“I get that,” Em said. “And I’m sorry the committee sucks. But do you think, maybe, you shouldn’t let it carry so much weight? I mean . . .” She spoke carefully, knowing she was treading on thin ice. “It’s just a dance. In twenty years you won’t remember any of it. The decorations or the music or any of the other stuff that’s keeping you up at night. We’ll just pick something out at the Party Shop this weekend.”
“The Party Shop?” Gabby said each word as though it was a sexually transmitted disease. “Em, this isn’t, like, our fifth-grade graduation. You know what?” Her voice quivered again. “Since this is obviously the last thing you care about, I’ll find someone else to cochair. Someone who gets that the decorations can’t come from the freaking Party Shop.” And then she hung up.
Em tried calling back, but it rang twice and then went to voice mail. Fantastic. A fine start to her Saturday.
The fight with Gabby stuck with Em all day (which had at least one positive effect—for once, she wasn’t thinking about the Furies) as she legitimately did try to study for the SATs. After botching yet another practice test, she threw her test prep book at the wall in frustration. Here she was, by herself on a Saturday evening, missing Gabby and wanting to make it up to her.
There was only one foolproof solution she could think of.
She called Chinese Dragon Palace and ordered delivery.
“We have food in the refrigerator,” Em’s mom said with raised eyebrows as Em pounded down the stairs to intercept the delivery man as soon as he rang the doorbell. “I’m glad you have your appetite back, but I’d prefer you feasted on something other than fried chicken and egg rolls.”
“I know, Mom.” Em pulled out a crumpled twenty and pressed it into the delivery guy’s hands. “But Gabby and I are—Gabby and I kind of got into a little fight today. And I really want to do something nice for her. I want to bring her an olive branch,” she said, motioning to the bags. “Or an egg roll branch, in this case.”
“And how do you expect to do that? You know the new rule about weekend car use. It’s for your own safety, honey.”
After Em’s car accident on Peaks Road, and then her secret drive out to the new mall construction site, which had ended in JD getting injured, her parents had laid down the law.
“Please, Mom. Gabby’s is practically around the corner. I’ll be home in a few hours.”
With a sigh, her mom relented. “You better be back here by ten p.m., Emily.”
Em was already halfway out the door.
? ? ?
As she was jogging to the car she heard the clanking of tools against JD’s driveway. She looked over in time to see him sliding out from under Mr. Fount’s Mustang, his mad-bomber hat framing his angular face like an astronaut’s helmet. He’d taken his jacket off, presumably to use as a pillow between his body and the cold asphalt, and Em couldn’t help but notice the way his bare biceps flexed when his arms pushed against the fender of the car.
Out of instinct, she shouted across the thin strip of lawn that separated their driveways. “Hey, you!” Almost as quickly, she remembered that they were barely speaking.
As he stood up, unfolding his tall and lanky frame, JD’s eyes flickered over Em’s face. For a moment he looked as though he was going to flat-out ignore her and go inside. But then his gaze settled on the bags in her hand.
“Let me guess,” he said. “Fried pork dumplings.”
“And sesame noodles—your favorite,” she burst out eagerly. “Special delivery to Gabby.”
He paused and toed the crusty snow with his boot. It was all Em could do to not charge over to him and wrap her arms around his waist. Please, please, please forgive me, she’d say. I love you. I’ll make you believe me.
“You fixing your dad’s car?” The answer was obvious, but she didn’t want the conversation to be over yet.
“Yeah,” JD said. There was a brief silence. “Well, I hope she doesn’t hog the fortune cookies as bad as you do.” His forehead wrinkled and he cracked a small smile, gone almost as soon as it came. Then he turned abruptly and went into the house.
As she unlocked her car, Em was elated. It was a short exchange, but it was progress.
? ? ?
The Chinese food may have been overkill, Em discovered when she showed up at Gabby’s doorstep. And it probably hadn’t been necessary for her to bring the stack of old DVDs that Gabby had asked to borrow ages ago.
Gabby answered the door giggling, clad in black yoga pants and an oversized eighties sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder. She seemed both surprised and happy to see Em.
“Embear!” She threw her arms up for a hug. “Perfect night for a drop-by! I’m so glad you’re here.” And as Em leaned over to unlace her boots, Gabby whispered, “I’m sorry about before. I know I was a little harsh.”
Gabby dragged Em by the hand into the living room, where a short, blond, eager-looking girl—the one who’d gotten doused in spaghetti sauce the other day—was sitting cross-legged on the floor. She was wearing running pants and a long-sleeved shirt that read ALABAMA BEAUTIES in small print above the breast.