Текст книги "On the Fence"

Автор книги: Kasie West

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter 16

We sat in the corner booth of a café, drinking iced drinks and talking. Well, Amber the Olympic talker was doing most of the talking, but I was surprisingly entertained. And not just because a Cubs game was playing on the television mounted in the corner. We talked about the last books we’d read and the subjects at school we struggled in (math for me). I was actually able to contribute to those conversations. So maybe they weren’t much different from my teammates and me. Then we moved on to boys.

“I swear all they think about is food and sex,” Savannah said.

I laughed. “No. That’s not true. I have three brothers. They actually do have other thoughts.”

“Like what?”

“Like everything. My brother Nathan took ten minutes to call a girl the other day.”

“Why?”

“Because he was overanalyzing it and was insecure. And my brother Gage uses humor to cover how he really feels. And Jerom, he worries about everything.”

Amber smiled. “Awesome. Charlie gets to be the Guy Interpreter now.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I’m ready for a title or anything.”

“And speaking of guys that need interpreting, I can no longer ignore that table,” Amber said.

“I know,” Savannah said, “they are totally staring.”

“I thought we were just pretending they didn’t exist,” Antonia added.

“Who? What?” I asked.

They laughed. “Those guys,” Amber said.

“Okay, they realized we noticed them,” Savannah said. “I give them two minutes before they walk over here.”

“Two minutes is kind of generous,” Antonia said.

I still hadn’t looked. What if they were friends with my brothers?

“See, I told you,” Antonia said.

This time I looked and saw a guy walking our way. He grabbed a chair by the back on his way and slid it across the tile floor until it rested right in front of our table. Then he sat down. I didn’t know him. This made me happy.

“Can I help you?” Amber said, cool and professional.

“We wondered if you ladies wanted to join us.”

“Sorry, girl time,” Amber said. “Which obviously means girls only.”

I wondered if Amber and the others had guys hit on them like this all the time. It was a first for me to be on the receiving end of this exchange, and I found it amusing. I held back a laugh and waited to hear what line he’d deliver. I could probably give him some pointers. My brothers were experts. Right now he was playing the Gage of our group. Gage could never hold himself back. He had to jump in with both feet, even though Jerom and Braden would tell him to play it cool for a while.

I wondered who this guy was interested in. Probably Amber. She was the prettiest, with the typical Barbie-doll look—blond hair, blue eyes, perfect teeth, tan. Or maybe Antonia; she had the most beautiful shade of mocha skin.

He folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, I see how it is. You should’ve hung up a sign that said ‘No boys allowed.’”

I gave a little laugh. He shouldn’t have pulled out the injured-ego play so early. It was not endearing. What he should’ve done was said something like, I can hold my own in a girls’ club, try me. Maybe my title should’ve been Moderator instead of Interpreter. I decided to help him out because it was obvious he needed it. And he was pretty cute, just a little clueless.

“I bet he’d fit right in with the girls’ club,” I said, and everyone looked at me.

“For sure,” he said, a smile lighting up his face.

“Let’s test him. Four questions every girl would know. We each get one. If you answer right, you get half an hour.”

Amber smiled, seeming to like this game.

“I’ll start,” I said. “Name four makeup items.”

The girls scoffed. “Too easy.”

“For a girl,” he said. I agreed. I didn’t think my brothers could name two.

He looked up, biting his lip. “Okay, um, that black stuff you put on your eyelashes.”

“Official names,” I said.

“Wait, I’m thinking.” He slapped the table. “Mascara?”

“Good.”

“Then there’s”—he pointed to his lips—“lipstick.”

“That’s two.”

“Cheek color.”

Amber laughed. “Is that your final answer?”

“No. It’s . . .” The other guys wandered over. “Cheek stuff, guys,” he said. “What’s it called?”

“No help from your friends,” Antonia said.

“Maybe we should let them put their brains together,” I said. Especially since one of the guys who walked over was hot and I wouldn’t mind him hanging out for a while. They huddled for a minute, whispering, and Amber giggled. “This is fun,” she said. I checked out the score on the TV while the guys were busy.

“Okay, we have an answer,” he announced. “Blush.”

“Very good. That’s three. One more.”

“Did you already do mascara?” Hot Guy asked.

“Yeah, and lipstick.”

“Is there anything else?” the other guy, a redhead, asked.

“So much more,” Amber assured them.

The original guy snapped his fingers. “Oh, oh, what about that brown stuff they use to cover their zits and stuff.”

Antonia gasped and I laughed. “What’s it called?”

“No idea.”

Hot Guy studied me for a minute and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “What’s the stuff on their eyelids?” he asked. I had almost forgotten I had stuff on my eyelids. Stuff all over my face.

“Shadow something . . . eye shadow!” the first guy yelled. “Passed.”

