“Where are you heading looking all hot?” Ava says as I’m pulling on a pair of calf-high black suede boots.
“Nowhere,” I lie. I grab my keys and purse off the buffet table in the hall and stream out the front door.
At four thirty on a Friday afternoon, the garage isn’t exactly hopping. The other guys who work there have taken off for the weekend and mine is the only car being serviced.
“Hi,” I wave at Colin. He’s not in his usual work getup of coveralls, but instead wearing some black jeans and a white t-shirt. He leaps up from the chair he’s sitting on and walks over to me.
“Hey Syd.”
“Um, so thanks for doing this.” I step aside so he can look in the car. He fiddles with something then pops back out.
“No problem. It’s my job,” he shrugs. “Did you want me to take you home?”
“What?”
“Well it might be a couple hours. I could take you home, or somewhere else if you like, and then come and get you when I’m done.”
I swallow. Sure, being in a car with Colin would probably make my life, but the idea of explaining to whoever is home why he’s driving me to and fro...not so fun – not because I don’t have a good explanation, but because whenever I talk about him I turn beat red. Besides, I was kind of hoping to hang around and watch him. God that sounded creepy.
“Nah,” I shake my head. “That’s okay. I can just hang here. If that’s alright?”
“Yeah sure. There are some chairs in the waiting room,” he points to the glassed off area on the other side of the garage. My stomach sinks. “Or you can keep me company if you want. But there might be some work involved.”
“How so?”
“Well for example,” he grins. “Try handing me that wrench?” He points to a tool sitting atop a big black box on my left.
I pick it up and hand it to him. “How did I do?”
“Perfect, well except that was a screwdriver. But who cares. I’ve always wanted an assistant. I try and get Gill, that kid who works here after school to get me stuff all the time, but he’s such a little punk, just shakes his head and walks away.”
For the next hour I perch on the edge of a somewhat dirty chair while watching Colin work. Every once in a while I hand him something he points at, but my assistant duties are thin at best. I have absolutely no idea what he’s doing, but it doesn’t stop me from enjoying the view.
So I don’t look like a complete idiot, I hide behind my eBook reader, sifting through a trashy romance novel I got for free online. But every time I come across a line with even the tiniest bit of sexual innuendo I feel myself blush – like reading something like this in the same room as Colin is the most embarrassing endeavor, ever. I finally have to put it down.
There’s a desk beside me covered in papers and books. Out of the heap I procure a slightly battered copy of The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexander Dumas.
“Is this yours?” I ask Colin when he pokes his head out of the car.
“Uh yeah,” he grins somewhat sheepishly. “I just started it.”
“I love this book.”
“Really?”
“Oh my God, yes. It’s great. I mean it takes forever to get through, but it’s so worth it. There’s just something about Edmond...I don’t know. And the whole revenge thing, I guess I just get it...especially now,” I add under my breath.
“You like it that much, huh?”
“I guess so. How do you like it so far?”
“Oh, um. Actually it’s for a class I’m taking...to be honest it’s a little difficult. There’s just so much to follow. And the language is a bit dated.”
“Oh.”
“I’m more of a Dan Brown or Robert Ludlum kind of guy.”
“I love The Da Vinci Code,” I tell him.
He laughs.
“But Angels and Demons was better,” we both say in unison. I feel goose bumps trickling down my arms. Am I really having a conversation about books with a guy? A guy I like? I didn’t think it was possible. I mean sure I know guys who read...but the last book conversation I had with Zane was about some stupid graphic novel he was trying to get me to read.
He drops something on the ground, and bends down to pick it up.
“The movie is really good.”
“What movie?”
“Oh um, Count of Monte Cristo. Not the old one, well I’ve never seen that one actually. But the one they made in like 2002 with that guy who played Jesus in Passion of the Christ. It’s an awesome movie. Really different than the book, maybe even better. You should check it out. You might like it.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“I actually have the DVD, if you want to borrow it or something sometime.”
“I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” He turns back to my car.
“So you said you’re taking a class?” I say to his back.
“Uh huh. At the university in Albuquerque. Just some upgrade classes right now. I’m moving out there in the Fall though, going full time.”
His words slam into me like a car, my body buckles under their impact. Colin is moving away?
“Oh. That’s great. Good for you,” I say, struggling to make my voice sound normal, not strangled with anguish. It’s what, the end of March now. He’ll be gone by August. That’s maybe four months. I guess I shouldn’t have counted on him hanging around West Plane forever...but I never thought he would go away. What if I never see him again?
“Thanks.”
“Um...so what are you going to study?”
“I don’t know for sure. I was thinking Mechanical Engineering. You know I’ve always been good with cars and engines. Taking things apart, putting them back together. I like figuring out the way things work.”
He turns back to my car and I sag back against the chair, watching him.
It takes him another hour to finish, but when he’s done I’ve finally joined the twenty-first century and have a CD player and iPod hook up in my car. The speakers are so powerful that the seats vibrate when he turns them up full blast.
