by Amy Clipston
I waved off the comment. “Good-bye.”
The second bell rang, and I gasped. I’m late to class! I rushed down the hallway and up the stairs to Spanish class.
When I entered the classroom, I found all eyes in the room focused on me.
“Estás tarde, Señorita Richards.” Señora Zoch announced that I was late.
“Lo siento, Señora Zoch.” I apologized and made my way to my desk.
During class I slumped in my seat, hoping my incident with Brett wouldn’t be fodder for gossip. Yet at the same time, I didn’t care what everyone thought. Brett was the one who tried to embarrass me and did a better job embarrassing himself. Taylor’s words echoed through my ears and reminded me that it didn’t matter what people thought of me. I should only be concerned about being myself, which was what I was trying to figure out.
Later that evening I was sitting on my bed in my pajamas reading the novel Taylor had bought for me, when my phone chimed. I retrieved it from the nightstand and found the text was from Kristin.
What happened w/ u and Brett 2day?? Everyone is saying u argued in the hall.
“Oh no,” I said. I considered not answering, but then she would call.
I quickly texted: Nothing. He asked me out and I said no.
Kristin responded with: Why?? He loves u!
“Oh, please,” I mumbled while typing: No, he’s just jealous that I’m friends w/ Taylor. I wondered why Kristin didn’t understand how I felt about Brett. Why couldn’t my best friend see that Brett wasn’t the greatest choice for me? Kristin and I used to understand each other, but now I felt as if we were almost strangers. The change between us bothered me.
Kristin then sent: Are u dating Taylor?? U better tell the truth!!
I responded with: No. We’re friends. That’s it.
She texted: Are u sure?
Yes. I gotta go. C U 2morrow. I was anxious to get back to reading my book.
Ok, Kristin wrote. Night.
I was back to studying when my phone chimed again. I was relieved to find it was Taylor and not another nosy friend asking about Brett.
Hi. It’s Taylor.
I couldn’t hold back my smile. I was actually excited to see his text message.
I texted back: Hi. How r u?
Fine. U?
Ok. How was work?
Taylor wrote: Good. I talked 2 my mom …
And …?
Taylor wrote: She said sí.
I laughed. Did he forget I was a Spanish tutor? I responded with: Muy bien.
So u do really know Español.
I’m a tutor, remember?
Taylor texted: Yes, I remember. Was just teasing u. Vanessa is so excited about this. She wants 2 know if you can start Thursday after school.
Yes, I can.
He responded: Cool.
I studied the phone, wondering if he would respond again. When the phone remained silent for a few minutes, I returned to reading but found myself checking the phone frequently. When the phone chimed again, I jumped with a start.
Taylor texted: Vanessa is bouncing off the walls. U made my sister’s day. Thx.
I wrote back: De nada. You’re welcome.
LOL. Buenas noches.
I laughed while texting: Good night 2 u 2. C U 2morrow.
I returned the phone to the nightstand and then stared down at the novel. I was excited about the possibility of helping Vanessa make it onto the cheerleading team next year. But at the same time, I also felt excited at the thought of getting to know Taylor better. Where could this friendship lead, and how would my mother react to it?
The questions swirled through my mind as I tried to read. I wondered if Taylor would be home when I arrived at his house on Thursday, and I also wondered if he’d heard about the argument Brett and I had at school.
A knock sounded on the door, and my mom stuck her head in. “I’m heading to bed, Whitney. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”
“Okay.” I yawned and stretched. “I’m going to read for a few more minutes and then go to sleep.”
“All right. Good night, dear.” Mom blew an air kiss. “Oh, I have a meeting at the club Thursday, so you’ll probably be home before me.”
“Oh. I’ll be home late too.” I grasped my book and tried to think of an excuse for being home late Thursday. I couldn’t admit I was going to Taylor’s house, but I didn’t exactly want to lie either. “I have a meeting after school.”
