Burning Down the House

by Allie Gail

“It’s a part in The Nutcracker,” I clarified.

  “Sorry, I’m not about anything that involves the cracking of nuts.” He placed a hand over his crotch to illustrate his point. “You actually have dudes in your class?”

  “Not in my class, no. There’s a few younger boys in the intermediate class. We’re getting a couple of dance majors from Temple University to fill in for the advanced roles.” That was certainly something to look forward to. As Snow Queen, I’d be partnered with one of them for the pas de deux with the Snow King. They were supposed to start practicing with us in two months, after Thanksgiving break.

  “I’ll put on a tutu and come dance with you,” Doug offered, standing up to clumsily twirl his husky body with arms curved over his head, beer still in one hand. We all cracked up at the sight - even Rob, if you can believe that.

  “I think you need a few more lessons. No offense,” I giggled.

  “Your loss.” He gave a regal bow before taking his seat. “I’ve actually been told I’m very light on my feet.”

  “Light in your head is more like it,” Trent snorted.

  I tilted my head to look over at him. “Hey…let me ask you something.”

  “Okay.”

  “Why do you go out with Staci?” Might as well cut straight to the chase here.

  “I don’t go out with Staci.”

  “I heard you did.”

  “You heard wrong then.”

  “So you’re not together?”

  “Hell to the no. Why you askin’?”

  “She didn’t ask you to be her escort? For the homecoming coronation?”

  “No. Why? Someone say I was her escort?”

  I shook my head. “Would you like to be? I mean, not for her but for someone else.”

  “Who?” He gave me a suspicious look.

  “How about Dana?”

  “Dana? Where’s this coming from?”

  “I dunno…” I shrugged innocently. “I was just thinking the two of you would look good together.”

  “Nice try, but Dana Landry would never go for that. Girl can’t stand me.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Uh…her favorite name for me is Manwhore Myers!”

  “Because she thinks you’re banging Staci!”

  “I’m not banging Staci.” He caught Doug’s eye and grinned. “Anymore.”

  I rolled my eyes while they both snickered. “Whatever. So basically then, you don’t have a date for the dance either?”

  “I wasn’t even planning on going. It’s gonna be boring as shit.”

  “But if you asked Dana, I know she’d go with you,” I persisted.

  Trent propped one arm over the back of the couch and gave me a skeptical look. “What makes you think that?”

  “Just trust me on this one.” He still acted as if he didn’t know whether or not to believe me, so I threw all my cards on the table. “Do I have to hire someone to illustrate it? She thinks you’re hot, brainiac! Jeez!”

  “You serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious!”

  “She told you that?”

  “Yes!” God, were all guys this oblivious or what? It occurred to me then that they apparently weren’t any better at reading us than we were at deciphering them.

  “Who are you going with?” Doug interjected. “Are you going?”

  “Riley.” I noticed Rob’s eyes shift to me for a split second before he casually returned his attention to the TV.

  “I thought Riley said he was gonna ask Jordan,” Doug mused, turning up his bottle to swallow.

  Trent shot him a dirty look. “It’s called tact, you fucknut!”

  “Well…I didn’t mean anything by it! I was just sayin’, you know…”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I gave Doug’s knee a reassuring pat. “Maybe he asked her first and she turned him down, I don’t know. He just asked me a little while ago. So are you going?”

  “Yeah…Melanie Walker roped me into taking her. I don’t know what she expects me to do there. I can’t dance for shit.”

  “There’ll probably be more socializing than dancing.”

  “Total waste of time,” Rob muttered.

  “Why do you say that?” I cornered him.

  He fixed his gaze on me. “Isn’t socializing what we’re doing right now? And we didn’t have to get all dressed up to go do it. Did we?”

  “Dude has a point,” Trent backed him up.

  “Maybe that’s your opinion, but I’ll have you know girls like getting dressed up,” I argued. “And once in a while we like seeing you slobs in something besides jeans and football jerseys!”

