Her mom’s face went white. “What are you talking about?” she asked. She brought her hand to her mouth and began chewing on the skin around one well-manicured nail.
“Oh, come on, Mom.” Ciara gave her mother a glare full of all the rage she’d been storing up since she’d found out about the divorce: rage that up until then, she’d barely even let herself have. “I know about Clyde, okay? I heard both you and Dad mention it on the phone to your lawyers.”
She watched her mom’s face get even paler, but she was too angry to stop herself. “If you had to be so low and sneaky that you went creeping around behind Dad’s back, you have no right to talk about how great he was like this divorce was some big mutual thing.”
“It was a mutual thing,” her mom whispered. She gripped the edge of the table with both hands as if trying to steady herself.
“Yeah, sure it was,” Ciara spat. “You cheated on him. Real mutual, Mom.”
“Your dad forgave me for Clyde,” her mom croaked. She took a deep breath and continued. “But he said he could never trust me again, and if he couldn’t trust me, we couldn’t remain married. And I realized that I’d relied on him for so much of my life, I never had the chance to become my own person.”
“And the way you became your own person was by sleeping around?” Ciara asked, slitting her eyes.
“Ciara!” Her mom’s loud, shaky voice caused several other diners to jerk their heads in their direction. Ciara ducked her head in embarrassment. So much for no drama.
“How dare you accuse me of sleeping around,” her mom continued in a lower tone that contained no less venom. “I had relations with one person besides your father.”
“I can’t believe you’re still talking about it like it wasn’t your fault!” Ciara hurled the words at her mother before she had a chance to screen them on their way out of her mouth. “It wasn’t some unnatural force of evil that destroyed your marriage. You did. Everything was fine until you had to go and get it on with Clyde, and now I don’t have a real family anymore.”
“You still have a family.” Tears gathered in her mom’s eyes, and she tried to reach across the table and take Ciara’s hand in hers, but Ciara jerked her hand away and shook her head. “Just because your father and I aren’t married anymore doesn’t mean we don’t love you.”
“Thanks for reading the pop psychology manual on talking to your kids about divorce,” Ciara snapped. She was disgusted. All she wanted was for her mom to take responsibility for her actions. No, scratch that—all she really wanted was for her mom to have never done any of it in the first place.
“I mean it,” her mom said, bringing her other hand to her mouth and nibbling on the skin around her pinkie nail.
Ciara wasn’t in the mood for platitudes. She leaned back in her chair, away from her mom. “So I think I’m going to stay in Santa Barbara this fall instead of coming back to LA,” she said, the way she might have said she thought she was going to have the key lime tart for dessert instead of the chocolate-cream pie.
Her mom practically spit out her club soda. Her face turned red as she brought her napkin to her lips, coughing into it.
“What do you mean, you’re staying in Santa Barbara this fall?” she gasped.
Ciara shrugged. She hadn’t even meant to tell her mom about her plans—if they were even still plans—but the whole conversation made her so mad she wanted something to throw back in her mom’s face. Something that would finally get it through her head that Ciara wasn’t some dumb little kid who could be lied to and then quickly smoothed over with a kind word or two. “Dad lives here now, and there’s plenty of room for me in the house,” she said. “Plus, I have friends here, and the public schools are excellent, so you wouldn’t have to pay for tuition at Westwood anymore.”
“But I already put down the deposit!” Her mom looked like she was drowning. “And I’ve painted your bedroom, and what about the debate club, and won’t Em miss you, and…”
“Those are just details, Mom,” Ciara said coldly. She took the napkin off her lap and folded it neatly on the table. “And maybe you should have thought of those before you took up with Clyde. Because you know what? When you cheated on Dad, it wasn’t just him you screwed over. It was me too.”
Ciara felt so calm she was almost shaking. Without another word, she stood up and walked out of the restaurant.
