Kendal figured that Kyan would be in his room sweating with anticipation. She reached the stairs and took a deep breath. Christine owes me big time, she thought.
Once she reached the third floor, she entered the hallway and saw empty pizza boxes and garbage bags everywhere. Music boomed from an open door, even though no one was in the room. She peeked into the room and saw dark stains of God-knows-what scattered all over the carpet. Something that smelled of pepperoni and cheap cologne hung in the air. Kendal made a face, rounded the first corner, reminding herself not to touch anything accidentally. She continued to walk to the end of the hallway, holding her breath when she saw that the door to Room 41 was open just a crack. She knocked slightly, and then pushed it open.
Jason was sitting on a couch watching football, and Kyan was laying face down on his bed, reading what looked like a textbook.
“Busy?” Kendal asked when he looked up.
“Studying,” Kyan said, motioning to the book.
Kendal got the feeling that he was trying to make a good impression on her. “I’ll be quick,” she said.
“It’s okay.” Kyan hopped off the bed and threw the book aside. “I was ready for a break anyway.”
He looked over at Jason who appeared to be engrossed in the football game. It took him a minute before he looked up, and realized that Kyan was staring at him.
“Oh, my bad,” Jason said. “I’ll leave you two alone.” He stood up and gave Kyan a slight punch in the arm as if to say, “Go get ‘em.”
“You don’t have to leave,” Kendal said hurriedly. “I’m just going to be a minute.”
“No, it’s okay,” Jason replied, already halfway out the door. “I’ll watch the game in Kyle’s room.” He nodded at them and closed the door behind him.
Kendal held her arms close to her sides, not sure what to do with them. This was more uncomfortable than she’d imagined it would be.
“Have a seat,” Kyan said. He plopped down on the couch and turned off the television.
Kendal remained standing. “So, you know that invite party you were talking about the other night?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, I was thinking about it, and if you still haven’t asked anyone, then I’d like to go.” She was secretly hoping that he’d already asked someone else. “Just as a friend, of course.”
“As a friend,” Kyan repeated. He tapped his hand on his knee as if he were mulling it over. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Well, yeah. I haven’t asked anyone else yet, and I wanted you to be my invite, so it’s all good.”
Kendal decided to point out the stipulations because there was still a hope that he might change his mind afterwards. “Of course, by friends I mean that you shouldn’t plan on making a pass at me in any way, shape or form. Sure, we can hang out and talk, but that’s basically it. If your hands start drifting anywhere I view as off limits, I’m out of there.”
Kyan opened his mouth to respond, and then thought better of it. “You must think I’m a slime ball,” he finally said.
“I’m sorry?” Kendal asked. That was the last thing she’d expected him to say.
“To say something like that, you must think I’m a complete jerk.”
“Well, you do have quite the reputation.”
“I know,” Kyan said, regretfully. “I’m not proud of it. So, if the only way you’ll feel comfortable around me is by telling me that you just want to go as friends, then I understand. I guess I’ll just have to prove to you that I’m genuinely interested in you.”
Kendal couldn’t believe it. Either he was an extremely good actor or he was actually earnest, and she’d severely misjudged him.
“I appreciate that,” she said. She took a big breath, feeling slightly better about the whole situation. “I’ll see you Friday night then.”
“Sounds good,” Kyan said. He rose to his feet and opened the door for her. “Wait. I thought you had that poetry thing or something on Friday?”
“I do,” Kendal said. “I’m going to that first and then I’m coming here. So, I’ll probably be a little late.”
“I didn’t know you were good friends with that girl from the basketball team.”
“JJ?”
“Yea, the one you were at the library with. I’ve seen her play a couple of games. She’s pretty good.”
“She’s my Women’s Literature tutor,” Kendal said. “We’re just getting to know each other.” She tried, but she couldn’t help but smile. “She’s so smart. I mean really smart, not just about school stuff. I’ve never met anyone like her before. She’s so sweet and—”
Kyan was staring at her awkwardly.
“Um, she’s cool, you know?”
“Right. So I guess I’ll see you Friday then,” he said.
“Yeah, Friday,” Kendal confirmed. She left the dorm feeling like a fool. If she’d planned on hiding her growing feelings for JJ, she was going to have to do a far better job. What if anyone found out? What in the world would she do then?
CHAPTER 16
Kendal sat staring at her mashed potatoes in the dining hall on Thursday night, thinking about how closely one lump resembled Justin Bieber.
“What’s eating you?” Christine asked. She was sitting directly across from Kendal, enjoying a small side salad.
Kendal looked up. Her eyes were hollow, and she was sure the dark circles beneath them made her look like a football player on a bright, sunny day. She hadn’t slept at all last night because she’d had a frightening nightmare about her Women’s Literature class.
“You look horrible,” Christine added.
“Gee, thanks.”
“I’m just speaking the truth.”
“Well, don’t.”
“Problem?”
“I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“I know. You were tossing all around and kept mumbling something about Emily Dickinson.”
Kendal yawned. How could a single subject torment her so much? She wondered. She picked at the food on her plate and shoved a piece of roast turkey into her mouth. It tasted like rubber. “I have a pop quiz in my Women’s Literature class tomorrow,” she said after spitting the meat out into a napkin.
