Listen to Your Heart
Page 38
“Have you been reading the emails?” Frank asked me and Alana.
In that moment, I realized that Frank might know the secret of Diego’s caller identity, too. He obviously had talked to him, knew his voice. And he had listened to that voice in the recording studio. Had he put two and two together?
But even if he had, I reminded myself, he’d gotten the same speech from Ms. Lyon about keeping identities secret. He wouldn’t say anything. At least, I hoped he wouldn’t.
I gave Alana panicked eyes, and she gave the slightest shake of her head. Did that mean Frank didn’t know?
“Yes, we have,” Alana said. “They’re pretty brutal.”
“What emails?” Diego asked from where he stood at the stove.
“For the podcast. They’re boring,” I said, trying to downplay them so Frank didn’t feel the need to elaborate. It didn’t work.
“I think they’re super entertaining,” Frank said.
“Of course you would,” Alana retorted.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked her.
“Well, obviously they’re upsetting to Kate! You’re over there devouring them as your Friday night entertainment,” she said huffily, even though she had been reading them one after another to me only an hour ago.
“Why are they upsetting to Kate?” Diego asked.
“I’m wondering the same thing,” Frank said.
I opened my mouth to answer when Alana said, “Because they’re making her stressed about the future of the podcast.”
“Not that stressed,” I said.
“Can someone fill me in here?” Diego asked.
“Oh, when Looking for Love didn’t call in this week, listeners weren’t happy,” Alana said.
Diego occupied himself with chopping tomatoes. “Why is that Kate’s fault?”
“It’s not,” Alana said. “But listeners like to take it out on someone and she’s one of the faces of the podcast, so she gets the privilege of being yelled at.”
I shifted uncomfortably on my stool.
“You were yelled at?” Diego asked.
“Well, yelling through emails,” I said.
“They were in all caps?” he asked.
I laughed.
Alana rolled her eyes. “Okay, Mr. Literal, they weren’t in all caps but …”
“Here,” Frank said, taking out his phone. “I’ll read you one and you can see for yourself.”
“No need to read one,” I said, but Frank was already speaking.
“ ‘Kat and Victoria. Why didn’t Looking for Love call in? You need more phone lines so people can get through. It’s always busy. You can’t run a good show if the interesting people can’t get through.’ ” Frank put a finger in the air. “I actually heard that’s true. That people are getting busy signals. Maybe he did try to call in.”
“He probably didn’t,” Diego said, tasting a spoonful of his sauce. “I mean, maybe the caller didn’t have an update last week. Maybe nothing happened.”
For the first time since Diego called in, I felt guilty for the secret I held. In the beginning, I wasn’t quite sure it was him. Once I was surer, I thought of it as a moral obligation to keep his identity private. But now, as his friend, I felt like he should know that we knew. Why hadn’t I thought to tell him before?
But then again … it wasn’t like he was being forthcoming with us. He knew we worked on the podcast, obviously. He wasn’t offering up the fact that he was the caller in question. If he wanted us to know, he’d tell us. But we did know. Gah. I felt torn.
I looked at Alana to see if she was having the same internal battle as I was, but she was standing up and checking on her chicken.
“You’re probably right,” Frank said, putting his phone facedown on the counter. “Let people complain. It creates buzz.”
Diego opened up a package of corn tortillas. Then he put both hands on the counter and met my eyes. “I’m sorry people are complaining.”
I almost said, it’s not your fault, but stopped myself. In this case, it was, and I couldn’t bring myself to say that lie. “It’s okay,” I said instead. “Don’t worry about it.”
“The podcast gets lots of fan mail, too,” Alana said, closing the oven door. “Nothing to worry about. Kat had a guy ask her out through email today.”
I sucked in an indignant breath.
“You did?” Frank asked. He snatched his phone back up and started scrolling through it.
“Please, let’s not talk about this.” I could feel my face getting hot.
Alana laughed as Frank read the email out loud. Diego had a huge smile on his face, too.
“I’m going to kill all of you,” I said, but was actually glad for the lightened mood.
