“There should be plenty of food left over,” Mom says, laughing. “You girls can take whatever’s left back with you. Go ahead and sit. Dinner will be ready in a couple minutes.”
Marissa and I grab seats on one side of the table, Beth and Katie on the other. I’m surprised to see that Mom has put out her good dinnerware and fancy silverware—for pizza, yet. Maybe she’s hoping it will make Dad realize this is a special occasion and help him be on his best behavior. There’s a crystal goblet next to each setting, too. Sam retreats to his favorite spot in front of the fireplace—he’s a good dog and knows he isn’t allowed near the table while people are eating. After depositing the pie in the kitchen, Dad joins us and sits at the head of the table.
A moment later, Mom emerges from the kitchen with a big wooden salad bowl. She’s gone all out with the salad, too. I can see tomatoes, green and red peppers, mushrooms, radishes and cucumbers all spread on a bed of crisp lettuce.
Mom sets the salad and a flask of homemade Italian dressing down in the center of the table. While we help ourselves to some salad, Mom returns to the kitchen for the pizza. I’d offer to help with all this, but I know she wouldn’t let me. She’d probably welcome some assistance from Dad, but we both know that’s not going to happen.
“Pizza’s on,” Mom says cheerily as she carries a steaming pizza into the dining room. The aroma of spicy tomato sauce and pepperoni is much stronger now. “I hope you all like pepperoni. There’s a mushroom pizza in the kitchen, if you prefer.”
“Pepperoni’s great,” Beth says.
Mom sets the pizza down next to the salad. “Diet Coke okay for you girls?”
We all nod yes, so Mom brings four cans from the kitchen, and we fill our goblets. Dad pours red wine for him and Mom. I bet Marissa would like some wine, but she knows she’s out of luck. Fake ID’s don’t usually work with your friends’ parents.
Conversation is pretty sparse as we concentrate on the pizza, which is just fine with me. Even Dad has been unusually quiet—and with him, quiet is a very good thing. The first pizza disappears pretty quickly, so Mom goes and gets the second.
“She may not be much to look at, but she sure can cook,” Dad says jokingly.
I feel myself stiffen. This is how it always starts. I see a fleeting look of pain cross Mom’s face. She’s actually pretty cute—for a mom, anyhow—with shoulder length strawberry blond hair that’s a lot straighter than mine and a really nice smile.
“I guess you do like my cooking,” Mom retorts, “since there’s twice as much of you now as there was when we got married.”
And here we go. Dad’s not anywhere near fat, but he does carry an extra ten pounds or so. In twenty years of marriage, my parents have learned exactly what buttons to push to achieve maximum effect.
Marissa seems to sense where this is heading, because she jumps in and quickly changes the subject. I wonder if her parents are anything like mine.
“Did Heather tell you she has a boyfriend,” she says.
I’m grateful for the interruption, but I really wish she’d picked another subject—any other subject. I can feel myself blushing, and I’m tempted to kick her under the table. But she’s managed to derail the impending train wreck between my parents, so I give her leg a break.
“No, she didn’t,” Mom says. She looks at me and smiles. “Tell us about him, Heather. What’s he like?”
“It’s no big deal,” I say, trying hard to downplay the whole thing. “I’ve only seen him a couple of times.”
“He’s a sophomore,” Marissa says.
“And he’s really cute, too,” Beth adds.
“Then what’s he doing with Heather?” Dad asks, grinning.
Oh Dad, you’re just so funny. No wonder you’ve raised such a self-confident daughter. But I’m determined not to lash back. That’s the mistake Mom always makes, striking back. At least I’ve learned something from all their bickering and fighting.
“How did you meet him,” Mom asks, ignoring my dad’s comment about me. I wish she was as good at ignoring him when it’s about her.
“Marissa shoved me into him,” I say.
“Not quite into him, but close,” Marissa says, grinning. “I could tell she wanted to talk to him. She just needed a little push. Tell them the rest of the story, Heather. It’s pretty funny.”
So I tell them about the red, blue, green, black thing, and how he came back at me with a string of colors of his own. They both laugh.
