“Did you get the map?” Drea asked before I’d even slipped into the passenger seat the next morning. “Why didn’t you call me back?”
Sam Goody had left me too dazed to return any of her phone calls.
“Cassie! This is Drea! Did you get the map? Call me back!”
“Cassie! This is Drea! You better have that map. Call me back!”
“Cassie! This is Drea! You better call me back! Call me back!”
So, the immediacy of her interrogation came as no surprise. I didn’t look forward to telling Drea about the outcome of my date-like transaction with my ex. But maybe I could cheer her up with the news that Sam and I hooked up?
“I made out with Sam Goody!” I gushed.
Drea tapped the brakes. “You did?”
“I did!” I bounced up and down like a candy-addled toddler.
“Congratulations! It’s about time you got some!” Drea double high-fived me. “He’s cute!”
“He is cute!” My voice was all squeaky in a way I was unused to hearing. “And he loved my new look.”
“Sam is the anti-Troy. Of course he loved it as much as your ex hated it.”
Then Drea literally and figuratively shifted gears.
“So. Did you hook up with Sam Goody before or after you got the map?”
I fiddled with the silver hoop in my ear instead of answering right away.
“About that…”
Drea snorted and took a speed bump about ten miles over the speed limit.
“I’m so sorry, Drea,” I said. “I realized, like, halfway into the dinner that I wouldn’t want to take the map from Troy even if he offered. I don’t want to be indebted to him in any way.”
Drea sighed and drooped wearily on the steering wheel.
“Couldn’t you have waited to take the moral high ground until after you got the map?”
“I—”
It was too late. Drea put the top down and the volume on the stereo way up. Between the synthetic throb of house music and the roar of the road, there was no way she could have heard my explanation even if I’d offered one. She preferred ruining her hair over listening to my excuses for letting her down. When we arrived at the mall, Drea swiftly exited the Miata, and I hurried to follow.
“I really wanted to find the treasure,” I said. “But not at any cost.”
“I get it,” she said curtly.
“I can still help you with the application to FIT.”
“Without the money, what’s the point?”
“We don’t even know if the treasure is real, Drea,” I reasoned. “But you shouldn’t let that stop you from applying. I promise I can get you financial aid and all that…”
If I perfected Drea’s application to FIT, she’d forget all about how I’d botched the treasure hunt.
“Are you one hundred percent sure you can help me get in?”
Any Mock Trial coach would tell you to avoid answering any questions requiring 100 percent certainty. There was no such thing. But …
“Yes!” I lied.
Drea didn’t want to let me off the hook that easily, but a barely there smile betrayed her gratitude.
“Fine,” she finally agreed with an overly casual shrug. “But you’ll have to work around my schedule. I’ve got two bridal parties and a bat mitzvah scheduled for this morning. You know I’m covering all the appointments while Ma works on the Back-to-School Fashion Show.”
I was only half listening as I unlocked the office door and switched on the light. In the battle for my attention, Drea’s academics were no match for sexual fantasies about Sam Goody.
“Of course! Of course!” I babbled, imagining what he looked like with his shirt off. “Whenever and whatever you want…”
We were so focused on ourselves—Drea on her busy day ahead of her, me on my busy night behind me—that it took a moment to register we weren’t alone in the office.
“Boo.”