Chapter Seven

 

I told Mom that Catherine's parents were going to be at the party, and thankfully she didn't call to check. And because Mom knew Catherine from my team, I didn't even have to mention that it was Bradley who'd asked me to come.

It took me an hour to decide what to wear. I avoided the issue at first, taking a shower to shave the cactus spines off my legs, and then stood in front of my closet, considering.

Normally if I was hanging out with a guy, I'd call Haylee to talk about wardrobe choices. Instead, I tried on half my wardrobe and finally settled on a pair of skinny jeans and a red, fitted sweater. I put on lipstick and French-braided my hair. Haylee had taught me how to do it myself by propping my elbows up on the headboard of my bed for support, but if she'd been there to do it for me, it would have looked classier. Then I went into the bathroom to look at myself in the full-length mirror.

Clearly I was trying too hard. Also, the braid puffed out over my ears, instead of lying down flat. I undid my hair and pulled it into a ponytail. Much more casual. Then I rubbed off half my makeup.

I stood, staring at myself in the mirror.

My neck prickled. The place behind me in the mirror was blank—nothing there but floor tiles and a fluffy pink towel. But I felt her all the same—Haylee's ghost. What are you doing, Kira? she asked. Do you like him?

"Of course not," I whispered to her.

I could feel Haylee's smirk even though I couldn't see her. She wasn't sure about that.

Neither was I.

I opened the bathroom door and rushed out, shutting myself back in my room, hoping she couldn't float through walls. If the real Haylee were here, I knew exactly what she'd say. She'd want me to go hang out with Bradley so she could savor every detail when I got home. She'd consider it dating-by-proxy. My hanging out with Bradley was the next best thing to seeing him herself.

So I wasn't betraying her. I wasn't.

If only I could convince her ghost of that.

I left for the party after dark. Mom offered me a ride, but Catherine only lived six blocks away, and I didn't need Mom witnessing the total parental lack, so I told her I'd walk. I ducked out before she decided to give me a serious talk about rape safety or teen drug use.

When I got to Catherine's, I could hear the bass from the street. Stephanie Nye sat in the window seat with her back to me, leaning over so far that I could see her butt crack. The front door had a note saying to come in, probably because they couldn't hear the doorbell over the music.

I opened the door and wandered through the entryway toward the living room. I could hear people talking over the music, which at this volume meant the house had to be packed. In the living room, groups clustered around chairs, a few people sitting on them and the rest on the floor at their feet. Lexa Io draped herself over the back of a couch with her breasts hanging in Greg Anzano's face.

I was really surprised to see not only Stephanie but Fiona Gil and a couple other popular girls. Catherine was cool, but she was more of a floater, drifting between circles. That put her a lot higher on the popularity scale than someone like me, but not high enough to be really popular, like Stephanie and Fiona were.

Katie from the softball team leaned against the far wall with some other girls. She waved at me and I waved back like we were friends, but she was the one who had called me a dyke last season, so I wasn't eager to hang out.

Fiona and Stephanie were staring at me. Fiona leaned over to Steph—whose skirt couldn't have been more than eight inches long—and said something in her ear. I could imagine what she was saying: how can she be here when her best friend just died? Katie was staring at me, too, like I was some exhibit at a zoo. Next on our tour, Kira Turner, who recently lost her best friend. Any time now we should see tears; those are a normal stage of the grieving process.

Ugh. I was being just like Haylee, thinking everyone was talking about me because of Haylee's death, when they were probably just making fun of my outfit. Most people had stopped staring at me by now, but I was still standing awkwardly in the hall. Spencer Mann came up behind me and pulled me into the living room. He turned to me and opened his big mouth. The music was so loud in here that I was amazed I could hear him.

"Hey, Kira, glad you could make it. Have a seat." He was using his radio voice—the one he used when he wanted to hold the attention of the entire room, which for Spencer was practically all the time. He sat down next to Fiona, who looked at him like he was barely tolerable.

Stephanie pawed Spencer's arm. Every statement she made came out like a question. "I still can't believe you didn't bring the beer?" she said. "You so totally fail?"

