ISLIPPED INTO MY chair in Spanish class just as the bell rang. I pulled out my textbook and dropped my backpack on the floor beside me. Mrs. Gonzalez read to us from our textbook. I followed along as she read, having been given the page number by her to turn to.
I turned to my right and saw Andy paging through his textbook. Ever since our disastrous date last month, which felt like it happened years ago, I’d been trying desperately to avoid him. Even though we had to sit next to each other in Spanish class I no longer passed notes with him, nor giggled at his jokes during class, as I had before our horrible date. I tried to keep my eyes straight ahead and avoid him catching my stare.
When I looked in his direction—for whatever reason, I didn’t know—he caught my eye.
Dang! I quickly looked down at my desk, embarrassed that he’d caught me looking his way. I wished Mike would come and distract me again. Why was I so attracted to this guy yet so repelled at our date? Or was I? It was tantalizing. I remembered the feeling of his lips on mine. Then his hands on my body. I’d come so close to being raped when Mike jumped in his alpha male dog form. Why was I so physically drawn to Andy?
Mrs. Gonzalez closed her textbook and set it on the desk behind her.
“Today we are going to break up into pairs to work on your project for the Spanish fair, which is two weeks from Friday.”
Oh, please don’t pair me with Andy.
She read off the partners and paired me with Andy.
Really? Now this is just downright torture. I slammed my textbook shut.
Mrs. Gonzalez shot me a look over her reading glasses. “Is there a problem, Miss Stanton?”
“No.” I slouched as low into my seat as I could, knowing I’d overreacted to our two names being announced together.
“Now, discuss your ideas for a project with your partner. Turn in your proposal at the end of class.”
I was not about to move my seat to get any closer to Andy. I couldn’t bear the thought of his scent.
Andy picked up his chair, slid it closer to mine, and sat beside me. I clenched my jaw. That’s close enough!
When I looked up at him, he had his arms crossed over his chest and was smirking as if he was quite happy with the situation.
“You are the last person in the world I want to talk to right now,” I shot at him.
“Are you sure? There must be some sinister dictator in the world who’s lower on your list than me.”
I had to admit, I loved his wit. “Don’t be too sure.”
“Look, I’m sorry about that night. But you did overreact a little, don’t you think?”
Well, Mike overreacted the way I should have overreacted, to be truthful. “To what? The wild dog saving my life or you taking advantage of me?”
“I apologize for that. I wish I hadn’t messed things up with you.” He unfolded his arms.
Now he was baiting me.
Why did I still feel so drawn to him—so undone when he was so close to me? My conscience said no; my body said yes.
“We need to start on the assignment.” As irritated as I was with the idea of working with him, I couldn’t afford to fail this class assignment and pull my grade point average down. I pulled a spiral notebook from my backpack, ripped out a sheet of paper, and handed it to him. “You write down your ideas, and I’ll write down mine. Then we can compare notes.”
I could hardly concentrate with his body so close to mine. His cologne made me dizzy as I inhaled its earthy, musky scent. He hardly scribbled on his piece of paper, so I knew I had to come up with something. I jotted down a couple of Spanish recipes I knew how to prepare.
Finally we exchanged pages. His said, “Give me another chance?”
Can’t he let it go?
I crumpled up the paper and threw it into the wastebasket behind my desk.
I glanced up at him and saw him grinning. “Let’s just focus on the assignment.”
“You still like me, don’t you?” I felt his hand on my knee.
I jerked away. “I do like you. But I can’t trust you.”
His eyes flashed green. I wondered if he’d gotten new contacts. From what I could recall he had blue eyes.
“Do you have any ideas for our Spanish project?”
“Your lips look delicious.”
I tried to ignore the queasy flutter in my stomach. “Do you want to cook some Spanish food for the fair?”
“I’d cook with you anytime.” His eyes clung to me like magnets.
“Ten minutes,” Mrs. Gonzalez shouted above the conversation in the room.
Andy leaned in. “Come over to my house Friday night for dinner. My parents will be home. Please?”
I wanted to punch him, but I also ached to kiss him. “I guess if your parents are going to be there, it’d be all right.”
He touched my hand with his fingertip. “Great. I’ll pick you up at six.”
“Now can we focus on the assignment?”
We came up with some food ideas for the fair. When the bell rang I stuffed my textbook and spiral notebook into my backpack, then went to the front of the room and handed Mrs. Gonzalez our proposal. I rushed out into the crowded hallway.
Christina ran up beside me. “Hey, what’s your hurry?”
I rolled my eyes. “I have to get away from Andy—and get to class.”
She grabbed my elbow to slow me down. “Why?”
“He scares me. I know he’s so wrong for me, but I find myself longing for him at the same time.”
“Why does he scare you?”
