by S. E. Rose
“You leaving already?” Kendra asks.
I nod. “I have a lot of reading to do. But it was fun to hang out,” I say, and I mean it. I haven’t hung out with some of these girls in…well, ever really.
“You should come to Club Five next weekend. It’ll be fun,” Kendra insists.
“I will, if I can,” I reply. I look around and see that Anthony and Jimmy are nowhere to be seen. I call for a car and quickly make my way to the door. Clark’s back is turned to me as he talks to someone. I grab a napkin and waitress’s pen from his table and write him a note.
Clark,
I’m sorry. I was out of line. You didn’t deserve that.
I leave it there and rush out before he sees me. The night air is a little chilly for September. I wrap my arms around myself.
“Well, if it isn’t little Megan Lennox,” I hear a voice say and a chill runs through my body. I look to my right and see Anthony Allen leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. I have no idea what he’s been up to since he graduated high school. I take that back. I had heard rumors that he dropped out of college and was now working in an autobody place somewhere around here.
I glance at my phone hoping the car I ordered will get here in the next ten seconds. Two minutes away. Damn.
“Anthony,” I acknowledge and look away. I feel him step toward me but the door to the bar opens and a large crowd of people walk out. They chat for a moment before walking away. I glance at my phone. One more minute until the car is here.
“Why are you here all alone?” he asks.
He’s close behind me because I smell his gross cologne. I nearly heave just from the scent. I’m about to say something when the door opens again. I turn and look past Anthony. It’s Clark.
“You need a ride, Meg?” he asks as he looks from Anthony to me.
I shake my head and hold up my phone, showing him the app that says the car will be here in thirty seconds.
Anthony sneers at me and walks back inside the bar.
“You OK?” Clark asks me.
I nod.
“Thanks for the note,” he says as a car pulls up for me.
“Thanks for…the dance,” I reply. He opens the car door for me, letting me get in before he closes it. We stare at each other without saying a word, yet an entire conversation passes between us. I watch him disappear from sight as the driver pulls out onto the street, taking me home and away from the one man that drives me crazy in good and bad ways.
Chapter Seven
Clark
“We’ll be in touch,” Curtis Gilmer says as he shakes my hand.
“Thanks again,” I add as I make my way out of the room. I weave back through the corridors to the front desk. I sign out and head to my car.
I haven’t even gotten my seat belt on when my phone blows up. I look down to see the family chat.
Mom: How’d it go, sweetie?
Dad: Text us when you finish. I heard they only interviewed ten candidates for six spots. Those are some good odds.
Kent: Are you on the mission to Mars?
Di: You’re a jackass, KJ. I hope you got it, lil’ bro.
Lanie: I’m sure you did great.
Kylie: If you wore that ridiculous green tie, so help me God, I will track you down and murder you.
Kent: Damn, Kyles.
Kylie: I told him red. The power red is the only acceptable choice.
Di: Maybe you should have gone down there to play dress-up with our brother.
Lanie: OMG, remember when Kylie dressed C-Dog for the first day of school?
Kent: (laughing emoji)
Mom: Aw. He was so cute.
Dad: Kathy, he looked like a clown dressed as a cartoon character. She put red lipstick on him, and it took me thirty minutes to wipe it off because I couldn’t find your makeup remover.
Lanie: Dying.
Di: Please tell me we still have those photos.
Mom: Of course, I do.
Kent: I’ll be stopping by later to get copies of those.
Me: The interview is over. I should hear by next week. And people who share embarrassing family photos get stitches, pretty boy.
I put my phone down because if I don’t, I’ll have to handle the barrage of family texts, and right now, I need to decompress. Cranking up my latest favorite jam, I sing along as I drive back to my apartment. I’ve done all I can. Now, I just wait.
My phone pings as I pull into my parking spot near the front door of my complex. I don’t recognize the number, but as I go to delete it, I see the message.
Unknown: Hi, Clark. It’s Meg. I got your number from Evan. I hope you don’t mind. I just wanted to say good luck with your interview today.
I stare at my phone for a long moment unsure of what to do. Never in a million years would I think that Meg would text me. Especially after last weekend’s mess.
I save her contact number under the name “Megladon” before I type my reply.
Me: Thanks, Meg. I hope yours went well too. Best of luck.
There, I think. That’s a very grown-up, mature response. I walk up to my apartment and my phone pings again.
Lanie: Uncle C-Dog, are you available for a sleepover at Mom and Dad’s? This is Ash BTW.
I laugh. My sister refuses to get my nephew a phone no matter how much he pouts about it. Since it’s Friday, and besides hitting up some house parties tonight, I don’t have any real plans, I grab my things.
Me: Uncle C-Dog is en route. See you tonight, buddy.
I text Evan and Grif. Both of them have dates tonight, so I’m sure our apartment will be some sort of love shack later.
I turn up my music and drive to my parents’ house. Thoughts about Meg keep popping in my mind as I steer myself home on autopilot.
