Toby shrugged. “All right. Enjoying the game?”
She shrugged back. “Yeah, I guess. Baseball’s never been my favorite game. But Emma and Danny wanted to come. I thought you would be playing?”
“I had to do chores.”
“No, really?”
Toby nodded.
“All day?”
Another nod.
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, that’s what Frankie said.”
There was silence after that, as they exchanged nervous smiles.
Come on, say something! Don’t let the conversation die so soon. You were getting somewhere! Don’t blow it!
“So... where are Emma and Danielle?”
“Gone to the bathroom.”
“Oh.”
Out on the field, Warrick was batting, while a sophomore (soon to be junior in a few months) at Holt High by the name of James Ogilvy was pitching.
“Look, about the other day,” Toby said. “I’m sorry about knocking into you. I hope you didn’t have a bad bump.”
“Well, my hats look lopsided now when I wear them, but apart from that, I’m okay.” Gloria chuckled, Toby followed, and then they both laughed good and hard.
Afterwards, the ice having been broken, Gloria said, “Mind if I come up and sit with you? Who knows how long Emma and Danny will be, and baseball’s kinda boring watching it by yourself.”
Toby clenched his teeth, for fear that if he opened his mouth, he would expel a big, fat, embarrassing “Yippppeee!!” So he nodded, and watched as Gloria got to her feet and, with a tiny handbag laced over one shoulder, stepped over the bench she had been sitting on. When she was on Toby’s level, she turned and sat beside him, smiling shyly.
Toby took her in, every line and contour of her face, noticed the small sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose; breathed in her smell—vanilla—all in the space of a few seconds, before averting his gaze to the baseball game.
“So,” Gloria said, her breath smelling of root beer. “What chores did you have to do? Not vacuuming or washing the dishes I hope. They’re the worst. I hate doing those.”
“Nah,” Toby said, turning back to Gloria. “I had to mow the lawns, clean the gutters and tidy my room.”
“What did you do to get stuck with those?”
“You really want to know?”
“Sure,” she answered. She smiled. Her teeth were white and straight, her lips cherry red.
Toby felt the beginnings of an erection, but using every ounce of his willpower, he managed to subvert the potentially mortifying incident. “Well, Frankie and Warrick Coleman came over Saturday night. We camped out in my backyard. Warrick brought over some whiskey, and well, we all got drunk. My dad found out, and as punishment, he made me do those chores.”
“Bummer. So how’d he find out?”
“I think he sorta figured it out while I was busy puking my guts out in the rose bushes.”
Gloria laughed. “You were that drunk?”
Toby nodded. “But never again.”
“That’s what they all say,” Gloria said. “Deb’s always coming home drunk. And every morning she says never again. Then a few nights later, she comes home drunk again.” Gloria shook her head.
All around them the crowd cheered and bellowed, but Toby barely noticed; he didn’t even bother looking to the field to see what was happening. Gloria looked, briefly, but Toby could tell she wasn’t interested.
“Look, Toby, I have something I want to say to you.” Gloria turned to Toby. She looked nervous.
Toby’s already sweaty palms grew even sweatier.
Oh no, what’s she going to say? Is she going to tell me she knows what happened when I fell on top of her? Or that, sorry, but she finds me boring and she has to go? That my breath stinks?!
Toby tried smiling, but his lips quivered, so he spoke instead. “Um, yeah?”
Gloria sighed. “It’s a little embarrassing,” she said.
He just knew it was about him touching her breast—he wanted to run away and hide.
He was close to interrupting her and telling her it was all an accident, he didn’t mean for it to happen, that he got no enjoyment out of it (not so, but he couldn’t tell her the truth), and that he didn’t even realize what he was touching until...
“I wasn’t going to the store on Friday to buy some milk. I was coming to see you.”
Toby frowned. “You were?”
Gloria nodded. “I felt bad about, you know, about laughing at you that morning. I wanted to apologize, but I chickened out. I was heading back home when we ran into each other.”
Toby didn’t know whether to be happy or embarrassed. “Oh,” he said. “Okay. Thanks?”
