Before I could say no, Brandon was on his way into his house. A few moments later, he came out with two pairs of skates.
Brandon handed me a tiny vintage pair of worn white dainty leather skates. His were in sharp contrast — sturdy, bold, and black.
He wiped off snow from the bench of the picnic table with his glove and offered me a seat. We sat down and removed our boots.
“I think these are a little big,” I said, trying one on.
Brandon pulled my skate-wearing foot up onto his lap. “You just need to tighten them.”
I loved how Brandon took charge — not in a bossy or controlling way but in a confident manner. I sat back as he tugged on the laces. I was mesmerized that he was being so attentive to me. “Now the other,” he said.
“A girl could get used to this,” I said. I continued to stare at him until he was finished.
It had been a few years since I’d put on a pair of skates. I was shaky when we stood, but Brandon handled himself like a pro.
“It’s easy, just relax.” He threw his other glove onto the table and extended his hand. I grasped it in mine. Even though I had stretchy gloves on, I could feel the power and warmth from his grip. I wobbled on the grass until we reached the frozen pond. I was a bit nervous, imagining myself lying flat on my back within seconds.
Brandon smiled and helped me onto the ice. It took me several moments to balance. “It’s like riding a bike, right?” he said.
“Only on ice,” I said.
“Yes, I guess there is that,” he said.
“Now, let’s go.”
“We have to move, too?”
Brandon began to glide, taking me with him. My legs quaked underneath me. Brandon was as confident skating on frozen ice as he’d be if he was walking on the ground.
“You are thinking too much,” he said. “Let your mind and body relax.”
How could I not think? If I fell, I’d be smacking myself on a freezing pond, not to mention the embarrassment I’d feel in front of him.
“Here. Look into my eyes.” He took both of my hands and we faced each other. I stared up into his warm and brilliant gaze as he began to slowly skate backward, pulling me forward.
My legs became like Jell-O and I clenched his hands. I wanted to take off my gloves so I could feel his skin against mine, but I was afraid he’d feel how nervous I really was.
“Now talk to me,” he said.
“I have to talk, too?”
“Yes,” he said. “What are your favorite things to do?” I still struggled to keep my gait relaxed; the more I tried the more I tensed up.
“Uh… I like to skate, but obviously I don’t do it very often. I like to do things in the outdoors, but I really never get the chance to. So I mostly go to the mall, talk on the phone, hang with my friends.”
“I see you writing in your notebooks. But you aren’t taking notes. What are you writing?”
“Uh… nothing.”
“It doesn’t seem like nothing. You always seem very focused.”
I couldn’t tell him that I was writing down his name next to lips and hearts. I also couldn’t tell him the other things I wrote for fear he’d laugh.
As we continued to skate, my legs relaxed and I began to gain confidence.
“So what are you writing?” he repeated.
“Just silliness. Stories and poems.”
“What kind of stories?”
“One of the stories is about a guy who saves a girl from a pack of wolves.”
“I hope it has a happy ending,” he said.
“It does,” I said.
“And what happens to the girl?”
“She becomes a nurse so she can help others.”
“And the guy?”
“Well… he’s bitten by the wolves,” I said, thinking. “And it’s underneath a full moon… so I suppose he could become a werewolf.”
“Ah…” he said. “I like it. But couldn’t he become a professional hockey player instead?”
I smiled. “Sure, I guess.”
“And what happens to the guy and the girl?”
I didn’t know what to say, but I knew what I wanted to say — that he falls in love with her. But what I wanted to say and what I could admit to him were very different things.
Just then my cell went off. It rang a funky ring. It was Ivy.
“You can get that,” he said as we continued skating. He let my right hand go and I answered my phone.
“What are you doing?” my best friend asked.
If I said holding hands with Brandon Maddox and skating on his pond, she wouldn’t believe me. Nor did I really want her to.
“You sound out of breath,” she continued. “I’m on my way to pick you up.”
“Uh… I’m not home,” I said, alarmed.
Brandon and I continued to skate as I talked.
“Then where are you? I’ll come get you.” Ivy sounded impatient. “We have to work on our papers. You are the one who usually reminds me.”
“Uh… give me a little while and I’ll meet you at my house,” I said.
“Fine, I’ll see you there.”
We hung up.
“You have to go?” Brandon asked with a hint of disappointment.
Neither one of us put on the brakes as we continued to coast around the pond.
“Not yet. What about you?” I asked. “Tell me something. Why did you move to Legend’s Run?”
“My father was transferred to Europe, so I came here to stay with my grandparents.”
“What does your father do?”
“He’s a scientist.”
“Wow — that is cool.”
“Yes, it is, except when his job takes him out of the country.”
“What about your mother?”
“She hasn’t been in the picture for years.”
My heart plummeted. I felt so sorry for Brandon, being without his mother and now his father.
“So your father is from Legend’s Run?”
“Both of my parents are. My dad’s parents stayed here, and I heard my mom’s family all moved on. I really wouldn’t know. Since my mom left years ago, we haven’t kept in touch with her side.”
