“No, but feel free to say it often.”
“How about I ditch this freaking contest and say it to you in person? Singing is fun but not worth all the other stuff — photographers, interviews, gossip. I’d rather be there with you.”
“And I’d rather have you here.” I sent my soft words across invisible lines from my heart to his. I imagined Eli, not as I just saw him on TV with makeup and gelled hair, but the way he looked last time we were together — in casual jeans, with his unruly hair falling across his eyes as he leaned close to me.
“If I catch a flight tonight, I can be there before tomorrow. I’m not cut out for this lifestyle — hotels and interviews and wearing clothes picked out by strangers.”
“You’re not cut out to be a quitter, either. If you leave now, you’ll regret it.”
“Yeah,” he said after a long pause. “I would.”
“So do your singing thing and don’t worry about anyone else.”
“I really needed to hear that — thanks, Amber. It’s cool how you don’t freak out over dumb stuff like what happened on TV. The girl my brother was dating last year dumped him just because he gave a golf lesson to another girl.”
From what I knew about Chad, I suspected he deserved to be dumped. He had a history of cheating on his girlfriends — which I’d found out personally when I’d been in the body of one of them. But I liked Eli saying I was cool, so I pushed all negativity aside.
“Trust is really important,” I told him. “Relationships can’t survive without it.”
“Yeah. Trust is, like, huge. It’s cool we’ve got so much between us.”
I started to reply, then heard a beep. “Oh, I’ve got an incoming call … it’s Dustin! I was afraid he wouldn’t call in time.”
“In time for what?” Eli asked curiously.
“Dustin set up a date for Alyce.”
“But you’re Alyce.”
“Exactly. I’m so glad you’re not the jealous type or this could get really awkward.”
“I’m not … um … who are you going out with? You won’t actually do any—”
“I’ll tell you all about it later. I really miss you, Eli. Bye!”
I clicked off and switched over to Dustin.
Then I sucked in a nervous breath.
And asked about my date.
10
“I would have called sooner but I couldn’t get a signal inside the dumpster,” Dustin said in a distracted tone, electronic noises buzzing in the background as if he was doing at least three other things simultaneously.
“So the protest didn’t go well?” I teased.
“Au contraire, it went brilliantly! I just opted to skip the whole arrest-and-bail scene with a quick maneuver into a dumpster. Once the cops were gone, I zipped back to Headquarters and found a message from Zachary.”
“Did he back out of our date?” A girl could hope, right?
“No. It’s on for tonight.”
“Oh.” Hopes dashed.
“Zachary will meet you at 7:30 at the Neon Green Gallery.”
“Isn’t that the green cone-shaped building downtown?”
“Great spot, huh? Turns out Zachary likes surrealist art — and that’s not all he likes. I think he has a secret crush on Alyce. When I suggested a date, he not only knew who she was, but said he’d been in an art class with her. He raved about her acrylic gothic paintings.”
“Really? She never mentioned him to me.”
“Do you expect her to tell you everything?”
“Well … yeah. I tell her everything.”
“I doubt there was anything for her to tell,” Dustin said. “It didn’t sound like Zachary ever admitted his feelings to Alyce. He was surprised, then excited when I hinted that Alyce might want to go out with him.”
“I’ve got to hand it to you. This matchmaking stuff could actually work out.”
“Did you ever doubt the accuracy of my computer?”
I nearly reminded him that his computer also tried matching Alyce up with a girl, but I appreciated all he’d done for me, so I thanked him. I was relieved that my date wasn’t going to happen at some cozy romantic restaurant or theater. Going to a gallery would be more relaxed. I’d heard that the Neon Green Gallery showed avant-garde works by local artists. Not my taste, but so very “Alyce.” Maybe there was more to Zachary than good grades and an uptight attitude. The art show could turn out to be very interesting.
It also turned out to be near the downtown arena, where a mega concert had jammed the streets with pedestrians and traffic. I couldn’t find a parking place near the gallery, so I ended up parking about a mile away. And walking in Alyce’s three-inch boot heels was agony — how she managed not to fall in these shoes was a mystery to me. But they did look great under my swirling gypsy skirt, and I could tell by the way Zachary’s black eyes lit up when he saw me that he liked how I looked.
He was waiting outside the gallery on a wrought iron bench, looking stiff and clean-cut in a navy blue jacket, a blue button-up shirt, and dark, pressed slacks. When he stood up, I realized Alyce was two inches taller than he was.
“Hi, Zachary,” I said, a bit shyly.
“Hey, Alyce. Here.” He offered me a small wrapped present.
“You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I wanted to.”
“Well … thanks.”
“I didn’t think you were the flower or candy type so I gave you—”
“Breath mints,” I finished, as the wrapping paper crinkled. “That’s really … um … thoughtful.”
“You can never have too many breath mints. I always give them to my teachers, too. I hope you like spearmint with lemon.”
“Sure.” I almost made a joke about it being a “sucky” gift — but Alyce always groaned when I made puns. So I asked him if he’d been ever been to this galley.
“No, although I’ve always wanted to check it out.” He shook his head, his black hair so short and slicked with gel that not a strand moved. “It has a great reputation with displays of surrealistic, 3-D, and neon art. But of course you know that.”
“I do?” I gave him a startled look as he opened the Neon Green Gallery door for me.
“I heard you talking to Tobey.”
Tobey, otherwise known as Mr. Toben, was Alyce’s art teacher sophomore year. He had this open-door policy with students, so when she couldn’t deal with crowds at lunch, she’d hang out in his classroom.
I knew next to nothing about art, so I wisely didn’t say much as Zachary pointed out sculptures and paintings, most of it too strange for my taste. The paintings ranged from depressing images of despair and horror to colorful splashes of color that could easily have been splatter-painted by my little sisters. When I looked at a random price tag, I nearly gasped at the five figures. I mean, who in their right mind would pay that much? I could frame my little sisters’ finger-paint art and make a fortune.
I struggled not to yawn as Zachary explained his theories on conceptual and visionary paintings — things like inner conflicts depicted in physical form represent suppressed longings. Blah, blah, whatever. Who cared about a bunch of globs that was supposed to represent an ailing planet?
My interest returned when Zachary led me to a room titled “About Face.” Across the walls a world of photographs smiled, frowned, cried, rejoiced, and raged in full color, black and white, or sepia. I remembered that when Alyce experimented with black and white, an ordinary chair would turn into something fascinating. When I’d complimented her work, she’d frowned and said it was crap. I found out later that she’d burned the chair photograph.
I was studying a portrait of an old man, his eyes wide open yet lifeless, like he was dead, when Zachary called me into the next room.
The room reminded me of a cave with its low ceiling and dim lighting. The only illumination came from spotlights flowing across individual paintings. Zachary led me over to a painting titled “Bones.” At first glance I only saw a never-ending void of nightmare black, until I looked closer and saw curves of white and silver, brush-strokes that blended together to form a single image — of a skull.