Amanda Vs The Universe

by Patricia B Tighe

  I chuckled. “Sounds like my dad. But what about you? Are you a sports guy?”

  Was that a small flinch? Kyle moved so his back was to me. “I’m a swimmer. Well, I was. I’ve quit the team.”

  “Oh.” Maybe that was what he needed to talk about. “Did something bad happen?”

  “No. I’m just tired of going to practice every morning at six-thirty. I don’t want to spend the rest of high school doing that.”

  He still wasn’t facing me. Seemed like there was more to the story.

  “So, what’s your favorite school subject?” he asked.

  Ah, he didn’t want to talk about himself. I got that. I wasn’t completely comfortable with talking about myself either. How exactly could I answer his question? I didn’t have a favorite subject. I made okay grades, but high school for the last two years had been mostly about guys. That familiar ache burned in my chest. Maybe I was missing something by not getting interested in other things.

  “Amanda?” Kyle watched me, a slight furrow to his brow. “You okay? You kinda blanked out there.”

  I got up from my squat to stretch out my legs. Painful tingles flitted up and down my calves. “Ow. My legs went to sleep.”

  He didn’t say anything, just stood there waiting.

  It was kind of embarrassing, but so what? Kyle’s opinion didn’t worry me. “The problem is I don’t really have a favorite subject, and realizing that kinda weirded me out. I mean, other than interior design, which they don’t have courses in. I’m gonna take art for the next couple of years to see if it helps.”

  “It should.” He rested the extendable end of his paint roller on the ground. “I’m not crazy about a lot of the stuff they make you do in school, except my art classes. I’ve finally decided that if it’s not something I really like, I’m not going to do it.”

  “Are you dropping out of school?”

  He gave a half-hearted laugh. “No. I’ll finish. I’m just not giving in to my dad’s need for me to be a computer wiz. He’s doing the old ‘like father, like son’ thing.”

  “Oh, right. Thank God my parents aren’t pushing me to go to law school. I think they’ve realized how much they’ve given up by having to work such long hours. It’s why they’re so loony.”

  He laughed for real this time. “Are they?”

  “Absolutely.” I told him about all the plays and performances we’d been forced to do over the years, and how my parents never really understood that I was an introvert and didn’t like having to perform. “It’s extra hard because my brother thrives on it, and they assume I’m just like him.”

  “Do they really think that, or are they just wanting to include you?”

  I lifted my shoulders practically up to my ears. “Don’t know. I’m happy to be a part of things, just so long as I’m sitting in the audience.”

  “I get it.” He examined the work I’d done. “How about curving that back toward the middle and I can make my line meet it?”

  “Sure.” I reloaded my paint roller and sent blue paint across an elaborate letter “R.”

  “Your brother brought a girlfriend to family vacation. How come you didn’t bring a boyfriend?”

  The jolt of surprise that went through me caused me to smudge my wide curve of paint. Crap. Had Kyle noticed? He was busy pushing his roller toward the middle of the wall. Maybe he hadn’t. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I said, my voice quiet.

  He looked up. “Cady said you had one.”

  “Keyword: had. I had a boyfriend. I also had a bad breakup a couple of months ago.” Why was I telling him? I wasn’t out for sympathy or ready to turn our painting into a poor pitiful me session.

  “Oh. Sorry. When was this?”

  “Beginning of April.” Wait, wow. It had actually been over three months. I’d been broken up with Alex longer than we were together. So why did it still feel like I had a gaping hole in my chest every time I thought about him?

  “Mine was in February.”

  I went still. “You went through a breakup too?”

  His gaze met mine. “Yep. But I got dumped.”

  “Me too,” I whispered. It was still hard to think about being dumped, much less say it out loud.

  “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  He stared at the ground for a long moment, as though searching for something. “It’s why I’ve put relationships on hold. Who needs the drama?”

  Relationships on hold? What would that be like? Not constantly looking for a person to date once school started? I could get behind that. “You know what? That sounds like a really good idea.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I should probably do that too. Kinda takes the pressure off, right?”