Chapter Sixteen
Wear clean drawers every day
’Cuz things may fall the wrong way
—The Coup
Ciara drove aimlessly up and down the streets of Santa Barbara for a while, watching the wealthy summer people promenade up and down the well-kept main street with its white-and-peach Spanish stucco specialty shops and neatly coiffed palm trees. She could hardly believe she’d just walked out on her mom like that. On one hand, it had felt good to tell her how she felt after over a month of polite phone conversation. On the other, she felt kind of bad that she’d hurt her mom’s feelings.
Feeling aimless and discouraged, she drove down to the beach and pulled into the parking lot by the skate park. Thin, serious-looking boys with long yellow hair peeking out from under their helmets poised at the top of the quarter pipe, their mouths set in hard determination in the moment before they went flying down the pipe, soaring up again on the other side, sometimes crashing in the middle with their boards on top of them. She wished she had something to do with the rest of her day or at least someone to talk to.
She pulled out her phone and called Kevin, remembering how calm his hand on her shoulder had made her feel earlier that morning. Kevin had been through his parents getting a divorce—he would understand. Maybe he’d even have some good advice for her.
It took Kevin a long time to pick up, but he answered just as she’d resigned herself to talking to his voice mail.
“Hey,” he said, his voice deep and comforting. “How was lunch?”
Ciara suddenly found herself not wanting to talk about it. The gray sky made her feel listless and frustrated.
“It was fine,” she said simply. “I’m bored. Want to hang out or something?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Uh, I’m kind of chilling with Marlene right now,” Kevin said finally. “Is it okay if I call you later?”
Ciara said it was fine, even though she sort of felt like it wasn’t. As she hung up and watched a tubby middle school guy try to flip an ollie, she realized it was the first time all summer Kevin had blown her off. Maybe now that they didn’t have Operation Woo-ha, she didn’t matter to him as much anymore. The thought made her inexplicably blue. She tried to tell herself that she didn’t need him as much, either, but even the stern voice inside her head didn’t sound very convincing. She pictured Marlene in Kevin’s studio, sitting on the floor next to him as they listened to record after record, their knees bumping as they talked and laughed. The image made her chest tight and achy. Why couldn’t Kevin hang out with her and Marlene at the same time? Something must be going on between them!
She realized she was breathing heavily, and her cheeks felt hot as she walked away from the skate park and toward the pier, the briny smell of the ocean so strong it was almost suffocating. Three young girls strolled by her, laughing as they licked at dripping ice-cream cones. She fought pangs of jealousy, wishing she had someone to spend the afternoon with. Of course, she could always call Heidi, but something told her that dealing with Heidi’s grief over AJ would only make her more depressed. Instead, she sat down on a bench and watched the wind whip the ocean’s surface into tiny white-tipped wavelets. A seagull perched on the rail in front of her and looked at her accusingly.
“What?” she asked it out loud.
The seagull cocked its head, as if to say, “You know what.”
Her cell phone buzzed, startling the seagull so that it flew away. Ciara’s heart leaped in her chest. Maybe Kevin had changed his mind! She knew that just spending a few hours with him would make her feel better. But when she flipped it open to check the text
, she was stunned to see that it wasn’t Kevin at all.
It was AJ.
What’s going on? it said.
Ciara couldn’t help thinking that was a damn good question. What was going on? Why was AJ texting her the day after more or less dumping her the moment she’d shown him how she really felt? Did he mean “what’s going on” as in “what are you up to today?” or “what’s going on with us?” And why was she disappointed that the text was from him instead of Kevin? Why was Kevin suddenly the only thing on her mind?
Should she text AJ back right away? Wait a while so she wouldn’t seem all desperate? Why did a simple text message have the power to plummet her into the throes of confusion? That was the problem with text messages—the lack of context was enough to drive anyone nuts.
Loneliness and curiosity won out over not seeming desperate, and she texted him back: Not much. Bored. What r u up to?
She wandered over to one of the cheesy souvenir shops while waiting for him to text her back. A rack of mini California license plates stared up at her, and she idly spun it to the Cs, looking for her name. A T-shirt with Santa Barbara written across the front in colorful graffiti script caught her eye, and she thought briefly about getting it for Kevin—he would get a kick out of how tacky it was.
