Save the Date (4 page)

“Definitely not,” I say, grinning at him. “You
definitely
can not see me in this dress.”

He grins back, and I have to scamper behind the curtains before he sees how much I’m blushing.

“OMG,” I whisper to Sofia. “Sexy Yo-Yo Guy is here.”

“He is?” she says, bolting up out of her seat.

“Where?” I seize her before she can poke her head out of the curtain.

“Don’t look,” I hiss. “But guess what—he’s Carolina’s son.”

“WHAT?”

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“You most certainly do
not
look like a whale, Lucille,” Carolina’s voice says patiently from the back room.

“I dooooooooo!” Lucille howls. “My belly fat is sticking out all over the place!”

“Did you talk to him?” Sofia whispers excitedly. I see Alex giving us a suspicious glance.

“Yes—tell you later,” I whisper back. “I have to take these to Vicky.”

“Good luck with that,” Sofia jokes. “She’s in a bit of a snit about Lucille’s tantrum.”

Uh-oh. I sidle into the back room where Vicky is slouching in an armchair, fully outfitted in her bridal regalia, with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Lucille is standing on the pedestal in front of the mirror, with my mom and Carolina flitting anxiously around her.

“I think you look fine,” Vicky snaps.

“But loooooooook,” Lucille whines, poking her stomach.

All right. It’s probably time for me to describe Victoria’s choice of bridesmaid dress. But first let me start by giving you some context—that is, by describing the last two bridesmaid dresses that I had to wear. That way you can appreciate the true horror of the relentless fashion crimes being
perpetrated on me.

Alex’s wedding was a really traditional, classic affair, in a church, with pretty much everything you’d expect from the world’s two most boring people. Except for her bridesmaid dresses, which I don’t think any other bride has ever inflicted on her friends. She made us wear these strapless A-line red satin dresses—sounds okay so far, right? But for
no apparent reason
, these dresses came with giant poofy rosettes sewn on them—one on the left boob, one on the right hip, a whole row around the hem at the bottom, and three across the butt. We looked like extras from
Attack of the Killer Tomatoes
, if the tomatoes had invaded a wedding and exploded all over the bridesmaids.

Alex was like, “Ooh, Jack, it’s so pretty on you! Wow! You can totally wear it to your prom!”

Yeeeeah. Apart from the fact that I was fourteen at the time of the wedding, so my prom was still three years away, there was pretty much no way I was ever going to wear that dress again.

For Sydney’s wedding, she tried to be really different from Alex. It was in a museum, she wore a light pink sheath, and everything was sleek and modern…except the bridesmaid dresses. Something happens to brides, I’m telling you. She picked this god-awful two-piece vibrant pink ensemble with dark burgundy horizontal stripes, ruffles, pleats, AND…shoulder pads. I mean, REALLY.

Guess what she said about it? “Ooh, Jack, it’s sooo cute! You can totally wear it to your prom!”

I’m really glad they’ll both be long out of the house by the time my prom finally rolls around next year.

And now there’s Victoria’s wedding. Esme hustles into the room holding my dress. For starters, it is long—Vicky wants them to drape on the floor as we walk, even if that means they get caught on our high heels. She’s been fighting with Esme about this for weeks. Vicky wants us to look like “woodland nymphs.” Esme thinks we’re going to have a six-bridesmaid pileup on
the garden stairs, and that it goes against every rule of dressmaking not to hem the dresses above our feet.

As you can imagine, I side with Esme on this one, despite her unfortunate stance on eating.

In addition, the dresses are a pale grassy green with a pattern of eNORmous pink and white roses all over them. Also, they are completely shapeless. They hang off our shoulders like big flowery sacks. And they have wide scoop necks that plunge halfway down my chest. There will be no leaning over at this wedding, no sir. Not unless I want to give all the guests a terrific shot all the way down my nonexistent chest. I’ve been practicing standing ramrod straight ever since I first saw the dresses.

