“Just Christmas break?” My voice sounded all weak and airy. Could he tell that I waited with bated breath to hear his answer? How ridiculous am I? I couldn’t believe how much my heart pounded as I anticipated his response. Why did I care so much? And yet I couldn’t help thinking: Please, don’t let it be permanent.
His head tilted my direction with a slight smile on his face. “Yeah, just Christmas. But next year is another story.”
“Why’s that?” My fishing for information expedition had to be totally obvious.
“He wants me to go to UCLA next year. We’ve been talking about it since I was a kid. It’s where my dad went, and he thinks that’s where I’ll 'reach my full potential.'”.
I could tell by the way he said the last couple words that he was probably quoting his father. It sure sounded like something a parental unit might say.
“He’s hoping I’ll make the baseball team and everything.”
“So, where do you want to go?” I asked, but I couldn’t stop there. “The Ohio College of Clowning Arts.” I covered my mouth. How could I be such an idiot? But that was me. Put me under a little pressure and who knows what will pop out.
Luke looked at me, and then burst out laughing. I joined him. We couldn’t stop.
I almost couldn’t breathe. “Stop laughing,” I got out through the giggles. I slapped his leg lightly, and he took my hand.
“You started it.”
“Not the laughing.”
He still held my hand, and the realization turned off the laughing gas for me.
“Thanks, Andrea. You really know how to make me laugh.”
Was Luke Ryan really holding my hand and talking about how I make him laugh? I’d never thought of my odd humor as an asset before, but I guess for Luke it was. Who knew?
His gaze was serious. Then he looked down to examine my hand as a bit of a wrinkle formed on his forehead. “I’ve really needed that lately. Things have been stressed at home.”
“Isn’t it always?” I tried to sound sympathetic, and like it was totally normal for him to be touching me.
A sudden wind whipped through the car, carrying pieces of grass and dirt from my yard and sending strands of my hair into my face. Before I could clear my eyes to see him again, Luke’s hand stretched out and removed the hair from my face. Yes, his hand was touching my cheek. Well, not really. He was just being helpful as he placed the renegade hair behind my ear. I couldn’t help but shiver.
Luke noticed, too, as he gazed into my eyes.
Wow, it was like that moment when two people connect for the very first time. I mean, Luke and I have had a couple nice moments together, but this one was different. His eyes did that wonderful sparkly thing, and my heart skipped a beat—a really long beat, this time—similar to when you’re on an awesome roller coaster.
Then my phone buzzed with the sound of a text message.
It startled us and the magic of the moment dispelled.
Luke curved back into his seat.
I tried to smile as I found my malevolent phone and glanced at it. “Amy.” I shrugged. “I guess I should let you go, anyway. I’m sure you’ll want to spend time with your dad before he leaves.”
“Yeah. Sure,” Luke answered, but he seemed preoccupied.
Could he be preoccupied because of me? I had to be on painkillers because that so couldn’t be the case.
I started to grab my backpack when Luke spoke my name. I couldn’t look, though, because he’d know exactly what I was thinking with my cheeks glowing. I’d need a cooling facial mask when I got in the house. No way could I face my mother before that.
“So,” he cleared his throat like he was nervous. What could he be nervous about? “I, uh, was wondering if you’d thought over my invitation.”
“Your invitation?” I began going through the front zipper pocket of my backpack. “Where are my keys?”
“You know, to homecoming. I’d really like us to go together.”
My heart rate fast-tracked to overdrive so quick I almost didn’t have the breath to answer. Why was he so set on us going to homecoming? He couldn’t really like me like that, could he? I mean, maybe. We had just had that moment.
I hopped out of the car with my bag in tow and shut the car door. “I don’t really do school functions.” I leaned over near the opened window. “Thanks for the ride home. I really appreciate it. See you tomorrow.”
And then I walked away. Yes, I strolled up my driveway and onto the front porch listening as Luke drove off. I blew out a breath when the coast became clear and collapsed onto the porch swing. I curved an arm over my forehead and lay all the way down. For some reason, it felt like I’d just avoided getting flattened by a speeding car.
