Текст книги "The Stillburrow Crush"

Автор книги: Linda Kage

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

Chapter Eight

I loved the smell of newspapers hot off the press. OK, OK, by the time we got the paper back from the printing press at Paulbrook, it was cooled down. But I still loved the smell of the ink and the texture of paper under my fingers. I loved holding the first copy in my hand, and I loved the anticipation.

There was nothing like opening the cover and taking the first look at something I helped create. It was usually the bright spot of my whole week.

I also liked standing in the front hall on Friday mornings to pass out copies to students walking by. And every Friday right after school, I hand delivered the newest issue to a few old folks in town who were avid readers. My last stop on this delivery route was usually my Aunt Kay's house. My great aunt, Kay Burke, lived in the nice section of town. Actually she lived with her nephew, my mom's brother, Uncle Stan. But when I went there, it was usually to visit Aunt Kay so I called it her house. Aunt Kay was my surrogate grandmother. She'd been the town's spinster librarian up until a few years ago when she'd fallen shelving books one evening and broken her hip. Now she was retired. But back in the day, she'd devoted her life to researching information for Stillburrow.

She had one brother and that had been Mom's dad. And since she'd never married or had kids of her own, she spoiled her brother's children. First Uncle Stan had been born. Aunt 103

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Kay had given him a $1,000 savings bond on his first birthday. And then came Andrea, my mother. But Grandma Burke died giving birth to Mom. So Aunt Kay moved in and helped her brother, Grandpa Burke, raise his two kids. She stayed with Grandpa even after Mom and Uncle Stan moved out, staying with him until he died. After Grandpa's death, she bought a little brown dachshund dog, which she named Chigger, to keep her company.

But a few years ago, about the time Aunt Kay broke her hip, Uncle Stan, who'd been living in Paulbrook with his wife and daughter, got a divorce. He'd decided to buy a house here in Stillburrow and have Aunt Kay and Chigger live with him. And every other weekend his twelve-year-old daughter, Jordan, stayed there as well.

Uncle Stan's house was huge. It was two stories high with six bedrooms, four bathrooms, a basement, and an in-ground pool in the backyard. I was envious. But then, Burke had always been a respectable name in town. Mom had really messed up when she'd hitched herself to Dad. Of course, she'd been in high school and it probably seemed exciting to date a guy seven years older than she was. I once overheard that Grandpa Burke almost disowned Mom when she came up pregnant with Marty. But Aunt Kay stepped in and smoothed down the ruffled feathers.

Still, I don't remember Mom and Grandpa ever talking when I was young. She'd always drop Marty and me off to visit and then leave. A few hours later she'd return to pick us up. We'd wobble back to the car, stuffed with Aunt Kay's snickerdoodles and ready for a nap. But after Grandpa died, 104

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Mom stayed around during our snickerdoodle visits to chat with Aunt Kay. I never thought that was odd until I got older and learned how to listen to gossip.

Anyway, Aunt Kay lived with Uncle Stan and Chigger and sometimes Jordan. Directly across the street from her lived the president of the bank. The Carters also had a two-story house with a front circle drive. Theirs was bigger than Uncle Stan's house though, and had a three-car garage attached to it. I couldn't help but stare at it every time I went to visit Aunt Kay. I almost tripped on Uncle Stan's front porch steps I was so busy examining Luke's house.

It was a Friday afternoon. Jordan had just come to visit the weekend before so she wasn't due to show up for another seven days. I caught my footing and turned away from Luke's house, trying not to wonder if he was home. The Central Record had published his first poem in that day's paper. Here's a clipping from my editor's column:

* * * *

It's time for the good students of Stillburrow to become literary critics. One citizen, who wishes to remain anonymous, is interested in pursuing a career in writing poetry. But our mystery poet would like to know if he or she possesses any actual talent. So let's give Anonymous our honest opinions, good or bad. Just drop off a short review of what you think of his or her work in the journalism room to let us know how you feel. And now here is a sample piece. Drum roll please: Hibernation

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Still deep I burrow, waiting for tomorrow. Closed off, I bear. The open elements don't care. Laid here in this nest, dormant now I rest, Aching to live and roam, though still burrowed in my tomb. When time brings my spring, maybe I'll rise like a king.

