“Not really. Well, sometimes, maybe. I know they had their reasons, but I wonder if my birth parents wonder about me, if you know what I mean. And I’ve been pretty happy so far. Other than inflicting Eve on me, my parents have been fine. I can’t complain.” She seemed contented by that answer.
“How about you? Why do you try to get a rise out of your dad?”
“It’s just a game I started a couple of years ago. I don’t know why I started, really. He’s always been so hard to surprise. I guess I wanted to see if I could freak him out. It’s kind of pointless; I’ll never do anything crazy enough to actually bother him, and as long as I don’t, he doesn’t care.”
“Not even going out with a Chevy-loving Asian?”
She scooted forward so she could turn all the way around this time. “That’s not what you think, is it? ’Cause I wouldn’t do that to you. You know that, right?”
“Of course. I was just joking around.” I stared into her green eyes, and at that moment I was one hundred percent sure she was speaking the truth. Which was going to make telling her I was taking someone else to the dance even more difficult. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to take her in my arms and kiss her, but I had to tell her about the dance first. I was about to do just that when a strategically lobbed wet volleyball landed between us.
“Hello? Wake up! Get out here, it’s your serve.”
It would have to wait. We dove into the pool and spent the rest of the afternoon playing volleyball under the Texas sun.
Chapter 19
By Tuesday, neither Becky nor Monica had a date to the dance, and they were getting antsy. By this point I knew Richard had no intention of asking Becky to the dance. I didn’t think he had asked anyone else yet either, so I figured maybe I could convince him to ask her anyway, to save me.
I had no idea what Monica was waiting for. It was painfully obvious that she liked to dance, so it wasn’t that. And it sure wasn’t her looks, because she was the proverbial blonde bombshell and I knew of at least half a dozen guys who had asked her out. She shot them all down. I wondered if she had to stay home and watch her sister or something. Her mom was single and worked long hours, which often left Monica stuck at home playing mom.
At lunch, I was caught by an out-of-breath Richard. He pulled me aside before we made it out to the quad. I knew where his last class was, and he must have run the whole way to intercept me.
“Hey, dude, so when are you going to ask her?” Richard’s hands were on his hips and he was leaning forward a little, breathing hard.
“Ask who what?” Oh, man, not him too.
“Becky to the dance! Please, for my sake. She’s been driving me crazy. It’s Tuesday. I wouldn’t wait too much longer, man. The dance is this weekend.”
“I wasn’t going to,” I said, trying to sound casual.
He let out one huge breath and straightened up. “Thanks! So, you’ll ask her at lunch, right?”
“No, I meant I wasn’t going to ask her to the dance.”
He stared at me for a second as he digested my response. “Dude, I know you’re straight, ’cause I see the way you look at her.” He paused, then added, “Come to think of it, I’ve seen the way you look at Savannah. Not that I blame you. I mean, you gotta admit that girl is fine.”
“Yeah.”
“Too bad she’s such a bitch.”
“Yeah, it kind of is.”
“But anyway. Becky. Dude. She’s at least as hot as Savannah, and way cooler. And you seem to be into her.”
“Yeah, I guess I am.” I agreed that Becky was hotter than Savannah, and there was no doubt in my mind who I’d rather spend time with.
“But you’re not going to ask her?”
“I can’t.”
He looked up at the sky and blew out a breath. “Oh, okay, I get it. Left your true love back in California? Dude, it’s high school. Get over it. Trust me; whoever she is, she’s gotten over you.”
“No, it’s not that. I don’t have a girlfriend back there.” I hoped that didn’t sound too pathetic. To be safe, I added, “Not anymore.”
“So what is it? I mean, I don’t want to get all girl-talky, but seriously. Becky is hot, she plays video games, she’s nice, she likes you—damn, she’s even rich! Ask her already.”
“Rich?” All the other attributes registered as true. I guess rich fit as well; her car and house were certainly nice enough.
“Well, maybe not rich, but her family has money. Her daddy owns the car dealership, and you saw her house.”
