by Stacia Leigh
“You and your gamer boyfriend,” she muttered and locked her arms across her chest.
“What’s with you?” J.J. flung his hands out. “He’s my best friend, not my boyfriend. What? You jealous of Will now?”
“It’s not about Will. It’s about the last time you called me.”
“Oh, man, here we go.”
“Exactly. This whole thing is about you, and you failed.”
“Failed? How can you say that? I even remembered last month’s anniversary! Unfail. Remember down at the lake with the strawberry wine and those frosted doughnuts…my idea.” Oh, yeah. They threw down sparks in the cab of his truck, too. Man, that was something, not even close to a fail.
“That was three weeks ago, J.J. You spend all your time with Will.”
“Are you insane?” J.J. scowled at her, eye to eye. Was she joking? He dropped everything whenever she called. He was always there for her. Always! He held his hand up and ticked off his fingers. “I take you out to dinner, to the movies. I let you drag me to the mall…”
“Drag? Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”
“It’s never enough with you!” J.J. tugged his hair, then tossed his hands up. “You’re mad all the time, no matter what I do. I can’t talk to any girls, and now I can’t talk to Will. Who’s left? Huh? Am I only allowed to talk to you?”
“What, you think I’m jealous?” Gemma’s glittery lips thinned into a cold line.
“Yeah, I do.” He dropped his shoulders. Tonight sucked. What happened to having a party with some laughs? He even brought a blanket, so they could have a hug-out by the fire. Now things were squeezing up to a greasy head, ready to explode.
“And you never feel jealous?” Gemma lifted her brows in astonishment. “What if I told you Ron called, and that he wants to take me to prom?”
“Ron Uccello…The Schemer? Are you serious? Besides, who cares about him? I trust you.” Ron was the one who couldn’t be trusted. Once again, the gonad lived up to his birddog reputation of trying to fuse with someone else’s girlfriend. Unbelievable.
“It’s not about trust. Don’t you get it?” She dropped her hands to her sides. “I think Holly’s right. You and I, we need some time apart.”
“Holly? What’s she got to do with anything? And time apart for what?”
“Time for me to think about things,” Gemma said. “Holly says you don’t appreciate me, J.J., and if you do? It’s time to prove it.” She spun in the grass and marched back into the meadow, but he was hot on her boot heels.
“Who doesn’t appreciate who? Huh, Gemma? It’s your loss because I don’t have to prove anything—”
“Cops,” Will said clearly and took a step back.
Headlights flickered through the trees where the cars were parked, and the entire bonfire party tensed. It went dead quiet except for the sizzling flames.
The cops? No way. It was a small party with no music. Wide-eyed looks were exchanged around the fire, and a wild energy thrummed, like a herd of deer ready to bolt.
J.J. glanced into the trees, ready to lay tread through the woods if—
A car door slammed, crunching leaves and twigs…
“Gemma!” A deep voice called, and it was Ron Uccello who broke out of the darkness, wearing a maroon sweat suit with the hoodie pulled over his short black hair.
What the hell was that poseur doing here?
Chapter 4: CTRL Z
Thank God for television! After eating tater tot casserole, Suzy and her mom watched Some-Guy-Named-Rick Does Barcelona on the travel channel, which required little to no conversation. Suzy wasn’t very good at small-talk, and her insides were raw from pretending that everything was fine when it really wasn’t. Saying goodbye to Dad, moving into this mess, smiling when she felt like crying…everything was not fine. So when Mom wanted to paint nails and get chatty, Suzy took it as her sign to enact the long, slow yawn. Oh, so tired…such a long day…really need some shuteye. And it was true.
But mostly, she’d needed to be alone.
“Sleep tight, Suzette,” her mom had said. Was there any other way to sleep in this house? Suzy navigated the maze of floor space back toward her room because there was nowhere to just be, to relax, except back behind her own bedroom door. She was safe on her side with her mom’s stuff blocked on the other.
