by Amy Sparling
He grabs his Ipad off the plastic table next to him and searches for a new song to play.
"I'm sick of this playlist. I think it's time for some online radio, eh?"
My heart skips a beat. "You have WiFi on that thing?"
He nods, his eyes going wide a second later. "Why are you giving me that look?" he asks.
I lean forward in my chair, clasping my hands together in front of my chest. "Do you think…maybe I could… um. .?" He rolls his eyes, probably guessing what I'm going to say.
"Could I check my Facebook? Please, just real fast?"
He pulls the Ipad toward his chest and gives me a condescending glare. "Do you think your mother would approve of that?"
"Come on, Jace, pleeease?" I make my best puppy dog face. He laughs and tosses the Ipad to me. I catch it and pull up the Facebook app before he can change his mind. The pretty icon at the top of the screen shows me that I have one new message, hopefully a detailed list from Becca of everything I've missed back at home. I touch it and my heart falls to my stomach.
It's from Ian.
Hey Beautiful. I got your note at work. Your mom the world's biggest bitch, but it's probably a good thing that you aren't here…some stupid shit is going on. I'm not going to get into details because it will probably be over by the time you read this. I know you're grounded, but something tells me you'll find a way to sneak online. Give me a shout when you're back in town. I miss that cute face of yours.
My face flushes red and I glance up, hoping Jace isn't watching me, but he isn't even in his chair. He must have gone in the house while I read Ian's message. I start typing a reply, but then I think better of it. Guys don't want to hear girls whine and complain all the time.
I'll play it cool. I mean, I'm supposed to hate him now, right? So why does his stupid message give me butterflies?
I erase my original reply and type something short and cute instead.
Having a blast in Salt Gap, Texas. LOL. See ya, hotstuff.
Warm breath touches my neck and I jump, almost throwing the Ipad in the air.
"Dammit, Jace you scared me!" I swat at him with my free hand. He laughs. I've been standing here a while, but you were so damn immersed in writing to your boy toy that you didn't notice."
A lump forms in my throat. "He's not my boy toy," I murmur under my breath.
Jace falls back into his chair with a sigh. "Whatever you say, Bayleigh. You should forget that dude. You're better than him."
I narrow my eyes at him. "You should forget that girl, then." He starts to object but I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "You've been texting her all night. So, maybe you shouldn't be the one lecturing."
He holds up his hands in surrender. "You're right," he says matter of factly. "I won't text her again. It's not worth it."
We share a triumphant smile, both of us happy with our new decision. "I'm glad you're here," he says, handing me an unopened can of soda. "I came here to take my mind off things but it's hard when I'm all alone."
"Glad I could be of service," I say with a wink. Oh gosh. A wink? What is wrong with me?
A chat window pops up in the middle of the screen. It isn't from Facebook—it's from a messages app under Jace's account.
The username is Loren and the avatar is of a beautiful strawberry blonde girl with sun kissed skin. The message says, "I'll do whatever it takes to win you back."
I glance over at Jace, the beautiful boy who lives next door to me for the summer. His eyes are closed, his neck resting on the back of the chair as he faces the stars. He looks serene, happy. Not stressed out like he was earlier.
I delete the message.
Chapter 12
I may or may not spend the entire day peeking through my balcony window, hoping to see Jace outside, wearing those funny looking dirt bike pants. And I may or may not jump at every single noise, every car passing by, and every grunt of disapproval my grandfather makes at the off chance that it's really the sound of Jace's dirt bike starting up.
I can't exactly call him because I don't have a phone and even if I did, I don't have his number. It's funny that he's so ridiculously close to me, yet so far away. I wonder if Grandma has a carrier pigeon I could send.
Grandma drinks a cup of coffee in the living room, a roll of yarn bobbing along the floor as she crochets. I plop down next to her and watch as her knobby fingers work the metal hook through the yarn, growing her creation more with each stitch.
