Uninvited

by Amanda Marrone

  Nothing.

  I turn it over. Gold plated. Not even solid. I don’t remember reading that it has to be made of any certain type of metal, like the bullet for deep-sixing werewolves. God, should I start worrying about werewolves, too?

  I roll my eyes and put the chain around my neck, hoping the power of the cross is brought forth by some cosmic otherworldly thing and not by the total time I’ve spent in church.

  I put a check next to the word “cross” on the list Lisa made. I flip the paper over and bite my lip when I see the heart surrounding Danny’s name that I’d crossed out last night. I look at his name and think about Rachael’s word association. What’s the first word that pops into your head when you think about Michael? About Danny?

  Regret.

  I regret that I ever got involved with Michael. I regret that I let things spiral out of control.

  I trace the heart with my finger. I regret letting Danny slip through my fingers. And I want to tell him how much I miss him. That I miss the me I was when we were together.

  I look at my clock. I should get some sleep so I have enough energy to deal with Michael tonight. He’s the priority here, right?

  No. The priority is getting my act together and taking back my life. Dealing with regret.

  But, what would I say? Hey, Danny, I know you blew me off last night, but can we talk? I look at my phone and my stomach flutters. I programmed his number in last summer — not that I ever called. I picture Rachael pointing at the phone, saying the new me isn’t afraid to make a call. Lisa’s voice echoes in my head, telling me to deal with my problems head on.

  I pick up the phone and scroll down to Danny’s number. What’s the worst thing that could happen, besides utter humiliation?

  I take a deep breath and push the button.

  One… two… three rings.

  “Hey, it’s me, Jordan. I was wondering if maybe you could, um, come over and talk.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I look in the mirror for the hundredth time and hope Rachael was right about Danny liking the natural look. Or in this case the haven’t-been-to-bed-yet-and-look-like-hell-warmed-over look.

  I head back over to my bed and lightly bounce my index ringer on the stake’s point as I watch for Danny through the window. I consider e-mailing the Girl Scouts of America to suggest they offer a badge for whittling vampire stakes.

  Finally I see Danny jog around the corner and toward the house. I stash the stake in my night table drawer, in case Danny ends up here, because sharp-pointed objects in the bed would definitely be a mood killer.

  I shake my head. If I’m going to do this right, Danny won’t be coming upstairs today.

  The doorbell chimes and my confidence wavers. Just because he agreed to come over doesn’t mean things are going to go my way. Hell, he could be planning to drive home the point that there isn’t anything between us anymore. I take a deep breath and pray I won’t throw up on his feet.

  I open the door and look at his flushed cheeks and the nervous smile on his face. “Hi, thanks for coming over.”

  His smile widens and my shoulders relax. “No problem.” I step aside to let him in, but he hesitates. “Are your parents awake?”

  “My mom and my stepfather are upstate at a christening; they’ll be back later today.”

  He’s gnawing on his lip.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Um, I guess not. It’s just that my mom doesn’t like me hanging out if there aren’t any parents around, but she thinks I’m out for a run. I shouldn’t stay too long, though.”

  I lead him into the living room and cringe as he looks around at the flowered wallpaper, flowered couches, and flowered area rug. “Pretty over the top, huh? Like a florist’s truck threw up. My mom saw this design in some decorating magazine. It’s supposed to make you feel like you’re in an English cottage garden, but all the patterns make my head spin.”

  Danny nods and sits in the recliner — built for one. He’s keeping his distance. I lower myself onto the couch, sinking into the pillows. My confidence is ebbing away.

  “Did you do something different to your hair?”

  “Rachael did it. She thought I needed a change.”

  “Oh, it looks nice. Uh, not that it didn’t before.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So how was the party? I’m kind of surprised you’re up so early,” he says.

  “I haven’t been to bed yet.”

  “Oh, I guess it was really good, then.”