–Anonymous

I'd already received plenty of feedback to Luke's masterpiece. And just as I'd thought, they all loved him. It hurt knowing I'd lost my standing in the writing department. No one would picture me anymore when they thought of the town's writer. They would now think of this new mysterious poet.

But I was also proud. The man I had a crush on was living out his dream. He was a local star poet already. And he was destined for better things.

I knew he'd probably be looking me up any time now, eager to know what everyone thought. I was going to have fun stringing him along. I felt it was my duty to make him sweat it out as long as I possibly could before letting him see the replies. I smiled just thinking about my next round with Luke Carter.

I knocked on Aunt Kay's front door and waited. I could hear Chigger barking inside, his long toenails clicking against the hardwood floor as he came running. I couldn't resist one more peek toward the Carter House, though. I stared up at the windows and wondered which one was his room. But then Aunt Kay opened the screen door behind me and I turned back to greet her. Chigger jumped up and his paws landed on my shinbone as I stepped inside.

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"My favorite grand-niece," Aunt Kay said, and immediately gave me a pillowy hug. Chigger sniffed at the brown paper bag in my hand. I lifted it out of his reach and handed it as well as a copy of The Central Record to Aunt Kay.

"Happy Birthday," I said.

"Oh, my goodness. Is it that time of year again?" Like a giddy child, Aunt Kay opened the bag. I tossed the paper on an end table and watched my great aunt inhale the hot air coming out of the opened sack. The aroma that spilled out of it about had Chigger going crazy. He jumped and barked, his long body flailing and twisting in the air with each bound.

"Down, boy." Aunt Kay wiggled her finger at him but she didn't close the bag. Instead, she pulled out a still-warm doughnut and took a huge bite. Her favorite food had always been glazed doughnuts. She closed her eyes and moaned as she chewed. When she opened them again to look at me, I read the thanks on her face.

"Mom will be over after her hair appointment," I said. Aunt Kay rolled her eyes and said with her mouth full, "I swear, your daddy might've paid off his shop by now with all the money Andrea's put into fixing her hair." I laughed because it was the truth and watched my great aunt stuff her mouth with another bite. Chigger had opted to jump on my leg and whine while staring up at me with begging eyes.

"Mom's got another gift for you. The doughnuts are from me and Marty."

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Aunt Kay nodded. This time she finished her bite before saying, "And where is that boy? I don't think I've seen him since summer."

"He's..." I was trying to come up with an excuse for my brother when I realized what I was doing. Why should I make excuses for him? "He's an idiot," I finally answered. "He doesn't go to visit Mom and Dad, either. I guess he thinks he's too good for his family anymore."

"He sounds just like his mother. I heard about him moving out. And he's working at the grocery store, is it?"

"Yep." I nodded. "He looks really stupid in that little apron he's got to wear. But that hasn't stopped Abby Eggrow from giving him the goo-goo eyes."

"Eggrow? You mean the principal's girl?" Again, I nodded. "She's the older one." Here's where I should pause and say I never gossip...until I hit Aunt Kay's company. There's just something confidential about being around her that makes me want to spill every piece of information I know.

"He's been dating her for a few months now," I went on.

"Isn't she still in school?"

"She's a senior this year. Next year, she's going to Paulbrook for a pre-med degree. She's going to work her way up into being a doctor. The principal and his wife won't shut up about how proud of her they are. She'll be the first doctor in the family."

Aunt Kay didn't seem all that impressed. "And how is it she fell into Martin's company?"

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"Well, Abby's been working at the grocery store as well. Her uncle, John Getty, gave her a job there. I guess she's going to rent some apartment off campus next semester and she wanted some money to buy furniture and that sort of stuff for it."

"I suppose her parents will be paying for her education and the apartment, then?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course."

"I see." Aunt Kay looked down her nose at me. She disapproved of parents paying their children's way through college. She said that at age eighteen, the child was an adult and should fend for him-or herself, as she had done. And look at her, master's degree in tow, paid for by her own sweat and toil.

I knew Aunt Kay was getting ready to spill out this precise speech—about a child needing to work for his or her future, or how this was the exact thing that made our social structure so weak: children who were pampered right up into their adulthood. Blah, blah, blah. I was even braced for the speech. But Mom breezed in the front door, bearing her own gift and saving me.

