“Which question?” Marianne was pretty sure that her stalling wasn’t fooling anyone, but what the heck else was she supposed to do? He still hadn’t said exactly why he wanted to go out with her. She was afraid, plain and simple.
He just crossed his arms and frowned again. Waiting. Not buying her confusion for a second.
Marianne blushed. She moved her hair out of her eyes. She shifted her feet on the mat in front of the sink. She came up with the following plan: Agree to go out with him. But do it reluctantly, so as to have an out, if needed. Her one last measure of protection. Marianne didn’t possess a whole lot of self-respect to begin with, and she wasn’t prepared to bet it all on the fact that Patrick was finally telling the truth about his motives. She nodded the tiniest of nods.
“What?” He squinted, leaning toward her. “Was that an answer?”
“Mary?” said Mom, suddenly appearing at the kitchen door. “What’s wrong?”
Dad stepped up behind her, taking in the scene in which Patrick was leaning over his blushing, watery-eyed daughter. “Oh, I think she’s all right,” said Dad, smiling. He turned and extended his hand. “Patrick! I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m James; this is my wife, Sophie.”
Patrick shook his hand, comfortable as could be. “Nice to meet you, sir.” He nodded at Mom. “I was just in the middle of asking out your daughter again.” He glanced over at Marianne. “I think she was trying to answer me, but it’s hard to tell with her.”
Did he really just insult that man’s daughter to his face? Marianne opened her mouth to stop Dad from defending her or kicking him out, but there was no need. Dad just snorted and smiled benignly.
At least Mom looked outraged. She was glaring at Patrick, but then, suddenly, she turned and directed it at Marianne. “Again?” she said. “Mary, what is wrong with you?”
Marianne gaped. “What?”
“Well, go ahead, sweetie,” said Dad, still smiling his annoying smile. “You should give the boy an answer.” He almost laughed again. “You’re being rude.”
Humiliation. Murderous anger. More humiliation. Marianne lifted her chin, looked straight at all three of them, and said, “No.” There was no way she was going to agree now.
“No?” said Mom and Dad together.
“Honey,” Mom whispered to her, tilting her head to indicate Patrick. “Have you looked at him?”
Dad cleared his throat. “Well, that’s neither here nor there.”
Patrick was looking distinctly uncomfortable at this point.
Mom put her hands on her hips, still glaring. “Why won’t you go with him?”
“B—because,” sputtered Marianne, finding her voice at last. “No! This is none of your business. And anyway, Patrick’s not serious; he’s just joking with you.” Everyone looked at Patrick.
He lifted his hands. “I don’t know where she got that idea. I’m not joking.”
Now everyone looked back at Marianne. “Well… Maybe he wasn’t joking, exactly. But,” she blew out a breath, “but he doesn’t really mean it.”
Dad lifted his eyebrows above his glasses. “He’s lying?”
“No!” Marianne looked to Patrick for help before she remembered that she would get none there. She let out a little moan of frustration. “It’s just that he feels bad for me, and he’s trying to be nice.”
Dad looked politely puzzled by this information and turned to Patrick. “Why don’t you like her?” he asked. “Is there something wrong with my daughter?”
Oh. My. Word.
“I do like your daughter,” replied Patrick, just as politely. “And there’s nothing at all wrong with her, except maybe a freakish level of modesty, I think.”
Marianne’s cheeks burned hotter.
“Ah. I see,” said Dad. “Mary, at this time, I would recommend that you stop being freakishly modest and give your answer.”
“And it had better be a yes,” Mom stage-whispered. “Have you seen him?”
Patrick covered a laugh and looked at Marianne. He shook his head, smiling, and then winked at her.
Unbelievable. But you know, she could play the polite and insolent game, too. She stopped glaring abruptly and smiled instead. “Well, in that case, I’d better do it,” she said in a falsely sweet voice. “Sure, I’ll go out with you, Patrick, since you’re so good-looking and all. I’d love to.” She gave her cutest shrug and just smiled.
Patrick blinked.
Mom rolled her eyes.
“Uh oh,” mumbled Dad. He took off his glasses and started to clean them on his shirt.
