She winked at me. “Of course I did. And, that’s not all.”
I salivated, anticipating how she might finish that sentence.
“I also made you homemade chile verde chicken tacos, just the way you like them, and refried black beans, rice, and, of course, extra guacamole.”
Nick banged on his chest like a ravenous animal. “Time to fiesta!”
“Not yet, Nick,” Mr. Turner chided. “Give the girl some time to walk through the door.”
“But . . . I’m hungry.”
Reilly and I rolled our eyes. “You’re always hungry,” he muttered. “So, sweet sixteen, huh?” Reilly nodded, contemplating something. “Hmm.”
Sam plopped a birthday hat on my head, careful with the elastic around my chin.
“That wasn’t really a thing for us guys when we turned sixteen,” he mused. “What’s that feel like, exactly?”
I looked around at the smiling faces. I had family enough present and felt plenty special.
“It’s just extra fun,” I said with a shoulder shrug. “Sweet sixteen just sounds more interesting, doesn’t it? Plus, I get to drive soon.” I waggled my eyebrows at him.
“God help us,” Nick moaned, and Sam punched him in the shoulder for me.
“It is special,” Sam chimed in. “Wait until you see what Nick actually got you.” She laughed to herself. “Then you’ll feel really special.”
“Speaking of gifts.” Nick eyed my colorful pile on the table excitedly. “You should open yours now.”
“Yeah, open them now,” Sam reprised, surprising me.
I glanced at Mrs. Turner. “I dunno, those chicken tacos sound amazing right now.” My stomach rumbled on cue. But even if that was true, Sam was making the idea of presents before dinner very appealing with her Vanna White motions over my heap of gifts.
“It’s your birthday, you don’t have to do things in a particular order,” Mrs. Turner said, and handed me a bright pink margarita, virgin of course.
“Yum. Thank you.” My eyes widened as I took a sip of sweet raspberry. “Perfecto.” I sighed and licked my lips. Glancing around at everyone’s expectant faces, I gave in. “All right then. I’m not one to let the crowd down.”
Nick tossed the throw pillows off the couch haphazardly, earning a warning from his mother, and patted the cushion in the center. “Your throne, mi’ lady.”
“Why, thank you, strapping peasant boy.”
My remark earned me a narrow-eyed “hey” before he finally took a seat beside me. “Open mine first since it’s clearly the best,” he said.
“How old are you again, Nick?” Sam asked.
“It’s difficult to tell sometimes, isn’t it?” Mrs. Turner grumbled, and she wrapped her arm around him.
I peeked inside the Nordstrom bag, barely registering the knock at the door. Something was wrapped in bright pink tissue paper, and I assumed it was the bathing suit I saw when I was with Sam and the crew at the mall a couple weeks back. That was one thing Nick was the best at, shopping. He remembered everything when it came to I wants and I wishes.
I unwrapped it in all of its pink and black polka dotted glory, my eyes wide. “It’s exactly as I remember it,” I breathed. “It’s perfect. Thanks, Nick!” I wrapped my arms around him.
“You can thank my mom for actually picking it up. I felt weird buying a girl’s bikini on my own.”
“But it’s the thought—and the wrap job—that counts, of course.”
“Obviously.” Nick chuckled.
“Just don’t let my dad see it. He’ll freak.”
“Don’t let your dad see what?” His voice emanated from the entryway. When I saw him standing there in his work clothes, I was a little confused, but happy that he’d made it to the dinner all the same. Dropping the bikini back in the bag, I got up and headed over to him, standing in the entry.
“You came,” I said, more relieved than I’d thought I’d be. Standing on tiptoes, I wrapped my arms around him. “I’m glad . . .” The moment I saw what was outside the door, my thoughts drifted, my heart raced with hope, and my mouth hung open in disbelief and awe.
A new, yellow Jeep sat out at the curb. “What the hell is that?” I gasped.
My dad chuckled and reprimanded me for bad language, but I barely heard him. I was out the door, standing in the middle of the grass, staring out at a Jeep I was ninety-five percent sure was mine.
