We Can Work It Out Page 3

  “NOTHING!” Morgan and I shrieked in unison. We were so busted.

  Tyson laughed. “Okay, okay, I get it. Girl stuff.”

  I actually didn’t think he got it at all.

  Morgan looked at Tyson’s empty hands. “So I take it that the game didn’t go well?”

  Tyson gestured in defeat toward Ryan. “I should’ve known better than to challenge a jock to a sports game.”

  “I did warn you.” Ryan put his arms around me and I bristled a little at his touch. He pulled back, sensing my discomfort. “We can do a guitar game if you feel like that would even the score.”

  Tyson scrunched up his nose. “Playing guitar in a video game and in real life are two completely different things.”

  Morgan decided to up the ante. “How about the three of us play the guitar game and I’ll school you both? Loser buys the pizza.”

  There was no way Tyson and Ryan were going to take that from Morgan.

  As we headed over to their game, Ryan pulled me in close. “Everything okay? You seem a little distant.”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I lied.

  He stopped walking and faced me. “Listen, Bloom, you forget that I know you well. You’ve got that look on your face that means you’re either confused or worried, maybe a bit of both. So again I’ll ask, is everything okay?”

  I looked at Ryan and couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. I was being silly, worrying over a conversation that didn’t need to happen for months, maybe even longer.

  The best part of dating someone you’ve known practically your entire life is that you know what kind of person he is. Ryan would never force me to do anything I wasn’t ready for. I was stressing for no reason.

  I leaned into him. “Everything’s great.” Then I surprised him by planting a kiss on his lips.

  “Wow!” he exclaimed once I pulled away. “That was awesome and so public.”

  I ignored his (completely justified) teasing and dragged him by the hand to where Morgan and Tyson were waiting.

  “Okay, guys, I’m in.” I reached into my jeans pocket for change. “And fair warning: My parents pretty much require Beatles Rock Band family game night on a weekly basis. Get ready to hand over those tickets and buy me some pizza.”

  Ryan may have been the jock, Tyson the rocker, and Morgan the gamer, but none of them had anything on me during that game.

  I used my winnings to get Ryan a mini basketball with the Chicago Bulls logo. It seemed like a girlfriend thing to do … and I figured it was as good a time as any to start being a better girlfriend.

  DIANE, TRACY, AND I KEPT STARING at my computer screen on Saturday night like it was some sort of mistake. Or a cruel prank.

  “Is this for real?” Diane asked.

  “I think so,” I replied cautiously.

  Diane began to read aloud the message I’d gotten on my profile page: “ ‘Dear Penny Lane, you don’t know me, but I’ve heard a lot about you. The article that ran in your school paper about your club has made the rounds among my friends. You’ve inspired us to start our own chapter of The Lonely Hearts Club at South Lake High School. I was wondering if you could share more information about your club, like your rules. Or since we’re only an hour away, maybe we could bribe you with food to talk to our club? I’m sorry if this is out of the blue, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Hope to hear from you soon and THANKS, Danielle.’ ”

  Tracy finally spoke. “This is AWE to the SOME, guys! I mean, it’s spreading for real. We totally have to share the rules, and maybe we should start a page for the Club and go global!” She leaned in to read the message again. “Yeah, we’re so doing this. Send her my rules. It’s my finest work, and it totes deserves to go viral.”

  I took the sheet of paper from the corkboard over my desk that contained the rules we’d implemented shortly after Thanksgiving:

  Heretofore are thy official rules for members of “The Lonely Hearts Club.” All members must agree to such terms or thy membership shall be struck from thy record.

  1) Members are allowed to date, but must never, ever forget that their friends come first and foremost.

  2) Members are not allowed to date jerks, tools, liars, scum of the earth, or basically anybody who doesn’t treat them well.

  3) Members are required to attend all Club meetings on Saturday nights. No member shall wuss out on attending due to a date with a boy. Exceptions are still for family emergencies and bad hair days only.

