“Humph.”
At my discontented and less than confident muttering, Kate lifted her head from her homework again. “Aw Camie…he will eventually you know. I know it’s frustrating and seems like it’s taking forever, and he’s being kind of a jerk, too, but I promise, you still have his attention.”
“How can you tell, Kate? I swear…I could be a ghost as far as he’s concerned.” I’ve been feeling kind of dejected. I know it hasn’t been all that long—it is only Thursday, and I haven’t gone to a single social event either—but still… Even the mention of possibly being “corrupted” by Tristan didn’t have its usual nerve-wracking effect on me. This waiting crap is killing me, so now my stance is; if he’s gonna do it, then for the love of God, do it already!
“Well, that’s exactly it, Camie. Do you really think he’d go from being so in to you on Monday to ignoring you so completely the very next day? I’m telling you, he’s just laying low for a bit. I think Jeff’s verbal blunder on the phone really spooked him and now he’s trying to fly under the radar, so to speak. He doesn’t want either of us to put together anything that happened on Monday. Poor guy. He doesn’t have a clue that he was busted before school even started that morning, or that we’ve joined forces to bring him to his knees,” Kate said with a diabolical chuckle and then went back to her chemistry.
I have no other choice except to take her word for it, but let me just say loud and clear that so far, This. Sucks.
Friday afternoon rolled around and things were still a very disheartening status quo. I’ll be honest; I was in a pretty pissy mood by the time I got to English, too. I had a pop quiz in geometry that morning, which totally bites, and then I also had to bear witness to Teresa mooning over Tristan during our very short, eight-minute break between third and fourth period. Even the fact that—provided they have something to do with the English language—Mrs. Henderson lets us play games on Fridays didn’t help my mood much.
Our little group was playing what the guys were calling “Ebonics Scrabble.” The rules are simple: Regardless of how it’s spelled, if you can use it in a sentence, it counts. However, you actually have to use it in a sentence before you can count the points. To help you imagine how completely outlandish Jeff and Tristan got with this game, I want you to think about how many teenagers are so fond of swearing and using crude turns of phrase, as well as how popular “textese” has become. Honestly, Webster would be appalled. And like I mentioned, I think I have a fairly decent vocabulary, but being in the mood I was, I wasn’t using it in the most pleasant of ways. Kate kept throwing me looks of concern when I’d spell out my words, every one of them being overtly negative in some way. Then when I used them in a sentence, the words always came out snarky or bitchy. The guys, however, thought it was hysterical.
Now let me preface something here; even though a lot of them do it anyway, kids aren’t supposed to use cell phones in class. My parents, however, had explained to the principal that I need mine on at all times because of our family situation. They want to keep a direct line open to Jillian and me in case there’s a crisis with my mom so, I’m allowed to have mine on if it’s kept on vibrate and I’m not found abusing the privilege. Needless to say, this is the first thing that leapt into my mind when my purse started to dance towards the end of class. I should also briefly mention the three pairs of eyes that darted straight to the bag, which was doing its own version of the funky chicken. I felt beads of nervous sweat develop along my hairline when those eyes then transferred their attention to my alarmed face.
With true panic, I rolled over to dig my phone out. “Oh God.”
Kate knew why I get to keep my phone on, but the guys didn’t and I started to feel almost sick when she quickly and quietly filled them in about my mom. My hands were shaking by the time I fished my phone out and being too petrified to look at it, I handed it to Kate and held my breath. She slowly took it and almost immediately, her expression went from complete fear to one of relieved joy. She laughed and then showed me the text.
Derek: game on! time?
I swear I thought I was gonna either cry or pass out. Instead, I flopped face first into my cushion, moaning a few obscenities about how he’d scared the living crap out of me. Only I used some much harsher language than crap and didn’t actually say “he” or use Derek’s name at all.