“You got me the Jeep?” I breathed. I was a spun ball of unraveling glee and I didn’t know what to do with myself. “I—I thought I had to buy my own car?” David had to buy his own . . .
I could feel my dad’s gaze as he stepped up beside me, but I couldn’t pull my attention away from the shiny car parked a few yards away.
“You assumed.”
I covered my mouth as the realization began to seep in. As I saw the past week—today—for what they were. My dad was busy sneaking around to buy me my very first, beautiful car.
“It’s so perfect!” I shrieked, barely able to contain myself and the tears filling my eyes. When I heard the jinglejangle of keys, I forced my gaze away long enough to see my car keys dangling from between my dad’s grease-stained fingers.
“Well?” He handed them to me. “Are you going to check it out, or what?”
Without hesitation, I took the keys and ran over to my car. Sam and the gang followed behind me, giving me space. None of them were surprised, like I was. “You guys,” I said, almost warningly as I shook my head. “I can’t believe you knew—I can’t believe Sam kept the secret.”
“Me either,” she admitted. “I see you more than any other person, and how I didn’t blow it is a miracle.”
With a giggle, I climbed inside. The scent of new car filled my nostrils and I stared at the dash. It was so different than my dad’s truck. It was smaller and newer, and I knew I could get the hang of it easily enough, even if I did have butterflies, imagining myself driving it on my own.
Nick and Reilly opened up the back doors, chatting amongst themselves the way guys do when they talk about cars. Sam got comfortable in the passenger seat, clearly staking her claim, which was fine with me, and Mr. and Mrs. Turner watched us with smiling faces from the lawn. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought Mrs. Turner had tears in her eyes.
My dad stepped into the open driver’s side doorway. “What do you think?”
“What do I think? I think this is awesome. I can’t believe you did this. I can’t believe I didn’t know. I know everything you do, all the time.”
“Apparently not,” Sam said, snooping in the glove box.
“So, let me get this straight.” My hands dropped from the steering wheel, and I rested my head back, looking at my dad. “You let me save my money all this time for the Datsun, and this whole time you’ve been planning to buy me this car?”
“Machaela, there was no way in hell I was going to let your first car be something I’m going to have to work on all the time—something that has more potential to breakdown and leave you stuck on the side of the road. Plus . . . you deserve this, kid.” The sentiment in his voice was unexpected and brought more tears to my eyes. Different tears this time, though. Not just of excitement and surprise, but of love and gratitude. “You’re a good girl and you help me more than you know. So, I wanted to do something nice for you for your birthday.”
Wrapping my arms around him again, I squeezed my dad as tightly as I could manage. He grunted and groaned, but I didn’t care. “Thank you, Dad.” I whispered, my mind still reeling with disbelief.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Just, don’t do anything crazy. I don’t need another reason to worry about you.”
“Me? Something crazy?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s an outlandish thought, I know.”
I squeezed him one last time, then let him go. “It’s the best birthday present ever.”
“What?” Nick said, with mock surprise and offense. “But, what about the bathing suit?”
Everyone start
ed laughing.
WINTER
Three
The Winter Formal
Sam
Seven Years Ago
“Sam, I thought we had this conversation—I like the teal dress on you.”
“I’d like to leave something to the imagination, if you don’t mind,” I grumbled, even though I appreciated Mac letting me borrow one of her dresses for the Winter Formal. The peach dress looked simple and pretty on the hanger, and would be nearly floor length on me.
“Give me a break,” she groused and took the peach fabric from me. “I wore that for my middle school graduation. We’re sophomores now. You’re not wearing it. I didn’t even know I still had it.” Mac tossed the balled-up dress into the closet and handed me the teal one on the hanger. “This isn’t revealing, Sam, it’s pretty. Trust me, there’s a difference. All of these dresses have been approved by my dad, so they are more than appropriate.”
With a snort of laughter, I shook my head and eyed the sparkly teal fabric again. In matters like these, I trusted Mac, even if it was a little girlie for my taste and definitely out of my comfort zone.
