“Have you, like, ever had a boyfriend, Grace?”
“No, boys are dumb. All they do is burp and talk about sports.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Grace smiled when Lizzie wasn’t looking.
“Why? You got a boy in mind for me?”
“No!”
“Well, then, what about for you?” Lizzie turned noticeably red.
“Liz, Liz, Liz. Seeing as I’m your best friend and all, I’m afraid I’m going to have to approve this relationship. And, I’m going to tell you this for your benefit- if you don’t learn how to cut that blushing out, you’re totally gonna give yourself away.”
“I don’t blush! And, just for that I’m not gonna tell you.”
“Yes you are.” But Lizzie clamped her mouth around the straw of her shake and refused to give Grace an answer. Grace figured it out, though, when not more than two minutes later, Lizzie started smacking her hard in the leg and chanting, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” over and over again under her breath.
“Lizzie, snap out of it. What’s the matter with.... Oh.” And there, in front of the store, walking across the street directly toward the pharmacy was Mr. Home-Town-Hero himself. Payton Cartwright, in all of his ninth grade glory, jogged across the street, his blue jeans molded ever so slightly to the muscles that were beginning to shape up nicely underneath, and his letter jacket keeping him warm from the almost chilly Southern winter. When he smiled back at the rest of the boys that called something after him, both girls sighed so long and deep, Mr. Gilchrist almost laughed out loud.
They buried themselves in their shakes as Payton walked through the door and tried not to listen as he chatted for a while with Mr. Gilchrist. He didn’t stay in the store for longer than five minutes, and neither one of them could think up a decent conversation to have while he was there. On his way out the front door of the store, he paused, and looked back at them, just like he’d known they had been sitting there all along.
“Hi,” he said, his voice already deep and smooth from the change in his body. Then he smiled, that deep lazy smile that made his eyes sparkle and that dimple show, and if either girl had thought about responding before, there was no way they could now.
They giggled until the sun went down that night over that one.
Late that night as they lay in Lizzie’s bed talking about their dreams for the future, Lizzie turned to Grace and asked, “Who are you going to marry when you grow up?”
“Well, since I already know the answer for you I won’t even think of asking you the same.” Grace laughed while Lizzie smacked her with her feather pillow, and wished with every ounce of her body that Grace could really see the future.
“Come on, you didn’t answer. Who’s it going to be?”
“Let me think...” She fluffed her flaming hair out around on the pillow. “I’m going to marry a rock star.”
“A rock star? That’s kind of weird.”
“No it’s not. I would say a prince, because they’re famous and powerful, but they’re also too stuffy and formal and all they get to do all day is sit around in their castle wearing that big old crown and ordering people to go to war and stuff.”
“Yeah, that does sound kind of boring.”
“But a rock star. He’s got a voice that can sing me to sleep at night or tell me how much he loves me in a song. And he’s famous and powerful, but he also gets to go have fun and enjoy his fame while he’s at it.”
“Kind of like having the cake and eating it.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.”
Lizzie made it all the way past Easter break, but it looked like her luck was out. Slate had been itching for a fight with her for weeks, for some reason that Lizzie didn’t quite understand except for that maybe it was because she was one of the school losers. But was that any good reason to pick on her? Lizzie didn’t think so.
Regardless, Slate had been stalking her between classes and at the end of sixth period he had her cornered in front of her locker like a deer caught in the headlights. Slate’s laugh was decidedly wicked, and she tried her hardest to dodge the doggie breath that he was blowing her direction. It was useless seeing as he had her by her shirtfront and was getting closer by the second.
“Listen Loser Lizzie, someone’s gonna pay for that test I flunked and it just so happens that someone is you.” Why did she have to pay because he flunked a test? She would have asked but figured that would only make the bully spit red. But on second thought, she remembered what Grace had said, and thought she might try it out, seeing as the foreseeable end to her future lay ahead, anyway.
“Sorry Slate, but I fail to figure how you flunking a test is my fault.” Yep, he was spitting red all right.
“What did you say to me?” Lizzie clenched her fists and got ready to punch.
“I said...” But Slate suddenly dropped her and quickly straightened the wrinkles he’d put in her shirt. He backed away quickly and for good measure Lizzie held up her fists in the best fighting pose she could muster and bared her teeth like a rabid dog.
“Look, I got to get to class: we’ll pick this up later.” Then he quickly walked away.
Wow. She had done it, she had actually stood up to the bully, and he had backed down. See, it wasn’t so hard to deal with Slate McDermott after all. Lizzie felt like patting herself on the back, but knew that would look foolish so she turned to finish fishing her books out of the locker before seventh period.
“Lizzie,” She turned when she felt a hand on her shoulder and a definite masculine voice call her name. She stared right into those sparkling green eyes and got lost.
“Are you alright?”
“Ah...” Was that really a squeak that had just come from her throat? Had Payton Cartwright really just called her by name?
“I saw Slate picking on you and I tried to stop him before he did anything too bad. He didn’t hurt you did he?”
