The words slipped right out. “My math teacher.”
Fanny’s eyebrows shot up. “Couldn’t pick an easier one? He can’t exactly take you to prom.”
“What can I say? I’m still in the feeling stage,” I replied. “I have no control over it.”
She laughed.
“Why can’t it be reversed? Choice first, then the feeling?” I asked.
Fanny shook her head. “Don’t ask me. I don’t understand it.”
I took another sip of water.
“Tell me about your math teacher,” Fanny said.
I grinned. It was automatic. “You’ve met him, actually.”
“Have I?”
I nodded. “He’s the guy who helped fix your leaky pipes and patch that wall for you.”
“Oh my! He’s very cute, Cadence,” she said, her eyes twinkling. She looked like she was up to no good.
I sighed. “I know he’s cute. Very cute. And very smart. And very manly.” I rested my face in my hands, elbows propped on the table. “And very off-limits.”
“Those are always the best love stories,” Fanny replied.
“Which ones?”
She sipped her tea. “The dangerous ones.”
I thought for a moment. “Well, I’m too chicken to try anything, so I don’t think I need to worry about danger,” I replied. “And shouldn’t you be discouraging me or something? I mean, a crush on my math teacher? It’s completely inappropriate.”
“Well, who am I to say what’s appropriate and not?” she replied.
I shook my head in disbelief.
“How old is he?”
“I’ve no idea,” I said. “How is that even relevant? He’s my teacher.”
“Cadence, calm down. I’m not suggesting you start an illicit affair with your math teacher. I’m simply saying that it’s not my business to judge you if you do. Love comes in all kinds of packages. Some are neatly tied up, and some are messy. It doesn’t mean that the messy ones aren’t every bit as good.”
“Good?”
“Yes, good.”
We stared at each other from across the table.
“Of course, it’d make things a whole lot easier if you waited until you graduated,” Fanny said, winking at me.
I grinned. “I’m not waiting for anything because it’s never gonna happen. And you have to promise that you won’t tell my parents.”
“Ha! Why on earth would you think I’d share anything with your parents?” Fanny asked.
“I don’t know. But they keep a tight leash on me. I mean, it’s not as bad as it used to be. But still, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mom called you up to ask about our visit,” I said.
“Well, if she does, what would you like me to say?”
“Just say it was nice.”
Fanny smirked. “Truthful yet completely devoid of details.”
I nodded.
“And when she presses for details?”
I finished off my water. “Tell her it was really nice.”
I had to hand it to Avery. The girl was good. And completely right about our parents. After we spent the night with each other a few times, our parents stopped calling us. The plan worked. I was nervous as hell, though, on the night of our first fake sleepover. Avery planned to stay the night with me (translation: Gavin), and I was a ball of tingling nerves.
“Straighten up!” she screamed on the other end of the line.
“I’m trying,” I replied, pacing my room.
“My parents aren’t going to call, Cadence. It’s perfectly fine.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m not good with deception, Avery.”
“Then start getting good,” she snapped. And then I heard her huff into the phone. “Of all the freaking girls I pick to help me with my freedom plan . . .”
“Hey! Now wait just a minute! I can totally do this.” I didn’t believe a word of it.
“You don’t have to do anything. Just chill out. That’s it,” Avery replied. “I gotta go. I’m at Gavin’s.”
“Tell him I said hello.”
“No.” And then the line went dead.
I hung up and locked myself in my room. I stayed there the entire night except to go to the bathroom. It was ridiculous and childish, but I was afraid. And I continued to feel afraid all weekend until Avery texted me to tell me she was home. It was Saturday night, and she explained all the things we did together when we fake spent the night. Instead of responding via text, I just called her.
“How am I supposed to remember all this shit?” I snapped.
“It’s not even that much. And anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like my mom is gonna ask you tomorrow at church. We don’t even sit near you guys.”
“Well, whatever. I think since you spent the night with me, I should be the one making up the stuff we did so that I can actually remember it.”
Avery giggled. “You know, Cadence, you’re like an American Girl doll.”
“Avery, shut up.”
“No, seriously. Who’s the one with the blond hair? Is it Kristen? Kirsten? What the hell is her name?”
“I’m not an American Girl doll!” I screamed into the phone.
“You are so an American Girl doll, and that’s why I like you so much.”
“Kiss my ass, Avery. I’m not an American Girl doll, and I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”
“What are you talking about? You get the next fake sleepover. You should be totally excited.”
“I’m not because I’ve got nowhere to go and nothing to do!”
“What about your ice cream cone? You were telling me about wanting to go get ice cream.”
“You’re such a bitch.”
Avery burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it; I laughed, too.
“You wanna actually make it a real sleepover? And we can get ice cream together?” Avery asked.
She must have thought I was totally lame. I had no boyfriend to meet up with, no devious agenda, no friends to go somewhere with, like a party. Oh my God. I realized I was an American Girl doll! And I hated it. I freaking hated it.
“You can have the next one,” I said. “I don’t have anything to do. Just go see Gavin again.”
“Cadence? Stop feeling sorry for yourself. We’ll have a real sleepover so you can get out of your house. It’s no big deal. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“And I only think you’re partially an American Girl doll,” Avery continued.