There’s a sudden streak of wetness on the back of my hand and I pull back, surprised. Killer is using me as a licking post.
“Whoa, Killer likes you,” Nick says.
At least someone does. I search for words inside my head to deal with this horrible mess I’ve created.
“She’s a good judge of character,” he adds in a soft voice.
“What did you want from me?” I ask him.
“Uh, you came to my house,” Nick answers.
“I’m not talking about now,” I say. “What do you want to ask me? You keep saying you have something to ask me and then you never do. I thought…” I stop, too humiliated to go on.
He sighs and his hand reaches up and he pushes back his hair. “I wanted to ask you to help. My sister. Well, she has a hard time in school. I can’t afford to get her a tutor and my old man doesn’t give a shit. So, I thought about you. I thought you might want to add tutoring to your school resume, you know. I thought you might tutor her, but then when I found out about your sister, well, I couldn’t ask.”
“Your sister?” I repeat. “The little kid at your house?” No wonder she knew who I was. He told her I would be her friggin’ baby-sitter.
“She’s small but she’s in the seventh grade. I think she has learning disabilities, but we can’t afford to get her tested and the school won’t do it. Not enough funding. It’s always about the money you know. But, I thought maybe you would do it, you know, volunteer hours for your Honor Society.”
I don’t answer, feeling somehow ashamed of my Dad’s overflowing bank account and six-figure job. Getting his sister help wouldn’t be an issue in my family.
“I’m sorry. She looks younger than seventh grade,” I say, instead of apologizing for my family’s wealth. “But I didn’t make it anyway.”
“What?”
“The Honor Society.”
“How could you not make it?”
“Skipping classes. Missing homework. You know, the usual. Anyhow, I don’t think I could help your sister. There’s my sister and then this drawing contest.” I picture his sister’s cute smile and horrible dress and it makes me feel selfish. As if my life is the only thing that matters.
“Drawing contest?” he asks.
It amazes me how much it jazzes me he’s asking about it. No one else bothered to ask. “For contemporary drawing. The Oswald Drawing Prize for emerging artists. It’s friggin’ amazing. There’s a Junior Division for grades nine to twelve and a winner from each state gets art listings across the country and the Grand Champion gets a full scholarship to the Academy of Art University in San Francisco in their graduating year.” The info rambles from my tongue almost as one run-on sentence.
Nick rubs his chin and his eyes show interest. “Wow. I didn’t know you were into art.”
“Totally.”
He nods.
“The winners also get a free trip to San Francisco.”
“Sweet. So, you entered already? For free?”
“No. There’s an entry fee, a few hundred dollars, but my problem is more that I can’t seem to finish. It’s like I’ve been stalled or something. Ever since Kristina, well, I haven’t sent my entry in yet.” I laugh bitterly. “I only have a few days. The entries have to be in soon.”
He runs his hand through his hair. “That’s cool. Really cool.”
Killer rubs against me then and almost knocks me over. I try not to freak out. I have no idea why this dog is taking to me. Dogs usually hate me as much as I hate them.
“Anyhow. Sorry about your sister,” I say. “I just can’t cut it right now.”
“Yeah. That’s too bad. She would like you. I told her about you.”
“Well, maybe I could help,” I mumble, but my voice isn’t very convincing, even to me. Adding tutoring his sister to my plate is too overwhelming to think about.
He shrugs. On the street, a man gets out of a station wagon that’s probably older than my parents and slams the door. He glares at us with distaste and heads up a driveway and then disappears inside the house.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out. You don’t have to say yes to everything, you know. It’s okay to say no.” He puts his arm around my shoulder and squeezes. I want to pretend he’s doing it because he wants to but I know he’s not. It’s patronizing.
“Anyhow. About your question,” he says it with a grin but it quickly fades and he stares at me all serious and remorseful.
“No.” I squirm out from his arm. “Forget it.” My cheeks light up like glow sticks, so I turn away. “I didn’t really mean it. I mean, you know. I’m just having a crappy day and needed some comic relief, so I thought humiliating myself would provide that.”
