Life in the No-Dating Zone

by Patricia B Tighe

  “Give me a break,” Lindsey said. “That’s a generalization.”

  “But it’s still true.”

  Mike leaned over his plate like he was trying to get the whole table’s attention. “Hey, Star Trek, right? I love Chekov’s Russian accent. ‘Yes, Keptin.’” He chuckled and managed to stand, one hand against the back of the booth. “And that part where those three guys go space diving toward a planet? So sick!” He slapped his arms tightly against his sides, lifted his face to the ceiling, and squinted. “We’re so going to diiiieee.”

  Lindsey laughed. “Guess you’re right, Marta.”

  Marta pulled at Mike’s arm. “Sit down. That’s not what I was talking about, brainiac.”

  “Well, it should’ve been.” He dropped into his seat. “That movie was awesome.”

  Claire had her coffee mug up near her lips, but it didn’t hide the amused look she sent Mike’s way.

  Would anyone care if I threw my fork at him?

  Sam spoke quietly next to me. “Is that guy really as much of an idiot as he seems?”

  “I doubt it,” I said. “I think he knows exactly what he’s doing.” Trying to impress Claire for one. “With these theater types it’s all about playing a role.”

  “I can tell.” He swirled his glass, making the ice spin around inside. “So you’re not one of them—you just like hanging around them.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Sam studied me like he knew there was more to it. And maybe because he was chill or maybe because he was so into Rose—one of the nicest girls around—I decided to trust him. “It’s just—” I tilted my head toward Lindsey, then shrugged.

  “Oh.” He shook his head. “That’s tough, man.”

  Despite the sympathy, Sam sounded kind of confused. But I didn’t know why so I just went on. “Tell me about it. Boyfriends can be serious roadblocks.”

  Sam smiled like he was about to say something, but Rose came back from wherever she’d gone, slid into the booth, and started talking. I couldn’t hear what she said, because Lindsey laughed right near my ear. Mike was on his feet again, trying to mimic a zombie. That was easy enough to ignore.

  I grabbed the insulated coffee pot and poured myself more coffee. Why was Sam confused by me liking Lindsey? Did he think I didn’t stand a chance? Or since I wasn’t in theater, she and I didn’t have much in common? I didn’t know, but all of a sudden I wished I were home playing video games with Berger. Just doing something I was used to.

  Sam put Rose’s coffee cup in front of me, so I filled it. He handed it to her, then turned back. “What were you saying again?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh, yeah. Boyfriends.”

  “Yeah. Never mind.”

  “Okay.” Sam stared at his plate like he was thinking about something. Was it that whole confusion thing? I couldn’t tell. He seemed like a decent enough guy. It was stupid not to just ask him.

  “A minute ago you sounded … surprised about—” I lifted my left elbow toward Lindsey. “How come?”

  “It was nothing.”

  This time I didn’t say anything. Just stared until he spoke.

  “I thought it was Claire,” he whispered.

  Whoa. That was weird. “Why?”

  He crunched on a piece of ice. “Well, being new here, I watch people a lot, you know? I’m trying to figure out how everyone fits together.” He lowered his voice. “You and Claire stare at each other a lot. I thought there was something there.” He lifted one shoulder. “Guess I was wrong.”

  Claire had been staring at me? She must’ve been wanting to see how I was doing with Lindsey. “Yeah. We’re just friends.”

  Sam nodded and drank more ice.

  “Hey,” Lindsey said in an overly loud voice. “How’re y’all doing?”

  Just the way she said it made me tense up. And I was right to. Nyssa and Amy were standing by the table—Nyssa messing with her purse strap and Amy wearing the fakest smile I’d ever seen on a girl.

  I cussed under my breath, but Sam heard me. “What?” he asked.

  I couldn’t get my voice to work.

  Amy’s gaze never left Lindsey’s. “We’re fine.”

  Lindsey leaned closer to me. “Y’all should join us. Pull up a couple of chairs.”

  Nyssa and Amy exchanged glances, then dragged over chairs from a table nearby. Claire moved her place settings aside and a harried-looking waitress appeared and took their order. Sam nudged me.

