The Crush Dilemma (Dear Aubrey Book 1) Read online

  “Thanks for the wonderful evening, Suzanne.” My mom put an arm around her, and squeezed as if she’d made a new best friend. “You’ll have to email me that recipe we talked about when you get a chance.”

  “Or, I’ll just invite you over to my place for dinner,” Suzanne quipped, then headed out the door.

  “Even better,” my mom called out.

  The temperature had dropped outside and the cool evening air made me shiver as we watched them walk down the front walkway to their car.

  “What a lovely woman. I’m glad I could take her out and show her a good time.” Mom’s voice was low and she waved again as they climbed into their car and shut the doors. “What a mess she’s going through. Her husband left her for a younger woman and it turned out he’d been seeing that woman for over a year.”

  “What?” I asked, dumbfounded. There was that word “what” again. If dumbfounded were a permanent state of mind, I was afraid I’d soon be named their leader.

  She sighed. “Apparently Suzanne had been ignoring his relationship, hoping he would change his mind. But a few weeks ago, he asked for a divorce and plans to marry this woman. She’s having his baby. Can you imagine the heartbreak Suzanne must be feeling?”

  “No,” I said, unable to imagine the heartbreak Daniel must be feeling. I flinched, remembering when Stephen had asked Daniel if he’d like to have a little brother. That innocent question must’ve stung big time since that might become a reality for him very soon, but not in the way he would’ve wanted since he didn’t talk fondly of his dad.

  We returned inside and I closed the door and locked it behind us. Stephen had fallen asleep on the living room couch with the TV still on.

  “Sweet boy must be all worn out.” She smiled endearingly at him, brushing her fingers across his forehead. “What did you and Daniel do this evening?”

  Brief moments flashed through my mind, but it wasn’t like I could tell her he’d held my hand—still couldn’t believe that had really happened!—or that I’d almost risked the status of my life as I knew it by confessing my secret identity to him. She’d never understand, though, so I simply replied, “Homework.”

  “That’s my girl.” She smiled, kissed my temple, then headed toward her bedroom. “I can always count on you to do the right thing in the end, Poppy.”

  My brows came together as I watched her go. Do the right thing? She was happy that I was doing her thing. That I’d watched my brother for her without a fuss and that I’d been doing my homework. But she couldn’t tell how much I’d been through this evening, opening up to Daniel about my dream to become a psychologist. She couldn’t tell, because she never truly listened to me. It hurt that she had such empathy for Suzanne, a woman who was practically a total stranger, yet she didn’t care about her own daughter’s dreams at all.

  Chapter Eight

  http://www.dearaubrey.com

  Dear Aubrey,

  My daughter is going to a high school party tonight and just to be clear, it’s not an adult supervised party. Although she often accuses me of being “so out of it,” I’m not so out of it that I don’t realize there will likely be alcohol and drugs there. Sure, it was all available in my day but I wasn’t much of a partier. My daughter didn’t used to be, either, but lately she’s accrued some new friends that pursue the party scene.

  I don’t want to be the kind of parent that restricts her child from having fun, but safety has to come first. Don’t you think? As a teen, what’s your take on these parties? Should I be worried?

  Concerned Mom

  Dear Concerned Mom,

  Talk to your daughter. Tell her your concerns. How can you ensure she won’t drink or do drugs? You can’t. But, there’s no better way to make something enticing than to forbid it. Rebellious? Teens? You betcha. I’ve seen a lot of it.

  Good luck with your conversation. I wish my mom would take the time to talk to me about important things. Sadly, she’s more of a dictator. But, that’s another story. . . .

  Stay real,

  Aubrey

  HYPOTHESIS: Mothers worry that their kid might use alcohol or drugs when unsupervised.

  PURPOSE OF EXPERIMENT: See if increased communication can help teens make a healthy decision.

  CONCLUSION: Sounds like I’m going to have to attend Trish’s party for blog research.