  “Like Egyptian cotton?” The barest whisper of a smile touched his lips. I knew exactly what he meant by that, even if nobody else did. Flustered, I focused all my concentration on snagging a loose thread from the hem of my t-shirt, trying to shut out the image of him with only a beige cotton towel draped over his head. Thank God the delivery person suddenly showed up at the front door with the pizzas.

  I scarfed down a quick slice with them before excusing myself to my room to concentrate on the dreaded physics homework. It took twice as long as it should have, thanks to my wandering mind. Every once in a while I could hear laughter coming from the living room and I wondered what they were talking about.

  A good hour and a half later, I finally closed the book and escaped to my bathroom for a nice long soak in the tub. By the time I was done bathing, washing my hair and shaving my legs, the bubbles I’d added had pretty much fizzled away. I was lounging there in the tepid water, relaxed and content and on the brink of sleep, when the bathroom door burst open.

  “Hellooo, baaaa-by!”

  Startled, I floundered to cover my boobs while splashing water over the side of the tub and all across the floor in the process. “What the hell! What are you - get out of here!” I threw a loofah at him but in my haste I missed.

  Ignoring my demand, Rob moseyed over to kneel beside the bathtub, propping his arms on the edge and smirking at my compromising position. There weren’t any bubbles left to hide under, so I quickly drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. “What are you, deaf? I said get out!”

  “I heard what you said.” To my amazement, he dipped his fingers in the water and swirled them around. “Water’s getting cold.”

  “Then take your hand out of it!” I snapped, my cheeks flushing pink.

  “I think we should let it out.” He reached underwater for the drain stopper, and his grin slowly spread as my eyes widened.

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “See…payback’s a bitch, now isn’t it?”

  “Don’t touch that drain. I mean it.” To my horror, I felt an overwhelming urge to laugh and I pressed my lips together to suppress a smile. For some idiotic reason, whenever I get nervous I start giggling like a deranged person. I have no idea why. It’s very annoying, especially because it happens at the most inopportune moments.

  “I thought we were playing You-Show-Me-Yours-And-I’ll-Show-You-Mine.” He lifted the edge of the stopper just enough to tease me, allowing a small amount of water to escape. “Well, you had your go and now it’s my turn.”

  “I think you’ve had one too many beers!” That probably wasn’t even far from the truth. After all, I’d never seen him acting this cheeky before.

  “Whoops. Oh my goodness - what do we have here?” He plucked the stopper completely out and held it up, just out of my reach. The water began to rush down the drain. To me it seemed to be disappearing ten times faster than usual.

  “It’s not funny!” I protested, even though I was struggling not to giggle at that point. My shoulders were shaking.

  “I’m not the one laughing,” he reminded me.

  “All right - fine, you got me back. Ha, ha, you’re so clever. At least hand me a towel.”

  “Mm…I don’t think so.”

  “Hand me a freaking towel!” The water was getting perilously low, and I shoved one foot over the drain to
try and diminish the flow.

  “You didn’t say please…” he sang softly.

  “Rob…” I looked straight at him then, directly into those hazel eyes, and something I saw in them squashed my impulse to laugh. I don’t know what it was, but all of a sudden the only impulse I felt anymore was the overpowering urge to kiss him. And not only that. I had the craziest compulsion to wrap my arms around his neck and pull him on top of me and let him do me six ways to Sunday, right there in the bathtub.

  My expression must have been transparent because his smile inexplicably faded. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching mine. For what, I can’t say. But I guess he didn’t find what he was looking for there. Straightening, he tossed me the drain stopper and walked out without a word.

  I climbed out of the tub to close and lock the door behind him, then leaned against it while waiting for my rapid breathing to slow. Water dripped from my wet hair into small puddles on the floor, and I finally reached for a towel. I hadn’t realized it until just now, but I was trembling all over. He’d shaken me to the core with just one lingering look. And what the hell was up with that? The guy was a prick! Why on earth would I want him anywhere near me?

