by Allie Gail
“I made some taco salad if you’re hungry,” I told him.
“I ate at Trent’s house,” he informed me, guzzling water from the bottle.
“Okay…just thought I’d let you know. In case you were hungry.”
He gave me a quick glance before returning his gaze to the television. “I don’t need you to play mother hen for me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
How did he always manage to take everything I said the wrong way? “I was just making a simple statement - there’s no need to get all defensive about it!”
“I wasn’t being defensive. I was just making a simple statement, same as you.” His voice was nonchalant, which somehow only riled me further.
“Do you always have to be so rude?”
He sighed. “Please…thank you…what is it you want me to say?”
“You could start by telling me why you hate me!” I didn’t even intend to say that out loud, but the words tumbled out before I realized what I was doing.
“I don’t hate you.”
“Then why are you so nasty to me?”
“How am I nasty to you? I’m just sitting here minding my own business! You’re the one who’s being annoying as hell!”
“Annoying? All I did was offer you dinner, you ungrateful asswipe!”
“If I wanted dinner, I’d make it myself! I’m not incompetent!”
“No, you’re just a total douche!”
“Really? Are you sure you don’t mean psycho?”
Oh, fuck me sideways. So he had heard me. No wonder he was acting this way. Closing the book in my lap, I tossed it to land beside me on the couch. For a minute I just sat there, staring at the screen and wondering whether I should try to apologize. “I didn’t mean that,” I finally said slowly. “I was just…in a pissy mood, I guess.”
His eyes met mine. “Well, I guess you could say I’m in a pissy mood too, then.”
“Yeah, but you’re always in a pissy mood,” I complained. The remark wasn’t meant to be funny, but I noticed him suddenly biting on one corner of his mouth as if he didn’t want me to see that I’d made him smile.
“Touché.” He finished off his water, then recapped the bottle. “Look…it’s nothing personal, Sara. I’m just not the social type, you know? You shouldn’t think that just because we’re staying in the same house you have to entertain me or cook for me or play hostess. I honestly prefer to be left alone, no offense or anything. You get what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“You have your life and I have mine. Oil and water don’t mix and if you try, all you do is make a mess. I know you aren’t exactly overjoyed about me being here. It isn’t the ideal situation for me either, but it is what it is. So I’ll do my best to stay out of your business if you’ll extend the same courtesy. Do that and we’ll get along fine. Okay?”
I blinked at him. “All this over taco salad?”
He kind of laughed then, and for the first time I saw an actual smile. If I thought he was gorgeous before…oh man, that was nothing compared to this. Fried ice cream, that’s what he was. Hot on the outside and frozen on the inside.
“You’re a trip,” he demurred, getting up to wander down the hallway and back to the safety of his sanctuary.
I watched him walk away and contemplated to myself how ironic it was that I’ve always been partial to fried ice cream.
Dana and I were just finishing up lunch the next day when Trent and Doug came strolling over with three other guys in tow. One I recognized as the team’s quarterback, though I’d never actually met him before. I was pretty sure I’d seen him in my drama class too. The other one was Colin Hayes, who I did remember because he’d been a cutup since second grade. The third, of course, was Rob I-Just-Wanna-Be-Left-Alone Kensington.
“Hillcrest High’s two most eligible bachelorettes,” Trent pronounced, sitting on the edge of the cafeteria table and grinning broadly. “How’s my sexy new girlfriend doing?”
This was directed at me, and immediately I wondered what Dana was going to think. “It’s all good.”
“What’s new with you, Lemon Drop?” He stuffed a piece of gum in his mouth and tossed the wadded-up wrapper at Dana. It landed in her lap.
“Not much.” Her cheeks seemed rosier than usual. “What about you?”
“Couldn’t get through the day without stopping by to flirt with my two favorite girls.”
The sandy-haired quarterback leaned forward to extend a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. Riley Murphy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I shook his hand, impressed by his impeccable manners and warm smile. “Sara Marsh.”
“It’s good to have you back at Hillcrest, Sara. If you’re planning on coming to the season opener next Friday let me know. I’ll hook you up with a couple of tickets.”
“Oh. Thanks. I’ll…um, I’ll let you know.” I hadn’t even considered going to the game, but it occurred to me that Dana would probably want to drag me there so she could drool over Trent’s rear end some more.
“We’ll probably be there,” she told him, confirming my suspicions.
“Probably?” Trent teased. “Probably, nothing. I better see both of you there unless you want me to bend you over my knee and spank you.”
“Not even in your dreams, player.” Her eyes twinkled brightly.
I looked over at Rob, who seemed impatient to leave. “Are you riding with me this afternoon or do you have practice again?”
He frowned slightly. “I have a doctor’s appointment. I’ll drop you off at home first.”
Oh, that’s right - his therapy session. Me and my big mouth. I wondered if any of his friends knew he was seeing a shrink. “Okay.”
Riley shot him a curious look. “You two related or something?”
“Rob’s staying at Sara’s house,” Doug cut in before quickly diverting his attention. “You talk to Jordan lately?”
