by Maya William
In front of the bed are two doors. The one at my left remains closed, and the one at my right leads to his small walk-in closet.
Rays of light coming from the wall distract me, bringing my gaze upward. The wall doesn’t meet the ceiling. Instead, there’s a mezzanine, which expands Samuel’s room. I want to stand for a better look, but I don’t want them to think I’m nosy. Which I totally am.
“Your red-currant dress shirt,” David proposes. “It’s the longest one you own, which will reach her knees. Besides, the color will look good on her.”
When I glance at him, his eyes are trained on the floor.
“That sounds like a good choice.” Samuel scratches his chin. “However, she likes pink or gray.”
White also, but after the disaster with the water, I don’t want to risk wearing it now, especially without a bra.
One show is more than enough.
David’s mouth dips at his brother’s words.
“I say we give the red shirt a try.”
The small smile returns to David’s face.
“Of course, you do.” Samuel laughs, pulling it off the hanger. “Here, Samantha, go and change in the bathroom.” He hands it over and points through the door. “I’ll get you a blow-dryer for…” He clears his throat. “Your hair.”
Although we both know he meant to say, “For your underwear,” thankfully he refrains.
Following his instructions, I enter the bathroom and change.
I remove my wet garments and slip on his shirt. The sleeves hang down well past my hands and need to be rolled up. I look like I’m wearing a big bag of Doritos, but what did I expect?
Samuel knocks on the door and, when I open it, hands me the blow-dryer. It takes me almost half an hour to get my underwear completely dry. The missing bra still bugs me, but at least the shirt covers me more than the cami did, and leaving my hair loose covers the girls in case they decide to comment on the weather.
When I step out of the bathroom, Samuel waits for me.
He curls his finger, asking me to step closer.
I stop a few feet away from him.
He focuses on my waist. “Lift your arms?”
He pulls a brown ribbon from his other hand and circles my waist with it, making a knot to give shape to the shirt and turn it into a dress.
He steps back, hand on his chin, and analyzes his work.
“Perfect.” He nods. “The color of the shirt brings out your eyes. Good call, David!” he yells toward his brother’s room.
“Obviously,” David replies.
Nervous, I bite my lower lip as Samuel’s eyes travel up my figure before finally stopping at my face.
He tilts his head toward his room. “Now, you owe me an explanation.”
Oh, nuts! He didn’t forget.
During my short trip to his room, my mind struggles to come up with a plausible explanation to get myself out of this situation.
When the door closes behind me, my stomach drops to the floor.
Sister Agatha would have a fit if she knew I was alone with a guy in his room with the door closed.
My nerves spike up a notch.
Possibilities or chickening out?
He leans against the door, arms crossed over his chest, eyes trained on me.
And blocking my escape route!
“The bump?” He points to the hill on my forehead.
Right, then. Chickening out it is.
“I hit my head on the side mirror of a car on my way down to the ground.” I avoid telling him entirely what happened. “Your mom’s dress suffered some serious damage, by the way.”
He squints at me, lips pursed tightly. “What were you doing outside?”
Darn it! This is worse than going to Confession.
“My feet hurt because of the high heels.” I sigh, remembering he already knew this. “Before the performance, I packed my flats in my gym bag, and Kellan took it to the car.” My voice comes out as a whisper, my heart thumping hard. “I found Kellan and asked for the car keys.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “And he gave them to you?”
I nod. “I kind of promised him you were going to come with me.” I bite my lower lip.
He shakes his head and turns his eyes to the ceiling. “And you decided to go alone?”
“Of course not!” I quickly reply. “I asked Vicente and Rodrigo to accompany me when I couldn’t find you.”
His gaze returns to me. “Okay.” He nods, still not happy with my answer. “Continue.”
Shoot! I hoped he’d assume I hit my head on the way to the car.
“When we reach the reserved parking lot, a guy was vandalizing Father Gomez’s car. Rodrigo and Vicente ran after the man and asked me to go for help. I met one of the security guys and told him about the situation.”
“Humph.”
“On my way back to the party…” Now comes the critical point. I glance at him. “Portia was there trying to get inside. She had a fake ID, and Lyra’s system caught it. She asked me if I could pull some strings and get her inside.”
His stern expression softens.
“I refused to help her, and…” I gulp and drop my eyes to the floor. “I fell on my way back to the party.” I give him a half-truth, chickening out at the last minute. “Father Gomez found me, and Portia kept trying to tell him she should be able to go inside, but he recognized her name and sent her home. After I hit my head, it hurt terribly. Father Gomez insisted I come here to spend the night.”
I glance at Samuel to find him nodding and pursing his lips.
“And why didn’t you come and get me? I’d have gladly driven you here or to your house.” The corner of his mouth dips.
“I didn’t want you to miss the party. You really looked forward to it, and Joy was having a lot of fun,” I explain. However, yesterday’s reasoning doesn’t seem as logical today, especially when he gives me a bitter smile. “I didn’t want to ruin it.”
“I searched for you all over the place”—slowly, he shakes his head—“high and low until I found Father Gomez, who told me you left because you didn’t feel well.”
