CHAPTER FOUR

It took me hours to fall asleep. I spent time analyzing my feelings, trying to figure out why I was freaking out so much. My mom was obvious, but with Jake? I decided the reason that I was more upset than normal was due to the fact that I had been looking forward to unloading on him and getting his sympathetic response. Even though he couldn’t completely understand my maternal situation because he adored his mother, he was always ready with a shoulder when I needed it.

Or he had been before last night.

That morning he wasn’t in English class, and I went from being hurt to worried. What if something had happened to him? I texted him, asking where he was.

No answer.

Where could he be? I wanted to go looking for him.

I considered my options and exactly how much trouble I would be in if the school caught me ditching when I got this prickly feeling on the back of my neck. Like somebody was watching me.

Mercedes Bentley, my nemesis, stood about ten feet away and stared with an evil grin. She’d been punished and lost her university of choice from all her bullying toward me earlier in the year. Instead of giving in and admitting defeat, it felt like she was biding her time. Waiting for a chance. Like some poisonous, vengeful viper just lying in wait until she could fill me full of poison.

Or maybe I just had a really overactive imagination.

This wasn’t the first time I’d caught her blatantly staring at me. I might have been tempted to question her level of interest, only I happened to know she was madly in love with Jake and hated me for dating him. That she’d become the girlfriend of his former best friend, Scott, just to be closer to him. And despite the fact that Jake and I had been together almost the entire school year, I knew she still wanted him.

But this was more than just that. She smiled like . . . she knew something.

What if she did?

I mean, Scott and Jake didn’t ever hang out anymore, but they were still on the school’s various sports teams together. What if Jake had said something to Scott? And he’d immediately run and told his awful girlfriend? And now she knew some secret about Jake that I didn’t?

Or worse, what if she had tied Jake up and left him in a basement somewhere? I reminded myself that nobody in Malibu had a basement and he was fine. Even if he wasn’t answering my texts.

In fact, I was freaking out about nothing. Jake could miss one night and one phone call. It didn’t mean our relationship was falling apart. We were solid. Totally solid. Like one of those couples who smushes their names together. Jattie. Make. Totally fine.

So, so fine.

And I’d nearly convinced myself of this fact up until the moment when everybody suddenly headed to the football field and my distraction caused me to get carried along by the tide.

Scott was in the bleachers, singing a song I’d never heard to Mercedes. He actually had a decent singing voice, which surprised me. He said something about Mercedes being too good to be true, and I half expected a bolt of lightning to suddenly appear and strike him down for lying.

Then the school marching band started up behind me, playing along to Scott’s song. Mercedes stood on a large wooden box that the cheerleaders used for one of their routines, enjoying every second of being in the spotlight.

Which made zero sense, because Mercedes had ignored her suspension back in September and had come to the masquerade ball. Ms. Rathbone had caught her, rescinded her letter of recommendation for college, and then banned her from every future dance. She couldn’t even go to prom.

And she was still getting a promposal.

“It’s from that movie. Ten Things I Hate About You? The hero does this same thing for the heroine,” I heard someone in the crowd say. Reenacting a scene from a movie? That belonged to Jake and me. Even as I thought it I knew how ridiculous I was being, but I couldn’t help how Scott’s actions made my intestines tie themselves up into knots.

Not wanting to subject myself to this particular kind of torture any further, I pushed my way back through the large group and headed for the doors.

My mother denied my existence, and Mercedes freaking Bentley got a marching band singing her praises. Yep, the universe was definitely fair.

Once I got back inside, I crashed right into Jennifer. Or Ms. Putnam, which was what I was supposed to call her at school.

“Mattie, are you okay? Ella told us that you saw that video of your mom.”

Jennifer looked so concerned, so kind, and gentle. I loved how soft she appeared, like a master artist had deliberately blurred all her edges. She’d pulled her hair into a high ponytail, and her brown, frizzy natural curls spread out like a halo behind her head.

I opened my mouth to tell her I was fine, but nothing came out.

“Your dad didn’t want you to see that video. He feels terrible about leaving his laptop out where you could find it. He wanted to know what your mom was saying so he could protect you.”

I didn’t need them to protect me. I just needed to find a way to cope with my mom’s crappiness. I nodded, thankful that there were some people on my side who loved me.

“Sweetie, I think you need a big hug.”

I was on the verge of telling her that I didn’t like hugs when she enveloped me in her arms.

