When Zoey Fell Too Far Read online

  When Zoey Fell Too Far

  Amy Sparling

  Copyright © 2016 Amy Sparling

  All rights reserved.

  First Edition October 2016

  Cover image from Shutterstock

  Typography from FontSquirrel.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems -except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews-without permission in writing from the author at [email protected].

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  “I wonder what the name of this place even means,” I say as I gaze up at the golden letters above Sur La Table, the store my cousin Dana is currently dragging me to against my will.

  “Something, something table,” she says with a little shrug as she steps around a toddler who is eating an ice cream cone and leaving a trail of sticky melted drops behind her.

  I stop short so the kid doesn’t crash into me and her mom calls for her to get out of my way. I nod politely to the woman, even though I’d rather say, Lady, watch your damn kid.

  “Well la means the, right?” I say, jogging to catch up with her. “So maybe it means set the table.”

  “Or serve the table,” Dana suggests, her eyes on the prize.

  The prize, of course, is this stupid kitchen store. It’s like a Toys-R-Us but for people who love to cook, group of people of which I am most definitely not. I’m more of a PB&J person, or maybe if I’m feeling particularly domestic, I’ll heat up a frozen pizza in the oven.

  When it comes to cooking, just about everyone I know enjoys it to some degree. My mom is a pretty good cook. But Dana? She’s excellent. Her dad, my Uncle James, owns and is the head chef of this upscale restaurant called Steakout. Dana was raised in the kitchen, chopping veggies and kneading dough, all in the name of the magic that is professional cooking.

  Dana is not only my cousin, she’s also my best friend. It is because of this special cousin/BFF bond that I’m letting her drag me to the kitchen store in the first place. The entire mall isn’t really my scene, but if I do find myself at Somerton Mall, it’s because I’m going to the bookstore.

  “So what are we here for again?” I say as we enter the utopia of kitchen gadgets. “A melon baller?”

  Dana throws her long black hair over her shoulder. “That was last time. Now we need a garlic press.” She narrows her eyes at me, looking almost exactly like my mother does when I’m being petulant. “Don’t even give me that face, Zoey. You’ll be loving my garlic press once you taste the cheesy bread I’m going to make tonight.”

  I roll my eyes, but the sarcastic gesture falls flat because she’s absolutely right. Dinner cooked by Dana is quite possibly the best thing ever, second only to a dinner at Steakout cooked by Uncle James.

  I busy myself by playing with the display utensils while Dana talks to a saleswoman about the best type of garlic press. There really are a lot of cool gadgets in here, but none of them interest me.

  Cooking will never be in my wheelhouse, and the sooner I accept that the sooner I can figure out what I do want to do with my life.

  Dana has hers all figured out—graduate high school next year, go to the culinary institute, then work at her dad’s place until she can strike out on her own and open a restaurant.

  Me? Well, I have no idea. I’m not exactly proud to admit it, but I’m kind of boring. Plain.

  I’m the gray sheets of construction paper in a pack of rainbow colors. Vanilla ice cream and original flavor. That kind of thing. My only hobbies include making sure my homework is done on time and occasionally running with Dad in the mornings on the days I stay with him.

  My parents are divorced, and have been since I was a baby. They’re still close friends and they’re both great parents so my custody agreement is a little weirder than most people’s. I spend exactly half of my life with each of them. One week with Mom, one week with Dad, rinse and repeat.

  I have two houses, two bedrooms, and two wardrobes.

  You’d think that with living two lives for seventeen years, I’d be able to have two hobbies. Maybe even two different personalities. My Mom Life personality could be one of a dancer, or a fitness guru who spends all her time at the gym, and my Dad Life personality could be an artist, someone with paintings all over her walls. Instead I’m just plain Zoey Caplan, the girl who gets good grades and follows the rules and only has one best friend. It doesn’t bother me. Not really. Although lately sometimes I’ve been thinking about it, about my life and how seemingly boring it is. Sometimes I daydream about something interesting happening to me, like a magic rock falling from the sky and giving me powers or something. In the end though, none of that ever happens and I’m always stuck back in the real world where my life isn’t exactly terrible, but it’s nothing special either.

  I glance over my shoulder and find Dana still deeply absorbed in her conversation with the saleswoman. At least now she’s set down two of the garlic presses and she’s holding onto one, talking about it like it might be the one, the press that will make all of her garlic mashing dreams come true.

  I slip into an aisle of cookbooks just to look at the pretty pictures of food on the covers. One of them, a bright orange book with a dish of some kind of soup on the cover, has a big blue headline that promises it can help even the worst cooks become talented in no time. I snort. Yeah, right.

  I set the book back on the shelf and wander into a section of pots and pans. They catch my attention because they’re all shiny and new, without grease stains or scratches on the surface. God, I hope Dana hurries up because the boredom of this place may just kill me.

