“To sing with your band.”
“Skeet and I just mess around. We don’t have a serious band.”
“You should. You sounded pretty good to me.”
“Jodie would never have done this if you hadn’t dragged her.”
“So? She’s got a great voice. She just needs confidence. Your band can give that to her, and in the bargain, your band will be better. I’m doing you both a favor.”
“Where do you know her from?” He never saw Lisa hang with anyone at school, and Jodie was the type who faded into the woodwork in a school the size of Crestwater.
“She lives in my apartment building. I heard her singing out on the playground one day last summer. She didn’t see me. She was sitting on a swing. The place was empty and she was just singing out loud. I told her I thought she sounded great. She was embarrassed, but once we got to know each other, we became friends. She has talent, and your band’s a good start for her. Not everyone can be on Star Search or American Idol.”
“What do you get out of it, Lisa?” He kept digging for Lisa’s motives, which he figured were present, but he couldn’t grasp what they were. “What exactly do you want?”
She didn’t say anything at first. He kept looking at her, at her violet eyes, at her lips, full and shimmering with gloss. It made his knees weak. “No one can give me what I want, Malone.” She surprised him by looping her arm through his. “Show me around. Where I live we only get flowers planted at the entrance. The place is mostly asphalt, parked cars and a few scraggly trees, watered daily by dogs. I’m telling you, those trees are toxic. No one can go near them.”
Nathan walked with Lisa. He knew the gardens well, since he helped his mother tend them, so he talked about specific plants and apologized for what wasn’t blooming. “You should really come in the spring,” he said. “I’ll bet there are a thousand flowers then.”
She seemed totally into the tour and for once he was glad his mother had taken such pains with the yard. They stopped at the koi pond and Lisa sat on the bench, leaned out over the water and watched the exotic fish come to the surface in a school of fluttering fins.
“They’re beggars,” Nathan said. “We can hand-feed them.”
“Really? Can I?”
“I’ll have to go get some bread from the house.”
“No, that’s okay. Some other day.”
Did that mean she might actually come again? He’d been trying to get her attention and spend more time with her, and all it might have taken was an invitation to feed some fish.
She sat back, closed her eyes and breathed in the air. She was so beautiful that he wanted to kiss her. Of course, she’d probably push him into the pond if he tried. Her eyes opened and focused on the magnificent magnolia tree in the center of the yard. “Big tree.”
“Mom planted it when I was three.”
Lisa studied the beds around the tree, set off by a meandering row of bricks and Spanish tile. “You know, it sort of looks like there was something else there at one time. Before the flower beds and tree.”
“There was.”
“Tell me.”
His heart pounded and his mouth tasted bone-dry. It was the thing his family never spoke about. “We used to have a swimming pool. Mom liked the tiles too much to rip them out.”
“And your parents covered it over? We have a pool at my complex, but it’s toxic too.” She wrinkled her nose. “Too many little kids peeing in it. So why did you all fill yours in with dirt? Too much trouble to take care of? Your mom wanted gardens and trees instead?”
The pounding in Nathan’s ears was almost a roar. He wanted to tell her but wasn’t sure if he should. It was their family business, and besides, it might turn her off, one thing he didn’t want to do. Nathan took a deep breath and stared out across the sun-splashed lawn. “We covered it over because it’s where my sister drowned.”
“She drowned?”
“When she was six. It was a long time ago.” Nathan felt hot and knew color was seeping up his neck. He should have kept his mouth shut.
Lisa stared at him, a range of emotions he couldn’t decipher playing across her pretty face. He knew she had questions, but he hoped with everything inside of him that she wouldn’t ask any. He’d said too much already. “That’s very sad,” she finally said, and reached over and stroked his hand.
He jerked back, but only because it was so unexpected. “We don’t talk about it,” he said, regretting pulling away from her.