Diego began assembling his tacos with cabbage, cheese, salsa, and the fish that was now blackened to perfection. Alana pulled her chicken out of the oven and plated it as well. As they worked side by side in the kitchen, they kept bumping elbows and shoulders. It was so obvious they were doing it on purpose, too. I found myself staring too often, a nervous feeling forming in my stomach. I was just nervous for Alana, I told myself. Worried that she was going to be disappointed if he didn’t ask her to the festival. He’d ask her. I needed to stop worrying about it. That thought did nothing to calm me.
After they arranged the food, the plates were set in front of us. Frank and I sampled each of their dishes.
“And the winner is?” Alana asked.
Diego’s tacos were amazing. The best I’d ever had. But he was right, I was biased. I pointed to Alana. And in a surprise move, so did Frank. Alana cheered.
Diego growled. “Do you think your dad will let me borrow his golf clubs, Kate?”
“No need to take out your anger on the kitchen,” Alana joked.
Diego smiled her way. “If I can’t win the cook-off, I have something else to prove.”
We sat on the hill behind the school, the goalposts of the football stadium barely visible in the dark. Alana was next to me, clinging to my arm because she was cold. Frank was on the other side, leaning back on one hand, holding a flashlight with the other. Diego stood, a golf ball on a tee, my dad’s golf club in his hands. He surveyed the distance, then turned our way.
He pointed the end of the golf club at me and winked. “This one’s for you.”
My heart gave a happy flutter. And that’s when I realized it—what all my unexpected reactions around him had been about lately—I had a crush on my best friend’s crush.
No.
This couldn’t happen. It wasn’t happening. I cleared my throat. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” I said, but my voice came out funny. I tried not to look at Alana next to me.
Diego wound up and swung. The thud of the metal connecting with the ball echoed, and I watched as the ball flew into the air, highlighted by the beam of Frank’s flashlight. Then it disappeared into the night.
Alana laughed so hard that she snorted. “It’s too dark,” she said between her laughter. “You can’t prove anything.”
“He can if we turn on the stadium lights,” Frank said.
“We’re not turning on the stadium lights,” I responded. “We can just do this after school Monday.”
“The football team will be practicing Monday,” Frank said. “I’m going to go turn on the lights.” He stood.
In that moment, I realized that Frank might know the secret of Diego’s caller identity, too. He obviously had talked to him, knew his voice. And he had listened to that voice in the recording studio. Had he put two and two together?
But even if he had, I reminded myself, he’d gotten the same speech from Ms. Lyon about keeping identities secret. He wouldn’t say anything. At least, I hoped he wouldn’t.
I gave Alana panicked eyes, and she gave the slightest shake of her head. Did that mean Frank didn’t know?
“Yes, we have,” Alana said. “They’re pretty brutal.”
“What emails?” Diego asked from where he stood at the stove.
“For the podcast. They’re boring,” I said, trying to downplay them so Frank didn’t feel the need to elaborate. It didn’t work.
“I think they’re super entertaining,” Frank said.
“Of course you would,” Alana retorted.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked her.
“Well, obviously they’re upsetting to Kate! You’re over there devouring them as your Friday night entertainment,” she said huffily, even though she had been reading them one after another to me only an hour ago.
“Why are they upsetting to Kate?” Diego asked.
“I’m wondering the same thing,” Frank said.
I opened my mouth to answer when Alana said, “Because they’re making her stressed about the future of the podcast.”
“Not that stressed,” I said.
“Can someone fill me in here?” Diego asked.
“Oh, when Looking for Love didn’t call in this week, listeners weren’t happy,” Alana said.
Diego occupied himself with chopping tomatoes. “Why is that Kate’s fault?”
“It’s not,” Alana said. “But listeners like to take it out on someone and she’s one of the faces of the podcast, so she gets the privilege of being yelled at.”
I shifted uncomfortably on my stool.
“You were yelled at?” Diego asked.
“Well, yelling through emails,” I said.
“They were in all caps?” he asked.
I laughed.
Alana rolled her eyes. “Okay, Mr. Literal, they weren’t in all caps but …”
“Here,” Frank said, taking out his phone. “I’ll read you one and you can see for yourself.”
“No need to read one,” I said, but Frank was already speaking.
