The kitchen counter is covered in the remnants of her bake off. Canisters of flour, cracked eggshells, and spilled cocoa litter the marble, but right in the center, is a tray of cooling marshmallow brownies.
“Hi, Mrs. Phillips, have I told you lately how much I love you?” Tiff zeros in.
“Perfect timing, girls.” Kelly grabs a second plate and beams at the idea of having another mouth to feed. We’ve made her day.
Tiff is on her second brownie when my day takes a wrong turn. A do-not-collect-two-hundred-dollars, go-directly-to-jail kind of turn.
Putting down her coffee mug, the woman that I’d give anything to show the yearbook speaks, “Did you like the cinnamon rolls, Tiff?”
Fudge me with a serving of crabapples on the side.
“What cinnamon rolls?”
THINK!
I get eyed from two angles. “Oh, I forgot. Yeah, I saw a homeless man on my way, um, to the library …” I give Tiff the go-along-with-me eye as discreetly as I can. “Felt so guilty.” Bit like I do now, I think, trying not to grimace. “I bet he enjoyed them though.” I smile, but my face feels as though I forgot to remove last night’s mud mask.
Tiff is a fixer even when I don’t deserve her to be. “Oh, that guy. Yeah, so sad. He hangs around a bit, but I heard Principle Skenner say he’s got to go.”
Kelly then asks the appropriate questions that fit the sad tale, and Tiff soldiers on lying on my behalf.
I’m going to have to start keeping notes on who I have told what exactly and when. Alice was right about falling down the rabbit hole.
6.
Fedora
Tuesday afternoon, Rocks is swinging on the porch when I get home. It’s a black leather vest day befitting his Camazotz side. I wonder how similar to me Rocks would be if it wasn’t for the spell. I notice his Camazotz senses in action. The way he’ll turn his head to the side a little when he’s listening to frequencies I cannot hear, how often he takes a deep breath scanning the air for information. Subtle differences that mark him as not just a boy.
“Where’s Mini?”
“She’s going to out us to my folks. I’ve left her at daycare till four thirty.”
Rocks frowns. “No, you can’t do that. I won’t be responsible for her spending time away from you. I’ll leave. Go pick her up.” He’s standing. What? The last four days without him passed slower than public transport in the South. I need my Rocks fix.
“She’s fine. Really. She keeps saying your name, and Kelly thinks I’ve got her outside in the dirt every second.” Please don’t go.
We argue back and forth as we walk in the door, up the stairs to my room, back down to the kitchen—where he eats three cupcakes that have been decorated to Master Chef standard—and back to my room.
Rocks wins.
Saying no and meaning it when he looks down at me with that smile is harder than I ever imagined.
We’re now in my car heading to collect Mini, and he’s happy again. He didn’t leave, so I’m happy. And I know Mini will be ecstatic when Rocks walks in to collect her.
The looks Rocks and I get when we enter the daycare center make me want to smack my forehead against the front doors. His six-foot-four frame looms over everyone and everything since it’s designed for tiny, little people. His goth presence and black clothing are a wicked contrast against the pastels and teddy bears.
Mini spies us through the glass window near the office. Her tiny voice echoes through chanting his name. Rocks can’t get to her fast enough and goes to collect her while I sign the checkout book.
“A new friend, Connie?” Mrs. Papadopoulos asks, with a knowing smile. I did not think this idea through. My palms begin to sweat.
“Yeah, he’s a friend from, uh, work.” Lie number one hundred and ninety-three.
Mini is singing her version of “Twinkle Twinkle”—which if you don’t know that’s what she’s singing, you’d never guess because it consists of ‘tar’ and ‘winkle’ said at random. She’s happy as a lark and her grin matches the smile spread across Rocks’ face. Not wanting to tell any more lies, especially in front of him, I grab him by the sleeve the second he’s next to me and pull them both out the door.
On the way to the car, he’s frowning again. “What?” So much is unknown to him about my world, but I can’t work out what modern problem has him perplexed this time.
