He shrugged. “Maybe. But I don’t really want to see that.”
“Do you want to sit with us?” Lucas will be so mad. Pam will be so jazzed.
“Sure. Who’s us?”
I tried to come up with some way to not make it sound like a date. But it didn’t work.
He shook his head. “I don’t want to be a third wheel.”
I stopped and grabbed his wrist. “Please be a third wheel.”
He broke into an enormous grin. “What’s going on?”
I exhaled and all this anxiety poured out of me. “It was supposed to be a group.” I let go of him and told him about the evening so far.
“You think it was on purpose?”
We started down the hall again. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”
When we reached the heavy double doors under the scrolling Tron marquis he opened it for me. He didn’t touch me this time, but I got the fizzy-soda feeling anyway.
As soon as we walked through the doors Lucas turned and saw me. His happy-puppy face morphed into angry bulldog in the time it took Damon to hold up one palm and wave.
“I found him in the lobby.”
Dale and Pam sat next to each other on the inside of the row, with one empty seat left for me between Pam and Lucas. Lucas had the aisle seat.
Pam started to laugh like a mullet-headed hyena. “Dale, move over.”
Dale scooted and Pam followed. Lucas stood up to let me pass, then slid over to the next seat, sat down and ditched Damon beside the aisle.
I could’ve killed him.
CHAPTER 10
“I’ll take you home.” Lucas reached for my hand again to pull me out to his mother’s car.
I shook my head and edged closer to Damon. “My mom’ll be here. It’s okay.”
“You should’ve gone with Pam.” Lucas frowned at me, then glared at Damon. “I’ll wait for you.”
His mother honked the horn and pumped her hand up and down through the open passenger window.
“You better go. I’m fine.”
He exhaled with sort of a growl, kissed me on the cheek before I could dodge him, then left through the double glass doors.
The lobby had emptied to an eerie stillness after the early wave of moviegoers filed out, but now the buzz of voices and footsteps began to pick up again for the late shows.
Damon leaned against a pinball machine. “Are you sure she’s coming?”
“Mom said one of them would be here at a quarter after.” I looked up at the clock over the snack bar for the umpteenth time. Ten till ten. “I’ll try calling again.”
At the payphones I pulled the dime out of my pocket, slipped it into the vertical slot and dialed my number. Same thing: it rang and rang and rang. I hung up and the coin clinked through the phone and dropped into the bottom tray.
When I turned around Damon stood just a few steps away. I shook my head.
“I’ll ride you home.”
“What do you mean?”
“On my bike.” He put his hand on my elbow and led me toward the door.
My whole body shivered at the thought of putting my hands on his shoulders. “It’s kind of a long way. Too far for you to pedal standing up the whole time.”
“You’re not going to ride on the seat.”
I looked up at him. “Where do you want me to ride?”
When we passed through the double doors the cool evening air washed over us. The parking lot had cleared out since the earlier shows, and only a few people migrated toward the building. I saw a few high school kids, but most seemed older, like married couples.
Damon and I walked over to the bike racks and he pulled a key out of his jeans pocket. “If I had the dirt bike I could ride you behind me on the seat. But I’m not street legal here without a driver’s license.”
He unlocked a pretty hardcore-looking bicycle. “Is that a mountain bike?”
“Yeah. But I put road tires on it.”
“What’s the difference?”
He twisted the key in the lock and unwrapped the tube-chain. “Grip, speed. And comfort.”
Damon knocked the kickstand up with the side of his foot and backed the bike out onto the sidewalk.
“Did you and your brother both come on bikes?”
Damon nodded.
“Adam doesn’t have a car?”
“Doesn’t have a license.” He wheeled it over the curb and we walked toward the street. “We’ll ride after we get off Thirty-Six.”
I put my hand on the seat and walked on the opposite side from Damon. I looked the bike over. “So, where am I riding?”
“The handlebars.”
I stopped. “Huh-uh.”
He laughed. “Adam and I used to do it all the time. It feels kind of freaky when you’re the one on the bars, but it’s not hard to ride that way. Easier than having someone behind you.”
“I’ll walk.”
Damon shook his head. “We’re not walking that far. You live out past Dugan’s barn, right?”
“How did you know?”
“Pam told me.”
I felt a little sick. “When did Pam tell you that?”
“In study hall.”
What else had Pam told him?
We walked about a quarter mile down State Road 36 then crossed between two sets of headlights and turned left onto Garrett Road. He pushed the bike onto the shoulder, climbed on the seat and planted his right foot on the cracked asphalt.
“I guess you’ve never gotten on handlebars before?”
They looked about a mile high. “No, I haven’t.”
“Straddle the front tire, facing forward. Then grab the handlebars and push yourself up off the ground.”
“That easy, huh?”
“I won’t let you fall.”
The front tire looked half a mile high. “I’m not sure you can help me from back there.”
“I was born on a bike. Trust me.”
Trust him.
I backed up over the tire and reached behind me for the handlebars. His hands gripped them on either side of mine.
