The Boy on the Bridge

by Sam Mariano

  She holds up a hand, recovered from her surprise and trying to let me off the hook. “I know.”

  “I’m sorry. That came out so mean,” I say, looking down at my lap.

  “I understand what you meant. You don’t just want to go to the mall, you want to… go with him.”

  “And Sara,” I add, but with little effort. She knows Hunter is the one I really want to hang out with this weekend.

  Mom sighs, looking at the dinner table as she processes. “Who all will be there?”

  “Me and Sara, Hunter and Wally, and then a couple more of his friends, he didn’t say who. His mom’s going to drive.”

  “She can drive them. I’ll drive you and Sara.”

  I brighten. “Does that mean I can go?”

  I can tell she’s dreading it, so instead of saying yes, she looks at me across the table. “You’re too young to start dating.”

  I freeze, and my face flames. “I’m not dating.”

  “I know, I’m just putting it out there. Obviously, you like this boy. That’s perfectly okay. He might like you, too—but you’re too young for a boyfriend. You’re too young for a lot of things, and I’m worried that you and this boy… you might not be on the same page. He hangs out with a different crowd. He’s a jock, which tends to mean something at your age,” she says, rolling her eyes and sighing. “He has rich parents and popular friends, and his values might differ significantly from yours. I don’t want you to lose who you are over some boy. I know everyone makes mistakes, it’s part of growing up, but I just have a feeling about this boy, honey. Call it mother’s intuition. I don’t think he’s someone you should be spending your time with.”

  Crossing my arms defensively, I tell her, “You don’t even know him.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. I only know what I’ve seen and what I’ve heard, but frankly, that’s enough to give me doubts. You are my only concern.” She reaches a hand across the table in my direction, but I keep my arms crossed. “If you want to go to the mall with him and his friends this weekend, you can. But please be careful. Some people can look really good on the surface, but when you look closer, you see… maybe they’re not so good.”

  “He is good,” I say stubbornly, despite my prior belief that he was a jerk.

  Mom presses her lips together grimly and leans back in her chair. I can tell she wants to say something, but she refrains. “All right. Well, I trust your judgment. If that judgment changes as you collect more information about him, I’ll trust that, too. Just pay attention to how you feel when you’re around him. I don’t mean… the fun, smitten feeling, but a few layers deeper. You should feel comfortable with your friends, so if your instincts start to kick up doubt about his intentions, make sure you pay attention to that. If anything he does starts making you uncomfortable, get out of there. Remove yourself from the situation immediately. If he pressures you to do anything you don’t want to do, you tell him no, and if he doesn’t listen, kick him right between the legs.”

  Mortified, I cover my face with my hands. “Oh my God, Mom.”

  “Or knee him. A good knee to the crotch works nicely.”

  “Please stop.”

  She doesn’t. “Hitting him in the Adam’s apple with your open palm might work, too. Depending on your positioning, that could be hard, but you can also use the palm of your hand to hit him really hard in the nose. You might break it, you might make him cry—whatever happens, I promise he’ll be too distracted to keep doing whatever he was doing to make you uncomfortable,” she adds. “Just pow! and then run like the wind.”

  “I’m uncomfortable now. If I ram you in the nose, can I run away from this conversation?”

  She ignores me. “If all else fails, scream bloody murder. Don’t worry about making a scene and embarrassing anyone else. Make a scene.”

  “I will literally pay you to stop talking.”

  When I move my hands from my face, Mom’s grinning. “I’ve seen your savings account, kid; you can’t afford to silence me.”

  Chapter Four

  My mom slows to a stop in front of the entrance to the food court. She puts the car in park, glances at the entrance to the mall, then looks into the back seat where Sara and I are.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you in?” she asks.

  “I’m positive,” I assure her.

  “I could. I saw a good parking spot. Just say the word.”