“You still have three more questions, and that was the easy one,” Amber said.

“Bring it.”

The redhead grabbed another chair. There were three of them and four of us. How did that work, I wondered, when we were odd-numbered like that? Hot Guy hovered by my side of the booth, and since I sat on the end, I scooted over and offered him the seat next to me. He took it. He smelled really good, like cherry ChapStick and something clean . . . laundry detergent, maybe.

“My turn,” Amber said. “Name two updo hairstyles.”

“Updo?” the first guy asked.

“Yes, hairstyles where your hair is up instead of down.”

“Ponytail,” Redhead said.

“Okay, I’ll count that. One more.”

“What’s that twisty one called?” the first guy asked.

They all shrugged. I had no idea what it was called either. It was sad that I was following their thought processes more than the girls’, who were laughing smugly.

“What about the librarian ball thingy?”

“A bun. It’s totally a bun. Next question.”

Antonia was quick with her question, as though she’d thought of it the minute she heard the game. “What is the sheer second skin we wear on our legs like pants?”

“Nylons,” Redhead answered without a second thought.

The other two looked at him and groaned.

“What?” he said. “I was in a play.”

“Then you should know all these answers.”

“Whatever.”

“Okay, last question,” the first guy said, looking at Savannah. She pursed her lips together as though trying to think of something they would never guess. Then her eyes lit up. “Who wrote Pride and Prejudice?”

Everyone went instantly silent.

“A little help here,” the guy next to me said under his breath.

“Absolutely no idea,” I said.

“Shouldn’t all the girls in the group be able to answer the question as well?” he said aloud, calling me out.

“I assure you every girl will know the answer to that.”

I tried to give Amber wide eyes, telling her not to make any such assurances.

“Then if all of you can’t, we win by default?” he asked.

“You are such a punk,” I said, and he smiled, his eyes lighting up.

“Yeah, okay,” Amber agreed to his addendum.

I raised my hand in shame. “I don’t know the answer.”

The guys cheered, and Savannah huffed playfully and threw a wadded-up napkin at me.

“Sorry,” I said, holding up my hands to fend off the other napkins that came flying my way.

“So, what do we win?” Hot Guy asked.

“We get to hang out for thirty minutes,” the first guy said. “They weren’t going to give us the time of day.”

Hot Guy met my eyes. “Now we get the time of day?” My heart gave a flip.

“Apparently.”

“What does the time of day entail?”

I shrugged.

“Names, definitely names,” the first guy said. “And phone numbers,” he seemed to add on a whim.

“No way. You earned thirty minutes . . . and names. I’m Amber.”

“I’m Dustin,” the first guy said. Dustin had floppy blond hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose. He looked like a guy I played softball with a few years back.

“Antonia,” she said with a small wave.

“Savannah.”

I gave a head nod that I stopped short. “Charlie.”

Redhead waved. “I’m Luke and . . .”

He pointed to the guy sitting next to me and was about to say his name when Hot Guy looked straight at me and said, “I’m Evan.” Evan had beautiful olive skin and deep brown eyes.

“So where are you ladies coming from?” Dustin asked, and I turned my attention away from Evan and back to him.

“A makeup session,” Amber said at the same time I said, “Work.” I did not want to tell these guys what we’d been doing. I was embarrassed. If I could’ve convinced them we had been playing soccer with that much makeup on, I might’ve.

“We work with makeup,” Antonia said, covering for me.

It took a second to realize that these were guys, not my friends. Guys who were trying to pick us up, not ask us if we were interested in a pickup game. They weren’t looking to make fun of me.

“That’s what I meant,” I said. This brought lots of questions about what exactly we did. My eyes kept drifting to the game on the television as the guys asked the stupidest questions ever. The Cubs were down by one and it was the bottom of the ninth. I groaned when Castillo struck out, leaving only one more chance to score. And everybody knew Borbon was not a clutch hitter. Most people in this area were Giants fans, but we were A’s all the way, which was why I was voting for the Cubs.

“This is their last chance to score,” Evan said, pointing at the screen. “They have two outs.”

I almost said “Duh” but bit my tongue. Jerom’s voice echoed through my head: How hard is it to let a guy feel useful every once in a while? So instead I just nodded, because I couldn’t bring myself to say “Please tell me more.” But for some reason he must’ve thought that’s exactly what I meant, because he started explaining the game to me in layman’s terms, saying things like “The guys in the white shirts really need to put that ball over the fence and then they’ll be a shoo-in for the playoffs.” I almost said “Actually, they aren’t anywhere near making the playoffs this year, but at least it will end their three-game losing streak and let them win back a little dignity and some much-needed confidence.” But again, probably not letting him feel useful.

