by Tara Kelly
Naomi bit her lip, and I tried to unglue my thighs from the seat. “I didn’t want her to feel like a third wheel.” She winked at me.
“He go to Samish?” he asked.
I nodded, not knowing what else to do.
His smile grew, showing off a crooked front tooth. “Cool, guess I get to meet him, then.”
Naomi squinted at him. “I didn’t know you went to Samish. I’ve never seen you before.”
“I’m transferring from Blaine.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Why?”
“My dad got booked on possession again, so I had to move in with my aunt.”
“Bum deal.” She shifted forward when Scott opened the driver’s door and got back in. With red cheeks and a frown, he jammed the keys into the ignition and jerked the car away from the curb. Naomi kept stealing glances at him, chewing on her fingernails. Roger yanked his baseball cap over his eyes and slouched even farther into the seat. I wondered how I was going to explain my invisible boyfriend to him.
I didn’t realize how tense my chest was until we pulled into the Home Depot parking lot. The breath I was holding came out in almost a cough. Naomi had tried to comfort Scott several times, but he ignored her or shrugged her off. Either way—I was contemplating walking home. The only problem was figuring out which direction to head.
I stumbled out of the back after Naomi pushed her seat forward and ran into the store. A hand grabbed my shoulder as I searched the massive aisles for the paint section. “Hey, wait up,” Naomi said. “Roger is kinda gross, huh?”
I looked behind her for the guys, but they weren’t anywhere in sight. “They both are.”
“You don’t think Scott is cute at all?”
“Not particularly,” I said, keeping my eyes glued to the signs. “Guys like him are tornadoes—they shred everything in their path and then they disappear.” At least that was what happened to my mom every time she dated bad-boy types.
“Day-am, you got burned pretty bad, huh?” She pinched my arm. “Man, I can’t wait to hear all your crazy-boy stories.”
I walked faster and kept quiet. She sounded so excited. It would probably disappoint her that I had no crazy-boy stories of my own. And I liked that she found me interesting. It made the world seem brighter somehow, a little less alien. Besides, Mom said that giving people too much information, like the fact that I didn’t have any friends, would freak them out—that a little mystery would make me seem cooler, less clingy.
Mom was always giving me social advice. She used to write skits for my Barbies, and we’d spend hours pretending that plastic hunks with rubber legs were actual people. But I preferred using the dolls for other purposes, like putting them in the freezer to make Barbie ice cubes. It seemed like a fun idea at the time.
“There’s the paint,” I said, spotting the sign. “Are your friends waiting in the car?”
“I don’t know. Let me go check—I’ll be back.”
I nodded and scanned the paint cards for the perfect lime green. It didn’t take long to narrow it down to three slightly different shades. Finding the right color was a lot like getting the perfect amount of salt in a recipe. Even a little too much could overpower the meal, and the wrong shade would give me a headache or make the room drab.
Roger’s wheezy laugh distracted me from my comparison. “Where’d they go?” he asked.
“They said they were getting paint,” Scott said.
As their footsteps got closer, I darted into the next aisle and huddled behind a large open box.
“Don’t see them,” Roger said.
“You know chicks and hardware don’t mix. They probably got lost.” Scott chuckled. “What do you think of Drea?”
“She’s all right. Kinda stuck up.”
“She’s pretty cute, though—nice tight body,” Scott said.
“I like them thicker, like Naomi. She’s hot, man.”
“Yeah, but she’s clingy as fuck. Calls five times a day.”
Roger snorted. “Every chick calls you five times a day.”
“I bet Drea still has her v-card.”
I hugged my body at Scott’s words, my breath quickening.
“Oh, dude, don’t go there,” Roger said.
Scott’s laughter was like thorns on my skin.
“There you guys are,” Naomi said. “Where’d Drea go?”
“Thought she was with you.”
The back of my neck felt damp, and my heart pounded. I stood on shaky legs and walked into the next aisle. Naomi looked at me with wide eyes. “I need to get home,” I told her.
