“You hang out with Matty all the time,” she said. “What do you think about this business with him and Anabelle?”
“What business?” Thank God, Jonah thought. This is just about Matt and Anabelle’s constant fighting. No creepy details about Jeanie’s love life with Skeeve.
“Them sticking together,” she said. “Longdistance.”
“I don’t know. I mean, he loves her. He doesn’t want to lose her.”
“They’re just out of high school.” Jeanie gathered the top of the popcorn bag and twisted it up as if wringing it dry. “It’s not gonna last. He shouldn’t expect that it will.”
“Well, it probably won’t. But I don’t think any of us could tell them that. Isn’t it something they have to figure out for themselves?” This was what he believed, and he felt wise and grown up having Jeanie consult him. But he wondered if he should’ve said something like, Yeah, they should totally end it now.
Jeanie pursed her lips into a flat line. “Anabelle’s so ... nice.” She said nice as if it were a dirty word.
Anabelle’s niceness was what Jonah liked most about her. It was what sometimes made him wish she were his girlfriend. He couldn’t help but wonder if dating a non-needy, together girl like Anabelle would’ve kept him from sleeping with girls he didn’t really care about. But he didn’t want Jeanie to know he had any of those feelings. “Yeah, she’s nice,” he said, nodding. “Too nice.”
“I hate to say this about my own son,” Jeanie said, looking pleased that Jonah was agreeing with her, “but I think he probably doesn’t deserve someone so nice. So nice and innocent.” Again, she emphasized innocent as if it were something to be ashamed of.
Because he didn’t want Jeanie to know he respected that quality in Anabelle—even envied it—he continued along the path of Anabelle-bashing. “No, I know what you mean,” he said, feeling good to be able to publicly deny feelings that he was afraid had been becoming obvious. “There’s something about her that’s so naive. She never drinks with us or smokes up or anything. And curse words are, like, not in her vocabulary.”
“Well, that’s part of what concerns me,” Jeanie said. “I’m afraid Matty’s corrupting her. Exposing her to his vices.”
That was something Jonah had wondered before, himself. He’d thought that if he were ever going to date Anabelle, it couldn’t just be a one-night stand—it would have to be serious. And he’d have to give up weed and booze. Plus, more importantly, he’d have to give up his best friend. If he were going to make a move, he’d have to make sure it was absolutely the right thing.
“Actually,” Jeanie continued, her voice dry and a little shrill, “what’s really freaking me out is, I keep thinking maybe Matty’s doing that stuff too much. But what am I gonna say? Quit? Right. Not when he knows I’ve been just as bad. When I do it with the two of you all the time.”
“But it’s wicked fun when you join us,” Jonah told her, trying to get calm, flirty Jeanie back. “That’s why you’re our favorite mom.”
“I am? Really?” She pulled at the wisps of hair at the back of her neck. “God, you’re sweet. Men my age aren’t that sweet. What happens between eighteen and thirty-five? I’d like to know.” She scratched her thigh, revealing a thin web of veins, which Jonah thought was beautiful. Like blue lace.
Don’t let her catch you looking, Jonah told himself. She’ll think you’re a perv. He glanced up at the strings of spaghetti stuck to the ceiling, which he and Matt had thrown there a few days ago in an attempt to see if they were done. They were all clumped together, with one dry strand dangling down, threatening to drop.
When he turned back to Jeanie, she was looking at him expectantly, as if still waiting for an answer to her seventeen-to-thirty-five question. Jonah wanted to say something witty, but the words weren’t coming, so he pointed at the giant bag of popcorn. “Hey,” he said a little too loudly, “when’re we gonna eat that stuff already? I think I can handle half of it, but I don’t know about you.”
Jeanie laughed, slapping his back. “Yeah, you’re right. Help me bring it in there?” She stuck her thumb out to the side, toward the living room.
“Sure ... okay.” It was one thing to shoot the shit with Jeanie alone in the kitchen. Another thing entirely to move it to the living room. That constituted actual hanging out. As in, awkwardness if Matt or Lexi came home. Well, it’s just eating popcorn, Jonah told himself. There’s really nothing wrong with that. He dragged the bag across the tiled floor, through the doorway, and onto the carpet.
