Faking Normal

by Courtney C. Stevens

  I’m starting to think I’ll owe Heather ten dollars. Hayden is not sounding like a guy Heather had to talk into going out with me. And I don’t get that. Because last year, guys did not form a line to ask me out.

  So I have to wonder. Did he change me? The image of blue Hawaiian swim trunks rips through my brain. Rips through the peace I’ve held on to so firmly tonight. Did he . . . do something to me that guys can see on the outside? Now do they want to do it too?

  Craig and Kayla both commented that I’d changed over the summer. All the trauma feels like it’s happening inside me, but maybe it’s leaking out.

  “You know we’re kidding about Bodee?” Heather asks with a laugh. “He’s the most undatable, nonthreatening guy at Rickman. You’re more likely to sleep with Collie than date Bodee Lennox.”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  Collie steals a kiss from Heather and quickly says, “Hon, please don’t pimp me out.”

  Even though the night air is warm, I shiver and pull away from Hayden’s arm.

  “You cold?” Hayden asks. “Because I can warm you up.”

  “I’m fine.” I say it fast, but Hayden is already digging in the inside pocket of his suit coat. He shakes a little metal flask at me and then at Collie.

  “All right! Your brother came through,” Collie says.

  “Doesn’t he always?” Hayden says. “It’s better than a blanket,” he promises me.

  “Alexi’s a wine cooler girl,” Heather tells him with a wink at me.

  “Oh,” Hayden says. “Okay.”

  Saying I’m a wine cooler girl is like saying Bodee’s chatty. But I give Heather an appreciative look for her protective comment. I’m off the hook. Even if I did want to drink tonight, it would definitely not be from Hayden’s flask.

  “Well, we’re gonna have a good time tonight, buddy,” Collie says.

  “Just don’t let Coach Tanner catch you again,” Heather warns. “You’d have been suspended last time, if he hadn’t agreed to keep your little secret.”

  “Suspension would have been easier. He ran us the next day at practice till we puked,” Hayden says. “That was punishment enough.”

  “Probably the reason he didn’t tell is he did the same thing in high school. Right, Alexi?” Collie asks. “Hayden’s older brother says Coach was wild back in the day.”

  “I don’t know,” I say, thinking another reason might be that Craig couldn’t win without his star football players. “I was, like, seven when he was that age.”

  That little flask makes me nervous on so many levels. Because it turns an otherwise decent guy into an octopus with eight hands. Or, at the least, an idiot. But I can’t say anything. This is my night to act normal. My night to forget. And to remember that I still like guys. Guys who think I’m attractive and want to hold my hand. And buy me dinner. And get cheesy, stupid dance pictures taken with me so my mom can put them in her scrapbook.

  “I’ll bet Coach has plans with your sister. He won’t catch us tonight.” Hayden conceals the flask in his large hand like a magic trick. “Our only plan is to celebrate. Just like every other guy on the team. Right, Collie?” Hayden slings an arm around my shoulder. “You don’t mind, do you, Alexi?”

  There’s a pause as Heather, Collie, and Hayden wait to see how I’ll respond.

  “Long as you don’t confuse me with Janna,” I say, and think I deserve an Oscar.

  Everyone laughs, and Hayden takes a sip while we’re still in the shadows of parked cars. From here, I see the open gym doors and hear the music. Dane’s probably happy because a popular rap song is blaring out lyrics I’d never dream of writing on the desk.

  A nagging sensation, the one whispering that Hayden is a creep who’ll try to take advantage of me, is back. Along with the need to tear at my neck. My knuckles are white from gripping my clutch, and I take a deep breath.

  “Ready to go in?” I ask, and hope the dark camouflages the panic in my eyes.

  “Absolutely,” Hayden says.

  In we go. Collie and Heather. Hayden and I. And the flask.

  As Hayden hands over our tickets, I think about Bodee. Is the ten-dollar bill crisp or wrinkled? Has he kept it wadded up in his pocket since she gave it to him or flattened between the pages of Hatchet, where I imagine he stores important things? Will it hurt when he hands it over to Mrs. Ramsey for entry into his first dance? Guilt is a good distraction from my fears. And so is Bodee. He’ll be behind us somewhere.

