I was not in any shape for this conversation or an argument. “Um, yeah. I know it sounds lame, but apparently, this is something they do every year, something we have to do. Mac said we’ll pair up in teams, split up the houses, and all in one night, decorate the players’ rooms while they’re away at a team meeting.”
Pete was silent for a moment. “That’s bullshit! What if I don’t want you to?”
“I don’t have a choice. It comes with the cheerleader gig.”
“So while I’m working my ass off to win our game—cheerleader-less I might add—you’re going to be baking cookies and writing little love notes for those idiot football players?”
He could be so exasperating, not that he didn’t have a valid point. “I will not be writing any love notes!”
“I gotta go.”
“Pete.”
“What?”
“C’mon. It’s not as if I like any of those guys. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Whatever. Later.”
“Okay,” I said, disappointment seeping in.
The finality of the dial tone buzzed in my ear. I brought my knees to my chest and a few tears sprang from my eyes. Pete’s mad again over something out of my control, I’m horribly hungover, and I have mounds of work to do. Kill me now.
Pete acted petulant during school, not talking much, giving me perfunctory kisses and muttering sarcastic remarks. I lavished attention on him, illustrating how much he meant to me and conversely, how little the football players did. I hated missing his game, but I had no time to dwell on it as our cheer squad worked all afternoon and well past dinner getting the decorations ready for the big event.
The next night, the cheerleaders gathered at Mac’s house for Night Raiders. While the coaches kept the football players busy watching game films, we planned to sneak into their homes and decorate their bedrooms with Titan pride. The surprise was designed to lift the player’s spirits and motivate them to play harder.
Mac split us into teams, pairing me with Suzi, and off we went.
The players’ mothers treated us well, and most had made their sons clean up so we didn’t see what kind of slobs they were. Suzi had a crush on Darrin, one of the players on our list. I almost choked when she left him a love note, remembering Pete’s accusation. I would definitely keep that little tidbit to myself.
When we finished the last room, we admired our handiwork with smug satisfaction. A red and white explosion of epic proportion. Suzi and I drove back to Mac’s to regroup with the other girls and compare notes. Admittedly, the whole affair was fun, despite the angst it created with Pete.
The following day, at least fifteen hulking football players picked me up in the air at various times to say thank you. I appreciated their gratitude, but it didn’t score me any points with my boyfriend, who was sulky and sarcastic all day. He didn’t come to the game after school either, and sadness penetrated my cheers even though the Titans beat Fremont 14-6. When Pete didn’t return my calls once I got home, I went into freak-out mode.
I am totally spazzing! And also pissed! I don’t understand what Pete’s problem is, but he’s acting like a total jerk. I can’t help it if I’m a cheerleader and have to fulfill my expected duties, like Night Raiders. He’s SO jealous. SO petty. And SO insecure. I have never done one thing to make him feel that way. I love him and I show it!!! And now I think he’s breaking up with me! Part of me should be happy, like, good riddance, jerk-off! But I’m in love with him. I want to be with him. I just wish he would stop acting this way. I hate all this waiting. He won’t call. He didn’t come to the game. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I don’t know what to do. What should I do? H-E-L-P!
Jaime called and invited me over. I needed a girlfriend to talk to and jumped at the chance. We sprawled on her double bed on top of her rose-patterned bedspread. I filled her in on the Pete situation while we listened to records. She listened, but didn’t offer much advice, telling me it would blow over.
I caught her studying me. In a weird, intent way.
“What?” I asked.
“Can I do your makeup?”
Her request took me off guard and made me assess her own makeup. Too heavy, yet she pulled it off—always pretty and stylish.
I shrugged. “I guess. What did you have in mind?”
“Not sure. I’ll play around. Don’t worry, it’ll look great on you.”
“Okay, but nothing too drastic.”
Jaime beamed, bustling about her bathroom assembling her cosmetics. She set a chair in front of the large horizontal mirror and I dutifully sat down, eyeing the vast array of cases and brushes laid out. She had enough makeup to do the cast of Grease. An image of Olivia Newton-John flashed through my head, after she’d gone from the preppy and innocent Sandra Dee to Sandy the slut.
Jaime sponged on goopy foundation. “I think Reese is screwing around on me.”
“What? Why do you think that?” Her comment jarred me away from thinking about the thick residue tightening on my face, one of the reasons I didn’t wear much makeup in the first place.
“I found a girl’s phone number in his pocket last night.”
“Did you ask him about it?”
She stared at me like I was dense, then went back to sponging. “We were kissing goodnight and I slid my hands into his back pockets and out came this little piece of paper with some chick’s digits on it and her name—Janice. I said, ‘What the fuck is this, Reese?’ and he came back with some bullshit excuse, how it was a friend of his mother’s who needs her lawn mowed. As if!”
“What happened then? Did you get in a fight?”
“Ohhhhhh, yeah. A big one. I’m hella sick of his shit. It happens all the time. I mean, here I am, giving him one hundred percent, and I doubt he’s capable of returning even half that. He lies. I’m sure of it. I can’t trust him.” Jaime sat back and surveyed her work, then dabbled the sponge under my chin and down my neck. For such a terrible revelation, she remained oddly calm. Maybe she put up a good front.