I hand him the wad of cash I took out from the bank machine, fifty for the stereo and another twenty-five for the work.
“Thanks again,” I say from where I’m sitting in the front seat, fiddling with the shiny buttons on the new stereo console.
He leans over, resting his hands on the roof of the car, and looking in through the open driver’s side window.
“So big plans for the night?”
I shake my head.
“Not even with Grant West?” He grins teasingly.
My mind jolts. Somehow over the past two hours I forgot all about Grant. And I’d actually been hoping that Colin lived under a rock and had no idea about the kiss or the pictures. “Uh no. He’s not my...I mean it was just a stupid kiss that turned into a big ridiculous story. We’re not together.”
“No?”
“Definitely not.”
“Oh well, you’re too good for a guy like that anyways.”
“I am?” The words come out faint. I look up into Colin’s blue eyes. I want to reach out through the car window and hook my finger into one of those curls on his head.
Am I hallucinating or is he staring into my eyes too?
Out on the street a car’s horn blares. Colin blinks, startled, and steps back from me.
“Well yeah,” he says, his voice kind of rough. “If you ask me, the guy looks like a bit of a tool.” He looks away, stares at something near the hood of my car. “And isn’t he ah, older than you? You’re Dad’s strict about that stuff isn’t he?”
“Right.”
He looks down at his watch.
“Well, it’s getting late. I ought to close things up here and get home. Night Sydney.”
> “Night Colin.”
Chapter Twelve
I spend the rest of the weekend hiding at Caroline’s house, morning till night. I lie to my parents and tell them she and I have a big Physics project due on Monday so they don’t make me come home. It’s not home specifically that I’m avoiding. It’s my dad. And not for the reasons you’d expect. Between my mom’s reasoning and the restaurant’s new popularity, he’s been kind of lulled into a gentle calm whenever the subject of Grant comes up. He’s really, actually been quite pleasant.
No, what I’m hiding from is that fact that his restaurant has become so busy over the past few days that he expects me, Ava, and Angelina to pitch in to help with the crowds. I’m not a good waitress, I hate the kitchen, and I drop things when I play busboy. The only role I’m fit to play at any restaurant is hostess, but that’s Tina Moriello’s job. She was hired last year. She’s one of Angelina’s friends and works most weekends. She hates doing anything other than hostessing and I know if Dad tried to put me there and make her serve instead, she’d want to kill me. So it’s safer really, to stay away.
On Monday things at school are finally starting to settle down. I’m pretty sure I have Angelina to thank for this, not that she’ll admit to it. But if I’m not mistaken, she spent all of her energy this weekend trying to convince Michelle and the rest of their squad that Grant West and I have nothing to do with each other.
At first, like everyone else, Angelina was skeptical. She thought I was lying about not dating Grant. But unlike everyone else, she has a better view of me during post school hours. Maybe under Michelle’s orders, or by her own volition, she started spying on me. I caught her on my computer Friday night, probably trying to scout out non-existent emails from Grant, and then on Sunday I found her fooling around with my cell phone. When I caught her, she dropped it and went into the other room, but she forgot to clear the screen she was looking at. So when I grabbed the phone off the couch, I saw that she’d been perusing my past call log.
It might not have been enough to cancel the dating rumors completely, but the fact that Grant hasn’t been calling me, texting me, or emailing me is suspicious enough that now it seems everyone is wondering if he and I are a couple after all. Thank God for small miracles and nosy sisters.
“Well look at that,” Tara pokes me in the side Monday during lunch. We’re walking to the cafeteria with Zane. She’s looking at our regular table, which is empty, and then over to the other side of the room where the popular crowd usually sits. Their table is already starting to fill up.
“Maybe they finally believe you about Grant,” she laughs.
“Looks like it,” I nod.
We both follow Zane to our spot and plunk down into our seats.
I look around the room happily. Besides a handful of freshmen, no one is looking at me, no one is staring. Nobody cares.
Caroline shows up at the table a few minutes later, looking decidedly less blissful than I feel. She pouts toward the spot where Liam is sitting across the room, nestled between two sophomore girls with glossy blonde hair.
“Maybe it’s just not meant to be,” I say the same thing she said to me Friday night after I told her about talking with Colin while he worked on my car. That he’d deemed Grant both a tool and too old for me.
“He and Grant are like the same age,” I groaned. “If he thinks Grant’s too old then he’ll never like me that way because he’ll think he’s too old.”
Thankfully Caroline procured a tube of cookie dough from the fridge downstairs and we massaged our broken hearts with sugar and Sixteen Candles.
Caroline leans over and whispers in my ear. “Guess who’s going on Letterman Friday night?”
I blink at her.
“Grant.”
I narrow my eyes. “I thought we were done with him. You promised.”
“I know, I know. But aren’t you curious?”
“About what?”
