The Jerk Magnet

The second week of school showed some signs of improvement for Chelsea. Although she was trying to keep things cool and calm between her and Dayton, she could tell that he was getting impatient. She could also tell that he wanted everyone to think they were a couple. In a way, that was sweet. In another way, it was disturbing.

However, it was not as disturbing as the way Nicholas Prague was treating her. After attending youth group on Saturday night with Janelle and a slightly irritable Lishia, Chelsea had hoped that other members of the church group would become more accepting of her. Of course, Chase was always glad to see her. Not that it helped her friendship with Janelle much, since she still seemed to be pining for him.

Perhaps Chelsea’s biggest social success had been initiating a somewhat shaky friendship with Olivia Hutchison. Although they had economics together, Olivia had been a bit chilly at first, but Chelsea remained persistent and eventually Olivia warmed up.

“You’re a lot nicer than I thought you were,” Olivia finally told her on Friday.

“And you’re even funnier than I thought you were,” Chelsea said. “I seriously think you could do stand-up and get rich.”

“Thanks!” Olivia beamed, but then her smile faded. “The truth is I’d trade my humor for your looks.”

Chelsea shook her head as they left the classroom. “Looks are highly overrated. And someday, when we have time, I can tell you why.”

“Really?” Olivia looked hopeful.

As predicted, Chelsea had gotten the role of Maggie in the play. But now she was concerned that Janelle, and Dayton as well, might’ve been right about Mr. Valotti. Oh, he hadn’t actually done anything morally questionable. But he was definitely a touchy-feely sort of guy, and sometimes the implications seemed clear, even to someone as oblivious as her. As a result, she felt like she needed to keep a safe distance and watch her step, but being on her guard like that felt restrictive. And then she’d second-guess herself, wondering if her suspicions had more to do with what she’d heard than what she’d actually experienced firsthand. Sometimes being attractive felt like a tricky tightrope dance. She wondered if she’d ever figure out how to act like a normal person.

However, the most frustrating part of her fledgling social life was Nicholas Prague. It wasn’t that she’d expected him to fall madly in love with her. Not after the night of the concert anyway. But he’d been so cold to her the first week of school that she wondered if there was some reason he detested her. Had she done something offensive? She was working hard to eliminate her crush on him, but she was learning the hard way that the heat of a crush is a hard thing to extinguish. She wished she’d never allowed herself to feel that way. At the same time, she wondered if she really had a chance—did she pick love or did love pick her? Or was she totally naive to confuse a stupid crush with real love? So many questions . . . Where were the answers?

She eventually concluded that she’d been foolish to nurture an interest in someone like Nicholas Prague when it was clear he disliked her. Still, it didn’t seem too much to expect for him to be civilized, especially since they were in the same youth group. How was it that all the sweet talk of brotherly love ran rampant on church property but evaporated on school grounds? Just the same, she tried to be polite and friendly to him, but she was rewarded with what felt like cold hostility. Nicholas treated her as if she had cooties. Her respect for him, despite his noble words in youth group and his unbearably good looks, was rapidly deteriorating. In her opinion, Nicholas Prague was a snob. Or worse—a hypocrite.

By the third week of school, Chelsea realized she had an interesting and varied collection of friends. From star quarterback Dayton Moore to academic geek Janelle Parker to ever-adoring Chase Lassiter to chubby but funny Olivia Hutchison. She’d also befriended a couple of drama kids. It wasn’t unusual for Chelsea to be surrounded by this diverse gathering of friends during lunch.

She’d also made some frenemies, including popular but snooty Riley Atkins, who sometimes acted nice, as well as the not-so-popular but equally snooty Lishia Vance. Both girls, for whatever reasons, pretended to like Chelsea, but she knew better. Mostly she tried to take girls like that in stride, the same way she took the guys who pursued her in stride. However, the balancing act, especially with Dayton’s constant attentions, was getting more and more difficult.

“You should run for homecoming queen too,” Dayton told Chelsea. He pointed up to a glittery poster with Riley’s photo beaming down on them. Naturally, Riley had long ago made it clear she intended to win that crown.

