Making Out Read online

  “We went shopping for prom dresses, and I found the most amazing—”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Todd interrupted.

  “What?”

  “Prom. I mean, not just prom, but . . .”

  He wasn’t looking at her. He just kept stirring his smoothie around and around.

  Don’t tell me he doesn’t want to go to the prom, Lisa Marie thought. Not that she’d be surprised if he was freaked about the expense. Something she’d read online the other day said that with the tux, corsage, limo, dinner, prom tickets, photographs, and maybe splitting a hotel suite for the after-party, guys regularly spent close to a thousand dollars on prom night.

  So what was it? Maybe he needed to forget the limo?

  “Just say it,” Lisa Marie said.

  Todd let go of his straw and met her eyes. “I think I want to try dating other people.”

  Lisa Marie couldn’t quite process that information. Did he mean now? Before the prom? Take a break from her, and then get back together in time for the prom?

  Or did he mean . . . was he . . . actually . . . breaking up with her?

  It was so out of left field!

  Or as Todd always said when he was spouting high-level math concepts, “We’ve crossed the line into chaos theory.”

  “Why?”

  “I just . . . do.” Mr. Mathematical Mind. He wasn’t going to try to soften it for her. He was too logical for that.

  “But . . .” Lisa Marie felt her face getting hot and her throat closing up. I am not going to cry in the food court, she silently swore to herself. She pressed a finger into the corner of one eye, but it didn’t help. Tears slipped down both cheeks.

  Her head swirled with a million emotions. How could he just dump her like that? And in a public place. That part was unforgivable and totally humiliating. For an instant, she wondered who was watching and glanced around at the clusters of weary shoppers. But the scene was a blur—her eyes were full of tears.

  “Don’t cry,” Todd said softly, as if he still cared about her.

  “Bullshit.” Lisa Marie stood up and pushed away from the table. She wasn’t going to sit there and listen to him try to make her feel better about it. He was dumping her. It hurt.

  She walked away, trying to choke back the feelings of rejection, trying to put this whole thing in perspective. Okay, sure—she was tired of him, and she’d been planning to dump him after graduation. But it still hurt to be the dumpee.

  He hadn’t even given her a hint. Not a clue.

  Damn! I wish I’d dumped him first, Lisa Marie thought bitterly.

  And what about the prom? What about the dress? What about working her ass off for seven weeks so she’d look like a princess? Was she really supposed to give up her Saturday nights to buy a ridiculously overpriced dress when she didn’t even have a date?

  Princesses don’t say “ass,” she thought, as she rubbed a scratchy napkin over her nose, dabbed her puffy eyes, and made her way to Starbucks.

  Forget Todd. I’m going to buy that dress. I’m going to go to the prom. And I’m going to look like a princess when I do it. Period.

  Chapter 2

  “Sorry I can’t stay to watch. Early business meeting.” Marianna’s father steered his Lexus SUV into the deserted parking lot behind the St. Claire’s Academy athletic field and flicked off the headlights. Through the early morning fog, Marianna could see the small group of her teammates on the cross-country team warming up and stretching, getting ready for their interval training.

  Her eyes immediately settled on Luke Perchik, the cutest guy on the team.

  “Not a problem.” Marianna tried not to let her relief show in her voice. Was her dad actually going to leave her alone during practice for a change? That would be a first. Usually he hung around being obnoxious, acting like he was some kind of an expert, giving Coach Robinson pointers on running style.

  “Are you doing fartlek today?” her dad asked. “Robinson doesn’t emphasize that enough, if you ask me.”

  Fartlek was a training regimen that Marianna especially liked—running fast, then slow, changing pace with quick bursts of speed. But having her dad push about it took all the fun away.

  “I’ve gotta go, Dad.” She jumped out of the car.

  “Marianna, tell Robinson to make sure those boys aren’t staring at your chest when you run,” her father called out the window.

  God. Her eyes darted toward the team, hoping they hadn’t overheard. No one seemed to be paying any attention. Par for the course, she thought, wishing that Luke would at least look up to acknowledge her once in a while. She’d had a crush on him all year, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  But then again, why should he? When she was around him, she barely made eye contact. She didn’t dare—not with her father hovering over her every second like he was Secret Service or something.