  I can see the headlines now: Zoey Caplan, dead at seventeen. Doctors confirm boredom related death due to being forced to spend hours in a kitchen store.

  “Excuse me.”

  I turn toward the sound of the voice, which comes from the only other person in this part of the store. He must be talking to me.

  “Yes?” I say, finding myself standing in front of Alex Blackwood, a senior at my high school.

  He’s tall and cute, but not nearly as cute as most of the guys he hangs out with at school. He’s in the popular crowd, the same group of athletes that have been friends since we were in Kindergarten. I don’t know what sport he plays, just that he plays something.

  Alex blinks. “Sorry, I thought you worked here.”

  I bark out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah freaking right. I’d go insane in a store like this. I mean who even likes cooking?”

  He laughs. “Tell me about it. I’m supposed to
find a sauce pan in stainless steel for my mother and I have no freaking clue what that is. I mean, can’t you cook sauce in anything?”

  Normally I’d agree with him, but since I’ve spent the better part of a decade listening to Dana and her cooking talk, I know the answer he’s looking for. “Sauce pans are small,” I say, looking over the rack of pots and pans in front of us. “I don’t know why they need to be small, but they are.”

  I grab a stainless steel one off the shelf. “This would work.”

  “Look, the tag even says sauce pan,” he says, pointing to the paper tag hanging off the end. His smile brightens. “You’re a lifesaver. Thanks.”

  “No problem, Alex.”

  He stops, turning on his heel, one eyebrow raised as he looks at me. “Do we know each other?”

  I shouldn’t be embarrassed here; of course I’m the kind of girl who’s always been invisible to a guy like Alex Blackwood. I shrug. “I go to Somerton High. I think we’ve had a few classes together,” I say, and then because I feel the need to explain more so I don’t seem like some kind of stalker, I add, “Plus, who can forget the name of the guy who filled the principal’s car up with water balloons?”

  “Twice,” he says, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “I did that prank twice.”

  “Too bad you got caught the second time,” I say. “It was pretty epic.”

  He nods, turning the pot over in his hands. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Zoey. I’m uh, a senior too.” I don’t know why I sound like such an idiot, but talking to guys brings it out in me, I guess.

  He watches me a second, and when he doesn’t say anything I figure I should probably go, like now, to avoid any more awkwardness. “See ya,” I say.

  “Wait.” Alex follows me back through the store, tapping the bottom of the sauce pan on his palm. “You want to see a movie together?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  Is this happening?

  “I’m free tonight,” Alex says with a little why not shrug. “It’s Saturday, after all. The best day of the week to see movies.”

  “Tuesday is half off night, so technically that’s the best night to see movies,” I say, trying like hell to hold back the blush from my cheeks. I’m pretty sure I just got asked out on a date. I mean, right? That’s what’s happening?

  Alex’s tongue flits across his bottom lip. “Yeah, but I don’t want to wait that long. You should go with me tonight.”

  Yes, that’s definitely what’s happening here.

  “Sure.” In the distance, I see Dana checking out at the register, her dark eyes narrowing in on us, taking in the incredibly odd situation of her dorky cousin being asked out by one of the popular guys at school.

  “What’s your number?” Alex says, handing over his phone for me to type it in. “I’ll text you later and we can plan something.”

  I type it in and hand his phone back, my fingers shaking from anticipation and freaking out and all kinds of things I didn’t know I could feel because I’ve never actually been in this situation.

  I mean there was Bryan Monarch in seventh grade, but that doesn’t really count.

  Dana’s eyes widen and she gives me this you go girl grin. I glance up at Alex.

  “Sounds like fun,” I say. I don’t even have to fake the cheer in my voice because I’m kind of freaking out right now.

  When Alex grins, there’s a dimple in his left cheek. “Cool,” he says, sliding his phone back in his pocket. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

  Dana waits for me outside of the store, and the second I walk out to her, she starts bouncing on her toes. “What was Alex Blackwood doing with his phone and you?”

  I bite my lower lip. “He was asking me on a date,” I say, keeping my voice low.

  “Oh my God,” she squeals, grabbing my hand and pulling me with her. “You’ve never been on a date.”

  “I know!”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “I know,” I say, trying to believe it.

  Dana sighs and gives me this sad look. “But there is one bad thing.”

  “What is that?”

  She shrugs and makes this exaggerated kissy face. “You’ll need fresh breath before you make out with Alex freaking Blackwood, so that means no garlic bread for you.”

  Chapter 2

  Dana had driven me to the mall, so she has to swing back by my house to drop me off before she can go begin her epic garlic bread quest. When she pulls into my driveway, she surprises me by cutting the engine.

  “Are you coming in?” I ask.

  “Duh,” she says, swinging open the big door of her Suburban. The massive vehicle was a free car gifted down to her from her aunt on her mom’s side. “My little cousin just got asked on her first date by someone fairly hot, so we still have at least two hours of talking about this to do.”