“Why would I do that?” Chelsea asked.

“To beat Riley,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“You should run,” Olivia said from the other end of the lunch table. “I’d help you launch a last-minute campaign.”

“So would I,” Chase offered. “I could be your campaign manager.”

Dayton tossed Chase a warning look.

“Thanks anyway.” Chelsea smiled at them. “That’s really sweet of you guys, but it’s not even a possibility for me. That’s the weekend of my dad’s wedding, so I won’t even be in town.”

On their way to drama, Janelle asked Chelsea if she would’ve run for homecoming queen if her dad’s wedding hadn’t been a factor.

“You want the truth?”

“Of course,” Janelle said.

“I’m so relieved that it’s not an option. I’d rather walk over hot coals than run against Riley. That girl hates me.”

“How do you know?”

“I can feel it.”

“Because of Dayton?”

“I know it makes no sense. According to Dayton, Riley broke up with him. But I have a feeling there’s more to the story.” She paused by the door to the auditorium.

“There’s always more to the story.”

As they went backstage, Chelsea asked Janelle how she was enjoying doing makeup. “Are you okay with it?” She lowered her voice. “I know you wanted a part in the play.”

“It’s only fair. I’ve gotten so many roles in the past . . . it’s my turn to do makeup. And I’m actually getting pretty good at it. I can’t wait to try some cherry-red lipstick on you.”

Chelsea laughed. “As long as you make me look like Bette Davis, I won’t complain.”

“I love that we’re going with the forties style. So much more dramatic.”

“Speaking of dramatic,” Mr. Valotti said loudly, “let’s get to work, class.” He clapped his hands and called them to their places, and they picked up where they’d left off yesterday. There was no place at school where Chelsea felt as comfortable as she did on the stage. Accustomed to acting—wasn’t that all she did?—she liked the freedom of stepping into a different character and forgetting all about her own life. In fact, she was getting so comfortable with it that she wasn’t even too bothered by Mr. Valotti’s “friendliness” toward her. Like so many other things, she was beginning to take it in stride. And when he asked her and a couple of others to stay after school, she didn’t feel the least bit concerned.

“I don’t like this,” Janelle told her as they left the auditorium.

“What?”

Janelle started going on about Mr. Valotti’s reputation and how she didn’t trust his motives.

“I think he’s just the flirty-friendly type,” Chelsea said to reassure her. “Like the dogs that are all bark and no bite, he’s harmless.”

“I think he’s lulled you into believing he’s harmless.”

“Janelle!” Chelsea frowned at her.

“Excuse me for caring about my friend.”

Chelsea softened. “I’m glad you care about me, Janelle. So what do you suggest I do?”

Janelle’s brow creased. “I’ll ask my mom to pick us up, and I’ll come with you after school. I’ll hang out behind the scenes just to be sure he doesn’t try anything untoward.”

“ ‘Untoward’?” Chelsea chuckled. “Only you would use a word like that.” She used her hands to measure the height difference between herself and her petite friend. “My personal mini bodyguard. Man, I feel so safe.”

“Hey, I might be small, but I have a big set of lungs and I’m not afraid to use them.”

Chelsea laughed. “Whatever trips your trigger.”

After school, Janelle and Chelsea headed back to the auditorium. As planned, Janelle faded into the scenery and Chelsea waited along the sidelines for her turn to practice her scene. Mr. Valotti finished coaching some of the actors, then excused them. He called up Archer Davis, the guy playing the starring role of the cantankerous Sheridan Whiteside, and Chelsea, who was playing Sheridan’s secretary. Mr. Valotti gave them some direction, then told them to begin the scene. After a few do-overs, Mr. Valotti seemed satisfied with Archer’s performance.

“That was fine,” he told Archer. “Just make sure you work on that pratfall. You need to get it down so that you don’t actually break your leg.” They laughed, and Mr. Valotti excused Archer, then turned to Chelsea. “I’d like to go over the scene where Maggie meets Bert.”

