The Chaos of Standing Still Page 16

  Mom: The news says all the flights are canceled!

  Mom: And your airline isn’t offering hotel vouchers.

  Mom: Cheap bastards.

  Mom: I tried booking you a hotel myself but the one inside the airport is full.

  Mom: And the rest can’t get their shuttles to the terminal.

  Mom: Because they’ve closed the roads.

  Mom: I should have booked you a room when I had the chance.

  I dismiss each text message as soon as it comes in and keep typing. Keep asking. Keep searching.

  “Hello?” Siri says, waving a hand in front of my face. A hand I barely even see. A hand that might as well be a gnat for all it does to deter me from my quest. “I’m talking to you. Earth to Mopey Girl.”

  She may very well be talking to me, but I’m not listening. I turn my back to her and keep tapping.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  “Uh, what is she doing?” I hear Siri whisper to Xander.

  “I have no idea,” Xander whispers back.

  I hear the sound of a phone ringing, and my index finger pops up, ready to ignore the call, before I realize it’s not my phone. It’s not my ringer. My phone is on vibrate anyway.

  “Sorry,” I hear Xander say from what seems like a galaxy away from here, “I have to take this. I’m just going to step away for a minute.”

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  “She’s not listening to me,” Siri complains to someone. Probably Jimmy. “I don’t like it when people don’t listen to me.”

  “We know,” Jimmy agrees.

  “Yeah,” Siri says delicately. “I’m just gonna take that now.”

  Before I can react, she’s ripped the phone right out of my fingers. My hands paddle uselessly in the air, like I’m drowning in a pool without water.

  “Hey!” I say, trying to sound angry. Trying to muster up any emotion besides shock and numbness. “Give that back!”

  “You can have it back when you learn not to abuse it. You went a little cuckoo there for a minute. Scared the shit out of poor Jimmy here.”

  I look to Jimmy. His expression is blank. Until he realizes he’s supposed to play along, and he twists his face into a theatrical grimace.

  “See?” Siri says.

  My breathing starts to grow ragged. “Please,” I beg her. “Please. I have to have it back. You have to give it to me. I really need it.” There’s desperation in my voice. I can hear it. Siri can hear it. The whole airport can hear it. “GIVE ME THE FUCKING PHONE BACK!!!”

  Siri remains impressively calm in the face of my freak-out. “See, this,” she says, twirling her finger in my face. “Is why I’m not giving it back. That’s not a normal person’s reaction to losing their phone. You clearly are in need of a phonetervention.”

  “I don’t need a phonetervention!” I snap. “I just need my phone back.”

  Siri looks to Jimmy. “That sounds like an addict to me.”

  “Mmm hmm,” Jimmy agrees with a purse of his lips, and I shoot him a scowl.

  I try to reel in my emotion and keep my tone calm and measured. “I’m not an addict. Can I please just have my phone back? I was in the middle of something very important.”

  Siri glances down at the phone, making my stomach clench. “Yeah, I can see why Googling how automatic doors work is really pressing stuff.” She slides my phone into the pocket of her jacket. “Now, on to the really urgent matter of the night. How are we going to celebrate New Year’s in less than four hours?”

  Jimmy starts to shake his wide hips and pump his fists forward and back, like he’s in a rowing crew. “Partay in the airport! Partay in the airport!” he sings.

  I stare vacantly at the two of them. We’re trapped in this godforsaken place for who knows how long and they’re thinking about parties?

  “Okay,” Siri begins, unzipping her jacket. Her voice takes on an official-sounding tone. “Lola from the first-class lounge in the A terminal can score us some good booze. She’s got the key to the liquor closet. Marcus has an extra room at the Westin that he said I could use. Arnie from baggage services can get us into Lost and Found. We’ll ask Ivanna from Auntie Anne’s, Kurt from Hope’s Cookies, and Bethany from Dunkin’ Donuts to bring the grub.”

  “Ooh!” Jimmy pipes in excitedly. “Abby at the Hertz counter has awesome playlists on her phone. And she slept with Theo from hotel security, so she can boob-flash us out of any problems.”

