“You know no one will come near us if you’re with me.”
She smiles. “I know, but you’re the only guy I know well enough to ask that doesn’t already have a date.”
I can’t help but laugh. “So I’m the last resort?”
“Pretty much. And you owe me. And now we’re not lying to your mom. That part was really bothering me.”
“So what’s the plan for the evening?” I ask, shifting the clothes in my arms, hoping they’re not getting too wrinkled or dirty now that it looks like I’ll need them.
“I guess we’ll get something to eat? Then head to the dance?”
I nod. “Give me twenty minutes to get ready.” I’m heading upstairs while Mom’s heading down.
“I put a little money in your coat pocket for dinner,” she says when she stops on the step ahead of me.
“It’s okay, Mom. I have a little bit from working. You need to keep it.”
She squeezes my arm and gives me a bright smile. “No, it’s okay. Elise paid me half up front so I could buy the groceries I needed. I’m so glad you’re going to the dance.”
Mom’s gig is tomorrow night. Mrs. Sullivan has a huge group coming over to watch the LSU game in their media room and I know everyone there will be blown away with Mom’s food. And hopefully it will lead to other jobs for her and then we could get our own apartment.
I move up to the next step and give her a hug. “Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate it.” I’m glad things worked out like they did tonight because there’s no way I could take a dime from her then lie about where I’m going.
She hugs me back, squeezing me tightly, then pats my arm. “It’s not much. Have fun tonight.” I head up while she heads down, and just before I close the bathroom door, I hear her say, “Oh, Pippa! Don’t you look beautiful!”
• • •
“Maybe they think I put a hit out on Seth so he couldn’t take you tonight and you’d be forced to go with me,” I say, just before taking a big bite of spaghetti. We’re at one of her favorite places, Geno’s, eating some of the best Italian food I’ve ever had. There are several other tables full of people from our school, all dressed up for the dance and staring at us.
Pippa laughs. “I don’t get why they’re still staring. I mean, we’ve been sitting together at lunch for a week now. It’s not like this is new.”
“The guys are staring because you’re the prettiest girl in the room and the girls are staring because they know it, too.”
She throws her roll at me, hitting me in the forehead.
“What?” I ask.
“Be serious,” she says.
She thinks I’m screwing with her but I’m dead serious.
“So where’s the dance?” I ask.
“The school gym.”
“I guess there will be balloon arches and a cheesy photo backdrop. They couldn’t at least spring for that big room at the Holiday Inn?”
“Owen, your snobbery is showing. This isn’t your fancy New Orleans boarding school.” She smiles when she says it but she’s effectively put me in my place.
“You’re right. I sound like an ass.”
“It’s okay, you can’t help it.”
This makes me laugh so hard that all the people that had stopped looking at us stare at us again.
Once dinner is over, we head to the dance, and the gym is full. Half the people are dancing while the other half are sitting on the bleachers that line the far wall. We take a selfie in front of the balloon arch because how could we resist.
We move across the room and I see David sitting with a group at one of the tables. I told Pippa about our truce at the sporting goods store, so when she notices who I’m looking at, she says, “We should go say hi.”
We walk up to their table and David seems surprised to see me.
“Hey, man,” I say to him.
He nods back. “You try out those new shoes yet?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Not yet. I really need to get some shooting practice in before the season starts.”
He glances around the table and I know most of the guys sitting with him are on the lacrosse team, too. When he looks back at me he says, “We play a pickup game on Sundays in the field behind school. Eleven o’clock. You should join us.”
I hope the shock I feel doesn’t show on my face. “I will. Thanks.” The fact he’s inviting me to join them makes me feel better than I thought it would.
We say good-bye to their table and move away with no real destination in mind.
“Look at you, making friends,” Pippa teases.
My hand finds hers and I thread our fingers together. “David’s cool.”
A slow song starts playing and I pull Pippa to the edge of the dance floor, then tug her close. She hesitates just a second, then presses up against me. All night we’ve been tiptoeing around that imaginary friend line and now we’re getting dangerously close to crossing it.
I’m all for it.
Her hands slide up around my neck while mine are anchored at her hips, keeping her close. She ducks her head so the top of it lands softly against my shoulder. I hope it stays there through the rest of the song.
“What were you really going to do tonight? Because I know you had something planned and it wasn’t coming to this dance.” I stiffen slightly but she doesn’t miss it. She raises her head and looks at me. “I’ve always known when you lie to me.”
“But you don’t know when I tell the truth?”
Her forehead scrunches up. “What do you mean?”
“Earlier. When I said you were the prettiest girl in the room. I was telling the truth and you blew me off like I was screwing with you.”
I can tell I’ve caught her off guard because she just stares at me, her mouth slightly open, and I decide Surprised Pippa is one of my favorite Pippas.
She’s about to say something else but gets distracted when she spots a group of her friends heading in our direction.
We pull apart and stand side by side but I slide my hand in hers so we’re still connected. Thankfully, she is okay with that.
