I am actually thrilled for her to have such epic revenge on her horror show of a high school career. I’m just having a hard time showing it at the moment. Finally, when there are only five donuts left in the box and my stomach is stretched out to maximum capacity, I smile at my young friend and say, “I’m really happy for you.”
Zay and Charley both stop talking and turn to me with matching expressions of horror.
“What?”
“How did you manage to get sprinkles on your forehead?” Zay asks.
“I don’t have sprinkles on my forehead.”
“Yeah, you do,” Charley says, pointing and making a wide circle to indicate the spread of tiny hard candy bits that I can’t feel for some reason. “And you’re literally covered in icing sugar.”
I glance down at my dress and see she’s right. I don’t care, but she is right. “Forget about that. I said I’m happy for you. You did what few people manage, which is to get sweet, sweet revenge on the jerks in your high school.”
Charley grins while Zay narrows his eyes at me. “Nope. Do not even think about it.”
“What?” I ask innocently, even though I know he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“You’re wondering how you can get your revenge on Dr. Banana Pants.”
“I am not!” I spit out, even though I totally am.
“You want me to order another glitter bomb?” Charley asks.
“You sent him a glitter bomb?” Zay asks, rubbing his temples with both hands. “What are you, twelve?”
I shrug as if to say pretty much. The donuts expand a little more, making me feel very much like I imagine a beached whale would feel. “Quick, get me some black olives. I need to balance out the sugar.”
Forty
Ben
Dev emailed me at the very end of the day yesterday and told me to report to him first thing this morning, which can’t be good. After a night of tossing and turning under the weight of regret, I’m still exhausted, even after four cups of high-test coffee. The only plus of being up all night is that I managed to write and memorize an apology speech to end all apology speeches that I’m about to use right about … now.
I knock lightly, even though Dev’s door is open. Without looking up, he says, “Come in and shut the door.”
Nuts. I do as he says, then sit down on the chair across from his desk and just wait while he taps away at his computer. After a good long minute, he lets out a sigh, then sits back and folds his arms. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”
“There’s no way I can begin to express the depth of regret I feel about how I’ve conducted myself. I lost sight of our mission and I’ve humiliated not only myself, but NASA, and my friend Gwen as well as her family.” I sigh before continuing, “I never should have allowed my personal feelings to come into play while acting as a representative of the team, and if you want to let me go, I completely understand.”
He stares at me, his brown eyes boring into mine like he’s trying to see into my soul to determine if I’m really sorry or if I’m just saying what I think he wants to hear. “Have I ever mentioned my oldest son is currently employed as a male stripper?”
What? I shake my head.
“There’s a reason for that. He got a full academic ride to Harvard and pissed it away to strip for horny old women. He’s been the single largest disappointment in my life.”
Okay, so maybe it’s not as bad as I thought. It’s not like I’ve taken my intellectual abilities for granted or something…
“Until now…”
Damn. It’s much worse.
“Do you know what you were supposed to do on Wake Up America!?”
I start to answer but he holds up one finger to stop me. “You were supposed to make astronomy more accessible, more fun, more exciting. You were supposed to make us heroes again. Do you think you did that, Ben?”
Shaking my head, I open my mouth, but he says, “Ah-a-a,” which must mean it’s still not my turn to talk. If he doesn’t want me to say anything, he should really stop asking me questions. “You confirmed for the American people that we’re narrow-minded intellectual snobs who are also, ironically, too stupid to remember we’re on national television. Are we too stupid to behave in a manner befitting of the greatest space agency on the planet, Ben?”
I stare, waiting for him to go on, which apparently is the wrong choice, because he barks, “Answer me!”
Crap. Now I’ve completely forgotten the question. Oh, right. Are we stupid? “Yes. No, I mean we’re not, I am.”
“Do you know what I spent my day doing yesterday?”
“No, I—”
“Be quiet. I’m the one who’s talking here,” Dev says.
“I spent the day taking calls from reporters who wanted the inside scoop, a four-star general who was mad as hell about your conduct and wants you court-martialled—”
“Court-martialed? That’s not a thing at NASA.” Is it?
“If he has his way, it will be.”
“You know who else called me? Some woman named June Devereaux, who you called” — he glances down to consult his notes — “a meddling busybody. Looks like we’re going to hear from her lawyer for a defamation suit.”
I snort at that, even though I really shouldn’t. “Good luck with that, June.” Dev’s nostrils flare and I mutter, “Sorry.”
“If all of that wasn’t enough, your mother called.”
My shoulders slump. Seriously, my mom?
“We wound up having quite the long chat about you. Apparently, Lydia thinks I should force you to go home for a few months to get your head on straight. I’m not sure she’s wrong about that.”
“You can’t actually send me home,” I tell him. “You can fire me, but you can’t physically put me on a plane to Oregon.”
“I know that, but believe me, your mom and I racked our brains to come up with ways to make that happen.”
“Am I being fired?” I ask, my palms feeling suddenly as clammy as a pot of hot chowder.
“I thought about it. In fact, last night when I got home, I was positive I was going to end your chances of ever working at NASA again.” He lets me stew on that for a minute before adding, “But then I talked it over with Dina at supper and she said, ‘Dev, you’re going to do with Ben what I did with Errol.’”
“Your son, the…” Don’t say stripper. Don’t say stripper. “…stripper?”
Nuts. Well, at least I whispered it.
He nods, a pained expression passing over his face. “Dina and Errol still have a wonderful relationship, whereas he and I haven’t spoken in over a year. She told me that you made a mistake, but that one thing doesn’t define who you are, and you still have a lot of value to bring to the team.”
Thank you, Dina!
“So I called your mom and told her I wasn’t sending you home, but instead, I’m stripping you of your spokesperson duties and handing them over to Carla.”
Phew! I hated that bit anyway.