The v Club Read online

  "Finger-paint war," Mandy said, cracking a small smile.

  "Aren't you a little old for finger paints?" her father teased. Mandy studied his face, his clear blue eyes, his posture and clothing. He looked normal. Like nothing was going on. Was it possible that everything had, in fact, blown over?

  "Apparently I'm not," Mandy replied. She came down a few steps until she was at eye level with her father. Then she steeled herself and took the plunge. This was her dad. He'd never hidden anything from her in the past. She didn't want him to start now. "So, how're you doing, Dad?" she asked.

  Her father blinked. "Fine," he said with a smile. "Everything's fine."

  "Really?" Mandy asked hopefully. "So you're not being, you know . . . ?"

  87

  Her father was just staring at her now, that smile frozen on his face. But it was beginning to look strained.

  "Investigated anymore?" Mandy finished weakly.

  "Your mother told you about that, huh?" her father said, pushing his hands into the pockets of his gray slacks. He shifted his feet and Mandy felt like she'd just done something very, very wrong.

  "Well, she ... I mean, yeah," Mandy admitted. "Shouldn't she have?"

  "Of course," her father said, looking down at his highly polished shoes. "Of course. But Mandy, I don't want you to worry," he added, meeting her eyes again, the smile in place. "Everything is going to be fine. This is not something you should be concerned about."

  "Okay, but Dad, I--"

  "Why don't you go upstairs and get cleaned up and then you can tell me all about this finger-paint war over dinner?" her father said.

  "Okay," Mandy said, her stomach twisting. She jogged upstairs to her room and closed the door behind her. It took about fifteen seconds for the shouting to start on the other side of the house. Mandy couldn't make out the words, but she didn't need to.

  A shiver ran over Mandy's skin. This was her father. And her father wouldn't break the law and, more important, her father wouldn't lie to her. He was just. .. stressed. And he wanted to protect her. Right?

  Mandy couldn't think about it anymore. She sat down

  88

  on her bed and hit the play button on her answering machine. "Hey, it's me." Eric's voice sounded less gentle than usual. "Just wanted to see how the whole V Club thing went. The guys were all over me about it at practice. But. . . well, whatever. Call me back."

  Mandy closed her eyes as a door slammed downstairs and the machine beeped.

  "Mandy, it's Kai. I think we should talk. Call me back."

  Another beep. Mandy lay back on her bed and pulled her comforter out from under her pillows, folding it over her paint-caked body.

  "Hey, it's me again," Eric said. "I tried your cell. Where are you?"

  The tape beeped and rewound as her parents continued to wage World War III down below. Mandy turned over onto her side and hugged the comforter to her.

  When the phone rang, Mandy was suddenly filled with anger so fierce she bolted up and yanked the phone cord out of the wall, then scrounged her cell out of her backpack and shut that off too, ignoring the message icon. She locked her bedroom door and turned out the lights.

  She was not going to call Eric back and apologize for his friends' Neanderthal reaction to the V Club, and she was not going to call Kai and let her explain why she thought Mandy was being so unreasonable. She was not going to go downstairs and sit at the table with her parents, pretending everything was okay.

  89

  Mandy crawled into bed and bundled up the covers around her, listening to her own ragged breathing and the beating of her heart. As the fighting escalated, she squeezed her eyes shut and clutched her comforter.

  Just stop, she thought. Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.

  "Those of you who are applying for the Treemont scholarship, I have the final application materials here," Ms. Russo told her homeroom class on Thursday morning. "Come on down."

  "The moment of truth," Kai whispered to Debbie as they both got up from their seats and approached Ms. Russo's desk. She smiled and handed them each a packet. Kai flipped through it quickly as she walked back to her desk.

  Recommendations . . . interview . . . grades. . .

  She finally found what she was looking for on the last page.

  '"Please submit an essay of no fewer than two thousand words explaining your definition of purity and how you exemplify that purity in your daily life'}" Debbie read aloud.

  "They have to be kidding," Kai said, slumping back in her chair.

  "Another essay?" Debbie grumbled.