“Pete can be a dick, too, but he’s loyal. What are you going to do?” She swiped near my ear and it tickled, but I stifled the urge to flinch or laugh.
“He called this morning and groveled. He swears he loves me and said he hasn’t been with anyone else since we started going out. I also don’t have any proof of him cheating…” Her voice trailed off as tears fell down her cheeks.
There was the emotion.
“I don’t know what to do. I love him.”
I squeezed her hand. “I’m sure things will work out.”
She composed herself and finished my face in silence, applying eye shadow, mascara, blush and lip color. She stood back again, a smile crossing her face. “Take a look at the new you.”
I checked myself out in the mirror, shocked at the transformation but not entirely convinced it was a good one. Now I’m Sandy the slut.
Reese strode into the room, planting a big kiss on Jaime’s lips and wrapping his arms around her. I turned the other direction, trapped in their private moment.
“Look at Anna. Doesn’t she look great?”
I turned and Reese stared, a strange expression on his face. “She looks like a prostitute.”
My mouth dropped.
“She does not!” Jaime said, her tone indignant.
“Anna, no offense, but that looks terrible.”
I didn’t disagree, not that I’d say it out loud.
“That’s exactly what I use on my face, Reese. She looks good!” She snatched up her pack of cigarettes, lit one and puffed explosively, throwing her lighter on the table with enough force to send it hurtling into the wall instead.
At that, he wisely said no more.
Silence engulfed the room. My throat went dry. I didn’t know where to look.
“What’s up with you and O’Reilly?” Reese asked.
I shrugged. “He’s mad I’m a cheerleader.”
He chuckled. “He’ll get over it. Hey, let’s double date tonight—d
inner and a movie.”
“You need to ask him. I’m not sure he’s even talking to me.”
“You better make sure your own girlfriend wants to go out with you,” Jaime said.
“Babe...c’mon. Don’t be like that.” He reached for her and she batted his hands away.
I stood. Being around them was uncomfortable, and they needed to talk or something. I could easily walk home. “I better go. Thanks for everything, Jaime.” I hugged her and whispered, “Give him a chance.”
Reese winked at me behind Jaime’s back. “I’ll work things out with Pete. Don’t you worry.”
Reese came through. Pete picked me up at six o’clock. I’d scrubbed my face clean—no small feat after the amount of cosmetics Jaime had applied—returning to my natural self. I endeavored to be my cutest and make Pete remember how much we meant to each other.
“Hi,” he said after I opened the front door.
“Hi.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk.”
I hugged him. “Are we okay?”
He nodded.
I yelled goodbye to my parents, who called out a greeting to Pete. My father told me to mind my curfew, as if it wasn’t etched into my brain. He could be such a broken record.
We drove to Jaime’s, piled into Reese’s black Mustang and headed to Berkeley. I didn’t sense any tension between Reese and Jaime. I guess we’d all worked our issues out.
We ate dinner at Salerno’s, my favorite Italian restaurant. The decor embodied old world charm, and a big map of Sicily painted on the wall reminded me of where my family originated.
I ordered beef raviolis, one of their house-made specialties, which came topped with a creamy marinara sauce. Pete chose the lasagna. Reese and Jaime had different entrees but ate off each other’s plates like an old married couple. We all shared warm bread and good conversation.
When we had stuffed ourselves to blissful satisfaction, we headed over to the Rialto Cinemas to see The Jerk. Steve Martin performed brilliantly as Navin Johnson, a total idiot looking for his “special purpose,” which got misconstrued for sex. We laughed through the entire movie and long after, discussing scenes and repeating the best lines.
Pete and I cuddled in the back seat while Reese drove back to Jaime’s house. We thanked them for a fun night out and I winked at Reese, my unspoken thanks for getting our double date together, and Pete and me back on track.
Pete drove me home and parked. We still had twenty minutes to kill.
“That was such a funny movie.” I giggled, remembering a scene where Navin dragged his dog, Stupid, by the leash, while saying his faithful dog led the way. “He doesn’t like these cans!” I said, pulling a line from the flick.
“Classic Martin.”
I touched his arm. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Dinner, the movie, the date.”
“My pleasure. It was nice to be together without fighting.”
I smiled. “Can I talk to you about something?” Not that I wanted to start another fight, but I had to ask.
“Sure.”
“Jaime thinks Reese is cheating on her. Is that true?”
Pete paused. “Yeah, he cheats on her.”
“Plural? You mean more than once?” I couldn’t believe it.
“Yup.”
“We should tell her!” Why didn’t he seem upset? I was ready to scalp Reese!
“It’s none of our business.”
“But she knows! She just doesn’t have proof.”
“And I’m not going to give it to her. Neither are you.” His eyes got that flinty look.
“But why? We’re like…secret collaborators or something. It’s not right!”
Pete’s jaw twitched. “Reese is my friend, and I’m not ratting him out, whether he’s wrong or not.”
“What do mean, or not? Of course he’s wrong.” Wrong-o-rama! As plain as the nose on my face!
“Like I said, that’s his business. Not mine, and not yours.”
“So you think what he’s doing is okay?”