“But Tyler’s not here,” Chelsea said. Tyler was playing the small-town journalist Bert, Maggie’s love interest.

“I’ll read his part.” Mr. Valotti leaned close to her, reaching across to point at a spot on her script. “Go ahead and start here.”

Feeling a bit uneasy but thankful that Janelle was nearby—she was, wasn’t she?—Chelsea began to read. It wasn’t exactly a steamy scene since Maggie and Bert had only just met. But Mr. Valotti seemed to be taking every opportunity to make it into something more.

“You need to turn up the heat,” he told her. “The audience needs to feel the chemistry between Maggie and Bert. You want them to be hooked, anticipating the romance that’s coming. So as you read that line, look deeply into Bert’s eyes with longing, as if you’re seeing the man of your dreams. Can you do that?”

Chelsea swallowed hard. “I think so.”

Standing uncomfortably close to her, he read Bert’s line, then waited. She took a quick breath and looked directly into Mr. Valotti’s eyes. Trying to keep her voice from shaking, she repeated the next line. But her heart was pounding hard, and something about this felt all wrong . . . and scary.

“That was a little bit better, but I think we need to try it—”

“Hey, Chelsea,” Janelle called in an offhand way as she came onstage. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you were still practicing.” She stopped on the sidelines, lowering her voice. “I’ll just wait for you here—quiet as a mouse.”

Mr. Valotti stepped away from Chelsea and his expression changed. But without missing a beat, he read the next line, and then Chelsea read hers. Following his direction, she continued looking “deeply” into his eyes. But she could tell this was making him uncomfortable now, and for some reason that was satisfying to her. She wanted to make him squirm. Finally he proclaimed practice done, said he’d see them later, and left the stage.

Without speaking, Chelsea tossed Janelle a grateful glance and gathered up her things, and the two of them quickly exited the auditorium. It wasn’t until they were safely away from there that Chelsea admitted that Janelle had been right.

“I don’t think I was imagining that,” she said in a hushed voice. “He was coming on to me. I could feel it. And when you showed up, he acted differently.”

“I know.” Janelle nodded soberly. “It was freaky to see. I should’ve popped in sooner, but I was curious as to how far he’d take it.”

“Thanks a lot.” Chelsea frowned. “I feel like I was your social science experiment.”

“Hey, I would’ve jumped in if I needed to.” Janelle sighed. “I think I almost wished he’d stepped over the line. Then we could get him fired.”

“That seems a little harsh.”

“Really?” Janelle turned and looked intently at Chelsea. “What if he has actually taken it further with other girls? You know what I mean. Would you want to protect him then?”

“No.” Chelsea firmly shook her head. “You’re right.”

“Promise me, Chelsea, if Valotti ever tries anything, you know, seriously, that you’ll tell on him, okay?”

Chelsea held up her hand like a pledge. “Absolutely. I promise.”

“These guys should start a club.”

“A club?” Chelsea was confused.

“A jerk club. Guys like Valotti and Dayton and even Chase could all be card-carrying jerks.”

“It seems unfair to classify Dayton and Chase in that club,” Chelsea said.

“Give them both time, or opportunity, and they’ll prove themselves worthy of the title.”

“Does that mean you’ve given up on Chase?” Chelsea asked as they went outside to wait for Janelle’s mom.

Janelle gave a loud, exasperated sigh. “When I see Chase drooling over you . . . what am I supposed to do?”

Chelsea studied Janelle as they sat on the steps. As usual of late, Janelle’s hair was pulled back in a drab-looking ponytail, and her face was pretty much devoid of makeup. Even her outfit was kind of ho-hum. Chelsea would never say this out loud, but Janelle seemed to have given up—she seemed content to be dowdy. Unfortunately, she seemed so glum right now that Chelsea didn’t have the heart to point this out. But seriously, how did Janelle hope to catch Chase’s eye looking like that?

“And you can’t exactly lecture me on not giving up on a guy.” Janelle gave Chelsea an accusing look.