“All right, if your dad approves, then I guess it’s fine.”
Mac groaned, all too familiar with my reservations for large crowds and tight clothing. Leaning closer to her vanity mirror, she applied the last of her eye makeup. “You’re the only girl in the world our age that would ever utter those words together, Sam. Sometimes, it worries me.”
Peeling off my sweat pants, I slinked into the polyester and appreciated the weight of it against my skin. Dress zipped and form fitting in all the right places, I admired it in a whole new way. The sleeveless bodice; the flared skirt . . . Mac was right, it was really pretty and flattering with my blonde, clumsily curled hair.
“I told you,” she said with a smirk. “You look hot.”
“Thanks.” Running my hands down the bodice, I imagined what Harlon might say when he saw me at the dance. If Mac’s reaction was any indication, he wouldn’t be embarrassed to call me his date. The fact that I might actually have a little fun tonight—with a boy—made my stomach flutter.
After appraising her work in the vanity mirror, Mac nodded with appreciation then shimmied into her red dress. “You brought your shoes, right? You definitely won’t fit those pixie feet into my heels.”
Crouching down precariously, so not to tear, crease, or wrinkle my dress, I pulled out the first pair of fancy flats I’d ever purchased. “Yep.” I held them up proudly for Mac to see. Flat. Gray with a little sparkle. “I got neutral, like you said, so I can wear them again—one day.”
“Good job, Sam. They’re perfect.” Mac winked and smoothed out her fitted, sequined party dress. “Okay, hair—check. Makeup—check. Deodorant—” She sniffed her armpit, causing me to do the same, suddenly self-conscious. “Check,” we both said in unison.
Mac reached for her purple bottle of perfume. She hadn’t gone a day without it since our first day of high school, freshman year. That was when her dad finally let her wear her mom’s perfume, and Mac had worn it religiously ever since. It was lilac, a little bold and subtly sweet—the essence of Mac.
So, when she offered me some, I couldn’t help a gracious smile. “Thanks, I’d love some.”
After putting a little spritz on my neck and in my hair, Mac did the same and set it back in its designated spot on her dresser. “Okay, time to take a final look,” she mused, staring at her attire. With a satisfactory nod, she examined me in the mirror next. “Damn, we look good.” Her lips parted into a broad smile. “I’m starting to think that dress looks better on you than it does on me.”
“You’re going to be late!” Mr. Carmichael called from downstairs in the living room.
“Oh!” Mac hurried to her closet and pulled out a soft gray shawl and handed it to me. Then, she pulled out a silky black one for herself. “Now we’re ready.”
Grabbing our clutches from her bed, complete with lip gloss, hair pins in case we got too hot on the dance floor, Band-Aids for our feet, our school IDs, and Mac’s keys and driver’s license, we headed for her bedroom door.
She flashed me a toothy grin, punctuated by her signature let’s-get-into-trouble wink. “Time to make some more memories, Sam.”
* * *
When we arrived at the clock tower downtown, parking was a nightmare, or maybe that was just because Mac was driving her Jeep like it was a race car and traffic laws didn’t apply to her. Once we finally found a spot in the parking garage and hoofed it for a block, we made it inside with our makeup and hair still intact, though I couldn’t say as much for my feet.
Sucking it up, the way Mac taught me to, I told myself that sore feet would be worth a night of fun and memories at my first dance, even if I was super nervous. Harlon was cute, if a little nerdy, but I liked nerdy. I was nerdy in my own way, and I was embarking on a night out, feeling like all the other girls in school for once in my life, thanks to Mac.
“Hey!” Kevin, Mac’s date and Harlon’s best friend, called from the photo-op in the hallway where he posed playfully with a group of his friends.
Mac waved to him and turned to me. “Okay, so you’re good, right? Harlon’s here somewhere. You’re going to have fun. Tonight can be epic, if you let it be.”
