The Webster Grove Series

by Puckett, Tracie

  “I'm serious about your designs. Wouldn't you say that's the best way you express yourself.”

  I shrugged. “I guess-”

  “Well, I hate to leave this bouncy castle of fun,” she said, not trying for a moment to disguise her sarcasm. “But I gotta get home before curfew.”

  Oh, homecoming memories. Nate showed up to the dance with a gorgeous girl on his arm and Bridget's heart broke in two. And like a cool, collected, calm adult, Bridget handled her anger the only way any mature person would.

  She beat the snot out of Rachel Canter.

  Unfortunately, her parents have had her on a very short leash ever since the homecoming bathroom brawl in October. She's only allowed out of the house for non-school related activities once a week, and even on those days she has to be home by 5pm.

  “Later gator,” I said.

  “After while crocodile.”

  Friday December 02

  “Well done, Miss Wright,” Mr. Rivera said as Bridget took a bow for the applauding students.

  “Those are the four nicest words he’s said all week,” Isaac Peyton said behind me.

  Bridget had just finished delivering a monologue from a paranormal one-act she'd written a few weeks ago. A classic Bridget Anne Wright move; not only had she chosen to portray her personality with her acting talents, but her writing skills as well.

  Rachel followed with a graceful ballet act— leotard, tutu, slippers, and all.

  “Nathaniel,” Mr. Rivera called, ten minutes later. “Are you prepared to present today?”

  “Yup,” Nate said, standing from his desk with two large pictures in hand.

  “Whenever you're ready.”

  “Okay, guys,” Nate took in a long, deep breath. “I'm gonna talk to you today about my favorite pastime.”

  I was mostly distracted during Nate's presentation on photography. I found myself thinking about the evening I'd spent with Alexander Rivera two months ago; the night he'd bailed me out of the window in my bedroom and led me down the dark sidewalk to his house. Together, we toilet papered his neighbor's home. Which, yes, while juvenile, turned out to be pretty comical at Nate's expense.

  Someone or something had sucked that fun-loving soul out of Mr. Rivera. Once upon a time, I loved the joyful spark in his eyes, his childish grin, and the way he'd bite his lip when he was nervous. I missed all of things about him that made my toes curl... the things that made him him. This angry, temperamental attitude wasn’t nearly as cute. In fact, it was downright infuriating.

  “Miss Ghijk?” His voice interrupted my daydream.

  Deep breath.

  “Miss Ghijk, let's go.”

  Move your feet. Get up. Come on, you can do this.

  “Steph,” Bridget jabbed me in the back with her bony finger.

  “Huh?”

  “Go.”

  I stood up and moved to the front of the class and gave our handsome teacher an apologetic glance. I turned to face the desks full of students and panic set in. No one knows stage fright better than Abcdef Ghijk.

  “Miss Ghijk,” Mr. Rivera said, obviously annoyed. “You were given enough time to prepare for today's assignment, were you not?”

  I nodded, on the verge of tears.

  “Then?”

  “I can't--”

  “Only you can express yourself, Steph,” Bridget cheered. “Show us whatcha got!”

  The silent encouragement in her eyes gave me the strength I needed to carry through. I pulled a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of my jeans.

  “Okay,” I said, taking in a deep breath. “I know a lot of you were expecting a design presentation today... but... I wrote something... a poem... for... well, okay.”

  I looked once at Mr. Rivera and then faced the class again.

  “A heavy heart can’t bear the weight

  Coincidence or destined fate

  I do not want to hesitate…

  Do you?

  I have a dream to keep you near

  And losing you is all I fear

  So tell me that you will be here...

  Will you?

  A pulse can’t rest when on the rise

  Sparked by the longing in your eyes

  I feel there’s more than is implied…

  Do you?

  If things aren't always as they seem

  And you can dare to dream a dream

  Consider us a future team...

  Will you?

  I know they say that love is blind

  An intervention of divine

  Now I believe the stars aligned…

  Do you?

  Our love would be a surefire crime

  But I will wait the given time

  If you would say that you’d be mine…

  Will you?

  I know I shouldn’t wonder such

  But something tells me in your touch

  You want to make the two an us…

  Do you?

  Committing is a risk to take

  To run would be a huge mistake

  So say that you'll be my keepsake...

  Will you?

  I know for sure that this love

  A love that I'm unworthy of

  But I believe we'll rise above...

  Do you?

  You asked if I believed in fate

  I'm sorry that my answers late

  I never meant to make you wait

  Forgive me?”

  The class broke into a roar of applause as they'd done for the previous presentations.

  Unlike the students before me, I didn't receive a good job or well done. Our teacher sat quietly at his desk, seemingly careless about the words I spoke. Without hesitation, I moved quietly back to the desk and watched as Isaac, the final presenter of the day, made his way to the front of the room.

  Bridget's hand clasped my shoulder as she leaned forward and whispered “I think we need to talk, missy.”

