Tuesday Afternoon: April 12th
We hadn’t had a chance to tell Alex we were done, and I’d only caught a glimpse of him in the school on Monday. He’d winked at me, making me want to retaliate by kicking him in the shins. But I’d promised Gin I’d be cool. Although the thought of the look on his smug face when we told him we were out made me smile.
One more class and then it would be time. We were meeting at Gin’s as a group.
My feet slowed as I approached my locker and saw the figure standing next to it. Fat tears rolled down Marisa’s face as she stood by her locker before our final class of the day. I glanced at her as I swapped textbooks between my locker and bag.
She hiccupped. “Do you have any tissues?”
“Umm…” I wanted to tell her to shove her tears where the sun doesn’t shine, but instead I handed her a packet of tissues from my locker.
“Thanks.”
“Fail a test?” I asked. Last time I’d seen Marisa bawl it’d been when she failed an Algebra exam. Again. During her second year of the same math class. The one I’d passed in the eighth grade.
“No.” Marisa blew her nose loudly, causing my whole body to cringe. “It’s been a bad few days. We had to come home from Disneyworld early because someone broke into our house. My parents planned the vacation for years.”
“That sucks.”
“They stole my favorite CD. The Veg at Warrior Rock.”
I turned to face my locker, and reached inside like I was looking for something to hide my smile from Marisa. Really? The Veg? They’re horrid. Alex must have taken that. I wouldn’t have touched it. A CD? Who buys them anymore? All of my music is on my laptop, tablet, or phone.
“Do you want the rest of this pack back?” Marisa offered the yellow and orange packet back to me.
“Nah, you keep it.”
“You’re so sweet.” She tried to shove the package into the pocket of her khaki skirt. When it stuck, half-in and half-out, she looked down at her leg.
“And I have a run in my favorite scarlet tights!” She broke into fresh tears. Good thing she kept the package of tissues.
“I’m sure things will get better,” I said. I debated patting her on the pink-button-down covered shoulder, but instead I grabbed my leather backpack, closed my locker with a definite thump, and walked down the hallway. I could feel the spring in my step, but then a stray thought took hold in the center of my mind.
What about this made me happy? Why would I celebrate Marisa’s misery? What had she ever done to me, except annoy me with peppy hellos? Her stupid tights? The high-pitched giggle? Had her family really planned this vacation for years? Marisa hadn’t talked about traveling before and the girl talked about everything, like spending her summer weekends camping with her family.
My steps slowed. When I thought of the burglaries, had I really felt happy? Joyful? Or had that sense of satisfaction come from a different place?
I remembered the simplicity of Marisa’s house. No designer anything. Basic furniture in one of the smallest houses on the block, like her family didn’t have a ton of money. Her mother worked, unlike my mother and Gin’s. My mother had rambled that Marisa’s mother worked to pay her school fees. Maybe it wasn’t a purposeful choice to live simply.
Maybe they couldn’t afford the stupid crap my parents love.
Maybe Gin was right; we’d gone too far. Maybe we were beginning to ruin things. Lives.
Maybe this wasn’t a game any longer.
***
Tuesday Evening
Gin’s family room looked out on the greenway, complete with maintained walking path, just like our house did. I took the trail to Gin’s, climbing over the chest-high fence and dropping into his backyard. I walked around a small vegetable garden, dead and empty at this time of year, on my way to the back door.
“You can always come to the front door. Ring the doorbell,” Gin’s dad said in his deep voice as he opened the door leading into the family room from the backyard.
As I shrugged, he added, “Or at least use the gate.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.
Gin’s father was dressed in athletic shorts and a muscle shirt. He sat down on the couch and resumed tying his basketball shoes.
The sound of nails on wood floors, combined with a periodic thumping noise of massive tail against hallway wall, heralded the arrival of perhaps the only one in the household I wanted to see other than Gin: Murphy, Gin’s yellow lab. His tail knocked a water bottle off the coffee table on his way to greet me. The bottle rolled under the couch and Gin’s dad swore.
“Hey, buddy,” I knelt down and ninety pounds of lab body-checked me. I wrapped my arms around him, rubbing his chest, as his tail continued to whip back and forth so hard his entire butt wiggled.
“Harper, you want a Coke?” Gin’s voice floated out from the kitchen.
“Yes,” I called back as Murphy licked the side of my face. Gin showed up a few moments later with two bottles of Coca-Cola, the kind in real glass bottles and made with sugar.
