The Unofficial Zack Warren Fan Club

by J. C. Isabella

  “Great, isn’t it?” Molly beamed at the house. “It was built in the early nineteen hundreds. The last owners restored it, so we’ll only have a few things to fix or change.”

  “Awesome.” I gave her one of the charming smiles I reserved for ogling girl. I don’t know what possessed me to throw away my spring break for relocating to hell.

  Chloe knew I was faking enthusiasm and played along. “Totally.”

  “Where are all the people?” I asked.

  “It’s Sunday.” Molly said, as if that answered everything.

  “And that means?” Chloe inquired.

  “Everything’s closed.” She jogged up the porch steps to open the front door.

  “Were doomed.” I said.

  Chloe sounded hopeful. “We’ve got the truck.”

  “Wrong, I’ve got the truck.” I wouldn’t mind sharing as long as she could handle my truck, without running anything important over…like people or the dog. Chloe had only ever driven the Mini Cooper. But then my act would be blown if I handed her my keys.

  “We’ve got to work on your people skills, Warren.”

  “Ha, forget it.”

  “Maybe you should be nice to me, and then I’ll be nice to you.” Simple, grade school logic. She’s bringing out the big guns.

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “This is about getting along for our parents.” We started for the house. Kirk wandered over to a tree and flopped in a shady spot next to a hammock covered in stringy moss and leaves.

  “I know, but I can honestly say I am enjoying one thing, Baker.”

  “What?”

  “Watching you suffer though this week will be worth the pain.”

  She stuck her tongue out, then, when I wasn’t paying attention, she stuck her foot out.

  I’d hate to ever admit, that I went down face first in the dirt.

  “Oops.” She gasped with surprise. She probably didn’t think she’d be able to knock me all the way down. In my defense, my guard was down. Way down. As in, I watching her ass.

  “You better run fast, Baker!” I shot to my feet, really wasn’t that mad, but I had to keep up the act.

  “I’m so glad you two are getting along.” Molly said as I ran past her after she opened the front door. Sometimes she was too oblivious for her own good. This was one of those times, thank god.

  “Where’s my room?” Chloe didn’t stop to look around.

  “Up the stairs to the left.” She shouted after her. “I’m going to use the one without the bathroom for my art studio.”

  I flew up the stairs, right on Chloe’s heels. Catching her wasn’t a problem. It was the part afterwards I worried about. It would be so easy to snag her from behind and…then what? A few ideas came to mind. They involved figuring out what her lip-gloss tested like. Fruity? Sugary? Would our lips stick together with the shiny goo? Or would it just dissolve as I kissed her more thoroughly than she’d ever been kissed before?

  Chloe ran into the closest bedroom, and I forced myself to run past.

  I had to take one for the team. Kissing Chloe wasn’t an option.

  Feeling more than pissed, I went into the room next door, and decided whoever painted it had been blind or insane. It was bright orange. So bright I wondered if it was possible for paint to burn my retinas.

  The sound of sneakers squeaking to a stop brought my head up. Chloe rocked back on her heels in the doorway. “Hi.”

  I rubbed a streak of dirt on my shin. “Come to apologize?”

  “Nope,” she took a moment to survey our surroundings. I surveyed her. She looked too damn good. This morning when I saw her walking toward the van, I wondered if Chloe realized just how attractive she was. Wearing short, frayed shots and a white tank top. I could see the lace of her bra through the thin material. I told myself not to stare. But I didn’t like that other people could see her bra. I wanted to tell her to change, only I didn’t have a say in what she wore. However, if anyone got to close to her, they’d have to answer to me. If only she knew how many sticky situations I’d gotten her out of.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad for the air conditioning.” I said. Her nose was pink on the tip, as were the tops of her shoulders. I’d make sure she put on sun block next time we went outside next time.

  “Yeah. It’s hot. This room is nice.”

  “I guess. If you like orange.” I rolled my eyes. Sun block? Since when did I start worrying about her getting skin cancer?

  “Not as big as the room I found.”

  “Did you call it?” I wasn’t going to take advantage of her, but it was too easy to bail from the orange hell.

  “No, was I supposed to?” she blinked innocently, slipping in to inspect the room.

  Her loss was my gain, so I took advantage and shot down the hall in a very grand moment of stupidity.

  “Dibs!” She screamed.

  Shit. That girl was smart. “Chloe, when I get my hands on you…”

  “You’ll what?”

  I shut the door to muffle the sound of her laughter. Getting my hands on her would be a bad idea. So I decided to familiarize myself with my new jail cell. It had white crown molding and a window that looked out the side of the house facing the tree with the hammock.

  It was almost two times the size times the size of the dorm I shared with Kyle, and void of bright orange paint. All in all, it was a nice room, had wood floors, plenty of space, with a walk-in closet.

  And it was wallpapered.

  In camouflage.

