by Kate Brian
Tisha Morales continues her antishaving protest. Day 13. Leg hair is beginning to braid itself. . . .
Ryan Gibraltor has a hard-on again. Must've fallen asleep in AP bio . . .
Does Michelle Horowitz really not notice that her foundation is ten shades darker than the skin on her neck ?
And then she saw him--just a glimpse of his shaggy blond hair through the slim window in the wooden door-- and she stopped breathing. Riley Marx. He was laughing as he entered the caf, glancing over his shoulders at his
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buddies. Eva would have killed to know what they were laughing about.
He's wearing his Mr. Bubbles T-shirt today, she wrote, her hand suddenly shaky. You've gotta love a guy in a Mr. Bubbles T-shirt.
Actually, Eva had to love this particular guy no matter which of his myriad pop culture tees he was sporting. He didn't care what the other guys thought of him, even though his social position had yet to be defined at Ardsmore High. Unlike the rest of the male population of this school, Riley Marx was undoubtedly human.
And Eva had been fantasizing about him regularly ever since he'd arrived. There was the fantasy where he first spoke to her--when he came up to her in the hallway after classes and told her that he'd read her latest poem in the lit magazine and it had touched a chord deep within him. There was the one about their first kiss, sitting at the edge of the water at Huff Lake with champagne and candlelight. . . .
Even her friends knew about that one--the fantasy first kiss--but she never told them who the guy was. That part of the daydream was all hers. Besides, she knew it was never going to happen. Eva could hardly ever get up the guts to talk to any guy, let alone a man of perfection like Riley Marx. But the fact that it was impossible didn't make the crush any less intense.
"Hey."
Eva blinked. Riley and his friends had just walked by
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her table and Riley had lifted his chin and said "hey." Had he been talking to her? Was that even possible?
Oh God. What if he was talking to me and I didn't say anything and I was just sitting here staring into space like a complete wastoid? Eva blinked. Did I just use the word wastoid?
Eva flipped to a new page in her notebook and started to write frantically. Riley Marx had potentially just spoken his first word to her. At least ten pages of rambling were definitely in order.
"So, any special requests for your birthday, sweetness?" Eric asked as he pulled to a stop in front of Mandy's sprawling house that night. They'd met up after their respective team practices--football for him, volleyball for her--so Eric could drive her home. Mandy's VW Bug had been in the shop that morning getting the oil changed and the tires rotated, but it was back now, parked in the driveway, gleaming in the waning sun.
"You don't have to get me anything," Mandy said.
"Yeah, like that's gonna happen," Eric replied.
"Well . . . whatever," Mandy said happily. "If it's coming from you, it'll be perfect."
Eric put the car in park and turned to look at her, his blue eyes mischievous.
"Speaking of. . ."
Eric pulled his backpack out of the backseat and Mandy smiled. It was October 15.
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"You know what today is," Eric said, fishing a small gray box out of his bag.
"Eric, you really don't have to keep doing this," Mandy said, even though she loved it. Eric grinned as she opened the box to find a tiny crystal penguin with black eyes and a tiny nose looking up at her.
"Oh! It's so sweet!" she said.
Ever since their first-month "anniversary" Eric had been giving her one Swarovski crystal animal on the fifteenth of every month like clockwork. Mandy had started collecting them when she was nine, but thanks to Eric that collection was now beyond impressive.
Mandy still remembered how touched and surprised she'd been when he'd given her the first one--a tiny sparkling turtle. He'd only been in her room once at that point and had asked her about the collection casually. But that was Eric. He was pretty much the most thoughtful guy she'd ever known.
She closed the box and kissed him on the cheek. "You are the best boyfriend ever," she added.
"What can I say?" Eric joked.
"Now you really don't need to get me anything for my birthday," Mandy said.
"Well, I was thinking, my parents are going to be away, and since we've been talking about it a lot lately ..."
Mandy's heart thumped and she felt a stirring in that place she was still surprised could be stirred by mere words.