When I finally recollected myself, Kate handed my phone back and I sent Derek a text informing him when to pick me up. I was not oblivious to the overwhelmingly curious looks passing back and forth between Tristan and Jeff while I did this either. They were both bursting at the seams to know what was going on, but they didn’t dare ask. Kate—God love her—didn’t say a single word; instead, she just sat there with an essentially blank look on her face. If they can be so damned secretive, then so can we.
All’s fair in love and war, right?
Later that evening, Derek and one of his friends, Brandon, showed up for dinner at my house about forty-five minutes before the game was supposed to start. My mom wasn’t feeling well so she was sleeping when they got there and my dad played host; something he’s been doing more and more since my mom’s diagnosis.
We were finishing up our food when Derek—who you just wanna bow down and worship his forethought for this—asked, “Hey Uncle Kevin, what time does Camie need to be home tonight if I’m with her?”
My dad started clearing the table and asked, “What time is your curfew?”
“Oh, well since I’m almost eighteen, I don’t have a curfew anymore, but when I was Camie’s age, it was midnight. My parents upped it a half-hour each year on my birthday, too.” Derek winked at me when my dad’s back was turned.
“Makes sense. Alright…it’s a little late, but I think Mandy will be fine with that.” He came back to sit at the table again and leaned back in his chair, looking at me thoughtfully. “Cameron, your mother and I have already talked about this and we want you to know that we understand how hard it’s been for you both, but especially for you, starting high school as a sophomore in a school where you don’t know anyone. We know you probably feel like you need to do what you can to fit in…we remember all too well what being a teenager is like and we understand how difficult fitting in can be. But, we also know what teenagers do and the things that go on at parties when kids don’t have parental supervision. Hell, your mom and I even went to parties where the parents stayed home and supplied the booze.
“What I’m saying is that although we trust you to make good decisions for yourself, we understand you won’t have control over anyone else. So, you have two rules to follow. The first being if you think you might not make it home by curfew, or you’re having a problem getting your ride to leave, you call me. I know it’s hard to be on time when you’re not the one with the car keys, so just call and let me know if you’re gonna be late...if I need to come get you, that’s fine. Which brings me to rule number two…your mom and I want you to know that you can be open with us about anything…we’d much rather have you be honest and safe, than put yourself in danger by lying because you think you might get yourself or a friend in trouble. That being said, you are under no circumstances to ever, and I mean never young lady, get in a car with someone who’s been drinking or doing drugs. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, Daddy, I won’t. I promise.”
“I mean it, Cameron. I don’t care if it’s Jesus himself behind the wheel, if He’s been sippin’ on His own homemade wine, you call for a ride home,” my dad said sternly with a hint of an evangelical tone in his voice. “You have our word that if there’s even a need for them at all, any repercussions for misbehavior will be very reasonable, but only if you’re honest with us and follow these rules. Are we clear?”
“Yeah. Crystal.” A new warmth of appreciation for my parents spread through me. I mean, don’t I have the best parents a teenager could ever have? And now you see where I get my “most-excellent” witticism from, too. Oh, in case you missed the first one, that was another nod to the mo
vie Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure.
My dad walked us out and told the three of us to be safe and have fun while we piled into Derek’s huge, 4x4 truck. As soon as he pulled out of the driveway Derek asked, “Okay Cuz, spill. What’s goin’ on?”
“Oh, umm, my friend Kate and I have this kind of siege planned for me to land this ridiculously hot and popular guy, and she thinks I should be at the games because it’s neutral territory, only Kate cheers and I haven’t made too many friends yet. It wouldn’t really do me any good to sit in the stands alone, you know? Plus, we both figure showing up with another guy is a bonus.”
“Oh, okay. There’s two of us though, who’s playing the role of the other guy?” He asked, nodding his understanding and agreement.
I didn’t even need to look at Brandon in the backseat. He was quiet through dinner and although there’s definitely something inherently alluring about him, that something also happens to be whispering a subtle warning that I think would be wise for me to just heed without question.
“Um, I think it’d better be you,” I told Derek and then turned in my seat to say, “No offense, Brandon…”
“None taken,” he said with a single, bored nod, never having shifted his focus from staring out the passenger window.