“Good. Now hop up.”
I took a deep breath and pushed off the ground. The bike wobbled under me and I grasped for a foothold to steady myself. Then Damon’s hands spread over my waist.
“Right here, settle into the bar and lean back.”
“Lean back on what?” I cried, as I gripped the curves of the handlebars and shook.
“On me.”
On him?
I tried to look back over my shoulder, but every little movement threatened my balance. “Where do I put my feet?”
I heard his voice right behind my head. “Just let them hang.”
“I need to put my feet somewhere!”
“Relax. I’m not going to let you fall.”
I cried out when he let go of my waist, but he just adjusted my hands a little.
“You can put your feet on the fender if you want, but don’t stomp on it, okay?”
“Okay.”
“It’s not a bad ride if you kick your legs out and just chill.”
“I don’t feel chill.”
“You ready? I’m going to go now.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think I’m ready.”
“I’ve done this a million times with Adam, and you’re way smaller and lighter than he ever was.”
“Did you ever drop him?”
He didn’t say anything right away. Then he kind of laughed. “Not by accident.”
That was funny, and I laughed. And he took that as permission to take off.
The bike weaved a little left then a bit right as he pumped the pedals the first few times. He veered into the center of the road and as we built up speed the bike went straighter and smoother.
“You’re going to get one killer ab workout if you don’t lean back.”
The only two times I ever touched his chest I’d run into it. And once I ended up with a bloody nose. “I’m kind of afraid to move,” I called back.<
br />
“I’ve got you,” he promised. “And it’s easier for me if I can feel where you are.”
I tipped back a couple of inches more and rested the blades of my shoulders against the fronts of his.
He leaned into me and put his chin over my shoulder. “That’s better. Now I can see.”
I yelped.
“I’m kidding.”
The vibrations of his voice tickled my ear, and now I knew why he always smelled like wind.
“Fun, right?” he asked.
Oh, yeah. Way fun. “A little scary.”
He laughed softly, right next to my cheek. “Scary can be fun.”
As we sailed along the dark, abandoned road, I eased into the comfortable warmth of his chest and let myself trust his arms where they braced me on both sides. I gave in to the sensation of flight and after a while I even laid my head on his shoulder to look straight up into the night sky. The rush of forward motion against the stillness of the flickering stars and smoky clouds cast me into this disoriented exhilaration, the strange thrill of total helplessness.
“I thought you’d like it,” he said.
I closed my eyes and my arms relaxed against his. The rhythmic whoosh-whoosh of the tires echoed through my legs and torso, and around the jumbled system of nerves inside my skull. “I don’t usually do crazy stuff like this,” I whispered.
“How come?”
I turned my face away from the sky and looked at him, so close the warmth of his skin eclipsed the coolness of mine. “No one to be crazy with, maybe.”
He looked at me, his eyes gray as storm clouds under the ashy moonlight. “That’s too bad.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
And the wind blew my hair across his cheek.
* * * * *
We got to my house way too fast.
Damon stopped the bike on the road at the end of the driveway. “Adam and I have ridden each other on gravel, but I don’t think you’d like it.”
Much as my butt hurt, the rest of me could’ve ridden on forever. And then some.
I slid down and the ground slammed me back to my senses. I looked up at the house.
“Kind of dark,” Damon said.
“I’ve got a key.”
For half a second the threat of a goodnight kiss flashed through my mind and I panicked. Then the living room light snapped on.
How big a dork was I to feel relieved?
Damon stretched his arms behind his back, then over his head. “I’ll see you at school, then.”
I nodded and swallowed. “Yeah. Thanks for the ride home.”
“No problem.” He smiled. “Thanks for trusting me.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
He turned the handlebars toward the road and spun the bike around. “You always have a choice.”
I watched him disappear into the darkness, then I walked up the driveway to the house.
Mom read a novel on the couch, wrapped in her bathrobe.
“Pirate’s Passion, huh?”
“What took you two so long? Where’s your dad?” She unrolled the cover to close the book.
“Good question. I thought someone was going to pick me up.”
Her lower jaw came forward as she opened her mouth. “He didn’t come?”
I crossed my arms. “I waited over half an hour. I tried calling.”
She shifted in her seat. “I had a client meeting. Your dad was supposed to get you.”
“Kind of late for a meeting, isn’t it?”
“How did you get home?”
“A friend brought me.” I moved toward the stairs. “Where is Dad, anyway?”
“Still at school, probably. It’s his favorite place in the world.” She opened her book again.
Smooch-and-Hooches, Dad called them. Once when I was a kid I snuck one off her shelf and tried to read it but had to use my dictionary for so many words, like cad and demoiselle, that I gave up after a few chapters. I liked my painting, sculpture, architecture and art history books a lot better, anyway.
I went upstairs and didn’t even bother to say good-night.
In bed I rewound my mind past the few minutes since I got home, back to flying through the dark with Damon close enough to whisper in my ear. I lay back on the pillow and closed my eyes.