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"Nothing's been decided decided," she said. Little did Eric know, Mandy had decided. She'd decided that this was it. Eric was going to be her first. She loved him; that was the most important thing. But furthermore, if they kept doing all the things they'd been doing and not having actual sex, she was fairly certain she was going to spontaneously combust.
She bit her bottom lip as Eric leaned toward her. His brown bangs fell over his eyes and her breath caught in her throat as his lips touched hers. For a few blissful minutes Mandy forgot that they were sitting right in front of her house, where anyone could see them. When Eric finally pulled away, his breath was warm and quick on her face.
"Just say you'll think about it," he said.
"Oh, I will," Mandy said. "A lot."
She gave him a special sort of smile and felt naughty. Deliriously naughty. It was a nice change.
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Chapter 2
The next morning Mandy sat at the kitchen table, munching on her usual breakfast of Cheerios and bananas. She flipped through the pages of the new Princeton course catalog that had come in the mail the day before, but as she flipped through classes like Philosophy of the Modern Mind and Race, Racism, and the American Experience, all she could think about was Eric. Eric unabashedly grabbing her hand at lunch, risking some serious ribbing from the rest of the guys, who were so anti-PDA. Eric calling her up on Sunday morning to let her know whether or not the comics were worth reading. Eric telling everyone at his last family barbecue how his girl was going to make the All State volleyball team for the third year in a row.
Mandy giggled, then sighed. No wonder Debbie is always gagging in front of us. Maybe I should tell him, she thought,
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imagining Eric's face when he learned that she did, in fact, want to have sex with him on her birthday.
Maybe I'll tell him before gym. That way if he gets all worked up, he can take it out on the soccer field, Mandy thought, blushing. Or better yet, I'll tell him before football practice. The swinging door to the kitchen opened and Mandy focused her attention on the catalog, hoping her mother wouldn't ask her why she was all red in the face. She had a spoonful of Cheerios and banana slices halfway to her lips when her mom sat down across the Formica table from her.
"Mandy . . . ," she said, rubbing her palms together. "We should talk."
Mandy put her spoon down again as a knot of foreboding formed in her stomach.
To the casual observer her mother would have looked just as put together as always. She was wearing a pair of tan silk slacks and a black silk top, her hair was smooth and sprayed down, and her gold jewelry was all in place. But Mandy could see the dark circles under her eyes that her makeup was unable to hide. Something was definitely wrong.
"What's going on?" Mandy heard herself ask. Her voice sounded strange.
"Well, I don't want you to worry, but . . . it's about your father," her mother said, looking her in the eye.
Mandy went numb. "Is he sick?"
"No, no, no. Nothing like that. He's . .. well... he's .. . Honey, he's being investigated for tax fraud."
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Mandy clasped her hands together under the table. Where the hell was this coming from?
"Tax fraud?"
"Everything is going to be just fine," her mother said quickly. "But things just may be a little tight around here for a while. Maybe a long while."
Mandy forced herself to breathe in and ou
t.
"Did he ... I mean ... he didn't--" Mandy couldn't even bring herself to ask.
"Of course not," her mother said firmly.
Right. Of course not.
"But sweetie, they may freeze some of our accounts, and this kind of thing could drag on. . . ."
Her mother's eyes traveled toward the Princeton catalog. Mandy's heart thumped.
"You may want to start thinking about looking into state schools," her mother said finally, looking ill.
"But Mom--"
"Penn State is a great school," her mother interrupted.
Mandy bit back the protestations that were bubbling up in her throat. The very idea of going to Penn State instead of Princeton made her sick to her stomach. Princeton was where she had always wanted her to go--it was her parents' alma mater, the place they had met. They had made yearly visits to the school every homecoming. She had never thought of going anywhere else, had always imagined herself on Princeton's lush, historic campus. Could all that be taken away?
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"Mandy, really, it's going to be okay," her mother said firmly. "I'm sure everything will get back to normal . . . eventually. We're just going to have to pull together here and support each other."
