⊕⊗⊕
The party is being held at a house I’m unfamiliar with. It belongs to a new kid who moved in after the end of the school year. Beth met him and found they had many of the same interests, those mainly being partying, skipping school, and adding piercings to their bodies—all things that had once been my center of interest as well.
“His parents named him Adama after some character in a movie, one I’ve never heard of. Some kind of battle movie or something,” Beth had told me earlier when I called to tell her I was finally getting Trevor to a party.
“Battlestar Galactica,” I said.
“What?” Her tone suggested I’d spoken in a foreign language, and I realized I knew this without even asking Trevor. Wait till I tell him, I thought.
“That’s the name of the movie.”
“And you know this because . . .”
“Long story.” I changed the subject, not wanting her to know the extent of the geek knowledge I have absorbed. “Listen, Beth, this is Trevor’s first party. Kind of spread the word to take it easy on him, will you? It won’t help my case if we plunge him in full force.”
“You abandon us all summer and you want our help?”
“I told you, it’s a process. Tell Kyle. He’ll take care of it.”
She didn’t make any promises, but as Trevor and I arrive at the party and walk in the front door, I can see she has talked to Kyle. The house is dim with music blaring, kids are drinking, and many of them are high, but there isn’t any obvious drug usage going on; it’s all being kept behind closed doors.
Beth and Ella meet us at the door, and Beth has in tow a tall, skinny kid with a flop of blond hair, bloodshot eyes lined with black, many facial piercings going on, dressed in solid black. He’s exactly her type—and mine too. Then I look at clean-cut Trevor, compare him to Adama, and think maybe my type is changing a little, because Trevor looks so much better to me than Adama does.
Weird.
“Adama, this is Jen and Trevor.”
Trevor glances at me with lifted brows, and I mouth, “Battlestar Galactica.” He grins in response.
They lead us into the house, and even though Trevor and I still have something of an unspoken agreement about maintaining our “friends only” cover, he grabs my hand tightly. I look at him, wondering if it’s making him nervous being here. Then he does an odd thing and pulls me closer and slightly behind him, and I understand that he’s nervous about me being here, protecting me.
I laugh and pull away from him, stepping in front.
This is my turf.
Kyle comes out of a bedroom, followed by a billow of sweetly acrid smoke.
“Hey, hey, look who’s decided to grace us once again with her presence,” he speaks slowly, voice pitched too loud and too high. He leans in and plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek, then notices Trevor.
“Trevor, my main man,” he calls, giving Trevor an uncoordinated high-five. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah, how are you, uh . . .” Trevor looks to me for help.
“Kyle,” I supply.
“Right, Kyle.”
“I’m mellow and happy, man. Can I get you something to drink?” he slurs, leading Trevor stumblingly into the kitchen with an arm slung around his shoulder. I follow, wondering if I’m going to have to remind Kyle to take it easy.
“A Coke, I guess?” Trevor says.
“One Coke coming up.”
Kyle pours a cup of flat Coke from a two-litre bottle. He gestures to an array of bottles behind him.
“Which additive, my friend?”
To his credit, Trevor keeps shock and disgust off his face as he surveys and sees that the bottles are all varieties of alcohol. He reaches out and grabs the cup from Kyle.
“Plain works for me,” he says, and Kyle laughs, slapping him on the back, causing some of the Coke to spill out of the cup and over Trevor’s hand.
“Someone has to be the designated driver, huh?”
Trevor just smiles humorlessly, but already Kyle is turning my way.
“And what can I get your royal cuteness?” I grimace at the unwelcome endearment.
Trevor looks at me, and I can see he’s trying desperately to keep his look neutral even though he’s curious about my answer.
“Diet Coke,” I say, smiling at Trevor.
“Straight?” Kyle’s tone indicates that this is an unusual request.
“Of course,” I say firmly.
Kyle looks from Trevor to me and back again. The light bulb comes on. “Ahh, right.”
I want to kick Kyle for being such a moron when I see the shadow that passes through Trevor’s eyes. Kyle hands me the filled cup, and Ella comes to my rescue.
“Adama has a great patio out back. C’mon, I’ll show you.”
We follow her out of the hot, thick air inside the house to the clean, clear oxygen outside. There are some kids hanging out back here, talking or making out. Strangely the making-out kids make Trevor more uncomfortable than the kids drinking.
The patio is a complex pattern of bricks, with outdoor furniture around an unlit fire pit. This is hedged by wooden boxes of flowers, leading down to a carpet of dark green grass. It really is a nice yard.
“Your parents don’t mind you having this many people over?” Trevor asks Adama casually, setting his cup of untouched flat pop down on the flower box ledge.
Adama smiles maliciously and gives a low laugh.
“Guess they probably would if they knew. But since they’re in Paris, I doubt they’ll suddenly show up.”
“You don’t worry they’ll find something when they get home to indicate . . .” He waves his hand in the noisy direction of the house. “All of this?”
“Dude, I’ve got years of practice. They travel a lot.” Adama laughs at his little joke, joined by Ella and Beth. Trevor looks at me like, This is fun to you?
“I’ll be back,” Trevor says to me.
