* * *
Once we're on the road, Bryson peeks over at me and grins, then grabs my hand from my lap and holds it tight. As I look back at him and smile, I notice out the corner of my eye how close Becca and Brian are sitting. They're also holding hands, talking quietly to each other.
Bryson releases my hand. "Radio?" he asks, reaching to turn it on.
"Yeah." I look back at Becca and Brian. "Rock?"
Becca and I listen to absolutely every kind of music there is. New and old-school rock, pop, rap, hip-hop, country, alternative, punk, heavy metal?you name it, we love it. But rock is pretty much our favorite, and I figure the guys would probably prefer that, too.
"Rock sounds good to me," Brian smiles, dragging his gaze away from Becca.
"Sweet."
Then, as I'm scanning through the stations, something magical happens. Something so beautiful, so glorious, I can hardly even put it into words?Taylor Swift.
Just to fill you in, Becca and I are obsessed with Taylor Swift. Next to eating, dancing around and singing along with a Taylor Swift song is our absolute favorite thing to do. We literally can't help ourselves and trust me, we don't care where we're at. If we were Navy Seals behind enemy lines, covertly trying to rescue one of our own, we'd surely be killed if we caught wind of a Taylor Swift song. We would be kicked out of church, we would lose the quiet game or a staring contest, we would be told to sit down and shut the hell up in a movie theater, or at a wedding, or a graduation, or a fancy restaurant, or whatever. You get the picture.
So needless to say, when I come across her hit single "Twenty-two," I immediately raise the volume and Becca and I go nuts. We throw our heads back, dancing and singing along in unison. We wave our hands around obnoxiously, with absolutely no respect or loyalty to anyone but Taylor Swift. Luckily, though, Bryson and Brian find it hilarious, and they laugh hysterically as we continue, all the way to the end.
We finish strong, belting out the last verse of the song with our chins raised and our eyes closed. Then Bryson and Brian start clapping and cheering, as if they're at one of her concerts. They wail away with silly expressions on their faces, begging for autographs.
So laughing, Becca and I each take a bow and then proceed to sign fake autographs for our two biggest fans, Bryson and Brian. Then we finally pull up to Jake's. And when we walk in and smell the pizza, we quickly forget all about Taylor Swift.
I lean close to Becca in the buffet line. "Does Brian know how much we eat?" I whisper, hoping we don't have to eat just one piece of pizza and then pretend we're full.
"Yep, I told him," she says.
"Cool." We both grin with satisfaction then begin loading our plates with pepperoni and black olive slices.
The four of us discuss different topics as we sit in our booth, putting away slice after slice like we haven't eaten in a week.
We talk about how much we love the pizza and how every other kind of pizza sucks compared to Jake's. We reflect on the Taylor Swift concert that took place in the Jeep a few minutes ago and laugh hysterically all over again. Then we go on to discuss other topics like school, my genius, sports, cheerleading, Holly, Bryson's Camaro, and the accident.
And when Bryson randomly expresses how excited he is to see 'Zone of the Dead,' we suddenly realize how late it is, so we rush out and head to the theater.
Now, believe me, no one wanted to see this movie more than me. It's supposed to be fantastic from beginning to end. But I'm having a bit of trouble focusing on the screen.
No more than twenty or thirty minutes in, I find myself curled up next to Bryson with my head on his shoulder, pretending to be way more terrified than I really am. So obviously, the movie is secondary at the moment. When I glance at Becca as I'm grabbing my Coke, I see her pulling the same act with Brian. We'll probably both have trouble describing the movie when it's over.
Just as I'm thinking that, however, the intensity and suspense picks up drastically, grabbing my attention until the very end. On the way home, it's absolutely all the four of us can talk about.
As we pull in front of Becca's house, Bryson stops on the road at Becca and Brian's request so they can jump out and get into Brian's truck. Then Bryson pulls up a little and parks on the side of the road. As soon as he turns the Jeep off, we lean toward one another and start making out.
I go crazy inside when I feel his tongue against mine. As we continue to kiss, he pulls away slightly a couple times, just long enough for us to catch our breaths, and then quickly moves back in. I'm shaking all over at this point, now gripping a fistful of his hair with both hands, squeezing and clinging myself to him as tightly as I can.
Just when I think this is without a doubt the most heated, passionate kiss we've shared so far, he effortlessly picks me up and then aggressively pulls me to him and sets me on his lap, turning me on immensely.
I'm now cradled in his arms as we lock lips again, which is a good thing since my entire body has gone numb. I'm feeling all the usual sensations: the chills, the tingles, the trembles, the goose bumps--but there's an unfamiliar feeling present, also. A distinct, intense feeling of excitement is running throughout my body which I don't recall having in the past. I'm completely overwhelmed with passion, and I start to wish we were alone. Like really alone. But it's probably a good thing we're not.
He finally pulls away, leaving me unable to move, speak, or even think. I just lay there in his arms with my eyes closed, taking deep breaths, trying to regain my normal state of mind.
When I finally do somewhat, he looks down at me with a grin and says, "My mom wants to meet you. What are you doing tomorrow?"
Even though I've yet to regain full consciousness, I choose to speak anyway. "You, hopefully," I mumble, looking at him through hazy eyes. And right away, I realize what I said.
"Whoa!" Bryson's eyes widen as he throws his head back. "I've got to clear my calendar for tomorrow." He pretends to look for his phone as I giggle with embarrassment.
"Umm?hopefully I'm seeing you tomorrow," I clarify.
"Oh. Well, that'll work, too. I guess." He jokingly rolls his eyes.
I slowly stop laughing. "I'd love to meet your mom tomorrow. And Humphrey and Bogart."
"Yeah," he nods. "I mean, they weigh more than you so they might knock you over, but that means they like you."
As we chuckle, we suddenly hear a door shut. I peek over Bryson's shoulder and see Becca standing outside Brian's truck, talking to him through the window.
