by Amy Sparling
She turns over, shifting onto her back. I lie down next to her and reach for her hand, pulling it to my chest.
“You shouldn’t do that,” she says.
“Why?” I ask. I turn sideways to look at her.
“Because you're leaving. Because holding my hand is a pointless comfort right now. It means nothing.”
“It doesn't mean nothing to me.”
She pulls her hand away. “You can't hold my hand, Jace. You can't kiss me and you can't bring me flowers. Because pretty soon you're leaving forever and I'll never see you again and it'll be the most pointless summer of my life.”
I can’t help it. I start laughing. She punches me in the arm and then I sit up and pull her into a sitting position next to me. “Bayleigh, Bayleigh, Bayleigh,” I say, taking her face in my hands. “I have something exciting to tell you.”
“Exciting for you, maybe.” She pouts and looks away.
“Exciting for both of us,” I say, trailing my hands down her arms until her fingers link into mine. “I just got back from Mixon Motocross Park.”
“Okay….” She says, sounding less than excited.
“The owner offered me a job. My own motocross school—giving lessons and stuff at his track. It pays a lot of money and it's the perfect alternative since I can't race professionally anymore.”
She bites her lip. “Where did you say this track is located?”
I smile because the GPS has already told me all I need to know. “About thirty minutes from your hometown.”
Her eyebrows narrow. “What are you saying?”
I lean forward and place a soft kiss on her forehead. “I'm staying in Texas. I'm going to move to Mixon and work there. I'm not going back to LA.”
“Are you sure?” Her voice is a whisper, her eyes soft.
I nod. “I have nothing in LA worth going back for. Here, I have you.”
Her hesitant expression turns into a grin. I squeeze her hands and say, “That is, of course, if you'll be my girlfriend.”
Chapter 15
Her smile is contagious. I’ve never been so happy in my life, and then she frowns and says, “Are you serious?”
Talk about taking the wind out of my sails.
“Yes,” I say, still holding onto her hands because I’m afraid she’ll slip away.
“Wow,” she breathes. She looks down at her lap, at our intertwined hands. “I mean…wow. I didn’t think you felt that way about me.”
“How could you think that?” I bring her hand up to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “I’ve been pretty obvious about how I feel about you.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, but then you said you were going back home.”
“And I shouldn’t have said that. Because I’m not. I can’t leave you, not after I’ve totally fallen for you.”
She blushes and that cute grin comes back. “Okay,” she says, looking up at me through her eyelashes.
“Are you saying yes?” I ask.
She nods. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”
Warmth spreads through my entire body. I hadn’t realized how much I needed her to say those words until she did just now. Now I am complete. Now I am happy. Nothing else matters other than her and me and this very moment.
I take her face in my hands and bring her lips to mine. She smells like green apple shampoo, and she sighs a little as I kiss her, and it’s so adorable. I am so crazy about this girl.
Her hands slide up and around my neck and she holds me close. We’re on her bed, but I don’t try to take it any further. There will be plenty of time for that later.
For now, I want to take things slow, and get to know every single thing there is to know about my new girlfriend.
* * *
End of Unplugged Summer
Summer Unplugged
The original story from Bayleigh’s point of view
Chapter 1
I kissed a boy on the cheek and it got me grounded for the whole summer. A measly, meaningless cheek kiss. Mom freaked. Ian bolted without saying bye. Mom yelled for an eternity and then stormed back inside leaving me fully clothed, bra unhooked, feet dangling in the pool. It sucks that she came home from work an hour earlier than usual, but at least she wasn't two hours earlier when Ian and me were in the pool, doing way more than cheek-kissing. I know he's the one for me. But she doesn't see it that way.
She freaks about the stupidest things sometimes. But she always says I've lost her trust so, my bad. It wasn't the kiss that pissed her off. It’s probably the fact that she banned Ian from our house two months ago when he was thrown into juvi for selling weed. I never smoked it with him so it's not really a big deal. And then last week she banned me from seeing him when she caught us skipping school together. In my bed. Anyhow the details don't matter anymore because she finally had enough of my being a normal teenager and she's decided to take away my life. I mean my cell phone. Same thing.
