Valentine's Day Sucks

“And the corn?”

“Same thing. No problems. I already forwarded you the spreadsheet.” I stood and picked up my laundry basket full of dirty clothes. Doing laundry was a lot less boring when I talked on the phone. Besides, I needed some clothes to pack for Dad’s.

“I can’t believe it.” I heard a touch of the shy child in his voice.

“Well, believe it. You just found a way to feed ten times as many people at the food bank.” I grinned. “If there’s a nuclear war, I definitely want you in my bomb shelter. We’d never run out of canned food.”

“Do you realize what this means?”

“Yeah, I just said so.” Padding down the stairs, I tried not to drop the phone or the laundry.

“I took two charms and blended them, and came up with a third. And it works. The possibilities are endless.”

“Amazing, isn’t it. Whoever gave you the idea?” I gave myself a mental pat on the back for clearing the laundry room door without dropping anything.

“You did, you big dork.”

The idea had come to me about two months ago. I figured that he might be able to mix his spells like I mixed my potions. “Big dork? Or brilliant dork?”

“Neither,” he said. “Thanks for the idea. But the spells were all me.”

“I’m proud of you.” A quick check told me the washer was empty. I dumped my jeans and darks into the machine.

“My parents are going to flip out.”

I pictured Milo’s parents. “They’re going to be really proud of you.” His mom ran a food bank, and his dad was a youth minister. They didn’t use magic much, but they wanted Milo to master his spells.

“I’m not going to tell them yet.” I could almost hear Milo rubbing his hands together like a genius hatching a plan. “I’m going to run out later and multiply all the food at the food pantry. Then, she’ll find it when she opens in the morning.”

“Do it. It’ll be great.”

I could hear his smile as he spoke. “I think I will. Tell your dad thanks for me. You’re so lucky to have a scientist for a dad.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up your dad.”

He knew I wasn’t dealing well with the separation situation. “It’s okay. I am lucky he’s a scientist. I just wish I were lucky in some other ways too.”

“I forgot to ask you. Did you try that potion to multiply food?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. Next stop, the kitchen for some caffeine.

“I take it that your potion didn’t work.”

“It worked.” I’d turned one small can of asparagus into a big restaurant-sized container. Like the world needed more asparagus anyway. “The asparagus had a funny taste though.”

Milo gagged into the phone. “Asparagus. How could you even tell it didn’t taste right?”

“I couldn’t. Obviously. I had my mother try it.” We were down to one can of Coke. I hoped Mom was on top of the grocery situation.

“Are you sure it tasted funny?”

“My mother has very reliable taste buds.” She did. Even if she did eat something as gross as asparagus.

“Too bad. We could have done a lot between the two of us.”

“You still can.” I popped open the can and chugged.

“Hang on,” Milo said. A few seconds later, he was back. “Zoe. I have to go. It’s Darlene.”

“Darlene?” I tried not to show my surprise. “Isn’t that the cheerleader you like?”

“Yeah.”

“You dog!” I teased. “Good luck.”

“Bye.” He hung up.

I pushed end. Milo really liked this girl, but I never thought she’d like him. Oh sure, he’d changed since elementary school. He’d grown to almost six feet and slimmed down. And he’d gotten contacts last year. I knew he looked good, but I didn’t trust anyone to appreciate him like I did. As a friend of course. I’d never considered him as anything other than a friend.

Darlene apparently had. I groaned. If Milo started dating Darlene, I’d be the last of my friends to find a boyfriend. Well, in Milo’s case, a girlfriend. I really didn’t like the idea of being last, or put succinctly, the biggest loser of all my friends.

***

“I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” Dad said later that night when he picked me up in his Prius. “I think you’ll like her.”

“Okay,” I said. I just didn’t feel like telling him that I knew her yet. I didn’t feel much like talking at all. I pretended not to notice that Dad had dressed up in a nice sweater with his khakis instead of his usual sloppy, untucked shirt.

“And, she told me she has a son your age,” he said as we plodded down the road at exactly the speed limit. “The way she talked about him, I’d assumed he was younger. She doesn’t look my age at all.”

How much aftershave had Dad used? “I know him,” I admitted.

“What?” He turned his attention from the road to me.

“I know her son.” He’d find out anyway. “He dated my best friend.”

“Well,” he said, clearly surprised. “It’s a small world.”

Too freakin’ small for my taste.

Dad glanced over at me. “So, he’s a good kid?”

“He’s okay,” I said with a shrug.

“Because we’re going over there for dinner tonight.” He sounded excited about it.

“Great.” The way to my dad’s heart totally was through his pudgy stomach. He was so into gourmet cooking. Jake’s mom was a real estate agent, so their two-story house was really nice. I’d been there lots of times.

The sad thing was that I’d always thought my mom and Jake’s mom would get along. Now, I was heading to her house with my dad. So much for that friendship.

“Are you okay with this?” Dad asked over the tick-tick of the turn signal.

I knew I should hate him, but I just couldn’t. He didn’t mean to ruin my life. I guess he couldn’t help it. Being nice sucked. Anya was always telling me to work on being bitchier. She had a point. She’d always been high maintenance and she got what she wanted.

“It’s fine,” I said, glancing out the window as Dad turned onto a side street.

At least I knew things couldn’t get worse.

***

I learned how wrong I was ten minutes after getting to Jake’s house. We were in the kitchen, helping with the salad, when he said, “So what do you think about Camille?”

I just looked at him and pretended he hadn’t stabbed me in the heart. Anya was right. He was interested in Camille—another one of my best friends. “She’s great,” I admitted, working to keep my voice neutral.

“I was thinking about asking her to the dance.” He kept slicing the tomatoes. His over-sized hound, Indiana, sat on his haunches begging for scraps.

Of course he was. “Great.” Oops. I might have missed neutral on that one. I concentrated on washing the lettuce.

He stopped and looked at me. “What?”

“What what?” Two could play that game.

“You don’t sound like you like the idea,” he said and put down the knife.

“No. I just...” Why did life have to be so complicated? I turned to meet his gaze. “Do you like her or are you just asking out one of Anya’s friends to get to Anya? I mean Camille has feelings too.”

His eyes widened. “My God, Zoe. Do you really think I’d do that? I’m not mean.”

He and I had spent a lot of time together. With Anya, of course. “I know.” Great. I’d insulted him.

“I haven’t decided about Camille anyway,” he said. “I wanted your opinion.”

“Do you always ask your mother’s boyfriend’s daughters for opinions about your love life?”

He looked hurt. “No,” he said. “I do ask my friends though.”

Okay, now I felt like a real creep. “I’m sorry, Jake. I… This whole thing with our parents is totally stressing me out. And then there’s Anya and Brad, and you and Camille, and I…” I sh

ook my head and turned off the faucet. “I just need a break,” I said, turning to him.

His green eyes softened. “I know what you mean.”

“You do?” Why did he have to be so hot?

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I’ve got an idea. Let’s ditch the parents and go to a movie.”

Getting out of here would rock. “We can’t do that, can we?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know why not. They’d probably rather be alone anyway. Plus, they don’t ask our opinions on every move they make.”

True. They made all kinds of plans without asking us. My spirits lifted. “Let’s do it.” I snatched a piece of cheddar and gave it to Indiana.

Chapter Three

Jake was right. Neither of them protested too much. And we got a twenty from each of them. Ten minutes later, Dad dropped us at the theater.

“Text me when you pick the movie, and let me know what time it lets out,” my dad said. “You can ask the usher.”