by Marie Lamba
“Hi there.” Hi there? What am I, in kindergarten? I fumble for the seatbelt.
Cameron reaches across my chest and grabs the belt, clicking it in place. “Ready?”
He’s wearing a blue and white striped button up shirt and khaki shorts, and he smells a little of cologne. I take a deep breath and nod. “Nice car.”
“Isn’t she sweet?” He caresses the dashboard. “And she can really move.” To demonstrate, he zooms down the drive and speeds past my house. I shrink into my seat.
The tires squeal as Cameron races around a bend, telling me about miles per gallon, the power of the engine, and how he enhanced the music system. “Listen to this quality.” He flicks the music back on. Its pounding shakes my teeth. He’s still telling me something, but I can’t hear him. Whenever he looks at me, I just nod and smile.
The Mustang shoots along the road, tearing around corners. I grip the armrest. I have no idea where we’re going. Where do twenty-year-olds go on a date? A few swift turns and I find out: the same place sixteen-year-olds go. The movie multiplex. He peels into a parking spot and jams on the brakes, making us both pitch forward and then back. He cuts the music and the engine. Silence.
He rests his arm on the back of my seat. “I was thinking we could see a scary movie.”
“Great,” I say, even though scary movies give me nightmares and make me kind of nauseous. Then again, there are plenty of chances to grab onto him in fear.
“Great.” He reaches his left arm over, unhooks my belt, and slides it toward the door. His arm stays there and he kisses me. Cameron whispers, “This is going to be fun.”
I’m about to speak when his mouth is on mine again. The kiss turns passionate.
Cameron’s hand rubs my arm. My heart is pounding louder than any car stereo ever could. His thumb skims my breast.
I push him away. “We don’t want to miss the movie,” I say.
“Right. I thought… Am I making you uncomfortable?”
I shrug.
He taps the steering wheel a few times. “Look, I’m sorry. Can we start over?” He gets out of the car and appears at my door. He opens it and extends his hand to me as if I’m a princess. “Shall we?”
At the ticket counter he orders two tickets for One Gory Night.
“That’s an ‘R’ movie, sir,” the guy at the counter says. “I need to see some ID.”
Cameron whips out his license, but there is no ID in the world that will say that I am seventeen. We end up getting tickets for an animated PG movie called The Fuzziest Bear. He leads me into the lobby, his hand on the small of my back. “Sorry,” I say, completely and thoroughly embarrassed.
“That’s the price I pay for dating jail-bait,” Cameron says. I feel a bit stung, but he says, “Hey, I’m only kidding.”
Cameron tries to convince me he secretly loves movies about fuzzy bears while we head over to the snack counter. “Don’t tell anybody,” he jokes.
“Your secret is safe.” I smile.
“Thanks. But seriously, I’m sure we can just sneak into One Gory Night.”
I hear a squeal behind me. “Sang?”
It’s Monique and Jackie. Their eyes are huge.
“Oh, hey.” I introduce them to Cameron and they giggle.
“Okay,” he says after being stared at for a long while. “Why don’t I get the popcorn while you hang out here?”
As soon as he leaves, Monique grabs my arm. “Tell everything, quick—before he comes back.”
“Well, his name is Cameron. He’s a lifeguard and a junior in college.”
“Oh my God, Sang,” Jackie says. “Is that why you dumped Dalton?”
“I didn’t and it isn’t.”
“Sure,” Monique says. “Sang Jumnal, you are one lucky, lucky girl. So much for all that stuff you said at Anna’s pool party, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, you said that guys aren’t important.”
“Yeah,” Jackie says. “And that this summer we should all do something important.”
“More like do somebody,” Monique says. Jackie snorts.
“Ha, ha,” I say. “Very funny.” I have done something important with my time, haven’t I? Well, I’ve taken care of Poopsie. Truly, the world will never be the same.
“Seriously, Sang,” Jackie says. “Does Cameron have a friend? Someone tall, dark and fabulous?”