  “Good,” Siri commends. She digs into her pocket, takes out the phone—my phone—and swipes it on. I feel confident that at least it’s locked with a passcode now, so she can’t actually use it.

  But then I watch in horror as Siri expertly taps four digits into the keypad, and the screen unlocks. She immediately starts typing a note, mumbling to herself. “Abby, music and boob security. Lola, booze. Ivanna, Kurt, and Bethany, food.”

  I gasp. “How did you do that?”

  She glances at me briefly. “Please,” she says. “One-two-three-four? That’s the most common passcode in the world.”

  I wilt in defeat. Of course I would use the most common password in the world. Of course I’m that boring and predictable. And of course Siri would know that.

  I try to grab again at the device, but she swings it out of reach.

  “And let’s see if Gabe can borrow some decent speakers from the Bose kiosk,” Jimmy suggests.

  She adds this to the list.

  “Can I please have my phone back?” I ask again as politely as I can.

  Siri shuts off the screen and slides the phone back into her pocket. “Nope. It’s got all of our party notes in it. It’s an accomplice now. I can’t let it out of my sight.”

  I huff. “I’ll e-mail you the note.”

  “No go. My phone is dead. I need yours.” She looks to Jimmy. “Come on. The ball drops in T-minus three hours and fifty-eight minutes, and we have a lot of work to do. I’m tasking you with decorations, food, and music. I’ll handle the guest list.”

  Jimmy and Siri share a nod before striding off into the crowded terminal.

  And I have no choice but to follow.

  Three months before she died, Lottie got one of her hunches. Hunches were common with Lottie. She was convinced she had “minor” ESP. Not full-blown telepathy, but an inkling of it.

  “I can’t control it,” she once told me. “I don’t know when it’s going to strike. It just hits me and I have to roll with it.”

  She’d texted me earlier that morning, providing very little information apart from the following:

  Lottie: Wanna hear something crazy?

  Me: Always.

  Lottie: I’m coming over in 5. Get your mom’s keys.

  Lottie had her own car. I had to borrow my mom’s whenever I wanted to go somewhere. But by the time I texted her back to ask why I was tasked with securing our transportation, Lottie was already at my door.

  “Did you get the keys?”

  I glanced over her shoulder. Her beautiful, shiny black BMW was parked at the curb. “Why aren’t we taking your car?”

  “Because he knows my car.”

  I sighed, the comprehension suddenly sinking in. This was bound to be one of Lottie’s revenge rampages. They weren’t entirely commonplace, as Lottie was usually the one to lose interest in a guy first, but every once in a while, on a blue moon, a boy broke up with Lottie.

  She didn’t react as any normal teenage girl would. She didn’t cry in her bed and eat junk food and lament about never finding anyone else again.

  Lottie was an active dumpee.

  She didn’t suffer heartbreak.

  She avenged it.

  “Do we have to?” I asked, whining a little. It was a Saturday afternoon, and I had just started sketching on the back porch.

  Lottie glanced down at my clothes. I knew exactly what she was thinking. She was weighing her options. Sweatpants, tank top, and, flip-flops weren’t the ideal attire for an accomplice, but waiting for me to change would put
too much time and distance between her and her retribution.

  Lottie was a right-now kind of girl.

  She inevitably decided that my outfit would have to suffice, because instead of making me change, she said, “Yes, we have to. Get the keys. We don’t have much time.”

  “How long are you going to keep my phone?” I ask, trailing behind Siri and Jimmy like a lost puppy. As we go, I keep an eye out for Xander, but I don’t see him. I remember him saying he was going somewhere to take a phone call, but this concourse is huge. He could be anywhere.

  Siri barely looks back at me. “As long as it takes for you to stop being Mopey Girl and start being Fun Girl.”

  I sigh. “For the last time, I’m not Mopey Girl.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Jimmy whispers loudly.

  “I heard that.”

  He flashes me a warm smile. “I know.”

