Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2)

by Patricia B Tighe

  I laughed. “When we were freshmen, one of the guys had memorized a whole play and kept mouthing the lines of the other actors.”

  Berger’s face lit up. “That’s amazingly awesome. Who was it?”

  “Someone who shall rename mainless.”

  “What?” he asked through a chuckle.

  I gave my head a quick shake. “Did I do it again? My lips always trip over that expression.”

  He grinned at me. “Try it again.”

  “Someone who shall remain nameless.”

  “There ya go.”

  I smoothed the pages of the script I held. “Yeah, but it’s embarrassing how often I do that. I mean, I’m supposed to be good with words.”

  “You are. Everybody messes up at some point.”

  He made it sound like messing up was no big deal. I just wished I could feel the same way.

  “So, who was it?” Berger asked.

  I popped a pretzel in my mouth. “Who was what?”

  “The nameless one you just mentioned.”

  “Oh, ha. No way am I telling you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you still haven’t told me what Kara’s big secret is.”

  “That’s because it’s her secret, not mine.”

  “Well?”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “We seem to be at an impasse.”

  “We do.”

  “Lindsey!” my mom yelled from the kitchen. “The peanut butter is out. Did you mean to bring it in there?”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry,” I called back. “I changed my mind.”

  Berger took his feet off the coffee table and stretched his legs out. “What did you want peanut butter for?”

  “I usually dip my pretzels in it.”

  He looked horrified. “In the jar?”

  “No, silly, I put some on a plate and then dip.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Are there any other food perversions you’d like to confess? I mean, I really should know who I’m dealing with here.”

  I laughed and dismissed his words with a wave. I sipped my water. “Now, where were we?”

  “Hold on, I have a question.” He readjusted himself so that he faced me completely.

  I waited while he folded his long legs into a more comfortable position. I pretended to scratch my cheek so he wouldn’t see my smile. It seemed like that’s all I ever did when I was around Berger—either smiling or trying not to. I couldn’t allow him to always think he was God’s gift to comedy.

  But as he sat there in a plain black T-shirt—forty-five degrees must feel like a heat wave to him—thick, brown hair going in all directions, his wire-frame glasses slightly crooked, all I wanted to do was grin at him. Which was kind of weird. Focus, Lindsey. “What is it?”

  “Where do you see yourself in a year? What will you be doing?”

  “That’s two questions.”

  He made an oh, come on face. Hmm. Where would I be in a year? My senior year. Would I have a lucky boy by then? I ignored the pinch in my chest. “Well, I’ll probably be doing this.” I held up my script.

  He looked at me over the top of his glasses. “Rehearsing this amazing play with me?” He shook his head. “I like you and everything, but I’m just not that dedicated. You’ll have to find someone else.”

  Why did that last comment make me want to throw something? I tried to laugh it off. “Very funny. In a year I want to be rehearsing for the starring role in the drama club’s one-act play.” In other words, a completely different theater scenario than the loser one I currently found myself in. Although, spending time with Berger was not the loss I thought it’d be when we first were commanded to do this.

  Berger didn’t say anything, just watched me with that intent look he sometimes got. The one that made me squirm in my seat. I’d better put the focus back on him. “So what about you? What do you think you’ll be doing next year?”

  He picked up a pretzel and forced it onto the tip of his pinkie finger. “Probably not doing theater.”

  That was a surprise. And not a happy one. “Why not?”

  “’Cause I’m interested in lots of different things and if I do theater I won’t be able to do them.”

  “What things?”

  He bent his elbow against the sofa and rested his cheek on his hand. “Cycling, for one. I’m thinking about trying that with Gray.”

  “Isn’t he all Mr. Triathlon with it?”

  He laughed. “No, but he is serious about it.”

  “What else?”

  He leaned forward a little. “Here’s my awful secret. I still haven’t taken speech.”

  I let out a fake gasp. “How have you avoided that?”

  “With great ingenuity. But when I do take it, I’m thinking of doing the poetry reading competition.”

  What the heck? “Poetry?”

  “Or maybe just extemporaneous speaking. I’ve been told I can talk for hours on any random topic.”

  I wrinkled up my whole face. “Poetry? That’s so wrong.”

  “Why?”

  “It just doesn’t seem to fit you. I can picture you in front of a crowd talking on and on about your travels in your dragon-land video games, but not reciting poetry.”

  “Poetry’s cool.” He ducked his head. “Okay, some of it’s hard to understand, but the stuff I do get, I really kinda like.”

  I shook my head. “This is weird. It’s like the aliens stole you and dropped a poetry-loving pod person in your place.”

  He smiled, then dragged the pretzel off his finger with his mouth.

  An unexpected warmth ran through me. With a start, I pulled my gaze away from his lips. “So, when did you start liking poetry?” I asked, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

  He didn’t appear to notice my sudden weirdness. He tossed a pretzel in the air and caught it with his mouth. “When I was eleven and we had to recite it in school,” he mumbled as he chewed. He took a swig of his soda. “Of course, I don’t know all that much about poetry. Like if poetry were a chicken—”

  I busted out laughing. “A chicken?”

