Generations 2.7 kindle

by Folkman, Lori

  Darla didn’t look offended, but she did look a little disappointed. “But I will buy this hair pin today,” Katrina added. She quickly swooped her arm to her right and snatched up this little barrette. It looked sixties-era. It had these red glass flowers on it. It looked kinda grandma-ish, but kinda cool as well. It would look great in Katrina’s curly hair. And it was only fifteen bucks.

  After Darla took Katrina’s money, she looked at Ben for seemingly the first time, like she’d been so immersed in conversation that she hadn’t even realized Kat brought a friend. Someone could have stolen a thousand dollars worth of jewelry and the lady would have never noticed. No wonder she was gouging Katrina—Darla must have a lot of lost revenue to make up.

  “Oh,” she said with a little gasp. “Hello handsome! Aren’t you going to tell me who your friend is Katrina?” This seventy-year-old lady was flirting with him. She even batted her eyes. Ick. That’s not cougar. What would you call that … sea turtle? Ben subconsciously took a step backwards.

  “This is Wyatt,” Katrina said, lacing her arm through Bens, like she was claiming him. Like she needed to worry.

  “Wyatt?” Ben asked after they left Darla’s booth. “Where’d that come from?

  “I don’t know,” Katrina muttered, her arm still tucked through his. “It just popped into my head. I think it was because of that western booth next to Darla’s.”

  “You sure it’s not a boyfriend or something?” Ben teased.

  She nudged him with her elbow. He had to smile. He was having fun, surprisingly. At a flea market. But they were done … they’d walked past every booth. “Do you want to go get some ice cream?” he asked. And then he sorta flinched. It was only about eleven o’clock: not really ice cream time.

  “Yeah, sure,” she responded without hesitation. “There was a booth, back there by the entrance. They should be open by now.”

  He had a better idea. “How ‘bout we go somewhere else? Down to the pier maybe.”

  Which is what they did. Katrina ordered chocolate with bananas and peanut butter for her bottom scoop and chocolate with marshmallows and nuts for the top scoop. He was beginning to notice that Katrina was a serious chocolate junky. She’d want to tame that beast before she hit thirty, or she’d turn into a chunky monkey herself. He knew all about what women’s metabolisms did as they got older; he had his mother to thank for that. And he knew all five-hundred diets available to keep the pounds away. His mom was always depriving herself of one thing or another. But not Katrina. She seemed to indulge. And thoroughly enjoy it. He loved watching her enthusiastically attack her ice cream. As well as seeing her try to hide the fact that it made her uncomfortable that he was studying her so intently.

  After the ice cream, they went for a walk on the pier. Ben knew it was a bit of a romantic cliché, but he couldn’t think of another nearby option to make this little morning date last longer. And besides, nothing was more relaxing than the ocean. And relaxation meant great heartfelt conversation.

  While they were beginning their walk, Katrina had said, “I have never done that before,” to two various statements. Obviously that sparked an idea; she asked him if he’d ever played the game “I Have Never.”

  “No. I have never played the game I Have Never,” he said facetiously.

  “Well, you play it with tokens, or money. Actually, I think it’s a drinking game. But since … ya know … we don’t play it that way, we usually use chocolate.”

  “Why is that not surprising?” He made sure to smile so she wouldn’t think he was rude. But she looked slightly embarrassed anyhow.

  “Well, anyways, you say something that you have never done, but that you know the other person has done. Come to think of it, I’ve never played with just two people before. But it will still work. So if I name something that I have never done, but you have, you owe me.”

  “Owe you what?”

  “I don’t know. Quarters or something.”

  Ben reached into his pocket. He didn’t have a lot of change. And he wasn’t really lookin to make any. “How ‘bout we play for something else?”

  “Like what?

  “That necklace.”

  “What?”

  “The ugly big-Bertha necklace. You lose and you have to go back and buy it.”

  “Kay. But what if I win?”