  Chapter 7

  Chloe

  Four hours later I felt sweaty and sticky and gross. My hair was starting to fall out of its ponytail, my shirt sticking to my back. I went into the sunroom to wallow in misery alone. It was on the back of the house, far from the commotion out front.

  The wood floors were painted a soft glossy white, and the windows draped with silky blue fabric. I pulled the cords on the drapes to open them wide, staring at a sky heavy with thunderclouds.

  The previous owners left some of their furniture, like the big whicker bench I sat on to watch the storm roll in. Most of the stuff was really nice. A few pieces were original to the house. I found a gilded mirror wrapped in an old sheet in my closet. Mom had Glenn put it in the living room to be hung above the fireplace.

  At the sound of footsteps I froze, hoping the person walked right by my hiding place.

  “Nice.” Zack sauntered in, eyeing the room. “Very airy.”

  I didn’t respond.

  He took a long drink from a bottle of water I’d left sitting on the window ledge.

  I glared. “That’s mine.”

  “Finders keepers, Baker.”

  I jumped off the bench and snatched it from him, finishing off the rest of the water, tying not to think that his lips just touched the same place.

  We fell silent, watching a line of dark thunderclouds hovering over the grassy field behind the house. It really was beautiful, and flat. You could put a car in neutral and leave it without worrying about it going anywhere, except maybe down. The green looked squishy, and did I mention, swampy?

  I ran into the living room, tearing through one of the boxes I’d yet to haul up the stairs and found my camera, back into the sunroom, pushed open the French doors and walked to the edge of the porch. The sunset peeked between the black clouds and over the treetops in the distance, shedding a warm orangey glow. I snapped a few pictures.

  “You like photography?” Zack came out onto the porch.

  “I love it.” And I let my guard down, just a little. “When I look through the lens it’s magical, another world where you can freeze time and capture images the human eye misses.”

  Zack gave me a genuine smile. There was nothing behind it, no humor or mocking, no irritation. It was mind melting. Thinking coherently afterwards was near impossible. “Cool.”

  I held out the camera. “You want to try?”

  “No, that’s alright.”

  “Come on, it�
��s not hard.”

  He stepped forward and took the camera. Facing the sunset he snapped a picture.

  “I guess it does look different.” He handed it back to me. “There’s a lot I don’t know about you, Baker.”

  “You’ll have plenty of time to get to know me.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  I was about to take his picture before he noticed, when I spotted something blue out of the corner of my eye. “We have a pool!”

  “That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say all day.”

  We went back into the house once it stared raining and found our parents making dinner, Glenn’s famous baked chicken.

  I didn’t see how the chicken could be famous. He’d only cooked it for us once before.

  Zack and I were given the lovely task of unloading boxes marked for the kitchen while the chicken and veggies had a party in the oven.

  Once I found the plates, and the bird was golden-brown, we ate standing up. Our new dining room table was in a box still unassembled. Glenn’s table from his house was too small, and the one at my house covered with paint from mom’s late night dates with a brush and easel.

  Glenn asked my mom to keep regular hours. Sleep at night and paint during the day, unless it was going to drive her crazy. It would, eventually. But she was too occupied with her new husband to care about pottery and paintings. I could tell by how happy she was, and giggly. And my mom is so not the giggly type.

  “How are things going?” mom passed out napkins.

  “Good,” Zack said automatically.

  “Just good?” Glenn asked as he ate a drumstick. He also had other rules, like no painting in undesignated areas, being the big one, and no peanuts in the house, since he is severely allergic. Mom was going to have to get used to having an art studio, which suited me just fine. I could walk around and not worry about bumping into something wet and colorful. I’ve ruined more cute outfits that way. She was also discovering her love of almond butter, as opposed to peanut butter. Glenn on the other hand, was not allowed to host poker games on weeknights, display all of his golf trophies, or leave clubs and balls lying around the house.

  If these rules weren’t set it would look like the sporting goods store got busy with the arts and crafts department. Resulting in sparkly golf balls and nine-iron yard art.

  “Do you have any problems, objections?” Mom leaned against the counter.

  “We have one small problem.” I said. It was better to be truthful, considering I have a strict no lying policy when it came to my mom. I just couldn’t.

  “Really, only one?” she looked skeptical, knowing I didn’t want to come right out with the reason. “I thought you would have a million. New house, town, and family…even though you are both away at school.”

  “It’s the location.” Glenn laughed, the kitchen light reflected off his head.

  “Yeah,” Zack said.

  “Two weeks isn’t a lot of time to work with, and this was the biggest house in our price range.” Mom said.

  Glenn nodded. “Before I asked your mom to marry me, I had my eye on a condo. This worked out better then we imagined. We just hope uprooting you two won’t lead to your resenting us or hating it here.”

  Zack and I shared a look. We had an agreement, and it was to let our parents be happy.

  “We don’t hate it and we’re not mad at you.” I said, smiling because this wasn’t super permanent. After college, I’d get a job and move out. No big deal.