“What, Dad?” said Marianne, tilting her head. “Is something wrong?”
He didn’t look up.
Mom tisked at him, then looked back to Marianne with a satisfied look on her face. “I, for one, am thrilled you’ve finally seen sense.”
“Well,” said Marianne, gesturing towards her, “you are always right, after all..”
“Thank you,” said Mom in a gooey way, clasping her hands in front of her.
“You’re welcome.”
Dad sighed, giving his wife a look. “If you want to go out with him, Mary, that’s fine. If not, well…”
“Well what?”
“Then you don’t have to, of course.”
“Oh, no.” Marianne shook her head. “You guys were right before. I shouldn’t trust myself to make up my own mind.” She turned her attention toward Patrick. “It’s better if people pressure and humiliate me into decisions.” She gave him a nod. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Patrick almost grinned. Almost. Then he put on a politely pleasant expression and said, “Sometimes that’s best.”
Dad cleared his throat. “All right, you three,” he said wearily, glancing between Patrick and Mom. “We shouldn’t have teased her. It’s up to you, Mary.”
“I didn’t say anything,” said Marianne innocently. She turned her wounded look on Patrick. “A little defensive, isn’t he?”
“Maybe,” said Patrick, glancing over at Dad and back again. “Or maybe he’s just afraid of the temper tantrum he sees coming.”
Mom snorted.
Dad smiled at the floor, trying to hide it.
“I see,” said Marianne, glaring at Patrick. “Then you think I’d be out of line to be offended, do you?”
“Not at all,” he said in a disgustingly breezy type of way. “I only meant to compliment you. That level of drama takes skill.”
Marianne narrowed her eyes, trying to ignore the positively gleeful look Mom was giving Patrick just then. She slapped her smile back in place. Fine; she could do this all day. “Wow. That means so much coming from you. Are we ready to get going?”
“Certainly.”
“You know,” she said, suddenly inspired. “Instead of going out on our own, we should just meet up with those friends you canceled on, earlier.” Take that, Patrick. No way would he embarrass himself by showing up somewhere with Marianne in this mood. He’d have to back down, now.
Patrick did not respond as expected. In fact, he almost laughed at her. “That sounds lovely.” He stepped to the side, allowing her to precede him out of the kitchen.
Marianne saw Mom and Dad smile at each other as she walked toward the door, but she ignored them. Marianne stopped when she came even with Patrick, turning and looking up into his face. “Your friends are going to love me.”
He smiled back. “I have no doubt.”
10
Telepathetic
Marianne changed her clothes quickly, hid the bag of Goth paraphernalia in the back of the linen closet till she could dispose of it properly, and then met Patrick out front.
Patrick drove to the outdoor mall in Orange and pulled into a spot in the crowded parking lot. “If you think you can stand being near merchandise and not using your dad’s credit card, you can go ahead and leave your purse. I wouldn’t want you to get tired carrying it around.”
“Oh, will you be paying for the movie?” asked Marianne. “I didn’t really
take you for the gentlemanly type.”
He smiled and shook his finger at her. “Silly girl,” he laughed falsely. “You know you just want to reapply your makeup at hourly intervals.”
Stupid mind reader; that one was actually true. Marianne threw her purse on the floor and got out. They walked through the open mall toward the theater. As they passed by the indoor skatepark, however, a whole table of boys looked up, yelled, and then all started talking to them at once. They didn’t even say hello.
“Frick, dude, what took you so long?”
“Yeah, we’ve been dying in this heat.”
“No dude, that’s just you because your pants are so tight.”
“Dude, Patrick, did I leave my new board in your truck?”
“These aren’t the tight pair. I can’t even skate in the other ones.”
“No duh. That’s why guys shouldn’t buy girl jeans.”
“Hey, Patrick, my friend. I need to borrow five bucks.”
Patrick laughed and handed some money to Husky-Hispanic-guy. “I only have a twenty, Hector.”
Hector hissed in a breath and shook his head as he took it. “It’s going to take four times as long to pay back.”
