Summer Of The Geek Part 27

"Oh my gosh!" I said as it finally clicked. "That's Snake House!"

"What?" Amelia asked.

"The band! They're called Snake House. You see the guitarist with the piercings and the tattoo? His name is Snake," I explained. "Although I think that's just a nickname. He dates a girl in my cla.s.s. They played at the Geek High Snowflake Gala last year."

Amelia wrinkled her nose. "They're not very good."

"No, they're not," I agreed. "But we might as well listen. We're in no hurry to get back home, right?"

Chapter Thirty-one.

"Miranda, may I speak with you?"

I looked up from the book I was reading while lounging on my bed. Peyton stood at the doorway, looking uneasy. Her hands were clutched together and her bony shoulders were even more tense than usual.

"Um, okay," I said, putting down my book and sitting up.

Peyton walked into the room and glanced around. "You haven't changed much in here," she said. "Hannah thinks we should have your room painted."

"Yeah, she said something about that to me, too," I said cautiously. It was the first time Peyton had ever called it my room.

"Would you like to do that?" Peyton asked. Her tone was curt, almost testy.

"Would I like to do what?" I asked.

"Paint. The. Room," Peyton said, spitting out each word as though it tasted foul in her mouth. Her thin nostrils flared, and I could practically feel the waves of cold dislike rolling off her.

"Okay. Sure," I said cautiously.

Since the Peyton I knew would never voluntarily do anything nice for me, much less have a whole room painted to suit my tastes, I had a feeling there was something more going on here than she was letting on.

Peyton stared at me for a long, cold moment. I stared right back at her, waiting for her to get to the point.

Finally, Peyton said, somewhat abruptly, "May I sit?" She nodded toward the uncomfortable modern white chair in the corner of the room.

Taken aback, I said, "Sure."

Peyton crossed the room and lowered herself onto the chair. She frowned. "This chair isn't very comfortable," she remarked.

"No," I agreed. "It's not."

"Why didn't you ever say anything about it?"

"I didn't think it really mattered."

"Well, you have to have a comfortable chair in your room," Peyton said impatiently. She sounded almost angry again. "With the amount of reading you do. And you should really have a desk in here, too, where you can study. Where do you do your homework?"

"Right here, usually," I said, patting the bed. I felt like I'd pa.s.sed into some sort of alternate reality. When had Peyton ever cared about my comfort? Or where I studied? Mostly, she seemed happy-well, not happy, but less mean and twitchy-if I just stayed out of her way.

"We'll order you a desk," Peyton said with finality.

"Okay," I said slowly. "Can I ask a question?"

Peyton's nostrils flared. "All right," she said.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you suddenly so interested in painting my room and ordering furniture? I've been living here for almost a year, and you've never shown any interest in whether I have a comfortable place to read or study before," I said.

Red spots flamed high on Peyton's cheeks, and her mouth pursed even tighter. She and I had always lived by a code of sorts: While we didn't like each other, we also didn't talk about it. True, she put in her little digs now and again, and I did a lot of eye rolling and sighing. But we'd never addressed our enmity outright.

Peyton pursed her lips, and for a moment, I thought she was going to refuse to answer. But then she finally sighed and said, "Richard told me that you're considering moving to London. To live with your mother."

I nodded. "That's right. I was."

Peyton seemed to be struggling for the right words. I waited patiently, my hands folded on my lap.

"It's no secret that you and I have never been close," Peyton began.

I raised my eyebrows. "Okay," I said.

"But I love your father very much. And it's important to him that you-as his daughter-are welcome in our home," Peyton said. She swallowed. "I think that maybe, perhaps I haven't made you feel as welcome here as I could have."

That was the understatement of the year, I thought.

"I want to change that. I'd like you to stay here with us. If you want to," Peyton said. She looked like she'd just swallowed a porcupine.

I was getting the gist of what she was saying. She still didn't particularly like me, and would probably be happier if I moved to London with Sadie. But she was worried that her relationship with my dad would suffer-or perhaps even permanently rupture-if she didn't start making an effort with me.

"Thank you," I said. "I'd like that."

Peyton looked a little surprised by how quickly I was accepting her offer.

"So you're not going to London?" she asked.

"No," I said.

I could have sworn I saw a flash of disappointment cross her face.

"Well. Good, then," Peyton said, rising to her feet. She glanced around. "Why don't you think about what color you might want to paint your room?"

"I will," I said.

Peyton departed. Shaking my head, I picked my book back up. I'd only just started reading again when my door banged open and Hannah rushed in. She'd gotten most of the silver out of her hair, although in a certain light, you could still see the odd sparkle or two. Her face was still eyebrow-free, which I was still getting used to.