  “If I … lose,” (not gonna happen. That word wasn’t part of his vocab.) … he had to think of an appropriate punishment if the unlikely happened. He was making her buy her most unwanted item from the swap meet, so shouldn’t he have to go back and by that T-shirt? No. He quickly dismissed that. Some things weren’t worth the gamble. “Let’s just say that I will owe you.”

  She looked at him warily. That probably wasn’t the deal she wanted. “I can hound you … to redeem if necessary?” she asked.

  “Yes. But it won’t be necessary.” On both counts. He wouldn’t lose, And he wasn’t going to be getting disconnected from her any time soon. Not like some company that sells gift cards and then goes out of business.

  So the game started. Ben let Katrina go first, since he was just her apprentice.

  “I have never spent two hundred dollars on a T-shirt. A used T-shirt.”

  “Ah,” Ben realized, “that’s how you play this game. Attacking privileged information. Got it.”

  “Not really. At least you’re not supposed to be that obvious. I was just using that as example.”

  Katrina had to urge him to respond. He didn’t think that he needed to answer something that she already knew. So he told her that yes, he had spent two hundred bucks on a used T-shirt before. “And more sometimes,” he added, just for the sake of honesty. “My turn?” he asked. He knew the perfect question. Well it wasn’t a question, but whatever. “I have never bought tacky jewelry just to be polite.”

  She actually stopped walking and turned to look at him. Her mouth was open slightly, like she was miffed. She blinked once and closed it. Was that the key to her composure—the blink? He’d have to be on the watch for that. “My, aren’t you the quick learner,” she mocked.

  Then she didn’t say anything else. “Aren’t you supposed to respond?” he asked. She’d made him reply after all.

  “Okay. Yes, I have bought tacky jewelry before. But … it wasn’t just to be polite. You could consider it more of … a donation.” Katrina explained that Darla had been battling cancer the last few years. The doctor’s would think they got it all and then a few months later it’d pop up again and she’d be back to getting chemo three times a week. And Darla didn’t have retirement: she’d always been self-employed. So she had to keep working, despite being sick.

  Oh. That was why Katrina had a hard time saying no to that hideous necklace.

  “Why don’t you just give her money then—if you really don’t want her stuff?”

  “‘Cause she’d never take it. She’s proud, ya know. But if she thinks she’s doing something good for you ….”

  Hmm. Was this game supposed to be serious? Ben hadn’t imagined that playing Katrina’s chocolate bartering game would get them discussing some impoverished sick woman.

  “Kay, were even,” Katrina jumped in. “My turn. I have never crossed an ocean.”

  “Seriously? You’ve never been to Europe? Or Hawaii even?”

  “Nope.”

  Katrina had to urge Ben to share details again. In this case, he had to share everywhere he’d traveled overseas. Long list. All of Europe. Italy, of course. Greece. Dubai. Only one place in Africa—Cape Town. He didn’t have to include all the hot spots in South America and Mexico: no crossing the ocean to get there. He rounded out his list with Hawaii, Australia, and New Zealand. Oh yeah, and parts of Asia as well. Then it was his turn again. What was something he knew that he had never done but Katrina had? He was momentarily stumped, thinking about his abundant, fast paced lifestyle. Then he had it. “I have never set foot inside a public school.” He could trump her for hours with this line of thinking.

  “L
ucky you,” she said. She sounded envious. “Then you’ve never had school lunch. Never had detention. Never bombed a pop quiz. Never had to take a communal shower after gym class.”

  Great. So much for trumping her for hours. “Are you supposed to do that? Take all my ‘nevers’ away from me?”

  She looked like just realized she had eaten an entire pie by herself and not saved any for the other guests. “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about all the … agony that you’ve saved yourself. I got a little consumed.” She looked out at the ocean for a second, and when her eyes returned to his face, he could see wrinkles form in between her eyebrows. “I mean, not that high school is all that bad. It’s not like I hate it or anything. People aren’t mean to me … that’s not the problem.”

  He laughed before she could say anything else. “You’re worried that I might think you are a nerd if you hate high school.”

  She shook her head. “No. I wasn’t …”

  “Yeah, you were,” he challenged. But he was smiling. Trying to be playful. “I know you’re not a nerd, Katrina. Do you think I’d be hanging with you if you were a nerd?” Really. Come one. He didn’t run a charity service.