“She hasn’t been changed.” The glares he gives the daycare center would melt metal. The group of drooling moms don’t even notice. “I don’t like that place. They should talk less and care more.”
There is a tightening sensation in my chest. Mini has her own champion. I never would’ve listed maturity as a trait I’d find attractive in a guy. Seeing it in action though makes the boys at school look even more stupid. These moms will gossip about the leather, the vest, and those gigantic biker boots for days. I must talk to my legal guardians before this gets reported back to them.
Back in my bedroom, after watching him devour another cupcake, I hand him a bunch of printouts. Rocks quietly reads while I wait for the family laptop to fire up. Rocks has been patiently waiting to get his hands on a computer and learn about the power of the Internet. It will be the first time he’s ever touched one and that’s a concept that I just don’t understand. How could the colony survive without these? When I ask, he frowns and shakes his head.
“Don’t get me started.” He sighs and returns to reading. “Where did you get this stuff?” His eyes are dancing with an emotion I can’t name. It might be excitement. To think I’ve done something to help him makes me giddy.
Google didn’t have much information on Camazotz legends, but what I found was interesting. The Zapotec Indians were the people who worshipped the Bat God. Their ancient civilization dates back to anywhere between 700-200BC. The half bat, half man was a deity they worshipped and revered. Centuries later, the Mayan people adopted the same God, but he was seen as a vampiric, winged demon of darkness and blood sacrifice. He was accused of committing genocide on the Mayans.
“This explains so much.” Rocks shakes his head, then begins to massage his temples. “How is it possible you know more about me than I do?” he asks, nodding at the printouts as a smile creeps across his features.
“Welcome to the power of the world wide web.” I bask in the warm and fuzzies from finally having helped him find a piece of his puzzle.
“This is huge, Connie.” He grins. “One of our colonies clearly believes the Mayan side while the other two lean toward the Zapotec. One thinks we’re cursed; the others feel blessed and now I understand why.” His joy is contagious. He scoops Mini up off the floor and kisses her forehead before taking a seat by my side in front of the laptop. “Thank you. You found what your mom looks like and now I’ve found this. We’re getting there, you and me. We’re starting to find out who we are—together.”
I feel so happy I could die.
“Hey, I forgot to tell you that I emailed that blogger who said she played softball with Josie in high school. I haven’t heard back yet.”
With Mini parked on his lap, I explain search engines, websites, email and have just started on social media when my phone chimes.
Rocks scrutinizes my every move. I remind myself he just wants to learn about the modern world, but I’m becoming addicted to his eyes on me, particularly when he’s this excited.
“A text from Tiff.” Opening it, I show him the screen.
“Congratulations.” He smiles.
She confirmed I got the job. The Bun Lovin’ Barn will have a new team member every Friday and Saturday night starting this week. I hit reply.
“I’ll walk you home safely each night.”
I love my new job.
“You’ll meet me after work?”
“Every shift. Nights are good for me.” He winks. The bat side of Rocks prefers the dark. His human eyes, ears, and nose are all more sensitive, and he feels more at ease after sundown. My job is the best thing that ever happened to me—guarantee
d Rocks time.
My phone chimes a second later. Tiff is already making plans for better ways to lure hot guys to the van. According to her, I’m supposed to wear more eyeliner on Friday—her latest theory.
“Tiff again?” Rocks is astonished.
“Yeah, I replied and now she has.”
He’s awed by the speed of modern communication. He’s used to snail mail and sending messages by wing. Once a month, Rocks and one of his colony elders venture into the town near their market to collect their postal orders. They aren’t allowed to shop at the mall but have suppliers that will ship them the raw materials they need. “You should totally get online. Internet shopping will change your life.”
Photo booth is my next gift. His level of awe at what the Mac can do rises exponentially. Mini got bored with computer lessons and is trying to coax Feathers out of her hiding hole in the corner of my room.
The tiny camera on the laptop means we need to move closer together to fit on screen. And I won’t deny that my heart rate spiked when Rocks put his arm around my back. We snap shot after shot of silly photos. The sound of Rocks laughing—something he doesn’t do often—fills me with a sensation similar to dentist happy gas. I suddenly don’t have a care in the world, and I can’t feel my lips from smiling so hard.