Mandy closed the Princeton catalog, feeling a tightness in her chest. She couldn't not go to Princeton. How could they be taking away her college fund when her father hadn't done anything wrong? It just didn't seem fair.
"You can do that, right, sweetie?" her mother said.
Mandy nodded, not even sure what the question had been. Her mind was too busy. The scholarship. The Treemont scholarship. She had never even considered applying for financial aid before, but before, she'd never thought she would need it.
My friends will die if I go for it, she thought. No. They'll kill me.
"Mandy?"
Mandy took a deep breath and tried to focus. "Is Dad okay?"
"He's fine. Just a little stressed," her mother told her. "He should be home for dinner tonight."
"Okay."
"And Mandy, when you see him? Just. . . tell him you love him."
Mandy nodded resolutely and sat up straight. Her parents needed her to be strong and handle this like, well, like an adult.
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"Okay, Mom. Whatever you say."
"That's my girl," her mother said with a smile. She walked around the table and kissed the top of Mandy's head.
Mandy felt herself relax. She could handle this. Her father was no criminal. The charges would eventually be dropped, and until then Mandy was going to blow her parents away with her ability to be mature. And she was going to look into this Treemont thing. What would it hurt to just look into it?
Her mother went about preparing her coffee and Mandy forced a spoonful of food into her mouth. Poor Dad. She could just imagine him sitting in his office at Marcel Corp, where he was the CEO, frowning and tap-tap-tapping his silver pen against his desk in frustration. She wished he had told her about this himself so that she could have hugged him right away and told him she knew everything was going to be all right.
Later. I'll tell him later. The next time I see him, she promised herself.
In the meantime she had a math quiz to think about, then volleyball practice, then a quick SADD meeting, and then tonight--Eric. She had to focus on reality and forget about this craziness for now. There was just too much to do. Mandy got up from the table and grabbed her things.
"I gotta go, Mom," she called out. "I'll see you tonight!"
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* * *
Here he comes, here he comes, here he comes, Eva thought, watching as Mr. Greenleaf shuffled along the aisle at the end of English class, slapping papers down onto her classmates' desks. Eva's stomach hurt--on her personal torture list, waiting for papers and tests to be handed back was number five.
She took a deep breath. Okay, just let me get a B, she begged silently. I'll be fine with a B.
Mr. Greenleaf paused next to Eva's desk. She could smell that acrid, unplaceable scent that clung to every one of his heavy, elbow-padded blazers. Eva stopped breathing. He didn't move. She looked up and caught a glimpse of the white stubble under his chin. Greenleaf
smiled.
"Ms. Farrell," he said in his pseudo-English accent.
"Nice work."
He held out her paper and Eva gingerly took it out of his hands. There, at the top of the first page, was a little blue A with a circle around it. Eva's body temperature skyrocketed. Rob Garner leaned over, straining his neck to see her grade, then pursed his lips and eyed her, impressed.
"If anyone wants to see what I expect in a paper on Shakespeare, please ask Ms. Farrell to lend you hers," Mr. Greenleaf announced.
Everyone around Eva shifted in their seats, staring down at their own grades, and Eva wished, as she did so
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often, for the ability to disappear. Luckily, a few moments later the bell rang and everyone rushed for the door.
"Lemme see, lemme see!" Debbie called out, catching up with Eva at the front of the room. Eva handed over her paper as she shrugged into her backpack. Debbie's mouth fell open. "You are so lucky. That guy never gives out As! Greenleaf will definitely write you a recommendation for the Treemont thing."
Eva's skin reddened and she looked at the floor as she walked. "I don't even know if I'm gonna apply."
"If I hear you say that one more time, I'm going to pants you right here in the middle of this hallway," Debbie said, pointing a warning finger at Eva. "Don't test me. Do you want the entire school to see you in your pink Hanes Her Way?"
Eva rolled her eyes, smiling. "They're not pink," she said, brushing by her friend. They're purple.
