Finding Mr. Better-Than-You Read online

  Ms. Vail gave me one of those pitying smiles I could never stand. “I hope you’re right. But you only have two marking periods before applications are due. That’s not a lot of time.”

  “I’ll make it work.”

  I had to.

  Everything I dreamed about depended on it.

  Chapter 2

  I opened the door to the gymnasium, careful not to bring any attention to myself. I was super late. The volleyball match was well underway. I glanced up at the scoreboard and cringed. It wasn’t good. Fourth set, and Brooksvale was down. They needed to tie this game to stay alive. Grace and her teammates broke out of a huddle and took their spots on the court. They looked intense. I scanned the bleachers for my other best friend, Terri Marin, and quickly maneuvered my way through the stands to her.

  Her dark eyes were focused on her sketch pad, her long brown-almost-black curls hanging over the page, as the pencil in her hand moved at warp speed. I snapped a photo with my phone. I’d call it The Artist at Work. Terri didn’t notice me do it; she was so fixated on her drawing that she didn’t even stir when I sat down next to her. “Hey,” I said, bumping my shoulder gently into hers. “Sorry I’m late. Got stuck at the guidance counselor’s office. Long, horrible story. I’ll tell you all about it.”

  She turned toward me, and before she could even get out a word, my mouth dropped into an O and I gasped. “Oh no. Don’t kill me.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m so, so sorry. I did not do this on purpose. I meant to change. Honest. I totally forgot with everything that happened.” I peeked one eye open. “How mad are you?”

  Terri was shaking her head and pinching her navy-blue shirt, which had a giant GO written on it in silver glitter. “How many times did you make me promise I would remember to put this on?” she asked.

  “Eight?” I answered, scrunching my nose.

  “Try fifteen,” she corrected me. “And yet, somehow, I’m the one looking like a glitter bomb exploded on me, while Little Miss School Spirit is wearing plain old jeans and a lacy pink top. Not even wearing school colors. You’re slipping.”

  Fortunately, her voice seemed playful and not pissed. Still, I felt guilty. “I wasn’t even thinking. I can go get mine. It’s in my locker.” The shirt I was supposed to be wearing had Grace’s name written on it in the same silver glitter.

  Terri shook her head. “Forget it. By the time you get back here, the whole match will be over. But you owe me! I have sparkles everywhere. I’ll probably still be dripping glitter at graduation.” She picked a piece off her arm to emphasize her point.

  “I totally owe you.” I put up my fingers in the Girl Scout Promise. “On my honor, I promise to help Terri at all times, and to live by the Girl Scout Law,” I recited, altering the organization’s pledge.

  “That’s a start,” Terri said, but she was already back to sketching in her pad, which meant I was off the hook. When Terri was angry, she made sure you knew it.

  “On the plus side, you’re wearing my art,” I reminded her. “That should make you happy.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “You definitely need Winters’ class if you think this shirt is art.”

  “Hey,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and putting on my best mock-indignation voice. “The Griffin kids and I worked very hard on that. Wait until you see the signs we made.”

  “Hopefully, the twins made them by themselves. I’ve seen your work.” She laughed at her own joke.

  The Griffins were five-year-olds I babysat every once in a while. Terri did, too. The kids loved doing any type of crafts project. Unfortunately, my skills were pretty much on par with theirs, which everyone seemed to be reminding me about today.

  “We can’t all be Picasso,” I told her.

  “Picasso, really? Surrealism or neoclassical—you really think that’s my style?”

  I threw my hands up. “You just told me a kindergartener is more artistic than I am—do you really think I know the difference between periods or styles?”

  “Yes. I mean, I know all about rom-coms, and the romance tropes you go on and on about.” She started ticking them off on her fingers. “Friends to lovers. Enemies to lovers. Second-chance romance. Destined lov—”

  “Okay, okay, I get it, you’re a better listener than I am. But in my defense, you usually talk about your inspiration for a piece—i.e., a hot guy, a memory, Christmas tinsel—and not your particular style. Besides, you know I’m your biggest fan. Well, other than Luke.” I wiggled my eyebrows up and down.

