Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2)

by Patricia B Tighe

  Berger’s gaze heated the side of my face. “Wait a second,” he said, then moved in front of me. “He just failed some little test, didn’t he?”

  Uh-oh. How could he tell? I rubbed the back of my neck. “What’re you talking about?”

  “Don’t lie, Drama Queen. Dragon Boy can read you like the stats on his armor.”

  I turned to head down the stairs. “You’re not making sense, Dragon Boy.”

  “What was the test?”

  No way. There was no way I was telling him that. We jogged down the steps together. “So tomorrow, do you need a ride? You want me to pick you up outside like I did yesterday?”

  Berger laughed. “Sounds fine. And you’re gonna tell me. Maybe not now. But you will.”

  “Whatever.” Time to tell Jeremy that I forgot I had other plans. “See you.”

  “Bye,” he said, still laughing.

  Fourteen

  Berger

  The next afternoon, I led Lindsey into my house. “Nana, Maggie,” I called out. “I’m here.”

  A muffled response came from the back of the house, but I couldn’t make out the words. We left our stuff on the couch and went to the kitchen. “What do you want to drink? Sorry, we don’t have any Bagel Bites left.”

  “Not a problem,” Lindsey said. “I’m not hungry. Could we make some hot tea? I haven’t felt warm all afternoon.”

  “Sure.” Was that why she’d been so quiet in the car? Who knew? I filled the teapot and turned on the burner.

  Maggie walked in with her coat on and her purse on her shoulder. After I made the introductions, she said, “Your grandmother is a bit grumpy today. I think it’s because of the colder weather.” She smiled. “When you’re old, you feel it in your bones.”

  “I know where she’s coming from,” Lindsey said.

  I glanced at Lindsey. She sounded almost sad. “What’s Nana doing now?” I asked Maggie.

  “Dozing in front of a game show. I imagine she’ll be up in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay,” I said, and walked with her to the door so I wouldn’t forget to put the chain on after she left. Nana couldn’t reach the chain to get out. I didn’t want to be so focused on rehearsing that I wouldn’t hear if she tried to leave.

  Back in the kitchen, Lindsey was staring out the window into the backyard. “You okay?” I asked.

  She didn’t look at me. “Yeah. I’m just a little worried about tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” I took two mugs down from the cabinet.

  This time she turned around. “You know, tomorrow? When we find out if we got parts in the play?”

  “Oh, right. I’ve decided not to think about it.”

  She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sank into it. “How do you do that?”

  I shoved stuff around on the pantry shelves, looking for the tea. “I don’t know. It’s like … I can’t worry about it. I did all I could during the audition. Aha! There you are, you ninja tea.” I brought the box over to the table.

  “See, that’s just it. I didn’t do all I could. I screwed up. I let myself get distracted by—”

  “I didn’t know we had company.” Nana stood in the doorway, a welcoming smile deepening the creases on her face.

  “Nana!” I said, heading over to kiss her cheek. “How are you?”

  “Just fine,” she said. “Don’t fuss.”

  Yup, a little grumpy. Normally she loved it when anyone kissed or hugged her. “Come meet my friend.”

  Lindsey stood as we walked over, a sparkling smile on her face. Whoa. Where had the I’m all worried about tomorrow girl gone?

  After I introduced them and explained about our rehearsing, Nana said, “What a lovely girl you are.”

  “Oh,” Lindsey said. “Thank you. That’s so sweet.”

  Nana patted my upper arm. “I didn’t know Trey had such good taste in girls.”

  Heat crawled up my neck. No. She did not just say that. “No, Nana. Lindsey is a friend. She’s here to help me rehearse for a play.”

  I didn’t want to look at Lindsey, but it was like some freaking weird magnet pulled my head her direction. She was biting her lip, but when she noticed me, she winked. Oh, great. There was no way she’d let this drop.

  Nana frowned. “When did you start acting?”

  I shook my head. “It’s just for school. A class I take.”

