“Any other objections?” he asked, grinning now.
“I-I don’t know. I’m not supposed to date until I’m sixteen,” I said, feeling lame.
Where had that come from? That quiet voice in my head talked to me at the most inopportune moments.
He just stared at me, his hands gently moving up and down my arms. It tickled and felt warm. He tilted his head to the side. I couldn’t get over the fact that a guy was touching me. I didn’t want it to stop.
“Okay. We won’t date until you’re sixteen, which is…,” he prompted.
“In May,” I said.
“May? That’s only a month down the road. Why sixteen?”
“I don’t know, it’s just when my parents allow me to date.”
“We’ll just hang out then.”
Was hanging out dating? I wasn’t sure. This all felt so good. No, great. I couldn’t think straight. He moved in close, and I noticed again how good he smelled. Spicy. I wanted to move in closer to him, but my stomach clenched and then filled with butterflies—so full, in fact, that I thought it might burst, but it felt amazing all the same.
He was cute, just like I’d told Kira. I’d also told her I wasn’t interested in him, which I wasn’t at the time. Was I now, or was I just responding to him liking me? Did it matter? I mean, a guy liked me. Shouldn’t I take advantage of that fact? I might never get this chance again.
He pulled in closer, and I let out a nervous laugh pulling back slightly. Then our eyes locked, and he got closer and closer until I had to close my eyes. His lips touched mine, warm and soft, and much to my surprise, I kissed him back.
That voice in my head screamed out, “Whaaat are you doing?”
When I pulled back, Rick’s eyes were still closed, I turned and panicked and then ran away.
“Christy!” I heard him call. I kept running, back to where he’d found me, back to where Josh and Summer were, but they weren’t there anymore. I ran toward M-Street and found them, standing under a street light, talking, surrounded by the rest of our group.
I could hear footsteps behind me, and so I walked as fast as I could to the safety of the group. I couldn’t face Rick right now. What had I done?
I bent over, trying to catch my breath. Alex stood there, and he looked at me and then past me. Rick slowed to a walk before he joined us. His eyes were set on me, questioning. Alex’s eyes narrowed as he watched.
Please, I thought, looking at Alex, please don’t let Alex think I like Rick. Yet at the same time, the softness of Rick’s kiss lingered on my lips, the pleasure of it surrounding me, urging me to turn to him and gather him in my arms and accept him.
I pulled myself together and using Kira’s trick, I wedged between her and Marybeth the whole way to the bus, locking my arms through theirs. I made sure I sat by the window and that Marybeth sat next to me, on the aisle. I was safe for the moment, left to feel guilty for my thoughts and actions. My parents would die if they knew.
“What’s up Christy?” Marybeth asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I kinda feel that way,” I whispered.
“Why? What happened?”
I debated whether or not I should tell Marybeth. Could I trust her not to tell anyone—including Kira? I had trusted her in the church. Maybe I could trust her now.
“Rick just kissed me.” I let the words burst out of my mouth in a small whisper. I left out the part about me kissing him.
“What?” She screamed it so loud that I cupped my hand over her mouth and immediately regretted my decision to tell her.
“Shhh! You can’t tell a soul. Swear to me Marybeth.” I looked around to find Kira. She sat several seats behind us, with Alex.
Marybeth grinned and looked at me wide-eyed.
“Swear, Marybeth!”
“I swear! Now tell me all about it. I knew he liked you. Kira will just freak out.”
“No, she won’t freak out, because she’ll never know, now will she?”
“Okay, no. I just can’t believe it. Tell me everything!”
I told her a shortened version and left out all feelings. I felt weird talking about them with her for some reason.
“Unbelievable, Christy. Unbelievable. You’re so lucky.”
I felt exposed and stupid and wished I hadn’t told her. For some reason, even the Whopper box dug itself out of the corner of my mind, and started harassing me too.
“You idiot,” it said. “You should have been more obvious. No one could’ve known what you were hinting at with your eyes. Even a trained FBI agent had no clue what you meant.”
