by Reece Evhans
Ouch. She was right.
She was not finished, apparently. "The best way to get her to open up to you is to become part of her crowd. You need to go undercover into the In Crowd. You need to infiltrate their ranks. You need..."
"You need to stop watching Nikita on Netflix. Seriously, Tara? I can't be a cheerleader. I'll never make it on the squad. Why would they choose me?"
She went in for the kill. "Well then, there's no reason not to try out. Nothing to lose. Prove me wrong."
I knew I shouldn't fall for it, but, heck, I'd been falling for it for years. It's my weakness. I just can't resist when Tara issues what is basically a double-dog dare. Crap. "Fine," I snatched the flyer out of her hand. "When are the stupid tryouts? I will go and try out and they will laugh me out of the gym. Will that make you happy?"
"Yes," she said smugly. The bell rang. "Remember, meet me after school. After your makeover, we can go to Starbucks and make our plan of attack."
I made my way through the hallways after school to meet up with Tara, thinking about how awful it had been to sit through English knowing Jack was behind me, but never saying a word to me. All I got was a curt "see ya" as he skirted around me to leave the classroom at the last bell.
Tara was waiting for me by her car, a Jeep Cherokee that had been her mother's before she traded up for an Infiniti. Not that I'm jealous or anything. I have a driver's license and I am perfectly capable of driving. It's just that the actual act of driving is truly frightening to me. I was in a fairly minor fender bender just after I got my license this summer. And, yeah, it kind of freaked me out. I may have had a teensy weensy panic attack and refused ever to drive again. So this is why I am a gold card member of the Albuquerque Metro bus pass of the month club.
"So, after you dress me up, let's go to the Starbucks in Barnes and Noble. I can drown my sorrows and get a new book at the same time," I suggested as I got into the Jeep.
"No," she replied a bit too quickly. "They don't take coupons. We'll go to a different one, ok?"
It is proof of my extreme level of distraction that I wasn't much more suspicious. After we stopped by Victoria's Secret so Tara could get her free panty (of course she was on their mailing list and of course she picked a lacy thong), she dragged me into Hollister. "This would be so cute on you, Ally. Try it on." Before I knew what was happening, she was shoving me into a dressing room with several outfits. I don't know how we've managed to stay best friends for so long when she loves this kind of stuff and I usually shop on Amazon.com. She was a woman on a mission, and in very short order had me dressed in a new outfit, which I had to admit was cute and made me feel attractive. She had picked out a short plaid skirt with black leggings and a teal sweater that she said looked really good with my hair color and showed that I actually had boobs. She even found black flats. I told her that I had some at home and didn't need the shoes. That's when she broke the news that I was wearing this outfit home and couldn't possibly do so in my tennis shoes. She had the clerk cut off the tags and bag my jeans and hoodie and then she bullied me into wearing the new outfit home. She then whisked me off to Sephora where it turns out she had made an appointment for me to get a mini-makeover. Again, I know I should have been more suspicious, but she didn't give me much time to process what was going on. She just said that it was a great chance to try out my new look before debuting it at school. By the time we had finished and she let me finally look in a full-length mirror, it was pushing 4:30. I was shocked by my appearance. She was behind me, taking out my ponytail and smoothing out my hair with her brush. She hugged me from behind.
"You're gorgeous, Ally. You need to permanently give up your middle school jeans and t-shirt look and let me start picking out your clothes. This is so fun! I just made you look at least four years older. Jack will not be able to resist you! Wait 'til he sees this!"
"Let's go. I'm dying of thirst. And I need a marshmallow treat in the worst way," I whined. I was secretly pleased with what she had done. I did look older, and the makeup was subtle enough that I didn't freak out. The artist at Sephora had given me what she called 'smoky eyes' and it looked good without being too much.
I was surprised and somewhat annoyed when we didn't head to the Starbucks right across from the mall. There truly is one on every corner.
"I want to go to the one on Lomas," Tara said in answer to my 'hey you just drove by Starbucks' comment. "I saw a really cute guy there last week. I want to see if he's there again."