“Kissing cousins it is, then… So, who’s the guy?”
“His name is Tristan Daniels. He’s beautiful and I’ll hug him, and pet him, and squeeze him, and call him George. Hey! Maybe you can be a groomsman in our wedding,” I told my ultra-cool cousin and burst out laughing. I crack myself up sometimes. Incidentally, the whole George thing is from John Steinbeck’s Nobel Prize-winning novella Of Mice and Men. Or maybe it was from a Bugs Bunny cartoon. I can’t remember which.
When the guys quieted their own laughter induced by my snappy repartee, Derek started muttering to himself. “Daniels...Tristan Daniels... Why does that name sound fam—Wait, are you talking about the Tristan Daniels, the swimmer?”
“Yeah! You know him?!” I asked with surprise. I don’t know why I’m so shocked about this, though. Although this is a big town, a lot of kids’ parents grew up together which means most of them still keep in touch with each other, making it common for their children to know each other, too, even if they don’t go to the same school.
“Uhhh...kinda. I don’t really know him, but he’s something of a legend in water sports…I think he and I used to swim for Heartland a few years back, but I know for a fact our school has never won a polo game or a single swim meet he’s competed in. I mean, he’s fuckin’ fast… Hey Brandon, do you know anything about a guy named Tristan Daniels?” Derek called over his shoulder to his friend who, according to the chirping coming from the backseat, is now playing Angry Birds on his phone.
“Uhh…yeah. Actually, you do too. He’s that guy our cheerleaders were all gaga over at that football game against them this year…the pre-season scrimmage one. Remember they all followed him to that huge Grossmont party after the game and we were all pissed about it?”
“Oh yeah, you’re right! He was! Ha! Camie, if you pull this off most of the guys at my school will shout praises for you from the rooftops. There’s nothing we hate more than when a shark preys on the fish who live in another guy’s sea.” Just so you know, I’m not so sure I like being compared to a fish, but I’ll take the praise nonetheless.
“Oh I totally forgot to tell you about this, but he’s the guy who got Samantha to do the things she broke up with Josh for wanting her to do with him…”
“How do you know that?”
“Because Sara never logs out of her phone’s email account and she left it at my house one night…I was bored and thought she’d probably have some good reading material in it. Damn, you should’ve read all the shit Samantha told her about him.”
Derek gave me a sideways glance, considering whether he should get the lowdown now or wait until I wasn’t around. Unfortunately, he went with now. “Well I know it bugged him that she wouldn’t have sex with him, but Josh’s bigger pet peeve was that she refused to even let him go down on her or vice versa…” Ahhh!! No, stop there please! I don’t think I need to hear any more than that!
“Yeah, well, she didn’t refuse anything that night. This guy hit a goddamned grand slam at that party. Here’s the fuckin’ funny part though…Josh totally owes him because from what the email says, she doesn’t mind doin’ any of it anymore and afterwards, instead of getting her number or giving her his, he actually talked her into getting back together with Josh! I mean this guy is like my fuckin’ hero!” Nice. So yeah, I’m pretty glad I listened to that whispered warning.
“How in the fuck did he do that?! Dude, I remember when they broke up and she was adamant that it was over…I was totally blown away when they got back together.” By the way, I’ve almost become invisible while they’re talking about some cheerleader and my heartthrob—the apparent slut that he is.
“Well, evidently she felt like she could trust him or something and kinda had a mini-meltdown about the break up or some shit…she said he wasn’t just a really great lay (kill me now please), but a good listener, blah blah whatever, anyway, he said a bunch of sensitive bullshit and by the time her clothes were back on, it was like nothing happened and she called Josh right then and there. I forwarded the email to myself if you wanna read it.” I hate to admit it, but I almost want to ask him to copy me on it as well. What is wrong with me?
“Yeah, I want to because damn, that’s impressive…” My cousin said, nodding his head. Brandon went back to his phone and game, and Derek found a place to park. Then all of a sudden, he remembered how they got on the subject of Tristan in the first place. “Hey Bran, Camie’s trying to take him outta the game.”