As I pull into my parents’ driveway, I don’t miss that Meg’s car is parked at her parents’ house. I wonder why she’s home. I’ve seen her car parked there off and on over the years. And on rare occasions, I’ve even seen her coming and going from the house. I wonder if I should go knock on the door and say hello, but that thought is cut short when Ash runs out of the house.
“Uncle C-Dog! I got all the bases out for kickball and Grandma made cookies and she said I can stay up until ten and watch that new movie I told you about and we can sleep in the bonus room in sleeping bags,” Ash says in rapid-fire.
“Whoa, little dude. Calm thyself. We have all night. But you are missing the most important thing we need to do,” I say, pausing for effect. “We need to ruin dinner with ice cream. Come on, double scoops are on me.”
“Yes!” Ash says jumping in the air with a fist pump. I toss my stuff in the back hall and we walk several blocks to Main Street to get enormous ice cream scoops in giant waffle cones. I try to pay attention as Ash fills me in on life as a kid in Banneker. He continues his nonstop monologue the entire walk back home, during our game of kickball, during dinner, after dinner, while we watch the movie, and even when we get into sleeping bags. I’m relieved when the kid falls asleep within ten minutes.
After tossing and turning, I decide I’m too fucking old for sleeping on the floor and I head up to my room.
I can see Meg’s bedroom light on as I lie in my bed. It’s just like old times. The time when we used to be friends.
“Clark? You awake?”
I roll over and stare at the walkie-talkie. I press the talk button.
“Yeah, I’m awake.”
“I’m nervous about tomorrow,” Meg admits.
“Why? You are the smartest girl in our class.”
“Smartest person in our class,” she corrects me.
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. You’ll be fine.”
“But what if I mess up my speech? What if all the kids laugh at me?”
“They won’t laugh, Meg. Plus, I’ll beat them up if they do.”
“Clark Michael Moore! You will not!”
“Shhhh…you’ll wake my parents.”
“Whatever. Will you meet at the bus stop e
arly so I can practice?”
“Again? Meg, you are running for class president, not the president of the United States!”
There’s silence on the other end and I know I hurt her feelings. “Yes, I’ll meet you,” I say with a sigh.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Megladon,” I reply, using my favorite nickname for her, the one I thought of all by myself.
She giggles. “Good night, Superman.”
I grin. When I told her that my parents named me after Clark Kent, she started calling me that, which led to a bunch of kids calling me that. It’s a way better nickname than C-Dog.
I groan and roll over thinking about the nickname she gave me later. Michael Myers, after my middle name. Where did it all go so wrong? I stare at the walkie-talkie that I never took off the shelf next to my bed.
Reaching for it, I’m surprised when I click the power button. It’s been five years since I turned it on and I’m shocked when the red light powers to life.
I look over at Meg’s room. I can see a dim light on in there, but the blinds are down. I grin as I pull my phone out of my pocket.
Me: Ground control to Major Lennox.
There’s no response but a moment later I hear a buzz on the speaker of the walkie-talkie.
“Clark?” Meg’s voice rings out into the silence of my room.
I turn down the volume.
“Hey,” I reply. I glance over and see her peeking out through her blinds. I grin.
“You OK?” she asks.
“Yeah, I just saw you were home. Thanks for your message today.”
I can hear her sigh. “I just…if we both end up getting picked, I want us to be able to work together. No hard feelings.”
“I agree. That’s important, but I think we’d be able to do that anyhow. Since we are both mature adults now.”
She laughs.
My grin widens. “I mean, at least one of us is.”
“I know I am,” she says.
“Oh, I meant me,” I tease.
I can practically hear her rolling her eyes.
“Why are you home? Isn’t it Friday? I thought you’d be out partying or on a date or something,” she asks.
“Ash asked me to come over and hang out and I can’t say no to the Ash-man.”
“Oh. Well, that’s nice,” she replies.
“Why are you home?” I ask as I roll onto my stomach and gaze out at her window.
“My dad brought my grandparents over for my grandmother’s birthday. I came by for dinner but figured I’d just study and crash here tonight. Fridays at the house can be loud,” she says.
“How are your grandparents?” I ask. I remember she was close with her dad’s parents who live nearby, although last I heard they were at an assisted living facility in Columbia.
“They’re good. Old, but hanging in there. How are your grandparents?” she asks.
“Meg, I know you were at my house last weekend and so were my grandparents, so you don’t have to be polite.”
“They look good,” she admits.
“I know. They do. For whatever it’s worth, Meg, I’m sorry.”
Sighing again, she’s quiet for a moment. “The past is what it is. Let’s just agree to a truce if we have to work together.”
“I can live with that,” I state. “Good night, Megladon.”
“Good night, Superman.” The walkie-talkie goes silent and I stare at it for a long time before I turn it off and set it back on my nightstand. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest. I look over at Meg’s window. For the first time in a very long time, I wonder if I have a chance with her.
Chapter Eight
Megan
I pace in my room. It’s been one week since I interviewed for the NASA internship. I’ve been checking my email every five minutes as I try to concentrate on my homework.
“You are going to wear a hole in the floor,” Stella says. I look over and see her leaning against my doorjamb.
“I should have heard by now,” I state.
“Chillax, woman. I’m sure you got it. You are the most qualified candidate in the history of candidates.”