Jeanie sat down on a small cushion that was on the floor and leaned against the bottom of the couch.
Jonah tossed off his shoes—his new favorites, the ones he’d stolen from the bowling alley—then pulled a cushion off the couch and sat a few feet away from Jeanie. He reached into the trash bag and ate a fistful of popcorn. Some of the pieces were light and fluffy—but most of them tasted a little burnt.
“How is it?” Jeanie asked hopefully.
“Pretty good!” Jonah said, nodding vigorously. He knew he was overdoing the enthusiasm.
“Aw, it sucks, doesn’t it.” Jeanie fished out a handful for herself and lifted a few kernels into her mouth with the tip of her tongue. “Crap, they really are burnt, aren’t they. I knew I’d left a few batches on too long, but I didn’t think it’d all be this bad.” She threw what was left back into the bag and kicked it. A single kernel bounced out onto the floor.
“It’s okay,” Jonah said. “I like it like this. Reminds me of camping with scouts. We could never get it quite right over a real fire. It’s actually kind of a nostalgic taste. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy—like I’m about to crawl into a tent with a sleeping bag and stay up all night talking about girls.”
“I’m such a bad cook,” Jeanie said, pushing her head into the couch. “All I can do is microwave stuff.”
“You make a mean baked potato in that microwave,” Jonah assured her.
“Whatever,” she said. “I bet your mom knows how to cook.”
“Yeah, but it’s all health food,” Jonah said. “Everything tastes like vitamins and cardboard. Even her cookies have to be full of flaxseed or some weirdness.”
“I don’t even know what a flack seed is!”
“Trust me, Jeanie, you don’t want to.” Jonah reached for more popcorn. “Anyway, this stuff isn’t bad. Here, I’ll eat the whole thing.” He leaned over the bag and shoved popcorn wildly into his mouth, Cookie Monster—style.
“Stop, stop!” Jeanie said with a snort. She covered her face with one hand and grabbed Jonah’s shoulder with the other. “I can’t believe that noise just came out of me!” She gave his shoulder a squeeze before letting go.
Jeanie could get pretty touchy-feely when she talked, but she’d never touched Jonah quite like that before, holding on for so long. What was that about? Probably nothing. He kept chowing on the popcorn, pretending he hadn’t noticed. “Don’be ’barrassed,” he told her. “I’m da pig! Juss loo aa me!”
“Come on!” Jeanie slapped the floor, laughing her head off. “I don’t want to see you blimp out! Gotta keep that slim figure!” She touched his hand briefly.
What was going on here? Did she want something from him? Jonah dragged out his chewing, telling himself he was only imagining things. As he swallowed the last bite, Jeanie quieted down. She gave him an intense look and pinched his big toe through his sock.
Time seemed to freeze so much, he could practically feel the popcorn stop moving down his throat. That whole thing, with the look and the toe pinch, was probably the hottest thing anyone had ever done to him. It was sexier than sex. There was no way Jeanie didn’t intend for it to feel that way, right?
She lay down on the floor, repositioning the cushion under her head, still giving Jonah that look.
Should I give her the look back? he wondered. No, that would be crazy. Probably, he should just go home. But Jeanie was the grown-up here; she’d make sure things didn’t get out of control. Right?
&nb
sp; Just keep your face away from hers, Jonah told himself, and everything will be fine. He lay down on the floor, with his feet by Jeanie’s head and his head by her feet. He folded his cushion and slid it under his neck.
“You’re maybe the funniest guy I know, Jonah,” Jeanie said, adding a grin to the look. She kicked him lightly in the chest.
The compliment made Jonah nervous, and he wasn’t sure how to respond. Instead of saying anything, he caught her foot and removed her slipper. What now? he thought. What do I do with my best friend’s mom’s bare foot?! He brought her toes to his nose and sniffed.
“That probably stinks,” Jeanie said.
Jonah rubbed his thumbs into the arch of her foot. “It does,” he said. “A little. But it’s a foot.”
Jeanie pulled his ankles into the crook of her arm and cradled his feet against her cheek. “Why are all the good men gone?” she asked.