“Ah...” Yep, she was squeaking all right. He looked at her kind of funny, then shrugged his shoulders and turned away. She tried her hardest to call after him, but nothing would come. The best she could manage was just before he rounded the corner to head down the next hall. She croaked out a hoarse, “Thanks!” and watched him turn back to her and give that heart-stealing grin that made her and every other girl at Dixie Academy melt to the floor.
But this time it had been all for her.
She floated on cloud nine the rest of the day and on her way home from school. Grace wanted to slap her to wipe the goofy smile from her face, and the dreamy look out of her eyes, but MC told her to leave Liz alone, and find someone else to pick on. Lizzie was oblivious to the whole conversation.
Slate didn’t touch her for the rest of the year. The closest he came was one day after lunch when she saw him stalking her way. She ducked behind the book she was reading and prayed he wouldn’t notice her. Sure enough, he walked past with only a sneer on his face. She thought about the day that Payton had come to her rescue, and she wondered if he had had any part in her near miss of Slate that day, as well.
Sure enough, a minute later she saw Payton saunter away from the general area, and her suspicions were affirmed.
Why was he doing this, she wondered. It wasn’t like anyone had appointed him as her guardian, and no one else in the school seemed to take an interest in her lack of a life. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t have the rest of the school to entertain with his gorgeous good looks that got better by the year, or his wonderful talent at football that had already landed him a spot on the varsity team.
It baffled her, but she certainly wasn’t going to march over to him and ask him to stop protecting her from the school bully. It just puzzled her as to why he would do it. What motive did the most popular boy this side of high school have in watching over her?
Payton slung his backpack down on the floor and stripped off his shirt to change for football practice. Coach had promoted him to the varsity team just after the final game of the season, and he had been ecstatic. He had bee
n practicing with the older boys for several months now, and he felt like it had really been improving his game. If all went well, he’d be able to start a few of the games next year against some of the easier teams in their league.
But he found his mind wandering off to other aspects of life rather than the game at hand. One of which was his current girlfriend, Leena. She was pretty, he had to give her that, but he wasn’t really interested in her anymore. They made a good couple though, and everyone knew that the hottest couple in school was Leena and Payton.
It made him sick to think about it. She was a nice girl, he had to give her that, but she was just so damn pushy. He wasn’t comfortable making out in odd public places all the time, and it seemed like that was all Leena wanted to do. At first it had given him a thrill, but the last straw had been in front of the Sheriff’s office, and that had just grossed him out.
Besides, all she wanted to talk about was her hair or her nails, or one of a million vain things that he assumed all girls must talk about. He’d grown so accustomed to tuning her out, just to preserve his masculinity that he sincerely believed he hadn’t listened to a full conversation of theirs in months.
Nothing was pointing to a happy ending in this relationship. But really, when he thought about it, which he was currently doing as he slipped into his pads and flipped a jersey over the top, he couldn’t be too upset about the prospect of breaking up with her.
More fame and fortune would come from the break-up than from the relationship, he had to admit. She’d have all the guys drooling after her, and he’d have a million fawning girls after him. How bad could that possibly be?
A pair of green eyes floated through his mind, and his thoughts paused on Lizzie Benford. What was it about that girl, he wondered, that made him want to hold her tight and protect her from anything bad that came her way? No one had appointed him her freaking guardian, but still he found himself finding subtle ways of keeping Slate off her back, or one of a dozen other idiots that were determined to use her as their personal insult board.
Whatever it was, though, he thought with a sigh, he needed to get over it quick. She was sweet, but she wasn’t someone he needed to mess around with, end of story. He was a no good football guy that liked to see how far women would go with him, and she... well, she was too sweet. Too innocent. He liked a girl with a little more experience, he told himself, as if he’d ever really gone all the way more than once or twice with the one girl he’d done anything with: Leena.
But that was going to change soon. If, and when, he broke up with her, he was determined to make it in the single world for a while. Not just one girl would tie down his time. Nope. He was going to find out what being an eligible bachelor was like, and only when he was good and ready would he settle for hanging out with one girl again.
He picked up his helmet and headed out the door to the football fields beyond. The smell of fresh cut grass filled his nose, and he smiled when he took a deep breath. The field: his friend, his home. There was no place better to be than standing on the fifty-yard line in center of Dixie Stadium. Hello boys, here comes Payton.
Chapter Ten
Summertime this year was going to be a blast, Lizzie just knew it, because this summer she had Grace and MC to pal around with, and spending her days down by Granny’s pond wouldn’t be half bad. Unfortunately, though, Grace’s father had different plans for his daughter, and he shipped her off to summer camp three days out of school.
Lizzie was totally bummed. She supposed it still wouldn’t be bad to hang out with MC and Skipper, but it wasn’t the same without Gracie around. She spent most of her days reading on the front porch swing with Skipper snoring at her feet and MC singing at the top of her lungs to the headphones she wore like a transplant on her ears. It was getting a little obnoxious, even their parent’s had to admit, but at least she had a decent voice they said to console Lizzie, and she stomped off pouting to her room.
