Free Rhymes With Cupid by Anna Humphrey Page A

wouldn’t their ticks be busy nesting, watching deer tick TV, playing miniature games of deer tick poker, or doing whatever deer ticks did to pass the time until summer?
    “If I pick out a card for him,” Dina said, “and maybe some balloons, would you mind bringing them over to his house for me? I’d owe you big.”
    “Of course I wouldn’t mind,” I said. “You know I’m always happy to help you flirt.”
    I couldn’t get over it. Dina had now let an entire two days pass without texting Damien back. It was a new record, and despite my weird reaction to the news that she and Patrick had exchanged numbers, I wasn’t about to discourage her.
    In retrospect, the only thing I wished is that I’d encouraged her to go with a nice “get well” decorative mug, or maybe a personalized smiley face key chain to cheer him up. Anything but the huge bunch of green helium balloons she put together, which I spent the next half hour trying not to bonk strangers on the head with as I rode the bus home. In fact, by the time I got to our street, I couldn’t wait to get rid of the stupid things. I was planning to go straight over to Patrick’s place to give them to him and to find out how he’d mysteriously contracted Lyme disease in February, but my mom was just pulling into the driveway. She got out of the car and started waving her arms frantically.
    “Elyse!” she called. “Come into the house. Bring your balloons. We have to celebrate. You won’t believe what happened to me at work today.”

Chapter 7
    M y mom made me take off my coat and come into the kitchen before she’d tell me anything.
    “You should sit,” she said, pulling out a chair. My mind was racing, trying to figure out what could have happened at work to make her so excited. Did she get a massive raise? Did spa management already order her the new, ergonomically correct chair she’d asked for? Did Meg Ryan walk in off the street and give my mom her autograph before making a bikini wax appointment?
    “No, no wait. You should stand up,” my mom said. “No. Wait. It doesn’t matter. I’ll just tell you.” She practically squealed. “We’re going to Mexico!”
    “What?” I asked.
    “Cancun, Mexico.” She pulled a brochure out of her purse and slapped it down on the table. I immediately recognized the bikini-clad couple on the front, sipping their neon-pink drinks. They were the same ones who’d taunted me while I shivered in the bus shelter outside the mall. “The resort is called Hotel Del Mar. It’s a five-star facility. Ten days, nine nights, all expenses paid. They call it the ‘Sweetheart Retreat,’ but you don’t need to be a couple to go. Sun, sand, and surf. We leave the day after tomorrow.”
    “What?” I said again. The news she was trying to tell me didn’t make sense in so many ways. Mexico? The day after tomorrow? Five star? Us? As in me and my mother, whose last vacation—I don’t know how many years ago—had included driving three hours down the highway to this dodgy-looking theme park called StoryBookLand, and staying at a motel that reeked of cigarettes and had no air-conditioning?
    “I won the grand prize trip!” she exclaimed. “In the staff appreciation day raffle!”
    “What?” I repeated. It was as if all other words had left me.
    “I know!” she said. “I never win anything.” Neither of us did. It was like a family curse. Half the time when I was a kid I didn’t even get the prize the cereal box promised.
    “I didn’t even buy a ticket, and I still won.”
    “What?” I said, then caught myself, adding, “I mean, how is that possible?”
    “It was Valter.”
    “Valter? Valter Big-ass-kiss?” I asked. My mother shot me a disapproving look, but then gave in and smiled. I mean, she’d just won a ten-day trip to Mexico. Who wouldn’t be in a better-than-usual mood?
    “He was in line behind me at the coat check, and he asked if I’d bought my raffle tickets yet. I told him I didn’t think