  She jogged off toward the locker room to change out of her sweats and baggy T-shirt (her father-approved training uniform) and into a pair of short shorts and a tank top that let her midriff show.

  By now, she was so used to maneuvering around her father’s strict rules and oppressive control of her life, she didn’t even think twice about it. She had all the strategies down pat: (1) take a change of clothes to school; (2) never discuss boys at the dinner table (her father could ruin any meal with his endless lectures about how all guys wanted was to get in your pants); (3) never discuss guys in her e-mails (which her father was obviously reading while she was at school); (4) pretend to be grossed out by any music video with raunchy lyrics, revealing outfits, or sexy dancing (which her father termed “borderline obscene”); and (5) behave at all times like the phrase nice Armenian girl didn’t make her want to gag.

  Translation: Act like she planned to stay a virgin for the rest of her life.

  Highly likely, Marianna thought, given that she could barely even get a date. Not that she’d be allowed to go out if anyone ever asked her.

  She tied her thick, black, wavy hair into a messy bun on top of her head and glanced at her reflection in the scratched locker-room mirror. Even without makeup, she had to admit that her friends were right: she looked pretty good. Her skin was flawless, and her almond eyes had a dark intensity that made total strangers stare at her.

  But what was the point in looking fabulous when not one single guy at St. Claire’s Academy had ever asked her out? Not unless you counted Bennie Berger, who had begged her for three solid weeks to go to Homecoming their freshmen year.

  Heather and Lisa Marie claimed that guys were afraid to ask her out because she was so gorgeous. They were sure she’d turn them down.

  Yeah, right. Bennie Berger was living proof of that.

  She jogged back onto the field and flopped down on the damp grass to stretch her hamstrings. The ground was cold. She was going to have a big wet spot on her butt when she stood up.

  “Bend it, Kazanjian,” Brad Morganthal teased, jogging past her and purposely kicking her shoe.

  “Just try to keep up with me,” Marianna teased back. Morganthal had been running in last place on the team for several weeks.

  “What do I get if I do?” Morganthal called over his shoulder, but he didn’t wait for an answer.

  Is he flirting with me? Marianna wondered. She glanced over at Jennifer Giles, the only other girl with any talent on the cross-country team.

  “Go for it,” Jennifer said. “I don’t care. Brad and I broke up months ago.”

  Marianna blinked, surprised. “I didn’t even know you were going out,” she said truthfully.

  Jennifer shrugged and started to say something, but Coach Robinson called her away.

  “So what was your time on Friday?” a voice right behind Marianna asked.

  Still leaning forward, reaching for her toes, Marianna twisted her head around to see who was asking.

  Luke’s soft blondish-brown hair flopped over his sky blue sweatband. He grinned at her as he bent and twisted, loosening up.
r />   Was he actually talking to her? She couldn’t quite believe it.

  Too quickly, she sat up and stammered, “My time? I ran 29:14, but I didn’t do tempo training last week, so I think I can improve.”

  “I doubt it,” Luke said.

  “Why?” Marianna’s heart folded in half. Luke Perchik, the love of her life, was finally talking to her . . . just to dis her?

  “Because you’re already running about ten times better than anyone else on the team,” he said.

  He bent at the waist, hands on his hips, and swiveled back and forth, shooting her a grin each time he turned in her direction.

  “Thanks.” Marianna pretended to stretch again, although she was more interested in making sure her hair didn’t fall the wrong way and her tank top didn’t bunch up, making her look fat. Her pulse started racing. There had to be some way to keep this conversation going . . .

  Say something, Marianna, she told herself. Anything. Her brain went blank.

  “So, uh, what time did Coach say to meet at Warburton on Saturday?” she asked.

  So lame.

  “Ten, I think.” Luke answered like he wasn’t sure himself. Then he squatted beside her. “Listen . . .” His tone sounded half worried, half nervous. “I was thinking . . .”