“Yeah, Sang,” Monique says, craning her head to see Cameron by the food counter. “Here’s your chance to do something wonderful. Why don’t you order us up two more just like him?”
“Actually, I don’t know any of his friends. It’s our first date.”
“Figures,” Jackie says. She waves at somebody and her eyebrows suddenly furrow. “Sang, brace yourself.”
I look over my shoulder and see Gary and Dalton coming toward us.
“What are they doing here?”
“We’re meeting them,” Jackie says, and bites her pinkie nail.
“This is unbelievable.”
“Take it easy,” Monique says. “It’s not a date.”
“Tell Cameron I’m in the bathroom,” I say. But before I can escape, Gary and Dalton are there.
“Hey, guys,” I say. Gary says hi. Dalton says nothing. “Gary, when did you get back?”
“Yesterday. How are things going?”
“Okay.”
“More like excellent,” Monique whispers.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” Dalton says to me.
“Oh. Well.”
“Ready, babe?” Cameron says, a tub of popcorn in his arm.
“Oh. Yeah. Everybody, this is Cameron.”
“He’s a lifeguard,” Monique says. Jackie nudges her.
Gary says hi. Dalton studies the carpet.
“Nice to meet you all,” Cameron says, taking my hand and leading me away. I glance back and Dalton glares at me.
*****
We pull into the Schnapps’ driveway, laughing about the movie we just saw. We did try to sneak into the horror flick, but were stopped by a security guard who was checking tickets. How incredibly, utterly mortifying. But we still managed to have a good time at the animated movie—booing the coyote villain and rooting for the bear hero. “I didn’t know you were such a soft touch,” I say now.
“Me? Never.”
“Come on. You teared up when that bunny lost his mother.”
“There was popcorn salt in my eye.”
“Sure.” I laugh.
Cameron cuts the engine. “That was fun,” he says. “Hang on.” He gets out and leads me to the front door. Poopsie is yipping ferociously on the other side.
“Well. Thank you,” I say.
He takes my hands. “Any time. So, why are we standing at a neighbor’s house?”
“I have to let the dog out before I get home. That’s all.”
“Okay.” He puts his hand behind my neck and kisses me deeply. It’s really nice. “Fourth of July tomorrow. Means no swim lessons. Means I won’t see you until—”
“You want to come in?” This is either the dumbest or the smartest thing I’ve ever said.
“Nobody’s home, right?” He kisses me again. “I’d better not. Unless…”
“Unless?”
“Unless you really want to let me in.”
Before you know it I’m unlocking the door and throwing it open. Poopsie escapes, pees on the grass, then starts running in circles around the front yard. “Oh crap,” I say, racing after her. Cameron starts running too.
“Go left,” he says, turning right. Suddenly we have Poopsie cornered by the hedges along the edge of the property. The dog sits.
I quickly scoop her up. “Bad doggie.”
“Aw,” Cameron says, rubbing her ears. “She’s cute. She just wanted a little walk on the wild side.” Poopsie wags her tail.
Inside the Schnapps’ house, I close the door and set Poopsie down. Cameron and I go into the living room and sit on the red velvet couch. He leans toward me ever so s
lowly for a kiss. I close my eyes and tilt closer. My lips hit poodle fur.
“Poopsie!” I push her off the couch and wipe my mouth.
Cameron cracks up and takes my hand. “I’m really having a great time with you tonight, Sang.”
I look at our hands together. “Me too. I…”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I say and crinkle my brow, my mind full of unasked questions about him and Trish.
“Something’s bugging you, isn’t it?” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “You can tell me whatever’s on your mind. Okay?”
I nod.
“So what did you want to ask me?”
Suddenly I don’t feel like talking. I put my hand on his warm cheek and look into his eyes. He leans in slowly, pausing just before our lips touch. I can feel the heat between us. Our mouths meet. We kiss deeply—passionately. My breathing speeds up. My nose whistles! It actually plays the melody to “Doe a deer,” like it’s starring in The Sound of Music. It stops. Cameron doesn’t seem to have noticed anything.
We kiss some more. My nose again plays, “Doe a deer.” God no.