“In, in, in!” Esme barks at me. I take the dress and change in a corner while Lucille keeps moaning and poking herself. She is right, I’m afraid. The dress does, um…accentuate her bulges. But, to be fair, I’m not sure there’s a dress in the world that could hide them.

“Lucille,” Vicky finally snaps, “are you my
maid of honor or aren’t you? I mean, can I get a little support, please?”

I wish Sofia were in here, so I could whisper, “Actually, I think it’s
Lucille
who needs the ‘support,’ if you know what I mean.” Oh, that’s terrible. Karma’s going to get me just for thinking that.

“I’m just
saying
,” Lucille whines, “that I look totally
horrible
in this dress.”

“Well, you don’t,” Vicky barks. “So shut up about it.” I swear, Vicky used to be very sweet. In sort of a sugary, look-how-much-nicer-I-am-than-Paris sort of a way, but still. It’s only since she got engaged that she’s turned into such a harpy. I have to wonder if Kevin is starting to worry about what he’s getting himself into.

“Girls, girls,” Carolina intervenes. “There is nothing to fight about. Victoria, it’s a lovely dress, and Lucille, all you need is some figure-enhancing underwear. Trust me, I can recommend the perfect bustier—my brides use it all the time. It’ll make a world of difference.”

See? This is why we pay her the big bucks. In
minutes, everything is smoothed over, and Lucille and Victoria are best friends again. Sometimes I wonder what Carolina would do if I started whining, too. Could she magically fix all my problems—like the Wedding Curse? Hmm. I wonder what her solution would be for the ginormous crush I have on her son. I think I won’t be mentioning that.

As Esme fusses around me with pins clamped between her lips, Carolina tries the tiaras on Victoria. When I mention Leo’s suggestion about the flowers in her hair, Vicky flips out.

“Oh my God!” she squeals. “That would be PERFECT! That would be SO PERFECT! Carolina, could we do that, really?”

“Of course we can, darling,” Carolina says, patting Vicky on the head. “Right, Kathy?”

Mom nods wearily from her spot in the other armchair. This kind of excursion tends to tire her out. I don’t know if it’s the yelling, the primping, or the full-on attention her daughters demand while they’re in the spotlight, but she
always has to take a long nap whenever we get home from a wedding-related outing.

“Oh, and Victoria,” Carolina says, “I thought perhaps next Sunday we could work on the favors and the place cards. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Sure,” Vicky says. “Sofia probably has to study for finals, but Jack can help us.”

Awesome. Another Sunday lost to wedding prep. I do believe I used to have friends and go out on weekends, but that was in the long-distant past. No, I’m kidding; I do still have friends—Rose, Kim, Mark, and Juanita—but as soon as school is over, they’re all going off on exciting summer adventures, like working in theme parks and interning at fashion magazines and stuff, while I get to stay here, serving ice cream and being a part of not only one, but two crazy sisters’ weddings. Thank goodness Sofia will be home all summer, too, getting ready for grad school in the fall.

“Don’t worry, girls,” Carolina says. “I’ll have my son Leo help us. He’s a hard worker—we’ll
be done in no time.”

Hmmmm. Things are looking up. I mean, vow or no vow, I can still enjoy his company, right? How bad could anything be, with handsome scenery like that around?

Maybe this summer won’t be so terrible after all.

Sofia goes back to school on Sunday night, so I’m stuck listening to Mom and Dad and Paris fighting for the rest of the week. As you can imagine, it’s a great environment for studying for finals. But at least I have a good excuse to stay in my room and keep my head down. The last thing I want to do is get involved in this argument.

Tuesday night, Paris storms into my room, slams the door, and throws herself dramatically down on the bed.

“My GOD,” she announces. “I’m SO GLAD that at least you and Sofia are on my side.”

I really don’t know how I ended up on Paris’s
“side” of anything. I would have considered that impossible by definition, since normally Paris is a side unto herself.

“So what are you doing on Saturday?” Paris demands. “We have to find a place for the wedding.”

