My Big Nose and Other Natural Disasters

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My Big Nose and Other Natural Disasters Page 13

by Sydney Salter


  I looked over to my mirror at the picture of Tyler smiling. I'd cut it out of a Caughlin Rancher article about his charity work at the animal shelter. Megan jumped up and tore the photo off the wall. A strange sensation relaxed my stomach as I watched Megan act out my own feelings.

  "How could I not see that you weren't interested in me?" she yelled at the photo. "How stupid am I?"

  "Meg. He's a big flirt." I channeled Megan as if I were starring in one of those body-switching movies.

  "And it's a big lie. I'm going to tell everyone I know. I'll take an ad out in the paper. I'll spray-paint it on his car. I'll—" She crunched the newspaper clipping in her hand and tossed it on the bed.

  I picked it up and smoothed it out. Maybe he'd just been trying to let Megan down easy. Maybe he made up all that stuff and faked it, so that Megan would leave him alone and he could be with me. He had touched my knee. He had been flirting with me practically all summer. But I kept seeing the cold expression on his face at the lake. Right after he'd spotted Drew's ski boat.

  "Meg, just give it time. He's only one guy, remember? You said something about that at the lake."

  "That was before I got fired." Megan took the clipping from me and tore it into little pieces. "You've ruined my life!" Megan wadded each torn piece into a little ball and flicked it off her hand. "You big loser!" Flick. Flick.

  "Meg. I know you're upset about Tyler and all, but you're the one who decided to get drunk and go to work. Tyler really has nothing to do with the fact that you got fired." Again, I sounded like regular, sane Megan. "You did that to yourself."

  "I know. I know. What am I going to do? I needed the recommendation, but I also needed the money. I don't live in a fancy house like you and Hannah. I need a scholarship."

  I thought about all the overtime Mom put in at work and the fight she'd just had with Dad about money, but I didn't want to go into all that. "Getting fired doesn't show up on your transcript, you know."

  "With my luck it probably will. The attorney will send a note or something to all the Ivy Leagues, UC schools— everywhere but Truckee Meadows." Megan pouted. "Jory, be honest. Do you think I have alcohol issues?"

  "Meg. Until that time before the movie, I'd never even seen you drink."

  "Maybe it's like meth. You can get hooked the first time!" Megan's mouth twisted into a frown. "I'm just so sick of being a high school girl and losing the popularity game. I wanted to have a couple of drinks like a mature adult."

  "I don't think it's working."

  "Oh, God. It's totally not." Megan squeezed her head as if suppressing memories. "You should've seen me standing in front of Barnes with wet hair, getting a lecture that I totally would've given myself if I'd been sober. It was the worst thing ever." Tears fell down her cheeks as she told me the rest of the story—packing up her box of things while Lusty Lawyer ignored her. Refusing Tyler's help. Calling her mom out of a summer school class because she wasn't sober enough to drive. Refusing Tyler's help. Facing her mother's major wrath. Refusing Tyler's phone calls. More motherly wrath.

  Megan wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I'm grounded forever. But my mom really wanted me to apologize to you."

  "Thanks," I said, surprised that I actually felt Hannah's silly freedom-of-forgiveness thing.

  The door to the garage flung open. "Let's go!" Mom shouted. Megan and I walked out into the kitchen. Grocery bags hung from Mom's hands. A frosted sugar cookie dangled in her mouth.

  "Megan, dear!" she mumbled through a mouthful of cookie. Charming.

  Mom's eyes had lit up like she had always secretly wanted Megan for a daughter; she'd probably even accept Megan's alcohol issues because they came with shiny hair and a beautiful classic nose.

  Mom popped the rest of the cookie in her mouth and sneaked another one out of the package. "Won't you come to Finn's game with us? I bought subs and plenty of snacks." She put several bags on the counter.

  Dad walked in. A look of shock froze on his face.

  "Cookie?" Mom asked with her mouth full.

  Megan and I sat on the ground next to my parents and their dedicated-and-experienced-soccer-mom-and-dad foldup chairs, umbrella, and cooler. I enjoyed the feeling of the cool grass against the backs of my legs. Megan ate only half a small sandwich, not even touching her Cheetos, while I ate an entire jumbo sub, picking every scrap of limp lettuce off the paper and popping it into my mouth. I also wet my finger and zapped up every little fragment of sour cream and onion potato chip in my bag. Who knew how long the junk food trend would last. Mom devoured her sandwich, plus another three cookies. Dad watched warily, as if some creature were about to erupt from Mom's body like in that old alien movie.