"It's probably almost eleven," I say, as Bryson sets me back in the passenger seat. I lean over to give him one last kiss. "See you tomorrow?"
"Definitely," he grins.
I hop out and throw my purse strap over my shoulder.
"Hey," Bryson says as I turn back to face him. "I had a blast tonight, princess."
"Me too," I smile. "And thanks for everything." I blow him a kiss as he starts the Jeep. "Be careful."
As he and Brian drive off, they yell to each other, being goofy and loud--very loud.
"Catch you later, Brian! Good meeting you, my friend!" Bryson hollers, sticking his head out the window.
"You too, buddy! The pleasure was all mine!" Brian replies.
Becca and I laugh as we head to the door. Because our cheeks are all rosy from the lip action, we rush up to Becca's room once we're in the house to avoid Mrs. Anna and Mr. Brett. Once we're up there, I text my mom and dad to let them know I'm back before Becca and I start exchanging stories. She goes on and on about how great a kisser Brian is compared to her first boyfriend, and how much she really likes him. I couldn't be happier for her.
Tonight was a lot of fun, and it was just what I needed to temporarily forget about my dreaded return to school on Monday.
20
First Meeting
"How about some Zeppelin?" Bryson grins, holding up one of their albums.
As I watch him lean forward and insert it into the CD player, I wonder how I can possibly be upset right now. I mean, let's take a minut
e to review my current situation.
First of all, I finally have my first amazing boyfriend. It doesn't bother him one bit that I'm a genius, and he's done nothing but cater to me and treat me like a queen up to this point--not to mention he's absolutely gorgeous. Second, Becca has found someone who she seems to really like, and I'm super-excited for her. We all went on an incredible date last night, at the end of which Bryson and I locked lips for about seven of the best minutes of my life so far. And now, I'm cruising in his Jeep with the top down on this beautiful sunny day, watching the wind blow his bangs around above his sunglasses as we rock out to Led Zeppelin. I seriously should be the happiest person in the world right now.
But the truth is I'm miserable and exhausted. As I crawled into bed last night, the thought of returning to school on Monday infected my brain, and I couldn't shake it loose. I laid there most of the night thinking about it, worrying myself to death. I ended up scaring myself so much I actually considered going through with a few disturbing solutions I dreamed up out of desperation.
1. Rather than return to Stargate, I could go to college. This way, I'd be surrounded by a whole new batch of people who wouldn't know my secret, and I could start this whole thing over again. But I shut down that idea right away, because I quickly realized it would be a whole new life--without Becca. Not an option.
2. Next, I thought, Maybe I can just stay home. It's not like I need high school. I could try to convince my mom to let me stay in my room for the next two years and just avoid everyone who knows my secret. But I eventually concluded that that might not be a very healthy way to live.
3. So, then I thought, Perhaps I can run away?I would convince Becca to join me, and we would pack our bags, stuff all our big, fluffy pillows under our arms, and then hit the pavement. We'd simply leave this rotten town behind. But then I realized my mom would have the CIA and the Secret Service join forces to track us down before we got to the Taco Bell around the corner. So that's out.
4. And lastly, I figured, Why not become a nun? Yes, indeed, I could join a convent. My family would know I was safe and sound, and hopefully they would respect my pure decision. This one sounded like a winner. As hard as I tried, I couldn't think of any real way to shoot it down, aside from the fact that I'm not overly religious. I could work on that, though. The idea put my mind at ease, and allowed me to finally fall asleep.
But as I was eating my Cinnamon Toast Crunch this morning, I realized I would never be able to watch the Kardashians again if I joined the convent. I was beyond pissed. I put my bowl in the sink and then stomped upstairs, mumbling to myself, knowing I was all out of ideas. I would have to go to school on Monday, which I knew all along, but it's funny how your mind can run away with you sometimes. So, as ridiculous as it sounds, I was angry this morning at all my failed, fake contingency plans. Silly, I know.
As we turn onto Blackwater Road, I'm now extremely nervous about meeting Bryson's mom. I drape my ponytail over my shoulder as I look down at my outfit, hoping his mom will approve of my navy-colored khaki shorts and fitted white top. I asked Bryson earlier if it was okay for me to wear shorts and he was like, "Yeah, absolutely. Why wouldn't it be okay?"
But I've never done this before. The last thing I want to do is make a bad first impression with his mom. And even though Bryson has repeatedly insisted that everything will be great, I'm just in a worrying mood right now, and I can't help but imagine the worst.
As I'm staring at my shorts, daydreaming about how my life is falling apart--that's dramatic, I know--I hear the music suddenly fade away. Then I look up at Bryson just as he's releasing the volume knob.
"Everything okay?" he asks, looking back and forth between me and the road.
I adjust my sunglasses and nod. "Yeah," I respond. I must not have been all that convincing, though.
"Look, don't be nervous about meeting my mom, seriously. Like I said, she already loves you just from what I've told her about you." He glances at me and smiles, then turns his attention back to the curvy road. "And aside from that, she's the easiest person in the world to get along with."
Slightly relieved, I look back down at my shorts and continue nervously fiddling with the hem.
"Is that all that's bothering you?" he asks, probably because of my continued silence.
I look at him and shrug. "Just?the whole going back to school thing."
He nods, then reaches over and grabs my hand. "I know you're scared," he says. "But you shouldn't be, because you're not gonna be alone. Becca and I will be there with you."
A warm feeling runs through me as he raises my hand to his lips to kiss it. I guess in the midst of all the emotion, I kind of did forget I wasn't alone in this.
"Thanks, that really helps a lot," I tell him.
"Good." He looks back to the road, pauses for a few seconds, then changes the subject. "I'm on chapter eleven of your book, by the way."
I instantly perk up with excitement. "You enjoying it?"
"That book is awesome," he says, giving an emphatic nod.
"Yay!" I shriek. "I knew you would like this series."
"Hell yeah, it's bad ass. And scary as Hell, too!" His eyes bulge with horror as he glances at me.