Chigger quit sniffing my pant leg and dashed toward Mom. But her gift didn't smell as appetizing as mine, so the dog returned to me, whining. Mom had a new winter coat in the box she carried. Aunt Kay went to relieve her of the present before pulling her into a hug. When Aunt Kay stepped back, she eyed Mom's hair critically.

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"Georgia missed a spot," she said in a snobbish tone. She dabbed at Mom's perfectly groomed head of hair and said, "I see a patch of gray."

Mom laughed good-naturedly and swatted Aunt Kay's hand away. "It's supposed to make me look distinguished."

"It makes you look old, dear."

I laughed behind my hand and quickly wiped the smirk off my face when Mom glared in my direction. That's when I decided it was time for me to leave. I hugged Aunt Kay again and she thanked me for the present. She said to thank Marty too, since it seemed I was the only member of the family who had any kind of contact with him.

"I'm sure he'll make it for Thanksgiving dinner," I heard Mom saying as I escaped out the front door. Mother would make excuses for him, of course. I didn't know why. She had no reason to lie to Aunt Kay. But she had a habit of trying to make us look perfect to everyone, even to other members of the family. I wanted to tell her she didn't have to do that with Aunt Kay, but it wouldn't have made a difference. My mother would always try to hide any imperfection she possibly could. I was glad to be outside. I hated to sit by and listen to those two women gossip. I didn't mind talking to them separately, but together it was horror. Their continuous flow of chatter could give a person a headache. I skipped down the front steps, my thoughts returning to my own business as I walked back home. A car passed. I didn't recognize it. In a town the size of Stillburrow, everyone knew what everyone else drove and being the daughter of the only mechanic in town, I had unique knowledge of most of 110

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Stillburrow's automobiles. But I was too busy thinking about Marty and his life to wonder about the new car or watch whose drive it pulled into. I was thinking I might mosey down to Getty's General Store and pester my brother for a while and make sure he had the latest edition of my paper. I turned at the end of the front walk and followed the footpath toward the store. I'd just made it to the row of bushes that bordered the neighbor's yard when I heard the call.

"Carrie!"

I stopped, a little disoriented at hearing my name in this section of town. The call had come from across the street. And guess who was stepping out of the new car that had come to a stop in Carter's circle drive? Yep. It was none other than the banker's son himself.

Luke looked both ways and then jogged across the empty gravel street toward me. His eyes were a shiny blue, as if the chrome of his new bumper was reflected in them. And he was grinning, his dimple pitted as deep as it could go. His dark hair was a little windblown, like he might've been driving with the windows down. The sight made me catch my breath. Every time I looked at him, it was like seeing him for the first time. I was always struck with a fresh wave of awe. But I managed to glance around him and peer at the Mustang. "So you finally got a new car, huh?" It was a shocking white, waxed and shining so bright I almost had to wince to stare at it. Two black racing stripes ran up the middle of the hood and roof and back down over the trunk. It looked like he'd just driven it off a new car lot. 111

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There were fancy chrome spokes mounted in the wheels and the windows were tinted. It was a perfect fit for Luke Carter.

"Yeah, Dad gave me a loan at the bank." He seemed a little distracted and took my arm to pull me toward the bushes.

I could still see the car over his shoulder. "How old is it?"

"Two years." Luke glanced up and down the street to make sure no one was around. He had me tucked into a corner of the bushes so that if anyone happened by, we wouldn't be noticed.

"It runs pretty good, then?"

"Uh-huh," he said impatiently. "Did you hear anything about the poem today?"

I glanced up at him. He was as eager for news as I'd expected him to be. It took everything for me not to rub my hands together and grin. "Yes, I did," I said, and my gaze slid back to his ride. "How big's the engine?" He muttered something and frowned. "Heck if I know. It's a car, OK?"

My mouth fell open. "It's a car? Is that all you can say about it? It's your car, Luke. Aren't you excited you just got a new car?"

"Yes." But he didn't sound excited. He sounded frustrated.

"But I already showed it off to my friends. What I wanted to talk to you about was—"

"How fast will it go?"

