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“Right,” I said. “Organize by class. Okay.”
I was quite aware of how moronic I sounded with my less-than-eloquent replies, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. I mean, just because my voice actually worked didn’t necessarily mean I could use it well in his presence. I’d been crushing on Toby for three years, so to say he made me nervous would be a massive understatement.
Lucky for me, Toby didn’t seem to notice. As we sorted the various gifts into groups, he even offered up some polite small talk. Slowly, I found myself easing into a semi-comfortable chat with Toby Tucker. A Valentine’s Day miracle! Well, miracle was too strong a word—a miracle would have been him sweeping me into his arms and laying one on me right there. So maybe this was more like a Valentine’s Day benefit. Either way, my awkward, idiotic dialogue began to ebb away. Thank God.
“Wow, there’s a lot here for Vikki McPhee,” he said, placing a box of candy on top of a steadily growing pile. “Does she have six boyfriends?”
“I only know about three,” I said. “But she doesn’t tell me everything.”
Toby shook his head. “Jeez.” He picked up a card and began to check the label. “So what about you? Any Valentine’s Day plans?”
“Nope.”
He put the card in one of the piles. “Not even a date with the boyfriend?”
“That would require me having a boyfriend,” I said. “Which I don’t.” Not wanting him to start feeling sorry for me, I added, “But even if I did, I wouldn’t be doing anything special. Valentine’s Day is a stupid, pathetic excuse for a holiday.”
“You really think so?” he asked.
“Of course. I mean, there is a reason its initials are VD. I bet you more people contract syphilis on Valentine’s Day than on any other day of the year. What a cause for celebration.”
We laughed together, and for a minute it felt kind of natural.
“And you?” I asked. “Do you have plans with your girlfriend?”
“Well, we did,” he said and sighed. “But we broke up on Saturday, so those plans are now dead.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
But I wasn’t. Inside, I felt kind of ecstatic and overjoyed. God, I was such a freaking bitch.
“Me, too.” There was a momentary pause on the verge of being awkward, and then he said, “I think we have all of these sorted. Are you ready to start delivering?”
“I’m ready, but not very willing.” I pointed to a large vase of assorted flowers. “Look at this. I would wager money that some girl sent this to herself so that she’d look good in front of her friends. How sad is that?”
“You’re telling me you wouldn’t do it?” Toby asked, a tiny smirk spreading across his boyish face.
“Never,” I said flatly. “Who cares what others think of me? So what if I don’t get a present on Valentine’s Day? It’s just vanity. Who do I need to impress?”
“I don’t know. I think Valentine’s Day is more about feeling special,” he said, plucking a flower from the large vase. “I think every girl deserves to feel special once in a while. Even you, Bianca.” He reached over and tucked the flower’s stem behind my ear.
I tried to convince myself that this was completely cheesy and ridiculous. That if any other guy—Wesley for example—had tried a line like that, I might have slapped him or just laughed in his face. But I felt my face turn pink as his fingers brushed past my cheek. This wasn’t any other guy, after all. It was Toby Tucker. Perfect, amazing, dreamy Toby Tucker.
Maybe Valentine’s Day could be Duff-friendly after all.
“Come on,” he said. “Grab that pile and we’ll start passing these out.”
“Uh… okay.”
We might have been done delivering by the end of first block, but the secretary kept bringing more and more packages to the little vomit-colored table. It became very clear to Toby and me that we’d be working until at least lunch.
Not that I minded spending the morning with Toby Tucker.
“I don’t want to jinx it,” he said as we returned to the table, only five minutes before the lunch bell. “But I think we might actually be done.”
We reached the empty table and exchanged smiles, though mine was halfhearted. “That’s it,” I said. “That was the last of them.”
“Yep.” Toby leaned against the table. “You know, I’m glad they forced you to help. I would have been bored out of my mind if I’d done this by myself. It was fun talking to you.”
“I had fun, too,” I said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic.
“Listen,” he said. “You shouldn’t sit in the back of the room in AP government. Why don’t you take one of the desks behind Jeanine and me? There’s no reason for you to be alone back there. I think you should join us—the nerds in the front of the room.”
“I might.” And, obviously, I knew I would. How could I refuse such a request from Toby Tucker?
“Bianca Piper?” The secretary rounded the corner and approached us. There were no flowers or candy boxes in her hands this time. “Bianca, there’s someone here to sign you out.”
“Oh,” I said. “Um, okay.” Weird. I had a car. There was no reason for me to be checked out.
“See you later, Bianca,” Toby called as I followed the secretary toward the front desk. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
I waved just before turning the corner, trying to remember whether or not I had a doctor’s appointment that day or something. Why was I being checked out of school? But before my mind could invent any family tragedies, the answer hit me like a ton of bricks, and I stopped dead in my tracks.
Oh. My. God.
She stood at the front desk, looking like she’d just stepped off a soundstage somewhere in Hollywood. Her blond hair, lightened by the sun, fell around her shoulders in gentle, perfect waves. She wore a knee-length teal dress (without panty hose, of course) and high high heels. Dark sunglasses covered her eyes—eyes that I knew were green. She lifted the sunglasses as she turned to face me.
“Hi, Bianca,” the beautiful woman said.
“Hi, Mom.”
14
I could tell she was nervous by the way she stepped toward me. She looked shaky, and her eyes were wide with, from what I could guess, fear. For good reason, too. Unlike my father, I knew she’d meant to send those divorce papers, and I hated her for it. For not warning either of us. So I shot her a warning glare and moved away when she approached me. This must have confirmed her worries, because her glance sank to the floor and she focused on the toe of her stiletto.
“I’ve missed you, Bianca,” my mother said.
“Sure you have.”
“Did you finish signing her out, Mrs. Piper?” the secretary asked, returning to her chair behind the tall desk.
“Yes, I did,” Mom said. Her voice found its smooth, natural tone again. “So are we free to go, warden?”
“You’re released,” the secretary laughed. She fluffed her hair and added, “And I wanted you to know, I bought a copy of your book. It has been such a lifesaver for me. I read it once a month.”
Mom smiled. “Oh, thank you! Glad to meet one of the ten people who’ve actually read it.”
The secretary beamed at her. “It changed my life.”
I rolled my eyes.
Everyone loved my mother. She was fu
“Where exactly are we going?” I didn’t bother to shield her from my bitterness. She deserved it.
“Um… I don’t know,” Mom admitted. Her heels clacked on the smooth pavement as she walked. The sound stopped when we reached her car, a red Mustang that looked like it had been lived in for a few days. It wasn’t hard to tell she’d driven here all the way from Orange County. “Somewhere with heat?” She was trying to sound perky. “I’m freezing my booty off.”