The Dating Debate Page 5

Nina

  Wednesday after school, I drove to the Hilmer Library. I parked in the side lot and walked around to the front entrance. Eager to get my book fix on, I jogged up the front steps, entered the building, and inhaled. Ick. Something wasn’t right. Normally, the library had that magical book smell that reminded me of vanilla wafer cookies. Today, it smelled like wet towels that had been left in the hamper too long.

  The librarian sat at her desk counting the coins from the Help Rehab the Hilmer Library jar.

  “How’s it going?” I asked.

  “Every penny helps,” she said. “But I’m not sure how much longer we’re going to be able to stay open.”

  “What? Why?” I knew the building was old and needed a lot of updating, but it had beautiful oak wainscoting running the length of the walls and amazing woodwork around the doors.

  “A little girl went to get a drink from the water fountain in the Children’s section, and nothing came out because all the water that should have been going to the fountain has been seeping into the floorboards and the wall instead.”

  That explained the yucky smell. “Can someone fix it?”

  “The guy who came to look at it just turned off the water line and suggested we wait for the wall and floor to dry out.” She inhaled and then wrinkled her nose. “You can smell how well that’s working.”

  “That stinks. Literally.” I frowned. “Why isn’t someone fixing the problem instead of hoping it goes away?”

  She sighed and started sliding pennies into a brown paper wrapper. “Every time something around here breaks, which seems to be way too often, the city says it makes more sense to put the money toward the new library they plan to build next spring.”

  “In theory, that makes sense, but what are you supposed to do in the meantime?” I asked.

  “We’re putting together a group of people to try to raise funds to fix this place up and keep it open until the new library is built.” She pointed to a library table stacked high with books. “In the meantime, we’re hedging our bets by selling off books for a dollar a piece. If we do have to shut down, there won’t be as much to pack.”

  Since it was for a good cause, I bought half a dozen books.

  Later that night, I sat reading on the couch, when Gidget came over to join me. And by join me, I mean she wedged her long, skinny nose under my book and pushed it up so she could play the world’s largest lap puppy.

  “Gidget.” I set my book down and looked into her soulful brown eyes. “Are you not getting the attention you deserve?”

  She made a sound that my mom and I described as her complaining yodel. “What’s that about?” I asked as I ran my hand over her silky blonde head. She yodeled louder.

  My mom walked into the living room. “She is trying to tell you we’re out of chewies.”

  “Oh, no.” I hugged Gidget. “The horror.”

  She whined like she agreed with me. “It’s okay, girl. I can run to the store.”

  “It’s not like she can’t wait until tomorrow,” my mom said.

  “No big deal. I need gas anyway.” I slid out from under Gidget and looked at my fur-covered jeans and shirt. “The good thing about running to the pet store is no one cares if you’re covered in fur.”

  West’s dad had parked his ridiculously large SUV further up the driveway. Backing out next to his car was almost impossible. Thank goodness I only had to back up next to West’s Ford Fusion, which wasn’t a big deal.

  I set my phone on the dash and checked my mirror before backing up slowly. My cell buzzed, and I turned my head to see who the text was from. The scraping crunch of metal on metal set my teeth on edge. I stomped on the brake and stared at my hands where I’d turned the wheel the slightest bit to the right when I’d checked the text. Son of a… A cold sweat beaded my forehead as I pulled forward and parked. It took me a moment to unclench my hands from the steering wheel. Maybe it wasn’t that bad.

  No one had come running, so the crash hadn’t been that loud, which gave me hope. Less sound had to mean less damage. Right? Hands shaking, I undid my seat belt and climbed out to assess the carnage.

  My Jeep sat up higher than West’s car, so I’d scraped a foot of his paint and ripped off his passenger-side mirror. It lay on the ground, mostly in one piece. Maybe I could stick it back on like a Lego. Would it snap back into place?

  I picked up the mirror and held it up to its former position. Nope. It was broken clean off. Acid surged in my stomach. Now what? Shit. I was going to have to confess. And since I couldn’t knock on his door, I was going to have to call him.

  Damn. Damn. Damn. It’s okay. I can do this. Not a big deal. Right… I dialed his number.

  “Nina?” He sounded surprised to hear from me.

  “Hey, West. I wanted to let you know…we can drive to school whatever time you want tomorrow.”

  “What are you talking about? Why would we ride together?”

  “Well, the damage isn’t bad,” I said, stalling for time. “It’s your passenger-side mirror, really, or lack of one.”

  “What in the hell are you— Oh my God…did you hit my car?”

  “Yes.”

  I could hear the sound of him moving, and then the front door flew open. He stalked down the driveway.

  “I’m sorry.” I held the mirror out to him.

  He snatched it from my hands and stared at it like he couldn’t believe what he was holding. “You hit my car.”

  “I did.” This was when me not lying really sucked.

  He walked over to his car and ran his hand down the area where the paint was scratched, and then he inspected where the mirror used to be. I bit back a nervous laugh when he tried pressing it back against the car the same way I had.

  “We could try some glue, or maybe duct tape,” I offered.

  “Duct tape?” He practically spit the words out at me. “You want to duct tape my mirror back on my car?”

