Maggie struggled with the seatbelt as he hopped out and raced around to the shoulder of the road where there was a ditch. She could hear the sound again, the roar. It was a nasty sound. And as her hands tried to hurry, they trembled with adrenaline. The cab of the truck was trembling too. She was alone.
The belt finally let go with a snap as her door swung open.
“Margaret!” Tommy yelled, out of breath. He grabbed her arm and pulled as she scrambled out, slipping on the incline and sliding in the mud down into the ditch. He kept dragging her towards the wooded area, the deeper part of the ditch. They lay, bellies flat on the ground, rain falling on them. He threw himself somewhat over her, too.
There was a loud moment of chaos around them where their heartbeats and shaking gasps were very close together. They felt the rain pelting them, wind and debris stinging.
It only touched down for less than one minute, a small twister, one of those that sometimes follow a bigger storm.
Then, it was over. And they were in a ditch, laying on each other in the mud. It was so quiet again.
Tommy quickly crawled off her and stood to look around and gauge the situation. She sat there, panting, trying to compose herself, hearing their heavy breathing and the patter of soft rain. She listened to it for a moment, feeling herself calming.
But she could feel adrenaline flooding her again as it dawned on her body that she had survived and her mind slowly realized that mud was seeping through her pants. She didn’t know why she was shaking when she began to get up. The sight of her own hand unsteady made her sick.
He noticed too and reached out unconsciously to help her.
“You okay?” he asked.
She didn’t respond right away as she allowed him to lead her to the truck. She wanted to get out of there. He drove quickly to his house, as if it could save them.
No one was home when they pulled into his driveway, next to a very green lawn with a basketball hoop in the drive. The house was big and boxy, wooden with a green tin roof. It sat on a corner of a regular neighborhood with a tall cedar tree in the front yard. She kind of liked it.
“Home sweet home,” he said, switching off the ignition.
“It’s nice.” It had a warm feeling. Maybe it was the way the windows let out a yellow glow from inside, or the carefully cared-for little purple flowers on the porch. It was unassuming, all-American. She could practically smell the apple pie just looking at it. “I get why you’ve never left.”
He stared at her for a moment, just stared. She couldn’t read it. Then, he got out and she followed him to the door, met by, as if she should not have guessed, an old golden retriever.
“Hey, Sammy.” He patted the dog’s smiling, greying head as he unlocked the door. She didn’t need to ask if he was friendly. She petted his soft head to his great amusement. He then seemed satisfied enough to trot over and lie back down on his spot on the porch as they went inside.
Tommy’s house smelled nice. Like detergent and real cooking and people. It smelled homey. She smiled, following him into a cute, cluttered kitchen, leaving their boots at the door.
He went automatically to the refrigerator and took out a drink, taking a long swig. “Would you like something?”
“Water’s fine.” Her throat was parched. “I can’t call until my mom gets off,” she admitted as he handed her the glass.
“That’s fine.” He smiled. “I mean, we survived a twister together. I think we can be friends now that I actually know your name,” he joked. His voice was low again, she noticed, and he was standing close enough that she could smell him.
“Yeah, I guess so.” He smelled good.
“You guess? Oh, I see,” he teased. “Got some other friends to go hang out with?”
“No,” she laughed. “Jerk. But I think Mr. Garrett liked me.” She winked.
“Oh.” He raised his eyebrows, playing along. “Becca liked you. She doesn’t like everybody.”
“Penderghast did not.”
“Well, she hates everyone.”
“Yeah, I thought that.”
A phone rang behind her. She was surprised when she started; she was not usually a jumpy sort of person. She reached for it and handed it to Tommy. Even though she was not trying, their fingers brushed. They noticed, made half a second of eye contact. She prayed he did not think she was flirting.
He answered the call. “Hey. Yeah. No, I’m fine. I swear.”
She turned to give him privacy, looking at the pictures on the wall. There was a cute one of some little kids in front of a Christmas tree. A prom picture. Looked like Tommy with shorter hair and a girl who was pretty, with a big straight sort of smile. Amanda, maybe?