After hearing what Brandon had to say, though, I’m not so sure Derek is as okay with that anymore, however, I’m reconciling myself with this over abundance of information. Honestly, it really shouldn’t have come as such a shock. Although I’m sure they’re not, it seems like almost everyone around me is having sex. And I mean it’s not like I expect Tristan to have a halo and wings, you know? Kate even told me that he hooks up with girls a little more than occasionally; it’s just that she used far more tact informing me than Brandon.
We got out of the car and then for the first time tonight, Brandon actually looked at me. Well, it was more than just a look… He totally checked me out, his disarming perusal of me ending with a sly tilt of his lips. “I bet she can do it, too.”
“Hey! Cut it out, you jerk. That’s my little cousin you’re leering at.” Derek punched Brandon in the arm. Hard.
“Hey!” Brandon laughed and rubbed his bicep. Then he looked at me again. “I’m just sayin’…” He left the statement hanging and winked at me.
Aw, that’s so sweet…of both of them. My problem now is, though, if Derek’s reacting to his own friend like this, what’s he going to do if Tristan looks at or even talks to me? And, what’s Tristan going to do when he sees me with Derek, who isn’t so random as I’d thought?
Apparently the answer to those questions is not a goddamned thing. (Ugh…sorry God.)
We arrived at the game kind of late so the stands were already filled with the majority of the crowd’s attention engaged on the field. I waved at Kate and Melissa doing a cheer on the track in front of the fans, then the three of us made our way up the metal stairs to find seats in the bleachers. Holding hands and slowly, just to make sure he got a good look; we went right past the row where Tristan was sitting with Jeff and Pete. Although his eyes most definitely zeroed in on my “date” and his face registered some kind of reaction, he didn’t do anything else. In fact, the irritating Prince of Passiveness and his previously sex-starved sidekick actually had the nerve to get up fifteen minutes later, leaving Pete and the game altogether.
I sat through the next two and a half hours uninterested in both the game and listening to some girl in front of us literally breakup with her boyfriend via phone; however, I did eavesdrop with half an ear. I
t sounded like the only reason she did it was because her friends don’t think the guy is “boyfriend material” and/or “good enough” for her. Derek shrugged, non-committal, but Brandon rolled his eyes and shook his head, looking like he wanted to smack all four girls upside their heads for their idiocy. Anyhow, when the game was over Derek and Brandon wandered over to the snack bar before it closed, and I moseyed down to the track to meet up with Kate.
“Hey! Wasn’t that just an awesome game?!” Kate enthused, bouncing up to me in a flurry of blue and gold pom-poms. I told you, Kate’s spunky.
“Yeah, it was a lot of fun except your boyfriend’s slutty best friend is a pain in my ass. Did you see them leave?” I asked with a fair—okay, large—amount of annoyance.
“Yeah, I know. He definitely took note of you, though, so that’s something,” she said in a more upbeat manner than I could appreciate at the time. “But um, why slutty?”
After Kate heard my new intelligence she shrugged her shoulders and grimaced. “Yeah, Jeff told me about her...Tristan was in a really big funk when that happened so I think he felt weird or something about that whole thing. Maybe I should’ve told you, but, he doesn’t talk about his sex life, Camie, and he’s bound to have some skeletons…we all do in some way or another.”
“Hey! What’s up?” Melissa asked as she joined us equally cheerful as Kate had previously been.
I sighed. “Nothing…I’m just cranky and starting to think there’s no way he’ll wanna waste his time with me.”
Melissa frowned. “Why would you be a waste of his time?”
“She just heard about a massive conquest…” Kate answered with another grimace.
Melissa’s eyebrows rose as her mouth formed a silent “Oh.”
“It’s not just that…it’s…well, it’s kinda, I don’t know…embarrassing…” I said, dropping my eyes to the ground, my face beginning to heat.
Shark Bait (The Grab Your Pole Series) Page 9