“That is pretty funny,” Mom says. “I bet your were so embarrassed when those colors came out of your mouth.”
“Totally,” I say. “I was looking around for a hole to climb into. And it gets worse. I told him Marissa pushed me, but when I turned around to point her out, she was gone. I was afraid he was going to think I was a crazy woman.”
Marissa is grinning big time now. “I’m always glad to be of service in the course of true love,” she says.
“Well, I’m glad it’s working out so far,” Mom says. She looks at me. “It’s been awhile since you’ve had a boyfriend, hasn’t it?”
Awhile? Earth to Mom. How about four years, Mom? I’d say that qualifies as awhile. And please don’t ask why it’s been so long. You wouldn’t like the answer.
“All this talk about romance is making me hungry again,” Katie says. “That pie’s calling my name, I think.”
I smile at her. She’s doing her best to rescue me, I know. I’m so glad I warned them what my parents can be like. They’re all doing a really good job handling the situation and protecting me. Good friends are definitely a good thing—a very good thing.
“Dessert’s a great idea,” Dad says. “I’ll get the pie.”
The rest of the evening passes about the same way. There are a couple of close calls, but no major explosions. Now my parents know I’ve got some great friends—and even a boyfriend, thanks to Marissa—and my friends got a small taste of what Mom and Dad are like. All in all, I’d call that a very successful evening.
Since it’s a school night, we’re able to leave early without seeming anxious to get out of here. What parent could argue against their kid wanting to get back for some studying? And did I mention how delicious the pie was?
Chapter 19
College is not all fun and games, and dates and kisses, I am reminded quite clearly when midterms week arrives. I’ve been studying like mad all week, sleeping little and playing even less. I’m pretty sure I did well on my first three tests, but my algebra final is really messing with my brain. Luckily, I’m nearly finished, and that will be it for tests and pressure—until finals, anyway. Ugh!
I scribble an answer to the last question and then flip my Blue Book closed. Leaning back in my chair, I draw in and let out what feels like my first real breath in almost two hours. I still have a few minutes left for the exam, but I am done—sooo done. I think I did pretty well, though. I should get at least a B. All my studying paid off, thank god. I’m glad I got up early, too, because one of the problems on the test was something I studied this morning. Now I just want to go home, maybe take a nap.
I walk my booklet up to the front and drop it on top of the few others already there. The professor, a dour older guy who doesn’t smile often, nods and rewards me with a small smile. I smile back sweetly before turning and heading for the door. It never hurts to do a little flirting with the teacher!
My mood lifts when I see Chris smiling up at me from the bottom of the steps. He’s wearing jeans and a black waffle knit T-shirt with a small “No Fear” logo above his heart. Maybe if I got a shirt like that I’d have less fear in my heart. I should be so lucky.
Seeing Chris here is a total surprise, and a nice one. My fatigue seems to melt away as I hurry down the stairs.
He gives me a quick peck on the lips. “Hi, gorgeous,” he says. “How’d you do?”
“I did good,” I say. “At least, I think I did.”
“How about I take you to lunch?” he asks. “As a reward for surviving your fi
rst taste of midterms.”
“Great,” I reply, smiling. “I’m starving. I didn’t have time for breakfast.”
He takes my hand in his. “Anywhere special you want to go?” he asks.
“Let’s just go over to the Student Center,” I suggest. “It’s the nearest place with food.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he replies. “Let’s go.”
He keeps hold of my hand as we head around the corner toward the Student Center, which is only a block away.
The dining hall inside the Student Center is huge, furnished with drab, utilitarian plastic chairs and square wooden tables that can be pushed together to accommodate groups of any size. The rear wall is almost all glass and looks out onto the Green. I find myself smiling as I remember our wonderful night out there by the fountain. The food here is served cafeteria-style so we head over to the long glass-covered counter. It’s stocked with sandwiches, salads, vegetables and side dishes. Behind the counter at the far end, a giant grill sizzles with hot dogs and hamburgers.
