Текст книги "Junk Miles"
Автор книги: Лиз Реинхардт
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I heard his father put his keys down in the kitchen, then listened with dread as his heavy boot-steps echoed down the hall, closer and closer to Jake’s door. I was positive he’d stop and poke his head in, especially since the light from the television was still on, but he didn’t. The master bedroom door opened and snapped shut.
I let out a huge breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding in.
Jake put an arm around me. “He wouldn’t care if he knew. I swear.”
I felt a hot prickle when I realized that Jake was saying it because he was positive about it. Because he’d had other girls over and his father hadn’t cared.
Jake put the controls away, flipped the TV off, and put an arm around me again, but I brushed it off. “Don’t be so worried,” he crooned in my ear.
“I’m not.”
“What’s wrong?” He put a hand on my chin and rubbed it gently with his fingers. “Brenna? Tell me.”
“Was she here? Did she stay over?” It was stupid to ask. We were trying to forget that it had all happened, not keep dragging it out over and over. Especially since I was the one who broke up with Jake and fooled around with Saxon.
“Do you want me to answer that? Really?” Jake’s voice was hard with frustration.
“I guess you already answered.” I looked around his cramped, bland room, so foreign in the dark. It was weird to think that this was the exact place Jake sat when we had our marathon phone conversations. I decided to focus on those thoughts and how generally good the night had been instead of pointing fingers. Especially when I really had no business pointing out anyone else’s mess ups. “It really doesn’t matter. I’m ready to go to sleep now.” I smiled.
Jake’s return smile was cautious. “Do you need to wash your face and all that?”
I nodded and grabbed my overnight bag, feeling weird and shy suddenly. “Okay, I’m going.”
“Okay.” He laughed and fell back on the bed. “I’ll be right here.”
I changed in the bathroom and spent a long time washing my face and brushing my teeth. I snuck back in the room and found Jake dozing. I poked him awake, and he stumbled across the hall. I snuggled under the covers while he was getting ready, and his pillow felt uncomfortable under my head, but smelled perfectly familiar, just like Jake.
He opened the door softly and closed it behind him. He pulled off his shirt and let his jeans drop, then yanked off his socks, balled them all up and threw them in the hamper in the corner of his room. He stood for a long minute, so handsome in just his boxers, in front of the bed, then slid in next to me. His body was long and warm next to mine, and I rolled into his arms, where I fit snug and tight as a key in a lock.
He looked down at my face in the dim flow from the streetlights that shined in his window. “I love how you look when you have no makeup on.”
“What? I spend a lot of time getting makeup on when I know I’m going to see you! I won’t do it anymore if you’re going to be unappreciative.” I leaned up and kissed his chin.
“You look great no matter what, but I love you without makeup on. You look so beautiful and, I guess I feel like I get to see you in a way no other guy gets to.” He pressed his mouth to mine.
“I love you so much,” I whispered when he pulled away.
“I love you.” His arms clamped around me tight. “More than anything in the world. Don’t forget that. I know I tried to be all cool with it, but it broke my heart when I thought I lost you.”
I held him tighter. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
He held me close and whispered. “Forget it. It’s just you and me, no problems, doing this thing together. We’ll be unstoppable.” His voice dropped off sleepily. A few minutes later, he was snoring softly, and I was still locked safe and sure in his arms.
Chapter Eighteen
After that night, life went back to something like the normal it had been before Jake and I broke up, but it wasn’t exactly the same. For one thing, my cross country glories meant that our team kept going and going, and the season stretched out all the way to states. Once Mom gave her okay for me to run again, I was as fast as ever. I had been a little nervous that with no craziness to worry about, no stresses to work out on the track, I’d just stop running. But that didn’t happen. In fact, I ran faster, the buzzing in my head gone and replaced with calm focus.
Jake made every big meet with my parents. He and Mom had come to an uneasy truce.
“Bren, don’t you think that dating a little more would be a good thing?” she had asked the night before I went back to school.
I’d said it before, and I would say it again; my mother was the best mother on earth, but she was no dummy. She had seen most of the whole sordid thing unfold right in front of her eyes, and she was dead set on milking the momentum of it.
“I will,” I said honestly. “If I meet someone great, I will hang out with him. I promise. But, Mom, I have to say this; Jake is awesome. It sounds like the biggest teenage clichй, but you don’t understand what he’s like.”
Mom sighed a long, tortured sigh. “Jake is a great guy,” she said with no real conviction. “But that doesn’t mean you two have to be joined at the hip to be happy.”
