Swept Up Page 5

  This place?

  “Marla’s spring break is later than ours,” Eve explained. “She has the week off and some of her family is close by so she’s spending the days with them and the evenings with me. Worked out perfectly.”

  “That’s cool,” I said. Sure, everything was perfect for them. All I wanted was to get away. I had to be nice, though, even if Marla was looking at me like she wanted to shove me. “I was actually just about to invite Eve to the Waffle Cone.” Lie, but not the point. “You have not experienced Rockford until you’ve had one of their signature ice creams in a homemade cone. You’ll never buy ice cream at the grocery store again. What do you say?”

  No one said anything at first. Marla gave Eve this look that I couldn’t read—a tiny smile and raised eyebrows. Did that mean Let’s go! Or was it more, Seriously? This girl is desperate and crazy and so not worth your time.

  “That sounds really fun,” Eve finally said. “But I promised to take Marla to the old cemetery. We’re going to see what the oldest tombstone there is.”

  “Oh, okay. Have fun,” I said, thinking maybe they would ask me to come along. Eve was thoughtful like that. She would totally do it.

  “Thanks, though,” Eve said.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Marla said. “You ready, Eve?”

  At least I could finally say I knew what it felt like to be rejected to your face. It felt a lot like being kicked in the stomach. Could I really blame them, though? Marla was in town to spend time with Eve, not some pseudofriend of Eve’s. And not even a good pseudofriend. A pretty lousy one.

  “See you at school tomorrow,” Eve said.

  “I heard there’s a tombstone from the 1600s there,” I called as they walked away. “Keep an eye out!”

  Marla smiled and looked back at me, and then I swore I heard her say, “I thought you weren’t friends with her . . .”

  But they were sort of far away by then. It’s hard to say for sure. I probably didn’t hear her right . . . CHAPTER 7

  “You’re terrible!” Jonah said.

  “Give me five more minutes and I’ll overtake your position,” I said.

  We were at Jonah’s playing a new Enemy Warcraft game he’d picked up over the weekend. There were tanks, machine guns, snipers, hostages—the works. But since I’d never played this version before, I needed a couple of rounds to settle in.

  It’d been a while since we’d hung out together, just the two of us, like old times. It felt really good and easy, like no time had passed at all.

  “Ka-blewy!” Jonah yelled as he demolished my position in the bushes.

  I tossed the remote in mock anger and said, “How can you possibly be satisfied knowing you beat me at a game I’ve never played before?”

  “Because,” he said with a smile, “I know the next time we play you’ll kill me.”

  “Probably,” I said.

  “Want to go another round?” he asked.

  “You got it.”

  This time, I understood the game better and beat him. Not by much, but still—I won.

  Before I went home for dinner, I told Jonah, “We should hang out more, just us. If your ego can stand it, that is.”

  “It is pretty hard being friends with someone who constantly whops you,” he said. “But yeah, you’re right. We should hang out more.”

  As I walked to the back door I said, “See you in the morning?”

  “Yep,” he said. “Breakfast at your place.”

  At least some things didn’t change.

  After dinner, I helped Mom clear the dishes and put away the tiny bit of leftover grilled chicken and asparagus. She and Dad went upstairs to watch TV in their room and I settled in at the table to do homework. I was totally into the algebra worksheet (ha-ha, not) when there was a knock at the back door.

  “Come in!” I said, figuring it was Jonah. No one else knocked on or came through that door but him. Our backyards backed up to each other and there was a gate built into our fences. He came through it most mornings, stopping in our kitchen for breakfast before we walked to school together.

  The door slowly opened, and around the frame popped an unexpected, unsure face: Kyle’s.

  “Hey!” I said, standing up.

  “Hey,” he said, staying behind the door. “Is it okay to come in?”

  “Of course,” I said. “I thought you were Jonah.”

  Kyle stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “He told me I could come in this way. I hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “Wanna sit down?”