"You haven't gotten to the scary parts yet, my dear," I inform him, eerily tapping my fingers together in front of my face.
He cringes. "Crap. I was hiding under my covers last night, so I guess by next week I'll be sleeping with the lights on," he jokes, with that hilarious mock serious expression on his face.
I laugh. "Definitely let me know when that happens so I can make fun of you."
"Forget about it. That's gonna be my sad little secret."
I break into laughter once again as we come around a sharp curve and begin to slow down. As the wall of trees on the left side of the road finally comes to an end, I see Bryson's house as we approach the long gravel driveway.
"Wow, this is awesome?" I lean forward, curiously analyzing everything as we turn in.
Bryson did tell me all about his house when we first started talking, but back then I was so busy trying to comprehend why he was talking to me in the first place--not to mention I was a nervous wreck--sometimes I couldn't fully process what he was telling me. But I don't think I would have pictured this anyway.
The house is a slightly older one-story, but it's a pretty decent size. And it's sitting right smack in the middle of a five-acre lot, which I love. I seriously wish I lived here.
There are three massive pine trees, one in the front yard and two in the back. On the left side facing the house, there's a long, chain-link fence running the length of the property with woods on the other side, but not heavy woods. In fact, it gets more and more cleared the further back it goes, and I can barely see a driveway which must lead to a house that's invisible from here.
On the right side of the house, there's another chain-link fence which runs perfectly parallel and right next to the gravel driveway, which is lined with small crepe myrtle trees on both sides. And at the very back of the property, the two fences intersect with what looks to be a barbed-wire fence.
Bryson gets a kick out of my amazement. "So do you like the place or something?" he chuckles.
"Yeah?this is so cool."
Then I notice the basketball goal the closer we get. "Basketball goal!" I say excitedly. And when we pull up on the slab next to the house, I spot a trampoline around the back. "Trampoline!" I say even louder, with even more excitement.
Bryson continues to laugh as he shifts into park and cuts off the engine.
"Didn't I tell you about the trampoline?" he asks.
Probably, I think to myself.
"I don't think so," I reply, unbuckling my seatbelt.
We both take off our sunglasses and put them in the center console, and then I hop out and check my hair in the side-view mirror to make sure it's not a mess.
"Come on, you big nerd. You look amazing," Bryson teases.
"Whatever," I smile. "I'm your favorite nerd in
the whole world."
I get increasingly nervous the closer we get to the back door. Until out of nowhere, two of the absolute largest dogs I've ever seen in my life emerge from around the other side of the house, completely redirecting my attention. I can only assume they're the renowned Humphrey and Bogart.
Even though Bryson has repeatedly told me how sweet they are, I find myself suddenly intimidated. They both look like they outweigh me by at least a hundred pounds, and their chests are about as wide as Bryson's. And they're sprinting straight toward us.
I side-step behind Bryson as they come galloping up, plowing into him like a couple of linebackers rushing a quarterback. But luckily, Bryson is strong enough to stand his ground as he absorbs the impact, then bends over to hug and pet them.
"Hey there, fellas; how y'all doin'?" he says, rubbing their cheeks.
They finally direct their attention to me. Even though I'm not special enough to get tackled yet, they still walk right up to me and start licking me and giving me all kind of attention as if I'm not a perfect stranger. It's definitely a start.
I don't have to lean over as much since their heads practically come up to my chest, but I lean down pretty far so I can hug them more effectively.
"Hey, guys, how are y'all?" The baby talk makes their ears perk up and lick me even more as I raise my chin and giggle, causing Bryson to laugh, too.
"The blue collar is Humphrey and the black one is Bogart," Bryson informs me, pointing to each of them.
I smile, continuing to squeeze them tightly around their necks. "I love them," I say. Then the back door opens and Bryson's mom walks out.
"Dori, hey there, sweetie!" She walks toward me with a massive smile and her arms outstretched.
I look at her as I straighten up, and she's not at all what I had envisioned her to be. She's only a couple inches taller than me--which is pretty short since I'm only five-foot-two; she's not quite as slender as my mom--particularly in the face; she has dark brown, almost black, shoulder-length hair; and she looks to be a few years older than my parents.
"Hey," I smile, reaching out to hug her as she approaches.
She squeezes me tightly while patting the back of my head. "I've heard so much about you, Dori. And I'm so sorry about the accident. Are you doing okay?" I can see the worry in her eyes as she pulls back and looks at me, leaving her hands on my arms.
"Yes, ma'am, I'm doing great," I say, trying to put her mind at ease.
"Well, that's good. I was so worried about you that night." She cups my chin with her hand and right away, I realize Bryson was right. She does love me already, and I couldn't be more relieved.
She briefly turns to Bryson and gives him a hug and kiss on the cheek, and then looks back at me.
"Well, Dori, I hope you're hungry. I made spaghetti and meatballs for lunch," she tells me with a smile. "Bryson said that was one of your favorite meals."
"Yes! It is definitely one of my favorites, thank you."
"Well, good." She puts her arm around me and leads me to the door. "You are just the most precious thing I've ever seen," she insists, examining me from head to toe.
I smile bashfully. "Thank you."
When we walk into the house, the overwhelming scent of spaghetti and meatballs instantly makes my mouth water. Then right away, I notice the unique layout of the house. Straight ahead is the kitchen, and immediately to the right there's a long hallway which leads to the living room. The two rooms appear to be separated by a huge office/game room, because I can see a desk and one end of a pool table through the slightly-opened door.
As we make our way to the kitchen, Humphrey and Bogart nearly run Ms. Brenda clean over as they zoom past us, making their way to the stove where the spaghetti sauce sits. Ms. Brenda regains her balance and shoves them out of the way with her knee. "No, no, this food isn't for y'all," she tells them.
As Bryson and I walk over to the bar, still laughing at Humphrey and Bogart's attempts to swipe our lunch, I notice my book lying open on the kitchen table. Bryson sees me looking at it and points to his mom.