  “Honestly, Michelle, no one brings their mom to the mall on group hangs,” Sara tells her, glancing anxiously at the mall entrance. Knowing Wally would be here, she agonized endlessly over what to wear to the mall today. I can tell now she’s impatient about getting inside.

  Mom nods, sighs, and looks over at me. “You have the money I gave you for food and stuff?”

  I pat my purse where I tucked the twenty-dollar bill she gave me before we left the house. “In here.”

  “And your cell phone?”

  I know my mom really must be worried about me hanging out with Hunter because the day after she told me I could come this weekend, she took me to get my own cell phone. She tried to play it off, saying it was probably time for it anyway, but I really wish I knew how to set her mind at ease about Hunter. She has such a wrong impression of him.

  “Got it,” I confirm.

  “Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”

  I nod, glancing over at Sara as she scoots practically on top of me, trying to push me out of the car. “I will,” I promise my mom as I pull the latch and open the door. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Call me when things are winding down and I need to come pick you up,” she calls, leaning back and watching me get out of the car.

  “I will. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Sara climbs out behind me, vibrating with excitement. She calls a quick “bye” to my mom then practically mows over me. “Come on, come on, come on!”

  I grin, sliding my purse strap over my shoulder and following her into the food court.

  Although I have a phone now, I don’t have Hunter’s number, so I can’t text him to see where they are. He said to meet them in the food court at three, so we just have to walk around and look.

  My mom texts me from the parking lot like a crazy person, wanting to make sure I’ve found him. I’m just about to text back “not yet” when I spot him.

  Sara spots them at the same time. I hear her gasp, followed by, “There he is!”

  Of course out of the whole crew, she only sees the boy she likes.

  I am not as lucky. Before my eyes settle on Hunter, they wander around the table to see who else he brought. By the time my gaze makes it back to him, I’m a tad less pleased, but then I see he’s walking in our direction.

  We start walking, too, so we can meet them halfway. I’m suddenly self-conscious for a split second, wondering if I look okay. I shake it off and force a smile, even though the friend group he brought doesn’t fill me with excitement.

  At least he looks genuinely happy to see me. His smile is all for me as he approaches, his eyes never leaving me. “Hey.”

  “Hi,” I say, my smile widening and coming a little more easily.

  His gaze moves to my friend. “You must be Sara.”

  She dims ever so slightly at the subtle way he tells her he didn’t even know who she was before she walked in with me. We’ve all gone to school together for years. She rallies right back though, offering him a big, fan-like smile. “Hey, Hunter.”

  He doesn’t bat an eye at her casual admission that she definitely knows who he is; he already knows she does.

  Discomfort trickles through me, but before I can fully process why, Hunter slings his arm around my shoulder and my capacity for thought shrinks. He’s so close and he has his arm around me—where people can see, too.

  Maybe he’s making a statement. I guess we’ve only ever interacted with each other when we were alone until now, but his friends are here today and I already know they’re not
impressed with me, hence his suggestion that I get new clothes.

  They may not be impressed with me, but he won’t tolerate them treating me poorly, either—at least, that’s the vibe I get from his arm around my shoulder. It’s casual protection, and even though I think his friends are jerks, it makes me like him even more.

  He keeps his voice low enough to make the comment private, but still playful. “I invited your boyfriend.”

  My gaze snaps to him, my eyes widening slightly. “What? I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Mark with the nice eyes,” he teases.

  I completely forgot that I told him I liked Mark Poplowski. I was pretty sure we both knew I was lying, though, so I don’t know why Hunter thinks I’ll care that he’s here.

  I glance at the table anyway and my face flushes as I notice they’re all watching us. Valerie doesn’t even bother to look away—or hide her confusion—when I catch her staring.

  “What the fuck is this shit?” she asks her friends as we approach.

  I’m still not used to the unabashed swearing—Sara and I just don’t do that—but I’m even more floored by it when I realize the brunette that had initially been turned away when I approached is turned around now and it’s Hunter’s mom.

  Hunter’s mom is at the group hang? What?

