Boy in a Band (A Morgan Mallory story)

by Lisa Loomis

  “Come on, let’s go,” he said, pulling me after him.

  I let him lead me, and after a minute, he dropped my arm.

  “Don’t be such a girl,” he said, as we caught back up to Bobby and walked towards the creek.

  “Cool ride,” Mathew said.

  “I wish we could drive the Jeeps,” Bobby said.

  “Yeah, that would be awesome. You ever driven, Morgan?” Mathew asked.

  “Yeah, my grandfather lets me drive on his ranch in Rumsey. It’s up past San Francisco somewhere,” I answered.

  “No way,” he said. “I can’t wait to drive. Does he let you drive alone?”

  “No, he’s in the car,” I answered, finding his question silly.

  “I mean, not on his lap or between his legs?” he asked.

  “Oh, yeah, he’s on the passenger side. I do the steering and the pedals.”

  “That is so cool he lets you do that,” Mathew said.

  “He lets both Pat and me when our parents aren’t around. I think he thinks it’s funny. He has some pretty crazy stories of growing up. I don’t know, maybe he wants to give us a few of our own.”

  I wanted to get off that subject because they thought it was so cool and I felt like it wasn’t a big deal. I could hear the creek babbling, as we got closer. When we got to it, I realized this creek moved faster than ours and was wider. I wondered how much colder it was than ours and realized I'd soon find out when Mathew sat down and started taking off his shoes and socks. Bobby bent down to touch the water and gave an exaggerated shiver.

  “Chilly,” he said before he sat down and followed Mathew.

  “Come on in, guys, it’s not that cold,” Mathew said, wading into the creek.

  I stood on the bank, watching them splash around and decided that if I wanted to spend time with Mathew, I'd better get my shoes off too. As I stepped in, Mathew kicked water towards me.

  “Ah,” I shouted as the cold water hit my legs and side.

  Mathew laughed and kicked a smaller amount making sure it got close, but not on me.

  “Mathew, don’t,” I begged, looking down at my now-wet side. “I don’t want to be all wet.”

  “Okay, no more splashing, let’s explore,” he said as he headed up the creek.

  The rocks were a bit slippery, so I cautiously followed the boys. There were some patches of cattails, so when I noticed a few pollywogs, I immediately started looking for frogs. I was sort of lagging behind, thinking about my own creek and the games we played, while the boys splashed up ahead. It didn’t take me long to find a little frog, and I picked it up.

  “Hey, look what I found,” I yelled at them.

  Mathew and Bobby turned around and came back.

  “Cool, look at that,” Mathew said, reaching to touch the frog that I had cupped in my hand.

  “You like frogs?” Mathew asked, surprised.

  He was gentle when he stroked the little guy and his fingers couldn’t help but touch my hand in doing so.

  “Yeah, we have a creek at the end of our street, and they're all over the place, even bullfrogs.”

  “I don’t know many girls who like frogs,” Bobby said.

  “You know one now,” I said proudly.

  “They give you warts, you know,” Mathew said, running the fingers he’d touched the frog with lightly down my arm, making me shiver. I hoped he hadn’t noticed.

  “They do not. That’s an old wives' tale,” I said, putting the frog gently back in the creek. “If they did, I would have warts all over.”

  “All over?” Mathew asked slowly, raising an eyebrow.

  I didn’t answer him. I wasn’t sure what he meant, but the way he said it made me think like naked all over. When I stood up from letting the frog go, he gave me a shy sort of sexy grin.

  “Kidding, Morgan, I get it, you don’t get warts.”

  I put my hand into the water and we watched as the frog swam with the current down the creek.

  “Follow the leader,” Mathew said.

  He started out, making a path by jumping from rock to rock. As we swapped being leader, each of us continued to make it increasingly harder for the others. Longer jumps, the distances becoming more difficult, and we would laugh when one of us ended up in the creek.

  “I’m gonna dry out here for a minute,” Mathew said, sitting down on the bank.