The town only had one car dealer, Bailey Ford. Becky Bailey. I got it now. I couldn’t believe I was that slow. “Yeah, she’s perfect. I know. Trust me, I know. You don’t need to convince me.”
“So what’s up? Just go ask her.”
“I kind of thought you liked her. I didn’t want to be a dick.” I didn’t believe that anymore, but maybe Richard would buy it. And even if he didn’t, if I stalled long enough, I might have time to think of a better excuse.
“And you were backing off for that? Dude, are you serious? You weren’t asking her ’cause you thought I was into her? I’m a great guy and all, but even I would rather be with her than me.”
“So why aren’t you then?” I asked, genuinely interested.
“She’s like my sister! I’ve known her since I was five. My dad has been the service manager at the dealership forever. I pretty much grew up with her. Our dads would bring us to work in the summers, and we’d spend all day hanging out there terrorizing the sales guys.”
“Oh.” That was good. It would have been easier if he did like her, but I was happy to confirm he didn’t.
“And, well, I thought maybe she was using me.” When I said it out loud, it sounded lame.
“Dude, half the school would sell their left nut to be used by her! What are you talking about?”
“She always talks about finding ways to mess with her dad. I thought that she wanted to date me, you know, just to tick him off. Because I’m Asian.” After meeting Mr. Bailey yesterday, I knew that wasn’t true.
He laughed. “Nah, she tried that already with me last year. It didn’t work.”
I looked at him.
“Relax. It’s not as bad as it sounds. Becky wouldn’t use anyone for real. She asked me if I would pretend to go out with her because she wanted to see what her dad would do. So I did. He was cool with it. Though I think he was on to her, because after a while he started talking about how happy he was going to be to have me in the family and how I was like a son to him anyway, and this would make it official.
“Becky was the one that ended up freaking out. The idea was too weird for either of us. Like I said, I love the girl, just not in that way.”
“Yeah, I know now that she wouldn’t do that. I mean, she wouldn’t use me to get to her dad.”
Richard nodded. “That’s another nice thing about Becky: she won’t lie to you. Seriously, dude, ask her. Don’t worry about me! She’s not even my type. I like girls that are more, you know, manageable. Not quite as, what’s that word? Explosive? Fiery?”
“Volatile?”
“Yeah, that’s it! I like ’em more low key, and maybe not as smart, you know?”
A light went on as my lone working synapse fired. “So you do like Monica.” I was slow on the uptake sometimes. But now it made sense, Richard doing stuff like lying about his truck being broken so he could catch a ride with Becky, Monica and me.
Oh boy, he thought Monica was more manageable? Poor Richard. At least with Becky, what you see is what you get. With Monica…he was in serious trouble. Especially if he bought that dumb blonde routine. She was one of the smartest people I knew.
I tried to picture them together, with more than one foot and almost two hundred pounds of difference. I grinned at the image. Despite Richard’s size, I thought Monica could take him.
Richard was nervously shifting from one foot to the other. “Look, this isn’t about me, it’s about you. So will you go ask her out already so I can ge
t out of the middle of everything?” I knew Becky had sent him to figure out what was up, and the guy was desperate to bring back good news.
Crap. My world was falling apart. “I told you, I can’t.”
“Dude, why not? She’ll say yes. Trust me. She’s been waiting for you to ask her for two weeks!”
“Um. Well, I…I kind of asked someone else already.”
“Damn.” He glared at me. “Tell me this is your idea of a joke, and you’re just really unfunny.”
I shook my head, wracking my brain for a solution. The best I could hope for was either divine intervention or a zombie apocalypse.
“So who is she? Oh, man, no! Please don’t tell me it’s Savannah. ’Cause it’s bad enough your daddy took Tim’s daddy’s job. If you took his girlfriend too, that boy will kill you,” Richard said, eyebrows halfway up his forehead. Then he took a moment to fully consider the possibility. “Though, if it is Savannah we’re talking about, it might be worth it. But still, Tim already kicked your ass once. Seriously, he’ll kill you.”