Ok. Now I was finally suspicious. When we reached Lomas and I could see the Starbucks about half a block away, she pulled into the parking lot of an auto body shop and put the Jeep into park, engine still idling.
"Ally, you know I love you. This is for your own good. This is where Jack works. Now get the hell out of this car and go in there and talk to him." She hit the unlock mechanism and looked at me expectantly.
In shock, I tried to sputter my refusal. "You set me up!"
"Of course I did! Just do it. Meet me at the Starbucks when you're done."
I got out and she drove away. I guess I could have sat there in the passenger seat refusing to budge, but I wouldn't put it past her to walk around and pry me out of the Jeep in a very undignified manner. I squared my shoulders and turned around to face the auto body shop. Jimenez Auto Body. I had to hand it to her for her research skills. She had found out when and where Jack worked, which was more than I had done. I had absolutely no doubt that he was currently inside. Tara would have made sure.
Well, let's get this over with. At least you'll know.
****
I mentally pulled up my big girl panties and walked inside the auto body shop. There was a small reception area, with a young, pretty dark-haired woman at the desk and a small seating area.
"Can I help you?" asked the woman as I entered.
"Um, yeah," I practically whispered as I approached her desk. "I, uh, I was wondering if I could talk to Jack. Um, Jack Ruiz, for just a minute. If he's here. And not busy."
"Jack, huh?" she said. "Let me see if he's available," she picked up the phone to apparently page him. I could swear she was trying to keep a smirk of her face. "Hey, Manny, can you ask Jack to come up to reception for a minute? He has a visitor. Thanks." She hung up the phone. "Have a seat," she said, not unkindly. "He'll be right here."
Oh, god, oh god, what have I done? What on earth am I going to say to him? I worried on like this for several minutes.
And then he was coming through the back door, wiping his hands on a towel. He was wearing a uniform of sorts: dark blue work pants and a matching shirt that had "Jack" embroidered on the left breast pocket. It was odd seeing him in a context other than school. He looked completely wonderful. And very grown-up. Crap. "Hey, Shelly. Manny says I got a visitor? Who is..." he didn't need to finish as Shelly just pointed to where I was nervously sitting on my hands.
"Hi, Jack," I stood up and nervously wiped my hands on my skirt. I just stood there, awkwardly, wondering what on earth I could possibly say to him.
"Ally!" His eyes widened in shock. "What are you doing here?"
Well, what did I expect? "I, uh, I was wondering if you had a few minutes. I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something. You know, about our English project," I said for Shelly's benefit, realizing that accosting him at work might not be such a brilliant idea. I didn't want to get him in trouble or anything.
"Huh?" He just stared at me and didn't seem to be picking up on my oh-so-subtle subterfuge.
I stared back at him hopefully. “You know, the paper?”
"Um, yeah, sure. Hey, Shelly, tell Manny that I'm taking a break. I'll be back in a few." He stuffed the towel in his back pocket and gestured for me to follow him. "Come on. We can go to the kitchen. Nobody's there."
He led me down a hallway, past restrooms, to a small kitchen with an old-fashioned dinette set that looked like a cast-off from some grandmother's 1970s kitchen. "Have a seat," he motioned to one of the cracked vinyl chairs and opened the refriger
ator. "Would you like a Coke or a Sprite or something?" he offered, still seeming confused to see me in his place of employment. I accepted a Sprite. He sat down opposite me and opened a can of Coke for himself and took a sip, all the while still staring. "You look...different."
Well, great. "Different?"
"No, I mean you look...good," he ended on a whisper. "Is everything ok? Did something happen?" He looked up from his soda to ask.
I took a sip of Sprite. "No, everything's fine." I just looked down at the scarred tabletop. Well, this was going brilliantly.
"Shit," I heard him mutter under his breath. "What's going on, Ally? Why did you come here, to my work?" he asked quietly.
"I'm so sorry, Jack. This was a mistake." I got up to leave, mortified at what I'd been about to do. I planned to just slink back home and never leave my room.
He put his hand on my arm to stop me. "No, it's ok. I'm sorry. I was just surprised to see you. What did you need?"
