by Mari Mancusi
“No one in your family’s gone to college?” I ask, before I can stop myself.
His eyes fall to the ground, his enthusiasm deflated by my callous question. Nice one, Dawn. “Nope,” he says. “Not that we’re stupid or anything. But do you know how much college costs these days?”
I have no idea how much colleges cost, namely because cost is not a factor in my household. The most expensive college in the country could not put the merest dent in Dad’s bank account. It’s so sad to me that someone who actually wants to go to college may not end up going and here I am, not really even wanting to go (at least not to uber-expensive Harvard!) and being forced to by rich parents. Life is so not fair.
“So that’s my dream,” he says with a small shrug. “Your turn.”
“I want to be a poet,” I say, deciding to go for broke. “But everyone thinks it’s stupid. My dad says I’m wasting my time. My friends think it’s completely geeky. But I can’t help it. I love poetry. When I’m writing, I can completely block out the world and I feel … I don’t know … alive, or something.”
My voice cracks a little at that last bit. Great. Now I’m going to start crying. Which is so not me. In fact, I usually take pride in the fact that I’m not one of those overly dramatic, cry-at-the-drop-of-a-hat girls. And here I am, right in front of Sean, ready to start bawling like a baby.
Lovely.
“I know you can’t make a living being a poet,” I sniff, trying to compose myself. “And everyone thinks they’re a good poet, so maybe I suck. Maybe I’m the worst poet known to mankind and I’m just deluding myself into thinking I have some talent and—”
Sean leans over and shuts me up with a kiss.
Chapter Nine
There’s like no buildup. No smoldering glance. No leaning in slowly and wondering which way to turn my face so we don’t bump noses. Just BAM! I’m locking lips with Sean.
Holy crap.
His lips are soft and taste like orange smoothie, and the chills they spark rocket through my body until I’m almost convinced I’ll start shooting fireworks from my fingers and toes. Which sure would be interesting …
Sean pulls away a moment later, way too soon for my liking. “Sorry,” he says, and I can see he’s blushing. How adorable. “You just look so cute when you get all passionate. I couldn’t help myself.”
He is the most wonderful boy ever. Possibly the most wonderful boy in the entire universe. I want to marry him and have his babies and grow old and hang out in matching rocking chairs on our front porch watching the young’uns and saying things like, “Back in our day, we didn’t behave like these whippersnappers.”
Not that I’m going to admit that right now. Don’t want the boy to jump up and run from the room screaming.
“It’s okay,” I say shyly, staring down at my smoothie. “I kind of liked it.”
“Yeah? Cool,” he says, sounding a bit shy himself. He is so cute I cannot even stand it. “Wanna go dance some more?”
Um, dance? No effing way. I don’t want to dance. I want to stay right here and make out with Sean until the sun rises over the horizon. And then continue until it sets and rises again. In fact, I’m pretty convinced if Sean were to kiss me nonstop for the next fifty years, I still wouldn’t have my fill of his scrumptious lips.
“Sure,” I say out loud. “Let’s go dance.”‘Cause like I said, I so don’t want to scare the guy off. I’ve got to play my cards right. Not be too easy. Keep him wanting me. Desiring me. At least that’s what I read in last month’s Cosmo.
So we head back on the dance floor. It’s late, but I’m even more exuberant than before, the kiss having flooded me with energy. We dance and we laugh and we dance some more. I have no sense of time or place. Just the here and now. The being with Sean. The amazing Sean. Sigh.
“Time to go!”
It seems only minutes later, but has probably been hours when Starr interrupts me with the mandate of returning home before her dad wakes up and finds us gone. Reluctantly, Sean and I follow her and Eddie out of the warehouse. I’m shocked to see that the sun is already peeking over the trees. It’s morning and I’ve been out all night. I’ve never, ever stayed up all night before, never mind stayed up dancing and making out with a cute boy.
Life is definitely looking up.
Eddie drives us back to the cemetery. We say our good-byes—Sean gives me the most adorable peck kiss on my nose—and head back to Starr’s house.
