Boy Shopping

by Nia Stephens

  “Still best friends,” Mark said, yawning.

  “Cool. I need to talk to you.”

  “Now?” Mark still sounded tired, but not shocked. This wasn’t the first Sunday morning that began with his cell phone ringing.

  “Soon.”

  “I’ll come and get you as soon as I’m dressed,” he promised.

  “Great.”

  By the time his Karmann Ghia rattled into her driveway, Kiki was dressed and waiting.

  “We need to talk,” he said as she let herself into his car.

  “Um, yeah,” she admitted. “Here’s what I’ve been thinking—”

  “I love you.”

  “What?” It was a good thing he was driving, not Kiki, because she would have driven straight into a tree. At any point in the last three years, those words would have made Kiki’s heart explode with happiness. But now that she had found someone else, Mark had finally decided that she was the one. She didn’t know what to think about his revelation. She knew how she felt, though: confused.

  “I love you,” he repeated, calmly avoiding all the trees lining Kiki’s street. “I’ve always loved you, I guess. I had never really thought about it until the other morning, when you said what you did about being stalked. It freaked me out completely to think that you could be in danger.”

  “Why didn’t you say something then?” Her confusion was shading to anger. But then she realized that if he had spoken up, she never would have met Lyman, never would have learned the difference between love and passion. But now she did know the difference. It was too late.

  “I almost did, that night, after the fight,” Mark admitted. “But everything had just gotten back to normal, and I didn’t want to risk our friendship, the band, everything we have, if you didn’t feel the same way.”

  “Mark! Did you really think I would say, ‘Nope, not interested, don’t ever speak to me again?’ You didn’t think we’d find a way to work through it?” As soon as she said it, though, Kiki realized that she had feared exactly the same reaction from him. Otherwise, she would have said something herself. She wasn’t being fair to him, but she didn’t think it was fair of him to spring this on her now.

  “I didn’t know what you were going to say. I tried to get Jasmine to tell me what you were thinking, but she weaseled out of every question. But I guess it’s pretty obvious how you feel, huh?” Mark’s voice almost creaked with bitterness.

  “Hey,” Kiki said gently, squeezing his elbow. “You’re my best friend. But I’m not in love with you, not really. I thought I was, until recently, but I was wrong.”

  “Because of this Lyman guy?”

  “Lyman and I have our own problems. That’s why I called you in the first place. But as much as I love you, Mark, I’m not in love. That’s all there is to it.”

  “So what’s the story with him?”

  Kiki hesitated—if she were in Mark’s position, the last thing she would want to hear was her complaining about her romantic problems. But if they were going to be friends for real, just friends, for ever and ever, she had to trust him with just this sort of problem. So she told him about Lyman and his mother as Mark drove around and around Kiki’s neighborhood.

  “Think she’ll send you a cow heart on Valentine’s Day?” he asked when she got to the end of the story.

  Kiki shuddered. “I hope not.” She slapped the dashboard in frustration. “I hate this. I feel this incredible connection with him, but I don’t think I can deal with that woman showing up when we’re having a bite to eat or catching a show. I feel sorry for her, of course, but she was pretty nasty.”

  “I hate to say it, but honestly, Kiki, if you really care for this guy you’ll find a way to deal with it. Unless you think you’re actually in real danger, like she might come after you with a knife, then I think maybe you have to try to handle it.”

  “I know you’re right, but how am I supposed to deal with it?”

  He shrugged, his eyes glued to the road, the way they had been throughout the conversation. “You’re smart. You’ll think of something.”

  When Mark dropped her off at home a little while later, she kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  “You know, if you change your mind,” he said, “I’ll still be here. And I’ll always be your friend.”

  “Thanks, Mark. I know.”

  Kiki went back inside and gave Lyman a call.

  “So where are you going tonight?” Sasha asked a month later, watching Kiki tie on a pair of hiking boots.

  “The ballet?” Jasmine suggested. By now the Pussycat Posse knew Lyman’s eclectic tastes.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “What do you do to get all these surprises?” Jasmine stared jealously at the stack of CDs and DVDs collecting on Kiki’s desk.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “Actually, I would.”

  “Well, the secret is—” Kiki paused for effect.

  “WHAT?” Jasmine, Camille and Sasha all leaned in to hear.

  “The secret is that Lyman and I do pretty much what everyone else does. But we do it creatively.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jasmine groaned.

  “It means that there are benefits to dating someone with research skills.”

  “Huh?” Camille asked.

  “Never mind.” Kiki grinned smugly.

  “So is Mama joining you?” Camille asked.

  “Nope!” Kiki declared happily. Over the last month, Lyman’s mother had gotten more used to the idea of Lyman dating. She still called him all the time, but she never showed up on their dates. Kiki figured Lyman had laid down the law about that. As long as Lyman called as soon as he arrived at her house, as soon as they got to their destination, and to let his mom know he was heading for home, she didn’t stalk them. Much.

  It was a start anyway.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” Lyman said after kissing her hello.

  “How surprising,” Kiki purred.

  “It’s on the back seat.”

  Instead of the thin box containing yet another movie that Lyman thought she had to see, there was a small, round bundle wrapped in silver paper about the size of her fist.

