by Gina Ciocca
I froze. “You’re going to Maddie’s party?”
“She invited me this afternoon. Why, you’re not?”
I stared at the medal, tracing the etching on the face with my finger. “Maddie and I . . . aren’t as close as we used to be.”
David didn’t push when I sat quietly for a few seconds, absently dropping the medal into its box and fishing it back out again.
“Then I won’t go either,” David said.
I looked up at him. “No, you should go if you want to. They like you better than me, anyway.”
A slow smile stretched across his face. “Well, I like you better. So I’m not going.”
His grin must’ve been contagious, because I felt it reflected on my own face. “Don’t think this means I’ll talk to Amy for you.”
“Forget I said anything about Amy. I take it back. But”—he looked down and picked at something on his comforter—“it’s not like you’re interested, right?”
“David!”
He looked at me long enough to make me a little nervous. Then his lips quirked up again. “Kidding, Kelse. Kidding.”
“Good. So how about a new hat to go with your Yankees jersey?”
His face turned serious. “No gifts, Kelse. Promise me.”
I let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Fine. But only if you promise you won’t get me anything for my birthday either.”
“Deal. I’ll give you the gift of my friendship,” he teased.
That was good enough for me. Because even though there’s no way to say it without sounding horrifically cheesy, having him in my life was gift enough.
Seven
Rhode Island
Senior Year
“Seriously, how have you never mentioned this guy before?”
It was the first Friday night of the school year, and Candy sat perched on the edge of my bed, holding my post-perfect-game photo of David, which I’d dug out of my closet after my freaky dream the other night.
“There wasn’t much to say.” More like no easy way to say it. “But I must’ve mentioned him once or twice.”
Hadn’t I?
She tapped the picture against the palm of her hand and pursed her lips. “I definitely know nothing of Hot David from Connecticut. So what aren’t you telling me, and why does Smurfy all but piss himself every time this kid comes around?”
The sound of a car pulling into my driveway distracted Candy, and she scurried across my bed on her knees to peer out the window. “Speak of shit heads and they appear,” she said. “Come on. Let’s go before they try to come inside and I have to watch Ryan molest you.” She stretched across the bed and set the photo down on my dresser. Then she pointed at me. “And don’t think this conversation is over.”
I popped a mint in my mouth as we walked out to the car to meet Matt and Ryan. I still didn’t know how Violet managed to put a party together on less than a week’s notice, but her party was exactly where we were headed. She’d been touting it as a “last pool party of the summer,” and used words like “epic” and “fab” every time she talked about it. She’d also been all up in David’s business every time I’d seen her since Mr. Ingles’s class—like, walking so close you would’ve thought they’d been surgically fused together.
I did not want to go to this party.
My interactions with David had been limited to polite hellos and what’s ups since then, despite the fact that Violet had invited him to sit at our lunch table. Stressing me out even more was the fact that our parents were on a full-fledged mission to get together one weekend. Luckily, my dad’s weekend trips to promote the book he finally got published made it impossible. For the moment.
Candy bounced down the steps of the front porch as I locked up the house, and Matt stepped out of the car and catcalled loudly. “Lookin’ good there, Candle. When am I finally gonna get a piece of that?”
She stopped in front of him and adjusted her black tube top over her ample chest. “Eat your heart out, Crowley. I’m saving myself.”
“For who?”
“For someone who’s not you.”
Matt grabbed her and pulled her into a bear hug, purposely mussing her hair as she squealed and tried to squirm away. “You’re full of shit. You know I haunt your dreams, Waxman. Now say it!”
Normally I would have found their antics hilarious, but tonight nothing seemed amusing. “Knock it off, you two,” I said as I approached the car. “Let’s get this over with.”
Matt and Candy climbed into the backseat of Ryan’s Camaro, and I could almost feel the look they exchanged at my comment. Or, rather, Matt’s look of What’s up her ass? and Candy’s responding shrug.
I smacked a kiss on Ryan’s lips as the car door slammed behind me.
“Hey. What’s that all about? You don’t want to go?”
“Not in a party mood, I guess.”
“Is it because that kid’s gonna be there? Has he been bothering you?” It was about the hundredth time that week Ryan had asked if David had been bothering me. Like he was dying for me to say yes, and to finally have a real reason to kick his ass.
“No, Ry. He didn’t bother me today, or the day before, or the day before that. Like I keep telling you.”
“Just making sure.” He squeezed my knee and put the car in reverse, then hit the brake when he looked up at my darkened house. “Wait. It’s Friday night. Where is everybody?”
“My dad’s doing signings and stuff in New York this weekend, so Mom went with him. Miranda’s sleeping at a friend’s house.”
His hand crept over to my thigh and he gave me a sly grin. “Then maybe we should have our own party here.”
Exactly why I hadn’t told him. Wasn’t in the mood for that kind of party either.
A cacophony of gagging sounds rose from the backseat, followed by Candy saying, “Sorry, Romeo, I’m staying with her tonight.”