  “Oh my God, don’t go there—you know we’re just friends,” Terri said, swatting me with her sketch pad.

  I grabbed it. She and Luke Cahill had gone out a couple of times during sophomore year, but it never went anywhere. Terri thought that being in a long-term relationship in high school was stupid, that tying yourself down was for when you were old and boring. At first, it didn’t seem like Luke felt the same way. He was always hanging around us, but eventually he kind of became one of us—an honorary member of our little group, even if I did like to tease Terri about their dating history every once in a while.

  “Terri,” I moaned, her current sketch catching my eye, “please tell me your motivation for this one isn’t Lissi.” I whispered the name, even though Grace was nowhere near us. “Grace is going to have a fit.”

  “It’s not my fault,” Terri said, grabbing her pad back. “Look how intense her expression is. It hasn’t changed throughout the whole game. How could I not draw that?”

  I followed Terri’s gaze to the sidelines. There was Lissi. I hadn’t noticed her, but now that I did, it was hard to look away. She was hyperfocused on the game. She was leaning forward, lips pursed, eyes lasered in on the players. “Nice ace!” Lissi called out after Crystal Pollack made a serve that the other team couldn’t return. “Do it again.”

  “Well, the sight of Grace’s fists might be a deterrent,” I said, noticing the way her arm muscles were bulging.

  Grace’s hands were tight balls, and her whole body was stiff. She looked like a force to be reckoned with. Lissi either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because she went right on shouting out instructions. Apparently, she had been a star on her team back in New Hampshire. But here in Brooksvale, that role belonged to Grace. She had worked hard to bring the team together, to keep everyone in sync, and to make practice a priority. She’d been bumped up to varsity during sophomore year and helped turn a losing team into state champions. This year she was finally captain, and she loved all nineteen of her teammates.

  Our varsity teams could only roster twenty players each, and the volleyball team was full. But according to Grace, Lissi showed up at summer practice for the last two weeks, right before school started, and said she wanted to be on the team. Coach was hesitant to make an exception. If you let one extra on, why not two or three, or ten, or everyone who tried out? He wanted a team he could manage—and coach properly. JV was for the masses, at least at Brooksvale. Allowing Lissi on would mean kicking someone else off. There was still a discussion about what to do. In the meantime, Lissi kept attending practices, and now apparently the games. This annoyed Grace to no end.

  “You might want to burn that picture before Grace sees it,” I warned Terri.

  “I think you might be right,” she said, turning to a fresh page in her pad. “So why were you so late today? What happened with the guidance counselor?”

  Instead of answering, I jumped out of my seat. “Go, Grace!” I screamed, and started clapping. She had just spiked the ball over the net, winning the set and tying the match. It was 2–2. Anyone’s game.

  “Come on,” I said, pulling Terri’s arm.

  Terri gathered up all her stuff. “This is the most ridiculous thing ever.”

  She said that every time, but it was tradition. At Brooksvale High volleyball games, when the teams switched sides, so did the spectators.

  I took her bag from her. “You don’t want Grace thinking you’re rooting for her opponents.”

 
Terri’s face went wooden. “Trust me. She knows if I’m at a game, I’m here for her.”

  “You’re a good friend,” I told her, patting her on the back. Terri was not shy about her disdain for sports. But she rarely missed Grace’s home games. She was one of those people you could always count on to be there.

  “I know,” Terri said with a smirk as she climbed down the bleachers.

  As we neared the other side of the gym, some guy I’d never seen gave a meek wave.

  “Terri, hi.”

  She winked at him and kept walking, adding just a smidge more sway to her hips. Terri was curvy and confident, and I was more than a little in awe of her ability to flirt and make friends wherever she went.

  “Who was that?” I whispered.

  “Remember I told you about Mr. Sneezed-All-Over-My-Pizza?” she said as we situated ourselves in our new seats. “That was him.”