  “Not the best idea, I know. I’m sure my insurance will pay for it.” I hoped. I dialed my mom. “Can you come outside? I kind of hit West’s car and ripped his mirror off.”

  “Oh, no.” She literally ran outside and joined us.

  West held the mirror out to her like he was offended by it.

  “Okay.” My mom took the mirror from him. “It’s a pretty clean break. I have some Gorilla Glue in the house.”

  “You’re not gluing my mirror back on,” West stated.

  “I suggested duct tape,” I told my mom.

  “What’s going on out here?” West’s dad came out the front door, slamming it behind him.

  West’s dad was not going to yell at him for something I’d done. “I’m sorry. It was my fault. I clipped West’s mirror.”

  His dad focused on me, and suddenly I doubted the wisdom of using myself as a human shield. The man was large and scary.

  “We have insurance,” my mom piped up as she dialed someone on her phone. “And Nina will be happy to give West a ride to school until his car is fixed. They’re going to the same place, after all.” She spoke to someone, telling him or her about the accident. “Just give me a moment to explain.” She walked a few feet into the yard, talking fast. A moment later she came back. “I reported it. You can get a quote and my insurance will take care of it. There’s no need to freak out, Mr. Smith.”

  This news didn’t seem to comfort West’s dad. He stood there with his face so red it looked like steam should be shooting out of his ears. “I warned you when you signed the rental agreement that you needed to be careful about the driveway.”

  “It was an accident.” I enunciated each syllable like that might make him better understand the term.

  “Any more accidents like this, and you’ll have to find another place to live.”

  “We’re sorry,” my mom said. “And it won’t happen again. West, why don’t you come over to our house so you and Nina can talk about what time you want to go to school tomorrow. And your father can get back to whatever it was he was doing.”


  West froze like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

  I reached for his arm. “Come on. This will only take a minute.”

  West allowed me to pull him toward my house. His father stomped off in the opposite direction.

  Once we were inside, my mom said, “Honey, why don’t you two come sit at the kitchen table, and I’ll pour us all some hot tea.”

  “I don’t want tea,” West said. “I want my car in one piece.”

  “We’ll get your car fixed.” I stood and went to the cabinet over the microwave where we kept the chocolate stash. I grabbed a handful of Hershey kisses and brought them back to the table. “Have some chocolate. It will make you feel better.”

  “No, it won’t.” He stood. “Be ready to drive to school at a quarter after seven tomorrow.”

  “What? Why?” Was he insane? I didn’t leave until seven forty-five. “We don’t have to be in homeroom until eight fifteen.”

  “I like to go early, and you ripped my mirror off, so that’s when we’re going.”

  I pulled my keys from my pocket. “Here. Just take my Jeep. I’ll have Lisa pick me up at a normal time.”

  West reached for the keys.

  “Sorry, we can’t do that,” my mom said. “Our insurance wouldn’t cover him.”

  Crap. Maybe I could bargain with him. “Seven thirty?”

  “Seven twenty-five,” he said.

  Great.

  About half an hour after West left, Jason came in the front door. He looked at my mom and then at me. “What happened?”

  “I hit West’s car and ripped his mirror off.”

  “Nice,” he said.

  “Way to be supportive.” And that gave me an idea. “You could help me out by giving West a ride to school.”

  “Sorry. I can’t be late to my co-op.”

  Damn. I’d forgotten about that.

  …

  It wasn’t until I woke up the next morning that I realized I’d also forgotten to set my alarm for an earlier time. I had twenty minutes until West expected me to be in the driveway. While I wasn’t high maintenance, it took at least that long for my hair to dry. I took the fastest shower of my life and blew as much wetness from my hair as I could before giving up and wrangling it into a braid. Then I threw on a pair of jeans, one of my favorite Harry Potter turtle necks, and my Converse. A quick swipe of mascara made it look like I might be awake and ready to start my day, which totally wasn’t true. Behold the magic of eye makeup.

  By some sort of miracle, I was only five minutes late. West stood leaning against my Jeep staring at his cell.

  “Sorry, I forgot to change the time on my alarm clock.”

  Rather than respond, he continued to stare at his phone.

  “West?”

  “Hold on,” he muttered.

  I watched the time on my cell change from seven thirty to seven thirty-three before he looked up. “I had to finish that chapter. I’m sure you understand.”

  I nodded. “I do.” At least he wasn’t griping at me. I climbed in and unlocked the passenger door so he could join me. Then I started the Jeep and backed out at a snail’s pace, making sure not to do any further damage to his car. “Shared driveways are a stupid idea.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me, and I’m sure that disappoints you,” he said. “Do you know why we have a shared driveway?”

  “Because fate knew we were destined to go to the Valentine’s Dance and fall madly in love?” I said, just to mess with him.

  He glanced sideways at me, like he wasn’t sure if I was serious or not.

  “Relax. I’m joking.”

  “Good. Because I don’t believe in all that fate and destiny crap.”

  I noticed he didn’t argue the going-to-the-dance part, which was interesting. “You don’t believe in fate?”