“There, now the coach is telling the pitcher what to throw.” The camera had focused in on the coach.

I knew for a fact that Posey, the Giants’ catcher, called the games. And even if the manager was calling the pitch, as many did, he’d be giving the signals to the catcher, not the pitcher. It was killing me not to correct him, but my brothers would’ve been so proud that I didn’t. The inside of my mouth tasted a bit salty from my teeth clenching down on my cheeks, though.

“You like to watch baseball?” Evan asked.

“Yeah.”

“My dad has four season tickets to the A’s. Maybe we could double sometime with one of your friends.”

I tried to contain the rush of joy that burst in my chest. “Yeah, I have a friend who would love you forever if you took us,” I said, thinking how Braden would owe me big for this. Then it occurred to me, quite suddenly, that Evan probably meant one of my girl friends sitting at the table, not one of my guy friends.

“Yeah?”

I crossed my arms in front of me, realizing I had gripped the edge of the table in my excitement. “Um. I mean, yes, I can probably find a friend to come.”

He grabbed a napkin from the holder. “I guess maybe I should get your number then so I can arrange that.”

I told him my number and he wrote it down, then tucked it in his jeans pocket. Amber gave me a head tilt that seemed to say I gave that away too easily. But she was too busy talking to know I’d just scored A’s tickets. Sure, I’d have to go with Mr. I Will Impart All My Mediocre Knowledge of Baseball to You, but considering he was hot and nice, that was definitely a sacrifice I was willing to make.

Chapter 17

It was midnight. I didn’t think Evan would call at midnight, but I sat at my desk in my room staring at my phone anyway. I should’ve gotten his number so I didn’t have to give up all the control like this. I rubbed my eyes, now makeup-free, and wondered if Evan still would’ve asked for my number if he could see me now: sweats, tangled hair, tired eyes, and all.

My phone chimed and I gasped.

Are you up? It was Braden.

My arms tingled with goose bumps and I rubbed them. Yes. I switched off my lamp, silently accusing myself of leaving it on for Braden in the first place, then made my way outside.

“Where were you all day today?” Braden asked from the other side of the fence.

“I had to work.” If I wanted to tell anyone about my makeup sessions, it was Braden—but I didn’t want to tell anyone.

“All day?”

“I went out afterward.”

“You did?” The surprise in his voice made me realize he thought I meant on a date.

“No, with some girls,” I said quickly.

“You did?” He sounded even more surprised.

I laughed. “Yes. And it was weird.”

“How so?”

“Well, I thought maybe they wouldn’t like me, but they did.”

“Why wouldn’t they like you?”

“Because I don’t know anything about shopping or hair or whatever.”

He laughed. “And you think that’s all girls like to do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I thought that’s what normal girls liked.” I didn’t have a frame of reference.

“What do you mean by ‘normal girls’?”

“Girls that aren’t into sports. The only girls I’ve ever hung out with are a lot like me. Big and burly,” I added to lighten the mood that suddenly seemed heavier than I wanted it to.

“You are not big or burly, Charlie. You’re tall and strong. There’s a big difference. And maybe you’re the normal one and those other girls are un-normal.”

I laughed at that as I thought of Amber—the pinnacle of every guy’s dream. “Whatever. It doesn’t bother me. It was just how I felt today. Weird.” But not necessarily bad. I actually liked Amber, and maybe that was weird too. “What about you? What did you do today?”

“Watched an NBA classic.”

“Ugh. I hate watching those.”

“I know.”

I smiled. There was something comforting in that moment about Braden knowing me so well. Maybe it was because I’d just hung out with a bunch of people who didn’t know me at all. “Really? You know?”

“Yes. You hate them because you already know who wins. But sometimes it’s fun to watch a game when the winner is already determined.”

“Where’s the excitement in that?” I bit my lip, the smile still lingering there. “Was it Jordan?”

“Of course.” I thought I heard a smile in his voice. Maybe he was happy I knew him so well too.

“He is amazing to watch. That fade-away jumper.” I put my hand over my heart even though he couldn’t see me.

“And those are the kinds of things a normal girl should know,” he said.

I laughed. “In your dreams.”

“Then I should probably get to those.” He stood with a grunt. “Good night, Charlie.”

“Did those count as our facts tonight, then?”

“Of course. But if you need another one, you snore in your sleep.”

I gasped. “What?”

“Gage’s room is right next to yours. I think I’ll get you that snoring machine for your birthday.”

“Snoring machine?”

“You know, that machine that has a mask and you wear it at night and it stops you from snoring.”

I knew he was using his hands to try to describe it and I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

I laughed. I did. “Well, you drool in your sleep.”

“Only when I’m really tired.”

“I think I’m going to get you a drooling machine. It has this mask thing and these straps . . .”

“Funny.”