  "Oh, don't worry, Debbie. I'm sure they'll love your essay," Marni Raab said, pausing by Debbie's desk. "Let's see, I haven't gotten any diseases yet, so I must be pure.'"

  Kai's mouth dropped open as she glanced at Debbie.

  90

  "At least I'm not terminally hideous," Debbie replied, smirking.

  Marni narrowed her eyes but kept moving. Kai reached over and slapped hands with Debbie, then went back to staring at the essay page. At least it didn't say that you had to be a virgin in order to qualify. That was something. But what was her definition of purity?

  I think I should be commended for not coming within five feet of Andres for the past few days, Kai thought. If anyone knew how much self-control that took, they'd hand me the scholarship money on the spot. And probably throw me a parade.

  She knew this essay was going to have to be killer, but her personal definition of purity wasn't something Kai had ever really thought about.

  The bell rang and Kai shoved the application into her bag. The essay could wait. For now, she had bigger eggs to fry. Like convincing her teachers to write her some recommendations and winning that V Club presidency. She could think about her purity, or lack thereof, later.

  91

  Chapter 9

  Debbie pulled her chair closer to the private cubicle desk in the library and leaned her head on her arm. The small type on the pages of the thick Penn State catalog blurred together before her eyes and she sighed. It didn't matter how many times she went through it-- there was no mention of fashion anywhere in the hundreds of pages. Architecture, yes. Art history, yes. Theater arts, yes. Fashion arts, nada. "Hey!" a male voice whispered as Riley Marx appeared at the top of her cubicle, his hands clutching the side wall. "I'm not entirely sure, but I don't think we're supposed to use study hall as nap time."

  "I'm not napping," Debbie said, sitting up and shaking her hair back. "I'm considering my future, and it's taking a lot out of me."

  "That's not a good sign."

  92

  Riley pulled up a chair and scrootched over until he and Debbie were both sharing the small cubicle space. His knee brushed hers and Debbie smiled.

  "I thought you weren't going out for the Math and Science competition," he said.

  "I'm not," she said. "Or I wasn't." She slapped the Penn State catalog closed. "I don't know."

  "You sound very focused, Ms. Patel," Riley joked, lowering his voice to a responsible-sounding adult pitch.

  "Oh, and I guess you're one of those people who knows exactly where you're going to be in five years?" Debbie challenged, pulling all of her hair over one shoulder and arching her eyebrows at him. She leaned in a bit closer, resting her elbow on the desk. Riley's eyes flicked toward her cleavage and Debbie tried to suppress a smile. Maybe he's not gay after all. . . .

  "No, not exactly," he said. "But hopefully it'll be some med school or another. That's why I have to win one of these scholarships."

  "Yeah? Well, if I go out for both, you're gonna be in big trouble," Debbie said coyly.

  "Really?" Riley shot back. "Well, if you're such a science brain, maybe we should study together for the competition. Did you see all the subjects it's going to cover?

  He looked down at his hands and flushed slightly. She totally had this guy. "So?" he said. "Wanna study together?"

  Yes, yes, yes! She shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess," she said. "And

  93
<
br />   who knows, if you're nice to me, maybe I'll just let you win."

  Riley grinned and Debbie locked eyes with him. There was something about the way he was looking at her that made the hair on her arms stand on end, tickling her skin. He was going to ask her out. She could feel it.

  "Hey, Boy Scout!" Danny said, coming over and slapping Riley on the back. "Be careful talking to this girl. She'll totally corrupt you."

  "Ha, ha," Debbie said, mortified to feel her face burning. "Danny, shouldn't you be off, like, knocking rocks together, trying to make fire?"

  'Just came for my catalog," Danny shot back. "You done?"

  He reached over and grabbed it from her desk before she could answer, then sauntered away. Debbie shot eye daggers at his back as he left. Danny could be such a jerk sometimes.

  "Boy Scout?" Debbie asked Riley, arching her brows.

  "Just a little nickname I picked up since going out for the scholarship," Riley said. "I really thought they would have come up with something more creative, but I guess that's giving them too much credit."