But what was I avoiding? Luke Ryan? Let’s think this over for one minute. Luke—one of the cutest and most together boys in school, a senior, shares my affinity for superheroes, and he might actually like me. Maybe. What in the world had I done? I felt terrible. Then I realized I hadn’t even asked him where he was going to church. Maybe I should have invited him to Bible study tonight? I’d managed to ask Stephanie to Bible study, and yet I’d neglected to invite Luke. Where had my mind gone?
My phone buzzed again. I pulled it out and looked at it. Three text messages from Amy. Better call her now before she blew a blood vessel. I found her name in my cell phone favorites and pushed the button. The phone rang only once before Amy picked up.
“Tell me everything,” was her greeting. No ‘Hello, how ya doing.’ Nope. Just straight to the point. Well, that was Amy for you. Still, she really needed to learn some phone etiquette.
“Hello to you, too,” I said this with a slight sarcastic twang to my tone.
“Hi. Now come on, what happened?”
“Luke drove me home. End of story.”
She made a scoffing noise into the phone. “Ple-e-ase. You aren’t getting off that easy.”
Usually I confided pretty much everything to Amy, but for some reason I couldn’t tell her about the moment Luke and I had just had. It had happened, right? That special connection. No, it couldn’t be. See, I couldn’t tell her if I wasn’t even sure of it myself. And the idea of letting her in on the part about me refusing his invite again would just result in an unending lecture. I mean, I already had a mother for that.
“OK, besides him driving me home, we ran into Stephanie and Josh.”
“Oh, yeah.” Her voice filled with distain. She didn’t care for Josh either, because when he started calling me “Beanpole,” he nicknamed her “Shrimp.” Although, come to think of it, he never called her that anymore. I guess it’s just me that he continues to make fun of. What else is new?
“Yeah, and he wanted to race Luke.”
“He didn’t. What an idiot.”
“Just what I said. I totally thought Luke planned to race him, but he didn’t. Josh took off with Steph and almost caused an accident in front of Meyer’s Pharmacy.”
“Oh, my gosh. I can’t believe what an idiot he is.”
“I know. Anyway, that’s it. Can you just let this Luke stuff die, now?”
“All right, if you answer one question.”
“O-K.” My palms started sweating again. What was the deal? Not again.
“Did he happen to mention taking you to homecoming again?”
Oh great—a direct question. Amy knows I have a hard time lying to direct questions. Deflecting, yes. Conveniently leaving things out, of course. But out-and-out lying? No.
“Um, well, actually what happened was…”
“He did. He asked you again. I’m coming over. We have to make plans for the big day.”
In my relationship with Amy, I normally let her take the lead. It’s the natural order of things. She is the smart, outgoing one while I held the title as the awkward, backward-behaving one. But I’d made a lot of headway today in asserting myself with Stephanie. It was time to grow a backbone. “Amy, no.” That so wasn’t convincing.
“After dinner, I’ll be th
ere. I have some magazines I want you to see and…”
“AMY!” I shouted into the phone. “I said no. That’s it. Finito. The End. We are no longer discussing this. It is off the table.” Finally, I’d exerted my will. My hand holding the phone shook as I waited for her reaction.
“I take it this means you turned him down again?” Her voice was low and quiet, yet refreshingly lacking in reprimand.
Still, did she not hear me say that this conversation was over? I mean, I had attempted to be thorough.
“You know you’re insane, Andrea. What are you avoiding?”
“Be serious, Amy. This so isn’t happening. OK, he asked me to homecoming…”
“Twice.”
“Twice,” I conceded. “But I just don’t see this—Luke and me—happening. I don’t think this is the right time for me.”
“Look at the facts. Luke and you connected the first day he walked onto campus. You make him laugh. You help him with Geometry even though you’re terrible at it. He asked you not once, but twice to homecoming, and he sent you flowers with a cute note. Can I please have my best friend back? The one who made sense.”