  “We’d never resent you guys for wanting to be happy.” Zack took a long drink of his iced tea. I felt myself admiring how well he covered his distaste for our situation.

  After dinner we went upstairs pretending to talk about a funny movie. Knowing that our parents were watching, waiting for anything to give away our displeasure.

  I had confidence in our acting abilities. In no time mom and Glenn would give up thinking we were anything but fine with our new home and each other.

  Once we were out of sight we dropped the act and went to our rooms.

  I sat on the floor going through boxes and unpacking my clothes, not realizing how much stuff I’d accumulated over the years. I had a big black garbage bag filled with junk—old makeup, holey socks, and obsolete spiral notebooks.

  It felt liberating to clean my closet out, again.

  I did some reorganizing when I packed, but mostly I dumped the contents into boxes. I figured it would be a lot easier to decide exactly what I wanted to get rid of once I became familiar with my new room. Really, I enjoyed the extra space and found my new room to be a major improvement over the last…if only the walls were a little thicker.

  The sounds of a popular band pulsed through the wall separating our rooms. Zack was setting up his computer. Before he turned on the music I’d heard the system booting up.

  It was actually kind of lonely knowing Zack, who was a pretty okay person, though I swear on my dog that I wouldn’t admit it, was shut in his room. We could be hanging out, miserable in our new living arrangements together. After all, we had summers, winter breaks, and all the other major holidays here.

  Not that I wanted to hang out with Zack. But I didn’t know anyone in this place. I had no friends, no enemies…except for him.

  That’s even if I could classify him as my enemy anymore.

  How are you supposed to cope if you can’t commiserate with someone until the situation improves?

  Normally I’d go to my mom and we’d invest in a tub of mint ice cream. Share some feelings. Regret eating so much crap. It really worked in the past.

  Zack didn’t strike me as a mint ice cream, feelings sharing kind of guy.

  My cell phone rang. I hit the speaker button. “Hello?”

  “Chloe!” Lana shouted. “God, it feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”

  “It’s been two days.” It was good to hear her voice, and it made me want to cry a little. I hadn’t shed a tear yet. I’d been shocked, but now that the reality has fully sunk in, I wanted to be back in my old room, or at least at the dorms. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I had a car. But my mom didn’t make a lot being an artist, and I wasn’t a big fan of driving to begin with. So I mostly walked everywhere. In high school I lived three blocks from the school. Now in college, everything I needed was on campus. I borrowed Lana’s car if I really needed to get anything.

  “How is it, have you come to blows yet?” she asked.

  “With Zack?”

  “Duh.”

  “No, no physical violence.” I finished hanging up my clothes and started to make my bed. No longer feeling the need to cry, but still sad. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

  “Really?’

  “Yeah, I was prepared for worse.” Much worse. I’d put on my invisible suit of armor and readied for World War Three.

  “That’s good news. What changed?”

  “We want our parent’s to be happy.”

  “Suffer in silence, you’re brave.” She snickered. “At least he’s nice to look at.”

  “True, it does help.”

  She lowered her voice, layering on a thickly, scandalous tone. “Just don’t get in the bed of his truck unless you mean business. I hear he keeps an air mattress in it.”

  “Lana, it isn’t nice to spread rumors.”

  “Every girl knows it’s true.”

  “Do you have proof?” Lana was a little gullible when it came to the rumor mill, and usually went with what the rest of the crowd believed. Her assumptions aside, she was pretty cool. We shared a love of bargain shopping and late night trips to the 7-11 for slurpees.

  “No.” She snipped. “Why are you acting so defensive?”

  I dropped back onto my bed to stare at the ceiling, which, now that I looked, was also orange. At least I wasn’t living in the great outdoors. I groaned. “I don’t know. Maybe the stories aren’t true. Wouldn’t you feel guilty assuming something so huge about him?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Why?�
�� I was definitely feeling defensive now.

  “He’s Zack Warren, hottest guy on the baseball team. He has one thing on his mind. Sex. And I wouldn’t blame you if you took him up on a round or two.” She giggled, “I can’t wait to tell the girls…so what have you found out about him so far?”

  The sadness vanished.

  Normally I cared less about her opinions and ignored them. Lana had a big mouth, and though I might be seen as a pushover for hanging out with her, what she said I took in one ear and pushed right out the other.

  For the first time that I can remember, her comments and assumptions were getting to me, all because of a guy I theoretically hated.

  “I’m not sharing anything with the fan club.” I stated, feeling like I was warding off press. But maybe I was. Her major is journalism.

  She clicked her tongue. “You took an oath.”

  “I made that up in the third grade, and the maker can unmake it.” I was feeling all of eight now, making and unmaking oaths. Was she ever going to grow up? The other girls saw her as more mature because she was having sex. She even dared to flaunt her devirginized status, not keeping what she and Kyle were doing to herself.

  Apparently it was pretty hot, and though curious, I never listened to her. I’d find out what it was about in my own time, with the right guy.