The Boy Is Back by Meg Cabot (13)

Becky, why did I just get a text from my mom that she saw REED STEWART at Antonelli’s Pizza picking up two extra large pies with his brother Marshall?

Is Reed Stewart back? And if so, why am I only hearing about this now and from my MOTHER of all people?

Okay, it’s frightening that someone who is living in Japan has more information about the situation than I do. I didn’t know Reed was back. I heard he MIGHT be coming back, but I didn’t know he was back back. Thanks for the heads-up. I will definitely not be going to Antonelli’s tonight.

Well, actually tonight’s probably the only safe night to go to Antonelli’s, because he was already there and left.

True. I should probably head over there now and order ten pies, then cram them all into my freezer so I can avoid running into him for the rest of the week.

That sounds 100% normal. Definitely something a healthy 28 yr old woman would do:

Hide in her mom’s basement for the rest of the time her ex is visiting his family in their hometown in order to avoid seeing him.

Yeah, OK, you’re right. I’ll just never go out again in anything less than full makeup and my most flattering outfits.

Ha ha, just kidding.

No, seriously, I’m fine.

Sure. You sound fine. When I left you were hot and heavy with Graham. What do you even care what Reed Stewart thinks?

I don’t. In fact, Graham and I are going out tonight. Well, we were. I actually just had to call him and cancel. I got a new gig and I have a lot of organizing to do to get ready for it.

God, you haven’t changed at all. You are still such a geek! You used to do the same thing in high school, remember? A hot guy asks you out, but you prefer to stay home and create a spreadsheet for your homework. Or is it a binder?

Both. And what’s wrong with it? Organization is the key to happiness in life.

Uh, I thought it was love. Meanwhile, I bet you still think Reed Stewart was the best you ever had, even though he drove a golf cart drunk with you in it into a swimming pool and dislocated your shoulder, then never spoke to you again.

Actually, I was the one who did that.

What?

I was driving the golf cart drunk. I dislocated my own shoulder.

What the hell are you talking about?

I’m the one who was driving. God, it feels so good to finally tell someone!

But don’t tell anyone else. And please delete this chat when we’re done.

I’m living in Tokyo with a bunch of old people who don’t know you and barely speak English. Who am I going to tell?

But can we please go back to WHAT? We have been friends for HOW long and you’re only choosing to tell me this NOW?

Ugh, I know. Don’t kill me. Maybe it’s BECAUSE you’re so far away that I feel like it’s finally okay to tell you.

But you remember that night at dinner at your parents’ restaurant, your brother served us all those mai tais?

You mean at Prom. They barely had any alcohol in them, Becky. You know Raymond.

Well, it was enough to get me feeling tipsy.

And then afterwards I begged Reed to let me drive the golf cart because it looked like so much fun. I shouldn’t have because I’d had a mai tai. Well, two.

But anyway, it was his dad’s golf cart and I had no idea what I was doing. That’s how it ended up in the pool.

You drove Reed’s dad’s golf cart into the pool. After two watery mai tais. On prom night. And let Reed take the blame.

Reed wouldn’t let me take the blame! He took responsibility for everything. Even my shoulder.

That. Is. So. Hot.

At the time I was glad because when his dad showed up, he was so mad. I’d never seen anyone so angry!

And the cops were there, too. Something like that on my record, I’d have lost my scholarship to IU. Reed didn’t have anything to lose. Well, I mean, he could have lost his scholarship, but it turned out he didn’t even want to go. He’d lied to everyone about his real plans for the future. Even me.

Then afterwards, he lied to everyone FOR me.

That is basically the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.

Tell me more.

Leeanne, I’m serious.

So am I. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been on a date? I’m half-Hoosier, half-Japanese. The only guys who ask me out here are the ones with fetishes. And not the sexy kind.

Well, you could always come home. I miss you.

No. I’m staying until Obaasan Matsumori tells me the secret of her agedashi tofu. Anyway, more please about all the hot lying.

There’s nothing more to say except that I shouldn’t have let him do it. I’ve regretted it every day since. His dad threw him out, he went to California, and I never heard from him again. I sent him a million texts, emails, and even letters, apologizing. He never replied to a single one.

Well, THAT I knew. The rest of it, though—you just blew my mind. Becky Flowers, little miss goody two shoes, a criminal!

It’s not funny.

It’s kind of funny.

No, it’s not. It’s no wonder he never contacted me again: He must hate me.

And I don’t blame him.

Why should he hate you? You didn’t ask him to do what he did. It was his own choice.

And things turned out pretty great for him. He’s a star athlete now with several multimillion endorsement deals. I mean, what makes you think he even remembers you?

Thanks.

Sorry! But no offense, he probably has models crawling all over him. Not that you’re not hot, but you’re no model.

No, really, thanks.

I can see why you haven’t gotten over him, though. That was so amazing, him taking the blame like that.

Plus he liked the same books you liked.

And there was the thing you mentioned about the sex. Tell me again about the hot sex. What was that trick he did with his pubic bone? Maybe that’s a thing only golfers can do.

No. I’m over him. I’m so over him that the job I have tomorrow is at his parents’ house, helping them downsize.

WHAT.

His sister-in-law hired me.

ARE YOU INSANE?

No. Look, it’s going to be fine.

Aren’t you and the cheese guy engaged???

We’ve talked about marriage, nothing formal.

Well, unless you mean the outdoor ceremony we plan to have someday on the courthouse square, which of course will be catered by Authentic. And please stop calling him the cheese guy, he has a name.

I can’t believe you’re using Authentic as the caterer of your fake wedding, and not Matsumori’s Tiki Palace. We could do sushi boats, pupu platters, and even daiquiris for your guests.

I don’t think serving raw fish at an outdoor ceremony is a good idea. And think about the spicy mayo on your dad’s Atomic Tuna rolls.

And will Judge Stewart be presiding over this fake ceremony?

Look, just remember not to tell anybody what I told you about Reed, okay? No one knows—not even Nicole. I never even admitted it to my blessings journal.

Of course you have a blessings journal. Whatever you say, Miss Demeanor.

Stop.

I can understand now why you don’t want to run into Reed. What I don’t get is how you expect to avoid it while you’re working in his parents’ house.

Well, until this moment, I didn’t know he was actually coming back.

Oh, he’s back all right.

But maybe he and his dad still aren’t speaking, so you won’t run into him over there.

And from the other stuff my mom told me—like about Judge Stewart getting arrested—those people sound like a hot mess.

Cleaning up hot messes is my specialty.

Oh, right! I’m 6500 miles away, and even I can see that *YOU* are a hot mess.

Thanks. Thanks for that.

Douitashimashite (that’s “You’re Welcome”—formal—in Japanese)