"Are you enjoying the book, Ms. Brenda?" I ask, surprised she's reading it.
"Yes, I am. Oh, my goodness?" She looks over her shoulder at me with a horrified expression. Then she puts the lid back on the pot and walks over to us.
"I am just?so impressed," she says, then pauses. I can tell she's not just talking about my book, but about my genius in general. I can see the curiosity in her eyes, so I casually kick off the conversation like it's no big deal. I want her to know I don't mind discussing it. And the conversation continues on even after we've served up and are sitting around the table eating.
"So, you're pretty nervous about going back to school then, huh?" Ms. Brenda asks, sipping her tea and looking at me.
Before I can respond, Bryson quickly looks at her. "Mom?" he says, shaking his head, letting her know it's a sore subject.
Ms. Brenda looks back at me and extends her hand in my direction. "Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"No, no, it's no big deal, seriously," I say, twirling my pasta on my fork. "I'm a little nervous, but I'm feeling a lot better about it than I was. I really don't think it's gonna be that bad," I lie. I am feeling a little better about everything, that part was true. But it's still going to be horrific. However, I don't want to make Ms. Brenda feel any worse than she already does.
"Yeah, it's all gonna be fine," she grins.
"The first day is gonna be the toughest, but after that it shouldn't be too bad," Bryson adds.
We continue talking about my genius for a while. In fact, I'm well into my third plate of spaghetti now, and I'm showing Ms. Brenda a few of my 'calculator tricks,' at Bryson's request. Her eyes are wide with disbelief as she glances at me then back to the calculator.
"Wow," she says, stunned. She seriously looks like she's just seen a UFO. I see her eyes roam over every inch of that calculator, inspecting it as if perhaps it's rigged. Bryson and I grin as we watch her.
"Well, now you have someone to help you with calculus!" She looks at Bryson, eyebrows raised.
He immediately rolls his eyes. "Please, I know more about calculus than she does," he says, then stuffs an oversized forkful of spaghetti into his mouth.
Ms. Brenda and I both laugh.
"Whatever," I retort. Then I raise my hands, trying to look all scary and intimidating. I even get a bit loud. "Bring it on, tough guy!"
His eyes become wide, never leaving his plate, as he responds with great attitude. "Y'all are lucky I'm not in a calculus kind of mood, that's all I have to say."
After he says that, the three of us laugh so loud that Bogart--who hasn't left my side since I met him--jumps up from his nap and puts his face in mine, I guess to make sure I'm okay. And as I'm hugging him and pressing my face to his, Humphrey comes moseying around the bar to see what all the commotion is about, as well.
"It's okay, buddy," I say to Bogart, and then to Humphrey as he comes walking up.
"Looks like you've been replaced, Bryson. They have a new best friend," Ms. Brenda says, her laughter fading.
"We'll see about that." Bryson pushes his chair back from the table and begins to repeatedly call their names, trying to get them to come to him. But the more he calls, waving his hands at them and talking in that high-pitched, goofy voice dogs seem to love, the closer they scoot to me.
This goes on for a good thirty or forty seconds as Ms. Brenda and I struggle to keep a straight face. Then in a last-ditch effort, Bryson pulls his plate to the edge of the table to entice them, and Humphrey ends up wandering over reluctantly. But Bogart doesn't budge. Too funny.
After we put our dishes away, Bryson tells the "traitors"--Humphrey and Bogart--to go lay down and think about what they've done, and then he takes me on a tour of the rest of the house. He even shows me his room, and I was surprised to see it's just as big as mine. And just before we walk back out into the hallway, he peeks out the door then turns around, swoops me up, and starts ki
ssing me.
"I've been wanting to do that all day," he grins after setting me back down.
Now I have to walk back out there past his mom on wobbly legs and just hope she doesn't notice.
"Thanks a lot." I thump him playfully on the back as I follow him out.
Then we head outside, followed by Humphrey and Bogart, of course.
"Wanna play some basketball?" Bryson asks, retrieving the ball from the other side of the garage.
"I was just about to ask you that," I smile.
"Sweet. You can practice dribbling."
He tosses the ball to me and then jogs over to the Jeep to move it away from the basketball goal. While he does that, I take the opportunity to stretch. I put the ball down beside me, spread my feet apart, and touch my palms to the concrete, because I don't want to pull a hamstring, obviously. Not because I want Bryson to see how flexible I am.
"You all stretched out?" he asks as he walks back up, smiling broadly.
I glance at him upside down, then stand back upright, shrug, and push out my bottom lip. "Yeah, I'm feeling pretty good." I grin suggestively.
He rushes up and bear hugs me, kissing me on my neck as I giggle.
"Okay, let's see what you got, superstar," he says, backing away from me and clapping.
I lean over to pick up the ball. "Okay, okay, prepare to be amazed. And give me some space, I need room to shine," I announce smugly, even though I know I'm about to suck on an epic level. Sure enough, just like last weekend at the car show, I fail repeatedly as I try to dribble between my legs and walk at the same time. I'm kicking my feet up well past my chest every time just to get the ball to the other side, and seventy percent of the time I'm not even catching it. I'm retrieving the ball out of the bushes alongside the house, I'm chasing it down the driveway and into the garage; I even managed to kick it behind me once. And since the ball is supposed to be dribbled under my leg, I really have no idea how I pulled that off. I guess I'm a more talented screw-up than I'd originally thought when it comes to athletics.
But the good news is that Bryson is definitely enjoying the show. He's now doubled over with his hands on his knees, laughing hysterically.
I finally decide to stop as I emerge from the bushes yet again with the ball in my hands. Then I look at him, trying my best to keep a straight face. When he finally stops laughing long enough to straighten up and look at me, I narrow my eyes at him and go, "Something has to be wrong with the ball." Then I toss it to him and cross my arms under my chest with mock attitude. And when he starts dribbling between his legs to prove me wrong, I struggle even more to keep a straight face.
