The Book of Luke

by Jenny O'Connell

  I could feel Luke’s warm breath on my neck and all of a sudden it was like the roles were reversed, like I was the one being tested. Here was my chance to close the deal. All I had to do was let Luke kiss me and we’d be on our way. But all I could think about as Luke got closer was the last time I kissed a guy—and it wasn’t exactly a pleasant memory. Besides, I’d be kissing someone who used to kiss my best friend. Didn’t that qualify as vaguely creepy, even if she supposedly approved?

  I knew I should just do it and get it over with. The guy just wanted a kiss, for God’s sake, it wasn’t like he was asking me to take the SATs for him. Just one little kiss and I’d prove I could get Luke to want me, and prove that I was over Sean. But I couldn’t, and as Luke leaned into me, his eyes closed and his lips aiming straight for my mouth, I quickly stood up and jumped up off the couch like he’d zapped me with a Taser.

  “You should really get going,” I told him, glancing at my watch. “They might come home early and you really shouldn’t be here.”

  Luke sat there for a minute like he was trying to tell if I was playing hard to get or if I was actually serious. I guess he decided I was serious because he finally got up, grabbed his coat from the chair, and walked over to the front door.

  I followed him and offered a halfhearted “thanks for coming” before opening the door.

  Luke stood there. “Well, thanks for the Sprite. And thanks for letting me stay. It was nice of you.”

  Without realizing it, Luke had uttered the magic word.

  Nice. I’d show him nice. Before Luke could turn to leave I reached out, grabbed his coat collar, and pulled him toward me in one full swoop.

  It was kind of off center and a little too hard considering I’d practically jerked him through the door, but I’d done it. So what if it wasn’t the greatest kiss in the world? It was still a kiss.

  “Good night.” I started to back away, but before I could reach for the door handle and put a barrier between me and my project, Luke reached for my hand and pulled me into him, even placing his other hand under my chin so I couldn’t look away. Instantly his lips were on mine again, but this time I was sure there wouldn’t be any visible bruising. This time it was a real kiss. A really nice, soft, real kiss.

  After what felt like an eternity, or at least two minutes, Luke backed away. “That was better.”

  “Yeah, it was,” I told him, a little out of breath. I put my finger to my lips and touched them, trying to see if they felt different. Different from the lips Sean used to kiss, the lips of someone who would never kiss a guy just because she had a job to do.

  Luke laughed at me. “You sound surprised.”

  “Maybe,” I answered. And it was the truth. I had no idea how many girls Luke had kissed or the extent of his long list of female conquests, but he was an amazing kisser. Like the assumed sweaty hands and calluses, I kind of expected him to have chapped lips or something.

  “I’ll see you on Monday,” Luke called out, already heading down the front walk.

  “See you on Monday,” I called back, although by the time I got the words out he was already in his car with the engine running.

  I’d done it. This was the official start of me and Luke. It was proof that nice Emily was truly on the way out and the new Emily was here to stay. And I expected that thought to make me feel pretty good, but instead I couldn’t help thinking that I had no idea the new Emily would enjoy kissing Luke so much.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Guy’s Guide Tip #35:

  Believe it or not, we don’t mind paying for ourselves. So don’t go through all the drama of pretending you lost your wallet somewhere or you gave your last five bucks to the Salvation Army Santa you passed on the street. We might even offer to pay for you.

  If we were in a movie, I would have said something like “the eagle has landed” or “mission accomplished.” Instead I just said, “I kissed him.”

  Lucy looked surprised, but Josie looked like she was going to throw up into her vanilla Frappuccino.

  “It was nothing big. No tongue even,” I lied, trying to soften the blow by breaking off a piece of my blueberry muffin and offering it to her.

  Josie sat there, not saying a word. She wouldn’t even look at my blueberry peace offering.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Really. I thought I was doing what you wanted.”

  Okay, so I knew it wasn’t exactly what Josie wanted. What she really wanted was to get back at Luke. It just so happened that the only way to do that was to have her best friend make out with him. Sort of.

