Page 8 of What Did I Miss?

Those minuscule feelings Makayla has for Beau are still there the next day.

At lunchtime she hides backstage in the school theatre. Theatre is a stretch. It’s more of a tiny hall, with a makeshift stage and flimsy curtains that need to be opened manually.

‘I know you’re here to avoid a certain someone.’ Cece sees straight through Makayla’s offer to sort costumes while she works on set designs for an upcoming production of Grease . ‘I don’t understand why you won’t go out with him. You said the S-E-X was mind-blowing.’

‘Shhh!’ Makayla sifts through a rack of poodle skirts. ‘Teenagers can spell, you know? I’m simply not interested in you know who . No need to bring him up.’

Makayla hasn’t told anyone about Quinn’s deal. Cece isn’t a blabbermouth per se, but she’s easy to get information out of. And according to Rongo, Beau used to work in the Intelligence Corps. Who knows what tactics he’d use to dig up dirt?

‘Fine then. What about your list?’ Cece raises her eyebrows. ‘Where are you at with that, and how can I help?’

‘Great question. It’s slipped off my radar since you know who started to work you know where . Maybe I’ll park it for a while.’ There’s only one goal she’s determined to achieve at the moment, and that’s to win Gertie.

Cece rips a T-Birds jacket from Makayla’s hands.

‘Makayla Jane Anderson, don’t say that. It’s genius – I wish I’d done something similar before I settled down.

I’d love to have watched Wicked on Broadway or moved to Paris and learned French.

Now, the only foreign language I have time for is toddler tongue.

This is your chance to live out every taken woman’s fantasy.

You owe it to the sisterhood to see it through. ’

Makayla snorts. If the sisterhood is relying on her, they’re in big trouble.

‘What happened to living without regrets? The Makayla I know wouldn’t give up after one minor setback.’

Makayla’s never seen Cece like this. Chest heaving. Unflinching stare. This woman means business.

It’s nice to know she cares. For the past year, Cece’s been in a baby bubble. If it has burst, this would be an ideal time for Makayla to share why her marriage really ended. Or would it? Why dwell on the past when bonding over the list can bring them together like the good old days?

Clearing her throat, Cece positions herself in the centre of a spotlight’s warm glow.

‘I know what you need. An accountability coach to make sure you tick off every item. Yes! Remember when we did that ten thousand steps per day challenge, and you made me screenshot my results and send them to you every night?’

Who could forget? The teachers worked in teams, and theirs was called ‘The Hot Steppers’.

When Cece was under the daily quota (which was always), Makayla would drive to her house and force her out for a moonlit stroll.

Despite such efforts, they still couldn’t outwalk The Whiny Bunch (aka – Sole Sisters).

Agnes has tiny feet and takes double steps.

There were also rumours she attached her pedometer to her cocker spaniels and forced them to do laps. It sounded like something she’d do.

‘How would that work, exactly?’ Makayla asks, amused by Cece’s enthusiasm.

Cece swans around the stage with a Pink Ladies jacket draped across her shoulders, puffing on a thin paintbrush, embodying the sassy end-of-movie version of Sandra Dee.

‘We’ll select one activity at a time and catch up regularly to check your progress. First things first, every goal needs a deadline. How about you complete the entire list by the end of the year?’

Cece knows her well. Once Makayla sets a target, she gets tunnel vision. Like the time Warren said she couldn’t eat a whole large pizza by herself. She ate two, just to prove him wrong.

Even though there’s no incentive, other than not wanting to let her friend down, it’s enough to stir something inside her.

‘That’s too far away.’ Suddenly, Makayla’s itching to begin. ‘Let’s aim for my birthday instead.’ This is perfect. She has to stay single until then, anyway. What a great way to keep on track.

‘Wonderful.’ Cece claps her hands excitedly. ‘Let’s get started. Pass me your phone and we’ll set up a dating app. That’s on your list, right?’

Makayla reluctantly hands it over.

‘I can’t believe you’ve never used one. I suppose they wouldn’t have been popular back when you and Warren got together. Gosh, Makayla, you’re going to love this. They’re so much fun, and it’ll make it a lot easier to find your dream guy from your couch instead of trawling bars.’

Cece makes her sound like a lioness hunting prey. How is using an app any different from picking men off a digital menu?

‘There are a lot of different apps nowadays,’ she continues. ‘I’ll ease you into it or you’ll never get any work done. They’re quite addictive.’

