I could hardly sleep that night thinking up ways to introduce Alyce to L-O-V-E.
No hooking her up with a random guy. He’d have to be someone really amazing, who accepted her unique style and wasn’t easily intimidated by difficult mothers. He also needed to get along with Eli and me, too, so we could go on double dates.
Finding The Perfect Guy for Alyce would not be easy.
But I was up for the challenge, tossing and turning with whirling thoughts. I thought about the advice of a self-help book I had called Perfecting the Art of Perfection. The book advised accepting your imperfections; you’re only limited by your own expectations, so aim for the best. Still, none of my books offered practical methods for matchmaking, and I wondered if I should stop by a bookstore to search for one. Finally, at 5:20 a.m., I gave in to restlessness and got up.
Remembering how annoyed I’d been when Grammy wore the wrong kind of clothes for my body, I was true to Alyce’s creative spirit and slipped on a black ankle-length jacket over a dark-brown shirt, mid-length skirt, and knee-high, lace-up boots. As I turned toward the window to pick up Monkey Bag, my gaze drifted down to the front yard — to the driveway.
Something was wrong … and then it hit me.
Stupid, stupid! Why hadn’t I noticed last night that there was only one car in the Perfetti driveway? And it wasn’t Alyce’s piece-of-crap dented station wagon.
Alyce bought her junker car after winning a local photography contest. She thrived on complaining that the car drank gas and made noises that sounded like farts, the tires were almost tread bare, and the crack in the side window looked like a smiling skeleton. Alyce really loved her car.
So where was it?
Unfortunately, I could guess the answer. Damn and double damn.
Alyce must have driven her car to Green Briar but parked it out of sight, which was why I didn’t spot it. I needed to get Junkmobile back before her mother woke up and saw that it was missing.
But when I tried to call Grammy at my real house, I got an automated voice asking me to leave a message. So I tried a different number.
“Amber?” Dustin answered right away. Even at this insane hour of the morning, Dustin was manning his “Headquarters.” I heard the hum of computers and a soft jingle from the keys he had dangling from his ceiling. He worked part-time for a locksmith and had a hobby of collecting unusual keys.
“Yeah, I’m still Alyce.”
“What do you need?”
“I don’t only call when I need something,” I argued.
“So you’re just calling to say good morning?”
“That, too. And I need a ride.”
“Right now?”
“Please,” I said with exaggerated sweetness.
“I haven’t even eaten breakfast yet.”
“You never eat breakfast.”
“That’s beside the point. I might have plans and leaving could be really inconvenient. You know, I do have a life too,” he pointed out.
“I do know. But I thrive on adding drama to it.”
“True. Should I thank you?”
“A ride would be enough.”
“What’s the hurry?”
“I think Alyce left her car near Green Briar and I need to get it before it’s (a) stolen (b) towed away or (c) mistaken for garbage and hauled off to the dump.”
He groaned. “Amber, sometimes you make me crazy.”
“Only sometimes?”
“Continually,” he amended. “All right, I’ll be there in a half hour.”
“Twenty minutes?”
“Don’t push your luck.”
Dustin was such a loyal friend that I’d be lost without him — literally. Not that I’d ever admit this to him. He already had a big enough ego and grand dreams of world domination.
After leaving a note for Alyce’s mother on the table saying I’d be back in a few hours, I stepped outside, shivering at the cold, misty air. The sun was creeping up through trees, a golden hue shivering through branches and casting strange shadows that brought back memories of the face I thought I’d seen last night.
That face. Could it really have been Gabe?
In the light of morning, this seemed ridiculous. I was just being seriously paranoid. All I’d seen was a neighbor crossing the lawn or someone out for an evening walk. Even if Gabe were around, he wouldn’t recognize me in Alyce’s body.
Dustin showed up in less than twenty minutes. I knew he’d come right away, both because once he made a decision, he acted immediately, and also because of his secret passion for speeding. Fortunately he also kept some highly illegal police-locating equipment in his car, which saved him from expensive tickets. I waved him down before he even came to a stop and jumped into the car.
Within a half hour, we’d found Alyce’s car, parked on a side street almost a mile from Green Briar.
Dustin leaned against the side of Alyce’s car as I pulled keys out of Monkey Bag. “Should I follow you back to Alyce’s house?” he asked. “Or are you off somewhere else?”
I hesitated, torn between the wants and the responsibilities of my assignment. I wanted to get started right away on finding a boyfriend for Alyce because I was sure this would solve her problems. But I couldn’t forget the list of locations and dates. I had a duty to follow through on her plans — and she’d planned to go to someplace called Liberty today.
When I explained this to Dustin, he — as usual — had a solution.
“Let’s go to my Headquarters,” he said. “I’ll do some checking on that list, find out if you’re right about those places being cemeteries. I don’t know of a city nearby named Liberty, but I think I’ve seen the name on a street sign or something. Then we’ll tackle the matchmaking issue.”
