Текст книги "Double Clutch"
Автор книги: Лиз Реинхардт
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
“Saxon, I already told you that isn’t cool. I like my bike, and when it’s too cold to bike, I’m going to take the bus.” I looked at him and tried to give a good serious look, but that’s kind of hard when you have on a skull cap with tiny moose all over it and a matching scarf.
“Listen. My date with Kelsie...” He paused and pushed a hand through his hair. “I don’t think there’s going to be another one.”
“Great.” I saw a look of hope flash in his eyes and felt good crushing it. “Great for Kelsie.” I put one foot on the pedal. “She can do a lot better. I have to go, Saxon. I’m late.”
And I took off, not really wanting to see his face, and not really wanting to stay and talk anymore, because I might say what I really wanted to say. That I wanted to go on a date, just me and Saxon in the dark at a theater or in a restaurant, trading stories and jokes and touching now and then. Being around Saxon was like drinking my one allotted glass of Thanksgiving wine: completely intoxicating to someone who had never had alcohol.
I knew the best way to get Saxon totally out of my system was to pedal as fast as I could to Tech. And Jake.
Chapter 3
When I got there, I was pleasantly surprised to see Jake standing in front of the bike rack. He wore a Carhart jacket and a skullcap pulled on over a baseball cap. His jeans were clean but really old and faded; not like the old and faded you could buy at the store. I could tell Jake’s were that way because he had worn them so much the fabric was giving way. He wore work boots that were splattered with mud. I wondered if that was because of the dirt biking.
“Hey!” he called.
I locked my bike up. “Hey yourself,” I smiled. “Why are you waiting out here?”
He shrugged. “Maybe I was excited to see you,” he said, his voice a little shy. His words sent a thrill of warmth through me. He looked at me quickly from under lashes that were lovely, long, and silky. I wondered if boys ever noticed their own lashes.
“You don’t have to freeze. I’ll come and meet you in class.”
“Then how could I offer to carry your books?”
I laughed. “You’re crazy,” I said, unintentionally echoing Saxon’s sentiment to me a few minutes ago. “I carry a backpack,” I pointed out.
“Good, ‘cause I don’t. Come on, before some better looking guy tries to pick you up, and I have to get in a serious fight.” He held out his hand, and even though I thought he was weird for wanting to, I gave him my backpack. He put it on and pretended to stagger under the weight. “Wow! Frankford must actually make you read and stuff.”
“Don’t you have to read at Tech?”
“Nope. Haven’t you heard? We’re all dirtbags here. We don’t need to read.”
He was mostly teasing, but I could tell he partially believed what he said, too.
“That’s not funny, Jake. You’re smart. If you don’t move your brain a little it’s going to slide out of your ear.”
He made a gross slurping sound and tilted his head over. I laughed.
“So what books are in here?” he asked as we walked down the hall.
“I’ve got a Government textbook and Lord of the Flies for English. And that’s all I’m doing academically. Oh, and my new laptop is in there. That’s why it’s so heavy.”
“Show me last period?” he requested.
“Sure.” The laptop hadn’t even come up with Saxon. He wasn’t really the kind of guy who you could talk to about everyday stuff. It was always exciting with Saxon, and sometimes that was strangely disappointing.
“Was it your birthday or something?” Jake asked. We were in the classroom, and he put my bag down carefully on the table. I liked how respectful he was with my things.
“No. It will be in a few weeks, on October 11th, but my dad wanted to give me the laptop for school.”
“Nice dad,” he said.
“When is your birthday?”
“November 3rd. I’ll be seventeen.”
“Really?” I said, surprised. I just assumed he was my age.
“Yeah. Do I seem immature? I stayed back in kindergarten.”
“Kindergarten. What can they hold you back for?”
“I was unsociable,” he recited.
“Like you wouldn’t play with anyone else in the block area?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t really know. I’ve been a dumbass for so long, it’s hard to remember all the specifics.”