Cameron stops in mid-kiss, puts his mouth by my ear, and sings, “a female deer.” He looks me in the eye. I bite my lip, sure I’m going to completely die of mortification. Only I don’t. Instead, we both burst out laughing.
And kiss some more. Good thing the Broadway nose show seems to have closed down. Before I realize it, I’m lying back on the couch. Cameron is partly on top of me. His lips travel down my neck.
I should stop him. This is our first date.
He’s running his tongue along my collarbone. Oh wow.
I should stop him, even though I don’t want to. I twine my fingers through his hair. I shiver and tell myself, don’t think.
But I do think. If I stop him, am I being a prude? If I don’t stop him, am I like Trish?
Cameron seems to sense my hesitation and looks up at me, his face flushed. “You okay?”
Yes! No! “Actually, Cameron, could we just talk for a while?” He studies me for a moment, then forces a smile. “Sure. Wait a sec. Let’s get a little more comfortable first.”
He lies alongside me, his arm around my shoulder, my head resting on his neck. We talk about all sorts of things. Like how he was this dork in middle school and the shortest kid in his class. And how in elementary school I wanted to be a ballerina, until I discovered twirling around made me fall over—especially in the middle of recitals.
“Poor little Sang,” he says, kissing the top of my head. I snuggle in closer. “Guess we’ll check ballerina off your list of future jobs, then.”
“How’s your list looking these days?”
He takes in a deep breath. “The future’s looking grim, actually. Last year was pretty screwed up. Let’s just say things haven’t exactly gone my way.”
“Hey, you want to talk about it?” I ask.
“Nah. Anyway, things are looking much better right now.” He gives me a meaningful look.
“And we’ve got all summer,” I dare to say.
“I might have to go away.”
“On vacation?”
“Not exactly.” He rubs his eyes. “Sang, no one at the pool can know about this, so this is just between the two of us, okay?”
I nod.
“I kind of blew a required course last semester,” he says. “I had to take an incomplete, and if my professor doesn’t like the paper I’m sending him, I’ll have to leave my job, go back to campus and do the class again during the second summer session. If I don’t pass the class again, well, let’s just say I have to pass it.”
“When would this happen?”
“If my paper isn’t good enough, then pretty soon.”
“But you’ll be back when this class is done, right? And on the weekends?”
He studies me. “Only if there’s something real that’s worth coming back for, you know?”
I nod and swallow hard. He rubs my cheek with his thumb.
Poopsie jumps onto the couch and lies down on Cameron’s stomach.
“She certainly likes you,” I say.
“I have that affect on women.”
“Like Trish,” I say, sitting up. “She seems to think you’re hers. Did you know that?”
He sighs. “What can I tell you? I’m not into her. I never have been. She throws these crazy parties and all the guards go. She’s got a great car, so I drive it sometimes. And she’s a huge flirt. That’s it. Believe me.”
I want to believe.
“She’s not like you,” he says. “You’re smart, and funny, and I really like talking with you, and…” He looks adorably awkward and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at this,” he says.
I smile and he pulls me back into his strong arms.
I feel protected. And cared for. And it’s all very real to me.
Chapter 18
The next morning is Wednesday, the Fourth of July. We all get ready for the picnic. Hari and Raina are packing up food with Dad in the kitchen. Mom is folding a large Indian print bed sheet for us to sit on. Everybody but me is wearing American flag T-shirts—even Raina, who borrowed mine. Mom sends me into the basement to gather up paper napkins, plates and plastic cutlery from a shelf.
I dump these on the dining table next to the giant purple tote we’re bringing.
“Sang, where’s your patriotic spirit?” Mom asks, noticing my gray T-shirt and black shorts.
“Here,” I say, showing her the red, white and blue hair ties holding up my ponytail.
“Wow. You really outdid yourself.” She stuffs the blanket into the tote.
“Do you think I can bring Poopsie along? She could use some company.”
“Good question. I’m not sure they allow dogs. But it is outdoors.”