“I hardly see him,” I protested. “We only see each other for a few hours in school, and he works a lot. Plus that I have cross country, and I’ve been seeing Kelsie more.” Kelsie and Chris decided to spend more time with friends, since they’d been practically living together and getting on each other’s nerves. I was glad that she reached out to me. “I’m not exactly weeping every minute I’m not with him.” Though I did get sad without him. Especially when the panic of our breakup rushed over me once in a while.
“I just want you to keep your options open,” Mom said, and then she said a few more things that were basically along the same line of the first statement, and I listened respectfully, but as soon as we were done talking, I gave her a kiss and when she left my room, I called Jake. I did not tell him what Mom and I talked about.
Because things with Jake were still a work in progress, which I liked, but had to be careful with.
Like I had to balance what ‘freedoms’ I wanted with what might hurt his feelings. Hence, no direct hanging out with Saxon. Who had, since our last meeting at my sick-bed, been in and out of the pants of a half a dozen girls, at least that could be confirmed. That didn’t really creep me out; what was weird was the kinds of girls he was picking; brains, cross-country runners, and artistic girls, all types that in some form or another I liked, respected, and felt a definite connection with. He only ever commented on it once, in Government.
We were viciously trying to capture more blue states in a geeky bid to control Sanotoni’s U.S. map. I said something random, and he laughed. That wasn’t that out of the norm; I had a fair ability to crack Saxon up.
He looked leaner, a new set of tattoos peeked out from under the sleeves of his Blondie t-shirt, and his hair was cut in a low mohawk. He also had a lip ring, which he moved with his tongue incessantly. Now he was laughing and the silver hoop around his bottom lip gleamed. “You’re damn funny, Blix.”
“I’m glad I can amuse you.” I rolled my eyes at him, but I actually meant it.
“It’s not as easy as you’d think,” he confessed. “I know I have a short attention span, but that’s only because I’m hard to amuse, not easy. You were the only girl I’ve ever met who kept my interest.” He grinned, a tight, angry slash of his mouth. “But you and Jake deserve each other. Don’t you?”
I looked busily down at my paper. “I’m not answering that,” I said quietly. The good mood was gone and we were back to business.
Other than Saxon, Jake and I tried to spend more time with other people, friends and in groups. My t-shirts, the fairytale ones, sold as quickly as the ones I had made for Frankford’s up-and-coming band, Folly, had, and without an awesome group of musicians to push them. Kelsie encouraged me to bring them to some local art fairs, and I was doing really well selling them and meeting fantastically cool people.
Like the guy who made knee-high leather boots by hand. Apparently Steven Tyler from Aerosmith had three pairs. I met a lady who made bark baskets based on an ancient Native American template. I also met jewelers, instrument makers, weavers, and wood carvers. It was like this whole other community within a community.
And Jake was mostly cool with it. “I want you to do your thing,” he said, as he glared at the young drum maker’s apprentice with dreads and a big smile for me and Kelsie. “I trust you.”
And that was the truth. If nothing else, Jake knew I was honest. Even if I couldn’t tell him right away, Jake knew I’d always eventually come clean. Even if my compulsion to always tell the truth had so much more to do with my inability to deal with any bottled-up emotions than a truly good spirit.
Not that that was easy. Once Jake and I had lounged around kissing and laughing for an entire afternoon, I made him tell me. Everything. I came clean too, because I thought it was important to do it. Even if it sucked. Which it did.
Apparently the condom wrapper on the bed hadn’t been a prop. Nikki hadn’t been anyone he particularly cared about, but that hadn’t stopped him from sleeping with her and easing into a casual dating relationship. Which added one more intimacy to his already overlong list.
And even though he’d slept with Nikki, he had no problem being incredibly pissed that Saxon and I had fooled around. We had found a spare, quiet afternoon to just be together in his little boring room. But we got to talking, and talking turned into arguing. Mainly about why my few sessions fooling around with Saxon carried more weight than his sex with Nikki.
“But you likedhim,” he argued, his face rigid with anger.
“But you screwedher,” I said coldly.
We stared each other down until Jake nodded. “Fine. Can we call a truce?”
“I don’t know. Can we?”
“I want to.” He pulled me back into his arms and kissed me soundly. “Are we done driving each other crazy for a while?”
“I think so,” I said. And that was the truth, too.