“Oh—well, actually—”

“I definitely want a beach wedding,” she barrels on, “so we should do some research online. Try the Wedding Channel. Or The Knot.” She waves imperiously at my computer.

“Right now?”

“Of course right now! We only have three months! There’s no time for goofing around, Jack!”

“Well, I sort of have studying to do—there’s a paper due on Friday.”

“Jack, please,” Paris says, sitting up. “There will always be papers due, but
I
am only getting married
once
in your
lifetime
.”

Ha. Ask me why I find this hard to believe.

“And you’re my
bridesmaid
,” Paris wheedles, “and this is my special day. Come on, please
please please? I swear it’ll be fun.”

It is not fun. Paris decides that I’m not clicking on things fast enough, so she shoves me out of my own chair and monopolizes my computer for the next two hours. There is no need for this, believe me. We have two other computers with Internet access: one in my parents’ study and one in the den for family use. I wonder briefly if I can sneak out and use one of them, and whether Paris will even notice if I’m not here, but the first page of my paper is saved on my computer, and there’s no way I’ll be able to recreate that brilliance again.

Besides, Paris keeps whipping around going, “Oh my GOD! What do you think of this one? Isn’t it GORGEOUS?”

Luckily all I have to say is “yeah, wow,” and she moves on.

Finally she goes away, and I end up staying up until two
A.M
. finishing my homework and getting nowhere on my paper. I cannot WAIT for senior year. If this wedding really happens, surely Paris will move out and go live with Jiro. I’m not
sure our house will know how to deal with that much peace and quiet.

Speaking of Jiro, for now Paris has sent him back to New York, where he lives with a bunch of other models. But on Thursday at dinner she announces that she wants us to have a family event where we can all meet him.

“I think that will solve everything,” she says (dramatically, as usual). “Then you’ll see how perfect he is, and you won’t want to stand in the way of our love anymore.”

Dad rolls his eyes at Mom. Paris doesn’t notice, but I do. He does that pretty often, actually, especially when Paris is involved. Dad is kind of a bossyboots, and Paris is the only one of us who ever fights with him like this.

“Come on!” Paris says. “Alex and Sydney and Victoria all got engagement parties!”

“That’s because Alex and Sydney and Victoria all had real engagements,” Dad says, wagging his fork at her.

“Just a barbecue,” Paris whines. “Just family. It’s not a big deal. I just want you all to meet
him. Would that be so bad?”

Mom reaches over and touches Dad’s hand. “Perhaps we should give him a chance, Ken,” she says. From this I can tell that she has already caved, at least on the inside, which means Dad giving in is not far behind. This wedding is a go.

“I have nothing against
him
!” Dad protests.

“I’m sure he’s a lovely young man. I just have a problem with Paris being impetuous and rushing everything, as usual. Why not date him for a year before making any rash decisions?”

Paris takes a deep breath, but Dad cuts her off before she can start bellowing again. “I know, I know, because you
love
him,” he grumbles.

“How about Sunday?” Paris says perkily.

“We’ll have everyone over for burgers.”

“Sofia has finals,” I point out.

“I’m sure she’ll come back for something as important as
this
,” Paris says.

“And we’re supposed to work on Victoria’s favors and place cards,” I add.

Paris blows up. “Victoria, Victoria, Victoria!” she yells. “We’ve been working on her wedding
for MONTHS!” This is true. “Why can’t we spend ONE SECOND on ME for once? I NEVER ask for ANYTHING!” This is definitely not true.

“All right, sweetie,” Mom says soothingly.

“Let’s do it the following Sunday, so Sofia can be here and we can make the day all about you and Jiro. All right?”

“Fine,” Paris says, stabbing her meatloaf.

“Just family,” Dad says sternly. “Like you said.”

“And Carolina,” Paris says. “I mean, she
is
my wedding planner.”

“Fine,” Dad agrees, and there is nothing I can do to stop myself from hoping that Leo will come as well. What is WRONG with me?

I do manage to get my paper in on time on Friday, but I have another one due on Monday that I haven’t even started. And of course, on Saturday, Paris bursts into my room at eight o’clock in the morning.

