Complete Nothing Page 3

  “I’m so nervous!” Claudia said, raising her tiny shoulders as we walked.

  “About what?”

  “Tonight’s the night!” She skipped once. So frickin’ cute. “I’m gonna find out if I got the audition!”

  She slipped through the opening in the fence ahead of me, and I paused for a second, my heart dropping. The audition. Right. Claudia had sent in an application to this prestigious dance program right outside Princeton for next year. The hope was, she’d get into her dream school and her dream dance program and they’d be within walking distance of each other. Suddenly my chest was heavy with dread. If she got this audition, it would be a sign. Because if she got the audition, she’d get into the dance program. And if she got into the dance program, there was no way she wasn’t going to get into Princeton. After tonight, she could be one step closer to getting everything she wanted. And everything she wanted would take her away from me.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Claudia

  “Can I get you guys anything else?”

  The waitress at Pizza City stood at the end of our table, smiling at Peter. She was a girl from school, a junior I was pretty sure, and she was always here. I think her family owned the place, but I wasn’t sure what her name was. What I did know was that she wanted my boyfriend. Of course she did. Everyone wanted my boyfriend. He was Peter “QB-1” Marrott. But this girl was making it totally obvious, with her sly half smile and by the way she was leaning one hand into the faux-wood table, pushing up her boobs by angling her triceps against one of them. Why didn’t she flirt with Gavin? Or Orion? Or Peter’s annoying friend Lester? One of the guys at the table whose girlfriend wasn’t sitting right next to him.

  “You can get me something else,” Lester said, leering at her.

  Well, okay. I understood why she didn’t flirt with Lester.

  She stood up straight and sighed, looking down her nose at him. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  Lester Chen’s skinny face turned purple. “Oh, um, nothing. I was just kidding.”

  The girl looked hopefully over at Peter again. I leaned in closer to his side and looked her in the eye. “Thanks. We’re fine.”

  Emphasis on the “we’re.” She gave me this look, like she couldn’t believe I was sitting there with him even though we came in here together twice a week, every week. Then she finally, finally walked away, flipping her weirdly orange hair over her shoulder.

  I tugged Peter’s large class ring out from under the collar of my shirt, where it hung on a gold chain, and toyed with it. It wasn’t as if I could blame the girl for her confusion. Honestly. It had been fifteen months, three weeks, and two days since Peter had first asked me out, and even I sometimes found myself wondering how and why it had happened in the first place. We’re talking about Peter Marrott here, people. He was the hottest, most popular, most athletic guy in the senior class. Girls had started crushing on him in kindergarten. He’d been voted best-looking in eighth grade by a landslide (I was in charge of counting the votes, so I knew). Before me he’d gone out with Aura Sen, who was a year older than us and the hottest of Lake Carmody’s legendary Hot Sen Sisters. (There were five of them, and the youngest had already won some pageant that put her on the cover of the local paper last year.) But they’d broken up after the junior prom scandal two springs ago. (Rumor was there was vomit involved. Lots of vomit.) Three weeks later he’d come to his sister’s dance recital, which had just happened to also be my dance recital, and afterward he’d waited for me—yes, me—to come out of the dressing room and now here we were, sitting at Pizza City together for the hundredth time with his superhot and popular friends.

  Lester excepted, of course. From the hot part, anyway.

  So yes, I’d been surprised when he’d first asked me out. While I do have good hair and a tight body, I’m not Aura Sen–level beautiful. But now that I knew Peter so well, I wasn’t surprised we’d been together as long as we had. We didn’t have any classes together and we hung out with different crowds at school, but opposites attract, right? And besides, when it came down to it, we had more in common than anyone could imagine. We were both family-oriented athletes with responsible natures, and we supported each other. Would little miss cleavage-shover understand any of that? My guess was no.

  “What do you want to do this weekend?” Peter asked me as I leaned into his side. Gavin launched a grape tomato at Lester, and Lester caught it in his mouth. Orion, meanwhile, texted on his phone with a crease between his eyes, like whatever he was doing was super serious.