He takes my hand, folding my fingers inside his bigger ones. I shiver and practically swoon. My insides celebrate the sensation and I have an overwhelming desire to press my body against his, so the whole thing can feel as alive and as wonderful as my hand. The urge makes my cheeks flare brighter.
He holds on to my hand, smiling his lopsided smile. He takes a step toward me so we’re even closer and he leans down so we’re nose to nose. His fingers brush against my cheek and he wipes away a tear I didn’t even know was there. And then he does the strangest thing. He lifts his finger to his mouth and licks my tear. It should be gross, but it’s so sweet that another tear drops from my eyes.
“You taste sad,” he says and then groans. “Man, Tess. You’re just a kid.”
He pulls my body toward his and slides a hand around my waist and it makes me dizzy. His breath on my cheek melts me. I don’t dare move. Or breathe. I want. I want so badly for him to kiss me and I might break into pieces and perish if he doesn’t.
He leans down and his lips, his soft, gentle lips, press against my cheek. My eyes close as I imagine the feeling on my lips. I want to know that feeling.
“Damn,” he whispers and pulls away.
I barely manage to stifle a moan. My eyes are closed and I’m still dizzy. And then I sense him as he leans closer again. I hold my breath. For a brief exquisite moment he presses his lips against mine. Somewhere my brain registers it, but everything is focused on those lips. They’re moist and soft and the feel of them is thrilling. A new, yet somehow familiar, sensation travels all the way through my body as my lips respond to his by instinct. I open them just slightly and his open and my head spins with pleasure. He’s the most exquisite kisser in the entire world. I practically fall against him, weak and infected. I can’t believe this is happening to me. Me!
Then, it happens.
He pulls back.
My eyes open in protest as he takes a step back. I almost cry out. His tongue flicks out as he licks his lips. I lift my fingers to my mouth, jealous.
“Damn,” he says again. “I shouldn’t have done that. You’re just a kid.”
“I’m not a kid,” I reply, but my body betrays me. I’m jumpy with my longing but also shy and afraid. Inexperienced.
“You’re only fifteen,” he says.
“And you’re only eighteen,” I manage to say, sounding much, much braver than I feel.
“Older in more ways than you know, princess. Remember what your sister said. I’m a man-whore.”
Ouch. But it’s true. She did say that. But not with me. I’m not like the other girls. I’m different. Smarter. I think I understand him. I’ve seen his softer side, and Lord knows, he’s seen mine.
He grins and then growls like a cartoon wolf and his smile widens. He crosses his arms and stares down at me, as if he’s challenging me to a duel or something. “So you didn’t really want to ask me out?”
I look at my feet, unable to answer.
“What about your boyfriend?”
This gets my attention and I look up. “My boyfriend?”
“That guy who’s attached to your side, the tall kid with the glasses. He glares at everyone who looks at you.”
“Superman?”A giggle escapes my mouth and I cover it with my hand.
&nbs
p; Nick raises his brows in question.
“Clark Trent, I mean. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend.”
“You sure he knows that?”
Nick stares down at me with an intense look in his blue eyes. I lean forward, trying to give him the hint it’s okay to kiss again, but he steps back and runs his hand through his hair. Killer walks around and sits by his feet and begins panting. Loudly.
“Man, Tess. I can’t do this to you. You don’t know me. I mean, I’m not a good guy when it comes to girls.”
Boy fail. I blink quickly and my back straightens. He doesn’t like me. Before I can stop it, another tear slips out and slides down my cheek. I let it fall without even bothering to wipe it away. I feel like such an incredible idiot and a horrible loser.
“Don’t cry.” He shuffles from one foot to the next and his expression says he would rather be sitting in a dentist’s chair than dealing with me. “You’re a nice kid. You’ve got a tough deal with your sister. I know what it’s like to look for someone to fill up the hole inside you. But I’m not that person. Trust me.”
