“Too much of anything, even love, isn’t necessarily a good thing.” —Captain Kirk

CHAPTER THREE

Murder by the Sea didn’t have many customers after Dallas left, so I finished my homework, focusing my energy there instead of reliving Jake dumping me, or imagining Dallas bent over a cello.

I called Mom as soon as I’d locked up the store. “I have to run a quick errand before dinner.”

She sighed into the phone. “But it’s first-day-of-school dinner. Beach fries and hot dogs.”

“We’ll go as soon as I get back. I have to run to the Herb Cottage. You need anything?”

“Are you all right, Vivvy? Does this have anything to do with what a wreck you were after school today?”

“We’ll talk when I get back, okay?” I locked the door behind me, walking quickly down Main Street.

Shady Cove had been a major hippie/surfer town in the sixties and seventies and was still populated by a lot of those same people and their offspring– including me. Nothing I could ask would shock or repel Natasha, proprietor of the Herb Cottage, but I still felt anxious.

Natasha was in the back of the store talking to a customer in the age 50+ area, full of menopausal remedies and herbal Viagra. I headed to the all-natural cosmetic section and checked out cruelty-free lip gloss, putting in my ear buds so I didn’t have to listen to the guy describe whatever embarrassing old person disorder he had.

My cell vibrated with a message from Jaz. “We must talk. Amy saw u & snake after school.”

“I’ll call after dinner. Busy right now.”

Natasha and a balding older guy emerged from the back of the shop and I removed my ear buds.

“Vivvy, I’ll be right with you.” While she rang up the guy’s purchase I wondered if there was a natural remedy for baldness. That made me think of Captain Jean Luc Picard from Star Trek, The Next Generation, which made me think of Dallas, the main reason I was here.

I tossed the lip gloss tube back into the fishbowl. Not like kissing was in my immediate future, anyway.

Natasha looked like every other middle-aged hippie chick in Shady Cove with long, straight hair and wearing an embroidered blouse, probably from Nepal or some other place she’d visited with her meditation posse, which sometimes included my mom.

“What do you need, Viv? Did your mom send you for black cohosh?”

What the heck was that? “No,” I said. “I’m here for me.”

Her smile faded, replaced by her “wise herbal mage” expression. “Ah. So what are your symptoms?”

“Well…it’s…I guess kind of related to, um, puberty. Hormones. That stuff.”

She nodded knowingly. “Cramps? I have just the thing.”

I shook my head. “Not cramps.”

She tilted her head. “Is it moodiness? That’s very common, even for girls who don’t get cramps. That time of the month can be such a chal—”

“It’s not just once a month,” I interrupted. Even though I was mortified, the sooner I spit it out, the sooner she could give me a cure. I took a deep breath. “It’s more of a…chronic condition.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh dear. Have you talked with your mom?”

“No.” I bit my lip. “I can’t.” I didn’t want the anti-boy-crazy lecture from Mom. “Isn’t this kind of like doctor/patient confidentiality when I talk to you?” Natasha was in my Lonely Hearts book club, and I trusted her even though we didn’t always agree on books.

She tugged at her beaded necklace. “That depends. What exactly do you mean by ‘chronic condition’?”

I stared at my flip-flops. “Okay. This is embarrassing, but it’s …lately I’ve been sort of obsessed, and I don’t want to be. I mean, I’m in advanced classes. Newspaper staff. I’m not an idiot.” I looked up.

Natasha tilted her head. “No one said you were.” Concern wrinkled her brow. “At least I hope no one did.”

“No, they didn’t,” I replied, reassuring her. “But I’m acting like an idiot lately. And I want it to stop.”

She leaned against one of the bottle-filled shelves. “Vivian, sweetie, you need to be specific if you want my help.” Her patient smile was strained, and I realized how vague and idiotic I sounded.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m psyching myself up.” I took a deep breath. “Okay, so the thing is…it’s a boy.” I paused, picturing Jake. Then I pictured Dallas grinning down at me in his helmet. “Not just one boy. I’m, um, turning into one of the lobotomized girls. The ones whose lives revolve around guys. And I hate it! So I figure it must be the hormones, right? And maybe you have something to fix it?”

Natasha’s frown deepened. She was probably grateful I hadn’t confessed any creepy homicidal inclinations, though considering my mom’s profession that wouldn’t be surprising.

“Well,” she finally said. “I have good news and bad news. The good news is this is all perfectly normal. And this chronic obsession won’t last forever. Your hormones will calm down. Eventually.”

“Give me the bad news.”

She twisted a lock of gray hair around her finger, her smile hesitant. “I don’t have a cure for you, Vivian. You’re going to have to ride it out. Have you tried meditating? Or chakra balancing?”

I groaned. Nothing on the Shady Cove alternative lifestyle menu was going to cure my disorder.

The front door opened and a young mom entered, towing a wailing toddler behind her. Grateful for the distraction, I moved toward the door. “Thanks, Natasha, but I need to get home for dinner.”

“Come back any time, sweetheart. You might want to drink chamomile tea to calm your nerves. Maybe try some chaste berry or evening primrose oil.”

“Yeah, okay.” Her words barely registered as I made my escape.

If Natasha didn’t have a cure, no one did. Maybe she was right; I’d have to ride out this crazy rollercoaster of crushes and getting dumped and feeling used. Maybe it would get easier as I got older. Mom seemed happy with Paul, but I hoped I didn’t have to wait that long to connect with a decent guy.

As I walked home, I thought about what Jake had said about him being bored and me being available. Did I give off some horrible desperate girl vibe? Or was he that much of a jerk? Maybe never having a boyfriend made me especially vulnerable to the first guy who showed interest.