At least it's Friday. My flat iron hisses as I rake it through my hair until I hear mom's bedroom TV turn off around 10:30 as it always does. I finish my hair, throw on some makeup with extra sparkly eyeliner and call Becca. She isn't my first friend of choice but, she has a car and is a total pushover.
“I need a ride to the senior's party,” I say. “And I'm thinking you could totally use a passenger.”
“Bayleigh,” she groans. It's obvious she's annoyed with me, but she'll get over it because without me, she wouldn't be invited to a party this big. “Your house is twenty minutes out of the way, if I take you home too I'll have to leave forty minutes before my curfew.”
“Just get me. Please?” My knuckles are white on the clear plastic corded phone. I haven't used this thing in forever. No one uses house phones anymore. Silence on the other end. “I'm sorry,” I say with sincerity. “Just please come get me. I'll find another ride home.”
“Fine,” she says, ending the call.
An unearthly wave of heat rests over the town as I wait on the front porch for her to arrive. The humidity will ruin my hair if she makes me wait another five minutes. Two minutes later she pulls into the driveway, headlights on. What. An. Idiot.
I run to her car and swing open the passenger door. “Turn off the lights,” I hiss. She fumbles on the dashboard, feeling for the switch. She's only been driving two months and she's not nearly as skilled as I am in the art of being stealthy and sneaking out. Becca's just not the kind of person who sneaks out. She's not like me. I should forgive her slipups and not scream since she did go out of her way to give me a ride.
But then the front door swings open with a violent swoosh and now I know I won't ever forgive her. Because I've just been caught.
Chapter 2
Ninety days of no cell phone. Ninety days of no Ian. Ninety days of grounded.
I am not going to stand for this. I live one block away from the high school. It's Monday morning, the second to last day of school before summer break. Ian hasn't heard from me all day and he's probably going crazy, thinking I'm lying dead in a ditch somewhere.
No one does work in History class because we took finals two days ago and there's nothing left to do. I ask to go to the nurse. Mr. Garcia shoos me out of the door the second I say the word cramps and then I walk home instead of to the nurse's office.
Mom's dresser drawers come up empty. So does her nightstand, closet and under her bed. Under her mattress. Behind all her jars of anti-wrinkle cream and under the stack of bills she hasn't paid yet. I can't think of any other places to look for my cell phone. I try calling it but it goes straight to voicemail which makes sense because my battery has a sucky lifespan.
Defeated, I go to my room hoping that bag of peanut M&Ms is still on my nightstand. My phone is on the middle of my bed, a note on top of it.
Please be good. Love, Mom
Oh hell yes. Mom will get an amazing Mother's Day gift this year. I try calling Ian but he doesn't answer which is odd because he goes to work at the movie theater at three, so he should be awake by now. I try leaving him
a cute, sexy voicemail but it probably comes out kind of lame. Oh well, that's how I am and he likes it.
I walk back to school because ditching the rest of the day would surely get my phone taken away again. I sleep through the next three classes until sixth period. Sign language. My five-year-old cousin Sarra is deaf. Besides her parents, I am the only one who can talk to her because I've put forth an effort to learn the language. Plus my teacher is hands down, the best teacher in this entire school.
Becca and Matt perform a sign language version of the Metallica song Ride the Lightning. Even in sign language it's obvious that Becca is in love with Matt. I feel bad for making out with him freshman year. She says she didn't like him back then, but the wistful look on her face when she sees him tells me that her crush didn't develop overnight.
My phone vibrates. It's a text from Ian – finally.
Babe its hard hanging out with you when your mom's a psycho.