"That's really cool," I say after a few minutes. Our house is filled with Grandma's throw blankets and doilies, but I've never put any thought into how they're made. She flexes her fingers, wincing from the arthritis and continues crocheting. It's a labor of love, no doubt.
"I could teach you," she says, continuing to loop and hook the yarn while she looks at me.
"I don't know, that looks really hard." Maybe something hard is what I need right now, to take my mind off the boredom.
Grandma shakes her head. "It only looks hard. I could have you making granny squares in ten minutes."
"Granny squares?" I laugh. "That sounds lame. Do you have any teenager squares you could teach me?"
Grandma playfully punches me in the arm and then hands me a pink metal hook and a ball of multicolored yarn.
It took way longer than ten minutes, but I finally got the hang of this granny square thing. It's essentially the same few stitches over and over, and the yarn I'm using cycles between pinks, purples and blues that look pretty on the finished piece. Technically, the squares are supposed to be a few inches wide and then you make a bunch of them and stich them together to make a blanket. But I opt to just keep going around and around, making my square as big as it can be.
A few hours and several soap operas later, I have a mini lap blanket and my mind is completely off thinking about Jace.
Well, you know…mostly.
The doorbell rings, a loud ding dong that thunders throughout the whole house, making me jump. Grandma pats my leg as if to comfort me, and gets up to see who's at the door. It's probably one of their old people friends, so I keep working on my crochet. I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm loving making this blanket. It's cool to see something productive come out of my time that would otherwise be wasted.
"Oh, hello." Grandma's startled voice makes me look up. I can't see who's on the other side of the door. What if it's a robber or a scam artist or someone who preys on elderly people? I pull the yarn off my dull crochet hook, gripping it tightly in my hand as I stand, my heart racing. I'm not equipped to fight off an intruder, but neither is Grandma. She closes the door and calls for my Grandpa. She looks concerned, but she doesn't lock the door.
"Who is it?" I whisper. She waves a hand for me to sit down. Grandpa emerges from the kitchen holding a steaming cup of coffee.
"There's someone here to see you," Grandma says, nodding toward the door.
Grandpa pulls open the door with a friendly smile on his face. I can't see who's on the other side.
"Good afternoon, sir."
Grandpa's smile fades into a hard glare. I still can't see who the visitor is, but my stomach twists into knots as I recognize the voice. Jace must have a death wish.
Grandpa slips through the front door and closes it behind him, leaving him and Jace on the front porch. I notice Grandma peering at me over the top of her glasses and she walks back to the couch and sits down. I let out a casual sigh and pretend I'm not at all freaking out about why Jace is here. Whatever the reason, it can't possibly be good.
Chapter 13
Five decades seem to pass in the thirty minutes that follow. My crochet loops don't make sense anymore, because all I can concentrate on are the two men on the porch who are talking about things I can't hear. Grandma doesn't appear concerned, but she doesn't know what I know.
What if he found that I deleted his ex-girlfriend's Ipad message? What if he's ratting me out for using his phone and internet? As much as I like Jace, I don't exactly know him that well. He may not be on my side at
all.
The door opens and Grandpa comes inside, alone. I try catching a glimpse through the open door but I don't see Jace. "What was that about?" I ask, trying to sound casual.
Grandpa isn't fuming mad—or at least he doesn’t look like it.
He takes a seat in his recliner across from where Grandma sits on the couch. "That boy next door sure had a lot to say," he tells her, glancing at me for a split second before returning his gaze to Grandma.
"Did he?" she asks, sounding unconcerned as she continues her crochet. The anticipation nearly kills me, but I can't exactly beg for him to talk faster. I stare at my yarn ball until the fibers get blurry.
"He came over to apologize for being a reckless heathen who disregarded Richard's property."
I lift an eyebrow and peek at him. He watches me as he continues, "Well, those weren't exactly his words, but that's the gist of it."
Grandma smiles. "That's wonderful news, honey. Maybe he won't make your blood pressure go up so much now."