  I sat down next to him. Bobby sat down on the other side of me, picking up a stick and rolling rocks into a pile in the creek, forming a dam.

  “So what’s up for your summer, Morgan?” Mathew asked.

  “Hanging out, I guess,” I shrugged.

  “Who do you hang out with, friends from school?”

  “More with the friends from my street,” I answered.

  “From your street?” Mathew questioned.

  “There are a lot of kids who live on our street. My best friend Gayle lives right across from me. How about you?”

  I wanted to keep him talking, getting to know him.

  “Hang with friends, play with the band. A family trip to Oregon. Maybe even hang with Bobby some at the beach,” Mathew answered.

  Bobby hadn’t said much. We both looked over to him when Mathew said that. He’d built quite a nice dam that was now diverting water around it.

  “Right, Bobby?”

  “What? I wasn’t listening,” Bobby answered.

  Bullshit I thought he was listening. I could feel his resentment. He obviously didn’t want me palling around with the two of them. Mathew, on the other hand, seemed glad to have me there and ignored his comment.

  “You have pretty hands,” Mathew said, taking my hand in his.

  It was like a bolt of lightning shot through me. Stunned, I looked down at my hand and then at Mathew. As I looked up into his eyes, Bobby burst out laughing. I turned toward the sound in time to see him roll onto his back in hysterics.

  “Mathew, you are so corny,” he laughed.

  I looked back at Mathew, and he smiled. I wasn’t sure if I was the brunt of the joke or what. I felt myself blush and I turned away. I hoped he was serious and not just being corny.

  “Guys, lunch,” Sara called as she ran up to us.

  Mathew dropped my hand.

  “We’ve been looking for you.”

  “We’ve been looking for you,” Mathew mimicked back at her.

  “Shut up, shit head,” she said, turning her back to him, which sent Bobby into another round of laughter.

  We walked back to where we had left our shoes and dried off our feet as much as possible before putting them back on. Then we walked across the dried grass to where everyone else was and grabbed up paper plates. Lunch was a spread of all kinds of salads and sandwiches.

  “I’m starving,” Mathew said, loading potato salad onto his plate.

  I realized I was too. The sight of all the food made my mouth water. There was so much to chose from it was hard to get everything on the plate. After we loaded up, we found a blanket and sat down. My feet still felt cold and wet, so I put down my plate to pull off my shoes again. It seemed that Mathew had the same idea.

  “Uh,” Mathew said as he tugged at his shoe, falling backwards into my lap, almost landing in my plate.

  “Hey,” I said, moving my plate further to the side.

  “Oh, sorry about that,” he said as he put his hand on my leg, pushing himself upright.

  The fact that he’d chosen my leg to push himself up, rather than the blanket, sort of surprised me.

  “It’s okay,” I answered as he laughed.

  “Whatever,” Bobby said under his breath, rolling his eyes.

  I was pretty sure he had rolled into me intentionally, a playful maneuver in order to touch me. I felt the butterflies inside; I liked his touch. Bobby’s comment made me even surer it was no accident. We ate our lunch and talked about summer plans with friends and family. Other girls joined us and more conversation and laughter ensued. Some of the girls were teasing each other about boyfriends. I was enjoying my proxi
mity to Mathew and the warmth of the sun when we were called to reload to head back to the ranch house.

  “All you kids get in this Jeep so I can take a picture,” Ann said.

  There was laughter and pushing as we piled in. I squished in right close to Mathew. He smiled as our arms touched each other. I had the urge to hold his hand. Once Ann got the picture, we spilled out back onto the grass, and I got separated from Mathew. I was deeply disappointed to find myself in a Jeep behind the one Mathew and Bobby ended up in. I could see his blond hair shining in the sunlight. He tossed his head back as he and Bobby laughed. No doubt Bobby was relieved to have me gone.

  I wondered if Mathew had felt anything when he touched me, anything like I felt. I smiled about the driving conversation and the frog. Two things they were impressed with, and hadn’t guessed about me. I tried to concentrate on enjoying the beauty of the ranch, the rolling hills, the mustard fields, the oak trees, and the clear blue sky, trying to push Mathew out of my head. I couldn’t help but catch glimpses of the Jeep ahead and the back of Mathew’s head wishing I were seated next to him rather then Bobby.