“No.”
Thank God for that. “Wouldn’t you want to know if the roles were reversed and your girlfriend was being unfaithful?”
“Are you?” His eyes flashed, the hazel tint turning darker like it did when his mood changed.
“No!” I said, insulted he would even ask. “Answer my question.”
“Maybe. Yes, I guess. But I’m not going to do that because Reese is my brother. I get it sucks for Jaime, but I can’t do that to him.”
I glared. “It makes me a total traitor and a bad friend.”
Pete softened a tad. “She’ll figure it out soon enough. Then it won’t matter.”
“Maybe. I hope she doesn’t find out we know about it.”
“She’d be pissed off, but she’d understand.”
Doubtful. I had no more words.
“I don’t want to fight, Anna. We’ve done enough of that lately. Come over here, please.”
I moved toward him and leaned my head against his shoulder. He lifted my chin and kissed me with tenderness. My breath caught in my throat. I loved Pete’s kisses and their effect on me. I melted into him, my body turning toward his.
The outdoor light flicked on and off, and I cringed. “That’s not terribly subtle, is it?”
Pete grinned. “I guess that’s our cue.”
“Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize for your parents.”
“Father. Only my father would do something like that.”
“And I can’t blame him. If I had a daughter as beautiful as you, I would be watching your every move from that living room window…through binoculars.”
Pete walked me to the door. “Goodnight.” He moved a stray tendril away from my eyes. “And goodnight, Mr. Trapani,” he muttered quietly over his shoulder.
I laughed and let myself in the door.
27
White Christmas
“There are only ten shopping days until Christmas,” Pete said though the phone. “Whatcha getting me?”
I grinned into the mouthpiece, which I had wedged between my shoulder and ear as I painted my toenails bright red. “None of your beeswax.”
“I’ll take a copy of the new Police album, a six-pack of Beck’s and hmm, how about you make yourself available for my sexual amusement every day?”
“Done.” I smiled, the phone almost slipping off my shoulder.
“Wow, you’re easy.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. My turn now. First, I’d like to be taken to a fancy dinner followed by a movie with my handsome boyfriend—just the two of us. Plus a new car for when I get my license. A Porsche 911 with a whale-tail will do nicely. And let’s see, oh yes, a diamond ring, since that is my birthstone.”
“That doesn’t seem too extravagant. I think I can swing it.”
“Perfect.”
“I have to go, my mom’s calling me for dinner,” Pete said. “Rrrr rrrr rrrr.”
I laughed. That was our code for “I love you” when parents were listening in. “Rrrr rrrr rrrr back atcha.”
I replaced the cap on the polish, and admired my gleaming toenails. Red for Christmas. I quivered, thinking about the upcoming holiday. I couldn’t wait to give Pete his gifts and open his to me. This year promised to be much better than last...running into Alec Mays at the department store and the terrible way that ended. I shook my head, preferring to stay in the present.
I meandered into the kitchen and helped my mom finish making supper. I could tell my father was in one of his dark moods, and he’d already downed a few cocktails, which meant I better tread lightly.
After starting in on the wine at dinner, he criticized my mother about not ironing his shirts the way he liked and complained her knitting projects cluttered up the house. He followed that up with a lecture about my future—railing on about good grades, college applications and retirement accounts. My mother ate quietly, looking apologetic. It was anot
her banner evening around the Trapani dinner table.
§§
School closed for the holidays, giving us a two-week break from the grind and also cheerleading. With football season over, our squad prepared cheering at basketball games beginning in January. It better cause less friction with Pete than football. Not knowing a single basketball player should help my cause.
Vacation meant I could hang out with my friends and boyfriend, plus Christmas was my favorite holiday. I couldn’t wait to decorate the tree, help my mom bake the Italian S cookies and exchange gifts with everyone.
Our first week off, Mary and I went shopping for last-minute presents, baked goodies at Jaime’s house and caught a matinee. At night, our group partied in our secret spots throughout the Oakland hills.
A few days before Christmas, we gathered at Reese’s after his father left for an overnight business trip. The beer flowed and spirits were high. Reese, Pete and Jim were in the living room smoking a joint from a bag of weed Tez had scored. The girls hung out in the adjoining dining room playing Pass-Out. Not that we needed any help getting drunk, but this board game made it fun.
We set up the game, snickering at the sentence printed on the box top stating, Not intended for use with alcoholic beverages. Who were they kidding? The object was to drink enough booze until someone passed out!
Mary rolled the dice and moved her red piece seven spaces. She landed on the square ordering her to draw a Pass-Out card, which indicated she must Repent and join the prophets plus lose a turn.
“I have nothing to repent!” she said.
Jaime went next, moving two spaces to the square instructing her to Light up.
“I doubt they mean cigarettes, but that’s what I’m smoking.” She flicked her lighter and ignited one of her narrow Virginia Slims.
I rolled a five, my marker landing on a square that read, Take a drink. I took a swig of beer, recoiling from the bitterness and sick to death of the cheap brewskis we always drank.
Reese walked through the dining room with a few bottles of liquor. “Anyone want a real drink?”
“Hella. You’re a lifesaver!” I said.
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