She didn’t seem to be bothered by his rejection. The koi thrashed at the pond’s surface, and Nathan watched Lisa’s reflection undulate in the water. He saw something on her face that he couldn’t describe but that spoke to his heart. Sadness? Understanding? More than anything, he wanted to put his arms around her, hold her close. He could have spent forever next to her, imagining her in his arms with this mysterious thread somehow connecting them.
“Forever” ended abruptly when Skeet crashed through the foliage. “There you guys are! Jodie thought you’d run off and left her.” His pique turned to apology when he looked at their faces. “Sorry, dude.”
Lisa jumped up. “I’ve got to get home too.”
The three of them hurried back to the garage, and Jodie looked relieved when she saw them. Larry was long gone. Dusk had fallen and the driveway was dark. Nathan turned on a light and watched the girls climb onto the Harley. “You sing great, Jodie,” he called out. “Next week again, you hear?”
“I’ll be here,” Jodie said.
“You can come too,” he said to Lisa.
“I’ll bring Jodie, but I can’t stay.” Lisa was back to her cool, elusive self.
A wind had kicked up and Nathan watched them drive off, feeling as cold and scattered as the dry leaves tumbling around his feet.
Lisa eased into the dark apartment. “Mom?” No answer. Then she remembered it was bingo night at the Catholic church. Her mother wasn’t Catholic, but she loved bingo.
“Lisa? Back here,” Charlie called.
She flipped on a lamp, tossed her book bag on the sofa and went down the hall to the apartment’s third bedroom, where Charlie had set up the television, DVD, his recliner and an over-the-hill couch. He muted the TV with the remote control and waved her over. He was freshly showered, his long hair pulled back in a ponytail. He smelled of leather and lime soap. “I made some soup for us,” he said. “It’s on the stove. You hungry?”
“Jodie and I stopped for a burger.”
“How’d her audition go?”
“She wowed them.”
Charlie grinned. “So you were right about them needing her, weren’t you?”
Lisa tugged off her boots, propped her feet on the old scarred coffee table. “They asked her back next week.”
“They any good?”
“They’ve got a ways to go before they can play in public.”
“And the young man?”
“What about him?” She kept seeing Nathan’s face, almost expressionless, when he told her about his drowned sister. Lisa was intensely curious about it, but knew how it felt to have someone pile on questions you didn’t want to answer. Some secrets were best left buried.
“You still like him?”
“I don’t like anybody, Charlie. Not in the way you’re thinking. You know I can’t.”
“That’s all in your head, little girl. You told me you wanted to try out everything, remember? Well, loving somebody is part of the trying-out business.”
“Not for me.” She stared at the figures on TV, characters running around wildly in some movie, looking extremely stupid without a sound track. “Why do you stay, Charlie? Mom’s never here. I’m—well, you know how I am. Why do you waste your time on us?”
“Your mom’s not a strong person, Lisa,” Charlie drawled after a minute of reflection. “Not all her fault,” he added. “Life’s just worn her down. You and me are strong. So we pick up the slack, make it easier for those who aren’t strong. This young man—”
“N
athan Malone,” she said, hating to say his name because a name made a person real. It breathed life into someone who otherwise remained in the shadows.
“This Nathan, is he strong?”
She thought about that, about the way he’d looked at her when she told him to get off her bike that night in the woods, about how he’d cornered her in the parking lot and forced her to listen to him, about the look on his face when he’d told her about his sister. “He doesn’t discourage easily. Yes, he’s strong.”
Charlie leaned back in his recliner. “That’s good, Lisa. ’Cause you’re going to need a strong one.”
The Saturday jam sessions proved to be the highlight of Nathan’s weeks. Not only was their band improving, their sound maturing, but it was also when he could see Lisa without the clutter of the classroom surrounding them. She had proven standoffish, and he’d been unable to connect with her as he had that night in the bookstore or the afternoon by the koi pond. Every day she rushed out of Fuller’s class, offering Nathan a breezy goodbye, acting as if they’d never shared a moment together. On Saturdays, she brought Jodie to Nathan’s garage and either waited for her to finish or left and returned for her later. By November, when the first cold snap hit Atlanta, Nathan was desperate to be alone with her again.
