“Hailey, I got you something at the store yesterday,” Gigi says when I come down to the kitchen on Friday morning.
Brad and I have been sneaking around for almost a week and so far, so good. Granted, there hasn’t been much sneaking because we have school and he has football. The only alone time we really have on weekdays is the ten-minute drive to school, and we can’t do anything in the car while he’s driving. Tomorrow is Saturday, though. Everything can change tomorrow since we have the entire day together.
“I don’t need anything,” I say to Gigi, giving her a confused look as I wonder what she got for me.
Shortly after I was placed here, Gigi gave me a notepad and told me to write down when I ran out of shampoo or bodywash or anything else. It seemed silly at the time, but I’m grateful she did because it’s much easier to write things on a piece of paper than to ask her directly. Then, once a week, always on Saturday afternoon, a bag magically appears in my bathroom with everything I need.
I still feel a little guilty when they spend money on me, but I always request the cheapest brand of anything and she usually gets it for me. Every now and again, she’ll throw in a nicer version of what I asked for or an unexpected surprise like nail polish. I complain, but she just shushes me and tells me they were on sale.
The problem is there’s nothing on my list right now, and it’s Friday. What in the world did she get me?
“This is something Gil and I thought you needed.” She reaches into a bag and pulls out a box. On the front of the box is a picture of a phone.
“What? No,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t take that.” It’s too much. They’re only supposed to pay for necessities. A phone is absolutely not necessary.
“We want you to have it. For emergencies. It’s just a cheap disposable phone, but we’ll feel safer knowing you have a way of getting in touch with us if something happens. I’ve already programmed in our numbers and Brad’s.”
She hands me the box, but I try to push it back to her.
“We won’t take no for an answer,” she says, forcing it into my hands. “If it makes you feel better, just hold on to it and only use it if you’re in trouble.”
I’m about to protest again, but Brad enters the kitchen. He takes one look at the box and says, “It’s about time.”
“Okay, I’ve gotta run. I’m already late,” Gigi says, heading out the door and leaving me no choice but to accept it.
Brad and I both grab a quick breakfast for the road, then load into his car and head to school. In the car, I open the box, pull out the phone, and take a look at all the features. Besides talking to people, I can text, take pictures, and get online. This isn’t just an emergency phone.
“Call me,” Brad says, “so I’ll have your number.”
While I’m doing that, he says, “This will definitely make things easier.”
“What do you mean?”
“We can text between classes, before practice, late at night when we’re supposed to be in our rooms.” He gives me a mischievous grin, and I get the sense he’s not talking about innocent texts.
“It’s for emergencies only.”
“She only said that to make you feel better. She’s not going to care if you use it regularly.”
“I doubt she’d want me to use it for the kind of texts you’re talking about.”
He grins at me again. “They don’t monitor my phone. I’m sure they won’t monitor yours, so they’d never know.”
“I am not sending or receiving sexy texts on a phone your parents bought for me.” No way. Never gonna happen.
He laughs, then squeezes my knee.
We talk about other topics until he pulls into the lot at school. After climbing out of the car, we walk to the edge of the parking lot, where Adam and Abbie are waiting for us.
“Give them your phone so they can add their numbers.”
“You got a phone?” Abbie asks. “Finally! It’s like you’ve been living in the Dark Ages.”
“It’s only for emergencies,” I say as I hand it to her. She adds her information, then passes it to Adam as we walk into school.
The day goes by like any other day until lunchtime. While I’m sitting at a table with Brittany and her friends, we hear a quiet buzzing sound. Brittany reaches into her bag, grabs her phone, but tosses it back in. “Not me,” she says. Everyone else does the same, then looks at me.
“It’s not me. I don’t have a—” I stop myself. I do have a phone. But who would be calling me?
I pull my backpack onto my lap and search around inside. I have to open three pockets before I find where I stashed it. Flipping it open, I see I have a text. From Brad.
I’m sitting with you at lunch today.
My head snaps up, and I search his usual table. He’s not there yet.
No, you can’t, I type. He’s told me this every day this week and I give him the same answer every time. Changing our lunchtime routine is about the least secretive way to have a secret relationship. You’d think a self-proclaimed James Bond would realize that.
Why not?
I roll my eyes. He knows why. Instead of explaining it to him for like the fifth time, I decide to go with something else. It will upset the delicate balance of this school.
What?
It’s like when they introduced goats into the Galapagos and almost killed off all the giant tortoises.
What?
I glance up again and see that he’s sitting at his usual spot now, staring at his phone.
I saw a special on TV last night, I type.
Am I the goat or the tortoise?
Goat.
He smiles as he types. I’d rather be the tortoise.
You can’t be the tortoise. You’re the invasive species trying to take over our niche in this corner of the cafeteria.
I’m so not following you.
You should’ve watched the special.
He laughs and shakes his head. The Panthers were playing.
This phone is for emergencies. I gotta go.
He looks up and meets my eyes for a moment before focusing back on his phone. So you don’t want me to sit with you?
Nope.
That hurts.
Get used to it.
I stop my rapid-fire texting and look up to take a bite of my hamburger, only to find five pairs of eyes staring at me.
“You’re smiling like a madwoman,” Brittany says. “When did you get a phone and who are you texting?”
“This morning,” I reply. “Gigi gave it to me.”
“Whoa.” Her eyes grow wide. “That’s huge.”
“It’s just for emergencies.”
She shakes her head. “That means they see you sticking around for a while. If they considered you a short-timer, they wouldn’t have gotten you a phone.”
I take another bite as her words sink in. Is there more behind the phone? Is it some symbolic gesture of them accepting me into their family? I didn’t see it that way, but Brittany makes a good point. If so, then this is huge. I feel like I was just chosen first in a game of dodgeball or something, only that never happened and this is way more important than a stupid game.