  “I don’t know,” I said, smiling up at him. “The usual?”

  “You mean sit around and be boring?” Lester said with a cackle. A grape tomato hit him in the temple and bounced along the floor.

  “Dude. Back off,” Peter said, reaching behind me to shove Lester’s head.

  “Don’t bother. I’m used to it,” I told Peter, rolling my eyes with a smile. Nothing was going to bring me down today. Not even Lester’s relentless mocking of me and my boring life and straight As. After almost a year and a half of being Peter’s girlfriend, I was used to it. And besides, today was the big day. I was going to find out if I’d gotten the audition at the Lafayette School of Dance. I was so excited I’d had to use the bathroom between every single class. If I got that audition, my future was practically set. Then we’d just have to figure out Peter’s.

  “Are you ready for your meeting with Mr. Garvey tomorrow?” I asked him.

  His leg started bouncing under the table, just like it always did whenever the subject of college came up.

  “Um, yeah. I think so.” He fiddled with the straw in his soda cup.

  “Did you fill out the general application?” I asked. “Because if you want, I can come over after ballet and help you with it.”

  “What’re you, his mom?” Lester asked.

  Gavin kicked him under the table. We heard the pop, and then Lester bent over, rubbing his shin.

  “It’s cool. I got it,” Peter said.

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “Because he said he wanted you to have it done before you met. It’s no problem if you want me to—”

  “I said, I’ve got it,” Peter snapped.

  I looked down at my salad, feeling as if I’d been slapped. Every time I offered to help Peter with his applications or his school search, he got tense with me. I just didn’t get it. Didn’t he understand that I was trying to help? That I wanted to be part of his decision and his future? I loved him and I wanted him to have the life he deserved, but it seemed like he didn’t want me involved. At all.

  Maybe he didn’t feel the same way about me as I felt about him.

  “So, what does a booster do, exactly?” Orion asked me, putting his phone away. I could have kissed him for breaking the awkward silence. Except then Peter would have pounded him. Except, then again, maybe he wouldn’t. Either way, I decided it was safer to spear a cucumber slice with my fork. Peter, meanwhile, wolfed down another slice of sausage pizza as if nothing had happened.

  “We basically make you feel like a superstar,” I explained, and Orion grinned. “I’m sorry you got stuck with that klepto, though. What was she even doing in the bleachers during practice? Stalking you?”

  Orion shrugged and glanced out the window at the packed parking lot. “I don’t know, I kinda like her. Did you know that she randomly kissed me this morning? Out of nowhere?”

  My jaw dropped. “See? Freak!”

  Orion laughed and blushed, reaching for a pizza slice. I wished him luck with that one. What kind of person just takes something out of your bag when you don’t even know them? And then she didn’t apologize when I confronted her about it. Weird.

  I finished off my water and checked my watch. After our awkward moment, I was longing for some fresh air. And besides, the sooner I got to the Studio, the sooner I’d find out my fate.

  “Do you mind if we head out?” I asked Peter. “I’m dying to get over there.” A shadow crossed his face, and my heart stopped
once more. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Yeah, no problem,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  I turned to Lester, who was, as always, oblivious to what was going on around him.

  “Excuse me?” I said politely, lifting my bag off the floor.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Dude! Move!” Peter ordered.

  Lester instantly shot up. “You guys’re leaving already? What’s up?”

  “Claudia has to get to class, and I gotta pick up Michelle,” Peter said, dropping a few dollars on the table.

  “You are such an old married couple, picking up the kid and running errands,” Lester groaned. “What’s next, grocery shopping? Are you guys gonna watch HGTV tonight, then not have sex and go to bed?”

  “We’re not your parents,” I joked.

  “Oh!” Peter and Gavin shouted, high-fiving. Then Peter raised his hand for me to slap as well. Just like that, the tension lifted. The moments when I felt like I belonged among Peter’s friends were few and far between, but when they happened, I reveled in them. I think Peter kind of did too.