“Hey,” she says in her most upbeat voice.
A few hellos bounce back at us and a couple give us a half-wave sort of thing but that’s it.
“So what’s going on?” she asks.
A girl I recognize from the bonfire says, “We’re trying to decide how long we’re staying before we head to Drew’s party.”
“I’m ready to go now,” some guy says. “This dance sucks.”
Most of the group throw similar statements back and forth and the general consensus is that even though the dance only started twenty minutes ago, no one wants to stay.
“You coming, Pippa?” the girl who spoke earlier asks.
It’s clear the invitation is only for her. I lean in close and whisper, “If you want to go with them, I understand.”
I don’t want her to go but I also don’t want to her to stay with me if that’s not what she wants.
Pippa doesn’t hesitate. “Y’all go ahead. We’re going to hang out here a little longer.”
I can’t help it; I pull her close, anchoring her to my side. She turns to me after her friends leave, her hands sliding up around my neck again, so we can resume dancing. “Your first high school dance in a gym isn’t complete until we’ve taken pics against that cheesy backdrop, had a cup of warm punch that unfortunately isn’t spiked, and gotten busted by one of the chaperones on the dance floor for slightly inappropriate behavior.”
“Well, we better start crossing things off the list,” I say. “There’s no one else I want to be slightly inappropriate with.”
With my hands on her hips, I pull her close until we’re touching from top to bottom. I’m teetering on the edge, ready to barrel across that imaginary friend line and move us into completely new and different territory, but something holds me back.
Fear.
Fear of ruining what we have. Fear she’ll regret it. Fear that I can’t handle losing anything els
e.
So we sway to the music and—for now—I’m content with the feel of her body next to mine.
Noah—Summer of 1999
“Smile for one more,” Maggie says, then lifts her small camera to her face, but before she can take another picture of me, I tug the camera away from her, pointing it in her direction, and snap one of her. The Polaroid picture shoots out of the bottom and I grab it before it hits the ground.
Shaking it to make it develop faster, I know it will be the best one of her yet.
It’s late afternoon. It’s hot out, the air feels like a wet blanket, and it’s hard to drag in a deep breath. It won’t be long before it’s dark and the mosquitoes run us inside, but for now, we’re on an old quilt at the base of this giant pecan tree in front of my little house near the river, glad for the shade it offers. The roots are so big and old that they’ve pushed out of the ground, forming a semicircle that makes it seem like the tree is hugging you.
It’s our favorite spot.
The picture comes into focus and I was right. The setting sun lights up her hair and she’s smiling at me like she does just before she kisses me. It’s my favorite smile. I tuck it in my pocket, knowing it’s one I’ll keep forever.
Maggie leans into me and we rest against the base of the tree.
“What are you thinking about?” Maggie asks.
“I’m thinking about the preacher who used to live in this house. The one who preached to these trees like they were people.”
She snuggles in close. “This was probably his favorite tree. It’s the biggest, prettiest one of the whole bunch.”
“I feel like that preacher had the right idea. This place feels like the safest spot. Like I could tell these trees anything and I know my secrets would be safe.”
She shifts around until her head is in my lap and she’s looking up at the tree limbs above her. “Oh, I love that. Let’s tell it a secret, let our words soak through the bark. And we’ll know forever that a piece of us is buried inside this tree. Our tree.”
My fingers run through her hair until I have it fanned out around her. “What secret do you want to tell it?”
She reaches her hand out to touch the tree, her eyes still locked on the branches overhead. “Tree, it’s Maggie. My secret is that I’m in love with this boy. He’s kind and sweet and cute. He’s strong and I feel safe with him. But he doesn’t know how awesome he is. And I’m afraid when I go off to college the distance will tear us apart and that makes me sad.”
Her words gut me. Humble me. She tears her gaze away from the limbs and leaves and looks at me.
“Your turn,” she says.
I smile at her and reach behind me, placing my hand behind my head so it rests on the trunk. But instead of staring at the branches above, I stare at Maggie.
“Tree, it’s Noah. My secret is I’m scared. Scared to death. Scared I’m not good enough for the girl I love. Scared I’m not good enough for her family. Scared that one day soon she’ll realize she can do so much better than me.”
She sits up and faces me, her long hair falling in waves behind her. “Don’t be scared.” She leans in, kisses me. I shift her around until she’s in my lap. Her hands push through my hair and mine dig into her waist, pulling her closer and closer.
I never want to leave this spot. Forever, I want us wrapped in the safety of this tree. This tree that now holds all of our secrets.
17
“Thank you again for doing this,” I say I as follow her to her car.
“This is the worst idea ever,” she mumbles. “And I’m dumb for going along with you.”
My fingers land on her wrist, stopping her, and she spins around. “You don’t have to go.” And once I touch her, I can’t stop. My fingers wrap around her wrist and I pull her close. I want to lean down and kiss her and by the look on her face, I think she wants the same thing. But the same reason that kept me from taking that next step last night stops me this morning.
