* * *
"So, he was actually on your bed?" Becca asks with crazy-wide eyes, desperately wanting me to confirm the text I sent her a few hours ago after Bryson left.
I nod as I glance at Holly, who's sitting next to Becca at the foot of my bed. Her eyes are just as wide and hopeful.
"Yep, he was sitting right there." I point just in front of them.
"Oh, my God!" Holly exclaims. "And your mom didn't care?"
I shake my head, grinning from ear to ear. "She was downstairs the whole time."
Becca shakes her head. "That's insane. I couldn't believe it when you texted me that earlier," she says. "This accident is making your mom do all kind of awesome things."
"Yeah, no kidding. Maybe if I have another one she'll let him spend the night," I joke. We all laugh.
"So, how was all the kissing?" Becca asks. Holly leans in next to her, her curious face as still as a picture.
I don't know why I get so embarrassed talking about these things. I mean, it could be worse. I could be revealing my genius to Holly right now. But luckily, Becca already told her Monday at school, and I've talked about it with Holly several times since then. So at least that awkward nightmare is out of the way.
But even though this topic is easy-breezy in comparison, I still find myself smiling bashfully as I glance down at my scrapbook in front of me and start fiddling with the new pictures of me in my cheerleading uniform my mom printed out.
I finally look back up at them slowly. "It was amazing," I say, trying to control my excitement. "I know he's my first, but I can't imagine it could be any better."
And after going into detail about the three kisses Bryson and I shared, Becca walks over and plops down on the green recliner with her face in her phone, while Holly scoots next to me and begins flipping through the scrapbook.
"So what headline should I put for these cheerleading pictures?" I ask them.
"How about 'The Most Horrific Day of My Life,'" Becca suggests, her eyes never straying from her phone.
"You read my mind."
Holly chuckles as she helps me apply pressure to the pictures so they can dry.
I look over at Becca and grin. "Is that Brian?"
"Yep." She peeks around her phone at me. "He asked me out earlier, for Friday night."
"What? Why didn't you tell me?" I reach out to grab her phone as she extends it to me.
"I was about to. I've just been distracted with the whole 'Bryson on your bed' thing and him being your boyfriend now, and all of that."
As I scroll through their texts from earlier today, I see they haven't yet decided where they want to go, and then Becca asking him if Bryson and I could join them. "Of course they can," Brian replied.
I look back at Becca just as she pulls her fingernail out from between her teeth--because she bites her nails when she's nervous--glances up at me and asks, "Y'all wanna come?"
"Yeah, for sure, if that's what you want."
Her expression turns to relief. "Okay, cool. I want Holly to come, too, but--"
"No, no, I'm not gonna ruin y'all's double date," Holly interrupts, focusing hard as she repeatedly presses on every inch of the pictures to secure them to the scrapbook. "When I decide I want a boyfriend again, then I'll come along." She looks up at us and smiles. "Plus, my grandma's staying the weekend with us."
We nod as my mom pops her head in the doorway.
"Dinner's almost ready. Y'all are welcome to stay, girls, there's plenty."
Becca looks up at her. "What is it?"
"Grilled fish and roasted potatoes."
"Whoa, I'm in," Becca confirms, raising her index finger.
My mom laughs and then looks at Holly. "Holly, what about you, sweetie?"
"Yes, ma'am, I'll stay."
As the three of us get ready to head downstairs, I grab my phone to text Bryson about the double date Friday night. And out of nowhere, my mind races back to our first date. More specifically, the accident. I'm fully aware it was a one-time, freak incident that wasn't even our fault but still, it doesn't stop a brief shudder of fear from running through me.
19
Date Night
I've been overwhelmed with two very intense emotions all day long. It's Friday, and I'm super excited about seeing Bryson tonight for our double date. But I'm also extremely nervous because Monday is right around the corner now, which means back to school. But it's not just back to school. It's back to school as a completely different person.
My mom went to Stargate yesterday and had a meeting with all my teachers and the school principal to inform them of my genius. She showed them my 'New Solutions' binder, and she said they were all stunned beyond belief. With her consent, they made copies of the entire thing and started making plans to present it to the school board.
They asked all the obvious questions. "Why did she want to keep it a secret?"? "How did she keep it a secret?"? "Is she a genius in all fields of study, or just math and science?"? "Why would she not want to move on to college or have a career?"
So my mom told them the story from the beginning and according to Becca, Bryson, and Holly, the word has already gotten around school somehow.
Bryson went back yesterday so he wouldn't get too far behind on his schoolwork, and he told me earlier today that people have been bombarding him with questions. Asking if he and I are okay, regarding the accident; asking him if the rumors are true about me being a genius; and even asking if he and I are dating now. And Becca has said people are asking her the exact same questions.