“Jake’s having a party tonight. We were gonna head over there after this,” Scott said to Naomi.
“Aren’t you getting paint?” she asked me.
I shook my head, eyeing the scuff-marked floor.
“Can you drop her home?” she asked Scott.
“Don’t have time. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“I’ll just walk,” I said.
“Aw, don’t be like that.” Roger touched my arm, but I jerked away from him.
“Don’t touch me.” My breakfast was creeping into my throat.
“Freak,” Roger said under his breath.
The entire store seemed to be spinning around me, and Scott’s laughter kept replaying in my head. I did the only thing I could do and ran for the exit. I might get lost going home, but anything seemed better than getting back in the car with those jerks.
“Hey, chica, wait up!” I tensed as Naomi caught up with me outside. “I’m coming with.”
“Why?” I stopped and studied her face.
“Hos before bros.” She wrinkled her nose. “Okay, that sounded cooler in my head. Anyway, I’d rather hang out with you.”
Her words surprised me. I’d seen girls in the locker room swear by their friendship one day and claw each other’s eyes out the next when it came to boys. “Well, you’re probably better off.” I told her the things I heard the boys say, but she shrugged.
“I know Scott’s a player. Guess I was hoping to tame him. Lame, huh?”
“Aren’t you mad?” We crossed the parking lot. The air smelled like rain and freshly mowed grass.
She nibbled on her thumbnail. “I’ll get over it. It’s not like I was planning on marrying the guy.”
“Does he go to our school?”
“No, he’s like nineteen.”
I sighed in relief. At least I didn’t have to deal with both of the guys on Monday. “How far away are we from home?”
“Only about a mile. I know a scenic shortcut too.”
We crossed the street and headed into a greenbelt where a narrow trail snaked through wildflowers. She lit a cigarette and twirled in circles, humming to herself.
“Do you sing?” I asked.
“Sure, in the shower.” Naomi kneeled down and picked a yellow wildflower out of the grass. “Yellow is a good color on you.” She stuck the stem in my hair like a barrette. It made my scalp itchy. “So, where’s your dad?”
I shrugged. “Never knew the guy. Mom doesn’t really talk about him. What about your mom—where’s she?”
“Mommy dearest is in the OC with a new hubby and their two perfect kids.” Naomi batted her eyelashes at me.
“Do you see her much?”
“Me and my brother, Greg, used to love going down there when we were little, but you can only spend so much time at Disneyland.” She sighed. “It was easier for her to give us money and dump us somewhere for the day.”
I picked up a stick and poked at the rocks. “Why?”
“We weren’t her dream kids, I guess.” Naomi pointed to the sky. “I think I felt rain.”
A drop fell into my eye as I gazed at the ashen clouds above us. The trees whispered and danced with the salty breeze. As we continued to walk, the wind ceased and an eerie silence emerged.
“Why weren’t you her dream kids?” I asked.
She stopped, putting her finger to her lips. “You feel that?”
I dropped th
e stick and hugged my lunch box to my chest. “I feel cold. Are you going to answer my question?”
“I don’t want to talk about my family. It’s a downer.” She closed her eyes, holding her arms outward like she was waiting to catch something. “These clouds are going to open up any minute.”
“That’s not good.” I shook my head and kept walking. A low rumble could be heard in the distance.
“Shhh. Just wait for it,” she said behind me.
I turned around and studied her wide grin. Her eyelashes twitched against her cheeks as she took a deep breath. If it wasn’t for the purple hair, she could be a nymph in a painting.
“There it is,” she said just as a fat raindrop smacked my forehead. Within seconds, the rain hammered us like a waterfall.
“We should get home.” I covered my head with my box, but she didn’t budge.
“Haven’t you ever danced in the rain? It’s such a trip.”
“No. It’s cold and wet. What’s the point?” Droplets leaked from my hair and slid down my back.