  “That’s true.” He grinned suddenly. “So, I think we need to toast.”

  “What?”

  “Since we have nothing to drink, we’ll use our paint rollers.”

  I hesitated, feeling completely clueless. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  “We’ll bump our rollers like we’re clinking wine glasses. You ready?”

  “Um, sure.”

  “To being dumped!” he said loudly.

  “To being dumped!” I knocked my roller into his and paint splattered everywhere. Well, mostly on Kyle.

  “Oops,” I said, laughing.

  Blue dots ran across his face and faded yellow T-shirt. Even his shoes got sprinkled. “Uh, guess I forgot how much paint was on this roller.”

  “Guess you did.” I couldn’t stop giggling. He just seemed so surprised.

  “Hey, enough laughing. You got hit too.”

  I examined my clothes. There were a few splotches, but nowhere near what was on him. “So much for toasting,” I said, trying to swallow back the laughter.

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re dissing my toast. I think I should add a little more paint to your clothes. It doesn’t seem fair.”

  I jumped back. “Don’t even think about it.”

  He advanced on me, raising his roller like he was about to shake it.

  But Cady’s voice came from the house. “Kids, lunch is ready!”

  Kyle lowered the roller. “To be continued.”

  “Oh, I’m so scared. I’m shaking in my flip-flops.”

  He smirked. “You should be. Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”

  We covered the rollers and paint tray in plastic wrap, then strolled toward the house, not speaking. Right when we reached the door, he shook his head, a smile playing about his mouth. “Yes, Amanda Bryson. You are definitely funny.”

  Twelve

  I took a root beer from our refrigerator, popped the top, and swallowed a gulp. Which resulted in a huge burp. I laughed to myself. When the day had started I wouldn’t have believed that it could turn out so well. And it wasn’t even over!

  Geoff and his friends were outside in back, playing either basketball or badminton. I just finished two good phone calls. Band camp was looking up for Haley, and Gamma still seemed to be feeling better—even with the cough.

  And best of all, Kyle thought I was funny.

  For some reason, knowing that made me want to dance around the room. Not that I would. And I wasn’t crushing on Kyle. But when someone outside the family didn’t automatically label Geoff as “the funny one” and me as “the quiet one,” that was a big deal.

  I wiggle-walked to the pantry and scanned the shelves for a snack. My parents had packed the tiny room with more food than we could possibly eat in two weeks, but now that I looked around at the cookies and trail mixes and chips, I decided I was too happy to eat. In fact, my whole body felt like it was full of the bubbles from my soda. Happiness hadn’t been a part of my worldview in at least three months. Strange that it should be now.

  Oh, and Cady and Kyle were coming over for dinner. My mom’s invite had come during lunch at Cady’s, and she seemed almost relieved not to have to think about planning dinner. Kyle, on the other hand—well, I wasn’t sure wha
t he thought. To judge by his expression, though, he looked like he’d rather remove a hundred wasp nests.

  That was fine. He could be as grumpy as he wanted. I just wanted Cady to be pampered for a change. I needed to find a good pillow for her foot.

  I left the pantry, sipping my drink as I went. Voices came from the hallway. I froze. My parents were having an argument.

  “Think of it as a trial run,” Mom said in a low voice.

  I grabbed one of Molly’s art magazines from the table and opened it on the kitchen island. I needed to look like I wasn’t listening if they made it into the kitchen. And they’d see me if I tried a sneaky exit to the stairs. Besides, I wanted to hear this conversation.

  “A trial run,” Dad repeated.

  “Yes,” she said. “For the event.”

  “What do you mean? Burgers on the grill won’t be anything like the event.”

  I strained to hear them. Did that mean the big event would be formal?

  “I want to see how they fit in with the rest of us,” Mom said. “I don’t know Cady’s nephew at all, and it’s important to have the right dynamic for the event to work.”

