Devon Delaney Should Totally Know Better (15 page)

Neither me nor Mel (who’s on the other side of the room, going through Lexi’s bookshelves, looking for books she wants to borrow), are fazed by this display. We’re used to it. Lexi dances around the gym locker room all the time like this. She just doesn’t care.

“I thought you already had a dress for the dance,” I say, flopping down on her bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“I
thought
I did, but I really need to keep my options open.” She reappears holding a red, strapless short
dress. She slides into it, and smiles at her reflection in the mirror. “Much better.” She does a twirl, then looks at me. “Devi, did you get your dress yet?”

“No,” I say. “I’m too depressed to think about the dance.”

“Stop acting like a drama queen,” Lexi instructs. She twirls in front of the mirror, the dress swishing all around her.

“Yeah,” Mel says. She holds up a book. “I’m taking this one, too, is that okay?”

“Sure,” Lexi says, waving her hand. “Take whatever you want.”

“I’m not being dramatic,” I say. “My dad is having an affair, hello! That is a huge deal.”

“Just because you saw him with some woman in Starbucks?” Mel asks. “No offense, Devon, but you do kind of have an overactive imagination.”

“You forgot about the weird phone call and the
working late.
” What is up with everyone telling me I have an overactive imagination? It’s not
that
bad. I mean, yeah, I have created some secret lives for myself. And one time last year when this woman asked me to watch her computer while she ran to the bathroom at the library, I did get all nervous thinking maybe she was some kind of spy and the computer
was a bomb. But seeing your dad with another woman? That is pretty much something that you cannot misinterpret.

“Hey,” I say to Lexi, suddenly remembering. “Where were you in mock trial yesterday?”

A look of guilt passes over Lexi’s face, and she and Mel exchange a look. “What?” I ask. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Um, well,” Lexi says. She turns away from the mirror and twists her hands nervously. Suddenly Mel gets very busy arranging all the books she’s going to be borrowing into a pile. “The thing is, mock trial isn’t really for me.”

“You’re quitting? But Lexi, you should have an extracurricular.” I don’t really mean that. About the extracurricular thing. Yeah, she should have one, I guess, but I don’t really care if she does. What I do care about is her staying in mock trial with me, so I’m not left alone with Bailey and Kim.

“I do,” she says.

“You do what?” I’m confused.

“I do have an extracurricular.” Her eyes flash to Mel, who’s still busy arranging. And not looking at me. Lexi clears her throat, and then says finally, “I joined radio.”

“You
what
?”

“I joined radio,” she says. She walks over to her dresser, where she pulls out a pair of red patterned tights and pulls them on. Then she takes a pair of shoes off the shoe rack over the back of her closet door and slides into them. “Oh, Devi, please don’t be mad. I just couldn’t take another day of Mr. Ikwang going on and on about the Constitution and juries.”

She couldn’t take another day? She was only in mock trial for one day. Sigh. Although I know what she means. I don’t like mock trial, and my experience with things that you don’t like right away is that they don’t usually get better.

“I’m not mad,” I say.

“You can still join, you know,” Mel says. She abandons the books and comes to sit next to me on the bed. “There’s still room in radio.”

“Ooh, yes, Devi, you totally have to! We’re going to do a school advice show, and it’s going to be airing in the mornings and maybe even during lunch.” She pulls a skirt out of her closet and throws it on the floor. “Ugh, what is
that
doing in there?”

“You’re getting rid of this?” Mel asks, picking it up. It’s long and pale green, with a silver overlay and beading.

“It’s like three seasons ago,” Lexi says. “You can have it if you want.”

“I wouldn’t have anywhere to wear it,” Mel says, running her fingers over the beads.

“Um, hello? The dance,” I remind her.

“Not going,” Mel says.

“You’re not going to ask Dylan?” I ask. Not that I’m surprised. I figured she wouldn’t. It’s just not her style.

“What?!” Lexi yells. “Mel, this is ridiculous.” She turns to me. “You should see them in radio. They are soo cute together.”

“They are?”