"Okay, well, this part of the concrete must not be level or something," I insist, needing something else to blame now.
"You think so? I don't know?maybe," he says as he circles around and heads straight for me.
"Let's see?nope, the concrete seems to be just fine," he concludes, passing right by me, effortlessly dribbling between his legs as he walks.
Then he stops and turns to look at me. "Yeah, everything seems to be fine." He tosses the ball back to me with a sarcastic grin.
"Whatever." I catch the ball and squint at him. "I'm gonna get Becca to beat you up."
"Bring it on, I'll take you both out," he threatens. "Where is Becca, by the way?"
"She's at home. Holly came over and they're just watching movies since Brian's at work."
As Bryson nods, I slap the ball with fury. "How about some one-on-one?" I smirk, knowing full well this will be just as disastrous as the whole dribbling thing. But believe it or not, I was just as cocky. I even let him take the ball out first.
"Alright, alright. Let's see what you got, big shot." I taunt him, hopping around with my feet spread apart, waving my hand in his face, and pretty much doing everything other than calling him names and talking about his mama.
But it doesn't appear to be working at all. He just holds the ball over his head with one hand as he glares down at me, as if I'm a mild annoyance at best. Like I'm a fly buzzing around him which he's about to crush.
"This'll be like taking candy from a baby," he says, his expression fierce.
The trash-talking goes on for at least another minute or so. We literally start to yell back and forth like a couple of angry second-graders on the playground.
Then all of a sudden, he dribbles around me quickly, and having no reasonable clue how to stop him, I decide to cheat. I grab his shoulders and hop on his back, but much like my intimidation attempts, it has absolutely no effect on him whatsoever. He just continues dribbling to the goal, and then lays the ball in the basket like I'm not even there.
"And Bryson wins the game, folks!" he hollers, as if he's commentating the play. "Bryson Turner scores the last two points, what a blowout!" He raises his hands in triumph as I laugh, still attached to him like a leech.
He brings his hands back down and looks around.
"Dori? Where are you?" He pretends to look around worriedly. So I choke him.
"Oh, there you are!" He grabs me and pulls me around, cradles me in his arms, and then sprints to the trampoline and tosses me on it. I'm now laughing uncontrollably as he hops on, too.
We jump for a while--well, he did most of the jumping while I mostly got bounced around--then he takes me across the yard to the shed--which is completely re-done and extremely nice--to show me his weights. I'm really impressed when I see them. He has a lot of good machines and free weights he said he got really cheap from a gym that closed down a couple of years ago. After playing around on them a little bit, and then making out for a few minutes, we decide to head back to the house.
I hop on his back and kiss him on the cheek as he walks.
Today was a nice break from reality, and I don't want it to end. I want to stay. Leaving means being away from Bryson, and it also means back to worrying about school on Monday. But here, I don't have to face either of those issues. Even though it's only my first visit, it already feels like a second home.
21
School
Okay, so remember how I was all scared and nervous about going back to school on Monday? Well, surprisingly, I'm feeling pretty good about it at the moment. I'm even sort of looking forward to it, as ridiculous as that might sound.
Becca, Brian, and Bryson came over this morning, and along with Carson, we had a horror movie marathon in the living room all day. As if that wasn't awesome enough, my mom made all my favorite foods, which were pretty much everyone else's favorite foods, too. We had homemade pizza, lasagna pasta, chips and dip, and even a homemade, vanilla white-icing cake. She was clearly trying to make me feel better about going to school tomorrow, and it was probably also a little 'thank you' for revealing my genius.
But even though I'm feeling great about everything as I sit here at the kitchen table, choking down my second plate of lasagna pasta with Becca--who just started on her third plate--I'm extremely suspicious of this feeling. I'm forcing myself to enjoy it, because I don't expect it to last.
And sure enough, the next morning I'm right back to being a nervous wreck. I'm feeling so sick to my stomach, in fact, that I can barely function. I don't even eat breakfast; I just run downstairs, yell out, "Bye, love y'all!" to my parents, and then head out the door as quickly as possible to avoid conversation. The last thing I want to do right now is talk about my feelings.
Luckily, Becca is able to somewhat calm me down on the way to school. But as we start to slow down and the school comes into view around the tree line, my heart starts pounding and my stomach starts turning. Some pretty interesting things have happened to me since I've last set foot on this campus and seen these people. Three interesting things, to be exact:
1. I was in a pretty serious car accident.
2. I'm dating Bryson now.
3. I've become a genius overnight.
If I had to guess, that last one will probably be front and center on people's minds. Except maybe for Summer, Alison, and Alex, and some of the other cheerleaders w
ho might be more interested in the fact that I'm now dating Bryson. And when I say 'interested,' I mean completely enraged. As far as I'm aware, the whole reason Summer hates me in the first place is because of the flirty relationship I've had with Bryson since the beginning of the year. I can't imagine our new boyfriend/girlfriend status is going to improve the situation. So, on top of everything, I'm extremely fearful of Summer coming after me again, probably even harder than before. Needless to say, I'll be glued to Becca's side all day long.
As we pull in, I immediately notice Bryson's Jeep in the parking lot. He's standing next to it talking to Brad and Trent, two of his buddies on the basketball team. Then I notice Summer and Alison--who, yes, is still sporting that big, black walking cast on her foot I so lovingly bestowed upon her last month--standing just outside the gym door, which is where Mrs. Anna usually drops us off. Apparently, Becca notices the same thing.
"Pull in right here," she tells Mrs. Anna, pointing to the entrance of the student lot as we approach it. I breathe a quiet sigh of relief as we pull in and approach Bryson's Jeep. Even though Becca's with me, Summer is definitely not the first person I want to see this morning. Well, she's not the first person I want to see me, actually.