“Sorry, I didn’t—”
“I was really worried when I couldn’t find you.”
“I thought you’d rather stay at the party with your friends than watch over me until my headache disappeared.” I fix my gaze on the carpet, guiltily avoiding his eyes.
Well, if the few flashes I remember from yesterday after I took the “aspirin” turn out to be true, he’d have had a blast.
“You’re wrong. I would have rather stayed here with you,” he says. “I should have been the one to accompany you to the car to fetch your shoes. I should have been there to help you face Portia. And above all, I should have been there to catch you when you tripped.”
Technically, Portia pushed me, but…yeah, I get the point.
When I glance at him, his stony expression breaks my heart.
“I wanted to teach you how to slow dance,” he adds, disappointed, “and to spend an evening with you, having fun.”
Stupid, Samantha! If I’d waited a little longer, I could have danced the night away with him.
“But, alas, it wasn’t meant to be.” He gives a curt nod and turns his gaze down.
No, no, no. It is! Big Guy, some divine help?
Nervously, I step closer; the frown on his face gives me the courage I lacked. I reach for his hand, stopping a few inches away from touching it.
Lyra’s words resonate in the back of my mind. Let him be the one to make the first move.
“Samuel, perhaps w-w-we could…” I stammer, pulling my hand back.
A knock on the door interrupts us.
“Mom said you should keep the door open.” David barges in, hitting Samuel in the back with it.
He stumbles forward, bumping into me, not realizing I stand mere inches away from him. He puts his arm around my waist, keeping me from falling.
Yes, he would have totally caught me yesterday.
; David quickly looks at the situation, his eyes briefly stopping at the location of Samuel’s arm.
“Do you now feel cognizant enough to realize Samuel’s lips aren’t hot and they can’t set you on fire?” he asks with such simplicity, as if he’s asking about the weather.
He. Did. Not. Just. Say. That.
Samuel turns toward me, eyes full of questions.
My face, neck, and ears feel impossibly hot. In a swift move, I step away from his hold and focus my gaze on his brother.
“David, would it be all right if I eat something? I’m starving,” I quickly interject, hoping to change the subject before Samuel figures out what David’s talking about.
“It is understandable; you haven’t eaten since…” David explains while we both walk out of Samuel’s room.
Big Guy, can you please shoot me now?
Dance with me tonight
All hell breaks loose when I arrive home late in the afternoon.
Zach insists on calling Uncle Jonathan to come by and check my bruise, while Abigail doesn’t utter a word to me until our Uncle confirms it will heal on its own and there shouldn’t be any side effect. He gives me an earful, though, for not calling him the moment I got hurt.
At this rate, the next time I scrape my knee, I’ll have to call the National Guard.
After Uncle Jonathan leaves, Oliver calls for a family meeting and, at their insistence, I give them a rundown of what happened with Portia. Unfortunately, once a lie starts, one needs to stick to it, especially when Samuel forms part of the audience.
I purposely don’t tell them about the whole accidental-drugging-incident, hoping that stays between Miranda, Maria, and David, as well as the whole flashing David and Samuel accident.
Jeez, the list of my indiscretions continues to grow. It seems the nuns might have been onto something when I attended Saint Magdalene.
By the end of my story, it’s hard to know what goes through their minds, but one thing is clear: Portia cemented her position on their bullying list.
Once in my room, Barb offers to cut my hair to give me bangs to hide the bruise. As much as I don’t want to look more like my sister, I agree, knowing it won’t magically disappear by Monday.
On Sunday, when Lyra learns Samuel won’t be joining me at church and someone else needs to take me, she proposes, “I say we vote on it.”
I’m already dressed and ready to go, while everyone else is still eating the huevos rancheros I prepared for breakfast.
“What’s there to vote on? She already knows how to drive; she has a license and several of you already witnessed her driving skills,” Archie points out. “I say we give her the keys and let her go on her own.”
What? I knew at some point I’d be driving alone, but, well, I didn’t expect that to be today.
Abigail glares at him. While she happens to be one of the witnesses Archie mentioned, she clearly still doesn’t trust me.
“Oh, come on! If there’s any day I’m willing to give her keys to Zach’s car, it’s today,” Archie complains. “It’s Sunday morning; half the city’s still asleep. The streets are empty. She’s a fine driver, and she needs to practice doing it on her own.”
“You make some good points,” Oliver agrees.
Archie’s head snaps toward Oliver. “I do?” He raises his eyebrows before his cocky attitude returns. “Yeah, of course, I do.”
“Let her take the car,” Oliver instructs. “It’ll give us more people to search through the student ID’s Father Gomez confiscated. We can also check the cameras at the entrance of the recreation center and pinpoint a few bullies.”
“But it’s Sunday,” Joy whines sleepily.
“We need to take advantage of this opportunity while it’s still fresh,” Oliver replies, “and prepare a game plan for tomorrow.”
My eyes travel from one side of the table to the other, waiting for somebody to argue Oliver’s order.
“Okay,” Zach finally agrees. “Just be careful, Squirt.”
Oh My Big Guy! Zach said yes?
“I will!” I exclaim happily while internally doing a happy dance.