So yeah, I'm terrified to return to school, to say the least. All eyes and attention will be on me. But I guess that's what you get when you hide something this huge for this long. This is no one's fault but mine; I'm fully aware of that. But that awareness isn't helping to quell the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. And sitting here in Carson's room, helping him with his chemistry homework isn't helping me forget about school, either.
As he works on a problem I've set up for him, I stare at his TV screen, far away in thought. I begin to create scenario after scenario in my mind of how Monday morning might play out when I get to school. And I've gotta admit, none of them are making me feel any better. In fact, they're all scaring me to death.
Just as I'm about to think myself into a possible hurling situation, I see Hailey walking by Carson's room. She's stumbling around slowly, her face glued to what appears to be Carson's phone. She obviously has no idea I'm in here.
"Got it!" Carson suddenly exclaims.
I whip my head back around. "Got it?" I ask, just as surprised as him. I grab the notebook and check his answer.
"You got it!" I confirm.
He smiles and nods proudly as I hand the notebook back to him.
"Okay, try this one," I say, pointing to another problem. Then I squint at him. "Hey, where's your phone?"
He shoots an angry glare at me, as if to say, "Where the hell do you think it is?"
"I'll be right back." I hop up and walk over to Hailey's room. The door is closed, which is surely an indication that she's up to no good, so I knock politely.
"Hailey, it's Dori. I have to ask you something."
I can hear her immediately start to scramble around, as if perhaps she's trying to hide the phone. When she finally opens up, she plants herself firmly in the doorway with her hand on the doorknob, definitely not inviting me in for tea and Milk Duds like she normally does.
I stare her down with a smirk, hoping she'll surrender and hand over the phone without me having to say anything at all.
But instead, she just smiles innocently, shrugs her shoulders, and says, "What's up?"
"Well, I'm gonna get dressed in a little while for my date tonight. I was wondering if you wanted to help me choose an outfit."
She sticks her bottom lip out and nods, mildly interested at best. "Yeah, sounds great. Let me know."
I already know for a fact she has the phone, but she doesn't know I know that. And she's not playing this whole t
hing very smartly.
Hailey would trample a litter of wounded puppies to get to my room and help me choose an outfit. Next to shopping at Justice at the mall, it's her absolute favorite thing to do. But she's acting like I'm a total stranger who has no knowledge of this.
She takes a slow, careful step back as she starts to ease the door closed, wanting to get back to her top-secret activity as quickly as possible.
"Oh, and Carson can't find his phone. Have you seen it?" I ask her point blank, knowing she's rarely able to lie to my face.
Her shoulders immediately droop and the blood drains from her face, leaving it pale white. As many times as we've been through this, I'm still not sure whether she's upset because I've caught her and I'm disappointed in her, or simply because she can't finish whatever game she's playing.
With her head now hanging and her shoulders still slumped, she turns around and shuffles toward the bed, dramatically and lifelessly. She retrieves a neatly folded pillowcase from underneath her mattress, and then unfolds it and pulls out the phone. Apparently, she thought I had a team of FBI field agents with me to search her room.
Neither of us says a word as she walks up and hands it to me. I really don't care to know how she blackmailed him or what she has on him, I just want the phone. I give her a disappointed look then head back to Carson's room to continue helping him with his homework.
I help him until five o'clock and then I take a quick shower, brush my teeth, blow-dry and straighten my hair, put on little to no makeup, as usual, and then head to my room to get dressed.
Luckily for me, tonight is more about Becca since it's her first date with Brian. Bryson and I are just kind of tagging along, like Becca and Holly did last weekend for me. So I'm definitely feeling calm and relaxed this time around. Especially now that Bryson and I are officially a couple, we've gotten that first awkward kiss out of the way and have kissed multiple times since then, and we're just more comfortable around each other in general at this point.
So my nerves are calm and I'm feeling pretty fantastic right now. Which is a nice change of pace since it seems like I've been a nervous wreck about everything for the past month or so.
I went to Becca's house yesterday after she got home from school, and we tried on dresses. For the most part, our closets have never been filled with overly-cute, glamorous, trendy clothes like dresses and fancy shoes and things like that. Don't get me wrong, we like shopping and getting cute clothes and all, but we've always been more on the casual side of things. And me even more so than Becca, I think because of my shyness. I typically don't care to attract any more attention to myself than necessary.