  I’ll never forget how, in eighth grade, Josie was caught shoplifting a pair of sterling silver hoop earrings from The Limited and the security guard pulled Lucy and me into the back room with her. I swear, it was exactly like those interrogation scenes on TV, complete with uncomfortable metal chairs and a one-way mirror spanning the length of one wall (afterward, Lucy kept insisting it was just a regular old mirror, but I swear there were people back there watching our every move). The guard told us he was calling all of our parents, even though Lucy and I hadn’t been caught stealing anything (as far as he knew; later I found out that Lucy had a necklace in her shoe). Josie kept pleading with the guy to let Lucy and me go, trying to convince him that we hadn’t done anything wrong. And finally he did let us leave, but not before scaring us straight with stories that practically had us convinced shoplifting led to the electric chair. We left Josie in the back room with the security guard while he dialed her parents’ phone number, and the two of us got the hell out of there as fast as we could. The thing was, no matter how much trouble Josie was about to get in, instead of trying to save herself, she was more concerned with sticking up for me and Lucy. And now it was my turn to stick up for her, to get back at Luke for hurting her, no matter how hot Luke looked standing in the Brocks’ doorway after our kiss. He was the enemy. And I shouldn’t enjoy making out with the enemy.

  Josie shook her head at me and bit her lip. “Don’t be sorry. It has to be done. Right now there are eight-year-old girls who will one day open the time capsule and thank us.”

  That was true, but until then, Josie was going to have to hear about how I kissed her ex-boyfriend. And I didn’t envy her. If I had to listen as my best friend described how she’d kissed Sean, I think I’d need to be heavily sedated. Not that my kiss with Luke was anything to brag about, at least not the first kiss, but Josie was handling this way better than I ever would.

  This morning when Josie called to tell me they were on their way to pick me up and take me to Starbucks, I almost felt queasy at the thought of telling her about my lip lock with her ex-boyfriend. While I completely understood why she loved the idea of the guide (really, what girl wouldn’t?), I couldn’t quite figure out why she’d want to test it out on Luke. So what if he was the ideal candidate for reform? And even if I succeeded in turning him into perfect boyfriend material, it wasn’t like Josie would want him back after what he did to her. So, while in theory I could see why Josie was into the idea of the guide, in actuality I didn’t really get it. The guide would only make him better for his next girlfriend, so what was in it for her?

  Not that I was about to ask Josie about it. She was willing to offer up Luke for our experiment, so who was I to question her? Besides, I don’t handle conflict well. Which is another reason I dreaded telling Josie about kissing Luke. Although she was the one who’d come up with the idea to change Luke in the first place, I was still afraid she’d kill me, even if, personally, I was quite pleased with my progress. And I don’t just mean my progress getting Luke to like me.

  Last night after Luke left the Brocks’ house, I was feeling pretty damn proud of my last-ditch effort to snare an unsuspecting Luke in my web of deceit. “Web of deceit”—that sounded so cool. Sean would never think I was capable of spinning a web of deceit. The only web he would think I’d spin would be nice and cozy, a web where everyone was welcome and refreshments were served—perhaps even a meat-free option for vegeta
rians and something vegan-friendly.

  But I’d done it. I’d lured Luke into stopping by the Brock’s house (so what if I didn’t know I was luring him there, the point was he showed up). I’d even enticed him into attempting to make out with me on their couch (again, so what if I stood up before he managed to succeed). The point is, I was laying my trap. I was lying to Luke and succeeding, a concept that ran contrary to everything I’d ever been taught.

  As I stood at the window watching Luke pull down the driveway last night, his headlights illuminating the bare trees until the only evidence the hottest guy in school was ever here at all were the two red taillights fading into the distance, I’d felt the initial shock that came from doing something so completely out of character. Then there was a sort of euphoria I hadn’t expected. I felt like all the rules that once applied to me didn’t apply anymore. It was like the first time you realize you won’t get hit by a car if you cross the street, and then before you know it you’re on the other side looking back, wondering why you hadn’t tried it sooner.

