Crazy in Love

by Dandi Daley Mackall

  He leans down in the same instant that he tilts my head up. Then he shuts off my words with his soft, full lips and kisses me, long and slow.

  16

  It

  Sunday morning, Sandy wakes me up by bouncing on my bed.

  “Sandy,” I groan. It feels like I didn’t get any sleep. After THE kiss, I floated back to bed, fully intending to dream sweet dreams. But my eyes wouldn’t close, and it’s hard to sleep that way. So wide awake, I relived every second I spent with Jackson House. At about 3:00 a.m., I had to get up and chew antacids because it turns out falling in love makes you sick to your stomach. Who knew?

  The last time I looked at the clock, it was 4:37 a.m.

  “Marwyjan, get ready for church!” Sandy shouts.

  I pull the covers over my head.

  “What’s going on in here?”

  From under the covers, I picture Mom in the doorway. She will have her navy suit on and one hand on her hip.

  “Mary Jane?” she demands.

  I peek out. It’s her black suit, but I was right about the pose.

  “We’re leaving in twenty minutes,” she says.

  Sandy bounces on the bed as if that will bounce me out.

  “I don’t feel so great, Mom,” I say, and it’s true. I feel like you feel when you’ve been kissed by somebody else’s boyfriend and then don’t sleep all night until you’re bounced by your big sister. Not great. Not even good.

  Plus, thanks to the antacids, my mouth now feels like chalk.

  Mom’s high heels click on my wood floor as she comes over to my bed. “Is this because of that whole boy mess, Mary Jane?” She glances over at Sandy and says, “Honey, why don’t you go get your dress on?” Then she lowers her voice. “Your daddy and I are trying to stay out of it and let you handle things.”

  “And I appreciate that, Mom.” I have to hand it to them, actually. I know Dad would love to litigate justice for me, and Mom would like nothing better than to call everybody’s mother and make things right.

  She gets that funny look on her face and stares at my pillowcase. “Mary Jane, it’s been quite a while since you and I had our little talk.” She glances at me to see if I get it.

  I do. And I’m trying to think how I can get out of listening to the rerun of Mom’s version of the secret life of bees and birds.

  “You’re older now,” she begins. “You’re probably going to have feelings you haven’t had before.”

  She got that right.

  “Just don’t do anything you can’t undo. Promise that you’ll talk to me before—”

  “Got it!” I nod appreciatively, signaling an end to this conversation.

  Mom cocks her head to the side, as if evaluating whether or not her job here is done.

  “Seriously, Mom. Everything’s all right,” I assure her. “That gossip is being reversed, even as we speak.” I picture Jackson dialing guys and setting them straight, fulfilling his promise to help me. “So I’m not hiding out or anything. I just don’t feel good.”

  She leans over and puts her palm on my forehead, the magic mom thermom. “Hmmm. You do feel a little warm. Does your throat hurt?”

  “I just need to sleep,” I plead. “I’ll be okay. You guys go on without me. Sorry.”

  I actually fall back to sleep until Sandy runs in to show me her church dress before they leave.

  Once they’re gone and I have the whole, quiet house to myself, I lie in bed and wait for sleep to take over. But the voices in my head are arguing too loud:

  Plain Jane: You don’t really believe that Jackson House would choose you over Star, do you?

  M.J.: Excuse me! We were all in the car last night. He is so into you!

  Plain Jane: But did you ever ask yourself why Jackson House would waste his time on plain ol’ you? Face it. It’s not for your bathrobe beauty—I’ll tell you that. He’s out for one thing. And one thing only. And you can bet he’s been getting plenty of that from Star.

  M.J.: Hey, maybe you’re out for the same thing. Did you ever think of that?

  I remind myself that all Jackson and I did was kiss. Once. One great kiss. One super, amazing kiss.

  But just a kiss, right? It’s not like I’ve never been kissed before. I am a senior. Gary Matthews and I kissed in his car for over an hour last year. I’ve kissed plenty, even though my membership in AIA (Abstinence in Action) has never seriously been challenged.