Stop thinking about Kevin! she admonished herself. But she couldn’t. Her thoughts returned obsessively to the hug they’d shared earlier that morning, replaying it from a million different angles. What had it meant…and why had it meant so much?
AJ finally texted back, inviting her over. Well, why not? She had nothing better to do. She considered running home and changing out of her conservative lunch-with-mom clothes and into something sexier—the kind of thing that would make AJ sit up and take notice—but then decided not to bother. He’d already more or less said he wasn’t into her, so why keep trying? It was time to bury Operation Woo-ha as far in the recesses of her mind as it would go.
When she got to AJ’s place, he was sitting on his bed, listening to a recording of his last practice session with the B-Dizzy Crew and looking over a bunch of papers spread out over the covers.
“Hey, AJ.” She sat down on the edge of his bed. “How’s it going?”
“Great. I was just looking at these drafts of our logo. Which one do you like?”
Ciara leaned over to get a better look. Her head was now just inches from his, and his musky smell was starting to affect her. Why did she have to be so attracted to him? It was unfair. Her brain was telling her to just call it quits and accept that they would only ever be friends, but the way her pulse raced and her skin heated up when she was around him said something else entirely. She wondered idly if it was really anything more than pure lust.
“I like this one,” she said, picking up a page that had the crew’s name written in shaky, angular blue graffiti print with green lines around it. “The lines make it look kind of techie—like you’re on the cutting edge.”
AJ grinned, showing off his dimples. “I think that’s my favorite too,” he said. “But then again, I really like this one.” He held up a page where the letters were all on different levels, making the logo look kind of disoriented.
“It’s a little hard to read,” Ciara said dubiously. She was having trouble concentrating on the logos. All she could think about was what had happened the night before. Their kiss and subsequent conversation hung in the air like an invisible question mark; everything about the two of them being together felt different to her, but AJ seemed oblivious. He was going on and on about the image he wanted to create for the group, how he wanted to be seen as hard-core but also kind of playful at the same time, kind of like A Tribe Called Quest in the early days, and Ciara felt herself tuning in and out as he spoke. She watched his thick, full lips move up and down while he talked and couldn’t help thinking she wanted those lips to kiss her again. How many times over the summer had she been distracted from what AJ was saying by how hot he was? And why was the thought of kissing suddenly making her think of Kevin?
She realized AJ was looking at her expectantly. He’d asked a question, and she had missed it.
“What?” she asked dumbly.
“I asked if you wanted to go to the mall,” AJ said. “I want to pick up the new 50 Cent album.”
“Oh,” Ciara said, coming out of her haze. “Sure.”
Maybe being in public would make her less loopy. As it was, she couldn’t help thinking that here they were alone in his bedroom with his parents not home…sitting on his bed, for goodness sake. No wonder she was getting worked up. Given her past, it would be a dangerous situation with anyone, let alone a guy as hot as AJ.
In the car, AJ plugged in his iPod and tuned it to yet another practice session recording of the B-Dizzy Crew.
“What do you think of this song?” he asked. Ciara listened to his voice coming through the speakers. To be honest, it wasn’t the most original song she’d ever heard.
“It’s good,” she said diplomatically. “But maybe the lyrics could use a little spicing up. I mean, you basically just repeat the same line over and over again.”
She could almost see the hairs on the back of AJ’s neck bristle. “You don’t like it?” he asked.
“I didn’t say that!” Ciara assured him. “I just think there’s room for improvement. I mean, you want to be the best, right?”
“Yeah…,” AJ said reluctantly. “But I thought that song was really good.”
Ciara shrugged. Why was he having so much trouble taking a little criticism? If he wanted to make it big, he would probably have to endure a whole lot more of it. “So add some more words,” she said. “I mean, that line is catchy and people can sing along to it, but maybe you should have a verse or two explaining what you’re talking about. I mean, you say ‘da girl looks good, da girl looks fine, gonna make her mine.’ Maybe you could say what girl, or why you like her so much, or what it is that makes her look good. Like, describe her a little. Talk about the situation. You know, build some narrative.”