“Ready?” she squeals, even though I am clearly still huddled under the covers and not “ready” for anything but more sleep. “Come on,
rise and shine,” she says, poking my shoulder and bouncing on the mattress. “We have a lot of places to see.”

“Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,” I mumble. “Later. Sleep more.”

“No, we have to go,” Paris says, bouncing on the mattress again. “I told Carolina we’d pick up her and her assistant at eight thirty, because she has to be back for a meeting with another client at three.”

I poke my head out from the blanket. “Assistant?”

“Yeah, her son is working for her this summer or something.”

I am out of bed before Paris even finishes her sentence. Half an hour to shower, pick an outfit, and get ready before finding myself in a car with Leo. I’ll have to go with my safety outfit: boot-cut jeans and a black fitted T-shirt. It’s not date-me, date-me hot, but I know it looks good on me, especially with the jade earrings my parents bought for me the last time they were in New Zealand.

I mean, not that I care if I look good for Leo, of course. Since dating him is not an option. But if you’re going to be in the company of someone that good-looking, you should at least make a little effort, don’t you think? That’s all that’s going on here.

Paris shoves me into the front seat of her jeep, but when we get to the Trapelos’ house, she says, “Okay, get in the back, Jack. Carolina should ride up front so we can talk wedding stuff.”

I hop out just as Carolina and Leo emerge from their front door. He’s wearing his sunglasses again, with a dark green T-shirt and khakis, and he looks totally yummy, especially when he grins at me.

“Good morning, Jack darling,” Carolina says, kissing both my cheeks. “I’m sorry you have to be up so early, but we will try to make this not too painful.”

“Yeah,” Leo says. “See, I brought doughnuts.” He holds up a little white bag and…well, color me smitten. Hot AND bearing doughnuts? Talk
about an unfair combination. But I will be strong, yes I will.

“Come on!” Paris hollers, honking the horn, which I’m sure the neighbors appreciate at this hour of the morning. “We have a lot to do!”

“Ah,” Leo whispers to me as we climb into the backseat, “this must be the infamous ‘most crazy sister’ that you mentioned.”

“Welcome to the monkey house,” I murmur back.

Paris is already chattering away to Carolina, handing her piles of printouts with all of her potential locations, their prices, maps, directions, etc. It sounds organized, but in reality it’s a giant stack of looseleaf that she has dropped several times, so none of the pages that are related are anywhere near one another in the stack. Carolina calmly begins sorting them as Paris peels out onto the road.

“So?” Leo asks me quietly. “What’s it like having two sisters getting married at the same time?”

“It’s about two hundred times worse than
dealing with one wedding,” I say. “But it’s only the first week. I’m sure by week five we’ll be up to a thousand times worse.”

“This should be fun, though,” he says. “Don’t you love looking at locations? It’s like, this is the foundation of the whole wedding. My mom used to take me with her all the time, and we’d act out the whole procession and where everyone would stand and where the cocktail hour would be and good places for pictures and everything.” He grins at me, looking a little abashed. “You think I’m really cool now, don’t you?”

Actually, I do.

“Don’t you have school or finals right now?” I ask. “How do you have time for this? Because I definitely don’t.” Yes, okay, I’m fishing. I’m still not sure how old he is, and he can’t possibly go to my school, or I’d have noticed him.

“Yeah, finals,” he says. “Tell me about it. Plus Mom wants me to start thinking about college applications already.”

A clue!

“You’re a junior, too?” I ask, surprised.

“Yeah, over at Ben Franklin Academy.” That’s a private school—no wonder I haven’t seen him around. “I can’t wait for summer.”

“Me too,” I agree. “Although it’ll be mostly weddings and serving ice cream for me.”

“Ice cream?”

“I work at The Yummery in town. Just Monday and Wednesday nights for now, but I’m hoping to fit in more this summer.”

“Here’s the first place!” Paris trills, pulling into a parking lot. “It’s a country club, but not one of the really expensive ones, and supposedly they have a great beach.”