“God, no—I remember about Tim and my ass-kicking. It’s not her,” I said.
“So who is it? Jesus, dude, I’m not a chick. I don’t have hours for this kind of stuff! Tell me.”
“It’s kind of complicated.”
He looked shocked. “Mrs. Bower? I mean, yeah, we all want her, bro. But you can’t bring a teacher to a dance.”
“It’s not Mrs. Bower. Though….” Mrs. Bower was the art teacher and was criminally pretty.
“I know, huh?” He smiled and shook his head before getting back on track. “So who is it?”
“Her name’s Rose,” I admitted at last.
He frowned. “The chick from next door?”
“Yeah.”
“The girl you were talking about that lives with Mr. Givens?” He was making sure he got it.
I nodded.
“Cute?”
I nodded again.
“Man, I don’t know if that makes it better or worse. You’re screwed. Becky is awesome, but you haven’t seen her temper. And you guys were getting pretty friendly at her party.”
“I know all about girls’ tempers. Eve’s my sister, remember?”
“No, dude, you have no idea. Eve’s a plotter. She’ll smile at your face, then stab you in the back if she thinks she can get away with it. Becky’s more like a bulldozer. She’ll stab you right in the chest, and then watch you die slowly in front of her. And she won’t care if she does it in a police station parking lot.” Richard looked down at the ground and took a breath. “So when did you ask this Rose chick?”
“Sunday night.”
“Bad timing, man.”
“Trust me, I know. After yesterday’s party, there is no way I would have asked Rose.”
“Let me get this straight. You already knew you had a date to the dance during the party yesterday, but you didn’t tell Becky?” The look on Richard’s face made me think of the whole stabbing metaphor.
“I couldn’t figure out how. Besides, I was kind of having a good time; I didn’t want to ruin it,” I said, feeling even more guilty.
“What, you don’t think she would have let you smother suntan lotion all over her after you dumped her for someone else?” Richard asked facetiously.
“Dude, c’mon, I was never with Becky!”
“Yeah, I know, but girls aren’t like us, dude. They make these things up in their heads, and that’s like reality for them or whatever. She’s going to think you dumped her. It doesn’t matter that you weren’t together with her in the first place.”
“I know.” My shoulders slumped in defeat. Richard was right, of course. Logic just didn’t enter into it when you were dealing with girls and relationships.
“What am I going to tell her?” asked a distraught Richard. He was obviously struggling with a way to break the news to Becky.
“My cousin from California is visiting and my mom made me take her?” I suggested.
“That will hold up until the second your sister opens her mouth. I’ll do what I can, dude. Maybe you can chalk it up to temporary insanity. Or you could ask out Savannah and hope Tim kills you quickly. It would be less painful. And heck, if she said yes, you might get to die a happy man.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Hey, at least you’re going to live longer than me. ’Cause I guarantee they’re gonna shoot the messenger.” Richard sulked off to relay the news.
I made my way over to the wall and sat with Monica and a couple of other kids we usually hung out with. Ten minutes later, there was still no sign of Richard or Becky. I hoped Richard wasn’t lying in the parking lot of the police station.
After five more minutes of no Becky and Richard, Monica looked at me and blew a bubble.
“My fault. I asked someone else to the dance.” Not much else I could say.
She gasped, causing her to suck in the bubble and choke on the gum. When she finished gagging she managed an incredulous, “You what?”
“How was I supposed to know Becky liked me?” I asked, trying to muster as much credibility as I could.
She stared at me with her head tilted for a moment before she said, “Did you, like, seriously just say that?”
“It’s complicated.”
She tilted her head the other way and kept right on staring.
“Yeah, okay, I screwed up.”
Still staring. She was really good at it, apparently.
“Look, I didn’t have a choice. I was kind of…” I was going to say seduced, but I was pretty sure that was not the word I wanted coming out of my mouth right then. “…forced into it by someone.”