“I thought so.” I stood, brushed off my flannel pajama bottoms, and walked backward a few steps, my eyes still on the fence.

“Today was boring,” he said. “Don’t work all day again.”

My heart did a flip and I chastised it. He just wanted to play ball or something and had no one around to play with . . . except my brothers and everyone else. “Good night, Braden.” I whirled around and jogged to the house, trying to contain my smile.

I stared intently at the shirts lined up on the rack, their colors blending. Why was I having such a hard time telling Linda I had to quit? Maybe because I sort of liked my job. It was relaxing. The last customer told me I was easy to shop around because I was laid-back and no-pressure, but very helpful. I’d never been told something like that before and it felt good.

“Could you re-dress the window mannequin?” Linda asked.

“Sure.” I turned around and held out my hand, expecting her to have an outfit for me to dress it in. When she didn’t, I was confused. “In what?”

“Why don’t you pick something out? She’s been wearing the same thing for a couple weeks.”

“You don’t want me picking something out.”

“Sure I do.” She pointed to the outfit I wore. I had layered one of the sheer silky shirts she had me buy over a different-patterned tank top I had picked up on my own. I hadn’t been sure if they went together but I thought it looked nice. Was she about to tell me it looked awful? “You’ll do a great job.”

I sighed, then walked the store. I picked a lacy skirt off the far wall and matched it with a summery-looking shirt. As I undressed the window mannequin, I said, “Linda, every summer I go to basketball camp for a week.”

“How fun. I didn’t know you played basketball.”

“Yes. I do. And camp starts in a few weeks.”

“Oh.” She pulled out her purse and dug through it, coming up with a little planner. She flipped the pages. “So what are the dates again?”

“August first through the eighth.”

She wrote something down. “Sounds good. I marked you down for that week off.”

“Oh.” Time off. I liked that idea better. “Thank you.” I continued to unbutton the mannequin’s shirt.

“You may not think you have style, Charlie,” Linda said, appraising the clothes I had hung on the hook next to me, “but that clothing combination isn’t a basic one. You picked up on the lace theme, not the color scheme. That says a lot.”

That compliment shouldn’t have made me so proud. I had probably seen a customer buy this outfit or something.

“Did I tell you that our business is up ten percent since we started stocking the makeup?”

“No, that’s great.” I folded the removed clothes and slid the shirt I had selected over the neck of the headless lady. Then I stared at the white, unbending arm, wondering how I was supposed to get that into the sleeve.

“It is great.” She put her purse back beneath the counter.

“Um . . .” I tried to twist the arm up and it popped off and clanked to the floor.

Linda looked up and laughed when she saw my face. “It pops right back on. You’ll get the hang of it. I’ll be right back.” And with that she disappeared into the back, leaving me with a one-armed mannequin.

I eventually realized the arms had to come off to fit the shirt on, but I had no idea how the skirt would fit over her wide stance. I laid her on her back and kneeled beside her, shimmying the lacy skirt up her legs.

This is how Skye found me when she walked into the store. “Hey, Charlie.”

“Hi. Linda’s in the back.”

We both looked at the half-dressed dummy on the floor then back at each other. Skye laughed.

“Any tips on mannequin dressing?”

“Surprisingly, I’ve never done it before.” She stepped forward and grabbed hold of the legs, trying to shove them together. “Oh. They don’t move.”

“Yeah.”

“Here. I’ll hold her neck and you shove her skirt on.”

“This feels so wrong,” I said as we both took our positions.

“She has no head, so she doesn’t know she’s being violated.”

I laughed and finally got the skirt to her waist. We hoisted her to her feet and both stared at her.

Skye tilted her head. “Are her arms lopsided?” She tried to move the right arm up and it popped off. “I broke her.”

“No, it goes back on.”

She swung the arm and smacked me on the butt with the mannequin’s hand.

“Hey, I have a head and am fully aware when I’ve been violated.”

Skye laughed, and I popped the arm back on and shoved the mannequin into the window before we messed her up even more.

“Thanks for rescuing me.”

“No problem.” Skye headed for the back and Linda, but stopped. “Oh, remember that band I was telling you about? My boyfriend, Henry’s?”

“Yes.”

She pulled a flyer out of her purse and pointed to a picture of a flattened toad on the front. “It’s this Friday. Right up the street. You should come.”

“Yeah. I’ll try. Thanks.”

“No problem.” I watched her walk into the back room. I wondered what she and Linda talked about. How did they have anything in common?

The sound of crinkling paper made me look down. I realized I had the flyer in a death grip. Maybe I should go to this concert. I was a sporting-event type of girl, not a loud-music event one. At least that’s what I had always thought. But here I was standing in this store, in these clothes, hearing the sound of laughter in the back room, and realizing that maybe there was more to me than I realized.