And it was the truth that it felt good to be back with him. I loved to hear the rumble of his truck, which now pulled right into my driveway; I didn’t want Mom and Thorsten not knowing, and they were surprisingly cool with it. Mostly because February and March were so cold they made your stomach clench when the wind blew, and the thought of me in Jake’s always-warm truck was comforting to them.
It was on the way to school one random day in March when Jake brought up the one thing I hadn’t imagined him having any interest in.
“So I have junior prom this year.” He flipped radio stations.
“Oh, yeah? Do you have a hot date?” I snuggled next to him.
He laughed. “Maybe. Maybe not. My girlfriend is smoking’, but she’s this wild liberated woman. I’ll ask her, but she might shoot me down.”
“Don’t you think a wild, liberated woman might want a poufy dress and some body glitter and a corsage?” I was already getting a little rush just imagining it all.
“Are you saying you’ll go with me?” Jake asked.
I leaned over and kissed his neck, smooth and hot-skinned and perfect. “Of course I’ll go with you. You’ll dance with me, right?”
He blushed a little. I loved it. As I salivated over his reddened skin, he looked straight ahead wildly. “I want to. But my spine is pretty much soldered directly to my hips, Bren. I’m not really good at dancing.”
“I’ll teach you,” I promised. Not that I was world class, but I had a few moves. And the point of a prom was dancing. “And I’m not going to be able to go to the shore or anything after prom.” Speaking of the point of the prom.
He laughed again. “Do you really think I was expecting to weasel your virginity away on prom night? Do I look like that much of an uninspired jackass?”
“Don’t ask,” I teased. “You can go back out with your friends after you drop me, or Mom can give me a ride home.”
He shook his head. “I know you try to be all fair-minded, but give me some credit. I’m not going to split after prom without you, and I’m sure as hell not asking Mom to come pick you up.” He shivered. “That just gave me a chill. Like, an actual chill down my spine.”
“What? The idea of leaving me after prom?”
“No, the image of the evil shooting from your mother’s eyes when she finds out that someone is ditching her little girl.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “I have no defense against that kind of pure angry woman power.”
“You have no defense against anywoman power.” I grinned.
“Hey,” Jake said as Frankford came into view. “Today started out pretty awesome. Let’s skip, I’ll take you to the new Christian Bale movie so you can squeal over him and then I’ll take you back to my place and you can calm my bruised ego. Eh? Eh?” His gray eyes were crinkled up with his smile.
Who could say no to that? My heart felt big and warm and blooming. “Let’s do it.”
Christian Bale was delicious. Almost as delicious as the mozzarella and tomato sub with extra oil and vinegar I ate after. Then we did go back to Jake’s house. We’d been taking it reasonably slow since we got back together. Part of the whole reconciliation thing involved me getting over the fact that Jake’s wrongs would just have to be more extreme than mine. I was furious that he slept with another girl, but we were completely broken up at the time. I had gone as far as I’d gone with anyone with Saxon. I didn’t love it, but I understood that making peace meant I had to let it go as best I could.
But the giddiness of the whole afternoon made us even giddier in bed. Jake stripped down to his boxers. “C’mon. Skivvies time,” he added, shaking his hips in what I know he thought was an alluring way. It made me laugh so hard, I almost couldn’t breathe.
“I hate that word,” I gasped out when he finally stopped gyrating in front of me.
Winded, he fell on the bed next to a fully-clothed me. “What word?” he panted.
“Skivvies. Doesn’t it just sound kind of gross?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I think it was an old-fashioned word for men’s underwear.”
“Well, that makes sense then. There’s nothing grosser than men’s underwear.”
“Do you want me to take them off?” Jake asked, grabbing at his waistband.
“No!” I laughed again.
Not that we hadn’t been naked before, but it was always a gradual kind of thing.
“Come under the covers with me,” he coaxed. “I’m freezing.”
“You’re the moron who just took off all of your clothes,” I pointed out.
“So I’m dumb and cold. Take some pity on me.” He wiggled under the covers like a little kid. “I’ll beg,” he said agreeably. I don’t think he had any idea how adorable he was, his handsome, clean-shaven face, his shiny brown hair and smoothly muscled arms and chest.
“You love begging.” I giggled.
“Only you, baby. C’mon, Bren. I sat through that traumatically crappy movie.”
“It was a good movie!” I protested.
“I fell asleep twice and mostly all I could think about was this itch on my a…”
And he stopped because I had my shirt off.
“New bra?” he croaked a little.
It was. Pink polka dots, very scantily cut with just a little lace. The underwear matched. Once I was down to them, Jake was sitting up straight.
