Finally got out of the car and went into the store. On the way in, checked out strip-mall sign that Beth had supposedly damaged. Looked fine to me. Went inside. Gerry wasn't there. Place was very crowded. Out of control. Beth working. Very fl.u.s.tered. 1 woman was complaining about her sundae having the wrong syrup, a boy was demanding a cleaner spoon, etc. Meanwhile there were about 10 people waiting for smoothies and cones. Beth caught my eye and her face sort of brightened. Her hair was all askew and she had 10 different fruits splashed on her hemp ap.r.o.n. I just felt so bad. We'd been in this situation together so many times.

So the next thing I knew I was dashing behind the counter, grabbing the ap.r.o.n covered with the Holstein cow pattern. "Don't you hate these balmy December days where everyone feels they just have to get out and enjoy frozen food products?" I muttered to Beth as I quickly washed my hands.

We got to work really quickly and didn't speak much for the next half hour. When I looked up and there was no line, I knew we'd have to talk. Busied myself making my own smoothie while I stalled. My old favorite, a CFS. That's CF for Coconut Fantasy, not Cornwall Falls. Not to be confused. Ever.

Beth came over to stand beside me. "Thanks for coming to my rescue. How did you know Gerry ran out for supplies right before the after-lunch rush?"

"I didn't." Because if I had, I wouldn't have come in here, I thought. But I had to be more "mat-oor" about all this. "Um, I just thought we should talk," I said.

"So, when did you get home?" she asked.

"Sat.u.r.day," I said. "Well, Friday, but late." We made small talk for a while, about Jane, about Christmas plans, about exams. Then there was this gulf that opened up. I wanted her to bring up the Grant thing. I wanted a customer to come in and order 10,000 smoothies, so neither one of us would have to bring it up. But it was good to see her, even if my stomach was bubbling like overcooked hot fudge. You know when you take it off the burner but it keeps cooking. Like that.

"You never answered any of my emails," she finally said. "And that's okay. But I just-well, it's been killing me."

"Me, too," I said.

"I don't know, Court," she said. "I don't think you should forgive me. But if you could . . . that would be so great."

Just then Gerry barreled through the door carrying packages of napkins and a tower of boxes of plastic silverware. He was panting and out of breath. He stared at me, did a double take, and then dropped one of the boxes. It opened as it fell, and 100 plastic forks spilled onto the tile floor.

"Now, what am I going to do with a hundred forks?" he muttered. "I can't believe I grabbed forks by mistake. Courtney? I don't know why you have an ap.r.o.n on, but a little help? Please?"

I went over and started collecting them into a heap. "You're going to have to wash these now, you realize."

"Not to mention come up with menu items requiring forks." He laughed. "How are you? When did you get into town?"

"A few days ago," I said. "I came by to bring you something, and, well. You know. The after-lunch rush was happening."

He stood up and brushed some chocolate sprinkles off his knees. "Well, I guess I didn't need to rush back. You guys have everything covered, as usual."

I helped him carry the stuff into the storeroom while Beth waited on customers. After we put the spoons and napkins on shelves, he stood there and stared at me for a few seconds, doing his typical Gerry "let me a.n.a.lyze you because I used to do this for a living" gaze.

"Your hair . . . you're different," he said. I had sort of forgotten about my haircut. Least of my problems lately. Also, I keep forgetting that I have these 2 separate lives now-home and school.

"Everything's going all right at school?" he asked.

"Um, sure," I said. "I mean, as well as can be expected."

That scared him. "You're not flunking out, are you?"

"No, of course not," I said.

"And you and Grant, you're doing well?" he asked.

"As well as can be expected," I said again. Trying to give him an answer without really answering. Only way to deal with prying questions.

"So. Everything going all right with, you know?" He tried to make a sly little head gesture toward Beth, who was still up front.

"Sure," I said. "I mean . . . as well as can be expected."

"Is that what you're going to say to all my questions from now on?" he asked, giving me the old G.C. look.

"Pretty much," I said.

Left with the promise to call Beth tomorrow and possibly meet her and Jane, who gets in tonight after trip to see new bf's band perform in Chicago.

I hope Beth and I can put this behind us and move on and be friends again. I have really missed her. Am crossing my fingers as I write this. With my other hand, dummy.

12/21.

Spent a hilarious afternoon at Jane's house. Jane and I were telling Wisconsin stories to Beth, exaggerating maybe a little, but mostly true. Talked about stupid things we'd done at parties and said in cla.s.s. Reminisced about senior year. I described seeing the Tom at the mall. Started telling Tom stories. We started giggling and couldn't stop. Perhaps it was because we were splitting beers stolen from the giant Nakamura beer fridge in the bas.e.m.e.nt, while Jane played a tape of her new bf's music. I kept suggesting new names for his band but she wasn't impressed. I think maybe Brat Virgin stands a chance, though.

At one point I looked at Beth and realized I have to forgive her. Or I have already forgiven her. Like today. We have this connection. We have a history. It has nothing to do with Grant. Started thinking of how Mary Jo chose me over Joe, and how that talk show guest chose ho's over bro's.