Gloria shook her head. “I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned it. You’re embarrassed now.”
“No, I’m not. I’m just...”
“Your face is red.”
“It is?”
She nodded.
“Oh. Well, yeah, I guess I’m a little embarrassed. It was a stupid thing to say. Childish. I don’t know why I said it. It just came out.”
“We all say silly things sometimes. I shouldn’t have laughed. None of us should have. But I don’t think Emma and Danny are as sorry. They still think it’s funny.”
Toby rolled his eyes. “Well, apology accepted.”
“Thanks,” Gloria said. “I can relax now.”
After that, they sat and watched the rest of the game, chatting about what they had planned for the summer, occasionally commenting on the game—both were rooting for the blue team—so it was nice to cheer together and boo as one.
Just before the game ended, Emma and Danielle came back, and Toby noticed their expression when they first saw Toby and Gloria sitting together—one of disgust and surprise, respectively. But they pretended not to be, as they said, looking up from the row below, “Hey Toby,” in almost perfect unison.
Toby nodded.
“Where were you guys?” Gloria said. “You were gone for like fifteen minutes.”
Thank God, Toby thought.
“We got chatting to some guys,” Emma said. She paused, flicked her eyes at Toby before adding, “Some high school guys. Well, they’ll be going to college next year.”
“Oh, really,” Gloria said, sounding none too impressed—which pleased Toby immensely.
“Yeah, anyway, a bunch of us are going to Patterson’s for some burgers and shakes,” Danielle said. “Chip’s giving us a lift there, so come on, he’s waiting.”
Gloria frowned. “Chip Donovan?”
“Yeah, so?” Emma said. “Chip’s cool. He’s gorgeous, too.”
“Gorgeous? Don’t think Drew would be too happy hearing you say that.”
“He’s away for most of the summer, won’t be back until just before the start of school. I’m allowed to have some fun. After all, he’s only my boyfriend, it’s not like we’re married.”
Gloria sighed. “Okay, whatever.” She turned to Toby. “Say, you wanna come?”
Toby raised his eyebrows. “Me?”
“Yeah, you and Frankie. Are you hungry?”
Toby hadn’t given the matter much thought—he had been too preoccupied with Gloria. But now he thought about it, his stomach did feel empty. “Sure, that’d be great.”
“Well he can make his own way there,” Emma said, sounding bored. “There’s not enough room in Chip’s car.”
“Oh,” Gloria said.
“That’s okay,” Toby said. “We’ll just meet you there.”
“No, you guys go on ahead,” Gloria said. “I’ll go with Toby.”
Toby looked down at Emma and Danielle—they looked as shocked by Gloria’s decision as Toby was.
“Are you sure?” Danielle said.
“Yeah,” Gloria said. “What’s the big deal?”
“Whatever,” Emma said with a sigh. “Come on Danny, let’s go.”
“See you there,” Danielle said and as she and Emma left, she gave Gloria a I hope
you know what you’re doing look, which didn’t go unnoticed by Toby.
“You could’ve gone with them,” Toby said once the girls were gone. “I’ll just go with Frankie.”
“It’s okay, really. I hate Chip Donovan. He’s so sleazy. I’d rather go with you. And Frankie,” she added as an afterthought.
“Okay.”
The game ended—the red team won by one run—and so Toby and Gloria made their way down to the field, where they met up with Frankie.
Frankie, his clothes dirt and grass-stained, took one look at Toby’s companion, and his mouth literally dropped open. Toby itched to tell him to shut it, that he looked like one of those amusement park clowns.
“I’m sorry you guys lost,” Gloria said. “It was a close game, though.”
Frankie looked to Toby, then back at Gloria. “Ah, yeah, thanks,” he said.
“A bunch of people are going over to Patterson’s for something to eat,” Toby said.
“Yeah, I know,” Frankie said. “I heard Leah talking about it with some of the others.”
“You want to go? Me and Gloria are heading over there now.”
Frankie nodded. “Sure, sounds good. I’m starved. I could really go for a burger, some fries, some onion rings, a chocolate shake and a sundae.”
