Over My Head

by Marie Lamba

  “Such as?” Doodles says from the back seat.

  Hari grins and whistles.

  “Oh, you can’t be serious. It’s Michelle, isn’t it?”

  “Oooh,” Doodles says.

  Hari scratches his chin. “Mind your business.”

  “I thought you were done with her,” I say. “You said she was a stalker. Didn’t he say that, Raina?”

  “You did say that,” she says.

  “Woo-hoo, Hari’s in looooove,” Doodles says.

  “Are you?” I say in a mock serious voice.

  “We’re just messing around. That’s all. Now everybody get off my back before I dump you all on the street.”

  We’re silent for a while, until Doodles starts making smoochy sounds. Raina and I crack up. Hari scowls.

  After Hari drops us at the pool, I feel like someone’s kicked me in the stomach. Cameron and Trish are wrestling in the shallow end. He’s got her around the waist, trying to dunk her, and she’s squealing like she’s terrified of getting wet. I head straight for them, while Doodles says, “Wrong way. You’re in our class now, dummy.”

  I stand on the edge, watching them laugh and twist in each other’s arms.

  “You’re going down,” Cameron says.

  “That’s what you think,” Trish says, facing him.

  “Cameron?” I call.

  He looks up. “Hey, Sang.”

  “Hey,” Trish says, placing her arms around his neck.

  “Cameron, can I talk to you for a sec?”

  “Sure.” He tries to push Trish away from him.

  “Ow. Cameron, wait. I’m stuck to you,” she says.

  You wish, I think. Then I notice she really is stuck. She has one of those “Contemplate Your Navel” belly jewels on. And it’s hooked onto the crotch of Cameron’s shorts.

  “Let me undo it,” she says, reaching down.

  “Uh, no,” he says, grabbing her hands. “You’d better let me.” While he works to unhook it, she rests her hands on his shoulders and smiles at me.

  “Can we do something for you?” she asks. “Your little lesson is about to start. You wouldn’t want to miss that.”

  I give her a steely smile back.

  “God, this thing is really in there,” Cameron says. “Can’t you take it off?”

  “Your bathing suit?” Trish says. “Again?”

  “Take your jewel thing off.”

  Now both their hands are down there. Oh God.

  “Kind of reminds you of last night, right baby?” Trish says and nuzzles her cheek against his.

  I feel my heart pounding in my ears.

  “Knock it off,” Cameron says, pulling his face away. “You’re blocking my view. Okay. Got it,” he says. They separate at last.

  “Thanks,” she says and kisses his cheek.

  Now I’m seething.

  “Can you get them started?” He nods to their two remaining little Non-swimmer students sitting on the wall. “I’ll be right there.” Cameron comes over to me. “Sorry about that.”

  “You and her were together last night?”

  “It was just a party thing. Everybody was skinny-dipping there. No big deal.”

  No big deal?

  “She’s just messing with you. I’ll talk to her again.” Cameron squeezes my ankle. “I missed you.” He gives me the most incredibly affectionate look.

  Now I can’t help but smile. “Yeah. I missed you too.” A quick glance at Trish’s sour expression cheers me even more. “Listen, about Friday. Can I meet you there? I’ll ride with Megan and Raina and Raina’s date, and you can bring Stan. Does that work?”

  “Sure. Stan has his own car, though, so we could both drive and fit everybody.”

  “That’s okay. It’ll work better this way.” If, that is, I’m actually allowed to go.

  “All right. If you’re sure. How ’bout I see you tonight after work?”

  “Uh. I can’t.”

  “Oh.”

  “I wish I could. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah. Guess I’ll just hang out with some of the guards then.”

  I glance over at Trish. She’s going to be with him every day at lessons and every night at parties. She’s always available—never has to say no or make excuses. Friday night is days and days away. By then our floundering relationship could be dead in the water. And then he’ll be gone…

  “Maybe I can see you later tonight,” I say, my throat dry. “I’ll let you know.”

  He grins.

  “Cameron, come on,” Trish says. “We have to get started.”

