That Boy (That Boy Series Book 1)

by Jillian Dodd

  Table Of Contents

  Title page

  Copyright page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Other Books By Jillian

  About the Author

  that boy

  By Jillian Dodd

  Copyright 2011 by Jillian Dodd

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  bandit publishing

  Flower Mound, TX

  Cover and Book Illustrations by Jillian Dodd

  ISBN: 978-0-615-40898-9

  To my bandit, my angel, and my very own prince charming,

  your support means the world to me.

  “You arrogant son of a bitch,” I say.

  Well, maybe I growl it. It’s hard to say for certain. But I can tell you this. I am fuming, smoke-flying-out-of-my-ears mad as I take the engagement ring off my finger, shove it into his hand, and march toward the stage. The march to the stage feels like it takes forever, because there are a million thoughts running through my mind.

  Did all these people come here because they really thought I’d say yes?

  Or did they come for the fireworks of me saying no?

  Do they wish us well?

  Or hope to see us fail?

  I reach the stage and tentatively walk out on it. One of the band members hands me a microphone, and I know I really need to say something to all these people.

  I may die of embarrassment.

  Actually, I wish it were possible to die of embarrassment—then I could drop dead right now, and I wouldn’t have to do what I am about to do.

  Part of me wonders how in the world I got here to begin with.

  We have been friends for a really long time and only decided to have a real relationship all of a week ago.

  And, well, it has been really incredible.

  I mean, he is incredible in ways I hadn’t even imagined!

  Okay, so I might have imagined a little.

  Anyway, as of about six minutes ago, we were out on a romantic first date.

  Then he had to go and blow the whole thing all to hell by asking me to marry him.

  Can you believe that?

  Me neither.

  And, as if it isn’t unbelievable enough that he asked me to marry him on our first date, he was so damned sure I’d say yes, he planned this huge, surprise engagement party.

  Tonight. On our first date. Like, right now!

  I shudder and mentally prepare myself for what I am about to do.

  I have to tell everyone who came here tonight that there is no way I’m going to marry that boy!

  Before I say the words, I glance at him, and my mind is transported back to the memory of my first kiss.

  It’s where this all began, really.

  “Phillip was the first boy to ever kiss me. We were swinging sideways on the swings out behind school, when out of the blue, he reached over, grabbed my swing, and kissed me right on the lips. Then he jumped off his swing and ran home. It was one of those perfect sunny afternoons when school was almost out for the summer. I thought it was the best day of my life.

  I was in love.

  Phillip must have told someone what he did, because today at school everyone was singing.

  Phillip and JJ sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G . . .

  I couldn’t take it.

  I was being tortured.

  It’s the worstest day of my life!

  It was such a letdown because the day before was a GREAT day. I got my first kiss from a boy!

  I know it was just Phillip, but still, I was very surprised.

  And I was so excited to come to school, until I got there, and everyone started torturing me with those stupid, stupid songs. Even my friend, Lisa, was singing them.

  That traitor.

  And very quickly, I went from loving that boy to hating him.

  At least that’s what I had to tell all my friends, so they would stop singing those ridiculous songs.

  Phillip must have started a trend, because later that day, Joey kissed Katie and everyone forgot about Phillip and me.

  They had someone new to torture endlessly.

  I noticed that Phillip didn’t tease Joey and Katie.

  Neither did I.

  Phillip Mackenzie lives across the street from me. We have been friends forever.

  I mean it. Since birth.

  Our dads are fraternity brothers and best friends. Phillip is five months older than me, and our parents think it is just hilarious to show embarrassing photos of us together as babies.

  And we are naked!

  It's just so gross. I can’t even describe it! Phillip and I want to hide, and usually do, whenever they get out those stupid baby books.

  Our parents hope that Phillip and I will get married when we grow up. I totally laugh at that. I have told them so many times that I can’t marry Phillip, because I’m marrying a prince.

  I blame my obsession with wanting to marry a prince on Disney and Phillip’s sister, Ashley. Ever since I can remember, our parents have been getting together to play cards on Friday nights. We have pizza, which I love, and I get to play with Phillip. Unfortunately, that also means I have to play with Ashley. Ashley is four years older than Phillip and me and a pain in the rear. (I would say butt, except I’m not supposed to say that b word.)

  Speaking of b words, Ashley is very bossy. And she’s always played the Queen. Which means she gives me the choice of being either her servant or her daughter, and who in their right mind would sign up to be her servant?

  I told you how bossy she is. It would’ve been unbearable!

  So I’ve always played the princess.

  Important Things I have learned in my life so far:

  1. Always be the princess. Princesses have much more fun and not so much responsibility. Plus you get to marry the prince.