  If she’s fazed by Valerie’s mouth, she doesn’t show it. Her smile widens and she flashes me an excited smile like we’re best friends. “Hi, Riley! How are you doing, babe?”

  It’s a stupid first thought to have, but I can’t help thinking that my mom would be so hurt if she knew I wouldn’t let her even walk me in, and apparently Hunter’s mom is shopping with us. I didn’t notice her when I first looked because they’re all sitting and she was turned away. Hunter’s mom is a thin woman and since she’s sitting down, she kinda blended in.

  She’s also much more vibrant here today than the anxious mess I saw at their house trying to wrangle her abusive, dickbag husband.

  The memory of what she allowed to happen to Hunter makes it a little harder to return her greeting with the same enthusiasm.

  “I’m good, thanks. How are you?”

  “Great,” she says, still brightly. “I love to shop, so this is right up my alley. Next time you’re over, I’ll show you my closet. I probably even have a few pieces I don’t wear anymore that you could have.”

  That grabs Valerie’s attention. “She’s been to your house?”

  Valerie’s sidekick pokes her blonde head forward. “If you’re giving away clothes, I volunteer as tribute.”

  My ears perk up. “Hunger Games? I love that book.”

  She looks at me like she didn’t expect me to speak to her. “Oh, no. I just saw the movie.”

  “You should read the books, they’re so good,” I advise.

  “It’s true, she has me reading the first one now,” Hunter states, lending his support to my suggestion. “It’s pretty good.”

  Mark smirks at him. “She has you reading it, huh?”

  Hunter slides him a dead-eyed look. “Don’t worry, Poplowski, we don’t expect you to join our book club; we all know you can’t read.”

  Mark rolls his eyes and Valerie smirks over at him, then looks back at Hunter. Only when she does, my stomach sinks, because I recognize the way she looks at him. It’s the same way I look at him.

  Aw, man. Valerie Johnson has a crush on Hunter, doesn’t she?

  “I want to read it,” Valerie says. “Can I borrow your copy when you’re done, Hunter?”

  “I’m actually reading Riley’s copy.”

  Her smile doesn’t change, but something in her eyes does. It infuriates her that he borrowed my book. Shifting her crazy eyes to me, she says, “Can I borrow it after, Riles?”

  Riles? Also, no. I want to say no. I don’t even like to loan out my books because I’m too afraid other people won’t take care of them. I made an exception for Hunter, but I definitely don’t want to loan it to her. I know beyond a doubt that if I do, I’ll never see it again. I doubt she’ll even read it, either.

  I don’t feel comfortable just saying no, though, so I make up an excuse. “I actually promised it to someone else after Hunter. Sorry.”

  “Oh, one of your other friends?” she asks innocently, cocking her head. “Who are your friends, actually? I literally forgot you go to our school. I must be such an idiot.”

  Hunter’s mom stands, sliding her purse strap over her shoulder and flashing me a smile. “Why don’t we get going, babe? We have so much shopping to do. I’m gonna spoil you rotten.”

  Hunter’s arm drops from my shoulder, and he turns toward Sara. She looks back at me with a flash of excitement before she follows him over to finally get an introduction to Wally. I watch as she beams at him excitedly, as she lights up even more when he nods in acknowledgment and offers back a “Hey.”

  Hunter glances over his shoulder at me. He doesn’t say anything with words, just gives me a speaking look before taking off with his friends—and the only one I have.

  I frown at Venus as she starts to walk, seemingly expecting me to follow. “Wait, they’re all going in the other direction.”

  She glances at her son and his friends, then back at me. “Oh, yeah. Hunter wanted me to help you pick out some clothes first, then you can catch up to them and I’ll get lost for a little while. Sound good?”

  I frown, looking over my shoulder. Sara is walking next to Wally, looking up at him with stars in her eyes while he talks to her. Valerie Johnson has sidled up next to Hunter and she casts him a fawning look, too.

