Sloppy Firsts_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [79]
"Len told me to check out your editorial today."
Len Levy. My man, I owe you big-time.
"I’m sorry I didn’t read it sooner," he said, twisting his blue-and-white polka-dot tie. "It was the first good thing that heap of dung has ever printed. An instant classic."
He liked it. Marcus Flutie liked my editorial.
"If I had known that calling you a poseur would have inspired you like that, I would’ve pissed you off sooner."
He let go of the tie and it unfurled in a blue-and-white blur.
Too many words at once. I was overwhelmed.
Suddenly, my mom’s Volvo pulled into the driveway. Christ! I had to get out of there and fast.
"Uh, that’s my mom," I said, pointing at the high-strung blond woman straining to see who had the audacity to park this huge Cadillac in front of her perfectly landscaped front yard. As any Realtor knows, appearance is everything. "I gotta go."
"It’s too late," he said. "You’re already caught."
True, I was going to have to face the Guy Inquisition, no matter what. I wanted to get out of there before she rapped her rings on the window and screamed, Get away from my property! But I needed to ask him a question first, and somehow, I finally got up the nerve to do it.
"Marcus?"
"Yes?"
"Uh, that note you wrote me? You know, after the uh, incident last year?"
"Yesssssssssssssss."
"Uh, what did it say?"
He jerked his head quickly, as if to shake the words he’d just heard out of his ears.
"You didn’t read it?"
"Uh, well, I uh, kinda lost it before I got a chance to."
He rested his head on the steering wheel, saying nothing.
"Was it important?"
After a few seconds of silence, Marcus snapped to attention.
"You know what?" he said. "It’s better you didn’t read it."
Now I was totally confused.
"What? Why?"
"It’s just better," he said, "Trust me."
Trust him. Trust Marcus Flutie. Oh, dear God. Why did I feel like I could?
My mom was pacing on our front porch, seconds away from pouncing. I really had to get out of there before she totally embarrassed me.
"Thanks for what you said about my editorial."
"Thanks for writing it."
Marcus then leaned across me to open the passenger-side door. He was invading my personal space, as I had learned in Psych class, and I instinctively sank back into the seat. That just made him move in closer. I was practically one with the leather at this point, and unless I hopped into the backseat, there was nowhere else for me to go. Marcus was within whispering distance.
"I’ll talk to you later."
In any other context, that would have been a throwaway, something to say to put a nice tidy end to a conversation. But in this case, it meant more. I just know it.
Why must tomorrow be Saturday?!
Milliseconds after the Caddie pulled out and I was safe at my doorstep, my mom asked me who the driver was.
"Nobody you know," I said.
"Is he your boyfriend?"
"No way, Mom."
"A friend?"
"Uh, no."
"Well then who is he?"
"Just a boy, Mom," I said. "He’s nobody."
"He can’t be nobody, Jessie."
I can’t remember the last time my mom was so right about something. Marcus Flutie had zero chance at being my boyfriend and had even less of a shot at being a real friend to me. But that conversation in the Caddie guaranteed that Marcus Flutie would never be nobody. At least, not to me.
november
the fourth
Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalaladeeda.
There is only one reason why I am able to stay so calm about the Clueless Crew. One reason why I don’t care that they’re conspicuously ignoring me or—in Sara’s case—starting an E-mail campaign to the entire junior class to make everyone hate me as much as she does. One reason why my physical therapy sessions don’t seem to hurt as much anymore. One reason why I’m not bothered by the sudden and renewed interest my dad has in my life now that it