“Yeah, like he’s always asking her advice, and he’s always coming up with dumb excuses to talk to her, like asking her for paper and stuff. That’s totally what Jared used to do with me before he asked me out.”

A lump rises up in my throat. I’m sad Lexi’s the one who gets to see Mel interact with Dylan. I’m not jealous of them being friends. In fact, I
want
them to be friends, since Mel was my best friend since forever, and Lexi was my friend this summer, and I love the fact that they actually get along now even though they’re so different. But I’m sad that I’m not getting to see this part of Mel’s life. And then I think about
how if she goes away to private school, I’m not going to be able to see
any
part of her life, and I start to feel even sadder.

I mean, here I am, wasting valuable Mel time with mock trial! I throw myself across the bed and feel sorry for myself.

“Call him,” Lexi demands. She picks Mel’s cell up off the bed and hands it to her. “Now.”

“She can’t just call him,” I say, worried in spite of myself. “She doesn’t have his number.”

“Yes, she does,” Lexi says, her eyes gleaming. “He gave it to her yesterday. He said it was for when they need to start talking about programming the station, but that was totally just an excuse.” She rolls her eyes, then disappears back into her closet. “What do we think about stripes with prints?” she asks, appearing with a weird-looking dress.

“No,” I say.

“I’m going to do it!” Mel says suddenly. Lexi and I look at her, shocked.

“You are?”

“Yes!” she declares. “I’m going to do it.” She reaches over, picks up her cell phone, and scrolls through until she finds his number. She pushes the green button before she can stop herself. Ohmigod,

ohmigod, ohmigod.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask. Mel looks a little pale, like she might throw up.

“Too late now,” Lexi says cheerfully. “She’s already dialed. If she hangs up, he’ll know she’s pranking him.”

“Maybe he won’t answer,” I offer to Mel hopefully. But it doesn’t do anything to help the sick look on her face, and she reaches out and grabs my hand. Ow. Mel’s got a killer grip. I can hear the ringing through her phone. One ring, two rings, three rings . . . just when I’m certain it’s about to go to voice mail, a male voice answers. A very deep male voice. Wow. Mel’s
definitely
going after an eighth grader.

“Hello?” the deep male voice says.

“Hello?” Mel squeaks. Her grip on my hand tightens.

“Ow!” I say.

“Hello?” the voice says again. Mel’s silent. She’s moving her mouth but nothing’s coming out. It’s like something you’d see in a movie, and you’d go,
Oh, that would never happen in real life, that girl is freaking out over nothing
, but it
is
happening in real life, right here in Lexi’s bedroom.

I reach over and give Mel a pinch on her shoulder. But she still can’t talk.

“Uh, hello,” I say, leaning over and speaking into
the phone. “It’s me, Mel.” Mel’s eyes grow large, and Lexi stifles a giggle. Ohmigod. Now I am pretending to be Mel. He’s definitely going to know. I mean, we sound nothing alike. Do we? What does Mel’s voice sound like? Softer than mine. Kind of . . . breathy.

“Oh, hey, Mel,” Dylan says. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” I say, trying to sound quiet and breathy.

“Are you okay?” he asks, sounding confused. “Are you wheezing?”

“Uh, no,” I say, ditching the breathy and resorting to just sounding a little soft. “I think I’m getting a cold.”

“That sucks,” he says. “I think something’s going around.”

“Yeah.” I look at Mel, but she’s still frozen. And now I’m talking to her crush about being sick, which is definitely not how the conversation was supposed to go. I mean, who wants to be equated with germs and runny roses? “Um, anyway, I was calling to ask you a question.”

Mel looks over at me, and nods.

“Um, well, I wanted to know—”

But before I can get the question out, Mel somehow gets a hold of herself and breaks in. “I was wondering
if you’d like to go to the dance with me this weekend.”

There’s a pause where it seems like everything stops. And even though it can’t be more than a second, I think it’s the anticipation of waiting for Dylan’s response coupled with the surprise that Mel took over the phone call that makes it seem like it’s years. And then, finally, through the phone, I hear him say, “I’d love to.”