“Oh come on, he hasn’t been seen anywhere since that night. It’s like he’s disappeared off the planet.”
“So what?”
“So this is like the first time he’s talking to anyone since you guys kissed. What if he talks about you? What if he finally tells the world you guys aren’t together? What if he apologizes?”
I think about it. In theory, it would be nice. But honestly I’d rather him just keep his mouth shut. People are starting to act normal again, to leave me alone. I’d really rather just stay off their radar. Which means I’d rather Grant never speak or think of me again. Especially not on live television.
“You have no flair for the dramatic.”
“No. I do not.”
***
Despite the fact that the paparazzi can’t seem to find Grant anywhere, over the next few days his face appears everywhere. While the trailers have been popping up randomly for months at movie theaters, it seems the movie studio is finally dolling out a full on promotional attack leading up to the release of Deader than Night in two weeks. You turn on the TV and there’s a trailer of Grant aka – Garth Jones, zombie hunter – slaughtering a horde of gaunt faced, blood smeared zombies on the attack. The girl who plays his love interest, Penelope Lopez or – Princess Serene Wintermore – is back, both her heaving breasts and complete inability to fight for herself intact.
Posters start appearing everywhere too. Bus stops, magazines, malls. He’s haunting me. The only solace I have is that while there’s a general consensus country wide that we’re an item, the fine students of West Plane High School don’t seem to care or believe it anymore. And whether posters of Grant are hanging three stories tall off the sides of buildings in Albuquerque or not, I’m finally starting to feel free of him. Obscurity has never felt so damn good.
***
On Thursday afternoon between fifth and sixth period, Caroline rushes up to me.
“So have you heard? It’s all over the news.”
My stomach automatically plummets. What now? Am I back on TV? Is my Dad giving an interview from the kitchen of the restaurant? Oh God, is my mom showing reporters around our house?
“Why do you look so freaked out?” Caroline stares at me.
“Well let’s just say you haven’t really been the bearer of great news lately,” I glare at her. “Every time you have something new to tell me, my life kind of falls apart a little bit more. So what is it? Just say it. Quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid.”
“Calm down. It’s nothing about you. Summer Stone and that guy she’s dating are apparently engaged.”
“What?”
“I just saw it online.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re kind of like connected.”
“We’re nothing like connected. I kissed her ex boyfriend once, that doesn’t mean I care what she does with her life.”
“Fine, fine,” Caroline sighs. “I wonder what Grant thinks about this.”
“I really don’t care,” I shake my head, relief flooding through my body. Someone really needs to take Caroline’s phone away.
***
On Friday morning Caroline greets me at my locker with a Starbucks cup in one hand and a homemade Raspberry White Chocolate scone in the other. The coffee is normal, Starbucks is on her way to school from home – she usually gets me one if she gets herself one. But baked goods aren’t standard fare.
“What’s this for?” I take it from her hesitantly, searching for the strings that might be attached to it.
“Nothing,” she peers into her locker and goes about her usual business – sorting her books, applying lip-gloss, and checking her hair in her mirror. I take a bite of the scone, which is mildly warm, making the chocolate a tiny bit melted, and oh so perfect. It’s so delicious I nearly moan out loud.
Caroline gl
ances over at me and then turns around, just barely hiding the triumphant smile plastered on her face. I finish eating just as the first bell rings. Caroline and I gather our gym strip and head for PE.
Her step is a little more jaunty than usual, probably because today is the start of our PE dancing unit. For her it’s a dream come true, the sheer chance of being paired with Liam for one or more dances thrills her. For me, on the other hand, it’s a guarantee to stumble, trip, fall, and likely injure several members of the class. Last year I stepped on Greg German’s foot so hard he limped for a day.
In the changing room Caroline and I slip off our jeans and shirts and pull on our gym strips.
“I don’t know why they don’t let us wear regular clothes for this,” I shove my stuff into my gym locker. “It’s not like we’re going to be running laps.”
Caroline ties the laces of her sneakers. “Come on, let’s get out there!”
As we walk across the gym, the glossy floorboards shining with so much glare from the overhead lights that I have to squint my eyes, Caroline starts chatting.
“Want to do something tonight?” she asks.
“Sure.”
“What do you think? We could go to a movie, or we could just chill at your place and play board games, eat ice cream, watch Letterman, and maybe paint our nails.”
I stop walking. “No.”
“What?”
“I’m not going to watch it.”
“Why not?”
“Because, I have no reason to.”
“Come on!”
“No. Everyone else is going bowling tonight. Let’s do that. Then at eleven you’ll go to your house and watch whatever you like, and I’ll go home and go to sleep. Good?”
“Fine.” She stomps off toward the bleachers.
Chapter Thirteen
Bowling ends up being a blast. Zane’s older brother, Gage, is home from college for the weekend so he tags along and we end up playing boys against girls. Despite my being a member of the team – and my highest score out of four games being a 61 – we still win three of the four matches.
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