“I’m down if they’re with some desperate fans!” Trent adds.
I shrug him off. Listen to yourself, Dad. The team name is Heat. Meaning they are located in a place where there is HEAT! Remember Cancun—the place where your MS symptoms started? Now you’re thinking about going on another trip? Do you want to end up in a wheelchair?
“It’s too hot” is all I say.
“You’re being stubborn, Payton,” Dad says. “What’s going on? Are you worried about my MS?”
“Someone needs to be.”
Dad runs a hand down his face. “We’ve thought this out already. Got the okay from my doctor. Heat can cause a flare-up, but so can any number of things.”
This is the most I’ve talked to my parents about any of this. A tiny bead of sweat trails down my back. “But you’re still going to risk it.”
“It’s not about risk.” His voice has a slight edge to it. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. It’s a trip.”
“You don’t need to get mad at me.”
“I’m not … I’m not mad.” Dad lets out a breath and shakes his head. “Look, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to do things like this with you. I want to take advantage of it while I can.”
“Yeah, you brat,” Trent says. “Be glad your dad even wants to do something with you.”
Their anger feels good, much better than worry. I grab a slice of pizza and stand up. “You all know how I feel, not that it matters. I’ll wait outside.”
I rush out of the restaurant. It’s raining again, so I sit under an awning and finish my soggy pizza. My family joins me twenty minutes later and no one says a word the entire way home.
After another tense weekend, I’m ready to get to school and enjoy the carefree lifestyle of a fifteen-year-old. You know, hanging with friends. Eating a nice lunch. Which is what I’m about to do, until Jac plops her lunch tray down by Sean.
We aren’t even on our side of the cafeteria! I swear, the whole universe groaned at our blatant rebellion of the high school caste system. Sean sits at the I’m-too-into-sports-to-care-about-girls-yet table. So if you’re a girl, you don’t go there. Unless you’re the butch goalie on the hockey team, and even she sits at the edge of the group.
But Jac is oblivious to the ways of the world, or acts like she is. She just flicks her braids and turns to Sean. “So when are we going on a bike ride?”
We? WE! Since when does she become a WE with Sean?
Sean smiles, but when he speaks, he looks at me. “It’s a full moon tonight. Supposed to be clear skies. We could do a late-night ride.”
Even with appropriate bike gear, riding at night is not always safe. Plus, there might be lunatics, real lunatics, waiting to jump out of the trees and abduct us. “Jac’s got theater stuff and I—”
“Sounds exciting.” Jac grins at Sean. At least the other boys at the table give her the same look of disgust. “Maybe you can bring some friends too. Do you have any friends who like to bike?”
Sean bites into his sandwich. “Sure. I’ll bring them along. Maybe a quarter or so after nine. Sound good to you, Payton?”
“I don’t know—”
“He’ll go easy on you this time, right, Sean? You sure worked her the other day. She’s been talking about it all weekend. All weekend.”
Sean swallows and coughs. “Really? Didn’t you like it? If we go tonight, I’ll set an easier course.”
Blood pumps into my face like air into a tire. Shut up, Jac. “The last course was fine. I rode it, didn’t I? Jac’s the one I’d be worried about. Shopping is her idea of exercise.”
Jac laughs. “We’ll see you tonight then. And bring those friends in case we need someone to carry us home.”
The bell rings and I wait until Sean is gone to pull Jac to the side. “What was that?”
“What? The bike ride? You said it was fine.”
“Not that. Your cantankerous attitude.”
“Can’t-what-a-cus?”
“Rude. You were being rude.”
Jac’s eyes are all innocence. “I was teasing you, schnookums. That’s what you do around boys. I wasn’t trying to be mean. And I thought it was cute when Sean looked all concerned about you.”
Yeah, he did. But why is she the one pointing that out? I’m confused enough about my feelings right now, not just with Sean, but with life. I don’t like feeling rushed into stuff like this. I rub my left shoulder. Maybe a well-designed Focus Exercise would calm me down.
