His gaze ran over me and to my absolute shock, his face turned red. “Not exactly.”
“You told them I was your girlfriend.”
As though he couldn’t help himself, his eyes wandered over my body yet again, like he was really seeing me for the first time. “Well, you are a girl, and we are friends.” He cleared his throat. “Besides, your feelings were right about them. Now that they think you have a boyfriend they’ll leave you alone.”
“Oh.” All the wind went out of my sails and disappointment left a hollow place in my chest as he picked up a wrench and went back to work on the truck motor.
“You’re not old enough to have a real boyfriend,” he muttered.
I stiffened. “If I’m old enough to have babies, then I’m damn well old enough to have a boyfriend,” I ground out. “And just as soon as I decide on who it’s going to be, I’ll let you know so you can stop lying to people.”
The wrench he was holding hit the engine with a stunned clang, but I wasn’t waiting around to hear what he had to say about my pronouncement. I ran all the way back to the house, up the stairs, and into my room, locking the door behind me. It was two days before I deigned to talk to him again, or even acknowledge his existence, but I did notice he was paying more attention to the boys around me, and he wasn’t frowning anymore. He was downright scowling. But the real problems didn’t start until a month after school was out for the summer.
For once, I was home alone, something that didn’t happen often in a family like mine. The Judge had gone to some kind of civic meeting, Aunt Darla was at the Children’s Home, and Mother and Aunt Jane were grocery shopping, something I hated and avoided whenever possible. I’d finished my chores, and then read for a while, but I was too restless to sit still for long.
Grabbing a soda from the fridge, I went outside to sit on my swing. The seat had been replaced a few times over the years, and I knew I was too old for it now, but I couldn’t bring myself to give it up yet.
The heat outside was miserable, the humidity so high it was like breathing underwater. Not a breath of air stirred the leaves on the tree above, and for once, the robins weren’t fighting over nesting space. There wasn’t a sound anywhere, I realized abruptly.
I lifted my gaze to the line of thick black clouds rolling in from the southwest. I’ve never been afraid of storms, but when you live in an area prone to tornados, you learn to respect them. You also learn the warning signs pretty early in life, and this one looked like it was going to be bad. Maybe it would be smart to check the local TV station and see if any warnings had been issued.
Before I could suit action to thought, Nick captured my attention. He’d stepped out of the woods behind the barn and was heading in my direction, pausing now and then to look up. I went to meet him and we converged at the corner of the yard, both of us staring at the sky like two old farmers anxious for their crops.
“What do you think?” I asked him. The world around us was turning a sickly green color and the wind was picking up.
“It doesn’t look good. Where’s your family?”
We watched a streak of neon purple lightning flash across the sky while my nervousness increased. “They aren’t here. I’m getting worried, Nick.”
“Come on. Let’s head for the cellar.” He put his hand on my back and herded me toward our concrete hole in the ground.
“But what if they don’t make it home in time?”
“There’s nothing we can do about it, and they would want you out of danger.” He lifted the metal lid and laid it back against the ground, then descended the steps. There was the scrape of a match and the dim glow of the hurricane lamp filled the cellar before he rejoined me.
Together, we stood and watched the clouds roll and tumble across the sky. The wind began to howl, nearly lifting me off my feet with its violence, and the thunder was a constant, angry rumble, low and menacing. I was wiping the first splatter of rain off my arm when I saw the slender tail drop down, form a funnel and stretch toward the ground.
“Oh, my God,” I whispered.
Nick’s head whipped around and the next thing I knew, his arm was around my waist and he was dragging me down the stairs. The cellar door slammed shut and he shot the lock into place with a frantic push.
“Down in the corner! Hurry!”