"Hey, who made it my job?" Spencer asked. "I'm here to provide the entertainment!"

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "I said you were the beer man? You said it was no problem?"

I leaned in, trying to get into the conversation, but Fiona glared at me before I could open my mouth.

"Didn't your friend just die?" she asked.

The only way to shut Fiona up was to be as far in her face as she was in mine. I stared her right in the eyes. "She's the one who's dead," I said. "Not me."

Fiona's eyebrows shot up. She'd drawn one on darker than the other.

And she actually looked impressed.

"Hey, where's your boyfriend, Fiona?" Spencer asked.

Stephanie rolled her eyes "You mean her totally ex-boyfriend?"

"Shut up," Fiona said. I could tell by the look on her face that in her mind, he wasn't totally ex. I could bet she didn't know I'd gone out with Bradley the day before, and I wasn't going to be the one to tell her.

At that point I was sure I'd made the wrong decision about coming to the party. I should have walked out the door when I had the chance. If I went to the bathroom and climbed out the window, would anyone even notice I'd gone?

Then Bradley walked in the front door. My stomach fluttered. Jeez, Kira, I thought. He'll probably ignore you. He probably just asked you out of pity.

Fiona watched Bradley even closer than I did. She leaned forward in her chair and squeezed her shoulders together, so her breasts practically popped out of her tube top. I seriously thought Spencer was going to wet himself, but instead he crossed an arm over his crotch.

Bradley walked right over to our group, but he was looking at me, not Fiona. The fluttering in my stomach turned into a frantic crawl, and I wondered if some anxiety monster was going to crawl out of my chest like in that movie with the alien.

Bradley shouted at Spencer over the music: "Hey man, scoot down."

Away from me. He meant scoot down away from me.

He hadn't forgotten me.

Spencer moved over immediately, without complaint, and I moved slightly to my left so that Bradley could sit down between us. Bradley's thigh pressed up against mine, and Fiona gave me a look of death. Maybe she was the one who was going to sprout the alien. No doubt it would devour me on the spot.

Spencer turned to Bradley and said, "What's up?" He used a genuine tone with Bradley, because Bradley was so much more popular.

"Not much," Bradley shouted, putting his arm around my shoulders and squeezing me closer to him. I hadn't really expected that. I could feel both Fiona and Stephanie glaring, so I tried to avoid looking at them.

Catherine came around the corner. Her blond hair cascaded in tight, frizzy curls down her back. During softball season, she always kept it pulled up. She looked straight at me and skipped over to the stereo, turning it down. The subwoofer on the floor still pounded with the beat, but my ears rang a little with the sudden decrease in noise. "Kira!" she shouted. "You made it!"

Catherine hadn't ever looked so happy to see me in my life. She didn't seem to remember that she hadn't invited me. Did she feel sorry for me?

But then she sat down on the arm of the couch and gave Bradley this big, toothy smile.

No. She wasn't even thinking me. She was eyeing the guy with his arm around me. And somehow, inexplicably, some impulse in my gut shouted mine.

Bradley returned Catherine's smile. "Hey," he said. "Nice house."

"Thanks," Catherine said, as if she could take credit for it.

Now Stephanie turned her glare on Catherine, and Fiona stood and stalked off.

I couldn't say I was sad about that.

"So, have you started training for the season yet?" Catherine asked me.

I shrugged. "Sort of." One night of pitching didn't really amount to training, but I wasn't going to announce that I'd done nothing in front of Bradley.

Bradley smirked. "Yeah, you two better start early. The softball team needs as much practice as they can get."

"We could beat you any day," Catherine said.

"Please. You throw like a bunch of girls."

"We are a bunch of girls," I said. "So?"

Bradley had this wide grin, and he glanced in the direction Fiona had gone and started rubbing my arm.

Oh, no. Was this all about her? Had this always been all about her?

Catherine laughed. "Yeah, really. You wouldn't have a chance against us."

