Chapter 3

“That is very true,” replied Elizabeth, “and I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.”

— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume I, Chapter Five

By the time Jane and I hauled our butts upstairs, I was nearly comatose. After exhausting my entire repertoire of witty reasons why it was a Good Thing to be rejected by a black-eyed toad like Alex Darcy—hey, I didn’t even want him—I collapsed on my bed and stared at the ceiling.

Jane was bouncing on her bed. “Charlie is so funny and sweet.” Blah blah blah. She didn’t mention his dancing, luckily, because I don’t love even Jane enough to let that one by. “Wasn’t he nice to Mrs. Jacobson?”

“She offered him a hunk of raspberry fudge. Even Dad would’ve been nice.”

“But still.”

I threw my pillow at her. “You’re forgetting the most important thing. He’s hot.”

It wasn’t the most important thing, but I didn’t have a clue how to broach the stalking bit. Alex Darcy had to be a paranoid jerk for even thinking Jane could be stalking Charlie. Guys go after Jane. But how did Jane keep running into Charlie? Rachel was more my friend than Jane’s, so Jane wouldn’t be hanging out at Rachel’s condo. Was she using a tracking device? Or maybe, more directly, her cell phone?

I glanced at Jane, who flushed as she clutched the pillow. “He kept asking me to dance. I mean, how flattering.”

I couldn’t help picturing Charlie’s wild gyrations, but I kept a straight face. Unlike Alex, I was feeling charitable.

“Duh. You were the cutest one there. Except for me, of course.” Jane snorted. On Jane, even snorting sounds cute. When I do it, I sound like a pig in heat. I took a deep breath, wishing I could be okay with the thought of Jane hooking up with Charlie. I wasn’t. “Are you going out with Charlie?”

“Liz! He hasn’t asked me!”

“Maybe because his sister was hovering?” Alex, too, but I didn’t want to talk about Alex. “You don’t like her as much as Charlie, do you?”

“Actually, she seemed sweet.”

Jane likes everyone. And I mean everyone, no exception. But she’s really like that. The real deal. I can’t help loving her for it, even if it means that I spend way too much time protecting her from snakes. But Charlie isn’t a snake, I don’t think, and Jane wasn’t planning to date his sister.

I got up to retrieve my pillow, then patted Jane on the shoulder. “You might be right. Personally, I thought Stephanie was a twit.”

“Liz!” Jane looked askance but then gave me a sly smile. “You just didn’t like her skinny butt.”

“You forgot the perky boobs, although I have doubts on how real they are. What’s your point?”

We both laughed. Then Jane shook her head. “Stephanie seems smart, actually, so I think you’d like her. She went to Vassar last year, but she’s taking a break and living with Charlie, at least for now—”

“At the condo?”

Jane shrugged. “What did you think of Alex?”

I blinked at the sudden change of subject. “His name is way too close to The Book.” I gave her a meaningful look. “Besides, he’s no Colin Firth. Or even Matthew Macfadyen. And he’s probably gay.”

I hadn’t shared with Jane my earlier gay-drug-runner hopes for Charlie, but anyone that blond and angelic couldn’t be a drug runner, and he was too whipped on Jane to be gay. Unfortunately. Besides, it’d be better if Alex were the gay drug runner. He had the black hair for it, and the oh-so-black eyes. Or deep brown. I didn’t want to get close enough to tell, thank you very much.

Jane hooted. “The guy is hot and definitely straight. Admit it. But he might be a bit shy.”

“Shy? Is that what we’re calling jerks these days?”

“He’s not a jerk. Seriously. I don’t think he likes to dance—”

I rolled my eyes. “At least not with me.”

“—but I saw him checking you out. And he talked a lot to Stephanie.”

Who had the hots for him, I noticed, even though everyone knows that girls with bony butts are lousy kissers. Well, girls all know that.

Not that I cared if Alex and bony-butt Stephanie were locking lips. Besides, something about Alex annoyed me, and not just the stalking thing. Like, say, his eyes. Or the way his butt looked in jeans. Or the lopsided grin I saw him give Charlie once.

I frowned at Jane. “Where do they all live? I mean, when they’re not using that condo?”

Jane waved a hand in the air. “I’m not exactly sure.”

Or she wasn’t exactly telling me. “But they’re going back wherever it is, though, right?”

“I think we’ll be seeing more of them. I mean, I hope I—er, we—keep running into Charlie.”

Seeing the dreamy smile drifting across her face, I figured she’d spend the rest of the night mooning over every nuance of the sweet and cute Charlie. Before she could mention the adorable freckle on his left forearm, I leaped back onto my bed and stuffed my pillow over my face.

Because his last name is Bingham and his friend’s name is Darcy and the whole stupid thing was making my head spin. I hoped I didn’t puke into the pillow.