  I’m starting to feel antsy. The idea of my phone in someone else’s custody is making my fingers twitch. I make a mental list of my options:

  1. Tackle Siri to the ground, pin her down with my knees, while I reach for the phone in her pocket.

  2. Report the phone stolen to airport police.

  3. Blackmail Siri by threatening to warn the authorities about her party unless she gives the phone back.

  I immediately rule out options two and three, because the idea of doing anything that might get me near that airport office again is simply out of the question. And option one is probably a long shot given that I don’t have any martial arts skills.

  I decide my best bet is to just appeal to the friend.

  “So, Jimmy,” I say, trying to keep my voice light and conversational. “What was that final bingo square you needed?”

  “Couple on the Verge of a Breakup. Why?”

  “No reason,” I reply with a shrug. “Just that I happen to know of one.”

  He stops walking and turns to face me, his expression grave. “Where?”

  “That’s a very good question. How badly do you want to know?”

  “Do not play with my heart, Mopey Girl.”

  I sigh again. “My name is Ryn, okay?”

  “Do not play with my heart, Ryn. Stranded Passenger Bingo is a very serious game with very serious consequences.” Then he breaks into laughter. “Dang it, I almost made it through that with a straight face. But seriously. Where is this doomed couple you so speak of?”

  Siri, having noticed her partner in crime missing, stops and turns back to us with an impatient hip jut. “Guys. What are you doing back there? We have a lot to do. Let’s go!”

  I beckon Jimmy to come closer. “Get me the phone back and I’ll tell you.”

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Suddenly, Siri is next to us, yanking Jimmy by the shirtsleeve. “Don’t let her sweet-talk you into stealing her phone for her.” She points to me like she’s scolding one of her children. “And you. Don’t even try it. Jimmy may look strong, but he knows I can kick his ass.”

  Jimmy shrugs. “She’s right.”

  Siri strides off again. Jimmy follows after her, and I follow after Jimmy, quietly cursing both of them.

  “So, Marcus gave you the key to his hotel room, huh?” Jimmy is saying to Siri when I catch up with them. He’s nudging her playfully with his elbow. “Ooh la la.”

  “No,” Siri says gruffly, turning to Jimmy. “No ooh. No la. And definitely no la. Nothing is going to happen.”

  Jimmy ignores this. “You are so getting married and having all of his babies.”

  Siri turns to scowl at him, and I can just make out the faintest trace of a blush on her dark cheek. “Am not.”

  “Who’s Marcus?” I find myself asking from behind them.

  “He’s—” Jimmy begins just as Siri blurts out, “He’s nobody!”

  Jimmy turns and whispers. “He’s a millionaire who’s in love with Siri.”

  “Really?” I ask.

  “No,” Siri responds sternly. “He’s not in love with me.”

  “He’s so in love with her.”

  “And he’s not a millionaire,” Siri says. “He’s in the Million Mile Club. There’s a difference.”

  “What’s the Million Mile Club?” I ask to their backs.

  “It’s when someone racks up over a million frequent flyer miles,” Jimmy explains, slowing to walk next to me. “The airline inducts them into a special club, and they get all sorts of perks. Marcus flies through Denver like twice a week, and he always stops by the Hub to ask Siri out, but she never says yes.”

  “Why?” I ask. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Yeah,” Jimmy prompts her. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s . . .” Siri begins with a huff.

  “She can’t come up with anything,” Jimmy whispers conspiratorially to me.

  “He’s not my type,” she finishes.

  Jimmy snorts. “Yeah, right. Rich and powerful is not your type.”

  “He’s not rich,” she argues. “And he’s only powerful within these walls.”

  “The airport hotel is entirely sold out, but he got two rooms,” Jimmy says to me.

  “How?”

  “When his assistant heard about the storm, she booked him one just in case. And then the airline gave him the other when the flights were canceled. So he’s letting Siri throw the party in the second room.”

  “Does that mean he’s coming to the party?” I ask.

  I notice Siri’s pace slow. As if she’s just considering this possibility for the first time.

  Jimmy claps ecstatically. “Yes! Yes, it does. And you’ll have to kiss him at midnight.”