“What do you mean?” Chelsea knew what she meant, but she hoped if she stalled long enough, Janelle’s mom would show up and this conversation would be shelved.

“You know exactly what and who I mean. I still see you looking at Nicholas sometimes—in the exact same way Valotti was trying to get you to look at him.”

Chelsea was shocked. “Really? It’s that obvious?”

“To me it is. And I’ll bet Dayton’s noticed it too. Especially since he seems to have taken a real dislike to Nicholas. Have you noticed that?”

“Now that you mention it . . .” Chelsea slowly shook her head as this sank in. “But it’s totally ridiculous. Not only does Nicholas act like I don’t exist, he actually seems to despise me. And it’s not that I’m into Dayton, but he seriously has nothing to be jealous of when it comes to Nicholas Prague.”

“But you wish he did.”

Chelsea brushed a piece of lint from her jeans and shrugged.

“I know you do.” Janelle lowered her voice, like she thought someone might be listening. “And so does Lishia.”

Chelsea blinked. “Lishia likes Nicholas?”

“She’s been in love with him for a couple of years now.”

“Does he like her?”

“He used to. But that was a long time ago. Like middle school. But she can’t seem to get over him.”

Chelsea wouldn’t admit it, but she could relate.

“Want to know my theory?”

She shrugged. “I guess I might as well since it seems your mother has forgotten us.”

“I think Nicholas is afraid of you.”

“Huh?”

“You’re too pretty, Chelsea.”

Chelsea laughed. “Yeah, right. Tell me another one.”

Janelle shook her finger at her. “You are! Your stepmom-to-be did too good a job on you. You’re the kind of girl who turns heads. Just think of how Valotti was coming on to you, the way Dayton wants to own you body and soul, and how Chase can’t keep his eyes off you. That’s just to name a few.”

“And what does that have to do with Nicholas?”

“I think that, in the same way you attract guys who are jerks, you repel the guys who aren’t—at least the ones who are trying not to be jerks.”

“That’s nuts.”

“No, it’s not. Think about it. Nicholas recommitted his life to God. He’s trying to make better choices in all areas of his life. Why would he want to risk it all by getting involved with a hot babe like you?”

“That’s ridiculous.” But even as she said this, Chelsea wasn’t so sure.

“No, it isn’t. In fact, I heard Nicholas say something to Chase that backs up my theory. He told Chase that if he kept going after the wrong kind of girl, he’d seriously regret it later.”

“The wrong kind of girl?” Chelsea frowned. “As in me?”

Janelle just nodded.

“Wow, that’s pretty judgmental.”

“Yeah, it seemed unfair.”

Chelsea was trying to grasp this, and she was also trying not to get angry. But it was frustrating—very frustrating! “So what am I supposed to do, Janelle? Do I turn myself back into the drab wallflower I used to be?” She pointed at her friend. “Like you?”

Janelle looked surprised.

“No offense, Janelle, but you have been letting yourself go. I mean, you started out strong at the beginning of school, but then it’s like you gave up.”

“Gave up?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. Since you’re so good at telling me the truth, I figured I should be able to speak honestly with you. Right?”

Janelle’s mom’s car pulled up then, but both girls just stared at each other for a long moment. Chelsea knew she’d pushed things too far this time. But how was it fair for Janelle to speak her mind and put down Chelsea, while Chelsea was supposed to keep her opinions to herself?

Still, she regretted her words as they rode home in silence. Mrs. Parker attempted some small talk but finally gave up. Chelsea wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Janelle was the best friend she had—she’d come to Chelsea’s rescue with Mr. Valotti. And this was how Chelsea thanked her?





Chelsea called Janelle later that night and profusely apologized. “I don’t know what came over me or why I said all that,” she explained. “I think I was just really frustrated. Please forgive me, Janelle.”

“I already did.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. God says he forgives us, so in the same way we should forgive others.”

“Wow. I guess I should keep that in mind.”

“I was actually thinking about the whole thing . . . and I’ve got an idea.”