  He pats my leg. “Hey, you’d better hurry. Looks like your class is starting.”

  Over where Raina and Doodles are, a few kids in their class are in the water, face down, arms and legs out.

  “W-what are they doing?” I ask.

  “Dead man’s float.”

  “Have fu-un,” Trish says.

  *****

  “It’s too risky,” Raina says. “You’ll never pull it off.”

  “But I have to see him.”

  It’s Monday afternoon, and she and I have been forced by my dad to take Doodles and her friend Bethany to Burpee Park to sell yet more ice pops. Now the two of them are spending most of their time on the monkey bars, leaving Raina and I alone by the cooler in the shade of a giant oak tree.

  Raina kicks off her flip-flops and leans against the tree. “Sang, I thought you wanted to go with Cameron to the party.”

  “That’s still the plan. And I’ll still do the whole good girl stuff for the rest of the week. I just have to meet up with Cameron tonight without getting caught.” I swat a fly from my face. “Trish’s acting like he’s her boyfriend. I can’t let him spend another night with her. He’ll forget all about me.”

  “Sang, you’re exaggerating.”

  “Am I? Raina, how long were you away from Sanjay before he forgot about you?”

  Raina hugs her knees tight.

  “Look, I’m sorry to bring that up,” I say. “But you, better than anyone, should know where I’m coming from.”

  She rests her head on her knees. “Change the subject, please.”

  I check to make sure Doodles isn’t looking, and open the cooler to get two red ice pops. “Here. Don’t tell her. She’ll freak.” We peel off the white paper and start slurping at the partly melted pops. “Raina, you’re the master of sneaking. Think of something.”

  “You keep forgetting that I got caught.” She licks a drip from her wrist.

  “How did you get caught?”

  “We were careless. It was late at night and he insisted on walking me right up to my door to see that I was home safely.”

  We both finish our ice pops and chuck the sticks and wrappers into a plastic bag next to the cooler. “Sang, are you sure you must see him? This is worth the risk?”

  “Yes, Raina. He’s got to know how I feel about him, before…well, it’s important.”

  “Well, then. There is a way. But it works best with a cell.”

  We plot for a while, until Doodles runs up to us, sees our ice-pop-red lips, and demands we pay up. This ends up costing me far more than the fifty cents each, because this reminds her I still owe her for my private swim lessons and Anna’s birthday present. As soon as we drag the cooler back home, I have to take ninety-two dollars from my night table drawer and stick it into that jar of hers.

  Doodles adds her day’s ice pop profits to the jar, and she and Bethany start planning for another yard sale this Saturday. Doodles says, “I’m going to find more stuff from my closet and even look in the basement. You guys can help me.”

  “Sure,” I say. “Promise. But we’re kind of busy right now.” I pull Raina into my room, closing my door behind us. “Okay, Raina.” I pick up the phone, even though while I’m grounded I’m not supposed to use it. “Let Operation Cameron begin.”

  Chapter 27

  Raina said that back in India she used to go to bed fully dressed and keep her cell phone in her pocket
on vibrate. When Sanjay was waiting for her outside, he’d just text her.

  Without a phone, things are a lot more complicated. The whole staying up while pretending to be asleep thing for starters. Raina tried to stay up with me but was asleep by 12:15. By 12:40, I was sitting on the edge of my bed wondering, is Cameron even awake? I can’t risk using our phone to find out. I just have to trust. That’s what relationships are all about anyway. Trust.

  So I trust that he is up. And that he will be waiting for me at the appointed spot at the appointed time. I carry my flip-flops with me and tiptoe downstairs. I open the front door and then press it shut behind me. The full moon shines on me like a spotlight in a prison camp.

  I try to calm myself. This is what lovers do: rendezvous, have liaisons. It’s all very French and romantic. So I set down my flip-flops, step into them, and start walking.

  When planning the night, I was so wrapped up in the whole romance part of it that I didn’t even think about the creepy part. The part where I’m walking all alone through pools of moonlight where anybody can see me, and through long stretches of deep shadow where anything might lurk. I didn’t think about the mysterious scratching sounds I hear in bushes edging the road. Or that perhaps Fonthill Castle is not the most romantic, but the spookiest place to meet.

