The next morning Hugo and three of Monica Gregory’s friends are hanging off her in the GS parking lot, all of them beaming ultrabrite smiles and giving off giddy vibes. Monica’s wearing this tiny red plaid kilt that makes her legs look almost as incredible as Colette’s and whispering into Hugo’s ear. He rubs her back as he nods and I’ve just shifted my attention away from them when I hear Monica squeal my name across the parking lot.
She motions towards me, urging me to join them. The picture all adds up to something but I don’t know what yet, only that Monica wants me to ask.
“Hey, what’s up?” I say as I catch up to them. Their sunny group smile (except for Hugo) makes me grin automatically back. The blonde on Monica’s left leans in close to her and waits for Monica to answer me.
“I promised myself I wasn’t going to spread this around until I knew for sure,” Monica declares, eyes sparkling. Then she impulsively grabs my hand to pull me closer still. “But you won’t tell anyone, right? Not if I say not to?”
“My lips are sealed,” I promise. The group of us heads towards the west doors, Hugo shooting me a hard look like I’m treading on his territory. You gotta be kidding, I think to myself. Monica Gregory is equal opportunity. Besides, I’m not into her like that; Colette’s been taking up most of my mental energy since I climbed into her car last night. I didn’t imagine that half kiss or how sexy she looked in a suit. I’m still in a fever nearly twenty-four hours later.
“Okay,” Monica says, tapping two fingers quickly to her lips like she can barely contain herself. She explains that she was at the airport with her mother last night, picking up her dad from a business trip, when this talent scout approached them and handed over her card. “My parents researched the agency when we got home and it’s one hundred percent legit.” Monica’s cheeks flush as she continues. “She thought I might be right for a lotto commercial they want to cast a teenage girl for. I mean, who knows if I’ll get it but just the idea, you know …”
I watch Hugo’s eyes twitch as Monica squeezes my arm and loops hers affectionately around it. “That’s fantastic!” I tell her. “You scored yourself an audition.”
“It looks that way,” Monica says happily.
“Fantastic,” I say for the second time. “You have to let me know how that goes.” Most commercials look only marginally more emotionally challenging than all the department store catalog work I did years ago (if I had to do one more photo shoot where the entire point was sticking my hands in my pockets and staring off camera, looking like I didn’t have a care in the world, I think I’d implode) but Monica’s clearly hyped about it and I wouldn’t turn down a credit like that myself. At least being in a commercial lets you breathe—and maybe even speak—on film.
“Thanks!” she tells me. “I’ll keep you posted.”
Our group begins to disperse as we walk through the west doors and I’m in the middle of saying goodbye to Monica when I spy Kat outside the cafeteria. She flashes me an urgent come here look but I take my time; I haven’t forgotten yesterday afternoon’s humiliation.
“Hey, Kat,” I say finally, ambling towards her. “What’s up?”
“This is totally depressing,” Kat declares, staring gloomily after Monica G. “Does she need everything handed to her on a silver platter?”
Seems like Monica’s secret news isn’t so secret after all, but my promised silence on the subject stops me commenting, and anyway, I’m not sure what Kat wants me to say. I tilt my head and shrug my knapsack higher onto my shoulder.
“Where’d you and Chris take off to yesterday?” she continues.
“Nowhere much.” How am I supposed to see Colette again without stalking her? That’s my big concern at the moment. I need another fix. My Kat baggage vanishes without a trace whenever I’m in Colette’s vicinity. I don’t need to be Dr. Phil to realize that’s a good thing.
“You know, I was serious about the physics assignment.” Kat gives me an earnest look, does a rapid scan of the hallway and then flicks her gaze back to me. “Sondra and I were working on it most of the night.” She runs her fingers through her bangs and adds, “This is so unfair. This Monica thing shouldn’t get to me, right? Why am I letting it get to me? It’s not that I even like Hugo anymore. I don’t even know what it is.”