The beating continued and I suffered once again for all my mistakes of this week. By the time the bus reached our hotel, which was only about fifteen minutes away, I was emotionally stretched, like a bug splattered on a windshield.
I dragged myself off the bus and into the lobby, thinking about the possible consequences of telling Marybeth about the kiss, when I was accosted by a conservation group handing out re-usable water bottles and encouraging everyone not to buy bottled water. I had lost Marybeth. She said she wouldn’t tell, I guessed I’d just have to believe her. I pushed my way through, trying to make the first elevator ride, and an equally pushy conservationist put a bottle into my hand and said, “Use this tonight and you’ll feel great in the morning.”
I took the bottle, giving him a pursed smile and got into the elevator with others from our tour group.
When I got to my room, I threw off my clothes, brushed my teeth and climbed into bed. Reaching up to turn my lamp off, I hit the stupid water bottle, knocking it to the floor. I grunted and turned the light out. I was holding back the tears when I started thinking, What if Marybeth doesn’t see my water bottle lying on the floor and trips over it, and breaks her neck? I turned the lamp back on. “You better leave me alone after this,” I shouted into thin air.
I snatched the bottle from the floor and noticed some paper in it. I shook it out of anger—to teach it a lesson somehow. I thought it was probably activist literature, until I saw the initials C.H. handwritten on one corner.
I unscrewed the cap as fast as I could and turned the bottle upside down. What had that activist said? “Use this tonight and you’ll feel great in the morning.”? My hands were shaking so badly, that I almost couldn’t unfold the note. It read:
Got it.
Relax.
You’re safe.
11:00
I slept well.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ping, five a.m. My internal alarm clock seemed to be working again. Back home, I could never sleep past five no matter what time I went to bed the night before. Sometimes it really irritated me, but most of the time, I loved the peace and quiet of my mornings. I got more done before breakfast than most people did before dinner.
I crept into the shower, trying not to disturb Marybeth. Completely ready for the day by six-thirty, I climbed out on our balcony, but was pushed back in by the rain. Uggh. Rain. I went to the bathroom and looked at my once perfectly straight hair and saw a frizzy mess. I pulled it up into a pony, all I could do on a rainy day. Marybeth would have to be okay with it today. My hair was hopeless.
I stared at myself, remembering Rick’s kiss. I had kissed someone before I was sixteen and I wasn’t even dating him, not that it really mattered if we were dating or not, but I had always wanted to please my parents and do what I should. I shivered, remembering how the kiss had tickled every inch of my body. They would never approve and a large part of me wanted to take it back, but I knew I couldn’t. Another part of me wanted to go back and kiss him again instead of running away. Really, I had failed myself by kissing Rick. I wanted to be better than this and now I couldn’t say, “Sweet sixteen and never been kissed.” Worse than that, I’d loved it. Who was I becoming? Summer? The thought made me shudder. I needed to figure out what I wanted, what I believed.
I couldn’t help but think about how good his lips had felt pressed on mine. Guilt swept over me again, making it see
m like a dark, ugly thing I’d done. It had been so exciting and felt great, so why did I have to feel so bad? The thought of Josh and Summer making out at Georgetown University popped into my mind. They certainly weren’t bothered by it. Why? Why were they so different from me? Was the guilt I felt a result of my own beliefs or my parent’s? It would be nice to talk to someone about it. I looked over at Marybeth, wondering if I could talk to her about it. Would she understand?
“Marybeth,” I said quietly. “It’s time to get up.” Lying on my bed, I waited patiently for her to get ready, finding it hard not to talk about Rick. I couldn’t hold it in any longer and I finally blurted out, “I shouldn’t have kissed Rick.”
She stopped straightening her hair and said, “Why not? He’s aaaamazing!”
“Yeah, but I’ve just always had this idea that I would be at least sixteen before I kissed anyone. You know, sweet–sixteen-and-never-been-kissed?”
