Ryan
I've been lying to Lori. I've been telling her that Dad's traveling less. It's not true, but lately I've gotten a wake-up call about my grades. Failed two tests and am pulling Cs and Ds in every class except Lori's. She's giving me an A, but not because we're lovers— I'm actually working in her class. That idea is still hard for me to get my head around sometimes. Me and Ms. Settles, doing each other every chance we get.
Lori helps me with papers and assignments, but with tests I'm on my own. Dad will put me under house arrest if my grades don't come up. If I tell Lori I need to buckle down, she'll find a way to talk me out of it. She has in the past.
And then there's the problem of my friends. Lori just doesn't get it. I need to hang with them more. First because I want to, and second because I need to. They don't analyze every word I say. Or have a breakdown if I want to do something they don't want to do. Only thing is, when we go out and do stuff together, I feel as if I'm cheating on Lori. Not that I'm doing the horizontal boogie with anyone except her, but she can make me feel pretty guilty when she turns on the tears.
The guys tell me it's great to have me in the mix again. Honey acts as if I'm some long-lost traveler home from a faraway galaxy. One afternoon when I'm at her house, she tells me, “It's like you were lobotomized and now you're back. I've missed you.”
“Sure,” I say. “I was taken over by aliens, grown in a pod and tossed back into McAllister armed with only my wits. Bet you can hardly see the place where I was attached to my pea pod.” I lift my shirt and show my belly button. Her face turns red, and I realize she's not like Lori, always wanting me naked. I pull down my shirt. “Sorry.”
“What? You think I don't know you have a navel? We've been to the pool together, mister.”
“Hey, chill. I was making a joke.”
“I'm not mad. And I'm not a prude.” She's all huffy-sounding.
I laugh. “Could have fooled me.” I duck down, stare up at her face. “Whoa. Is that a flicker of a smile?”
She tries hard to hide it.
“Maybe this will help loosen it up.” I spring on her, toss her onto the rec-room sofa and start tickling her.
In seconds, she's shrieking. “Stop it!” She's laughing and hiccupping, twisting and turning, but I keep up my tickle attack.
I shout, “My pod masters have given me the strength of ten bags of spinach. Resistance is futile!”
When she goes limp, I'm straddling her body and I've pinned her arms above her head. Her hair's a mess and she's breathing hard. Her face is as pink as if she's just played a game on the courts.
“You will pay!” she threatens, catching her breath and still laughing. “I will hurt you.”
Watching her struggle, I feel a surge of power, and something comes over me I can't explain. Without thinking, I dip my head and kiss her on the mouth. I pull back and her eyes are wide and she's staring up at me like a startled bird. I roll off her as fast as I can and stand up. “Sorry.”
“No. No, don't be sorry,” she says.
But I hardly hear her because I'm already halfway up the stairs and heading for her front door.
Honey
Ryan kissed me. Me, Honey Fowler. On my mouth. Without any begging or pleading on my part, Ryan kissed me. I may never come down from the high I'm on. I won't tell anyone, not even Jess, because I want to hold on to the kiss and the feelings in my heart forever. If I share the story, my friends will dissect it, pick it apart and make it into something else.
“He likes you,” Jess will insist.
“Finally he's come around,” Taylor will say. “About time, too. How long have you crushed on him? A hundred years?”
I'll keep the magic to myself. Right here inside my heart, where no one can go except me. The kiss was spontaneous. He might not have planned it, but I have longed for it and now it's mine. He can't take it back.
I wonder if he really meant it. If he did, why did he apologize for doing it? A guy doesn't tell a girl he's sorry for stealing a kiss. Not if he really means it. I don't want him to be sorry. I want him to like me— love me—as much as I love him.
“What are you so happy about?” Jess stops me in the hall. She's tacking up posters for the upcoming freshman-sophomore spring dance.
“Do I look happy?”
“Air-walking happy.”
“I'll try to look more serious.”