  Tutoring Daniel in U.S. History had gone well the entire week and he seemed to be caught up to speed. Jake hadn’t bothered to show up since that first day, so not sure how he was hoping to bring his grade up. I had mixed feelings about my basketball tutoring sessions with Daniel after school, because I really looked forward to spending more time with him but I also feared that increasing my basketball abilities might be a lost cause. Sigh.

  Another thing that bothered me was Daniel and Trish sitting together at the It table all week. I didn’t know if he was going to her party tonight, but it wouldn’t surprise me either. If he liked Trish—as in liked her liked her—then why would he write Aubrey about me and not her? Or, maybe he’d meant Trish was hot and cold? That possibility stung. But, then again. he had held my hand that day he’d come over. . . .

  My mind started spinning again, so I definitely needed to stop.

  Trying to push Daniel from my mind, I stared at the computer screen in my den hardly able to believe I’d just given a parent advice. It felt weird that Concerned Mom cared about what I thought. Unlike my mom. Well, technically the adult cared what Aubrey thought. But, still. Aubrey was me, just anonymous me.

  Oh! I also just realized that Concerned Mom must have read my previous posts and liked my advice since she’d decided to ask my opinion. That gave me a glowy feeling inside. Unfortunately, having never been to a high school party, I could safely admit to myself that I didn’t know squat about them. But I felt my advice was stellar. At least, I hoped so. Clearly, I’d have to attend Trish’s party in order to be more properly experienced to answer party questions.

  Yes, crashing Trish’s party was the responsible thing to do in order to improve the quality of my online advice column. I was only thinking of my educational goals. Nothing more. Certainly not about Daniel Baker.

  I logged off the computer, stood up to get ready for school, and turned around. Staring at me open-mouthed was the dictator . . . er, my mom. “W-What are you doing?” I asked.

  “The question is, what are you doing?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing in a way that made me wonder if actual daggers were going to start spewing from her hazel eyes.

  “Um, getting ready for school?” I swallowed, wanting to kick myself. Great, I’d responded in an interrogatory way. No better way to express guilt than showing doubt about my own actions.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Who were you writing?”

  “No one.” Not a lie. Technically, I hadn’t been writing anyone. Aubrey had.

  “Poppy Rose Pinkleton, I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

  Her tone irked me. What was I, two? “I gave you an answer. I said no one.”

  “I saw what you wrote about me.” Her eyes got even squintier. “I also saw you talking about alcohol and drugs. You tell me who you were talking to right now or you’re grounded for the entire weekend.”

  How dare she threaten me like that? I was sixteen, a straight A student, and working on my school project. But, like always, she didn’t trust me. She only wanted to remind me that I wasn’t doing enough. Irritation over never feeling good enough for her bubbled up inside me. “You’re going to ground me from studying, which is all I ever do?” I crossed my arms.

  She stared at me as if I had three eyeballs. “What has gotten into you?”

  “You have no right to read my emails. Don’t I deserve some kind of privacy in this house??

  Her face turned red and she thrust a hand to her chest. “I hardly recognize you right now. What happened to my good little girl?”

  “I’m standing right here.” Not that she cared about getting to know the real me.
My fists balled and tears burned behind my eyes. All she cared about was chastising me that I should be doing more. I shrugged. “This is me, Mom. You try to mold me into your idea of the perfect child, but I’m never going to be good enough for you. Am I? That’s why I’m going to move out of this house the first chance I get.”

  She gasped. “Look, Poppy, I know you think you know more than I do, but you’re barely sixteen years old. I have life experience and believe me, I know what’s best for you. One day you’ll look back and thank me for guiding you.” She sighed and shook her head. “You almost had me thinking you were mature enough to live away from home and on campus at college, but now I’ll have to think again.”

  My entire body went numb as I felt my freedom crumbling away from me. “W-What?”

  She put a hand on her hip. “You have a lot of growing up to do, young lady. You’ve made it clear that you aren’t going to do that on your own. And, yes, you’re grounded.”