And I rode on his handlebars the rest of the night.
* * * * *
I leaned over the back of the next pew and poked at Jimmy. He turned around and half-nodded.
“Are you still mad at me?” I whispered.
He shook his head, but the expression on his face told me different.
The choir director stood, lifted both hands in the air to get everyone up, and announced, “We will now sing verses one, two, and three of ‘It Is Well With My Soul’.”
I pulled a hymnal out of the holder in the back of the pew and found the song. I could sing it by memory, but it didn’t look good not to have the hymnal open.
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows, like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
The director held up his palm to silence the congregation, and only the purple-robed choir sang the refrain in something like twelve-part harmony. One of the sopranos went so high I plugged my ears and worried about the stained glass windows.
IT IS WELL, with my soul!
IT IS WELL, it is well, WITH MY SOUL!
Was it well with my soul? Between Jimmy’s strange mood and the memory of Friday night on Damon’s bike, I couldn’t really concentrate on God. Or anything else.
The director let us sing again.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed his own blood for my soul.
And we stopped for the choir.
IT IS WELL, with my soul!
IT IS WELL, it is well, WITH MY SOUL!
Dad adjusted his bifocals and moved his hymnal nearer, then away, then nearer again. Mom and Mark shared one on the other side of me. Mark sang in this beautiful, deep baritone, but with a British accent and way too much facial expression. Mom jabbed him with her elbow and gave him a dirty look, but he didn’t stop.
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
Mark mouthed the words of the chorus along with the choir, one hand on his heart while he held the hymnal with his other. He pinched his eyes closed and tipped his head back.
IT IS WELL, with my soul!
IT IS WELL, it is well, WITH MY SOUL!
I bit the inside of my bottom lip so I didn’t laugh. The people near us didn’t think it was funny at all. Mom hissed at Mark, “Sit down and stop that!”
Next we had the announcements and the prayer-and-praise requests.
I grabbed my bulletin and a pen and leaned over to Dad. “Can I go sit with Jimmy?”
He nodded, then stopped me before I stepped over his knees. “Is Jimmy the new boyfriend?” he whispered.
“No, Dad.” I rolled my eyes.
I slid in next to Jimmy and waved at his parents. “Why are you mad at me?” I wrote on my bulletin, and showed it to Jimmy.
He shook his head and mouthed, “I’m not.”
I scribbled, “Right.”
He took the pen in his left hand and wrote. “Disappointed.”
“Why?” I whispered.
“Drew Barony?”
I almost laughed out loud. The thing outside the gym.
I grabbed the pen back. “Drew’s an idiot. He wanted to make Sweeney mad, that’s all. I am not going with Drew Barony.”
He smiled. A real, genuine Jimmy smile. “That’s good. I thought you went nuts.”
/> After the announcements we settled in for the sermon. I always missed going to Sunday school, now that I aged out of it and had to stay in the sanctuary for the whole service. But today I didn’t mind. It gave me time to think. Okay, to daydream.
I checked the sermon’s title in the bulletin: “The Power of the Word.”
Jimmy picked up the pen again. “It’s the Sci-Fi Festival this weekend, too.”
“Sorry.” I drew a frowny-face in the last free corner of the bulletin.
That explained why Lucas didn’t call yesterday to grill me about Damon.
The pastor stood behind the wood podium and bowed his head. The tassels on the purple and gold Alpha and Omega runner fluttered in the breeze from the open windows. He said, “Amen,” then raised his head. “The Power of the Word.”
Twenty minutes to fantasize about Damon.
Jimmy poked me with the corner of the bulletin. I squinted to make out the tiny letters under the order of service. “Pam told me about the movie.”
“What about it?”
“D.S.”
Those two letters knocked my heart out of rhythm and forced all the blood into my head. I shrugged and shook my head.
“You are such a lousy liar,” he whispered. “Admit you like him.”
“So what if I do?” I whispered back. “He’s nice.”
Jimmy’s mother leaned over to glare at us. The whites of her eyes outlined her olive-green irises, and she pressed her first finger against her bright red lips. She sat back and fanned herself with her bulletin. Mia leaned forward from the other side of her mom and waved at me.
Jimmy didn’t say anything for a few minutes, then folded the bulletin inside-out and found a blank spot. “I don’t get you.”
“Why?”
“We’re friends, right?”
I nodded.
“Why don’t you talk to me?”
“I talk to you.”
He flipped the bulletin over again to find more white space. “Not like you used to.”
With no more space on the paper, I wrote on my hand. “What do you want?”
He wrote on the inside of his wrist. “Things to be like they were.”
“Nothing’s changing,” I whispered.
Jimmy stared at me a long time, then said, “You are.”
CHAPTER 11
For the first time ever I wished we didn’t have a holiday from school, but Labor Day made it a three-day weekend.
Rain poured over the house in buckets on Monday morning. I rolled onto my side, pulled the comforter up to my ear, and stared at the sheets of water rolling down the window. Lightning flashed behind it, then thunder pounded.