"Worst, yeah." I screwed up my face. "How is it the best?"
"Keeps you in the friend zone. Gives you the chance to show him what a good person you are. Then, down the line, when they break up ... well, who knows?"
Her words circled through my brain.
"And the cherry on top, Mads? You don't have to see them all over school, all over each other, like last time."
She was so right. At that moment, I could almost forget my pea-soup green envy over Jenny. "Oh, Linzee, have I told you recently how much I adore you?"
I could almost feel the warmth of her smile through the phone line.
Regaining Hayes's respect filled my head the next day at school. While cruising toward the cafeteria, I went with an impulsive decision to pop into the guidance office. Mr. Last was between appointments and agreed to see me.
"I know colleges are looking for diversity and leadership in their applicants," I began, practically repeating Hayes's words. "But say you were president of a small club. Would that be as impressive as being the president of an established one?"
Basically, should I use what influence I had to round up new club members to help Hayes look more important?
Mr. Last steepled his fingers on his desk. "You're absolutely right about diversity and leadership. Funny, I had a conversation like this yesterday, a senior who told me about a new club to honor our town and wanted to know how to best play his participation."
I felt my brow arch. He couldn't be talking about Hayes.
"I pointed out that being a founding member can be even more important than size or elected status. It highlights innovation and independence, two other traits highly favored by admissions committees."
Now my head was really spinning. "I'm in that new club, too, along with Hayes Townsend."
"So Hayes did join. Good. For both of you."
Moving like a sleepwalker in the halls, I didn't know what to think. I let my black ballet flats propel me down the hall. The door to room 112 was wide open.
"Hey there," she said when I poked my head in. Mrs. Puglisi was eating a salad at her desk. "Come on in."
I slumped in a first-row chair.
"Slow start with our club yesterday, Maddie. But it'll pick up, I'm sure." My face must have looked as shell-shocked because it sure sounded like Mrs. Puglisi was trying to reassure me. "I think we need to agree on an initial element to focus on first, something that will get people's attention." She mentioned a sports star who called Applewood his hometown and the resurgence of Main Street. "Why don't you and Hayes kick around some ideas to present at next week's meeting?"
I nodded as if that was going to happen. "Actually, I'm wondering if you could tell me how he knew about this club. Did you mention it to him like you did me?"
"My mother did."
I blinked several times, although it was my ears I was pretty sure that had failed me. "Nana?"
"One-on-one in a quiet environment is really the only way she communicates these days, and whenever he was the first to show up at the pool, he'd spend time chatting with her."
The idea of Hayes hanging with Nana sure rocked my boat. Score another point for him being an all-around good guy.
But that didn't change the fact he'd lied to me about Mr. Last. In fact, it proved it. What was I missing?
FOR ONCE, LINZEE DIDN'T have any insights into Hayes's motivations. Talking on the phone that night, we focused on Emory's upcoming weekend home. But when a screaming siren announced the arrival of an ambulance out front, I promised Linzee a callback and hit the ground running. My parents were at a franchise fair, investigating options for their shop space, so I locked up on my way out.
A crowd was forming on the sidewalk across from the Puglisi house as I rushed through the cool night air. Ambulance doors had been flung open while paramedics wheeled an empty gurney up the walk.
Spying Hayes, I made a beeline for him. Nothing about us--past or present--mattered now.
"Is it Nana?"
Dressed in a tee, gym shorts, and a frown, he nodded. "Don't know if it's a heart attack or stroke or whatever."
I opened my mouth to try to say something supportive, but all that came out was a gasp.