Makayla doesn’t mention that as soon as she completes this task, she’ll be deleting the app. One date with one man doesn’t break Quinn’s rule. Multiple dates, however …

‘Why don’t you begin with Connection? That’s the one I used.’ Cece smiles wistfully at the yellow sapphire ring sparkling on her left hand.

‘Any progress on your wedding plans?’ Makayla asks, like a reflex.

Cece tugs at her sunflower-patterned Gorman dress, strangely quiet on the matter.

Ever since she popped out a baby, all talk of a hot-pink bridal gown and a flashmob dance at the reception has come to a screeching halt.

Shrugging off the question, Cece scrolls through Makayla’s camera roll, looking for a decent profile pic.

‘Where are all your selfies?’ She blinks rapidly, the same way students do when they learn Makayla doesn’t have a Snapchat account.

‘Not my thing,’ Makayla says, like she’s above it all.

Truth be told, she’s never liked her photo being taken.

Her limbs are long and seem to stretch even further when a camera is present.

People always comment on how lucky she is to be supermodel tall.

They should try being the giraffe in the group shot, having to contort themselves into a hunchback pose just to get in the frame.

‘It’s a good thing I took a pic of you dolled up at that fancy bar.’

Cece shows her not one but twenty photos that are exactly the same.

A soft haze outlines her silhouette and brings her face into focus.

The way she’s making goo-goo eyes at someone out of the frame makes her want to hurl.

Especially knowing who that certain someone was, and how it all came back to bite her in the arse.

As cringy as it is to have these images floating about online, it sure beats sitting through a photo shoot, which she knows Cece would happily coordinate.

‘Next step: write a bio. What do you want it to say? Keep in mind, this is your first impression, so you’ve really got to sell yourself.’

Makayla groans, hating the idea of promoting herself like a limited-edition sneaker. Doesn’t everyone just lie on these things, claiming to love the outdoors and travel often? After slumping against the wall, she slides down it and draws her knees into her chest.

‘Homework sucks.’

Cece joins her, patting her leg reassuringly. ‘How about we answer some questions and come back to that? Okay, this one’s easy. If you were an animal, what would you be and why?’

Makayla almost chokes. ‘What kind of whack-job relationship expert came up with that? There must be better ways to match people.’ With careful consideration, she says, ‘Fine then. A black widow. They’re highly intelligent, you know, and they eat their mates after procreating.’

‘Makayla!’

‘C’mon, that’s funny.’ Why doesn’t anyone get her dark sense of humour?

‘Cannibalism isn’t a joke.’ Cece exhales like this isn’t what she signed up for. ‘How about we go with something cute, like a koala?’

‘Don’t they have chlamydia?’

‘Do they?’ A quick Google search crushes Cece’s innocence. ‘Most people won’t know that. Besides, they’re snuggly. You can’t help but awww when you see them. I’m leaving it. Happy with that?’

There’s no point protesting. Makayla’s too lazy to change it.

‘Moving on. Fave movie?’

‘Just one? Hmm, that’s hard. Beetlejuice . Pet Sematary . Child’s Play . Poltergeist . A Nightmare on Elm Street … put down any of those. I’m not fussed.’

‘ How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days .’ Cece’s fingers are hard at work typing the name of her favourite film, and then filling in the rest without input. ‘It’s all set up. With this app, you swipe up if you’re not interested and press the connect button if you are. Got it?’

Ignoring the profile propaganda, Makayla scrolls up-up-up to eliminate the duds. Ten more minutes of this and she’ll have RSI.

‘Whoa. Slow down there and give the guys a chance. There’s an actual person on the other side of that screen. They might not have a chiselled jawline or rock-hard abs, but they could have a heart of gold.’

‘It’s not their looks that are a turn-off, it’s their sleazy grins and dodgy zoomed-in photos. They’ve obviously cropped out an ex. And what’s with all the fishing shots? Do men honestly think dangling a dead fish will impress us?’

Screwing up her face, she powers on until a familiar set of blue eyes stops her. She drops the phone and dives into a pile of Rydell High cheerleader outfits.

‘What’s wrong?’ Cece shrieks.

Beneath a pleated red skirt, Makayla hisses, ‘It’s him.’

If Beau comes across her profile, he’ll think she lied about not being interested in dating. It’s not like she’s on there to find her soulmate. She just wants to see what all the fuss is about and enjoy the cheap thrill of ticking Meet someone on a dating app off her list.

‘It’s not live-streamed, silly. Just swipe up and you won’t get matched. Promise.’

Makayla retreats from hiding to collect her phone and stares at Beau’s friendly face. He’s definitely a koala – minus the chlamydia (she hopes). Why does this guy keep showing up in her life?