Read Online How to Meet Boys by Catherine Clark - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Catherine Clark
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home from my dad, who took us out for a midnight breakfast before letting us crash at his house in a pile of sleeping bags on the living room floor. Ava called the night “epic” so many times that we couldn’t stop naming all the things that had been epic about it, like: the awkward way her date danced, the fact three girls were wearing the same exact dress, the pancakes and bacon. All of it was epic, which didn’t leave much room for improvement for our senior prom.
“Yeah, we did have a great time—still, it would have been nice to go with a guy, too. I mean, how can it be that my parents, who should be too old for stuff like this, can totally find people to fall in love with and get married to, when I can’t even have one decent prom date? Is that fair?” I asked Claire.
“It’s messed up is what it is,” she said. “I can’t believe your parents are both getting married.”
“Neither can I,” I said. “If only my mom didn’t talk about her wedding all the time, maybe I could not think about it for a day or two.” Earlier that afternoon she’d called to make sure she had my shoe size right because she was going to get a pair of satin pumps dyed for my maid of honor duties—which was crazy, because I didn’t even have a dress yet that she could match them to. At least, not that I knew of.
My mom is a perfectionist. When she has a plan in mind—like coordinating an outfit, or a wedding—she obsesses over it, and everything has to be about that plan. Like now, with her wedding to Gary, who she met because they’re both real estate agents at the same office. They want to sell houses together as a team once they get married: Kerri and Gary. Spouses who sell houses. Sometimes I felt like Mom only wanted to marry Gary because it would look good on their business cards.
Even if Gary is a nice guy, there’s something about the born salesman thing that comes to my mind whenever he’s talking to me. “It’ll be great, this’ll be great. Tell you what we’re gonna do, Lucy. We’re gonna give you fifteen percent off breakfast. And we’re gonna throw in clean towels!”
I wasn’t going to say anything to Claire or anyone else about it, but I didn’t feel ready for Mom and Gary to get married. They’d only been together seven months or so. They were rushing. Part of me wondered if Mom was in such a hurry because Dad was getting remarried at the same time, and she wanted to show him up. The fact they were still so competitive about things after being apart for two years said a lot to me: one, no wonder they couldn’t stay married; two, they each cared what the other was up to—more than a little.
I think Mom wanted to have the “better” wedding, while Dad and his fiancée, Margaret, didn’t care. They wanted to be married soon, because she had a couple of younger kids, Charlie and Rosie, and her first husband had been killed in a helicopter crash while fighting in Afghanistan. Dad was ready to be an official stepdad to them, and I was happy to share him. I was really looking forward to having those cute little guys as stepsiblings—I hoped they’d eventually consider me their sister, because I’d always kind of wanted to be a big sister. It was messy, and too bad it had to happen this way, but maybe something really good would come out of having two families.
I heard the front door open and turned around to see Mikayla walk into the house. “Hey!” I greeted her. “How was the coffee shop?”
“It was . . . good.” Mikayla wandered closer, kind of staring off into the distance, a dreamy expression on her face.
“Mikayla?” I prompted. “You still with us?”
“Oh—yeah. Sorry.” She collapsed into one of our folding chairs and sighed. “I have to tell you. I met someone there. Someone, like, that I already have a serious crush on.”
“You met him?” I asked. “Like, you actually talked to him?”
She nodded. “I did . I mean, it started out kind of awkward—like
“Yeah, we did have a great time—still, it would have been nice to go with a guy, too. I mean, how can it be that my parents, who should be too old for stuff like this, can totally find people to fall in love with and get married to, when I can’t even have one decent prom date? Is that fair?” I asked Claire.
“It’s messed up is what it is,” she said. “I can’t believe your parents are both getting married.”
“Neither can I,” I said. “If only my mom didn’t talk about her wedding all the time, maybe I could not think about it for a day or two.” Earlier that afternoon she’d called to make sure she had my shoe size right because she was going to get a pair of satin pumps dyed for my maid of honor duties—which was crazy, because I didn’t even have a dress yet that she could match them to. At least, not that I knew of.
My mom is a perfectionist. When she has a plan in mind—like coordinating an outfit, or a wedding—she obsesses over it, and everything has to be about that plan. Like now, with her wedding to Gary, who she met because they’re both real estate agents at the same office. They want to sell houses together as a team once they get married: Kerri and Gary. Spouses who sell houses. Sometimes I felt like Mom only wanted to marry Gary because it would look good on their business cards.
Even if Gary is a nice guy, there’s something about the born salesman thing that comes to my mind whenever he’s talking to me. “It’ll be great, this’ll be great. Tell you what we’re gonna do, Lucy. We’re gonna give you fifteen percent off breakfast. And we’re gonna throw in clean towels!”
I wasn’t going to say anything to Claire or anyone else about it, but I didn’t feel ready for Mom and Gary to get married. They’d only been together seven months or so. They were rushing. Part of me wondered if Mom was in such a hurry because Dad was getting remarried at the same time, and she wanted to show him up. The fact they were still so competitive about things after being apart for two years said a lot to me: one, no wonder they couldn’t stay married; two, they each cared what the other was up to—more than a little.
I think Mom wanted to have the “better” wedding, while Dad and his fiancée, Margaret, didn’t care. They wanted to be married soon, because she had a couple of younger kids, Charlie and Rosie, and her first husband had been killed in a helicopter crash while fighting in Afghanistan. Dad was ready to be an official stepdad to them, and I was happy to share him. I was really looking forward to having those cute little guys as stepsiblings—I hoped they’d eventually consider me their sister, because I’d always kind of wanted to be a big sister. It was messy, and too bad it had to happen this way, but maybe something really good would come out of having two families.
I heard the front door open and turned around to see Mikayla walk into the house. “Hey!” I greeted her. “How was the coffee shop?”
“It was . . . good.” Mikayla wandered closer, kind of staring off into the distance, a dreamy expression on her face.
“Mikayla?” I prompted. “You still with us?”
“Oh—yeah. Sorry.” She collapsed into one of our folding chairs and sighed. “I have to tell you. I met someone there. Someone, like, that I already have a serious crush on.”
“You met him?” I asked. “Like, you actually talked to him?”
She nodded. “I did . I mean, it started out kind of awkward—like
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