I clucked my tongue at him. “You’re not a dumbass, Jake.”
He just avoided my eye contact. I had never met anyone who was so comfortable thinking so little of himself. I didn’t like it at all. Jake was way smarter than he gave himself credit for, and I hated that he was so blasé about brushing off compliments he totally deserved.
We took out our paper and started sketching. His was much more precise than mine, much more detailed. I’d like to think I had a better handle on the subtle aspects, the shading and play of light and dark, but I think it pretty clearly came down to the fact that Jake was just plain better.
We didn’t talk much all period. Jake really was a really hard worker, and very focused. He took his time and evaluated his work over and over. A couple of times, our hands brushed as we reached for the same eraser or sheet of paper. When they did, he looked at me and smiled his crooked smile, but that was as far as it went.
When we got to last period, he was way more relaxed. It was slated as a project period, which meant that we came up with an independent design project and worked on it for a few weeks. The first assignment was a business card. I already had several sketched out.
“Those are great.” I flipped them over so he could get a better look at the new tweaks on my project. His eyebrows furrowed together as he studied the card sketches for my fictitious t-shirt design company. “Mine are a lot more boring.”
“Let me see.” I’d watched him sketch out concepts upside-down, but hadn’t been able to get a good look.
He slid his sketch pad across the table and I flipped through his neat, symmetrical, smart prototypes. “Jake, these are awesome. Simple isn’t boring.”
He brushed the compliment off. “So how about you show me this new laptop?”
I was so excited to show him I could hardly unfasten the latch on my bag. “It’s pretty cool, right?”
He let out a low whistle. “This is nice.” He ran his hands over the cover and turned it over, checking the underside, his voice excited. “Go Dad.” He flipped the lid, then looked at me, startled. “Sorry. Is it cool if I take a look? ”
“Of course.” There was something about Jake I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He was hesitant, and I didn’t know why he would be. We had been comfortable with each other from the minute I met him, but he was always so careful. He was respectful towards me, but there was also a nervous, self-deprecating facet of him that never really went away.
“It’s pretty jacked.” I leaned in and showed him a few of the applications on it.
“Awesome.” He finally closed the lid. “I’m glad you have this. It’s going to make this class so much easier.”
“Do we have to do a lot of computer stuff?”
“Yeah,” he said. “There’s a lab though. That’s where I go to get my stuff done.”
“Sometimes it’s easier to work at school.” I slid my laptop back into my bag.
“Yeah, especially compared to my house,” he grimaced. “So, I got a truck from my grandpa a few months ago.” It seemed like he wanted to say more.
“That’s great. I’m not old enough to think about driving anything but my bike, since I’ll just turn sixteen this October.”
“You’re only fifteen?” he said, his eyes wide.
“I’m a fall baby, so I’ll stay fifteen for the first month of school. But I turn sixteen in October. It just seems like I’m super young, but I’m totally normal for a sophomore.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, then licked his lips nervously. “Right. So, not that you have to, but since I’m driving anyway, I wouldn’t mind giving you a lift home when it starts getting icy.”
“Jake, you live, like, half an hour from my house. I’m all the way in Augusta.”
“Oh. Augusta? Well, I work near there, and I’m pretty constantly at work.”
“You do? Where?” The thought of having a job right now was so foreign to me. Mom wanted me to spend my time studying, and we vacationed a lot in the summer. Plus, I had no skills.
“I work at Zinga’s Farm.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and showed me his id card. The picture caught his half smile. I pressed my finger to his smile on the card before he put it back.
“So, what do you do?” I asked, intrigued by this information.
“I run the tractors and help fix them. I load fruit and package it for shipping. I help in the shop. In the fall I work pumpkin patch and tractor rides and work the apple orchard. At Christmastime I work the tree farm. Spring we do mulch and flowers. Summer is berry picking. Boring stuff.”