  “You want pictures?” Hayden asks.

  “Sure,” I say, as if I haven’t already thought about this.

  Hayden smiles and pulls me along toward the tacky photo backdrop. A Knight to Remember.

  We move closer together at the photographer’s insistence.

  “Beautiful couple,” the old man says, looking at us through the lens.

  The camera flashes and he takes one more, promising we’ll have our hard-copy memories in a week. Perfect. By then, we won’t even care about the dance or the twenty he shelled out to stand by the life-size statue of a black knight made of plastic.

  And the girl who is not Janna.

  When we leave the lit hallway and step into the gym, it takes my eyes a minute to adjust to the disco ball and strobe lights. My ears beg for a pair of plugs as my heart rate matches the bass from the DJ’s speakers. There are nearly six hundred students at Rickman High, but there must be a thousand people here. Well, probably not, but it already smells like a thousand.

  “Check the newbies.” Hayden points at the edge of the gym. The freshman class is a border of braces and shyness.

  “Hey, you were just like that once,” I say.

  He eyes a boy who’s wearing a bow tie with a plaid shirt and says, “I was never like that.” And then points to a couple slow-dancing to a fast song and says, “I was a lot more like that.”

  “You and Janna were sort of legendary,” I say.

  “It’s your job to hide me tonight,” he says.

  Hide him. Is he kidding? As he pulls me toward the drink table, heads twist around as girls get a look at the football player attached to my side.

  “Oh God, there she is,” he says.

  “Where?” My eyes sweep the room in search of the Janna-monster. I’m only partially looking for her, because I’m Bodee-watching, too. I can barely see the people next to us for the fog machine in this corner. Where is my Kool-Aid friend? Would he stand along the edge with the boy in the plaid or in the corner like the girl wearing a tux?

  “Over there.” Hayden flips his head toward the entrance.

  Janna’s top-heavy and bottomed-out, and the girl by the entrance looks a few cup sizes short of Hayden’s ex. “You sure that’s her?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  The girl turns to the side to talk to a friend, and I can tell Hayden is right. The familiarity between them is something that only comes from spending time together. Across a crowded, dark room, Hayden knows her shape. Will I ever know Captain Lyric that way? Or Bodee?

  The Captain’s probably here somewhere tonight. Dancing with another girl who doesn’t complete him any more than Hayden completes me.

  I play the Where Is Captain Lyric Right Now? game. What if he’s Janna’s date? Now that would be ironic. Or the boy in the plaid? I hope not. Hayden? What if I’m already on a date with my perfect guy?

  “Just need enough to take the edge off sharing a room with Janna,” Hayden says as we reach the drink table.

  I’ve got an edge like the Grand Canyon, and nothing takes it off. “Whatever,” I say. Hayden can’t be my Captain. The Captain doesn’t drink. Or in my fantasy he doesn’t.

  Hayden doctors and drains the drink. “Now, I’m ready to dance,” he says.

  “Me too,” I say, hoping to get us away from the drink table.

  As I join him on the dance floor, the Captain and Bodee aren’t the only thoughts filling my head. My personal silencer is here too. Reminding me Heather was the one who rejected the alcohol, not me. Suggesting that when Hayd
en’s hands want to linger in places they don’t belong, I’ll let him do whatever he wants.

  We dance two fast songs before Collie and Heather and Liz and Ray make our twosome a circle.

  “Hey,” Heather screams over the music. “We lost you after pictures.”

  The flask moves between Hayden and Collie. And back again.

  Liz rolls her eyes. “Neither of you need that.”

  Maybe they do, because that’s when Janna steps into our circle and puts her mouth up to Hayden’s ear and her hands around his waist.

  Whatever she says gets an angry look from Hayden. “Where’s your date?” he asks, and doesn’t sound like himself.

  “He left me. Alone on homecoming,” Janna says with a pout.

  “I can’t imagine why,” Heather says.

  Janna’s like a three-year-old who just lost her favorite stuffed animal. I see Hayden soften, and for a moment, I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. Then I think, What a nervy bitch. But I’m not going to tell her off; I’m too curious to see what Hayden will choose.

