Leap of Faith

by Jamie Blair

  “That was not funny!” I stand up and hurl the pillow at him again. It spins fast, corner over corner, like a Chinese star. He reaches out to grab it but misses, and it catches him between his legs.

  “Oopfh!” he groans through a rush of air. His legs squeeze together, and he makes the time-out sign with his hands.

  I suck my lips in so I don’t laugh. My cheeks are so tight, they ache. “Sorry,” I mutter. “I’m disqualified. You win.”

  Addy screams from my bedroom.

  “Game over,” Chris says between deep breaths. “Thank God. You’re killing me.”

  “Next time kiss me, or wear a cup.” I pad into my room feeling my cheeks turn red.

  When I bring Addy out, he has a bottle ready and reaches for her. “I’ll take her.”

  “You don’t have to.” Her eyes blink back and forth between the two of us a few times but then stay on him. I swear, if she could choose between us, it would be him every single time.

  He sits on the couch, feeds her, and watches Letterman. I sit beside them, not sure if I’m thankful for Addy’s interruption or bummed out by it.

  It was fast—our attraction—and strong. If this starts . . . I’m afraid to think about it. Jason was wrong. I’m not sexually repressed after all.

  chapter

  fifteen

  The next day, Addy and I have another walk to the park hijacked by Gail and supermaniac Jonathan. I swear I have to find an alternate route to avoid going past her house.

  Janine and Emma are here too. The kids are playing in the backyard, swinging on the swing set. I sit down at the picnic table beside Janine. The sun’s blazing hot. I have to hold my hand over my eyes to see Gail across the table.

  Addy starts squawking and rubbing her fists over her eyes.

  “Why don’t you lay her under the tree, in the shade?” Gail suggests, pointing to a big, shady oak between the picnic table and the barrage of play equipment—swing set, sandbox, battery-powered Jeep—that makes her backyard look like Toys “R” Us exploded all over it.

  I eye Emma and Jonathan, weighing the odds of the two of them loading Addy into the Jeep without me noticing. “All right.”

  As I’m spreading out Addy’s blanket and getting her settled, Gail goes inside for lemonade. This is the perfect time to talk to Janine about watching Addy. Not that I want her to, but I’m desperate, and there’s no way I’m asking Gail to watch Addy with Jonathan in the same house.

  I slip back onto the bench beside her and shade my eyes.

  “She’s a good baby,” Janine says, gazing over at Addy.

  Perfect opening. Maybe this was meant to be. “She really is. She hardly ever cries and takes lot of naps still during the day.”

  “I wanted another baby, but my husband is out of town a lot. He didn’t want another kid he couldn’t spend time with.” She shrugs, tears her eyes from Addy, and sighs.

  Crap, it seems so insensitive to ask her right now. I can’t wait, though. I have to go back to Mariani’s and make money. “Janine, I was wondering if you would watch Addy three or four nights a week while I’m at work. I’d pay you, of course.” I have no clue how I’m going to pay her.

  She taps her lip, considering. “I’ve always thought Emma needed another little kid around. She gets so bored watching TV and playing by herself. She has Jonathan. . . .” Janine rolls her eyes. “Those two are like a tornado together. Not that Addy could play with her, but it might be good for Emma. Kind of like a baby sister.” Her head starts nodding, like it’s made the decision for her without filling her in. Then her eyes find mine and light up. She smiles. “Okay. I think that would work out. What days will you bring her over, and what time?”

  “I’ll call and get my schedule as soon as I get home. I work from five until eleven.”

  Her lips pull back. “Sheesh, that’s late.”

  My heart jumps. This is when she tells me no.

  Then she waves it off. “It’s okay, though. I’ll put her to sleep at her normal time. It won’t be a problem.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Positive.” Her eyes dart behind me. “Don’t even think about it!”

  I turn around in time to see Jonathan give Addy a leaf covered in sand that he unburied in his sandbox. The kid’s a walking hazard to Addy’s short life. “No!” I lunge the ten feet from the picnic table to Addy’s blanket.

  He shoves her hand into her face, smashing the leaf to her lips, giggles like a lunatic, and dashes away. Addy screams, and I see sand speckling her tongue. “Asshole kid,” I mutter under my breath.