And anyway, Beth spent like half an hour describing new guy she's seeing. So that helped.

I got home really late and Bryan said Grant had stopped by and called a couple of times and was looking kind of worried. We were supposed to go to dinner tonight. We were?

12/23.

Alison got home yesterday. Very excited to see her. Spent all day and night talking. She has many valuable insights into . . . everything.

Why am I the only child in the family without insights? Is it because I'm the middle child? I'm too busy trying to convince everyone to get along to have insights. Despite insightful natures, however, Alison has only been home 24 hours and she and Bryan have already had 3 fights re: fabric softener sheets, folding stuff left in the dryer, and the lint screen.

Got a big package in the mail this afternoon. I thought it was from Mary Jo because of the return address, and I was completely shocked because we sort of exchanged little gifts before we left. But it wasn't from her. It was from Ed.

Grant happened to come over to get me just as I was opening the box and pulling out little red and green boxes with gold ribbons. (Really need to send those gifts back without opening them, but I wonder what they are.) Grant looked very shocked. Stunned, actually.

"Who's Ed?" he asked in this really unhappy voice.

"Oh, just this guy," I said. "Mary Jo's brother."

"What? I don't believe you," Grant said.

"Look." I showed him the postmark and for a split second thought fondly of Mary Jo's bio mother, stamping the package. Pictured all the Johannsens, pictured the house, remembered the cows.

Grant misinterpreted my thoughtful moment as wistful pining. "Is that why you went to her house for Thanksgiving?" he asked. "So you could spend time with her brother Ed?"

"What?" I laughed. "No!" I started to describe how Ed and I got to know each other during Parents Weekend- "You never mentioned that," Grant said. "You never said anything about Ed."

Then I realized how dangerously close we were getting to the WW III discussion, so I told him Ed was not important to me, it was a harmless crush, and that we'd better get going if we wanted to see the Wildlights at the Zoo.

Last year we kissed for the first time, okay actually sort of made out, at Wildlights. This year we stomped around in the cold with Grant not in a good mood, and I finally dragged it out of him that he found out he did not get all A's and actually got one B. Not even in his major, so who cares? But Grant cares. Obsessing about it. Tried to distract him with kisses. Was like kissing one of the metal giraffe statues.

12/24.

'Twas the night before Christmas And all through the house Courtney was in big trouble No more parties. Really. I mean it this time.

The big party was tonight. The Lebeau Mansion.

Last year I panicked and kissed the Tom. This year was even worse. Started out sort of fun, and also funny, because ex Dave showed up, home for Christmas. Gave him a huge hug and he looked confused. Didn't want to tell him he was right about LDRs being impossible, but he was. Not going to tell him that due to the rude way he dropped the bomb on me seconds before leaving town last year, that it was all over between us. Would never do that to anyone.

Anyway, here's what happened after that. Had some punch with Jane and Beth. Bryan and Alison were mingling. Grant and I then sat by the fire on this giant velvet sofa. Should have been very romantic but my mind kept wandering. I kept thinking about the fireplace at Dean S.'s house, our Fun-Times Funders party, and then I started thinking about Wittenauer, and my guilt about kissing him, and our trustee meeting coming up. Kept slugging punch. Grant and I went to refill our cups, and there was the Tom, hanging out with Beth. The Tom said something like, "Here comes the happy couple, back together again!" Beth looked like she wanted to die, and bolted for the front door. Didn't faze the Tom. He started teasing me all about how I was the forgiving type, and just his luck, he never got to go out with those kinds of girls. Then I told him that was because he only went out with idiot s.k.a.n.ks.

Ran outside onto the terrace. Grant came outside after me. I threw my cup of punch over the cute brick wall and told him that I wasn't over what happened, was never going to get over it, couldn't stand that he kissed Beth and that I kissed Wittenauer and- "What?" Grant said. "Who's Wittenauer?"

"His name's Walter, okay? And he's also Corny. And he's also a three," I said. "And let's face it. He just doesn't sound as good as he is in person."

"What?" Grant cried again. "Courtney, who is this guy? Are you serious about him?"

"No! We're friends, that's all," I said. "And it didn't mean anything, we just got carried away by a Badicals project and we were at this party and he walked me home and it just happened."

"You've been home for a week, and you're just telling me now?" Grant went into furious mode. "Court, I called you the next day after Beth and I . . . you know. And that's only because I was waiting until it was a decent hour-"

"Like there's a decent hour to tell me that you and my best friend-"

"It was nothing! Nothing nothing nothing!" Grant insisted.

We got into this compet.i.tion of whose slip-up/kiss error was worse, mine or his. Practically screaming. Completely ridiculous.

Went inside and got Bryan and insisted he take me home right away. The Tom overheard and volunteered to drive me.

"I have enough problems, okay? I don't need you mauling me in the car," I said.

"Like I would," the Tom said.

Not this again.

12/25.

Still haven't heard from Grant since last night. I haven't called him, either. Christmas Stalemate.