“Who are you texting?” she asks again.
“Just a friend,” I say, trying to hide my smile.
She automatically looks to Brad’s table, where he’s typing on his phone. “Uh-huh,” she says, turning back around and stuffing a carrot stick into her mouth.
The phone buzzes again. I look down at the display. Want to meet behind the gym after school?
Why?
I want to see you before practice.
Why?
I miss you.
I’ll see you tonight.
That’s too long.
I can’t miss my bus.
It takes a moment before his next reply. I glance in his direction and see him whispering to Adam only moments before a new message appears. Adam will drive you home. He’s got a meeting and will be leaving around 3. I told him you had to make up a test.
I take another bite and chew thoughtfully. It would be nice to have a little alone time with him. We haven’t really had that since our kiss last Saturday. It’s actually kind of ridiculous that we agreed to a secret relationship but have done nothing secretive in six days.
OK, I finally type.
:)
As soon as the final bell rings, I bolt out of class, make a quick stop at my locker, and then race toward the gym. I exit out the back door and find him already waiting there, casually leaning against the wall.
This spot is the perfect place to be alone. There are large recycling dumpsters on two sides of us, the brick wall of the gym on the third, and nothing but pine trees on the fourth.
“Nice place,” I say, stepping beside him. “Very private.”
“Exactly.”
He grabs me by the waist and pulls me to him, his mouth moving toward my ear, then over my jaw. “I can’t believe you called me a goat,” he whispers before covering my lips with his own. His hands slide down and cup my butt.
“Goats are very cute,” I whisper back, as I think about whether this is a good idea. Sure, it’s private, but someone could walk by and see us. Unfortunately, the feeling of my body pressed against his makes rational thought difficult.
“This is a bad idea,” I murmur, my hands sliding up his face and into his hair.
“I know.”
“We should stop.”
“In a minute.”
His tongue darts into my mouth, surprising me. He must notice my reaction because he pulls away slightly and focuses his kissing on my lower lip instead.
I smile against his mouth. Brad’s always so confident and sure of himself. It’s cute to see him acting a little shy.
“Why are you smiling?” he asks.
“You’re cute.”
“Like a goat?”
I laugh. “A shy goat.”
“What makes you think I’m shy?”
“Because I got like less than a second of tongue action.”
He grins down at me. “That’s because you seemed unsure. You’re shy, not me.”
“Reeeally?” I say, drawing out the word. I’ve done this hundreds of times. How many times has he done it? A few?
He nods a couple times, a half grin on his face revealing his dimple.
I grab onto his shirt and drag him back to me, letting my own tongue show him exactly how wrong he is. He responds immediately, deepening our kiss and making my knees go weak. He may not have much experience, but he knows what he’s doing.
He really, really knows what he’s doing.
“I take it back,” I whisper when we come up for air.
“I’m not cute?” he asks.
I grin at him, but before I can say anything, a beeping sound comes from somewhere near my ear. Brad reaches to his wrist and pushes a button on his watch.
“One minute until I need to get dressed for practice,” he whispers.
“You set an alarm?”
“I was worried I’d lose track of time with you.”
I laugh at his answer. Always practical Brad.
We make the most of our last minute and then reluctantly say bye to each other. The good news is we found another safe place to be alone together. The bad news is the more we kiss, the more I want him, which is only going to make things harder.
I slowly walk to the parking lot, enjoying the giddy-light-headed-mushy feeling Brad brings out in me. I know I’m smiling uncontrollably, but I don’t care. There’s no one around to notice, and I want this feeling to last as long as possible.
“You might want to brush your hair,” I hear from behind me in a familiar voice. I spin around to find Abbie there, wearing a grin. “It looks like you fell asleep on your desk.”
My hand flies to my head, smoothing down the long strands. “Yeah … um … study hall…” I did fall asleep in study hall, but I’m sure that’s not the reason my hair is a mess. It’s much more likely Brad’s fingers played a role.
She steps to my side. “I hate when that happens,” she says with a smile. “How’d that test go?”
“Oh … fine.”
“Good. Let us know if you ever need another ride home. We’re always happy to help our friends.” She smiles at me again, even larger this time, and I get the vague feeling there might be more to her words.
I swallow and nod, afraid to say anything else.
“Hey, do you want to study together for our geometry quiz? I didn’t do so hot on the last one.”
“Um, sure, but you’ll probably want Brad there, since he tutors me. He’s the only reason I’m passing that class.”
She gives me a sideways glance. “He tutors? When did that start?”
“Right after I moved in. At least for me. I—I don’t know if he tutors anyone else.” Although I doubt it. With school and football and trying to make the most of our alone time, he wouldn’t be able to fit it in.
“Jeez, when a guy’s practically your second big brother, you’d think you’d know this kind of stuff. I’ve been killing myself in that class for months! He so owes me,” she says, shaking her head but still grinning. Despite all their bickering, they really do care for each other, and for the first time ever, I kind of wish my half sister was still around, although I realize it’s a completely selfish wish.
“He especially owes you after reading your diary,” I point out. “That was really low.”
“Right? I still need to get him back for that. You gotta let me know if you find any dirt on him, okay?”
“I’m not sure there is any dirt on him.”
“That’s the problem,” she groans, linking her elbow through mine and leading me toward Adam’s car.
A few minutes later, Adam meets us and then they drive me back to the Campbells, no one discussing further why I need a ride, although both of them offer to do it again anytime I want. It’s almost like I gained not only a family with the Campbells, but an extended family with Adam and Abbie.
Maybe I don’t need my half sister after all.