  4) Members will attend all couple events together as a group, including, but not limited to, Homecoming, Prom, parties, and other couply events. Members may choose to bring a boy with them, but said male attends event at his own risk.

  5) Members must first and foremost be supportive of their friends, no matter what choices they make. What matters most is for us to stick together.

  6) And most of all, under no circumstances shall anybody take what is said in the Club and use it against someone. You all know what I’m referring to.

  Violators of the rules are subject to membership disqualification, public humiliation, vicious rumors, and possible beheading.

  I took the piece of paper with me as we headed to the basement (or, as my parents insisted on calling it, The Cavern). We rarely had anything on the agenda these days; mainly we ate food, watched movies, and chilled. I was thrilled to have something for us to discuss.

  My parents had gotten so used to the constant ringing and knocking at our door around seven o’clock on Saturdays that they left the door open for the girls to come in and make their way down to the basement. We were usually packed by ten after, and that night was no exception.

  I couldn’t wait to share the news with everyone. While Diane, Tracy, and I had greeted the message with hesitant excitement, the Club was cheering before I could even get the last line out.

  “Road trip!” senior Laura Jaworski called out to a round of applause.

  “Really?” I replied, still feeling like it could be some sort of hoax.

  “Hells, yeah!” Tracy looked at me as if I’d gone mad, then quickly took control. “Okay, let’s get a page up ASAP. Who wants to be in charge of that?”

  Meg Ross, the senior who’d written the article Danielle had mentioned, raised her hand. “I think once that page is up, we should all post links to it. Our group can probably reach out pretty wide in the Midwest, and we’ll see what happens from there. But I think instead of us going to them, we should make people come to us.”

  “Yes!” Diane agreed. “We could hold an event for people interested in the Club. Remember how much fun we had planning that karaoke night? We need to do more stuff like that.”

  It came to me as everybody started chattering about an event. There was a night coming up that single girls everywhere dreaded. It would be the perfect time to host a Lonely Hearts Club event. And it was falling on a Saturday this year.

  I raised my hand sharply and was taken aback by how quickly everybody quieted. I said only two words: “Valentine’s Day.”

  There was so much commotion that I glanced at the door, sure that Dad was going to come down to see what all the excitement was about.

  We had briefly talked about what we were going to do as a group this year for Valentine’s Day — buy each member a rose, go out for a big group dinner, come back and have a Girls Rule dance party — but this topped them all.

  We didn’t even need to take a vote.

  Work started immediately on our official page. Tracy was already drawing possible logos. One group was tasked with coming up with a list of locations for the event since, if it took off the way we all hoped it would, there was no way my basement would work. We were already tightly crammed in as it was.

  Tracy brought over some designs for me to look at. “Do you realize how big this could get?” she asked. “And Valentine’s Day? So perfect.”

  Diane nodded. “Yeah, although I thought we’d have a party or something and invite the guys. Do you think Ryan will mind not seeing yo
u that night?”

  I hadn’t even thought about what he and I would do for Valentine’s Day. “We can do something during the day,” I said. “He’ll be okay.”

  “But doesn’t he have to do the same thing for your birthday?”

  “It’s fine, Diane.” I tried to not get annoyed that she was more concerned about me spending time with Ryan than I was. He knew the Club was bigger than my relationship with him. It was bigger than any one member.

  Tracy’s logo designs were good, but none of them really seemed to fit. “Don’t get mad,” I prefaced, knowing how sensitive she could get when her artwork was critiqued, “but what about taking some inspiration from this.”

  I walked over to the cabinet that held my parents’ records and pulled out Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

  Tracy took it with a shake of her head and went into the corner.

  By the end of the night, we had a page up with a paragraph about the group, the McKinley Monitor article, the Club photo we’d taken at our Christmas party, the rules, and a save-the-date for our hopefully annual Valentine’s Day celebration.

  For the first time in my life, I was actually looking forward to Valentine’s Day. And from the buzz that was circulating in the room, I knew I wasn’t the only one.