  I cleared my throat, then spoke under my breath toward him. “Kind of hard to explain right now.”

  “Got it,” he said.

  Claire and Rose were talking to the newcomers and the general conversations around the table resumed. I stared into the dark brown coffee in my mug. Everyone could pretend things were okay, but it felt like I was in a first-person shooter game, sneaking around a corner, preparing to take out the enemy before he got me.

  The waitress came back and set two mugs and another coffee pot in front of the girls. Great, give them a reason to stay awhile.

  Sam chuckled. “Don’t look now, man, but you have two more girls sneaking looks at you. I can’t wait to hear this story.”

  I had to force myself not to laugh like a hysterical hyena. “Want to leave now? I can tell you anything you want to know.”

  Sam grinned.

  Lindsey slid her arm around my shoulders. I should’ve felt happy. Instead, I wanted to shrug out from under it. I didn’t want her attention as part of any performance. Amy frowned and Nyssa looked at a different table. My heart thudded hard. This was about to get bad. Very bad. I didn’t know how I knew. I just did. Maybe I could say I had a phone call and escape.

  “So girls,” Lindsey said. “I have a question.”

  “Yeah?” Amy asked.

  “Why are y’all creepin’ on Gray?”

  Every conversation at the table died away. I couldn’t talk either. My throat had turned to chalk.

  Amy let out a sharp laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shook a couple of sugar packets but didn’t open them. Nyssa stared into her cup.

  Claire sent us a hard look. “Hey, Lindsey, what’s the play y’all are doing the first semester?”

  But Lindsey ignored her. “That’s funny.” She removed her arm from my shoulders but slid her fingers across my forearm until she reached my hand. Then she clutched it. “He says y’all have been around a lot lately.”

  I coughed. “It’s not a big de—”

  “We all live in the same area,” Amy said. “It happens.”

  “Ha,” Lindsey said. “Not unless you plan it.”

  Nyssa, whose gaze had shifted to our joined hands, stood, jostling the table. “Excuse me. Restroom.” She hurried away.

  Amy watched her go, then spiked the sugar packets into the middle of the table. “You’re such a witch, Lindsey.”

  Lindsey’s grip on my hand tightened. “Pot. Kettle.”

  Mike waved a hand in the air. “Wait, I know. It’s a scene from one of those angry girl movies where everyone stabs everyone else in the back, right?”

  I could almost like him for saying that. But it was too close to the truth.

  Amy stood, her chair screeching against the floor. “Exactly. And I’m sure Adam will think it’s hilarious.” She stormed off.

  “Don’t let your broom hit the door when you fly off,” Lindsey called. She was squeezing the bones in my hand together. I flexed it and she let go like she’d burned herself. She laughed. “That was fun.”

  Her voice sounded lighthearted and a little sarcastic, but anyone could sense the strain in it. She must be worried about Amy’s threat. Which could only mean she really cared about stupid Adam Castro. Things weren’t looking so great for me.

  But after this I wasn’t sure I wanted them to.

  Why had she been so rude to Nyssa and Amy? I’d never heard anyone say Lindsey could be mean. She had a rep for being sweet no matter what happened. Apparently Amy didn’t see it that
way. And I hated being dragged into the middle of their fight.

  I wanted to be outside, breathing clean air, sweating out the muck flowing through my veins.

  Sam thunked his water glass onto the table. “It kinda was like a movie,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Yeah,” I said. “But not one I want to see.”

  Twenty-Three

  Claire

  “Oh, this is cute,” Rose said, sliding the magazine across the carpet of my room. We lay on our stomachs, flipping through the latest issues of Seventeen and Marie Claire, and listening to Carrie Underwood belt out another boy-done-me-wrong song.

  The photo showed a model wearing a leopard-print, skin-tight skirt ending maybe an inch below her butt. “Ha, right. For you, maybe.”

  Rose laughed. “I knew you’d love it.”

  The sound of the front door banging closed echoed through the house. Lindsey yelled out a hello to my parents, her light footsteps already on the stairs. She whisked into my room, closing the door behind her.

