She probably thinks that by trashing Mac, she’ll make me feel better, but the truth is, pointing out how I lost to a poseur just makes it worse.
I hit the bend in the walk that leads to my drive, escape finally within reach, when she tugs hard on my sleeve. “Don’t you think you should change?” She uncurls a bony finger to point at my Greentree hoodie, but I have no idea what she’s talking about. “The Christmas sweater. The one your mom made you wear. I saw you shove it into your backpack just before school. You should put it back on before she sees.”
She says it so openly. Like she’s not the least bit embarrassed to admit she was watching me without my consent.
Still, there’s no doubt she’s right. My mom would be really hurt if she ever found out I was so embarrassed by the sweater she knit, I hid it in my backpack.*
For once, Plum’s obsession with me did me some good.
I yank the sweater over my hoodie, which makes it look a little bulky and strange, but I’m in a hurry to get away from Plum, and my mom will be so happy to see me wearing it, she won’t even notice the lumps. As soon as the sweater’s in place and I’m more or less situated, I try to leave again, but Plum steps before me, wearing this weird expression (weirder than usual), and then she shoves a red-and-green box into my chest.
“Happy birthday!” she cries, her face turning so red I’m tempted to run away and never look back.
“Today’s not my birthday,” I tell her, trying to keep from frowning as I push the box away. I don’t want to be rude, but there’s no way I’m accepting that. It’s like the final insult on a complete failure of a day.
Had things gone as I’d fully imagined, Tinsley would be standing here instead.
But Plum refuses to take it, even going so far as to bend my fingers around it. “Your birthday’s on Christmas, I know.” She smiles brightly, too brightly, as though she refuses to acknowledge how desperate I am to be rid of her. “I just thought I should give it to you now.” She tucks a chunk of blond hair, the color of a bowl of soggy Cheerios, behind her ears, but the curls won’t be tamed and spring right back again. “I know how sometimes your birthday gets overshadowed by all the holiday stuff, and I wanted you to know I didn’t forget.” Her voice is shaky, her face wild and flushed. It’s the same look I’ve seen during the backstage meet and greets on the Josh Frost show. The look every girl who goes before him gets when she imagines the day they’ll be married with little Frost babies of their own and time can’t move quickly enough.
I turn away, eager to put this whole mess behind me. But of course she insists on following me all the way to the top of my drive. “I made it especially for you,” she says, as though it adds some kind of value, when the truth is, I’m not the least bit curious as to what waits inside. “You don’t have to open it now, of course. But don’t wait too long. It won’t last forever.”
“Got it,” I say, hoping this is it and she’ll finally move on. I mean, how much longer does she plan on beating this horse?
“I even made the candle.”
I close my eyes, imagining myself as the stallion she insists on whipping long past the moment I’ve heaved my last breath.
“It was really fun to make. Oh, and there’s a small box of matches too, so don’t forget to make a wish. And make sure it’s a good one. There’s power in a wish—don’t waste it on the mundane.”
I frown in a way that takes over my face and make no attempt to hide it.
If wishes came true, I wouldn’t be standing here now.
I’d be in a limo with Josh on one side and Tinsley on the other, speeding down the highway toward fortune and fame.
Plum’s lips start to spasm as her eyes go all squinty and tight. But even though I’m sure it’s my fault, I’m already feeling crummy enough. I don’t have room for Plum’s crummy stuff too.
“Hope you have a good birthday,” she calls as I race for my door, desperate to be rid of her. “And remember, choose your wish carefully—sometimes they really do come true!”
* * *
* Mom, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry I had to include this part. I was only trying to give an honest account of how I felt then. Clearly I don’t feel that way now. Please keep that in mind as you continue to read. Also, I’m sorry that because of my decision to accept a ride from a crazy person, the sweater you knit will end up spending the rest of eternity in an evidence locker.
2:43 P.M.—4:41 P.M.
TINSEL MADNESS
After ditching Plum’s gift on the kitchen counter, I head upstairs to my room, where I immediately get started on the First Order of Business, which is to rip the Josh Frost poster from my wall and shred it into tiny, unrecognizable bits.
Not that I actually blame Josh.
Or at least not entirely.
While it’s nice to know he saw my potential, it clearly wasn’t enough to get him to override Ezer. And as much as I once admired him, turns out Josh isn’t the hero I thought.
He let me down.