“Goodbye, Amy.” I was so finished talking about this. Darn her logical astuteness. I didn’t want to hear it. Besides, she didn’t know the secret that my time at Aubrey might be coming to an end. “My mom is watching me out the front window and probably wondering why I’m standing on the porch talking to you on the phone.”
“Fine. I’ll call you later. Maybe we can get A-Company Girls together tonight after Bible study. We still haven’t discussed that novel.”
“Maybe.”
“Bye.”
I sighed aloud and put my phone away. Now to face my mother.
9
After shutting the front door, I glanced around for my mom. Where had she gone off to? Funny, I thought she would be questioning me with her probing expression about what I’d been doing and “who was that who brought you home?” Curiously, she was totally absent. Maybe she hadn’t seen me with Luke, which was probably for the best. I wasn’t quite ready to explain that one. Well, it hadn’t even turned three o’clock yet, so Mom wasn’t working on dinner. Hmm. Where was she?
I mounted the stairs to my room after forcing my backpack over my shoulder. Music streamed from the spare room aka: Mom’s sewing room/study. Out from the crack of the doorway flowed the sounds of the sewing machine mixed with my mother’s voice singing along to the 1980’s tunes emanating from her radio. She sounded in good spirits and not like she was about to read me the riot act. Curiouser and curiouser.
In my room, I tossed my bag onto the bed and joined it there on top of the fluffiness of my comforter. I folded my arms under my head and closed my eyes. Even with the heap of homework waiting to be finished, all I could focus on was Luke.
I’d made the right decision with him, hadn’t I? And I’d been thinking of him, too. I mean, I hadn’t totally blown him off or anything. Everything had been left very friendly.
I covered my face with my hands and forced out a breath. Who was I kidding? He probably thought I was a completely rude and ungrateful person and after he’d been so nice to me. But I had to look at this situation clearly. Grabbing a pad and paper from my desk, I decided to attack this problem the way Amy would with one of her lists. I began to write:
Why get wrapped up in a guy who may:
A.) Lose interest in me next week which is so very possible, (I mean look at me.)
Or
B.) Move away, if not now, then soon.
And then
It will make my parents happy if I steer clear of this entanglement.
Of course, all of this could be a moot point anyway, as I very well might be attending the High School of the Performing Arts of Chapel Hill in less than two weeks. If I could actually get in. It was only responsible of me to nip this thing in the bud before I got too attached because it would be so easy to get attached to Luke.
Whoa! Hold on! Time to rein in this line of thinking. I am not looking for a man. Like Angie, I do not necessitate a male in my life to feel complete. I have Jesus for that. Having said that, though, it sure would be great to go along in this wide, inhospitable world with a friendly face at my side. No! Turning him down was the best course.
Besides, my parents would blow a gasket if they knew how infatuated I’d become over him. I could just hear my dad. “Focus, Andrea. The recital is in only three days.”
Oh, my gosh! Only three more days!
I sat up and tossed my pencil and paper on the desk. Making a list had not been helpful. Then I scrunched my body close to the pillows on the bed. I only had three more days until that darn recital. It was bad enough when I knew some vague representatives “could” show up at the recital. But to know that they’re from the performing arts school and my future may very well hang in the balance…well, it would just be a relief when it was finally over and my the decision settled.
After unzipping my bag, I pulled out my Geometry homework and started in on the bane of my existence. Though I couldn’t totally hate it. It had, in a sense, been the mechanism which had ultimately brought Luke and me together. Oh, yeah, we aren’t actually together. Maybe I could hate that dreaded subject with all the shapes, after all.
An hour later, my phone rang. It was Amy. What did she want now? To force me to sign over my soul? She’d really stressed me out this week. What was with her? I could usually count on her to have my back, but at the moment, I wouldn’t trust her with a sandwich I didn’t like. “Hey Am. What’s going on now?”
“Don’t sound so happy to hear from me.”
Lying back into my pillows, I bent an arm under my head for support. “I’m always glad when you call. So, what’s going on?”