“Really think we can find someone great for Alyce?” I asked hopefully.
Dustin folded his skinny arms against his chest. “Do you want the truth?”
“Probably not, but you’ll give it to me anyway.”
“And you’ll ignore my advice.”
“Only the stupid stuff.”
“Stupid stuff would be a fitting topic for your matchmaking scheme.” He waved his hands expressively. “You may be inside Alyce’s body but you’re not thinking like her. If you set her up with some random guy, she’ll kill you.”
“But it’s not going to be a random guy. I’ll find the right guy.”
“Should I point out the serious flaws in your plan?”
I sighed as I leaned against the open door of Alyce’s car. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But I know this is the right thing to do. Love is the answer to Alyce’s crisis. She’ll never be lonely again if I can hook her up with TRG.”
“What if there is no Right Guy?”
“Pessimism is a hideous personality flaw and very unattractive,” I said, giving him a scolding shake of my head. “Don’t criticize unless you can offer a better plan.”
“How can I when I don’t know what’s going on with Alyce?”
“I told you — it’s all about love. Or lack of it. Maybe you should try it yourself, then you’d know all about love.”
“Oh, and you know it all?” He was mocking me but since I needed his help, I let it pass.
“Sure.”
“Ha!” He chuckled. “Okay, let’s say that Alyce wants a boyfriend. How do you propose to find one for her?”
I stared pointedly into his eyes. “I have this really brilliant friend who can find out anything with the click of a mouse.”
“He must be a loser if he doesn’t have anything better to do than play matchmaker for you.”
“Actually he’s a genius.”
“Never heard of the dude.”
I laughed, knowing from his half smile and the thoughtful twist of his lips that he was already mentally downloading ideas.
A short while later I was following him into his “Headquarters”—a bedroom without a bed, where power cords lurked like snakes, slithering on the floor beneath tables and desks covered with computer equipment. He got to work right away, tapping keys on a central computer.
“What are you typing?” I asked, leaning on the back of his russet-brown leather chair.
He shushed me, his fingers flying over the keyboard.
Coding terminology meant nothing to me, so I didn’t pay much attention until the name of my high school popped up with an official page demanding a password. Dustin stood up so abruptly I had to jump back so he didn’t knock me over. He shifted to a different computer, typed on the keyboard, murmured to himself, then returned to the main computer. The Halsey High site opened up to lists of names and financial data — which I was fairly sure were off-limits to students.
“Eureka! Now I just need to hit … ” His words trailed off as squares of colorful photos flooded the screen.
“What are those?” I asked.
“Yearbook pictures.”
Bending to look closely, I saw names and squared photographs. “These are really current! But the yearbook isn’t even finished yet.”
“That doesn’t mean the information isn’t available … if you know how to sneak through the back door.” Dustin grinned. “So we’ll match Alyce’s information with senior guys and find out if anyone is twisted enough for her.”
I smacked his shoulder. “Don’t talk about her like that. Just get to work.”
“I am. But I’ll need some data from you about Alyce.”
I looked at him, waiting for him to laugh at his lame attempt at a joke. But he didn’t even crack a smile. “You’re kidding, right?”
“About what?” He blinked.
“Asking me for info on Alyce when we’re all best friends and you know all about her.”
He swiveled his chair slightly, glancing away from me. Then he cleared his throat. “Actually … no.”
I gripped the edge of a scanning machine. “What do you mean, no?”
“I’m not as close to Alyce as you seem to think. I hang out with you and Alyce hangs out with you, so we’re together a lot. But only because of you — you’re the nucleus of our friendship. When you were in the hospital, Alyce and I barely talked even when we were in the same room. We just don’t have much in common … except you.”
I could not believe what I was hearing.
“That’s how it’s always been,” Dustin went on. “You’re so sure everything is how you see it that sometimes you don’t see what’s really going on. I’m not saying I don’t like Alyce, because I do. I respect her individuality and she’s an amazing artist. Whenever I see one of her baskets, I’m like WOW! And you got to respect anyone with the guts to wear a monkey backpack to school.”
He laughed, but I didn’t. I’d had no idea he and Alyce weren’t tight. If I’d been wrong about my best friends, what else was I wrong about?
“So why aren’t you and Alyce best friends?”
“I’m not really sure. We just never have anything to say to each other. Alyce puts out a vibe, like barbed wire on a fence, warning everyone to back off and not get close.”
“No she doesn’t.”
“Not with you. But if you think about it, when the three of us are together, who’s the one usually doing the talking?”
Answering would be self-incriminating, so I pursed my lips and glared.
“I’m just saying … ” He shrugged.
“Saying that my best friend isn’t who I think she is.”
