Melt With You

  “I’m turning the Dial-a-Lash all the way up, baby! It’s that kind of a night.” I spin the mini dial as far as it’ll go and start piling on the mascara.

  “It’s too much.” Jen knocks her foot into mine before applying her own mascara, her go-to Maybelline Great Lash with its retro pink tube. It’s good stuff, but my mom still buys it for herself, and I have a strict rule against liking anything my mother indulges in. “You’ll look like a raccoon.”

  “Raccoons are sexy.”

  “Since like when are vermin attractive?” She leans back, examining me before pulling out her red Wet n Wild lipstick and handing it to me. “You’re the one trying to be sexy, aren’t you?”

  “Right. And who exactly am I trying to seduce?” I get back to the business of powdering my face. My cover up is so old there’s a grease layer caked over the powder, making it impossible to use.

  “Like shut up. You know its Joel. He’s like being a total sweetheart to you. Nobody is going to blame you, like you know?”

  “I know,” I say quietly. “He told me that he and Kelly had a pretty bad fight.” It’s true. He dropped this bomb on me yesterday on our ride home. I sort of dragged it out of him. He seemed pretty down, and I’m the one who asked what was wrong. I was shocked as hell when he actually told me.

  “He said that? That’s like crazy, you know?” The Valley Girl in her hits an all- time crescendo.

  “It was sort of in private—but I kind of want to talk about it. If you say anything, I’ll deny it.”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” She makes an X over her heart to prove a point. “What happened? Did he walk toward her with a crucifix, and she started to hiss and fizzle?”

  “Something like that, only she was pissed about me. He didn’t exactly come out and say it, but he did say she was pissed about how little time they’ve been spending together. I told him I was fine with him not helping me out. I mean, it is getting easier on the crutches, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “God. Why do all the good things happen to you? Why couldn’t I make cheer? Why couldn’t Joel Effing Miller run me over with his truck?”

  “Would you listen to yourself?” I pull open the shoebox with my jewelry and put on an entire sleeve of black rubber bracelets.

  “Geez.” Jen shakes her head as she looks at me from top to bottom. “You really do look like Madonna.”

  “Thanks.” I’ll take that any day of the week because I happen to think she’s totally awesome. “Wait.” I pluck a lace headband that I haven’t even worn yet out of a Contempo bag. It’s neon pink lace over a black band. “My mother thinks these colors are racy together, and for once, I hope she’s right.”

  We share a quick cackle just as Laurie dips her head in. There’s a purple soapy mess in her hair, and the sides are leaking down her face in long lavender strips.

  “What the hell is in your hair?”

  “I’m dying it black.” She’s wearing that dark lipstick she loves, and she’s head to toe clad in her signature attire—ripped black tights, tartan plaid skirt held together with a ginormous safety pin, and a black mesh top. She wears the same clothes so often she actually smells.

  “Does Mom know?” I’m shocked at how far she’s taken her bizarre look. It’s not like she’s in high school anymore. Her room is still plastered with Black Flag fliers, and she keeps the shades drawn all day long. Laurie attends the local community college. She needs to face the fact her fun days are over.

  “Who the hell cares if Mom knows? Does Mom know you’re dating that jock that landed you in the ER?”

  “I’m not dating him.” I flex the toes on my broken leg as if that proves the point. “He’s just helping me out. He feels bad.”

  “Nothing like a pity party to get a relationship off on the right foot. I’m headed out.”

  “What about your hair!” I call after her.

  “I’ll wash it at Lisa’s house!”

  “Wow”—Jen muses—“your sister is a trip.”

  “She’s a trip all right.” I roll on my lip-gloss. “But she’s not my problem.” I take a deep breath. “At the moment, though, I’m sort of your problem.”

  Jen helps me up, and we head for Glen Heights.

  I don’t think I’ve ever looked forward to a game like I’m looking forward to this one. It feels as if high school is finally kicking into high gear—with or without my ability to cheer.