“That’s just old fashioned, Christy. No one waits until they’re sixteen anymore. You shouldn’t worry about it.” She finished straightening her hair and held it out toward me. “Get over here. No ponytails allowed.”
“It will go crazy frizzy in ten seconds.”
“No ponytails allowed,” she insisted.
I shuffled my feet as I walked toward her and said, “My parents are really old-fashioned, though, and won’t understand.” I didn’t understand.
“Why would you have to tell them?” Each strand of hair she straightened glistened in the light.
“I don’t know. I guess I think they expected me to wait, and I can’t believe I let them down. They should know I didn’t follow their counsel.”
“Parents don’t always know what is best for us. You did what was right for you.”
“Did I?” She finished straightening my hair and grabbed a spray bottle.
“You make me laugh. You over analyze everything. The kiss happened. You can’t take it back and it was wonderful. Enjoy the moment, girl.” She sprayed a mist of whatever was in the spray bottle all over my hair.
That was the real problem. I couldn’t take it back. I would never be virgin lips again. I felt a deep chill in my heart, but only for a second. My perfectly straight hair shined. I wished I felt that way inside.
“For once in your life, have fun. Pure and total fun—with no worries.”
“I’ll try,” I said, but felt like it would be impossible. “It’s still our secret, right?”
“Right. That spray should hold any frizz at bay.”
I stuffed a pony in my pocket just in case. We walked to breakfast together, a knot sitting in my throat.
When we walked into the breakfast room, I saw Kira chatting with Rick as she ate. Rick didn’t look like himself. His short brown hair looked mussed up, like he hadn’t bothered to do it today. His almost permanent smile, was nowhere in sight and he looked tired, his back slumped slightly over.
Marybeth and I had timed it just right. There weren’t any seats left at our usual table. I dared a glance at Alex, wishing he hadn’t sat at the same table as Rick, and walked past to another table. I felt bad, and I knew I would have to face Rick sooner or later, but at the moment, I wanted it to be later.
I scarfed down my food without tasting a thing and dragged Marybeth, bagel in hand, with me to the bus. I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t end up with an empty seat next to me. We were the first ones there. Whew!
“Dang, Christy,” Marybeth said. “Why were you in such a big hurry just to sit and wait for everyone else to get on the bus?”
“I don’t know,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t press the issue.
“You’re so weird sometimes,” she said, shaking her head as she looked at me.
“Sorry,” I said, motioning to her bagel. “I owe you one.” I figured she wasn’t the type to ever need a favor, so owing her wouldn’t really mean anything, but her response made me wonder if I’d been mistaken.
“Yes, you do, Christy Hadden. Yes, you do. Now out with it. What’s up?”
“I just can’t face Rick right now,” I said. “I feel so stupid.”
“Didn’t we just clear this up, upstairs?”
“Marybeth, I ran from him.”
“So what?”
“I’m totally retarded.”
“No you’re not. No more pity party! One of the most incredible guys here kissed you. No one has tried to kiss me. So give it a rest. You were lucky to have him want to kiss you. Think of Kira. She’s hot on his tail. Don’t blow it.” I decided not to tell her about the conversation I’d overheard between Kira and Rick.
Rick finally ambled onto the bus, one of the last ones to get on, head hanging, no light in his eyes as he looked at me. I had to look away to ease the pain welling up in my heart. His unhappiness was becoming my unhappiness. I’d have to take care of this tonight, whether I wanted to or not.
“Don’t look away from him, Christy,” Marybeth whispered. “Go over and sit by him. Just talk to him. It’ll all be okay. Oh, he’s so sad. Look at him. You’ve got to go talk to him.”
I pushed myself against the window and said, “No way! I’m not ready. I don’t know what to say.” My brain worked overtime trying to find a solution, trying to find a way to put an end to my guilt and to Rick’s unhappiness without deceit or looking like the idiot loser I felt like. It seemed brains couldn’t help problems with the heart. At a loss, instead of continuing to think about it, I focused on the note from the FBI. At eleven, something would happen and I wondered what it would be. I tried to convince myself that it wouldn’t involve a toilet or drugs, but I couldn’t be absolutely sure.
