Girl Squad

by Kim Hoover

  “Thanks. It’s not that hard.”

  “You going for pizza?”

  “We are,” Jane said to him, stepping between him and me.

  “I’ll see you there,” he said, but he didn’t walk on. “Hey, Cal?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do y’all still play touch football on your block?”

  I laughed, “Not really. Why?”

  “I just always thought that was so cool. You were a good quarterback.”

  “I was, wasn’t I?”

  Finally, he walked on ahead of us.

  “He likes you,” Jane said.

  “Scott? I’ve known him since first grade.”

  “Well, I bet he asks you out.”

  “You mean so his mom can drive us to the movies or something? No, thanks.”

  “Still, if he asks you out, will you go?”

  “I don’t know. Do you think I should?”

  She squeezed my hand, just for a second, and pulled me close enough to graze my cheek with her lips.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” she whispered.

  When we got to the pizza place, there were more than twenty kids there and some of the older guys had been drinking. The manager got upset with the crowd for being too loud and rowdy, and we had to leave before we could get our order. Jane managed to talk the waiter into giving her a pizza to go, and she grabbed me and pulled me out of the restaurant before anyone else saw us escape.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking a bite of the sausage pizza—my first ever—as we sat parked in front of my house. “It’s so good!”

  “This is decent,” Jane said, “but someday I’ll take you to my favorite Italian restaurant in LA. This doesn’t even come close.”

  “Could we ever do that, really? Go anywhere, I mean. I’ve never even been on an airplane.”

  “If it’s something we want to do bad enough, we’ll find a way to make it happen.”

  “You are different, you know?”

  “What do you mean…different?”

  “You have big ideas. You don’t let things stand in your way.”

  “I know what I want—usually. And I go after it. I’ve always been that way.”

  “I’m really glad we met. I feel so happy when I’m around you.”

  “You’re very sweet. I almost wonder if you’re too sweet.”

  “Too sweet for what?”

  “This,” she said, and she kissed me firmly on the lips, but only for a second. “You better get inside before—”

  “Before what?”

  “Just go. I’ll see you soon.”

  I got out of the car and pushed the door shut, lingering a bit before turning to walk quickly to my door. I looked back and saw that she had waited to see me go inside before she drove off. I watched from the picture window in the front of our house, until she was out of sight. I touched my lips, which still tingled from the kiss, the memory of it playing over and over in my head. I couldn’t believe it. A girl kissed me. And I had let it happen. I hadn’t pushed her away or told her never to do that again. I wanted it. And I wanted it again. And though it seemed absurd that Jane and I could be together like that, the fantasy of it made me very happy.

  Chapter Ten

  My happiness faded the next morning when my mother, who had been in a progressively angrier mood since returning from her trip the week before, snapped at me about cleaning up my room. Even after I had spent all morning on it, she wouldn’t let up.

  “Look at this,” she said, opening the closet door to reveal a jumble of clothes, shoes, a backpack, and several books. “You’re a slob!” She stormed out of the room, stopping in the doorway to hiss over her shoulder, “Clean it up, Cal. I’ve had it.”

  Dejected, I spent another half hour folding and hanging and straightening and stacking. I looked over every inch of the room, searching for anything that was the least bit out of place. When Mom came back, she pointed at a flashlight sitting in the windowsill.

  “Is that where that goes?”

  “Mom! What’s wrong?”

  She looked at me intently and I felt uncomfortable. She let out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. She hung her head and finally said, “I’m trying to sort some things out, Cal. I can’t tell you what’s going on. You wouldn’t understand, and even if you did, it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to know. I want you to trust me. Everything will be okay. I promise.”

  All I could do was nod. Then she pulled me close and gave me a hug. She squeezed me tightly and held on for so long, I started to get worried. On her way out she said, “And don’t say anything to Rachel.”

  What would I say to Rachel? What was Mom up to? I was on edge all week and then Mom went out Friday night, telling me she’d be back late. I tried to stay up but fell asleep by eleven. Later I awoke to a banging on the door, like someone was trying to break it down. I looked at my digital clock in the dark. It was twelve thirty in the morning. I went to Mom’s room but the bed was still made. I looked through the peephole in the front door and saw Dad standing on the porch. I really didn’t want to, but I opened the door to the locked screen door since Mom would come in through the garage.

  “Open it,” he said.

  “I don’t think Mom would like that.”

  “Your mother’s in trouble. Let me in.”

  I unlocked the screen and he opened it, pushing past me.

  “What’s going on?”

  He ignored me and headed down the hall to her bedroom. I followed, knowing I should do something to stop him, but feeling helpless and scared.

  “What are you doing?”

  He ransacked her room, looking through all of her drawers until he found a pile of letters and other paper. “I’m sending someone to pick you up and take you to my apartment.”

  Then he left. I stood staring at the door for a while, confused and still scared. Did he say someone was coming for me? I couldn’t think. What was going on? Where was my mother? I felt bad waking her, but I called Rachel.

  “You can’t come here,” she said. “That’s too obvious, but hey, I bet Jane would come and get you.”

