Practically Ever After Page 5

  Alec shook his head. “Not really. I mean, I guess since I’m the customer, I kind of am the voice of the customer.”

  I blinked at Oliver and pointed at my notebook. “And like I told you, I did some research and I know something about this because my grandmom used a glove like this.”

  “Voice of customer is more than that, though. If you don’t really get a broad idea of what the problem is and don’t understand what the user population really needs, you can’t figure out the solution.” Oliver scrolled through his questionnaire as he spoke. “I’ll give you examples of what I did for my project and, if you want, we can figure out a good way for you both to talk with end users and understand their problems so that you can design the best product you can for them. Grace, if you want, Dr. Aubrey knows some doctors and physical therapists who might be able to help you get some input.”

  I nodded, even though I was sure I was already on the right track with my design. It wouldn’t hurt to get a little bit of extra information for my report and presentation slides and I didn’t want to sound ungrateful. “Thanks.”

  “Great. Now,” Oliver said, pulling my sketches back in front of him, “let’s talk about hand anatomy and design for human factors.”

  Chapter 7

  “Your mom showed me your prom dress,” a familiar voice said from the table as I tossed my backpack into the study and made my way into the kitchen for dinner. Aunt Drina turned in her chair and smiled at me. “It’s beautiful.”

  I threw my arms around my aunt, her hug and her jasmine perfume engulfing me. Even though she lived only a half hour away, I never saw her enough anymore.

  “You should come over and join the mom-arazzi next Thursday. I’m sure they’ll appreciate a fourth photographer.” Aunt Drina looked like a younger version of my mom, from the dark brown eyes and freckled skin to the reddish light brown hair she always had up in some sort of bun or twist. Just like my natural color, except I always had my hair highlighted down to strawberry blonde like it used to be before I hit puberty.

  “Recital stuff. You know how it is.” Aunt Drina pulled back and tugged at my high ponytail. “Is cheerleading season winding down?”

  “Pretty much.” I slid into my seat at the dinner table and spooned a massive slice of shepherd’s pie onto my plate. “Just one more game to go and we start prepping next year’s squad.”

  “Good,” Dad said, waving his fork at me and Drina. “Because your aunt needs your help.”

  Mom shook her head and just spooned more shepherd’s pie onto his plate. “Blunt as always, David.”

  “It’s a skill. That’s how I get consensus in meetings. no beating around the bush.” Dad tried to look serious, but he wiggled both of his greying eyebrows at me and his lips curled up very slightly at the corners. “Grace needs to learn the family secret to being successful.”

  I copied his expression. While I might look more like my mom, my personality was all Dad’s. “Didn’t they say on I Love Lucy, ‘Nunca se haga necocios con familia ni parientes?’” I quoted the line about not doing business with family in my best Desi Arnaz voice and was rewarded with his almost-smile growing into a full one. He and I had watched so many episodes of that show together that quoting lines at each other had become our thing. “So,” I looked from my dad to my aunt. “What’s up?”

  “I was wondering if you could help out at the school,” Aunt Drina said, laying down her fork and folding her hands together on top of the table. “My contemporary teacher got a great offer in New York she couldn’t turn down, so now I don’t have anyone to teach her classes. She told me the other day and when your mom called to invite me over, I figured it was a sign I should ask you.”

  I nodded slowly, understanding flooding me as I put the time of year and her situation together. “And it’s less than two months before the recital.”

  She nodded. “So, I’m hoping you can do me a favor and fill in until the recital? I’ll pay you, of course.”

  “Contemporary?” Contemporary had been my favorite style before I’d given up dance, but the thought of actually teaching it… “I’m not a trained dance teacher.” The thought of teaching some of my former classmates also sent a cold shiver over my skin. How could I possibly teach anyone?

  “You were my best student and you were a class assistant for years. It’s only two months. You’ll be fine.” Before I could protest, she added, “I’m taking the rosebud and starshine classes and Natalie can take the seniors. You just have to teach the juniors and junior preps.”