As soon as we hop out the backseat, Bryson peers around Trent's head and smiles at me, causing Trent and Brad to turn and look. I don't really know Trent and Brad. I've never actually talked to them other than half-heartedly smiling and waving at them a couple times since Bryson and I have been talking. But right now, they're looking at me as if they know me awfully well, and I see an instant mixture of emotions in their eyes. I see concern (because of the accident), curiosity (because of my genius), and respect (because I'm now dating Bryson). Not that they were ever blatantly disrespectful or anything, but they used to always check out Becca and me and smile at us while bumping elbows with each other and talking about us?just totally typical guy stuff. But now they're looking at me with a completely different perspective. As if I'm absolutely off-limits, even to all the harmless head-to-toe inspections from afar. And they glance at Becca with the same expression.
Bryson walks up to me with a nervous smile. I can tell he's worried about me.
"Hey, there," he says, giving me a quick hug and peck on the cheek, due to Stargate's strict rules prohibiting PDA. But even a quick peck on the cheek from him manages to send chills down my spine.
"Hey," I reply, hugging him back. He flashes a smile in Becca's direction.
"Hey, Becca."
"Hey," she smiles.
Then I notice Brad and Trent step toward me. As soon as I look at them, they both grin.
"Hey, Dori, you feeling alright?" Brad asks. Concern is evident on both their faces as they look at me. So, like I've done with pretty much everyone else who's asked me this question so far, I raise my eyebrows high and nod reassuringly.
"Yeah, I'm doing great; thanks for asking."
Brad grins again.
"And now it's time to hit the books, huh?" Trent says.
I nod, but before I can respond, Brad says, "Or time to pretend to hit the books."
He's obviously referring to my genius, and we all laugh at the remark. Brad is definitely the funnier of the two, kind of like Bryson, while Trent is more polite and reserved.
"Story of my life," I reply.
Then as we're laughing, we suddenly hear a car door shut. We all turn to look and see Holly a few parking spaces down, extending her key fob to lock her car.
"We're gonna head inside," Brad says, nodding toward the gym. He and Trent bump fists with Bryson.
"Take care of yourself, Dori." Brad smiles at me. "We need you at the games."
I return the smile. "I will."
As I watch them walk off, no longer obstructing my view as they approach the gym doors, I suddenly find myself staring directly into Summer's eyes?and, of course, she's staring right back into mine.
My stomach drops as I look down at the ground, horrified.
I quickly look up at Holly and smile at her nonchalantly as she walks up to meet us. But Holly's not on my mind at all. I know Summer's watching me like a hawk right now, and I'm desperately trying to make it look as though I'm not aware of that fact. Or aware of her presence at all, for that matter.
"Hey there, Dori," Holly says, giddy as usual, stretching her arms out to hug me.
I try my best to return the enthusiasm, but I'm struggling. As I hug her, all I can think about is what is Summer thinking about me hugging Holly? As curious as I am, I'm far too afraid to peek back at those double doors as Holly hugs Becca and Bryson.
I try not to be obvious as I slowly inch over to my left until I'm standing in front of Bryson, blocking Summer's view of me if she's still looking. It makes me feel a lot more comfortable.
But when Bryson asks me if I'm ready to go in, I have a slight moment of panic, and it doesn't go unnoticed.
Becca wraps her arm around my shoulder. "It's gonna be okay, Dor?seriously."
I feel like such a baby. People in the world have much bigger problems than this, but that doesn't change the reality of my situation. If I could change the fact that I'm overly shy, making me absolutely terrified to walk in that school and face all the inevitable attention I'm going to receive, I would. If I could change the fact that I'm scared to death of Summer, I would. But I can't, no matter how hard I try. I just have to find a way to deal with it. And when we hear the faint ringing of the first bell coming from inside the school, that's exactly what I do. I pull myself together and deal with it. And to my relief, when I look up toward the gym doors, Summer and Alison are no longer there.
We head toward the cafeteria anyway, since it's a quicker path to the main hall. Becca is at my left, Bryson is at my right, and Holly is on the other side of him. I feel a little silly the closer we get to the caf; it's as if I've assembled a small army for protection.
But when we walk in and I see the crowded hallway in the distance, I'm certainly glad they're marching beside me. If I were alone, I'd currently be laying in the ditch in front of school, curled in the fetal position and waving a white flag.
I adjust the strap of my backpack on my shoulder and swallow hard as we approach the crowd. Surprisingly, though, the closer we get, very few heads turn in our direction. And the ones that do seem to be looking at all four of us rather than just me. I start to feel hopeful, that perhaps this won't be nearly as bad as I thought. But by the time we reach the hallway, the situation reverses lightning fast. Everyone is now looking directly at me.
There are no words to describe how nervous and uncomfortable I feel right now. Yet somehow, I manage to keep it together. My immediate reaction is to throw my eyes down to the floor and keep them there. But as I trudge forward with my team, I feel like I have to glance up at people since they're all watching me. So I start to nervously look up and smile, and before I know it people are actually stopping me, wanting to talk.
They're mostly asking if I'm okay, regarding the accident. But even after I tell them I'm doing fine and then thank them for asking and all that good stuff, they continue to stare at me in awe, as if I just dropped in through the ceiling with my own personal jet pack or something.
They're extremely curious about my genius, but they have absolutely no idea how to bring it up. Which I totally get, because I'm not quite sure how to do that myself; it's not exactly a common topic. But a few people finally do end up asking me about it.
The crowd slowly grows around us, as more and more people stop to listen in. As I'm answering their questions and discussing it with them, I notice Summer a little ways down, standing at her locker with Alison and Alex. The three of them are craning their necks as they look this way. I also notice Becca's and my homeroom geometry teacher, Mrs. Anderson, standing just outside her classroom door and looking over here, as well, along with several other teachers down the hall. Except unlike Summer, they're all smiling.
I surely didn't expect this kind of attention. I expected a lot of stares?but not this.
Someone looking at this assembled crowd from a distance would probably think there's a celebrity present. It's kind of cool, actually. And even though I'm still really uncomfortable, it's definitely not as crippling as it was before.