  “Burn!” Peter shouted in Lester’s face.

  We turned and headed out the door, and I suddenly couldn’t stop smiling. Whatever had gone wrong between us back there, I’d set it right. Now I just had to survive the drive to the Studio without peeing in my pants.

  * * *

  “Will you come in with me?” I asked Peter when he pulled his old secondhand Buick up in front of the Studio. It was a large storefront on Maple Street, just off Main, and it was the place where I’d spent most of my life for the past thirteen years. Usually walking through that door was like walking into my own home, but today, I was crazy with jitters.

  “Why?” Peter asked.

  “Because! I’m nervous! What if I don’t get in?”

  Peter huffed a sigh and looked through the windshield. For a second his hands worked the steering wheel, his knuckles red, then white, then red, then white. What was going on with him today? Was he angry at me about something?

  I was about to ask, but then, suddenly, he turned to me and squeezed my hand. “You’ll get in.”

  I grinned. “You think?”

  “Let’s go find out.”

  He got out of the car, then jogged around and opened my door for me. Together we walked into the brightly lit studio. The reception area was empty, but a dozen dancers worked out on the wide wood floor of the rehearsal space, stretching out and laughing and chatting at the barres. I waved to Lauren, whose heel rested on the barre near the corner. Her black curls were up in a high bun, and she wore a light-pink leotard and skirt that perfectly complemented her latte-hued skin. She widened her eyes toward Madame Helene’s office.

  “Lance is in there!” she mouthed.

  The butterflies in my stomach were straining to bust out. Peter put his hand on the small of my back, and we walked over to the open office door together. Madame Helene, a short, robust woman with gray hair in curls around her pretty face, stood at the center of the room in front of her desk, talking in hushed tones with my friend and frequent dance partner, Lance Turska. Lance had applied to the Lafayette School as well, and we were both finding out about our auditions today. He stood tall and straight, as always, his shoulders back in his tight white leotard and black tights. I couldn’t see his face. Was he happy? Sad? What?

  “Madame?” I said tentatively. I could feel Peter’s heat behind me, and it made me feel brave. Both Madame and Lance turned to face me. Lance’s whole face broke into a smile.

  “We did it! We got the auditions!” he announced.

  “We did?” I cried.

  Lance crossed the room in one long stride and took me up in his arms, spinning me around. I felt as light as air, and I laughed into his shoulder.

  “Both of us?” I asked Madame Helene as he replaced me on the floor.

  She smiled as if she’d known this would happen. “My star pupils.”

  I turned to Peter and moved to hug him, but his face had turned to stone. I stopped and even took a step back at the sight of it. He looked so untouchable. I glanced over my shoulder at Lance, whose smile faltered. Peter had always been a little bit jealous of him, because we spent so much time together at rehearsal, but there was nothing going on between us. There never had been. Lance was like the big brother I never had.

  “Peter?” I said, confused.

  “Congratulations.” He stoically looked Lance in the eye. “Both of you.”

  Then he turned around and walked out of the office.

  “Peter!” I called after him.

  But he didn’t stop. He shoved open the door with the flat of his hand and was gone.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Peter

  “And then Kendall was all like, you can’t make me head the ball, and Coach Tarkisian was all, if you don’t want to learn the game, then why are you here? And Kendall was like, what do you know about soccer? You run a dry cleaner! And Talia completely freaked out and went all TMZ on her butt.”

  I pulled the car into the driveway and hit the brakes. “What does that even mean?”

  It came out nasty, as if I was mad at her or something, and suddenly I felt worse than I already had, which I didn’t think was possible. I took a deep breath and tried to blow out my anger, but I couldn’t stop seeing the way Claudia had thrown herself at Lance back at the studio. I knew she wasn’t interested in him. I did. But he was basically the perfect guy for her, and I’d spent the last year and a half waiting for her to see it. Now they were going to go to that audition together, get into the dance program together, and spend the next four years hanging out. While I was . . . where? Here? Taking classes at the community college and going to LCH football games on the weekends, trying to relive my glory days?