“I feel sick just hearing you say that,” Gloria said.
“Yeah, and I bet ya he won’t even share any of his fries.”
Frankie made a face at Toby, then said, “Hey, I’ll see if Leah can give us a lift.”
“I don’t mind walking,” Gloria said.
“It’s okay, Leah’s heading over there anyway. Besides, I’m beat. I don’t think I could walk all the way into town on an empty stomach.”
Frankie left to find his sister.
“Boy loves his food,” Toby said with a shrug.
Gloria smiled. “So I noticed.”
Toby checked his watch; it was just after five o’clock. His mom should just be getting home from work.
“I wonder if Leah would be able to swing by my place,” Toby thought out loud. “I should tell my mom I’m not going to be home for dinner.” He added, “She worries.”
“Don’t you have a cell?”
Toby shook his head. “My parents don’t want me to have one until I’m sixteen. They say until then, I shouldn’t need one. I know, stupid, huh? I mean, every kid I know has one. Except for Frankie.”
Toby immediately regretted adding that last part. It had nothing to do with responsibility that prevented Frankie from owning a cell phone—Suzie simply couldn’t afford to give Frankie one. Leah had a cell, but she paid for it herself.
“You can use mine to call your folks if you want.”
“You sure?”
Gloria dipped into her purse and pulled out a pink cell phone. She flipped it open and handed it to Toby.
“Thanks.” He dialed home. As he put the phone to his ear, he thought of all the times the cell had been against Gloria’s own ear, all the times her breath had blown against the end of the cell as she talked, perhaps her mouth occasionally touching it.
Toby swallowed, had the urge to lick the end of the phone, but thought better of it.
After speaking to his mom, he handed the phone back.
“Everything okay?”
Toby nodded. “She said to have fun and not to eat too much.”
“You should pass that advice onto Frankie.”
“Yeah.”
Soon Frankie came jogging back. “It’s cool,” he puffed. “Leah will drive us. But we have to hurry. She wants to go home and get cleaned up first.” Frankie rolled his eyes. “Chicks.” And then, as if suddenly remembering it wasn’t just Toby standing there, Frankie said, “Oh, sorry.”
“Hey, I’m a chick, I know that,” Gloria said. “No need to be sorry.”
Toby laughed; Frankie simply looked embarrassed.
“Hey, what about my bike?” Toby said as the three of them left the field and headed towards the car park.
“Just leave it here, it’ll be all right,” Frankie said. “We’ll come back for it later.”
“But I didn’t bring the lock with me.”
“Relax, nothing’s going to happen to it. Who would want to steal your bike anyway?”
Toby looked over at his beloved BMX, leaning against the fence in the distance, now very much alone. He hated leaving it, but as his mom had so often pointed out, it was a safe, virtually crime-free town.
“Okay,” Toby said.
As they neared Leah’s car, Toby looked at Frankie. Frankie glanced at Toby, and mouthed, I can’t believe this is happening, and Toby shrugged, mouthed, Me either, and they both grinned stupidly, but stopped before Gloria caught them.
Patterson’s Diner was located on Main Street, a few stores up from the corner of Main and Longview Road. It was run by a stocky fellow by the name of Luke Patterson, a gruff, straight-talking man of about fifty. Patterson’s had been an institution in Belford for twenty-five years. It had the best burgers in town, and the shakes were all homemade, using only the freshest of ingredients—at least, that’s what the sign above the counter claimed.
It was a simple, bare-bones kind of eatery. No fifties nostalgia theme, no kitsch adorning the walls. Mr. Patterson scoffed at such things. There was just a whole lot of red vinyl booths circling the perimeter of the inside of the diner, a lot of free-standing tables and chairs in the middle, ten stools at the counter, and half a dozen tables and chairs outside.
The mornings were always packed with the breakfast-crowd and kids wanting an early morning hit of milk and sugar before school; the nights were usually as crowded as the mornings. On this particular Monday evening, the place was brimming with the laughter and screams of delight from a roomful of hormonally charged teenagers, full mostly of the day’s baseball game’s players and spectators.