This is wrong, Jonah thought. It’s wrong for me to love the feeling of her warm hands through my socks, to love running my fingers over her bumpy toenails. But he didn’t stop massaging her foot. “What do you mean?” he asked, aware now that he was returning the look she’d been giving him.
“Oh, just that all the good ones,” she said, wiggling her big toe in his stubble. “By my age? They’re all taken. They’ve been snatched up by women who were much smarter than me.”
“What about Steve?” Jonah asked, hoping she’d say something mean about him.
Jeanie leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, Steve’s all right,” she said. “I guess we just don’t want the same things anymore. Or maybe we never wanted the same things. I don’t know.”
“I totally know what you mean,” Jonah said, clasping her foot with both hands. “That’s always how it goes with me, too. It’s like, you can hook up with someone, and it’s wicked fun and everything, but then later on it turns into something else. Like, them wanting you to be more for them than you can be.”
“Hooking up is the easy part. But finding someone you really connect with?” She pulled on the tip of his sock. “That’s hard.”
Jonah’s breath stopped for a second. I really should go now, he thought. And he kept repeating those words in his head as Jeanie sat up, as she tossed her cushion next to his head, and as she lowered herself back down, propping herself up on the cushion.
Jonah flipped onto his stomach, mirroring her position. Their faces were dangerously close together.
She pushed the side of her arm gently into his. He pushed back. Uh-oh, he thought. What’s happening?
“Thanks, Jonah,” Jeanie said.
“For what?”
“Making me laugh tonight.” She pushed harder against his arm, smiling. Two long dimples framed her mouth.
“You know what the best part about your face is?” Jonah said, praying that Matt or Lexi wouldn’t walk in anytime soon.
“What?”
“Your parentheses.”
“My parentheses?”
He reached over and traced each of her dimples with his finger.
Jeanie laughed quietly and lowered her head, hair falling over her eyes.
“You know what’s the best part of your face?” she whispered.
Jonah shook his head. He couldn’t believe she was playing along.
“Your semicolon.”
“I didn’t know I had one of those.”
Jeanie pushed her finger into the skin just below his eye and then made a hook below it.
Jonah knew she was touching the two moles at the top of his cheek. “Well, you’ve also got this,” he said. “But it’s pretty well hidden.” He placed his finger at the bridge of Jeanie’s nose and slid it down to the tip. He finished with a dot on her lips.
“You’re right,” Jeanie said, giggling. “That exclamation point can be an elusive son of a bitch.”
You have to stop this, Jonah told himself. She’s not going to. So you have to.
“You know,” Jeanie whispered. “There’s a sneaky one hiding on you, too. Let’s see if I can fish it out.” Her eyes wandered over his face as if reading a map. “Close your eyes,” she said.
Jonah shut his lids. What is she going to do? he thought. And why was she taking so long?
Suddenly he felt her touching the corner of his mouth. With her lips.
And then the center, then the other corner.
Three dots in a row. That was called a ... what the hell was it called?
“Give up?” Jeanie asked.
“No, I’m, um, I’m thinking,” Jonah stammered.
“I can do it again,” she said.
“No, no, you don’t have to. I remember.”
“You can open your eyes now.”
“I know. But this is helping me picture it.” He didn’t want to look, to see evidence of who he’d just kissed. “You know,” he said, opening his eyes but keeping them off Jeanie, “I’ll have to get back to you on that one.” He grabbed his bowling shoes and ran for the door. “I’m sure I’ve got a book at home with the answer!” he yelled on his way out.
Jonah had only gotten to the end of the Fletchers’ driveway when he heard the scream.
It was deep and gravelly—kind of like a roar—and it definitely came from a female. The sound struck him in his gut, playing into all of his childhood fantasies of saving a damsel in distress. But he wasn’t sure it was a role he wanted now that it could become a reality.
He tiptoed down the street in the direction of the scream, concocting a plan for how to deal with the attacker. Problem was, he didn’t have anything remotely resembling a weapon. Maybe he could throw pumpkin seeds in the guy’s eyes and then kick him in the nuts. Kicking in the nuts would be key.
