When I got to the San Gennaro festival, I drank in all the flickering red, green, and white twinkling lights. Whitney, Sophie, Kaitlin, and I gathered at the appointed spot in front of the Ferris wheel and waited for the guys. Ava had been too scared to sneak out; her parents are so strict, she would have needed a whole Tom Cruise Mission: Impossible harness to pull it off, Quantico style. Lucky for me, I didn’t even have to tiptoe or lie, I just told my parents I was heading out. But I knew everyone else didn’t have it that easy. I just hoped the guys wouldn’t get pinched making their respective exits. I still hadn’t been able to get ahold of Jake that afternoon, but I’d left a message telling him where to meet us.
After a few minutes, we could see Jake, Bobby, and Max making their way through the crowd in our direction. For some reason I felt my heart skip a beat when I saw them. I tried to tell myself it must have just been the pure adrenaline of being out late at night in such an exciting environment. But when I saw Jake, who looked so handsome in his dark blue peacoat and too-long chinos, I felt myself flush. He had such good style—preppy but with a tiny bit of edge—and probably because I was so interested in fashion, I always took note of how well he dressed. Instead of buying into that lame “I wanna be a rapper” look that every other guy thought was so cool, he went for a casual, almost retro vibe, where everything he wore looked just thrown on and not thought out, like layered long-and short-sleeve tees, Polo pants, cute sweaters. What I liked about it was that it wasn’t cookie cutter. He always had his own take on things. I realized I was looking too closely at Jake, who had given me a wide smile as he approached (with those cute crooked teeth!), so I turned away when the guys got closer.
Everyone in our posse enjoyed a group high-five with the boys for getting down unscathed, but before we could fully breathe easy, Jake’s cell buzzed that he had a text message.
“Damn,” he said, snapping it shut. “Josh was nabbed on the way out.”
“Uh-oh. With his parents, he’s headed on a Greyhound straight to Groundedville.” Bobby laughed.
Sophie turned to me and touched my arm comfortingly. “Oh, Laura! Don’t worry,” she said. “Are you so bummed?”
“What?” I asked, weirded out. “No, not at all.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you have fun without him,” Whitney added.
I saw Jake looking at me and I suddenly felt ridiculous—clearly he now thought I liked Josh just because Whitney had decided I should. I had made it clear to both Sophie and Whitney that I was so not into Josh. Were they trying to embarrass me in front of Jake? That really made me mad. I mean, I get it, I get it, they wanted to make sure I had no designs on their man. But they didn’t have to pawn me off on Josh to make their point.
“Yeah, Josh’s parents are super strict,” said Jake.
“My parents can’t imagine why I’d go anywhere below Thirty-fourth Street, let alone a gross street party!” said Bobby.
“Parents are clueless!” Sophie laughed. “Mine still think I’m a virgin!”
Whooooa. Shock and awe. I looked at Whitney, who appeared floored. Even with all her hookups, she had not gone there. I mean, Kaitlin, the sluttiest of our gang, had just started talking about maybe giving it up to Max over the next summer. It was mildly awkward as we all stood there contemplating her random announcement.
“So you guys, let’s go get some food!” I offered to distract the gang, but of course Sophie’s bombshell gave a whole new meaning to the sausages that hung from every stall.
After gorging on endless eats, I suddenly felt extremely ill. I guess my face bespoke this as I turned a pale shade of green post–Tilt-a-Whirl, and Jake noticed.
“You okay, Finnegan?”
“Yeah,” I responded, sooo not okay. “I just feel a little food raped. I don’t think you’re supposed to mix meatballs and cotton candy. I feel dirty and violated inside.”
“Maybe this really fast circular motion ride will make you feel better,” he joked sarcastically, gesturing to the line we were on. “If you want, I’ll sit this one out with you.”
“No, no, no,” I protested. “This is my favorite one. I love the spinny stuff. I’m doing it.”
Our group approached the spinning teacups and I climbed aboard.
“I can’t go,” said Whitney, backing away. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Me too, I’m not doing that death trap,” added Sophie.
But I was already in the teacup, and Jake climbed in right next to me.
Max and Kaitlin broke tonsil hockey. “Hey—we wanna come!” she squealed.
“That’s it!” the ride operator said, putting his hand out to stop them from getting in our teacup. “And we’re off!”
“So long, wimps!” Jake taunted as we took off flying through the air.
“Oops, sorry, guys!” I called. As we lifted off, I felt weird being with just Jake, but I saw Whitney and Sophie pointing at booths below, so I knew they were entrenched in their rager research.
We flew higher and faster, and I saw Jake’s eyes close.
“Are you okay?” I yelled.
“Yeah,” he responded, bracing himself. “The centripetal force takes a minute for me to get used to.” He opened his green eyes and smiled.
“Don’t worry. The worst thing that can happen is our pod breaks off and goes flying into that cannoli stand, crushing a Sicilian widow.”
“Thanks!” He looked at me and winked as we both screamed in unison with an outward spin.
A few minutes later, we got off the ride so dizzy that we looked like drunken sailors. Everyone was teasing us, laughing at our nerdy staggers.
“I feel nauseous,” I said.
“Oh my God,” Sophie said. “We had a totally brilliant brainstorm while you guys were on the ride!”
“Guess what we’re gonna do,” said Whitney. “We decided to just rent all the booths and have a mini–San Gennaro festival during the hors d’oeuvres in the first ballroom!”
“It’s gonna be beyond,” said Sophie, ecstatic.