Grandpa snorts and takes a sip of his coffee. "He said he never knew his grandfather and he invited me to come over and take any of Richard's belongings that might have some importance to me. I told him that was awfully kind of him, and that Richard had some fishing poles that were sentimental to me. I'm going over there this afternoon."
I can't help but smile. When I first told Jace that my grandpa didn't like him, I expected Jace to be angry about it. Instead, he came over to apologize. I can't picture Ian doing the same thing, were he in Jace's position.
"What ya smiling for, girl?" Grandpa peers at me over his cup of coffee.
I shrug. "No reason. That was just nice of Jace to do that. He never meant to piss you off in the first place."
"Ladies don't use words like that," Grandma chides me.
"Sorry," I say, trying not to laugh. She'd die if she heard the words I used that are way worse than piss. Grandpa must know what I'm thinking because he winks at me.
"That boy is fond of you," Grandpa says. I almost choke on my own spit.
"What do you mean by that?" I stammer.
He shrugs. "He asked permission to take you to the county fair tonight. Seems he probably likes you a lot if he had the guts to ask me." He leans back in his chair while I turn a deep shade of red. "But what do I know? I'm just an old man."
Jace climbs out of his soccer mom rental car and holds the door open for me. I roll my eyes and slip into the passenger seat. "What's with all the formality?" I ask, poking him in the arm when he gets in the car next to me. "You don't strike me as a gentleman."
"Hey now, jerk," Jace laughs. "I may not be a gentleman, but I know better than to show my true colors when a girl's grandfather is watching me through the window."
"What!" I look toward the house, and sure enough, two fingers pull down the blinds in the front window, watching our every move. "I'm sorry about that," I say.
Jace smiles and backs out of the driveway. "If I had a daughter, I wouldn't let her go at all."
"Are you saying you're a bad influence?" I ask him playfully.
"Yep." He reaches over and squeezes my knee. Unlike Ian, Jace doesn't let his hand rise up any further than that. "I am the worst kind of influence. Especially when it comes to all the junk food we're gonna eat tonight."
The county fair is exactly what I expected, despite having never been here before. The fairgrounds share land with the county rodeo, so the air reeks of horse poop and hay bales mixed with the scent of kettle corn and sausages on a stick.
Jace buys two tickets and we get our hands stamped by an elderly woman in a wheelchair. The stamp is shaped like the state of Texas, with a blue dot over where Salt Gap would be. We walk through a barn that's been converted into several vender booths, selling things from handmade cowhide purses to paintings of Indian chiefs to body jewelry. For once, I don't care that I don't have any money. There's nothing worth buying here.
Jace and I walk shoulder to shoulder through the crowds of people who all seem to have their own agenda: the children ride the rides, the men drink beer and stare at the women, the women flirt and laugh and find ways to eat cotton candy seductively. I think I'm the only girl here who isn't wearing cut off jean shorts and some kind of plaid pearl snap shirt.
I glance at Jace in his dark wash jeans and black T-shirt with a fox head logo on it. "I'm surprised they let us in," I say. "We're not exactly the type of people who come here."
Jace takes my hand and pulls me around a blue plastic trashcan that's overflowing with paper food wrappers and beer cans. "Speak for yourself. I'm wearing my genuine leather chaps under these jeans."
I look at his legs. "Really?"
He laughs and leads me toward the carnival game booths. "Better watch out, your gullible is showing."
Jace buys us several rounds of carnival games, despite me telling him they're totally rigged. He throws a dozen baseballs at a triangle of stacked bottles and doesn't hit them once. I lose count of how many rings I throw at a painted red tube, but none of them go over it.
The carnie at the balloon booth calls us over. "Stop lettin' Kevin rip ya off," he shouts over the carnival music. "I'll give ya five darts for a dollar. That way you can win somethin'
for yer sweetie."
"I ain't ripping nobody off!" says the carnie at the ball booth as he pockets another twenty dollar bill from Jace. Jace looks at me and gives me devilish smile. "What do you say…sweetie? Want me to win you something?"