  "Major mistake," Debbie conceded. "I cringe to think what they'd come up with for me. Miss Impure?"

  "Miss Not-so-chaste?" Riley joked.

  Debbie laughed. "How about Ms. Kissable?"

  "Lady Has-sexalot," Riley put in.

  There was a loaded silence as Debbie's heart shrank into a ball. "What did you just say?"

  94

  "Oh God, sorry," Riley said. "I'm sorry. I took that too far."

  Suddenly Debbie felt like someone had just walked into the library and ripped off all her clothes and she was sitting in front of Riley Marx completely naked.

  "But I don't even have--"

  "No, really. I'm really sorry." Riley's face was turning bright red. "Please. You don't have to explain yourself to me."

  "Where did you ... I mean . . . who told you that I--?" She swallowed and looked at him. What was wrong with her? Why was she so thrown? It wasn't like she didn't know that people talked about her and her many conquests behind her back. But somehow hearing Riley say it, hearing Riley say it, just cut right through her.

  "Debbie, please forget I said anything." Riley pressed his palms into his jeans and groaned. "God, it's none of my business anyway. Can we just forget this ever happened?"

  "Yeah, sure," Debbie said, grabbing up her bag. She felt like a moron and all she wanted to do was get the heck out of there--get away from his clear, probing gaze.

  He thinks you're a whore.

  "Debbie," he said, reaching out and grabbing her hand as she stood. "Don't be mad. Really. I didn't mean to--"

  "I know," Debbie said, somehow forcing a smile. "I just have to go. I'll . . . I'll see you in bio and we'll figure out when to study."

  As she left the library, she walked past Danny and his

  95

  friends and heard them snickering and slapping hands. Somehow she managed to maintain her pace and not run for the door.

  The last of the rug rats had just fallen into a deep sleep when Riley opened the door to the day-care center. Eva held a finger up to her lips and Riley closed the door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing across the room to her. Eva's heart was slamming into her rib cage by the time he reached her side.

  Okay, no reason to have a heart attack. He's just a guy. . . . The yummiest guy in Yum City.

  "Hey," Riley whispered. "Guess there's not much to do here right now."

  "Nope," Eva said. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

  "Oh. You want me to go?" Riley asked, his brow creasing.

  "No!" Eva blurted. Hayden stirred at her feet and Eva held her breath.

  Sharon tiptoed over to them and placed one hand on each of their backs, leaning in between them. "Why don't you two kids go out back and get some fresh air?" she suggested. "I'll be fine here for the next little while."

  Eva opened her mouth to protest. Before she could, Sharon pushed her and Riley toward the door to the playground.

  Eva sat down in one of the two leather swings and Riley sat next to her, swinging in the opposite direction

  96

  so he could face her. Eva looked down at her hands in her lap as an awkward silence fell between them. Well, at least it felt awkward to her.

  "So, Eva, tell me the three most fascinating things about you," Riley said out of nowhere. "I will give you fifteen seconds to compose your answer."

  "What?" Eva blurted with a laugh.

  "They asked me that during my early admissions interview for Penn," Riley said. "Insane, right?"

  "Totally."

  "So?"

  "What?"

  "Three most fascinating things," Riley prompted.

  "I thought you were kidding!" Eva protested, blushing.

  "I was, sort of. But I seriously want to know," Riley said.

  Eva eyed him. He was swinging back and forth but staring straight at her. "Um. . . ." Eva clutched the chains that held her swing. "I don't know. I mean, I don't know if there's anything about me that anyone would describe as fascinating."

  "Not true." Riley shook his head. "You're a poet, that's one. Oh, and did you know that Mr. Greenleaf is telling all his classes about your Hamlet paper? The man worships the paper you write on. I think he's in love with you."

  "Really?" Eva asked, floored.

  "No, not really. Because that would be gross." They both laughed, and Riley continued. "So there, that's two

  97

  fascinating things about you. Now you only have to tell me one."

  Eva smiled, looking up at the sky. "Okay, okay. One thing. I... uh ... I can't stand peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."

  "Whoa. But I thought everyone liked peanut butter and jelly," Riley said.