  “No way.” I totally remembered that story. Terri had met some guy at a Sandbrook High party; they ditched it and went out for a slice, and as they were sitting outside eating, he sneezed all over hers. “That was him?”

  “Yes,” she said, giving me eyes that said don’t you dare look in his direction, “but that was a million years ago. Who cares?” It was actually only about five months, but who was counting? “Are you going to answer my question or what?” she continued.

  “Huh?”

  “What happened with the guidance counselor?”

  “Oh yeah.” I sighed and then filled her in about my lack of extracurriculars, and how if I didn’t find some soon, my Columbia dreams would be over.

  Terri shook her head. “I told you not to quit volleyball over a boy.”

  “I didn’t. I did it to watch my sister.”

  She gave me another one of her stares—she was the queen of them—and this particular look always had me spilling the truth whether I wanted to or not. “Okay, fine. I did it for a boy. But not for just any boy—for Marc.” I could tell she had to resist rolling her eyes. I quit the volleyball team before the end of the season during my freshman year so I could watch Marc play in the soccer finals. He was so excited about getting that far, and I didn’t want to miss his moment. “But it wasn’t like I was that great, and I would have had to quit the next year anyway.”

  “You’re always doing what Marc—” She stopped herself. “I’m sorry. This isn’t the time for that.” She squeezed my arm. “You’re amazing, Cam. I know how much you want to get into Columbia. You’ll figure something out. And if you need anything, I’m here to help.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What did Marc say about your meeting?”

  I pressed my hands down on the bleacher. “Nothing yet. By the time I was done with the guidance counselor, he was already in soccer practice. He won’t look at his phone for hours.” Although I knew his first words were going to be that it would all work out. It wasn’t necessarily true, but hearing him say it would make me feel better anyway. It always did. I really needed to talk to him. “I’ll see him tonight; we’re going to the diner. Hopefully, he’ll be able to come up with something.”

  “You’ll be able to.”

  I let the statement go. I knew Terri wasn’t the biggest Marc Gerber fan. She thought I relied on him too much, but that was because she didn’t understand what it was like to be in a couple.

  Marc and I were better together. What we had wasn’t boring or mutually dependent—it was love. And with him by my side, there was no way I couldn’t get through this.

  I was more determined than ever. I was going to Columbia, and so was Marc. We just needed a new plan.

  Chapter 3

  It had only been a few hours since my meeting with my guidance counselor, but in that time I’d gone from stressed to panicked. “Whoa,” the waitress said as I inhaled the last remnants of my Oreo Madness shake through my straw. “That was fast. Want another?”

  I looked up from my book and shook my head no. I could have done without the commentary, but I bit my tongue. Tonight was definitely a two-, possibly three-shake night. Still, I was going to wait until Marc got there before I dove into my next one.

  We were supposed to meet at Scobell’s Diner at seven, but I’d arrived a half hour early. I needed to get out of my house, so I had my mom drive me over as soon as she could. I was feeling antsy. The volleyball game had been a temporary distraction, but I couldn’t shake Ms. Vail’s words. Thoughts of Marc were the only things calming me down.

  I couldn’t even focus on my book. I’d read the same page six times, and I was at my favorite part—where the dorky yet adorable main character was about to learn that her secret crush actually liked her. Loved her, even. Their eyes would meet; they’d move closer until they were mere millimeters apart. Then they’d have that epic kiss, the one to seal their fate as a perfect couple, so that they could ride off into their happily-ever-after. Except that this time it wasn’t cheering me up. All I could think about was that my perfect ending had a giant crack in it and was in serious danger of falling apart. Sure, not going to the same college as Marc wouldn’t destroy us, but it would make things a lot harder. I wanted things to be easy and fun. My dream school with my dream guy. I closed the book and put it back in my bag. Why couldn’t life be like a rom-com?

  I took a deep breath.

