Chapter 3
The following Thursday after school, Liam shows up at the side gate unannounced as I’m coming out of the kitchen to the backyard.
“HALT! WHO GOES THERE?” Josh yells poking his head out of the tree house. I stifle a giggle and almost drop our Gatorade and chips and salsa. After Josh coming over practically every day to hang out with me in the backyard, we seem to have picked up right where we left off when we were ten years old. It was kind of weird and stilted at first until we started sharing what each of us remembers from when we were little, piecing our past together like a jigsaw puzzle, and then Mom dug out an album of pictures for us to help fill in the blanks.
Between that and having lunch and a class together, somewhere it just became easy to be around each other. So easy now, sometimes it feels like he never left.
“Oh my word, do you know there’s a bloke there in your tree?” Liam’s accent is so adorable.
“Just ignore him. He’s a bit loopy today. He just heard he made the varsity track team,” I say crossing the yard to meet Liam halfway.
“Are you and he…?” Liam leaves the question just hanging there and it takes me a minute to catch on to what he is asking.
“What? No. No! Oh Gosh no. Josh is just an old friend. We grew up together.”
Relief breaks out all over his face. “Ah. Yes, good then. Well, um, Katherine I’m working on the decorating committee for the back to school dance next week and I was wondering if you’d want to accompany me as my date that night?” Wow. That is the most formal invitation I have ever heard. The accent makes the invite sounds regal.
“Sounds like fun. I’d love to. I had a bad head cold this time last year and had to miss the dance,” ew Katie! A cute guy asks you out and you give him a mental picture of you with a drippy nose? Way to go. Lucky me Liam does not seem to notice or even care, “but you should know, I don’t really dance in public.”
“Excellent! Neither do I, really. Two left feet and all. So we have a date. Cheers then,” and I swear he does a little skip backward through the gate.
“Kat’s got a date! Kat’s got a date!” Josh sings at me climbing down from the tree house.
“Remind me again how old you are?” I laugh.
“Gosh I have just got the dreamiest boyfriend ever,” he teases clasping his hands together under his chin. The fake high-pitched girl voice makes me laugh so hard my ribs start to hurt.
“Shut up. Liam’s not my boyfriend,” I say handing him his glass, “he just asked me to the back to school dance that’s all. He’s nice. He didn’t even care I don’t dance,” I tell him as we walk back to the kitchen.
“You don’t dance? Seriously?”
“Well I do, but only in the kitchen. C’mon. You promised to help me with memorizing my lines for the One Act Play festival next month.”
Chatting up a senior football player the first week of school, and another senior with an amazing accent asks me to a school dance—I ponder the world of possibilities as I grab my drink and the tray of snacks to head up to my room to study with Josh.
All in all, a pretty great start to my junior year.
Or so I thought.
Apparently running lines for the One Act Play festival is exhausting because Josh and I end up falling asleep in my bed. I’m dozing, half asleep, listening to Josh snore softly behind me. I’m also enjoying the feeling of his arm wrapped around my waist holding me tight against his stomach with his leg thrown over mine, probably more than I should if I think about it for more than two seconds, when I hear Dad call from the hallway, "Kitten the grocery store had some great sales today. Do you want crab cakes or lasagna for din---WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? WHY ARE YOU SPOONING MY DAUGHTER? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN HER BED!?"
I may be a little groggy but I’m awake enough to register my Dad is about to have a raging meltdown. It also occurs to me that I have never heard him swear much less raise his voice. I realize this is not going to go well when he yells, “SARAH, WHERE’S MY GUN?”
“Honey you know we’re not gun people,” she answers from downstairs. How long has Mom been home?
I feel Josh quickly sit up behind me and for a split-second I miss the feeling of his arm around my waist but I don’t have another minute to think about that because Dad explodes again, “THEN WHERE’S MY METAL BAT FROM SOFTBALL PRACTICE?” Dad points at Josh saying, “You stay right there. Don’t. Move.” Dad storms out of my doorway, his stomping echoing down the stairs.
Josh jumps off the bed stumbling to the door, tripping over his feet on the way there, scooping up his Converse with both hands, “is he serious? He’s not serious is he?”
“Of course not, he finds guys in my bed all the time. Relax.”
“WHAT?!”
I sit up throwing my legs over the side of the bed. “I’m kidding you spaz. Relax. We didn’t do anything wrong and my Dad’s a big teddy bear. He was just…caught off guard is all. It’s kind of cute him being all fatherly and protective.”
