“No thanks, kid. I like black.”
We walked back to my aunt’s house slowly, strolling down Madison Avenue and looking in the windows at all the high-end boutiques. For some reason, I thought about Brendan, and wondered what he did on Friday nights. He probably had a girlfriend. Or girlfriends. Ashley had said he was a deejay on the side. I’d bet he spent his nights spinning in the VIP section of some club so exclusive, there wasn’t even a sign on the door, and model-like girls fell over each other to fawn all over him. I couldn’t blame them if they did.
I hated this. It wasn’t a crush so much; I didn’t daydream about him asking me out, or think about twisting my fingers into his messy hair—not that much. I was just so curious about him. I wanted to know him. What bands he liked. What movies he liked. If his mind ever wandered to me, as mine often did to him—like now, since I’d been thinking about Brendan and ignoring my cousin.
I tuned in to Ashley, who was squealing about something. “He winked at me. Winked!” she shrieked, going on about some upperclassman who shared a free period with her. “And on Facebook, he keeps sending me kisses and stuff. I mean, who does that? It’s so…cute.”
By the time we were getting into the elevator in Aunt Christine’s lobby, I had the full story. Her paramour was Blondo—and Ashley thought Anthony Caruso was the best thing since push-up bras.
“Ash, I don’t mean to make you feel bad, but only yesterday, he hit on—” I paused. No sense in making her feel like she’s in my shadow, right? “He hit on a girl in our class. I think he’s trouble. He got really nasty with her when she turned him down.”
“Oh, he’s just a harmless flirt,” she said dreamily, twirling as she stepped out of the elevator.
“I don’t think so,” I said, warily. “He’s pretty shady.”
Ashley turned and regarded me with serious, almost cold eyes. “I like him, okay? Just let me like him. Jeez, Emma, it’s not the end of the world.”
I knew that tone—that stubborn, “you can’t change my mind” attitude. I had inherited it from my mom, and she had inherited it from her dad—my mom’s brother, Dan. I sighed as I put the key in Aunt Christine’s front door, resigned to be on the lookout for trouble between Ashley and Blondo.
“Ash, I just think you should be care—” I never got to finish my sentence. Ashley squealed, spying something. She pushed past me and ran to the kitchen table.
“Finally!” she yelled, picking up a small object next to the Waterford salt and pepper shakers.
“A cell phone?” I squeaked, running over. I picked up the small yellow note that had been slid underneath the salt shaker.
I figured you should have one. The guy at the store set it up. Just please don’t call China on it. Have fun tonight. Love, Aunt Christine.
“Aw, she’s the best,” I murmured, stroking the shiny case of the phone.
“About time you had a phone!” Ashley exclaimed, grabbing the owner’s manual and flipping through it. “Quick, call me so I have your number. And then you can text me tonight and let me know if anything happens with Cisco!” I started to explain for the thousandth time that it wasn’t a date, but she pushed me toward my bedroom door. “Go, start getting ready!”
Two hours later, I had finished blowing my hair dry, flat-ironing it until it hung long and straight. My bangs, once merely in need of a trim, were now just long layers, hanging halfway down my face. At least it pulled my cowlick straight. I parted my hair on the left and tried to brush my bangs to the side. No wonder Ashley thought it was a date. I was acting like it was. I didn’t know why; I just felt like I had to look nice tonight. I was probably just nervous about being accepted by Cisco’s friends.
“You need less eyeliner,” Ashley critiqued, hovering over me as I sat cross-legged on the floor at the end of my bed, my makeup scattered around me as I peered into the floor-length mirror on the back of my door. “You should do something with bright color, like a bright green or bright pink, and play up your eyes. Really, they’re your best feature.”
“Hardly,” I griped, reaching for some more black eyeliner and applying it heavily before rubbing it in for a smoky look. “Everyone else in this family has blue eyes. Me, I get the brown eyes. The boring brown eyes.”
“No, they’re pretty,” she said, her own crystal clear blue eyes twinkling. She then flung herself on my bed, kicking her legs in the air. “They’re not brown. They’re lighter. They’re not hazel. I don’t know, I’ll come up with a name for it. Mink. Yeah. They’re mink!” She started giggling and I rolled my “mink” eyes.
“You’re a mink,” I shouted gleefully, and Ashley just threw a pillow at me.
“Whoa, better hurry up,” Ashley said abruptly, sitting up right and checking out the alarm clock on my nightstand. “It’s seven-twenty, and it’s going to take at least thirty-five minutes to walk up there.” I trusted Ashley’s New York sensibilities when it came to time. Since I knew I could walk everywhere, I estimated every destination to be about five minutes from Aunt Christine’s home. I was often wrong. And late. And ended up running everywhere. I finally get my driver’s license, and then move someplace where no one drives. Christine didn’t even have a license.
I reached into one of my cardboard boxes, still packed in the closet, and grabbed my black boots, pulling them on over my jeans.
“So, what do you think?” I asked.
Ashley scrutinized me for a moment. “Take off your necklace,” she ordered. “It interferes with the shirt’s neckline.”
I looked at myself in the mirror and saw the charm, hanging awkwardly over the straight boatneck of the shirt. She was right. But I never took off my charm necklace—it was one of the only things I still had from my brother. I pulled out the fabric and dropped the pendant between my skin and the shirt, so all you could see was the thin silver chain.
“Better?” I asked.
“Much. Now hold on.” She reached into her backpack and pulled out a small bottle.
“Hell, no!” I yelled, recoiling as I remembered the sickeningly sweet stuff she sprayed on me last time. “That stuff smells like munchkin sweat.”
“It’s a different fragrance.” She sighed, handing it over. I took a cautious whiff. Okay, this is actually nice. Very light. Beachy, almost.
I handed it back to her after spritzing it lightly around my shirt and hair.
“Now, you smell good,” Ashley said, smugly. “You’re no longer stinky.”
I gave my smirking little cousin a hug and smoothed out the front of my shirt. “All right, I’d better get going.”
Chapter 5
The air was brisk and I pulled my leather jacket more closely around me as I walked up Third Avenue, regretting not wearing a scarf or something warmer. I hadn’t realized how wacky New York weather could be—cold one day, warm the next.
I got to Ninety-first Street and pulled out my new cell phone to check the time. I was eight minutes late. For me, that was early. I looked around and realized that I was standing in front of a sandwich shop.
For a split second, I wondered if it was all a joke on me. That Cisco was watching me from across the street, laughing as the loser girl stood there, waiting for friends to show up who would never come. What a waste of a good flat-ironing job.
“Hey, chica!” A few minutes later, I heard the call from down the block and looked up. Francisco was walking closer, flanked by three friends.
Relief colored my face. “Hey, look, new cell phone!” I waved the phone at him.
“Yeah,