“An idea?”

“Yeah. You want to come over so we can discuss it?”

“Discuss it?” Chelsea wondered what kind of an idea Janelle could possibly have in mind. “Okay.”

Chelsea had been in Janelle’s bedroom a few times, but she was still mesmerized by all the old movie posters and theater memorabilia. It was like a drama shrine. Even Janelle’s mirror, rimmed with light bulbs, was theatrical looking. It seemed that everywhere Chelsea looked, boas and necklaces and other kinds of costume accessories and props were hanging. Chelsea loved being in this space, and during the time that Lishia had pushed her out, she’d missed it.

“So . . .” Chelsea sat on the edge of Janelle’s bed. “What’s your big idea?”

Janelle held up a flyer about a youth group camp that was coming up the week after Dad’s wedding. “Fall camp.”

“Yeah, I know about that.”

“I have a plan.”

“A plan?”

Janelle began talking about drama and some tricks she’d been learning about theatrical makeup and how it was possible to disguise someone so that they were totally unrecognizable.

“Uh-huh.” Chelsea put a hot pink boa around her neck. “And your point is what?”

“We’ll make you into a plain Jane.”

Chelsea stared at her. “Huh?”

“We’ll use a wig and makeup and some drab clothes, maybe even a pair of glasses, and we’ll make you into a plain Jane.”

Chelsea was still confused. “And why would we want to do that?”

“It’ll be a test.”

“What kind of a test?”

“To see what Nicholas will do.”

“I’m still lost.”

“Well, you want to get Nick’s attention, right?”

Chelsea shrugged.

“If we transform you into a plain Jane, we can give you a different name and a new identity, and maybe you can get to know him and find out if you two really jive, because he’ll have no excuse not to—”

“Yes!” Chelsea stood. “I do get it. Kind of like Eliza Doolittle, only backward. Or sort of.” She looked at herself in Janelle’s mirror. “But you don’t have to make me ugly, do you?” She didn’t like to think she was shallow, but she wasn’t sure she could go back to that . . . not even for a weekend.

“No. Not ugly. Just plain. We’ll simply remove the jerk magnet persona.” Janelle stepped next to her, then frowned. “We’ll make you look more like someone . . . someone like . . . well, like me.”

A light went on in Chelsea’s head, and she pointed at Janelle’s reflection. “And we can make you look more like me!”

“What?”

“Yes!” She turned to face Janelle. “We’ll give you the wow factor so that you turn heads, and we’ll see if you can catch Chase’s attention.”

“Oh . . . I don’t know.” Janelle looked worried.

“Come on, Janelle, if I’m willing to do this, you should be too.”

“But what’s the point of pretending to be what I’m not to get Chase to look at me?”

“I could say the same to you about me. But this is an experiment, right?”

“Right.”

“I’m not doing it unless you’re doing it.”

Janelle cracked a smile. “It could be pretty hilarious.”

“Not to mention revealing.”

“I haven’t figured out all the details yet.”

“But I’m sure you will. And I’ll help you.”

“I know you have your dad’s wedding next weekend. But that still gives us this weekend to pull something together. Do you really want to do this?”

Chelsea laughed. “Why not?”

They shook hands and immediately began to plan. Janelle would have to get a blonde wig. “At least as long as my hair,” Chelsea told her. “And how about wearing some heels to make you seem taller? We don’t want your height to give you away.”

“Good point.” Janelle made some notes. “We have to do everything possible to keep from getting found out.”

“That would be so embarrassing.”

“And we need to give ourselves new names and new profiles, and we’ll need to remember what they are for each other too—unless we want to pretend like we’ve just met and got stuck in the same room together.”

“That might be simpler.”

“We can say we’re from one of the other schools since there are about six different youth groups that attend fall camp.” Janelle pressed her lips together. “I’ll try to figure out some way to get us a room to ourselves. Usually there are four to a room . . . but sometimes there are exceptions, like if there’s a health concern or some other reason. I’ll try to think of a believable excuse.”

“Like what?” Chelsea frowned.