When I don’t say anything, Jac sighs. “Look, I’m sorry. I was just doing what we talked about on Saturday. The wild and crazy have-some-fun plan I came up with, remember?”
I roll my eyes.
“And you know this will be awesome. I’ll meet you at the corner by your house at nine. Mom is out of town and my sister won’t care.”
“My parents would never go for it.”
“Hello? Then don’t tell them. Aren’t you supposed to be going through a rebellious phase right now?”
I’m torn. If I don’t go, Jac will. And she might cause more damage. Plus, I did have fun with Sean the other day. An easier ride might give us more of a chance to talk. But my parents would rage if I snuck out. It’s one thing to not talk to them, it’s another to use their inability to disclose a family crisis as an excuse to practice inappropriate adolescent behavior.
I shake my head. Wow. That reasoning sounded way too much like Ms. Callahan for me to listen to it. Jac’s right. I’ve never snuck out, never lied to my parents, never jumped off a cliff. What is holding me back? Maybe the best way to learn more about myself is to stop being … myself.
Besides, if I get caught, what are they really going to do? Send me to a counselor? Ground me from spring break?
“Fine. We’ll go. And it might even be fun. But you better wear protective headgear.”
Jac throws back her head and laughs. She’s still laughing when she leaves me at my locker.
I don’t know what’s so funny. Bike safety is no laughing matter.
THIRTEEN
I’m delicate with my parents at dinner. After Sunday, they are worried, and worried equals more attentive. I don’t want them deciding we need a late-night chat and then discovering I’ve disappeared. So I talk a little, smile a little, and claim my monthly visitor is not being friendly. This makes Mom sympathetic, Dad uneasy, and Trent completely disgusted. It’s enough that they leave me alone for the night.
As part of the show, I walk down my hallway to say good night a little before nine. I contemplate holding a warm water bottle against my side, but sometimes less is more. Although I might want to pack one for the ride—my butt is already shuddering at the inevitable.
I knock softly on my parents’ door but no one responds. Cracking the door a bit, I peer inside.
Dad’s sitting on the edge of the bed buttoning up his flannel pajama top. Correction—trying to button his flannel pajama top. His fingers aren’t cooperating and his lips press together in frustration. It’s like watching a four-year-old tie his shoelaces.
“Need help?” Mom asks as she appears from the bathroom. She’s wearing one of her long, satin nightgowns, the kind I used to sneak into her closet to rub against my cheek.
Dad smiles. “I’ve performed oral reconstructive surgery. I think I can button a shirt.”
Mom watches him for another moment before whispering, “Is it getting bad again, Wayne?”
“Just tired.” Dad finishes the last button and kisses my mom on the cheek. “Nothing to worry about.”
Mom nods, but her look proves she doesn’t believe him and neither do I. I push the door open and try my best to pretend I didn’t witness the scene. “Just wanted to say good night.”
“Feeling better, sunshine?”
I should be asking him this. Even while dealing with his own pain, he thinks about someone else. Why can’t he be mean? Why can’t he have a woeful, self-involved, I’m-sick-screw-it phase where he eats Chinese food while watching game show
s all day?
“Feeling great. Well, night.” I’m about to close the door behind me but poke my head through the crack.
“Oh, and about spring break.”
Mom and Dad exchange a loaded look.
“Florida’s not bad.”
I shut the door quickly and plod to my room. I slip Dad’s Sixers shirt onto my pillow like a pillowcase and clutch it, pretending that I’m hugging my dad, like I can squeeze all his pain away.
I’m glad I didn’t stay to see their reaction to my Florida comment. Mom’s probably gaping or even worse, tearing up. That I can handle. But what I don’t want to see is the look of hope that would be in my dad’s eyes. Because it’ll ache that much more when I hurt him again.
“Who are you trying to be? Catwoman?” I ask Jac when I bike up to the corner of Pawlings Road. She’s in black gloves and head-to-toe black spandex, with her hair freed from its braids and flowing under her helmet.
“Meow.”
“You’re going to freeze. It’s forty-something degrees out.”