We had both grown up hearing stories about twisters driving two-by-fours through concrete cellar walls, so I obeyed automatically. Nick crouched beside me, his arms wrapping around me protectively. I had always sworn that if I were ever interviewed on TV after a storm, I would not be one of those people who say things like, “It sounded just like a freight train running through my house.” But now I knew why they said it. There wasn’t another way to describe the sound that came anywhere close to what I was hearing. It seemed to go on forever, getting louder and louder every second that passed. When the cellar door started banging and shimmying in its frame, I screamed and did my level best to crawl inside Nick.
He was holding me so tightly that, if I hadn’t been scared out of my mind, I’d have worried about my ribs.
“It’s okay,” he murmured in my ear. “You’re gonna be alright. It’s almost over.” But I could feel him trembling against me.
The metal door stopped its dancing and settled back into place, and the noise faded away into the distance.
I raised my head and looked up at him, not quite ready to believe the nightmare had ended and we were still alive. He wiped my tear-damp cheek with his thumb.
“It’s okay,” he whispered again. An odd look lingered in his gray eyes as he gazed down at me, but I didn’t know he was going to kiss me until his lips touched mine.
I’d never been kissed before, and I doubted Nick had ever kissed anyone. At first, it was hesitant and clumsy, eager and endearing. It was a spontaneous reaction to our brush with danger, and while neither of us was experienced, we had instinct on our side.
My arms slid up until they curved around his neck, and when I felt his tongue touch my lips, it never occurred to me to resist. This was Nick. My Nick. A low, agonized sound came from somewhere deep inside him as I returned the kiss, and his hand moved over my back, under my shirt.
I don’t know how long it lasted. It could have been hours and still not been enough to suit me. But suddenly he went still.
“No.”
The word ripped from his throat with more pain than I’d ever heard from someone his age, and I found myself alone on the cold, damp floor. Confused, my senses spinning from so many different emotions in such a short space of time, I clambered to my feet.
“Nick?”
He didn’t answer me. He was fumbling desperately with the lock on the door. When it finally opened, he bolted. By the time I stepped outside, he was vanishing into the woods. He’d left me all alone, something the Nick I knew would never have done under circumstances such as these.
Upset, uneasy, and scared all over again, I turned on my shaky legs to look around me. The house still stood, but the windows were shattered and bare patches of plywood showed through missing shingles. Debris littered the yard; downed tree limbs, rocks, and some boards that looked as if they might have come from the front wall of the barn, were nearly covered by a million leaves. And the tree that had held my swing was gone, the twisted remains of its stump lying beside a huge gaping hole, roots exposed like skeletal arms unearthed from the grave. The rain fell in a fine mist now, and in the west the sun was already breaking through the clouds.
I stood there, frozen with shock, as Mama’s car peeled into the driveway on two wheels, followed hard by the Judge’s truck, then Aunt Darla’s sedan. I was passed around and hugged and fussed over until neighbors started to arrive and everyone went to check out the damage. The general consensus was that we were lucky the tornado had never reached the ground. It had only hovered in the air above the farm before being sucked back into the clouds.
Someone noticed I was shaking and a blanket was located and draped around my shoulders. Bobb
y Donovan, a local contractor and our nearest neighbor, had been one of the first on the scene. He was busily writing up repair estimates, conferring occasionally with Pete Townsend, our insurance agent, until they reached a mutually satisfying dollar amount, and Pete wrote the Judge a check. The repair work would start first thing in the morning.
But no amount of repair was going to fix the hollow feeling inside me. Something was desperately wrong for Nick to abandon me the way he had, and I was afraid of what he’d say the next time I saw him. I didn’t know it would be two weeks before he set foot on the farm again, or that he’d ignore me so completely when he finally did. It was as though I’d ceased to exist for him, and nothing in my life had ever hurt me as much as that did.
June faded into the hottest July on record. The windows in the house were replaced, the roof re-shingled, and new carpets were put down to replace the water-soaked ones. The hole where the sweet gum tree had been was filled in and smoothed over, and grass was already growing over the scar. The Judge even made me a new swing in another tree, but it was never the same and I only used it enough to keep from hurting his feelings.