  “Actually, it was pretty crappy. I stayed up all night making sure Kassie Campbell didn’t wrap her car around a tree.” And avoiding Michael.

  Danny nods again. “Kassie’s a trip, huh?”

  “Yeah.” I will my brain to say something scintillating to move past the small talk. “So your mom doesn’t like you hanging out without parents around?” Real brilliant.

  “No, she’s kind of fanatic about that. Your mom left you alone for the weekend?”

  “Yeah, ever since my parents got divorced, dating took priority over parental supervision. Then, after she married my stepfather, who’s this huge wine snob, they go winery-hopping all the time. Let’s just say I got pretty good at entertaining myself while they travel.”

  “Your dad is in South Carolina, right?”

  “Yeah… Not exactly an easy place to get to for the weekend, even with an airline ticket. But we’re old enough to take care of ourselves, right?”

  “Not according to my parents.” He pushes up his sleeve and checks his watch. “So,” he says, dragging his teeth across his lower lip, “what did you want to talk about?” He raises his eyebrows expectantly and I just about melt.

  “I, uh, wanted to talk about what happened last summer — you know, after Melissa’s party. You called me and I never called you back, but it’s not because I didn’t want to. I kind of have this phone phobia thing. I was hoping you would call again, but…”

  “I didn’t want you to think I was stalking you or anything, and after four unreturned calls I assumed you were hoping I’d get the hint.”

  “No! I, uh…”

  Good Lord, I won’t be winning any prizes for articulation today.

  Deep breath.

  I look into his dark gray eyes, and remember how comfortable it always was with him. “I really, really wanted to call you back. A lot of stuff was going on last summer, but the thing I regret the most is not calling you back. And the more time passed, the harder it was to even think about picking up the phone, and I didn’t even know if you were still interested, and…” And there was this “little problem” with Michael.

  A big grin erupts on Danny’s face. “So when I said I missed you in class, I wasn’t making a total fool of myself?”

  I let out a laugh. “No. God, no.”

  “Good, because I’ve been kicking myself for that the past few days.”

  “Can we start over? I’d really like to.”

  “Yeah, I’d like that, too, but there’s some stuff you should know first. Before we’re, like, official and everything.”

  “I’m intrigued, I think.” Please don’t tell me you’ve been experimenting with guys.

  “It’s kind of embarrassing, and it’s why I couldn’t go that party and all.”

  “I could fill a book with the embarrassing situations I’ve ended up in in the past few years.” Why, just last night I was half naked in a room full of people, making out with an asshole!

  “Well, two summers ago my brother, Matt, and I were hanging out with Aaron Forbes. Do you remember him?”

  “He used to go to our school, right? Little guy”

  “Yeah, he goes to Saint Christopher’s now. But anyway, Aaron’s parents have this pub in their basement, with keg taps and stuff, and we kind of spent the summer, uh, boozing it up.”

  I shrug. “Okay. You know, been there, done that.” Still doing it.

  “Well, it, uh, turned out to be a big deal. One afternoon his mom found us passed out, and Aaron
wouldn’t wake up. He had to have his stomach pumped. Not surprisingly, my parents totally lost it — especially my mom. And Matt and I had to get jobs working for my uncle’s landscaping business so we could pay the Forbeses for all the beer we drank and the damage to the pub.”

  “Okay, you were young and foolish — it happens.”

  “Yeah, I guess it happens, but not to my mom — not to her babies. She’s turned into this militant breath-checking nut. I can’t go anywhere without her calling parents. She’d do background checks on the whole town if she could.”

  “Well, nobody I know has totally normal parents. Lisa Dolan was here this morning, and after she was ‘away’ her mom is pulling the same stuff.”

  “I didn’t know you and Lisa were friends.”

  “We were, you know, in elementary school, and part of middle school.” I shrug again. “So is that it? You haven’t been having a torrid affair with Mademoiselle Chubb or anything?”

  He laughs. “Not until she loses the mustache!”

