The Revenge Artist - Philip Siegel Page 0,11
on drinking this entire pot?” My mom wipes down the counter and mutters to herself pretty much the same thing she just said aloud.
“Actually, I am. I’m going to drink it right before bed tonight. How’s that?” He flashes her a devious smile.
I return to searching candy heart companies, and after three dead ends, I strike gold. Dreams Come True Candy Corp., specializing in personalized messages. Such as FIND ME. I scramble up to my room so I don’t have to listen to my parents ask me why I’m calling a candy company customer service line on a Sunday morning.
I reach a sweet lady on the other end. “Hi there. I recently put in an order for a candy heart that says FIND ME, and I wanted to make sure you had my proper billing address. I think I misspelled my street name.”
“Do you have an order number?”
“Not on me. Can’t you just pull up the last order with this request? I’m sure you don’t have many.”
“I can’t do that without an order number.”
“Is there anyone who can help? I’m going to be real with you. I want to know who sent me that heart. Someone wants me to find them.”
She giggles like a grandmother. I don’t get the humor.
“It sounds like you have a secret admirer, honey.”
A secret admirer? Everyone in school must know I’m taken. I’m dating Fred. Unless this person doesn’t care.
***
Do I have a secret admirer? It sounds so ridiculous, but the candy hearts speak for themselves. This is a topic tailor-made for a best friend discussion. I wait in the stairwell for my lunch partner, but Val doesn’t show. Fred keeps checking his watch, passive-aggressively letting me know that life is short and lunch period is even shorter.
“Any word from Val?” Fred asks.
“I’ve already texted her twice and no answer.”
He looks out the door to the parking lot. “The guys are waiting,” he says. He tries to smile, but Fred was never good at playing the bad guy. “Maybe you should text her where we’re going. She can meet us?”
Val always shows up for lunch. She’s not one to leave me hanging without good reason. “She’ll show up.”
Three minutes later, which comes out to fifteen minutes in precious lunch time, still no Val. I tell Fred to go on ahead with his friends. I’ll catch up.
“She’s fine,” I assure him. “Probably had to stay after class or something.”
But that wouldn’t explain her blackout all this morning.
Hey! Sorry! I’m going to study during lunch. Have fun!
I stare at my screen, finding new mysteries in each word. Val treasures off-site lunches even more than me. She’s managed to squeeze in quick shopping trips in those forty-two minutes. Without getting any speeding tickets, no less. I don’t get why she’d give it up to study.
You can study at the table.
Too distracting
We’ll be quiet ☺
I really need to focus
But I wanted to discuss something with you. Something important.
The message hangs in cyberspace. I clutch my phone tighter, waiting for a response. One minute later, which comes out to forty-five minutes in vital text response waiting time, Val’s message blinks on to my screen.
I’m sorry, B. We’ll chat later.
I’ve never known Val to be this studious, but here she is, choosing a boring, bland library over rich food and best friend time. Maybe she is trying to work on her grades, but I can’t help fearing the truth. Val thinks she’s a third wheel.
I run to my car to join Fred and savor whatever remains of lunch.
***
When I get home, I park behind a black car with the New York Yankees and Knicks bumper stickers displayed prominently. I wish I had driveway access, but too many Williamsons and too little pavement. Boxes of who-knows-what have taken over our garage.
I knock on the driver’s window, and Bari rolls her window down. And she’s pissed off. Big surprise. It’s like her mission to always be upset about something. The way humans need oxygen, Bari needs discontent. Her blond hair fans out behind her ears, and I think I see red blotching her eyes.
“Hey,” I say.
She doesn’t say anything, just shakes her head.
“Is something wrong?” I ask. She needs to give me something. I haven’t mastered telepathy. She traces the steering wheel with her finger.
Yeah, that’s not enough. Until I realize there’s only one reason that would compel Bari to wait outside my house.
“Bari, did you and Jay break up?”
She spits out a laugh, still not looking at me. “Of course.”
I squat down