Life in the No-Dating Zone

by Patricia B Tighe

  Claire headed up the street and I followed. She walked until she was in line with the left corner of the house, then made a right-angle turn onto the lawn. I shook my head. Always so precise. But it gave me something to tease her about. “Hey, are you in band?” I whispered.

  She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “No,” she whispered back. “Why?”

  “Because you march in such perfect lines.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me.

  I moved up beside her. “I mean, really. Why didn’t we just cut across the yard?”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

  “No, never.”

  “Well, you do.”

  “Only when it’s necessary.”

  She eyed me. “Would you be quiet? We’re almost there.”

  “Aye, aye.”

  She didn’t respond, just tiptoed through the grass as if it would mask our already quiet footsteps. Guess I’d have to work harder at making her laugh.

  We reached the side of the house without anyone calling in the National Guard. The bass from some country song reverberated from Lindsey’s room. A rectangle of pale light from her window rested like a spotlight on the lawn. Claire pointed at it. “You can talk from here,” she whispered.

  “Okay.”

  Claire stood in the shadows, pulling at the top of the bag of peas. A frown splayed across her face as she struggled, and more than anything I wanted to tackle her to the grass and kiss her senseless. Keep it together. You’re almost there. “Need help?”

  “No, I—” The bag gave way in an explosion of peas that shot straight up into her face. “Dang it!”

  I clenched my jaw to keep from laughing as Claire wiped at her hair and face. “Are there any left?” I asked.

  She searched the grass at her feet, then finally shook the bag. “Enough.” She handed it to me.

  “Go hide.”

  Claire darted over to the flowery bushes growing near the side of the house, right under Lindsey’s window. I pulled out a small handful of peas and threw them. They hit the glass with a scattershot plinking sound, which didn’t seem loud enough to be heard over the music. But I’d just grabbed another handful when the music cut off.

  My pulse thumped in my throat because I mean, c’mon, this was Lindsey Taylor’s window and I was about to do something really stupid. And if not stupid, then seriously humiliating.

  The curtains opened, increasing the brightness of my rectangle spotlight, then the window. Lindsey knelt and spoke through the screen. “Who is th—? Oh, Gray.” She sounded flat. Not too enthusiastic, huh? Neither was I. “What’re you doing here?”

  For half a second, the answer was I have no idea. I gaped at her. I knew I did. It looked like she was wearing a really thin tank top, but I couldn’t be sure because she was mostly in silhouette. “I, uh—”

  In the lightest whisper I’d ever heard, Claire’s voice came from the shadows. “Had to see you.”

  “I had to—” Wait. That’s not what I wanted to say.

  “What?” Lindsey asked, as if I’d mumbled something.

  Right. Just get it over with. “I wanted to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  I needed to dislodge the feel of my blood pumping through my throat, so I cleared it. Which did nothing, of course. “I’ve really liked spending time with you and your friends recently.”

  “That’s what you came to tell me. Outside my window? At night?”

  “Think you’re really beautiful,” Claire whispered.

  No way was I saying that. I bit down on my cheek. If I hadn’t, I would’ve been laughing like a crazed maniac. “So, yeah, because of spending time with you, I’ve been able to get to know a girl who’s funny, and smart—”

  “Look, Gray,” Lindsey said, “you’re really sweet and everything, but I just—”

  “And bossy … ”

  “Bossy?” Lindsey’s voice rose to a squeak.

  I went to where Claire stood pressed up against the wall of the house behind bushes that came up to her neck. I pulled her gently out.

  “What’re you doing?” she asked in a harsh whisper.

  “And adorable,” I whispered back.

  “What … Gray?”

  I couldn’t see her face very well, but the hopeful tone in her voice made me want to tug her against me and hold on. But I had to take this one step at a time, so I cupped her cheek in my hand. “You are so amazing. I’ve been trying to tell—”

  The thump of a car door cut into my thoughts. I stepped back, leaving Claire in the shadows. Someone was coming.