  “I just worried, cause ya know—all the popular kids live for high school. The nerds hate it: it’s torture for them. And since I was saying awful things about it ….”

  “No, I understood what you meant. High schools are demeaning. Unsophisticated. Rudimentary. Which is why I’ve never attended.”

  She looked like she had just had an ah-ha moment. She probably felt dumb. Ben decided he should do a Katrina. Tease her just a little. “I mean, it’s not like I’m uneducated or anything. I’ve been tutored. Got my diploma two years ago. I even have forty college credits under my belt.”

  She smiled at him. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

  “No. I have never made fun of Katrina Hayes,” he said. Was it his turn? Would that one count?

  “Oh, good one she said.” Evidently it counted. “I have. Made fun of myself. Plenty. How ‘bout you?”

  He thought that maybe she regretted asking that, given the sallow look on her face. But he answered anyhow. “No, not really. I take myself pretty seriously.”

  “Kay, my turn. I have never performed in concert.”

  “Yeah you have,” he said.

  “Ah, no. I don’t sing.”

  “But you’ve danced. It’s kinda the same. Performing on stage, regardless of the genre.”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s not. I’ve danced with other people. Never by myself. And never for an audience over a thousand. That doesn’t even compare.”

  “But that feeling—the euphoria you feel when the entire audience cheers for you—is the same. No matter the size of the crowd.”

  “Really?” She appeared contemplative. “No. I respectfully disagree. A crowd of a thousand is much quieter than a crowd of … say ten thousand. It can’t be the same feeling.”

  “Hmm,” he tried to think back to his earlier days, when the crowds were smaller. But he was younger. And all that was new. He had thought the cheers were pretty awesome back then. And it was just as awesome now. “Maybe,” he finally answered. “There’s a lot of variables on that one. But. I think I won that round. Because you have performed on stage. So it’s my turn.”

  “But you can’t change my statement. That doesn’t count.”

  “It does. Your down by two.”

  “Two?”

  “Yep.” No discussion. He was winning. He knew how to count. “I have never shopped at Wal-Mart.”

  “What? Come on! You’ve had to step inside a Wal-Mart, at least once in your life.”

  “Nope. Never.”

  “Man,” she said, her voice subdued. “Think of all the bargains you’ve missed.” She was quiet for a second, then she said, “I have never been interviewed on TV. Or radio. Or for a magazine. Or a newspaper.”

  “Good one. You don’t really want me to respond to each of those do you?” They’d be here all day.

  “No,” she said. “We’d be here all day.”

  He laughed. “You just read my mind. That was kind of surreal … do you think you could do it again?” He stopped at the edge of the pier and leaned against the railing. He looked all serious like. And open, so she could read into his mind.

  She stood facing him: squinting at him more and more until her eyes were just little slits. “You’re brain is completely empty,” she finally said. “A black abyss. Nothing to read in there.”

  “Nice,” he said as he stood upright. No one ever ripped on him like that. It was unsettling. But maybe he emitted rays of disgust, because she quickly touched him on the arm.

  “Kidding,” she said. “I’d get a head ache if I tried to read your mind.”

  More insults? Gutsy.

  “Because you’re so deep,” she amended. “So … complex. You’re like a … an extraterrestrial or something.”

  “What?” Calling him an alien? Not getting any better.

  “Ya know: uber intelligent. More sophistication than the typical man. And even … supernal powers and all.”

  “Supernal powers?”

  “Your talent: above the ordinary. By far. Even your … looks,” she almost gulped before she continued, “… could be considered supernal.”

  Awesome. “So to be called an extraterrestrial is a good thing?”

  “Yes. Very. And I can’t read alien minds. Sorry.”

  Ok, back to the game. He started walking again. “Whose turn is it?” he asked. They’d gotten distracted.

  “Yours: and I’m up by two.”

  “What? How could you be up by two?”

  “Because I have never been interviewed by four different forms of media.”

  “You can’t count all of those.”