“Well, let’s just say he tried to push me a little further than I liked on our last date. It was awkward.”
Christina paused. “And . . . you want to go out with him again?”
“He asked me to have dinner with him and his parents.”
“That sounds interesting.” She winked. I knew I shouldn’t take advice—or rely on impressions from Christina. I tried to tell myself this date would be OK and was probably probing for Christina’s approval regardless of the fact that I knew she was the last person to be taking dating advice from.
“His parents will be home. So it should be safe, right?”
“Yeah, sounds legit to me.” I knew she’d say that.
We continued down the hallway and paused beside my locker. Vicki bumped into me. She flipped her perfectly curled hair. Her face had half a bottle of makeup on it. Her skirt was so short that if she bent over I was sure I’d see her bottom.
“You look tired, Liv. You sure you’ll be able to make it through volleyball practice today?”
Why not? I’m always on my game every day.
“Oh, I’m totally stoked today.”
Why would she say that?
“Coach said he’s going to let me start during the game this Thursday.”
What? I was the starting setter for the entire season. But Vicki had been begging Coach to let her start for a few games. My teammates had made sure I knew this whenever they heard her talking to Coach, asking for him to let her take my place more often.
Since our team was undefeated so far, scouts had started coming to our games. I had my heart set on the University of Delaware, which was known for its great volleyball program. If I could get a full ride from them, it would take a huge financial burden off my parents. Not only that—I’d be playing for one of the best teams in the country. I’d already sent in my application last month, and I was confident I’d be accepted.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Christina whispered. “Don’t let her shake you.”
“See you at the net,” Vicki cooed, then swaggered down the hallway.
Christina grasped my shoulder. “You’re ten times better than her. The scouts will see that.”
“Thanks. But I’m still nervous. Please pray for me, OK?”
Did God care if I played a good game of volleyball? Was that a selfish thing to pray about?
I had to call Kathryn! My “crazy” cousin. I’d almost forgotten. We’ll see—I had my doubts that she was truly crazy.
I waited until that evening, after finishing my homework, to look up her phone number in my contact list on my phone. I’d only called her once before from what I could recollect. Would she be suspicious of me calling since I never did on a regular basis? Would she open up to me?
God, please give me the right words to say to Kathryn. Lord, let her be open.
I dialed her number. I counted the rings, almost hoping she wouldn’t answer. On the third ring I heard, “Hello?”
“Hey—yeah—Kathryn, it’s your cousin, Liv. Have I called at a bad time?”
I’d heard from my mom that she was living at home again after spending time in the behavioral sciences unit, so I was relieved to find her available.
“No, Liv, what’s up? I haven’t heard from you since we saw each other at the family reunion last June.”
Did she suspect I was about to ask something crazy? She must be dumbfounded at me calling her so randomly.
“Listen, I know we don’t talk that often, but I have a really important item I need to talk to you about.”
There was a slight pause, then, “What’s up?”
“Well. I know you’ve . . . ” I paused to collect the right words “ . . . been judged by some to be crazy.” There was another brief pause, then an audible sigh.
I jumped in. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s OK. But . . . I think this may run in the family.” I decided to just lay it all out there. “I’m seeing angels and demons.”
“Oh—well—then yes, we do have something to talk about.”
My shoulders dropped as the tension released. “Listen, Kathryn, I don’t think you are crazy.”
“Well, that’s a first.”
“When you hear voices, what are you hearing?”
“I see and hear spirits.”
Bingo! “I see them too.”
She let out a deep breath. “Has anyone told you that you are crazy?”
“My mom,” I said in a sharp tone.
“Well, our moms were raised in the same church, same family. They didn’t believe in that stuff. So when it happens, they just attribute it to something satanic or mental instability.”
“I’m so sorry you’ve gone through what you have, Kathryn.”
“Thank you. I’ve felt very alone in this until now.”
“You’re not alone. I understand. I am praying for you. Would you pray for me? My parents are making me see a psychiatrist. I don’t want them to give me meds or put me in some behavior sciences unit at the hospital.”
Her voice was methodic and confident. “Because I know I’m not crazy, I’ve been able to make it. I know what I see and hear. God knows.”
Wow, she’d really learned to deal with this bravely. “Yes, He knows, and I pray that you will see this as a gift, not a curse. Call me anytime.”
“Thank you,” she replied. I heard more emotion in those two words than from any other time I’d heard them spoken.
“No problem.”
“Hang in there, cuz. I’ve got you covered with prayer—and surrounded by God’s angels.”
“You can be sure your prayers were answered even before you prayed them,” I said.
“Bye.”
“Keep in touch, Liv. Later.”
I sat in wonder, contemplating our conversation and the courage of my cousin. Would I be able to follow her example, or would I be a drooling mental patient eventually?