  Tears filled my eyes as I watched her turn on her heel and head back to the kitchen. I shouldn’t have talked back to her. Shouldn’t have said what I really thought. And now it was too late. I’d blown it.

  My life of freedom at Stanford was over.

  ****

  Dear Aubrey,

  I’m SO glad to hear from you. I’m freaking out about my date tonight. I know I asked him (Mason Vincent) to go to the concert, but I invited him spontaneously without thinking everything through. Now, I’m wondering if he might’ve said YES without thinking. What if he’s having second thoughts about going out with me?

  I mean, I told you he’s not really my type, but maybe he thinks I’m not his type. He’s really smart—probably the smartest boy in our school. What if he spends five minutes with me and thinks I’m an airhead. I have to admit, I don’t think Jake exactly liked me for my brain power.

  Uh, Jake. You probably heard that he trashed Mason’s car with whipped cream when he found out we were going on a date, right? What a psycho. Although he can be really sweet when he wants to. Okay, enough! I’m late for school.

  Thanks for being here and for listening to me. It means a lot. I’ll let you know how it all goes tonight. Hope you have an awesome day!

  Your friend,

  Amber

  “What are you reading?” Beth leaned over my shoulder to check out my cell screen.

  “Nothing.” I closed the screen quickly, hoping she hadn’t seen Amber’s name. What was it with people reading over my shoulder lately? Like everyone figured they had a right to read my every move. I shut my locker and turned to Beth, contemplating what Amber had said about Jake trashing Mason’s car with whipped cream. I suddenly remembered seeing white stuff on Jake’s arm at the library on the day Mason’s car got messed up. Oh, no. I also remembered seeing white cream on Daniel’s arm. . . “What?” I asked.

  Beth gave me a weird look. “What do you mean ‘what’?”

  “Didn’t you ask me . . .?” I couldn’t remember if she’d said something more. I’d been distracted by my own thoughts. Suddenly, I tilted my head, listening to the conversation of two It girls at the locker next to mine. Apparently there was a new teen dance club opening up tonight called Crush. They were debating ditching Trish’s party for the club, but didn’t want to suffer her wrath. I didn’t blame them.

  “I talked to Mason last night.” Beth waved a hand in front of my face and I realized in addition to eavesdropping, I’d been searching the halls for Daniel.

  “Oh, really?” I asked, thinking there was no way Daniel had trashed his car. He was too nice of a guy. But, then again, there had been the whipped cream evidence on him. I held my head as a headache formed.

  “Mason’s wondering if you’re mad at him.”

  That got my attention. “Why would he think that?”

  Beth adjusted her backpack to the other shoulder as the five-minute warning bell sounded before school. “He says he called you last night, but you didn’t call him back.”

  “Oh, I was studying,” I said, watching each and every person that walked by our classroom searching for the one person I couldn’t get off my mind.

  Beth put her hands on her hips. “Who are you looking for? Something is going on with you, Poppy Rose Pinkleton and I want to know what it is.”

  “You know I hate it when you use my full name.” I frowned, turning around to face Beth, who had asked me what was wrong, but the list was too long to go into right now. I decided to give her the short version. “My mom and I had a fight this morning.”

  “I’m sorry.” She strolled beside me toward my classroom. “What about?”

  “She was reading over my shoulder while I was writing an email this morning and she didn’t like what I’d written.” I gave her a deadpan look. “She said that I had a lot of growing up to do. Me. I have a 4.2 and spend my spare time tutoring. Please.”

  “Wow. I haven’t seen you this riled since the school tried to cancel that Advanced Placement English class.” She tilted her head. “What didn’t your mom like that you’d written?”

  My cheeks heated. “I called her a dictator.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Well, it’s true.” I paused outside my classroom door and searched the faces in the hall, looking for Daniel. Could he have joined Jake in trashing my friend’s car? No, he couldn’t possibly have done that. But then why had there been whipped cream on his arm?

  “So, who were you writing?” Beth asked.

  “Huh?” I turned back to her.

  “The email your mom didn’t like.” Beth shifted the books in her arms. “Who was it to?”