“Sounds pretty good to me,” I said, completely impressed. “Are you saving the money up for something?”
“Uh, yeah, some. I had to buy a lot of new parts for the truck. And I want to get a new dirt bike.”
“Yeah, I saw your picture on Facebook.”
His face brightened. “You saw me on Facebook?”
“Yeah. I asked to be your friend. Don’t you check?”
“Hell, I’m gonna check now.” He smiled and leaned his chair back.
“Don’t lean back like that,” I warned. “You’re going to flip the chair back and smash your skull in.”
“There’s nothing in there to hurt anyway.” But he let his chair fall down with a thud. “So what are you reading for English again?”
“Lord of the Flies by William Golding. Have you ever read it?” I doubted he would have, and I could only imagine how painful that particular book on tape would be to listen to. The language in the book could knock you unconscious if the plot didn’t revolve around savage English kids.
“Is it worth reading?”
“Yeah. I mean, I think so. It’s about some English boys who go nuts and turn into delinquents after a plane crash that strands them on this island. No adults.”
“Sounds cool. Lord of the Flies. Why is that the title?”
“Can’t tell.” I gave him my best sidelong glance. “You’re just going to have to read it.”
He didn’t say anything, but when he ducked his head to work on his designs, I saw his mouth curve into a smile. I loved that he took my opinions seriously, that he wanted to read what I read and that he was open about being excited if I sent him a friend request.
“So, are you going on a date or something tonight?” He kept concentrated focus on the careful lines he sketched.
“Are you trying to ask if I’m single, Jake Kelly?” I teased, flicking the corner of his paper.
He laughed sheepishly, but still didn’t look up. “Maybe.” His mouth moved back and forth like he was debating saying something else. “You don’t have to answer.” Again, his voice went to that guarded place I wondered about.
“I’m not FBI, Jake.” I doodled a tiny star on his paper, then flipped my eraser around and rubbed it out. He trailed the tip of his finger through the eraser shavings. “You can ask me things. I do have plans tonight.” I felt a wicked kick of glee when I watched his face fall a little, knowing that it was all because he thought I was going on a hot date. “With my friend Kelsie. We’re going to paint our nails and watch sappy girl movies.”
“I like the sound of that.” He reached out with a jerky motion and caught my hand. I felt the breath catch in my throat and hold. He examined my nails. “They look nice like this.”
I realized that they had still had the remnants of slightly chipped blue polish on them. “They look terrible. You don’t have to lie to me to be nice, Jake. You can just say, ‘Wow, your nails look crappy.’” I did my best boy voice.
“Well, I will tell you that’s a crappy imitation of my voice.” He smiled so wide I could see his eyetooth from across the table. “But you’ve got to know you’re totally hot, chipped nails and all.” He burned beet red all the way to the roots of his hair. “Man, you get me to say some embarrassing stuff, Brenna.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.
“Hey, don’t blame me when you feel moved to make strange declarations.” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the giggles back. Then, feeling flattered and very brave, I added, “And you’ve got to know you’re totally hot, Jake.”
The blush that had been wearing away flamed bright red. “Thanks,” he said, not meeting my eyes, but smiling and shaking his head.
“Is this weirding you out?” I nudged his arm with my elbow.
“No.” Then his voice got very serious, “Just giving me a lot to think about.”
I leaned so close I could smell his crisp aftershave. “I knew I smelled something burning.” I tapped my head suggestively.
This time when he laughed the teacher looked up at us with a warning glint in her eyes, and we both ducked our heads and got back to work.
A few minutes later, I passed him a note.
Where do you ride your dirt bike? I wrote. I did it without thinking, the way I had done with someone sitting by me in school who I wanted to talk to a thousand times before. As soon as I turned the sheet and saw the nervous flicker in his eyes, I felt like a huge ass. He told me the first time I met him how hard it was to read and decipher.
He took out a pen and licked his lips nervously. Vernon. He wrote it very carefully and slowly.