At the crack of dawn Sunday morning—okay, ten a.m.—Rachel showed up at our door, just like old times. She hadn’t been swooned over at the block party by Charlie or Alex or anyone else, but she wasn’t the type to care. Rachel copes.

“I saw you talking to Charlie Bingham last night, Rachel.” Mom glanced over her shoulder at Rachel, offering a tight smile. “What did you think of him?”

“I didn’t talk to him much.” Rachel grinned at me. “He seemed to spend most of his time with Jane.”

“Well, no one cares how I feel about it...” Mom trailed off, inserting a big sigh to fill the void.

I rolled my eyes. “Mom, it’s not a big deal.”

Dad looked up from his newspaper. “Don’t worry, Lizzie. Even if Alex Darcy didn’t notice you, I’m sure your mother worries about any number of unsavory boys liking you, too.”

Rattled, I slammed back a gulp of juice, half of it sloshing onto my Coldplay T-shirt. I jumped.

Rachel patted my shoulder. “Who cares what Alex thinks? I mean, the guy doesn’t even speak. I watched him for fifteen minutes and never saw his lips move.”

I watched his lips, too. Nice lips. Not that I’d admit it.

Jane piped up. “I told you, Liz. He’s just shy.”

“Shy? The guy drives a black Lamborghini. I don’t think the two concepts coexist.”

“Thanks, Rachel.” I raised my slopped-over juice glass to toast her. “You’re being supportive, right?”

“You don’t want him, Liz, any more than Jane should want Charlie.” A forkful of eggs halfway to her mouth, Mom stopped talking long enough to look at me, tsking over my T-shirt. “If you ask me—” And when it came to dating, no one did. “—even if he asked you out, I’d cut him off at the knees.”

Groaning, I shook my head. “There’s an easy one, Mom. I think I can safely promise that he’ll never ask me out.”

“But if he did?”

“His knees are history.”

I didn’t want to ponder his knees, though. The more body parts of Alex Darcy I didn’t think about, the better off I’d be.

After the first month of classes, I figured out that engineering professors like to torment freshmen by piling on homework and springing pop quizzes. The combination left me too frantic to think about Alex, which was good, but too busy to keep tabs on Jane. Which wasn’t so good.

I don’t know what English professors do, but Jane seemed to have plenty of free time to keep disappearing on me. Was she seeing Charlie? No clue. I mean, he didn’t show up at our door. If he was emailing or texting Jane or calling her latest cell-phone number, she wasn’t admitting it.

But she still had a goofy smile on her face.

I tried to ask Rachel for advice, or at least sympathy, but she was too intent on lugging boxes of stuff from their condo to the rental truck her dad had parked in front. After I asked at least five times, she gave me a weird look and said they were taking all the stuff they didn’t need to Goodwill.

“I don’t get why you didn’t haul this stuff to Goodwill before you moved in.” I paused in the lobby, breathing a little hard as I shifted my grip on a big box. “Wouldn’t that have been easier?”

Rachel grunted. Sweat dribbled down her flushed face, and the pile of rugs and coats in her arms threatened to topple her. “Dad doesn’t exactly think things through.”

No kidding. Mr. Langdon was a brilliant inventor who could never remember where he left his car keys.

I shrugged. “I guess he doesn’t have to. He can afford to buy a place in the most luxurious condo building in Woodbury, and he has us for slave labor. Perfect deal.” I laughed as I nudged open the door with my shoulder, holding it for Rachel.

She looked thoughtful as she slipped past me. “I miss our old house. I wish...”

“Yeah, you wish you were still living next door to us, so you could drop in whenever you want for all those fab home-cooked dinners my mom makes.”

Rachel glanced over her shoulder at me. “Your mom doesn’t cook. At all.”

I made my way out to the curb, where I set my box in the truck before turning to help Rachel. “Not true. She cooks. It’s just inedible.”

“Well, she can’t be good at everything.” Rachel tossed a gorgeous black designer coat I could’ve sworn her mom bought a month ago on top of the heap. “She’s a successful lawyer. You don’t have to worry about your parents running out of money.”

I frowned at her. “You’re kidding, right? What about my dad? And Jane having to come home from Carleton?”

“Carleton is expensive. My mom doesn’t work at all.”

I kept staring at the black coat in the truck, trying to work up the nerve to swipe it from the pile, but it was like stealing from the poor. Even if it wasn’t always the poor who shopped at Goodwill.

“Yeah, well, your mom doesn’t have to work.” I turned my back on the coat and headed inside, Rachel trailing me. “The royalties your dad gets on his inventions obviously more than make up for it.”

