my wildflower body spray this morning? Can't remember. I squirt a tiny bit of vanilla syrup into my palm and dab a bit behind each ear. Yeah, it seems a little gross, and quite frankly sticky, but it is here and fast, and, well, now I smell delicious. I quickly pinch my cheeks to give them some color. I don't actually think it will make me look any better, but my grandma always told me, 'Give your cheeks a little pinch whenever you are about to talk to a cute boy.' And Will is as cute as they come, so I pinch away.
'Are you okay?' Will asks, and I quickly take my hands away from my face.
What, did he fly across the store to the counter?
'Sure!' I say, grinning ear to ear. 'How are you doing today?'
He frowns slightly. 'I could be a lot better. I overslept and missed my math class. Then I failed my history quiz.
Not good.'
'I'm so sorry,' I say. 'At least Thanksgiving is tomorrow and you'll get a break.'
Will nods. 'That's true. What about you? Any special plans for tomorrow, Jane?'
'Just the normal family thing,' I say. 'My mom always hosts Thanksgiving.'
'That's sweet,' he says with a warm tone in his voice.
'We're not really doing the whole Thanksgiving thing.'
'Why not?'
'We all'–he points to himself and his friends–'got roped into some fraternity duties this weekend and can't go home. We're going to get together with a group of friends and just watch football games and order pizzas.'
'That sounds like fun!' I say. And I seriously mean it. I would so rather be sitting at Will's frat house eating pizza tomorrow instead of sitting next to my sloppy uncle Ed, who somehow manages to spill gravy on my shirt at every holiday meal.
'You're more than welcome to join us,' Will offers.
'Seriously?' I ask a little too eagerly. 'Yeah,' he says, and laughs.
Now I look like an idiot again. I really need to calm down. But this is almost a date!
'Well, here,' I say, shoving a piece of paper and pen at him, 'write down your info and I'll call you if I can get out of my family thing.'
Will jots down a phone number and passes the paper to me. I fold it up and slip it into my pocket.
The boys take their drinks and head for the door. Will pauses and turns back around. 'Maybe we'll see you tomorrow.
'Maybe,' I say. 'Niiiiice,' Sarah says. 'I know, right?'
Thanksgiving Day starts out just as I expected. Dad, Uncle Ed, Grandpa Turner, and my cousins Nathan (whom
I still haven't forgiven for the whole homecoming debacle last year) and Kevin are all parked on the couch in front of the TV watching football. Mom, Grandma Torreni, Aunt Sally, and my super people-pleasing cousin Susie are all cooking a ton of food in the kitchen. I don't know where to go. I don't want to cook and I hate football. I consider sneaking back into my room to read the new book I bought last week when I hear my name.
'Jaaaaaaaane,' my mom calls.
Oh crap. I head toward the kitchen. The silver fixtures and appliances gleam and the pumpkin-colored walls give the room a warm feeling. I stand outside the door, hoping that is as close as I will have to get.
'There you are,' Mom says. 'Come here and hold the turkey's legs apart so I can pull out the guts.' Mom is standing next to the sink holding on to the pimply-skinned legs of a gigantic turkey.
'What?' I twist my face in disgust. 'No way, that is so gross.'
'Jane, I need you,' Mom says in a stern voice now.
'Um, I'd really rather not.'
'I can help you, Auntie Cheryl,' Susie says, and I roll my eyes.
'No, Susie, you are elbow-deep in stuffing. Jane, NOW,' Mom orders.
I'm not going to get out of this.
'Oh, for god's sake,' I mutter under my breath as I join my mom at the sink. 'Fine, I'm here. What do I have to do?'
'Grab each leg with one of your hands and spread.'
'You are going to at least give me gloves to wear, right?' I ask.
'It's just a turkey, Jane. Now grab.'
I tentatively grab each of the turkey's legs in my hands and I swear I'm about to retch. The turkey totally looks like a big fat baby with its peachy wet skin. Its wings are both folded in close to its chest and I really think I am going to lose it right here on the spot. I turn my head and close my eyes.
'Okay, now spread,' Mom says. I yank the turkey's legs apart and I feel a little dizzy. I don't know why, but I turn back to the sink and open one eye to see what Mom is doing. Just then I see her whole forearm disappear into the turkey and then reappear with a mound of gushy red turkey innards.
'Oh, my god!' I yell. I let go of the turkey legs, cover my mouth, and run out of the kitchen to the bathroom.
I hear my mom sigh and Susie say, 'Don't worry, Auntie Cheryl, I've got it.'
But I don't even care. Let Susie hold the turkey's legs.
I'm so not going back in there.
After a moment of dry heaving over the toilet, I step to the sink and squirt three large globs of antibacterial soap onto my hands. I scrub for a few moments, trying to erase any evidence of the last few minutes.
I head to my room to think about what to do next.
Well, I'm certainly not about to eat turkey after what I've just seen. A smile spreads over my face as I remember Will's invitation yesterday and I decide to attempt slipping out and hitting his Thanksgiving celebration. I pick up yesterday's pants off the top of my laundry pile and search for Will's phone number. I find the piece of paper, grab my cell phone off my desk, and climb up on my bed to make the call. I dial his number, mentally preparing what I'm going to say as I hear someone pick up.
'I'm sorry, the wireless number you are trying to reach is not in service,' a mechanical woman's voice says to me.
'What?' I say. I take the phone away from my ear and look at it. 'That can't be right.' I hit END on my cell phone and then dial the number again. The same robot chick answers.
'I'm sorry, the wireless number you are trying to reach is not in service.'
I snap my phone shut and lean back on my pillows. I wonder what happened. Did his parents find out he failed his quiz and turn off his cell phone service? No, that would be overly dramatic, wouldn't it?
I hope he is okay. What if he got in a terrible accident? He could have been standing too close to the train tracks on his way home last night when he heard someone yell his name. Only it wasn't him they were calling: it was a girl named Jill. But it was too late; he turned too fast, lost his footing, and fell right onto the tracks. Before he could scramble off, WHOOSH! He was run over by the orange line! Oh, no. Poor Will. He's probably lying in a hospital bed somewhere calling out my name 'Jane ... Jane ... Jane ...'
But no. That doesn't make sense either. His phone would have just forwarded to voice mail if it had been squashed by a train. That, and I'm sure there probably would have been something on the news.
I lie on my bed for a few more minutes and then I sit bolt upright, suddenly feeling a little nauseated again. Did he give me a fake phone number? No. I mean, he wouldn't do that, right?
I try to read my book, which is really pretty good, but it doesn't take my mind off the whole Will phone number thing. I decide to go on instant messenger and see if there is anyone else online to talk to. I log on and a moment later see my buddy list window appear. I scan the list–Megan87, Beer-freakIII, HotButterKisses, and EM2009.
Yes! Em is online. I quickly send her a message.