"Carrie." He clenched his teeth. "Did anyone say anything to you about my poem yet?"

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My eyebrows rose as if I were in shock. "So that's why you came to talk to me?" I sniffed. "I should've known that's all you'd want from me."

Luke sighed. He glanced back to his car, resigned. "I don't know how fast it'll go. I just got it, remember?" He looked back at me like he expected me to spill my guts now. Instead, I grabbed his hand and tugged. "Then let's find out."

"What?" He sounded so stunned, you'd have thought I'd just asked him to elope with me.

"Give me a ride and I'll tell you everything I know." He didn't like the blackmail. I could tell by the way he glanced from me to the car. But it was tempting. He wanted to know what I'd heard too badly.

"I'll even duck down out of sight until we get out of town." He began to gnaw on his lip. "It's just a car, Carrie."

"That is not just a car. It's a Mustang, a brand-spanking new Mach 1 Mustang with a V8 engine and..." Here's where I ran out of knowledge on the car. "And a lot of freaking power. Do you realize this may be the only time I'll ever get the chance to ride in a Mach 1?"

He looked at me sharply.

"Come on, Luke," I said, knowing I was getting closer to a ride. My fingers clamped around his. "It's just one ride." Finally, he nodded. "OK. But you better have something good to tell me."

I grinned. "Oh, I heard plenty today. But what if it was all bad?"

He pulled up short. "No one liked it, did they?" 113

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This time I laughed. "Come on, Carter. My ride's waiting." And I darted around him, taking off across the street.

"That was low," I heard him call after me. But then he started off too, racing after me.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Nine

We were both winded by the time we made it across the road to his Mustang. He came around to the passenger side with me, making my stomach do an odd little flop. He wasn't going to open my door for me, was he? But all he did was pull out his keys and unlock it. Then he stepped back. I brushed by him as I opened the door and climbed in.

"You actually lock your doors? In Stillburrow?" He rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he said, and slammed the door in my face.

I laughed, but not for long. The smell of new car filled my nostrils. The car sat low, and spotless white leather covered everything. Even the console between the driver's and passenger's side was leather. I brushed my hand over the smooth material. Luke opened his door and slid in beside me. When he started the engine, it purred. I sighed and rubbed my fingers along the dashboard. When I glanced over, Luke was eying me with a lifted eyebrow. All I could say was

"Wow," in a reverent whisper.

He shook his head and pulled out of the drive. When we entered the street, I ducked down like I'd promised to do. My face was inches from his hand while he shifted gears. I turned away, still ducking.

"You don't have to do that," he said. But I was busy checking out all the knobs on the side of my seat.

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"I told you I would, so I'm keeping my word." I turned one knob and the seat cranked back. "What's this do?" I asked as I pushed another button. Nothing happened for a few seconds and then I yelped. "Hey, my butt's getting hot." Luke cracked up. He was so busy laughing he almost missed a stop sign and had to slam on the brakes to avoid sliding through an intersection. The sudden stop sent me sprawling forward and I bumped my head on his glove compartment. Thank goodness he was only going about ten miles per hour.

It still hurt, though. I glared up at Luke.

"Sorry," he said, even though amusement still lit his eyes. He glanced toward the button I'd pushed. "That's the seat warmer."

"Seat warmer?" I stared up at him. "You're kidding me." He shook his head and didn't even try to hide his laughter this time. I narrowed my eyes at him and turned the seat warmer off. I turned my attention to the sound system. You could play a CD or plug in an MP3 player. My eyebrows rose in admiration. I found a stash of CDs in the console and began to nose through his collection of music. I pulled out one with a blond-headed guy on the cover.

"What group is this?"

When Luke checked out which CD I was holding, he gave me a strange look. "Can't you read?" When he told me the name, my eyebrows rose. I was familiar with the music because I'd heard it on the radio before.

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"Really?" I said. I flipped the cover over to the back and read the names of the songs. "I always thought he spelled it

'M&M.' You know, like the candy." Luke snorted. "You've lived in a hole your entire life, haven't you?"

"Yes," I said, and took the CD out of the case. "Can we listen to it?"

He shrugged. "I don't care."

I looked at the stereo. "How?"

