“Adam,” I say, “This is the long way to the nurse’s office. If we cut through the lunchroom, we can get there a lot faster.”
Adam turns us around. “Are you suggesting I’m not strong enough to carry you the extra distance?” Even as he asks the question, he’s heading into the lunchroom.
Like the teenager I am, but desperately try to suppress, I blush.
“I didn’t mean to imply—” Just then, my cell phone rings. Well, it doesn’t ring, it vibrates. I can feel the awkward shivering movement somewhere between my butt and Adam’s arm. I wish I’d left the phone in my locker instead of stuffing it in my back pocket. This is really embarrassing on so many levels.
Shifting slightly left, I feebly attempt to get to my right back pocket. The movement squashes me even more tightly against Adam and, horrified, I pull away.
My sudden pullback causes Adam to stumble. He lurches forward, still cradling me in his arms, attempting to regain his balance.
It’s a tense few seconds, but he manages to find his feet and settle me back in his arms.
The phone keeps buzzing. “I’ll just ignore it,” I tell him.
“Hang on.” Adam stops walking. In one fluid motion, he shifts me up and toward him and somehow manages to support me so I can reach into my pocket to get the phone. He’s even stronger than I imagined. Sigh.
I get the phone and we are on our way again. The ringing of the phone actually helped me to relax. Now I’ve something to think about other than the way Adam is holding me or which of my body parts are touching which parts of his.
I open the phone. It’s not a call after all. It’s a text message.
“After all that, I hope it’s important,” Adam comments as we hurry through the lunch room.
“Huh?” I’m still staring at the message on the small cell screen.
“An emergency?” Adam repeats.
“No.” I quickly shut the phone cover and close my fist around the phone. I wrap my arm around Adam’s neck, not so much to enjoy the few seconds I have left in his arms, but rather to keep from falling. At least that’s what I tell myself.
“Anyone important?” Adam is digging for info, but I can’t possibly explain to him what I read.
“Just my father,” I tell Adam, a bit too smoothly. “He wanted to make sure I was available for dinner.”
Adam nods. He must know I’m lying. Only the coolest dads know how to text message. But what else can I say? I can’t possibly tell him the truth.
The message is from Cherise:
Mars has entered Gemini.
Phase one is now complete.
Phase one?!!!!
Four
Pairing off seems to be the pursuit du jour, but you are not inclined in that direction.
Be your own person and enjoy!
www.astrology4stars.com
I’m at home with my foot propped up on a pillow. The phone is ringing and I have to stretch across my bed and roll on my side to answer it. Man, that hurt. I have seven stitches right above my ankle. I watched the ER doc sew it up. Working in the tuxedo shop has made me an expert on sewing stitches. Looking at the ones on my ankle, I would have made the sutures a bit tighter and finished differently, but all in all, I’d give the doc a high grade.
He sent me home with crutches. The doctor said that by tomorrow the swelling will start to go down, so I’ll only need them for a few days.
I grab the phone off the handset and resettle myself on the bed before answering. I figure it’s Cherise calling to tell me how her “prediction” is coming true. I’ll say, “Lucky guess.” She’ll say, “Astrology isn’t about luck. It’s about knowing.” We’ll go back and forth like that for a while until we agree to disagree and move on to a more important topic, like the way our English teacher spits when he speaks.
I don’t even bother to look at the caller ID. I push “talk” and say, “Hey Cherise.”
It’s not Cherise.
“Hello.” “Hello.” Two voices at once. I can immediately tell that Tanisha and Jennifer are sharing a cell phone. They must have their heads together and are both trying to listen and talk at the same time. “Sylvie?” That one is Jennifer. “How are you?” asks Tanisha.
Do I really have to answer that? I’m injured. It’s painful.
“Fine,” I lie. “Just fine.”
“Does it hurt?” Jennifer asks.
“A little,” I mumble through clenched teeth, wondering where my father put the prescription painkillers.
“Well, you’re missing all the fun here,” Tanisha says.
