“Hey,” he called, shading his eyes. “You coming?”
My heart was pounding in a hollow place, telling me to leave, to walk fast and faster until he could no longer see me, and then to crawl into a dark hole and curl up and bawl. To pick up the tiny, trampled scrap of pride I had left and get out, and I wish I could say I did, but all I could think was that if I made a stand now, I would have to leave and my day with him would end, and he would let it end and that would be it, forever.
“What happened?” he said when I finally jogged across, still carrying my heels and with my purse banging against my hip.
“Nothing,” I said and, grabbing the light post for support, put my shoes back on. “Okay. Let’s go.”
So we cut across the parking lot to the mall, where, in a show of faith that we could still have a decent day, I bought a pair of pants and a shirt on sale for like 70 percent off and put them on so I wouldn’t have to walk around in my uniform anymore.
“You got quiet,” he said while we were sitting side by side on the ledge of a giant planter in the food court, drinking Orange Juliuses. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” I said, skimming my straw along the top of the drink and sucking up the foam.
He snorted. “Right. Every girl I know says exactly the same thing when she’s pissed and you ask what’s wrong. ‘Nothing.’”
“I’m not every girl,” I said, swirling the straw around.
“Why do you guys do that, anyway?” he continued. “Why don’t you just come right out and say what’s bugging you, like, ‘Look, asshole, you’re really pissing me off.’”
“All right: Look, asshole, you’re really pissing me off,” I said sharply.
“Yeah, like that,” he said, nodding as if satisfied, and gazed out over the food court.
I waited. And waited. “Well?” I said finally.
He glanced at me. “Well what?”
I stared at him, incredulous. “Well, aren’t you even gonna ask me why?”
“I knew it.” He heaved a sigh. “Okay, Hanna. Why are you pissed off?”
“No, forget it now,” I said, insulted. “You don’t really want to know, anyway.”
“Oh my God,” he said weakly. “Look, I’m asking, so just tell me already. I swear I really want to know.”
“Well, that’s too bad because I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” I said.
He stared at me, mouth agape, and kind of shook himself. “Well…okay, then.”
I looked at him. “Okay’? That’s it? Are you kidding?”
“Holy shit,” he breathed, and started to laugh. Caught my high-eyebrow haughty-bitch look and tried to stop, but the more he tried, the harder he laughed until he was bent over and spilling the last of his Orange Julius all over the polished floor.
“You know you’re very weird,” I said, trying to sound cold, but the snicker burst out, and oh, God, it felt so good to just stuff the hurt away and go back to this.
“Yeah, well, look who’s talking.” Grinning, he slid an arm around me in a quick hug.
That was the last time he touched me, and we didn’t get personal again either. We went outside and hung out on the wall of the cement planter against the building, but he was back to flirty Seth, cute but separate, like he was holding himself at a distance even though he seemed in a decent mood. I caught him checking out other girls but I couldn’t say anything so I just started watching other guys. There were more girls willing to look back at Seth and disrespect me than there were guys willing to disrespect Seth, so that only made me sink even more.
I hit rock bottom when a girl with a hatchet jaw and better highlights than mine paused and looking straight into Seth’s gleaming eyes, stopped to bum a cigarette. She glanced at me—I guess she could tell we weren’t going out or maybe she didn’t even care—and then I swear she actually eased in between us, perched a skinny hip on the cement wall, and turned her back on me to face him!
Did he say, “Hey, you’re blocking Hanna,” or anything like that? No. He just kept flirting with her like I wasn’t even there, and oh my God, I can take a lot of punishment and still keep my eye on the prize, but this was just so out of line that I don’t know what I would have done—cried? Screamed? Threw a fit and strode off in a huff?—if a big, gleaming black Harley hadn’t rumbled up to the curb with karate guy straddling the seat.
“Hanna,” he said, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his beautiful, poisonous dreads. He had on a black T-shirt and his rude ink was right out there for all to see. “What’s up?”