“That was so amazing,” I say, twirling around in the early-morning air, unable to stop babbling. “That was like the best night of my life.”
Starr smiles at me and squeezes my shoulder. “I’m glad you had fun,” she says. “Sean seems like a really nice guy.”
“He is. Really, super nice.” I wonder if this means Sean is now my official boyfriend. How delicious. I have a boyfriend. A sexy, wonderful, cool, skateboarder boyfriend. Woot!
A nagging thought tugs at the back of my brain, pestering me with reality crap that I don’t want to think about right now. Namely, what will The Evil Ones say about Sean?
One, I’m not even supposed to be dating yet. Not until I turn sixteen next month. And two, even if I did meet their puritanical age prerequisite, Sean’s not exactly the type of guy they’ll be expecting me to bring home. A bit too diamond-in-the-rough for their tastes, I’d say. And not Brent Baker the Third, whom they’ve been dying to pimp me out to since my diaper days. In other words, they want me with a guy from a good family who has a mapped-out future like they have for me.
A punk skater from the wrong side of the tracks who may not even go to college is not an option for me, in their eyes. They will never let me date him. Not in a million years.
But I can’t not date him. Not now. I adore him. He’s like the best thing ever. I can’t bear to lose him just because of their stupid rules. I’ll just have to be careful. And then try to figure out how to break it to them eventually.
Like, by sending them the wedding invitation in the mail?
“I can’t believe it’s morning,” I say, glancing at my watch and then releasing a yawn. I’m so tired it’s not even funny.
“Yeah, well, I’m totally going to sleep all day,” Starr says with a laugh. “Sunshine is way overrated.”
“Lucky. I’ve got to be at the nursing home in two hours for my volunteer work.”
“Can’t you call in sick?”
“No way.” I shake my head. “The Evil Ones would like never let me stay over at your house again if I did that.”
And since staying over at her house is the only way I’m going to get to see Sean, I’m so not burning that bridge. No, I’ll manage to stay awake. Somehow.
My future with Sean depends on it.
Chapter Ten
“Dawn, dearie, wake up.”
“Five more minutes, Mom,” I murmur, pulling the covers over my head.
Except there are no covers.
I jerk up and look around. I’m not at home. Not in my bed. In fact, I’ve evidently fallen asleep in Mrs. McCrery’s rocking chair at the Sunnybrook Nursing Home.
“Sorry, Mrs. McCrery. I had kind of a late night last night.” I grin ruefully as I reach down to the floor to retrieve the paperback I’d been reading aloud to her.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she coos. Mrs. McCrery doesn’t have any living relatives and has taken me on as her adopted granddaughter. I could probably apologize for stealing all her Vicodin and selling it on the black market and she’d forgive me for that, too. (Um, not that I’d do that, obviously.)
I glance over at the sweet-faced woman sitting primly in her nursing-home bed. She’s ninety-two and doesn’t get out of bed much these days, but always insists the nurses dress her each and every morning. Heaven forbid she be asked to greet guests wearing her nightgown, she always says.
I shouldn’t have even come today. I’m so tired I feel sick to my stomach. Working on less than two hours of sleep—bleh! Any reasonable person would have called in sick, but Mrs.
McCrery lives for my visits and I couldn’t bring myself to disappoint her. One time I skipped a Saturday because of a dance recital and the old woman tried to break out of the nursing home to come find me, convinced I’d been in a deadly car accident. That’s what happened to her real-life granddaughter Kelly. It took three days and a special Tuesday visit from me to reassure her I was still alive and kicking. So no matter what else is going on in my life, I have to see Mrs. McCrery.
“Now, where were we?” I ask, flipping the pages of the romance novel I’d brought to read to her. When I first met Mrs. McCrery, the woman liked nothing but long historical epics, which bored me to tears. So now I try to mix it up a bit—broaden her literary horizons, so to speak. Like today; we’re reading this way cool action romance about vampires, werewolves, and robots, all living in futuristic LA. And she’s totally digging it. Which goes to show, old people can be way cooler than most people assume.