  “That sounds like obsessing,” I say as I punch in the code on the garage door to get it to open. “And I don’t think my first date will be successful if I obsess over it this early in the game.”

  Dana makes this psh sound and I turn to her while the garage door groans open. “I’m two months younger than you, so that doesn’t give you belittling privileges, you know.”

  She laughs. “Zoey, you will always be my little cousin. Two months are still two months. And in this case, I have way more dating experience than you, so you need my intellect.”

  “You’ve dated one guy,” I say, dropping my purse on the kitchen table. “So that hardly counts as experience.”

  Dana helps herself to a Coke from the fridge. “Yeah, one guy who I’ve managed to keep for two years.” She cracks the top and takes a sip of her soda before sighing. “Why are you acting like this is boring or something? It’s a date. I thought you’d be excited.”

  I glance around the empty two bedroom duplex I share with Mom. Her car wasn’t in the garage so I know she’s not here, but still, I check for parentals before I say anything sensitive. “I am excited. I just . . . I don’t know. You imagine dating for years and years and then it finally happens and it just feels . . .”

  I lift my palms up and let them fall. “Boring?”

  She stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head. “A date with Alex Blackwood is boring?”

  I shrug. “It just didn’t feel like a love connection. I’m kind of wondering if we’ll get to the movies and he’ll just ask to copy my chemistry notes or something. Like, maybe this isn’t supposed to be a real date and that’s why it doesn’t feel like it.”

  For a split second, the sarcasm leaves her face, and it actually looks like she pities me. Then she presses her lips together and heaves a sigh. “I’m sorry your first date doesn’t feel exciting.”

  I pull out a chair from our kitchen table and sit down. The garage door begins opening again, so Mom must be getting home, which is kind of a relief because now I won’t have to talk about this for much longer.

  “Honestly?” I say, staring at the soda in my cousin’s hand and wishing I’d grabbed one too before I sat down, “Every time we’re out together, guys always hit on you. Not me. So when Alex asked me on a date I was kind of thinking, uh why not ask the beautiful girl I came here with instead?”

  Dana sits next to me. “This again? Zoey, I’m not that special.”

  I roll my eyes. Dana is totally beautiful. With long black hair and her flawless dark skin she inherited from her Jamaican mom, Dana could be a supermodel. Well, if she wasn’t so short. She’s curvy and has a gorgeous smile with straight teeth because her parents could afford braces in junior high. Plus, she has the greatest personality ever. Guys are always flocking to her, and it never really bothers me because I’m used to being invisible.

  So today when I wasn’t invisible, it just felt wrong.

  Not that I’m not excited for my date—I totally am. It just feels weird. Like maybe Alex has another motive or something.

  My phone buzzes with a new text, and when I see it’s from a number I don’t have saved in my c
ontacts, I turn a deep shade of red.

  “Is that him?” Dana asks, her voice a pitch higher than usual.

  “Is that who?” Mom asks, closing the door behind her.

  Mom is a professional masseuse, but she wears scrubs to work every day. Today she’s wearing a dark purple set that matches her olive complexion and makes her look ten years younger.

  While my brain fumbles with what to say, Dana beats me to the punch. “Zoey got asked out to the movies tonight by this guy from school.”

  “Oh?” Mom says, her ruby stained lips curling up into a smile. “Is he cute?”

  “Very,” Dana says at the same time I say, “Yes.”

  Mom nods as if she’s impressed, which is kind of an insult if you ask me. “This is your first date, right?” she says, her head disappearing into the freezer as she looks for something to make for dinner.

  “Yep.” I check the text on my screen. “We’re going to the movies. To um, this place called—”

  “Just the regular movies,” Dana interjects, giving me wide eyes that tell me to shut up. “But I think it’s cute that he’s taking her out for dinner and a movie. Very retro, you know?”

  “Sure,” Mom says. She frowns at the choices and then settles on some frozen entrée from Uncle James’ restaurant. “So I’m just cooking for me, right?”

  I nod, still wondering why Dana wouldn’t let me say the actual theater Alex just texted to me. “We’re going to go pick out something to wear,” I say, tugging Dana along with me.

  “Wait up.” Mom says, flashing me her charming smile that usually means I’m in trouble. “You know I’ll need to meet him, right?”

  I hadn’t had butterflies in my stomach when Alex asked me out, but I do now. “Sure thing,” I say, forcing a weak smile. Hopefully that won’t be a total disaster.

  In my room, I close the door and whirl on Dana. “Why’d you lie to her about the theater? Now if I end up missing or something, she won’t know where to look.”

  Dana rolls her eyes in one slow movement. “I’ll know where you are, so if a tornado takes out the place while you’re gone, I’ll inform the authorities, okay?”