Back in the lobby, I glanced around again, comparing the marble floor with the frayed oriental rug in our front hall at home. I’d actually rather live in our own house than in a fancy condo building that didn’t feel like a home, and maybe Rachel felt the same way. I smiled, thinking about all my grand plans for getting an apartment someday, if I could somehow swing the money and get Jane to stop focusing on guys all the time. It’d probably be some dinky little apartment that made my house look like the Taj Mahal.

“What’s so funny? My dad’s stupid inventions?”

My jaw dropped as I stared at Rachel, who leaned against the elevator button, her arms crossed, her mouth...grim?

Huh?

I shook my head. “I was just thinking about getting an apartment. You know. When—”

“When you don’t have to watch over Jane. When you’ve got enough money. Whatever.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Quit worrying about Jane. She’s a big girl, and Charlie’s a nice guy. There are worse things in life.”

“Like?”

“Like my life.” The elevator dinged, and Rachel hurried inside, not looking at me.

As I stared at her ramrod-straight back, something told me not to ask. Even though she lived in the Taj Mahal. Even though she didn’t have to worry about anyone but her. Even though I’d known her forever and knew she had a great life.

For starters, Jane Austen hadn’t already written it.

I spent the next couple of weeks trying to keep an eye on Jane and Charlie, with no success, which actually gave me hope that Charlie had gone back to wherever he’d come from. Jane alternated between moping and giggling almost hysterically, and kept disappearing for hours at a time, so I had a feeling we hadn’t lost Charlie yet.

Tonight, as Rachel and I walked back to a Halloween costume party at Rachel’s condo building after a last-minute run to a store for ice, I mentioned the possible romance.

She looked at me like I’d grown three heads. “I’ve seen Charlie and Jane together, but...”

“You’ve seen them? Charlie’s still in town?”

“He comes and goes, but when I see him, it’s usually not long before I see Jane.” Rachel shook her head. “How does she do that? I mean, zero in on the cutest guy around, then dump him a month later. Don’t guys figure her out?”

“In a word? No. They all want to hook up with her.” Even guys named Charlie Bingham, who, if they read The Book, would start running. “Not that she’s actually hooking up with Charlie. Not that way. I mean, we’re talking about Jane.”

Rachel and I had had more than a few rap sessions about the likelihood of Jane’s virginity. Rachel considers it a no-brainer. But then, she assumes that most girls save themselves for marriage, or at least until Channing Tatum looks them up. I haven’t had the heart to set her straight.

Rachel breathed hard. Her Halloween costume consisted of a black cape and a Darth Vader mask she bought at Target, and it had to be cutting off her air supply. “Well, if she likes him, she should go for it. Jump his bones.”

I nearly ran into a tree. “She hasn’t even admitted they’re dating.” I glanced sideways at Rachel. “And I don’t think bone-jumping is high on Jane’s strategy list. If she has a strategy list, I mean, other than finding Mr. Right.”

“That’s Jane’s problem. She needs a strategy.”

Rachel dated less than my sister Mary. You’d have to know Mary to appreciate this, but we’re not talking vast experience. We’re talking the proverbial tree falling in the forest with no one around to jump its branches.

“She doesn’t need a strategy. Guys fall all over themselves to go out with her.” None I’d ever be interested in, but I told myself that was a good thing. No conflicts. “I’m sure Charlie knows she likes him.”

Alex had noticed, obviously. Was he still worried about Jane being a stalker?

I started to run a finger around my collar, forgetting that I’d taken a white bedsheet and turned myself into a tube of Crest toothpaste. I hit the white tagboard I’d shaped as a screw-on cap, knocking it halfway off my head.

After readjusting it, I fell silent, thinking about Jane. Normally, guys came to her, and I’d never seen her so intent on “running into” a guy as she’d been with Charlie. Had all my warnings actually pushed her into it?

I didn’t think so, but I couldn’t really talk to Rachel about it. She wasn’t a Pride and Prejudice fanatic and never understood my family’s fixation on it. Rachel was more into science fiction. Maybe if Charlie’s last name was Skywalker, it’d make more of an impression on her.

We reached the brightly-lit condo building and clunked our way through the lobby and into the elevator. I nearly did a face-plant when we reached the party room.

Alex, wearing a Shrek costume, stood at the door.

I barely said “hi” as I lumbered past him in my tube of Crest toothpaste and didn’t give Alex another thought. Well, except whenever he spoke to Stephanie Bingham, who was dressed as a hooker—I mean, a French maid. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about Alex. Or Stephanie and her underwires.

Inside and across the huge party room, which was decorated with dozens of wildly carved pumpkins and lit with orange and black Japanese lanterns, Jane was dressed as Belle, and Charlie was her Beast. I guess the lovebirds were seeing each other more than I’d known. They were already coordinating outfits.

I tried to keep an eye on Jane and Charlie, but Alex kept getting in my way. No matter who talked to me all night, I swear Alex was right behind me, taking notes.

