Page 105 of Pity Pact
I don’t want to ask this question, but I can’t help myself. “What did Tim make of that?”
“Nothing. He left right after you did.”
“So Eva stayed on her own? What a weirdo.”
“It was obvious to everyone that the only reason she was there was for her own moment in the spotlight.”
“I can’t imagine how she could think she’d be the sympathetic one being that she’s the one who left.” I want to ask if he knows how Tim’s doing, but I don’t. Even so, I hope he’s miserable.
I was really starting to think we were going to mean something to each other. I can’t believe I fell for it when he said he wanted to date me for real, which just goes to show how stupid I was. Outside of a contrived rom-com, “brace girl” could never be slated for a happy ending.
Chip interrupts my pity party. “Trina finally asked her to stop talking to people because she was distracting everyone from why they were there.”
“How did she take that?” I want to know.
“I have no idea. Brittany and I were so disgusted by the whole thing, we hid out in a corner.”
“How’s Brittany doing? I really like her, and I’m sad we haven’t had an opportunity to get to know each other better.”
“She was wondering if you’d be interested in having supper with us tonight,” he says.
“Isn’t she back in Chicago until the next taping?”
“She decided to stay in town.” In a quieter voice, he adds, “We’ve been spending time together off the show.”
“Breaking the rules, are you?” I tease. And why shouldn’t they? The wayMidwestern Matchmakeris going, they’ll be off theair in no time. I can’t imagine their fans putting up with all the outrageous changes they’ve made. Having said that, they’re liable to get a lot more viewers after this season airs—especially after they broadcast my split personality.
“So yes, to having dinner with us?” he asks.
“Why not? Where should I meet you and when?”
“I thought we could go straight from our faculty meeting after school,” he says. “I know it’ll be early but I’m not a real night owl.”
“I go to bed super early on school nights, too, so that’s perfect.”
“I’ll drive,” he says.
“Are you embarrassed to be seen in my car, Chip?” I tease.
He laughs. “No, but I owe you one.”
“Fine by me,” I tell him.
After he leaves, I get back to feeling sorry for myself. In fact, I’m so invested in the process I barely teach my kids anything all day. I pretty much just let them run wild.
The faculty meeting goes smoothly. It’s just a lot of talking about how to get the kids to stop toilet papering the bathroom walls and grumbling about the new initiative to raise the state grade requirements—because it’s not hard enough to teach these hellions everything they’re already slated to learn.
When the meeting is over, Chip and I walk out of the school together. “Where are we eating?” I ask as we near his car.
“It’s a surprise.”
“There are only so many restaurants in town and none of them are what I’d call surprising.”
“You’ll see,” he says with a smile that makes me a little nervous.
When we get to Chip’s brand-new SUV, I tease him about what a junker it is. After we get inside, he says, “In order for this to be a proper surprise, you need to close your eyes.”
“No.”