We cross to the food line. Ever the gentleman, Chris grabs two red plastic trays and hands one to me. He does the same with silverware and napkins. The line is short and moves quickly, with most of the kids skipping past the salads and veggies and heading straight for the sandwiches, fries and burgers. That’s exactly what Chris and I do.
There’s no wait at the grill, because this time of day the cook just keeps slapping burgers onto the sizzling grill, knowing how fast they’ll disappear. Less than five minutes after we entered the building, Chris and I have gotten our food, grabbed two sodas, and found a table by the huge rear window. The din from dozens of animated conversations fills the place, but it’s not too bad. I squirt some ketchup onto my fries and burger, and then offer the bottle to Chris.
I know it would probably be polite to wait until he’s done getting his food ready before I start eating, but I’m too hungry. I grab my burger and take a big bite. As usual, the meat is cooked a bit too much, but as hungry as I am, it tastes great. Ditto with the fries—they’re underdone and a little soggy, but that doesn’t stop me from enjoying them.
A few bites of burger and a couple of fries take the edge of my hunger, and I slow down a bit. Chris is holding his burger in two hands in front of his mouth, watching me. It looks like he’s only taken one bite so far, so he must not be nearly as hungry as I was. He seems to be looking at me a little bit funny, and I wonder if I have ketchup on my face or something.
I put my burger down and wipe my face with my napkin. Nope, no ketchup. It must be something else. Maybe the way I was wolfing down my food. Note to self: in the future, try to eat more lady-like.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
He looks startled, like he didn’t realize he was staring at me. “Umm…no,” he stammers. “Why?”
“You were looking at me kind of strangely,” I say.
He takes a drink from his soda before replying. “Strangely?” he repeats. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure if I can describe it,” I say. “It just felt like you were looking at me a little hard, maybe. I thought I’d smeared ketchup on my face or something.”
“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He grins. “I just like looking at you. You’re pretty cute.”
I smile back. I’m finally getting used to him saying stuff like that, and even better, I’m starting to believe he means it.
“Thanks,” I say. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
We both return to our food. The rest of lunch goes just fine, but I can’t rid of the feeling that something is wrong. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, just a feeling that won’t go away. Maybe I’m just tired from so much studying. I hope so. God knows I could use some sleep.
Chapter 20
Friday morning I sleep in. It’s been a long, tough week of studying and test taking, and I need the sleep. I deserve it, too. Just like I deserve the dinner Chris is taking me out for tonight.
It’s after ten o’clock when I finally throw back the covers and swing my feet over the side of my bed. My eyes feel like someone rubbed sand in them and my mouth tastes like I’ve been chewing on a dirty sock. I think I have a Red Bull hangover.
“Welcome to the land of the living,” Marissa says.
She’s lying on her bed, dressed in black sweat pants and a gray T-shirt, reading a book. Her hair is damp. When she sits up, I see the front of the shirt is covered with a bright green design that looks like someone threw fluorescent paint at her.
“Ugggh,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “I’m not sure I qualify as alive just yet. How long you been up?”
“Not long. Maybe forty-five minutes. When I woke up, I felt like you look right now.” She lifts an empty can of Red Bull from the bed. “One of these plus a shower did wonders. Want me to get you one?”
“No. Thanks. I’m going to stay away from that stuff for awhile. I don’t think I do caffeine very well.”
I force myself to my feet and grab a bottle of water from our mini-refrigerator. I take a mouthful and swish it around inside my mouth. The cold water feels awesome—I can almost feel the parched lining of my mouth soaking it up. Finally, I spit it out into the sink and take a big swallow. I’m starting to feel human. I’m also kind of hungry. I turn around and find Marissa watching me.
“Have you eaten anything yet?” I ask.
“Just an orange,” she says, nodding toward the small basket of fruit atop the mini-fridge.
“I’m going to take a quick shower, then how about we go down and get some breakfast?”
“Sounds good,” Marissa says.