  “Oh.” There came a five-second pause. “You could have at least told me. I was looking forward to no company.”

  Mom let out a scoffing noise. “Geoff’s friends aren’t company?”

  “Need I remind you that Kenzie is our niece? And as for the rest of them, they’re family. You know they are. They’ve been involved with us for years.”

  She said something I couldn’t hear. And then, “I’m sorry. I should’ve texted you. It was a split-second decision and I wanted to invite them as soon as possible since it was so last minute.”

  He mumbled a few words, and she chuckled. Then silence. Oh, no. They weren’t kissing, were they? Ugh. I sipped my soda and focused on the magazine photo of an abstract painting in red, white, and black. Anything to keep from imagining my parents in a lip-lock. Why couldn’t they have said something revealing? Like what the event actually was.

  A couple of moments later, they strolled into the kitchen, my dad’s hand on Mom’s back.

  “Oh, Amanda,” Mom said. “I didn’t know you were in here. Why aren’t you outside with everyone else?”

  Dad pretended not to be interested in my answer. He idly opened the bags of burger buns.

  I tapped my root beer can. “Because I was thirsty.”

  “You should drink water if you’re thirsty, not cokes,” Mom said.

  I ignored that.

  “What’re you reading?” Dad asked, still as though he couldn’t care less about the answer.

  “Molly’s art magazine. Have you looked at it? These paintings are amazing.”

  Mom smoothed hair back behind her ear more than once and leaned over the island. “I’ll have to take a look at it sometime.”

  I almost laughed at their nervousness. I was about to confess that I’d heard them—maybe a direct question would work this time—but Mom kept talking.

  “For now, though, we need to get the table set for dinner.”

  “We’re not eating outside?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “We wanted to make it easy for Cady. The fewer stairs the better.”

  Good to know they’d considered it. “That’s nice of y’all.”

  Dad chuckled. “We have been known to be nice, occasionally.”

  “Very funny,” I said. But with the table in the mix, I could actually do a little decorating. “Can you leave the table to me?”

  Mom smiled. “Sure. There’s a beautiful patch of yellow wildflowers near the pines on the front drive.”

  “Cool, thanks.” Ideas jumped through my mind. Lots of things went with yellow, and our dishes were basic white. “Do we still have those teal placemats?”

  “Check the drawer in the linen cabinet,” Mom said.

  I left them to the meal prep. Time to see how inventive I could get. And maybe, just maybe, my parents would drop more hints about the big event during dinner.

  ***

  “Yo, pass the ketchup,” Geoff said to the table at large.

  “Please,” Mom said, and Kenzie chuckled.

  “Yo, please passeth the ketchupeth,” he said.

  Dylan let out a pff noise and gave the ketchup bottle to Kenzie, who passed it on. Yes, dinner was going as well as could be expected with Geoff around. Kyle had been friendly, but not very talkative, which could be deadly in my family. If you didn’t assert yourself, you’d never get a word in.

  “Welcome to our pleasant family dinner,” Dad said drily.

  Kyle didn’t respond, but Cady smiled broadly. “I’m having a wonderful time. These burgers are delicious.” She and Kyle sat across from me, midway down the table. We’d found a low stool she could prop up her foot with while she ate.

  “Thanks,” Geoff said. “I slaved over the grill for you.”

  Kenzie snorted. “You flipped them once. Uncle Mike did all the work.”

  “And the table looks lovely,” Cady said. “I think I detect Amanda’s work here.”

  “You definitely do,” Mom said, smiling at me.

  Heads turned my way. Heat blossomed in my cheeks. Oh, great. Look embarrassed much? I shouldn’t be, though. I loved what I’d done with the table. It was simple yet pretty. Yellow wildflowers in mason jars brightened up either end of the table that I’d decorated with the teal placemats and flickering tea lights. I’d gone with white paper napkins because of burger grease but had used a matching set of clear glassware. Half the time, our table was full of whatever plastic cups people had been drinking out of all day. I really should own the work I put in. I cleared my throat. “Thanks.”