And it was . . . not terrible.

Actually, it was how I imagined a mom’s hug would feel. She smelled like oil paints, chalk, and pencil lead. Which was kind of how I pictured heaven smelling.

She let go and patted me on the back a few times as the first bell rang. “We should get to class. But come find me if you need to talk.”

I realized that I felt . . . better. Jennifer had done that for me.

Although he hadn’t proposed yet, and despite my disdain for his multiple past marriages, I found myself desperately hoping that my dad would be smart enough to make Jennifer his wife.

Lunchtime rolled around, and Ella and I sat together since both of our boyfriends were MIA. She stared at her phone, scrolling through large blocks of text.

“What are you doing?” I asked as I pushed aside what the cafeteria claimed was a feta and quinoa salad. As I didn’t recognize either of the top ingredients, and “salad” was just code for vegetables nobody actually enjoyed eating, I wasn’t going to force it on myself. Making sure the coast was clear, I pulled out a plastic baggie filled with soft-baked chocolate chip cookies.

“Looking through my course schedule for UCLA next year. They don’t have the fashion merchandising major I was hoping for.”

“I thought you were going to major in design.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I’m good at pulling looks together or copying famous designers. I’m not very good at creating my own clothes. I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m going to try and become a fashion stylist. But it’s really competitive, so I just wanted to make sure I’m taking the best possible classes this fall.”

“If UCLA doesn’t have the major you want, why not go to a different school?”

Ella looked at me like I was stupid. “Because I want to go to UCLA.”

It had been the school her mother had attended, and Ella had never even considered another university. She’d worked hard not only to get in, but she also had a part-time job to help pay for tuition. When Ella’s mom, Dad’s second wife, had died, Ella had had no other family. So we had taken her in, and she’d seemed to feel like she had to earn her place with us. Dad had told her that was dumb and that he would pay for all her college expenses, because as far as he was concerned, she was his daughter just as much as I was.

It had been a really emotional experience, but it had also taken a lot of the strain and stress out of Ella’s life.

Especially the whole not having to get student loans and go into debt for the rest of her life part.

“Where is Belle? Has anyone seen Belle?”

I turned to see Victor Kim in a blue-and-gold suit/costume, holding a glass bell jar in his right hand. Was he actually wearing white knee-high tights? His legs were so thin it amazed me that he could walk around on them all day without them breaking. It took me a second to figure out what he was doing.

“Where is my Beauty?”

Mindi stood, both hands over her chest, her eyes bigger than any anime character I’d ever seen. “Here I am!”

He knelt in front of her, offering her the glass-encased crystal rose. “Dearest Belle, will you ‘Be My Guest’ at prom? Because this Beast needs his Beauty by his side.”

With shaking hands, Mindi took his gift. “Yes! Of course I will!”

Victor stood and pulled Mindi into a serious kiss among applause, hoots, and hollers. I couldn’t believe what I’d just witnessed. Serious, straitlaced Victor Kim had made an utter fool of himself for the girl he loved.

He’d given her a literal fairy tale.

The ugly wave of jealousy that slammed into me made me feel like I was going to be ill.

After their kiss ended, Mindi rushed over to our table with Victor in tow. “Mattie! Ella! Did you see that? Did you see what Victor, my boyfriend, did?”

“Kind of hard to miss.”

She nodded enthusiastically, missing my sarcasm. “Here, look at this!” She handed her rose inside a jar to Ella, who put down her phone to take it. “Beauty and the Beast is my favorite movie ever. Which Victor, my boyfriend, totally remembered. Isn’t he the best?”

“He’s . . . something.” I tugged on Ella’s arm. “Come on. Sorry, guys, we need to get to class.”

Ella congratulated them both and handed the rose back to Mindi. “Why are we leaving?” she said after we were out of earshot of the annoyingly happy couple. “We still have like fifteen minutes before lunch ends.”

“I prefer not to throw up my cookies, thanks.” I’d discovered that promposals weren’t nearly as fun when you despaired of ever getting one. “Plus, I’ve missed enough class today already.”

“Yeah, I noticed you weren’t in PE today.”

“That’s because I’m in the Fitness Protection Program. Can’t blow my cover by exercising.”

Actually, I’d skipped class because I’d decided having your mother publicly disown you to the entire internet should have some kind of side benefit. So I had told Jennifer I needed a break from a couple of classes. She had, predictably, given in after enough begging and pleading. I had spent the time drawing manga, and it had improved my outlook even more.