“Yes,” Carolina says, but I hear a note of doubt in her voice. “Their catering is quite pricey, though.”

“Oh, I’m so going to do my own catering,” Paris says flippantly. “I make the best fried chicken ever.”

Now Carolina looks worried, like she’s wondering what she’s been dragged into. “Do your own catering, darling?” she says. “That’s quite a
task to take on.”

“It’ll be fine,” Paris says, turning off the car.

“We’ll make something really simple, and besides, Sofia and Jack will help me.”

I give Leo a significant look and he hides a grin as his mom turns around to check on me.

“Sure,” I say politely to Carolina. “I can’t wait.”

“Well, let’s see what we think,” Carolina says, climbing out of the car. Leo and I follow more slowly as Paris motors off across the lot and through the front doors.

“Why did you have to come on this excursion?” Leo asks. “Especially if you have finals to study for?”

“Well, I’m the only sister in town that Paris is speaking to,” I say wryly. “And Mom is supposed to be finding her dress for Victoria’s wedding today. She’s been putting it off because she hates shopping. Which, by the way, runs in the family, at least as far as I’m concerned.”

“I guess Paris must trust your opinion,” he says gallantly, holding the door open for me.

I snort (very elegantly). “You’ll see,” I say.

Paris and Carolina are already out on the beach with a guy from the country club, who is walking up and down with her, explaining the wedding setup. I perch on the banister of the long stone staircase that leads to the pool and then the beach.

“She doesn’t like it,” I say.

“How can you tell?” Leo shades his eyes with his hand and squints out at my sister.

“If she did like it, she’d be waving her hands all over the place and nodding a lot. Now she’s just kind of frowning and listening. Bad sign.”

“You’re a keen observer,” Leo says.

“Of my sisters?” I reply. “I don’t really have a choice. It’s either figure out how they think, or get trampled when I don’t get out of the way fast enough. I’ve managed to learn that much in seventeen years.” I’m trying to be flippant, but I’m still kind of flattered. I’ve been thinking lately that I might want to be a journalist, so that sort of compliment is exactly what I want to hear. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s pushed his sunglasses up on his head and his green eyes are
twinkling at me as he says it.

“Wow. I have no idea what that’s like,” Leo says.

“Only child?” I guess, and he nods. I can’t begin to imagine what life would be like if I got all the attention in our house. If I was the only kid Mom and Dad took on vacations. If there were no weddings to deal with until my own.

Of course, if I were an only child, I wouldn’t have Sofia. And even Alex, Sydney, Victoria, and Paris are worth it for one Sofia. I mean, I love all my sisters…but I love them more when they’re not being crazy brides.

Paris comes bounding up the steps, waving her finger in a brisk circle in the air. “Onwards and upwards,” she bellows. “Come on, guys.”

“Hey, Paris?” I ask as Carolina joins us and we follow her back to the car. “Shouldn’t Jiro be here for this? I mean…wouldn’t he want to see the options too?”

“Pfft,” Paris says. “He’ll like whatever I like. He’s
so
easygoing, you wouldn’t believe it. I
love
that.”

Plus, I imagine if she dragged Jiro around to all these wedding sites, he might figure out that she thinks they’re getting married. I’m still not convinced he knows that’s what’s happening here.

The next two places are basically wedding factories, with what appears to be the exact same white lattice gazebo planted at the edge of the ocean—“perfect for photographs!” the factory runners coo. Paris latches on to my arm and drags me around behind her, so I don’t get to talk to Leo again until the last place. But I can feel him watching me, which makes me feel all weird and tingly inside.

How could he possibly be interested in me? I haven’t done anything interesting in front of him. And I’m pretty overshadowed by Paris, who is the very definition of “interesting.” Maybe he’s just trying to figure out how such a vibrant family ended up with a dud like me.

The last place is Carolina’s suggestion. After the second wedding factory, she firmly sets aside Paris’s crazy sheaf of ideas and says, “Paris, I
know where we should go next.”