Now that I’m starting to wake up, I’m beginning to pick up a strange vibe from Marissa. It feels like she’s looking at me a little strangely. I wonder if I’m imagining it. What is going on with me? First Chris, and now Marissa. I really am becoming paranoid. Maybe I really do need to stay away from Red Bull.
I definitely need that shower, that much I know. I put on my terrycloth robe, grab a towel, and head down the hallway.
When I get back from the shower, Katie is sitting on Marissa’s desk chair. Like Marissa, she’s dressed for hanging around the dorm comfortably—dark blue yoga pants and light blue T-shirt. A column of dark blue diamonds runs down the right side of the shirt.
Marissa is sitting in her favorite spot, on the bed with her back propped on a pillow against the wall. She’s still wearing her sweatpants and T-shirt. I know her well enough to know she’s not going down to breakfast dressed like that. At eight in the morning if she’s in a rush, maybe, but not at eleven.
Katie looks up at me as I enter. She’s got a very uncomfortable look on her face. I know I’m not imagining that. What the heck is going on? Katie turns her face away from me and exchanges a glance with Marissa.
“What’s going on, guys?” I ask.
“We need to talk to you, Heather,” Marissa says. “Why don’t you get dressed, then we’ll talk.”
I clutch my robe tighter around me. “You guys are creeping me out,” I say. “What is it?”
“Get dressed,” Marissa says softly. “Just throw something on. Anything.”
I’m starting to get really anxious. I have no idea what’s happening. Cautious girl does not like to feel in the dark like this. In fact, she hates it. For a moment, I think maybe I should go back into the shower and try this all over again. Or maybe go home and really start all over again.
I slip into the most comfortable things I own—a pair of dark gray sweats and a baggy black and white striped T-shirt. My wet hair begins to soak into my shirt, so I wrap it into a tight bun behind my head. It’s going to look like crap when I let it down, but I’m beginning to think that’s going be the least of my worries.
Neither Marissa nor Katie has said a single word while I dress. As soon as I get my hair up, I sit down on my bed. Without really thinking about it, I bring my legs up against me and wrap my arms around my shins protectively. I have a fleeting thought tha
t maybe if I close my eyes, when I open them none of this will be happening. Maybe it’s just a stress dream.
I should be so lucky.
“Well?” I ask. “What’s going on?”
Katie looks at Marissa, who nods to her.
“I wasn’t sure if I should tell you,” Katie begins, “but Marissa said I had to. But not until midterms were over. We didn’t want to mess up your tests.”
Not until midterms were over. Didn’t want to mess up your tests. Now I know this is going to be bad. But what the heck can it be? And do I really want to know? Didn’t I read somewhere that “ignorance is bliss?” I’m all in favor of bliss right now. Lots and lots of bliss.
“Are you sure this is something I want to hear?” I ask, feeling like a condemned person praying for a stay of execution.
Marissa gets up and crosses the room. She sits beside me on my bed and puts her arm around my shoulders. Yep, this is going to be bad, all right.
“It’s not something you’ll want to hear,” Marissa says gently, “but it’s something you need to hear. Go ahead, Katie.”
Katie looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here. God, do I know that feeling.
“It’s about Chris,” she says hesitantly.
Chris!? My mind starts racing. What about him? Is he alright? Has something happened to him? I just saw him yesterday, at lunch and at vampire class. He seemed fine. No, wait…I thought he was looking at me funny. Maybe I wasn’t imagining it. Maybe he had something he wanted to tell me. Maybe he’s sick. Oh god, don’t tell me he’s dying!
I try to rein in my thoughts before my imagination completely runs away from me. It can’t be anything like that—why would Katie be the one telling me if it was? She barely knows Chris. No, it has to be something else. But what?
“I, uh, saw Chris Wednesday morning,” Katie begins. The hesitation is clear in her voice. “Over at Clayton.”
Clayton is a girls dormitory on the other side of campus. So what if she saw him there? Maybe he has a friend there, someone from one of his classes or something. Wednesday morning, no big deal. At least she didn’t seem him there at midnight. But why is she telling me this if it’s no big deal?
Mine: A Love Story Page 11