“Maybe one of us has a mental issue.” Janelle giggled. “Some kind of weird phobia or a snoring disorder or body odor problem. Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something good and sympathetic too.”

Chelsea felt concerned. “Do you think it’s wrong to do this?”

“It’s an experiment,” Janelle assured her. “A social experiment. Who knows, we might be able to use this for school. We could write a paper on it.”

Chelsea nodded. “That’s true. We probably will make some interesting discoveries.” Since Janelle, who’d been going to the church hosting the camp since birth, thought this was okay, Chelsea decided not to question it either. It really could be a very revealing experiment. And who was she to stand in the way of science, or social science, or whatever kind of weird science a crazy plan like this might fall into?

On Saturday they spent the morning going through each of their own closets, coming up with some items that would contribute to some boring plain Jane outfits for Chelsea as well as some more stylish ones for Janelle’s new look. Janelle had also borrowed some wigs from the drama department.

“Borrowed?” Chelsea questioned as Janelle worked on the drab brown hair that reminded Chelsea a bit of her previous hair color—muddy and dull.

“Actually, I checked them out,” Janelle said. “As part of the hair and makeup crew, I’m allowed to take things home and work on them.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll return them on Monday, then check them out again right before camp.”

“Okay . . .”

“Don’t worry, no one from drama even goes to our youth group or will be at camp, so no one will have the slightest clue as to what I’m up to.” Janelle slipped some glasses with black plastic rims on Chelsea’s face.

“Wow, now that really looks different.”

“And once I do your makeup—”

“What do you plan to do anyway? Give me warts and a hooked nose?”

“No, silly. You’re not supposed to look like the Wicked Witch of the West.” Janelle studied Chelsea closely. “First I’ll tone down your complexion so it looks like you don’t get much sun, then I’ll pale and thin those lips, maybe do something to make your nose a bit less perfect, add a little something to your brow line—”

Chelsea touched her forehead. “You have no idea the pain I went through to get these eyebrows.”

“Well, at least this will only be temporary.”

“That reminds me of something,” Chelsea said. “I told Kate about what we’re doing.”

“Kate, as in soon-to-be stepmom Kate?”

“Yes. She’s my confidante.”

“What did she say?”

“She laughed.”

Janelle looked relieved.

“And she said if I send her a photo of you, she might have some tips for your makeover.”

“My makeover?” Janelle frowned. “Who said anything about a makeover? This is just a theatrical act.”

“Fine.” Chelsea shrugged. “If you don’t want Kate’s help, I’ll just—”

“No, no,” Janelle said quickly. “We should probably take her up on her offer. You can send her my photo.”

Using her phone, Chelsea took some pics of Janelle, then sent them to Kate. “By the way, Kate reminded me to ask you if it would be okay for me to kind of stay with you while she and Dad are on their honeymoon.”

“Of course. That’ll give us even more time to work on this.”

“I told Dad I was fine on my own, but he doesn’t think I’m old enough.”

“Maybe we can use your house to practice our characters in,” Janelle suggested. “I mean, since no one will be around to question us.”

“Great idea.”

They spent a couple of hours just experimenting with makeup, which was both interesting and scary. Chelsea was surprised at how little it took to change a person back from looking hot to not. She was more than eager to wash off the makeup and go back to her “normal” look. Later in the afternoon, after Janelle’s mom took a break from a paper she was working on (she’d returned to school for her master’s degree), it was time to do a little shopping.

“Chelsea is helping me with a makeover,” Janelle explained to her mom as she drove them to Best 4 Less.

“How nice,” Mrs. Parker said with enthusiasm. “Chelsea, we’ve all noticed that you do have a certain sort of panache style. It would be nice of you to share that with Janelle. Especially since, as everyone knows, I’m not terribly talented at that sort of thing.”

“That’s probably because you focus more on your mind than your looks,” Chelsea said, then regretted her words. “I mean that as a compliment, Mrs. Parker. I think brains are a lot more important than appearances. But I guess it’s nice when you can have both.”