My thoughts kept getting all muddled up with the kiss by the fountain, the note from the FBI and what I should say to Rick. When leaving the bus, I turned to look at Rick and he was looking at me. My stomach churned. He didn’t smile. He just looked at me for a second longer and then turned his head and looked out the window. I hurried off the bus.
The buildings that housed the offices of the senators and some of their staff weren’t typical, ugly government buildings. They looked more like stately mansions. I had always imagined that senators and congressmen had offices right in the Capitol building, but they didn’t. These buildings stood next to it and were connected to the Capitol by underground tunnels. How exciting would it be to explore those tunnels? Would we get the chance?
I dreaded the day shadowing an intern. Following someone around all day, watching them work, seemed ultra-boring. I hoped that whatever happened at eleven would excuse me from the rest of the day with my intern.
I couldn’t have imagined having a worse intern. He had a pinched face, light blonde hair and muddy brown eyes. He never spoke to or acknowledged me. I learned quickly to keep a safe distance from him; in a half an hour he had already backed up into me three times and my toes ached. I had to stay so far back or to the side of him, that I couldn’t even hear what he said to people. It was going to be a very long two hours with him, so I started watching everyone else and ignoring what he did. Time passed quickly once I did. With everything so new and interesting, I couldn’t help but soak it all in.
Amazed at the amount of work that needed to be done for a senator, I focused on the most interesting. The mass of cubicles buzzed with telephone calls, conversations, research, flying papers, and note taking. It was a bit chaotic in my mind, and I wanted to set it in order. Shocked at some of the inefficiencies, I wanted to fix them, but knew I couldn’t.
Before I realized it, eleven o’clock rolled around. My heart skipped a beat as I wondered what crazy thing was about to happen. Nothing did. Fifteen minutes later, I started to wonder if the note had meant eleven at night, when a man came and shuttled my intern away. Before he left, he introduced me to Ryan, a bulky, handsome man, whose dark eyes were lightly framed by almost invisible glasses.
Ryan appeared to be just like the FBI men on TV. But, was he FBI? I decided he couldn’t be when he told me what I would be doing. He took me into a room made of glass th
at looked out on everything going on in the large room surrounding it. Ryan had me start researching immigration and taking “brief, concise” notes on what I found on one of the computers that lined the glass walls. I sighed and resigned myself to the fact that the note from the FBI must have meant eleven p.m. Ryan couldn’t be FBI. Bummer.
He sat at one of the four computers in the room and worked furiously. If it weren’t for the fact that the room was made out of glass, I would have felt trapped in a small claustrophobic box.
The good thing about working with Ryan was that I loved to research. At first, however, all I could think about was my kiss with Rick and what I could possibly say to such a good guy. Why wasn’t there the same spark with him that I always felt for Alex? When I forced myself to look at the computer screen, though, I immediately immersed myself in another world. Buzzing through my third website, Ryan asked to see my work. I handed him my notes, and he read for several minutes.
“Wow, this is great work,” he said, handing them back to me with a smile.
That, I already knew, but it was nice to have it verified from someone “in the know.” I glanced at my stack of papers and saw someone else’s handwriting. I reached for it and started to hand it back to Ryan saying, “I think you. . .,” when I noticed it was meant for me. A note from the FBI. He was FBI after all.
The note said that I had to pretend to keep researching, but instead of taking notes, I needed to answer the questions on the papers he’d given me. I pretended to read the monitor and take notes, when I was really just answering his written questions. My heart pounded and it was hard not to act suspicious in that room. Anyone could have walked by our glass enclosure and seen what we were doing if they’d only wanted to. I had to work hard not to freak out. A bit sad to think that I wouldn’t be talking to Jeremy, all the pain and fear I’d released with my bawling session the night before, stared me in the face once again.
Watched (The Watched Series) Page 14