  "Way to go, Finn!" Mom yelled as Finn scored a goal.

  Megan waved when Finn looked in our direction. "Your brother is so amazing."

  "Trust me. He's disgusting." I considered sticking my tongue into my chip bag and licking it clean but caught the gooey look on Megan's face. Did Megan like Finn? What did she mean by amazing? Soccer? Or looks? "Meg, he prides himself on belching the alphabet. And sometimes he and his buddies hold farting contests."

  "All guys do that kind of thing."

  "I doubt it." I couldn't imagine Tyler belching and farting in front of everyone. Would Gideon? No way. Too polite. Finn may have looked like an Adonis, but he acted like a barn animal.

  "Finn is truly hopeless," I said. "My parents are going to have to send him away to some kind of training program for beastly brothers before any respectable woman will date him."

  Megan raised her eyebrows at me and smirked. No one needed to remind me that plenty of girls—respectable and otherwise—had already dated him.

  "Pick someone else," I said.

  We spent the rest of the game rating the players on various skills and qualities: Looks Best When He Runs (Mike Johnson); Best Butt Even in Ugly Nylon Shorts (#23 on the opposing team); Most Active Sweat Glands (poor Thomas Mason); Best Legs (#16); Loudest Grunter (#15); Nicest Smile (Ian Allen); Best Nose ("That's totally weird, Jory." Silent vote for #7); Best Sportsmanship (#5); Best Hair (Luke); Best Overall (Megan insisted it was Finn, but I gave Luke my vote).

  After the game, we waited while the coach talked to the players, and Mom and Dad celebrated with the other parents. Luke and Finn kicked the ball back and forth. When they kicked the ball out-of-bounds, I picked it up and tossed it back, aiming right at Finn.

  Wham.

  The ball hit Luke in the back. Oh, God. Just kill me now before I die of embarrassment.

  "Hey!" Luke sounded all offended, but he tossed the ball back to me.

  "Throw it back to him," Megan whispered. "Now."

  I faced Luke, let the ball fly, and watched it wobble through the air and land right in front of Finn.

  "So that's the story, is it?" Luke ran up to Finn and stole the ball from him, kicking it so that it landed in front of me. I tried to kick it back but missed.

  "Very funny," Luke said. "Kick it right here." He pointed to the ground right in front of him.

  I pulled my leg way back. Connection! The ball lofted in the air and sailed right to Luke. Yes! I'm a soccer goddess—

  Wham!

  Luke doubled over in pain. I stood there, mouth gaping, face blazing, not sure what to do.

  "Oh, my God, Jory." Megan gasped. "You've put him out of commission. Maybe forever!"

  What should I do? I cant exactly run over there and comfort the guy, right? Luke moaned and rolled on the ground.

  "Nice one, klutz." Finn ran over and patted Luke on the back. "You okay, buddy?"

  "I am so sorry!" I called out before running to the car, planning to peel out of the parking lot like a hit man in a mobster movie, forgetting that Mom had the keys. Omigod. I've maimed the hottest guy at Reno High. Current chances of dying a virgin: 99.9 percent. And that's being charitable.

  Megan caught up with me. "Now that's what they mean by a ball breaker."

  "Do you think I should apologize to Kayla?"

>   I meant it seriously, but Megan doubled over laughing. "Dear Kayla, I'm sorry to have ruined all your hopes for senior prom night. But think of all the benefits of castration." Megan laughed harder, making me laugh too.

  "I don't think she'll understand castration," I said. "How about 'imagine a picnic without balls to play with or a wiener to roast.'"

  Megan laughed until she couldn't breathe.

  "It's not funny," Finn said in an angry voice as the door to the minivan slid open. "It hurts. Bad."

  "Now I've blown it too." Megan held her lips closed for a split second before laughing again. Finn glared at her.

  "Judith Hearne, here we come!" I yelled.

  "To good old Judith." Megan high-fived me. "A bottle of whiskey is the only man we need."

  In the rearview mirror, we saw Mom furrow her brows, but that just made us laugh until we snorted. Everything is okay between Megan and me! I felt as light as angel food cake.