  Still unsettled, I quickly towel dried my hair, brushed my teeth and then padded into my room to pull on some panties and a nightshirt. With the only way into my bathroom being through the bedroom, I’d never seen a reason to lock the door before. It looked as though that was about to change. Next time the jerk might decide to snap a photo with his cell phone or something. Yeah, that was all I needed. My naked ass plastered all over the internet.

  I was just crawling into bed when Dad called from DC to check on things, so I filled him in on everything that had been going on. Well…not everything, obviously. Mostly just talk about homecoming. And when I got a text message two minutes after saying bye to Dad, I figured it had to be from either Dana or Riley.

  It was from the idiot down the hall: Nice rack, btw.

  I probably should’ve been indignant, but instead it made me smile. My snarky reply: How r u texting with only one free hand?

  Him: It isn’t easy!

  Me: Lol, shut up and go to sleep.

  Him: I will after I’m done.

  Me: PERV!

  Him: L8r. Need both hands for this.

  I was still smiling when I drifted into sleep.

  7

  Friday dragged on and on until I thought it would never end. Actually, I think there really is some kind of illusion that makes it appear as if time has stalled. I heard once that theoretically, if there’s no energy to produce movement, then time can’t exist because there’s no point of reference. Judging by the lack of energy and movement in my seventh period physics class, there was a certain logic to that. Suffering from end-of-week burnout and just plain boredom, half the class was nodding off at their desks. We were all ready to get the heck out of there, and the clock’s sluggish hands seemed to be bogged down in quicksand. But finally - finally - the last bell rang and like magic, the entire student body of Hillcrest High sprang to life.

  When I caught up with Dana in the hallway, she played it coy until we reached the parking lot. Then she gave me the news. “Guess who in last period just invited me to the homecoming dance…and volunteered to be my escort?”

  “Umm…I dunno…isn’t Larry Adams in your anthropology class?” I gave her a deliberately innocent look, knowing Larry Adams is the grossest, most obnoxious pig imaginable. A senior in high school and he still thinks farting in public is the height of comedic entertainment. Plus he’s obviously never heard of deodorant. There isn’t a female at HHS who would touch him with a ten foot pair of tweezers and a hazmat suit.

  “Oh, yeah…haven’t I ever told you how hot Larry gets me?” Dana moaned in a husky voice. “Mm…the way he’s always digging in his nose, it just drives me wild…and when he bends over and I get a clear view of that Grand Canyon ass crack of his…ooh…” Abruptly breaking character, she snorted back a giggle. “Oh my God, I can’t even say that with a straight face. No, R-tard - Trent!”

  “You’re kidding!” I pretended to be surprised. “So he’s not taking Staci?”

  “Nope. They weren’t even together. I think she was just trying to convince everyone they were.”

  “Damn. Now that’s pathetic.”

  “I know, right! If she gets crowned queen I swear I’ll blow chunks right there on the field. I don’t even care if it’s not me that gets it, as long as it’s anyone but her.”

  “I honestly don’t think she stands a chance.”

  “I hope not!” Dana dug through her purse for her car keys. “What time you want me to pick you up?”

  “How long’s it take to get to Keyser, about half an hour? So…sixish?” We were riding to tonight’s game together since it was an out-of-towner. “Unless you feel like stopping somewhere to eat first.”

  “Nah, we can just get some nachos at the concession stand.” She glanced up from her purse. “Hey, did you know Trent and Riley were trying to talk Rob into throwing a blowout at your house tomorrow night?”

  “What!? Are you serious?” I could feel my blood start to boil.

  “They knew your dad would be working, so…”

  “So they thought they’d invite everyone over to get plastered and trash my house? Oh hell no, I don’t think so!”

  “Chill out. Rob told them there was no effing way.”

  “He did?” I let myself relax some.

  “Yeah. I knew that was never gonna happen anyway. Can’t exactly picture him hosting a party, can you?”

  “Definitely not!”

  “I could see my dad showing up to raid your house,” she laughed, unlocking her Camry and opening the door. “Classic. I’ll swing by at six or a little after, okay?”