As I continue talking with people about my genius, answering questions like, are you going to finish high school and do you ever have to study or do homework, I notice other people--girls, specifically--shooting glances between Bryson and me, silently judging our new relationship. They're probably wishing they were in my shoes, which makes me feel pretty good.
The crowd finally begins to break up at about the same pace it came together. People start walking away in two's and then three's and then four's, smiling and waving at me, telling me they're glad I'm okay as they head off to their classes. As soon as the last person is gone, I insist that Bryson and Holly not follow us to the other end of the hall to our lockers, since their lockers and homeroom classes are on this end. They both look at me apprehensively.
"Seriously, I don't want y'all to be late," I tell them. Mrs. Anderson is lenient when it comes to tardiness, but most of the other teachers aren't.
"Yeah, the bell's about to ring; y'all better go," Becca says, and they finally agree.
"You did a great job, Dori," Holly smiles, rubbing my arm.
I take a dramatic deep breath. "Thanks."
As Holly walks away, Bryson steps closer and runs his fingers through my ponytail. "She's right. You were awesome, princess?the hard part's over." He smiles at me as Becca nods in agreement.
"See you in a little bit?" he asks hopefully.
I gaze into his eyes, absolutely dying to jump all over him. "Yeah," I simply say. I can tell by his expression he's not all that thrilled about our lack of physical contact either. We give each other a quick, unsatisfying hug, then he takes off.
As Becca and I rush to our lockers, we're literally now the only two people left in the hallway. Once we make it back to the other side, the bell rings just as we're scurrying up to our homeroom door. Then suddenly, Mrs. Anderson walks out to meet us before we make it inside.
"Hey! I was just coming to check on y'all," she says with a smile, glancing at both of us. Judging by her enthusiasm, I think it's safe to say we're not in any trouble.
"Hey," we both say. Then Mrs. Anderson directs her attention to me, putting her hands on my shoulders.
"First of all, I am so glad you're okay," she says, concerned.
I smile and nod as she continues.
"And?Principal Roberts and I would love to talk to you about your New Solutions binder." She becomes motionless as she stares at me. She looks really worried. Like maybe the well-being of humanity depends on my immediate cooperation for some reason. And even though I know that's not true, I agree to put her mind at ease.
"Sure, we can do that," I tell her. I guess she was afraid I wouldn't want to discuss it at all since I've kept it a secret.
"Great!" she exclaims, as if the human race is no longer in danger. "You can head down to the office now if you want to. I'm going to go get Mr. Dunn because he wanted to join us."
Mr. Dunn is the advanced math and calculus teacher here.
"Do you want me to go with you?" Becca asks, glancing at me, ignoring the fact that she wasn't even invited.
I shake my head. "You don't have to." Then I smile to convey my appreciation.
As Mrs. Anderson walks off, Becca grabs my backpack off my shoulders to take it into the classroom for me.
"I'll be in here trying not to kick Summer's ass," she grins, looking over her shoulder at me as she opens the door.
I point at her. "Don't do that," I order sternly, but with love. Although I don't want her to kick Summer's ass, I definitely am glad Summer's cooped up in that classroom under Becca's watchful eye and away from me. I couldn't feel safer at the moment. And as I pass up the spot where Becca, Bryson, Holly, and I were surrounded by a crowd of curious students just a few minutes ago, I start to feel extremely relieved that the whole mess is over with. My grand entrance is behind me now. The ice is broken, and I'm breathing much easier.
Then I start wondering what the meeting in Mr. Robert's office could be about. And once again, my mind runs away with me, just a little.
Are the college police here, perhaps? Maybe they're waiting in Mr. Robert's office to ambush me, throw me in the back of their car, and haul me off to the state university where I belong.
But believe it or not, I actually determine that that's just not horrific enough. So, of course, there must be NSA agents here. As soon as I open Mr. Robert's door, they'll have no choice but to blindfold me, tape my mouth shut, hog-tie me, and throw me in the trunk of their car. Then they'll take me to an undisclosed location where they'll feed me just enough to keep me alive and use me for code-breaking for the rest of my life.
Then the rational part of my brain kicks in briefly and thinks they probably just want to ask me questions about my New Solutions binder and get me to explain things to them. But somehow I manage to expect the first two options instead.
I was feeling good about things, but of course I've succeeded in terrifying myself once again.
When I reach the cafeteria entrance, I take a right and begin walking down the long hallway which connects the high school side of Stargate to the junior high and elementary side, where the office is located. The dead silence in the long, deserted hallway is kind of spooky, and I can hear my footsteps loud and clear as I walk. Then suddenly, I hear the bathroom door opening a little further down. Right away, all I can think about is how I'm not exactly in the mood to discuss my genius at the moment, and I'm hoping I can somehow avoid whoever it is.
But when I look up, all the blood completely drains from my face?and I'm suddenly terrified on a whole new level.
22
The Invitation
I literally start trembling. This was the last thing I expected. My hearing eerily fades away almost completely, except for a faint ringing in both ears. Everything now seems to be moving in slow motion as I watch Summer emerge from the bathroom.
I immediately look back down to the floor in front of me, paralyzed with fear. My steps have gotten smaller, and my feet are moving slower. I can barely think, but I force myself to quickly contemplate my options out of desperation and realistically, I only have a couple to choose from.
My first instinct is to simply turn around and start fast-walking back to class; that would be the safest bet. Summer has bullied me multiple times in front of everyone, and even once with Becca standing right beside me. I don't even want to think about crossing paths with her in this long, creepy, abandoned hallway, completely unprotected. Especially now that I'm dating Bryson, rather than just flirting with him like before.
But I know that if I turn and head back to class, that'll only give her another reason to harass me. So I reluctantly choose to continue on and just hope for the best.
I've honestly never been this scared in my entire life. After taking only a few more short steps, I find myself revisiting the whole 'turn and run' idea, but I don't do it. Somehow I keep going.
