Artificial Sweethearts (North Pole, Minnesota)

by Julie Hammerle

  Karen grabbed onto Tinka’s arm as she tripped over a tree root. “Sorry!”

  “It’s okay,” Tinka said. “Hold on to me if you need to.”

  “I will, but only because I can’t see where I’m going.”

  The girls clutched each other in the darkness, stumbling over something every ten feet or so. As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Tinka found Sam, Jane, Brian from the coffee shop, and three of his friends waiting for her and Karen down by the beach, sitting in a ring of Adirondack chairs around a cooler. Tinka made a silent wish that Jane would have fun tonight and forget all about Colin forever. He wasn’t worth it.

  A table was set up next to the cooler with whiskey, rum, Jell-O shots, and mixers. The guys and Jane were all drinking from bottles, but Sam had his usual can of root beer. Tinka waved to him nervously. They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since Monday. He gave her a curt nod, which nearly tore her heart in half until Tinka reminded herself that she was feeling rejected by her fake boyfriend, whom she herself had been avoiding, which was the most pathetic thing on the planet.

  Over the next half hour or so, the entire teenage population of North Pole showed up to the party in Sam’s backyard. There were folks Tinka recognized from walking up and down Main Street. There were others she’d never seen before in her life. And, of course, there was Dylan Greene.

  “Who invited you?” Tinka dug her toes into the sand on Sam’s beach as Dylan sauntered up to her.

  “Jane.” He offered Tinka a beer, which she rejected. Dylan opened it for himself instead. “How’s your awful, debilitating injury?” He took a swig from the bottle.

  She rubbed her shoulder. “Still sore.” Tinka had cancelled that morning’s golf lesson because her shoulder “hurt.”

  “You were avoiding me.”

  Tinka dropped her arm. “Nothing gets by you.”

  “Your boyfriend’s making the rounds.” Dylan nodded toward Sam, who was about twenty feet away, talking to two very pretty girls who were not Tinka.

  “As he’s allowed to do.” Tinka stared at Sam, willing him to ditch those other girls—whoever they were—and come over to save her.

  “Jane told me you’re always a lot of fun at these parties. I believe the word she used was ‘legendary,’” Dylan said.

  “She was being sarcastic.”

  Sam finally glanced over at Tinka, who tried to subtly wave him over without Dylan noticing. Sam got the message. He left the other girls and trudged over to Tinka.

  “Hey.” He was making it a point not to look at her, so she did the same to him. She knew when she wasn’t wanted. She could take a hint. Her eyes stung, but she blinked the tears away. Tinka would not lose her cool over the end of their fauxmance. She was tougher than that. “I need your help with something,” Sam said. “Do you mind?”

  Without a word, Sam scooped up an empty cardboard box that had previously held a case of beer. Tinka followed him over to Brian, who was chatting with another guy who looked a lot like him. Tinka guessed they were brothers. “Garlands,” Sam said.

  “Sam,” Brian’s brother said. “I can’t believe you’re finally throwing a party with booze.”

  “Not my party. Give me your keys.” Sam held out the box. The moonlight made shadows on his arms, highlighting the definition of his muscles, not that Tinka noticed or anything, because that would be silly.

  “What?” Brian said. “No.”

  “Yes. No one is leaving this house with a car if they’ve been drinking. I’m the key master.”

  Brian and his doppelgänger brother tossed their keys into the box.

  “The key master?” Tinka asked, momentarily forgetting that they were giving each other the silent treatment as she followed Sam to the next group.

  He turned around, fighting the grin that was playing on his lips, which made Tinka’s heart soar. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed that smile the past few days. “Haven’t you seen Say Anything?”

  She shook her head. Sam had spoken actual words to her.

  “Shameful.”

  They were talking again, and all it took was getting him on the topic of movies. She wasn’t going to let this moment go. “Maybe you could show it to me sometime.”

  He peered down at her, right into her eyes. Her heart sped up. “Really?”

  “Yeah. You have much to teach me about movies.”

  He looked both happy and pained, and Tinka knew she was probably wearing a similar expression. Part of her wanted to run away, but the rest of her wanted to grab Sam’s hand and drag him up to his house to watch that movie. Actually, that part of her was winning out. Either way, she rooted herself to the ground. They had to stay at the party—to make sure their friends were okay.