  * * *

  The crowds are bustling as parents, teens, and an entire herd of people pour through the gates. Normally, this wouldn’t deter me, but today with my required wide stance, my ability to trip those foolish enough to enter my personal space—it’s becoming a bit of a challenge to get seated. Amy and Peter wave us over to the front row. They’ve mercifully saved us two spots, so I don’t have to worry about hobbling up six flights. Everything is pretty much perfect until the cheer team runs onto the field and lands in front of us—with Kelly landing smack in front of me.

  “Shit,” I mutter. Just my bad luck.

  “Don’t stress.” Jen knocks into me. “You have every right to see this game.”

  “Who invited the jinx?” Kelly laughs to Stacey as she says it.

  “Your boyfriend, honey.” Jen doesn’t bother whispering, and effectively wipes the smile off both Kelly and Stacey’s lips.

  “What did you say?” Kelly takes a few bold steps in our direction with her pompoms stapled to her hips.

  “I said”—Jennifer’s face turns pink as a carnation—“your boyfriend, honey.”

  Amy flails an arm in the air. “She was talking to me! I asked if anyone would mind coming to the bathroom with me, and she said your boyfriend—um, honey.”

  Nice save. I think.

  “So!” Amy hops up and pulls Jen out of her seat right along with her. “We’ll be headed to the restroom now. Obviously, they don’t let boys in, so he can’t come.” She waves to Peter. “Keep an eye on Melissa for us!”

  Kelly contorts her face into all kinds of insane positions. She’s still freshly pissed, and from the looks of it, she’s not buying Amy’s “nice save.”

  “You always need someone else’s boyfriend to look after you. Don’t you, Mouse-akowski?” She spits my nickname out as if it were an expletive.

  “Just the cute ones.” Honest to God, I don’t know what possessed me.

  “Thank you.” Peter is genuinely pleased with the compliment.

  “You little bitch.” Kelly tries to come at me while Stacey pulls her back into the lineup.

  Stacey growls like a rabid overgrown poodle before turning to her equally angry bitch-in-heat friend. “She’s just trying to get you suspended. She’s pissed because she can’t cheer. Don’t give in to her bullshit. She’s like totally lame and so are her friends.”

  They burst into song, more like a demonic chant, before I can say anything to defend my friends or me.

  “They’re clinical. Ignore,” I whisper to Peter. He scoots in, his sweater layered thick with Drakkar Noir.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll watch you like a hawk all night. She’s not laying a hand on you. So what’s going on with dickhead?”

  The Beaver Brigade starts in on another series of rowdy cheers, so I don’t mind having this conversation with him.

  “Nothing, I swear. He’s just being nice.”

  Peter shakes his head, disbelieving. “People aren’t that nice. He’s up to something. You ever see Carrie?”

  “The movie? I promise you, pig’s blood is not on his agenda.”

  “I don’t know.” He twists in the direction of the football team. “Catching you off guard is half the fun.”

  Jen and Amy come back just as the players run onto the field, and the cheerleaders hold out their hands so that each of the guys can slap them five. When number fourteen comes up, Kelly reels Joel in like a fish and makes a big show of sticking her tongue down his throat.

  Jen leans in and moans. “She’s like so freaking gross. She
’s gagging him with her tongue.”

  I’m not sure why, but it hurts to witness. Somehow it feels like the slightest betrayal, and I have no idea why.

  Amy scoots in on the other side of me, and her Heaven Scent perfume sweetens the air. “She’s just marking her territory. Wouldn’t it be funny if he dumped her for you? She thinks she’s got nothing to worry about, but I think you’d make a better couple with Joel than Kelly.”

  “Blasphemy!” I laugh at the thought. “Trust me, we’re strictly in the friend zone. It’s like hanging out with Peter when we’re together. There’s not even a hint of anything going on. I’m just not interested.” And there it is, the first of what I fear will become a string of lies that I’ll heap upon my friends for the next solid year. Thankfully, both Joel and Kelly will graduate come June, and I won’t have to witness their sexcapades front and center anymore. God, are they selling tickets? How long can two humans kiss before it actually becomes a medical situation? Are his parents in the crowd? Are hers?