“Oh. Okay,” Mom said. “Don’t read too late. You need to get your sleep.”
“Good night.”
She disappeared through the door. I felt a twinge of guilt, but I knew in my heart I was teaching Vanessa for the right reasons. I wanted to bring some joy to her life. I just hoped somehow my mom would understand when she found out the truth.
chapter eight
Thursday afternoon I parked my Jeep in Taylor’s driveway and then walked up to the front door. I didn’t see the motorcycle out front, and I wondered if it was in the garage. I adjusted the tote bag on my shoulder, straightened my blouse, and touched my hair before knocking on the door. I briefly wondered why I worried so much about my appearance. Had I learned that habit from my friends, who seemed to care only about appearances, not about getting to know someone in depth? I knew my friends would never understand why I wanted to help Vanessa, but I actually had been looking forward to this all day long.
The door swung open, and Vanessa beamed. “Whitney! I’m so excited you’re here. Please come in.”
“Thanks.” I stepped into the house.
I glanced around and found the floor plan mirrored my cousin’s house across the street. The small family room was decorated with a fireplace, two sofas, a recliner, bookshelves packed with books and framed photographs, and a television. Beyond it was a hallway reaching back toward a modest kitchen and two bedrooms. I wondered if Vanessa shared a bedroom with her mother or if she had to share one with Taylor.
I stepped over to the fireplace, and my eyes focused on a framed photo displayed among a collection of vases and figurines. The photograph showed Taylor, Vanessa, and a woman posing in front of a blue background. Taylor was smiling a genuine smile.
I examined Vanessa’s image, smiling between Taylor and the woman. She too had a bright and sunny expression. The woman had the same dark hair and eyes as Vanessa and Taylor. However, her smile seemed less genuine, almost forced, and her eyes had a hint of sadness.
“That’s my mom.” Vanessa moved beside me. “We had that photo taken a couple of years ago at church.”
“She’s very pretty. You look like her.”
Vanessa grinned. “Thanks.”
My eyes were drawn back to Taylor. I studied him, taking in every line of his face. What was wrong with me? The last thing I needed was a crush on Taylor Martinez, but I felt it swelling inside me. I glanced at the bookshelves and spotted more family photos. I scanned them, finding photos of Taylor and Vanessa at different ages.
Vanessa grinned. “We look goofy, don’t we?”
“The photos are nice. I love seeing old photos.” I turned to her and saw she was dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. “I brought some clothes to change into.”
“Okay.” Vanessa motioned for me to follow her down the short hallway. “You can change in the bathroom.” She pointed toward a small bathroom located off the hallway.
“Thank you.” I slipped into the bathroom and changed from my skirt and blouse to yoga pants, a T-shirt, and a pullover sweatshirt. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and then folded my clothes and placed them into my bag.
I stepped back into the hallway and glanced through an open door into a small bedroom, including an unmade bed with a dark-colored comforter, a desk peppered with papers and books, a desk chair with clothes draped over it, and piles of clothes on the floor. Posters and pictures of motorcycles, along with academic awards, clogged the walls and shelves.
The room told me so much about Taylor that I felt as if I was prying into his private l
ife. It was obvious he wasn’t good at staying organized, but the academic awards showed that he could keep it together well for school. And his love of motorcycles intrigued me. I wanted to know more about him. Why was he so driven when it came to school?
“That’s my brother’s room.” Vanessa startled me as she approached. “My mom has given up trying to get him to straighten it. She says it’s his choice if he wants to live in filth.”
“I totally understand. I have a little brother.”
Vanessa pointed to a room across the hallway containing a double bed and two dressers. “I share a room with my mom.”
“Oh,” I said. “That’s nice.”
Vanessa’s smile seemed forced. “Yeah, it’s okay.”
“What does your mom do?” I asked as I followed her back to the family room.
“She’s a housekeeper.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “I bet that’s hard work.”