As soon as I asked the question, I bit my lip, braced for him to make fun of me again. But hey, my parents' cars only had cassette players.

Luke didn't tease, though. He pointed to a slot in the dashboard. "It's empty. Just slide it in there." I did and waited for the music to start. When it did, I found the volume button and turned it up.

"Think it's loud enough?" he said.

"What?" I yelled back.

He grinned and so did I. When we passed the sports complex at the edge of Stillburrow, Luke nudged me. "Will you sit up already?"

I sat up, looked out the windows, staring at the fading town in the side mirror. I could feel the music reverberating through my seat. I played with the electronic buttons on the door. First I locked it and then I rolled my window down. The music rumbled out and a few cows in the pasture we were passing glanced up to watch us fly by as they munched slowly on their hay.

"Faster," I yelled, scaring the herd into running off. 117

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Luke crinkled his eyebrows and glanced briefly at me.

"Close the window. It's freezing out there." But I only winked at him. "Wuss." He mumbled something but I couldn't hear it over the music. The next thing I knew, he was rolling his window down too. I laughed.

"Come on, Carter. Let's see what this baby can do." But he only shook his head. "I'm not getting a ticket on the day I bought it."

I snorted. "Yeah right." At his skeptical look, I said, "Your best friend's the sheriff's son. What deputy would be crazy enough to ticket you? Now step on it, boy." Finally, he took the dare and pressed his foot down. The car shot forward, and I turned the volume of the music even louder. It felt wonderful. I was so free. The breeze whirled inside and whipped my hair around. I set my face to the open wind and hollered my war cry out the window.

"You're crazy," I heard him yell. When I risked a look at him, I saw a full grin on his face. His eyes were on the road, though. I checked how fast we were going.

"You're the one driving 115 miles per hour," I yelled back. Then I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the seat. I couldn't have dreamed up a better ride than this. I was sitting in a brand new sports car, with a drop-dead gorgeous guy, and the thump of bass pulsating through my chest. And I thought, maybe I can't have Luke Carter, but I'll always have this moment.

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I don't know how long I had my eyes closed but I think I drifted off for a few seconds. I came to when Luke slowed and pulled the car into a drive lined with trees on each side. I glanced around, realizing we were by the lake. The Lake was what Stillburrow called the large man-made pond that Old Man Roper had willed to the city. He'd owned the pond and hundreds of acres of farmland around it but had no family left to inherit anything. So Stillburrow took over maintenance on the place and labeled it our city lake. And Luke had just turned into the road that led to the camping ground, which was the major make-out spot for all Stillburrow teens. I sat up. "What're you doing?"

"I don't think anyone will be here at this time of day," Luke said. He must have seen the sudden unease in my eyes.

"Relax. I just didn't know where else to go." I leaned over and turned the radio down. "It looks kind of creepy this time of year." All the trees were bare except for a few dead brown leaves still clinging to branches. It was much prettier in the summer when everything was green and in bloom.

Rubbing the goose bumps on my arms, I rolled up my window and heard Luke chuckle. I told him to shut up, but that only increased the volume of his laugh. We followed the curving road until the opening of the camping ground came into view. I sat forward when I caught sight of blue through the trees.

"Hey, someone is here," I said. I leaned forward, straining to see. Luke slowed down. And then I gasped. "That's Marty's truck." I ducked down just as Luke entered the clearing. 119

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I heard Luke snicker. "Now who doesn't want to be seen with whom?"

I gave him a dirty look and was about to tell him to shut up again when I saw his eyes go wide and his mouth drop open.

"What?" I started to sit up, but suddenly Luke's hand shot out and pushed my head back down.

"Nothing."

"What is it?" I said. This time, my voice was frantic. Something had happened to Marty. I struggled to sit up.

"Dang it, Carrie," Luke said, trying to spin the car in a circle with one hand and hold my head with the other. "Stay down."

"What's wrong with my brother?" I snarled, batting at his hand.

I saw a glimpse of Luke's face then. He flushed and lit into a half grin. "Nothing's wrong with him. He seemed to be doing fine to me."

I stared at his face. Luke had us turned around now and I saw the tree-tops lining our path again. We were heading back out of the camping ground. And that's when I realized what was going on. His hand loosened in my hair and I immediately sat up, glaring at him as I shoved my bangs out of my eyes.

