“You need to stop growin’,” she says as she releases me, holding me at arm’s length. “It seems like just yesterday you and Jackie were this tall.”
“I don’t even remember those days,” I kid with her.
She laughs her throaty laugh.
“Who do we have here?” she asks, looking to where Chris stands awkwardly in the foyer.
“You know Chris Myers from church?”
“That you, little Christian?” She waddles over to him and crushes him next.
His eyes are wide as he looks to me, and it’s all I can do to keep from laughing.
“Good to see you,” he tells her.
“You look just like your mama,” Nana Stephenson says, pinching his cheek.
“Thanks.” Chris smiles at her.
“Good Lord, what happened to your face?”
“It’s a long story.” He laughs nervously.
“Well, the rest of the young’uns are in the livin’ room. You two go join ‘em, and supper will be ready in just a little bit.”
“Yes, ma’am,” we say in unison.
I lead Chris down the hallway.
“I think my ribs are cracked,” he whispers.
I can’t hold in the laugh this time. I’m still smiling when we enter the living room.
“There you are.” Jackie looks up from the couch. “I was starting to think you died.”
“Nah, you’d be the first to know when that happens,” I joke. “I think you’re listed as my emergency contact.”
“Perfect,” she murmurs, turning her attention back to the card game being played on the coffee table.
Entering the Stephenson’s living room is like taking a step back in time. The wooden paneling on the walls is dark and absorbs all the light in the room. A mismatched assortment of furniture spreads across the floor, and Papa Stephenson’s collection of antique coo-coo clocks cover one of the walls. Every hour is a symphony of bells and chimes. The television, which is one of those old-school, huge monsters that predates anything plasma or flat screen, flickers pretty bad. But Jackie managed to hook up an Apple TV, so we can stream Netflix.
I relish the familiar, musty smell.
It’s one of my favorite places in the world.
“Hey, Tanner,” I call over.
He sits in one of the cracked leather chairs, laptop balanced on his legs as he types furiously. He waves without looking up.
Tabby Freeman is perched on the arm rest, looking over his shoulder as he types. She’s actually kind of pretty when not wearing her school uniform. And as long as she keeps her mouth closed.
The rest of our rotating lunch table is here too—Mark Routon, Taylor Shay, Larry Fletcher, and Katie Reese. They’re not exactly my friends, but Jackie tends to attract a variety of people, so I know them all by association. I don’t think a single one of them has ever invited me to do anything outside of school unless I’m Jackie’s plus one. And, to be quite honest, I’m okay with that. The fewer people I spend time with, the less of a chance someone will figure out my secret.
“All right make room!” I step over Katie and flop onto the floor next to Jackie as I wrap her neck in a hug. “Happy birthday, slut face.”
“Thanks, ass hat,” she replies, tickling my ribs.
I yelp, and laughter spreads through the group. Chris sinks down at the coffee table across from me, looking very uncomfortable. I give him a smile.
“What are we playing?” I ask, looking at the strange black and white cards.
“Cards Against Humanity,” says Mark, holding his own hand of the white cards. “It’s hilarious.”
“Is that so?” I peek over at Jackie’s hand, heat rising to my cheeks.
“Don’t be so bashful, Mike!” teases Larry, flipping over a black card and reading it aloud. “All right, everyone. Why am I sticky?”
Katie leans over to Chris, whispering, “Now, we pick the best card that goes with that question,” she explains.
She’s always making sure everyone is included. Katie might be the nicest person I know.
Each player lays down a card in a stack. Larry shuffles them together then starts to read them aloud.
“Why am I sticky? We have, flying sex snakes. Classic.”
Giggles spread like rippling water through the group.
“Next, we have, Michelle Obama’s arms. That’s not right. She’s like my second mom.”
“Don’t ever say that around my parents,” says Taylor, clutching his shoulder.
They’re newly a couple, and I can’t imagine her parents are keen on the idea of her dating a black guy that’s also a democrat. He can be one or the other, but heaven forbid both.
“Third, we have incest. You guys just ain’t right.”
Another round of laughter.
“And last, but not least, anal orgasms. Wow.”
“You’d know all about those, wouldn’t you, Larry?” Mark laughs.
“At least I have a girlfriend, Marky Mark.”
The friendly argument quickly devolves into the two of them wrestling each other on the floor, laughing and tumbling over one another. I roll my eyes in exasperation.
“Hey! If you break something, you’re going to have to explain yourselves to my nana!” Jackie warns.
The two of the separate, still laughing.
“Who won, Larry?” Taylor asks, batting her eyelashes.
“The award goes to Anal Orgasms.” he says, raising it high in the air like a champion celebrating victory.
“Yes!” Jackie snatches the black card from the table. “And the birthday girl retains her title!”
A collective groan resounds as everyone tosses their cards into a pile.
“Why am I not surprised you own at this game?” I tug on Jackie’s sleeve.
“Because I win at everything?” she replies, giving me a coy smile. “Well, everything that doesn’t include killing zombies.”
“All right, kids!” Nana Stephenson’s voice echoes from down the hall. “Come and get it!”
The room devolves into chaos before we manage to fall into a single file herd toward the kitchen.