After twenty minutes, he’s selected his favorites. A set of four pictures—us with alien heads, us with bug eyes, a sepia shot of me looking at him while he’s laughing hysterically, and one of the two of us smiling. The photos show what a stark contrast we are together. He’s midnight against my golden sunny morning. We are day and night—the sun and the moon.
I’m drunk on my own laughter, but I quickly sober up when two fingertips slowly run up the length of my spine.
“Thank you again.” His breath tickles my neck. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this good.”
When his fingers reach the top of my spine, he folds them over and lightly drags the backs of them all the way down again. My heart is beating out a Morse code message. I’m sure it reads something along the lines of ‘Tiff, what do your books say to do with hot guys and lingering fingers?’
I want to be calm and nonchalant, but instead I freeze. I can sense his eyes watching me, but I don’t trust myself to risk a glance. I stare straight ahead at the screen and pretend to do more clicking for the print job.
“You’re not breathing.”
I let out the air that’s been trapped in my lungs and escape to my desk. Distance is good. Distance lets my internal organs function. Heart palpitations cannot be a good sign in someone my age.
Rocks sits and watches me for another moment. I want to be inside his head more than anything. He returns ever so quietly to his spot on the wingback, and I breathe normally once more. I can’t think about romance and Rocks. He’s a vampire bat, and those Goth Camazotz girls are way out of my league. I just can’t.
“I need to tell my parents about you, and I’m pretty sure they’ll want an introduction. That cool?” My voice sounds off to my own ears.
“I’d be honored to meet your parents. Just tell me when.”
Does nothing affect him? I wonder as I study his body language. “Aren’t you nervous? I’m nervous for crying out loud.”
“Of course, but if it means getting to walk in the front door.” He shrugs like it’s obvious. His sincerity hurts me sometimes. “Why are you nervous?”
“I’ve, um, never invited a boy home before. She’s going to go nuts.” I roll my eyes just thinking about how Kelly will react to this news.
“I’ll be your first?” He’s grinning.
Ears, if you are listening and I know you are listening because you are ears—do NOT blush. Please, I beg you not to turn red.
The traitors burn. I walk to the window and push it all the way up.
“Go. Get. Hit the air, bat boy!”
“Hmm, I like being your first.”
His laughter fills my room and then he’s gone.
* * * * *
All through dinner I practice different ways of mentioning Rocks. When Kelly gets to daycare tomorrow, the bat will be out of the bag. The plates get cleared. Chad says a polite “no thank you” to the offer of pecan pie. My stomach churns.
“Where did all the cupcakes go?” It’s not that Kelly minds what I eat, more that she loves to know who she’s feeding and what they thought of her creations.
No time like the present. “Oh, um, I got the job at the hotdog stand.” I look from one to the other.
A hint of a grimace passes over Dad V2.0’s face before he regains his composure. He doesn’t say anything. I imagine old overprotective habits die a slow death where I’m concerned.
“Oh, sweetheart, that’s great news. I knew they’d love you. Congratulations.” She’s looking at the cupcake container again.
Breathe.
“So there’s this guy who …” All the time I spent thinking about this and I don’t even have a good lie, I mean, explanation. I swallow. “Well, he helps us lock up. Like security, sort of. Anyhow, he’s promised to make sure I get home safe each night, and he poppedaroundtoday and loves your cupcakes.”
“What was that last bit, sweetheart?”
“Who’s this guy?” he asks.
It’s an intensive sixteen-minute grilling. I feel slightly charred but alive. Rocks will come for dinner on Thursday night. Chad will give him the third degree and make sure he really is nothing more than just a friend—like I told him at least twice every minute of the grilling. The bake queen is floating across the kitchen with my pie and a dreamy look in her eye. Kill. Me. Now.
* * * * *
English is my last class on Thursdays. Dragging back her chair, Tiff takes a seat eyeing me. She’s been trying to corner me all week, and I can’t put this chat off any longer. Parker Reed enters and stares in a way that makes me sure he’s got X-ray vision. He never looks away the whole time he walks toward me until he passes. Tiff missed it. Thank God.