Three boring weeks into summer she’d pulled a scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream into a cone and grabbed a towel and her current book to head down to the pond. Skipper was busy chasing SnagglePuss, the neighbor’s orange and white tabby, and missed her whistle as she headed off down the road.
A group of kids were playing baseball in one of the hay field’s again, and she could see from the road that Payton stood on the center mound, a pile of hay serving as the pitcher’s mound, and focused his concentration on the batter in front of him. She didn’t want to appear like she was spying on them so she watched them as she walked on and could hear them yelling for the base runners to bust a move as she reached the gate to Granny’s pond.
It would have been nice to play with them, but not with Payton around, she told herself. She would only make herself look like a complete fool with the way she always got so nervous around him. It would only make her look like she couldn’t play ball to serve her life. In reality, though, she had been pretty good at baseball. At least she had been when she’d played with all the Chicago kids. Who knew how she would play against all these athletic genes down here in the South.
She left her towel and her flip flops at the base of her favorite tree and shimmied up the bark to her branch. The sun was bright and the day was warm, but it felt good in the shade of the tree’s leaves, and she snuggled up against the trunk and set out to enjoy the story of Huckleberry Finn.
She was too absorbed in the action of the book to notice the bushes rustling, or the lone teenage boy that strutted that unconscious male walk down to the edge of the pond with a fishing pole in tow. Not until she looked up and saw him standing there, Mr. I’m too gorgeous with my glowing green eyes, with his shirt off and only his bright red swim trunks on, did she notice that she was no longer alone at Granny’s pond.
Her heart pounded in her chest, because once again she was in a sticky spot. Lizzie wasn’t certain if she should jump from the tree, and attempt, even though she knew her voice most likely wouldn’t work, to make some excuse as to why she was and wasn’t spying on him. But instead, she tucked her feet up into the branches and prayed he’d leave quickly and without noticing her.
He didn’t leave quickly, but instead he stayed for a good three hours. By the time he left, her butt was so numb from sitting on that hard branch and praying he wouldn’t notice her that she felt like her legs would fall off from lack of circulation. But she had had fun watching him all the same.
He seemed so at ease in his skin, she noticed. She liked watching him slowly cast the line on the pole out into the water, then watch with those perceptive eyes to see if anything beneath the surface would take his bait. When something did, she got a kick out of watching those muscles that were already clearly defined, bunch and buckle underneath the smooth surface of his tanned skin.
And he liked to whistle, she noted. It wasn’t one of those obnoxious whistles that made you cringe when you heard it, but it was one that actually carried a pretty good tune. She closed her eyes for a while and pretended he was serenading her.
She had heard a rumor shortly after school let out for summer that he and Leena had broken up. She didn’t know why but she had actually been sad to hear it. Now instead of only having to contend with one other female in his life, she would have to deal with the hoard of girls that would flock after him now that he was available.
It was hard having a crush on the most popular guy in school, she decided as she sat there staring at his beautiful body wishing she could have a guarantee that he wouldn’t notice her there in that tree.
The emotions kicking around in her body had recently hit high gear, and she’d found herself wanting to know more and more about how the male body ticked. Now as she sat folded up in the leaves high in the tree, she watched that male form she wanted increasingly to know more than anyone else in the world.
His skin had grown slick with perspiration, and she licked her lips when he set down his pole and dove into the water. He swam back and forth for a while, and then just floated on the top of the water like
a turtle sunning himself in the rays of the afternoon sun. When he finally pulled himself from the water and shook himself off like a dog, she had just managed to force herself to read a few more pages of her book. He grabbed his pole and headed back up the path and she breathed a sigh of relief as he headed up the path.
Something must have distracted him though, because he looked back, and looked right at the base of the tree where her towel and sandals lay. She held her breath, ready to die if the moment presented itself, but he never looked up and she felt like fainting when he finally faded off in the distance.
That was a little too close to call.
A week later she had finally convinced herself that sitting on her favorite branch was still okay, after all Payton and his buddies didn’t own the pond, and if he thought she was spying on him then that was his tough luck.
But she didn’t feel so brave when she spotted him making his way down the path to the pond some forty-five minutes later. He carried that same fishing pole, and wore the red swim trunks that made her mouth salivate at the sight.
He went right about his business of setting up the fish shop, and whistled a happy tune as he did. He made his way slowly around the edge of the pond, stopping here and there to watch and see what the fish did below the surface.
Lizzie had forced herself to read another page in her book, and had finally lost herself in the words on the page when she noticed she didn’t hear him whistling anymore. She looked up, startled, because she didn’t see him fishing at the pond. Had he left? No, because his pole was lying over there on the ground. Was he swimming? Was he drowning? She hadn’t seen him come up for air recently, and she didn’t see any air bubbles floating up to the top.
She leaned forward, skimming the surface of the pond, holding her breath, waiting to determine if she needed to race to Payton’s rescue. Yeah right. Like Payton needed rescuing from anything.
The Heart Will Lead You Home Page 9