  Isaac faced the class with a large binder in front of him. “I've never had a problem expressing myself,” he started with confidence. “I've been an artist for as long as I can remember and drawing has provided an incredible outlet for expression. Today I brought a portfolio of people, places, and landscapes that I've drawn based on my short experience in Webster Grove.”

  He flipped to the first page, showing a professional-level drawing of his new house. The next was an unfinished sketch of Mr. Rivera looking heated and in a fury. The following piece, for reasons unknown, struck a chord with me. It was a realistic depiction of Nick, Isaac's father, as he carried a large box from a moving truck. And finally, with time dwindling down, Isaac showed the class one last picture; a drawing of Bridget, depicting her exaggerated personality with arms in the air and a smile on her face.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered behind me.

  The bell rang as he wrapped up his presentation. The students rushed out of the classroom after giving him a thumbs up and commenting on his artistic abilities. Bridget walked past him, blushing ear to ear. Nate helped Rachel carry her things out while Isaac moved back to his seat to pick up the rest of his belongings.

  And then there were three; Mr. Rivera, Isaac Peyton, and Abcdef Ghijk. And... was it just me, or was Isaac purposely taking his time so I couldn't catch a moment alone with Alex?

  I meandered as slowly as possible before my purposeless hanging around started to look suspicious. While losing hope that I'd get a chance alone with the man of my dreams, Isaac looked up and shined his dazzling smile.

  “Steph, right?” he asked, throwing the bag strap over his shoulder. I nodded. “From across the street?”

  “Yeah,” I said, noticing Mr. Rivera's eyes watching us as we walked out of the classroom together. “How do
you like Webster Grove so far?”

  “The people are great,” he said, letting a tiny slip of a southern accent seep through as we stopped at his locker. “Was it an easy adjustment when you moved here?”

  “Yeah. Bridget was a lifesaver.” I stopped to meet his gaze. “How did you know I-”

  “Small town.”

  “Right.”

  “Secrets are hard to keep in a town this size, Steph,” he said, lowering his head and staring straight in my eyes. “I have to get to French. See you around.” He shut the locker and walked toward the nearest classroom. “Oh, Steph,” he turned back. “Tomorrow. Breakfast at Johnny's on Main Street?”

  “Um...”

  “8AM,” he said, definitely. “I'll be waiting.”

  Without a chance to respond to his request—or, demand, rather—he popped back into the room and out of sight.

  Crap. . .

  Chapter Four

  Saturday December 03

  I don't know how I kept the secret from Bridget. For twenty-four hours I somehow managed to suppress the fact that her latest crush had asked me to meet him for breakfast. I couldn't help but think about the way she abandoned Nate after he took Rachel to homecoming... how would she feel if she found out her best friend was seemingly trying to steal the latest man of her dreams? She'd kill me...

  Still, I left. I walked down the sidewalk, closer and closer to Johnny's Diner with each step. It's not betrayal when you have zero attraction to the person who asks you out. He's cute, sure, but not my type. Besides, his intentions may be honorable. There's no sense making a mountain out of molehill.

  The walk to Johnny's was less than a mile, but felt longer as I trekked through the pile of snow and ice that had been accumulating for nearly a week. I reached the diner door and let myself in. As promised, Isaac sat waiting in the furthest corner booth, sipping orange juice and reading the newspaper.

  “Hey--”

  “You came,” he said, standing as I took a seat across from him.

  “I wasn't sure I had a choice-”

  “You always have a choice, Steph,” he grinned, retaking his seat. “I ordered you a water for now, I hope that's okay.”

  “Perfect, thanks.”

  “Steph,” he raised his voice a little as I removed my hat and gloves. “You look like a popsicle. Did you walk here?” I nodded. “Are you crazy? It's barely 20 degrees out--”

  “I don't drive--”

  “Right,” he said, thumping himself on the side of the head. “I keep forgetting that you've been a town-bouncer all your life.”

  I lowered my eyebrows and tried to meet his gaze as he purposelessly avoided meeting mine.

  “Steph!” Rachel said, walking to the table in a cute pink dress, white apron, and notepad in hand.

  “Rachel... you work here?”

  “Uh-huh,” she smacked her gum, confirming yet another diner waitress stereotype. “What can I getcha to drink?”

  “I'm fine with the water--”

  “And to eat?”

  “Pancakes, I guess-”

  “I'll have the same,” Isaac chimed in.

  She sent him a flirtatious smile as she bounced away to place the order. Isaac grinned, shook his head, and gulped down another drink of orange juice.

  “I want to tell you they'll stop,” I said. “But I doubt it.”

  “I'm sorry?”

  “The girls. The flirting. The flocking. Surely you've noticed by now that Webster Grove isn't full of young, attractive, available men.”

  He laughed. “It's okay. Not to sound vain, but I'm kinda used to it”

  “Big ladies' man back in...where are you from anyway?”

  “Uh,” he raised the glass to his lips once again. “New York.”

  “Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “And I'm Tyra Banks.”

  “You don't believe me?” I shook my head. “You're prerogative.”

  “I guess so,” I smirked, peering at him over the water.

