Wrong About the Guy

“Well, see, that’s a nice detail,” he said. “Details make an essay come alive. You want this to be less about rescuing the dogs of the world and more about who you are.”

“Okay,” she said, and proved over the next half hour or so to be a far more obedient and tractable student than I was, eagerly suggesting new ideas and word choices whenever he asked her for them.

I stayed at the table with them, aimlessly surfing the net on my own computer. George had told me to edit my essay while he worked with Heather, but I just couldn’t bring myself to look at it again right away.

After they’d been working for about half an hour, the wall monitor beeped that someone was at the front gate and as soon as I hit the intercom, a voice said, “It’s Aaron, let me in!”

I had the front door open by the time his Porsche had scrunched to a stop in front of our house. “This is a surprise!” I said as he got out.

He came bounding up the steps. “I know, right? I was in the neighborhood. Well, not really, but I was in the car and bored, so I drove to the neighborhood to see you.”

“You are brilliant,” I said, and we hugged, and then I pulled him inside. “You have to meet my friend Heather. She’s the best.”

We entered the kitchen and I introduced him to Heather and reminded him who George was. “Right,” Aaron said, nodding at him. “You’re the guy who’s always here doing something.”

“That’s pretty much my job description,” George said.

Aaron turned to Heather. “Word on the street is that you’re the best. Is this true?”

She shook her head, smiling. “No. Not even close.”

“Don’t listen to her,” I said. “She is.”

“I believe you.” Aaron glanced at the table. “Wow. Three laptops. You guys must be doing something important. Should I leave?”

“God, no,” I said. “Those two are working together right now, but I wasn’t doing anything other than thinking about how hungry I am. Want to go on a food run with me?”

“Are you kidding? I fantasize about going on food runs with you.”

“What does everyone want to eat?” I asked.

“Something sweet,” Heather said. “Like cookies.”

“I’m good.” George checked his watch. “How long will you be gone? Will we have time to work more? Early applications are due in two weeks, Ellie.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t aware of that,” I said. “We’ll be back in less than half an hour. Shouldn’t affect my application process all that much.” I whisked Aaron out of the kitchen.

We picked up cupcakes at my favorite place and brought them back to the house. “You should have seen the cashier’s face,” I told George and Heather when we walked back in. “I’d forgotten to bring my wallet—”

“Oldest girl trick in the book,” Aaron put in. He fluttered his hand to his chest. “Oh, my goodness gracious me! I seem to have forgotten mah li’l ol’ purse! I guess you’ll just have to pay, you sweet, gullible young man, you!”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I sounded just like that. Anyway, Aaron pulled out his credit card and the girl at the counter looks at it and goes, ‘Wait, are you related to Michael Marquand?’ And he says, ‘Yeah, he’s my dad and he really loves your cupcakes.’ And she gets incredibly excited and says, ‘We have some new flavors you have to take for him to try’ and starts loading them into the bag. So now we have all of these!” I held up the bag. “There’s like twenty cupcakes in here. And she wouldn’t let us pay for them.”

“In retrospect, I probably should have tipped her,” Aaron said.

“Are you kidding?” I said. “You made her day. She’ll be talking for years about how Michael Marquand’s son bought her cupcakes.”

“And flirted with her,” Aaron said. “Don’t forget that I flirted with her. I’d say at least four of the freebies are flirtation cupcakes. The rest are celebrity perk cupcakes.” He pulled some out of the bag and lined them up on the counter.

“That is so cool,” Heather said. “Did you get any red velvet?”

“Sorry,” Aaron said. “That’s not a new flavor. We have one called a caramel crunch wizard, though.”

“Blizzard,” I corrected him.

“How does that make sense?”

“It’s white on top. How does wizard make sense?”

“Wizards usually have white hair,” Heather pointed out.

“There you go!” Aaron crowed. “Nice save! You are the best.”

She curtsied and giggled.

I glanced over at George. “Now you’re the one being quiet.”

“I’m tired. It’s been a long afternoon. But a productive one,” he added with a quick smile in Heather’s direction.

“Have a cupcake,” I said as I tossed one toward him.

He wasn’t ready and the cupcake just splooshed frosting against his fingers and landed on the floor. “Jesus, Ellie! Next time, give me a warning.”

“Next time, catch it.” I went over to the paper towel dispenser on the counter.

“You try to catch something covered in frosting.”

“Like this?” Aaron said, picking up three cupcakes and neatly juggling them. Somehow he managed to keep grabbing them by the bottoms, not the frosted tops.

“Whoa!” Heather said. “That’s so good. I tried to teach myself to juggle but I didn’t get very far.”

“Your mistake was not ignoring everything else in your life in order to master the skill,” Aaron said, focusing intently on the cupcakes circling in front of his face. “I didn’t do anything for three months except this. I failed two courses and got kicked off the swim team. But I could juggle three sharp knives and only get cut a little bit. Look, I can even do this . . .” He took a step forward and then back without missing a beat. “And this . . .” He tossed one behind his back. It sailed over his head, but then he bobbled it on the descent, lost his rhythm, and all three cupcakes came tumbling down at his feet. He gazed forlornly at the mess. “And thus endeth the juggling. I hope no one was interested in the peanut butter one.” He poked gently at one of the cupcakes with the tip of his shoe. “Or the coconut one. Or whatever that orangey one is.”

I picked up the cupcakes, threw them away, and knelt down to wipe the floor with another paper towel. “You know, you could help,” I said, looking up at him.

“Some people make the mess; some clean it. And never the twain shall meet.”

“Hey,” I said to George as I stood back up. “How’s this for a new essay? I could write about how Americans waste too much food and we should all grow consciences about that.” I tossed the paper towel in the trash.

“And once again your sincerity would shine through.” George closed his laptop. “I’ve got to go. Tell your mom I’m going to pick up those bins she needs, will you? I’ll be back tomorrow to see if they work.”

“See?” Aaron said to me in a stage whisper. “He’s always here.”

George said, “I know. I need a real job. Trust me, I’m trying.” Then he said good-bye and headed out.

I felt a little bad, although I wasn’t sure exactly why, so I ran after him. “Thanks for the essay help,” I said, holding the front door open for him. “Heather and I both needed it.”

“You’re welcome,” he said and left.

eighteen

Riley and I were finishing up lunch at one of the courtyard tables at school the next week, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I swiveled. Aria

“Of course not!” I tried to sound more enthusiastic than I felt. “There’s always room at the i

She sat next to me on the bench, and took the lid off her container, which turned out to be a salad. She then started to carefully remove bits of onion one by one with a single tine of her fork and deposit them on her napkin. “I was going to sit with my usuals, when I saw you guys and thought it would be a good chance to talk about the gift drive, and also just hang out! People totally get stuck in same-friend ruts, you know? I think we should all reach out more. I talked to Mr. Bergeron about doing a ‘new friends’ day where everyone would have to sit with someone new—like randomly assigned or something—and he loved the idea and is talking to Dr. Gardiner about it. So anyway, about the gift drive? I’ve been thinking about the posters. I was just going to do a stencil letter kind of thing—but, like, in bright colors and really artistic—only then I had this brilliant thought. At least, I think it’s brilliant. You have to tell me if I’m right.”