  “No, that’s okay. I was actually wondering if you wanted to go for a walk?” he asked. Except it was kind of like he asked the kitchen table, not me. He only flicked his eyes up to meet mine after he asked the question.

  “Yeah, sure,” I said. “Let me just go tell my parents.”

  I flew up the stairs and asked if I could go out with Kyle.

  I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. There was a boy, in our house, asking me to go for a walk at dusk on a Monday.

  “Hello there,” Dad said, following me back into the kitchen. He held out his hand. I was mortified. Fully and completely mortified at what was about to happen. I looked to Kyle, whose eyes had gone a bit buggy, his shoulders inching up toward his ears.

  “Hello, sir,” Kyle said.

  Sir?!

  “Kyle, is it?” Dad asked, even though he knew because I told him five seconds ago.

  “Yes, sir. Kyle Lancaster.”

  “Where are you kids heading off to on a school night?” he asked.

  “Dad,” I said, my back slumping in annoyance. “I told you, we’re just going for a walk. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

  “Kyle, son,” he said, ignoring me. “What are your plans for the future?”

  “Dad!”

  “College? Work?” he continued as Kyle stood stunned, his mouth slightly agape. “Military?”

  “We’re going,” I said. I knew Dad was joking but Kyle didn’t, which was all that mattered. “I’ll be back in fifteen.”

  Dad finally smiled and pulled me into a side hug. He kissed my head—mortification overload!—and said, “Make it twenty.”

  That was why I tolerated the old man.

  Outside, we started in the direction of Camden Way, the main street in town, and also where Hello, Gorgeous! was located. Before we got too far, Kyle said, “Why don’t we turn off here and go to the park?”

  “Okay,” I said. The park was a huge open area with picnic tables, a playground, and benches, and on the other side near the woods was the start of some hiking trails. Since it was after dinnertime and the sun was starting to set, not too many people were still out. “Sorry about my dad. I think he was more interested in embarrassing me than grilling you.”

  “Yeah, no biggie,” Kyle said, but judging by how quickly he responded, I didn’t quite believe him. I didn’t think my dad could be that intimidating, but then again I wasn’t a boy meeting him for the first time.

  We walked a little farther in silence, listening to evening sounds—low rumbles of the occasional car in the distance, some kids yelling at a ball game, crickets chirping.

  “Do you have any homework tonight?” Kyle asked.

  “A little math,” I said. “Do you?”

  He shoved his hands in his jeans pocket and said, “Some history, but I finished it at Jonah’s.”

  “Is that what happens at the late shift over at Jonah’s? Homework?” I asked. “I’m impressed.”

  “We did a worksheet together so we could play video games.” He looked at me sideways and said, “His mom made us.”

  “Should have known.” I laughed. “So I guess he practiced with me before he creamed you. What’d you guys play?”

 
“Enemy Warcraft.”

  “And who won?”

  “Jonah,” Kyle said, grinning. “He killed me.”

  We came up to a bench and sat down, looking out at the empty, green lawn while the sun started to dip behind the trees. Kyle stretched his legs out in front of him and rested both arms over the back of the bench. He didn’t try the sly put-your-arm-around-me move; he crooked his arm at the elbow and let it hang casually between us. We sat quietly, and for a moment I felt like an old couple, like those ones you see in rocking chairs on the front porch, sitting for hours and not talking but totally content. It was odd. But nice.

  “So,” he finally said. “I was wondering . . .”

  Until then I’d been pretty relaxed considering I was out with a guy alone at sunset. But suddenly my pulse picked up. I didn’t look at him or say anything.

  “That dance is on Friday, right?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I think it’s this Friday,” I said as if I didn’t know.

  “I bet Kristen has already got Tobias roped into going, huh?”

  “You know my friends so well,” I said. “She hasn’t nailed him down yet, but believe me, she’s working on it. She said if he doesn’t ask her by Wednesday it’s over between them. Of course, Tobias doesn’t know this, but she thinks he should figure it out . . .”