I sat back down. "I just wanted, um, I just wanted to know..." I couldn't finish.
"Hey," he rubbed my arm gently. His touch, light as it was, felt so incredibly good. "It's ok. Just tell me."
Finally, the dam burst. "Jack, what did I do? Why won't you talk to me?" I couldn't keep the tears from forming. Blast! Crap. Well, I was in all the way now. "What happened to us? I thought we were friends, but you've been really distant lately. You barely talk to me anymore."
"Aw, jeez, Ally," he moved from his chair to kneel in front of mine. He reached up to wipe the tears that were starting to make their way down my cheeks. I hoped the eyeliner and mascara that the girl at Sephora had coated my eyes with was not running. "You haven't done anything. It's not you, it's me."
Oh, well. That makes it all so much better. That classic line. I just started crying harder.
"Hey, hey. Come here," he lifted me out of the chair and into his arms. Well, this was better. I had wanted to be in his arms for quite a while. It felt so good, so right to be held by him. "Shh. Don't cry. We can figure this out." He held me close, stroking my hair.
This gave me hope. I pulled back and looked up into his handsome face. "What's going on, Jack? I miss the way it was. I miss you."
"Yeah," he sighed. "I miss you, too. But I thought I was doing us both a favor. I told you it wasn't a good idea for an 18 year-old on probation to hang out with a 16 year-old. My probation officer had a fit when he saw us together. That whole thing in the nurse's office with the pregnancy was not good for my report."
"I'm so sorry, Jack. I never meant to get you in trouble. I just want to be friends."
"Friends, huh?" he replied. "I'm not sure it's a good idea for us to be friends, Ally."
I drew away from him, appalled. So he had been trying to back away from me and it wasn't just my imagination. He wasn't interested in being friends or anything else. The disappointment flooded through me, filling me with heaviness. Oh, God, I needed to get out of here! "Oh, ok. I just thought...I mean...but if you don't want..." I started to back away.
"No, I mean," he reached for me. "Jesus, Ally. Of course I want...ah, screw it. Of course we're friends. I'm sorry I was such a jackass."
I threw myself back in his arms. "Oh, thank God. I thought you didn't want anything to do with me."
He 'oofed' a little at my enthusiasm and slowly wrapped his arms back around me, stroking my hair once or twice before pulling back and tipping my chin up with his finger. "It's that important to you, Ally? I didn't think it would matter that much." He looked vulnerable as he stared into my eyes.
I just nodded and laid my head back against his hard chest. "Yeah, Jack. It's that important."
"Ok. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you. I was just trying to do what's right for both of us. I don't think I'm good for you, Ally."
"Being friends is right for us," I whispered against him. "You're definitely good for me, Jack."
We just stayed like that for a moment, holding each other. At length he let me go and said, "Listen, I gotta get back to work. Manny's going to wonder what happened to me. How did you get here? Do you need a ride home?"
"No, Tara dropped me off. She's waiting for me at the Starbucks."
"So, Tara was in on this, huh?"
"Oh, it was completely her idea. She kidnapped me, dressed me up, drove me here, and practically pushed me out of the car," I explained.
"Oh, great. Wonderful. I'll have to thank her in person," he muttered sarcastically. "So, uh, can I call you tonight?" he asked hesitantly.
"Of course."
"And can I drive you home from school tomorrow?"
"Well, that won't work. I, uh, I actually have, uh, cheerleading tryouts after school tomorrow." I couldn't meet his eyes.
He choked on the Coke he had been in the process of sipping. He began coughing violently, so I moved around to whack him a few times on his back. If I got in a few caresses, well that's nobody's business but my own. "That unbelievable, huh?" I asked sardonically.
"No," he protested. "I just never pictured you as the cheerleader type. But whatever. I'm sure you'll make a great cheerleader."
"I'm sure I won't make it on the squad. I've never cheerleaded? Cheer-led? In my entire life. Tara thinks it will be a great way to get close to Veronica and find out what she's hiding."
"So, another one of Tara's brilliant ideas, huh? Well, I, for one, am looking forward to seeing you in one of those short little skirts." He earned a light punch on the arm for that.