So we’re back to Monica G, okay. “It’s like she’s being rewarded for screwing you over,” I say neutrally.
“That’s exactly what it’s like,” Kat says, wide-eyed.
It sounds like Kat’s not over Hugo, is what it sounds like.
“I know.” I nod and close my fingers tightly around my knapsack strap. “I gotta get to my locker, Kat. I’ll catch you later, okay?”
“Yeah. Bye, Mason.” She looks straight at me, just like the old Kat would, just like nothing ever happened between us. That could be a good thing, I guess, except that it all comes down to Hugo. I’m not important enough to stress over long-term; he is.
I go to homeroom and listen to the usual collection of announcements over the PA. You can hand in used cell phones, inkjet cartridges, iPods, digital cameras, laptop/notebook computers to Mr. Melesi in room 24 to help raise money for our local food bank. Students are reminded not to park in the designated staff areas in the back parking lot. If you do, expect to be towed. Attention, senior students traveling to Spain with Ms. Acosta: today’s lunchtime meeting is canceled. And so on and so on …
On my way to English later I pass Hugo again in the hall, which reminds me that Kat’s likely having a shitty morning, and at lunch she proves it by coming over to where I’m sitting and planting her ass in the closest chair. Jamie sits on her other side, giving me this fierce déjà vu. He tries to cheer her up in this really subtle way and it works a little but when she stops talking her mouth still looks tense, like maybe she’s just pretending for him.
It’s so familiar to hear them talk like this that next thing I know, I’m pitching in on the Distract Kat campaign, talking about the two Bs at home and how I’ve lost control over the basement because it has the only TV in the house and Brianna doesn’t seem to do anything else. Plus, the girl can’t stand me and I’m mortally afraid of Billy (the black cat), which doesn’t sound like a very frightening name but believe me, the thing is feral.
“He can’t be that bad,” Kat says with a smile. “You should try to make friends with him.”
“I’m not supposed to touch him,” I say with this deadpan expression. “How am I supposed to make friends with him? He doesn’t even come near me. He’s always lurking in corners, watching me like he’s waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. Anyway, Brianna’s worse. She’s one of those people who make you carry the entire conversation while she sits there scowling at you like you’re being an asshole.”
“It must be hard for her, though,” Kat says sympathetically. “She’s just moved into your house, where she probably doesn’t feel that much at home since she’s living with the two other people that have always belonged there and she’s what? Thirteen or something? That’s such a weird age in the first place without having to fit into this whole new family.”
“Right, but that’s not the point. You can make things easy or you can make them hard, you know?”
Kat stares at the table like she’s thinking that over, and it feels like a conversation we would’ve had a month ago, like we’re just trying to figure things out generally, without having to watch our step. “Give her some time,” she says, that sexy hint of an accent in her voice. “There’s no way she can dislike you forever. She just doesn’t really know you yet.”
Did I hear that right? Once I start to smile I can’t quit.
“What?” Kat asks, a crease forming between her eyes.
“Nothing.” I put my elbows up on the table as I look at her. “It just feels like things are finally getting back to normal with us.”
“Normal?” Kat’s voice is tense. Her eyes hurl me a warning.
I’ve been too deep into the conversation to realize this is something we shouldn’t be talking about so freely in front of our friends. Now I lower my voice and add, “Well, yeah, you know. It’s like you’ve been mad at me lately.”
Suddenly I can feel Sondra’s and Michelle’s gazes on me from across the table. Jamie’s watching too, and Kat’s cheeks are turning deep pink. “Why would I be mad at you?” she demands.
“It doesn’t make any sense to me,” I admit. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I’m not mad at you,” Kat insists. “That’s crazy.”
“I don’t get it,” Jamie cuts in, peering at the two of us. “What’s going on with you guys?”
“Nothing,” Kat replies definitively.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say at the same time. “No big thing.” And because that seems to demand still further explanation, I tack on, “Something stupid I said.”