But on a recent back-to-school shopping trip, Becca and I decided to branch out a little and each buy a few dresses in an attempt to not look so plain at school this year. Even though we haven't worn them yet, we figured tonight was perfect since we're just going out for pizza and a movie. And thanks to good ol' Louisiana's psychotic and unpredictable temperatures throughout the year, it's still like a thousand degrees outside despite the fact that we're creeping up on mid-October. So weather-wise, dresses make perfect sense.
As I pull the dress from my closet that I decided on yesterday at Becca's, I'm surprisingly more excited than I am reluctant. I've become strangely comfortable around Bryson in an extremely short amount of time, and I can't wait for him to see me in this cute dress. And since the rest of the world seems to disappear every time I'm with him, everyone else is kind of a non-issue.
I walk out of my closet just as Hailey belly-flops on my bed, resting her chin in her hands.
"You like it?" I smile, raising the dress up next to me.
Between the three dresses I bought that day at the mall, I'm going with the fitted, short-sleeved, navy blue floral one from Urban Outfitters. It falls four or five inches above the knee and is covered with small, white and tan flowers; and has a cute, brown, skinny-braided belt. It's still fairly casual as far as dresses go, but at least it's a dress.
Hailey smiles big as she scans the dress from top to bottom. "I love it! Is Becca wearing one, too?" She hops up on her knees.
"Yep, I'll show you a picture." I grab my phone and pull up a picture of the more edgy, red, tiered tank dress from Express Becca is going to wear. Hailey practically falls into a trance as she gazes at it, speechless.
"Wow?awesome," she murmurs. I grin, watching her in the mirror as I slip on my dress.
Then my phone buzzes in her hands. "It's Bryson," she says, handing it to me.
"Be there in about ten minutes, princess. We're meeting at Becca's, right?"
Butterflies creep up in my stomach. I love it when he calls me 'princess.' After texting him back to confirm about meeting at Becca's house, I look up to see Hailey staring at me.
"Is he on his way?" Her ridiculous smile looks sort of like Mom's when we talk about Bryson.
"Yes he is," I tell her. "But we're all gonna meet at Becca's house because her parents want to meet Brian."
Her smile dies down considerably. "I really like Bryson," she says.
"I'm glad you like him." I glance at her and smile. "I like him, too."
Then her previous Mom-like smile slowly resurfaces. "You should marry him."
I laugh as I turn back to the mirror and begin straightening out my dress. "Well, we'll see how that goes."
As funny as her statement was, I have no interest in exploring this topic any further. First of all, I'm only sixteen, and any discussion about marriage is absolutely ridiculous--not to say I haven't thought about it, though. And second, the last thing I need is for Hailey to twist my words or take me seriously, and run and tell Mom and Dad I'm marrying Bryson and running away with him or something. So I quickly change the subject.
"Okay, so now I need shoes and a purse," I say, turning back to her.
She hops off the bed and sprints to the closet as I swirl back to the mirror and adjust my belt.
When I look over at her, she's crouched down, carefully examining all my flip-flops while shooting the occasional glance back at my dress to help her decide.
Then out of the blue, my phone rings. When I look at it, I see it's Becca, which is strange because we always text rather than call.
"Hey," I answer, a touch of surprise in my voice. Then she immediately starts panicking.
"My hair won't freaking?straighten right or something. I can't get it to do anything, and it won't straighten right, and Brian's on his way, and it's just?freakin'--"
"Wait, wait a minute," I cut her off as Hailey holds up my brown, braided-leather flip-flops from Abercrombie. I nod and give her a thumbs up.
"What do you mean it won't straighten right?" I frown as I sit on my bed.
"I don't know, it's just being stupid," she insists. And this time I heard a small break in her voice.
"Are you crying?" My frown deepens in disbelief.
But she just sighs heavily and says, "No, I'm trying to break this damn straightener because I'm pissed off!"
I try not to laugh as she continues to rant and rave. Finally, since there's no other way to get a word in, I cut her off.
"Okay, okay, listen, give me a few minutes. I'm about to head over there and we'll figure this out, okay?"
I move quickly, trying to save a minute or two because I know my parents will stop me before I walk out.
I slip on my flip-flops, grab my cream colored crossbody hobo bag that Hailey picked out and quickly fill it with anything I may need. Then I give Hailey a big kiss on the cheek and head downstairs.
As soon as I hop off the bottom step, my mom and dad both look over at me from the couch.
"You leaving, sweetie?" my mom asks.
Before I can respond, my dad totally rolls his eyes and throws his head back dramatically.
"Aw, geez, that dress is awfully short, isn't it?" he asks, examining my legs.
Confused, I look down where he's looking, wondering if perhaps a pack of wolves attacked me on my way down here and ate off the bottom half
of my dress without me realizing. But nope, the entire dress is still there, dangling just above my knees.