Toby, Frankie and Gloria arrived at Patterson’s at around six, managed to grab a table inside, and for almost half an hour had sat and shared a basket of chili fries and onion rings, washing the grease down with vanilla malt, chocolate and strawberry shakes, respectively. The conversation had been comfortable, if at times a little strained, but nice all the same. At six-thirty Danielle and Emma came up to their table and pulled Gloria away—Gloria rolling her eyes at Toby and Frankie, saying, “Sorry guys, won’t be long.” That had been almost two hours ago.
Not that Gloria was being intentionally rude—Toby and Frankie both understood that it was nothing more than a popular girl spending time with other popular people, including her two best friends. They were grateful for the time they spent with Gloria, and in truth, Toby was amazed she lasted as long as she did—people kept on coming up to Gloria, guys as well as girls, and asking her to come and sit with them, or telling her that so-and-so wants to talk to you.
Such was the life of a pretty, popular teenage girl, and Toby was more than happy to sit back, relax with Frankie, and take it all in.
Because this was a new world for them. Sure they often hung out at Patterson’s, sometimes meeting up with Paul Rodriguez, very occasionally Warrick Coleman tagging along, but they had never been invited to hang out with the cool crowd from middle school, let alone the cool older kids from high school—it was all a little overwhelming for them.
Which was why it didn’t upset Toby when Gloria was whisked away—it gave Toby and Frankie time to breathe, to not have to worry about keeping up the conversation, just enjoy their burgers and second round of shakes (Toby opted for another vanilla malt, Frankie a strawberry), and goof around, like old times.
At around nine o’clock Dwayne Marcos came in.
Toby and Frankie had just polished off two bowls of coffee flavored ice cream and were arguing about who would win in a fight—Arnold Schwarzenegger or Sylvester Stallone (Toby reckoned Stallone, said he knew how to fight and was a real bad-ass, Frankie reckoned Schwarzenegger, giving the obvious reasons that he was simply bigger and had more muscles)—when the older teenager burst into the di
ner. A hush fell over the diner, all eyes turning to Dwayne.
Toby could tell right away Dwayne was drunk, it didn’t take a genius to figure that out, what with the way he was staggering and the glazed look in his eyes. Toby shrank down in his seat.
Turning back around, Frankie also sank down in his chair. “He doesn’t look happy.”
Toby nodded.
Mr. Patterson took one look at Dwayne staggering over to the booth housing Debbie, Leah and a few other junior and senior high school kids, and he stormed out from behind the counter. “Get out, Dwayne,” Mr. Patterson growled. “I’ll have no intoxicated people in my diner.”
“I just want to speak to Debbie,” Dwayne said, voice slurry.
Toby glanced over at Debbie. She looked annoyed and when Dwayne said, “Come on, honey. I’m sorry, okay?” She turned her head and faced the wall.
“Trouble in paradise,” Frankie muttered.
“Out, Dwayne!” Mr. Patterson ordered. His voice was firm and even. Mr. Patterson may have been pushing fifty, but he was still as fit and strong as anyone Toby knew. “You’re lucky I don’t call the cops and report an intoxicated minor. So just leave.”
“Fuck you,” Dwayne said. And then to Debbie, “Come on babe, just give me one more...hey!”
Mr. Patterson had grabbed Dwayne by one arm and was pulling him towards the door.
“I warned you, Dwayne,” Mr. Patterson said.
Only Luke Patterson would have the balls—and the strength—to throw Dwayne Marcos out.
“Abuse!” Dwayne cried. “I’m gonna report you to the cops!”
Mr. Patterson pushed Dwayne out the front door; Dwayne stumbled, almost toppled over onto the sidewalk, but somehow managed to keep himself upright. “I’ll bust your head in with my baseball bat, then I’ll call the cops if you ever come back in here drunk again.”
That seemed to shut Dwayne up—at least for a few moments.
As Dwayne staggered to his car, parked out the front, he cried: “Debbie, I love you, you’ll see, I’ll get you back,” and then he hopped into his Chevy, the engine grumbled to life, and then Bruce sped off.
“Wow,” Frankie said.
The Awakening Page 16