Not Exactly a Love Story by Audrey Couloumbis Read Free Book Online Page B

Bunny said, and it was hard to say whether she accepted the explanation or secretly reveled in her superiority. “Her hair looks like she cuts it herself.”
    “She’s in charge of her brothers and sisters till her dad gets home from work,” Patsy said. “She makes dinner for six people. And she gets decent grades, so she probably doesn’t have much time for
style
.”
    “Oh, who really cares,” Melanie said, and stalked away. I had the feeling she did care. And Patsy certainly did.
    The bell rang, signaling the end of the fire drill.
    I’d learned something about Patsy, the meaningful stuff of picking friends, and what we give up when we try to move up a level in popularity. If I was dating Patsy, this would be valuable. Of course, I wasn’t dating Patsy and it wasn’t likely I ever would be.
    However, I was talking to her. Sort of.
    12:00 a.m. and ringing.
    “You again.”
    “Just hear what I’ve got to say,” I began.
    “I never heard of a creep who had this need to apologize.”
    “Exactly! I’m just a regular person.”
    “You sound weird. Like you have cotton balls in your mouth or something.”
    “I’m talking through a handkerchief.” I didn’t think that sounded as creepy as a T-shirt.
    She said, “If you need me to forgive you, it’s probably a sign that you’re neurotic.”
    !!!
    “What are you, a psychologist?”
    “My dad’s a psychiatrist.”
    “And you never tell him you’re sorry.”
    “We were discussing your apologies, not mine.”
    “That’s what
you
were discussing.”
    I’d hoped to get a laugh, but she said, “I probably know you. Why else would you care what I think of you?”
    I tried to sound like someone who sat next to her at school. Somebody she knew. “I’m not a creep, okay? I do want you to know I’m sorry. If I wasn’t, I’d be a whole lot worse than neurotic.”
    “You’re going to get caught if you keep this up.”
    Maybe that was it—I had a compulsive desire to be discovered. The idea gave me the willies. But I said, “I’m not crazy, either.”
    She said, “
That
is what they all say,” and hung up.
    The terrible thing, I was disappointed when she did.
    Also, I was a little offended. Her tone of voice had been … ripe. Ripe with being sure of who I was. Well, not
who
I was, but the kind of guy she thought I’d have to be.
    Actually, it was just possible she was getting a kick out of these phone calls. Oh, not that she was loving them exactly. But I noticed she didn’t hang up right away. She exchanged a few words with me, and when she had me where she wanted me, she hung up.
    She must have been enjoying a certain sense of triumph when she hung up. Sadistic, that’s what it was. It made me queasy to think about it.

NINETEEN
    The next day, at the start of fourth-period lunch, I followed Patsy in, veering around the room before getting in the cafeteria line just behind her. This was not an easy maneuver, I couldn’t look like I was following her.
    At fruit salad, somebody she knew stepped into the line.
    “Hey, Patsy!”
    “Daniel. Hi.”
    “I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said as if they were in the middle of a conversation, “I loved your essay on ballet camp.” I knew the type immediately, just hearing his voice. Too thin, mostly nervous, always terribly precise when he’s nervous.
    “Thanks.” Said with little enthusiasm as she chose a cottage cheese salad.
    “Are you going again this summer?” he asked as the line shifted. He was riveted on her. Plus, he had a galloping case of dermatologist-treated acne, sunburned and peeling.
    She said, “I don’t know. I’ve sort of started thinking more seriously. I mean, ballet was never about a career for me.”
    “No? No, I—”
    “Patsy,” Melanie said, low and urgently, fitting herself into the space between Patsy and myself.
    “Move aside, Twinkle-toes,” Brown Bunny said as she horned in on Patsy’s other side. Melanie looked hard at the food choices, and I