  While I could hold my mother responsible for a lot of things, including my inability to stand in the express checkout line if I had more than ten items, this was definitely something she didn’t teach me. How to lie and get away with it. How to fool someone on purpose. How not to care what someone thinks of me. But it was all a means to an end, and I knew even if my mother wouldn’t approve of my method, she’d applaud the outcome. When it was all over, Luke would be a better person, and who could argue with that?

  “You know what you have to do next, don’t you?” Josie asked, picking at the muffin I’d given her and taking a bite.

  I shook my head.

  “Matt, Owen, and Luke are all going to Killington over spring break with Owen’s family. I’ll ask my parents if you and Lucy can come up to the ski house with us, and we’ll meet them up there.”

  “But you hate to ski,” I pointed out, as if it mattered. In addition to the palatial house in Branford and the four-thousand-square-foot “cottage” on Cape Cod, Josie’s family also now owned a slope-side ski chalet in Vermont. Not that she cared. Josie was about as fond of skiing as she was of horses and dogs.

  Josie shrugged. “It’s for the cause.”

  “That’s a brilliant idea,” Lucy agreed, which didn’t surprise me. She was the type of skier who actually scanned the trail maps looking for black diamonds.

  “Do you think they’ll let us come with you?” I asked.

  “Come on, we have five bedrooms, a hot tub, and ski-in/ski-out access to Killington Mountain—and my mom can barely snow-plow! She’ll be thrilled at least somebody knows what they’re doing.”

  “I’m in.” Lucy turned to me. “Do you think your parents will let you go?”

  It wasn’t my parents I had to convince. It was just my mom, and I couldn’t see why she wouldn’t let me go away with Josie’s family. As long as I brought an appropriate gift for the hostess.

  “I don’t see why not,” I told them. “Count me in, too.”

  Phase two of our plan was in place and Lucy seemed satisfied. “You want anything? I’m going to get another hot chocolate.”

  Josie and I shook our heads and watched in silence as Lucy went up to the counter.

  I felt like I should say something about Luke, but I didn’t know what was appropriate for this situation.

  Josie intently stirred her Frappuccino with a straw, not looking up at me. “So, did you think he was good?”

  I just about swallowed my tongue. “Excuse me?”

  “Did you think he was good?” she repeated.

  Was he good? How was I supposed to answer that? Give the contestant from Heywood and eight for fresh breath, but add that his saliva content could use improvement?

  “Who?” I asked, buying myself time.

  Josie rolled her eyes at me.

  “You know, it happened so fast I don’t even remember.” Josie seemed to know I was lying and it occurred to me that maybe her ski trip idea wasn’t so great after all. “Are you sure you want to take us skiing?”

  “Of course!”

  “I meant, are you sure you want to take us up to Killington and meet up with the guys?” She knew I really meant Luke.

  “Absolutely.” Josie stopped stirring her drink and looked up at me. “I know you’re just doing what we asked you to do. It’s not your fault.”

  I knew she meant it, but it didn’t really help. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t forget you have to write down what happened in the guide,” Josie reminded me, just in case I wasn’t fully aware of my pending journalistic duties. “Do you think that Luke can really change?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think he’ll ever apologize for the way he broke up with me?” she continued.

  “Maybe. I hope so.”

  Even though my answer wasn’t a resounding endorsement of Luke’s ability to change, it seemed to make Josie feel better. “Me, too. And who knows, maybe we’ll even get back together once he gets his act straightened out.”

  Josie couldn’t be serious. “You’d actually get back together with him after what he did to you?”

  “Maybe,” she offered. “I mean, if he’d really changed.”

  I couldn’t say I’d be as forgiving as Josie, but then again, who knew what would happen if Sean showed up on my doorstep a changed man. “Well, I promise I’ll do my best to help.”