  “Haven’t you heard of the famous poetry chicken?”

  “No. Are you sure it isn’t a poetry dragon? Or a poetry gryphon?”

  He smirked. “Definitely neither of those. Only a mere chicken.” He straightened his glasses on his nose. “Anyway, of the entire breadth and depth of the mighty poetry chicken, what I know can be encapsulated in one of its tiny toenails.”

  “Toenails. Do chickens have toenails?”

  He looked shocked. “The poetry chicken does!”

  I laughed. I mean, what else could I do? Smile, probably. He was such a fun guy. “Berger, you are so weird.”

  “And you love it,” he said with a grin.

  He was right. I did. But I wasn’t ready to admit it, so I carefully sipped my water to hide my expression.

  Forty-One

  Lindsey

  A week and a half later, my family and I were stacking up our lunch dishes to take to the kitchen when the text from Jeremy came in.

  Jeremy: Can I come over for a few minutes?

  Hmm. What was that about? I didn’t really feel like seeing him right then, and my parents totally wouldn’t like it. Today was another of the every-two-weeks family get-togethers, which amazingly hadn’t sucked as much as I’d expected. Maybe it was because I’d been right that my parents hadn’t been able to fix their schedules to have dinner together during the week.

  I followed everyone else into the kitchen. My parents were laughing at something Austin said as he put the dishes in the dishwasher. Maybe this whole getting together thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Before, it had always seemed like my entire family was so busy that we only saw each other to say good morning or good night.

  All the laughter reminded me of that disastrous camping trip we’d taken when I was eight where the tent fell down in the middle of the night and my dad burned eggs over the campfire in the morning. My parents we
re so not camping people, and the fact that they’d given it a try was actually amazing.

  But, whether my parents liked it or not, I was curious about why Jeremy wanted to see me. “Hey,” I said to nobody in particular, “Jeremy wants to come over for a few minutes. Is that okay?”

  My dad frowned. “As long as it’s only a few minutes.”

  “And a few is three,” Austin said.

  I stuck my tongue out at him.

  Mom tossed the dish towel to Dad. “Yes, if you can keep it to fifteen minutes. This is family time, remember.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I remember,” I said.

  Dad threw the dish towel, and it hit me in the shoulder. They all laughed.

  “Oh,” I said, “I see how it is. It’s gang-up-on-Lindsey time.”

  “Just hurry up and get him over here so he can leave,” Austin said. “I’m so gonna kick your butt in Wii bowling.”

  My eyes widened. “Seriously? We don’t have to do that, do we?”

  “Well, we hadn’t planned on it, but it sounds kind of fun,” Mom said.

  I gave Austin a death glare. He grinned shamelessly. I was so going to kill him.

  I left the kitchen and texted Jeremy to come over. Less than ten minutes later, he stood at the front door with a sheepish look on his face. “I was in the neighborhood.”

  I smiled. “It’s okay. Just want to warn you that it’s family time.”

  He froze. “Um.”

  I took him by the elbow. “Don’t worry. They’re only a little scary.” I guided him to our backyard, where Mom was showing Dad and Austin the dying shrubs she wanted to have removed. We did quick introductions and then left everybody else to discuss the state of the shrubbery. It sank in then that they were probably staying outside in the cool air so Jeremy and I could have a couple of minutes alone. Which was totally sweet.

  In the kitchen, Jeremy and I looked awkwardly at each other. Shoulders hunched and hands halfway in his pockets, he shifted from foot to foot. Oh. He was going to break up with me. I braced myself for pain at the thought, but none came. There really had never been any emotion between us. “Would you like something to drink?” I asked.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Come on, let’s sit.” I indicated the barstools at the kitchen island and climbed into one. He didn’t have to climb. He just shifted his hip up and sat. This was good. We didn’t have to face each other this way. “So, what’s up?”

  Jeremy let out a long breath, his huge fingers woven together on the counter. “You probably know what I’m about to say, but this thing that we’ve been doing … it isn’t working.”

  A huge sense of relief swept over me. He was right. I leaned on my elbows and put my chin on my folded hands. “I know.”

  He glanced at me. “I wanted it to. I really did. You’re so gorgeous and fun, but we just never really … ”

  “Clicked.”

  “Yeah.” He gave me a half smile. “I probably should’ve given it more time, but there’s someone I realized I want to ask out, so I figured we should talk.”

  This was truly amazing. I couldn’t remember ever knowing a guy who had the guts to be this direct. Most of them seemed to like to break up through texting—or just disappearing. At least that’s what I’d heard from other girls. Adam had been the only guy to break up with me. But now there was Jeremy. “You didn’t have to come over, you know. You could’ve just called me.”

  He shook his head. “I have three brothers. Our mother has drummed into us the right way to break up with somebody for as long as I can remember. If I hadn’t done it in person, she probably would’ve cut me out of the family millions.”