“Is anyone?” he asked philosophically. “Alyce is a cool person and I have her back if she needs anything, but I can’t joke around with her like I can with you. For a long time now I’ve suspected there’s something secretive going on with her. Maybe this is a chance to find out what it is.”
“Maybe,” I said thoughtfully, then gestured to his computer and said we should get back to work.
He seemed relieved to change the subject and for the next ten minutes, I answered as many questions as I could about Alyce. Things she loved, like black-and-white movies; her favorite color (purple); things she hated, like holidays (except Halloween), pink anything, girls who talked in baby voices, and poor dental hygiene. She scorned team sports and wasn’t involved in extracurricular activities except the Halsey Hospitality Club that I started our freshman year. Alyce, Dustin, and I used to be the only members, but recently a bunch of volunteers had signed up. As president, I officiated at meetings and distributed “Hello Halsey!” gift baskets to new students. Dustin did paperwork, and Alyce worked behind the scenes creating these beautiful baskets.
When I was done answering questions, Dustin inputted everything and accessed some records for the school yearbook. After a few minutes, a printer started up.
“Got it!” Dustin announced when the printer was silent and a single sheet of paper fluttered in a tray. He scooped up the paper and held it out for me. “Here. The top three ‘love’ matches for Alyce.”
With hopes fluttering, I read the names:
1. Zachary Hernandez
2. Kyle Mondovey
3. Taylor A. Pate
Oh. My. God.
Staring down at the printout, my throat went drier than a desert in a drought. I could hardly speak. No freaking way could Dustin be serious! This had to be a joke. Ha, ha, just messing around so he could mock me and prove my idea sucked.
Zachary wore neat, buttoned-down shirts and was always flashing a big grin like he was running for election — which could be the case, since he was on the Student Council and president of the photography club. While I didn’t know Zachary personally, I knew enough to worry for his personal safety if he ever got too close to Alyce. She’d run him through the garbage disposal and feed his remains to her cat.
Kyle’s rebel ’tude might intrigue Alyce: black leather, shaved head, piercings, and front teeth sharpened to dagger points. He was rumored to have a mob uncle and be only recently returned from his true alma mater, Juvie. And those weren’t the worst rumors — his last girlfriend couldn’t hide her bruises with makeup and, after showing up with a broken arm, she “coincidentally” transferred to another school.
“Amazing results, huh?” Dustin asked me.
“How can you possibly ask me that? Alyce could never fall in love with any of these people. Zachary is a total tool — she can’t stand guys like him. And Kyle — well, he scares me. It’s not safe to mess with someone with family connections.”
“You know better than to listen to rumors. His uncle isn’t in the mob. He works at a mobile phone company.”
“That doesn’t explain the bruises on his last girlfriend, Keesha, and I saw her broken arm.”
“The computer doesn’t lie,” Dustin insisted as he scooped the papers out of my hands. “These three guys are the top matches for Alyce.”
“Guys?” I snorted. “FYI, Dustin. Taylor isn’t even a guy.”
“What are you saying?”
“Taylor Ann Pate is in my gym class, and she’s definitely female.”
Biting his lower lip, he glanced down uneasily at the paper. “That’s not possible. I couldn’t miss such an important detail. Still, it’s easily fixed. I’ll delete Taylor from the list. That still leaves us two promising matches. Are you ready to proceed to the next step?”
“Next step?” I asked uneasily.
“Contact in a public setting.”
“You mean … dates?”
“How else will you select the best candidate for Alyce?”
“No, no, no way.” I pulled over a chair and sank next to him. “I hadn’t thought about that … I mean … How can I go out with other guys? I won’t cheat on Eli.”
“You won’t be going out — Alyce will.”
“With me in her body. Eww! What if Zachary or Kyle try to kiss me?”
“That would be a great opportunity to judge their compatibility. I suspect Alyce’s body will let you know which guy she prefers. But you don’t have to go through with this. I told you I think it’s a bad idea. In my experience digging up dirt on politicians, love is never the answer but a mistake that leads to their downfall.”
“That’s lust, not love,” I argued.
“Is there a difference?”
“That’s the kind of comment I’d expect from someone who’d rather date strangers he meets online.”
“It’s only happened twice … well, three times if you count that one that lied about her age.”
“You bragged about hooking up with an older woman,” I remembered with a chuckle. “Until you found out she was older than your mother.”
“A lesson learned and not to be repeated. I’ve sworn off romance until after college. I have too much to accomplish, anyway — like today I’m going to a protest. But before I go, I’ll try to set up dates for you.”
“Thanks … I think.”
He gave me a deep look. “Sure you want to go out with these guys?”
I didn’t want to — but this was for Alyce. And I owed her.
So I took the printout from Dustin’s hand, studied the photos, then handed the paper back to Dustin. “Okay. Set up the dates.”