  “But what’s the key master?” Tinka ran to keep up with him, desperate to keep him talking.

  “In the movie, John Cusack as Lloyd Dobbler—one of the greatest characters and character names ever—holds on to everybody’s keys at this party. He kind of gets forced into it, but he takes the job very seriously. He won’t give them back unless they’re sober.”

  “Good guy.”

  “Very good guy.”

  Tinka smiled. “You’re kind of a Lloyd Dobbler, aren’t you Sam?”

  “There are worse people to be.” He paused, like he was deciding whether or not to keep the conversation going. “And you’re kind of a Diane Court, but you don’t know what that means yet.”

  “I hope it’s a compliment,” Tinka said.

  Sam grinned down at her. “It is. Believe me.” Heat rose from Tinka’s feet to her ears. This was different from the charge between them at the video store. This was real, all-encompassing, “if you ever stop talking to me again I’ll dissolve into a puddle of despair” emotion. It was dangerous. Tinka didn’t do out-of-control drama. She always kept things even, measured, and safely at arm’s length.

  Breaking the spell, Tinka grabbed the box from him and shouted at the next group. “Key master here! Put your keys in the box.”

  After she and Sam had collected all the keys and he had locked them inside a cabinet in the cabana, he and Tinka flopped onto some chairs and opened two cans of pop. She leaned back against the hard, plastic chair. Her shoulders were no longer hunched and her neck wasn’t tense, which they had been for days. She’d been so ambivalent about this party before, but maybe it was just what she needed.

  Jane had put on some music and was dancing in front of the speaker with two of Dylan’s friends. Karen was talking to some guy Tinka had never seen before, but she seemed to be enjoying herself. Little groups gathered here and there, drinking and laughing. They were in the good part, when everyone was loose and happy, before things started getting sloppy.

  Sam introduced Tinka to everyone who came by, and she tried hard to remember their names—Elena and Oliver and Marley and Kevin and Katie and a million other people. Sam referred to her as his girlfriend, and she couldn’t help smiling every time.

  “Harper told me Sam was dating someone,” Elena said. “Treat him well.”

  “I will.” Tinka instinctively pulled the ring pendant out from under her shirt and clutched it.

  “You’re wearing the ring.” Sam wrinkled his forehead.

  Tinka gripped it harder. She’d forgotten she was wearing it, probably because she hadn’t taken it off in days. It calmed her. She caught herself playing with it whenever she got upset—like at her lessons with Dylan or when a text from Colin popped up on her phone. “It’s my good luck charm,” she told Sam.

  Their eyes locked and Tinka’s breath stopped. She’d nearly added, “You’re my good luck charm,” but she caught herself in time.

  Sam’s lips parted, drawing Tinka’s focus to them. “Good thing you didn’t pick a Tootsie Roll, then. Candy is temporary, but plastic jewelry is forever.”

  Tinka leaned closer to him, under the guise of trying to hear him better. He was a magnet, and she couldn’t stop herself. “Sam, I—”

  She d
idn’t have an ending for that sentence, but it didn’t matter. His eyes were on Jane as she crossed in front of them and bent down to grab a beer from the cooler in the middle of the ring of chairs. When she stood, the bottle slipped out of her hands and into the sand. “Whoops.” She picked it up. “It was pointing at you, Brian, guess we have to kiss now.”

  “Yikes,” whispered Tinka. “Here we go. Here comes the sloppiness.” She put a hand to her chest, willing her heart to slow. Jane had saved the day. Tinka had never been so relieved to see a drunk person in her life.

  Jane sashayed over to Brian and planted a chaste little kiss on his cheek. Then she passed him the bottle. “Your turn.”

  Brian stared at the label. “Are we really playing Spin-the-Bottle? Are we thirteen?”

  Jane traipsed across the circle and took her seat next to Tinka. “Dark party tradition,” Jane said.

  Tinka shook her head. “That’s not accurate.” The dark party didn’t need little games like these to manufacture debauchery. Tinka knew that too well.