“Are we good?” She has proof of my lying game. Knowing Tiff, the other afternoon was probably not the first time she’s suspected me, but she’s been too nice to say anything. Getting her to lie to mom for me is a whole new low for us.
“I’m sorry. We good?”
“Spill it.” She deserves something, and if I tell her now, I’ll save myself another Rocks related grilling when he shows up at closing time.
“I told Mom I was at the library with you, but I was with Rocks.”
Her eyes widen and her jaw almost falls off her face. “OMG!” Tiff smacks her forehead. “I forgot to ask you how that ‘walk home’ went.” Her eyebrows do a scary dance. But before she can take in my eye roll, she’s a squealing mess.
She draws the attention of half the class. I’m so glad Mrs. Yamaguchi hasn’t arrived yet. The squealing is followed by hugging, some bouncing up and down, and eventual begging for juicy details.
“We’re not dating.” I don’t know why I bother speaking sometimes.
“Not yet.”
“No. Look at me. Listen.” I try to get in her direct line of sight. “We’re not dating. Just friends, and he’s going to walk me home after work.”
The look on her face is starting to scare me. “First, Parker. Now, Rocks. Prom will be a hard choice!”
Oh good God.
* * * * *
Kelly has pulled out all stops with dinner. It’s going to be a three-course affair and since I told her Rocks has a sweet tooth, dessert is a platter of mini creations that rival anything I’ve ever seen on Master Chef.
At precisely seven, there’s a knock at the door. Kelly and Chad position themselves on one side of the kitchen island—the perfect couple. When I open the door, my heart completely stops. Dead.
Rocks is standing on the porch and looks like he’s just stepped out of a black and white mobster movie. Bonnie and Clyde would adopt him in a heartbeat. Forget the fob watch, the fedora has come to dinner. It’s on his head at just the right angle to stop my heart. But
the fedora is just the beginning. He’s wearing a three-piece suit—dark grey with a super thin black pinstripe—and holding a bunch of wild flowers. The suit admittedly looks old, almost antique if that was possible for clothing. I’m guessing he’s not the first or second person to own it, but regardless, I’m going to die the happiest teenager ever.
I want to bask in the glory of Rocks dressed for dinner, but now he could easily pass for twenty-five, and my father is going to have kittens at the kitchen counter, and I’m never going to be allowed to leave the house again.
Inadequate is the word that’s playing on repeat inside my head. I never dress for dinner. I did change out of my cutoffs into a denim mini skirt, but I’d need to be wearing a twenties flapper dress to look the part on his arm this evening.
He’s smiling. I can tell he’s waiting for my approval. And I want to give it, I do. But …
Stepping out, I pull the door almost closed behind me. Without saying a word, Rocks has read me yet again and is deflating before my eyes. I’m a giant pin at a balloon party.
“Too much?” He’s staring at his shoes. It’s the first time I haven’t seen him in his giant boots. The hat rim completely blocks me. Oh, Rocks, what am I going to do with you?
I step in closer than normal to get under his hat. “Hey, you look amazing, but my dad is going to have a coronary.”
He says nothing. “Rocks, I mean it. The fedora is my new favorite.” That earns me a shy smile. So much of what he discovers in my world becomes his new favorite. It’s our thing, and the fact that we have ‘a thing’ makes my stomach do a triple loop-de-loop.
“That good, huh?” He’s back.
I’m about to head inside, but the look on his face makes me halt. His eyes are doing that slow roam that Rocks never seems to be embarrassed about. I wait.
“You look lovely.”
It’s the first time he’s seen my hair down. It’s my turn to use it as a shield—my casual outfit is not worthy of his compliments. A long strand slips over my shoulder as I look from his shiny black shoes to my tiny silver sandals. Two fingers slide into my hair near my crown, and I hold my breath. Rocks lets the strands slip through his fingers all the way down. At the bottom, he gently twirls my hair around his finger. “Your hair is spellbinding.”
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