  “What is it?” she asked, snagging the ribbon on her index finger.

  “Open it up.”

  “But anticipation is such a turn-on.” She shook it to see if it rattled. It didn’t. It wasn’t quite the right shape for a jewelry box, and it was too soft. She couldn’t imagine what it was.

  “If that’s how you feel, it can wait.” He reached to take the present back.

  “Are you kidding?”

  She ripped it open, and two long, soft fingerless gloves fell into her lap. They were black and silver striped, and soft as snow on her arms, which they covered almost to her shoulders.

  “They’re gorgeous!”

  “Thank you.” He added, in a fake-pompous voice, “Didn’t I tell you that there were advantages to dating a knitter?”

  “I’m sure you did.” She brushed the side of his face with her gloved palm. “These are really nice. They’re so soft.” She stroked the back of his neck. “So silky.”

  “I hate to say this, but if you don’t want me to pull over right now, you need to stop.”

  “Maybe I want you to pull over right now.” But after tracing the back of his ear with the back of her hand, she folded her hands in her lap. She was too curious about their secret destination to distract him completely.

  “So where are we going?” she asked, once Lyman was breathing normally again.

  “Radnor Lake. If Mom thinks she can find us in the woods, she’s welcome to try, but I think it’ll be pretty private.”

  “Sounds perfect,” she said, settling into her seat.

  “Everything sounds perfect when you’re around. We make beautiful music together, Kiki Kelvin.”

  “It’s true.” She grinned. “We’re a perfect fit.”

  Kiki seems pretty happy, but what if Lyman isn’t the
only boy for her? Turn to page 115 to see what happens if she decides to dump him, or back to page 57 to choose another boy for her.

  You think that Kiki would be better off without Lyman? Read on to find out what happens when she says goodbye.

  Chapter 6

  Very Necessary

  “Look, Lyman,” she said as gently as she could, though she was more than a little annoyed. At least on a cell phone he couldn’t see the face she was making. “You’re a cool guy, and I liked hanging with you, but your mom is crazy.”

  “I know that. But if I could tell you why—”

  “It doesn’t really matter why your mom is such a nut, unless you think she’s going to change. Is she?”

  “Probably not any time soon.”

  “And are you going to tell her to back off?” Kiki asked. She waited for Lyman to respond. When he didn’t she said, “Okay. I’m sorry for you, but I just can’t deal with that kind of crap. I’ve got enough psychos in my life. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye.”

  Kiki sighed, glad she didn’t have to do the whole can-we-still-be-friends thing. Clearly, she was doomed to be alone.

  “Learn to like being single,” she told her reflection as she washed up. Without makeup, she noticed how tired she looked— her dark circles were beginning to look like bruises. “Being alone is good. Really. A little alone time is exactly what you need.”

  She turned off her cell phone and went straight to bed.

  The next day she left her phone off. She would tell the Pussycats the whole horror story on Monday. Meanwhile she was going to learn to enjoy being alone. She locked herself in her bedroom and did piles of homework, had pizza with her parents, and finally changed out of her pajamas and into jeans.

  “Where are you headed?” her father asked when he saw her snagging the keys to her bike lock from the kitchen junk drawer.

  “The Wentworth playground.”

  “Should I even ask why?”

  “I’m going to write,” she said, showing him the spiral-bound notebooks in her backpack.

  “You have school in the morning. You need to be home by ten-thiry.”

  “Fine, Dad. Whatever.”

  She pedaled through the darkness, ignoring the harsh bite of autumn wind whipping through her dreadlocks.

  Once she got to the lower school’s playground, she ignored the swings and monkey bars, heading straight for the tree house. When she was small, she never got to play up there. The popular kids, which included Camille and Sasha even then, were always hogging it. She and Mark would be in a corner somewhere, making up some complicated game of “let’s pretend,” where they were magical scientist rock stars, or something.

  As if thinking about him was enough to make him appear, Kiki heard his car wheezing before it rolled into sight, pulling into the parking lot before it collapsed into silence.

  She clicked off her flashlight and watched Mark get out of the car, grabbing his elderly gray backpack before gently shutting the door.

  “Hey,” she called, spooking him badly as he climbed the tree house ladder.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked when he’d climbed in and joined Kiki, who was leaning against a tree branch.

  “Same thing you’re doing, probably. Writing.”

  “Yeah.” He took a notebook out of his bag, but he didn’t write a word. Neither did Kiki. They just stared at each other in the dark.

  “So, about the other night—”

  “It’s okay, Mark. You can go out with Jasmine if you want.” Knowing that Jasmine wasn’t interested made it easier for Kiki to say, but it was more or less true.

  “That’s not what I was going to say.”

  “I know.”

  “Then what was I going to say?” He couldn’t have sounded more sarcastic, but Kiki was used to that from him. He always got sarcastic or mean when he felt cornered. He had said some of his funniest lines ever when other kids were teasing him, even back in kindergarten. It spooked Kiki sometimes to realize how long she had known him.