Kat’s jaw has dropped and I immediately know referring to that Saturday night as “no big thing” was a critical mistake, even if I was trying to camouflage my earlier lack of discretion. The last thing I ever want to do is make her feel bad about what happened, and even with everyone watching and listening, I just can’t let that situation stand.
“I didn’t mean ‘no big thing,’” I apologize as she stares down at the table.
But every time I try to fix this it just makes things more wrong. Kat’s angry gaze swings back to me and I know I’ve stepped over the line again. One minute I feel like I can finally relax and the next she’s ready to tear my head off. Her entire face is red and her fingernail’s digging into her thumb. If we could turn down the cafeteria background noise you’d hear her blood boiling.
I stop talking altogether, drum my fingers on the table and try to look harmless. Unfortunately Kat’s not having it. She jumps out of her chair and heads for the exit, Sondra and Michelle five steps behind her.
“What did you do?” Jamie asks hotly.
“I didn’t do anything.” Jamie’s probably never heard me sound more serious but he’s shooting me this awful look, like he’s caught me torturing his nonexistent pet rabbit.
“She wouldn’t do that for nothing.” Jamie gestures to the exit. Seconds later a spark of recognition lights up his eyes and I’d rather skip this next part but Jamie’s already there. He slumps back in his chair, his mouth slack. “Fuck me,” he says quietly. He wraps his hands around the back of his neck and stares at me. “It was the night of the party, wasn’t it?”
I don’t deny it. I don’t speak.
“Holy shit,” Jamie whispers.
“We’re not going to talk about this, Jamie,” I command. Close as the three of us are, this is between Kat and me alone. I should never have opened my mouth about it within earshot of anyone else.
“Why am I the last to know everything?” he snaps, eyes bloodshot.
“You’re not.” Is that why he’s mad? I thought it was because of Kat. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”
“Of course you do.” Jamie scowls. “You’d be exactly the same in my place.”
That’s not true. I wouldn’t be happy but I’d keep my mouth shut about it.
“Why’s she so mad at you?” Jamie continues. His face is contorted into this weird aggressive mask that gets my back up. It’s not like he had a chance with Kat; it’s not like we fucked him over somehow. “What’d you do to her?”
It’s such a nasty accusation that I could almost hit him for it. Who does he think he’s talking to?
“What did you do?” he repeats, and this time it’s more of a whine but my pulse is racing. The back of my neck’s twitching too and I drop my jaw and stare at him. We’ve known each other forever and I’ve never been angrier with him than I am at this exact moment.
“You need to calm down, Jamie.” My voice has an edge to it that’d cut you clean in half. “You need to stay out of it. Whatever did or didn’t happen has nothing to do with you and you should know …” I drop to a whisper. “I’d never do anything to Kat that she didn’t want.”
I shove my chair back and get to my feet. Jamie looks away. Meanwhile Y and Z are pretending not to notice what’s going down and I stride out of the cafeteria and along the hall, my right hand clenched into a fist. Out in the fresh air a couple guys are playing Frisbee behind the parking lot and I stand around and watch them for a couple minutes. One of the guys has taken his shoes off and I swear, he’s like a frigging Jedi Master with the Frisbee, a complete natural. It calms me down a little to see.
I don’t want to think about what Jamie just said to me and I don’t want to replay Kat’s exit. I don’t want to do anything except stand here watching these guys play Frisbee until everything goes back to normal.
Then this senior girl with straight black hair and punk boots stalks out and stands next to me. I don’t know her name but she squints at me and says, “You were in that school play a few weeks ago. That was you, right? The guy with the dead brother.”
“That was me.” It’s weird but just the fact of her mentioning it makes me feel like I know her.