I nodded, though unsure I really processed her pep talk. Anxious was putting it mildly. Overstimulated too, by the mass of students, the loud music, and the flashing lights inside the room. And, I was looking for a specific, familiar face that I didn’t see. Harlon’s reaction would be everything. If his eyes lit up the way Kevin’s did, I was certain I’d be able to breathe, just a little bit better.
“Hey,” Kevin said again and sauntered over to us in his slacks and button up shirt. He looked at Mac appraisingly, then glanced at me and his face fell. “Hey, Sam.”
“Hi, Kevin.” My stomach dropped a little as I took in the expression on his face. Uncertain? Disgusted? Scared?
Confused, I peered down at my dress, making sure everything was still in place and I didn’t tear a hole in it during our chaotic rush to get here.
“Why do you look constipated?” Mac asked him. “Why are you looking at Sam like that?”
His eyes skirted to Mac’s then back to me.
“What?” I bit out.
“So, Harlon . . .”
“Harlon what?” Mac said, impatient. “Is he here yet?”
Kevin nodded. “Oh, he’s here, but—”
“What is it?” she snapped and separated herself from him, stepping closer to me.
“He’s dancing with Kaitlin.”
“What!” Mac shouted, and Kevin’s eyes widened. “He’s here with his ex and you didn’t warn us?” She hit him in his shoulder with her clutch. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat. My first dance. My first real date. The first time in my life that I was stood up.
The first time I thought I might be sick in public.
“It’s not my fault he decided to get back with her. I’m his friend, not his keeper.”
“Yeah, but a warning would’ve been nice, asshole,” Mac growled.
I tuned the rest out and headed for the door. I needed air. I wanted to go home. No—I needed to go home. The last thing I wanted to do was be at a stupid dance I didn’t even want to attend in the first place, especially not when I had to watch the guy who stood me up dancing with his ex-now-new-girlfriend. Probably laughing at me.
“Sam!” Mac reached for my hand. When I looked back at her, Kevin was stalking away. “I know it sucks, but I really think we should stay.”
“What? No way. This is embarrassing enough. I’m not like you, Mac. I can’t give him the evil eye all night and pretend to enjoy myself. I didn’t want to come to this stupid thing to begin with.”
“Please,” she begged. “And I’m not asking for myself—well, not entirely,” she added.
“I can call Papa, you don’t have to leave. You can stay and have f
un with Kevin.”
“Screw Kevin,” Mac said easily. “I already told him to get lost. He’s an idiot if he thinks I’m going to hang out with him tonight after pulling that crap.”
Surprised, I wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulder. “Then why do you want to stay?”
“Because, tonight is our first dance together. We spent all this time getting ready . . .” She peered around at the streamers and balloons. “It can still be fun.”
“No, Mac.”
“Why not? Because of Harlon? Dude, he’s a stupid sophomore guy whose name you won’t even remember in a few months. You didn’t even like him that much anyway. Don’t let him ruin our night. We can still go in there and have fun and dance with everyone else, just us.”
I peered inside, at my schoolmates—some of them freshmen, some of them upperclassmen—all jumping and bobbing their heads to the dance music emanating from the speakers.
“I promise, whenever there’s a slow song,” Mac said, anticipating me, “we’ll take a break, get something to drink and come out here and take inappropriately awesome photos in the booth, okay?”
Mac’s excitement was like a gravitational pull. She wanted to stay, and I didn’t have the heart to leave her alone, even if I was certain she could find other friends to hang out with. This was important to her, and to me, if I was honest. I didn’t want my first dance experience to be tainted by one loser who was an honor roll student with bad hair and a lazy eye.
“All right,” I drawled, knowing Mac was right. “Let me use the restroom and then we can brave the masses.”
With an excited squeak, Mac jumped up and down, then realized she was messing up her hair and smoothed it back down. “Yay!”
* * *
After a lot of flailing, twirling, and laughing to upbeat music, a slow song came through the speakers. As promised, Mac and I maneuvered out of the crowd to take a breather. With heaving breaths, we headed for the drink table.
Saratoga Falls: The Complete Love Story Series Page 97