  “Hayden, baby”—there’s alcohol in that whine—“dance with me just once for old times’ sake. I’m sure Allie won’t matter, er, mind.”

  “Her name’s Alexi, Janie,” Heather snaps.

  Hayden leans over to me and says into my ear, “This might be the only way to get rid of her. Any chance you could find Kool-Aid now? We could get these dances over with.”

  I nod and leave the group as the first slow song begins. Couples bump into me as they sway to the music, their bodies entwined like snakes.

  I don’t have time to wonder where Bodee is before he taps my shoulder. Like he’s been here all along. “Now?” he asks, just loud enough to hear him.

  “Yes, please.” There are tears on my cheeks as he puts both hands on my hips.

  “I don’t have to touch you,” he says.

  “It’s not you.” I put my hands on his shoulders so he knows I’m telling the truth, but he only uses his index fingers and thumbs to touch me.

  “Okay.” I see sympathy as the light of the disco ball catches his eyes. “He matters more than you planned?”

  “No.” I swipe the tears away. “It just sucks not to matter more than that. It took him less than three dances to take Janna back. I didn’t think he was anything special, but I thought we’d make it longer than pictures and alcohol.”

  “I’m sorry.” Like a willow in the wind, Bodee bends toward me and says, “Love is awkward sometimes.”

  “But I don’t love Hayden.”

  “Good.” Bodee touches my cheek. Only as he shows me a tear on his finger do I release the breath in my lungs. He smiles, but it’s not a happy smile, and says, “I meant you have trouble loving yourself.”

  “You think?” I ask.

  “I do,” he says.

  God, I wish this song had a million verses.

  “Can I stand closer to you?” Bodee asks.

  Considering we’ve locked our arms, and Hayden and Janna and Janna’s boobs could fit between us, that sounds like a great idea to me. “Yes.”

  He moves maybe an inch closer to me. A tiny bend of his elbow. And then he uses the happy, teeth-showing smile. We’re close. Closer than Hayden and I were moments ago, and Hayden had been all up in my space.

  “I have a secret,” Bodee says.

  He can tell me anything.

  “Yeah?” I ask as a hand wraps around my bicep and tugs me away.

  “We’re leaving. Now!” Hayden says.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  chapter 11

  “WHY?” I ask Hayden as I look over my shoulder at Bodee. He’s wearing another of his unreadable expressions. Maybe fear. Or even anger.

  “Because I can’t stand to be in the room with that”—Hayden uses a word for Janna I can’t quite hear over the guitar riff that ends the slow dance—“for another minute.”

  Couples break apart. Ahead of us, people clog the path to the exit, but Hayden’s shoulders part the dance crowd the way he dodges through the defensive line. Behind me, there are arms and torsos and blue dresses and gray suits and punch glasses and striped ties. But there’s no Bodee.

  I plead with Bodee’s mind as if we are somehow connected. Follow me. Help me.

  “Janna. Ohh. I hate that girl,” Hayden says. “She ruins everything.” And that’s not all he says, but it’s all I listen to as he drags me after him.

  I need to stop him before we get to the gym doors. Hayden, angry and tipsy and alone with me, is a nightmare on repeat.

  “We barely even danced,” I say again, looking for my rescuer’s blue shirt. Bodee will come. He promised he would get me home safe. Right?

  “No, but at least you got to keep your promise to your mom about Bodee. I’m sure you’ll remember that for the rest of your life.”

  As Hayden snickers about Bodee, I realize the only thing Bodee actually promised me was that he wouldn’t interfere with my date. These lies are starting to confuse even me. Sure, Bodee offered to come to the dance, but he only gave me a look after the game. A look I must have misinterpreted because I wanted it to be protective and more than it was.

  Hayden nearly runs over a sophomore girl and her date when he looks over his shoulder to say, “We can dance somewhere else. Dane’s. The bottoms. Anywhere but here.”

  Sweet Jesus, he wants to go to the bottoms.

  “The bottoms,” I mumble to Hayden as the strobe light quits blinking and the twinkle of the disco ball looks like a solid fluorescent bulb. Why did the DJ stop playing music? My mind tilts and spins. Like God used Earth to shoot marbles, and I have to roll dizzily along with it.