“That was a pretty cool play. You were good.” She sounds surprised but I thank her anyway. Then I go back inside because I can’t concentrate on watching Frisbee with her staring at me and I’m not in the mood to talk. The feeling reminds me of yesterday with Colette and as soon as I start thinking about that I begin to feel like a different person. I don’t have to let myself get dragged into this stupid romantic triangle drama with Kat and Jamie. They can play it out without me if they want to that bad, but I want something else. The possibility gives me a rush of adrenaline that I feel all the way down to my kneecaps.
It’s the kind of secret you want to be alone with, and after school I head straight home. The TV’s on in the basement and I jog downstairs to say hi to Brianna and Burke. Brianna’s watching that talk show The Doctors and Burke’s balancing a book on his knees while he munches away on a potato chip sandwich.
“Hey, guys,” I say. “What’s up?”
“Hi, Mason,” Burke says, grinning up at me. Orange crumbs are wedged up between his teeth. The chips must be barbecue or ketchup.
Brianna doesn’t answer. Her eyes barely leave the screen.
“Can he watch this?” I ask her. Isn’t The Doctors all breast cancer discussions, sex advice and plastic surgery?
“We watch Yu-Gi-Oh! in the commercials,” Burke offers. Like that sounds fair.
“He’s not watching it anyway,” Brianna says dryly, pointing to Burke’s book.
“Yeah, I get it.” My eyebrows pull together.
Brianna gives me this lethal look and yanks her feet up onto the couch with her. “Do you want to watch something?” she asks. “Is that what it is?”
This time it’s me who doesn’t answer. I scratch at my knuckles and tap Burke on the shoulder. “Can I try that?”
A single chip falls onto the couch as he hands over the sandwich. I take a bite, chewing noisily. “Ketchup,” I announce. “That’s not bad.”
“Pickle is good too,” Burke tells me, and all the while Brianna’s sitting there, fuming like her head’s going to burst. It’s almost funny. I can’t even be mad at her; she’s just too obvious.
“Don’t worry,” I say to her. “I’ll let you know when I want to watch something, Brianna.” She nods absently, refusing to tear her gaze away from the TV. “I’m going out,” I add. “Tell Nina for me.”
Brianna nods again and I retrace my steps through the house and into the street. It’s a spur-of-the-moment thing, but now that I’m going it seems preordained. Colette’s been on my mind all day long. She feels like a compulsion. A day-old compulsion that’s already gaining strength. I don’t even care if it’s crazy; I just want to catch another glimpse of her. I need something to counteract my shitty afternoon.
I keep walking until I hit downtown Glenashton. Colette’s travel agency is just on the other side of the traffic lights but that’s not an option. She’d be surrounded by coworkers and I’d come off looking like some kind of weirdo. Instead I nip into JB, order a latte, sit by the window and hope Christopher isn’t working today.
The latte’s cold and all but gone by five o’clock and maybe Colette doesn’t stop in every day after work like I’m counting on. The good news is that Chris isn’t around either. At ten after, I decide to stick around for another twenty minutes, and five minutes later Colette slips through the front door and walks straight past me, her high-heel shoes making a sticky, clicking noise on the tile floor.
I could take off now and she’d never know I was here. No, she’s spotted me. She stares at me from her spot at the counter and she doesn’t like what she sees. I flash her a wave but she turns swiftly back towards the counter like she can’t make me disappear fast enough. This is the effect I have on the opposite sex these days. Why did this seem like such a genius idea an hour ago?
I gulp down the last of my coffee and stare at Colette’s legs. She’s wearing pants today and I have to fill in her thighs and calves with my imagination. I’m so nervous that I forget everything I was going to say to her. I’ve never stalked anyone before; how do people do this?
Colette starts towards me with her coffee, her eyes hardening as they focus on mine. She stands stiffly by my table and says, “Should I be surprised to see you again?”
I relax my jaw as I glance up at her. She’s tense enough for both of us. “You want to sit down?” I ask, keeping my voice casual.
Colette bows her head and tightens her grip on her coffee cup. “I don’t want to be rude, Mason, but this is getting strange.”