“This spandex is fully lined.”
I pull out the extra sweatshirt I’ve stuffed into my backpack along with some water, hand warmers, and safety flares. Just in case. “Take this.”
She grabs the sweatshirt but ties it around her waist.
“And you’re supposed to wear bright colors when night riding,” I say.
“Duh.” She whisks some glow-in-the-dark necklaces out of her pocket and starts fastening them around various parts of her body. “Doesn’t mean I can’t do it in style.”
“Let’s go,” I say before I decide she is too much of a hazard and call the whole thing off.
The park we’re meeting Sean at is only a few blocks away, and we’re there in less than five minutes. The park closes at dusk and, luckily, there isn’t a ranger in sight. For a moment, I think we’ve been stood up. Then a maroon Honda Civic with three bikes on a rack swerves into the parking lot and parks in a spot behind the restrooms.
“Is that them?” I ask Jac.
“Let’s find out.”
“But what if it isn’t—” I start to say. She’s already covered half the lot.
It could be a car full of criminals looking for high school girls to feed on. Or some weird extremists who kidnap young girls for their cult. Or undercover cops, here to arrest the delinquent youth loitering at the park after hours.
Oh. Or it could be Sean. He gets out of the backseat and waves while the driver slams his door shut. Whoever is in the passenger seat stays there, and even when I get closer I can’t see who it is.
“Hey girls,” Sean says. “This is my cousin, Mark. He and I ride together all the time. Mark, this is Payton and this is Jac.”
Mark nods. “What’s up?”
Even in the dark, I can see the familiar look in Jac’s eyes. There is no denying it, Mark is hot. He has Sean’s same hair and easy smile, but he’s older and more chiseled looking. Catwoman is ready to pounce.
“Do you live around here?” Jac asks him.
“Yeah. Just up in Limerick. You?”
Jac flips her hair. “No. I live in Audubon with my mom”—she lowers her voice—“who is never around.”
Mark grins. “Lack of parental units. I can dig on that.”
The kid in the passenger seat opens his door and spits.
“Grady, get out,” Sean says. “I need your help pulling the bikes down.”
I still can’t see what Grady looks like but I can hear him as he lets out a string of swear words before yanking the bikes off the rack. Finally, he looks up at Jac and me and scowls. She doesn’t flinch but I start to shake. I am facing a fate worse than prowling criminals. I’m about to go biking with Vampire Boy.
He’s dressed head to toe, as usual, in black. He snorts at Jac and says, “What’s with the Day-Glo crap? We riding bikes or going to a rave?”
Sean is already on the ground, putting on his shoes and helmet. “Ignore him. Full moons make him grumpy.”
So he’s not a vampire but a werewolf. Lovely.
“It’s my version of bike safety,” Jac says. “People can see me.”
Grady walks over and snaps off one of her necklaces. “We’re riding in a state park after hours. If anyone sees you, we’ll get kicked out. Save your fashion statement for the Fourth of July, would ya?”
Jac’s mouth hangs open but she removes the remaining jewelry. Grady turns his attention to me and scrutinizes my bright yellow North Face jacket.
“And what do we have here?”
“I can’t take off my jacket,” I protest. “I’ll freeze.”
“You’re not taking off your jacket.” Sean stands up and clicks his shoes into his pedals. “And Jac, you can wear the jewelry if you want. I’ve ridden here a million times at night and never gotten caught. No one cares.”
Grady shrugs and leans on his bike. “Fine. But if these little divas slow us down—”
Sean laughs. “Grady, you’ve been slowing me down since fourth grade.”
“And what kind of guy complains about having hot girls alone with him at night?” Mark adds.
Jac’s twinkling glance asks Did you hear him just call us hot? A chilly breeze rustles the trees and I point to the sweatshirt around her waist. She shakes her head and sticks out her chest.
“You guys can ride and we’ll follow,” Jac says.
Mark offers her his smooth grin. “And miss the view? I’ll stay behind you.”
