But that didn’t mean I wasn’t embarrassed about it. Or that I had even the remotest hope of it working.
That’s why I was screaming.
My dad, who’d been watching the interview with a kind of stunned expression on his face, went, “Wait a minute. What was that all about? Samantha . . . did you and David have a fight?”
To which Theresa replied, “Oh, she blew it with him but good. But maybe if he sees this, he’ll give her another chance. I mean, it isn’t every day some girl goes on national television and tells the world that she wants to go out with you.”
Even Rebecca looked at me with renewed respect. “That was pretty brave of you, Sam,” she said. “Braver even than what you did that day outside the cookie store. Not, of course, that it’s going to work.”
“Oh, Rebecca,” Lucy said, hitting the mute button since the interview was over. “Shut up.”
It isn’t often that Lucy comes to my defence in familial battles, so I glanced up from the sofa cushion in amazement. It was only then that I realized what was bothering me about Lucy. What had been bothering me about Lucy for that past day or two.
“Hey,” I said. “Where’s Jack?”
“Oh,” Lucy said, with a careless shrug. “We broke up.”
Everyone in the room—not just me—stared at her in open-mouthed astonishment.
My dad recovered first. He went, “Alleluia,” which was a strange sentiment coming from an agnostic, but whatever.
“I knew it,” Theresa said, shaking her head. “He went back to that ex-girlfriend of his, didn’t he? Men. They are all. . .” And then she said some bad words in Spanish.
“Oh, God,” Lucy said, rolling her eyes. “Puhlease. He didn’t cheat on me, or anything. He was just such a jerk to Sam.”
I would not have thought it possible for my jaw to sag any more than it already had, but somehow, it managed.
“Me?” I squealed. “What are you talking about?”
Lucy looked heavenward. “Oh, you know,” she said, sounding impatient. “That whole painting thing. He was being such a tool. I told him to—what’s it called again, Rebecca?”
“Never again to darken your doorway?” Rebecca offered.
“Yeah,” Lucy said. “That’s it.” Then Lucy, who had been channel-surfing the whole time she’d been speaking, went, “Oooh, look. David Boreanaz,” and turned the volume up.
I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it. Lucy and Jack, broken up? Because of me? I mean, I will admit I had been fantasizing about this moment for months. But in my fantasies, Lucy and Jack always broke up because Jack finally came to his senses and realized that I was the girl for him. They never broke up because Lucy happened to spy Jack being a jerk to me.
And they certainly never broke up after I’d realized I didn’t love Jack any more . . . had maybe never really loved him in the first place. Not the way you’re supposed to love someone.
This was not the way things were supposed to go. This was not the way things were supposed to go at all.
“Lucy,” I said, leaning forward. “How can you ... I mean, after all the time you two have spent together, how can you just dump Jack like that? I mean, what about prom? Your senior prom is coming up. Who are you going to go with, if not Jack?”
“Well,” Lucy said, her gaze riveted on to David Boreanaz’s abs, “I have narrowed it down to about five different guys. But I am thinking of asking my chem partner.”
“Greg Gardner?” I all but shrieked. “You are going to go to the prom with Greg Gardner! Lucy, he is like the biggest nerd in school!”
Lucy looked annoyed, but only because all my shrieking was drowning out the dulcet tones of Mr. Boreanaz. “Dude,” she said, “duh. But nerds are totally in right now. I mean, you should know. You’re the one who started the trend.”
“Trend? What trend? I demanded.
“You know.” A commercial had come on, so Lucy put the TV on mute again, rolled over on her back and looked at me. “The whole dating-a-nerd thing. You set it off by bringing David to that party. Now everyone is doing it. Kris Parks is going out with Tim Haywood.”
“The national science fair winner?” I gasped.
“Yeah. And Debbie Kinley dumped Rodd Muckinfuss for some geek from Horizon.”
“Really.” My mother, who was still in the room, listening to our conversation with growing annoyance, finally couldn’t take it any more. “Listen to you girls! Geeks! Nerds! Don’t you realize that you are talking about people? People with feelings?”
Like my mom, I was getting more and more upset as well. But not for the same reason.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Wait just a minute here. Lucy, you can’t break up with Jack. You love him.”
“Well, sure,” Lucy said, simply. “But you’re my sister. I can’t go out with a guy who’s mean to my sister. I mean, what do you think I am?”
I just stared at her. I really couldn’t believe it. Lucy—my sister Lucy, the prettiest, most vacuous girl at Adams Prep High School—had dumped her boyfriend, and not because he’d been two-timing her, or because she’d grown tired of him. She’d dumped him for me, her reject little sister. Me, Samantha Madison. Not the Samantha Madison who’d saved the life of the President of the United States. Not Samantha Madison, Teen Ambassador to the UN.
No. Samantha Madison, Lucy Madison’s kid sister.
That’s when the guilt came rushing in. I mean, here Lucy had made this enormous sacrifice—OK, maybe not so enormous for her, but whatever, still a sacrifice—and what kind of sister had I been to her? Huh? I mean, for the longest time all I had done was wish—no, pray—for Lucy and Jack to break up so that I could have him. Then it finally happens, and why?
Because, according to Lucy, she loves me more than she could ever love any boy.
I was the worst sister in the world. The lowest of the low. I was scum.
“Lucy,” I said. “Really. Jack was just upset the other day. I totally understood. I really don’t think you should break up with him just because . . . just because of me.”
Lucy looked bored with the conversation. Her show had come back on. “Whatever,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”
“You should, Luce,” I said. “You really should. I mean, Jack’s a great guy. A really great guy. I mean, for you.”
“All right,” Lucy said, looking irritated. “I said I’ll think about it. Now shut up, my show is on.”
My mom, realizing a little belatedly what was going on, went, “Um, Lucy, if you want to date this other boy—your chemistry partner—that’s really quite all right with your father and me. Isn’t it, Richard?”
My dad hastened to assure Lucy that it was.
“In fact,” he said, “why don’t you bring him home after school tomorrow? Theresa won’t mind, will you, Theresa?”
But the damage was already done. I knew Lucy and Jack would be back together before lunch tomorrow.
And I was glad. Really glad.
Because I didn’t love Jack. I had probably never loved Jack. Not really.
The only problem, of course, was that I was pretty sure the person I did love didn’t feel the same way about me . . .
Though I had a good feeling I was going to find out for sure, one way or another, at Susan Boone’s tomorrow.
“Do you see this skull?” Susan Boone held up a cow skull, bleached white by sun and sand. “All the colours of the rainbow are in this skull. And I want to see those colours on the page in front of you.”