“Nah…I don’t talk to her much anymore. I don’t know what’s up with that girl. She acts like she doesn’t even want anything to do with me.”
“Riley and Jordan used to date,” Dana confided to me in a low voice. Even though I probably could have figured that one out on my own.
“I’ll tell you when it all went wrong,” Trent advised.
“When is that?”
“The minute you showed her your three-inch pecker!”
Doug and Colin howled with laughter while Riley grabbed Trent and wrestled him to the ground. I couldn’t believe they were rolling around on that nasty cafeteria floor.
Dana rolled her eyes at me. “Let’s go before we all wind up in detention,” she muttered.
“I’m with you.” I picked up my tray and followed her. Once we’d tossed out our trash, we left the boys to their own devices. “Why did Trent call you Lemon Drop?”
She pointed to her flaxen hair. “Duh!”
“Oh.”
“I’m also known as Banana Top and Tweety Head. He thinks he’s being clever. Like those names are so original.” She shook her head in feigned disgust, but I could tell she didn’t mind his corny nicknames one bit. She loved the attention.
“Wonder what he calls Staci,” I goaded her with a wicked grin.
“He doesn’t call her anything - he just blows a dog whistle and she comes running.” Hanging her tongue out, Dana panted like a dog. “Hey, you know who we should set you up with? Riley. He was so obviously checking you out.”
“I don’t want to be set up.”
“Didn’t you think he was hot?”
“I thought you said he was dating Jordan.”
“Was being the operative word here…”
“Dana, I met him two seconds ago! Why are you trying to set us up? I have too much going on right now to deal with all that crap.”
She gave me a dubious look. “What do you have going on? Other than school.”
“Um…I have dance class on Wednesdays.”
“Really? You’re tak
ing ballet with Miss Andrews again? On purpose?”
“I happen to like ballet.”
“Fine. And besides that…?”
“Drama Club.”
“Drama Club only meets twice a month. What else?”
“We’ll have theatre rehearsals before long.”
“We haven’t even decided what production we’re doing yet! Try again.”
I couldn’t think of a thing, darn her hide. “I’ll have to spend a lot of time studying,” I reminded her, casting about for excuses.
“Not that much time.”
“Well, what about you? I don’t see you trying to set yourself up with anyone!”
“I’m just waiting for the right time.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I pulled the thick calculus book out of my locker. Next period was study hall and I wanted to get tonight’s homework out of the way. “Maybe you should stop worrying about my love life and concentrate on your own.”
“I think my own is a hopeless case.”
At her dejected tone, I pulled my head out of my locker and turned to see what she was looking at. Farther down the hallway, Staci Sheridan was running one hand up Trent’s chest and smiling coyly at him with her duck-lipped pout. Apparently she assumed the school’s regulations regarding PDA didn’t apply to her.
“How am I supposed to compete with someone who looks like her?” Dana sighed dismally. “Those tits cannot be real. Do they look real to you?”
“Sure as hell likes to advertise them, doesn’t she?” The amount of cleavage she was displaying was absurd. How did she get around the dress code? She must button up before going into her classes. I thought about Chase, back in Greenville with his recycled piece of ass. Why do girls like that always seem to get whatever they want? And why are guys stupid enough to fall for it? “If he’s dumb enough to want that, then you’re better off without him. Trust me.”
“I know.” She didn’t sound convinced though.
I put an arm around her and squeezed. “She’s the one who couldn’t compete with you. You’re a natural beauty. She’s as fake as a store mannequin. I bet if Trent ever saw her without makeup he’d puke first and then run away screaming in horror.”
“Hm. I like that image.” She perked up at the thought.
The bell rang then, and I slammed my locker shut. “Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to study hall I go.”
“See ya in sixth period.”
During study hall I got a text from her: Just heard Trent and Staci are together. :/
“Damn,” I sighed. Another one bites the dust.
5
The next two days could almost have been copied and pasted from the pages of the previous two. Other than ballet class on Wednesday, not much was noticeably different. School was…well, just school. It didn’t take long to settle into a comfortable routine there.
Rob still barely acknowledged me, but at least he no longer bit my head off if I dared to speak to him. I suppose you could call that progress.
When I got home Thursday afternoon, Dad was there. He was stretched out on the couch, sound asleep. I tried to cover him with a throw blanket without waking him, but he opened one eye and peered up at me anyway.
“Mm…hey there, ladybug,” he mumbled, struggling to sit up while stretching at the same time. “School out already?”
“It’s nearly four. How long have you been asleep?”
“Since about…I don’t know, eleven.” Yawning, he raked a hand through thick hair the same coffee-colored shade of brown as mine. “So tell me about your week. You didn’t say very much when I called you the other night. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine.”
“How’s school?”
“Pretty good. Not crazy about calculus, but you know me - I hate math in general. Mr. Weston loves to give a lot of homework too.”
“I assume this is the point where I’m supposed to supply one of those little parent witticisms about homework building character?” Dad propped his feet on the coffee table with a grin.
“Spare me. I don’t need any more character.”
“Rob at practice?”
“As far as I know.”
“How are the two of you getting along?”
