Dealing with Blue

by Stacia Leigh

  She let go of the window to pry his fingers off the metal track, but his grip wouldn’t budge. Where was her pink hammer when she needed it? She picked up the next best thing, a paperback romance, hoping to bang on his knuckles with the spine, but unfortunately, he let go.

  “Plus, I need your number!” he yelled as she joyfully slammed the window shut.

  She stuck out her tongue, like a three-year-old, heaping embarrassment on top of embarrassment, before wrenching the blinds down. So immature. Not him, her…okay, him, too.

  With her eyes squeezed shut, she flopped back against the pile of twisted up blankets. How humiliating! J.J.’d seen her boobs, and now the jerk would tease her mercilessly about it. He’d tell his buddies, The Mouth, laugh with Gemma. Hey, guys, look! It’s Flash, my convenient pretend girlfriend. Hugs for jugs at her window. Ha ha.

  She knew she couldn’t trust him. How could she show her face at school? She’d have to work triple time at the bakery now to get out of Overdale as fast as possible. A fresh start—that’s all she needed. Anywhere but here.

  Suzy crawled across her bed and turned off her alarm before it went off. Might as well get ready for school and face the blunt end of reality.

  After a quick zip under the shower, Suzy stood in front of the bathroom mirror, taking in her freshly blown hair that hung down her back. At this point, she’d ordinarily spin her hair on top of her head, clip it, and call it done. No fuss, no muss, and the best part? It usually bought her a couple extra taps on the snooze. She drew her hair around her face. Maybe she should wear it down today.

  No, better not. If she did, J.J. would think it was all for him, and he’d open his mouth, show off his white teeth against olive skin, and laugh that laugh, the one that invited everyone to enjoy his joke. Ha ha! Hot Flash is hot for me.

  Suzy yanked her hair back into a quick ponytail and went to her bedroom to dress in her favorite ocean-blue tee, the one that accentuated her curves. She had to stand tall even though slithering under the covers with her stuffed rabbit sounded way more enticing. She had to show confidence, some of that Blue strength, or she’d be shredded at the door. Chin up, walls up, hands up. Whatever it took. Go ahead, call me Flash. I can take it.

  She jumped into her favorite slim jeans and bent to wipe the dusty spots off her leopard shoes, powdered sugar left over from serving tea cakes yesterday at work. She picked up her backpack and zig-zagged down the hallway toward the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Suzette. You’re up early.” Mom pulled at the edges of the aluminum foil that covered a tray of cinnamon rolls, half a dozen. She sniffed them. “Hmm. Smells scrumptious. Thanks for these.” She scraped the frosting glaze from the foil with a table knife and licked the dull blade. “Sweet rolls and coffee…my favorite breakfast.”

  “They made too many yesterday. The perks of working at a bakery, unless you’re on a diet.”

  “No diet. Not yet anyway.” Mom laughed over a forkful of day-old goodness.

  “They’re better warmed,” Suzy said and squeezed behind the chair to grab a plate. “You should nuke it for about twenty seconds…with butter.” Yum.

  There was no counter space with the bags of mac and cheese still lining the surface. Suzy averted her attention to focus on her breakfast. Don’t look at the piles of stuff. Get in and get out.

  “That sounds good. I’ll nuke the next one,” Mom said and brought a yellow coffee mug to her lips and sipped.

  Suzy stacked loose papers and magazines into a pile and shoved it to the center of the table, making room to sit. She picked up a red and green woven potholder, one she’d made as a little kid. She’d found it last night while attempting to keep the wave of crap at bay. The trailer had sprouted a new level since she’d moved in a week ago. It was like living in a Black Flag hotel, a roach trap, where stuff checked in, but it didn’t check out. Instead, it grew roots and settled in for an eternity.

  Garbage day turned out to be a joke. The cans were barely half full. How did Dad keep things livable and safe here? Better question, why did he think it was his responsibility in the first place? It was like J.J. said, Hello? They’re divorced.

  Forget it. Breathe in, breathe out, and—oh, joy!—go to school.

  “Look what I found.” Suzy tossed the potholder onto the table in front of her mom as the microwave chimed. “I found it in the china cabinet in one of the drawers. You gave me that loom when I was in the first grade, and I wove potholders until I had blisters on my fingers. Remember?”