  I hurry along, reaching the castle drive in record time. Above me the thick sycamore branches stretch like snakes ready to coil around my neck and choke me.

  It’s okay. Cameron will be waiting.

  The drive goes on forever. Now I feel like I’m in one of those dreams where I walk and walk but never get where I have to go. Usually, though, there’s something chasing me. I glance back over my shoulder. Moonlight. Just moonlight.

  Moonlight’s romantic. This could easily be a scene from Pride and Prejudice. I am the plucky heroine, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the dashing yet misunderstood Mr. Darcy. As I near Fonthill and look up at its grand windows and balconies, I think tonight may just be the night I’m brave enough to ask him how he really feels about me. And to tell him the truth: Cameron Cerulli, I’m falling in love with you.

  Trish isn’t the only one who can be wild and exciting. Sang Jumnal is passive no more. And Megan Chung’s 3-step “I love you” plan will be a success at last.

  I sit on a wooden bench, scanning the deep shadows by the castle door. But no one is there. I cross my arms and shiver, even though it’s around eighty degrees tonight. He’ll be here soon. And everything will be fine.

  But what if he isn’t?

  What if there’s some psychopath on the loose? They don’t walk the streets by day, they sneak around at night, preying on silly lovesick girls wearing only shorts and tank tops, waiting for their boyfriends who are late.

  I cross my leg and bounce my foot up and down.

  You’d think Cameron would be extra early to get me, knowing that I’m here alone, waiting for him. Maybe he fell asleep. Maybe the psychopath got to him first and he’s lying in the shadow of that doorway right now bleeding to death…

  I stand and back away from the door. I hear a twig crack and bite my lip to keep in a scream. If I keep still, very still, maybe I won’t be seen.

  I feel hair stand up on my arms and neck. An icy finger touches my bare shoulder.

  I shriek! A hand covers my mouth.

  “Sang, shush. You want the cops to come?”

  “Cameron. Ohmygod.” I practically faint in his arms.

  “Chill out. It’s okay.”

  He holds me, and I gotta say there’s nothing in this world more wonderful than having a strong handsome guy holding you by a castle in the moonlight. This is it. The perfect moment.

  “Cameron,” I say and look up at him. “I’ve got to talk to you about something important.”

  He nuzzles my nose. “Sure. What?”

  “Cameron, I—”

  “Hey, Cerulli, are you coming or what?” There’s a guy standing in the shadow by the castle’s edge.

  “Uh, yeah. Just a sec.”

  “Cameron, who’s that?”

  “That’s Stan. You remember Stan the man with the really nice can?” He laughs.

  “What’s he doing here?”

  “He came in my car with the others.”

  “Others?”

  “Yeah. Some of the guys. I thought we could go to the all-night diner.”

  “Oh. Cool.”

  He takes my hands. “So what did you want to tell me?”

  “Uh, you know what? It can wait.”

  “All right, then let’s get us some fries. What do you say?”

  “Perfect.”

  *****

  “Let’s see, that’s three orders of fries, a pitcher of cola, one order of Buffalo wings, and a slice of peach cobbler,” the waitress says, reading her pad. We’re at the diner, and there’s a surprising number of people sitting at booths all around us. I guess there’s not much open at this time of night. The waitress asks, “Anything else?”

  “Got any rice pudding?” Stan asks.

  “Aw, seeing that stuff makes me want to hurl,” says Marcus, a guy whose neck is as wide as his head.

  “Make it a large rice pudding then,” Stan says. Marcus lets rip a burp and the guys around me all pound on the table and cheer.

  Looking disgusted, the waitress departs. I’m feeling a little disgusted myself. It’s like I’m sitting with a bunch of Neanderthals. There’s Marcus, the wide-necked belcher, Stan with his surfer-dude hair, James who hasn’t said much of anything (I think he’s stoned), and Chicken-bone Robbie, a tiny wisecracking guy. They’re all wrestling buddies of Cameron’s.

