by Trish Doller
The bushes outside are unmoving—as if, like me, my mother would hide in someone’s landscaping—and of course she’s not going to be lounging on Greg’s porch steps. Why would she stay long enough to smoke a cigarette, but not long enough to wait for me? I whirl around, my eyes narrowed as I look closer for something. Anything. A note, maybe. Or, a message that only I’ll understand. Except the message she’s left makes my heart slide into my toes. She didn’t come to see me.
The laptop Greg gave me is missing.
My stomach curls in on itself, and I wonder if this is how the Ruskins felt after we lived in their house. Violated. Unsafe. I’ll lock the trailer door tonight because I don’t want her sneaking in when I’m sleeping. My face burns with shame that I feel this way about my own mother, but also—how am I going to tell Greg? I don’t want him to know it was her, but I don’t want to lie about what happened to the computer. I hate that she’s put me in this position.
Chapter 12
“Does this come in green?”
Alex is back, and I watch through the open doors as he and Jeff load sponges into the back of Alex’s pickup truck. Today he’s bandanna-free, his bangs pulled back with an elastic the way a girl might wear her hair. Except there is absolutely nothing feminine about the way he looks, and I love how comfortable he seems in his skin.
It pains me to tear my gaze away from him to deal with the customer who has been nagging me with questions for the past fifteen minutes. I want to tell her that if the T-shirt she’s waving at me came in green, it would be there among the dozens of available styles. No, that purple dress doesn’t come in gold. No, we don’t have more necklace colors in back. No, you can’t have three sponges for ten dollars because the place down the street is selling them for that price. I shake my head—again. “I’m sorry.”
Theo comes into the store and flashes me the “you’re not trying hard enough” look I’ve been getting all week. He goes over to the woman and by the time he’s done schmoozing her, she comes to the register with a T-shirt that’s not green and a dress that’s not gold.
“Callie,” he says, when the customer is gone, “I know you’re new to all this, but you really need to work it a little more. Make the sales.”
“I’m sorry.” I’ve attempted to compliment the customers the way Kat does, but the words always trip over my tongue and taste insincere. And although I am Greek, what it means to be Greek is an alien concept, so I can’t use it to my advantage the way Theo and Alex do. “I’ll try harder.”
He sighs as if he doesn’t believe me. “Go ahead and take your lunch break now. I’ll cover you, and Kat should be here by the time you’re done.”
It feels as if I’m being punished.
My bench is empty, so I go there with my daily hummus and Coke. When Alex sees me, he says something to Jeff, hands him the keys to the truck, and they do one of those complicated guy handshakes. Jeff glances in my direction as he climbs into the cab and drives away. The whole exchange unsettles me somehow. Maybe because it feels as if I’ve answered some sort of silent booty call and now even Jeff knows what’s going to happen next. And maybe I’m embarrassed because I wouldn’t mind being something more than Alex’s booty call. Still, that doesn’t stop me from stepping aboard the boat and following Alex down into the cabin.
“Hi.” His arms come around me and he pulls me against him.
I thread my fingers through his curls as he lowers his face. His mouth is almost on mine when my own hoarse hello comes out. Just before he kisses me, he gives me that grin that makes my knees go rag-doll limp.
“I’ve been thinking about you all week.” Alex’s mouth is against my neck as his hand slides under my T-shirt. His skin tastes faintly of salt and sweat, and any hesitation I had about being nothing more than a booty call dissolves.
I’m pulling my shorts back on—and four minutes past the end of my break—when he asks me what time I get off work.
“Five.” I’m not worried about Theo, but I’m afraid that Kat has started her shift and she’ll be watching for me. That my T-shirt won’t hide the bite mark on my collarbone.
“Do you want to come over later?” His eyes follow my movements, as if I’ll disappear if he looks away. Ironic, considering he was the one who disappeared without a word. “I’ll get Chinese and maybe we could watch a movie or something.”