“Hmmm,” I reply, not committing to the conversation. I find the bottle and pop one in my mouth. I chase it with a sip of water.
“Everyone’s talking about how gallant Adam is. The way he carried you through the school.” Jennifer sighs heavily. “They’re calling him Prince Charming.” She finishes with another romantic sigh.
“We dubbed him PC,” Tanisha adds. “And your PC’s the most popular boy at school right now. Gavin Masterson says he’s a shoo-in for the swim team.”
There’s a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach, and not because of the painkiller I just swallowed. Gavin Masterson is captain of the swim team and I dislike him intensely. I’m still bitter about all those times that Gavin swiped Cherise’s lunch money when we were in fourth grade.
For all her peace-loving, save-the-world stuff, I know for a fact that the one person Cherise can’t stand is Gavin Masterson. She dodges him in the hallway, averting her gaze, but I see the fire underneath. It’s been eight years, and we both still think Gavin is pond scum. I should warn Adam to keep his distance.
“Does Adam even swim competitively?” I wonder aloud. That would explain his chest and arm muscles, not that I’m still thinking about them or anything like that.
“He’s on his way to try out for the team this afternoon,” Tanisha explains. “Word is that he swam at his last high school. He’s even trained with some college guys and their Olympic coach! Now he wants to swim for us.”
An image of Adam in a Speedo flashes through my brain. I bite my lip to dispel the vision and better concentrate on what Jennifer is saying. I swear I taste blood. “Just think about it,” she rambles on, “you could wear the Cinderella design and Adam could dress like PC. I’m going to e-mail you the name of a costume shop that rents prince costumes. You can forward the name to him. It’ll be terrific.”
“What?” I missed something.
“You’re going to go to the Spring Fling Prom with Adam, aren’t you?” Tanisha asks in all seriousness.
My head is spinning, and I can’t be sure if it’s the painkillers or the conversation. “I just met him. I don’t know him. He hasn’t asked. I don’t want to go to the Spring Fling—”
“We gotta run,” Jennifer says, totally ignoring me. I can hear the school bell in the background. “Can’t be late to class. Bye.”
“Feel better, Sylvie!” Tanisha shouts right before I hear the click of the cell phone being snapped shut.
The next thing I know, the doorbell’s ringing. I’m groggy from napping and don’t bother moving. My ankle’s throbbing, and I know my father’ll answer the door: He closed the shop early to stay home with me. A few minutes ago, he poked his head in to see how my ankle was doing and asked if I needed anything. I didn’t. He sat on the edge of my bed for a minute. He glanced at my ankle and after a brief bit of silence said, “Well, if you need anything I’ll be in the living room.” Then he left.
I wish I understood my father better. This isn’t the first time he’s sat on my bed as if he had something to say and then left without saying it. He did it the day my mother died and the day I graduated junior high. He did it the afternoon my SAT scores came and the morning his tuxedo shop won a citywide award for best service.
I figure it’s just his way. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing he’d actually talk to me instead of sitting there in silence. When I was little, I’d pepper him with questions, but after
a time, when he didn’t answer with more than one or two words, I stopped trying. On those rare occasions when he came to me, like he did today, I’d always wait to see if he was going to say anything, and when he didn’t, I’d simply let him go. After all these years of not speaking, we’ve come to a place where we live together but have completely separate lives.
“Sylvie,” my father calls down the hall as if he knows I’m thinking about him. “You have a visitor.”
I peek over at the clock on my night-stand. School’s been out for a while. I’m bummed I didn’t make it to the café today, especially since I told Tyler I was definitely going to be there. Assuming Cherise still went with her brother, they’d be done by now. I figure my visitor must be Cherise. Who else would it possibly be?
“Send her in,” I holler back, propping myself up in the bed.
“I’m not a her.” Adam walks into my room. “I’m a him.”
I’ve got to stop assuming it’s always Cherise. Suddenly, I have other visitors. I should be more prepared.