  When we got back to the ranch house, everyone seemed to scatter. I watched as he and Bobby, along with several other kids, headed toward the barn where there was a rope swing, and I watched as they all took turns. Several of the girls shrieked as they swung out. I could hear my parents talking and saying their goodbyes behind me. I turned around and walked toward them.

  “Thank you,” I said to the Brenner’s who were standing next to them. “It was a super fun day.”

  “You’re so welcome. It was fun,” Mrs. Brenner said.

  “We’ll have to get together more often,” Ann said.

  After several other goodbyes, I headed towards the car. I could see Pat was already there in the back seat with the door open. I rested my arms on the top of the door and looked back in the direction of the barn where the rope swing was still moving, but everyone was gone.

  “Morgan,” I heard Mathew call out behind me.

  I turned around as he ran up to me.

  “Hey, it was fun hanging with you today. You’re not such a girl after all,” he hesitated. “I mean in a good way.”

  I wanted to reach out and touch him. The butterflies were flittering into a tight mass low in my belly.

  “Thanks, I guess,” I said shyly.

  “See you around,” he said, slapping me lightly on the shoulder.

  I looked into his blue eyes. Yeah, see ya.

  Chapter 8

  “So?” Gayle asked.

  We were sitting in my room, listening to records. The Partridge Family was playing; David Cassidy had just finished “I Think I Love You”, and I was daydreaming. I had been watching their TV show and buying their records since they first came on in 1970. I'd had such a crush on David Cassidy, for years. Now I was thinking about Mathew. Him taking my hand by the creek, how his touch raced through me. The feeling was earth shattering for me, a definite reaction to his touch. No other boy had made me feel that.

  “What?” I asked, not sure what she was referring to.

  “You know what? Tell me about the picnic. You were so excited to go, but haven’t said anything about it. I assume Mathew was there?”

  I smiled and Gayle narrowed her eyes at me.

  “I haven’t even met him, and you are over the top.”

  “I’m not,” I laughed.

  “Are too,” she said.

  “I definitely like him, I mean as a friend,” I corrected.

  I’d pictured him kissing me, almost could feel his lips on mine at times.

  “Oh, bullshit as a friend. I knew it!” she said, doing a little cheerleading rah- rah with her hands.

  “You want to kiss him,” she taunted. “You want to kiss him, don’t you, Morgan?”

  “Fuck off. I hate it when you turn out to be right.”

  I told her about the picnic and what happened with Mathew.

  “Sounds like he likes you too,” Gayle said.

  “You think that’s what his actions mean?”

  “Morgan, he squeezed between you and Bobby in the Jeep, he asked you to go to the creek, he said you had pretty hands, and I agree with Bobby, that was so lame,” she laughed.

  Gayle had a great laugh: it was deep and real. I waited for her to go on. I was hoping what she was saying was true, that he liked me, that I wasn’t reading the signs incorrectly.

  “He sat with you at lunch, after he ‘accidentally’ fell into your lap, then he sought you out to say good bye. Yeah, I think he likes you.”

  Wouldn’t that be grand. I also knew us being more than friends wasn’t practical.

  “Gayle, he goes to another school. I will only get to see him occasionally. I don’t think there is much hope in that one,” I said.

  It bummed me out that what I was saying was true. It wasn’t like he lived around the corner either, in order for us to be together ever, it would be when our parents got together.

  “Let get some booze together for the weekend,” I said. “Catch a buzz.”

  “You get it. Your parents have more liquor than mine, and they get into it more. I don’t think they're as likely to notice it missing.”

  “Probably not, let’s plan on Friday night at the creek. Ditch the other kids.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Gayle said.