Janelle told her mom about Chelsea’s dad’s upcoming marriage and asked if it was okay for Chelsea to stay with them during the honeymoon.

“Of course, we’d love to have you.”

“I’ll probably be at my house a lot of the time,” Chelsea said. “But Dad doesn’t want me sleeping there alone.”

“Of course not. I’d feel the same about Janelle. How exciting that you’re getting a new stepmother.”

Janelle told her about how fashionable Kate was and how she’d helped Chelsea with a makeover.

“Kate sounds like a delightful person. You must feel lucky, Chelsea.”

“She’s pretty cool. Maybe you can get to know her when she moves in with us,” Chelsea said. “I know she’ll want to make some friends.”

At the store, they first looked for some stylish pieces for Janelle. Chelsea could tell she was pushing her friend way beyond her comfort zone, but wasn’t that what this was about? After they’d found some perfect items, they went over to the bargain rack to look for some plain Jane pieces for Chelsea.

“You’re a natural at finding the most practical and boring kinds of clothes,” Chelsea told her as Janelle held up a dull beige sweater for Chelsea to preview in the mirror. “Even with makeup on, this color makes my face look like death warmed over.”

Janelle laughed. “Perfect.”

“These are just the kinds of things that Kate told me to avoid.”

“See, I’m really good at this.”

They’d just gone into the changing area again when Chelsea got a text from Kate. “She’s got some suggestions,” Chelsea said from her fitting room.

“Such as?” Janelle was right next to her.

“She agrees with my hair direction. She also says you need to get your eyebrows done professionally. She’s going to research some recommendations for you.”

“But that’s permanent.”

Chelsea thought about this. “Yes, but you’ll probably like it. You can make an appointment for right after school on Friday so no one sees it before camp.”

“Okay.”

“And there are some other things. Do you want me to text her back with the green light to go ahead and make your appointments if she finds some places?”

“I guess so. But it’ll all have to be that Friday afternoon.”

“I’ll let her know.”

Finally, with their purchases made, they were riding back home with Chelsea’s dad. “Did you girls have fun shopping?” he asked.

They both chimed out a yes.

“Hopefully it didn’t set me back too much.”

“I actually shopped the clearance rack,” Chelsea told him.

“Really?” He sounded slightly concerned. “Hopefully Kate won’t think she failed you.”

Chelsea laughed. “Just some casual clothes for camp,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

“And that camp happens while Kate and I are still in Hawaii?”

“That’s right.”

“But you’ll make sure I have all the phone numbers and info, right?”

“Yes, Dad.” She rolled her eyes at Janelle.

“Well, you have to admit that it’s a little odd for a father to be leaving his daughter home alone while he goes on his honeymoon.”

“Would you rather take me along with you?”

He chuckled. “No, probably not.”

“We’ll keep a good eye on her,” Janelle assured him.

“I appreciate that.” He sighed. “I can’t believe the big day is just one week away.”

The next week passed in a kind of blur. Between school, drama responsibilities, Dayton’s pressures to commit to a serious dating relationship, preparing for their camp charade, and getting ready for the wedding, Chelsea felt slightly dizzy by Thursday.

“I can’t believe you’re missing homecoming this weekend,” Dayton said for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Who will I dance with on Saturday night?”

Chelsea nodded over to where Riley was sitting with her group of friends. “I can think of a few options.”

“You really want me to do that to you?” Dayton demanded.

She shrugged. “Like I keep telling you, Dayton, I really don’t want to get serious. You’re wasting your time on me.”

He looked disappointed.

“If you want to step aside, there are others who would gladly step in,” Chase said to Dayton.

Dayton gave him a smoldering look.

“Just kidding, man.” Chase held up his hands.

“By the way,” Chelsea said, “good luck at the game tomorrow night.”

“Why are you telling me that now?” Dayton asked.

“Remember? Dad and I are flying out tonight. I won’t be at school tomorrow.”

He shook his head. “Running out on me in my hour of need.”