He let go of my hands and skidded to a stop as I kept on gliding, alone. He watched like a handsome instructor proud of his pupil.
“It’s okay — keep going,” he encouraged.
I soaked up the crisp air. It felt good to be so free — of books, of cramped buses and crowded hallways, free from worrying about what my friends or Nash thought. The snow-covered trees were majestic. The birds flying in the overcast sky and the smell of smoke from the neighbors’ fireplaces were invigorating.
It might have been just minutes of gliding, but to me it felt like hours. It was exhilarating to be skating solo and having Brandon watching me. I skated circles around the pond until I grew fatigued. Then I headed straight for him.
I used to know how to stop by spinning around. I decided to attempt it, but when I placed my blades at right angles, I spun off balance. I began to tumble and he caught me in his arms.
We laughed a deep laugh, so hard my stomach hurt. Brandon was so magnetic. I wasn’t sure if he was going to kiss me, but I knew I wanted him to.
We locked eyes. He softly touched my frozen and flushed cheek. His hands were like a fiery stove, heating up my skin. He leaned into me and then my cell phone beeped with a text message.
“You are popular,” he said, pulling away.
The mood was broken. I knew it would take courage for Brandon to kiss me. He saw me every day with the star of the football and basketball teams. He was new to school and already ostracized. The romantic moment was ruined.
I looked at the text message. “It’s Ivy. She’s almost at my house.”
Reluctantly, we headed to the picnic tables and replaced our skates with our shoes.
“Hey, thanks for the brownies,” he said, walking me to my car.
“Thanks for the skate.” This was a moment w
hen Brandon could kiss me. But his dog was barking, we were in plain view of his house, and I noticed a woman with brown hair peeking out from the front curtain. Then my cell phone rang again. I silenced it.
He opened the door for me. “Thanks for coming out to the sticks,” he teased.
“This place is great,” I assured him. “You have your own ice-skating rink. No one I know can say that.”
As I drove off, Brandon stood by the driveway with two pairs of skates in his hand. I watched him, reflected in my rearview mirror, until I turned the corner away from his house and he was out of view.
Chapter Thirteen
Full Moon Kiss
Brandon and I stole a few passing glances the next day at school but nothing more than that. I was dying to grab his hand when I saw him by his locker, like I had when we were skating, but I didn’t possess the courage. Instead, I just daydreamed about him throughout each class and wrote his name in every one of my notebooks — in an out-of-the-way spot so my friends couldn’t see. After school I was at Ivy’s, working on our English essays, when my cell phone rang. It wasn’t a ring tone I was familiar with — not Abby’s, Nash’s, or my parents’.
It was Frank Sinatra’s voice singing “Fly Me to the Moon.”
“Who is that?” Ivy asked.
Brandon’s name appeared. How could that be? Then it hit me; he must have added his name to my contact list when he found my phone in the woods.
I swept up the phone and covered it with my sleeve before Ivy had a chance to see it.
Frank kept singing.
“You better answer it and tell them they have the wrong number. Otherwise, they’ll keep calling.” My phone number was one digit off from a local radio station’s. I’d been receiving calls from listeners requesting songs or dialing in for a contest, but I’d been too lazy to change my number.
I wanted to talk to Brandon so badly. I was dancing on the inside. I quickly answered before he hung up. “Hello?” I said.
“They’re all gone,” he said in a deep voice.
“What?” I asked.
“The brownies? They’re all gone. Even the crumbs.”
“Who is it?” Ivy asked.
“I think it’s a wrong number,” I whispered. The lie jumped out of my mouth before I had the chance to stop it.
“Only you’d answer them!” Ivy shouted. “Tell them they might have won if they dialed the right number for a change!”
“I’d like to give you back the pan. And your scarf,” Brandon said.
I paused. What did that mean? A date?
“What are they asking?” Ivy asked.
“Or… I can sell them on eBay,” he teased. “I’m sure they would get a lot since they belong to you.”
I laughed.
“Why are you laughing at them? Are they requesting a song?” Ivy asked.
“Are you going to the game tonight?” Brandon asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Are you?”
“Why are you asking them questions?” Ivy asked.
I imagined Brandon approaching me at the game with my mom’s brownie pan and my scarf. The ref would whistle and the game would stop. The players and fans would leer in horror. Ivy and Abby would fold their arms in disgust.
“No, I have work to do,” he finally said.
“You work?”
“Tell them to get back to their job before their boss notices they’re listening to the radio instead of working,” Ivy said. “You don’t have to be so polite.”
“There’s a lot of upkeep around here and I help out my grandparents,” he said.
Wow, I thought. That was kind of like when I volunteered at the nursing home. Brandon was putting his grandparents’ needs in front of his own.
“But feel free to swing by here if you get a chance,” he continued. “I’ll be here.”
I didn’t say anything.
“If not, I’ll get them to you later.”
I didn’t want to hang up. I wanted to talk to him forever. Even with Ivy in the room and my juggling antics, I was so happy to have Brandon on the phone. There was so much I wanted to know about him — so many things I couldn’t ask now. And the one question that burned inside of me — what was it like to be kissed by him?
