Sidekick

by Natalie Whipple

  I’m so stupid.

  “Care to tell us your intent?” Buck says.

  “Uhh, sure.” I force the lump down my throat. “As a faithful Parker’s customer, what I love most about your food is how simple and yet perfect it is. You don’t cut corners, but you also don’t hide behind excessive toppings. You let the food speak for itself.”

  I stare at my feet, feeling like a suck-up, but I mean it. “This is just a maple bacon and green chili burger. I thought with the onions it might give a bit of a cheese steak vibe, but with heat from the chili.”

  They all take their piece, and I watch them chew for a few seconds before I eat mine.

  I pop it in my mouth, and I’m surprised by how good it tastes. The heat is there, but not overwhelming. The white cheddar was a good choice, too, salty and sharp to balance the sweet heat. They all swallow, but still say nothing. They just stare at me like I’ve sprouted wings or something.

  Old Man Parker points to the empty plate. “Now that is Parker’s food. That’s the one.”

  They all grunt in agreement, even Buck. I smile like a fool. Hearing Old Man Parker say he liked my food? Wow. It’s like scoring a touchdown. Maybe even better.

  The bell rings for a customer, and Fred runs up front.

  “That could go on the menu tomorrow.” Charlie slaps my back. “Where’d you learn to cook like that?”

  I shrug, unable to admit even to him that I took lessons with my mom. “Just messing around in the kitchen.”

  “You need to go to culinary school.” Old Man Parker heads for the grill when Fred calls the order. “Don’t waste talent like that.”

  Culinary school? I never thought of it, but the idea of cooking every day instead of college is appealing.

  I could be a chef.

  Could I even do that? Cooking is one thing, but chefs are hardcore. I’ve watched enough Food Network to know that what they do isn’t easy. Running a restaurant takes way more than knowing how to cook. What would my parents say if I told them I wanted to be a chef? Dad already made fun of food jobs. He probably wouldn’t approve of this plan. And the team, they would laugh at me. Dallas already calls me burger boy, which is bad enough.

  As I drive home, the high of my success at Parker’s fades. It’s only two. Izzy and crew will still be watching anime, and who knows what else has happened while I was gone. My mind goes immediately to the worst scenario: Garr and Keira snuggled up in the recliner, sneaking kisses while everyone takes snack or bathroom breaks.

  This deal with Trent has completely backfired.

  I turn off my headlights and force myself to go inside and accept it. But before I get to the door, Keira opens it, her skateboard in hand. She hooks her arm with mine and drags me right back to Puke.

  “What the hell?” I say.

  “Mom’s freaking out, so I was going to skate home.” She smiles. “But you can take me, since you’re already up anyway.” She heads for the passenger side, leaving me to stare at the car and wonder if this is actually happening.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Keira puts her feet up on the dashboard and cranks the seat back so she’s practically lying down. I can’t help but think how easy it would be to climb over. Eyes on the road, Russ.

  “How was your party?” she asks.

  “Eh.”

  She smirks. “So you didn’t make out with anyone.”

  “Because that’s the only thing that makes a night good.” I turn out of Hamilton Villa, wondering if this is yet another one of her tests. Is she hinting that she cares about who I’m with?

  She shakes her head. “You’re good, Russ. You make it sound like you actually think that.”

  “Wow. Glad to know you have such a high opinion of me.” I’m too tired for tests. I haven’t had more than five hours of sleep a night for the last week. “Making out is great, sure, but it’s nice to have some kind of fun and conversation, too. Give me some credit.”

  She laughs. “You’re cranky tonight.”

  “I just don’t get you, Keira. One second you’re nice to me, and the next you act like I’m some kind of horny bastard. You drag me back to my car so I can drive you home and expect that I want to help you out. Then you treat me like shit.” I take a deep breath. Why am I mad when all I’ve wanted was this exact scenario? “Yeah, I’m a jock, but I haven’t been anything but nice to you. I haven’t judged you or looked down on you, though you’ve done plenty of that to me. So quit it with the tests. I’m not faking.”