“Well, at least your teacher informed you of the pop quiz. Mr. Marks just whips out a quiz as soon as we walk through the door. And of course he chooses the most complicated math problems, ever.”
“I think I’d have a heart attack if Ms. Chin ever did that. But thankfully she told us there was going to be a quiz. She even told us which author. The only problem is that she didn’t tell us what poem it was going to be on. That’s what I’m nervous about.”
“So study,” Christine said.
“I’m going to,” Kendal told her. “But I think I need some extra help.”
She was eager to get in touch with JJ for an emergency tutoring session because this quiz was a big deal. She needed a good grade to help boost her average for the semester. And she’d been making some major progress that she didn’t want to mess up.
In some ways, she was afraid to try to study by herself. But the truth was she wanted an excuse to see JJ again before Friday.
“Last minute tutoring session?” Christine inquired.
“Yes. It’s a must.”
“Why can’t I just help you?”
Kendal laughed emphatically. Her stomach seemed to settle for a moment, so she seized the opportunity to shove a big spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth and swallow it down before her stomach changed its mind.
“What’s so funny?” Christine asked, obviously offended.
“The idea of you tutoring me on an English class.”
“What’s the big deal?”
“Christine,” Kendal said firmly. “You are a math guru. What do you know about women’s poetry and literature?”
“I happen to be one—a woman that is. That’s all the knowledge I need.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes.” C
hristine tossed her hair back and tied it into a ponytail to show that she was ready to get down to business. “Let me see what you are studying right now.”
Kendal looked her up and down. “You’re serious?”
“Kendal, I had to take my fair share of English class requirements, too.”
Kendal held back her tongue. She knew Christine was extremely smart when it came to solving quadratic equations, but as far as literature was concerned, her idea of a classic novel was Twilight.
“Come on. Out with it,” Christine demanded.
Kendal slid her tray aside and rested her backpack on the table. She shuffled through it for her notebook as she watched the rest of the girls at the table start to pack up their things and head back to the dorm. In a matter of minutes, she and Christine were the only people left at the cheerleaders’ table.
Kendal looked around the dining hall as she shoved her notebook over to Christine. The soccer team was just coming in for dinner, but the rest of the dining hall was empty, except for a speckling of students who had decided to grab a late dinner.
She looked hopefully over at the basketball table. Unfortunately, it was empty.
Christine inspected the notebook in front of her. “Who in the world is Anne Killigrew?”
“Give me that,” Kendal said and snatched the folder back.
“What? I just asked a simple question.”
“How can you help me understand her poetry when you have no idea who she is?”
Christine slouched in her chair, yawned, and picked up her iPhone as if she’d suddenly grown bored with the idea of helping Kendal study. “Come on, let’s get out of here. My behind is sore from sitting.”
Kendal pretended to be engrossed in the pages of notes in front of her.
“Earth to Kendal?”
“What?”
“I said ‘let’s go.’ I’m starting to smell like dining hall food.”
Kendal planted her eyes at her notes instead. “I think I’m going to stay here just a little bit longer,” she said.
“Are you serious? For what? You can study at the dorm.”
“I know, but it’s quiet here now and—“
“And you want to wait and see if your girlfriend shows up?”
“Cute, very cute.”
Christine whistled loudly and said, “Caution. You are now walking a fine line between heterosexuality and homosexuality.”
“Will you knock it off already!” Kendal shouted. A couple of other dining hall stragglers at a nearby table turned their heads. Kendal retuned her voice to its normal pitch. “I’m just going to look this over for a few minutes and then I’ll head back to the dorm.”
“Fine,” Christine said. “Whatever. Just remember you have to be back by nine. We’ve got curfew tonight.”
“Ugh. I forgot. Okay—I’ll be back in time.”
“Good. The last thing I’d want is for you to not to be able to cheer on Saturday. You know how Mya can get.”
“Yes, I know how Mya can get.” Kendal exhaled loudly. “Can I have some peace and quiet now?”
CHAPTER 17
JJ sucked in as much air as she could before she sprinted from one end of the gymnasium to the other.
“Come on, JJ,” Coach Cook hollered. “Point guards lead from the front, not from the back.”
JJ grimaced as she bent down to swipe the painted black line that gleamed at the baseline of the basketball court. She looked over at Queenie who was mouthing what Coach had just said, and snorting.
“We’re sprinting, not goofing off, McBride,” Coach Cook bellowed. “Thanks to you, the whole team has to give me ten more.”
JJ gave Queenie her best “nice going” eyes, but Queenie just stuck out her tongue and took off running. She usually led the pack because of her lengthy stride, and could quite possibly give a gazelle a run for its money in an open field. It also helped that she’d been a top performer in cross country for three years in a row, winning numerous accolades and praises from area sportswriters who predicted she would go on to compete at the Division I level.
They had been wrong, of course, as Queenie had chosen to play basketball during her senior year at Sampson instead of running cross-country, much to the chagrin of her parental units. Whether Queenie missed running competitively or not, JJ didn’t know. But she figured that Queenie cared more about infuriating her parents than she did about her athletic prowess. And that was all the reward she needed.