I hesitated. “All right, I guess. We don’t really talk much.”
“Correction - he doesn’t talk much. You talk enough for the both of you and then some.”
I shrugged. “Hey, it’s a dirty job but somebody’s gotta do it.”
“Feel like going out to eat tonight?”
“No…you’re tired. I was planning on making dinner for you tonight anyway. How does spaghetti sound?”
“Sounds like I need to increase your spending limit,” he joked.
“You wouldn’t hear me complaining!”
Rob still wasn’t back when we sat down to dinner that night. Maybe he was eating at Trent’s again. All I knew was, other than snacks he hadn’t been eating at home. He never even got in until right at ten.
“This is delicious,” Dad complimented me.
“It’s not hard to make spaghetti. Ragú did most of the work. All I did was boil some noodles and nuke the sauce.”
“Still, it’s good.” He reached for another piece of garlic toast. “Rob been getting in before curfew?”
“Yes. He has.”
“I didn’t figure it would be a problem. He seems to be pretty responsible.”
“Dad…?”
“Hm?”
“Did he…do you know if his parents had any life insurance?”
“No, they didn’t. Why do you ask?”
“No reason. I just wondered.” Every time I recalled the way Rob had looked at me when he callously claimed he wasn’t sorry, I wondered. How could I not? “What happened to their cars? Did they burn too?”
“No, they went back to the BMW dealership. I think Buck had a bad habit of trying to live above his means.”
“What about homeowners insurance?”
“Yes, they did have that. The bank required it.”
“Was there anything left over after the bank was paid off?”
“Some, yes. Not a lot. Most of the surplus was spent on funeral arrangements.”
I twirled some spaghetti around on my fork. “Were there many people at the funeral?”
“Not very many, no.”
“Did his grandparents come? Mrs. Kensington’s parents?”
I saw the clenching of my father’s jaw and knew the answer before he confirmed it. “No. Hard to believe, but they didn’t.”
“Jesus.” I shook my head in disgust. What parents could be so coldhearted and unforgiving that they couldn’t even be bothered to attend their own daughter’s funeral? That was just sick. People like that shouldn’t be allowed to have kids in the first place.
“Why all the questions about insurance?”
“Just curious.” I turned my head at the sound of the front door opening and closing. Well, well…look who decided to come home early.
Sauntering into the kitchen, Rob honored us with his usual wildly enthusiastic greeting. “Hey.”
“Hey there, son. Grab a plate and join us.”
To my astonishment, he did. He actually fixed himself a plate of food and sat down to eat with us. So, it appeared the rules changed when my dad was around. I guess that shouldn’t have surprised me. You don’t bite the hand that feeds you.
“How was practice?” Dad asked him. “About ready for your first game?”
“We have a strong team this year. I think we’re definitely ready.”
“Simpson’s a good coach. I’d never own up to admitting this, but he’s a vast improvement over Weston.”
“Well, that was before my time but I’ll agree that Simpson’s a good coach. He’s tough but he knows what he’s doing.”
I sat there and listened to them yammering on about football while quietly picking at my food. How was it that Rob could freely converse with my father but he couldn’t find two words to say to me? He
had to be the most frustrating person I’d ever dealt with in my entire life. I wanted to grab him by those hard, ripped arms and shake some rationality into him.
After dinner my dad excused himself for the night to catch up on his sleep. He’s always exhausted when he gets home from a shift. I busied myself clearing the table and loading the dishwasher. It didn’t take long and once I was done, I headed into the living room. But something halted me dead in my tracks.
It was Rob. And it wasn’t so much what he was doing, but the way he was doing it.
He was sitting with his legs crossed on the sofa and a cigarette lighter in his hand, one of those old-timey vintage metal ones that flip open at the top. His head was tilted slightly to one side as he gazed hypnotically at the dancing orange-blue flame. Like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. He seemed mesmerized by it, lost in it. Completely absorbed in its movements.
Then his eyes turned toward me, and I could see the flame reflected in them. It continued to flicker and burn while he searched me, studying my reaction. I tried to swallow but my mouth was dry.
Ever so slightly, his lips curved upward.
That night I took Dana’s advice. I locked my door.
“What I don’t understand is why he’d do it if there wasn’t any insurance money. What would be the point?”
“How should I know? Maybe he’s just a crazy pyromaniac! Maybe it gives him a thrill to watch things burn!”
It was Saturday night and I was sprawled out with my iPhone across the carpeted floor at the Westons’ house, babysitting Peyton. She’d finally fallen asleep after four bedtime stories. I don’t mind reading to her - I enjoy it. She likes it when I do the voices. Cookie Monster is her favorite.
“I still say he’s just trying to psych you out,” was Dana’s theory.
“I don’t know why he’d go to the trouble. The guy can’t stand to be anywhere near me.” Was he hoping I’d decide to move back to Illinois? If so, he was wasting his time. That wasn’t going to happen.
“You know what they say. There’s a thin line between love and hate!”
“Right. Tell whoever says that they’re full of crap.”
“Have you checked your smoke detectors lately?”
“I’m way ahead of you. They’re fully functional.”