"Only if you let me win you something," I retort, snatching a dollar from his hand.
The balloon booth is a lot easier because it's basically just a wall with balloons attached to it, and you throw darts at it. If you pop a balloon, you get a prize in the category of that color balloon. Jace wins a stuffed doll that looks a lot like SpongeBob Squarepants, but for copyright reasons, this one is called Fungi Fred.
The carnie hands the doll to Jace and then Jace presents the gift to me with an overdramatic flourish of his hand. "For you, princess," he says as he bows to me. I take the doll, knowing that it's just a stupid toy, but I can't help thinking that Ian never gave me anything. And I came close to giving him my everything.
I throw my final dart toward the balloons, and hit a yellow one. Yellow is the most abundant color, so my prize choices are from the crappy section. "What's the most embarrassing thing I can get?" I ask the carnie.
His eyes light up. "I know just the thing," he says as ducks under the booth to dig through a box. He returns with an oversized chain necklace with a pendant the size of my face, made of silver plastic. It's huge, like the kind Mr. T would wear. He turns the pendant over in his hand, flips on a battery switch and shows it to us. The word bootylicious blinks in several LED colors as Jace lets out a soft, "Oh my god, no."
I take the necklace and place it over his head. "You look beautiful," I say with a wicked smile. The carnie gives me a high five.
Jace leaves the tacky necklace on despite the looks we get from kids and adults alike. I don't know if he would have this much confidence if he were in his own hometown. There's something about being surrounded by strangers you'll never see again that can change your perspective of what's embarrassing.
We head to the scariest looking carnival ride and take a spot in the long line of people ahead of us. Jace's blinking necklace lights up his face in several different colors. "This is fun. I never expected my self-inflected summer punishment would turn out this great."
"Same here. I thought I would have died of boredom by now." My hand reaches to my back pocket, then to the other one.
"What are you looking for?" Jace asks. I stare at my hand as if it were a foreign body part I only just now discovered.
"I don't know," I say, tapping my pocket again. Realization dawns on me. "Shit, I was looking for my cell phone," I laugh. "Ugh, it's such a habit, you know? I can't believe I'm not over it yet."
Jace pretends to look offended by placing a hand on his chest. "Am I so boring that you need to find someone else to
talk to while you're around me? Ouch, Bayleigh. I'm heartbroken."
We move a few places forward in line. "Maybe I'm having such a great time I felt the need to post it to Facebook or something."
He smiles. "That's better."
When it's our turn to ride the PukeMax 5000, Jace hops in the metal carriage and places his harm around the back of the seat. My stomach leaps into my throat at the realization that these carriages are way smaller up close than they looked like from the ground. I squeeze in next to him and we close the lap bar over our legs. His hand wraps around my shoulders.
"Let's aim all puke toward that direction," he says, pointing over my side of the carriage.
I've never been someone who throws up on rides, but with the way his cologne teases my senses has butterflies doing all kinds of acrobats in my stomach. I swallow as the ride cranks to life. I really, really hope the PukeMax 5000 doesn't live up to its name.
Hours fly by when I'm with Jace, and before I know it we've ridden every ride twice and I've eaten more fair food in one night than I have in my whole life. Jace checks the time on his watch. "I promised Ed I'd have you home by eleven," he says. "That gives us time for one more ride. What will it be?"
I look down at the empty tray of what used to be nachos in my hand. "How about something slow?"
Jace leads the way to the Ferris wheel. A sadness falls over me as we climb into the carriage. This was one of the best nights of my life, but the fair only lasts one week.
"What are you thinking about?" Jace asks, once again sliding his arm around my shoulders. Tingles flitter from the top of my head down to my toes. I wonder if he knows what his touch does to me.
"Nothing," I say out of habit as the Ferris wheel lurches forward, abruptly stopping a few seconds later to let the next set of people onboard.