  My stomach wrenches as I force myself to look away. Joel and I might be in the friend zone, but my feelings have taken a turn for the dangerous. I’m not supposed to be falling for Joel Miller. He’s taken, and way out of my league. But I have no one to blame but him. He’s too damn nice for his own good, and those eyes? Forget it. The sky blushes when she sees how blue they are. And let’s not forget that body—hard as steel, solid as sheetrock. He took his shirt off after practice earlier and tried to have a normal conversation with me about heading to the library. Clearly, he’s oblivious to the hypnotic effect his abs have on the female population. Not to mention the fact talking to me about the library with his shirt off was like every fantasy I’ve ever had about him rolled into one.

  I watch as Joel passes the ball to someone down the field, and everyone around me breaks out into a firestorm of cheers. Joel Miller is the perfect package. There’s simply no denying it.

  The game ends, and Joel runs up the field in this direction. Every muscle in my body tenses as I hope for the impossible. He takes his helmet off, and our eyes lock as he lifts his hand with a wave. Kelly jumps on top of him like a chimpanzee on fire, and they spin, most likely to keep from falling, but in truth, they look adorable with each of them in their respective uniforms. My stomach sours, and I force myself to look away.

  “She’s eating his face again,” Jen chokes out the words.

  “I don’t need a play-by-play.” I glance back, and sure enough, she’s still on the attack, but strangely he doesn’t look like he’s putting any effort into it, and somehow this makes me feel better.

  One thing is for sure. I’m wishing with everything in me that Joel Miller was mine.

  Joel

  We win twenty-seven to nine.

  “Yes!” I spike the ball as the team hoists me up in their arms. Coach Hartman takes a cooler bath, and all is right with the world.

  The cheerleaders storm us from behind, and my stomach knots up at the sight of Kelly. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy that kiss she gave me earlier; it’s that I didn’t appreciate what she gritted through her teeth right after. “You belong to me. Don’t you ever forget it.”

  I scowl at her a moment. Believe me, sweetheart. There are some days I’d like to forget it. Not to mention the fact the hostage hold she kept me in made it appear as if we were auditioning for a Guinness World Record for longest kiss. I get it. It was all an act, just like every other facet of our fake, heavily structured relationship.

  The boys drop me back to the ground, and Kelly doesn’t waste a second wrapping herself around me like a grapevine.

  “The party’s at Craig’s tonight.”

  “Craig’s, huh?” I glance over to the stands and spot Melissa taking off with her friends. I’ve been to Craig’s plenty of times to know that he has a flat driveway leading to his very flat oversized backyard. “I’m in. Let me hit the shower, and I’ll meet you back out front.” I give her a quick pat before threading through the crowd and tracking down Melissa and her friends in the parking lot.

  “Hey!” I jog over, and half of the kids in the vicinity turn to look at me. Melissa’s eyes round out, and for a second I think I’m overstepping my bounds. Usually, I wouldn’t do this, but I want to extend the invitation. It’s the least I can do for landing her in a cast for the next three months. “I just wanted to let you guys know there’s a party at Craig Amalfiano’s. It’s just up the street. No stairs, I promise.” I hold up a hand as if I were taking an oath.

  Melissa and her friend exchange a quick glance.

  “You’re all welcome,” I add. “The entire school will be there, so you’re already invited. Just come and hang out.”

  Melissa takes a few hobbling steps toward me on her crutches, that playful smile she likes to give flirts on her lips. My heart thumps a couple of times, and my stomach squeezes tight. I haven’t had that heart thumping, stomach squeezing reaction for a while with a girl, and I rack my brain trying to remember if I ever had it with Kelly. I try to shake the feeling off and give a few quick blinks. It’s just the night. I’m coming off a victory. Kelly has me rattled because she’s being so damn possessive. I’m not really falling for Melissa. I shake the thought away.

  That sweet powder scent emanates from her, and I feel at home, relaxed.