  We both laugh, and I think maybe Danny won’t judge me too harshly if I ever take a stab at true confessions.

  “But seriously, you just need to know that if we get together, it may not be what you’re used to. I can’t stay out past ten thirty — eleven if she’s feeling generous. And my mom will be watching us like a hawk. She’ll probably grill your mom about what’s going on over here, too.”

  “Like my mom has a clue.”

  “Yeah, well… also… I know you like to go out and party, but I can’t be with you when you do.”

  “But I don’t have to…”

  “Wait, let me finish.” He purses his lips together. “I hear Gabby and Janine talking at play practice and I assume you’re doing the same stuff, and that’s okay, but until my mom works through her stuff, I’m not going to be Mister Exciting.” Danny looks down at his lap. “So?”

  He looks so cute and worried. I want to run over and hug him. “I think riding to track meets with you last spring was the highlight of my year.”

  Danny lets out a long sigh. “Oh, so okay, so we’re, uh…”

  I feel this huge, warm smile break out on my face. “Yeah, we are.”

  Danny gets ups and sits down next to me. He picks up my hand, and I hope he doesn’t notice that I’m shaking. “I was scared you were going to blow me off because I can’t… you know.”

  I lean in and we kiss. It feels so good. I know I should be enjoying it, I am enjoying it, but I can’t help thinking about talking to Michael tonight.

  Danny pulls back. “I really hate to go, but if I don’t get home soon my mom will release the bloodhounds.”

  “It’s okay. I really should get some sleep, anyway. Hey can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “Was it hard when you stopped, you know, going to Aaron’s house everyday?”

  He’s blushing, and I wish I could tell him not to be embarrassed, that I’m envious he’s already tackled the stuff I’m still struggling with.

  “Yeah, at first it was. But it was mostly a relief. I mean, it sucked being hungover all the time — and worrying about getting caught. Working with my uncle helped, gave me something to do, kept my mind off of it. Being afraid of my mom helped, too.”

  I nod. I wish I were like Danny. I wish everything were behind me instead of crouched outside my window, ready to pounce.

  He stands up. “I’d better get going; my aunt is throwing this birthday party for my grandmother and I’m supposed to help set up a tent in her backyard. If I don’t get home too late, I’ll give you a call.”

  “Great.”

  He takes my hand as I walk him to the front door. His fingers twist with mine, and shivers run up my arm. I resist the temptation to redirect him to my room. I need to trust that I don’t need to ambush him in order to seal the deal.

  I open the door and he leans down and kisses me again. “I’m really glad you called me,” he whispers in my ear.

  I watch him jog down my driveway, then shut the door and sprint up the stairs. “I did it!” I scream, running into my room. “And he kissed me. Yes! Yes! Yes!” I squeal as I throw myself on my bed and hug the pillow to my chest. I can still smell him. I can still smell that wonderful salty sweat smell, the way he smelled on the bus rides back to school after meets. I pull my shirt up over my nose and breathe him in. Oh, so much nicer than that damn coconut crap Michael wears. I can’t believe I ever liked that smell — like the cardboard palm tree deodorizer Janine hangs in her car.

  I reach over to grab my phone to call Rachael but decide it’s too early. At least I wanted to call her.

  I put the pillow under my head and pull my comforter up to my chin. I should get some sleep — a couple of hours, at least, and then I can figure out what to say to Michael tonight. I yawn and close my eyes, thinking about how perfectly Danny’s hand fit with mine.

  “Jordan?”

  I bolt up in bed. My room is dark and gray. “Mom? What time is it?”

  My mother flips on the light. “Three thirtyish. We just got home. Do you feel all right?” She bends over and starts picking up clothes.

  3:30! Damn, less than two hours of sunlight left.

  “I’m fine. I just went out last night and I, uh, got home pretty late.”

  “Well, it’s about time you went out. I was getting worried about you. You know I was talking to Aunt Cathy yesterday and she thinks maybe you need to talk to someone.”