His eyes plead for understanding but I turn to leave. Killer pokes her nose right in my butt and I squeal. Humiliated and insulted, I flap my hand at her head and she moves back to Nick’s side.
I’m not just a kid, running away from my sister’s cancer. That’s just the way he sees me. He grabs my hand and gently spins me around so I face him again, and he doesn’t let go.
“You want the truth, Tess? I like you. I do. Probably more than I should. But listen. For one, I don’t do relationships. I’m not that kind of guy. And second, I don’t want to get involved in someone’s life. I have enough problems of my own.”
A shock of anger runs through me and my jaws clench. I jerk my hand away. He thinks I’m a bundle of problems? It insults me to the core. Like I’m damaged goods. Not good enough for anyone with my flaws and baggage.
He tries to take my hand again, but I slide it behind my back and move away.
“You can do better than me. You’re brilliant and beautiful,” he says.
“I’m not beautiful,” I say bitterly, not wanting excuses and lies. His words echo. He doesn’t need my problems. No one will want me with my problems.
“You don’t even see it, Tess. I mean it.”
I break away and start to walk as fast as I can, wishing I’d never made the mistake of thinking he was my friend. More.
I want to die. I’m such an idiot. Killer barks and then, with his much longer legs, Nick catches up and is at my side in seconds.
“You have something your sister doesn’t even have, Tess. No offense, you know, with everything that’s happening to Kristina. She was beautiful…”
My jaw snaps and my mouth opens and I stop, freezing in place.
“I mean, she is beautiful.”
I shake my head, insulted now on Kristina’s behalf as well as my own.
“You’ve got something special. You’re not the typical girl. I mean, you look great, but it’s not all you care about. You’ve also got a kicking brain to keep a guy on his toes. And the fact that you’re an artist too. Well, that just rocks.”
It’s flattering and insulting. And I may suck at physical activities, but he’s not exactly an athlete either and my chances of outrunning him are pretty good. It hits me that I’d be faster than Kristina now. For the first time in my life, I’m the sporty sister.
I think about bolting and doubling back later for my bike, but chances are, in this neighborhood, it would get stolen. Even if it is hot pink. Considering it’s my only form of transportation, I don’t really want that to happen. I walk faster.
“Find a guy your own age,” he says. “Someone you have more in common with.”
I snort as a car whizzes past us, windows open, rock music blasting. “Jailbait!” the teenager in the passenger seat yells out the window as they speed down the street.
I can’t decide if I should laugh or cry.
Nick laughs. “See?”
I give him the finger.
“You think I’m kidding? Okay. So what’d you think of my house?” He spits it out, trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s bitterness tainting his voice. “You think your old man wants to shoot a couple of rounds of golf with my old man?”
My pace slows. “I don’t care about your house, Nick.” But uneasiness slinks around my insides. This neighborhood is nothing like the one I live in. And I don’t know what to say about the man who was bellowing from his house. His dad.
“No? Well, I do. I care that I live in an ass shithole and my old man is a drunk. He’s mean. I think my sister was fine until he smacked her around when I wasn’t home to protect her.”
I wince at his acidic voice. He marches on, his legs stiff like a soldier.
“And I’m a jerk, because I still leave her alone with him. That’s what you get with me. A jerk. I learned from the best.”
We walk past another old house, where a couple is yelling at each other. The windows are open and we hear loud, drunk-sounding voices. Nick grins. “Like my neighbors?”
I speed up, not wanting to hear the argument.
“So, speaking of sisters,” he says, his voice still black and twisty. “How’s yours?”
“I don’t want to talk about her,” I say, and press my lips tight, watching another car whizz past. At least this time no one shouts insults.
“No? Well, she’s got it bad for sure, but at least your parents can afford to get her the best care. I’m sure she’ll beat the cancer thing.”
I stare at him, blown away by his insensitivity. “Do you have any idea what’s happening?” I ask. But of course he doesn’t. “She’s going to lose her leg. They’re chopping it off. It doesn’t matter who her doctor is. How can that possibly be okay? How is she supposed to cope with that?”