After the fifth conversation he’d bugged, this time when Jane took a break to giggle in my ear, I decided to flat-out confront the jerk. The minute Jane left my side, I whirled on Alex. “What’s the matter? Are you worried my sister is stalking me or something?”

“No, not that she’s stalking you.” I thought I detected a glimmer of a smile on Alex’s face, but then, it could’ve been gas. “You don’t seem like the type who’d let someone stalk you.”

“But Charlie’s the type?”

Alex flinched. “Not willingly. At least, not usually. But your sister is cute, and then there’s the Bingley-Bennet thing—”

“Bingley-Bennet?” My turn to flinch. Alex couldn’t possibly be worried about The Book. I couldn’t believe he’d even read it. “Don’t you mean Bingham-Bennet? Charlie’s name isn’t Bingley.”

“But mine is Darcy. And yours is Bennet. And this is so not happening.”

My lips twitched. Alex annoyed me, and I still thought “toad” when I looked into his eyes, but something actually bugged him: my name, The Book, and maybe even fate. Too funny.

He leaned forward, and I don’t think it was to sneak a peek down my Crest toothpaste costume. “You know, we could work together on this. Team up. Keep Jane and Charlie apart.”

Alex and me? Work together? Even if I wanted to keep Jane and Charlie apart—which was more about getting an apartment than avoiding fate—did I dare play any “team” sport with Alex? Bad idea.

I rolled my eyes while trying to avoid his oh-so-dark ones. “Jane isn’t stalking him, and I don’t see how we could team up. Last time I checked, you didn’t do charity work.”

Zing. I could’ve sworn his green Shrek face turned bright pink.

Rachel stepped to my side just as I contemplated yanking off one of Alex’s ugly Shrek ears.

“Liz.” Rachel grabbed my elbow. “Sorry, but Dad wants you to show off on the piano.”

Alex leaned forward, probably pressing the “record” button on his secret microphone.

Ignoring him, I whispered in Rachel’s ear. “If I wanted to show off for Alex Darcy, it wouldn’t be on the piano.”

This time he definitely smiled.

I trudged off to the baby grand, grumbling to Rachel the whole way, but just as I started to sit down, my sister Mary slid onto the piano bench and pushed me off the far end.

Mary is a junior in high school who acts about ninety. She spends half her life practicing piano, but all she plays are dirges. After Mary played something that sounded like Requiem for a Dead Skunk, I moved as far away as I could, landing in the unlucky vicinity of Rachel’s dad and Alex.

Norm Langdon was droning on to Alex, who kept trying to edge away. Mr. Langdon just shuffled along with him, probably thinking it was a Halloween game.

“Isn’t this an excellent party, Alex?”

Alex blinked. There just wasn’t a good answer to Mr. Langdon’s question. I mean, even Alex isn’t enough of an ass to say the party took a nosedive when Mary Bennet hit the piano.

I must’ve snorted, because Mr. Langdon called to me. “Liz, why aren’t you dancing?”

As he spoke, the Ramones started blasting on the speakers, squelching Mary’s latest funeral hymn. “Uh...”

Mr. Langdon turned to Alex, who’d been trying to slither away. “Alex, you know Liz, don’t you? Dance with her.”

Right. Even though no one else was dancing. Even though Alex thought Jane was stalking Charlie. Even though his last name was Darcy and I didn’t want The Book to be My Life.

Alex grinned at me, which felt like a straw slamming into the camel’s back. So I smiled right back but mumbled that I had a previous engagement. With the bathroom. As a tube of Crest, I could stay in there all night without raising eyebrows.

I scooted away as fast as my costume allowed and slid around the corner. The bathroom was occupied, so I stayed in the hall.

“Alex.” A pseudo-sultry voice soon hit my ears. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Yeah? I doubt it, Steph.”

“You’re thinking what I am. That the parties in this town are d-u-l dull.” I snickered quietly. I wasn’t even an English major and I could see that Stephanie had a few spelling problems. Vassar? No way. “I’ve never been so bored.”

“Nice try, but I was actually thinking about someone with a wicked, uh, sense of humor.”

I heard a strangled gasp. “You’re kidding. Who in this place could possibly have a sense of humor? Most of these losers have trouble stringing together a simple sentence.”

And spelling. She’d forgotten about all the bad spellers.

Alex chuckled. The guy could laugh? “No one you know.”

Startled, I fell sideways, banging my head—and toothpaste cap—against the wall. Did he mean me? He’d followed me around all night, listening, then talked to me about “teaming up.” Was that code for hooking up? I slumped to my knees, got twisted in my Crest outfit, and prayed desperately that Alex and Stephanie wouldn’t take a peek into the hall.

They didn’t, and I was saved. For now. But Alex liked my sense of humor? Next thing I knew, maybe he’d start noticing my lips!