JJ, on the other hand, despised running, in any way, shape or form. Running just to run was pointless to her. There needed to be some sort of object involved, like a basketball for instance. She needed something to give her a reason to run. She was always amazed at how Queenie could just go for a run around campus, and chalk up about five miles as if it were nothing.
The team finished the sprints, and at the end JJ somehow managed to unearth a second wind and dashed as fast as she could from one end of the gym to the other.
“Good finish, Jenkins,” Coach Cook noted.
JJ bent over and clung to her knees, sucking in every breath. As much as she hated running, Coach Cook believed it was the best way to get into top condition. She ran them into the ground from late September to the middle of March, or whenever the basketball season was over. It didn’t matter how worn out the team was, they always started with sprints and ended with sprints. Whenever they lost a game, they would spend the next practice running from one end of the court to the other until they dropped to the floor in exhaustion.
“Conditioning, ladies,” Coach Cook stressed. “It’s all about conditioning. It’s always the team that’s in better shape that wins the game. That’s what matters in those last five minutes, that’s what allows you to play your heart out, and leave it all on the floor.” She believed that all games were decided within the last five minutes of play, regardless of the score.
JJ stood up and held her hands behind her head to clear her lungs. She watched Coach Cook pace two steps to the left and two steps to the right in her electric-green warm-up suit. She suddenly wondered how many warm-up suits Coach Cook had in her closet at home. It seemed as if it was all she ever wore.
Connie Cook was a fascinating woman. Her salt and pepper hair was just a snip away from being classified as a mullet. Rather thin but muscular, on the weekends she often could be spotted striding along the country roads of Ashland that stretched for miles through endless acres of farmland.
It was also rumored that Coach Cook was part of the team, the lesbian team, that is. Queenie said it was just a matter of time before Coach Cook admitted to belonging on the “dark side.” But JJ wasn’t so sure. She knew that Coach Cook lived with the Dean of Students, who also was rumored to be a lesbian. But Coach Cook never talked about it, so if the two of them were, in fact, a couple, it was definitely top secret.
Queenie, though, never missed an opportunity to tease Coach Cook about her sexual ambiguity.
“That’s why you’ve been running so much these past few weeks,” Coach continued. “And why you will continue to run hard for the rest of the season. You freshmen have to get into shape, and you upper classmen should be taking these fresh fish under your wings and training them outside of practice.”
It was the same little talk she always gave at the end of practices during the season. After three years, JJ was sure that she could recite word for word at least ten of those so-called pep talks.
“Okay,” Coach Cook barked, then clasped her hands together and stole a quick glance at her watch. “Looks like you’ll still make it to the dining hall if you hurry it up.”
“What are your plans for dinner, Coach?” Queenie asked. “Is the missus waiting for you at home, having prepared a nice candlelight dinner?”
Coach Cook drew in a patient breath. “As a matter of fact, I am the one who is cooking tonight. I have to get home and start on some grilled chicken. The candlelight is optional.”
“How sweet,” Queenie added.
Coach Cook ignored
her. She was so above Queenie’s remarks that she merely brushed them off her shoulders. The rest of the team huddled together and put their hands into the middle of the circle. “Team!”
“See you tomorrow, ladies,” Coach Cook said. “Enjoy the delicacies of the dining hall.” With that she winked at Queenie.
”Hurry up and change,” Queenie said, as she and JJ dragged their aching bodies back to the locker room. “I’m starving!”
“What was that about?”
“What was what about?”
“The wink. Why did Coach wink at you?”
“I didn’t notice.”
JJ gave Queenie a slight shove, “Yeah, right. Have you two been bonding lately?”
“Can we get to the dining hall before we discuss the intricacies of my newfound relationship with Coach? I need brain fuel. I can’t think straight. In fact, I’m seeing two of you right now.”
“Fine,” said JJ. “But quit being so dramatic, will you?”
“Why? I’m so good at it.”
They rushed to peel the sweaty clothes off of their bodies and toss them into the laundry basket. Then they threw on some warm-up pants and their team sweatshirts before they hightailed it out of the athletic center and over to the dining hall.
They somehow managed to slide through the doors just as the head chef was locking up for the evening.
“That was a close call,” Queenie huffed. She dashed through the food line, tossing everything in sight onto her tray.
JJ opted for tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. As she studied her tray, she suddenly wished she were eating Coach Cook’s grilled chicken instead.
Queenie was quite content with her amply stocked tray, which consisted of a healthy portion of mashed potatoes and turkey slopped with gravy, bread, chocolate pudding, a side salad and a tall glass of milk.
They sat with the other members of the basketball team, who were all busy eating while simultaneously complaining about the excessive amount of sprints Coach Cook had been forcing them to run.
As soon as JJ sat down she glanced at the cheerleading table. Her heart fluttered the second she saw Kendal sitting there. Kendal appeared to be engrossed in the papers in front of her. The rest of her table was empty. In fact, the whole dining hall was practically empty except for a few soccer players lingering by the dessert bar. She forced her attention away from Kendal and back to Queenie.
The Trouble with Emily Dickinson Page 9