  Alicia and I used to compare notes all the time. A couple of years ago when she spent the night at my house, we sat on the floor with the lights out in a no-holds-barred, sworn-to-secrecy conversation that lasted the entire night.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Alicia said. “I’m vowing to stay a virgin until I’m married, in spite of what my mother’s instilled in me, not because of it.”

  Alicia’s mother was on her third husband at the time. I didn’t think she would have counseled Alicia to lose her virginity, but I wasn’t sure. “What did your mother instill?” I asked.

  “Oh, the usual,” she explained. “Guys won’t respect me in the morning, my reputation will be shot, no one will marry a cow that can be milked for free, yadda yadda yadda.”

  “But you said you agree with her about staying a virgin,” I said, pretty confused.

  “Yeah,” Alicia continued, “but for my own reasons. Sometimes I feel like there’s not so much of me to give, so I better save it for the man I want to marry. Like, I don’t want to leave pieces of me all over the place. Know what I mean? Plus, who wants to be married to this perfectly great guy but still be thinking about the super sex you had with some loser in high school? It’s like tennis.”

  “Tennis?” It’s never been easy following Alicia’s thought processes, but the trip is usually worth the trouble.

  “Yeah. You know how Meagan and I got to be great tennis partners, but when I teamed with Laura, we stank? I think sex is like that. Like you can learn to be great with one person. So you better be pretty picky and hold out for the right one, the one you’re going to be with forever.” Then she picked up the nearest pillow and launched into an all-out pillow fight.

  Man, I miss Alicia. I know she’ll be home for Thanksgiving, but I don’t think I can wait. I kick my covers off the bed and climb out. I need to put this thing with Jackson into perspective. I can’t let myself get all crazy excited, just to be let down. Been there. Don’t want to go again.

  When I’m done with my nice, hot bath, I figure Alicia will be awake, so I punch in her number.

  “Hello?” Her voice sounds mushy, groggy, like she’s half-asleep.

  “Alicia? I’m sorry. Are you still in bed? Did I wake you?”

  She chuckles. “Yes to the first. No to the second.”

  I translate. I didn’t wake her, but she’s still in bed. “Can we talk?”

  “Just a minute,” she says. I hear shuffling, then footsteps, then a door shutting. More footsteps, water running. Then she’s on the line again. “Okay. We can talk now. I’m at the kitchen table.”

  “You have a kitchen table in your dorm room?” I ask.

  “I’m not in my dorm room.”

  My heart speeds up, and my head doesn’t know why. “Where are you?”

  There’s a second of silence. Then she whispers. “I’m at Colt’s. Mary Jane, we did it.”

  “It?”

  “It!”

  A million questions swirl in my mind, and the voices are talking at the same time. But I want to hear from Alicia. “Tell me!” I urge.

  She sighs, and I picture her face the way it looks when she takes the first bite of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. “I don’t want to kiss and tell . . . but it was fantastic!”

  She sets the scene for me. Candlelight. Pizza. A DO NOT DISTURB sign on Colt’s apartment door to keep his room-mate away. She takes me right up to it and then stops.

  I wait for more, but I don’t get it. “Wow!” I say at last. I want to be happy for her, but something inside me isn’t. I want to ask her if she’s
totally happy, totally okay with this. I want to ask her about the pact.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Alicia says. “And I haven’t changed. I haven’t forgotten AIA. It’s just that I feel like I’ve been saving myself for Colt! He’s the one, Mary Jane. He’s the only one I’ll ever do it with. And we’ll get better and better together, until we’re, like, a hundred years old and can barely do it anymore. But it will be okay because we’ll still be so much in love and even like the same TV shows.”

  I’m busy fighting off the image of Alicia at 100 years old, doing it. Then it clicks. “The one? As in he’s the one? Alicia? What are you saying? Are you guys talking about marriage?” I can’t believe everything’s happening this fast. It makes my kiss with Jackson feel like shaking hands with plastic gloves on.

  “Not exactly,” she admits. “But it’s something we both understand. I know he feels the same way, Mary Jane. I can feel it. He wants it as much as I do. We can’t stand being apart.” She pauses, then says, all breathy, “He said he loves me.”

  Neither of us says anything, and it goes on too long. Alicia and I have never had phone silence before.