  2. Never be the queen. Queens are old and bossy and sometimes even evil. (Remember Snow White?) Queens think they are in charge of everything. Queens are responsible.

  3. Responsibility makes you crabby and no fun.

  4. When you have the choice, play with a boy. Boys are easy to get along with. They don’t care if your clothes match or if your hair is a mess. Boys don’t talk behind your back or make up stories about you to try to hurt your feelings. They are too busy playing sports or video games.

  5. Always trust your Daddy. Daddies are incredibly sm
art and handsome, and they always smell very good.

  6. Never kiss and tell. You will get tortured by people who you thought were your friends.

  7. Never, ever, ever trust Mary Beth Parker. Even if she says she is your best friend.

  Last week, Mary Beth Parker told me I could be her best friend. She got me to play with her on the playground and Lisa, who is my best friend, got mad at me. The very next day, Mary Beth Parker told everyone not to play with me.

  I didn’t do anything to her. That’s just how she is.

  She is very mean.

  Phillip was the only person who played with me. He didn’t care what that bossy girl said. He acted like a prince that day.

  I told him so and ever since, when it’s just us, he calls me Princess.

  And he’s the only person I’d let get away with it!

  Today is the worst day of my life.

  Really, it is!

  A new family has moved into our neighborhood, across the empty lot from my house, and across the street from Phillip’s house.

  This is most unfortunate.

  The parents seem like nice, decent people, but unfortunately they had to bring their stupid, stinky son with them. Why couldn’t they have forgotten to bring him with, or left him on the side of the road somewhere in Missouri? Maybe someone would’ve taken him home, like a lost kitty.

  That way he could’ve ruined someone else’s life.

  Phillip and I have so much fun playing together. We play lots of sports, games, and fun stuff that I make up. Usually, we play some version of the handsome prince coming to rescue the beautiful, royal princess. But it’s not like it’s all girly. Phillip gets to do some really cool boy stuff, like fighting a dragon with a sword, dueling with an evil warlock, climbing the tower. We even play Olympics and have all sorts of sports competitions.

  But since that nasty, smelly boy next door came here, Phillip acts like the only fun thing to do is to play with him. Phillip and I are both real good at sports. It’s not like I can’t keep up with him! Honestly, I’m bigger than he is and can actually beat him at almost everything, except for a flat-out running race—he is a bit faster than me.

  I’m always the first girl picked when we split into teams at school, but somehow this evil boy has convinced Phillip that he shouldn’t play with girls.

  Today, Phillip and I are minding our own business, playing in the empty lot between Danny’s house and mine.

  Did I mention his name?

  Danny. Danny Diamond.

  Devil Danny is more like it.

  I wonder if his parents know how truly awful he is?

  Poor people. They really should consider giving that boy up for adoption.

  Oh, I hate that boy!

  He makes me sooooo mad!!!

  Anyway, Phillip and I are playing a nice game of Four Squares, which all the boys at school like to play, when he comes walking over.

  He thinks he is so cool!

  The first day he moved here, he told me how he’s a great quarterback.

  I told him to stop bragging. It’s not nice.

  But he went, I’m not bragging. I’m just confident in my skills.

  Whatever.

  I figured the kids at school would hate him, because no one likes a bragger, right? Right?

  Wrong!

  Because of his bragging, his so called skills, and the way he looks, all the girls at school are in love with him. I mean, he does have nice blond hair that always looks like he just combed it, even when he’s out in the wind. And all the girls have been going on and on about his dreamy blue eyes and his cool attitude.

  Personally, I think they’re just bored with the boys we’ve grown up with and would like anyone new.

  Although I have to admit, the first time I saw him, I thought he was really cute too.

  But that was way before I knew him.

  He interrupts our game by saying, “Four Squares is a dumb girl game. Wanna play football, Phil?”

  It’s not Phil, you idiot! No one calls him that. It’s Phillip. I’m sure that my Prince Phillip will not let him talk about our game, or me, like that. So I wait for his reply.

  “Sounds fun,” Phillip says, “I’ll go grab a football.”

  And off he runs.

  No Bye, Princess.

  Nothing.

  Has Devil Danny used some kind of evil brainwashing on Phillip?

  Can he control people’s minds?

  Will he suck out Phillip’s soul?

  I am so mad that I could scream! But instead, I try to get along, so I say, “That’s okay, football sounds fun too.”

  Danny glares at me, like I’m a piece of poop that he just stepped in. “Girls can’t play football. Why don’t you go home and play with your dolls or something?”

  Well that was about all I could take from that boy.