  My mom and Ann were becoming good friends. With my dad gone so much, we went over to the O’Conner’s often. Sometimes it would be a short visit, Ann and mom sharing a drink or two, and sometimes it would be for an entire evening: more drinks and often including dinner. No matter what, I always hoped Mathew would be around. When he wasn’t, I felt let down. Sara, Pat, Sam, Mathew, and I would play tag, kick ball, or tether ball in the O’Conner’s backyard, and every now and then, Mathew and I would make physical contact. Some of it I was sure was planned and some the nature of the games. The best was when Mathew and I would go to his room or the garage, and he would play his guitar.

  “Let’s go to my room and not tell them,” Mathew whispered in my ear.

  We were playing hide-and-seek outside in the dark, and Mathew had pulled me with him into a cramped space behind the pines and juniper.

  “Okay,” I answered quietly.

  I desperately wanted out of there. I could imagine the spiders and bugs that were in those bushes. The only reason I stayed was that I was cramped in that small space up against him. I had my chest to his back and as I pushed into him more then I needed to I could feel his heart beat. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, but I figured he would find it weird.

  “You ready?” he whispered.

  “Following you,” I replied.

  It surprised me when he took my hand, leading me along the fence behind the bushes, pausing several times to listen. I gripped his hand tight in mine, not wanting him to let go as we crept to the side yard and into the garage.

  “You can let go of my hand now,” he said quietly, looking at me.

  “Oh,” I said, feeling silly.

  I let his hand drop and realized that I had been holding on too tight.

  “Nothing like a good vise grip,” he whispered, shaking his hand.

  He reached for the back door knob, then turned to me and put his fingers to his lips. I followed him silently into the house and up the stairs into his room. I could hear the adults downstairs talking and laughing, my dad no doubt telling dirty jokes. He constantly seemed to pick up new ones on the road.

  “I wonder how long they'll look for us?” he chuckled.

  “It’s kind of mean.”

  “I know,” he said, closing his door softly. “Can’t turn on the lights yet, they’ll see it.”

  I didn’t respond. The glow from the streetlight outside his window spilled a soft yellow light into the room. The room smelled like him. I wasn’t sure if it was the soap he used or if he used cologne, but it smelled nice, almost lemon, vanilla, but not. I breathed it in. He hastily swept clothes that were on his bed off to
the floor and then straightened the unmade covers on the bed. He flopped down on it and chuckled again while I stood looking at him in the soft light.

  “Morgan, Mathew, where are you?”

  We could hear the three of them calling from outside.

  “Come out now,” Sara shouted.

  Mathew smiled at me.

  “Sit down,” he said, patting the spot next to him on the bed.

  I walked over and sat down where he had indicated, feeling a bit uncertain, but excited to be near him. We sat in silence in the dark and listened to them hunt for us. I could tell Sara was pissed off and knew Mathew was hiding from them.

  “Let’s tell them,” I said.

  “No way,” Mathew said as he moved behind me. “Let 'em hunt.”

  “Morgan,” I heard Pat yell, closer to the house this time.

  I felt him put his hand gently on my head, then he slid his fingers into my hair. Shocked, I straightened my back, sitting completely upright even as I shivered, feeling my heart beat in my throat, waves of hot flushing in and out.

  “Your hair is so cool, I like it,” he said again, running his fingers through it slowly.

  Between my legs tingled as he slid his hand down to my shoulder and down my arm, coming to rest on my hip. I felt tight all over. I could hardly breath with want as I waited for him to move it, but he didn’t. The silence, the darkness, his touch; I didn’t dare break the moment. I heard the front door open and then voices. They had given up and come inside, they would find us, and the moment would vanish.

  “Where are Mathew and Morgan?” I heard Ann ask.

  “Hiding from us,” Sara answered quickly.

  We could hear them running up the stairs. Muttering under his breath, Mathew removed his hand and quickly rolled off the bed, switching on the light. He moved to grab his guitar, pulling out the desk chair at the same time. He plopped himself down, ready to play. He did it all so seamlessly and easy while all I could do was sit there, angry and frustrated as we waited for the fury. When the door flew open and the three of them stood there, arms crossed across their chests, Mathew started plucking on his guitar.