Naomi swayed back and forth with the trees around her. Lightning stretched across the sky, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh, my God, we almost never get storms like this here.” She grabbed my hand and twirled me around. “We must rejoice!”
I pulled away, covering my head again. She continued to do her weird little rain dance, a smile igniting her doll-like features. More thunder echoed around us, making me suck in my breath and press my hands against my ears. She let out a howl and tore off her soaked top. My teeth chattered in my head with more than a chill now. Naomi had a lack of control that scared the hell out of me.
“This feels so good.” Mascara ran into the corners of her mouth. “You’re missing out, girl.”
As if dancing topless in a thunderstorm would have a profound effect on my life. Still, I couldn’t take my eyes off the graceful movement that came so naturally to her. The last time I tried to dance, I fell on my wrist and sprained it. “I really think we should go!”
She wrapped her arm around my shoulder and took my free hand in hers. “I always wanted to learn swing dancing.”
I nearly slipped in the mud, but she steadied me. “So, let’s learn it indoors.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sounds boring.”
“We could get hit by lightning or a tree falling,” I said, squeezing the handle of my lunch box.
“Relax. We have a better shot at winning the lottery.” She grinned again, pulling me toward her.
“No, the chances of winning the lottery are one in millions. Lightning is only one in seven hundred thousand.”
She crinkled her brow. “Good to know.”
I couldn’t help but notice her boobs. They were crammed inside a lacy white bra and nearly twice the size of mine.
“You checkin’ me out?” she asked.
“Well, they’re kinda hard to miss.” Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? If she didn’t think I was a freak before, she certainly did now. But my thoughts always scrambled together in situations I didn’t like.
“Have you ever kissed someone in the rain?”
What was the right answer? Eye contact made it too hard to think. I directed my gaze to the tops of the evergreens. Any one of them could come crashing down on us. “I-I don’t know.”
Her hand tightened around my arm, and it felt like she leaned closer. I tried to pull away, but her lips were on mine before I could even blink. My heart jumped in my chest, and my lips felt paralyzed. Her mouth was wet, soft, and a little sweet—like she’d been sucking on a Jolly Rancher. The warmth was nice, but I didn’t see stars or get that tingly feeling people associate with their first kiss. Then again, I’d never expected it to involve a topless girl in the rain.
She pulled away, studying me. “I’ve never kissed a girl before. That was interesting.”
I looked at the ground again. “Me neither.”
She shoved my shoulder. “Yeah, I could tell when you turned into a mummy.”
I moved away from her, noticing the rain had slowed. Bits of sun burned into my skin and lit up the droplets on Naomi’s face.
“I didn’t freak you out, did I?” she asked.
I shook my head, still unable to form words. I didn’t think I felt that kind of attraction toward Naomi, but I’d never even felt what could be considered a crush. People were like wallpaper unless I knew them. Physical appearance was just that—an appearance. Some guitars were beautiful works of art, but I didn’t want to play one unless I connected with it. The playability and sound quality mattered a lot more than the color. Although I usually only fell in love with the guitars that had the whole package. And those were few and far between.
“We should write a song,” I said finally.
Her eyes widened. “I thought you’d never ask.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me along.
THE FIRST DAY at a new school was always annoying, especially when people giggled at my sense of fashion. Clothing stores catered to the tall and twiggy, not the short and scrawny. I bought most of my clothes at thrift shops and sewed them to fit—usually Victorian-style skirts that I wore in layers. Today’s concoction was a cream-colored slip peeking out from underneath a black velvet skirt and a matching tank top.
The lyrics Naomi wrote over the weekend spun in my head while I waited for my schedule in Samish High’s administration office. Her words were catchy and rhythmic; something I always tried to accomplish but never could.
“Sweet little Jane was caught in a rut. She went too far and never paid up.” I was whispering her lyrics when I noticed a guy with black hair standing near the entrance. He watched me with a smirk, drumming his hands against his jeans.
