Gorgeous. Part 14

"We'll see," Dad said.

"I need it," I started to explain, until I caught a glimpse of my mother's jaw jutting forward and her eyes bulging out at me and changed my mind. Instead I took three steps at a time and didn't slow down until I was pressing my back against the door in my room.

17.

WHEN I I HEARD A QUIET HEARD A QUIET knock on my door about an hour later, I had a fleeting thought that maybe it was Mom, and that she'd come in and we'd sit on my bed together and chat the way Jade and her mom always did, every night, and probably Roxie and her mom did, too. knock on my door about an hour later, I had a fleeting thought that maybe it was Mom, and that she'd come in and we'd sit on my bed together and chat the way Jade and her mom always did, every night, and probably Roxie and her mom did, too.

"Go away," I said, not wanting to seem overeager.

"Let me in," said a slow, whispery voice on the other side. Quinn. Oh. I got up and let her in, then went and flopped down on my bed. I didn't even care that I was messing up all my neatly arranged white pillows.

"What happened?" Quinn asked, lying down next to me.

I dropped my arm over my eyes and told her the whole story. As always, she just listened quietly. After I finished, I waited for her to tell me what a jerk I was, how dangerous it was to cut school and go into the city, what a mess I had made of everything, what a terrible daughter and person I was. What could I even say to argue? I agreed. I was a total waste case. Not that that would have kept me from arguing; it just made me hate myself more.

But Quinn didn't say anything about that, or anything at all.

Great, I was thinking. I pour out my life trauma and it bores my sister so much she falls asleep? I gave it another few seconds and then peeked. She wasn't sleeping, so I didn't have to kill her. She was just lying there, blinking in her slow way. I was thinking. I pour out my life trauma and it bores my sister so much she falls asleep? I gave it another few seconds and then peeked. She wasn't sleeping, so I didn't have to kill her. She was just lying there, blinking in her slow way.

"What?" I asked her, and then, since she wasn't showing any initiative in the let's-bust-Allison's-chops department, prompted her with, "So I guess I deserve it, being grounded, but what am I supposed to do about my cell phone?"

"I think-" Quinn started.

"Therefore you are?" I guessed.

"I think an English m.u.f.fin is a happy day."

"What?"

She sat up and sang in her warbly voice, "An English m.u.f.fin is a happy day, a happy day, a happy day."

Then I remembered. It was from a show she and I had made up in the bathtub at our old house, when we were little. We used to put tons of shampoo on our hair and then stand up in the bath, singing at ourselves naked and sudsily coiffed in the mirror, doing the Quinn and Allison Show. And one of our best numbers was "An English m.u.f.fin Is a Happy Day."

So there we were in my big bed, both of us big, and dry, and dressed, and we started singing that wacky old song at possibly the worst moment of my life. From "An English m.u.f.fin Is a Happy Day," we moved quickly through our other great hits, like "Constipation: Lack of Doody-ation" and "Who Ga.s.sed?"

We were like eight-year-olds again, standing up, dancing on my bed, jumping around singing into our fists.

Eventually we wore ourselves out and flopped back down on my bed. "Well, that solved everything," I said after a few minutes.

"Good," she said. "Thought it might." She got up to leave. On her way out, she stopped and turned around. "I didn't tell on you."

"I think it was Jade," I said.

"She's worried about you," Quinn said.

"I know."

"Should she be?"

I shrugged. "Hard to say. Do I seem out of control to you?"

"No," Quinn said. "You just seem...kind of...happy, actually."

"Yeah, sometimes," I agreed. "Weird, huh?"

She shrugged. "You can use my cell phone if you need it."

"That's not the point!"

"I know, I'm just saying." She left, adding, "You're welcome."

"Thanks," I mumbled, but I doubt she heard.

A little later I went by Mom and Dad's room and sort of lurked in the doorway for a while, until Mom looked up from her desk, where my phone was sitting near her pile of papers.

"I actually really need my phone," I said.

"You actually really can't have it right now," she answered. "I'm not sure you understand how serious it is to cut school and just wander around the city, with n.o.body knowing where you are."

I almost argued that Quinn knew where I was, but stopped myself before implicating her. Instead, I said, "I do know. I said I was sorry."

She nodded. "I want to hear more about this thing you did, getting your picture taken-what the h.e.l.l was that all about?"

"It was for a contest. Who's the most gorgeous teen today, or something."

"The most...what?"

"Gorgeous," I said.

"And you thought you...Ugh. We need to talk about this, but I have to finish this thing right now and get it to the lawyer before five." She checked her watch, cursed, then mumbled, "Most gorgeous teen, of all...," and turned back to her work.

"I really need my phone," I said. "You can use the landline," she said without looking up. "I don't even know the numbers," I told her.

She groaned and turned around. "And who's Tyler Moss?"

"A boy."

"I gathered," she said. "Are you going out with him?"

