The Book of Luke

by Jenny O'Connell

  And I sat there for another hour.

  Nine o’clock: Still no call. That little part of me that actually thought I wanted to talk to him? Well, it’s gone. At this point all I could think about was how I wanted to bitch him out tomorrow morning at school, to tell him he was not only obnoxious and full of himself, but that he was unreliable to boot. But somehow I didn’t think that he’d find “unreliable” to be some huge put-down (although my mother would rank reliability right up there with excusing yourself from the dinner table as one of the top ten cardinal rules of good manners).

  Ten o’clock: No call. Nada. Nothing. Complete silence. After six hours it was time to give up and admit that Luke wasn’t going to call.

  Before going to bed, I called Lucy and Josie to give them an update. Josie conferenced us all in on her digital phone system. “He didn’t call.”

  “God, he sure isn’t making this easy for you.”

  “I will persevere,” I assured them, thinking that I’d been really dumb to let Luke lull me into a false sense of security. Maybe this was what he did with every girl. Damn, he was good. That whole Friendly’s thing, it was probably something he did with all his conquests, the only thing that varied was the location—Friendly’s, Pizzeria Uno, Burger King. It didn’t matter. “Don’t worry. There’s only going to be one winner when we’re done. And that will be me.”

  “Well, don’t forget the other winners,” Lucy reminded me. “All the girls who’ll have the guide when they open up the time capsule.”

  “Yeah, sure. I meant them, too.”

  But I didn’t. This wasn’t about them. This was between me and Luke. Tomorrow morning I wasn’t just going to persevere. I was going to succeed.

  I’d let my guard down and Luke had weakened me. And all it took was a freaking Fribble. God, I was easy. No Chinese water torture, no bamboo shoots up my fingernails, just a thick chocolate shake and my resolve took a backseat to my stomach.

  I’d let Luke wear me down. And I wasn’t letting him do that again.

  “I thought you were going to call last night.” I was waiting for Luke when he walked through the front door before homeroom.

  But instead of feeling ambushed and making a run for the music room, Luke smiled. He smiled! Like a smile was going to get him out of this.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. Coach had a meeting for the lacrosse team after school and I ended up getting home later than I thought and I still had to study for the calc test.”

  It was a completely plausible excuse, but it was still an excuse. There was still plenty of time to pick up the phone and make a call. There was still plenty of time to call me.

  But I couldn’t point that out. I didn’t tell him that I’d sat by the phone waiting for it to ring. Because that was what he probably expected. Luke probably thought every girl would wait by the phone hoping he’d call. So, instead, I did the opposite.

  I changed my tactic. “It’s no big deal.” I actually managed to sound like I meant it.

  Luke turned to me, looking more than a little skeptical. “It’s no big deal?”

  I almost got the feeling he was testing me to see if I’d flip out, like he expected. Like most girls would. He was probably waiting for me to bring up our conversation at the Brock’s, but I wasn’t going to do that. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of turning me into a bundle of insecurities like he expected.

  If he could lull me into a false sense of security, then I could do the same thing to him.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I repeated, trying to make it look like I was smiling instead of gritting my teeth. “Like I said, it’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal, my ass,” Josie spat when I told her about his lame excuse. We were hanging out in the dark room during lunch, one of the few places we could talk without worrying about someone hearing us. Lucy and I watched as Josie dipped rubber-tipped tongs into a tray of liquid and swished it around until a black-and-white image started to appear. “Are we kidding ourselves thinking we can change him?” She looked up at me and the red light gave her hair an orange glow.

  “I don’t think so. There are times I actually believe he’s getting better.” I thought about our lunch at Friendly’s and how Luke had taken me to my old house. He’d displayed such promise, so much, in fact, that I’d believed him when he said he’d call. It was the relationship equivalent of getting sucker punched.