  I sit up and shake my head. “I’m fine, Mom. Um, look, I should do some homework, and—”

  “Oh!” she gasps, her hands waving in the air. “Your hair, I love it. When did you do it?”

  Amazing how easily distracted she is from parental concern.

  “I didn’t do it, Rachael did. It was her idea.”

  My mom nods and sits down next to me. “You look absolutely gorgeous!” She reaches out and runs her fingers through my hair. Her eyes are sparkling, and I imagine her next move will involve building some sort of shrine to pay homage to Rachael and Clairol for bringing her the blond daughter she’d always hoped for. “Well, perhaps I underestimated that girl.”

  “Yeah, you’d be surprised how much you two really have in common.”

  My mom snorts. “I wouldn’t go that far, but maybe there’s hope.”

  “Her hair is purple now.”

  “Oh, good Lord! Well, at least you finally look like the gorgeous girl I knew you could be!”

  God, is she even slightly aware of how horrible that was to say?

  “Why do you hate the way I look so much?” There, I said it.

  “What?” The eyebrows go up.

  “Why didn’t you like the way I looked before?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve always been beautiful.” She gets up and smoothes the pleats of her pants. She’s going to leave. I know I should be concentrating on Michael right now, but for once I’m not going to let her get away with trashing me.

  “You just said I was finally gorgeous, which implies you thought something about my appearance was lacking.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “Actually it is. And you spend an exorbitant amount of time trying to get me to color my hair, wear makeup, and dress up. Do you even realize that most moms discourage these things? Most moms drill it into their daughters’ heads that they look great just the way they are? So I guess I’ve always wondered what was so wrong with me that I needed to be fixed up so badly?”

  “I never meant… I…”

  “And most moms ask about homework, and want to know exactly where their kids are and what they’re doing.”

  “Jordan, really.”

  “And most moms know if their kids are having problems.”

  “Look, I don’t know where this is coming from, but anything about your appearance I’ve mentioned was just to help you feel more confident. And I have always trusted you and respected you, and I’ve never felt the need to be one of those parents who keeps he
r child on a leash. And most teenagers would relish the freedom you enjoy.”

  “Yeah, I relished getting so trashed last night that I almost slept with a stranger — again. I relished driving my friend around last night because she was too drunk and coked up to get behind the wheel. I relish swiping booze from the liquor cabinet and smoking pot with my friends. I am totally relishing my freedom, Mom.”

  I almost smile as the color drains from my mom’s face, leaving the pinkish-purple blush across her cheekbones looking like war paint.

  “Jordan, I…”

  “Yes?”

  “I-I don’t know what to say.”

  I feel my eyes well up, and I look up at the ceiling, trying to stop my tears. I do not want to cry. They tumble down my cheeks anyway, and I clench my fists. God, why am I such a mess? I always thought throwing her poor excuse for parenting in her face would make me feel triumphant and strong. I figured there’d be no way she could justify her behavior, and I imagined her begging me for forgiveness. I imagined shaking my head in disgust because her apologies would just remind me that I am a better person than she is.

  But maybe I’m crying because after listening to the list I just spouted off, I don’t have a whole lot to lord over anyone.

  I’m not better than her — I just have a different set of problems.

  My eyes flick over to the clock. I’m running out of daylight. Part of me is relieved, like I’ve just crossed off another item on my internal list of things to do. Part of me wants to say, okay — catharsis over — I have to move on to the next item: Michael.

  My mom sits down on my bed again and sniffs daintily. “What do you want me to do?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.” Hunt down Michael for me.

  “Barbara?” Steve calls from downstairs. “Where’s the Verona Pizza menu?”

  “Hold on,” she calls out. “Do you want to take the day off tomorrow and talk? We can go shopping and do lunch. Figure things out.”

  “I’ve been warned that any further absences on my part will result in meetings with Dr. Deluca.”