I smiled over my shoulder at her, grateful to have her as my friend. Then Ryan slipped his hand beneath mine and lifted it to his lips, kissing it with a sweetness that made me melt, and I sighed. It felt so good to be reminded of the things and the people I was lucky enough to have in my life. Especially when everything else had started to feel like I’d been flipped to an alternate universe.
For all her talk of epicness, Violet’s party wasn’t much different from any other Clayton High party. She’d covered all the bases: tiki torches lining the wrought-iron fence around the inground pool, music turned up too loud, an illicit supply of beer and alcohol probably procured with a fake ID, and the obligatory beer pong table, topped with red plastic cups, set out on the manicured lawn.
“Hey, guys!” Violet chirped as we walked into the kitchen. “People will be here any minute! This is going to be great!” David stood next to her, muscles straining beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt from the bags of ice he held in his arms. Like she’d already put him to work.
I was so surprised to see him that I blurted, “Your car wasn’t outside.” I knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say, because Ryan would take it to mean I’d been looking for it. I hadn’t consciously looked for it, but David’s beat-up Chevy Cavalier was kind of hard to miss, especially around the expensive cars my friends drove.
“I’m driving my grandfather’s car now,” David said. “I got rid of that other one.”
Something inside me twinged. Did he get rid of it because of what happened the last time we were together?
“Boys,” Violet interrupted, addressing Matt and Ryan. I could have hugged her. “I need your muscles. Can you go down to the basement and bring some more drinks outside to the deck? David was just about to put ice in the coolers.”
“Better do that before my arms go numb,” David said, moving toward the door that led from the kitchen to the deck. His eyes darted to Ryan as he stepped past us, and I knew Ryan must have been sizing h
im up, which he seemed to do constantly. It was getting old.
The tension I may or may not have imagined cleared once the boys left the room, and Violet grabbed Candy and me by the arm. “Come on, girls. I’m making daiquiris in the blender, except the blender kind of scares me so I need one of you to hit the button.”
Candy shook her head. “Step aside, Vi. I got this.”
Violet beamed and turned to me. “What are you drinking tonight, Kelsey?”
“Soda. I just got my car back from the squirrel incident.”
“You’re no fun!” Violet pouted. “Didn’t Ryan drive?”
“Yes, but if I know Ryan, I’ll be driving home.”
Truth be told, it felt good to have an excuse not to drink. Cocktails with a thousand parts alcohol and two parts strawberry-flavored ice only served one purpose. I already felt like so many things were slipping out of my control. I didn’t need my presence of mind to be one of them.
Candy glanced over her shoulder as she poured way too much rum into the blender. “I think Sober Sally should be made to schlep ice with your boy toy, Vi.”
As if on cue, the door opened and David stuck his head inside. “Hey, Violet? Want to hand me another couple of bags?”
“I’ll get it, Vi,” I said. I felt like I needed to ask David something. I wasn’t sure what. But I knew I didn’t want an audience.
David took the ice from me when I got to the door, but I followed him outside anyway. As he set the bags on top of the ones he’d brought before, I found myself blurting another question at him. “So why did you get rid of your car?”
He didn’t look at me as he broke one of the bags open, but he made that sound again, the half sigh, half snort, that he’d made when I’d asked about his father. “Things change,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, look at you, Kelse.” He straightened and stared at me in disbelief, scratching his head. “Take a look at yourself if you want to know what I mean. You never used to wear dresses, or all that shit on your face. You hated parties and girls who walked around with fancy designer purses. And didn’t you tell me once that Tiffany jewelry was an experiment to see how many morons would overpay for a bracelet? ’Cause if I’m not mistaken . . .” He reached out and held up my wrist, his cold hand sending a jolt through me.
I yanked my arm back and wrapped my other hand around the silver toggle bracelet. “Ryan gave it to me,” I said defensively.
“I’m sure he did.” He ripped open a bag of ice almost violently and sent it clattering into the cooler. “I mean, I’d ask if you want to go throw some balls around, but I wouldn’t want you to break a nail or anything.”
My fingers tightened until I felt the links of my bracelet imprinting on my skin. “What. Is. Your. Problem.” My voice came out in a low growl, but it didn’t seem to faze David at all. He closed the lid to the cooler and sat on it, arms taut at his sides. His eyes were challenging, but something else flickered behind those long lashes, something that scared me even more. Like he’d looked inside me, and hated what he saw.
“Heard you got drunk and wrecked your car. Very responsible of you, Kelse.”
Heat flashed through my skin and I swallowed hard. “That’s not what happened!” I said before I could stop myself.
His expression didn’t change. “Then what did?”
I looked away, twisting furiously at my bracelet. He’d heard the lie I’d sold my friends. And worse, he believed it.
“What does any of this have to do with what I asked you?”
David’s eyes roved over me. Assessing. Judging. Then he held up his hands. “A year’s gone by. A lot of things are different. That’s all I was trying to say.”
I stepped toward him, my jaw clenched and my hand still clutching my wrist. I was sure I’d breathe fire if I picked up enough momentum. “What the hell are you even doing here?”
To my surprise, the condescension on his face disappeared. His eyes darkened and his lips turned down until he looked heartbreakingly sad.
“I don’t know.”