“Hey!” I cried, beaming and launching myself off the cement wall, totally ignoring the surprised silence next to me and, at that moment, crazy in love with karate guy. “Oh my God, where have you been?” I pranced over and stood so close he practically had to put his arm around my waist. “What a gorgeous bike! Is it new?” Turning my back on Seth, I gave karate guy an intense, pleading look like Please play along. Please?
His gaze shifted past me to Seth and the girl, and then back to me. He quirked an amused eyebrow, stroked his goat, and nodded like he got it, like he wanted nothing more in the world than to play stupid baby games with high schoolers. “I bought it because I knew you’d look hotter than hell riding on the back,” he said with a lazy grin, twinkling at me and loud enough for Seth and the girl to hear. “Whoops,” he said, ducking as I blushed and slapped at him. “Did I say that in front of your old man?”
“My what?” I said as if I had no clue, then turned and glanced at Seth. “Him? Oh, no. He’s not my boyfriend, he’s just…” I cocked my head like I was deliberating, then shrugged and said, “Some guy from school.” And I turned away again, stung by the sight of hatchet girl and her skinny-hipped, S-shaped stance, groin out, boobs level with Seth’s nose, and Seth’s hand resting way too close to hers.
“Cool,” karate guy said, “then hop on. I’ll take you for a quick ride. Unless, uh…” He glanced at Seth again, eyebrows high, like he was giving him one last chance to step up.
“Oh, no, he doesn’t mind, he’s busy,” I said with a dismissive wave as if I didn’t give one shit about him picking up a girl while he was with me. “I’ll be back,” I said over my shoulder, took the extra helmet, and squeezed it down over my ears. And karate guy, who seemed to be enjoying the drama way too much, waited till I climbed on and then, twisting around to face me, buckled my chin strap and tucked my hair in around my cheeks. As if that wasn’t enough, he touched the tip of my nose with his finger and said in a low, mischievous voice, “You want me to give ’em even more to talk about?”
“No, you’re doing just fine,” I said with a wicked look from under my lashes.
He laughed, which surprised me, as down at Crystal’s he always seemed too cool to actually laugh but it was a good sound and I loved that Seth got to see an older guy treating me nice.
“Later, dude,” karate guy said, smirking at Seth and completely ignoring hatchet girl.
I settled my hands low on his waist, he checked behind us, and we took off.
I glanced back—I know I shouldn’t have but I couldn’t help it—and hatchet girl gave me a knowing look like I was just too obvious and turned to Seth, who was already looking away from me.
Damn.
The bike was sleek and cool and scary as hell. Karate guy took me around the parking lot and out to the road. He waited for a break in traffic, then said, “Hold on,” and in a rumbling surge of “holy shit” power, gunned it.
“Oh my God!” I cried, laughing as we roared away. “This is amazing.”
“First bike ride?” he threw back.
“Yeah,” I said, squinting over his shoulder at the road.
“Cool,” he said. “Then enjoy.” He turned off the congested main drag, and meandered through side streets, shaded lanes, and out onto an empty road where he opened it up and took my breath away.
“This motorcycle makes a very distinctive sound,” I yelled at his helmet, in the spot where I figured his ear should be.
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He laughed and shouted, “Never heard it put that way, but yeah, she does.” And then, “So you into that dude back there or what?”
“Is it that obvious?” I said.
“Yeah, you were looking pretty miserable. Glad I showed up.”
“You and me both,” I said and squeezed him a little tighter. “Thank you.” I laughed forlornly. “And how weird is this, anyway?”
“What, you and me?” he said. “Why not?”
He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be. “Are you serious?”
“What would you say if I was?”
And it was the smile in his tone that freed me, that took me one step past who I thought he was and delighted me with who he was being right now, so I said, “I’d say you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
“Suppose I said I’ll take the chance,” he said.
I bit my lip and snickered. “Well, then I’d invite you to my sixteenth birthday party in May so you can meet my parents.”