  I swipe my finger through her mouth, trying to collect all the grit. She’s red and flailing around like I’m choking her.

  “What happened?” Gail asks, charging toward me with a glass of lemonade in each hand. “What did Jonathan do now?”

  “Nothing. Just playing a game. He didn’t know Addy wasn’t old enough to eat sand and leaves.”

  “Eat sand and . . . Jonathan!” She storms off after Son of Satan.

  “I’m taking her home!” I yell after her, over Addy’s garbled, spit-and-sand-filled shrieks.

  I wave to Janine, hold Addy against me, and pull the stroller down the sidewalk behind us. “Don’t worry, Add, when you’re older you can get him back. You’ve got plenty of time to plot your revenge.”

  Mrs. B’s head pops out the front door. “What happened to our baby?” She starts down the front steps.

  “Sand in her mouth. She’s okay.”

  Chris and his dad come out of the garage and stand in the driveway. “It’s cool?” Chris asks.

  “It’s cool.” I smile at our first inside joke.

  Chris laughs and turns back toward the garage, where his dad’s already disappeared again. Mrs. B tugs Addy out of my arms. “I’ll get her cleaned up and settled.” She presses her cheek against Addy’s and mutters baby talk in her tiny ear. “Go get Chris and make him take a break. Those two have been cleaning out that garage all day. I have warm cookies inside, just out of the oven.”

  I cross in a diagonal path through the yard to the driveway. Chris has his back to me. The muscles in his back shift as he lifts a toolbox and sets it on a shelf. His jeans fit exactly how they should. Not tight, just snug enough in all the right places. I can’t believe he didn’t kiss me last night. Maybe I should just kiss him and get it over with since he keeps bailing on the idea.

  Mr. Buckridge coughs. My eyes fly to where he’s standing and watching me ogle his son. “Chris . . . ,” he says.

  Chris turns around as I die inside and vow to never be within one hundred yards of his dad again, who now has no doubt in his mind that I’m a big slutty teenage mom who wants to screw his son. Only the last part is accurate, but I don’t want him to know that.

  “Hey,” Chris says, wiping his hands on his dirty jeans.

  “Hey. Your grandma says you should take a break. She made cookies.”

  He wipes his sweaty forehead on his shoulder. “What time is it?”

  “Around four, I think.” I hook my thumbs in my pockets and rock up on my toes, darting glances at Mr. Buckridge out of the corner of my eye.

  Chris steps forward and leans in to whisper in my ear. “He doesn’t bite.”

  I push his shoulder and roll my eyes. “Are you coming in, Mr. Buckridge? Or I could bring some out if you want.” I raise my brows at Chris.

  “Thank you, Leah. I’ll be there in just a minute. I want to finish sorting these nails, screws, and whatever this is.” He holds up an L-shaped silver rod the length of a nail and studies it.

  Chris chuckles to himself and hooks my arm with his, dragging me out of the garage. “I have practice in an hour. It’s my bass player, Jeremy’s, birthday. The guys are bringing their girlfriends, and we’re hanging out after we play.”

  Shit. I was hoping we could watch TV, but not really watch it this time. Guess that’s out. “Well, have fun. I’ll let you know what you miss on Letterman.” I grab the han
dle on the back door, but he pulls me out back to the patio.

  “I think you missed the part where you’re coming with me.” He tugs my hair. His eyes are the same color as the pool water.

  “I think you missed the part where you ask me.” I’m trying to ignore the pricks of sweat bursting out all over my body.

  “I said the guys . . .” He sighs and runs his hands over his face and up through his hair. “Would you go with me? I’d like you to.”

  I think he’s implying I’m his girlfriend.

  I can’t swallow.

  He hasn’t even kissed me yet.

  I can actually see my heart pounding when I glance down at my chest.

  “What about Addy? I’d have to bring her.”

  “Addy can stay with me!” Mrs. B calls through the screen door. I swear she has ears like a bat except when Columbo’s on TV. “Not that I was listening to you two.”

  “Thanks, Gram,” Chris answers. Then he holds my eyes for a few seconds, which feels like forever. “Well?”