“No. He’s not here yet. I’m sure.” Tommy continued talking behind her. “Brought a friend over, new kid. Okay, see you then. Love you too.”
He was looking at her with concern, forcing her to look down at herself. “You are soaked.”
“Oh. Crap.” Every inch of her clothes was clinging to her, and she had left a small puddle on his kitchen floor.
“You wanna wear something of mine so I can dry those for you?”
“You don’t have to do that.” She was quick to back up as if he might yank them away.
He cocked his head, giving her a critical eye. “So you can sit there uncomfortable until your mom is off and get mud all in the house? Come on. I won’t look,” he jibbed, leading her upstairs.
She followed, pretty uncomfortable. When they stopped at his room at the top of the stairs, she was going to refuse again, but he pulled out the most comfortable looking sweatpants on the face of the planet. They were the ugly, grey kind that reminded her of loosely wrapping her legs in baby goose feathers. She caved.
“Thanks so much.”
“No problem.”
“I’m not usually like this.”
“Like what?” He gave her a Wilbur What’s Its t-shirt and a quizzical look.
“You know, in need of help.” She shrugged.
“No kidding. It’s been a hell of a day. I don’t mind, really. Give me something to do, something else to think about.” He let out a little sigh, crossing his arms “Besides, you’d do the same thing if I were the new kid with terrible luck.”
She made a face. “I don’t think you’d fit in my pants.”
“True.” He laughed, walked to the door and shut it. “Just bring them down when you’re changed.”
“Okay.”
She wouldn’t remember walking towards his bed. She couldn’t even be sure later if she was headed toward it or the window along its side. She couldn’t be sure if she changed before it happened. She would remember the wooden bedroom door shutting, the sound of her saying okay, turning slowly, and then it was dark.
Chapter Three
Very Wrong
Maggie woke to the sound of voices in the house. She didn’t know what was going on, didn’t remember going to sleep. When she realized she was waking up, though, she wasn’t the type to be confused about where she was. She wasn’t that lucky. She was dreadfully aware she was lying in the plain, comfortable bed of all-American, pretty-eyed Tommy, who she only met hours ago.
And she was wearing his pants.
At least she was alone. She looked around for her clothes, but once again, fate was not on her side. They were apparently still in the dryer. So she looked instead for a clock; it read 5:30. It was hard to tell if that was AM or PM, so she looked outside. The sun was already setting.
Mags sighed. She now had to open the door,go out into a house she didn’t know, and introduce herself to Tommy’s entire family for the first time. In his pants.
She sat on the edge of the bed for second and thought hard. She counted up all her past first days. Today was number 13. No joke.
There had been rough first days before. There was the one where she couldn’t speak the language and went the whole day in a very crowded place, feeling totally alone and getting more lost than usual since she couldn’t read the signs. Once, she had copie
d what everyone else was doing in the lunch line and ordered food that made her so sick she had to go home while everyone laughed at her. She was able to laugh about it later, too. When she was very young, she remembered missing her bus in the afternoon and panicking. Another time, she got punched in the face by the school bully as more or less of an introduction.
But after giving it some serious thought, she had to admit that today, between the meltdown in front of the hot guy, the haunted locker, the tornado, her muddy pants, and sleeping in a strange man’s bed, this first day had to absolutely take the cake as the worst first day she’d ever had.
As she turned again toward the window, she willed the sun to sink faster. This day had to end. Soon.
If I can make it through a natural disaster, I can make it through this embarrassing moment, she told herself. Gathering her courage and forbidding her eyes from even thinking of dropping a tear in humiliation, she took a deep breath and swung open the door.
She hit someone in the face.
“Whoa.” The voice was young and male, its body stumbling over to avoid collision.
“Sorry! Sorry, sorry.” She reached forward to steady his elbows, but when Tommy straightened, he wasn’t quite like Tommy. She blinked sleepily as he stared back at her in total surprise.