  We sat quietly for a few moments and measured each other up. I could see deception in his bright, blue eyes. Still, I trusted him. His golden locks were more California than New York, though he dressed like a northerner, and twanged like a southerner. There was something intriguing about Isaac Peyton... and I wanted to figure him out.

  “How long have you been seeing Mr. Rivera?”

  The glass didn't make it to my mouth. My hands, like the rest of my body, suddenly went numb at the accusation. Water rushed down as we jumped from either side of the booth and worked quickly to soak up the spreading liquid. After managing to dry the table, he met my gaze and raised his eyebrows again. “So?”

  “I don't know what you're talking about-”

  “You can't lie to me,” he said, raising the orange juice to his mouth. “Fess up.”

  Silence...

  “I'm sorry, but I think you're reading way too much into-”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes?”

  “Am I?”

  “Isaac!”

  “You want to talk about Thanksgiving?” He squinted his blue eyes and lowered his gaze, doing an uncanny impression of a cop in an interrogation room. Without the confession he was hoping for, he rested his arms on the table and leaned forward to whisper. “I watched you open the door to him wearing nothing but a towel, Steph. You let him in, for only a few moments, and then he left. And you didn't take your eyes off of him until he was outta sight.”

  “He brought me-”

  “I see the way you look at him.”

  “Let me-”

  “And the poem. God, Steph. Classic move, there.”

  “Okay,” I said, shutting him up. He shined his cocky smile and crossed his arms, basking in my defeat. “I can see how that looks bad--”

  “It doesn't look good-”

  “Shut up! Okay... just let me explain. His brother is engaged to my mom,” I said, finally admitting the (somewhat) truth. “She and Calvin left me alone for the holiday and Alex was only dropping off some food for the weekend-”

  “Uh-huh.” He didn't believe me.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “You don't have to say anything,” he said. “It's in your eyes.”

  I shook my head and thanked God when Rachel interrupted with two plates of pancakes and enough syrup to spark a sugar high.

  “Anything else I can getcha?”

  “Water,” I said, dry-mouthed and caught in a lie.

  She bounced away as Isaac took a bite and smiled. “Your secret's safe with me, Steph. I'm a trustworthy guy.”

  “I'd thank you... if I had a secret. But I don't-”

  “Right,” he said, obviously humoring me.

  Who am I kidding? I'm surprised it took this long for someone to catch on. Isaac wasn't stupid. He wasn't crazy or even slightly confused. He knew what was going on... probably better than I did.

  “Why are we here?” I asked, cutting into the three-stacked pancakes in front of me.

  “Breakfast.”

  “Let me try that again. Why are we here? Just so you could hound me about something that is none of your business?”

  “So you admit there's something—”

  “Isaac,” I scolded.

  “Steph,” he mocked in a high pitch voice. “I wanted to ask you about Bridget.”

  “What about her?”

  “Is she single?”

  “Yes!” Oh, thank God! He's interested in Bridget! “Do you want her number?'

  “Nope,” he wiped his mouth. “Just needed a bit of information before I make my move.”

  Thursday December 08

  Five days had passed. Though it was Thursday, it was our first day back in school since our expression p
resentations on Friday. Mother Nature hadn't received the memo that Mr. Rivera had a strict, unyielding attitude toward staying on schedule. Thus, inclement weather kept the residents of Webster Grove snowed in and unable to go to or from work and school.

  It had been a very interesting few days at home with the “happy couple.” Mom shifted into her wedding planning funk, setting a date for April 07. I tried to convince myself I was surprised that she was going to marry this man after only six months, but they were engaged after three weeks. The words Caroline and surprise didn't even belong in the same sentence. I'd come to expect just about anything from her.

  Calvin, on the other hand, wore the same irritable, aggravated, impatient attitude his brother had been wearing in class for the past two weeks. While Cal, unlike Alex, kept his temper and snappy comments at bay, I couldn't help but wonder if the Rivera brothers were celebrating the annual pre-Christmas blues. Alex didn't show up for class today and the rumor mill went nuts. Apparently, in his three years of teaching at Webster Grove, Alexander Rivera had never missed a day.

  “Good morning, Steph,” Isaac leaned on the locker next to mine as I shoved my books inside.

  “Isaac.”

  “I have a quick question and then I have to get to class-”

  “She likes sweets, but hates chocolate. She's not dumb, just a little ditsy and just because she raises her voice she's not always angry. She hates super romantic stuff, but appreciates effort. She likes blonde hair, blue eyes, and a cute smile... which works out nicely for you, I guess-”

  “Not about Bridget,” he cut me off.

  “Oh--”

  “Would you like to come to dinner tonight?”

  “With who?”

  “Me.”

  “Isaac—”

  “Not a date,” he said. “I wanted to formally introduce you to my dad—”

  “Whoa-”

  “Again, not a date-”

  “I kinda need an explanation—”

  “He's an artist, like me. Everything I know, I learned from him; from landscapes to human form. And Bridget was bragging about your clothing designs last week in French and mentioned that you applied to the Adriana Holbrook Summer Program in Paris.”