  Shrugging, Brian spun the bottle in the middle of the circle. It landed on Marley. “Marley, my dear,” he said. “I believe we’ve done this before.”

  With a cheesy grin, Marley stood up and kissed Brian on the lips before snatching the bottle from him.

  “This is such a colossal mess,” Tinka whispered to Sam.

  Sam shrugged. “It’s just Spin-the-Bottle. In a town this small, most of these people have already kissed each other at some point anyway.”

  “Have you?” Tinka’s face snapped toward him. She’d assumed Sam wasn’t the kissing-random-girls type, but what did she know? Queasiness settled in Tinka’s stomach.

  He didn’t answer as Marley spun the bottle and it landed squarely on Sam, who grinned big as this Marley person stepped over and stood in front of him, a flirtatious smile on her lips. “Sammy.” She held out her hands and helped Sam up. Tinka bit her cheek hard.

  Sam glanced down at Tinka, then turned back to Marley, who was still clutching his hands. “I’m not playing. Spin again.”

  “Whatever.” Marley let go and turned away from him.

  The feeling in Tinka’s gut was jealousy. She hadn’t realized it at first, but that’s what it was. She was jealous this other girl wanted to kiss Sam. That emotion was unacceptable. Tinka had no right or reason to feel possessive about her fake boyfriend kissing another person. “Play if you want. I don’t care.”

  “Your girlfriend doesn’t care.” Marley pivoted toward him again.

  Sam gave Tinka one last look, but she refused to meet his eyes. “Okay then.” Sam put his arm around Marley’s back, dipped her and planted a kiss squarely on her mouth. It was a movie kiss, like from a classic film, all for show. Tinka’s jaw tightened, waiting for him to break the connection, but he didn’t. She started counting. The kiss lasted one…two…three seconds. Too long. The rest of the party got into it, cheering Sam on. Then he helped Marley stand upright and the two of them high-fived before she stumbled off toward one of the empty chairs.

  Sam walked to the middle of the circle and examined the bottle. Tinka’s body shivered despite the fact that it was ninety degrees out, and she realized she actually did feel sick to her stomach. Tinka put a hand to her forehead. It was clammy, but cool. Still, maybe she should go lie down. She might be coming down with something. That would explain why she’d been acting out of sorts all night.

  Tinka stood as Sam set the bottle on the ground. She’d turned away from the circle before he could spin it.

  “Ooh-ooh.” Jane clapped. “I finally get to see you two kiss.”

  Tinka turned back to see where the bottle had landed. It was pointing right at her. There was no mistaking it.

  “Go on,” Jane sang. “Kiss your boyfriend.”

  Every eye on the beach was watching them, and the sickness in Tinka’s stomach morphed into butterflies. All her concern over potential illness floated away. The bottle had spoken. She was supposed to kiss Sam.

  He hadn’t moved from his place next to the bottle. He was waiting for Tinka’s cue. She touched the ring around her neck and marched toward him. It was just a kiss. One kiss. She’d kissed plenty of people before. This was no big deal.

  And she could for sure kiss better than that Marley girl. Of that, Tinka was certain.

  When she reached him, Sam bent down and whispered, “Are you sure?”

  Tinka stared him straight in the eye. “Kiss me, Sam.”

  She didn’t have to tell him twice. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she clasped her hands behind his neck. She drew in a deep breath. This was going to be nothing. The kiss was going to be clinical, on par with a doctor’s exam or a handshake. It’d be like the time her Aunt Marie had leaned in for a kiss at Thanksgiving and accidentally hit Tinka’s mouth.

  But the butterflies multiplied as soon as Sam’s lips touched hers. Tingles spread up and down her spine and through her limbs. She had to clutch Sam’s neck tighter to stay upright, deepening the kiss, which lasted way, way more than three seconds—take that, Marley.

  Soon, however, Tinka’s brain kicked in. She’d let jealousy get the best of her. She was acting like a common, emotional fool. Her mind screamed stop, but Tinka fought it. This was the first and last time her lips would touch Sam’s, and she needed an imprint of this moment. She memorized how the soft bristles of hair at the base of his neck felt against her fingertips and how his strong hands took up so much real estate on the small of her back.