  “I do.” Her mom smiled and picked up the woven square, examining it. “You…found this in the china cabinet? What were you doing?”

  “Just cleaning up a bit. There were bags of expired newspaper ads blocking the doors, so I thought…” Suzy shrugged and poked her finger into the center of her warmed cinnamon roll. Perfection. She sat at the cleared table, across from her mom. “Anyway, it’s garbage day tomorrow and…is there anything else I can take out?”

  “No.” Mom plunked her mug down and coffee splashed on the table. She stared at the newly cleared cabinet. Her hands shook when she brought them up and covered her face.

  “Mom?”

  “I can’t believe you,” Marsha said through stiff lips. She dropped her palms onto the table top and slid them to grip the edge. “You threw my things away. I was saving those bags. Why would you do that?”

  “Mom.” Suzy widened her eyes and pulled back. “All of it was outdated from like, four years ago. I didn’t throw anything else away.”

  “You have no right to come in here and treat my personal belongings like trash.”

  “But it was trash.” Suzy leaned forward and held her palms out. “Only junk mail, the stuff you said you don’t bring into the house anymore, remember? From that show on how to get organized? So I thought it would be okay to toss it.”

  “You…you should have checked with me first.” Marsha’s blue eyes sparked with anger. “I use those newspapers to catch paint and glue. It’s how I keep my workspace clean when I work on my projects. It had a purpose.”

  “All I did was take out three bags, Mom.” Suzy gaped and pointed to the living room. “Look around. There’s still plenty, like the magazines on the coffee table. You have newspapers under the ironing board, and behind the sofa are sacks of used gift-wrap. You only need to keep one or two…throw the rest out.”

  If Suzy were texting Tessa right now, she could describe herself in two words: flabber and gasted. Surely, her mom could see the mountains of just plain crap that was everywhere. It wasn’t like Suzy threw away clothes or jewelry or creepy-critter-doll paraphernalia. No, only paper sacks of obsolete grocery ads, classifieds, financial pages, and old coupons. Why keep them? Ridiculous.

  “You don’t know what I need, okay, Suzette? I decide. Me.” Marsha stabbed a finger at the v-neck of her silk work blouse. Her mouth snapped shut with vicious finality, and she scraped her chair back.

  “You never throw anything away.” Suzy looked at her mom’s delicate back. On one hand her mom seemed vulnerable, but on the other, she was unreasonable and stubborn. Why couldn’t Marsha see the light? How could Suzy make her appreciate open space? “Mom, look at this trailer. If there’s a fire, you can’t even get to the front door.”

  “You know what?” Marsha spun around. “You sound like your dad, excuses upon excuses. Always telling me what to do, always trying to hurt me.”

  “No one is trying to hurt you. We’re trying to love you, but your stuff…it always comes first, doesn’t it? Before anyone else.” The words spewed out of Suzy’s mouth with no valve, no off switch, just full blast. You want hurt, lady? I’ll give you hurt. “I’m your kid, yet I’m pretty sure that dirty plate in the sink means more to you than I do. And Dad probably felt the same way. Isn’t that why he left?”

  The final word clung to Suzy’s tongue like a drop of acid. This was not the start to the day she’d imagined. She was trying to help. If she could get her mom to open her eyes, to really see the trailer the way
a normal person would, then…

  Suzy slumped in her chair. This was the pile of hurt that neither of them wanted to talk about, the one they’d successfully avoided for nine days.

  “Oh, here we go,” Marsha said and swished her hands through the air like a seasoned thespian. “The almighty guilt trip. I have to prove my love to you. You don’t have to, but I do. I don’t love anyone unless I’m throwing away my hobbies, the things I work hard for, things that make me happy…my life!” She snapped. She threw her mug into the sink, and it cracked against the plate. Creamed coffee splattered onto the counter. Marsha spun on her heel and wove her way to her bedroom. The door slammed, and the ceramic knickknacks rattled in the curio cabinet.

  Suzy blinked at her cold cinnamon roll. What had she done that was so wrong? She’d only wanted to help, to get things organized, help Marsha get back to reality, so they had a good place to start over. She wanted a normal life with a normal mother. All her mom had to do was… first cooperate, then throw stuff away. How hard was it?