The bike swerved, and cursing, he righted it and steered over to the curb. Turned and gave me an astonished look. “How old?”
“Fifteen, same as Crystal,” I said with a cheery grin. “What, did you think I was older?”
“Uh, yeah.” He stared at me. “I could go to jail for you. Like, right now.”
“Nah,” I said airily. “You’re what, eighteen? That’s no big deal.”
“It is to the law,” he said.
“That’s dumb,” I said. “First of all, everybody knows girls mature faster than guys, and second, you haven’t done anything but give me a ride.”
He gave me this look, half amusement, half disbelief, and shook his head. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, girl.” And then his eyebrows rose like he’d just thought of something else. “Isn’t this a school day?”
“Mm-hmm,” I said. “But it was so nice, we cut out.”
“Oh, Jesus,” he said. “C’mon, let me get you back to Romeo.”
“Wait,” I said, tugging on his dread. “Does this mean you’re not coming to my birthday party?”
He laughed. “Ask me again when you’re eighteen.”
“You got it,” I said and smiled because he was making it so easy to like him.
When we got back to the mall, not only was the cement planter where we’d been sitting abandoned but the bag with my uniform in it was gone too.
“Looks like lover boy got pissed and left,” he said, as the bike idled at the curb. “Now what?”
“I don’t know,” I said, panicking. “I mean, I don’t care about him but, oh my God, where’s my uniform?”
“Think he took it with him?”
“No,” I said immediately. “I think he would have said, ‘I’m not babysitting her shit,’ and left it there! Oh my God, my father’s gonna kill me if I lost that uniform!” I hopped off the bike and ran over to see if maybe he’d tucked the bag down inside the planter.
Nothing.
Then I ran to the garbage can and tried to look in. I couldn’t see, so I had to lift the whole top off, which was humiliating, but there was no bag in there either.
“Oh my God, where is it?” I said, stopping and staring around the parking lot.
Karate guy glanced at his watch. “I have to be at work in forty-five minutes, Hanna, but I don’t want to just leave you here. What do you want to do?”
Kill Seth. Kill him.
“Can you give me five minutes?” I said, wringing my hands. “Let me just run in and see if maybe somebody left it at the lost and found? Please?”
“Go ahead,” he said and cruised over to a parking space.
I ran to the first counter in Macy’s and asked if anyone had turned in a bag.
No.
Bolted down the center of the mall, not even looking for Seth, and was almost past the food court when someone called, “Hanna.”
I skidded to a stop and spotted him alone at a table. Frowning, I scanned the area but didn’t see my bag. “What’re you doing in here? Where’s my stuff?”
He leaned back and shrugged. “Isn’t it out there where you left it?”
“No! I only left it because I thought you’d watch it,” I said. “Seth, my uniform’s in there!”
He looked at me, eyes cool and face expressionless. “Well, you weren’t too worried about it when you left, so I figured…” He shrugged again and glanced over to the pizza place where hatchet girl was in line. “Try lost and found. They probably have it.”
I couldn’t even begin to say what I wanted to, because if I did, I would have hit him, cursed him out, or burst into tears. Probably all three. So I just whirled and ran to lost and found, where yes, the bag was waiting. I took it and ran back past the food court, past him and hatchet girl, through Macy’s, and out to karate guy, who, good as his word, was leaning against his bike waiting.
“Can you drop me off at home?” I asked. “I’ll give you gas money, I swear.”
He surveyed my face. “Guy’s an asshole, huh?”
I nodded, near tears.
“Sure,” he said. “Climb on. And don’t insult me with the money thing again, okay?”
So I did and he got me home before noon. My mother wasn’t there, she was over at Gran’s, so I changed into sweats and crawled into bed, and when she came in, I told her I’d felt sick all morning and had stayed in the bathroom, never even went to homeroom, and finally got a ride home. I said I had a bad stomachache, which I did, and I must have looked like hell because instead of asking me all kinds of questions, she blamed it on the homemade sun-dried tomatoes she’d put in last night’s salad, told me to rest, brought me a cup of hot tea with honey, and left me in peace.