  The clock above the cash register ticked to seven, but it didn’t magically make my boyfriend appear. Not that I was surprised—he was never on time. Sometimes I’d tell him things started twenty minutes earlier than they actually did, just so he’d get there when I wanted him to. I hoped today he wouldn’t keep me waiting too long. I really needed to see his face.

  I played with my straw and scanned the crowd. Scobell’s was busy. I guess that was to be expected since it was the first Friday night of the school year. The diner was swamped on a normal evening—it was pretty much the main hangout for every high school kid in Brooksvale, Sandbrook, and every other surrounding town—and after having to deal with homework and classes after a whole summer off, everyone wanted to go out. I recognized a bunch of faces, not that I really knew them—just of them. A couple of people from the newspaper were there. Some guy Terri had hung out with for like a week during sophomore year was sitting with a group I didn’t know. Grace’s old chem lab partner was at the table behind me. And Avery Owens and her cheerleading clique were by the old arcade games. She looked up, had probably sensed me staring, but I turned my focus back to my phone before she could catch my eye. I didn’t want to seem like some stalker.

  Right as I was about to text Marc, he walked in the door. He was wearing his faded blue Yankees T-shirt. I couldn’t help but smile at the familiar sight. He wore that thing all the time. I’d bought him a new team shirt for his birthday, but he wouldn’t give up that old one. He said he wore it during a game where the Yankees had an epic comeback, and that it was “lucky.” Marc was about as attached to it as my little sister was to her security blanket—even though at thirteen she was way too old for it. Hopefully, the shirt would conjure up some magic and help us figure out this whole Columbia mess.

  I caught Marc’s eye; he nodded at me and held up a finger to indicate “one minute” as he stopped by a table over by the far wall. I leaned over to get a better look. It was a bunch of the guys from the soccer team. I wished I had seen them earlier; I totally would have sat with them while I waited. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but a couple of minutes later Marc slid into the booth across from me.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey.” I reached out and took his hand. He was still tan from the summer, his usual pale complexion sun-kissed. I hated that I hadn’t gotten to spend the past few months with him. He was always happiest when the weather was warm.

  Marc stared down at the table, and his messy dark brown curls tumbled forward. The familiar scent of coconut-scented shampoo and musky body spray flooded my nose. I took a deep whiff. Some people liked to breathe in lavender and jasmine to calm down, but my go-to scent was Marc.
Being with him was exactly what I needed right now.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been freaking out ever since I left the guidance counselor. I even went off on my mom on the way over here. She kept asking what we were doing tonight, and I just lost it.” I puffed my cheeks with air and let my breath out slowly. “‘It’s a diner, we’re eating, what do you think,’” I said, giving a playback of my response—sarcastic tone and all. I felt guilty. I shouldn’t have taken it out on my mom. I just hadn’t been in a talking mood.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Marc said, his eyes still focused on the table. “I’m sure she’s over it.”

  He wouldn’t even look at me. We hadn’t talked since I’d texted him the news, and he seemed to be taking it even harder than I had. With my free hand, I tossed my straw wrapper at him. “Hey, you okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s just…” Marc’s voice trailed off.

  He didn’t have to say anything. I understood. This Columbia thing was screwing everything up. “It will be all right. It’s us. And I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure I get in.” Somehow I’d wound up trying to comfort him instead of the other way around, but I couldn’t help it. I hated seeing him upset. It snapped me into Miss Fix-It mode. “Now let’s brainstorm.” I squeezed his hand. “I need that mind of yours.”

  Before we got the chance, the waitress came over. “Get you guys anything?”

  “I think we’re going to need two extra-large Mint Explosion milk—”

  “Actually,” Marc said, cutting me off, “can you give us a few minutes? We might be heading out soon.”

  I put my other hand on his and practically bounced in my seat. “Ooh. This sounds good. What do you have in mind? Where are we going? What are we doing?” I knew I sounded like an overeager kindergartener, but I didn’t care. This was what I’d been craving. A Marc pick-me-up. Some sort of special surprise that would make me feel like all of this would be okay again.

  “Cam…” He looked up, his hazel eyes locking onto mine.