  My brain translated her school’s naming system into age and skill levels. Nine- to fourteen-year-olds, maybe some fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds who started late. At least everyone would be younger than me.

  “Juniors and junior preps?” I repeated, slowly.

  “Oh, and the adults. But don’t worry, they’re easy to teach, just don’t work in any tumbling.” She didn’t look away, just kept her eyes trained on mine with the tiniest concerned expression. “I’d really appreciate it. Natalie can’t take on any more classes. I’ve already over-stressed her and these groups need someone who can demonstrate everything full out for them. And every other dance teacher I know is overbooked because of recital season, too.”

  I ran through my schedule—if things hadn’t changed, all her contemporary classes met later in the afternoon or at night, which were probably the lightest times of my day, but with everything else I needed to do in the next two months, I couldn’t imagine taking on one more responsibility. “I… I’m pretty busy.”

  “If you’re worried about being out of practice, don’t. It really shouldn’t be too bad, just the usual warmups and a few easy combinations to keep them from getting bored. It will be a piece of cake for you.”

  “That doesn’t sound hard,” Mom said, in a ‘trying to be helpful tone.’ “I definitely think this is something you can squeeze in, Grace.”

  I held back the urge to remind Mom that she wasn’t the one being asked to add another thing to her overflowing schedule. After all I’d done for Mom to make family dinner work, I didn’t expect her tag-team me about something like this.

  “Think about it.” Aunt Drina went back to her dinner, then waved her fork around in the air and swallowed to add, “And start thinking about recital pieces for them. April didn’t get a chance to choreograph anything before she left.”

  I quickly ducked my head down and tried to look like I was focused on eating so no one would see my horrified expression.

  Perfect. Just perfect.

  “You need to help your aunt,” Dad said, as he followed me into the kitchen with the dirty salad plates. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  I focused on carefully lining up the dinnerplates in the dishwasher rack, my brain spinning with everything I needed to do over the next two months. “I really don’t have the time. Between studying and my final projects and cheer—”

  “Grace,” Mom broke in as she slid past me to drop some dishes in the sink, “Drina’s done so much for you, this isn’t asking much in comparison.”

  “Correas don’t leave family hanging, ever,” Dad added. “She’s your only aunt and she needs your help. Plus, with the amount of money we spent on dance lessons and dance shoes, you could at least—”

  “David,” Mom said abruptly, raising her eyebrow, “It’s not about the money, it’s about helping someone out of a tough situation.”

  I didn’t need them to start fighting again, this time over me. I blew air through my lips and did a quick mental reshuffling of my schedule that made my heartburn even worse. “Fine, I’ll tell her I’ll help.”

  “Wonderful,” Mom said, giving me a one-armed hug. “Now, for dessert, I made a coconut milk panna cotta from a recipe I found online the other day, It’s a shame Drina had to leave before trying it, but I think you’ll both love it.” She headed back to the table and placed the jiggly white thing on it with a flourish. “You both still have a few minutes before you need to run off and do your other thin
gs, right?”

  Dad and I shared a grimace while her back was turned and, before I could bow out gracefully, Dad quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and said, “Sorry, can’t keep Taiwan waiting,” and then hurried out of the room.

  “Your dad has always been picky,” Mom said absently as she scooped a big bowlful of the panna cotta for me. “Aren’t you glad you inherited my tastes?”

  I stared at the panna cotta and tried to force my brain to believe it looked good. Between my current heartburn and the bowlful of coconut in front of me, I was definitely going to be a nauseated mess through the whole Honor Society ceremony. “Definitely.”

  Chapter 8

  “You’re ridiculously pretty, you know that? It was really hard to pay attention to Oliver yesterday with you out there being all gardener-y and stuff.” I said casually, twirling my spoon in the water ice Leia had picked up from Marranos on her way home from the library. We were perched on the front steps of my house, doing our best to ignore the damp chill starting to settle over the neighborhood.

