But she wrote it for American government. This spring.
Daniel took American government last year. I remember him going on and on about John Adams at our lunch table. So Nan must have gotten the syllabus from him. She’s always prepared like that. But still…writing the paper before the class even started? Extreme. Even for Nan.
And why would it be on Tim’s computer? Okay. Nan did borrow his laptop a lot when hers was a mess.
I shift the mouse, edging it to Holden Caulfield and Huckleberry Finn, Nan’s essay to be published in the literary journal. Here it is, the Lazlo-winning essay, word for word.
I know she covered for him. We both have, let’s face it. But this is so much further than I thought she’d go.
I can’t believe it. Tim’s been using Nan’s work.
I continue to stare at the screen, feeling like someone siphoned all the blood out of my head.
“Samantha, I need you! Can you un-Velcro yourself from The Boyfriend for a while?” Nan’s voice crackles over my cell, high and shaking.
“Of course. Where are you?”
“Meet me at Doane’s. I need ice cream.”
Nan’s going for sugar-rush therapy again. Bad sign. Did she go to New York with Daniel? It’s only Saturday. I thought Tim said she’d told her parents he was taking her to some Model UN and they were staying at his very strict uncle’s house.
I don’t even know if Daniel has an uncle who lives in NYC, although if he did, that the uncle would be strict is a safe bet.
The Masons’ house is much closer to town than mine, so I’m not surprised to find her sitting at the counter at Doane’s when I get there. I am surprised to find her already plowing into a banana split.
“Sorry,” she says through a mouthful of whipped cream. “Couldn’t wait. I almost jumped the counter and dug into the buckets with my fingers. I definitely need some chocolate malt salvation now. Just like Tim. Since he stopped drinking he’s like a maniac with the sweet stuff.”
“But you’re not kicking a habit,” I say. “Or are you? What’s up with Daniel?”
She turns bright red and tears come to her eyes, spill down her flushed, freckled cheeks.
“Aw, Nan.” I start to put my arms around her, but she shakes her head.
“Order yours and let’s sit at the picnic table outside. I don’t want everyone in Doane’s to hear this.”
The only other people in Doane’s at the moment are a mother with a toddler who is screaming because she won’t let him buy a foot-long Tootsie Roll. “BAD MOMMY. I’M GOING TO KILL YOU WITH A SWORD!”
“Yeah, we’d better get out of here before we’re material witnesses to a homicide,” I say. “I’ll get ice cream later. Lead the way.”
She sets her bowl in front of her on the table, scoops up the cherry, and dunks it in a pool of chocolate sauce. “This is how many million calories, you think?”
“Nan. Tell me. What happened? Tim said you were spending the whole weekend.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Daniel didn’t want anyone to know. I only told Tim the truth because I thought he could help me come up with a better cover story, but he said the Model UN and the strict uncle were inspired. Although he said it would have been even better if I’d said we were staying with his aunt at a convent.”
“You could have told me. I would never tell on you.” Does she know about Tim stealing her essays? Should I tell her?
Her eyes fill again and she dashes the tears away impatiently, taking another mountainous scoop of ice cream. “I know. I’m sorry. I was…I felt like you were too busy with the Hometown Hottie to care. I thought I’d just go and come back a Sophisticated Woman Who Took Her Relationship to the Next Level in the Big Apple.”
I wince. There’s no way I’m bringing up Tim right now. “Did Daniel use that phrase again? Maybe if we made him a little dictionary? We could translate his words into something remotely sexy. Take Our Relationship to the Next Level could be Come on, Baby, Light My Fire.”
She gulps another scoop of ice cream, swallows, then says, “What would It’s Time to Push Our Comfort Zone be?”
“Oh Nan. Really?”
She nods. “He can’t really be our age. Maybe it’s like Freaky Friday and some middle-aged insurance salesman has taken over Daniel’s body.” She scoops up another enormous spoonful.
“What comes after pushing the comfort zone, Nan?” I probe.
“Well, we were at his uncle’s town house—that part was true. But his uncle was away in Pound Ridge for the weekend, so…we’d had dinner and walked in the park—not for very long, because Daniel kept thinking someone was going to mug us. Then we walked back, and he put on music.”