by Sheri Duff
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Natalie, Vianna and I enter through the back gate. The usual culprits hang on the cement slab under the covered patio. Once Vianna spots Hunter she ditches us. Tyler won’t give Natalie the time of day, but he isn’t interested in anyone else, either. I keep catching him looking at Natalie. Oh, yeah. He isn’t over her yet. Half a dozen other people from school wander in for the showing of an Eighties comedy with a dancing gopher on a golf course. Andrew always picks the movies. They’re always comedies and never from this era.
Andrew has a date tonight. With the redhead from our school—finally! They make the cutest couple. Andrew and the redhead hold hands and laugh. Her blue eyes sparkle when Andrew speaks.
I drop off the soda on the table, which is covered with various non-alcoholic beverages. There are tubs of popcorn, chips of all varieties, and Andrew’s homemade salsa. The no-bake cookies will come out later, after Mrs. Sheppard had made sure nobody is allergic to peanut butter. They are gooey and chocolaty and one of my most favorite things in the entire world. My mom tried to make them for me, but hers turned out dry.
Vianna cuddles close to Hunter on the grass, front and center.
I push Natalie into Tyler. “Oh my God. Talk to each other,” I say. I force the issue by making them take a seat on the patio couch. When the movie begins, I squirm in my chair, watching couples nuzzle close and hold hands. Groups of single kids scatter away from the couples. I’m stuck next to Natalie and Tyler. At least they’re talking.
Natalie hands me a Pepsi. “Bottoms up,” she whispers.
I take a swig, expecting alcohol. What I find is that nasty mix of orange soda and cola. I turn to spit it out but I can’t spit on the cement. I force myself to swallow. I pull myself up from the seat and search for something else to drink.
Andrew is tossing everyone Popsicles. I’ve been chucked a cherry-flavored one.
I don’t want to watch the movie sitting next to the cute couple. If they start kissing, that will be way too awkward. Now that the sun has gone down, I’m starting to feel the chill in the air. The Popsicle isn’t helping. The days are still warm, but I should have brought a blanket or at least a heavier jacket.
I walk to the side of the house, where another group of kids gather. Colby and his friends. “Need a drink?” Colby asks, holding up a can of cola. “Loosen you up a bit.”
He makes me sick. I can’t believe Andrew invited the pig. Then I notice the redhead’s best friend standing next to Colby, and it all makes sense. She’s Colby’s date. I want to smack her. She’s too pretty for him.
The side gate opens and in walk a half-a-dozen football players: the nice ones, the ones who play their asses off but don’t make varsity, the ones who will never make varsity because they aren’t mean enough, the ones that haven’t lettered yet because they don’t get enough reps on varsity, the ones who aren’t trying to score with anything that moves.
Behind all of them is Jack.
When he walks through the gate, I can feel my face flush.
“Who invited Mr. Tough Guy?” Colby hollers. He’s sporting his ugly Northridge jacket. Colby’s the one who doesn’t belong.
Jack ignores Colby.
“Hey, dickhead, you can go home,” Colby says, like he owns the piece of grass he’s standing on.
Jack casually walks over to the cooler. He flips open the top, grabs a soda, and meanders back to his group.
“Hey, dickhead, I’m talking to you.” Colby covers his can with his thumb and shakes it.
Mrs. Shepherd’s voice slices through the chill in the air. “You can leave.”
Colby turns around and his thumb moves from the opening in the can. “Shut up, bitch.” The can explodes all over Mrs. Shepherd.
Colby looks pleased with himself until he realizes that he’s talking to someone’s mom. I’m sure his ass cheeks are tight now.
The nice-guy football players form a line.
Mrs. Shepherd pulls her shirt to her nose. Then she looks at Colby, who looks like he’s about to shit himself. “Listen up, you little punk. Leave! Now. Take all your so-called friends with you, too.”
Colby grabs his date’s arm. “Let’s go, Jamie.”
“Jamie.” Mrs. Shepherd’s voice is calm and low. “You’re staying here.”
Jamie pulls away from Colby with relief in her eyes. Colby shakes his head and heads out the gate with two other boys from Northridge High.
“Leave the booze.” Mrs. Shepherd says.
“Bitch.” Colby drops a glass bottle of whiskey on a decorative cement stump. The glass shatters.
“I’m gonna beat him into doll rags.” Jack starts toward the gate.
Mrs. Shepherd’s voice remains calm but firm. She looks at me and points to Jack. “What’s his name?”
“Jack,” I say.
“Jack.” Her voice snaps at him. Jack doesn’t hear her. His fists are clenched; he’s on a mission to destroy.
“Jack,” her voice lowers, demanding attention. He stops and looks back.
Ms. Shepherd shakes her head.
While the commotion calms, I finish my Popsicle and find the joke stamped on the stick. I loved these as a kid, even more than I love the stuff on the tea caps.
“What key won’t open any door?” I read out loud.
“A donkey,” Jack says in that voice that makes my heart jump a teeny tiny bit.
I turn red. I forgot he was here. Okay, I didn’t forget, but I also didn’t think he’d be standing next to me. It’s hard to look at him. I feel like an idiot every time I’m around him. I stare down at the Popsicle stick.
“Was I wrong?” Jack asks. I can feel him looking at me.
“What?” I lift my eyes. I probably look like one of those flirty girls in the movies. I’m not trying to. I feel so unbelievably stupid. It’s hard to even complete a sentence without squeaking or making a complete ass out of myself.
“The joke. Was I wrong?”
“Oh. No, you were right.” Really? I can do much better than this, I know I can. Why does he even stand here and talk to me? There are a ton of prettier girls at this party that could engage in a conversation, or at least try.
“I’m Jack.” He extends his hand.
“I think we’ve established that.” Oh, I’m not touching his hand. I’ll die. Now I sound like some love-struck teenager standing in front of their favorite celebrity.
“And you’re Massie.” He pulls his hand back.
“Yep. That’s me.”
“I’m trying to start over.” Jack stuffs his hands in his pockets and peers over me.
Great. I’ve messed this up again. I try to recover. “It’s just…”
I stop. Really, what am I gonna say?
Sorry I can’t formulate a sentence. I think I’ve fallen in love with you. Not that I’ve ever fallen in love with someone I don’t know because I haven’t. I actually don’t believe in love at first sight; it’s ridiculous if you ask me. I don’t even know if I believe in love at all. But I do know that you’re the sexiest thing that I have ever seen in Pine Gulch, if not anywhere.
“Oh, I’m an idiot. That guy the other night. The guy on the field. You have a boyfriend.” Jack looks around like Blake will pop out of the movie screen.
“No!” Wow, I actually pound that out loud and quick. I’m thinking I even stomped my foot. How embarrassing. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I lower my voice. “He was…but he cheated on me.”
“Dumbass,” Jack says with a huge smile. Yep, dimple in the chin and perfect teeth. “Whatcha say we go and watch a movie?”
I follow him to the grass and we sit. I can’t get close enough.