A noise from the ground below made my head snap to the left. Ryan and Matt had emerged from the sliding glass doors that led from the basement into the backyard, lugging cases of beer and another cooler with them, and effectively ending my and David’s conversation.
The way his eyes moved over me as I went back inside—filled with questions and judgment—told me it wasn’t over for good.
From there, I can’t say the fun factor picked up. Maybe it was because of the pains I took to avoid being within twenty feet of David for the rest of the night. Or maybe it was because I was the only one not drunk, or even the slightest bit tipsy.
I wanted to gouge my own eyes out by the time Ryan and Matt were playing their umpteenth round of beer-buzzed video game race car driving in the basement. Nearly everyone had left, Violet had disappeared, and Candy was curled up in an armchair snoring softly.
“Grab a controller, babe,” Ryan said. “I want to race against you.”
“Not tonight.” I stood up and stretched. “I’m going to find Violet and say good-bye. Finish up your game, okay? I want to go home when I get back.”
“Kiss me first.” Ryan gave me a bleary-eyed smile and puckered his lips. When I leaned in, he grabbed me around the waist and tried to pull me on top of him. “Candle Wax is sleeping,” he slurred, his booze breath hitting me full in the face. “How ’bout she stays here with Vi and I come home with you?”
I kissed his cheek before freeing myself from his grip and smoothing my dress. “Not tonight, Ry. I’ll drive you home, and Matt can bring you to get your car from my house tomorrow.”
“Totally,” Matt agreed, his eyes never leaving the TV screen.
Ryan scowled, and I felt his eyes following me as I headed toward the stairs that led up to the main level. The moment the quiet darkness of the stairwell surrounded me, I felt relieved. I could not wait for this night to be over.
I made my way through the kitchen and opened the screen door to the deck. The sound of David’s voice and Violet’s giggle made me stop in my tracks. I got the distinct feeling I’d be intruding on something if I made my presence known. Goose bumps stood up on my arms in spite of the warm night air as I maneuvered behind a tall potted plant and looked down at the pool.
“Come on,” Violet said conspiratorially, leading David by the hand to the steps that descended into the water. He still had his T-shirt on, but he’d traded his jeans for swim trunks. “Everyone’s gone. Let’s go for a swim.” She released his hand and glided into the water.
He hesitated at the second step, protesting that the water was cold, even though Violet seemed fine at waist-deep. She stuck her lower lip out and tugged at his hand. “Just for a little bit? I won’t make you miss curfew. Promise.”
“All right. But I can’t stay much longer.”
Violet bounced and clapped as David threw off his T-shirt, hurried into the water, and submerged himself. The ripping-it-off-like-a-Band-Aid approach, as he’d always called it. The one he always tried to get me to use on our summer vacations, when he’d be up to his chest in ocean water and I’d still be at the shore tiptoeing my way in.
David ran his hands over his face and hair as he came up for air. “Your turn,” he said.
“No way!” Violet tittered furiously and made a half-assed attempt to get away from him, but he grabbed her around the waist and pretended to overpower her as she laughed like a yelping Chihuahua. No wonder girls like Amy Heffernan and Isabel Rose turned into doe-eyed tramps around him. The boy knew his way around the flirting game. It was a side of him I didn’t care to see.
And yet, I couldn’t. Stop. Looking.
“I’m just kidding.” David released her and put his hands on the outer edge of the pool, leaning up against it. If it was a tactic to put distance between them, wh
ich I doubted, Violet didn’t take it that way. She draped her arms around his waist and propped her chin against his chest.
“See? This isn’t so bad, is it?” she said.
“Nope. It isn’t.”
One of her hands moved up toward his face, and she traced the scar beneath his lip with her finger. “How’d you get that?”
Even with only a slice of his profile visible from where I stood, I knew David was embarrassed by the way he turned his head and rubbed at his chin, as if he were trying to scrub away the mark. I leaned closer, curious to know the answer.
“Ran into a door,” David mumbled.
Violet seemed oblivious to his discomfort and touched his face again. “Scars are sexy.”
“Right. I knew that. I did it on purpose.”
More giggles. Then she leaned up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, and my stomach started to cave in on itself.
Stop looking. Walk away. Escape, now!
Violet put her lips against the scar and kissed it. “There,” she said. “All better now.” And just as I managed to convince myself that maybe that was the worst of it, her mouth moved to his, and she kissed him for real.
It was like driving by an accident. Even when he put his hands on her waist and tilted his head in response, I couldn’t peel my eyes from the scene.
It occurred to me then that even though we’d both dated other people, I’d never actually seen David kiss another girl. I’d never given any thought to how it would make me feel.
It felt like my vital organs had simultaneously imploded.
I felt hurt, too, though I had no right to. Violet had asked if I’d be okay with it, and I’d said yes. So why did I want nothing more than to hurl something heavy and blunt directly at her head and tell her to keep her whore slut hands off him?
Something rough and sharp dug into my finger, and I realized I’d gripped the edge of the deck hard enough to turn my knuckles white. That unsanded knothole brought me back to reality. I took a step away, irritated at the effort it took to get myself under control. But before I could turn around and walk into the house, something in the bay window across the way caught my attention.