AJ looked confused, and Ciara gave up. She stared out the window and watched the scenery roll by until they got to the mall. As they entered the double doors leading to the glassed-in atrium, a group of girls stared openly at AJ before turning to each other and whispering in hushed, excited voices. AJ gave her a helpless shrug, and Ciara felt her annoyance increase. No wonder Marlene was always harping on AJ’s ego—it really did start to get on your nerves after a while.
Thinking of Marlene made her think of Kevin, which made her chest tighten again. She wondered what the two of them were doing right then. She hoped it was something really innocuous and preferably with a lot of other people around.
“Hey, chill,” AJ said. “You look like you’re about to bite someone’s head off. I didn’t even say hi to those girls!”
It took Ciara a moment to realize what he was talking about, and she almost laughed when she did. As usual, AJ thought that everything in the world had to do with him. Although, come to think of it, for most of the summer she’d thought so too.
The new 50 Cent album was playing over the speakers in the music store, and kids in bright, clean clothes flipped through racks of CDs or listened to music through headphones, bobbing their heads up and down to their own private beats.
“All right!” AJ said excitedly. “This tune is pumping!”
The pixie-like girl at the counter flipped her platinum-streaked hair over her shoulder and shot AJ a coy smile as he walked in.
“Maybe they’ll be playing my tunes in here someday,” he said to Ciara, loud enough for the pixie to hear. He picked up the CD from the Hot Picks rack in the front of the store, and Ciara wandered over to the hip-hop section to see if they had the J-Live album that Kevin had played for her recently. AJ followed her, asking what she was looking for.
“Oh, that guy’s amazing,” he said when she told him. “Did you know he DJs and emcees at the same time? I could never do that.”
“It’s gotta be incredibly hard,�
�� Ciara agreed. “And did you know he’s also an inner-city public school teacher?”
“Talk about an overachiever.” AJ laughed.
They spent a long time looking over the CDs in the hip-hop section, talking about their favorite artists and which groups never should have recorded albums in the first place. Ciara was starting to relax. This was how she liked things to be with AJ: easy and fun, without any drama. Her favorite thing about hanging out with him was just shooting the breeze and talking about music and laughing.
“So, you just wanted to stop in and get the new 50 Cent CD, huh?” Ciara joked as they strolled out of the store together.
“No more Frappuccinos for me this summer.” AJ groaned. “I just spent almost a hundred bucks.” He glanced inside the big yellow bag from the music store, which was stuffed with CDs.
“Please,” Ciara scoffed. “Which is more important—coffee or music?”
AJ laughed and draped his arm over her shoulders. “That’s what I like about you,” he said easily as they strolled toward the food court. “You got your priorities straight.”
There it was—his arm over her shoulders, warm and heavy and hyper-real. With her arm still down at her side, it bumped awkwardly against his hip, so she wrapped it around his waist. She tried to pretend to herself that it was no big deal—they were just friends walking through the mall with their arms around each other. But why did he keep sending her mixed messages? Either he liked her or he didn’t…which meant that either he wanted to touch her or he didn’t. The fact that he couldn’t be clear with her was starting to get on her nerves.
She looked up at him, hoping to see some kind of sign in his eyes. Was that smile he was giving her suggestive and loaded with longing and hidden meaning or just a regular old grin because she’d said something funny? It was hard to tell with AJ. It was almost like he wanted to keep things ambiguous—and he was so cute, it clouded her powers of deductive reasoning.
“You know, sometimes I feel like you’re sending me mixed signals,” she murmured as AJ nuzzled his cheek against her hair. It was the kind of gesture you usually saw a guy doing when he’d been dating someone a long time, not when he’d just rejected her the night before. She felt like she had a right to be confused.
The Perfect Boy Page 13