days.
“Mad?” Lisa asked. “Are you busy or something?”
“Nope,” I said. “Totally free.” I unlocked Judy and got behind the wheel. “Meet you at Stubbs in fifteen?”
“ À tout à l’heure! ” Lisa said, and hung up.
I smiled, started the car, and headed out of the parking lot.
CHAPTER 9
----
Song: I Saw It On Your Keyboard/Hellogoodbye
Quote: “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Then quit. There’s no point in being a damn fool about it.”
—W. C. Fields
----
“So then,” Nate said to me from my computer screen, “I said, ‘You can threaten to take away my parking permit, that’s fine, but I still have no information to give you.’ And then I did my best Nicholson and told him that sometimes, pal, it’s just better not to know.”
“You didn’t,” I said, smiling. I was sitting on my bed, laptop on my lap, and I leaned back against my headboard. “Really?”
Nate was smiling, too, looking a little embarrassed. “I did,” he said. “But it’s okay. I don’t think the headmaster is much of a Chinatown fan.”
Nate and I hadn’t been able to get together at lunch, or after school, or after dinner, so we had resorted to late-night iChatting.
“I can’t believe they’re getting this upset over the prank,” I said, taking a sip of my CFDDP—that is, Caffeine-Free Diet Dr Pepper. I didn’t touch the hard stuff after eleven.
“I know,” Nate said, his smile fading. “I have the feeling that I’m on pretty thin ice these days.”
“But you’ll be fine,” I said as confidently as I could, especially since I didn’t like how worried he was looking. “Right?”
“Right,” Nate said, giving me a small smile. “Here’s hoping. How was your day?”
“Oh,” I said lightly. I wasn’t about to burden him with Kittson’s demands or the Schuyler weirdness or the possibility that I might have tried on a cursed tiara. “It was fine. But I have a favor to ask you,” I said, suddenly remembering the fairly dire music situation.
“Yes,” Nate said immediately.
I smiled at him, feeling it take over my face. “I haven’t even asked yet,” I said.
“What, like I’m going to say no to you?” he said. “I don’t see that happening.”
“Anyway,” I said, trying to stop smiling so wide. I could see myself in the small window that showed my side of the conversation in the upper left-hand corner of the screen, and it was a little ridiculous. “Here’s the thing—”
“Yes,” Nate said again, cutting me off.
“Stop it,” I said, laughing. “Okay. So. The DJ—”
“Ah, the estimable DJ Tanner,” he said, his smile widening. “What now?”
“Well, he’s asking me for prom playlists so that he can get an idea of what to play. He’s never been to a prom. He’s just a sophomore.” I wasn’t entirely sure that Tanner would have gone to a prom even if he had been a senior, but I left that out for the moment.
“That’s a quality DJ you’ve got there,” Nate deadpanned.
“Well, he’s what we could afford,” I said. “Kittson spent the music budget on flash drives.”
“What?” Nate asked, looking perplexed.
“Oh, you’ll see on Saturday,” I promised. “So anyway, since you’ve been to a prom…” I took a deep breath, trying to push past the thought of what he might have done after his prom with a girl named Melissa. “I wondered if you could make me a playlist of prom music? Just to give Tanner something to go off of?”
“Sure,” Nate said easily. “I’ll do it tonight and e-mail it to you.”
“Thank you,” I said, smiling at my boyfriend, feeling incredibly lucky. Though it would have been preferable to be with him in person—when there could have been kissing—I liked seeing him in his room, a tiny bit rumpled. I felt like Nate sometimes had his guard up, and it was nice to get a glimpse of him totally relaxed, in his own environment. “So, um,” I said, trying to begin to broach the questions
“Mad?” Lisa asked. “Are you busy or something?”
“Nope,” I said. “Totally free.” I unlocked Judy and got behind the wheel. “Meet you at Stubbs in fifteen?”
“ À tout à l’heure! ” Lisa said, and hung up.
I smiled, started the car, and headed out of the parking lot.
CHAPTER 9
----
Song: I Saw It On Your Keyboard/Hellogoodbye
Quote: “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Then quit. There’s no point in being a damn fool about it.”
—W. C. Fields
----
“So then,” Nate said to me from my computer screen, “I said, ‘You can threaten to take away my parking permit, that’s fine, but I still have no information to give you.’ And then I did my best Nicholson and told him that sometimes, pal, it’s just better not to know.”
“You didn’t,” I said, smiling. I was sitting on my bed, laptop on my lap, and I leaned back against my headboard. “Really?”
Nate was smiling, too, looking a little embarrassed. “I did,” he said. “But it’s okay. I don’t think the headmaster is much of a Chinatown fan.”
Nate and I hadn’t been able to get together at lunch, or after school, or after dinner, so we had resorted to late-night iChatting.
“I can’t believe they’re getting this upset over the prank,” I said, taking a sip of my CFDDP—that is, Caffeine-Free Diet Dr Pepper. I didn’t touch the hard stuff after eleven.
“I know,” Nate said, his smile fading. “I have the feeling that I’m on pretty thin ice these days.”
“But you’ll be fine,” I said as confidently as I could, especially since I didn’t like how worried he was looking. “Right?”
“Right,” Nate said, giving me a small smile. “Here’s hoping. How was your day?”
“Oh,” I said lightly. I wasn’t about to burden him with Kittson’s demands or the Schuyler weirdness or the possibility that I might have tried on a cursed tiara. “It was fine. But I have a favor to ask you,” I said, suddenly remembering the fairly dire music situation.
“Yes,” Nate said immediately.
I smiled at him, feeling it take over my face. “I haven’t even asked yet,” I said.
“What, like I’m going to say no to you?” he said. “I don’t see that happening.”
“Anyway,” I said, trying to stop smiling so wide. I could see myself in the small window that showed my side of the conversation in the upper left-hand corner of the screen, and it was a little ridiculous. “Here’s the thing—”
“Yes,” Nate said again, cutting me off.
“Stop it,” I said, laughing. “Okay. So. The DJ—”
“Ah, the estimable DJ Tanner,” he said, his smile widening. “What now?”
“Well, he’s asking me for prom playlists so that he can get an idea of what to play. He’s never been to a prom. He’s just a sophomore.” I wasn’t entirely sure that Tanner would have gone to a prom even if he had been a senior, but I left that out for the moment.
“That’s a quality DJ you’ve got there,” Nate deadpanned.
“Well, he’s what we could afford,” I said. “Kittson spent the music budget on flash drives.”
“What?” Nate asked, looking perplexed.
“Oh, you’ll see on Saturday,” I promised. “So anyway, since you’ve been to a prom…” I took a deep breath, trying to push past the thought of what he might have done after his prom with a girl named Melissa. “I wondered if you could make me a playlist of prom music? Just to give Tanner something to go off of?”
“Sure,” Nate said easily. “I’ll do it tonight and e-mail it to you.”
“Thank you,” I said, smiling at my boyfriend, feeling incredibly lucky. Though it would have been preferable to be with him in person—when there could have been kissing—I liked seeing him in his room, a tiny bit rumpled. I felt like Nate sometimes had his guard up, and it was nice to get a glimpse of him totally relaxed, in his own environment. “So, um,” I said, trying to begin to broach the questions
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