“Since when do you pay me back?” Patrick pocketed his wallet again.
Bearded-white-guy caught Patrick’s eye and nodded toward Marianne.
Patrick put his hand on Marianne’s elbow and pulled her forward to stand next to him. “This is Marianne, the reason I wasn’t going to come.” He pretended to lower his voice. “She’s really demanding and insisted that I take her out tonight.”
Everyone nodded at her, not seeming the least concerned that Patrick was insulting his date in public. Boys are so stupid. Patrick gestured toward Beard-guy. “Marianne, this is Christian.”
“Hi, Marianne.” Christian shook her hand. He was a white guy, tatted up as much as Patrick, with a light brown beard and shaggy hair. His eyes were a bit downturned; he’d probably look sad no matter his mood.
“And this is Ivan.” Patrick pointed toward the good looking, well-dressed Asian guy.
“Greetings,” said Ivan, without getting up.
“That’s Sammy-” Patrick pointed out a pale, shrimpy little guy who reminded Marianne of Dark Lord Alvin. “And Hector.” The Hispanic dude. They waved lazily at her, and she waved back.
Christian-the-beard grabbed his stuff off the table. “Well, since we’re too late to skate,” he said, “why don’t we all go do something else?”
Patrick shook his head. “Nah. Marianne doesn’t want to hang out with you losers.”
“I don’t?” she said, watching his face carefully. Did he really want to be alone with her, or was there another reason to back out? She smiled up at him. “You’re not ashamed of me, surely?”
“Oh, sweetie,” he said, brushing her face with his finger. “I would never say anything so rude.” Marianne’s leg twitched with the urge to kick him in the shin, and he seemed to see it. He covered a laugh. “We can join them if you like, though. I wouldn’t want to rob you of the chance to mope all night because I’d ruined our date.”
Marianne sighed. “You’re so considerate.”
They followed the motley group of boys over to the restaurant slash arcade at the corner of the shopping center. The interior of the restaurant was all dark wood and dim lighting, like a bar. Patrick talked to the hostess, and she led them over to a sunken area with a pool table surrounded by tall tables and stools. The waitress took their drink orders, and then it was time to play. Patrick split the teams: Ivan-the-model, Marianne, and Hector-the-husky versus Sammy-the-shrimp, Patrick, and Christian-the-beard.
Ivan chose a cue and stood chalking it while he regarded the table. He looked up at Patrick and said off-handedly, “A date, huh?” He took his shot. “It’s been so long that I was sure you’d lost your mojo.”
Sammy-the-shrimp said, “No, that’s you, Ivan.” Then he took his turn, failing to pocket the six.
Ivan gave him a dirty look. “I’m not the one who wears girl pants. Patrick, explain to him about girl pants.”
Marianne leaned over the table and aimed at a random striped ball. “Yes, please, Patrick,” she said, shooting half-heartedly. With her level of skill, trying harder would have made no difference. “Share with all of us your incredible fashion secrets. I’m on pins and needles.” That one earned her at least two snickers from the crowd.
“Don’t mind her,” said Patrick, stepping up to take his turn. He aimed, sunk a green ball, and stood up. “She’s just jealous because she’s looking rather haggish tonight.”
Marianne felt her face turn to stone. Don’t react. Take a sip of iced tea.
Hector-the-husky looked from Patrick to Marianne and back again. And again. “What?” he said, mildly perplexed.
Patrick gave Marianne a crooked smile and missed his next shot.
When Hector got into position to try for the ten, Marianne saw Christian-the-beard cringe. She gave him a questioning look, and he shook his head sadly. “He’s going to miss that one,” he said. “I warned him before we started playing, but he never listens.”
Hector took the shot, missed, gave Christian the finger, and went to sit down at a table. Christian laughed and went to take his turn.
“You knew he would miss the ten?” asked Marianne.
“Yeah.” Christian sank a solid ball. “I’m a little psychic.”
Ivan, Sammy, and Hector groaned. Marianne stepped a little closer to the table. “You’re a little what now?”
Patrick shook his head. “Christian’s a bit more sensitive than the rest of us.”
