Trouble is a Friend of Mine

‘I can smell the anchovies from up here.’ Mrs Miller sighed dramatically. ‘Every single one has double anchovies on it. Based on that alone, they should have known it was a practical joke. What are we going to do with all those pizzas?’


‘Does she look like an iguana? Yes, she does. Do I find her attractive anyway? Kinda.’ Digby flicked the card Ursula had given him. ‘I think I’m going to call her.’

‘Ursula? You’re kidding,’ I said.

‘No, I see it,’ Henry said. ‘For him, I mean. Not me.’

‘But she’s so … she’s …’ I said.

‘But that’s exactly why, I bet,’ Henry said.

‘Some people say the heart sees what’s invisible to the eye. Other people say love means never having to say you’re sorry,’ Digby said. ‘All I’m saying is, I see potential. I’m not apologizing for that.’

‘Love? Just like that? You’re in love with her now? That’s ridiculous,’ I said.

‘You sound pissed, Princeton. What’s it to you?’ Digby said.

‘Yeah, that was an eight on the tension scale,’ Henry said.

‘It’s disgusting,’ I said. ‘They treated Marina like she was some kind of second-class citizen in her own house. And their awful photos … rich people are just the worst …’

‘Is it all rich people or just these rich people?’ Digby said.

‘Did you see the way she talked to her housekeeper?’ I said. ‘She snapped her fingers at us!’

‘Guess we’ve found another one of your hot-button issues.’ Digby dove back into the pizza box. ‘Last piece … you guys sure you don’t want it?’

‘I can’t believe you ate that entire pizza,’ Henry said.

‘The smell’s making my stomach turn,’ I said.

‘Yeah, I wasn’t sure which one I’d end up with, so I got double anchovies on all ten,’ Digby said.

‘I should’ve guessed that was you,’ I said.

‘You thought ten pizzas just randomly came right when we needed to be alone in her room? See, what you do is order enough so the pizza place will refuse to take the pizzas back but not so many that the person with the credit card will put up a real fight with the delivery guy. When it works, you get privacy and a nice snack,’ Digby said. ‘Interesting fact: the perfect number of pizzas is double the number of cars in the driveway.’

Digby scrolled through Marina’s phone while he preached about his pizza con.

‘Whoa … check this out.’ Digby passed the phone to Henry. ‘Things just got interesting.’





TWENTY-ONE


‘Sloane’s number is in Marina’s call log?’ I said.

‘Henry, call her and ask why,’ Digby said.

‘She won’t answer. She’s doing a campaign thing at the mall for her dad,’ Henry said. ‘We could go see her, but, uh … Zoe, you don’t have to come with us because … because …’

‘Of course, it would be fun if you did,’ Digby said.

Digby got that look on his face and I just knew what was coming next. ‘Don’t do it,’ I said. ‘It’s so tacky …’

‘Meeeee-yow … catfight,’ Digby said.

‘So degrading. For all of us,’ I said. ‘When guys fight, it’s some macho tribal thing, but when girls fight, it’s a big perverted joke. Makes no sense.’

‘Sure it does …’ Digby said. ‘Girls don’t fight. They kinda pull each other’s hair, push each other around a little, then their clothes come off.’

‘Girls don’t know how to fight,’ Henry said. ‘So it’s funny when they try to.’

‘You realize girls have actually killed each other, right?’ I said. ‘Girls in the Bronx smuggle razor blades into school in their cheeks.’

‘Are you smuggling a razor blade in your cheek, Princeton?’ Digby said.

‘What? No.’

‘Then … Meeeee-yow,’ Digby said.

‘Seriously, you don’t have to come,’ Henry said.

‘I’m coming.’ The only fate worse than dealing with Sloane in person was to lose a game of chicken to her when she wasn’t even physically around to play against me.

Walking through the mall, I put all my hopes into ‘maybe she’s gone home already.’ But, no. There she was, just like Henry said she’d be.

Sloane stood out from the dull-suited politico types in a pastel sweater-and-dress outfit that disguised her unfairly perfect boob-y ass-y figure. Her hair was in a little flip behind a pink headband and she was patiently pinning light-up badges on some kids’ lapels.

Digby picked up a flyer. ‘The Bloom family’s auctioning selected watercolors from their collection to replace the children’s hospital ambulance,’ he said. ‘I guess it was stolen … which is weird.’

‘She looks … different.’ I felt crummy hating on her when she was clearly do-gooding.

Digby did not. ‘Puke.’ He balled up the flyer. ‘Sorry, Henry, no offense, but her dad’s going to run for Congress, so this whole thing’s probably some campaign thing.’

When Sloane spotted us, her serene smile dropped and her face tensed into her usual sneer.

‘Ah … there’s the Sloane we know and love,’ Digby said.

Sloane pushed past the kids and stalked over to us. ‘Henry? Why did you bring them here? Didn’t you say you were working this afternoon?’