  "Ick," Eva said. "The smell of them alone disgusts me. I threw up on the bus in third grade once just because the kid next to me was eating one."

  "That is fascinating. I mean, PBJs are the world's perfect sandwich."

  Eva swung a little higher, feeling the breeze in her hair. "Well, that's fascinating, too. Is that what you told the Penn interviewer?" she joked.

  "Nah, I didn't think he could handle it. I just told him that I play a mean blues guitar. I'm going to school for pre-med, but I secretly want to be a movie critic, and I'm saving myself until I get married."

  Eva stuck her feet into the sand to stop her swing and almost tumbled off headfirst. She gaped at Riley. "That's what you told him?" she asked.

  "Yeah. And I think I freaked him out a little bit. He drank, like, half a glass of water before continuing," Riley replied. He straddled his swing and leaned back into the chain. "It's okay, though. I didn't really want to go to Penn."

  Eva stared down at her sneakers, the toes turned in toward each other, and leaned forward on her swing, carefully mulling her next words.

  98

  "Can I ask you a question?" she said tentatively.

  "Shoot," Riley said.

  "Why? Are you saving yourself, I mean?"

  "I figure, what better gift can you give the person you're gonna spend the rest of your life with than to tell her you've been waiting for her?"

  Eva had never heard anyone say anything so perfect in her entire life.

  "What about you?" he asked.

  "What about me?" Eva asked back.

  "You were at the V Club meeting; you're applying for the scholarship," Riley said. "What do you think about the whole sex thing?"

  "I don't," Eva said automatically.

  "You don't what?" Riley asked.

  "I don't think about the sex thing," Eva said, starting to swing again. "Too many other things to think about."

  Like that I should work on the first kiss first, she thought, gazing across at the trees as they bobbed up and down in front of her. Suddenly she felt giddy and light, like she could take off and fly right over them.

  99

  Chapter 10

  EVA HOVERED NEAR THE CORNER OF MR. GREENLEAF'S DESK, her heart pounding. He had
to know she was standing there. Every other student had already left, and she felt as conspicuous as a yellow school bus sitting in the middle of his room. Still, he kept his head bent over the page he was writing on, his hand sweeping across the page.

  Say something. You can't stand here forever, Eva told herself. But he was the adult. He was supposed to take pity on her. Was he really this evil? "He worships the paper you write on, " she heard Riley's voice say in her mind. A little spark fluttered to life in her chest.

  "Mr. Greenleaf?" she said.

  "Eva." He didn't even look up.

  "Uh . . . okay. So. I'm applying for this Treemont scholarship and I was wondering if . . . you're not too busy, I

  100

  mean ... if you might consider . . . um . . . writing me a recommendation?" He glanced up from his work. "I mean, I totally understand if you don't want to. I'm sure it's a pain in the neck and if you don't have the time, I--"

  "I would be honored to write a recommendation for you, Eva," he said. And then he did the most unexpected thing. He smiled. "Do you have the form?" he asked.

  Eva held it out and he took it, looking down at it over his little half-moon glasses.

  "I'll return it to you as soon as I'm finished," he said. Then he went right back to his work.

  "Thank you," Eva said, not quite believing what she'd just done. "Really, thanks."

  "See you tomorrow," Mr. Greenleaf said.

  "Right." Eva was grinning from ear to ear. She turned and practically skipped out of the classroom. There were about six inches of fluffy air between her and the floor. She'd done it! She'd asked Greenleaf and he'd said yes! Eva came around the corner at the end of the hall, practically laughing from her giddiness, and stopped dead in her tracks. And she came crashing back to earth. There, not three feet away, were Riley and Debbie, laughing so hard Debbie was clutching his shoulders to keep from falling to the floor.

  "Eva!" Debbie called out, noticing her before Eva could turn and flee. "Did you do it?"

  "Do what?" Riley asked, his beautiful eyes turning to her.

  101

  "Uh . . . yeah, I did," Eva mumbled. She couldn't stop staring at Debbie's fingers, which were now resting on the chest area of Riley's Bad Religion tour T-shirt.