  I can feel her staring at me, but I don’t look over.

  Trash bins block the curb in front of her house, so I pull into the driveway. What a sucky drive. It’s obvious she’s not into me, and I hate that I’m so upset about it. “You getting out?”

  “No.” She presses her lips together, and then her eyes start to water.

  Great, I made her cry. “Sorry, I guess I am cranky.”

  She sits up, her eyes locked on mine. “No, I’m sorry. Damn it, Russ, you make everything so difficult!”

  “Excuse me?”

  “If you were a jerk, it would be a lot easier to…”

  “To what?”

  Something changes then. Nothing physical, but the energy between us is different. Instead of a push, it’s a pull. She looks at my lips, then at her hands. I know that cue well, but I wait. It’s late, and maybe the sleep deprivation is making me hallucinate.

  “If you were a jerk, it would be a lot easier to stop thinking about you,” she says.

  Instead of replying, I grab her arm and pull her closer. She kisses me without hesitation, as if she’s been dying to. Her arms wrap around my neck and she lightly runs her tongue across my upper lip.

  She’s good.

  I can’t pull myself away from her, even though somewhere in the back of my head I know I should leave. They’ll notice if I’m an hour late, suspect something. But she has me up against the window, her body plastered against mine. She feels so good in my arms, strong yet soft, curvy in all the right places.

  I don’t know how long it’s been when she pulls back; all I know is that I’m more than ready to go as far as she wants.

  “Wow,” she gasps. “You’re better than I imagined.”

  I smile. “And you were the one accusing me of just wanting to make out?”

  “Shut up.” She punches my chest gently then spreads her fingers out. “I better go before my mom comes out here and gets proof she should be worried.”

  “I told Izzy I’d be home around two. She’ll call soon and ask where I am.”

  She frowns. “They probably shouldn’t know, huh. Garr seems to—”

  “Yeah, uh…” That cools me off some. “Maybe not yet. Let me talk to him.”

  She nods, gives me one more long kiss, and then says, “Goodnight.”

  “Night.”

  On the drive home, I have to keep telling myself that it actually happened. It feels like a dream, but then I look over at the passenger seat still craned back. She was there. She kissed me. She tried not to like me—probably because punks don’t date jocks—but she couldn’t help herself.

  I won.

  For once in my life, I’m not the sidekick. I’m not second best. I’m not the guy everyone forgets.

  I thought it would feel better than this.

  But now what? The closer I get to my house, the bigger the pit in my stomach grows. I’d only planned as far as getting Keira to like me. I never considered what I’d do after that. How am I supposed to tell Garret? We’ve never fought over a girl before, but that’s because I always stepped aside. I don’t know if he’ll do that for me. He might hate me.

  He is so into Keira. I made it look like I was helping him out, though I really wanted her for myself. I’d have to explain that I’ve been lying since the second we met her. There’s no way he wouldn’t be pissed. If I told him I liked a girl, and then he got with her…

  After I park the car, I lean my head on the steering wheel. How do I fix this? I don’t think I ca
n. I screwed it up from day one. All I can do is keep it secret, so I put the passenger seat back like it was and get out.

  “Russell Arnold Pearson!” Izzy calls.

  I almost flee to my room, but she’ll just follow. So I make an appearance. It’s like it always is, each person in their expected seat as if nothing has changed. “What?”

  “You watching?”

  I shake my head. “I’m beat.”

  “Me, too.” Garret gets up, like my not watching means he’s not obligated to stay. I walk him to the door, my palms sweating. Can he tell just by looking at me? His eyes are bright, hopeful, when he says, “Dude, you should have been here tonight. She was definitely flirting with me. You have to help me snag a dance with her tomorrow at the Halloween thing.”

  This is the part where I should tell him. It’s as good an opening as I’ll ever get. But I can’t seem to get the words out. “Sure.”

  He punches my shoulder. “You’re the best, man.”