"Is it true? You're staying?" Hannah asked.

I nodded. "Yep," I said.

Hannah beamed at me. "I still think you're crazy. I'd totally go if I was you. But I'm so glad you're staying here."

"You are?"

Hannah nodded. "Yeah. I've gotten used to having you around."

I thought back to how quiet the house had been when Hannah was in Manhattan visiting her dad. "I know what you mean," I said.

"So when did you decide you were going to stay?" Hannah asked, flopping down on the end of my bed.

"You know, I'm not really sure," I said. "It was after I found out Dex was going away to school. I kept wondering what would happen with us if I left, and then I'd worry because I didn't want to be the kind of girl who wouldn't go do something she wanted to do because of her boyfriend. But then once I found out he wasn't going to be here, it was easier to make a decision." I shrugged. "If I was in London, I could still come back here in the summer and for holidays, which is when Dex would be home, too. And so once I took him out of the equation, I was finally able to think about what I really wanted to do."

"How did Orange Cove beat out London?" Hannah asked.

"I guess I don't feel like I've done everything I need to do here before I leave. Does that make sense?" I asked.

"No," Hannah said. "Not even a little bit. I think you're crazy to give up London. I bet the shopping there is to die for." She sighed longingly, thinking of a whole city full of stores, but then looked up sharply. "Not that I want you to change your mind or anything."

"It's okay. I won't. I've already told my mom," I said.

"How did she take it?"

"Sadie was disappointed, but she understood. She's only going to stay there for another year, and then she'll move back, so she'll be here for my senior year," I said. "Or, at least, that's what she says now. You never really know with Sadie."

Hannah wrapped her arms around her bent legs, pulling them into her chest. "I'm officially done with modeling. I called my agency this morning and told them," she said, abruptly changing the subject.

"The eyebrow thing?" I asked sympathetically.

"Well, there's that. But I'm serious-I really do think I'd be an amazing relationship counselor. I want to focus on that instead. Look at the success I had with my mom and your dad. I saved their marriage."

"Wait, what success?" I asked, trying to figure out what Hannah had done exactly.

"I'm the one who convinced them to go to marriage therapy, aren't I?" Hannah said. "And then there's you and Dex. I totally got the two of you talking again. And then there's Charlie and Finn."

"But Charlie and Finn aren't together. Your plan backfired," I pointed out.

"No, it didn't. It just hasn't played all the way out yet. Trust me, they're totally going to end up together all because of me," Hannah said, with breathtaking confidence.

"Right now Finn is head over heels in love with Phoebe," I said. "And Charlie's dating Luke. Who she doesn't even really like."

"Actually, I think Luke's growing on her," Hannah said.

"Really? Well, even so, she and Finn are obviously not together."

"They aren't now. But they will be," Hannah said. "And why are you pooh-poohing my dream?"

"I didn't realize that getting Finn and Charlie together was your dream," I said.

"Well, not just them. I meant more in the broader scheme of things." Hannah suddenly gasped, covering her mouth dramatically with one hand.

"What?" I asked, startled.

"I totally know what I want to do! I'm going to be a matchmaker. Like that woman on TV who fixes up women with millionaires," Hannah announced. "Wouldn't that be perfect for me? You get to match people up and counsel them along the way. I could use all of my skills that way."

"Actually, you know, I really could see you doing that," I said truthfully. Knowing Hannah, she'd probably get her own reality television series, too. It would be called Hannah's Hotties, or something like that.

"I'm going to totally start working on it now. There's no reason why I can't be a matchmaker at Orange Cove High, right?"

"Right," I said, somewhat more doubtfully.

"Do you know of anyone who needs to be fixed up?"

"No," I said.

"Hmm. It's too bad you're not single," Hannah mused.

"Thanks a lot!" I said.

"I just meant you'd be a good first project. Not that you'll need it. I'm sure you and Dex will stay together," Hannah said.

I smiled, feeling the odd mixture of happiness and melancholy that had become common whenever I thought of Dex these days. What did the future hold for us? Was there any chance a long-distance relationship would work? I kept telling myself that there was no reason to dwell on it now, while Dex was still here with the remaining weeks of the summer stretching before us. But it's hard to make yourself not think about something.

"We'll see," I said.

Chapter Thirty-two.

I was in the kitchen, foraging in the fridge for a snack-I'd already uncovered a box of Parmesan crackers in the cupboard, and now discovered some hummus-when I heard the front door open and my dad call out, "Miranda! Where are you?"

"I'm in the kitchen," I called back. I closed the refrigerator door shut with one hip and put my snack on the counter.

"Can you come out here, please?" Dad said. He sounded excited.