I quickly run a hand over my hair. I’m sure I look atrocious from lying in bed all afternoon. All these years, I’ve never put too much stock in what my hair or makeup look like. But right this second, I care. At the very least, I wish I had a little lip gloss. Or even some Chapstick. Damn.
“Don’t worry, Sylvie.” Adam walks over to the bed. “You look great to me.”
I wish he wouldn’t be so nice. Really. He’s making it hard for me to remember that I’m not interested in boys or dating.
“I saw Cherise.” Adam puts a stack of papers on the nightstand. “She went to all your teachers and got your homework assignments. I offered to play delivery boy.” He crosses over to my desk and pulls out the chair. Obviously, he’s decided not to sit on the bed. A good decision. I’ve been napping and have no idea what my breath smells like.
“Where is Cherise?” I ask. As long as he is keeping his distance, I feel free to talk. My breath will stay in my space. “I thought she might come by.”
“She’ll be by later,” Adam tells me. “She said she had a few things to do this afternoon.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Like what?” I wonder aloud.
“She said she had to check something. Phase two or part two. Something like that,” Adam says with a shrug and I shudder to think what she’s up to. “Cherise is cool. After I took you to the nurse,” Adam goes on, “I met her in the hall. She introduced herself to me and asked if I wanted to have lunch. While we were eating, she told me all about—”
“Lunch?” I cut in. I might have spoken a little suddenly, but the outside world is spinning at light speed and I’m trapped in my room with my ankle on a pillow. Cherise doesn’t eat with anyone but me. And her shadow, Tyler, of course.
“I like Cherise,” Adam admits freely. “We hung out a lot today.” I’m stunned. “In fact, we ate together with the whole swim team.” Suddenly, he punches the air, full of excitement. “Did you hear I tried out today? It went so well, they offered me a spot on the team right there in the locker room!”
“Congrats,” I say, but my heart isn’t in it. I should be oozing happiness and excitement for him, but I just can’t get over the fact that Cherise ate lunch with Adam and the swim team today. The swim team, for goodness’ sakes.
I have more than a million questions about their lunch conversation, starting with, “I didn’t know you swam?” continuing with, “Did Cherise really have lunch at the same table as Gavin Masterson?” and ending with, “Tyler always eats with Cherise and me. Was Tyler there, too?” (Answers: No, Gavin wasn’t at lunch today. And no, Tyler didn’t want to join them. He sat alone instead.)
My next question is on the tip of my tongue (“Did Cherise mention astrology?”), but the question never has a chance to be verbalized. I’m effectively silenced when Adam grabs his backpack and opens it up. “Let’s do our chemistry homework together,” he suggests.
Adam gets out his papers and heads toward the bed. I scoot up a little more on my pillows, not quite comfortable with the fact that Adam’s in my room. I mean I’ve never had a boy in my bedroom before, unless you count the one and only time Tyler came down with Cherise. We were about eleven years old and played a marathon game of Monopoly.
It’s really awkward to be confined to bed with some guy your classmates are calling Prince Charming hovering over you. I almost expect him to lean over and try to kiss me. That’s what happened in “Cinderella.” Or was it “Sleeping Beauty”? “Snow White”? Ugh. Adam has me all confused.
In fact, I so expect a “Prince Charming kiss,” that I swear my eyelids droop on their own, my lips begin to separate slightly, just like a movie starlet of black-and-white films. I can’t control my own physical impulses.
I wait expectantly as, holding his homework in his hand, Adam moves in closer. And closer.…
Five
Even with Virgo in the House of Love, you are not comfortable making the first step toward romance.
www.astrology4stars.com
Nothing happens.
I fully open my eyes to discover that Adam’s face is nowhere near mine. He stopped at the side of the bed, closer to my feet than face.
He wasn’t going to kiss me. I imagined the whole thing. Very unlike me. I must have taken too many painkillers. Shaking my head to clear it, I pick up the papers on my night-stand while Adam takes a seat on the bed.