  ONE OF THE REASONS I BELIEVE my parents don’t mind having nearly thirty girls in their house every Saturday is because that noise is nothing compared to having all three Bloom girls at home.

  You could hear the bass pulsating from our house before Tracy even pulled over to drop me off from school on Thursday. “Tell Rita I say hi,” she joked.

  As soon as I stepped into our house, I was greeted by the Rolling Stones blasting from upstairs.

  To my parents, this was nothing short of a declaration of war. Playing the Stones in a Beatles household was like serving a bacon double cheeseburger at a vegan potluck.

  “RITA!” Mom boomed from the bottom of the stairs, “YOU TURN OFF THAT RACKET RIGHT THIS INSTANT!”

  “Relax, Mom,” Lucy’s voice came from the living room.

  “Lucy!” I rushed into the living room to find my oldest sister looking over the seating chart for the wedding.

  Lucy jumped up from the couch when she saw me. “My goodness, Penny Lane, you keep getting taller. Stop making me feel old!” she said as she wrapped her arms around me.

  Lucy lived in Boston, and I only got to see her a few times a year. I really missed having her around.

  She sat back down and patted the space next to her. “Come here and help your big sis figure out where to put everybody.”

  I looked over all the circles representing tables and chairs. “Where are you putting me?” I asked.

  Lucy tucked her wavy, chestnut-brown hair behind her ear. “You and Ryan will be with Rita over at the wedding party table. I’m assuming you’re asking because you want to make sure you’re as far away from Nate as possible?”

  “God, yes,” I replied.

  “I’m sorry that he’s coming. Mom and Dad insisted. If you told them …” Lucy and Rita had the same refrain: Tell Mom and Dad, and Nate will permanently go away. But at this point, so much time had passed, I was convinced Mom would be so angry that I’d withheld it from her, it would be more trouble than it was worth.

  Mom walked into the living room and gestured at the sound of Mick Jagger’s voice. “Penny Lane, go up there and get your sister. I will not allow that noise in our house. Plus, your father and I need to speak to you three.”

  I went upstairs and knocked on Rita’s door before opening it. Rita was lying on her bed with her back to the door. “Relax, Mom,” she griped. Then she made a big production of turning down the volume.

  I did my best impression of Mom. “For the love of Paul and Linda, I thought I raised you better!”

  Rita turned around. “Hey! You’re home! What are we doing this weekend besides boring wedding stuff?”

  “I need you to help the Club figure out where to have our Valentine’s party.”

  “Still no luck on the venue?” She frowned.

  I shook my head. “All the places large enough are either too expensive or already booked for Valentine’s Day couply stuff.”

  “It’s discrimination!” Rita said with as much righteous indignation as she could muster.

  “That’s what Tracy said.”

  “That’s why I love that girl.” Rita linked her arm with mine and we headed downstairs to where Mom and Dad were waiting for us. Rita and I sat next to Lucy on the couch, with Rita in the middle. It was an automatic reflex since our parents always had us sit at large family events in chronological order. The three of us shared the same hair color, complexion, button nose, and Beatles-inspired name. It was easy enough to get us confused, especially when we were younger.

  “All three of my girls home,” Dad said with a wistful expression on his face. “I’m a lucky man.”

  Mom could hardly control herself. “We have great news!”

  When Mom got this excited, it usually meant that Paul McCartney was performing in concert nearby.

  “As you know, your father and I go crazy every year thinking of new ideas for our Christmas card.” Her tone turned serious, as if the Bloom Christmas card was a matter of national security.

  “Yes, you only go crazy about the Christmas card,” Rita said dryly, before Lucy nudged her to behave. Nobody wanted Mom to fly off the handle. Her temper was especially short with the wedding approaching. “It’s January — why are we even talking about next year’s card?”

  “Because we need to make sure we include Lucy’s special day in our card.”