  I laughed. Was that a sense of humor I detected? “She sounds awesome.”

  He smirked. “I guess.”

  We left our seats and headed into the front hall, Jeremy looking over his shoulder toward the back of our house.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Your brother’s kinda scary.”

  I laughed. “Did he glare at you or something?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “He likes to try to intimidate any guy I like.”

  “He’s good at it.”

  I paused before opening the door. It felt really silly to need this, but I asked anyway. “If we had clicked, would my brother have driven you away?”

  Jeremy grinned, the flirty gleam that had first attracted me shining in his gray eyes. “No freaking way.”

  I smiled. “Good.”

  He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks for being so cool about this.”

  I opened the door. “Hey, thanks for having the cojones to come over here.”

  A laugh burst out of him. “See ya at school.”

  “Bye,” I said and watched him stride down the front walk to his car. Nice guy. Too bad it didn’t work out.

  I closed the door and turned to see Austin standing there with his arms folded across his chest. “I like the other one better,” he said.

  Huh? “What other one?”

  “The one I caught you sleeping with.”

  Forty-Two

  Lindsey

  I Muppet-flailed as I looked around for our parents. “Austin,” I said through my teeth. “You make that sound horrible.”

  He laughed. “You should see your face.”

  “It’s not funny. And Berger’s just a friend.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He widened his eyes like he was so innocent. “Nothing.”

  He had meant something, but badgering him never worked. I needed to be subtle. “Berger and I are rehearsing the school play together.”

  “Oh. So apparently that includes sleeping together on a Saturday night.”

  I tried to punch him in the shoulder, but he dodged it. “Would you stop saying that?”

  “Sure. As soon as you stop saying you’re just friends with the guy.”

  “I am!”

  He lifted his chin. “Right. I snuggle with my friends every chance I get.”

  “Gah, why don’t you get it?” I paced away, then back. “He’s a friend, okay? Probably my closest friend right now.”

  “And you really like him.”

  “Yes! How could he be my best friend if I didn’t like him?”

  “And that’s all it is?”

  I hesitated. It was, wasn’t it? I just liked Berger as a friend, right? Of course. I shoved away the warm sensation near my heart. I couldn’t look at that. We were just friends. “That’s all it is.”

  “Too bad. He seems like a decent guy.”

  “How would you know, anyway?”

  “We talked a little, after I took you up to your bed.”

  I frowned. “You mean you gave him crap.”

  Austin grinned. “Of course I gave him crap. That’s my job.”

  I ignored that last comment. “Then why do you like him so much?”

  “Because he obviously cares about you.”

  I wanted to know what he meant by “obviously,” but if I was honest with myself, I didn’t need the answer. I already knew Berger cared about me. Everything he did showed he cared. Even that obnoxious fight a couple of weeks ago showed he cared.

  When I didn’t say anything, Austin gestured at the front door. “So what does the big guy think about you being best buds with Berger? Ha! Try saying that three times fast.”

  I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. We just broke up.”

  “What?”

  I laughed at his expression of surprise, which he quickly turned to a frown.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah. We weren’t really serious or anything.”

  He put his arm around my shoulders and started walking toward the living room. “See, Piglet, this just shows that you should listen to me in all things. I could tell which guy was better as soon as I met them.”

  “You’re so full of it.”

  He smirked. “You don’t need to be dating right now a
nyway.”

  I pulled away from him and stopped. “Okay, Mr. I Want to Run Your Life, just get it all off your chest. I stand ready to receive all your dating wisdom.”

  “You’re still not completely over Adam.”

  It was a statement, no question anywhere in his words. A flat, outright statement, so strong in its simplicity. But the ache that throbbed in my chest at his words meant he was right. And I hated it. “I’m trying to be.”

  “I know, but dating isn’t the way to do it.”

  “Then what is?”

  “You give yourself time. You hang out with friends and get on with your life. And then one day you realize it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

  He raised a hand. “We’re not talking about me here.”

  My parents’ voices came from the living room, and as much as I wanted to walk away from this conversation, I couldn’t. I fingered the elephant charm on my necklace. “I’ve been doing everything you just said. It’s not working.”

  “You just have to keep doing it,” he said, his voice soft.

  “It’s already been two months,” I whispered.

  “Just keep doing it.”

  Tears burned the back of my eyes, and I turned away. But Austin twisted me back around. Holding my shoulders, he bent closer. “It sucks. I know. It’s gonna get better, though.”

  “I’m just so tired of pretending everything’s okay.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. I wanted to kick myself. Austin and I had fought about this subject before. But this time, he surprised me.

  “Then stop.” He didn’t sound frustrated at all, just matter-of-fact.

  “I can’t. People expect me to be a certain way, I just can’t—”

  “Let them see that you’re human? You underestimate people.”

  “In high school?” I let out a scornful laugh.

  “Okay, I agree with you there. But what’s the worst that could happen?”

  The horror of it filled my mind. “It would be like a shark feeding frenzy. I’d be laughed at, disrespected.”