Do you compete? I wrote. I did it because I didn’t want him to think that I thought he was stupid or that there was anything he couldn’t do.
He read it carefully, moving his lips around the words. He picked the pen up again. Yes. And I win.
I wrinkled my nose and wrote. So you’re a big shot? Maybe I’ll come and see you sometime.
I slid the paper to him and looked away while he read it. I didn’t want him to feel pressured, but I watched out of the corner of my eye as he moved his mouth and squinted. It reminded me of the few times I’d met a really cool kid in Denmark and struck up a conversation. A lot of people in Denmark take years of English, but they don’t always get to use it, especially in Jutland, which is the countryside. So I’d be rattling away, so excited to have anyone to talk to, and the kid would be working overtime trying to keep up and string together an answer that made some kind of sense. For me, it was all fun and then guilt. For them, it was just exhausting work.
You better. I have a race in 3 weeks. He wrote in neat, blocky writing, like a very textbook version of little kid print.
I’ll be there. Where? I asked.
The track at Vernon Valley.
With the snow? As far as I knew, they covered it with snow for skiing.
Not in He stopped and I saw him write an ‘a’ and a ‘t’ before he stopped again, erased and wrote, finally, fall.
I just nodded, and his shoulders actually sagged down with relief when I didn’t write more. I noticed that, when he thought I wasn’t looking, he slid the paper off of the edge of the table and put it into his front pocket.
We worked in companionable silence until the final bell startled us out of our peaceful little world.
I don’t think I have ever, in my entire life as a student, felt sad to hear the final bell ring on a Friday afternoon, but I definitely felt it that afternoon. My time with Jake was over, and I wouldn’t see him again until Monday.
He grabbed my backpack and walked down the long hallway full of jostling people.
“Will you stop by my locker with me?” He nodded a few rows down and I followed, leaning out of the way of the pushing crowds.
We stopped and he opened the locker door so I could see binders stacked neatly on top of one another and covered with doodles. He pulled some books out and then grabbed his coat and two hats.
“I like your hat combo.” I smacked the brim of his ball cap when he got it on.
He pulled the skullcap over it. “Good for sun, good for snow.”
We walked outside and he waited while I undid the chain on my bike. “I guess I’ll see you around.” I fiddled with the handlebars and kicked at my front tire.
“Yeah.” He adjusted his skullcap and pulled his brim lower. Neither of us wanted to leave, but what were we going to do, stand there shivering? “Man, it’s cold. This weather is crazy. I hear we might get flurries next week,” he said, and blew out of his lips in a long, hard rush. “I would kill for a license right now.”
“Did you ever notice that old trucks always have the best heat?” Thorsten’s truck made me sweat buckets when he cranked the heat in the winter.
“There’s a technical reason.” He winked at me. “Someday I’ll explain it all to you.”
And then, because he was just the best guy and I loved how he always smiled when he talked to me, and because I was missing him a little already, I leaned over and kissed him right next to his mouth, but not on it. He smelled minty and the corner of his mouth was dry and warm with just a little scratchy facial hair.
“Oh man,” he said as I pulled back. He blinked hard and turned red again. I got on my bike.
“You better be my Facebook friend when I check.”
“I’m gonna be your Facebook stalker.” The chip in his tooth glinted a little. His face fell suddenly. “I’m actually a little bummed we won’t be in school on Monday.”
“We won’t?” I asked, puzzled. And deflated. No school meant no Jake.
“It’s Labor day.” He ran his fingers along my handlebar, just around my mittened hands. “With this beautiful weather you didn’t realize? Aren’t you all ready for a nice picnic?”
“Seriously! I think my brain has frostbite. But that’s good news now that I know.” I inched one yarn-covered finger towards his hand, and he brushed his fingers over mine.
“I guess it depends on how much you’re looking forward to school. I might just get the perfect attendance award this year.” His fingers crept to the sliver of skin between my mitten and my jacket sleeve and brushed lightly, breaking my arm into goosebumps.