Eva paused at her locker, and before Debbie could say anything else, Danny Brown appeared out of nowhere, grabbed Debbie's arm, and crushed her against his chest.
"Debbie, Debbie, Debbie!" he growled, tightening his grip until Debbie bulged her eyes comically. Eva shook her head and looked away. Danny was Deb's most frequent hook-up partner, but something about him icked Eva out. He was always grabbing her and tossing her around like she was a football. He seemed to take it for granted that he could have anything he wanted from Debbie, anytime he wanted it. And they weren't even
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boyfriend and girlfriend. Eva didn't understand how her friend could be attracted to the guy. He was so . . . slimy.
"So, you comin' over tonight?" Danny put her back on the ground and Eva saw him brush Debbie's chest with his hand as he reached up to straighten his backward baseball cap. There was a distinct leer on his face. Debbie giggled and shoved his arm, but Eva felt a lump rising in her throat.
"Sure," Debbie said, flipping her curly hair over her shoulder. "I'll be there around eight."
"Sweet," Danny said. He hooked his thumb through his belt loop and eyed Debbie up and down in a way that made Eva squirm. "See you then." He winked before loping off down the hall.
"Wait a second, Danny again? What about Sam?" Eva asked.
"Sam was Friday night," Debbie said with a shrug.
"I don't know how you keep them all straight."
"That, my friend, is what the kiss list is for!" Debbie announced, producing a well-worn journal from her bag. It was black velvet with a pair of hot-pink lips on the cover: the book in which Debbie kept her infamous kiss list--a rundown of the guys she'd fooled around with, how far they'd gone, and even how good they were.
"You brought it to school?" Eva asked.
"I figured I'd show it to Kai," Debbie said. "Now that she's in Club Tattoo, she might as well know all my secrets."
Debbie opened the book to the latest entry. "Check it
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out. I had to knock Sam down a few stars for the bra incident." Next to Sam Crispo's name were four stars, but three of them were scratched out.
In blue ink it read: Sam is a master of the slow, sexy kiss. It took him forever to get up the guts to go for the bra clasp, but I let him take it off. He's just too yum
my! 'Then in black, obviously added later: He brought my bra to school. This merits immediate removal from the Circle of Trust.
"You're insane," Eva said.
"I like to think of it as organized and self-aware," Debbie said.
Eva laughed. "How many guys are in that thing now?"
"Um . . . a lot," Debbie said.
Eva raised her eyebrows.
"What? They're not relationships. It's not like I'm breaking any hearts," Debbie said. "I'm just . . . kissing my frogs."
Eva sighed and slammed her locker. She had no idea why she was still shocked by Debbie's cavalier attitude toward guys. I should be used to this by now. Maybe if I had that many guys wanting to kiss me, I'd suddenly be a kissing bandit, too.
Eva instantly felt bad for thinking that way. She's just popular. There's nothing wrong with it. Right?
"Seriously, Eva." Debbie shook her head. "You have no idea what you're missing."
"Yeah. Maybe," Eva said. But she wasn't so sure. As far as she could tell, there was only one frog around here
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worth kissing, and she knew that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.
Eva sat at the second-to-last desk in the semicircle of seats in one of the English classrooms, which afforded her a view of everyone else in the room--all the better if she happened to notice anything worthy of her creative- writing notebook. She sighed and glanced at the clock as Mr. Simon, the head of the guidance department, went over the requirements for the Treemont.
They had to have this meeting during fifth period, she thought. Right now Riley might be walking to the cafeteria, and I'm missing him!
The door to the classroom opened and Eva's heart stopped beating.
Apparently not, she thought. Riley Marx was, in fact, stepping into this room. His brown T-shirt had a Hershey bar on it and read, I Live for Chocolate.
Eva's skin tingled all over as an image popped into her head--his hands in her hair, the total love in his Caribbean blue eyes as he pulled her toward him. Oh God. Last night the daydream had gone further than ever before--all the way until he'd leaned her back on the warm picnic blanket, deepening the kiss. . ..