  More like the worst.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I kind of wish Old Man Parker didn’t give me Halloween off. The last thing I want to do is spend the night at this dance, surrounded by all the people who keep making my life so complicated. I stare up at my bedroom ceiling, clicking through songs on my iPod until I find one I like. There we go, “Landslide.” As I get lost in the melody, the tension slowly leaves. Stevie Nicks may be old, but her voice is still sexy. When I was ten my dad took me on a flight to Vegas just to catch a Fleetwood Mac reunion concert. I didn’t tell anyone but Garret how awesome it was to see her live.

  Someone bangs on my door. Before I can get it, Izzy marches in, already in her perfect replica of the Vampire Knight school uniform. It’s black with white detailing, and the skirt has a lot of frills underneath to make it poof out. She wears a short brown wig, and she’s even tracked down brown contacts. She’s a dead ringer for Yuki Cross. If you know your anime, that is. Most people probably won’t get it.

  “You aren’t even ready!” she whines.

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “You are not going in that.” She glares at my T-shirt and jeans like I’m wearing a cult robe or, even worse, a football uniform.

  “I’m not dressing up, Iz.” I haven’t dressed up since I was eleven, haven’t been trick-or-treating since I was twelve. Even in junior high I figured out it was cooler to go to a party. We always had leftover candy anyway.

  “Seriously, you look like a loser.” She tromps to my closet and grabs a white shirt. “I have an idea.”

  “Izzy, I am not—”

  “It won’t be crazy, I swear. You’ll look totally cool still, but with extra…flair.” She throws the white shirt at me. “Put that on.”

  “It’s too small.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Trust me.”

  “I don’t like participating in your crazy plots.”

  Izzy lets out an evil laugh and taps her fingers together. “It is Halloween, dear brother, loosen up. I’ll be right back.”

  I shake my head, but I’m smiling. Her enthusiasm for Halloween rubs off on everyone who crosses her path. I pull on the shirt and check it out in my mirror. It’s totally ridiculous. I look like one of those guys who makes out with his reflection. I laugh, picturing Dallas doing just that.

  “That’s perfect,” Izzy says.

  “Yeah, if I want to look like a douche.”

  “Not when you’re wearing this over it.” She pulls out a black leather jacket from behind her.

  I hate to admit it, but I like it. It’s got this classic feel, and I immediately get that she’s turning me into a fifties greaser. It could be worse. “Where’d you get that?”

  “It’s Dad’s, I think. I found it when I was rummaging through some boxes for Mom’s weirdo old clothes.” She tosses it to me. “Try it on.”

  I slip my arms in, wrinkling my nose at the smell of old leather. It’s a little tight in the shoulders, but other than that it fits. I check it in the mirror, trying not to be too impressed with myself. But with my dark messy hair and slightly scruffy face, I look pretty tough. “I’m not doing my hair.”

  “Fair enough.” She smiles. “As long as it looks like you put in some effort.”

  The doorbell rings, and she disappears. I take a deep breath. I can do this. Garret just wants to dance with Keira. Maybe if she’s indifferent, he’ll get the picture and give up. It would be ideal if I could find him another girlfriend before I tell him about us. It’s the best way to fix this fast.

  Grabbing my phone and wallet, I head downstairs. But I freeze before I get to the bottom.

  Trent went all out for Izzy. He’s dressed as Kaname from Vampire Knight to match her. And then there’s Colin, who is dressed like a navy admiral. But that’s not what surprises me. It’s Daphne.

  She’s dressed in a royal purple sari with gold trim, looking more Indian than I’ve ever seen her. It only exposes her toned right shoulder and arm, but for some reason that’s enough. Her hair is pulled back in some intricate style, and she’s wearing massive earrings. When she turns and sees me, she smiles. She looks so not like her usual self, but she’s beautiful.

  Daphne holds out her arms. “What do you think?”

  I gulp, trying to find the right words, the ones that won’t make me sound like I’m hitting on my little sister’s best friend. “Did your mom have a heart attack?”