She eyes me skeptically. “Something's different.”
“I aced an algebra test.”
“You do that all the time. No, this is something else.”
“You're so nosey. Can't a girl just be happy without the third degree?”
“No.”
I burst out laughing.
“What's so funny?” Joel has come up, slipped his arm around Jess.
“You're way too young to understand,” I tell him, and turn and walk away.
When I see Ryan alone in the library later in the week, I freeze. What should I say? He looks up, beckons me over. I slide into the chair across from him at the table. “Are you a role model for Homeworkers Anonymous? You're always in the library.”
He shrugs. “Got to keep up the grades. Better to do it here. Fewer distractions.”
He's never had trouble before with his grades, but my mind isn't on schoolwork. “I haven't heard much from you lately.” I choose my words. I want to ask, “Why haven't you called, or e-mailed, since you kissed me?”
“Full slate.”
I stare at him, my heart pounding. “Too full to even shoot off an e-mail?”
“I haven't done a lot of things I used to do lately. Nothing personal.”
I feel as if he's blowing me off. “I miss talking to you.”
He lays down his pen, leans back in the chair. “Why are my friends giving me heat? You, Joel— I have a list. You all act like I don't care anymore just because I have to keep on the books. I'm working hard. I don't have time to explain every time I can't get together.”
I feel stung, as if I'm messing where I'm not wanted. The kiss was a fluke. “I'll leave you to your books.” I go to stand, but Ryan takes my wrist.
“Wait.”
I sit.
“I'm not avoiding you. You're my best friend.” His voice is softer.
I want to be more than your friend. “Okay. So now what?”
He tips his head and grins. “So why don't we go to the spring dance together?”
Ryan
What was I thinking? Why did I kiss Honey? Why did I ask her to the dance? To keep from having to talk about the kiss. I answer my own question. The kiss was an impulse. It just happened. I did it just because I could. Because Lori makes me crazy and I wanted to be in contact with my other world again. Stupid! But now I'm committed to going—Joel's already said we'll double—so backing out isn't an option.
I tell my dad, “I need some funds for the school dance at the end of the month.”
“You're going?”
“Thought I would.”
“That's great, son. Who are you taking?”
“Honey. We're doubling with Joel and Jess.”
“Has something changed between you two?”
“Still just friends.”
“And she's all right with that?”
“Seems to be.”
He clears his throat. “Then have a good time.”
“We will.”
Before I can escape he says, “Ryan, I'm not prying, but I'm honestly interested in what's going on in your life. Because I'm gone so much, I feel more like a shadow around here than your father. We never talk about much when I am home, so I ask questions to get a dialogue going, not to pry.”
“Okay.” I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans. I'm not in the mood for this. What does he expect me to say?
“Girls, grades and sports—guy stuff, right, son?”
He's trying too hard. I'm not into sports, my grades suck, and how can I ever tell him about my “girl”? “Dad, I'm doing fine. Don't worry about me.”
“Dad, we haven't got any problems. My life's just not that interesting.”
He waves me off. “Frankly, I'm glad you're taking the dating scene nice and slow. You're smart. It hasn't been easy for you growing up without a mother.”
He surprises me, because we never talk about her. Or about what she did. “It doesn't bother me anymore,” I say. “I got over not having her around a long time ago.”
His mouth forms a hard line. “She shouldn't have left us,” he says.
“But she did.”
He reaches for his wallet, pulls out a few bills and hands them to me. “Enjoy the dance.”
I slip out of the house at midnight and Lori meets me at the end of the block. She's talkative during the drive. I'm glad because it means she's in a good mood, and she won't be once I drop my bomb. As soon as we're inside her apartment, she wraps her arms around me. We kiss, then I step back from her embrace. “Listen, I have to tell you something.”
“What is it?”
I tell her about the dance and taking Honey, adding, “I got backed into going, so don't get all frantic about it. It just happened and I have to do it.”