“Wow. I’m really glad I picked today to seduce you back to my house,” he said lowly, and pulled me down onto the bed next to him. Then his mouth was on mine, and I felt the scrape of his watch band, the watch I bought him, as he slid his hand up my stomach and cupped my breast. “Brenna,” he breathed, his mouth moving down along my collar bone and to the tops of my breasts, pushed up and out by my excellent bra. Then my excellent bra was off and on the floor and Jake’s hands and mouth were everywhere it had been.
He kissed down my ribs and along the line of my stomach, then concentrated on my belly button, and my hips. He stopped kissing me for a minute and lifted his head.
“Do you mind if I go further?” he asked, his voice quiet in the cool of his room.
I wasn’t sure. Jake’s fingers played at the lacy waist of my underwear, tracing a finger under the elastic band carefully. He waited patiently.
“I don’t know.” Part of me wanted it so much I was squirming for him to continue; another part of me shied away from something that intimate.
“Then I won’t.” He said it evenly, in that sweet Jake voice that he always used with me when we were fooling around. He wasn’t about to force anything. We kissed and touched until I was warm and exhausted.
He took a long piece of my hair and held it out.
“You have great hair.” He put it to his nose and inhaled.
“Yeah? I was thinking of dyeing it. Black.” I looked at him from the corner of my eye.
He smiled and shook his head.
“What, you don’t have anything to say?” I taunted.
“No way. If I say what I think, you’ll have black hair tomorrow just to spite me.”
“So you think I’d look ugly with black hair?” I hooted.
“I didn’t say that. Stop putting words in my mouth!” he ordered. “I’m just saying, if I say, Don’t do it, Brenna, you’ll do it just to show me you can.”
“I don’t do things like that.”
“That’s exactly how you do things.” He ran his hand over my hair. “I like that about you. That you’ll take a challenge to the extreme.”
“Rebel, rebel,” I muttered, remembering Saxon’s descriptions of me.
“So, about prom,” Jake said, his voice a little nervous again. “I bought the bids already, but I have to pick a corsage. Right? So when you know what color dress you’re wearing, let me know and I’ll go get something. That matches.” It sounded like he was asking me.
“Okay.” I kissed his nose and wiggled with excitement. “I will. Where are you getting your tux?”
He looked confused. “Do I have to wear a tux?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “But most people do. Do you want to wear a suit?”
“I don’t know if my old suit will fit,” he said, and I didn’t have to see it to know that it was a short, gawky, poorly-cut polyester mess.
“Maybe, if you don’t want to rent a tux, you can go and buy a new suit.” I was desperate to keep him from what I was positive was his awful mess of a suit.
“Don’t you want to see my suit?” he asked, his mouth curved into a smile.
“No, I don’t.” I grimaced.
He jumped up anyway and left his room. He came back with a suit in a crinkly plastic bag. I got up and looked while he pulled the bag away.
You could tell on sight that it was an expensive suit. It was chocolate brown, three buttons, and a fabric so fine and soft it looked like it had to be made with silk. But I didn’t know for sure.
Jake pulled the pants on. They were a perfect fit. He put the jacket on, no shirt underneath, and he looked amazing. Just like that. His body was suit-perfect. And the suit was great on him; much better than any boring black tux. He would look awesome. I had underestimated Jake’s judgment again.
“Wow.” I smoothed my hands over the lapels and along the arms. “I really like it.”
“It was my grandpa’s. Apparently he was pretty loaded. Anyway, I’m supposed to be the spitting image of him. I guess. No one has any pictures or anything.”
“Your mom’s father.” I felt a little weird knowing what I did about his father when he was in the dark.
“No. My dad’s. That’s what she said, anyway, Mom. It’s weird, though, because my dad is supposed to look just like his father, too. And I know that must seem weird, because I don’t look anything like him.” He looked down at his body in its suit. “And there’s no way he would have fit this suit.”
I felt a cold quake in my stomach. Jake’s mother had told him things about his real father without him realizing it. Maybe she planned to tell him all along. I was sure she never thought she’d get cancer and die young. She probably thought she’d have plenty of time to tell him everything. There was no way to know what she had planned.
“Bren? You okay?” He was next to me in a second. Since my run-in with pneumonia Jake had been as insane about my health as Mom.
“I’m fine.” I smiled a forced smile. “I’m just shocked that a suit that old can still look so great. I’ll get a dress that goes with it, and we can go shopping for a good dress shirt and a tie. And socks.” I shuddered a little to think of Jake dressed to the nines with white tube socks on. “And shoes,” I added, when the mental image of his boots finished everything off.