I look back up and glare at him, squinting. "You're kidding, right?"
But of course he's not kidding; I know this without even asking. The question was rhetorical. My dad is absolutely nuts when it comes to this. I could have waddled down here in a ski suit and it would have been "awfully short," just like this dress.
My mom slaps him on the shoulder and sighs. "That dress is perfectly fine. You look amazing, honey."
"Thanks," I say, easing toward the door.
"So, y'all are going to Jake's Pizzeria and then to a movie, right?" my mom asks.
My hand is now on the doorknob as I press my lips together and nod. "Yep."
"And you said Bryson is driving?"
"Yeah, we're all going in his Jeep because Brian has a single-cab Chevy," I say, now slightly opening the door.
Mom nods. "Okay. Be back by eleven."
"We will. The movie starts at 8:15."
As I step outside and start closing the door behind me, Dad yells, "Hey, wasn't there a basketball game tonight? How come Bryson's not playing?"
I quickly stick my head back in. "Coach wanted him to sit out this week because of the accident," I tell him. "Okay, I gotta go. Becca's having a hair crisis. Love y'all!"
"Love you, too! Be careful!" they shout as I close the door. I feel bad about hurrying out like that. I would have talked to them for a few more minutes if it wasn't for the war raging in Becca's bathroom between her and her straightener.
I hit the sidewalk and break out into a slight jog, taking quick little steps as I check my phone. To my relief, I see a text from Becca that says, "Ok, I think I've got it under control now."
I quickly text her back. "K, headed your way now."
As soon as I look up from my phone, I see Bryson pulling into Becca's driveway.
"Need a ride, pretty girl?" he asks as I walk up.
"Maybe," I shrug, a teasing smile on my face.
This is one of the reasons I was trying to hurry to Becca's house. My original plan was to head straight inside, but resisting Bryson once I've seen him would be like asking me not to watch the Kardashians for a week. Ain't gonna happen. And since Becca is no longer in panic-mode--which is about the only way I would resist him--I head for the Jeep rather than the front door.
He steps out with a smile and closes the door, and right away I'm flustered when I see him in a tight-fitting, dark blue Ralph Lauren Polo shirt; light-colored, boot-cut jeans, probably from Hollister or American Eagle because those are his favorites; and his light brown Sperry Topsiders.
"Okay, you can sit in the back, and it's gonna cost you ten bucks a mile," he jokes.
I laugh as I approach him and throw my arms around his neck.
"You look amazing," he says, picking me up and kissing my cheek. Then he kisses my neck just below my ear, giving me chills. I'm now clinging onto him as if it's a life-or-death situation, and if Becca wasn't waiting on me, I don't think I'd be loosening my grip anytime soon.
I pull my head back and smile at him. "Yeah, I decided to throw caution to the wind and wear a dress."
He chuckles. "Well, I'm glad you did, you crazy, reckless woman."
Then we kiss, but only briefly.
I pull away from his lips with my eyes closed, my body weak, and my breath short.
"I have to?go in and?help Becca get ready," I say softly as I slowly open my eyes, struggling to get the words out, as usual. "She's waiting on me."
"Oh, okay. You better hurry then." He kisses me on the cheek one last time and then sets me down gently. "I'll wait out here for Brian."
"Okay." I turn and scurry toward the door.
"See you in a few minutes, sexy," he calls after me.
I whip my head around and smile at him excitedly. "You're bad."
"Never," he jokes, keeping a straight face.
I tear through the door without knocking, like I own the place, and head for the stairs.
"Well, hey, there, Ms. Genius," Mrs. Anna says as I zoom by the kitchen.
"Hey!"
And when I reach the stairs, Mr. Brett glances at me from the couch. "Hey, sweetie."
"Hey, there!"
Then I dart upstairs like I'm being chased by Leatherface--only I'm fully dressed and not screaming bloody murder--hoping Becca hasn't slipped back into crisis-mode and she's now wondering where the hell I'm at.
But I'm extremely relieved when I get to her room and see her calmly inspecting her makeup in the mirror.
She immediately looks at me. "Hey," she smiles, then turns back to the mirror to continue inspecting.
"Everything okay now?" I ask, slightly out of breath now from my gold-medal worthy sprint up the stairs.
"Yep, it's all under control. I think I need a new straightener now, though."
I look at her worriedly, but she waves me off before I can speak. "Don't ask." She rolls her eyes and then heads for her closet.
"Okay?" I reply. Then I step up to the mirror to inspect my makeup and hair one last time, as well.
"Are they here yet?" she yells from the closet.
"Bryson is," I say.