  An overwhelming wave of despair roared through her insides, and she curled a fist against the ache in her chest. Oh, God. She had to get out of here. It was hard to believe, but she’d much rather be at school, and to hell with the flash jokes.

  She shoved away from the table, and with her fleece and backpack in hand, she bolted into the dark mudroom.

  And stubbed her toe.

  With an outstretched arm, she caught herself on the edge of the dryer. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest and through narrow eyes she glared at the crate that barricaded the path. It was another damned crate, this time filled with dirty flower pots.

  My God, where did this stuff come from? The back door, the only door, was blocked. Her breaths came out short and wispy and a shiver crawled up her skin. She was stuck. Stuck!

  Suzy felt a dribble of sweat run down her back. Oh, no, she was going to lose it. She panted, shoving the crate as hard as she could into a pile of soft laundry, then whizzed out the door, imagining that a raging blaze nipped at her heels.

  Get out. You’re free. Run!

  She pounded down the porch stairs and fell forward into the gravel off the last step, scraping her knees and putting a hole in her favorite jeans. Dammit! Hot tears burned behind her eyes, but she blinked them away. She jerked herself upright and ran. She quickly cleared the corner of the trailer and slammed to a halt. Face…meet white shirt.

  J.J.’s arms flew out. He caught the side of her tee in his fist before she could bounce back and fall on her butt.

  “Hey!” He righted her, and his green eyes scanned her face. “What’s wrong?”

  “I was stuck. I…I was…I was…stuck. It’s nothing.” She sucked in a deep breath and leaned forward. “Really. It’s nothing. I’m okay.” She brushed the grit off her knees and slowly straightened, touching the side of her hair. Breathe! “I’m okay, thanks. Sorry about that. I probably wrinkled your—what’re you wearing?” she asked, ignoring his concerned look and redirecting the conversation to his crisp, white dress shirt. “Is that a blouse?”

  “You’re funny.” He narrowed his gaze like he wasn’t ready to drop her frenzied “stuck” comment. But he did, thank God. “It’s called a dress shirt, and take notice, the top two buttons are open. It’s called style. I was heading over to knock on your door, risking a face-off with your mother, but you saved me the trouble, and seriously, I thank you.” J.J. nodded toward the picket fence. “Let’s walk. I don’t want to be late.”

  “Dressing up for the big Gemma reunion?”

  “Gemma.” He scoffed. “She thinks she can throw sappy words around, and I’ll crawl back like a whipped pup. Nope, not this time.” He hopped over the fence, then turned to wait for her. Sunlight glinted off the tips of his eyelashes. “I’m dressed up because we’ve got a hot date tonight, remember? Oh, did I forget to ask? I’m going to let The Mouth hear about it, and as you know, news travels fast. It’ll get to the right ears eventually.” He grinned like he had it all figured out.

  “Actually, you did forget to ask and look what I’m wearing.” Suzy glanced down at the hole in her knee, her favorite jeans ruined. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m assuming a hot date with you is eating cold fries at Grubby’s.”

  “Why don’t you ever wear your hair down?” He gently tugged the end of her ponytail. “It’s long. I didn’t realize it until you opened your window and put it all out there this morning.”

  “I knew it!” They hadn’t even left Badger Court, and he was already starting with the jokes. “Just drop it. That was an accident,” she bit out, stomping ahead of him as they cut to the paved drive.

  If he teased her again, she’d explode. Talk about festering emotions. Ugh! She clenched her fists. The big blow-up with Mom left her hollowed out and thin, like an onion skin. What if she started crying? Then, she’d really make a fool out of herself.

  J.J. touched her arm at the corner as they waited for the light to turn green.

  “Before I forget, what’s your number?” he asked, unfazed by her temper. He nudged her with his elbow and typed in the digits as she curtly rattled them off. The light turned, and she stepped off the curb to cross the street, only half aware of the students, buses, and cars that came from every direction toward the school. J.J. caught up to her and said, “I’ll text you later.”

  “Sure you will.” Suzy pulled away from him to merge with the herd into Overdale High, when a warm palm slipped into hers and lured her back. In the middle of the sidewalk J.J. kissed her temple and breathed in.

