The Revenge Artist - Philip Siegel Page 0,39
guilt and relief. Of course I’m this lucky, to wind up bumping into my boyfriend while meeting my secret admirer. I glance quickly at the college catalogue boy, and he’s stuck in his book, probably feeling rejected. He won’t acknowledge me.
Fred looks super cute in his half-zip pullover. He needs a spread in his own catalogue, stat.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” he says. His mouth is turned up in a sly smile.
“More than pleasant.”
“I thought you were busy tonight.”
I shake my head. How foolish was I? And then I kiss him.
He leads me to his table. Books spill over every inch of real estate. I sit down and push aside the open notebook in front of me.
“Do you want anything?” he asks. “Your usual?”
“Sounds good.”
Fred takes a step, then pivots back to me. “Are you okay? You seem really on edge.”
“Oh. I’m fine. I thought you were tutoring tonight.” I pull him down by the zipper and plant my lips proudly on his. See, potential paramours. I’m Liam Neeson’s daughter. I’m taken. I’m more taken than a parking space at the mall on Black Friday. Now leave me alone.
“Gross.”
A scrawny middle-schooler in a parking-cone orange sweatshirt waits with a cookie behind me. He clears his throat to get my full attention.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
“You’re in my seat.”
And that’s when I notice that the open notebook in front of me is littered with seventh-grade algebraic equations on wide-ruled paper.
“I’m still tutoring. Sam just went to grab a snack,” Fred says.
Sam holds up his cookie. He bites off half of it.
“You tutor here?” I ask.
“Every Monday night.”
“Every Monday night? You’re here? Tutoring?”
Sam clears his throat, and that’s my cue to stand up. I feel so confused. I can’t believe, for someone so crafty, my secret admirer wouldn’t have done his due diligence. Amateurs. I glare at him and his paperback novel, but he still doesn’t pay me a wisp of attention.
“Since when?”
“Since September. I told you that I tutored.”
“But not at Mulwray’s.”
“Well, I’ve only been doing it here for a few weeks. We had to change locations because the local library got super crowded.”
“Oh.”
“Maybe I should just get you a water.”
Nothing is making any sense. Fred is at Mulwray’s. Tutoring. Every Monday night. Of all the places my secret admirer could’ve picked, he picked here. On a Monday. When Fred just started working out of here. I look over at the cute guy with the book. He stands up to hug a girl who just came in.
The room feels incredibly hot. The dimmed lights seem extra bright, and the background music is blaring into my ears. I feel like I just entered a scene of a movie, and nobody’s given me the script. And that’s when the realization hits me at just how smart this wannabe Romeo is.
“Whatcha got there?” Fred taps a bottled water against the rose, which is resting under my arm. His smile slips off his face. “Who got you the rose?”
I stare at the flower as everything begins to click. My mouth turns into a room with air conditioning, sticky and stifling.
“It’s for you!” I shove it into his arms. “It looked cute, and it made me think of you. The truth is, I knew you were tutoring here. I thought I’d surprise you.”
“Wow. Thanks, hon.” He kisses my cheek. I rub his hair, which I know he loves. I pour it on, extra sweet to cover my tracks.
“I’ll let you boys get back to the books!” I give them a thumbs-up and make my way to the door.
“I’ll call you later,” Fred calls out.
“No need. I’ll be busy with work of my own.”
***
The new Break-Up Artist strikes again.
I slam my bedroom door and sink to the floor. Fred and I were the next victims. How could I be so stupid to fall for the secret admirer trick? I couldn’t just ignore it; I had to know who this secret admirer was. I had to know who could break into my locker.
I massage my temples, taking deep breaths that I feel circulate through my body. That was close, but I don’t think Fred caught on to anything. This new person is good. Slowly building up my expectations for weeks, getting me interested, then excited, while also feeling guilty. And if Fred pressed me at Mulwray’s, what could I have said? Hey, I’m just here looking for my secret admirer? That’s pretty much cheating.
The teddy bear stares at me from my desk, its charcoal black eyes