  She laughs. “Almost. I think I scared her more than any zombie could.”

  “I bet.” I jump down the remaining stairs. “What made you think of this?”

  She looks down. “I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to know more about my culture, but my mom gets so stressed over it, like I’ll run off to India or something. I guess this was my chance to try it without her totally losing it.”

  “Because it’s a costume,” I say.

  “Yeah, exactly. Not the real me.” But it is her, or at least part of her.

  “You know,” Colin says. “Your mom sure is uptight about that crap for someone who is all ‘be yourself no matter what.’”

  Daphne smiles. “Kinda hypocritical, right?”

  “Completely.” Izzy grabs Colin’s arm. He seems more surprised than anyone. “Let’s go get Keira.” She pauses to look at me. “You’re going with Garr, aren’t you?”

  “Yup.” I shove my hands in my pockets, refusing to look disappointed that I can’t go with them.

  I knock on Garret’s door and the guilt washes over me again. I tell myself it’ll subside over time. It’s not like I did anything so bad. They aren’t together. I can’t help what Keira wants. And it’s what I want, too. I deserve to be happy, don’t I?

  When the door opens, I bust up laughing.

  “Is it that bad?” Garret says, frowning.

  “No, man.” I try to compose myself. Garr’s dressed like a skater punk, complete with his usually wavy hair combed straight over one eye. I can barely look at the skinny jeans. “I just wasn’t expecting it. At all. It’s a great costume—people won’t even recognize you.”

  He smiles as we head to his truck. “I know. You think I can go the whole night pretending I’m a new kid or your cousin or something?”

  “Maybe.”

  “At least I look like I belong with Keira,” he says as he revs the engine.

  I don’t answer. He’s still trying to impress her. Garret never has to impress a girl. He says hi and they fall down begging to date him. Maybe I should tell him now before he does something even more insane.

  “Um, Garr?” A lump forms in my throat, but I have to get this out.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you sure you want to go this far to impress her? I mean, I hate to say it, but she doesn’t seem that interested.”

  He smiles like he knows something I don’t. “Trust me, she’s about to crack. I can feel it.”

  “How do you know? Did she say something?” The fact that he’s so confident makes it worse. But he doesn’t have any reason to doubt. A girl has never rejected
him before.

  “Last night she kept knocking knees with me and other stuff like that. But she seemed embarrassed with everyone around…” He lets out a sad sigh. “I don’t think they like me. She probably doesn’t want to mess up the only friendships she has here.”

  This is not how I wanted the conversation to go. I can’t tell him when he’s trying so hard. “That makes sense.”

  “So maybe if I get in with them, she won’t be worried about that.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Are you seriously saying you are trying to ‘get in’ with Izzy’s group? Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? The whole school wants to be in with you, dude.”

  He shakes his head. “Not true. All these skaters and punks and hipsters or whatever, they think we’re the symbol of everything that’s wrong with high school.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but I can’t. Trent’s angry, vengeful face comes to mind. I was so focused on Keira, on beating Garret, that I didn’t consider just how many complications there’d be if we did start dating.

  Garret parks at the school and leans back in the driver’s seat. “I never got it before, Russ. I never understood what you were saying about me being popular and crap. But trying to get to know these people? I get it now, and I don’t want to be that guy. I don’t want people thinking I’m that stereotypical jock anymore.”

  “What do you want to be? A freak?”

  “No. I don’t know…” He wipes his hand over his face. “Maybe.”

  I almost can’t believe I’m hearing this. “So you don’t want to play football anymore?”

  “No!” He seems shocked I even said it. “I love the game. I could play it forever. I just…I like a lot of other things, too. No one seems to remember that.”

  Something has happened to my best friend. I don’t know what it is, but it’s scary. He’s changing and I’m changing, and it doesn’t seem like we’re going in the same direction anymore. “Garr, just don’t do anything stupid, okay? I get what you mean, but we’re almost done with all this shit. The season’s almost over, and then we can just lie low until graduation, ’kay?”