  I stopped, realizing I’d probably said too much. I didn’t want Kyle to think I was like Kristen, that he had to ask me to the dance or we’d break up. Well . . . if we were even an official couple, that is.

  “Wow, that’s kind of harsh,” Kyle said.

  Yep. I’d said too much.

  “She’s mostly, like, joking around about it,” I tried. Ugh. Talking to other people got me in way too much trouble. I couldn’t have him thinking I agreed with Kristen’s plan or that Kristen was a bad person for forcing—er, encouraging Tobias to make his own decision to dance or not to dance.

  “What about you?” he said. “Do you want to go to the dance?”

  “Me? I don’t know.” See? Me and words were not doing well, because of course I wanted to go to the dance. With him. But I didn’t want him to think I was counting the days. I wasn’t (much). I started messing with my hair, braiding the ends because he was asking about the dance! “It’s kind of . . . you know . . . like some societal ritualistic thing . . .” What was I saying? That I did or didn’t want to go?

  “I mean with me,” Kyle said. My heart stopped. I let go of my hair. “Do you want to go to the dance this Friday with me?”

  His brown eyes stared directly into mine, the setting sun glowing on half his face. When I didn’t answer, he looked away, back to where the trail began in the trees. “I wasn’t sure if you were into that kind of thing. If you think it’s dumb or lame—”

  “No!” I said. “No, I don’t think it’s lame. And yes, I do want to go. With you, I mean.” I knew I was blushing and I was totally smiling a big, stupid grin, but it was okay because now he was, too.

  “Cool.” He lowered his arms from the back of the bench. He angled his body slightly toward me and looked at me, my hair, my shoulder. He reached for my hand and leaned in, and in those two seconds I thought of something I hadn’t thought of in all the is-he-my-boyfriend/are-we-going-to-the-dance drama: kissing. I’d never kissed a boy before. I didn’t know how. I leaned away slowly, thinking how I wasn’t ready, that I needed to prepare. I needed to talk to someone about this and . . . all of a sudden—butt, meet ground.

  Yeah. I fell right off the bench and onto the grass.

  “Are you okay?” Kyle asked, quickly standing and coming to help me up.

  “Fine! Totally fine!” I said, politely ignoring his outstretched hand. I stood and dusted the dirt and grass off my butt, which did not hurt in the slightest, nuh-uh, no way. “The sun was . . . and it was shining . . . got in my eyes so I . . .” I was drowning. Totally drowning. I ended with the eloquent, “Yeah.”

  “It’s just, you had a, uh . . .” Kyle motioned to his shoulder, then pointed to mine. “A ladybug. Looks like it’s gone now.” I brushed my shoulder, just in case. “You want to head back?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Had I just blown a moment? I wondered if I should reach out and hold his hand and show him how calm and sophisticated I was. We were going to the dance together, after all. I guess we really were a couple now? Just the thought made me start to blush, so scratch that for now. Instead I said the first thing that popped into my mind. “Is Jonah taking Eve to the dance?”

  “I’m not sure.” He tucked his hands back in his pocket as we took a different route back to my house. I can happily report that it’s the long way back, which meant he didn’t think I was crazy with my bench-flying routine. “Eve’s got that friend in town so he doesn’t really know.”

  “No, yeah, of course,” I said as if the answer didn’t matter.

  “Have you guys talked at all?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Well, yes, we’ve talked. But nothing real. I saw her after school today with that friend. I don’t know . . . it gave me a bad feeling. Like her friend didn’t like me and maybe was convincing Eve to ditch me completely.”

  Just saying it made me feel terrible all over again. Maybe Marla wasn’t being mean, I thought. Maybe she was complimenting my blouse, or . . . “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m sure it’s all going to work out.”

  We exited the park onto a small street with a couple of tiny shops and secluded restaurants. As we passed one of the restaurants, a fancy seafood placed called The Kitchen, I almost slammed into a woman.