Mom is losing her mind. Wonder if she has that seasonal disorder, because it seems like every winter she goes a bit berserk. Spending way too much money on Christmas. Last year she got us all cell phones, but then decided they were no better than traditional phones and returned them. This year she got us all new iBooks because the Internet is her life and thinks it should be ours, too.

"Hey, no complaints, I'll give my other computer to Mary Jo. But Mom. I'm sort of worried," I said. It's like she thinks this is her revenge against the phone company, to live through DSL. Not a life, I pointed out. Alison and I gave long lecture about perils of Instant Messaging with pedophiles. Or in her case, middle-age-o-philes.

There are always people on talk shows, where it's a 25-year-old dude dating a 50-year-old mom he met through Internet. Lives rent-free, giant scam. Sorry Mom, but we're the only ones allowed to live rent-free here.

We gave her a really hard time. We went on and on with endless examples of how she shouldn't trust anybody. Ever. Needless to say, I led the crusade.

Then she told us the guy she's going out with on New Year's is the guy in town, from the awards ceremony. And could we please just shut up? She learned her lesson already about chat rooms, and was only trying to give us these computers so we'd have the best advantage in school, in the world . . . Oops.

Alison gave me a cool sweater, Bryan gave me CDs, Dad sent cash. Typical Christmas, really. I'm sort of glad Dad & Sophia & Angelina & Bellarina didn't come, because last year it was so crowded. Grandma and Grandpa should get here tonight. I'm sure Grandpa will have a million questions about Cornball and I'll have to put my game face on, tell him I love it.

Well, at least I don't hate it anymore. There is that.

LATER . . .

Grant is back to being Superior.

I was sitting by the window, watching for Grandma and Grandpa, when I saw his car pull up. Nearly had a heart attack. Resisted urge to run upstairs and hide under comforter. Tried to be an adult and went to open the door. Grant came in. He started babbling apologies, and I started trying to counter each apology with one of my own. Then we just looked at each other and I started crying and we started hugging. Grant put his arms around my waist and started kissing my neck. And somehow everything was okay again. Like we're even now or something.

Ditched waiting for my grandparents to show up and went over to Grant's house. Very warm reception, parents and Grandmother Superior thrilled to see me. Then they disappeared upstairs so Grant and I could be alone. Christmas carols were playing softly on the stereo. We were holding hands, leaning against each other on sofa. Then suddenly Grant got up and kneeled down, on bended knee or however you say that.

I started panicking. He was going to propose! Mary Jo said we should get engaged if we were serious. But we'd only truly made up a couple of hours ago. What was I going to do, say, how should I react?

Then he scooted across the carpet. Turned out he was just getting down on the floor to pull my presents out from under the tree.

Gave me a new watch, very cool, with a note about counting minutes until we're together this summer. Gave me a coupon book with all these coupons he'd designed for my favorite things, like: One Chauffeured Drive to Buffalo Overlook, One Hot Dog with the Works at Mustard's Last Stand, etc.

Love Grant. Love love love him.

Am not going back to CFC for spring semester. Staying here, transferring to CU. Must stay with Grant. I could work full time. Make tons of money; ski every weekend; see Grant all the time. Beautiful plan.

12/26.

"So you didn't make the Dean's List," Grandpa said when I got up this morning and stumbled downstairs for coffee. "Is that what you're telling me?"

"Um, well, I'm not sure yet, because I haven't gotten my grades." I did make Dean S.'s list of "People He'd Like to See Transfer from CFC." Did that count?

Then he cleared his throat and said he heard about my little protest idea to change the CFC "image." We got into a big debate, discussion, whatever. He said our idea was "needless nitpicking."

"But it's so simple," I said. "They could add graduate programs and become Cornwall Falls University. CFU. That would work," I said.

"Don't you get it?" Grandma said. "Initials aren't everything in this world, Courtney!"

This from the woman whose family gave me the middle initials V.D.!!!

Total cold war inside house now. He and Grandma are furious with me. Mom, however, is proud of me for being so involved. I guess she didn't know that I was actually having an impact. Never gives me credit for having an impact on anything.

12/29.

Told Alison and Bryan I am thinking about not going back to Wisconsin next week. They told me I'm crazy. Alison said that would be like taking a giant step backward, because my credits might not transfer and I'd be a freshman next fall, and wasn't once enough? She had a billion arguments about how this would ruin my future academic life, my career, the possibility of me ever becoming Anybody.

Bryan took different tack. He said not to make any decisions based on love. (Has obviously been watching too many relationship experts on Oprah, which Mom tapes and watches during dinner, exposing her only son to dangerous airborne chemical: talk shows.) (I watch enough to know how they suck you in and ruin your own personal ozone layer.) He said I'd always feel I made a big sacrifice for Grant, and how I'd never be happy.

Hey, I can be happy, with or without Grant.

Wait a second. What am I saying?

12/30.

Was being stupid and paranoid today and called Grant to ask him if our anniversary ski date is still on. Of course it is, and then he got mad at me for doubting the date, doubting him, me, etc.

"Okay, so I was thinking about moving back here for you, and you're going to get mad at me now?" I asked.

"What?" he said. "You were going to . . . ?"