“ ‘Kat and Victoria. Why didn’t Looking for Love call in? You need more phone lines so people can get through. It’s always busy. You can’t run a good show if the interesting people can’t get through.’ ” Frank put a finger in the air. “I actually heard that’s true. That people are getting busy signals. Maybe he did try to call in.”
“He probably didn’t,” Diego said, tasting a spoonful of his sauce. “I mean, maybe the caller didn’t have an update last week. Maybe nothing happened.”
For the first time since Diego called in, I felt guilty for the secret I held. In the beginning, I wasn’t quite sure it was him. Once I was surer, I thought of it as a moral obligation to keep his identity private. But now, as his friend, I felt like he should know that we knew. Why hadn’t I thought to tell him before?
But then again … it wasn’t like he was being forthcoming with us. He knew we worked on the podcast, obviously. He wasn’t offering up the fact that he was the caller in question. If he wanted us to know, he’d tell us. But we did know. Gah. I felt torn.
I looked at Alana to see if she was having the same internal battle as I was, but she was standing up and checking on her chicken.
“You’re probably right,” Frank said, putting his phone facedown on the counter. “Let people complain. It creates buzz.”
Diego opened up a package of corn tortillas. Then he put both hands on the counter and met my eyes. “I’m sorry people are complaining.”
I almost said, it’s not your fault, but stopped myself. In this case, it was, and I couldn’t bring myself to say that lie. “It’s okay,” I said instead. “Don’t worry about it.”
“The podcast gets lots of fan mail, too,” Alana said, closing the oven door. “Nothing to worry about. Kat had a guy ask her out through email today.”
I sucked in an indignant breath.
“You did?” Frank asked. He snatched his phone back up and started scrolling through it.
“Please, let’s not talk about this.” I could feel my face getting hot.
Alana laughed as Frank read the email out loud. Diego had a huge smile on his face, too.
“I’m going to kill all of you,” I said, but was actually glad for the lightened mood.
Diego began assembling his tacos with cabbage, cheese, salsa, and the fish that was now blackened to perfection. Alana pulled her chicken out of the oven and plated it as well. As they worked side by side in the kitchen, they kept bumping elbows and shoulders. It was so obvious they were doing it on purpose, too. I found myself staring too often, a nervous feeling forming in my stomach. I was just nervous for Alana, I told myself. Worried that she was going to be disappointed if he didn’t ask her to the festival. He’d ask her. I needed to stop worrying about it. That thought did nothing to calm me.
After they arranged the food, the plates were set in front of us. Frank and I sampled each of their dishes.
“And the winner is?” Alana asked.
Diego’s tacos were amazing. The best I’d ever had. But he was right, I was biased. I pointed to Alana. And in a surprise move, so did Frank. Alana cheered.
Diego growled. “Do you think your dad will let me borrow his golf clubs, Kate?”
“No need to take out your anger on the kitchen,” Alana joked.
Diego smiled her way. “If I can’t win the cook-off, I have something else to prove.”
We sat on the hill behind the school, the goalposts of the football stadium barely visible in the dark. Alana was next to me, clinging to my arm because she was cold. Frank was on the other side, leaning back on one hand, holding a flashlight with the other. Diego stood, a golf ball on a tee, my dad’s golf club in his hands. He surveyed the distance, then turned our way.
He pointed the end of the golf club at me and winked. “This one’s for you.”
My heart gave a happy flutter. And that’s when I realized it—what all my unexpected reactions around him had been about lately—I had a crush on my best friend’s crush.
No.
This couldn’t happen. It wasn’t happening. I cleared my throat. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” I said, but my voice came out funny. I tried not to look at Alana next to me.
Diego wound up and swung. The thud of the metal connecting with the ball echoed, and I watched as the ball flew into the air, highlighted by the beam of Frank’s flashlight. Then it disappeared into the night.
Alana laughed so hard that she snorted. “It’s too dark,” she said between her laughter. “You can’t prove anything.”
“He can if we turn on the stadium lights,” Frank said.
“We’re not turning on the stadium lights,” I responded. “We can just do this after school Monday.”
“The football team will be practicing Monday,” Frank said. “I’m going to go turn on the lights.” He stood.