She squeezes my arm. “I promised I would. But I still don’t understand why it’s so important for you to go to this auction.” She pulls away from me and disappears inside her car. I slide into the passenger seat. Her hand is on the key in the ignition but she hasn’t cranked the car yet. “Tell me the truth. Why do you want to go?”
We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. I really don’t want to keep anything from her. Not anymore.
“I want Mom to have one thing. Just one thing that was hers. They took everything from her and it kills me,” I whisper.
“Won’t you have to put up a credit card or something to show you can pay for it first?” she asks.
I shrug and she narrows her eyes at me.
“You’re just going to take something, aren’t you? Steal it?”
“It’s hard to steal something that’s already yours,” I answer back.
Pippa tilts her head to the side. “It’s not yours anymore, O.”
I shake my head. “No. Some of those things were not paid for by Dad. Some of those things my mom got from her parents. They shouldn’t have taken that stuff from her.”
“Then let me buy it for you. I’m not going to take you there if you plan on stealing something. I won’t be a part of that.”
“I have some money saved up from working for Gus. I can pay you back.”
The drive to my old house is short and the gate to the subdivision is wide open, since it’s obvious the steady stream of cars that pull through the gate is going to the auction. People from the neighborhood don’t even bother with cars, they come riding up in their golf carts or on foot. We park along the street a half mile away from the house, the closest spot we could find.
“This is going to be a nightmare,” I mumble when Pippa shuts off the engine.
“You can stay here. Tell me what you want me to get. I’ll go bid on it,” she offers.
“No, I want to go.”
We walk side by side down the street and every eye is on me. People don’t even try to whisper so I hear every comment about how tacky or wrong or disgraceful it is that I’m here.
Pippa grabs my hand, linking her fingers with mine, and I’ve never felt so grateful for a show of support before.
“If we’re doing this—head up. Be strong. Let it all roll off.”
I’m not sure if she’s saying that for my benefit or hers, but I straighten up and look ahead, ignoring everyone we pass.
There’s a huge tent in the front yard with chairs lined up underneath it. Most every one of them is full. At the end of the driveway, there’s a check-in table with a booklet showcasing everything up for auction.
Pippa steps up to the table, still clutching my hand, and asks, “How do I sign up to bid on things?”
The company running the auction is out of Alexandria so thankfully the woman at the table doesn’t recognize me, but everyone near us does. All of their expressions are the same: eyes big, jaw dropped, mouth open.
“You’ll need to fill out this form and put a credit card on file. We’ll give you a paddle with your bid number on it. The big items will be auctioned under the tent, then it will move inside and go room by room,” she says, handing me a piece of paper. “Here’s the schedule.”
Pippa lets go of my hand long enough to fill out the form and hand the woman a credit card. The woman swipes the card then hands it back to Pippa with the numbered paddle.
“Enjoy the auction,” she says with a big smile.
“I’m sure we will,” Pippa mumbles back. She grabs my hand and pulls me away from the table to stand on the side of the driveway, away from most of the crowd.
“Do you think they’ll stare at me the whole time?” I ask.
“Yep,” she answers and she browses through the book. “Do you know what you want to get her?”
I’ve clicked through the items on the site a hundred times by now. “Yeah, there’s a bracelet under Women’s Jewelry. In the fourth group down. My grandfather gave it to my mom. It’s a silver bracelet, nothing sp
ecial, but she loves it. And it shouldn’t go for too much money.”
Pippa bites her lip. “It may if anyone gets wind you want it. What time are they auctioning it?” She pulls the schedule out of my hand. “They’ll be in your parents’ room at two. We should leave and come back for that. No reason to wait here the whole time.”
I watch the action going on under the tent in the front yard. “What time do they auction the house?” I ask Pippa.
She glances at the paper again. “Eleven a.m.”
So that’s what the crowd is gathered for. Pippa starts to move down the driveway toward her car, but I pull her back. “I want to watch this.”
She glances to the tent and checks the book again. “O, this is a terrible idea. We should leave now and come back later. We’re only here for the bracelet, remember.”
“I just want to see who bids on it. And then we’ll go.”
I circle around the tent to the other side and we end up more in the neighbor’s yard than ours. People are still looking and pointing but it seems to be less and less as the upcoming auction is getting started. Under the tent, first up is the house, then the cars, the ski boat and Jet Skis, then some of the bigger pieces of furniture, all of the art, and ending with Mom’s really expensive jewelry.
It’s hard not to get distracted by the conversations going on around us. Not only are people pulling apart every little thing, but there is wild speculation about what could be inside the house. Words like secret vaults and wall safes are being batted around. Do people really think there are secrets buried somewhere in that house?
Is that possible?
The auctioneer greets everyone and explains the rules of the auction. Only those with a blue paddle can bid on the house and other big-ticket items since you had to be pre-approved. Obviously, that’s code for “you can’t bid on it if you can’t prove you can pay for it.”
The Lying Woods Page 19