“The good part,” Mrs. McCrery crows, clapping her wrinkled hands together. I stifle a groan. By the good part, she means the sex scene. Sometimes I try to skip over those—kind of embarrassing to read out loud to a woman who could be your great-grandmother—but they’re her favorite part. And since I’ve already fallen asleep on the job, I figure I should probably indulge her this time.
“He leaned in to caress her delicate—”
“Do you have a beau, Dawn, dearie?”
I put a finger in the book to hold its place, happy to put the sex-scene reading aside. Evidently Mrs. McCrery has picked up on my just-been-kissed afterglow. I’m not surprised. Even in my exhaustion, I feel I’m radiating nuclear-powered love vibes.
“I’m kind of seeing a guy named Sean,” I admit, fiddling with the end of my braid, a soppy smile accompanying my admission.
“Sean. Such a nice Irish name,” Mrs. McCrery says with a sigh. “What’s his family name?”
Hmm. Actually, I have no idea. Weird. I mean, on one hand I feel like this guy is my soul mate, and on the other, I hardly know anything about him. Where does he live? What’s his family like? When’s his birthday? The only things I know are that 1) he wants to be a professional skater and go to college, and 2) he’s an amazing kisser.
Luckily, with Mrs. McCrery, if you ignore her question for about two minutes, she forgets she’s asked it. Which is very helpful, since she tends to ask some pretty embarrassing questions. But while this time she does forget, she also has a follow-up to her initial query.
“What do your parents think?” she asks pointedly. Hmm. Sometimes she can be awfully keen for an old lady.
“They haven’t met him yet,” I admit. “But I’m sure they’ll love him when they do.”
Yeah, right. The Evil Ones will take one look at Sean’s scruffy skater appearance and start sending out wedding invitations. Not! They’re so pigheaded they’ll never give him even the slightest chance to prove he’s a good guy.
Meh. The more I think about it, the more I realize how much this whole thing sucks.
*
“Dawn, may I see you after class?”
A heavy weight plunges to the pit of my stomach at my Chemistry teacher, Sister Mary Anne’s, words. The bell rings and all the other carefree, not-in-trouble students file out of the classroom and I, instead, must approach the front of the room. Not good.
It’s Monday, and I’m still exhausted from Friday night’s adventure. After visiting with Mrs. McCrery Saturday morning, I went straight to my gymnastics meet. I performed horribly. Even fell off the balance beam while doing the simplest turn. My coach was not happy. In fact, I had to swear my life away that I’d do better next time just to convince her not to call my parents.
Sunday, I went to church with The Evil Ones (fell asleep after the first hymn) and then had to sit through a formal dinner with all their boring old friends and listen to my dad brag about me and my accomplishments. Of course, he doesn’t do this to stroke my ego—no way! He just wants them to think he’s all “Father of the Year” or some such crap.
The only thing that got me through it all was my never-ending thoughts of Sean. Sean and his awesome kisses, to be precise. Every time I thought of him I got this warm, squishy feeling that made everything else seem halfway tolerable.
But I realize yummy Sean thoughts aren’t going to work this time, as I watch Sister Mary Anne slam down Friday’s Chemistry exam on her shiny wooden desk. Nope, no fuzzy making-out memories can soften the blow of the big red “F” scribbled at the top.
Can we say, so not good?
“Dawn, is everything okay?” Sister Mary Anne asks, her squeaky voice filled with concern. The kids call her Mary Mouse behind her back. “This isn’t like you.”
“I’m fine,” I mutter, wondering how on earth I’m going to explain this to The Evil Ones. Maybe I can file papers for my emancipation before progress reports come out.
“You’re one of my best students,” the Sister says, smoothing her hands over her black habit. “I can’t understand this.”
I wonder what it’s like to be a nun. To swear off men for life. I could not do that. I mean, what a missed opportunity. A waste of a good pair of lips. Maybe Sister Mary Anne has never met the right guy. If she had, I doubt she’d be able to live up to her vows.
“I know. I’m sorry,” I say, staring at the dusty hardwood classroom floor. Wow, all the money The Evil Ones pay for tuition and the school can’t find a proper janitor.