Mr. Varsity Freshman could probably play in circles around both of us, but I wasn't going to come to his defense.

Catherine started jabbering away to Bradley about playing first base, since they had that position in common. Stephanie got up to join Fiona in the hall. I could see the two of them glaring at me from the edge of my vision, but I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of noticing they were there.

Bradley's hand felt like it was starting to wear the skin off my arm, since he was still rubbing the same spot. And then he said in my ear, "Do you think it's hot in here?"

I did, but I wasn't sure it had anything to do with the room. So I said, "Yeah, I guess."

And he said, a little louder but still clearly to me, "Let's go outside for a while."

The room got hotter.

I knew I shouldn't go. But I wanted out of there, away from Fiona and Stephanie, and Catherine, and the unrelenting beat of the music, which matched a growing pounding in my head. I did want to go outside.

So I said, "Okay."

Bradley smiled.

I looked down at Catherine as we stood up. "We'll be back in a little while," I said.

Catherine looked confused, and maybe a little bit hurt, but I stepped right by her and headed for the door. Bradley followed me, and when I turned around to look at him he was turned around looking at Fiona, who was glaring like a rabid cat, fangs and all.

Bradley grabbed the door for me, which was really awkward since he was standing behind me and had to reach across me. We stepped out into the night.

No one had turned on the porch light, and the sky was overcast and dark. Here we were. Me and Bradley. Alone, with only the still-audible beat pulsing behind us.

My heart beat overtime to match. "Did you want to come out here to talk about Haylee?" I asked.

He shook his head, and reached his hand under my elbow, guiding me closer to him. "Not unless there was something else you wanted to say."

Every thought whisked out of my mind, and I couldn't think of a single thing. And that's when I knew for sure that I wasn't there for Haylee anymore.

Bradley steered me toward the shadowed porch swing. A breeze blew across the front of the house, and I shivered.

Bradley ran a hand up and down my arm, which sprouted goosebumps, more from his touch than from the wind.

"Hey, are you cold?" Bradley asked.

"A little," I said.

I expected him to give me his windbreaker, but instead pulled me to him. We stood under the canopy of the swing, with the seat brushing our knees as it swayed with the wind. Bradley wrapped my arms around his waist, which felt taut under his T-shirt. Our stomachs pressed together, and he zipped his jacket against my back, so it held us together.

He had to be able to feel my heartbeat. I couldn't feel his over the pounding of mine. Wrapped in that way, my forehead rested naturally against his collarbone. My body knew how to fold against him, even if my brain was ringing five alarms telling me to get out of there.

"You'll warm up in a second," he said.

Did that mean he intended to let me go after that? No. It was a line. One he might have used on Fiona, or Haylee before me.

The pounding in my head faded into a fuzz, and I couldn't think of anything except the way Bradley's arms snaked around my waist, toying with the back of the waistband on my jeans. I'd listened to a thousand of Haylee's fantasies about those arms. But never, never had I put myself inside them.

I looked up at him to tell him to unzip the jacket, so I could get away from his warm body and think again, but when I did, Bradley's face moved closer and I realized that he was going to kiss me.

Words finally came to me: I'm not Haylee. But his lips were on mine before I could say it.

His mouth felt warm and uncomfortably wet, and his nose exhaled hot breath down my face and onto my neck. My goosebumps spread over my body, until every follicle stood erect.

I wondered if I could reach around and unzip his jacket from the back. But then a voice hissed from deep in the back of my brain: Don't be stupid. A boy is kissing you. You. So I tried to match the movements of Bradley's lips, but our mouths tangled together, off balance.

The flip-flopping of my stomach dropped several inches. He must know I had no idea what I was doing. Suddenly, the synchronized tonguings I'd seen him perform with Fiona seemed a lot more impressive—like an Olympic sport. As if on cue, Bradley shoved his tongue past my flailing lips and into my mouth. I could taste stale Doritos in his teeth.

The jacket pinned my elbows to his sides, cutting off my circulation. I slid my hands up inside the jacket and rested them on his shoulders so they stuck out like a chicken. Bradley's slobbering encompassed my chin, and I leaned my head away instinctively, tightening the collar of the jacket around both of our necks.