  The teapot started to whistle. Thank you, oh strange powers of the universe. I practically ran to the stove.

  “Are we having tea?” Nana asked.

  “Yes,” Lindsey said. “Would you like some?”

  “Oh, no, my dear,” she said. “It gives me the most dreadful gas.”

  Don’t laugh, Trey. Don’t laugh. “Nana, how about I bring some milk and cookies to your room?”

  “That sounds good, but I think milk gives me gas, too.”

  I inhaled a sharp breath and focused on the path out of the kitchen. If I didn’t get Nana out of there, I’d be suffering Lindsey’s torture for months. I placed a hand on my grandma’s back and guided her all the way to my old bedroom. “I’ll be right back with your cookies.”

  Nana sat in her recliner and picked up the remote control to the TV. “All right.”

  When I got back to the kitchen, Lindsey had poured water into our mugs and stuck the tea bags in them. “The tea should be ready in a minute, Lover Boy.”

  I laughed. “Shut up.”

  “I just want to know what girls you’ve brought here that made her think you had bad taste.”

  I sat down across from her. “She didn’t think— I haven’t brought any girls here.”

  Lindsey gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. “You mean I’m the first?”

  Her gushy voice made me want to strangle her. “You ready to run lines?”

  She laughed. “Are you kidding? If someone handed you a bunch of ammunition, you’d use it. Admit it, Dragon Boy.”

  Time to go on the attack. “You’re so right. Which reminds me, what was that little test the football dude failed yesterday?”

  She’d leaned over to sip her tea but straightened instead. “There was no test. And aren’t you going to get cookies for Nana?”

  I took the tea bag out of my mug and set it on a napkin. “Yup. As soon as you tell me what the test was.”

  “I’ve told you, there was no—”

  “Are you going to deprive an old lady of her cookies?”

  “Of course not.” She stood.

  “What’re you doing now?”

  “Getting the cookies.”

  I laughed. “You don’t even know where they are.”

  “I have a pretty good idea,” she said and headed for the pantry.

  “Be my guest.” She may not have told me what her little test was, but that subject had stopped her from teasing me about girls. And we did need to get busy. I retrieved our stuff from the living room, setting her books and purse on an empty kitchen chair. Lindsey was still rooting around among the pantry shelves. “Any luck?”

  “No,” she said, her voice muffled.

  I put some sugar in my tea and took a sip. Perfect. Hot and sweet. It was almost enough to drive out the frustration that came with Lindsey Taylor being in the house. No, that wasn’t completely true. After only three days, I’d gotten used to spending time with her. But she was just so unpredictable. It left me feeling like I had to sit on the edge of my seat, ready to jump up any second so I could fix whatever disaster was about to happen.

  She backed out of the pantry and focused on the ceiling—as though that’s where any hidden cookies might be found.

  “Give up?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “You should drink your tea before it gets cold.”

  She glared at me but came and claimed her mug anyway. She took a long swallow, then shut her eyes, and sighed. Which brought back that freaking weird magnet. I couldn’t look away. With her eyes closed there was no acting or joking or glaring. Just a realness that I didn’t kno
w how to describe. Or was afraid to.

  Her eyes opened and stared straight into mine. “What?”

  I cleared my throat. “The freezer.” My voice actually squeaked.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “The cookies are in the freezer.”

  “Who puts cookies in the freezer?”

  “My family, obviously.”

  She started toward the refrigerator, but I had to stop her, had to get control of this situation. Because somewhere in the last three minutes things had stopped being about Nana’s cookies. And I didn’t like it.

  I got up and towed her back to her chair. “I’ll get the cookies. Just drink your tea and figure out what lines I should work on next.”

  “Oh, all right,” she said. “But I still think it’s weird y’all keep cookies in the—”

  “They’re chocolate mint,” I said, pulling the box out of the freezer. “She likes them cold. All of us do.”