  “Please.” Lucy held out her hands. “Don’t let something like my wedding get in the way of a Bloom holiday tradition. And I mean it, please.”

  Our family Christmas cards always had us re-creating Beatles album covers or famous Beatles performances like the first one on The Ed Sullivan Show or their last concert on the roof of the Apple headquarters in London. I’d really screwed things up when I came along since my parents had to work with five people instead of four. When I was a baby, I was used as a drum set, then as a speaker. By the time I got tall enough, I could be a microphone stand or a piano. It was wonderful for my self-esteem.

  With over twenty family cards, it had become more difficult each year for my parents to come up with something. We’ve done every album cover but one.

  “Oh my God,” I said, realizing what they were going to do. “You’ve finally figured out how to do the White Album.”

  “Yes!” Mom clapped her hands excitedly. “Your father came up with it last night. I called the photographer and set it all up.”

  Lucy groaned. “You can’t be serious? It’s my wedding!”

  “Oh, relax,” Mom said, dismissing her. “We’re going to do it at home before we leave for the church. Tell them, Dave!”

  Dad sat up in his chair, his voice laced with excitement. “The photographer is bringing a white backdrop. Lucy will be in her dress; the rest of us will dress in white — only for the photo, Luce — with white gloves. So the only thing that will stand out will be our heads. Then, in the corner it will simply say The Blooms in gray.” He beamed, clearly pleased with himself.

  I had to admit that it sounded pretty awesome, but I also knew that when it came to anything Beatles-related, I was in the minority of my sisters.

  “Absolutely ridiculous,” Rita responded. “But whatever to make the peace.”

  Lucy sank her shoulders in defeat. “Fine. But the life-size Beatles cutouts stay at home during the reception. And the ceremony.” Lucy realized the importance of not giving my parents any wiggle room. “I’m serious.”

  “Okay,” Mom relented. “Give us this picture, and John, Paul, George, and Ringo will stay home.”

  Rita whispered into my ear, “Remind me to elope.”

  While I wasn’t sure whether Lucy regretted not eloping, it didn’t take long to know that she was disappointed in one thing.

  Her da
rk brown eyes swept the basement. “Why on earth did I never think of this?”

  It was Lucy’s first time meeting The Lonely Hearts Club. She came at a very busy time for us, three weeks away from Valentine’s Day.

  Diane stared at the list of crossed-out venues. “I could see if my parents would let me clear out our garage …”

  It wasn’t only that we were worried about how many people would come; we didn’t necessarily want to advertise one of our homes online. We didn’t really know the people who’d actually be showing up.

  “There’s got to be some place we aren’t thinking of.” Kara reached into her backpack and took out a huge book.

  “What’s that?” Tracy gestured at the four-inch-wide yellow book.

  “It’s the yellow pages,” Kara replied. When Tracy returned a blank stare, she continued, “It lists companies by product or service. I figure it couldn’t hurt to skim through it.”

  “Guys!” Meg exclaimed from where she was working on the web page with Hilary and Annette. “We already have 426 likes on our page, and someone in Mexico asked if we could live stream the event!”

  “Are you serious?” I ran over to verify because I couldn’t fully understand what she was saying. “What exactly do people think this is? And how did someone in a foreign country even find out about this?”

  Tracy shrugged her shoulders. “Technology.”

  “Well, there won’t even be an event if we can’t figure out where we can have it,” Diane reminded us.

  I felt hopeless, but I didn’t want to give up. If The Lonely Hearts Club could have such a positive effect on the people in this room, I couldn’t imagine what would happen if it expanded.

  The vibe in the basement had deteriorated to a desperate lull. I walked over to the entertainment cabinet. “I think that might be enough for tonight. Let’s put on a movie.”

  “I don’t mind working on the website more,” Meg offered.

  More people piped up that they wanted to continue. While I probably should’ve felt guilty for being the only person who wanted to call it a night, I was overwhelmed with how much everybody wanted to try until we had exhausted all possibilities.