I squirmed. Bradley seemed to get the hint. He shifted toward the porch swing, pulling me with him. "Turn around," he said, sliding me around in the jacket and then sitting down on the swing, so I ended up sitting on his lap with his arms around me. The collar of the jacket was choking me a little, so I unzipped it a few inches. But I guess he didn't really get the hint, because he moved his face next to mine and kissed my cheek, migrating a little toward my ear. I felt his hands moving up inside the jacket toward my breasts, so I squeezed with my arms, trying to keep his hands down without him noticing I was doing it on purpose.

And then he scooted me farther up his lap, and I finally unzipped the jacket, fumbling with the bottom of the clasp. When I stood up, Bradley stood with me. My hands were shaking. I hoped he couldn't see that in the dark.

What was wrong with me? A boy finally kissed me, and now I was freaking out? But I thought kissing would be different—more romantic. I thought it would make me feel closer to him, not squirmy inside.

Bradley opened his mouth to say something, but the front door opened. Catherine stepped out onto the porch and I edged further away from Bradley. Too quickly. Her eyes got all wide and I wondered if she knew we'd been kissing. Was the slobber visible? I forced myself not to wipe my face.

"Hey," she said. "We're going to play some games if you guys want to come back inside."

Games. Like spin the bottle? I had to get out of here.

Bradley nodded at her. "We'll be right there." She looked at us for a second until she got the hint and went back in.

"I guess you better go back," I said to Bradley, after she was gone.

"You're not coming?"

I edged so far from him that I had to step down off the side of the porch, smashing some groundcover as I went. "No," I said. "I just want to go home."

"You sure?" Bradley asked.

"Yeah. You stay, though," I said. "I'll see you later."

"Sure," Bradley said, heading toward the door. "Later."

Then he went inside, just like that.

I stood in Catherine's foliage, alone in the dark. My hands were still trembling, so I shoved them deep into my pockets.

That, I said to myself, was supremely uncool. What must Bradley think of me? He must think I was a total spaz, that's what. I mean, kissing was supposed to be fun, wasn't it? He certainly seemed to have fun doing it with Fiona, so if there was a problem between the two of us, there was a good bet it was me.

Someone bumped into the door from the inside, and I heard laughter over the music. I backed onto Catherine's lawn, and turned and walked down to the sidewalk. I couldn't help thinking that Nick wouldn't have left me alone in the dark.

Nick wouldn't have kissed me, either.

I should have gone home, but instead I walked by Haylee's. I knew I couldn't go in, so I just stood on the sidewalk, looking up at Haylee's tree—a massive, gangly thing that shadowed the house from the street. Her mother hated it, but Haylee and Aaron both forbade her to call a tree-remover. It was the only thing they agreed on, and I was pretty sure that's why she let them have their way.

I stood on the sidewalk, holding my breath, looking for Haylee's ghost. I waited for the hairs to rise on the back of my neck, for the goosebumps I'd felt with Bradley to return. But if Haylee was there, she didn't make her presence known. I couldn't feel her watching me.

Maybe she'd given up on me. After what I'd done tonight, maybe she ought to.

As I looked up at Haylee's dark window, I wished I could take this memory of kissing Bradley and hand it over to her. I'd only called Bradley for her sake, after all. I never would have gone after him on my own. I wondered if she'd had a kiss just like that with him, if it had been painful and awkward, and made her want to die, because being with him wasn't what she'd thought it would be.

As I turned to walk home, I wanted to take one more detour, to walk by Nick's house, but I didn't. Haylee couldn't look out and see me, couldn't wonder why I was there. Nick could. And seeing him tonight would be too much. What if, in some bizarre moment of insanity, he decided to kiss me, too? Would he be able to taste Bradley on my lips, like a stale Dorito?

If kissing Nick was going to be as awkward as kissing Bradley, I'd pass.

Sometimes reality couldn't measure up to the dream.