  I set a few cookies on a plate and took them in to Nana. She was dozing again, so I put the plate on the end table beside her and quietly left the room. Back in the kitchen, Lindsey’s head was bent over the script, one hand holding a pen, the other holding a chocolate mint cookie. Her hair curtained around her face, and for once, I was absurdly grateful not to have to look at her.

  Fifteen

  Lindsey

  After about half an hour of awkward rehearsing, things still weren’t any better. I couldn’t figure it out. Something weird was going on with Berger—he’d never acted so uncomfortable around me before. Was he that upset over my teasing? That just didn’t seem right. He was the kind of guy who teased back, not the kind who acted all stiff and polite.

  Maybe I should just leave. We weren’t making a lot of progress. Every suggestion I made on his lines seemed to make him more and more closed off. Or maybe I should ask him what the hell is going on. It could help clear the air—even if it caused a fight.

  I put my pen down. “I get the feeling that you’re—”

  A rattling noise followed by a loud thump stopped me. “Chain!” somebody called out.

  “Hang on!” Berger yelled. “My sister’s home,” he said without even glancing my way. Then he left the kitchen.

  Soooo, okay. Just lost my chance to clear the air. This was probably a good time to make an exit. I closed the script and put my pen in my purse. The low rumble of voices came from the living room, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I got up and stuck the script among my notebooks and books.

  Berger came back with a girl who didn’t look related to him at all. Her face was round, his narrow. She wore no glasses. Her hair was dark, almost black, and long and straight, rather than brown and wavy like his. But that could’ve all been from hair products, of course. She stared for a second longer than seemed normal and then broke into a huge smile. “Hello,” she said in a cheery voice.

  Berger gave her a weird look, then said, “Lindsey, my sister, Ashley.” He waved his hands in the air. “Do that whole meeting each other thing.”

  “Nice, little brother,” Ashley said.

  “Hi,” I said, “it’s nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” Ashley said, then dumped her purse on an empty chair. She strode to the stove and turned on a burner. “I never thought I’d get sick of the smell of coffee, but after this week at the shop, ugh. I don’t see how Mom and Dad do it.”

  “They love it,” Berger said.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Oh, yeah? Have you ever asked them?”

  He frowned. “No. But I doubt they even notice it anymore.”

  “Maybe,” Ashley said, taking a mug out of the cabinet. “And maybe it makes them want to crawl into a little hole and die.”

  Berger laughed.

  I finally saw the similarity. Their sense of humor. The way they talked to each other. Even the way they moved through a room, like there was a purpose to everything they did. Clearly they were close. I envied that. It had been a long time since my brother had lived at home.

  Nana appeared in the kitchen just as Ashley was shrugging out of her coat. “I wondered what all the commotion was about,” Nana said. “Of course it’s you.”

  Ashley laughed and hugged her close. “I missed you too, Nana.”

  The old lady frowned. “Then don’t leave every day.” She pointed at Berger. “This one can’t even remember to bring me cookies.”

  Berger looked surprised. “I did bring—” He broke off with a shake of his head. “Let me see where I put them.” He left the kitchen.

  Ashley unwound her beige scarf and set it on her coat. “Do you want to sit down, Nana?”

  “No. I have a few things I want to say to this young lady.”

  She stepped closer to me, and I smiled. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “I’m surprised at you. You’re a guest in our home, and your behavior has been horrid.”

  What the heck? “I’m sorry?”

  “Nana,” Ashley said, “I’m sure—”

  “You weren’t here,” she said to Ashley. “You didn’t hear the way she talked to Trey, as if she were scolding a child.” She moved even closer.

  Oh, our rehearsal. I shook my head. “Those were lines from a play. We were rehears—”

  As quick as a snake strike, she slapped my face. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Nana!” Ashley said, taking her grandmother by the shoulders and glancing at me. “I’m so sorry.”

  My cheek stung, bringing instant tears to my eyes. With a hand on my face, I stepped backward. What had just happened? The last time I’d been hit had been in elementary school. And that had been an accident with a plastic baseball bat.