Gin’s mom is particular about that. No high fructose corn syrup is allowed in the house. And she thinks frozen food from Whole Foods and Trader Joes aren’t “bad” dinners, although she has to be careful and make sure the meals don’t contain dairy, or else she’ll kill Gin. I knew he was going to offer me a frozen burrito or kung pao chicken within the next two minutes. Or maybe he’d offer me a smoothie with hemp powder.
“I’ll be back after my game,” Gin’s dad said, and he glanced at me, and then back at his son. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Gin tilted his head and gave his father an exasperated look. “We have more friends coming over soon.”
“Don’t worry,” I added. “I’m not planning on getting pregnant. At least not until after prom.”
“Your mom will be home from her book club…sometime.” His voice trailed off as my words sunk in and he turned to me with wide eyes. I gave him my “I’m joking” smile. His eyes narrowed but then he gave me a rueful grin.
“My mom’s at the book club, too,” I said. I didn’t add that she’d complained this month’s host always skimped and bought cheap wine, so it might be an early night. I’d offered to take the cheapo-wine off her hands and she hadn’t thought it was funny. Gin’s dad looked away from me.
“Finish your homework.” He gave Gin a stern look.
Gin nodded as his father left. He waited until the door to the garage closed before he plopped down beside me and nuzzled his face into my neck.
“You know that look you gave your dad? After he told us to not be stupid?”
Gin sat back and looked at me with raised eyebrows.
“You totally looked like your dad just then. Is that why he named you junior?”
“Maybe he just loves the name Gordon,” Gin said before moving back to my neck.
“Gordon Issak Nabb, Junior,” I said as Gin pushed me down onto the couch cushions. “You’re being a naughty boy with your hands.”
“Will you shut up?” Gin’s kissed me, and as I responded, he started to feel more intense, almost desperate, as he slipped his hand up under my shirt. His fingers spread across the bare skin of my belly.
I pulled away. “The others will be here soon.” My voice was husky.
Gin’s voice was even huskier. “They can wait.”
I slid out from under Gin, who left his hand on my stomach.
“We should…You know…All of our friends are. Everyone else is. I want to. With you. Now. Anytime.”
I smiled to myself when I realized Gin was too distracted to speak in full sentences.
“We will when the time is right,” I said. I traced the pattern of the green-and-beige area rug in the middle of the room with my eyes while Gin fidgeted next to me.
“Ever thought about feeling ready soon?” He asked, but his voice was hopeful, versus pushy or angry or both. I wanted to reach for him, pull back to me, feel him against me again. But even though I’d thought about it, and I mean it, something kept me back.
“Shouldn’t we practice what we’re going to say to Alex?” I asked.
“Just throw a cold glass of water on me next time instead of mentioning Alex,” Gin muttered.
The doorbell rang, and we made eye contact. “That could be the devil himself,” I said.
“Ha, ha.” Gin adjusted his pants before going to answer the door, and I picked up my bottle of Coke. Murphy stuck his head in my lap with a hopeful look in his deep brown eyes.
“Not you, too,” I said as he rested his head on my knee. I rubbed behind his ears. “It’s not that I don’t want to, you know. I’m just not ready for anything other than scratching your head right now. Even if everyone I know wouldn’t have a problem giving you a belly rub anywhere in town.”
“S’up?” Benji and Paisley arrived in a cloud of strawberry-scented perfume that seemed to permeate from them both, although I doubted Benji dabbed it on himself. Paisley’s dress made her look like an ice cream sundae with its flouncy red polka-dots over white underskirt, so I guess the smell made sense.
“Hey, guys,” I said. Paisley came over to give me a hug and straighten my sweater. She gave me a wink as she pulled away.
“No, it was totally JV,” Alex said as he entered the room with Sarah, and his head was twisted to look over his shoulder. Gin followed along a few moments later with three bottles of Coke and a bottle of water.
Sarah took the water. “Coke has so many empty calories,” she said. I raised an eyebrow at her. If she was doing her running and strength workouts for soccer, one soda shouldn’t matter. She made a “what” gesture with her hands.
“But cola tastes so good,” Benji said and gave an exaggerated sigh as he popped open his bottle and took a swig.
Sarah rolled her eyes as she sat down across from me. Gin slid between me and Paisley, while Alex took the solo La-Z-Boy chair as if it were a throne. Benji looked at the empty seat next to Sarah and instead perched on the sofa arm next to Paisley. She promptly put her elbow on top his leg and leaned against him. He gripped the back of the couch with his hand.
“So why are we meeting tonight?” Alex asked.
“We have something to talk about,” Gin said. He glanced at me, and then at Alex. “As a group.”
And so it began.