“Can I try? If they say no, I can always bring her back.”
“I guess. Just don’t bring her too close to me.” She shivers.
“Mom, you suffer from Poodlephobia. You should really face your fears, you know.”
“Very funny,” she says, tucking some frizz into her bun.
“I’m serious. What if someday you’re surrounded by a herd of angry toy poodles, and they’re nipping at your feet, and wagging those deadly little lollipop-shaped tails of theirs at you? How will you survive?”
“Just go tell Doodles we’re ready to go.”
We all set off on foot with Poopsie tugging at the leash. As we near Fonthill I can hear a woman belting out “God Bless America” over the loudspeaker.
We get in the line to pay and Raina cranes her head to see beyond the admission table. Ahead of us is the long drive lined with giant sycamores, their bark speckled brown and green and tan like army fatigues. I notice Hari looking up at the trees. I suspect he’s thinking about Michelle Baldarasi.
Beyond the trees at the end of the drive is the castle, a tall and twisty mix of cement walls, long windows and oddly shaped balconies. People are all along the drive and in the fields on either side. I see babies in strollers, toddlers holding balloons, grandparents in straw hats blotting their necks with handkerchiefs, and kids on tacky decorated bikes. But hardly a teen and no dogs.
“Sorry, Poopsie,” I say. “I may need to take you straight home.”
“How many?” the guy at the table says to us.
I turn. “Dalton? What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Raina,” he says.
“Who’s this?” Dad says, pulling his wallet out. “A friend of yours?”
As hot as the weather already is, I feel my face heat up even more. “Mom, Dad, this is Dalton Dreyfus.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dalton says and reaches out to shake my Dad’s hand.
Dad places money on Dalton’s outstretched palm.
“Very nice to meet you,” Mom says sweetly.
The singer on the flag-studded stage by the castle is crooning, “Stand beside her, and guide her…” Dalton stamps an American flag on each person’s han
d. When Dalton stamps a flag on Raina, he says, “Have fun.”
“Thanks,” I say, even though he’s not talking to me. He pounds the stamper on my hand, leaving a smeared flag.
I say, “Should we try again, or will this flag be okay? I have to get back in again, because I have to take the dog home.”
“No need to try again,” he says. “The dog’s welcome to stay.” He stares into my eyes. “Just clean up your mess.”
“Right. Good to see you, Dalton.”
“Next,” he says.
We drag our stuff up the drive and find a spot under the shade of a large tree. I swipe away tiny gnats buzzing around my face. The sun is intense and high overhead, and I’m already wet with sweat. Not exactly a great day for picnics and races. A better day for the pool.
The pool. Cameron. Sigh.
Mom and Hari spread the blanket, which flutters and makes the elephants printed on it seem to dance. I immediately fall onto it and groan. “I need something cold. Hari, hand me a soda or something.”
He lifts the cooler lid, pulls out a root beer, opens it, and chugs it.
“Thanks a lot. Mom? Anybody? A drink for me?” Poopsie licks my face. “Thanks. That’s lovely.”
Later on, we’re lounging on the blankets, enjoying our meal. Raina and Dad went to the Indian grocery store last night and conspired to stock our cooler with nimbu-pani (limeade), and the tote has deep-fried pakoras and sandwiches filled with chole (chick peas) or baingan (smushed up spiced eggplant). I taste everything except the baingan. I try the gobi (cauliflower) pakoras, which are just okay. The potato ones, though, are excellent. Doodles isn’t so crazy about any of this and has a hot dog from the refreshment stand. I give Poopsie some bread, which she devours. She sniffs Mom’s foot and Mom jumps up like a cockroach just touched her.
“Take it easy, Lena,” Dad says.
“Yeah, Mom,” I say. “Chill. What’s the problem?”
Mom rubs her temples. “Okay, if you must know, when I was little, I was visiting an uncle of mine in upstate New York with my family. They had a new dog, a cute little poodle.” A shiver runs through her. “I went to play with it in the garage, where they had a little bed and some toys for it. But I accidentally got locked in there for hours.”