  This hurt more.

  Worse than that, though, was the sudden pressure on my chest, like a huge sob was welling up. I couldn’t let it out. Not here, not in front of everybody.

  Nana was still grumbling at Ashley, even as the girl tried to pull her from the room. I had to get out of there. I dashed past them, not knowing where I was going, my vision blurred by tears. If only I knew which door was the bathroom. But I didn’t. So I headed straight for the front door, banging my knee on something as I flew by.

  In seconds I was out on the front porch, the icy air like a second slap to my face. I leaned against a post, my arms wrapped around me, fighting to keep the sob inside. But it was too strong. All I could do was let it out in a series of sickly gulping noises.

  Someone swore behind me. A few moments later my jacket was placed on my shoulders along with steadying hands. But the jacket’s warmth didn’t penetrate. I shivered.

  “I’m sorry, Linds,” Berger said. “The only excuse is that she’s sick and confused.”

  I kept my face turned away because tears were pouring down. This was stupid. I didn’t understand what this pain in my chest was. But I needed to answer him. “I … know,” I said through another hiccupping gasp.

  “Come on,” he said, his breath warm on my ear. “Come back inside.”

  “I can’t.” I wiped tears away, but more came. “I’m acting like an idiot.”

  “Then you’re at the perfect house.” He turned me toward the door. “It’s gonna be okay. Let’s just get you warm.”

  Sixteen

  Berger

  Once I’d gotten Lindsey back in the house, I hesitated. She was afraid of looking stupid, so I considered letting her cry all over me somewhere more private than the living room. But then again, being out in the open might help her quit crying sooner. She drew in a shuddering breath. That was enough for me.

  I steered her into the game room and showed her the couch. “Be right back,” I whispered, then ran off to the kitchen.

  Ashley turned as soon as I came in, her expression the classic Ashley teeth-clenched, eyebrows-raised, uh-oh face. “How is she?”

  “Upset. But it might be about something else, not the slap. Can’t tell. Could you make her another mug of tea?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks, Ash.” I jogged bac
k to the game room, which was also my bedroom, so I couldn’t shut the door to give Lindsey complete privacy. If one of my parents came home unexpectedly, the best I could hope for would be a week of being strung up by my toes for having a girl in my room.

  Lindsey was leaning forward, elbows on her knees, her head in her hands. Her jacket rested in a white heap on the floor. Sniffling sounds came from under all that hair. I took a deep breath. Okay, man, you can do this.

  I sat next to her and rubbed her back. “How you doing?”

  She shrugged. The sniffling noises continued.

  “Look at it this way, at least she didn’t break out the nunchucks.”

  She coughed out a short laugh and then sat up. “How can you make jokes?”

  Her eyes were red and puffy, and squiggly black mascara trails ran down her face. “Because the only alternative is to lie on the floor, stare at the ceiling for hours, and wish things were different. I can’t tell you how awesome she used to be. She practically raised me and Ash when we were little. She was here every day, taking care of us when our parents were rocking the business world.”

  Another tear ran down Lindsey’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  I sighed and draped my arm around her. “Me too.”

  We sat like that for another couple of minutes, not saying anything, just staring at the blank TV. And it was fine. We didn’t need to talk. There was enough comfort in listening to someone else breathe.

  Ashley knocked on the doorframe and brought a steaming mug of tea to Lindsey. “Here you go. I hope this helps. I’m really sorry.”

  Lindsey ran her fingers under her nose and accepted the mug. “Thank you. It’s okay. I get it.”

  Ashley caught my eye and mouthed be right back. At least, that’s what it looked like. Lindsey blew on her tea, then took a slurping sip. I almost laughed but caught myself just in time. So not cool.

  Fifteen seconds later, Ashley reappeared with a wet paper towel and a box of tissues, which she handed to me. “Here. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything else.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said. What was I supposed to do with a wet paper towel?