Gagfest. Finally, FINALLY, Sean starts down the path and we trail behind. Even though the sky is clear and the moon is bright, it’s still hard to see through some of the denser patches. The naked trees cast shadows across the yawning river, which joins the shore so abruptly, it’d be easy to ride right in. Thinner dirt trails snake off the main cement road, leading into thicker forest. Our circling bike pedals provide a rhythmic hum but don’t completely drown out the occasional twig snapped by whatever animals are hiding in the darkness.
I bike as close as I can to Sean and as far from Grady as possible. At least I don’t feel his stare on me and he seems content to ride far behind the rest of us. Sean points out little novelties, like the log over the river and the raccoon in the trash can as Mark and Jac flirt behind us.
Jac: I know I’ve seen you before!
Mark: Nah, I’d remember someone as cute as you.
Jac: But that’s how I remember you.
We hit an incline and stop talking to concentrate. We’re almost to the top when I hear a grunt. I turn around to see Grady face down in the dirt, his bike to his side with the wheel spinning just above his head.
He lifts his head and brushes the dirt and leaves out of his face. “Suck. My bike hit a pothole or something.”
Sean and Mark are already off their bikes and on the ground, laughing. I cover my mouth to hide my own smile.
“Shut up,” Grady says. “I think I hurt my ankle.”
Sean is beside him in an instant, inspecting his leg. “You idiot. It’s twisted. How’d you manage that?”
“Are you going to help me or criticize me?”
Sean looks up at Mark. “Why don’t you walk him down to the car? We’ll stay here with the bikes. You can drop him off at home and come back for the rest of us.”
“Rest of us?” Jac asks. “I’m going with Mark!”
Sean raises an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
She takes off her helmet, unleashing her hair in all its golden glory. “He’ll need help walking Grady down. And I don’t want to sit out here at night. Creeps me out.”
“I can walk down by myself!” Grady tries to stand up on the ankle but grimaces.
“Stop trying to be the martyr,” says Mark. “It’s like a mile to the car. Jac and I will carry you down, get you a Band-Aid, fluff your pillow—”
Grady looks like he is going to bite Mark, but he loops his arm over Mark’s shoulder anyway. He barely touches Jac’s arm and she doesn’t push it. She turns and winks at me. “You two be good,” she says
.
They ease Grady down the hill and disappear around a corner. The only sound is the chirp of an insomniac bird.
And just like that, we’re alone.
FOURTEEN
“Told you this ride would be easier than the last one.” Sean shakes his head and sits down on a log next to the trail and massages his temples. “Good thing too. Grady was starting to give me another headache.”
He’s so casual about the whole episode I can’t stand it. And I’m still a little in shock about the vampire encounter. “Why are you hanging out with Grady?” I ask.
“What, he didn’t win you over with his friendly personality?”
“He’s a goth.”
“Really? I thought he was more emo. With a punk edge. Old-school punk though, not like Hot Topic style—”
“He has fangs.”
“Sure. Goth it is.” Sean shrugs. “But so what? Labels are stupid. Do you like it when people call you an uptight prep?”
My mouth hangs open. “No one calls me that!”
“Not to your face. And Grady’s the goth, I guess. I’m not sure what I am. Borderline nerd maybe? Wannabe jock? What do you think?”
“I think … I think … Don’t change the subject! Even if you took away Grady’s freakishness, he’s still a jerk. Why is someone like you hanging out with someone like him?”
“It’s a long story.”
I look up the trail where the injured and company have disappeared. “We’ve got time.”
Sean pats the space on the log next to him and I sit. We’re close, but not too close. Nothing is touching. Not yet. “See this scar?” he says, pointing to the mystery that is the base of my Sean Stalking. “This is how I met Grady.”
“Did he knife you?” I ask, aghast.
Sean laughs. “Hardly. It was the summer before fourth grade and I was at the community pool, trying to swim the full length—no breathing—for the first time. Well, I … kind of passed out in the water and hit my head on the side of the pool. Pathetic, I know.
Sean Griswold's Head Page 8