  “Yeah. Sure, okay. I’ll go with you.” My insides are freaking out. I’m going to either puke or scream. Maybe both.

  This can’t be happening. I came here to escape a life, not make a new one. Everything’s too screwed up to start something this good. It’s like putting whipped cream on moldy leftovers.

  He doesn’t even know my real name.

  He thinks I’m eighteen.

  He’s going to end up hating me. I don’t think I can take that.

  “You know what? Maybe I should stay with Addy.” I glance over my shoulder to the screen door. I can’t see inside, but I can hear the clinks and clatters of pots and pans and dishes.

  His touch on my arm makes my head jerk back around. “Come with me. It’ll be fun.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “Anyway, I’m the superhero of best second dates. You wouldn’t want to miss that.”

  God, I so wouldn’t. Especially if it involves his wide, perfect lips on mine. “Okay. I’ll go change.”

  His eyes run over me. “You look fine.” He gestures to his jeans and T-shirt—which doesn’t have a superhero on it today. “I’m wearing this. We’re just hanging out in Jeremy’s basement. No big deal.”

  I wonder what the other girls will be wearing. Somehow I don’t think my ratty cutoff khakis will impress anyone. “You look good. I’m a mess.” Then I realize if his friends already know that I’m a runaway teen with a baby, they think I’m a trash ball anyway. I don’t know why I’m going to bother.

  “I’m sweaty and dirty. I’ve been cleaning out the garage all day, and you think I look good?” He grins. “I like you more and more all the time.”

  My ears and neck are burning. “I’ll be right back. I need to call Gretchen anyway and tell her I can be scheduled to work again. Janine from down the street is going to watch Addy.”

  “Oh, the gossip hound. Perfect. Can’t wait to hear all about the scandalous things we’re doing together when the rumors get back to my grandma.”

  He laughs, and my face burns even more thinking about us being scandalous together. “Be right back.” I dart inside. Mrs. B and Addy aren’t in the kitchen, but I catch a glimpse of them through the front door, sitting on the porch. My feet take the stairs two at a time, and I lean against my door after closing it.

  He said he likes me more and more all the time. I have to go for it or push him away. Even considering pushing him away is a lie. I can’t do it. I’m already too completely gone over him. That leaves me with one option—go for it. Tonight.

  • • •

  Chris sits on a wobbly stool with his black Converse high-tops resting on the wooden rails between its legs. I love the way his fingers work, back and forth, light then hard, gripping and thrumming his guitar strings.

  His grandpa’s cap is pulled on backward, and his eyes are closed as he belts out the last notes of the ballad he’s singing. His voice gives me goose bumps. It sounds so different from when he talks and laughs.

  It’s hot in jeans, sitting on a rump-sprung chair in Jeremy’s basement. Jeremy’s and Aaron’s girlfriends are huddled together on a beat-up couch, talking about the high-heeled sandals one of them just bought.

  Who the hell cares? I’m so beyond worrying about the latest shoes. I’m pretty much at the worrying-if-you-have-shoes part of life. I tried to be nice to them and join their conversation, but I have nothing to add to a discussion about lip gloss and hair highlights.

  They ignore me. It works for all of us. I just want to listen to Chris sing and wish they’d shut the hell up.

  He ends the song, and the band talks about a part they want to change. The girls are still jabbering. I don’t think they realize the music stopped—or they don’t care. I feel stupid sitting here, like I wandered in off the street.

  I shouldn’t be here.

  I should be with Addy.

  I have to go home.

  I stand up and move toward the basement door, catching Chris’s eye. “Leah?” He saunters over to me. “Where are you going?”

  My hand fumbles with the doorknob. “I should go. It’s not far. I can walk.”

  His eyes pop open wide. “Did something happen?” He shoots a glance at the girls on the couch. “Are they ignoring you? I’ll say something to them.”

  I grip his arm tight. “No! Don’t say anything. It’s not their fault. I just don’t have much in common with them.”

  He snorts. “No, you don’t. Thank God. Those girls would drive me crazy.” He looks back over at them. “There’s no substance—not to either of them. All fluff.” He shakes his head and rests his hands on my hips. “You get it. You know life’s about more than the mall.” He lifts his chin, nodding back behind him to his band. “And I know we’re never going to be rock stars. Those guys don’t.”