“Yeah, it is. She’s exhausted every night. Taylor and I do all we can to help her. She keeps lecturing us about doing our best in school so we can go to college and get a good job.” Vanessa stood in front of the bookshelves. “Mom regrets dropping out of high school, but at the time she was blinded by love, as she says. She says my dad was really convincing, and he promised to always love her and take care of her. She tells me constantly that boys lie, and I shouldn’t believe them when they say they love me. She says boys don’t know what love is until they’re over thirty. Mom says I should never depend on a man to take care of me. I need to go to college and get a good job so I can take care of myself.”
“That’s good advice.” I suddenly wanted to meet Vanessa’s mother. She was a woman who had overcome a lot of obstacles in life but was doing her best to care for her children and teach them to be self-sufficient. I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if my mom and Vanessa’s mom ever met. Their life perspectives would definitely clash.
Vanessa pointed toward the kitchen. “Would you like a snack or anything?”
“Oh, no, thank you.” I touched my stomach. “I had a big salad at lunch.”
She raised her eyebrows. “A salad filled you up?”
“Lots of croutons.”
She laughed. “You’re funny. So, where should we start?”
“I think we should go outside. I don’t think we want to do cartwheels in here and risk breaking something.”
“Let’s go out back.” Vanessa led me through a side door off the kitchen and into the small backyard with a picnic table, a small shed, and an area outlined with railroad ties that I assumed was a garden in the springtime. “So, what’s first?” She clapped her hands. “I’m so excited!”
“I thought I’d teach you the first cheer I teach when I train the rec league. It’s pretty basic.” I began to show her moves, and she caught on quickly to everything I showed her.
After nearly an hour, she’d mastered two cheers and was eager to learn some gymnastics techniques. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and I was really enjoying teaching her. I had forgotten how much fun it was to instruct brand-new cheerleaders.
“How about we start with a cartwheel?” I rubbed my hands together.
“That would be awesome!” Vanessa beamed. “I’ve always wanted to know how to do one.”
“Here’s what you do.” I was in the middle of showing her how to do a cartwheel when I heard a motorcycle pull up into the driveway.
“My brother is home early.” Vanessa turned toward the front of the house. “Oh well. Where were we? Would you show me again?”
I hesitated, suddenly self-conscious about Taylor seeing me do gymnastics, but I pushed the thought aside. I’d been performing gymnastics since I was three, and it was preposterous for me to suddenly worry about what someone thought of my execution of a cartwheel. I did two cartwheels in a row and then stopped when I heard someone clapping.
I turned and found Taylor watching from the edge of the yard.
“Impressive.” Taylor clapped again. “I can see why you’re captain of the cheerleading squad.”
I bowed while catching my breath. I was a little out of shape, since football season had ended in December. “I’m glad to see you can recognize good talent.”
“How’s your training session going?” He leaned against the back of the house.
“Awesome! Want to see what I can do?” Vanessa turned to me. “Can we show him our cheers?”
“Go for it.” I motioned toward her and then placed my hands on my hips.
She looked nervous. “Would you do the cheers with me?”
“You know I can’t try out with you, Vanessa. You’re going to have to get used to performing in front of a crowd.” I pointed toward Taylor, who looked on with a smile. “He’s your brother. He won’t make fun of you.”
“Want to make a bet?” Vanessa asked with her hands on her hips.
“Fine. Let’s start with the first one I taught you. Ready?”
We went through both cheers.
Taylor grinned. “That’s pretty good, but I want to see Whitney do another cartwheel.”
“Why?” I regarded him with suspicion.
Vanessa bumped me with her elbow. “Because he thinks you’re cute, and he wants to see you flip around again.”
“Really?” I asked.
“I need to get inside.” Taylor stared hard at his sister and then disappeared around the corner of the house.
“I think he likes you.” Vanessa sang the words.
I shook my head. “I doubt that.”
“No, I think he does.” Vanessa put her hands on her hips again. “I heard him tell my mom you’re pretty and you’re smart. He also said you know how to stand up for yourself, but you think of other people’s feelings too. He said you’re different from the other popular kids. You have more depth.”