  This sucks. I can’t believe he just ditched me with his mom and went off with his friends.

  My sigh comes out as more of a huff, but I turn my attention back to his mom. “I don’t know what Hunter told you. My mom only sent me with $20 for spending money, I can’t really…”

  “Oh, no, honey, it’s on me,” she says dismissively as I fall into step beside her. “I’m so sorry about the other day. That was definitely not the first impression I would’ve liked to make on one of Hunter’s friends. My husband… he’s volatile, especially when he drinks. I always tend to go for those volatile messes. I’d advise you not to follow in my footsteps, but I see the way you look at my son.”

  My cheeks flame, even though she said it playfully. “I don’t think Hunter’s that volatile,” I mutter.

  “That’s because you haven’t made it onto his bad side yet. Hopefully you never will, but I’m sure you’ll see other people get there. No one can hold a grudge quite like my son.”

  She looks over at me like we’re girlfriends shopping together instead of an adult shopping with her kid’s friend. I don’t really know what to say, so she goes on.

  “He takes after his dad a lot. That man ran hot and cold. Either he was volcanic, or a complete iceberg. When his love was flowing over me, it was the greatest thing I’d ever felt, but when he turns on you… oof. Not good,” she says, shaking her head.

  “Hunter hasn’t really turned on anyone, has he?”

  Her eyebrows rise like she’s surprised I’m so out of the loop. “Don’t you remember Marshall Gough? He was Hunter’s best friend in elementary school.”

  “Vaguely. Didn’t he move a couple years ago?”

  I think he used to be one of the popular kids, but I had forgotten about Marshall Gough until she mentioned him. We were all in the same fifth grade class together, but I only ever spoke to him once—and it almost got me in trouble.

  Marshall was something of a class clown, and one day during science he earned a few chortles with some dumb comment about how the planetary nebula we were studying looked like a woman’s vagina. He was sitting at my table between Hunter and me, and since I was not one of the chortlers, I guess Marshall felt the need to convince me. He started tracing the picture in our textbook with his fingertip and saying things like “See it now? You’ve got one, you should recognize it.”

  Since the jerk wouldn’t stop talking to me and he was embarrassing m
e, I told him to leave me alone and pay attention. That’s all I said, but I happened to say it when the teacher was looking at our table. Mr. Branch snapped, looking directly at me, and my heart plummeted. I thought I was going to get in trouble for talking when I wasn’t supposed to be, but at the last moment he changed his mind and his gaze shifted to Marshall for the verbal warning.

  Venus nods. “He and Hunter had a falling out. Things got so bad for him at school, his mother decided to pull him out. She open-enrolled him somewhere else for middle school so he could have a fresh start.”

  I can only stare at her as she says this like it’s acceptable. “What do you mean it got so bad? Like, Hunter… bullied him?”

  “I wouldn’t say bullied,” she says, her tone rising by a couple octaves. “Hunter’s just… he can be a little intense if you cross him. Like his father,” she adds, like that helps. “His father pretty much ruined my modeling career just because his fiancée found out about us and left him. It wasn’t my fault. He’s the one who initiated things between us, and stronger women than me couldn’t resist that bastard, but at the end of the day, I was the one he punished.” Looking over at me with wide eyes, she adds, “And she came back, so I don’t know what he was so upset about.”

  It’s all I can do to keep my jaw from dropping open as she says all this to me like it’s perfectly normal. My mom and I have a very open and honest relationship, but my mom isn’t nearly as scandalous as Hunter’s. I don’t even know how to process what she said, let alone respond to it.

  Seeming to sense she’s over sharing, she waves away that conversation. “Anyway, let’s not focus on all that unpleasantness. We’re here to shop. Do you know what kind of look you want to go for?”

  I shake my head, glancing down at my clothes. I’m wearing light denim jeans and a plain T-shirt. “Not really. I can’t take home a whole wardrobe or anything, though. My mom will flip.”