“Cool,” I said, gripping my tummy.
“Come on, Sophie,” said Whitney. “We have to investigate. I want to hire some of these authentic people to come and man the booths. Let’s go!”
Okay, ew. It was one thing for Whitney and Sophie to blow their party up into a huge drama, but it was another to actually cast these carnies for fun—or decoration—for their tableaux. Between them, the chow, and the rides, I’d had enough.
I looked at my watch. “You guys, I’m so sorry, but I think I’m gonna have to peel off—”
“Laura!” Sophie said in a singsongy voice. “Bummer!”
“Sweetie, it’s okay, you go home to bed,” Whitney said, kissing me good night. “We’ll put you in a cab.”
“It’s okay, Finnegan, I’ll take you home,” Jake said. “I’m going to hit the hay too.”
Whitney and Sophie were visibly shocked slash let down by his departure.
“What do you mean?” Sophie asked Jake. “It’s still, like, so early!”
“Yeah,” said Whitney, twirling her hair. “I mean, there’s still two more blocks of festival.”
“Hey, it’s a school night, gimme a break,” Jake said, zipping his Patagonia jacket.
“You only live once,” said Sophie with a flirty tone. “You can sleep when you’re dead.”
“Then I’d be a zombie while I’m alive,” he said. “I’ll catch you later.”
I could see Whitney bite her lip. She wasn’t sure what to do. She sure as hell didn’t want Jake to leave, but she would never be forward about it. Sophie also looked upset that Jake was leaving, but I could see her relief that he was leaving with me and not Whitney.
Max and Kaitlin broke from their kiss. “Wait—Jake,” Max said, “we were just saying we should all hit Bowlmor Lanes on Saturday night.”
“Yeah, they have a great DJ spinning,” said Bobby.
“Sounds fab!” said Sophie, looking at Jake as Whitney watched. “Should we say seven?”
“Fierce,” said Jake, and turned to hail a lone cab down the block. “C’mon, Finnegan!” He took my hand and practically yanked me down the street into the taxi.
“Phew,” he said, turning to me once we were inside. “I’m glad you wanted to bail. I don’t know how I am going to get up in the morning. I have a soccer match on Randall’s before school. I am clearly toast.”
“I have to dissect a frog first period,” I remembered aloud. “That funnel cake is gonna be mid-esophagus.”
He smiled. “Classic Finnegan line.”
“What do you mean?” I blushed. Damn pale cheeks. Was he complimenting me or making fun? He just smiled.
“So what’s up with Sophie?” he asked with a slyly raised brow. “She’s really something, isn’t she?”
I felt myself deflate. So that was it. He wasn’t into Whitney, he was into Sophie. He clearly thought she was a hottie. I mean, who wouldn’t? She’s a blond stick with knockers.
“Sophie’s awesome,” I said honestly. “She’s so nice and really generous and a burst of energy all the time.”
“She really speaks her mind.”
“Yeah, I admire her balls-out directness. We really needed someone like that at Tate.” I felt semi-bad for building up Sophie when Whitney liked him, but hey, it was the truth. And even though I was fed up with them both today, they were still awesome.
“It’s strange,” said Jake, looking at the tree-lined twisting streets of Greenwich Village. “She and Whitney are such opposites. But you’re right, they’re both really fun girls.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, now trying to figure out which “really fun girl” he liked more. They both were full-on knockouts in their own way; Whit was a Ralph Lauren ad come to life, and Sophie was more of a Britney-esque saucy firecracker. As I was contemplating Jake’s choices, I saw him look at my dress, which had an Edwardian lace collar and a billowy knife-pleat skirt, all in ivory, with a black grosgrain ribbon I’d used as a makeshift bow belt.
“That’s a cool outfit, Finnegan.”
“Oh, thanks,” I said, looking down. “I made it myself.”
“Oh yeah, ha ha.”
“No, I really did.”
“You did?”
Uh-oh, did he think that was so loserish? “I know it’s sort of dorky, making my own clothes. It’s my hobby, I guess.” I looked out my window.
“It’s not dorky, I think it’s really cool. You’re an original.”
“Thanks,” I said, buzzing from the compliment. “My dad brought back this fabric for me from a conference in Jaipur.”
“That’s so thoughtful,” he said, staring out the window. “I doubt my parents even think of me when they’re away.”
“Do they travel a lot?” I asked, trying to keep pity out of my voice.
“All the time.” He paused. “So do you think Sophie is into Bobby? He really digs her.” Okay, abrupt change o’ subject. I guessed since he kept asking about Sophie, Whitney was not at the forefront of his mind.
“Um…Bobby? I don’t think so.”
“Oh. So, are you and J—?”
Just then I noticed the cab speed by my house. “Oh! It’s right there! I can get out here, sir!” We screeched to a halt and I opened the door. “Thanks, Jake. You’re awesome to get me home and make sure I’m not, like, hacked to pieces.”
“I’ll wait ’til you’re in the door in case the serial killer strikes.”
“Okay, thanks!” I got out and waved. “Good luck with your game tomorrow!”
I slammed the cab door and ran to our house. As I hopped up the stairs and scavenged my keys from my bag, I turned to signal safe entry and saw Jake give a salute from the rear window before the taxi pulled away. There was a fluttering sensation in my gut, as if I had swallowed a pigeon whole. Oh boy, I thought to myself. Jake is really perfect in every single way. “Shut up, Laura, shut up, Laura.”