I feel the mattress dip under him and when he shifts into a comfortable position, his butt is touching my thigh. He doesn’t move. Instead, he ensures that I won’t move either by carefully rearranging the pillow under my ankle. I can’t possibly inch away now and risk messing up the footrest he’s created. I try to relax my thigh, but it’s no use. It’s tensed up and hard as a brick. He probably just thinks I’m buff. Or at least, that my left leg is very buff.
I’m doing an imitation of my father. Staring down at my hands and not talking. Unlike me, who lets the silence burn, Adam lights a fire.
“Does your ankle hurt?” he asks, tracing the edge of the bandage with his finger. Not when you do that, I want to say. It feels great. Amazing, in fact.
“I needed seven stitches.” It’s a non-answer answer.
“Your dad told me when I came in,” he replies. I feel taken aback by the realization he’s not only having lunch with Cherise, but talking to my father as well. “I’m glad you went to the hospital,” Adam says. “Bernie said it might have been really bad if you ignored it.” Bernie? He’s calling my father Bernie?
“Thanks for carrying me to the nurse,” I say, changing the subject away from my father.
“You’re welcome.” Adam smiles. He has an amazing smile. “I can’t even begin to tell you how many girls are now pretending to twist their ankles as I walk down the hall.” He laughs. It’s warm and welcoming and makes me laugh, too. He blushes as he tells me about the crazy freshman girl who threw herself at him and begged him to carry her to the nurse.
“Rumors travel fast.” I shrug with a smile. “I hear they’re calling you Prince Charming.”
“I’ve been called worse.” He laughs again. Suddenly the room brightens. It’s no longer awkward and uncomfortable. I’ve found my speaking voice, and I ask him what other names he’s been called. He shares stories of his old school. Make that schools. Because his father is climbing a corporate ladder, his family moves around a lot. Their last stop was a suburb of San Francisco.
He’s glad to be in Cincinnati because he has cousins who live here. Adam also tells me about the swim team tryouts, sharing that he was such a huge bookworm growing up that his parents forced him to take a swim class to be “more well-rounded.” He liked it and it stuck. He swims as often as he can and being able to join a swim team makes changing schools all the time a little easier since he knows he can make friends in the group.
“Not every school has an academic decathlon team or an astronomy club,” he adds with a grin. “But even at high schools without pools, there’s usually a swim team in
the neighborhood.”
It’s at this point in the conversation that I tell him to be wary about Gavin. Adam thanks me for the warning and says he’ll keep his eyes open.
Adam asks questions about me and my family. I find myself opening up. Not entirely, but more than I ever have to a guy. I tell him the basic facts of my life. The date of my mom’s death. The name of my father’s shop. About the science scholarship and what I need to do to win it.
“I can help with the scholarship,” he tells me. “Since I got one to UCLA, I have some good ideas on how to make the board notice you.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Decisions are coming up soon and there’s nothing left to do but wait. And keep up my grades, of course. Thanks anyways.”
“I’ll do my part to make sure your chem grades are tops,” he tells me. “I learned a few things at my old school about how to make the experiments more efficient. Tell you what, when you’re back in class, I’ll show you a few new tricks.”
I’ve had my own chem lab space for so long, I’ve gotten used to doing things my way. It’ll be interesting to see what Adam can add. “Great,” I say, then take a quick glance at the clock. We’re both surprised to learn that nearly an hour’s passed. It’s time to get started on our homework.
Since I missed the last bit of today’s lab, he shows me his tabulations from today’s titration experiment.
Wow.
He did such a great job. His penmanship is neat and tight, I can read every little notation. And he took such careful notes, there’s nothing missing from his work. It’s a pleasure to study with Adam. Really. I can’t say that about anyone I’ve ever met before. Not even Cherise.
Time flies by, and it isn’t until I hear footsteps in the hall that I realize the doorbell has rung, again.
There’s only one person in the world who takes giant, clomping steps like that. She always has.
In the Stars Page 4