  “You’re late,” I said.

  She dropped her purse on the bed and kicked off her flip-flops. “I’ve been on the phone.”

  “Who with?” Rose asked.

  “Where’s your big back pillow?” Lindsey looked around. “It’s so clean in here. What’s wrong with you?”

  I could ask her the same thing. I was still irritated over what she said to Nyssa and Amy at breakfast, but I wasn’t sure if I should say anything. I mean, she thought she was helping Gray, didn’t she? That was a good thing, right?

  “It’s Saturday,” I said, squinting up at her. “Cleaning day, remember?” As if on cue, the vacuum cleaner started up downstairs.

  “Oh, right.” With jerky movements, she searched the pile of stuffed animals in the corner of the room by the window.

  “Quit,” I said. “You’re hurting Henrietta pig. Just sit down.” I retrieved my fuzzy purple bedrest pillow from the closet and tossed it to her, then put Henrietta on my bed. How had she ended up in the pile of stuffed animals, anyway?

  Lindsey made no comment about Henrietta, which if I hadn’t realized it already, would have been a clear sign she was seriously upset. She sank down and leaned against my dresser instead of the bedrest pillow. That she clutched against her chest.

  Rose and I spoke at the same time.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “Who were you talking to?” Rose asked.

  Lindsey squeezed her eyes shut like she was trying to hold back tears. After a couple of seconds, she opened them but just stared at the carpet. “I think Adam is cheating on me.”

  “I know,” I said. “You told me.”

  Rose sat up. “When? Where was I?”

  “Spending time with Sam and his cousins,” I said.

  “But this is worse,” Lindsey said.

  “What happened?” Rose asked.

  “I called to tell him about this morning at IHOP. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about me and Gray because I can guarantee you Amy will call him and make it sound as bad as possible.”

  “And?” Rose asked.

  “He didn’t have time to talk. He was about to go somewhere.” Lindsey dug her nails into the pillow. “There were girls laughing in the background.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” I said.

  “No, but he said something in Spanish to them and they laughed even louder.” Her voice dropped. “And one of them was named Brisa.”

  “His old girlfriend?” I asked.

  She pressed her lips together and nodded.

  “It still doesn’t mean anything,” Rose said.

  Carrie Underwood’s songs seemed harsh and painful all of a sudden. I turned the music off.

  “If only I’d called him right away,” Lindsey said, “then he would’ve had time to hear my story and at least that would’ve been cleared up. Now I have no idea if Amy’s gonna get to him before I do.” She jumped to her feet. “And stupid Brisa. I can’t believe he’s not coming home just so he can be with her.”

  “You don’t know that for sure, Linds,” I said.

  “No, but what guy stays away just to spend time with his grandparents? He’s lying. I know he is.” Lindsey paced from the dresser to the nightstand—a trip that took maybe four steps—and back again.

  “But wait,” Rose said. “Why didn’t you call him right away?”

  “I wanted to be home in my room, to be alone so I could walk around or whatever,” she said.

  Hmm. “Whatever” probably meant to cry if she needed to.

  “And I had to call Nyssa first.”

  Strange. “You called Nyssa?”

  “I just said that, didn’t I?”

  “What for?” Rose asked.

  Lindsey wouldn’t meet our eyes. “To apologize. I felt bad for embarrassing her. Amy just makes me crazy sometimes.”

  That was one of the reasons I loved Lindsey. She could always surprise me. Just when she’d do something really rude, she’d turn around and be caring and mature. But I guess we were all a little like that.

  Rose laughed. “You didn’t say that to Nyssa, did you?”

  “About Amy? Of course not.”

  “How’d Nyssa take it?” I asked.

  “Okay. She spoke kinda softly, so I might have missed something, but she thanked me before hanging up.”

  “Good,” Rose said. “I’m glad you did. I wouldn’t want her thinking I hang out with jerks.”

  I tossed a magazine at her head, but she caught it with a laugh. “No,” I said, “we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

  Lindsey sat on the floor and hugged the pillow again. Rose and I exchanged one of our “who’s going to talk her down?” looks. Rose took up the job. She scooted forward. “You need to talk to him, Linds.”