“It’s not cute from where I’m standing! The words ‘gun’ and ‘metal bat’ are not good words for a guy to hear from a hot girl’s angry Dad ok? Especially when the guy was just found in that hot girl’s bed with her!”
Hot girl? Wait, what? WHAT?
“Look, I gotta go. I’ll call you later if I can ok,” and just like that the guy whose body warmth I can still feel bolts out of my room in untied shoes like the hounds of hell are chasing him. Which, I guess from his viewpoint, they are. I can still hear Dad banging around in the basement yelling when I hear the front door slam shut. Better go explain before he has a stroke.
Mom is in the kitchen calmly unpacking groceries when we both hear Dad yell.
“I CAN’T FIND THE SOFTBALL BAG SARAH!”
“It’s on the shelf in the laundry room, over the sleeping bags and camping equipment.”
“ARE YOU HOLDING HIM SARAH?”
“Yes dear,” she said wandering around the kitchen putting away the groceries Dad just brought in.
Mom keeps glancing over at me without saying anything as she moves from bag to cabinet and back again.
I finally break the silence. “We didn’t do anything Mom. We fell asleep while rehearsing my lines for the festival.”
“I know,” she said unpacking more groceries.
“I’m serious. Nothing happened.”
“I know,” she said as she puts a box of spaghetti in the pantry and a bag of apples in the fridge.
Her relaxed attitude is starting to irritate me, but I have no idea why.
“Why aren’t you freaking out like Dad right now?”
She closes the fridge door to stand in front of me putting her hand over mine. “Because one, I know my daughter, and two, I found you guys snoring away about 15 minutes ago when I came to collect your laundry hamper.”
“So why is Dad losing his mind right now?” I ask her.
“Your father is in…Protector Mode, for lack of a better term, because he just came face-to-face, literally, with the fact that his baby girl is growing up. This is how he’s dealing with his new reality.”
“By threatening my friend with guns and bats?”
“Don’t be melodramatic Katie, you know your Dad didn’t threaten anyone. Not really. It’s more like…he put Josh on alert.”
“What?”
“Think of this as Dad’s way of letting you and Josh know there are going to have to be some new rules to your play dates,” she said trying hard to keep her lips from curling into a little smile.
“Oh God Mom, please stop talking.”
“I’m only half joking Katie. From now on, whenever Josh comes over, you’ll need to be down here with us in the library, living room, or kitchen, or if he’s upstairs in your bedroom, the door stays open the whole time. Got it?”
“MOM!”
“I’m not kidding Katie. Open doors at all times. Got it?” Mom does not use her serious Mom voice that often, but when she does, it definitely compels you to pay attentio
n.
“Got it. But you don’t have to worry. Josh won’t be back in my room. This was just a one-time thing. It’s no big deal,” I say hopping off the kitchen stool to head back up to my room and far away from this conversation.
I hear Mom say softly behind me, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
It was still warm out for the last week of September, so I chose one of my summer dresses with the thin spaghetti straps and the blue and white all over pattern. I could never decide if it looked more like splashes of soft watercolor or a lazy tie-dye job, but either way, the dress was always one of my favorites. More so now since Laurel altered the neckline turning it into a low scoop that shows of the barest hint of cleavage. When she first suggested raising the hemline I wasn’t sure, but now seeing it float above the tops of my thighs instead of my calves, I can see her fashion sense was right. As always.
The past year I started choosing clothes with more abstract prints and lots of color. My Graphic Designer Dad said that’s my artistic side coming through loud and clear taking over my life. Dad has been in a playful battle of wits with Mom the past couple of years trying to steer me to becoming some kind of artist over an academic every chance he gets.
My Psychiatrist Mom disagrees of course, though she is less subtle with leaving college brochures in my backpack about Georgetown University’s Research Department and articles about the University of Maryland’s new Technology program. She’s cute. Weird, but cute.
So many times I have wished I had a sibling or two to draw away some of their attention.
When Mom dropped me off at the dance, I found always-the-fashionista-Laurel, wearing a shimmery chocolate brown dress that looked like someone dipped her in a vat of pure liquid bronze. The dress swirled around her with every move she made and looked gorgeous against her dark skin and new orange highlights.
Then again, Laurel would look gorgeous if she walked in wearing a trash bag--and she would wear the heck out of it too--with a pack of drooling guys trailing after her in five minutes flat. I’m lucky she takes it all in stride and makes a joke out of it. She could easily turn into one of those mean girls like Tiffani Sobhiani who constantly used her superpowers and self-confidence to enslave people, then abused them to get whatever she wanted.