  “Yeah, that’s where the team always goes on Friday nights. You’ll love it,” he says.

  Heather’s told me all about the bottoms. Four-wheeling is the only legal thing that happens there on the weekends. The county could put up a little green marker that explains the bottoms as the most popular place for teen drinking, drugs, and sex. Or almost-sex, in Heather’s case. I have to stop us. This desire is louder than anything in the dance and yet a mouse squeaks from my lips, “Yeah, okay.”

  I want to stay here. Want to tell Hayden that Liz and Ray will take me home. Or that Bodee, with no car, will find a way to get me home safe. But no. I’m tethered to Hayden for the night. His fingers are wrapped around mine like a noose, and I go where he wants.

  What is wrong with me?

  “You don’t care about some stupid high school dance, do you?” Hayden asks as he wobbles across the parking lot.

  One last look through the double doors of the gym. No Bodee. “I don’t care,” I tell Hayden.

  “Good, you can drive.”

  “I only have a learner’s permit,” I say.

  “So. It’s not like I should drive.”

  He’s right. His speech is normal, but his balance is way off. I have no idea how much he’s had of what, but he shouldn’t be behind the wheel. Neither should I. I’ve barely practiced beyond passing the written test. Life has been too crazy for me to drive.

  When we reach Hayden’s truck, he walks me around to the driver’s door. Well, it’s more like I walk him. He opens the door. In the pause, while his fingers weave through mine, he kisses me. Minus the whiskey on his breath, it’s perfect in a non-important way. Last semester it would have sent me over the Big Dipper and back again. But now, I’m only thinking about what he might want next.

  “I’ve always wanted to do that,” he says.

  My face flushes; I can practically hear the blood beating in my veins. “Whatever. I know Heather talked you into this.”

  “No.” He brushes the back of his hand over my cheek. “I talked her into it. She said you have some rule about dating football players.”

  There’s a reason for that. I stare at Hayden. He’s handsome all over. From his steel-gray eyes to the way his nose
flares slightly and his cheeks dimple when he smiles. He’s smiling now, and I put on a grin to match as I realize maybe I can stop him before he starts.

  “Yeah, I have a rule about dating boys who sleep with half the school.” The words roll out of me like a herd of horses.

  “Good. ’Cause I have a thing against girls who sleep with a quarter of the school.”

  “You do?”

  “Alexi, we’re not all man-whores.” He grips the door for balance. “I’d rather have a girl who’s hard to get. Like you.”

  When his hands explored beneath my swimsuit or when his body pressed mine into the concrete while I counted the stars instead of kisses, my words were gone. Deleted. Zapped. But here, while there is still breathing space between Hayden and me, I find the courage to delay him. “Very hard to get,” I say.

  “I got all the time in the world, and I like a challenge,” he says as if I’m Saint X, the only team our guys haven’t managed to defeat in the last three seasons.

  “What about Janna?” Maybe this reminder will put some distance between us.

  “You”—he kisses below my ear—“are nothing like Janna.”

  “I know.” Which is why this is a very bad idea. A guy like Hayden was with a girl like Janna for a reason.

  “Actually, you’re not like anybody I know,” he says. “I mean, who dances with Bodee Lennox? The guy’s a loser, but you’re nice to him. Maybe it’s because his family’s jacked up, but Janna would shove her heel up her own ass before she’d dance with a guy like that. God knows I’m not perfect, but I’d like to be with someone like you for a while.”

  “Someone like me.” For a while? I escape his spider hands that seem to keep me against the truck. Backward, I struggle to climb the running board and sit facing him in the driver’s seat. “What’s that mean?” I ask.

  Hayden’s body is a perfect Y as he hangs on to truck door and the truck to look at me. “I don’t know. Nice and stuff.”

  “You already said that.” I grip the wheel and the limp seat belt and think there are huge gaps in what he just said. Like pretty. Or special. Or . . . well, that’s the end of the list, but he could have thought of something besides nice. “And I wasn’t dancing with Bodee because I’m nice.”