"Hey, don't you have to get back to work? If I get you fired, your probation officer will not approve." I grabbed his hand and said, "Come on. You can walk me out."
When we emerged into the reception area again, Shelly was talking to an older man wearing the same sort of uniform as Jack. His said "Manny" on the pocket. He glanced at us, down at our locked hands, and then back to Jack's face, the question written clearly on his face. "Hey, Jack. I was wondering where you had disappeared to. Now I see. And who is this?"
I dropped Jack's hand and stepped forward, my hand now outstretched in greeting. "Hello, sir. I'm Ally Moran, a friend of Jack's from school. I'm sorry I distracted him for so long. I just needed to check on something we have to do for physics."
"I thought it was for English," said Shelly with a smirk. Well, she was so off my Christmas list.
Jack stepped in at this rather awkward point. "We just needed to talk. Ally, this is my uncle, Manuel Jimenez, and this," he gave a look at the young woman, "is my cousin, Shelly. Who should mind her own business." She just laughed and came around the reception desk to greet me.
"Hi, Ally, so nice to meet you." She gave me an exuberant hug and whispered, "good job, girl."
Wow. I'm not much of a hugger, but she seemed nice. Maybe back on my Christmas list.
"Call me Manny. Nice to meet you, Ally," Jack's uncle said. Both of them stared at us expectantly. Awkward.
"Well, Jack," I suddenly didn't know where to put my hands. "I need to let you get back to work. I'll, uh, talk to you later."
"I'll walk you over to Starbucks. Manny, I'll be right back."
"Sure, take your time," Manny seemed unconcerned. Maybe he was playing it a little too cool.
"Yeah, take your time," snickered Shelly. I'm pretty sure Jack shot her the finger as he ushered me out the front door. I could hear her cackling as we left.
"I am so sorry about that," Jack began.
"Don't worry about it. It was very sweet. It was less awkward than a tea party," I raised my eyebrows at him.
"Only slightly. Hey, I had an idea. Why don't I pick you up after your tryouts tomorrow and we can take Megan out for dinner and a movie? Or is that too lame?" It was cute to see him unsure of himself.
"It's perfect. Just the sort of things friends would do." I should have let it be, but I couldn't resist reaching up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "See ya tomorrow. Thanks." I left him standing in the Starbucks parking lot.
I was halfway to the door when he called out, "Hey!"
I turned ba
ck around expectantly.
"Tara did good. You look great!"
Tara was about halfway through a venti caramel macchiato when I joined her at the table. "Success? Judging by the look on your face," she guessed.
I told her about our conversation while she had an insufferable 'I told you so' look on her face.
"So, you guys are playing the 'we're just friends game'? Kinda lame."
"I don't think he will try to take it any farther until he's off probation. He's so damn noble," I groused. "If he even wants to take it farther."
"He does. Trust me on that. And in the meantime, you can enjoy torturing him," she advised.
"Tara! That's awful," I thought for a moment. "Torture him how?" I asked slowly.
"Well, keep kissing him on the cheek, for starters. You should have seen the look on his face when you turned around to come in here. It was priceless. BTW, 'just friends' don't typically go around doing that, you know. Unless the guy is gay."
"Been there, done that, remember?" I interjected.
"Yes, I remember. That asshole. Why are we still friends with him?"
"Because we've known him since middle school. And he's basically a good guy. But I can't believe I wasted my first kiss on him."
"Nuh uh, doesn't count," she stated emphatically. "That absolutely does not count. You get a do-over."
"Oh, good. I want it to be Jack. I just hope I don't have to wait till I'm 20."
"If you play your cards right, he could be your first everything, bow-chicka-wow-wow," she waggled her eyebrows up and down suggestively.
"Wow. You had to go there. Not talking about this. Let's go. I've got stuff to do and Jack said he'd call me tonight."
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth."
-Henry David Thoreau
Why is it that when you are dreading something, the time just seems to fly by? I mean, seriously. I found myself in my last period English class the next day with shocking speed.
"Hey," Jack tapped me on the shoulder. "You ok?"