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here.”
I step hesitantly into the forbidden realm, trying not
to look around, though I can’t help it somewhat. Dirty
laundry and paper clutter the room. Well, I think, if
you don’t let Cinderella into the castle, she can’t
clean it up for you.
She puts on a button-up blouse with a wraparound
skirt, which I help her tie. She sits while I use the
blow dryer to dry her hair. She wants me to put hot
rollers in for her, but the close contact with her
makes me a nervous wreck, and I keep dropping
them. Finally she swats my hands away.
“You’re useless,” she tells me. “Go…clean the
kitchen or something. Try to make yourself useful.”
I don’t wait to see if she’s going to change her
speaking that sentence aloud. Instead, I say, “What
mind, having been handed this reprieve. I go to do
what she commands, cleaning quickly but thoroughly
so that she won’t be able to find immediate fault.
When my dad pulls into the driveway, my stomach
begins convulsing again. He hasn’t been home this
early for as long as I can remember. For the most
part, it feels as if no one lives here but my mother
and me.
He comes in, glancing at me but ignoring me as
completely as if I were invisible. I hear the shower
come on again and a few minutes later they both
emerge from their room, looking for all the world like
any other married couple going out to dinner. I’m
sure my mouth is hanging open.
“Finish up your chores, then go to bed,” is all the
instruction or information I get as they walk out the
front door. I walk into the living room, watching them
through the window as they climb into dad’s beat up
old car and pull out of the driveway. It’s not until they
pull away that I realize what this means for me.
I’m going to a football game.
I finish my chores in record time. There isn’t much
I can do about myself besides run a brush through
my hair, and pull the least trashed shirt that I have out
of the five that I do own. Afraid they’ll come back
early and stop me, I run down the street and around
the corner—and nearly barrel Henry over.
He catches me by the arms, taking the weight of
us both against a telephone pole, managing to keep
us from sprawling on the sidewalk. Embarrassment
floods me as he sets me back from him.
“In a hurry?” he asks with a grin.
“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be here yet.”
Confusion flits across his features.
“Then why the hurry? Were you trying to come and
go before I arrived?”
Surprised at the way his mind works, that he
would think I would be trying to avoid him, I shake my
head.
“Of course not. It would have been nice to be the
first one here, though. No matter how early I leave my
house, you always beat me here.” Not a lie, just a
different truth.
He laughs. “Sorry. It must seem like I’m some
weird stalker or something, just sitting here waiting
for you to happen by.”
I shrug. “I don’t mind. It’s kind of nice to have
someone waiting for me.”
He cocks his head, dark eyes intense.
“Well, those who aren’t waiting for you don’t know
what they’re missing.”
My breath catches in my throat. It almost sounds
like he’s flirting. I shake my head and give a (nearly)
silent guffaw; that’s foolish. He’s just being his usual
gentlemanly self as his mother taught him, the same
as when he carries my books or tray, pulls out my
chair at lunch, opens my car door. His steady gaze
hasn’t softened, watching me as if expecting
something, a response or reaction. I have none
because I don’t know how to respond to this kind of
teasing.
“So,” I say, sweeping my hand toward the car,
averting my eyes from his, “are you going to open my
door or do I have to do it myself and tell your mom on
you?”
He chuckles, the spell broken, striding over to the
car. He opens the door, bows with a flourish and
sweeps his hand toward the car. I smile shyly as I
pass him.
We arrive at the high school well before the game
starts, but the parking lot is already crawling with
students. There are students here not only from our
school but also from Jefferson. There’s a lot of good
natured taunting going on, but the police officers
walking around give the impression that it could turn
into more. Henry comes around and opens my door,
of course, calling greetings to some of his friends. I
recognize a few who sit with us at lunch, and I wave
back, surprised, when they call out a hello to me.
We head toward the entrance to the field. I see a
couple of the girls who are on the Spirit Squad sitting
at a table, checking student ID’s or taking money for
tickets. They both gape when they see me walking
up to the table. Their eyes nearly bug out of their
heads when Henry grabs my hand, twining his
fingers with mine and pulling me to him, making it
obvious that I’m with him.
“Hey Celia, Amber. How you guys doing?” Henry
says. I might have smiled as I watch Celia pull off two
tickets and hand them to Henry without asking for his
student ID, her eyes darting back and forth between
us, except that I’m beginning to feel like this is a
mistake; I should have stayed away as I always have.
A cold pit forms in my stomach.
starts, but the parking lot is already crawling with
Henry doesn’t let go of my hand, keeping me
firmly by his side as we enter the gate, giving his
tickets to yet another Spirit Squad girl who gapes as
openly as the first two. He just keeps on smiling,
greeting everyone, acting as if there isn’t anything
unusual about being there with the schools biggest
loser.
There’s a feeling of heightened excitement inside
the stadium, students milling about everywhere.
Students, parents and school faculty are all dressed
in their own school colors depending on which team
they’re here to support. Even Henry is wearing our
school colors. I look down at my yellow shirt which
represents neither. Appropriate somehow; an island
unto myself.
I’m very conscious of the feel of his hand pressed
against mine. I know this isn’t a date, just friends
hanging out. Knowing that doesn’t change the
speeding of my heart—I haven’t had my hand held
since...well, since I held hands with Henry in sixth
grade. We walk over to the stands, teeming with a
writhing mass of over-excited humanity and I’m
doubly glad he’s holding onto me, because it would
be a simple thing to get lost in all these people.
He pulls me behind him up the bleachers in a
place where there doesn’t seem to be a path, and
finds us seats among a group of kids who I know by
name, several of whom have been my tormentors at
one time or another in the past. He high-fives the
guys, says hi to the girls and I stand behind him,
wishing that a big hole will open beneath and
swallow me up. I keep my head down, even as Henry
brings me in front of him, letting go of my hand and
placing both hands on my shoulders.
“You guys all know Kate, right?” he asks with a
cheerful,
positive
tone,
shaming
them
into
acknowledging me and saying hello. I peek up at
each face, nodding slightly in reply, seeing they’re
clearly as uncomfortable as me, the knowledge of
our histories between us, only Henry unaware.
Though it doesn’t seem as if there’s room for one
more person where we stand, Ian and Kaden, our
lunch companions, push their way in and start a loud,
laughing banter with Henry and the others standing
here. I’m thankful for their exuberance since it takes
the edgy focus off of me. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]