  He saw her shoulders collapse with a sigh. “I know. I just thought I’d try. I don’t want to spend my money on that necklace. I have to pay for my costumes for spring recital. And if I have to buy that necklace, I won’t have any money left for …” the sigh again, “chocolate.”

  “You’re not going to make me feel sorry for you. I’m still up by two. So …” he had to think about this one. He needed something good. What he came up with was, “I have never kissed a boy.”

  She laughed at first. Then she blushed. “Do I really have to answer to that?”

  “Yeepp.” Ben did his John Wayne impression. He wasn’t going to let her wiggle her way past this one.

  “You don’t really want to know that … do you?”

  “Yeah. I totally do. Spill it.”

  She scowled at him. He thought he even heard a Marge Simpson type growl come from her throat. But there were waves crashing and seagulls screeching, so it was hard to say. “Kay. But it’s not that juicy or anything. Just six guys.”

  “And they are …?”

  Big sigh. “Not that this will mean anything to you. Just guys from school.”

  He had to urge her to continue. “One. Colton. We dated for a few months, about a year ago. Two. Bridger. We kissed at a party one night. But nothing ever came of it. Three. Leo. He kissed me after a football game. He was really excited because they had just won after four straight schmears. So I don’t know if you would count that, because I was kinda surprised and I didn’t really kiss him back much. I just kinda went smooshy faced.”

  “But you count it.”

  “Yeah. Anything to boost my numbers. I’m pretty pathetic.”

  “Four?” he asked.

  “Roger. We dated for an entire semester freshman year. But I broke up with him after we kissed for the first time. ‘Cause it was gross. Really gross. It was like kissing a drooling St. Bernard.”

  “Definite relationship killer,” Ben agreed. “Five?”

  “Five was … Skylar.” She sighed again. “He dumped me after we kissed. Made me wonder if I drooled like a St. Bernard.”

  Ben laughed, but realized he probably shouldn’t have. She seemed sensitive about this one. �
�You don’t … drool. I would know.”

  Her cheeks flared mildly. “Yeah. I hope you’re right. So,” she said, turning her body to face him, “my turn. I have never …”

  “Wait. You didn’t tell me six.”

  “I didn’t? Yeah I did. I counted them.” She held up six fingers.

  “Uh-uh. Five.” He held up one hand. “I counted too.”

  Her lips were tight. Her eyebrows made that crease again.

  “I’d really … I’d rather not say. It’s embarrassing. And stupid. And it doesn’t really count.”

  “But again … you counted it. So it must mean something.”

  She looked out to the ocean, over his shoulder and avoided his eyes. “Nope,” she said with a grin. She looked at him resolutely. “I plead the fifth. Or the sixth in this case. My lips are sealed.”

  And they were. She had them tightly pressed. He didn’t think he could get her to open them even if he offered her chocolate. But … he could get a reaction. “Okay. Follow-up statement. I have never kissed my stepbrother.”

  Bingo. Her mouth popped wide open. She gasped. Her eyebrows went up. Then the blink. The composure. “Me neither,” she said with a slight smile.

  “Really?” She was lying, he knew it.

  “Really. That’s disgusting. Incest. I would never.”

  “No, not would never. Have never.”

  “Well, I have never kissed my stepbrother.”

  He knew he was giving her the once-over. He almost believed her. But he had to ask again. “Honestly? You have never kissed Jackson?”

  She stopped walking. Her face grew long, pale even. “Kay, it’s totally not what you think. It’s nothing gross or perverted. We were young, really young, and … he’s really not …”

  Ben stopped her by holding up his hand. He really didn’t want to know the details, because it could be weird. He just wanted to win the game. “It’s understandable. He’s not even technically your stepbrother anymore. He’s an ex-stepbrother. So it’s not creepy or anything.” Ben smiled largely. “But it is funny. Hysterical, actually. Do your parent’s know? Did you talk about it over family dinner?”

  She punched his arm. “It’s not funny. It’s embarrassing. And it’s top secret. Don’t ever mention that you know. It’s … buried. Ancient history. Never to be brought to light again. Got it?”