  “No, I won’t,” Siri argues.

  “Oh, c’mon, you know you want to,” Jimmy says.

  “No, I don’t!”

  “You totally like him. You talk about him all the time.”

  “I mentioned him once,” Siri argues.

  “Maybe once a day.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “And you’re in denial.”

  “Is he cute?” I ask.

  Siri is suspiciously silent, but I swear I see her cheeks color again. I turn to Jimmy for an answer. He nods vehemently and fans himself while mouthing, “HOT!”

  “Then, what’s the problem?” I ask.

  “The problem is she’s scared,” Jimmy explains. “Because he really likes her. And that’s freaking her the fuck out.”

  I bark out a laugh, immediately regretting it the moment Siri turns around to give me a death stare. The idea of anything scaring Siri is just comical. She seems so tough and fearless.

  “I’m not scared,” she insists.

  “Yeah, and I’m not mopey,” I counter.

  “Oh! Snap!” Jimmy guffaws and puts his hand up for me to high-five. I do.

  And for just that brief moment, I feel like I’m part of something. A member of a club.

  “The problem is, he’s boring,” Siri says, but she sounds incredibly unconvincing.

  “He’s not boring,” Jimmy counters. “He’s actually really funny. One time he came to the counter and made this joke about—”

  “And old,” Siri interrupts.

  “Twenty-six is not that old.”

  “That’s seven years older than me!”

  “Your father is twelve years older than your mother,” Jimmy points out.

  “That was an arranged marriage!”

  “Well, so is this,” Jimmy declares. “I’m arranging your marriage.”

  “Don’t you have decorations and food to secure elsewhere?” Siri snaps, shooing him away like he’s a stray cat.

  Jimmy flashes me a knowing grin and salutes us both. “See you at the party!” he calls. Then he darts off to tackle his to-do list, leaving me alone with Siri, who now, believe it or not, is in an even fouler mood than when I first met her.

  After we got in the car and started driving, it didn’t take long for me to realize that Lottie and I were following someone. Lottie kept making snap decisions that she would yell fr
om the passenger seat like, “Turn here!” and “Quick! Get into the left lane!”

  But the streets were so crowded, I couldn’t figure out which car was our mark. So I just surrendered to my role in Lottie’s latest rampage and did as I was told. It wasn’t until she directed me to get on the freeway that I recognized the dark sedan two cars ahead of us.

  “Wait,” I said, squinting at the back of the driver’s head. “Isn’t that your dad’s car?”

  “Shhh!” Lottie urged, as if he could hear us from three cars away.

  “Why are we following your dad?”

  Lottie shifted in her seat. If I didn’t know any better, I would have said that she looked nervous. But I did know better. And Lottie never got nervous. It just wasn’t in her vocabulary. Plus, I was usually a big enough bundle of nerves for the both of us.

  “Move to the right lane or we’ll lose him,” she directed.

  “Lottie. That’s not an answer.” But I still did as I was told.

  “I had a hunch,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “About your dad?”

  “He’s cheating on my mom.”

  I swerved and nearly sideswiped the car in the next lane.

  “Ryn!” Lottie screamed.

  “Sorry!” I screamed back, then took a deep breath in an effort to calm myself. “What do you mean he’s cheating on your mom?”

  “I don’t think that leaves much room for interpretation.”

  I was gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles were turning splotchy. “How do you know? Did you see him with another woman?”

  The thought of Lottie’s parents splitting up made me sick to my stomach. More so than my own parents’ separation did. Not because the Valentines were the world’s happiest couple or anything. Lottie’s dad was hardly around long enough for them to even count as a couple. But, as of that moment, they were really the only constant in Lottie’s life. I mean, besides me. She changed her mind faster than most people change lanes. Her house, her closet full of expensive clothes, her father returning late at night from his latest business trip—those were the only things that grounded her to the earth.

  If her parents got divorced, she might float right off into space.

  “I told you,” Lottie said, growing slightly impatient with my questions. “I had a hunch.”