Part 6 (1/2)

”No need to shout, Amelia,” she said, with what I might have taken for amus.e.m.e.nt in anyone other than her. ”Who might this special someone be?”

”Oh, no,” I said, holding out both my hands. If it wouldn't have been totally rude, I'd have made a little cross out of my index fingers and held it up toward her-that's how much she scares me. And if you think about it, with her tattooed eyeliner, she does look a little like Nosferatu. ”You are not getting that information out of me.”

Grandmere stamped out her cigarette in the crystal ashtray Sebastiano had provided, and went, ”Very well. I take it, then, that the gentleman in question does not return your ardor?”

There was no point in lying to her. Not now. Not with my nostrils.

My shoulders sagged. ”No. He likes this other girl. This really smart girl who knows how to clone fruit flies.”

Grandmere snorted. ”A useful talent. Well, never mind that now. I don't suppose, Amelia, that you are acquainted with the expression dirty dishwater is better than none?”

I guess she must have been able to tell from my perplexed expression that this was one I hadn't heard before, since she went on, ”Do not throw away this Kenny until you have managed to secure someone better.”

I stared at her, horrified. Really, my grandmother has said-and done-some pretty cold things in her time, but this one took the cake.

”Secure someone better?” I couldn't believe she actually meant what I thought she meant. ”You mean I shouldn't break up with Kenny until I've got someone else?”

Grandmere lit another cigarette. ”But of course.”

”But Grandmere.” I swear to G.o.d, sometimes I can't figure out if she's human or some kind of alien life force sent down from some other planet to spy on us. ”You can't do that. You can't just string a guy along like that, knowing that you don't feel the same way about him that he feels about you.”

Grandmere exhaled a long plume of blue smoke. ”Why not?”

”Because it's completely unethical!” I shook my head. ”No. I'm breaking up with Kenny. Right away. Tonight, as a matter of fact.”

Grandmere stroked Rommel under the chin. He looked more miserable than ever, as if instead of stroking him, she was peeling the skin away from his body. He really is the most heinous excuse for a dog I have ever seen.

”That,” Grandmere said, ”is your prerogative, of course. But allow me to point out to you that if you break off your relations.h.i.+p with this young man, your Biology grade will suffer.”

I was shocked. But mostly because this was something I had already thought of myself. I was amazed Grandmere and I had actually shared something.

Which was really the only reason I exclaimed, ”Grandmere!”

”Well,” Grandmere said, flicking ash from her cigarette into the ashtray. ”Isn't it true? You are only making what, a C, in this cla.s.s? And that is only because that young man allows you to copy his answers to the homework.”

”Grandmere!” I squealed again. Because, of course, she was right.

She looked at the ceiling. ”Let me see,” she said. ”With your D in Algebra, if you get anything less than a C in Biology, your grade-point average will take quite a little dip this semester.”

”Grandmere.” I couldn't believe this. She knew all about my grades! And she was right. She was so right. But still. ”I am not going to postpone breaking up with Kenny until after the final. That would be just plain wrong.”

”Suit yourself,” Grandmere said with a sigh. ”But it certainly will be awkward having to sit beside him for the next-how long is it until the end of the semester?-Oh, yes, two weeks. Especially considering the fact that after you break things off with him, he probably won't even speak to you anymore.”

G.o.d, so true. And not something I hadn't thought of myself. If Kenny got mad enough over me breaking up with him to not want to speak to me anymore, seventh period was going to be plenty unpleasant.

”And what about this dance?” Grandmere rattled the ice in her sidecar. ”This Christmas dance?”

”It's not a Christmas dance,” I said. ”It's a nondenominational-”

Grandmere waved a hand. This spiky charm bracelet she was wearing tinkled.

”Whatever,” she said. ”If you stop seeing this young man, who will you go to the dance with?”

”I won't go with anybody,” I said, firmly, even though, of course, my heart was breaking at the thought. ”I'll just stay home.”

”While everyone else has a good time? Really, Amelia, you aren't being at all sensible. What about this other young man?”

”What other young man?”

”The one you claim to be so in love with. Won't he be at this dance with the housefly girl?”

”Fruit fly,” I corrected her. ”And I don't know. Maybe.”

The thought that Michael might ask Judith Gershner to the Nondenominational Winter Dance had never occurred to me. But as soon as Grandmere mentioned it, I felt that same sickening sensation I'd felt at the ice-skating rink when I'd first seen them together: kind of like the time when Lilly and I were crossing Bleecker Street and this Chinese food delivery man crashed into us on his bicycle, and I had the wind completely knocked out of me.

Only this time, it wasn't just my chest that hurt, but my tongue. It had been feeling a lot better, but now it started to throb again.

”It seems to me,” Grandmere said, ”that one way to get this young man's attention might be to show up at this dance on the arm of this other young man, looking perfectly divine in an original creation by Genovian fas.h.i.+on designer Sebastiano Grimaldi.”

I just stared at her. Because she was right. She was so right. Except . . .

”Grandmere,” I said. ”The guy I like? Yeah, he likes girls who can clone insects. Okay? I highly doubt he is going to be impressed by a dress.”

I didn't mention that I had, of course, just the night before, been hoping that very thing. But almost as if she could read my mind, Grandmere just went, ”Hmmm,” in this knowing way.

”Suit yourself,” she continued. ”Still, it seems a bit cruel to me, your breaking things off with this young man at this time of year.”

”Why?” I asked, confused. Had Grandmere inadvertently stumbled across some TV channel playing It's a Wonderful Life, or something? She had never shown one speck of holiday spirit before now. ”Because it's Christmas?”

”No,” Grandmere said, looking very disgusted with me, I guess over the suggestion that she might ever be moved by the anniversary of the birth of anyone's savior. ”Because of your exams. If you truly wish to be kind, I think you might at least wait until after the final exams are over before breaking the poor little fellow's heart.”

I had been all ready to argue with whatever excuse for me not breaking up with Kenny Grandmere came up with next-but this one, I had not expected. I stood there with my mouth hanging open. I know it was hanging open, because I could see it reflected in the three full-length mirrors.

”I cannot imagine,” Grandmere went on, ”why you do not simply allow him to believe that you return his ardor until your exams are over. Why compound the poor boy's stress? But you must, of course, do what you think is best. I suppose this-er-Kenny is the sort of boy who bounces back easily from rejection. He'll probably do quite well on his exams, in spite of his broken heart.”

Oh, G.o.d! If she had stabbed a fork in my stomach and twisted my intestines around the tines like spaghetti, she couldn't have made me feel worse. . . .

And, I have to admit, a little relieved. Because of course I can't break up with Kenny now. Never mind my Bio grade and the dance: You can't break up with someone right before finals. It's, like, the meanest thing you can do.

Well, aside from the kind of stuff Lana and her friends pull. You know, girls' locker-room stuff, like going up to someone who is changing and asking her why she wears a bra when she obviously doesn't need one, or making fun of her just because she doesn't happen to like being kissed by her boyfriend. That kind of thing.

So here I am. I want to break up with Kenny, but I can't.