Sometimes my mother’s so good.
I saw Seth coming toward me down the far end of the hall the next day and I could tell by the slow way he was walking that he didn’t really want to run into me, so I just took the side staircase, and problem solved.
Chapter 6
Helen
Lon and I loaded the car with the candied yams, a butternut squash casserole, two pumpkin pies, and a gallon jar of pickled green tomatoes and drove over to the Thurys for Thanksgiving dinner.
“Go slow,” I said, balancing the pies on my lap as he pulled out of the driveway.
Freshly shaved, salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed to the side, the thin navy blue stripes on his favorite dress shirt making his eyes look even browner, he glanced across the car at me and said, “Well, will you look at that: a pretty woman with a pile of food sitting right there in my shotgun seat. Talk about having something to be thankful for.”
“Oh, really,” I said but couldn’t help feeling pleased because I had taken pains to look nice, digging out the cranberry-colored blouse I’d worn back when I worked in an office and pairing it with my black slacks. I’d even put on earrings, something I hadn’t done in years as I didn’t have pierced ears and the levers on the backs of the shiny gold buttons always left painful scallops in my earlobes. “Stop trying to butter me up and keep your eyes on the road, old man.”
“Impossible,” he said and, with a cheeky grin, reached over and squeezed my knee. “Want to go parking later?”
“I’m not allowed,” I said primly and, when he removed his hand, “Oh, hell, I didn’t think you’d give up that easily.”
“I haven’t,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “Just wait till the ride home.”
“I know what you’re doing, you know,” I said after a moment.
“Oh?” he said, sounding far too innocent. “What am I doing?”
“Distracting me,” I said and smiled when he met my gaze. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said gruffly and, reaching across the seat, took hold of my hand. “You’re shaking. Do you want me to turn up the heat?”
“No,” I said. “It’s just nerves. I haven’t seen her in so long…”
“Who, Hanna? Helen…my God, don’t tell me that’s what you’ve been so worried about?”
I hesitated—missing Hanna was one thing but not all things—then nodded.
“Well, you can stop because she’s going to be as glad to see you as you are to see her.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said softly and turned my gaze out the window, watching as we drove past the woods and around the bend that would lead us to the Thurys.
He was right, and not even Hanna’s curious look at my trembling or the catastrophic moment during dessert could tarnish the glow on the day.
Hanna met us at the door sporting flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and a beaming smile, looking taller, older, and rebelliously lovely in her antiholiday outfit of jeans, the opossum-patterned socks I gave her last Christmas, and a scoop-neck black sweater.
She hugged me hard but I hugged her harder, and when I finally stepped back to look at her, I found she was doing the same to me.
“It’s trite and awful but I’m going to say it anyway,” I said, laughing and wiping a shaky hand across my damp eyes. “I can’t believe you’re so grown-up!”
“And I got a job, too! Oh my God, Gran, I missed you so much,” she burbled. “You look so pretty! You should wear earrings all the time. I’m serious. They make your—”
“Ahem,” Lon said good-naturedly from behind me on the porch stoop. “I hate to interrupt, but these yams aren’t getting any younger…”
“Oh, no way, you brought yams?” she said, and when I nodded, she snickered and said, “I can’t believe you remember that! He’s probably still working there, too, the jerk. Hi, Grandpa, come on in!”
Melanie and Wes came to greet us and take the food, although Hanna refused to surrender the gallon of pickled tomatoes and insisted on lugging that out to the kitchen herself. “I swear I’ve been dreaming about these things,” she said, setting the jar on the cluttered counter and wrestling with the lid. “I’m serious. You don’t know how bad I was hoping you’d bring them, and I was even gonna call and ask but…” She bit her lip. “I feel kind of mean for not helping you this year.”
“Well, I missed your company, that’s for sure, and a phone call would have been nice, but I managed to make it through,” I said lightly, not wanting to spoil the day.