“Why would I get frantic?”
“I don't know….I just thought—”
“You're a high school freshman, Ryan. You made your case to me that sometimes you have to pick up your old life. I understand.”
Lori doesn't go off on a crying jag. This is easier than I'd expected.
“Go to the dance with that big horsey girl and have a golly-gosh good time.” She pats my cheek.
I should defend Honey. I don't.
“But you have to do something for me.”
“Like what?”
“Next Friday is a teachers' work day. You're out of classes. I don't intend to show up for work. I want us to spend the day in Savannah. It's only a few hours from Atlanta and we can actually walk around in the open where no one knows us.”
I'd planned to spend the day at Atlanta Underground, a cool hangout not far from home, with my friends. But I get that it's a trade-off—I get to go to the dance without a Lori scene, and she gets to go to Savannah with me in tow. It's worth it.
“All right,” I tell her. “It's a deal.”
Honey
“This is cool,” Jess says, holding up a dress that glitters with gold sequins.
“It shouts ‘hooker!’ ” Taylor says, pulling a simple green high-neck dress from the rack. “This is better.”
I look at my friends, hardly believing that this time I'm the one we're shopping for. That I'm the one Ryan has asked to the McAllister freshman-sophomore dance.
“Fine,” Jess snaps. “Send her out looking like her grandmother.”
“A movie star would wear this in a heartbeat,” Taylor says. “This is a happening dress.”
“Boring,” Jess says with a fake yawn. “An instant catnap. She needs to wow him, not put him to sleep.”
“Hey, hey.” I step between my two friends. “No fighting. This is supposed to be fun.”
“I'm having fun,” Taylor says. “Are you having fun?”
“I'm hysterical,” Jess says.
We burst out laughing. It's a teachers' workday and we're at the mall searching for the perfect dress. My friends are happy for me, and I'm happy too. But I know this date with Ryan isn't like a regular boyfriend-girlfriend thing. It's not as if he calls me for no reason, or cozies up to me at school, or comes by my house just to be with me. Ryan doesn't treat me the way Joel treats Jess, or Wade treats Taylor. I'm not complaining. I'll take what I can get.
“Here it is!” Taylor says, triumphantly pulling a long bright-blue dress off a rack. She holds it up and we all stare in awe. The dress is beautiful, perfect for me—simple, and more elegant than sexy.
The color matches Ryan's eyes, I think. “You've got something there,” I say. “Now let's hope it fits.”
I clutch the dress and the three of us rush into a fitting room.
Ryan
Lori and I have a blast in Savannah. She's happy all day and we laugh a lot and spend a ton of her money. She takes me shopping and buys me the newest and best gaming console on the market, plus a stack of games and CDs. She picks out really cool clothes for me at some men's store where the salesguy is wearing a pink dress shirt and a red silk tie. The suits are Italian linen and silk and the casual shirts and pants cost in the triple digits. Way out of my league!
We stick the bags in the trunk of the car and I tell her, “I can't take all this stuff home. Too many questions.”
“I'll keep the game box and most of the games at my place and you can use them when you come over. Problem solved.”
I figure I can hide the clothes in the back of my closet and pull out a shirt once in a while. I do my own laundry, so Dad won't notice the new stuff. I won't make the same mistake I made at Christmas. “That'll work.”
She's rented a convertible for the day, and driving with the top down makes talking difficult. Not a problem for me—I don't really want to talk, just blast down the open highway chasing the wind. On the trip home, Lori lets me drive. “You sure?” I ask, hopping into the driver's seat.
“Just don't get stopped by a cop.” She ties a scarf around her hair.
“Oh, baby!” I say, and zip onto the interstate, feeling the power of the engine through my hands on the steering wheel.
By the time we hit Atlanta, afternoon has faded into evening and traffic is thinner. We're at her place in no time. Upstairs, she kisses me. I drop the packages and kiss her back, really kiss her, because the day has rocked.