  “’Kay. Bye.” I walked over to the Tahoe where Rob was already waiting inside. He doesn’t have practice on Fridays, so that’s the only day we ride home together - if you don’t count Tuesdays, when he drops me off before going to see his therapist. Then he goes straight to practice afterwards. Guess Coach Simpson excuses him for being late on those days.

  “About time,” he muttered as I hopped into the SUV.

  “You in a hurry to get home and brood?”

  As usual, all I got for my wit was a sullen look. He’d been equally crabby this morning on the way to school. So much for last night’s uninhibited side of him. The Grinch was back in full force.

  “I think you need to drink more often,” I suggested dryly.

  “Is that right.”

  “Yeah. At least then you wouldn’t be so damn cranky all the time!”

  He ignored me, concentrating instead on pulling out of the parking lot. I hated it when he did that, when he just blew me off. Like I was so irrelevant that nothing I said even warranted acknowledgment. I might have taken it personally if I hadn’t witnessed him acting the same way to other people. One day last week I saw Staci trying to hug up on him in front of his locker and he told her to fuck off. Okay, so maybe that particular incident was pretty funny. But it was surprising to me that he had any friends at all.

  “So what’s this I hear about a party tomorrow night?” I was in a talkative mood, even if he wasn’t.

  His eyes never left the road. That was another thing about him that drove me crazy - the way he tried to avoid looking directly at me. “There’s no party.”

  “How did that idea even come up in the first place?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I handled it.”

  “Sometimes I think you need to put Trent Myers on a leash. I mean, I like him and all, but jeez…”

  “Trent wasn’t the one who came up with the bright idea. It was your - it was Riley.” Did I imagine it, or was there an acidic emphasis on Riley’s name?

  “You can’t tell me Trent wasn’t in on it too!”

  He had nothing to say to that, which meant I was probably right. Trent was a very sweet and charismatic guy, but he had a wild streak in him a mile
wide. I had to feel a little sorry for Dana. Then again, maybe the pity was best reserved for myself. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I secretly had the hots for someone who couldn’t stand the sight of me. And it sure as hell wasn’t Riley Murphy.

  “Look out…we’re back…the Hornets are here! The best…that’s right…this is our year! Step back…and watch…you’re looking at the best! We’re loud! We’re proud! We’re H-H-S!”

  Beside me in the stands, Dana clapped and chanted with the cheerleaders and the rest of the visitor section while I flipped through a catalog I’d brought along. Not that I wasn’t interested in the game, but we were going dress shopping tomorrow and I wanted to get some ideas.

  “Look - this one’s cute.” I pointed to a strappy teal cocktail dress.

  “It’s too plain,” she disapproved.

  “Yeah, but I like the color.”

  “You need something darker. No pastels.”

  “You think?”

  “Trust me.” We both looked up at the sound of the announcer’s voice.

  “Murphy takes it…fakes the handoff, keeps it to himself…he’s up to the thirty-five, he’s up to the forty, the forty-five, the fifty…taken out of bounds at the thirty-five yard line in Sentinel territory! Big run for senior quarterback Riley Murphy. First down for the Hornets.”

  I waited for the applause to die down, then returned my attention to the pages on my lap. “What do you think of this one?”

  “Oh my dear Lord, that looks like something an eight-year-old would wear to a birthday party! Gimme that.” She snatched the catalog out of my hands and flipped through a few pages before jabbing her finger at a short, skintight red number. “Now this is more you.”

  Seeing the one she indicated, I made a face. “It looks like a hooker outfit!”

  “It does not!”

  “Yes it does! It’s so tight you can see the outline of her friggin’ belly button!”

  “I think it would look good on you.”

  “Seriously, that is not happening. I’d be self-conscious all night.” I tried to divert her attention from the streetwalker ensemble. “Are you getting a different dress for the dance?”

  “I don’t think my mom would go for that. I’ll probably just wear my coronation gown.”