A super-intense wave of terror rushes through me as we approach one another. My eyes stay glued to the floor, and I have no idea whether or not she's looking at me, or what she's thinking or planning, but I'm surely expecting the worst. I'm fully prepared to be threatened, shoved, or even hit.
When I notice her slowing down in front of me, I brace myself and slowly glance up at her. And what she does next is so totally unexpected and insane, I have absolutely no idea how to respond?she smiles at me.
What the hell? I immediately think to myself. I'm confused, but definitely not complaining. The feeling of terror is instantly replaced with an intense feeling of relief. And after taking a second to process the situation, I finally smile back at her cautiously.
Then she looks down at the hall pass in her hands as she fiddles with it, and when she looks back up, there's a clear mixture of sadness and guilt in her eyes.
She dr
ops her shoulders, tilts her head slightly, and says, "I'm really sorry about what happened to you, Dori."
After taking another second to process, I say, "Thanks, I appreciate that," still smiling cautiously.
She smiles back immediately, as if she didn't expect my response, but she's really happy with it. Then her smile fades as she glances back down at the hall pass.
"And also?" she begins, reluctantly looking back up at me. And this time, there's only guilt in her eyes. "I'm sorry about the way I've treated you this year."
I simply nod because I have no idea what to say. Then she goes on to admit that she was kind of jealous of Bryson and me--which I already knew--but that was no excuse for her behavior, and then she apologizes again.
As strange as this whole thing is, she does seem to be genuine. She's not just speaking the words; her body language is different, her tone is different, her facial expressions are different--she's like a completely different Summer. This doesn't appear to be a forced apology. And although I guess time will tell for sure, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt for now.
"It's okay," I smile. "It's in the past."
She smiles back kindly. Then she starts telling me about a party she's having this coming Saturday night at her house. I listen and nod as she talks about her parents going out of town and her sister coming in from college.
"So, anyway, I'd like for you to come, and bring whoever you want," she tells me, looking at me and grinning, waiting for me to respond. Even though she looks one hundred percent sincere, I can't help but think in the back of my mind that this could possibly be a setup. Like maybe when I walk into her house, I'll get a bucket of pig's blood dumped all over me or something. But once again, I give her the benefit of the doubt.
"Okay. Sounds like fun," I say.
Her grin stretches into a wide smile. "Good!" she says excitedly. And just as she's about to say something else, she glances over my shoulder and her expression changes drastically. Her face instantly pales in terror, much like mine did when I saw her walk out of the bathroom a few minutes ago. When I turn to look, I see Becca walking toward us.
She's staring at Summer, and the anger flashing in her eyes is intense. It's even scaring me a little, even though I know I'm safe and sound. But Summer?not so much.
"I'll see you later, Dori," Summer says, shooting me a quick glance and smile before taking off down the hall, toward Becca.
I start to get really nervous. This might not be all that pretty; in fact, it might be downright ugly.
The closer they get to one another, the farther Summer veers away from Becca until she's against the wall, clearly fearing what Becca might do. It's like a replay of the scene that just took place, except now Summer is in my shoes. And strangely, I'm worried for her since she was just nice to me.
But luckily, for some reason Becca lets her off the hook. She simply stares Summer down as they cross paths, like a lion stalking a baby buffalo. And believe me, Summer's eyes never leave the ground as she speed-walks by.
Becca looks back at Summer a couple times as she walks up, a trace amount of anger still lingering in her eyes. I guess it takes a few minutes to turn off that kind of intensity.
"Everything okay?" she asks as soon as she's within earshot.
I nod as she turns to take one last look at Summer before she disappears around the corner.
"Surprisingly, yeah. She was actually nice to me," I say, shocked at my own words.
Becca whips her head around and stares at me. "You're kidding."
"I'm serious. Weird, huh?" I giggle as Becca searches my face, like she's waiting for me to tell her she's on a hidden camera show. And when I tell her about being invited to the party, her suspicious glare turns into a grin of total disbelief.
Just as she's about to comment on the situation, she looks over her shoulder and then right back at me. "Let's talk about this nonsense later. I saw Mrs. Anderson and Mr. Dunn coming down the main hall a second ago."
I turn and take off toward the office as Becca heads into the bathroom.
"Thanks for coming to check on me!" I look back and whisper.
"No problem, girlie!" Her words echo out of the bathroom as the door closes. As I hurry down the hall, I realize that's why she didn't pound Summer's face in.
I take a seat on the bench outside Mr. Robert's office and wait for Mrs. Anderson and Mr. Dunn to show up. When they finally arrive, I let them go in first to throw off the NSA agents who may or may not be in there. It'll give me a chance to assess the situation and escape if necessary.
To my relief, however, I don't see any men in suits or uniforms of any kind when I walk in. There's just Principal Roberts and Mrs. Hebert, the guidance counselor, which obviously means they're planning to guide me in some way. Even though that's not nearly as intense as being captured by the NSA, it's exactly what I've always feared, what Becca and I have both feared: pressure from people, trying to force me to move on and leave my current life behind. Even though I'm no good at confrontation, I will push back on this matter. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not losing Becca.
Surprisingly, Mrs. Hebert's not saying much of anything at all. We're all just flipping through the copy of my New Solutions binder they made, and I'm explaining to them exactly how I've gone about simplifying all of these formulas, while trying to convince them that all the new formulas are correct and foolproof and will work every time with every problem. It's kind of exhausting, honestly. I definitely have a newfound respect for teachers.
Mrs. Anderson and Mr. Dunn actually stay with me much longer than I expected, but I start to lose them the further we get into the binder. By the time we reach Fermat's Last Theorem, they're both lost in another world as they stare at the paper, completely puzzled.
Then as we're wrapping things up, Mrs. Hebert finally directs her attention to me and asks if I would be interested in going straight to college. I can see the desperation in her eyes. She knows I'm going to decline. Luckily when I do, she just smiles and nods and doesn't say another word about it. This meeting has definitely gone a lot better and quicker than I imagined it would go.