  “Danny, you are a stupid, ugly, smelly boy.”

  I am so mad at him! But then something terrible happens. As I’m yelling at him, tears start coming out of my eyes. Why is that? I’m not sad. I’m boiling hot, furiously mad!

  MAD. MAD. MAD. MAD!

  I continue to yell at him anyway. “And I wish you would just go back to Missouri and die!”

  What I say doesn’t seem to upset him in any way. He just looks at me with disgust and says, “Girls are such crybabies.”

  I turn and run home.

  Fast.

  I slam the back door, run up the stairs, and slam the door to my room. I throw myself across my bed and cry. Then I move to my window seat so I can look out the window at those stupid boys playing football, while I cry.

  Why do I cry when I get mad?

  Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am just a crybaby.

  Maybe I will just give up and let him steal my best friend from me.

  No way.

  Never, I think, and dry my eyes on my shirt.

  Just then, Daddy walks in. I’m sure he heard the doors slamming and is coming to yell at me. He hates it when I slam doors.

  I try to hide my crybaby eyes from him.

  He looks at me, out the window at the boys, then sits down next to me, and wraps me in a great big hug.

  How come a boy can be so stupid, but a Daddy, who actually used to be a boy himself, can be so wonderful?

  “Three’s a crowd, huh?” he asks, nodding out toward the boys.

  And smart too!

  “Yeah,” I sniffle, “Danny says girls can’t play football. He said I should go play with my dolls. I don’t even play with dolls anymore.”

  At least not very often.

  “I was so mad at him, Daddy. I tried to tell him how mean and stupid I think he is, but then I started crying, so he called me a crybaby. I swear, Dad, I wasn’t sad, I was mad. I don’t know how he made me cry. It’s a big mystery to me! Plus, he’s trying to steal my bestest friend in the whole world.”

  “Well,” Daddy says, rubbing the stubbly stuff on his chin and thinking.

  I love it when he does that. He has the most brilliant ideas!

  “I know,” I say, interrupting him. “How ’bout you go over there and give him a good, old fashioned ass whooping?”

  Daddy laughs. He knows I have heard Grandpa say the same thing about me.

  “Please don’t use bad words like that, okay?”

  “Okay,” I reply sheepishly. “But I think it would be a very good idea.”

  “I don’t think I could do that, Angel.” He smiles, pauses, and strokes the stubbles some more. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t.”

  “You want me to go and beat up Danny?” I’m very surprised at that man.

  “No, you silly goose,” he says, ruffling my hair, “but you are very good at sports, and you especially love football. Teach him a lesson. Show him that girls can play anything they want. Beat him at his own game. I think it would be good for Danny to lose to a girl.”

  He gives me another big hug and walks toward my door.

  Then he turns around, grabs my doorway, and says,
“You know, it’s okay to have more than one best friend.”

  Well, his advice on boys might be good, but evidently he’s forgotten the Laws of Fifth Grade.

  You can only have one best friend.

  That’s okay though; his memory is probably going bad because he’s getting so old. He is thirty-eight after all.

  I hug my knees and watch the boys for a few more minutes, while I get my courage up. I’m gonna show that boy that anything boys can do, girls can do better.

  My friend Lisa likes to sing, Girls go to college, to get more knowledge. Boys go to Jupiter, to get more stupider.

  I don’t know where she comes up with these funny things, but I love it that she does. Usually they are so good!

  In this case though, Danny’s gonna get more knowledge. And I am about to school him. I get up and look in my mirror. Daddy always tells me I am beautiful, but I’m not sure I believe him. Isn’t it required that dads tell their daughters that? Anyway, all I see in the mirror staring back at me is a girl who is way too tall, way too skinny, has gross knobby knees, and some really stupid freckles on her nose.

  I look some more.

  Well, I suppose my blues eyes are okay, and I do actually like the color of my long blonde hair, but I just can’t see beautiful.

  Oh well. I’m going to teach that boy a lesson, and I should definitely look as much like a girl as I can, when I do it. So I take my hair out of its ponytail and brush it until it shines. Then I put on some Lip Smackers lip gloss. Lisa gave me this gloss.

  She says Glossing is as important as flossing. I think my dentist might disagree with that, but gloss does make your lips look kind of pretty.

  I run outside and walk right up to those stupid boys. I ignore Danny and say to Phillip, “I want to play football with you guys, okay?”

  Phillip shrugs his shoulders. “Sure, I’ll go out for a pass and you can guard me.”

  Danny steps between us and says to Phillip, “No way. She’ll just end up getting hurt and go bawling home.” He glares at me. “Girls aren’t tough enough to play football.”