  “Oh . . .” Awkward. Awkward. Awkward. “Just, uh, a friend.”

  “A friend?” She scoffed. “Can you be any more vague? Oh, I see. You’re not telling me because you’re still upset that I’m going to Trish’s party tonight. Is that right?”

  “My mom grounded me for the weekend, Beth. I couldn’t go with you to that party even if you had wanted to invite me, which you didn’t.”

  “It’s not that I didn’t want to invite you.” She threw her gaze at the ceiling and blew out a breath. “Since when do you keep secrets from me?”

  Since I’d taken on an extra credit psych project as a mental outlet to speak my mind freely without repercussions. But, it turned out there had actually been quite a few repercussions in my life. One being that Beth was going to Trish’s party tonight. But I couldn’t reveal my secret identity to Beth, so I merely shrugged.

  “You know what, Poppy? Maybe I’ll ask Amber if she wants to sit with me at lunch today. Maybe she’ll treat me like a real friend and not keep secrets from me.”

  “What?” My mouth dropped open and I felt like admitting to her that the only reason Amber wanted to hang out with her was because I had told her to. Well, you know, Aubrey had asked her to. Either way, it had not been Amber’s idea to hang out with Beth or ask her to a party. I raised my chin. “That party invite has totally gone to your head.”

  Beth raised a brow. “Maybe you’re just jealous.”

  Jealous? Pshaw! I was the one who’d set them up.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Fine, ask your new best friend to lunch. Don’t let me stop you.”

  “Fine, I will.” She tossed her head in the opposite direction and started away from me but then she turned back to look me up and down. “You know what? Your mom’s right. You do have a lot of growing up to do.”

  I sputtered, trying to think of a mature comeback for her retreating figure as the final bell rang, signaling school was starting.

  Then, suddenly, two warm hands covered my eyes, and somebody leaned close to my ear. “Good morning,” a smooth male voice whispered.

  Recognizing Daniel’s voice, I felt a goofy smile spread across my face, despite the dramatic exchange with Beth. I reached up and took his hands off my eyes as if I hadn’t been elated that they were there—yeah right.

  “Good morning.” I turned to face him, my grin widening as I took in his soft green e
yes with gold flecks and the warm smile he was giving me. Me!

  Someone shoved me from behind, bumping me into Daniel—chest to chest. I hoped he didn’t notice how large my chest was compared to the rest of my body—how embarrassing. At least I didn’t have a pink stain on my boob today. Progress.

  “I guess we should get to class.” He reached for my hand, guiding me into the classroom and past the back seats over to where we’d sat by the window all week.

  Mrs. Cunningham, our English teacher, cleared her throat, snapping me to attention, and I realized everyone was already seated except the two of us. Daniel quickly dropped into his chair from yesterday and I took a step toward mine . . . but, someone was sitting in it.

  Long, dark wavy hair. Black-lined eyes, with thick lashes. A super short skirt. And a glare I’d received many times this week.

  Trish Benson.

  “Take a seat, Poppy.” Mrs. Cunningham commanded as she approached the white board with a colored marker.

  Daniel started to stand up, as if to give me his seat, but I shook my head and hurried to the back row and sat in the only empty seat next to William Hall, who was in my journalism class with me. William nodded at me, then slunk down in his seat, scribbling notes on whatever Mrs. Cunningham was writing on the whiteboard.

  I looked away from William and over to Trish, who was turned around in her seat whispering to Daniel. Whatever she said must’ve been funny, too, because my stomach sank as his mouth stretched into that adorable smile which had been directed at me only minutes earlier—the smile that I’d mistaken as special between Daniel and me. But I’d obviously been wrong. Very wrong.

  ****

  “Poppy!” Daniel called.

  As I walked down the hall, I turned around to see Daniel push out of English class and then pass several people as he jogged to catch up with me. I’d been barely able to concentrate on Mrs. Cunningham’s lecture since Trish and Daniel had whispered through most of the class, and now I couldn’t stop myself from staring at him.