Suzy dropped onto her lavender quilt beside her old stuffed bunny and the black tackle box still strung up with a card and a pink bow. Dad and his practical gifts. He’d given her pink handled tools: a claw hammer, a tape measure, a screwdriver set, and a pink level. Under the tray were small packages of nails, anchors, and picture hanging wire. She shook her head and smiled. Where did one buy pink handled tools, anyway? She re-read his card: It’s been my experience that everyone needs a screwdriver. Now, you have your own tools. I love you and miss you already.
Oh, Dad.
He would want her to unpack and get settled, not sit here and feel sorry for herself. But the faint din of Saturday night traffic and parking lot noise pressed against the tin walls and called to her. Energy thrummed outside.
Inside, her room was clean and organized and all hers, but the word “cubbyhole” didn’t even begin to describe it. Her space turned out to be three steps long and two steps wide around her monstrous, queen-sized bed. The thing barely fit. So as it turned out, pacing like a lunatic in her new leopard print shoes wasn’t a very good option.
She crawled across the foot of her mattress to the window and watched a few car lights slowly go by. Everyone had someplace to be.
Maybe some crisp, spring air on her face would soothe her mind. She worked at popping each corner of the window screen off its track, tucked it out of sight under her bed, then sat in the open frame with her legs dangling in the black night. Engines hummed and tail lights blinked as more cars made their way out of Badger Court.
She pulled her phone out of her fleece pocket and texted her best friend.
SUZY: I’m here and I’m bored. Inspire me.
TESSA: On a date…groping…can’t talk now.
SUZY: Lol, Mr. Leather Jacket?
TESSA: He’s either gay, a monk, or has a serious girlfriend…
TESSA: Or he’s just not that into me.
TESSA: Now my sights are on Laser Eyes. Call you later?
Suzy tucked her phone back into her pocket. Too bad about Mr. Leather Jacket. Tessa had crushed on him for a couple weeks. Suzy kicked her feet in the darkness.
She sat on a launching pad to freedom and was already halfway out with her legs, her arms, her nose…
She should push off. Be wild and crazy for once. Why not? Tessa was making her own fun, Dad was on the other side of the world, and Mom was lost in a three-hankie movie. Suzy had nothing but time on her hands. With a fortifying breath, Suzy shifted onto her haunches and gripped the aluminum frame.
Do it! Now. Jump before you change your mind. Her eyes widened. Be free!
She let go and fell into the March night.
Zipping energy pulsed through Suzy’s veins, and she trembled because she’d never snuck out before. She’d never even thought about it. Good little Suzy had jumped into the night from her window, and now she lurked outside her own room like a wild raccoon.
She’d flown the coop without a real plan in mind, so she’d walked the entire loop of the trailer court while relishing the quiet. After putzing around for almost an hour, she’d circled back to her own trailer, making mental notes on which curtains were askew, and which rooms had lights on.
The Blue Room was the most interesting by far. On the outside, it was dark and shielded by drawn fabric. On the inside, a locked door. Mom must be storing something extremely important or valuable in there. All stuff to ponder later, because right now Suzy had more pressing concerns, like why had she left her light on and her window wide open…without a screen. It was like a homing beacon for moths, mosquito hawks, and inquisitive neighbors. Super sneaky, Suz.
Her shoulders sank. It hadn’t seemed
like the window was all that high until she bounced out on her rear end. Now, how was she supposed to get back up there? She shook her head and shivered, no longer from excitement but from the chilly, forty-degree temperature seeping into her fleece jacket.
Somehow she had to get in the same way she came out. She couldn’t very well walk in the backdoor with her mom up and watching TV. That would be some tough explaining and not a good way to start things. She sucked in a cold breath and swiftly made her way to the front of the house. It was time to put a dead plant to rest.
After breaking off the dried stem, she shimmied the heavy flower pot off the porch stairs as quietly as she could before tugging it through the grass to her side of the trailer. She eyeballed her planned trajectory from the ground into her open window and situated the clay pot accordingly. There, that should do it. She stepped up—here goes!—and lunged toward the bright light.
The pot tipped, and she yelped, grasping her bedspread in her fists. She pulled herself and pulled again but only hung there with her belt buckle lodged under the metal track.
