Page 38 of My (Not So) Perfect Plan

“Come on, Raven. Evan?The Evan?Evan that Claire’s been crushing on since second grade?” Tamara says. She stuffs a tomato in her mouth and rotates her hand at me to continue.

“I did something really stupid.” I spend the next twenty minutes catching them up on all the drama that my life has turned into, including his Tina moment and my jerk move to not-dump-him right after his surgery.

Tamara is cringing by the end of it and waving her fork at me over her empty salad container. “Honey, that was horrible. True. But you apologized and that moment in the hall. Mmmmm…You can’t tell me he didn’t want some of your sumpin-sumpin.”

Raven looks over at Tamara like she’s crazy while he finishes off a can of coke. “Or maybe he’s just a player and wanted to let Claire know that he still has his mojo in place. Think about it. His ego has taken a major hit by the fact that he can’t pursue his dream. If he was enjoying Claire’s attention and then she ups and drops him, he’ll be hurting even more. It’s more likely that he liked having Claire around for how she made him feel, instead of liking her for her.”

“So the question is, does he like you for you or does he like you for what you do for him?” Tamara says, as if it’s the most mystical, profound question in the world.

“Um, hi guys. I don’t know if we’ve met before. My name is Claire Brown. I’m a skinny, plain, dweeb girl who has no life, buys her clothes from thrift stores, and has to stay nose to grindstone in order to make sure I achieve success and get out of the dump I’m living in.”

Tamara arches a brow at me.

“What?” I ask, dropping my eyes to my cold food. “Apparently you guys needed to remember who you are talking about when you speak of a guy like Evan and a girl like me.”

Someone kicks me under the table and I yelp. Raven is looking over my shoulder with a expression like he swallowed anegg and only just now realized it. Tamara looks just as horrified and in the same direction. Knowing who must be standing behind me and heard everything I just said, I pinch my lips, scoot my food off to the side and begin banging my forehead on the table. I am losing my mind. The universe hates me.

“So, Claire, about thetutoring….” Evan begins. He doesn’t bother sitting down. I sit up, wincing, my face on fire, and turn to him.

“Now that you have yourlicense,do you want to stop by my house after school?” His words are nonchalant, cold, and impersonal. His gaze is directed out over the lunch room as if he couldn’t care less, or can’t even be bothered to look at me, which is probably true. I am literally the girl who was the ego-stroker. I could be the title of one of those trendy novels, The Girl Who Was The Ego-Stroker, only on the front there would be a picture of me and the only people who would read the book are guys desperately in need of ego-stroking. Ugh. I am disgusted with myself and for myself.

“The library here is fine,” I say.

“Cool.” Without another glance in my direction or any sign that he heard what I said or even a glimpse of emotion, he moves away from us toward the lunchroom doors. Tina stomps up to him and pouts, laying a hand on his arm as they move out of sight. Ugh, again. She is welcome to be his ego-stroker.

“Did you see that?” Tamara asks Raven as the bell rings and she gathers up her trash for the waste can.

“Yeah.” Raven shakes his head. “I guess that answered that question.”

I’ll say, I think to myself, but I don’t need to hear the answer confirmed by them. I was the one who knew from the very beginning that a guy who acted like that was only doingso because he wanted his ego stroked. And yet I managed to be stupid enough to startlike, liking him. I don’t know why it is, but sometimes people being sympathetic has a way of making me feel even cruddier and more pathetic than I already feel.

We walk to our next class and the rest of the day passes in a blur. During committee meeting in one of my free periods, I pass out the tickets and sign up forms for senior students willing to help sell tickets to the gala and then emphasize how important it is that we keep records of who bought what and how much they paid. My hope is that some of the parents will be willing to donate more than the price of the ticket, thus bumping up the final campaign results.

Though I’ve been dreading spending another hour with Evan, I need the tutoring for the chapter we are going to be tested on in trig.

I’m waiting at a table in the library when I hear him come swinging in. I don’t look up because I’m obviously too busy sharpening a pencil, pulling out my book and notebook, and generally trying to look anywhere but at him.

He slings his back pack on the table and, after a beat, sits down.

“Claire,” he says by way of greeting.

“Carmichael.”

“It’s Evan. Only athletes call me Carmichael.”

I look over at him, preferring Carmichael just because Evan sounds so intimate. Color me old-fashioned. My face heats and I nod in recognition. “Okay,Evan.”

He slaps his hand on my trig book and flips it open to the chapter we’re working on. He’s all business, and as usual, he surprises me with his examples and trying to find different ways to explain concepts I don’t understand. I’m saddened by the brusque way he’s treating me when we had at least been friendly before he kissed me, but an hour flies by and before I know it, I have to rush away to get to my bike if I’m going to have a hope of getting to work at the PT clinic and changing on time.

At the entrance/exit to the street I’m waiting for traffic to fly by before riding across when the unmistakable sound of Evan’s truck pulling up next to me has me feeling all self-conscious. But I’m glad to see he’s driving again. It means his recovery is really going well.

“You’re going to be late for work, aren’t you?” he yells out the window, his eyes hidden behind a pair of black aviators that make my heart flutter.

I hesitate and then nod my head.

He nods to the back of the truck. “Throw your bike in the back and get in. I’ll give you a ride.”

He’s so perfunctory about it, like it’s no big deal and he’s just doing what anyone would do if they knew the circumstances and were in a position to help. I think only a second before giving in. It’s just a ride, right? How bad can it be?

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