He looked like Tommy, a lot like Tommy actually, but he was taller and broader, a brawny version of Tommy. Same exact hair. She was groggy, surveying the face for signs of familiarity—after all, she had just met Tommy’s face— and thankfully, he was bringing his face really close. There was a faint trickle of blood there just under his nose.
It happened very quickly.
There was an arm around her back, and he was kissing her. It wasn’t a bad kiss. Not at all. He had her held at just the right angle, so she couldn’t help but feel a little thrill of surprise and excitement. She had wanted to kiss Tommy, even if she hadn’t thought of actually doing it yet. Problem was, she was not kissing Tommy.
She tried to pull away, but he pressed his lips harder on hers. She wriggled.
Tommy’s voice shot down the hallway from her left. The Tommy lookalike let her go and made a quick getaway to the nearby carpeted stairs.
“What the hell, Tyler?” The real Tommy growled, approaching with his fists clenched at his sides. He stopped in front of her, staring down the other guy. His brother. Obviously. She stood there with her hand over her open mouth, watching the exchange.
Tyler laughed. “Chill out man. It’s no big deal.”
“You just shoved your tongue down her throat.”
“Barely any tongue at all. First kiss. What do you care?” Her mind was going fast: was Tommy jealous? Had he wanted to kiss her first or at least not wanted someone else to do it?
“You don’t even know her. You didn’t ask. You can’t just force yourself on people assuming they’ll want you.”
“Look,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. “It caught me off guard. You didn’t say she was hot,” he laughed. Well, there went the idea that Tommy was into her. “I thought she wanted it, so I leaned in first. She didn’t lean away. That’s the universal signal. What do you want me to do? Ask, ‘Hi, I’m Tyler. May I kiss you?’ Come on, man! You’ve been outta the game too long.”
“What did you say?” She could barely hear him, but Tommy’s voice was dangerously low.
Tyler realized his misstep, stopping short with eyes wide and quickly adding, “You know what I mean. Come on, no harm done. She’s not exactly shy.” He winked at her. “She came out of your room in your clothes.” Great. Her eyes felt about a hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Maybe steam would come out instead of tears.
“Hers were ruined. She’s had a bad day, Tyler.”
He looked to her, seeming less like a Tommy-looking monster then. He offered softly, “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. You looked amazing. I didn’t think.” She nodded, unable to speak. He turned back to his brother. “Girls like to be kissed. It’s like a compliment.”
“Just shut up and get out of here.” Tommy exhaled, crossing his arms.
Tyler shrugged, starting down the stairs again. “Staying for dinner?” he asked her.
“Her name is Margaret,” Tommy told his brother, then turned to look at her expectantly. They both waited for her answer.
“I should probably go,” she blurted, heading to the stairs and hurrying past Tyler. What was she going to say at dinner? Hi. I’m Maggie. I’m wearing Tommy’s clothes and I just kissed Tyler. Nice family you have here. Nice bed too.
“Oh come on, Mags. Stay. Have dinner.” Tyler draped a muscular arm over her shoulder. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”
She blushed, looking away.
“Leave her alone,” Tommy said. “She doesn’t have to stay if you made her uncomfortable. Want me to take you home?”
He seemed to be ready to take her, and though she wasn’t sure if it was to get away from his brother or get rid of her, she nodded, offering Tyler a polite smile. “Maybe another time.”
“Yeah, maybe I could take you to dinner.” He didn’t get to make his next smooth gesture, though, because he tripped down the last two steps. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she could have sworn the still-frowning Tommy had tripped his sibling on purpose.
“Hi, there! You must be Tommy’s friend.” A smiling face a few inches taller than Maggie’s met them at the foot of the stairs. A thin face, with neat blonde hair and perfect teeth, probably in her thirties. She was beautiful.
“Yeah, I’m Margaret. I—my clothes were ruined and T—” she began to explain.