She paddled her feet and rocked her hips back and forth, then clawed at her quilt, trying not to slip back too far. If she fell, she’d probably peel the skin off her arms and ribs or break her tailbone on that worthless flower pot down below. A broken butt plus sitting on a doughnut in class equaled… No. It was simply mortifying and not an option. Where did she go wrong with her plan? Oh, right. She didn’t have one. Now what?
Suzy froze with her rump out in the air. What was that?
Footsteps!
Oh, God, oh, God! She clenched the fabric and bicycled her legs, praying this time she’d drive herself right up into her bedroom. The only way out of this was to fall backward, but what if she stabbed a kidney on a shard of terra cotta?
“Nice butt, Blue. What are you doing, exactly?”
Suzy went limp and planted her face on the bedspread. Ugh. Why, of all the people, did it have to be J.J. Radborne, a.k.a. Mr. Cool? With her rear end hanging out, no less. Nope, she couldn’t even sneak out of her house with grace, and apparently it was too much to ask for a little privacy while she made a fool of herself. Wasn’t he supposed to be off partying in some meadow?
“What does it look like? Could you give me a shove? I’d sincerely appreciate it.”
“Hmm. I’ve gotta nice view here. I’ll have to think about it.”
Silence.
Suzy looked over her shoulder at J.J., who stood back, sipping from a brown bottle.
“Now would be nice,” she said sweetly.
“Are you climbing in or out?”
“In and my belt buckle is hooked. Do you mind…could you help me, please?” She hated pleading, but her fingers were stiff from clutching the blanket so tightly. She was cold and stuck and beached like a—
The blanket slid, untucking from the mattress.
“Hurry, I’m slipping!” Suzy scrambled to keep her balance.
“Hang on.” J.J’s hands planted on her denim pockets, and he pushed.
“My belt buckle’s stuck,” Suzy said urgently and glanced across the bed at her closed bedroom door. God, what if her mom heard all the commotion?
“Let go. I’m right here.”
“I can’t. I’ll scrape the skin off my ribs.” Suzy shuddered as visions of blood, stitches, and blow-up doughnuts danced in her head.
“Let’s try this.” He wedged his shoulder between the metal siding and her dangling legs.
Her cheeks tingled with warmth as her knees rested against his chest. He gripped her hips and flames shot up her neck. So embarrassing! Before she could protest, he lifted her, and the belt buckle unhooked from the frame. She was free.
“I’ve got you,” he said, banding his arms around the backs of her thighs. “Let go, and I’ll bring you down on my shoulder like a fireman’s hold.”
“Okay.” She uncurled her fingers as J.J. inched away from the window.
“I’m out. You can put me down,” she said and sagged with relief. But he playfully squeezed her legs and packed her out into the shadowy yard. “J.J.,” she knocked on his back with the ridge of her knuckles, “I said put me down.” Hello? She meant business.
“You’re at my mercy, now.” He chuckled and swung her in a slow circle. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he slapped a hand onto her backside. “Watch it, or you’re gonna fall.”
“Stop spinning, or you’re going to make me barf!”
“Uh, oh. What are people going to think when I tell them I've had my hand on your butt?”
“Who would care? Just put me down…now.” Someone here was going to die tonight, either her from severe humiliation, or him, and he’d better watch it, too. He’d never seen her go full blitz. She kicked, and he laughed with glee, tightening his hold as he swung her around again.
“Will might care,” he taunted, slowing to a stop, and she clutched the back of his jacket as her brain continued to swirl.
“What about Gemma? I bet she’d care.” Suzy gulped and squeezed her eyes shut as her stomach churned uncomfortably.
“Yeah, you’re right. She probably would care.” He planted her feet in the grass, and as she weaved in front of him, he blessed her with a devilish smile. “And that gives me a very good idea.” He stepped aside to pick up an open bottle that sat in a beer carton nearby and took a long swig.
“Are you drunk?” Suzy narrowed her eyes.
