Free Playing With Matches by Suri Rosen Page B

mind.”
    “Actually, you could let Mrs. Levine know that I’m pretty good on the computer. In fact, do you need my help?” I said, rolling my eyes in response.
    There was so much eye-rolling going on between the two of us that pretty soon we’d have to move this conversation over to the waiting room of the nearest ophthalmologist. Dahlia must have had the same concern because we switched to scowling and after a full minute of mutual glaring we established a silent pact to ignore each other.
    I returned to Matchmaven where there was an email from Jonathan.
Hey Matchmaven,
Thanks so much for setting me up with Ilana — can’t wait to meet her. I’m so sorry to do this but I have a midnight flight to Chicago, so I need to move the date up an hour earlier. Can you let Ilana know that I’ll pick her up at 7:00? Otherwise we’ll have to leave it until I’m back in town. Let me know as soon as you can, since I’ll be offline all day.
Thanks so much,
Jonathan Sandler
    I emailed back. No problem.
    Unfortunately however, there was a problem. Ilana’s email bounced back with an automatic, “out of office” message. The string of emails between us was generated from her work address.
    I emailed Jonathan but he was out of reach already. I examined Ilana’s email, which had her contact information, including her cell phone number, on the bottom. I had no choice so I texted her with the update.
Me: Matchmaven here. Change of time. Jonathan’s picking you up at 7.
Ilana: Can’t wait! Thanks for your help, Maven.
Me: Good luck!
    Mrs. Weiss was at her computer, showing the class something about library databases. Checking my inbox was becoming an obsession now that I had a mission to match Leah, so I peeked again and noticed another email. This one was a thirty-three-year-old female with a penchant for risk-taking. (“I need someone who really gets me. Like they should also enjoy off-trail skiing, urban tree-climbing, and running up the down-escalator in department stores. You see what I’m saying?”)
    Actually I didn’t. I shook my head and much to my surprise heard Dahlia giggling. She was reading my monitor.
    I glared at her. “Excuse me?”
    “Are you like a matchmaker or something?”
    My back went rigid; the muscles on my face taut.
    Dahlia shrugged and returned to her computer.
    My life was over. It was the way of the grapevine. Once Dahlia exposed me, news would migrate and travel and eventually Leah would find out and feel that I’d been lying to her, which I had been, but that’s beside the point. She would never ever trust me again.
    I had to admit the obvious — I was an idiot for checking the Matchmaven account in public. I could hardly blame her for glancing at a huge desktop computer monitor that was positioned twelve inches from her face.
    I can be so dumb. It was impossible for me to stay in the room. I signed out of my email, threw my papers into my knapsack, and lumbered to the front of the class.
    “Miss Weiss, I feel really sick. Can I leave?”
    “Of course.”
    I clomped down the corridor in search of some corner where I could crank up to maximum misery with minimum distraction.
    Somebody was following me.
    It was Dahlia. “What?” I said.
    “Are you coming back to class?”
    “No, Dahlia, I’m done , thank you very much,” I said.
    She stepped in front of me, blocking me, then folded her arms. “You have to come back. Like, immediately.”
    A shot of anger poked my chest. “Are you for real?” This is a person who took her babysitting responsibilities pretty seriously if she was now giving orders. “Do you have a problem?”
    “Actually, I do. My problem is Mrs. Levine,” Dahlia said.
    “Why, you going to lose community service hours or something?”
    “No. I’m just going to get called into her office — again — because I didn’t help you. And I’ll get harangued. Again.”
    “What are you talking about? You’re the poster child for the Levine Educational