WTF? I write back, phone hidden in the sleeve of my hoody. Ian and I have a flip-flop relationship. It's not even a real relationship since he refuses to call me his girlfriend. Sometimes he claims to love me more than life itself. Other times he flips and wants nothing to do with me. I guess this is another flip. I'm sad but, not really. He'll come back to me.
You coming to my party tomorrow?
I stare at the screen, forced to think about what I haven't wanted to think about. Ian's huge end-of-school bash. Just about everyone is invited and it is vital that I be there. But Mom didn't let me go to a much smaller party last weekend and she wasn't too thrilled when she caught me sneaking out. I write back Yes, despite knowing there's a better chance of me being valedictorian than going that party.
Tuesday night I go to bed defeated, Mom having turned down every bit of begging I did. Bargaining, groveling, crying, guilt-tripping. Nothing worked.
Chapter 3
Ian didn't reply to any of my texts last night. And so far, he hasn't replied to any of my morning texts either. If we were officially dating, I'd threaten to break up with him.
My phone is set on super loud and vibrate mode but I check it again, just in case. Nothing. I shove it back on the nightstand, grinding my teeth. Then I wriggle back under the covers. It's a beautiful Saturday morning, the first day of summer break and I have nothing do but lay in bed all day because I am grounded. And they say we have it better than our grandparents did. Right. I groan, pull the pillow over my head, think seriously about suffocating myself but I know that would never work.
I wish there was some kind of over-the counter-coma pill. A pretty blue pill that would knock me into a three-month coma, ending on the first day of my sophomore year. School sucks, but at least I'd get to see Ian because he promised me he would come back to school for his senior year.
Mom calls for my little brother and me to come to breakfast. Bentley's socked feet run and slide down the hallway. Hard wood floors are fun like that. Run, slide, run, slide. Ugh. Ten year olds have life way better than I do.
I crawl out of bed, grab my phone and trudge to the kitchen. My hands feel sweaty. The morning after fighting with Mom is always awkward. Chances are, she won't mention it anyway. She always yells at me and then on the next day she pretends that nothing happened. Maybe that is some kind of psychological parenting ploy. Or maybe it's all she knows how to do – mothers are the nurturing type. I don't have a father to inflict punishments, so nothing happens when I get in trouble. I smile. I love being the bastard child of a single mom. No punishments – just yelling.
And then she starts yelling at me from the kitchen and I change my mind.
“Bayleigh!” Her voice carries down the hallway. I cringe, but at least she didn't use the middle name too.
“Yeah? I mean, Ma'am?” I say. Bentley's sitting at the bar playing his Nintendo 3DS with the volume way too loud.
“You left the TV and the hall light on all night.” Mom rips into me almost like it was rehearsed. “Unless you want to start paying the light bill, you better turn everything off, dammit.”
“Okay,” I say. She flips a pancake with unnecessary spatula force. “And you haven't fed Patch all week and you know that's your job.”
I sigh. “Yes ma'am.”
She sets a plate of food in front of Bentley and he digs in, somehow still managing to play his video game. She's not going to make a plate for me so I get up and get my own. Between layering pancakes and syrup, my phone vibrates from the counter. I leap around Mom, slamming into her shoulder as I lurch for my phone. It's a text from Ian.
“Jesus, Bayleigh.” Mom's coffee splashes out of her cup. “You almost knocked me over trying to read a text message? Seriously?” Mom is moody today. I open the message.
“It's important,” I say, looking at my phone.
Hey
My heart warms. It's only one word, but it's a word from Ian. I type a reply, read over it, decide it sucks and type a new message. I press send. When I come back to reality, Mom is still gripping her coffee. Her lips are pursed into a frown. She's been watching me.
“What?” I ask.
She reaches out to me with the hand that isn't dripping with coffee. “Give me your phone.”
“What? No.” I pull the handset to my chest, press the lock key just in case she forces it out of my grasp. She can't read my messages without the password.