  “Gray!” Lindsey’s voice came from overhead. “Where are you? What’s going on?”

  The figure strode toward the front door, but at the sound of Lindsey’s voice, changed direction. “Yo. Is someone there?”

  A deep voice. Adam Castro. Not a voice I wanted to hear.

  But apparently Lindsey did. “Eeeep!” she said, then slammed the window.

  Castro continued his way toward us but stopped suddenly. “You,” he said as though I’d caused every plague known to man. He launched into a run, crossing the last thirty feet in seconds.

  “Wait—”

  In a whoosh of movement, his fist connected with my cheekbone, knocking me to the ground.

  Forty

  Claire

  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing—Gray splayed out on the grass looking stunned. All my irritation and dislike for Adam burned like needles in my skin. I stormed over to him.

  Hands still fisted, Adam was bending over Gray. “Stay away from Lindsey!”

  I slammed into his shoulder with both hands, my momentum knocking him sideways. Let’s hear it for short girls! “You stay away!”

  “What the—” Adam regained his footing, then let out a mocking laugh. “Sorry, Wonder Woman. Did I hurt your baby?”

  A heavy thud sounded from the front of the house. I couldn’t think straight. I absolutely could not. All I knew was I had to slap his grinning face. I launched myself at him, a weird, low growl coming from my throat. Or rather, I tried to launch myself at him, but strong arms grabbed me from behind and lifted me off my feet.

  Adam muttered something that sounded like, “Chica loca,” but a high-pitched ringing in my ears distorted all sound so I wasn’t sure. Lindsey appeared, throwing herself into Adam’s arms. She kissed him. Well, they kissed each other. Yuck.

  I wriggled, trying to get free, but Gray’s voice came hot against my ear, breaking through the ringing. “Claire, don’t. It’s okay. Really, it’s okay.”

  The fight left my body like water going down the drain, leaving me shaking. In its place came a cold, sick feeling. Oh, no. What had I just done?

  Gray carried me ten feet away and set me down. I didn’t want to face him. I couldn’t. I’d been growling! And he’d just told me he thought I was amazing. Did he still mean it? Or had my freak-out brought second thoughts?

  He turned me around. “Hey,” he whispered. “You okay?”

  I shrugged, not able to meet his eyes. Which I couldn’t see very well in the dark anyway. Probably better. I couldn’t handle trying to guess what he was thinking.

  Gray straightened my glasses, which had been hanging crookedly across my nose. “You’re my hero,” he said. “You know that, right?”

  His words surprised a huff out of me. “I’m an idiot.”

  With a light touch, he lifted my chin. “My favorite kind of hero.” He smiled, then winced. Way to go, Claire. He was hurt and I was standing around feeling sorry for myself.

  “How’s your eye?” I whispered.

  “Not too bad.” He ran his fingertips across his cheek. “Guess it’s an injury-prone sort of day. First my ankle, now this.”

  “Ha.” I gestured toward his eye. “We should probably get some ice on that.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey, bro,” Adam said, coming toward us with Lindsey hanging on him. “Sorry about everything. I got it wrong. Amy said s
omething about you and Lindsey. I didn’t know you were into Claire.”

  Before Gray could say anything, Lindsey jumped in. “See, I told you not to listen to Amy. And I was right, wasn’t I?” She stared at Gray like they were sharing a secret. “Gray’s been into Claire for a long time.”

  He what? Was that true? My stomach dropped to my feet. If so, it could only mean one thing—he’d been lying to me. About everything. The whole time I thought I was helping him with Lindsey he’d really been interested in me? A cold burning in my chest beat out knowing he liked me. I hadn’t known. Hadn’t detected even the slightest hint he wasn’t being honest. And what did that say about my ability to read people? Or his ability to be honest?

  Gray stepped near and I backed away, clutching my middle. “Is that true? You lied to me?” I hated how weak my voice sounded, but I kept going. “I trusted you.”

  Gray frowned. “No. Wait.”