“I, um—” I pull my shirt over my head so I can escape his gaze for a second or two before I have to tell him the truth. I look at the floor when I say the words. “I kind of already have—plans.”
“Oh.” His eyebrows pull together, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that I’d be busy.
“You just left, so I thought”—the cabin grows smaller and I’m not sure how to end that sentence—“you could have called or something.”
“No, you’re right.” Alex looks away and I hate that. I could break my date with Connor. God, I want to break my date with Connor so much. But that wouldn’t be right. I don’t want to be that kind of girl. “I didn’t really think about it. So, it’s cool. Maybe another time.”
“Definitely. Absolutely. Yes.” Too many words are coming out of my mouth, but I hope that one of them might be the spark to reignite whatever it was I saw in his eyes before. I want him to suggest we do something tomorrow night instead, but he leaves me hanging.
“Okay, well, I have to go. I’m already late from break,” I say. “So, I guess I’ll see you later?”
“Sure.”
But as I let myself out of the cabin and walk to the store, I keep looking back. Not sure about anything at all.
Kat is helping customers when I come in. She smiles and waves at me in a way that makes me think she’s been too busy to worry about me. Which is good, because I’m too busy trying to figure out what just happened with Alex to make up an excuse.
“Oh my God, Callie, why didn’t you tell me Connor asked you out?” She comes over to me as I’m reorganizing the jewelry spinner. “I had to hear about it from Nick.”
“I guess I forgot.”
“How could you forget?” She bounces on the balls of her feet and her charm bracelet jingles. “This is so exciting! What are you going to wear?”
“Probably jeans and maybe a plaid shirt.”
“Good call.” Kat bobs her head as if my lack of planning is a plan. “Understated yet cute. Maybe with one of the lace-trimmed tank tops underneath and—ooh, that necklace with all the keys. And those brown leather sandals. You’ll look—um, you look as if you’re about to puke. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” I hang and rehang the same necklace twice, just so I don’t have to look at her excited face. “I’m not sure about this.”
“Why? Connor is the nicest guy I know.”
“It’s just—I’m not feeling it.”
“I used to think Nick was completely annoying. But one day during our freshman year, he sweet-talked the lunch lady into giving him an extra peanut-butter cookie and then gave it to me. It was such a dumb little thing, but”—she shrugs—“that did it for me. Give Connor a chance. He might surprise you.”
I work my lower lip between my teeth. I wish I could be honest with her about Alex, but she wouldn’t understand, especially when she wants this thing with Connor to happen. It’s in her face, in her voice. And I don’t want to fight with her anymore. “Yeah, okay.”
Theo lets us leave work a little early, and as we walk to Kat’s car I can’t help but sneak a glance at the boat. Alex stands on deck, stringing sponges the way he did the first night I saw him, and I have to quell the urge to tell him I want to eat Chinese food and watch movies with him. Disappointment thumps with every heartbeat when he doesn’t even look up.
It feels like an event when the whole family walks Connor and me to the front door and waves from the porch as we get in the car. Everyone’s expectations seem to be riding on my shoulders, and I feel like I’m going to get this wrong.
“You, um—you look nice,” Connor says, pulling away from
the curb. “I like your hair.”
Kat wove the front into two small French braids and ribboned them together in the back. It’s pretty.
“Thanks.” He’s wearing a distressed polo-style shirt and faded jeans, and his cologne is sporty and slightly strong, as if he just put it on. “So do you,” I say.
He fiddles with the radio as he drives, scanning up and down the frequencies until he finds the right song—something hard rock I don’t recognize—and glances at me to make sure his choice is okay. I smile, but I’ve got nothing to say. Playing checkers in Greg’s backyard was easy because we didn’t have to talk, but now … this is awful.
“I, um—” I turn down the volume on the radio. “I don’t really know how to say this, but—”
“You don’t really want to go out with me, do you?” His voice is quiet and I can hear the disappointment running through it.
I slide my finger along the frayed spot on my jeans. “How did you know?”