  “You were going to say that you were sorry if you were rude last night about Lyman,” Kiki told him. “But you aren’t really sorry—you were just freaked out, especially since I saw you with Jasmine when I was out with him, and seeing the two of you obviously freaked me out. But since Lyman and I aren’t going to keep seeing each other, that part doesn’t really matter, and I wanted to let you know that you are free to date Jasmine if you want. Not that I could stop you anyway.”

  “Okay, maybe you did know what I was going to say.”

  “Get a clue, Mark—I always know what you’re going to say. Well, almost always.”

  He shrugged. “We’ve known each other practically forever.”

  “Yeah. Maybe we’re psychically linked.” Kiki knew she sounded more than a little bitter.

  “I don’t know. I have a hard time reading you sometimes.”

  “I’m not a book, Mark!” Kiki yelled, as all of her mixed-up feelings about Mark flooded through her. “You don’t have to read me. If you want to know what I’m thinking, ask! I’m right here!”

  Kiki could see his cheeks turning red, even in the moonlight.

  “Fine! What are you thinking, Kiki? Why are you screaming at me?”

  “You really want to know?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She just kissed him. It was nothing like kissing Lyman for the first time. This wasn’t a soft, slow exploration. She bruised her lips against his, nipped his tongue hard enough to make him cry out. For a second he just sat there, then she felt an arm tightening around her waist while his other hand plunged into her hair, holding her closer to him.

  “I guess I should ask what’s on your mind a little more often, huh?” he asked a few minutes later as they angled for a more comfortable position.

  “It’s better than asking out Jasmine to see if you can get her to tell you how I feel.”

  “She figured it out, huh? I thought I was being subtle.”

  “No, she thinks you’re gay. I figured it out, ’cause I know you that well.” She didn’t mention that she had figured it out about ten seconds before she said it, though it seemed obvious now. Even if Mark were interested in Jasmine, she wouldn’t waste a lot of energy being nice to him. And Mark was more than a little shy about asking girls out—otherwise he and Kiki would have gotten together a long time before.

  “Oh yeah? What am I thinking?”

  She kissed him again and started to unbutton his shirt. His eyes widened when he realized her intention. He hesitated for only a moment, then his hands caressed and explored her. We’re really doing this! screamed in Kiki’s brain, until she couldn’t think at all.

  Being with Mark was like discovering a whole new country hidden in her bedroom closet: perfectly familiar, perfectly safe, yet completely new and exciting. Kiki really did feel close to Mark in a whole new way, really felt she understood him on a whole new level. She thought she might cry when it was over, but instead she found herself laughing, her head pillowed on his chest. To her surprise, he joined in, both of them giggling like a pair of kindergartners.

  “What are you laughing at?” Kiki asked when she had caught her breath.

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “Really?”

  He planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Nothing, really. I just thought it was funny that you really did know exactly what I was thinking.”

  Kiki doesn’t regret dumping Lyman—do you? Turn to page 107 to see what would happen if she decided to stay with him, or to page 57 to choose another boy.

  Chapter 4

  Jacob

  Kiki stayed up late working on her e-mail, distracted while she typed by the picture on his HelloHello profile. Jacob Young! What kind of mind lay behind his honey-brown eyes, which Kiki remembered from the days before he started wearing sunglasses. And that face! It could have been carved from the same mahogany as her father’s most prized African mask, polished to the same satiny smoothness. In the morning her mother had to shake her t
wice before she crawled out of bed and over to her computer. There was an e-mail from Jacob, just two lines long: “What are you doing Friday night? Let’s hit the Trip-Hop Triple Threat.”

  Friday was the one night Kiki was almost always off—the band didn’t play on Fridays unless they had a show, and since their contract allowed them to travel only one weekend a month during the school year, they played big gigs in town and, very occasionally, opened for a bigger act at the Ryman or Starwood.

  It annoyed Kiki to admit that she didn’t have plans, but it was the only night she did have free for the next couple of weeks, so she e-mailed Jacob to say he could pick her up at 7:30. She was a little hurt that he hadn’t spent more time on his message to her, but those two lines were the most anyone had gotten out of Jacob Young since they started ninth grade, so she decided she ought to be thankful.

  An hour later, Kiki passed Jacob in the hallway as she hurried to English class. She smiled, waved, and almost said something, but his face was just as expressionless behind his sunglasses as it always was. Kiki thought he actually sped up a little after they passed one another, as if he was afraid she would run after him.

  “Did I just get dissed?” she asked Sasha, who was jogging along with her. Their English classroom was a long way from homeroom.

  Sasha’s long violet curls and her lacy black skirt streamed behind her. Sometimes Kiki wondered if that was the difference between goth and punk: she and Sasha both dressed in black most of the time, but Kiki rarely wore anything covered in lace.

  “I don’t think so. I mean, why would he do that after he asked you out?” Sasha asked, waving hello to Dr. Bonner, their AP European History teacher, as they passed the history wing.

  “I don’t know, but that felt like a diss.”

  “Maybe he didn’t see you?” Sasha sounded doubtful.

  “Maybe he’s secretly blind. At least that would explain the sunglasses.”

  “Maybe he’s mute? Then he’d have to meet girls online.”