We were sitting together on the gymnasium bleachers when we saw Player start walking straight toward us.
It was all I could do not to roll my eyes as he put a foot up on the bottom bench and leaned forward holding out his hand to me, “how about a dance hot stuff.”
“Pass. I’m waiting for my date.”
“Oh c’mon. The dude is obviously not here yet. I won’t bite. Not unless you ask me nice,” he said under his breath.
“Does you being overly obnoxious ever work on girls or do you just wear them down until they give in just to make you shut up?” I ask him.
“Actually it’s my charm, personality, and acrobatic tongue that do it every time. It’s a rare Saturday night that I’m not beating them off with a stick,” he bragged.
“Oh I’m sure there’s plenty of beating off involved in your Saturday nights Player.”
“Katie!” Laurel exclaimed next to me.
Player was shocked too. His hand dropped to his side and he took a step back.
“Good one. Feisty. The Betty Boops aren’t the only thing new about you this year hot stuff,” he said with a huge, wolfish grin.
He turned to Laurel next, “how about you my little chocolate éclair? Want to get hot and sweaty on the dance floor and show these freshman newbies how it’s done?”
And just like that his attention moved on to a new challenge as she grabbed his hand with a giggle. The girls call him Player for a reason, but he may have met his match in Laurel. She will knock him on his butt right in the middle of the gym if he steps out of line with her, or, even better he’ll be swatting her hands away from his ass for a change; though knowing him he probably likes that too.
I wish I had an ounce of her confidence around guys.
Right at my moment of anxious self-doubt, new old friend Josh comes up to sit on the bleachers next to me.
“Hey.”
“Oh hi, I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” I say pleasantly surprised.
“I wasn’t planning on it, but my parents said it was a good idea and kicked me out.”
“You look nice. The polo and khakis are a nice change from your two-sizes-too-small t-shirts and jeans,” I tell him.
“Ha. Ha. Not as nice as you though. That dress is….something,” he said with a smile, “more of Laurel’s handiwork?”
“Yep. She didn’t leave me anything that falls lower than just above my knees except a few pairs of pants for the winter, and even those escaped only because I hid them from her fashion fury,” I say laughing.
“That’s ok, I doubt you’d find even one guy here who’ll complain. They’d probably be willing to put her on commission,” he jokes back.
Before I can teasingly ask if that includes him, we see Player walk by and wink at us heading straight for another senior who is talking to a seriously well-endowed girl a few feet down from us. The girl has long blond braids, and is wearing a shiny purple dress with pink ribbons that make her look like an overage Disney princess. We watch Player go up to the guy, slap him on the back before saying, "hey Mark, how's your herpes doing man?"
I nearly fall off the bleachers from laughing so hard watching the poor guy walk away from the girl while flipping Player the bird behind her back.
Josh is laughing so hard he can barely breathe, "did he…did he just say what I think he said?"
I try to get myself under control when I see Liam walking through the crowd from the DJ table toward me.
“Good evening Katherine. You certainly look cracking. Would you like some refreshments?”
“Cracking?”
“Sorry, that would be stunning to you Americans.”
I blush and smile as I take his offered hand to help me down from the bleachers, “yes, thank you Liam. It’s getting a little warm in here.”
I look over my shoulder to tell Josh bye and he mouths oh la la at me making me smother another laughing fit.
I lose sight of Josh for a while but see him later when Liam manages to coax me out to the dance floor just once for a slow dance. I catch Josh’s eye where he is slow dancing with Laurel a few feet away. He winks at me with an infectious grin. Jaxon and Player are over by the snack table watching Josh and Laurel intently.
What are they up to?
I look back at Josh and Laurel just in time to see her slide her hand down to Josh’s butt, giving it a good squeeze. The look of shock and embarrassment on his face are so absolutely priceless that I can’t help but laugh out loud, startling poor Liam who’s been holding me quietly at a respectable distance.
Before I can apologize to him, I look back to where Player is laughing his ass off holding out his hand trying to keep from falling over from laughing so hard. Jaxon is putting a five-dollar bill in his palm looking pissed.
I realize Josh has just been officially accepted by my friends, and it makes me feel warm all over.
In contrast, the fast awkward peck on the cheek I get from Liam when he drops me off back at my house a short time later, does not.