“You're grounded. That means no parties, no boys, and now it means no cell phone. I tried to give it back to you, but this just won't work.” Her hand, palm up waits for me to surrender my phone. It seems hopeless to try now, but I do what I do best. I cry.
“Please, Mom. Please please don't take my phone.” I grab her, hold her tight. She hugs me back, showing the weakness in her parental armor. “I'll be good, I promise.” She sighs. Pulls me back. Her face is more wrinkly this close. My hand vibrates and I want to read Ian's reply so bad, but I know now is not the time.
The last tear rolls down my cheek. The lines in her forehead soften. “Fine,” she says, retracting her hand. I almost start jumping up and down. “Thanks, Mom.” I hug her again. She freaks because the bacon is burning and rushes over to it.
“You're still grounded,” she says as she rescues the bacon, her back facing me.
“Okay.” I smile. It's not like I can't find a way to see Ian when she's at work.
Chapter 4
After breakfast, Mom and Bentley go shopping for new baseball gear for his summer league. I retreat to my room and play on Facebook. Ian's profile has been tagged with fifty-six new photos from last night's party. I have been tagged in exactly zero photos. Because I didn't get to go.
My blood boils the moment I click on the first photo. Forty of the photos were added by some girl named Stacia who looks like she could very well be a Victoria's Secret model. She definitely doesn't go to our school. One thing is for sure – I've never seen her before. What the hell kind of name is that anyway? I click on her profile. It's private. Fuck.
I go back to his photos and sink into a depression hole that gets deeper with every click. Stacia's captions bother me: TWO HOTTIES. It's a self-taken close-up of her and Ian. I scrutinize every detail, every pixel. At least her hand is around him, not the other way around.
The next several photos chronicle their game of beer pong. The last one has Ian looking tipsy yet adorable. I save it to my desktop. He's holding a Styrofoam cup in one hand, two ping pong balls in the other. I LOVE HIS BALLS! XOXO is the caption. That's it. I text Becca.
Who the fuck is this Stacia girl?
My phone rings, Becca's smiling face showing up on the screen. “Who is she?” I say instead of hello.
“I dunno, I didn't even know her name till I saw the photos online.”
“Was she flirting with him all night?”
“Umm,” she thinks for a moment. She's stalling to save my feelings.
“I knew it,” I say. “What a bitch.”
“She was all over every guy last night, Bayleigh. I don't think you should worry.”
I go back to Stacia's page and stare at the Facebook warning telling me I have to be her friend to view her full profile. “Are you online right now?” I ask her.
“You know I am.”
“Add her as a friend, and then let me know if Ian's posted any comments on her page.” She whines. It takes a few more minutes to coerce her into doing it, and I even have to pull the “You know I would do the same for you” card, but she finally agrees.
Now I have two things on the agenda for today: wait for Ian's next text message and wait for Becca to call me back with details on Stacia's page. I watch an episode of Supernatural, paint my nails, brush my teeth and stare at the ceiling for a million hours until he finally writes me back. His texts are so sporadic, but getting them totally makes my day.
Ian: I want to see you.
I write back, I wish. Mom will be home soon.
I refresh my homepage. No new comments. My phone vibrates. Send me a pic.
Me: That's not the same as seeing me…
I know it's totally against the rules to double text a guy you're crushing on, but I do it anyway.
Me: Speaking of photos, I just saw a ton of you and some girl??? on your profile…
Fifteen minutes later, no reply. Shit, that was a mistake. I bite my lip and do something terrible. I triple text. Where'd ya go?
He replies immediately. Waiting on your pic. Ugh. I send him a photo from my phone's storage of images. It's of me and a kitten. He replies, sexy… anymore?
Me: Who was that girl?
My thumbs ache from pressing the screen so hard.
Ian: No one, pic please? I miss you.
I don't know why he needs so many photos of me when there are hundreds online. I turn my phone's camera on myself, stick out my tongue and cross my eyes and snap a photo. I send it to him.
Ian: Come on, you can do sexier than that.