“Oh my God! Like some chick grabbed you, tied you up, put a gun to your head, and made you ask her to the dance! That totally happens around here all the time!” She gave me one good glare, then grabbed her stuff and got up. “I have to go find Becky.”
“Monica, wait!”
“What?” She was furious. It was girl solidarity.
“At least ask Richard out. Don’t you guys get all screwed up like me and Becky.”
“What?” She repeated, but in a different tone. She blinked once, and tilted her head again.
This time I returned the stare. “You must know Richard likes you. He wants to ask you out. I don’t know why he hasn’t. Maybe it’s because you’ve turned down all those guys already, and he doesn’t want to be next. So unless you’re not going to the dance because you’re busy or whatever, you should ask him. At least someone would end up going to the dance with the right person.”
“Richard?” She was confused; apparently her who-liked-who radar wasn’t infallible. The tone she used made me even more miserable, like she was suggesting I was crazy for even mentioning him as a possible date.
It looked like I’d screwed up again. I had been positive she liked Richard, or at least liked him well enough to go to the dance with him, but obviously not. Maybe she was more into the Tim Peterson or Trevor type.
It was time for some last-ditch damage control. Maybe I could smooth this over and save myself at the same time. I might not survive if Richard found out I was the one who spilled the news about his unrequited love all over campus.
“Come on, Monica. I know he’s not your type or anything, but give him a break. He’s a good guy. It might be fun just to go as friends or whatever. Besides, it’s not like either of you have a date to the dance yet, so what can it hurt? Or do you have to watch your sister Saturday? Is that why you’re not going?”
“No, that’s not it.” She looked down for a moment then back at me, the breakneck pace of her gum-chewing jaw hinting that she was stewing over something. “You better not be lying to me, Chris. About anything.”
“I’m not lying. Richard likes you. I just don’t think he’s going to ask you out. I think you intimidate him.” I couldn’t help smiling at that.
She almost smiled back. Almost. “And I had better find out you really were tied up and tortured until you asked this other chick to
the dance, or we’ll have words.”
With that warning, she went off in search of Becky, but at least the parting look she gave me wasn’t quite so venomous.
I saw Becky only once that day, in the hall on the way to fifth period. I was going to say hi, but she looked away, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. I felt like a jerk.
I ran into Eve a couple of times as well, but she was too disgusted with me to even be snarky, which was a welcome relief.
That evening at Cooped Up Books, I tried to take my mind off things by thinking about what I might learn from the upcoming visit with Mrs. Brown. She was my best shot at getting the inside story about the history of our ghost.
I went straight home after work, not stopping by Freddy’s Drive-In for my usual drink. I’d already had all the drama I could take for one day.
Unfortunately for me, there was more to come. Apparently girl solidarity extended to the dead. Or maybe our ghost was still upset at what happened at the séance. Whatever the reason, she was back, and she was none too happy. The footsteps woke me up first, but I was so used to them I started immediately drifting back to sleep. The sudden shriek was what finally got me up. It was too real and too familiar to ignore.
I leapt out of bed and rushed into the hall. My parents’ light was out, but a glow shone from under the hall bathroom door.
I crept up to it and listened. Silence. I gently tapped, and heard a clatter of metal behind the door. I tapped again, with more force this time. No answer. I slowly opened the door and peered inside.
A disheveled Eve was standing with her back against a wall. One of her hands was clenched into a fist while the other was splayed out behind her, as if trying to find an escape route through the wall. She looked at me, and I saw an unfamiliar expression on her face: fear. A tube of lipstick rolled on the floor like it had just been dropped.
The reason for Eve’s distress was obvious. Either my sister had taken up graffiti and then suffered an immediate bout of guilt, or the ghost had used the lipstick to write “Mommy” in infantile letters over every surface in the room. Walls, tiles, floor, counter, mirror, toilet—nothing had been spared. Even my sister had been partially tagged, the first three letters smeared across the front of her t-shirt.
The Haunting of Pico (Pico, Texas - Book 1) Page 15