“Don’t bother on my behalf. I always skip a few days a year.” I bit my bottom lip and gave him my best rebel face.
“Call me before you do. School will be extra depressing when you’re absent.” He slid his hands off of mine, then off of the handlebars, then backed away a few reluctant steps so I had space to pedal.
“Bye, Jake,” I called over my shoulder.
“Be careful, Brenna!” he shouted.
When I looked back, he was still watching me ride away, all the way down the road.
Chapter 4
The wind was cold, but I felt so good I didn’t even mind. My cheeks ached from smiling. Saxon was intriguing, but there was something so real and decent about Jake. I pedaled faster, thinking about Mom waiting at the window, and then coasted for a minute, so I could pull my scarf up over my nose. She would probably grab it today to see if it was cold. I was happy that I was going to be able to tell her that I had plans with Kelsie tonight. She wanted me to hang out with kids my own age a little more.
But I didn’t want to tell her about Jake. She had some of the same prejudices about Tech kids that the rest of the county seemed to have, and I felt a little protective of him. I didn’t want to hear anyone say the things that seemed definitive of him; that he wasn’t very good at school, that he would probably end up laboring for the rest of his life, that he didn’t value academics the way I did. It might all be true about Jake, but that didn’t really define him. There was so much more to Jake than met the eye. He was humble and hardworking and determined. He wasn’t full of himself, but he had passion and he had good ideas and he was focused. I liked him.
I really liked him.
Which made the way I acted around Saxon all the more confusing. Why couldn’t I get him out of my system? Especially when I had the promise of someone as good as Jake to care about? Even if my mind wanted to reject Saxon, my body couldn’t. Something about the way he looked and moved and talked made me feel a warm rush that shook me to the core.
I hated it, but I couldn’t stop it anymore than I could stop a blush or a shiver. It was automatic. I pedaled faster, harder, focusing on my breathing as I moved quickly along the roads, sending vibrant red and orange and yellow leaves swirling up under my tires. I enjoyed the rolling hills, which forced me to work hard on the uphill, but let me relax as I coasted down. Hills were not part of the terrain in Denmark, so I was still getting used to the difficulty of pedaling up them.
I turned onto my road and almost slammed into a parked car.
It was a Charger, one of the new models that took up too much road and roared around like big hulking predators, but I liked them anyway. Or maybe I liked them because of those facts.
“Watch it!” I yelled hopping off of my bike as I skidded to a stop.
That’s when I saw the driver’s tinted window roll down. “Watch yourself, Blixen,” Saxon said coolly. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m driving a car. You’re on a bike. I don’t care who has the right of way, you’re not winning that one.” He lit a cigarette. I backed up.
“Get in the car.” He didn’t ask or plead. He just told me like I’d instantly obey.
“No way.” I got back on my bike.
“Your nose is red,” he said casually.
“So what?”
“So, your mom is gonna be pissed. Get in and warm up. We don’t need to go anywhere. We’ll just talk.” He held his arms out innocently. His face was so handsome, and his eyes were dark and devilish.
“I can’t. Mom will kill me if I smell like smoke.” I put one foot on the pedal.
He let the cigarette drop out of his mouth and crushed it under his heel. “Now c’mon. I’m trying to help you out with this whole ridiculous bike riding fiasco.”
I laid my bike on the uneven side of the road and climbed into the car, one hundred per cent against my better judgment.
“Don’t wait for me like this,” I said, even as my body rejoiced at the warm air blowing from the vents. He had music in, some kind of neopunk. “What are you listening to?”
“Folly.” He turned the volume up a little. “Do you know them?”
I shook my head.
“The drummer is a senior at Frankford. They’re playing a show next week. Here.” He popped the CD out of the player. “I’ve got another copy. Listen to it. If you like it, we can go see them.”