  Finally I can’t stand it. “Alicia, if you’re happy, I’m happy. I guess I just don’t know what to say.”

  “It’s okay,” she says, sounding like the old Alicia, the one I miss. “We’ll talk like crazy when I get home. Hey, why did you call me, anyway?” she asks. “Shouldn’t you be in church or something?”

  “Jackson and I kissed.” I blurt it out, and it sounds stupid now, compared to her news.

  But Alicia acts like it’s the most exciting news flash she’s ever gotten. “That is so tight! You guys are spun!”

  “You think?” I ask, her excitement worming its way into me, in spite of myself, in spite of all the barriers I’ve been trying to build to keep it out. “I guess it was pretty terrific.”

  “That boy is so hot, Mary Jane!”

  “He is, isn’t he?” I’m coming around now, feeling a little nausea return as I think about his fingers on the back of my neck.

  “No lie!” she agrees. “He’s the only guy in that whole school I’d ever go out with. If I didn’t have Colt, I mean,” she adds quickly. “And if he didn’t have it bad for my best friend.”

  “It was just a kiss,” I admit. “But it was a pretty great kiss, if I do say so myself.”

  “And you do,” she adds.

  “I do indeed,” I confirm. “I don’t know. It’s stupid to make such a fuss over one kiss. It’s just that, well, it felt like more. Like the first kiss.”

  “That is so tight, Mary Jane!” Alicia exclaims. “I know exactly what you mean! When I get back, I want you to tell me every single detail. Promise?”

  “I promise. Only there might not be more to tell. He’s still going with Star, kind of.”

  “And she’s dating guys behind his back, I’ll bet,” says my friend the medium.

  “Yes!”

  “Told you I knew Star. Why does he put up with it?”

  “I don’t think he knows,” I admit. “But he says he’s going to talk to her and break up with her. Only you know Star Simons. She’s not going to make it easy.”

  “Nobody said it had to be easy. What are you going to do about it?”

  “About Jackson?”

  “No. About the Queen of England. Yes, about Jackson.”

  “Nothing, I guess. I mean, if he breaks up with her, then I’d love it if he wanted me to go out with him.”

  “Excuse me,” Alicia says. “Didn’t you just tell me he was the one in the car with you, the one with the great kiss?”

  “Yeah. But if he doesn’t go through with breaking up with Star—”

  “Mary Jane, it’s okay to want Jackson for yourself.”

  She says it softly, but I hear it as a shout. I do want Jackson. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Alicia’s right. This is an okay thing. On the other hand, this is Jackson House we’re talking about. And Star Simons. Barbie and Ken. “Alicia, seriously, do you think Jackson would give up Star . . . for me?”

  “Absolutely! Not to mention the fact that he should give up Star for Star. She’s trouble no matter how you slice it. And you, Mary Jane Ettermeyer, you are prime time dating material, girl.”

  We hang up, and I think about everything Alicia said. I, Mary Jane Ettermeyer, am dating material for Jackson House, legitimate competition for Star Simons. I think things are about to get interesting.

  17

  Aha!

  M.J.’s voice rings in my head after I hang up the phone: M.J. and Jackson sitting in a tree. I kissed Jackson, and he kissed me! Sometimes M.J. is five.

  Grow up! Do you really think you stand a fighting chance against beautiful Star Simons? points out the ever-helpful Plain Jane.

  But I’m thinking Alicia is right. Why not admit that I want Jackson House? I want him more than Star does. I would never see another guy if I had the man I love. I don’t, and won’t, say the love part out loud. I’m sure I don’t love Jackson in the same way Alicia loves Colt now. But still. Why should I sit back and cower while Star fights to hold on to Jackson, when the one he really wants to be with is me? You just don’t kiss somebody like Jackson kissed me without wanting to be with that somebody. So again, helping Jackson House get what he wants (me), it’s kind of a community service thing.

  And anyway, haven’t I let Star thumb her nose—and give me the finger—long enough? Enough is enough! Jackson and I should be together, and nobody—not even Star Simons—is going to stand in our way.