  At least I’m with Cameron. Even though Cameron isn’t paying total attention to me at the moment, but texting on his cell with some college friend of his. He’s trying to make plans to meet this friend later in the week. I slide closer to him and try not to yawn. He puts an arm over my shoulder and finally shuts his phone. He talks with the guys about his coach at the University of Maryland and about how tough he is on everybody.

  “That’s nothing,” Marcus says. “My coach is an absolute prick.” The guys talk about weight classes and punishing diets. I snuggle into Cameron and relax. Their voices turn to murmurs. That’s all I know until Cameron nudges me.

  “Want some food?”

  “Huh?” I blink stupidly at the table now filled with fattening stuff. Stan is already slurping at the rice pudding and Marcus is groaning. I say, “I think I’ll pass. What time is it?”

  Cameron checks his cell. “Almost two.”

  Now I’m completely awake. I’ve been gone from home for about an hour. What if somebody noticed? “We going soon?”

  “The food just got here,” Cameron says. “Is something wrong?”

  “Seems your friend isn’t enjoying our company much,” Chicken Bone Robbie says. Marcus belches. The guys cheer and pound on the table again. People at the other tables give us weary looks.

  “Hey,” Stan says, “doesn’t she remind you a little of—Ow!” He turns to Marcus. “Did you kick—”

  “I think,” Cameron says, “you’re all grossing her out.”

  “It’s not that,” I say. “You’re all very interesting.”

  “Especially me,” Stan says. “Stan the man with the really nice can.”

  “Uh, actually,” I say, “didn’t she call you Stan the Can?”

  There’s a roar of laughter and Chicken-bone Robbie tosses fries at Stan while Marcus high-fives me.

  “Hey,” Stan says, “you’re much funnier than—Ow!” He looks around the table. “Who’s kicking me?” Everyone shrugs.

  I smile at Cameron and he winks.

  “Sang? I thought that was you.” There standing in front of me is Michelle Baldarasi, decked out in combat boots and fatigues. I open my mouth, but before I can say anything, she shouts, “Hey Hari, look who the wrestlers dragged in.”

  *****

  “Aw, come on, Hari, those guys are harmless,” Michelle says, steering her car out of
the parking lot. “Unlike me.” She reaches over and gives him a squeeze.

  “Not now, Michelle. This is serious. Do you hear that Sang? Serious.”

  “Yeah, I hear you.” I’m sitting slumped in the back seat. “Everybody in that diner heard you.” Hari embarrassed the hell out of me shouting that all the guys had better back off. And that I was leaving immediately. Cameron tried to tell Hari to calm down, and offered to shake his hand, but Hari would have none of it. He actually said, “You keep those hands off my little sister.”

  “Well that’s tough,” Hari says now. “My own sister hanging out with those gorillas.”

  “You’re sexy when you’re overprotective,” Michelle says.

  “Excuse me? Overprotective? Don’t you remember those guys back in high school? They’d do anything to get into a girl’s pants. They’re users. Players. Lowlife scum.”

  “I think they’re cute,” Michelle says. “Especially that Cameron Cerulli. I always thought he was hot. Too bad he’s going out with your little sister.”

  “He is not… God, Sang, what the hell were you thinking? Mom and Dad are going to freak.”

  I freak. “Hari, you can’t tell them.”

  “Yeah, come on, Hari,” Michelle says. “No harm done.”

  “How do I know that? Who knows what the hell she’s been doing with those guys?”

  “God,” I say. “You are such a…”

  “What? I’m such a what?”

  “Hypocrite.”

  “Ho ho,” Michelle says. “She’s got you there, Mr. Hotstuff.” She tousles his hair and he jerks his head away from her.

  “This is different. She’s a girl.”

  “And what am I?”

  “She’s sixteen, Michelle.”

  “Hari, come on,” I say. “Give me a break. You can’t seriously be thinking of telling Mom and Dad. Nothing happened. I swear. And I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “It’s that Cameron dude. I told you he was bad news.”

  “He is not. And who made you the relationship expert?” I look out the window at the darkened houses along the road.