Nick’s eyes open wider. We eyeball each other and then he drops his gaze first. “Are you serious?”
When I don’t answer, he swears softly under his breath. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize. I mean, I guess I assumed that she would be okay.”
“Why? Because we’re rich? You think that guarantees anything? It doesn’t.”
He nods once. “I guess, right? I never thought of it before. It just seems like things would be so much easier.”
Killer pokes my hand with her snout and I pet her scraggly head. “It’s not. Things are not okay. My best friend hates me and the first boy I ever kissed did it because he pitied me.” My cheeks warm as soon as I realize what I said.
“Me?” Nick asks and glances sideways at me.
I don’t answer.
“I didn’t kiss you because I pity you,” he says.
Killer barks. She wants us to start moving again. Some of my anger melts. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Before he can fumble around trying to make me feel better, I blurt out, “My mom was drunk when I got home from school.” I bite my lip. “She told me she wishes I was the one losing my leg. Not Kristina.”
Nick blows air through his teeth, but there’s no harmony. He looks down at me but keeps moving. “She really said that?”
I nod, struggling to keep my emotions inside.
“She drink a lot?” he asks.
“I’ve never seen her drunk before.”
He laughs, but it’s bitter. “Lucky you. I hardly know what it’s like to see my dad not drunk. Or hungover.” He runs both hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. That’s messed up. I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”
I lift a shoulder. “Kristina had volleyball. My mom thought she was going to go far with it. I’m not the one who uses my legs.”
“That’s crap, Tess.” He gets a weird look on his face, then lunges forward and pulls me into a tight hug. My arms hang stiff, pointing down at my side, but he keeps squeezing hard. It’s not in the least romantic. Finally he lets me go. “Drunk people suck,” he says as he steps back.
Killer barks at a squirrel, but it sounds like she’s agreeing wi
th us. We both laugh as we head toward his house. He picks up my bike and holds it for me. My hand brushes his as I grab it and he pulls away, as if touching me is grotesque or something. He’s a weird boy. No wonder I’m crushing on him.
I jump on the bike and start pedaling without saying good-bye. The closer to home, the farther and more surreal my encounter with Nick feels. My first kiss. It was awesome, but it was also…not.
I drag my bike inside the garage and close the door, dreading seeing my mom. When I get inside she’s nowhere around, so I check her bedroom and see a big lump under the bedspread. I go forward and poke to make sure she’s passed out and sleeping and not dead.
When dinnertime comes, Dad isn’t home. I fix myself a peanut butter and banana sandwich and have three glasses of milk and watch the Discovery Channel. When I finally head to bed, Dad is still not home from work.
In the morning, when I’m dressed and go to the kitchen, Mom is already there making freshly squeezed orange juice. She’s wearing yoga pants and a tank top and her hair is pulled high in a ponytail. She’s got on her full makeup.
“Morning, Tess,” she says in a normal tone, but she doesn’t look me in the eye. “Have some of your Cap’n Crunch if you want. I didn’t make a hot breakfast.”
She turns her back to me, wiping down the counter and putting away things. I bite my lip, wondering how to bring last night up. She ignores me, so I get the box of Cap’n Crunch and finish off the last of it while she unloads the dishwasher.
Dad rushes into the kitchen, briefcase in hand. He pecks my mom on the cheek and winks at me. “How’s it going, Tess?”
“Fine, Dad. Great. Couldn’t be better,” I say with as much sarcasm as I can. I want to jump up and down, wave my hands in front of his face, see if he even notices.
“Good. Gotta go.” He kisses Mom again and mumbles something to her about Kristina, and then rushes out the door as fast as he swirled in.
Mom stands at the counter watching him go, her back to me, completely still. She stays like that for a moment, and then begins wiping down the counter like it’s the most important thing in the world.
“Will you come to the hospital after school?” she says. “Kristina’s going to need us.” Her voice is tight and quivery, as if she’s holding in tears. She doesn’t stop scrubbing.
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