  But Lindsey laughed, oblivious to the tension running between us. “Don’t be so dramatic, Claire. You don’t have a lot of room to be offended. You just played a massive trick on me. Why’d you do it, anyway?”

  Oh, no. I had to change the subject. No, I had to leave. Get out of this situation before I freaked. Gray squinted at Lindsey as though he had a headache. Maybe having his face knocked in was affecting his mind. We spoke at the same time. “It was just a prank,” I said.

  “Claire wanted to—” Gray said, looking like he wished he could take those words and shove them back in his mouth.

  My fingers curled into my hands. He really wouldn’t blurt out the whole story, would he? Because Lindsey would kill me. That was a given. But I had no idea what Gray would say. I was clearly a lame predictor of what he might or might not do. I needed to leave. Now. I rubbed my palms against the side of my shorts, then backed up two more steps. “Let’s talk about this later. I need to get home.”

  “Wait just a second,” Lindsey said. “Why exactly did you put on this show?”

  I walked slowly backward. “We’ll talk later.” I tried to communicate with her silently—to let her know I’d explain everything—like we used to do really well. Before boys got in the way.

  Gray started to follow, but Lindsey grabbed his forearm. “Hang on. Someone needs to tell me what’s going on.”

  “Lindsey!” her mother yelled from the front of the house. “Are you out here?”

  Perfect time to escape. I twisted around and headed for my car.

  “Claire, wait,” Gray called.

  My heart lurched. But I couldn’t stop. I waved, then broke into a jog. I had to get to the car before Gray could stop me.

  Forty-One

  Gray

  Claire jogged across the lawn away from us. No perfect right angles this time. Guess that’s what you do when you want to run away.

  I glanced down at Lindsey’s hand on my arm, then up to her face. “Look, sorry. Can I get back to you? I really need to talk to Claire.”

  She tightened her grip. “You might as well tell me. I’ll find out anyway.”

  “Lindsey Elizabeth!” her mother called out again. “Answer me.”

  “Just a sec, Mom!”

  Claire was almost at her car. I had to talk to her. “Really it’s no big deal. It’s like Claire said—just a prank.”

  Adam draped his arm over Lindsey’s shoulder. “Never mind, Linds, let him go. I haven’t seen you in almost a week.”

  She smiled up at him. “Oh, all right.”

  “See ya.” I took off. In the street, Claire was opening her car door.

  She lifted a hand in an almost-wave and slipped into the car, shutting the door behind her. Crap. I poured on the speed, the pounding of my feet fueling the pain around my eye. I stretched out, almost had a hand on the door handle, when she drove off.

  Dammit, Claire. Why do you have to be so stubborn? Rounding my car, I yanked my phone out of my pocket. A little too fast. It flew out of my hand and skittered across the asphalt before coming to a stop in the middle of the street. I swore and scooped it up. The screen had cracked in a jagged upside-down V. Perfect. Dad was going to love that.

  But I didn’t care. All that mattered now was whether it worked. I pressed the “on” button, but the screen stayed dark. No, no, no. This could not be happening. I jabbed the button harder and it flashed to life. Finally. I tapped and scrolled, trying to bring up Claire’s number, but it felt like everything was happening in slow motion. She was getting away and I was standing there playing with my phone. Imbecile.

  I jumped into my car, set the phone to speaker while it rang Claire, and pulled out.

  She picked up after the second ring. “Yeah?”

  “Why’d you run off? We need to talk.”

  “I know we do. I just can’t do this right now.”

  “C’mon, Claire, you—”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t hang up. I didn’t lie—”

  The phone beeped twice saying the call had ended. She was crazy if she thought I’d give up that easily. I pressed her number again. Half a ring and it went straight to voicemail. Okay, Claire. If that’s the way you want to play it … I’m going to your house and I’m going to embarrass you in front of your parents. I didn’t even know if she’d be there or was going somewhere else to hide, but it didn’t matter. If she wasn’t there, I’d wait. I’d wait as long as it took. Because she was talking to me tonight.

