"Right. I'll take care of it." Maria jumped up and snatched Alex's sundae off the table. She hurried over to the counter.
Liz took a bite of her frozen yogurt. She was basically stalling. She was hoping she'd come up with some great thing to say to Alex about the whole Isabel sitch. But there wasn't anything. Liz knew that. It's not like anybody had been able to say anything that made her feel better about Max wanting to be just friends.
"Those rainbow sprinkles don't taste like anything," Alex mumbled.
"Yeah. They look like they should taste great. Like they should just explode in your mouth with all these flavors," Liz agreed. "Maybe you could do one of your lists on that, on food that tastes totally different than you'd expect it to."
"Maybe." Alex got really interested in smoothing out all the wrinkles in his paper napkin.
"Hey, I'm sorry." Liz patted his arm as if he were a puppy or something, which made her feel like her abuelita. That's what she always did when someone looked upset. "I know sometimes it makes you feel worse when people try to cheer you up," she said.
Liz definitely had times where she just wanted to curl up under the covers, listen to some really sad songs about love gone bad, and think of Max. When she was in that kind of mood, she didn't want anyone trying to make her feel better.
She leaned closer to Alex. "I know ice cream isn't going to help, either," she whispered. "But it makes Maria feel better to do something for you."
Maria had force-fed Liz the full menu of comfort food after Max told her he wanted to be just friends. Liz had choked down many varieties of chocolate, macaroni and cheese, french fries, and all the other greasy, fatty, sweet foods Maria could think of.
Which just proved what an amazing friend Maria was. Maria was a total natural food fanatic. She refused to eat anything with preservatives, additives, or artificial colors. She never ate meat or eggs or any dairy products. But when her friends were feeling blue, Maria made it her job to get them the food she thought would make them feel better. Even if she was dying to stuff them full of blue-green algae, wheat grass, and tofu.
Maria hurried back over with Alex's new and improved sundae. She watched him intently as he took a bite, then shook her head. "It's not working. He doesn't look any happier," she said. "I have a theory about why. Alex eats junk food three meals a day, so junk food doesn't give him that little boost it gives most people."
"Maybe," Liz said. Or maybe when you got your heart broken, nothing could make you feel any better, she thought.
Every day when she woke up, she did a little experiment on herself. She looked at a picture she had of Max and then tried to rank how much it hurt on a scale from one to ten. She kept hoping one day she'd at least be at 9.9 instead of a full ten. But it hadn't happened yet.
"Alex, tell us again what happened when you went miniature golfing," Maria said. "What exactly did Isabel say before she kissed you?"
"I have to remind you that I'm a guy," Alex said. "I know that we hang out a lot and that you might have started getting a little confused. But I do burp and scratch myself, and I even own a jockstrap. I am a guy with full guy standing. And guys don't do the whole 'then she said, then I said' analyzing-every-little-detail thing."
"That's nothing to brag about," Maria told him. "It's healthy to talk about things."
Liz wasn't so sure. She and Maria had analyzed every moment of the little span of time after Liz and Max were friends but before they became just friends. But it didn't help. It didn't make Liz feel any better. And it didn't give her some great idea about how to get Max back.
"Just tell me what kind of kiss it was," Maria begged Alex. "You know, like how long it lasted. It will help, really."
Alex put his head in his hands and moaned. He's totally miserable, Liz thought. I wonder if Isabel has the tiniest clue.
She knew Max had to be feeling as horrible as she was, and that made her feel better. She knew it shouldn't, but it did.
A little.
Michael slid open Maria's window and pulled himself inside. He tossed the Evil Dead video on her bed. Where was she? He cracked open her bedroom door and listened. The house was empty. This sucked. He'd been looking forward to listening to her squeal her way through another horror movie.
Maybe he should have called first to see if she was even home. But it's not like he planned to come over. It was his last night at the Hugheses', and Mrs. Hughes had asked him to be sure and be there for dinner, which he was. She made a cake and everything. It was kind of obvious that she was feeling bad about kicking him out.
But the whole thing was just so fake and phony. Mr. and Mrs. Hughes's auras made it real clear they were not having a good time. And Michael definitely wasn't, either. But they all sat there, putting on an act for each other. Pathetic. By the time he choked down a piece of cake, he was dying to get out of there. He made up a lame excuse about wanting to say goodbye to some of the neighbors-as if-and took off.
He wandered around for a while, and when he passed the video store, he got the idea of picking up a flick and hanging out with Maria. Evil Dead was one of his all-time favorites. It had this great scene where a guy's hand becomes possessed and he starts breaking all these dishes over his own head. It was kind of like what would happen if the Three Stooges made a horror movie.
Michael thought about taking the video over to Alex's. But since Alex's love train had crashed, he wasn't exactly fun to hang out with. If the two of them got together tonight, their double bad mood might push them both over the edge.
He definitely didn't want to hit Max's house. For one thing, he didn't think he could look at Isabel without starting to scream at her. Plus Sunday night was sort of family night over there. Mr. and Mrs. Evans were always cool about having Michael around. They joked about him being their favorite kid. But he didn't feel like being an honorary Evans family member. Not tonight.
Michael sat down on Maria's bed. Maybe he'd wait for her for a while. He stretched out and felt a lump under his back. He dug around and pulled out a pair of purple-and-orange camouflage pants. He snorted. Camouflage was supposed to help you blend into your surroundings. It's not like there were many purple-and-orange trees or buildings or… anything.
And the legs on the things were huge. Each leg would hold two of Maria's whole body, practically. So they were really bad camouflage, and if you needed to run-forget about it. But the pants had looked pretty cute on Maria the other day when she wore them with that tiny fuzzy little sweater.
Michael shifted around on the bed. There was still something jammed underneath him. He felt around and pulled out a pair of boxer shorts. Wait. What was Maria doing with boxers on her bed?
He held them up, and a smile broke across his face. These definitely didn't belong to a guy. They had little baby ducks all over them. And they did look Maria size. He dropped them on top of the pants.
He grabbed one of her pillows and stuck it under his head. It had that weird smell, the cough-drops-and-flowers smell. He took a deep breath. Maybe Maria was right. It actually did smell kind of good. And it totally cleared his nose.
Footsteps came down the hall toward him. A second later the door swung open and Maria stepped inside. She gave a little scream when she saw him.
"I brought a movie," Michael told her.
"Actually, I have to make a cake for my mom's birthday," Maria said.
Michael shoved himself to his feet. He should've known better than to just invite himself over. "I guess it's kind of late, anyway. I should take off." He headed toward the window.