  God. I was such a loser.

  Michelle, meanwhile, didn’t seem to notice my tone. She looked at me like I was the dumbest person alive. “You know, like on TMZ how they’re always showing celebs kicking the paparazzi’s ass?” She unhooked her seat belt and pushed open her door. “Talia was not cool with Kendall insulting her dad. She totally ripped the back off Kendall’s practice jersey.”

  I smirked, trying to focus on my fairly awesome sister instead of my own lameness.

  “Seriously?” I said as I got out of the car. “Sounds more violent than my practice.”

  “Eighth-grade girls’ soccer is not a cakewalk, bro,” she said, widening her blue eyes as she shook her head.

  I laughed and ruffled her hair. “I might have to come be your bodyguard next time.”

  “Are you kidding? Talia takes Krav Maga!” Michelle joked, nudging my side. “She could take you with one hand tied behind her back.”

  “Ha ha.” I got her in a choke hold and gave her a noogie. Not a hard one, though. More like a love-noogie. At least if I stayed home next year I’d get to hang out with my mom and Michelle. That was a bright side.

  “Get off! Get off me! Foul! I call foul! You’ve got a hundred pounds on me!” I let her go and she straightened her hair and huffed. “You are so immature.”

  “My apologies, princess.” I raised my hands in surrender. “What do you think Mom’s making for dinner tonight?”

  “I hope fried chicken,” Michelle replied with a jump, forgetting how fed up she was with me. “We haven’t had fried chicken in forever, and she said she was going to try some new seasoning or something.”

  She pushed open the door and we both paused. The house was full of the scent of frying food. Even though I’d just eaten half a pizza, my stomach grumbled. My mom, who was a paralegal by day and a food blogger by night, was rushing around the kitchen, her semi-wet blond hair pulled up into a high ponytail, an apron strapped on over her sweats. Every day she came home, showered, and got right to work on some random recipe she’d try out on us. Then she’d write about our reactions for her blog, “Kid Tested.”

  Which was why I’d been my sister’s chauffeur ever since I’d gotten my license. But I didn’t
mind. I liked the extra alone time with Michelle. And at least my dad had left behind his old car when he’d bailed on us eight years ago. My mom had kept it in good condition, so that I’d be able to use it as my own one day. She called it my dad’s “parting gift.”

  “Hi, guys!” she called out happily. “How was your day?”

  “Good,” I lied, considering the way it had ended.

  “Better now!” Michelle added, hopping over to the stove.

  I put my bag down and was about to go grab one of the onion rings off the paper towel where they were draining on the counter, when something in the dining room caught my eye. Great. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse. On the table were stacks of college brochures—dozens of them. My mother must have raided my room, and from the looks of it, she hadn’t left a drawer unsearched, a pillow unturned, or a garbage can unemptied.

  “What’s that about?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I plucked an onion ring.

  “You and I are going through those tonight, together,” she said, and gave me a serious stare. She checked the temperature on her oil, which popped and sizzled. “If you’re meeting with your guidance counselor to narrow down your choices tomorrow, I want my two cents in.”

  “But Mom—”

  “No buts, Peter.”

  Michelle giggled.

  “But I have volunteering tonight,” I improvised. I wasn’t scheduled to work, but they could always use help. It wasn’t like Marcy Fiore, my church’s middle-aged soup kitchen ministry adviser, was going to turn me away if I showed up at the door. “I can’t miss that.”

  “Then we’ll do it after,” Mom said. “This is your future we’re talking about, Peter. You have to start taking this seriously.”

  I felt that pressure—the pressure I always felt when Claudia brought up college—like someone was grinding a rock into my chest. The onion ring found its way into my mouth, even though my stomach didn’t really want it anymore.