  “I taught her everything she knows,” Geoff said.

  A few people laughed. I put on a closed-mouth smile.

  Kyle watched me with an expression I couldn’t make out. Thoughtful, maybe? What did it mean?

  Noah frowned. “Has anyone ever seen Geoff set a table? I know I haven’t.”

  Gabby grinned at him, her warm brown eyes sparkling in the candlelight.

  I studied my hands in my lap. Thank God I wasn’t jealous of their relationship anymore. Embarrassed about my Noah crush? Check. Awkward feelings? Check. But now there was even less of that. Huh. That was nice.

  “He’s never set a table around me,” Dylan said.

  “Nope,” Kenzie said, and bit into her burger.

  Geoff thunked his glass on the table. “Thanks for the support, y’all.”

  Cady sipped her wine. “Well, Amanda clearly has a gift. In fact, I want to show you the work she and Kyle did today.” She looked around absently. “Where’s my phone?”

  “In your purse,” Kyle said. “I’ll get it.”

  I squirmed in my seat. For some reason, the painting work Kyle and I had done that afternoon felt almost personal. I didn’t want her to show anyone a picture. I knew people would probably see it in person eventually, but it would’ve been nice to keep it private a little while longer.

  Kyle returned from the living room and handed over the phone.

  Cady opened the photo and held it up to my mother; Gabby leaned over to see. “That’s colorful,” Mom said. “Are those letters?”

  “Yes,” Cady said. “I had them leave part of the lettering. I’m really happy with the way it turned out.”

  “Could you pass it around?” Molly asked from the other end of the table.

  Cady smiled her agreement. She handed it to Gabby, who looked for a couple of seconds before passing it again to my mother. The cellphone went from person to person, everyone muttering “Wow” or “Cool” or “Nice.” I studied it briefly when it came to me. Cady’s vision for the wall really had been perfect. It was like dawn breaking across a sky shaded blue, black, and purple.

  I passed the phone along and found Kyle watching me again. His lips twitched like he wanted to smile but thought he’d better not. I shrugged. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but the glimmer of some emotion in his eyes m
ade a strange warmth run into my chest. I looked away.

  Molly gasped when the phone reached her. “Oh! Me likey. I need to see this in person.”

  My father looked on with her. “Nice work, you two.”

  Kyle fake-smiled, but I couldn’t keep from saying, “We just did what Cady told us to.”

  Cady shook her head. “I may have told you what to do, but your own creativity took over.”

  Dad handed the phone to Geoff. “Aww,” my brother said, stringing out the word. “You covered up the best parts.”

  Cady chuckled. “Never change, Geoff.”

  Dad clutched his chest. “Please don’t say that.”

  Molly ignored them all. “It’s perfect because it looks like it’s unfinished. Like it’s waiting for the sun artist to expand on his theme.”

  “I knew you would understand,” Cady said.

  Geoff gave the phone to Kyle, who turned it off and set it on the table near Cady.

  “So you think the tagger will be back soon?” Geoff asked. “It’s been what, three, four days? Shouldn’t we plan our camp-out?”

  “It’s totally random when they show up,” Kyle said.

  “Not necessarily,” Cady put in. “I talked with the police detective investigating the case earlier today. She said it appears the taggers have been alternating between Midtown businesses and those in private residences.”

  Kyle furrowed his brows. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “It was a busy day. I forgot.”

  “You forgot?”

  “Hey man, it happens,” Geoff said. “Everyone here seems to have forgotten that it’s my birthday in a few days.”

  Kenzie erupted in laughter and leaned against me, her laughs shaking my shoulders. I smiled. I couldn’t help it. After a few more seconds, she straightened.

  Geoff pretended to be offended. “What?”

  Kenzie sipped her water and then said, “There is no way we could forget it’s your birthday. You talk about it morning, noon, and night.”

  This time when people laughed, Kyle did too.