“Oh, I know all about that.” She shook her head dismissively, still smiling. “Tommy told me.” Maggie breathed a sigh of relief that the expected awkward conversation had been avoided. “Sounds like an awful first day,” the woman she assumed was Tommy and Tyler’s mom said sympathetically.
“I’ve had better.”
“Move a lot? I can relate to that. Air force brat here. Your dad in the military? Or mom?”
She shook her head and was about to reply when Tommy reappeared at her side, carrying her stuff. “Mom, Maggie wants to go home, okay?”
“Of course. Your parents know you’re okay?”
Maggie looked down at the phone she had been handed. A text from her mom read, Glad ur okay. Saw no casualties on the news. Will be home around 8.-Mom.
Well, it was something. She fought the desire to roll her eyes. “She knows,” she answered simply.
All suspicions that Tommy’s mom was first-class at mothering were confirmed.
“She off yet?”
Maggie shook her head slowly, seeing where this was going. “No. She gets off late.”
“And it’s just you two?”
She nodded.
“Well, then you have to stay for dinner,” she announced cheerfully.
“Alright!” Tommy smiled, slipping past her into the kitchen to steal some food before dinner.
“My husband will be late coming in too, so the boys and I usually just go ahead and eat.”
“I really don’t need to, ma’am. Tommy wanted to take me home, and I can just heat something up there.”
“Well, I guess you could.” She smiled, lifting a strand of Maggie’s hair and brushing it softly in her manicured fingers. “But do you really want to end a rough day at home alone with a microwavable meal or with some homemade pie?”
“Pie?” She couldn’t help but raise her voice and one eyebrow.
“Well,” Tommy smiled reluctantly, “It would be wrong to let you miss out on that.”
“You sure?” she asked, directing the question at just him.
“Of course.” He stared at her again, like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing, and she couldn’t figure out why.
Dinner was warm. The pie was amazing. Tyler wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t kissing her. Well, to be fair, he wasn’t so bad at kissing her either, but she tried not to think about that. The meal was over pretty quickly. Tommy’s mom, Mrs. Latchley, refused to let her hel
p with dishes, so Maggie changed back into her clothes and wished them goodnight, Sammy included, as he came in for the evening to keep the lady of the house company.
“I didn’t mean to move in or anything,” Maggie started once she and Tommy were alone in his truck. “I feel awful, you just offered me a ride and then—”
“Really? You feel awful? I had a pretty good time.” He started the truck.
“Thanks. It was nice to eat food with real smells and that isn’t prepared with something that beeps.” She sighed, falling back into her seat, relaxed.
He laughed.
“Does your dad work late? What does he do?” she asked him, making conversation.
Tommy shifted. “He’s a cop, but what she meant was he doesn’t get in because he goes to the bar after.”
“Oh.”
“What about your dad?”
“I don’t see him very much,” she lied. She didn’t see him at all.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Sounds like you don’t, either.”
The roads were clear then, and soon there was Mulberry Street. She sat up in her seat, looking for something familiar. It took a minute. “It’s that one.”
She pointed to the white and light green millhouse. Yes, there was the mailbox and picture window. It looked cute enough outside, but inside it was still full of boxes. It still smelled like the fresh coat of paint, courtesy of the previous owners’ attempts to make it look newer. It didn’t smell like laundry and pie. There wasn’t a dog or anybody else. It was empty.
This time her seatbelt came out easy, she noticed with resentment. “See you tomorrow. Thanks again, Tommy.”
“Anytime.” Something seemed to suddenly occur to him as she got out. He called after her, “Hey, do you need a ride tomorrow?”
“Uh, no. My mom will drop me off or I’ll take the bus.”
“I can drive you.”
“Across town? No way.”
“It’s such a long distance,” he said sarcastically. “It’s too quiet in the morning anyway.”
She shrugged. “If you want.”
“I’ll be here at 7:30.” He pulled the truck door shut. “Have a good night.”
Keep Your Friends Close Page 3