But once he rounded the curve in the road, he saw that the screamer—who was now screaming again—was alone. And wearing an oversize red hoodie with the hood pulled all the way up. Had to be Anabelle. She’d been wearing that thing nonstop. The other day he’d put her in a head-lock and made her admit it belonged to Tobin Wood. Why did girls always have a thing for dopey guys like that?
Jonah caught up with Anabelle and fell in step with her. “Well, that was scary,” he said.
“Where’d you come from?” she asked, mildly hysterical.
“I heard you from back there,” he said. “I was at Matt’s.”
She turned, gave him a funny look. “Matt was with me.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, hoping she didn’t notice the slight crack in his voice. “That’s why I was leaving. Because he wasn’t there.”
Anabelle pulled a leaf off of a sea-rose bush along the side of the road and shredded it as she walked. “He dropped me in his driveway, then went driving off somewhere. Said he needed to think.”
“What’s going on?” Jonah asked.
“Stuff.”
“Apparently. You wanna tell me about it?”
“Not really.”
“You know what?” he said. “This is bullshit.”
“What is?” Anabelle halted in her tracks, looked up at him all glassy-eyed.
“Stuff with you and Matt is getting worse and worse and you keep pretending like nothing’s wrong. But something is obviously very wrong. And every time I try to tell you I’m there for you, you push me away. I give up.”
“Fine,” she said. “We can talk if you want to talk. But not like this. Not where we could run into people we know. We have to go somewhere. Sit down. In private.”
“Okay, yeah, we can do that.” Man, were things even worse than he’d thought? Was Matt hurting her? He’d kill him if he was. Jonah had never been in a fistfight, but was certain he could kick Matt’s ass if it came to that. “I know the perfect place,” he told her. “And it’s Monday, so nobody will be there.”
WhirrrlyWorld was a cinch to break into. All you had to do was crawl under the hole in the chain-link fence over by the Salt ‘n’ Pepper Shake-ahhh! He and Matt had done it countless times during off-season, when they cut class to smoke up.
“Ladie
s first,” he told Anabelle when they got to the hole.
“Wait,” she said, “I have to finish this.” She was eating a rosehip Jonah had picked for her on their way. He’d told her it was jam-packed with vitamin C, that maybe it would make her feel better. She’d been taking tiny little bites, making an ooh-this-is-sour face as she chewed. It was supercute.
When Anabelle had polished off her rosehip, she looked around as if gearing herself up for a heist, then wriggled her way through the hole. Jonah followed. They walked past the WhirrrlyWind roller coaster, the Sail to the Starrrs! pirate ship, and into the kiddie area.
The carousel had this way of looking magical in the moonlight—as if it were a place where dreams could come true. Or be trampled by all those horses. Maybe that’s what Jonah loved so much about it. That it felt both exciting and dangerous.
Jonah leaped onto the platform and reached out to give Anabelle a hand. “Anywhere you like,” he told her, as if he were a host at a restaurant.
She picked a mid-gallop purple horse with a yellow mane. Jonah got on the whinnying red-and-black one beside it.
“So,” he said, once they’d settled into their saddles, “you ready to talk?”
Anabelle fidgeted with her horse’s reins, her thumbs poking through holes in the wrists of her hoodie. “Matt’s been...”
Just say it, Jonah thought. Just say that he’s been hitting you and the boy is so dead.
She wrapped one of the reins tightly around her hand. “He’s been saying he thinks there’s something going on between us.”
Hold on, this was about him? Jonah leaned his head against the brass pole. It was cold. So cold. But he stayed there anyway, the metal freezing his brain.
What do you say, what do you say? he thought. He could admit that he was attracted to her, that he found her cute and sweet. But then what? He had this feeling that if he actually got the chance to kiss her, he’d find her too cute and too sweet. Or was that just what he was telling himself because he felt wrong about kissing Matt’s girlfriend? Well, he’d almost just done that with Matt’s mom and he didn’t seem to have a problem with it. No, that wasn’t true. He had a big problem with it. God, what was happening to him? Didn’t he have any morals?
The View from the Top Page 4