“Take your cell phone, and if anything goes wrong, call us!” Abigail adds.
Wow! My sister agrees? Really?
“Definitely,” I promise and run to retrieve the car keys.
“And, my lady.” Archie stands and brings his plate to the sink. “No texting, making, or answering calls while you drive.” He drops his dirty dish and gives me a stern look. “If you need to do any of those things, pull over.”
My arms wrap around his waist to hug him.
He chuckles, circles me with his arms, and pulls me closer, keeping me there.
“Thank you for trusting me,” I whisper and give him a peck on the cheek.
He laughs at my display of affection. “The lengths I need to go to, to earn a kiss from my fair Lady Twinkle Toes.”
I roll my eyes, but my smile remains on my lips as I let him go.
When I turn, mouths fall open and eyebrows shoot up amongst those still at the table.
Archie smirks and juts his chin out. “What? You don’t say anything when she hugs Samuel.”
I shake my head and ignore the rest of the questioning glances that follow me to the door.
The whole drive to the church, my heart stays lodged in my throat, my eyes constantly checking the mirrors, and I internally curse when something doesn’t go as expected. But all in all, I arrive at the church in one piece, and Zach’s car remains scratch-free.
Okay. I take several deep breaths. I did it!
Outside the car, I notice my marvelous parking job and fist pump the air. Nailed it!
Once inside, I walk straight to our usual bench in the choir area, where David already sits by himself. After greeting him, I search the lower part of the church, hoping to find Miranda, but she’s not here, not even in the area reserved for the sick and seniors.
When the service ends, David and I walk out front where, to my surprise, I can’t find another Solis in sight waiting to take David home.
“Samuel said I could catch a ride back to the house with you,” he declares.
Did he?
The request seems strange. Either he trusts my driving skills, or he doesn’t know about me driving solo.
Most likely the second option.
However, knowing the rest planned to work on the investigation, I decide not to call them for help. After all, Miranda’s house only requires a small detour from my route.
“Certainly,” I reply. “Can you give me a few minutes? I need to talk with Father Gomez.”
David nods and goes to sit at a bench close by.
“I believe you abuse your power,” the annoying voice of Mrs. Tribecca reaches my ears, making my insides boil. The two times we’ve met, she’s either been demanding or complaining about something, and this time is no different. “You used church property to throw a party.”
Oh, brother!
“Why, Mrs. Tribecca, I don’t understand how you think this opportunity to help the community is taking advantage of my position?” Father Gomez smiles. “I don’t recall you having any issues with the last couple of charity events; especially after the success of the black and white gala. It funded a lot of the church’s renovations.”
Mrs. Tribecca’s eyes narrow, her brow wrinkling. “I don’t have anything against charity events. However, a Halloween party goes against Catholic beliefs. For all I know, you secretly adore Satan. After all, you already put up the altars.”
Father Gomez’s hand flies to his chest. “Mrs. Tribecca, out of everyone, how can you believe I’d allow such a terrible thing?” he reprimands her, acting as if she slapped him in the face. “I do understand your concern. But if you recall correctly, prior to ending the service today, I requested help from the attendants to set the altar up tomorrow.”
He raises his eyebrows, waiting until she slowly nods.
Somebody wasn’t paying attention during mass.
&nb
sp; “Secondly,” Father Gomez continues, “you’ve been terribly misinformed. While the party involved costumes, they weren’t Halloween ones. The theme of the party was Outlaw Heroes.”
“Outlaw Heroes? How is that supposed to make it any better?” she shrieks, earning attention from the crowd.
Father Gomez turns, not liking the scene she’s making. A small smile creeps onto his lips.
Oh, Big Guy, he’s about to give her an earful.
“I can’t believe you have such a poor opinion of Outlaw Heroes.” He puts his hands together and shakes his head. “You do realize, back in the time of our good Lord, they judged Jesus Christ as a bandit, and because of that, they crucified Him?”
Mrs. Tribecca blanches. “But—”
“Also, they persecuted Him a few days after He came to this world by Herod, when he ordered all the children less than a year old to be murdered,” he continues. “Technically, He’s been an outlaw ever since then.”
“You know what I refer to, and our Good Lord has nothing to do with this,” she quickly replies, defending herself from how the Priest twisted her words. “The party was—”
“The party was for students of Calvary school,” he interrupts, “which I believe your son attends. Some students wanted to do something for a less privileged school; they came and asked for my help. I was more than happy to aid them.”
“But, but…” she sputters, “if it was for students at Calvary, as you say, why didn’t they allow my son to enter?”
Father Gomez laughs in surprise. “Was your son there?”
“Yes.” She straightens her back and lifts her head proudly. “He said they didn’t allow him to enter, even though he brought his student ID.”
“Give me a second to remember.” Father Gomez puts his hand on his chin and raises his eyes to the sky. “If I recall correctly, he wore a Dracula costume.”
Mrs. Tribecca slowly nods.
“Now, I wouldn’t consider a vampire an Outlaw Hero.” The priest wrinkles his brow. “Would you?”
Mrs. Tribecca keeps her head steady, not acknowledging the fact his costume indeed happened to be a Halloween themed one.