“I could kind of tell.” He brakes to a stop at a red light. “I mean, the first time I asked, you said you’d think about it. That should have been a bigger hint. I guess—I don’t understand why you said yes if you’re not interested.”
“Kat was so excited and I’ve never been on a real date before, and I thought you’d be …” I search for a flattering word. Comfortable. Nice. Those words suck. “… safe.”
Why didn’t I say “fun”? What guy wants to be told he’s safe? As proof, Connor’s nose crinkles as if I’ve used a profane word. Then he sighs and the sound punches me in the stomach. I would have avoided all of this if I had just said no.
“Not gonna lie.” He looks up through the windshield at the traffic light, as if he can’t wait for it to change so he can drive away from this moment. “I feel like an idiot because, well … for once it seemed as if I had a chance with a girl who is completely out of my league.”
“I’m not.”
Connor shrugs. The light changes and he makes a left.
“We can—”
“Yeah, I know. We can hang out.” He sounds tired and slightly sarcastic. I guess I can’t blame him for that. “Be friends.”
“I’m sorry.”
He parks in front of the bookstore. Just up the street I can see the lighted marquee of the movie house hanging out over the sidewalk. “Do you still want to go to the movie?” he asks.
“Not really, no.”
“Me neither,” he says. “Do you want me to take you home?”
I shake my head. “I don’t really want to have to explain this to Kat yet.”
Connor nods. “She already started planning a double date to homecoming, so—yeah, that’s not going to be fun.”
I open the passenger side door. “I’m really sorry.”
“We’re cool.” He offers me a smile that has sadness at the corners and his fist for a bump. I touch my fist against his, then get out of the car. “See you later, Callie.”
He drives away and I consider going into the bookstore and curling up on that comfy couch until my imaginary date is over. But as I reach for the door handle, the hipster girl with the black glasses turns the closed sign toward me and points at her watch.
Ten minutes later, I’m at the sponge docks.
On my way to Alex’s boat, I pass a small restaurant with a handful of tables arranged on the sidewalk. At one of the tables, a blond girl with freckled cheeks picks at the label of her beer bottle as she flashes a bright smile at the guy across from her. At Alex.
I lower my head so my hair will cover my face, but the damn braids hold most of it back. I walk fast, hoping they won’t notice me, but the flat soles of my sandals slap on the pavement as I pass.
“Callie.” I hear Alex call after me. “Hey, Callie. Wait.”
So. Stupid. So. Stupid. So. Stupid. My footfalls call me out. So stupid. So stupid for going out with Connor. So stupid for coming here for Alex. For thinking I could fit in here. For thinking I could be someone else. I could go faster without these shoes, but I don’t want to waste time stopping to take them off. Even though I have nowhere to go, I want to flee my embarrassment as quickly as possible.
He catches up with me on Athens Street, his hand wrapping around my upper arm. “Wait.”
“Let go of me.” I look down at his fingers. “Now.”
He releases my arm, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, and his voice drops low. Soft. Melting. “Please.”
So stupid.
“I have this terrible habit of picking the wrong guys. Ones who don’t give a shit about me.” My shoulders sag as I lean against the brick of the building behind me. “I broke my date for you.”
“I gave you the combination to my boat.”
“Yeah, but then you just left and I thought you didn’t want—”
“I gave you the combination to my boat,” he repeats, and the weight of the words hit me.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“You really shouldn’t give the combination to your boat to strange girls.”
The corner of his mouth tilts up and I get this intense longing to kiss him right there on that little crease. He reaches out and touches my neck, his fingertips curling around the back and his thumb resting against my wild pulse. He takes a step closer. “Did I give it to the wrong girl?”
I lick my lower lip and shake my head. “No.”
His other hand comes up on the other side of my neck and his mouth brushes feather-soft against mine. Fleeting and—oh, how I want more, more, more. “Let’s go to the boat.”
“What about your friend?”