Nick started using his room in the barn again, but he waited until all the lights were out in the house before he’d show up. The first time I slipped out to talk to him I found the door locked, and he wouldn’t answer me when I called to him.
It was right after that painful discovery when I began keeping a journal. Somewhere in my mind, I thought that if I got the entire thing down on paper, maybe I could figure out what I’d done wrong and fix it so Nick would talk to me again. But I’d filled half the leather-bound notebook and was no closer to understanding than I’d been when I started.
I was miserable. My whole world had been turned upside down and a huge chunk torn out of it. Weepy and depressed, I pushed my hair behind my ear and stared down at the journal pages lying on the kitchen table.
“I bought some of those cookies you like,” my mother said. She was standing at the kitchen sink, hands buried in suds as she washed the lunch dishes.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re never hungry anymore. If you don’t start eating you’ll dry up and blow away.”
I could feel her gaze on me when I didn’t answer.
“Did you and Nick have a fight?”
“No.”
“Then what’s going on? He never comes to the house anymore, and you’re acting like someone kicked your favorite cat.”
“I don’t know, Mama. Why don’t you ask Nick?” And if she got an answer, I hoped she’d share it with me. I glanced out the back door in time to see him disappear into the shed. Every part of me surged with the longing to join him, make him talk to me, but I knew at the first sight of me he’d leave. The only time he tolerated my presence in the shed these days was when the Judge was helping him, and even then he acted like I wasn’t there.
“I’m going to my room.” I closed the journal and went upstairs, determined not to cry again. It would only make Mama give me third degree and there was nothing I could tell her.
And so it continued for the rest of the summer. It was worse than the week before midterms in fourth grade. At least I known that week would end when Mooney killed me. Now I had no hope at all. Nick hated me and he didn’t show any signs of getting over it in the near future.
It was almost time for school to start when the entire thing came to a head. The resulting emotional explosion came damn near to making both Nick and me casualties of my stupidity. But something had to give. I just didn’t know it was going to be me.
Five
Over the summer, Uncle Vern and the twins had acquired the habit of having dinner with us every Friday evening. After the meal, everyone would adjourn to the front porch for a little conversation, relishing that brief period of time when the sun was low enough to cool things off, but full dark with its hordes of blood-thirsty mosquitoes hadn’t yet arrived.
The more I was around Uncle Vern, the better I liked him. The way he listened to me and took everything I said seriously reminded me of the Judge. And when I told a joke, he laughed in all the right places.
The twins I still wasn’t sure about. Until that night, I’d always taken Nick’s advice, never letting them catch me alone. But I was in a funky mood that particular Friday. For the last few days anger had been building inside my chest. I was tired of mooning around, worrying about Nick when he’d made it so clear that he didn’t care a flip about me.
That’s why, when the twins asked if I wanted to go to the Burger Zone with them, I turned pleading eyes on my mother. “Can I?”
She hesitated, warring emotions speeding across her face. She didn’t approve of kids hanging out at the Burger Zone, thought it was asking for trouble. But on the other hand, this was the first time I’d shown any interest in life since the tornado.
“Please?” I added, for good measure.
“Well, I suppose it would be okay this once.” She glanced at the boys. “You two watch out for her and don’t keep her out too late.”
“Yes, Ma’am. We won’t.”
Casey grinned at me and held out his hand. “Let’s go, Squirt.”
The Judge’s jaw clenched, and from the way he glared at Mother I knew he would give her what-for when they were alone. He didn’t approve one bit of her letting me go.
I shoved my uneasiness aside and took Casey’s hand. Cody climbed into the driver’s seat and they squeezed me into the front between them.
“Where’s your boyfriend these days?” Casey asked.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“You two have a fight?”
“No. He’s just not my boyfriend.”
We were barely out of the driveway when he reached under the seat and lifted a bottle from the floor. “Drink?”
