Listen to Your Heart
Page 36
She smiled. “See you tomorrow.”
She headed for the door.
“Victoria?” I called.
“Yeah?” She turned back.
“Thanks for carrying us on the show.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I like it.”
I left the room and made my way outside to my car. I was surprised to see Diego leaning against it. I wanted to ask him why he didn’t call in. Why he had to throw me off like that. But I couldn’t very well say that when he still thought he was anonymous. And even if I could, it made no sense that him not calling in would throw me off. It shouldn’t have.
He looked past me, like he was hoping someone else was with me. Of course he was. He was hoping for Alana.
“Hey,” he said when I reached him.
“Alana changed jobs on the podcast,” I said. “She comes on Thursdays now.”
“She did?” he asked. “What does she do now?”
“Um …” I didn’t remember. “I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask her.” So would I, apparently.
“I’ll ask her Friday.”
“What’s Friday?”
He bit his lip. “The cook-off? Right? Aren’t you judging it?”
“Oh yeah. I mean yes. I am.”
“Are you okay? You seem down.”
“I’m fine.”
“Did it not go well in there?” He nodded toward the building behind me.
“Not my best showing.”
“How so?”
I didn’t need to tell him this, but maybe it would help to get it off my chest. Maybe he’d ease my mind about the advice we gave. “We got an email today about a kid who’s being bullied.”
“Oh, wow. That’s heavy.”
“I know. I had no idea what to say so I repeated the same thing twice. And then Victoria became Super Psychologist, and I’m just worried we gave bad advice.”
“What did you repeat twice?”
“That he … or she, I guess, the email didn’t specify … should talk to a trusted adult.”
“That’s good advice. What did Victoria say?”
“Something about projecting confidence and being surrounded by friends at all times.”
“That’s probably good advice, too.”
“It’s the probably part that worries me. Should I do something else?”
“Like what?” he asked.
There was a parking curb to my right and I sat down on it, suddenly feeling really tired. “I don’t know. Is there some way we can find out where the email originated? Find out who sent it? Send the person help? Maybe a teacher can talk to whoever wrote it.”
Diego lowered himself onto the curb next to me. “Did the email mention they wanted to hurt themselves?”
“No.”
“Then you should probably respect their privacy. But maybe you can say something at the beginning of next week’s show if that makes you feel better. Encourage the emailer to call in and ask more questions? Or even just give some more advice.”
I nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
He bumped his shoulder into mine. “It’s a call-in advice show, Kate. Whoever wrote that email knows this. They couldn’t have expected too much.”
“Yeah, that’s what they said in the email.”
“See.”
“Just when I think I’m getting the hang of this, I’m reminded that I’m not.”
“You make the show, Kate.”
My heart thrummed in my chest and I met his eyes. Why was he always so good at making me feel better? That was his talent. Making people feel better. No wonder Alana liked to be around him. I broke eye contact and for the first time noticed he was holding a magazine rolled up in his hand.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“You didn’t come to tutoring with Liza on Monday.”
“Oh, right. I was dismissed.”
He smiled. “Liza is funny.”
“Yep, she’s always had a big personality.”
He tapped my leg with the rolled-up magazine. “We got a new magazine at the center I thought you should know about.”
“Well, I guess I am the magazine inspector.” How embarrassing that he’d noticed.
He unfurled the magazine and I immediately recognized it as my favorite water sports one, Lake Life. “Do you read this one?” he asked.
“I do!” I held out my hands for it, and he placed it in them. I studied the cover. “This one isn’t three years old, though.” The date on it was this month.
“I know. Someone left it. Have you read this month’s yet?”
“No. We have them at the marina, but I haven’t had a chance.”
“You can keep that one.”
“I don’t need to steal it from the counseling center. I can get my own.”
He laughed. “You’ve seen how many magazines we have there. It’s like we’re starting a magazine museum.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
He waited expectantly, almost like he thought I’d open it right there and begin reading. But I’d already embarrassed myself enough with my apparent magazine fascination.
I stood and brushed off the back of my jeans. “I better get home.”
Diego casually stood as well. “Happy reading.”
I smiled. “Yeah. You too.” I took one step back toward my car. “No, I mean, not you too, you’re not reading. I mean, you might be, but I mean … yeah. Bye.” What was wrong with me?
A smile spread across his face. “Bye, Kate.”
Friday, after the podcast aired, we started getting the most outraged emails we’d ever seen. Mr. Looking for Love hadn’t called in, and people weren’t happy with us. As if the podcast was staged, and we arranged who did and didn’t call in.
Alana read the emails to me as we were getting ready for the cook-off at my house. Apparently part of Alana’s new job in postproduction was responding to emails we didn’t have a chance to read on air, and deciding which ones we should read on future episodes.
“This girl says that she feels you guys strung her along and forced her to listen until the end with your fake promises,” Alana said, looking at her phone as we stood in my kitchen.
I let out a single laugh. “That’s probably because at the beginning of the show Victoria said I wonder if Looking for Love will call in today. Do you think people will stop listening because of this?” I asked, suddenly worried.
“No,” Alana said decisively, putting her phone down on the counter. “People are obviously emotionally invested if they are this angry. And besides, people don’t listen just for Diego.”
“These emails sure are making it seem like it.”
Alana turned to her grocery bag and pulled out a pineapple. We had gone to the store right after school for Alana’s supplies. Diego was bringing his own.
“How are you going to respond?” I asked, nodding toward Alana’s phone.
“How about: Get a life?” Alana offered with a mischievous grin.
“Not sure Ms. Lyon would approve of that.”
She walked back over to her phone and checked the screen. “Here’s a good email.”
“Yeah?” I put the chicken in the fridge.
“ ‘Dear Kat.’ ” She paused and wiggled her eyebrows. “It doesn’t include Victoria.”