  Finally, eventually, Tinka backed away, her eyes lowered, her hands pushing on his shoulders. Party sounds filled her ears. People were chatting, laughing, opening cans and bottles. Time hadn’t stopped for anyone but Tinka and Sam.

  “So…that happened,” he whispered.

  “Very convincing.” Avoiding Sam’s gaze, Tinka dropped her arms and took a step back toward the edge of the circle. “Good show.”

  …

  Tinka booked it up to Sam’s house after their kiss. She’d mumbled something he didn’t quite catch, then high-tailed it across the grass and up to the deck.

  Marley sidled up to him. “Where’d she go?”

  “Bathroom or something,” Sam said. “I don’t know.”

  “I was worried she was mad about our kiss,” Marley asked.

  Tinka slid the door shut behind her as she disappeared into the house. “She wasn’t mad. She’d told me it was fine before it happened.”

  Marley shrugged. “She looked upset.”

  “You think?” Sam rubbed the back of his neck, where Tinka’s hands had just been.

  “Definitely.”

  Sam’s brain hadn’t gotten back up to speed yet. He was still living and reliving that kiss with Tinka. It was possible he’d never stop thinking about it. He kept picturing himself sitting in a movie theater, but the projector was showing the same thing on a loop—Tinka and Sam, arms around each other, lips touching. Sam could watch that movie for the rest of his life.

  Jane tried to keep the Spin-the-Bottle game going, but people quickly lost interest. Some started heading home. Sam handed car keys back to those who were sober and opened up the cabana for the people who wanted to crash. He put on a movie—Team America: World Police—to pacify the crowd, and locked the remaining keys in the cabinet again.

  As he left the cabana, he snuck a peek at the house. Tinka was still there, as far as he knew. She was inside Sam’s house. She hadn’t gone back to her parents’ place, which meant she was waiting for him, which meant…Sam had no idea.

  Karen was sitting in the abandoned Adirondack circle, talking to Eric Joyce, who was a sophomore and a decent, if dull person.

  “You good?” Sam asked Karen. His palms were sweating. Tinka was waiting for him for one of two reasons: either she wanted to break things off with him entirely or she wanted to upgrade their fake relationship to a real one. Both options were equally terrifying. Door number one led to a broken heart, but door number two led to his bedroom, possibly, maybe, holy
crap.

  “Yeah.” She nodded to her new friend. “Eric was just telling me about his family’s Christmas sweater tradition. They wear holiday stuff from the day after Thanksgiving until spring. He owns twenty different ones, all made by his grandmother, mother, and sisters.” She widened her eyes.

  “Twenty, wow.” This wasn’t news to him. The Joyces were known for their ugly holiday sweaters. Sam’s eyes swung around the party. “Have you seen Jane?”

  Karen pointed to the pier. Jane was sitting with Kevin Snow. Not Kevin Snow. Anybody but Kevin Snow. This was going to end in disaster. Since Tinka was M.I.A., he was going to have to take over her job and keep an eye on her friends.

  As if reading his mind, Karen nodded toward the house. “I’ve got Jane. You go find Tinka.”

  Sam’s stomach plummeted. Break up or bedroom. “You sure? I can stick around.”

  “I’m sure. I haven’t had anything to drink, and”—she nodded toward Eric—“I need to know more about these sweaters, obviously.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Sam’s eyes scanned the beach. He recycled some empty bottles, stacked chairs, and blew out the citronella candles.

  The kiss still played in Sam’s mind, but it was no longer a scene from a fairy tale. Each new version highlighted potential problems—he was too eager, he was too sweaty, she’d been playing a part, she was trying to deflect Dylan, she wasn’t really into the kiss at all, Sam had imagined everything. That was the truth, wasn’t it? He was the naive nerd, and she was this beautiful, experienced girl who was very good at pretending. So good, she’d managed to convince him.

  And now she was going to end this.

  As Sam approached the deck, he spotted Tinka in the kitchen, staring into the fridge.

  Slowly, he opened the sliding glass door and stepped inside the house. He shut the door behind him, but stayed near the exit. He was about to lose her. He felt it in the air. She was going to run, just like Karen had promised.

  Tinka kept her eyes on the fridge. “So, that kiss…”