  I ran to my room and threw a few things in a bag, enough for a day or two. Then I called Jane on her private phone line. “I’m sorry to call you so late.”

  Jane was groggy on the other end of the line. “It’s okay. What’s wrong? What do you need?”

  “I need your help. Can you come and get me?”

  “Now?”

  “I know it’s crazy. But something’s going on with my mom. I don’t know what. My dad is trying to take me away.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I was sitting on the curb waiting when Jane pulled up. I scrambled in and Jane took off like we were leaving the scene of a crime. I looked back as we made the turn at the end of the block. I saw a car pull into the driveway of our house.

  “Somebody just went up to our house.”

  “Must be whoever your dad sent,” Jane said. “Can you see who it is?”

  It was too dark to make out a face, but I saw the car. “I can tell it’s a Mustang.”

  By the time we got to Jane’s, it was almost two a.m. We were too keyed up to fall asleep right away, so we went to the kitchen. Jane wanted to make me some special hot chocolate.

  “This is going to take a little while,” she said, pulling a package of dark chocolate out of the cabinet.

  I sat on a barstool at the counter, watching, smiling, forgetting for the moment why I was there.

  “My grandmother’s recipe. You won’t be disappointed.”

  When it was ready, she poured a cup and brought it to me, holding it in both hands. She put it to my lips.

  “Don’t worry. It won’t burn your tongue.”

  I took a sip and Jane waited expectantly for my reaction. “Mmm, that’s good.”

  “So,” Jane said, running a finger along my forearm, “what the heck was going on there tonight?”

  “It’s so crazy. I can’t make sense of it right now. My mo
m has been acting weird. And she told me there was something going on that she couldn’t explain. But what my dad has to do with it, I have no idea.”

  “You know you can stay here as long as you need to.”

  She brushed my hair back from my face.

  “You’re so nice to me.”

  “That’s what friends do.”

  “What about your parents? Shouldn’t you ask them?”

  “They’ll be fine.”

  “Hey, this could just be some crazy divorce drama between my mom and dad. It could all blow over by tomorrow.” I didn’t believe that, but I also didn’t want Jane to think I was going to overstay my welcome.

  “We can hope,” Jane said, rinsing the cups and putting them into the dishwasher. She reached for my hand. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep.”

  I watched her sleeping, unable to stop thinking about everything that had gone on over the past few days. My head throbbed with images of my dad’s bizarre behavior. I’d never ever seen him like that. And what kind of trouble was my mother in? But even with all that running through my head, looking at Jane made my heart flutter. Even in her sleep, she held my hand. Hers was so soft.

  I thought surely I had just fallen asleep when she woke me, nudging me to get up.

  “Not yet,” I said and pulled the covers over my head.

  “Mom’s making pancakes,” Jane said. “You have to come down. Ted’s already at the table.”

  “Tell them I’m sick.”

  “They’re going to the airport in Amarillo in a little while,” she said. “You can come back to bed when they leave.”

  I threw off the covers, frowning at Jane through eye slits.

  “I didn’t have to come get you last night—”

  “Okay, okay,” I said, moving toward the bathroom. “I’m coming.”

  I splashed water on my face, taking a hard look in the mirror. Oh, god. I look like hell. “Where’s your makeup?”

  “You don’t need makeup,” Jane said, appearing in the bathroom doorway. “Just brush your hair. I’ll see you downstairs.”

  After working for several minutes to make myself presentable, I crept down the stairs. “What did you tell them?” I whispered to Jane.

  “I said your electricity went out and your mom is away,” Jane said in my ear.

  I gave her the thumbs-up.

  “Well, good morning,” said Jane’s mom, serving me a pile of pancakes with bacon. “I’m glad Jane could come to your rescue last night.”

  But the way she looked at me made me wonder how glad she really was. We sat at a high-top wooden table in the eating area of the kitchen where oversized French doors gave us a view of the patio and pool.

  “I’m so happy to be here,” I said. “Jane was a really good friend to come and get me. It was scary in the house with no electricity.”

  How easy it was to keep the lie going. I ate slowly, savoring every bite. I drifted off into a daydream about what it would be like to live in their house. I got so caught up in the dream that I didn’t hear Mrs. Rawlings ask me how I liked my breakfast.

  “Oh my gosh, the best ever,” I said when she asked me again. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  Jane’s father came downstairs with two large, heavy-looking suitcases.

  “We’re about to head out,” he said. “Jane, you’re in charge. Don’t let the house burn down.”

  “Dad, c’mon. You know me. I know how to take care of things.”

  “That’s true,” he said, turning to me. “Jane can hold down the fort better than any boy I’ve ever seen, including my son.”

  “Thanks a lot, Dad,” Ted said as he came in from the outside.

  “I can believe that,” I said.

  I smiled at Jane. Mrs. Rawlings caught my eye and gave me what Rachel and I would have called the hairy eyeball. I flinched.

  “We’re off,” she said.

  “I’ll clean up,” I said, jumping to take plates to the sink.

  “Thank you, girls.” She picked up her purse and keys. “Just so we know, are you staying over again tonight?”

  Her tone was odd and I hesitated, looking at Jane.