“Bathroom’s through the door and down the hall to your left,” Adama tells him. Trevor nods as if that was his intention, but I know him. He’s retreating—taking a break from what is completely different than anything he’s done before.
As he goes in the house, Beth and Adama begin making out. Ella rolls her eyes and scoots over next to me.
“You got him here, but he still seems like the same old Trevor,” she says. I shrug, and she looks thoughtfully toward the house where he disappeared. “Well, maybe not exactly the same. He dresses differently. Looks a little looser. Maybe your plan is working.”
“Maybe,” I say, not really wanting to discuss Trevor with her.
“He’s actually kind of cute, don’t you think?”
My camping tent conversation with the cheerleader pops into my head. This is sounding like a repeat.
“I guess,” I shrug.
“You haven’t hooked up with him, have you?” Her question, instead of horrified as it would have been a couple of months ago, comes out sounding hopeful. I don’t want to play this game again, not with her.
“Not yet,” I say and grin provocatively.
“Thinking about it then?” She’s disappointed.
“Maybe,” I say, knowing that will keep her away from him at least for a little while.
“Well, I guess there’s always next year after you’re gone.” She laughs, and I smile through clenched teeth. She gets up as Trevor walks back outside, and as she passes him, she drags a hand across his chest.
“See ya later, Trev,” she purrs.
“It’s Trevor,” he says, and my heart skips a little at his correction.
“Whatever,” she says with an alluring smile.
Trevor sits next to me, stiff with tension. He looks at Beth and Adama, who are still going at it, and lets out a soft sigh that is full of distaste.
“Having fun?” I tease.
He gives me a slight smile.
“I’m sorry, Jen. I’m trying to. This just isn’t my thing, you know?”
“Yeah, I do know.”
He grabs my hand and threads his fingers through mine. I let him even though it sort of undoes the whole secrecy thing. I figure he needs it. Maybe I do also, a little.
“Guess this must be how you feel when we’re with my friends, huh?”
“They’re not so bad. I’m kinda getting used to them.”
“Used to them,” he repeats softly. He looks at me, eyes sad. “Guess this goes back to that odd couple thing, huh? There doesn’t seem to be anywhere we’re both comfortable.”
“There are lots of places we’re both comfortable,” I argue. “We just have really different friends.”
“And interests,” he adds, looking back through the doorway into the house.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say.
“No, it’s okay. These are your friends, and if you can get used to mine, I can get used to yours.” His words are brave but laced with doubt.
“I want to go.” I squeeze his hand, and he looks at me to see if I’m telling the truth or just trying to let him off the hook. Trevor doesn’t belong here, not yet. I suddenly, urgently, want to get him out of here.
“You sure?”
“Yes, let’s go.” I lead him around the side of the house, not even stopping to tell Beth we’re leaving.
“Don’t you want to go in and say good-bye?”
I smile at him. Only a truly polite geek would think these kinds of kids would care about the niceties of society.
“No, I really don’t.”
We’re around the side of the house, where vines drape both against the house and all along the fence above precisely trimmed bushes. The plants have the effect of silencing the din, giving the side yard the feeling of a private refuge. Trevor stops suddenly and pulls me into his arms, kissing me until my head is spinning.
“Thank you,” he says, leaning back. “I know you’re leaving just for me.”
I pull him back in, and he capitulates easily, kissing me again.
“Thank you,” I say, as he straightens up, “for coming with me in the first place.”
He leans toward me again.
“It’s okay,” he says, grinning. “It’s turning out to be pretty fun after all.”
I didn’t know it was possible to kiss while smiling, but I’m finding out it is.
14. Klaatu Comes in Peace
My phone buzzes at six in the morning, and I don’t even bother to open my eyes to see who it is calling me so early.
“Yeah?” I grumble into the phone.
“So, thought you said you hadn’t hooked up with him?”
“What?” I feel like I’ve stepped into the middle of a conversation. “Is that you, Ella?” I pull my alarm clock closer, squinting at it, as if that will change the time it reads. “Why are you up so early?”
“I’m not up. I haven’t been to bed yet.”
I think about how many times I had come home at about this same time in the past. I groan into the phone.
“Well, I have been. You woke me up.”
“Sorry,” she says, sounding anything but. “You told me you hadn’t hooked up with your little pet yet. But that’s not what I saw.”
Her words bring me sharply awake, and I sit up.
“What are you talking about, Ella? It’s too early for riddles.”
“You and Trevor. I saw you last night. I was looking for you, and Ben told me you had left, leaving from the side yard, so I went to see if I could catch you. I saw you and Trevor there, going pretty hot and heavy.”
She sounds angry, and I rub my face, trying to read into her deep silence.
“Well, El, you know how guys are,” I stumble, trying to find footing in this strange conversation. “Sometimes you’ve gotta convince them in other ways.”
“You haven’t been with him that way before?” She still sounds put-out.
“No,” I lie. “I mean, you gave me the idea last night.”
“I did?” Now she sounds upset with herself, which is better.
“Yeah, I mean . . . he was a little upset by the party. Put yourself in his shoes. He’s never been exposed to anything like that before.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
“So if I don’t want him to run away, tail tucked between his legs, I have to do something to keep him coming back, right?” I wince at talking about Trevor like this with Ella.