  Josie smiled at me. “I know you will.”

  “You know, he didn’t even stay at Curtis’s that long last night,” she added.

  Huh? “Wait a minute, Luke went to the party after he came to see me?”

  “Yeah. Lucy was a little bummed because Luke showed up and Owen left with him about ten minutes later.” Josie nodded her head toward the register, where Lucy was paying for her order. “What do you think is going on with those two?”

  “Who?”

  “Lucy and Owen.”

  “Nothing!” Josie had to be kidding. There was no way anything was going on with them. Lucy would pick twenty minutes of wind sprints in the gym over hanging out with a guy. “There’s just no way. Besides, she swore them off—not that she needed to. The Lucy I know has no interest in Owen or any other guy, for that matter.”

  Josie shrugged. “Still, she was pretty bummed when he left last night.”

  “I didn’t know Luke was going to Curtis’s party,” I admitted, feeling slightly foolish. Of course he went to the party. How could I have been so dense?

  Josie laughed. “You didn’t expect him to go straight home, crawl into bed, and spend the rest of the night dreaming about you, did you?”

  Yeah, I kinda did.

  When they dropped me off at home, I did as I was told (surprise!), only I decided to add my own little twist. I went to my room and took the brown notebook out of my night table drawer and prepared to write about last night. I’d gone from sitting at a Valentine’s Day dance waiting for a guy to show up to having him blow off a party so he could see me (at least he blew off the first hour of the party, and that had to count for something, right?). As I started to chronicle our conversation and the kiss—the second one, of course—it became obvious that the Guy Don’ts we’d come up with were really just the beginning. The true benefit of the guide would come from seeing Luke’s transformation—from seeing how I could transform Luke. It was the difference between the concept of changing a person and the reality. The difference between the theoretical and the tangible. The Luke we started out with and the Luke we hoped he’d become.

  This was so much more than just The Guy’s Guide to Girls or a Handbook for the Clueless. It was documentation, an owner’s manual, so to speak. So I took my black permanent Sharpie, crossed out the title Josie had written across the cover of the notebook and wrote in a new title in capital letters, a title that genuinely reflected what was going to be written on the spiral-bound notebook pages. It was no longer just a guide, it was THE BOOK OF LUKE.

  As I rep
laced the cap on the marker and sat there admiring my handiwork, there was a knock at my door. “What are you doing?” my mom asked, coming into my room and taking a seat at the foot of my bed. “Homework?”

  “You could say that,” I answered.

  “Well, you certainly looked like you were concentrating when I came in.” She tried to get a glimpse at my work, but I’d turned the notebook over on my bedspread so only the plain brown cardboard backing showed.

  “It’s just something I’m trying to learn.”

  “Anything I can help with?” She looked hopeful.

  I was about to say no when I decided that maybe she could help me with something after all. “Maybe. I have a question: If one of your readers wrote to you and asked how they could get someone to change undesirable behavior, how would you tell them to do that without making it too obvious?”

  My mom let out a long breath and tipped her head to the side, like she does before answering audience questions at her seminars. “I think I know why you’re asking me this.”

  I instantly froze and my fingers gripped the edge of the notebook. “You do?”

  “I do. And that’s part of the reason I wanted to talk to you.”

  This was it. This was when she told me that what I was doing was cruel and despicable. That I wasn’t just an affront to decent people everywhere, I was a professional liability, as well. Who’d attend seminars and buy books from a woman offering advice even her own child didn’t follow? I braced myself and tried to think of an explanation before she even started in on me.

  “Just because your dad is a little confused at the moment doesn’t mean he feels any differently about you. He still loves you.”

  “Dad?” She thought I was talking about my dad?

  “Besides, he misses you terribly and wishes you’d call him and talk to him more often,” she continued, like she’d rehearsed this conversation in her head a million times, which she probably had. “In fact, he’d really like you and TJ to go out to Chicago and visit him for spring break.”