  Or, at least, Leia was ignoring the chill. Considering she was one of those people who believed you should only eat frozen desserts in the winter because then you didn’t have to worry about it melting, I wasn’t totally surprised. “Really? Mud and all?”

  I laughed and reached over to wipe at a blotch of dirt on her cheek. “Mud and all.”

  “I’m trying to start a new trend. Mud masks on the go. Watch out, Photogram influencers.” She struck a silly pose, lips pushed out into a duckface expression, bright red from the cherry water ice she’d gotten. “But you forgot to also tell me I’m incredibly smart. Us pretty girls like to hear that sort of thing, you know,” she added, scrunching her nose to let me know she was joking. She waved her spoon at me. “Pretty can go away but smart lasts forever.”

  “Truth,” I said with a laugh, but then added, “But that doesn’t negate the fact that you’re ridiculously pretty.”

  She scrunched her nose and used her free hand to push her hair out of her face. “Okay, now you’re exaggerating. I know I look like I was attacked by the swamp thing.”

  “Dirt looks cute on you.”

  “Thanks.” She leaned closer, bumping her nose with mine. “Well, you’re ridiculously pretty and ridiculously smart, too.”

  It didn’t matter how many times I heard something like that from Leia, it always made me feel like there was a chemical reaction fizzing through my body, bubbly and energizing. “We’re obviously a good match,” I said, dropping my chin so my forehead touched hers, then took that moment to close the distance between us with a kiss.

  When we broke apart, she pursed her lips at me and said, “Remind me never to mix cherry with key lime.” She made a big show of scooping up a big scoop of her water ice and popping it in her mouth.

  “Noted.”

  “So, tell me something interesting. We’ve already established we’re the world’s prettiest couple at the moment, and I told you about my and Emily’s plans for the children’s garden, but you’ve been so busy lately, I feel like I never really know what’s going on with you.” Leia leaned into my side and dropped her head on my shoulder.

  I popped some water ice in my mouth and let it melt on my tongue while I thought through to the last time we’d talked. “Fair enough. Here’s something you haven’t heard yet—my parents want me to help teach some classes at Aunt Drina’s school until the recital.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m doing it against my best judgment. Mom and Dad pretty much guilted me into it even though they know my time is already overallocated.” I loved that last word, “overallocated.” Not because I loved having more tasks than time, but it was so efficient.

  “I hate to say this, but I agree with your parents. Your aunt has always been there for you.”

  Side-eyeing her was hard when she had her head on my shoulder, but I tried, anyway. “Et tu, Leia?”

  I could feel her shoulder shift up in a shrug. “She helped you when it came to figuring out things with me.”

  That was true. Not only had Drina helped me draw up a plan of attack for telling my parents about Leia, but she had comforted me and was my confidante through my overanalysis (“Does she like me? How can I tell? Should I invite her to my party? Does kissing mean she wants to be my girlfriend? What about handholding?”)

  Leia continued without waiting for a response. “Besides, you loved dancing. Maybe it will help you relax a little.”

  I scrunched my nose at her, even though I knew she couldn’t see my face. “I don’t have time to relax.”

  I didn’t have to see it, but I could practically feel her eye roll. “You’re a senior with an awesome GPA. Unless you totally fail everything, you’re going to be fine.”

  “Tell that to the AP test graders. And what if I wanted to be valedictorian?” I flung that last bit out knowing it would get a laugh out of her.

  As if on cue, she let out a little “Ha.” “You can’t pull that with me. I know that ship sailed freshman year when you decided you wanted to have a life.”

  “I could still do it if I could get Christian Washington and the brain squad to drop out…” I said in my best supervillain voice.

  “No sabotaging your classmates, Grace,” she said in her Mom voice.

  “Not even for the chance to give a really boring speech at graduation about how we’re embarking on the next, exciting phase in our wonderful life journey and how we’ll always have Pine Central muskrat pride to carry us through the tough times?”