Or it had until the Beauty and her Beast fiasco.

And the fact that we were headed to calculus, also known as the Black Arts of the Devil, didn’t help my annoyed mood.

Right up until the moment I saw Jake leaning against our classroom door. He grinned at me like nothing was wrong.

And even though I was frustrated by his recent behavior, my heart still skipped a beat at the fire in his dark brown eyes.

“There’s my girl. I’ve been looking for you.”

What did that mean? I’d been where I was supposed to be. In class (mostly) at school. I hadn’t been AWOL the entire day.

But then he wrapped me up in his arms, and I was again forced to reconsider my stance on hugs. I loved being held by him. It was the safest, warmest, most butterfly-inducing feeling in the whole world.

“Where have you been?” I asked, and watched as some of the light in his eyes died.

“Around.”

Not an answer, but he didn’t seem inclined to say more. Which frustrated me.

“Let’s go grab our seats,” he said, holding his hand out to me.

I wouldn’t say no to that! His large hand enclosed mine, and I couldn’t help but happy sigh. I followed him into the classroom, and it was only then that I noticed Ella wasn’t with us. I wondered where she had disappeared off to.

Jake ran his thumb along the inside of my wrist after we’d sat down, and my entire arm went limp in response. He winked at me. “Looks like I make you feel weak.”

“If you must know, it’s this classroom. I think I’m getting math-related physical disorders. Like fibromyalgebra.”

Encouraged by his laughter, I kept talking. “I’ve also self-diagnosed a possible arithmia. And percentile dysfunction.”

“I hear they make a pill for that.”

I wished they made a pill for passing calculus. It would make my life so much easier.

The bell rang, and the other students filed into the classroom, chatting as they took their seats. Our teacher, Ms. Elias, began to talk over us as she passed out sheets of paper. “Today we’re having a pop quiz.” I was one of the people who groaned in response to her news. “Multiple choice. Or in your case, Mr. McIver, multiple guess. This quiz is something of a review and will cover some trig, some geometry, and a bit of probability and statistics.”

Jake handed my quiz to me. He mouthed the words “good luck” before facing front.

The instructions at the top of the quiz told us to show our work. The first question was about finding the cosine. I wished I could tell math to grow up and solve its own problems. Or that a cosine was what you did to a bank check and not something I would ever, ever use in my real life and, thus, did not need to find it.

I worked my way through the first two problems, filling in the bubble next to what I hoped was the right answer.

When I got to the third question, I put my pencil down. It read:

3. Jonah Peterson wants to ask Amy Feldman to the prom. There is a 100 percent chance that he went to a lot of effort to get Ms. Elias to hand out a fake pop quiz. He predicts that there is at least an 85 percent chance that Amy will like his promposal and will say yes. What is the probability that Jonah and Amy will go to the prom together?

I looked up to see a nervous Jonah standing at the front of the classroom, clutching a single pink rose.

“A hundred percent!” Amy said from the front row, running up to Jonah and throwing her arms around his neck. More applause and “aws” from the female members of the class. I looked at Jake, wondering if any of this had inspired him.

Or at least reminded him.

But instead of watching Jonah and Amy get their picture taken by multiple people, Jake looked at his phone intently. Something was bothering him.

I’d spent all this time impatiently waiting for him to step up. Life was too short, and mothers pretended like you weren’t real. I should ask about prom and whatever else was going on with him instead of hoping things would just work themselves out.

“That was some promposal, huh?”

Jake made the sound he made when he wanted to pretend like he was listening to me but actually wasn’t.

I said his name, waiting for his eyes to meet mine. His eyes flashed with what looked like worry, followed by irritation.

“About prom . . .”

He let out a sigh of exasperation. “Prom is not that big a deal. It’s just one dance. I can’t believe how everyone’s acting like it’s the most important thing in the whole world.”

It felt like he’d just verbally slapped me. For a moment I sat there in stunned silence. “It’s important to me.”

“Not everything’s about you, Mattie. I have to go.”

Go? He just got here!

He stood up, grabbing his backpack and ignoring Ms. Elias telling him to take his seat. He left the classroom without even glancing back at me.

Jake had called me Mattie. Since we’d become official, he never called me Mattie. Ever.

Something big was going on. Something bigger than even the prom.

I hated that I didn’t know what it was.