  “Well, he sure had me convinced—and so did you. Check these out,” Josie told us, reaching over into a pile of glossy photo paper and spreading out a handful of black-and-white pictures like she was dealing a hand of cards. “You actually look like you’re enjoying yourself!”

  I reached for one of the five-by-seven glossy photos and almost stopped breathing when I realized what I had in my hand. They were pictures all right, but they weren’t just random snapshots of arbitrary subjects. They were pictures of me making out with Luke in the front seat of his car.

  This time I’d been ambushed.

  Lucy looked over my shoulder. “Wow, you really do look like you’re having fun.” She patted me on the back, impressed. “You’re pretty good at this.”

  “How’d you even know I was there?” Josie lifted a fully developed photograph out of the tray and hung it on the clothesline strung across the room. “I tried to make sure Luke didn’t see me, but then when I saw you lean over and kiss him, I knew you knew I was there.”

  “Yeah, well, I figured as long as we had an audience…” I let my voice trail off because I didn’t know what else to say. That I’d had no idea she was there? That I hadn’t kissed Luke to show her our plan was working, I’d kissed him because—I couldn’t even think it. The idea was too mortifying. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to check in on us?”

  “I didn’t plan it, or anything. I just went down to my car to get my camera and I saw you two sitting there in his front seat. Until I saw you I hadn’t even thought about it, but then it made perfect sense. I think your idea is brilliant!”

  My idea? What idea? To make out with Luke and confirm that he’s a great kisser? “You do?”

  “Yeah, including photos in the guide will prove it works.”

  “That is a good idea,” Lucy agreed. “Boy, you’re really getting into this guide thing, aren’t you?”

  I shrugged, not feeling like I was getting into the guide so much as I was getting into the subject matter.

  Lucy sorted through the stack of photos—me and Luke close up, farther away, moving together, kissing, and then pulling apart. She handed the stack to me and I quickly sorted through each sheet. It was like one of those flip books; if I went through the pictures fast enough it almost became a movie, only it had gone from a romantic comedy to a horror flick.

  Look at me! Lucy was right. I did look like I was having fun. And why? Because I was! I was a traitor to my own cause.

  Could we look any more oblivious in the pictures? I mean, Josie couldn’t have been more than ten feet away snapping away on her camera and we didn’t even notice her. She was a good photographer, but it wasn’t like Josie was a seasoned paparazzo or anything. At the very least we should have seen her when we came up for air.

  “When I was in the girls’ room yesterday I overheard two girls talking about me and Luke,” I told them.

  Josie and Lucy looked over at me. “What’d they say? Do they know what we’re up to?”

  “Quite the opposite,” I answered. “They said they were afraid I was going to get hurt. Like Luke would break my heart or something.”

  “That’s crazy.” Josie frowned. “Besides, if that was really the case, why would Lucy and I let you do this? We’re your best friends, we wouldn’t let that happen.”

  “Yeah,” Lucy agreed. “We’d never knowingly let you get your feelings crushed.”

  I pulled out the last photograph. It was a close-up of Luke and me just after we pulled away from our kiss. Luke looked so genuine. Not like someone who was playing a game with me. Then again, I was looki
ng pretty genuine, too. And I was supposed to be playing a game. Only now I didn’t know what I was doing.

  “I know you wouldn’t.” I turned the entire stack of pictures facedown and placed them on the counter. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

  Lucy and Josie nodded. “Right.”

  I stayed clear of Luke for the rest of the day, not because I was giving up, but because I felt like I’d given up any leverage I’d gained over him. I’d let down my guard and in that moment given Luke the upper hand. I needed to get it back, and I thought that, maybe, giving myself a little distance from him would give me that. If nothing else, it would give me a little perspective. Because, if anything, my perspective was definitely becoming skewed.

  Luke must have noticed I was avoiding him (perhaps because every time I spotted him I ducked behind some unsuspecting underclassman and attempted to morph into a shadow), because after the last bell he was waiting for me. And, because he stood directly in front of my locker, it wasn’t like I could pretend I didn’t see him. Or leave school without coming face-to-face with the situation.