  Just then, Coach blew his whistle. “Move it, Perchik!” Robinson called. “I want to see your stride before you hit the road.”

  “You were thinking?” Marianna prompted him, wishing he’d finish his sentence. She had the vague feeling that he was trying to ask her out. Wishful thinking, no doubt.

  “You, too, Kazanjian!” Coach shouted.

  Luke ran off without answering. In the distance, she could see him taking a lap around the track before he hit the trail that led into the woods. She thought about following him, trying to catch up, but she didn’t want to be too obvious.

  She took a lap to warm up, then Coach Robinson called her over to give her a few pointers about her stride. Finally he let her go, and she pounded toward the trail, entering the woods right behind Jennifer Giles.

  The trees were bare except for the evergreens. A few young buds poked out of some maple tree branches. Still, the woods were darker than the field, and quiet. Marianna loved the feeling she had when she was running in there: free and alone.

  “Hey—hold up!”

  Her head jerked around, but her training was deeply ingrained: never stop running. Luke was behind her, trying to catch up. Apparently he’d been waiting in a clump of pine trees just off the trail. With his powerful, long stride, he was even with her a few moments later. They jogged along side by side for a minute, and she sneaked a look at his sweaty chest.

  Luke was the definition of hot. He was the right height, too. At five foot ten, Marianna was taller than a lot of senior guys, but Luke towered over her.

  “Hi,” she panted, her voice jerky as her feet hit the earth.

  “Hi. You’re hard to catch, you know that?”

  “I’ve never seen you trying,” she said cautiously, in an effort to sound just a little bit flirty, but not too much, in case she’d misunderstood.

  “Listen,” he said, his voice pounding, too. “I’ve been wanting to ask you. Do you, uh . . . maybe . . . want to go out sometime?”

  “Sure!” She blurted out her answer without thinking, her face bright from both pleasure and the heat of the run.

  “Great. How about a movie on Friday?” Luke asked. “They’re showing the 1970s version of King Kong at the Retro Metro. I thought it would be a kick.”

  “Definitely.” The minute she said yes, her stomach formed a knot. How was she going to get away with this? It was one thing to tell her dad she was studying with Heather on a Tuesday night, and then she and her friends would all sneak out to go shopping.

  But a real date? Luke might expect to come over, meet her parents, pick her up. What were the chances that her dad would be okay with any of that?

  “Excellent. Okay, I’ve gotta make time, or Robinson will axe me,” he said, powering forward. He sprinted ahead of her, waving over his shoulder. “I’ll, um, talk to you.” Then he turned down a path that was a shortcut through the woods, and was gone.

  Oh, man. Marianna was so pumped, she could barely keep herself from sprinting through the woods, leaping over fallen branches, darting past Jennifer Giles and two of the other fastest people on the team. So what if self-restraint was one of Coach Robinson’s five favorite “Power Words for Winners”? She didn’t want to restrain herself right now. She was going on a date!

  Somehow.

  “So what exactly did you do to get his attention?” Lisa Marie asked at lunch, when Marianna had told her friends what happened. “I need pointers here. I’m single again, remember?”

  “Nothing. That’s the problem. I have no idea what I did, so I’ll never be able to tell you. But if this doesn’t work out with Luke, I swear I’ll be dateless for the next ten years.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Heather said. “Any guy would be crazy not to want to go out with you.”

  “It’s fabulous,” Lisa Marie said. “I told you you’d have a date for the prom!”

  “Do you think?” Marianna didn’t want to get ahead of herself, but that’s what she’d been secretly fantasizing about all day.

  What if Luke asked her to the prom? It would be amazing, perfect, wonderful.

  But what if her dad wouldn’t let her go?

  “I’ll bet he’s going to ask you,” Lisa Marie predicted. “I mean, look at it this way. It’s prom season. Guys start to get fidgety. A lot of them are lining up dates already.”

  “Yeah, but Luke and I haven’t even gone out once yet,” Marianna worried out loud. “He might not be into me after he gets to know me.”

  “Not a possibility,” Heather said.