“I didn’t think Chris was going to show,” Jackie whispers to me.
We’re close to the back of the line.
“Did he give you a ride?”
“Yeah.” I keep my voice nonchalant. There’s nothing weird about sharing a car with another guy, especially when she knows I can’t drive. “I was helping him with some homework, and he asked if I wanted to carpool.”
“You two seem to be spending a considerable amount of time together.”
“So, what?” My heart hammers.
Jackie shrugs her shoulders. “Hey, the more the merrier. Just means more presents for me.”
That’s Jackie. She’s okay with anything as long as she profits.
The kitchen devolves into chaos as we cram nine hungry teenagers into one place. A feast of all Jackie’s favorite foods awaits us. A tray of Chick-fil-A chicken nuggets, Nana Stephenson’s famous mac and cheese, a massive bowl of buttery mashed potatoes, and a loaf of garlic bread. Jackie is a carb girl. On the corner of the counter is an untouched plate of asparagus Nana Stephenson made in case anyone wanted something a little healthier. Needless to say, it remains untouched.
“Lord, Jackie,” Taylor says, scooping potatoes onto her plate. “Are you trying to kill us?”
“Shut up, matchstick girl.” Jackie laughs, squeezing ketchup on top of her mac and cheese.
Chris watches in horror as the tomatoey stream continues.
“Not everyone can live off carrots and diet Coke like you can. Us big girls like to eat real food.”
I’ll never understand girls. Jackie isn’t by any means a big girl, though she calls herself one at least twice a day. And she teases Taylor for being a matchstick, but honestly, they probably weigh the same. Maybe it’s just because Taylor’s a little taller, but I’m still at a loss.
I give Chris a pat on the shoulder. “You get used t
o her after a while,” I whisper.
After everyone has their carbohydrate-loaded plates, we all crowd around Nana Stephenson’s dining table, shoving the small mountain of gifts into the middle. The laughter and chatter continue as we eat.
“Where’s your mom?” I lean over to Jackie as Tanner entertains everyone with a funny video on his laptop.
“She said she had to go run an errand a few hours ago.” Jackie stabs another pile of red-soaked noodles. “If you ask me, it’s really fishy. She’s probably picking up my present.”
“Maybe she got you a car?” I say, but we both start laughing.
“Yeah right.” Jackie giggles. “Maybe it’s a Maserati! We can go cruising!”
“It’s nice to dream.” I chew a hunk of garlic bread.
“Keep dreaming.”
I look over to Chris, who’s nestled between Tanner and Tabby. I have no idea how that happened, but I feel for the poor guy. Knowing those two, they’re probably trying to play footsie under the table, and that makes Chris’s feet collateral damage.
As if on cue, a look of surprise registers on Chris’s face, and he peers under the table.
I join in everyone’s laughter, but for my own reasons.
Once we’ve had our fill of starch and bread, Nana Stephenson comes back with the cake. It’s homemade and slathered in Jackie’s favorite strawberry frosting—another thing we have in common.
In the words of one of my favorite movies, “It looks like a pink nightmare.”
“Where’s Mom?” Jackie asks as her grandmother lights the candles.
“She called just a few minutes ago, Bug,” Nana Stephenson replies. “She got held up in traffic but is on her way. Told me to go ahead and keep things rolling.”
Jackie rolls her eyes but doesn’t push the subject.
We all join in a chorus of “Happy Birthday,” and not a single person sings on pitch. Jackie is the only one who can sing here, and she is cringing. Nana Stephenson hits a note at the end I’m sure is sending dogs across the neighborhood howling.
Cheers and jeers explode as Jackie blows out her candles, and Nana Stephenson sets to work carving it with practiced hands.
“Is this Pepto Bismol flavored?” jokes Mark. “How’d you know that was my favorite flavor?”
“Just lucky, I guess.” Jackie digs a finger into her slice, popping the pink smothered tip into her mouth.
“Are you going to get your license tomorrow?” Katie asks, gently raising her fork as she takes a delicate bite of cake. She told us earlier that her parents made her take cotillion classes when she was in middle school. That explains the table manners.
“That’s the plan,” Jackie replies. “Mom got someone to cover her last class of the day, so we can hurry over before the DDS closes.”
“Good luck,” Taylor calls from the other end of the table. “I failed that thing three times before they gave me a license. They’re super strict.”
“I don’t think it’s strict of them to deny you a license when you hit someone during your test.” Tanner points a cake-covered fork at her.
“That could have happened to anyone!” Taylor defends herself.
“I think they finally just gave it to you to save them from the liability charges,” says Mark. “How many innocent people had to die?”
“No one died!” Taylor yells. “Besides, the lady was fine after a few weeks in the ICU.”
Chris and I make eye contact and bust out laughing.
“Well, it certainly sounds like you guys are having a blast,” a new voice says. Jackie’s mom, Melissa, wraps her arms around her daughter’s shoulders, resting her chin on the crown of her head.
“Hey, Mom.” She pats her mother’s arm. “‘Bout time you showed up.”
“Is that how you talk to the woman who gave you life?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jackie laughs. “And who never lets me forget it?”