  “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked.

  Lucy shut her locker and waited to see what I would say. I waved her away. “You go ahead, I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

  Lucy took off and left me standing there with Luke.

  “So you really don’t care that I didn’t call?” he asked.

  I shook my head and pretended to organize my books. “Not really.”

  “I know I told you I would, but it was late and I had six chapters to catch up on for the calc exam.”

  “I understand.” I thought he’d take his get-out-of-jail-free card and run. Instead he stood there and held my locker door open while I put on my coat. I tossed my backpack over my shoulder and prepared to leave. “Really. I do.”

  “I know I should have called,” he repeated. “It’s just…”

  “I know. The test.”

  “And the lacrosse meeting, don’t forget that,” Luke added, as if he was pleading his case before a judge and wanted to make sure I weighed every piece of evidence.

  “How could I forget?” I answered. He really did seem sincere. Even repentant. Besides, wasn’t I really the one who should be apologizing? For lying to him this entire time. For letting him pay for my Fribble and fries when I had ulterior motives?

  It wasn’t that I felt sorry for Luke—I’m not that much of a softy. I just felt something, even if I wasn’t sure what it was.

  “Okay,” I gave in.

  Luke smiled and let go of my locker door.

  “Can you do me a favor, though? In the future, don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “Promise.” Luke held up two fingers like he was making some sort of Boy Scout oath. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure in sixth grade he went to some sort of Boy Scout training camp where he learned how to tie knots—something I only remember because he’d tied Lucy’s sneakers together while demonstrating some nautical knot and she ended up having to play soccer barefoot that day. “Hey, I hear you’re going up to Josie’s house for winter break.”

  “Yeah. That’s the rumor.” I started to walk away and Luke fell into step next to me.

  “I’m going to be up there with Owen and Matt. We’ll have to make sure we meet up, do a few runs together.”

  “We could do that,” I told him, feeling the upper hand shift in my favor. “I better go meet Lucy, she’s waiting for me.”

  “Okay.” Luke turned to go, but then stopped and looked back at me. “You know, you’re different from Josie.”

  “Oh yeah, how’s that?” I asked, enjoying my regained position of power. I was waiting for Luke to tell me that I was a sparkling conversationalist, that I was an amazing kisser, and that he found me fascinating.

  Instead, he grinned and told me, “You’re taller.”

  And as much as I wanted to tell him he was an asshole, I couldn’t help but laugh. And neither could he.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Guy’s Guide Tip #46:

  People can have nicknames. Body parts should not.

  How do you sum up four days of skiing with a guy who looked better in ski pants than I did, a gondola ride that had me making out at an elevation of 3,840 feet, two hours in a hot tub that left me with pruned fingers, sore lips, and an untied bikini top, and a huge slope-side log cabin that had me sharing a bedroom with two friends who thought I was hating every minute of it?

  I had no idea. But that was my job.

  When Mrs. Holden dropped me off at home after our three-hour ride back from Vermont, the house was dark and it was obvious nobody was around to greet me. TJ wasn’t coming back from Chicago until tomorrow night, and my mom had probably gone over to the Brocks’ house or to the movies.

  “Do you want to come back with us and have dinner?” Mrs.

  Holden offered, obviously feeling bad for the forgotten latchkey kid getting out of her backseat.

  “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. My mom will probably be home soon and I’m tired.”

  As I was about to close the car door, Josie grabbed my arm. “Don’t go to bed without writing in the notebook first,” she whispered. “We don’t want you to forget any of the details.”

  The details. How could I forget the details when they were all I kept thinking about? How Luke reached around my waist to keep me from falling when our gondola jerked forward unexpectedly. How he offered to carry my skies over to the racks when I told him my arms were tired. The look he gave me before we said good night at Josie’s house. No, there was no risk of me forgetting the details. It was the big picture I had trouble with. Because in the big picture, things were going according to plan. Luke was becoming perfect boyfriend material and he had no idea that I was the one manipulating him like a seasoned puppeteer. He was Pinocchio to my Gepetto.