Even worse, maybe Jake could tell how infatuated I was with him and totally took advantage. I cut across the overgrown grass behind Murder by the Sea. If I were the heroine in a book I was reading, I’d tell myself to get a grip, to count myself lucky to be rid of such a jerk.

“Sprinkles on the donuts of life,” I muttered as I entered the kitchen.

Mom glanced up from her teapot. “What’s that, honey?”

“Oh, just reminding myself of your Mom wisdom.”

“You’ll say anything for cheese fries, won’t you?”

I grinned. “Yep. Let’s go.”

Mom grabbed her sweatshirt for the short walk to the restaurant and we said goodbye to our cat, who ignored us as usual.

...

Most of the other kids who’d dragged their parents to the Doghouse hot dog shack were much younger than me, but I wasn’t ashamed of my need for comfort food.

Mom ate a veggie dog while I ate a corn dog dipped in processed cheese. We sat outside bundled in sweatshirts since the evening fog was chilly.

“All right, Vivvy,” Mom said. “You’ve found every possible way to stall and avoid me. Now please tell me why you came home from school crying.”

I dipped a few fries into the cheese sauce and took a big bite. Mom narrowed her eyes, then pulled the basket away from me.

“Nice try,” she said. “Swallow that bite, then tell me or no more fries.”

I knew I was acting like a three-year-old, but how could I tell Mom about Jake without confessing to sneaking out to meet him? I wanted to confide in her, but I didn’t want to lose her trust.

“I don’t want to go into details.”

Mom frowned. “I need to know if you’re in danger, Vivvy. Being bullied. That kind of thing.”

“It’s not that.” I decided to tell her the general story without specifics. “Okay, so there’s this guy. And I thought he…liked me. A lot, I mean. But turns out he doesn’t.”

Mom’s expression softened as she reached across the table to pat my hand. “That stinks, sweetie.” Her frown returned. “But I don’t recall you going out with anyone over the summer.”

Uh oh. Time for a partial truth. “He’s, um, just someone I’ve had a crush on. For a long time.” I cringed inwardly as I thought of all the “J + V” doodles scrawled in notebooks, starting in the sixth grade.

“I could kill him,” Mom said cheerfully. “I need to experiment with a couple of different poisons to see how the body reacts.”

“Mom,” I whispered, glancing around to make sure no one overheard. “Not funny.”

She grinned. “I’m speaking metaphorically. But I do need to write a murder scene a few different ways, so I could use him as the victim. On the page, of course, nothing more.” She grabbed a fry. “If you’ll tell me his name.”

“Nice try, but I’m not telling you. Besides, it doesn’t matter. It’s over.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes, doing serious damage to the basket of carb heaven, then Mom spoke again.

“So Dallas is a nice boy, don’t you think? He’s smart and funny. He told me his family moved to Shady Cove because his mother threatened to leave his dad if she had to spend another winter in the Midwest.” Mom chuckled. “Not exactly a motive for murder, but it might have potential.”

The last person I wanted to discuss with Mom was Dallas. “He’s all right,” I mumbled. Mom cocked an eyebrow. She opened her mouth to disagree, but instead bit into a fry. We Galdi girls loved us some cheese fries.

Mom drank from her water glass, then cleared her throat. “About what you said earlier, about this boy who hurt you. Are you sure you can turn off a crush? I remember when I was your age. It wasn’t easy for me to turn my feelings on and off.”

So Mom had been a victim of hormones, too? Was no one safe from their evil power? “I don’t know, Mom. I wish I was a Vulcan, you know? Free of emotions.” I’d been thinking about Dallas’s Spock vs. Kirk question.

Mom’s lips twitched and she spoke in a deep voice. “Fascinating, this human obsession with other humans.”

“Pathetic Spock impression, Mom, but you get props for effort.”

After polishing off our food, we walked home talking about unimportant stuff, which I appreciated. I knew Mom’s intent was to distract me from thoughts of Jake, and it sort of worked, at least for a few blocks.

...

I lay in bed avoiding Jaz’s texts, watching an episode of the Star Trek original series on my laptop before I fell asleep. As I listened to Spock deflect Kirk’s manic freak-outs with his Vulcan proverbs, I wondered how Spock would handle my situation.

What would Spock do if he couldn’t control his obsessions? I shifted my pillows to get more comfortable. He’d deal with it logically. I closed my eyes, imagining a conversation with him.

“I think you’ve confused lust and love, Vivian. Humans often do. What you felt for Jake wasn’t love. Search inside your human heart for the truth.”

Of course he was right. I’d read enough romance books that I should know the difference. But some hot guy just had to lure me to the beach, apparently, and I forgot everything I knew about what real love should feel like.

“Perhaps you should stop looking for true love, Vivian. Satisfy this hormonal urge with a harmless crush.”

Give up on love, Spock? Really?

“I recommend carefully selecting the object of your crush, rather than falling victim to your irrational hormonal condition.” His pointy ears twitched. “Perhaps the problem is not in the crush per se, but rather in your lack of control over it.”

I shivered under my comforter. Maybe Spock was right. If I couldn’t control this hormonal imperative to fall in lust and/or love with somebody, maybe I should focus my attention on someone harmless. Someone boring, to trick both my hormones and my heart.

“Also,” Spock continued, “it would be wise to avoid young men who are only interested in…physical connection. Perhaps you should be more selective in the future.”

He had a point. If only I could flick a Vulcan switch to turn off my feelings and my hormones.

What I needed was a Jake replacement.

A replacement crush.