“Keep Jodie and Larry busy,” Nathan instructed Skeet one Saturday before the others arrived.
“How?”
“Figure it out. I want to get Lisa off to myself for a little while.”
“You’ve been making cow eyes at her for a month and she hasn’t taken the hint,” Skeet said. “What makes you think a few minutes alone with her today will make a difference?”
“If I wanted an argument, I’d have asked my mother,” Nathan growled. “She’s out with the twins. Dad’s playing golf. I want a chance to be alone with Lisa. Are you going to help me or not?”
Skeet bowed from the waist. “I’m your servant.”
The practice went well, and as soon as it was over, Skeet stepped up to Jodie. “Hey, can you and Larry take a sec to go over some parts of the last number with me?”
“What about Nathan?” Jodie asked.
“Don’t need him for this.”
Nathan set his guitar aside. “Mom left a plateful of cookies for us in the kitchen.”
Larry whooped. “I love your mother’s cookies!”
“It’s cold out here,” Lisa said. She’d been sitting in an old lawn chair, flipping through a magazine.
“I’ll brew some hot chocolate,” Nathan said.
“That would be good,” Jodie said eagerly.
Nathan turned to Lisa. “Could you help me carry stuff?”
She hesitated, but Jodie gave her a pleading look. “All right,” she said, not sounding happy about it. She followed Nathan indoors.
The kitchen looked spotless, and the smell of chocolate chip cookies spiced the air. Nathan pulled a gallon of milk from the refrigerator and poured some into a pan, rummaged in the pantry for cocoa and sugar, all the while maintaining a stream of conversation. “You were right about Jodie. She’s great. Larry’s talking about getting us a gig or two for the holidays. He has connections from his old days and we think we might give it a try—”
“Nathan, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk me to death. I don’t mind helping you with the food. I don’t mind being alone with you.”
He was glad for the dim light. She couldn’t see how embarrassed her words made him feel. He put the pan of milk on the stove and turned on the gas burner. “Okay, you found me out. I do want to be alone with you.”
“Why?”
“Because you never even look my way at school.”
She crossed her arms. “It’s nothing personal.”
He forced a laugh. “Well, it feels personal. It feels like you think there’s something wrong with me. Like I’m not worth another conversation, or another cup of coffee. Why can’t you stand being alone with me?”
“That isn’t true.”
“Then why can’t we be friends?”
“We are. I found your band a singer, didn’t I?”
“You did that for Jodie. The fact that she helps our band is bonus points. Not all of us are projects for Lisa to manage, you know. What do you get out of it?”
“I—it’s complicated. My life is complicated.”
“How so? Have you got a job?” She shook her head. “Then what? You don’t have curfews. You cut school at will. You don’t hang with anyone. What’s complicated?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because you care. You stand up for me and Skeet to a guy like Roddy. You become an advocate for a girl like Jodie. Your ‘I don’t give a damn’ routine doesn’t hold up with me.”
“I’ll work on it.” She looked shaken, tried to brush past him.
He caught her arm. “Not so fast.” And before he could stop himself, he’d pulled her against his chest and kissed her full and hard on the mouth. She fought him at first, but he didn’t let go, and as the kiss lengthened, it deepened. His blood sang in his head, tore through his veins like wildfire. He raised his hands and cupped her face, pushed his tongue between her lips. She didn’t resist, but put her arms around him and kissed him willingly.
The hiss of milk boiling over on the stove was what finally seeped through Nathan’s consciousness and broke them apart. They stood staring at each other while the milk sizzled and a burning smell singed the air. Nathan’s hands were shaking and his heart was almost jumping from his chest. Lisa’s eyes looked huge and deep. Her breath was ragged and louder than the boiling milk. She stepped backward, turned to the stove and shut off the flame. “It’s a mess,” she mumbled, and he was certain that she wasn’t talking only about the burned milk.