“No. This is my one and only.” He held up the dark bottle. “But I wish I was drunk because tonight totally…it sucked, man. First, there was Gemma, then there wasn’t. Then, I thought maybe there could be. But I said some things, you know, things I probably shouldn’t have, and she broke up with me, so…no. No Gemma.”
“Hmm. Sounds complicated, and as much as I’d love to stand out here in forty degree weather and chat about party drama, I need to get back in my house.”
“Stay,” he said, watching her. “Have a beer with me.”
“No, thanks.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s too cold.”
“Alright. Tomorrow, then.”
“Sure, whatever,” Suzy said, shaking her head. He must be drunk. Overdale’s party animal, a.k.a. Mr. Cool, was asking her to have a beer with him on a weekend night? Should she cuddle with her phone and wait for it to vibrate? Please.
“C’mon.” J.J. strolled back toward the window and righted the potted plant lying on its side. “Step into my hand. I’ll hike you up.”
“How’d you get the beer anyway?” Suzy stepped into his clasped hands. He lifted her, and she hoisted herself in, face-planting on her bed. She pulled her feet inside and looked back out the window, down at J.J.
“Will’s dad’s a biker, and those guys like to party. His buddies are over all the time, so their fridge is kept stocked. Will and his brother…they help themselves. No one seems to care.” J.J. shrugged, hands on his hips, and grinned up at her with green eyes fringed with insane eyelashes, wild-man hair, grungy jeans, coat hanging open, and an empty bottle hanging out of his pocket. All bad and all cool. Very cool.
No, he wouldn’t be here tomorrow. That would be crazy. Gemma would call him and want to hang out, and he’d go because, duh…J.J. and Gemma. They were a thing. Besides, he was in a different league, and she had her eyes on someone more her speed, Charlie Russo in Mrs. Norton’s class.
“Thanks for your help,” Suzy said.
“Later, Blue.” J.J. leaned down to pick up the carton of beer bottles at his feet. He waved, sauntered across the lawn toward his house, and jumped over the rickety fence like he did it all the time.
* * *
The tall, damp grass slapped at J.J.’s denim legs as he crossed the yard. If it dried tomorrow, he’d better mow it, or he’d never hear the end of it. He pulled the empty out of his coat pocket and dropped it into the carton with the other five unopened bottles of stout. Will’s dad had good taste.
J.J. ducked under the highest step of his back porch to hide the beer behind the
wood lattice frame, bounty for another time. Spring hung in the air and even though it was forty-something degrees out now, with each night, it got a degree warmer. It was officially bonfire season.
Gravel crunched behind him.
J.J. jerked upright, let go of the beer, and cracked his melon on the deck in the process. He swore and rubbed the back of his panging head before glancing over his shoulder.
“What’cha hiding, li’l bro?” A voice sifted out of the darkness followed by a bright white t-shirt that glowed ominously in the porch light. Oh, hell. It was his big brother, Monty, a.k.a The Boss. Monty stepped out of the shadows like Captain America, wide legged and ready for action. He really should have joined the military. Even his shaggy Mohawk stood at attention.
Monty was the oldest and always had to play the role of in-house babysitter for as long as J.J. could remember. Whenever Mom and Dad needed a break, Monty was there, smacking heads and bossing everyone around like a pro. It was all great back in the day and everything, but now J.J. was sixteen, and he didn’t need a sitter or a third parent. Two was plenty.
J.J. nudged the beer into the shadows with the toe of his boot.
“Man, quit creeping around.” J.J. rubbed the back of his skull again. “You made me hit my head.” How long had Monty been standing over there anyway?
“So you been out drinking?” Monty asked, but his tone said he already knew the answer.
J.J. tilted his head back and still wasn’t able to appreciate all the stars in the sky. First Gemma broke up with him, then Will blew chunks all over his truck door, and now The Boss was in his face. Would he ever get to a point where he could look back on this night and laugh? Because right now, he wanted to CTRL Z the entire day.
“It doesn’t matter to you how our uncle’s a raging alcoholic? You want to be like him, is that it, huh?”