He didn’t ask if I wanted to go; he just assumed that I’d take him up on it. I shook my head.
“No thanks.”
“What? You don’t like music?” he asked, his voice low and mocking.
“I like music. I’ve…I’ve never been to a concert.” I flipped the vents open wider and basked in the heat, hoping I could store it up until I got home.
“Are you kidding?” He raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Tell me you’re not serious. Never?”
“No. Not with like a whole audience.” By now my skin was probably pink from the warmth. I should get out and go home. But I couldn’t do it. Not yet.
“What does that mean?” He stretched back in his seat and gave me his total attention.
“I means that I did see a band once, but by myself.” I pulled off my mittens and loosened my scarf. The air was getting extremely hot, and it wasn’t only because of the vents.
Saxon turned the heat down without glancing at the controls and rubbed his fingers against his thumb. “Like your parents came up with a cool mil and you got Beyonce to dance for you in your bedroom?”
I clucked my tongue. “Beyonce isn’t going to shake it in your bedroom for a mil. She‘s not some cheap lap dancer. My dad works for Saturday Night Live, and once Green Day was on as a live performer. I got to go to the rehearsal. My dad is a really huge fan, and he got me into them. But it wasn’t just me. It was me and my dad and the camera crew and sound guys.”
“Wow.” He shook his box of cigarettes, then did that annoying tapping on the box that apparently “packed the tobacco.”
It was an incredibly annoying spectacle. I wanted to say, If you’re going to smoke just do it. Don’t make it some big show. But even with those sentiments, I couldn’t stop myself from watching him do it. And even though I hated smoking, I could sort of see how some people might be able to give it that old Hollywood, James Dean cool look. Sort of.
“So you met the boys from Green Day? Unreal. Did you talk to them?” He peeled back the foil paper inside the carton.
I wished I had a more impressive story, but I didn’t. I’d been young and completely, dorkishly starstruck at the time. “No. Not really. I told them I was a fan, you know, cheesy stuff like that. They were super nice to me, though, and gave me autographs and all that.”
“Cool,” Saxon nodded. “Hey,” he said, and his voice completely lacked the excitement that Jake’s voice would have had if he was about to tell me something. “I talked to the guy from Folly about your shirt.”
“My shirt?” I repeated.
“Yeah.” He put a cigarette to his lips without lighting it. When he spoke, he moved his lips around the cigarette, which was obnoxious, especially because of how much I liked watching him do it. “He noticed it. He’s in your crafts class. Anyway, he was wondering if you’d be able to come up with something for Folly. So, whatever. If you don’t want to, don’t worry about it.”
“Okay,” I said, still in shock. “Why didn’t this guy just talk to me?”
He took the cigarette out from between his lips for a minute. “His name’s Chris Holcomb. Because he thinks you’re my girlfriend, so he thought I’d be able to get you to say yes.” Saxon put the cigarette back in his mouth and shrugged as if his words were no big deal. My heart was thudding in my chest.
“Why would he think we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?” I glared at him.
“Maybe because of the adoring way you’re always staring at me,” he said, his grin purposefully annoying. “C’mon? Really? He saw us after gym class the last two days. What can I say, Blix? We have an attraction that’s noticeable.” He leaned over me, his arm sliding past my stomach, and popped open my door. “Alright, I’ve held you captive long enough,” he said, but he didn’t lean back.
So quickly I had no time to react, he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, pulled me toward him, and pressed his lips on mine. His lips were soft at first, then firmer, then his tongue pressed into my mouth, gently. I opened my mouth, tasting the stale flavor of cigarette smoke and the crisp tang of orange Tic Tac. His hand slid to my jaw and it felt so great, big and warm and strong. Suddenly the entire world narrowed down to me and Saxon and our lips and tongues in that big shark of a car. My body felt warm and ready for something that I couldn’t put my finger on. I melted into him, pressed harder to his mouth and even moaned just a little bit.