She laughs. “You know, Jen, you’re a lot more devious than I suspected.” I cringe at her assessment, mostly because it’s true. “Well, keep it up, girl. I’m going to hit the sack. See you next Saturday?”
“We’ll see,” I say, hanging up. I lie back, but there won’t be any more sleep for me now. Her words keep running through my head, and I sit straight up again. Somewhere in my game, I have come to respect Trevor, respect who he is and even his geeky values—my objective is to strip that respectability away from him, to make him more like me.
I should let him go, I think. He’s not too far gone. I can stop now—step out of his life. That would be easy for me. A new foster family will most likely mean a new school, and he can move on, forget about me. I’m sure mousy Mary Ellen will be glad to once again be the object of his affection. My stomach clenches at the thought of Trevor with her.
Even as I think of it, I know I’m too selfish to really follow through. I’ve been considering staying with the Grants, at least until I graduate at the end of next year. If I’m being honest, I have to admit I like them a little.
Then there’s Trevor. I know there isn’t any possibility of anything real between us, but I’ve had more fun with him over the past several months than at any other time in my life. I drop my head into my hands, scrubbing my face as if it will help solve this dilemma. I get up and walk over to the mirror, and I notice a third picture of Trevor and me stuck below the first. Where did that come from?
I pull the picture down and look at it. We’re sitting on his trampoline, and I’m laughing into the camera, looking not at all like me, while Trevor’s eyes are on me, lashes shadowing his eyes, dimples in evidence. I haven’t seen this picture before, but I remember this day. Todd took it with his new camera, which explains why we’re off-center and angled toward the corner of the photo. I press it against my chest.
There’s one way for us to be together, I think. I can’t ever be good enough for him, not the way he is now.
If I accomplish my original objective, though, if I bring him down, then he’ll be on my level. Then Mary Ellen won’t want him. Then we can truly be together.
⊕⊗⊕
I can hear Trevor in the backyard, cheering. I walk around with a smile and watch as Todd, jumping on the trampoline, drops to his bottom, bouncing a few times before climbing back up onto his feet. Trevor cheers as if he’s done an amazing trick and leans over the edge to give Todd a high five. Todd is grinning ear to ear at his little brother. Then he catches sight of me over Trevor’s shoulder and yells.
“Jen-Jen!” He always says my name twice.
“Hey, Todder,” I call back, and he laughs at my name for him. He scrambles down to run over and give me a hug. I watch all of this from my peripheral vision since my eyes are on Trevor, who turned as soon as Todd called my name. He’s smiling at me and doesn’t look mad or disgusted with me like I thought he might.
“Todd!” Carol calls from the doorway. “Come on in now and get something to drink and get some sunscreen on.” Todd easily dehydrates and burns in the sun and heat.
“Hi, Jen. How are you today?” she asks me. Ever since my foster mom defended my name, she has called me Jen, which is uncomfortably personal. I almost wish she would go back to calling me Jennifer.
I walk up to Trevor as Todd and Carol disappear into the house, holding a DVD in front of me like a shield.
“Klaatu comes in peace,” I monotone.
“Is that—?”
“The 1951 version? Yep.” I wobble the DVD from side to side. “I wouldn’t bring you the—let’s see, what did you call it?—the ‘uninspired drivel that is th
e remake’? Did I get that right?”
“It wasn’t all that bad, I guess. At least not when I watched it on DVD.” He waggles his eyebrows at me in comic suggestion, and I laugh, remembering. When we watched it on DVD so that I could appreciate, as Trevor explained, the differences between the two versions, I seem to recall spending a good portion of the remake lip-locked with a certain sci-fi geek.
“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” I ask, smiling at him hesitantly.
“Do you need to be?” he asks.
“Well, you haven’t called since Saturday night, so I thought maybe . . .”
“Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Todd was having an off day yesterday. By the time we were done with that, it was pretty late.”
Todd sometimes has what Trevor and his parents refer to as “off days” when he spends the day with behavior issues ranging from crying to throwing tantrums to refusing to get out of bed.
“So you’re not mad? You know, about the party.”
Trevor walks over to me and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close.
“Why would I be mad? They’re your friends, and if that’s what you like to do, then . . .” He leans over and kisses me quickly. “I’m not interested in trying to change you, Jen. I like you just the way you are.”
Guilt slices through me.
Mistaking the look that crosses my face, he asks, “Do you want me to be mad at you?”
I shrug and look away so he can’t read the shame in my eyes.
“Might be kind of fun to make up,” I say off-handedly.
He laughs at that.
“Okay, I’m really mad at you then.” I look up into his guileless green eyes and sigh, giving myself over to his contagious calm.
“I’ll let you forgive me if you kiss me again,” I tease.
The dimples come out, and he sighs melodramatically, looking skyward as he pulls me closer with a smile.
“Man, the things I have to do . . .”
Then he’s kissing me again—maybe not quite as sweetly as before but still by far nicer than anything I’ve experienced.
⊕⊗⊕
“Do you want to call the guys over to watch the movie tonight?” I ask.