Free Hard Love by Ellen Wittlinger Page B

us, a wimple in her hand. A mother chased her down the aisle.
    “Emily, give me your costume. We don’t want it to get soiled before Friday night.”
    So Emily stood there disrobing while Brian introduced us. She had on a very short skirt (for a nun) and green tights over her thin legs, which gave her a Peter Pan-ish look.
    “I’m so glad to finally meet you,” Emily said. “Bri talks about you all the time.”
    “No, I don’t!” Brian said.
    Emily blushed. “I don’t mean all the time, or anything. So, are you coming to the play this weekend? I hope!” I could tell she was basically kind of shy, but so excited about the play, and about having a boyfriend and everything, that she was pushing herself forward more than she ordinarily would have. Brian grabbed hold of her hand like it was going somewhere without him, the kind of proprietary move that always aggravates me. You are mine !
    “Yeah, I guess so,” I said. As long as I couldn’t see Marisol this Saturday, what was the point of going into Boston at all? To be with dear old Dad? I was glad to have an excuse to stay in Darlington this weekend.
    “Friday night or Saturday?” Brian asked.
    “I don’t know. Does it matter?”
    “After Saturday’s show there’s a cast party. But if you go on Friday, we could hang around afterward or something.”
    There was a thrilling thought. They’d be giddy over the success of the play, and I’d have to listen to them recap all the little backstage traumas. “Did you notice when the lights came on too soon? Doodah couldn’t find her so-and-so and she had to go on …” Besides, they were a couple now. Three’s a crowd.
    “I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to let you know.” Surely I could come up with some … lie. Man, I’d been lying more since I promised Marisol I wouldn’t than I ever did before.
    “You need a ride home, buddy? I’ve got wheels,” Brian bragged. Wheels. He couldn’t just say “the car.” Of coursenot. Brian was walking the borderline of cool now; he was approaching the wall of coolness with a blow torch.
    “Sure. You can drop me off. Where do you live, Emily?” I asked.
    “Um, just about a block from here. But Bri drives me anyway.” She glanced at him sideways.
    “Of course I do. And we take the long way.” He tucked her hand in his jacket pocket, so he could find it again when he needed it. I only lived half a mile from the school but I wasn’t at all sure I could stand to be in the car with the two of them for that long.
    After I strapped myself in the back seat, I worked on becoming invisible, but Emily turned around politely. “So, John, who are you asking to the prom?”
    God. I knew Brian had gotten an affirmative answer to the Big Question, but I thought I’d made my own feelings on the subject clear to him. “I’m not going. I’m not much for school activities.”
    “But Brian said we were doubling with you! We don’t know who else to double with!”
    “I never said …”
    Brian looked at me in the rearview. “John, we talked about this. Remember? The thing is, none of Emily’s close friends are going. I mean, they’re freshmen; they don’t have upperclass boyfriends.” Emily wriggled happily in her seat; she had one. “And you’re my best friend,” Brian continued. “Who else would we go with?”
    Best? Only would be closer to the truth. “You need a chaperone? Why can’t you just go by your …”
    “Oh, that’s no fun!” Emily shouted. “I mean, it’s a party. You want to be with friends!”
    Jeez, Emily, calm down. “There’s nobody for me to ask. I don’t date anybody.”
    “Maybe Emily could fix you up with one of her friends. This weekend. Then if you liked her …”
    “Yeah!” Emily was dancing all over the front seat, her hair smacking Brian in the face. “What a great idea! My friend Jessica! You’d love her! Don’t you think, Bri? She’s really cute and—”
    “Wait! Hold on! I don’t do fix-ups …”
    “Yeah!