I roll my eyes. “Hardly. I mean my competition is pretty stiff. I know of three other people who applied and that’s just from our university. I have no idea how many applied from other universities in the area.”
“You will get it. I’d bet my firstborn child on it.”
My phone pings, and I jump. Stella runs over and grabs it.
“It’s an email,” she squeals, handing it to me.
I open the screen and read it.
Ms. Lennox,
It is my pleasure to offer you a position in our fall semester internship program. We are taking a new approach this year. We will be pairing you with a partner and you will be assigned to a specific unit based on your interests and skills. We would like everyone to attend an orientation next Monday. Please let me know if you are unable to accept the position or if you are unavailable on Monday.
Sincerely,
Curtis Gilmer
I scream and then clamp a hand over my mouth. “Oh my God! I got it!”
“I knew it!” Stella screams and pulls me into a hug. “I’m so happy for you! We should celebrate this weekend.”
She steps back and I grin like a fool. I quickly type my acceptance reply and then sit in my desk chair. “OK, but then next weekend, I’m staying home. I need to get work done for my classes.”
“Good, I’m holding you to that,” Stella says as several girls crowd at my door with curiosity.
“She got the internship,” Stella says. There are more rounds of squeals and hugs. It dawns on me that for the first time since I started college, I feel connected to a group of friends. I’m actually excited for once to go out and have fun with my sorority sisters, my friends.
Clark
Me: I got it!
Kent: I knew you would.
Lanie: I’m so happy for you.
Di: Party?
Me: I’ll pop over this weekend, maybe Sunday afternoon? Kent’s house?
Kent: Done.
Tabby: Just not from one to three because Vera needs her nap.
Kylie: So, what I’m hearing is that we are having a pool party on Sunday at Kent’s house after three because my niece wants to hang out with her favorite aunt.
Di: Exactly, she wants to see me.
Lanie: (eye-rolling emoji)
Mom: Yay! I’m so happy for you!
Dad: I look forward to seeing you next week at work.
I grin at my dad’s statement. All I’ve ever wanted to do is work at NASA just like him. I don’t know if it was all the stargazing trips we took as kids or when I got to go see a satellite launch into space or maybe it was just the million and one visits to the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum that I made Mom take me to every chance I could, but I do know that this is my first real step toward achieving my goal.
Me: Thanks, guys. I need to get some studying done, but I’ll see you Sunday.
Mom: Does this mean that Dad and I are invited?
Kent: Mom, you are always invited. You literally made us all. I think that gives you some sort of elevated dibs on visiting us whenever you want.
Mom: Then prepare my granddaughter. Her aunts can wait, she’s Grandma’s favorite girl.
Di: I’m offended by everything you just said. We all know I’m her favorite and I’m also your favorite.
Mom: I have no favorites except all my grandkids.
Lanie: OK, Switzerland. We’ll see you on Sunday. And we’ll be over on Saturday too.
I put my phone down and run out to the kitchen where my roommates are eating copious amounts of chips and dip.
“I got it!” I yell.
Evan jumps and clutches his chest. “Jesus Christ, you don’t have to scream. You could have given me a heart attack.”
Grif laughs. “Well, maybe if you had a better diet, you could keep those heart attacks at bay for a fe
w more years.”
Evan flicks him off and grabs a large handful of chips. “When do you start? Pull up a chair and grab us beers. We need to celebrate.”
“D.C.?” I ask. We typically only go into the city when we want to hit a proper club. I can see Grif and Evan both look at me.
“Really, you are already serious about women? It’s only been like what two, three weeks?”
“OK, it’s just. How about somewhere local?” Grif suggests.
I roll my eyes. “Fifth Street?” I ask. It’s the one decent club near campus. “And feel free to bring your lady friends.”
“Cool,” they both answer and immediately start texting. Great, now I’m just a cruise director. And a fifth wheel.
Chapter Nine
Megan
I pull down the hem on the dress Stella lent me. How does she function in these outfits?
“Stop doing that, you look hot,” she says as she bumps my hip with hers.
“It’s so damn short. You can practically see up my vagina,” I mutter.
Stella turns to me as we survey the dance floor of the club. “You cannot see up your vagina. And even if you could, who cares? You’re young and beautiful. Try living a little.”
I glare at her. “Yeah, living is a great idea. I don’t want to attract every serial rapist in the vicinity.”
She laughs. “You are too much. Come on, let’s grab a drink and then go dance. You are in serious need of letting off steam.”
She grips my hand and hauls me through a crowd. Stella is some sort of magician at bars. The crowd parts as she steps forward and she gets our drinks in record time. And by drinks, I mean shots first, for courage, she explains. And then amaretto sours, which is Stella’s go-to clubbing drink. They are in flimsy plastic cups, so we can take them on the dance floor.
I look around and find a somewhat empty corner. Stella follows me and we start to dance with each other. After downing half the drink, I start to feel silly. We laugh and try to dance sexy with each other, which only makes us laugh more. Stella was right. I needed this.
As I’m twerking, or at least I think I am, a guy comes up behind me.