  “Gemma,” he whispered and squeezed Suzy’s hand, easing her into a slow walk beside him. “She’s standing by the shade tree, three o’clock. Boom. Holly’s beside her at four. We’ve got ourselves a two-fer.” He nuzzled her with his nose, and letting go of her hand, slid his palm to her lower back.

  He made it seem so effortless; she could be anyone he was cozying up to with murmurs and soft touches. A plastic mannequin could be propped up by his side, and he wouldn’t care. She was nothing special, only convenient. She needed rhino skin for this job. He could hurt her, ruin her. Why did she agree to this again?

  Oh, right. Driving and freedom and fun, fun, fun.

  Whatever. She wasn’t feeling it, but that’s what this deal was all about, right? Faking it. If she could pretend everything was okay at home, then she could very well pretend everything was okay right here. She’d seen the movie Picture Perfect with her mom just the other night, so how hard could it be? The main character had said, “It just feels wrong, you know?” and her love interest replied, “That’s the feeling that you feel right before it feels…incredible!”

  Suzy turned in the crook of J.J.’s arm, and her lips lifted into what she hoped was an alluring smile. With light fingertips, she caressed the side of his face and watched his brows climb up his forehead into his wild hair.

  “You…” She let her palm glide down his raspy jaw. “…are like a chilled bottle of sarsaparilla on a scorching hot day.” She made a hissing, sizzling sound through her teeth. “Tsss.”

  His mouth popped open like a hungry baby bird, and when she dragged her thumb pad over his hanging lower lip, he sucked in his breath. It was like having an out of body experience, watching her hand as it coasted down to rest on his chest. Who knew she was so good at acting? She squished her glossed lips into a puckered-up duck face and lifted her eyelids slowly, pretending her lashes were cast in twenty-four karat gold. The whole thing felt kind of ridiculous, but she was close to him, touching him, and her body tingled with heat. He smelled like soap and chewing gum.

  “I…” his mouth bobbed open and closed, and he staggered back. “I…uh…”

  “J.J.?” She shook out of her starlet role and took hold of his elbow. “Are you okay?” He swayed like he might fall on his face. “Do you need to go see the nurse?”

  He regarded her with wary green eyes that looked a bit confused.

  “Maybe,” he said. “Probably.”

  Can
we say longest day ever? Suzy had strained her hearing all day, listening for any talk where “flash” and “boobs” were used in the same sentence. She was tired of looking over her shoulder for J.J. as if she were being stalked or something. So far, she’d been lucky on both accounts. Suzy stopped by her locker to grab her pink spiral notebook for Mrs. Norton’s class and jumped when two dress-shirt arms boxed her in.

  Her luck just ran out. She turned with a scowl.

  “Does personal space mean anything to you? Pretend I’m in a bubble, and you can’t get any closer than this.” She swung her bent elbow out in front of her in a half circle, nudging J.J.’s chest and arms. “Look. You’re in my bubble. Don’t like.”

  “What happened?” He dropped his arms and eased to the side, leaning on the locker beside hers. He had that hurt-concerned look going on like someone kicked his tailgate on purpose.

  “I’m just not in the mood for this. The teasing, the pretending…” Suzy slammed her locker shut.

  “Did something happen?”

  “No, I just…” She glanced away.

  “Is this about earlier? Because this morning—”

  “God! If you call me Flash, so help me…that was an accident.”

  “Flash. Good one.” J.J. nodded his approval. “But I’m not talking about the skin tease.”

  “Keep your voice down!” Suzy pressed a cool hand to the side of her hot face and glanced down the row of gray lockers, praying for a Holly-free hallway.

  “I’m talking about when you ran out of your house this morning. You looked ready to burst. Is everything okay at home, you know, with your mom?”

  Suzy dropped her head and studied her shoes. Ugh, shut up. She was not going to discuss her home life with Mr. Cool. La la la. Maybe if she stared at her feet long enough, J.J. would give up and go away. In fact, look at that, a scuff on her left toe from where she’d fallen in the gravel. Proof that nothing stayed nice for long.

  “C’mon, Blue, you’re my girlfriend, remember? Let’s walk to class together, and if you play nice…” He nudged her. “…I’ll let you drive my truck.”