  So when I got up to my room and pulled the notebook out of my desk drawer, I didn’t know what to write. It wasn’t that I’d need to lie to prove that everything was working out the way we wanted, because the truth was, it couldn’t be going better. The problem was, if I wrote about what really happened, if I didn’t leave out the details, it wouldn’t be the story Josie and Lucy—and every other girl reading the guide—was expecting. They say the devil is in the details, and in my case that was certainly true.

  Because the details were fast becoming the most interesting part about Luke and me.

  I’d taken a shower, done a load of laundry, and spent a half hour sitting on my bed trying to forget the fact that I dreaded picking up that damn notebook. Finally, after staring at the empty page for twenty minutes, I started writing.

  Here’s what I wrote:

  Friday Night—Arrived at Josie’s house. Luke called my cell phone (has memorized number, good sign) and made plans to meet me at the mountain in the morning. ‘A’ for effort and planning. Project Luke progressing nicely. Interested to see if he can pull off four days of this.

  Here’s what I didn’t write:

  The week before winter break officially started, I’d undergone meticulous preparation, including a deep-conditioning treatment (to avoid aforementioned static cling and flyaways), a deep-cleansing mud mask (to eliminate aforementioned blackheads on chin), a double application of Crest Whitestrips, and a generous daily slathering of Neutrogena self-tanning mousse. Gave Luke a Post-it with my cell phone number on it. Figured it would stick to the inside of his coat pocket and he couldn’t forget it.

  Here’s what I wrote:

  Saturday Morning—Luke waiting for me by the lift ticket line (keeping promises as promised, our boy is learning!). He looked good in navy blue ski pants, red jacket, and mirrored sunglasses. Owen asked Luke where he was planning to ski, and before answering Luke looked at me. Told him to go ahead and ski Skye Peak with his friends. Made plans to meet us for lunch at K-1 lodge before heading over to the lift.

  Here’s what I didn’t write:

  Josie was color coordinated from the t
ips of her purple Rossignols to the fuzzy lavender headband covering her ears. If she looked like the perfect snow bunny, my black puffy ski pants and rental skis made me look like fashion roadkill. Seeing my reflection in Luke’s mirrored sunglasses didn’t do much to help my ego. Nor did the fact that Luke was obviously an amazing skier and I was trying to remember what I learned in ski school when I was six. The idea of resorting to the snowplow in front of Luke was about as appealing as being carried down the mountain on a stretcher if I attempted to join him on the black diamonds. It seemed safer to just meet him for lunch, where I knew I couldn’t hurt myself and end up in the first aid station.

  Here’s what I wrote:

  Saturday Afternoon—Luke met me at K-1 lodge for lunch, saved table with enough seats for all of us (thinking of others, chalk one up for the boy). Offered to carry my cafeteria tray and even put extra ketchup packets on the table for everyone’s use. Forgot the napkins and straws. Will work on that. Made plans to meet back at the lodge at end of day. Showed up on time. ‘A’ for punctuality.

  Here’s what I didn’t write:

  Extra ketchup packets! I knew nobody else got it, but I did. It was Luke’s little way of paying homage to our inside joke. And I thought it was cute. After that I even offered him a few of my french fries. I figured he’d earned them.

  By three o’clock, when the guys were supposed to meet us at the lodge, Josie, Lucy, and I had already been sitting around for a half hour, our boots unbuckled and our coats off, ready to call it quits.

  “I think I have frostbite. Remind me again why my mom insists we come up here?” Josie asked, rubbing her toes.

  “Perhaps it has something to do with that sweet little chalet you have on the mountain?” I suggested, even though the chalet was anything but little.

  “I think she does it to torture me.” Josie wiggled her toes at us, trying to get the blood going again.