“Is everything all right at home?”
“Yes,” I say, feeling bad for not being able to explain. I know she’s genuinely worried about me and that’s nice. But how do I tell a nun I didn’t study ‘cause I’m dating a new boy? She’ll so not be able to relate.
The Sister sighs and picks up the test. I watch in amazement as she tears it in half, then in quarters, and flutters the scraps of paper into the trash. I sure didn’t see that one coming.
“I’m going to assume this was a fluke,” she says. “And I’ll allow you to retake the test tomorrow during class. I’m sure you’ll be able to get a better grade the next time around?” she asks, raising an eyebrow in question.
Relief floods me. “Definitely. Of course. Thank you, Sister,” I babble, practically bowing to her in my relief. This is great. I can go home and study all night. Then tomorrow I’ll be able to ace the retest easy. The Evil Ones will never know the difference. Phew.
At that moment, my phone buzzes in my purse. I say a quick good-bye to the nun and dash out of the classroom. As soon as I’m in the hall, I whip out the phone to see who texted me. Hoping upon hope it was Sean.
I’m not disappointed.
>Want to come over 2night?
My heart pounds triple time as I reread the message. He wants me to come over? To his house? That’s like a second date. How cool is that? And this time we’ll be alone—no Starr and Eddie to interrupt us. Which means plenty of time for kissing. Man, I can’t wait to kiss Sean again. I think I’m turning into a nympho or something.
Then my pounding heart sinks as reality kicks in. There’s no way I can go over to his house tonight. I’ve got to study for my Chemistry test. I can’t screw up my second chance at a good grade. That’d be suicide.
My phone buzzes a new message.
>My mom wants to meet u.
Aww. He told his mom about me? That’s so sweet. He must really, really like me if he wants me to meet his family, right? And I so want to meet them. How can I pass up this opportunity?
You know, I could probably swing by for an hour or so and then just stay up all night and study. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ve totally pulled all-nighters before. No big deal.
>See you after school!
Chapter Eleven
The bus pulls up to the downtown stop and I scamper out, giving the driver a friendly wave as I exit. He grunts in return.
I can’t believe I’m here. Alone. Without even Starr to keep me safe. I feel all Dorothy, We’re Not in Kansas Anymore. And the craziest thing is no one knows where I am. The Evil Ones
think I’m safe at the library, studying. And I didn’t see Starr at school to mention it to her.
I look around. Downtown is just as ghetto as I remembered it. Crumbling, boarded-up factories from back when it was a thriving shoemaking town line the street. Squat convenience stores, with bars over the windows and panhandlers by the doors, dot every other corner lot. Lovely.
I involuntarily shiver. You know, I could probably get murdered down here. Knifed or something. And no one would know where to look for my body.
I wonder which missing-girl photo my parents would select for the milk carton, should I disappear. It’d better not be that geeky one from seventh grade. The idea of me, beaming in braces, on milk cartons across the country is way more frightening than my current geographic location.
Picking up my pace, I head down to the parking deck where I’m supposed to meet up with Sean. My pulse speeds up with the anticipation of seeing him again and nervous butterflies torment my stomach. You know, if he keeps having this effect on me, I’m bound to develop some kind of cardiac arrhythmia before I hit twenty. Though at least I’ll die happy.
Under the parking deck, I hear him before I can see him. The crashing, echoing of his skateboard as his wheels take flight and then collide with concrete as they descend back to earth.
I catch sight of him shortly after. He’s turned a trash barrel on its side and is jumping it with his board. Once airborne, he shifts his body to the right and flips around in the air so he lands facing the other side. Impressive, if you ask me. Très impressive.
I stand back a little, wanting to watch his moves for a moment before making my presence known. Skaters are such talented athletes; it’s a shame society doesn’t accept their sport as mainstream. At Sacred Mary’s, if a guy doesn’t play football, he might as well be wearing a big “L” for loser on his chest. But it takes a lot more courage and skill to skateboard than to smack into people wearing tons of padding.