Two brunette girls and a blond guy stood in the corner, talking about a party they went to over the summer. The guy focused on how wasted he was, while one of the girls went on about her boyfriend, and the other kept talking about that slut, Jenna. Yet none of them missed a beat or got confused.
I’d always watched people like this, trying to figure out what they were doing right, and what I did that was so wrong. I kept thinking the more I picked up, the more I could act. Pretend. But it never seemed to be enough.
I looked at the dark-haired boy near the entrance again and he grinned. Then he walked over and plopped in the chair next to me. “You new here too?”
I nodded, pretending to be fascinated with the receptionist and the slight eye roll she gave almost every caller. Years of observing also made it easier to read people. And this guy was what I called a common denominator: a boring haircut (not too long or too short) and safe clothes (crispy blue jeans and a white T-shirt with a brand name across the chest). He was cute enough to be accepted, but not ripped or edgy enough to be considered salivary by the common-denominator girls he probably worshipped.
The last conversation I had with a common-denominator guy ended up on the Internet. His name was Kyle White, and he had this obnoxious, scratchy laugh. One day Kyle confessed his undying love for me behind the school library. I actually believed him until his friends came around the corner, laughing. They’d videotaped the entire thing. And Kyle wasted no time posting the video online.
“So, where’d you move from?” the guy next to me asked.
“San Francisco.”
“Cool. I’m from Chicago. And my name is Justin—if you care.”
I stole a glance at him. His eyes were the same color as Mr. Fuzzy, this gray velvet blanket I used to take everywhere. “Do you like being a walking advertisement for Nike?”
Justin glanced down at his shirt and shrugged. “Haven’t had a chance to unpack yet.”
“Oh.”
He shifted in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can dress like a Goth tomorrow, if that’ll work better.”
“That didn’t make any sense.”
“No?” He raised his eyebrows. “Well, neither did your comment.”
I looked toward the receptionist’s desk again, where a guy in a baseball cap was hunched o
ver talking to her. I didn’t think much of it until he turned around and I recognized his beady brown eyes. Roger, the creep from Saturday. I put my face in my hands, hoping he wouldn’t recognize me.
“Hey, it’s Drea, right?” The sound of Roger’s raspy voice made me cringe. He’d spotted me in less than five lousy seconds.
I sat up and pulled my blue lunch box closer to my chest. “Yeah.”
Roger sat in the chair on the other side of me, stretching his legs out. “Sorry about being a tool to you on Saturday.” He leaned into me and lowered his voice. “That shit I smoked was really strong.”
“Oh,” I said, hoping for the vice principal to call my name. They sure took their sweet time here.
Roger nodded at Justin, who had busied himself with writing something in a notebook. “You must be the boyfriend.”
Justin glanced up at him and raised his eyebrows at me. I rested my forehead against my lunch box, wishing I could snap my fingers and disappear.
“Roger Miller?” Saved by the balding guy with the round nose and glasses—our vice principal, I assumed.
Roger pursed his lips and leaned into my ear. “See you around.”
My chest relaxed as I watched Roger follow the vice principal into the office and shut the door behind him. I still couldn’t bring myself to look at Justin, but I could sense his eyes on me—waiting.
“Bad date?” he asked finally.
“My friend Naomi introduced me to him this weekend, and he was kind of a jerk. She told him I had a jealous boyfriend at school.”
There was the sound of breath escaping from his mouth, a barely audible chuckle. “A school you never set foot in until today? That’s impressive.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t my idea.”
“Do you actually have a boyfriend?” He looked down at his hands. “Like back in Frisco or whatever.”
“No. Do you?” I asked immediately. “I mean…” That was when my laughter escaped—these uncontrollable giggles with snorts included.
“Would it really be that funny if I had a boyfriend?”
“No.” It wasn’t even that gay people were new or bizarre to me. Some of my mom’s friends were gay, but somehow I didn’t think this guy was. At least he was nothing like her friends.
