Now looking at Adrian painting her nails with sullen resolve, it hurt all over again. I let out a sigh. "How long are you going to bring up Travis for?"
She turned from her toenails to her fingernails. While I watched she gave herself long, black claws. "Just until I get even."
I didn't say anything else to her. There wasn't a point. Some people will never forgive you. It's too much fun hating you instead.
Chapter 11
On Monday Samantha, Molly, Polly, and I spent all of history class working on our report. It was nearly done. This was not my fault. I'm not one of those people who plan to leave things to the last minute, it just happens naturally. The last minute works for me.
But Molly and Polly would have none of it. They wanted to get the project done right away so we wouldn't have to worry about it later. I tried to point out that it was just as easy not to worry about it now and then worry about it quickly later. In fact, it was probably more worry-effective because really, how much can you worry about something at the last minute?
Polly said, "Look, we know you're busy with your cheerleading and practicing for those auditions and all. We can take care of typing the report and doing the bibliography if you don't have time for it."
Which was touching considering they'd started out the project insisting that they weren't going to let me cheat off of them. Still, I didn't want to make them do most of the work, because I hadn't been nice to them so I could slack off. I'd been nice to them so that Mr. Metzerol would give me voice lessons.
Which sounded just as bad, but it wasn't. I mean, I liked Molly and Polly. That had to count for something.
So then I had to tell them, that no, I didn't want them doing my work for me, which meant I had to try and plow through it quickly so I didn't let everyone else down.
Although really, Samantha was having a hard time concentrating on her part: Space travel, the early years, because she was mad at Logan.
When she'd met Aubrie, Rachel, and me at our usual chat spot that morning, she crossed her arms and shook her head. "It happened again."
"What happened again?" Aubrie asked, already sympathetic.
"Logan drove me to school this morning, and I used Rachel's method and asked him questions about his interests." She held up one hand to emphasize her point. "He talked about himself all the way to school."
We stared at her waiting for more information, which didn't come. "Well, wasn't that the point?" Aubrie asked.
"I've been doing it for three days. It's been three days that I've said nothing about myself, and he hasn't even noticed. Or cared. I could be a computer program that repeats, 'What do you think about that, Logan?' and he'd be just as happy with me. Apparently my contribution to our conversations has always just been to take up dead space until he could talk about himself again."
Rachel shook her head. "I told you it gets boring if you do it non-stop. Remember, that's what kissing is for."
Samantha tossed her hair from her shoulder. "I don't want to kiss someone who doesn't care what I think about anything."
Aubrie looked at each one of us in turn, her expression growing stern. "See, I told you that whole-just-make-him-talk-about-himself thing was a bad idea, but no, you wouldn't listen."
"Actually," I said, "it's worked out great for me."
"Kissing," Rachel said as though making a point.
Samantha grit her teeth. "I was sure by this morning he'd get suspicious. I mean, if he wouldn't talk about himself, I'd think he was hiding something. I'd start questioning him about it. He doesn't even care that I could be keeping things from him." She flung her hand in my direction. "I could be living a secret double life like Chelsea."
"And I'm happy being a college student. College guys are more mature."
Samantha let out a sigh. "Maybe I should become a college student too."
Between space flight, and trying to hold onto notes with my diaphragm so Mr. Metzerol wouldn't jab me with his stick, I hardly had time to think about Tanner until he called me that afternoon. He wanted to know where he should pick me up for the dinner at his house.
Yeah, I should have figured that out beforehand, since I didn't want to tell him that I lived with my family. "I'm going to be at the library working on a project," I said. "Why don't you meet me out front?"
This still wasn't lying because I could work on the space flight stuff up at the campus library as easily as anywhere else. It just meant I had to take the bus up there to do it.
The whole double-life thing could get complicated if I didn't confess everything soon. I mean, there is a fine line between verbal camouflage and out right lying. Tonight, I decided, after our date, assuming it went well, I'd tell him the truth.
Tanner picked me up at six o'clock and we drove to Sunnyside Hill. He tapped his finger against the steering wheel as he drove. "I probably should warn you that my grandma is opinionated. She's old and rich and thinks that gives her the right to say anything she wants."
"Oh," I said, "I'll remember that."
More tapping. "My brother, of course, is also opinionated. He's young and rebellious so he thinks that gives him the right to say anything he wants."
"I understand," I said.
"Richard's supposed to be on his best behavior tonight, but that's not saying much. Grandma thinks he should go to Juilliard and he's trying to get out of it."
It only vaguely registered that this was the first time Tanner had told me his brother's name. I dredged my memory for everything I knew about Juilliard. It was an exclusive music school in New York. Very hard to get into. My next-door neighbor had practiced hours each day on the piano trying to get in and hadn't made it.
"Your brother plays the piano?" I asked.
"Juilliard isn't just for pianists. It has other programs. Grandma thinks if Richard wants a future in music, Juilliard is the place to go. She has connections so she thinks she can get him in." Tanner grunted and shook his head. "My brother's last comment on the subject was that he'd rather eat a classical guitar than play one." He glanced at me with an apologetic smile. "I'm only telling you this so you'll know what's going on if they start in on each other."
It seemed like an odd thing to argue about. "Isn't it his choice where he goes to school?"
"Sure. And Grandma can choose to do something else with his trust-fund money." Tanner shrugged. "You see how it is. Richard wants to be independent, but not so independent that he has to support himself on a musician's salary."
We stopped at a large brick home with an immaculate yard. Tanner opened the car door for me, which was so nice. Not only did he treat me like I was smart, he treated me like I was a lady.
When we walked into the house, Tanner's mother was the first to greet us. She gave Tanner a hug and me a big hello. She told me to call her Barb and said I was welcome over any time. Then Tanner's dad came up and shook my hand. They seemed so happy to meet me that I liked them immediately, and not just because I noticed Tanner's dad give him the thumbs-up sign while I was talking to his mom.
Then Tanner and I walked into the living room to meet The Grandmother. I knew, from the tone Tanner had used to describe her, that she wasn't a "nanna" or any other endearing terms grandchildren use. She was The Grandmother, said in the same tone one would say The Godfather.