  “Uh—”

  “We have to check on the electricity at her house,” Jane said. “I’ll let you know.”

  We watched them drive off in her dad’s yellow Lincoln Town Car. “Your mom isn’t happy about me being here.”

  “Just ignore that. She thinks Dad lets me get away with murder. She would have grounded me for taking the car out in the middle of the night.”

  “I can’t believe you got away with that,” Ted said. “Talk about the golden child.”

  “Give me a break,” Jane said, throwing a dishtowel at him.

  “Speaking of dads, I better leave mine a message about where I am so he doesn’t worry. He’ll be at work now.”

  “Don’t you think he’ll be mad that you disappeared?”

  “Probably, but he’ll get over it. This isn’t about me. It’s about my mom. Once he knows I’m safe, he won’t think anything else about it.”

  Later, as we sat out on the patio, I started to feel antsy. I looked at my watch. “I’m going to call the house and see if my mom has made it back. When there was no answer, Jane suggested we drive by to see if we could tell anything from looking at the house. I agreed and we drove back to my neighborhood.

  “Everything’s the way I left it. She hasn’t been back.”

  We walked across the street to Rachel’s and rang the doorbell.

  “Hey!” she said. “Your mom’s still not back?”

  “No. I haven’t heard a word from her. But thank goodness for Jane.”

  “My idea, of course,” Rachel said, smirking.

  “And a good one,” Jane agreed.

  “I can’t believe your dad came over like that,” Rachel said. “Your mom would go crazy if she knew.”

  “I know. Don’t say anything to anyone. But keep an eye on the house and if you see anything, call us right away.”

  We gave her Jane’s private number.

  “I’m on it,” Rachel said, whispering and grasping the piece of paper with Jane’s number.

  “Don’t be obvious,” I said.

  “Course not,” Rachel said, straightening her back and folding her arms. “Don’t worry.”

  As we drove back to Jane’s, I suddenly was overcome by the jitters, like something really bad was about to happen or maybe had already happened. My breath came faster and I gripped the dashboard, trying to calm down.

  “Are you okay?” Jane said.

  “I think my mom has gotten herself into some serious trouble, but I don’t know what it is.”

  “What do you think we should do?”

  “We?”

  “Of course.”

  “No, you don’t need to get involved. If there is something dangerous going on, I don’t want you near it.”

  “Well, that’s not an option. You called me. Now I’m in it and you can’t keep me out.”

  That night, I stayed at Jane’s, with her parents’ long-distance permission. I rode my bike to school, instead of getting a ride with Jane, because I didn’t want to publicize my situation. After school, using Jane’s bedroom as our base of operations, she and I started our mission to solve the mystery of Mom’s disappearance.

  Jane called the accountant’s office where Mom worked and asked for her. She was told she hadn’t come into work that day. The person answering said she didn’t know when to expect her back in the office.

  “My dad is really the only lead we have,” I said. “He practically broke into the house, looking for something. And he found something. So he obviously knows something, but he’s not going to tell me anything. Maybe we shouldn’t even be trying to do this. We’re in over our heads.”

  “Why so negative?” Jane said. “We just need some inspiration. Let’s go for a swim.”

  She lent me one of her suits and we dressed in the poolhouse. The deck furniture was all piled together on o
ne end of the pool like it had just been cleaned. It was made of some fancy wood. You could tell by looking at it that it was heavy. She went over to get two of the chaises for us. They were on rollers.

  “Let me help,” I said.

  “It’s okay. I got it.”

  When she picked up the end of the heavy chaise, her biceps flexed and the definition in her shoulders showed. Before I could stop myself, this weird sound came out of me, sort of a groan and a sigh. I slapped my hand to my mouth.

  “Did you say something?” Jane asked.

  “Oh, no, nothing. I just…Your muscles are so…nice. How do you do that?”

  “We have a weight room. I’ll show you later. You could look like this too.”

  “You have a weight room?”

  “They set it up for Ted, really. My mother’s not crazy about me using it. She doesn’t believe in muscles. For girls.” She twirled around like a ballerina and curtsied.

  I laughed and helped her set up the towels on the lounges. She stood up for a stretch, arching her back and raising her arms over her head. She pulled her hair back and twisted it into a ponytail. Was she taunting me in that skimpy suit? My heart sped up. My mouth got dry. The throbbing between my legs…

  “What if we were to spy on your dad?” she said, sitting next to me.

  “What?” I couldn’t remember what we were talking about.

  “If he knows what’s going on, maybe we can figure it out by following him.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Do you have a key to his apartment?”

  “I know where he keeps one in case he gets locked out, but—”

  “And you know his work schedule…”

  “It feels weird to spy on him.”

  “Then why not just talk to him?”

  “That’s barking up the wrong tree. He won’t take me seriously.”

  “Okay, well…Do you have another idea?”

  Jane sighed in exasperation, staring into the pool. After a few seconds of silence, I gave in.

  “You’re right. What else can we do? We have to go check out his apartment. See what we can find.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Jane said. “When do we go?”

  “He’s working a day shift tomorrow so we could go after school.”