“It’s true,” said Sammy. “He’s the weenie of the group.”
Christian stepped back after missing and spoke pointedly to Marianne and no one else. “I know how it sounds,” he said. “I don’t really talk about it because people will think I’m weird, or whatever.”
“Yeah?” said Ivan, getting into position. “Then why are you telling her?”
Marianne’s thoughts exactly. “I think it’s neat,” she said anyway. “Anything interesting you can share about Patrick?”
“Make it embarrassing,” said Ivan.
Christian leaned on his cue and stared at Patrick. “His aura today is the same as always, maybe a bit brighter.”
Patrick rolled his eyes. Sammy and Hector broke into giggles. Ivan clapped Christian on the back. Marianne looked to Patrick for an explanation. “Pink,” said Patrick. “Bubble gum pink.”
“Ha!” said Marianne, giving Ivan a high five. “Do me, Christian. What color am I?”
“Come on, you guys,” whined Christian. “There’s nothing wrong with pink; it’s a very strong color. It shows that he’s artistic, tender—”
“Oh gross, stop,” said Ivan. “We’ve heard it, and we don’t want to hurl again.”
“—means he’s affectionate and—”
“Whoa, whoa,” said Hector. “We said that’s enough.”
“—loving—”
Sammy’s head collided with the tabletop. “Please! No more!”
“—it could indicate a budding romance—”
“Okay,” said Patrick. “The rest is bad enough; just leave her out of it.”
“—sensuality—”
“I changed my mind,” said Marianne. “I don’t want you to read my aura.”
Christian finally stopped listing off gooey attributes and crossed his arms. “You guys are so immature.”
Sammy missed the pocket by about nine inches, and then it was Marianne’s turn again. There were no good shots for her team, so she just picked an impossible one at random and leaned over the table. Patrick sucked in a breath through his teeth, insulting her choice. Marianne lifted her head. “What’s wrong?” she asked hurriedly. “Do you have a special affection for this ball? If you’re feeling tender about it, I can hit another one.”
Patrick gave a light, fake laugh. “Actually, I was just thinking how cute it is that you think you can make that s
hot.”
“Ooh!” yelled a two or three of the guys. “School him, Marianne!” said Ivan.
Marianne walked around the table a few times, rechecking the setup. Aha. She glanced back over her shoulder at the peanut gallery, winked, and leaned down. She aimed carefully, took a deep breath, and barely tapped the ball so it came to rest inside a whole mess of solid balls, making them non-shots for Patrick.
“Booya!” shouted Ivan, walking over and slinging his arm around Marianne’s shoulder. He leaned his face in close to hers. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
Marianne laughed and then laughed harder at the look on Patrick’s face. He rolled his eyes when he saw that he’d been caught breaking character and then set up for his impossible shot. Just as he was swinging the cue forward to hit the ball to who-knows-where, a little blond chick bounced up behind him and started tickling him in the ribs.
Marianne stiffened.
Ivan groaned.
Patrick twitched and spun around, sending the eight ball flying clear off the table.
11
Pwned in perpetuum
“What the heck?” said the girl, resting one of her claws on Patrick’s forearm. “I told you guys to call us if you came down here today.”
Vanessa Vargas. Yearbook editor. ASB officer. Algebra II answer-stealer. Oh yeah, Marianne knew her all right. She didn’t know any of the other girls that filed in around the table a second later, but she knew their type. If it wouldn’t have been ridiculously melodramatic, she’d have fled the restaurant right then. She decided just to slink back to her chair instead.
Christian shrugged. “Sorry, Vanessa. We got here late.”
Patrick stepped away from Vanessa to pick up the wayward eight ball and then started cleaning everything up.
“That’s okay.” Vanessa leaned her hip on the table. “We were just at Hot Topic, and I saw this totally sweet Duke Nukem sticker I want to show Patrick.” She said Patrick’s name funny; the syllables too distinct for Marianne’s taste. “For his next skateboard, you know. With his track record, he’s about due to break this one anytime.” She laughed and rolled her eyes. “OMG!” she said, looking directly at Marianne.
Marianne Page 10