  Chapter Twelve

  West

  “No.” Maybe I had before my mom’s mental illness took over our lives, but now I couldn’t see how fate or destiny thought my family deserved this mess.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  Time to turn this back on her. “Because things just happen. There isn’t always some cosmic reason.”

  “I read somewhere that life is a series of twists and turns you don’t see coming, but they end up leading you where you belong.”

  “Really? So you knocking the mirror off my car is part of some grand design? I don’t buy it.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe fate wanted us to spend some quality time together so I can help you see that the world is a brighter place than you think it is.”

  I snorted. “The world will be a brighter place once I have a scholarship that lets me move far away.” Wait. Why had I shared that? Maybe because even with her crazy beliefs and bad driving skills she was easy to talk to.

  “What scholarships are you applying for?” she asked, like she was actually interested.

  “I’m hoping for one of the Merit scholarships. With my grades I should have a decent chance.”

  “I applied for a few of those, too. Although I’m not sure I have faith in the system. A lot of people apply.”

  “That’s oddly cynical. Why go through the trouble of writing the essays and filling out the forms if you don’t think you’ll get one?”

  “My mom wanted me to apply. There’s a chance I could get one. If I don’t, she said it’s good practice for when things don’t go your way in life. One of those life-lesson scenarios.”

  “Have you ever noticed that those always suck? No one ever calls a happy event a life lesson.”

  She laughed. “I never thought of it that way, but you’re right. Maybe life lesson is the grown-up code for things that suck. Even if I do get a scholarship, I have no idea what I want to major in or even what college I should go to. How about you?”

  “I’ve been accepted to a few of my first-choice schools and a few I’m not sure about. As far as a job, goes, I know I want to do something that lets me travel. I don’t want to be tied down to one place. I like math, so maybe something in accounting or engineering.”

  “Those aren’t people person jobs, and you seem like a people person.”

  “I do?” Why does she think that? “Because most of the time, people annoy the crap out of me.”

  She laughed. “I’m pretty sure that is one of those things you aren’t supposed to say out loud.”

  That didn’t meld with what she’d said before. “I thought you were the honesty-is-the-best-policy person.”

  “Lying is wrong, but sometimes people share things they shouldn’t.” Her expression darkened.

  “Like what?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “It’s stupid.”

  “We’re stuck together for at least ten more minutes. So you might as well spill it.”

  She stopped at a red light and picked at the hem on her right sleeve, pulling a loose thread and then yanking if off. “Well…when my dad broke things off with us, he should have kept the details of his other life to himself. I think he felt the need to confess, which just made the situation worse. He could have said he met someone else. We didn’t need all the gory details. I read somewhere that you have to carry your own water, meaning it’s crappy to confess to make yourself feel better, if it will make the person hearing the confession feel worse.”

  The light turned green and we moved with the flow of traffic. How should I respond to her sharing something so personal? This level of honesty was foreign to me. “My family goes with the ostrich approach. Stick your head in the ground, ignore the problem, and hope it goes away.”

  “You mean like your mom being sick?”

  I nodded. “My dad likes to pretend everything is fine.”

  “And your mom?” Nina asked.

  It felt like I was jogging through a minefield. “I think…that she’s been this way for so long…she’s forgotten what life was like before.”

  “If we weren’t on the road, I’d be hugging you right now,” Nina said, with a catch in
her voice. “Because that is one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard.”

  It was one of the most honest things I’d ever said. It made a spot in my chest ache. Words poured out of my mouth before I could stop them. “It’s such a cop-out, both she and my dad. If she acts like it’s normal, then she doesn’t have to admit it’s a problem. If my dad acts like it’s all okay, then he doesn’t have to try to convince her to find treatment.”

  “Are there other doctors she could see? Maybe get a second opinion?”

  “I’ve asked that same question over and over again, and neither of my parents are willing to try anything new.”

  “That’s so frustrating and just plain wrong.”

  Not like I was going to argue with her.

  “I’ve been racking my brain about something that might be nice for your mom,” Nina said. “Do you think she’d want to listen to some audiobooks? You can buy them and download them onto your phone or tablet.”

  That was actually a good thought. “I’ll mention it to her.”

  …

  While I sat in homeroom, I thought about how different Nina was from Vicky. Nina actually seemed to be concerned for my family. I’d given Vicky the same story about my mom being ill, but she never offered any suggestions about how she might be able to help. I’d never expected her to. Then Nina comes along with her weird hugging family who likes to feed everyone…which was actually kind of nice. Maybe I could tell her what was really going on with my mom. It would be such a relief not to have to keep so much of my life secret from the girl I liked.

  Whoa. Where did that come from? Unless I could argue my way out of it, I was stuck taking Nina to the dance, but nothing would happen after that. Right? Nina could be a friend. And that would be okay because, despite what I’d said to Vicky, my only two friends were Matt and Charlie. If Nina proved trustworthy, maybe I could add her to that small select group.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nina

  Driving West to school this morning had proved enlightening. His family was one messed-up household. Not that my family with my lying, cheating, polygamist father was the standard for normal, but still. Why wouldn’t his dad seek a second opinion for his mom? Why would his mom pretend everything was okay? How sick was she? Was she dying? Good God, how did they even deal with something like that, if she was?