“Good to see everyone.” Melissa waves at the rest of the table. “I hope you all finished your homework for Monday. I don’t give extensions for late night partying.”
The table grumbles, and Melissa smiles.
“Where were you, Mom?” Jackie takes another bite of her cake.
“I was getting your present,” she responds digging through her pocket. “Are you ready for it?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Jackie gets up from her seat, facing her mother.
“Here you go.” Melissa hands over a small black oval.
“No way,” Jackie breathes. “No way!”
“What, what is it?” I ask.
Everyone at the table cranes their necks to see the gift.
“It’s a car key!” Jackie bolts, moving like a flash.
A chorus of, “What?” resounds from the rest of the table.
In a flurry of motion, we all abandon our half-eaten cake and chase Jackie out the front door.
She lays on the hood of the sedan sitting beside the garage with a huge red bow planted on the roof. Patches of paint are faded in some places, and the windshield looks cracked, but I don’t think she cares. She cries and bounces up and down like she just won the lottery.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she yells at her mom, whose phone is held eye level—more than likely recording every moment of her daughter’s freak out.
Jackie may regret her exuberance when this hits Facebook later tonight, but for now, she’s living in the moment.
“Don’t dent the hood!” Melissa calls over her daughter’s shrieks of excitement.
“This is the best day of my life!” Jackie slides off the front of the car, opening the driver’s door. The engine comes to life with a stutter.
Taylor, Tabby, and Katie pile into the backseat. Mark pops the hood to take a look at the engine while Tanner and Larry stand behind him, pretending they know the first thing about cars.
“Some party.”
Chris’s voice makes me jump.
“You can say that again.” I laugh, suddenly aware of how close he is standing to me. I take a half step away. “Sorry if you’re not having a good time.”
“Are you kidding?” Chris folds his arms over his chest. “This is way more entertaining than a night sitting at home with my parents. I would be stuck watching the Bulldogs game with my dad as he finishes his sermon notes. He just considers it a warmup to the Falcons game on Sunday.”
“Gross.” I can’t keep the smile from my lips. “I thank God every day my family is just into college football. I think I would have killed myself if they watched it on Sunday too.”
Chris’s posture stiffens beside me.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he says, but his gaze is distant.
Shit. What did I say?
“All right, All right,” yells Melissa. “You don’t actually have your license yet, so everybody out of the car.”
The girls chatter excitedly as they climb out. Jackie knocks her mother over with a hug, and Mark has the other guys wrapped in a conversation about the benefits of performing your own oil changes.
Then there’s Chris and me. The two closet cases who don’t really fit into either conversation, so we watch from the outside.
Is there really a difference between us and them, Big Guy? Why is this such an alienating feeling? Even though Chris is here with me, I’m feeling more alone than ever.
“Isn’t this great?”
Jackie’s voice pulls me back from my thoughts.
“Y-yeah, I’m so excited for you.”
“Now, I can give you rides!”
She’s beams at me, and a weight forms in my chest.
I’m feeling it again—the urge to tell her. To reveal the reason behind all the weird things I’ve been doing. To not be alone in this. It will change our relationship. Though, I don’t know how. The only thing I do know is it’ll never be the same between us.
Everything will change.
And I’m not ready for that.
“You okay?”
> I blink away the threat of tears. “Of course.”
I feel Chris’s gaze on me as we move back into the house.
The road underneath the car is a steady noise helping to drown out my thoughts. Headlights pass on the opposite side of the road, flooding us in light for a split second before they’re gone.
The rest of Jackie’s party had involved her opening a huge stack of gifts, watching four reruns of Big Bang Theory, and a really raunchy round of Cards Against Humanity that—to everyone’s surprise—Chris won.
Jackie’s hodgepodge group of friends finally warmed up to him by the end of the evening, and Mark even invited Chris to hang out with him and Tanner in the computer lab after school. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they liked him more than me. I should probably take some offense to that, but honestly, I couldn’t care less.
“Thank you.” A soft voice comes from the dark.
“Huh?”
“I said thank you,” Chris repeats, louder. “You know, for inviting me to come along tonight. It was nice to be able to hang out.”
“I’m pretty sure Jackie invited you first,” I reply, watching another pair of yellowed lights roll by.
“You know what I mean.”
I shrug my shoulders. “You kinda turned out to be the life of the party.” I fiddle with the flip door on the cigarette lighter. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much soda shoot out of Jackie’s nose before. She was dying.”
“It just kept going.” Chris chuckles. “It was like Niagara Falls.”
Once the laughter fades, silence resumes between us. His hand lays open on the armrest, palm facing up.
Is he trying to hold my hand?
The thought occurs a little too easily for my taste. I’ll admit, Chris has been on my mind a lot lately, but that doesn’t mean I’m anywhere close to considering the possibility of something happening between us.
“I had somewhat of an epiphany yesterday after I got home.”
“Really?” I angle myself toward him, thankful for the interruption. “And what’s that?”
He hesitates. “Never mind. It’s kind of a long story.” Chris’s eyes reflect the headlights as they pass, flecks of starlight in each pupil.
“Hey.” My hand finds his shoulder. “You can tell me if you want.”
There Goes Sunday School Page 15