  Chapter Eighteen

  SECRETS

  The warm morning air blew through my shirt as I zipped around the speed bumps on Cashill, down Skyline, past the castle house and the golf course onto Arlington. All downhill: piece of cake. Pun intended. I dreaded the ride/walk while pushing my bike uphill at the end of the day in the hot, freckle-producing afternoon sun—pretty soon I'd look like a poppy seed cake. Katie had asked me to come to work early so I could drive out to the distribution place and pick up supplies.

  SIX EASY STEPS TO PICKING UP SUPPLIES, JORY STYLE:

  1. Park near loading-dock area but not near gigantic semi trucks. Smile when gum-snapping Warehouse Guy tells you to back up to the dock (even though you technically failed this portion of your driver's-license test).

  2. Inch. Inch. Pause. Check to see how close you are to semi trucks. Too close.

  3. Ignore the truck drivers handing one another money (yes, they are making bets).

  4. Bump into loading dock. Straighten wheels? Ignore gleam from shiny red semi truck mere millimeters away. Ignore laughing, betting truckers. Do not ignore guy yelling, "Your wheels are crooked and that's my rig you're about to scrape up!"

  5. Allow frantic trucker to guide you: "Inch a little way that way, no, too far. Go back. Why don't you just let me do it? No! Just a smidge this way. Too far. Listen to me, girl. Stop!"

  6. Don't park anywhere near gigantic semi trucks. Thank truckers waddling all the way out to van with heavy boxes. Ignore guy counting his money.

  When I returned, Katie took one look at the boxes filling the van and muttered that she should have hired a man for my job. She kept asking me questions about why it had taken me so long. I swore that I hadn't gotten lost. Yes (nose growing), everything had gone well.

  "It was really busy." I scratched my tingling nose. "I had to wait."

  "Okay, okay. We'll manage, but we're kind of behind schedule. I've got to start baking so you're going to have to unload everything yourself."

  I stared at the densely packed van. Several boxes had "Duncan Hines" printed in bold red letters. Katie used a mix? If only all those brides knew!

  Katie rubbed her temples. "Don't just stand there. Get the box cutter, and bring them in one at a time if you have to. Why me?" she muttered on her way back inside.

  By noon, sweat poured off the tip of my nose. Any makeup I'd put on that morning had run down my chin. My hair clung to the back of my neck with sweat. As I bunched my damp curls into a ponytail and fanned myself, Tyler's Jeep pulled up to the curb. I straightened my shirt and patted down my hair even as I thought, Why?

  He pushed his sunglasses up. "Hey, Jory."

  "I'm kind of busy." I hefted a bag of powdered sugar and carried it inside.

  Tyler was leaning against the van looking down at his black loafers when I got back. He'd loosened his tie; it hung around his neck like a noose.

  "I thought maybe I could take you to lunch." He looked up, then down at his feet again. "Maybe we could talk."

  "I'm kind of in trouble for being so late today," I said, glancing back toward the kitchen door. "I'm not sure she's going to give me a lunch break." And what could he possibly want to talk to me about anyway? Finn?

  "I could help with your deliveries then." He looked at me with those blue eyes. "Like last time?" His voice sounded so shy and quiet.

  "Let me go ask." I walked back in to see Katie pouring a box of Duncan Hines cake mix into a bowl. In spite of all the fans running at full speed, the kitchen shimmered with heat.

  "Now you know my secret." She flushed. "I add things to improve it."

  "Hey, they taste great, right?" I smiled. "And look gorgeous. Can I go to lunch now?"

  Katie made me promise to get back by one, no calls about car accidents or backing-up troubles. "Chuck called from the distribution center. Guess you made quite a scene." Katie smiled reproachfully and turned the mixer on low.

  "I guess I should've said something right away."

  Katie shrugged.

  Tyler drove me over to JJ's Pie Company for pizza. We ordered slices and sat in the dark dining room, not really looking at each other. My sweat-soaked shirt felt chilly in the air conditioning, and I'm sure I smelled great too. I lifted my hair up and tied it in a knot while looking around at all the posters hanging on the walls. Zane Zimmerman smiled at me from the Reno High basketball schedule. Maybe I'd have to revisit my ZZ obsession. So what if he was moving to California for college? Maybe I could go to boarding school. Or just skip senior year. My new nose and I could take California by storm. I could model, act, and maybe get my own sitcom. We'd have a fabulous beach house and a pool with waterfalls.