“I appreciate you calling,” I finally said.
“Enough is enough.” She grabbed the phone. “Would you like me to call your cell phone and request a song? Never call this number again.”
She hung up the phone.
I was in shock.
“That’s what you should have said from the beginning.”
For the next few hours, I tried my best to focus on my essay about werewolves. But I couldn’t help but let my thoughts wander to the wolves I’d met a few days ago, and how I was lucky even to be able to finish a complete sentence, all because of Brandon’s heroic nature.
Since the Heidi Rosen fiasco at Nash’s party, he and I were “off.” However, that didn’t keep my friends from dragging me to the basketball game and expecting reconciliation.
There were a lot of reasons to like Nash. He was handsome, athletic, and popular. He had enough money to do whatever a girl dreamed of — except he’d only do it if it was his dream, too. But instead of planning a possible reunion, my mind was focused on Brandon working at his house while all of us cheered for the Wolverines. I was so drawn to Brandon, I could think of nothing else.
“Maybe we should have a hockey team,” I said to Ivy.
“We have enough problems raising funds to maintain football and basketball,” she replied. “Now you want to build a hockey rink?”
“Not everyone likes those sports,” I defended.
“Are you serious?” Ivy asked. “Who do you know in this town that doesn’t?”
“Where did you get that idea?” Abby asked. “I’d like to play hockey. Only I’d want a pink uniform.”
A few minutes later, Nash made a great three-point shot. The crowd rose to their feet and cheered, but I didn’t budge.
“What’s wrong with you tonight?” Abby said. “It’s like you’re not really here.”
In fact, I was thinking about being somewhere else — somewhere that didn’t have cheerleaders and screaming fans. Brandon’s house wasn’t too far away from school, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt anyone if I just popped over and retrieved my things. I’d be back before the game was even over. My friends wouldn’t miss me. The game was so riveting to them, it didn’t matter who was sitting by them. Additionally, Brandon had wanted to return my items to me tonight, and if I hadn’t already had plans, I might be there helping him out. Since Ivy hung up on Brandon, I was convinced he’d never call again. If I missed this chance, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get another.
“I have to go,” I said to Ivy.
“What do you mean? Nash is tearing up the court. You can’t miss it!”
“I have to be somewhere.”
“Where else could you be?”
“I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
Before she could say another word, I was gone.
I drove to Riverside. Normally, I was a pragmatic and practical person. Now I had to follow my heart. All I knew was that I needed to see Brandon and I couldn’t fight it any longer.
This time I didn’t need directions to Brandon’s house. The first time I drove there, it was daylight. With a cloudy night and freezing temperatures, the full moon only shone every now and then. In Riverside there weren’t streetlights illuminating the way, only white or yellow lines and reflective tape against the guardrails. I wasn’t really used to these more rural roads, especially at night, and the trees were spooky when the headlights hit them. My heart began to race. What if I got a flat tire? How would I explain my location to my parents? And on this lonely road, would my family find me before a wayward stranger did?
As I pulled into the private drive, I got cold feet — what was I doing here to begin with? I shouldn’t have left the comfort of my friends on the right side of town for the unknown adventures
on the wrong one. At this moment, there was nothing to keep me at the gymnasium. Instead I was drawn toward Brandon.
My headlights shone on Brandon’s Jeep.
Breathless, I knocked on the front door. The dog barked, but no one answered.
I ran to the back of the house. There was a small outbuilding the size of a two-car garage with a light shining from the window. I peered in, expecting it to be filled with tools, an old car, and a riding lawn mower. Instead there was a single bed, dresser, and TV. In the corner were a hockey stick and helmet and the pair of skates Brandon used yesterday. My scarf, pan, and card were sitting on the dresser. I felt warmth spread through me, knowing my things meant enough to him to have them displayed. I noticed some other things: a small wooden desk with a lit lamp and a laptop, a few bottles of medicine and bandages for his hand, stacks of books on wolves, deer, and other wild animals.
From the hilltop I could hear the faint sound of chopping. I followed the noise.
“Brandon?” I called.
I scaled the hill and was almost out of breath when I reached the top.
Brandon, in his brown leather jacket, was doing his best to chop wood. He struggled because of his wounded hand. He swore under his breath and shook out his hand in pain.
Then he caught sight of me. Startled, he jumped. “I didn’t see you there,” he said.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No — I’m glad you came.”
“You hurt your hand again—”
“Oh — it’s nothing. I’m really surprised to see you,” he said. “I guess that scarf is really important to you. To leave the game…”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “The scarf.”
“But you’re wearing another one,” he said, pointing to my green-and-white-striped one. “How many do you have?”
I didn’t answer, I just stood nervously.
“I’ll get your things for you. I just have to adjust this.”
He stacked the broken pieces of wood with his good hand.
I didn’t care about the scarf. I only cared about him. I wanted Brandon to touch me so badly and I wanted to touch him, too — to feel his embrace and lips against mine. I wasn’t about to make the first move, and neither was he apparently. It wasn’t my personality to be so romantically forward.
Once in a Full Moon Page 9