  She tried to stifle a giggle, but I could feel her shaking next to me. “That muskrat pride is a powerful thing.”

  “Don’t mess with us, we’re like the seals of the rodent family. Noble and web-footed.”

  She set aside her cup of water ice and reached out to cover my hand with hers. “Well, noble seal-rodent-person, I think helping your aunt is the right thing to do and that it will be good for you.”

  I felt the air deflate out of me and resisted the urge to let my voice grow whiny as I said, “She wants me to do a teacher dance. It’s going to take so much of my time to prepare for it.”

  Leia grinned at me. “Even better. I loved watching you dance.”

  “You did?” Maybe I was fishing for flattery, but a part of me still wanted to hear her say what I knew she was about to say.

  “Yes. You’re so talented and I loved your costumes… I mean, spandex looks really hot on you,” she said, with a small giggle, “much hotter than a cheer uniform. And…” her voice dropped into a more serious tone, “it’s probably one of the few times when I see you actually let go and enjoy yourself. It’s a part of you that you don’t let people see a lot and I love it.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about. “I let go all the time.”

  “Sure,” she said, drawing out the word.

  “No, seriously, I do.”

  Leia had the temerity to actually roll her eyes at me. “Grace, I love you, but you’re the definition of ‘wound up.’ Your entire life revolves around your plans.” Her phone alarm went off and she sat up, frowning at the screen. “Well, time to turn into a pumpkin.” She stood, but not before dropping another soft kiss on my lips. “I’ve gotta go, but I’m glad you’re doing this. It’s good for you.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  She leaned down to drop a tiny kiss on my lips. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” I watched as she picked up her bag and headed for her car. She started the car with a painful-sounding grinding sound that turned to a rattle, stuck her hand out the window to wave goodbye, and drove off.

  May

  WEEK 19 GOAL: Perfect prom

  Chapter 9

  I was used to walking past our dining room and seeing one of Mom’s friends or Dad’s coworkers at the table, either flipping through party plans or shuffling spreadsheets. This time, though, familiar shoulder-length hair tipped in bright red and orange made me freeze and back up the second I passed the entryway. T
wo women were standing with Mom around the dining room table, studying a big piece of white paper. The younger woman with the fiery hair looked up and her grin, which was just like Phoebe’s, confirmed my guess. Phoebe’s older sister was shorter and thinner than her and had way more daring hair and fashion sense, but even though they didn’t look too much alike, they shared the same smile and big eyes, although Trixie’s were brown to Phoebe’s grey.

  “Oh, hi, Trixie and Mrs. Martins,” I said, poking my head into the entryway. Mom had offered to plan Trixie’s wedding as a wedding present, but it was still a surprise to see them both actually at the house.

  “Hey, Grace,” Trixie said in return, walking over to give me a hug. “Long time no see.”

  “You know Feebs has been trying to keep us apart since the Chloe Marks incident.” It had become an in-joke in our group that Trixie and I had a running war over my favorite new designer and her most detested ex-classmate and that Phoebe had to separate us to avoid bloodshed. In reality, it was fun having someone, other than Mom, with whom I could debate the latest fashion trends. I reached up to flick at her hair. “Your hair has definitely gotten longer since New Year’s.”

  “Yup, I’m growing it out for the wedding. I like it short but I kinda want to do this epic up-do I saw during fashion week on the Vivienne Chen runway.”

  I’d been glued to coverage of that runway show and remembered loving one updo on the next-to-last model. “Oh, I think I know the one you’re talking about. The looped buns? That was gorgeous. Really modern.”

  “Exactly. Mom thinks I’m going to regret it when I’m forty and looking over my wedding album.”

  “You will,” her mom said with a laugh. “May I remind you that you and Phoebe laugh over my wedding album every chance you get?” She looked at me and my mom with a grin. “I wanted to look so much like Cameron Diaz in My Best Friend’s Wedding and the girls always ask if I were able to lift my arms in my dress. I really couldn’t, but I looked fabulous.”