“Or I just happen to be enjoying a coffee here where my friend works.” Her face falls like she’s made a terrible mistake and suddenly I can’t take it. If someone has to feel like an idiot, I’d sooner it be me. “Okay,” I add abruptly. “That’s not entirely true. A friend of mine does work here but running into you isn’t a coincidence.”
Colette takes a breath as she looks into my eyes. “I don’t know what to think of you. Don’t you have a girlfriend at school?”
“Not really.”
She folds one arm in front of her waist and gives me this crooked stare—angry, sexy and more than a little mysterious. That look makes it hard for me to keep my hands to myself. “You do realize that I’m almost twenty-four and you’re sixteen?” she says wryly.
I can do the math. “You think I’m being an ass.” Or that I’m being cute with my big-girl crush. I don’t know which is worse.
“I didn’t say that,” she says impatiently. “It’s just not workable. You seem like a really cool guy and all.” Her hand flies off her waist and settles at her side. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea yesterday. That was impulsive of me—and stupid.” She shrugs her shoulders and glances at the door. “I didn’t want you to feel bad but I guess I took things too far in the other direction.”
I know I look disappointed. I could put up a good front, but why veer away from honesty now?
“I’m sorry,” she says again. She takes a single step away from the table, swivels on her heels and adds, “I can still give you a ride if you need one. We don’t need to be awkward about this, do we?”
“It feels pretty awkward to me,” I say. “I feel like a complete ass.”
“Stop saying that,” Colette insists. “Okay, I was slightly spooked seeing you here again but that has a lot to do with me too. I know what I did yesterday could’ve been construed as encouragement. This is partly my fault.”
Maybe. “I don’t need a ride,” I tell her. “It’s okay.”
“Man.” Colette licks her lips. “Now I feel bad.”
“You’re a monster,” I kid. “You should feel bad.” This is the thing with her. The more I see her, the more I want to tease her until we’re rolling around on the floor, stripping off each other’s clothes. It’s a normal enough feeling; I’ve just never had it this intense before.
We smile at each other and I get that vibrating sensation in the back of my throat, like I can’t trust my words to come out right. “I don’t even believe you,” Colette lectures, eyes gleaming. “You never stop.”
“I do,” I say. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. You’ve got a hyperactive guilt complex.”
“I know it.” Colette nods. “So we’re okay, right? No hard feelings or future chance meetings?”
“Okay,” I say seriously. Colette glances down at my empty coffee cup and before she can change her mind and revoke her offer I add, “I’m done here. Maybe I’ll take that ride after all, if it’s cool with you?”
“Sure.” It could be my imagination but her voice sounds shrill.
My legs feel shaky as I walk with her. I’m not at all sure something’s going to happen this time but the vibes are sparking some thing wild. I can hardly think what to say. By the time I figure it out we’re in the parking lot, approaching her car. “I didn’t mean to make you mad,” I tell her. “I just really wanted to see you again.” We stop right behind her Echo. “But don’t worry; I’m not going to turn into some crazy guy that follows you around everywhere. If you see me around it’s just coincidence from now on, I promise.” Following her around after this would be creepy, and she’s only a twenty-four-hour compulsion, after all. Quitting can’t be impossible.
“I know,” Colette says. “It’s okay, Mason.” Her fingers close loosely around my wrist.
My other hand reaches instinctively for her hip and she yanks her body away, instantly creating this gaping forbidden zone between us. “Okay,” I say with a nervous laugh. “Do I have to apologize for that now too? Am I getting this all wrong?” I hold my hands up helplessly. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Colette.”
I’m genuinely confused. And my hand wants nothing more than to zing back into place on her hip. I can’t think my way through this. I’m like a caveman trying to figure out crosswalk signals.
“I think you do. I think maybe that’s the problem.” Colette’s headlong stare makes my jaw drop.