“I have depth, huh?” I felt a glimmer of hope and then pushed it away. “I don’t think I’m his type.”
“My best friend, Maggie, always says opposites always attract.”
“I think that happens sometimes but not all the time. My cousin and her boyfriend are both crazy about cars. They actually fell in love working on a car together.”
“Are you talking about Emily across the street?”
I nodded. “Yup, she’s the one.”
“Does her boyfriend drive a Jeep?” Vanessa asked, and I nodded again. “Oh, I know who you mean. He’s really cute. I’ve seen him visit her on weekends.”
“Yeah, Zander is cute. He’s really a good guy too. He’s going to a motorsports technical college. They love talking about cars together. It’s their life. So, in that instance, opposites didn’t attract.”
“Hmm.” Vanessa tilted her head. “Maggie isn’t usually wrong, but maybe the difference is more than just their interests.”
I nodded, considering her words. Could Taylor possibly be “my type” too? It didn’t seem likely. I glanced down at my watch. “Oh no! It’s after five. I have to get to youth group. We’re having a potluck tonight.”
“That sounds fun.”
We walked back to the house together.
“Do you want to come?” I asked. “It’s a fun group. We have a really good time.”
“Thanks. I’ll have to ask.”
We stepped into the kitchen, where Taylor was busy pulling items out of the refrigerator. A pack of chopped meat, tomato sauce, a package of garlic bread, and a bag of frozen vegetables were lined up on the counter. I watched him in awe, stunned the motorcycle rider could cook too. What can’t this kid do?
Vanessa scooted up onto the counter beside the food items. “Can I go to youth group with Whitney tonight?”
Taylor turned toward her. “Is your homework done?”
Vanessa’s shoulders hunched as her expression darkened. “No.”
“Then I think you know the answer.” He began pulling pots out of the cabinets. “And get off the countertop. If you can’t fit in the dishwasher, then you don’t belong on the counter, right?”
&n
bsp; Vanessa hopped down. “You sound like Mom.”
“That’s because Mom is right about that.” He opened a cabinet and began poking through spices.
I stifled a snicker and retrieved my bag from a kitchen chair. “I’m going to go get changed.” I slipped into the bathroom and quickly changed into my skirt and blouse. I then brushed out my hair.
I moved back down the hallway but stopped when I overheard Vanessa say my name. Although I knew it wasn’t right, I stood against the wall and listened like a spy holding a glass to evesdrop.
“Whitney is so nice, Taylor.” Vanessa spoke in a hushed tone I could clearly hear. “She taught me so much. Thank you for letting her help me.”
“You’re welcome. I knew you’d have fun.”
“So, you’ve changed your mind about cheerleading?” Her voice was hopeful.
“I didn’t say that. I just think it’s a good idea for you to give it a try.”
“Did Whitney change your mind?”
I held my breath, waiting for his response and hoping he’d say something positive about me.
“Yeah, I guess so.” A pot banged and then water ran. “Would you grab the spaghetti from the pantry, please? Mom is going to be home soon.”
I started for the doorway.
“You like her, don’t you?” Vanessa’s question came in a singsong voice, and I stopped dead in my tracks.
“Who?” Taylor asked.
“Whitney, silly!”
“Oh. Sure, I do. She’s my friend.”
“She’s really pretty, and I think she likes you.”
I swallowed a groan and silently kicked myself for not barging into the kitchen and stopping this conversation. We were now moving into dangerous territory, but at the same time, I also couldn’t keep myself from listening.
“Vanessa, I think you need to worry about making spaghetti instead of trying to play matchmaker.”
More noise of dinner preparation rang out from the kitchen, and I took a deep breath to prepare myself for walking in on their conversation about me.
I moved to the doorway and found Taylor at the counter making meatballs and Vanessa placing spaghetti in a large pot on the stove.