“I’m glad you like it.” He wriggled out of the jacket. “I knew you’d think it was some crappy department store suit.” He laughed. “I know how you think.”
I didn’t have anything to say to that one. Thank God he didn’t, really.
Later that night, I talked to Mom about the prom.
“Mom, Jake is going to his junior prom, and he invited me.” I was careful to keep my voice even, like it was no big deal one way or another.
If Mom had any trepidations about prom or Jake or anything else, they all left her head when she imagined prom dress shopping.
“Oh, Bren!” Her eyes sparkled, and I could see the wheels in her head turning as she planned it all out. “Let’s go next weekend! We’ll try Lord and Taylor first. They always have a good selection. If not, we’ll go to Nieman Marcus. Oh, this is going to be so fun!”
I was glad Mom was so excited. So excited, she didn’t really pester me for many details. Other than what Jake would wear. When I told her about his great suit, she grabbed onto the idea, excited about the “classic” look of a good suit. I left my mom to toy over the intricacies of prom dress buying and claimed homework.
Which I had. But more importantly, I had to call the only person I could talk to about Jake.
“Hey Blix. I’m about to go seduce the field hockey center from Sparta High. She’s a little mean, but very, verysexy. Like an Amazon.” Saxon filled me in on things I didn’t care to hear because he wanted me to be jealous and to know that he was getting on with his life without me. I knew I kind of deserved it, so I put up with it and tried not to react in any way that would encourage him to tell me more.
“Good luck with that,” I said absently. “Can I talk to you for a minute about Jake?”
“What is it?” His voice dropped that uber sexy drone he’d been using on me as soon as I mentioned Jake’s name.
“He invited me to prom. He’s going to wear a suit. It fits him perfectly, and his mom told him it would because it was his father’s father’s, and he’s the spitting image, but it didn’t make sense to Jake since he looks nothing like the man he thinks is his dad. And I had to sit and listen to the whole thing, and I don’t think it’s right…” I trailed off from my long-winded ramble because I really didn’t know what else to say, and I wanted to know what Saxon’s take on the whole thing would be.
“Just keep your mouth shut,” he snapped.
I bristled. I didn’t expect him to be sweet and understanding, but he didn’t have to be an asshole, either.
“I don’t think it’s right.” I squeezed the phone tight.
“What? That Jake has a really good suit and a few questions?” he snarled. “Look, he has an okay thing going. I’m not going to pretend it’s super fantastic for him, but it’s not shit. And knowing the truth would be illuminating the shit.”
“I think he needs to know,” I pressed, my palms suddenly sweaty. “I don’t like keeping it from him.”
“Is this about Jake, Brenna? Or is it about you?” Saxon asked, his voice rough. “Because it sounds like it has to do with your goody-goody conscience. I’m sure you made some inane promise to never lie again, but you made a promise to me first, and I expect you to keep it.”
“I will.” I promised Saxon that I wouldn’t tell that he and Jake had the same father, and I wouldn’t. “Do you have any intention of telling him?”
“No. And now, I have a girl to try to get into my infamous backseat. So this conversation is over.”
He clicked off, and I was left in the quiet of my bedroom. I pulled out my school books and tried to get to work on my homework, but this was nagging at me, and I couldn’t shake it.
Chapter Nineteen
I suddenly felt tense with Jake, and I had this terrible fear that I would just blurt the truth out. I imagined every possible reaction from him. I imagined him furious at me for keeping it from him. I imagined him getting emotional, being elated, shrugging it off. But mostly, I imagined his anger. Because that seemed the most likely.
I was able to put it out of my mind when I shopped with my mother, mostly because Mom was such a focused shopper, it was hard not to concentrate when she was in charge.
She swept into the formal section of Lord and Taylor like she owned it, and began picking up dresses, basically anything my size that was remotely pretty, then hustled me into the carpeted, big-mirrored dressing room and started pushing things at me.
I came in and out of the dressing room in dresses that were clinging and billowy, turquoise and ruby, sequined and embroidered, beautiful and…not so much.
Mom was ruthless and quick, ordering me in and out of things with such incredible speed, I actually felt like I was getting a workout.
Finally I tried on the one.I knew it the minute I shimmied into it. It was icy blue, with silver embroidery on the fitted bodice. It had a sweetheart neckline and a big, ballroom-style tulle skirt. It felt like it floated around me. It was big and kind of over-the-top, but I loved it, and Mom did, too.
