Peeled by Joan Bauer Page B

you and Zack?” Tanisha turned her Honda onto Red Road and drove toward the high school. “And don’t say ‘nothing,’ Hildy, because that’s not going to cut it. You know what I’m talking about.”
    “He’s the research director.”
    She drove past a FOR SALE sign for one of the orchards that now said SOLD . “He’s been around long before that. Tell me. And by the way, you’re blushing.”
    “I don’t blush,” I said. “And keep your eyes on the road.”
    “I’m the one who doesn’t blush, girl!” We started laughing. “You do not have the right to remain silent about this issue,” she insisted. “You like him, don’t you?” She turned into the parking lot and avoided the first of three huge potholes.
    “I don’t know.”
    “Hildy, he’s not a Lev or a Nathan.”
    “He’s a scientist.”
    “And?”
    I didn’t want to talk about this. “He’s helpful.”
    “And?”
    “Brainy guys are helpful.”
    “And your relationship is
what
?”
    “It’s complicated,” I said.
    “I’m going to need more than that, Hildy.”
    Okay, you asked for it.
“Zack and I fight evil together.”
    That stunned her to silence.
    Colorful brochures started appearing around the high school—in the cafeteria, on seats in the library, on car and truck windshields in the parking lot. The cover had a close-up of a girl’s big blue eyes; across the top in curlicue writing were the words
    A New Look at Bonnie Sue Bomgartner
    Inside, the brochure showed Bonnie Sue’s most meaningful moments—looking gorgeous while working at the St. Claire soup kitchen, looking stunning while collecting canned goods for the poor, looking perfect as a baby, toddler, kindergartner, etc.
    Bonnie Sue breezed past me in the hall, waving hello like we were close friends. She was campaigning round the clock for people to vote for her as Homecoming Queen.
    The other contestants, Lacey, Chelsea, and Jackie, didn’t have Bonnie Sue’s big-pocket funding. As president of the horticulture club, Lacey tended the apple trees on the school property and ran programs that brought inner-city kids to the country to learn about rural life. She didn’t honk her horn about it, she just did it. Lacey said that if elected, she was coming to the dance alone, since she didn’t have a boyfriend and she didn’t believe in dredging one up for show. Every unattached student threw her their support.
    I walked to the Student Center and grabbed a ballot from the back table.
    If you don’t vote, your voice won’t be heard.
    I skipped Bonnie Sue Bomgartner’s name and put a fat X by Lacey Horton.
    I dropped my ballot in the box and noticed my two former boyfriends, Nathan and Lev, watching me. My relationship failures crashed in like waves.
    Finding a good boyfriend was like trying to find a ghost.
    Or Sallie Miner’s father. I’d finally drummed up thecourage to start calling the eleven Lawrence Miners on the list I’d compiled from the Miami phone book. I’d called ten names and hadn’t found him. The three men I’d spoken to weren’t very friendly. I left messages for the others; no one called me back.
    I went to
The Core’s
office and called the last Lawrence Miner on my list, number eleven.
    “Hello,” a man answered.
    “Is this the home of Lawrence Miner?” I asked into the phone, trying not to sound like a telemarketer.
    “Yes,” the man said hesitantly into the phone.
    “Mr. Miner?”
    “Who is this?”
    “This is Hildy Biddle, sir. I live in Banesville, New York.”
    “Mitch Biddle’s girl?”
    “Yes.”
    “God, I haven’t talked to anyone from Banesville for years.”
    I found him!
    “How is your dad doing?” he asked.
    “Oh…” I sighed. “He’s not doing so well, Mr. Miner. He died a few years ago.”
    Silence, then, “I’m so sorry, Hildy. Your dad was a great guy.”
    I bit my lip. “I guess you and I have losing someone we love in common.”
    “I guess we do,” he said sadly.
    I told him why I was calling,