He came up behind her, wanting to touch her, hold her, but she sidestepped him. “Don’t,” she said.
Nathan walked across the floor to the kitchen island. He rested his palms on the cool granite, licked his lips, and tasted her all over again. “I’m not sorry,” he said.
“Nothing’s changed,” she said, sounding stubborn.
Her words wounded him. He’d put himself on the line with that kiss, opened his heart and invited her inside, and now she was pulling back. Again. “Sure it has.” He crossed to the refrigerator. “We have to heat more milk.”
*
There were only three days of school the following week because of Thanksgiving. Lisa missed the first two and on the third slipped into her seat in Fuller’s class just as the bell rang. Nathan ached with frustration. Had she not come to school simply to avoid him? He’d thought about calling her but kept losing his nerve. Plus, there was no listing for her in the phone book. Better to deal with her face to face. But at the moment, he was staring at her back and Fuller was talking about poets Nathan had no interest in. Lisa lifted her hair and gathered it into a barrette, and Nathan was left to stare at the nape of her beautiful neck. He wanted to put his hands around her neck and shout, Don’t you know you’re making me crazy!
“… poets today have difficulty being heard because poetry has few advocates in today’s world,” Fuller was saying.
Nathan squinted at the base of Lisa’s neck, where a tiny grid of blue dots disappeared into her hairline. Had she started a tattoo and then changed her mind? He’d always wanted one, but never had the courage to get one. His mother would have hit the roof and grounded him for life if he had. But Lisa—well, she apparently could do whatever she wanted.
“… read a nice piece of work to you today.” Fuller’s voice broke through Nathan’s thoughts. “It’s a love poem by one of our own and resonates without being cloying. I thought it quite good. It was written by student seven-oh-five.”
Nathan’s heart seized.
Nathan heard shoes shuffle, papers rustle. Usually Fuller called out every number except Nathan’s, and he read student 454’s work more often than any other. Nathan slumped low in his desk chair, cut his eyes sideways, wondered if he was wearing a sign announcing, LOOK HERE! I�
��M STUDENT 705! He sure hoped not. He’d tried for weeks to write well enough to be picked, but his work always came back swimming in red ink. According to Fuller, it lacked originality. It lacked conviction. He scribbled, “You write well, but it feels forced and dry”—whatever that meant. And now today, while Nathan was in total turmoil because of Lisa, Fuller had discovered something worthy to be read aloud. His stomach tightened.
Fuller cleared his throat and began reading Nathan’s work.
“I stand and watch you from afar.
I wish upon you, like a star.
You see me not.
You come.
You go.
Still, I love you better than you know.”
Fuller lowered the paper and a girl on the side of the room said, “That’s just so romantic.”
“Why?” Fuller asked.
Nathan’s ears felt on fire. He slunk lower in his seat. He’d written the poem late one night when he’d been longing for Lisa. The words had come quickly, easily, like water from a faucet. He’d been nuts to turn it in as an assignment.
No one spoke, and Fuller said, “It’s short and to the point. And we like it because it came from the writer’s heart, not his head. And that, my future Writers of America, is where all good writing comes from—a person’s heart. And once you tap into it, your work will come alive. Trust me.”
Nathan left the room slowly that day, not wanting to talk to anyone, especially Lisa, because he was certain he was wearing the poem’s authorship across his face like a billboard. He was suddenly glad about the long holiday weekend. He and Skeet hadn’t scheduled practice either. It meant four days without seeing Lisa. Four days. Ninety-six hours. Five thousand, seven hundred and sixty minutes to distance himself from the confession of his heart, now made public.
*
On Friday afternoon Skeet came over and asked, “Can I borrow your wheels to go see Jodie?”
Nathan was shooting baskets in the driveway. “Why?”
“I want to see her.”
Nathan stopped mid-dribble, tucked the ball under his arm and stared hard at his friend. “You got something going with Jodie?”
Skeet’s face turned beet red. “We—um—have been talking on our cells and seeing each other at school.”
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