The next afternoon, Josh is in my bedroom and he is a little restless which is understandable since my Dad threatened him with a softball bat last week. Josh wanders over to my desk noticing I have the Goodreads website open on my laptop and sits down.
“Hey, I heard about this last year at my old school. Is this you?” he asks pointing to the screen.
“Yeah, but my profile picture stinks. It’s two years old. I just haven’t gotten around to changing it."
“That’s you at 15? You look kind of cute with bangs.”
“Laurel took it at the end of our freshman year when all the girls wanted to look like Kim Kardashian and bangs were all the rage.”
“Yeah I totally wan
ted to grow my hair out long for the same reason,” he said making me laugh so hard I almost snort Gatorade up my nose.
"What did you look like in 9th grade at your old high school? Have you kept in touch with anyone there?" I ask him.
“Holy cow! 326? Is that how many books you’ve read?” he asks.
“No, actually I was planning to do an update this afternoon to add the ones from the last few weeks but I got caught up reading."
I make a mental note that he always seems to change the subject when I ask him about his time away.
He gets up and starts wandering around my room poking through all my stuff--picking things off the shelves, turning them around in his hands before putting them back in place. It’s weird.
I know I should be totally freaking out that this guy I have known about barely a month is in my room looking at my things but the last couple weeks we’ve just slipped into this weird easy manner with each other. Like the last seven years didn’t happen and he never left. I try to remember if this is how I felt when we were little.
I can’t, but I wish I did. Mom told me she remembers rarely seeing one of us without the other since we had our first play date at two years old.
Speak of the devil, Mom brings in my laundry giving me a little raised eyebrow reminder behind Josh's back as she leaves. I start folding clothes shaking my head at her.
“What’s this?” he said snapping me out of my brain drifting. He's holding up a clear bottle.
"Lavender linen water," I tell him, "you sprits it on your sheets and your pillow. The scent helps you fall asleep."
He just shakes his head laughing a little bit and puts the bottle back on my dresser, "weird stuff happens in girl's rooms."
"Right. Like you don't do anything weird in your room either," I tease him, then suddenly feel my face on fire when I realize how that sounds.
"Red really is your color," he said laughing at me.
I throw a handful of clothes at him that he catches with his catlike reflexes snatching them in mid air.
I wouldn't have thought it possible, but I flame even redder in the face and feel burning hot when he holds up a pair of my purple thong underwear.
His shock is immediate when he realizes what he's holding but he still manages to get out, "um, these are...interesting. Early birthday present for me?"
"You are a dead man!" I yell launching myself off the bed at him to grab them back.
He drops my panties, spins out the door, and uses those long legs to clear the stairs three at a time to bolt out the front door with me hot on his heels. He's waving at me already half way up the street when I reach the front porch.
The next day at lunch Josh sits down across from me asking, "What’s the lunchroom topic of the day ladies?"
"Kissing boys."
“Annnnd I’ll be sitting over with the track guys today,” he said standing back up before his butt can even hit the bench.
“Oh relax. You can give us the guy’s point of view. Educate us,” Laurel told him.
“My ‘education’ on that topic gratefully is extremely non-existent,” Josh said grinning.
“No dummy, we don’t mean you kissing boys, we mean kissing, in general,” Laurel told him.
He looks down making an intense study of his lunch. Laurel doesn’t notice and just starts plowing ahead when Jaxon flops down next to her other side and plants a kiss on her cheek, “Hello gorgeous.”
“Hot stuff,” Laurel said.
“Hey, I thought I was hot stuff,” I whine.
“Player has dibs on that for you,” Jaxon said.
“What?” Josh pipes up.
"Actually, I have to do this ridiculous survey project thing for math, so I'm making it having something to do with the other thing I'm interested in---fashion. What is everyone's favorite color?" Laurel asks us.
I spare only the slightest glance across the table at Josh before I answer, "green."
Player said "yellow" as he takes the seat next to me looking at Laurel's yellow body-hugging sweater (which had no influence on his response I’m sure.)
Jaxon likes orange.
"What about you Josh? Do you have a favorite color?" Laurel asks him.
When he doesn't answer right away I look up to find him flashing a wicked grin over at me. He said, "I don't know, but lately I'm kind of partial to purple."
I nearly choke on my fries. Player whacking me on the back does not help.
I flash Josh my best you-are-so-dead-look shaking my head trying not to laugh.
He's positively beside himself with amusement at my embarrassment.