  "So, about the lake." Tyler pushed the ice in his Coke around with his straw. "Um."

  I looked up at Zane as if he'd whisk me away that very minute to my fabulous California-swimming-pool fantasy.

  "Megan told me about—" I took a sip of my Coke and choked. As I coughed, I waited for Tyler to say something. Anything.

  Tyler stared at me, making me nervous, so I stopped coughing and blabbed on. "We kind of—figured things out."

  Even in the dark I could see Tyler blush deep crimson, but he still didn't say anything, so I blurted, "Megan kind of lost it, huh?"

  Tyler stared down at the table. "About that."

  "I know. It's so unlike her. I mean, if I had to vote for someone to be least likely to get drunk at work, it would be Megan, right? But I don't know why they had to go and fire her. Shouldn't they fire the perv who paid for the drinks?"

  The guy at the counter called my name, and I jumped up to grab our slices. Tyler's silence freaked me out. Usually he was the one joking around, flirting. I glanced up at a beer poster with a busty girl in a swimsuit. Pre—Fourth of July Tyler would've been making jokes about how he'd once dated her.

  "Do you think Megan said anything at work—when she was drunk?" Tyler spoke so softly I had to lean toward him to hear.

  "No. She totally covered for that jerk! As if the whole margarita incident were her idea. The guy actually keeps girls' bikinis in his condo. Can you believe it? I can't believe she found anything attractive about that guy. He seems so slimy."

  Tyler looked up. "Did she say anything about me?" He hadn't even picked up his pizza.

  "Why would she say anything about you?"

  "Isn't she freaking out because of—?"

  "Oh." I held my pizza slice midair. "She really liked you." My turn to blush as I took a bite of my pizza; the cheese felt rubbery in my mouth, so I set the rest of it down.

  "Yeah. Right. I guess I kind of led her on. She's really cool and everything and I—" He put his head in his hands. "I'm such a screwup." His shoulders shook. Was Tyler crying?

  I sat there like an idiot, not knowing what to do. Say something comforting! "Hey, look, lots of girls liked—like—you. You're really charming and cute, but—"

  "Completely uninterested."

  "But nobody really knows that."

  "And they can't. Jory, they can't." He stared at me with wet eyes, twisting
his napkin in his hand. "You've got to tell Megan that she can't say anything."

  "Don't worry—" I reached out and touched his arm.

  "Don't worry? If Megan starts telling people and my dad finds out, I'm over." A couple of girls at the table next to us turned their heads. Tyler glowered at the girls and leaned in closer. "Over."

  "I'm sure your dad would understand. I mean—"

  A flicker of panic crossed his face. "Jory, he can never know. He'd kill me. I'm not exaggerating. He'd rather see me dead than have a g-gay son. I've heard him say it."

  I watched Tyler with his magazine-model face, thinking how he looked like the ideal son, the ideal boyfriend, the kind of guy always cast in ads and movies. I'd always thought his life was perfect: rich parents, nice car, gorgeous, popular, athletic. Tyler leaned toward me, picked up my hand, and squeezed hard.

  "No one can find out," Tyler said in a low growl. "Ever."

  He looked at me with an intense expression. An older woman passing by to pick up her order glanced at me with an ahh-young-love smile, as if I were having a romantic lunch with my boyfriend.

  "I won't say anything." I tried to pull my aching hand away. "And I don't think you have to worry about Megan." I'd call her the minute I got home and make her promise not to do anything mean or stupid.

  Tyler closed his eyes, nodded, and finally let go of my hand.

  Questions whirred in my mind as if whipped by Katie's high-speed mixer. How did he know? When did he know? Why did he date that McQueen girl? What about Rachael Beal? Was he a hundred percent sure? Was he maybe just confused? Maybe it was a phase, like one of Mom's diets. No, that's stupid! Kids have killed themselves rather than admit that they're gay.

  Tyler looked at me with wide eyes as if he were watching the questions churn in my mind. I reached over and touched his hand—quick—and he exhaled like a deflating balloon.

  Neither of us finished the pizza or said much on the way back to Katie's. But later, when I left work and unlocked my bike, Tyler was there to give me a ride home.

 

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