Then I watch in the mirror as she emerges from her closet, holding up her tan BCBG crossbody bag. "You still think I should take this one?"
I can see the uncertainty on her face. She's now unsure of the decision we made yesterday.
I turn to face her. "Yeah, definitely."
Then she begins to freak out a little bit about the purse, her dress, her tan t-strap sandals, her hair?basically everything. So I quickly remind her we sent pictures of our entire outfits to Holly yesterday, and she approved with enthusiasm.
"You look crazy hot in this dress, Becca. Seriously, Brian's gonna flip out," I assure her. And I'm definitely not just saying that to make her feel better. She totally does look hot, and I think she knows it.
Luckily she calms down just as we hear a commotion downstairs, followed by Mr. Brett's voice, although we can't make out any words. We do a quick final check in the mirror, grab our purses, and then head downstairs.
"So, you're a senior at Central Private, Brian?" we hear Mr. Brett ask as we round the corner into the foyer.
"Yes, sir," he responds. Then he and Bryson both shoot a glance at us as we're walking up.
Brian is dressed similarly to Bryson. He's wearing a white, fitted Lacoste polo shirt; dark colored, loose-fitting jeans; and grey Nike tennis shoes. He looks to be an inch or two shorter than Bryson and definitely has less muscle tone, although he's still really fit. His face is slender like Bryson's, but his hair is slightly darker brown and it's spiked up a little in the front.
"And you're a senior at Stargate?" Mr. Brett asks, shaking Bryson's hand next.
"Yes, sir," he replies.
"The basketball star," Mr. Brett grins.
"I don't know about that."
Mr. Brett is feeling out Bryson as well as Brian. He's always pretty much treated me like his own daughter, the same way my dad has done with Becca.
He focuses his attention back on Brian as we walk up. Bryson slowly inches over and stands behind me, interlocking his fingers with mine with each hand, as we both grin while watching Mr. Brett talk to Brian. Not that Mr. Brett is over the top or anything, but he's definitely a little more intense when it comes to boys than my dad is. I remember that from last year when Becca had her first boyfriend.
I glance at Becca and see her inspecting Brian from head to toe with a small grin on her face. But her expression quickly shifts to one of annoyance as she glares up at her dad, who is now asking Brian what kind of grades he gets, what colleges he's thinking about, what his hobbies are, and a plethora of other mortifying things like that.
Then Mrs. Anna walks in from the kitchen, interrupting their conversation. "Here are the movie tickets," she says, handing them to us.
We're going to see 'Zone of the Dead,' which is the absolute best slasher film out righ
t now. Since the tickets are usually sold out by the weekend, Mrs. Anna stopped by the movie theater in Baton Rouge yesterday evening to get them for us.
As Bryson and Brian retrieve money from their wallets to pay her, Mr. Brett turns back to Brian to pick up where he left off. But Becca immediately shuts him down.
"Okay, it's time for us to go. We're gonna miss the movie," she says gently, but firmly. She's staying calm due to Brian's presence. Typically, she would have yelled at Mr. Brett and then stormed out, physically knocking him out of her path if necessary. No lie, I've seen it.
"Okay, okay," Mr. Brett says, probably a bit fearful now. "Y'all have a good time, and be careful."
"Be back by eleven," Mrs. Anna reminds Becca, raising her eyebrows.
"We will."
"Well, it was really nice meeting y'all," Brian says politely.
Bryson nods in agreement. "Yeah, it was good to meet y'all," he says. Then we finally head out.
Bryson and I walk a few steps ahead as Becca closes the door, and I can hear Brian telling her how great she looks.
"Thanks," she giggles.
Then we slow down and turn around for them to catch up.
"So, y'all ready for pizza?" Bryson asks.
We all respond simultaneously. "Definitely!"
"I'm starving," Brian says.
Becca looks at him and nods. "Jake's is for sure the best."
"Yep," I add. "Becca and I have gone there since we were kids."
"Me, too," Bryson and Brian both reply.
Jake's Pizzeria is an awesome little family-owned restaurant which has been open for years here in Central. It has a massive buffet of any kind of pizza you can think of. There's also pasta, spaghetti, lasagna, salad, and desserts; but we usually just march in there and tear up the pizza. It's the best around, without question.
When we get to the Jeep, Bryson and Brian open the passenger doors for us.
"So, you said you might buy this from your uncle?" Brian asks, looking at Bryson.
"Yep, I'm thinking about it."
"I think you should, this thing is awesome."
"Thanks, man. Yeah, I'm definitely leaning towards getting it."
As they walk around to the other side, I look back at Becca and we both smile because they seem to be getting along.