Then I remembered Jake and our chaste kiss outside the school. I remembered Kelsie and our plans for the night. I pulled away with a start.
“No!” I grabbed my bag. “I don’t want you, Saxon,” I insisted, and my voice sounded wild in my own ears.
“I would say that’s not entirely accurate, Brenna.” He picked up the cigarette and lit it nonchalantly. The smoke began to furl from the end. “Now run along before Mommy smells smoke and you get in trouble.” He exhaled wide o’s from his open mouth and waved me away lazily.
I was so mad I slammed the car door as hard as humanly possible. I hated him! I hated his arrogance and his persistence. I hated that he could make me feel things for him when all I wanted to do was avoid him. I hated that being around him could threaten two friendships that were important to me. And I hated that I got in his car and kissed him back when he had told me with his own mouth that all he wanted was to get me out of his system. What was I doing?
I told myself I was just trying to get him out of my system, but that made me feel like just as big a jerk as he was.
When I got to the house, I saw the curtains flick and knew Mom wondered where I was. She did pull on my nose when I got in, and pinched my ears, but they were normal after all that hot air pouring out of Saxon’s vents. And mouth.
“Kelsie asked me to spend the night at her place. I told her you might be able to take me to Castle Video and pick up some chick flicks. Is that okay?”
She kissed my head hard. “Of course. I’m so glad you’re getting back together with your old girlfriends. It’s good for you to be around some nice girls your own age.”
I felt a wave of shame sweep through me. How could I have done this to Kelsie? The feel of Saxon’s mouth on mine was still vibrating through me, and, embarrassingly, it had made me feel a little wet and warm. I sighed, ashamed, wondering how I had become such a degenerate over the past few days.
“I’ll go pack a bag for overnight. Maybe when you and Thorsten come to get me tomorrow, we can go to IKEA?” It would be cool to have Kelsie come to my place, but it might be a little weird if my room was still lavender. Then again, I had never been in Kelsie’s room. It could be Barbie pink for all I knew.
“That would be fun. Pack the IKEA catalog in case you want to look through it tonight.”
I stuffed a change of clothes for the next day, pajamas and a toothbrush and toothpaste in a bag with some nail polish and my iPod and pillow. I met Mom in the kitchen and we got in the car, ready to go to Castle Video.
“So, how was school?” My mom had a serious lead foot, and I watched the speedometer so I could warn her if she did more than ten over.
“Good. My classes are all really decent. I even like gym this year,” I admitted.
“I always had a feeling you might be a closet athlete. Good for you, Bren. It’s about time you started to really let yourself shine.”
I smiled wanly. If only she knew that what I seemed to be excelling at was kissing multiple boys in a single day.
We went in and I grabbed the Nicholas Sparks movies. I convinced Mom to rent two for herself and Thorsten, and then she bought a couple of big tubs of microwave popcorn and some soda for Kelsie and me.
She dropped me at Kelsie’s with a quick kiss. “Keep your cell on. Love you, baby.”
“Love you!” I called, and she waited until I was in the door and Kelsie’s mom waved before she pulled away.
“It’s so nice to see you again, Brenna,” Kelsie’s mom said.
“It’s nice to see you, too, Mrs. Jordan.” I liked Kelsie’s warm, sweet mom. Unlike my mother, Kelsie’s mom gave her plenty of space and didn’t ask many questions.
Kelsie crashed down the stairs. “Hey Brenna! C’mon up!”
I smiled at her mom and followed Kelsie to her bedroom, which was definitely not Barbie pink. It was a deep purple and covered with posters of Salvador Dali paintings, Janis Joplin posters, and black and white photos of local places and wildlife that I was pretty sure Kelsie had taken. The carpet was covered with rugs that looked like Indian saris, and there was another silky sari-like covering on the bed. Kelsie had plants all over and white twinkle lights around her windows and ceiling. They made the room seem warm and cozy.