"Am I not allowed to go out with somebody?"

"That's not what I said, Allison. I was just asking."

"No," I told her. "I'm not going out going out with him." with him."

"Just...interested in each other?"

This was torture. This should be outlawed by the UN. "I guess."

"That's why you need your phone back?"

"No!" Why did she have to be so impossible? "Yes, him. But also Jade, Roxie, other people. If you want to punish me, fine. Do whatever you want to me; I don't care. But I have a life, you know, and I'm connected to it by my phone!"

"I don't like your tone of voice, young lady," Mom said to me.

"Well, it's mutual!" I yelled.

"Go to your room," she said, and turned back to her work again, dismissing me. I kicked her door as I left.

I had a bit of a tantrum in my room and then didn't clean up afterward. (So there! Not that anybody would care but me, and it was driving me nuts, but I left it a mess on principle.) When they made me go down for dinner, I did, but I didn't talk to anybody, just ate my dinner and cleared my plate. I went back up to my room and didn't budge from in front of my computer, even when I heard my phone doing its own little version of the Grammy Awards down the hall on Mom's desk. Phoebe knocked on my door a couple of times but I just couldn't deal with her.

It took a while, but finally Roxie got online so we could chat. As expected, she'd been trying to text me. I told her what had happened and realized only when she seemed confused that she thought my parents had already found out about our big day in the city by a call from the school, and were cool with it.

Why didn't u tell me the truth? she asked. she asked.

IDK, I responded. I responded. I should have. Felt like a loser, I guess. I should have. Felt like a loser, I guess.

U can tell me anything, u know that! Well, so that sucks. A month? She was as fast as I was: type, send, a good fast rhythm. She was as fast as I was: type, send, a good fast rhythm.

Yup, I whipped back. I whipped back.

Kiss up. Maybe they'll get past it.

Doubt it, I sent back. I sent back.

How'd they find out, then?

Jade, I think.

Jealous b.i.t.c.h, she wrote instantly. she wrote instantly.

I laughed out loud, then typed, Jealous? Of what Jealous? Of what?

Well, of me, for one thing.

Maybe.

Also of you, Roxie shot back. Roxie shot back.

Why wd she be jealous of me? Why wd anybody anybody be jealous of ME? be jealous of ME?

It took maybe ten seconds to get her response: Because you aren't following her around all tense anymore like you have been all year. Because you hooked up with Tyler Moss. Because you look great, now that you're not hiding under your hair so much and always frowning. Lots of reasons. Because you aren't following her around all tense anymore like you have been all year. Because you hooked up with Tyler Moss. Because you look great, now that you're not hiding under your hair so much and always frowning. Lots of reasons.

You're just saying that, I wrote back. I wrote back.

Just typing that. Not!

Before I could even respond, she sent: How long r they keeping ur phone?

IDK, I typed. I typed. R u gonna go 2 Susannah's party? R u gonna go 2 Susannah's party?

Not w/o u! Do u need Tyler's # to call him back?

Yes! I typed back. I typed back. Thanks! Thanks!

No prob-getting it.

What do u think he was calling me about?

How hot u r, she replied. she replied.

Hahaha, I typed. I typed.

After she gave me his number, I typed, Thanks. Not sure if I shd call him...

Hmmm, true, maybe make him wait a bit.

Yeah, I agreed. I agreed. But what about the woman from But what about the woman from zip zip?

I pressed Send before it hit me.

s.h.i.+t.

I hit Delete but it was too late.

I hit Delete ten more times, even knowing it wouldn't help.

All I could do was wait, and then up came her response: What woman from zip? zip?

So there it was, choice time. What to do? I could try innocent: huh? huh? Or muddleheaded: Or muddleheaded: Did I say Did I say zip? zip? I meant the trip, Tennis Europe, who called. Earlier. I meant the trip, Tennis Europe, who called. Earlier. I could go with distraction: I could go with distraction: Gotta go, my house just caught fire. Gotta go, my house just caught fire. Or half-truths: Or half-truths: Some woman from Some woman from zip zip called-I think I left my wallet when we went there. called-I think I left my wallet when we went there.

I decided on half-truth, and had actually typed it but stopped with my pointer in midair before hitting Send. I deleted it and started over: Please don't hate me. I somehow got a callback. I don't know why. Maybe I got the joke spot. I didn't want to tell you because, well, this is what you wanted, not me-I was just along for the ride and now I feel like I accidentally stole your spot. Not that I could. I am a jerk. I'm sorry.

I reread it three times, hovered over Send, and then just sent it.

For about three hours (okay, maybe it was more like three minutes, but I swear I could feel myself aging) I sat and stared at my unmoving computer screen through my fingers.

Finally, her response flashed up: Congratulations.

That was all. I quickly typed: Are u mad?

GTG, she typed back. she typed back. More l8r. More l8r.