  “Oh my gosh,” I said, stopping short before it was a full-on collision.

  “Mickey,” a familiar voice said. When I caught my breath, I realized it was Giancarlo. I took another look at the woman and when she smiled, it hit me. It was Ana—the woman from the salon yesterday. What was she doing out with Giancarlo?

  “Hey!” I said. “What’s up?”

  “Just having a little dinner.” His eyes darted to Kyle, and panic set in. Giancarlo was not a subtle person. At all. Like, ever a day in his life. Especially when I was caught walking around town at almost-dark with a boy I’d been talking to him about.

  Ana eyed me and said, “Your hair is looking exceptionally shiny and healthy.” A knowing grin grew on her lips.

  “Really?” I asked, touching my long hair. “You can tell?”

  “It does look good, Mickey,” Giancarlo agreed. “Did you use that new shine serum we have at the salon?”

  That morning I had tried the cold water trick Ana had recommended for shiny and frizz-free hair. My head almost froze off doing it, but I guess it’d worked.

  “No,” I said to Giancarlo. “I tried something else.”

  “You sure did,” Ana said with a wink.

  This lady knew a thing or two about hair. Which of course meant that I suddenly liked her very much.

  “I’m Ana,” she said to Kyle.

  “Oh, sorry!” I said. “This is my—this is Kyle,” I stumbled.

  “Hey,” he said, raising his hand in a quick wave.

  I swore Giancarlo raised a brow at Kyle, so I quickly said to Ana, “I guess you got your appointment with Giancarlo?”

  “Yes, I’m all set,” Ana said. “Finally, I meet the great Giancarlo and I get to dine with him! I don’t want to be dramatic, but this is a pretty big deal for me.”

  Giancarlo practically levitated in his black-and-white wingtips.

  “Oh, Ana, you’re too much. Go on, tell me more,” he joked, and they both broke into giddy laughs. “Wait, can you see it?” He stretched his hands out from his head. “It’s growing. You’re giving me a big head!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh, too. Even Kyle did. Giancarlo loved being the center of attention. I know most people enjoy praise, but to Giancarlo it was like a
curling iron to straight hair—instant pop.

  “Giancarlo,” I said. “Make sure you give Ana the works.” I felt a little show-offy with Kyle standing there. He was totally getting to see me in action, talking style with stylists. I’m sure I looked very mature. “Give her one of your famous scalp massages, which I’ve only heard are fantastic. Not like I’d actually know or anything, since you’ve never given me one.”

  “That’s a great idea, honey,” Giancarlo said. “Mickey, you haven’t been practicing those massages on this boy’s head, have you?”

  “Um, we gotta go,” I said, stepping away while tugging on Kyle’s arm. I should have known Giancarlo would get me before I ever got him.

  “No salon work outside the salon!” he called as I turned away, and there was a glint in his eyes that said he was really enjoying seeing me frazzled. With Giancarlo I sometimes understood what it was like to have a brother.

  “It was nice seeing you again, Ana,” I called. “See you at the salon!”

  They waved good-bye as Kyle and I practically ran around the corner in the direction of home. Sometimes Giancarlo was worse than my dad. I decided right then and there that I’d keep all boys hidden from GC and Dad forever. Or at least as long as I could.

  CHAPTER 8

  “So, about the dance.”

  “What dance?”

  Which is pretty much what I should have expected Jonah to say. But because he’s my best friend, I let it go.

  “The dance, this Friday,” I clarified as we walked to school the next morning.

  “Oh, right. What about it?”

  “Guess who asked me to go with him last night?”

  “If you’re lucky, Adam Kennemore,” he said.

  For the record, Adam Kennemore is in our grade and he is gross. He’s not a nose picker—he’s an ear picker. You decide which is worse.

  Instead of indulging Jonah with any kind of response, I said, “Kyle asked me. And I said yes. How about that?”

  “That’s cool. He told me last night he was going over to ask you,” Jonah said. “Did he have to meet your parents?”