  “Good game.” She looks down to the ground, her lashes rake across her cheeks in the form of elongated shadows. “You’re like a hero out there or something.” She glances to her buddy. “We’ll be at the party, but just for a bit.”

  “Cool.” My chest thumps again at the thought of seeing her there tonight. “And, Melissa, I’m glad you came to the game. It would have killed me knowing I messed that up for you, too.”

  She shakes her head. “You’re going to have to work a lot harder if you want to mess with my life.” She pivots on her heel as they make their way toward an old Suzuki. “See you at the party!”

  I head back to the gym with a spring in my step, still pumped from such a widespread victory. I high-five the guys in the locker room, shower, and get dressed, and all the while—the only thing on my mind is Melissa.

  * * *

  Craig Amalfiano’s house is the most outrageously ornate home out of every single architectural mutation I’ve seen in the Heights. He’s a preppy—a part of the popped collar—Members Only jacket wearing crew at Glen. There’s plenty of them, most of which come from unimaginable wealth. Even I’m a bit dazzled by his house. There’s a twelve-foot fountain in front with fourteen lions cast out of marble, sleeping and roaring their way around the watery pit. My mother always clicks her tongue as we drive by this place. She calls it the “monstrosity” and says “you can’t buy good taste.” But the Amalfianos are nice. They’re generous—generous enough to let a hundred kids cram into their backyard, post game, and they even provide the kegs to help celebrate.

  Melissa and her friend show up just like they said they would and hang out toward the back of the property where it’s not so shoulder-to-shoulder. It’s pretty clear it sucks being on crutches at a party.

  “Ohmigod.” Kelly’s mouth falls open as she spots them. “What the hell is Mouse-akowski doing here?” Kelly glides her hand up my shirt and scratches at my chest with her acrylic claws. “I think you like have a fucking stalker.”

  “She’s not a stalker.” I gently remove her hand from under my shirt. “I invited her.”

  Both Russell and Frankie head over with the circle of girls they’ve immersed themselves in—Michelle and Stacey are gunning hard for my buddies. It doesn’t seem to matter to anyone that Russ is a junior. I’ll admit, it’ll be more than a little weird if we’re all dating in the same social circle. But I don’t think anyone here has any long-term commitment in mind. That’s the thing about game night—the real game starts after the final whistle blows. It’s all about scoring a touchdown in the bedroom—car, bathroom, whichever. And after a win like tonight? It’s almost a given each guy on the team is about to get laid.

&nb
sp; “You invited that thing?” Kelly slaps me over the stomach. “Are you freaking out on me or something?”

  “Would you stop? Don’t call her a thing. Yes, I invited her. And, no, I’m not freaking out on you. I need to be nice, remember? Besides, she should be here. She goes to Glen.”

  Kelly leans in and takes a bite out of my ear. “I think you’re taking this nice thing a little too far.”

  I glance back at Melissa, and it looks as if she and her friend have further isolated themselves from the crowd. They’re standing out in the middle of nowhere, alone, looking around as if they had somehow materialized here and are trying to get their bearings. It looks awkward, uncomfortable, and now I’m wondering if I put them in a situation they never wanted to be in.

  “Look, I’ll go over and thank them for coming—take them a few wet drinks, then I’m all yours.” I try to take off, and Kelly spins me back into her.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” She wags a finger in my face, trying to laugh it off, but I can see the rage brewing in her eyes. “They’re like big girls, you know? They can take care of themselves. There’s only one girl you need to worry about keeping wet tonight.” She sticks her finger in her mouth and pulls it out slowly. “Like fer sure.”

  Michelle and Stacey cackle up a storm when she says it.

  The DJ starts up the music, “Girls Just Want to Have Fun,” and the crowd goes insane—technically, it’s the girls in the crowd who lose their minds. The guys for the most part are unmoved by this new wave. We prefer the old wave, the one we’re still riding with Ozzy and Dio. I look to Melissa, and a dull smile floats to my lips.

  Both Michelle and Stacey scream in tandem, “Cyndi Lauper!” They migrate toward the patio, where bodies gyrate to the music, and start kicking off their heels.