  I want to get out of here and just be alone with him—anywhere—doing anything.

  “Come on.” He sits down on the couch and pulls me onto his lap. All eyes are on us now.

  “Chris—catch.” Jeremy tosses him a can of beer from the basement fridge. “Want one, Leah?” Jeremy seems like a cool guy. He has shaggy black hair and a big nose and laughs a lot in a raspy voice.

  “Umm . . . no, thanks.”

  “Here, babe.” Jeremy hands a can to his girlfriend, Angie, with a kiss. She’s tiny, with blond hair and a voice like a second grader, all cute and high pitched.

  Jeremy takes Angie’s feet onto his lap and slips her shoes off.

  I shift on Chris’s lap, not used to how it feels and wishing it had happened in private before happening in public. He’s an idiot.

  Aaron plops down in the chair I’d been sitting in. “What’s up, Leah? What’d you think of that last song? Chris wants to open the show with it, but I think it’s too slow. We need something bigger”—he smacks his hands together—“louder, don’t you think?”

  Chris’s hand finds chords up and down my back. Before I can answer, Aaron’s girlfriend—the one with the new sandals—moves to sit on the floor at Aaron’s feet and chimes in. “You totally need something explosive to start a show. You don’t want to lose them during the first song.” She admires her new shoes and runs her fingers through her freshly highlighted hair.

  “I didn’t ask you, Vee,” Aaron says, taking her can and opening it for her.

  “You never have to ask.” She smacks his leg. “My opinions are given freely.”

  Maybe she’s okay after all.

  “Well?” Chris asks, pushing my hair aside so he can see my face. “What do you think?”

  I have zero experience with song selections for shows. I don’t really know. “Whatever you guys think. . . .”

  “I think we need to try this weed I got from Manny.” Aaron pulls a baggie out of his pocket. “Got my pipe?” he asks Vee.

  She opens her purse and pulls out a pipe. “Here.”

  Jeremy pushes Angie’s legs off of his lap, gets up, and fishes his own pipe out of his guitar case. “Manny got some great shit from som
e Cuban supplier,” he tells Chris.

  Chris doesn’t say anything, just nods.

  “It better be good,” Angie says. “You’ve been talking about it for a week, making me crazy.” She laughs and takes a drink of her beer.

  I’m stiff and rigid.

  “What’s wrong?” Chris whispers in my ear.

  “Nothing.” I don’t look at him.

  Aaron and Jeremy fill and light their pipes. The familiar smell of sweet smoke fills the room. The image of me flushing Mom’s down the toilet comes to mind.

  Vee crawls onto Aaron’s lap and kisses him. He blows smoke into her mouth. Beside us, Angie pulls her shirt over her head, revealing a low-cut tank top underneath, and straddles Jeremy’s lap. He passes her the pipe, and she takes a deep drag and holds it in.

  With the stripping, kissing, and smoking, I’m ready to bolt.

  I stand. “I’m going home.”

  Chris yanks me back down on the couch. “What? Why?” he whispers.

  I look around. “I’m not into this.” I pull my hand free.

  His finger hooks my belt loop. “Fine. I’ll take you home.”

  I don’t wait for him to tell his friends good-bye, just walk directly toward the stairs. I hear mutterings about us going to be alone and how he’s lucky he lives with his chick and can get busy anytime.

  I hustle up the steps and wait for him outside in his truck.

  He comes out looking super pissed. If I could see his eyes in the dark, they’d be green for sure. He gets in and slams his door. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “You’re the superhero of worst second dates ever—that sucked!” I lean my forehead against the passenger-side window and stare out. It hits me that he shouldn’t be driving. I turn to him and hold out my hand. “Give me your keys.”

  “I’m fine.” He starts the engine.

  I open my door and hop out. “Fine. I’ll walk.”

  “Jesus Christ, Leah.” He scoots over to the passenger side. “Happy?”

  I drive us home. We don’t speak. He blasts the radio.

  We get out of the truck, and he storms to the back patio, following me. “What did I do?”