  “I’ve tried! Didn’t you hear me?”

  “I mean, when you talk to him, you need to tell him what you’re afraid of.”

  She stared like we were idiots. “Right. And he’ll accuse me of not trusting him, and then we’ll have a fight, and that’ll make things so much better.”

  But the sarcasm didn’t slow Rose down. She really had changed over the summer. “You’ve seen for yourself how things work out when people are honest with each other. It’s what Claire always preaches. You just need to be brave.”

  “Brave? Honest?” The last word burst from Lindsey’s mouth with a laugh. “You’re throwing around words like they mean something. If someone is already lying to you, they’ll keep lying no matter how honest you are.”

  I figured it was time to help. “Linds, even if things go bad, it’s better to tell him what you think instead of making up stuff about what’s going on.” I hated myself for even thinking it, but I made myself say, “Give him a chance to tell his side.”

  The look she sent me practically sliced my eyebrows off. “I’m not making stuff up, Claire. I know what’s going on, and I’m not gonna sit around doing nothing while Adam plays with his old girlfriend.”

  Uh-oh. I braced myself for the dramatic proclamation I knew was to come. Lindsey wiped an eye and stood. “I’m going to Hatch’s party tonight.”

  “But you promised Austin—”

  “I don’t care. He’ll get over it.”

  Rose stood. “Lindsey,” she said in her best horse-whisperer voice. “You know how wild Hatch’s parties are.”

  Lindsey planted her feet. “Why do you think I want to go?”

  Hooboy.

  “Y’all should come too. Bring your boyfriends. It’ll be killer.”

  Ugh. Here we go again. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Right, Claire. Then bring that cute guy who hangs around with you constantly.”

  I opened my mouth to insist Gray wasn’t my boyfriend, but Rose and Lindsey stared like they wanted me to divulge some huge secret romance. The more I protested, the better the chance they’d realize I liked him. Especially Rose. She could practically rea
d minds.

  “Whatever,” I said. “I’ll invite Gray just for you, Lindsey.”

  “Perfect.” She grabbed her purse. “I’m going home to decide what to wear tonight. I’ll let you know about the time.” And she was out the door before Rose or I had another chance to try to talk her out of it. Neither of us said anything until we heard the front door close.

  “So we’re going?” Rose asked.

  “We have to. She’s scared about Adam. Which means—”

  “She’s gonna get drunk.”

  “Yup.”

  Rose pulled out her phone. “We need to make a plan.”

  Twenty-Four

  Claire

  “Claire, hurry up,” Lindsey called. She walked backward across a lawn next to Hatch’s lake house, Sam and Rose right beside her. That was our plan in a nutshell—don’t leave Lindsey alone. Don’t let her go off and hook up with some random college guy. And get her home before she drinks too much.

  “Go ahead,” I yelled back. “I’ll find you. I’m looking for my stupid water bottle.” And waiting for Gray. He wasn’t due to be there for another five minutes and I wanted to show him where to go.

  She waved, then swung around and walked on, a definite skip in her step. I continued my excavation of the trunk of Sam’s car, pushing aside his gym bag and piles of books. I’d tossed my water bottle back here without thinking when Sam was clearing space in the backseat for Lindsey and me. And his trunk light had burned out, so I was doing everything by feel, regretting the fact I’d left the tiny flashlight my dad had given me for my keychain at home.

  With the big stuff out of the way, I ran my hands across the fuzzy rough carpet but came up empty. I hoped they had Cokes at the party. I’d promised my parents I’d never drink from any open container at a party and I’d gotten used to having iced tea in my tall aluminum bottle. It held about an hour and a half worth of sipping, which was as long as I liked to stay at any party.

  A car drove by, its headlights briefly illuminating the rear of the trunk and the glint of something metal. That had to be it. I submerged, reaching blindly, my feet actually leaving the pavement. Man, sometimes I hated being short. But I’d reached my goal. I closed my fingers over a cold cylinder. “Ha! Got you!”