“Okay,” Mel says. “Cool. So, um, I’ll see you in school tomorrow and we can make plans then, okay, thanks, bye!” She hangs up the phone and looks at me in shock. Okay, not the smoothest way to end the call, but still. Much better than pranking and/or freezing up.

There’s a moment of silence, and then we all start screaming.

When I get home from Lexi’s, my dad’s in the kitchen, whistling and making a pot of chili at the stove.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Turkey chili,” he says cheerfully. He holds the spoon out and I take some. It’s warm and a little spicy, just the way I like it.

“Delish,” I say. “But, um, why isn’t Mom cooking?”

“Do I really have to answer that question?” he asks. He says it like it’s funny, and under normal circumstances, it would be, but not when you’re having an affair. You shouldn’t make fun of your wife’s cooking then. It’s like rubbing salt in the wound. Of course, my dad doesn’t know that I know about him and his little mystery woman, but still.

“So, Dad,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “You had to work late the other day, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, adding a little more chili powder to the chili.

“What were you working on so late?” I ask. I get up and wander toward the refrigerator to pour myself a glass of lemonade. But I’m watching him out of the corner of my eye, and I don’t think it’s my imagination that a look of guilt passes across his face. Aha!

“Just work stuff,” he says. “Boring, actually.” He wipes his hand on the kitchen towel that’s slung over his shoulder.

“I like boring.” I sit back down at the table and take a long sip of my drink. “In fact, I was thinking about having you come in for career day, and I’d like to hear more about what you do.”

“You would, huh?” he says. He sounds like maybe
he doesn’t believe me. Good. I hope he knows I’m on to him. I hope he knows that maybe just maybe I saw him at the coffee shop that day, and that there’s no way I’m letting him get away with this. He pulls a chair out across the table from me and sits down. “I think I know what this has to do with.”

“You do?” He does?

“Yes.” He looks at me. Oh, God. My dad is about to confess that he’s having an affair. “You’re upset because I wasn’t here to meet Luke.”

“Oh.” Pfffttt. I feel like a balloon that’s just had all its air let out. “No. I mean, yeah, I wish you could have met him, but you’ll meet him another time I’m sure.”

Honestly, it probably would have been weirder if my dad were here when Luke came to dinner. First, because he probably would have tried to get all fatherly on me and ask Luke a bazillion questions. And second, because I wouldn’t have been able to tell Luke about what was going on with my dad. And it felt nice to let that out.

“I will definitely meet him another time.” He pats my shoulder and then returns to the stove. “Maybe on the night of the dance. Your mother has a whole thing planned, with pictures, the works.”

“She does?” Wow. It didn’t take long for my mom to get on board the dance train. Although I doubt she’s going to let me pre- and post-party at Lexi’s. I wonder if she’s on board the new dress train, too.

“Anyway,” my dad says, turning down the stove. “I’m gonna just let this simmer for a bit, and it’ll be ready for when I get back around dinnertime.”

“Where are you going?” I ask suspiciously.

“The gym,” my dad says, and my stomach drops to my shoes.

I call Luke because I don’t know what else to do.

“Hey,” he says when he answers. “I was just thinking about you.”

“My dad’s at the gym,” I blurt. “O-kaay.” He sounds confused.

“I was at Lexi’s, and we printed out this list and it said that the gym is a VERY BAD SIGN.”

“Devon,” Luke says. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Keep it down in there!” Katie calls from the living room. “
Hardball with Chris Matthews
is starting on MSNBC!”

Actually, I
should
probably keep it down. Don’t want my mom or Katie overhearing me.

“Okay,” I say, whispering. “I was at Lexi’s earlier,
right? Just trying on clothes and Mel asked Dylan to the dance, and then we went on her computer.”

“What?” Luke says. “I can’t hear you.”

“I was at Lexi’s.” I try to raise my voice a little bit, and stretch the phone as far as it will go into the kitchen, away from Katie. Why oh why do we not have a cordless phone in here? Better yet, why am I not on my cell phone? I consider switching over, but then decide it would be too much effort to go and call Luke back, so I just cover the mouthpiece with my hand and hope for the best.