  The rest of the day, I take a stab at homework. But when I’m not thinking about Jackson, I’m thinking about Alicia. And Colt. And Alicia and Colt. I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that my best friend has crossed over. She’s done it, and she’s okay with that. I think of a million questions I want to ask her. I try to imagine Alicia married, but I just can’t do it.

  Red pops into my head. Rianna Elizabeth Douglas. I wonder if Alicia will tell her. Then I have another thought. What if Red and Alex have had sex, too? I could be the only remaining member of Abstinence in Action!

  I give up on homework and find Sandy in her room, playing with her plastic horses.

  “Will you play with me?” I ask from the doorway.

  “I love Marwyjan,” Sandy says sweetly, like she’s afraid she’ll hurt my feelings. “But you aren’t too good playing horses. Want to play cards?”

  “Deal,” I agree.

  We move to the family room, and Sandy deals, according to a game Alicia and I long ago dubbed “Go Sandy!” instead of “Go Fish.” Sandy kind of makes up the rules as we go along, and the rules are constantly changing.

  Changing rules in Sandy’s game makes the game more fun. I’m not sure yet whether the rules I feel changing in life have the same effect. I’ve been waiting all my life for boys to choose me. Now I’ve chosen one. And I’m not sure what the rules are.

  We scoot closer to the fireplace and settle cross-legged in front of the fire.

  “Did boys make you sick?” Sandy asks as she deals out all the cards except five.

  I’m so stunned by her question that it takes me a minute to respond. Sandy and I have never talked about boys or dating or anything related to the topic. I just don’t think of Sandy like that. “Wh-why are you asking me that, Sandy?”

  “Because I heard Mommy. She thought boys made you sick. Did they?”

  I have to be careful how I answer. I never would have imagined that Sandy’s thinking would take her here, to this question. It makes me wonder what else is in her head that I don’t know about. Once, when Sandy’s kitten died, she wouldn’t stop crying. All day, she bugged me: “Where’s Smalley? Where’s Smalley?” I tried to make her feel better, saying stuff like, “Smalley’s in heaven with God, Sandy.” She’d nod and say “Okay.” Then an hour later she’d be back with the same question. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. We were out in the garage, where I was getting my bike to go
somewhere with Alicia. “Where’s Smalley?” Sandy asked. That was it. I pointed up, toward heaven, and said firmly, “Sandy, little Smalley’s up there! He’s happier than down here. And that’s that.” She stopped crying and never mentioned the kitten again, until almost a year later when Dad was climbing to the attic above the garage to get down the Christmas decorations. Sandy came out and saw Dad on the ladder. “Daddy!” she shouted. “Get Smalley!” The poor kid had gone all that time thinking her kitten was in the attic.

  I choose my words carefully. “No, kiddo,” I finally answer, picking up my cards. “Boys didn’t make me sick. They drive me crazy sometimes. But not sick.”

  “Sometimes boys are nice,” she explains. “Sometimes nicer than girls. Chris is.”

  I remember what Alex said about Chris, Red’s brother and Sandy’s teammate, and I try to study Sandy’s face for signs of embarrassment or confusion or any of the angst I’m feeling about Jackson. But there’s nothing.

  “Do you like Chris, Sandy?” I ask, almost afraid to tread these waters with her.

  She cocks her head to one side and squints at me like I’m whack. “Of course.” Then she studies her fistful of cards and demands, “Give me all of your red cards with faces on them.”

  I give Sandy all of my red jacks, queens, and kings. She places couples down on the carpet in front of her, a jack of hearts with a queen of diamonds, a king and queen of hearts. And a jack of clubs with a ten of spades, just because.

  The phone rings, and Mom answers. A second later she hollers, “Mary Jane! Telephone!”

  She looks worried, but I know it’s Jackson. It’s like I can feel him on the phone. We have a connection.

  I take the phone from Mom and walk down the hall for privacy. “Hello?” I say in my sexy M.J. voice.

  Mom turns to me with a screwed-up expression. I move farther away.

  “Hey, Mary Jane! This is Tim. Wondered if you’d changed your mind about going out with me.”

  I’m so disappointed that it’s not Jackson that I can’t even come up with a great putdown for Tim. “Nope. Haven’t changed my mind. Won’t change my mind.” And I hang up.