She headed for the door.
“Victoria?” I called.
“Yeah?” She turned back.
“Thanks for carrying us on the show.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I like it.”
I left the room and made my way outside to my car. I was surprised to see Diego leaning against it. I wanted to ask him why he didn’t call in. Why he had to throw me off like that. But I couldn’t very well say that when he still thought he was anonymous. And even if I could, it made no sense that him not calling in would throw me off. It shouldn’t have.
He looked past me, like he was hoping someone else was with me. Of course he was. He was hoping for Alana.
“Hey,” he said when I reached him.
“Alana changed jobs on the podcast,” I said. “She comes on Thursdays now.”
“She did?” he asked. “What does she do now?”
“Um …” I didn’t remember. “I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask her.” So would I, apparently.
“I’ll ask her Friday.”
“What’s Friday?”
He bit his lip. “The cook-off? Right? Aren’t you judging it?”
“Oh yeah. I mean yes. I am.”
“Are you okay? You seem down.”
“I’m fine.”
“Did it not go well in there?” He nodded toward the building behind me.
“Not my best showing.”
“How so?”
I didn’t need to tell him this, but maybe it would help to get it off my chest. Maybe he’d ease my mind about the advice we gave. “We got an email today about a kid who’s being bullied.”
“Oh, wow. That’s heavy.”
“I know. I had no idea what to say so I repeated the same thing twice. And then Victoria became Super Psychologist, and I’m just worried we gave bad advice.”
“What did you repeat twice?”
“That he … or she, I guess, the email didn’t specify … should talk to a trusted adult.”
“That’s good advice. What did Victoria say?”
“Something about projecting confidence and being surrounded by friends at all times.”
“That’s probably good advice, too.”
“It’s the probably part that worries me. Should I do something else?”
“Like what?” he asked.
There was a parking curb to my right and I sat down on it, suddenly feeling really tired. “I don’t know. Is there some way we can find out where the email originated? Find out who sent it? Send the person help? Maybe a teacher can talk to whoever wrote it.”
Diego lowered himself onto the curb next to me. “Did the email mention they wanted to hurt themselves?”
“No.”
“Then you should probably respect their privacy. But maybe you can say something at the beginning of next week’s show if that makes you feel better. Encourage the emailer to call in and ask more questions? Or even just give some more advice.”
I nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
He bumped his shoulder into mine. “It’s a call-in advice show, Kate. Whoever wrote that email knows this. They couldn’t have expected too much.”
“Yeah, that’s what they said in the email.”
“See.”
“Just when I think I’m getting the hang of this, I’m reminded that I’m not.”
“You make the show, Kate.”
My heart thrummed in my chest and I met his eyes. Why was he always so good at making me feel better? That was his talent. Making people feel better. No wonder Alana liked to be around him. I broke eye contact and for the first time noticed he was holding a magazine rolled up in his hand.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“You didn’t come to tutoring with Liza on Monday.”
“Oh, right. I was dismissed.”
He smiled. “Liza is funny.”
“Yep, she’s always had a big personality.”
He tapped my leg with the rolled-up magazine. “We got a new magazine at the center I thought you should know about.”
“Well, I guess I am the magazine inspector.” How embarrassing that he’d noticed.
He unfurled the magazine and I immediately recognized it as my favorite water sports one, Lake Life. “Do you read this one?” he asked.
“I do!” I held out my hands for it, and he placed it in them. I studied the cover. “This one isn’t three years old, though.” The date on it was this month.
“I know. Someone left it. Have you read this month’s yet?”
“No. We have them at the marina, but I haven’t had a chance.”
“You can keep that one.”
“I don’t need to steal it from the counseling center. I can get my own.”
He laughed. “You’ve seen how many magazines we have there. It’s like we’re starting a magazine museum.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
He waited expectantly, almost like he thought I’d open it right there and begin reading. But I’d already embarrassed myself enough with my apparent magazine fascination.
I stood and brushed off the back of my jeans. “I better get home.”
Diego casually stood as well. “Happy reading.”
I smiled. “Yeah. You too.” I took one step back toward my car. “No, I mean, not you too, you’re not reading. I mean, you might be, but I mean … yeah. Bye.” What was wrong with me?
A smile spread across his face. “Bye, Kate.”
Friday, after the podcast aired, we started getting the most outraged emails we’d ever seen. Mr. Looking for Love hadn’t called in, and people weren’t happy with us. As if the podcast was staged, and we arranged who did and didn’t call in.
Alana read the emails to me as we were getting ready for the cook-off at my house. Apparently part of Alana’s new job in postproduction was responding to emails we didn’t have a chance to read on air, and deciding which ones we should read on future episodes.
“This girl says that she feels you guys strung her along and forced her to listen until the end with your fake promises,” Alana said, looking at her phone as we stood in my kitchen.
I let out a single laugh. “That’s probably because at the beginning of the show Victoria said I wonder if Looking for Love will call in today. Do you think people will stop listening because of this?” I asked, suddenly worried.
“No,” Alana said decisively, putting her phone down on the counter. “People are obviously emotionally invested if they are this angry. And besides, people don’t listen just for Diego.”
“These emails sure are making it seem like it.”
Alana turned to her grocery bag and pulled out a pineapple. We had gone to the store right after school for Alana’s supplies. Diego was bringing his own.
“How are you going to respond?” I asked, nodding toward Alana’s phone.
“How about: Get a life?” Alana offered with a mischievous grin.
“Not sure Ms. Lyon would approve of that.”
She walked back over to her phone and checked the screen. “Here’s a good email.”
“Yeah?” I put the chicken in the fridge.
“ ‘Dear Kat.’ ” She paused and wiggled her eyebrows. “It doesn’t include Victoria.”
