Page 50 of The Fine Art of Faking It
Eva fended off Eden’s hands. “No! Bad! I can’t believe you stole this from me! What does Section Whatever Paragraph Alphabet say?”
“Section 718, Subparagraph G states that I can dissent my match.”
“Oh. That Section 718,” Eva said, flipping pages. “I’m new to the committee, but I have a feeling this has never happened before.”
“Because you jerks don’t tell people they’re allowed to fight the matches!”
“Well, no one’s ever needed to fight a match before. I mean, come on, Eden. We’ve got a perfect record. That has to count for something.”
“Davis and I donotbelong together. We don’t even like each other.”
Eva looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “Look, whatever you do, just promise me you won’t tell them that I’m the weak link who delivered committee secrets to a reluctant matchee.”
“Fine,” Eden said. “Go up. I’m going to wait until the meeting gets started before storming in and dissenting all over the place.”
“Hey, guys!” Eva’s sister Gia poked her head around the bookshelf. “What’s going on?”
Eden and Eva shared a long look.
“It’s probably better if you don’t know,” Eva decided.
* * *
Eden feltlike an idiot pressing her ear against the conference room door listening for her cue. But it couldn’t be helped. If she wanted her future to be free of well-meaning, ill-informed string pulling, she needed to present her case in exactly the right way.
And then she would be free of Davis Gates forever. No more bumping into him outside her quarters. No more eye contact over eggs at breakfast. No more watching him romp with the dogs in the yard.Eden’s resolve wavered for a moment, before she gathered her wits about her. She just wanted to go back to the way things were before Davis moved in under her roof.
“Are there any public comments?” Eden heard Bruce Oakleigh’s muffled voice through the door. That was her cue. She turned the knob and pushed. And in her haste, she tripped over her own feet, stumbling into the room. She didn’t stop until she caught herself on the snack table, sending a dozen pink iced cupcakes tumbling to the floor.
“Awh.” Gordon Berkowicz, a slim figure in unwashed tie-dye, lamented the sugary loss from across the room. The tables were set up in a U-shape with everyone facing a large whiteboard where Bruce wielded colored markers and a shocked expression.
Gordon’s wife, Rainbow, an intimidating figure in pinstripes, gaped like a guppy at Eden. As bank president in the hippie-est town in the Northeast, it took a lot to surprise Rainbow.
Eva had her face buried behind her hands, but the rest of the committee stared in confusion.
“Eden, you can’t be here,” Bruce gasped. If the man had worn a string of pearls, he would have been clutching them.
Ellery’s dark purple lips were pressed in a thin line, her eyes wide with surprise. “Is the building on fire? Do we need to evacuate?”
A murmur went up around the room and Gordon bolted from his seat. “Oh my God! I think this shirt is flammable!” He ripped off the long-sleeve tie-dye and tossed it on the floor. He nearly trampled Amethyst Oakleigh, Bruce’s beehived wife—who actually was clutching her pearls.
“There’s no fire,” Eden shouted over the commotion.
Rainbow grabbed her husband by the belt and yanked him off of the windowsill.
“I have a public comment,” Eden announced righting herself and accidentally smearing pink icing down the front of her black turtleneck. She fished her index cards out of her back pocket and cleared her throat. “I hereby officially voice my dissent for my match.”
That got a bigger reaction than when they thought the building was on fire. Amethyst swooned into the arms of the unsuspecting Wilson Abramovich. Bruce bent at the waist to suck in shuddering gasps of air.
Gordon picked up a cupcake off of the floor and bit into it wrapper and all.
Bobby, the unflappable proprietress of Peace of Pizza, sat calmly like a goddess waiting to deliver judgment. While Ellery anxiously flipped through her binder, Eva was very busy studying her fingernails and not making eye contact with anyone. Her sister Gia sent her worried looks.
“According to Section 718, Subparagraph G, I have the right to petition the committee to cease and desist in their matching actions.”
Binders slapped open and pages were turned with panicked enthusiasm.
“Holy crap,” Ellery gasped. “That’s a thing. She can do that.”