“With Alisha and Angie coming over after Bible study, how about a chick-flick night instead of book club? I think we need a break from seriousness tonight.”
She must have read my mind. “If that means no boys then I am so there. The next time I see a testosterone-infused being, I might scream.”
“This Luke thing has sure thrown you for a loop. You sound like Angie.”
“I do. You’re right. This is why you have to lay off. If Luke and I are meant to be, then it will happen.” And it was never going to happen, I reminded myself, so that I, too, would remain in the real world.
“Fine. I resign as your matchmaker.”
“Thanks. What time should I be over?”
“Around eight.”
“All right, see you later.”
Like clockwork, my mother knocked on the door at 5:00 PM. “Dinner,” is all she said.
“Be right down.”
I gathered all my books and stacked them on my computer desk before heading downstairs to a meal with the ‘rents.
The smell of garlic wafted along the staircase, making my stomach growl. Well, I really hadn’t eaten much today with my veggie burger lunch soaked in soda before the rally.
Crossing through the living room, I could hear Mom and Dad involved in some discussion about current events. Taxes, I think. They were always stressing about taxes. The way they told it, we were being taxed to death. At this rate, why should I even get a job when I finished college? Heck, why even go to college at all?
Mom set a plateful of chicken parmigiana at my place. With her homemade tomato sauce and lots of parmigiana reggiano cheese all over it, my mouth literally watered. “Smells really good, Mom.” I took a seat and lifted my fork. I couldn’t wait to eat.
Dad folded his hands ready for prayer. “It really does smell great, Trish.” He gave Mom a smile. Dad was the only one who called Mom Trish. Even Grandma, my mom’s mother, said her name like a steel bar had attached itself to her spine. “PATRICIA.”
Dad prayed thanks for our food and afterward his green-brown eyes settled on me. “How’s it going there, Andi?” He took a bite of chicken.
“Fine.” I stuffed a piece of scrumptious yumminess into my mouth and closed my eyes as the sweet
sauce and a plethora of delicious tastes passed over my tongue, and then down my throat. Mom may get on my nerves at times, but no one could cook better. I dare anyone to try.
“Geometry still giving you trouble?” Dad asked this before taking a drink from his glass.
“No, she’s been doing some extra studying at school,” answered Mom for me. “Haven’t you, Andrea?” She smiled like we shared a secret, and then popped a piece of garlic bread into her mouth.
I guess we did share a secret since that little fiasco yesterday when I mentioned Luke’s name. It only took a modest amount of intelligence to put two and two together and know that my study partner had been one and the same. Mom was smart and used to putting things together. And not just delicious meals, but also court cases and evidence, too.
Dad raised his dark eyebrows, showing his approval. “That’s great. Maybe you’ll even get that grade up to an A by the end of the quarter.” Now he’d taken up residence in a fantasy world. That must be where I get it. Except Dad was usually so down to earth and practical. It helped in his line of business, I’m sure.
“Well, don’t get your hopes up.” This I said with a smile, letting Dad know I was making a joke, yet gently reminding him that I am apt to use the right side of my brain and usually suffer through subjects strongly suited for left-sided thinkers like himself.
Dinner progressed like normal until Dad brought up the subject I was sick and tired of hearing about. I’d just finished the last of my dinner, and was looking forward to the cream cheese frosted brownie bites that Mom had just brought out from the kitchen.
“How’s the practicing going?” asked Dad. “Only three days before the recital.”
I sighed loudly. “I can’t wait.” Yeah, it had sounded sarcastic and Dad hated sarcasm…well, if he feels it has been used at his expense.
He set his fork down and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Andrea, I hear you’ve been a little tense over the recital.”
I glanced at Mom. She had a straight smile on her face and no real emotion in her eyes. It was the expression I imagine she would have used when litigating before a judge. However, at the moment, I would have preferred some compassion. I wonder how much she’d told Dad.
Andrea and the 5-Day Challenge Page 8