“Can you stay?” she asks.
“Dad made me promise to be home by nine.”
“But tomorrow's Saturday.”
“Can't help it. I said I'd be there. He's putting pressure on me lately. Wants to be my buddy.”
She rolls her eyes, and for a minute I think she's going to pitch a fit. I'm relieved when she finally says, “All right. I'll run you home.”
I gather up a couple of the new games to take with me. The clothes are still in the trunk. “Let's go.”
“You ready for the dance next Friday?” she asks while driving.
I've come to be suspicious about her casual questions. “I'm ready. Why?”
“I just want to tell you that I've volunteered to chaperone.”
We've been together all day and she's just now telling me this? “Okay.”
“I'm not checking up on you, Ryan, if that's what you're thinking. Dexter asked for faculty volunteers and I never do anything to help out, so this seemed like a good way to stay in her good graces.”
“You're in her good graces now?”
“Ever since I've been dressing like a frump. I'm not even on her radar.”
The longer skirts and flats haven't fooled anyone. Every guy in school knows the kind of body her clothes are covering. Me most of all. “Whatever it takes to keep our principal happy,” I say.
Two blocks from my house, she rolls to the curb. I make for the door, but she stops me.
“You had a good time today, didn't you?”
“I had a great time.”
“Good.” Her smile is cheerful. “I want you to always have a good time with me.”
I watch her drive off. Then I jog home, where Dad's waiting to grill me about my day at the Underground.
•••
The problem with a high school dance in the gym is that it's so…well, so high school. The pep club has decorated the place with murals, glitter and balloons, but it's still a gym. A disc jockey, a senior who has a part-time job at a local radio station, is spinning tunes onstage, and whirling rainbow-colored lights are spraying the room and the mob of kids who've shown up with bright colors.
I'm glad I came. For the first time in a long time, I feel like my former self. Just Ryan. Honey looks good, too. I hadn't figured she'
d be as pretty as she is tonight. When she first came down the stairs at her house, I took a step backward because she looked like a model or something.
Truth is, all the girls look pretty, even the ones who seem ordinary in classrooms and halls.
“Whoa!” Joel says. “Look thataway.”
We all turn and my heart lurches. Lori's standing there and Coach Mathers is practically slobbering on her. She's wearing a short, low-cut black dress and superhigh heels that sparkle in the lights.
Taylor grabs Jess and Honey. “Come on. Let's get a close-up. I'll bet ten bucks that dress is designer. I swear I saw it in Vogue.”
“I'd rather not,” Honey says, holding back, but Taylor won't be put off.
The three of us guys trail after our dates, me last because I don't know how to act around Lori. Not in front of everybody.
“Hello, Ms. Settles,” Taylor gushes. “You look fab!”
“Thank you, Taylor. All you girls are lovely.” She's using her soft teacher voice, her eyes warm and friendly. She doesn't even look my way.
“Hey, Coach,” Honey says.
“My star player,” he says to Lori.
“So I've heard,” Lori says. “You're one heck of a basketball player, according to the newspaper. Good for you. Girl power.”
Honey smiles, but I know she doesn't like being singled out. And I know she doesn't like Ms. Settles. She squints and I notice that she's looking hard at Lori's throat. “That's a pretty necklace,” she says.
Lori touches the silver knot on the hammered silver chain resting against her skin. “Thank you. It was a gift from a friend. For Christmas.”
Taylor and Jess agree that the necklace I gave Lori is “really pretty.” It surprises me that she's wearing it, but so what? No one knows who gave it to her.
“You all have fun,” Lori says, and she and Coach walk toward the food tables.
A slow song begins to play and Taylor and Wade peel off to the dance floor. Honey turns to me and she's white as a ghost. “You okay?” I ask.
“Just a little sick to my stomach,” she says. “I didn't eat dinner.”
Sure came on sudden, I think.
Prey Page 8