She smiled sympathetically and patted his hand. As she did, she caught Nicholas giving her a disapproving look. “You’ll do fine without me for a few days.”

“Hey.” Chase pulled one of the fall camp flyers from his pocket. “I almost forgot. Tomorrow’s the deadline for fall camp, Chelsea. Are you signed up yet?”

Chelsea glanced at Janelle.

“As a matter of fact, Chelsea isn’t going,” Janelle told him. “And neither am I.”

“Why not?” Chase frowned.

“We have other plans,” Janelle said nonchalantly.

“But it’s a great camp.” He turned to Chelsea. “It’s the coolest place, down by Monterey.”

“Sorry.” Chelsea held up her hands helplessly.

“We already promised to spend the weekend with my aunt in San Francisco,” Janelle said. “She’s taking us to a musical on Saturday, and then we’ll do shopping and eat at some cool restaurants . . . lots of fun stuff.”

“And I’ve never seen San Francisco,” Chelsea said. At least that was true.

“But camp is fun,” Chase said a bit meekly.

Dayton laughed. “Let’s see, if I had to choose between church camp and a weekend in San Francisco . . . hmm, I don’t know . . .”

“It will be fun,” Lishia insisted. “I’m going.”

“If you say so,” Dayton said in a teasing tone.

“It probably would be fun,” Chelsea said quickly. “Maybe next year.”

“Come on, Chelsea.” Dayton grabbed her by the hand. “Something I want to show you.”

“But I’m not done with—”

“Oh, come on. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

Chelsea didn’t want to go, but she didn’t want to make a fuss. She allowed Dayton to pull her away, but as they were leaving she noticed that Nicholas was still watching . . . and frowning.

As it turned out, Dayton wanted to show her the trophy case where they’d just put the photo of this year’s football team. At least that was what he said he wanted to show her. But once they were there, hidden in the shadowy part of the hallway, he pulled her close to him. “Oh, Chelsea,” he said, his breath coming directly into her face, “can’t you see how crazy you’re making me?”

“Crazy?” His grip felt tight on her arms, so tight it almost hurt.

“Stringing me along like this, playing hard to get . . . Can’t you see it just makes me want you even more?” He moved closer to her. “Please, Chelsea, give me a break,” he whispered. “I want you, girl, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” He leaned toward her like he was about to kiss her, but she turned her head and his lips brushed her cheek.

“Please, Dayton,” she whispered back, “you’re hurting my arms.”

“Fine.” He let her go and she nearly fell backward. “But don’t expect me to keep waiting for you!”

“I don’t, Dayton.” She looked directly into his eyes. “I’ve told you from the start that I could only offer you my friendship.”

His face darkened with anger, then he swore and stormed away. For a moment she felt terrible, like she really was guilty of leading him on, but then she just felt relieved. At least now it would be over.

“Looks like I was right.”

Chelsea turned to see Janelle, her arms folded across her front. “Right about what?”

“Dayton. He turned out to be a jerk, right?”

Chelsea shrugged. “Did you follow us here?”

Janelle shrugged. “Some of your friends were worried.”

“Worried?”

“You know, that Dayton was dragging you off to have his way with you.”

Chelsea laughed. “And they sent Baby Face to defend my honor?”

Janelle laughed too. “I guess so.”

As Chelsea waited for Dad to pick her up after school, she couldn’t help but wonder if Janelle or the others had had reason to be worried when Dayton pulled his macho He-Man routine. What if she had been somewhere with no one else around? The truth was she had felt frightened by him. His anger and frustration had been palpable. Even now, her arms hurt from how hard he’d squeezed, and she suspected he’d left marks. She wondered if he’d ever pulled something like that on Riley. If so, was that why Riley had broken up with him?

Too many questions . . . not enough answers.

Fortunately, Dad arrived, and before long they were so focused on catching their flight and the wedding plans and practicing “Do You Know the Way to San Jose?” and so many other things that she soon forgot about poor Dayton and his unrealistic demands. A few days away from him and everyone and everything else in San Jose would be welcome!