I knew it. Jesus. I gaze off into the parking lot, my mind filling up with memories of that night with Kat. I wonder what kind of underwear Colette’s wearing; I wonder how else it would be different. She’s so much older than me.
Colette drags a hand across her brow and into her hairline. “This is ridiculous.” She trudges away from me and unlocks the car doors. “Just get in.”
Sure. I climb in and keep my eyes on the dashboard. “Don’t worry,” I say evenly. “It’s cool.” It’s better than cool. I have to struggle to stop myself from grinning.
“Of course it’s cool for you,” Colette says as she starts the car. “You’re sixteen. I’d be this lecherous old woman with a boy toy. I’d be one of those cougars—and I hate that incredibly sexist term too—in skintight pants with a pinched face from a cheap face-lift.” She exhales frustration, her gaze hurtling over to mine.
“You’re only twenty-three,” I point out. “It’s not a big deal.” It’s a colossal deal. I feel golden.
Colette glares at me as she squeezes the steering wheel. It reminds me of the way Kat looked at me when she called me Dr. Phil.
“Do you want me to get out?” I ask.
“Of course not,” she snaps. “This is really annoying, Mason. Why’d you come back today? Why didn’t you just leave it alone like I asked you to?”
I slump down in the seat, unable to answer. How do you put something like that into words? It’s never just one thing that draws you towards someone, is it? It’s indefinable.
We pull up outside my house in no time and Colette stares nervously up the driveway like she’s worried about what Nina will think. I run my hands through my hair and follow her gaze. There’s no one out there to see us and no one would suspect anyway. “Don’t be pissed,” I tell her. “I can’t have another person mad at me.”
“Another person?” Colette echoes, meeting my eyes. “Who else is mad at you?”
I sit there telling her about Kat, Jamie and me. The entire story takes two minutes and when I’m done I absolutely feel sixteen. Most of it sounds ridiculously immature, except for that night with Kat. You can’t tell me there wasn’t something real in that.
“Your friend Kat sounds really weirded out,” Colette says. “Maybe she’s not used to hooking up with people so casually.”
“She’s not.” I don’t explain about both of us being virgins; I don’t want to sound any more like a sixteen-year-old than I already do.
Colette nods, winding a finger into her hair. She’s got more elegance in one finger than most people have in their entire bodies. It’s impossible for me to stop staring. “I’m not pissed with you, Mason,” she says. “I just don’t like the way I’ve been acting with you—you’re a kid.” I shake my head and she repeats herself, studying my eyes.
“Are you going to tell me to get out of the car now?” I ask. It’s the last thing I want to do but I can’t push her. It’s incredible enough that we’ve gotten this far. Honestly, she’s sexier by the second. My mind’s on a rampage.
“Mmm,” Colette hums thoughtfully. “I guess you should.”
I unbuckle my seat belt and obediently reach for the door but Colette grabs my shoulder before I can open it. I swing around, immediately collapsing back into the passenger seat, my heart thumping like a wild thing. I’d say something but it feels like her turn. She already knows where I stand.
Our eyes lock in silence. We sit there watching each other for too long. “Am I going to see you again?” I ask finally, my fingers scratching at an imaginary clump of green hair.
“Sure,” Colette says. “We’ll do prom together.” She fiddles with her watch strap as she stares at her fingers. “I’m sorry. That was bitchy.” Her eyes soften a little as her hands settle back on the wheel. “How about you come over to my place right now and we get this entire thing over with?” Before I have a chance to wonder if that’s an all-inclusive deal, she adds, “And I’m not getting into it with a sixteen-year-old, so purge every porno movie you’ve ever seen from your mind. We’re just going to talk it through and I guarantee by the end of the conversation this will seem like an extremely bad idea.”
This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard—going home with someone to talk yourselves out of hooking up.
“Are you in or not?” Colette asks.
“Definitely,” I say soberly. “I’m in.”