“That’s all she is, Callie. We were just having a beer while she was waiting for her boyfriend to meet her for dinner.” His fingers slide down my arm until they reach my hand and he pulls me gently toward the dock. His palm is rough against mine, but I don’t mind. “C’mon. You still want Chinese?”
“Sure,” I say, leaving out the part where I already ate dinner.
On the boat, Alex rummages through a pile of takeaway menus until he finds the grease-stained yellow flyer from the Great Wall restaurant. He hands it to me. “What’ll you have?”
I sit down, handing him the menu without looking at it. “Maybe just an egg roll?”
“That it?” He digs his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans. “You sure?”
“This time.”
Alex grins as he makes the call, ordering an egg roll for me and moo shu chicken—my favorite—for himself. Mom and I never order anything but kung pao chicken because that’s what she likes.
“So where’d you go just now?” Alex cracks open the cap on a bottle of beer and offers it to me. I shake my head as I tuck my knees up against my chest. He drops down beside me and props his bare feet on a milk crate.
I rest my cheek on my knee. “Thinking about kung pao chicken.”
“You like it?”
I’ve never told Mom how much I hate it. “Not even a little.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, catching one of my curls between his fingers. “For next time.”
I want to reach out and touch him, too, but I don’t. I’m not sure why. “Will there be a next time?”
He looks away and takes a sip of beer, and I wonder if he’s swallowing the words he was going to say. But then he looks back at me with those green-side-of-hazel eyes and says them. “As many as you want.”
I can feel the heat blossom in my cheeks and he laughs in a not-mean way. I look past him, out the doorway to the deck where the dark garlands of sponges hang. “So I think you said something about watching a movie?”
“That was before you turned me down,” he says. “I mean, I have a couple of things we can watch, but they’re kind of old.”
“That’s okay. What do you have?”
He opens a sliding hatch behind our heads and takes out a short stack of DVD cases. I shuffle through them. “Princess Bride, High Fidelity, Road House, Coyote Ugly, and—” I side-eye him. “Kinky Kittens 6?
”
“We can skip that one.” Alex snatches the case and sends it spiraling out through the cabin doorway. It lands with a thump on the deck. “Not much plot.”
“Well, yeah. After Kinky Kittens one through five, what more is left to be said, really?”
He laughs. “Exactly.”
I fan the remaining DVDs like a hand of cards. “Which is your favorite?”
Alex pulls High Fidelity. “Have you seen it?”
“No.”
“You have to.” He pulls a small combination TV/ DVD player out from a storage compartment beneath his bed and plugs it into the orange extension cord that runs out to an outlet on the dock. As the disk is synching up, he props a couple of bed pillows against the bulkhead and settles against them. He pokes my thigh with his toe. “Come here.”
I shift backward between his legs until my back is against the wall of his chest. The brush of his stubbled cheek against my temple makes me shiver and he wraps his arms around me. His hand slides beneath the collar of my shirt, his fingers resting on my collarbone. It strikes me as both an unusual and perfect place for a hand to be.
“All good?” he asks.
I feel as if I’m inhabiting some other girl’s body, as if something this excellent could not actually be happening to me and that at any moment the universe is going to clue me in to the joke. “All good.”
He reaches overhead and switches off the light.
We stay in this position until the delivery driver from the Great Wall arrives. Alex unwraps himself from me and pauses the DVD before going out on deck to pay for the order. He returns with a stack of takeaway containers. “There are a couple of TV trays in the storage locker opposite the head.” He tilts his chin in the direction of the locker.
I unfold the trays in the middle of the cabin and he spreads out the food. I take my wax paper bag of egg roll and sit down again, as Alex opens the foam carton of moo shu chicken and the greasy fried scent takes me back to the hallway of our last apartment and those little Dora the Explorer shoes outside our neighbors’ door. We’d still be living there if Mom hadn’t gotten the stupid itch to leave. She wouldn’t have been arrested. I wouldn’t be here and she wouldn’t have stolen my computer.