  Twenty minutes later I paced on Claire’s front porch waiting for someone to answer the door. Surely they wouldn’t just ignore me. I stopped. Would they? No. The Gardners were too polite. But I couldn’t hear any footsteps. I checked my phone. Not even a minute had passed. I was going nuts with all the energy thrumming through me. I sank into a deep knee bend, came up, then did two more before I heard the deadbolt slide back.

  Mr. Gardner opened the door halfway, his mouth a tight line. “It’s a little late, Gray.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Gardner. Is Claire around?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think she wants to talk to you right now.”

  “I know, I know. I just need a few minutes. She thinks I lied to her and I have to clear—”

  He stepped closer to me and for a second I thought he meant to shove me off the porch. “What happened to your eye, son?” he asked, his eyebrows pinching together.

  I fingered my puffy cheekbone. “Long story. Could I please have a few minutes? That’s all, I promise.”

  Claire’s mom appeared next to her husband as though she’d been hiding behind the door. “He’s hurt?” She narrowed her eyes at me, then pulled me into the house. “Come into the kitchen. I want to look at that.”

  “Liz,” Mr. Gardner said in a warning tone.

  She ignored him, tugging me along the hall and into the kitchen. Hey, whatever got me closer to Claire was cool with me.

  “Have a seat,” she said in the most commanding voice I’d ever heard her use.

  “Yes, ma’am,” came out of me automatically. I dropped onto a sturdy wooden chair at the table.

  She took one of those pre-made ice packs from the freezer, squeezed it, then set it on the table. How long was this going to take? From the determined set to her features, I was in for the full treatment. Mr. Gardner came in and picked up a mug from the countertop.

  Claire’s mom loomed over me, tilting my head back, her fingers gently probing my cheekbone. I got a whiff of a flowery scent. I didn’t know where to look. At her face? At the ceiling? This was seriously awkward. She poked near the corner of my eye and I winced.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. “This is going to be a beaut.” She backed off, wrapped the ice pack in a towel, then set it against my eye. “Hold that.”

  I obeyed, relaxing a little as the cold prickled into my skin. How could I get out of this? And where was Claire? Up in her room? I couldn’t exactly race up the stairs. Not if I wanted to stay on her parents’ good side.

  Mrs. Gardner leaned back against the kitchen counter and folded her arms. “Okay, what hap
pened?”

  Did I really have to do this? Simple. I’d keep it simple. “Uh, I got hit.”

  Claire’s parents stared at me like they didn’t appreciate my simplicity.

  Um, right. A little more detail. “Lindsey’s boyfriend hit me.”

  “Why?” Mrs. Gardner asked.

  “He thought I was moving in on Lindsey.”

  “Were you?” she asked.

  “Liz,” Mr. Gardner said.

  She frowned at her husband. “I want to know.”

  “It’s not our business.”

  They held each other’s gazes for so long I figured I might be able to escape. “Could I talk to Claire now?”

  Mrs. Gardner shoved a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure I want to let you do that.”

  Crap. “I wasn’t making a move on Lindsey. Really. I swear.” I rested my elbows on the table and looked straight at Mr. Gardner. “Five minutes. Please. That’s all I need.”

  He considered me for three long seconds. “Okay, five minutes.”

  I set the ice pack on the table and jumped to my feet. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

  “Ben, I haven’t agreed to this,” Claire’s mom said.

  “I’ll time them,” he said, then pointed in the direction of the sunroom. “Backyard.”

  “Thanks.” I practically knocked the chair over in my hurry to get outside. I raced down the hall and skidded to a stop before the back door. The patio lights weren’t on. I stepped out blind. “Claire? You out here?”

  A muffled gasp came from the far end of the yard. I strode toward the sound, tripped on a toddler toy, and landed on my knees next to Baby Jack’s soccer ball. “Umph.” This was definitely not my day. I climbed to my feet. “Claire, please tell me where you are so I don’t kill myself trying to get there.”