“That’s it,” she said decisively. “Do you love it? I can tell from your face what you’re going to say.”
“I love it.” I sighed, and I felt that dreamy happiness that only a really fabulous, completely extravagant princess-style ballgown can create in a girl.
“You can use your silver heels from Paris.” Mom took one more long look, then hurried me out of it, and helped me hang up the discards as she chattered. “We’re not going to find anything sexier here. But I’d like to look at some jewelry, too. Since it’s sleeveless, you’ll have a lot of open neck space. And we want something pretty for your hair. What are you thinking of doing to it?”
Mom and I chatted right up to Cinnabon, where we got deliciously gooey buns and ate them giddily. We were having such a good time, I took a chance on talking to her about my Jake dilemma. Not with any actual details, of course. Mom had an ironclad memory, and I was never sure when something I said to her would come back to bite me in the ass.
“Mom, I have a problem.” I took another sticky bite of cinnamon bun.
She took a sip of her soda, wiped the sugar off of her fingers and looked right at me. “What is it, Bren?”
“I have a friend. And I know a big secret about him. One that could be really important. But it’s not really my business to tell it. Only, I don’t like keeping this secret from him. And the reason I can’t tell…” And then it got too convoluted.
“Tell me, Bren.” Her voice was wise as an Oracle’s.
“Jake lives with the man who is his step-dad, but he doesn’t know it. His mother was pregnant with another guy’s baby, and she married Jake’s step-dad without telling him.” I took a deep breath. “And Jake’s real dad is also Saxon’s.”
Mom was less surprised than I expected. “They have the exact same frame.” She nodded. “And their facial shape is the same. If it wasn’t for their coloring, everyone would realize that they’re related.”
It dawned on me that my mother was trained to see the lines and patterns that connected everything. I had never really noticed it because I was so close to the two of them.
“So Saxon is the one who told me, and their father told him. But Jake’s been in the dark all this time. And he knows things are weird, but he can’t figure it out. And I don’t think his step-dad knows.”
“I doubt that, sweetie.” Mom took a long sip. “Just because Jake’s step-father doesn’t say anything doesn’t mean he doesn’t know. Lylee mentioned Jake’s mother when we were in France. Apparently they all had reputations for being pretty wild, and they were both very young mothers. There was probably a lot more going on than anyone realizes.”
“Oh.” It was all I could think to say. I’d been thinking of this from the perspective of a friend or girlfriend. But I hadn’t really wrapped my head around it as the problem of a son or daughter. Once that dawned on me, I realized that there was going to be more to the entire situation because parents always kept their kids in the dark about certain things in order to protect them. That’s all there is to it.
By the time Mom and I were home that night, I didn’t feel like calling Jake or Saxon. I unzipped the bag that hung on the back of my closet door, a long white bag that held my blue dress. I pressed my face to the soft tulle of the skirt and sighed. Like a girl. Long and contented. I was thrilled that I could appreciate small happinesses. Like the most incredible dress in the world.
My phone rang, and it took me a minute to fumble it out of my purse, so by the time I had it in my hand, there was no time to check and see who was calling.
“Hey Bren!” It was Kelsie.
“Hey! I just got the most beautiful dress for Jake’s prom. Please come over later and love it with me.” I pressed my face against it again.
“Ohmygod!” she squealed. “Tell me what it looks like.”
Then Kelsie and I spent a good fifteen minutes talking about my fabulous dress, right down to the tiny crystal flower centers.
“I have to see it,” she said finally. “Listen, it’s so weird you got that dress, because I was calling about prom; Chris has this good friend whose date ditched him and he’s, like, heartbroken. Anyway, he’s had this little crush on you, and I was wondering if you might be willing to go with him? Please?”
“Um, when is it?” I felt a little nervous. Kelsie had a big heart. A big, big heart, and she tended to see people in their best lights. Like a really creepy, moody guy could be, in Kelsie’s eyes, a misunderstood sweetie. It was refreshing and admirable. Unless you are the crushed-on blind date of said psycho/sweetheart. “And do I know this guy?”
“It’s Nate. From the Folly show. Remember Nate? And it’s in three weeks.”
I did remember Nate, and I sighed with relief as I called up the memory of him. A genuinely nice guy with a lot of tattoos and facial metal. And, since Vo Tech’s prom was in two weeks, I could go as long as Mom said yes. Which she would, no question, since it was technically ‘dating other guys.’ I grinned to myself when I imagined her jaw drop over Nate’s neck tattoos.