"He was out there with someone, wasn't he?" Luke's silence was admission enough.

"It was Abby," I said, already knowing the truth. 120

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Luke gave a slight nod of the head. We turned away from the camping ground and I looked back, though I couldn't see anything now.

"What'd you see?" I needed to know.

"A lot more than I wanted to," he said with a snort. I stared at his face. He shifted in his seat as if he were uncomfortable. I turned back around to face the front and folded my arms over my chest. "That idiot."

"Marty?" Luke glanced at me. "Why do you say that?"

"He's going to get hurt," I whispered. The car slowed and pulled down a different country road. Luke parked to the side by a row of trees and killed the engine. The music that had filled the interior died, and silence spilled in around us. When he turned to me, he said softly,

"You really care about him, don't you?" I couldn't look at him. I stared at the road that stretched ahead of us. It seemed to go on forever. "He's my brother," I finally said.

I felt warm fingers touch the back of my hand. "Don't worry about him so much. Abby's a nice girl." I spun toward him then. I could feel the heat rise in my face. "Oh, I'm sure she is. She's perfectly nice for someone like you."

His mouth fell open in surprise. "What's that supposed to mean?"

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being together. I guarantee you that would be the end of Abby's little fling if her parents did know. And yes, I know it's a fling," I said, when I saw Luke's mouth open as if to argue.

"I heard Abby's sister, Sidney, talking to her friends in the girls' bathroom at school," I continued. "I heard her say Abby thought she was so cool to date an older guy. But it's not going to stop her from going off to college next year and leaving him behind."

Luke shook his head. "And how do you know it's not just a...what'd you call it...a fling for your brother too?"

"Because Marty's never spent so long with one girl before." I didn't know how to make Luke understand but I suddenly wanted to. "I think he moved out because of her." I turned to stare out the passenger-side window as I said it, because it seemed too personal to admit to Luke's face. "I found out he was seeing her right after he packed up and rented that place with Austin Fitz. I think he wanted to show her he wasn't a loser. To impress her, you know?" When I glanced over at Luke, I was startled at the intensity with which he stared at me. "Next year, she's going to run off and find some college stud and Marty's going to be left here alone."

"You don't know what's going to happen." He took my hand and looked deep into my eyes. "Paulbrook isn't that far away. Abby could come back to visit him every weekend."

"Why would she want to?" I yanked my hand away. "She'll be a fancy city girl by then, and Marty will still be a small town guy that works at a grocery store." I sighed and stared out the window again. I couldn't look at Luke. "She's going to make a laughingstock out of him."

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"Carrie, I think Marty can take care of himself. He knows what he's getting into."

I didn't want to say it wasn't as much Marty I was worried about, as it was me. Being with Luke was what I wanted more than anything. And that had even less promise than thinking Marty and Abby would end up happily ever after. I didn't want to go back to town where Luke was the cool guy and I was best friends with the school dork. Where he hung out with cheerleaders and football players and I stayed home every evening and either read or wrote.

I wanted to be like other girls. I wanted to understand why they put on so much makeup and worried about clothes. I wanted to have lots of friends, talk on the phone for hours, and gossip about who liked who. I wanted to care about stupid stuff like that. I wanted to be normal. No, that's not quite right. I liked being who I was. I liked being editor of the paper and focusing so much of my attention on that. I just didn't want to feel so odd anymore. I didn't want to be ashamed to be a grease monkey's daughter. I wanted to stay right here, in this new car where it was just Luke and me. I wanted to stay me, but I wanted Luke to stop being the macho guy he was in school, and be the poet who was shy about his abilities and liked to argue and debate everything with me. This was my Luke. And I didn't want him to go away like I knew he would.

But who was I kidding?

"You're right," I said, feeling miserable. "Marty can take care of himself."

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I turned to stare out the passenger-side window, focusing on an old house that had been abandoned for as long as I could remember. I said, "They really ought to tear that place down. Just look at that sagging roof." Luke gave a soft laugh behind me. "That would involve change."

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you ever noticed this town's stuck in a time capsule? It's like we've never heard of the term progress. I mean, there's hardly any cell phone towers around and forget about high speed internet."