Free Crazy in Love by Dandi Daley Mackall Page A

again.
    Sandy wants to stay with me, but I shove her toward the still-ringing phone. She answers it. “Hello?”
    I get to my knees and concentrate on getting my breath back.
    “Yes,” Sandy says to the phone. Without taking the phone from her lips, she turns to me and shouts, “It’s a boy!”
    Still on all fours, I reach out for her to give me the phone.
    She doesn’t. “Marwyjan? She’s my sister.”
    “Bring me the phone, Sandy!” I cry. My wind has nearly returned, but I’m still shaken. I sit where I am, on the floor, on top of the popcorn kernels. “Give me the phone!”
    “She spilled her popcorn,” Sandy’s telling the phone.
    “Sandy!” I shout.
    “You can talk to her.” She starts over to the couch but still has the receiver to her ear. “We’re watching ‘Scooby-Dooby-Doo, where are you?’ ” She sings this part.
    When she’s close enough, I grab the phone out of her hand. “Hello?” I’ve forgotten to use my sexy voice, so I say it again, “Hello?”
    “Mary Jane?” It’s a boy. But it’s not Jackson.
    “Yeah?” I kind of snap at the guy on the other end because he’s not Jackson. And now I realize that my chin hurts. My left elbow and knee have rug burns.
    “It’s Brad.” He waits, as if anticipating applause, doesn’t get it, and goes on. “So, had any good pizza lately?”
    I can’t figure out why he’d call me. “Not really.” I want to ask him why he’s calling. Then I have a thought. Maybe he’s calling for Jackson. Why else would he call me, when he’s never even nodded at me in the halls?
    “So . . .” He coughs, and it sounds fake, a nervous cough. “When are you coming out for the team? We can hold try-outs just for you. Say the word.” He laughs, and it’s as fake as his cough.
    I want to cut to the chase, to make him admit that Jackson put him up to calling me, that Jackson wanted him to ask . . . ask what? What if I’m wrong? And even if I’m right, I have to play it cool. “I’m there, soon as you get those new outfits,” I say, going for light and witty, and sexy and confident. “I suggest sienna. Goes great with my eyes.”
    “You got it,” he jokes.
    I can’t stand this much longer. Sandy is glued to the TV. I’m sitting in popcorn. “What can I do for you, Brad?” I ask.
    That’s my girl! M.J. cries. Take control! Take charge!
    Two boys call you in one night? Plain Jane is highly suspicious. Now I know this is all one big prank. Besides, isn’t Brad going with Colleen?
    “I was thinking,” Brad begins, “maybe we could get together tomorrow night.”
    I’m blown away. “You . . . and me?”
    “Yeah.”
    He’s not calling for Jackson. Brad is calling for himself. “Don’t you have a game tomorrow night?” I ask, because it’s the first thing I can think of. And it’s lame. Guys go out after the game.
    “Yeah,” Brad says. “And then I kind of . . . well, I kind of made plans already for right after the game.”
    Told you so! Plain Jane ’s screaming. He’s got a date with Colleen already! So why is he asking you for a date when he’s dating Colleen?
    Good question.
    “Let me get this straight, Brad,” I begin. “You already have a date after the game, right?”
    “But I could take her home fast after that,” he says quickly. “Then you and I could get together.”
    "Get together,” I repeat, hoping this isn’t what it sounds like.
    “Yeah!”
    “After your real date,” I add, as the picture comes into focus and that cold-pizza-sauce feeling returns with a vengeance to the pit of my stomach.
    “Yeah!” Brad sounds thrilled that I get it. His grand plan.
    “And let me guess. This would be our little secret, right?” I’m praying that he’ll say “Wrong!” That he’ll be outraged that I’ve so grossly misunderstood his intentions.
    “Right!” he says gleefully.
    “Wrong!” I hang up on Brad, so hard the phone rattles.
    This can’t be happening. Not to me.
    Did he really think I’d agree to