  “Well, even if he asks me, you know my dad. I’m lucky if he lets me out of the house to take out the trash! How am I going to talk him into letting me go to the prom at all—let alone with a guy?”

  “I know, I know,” Lisa Marie agreed. She chewed her finger. “You’re right, we’ve got prom issues. Plus Heather and I have no prospects. I’m seriously freaked about being single right now.”

  “We could say we’re all going to the prom together,” Heather suggested tentatively. “The three of us. Your dad would be okay with that, wouldn’t he? And if none of us gets dates, we can actually do it.”

  Marianna wasn’t sure her dad would buy it, but it sounded like the best shot she had.

  “That’s perfect,” Lisa Marie chimed in, clearly relieved she didn’t have to stress quite as much over not having a date.

  “Yeah,” Marianna agreed. “That might work. Maybe I can tell my dad that prom has changed, and now it’s a girls-only event. Do you think he’d buy that?”

  Lisa Marie laughed. “Tell him it’s a community service event. Just say we’re dressing up and going to a nursing home to read to the elderly and cheer them up.”

  “Yeah, and you’re getting a Girl Scout badge for it,” Heather added. “The prom badge.”

  Marianna tried to laugh, but nothing about her dad was too funny.

  Besides, Luke hadn’t even asked her to the prom yet. And maybe he wouldn’t.

  Definitely he wouldn’t—unless she could figure out a way to talk her Neanderthal dad into letting her go on one single date.

  Just one.

  By Friday.

  Chapter 3

  My best friends are nothing like me, Heather thought with a pang, getting up to clear her lunch tray a few minutes early. She’d been listening to Marianna and Lisa Marie ramble on about trying to snag dates for the prom for the last twenty-two minutes, and the strain was killing her.

  How long could she go on pretending to be interested in dating guys when she was so not into them?

  She scooped a pack of Saltine crackers into her lime green Marc Jacobs handbag, straightened her short little green and blue plaid pleated skirt (the best part of the St. Claire’s uniform) an
d left the lunchroom. The route she had to take from lunch to her locker to chemistry was the longest one in the school, up two staircases, around a corner, down another hall . . . blah, blah, blah. She hated to rush, hated to be jabbed and elbowed by the crush of people who were racing to make it to class on time.

  Better to leave early. That way she could take her time and engage in her latest favorite hobby as she strolled through the halls: staring at each and every girl at St. Claire’s Academy and wondering, Is she gay?

  Am I gay? Heather wondered for the hundredth time that day.

  For the past year, she’d been seriously considering that she might be. For one thing, how else to explain the fact that she just didn’t seem to be into guys at all? Some guys were okay—as friends—but she had no desire to get up close and personal with any of them. She had dated a few guys her sophomore year, and had made out with one of them. But it was like her battery was dead. She never felt that thing you’re supposed to feel.

  Girls, on the other hand . . . that was a different story. Lately, she’d been getting a definite buzz when she was around certain female people. Not Marianna or Lisa Marie, of course. That would be way too weird, practically incestuous. They’d been like sisters to her for as long as she’d known them.

  But other people . . .

  She caught Katie Morgan’s eye across the crowded hallway. Was she gay? Heather wondered. Hoped. On days when she admitted the truth, Heather knew she was developing a crush on Katie Morgan, but she had no idea whether it was pointless or not. How was she supposed to find out?

  It all started when what she called The Moment happened during a school trip last spring. The St. Claire’s Academy Chorale took a trip to New York City to sing with other elite high school choral groups at Lincoln Center. Marianna’s father wouldn’t let her go—big surprise—and Lisa Marie didn’t sing. So Heather wound up rooming with two girls she barely knew.

  One of her roommates was Serena Moss, a senior who was openly gay. Serena wasn’t exactly beautiful, but she carried herself with such utter assurance that everyone thought of her as gorgeous. Tall, with naturally copper red hair, she was surprisingly busty for a girl with slim bones. Heather, by comparison, was average height, a perfect size eight, with shoulder-length dirty blond hair and no reason to shop for a C cup.