I eyed the whiskey. Once upon a time, Nick would’ve had a fit if he’d known what I was doing. That was enough to make me reach for the bottle, defiance lifting my chin. Nick didn’t rule my life anymore.
“Sure. Why not?” I held the rim to my lips and took a big slug. Both boys laughed when I choked, tears filling my eyes as I gasped for breath. From my throat to my stomach, it felt like I’d swallowed liquid fire.
“You’ll get used to it,” Cody said. “Take another one.”
The second time, I discovered that if I held my breath and swallowed like I was taking medicine, I could keep from gagging. The flames in my stomach settled into a pleasant pool of warmth that spread to my arms and legs. This wasn’t so bad, after all.
The boys passed the bottle around a few more times before we got to the Burger Zone, and I was feeling a bit light-headed as they parked.
The Burger Zone was the place for kids to hang out in Morganville on the weekends. It was a small, seedy dive, with a few tables inside that no one ever used. All the action went on outside, in the parking lot. Jenna was going to be green with envy when she found out I’d been there with Casey and Cody. She’d been nagging her father to let her hang out at the Zone for the last year. So far, he hadn’t given in.
The place was cram-packed with cars when we arrived, and several had their doors open, the radios turned up full blast. The roar of conversation died away for a second when I climbed out of the car behind Casey, but I was too busy trying to control my rubbery legs to pay much attention. Cody put his arm around my waist to steady me.
Apparently the twins had been here often enough to develop a lot of friends, because they surrounded us now, boys and girls both, mostly seniors.
“What did you bring Miss Prim and Proper for?” Devon Garner gestured at me.
“She’s okay.”
I didn’t check to see which of my cousins had given me that ringing accolade. “What’s wrong with me?” I glared at Devon.
He grinned, his gaze skimming down my body. “Maybe nothing. You gonna share that bottle, Miss Priss?”
Devon was a good looking kid, blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and the star player on our basketball team. And h
e’d never so much as glanced in my direction before.
“Nope,” I told him. “It’s mine.” I took another long drink and his grin widened. The world was spinning around me, but for the first time since Nick had kissed me, I was relaxed and semi-happy. So much so that a giggle escaped my lips. This’ll show him, I thought.
Devon pried me out from under Cody’s arm. “Tell you what, Miss Priss. Dance with me and maybe I’ll share my bottle with you.”
I squinted at the green bottle he was holding, trying to focus on the label. “What is it?”
“Wine.”
Hadn’t I heard somewhere that wine wasn’t as strong as whiskey? From the way I felt, it might be a good idea to cut back a bit.
“Okay.” I shoved the whiskey at Cody and reached for the wine.
“Not so fast. Dance first, drink later.”
“You’re stooping kind of low on the food chain these days, aren’t you, Dev?” The question came from a chunky blonde girl. Oh, lord. Piggy Treece. I might as well take an ad out in the local paper and save her the trouble of running her mouth about my drinking.
“It has its advantages,” he shot back. “As you should know.”
That sounded a bit odd to me, but then, everything sounded odd, and I couldn’t seem to stop giggling. Devon pulled me right up against his body, and I wondered why we were slow dancing when it was a fast song. Oh, well. One was as good as another.
I dropped my head onto his chest and closed my eyes. Then promptly opened them again, wide, when bright lights spun behind my eyelids in a mad circle.
“Whoa,” I murmured. Couldn’t make that mistake again. I pushed away from Devon and yanked the bottle from his hand. Now this stuff wasn’t half bad. At least, not compared to the whiskey. I raised the bottle and took another long drink.
“Hey, save some for the rest of us.” He retrieved his liquor from my limp hand.
“I think I need to sit down,” I confided.
“Sure thing.” His hands went to my waist and he lifted me onto the hood of a car, and then stepped closer. He seemed to loom in front of me and I blinked several times to see if he’d go back to normal size. He didn’t.