The Webster Grove Series

by Puckett, Tracie

  “Yup,” I said, pushing Nate's hand off me for the second time. “I'm gonna thump you--”

  “I love it when you talk rough—”

  “Don't you have somewhere to be?” I scolded him.

  “Detention!” he said, proudly. “Isaac, make sure she gets home safe, dude.”

  “Always do.”

  It was only a summer benefit living a block away from school. In the winter, with all the snow and ice, I'd take a ride from anyone who would offer one. And in my case, the offer came from Isaac Peyton. Every. Single. Day.

  We reached the English classroom to find a closed door. Isaac took hold of the handle. It didn't budge.

  “Locked. Maybe he forgot.”

  I knocked and listening for a moment. “I guess so.”

  We started to turn away as the door swung open. I turned back and dropped my smile at the sight of Miss Holt standing in the doorway.

  Karen Holt was a woman I... is loathed too strong? I'll keep it simple and say that she's possibly the only person I've ever hated with every fiber of my being. Why? Since my first day in Webster Grove she's treated me with nothing but disrespect. She argued against me running the costume crew during the fall production, talked down to me at any given chance, and walked around school like everyone owed her a favor. Of course, most of my hatred stems from watching her throw herself at Alex.

  “Did you two need something?” she flipped her perfectly pin-straight blonde hair behind her shoulder.

  “Yeah,” Isaac moved back. “We were supposed to meet Mr. Riv—”

  “He's not here,” she snapped.

  “What are you doing in his room—”

  “I hardly think that's any of your business, Miss Ghijk.” She raised her nose and stepped back inside, closing the door behind her.

  “I guess this conversation is over,” Isaac said, rolling his eyes. “We'll get 'em tomorrow. Let's go.”

  Isaac dropped me off outside our two-story brick rental on Main before turning into his own driveway across the street. I walked up the porch steps, turned the key in the lock, and pushed the door open as far as I could. It was stuck on something.

  “Hello?” I wedged my head inside, hoping to get somebody's attention. The entire foyer was covered with flower arrangements, candies, and every size of stuffed animal imaginable. “Hello? Can someone please let me in?”

  “Coming!” Cal yelled from the kitchen.

  Moments later he cleared a pathway.

  “I know you have a big personality,” I said stepping in. “But this is a bit too much. Even for you.”

  “I didn't do this,” he assured me.

  I picked up a bouquet and read the card; Happy Valentine’s Day, Steph.

  “They're all for you. Wanna venture a guess where they came from?”

  I ignored him and stared at the flowers. “Daisies...”

  “Every single one.”

  “Is this a joke?” I asked, before noticing a box of Cupid Candy Grams sitting on the floor next to the stairs.

  “Steph,” Cal lowered his gaze. “Whatever is going on between—”

  “Nothing,” I assured him.

  “Popular excuse--”

  “Nothing.”

  “Without saying too much,” he rubbed his head. “I know how you feel about Alex, and I know how he feels about you—”

  “Yeah?”

  He scratched the side of his neck. “Just... don't do anything stupid, Steph.”

  “Couldn't if I wanted to,” I said, carrying a giant teddy bear up the steps. “Riveras are headstrong, remember? I'll be down to get the rest later, Cal.”

  “Steph, I'm trying to talk to you—”

  “Hearing you loud and clear, Cal,” I yelled as I reached the top floor. “Be careful. Think clearly. Keep your head on straight. Blah blah blah—”

  “Women!” I heard him say as I walked toward the furthest bedroom at the end of the hall.

  I love this room— a spacious, personalized space with a hint of sass; decorated perfectly with framed drawings of my clothing and costume designs. The best feature of all, of course, is the large window that overlooks the backyard. Who cares that the view is slightly obstructed by the giant oak tree growing alongside the house? That's one of the reasons I adore it; this place was designed for a teenager needing an escape.

  I entered the room and noticed another gift sitting dead center on the window seat, awaiting my arrival… a vase full of bright red roses. Those, however, could wait for a moment. For now, I had to text Alex.

  (Abcdef Ghijk to Alexander Rivera)

  You're amazing. Thank you for the wonderful gifts. Happy Valentine’s Day, Alex. XOXO

  I finally turned back to the flowers by the window and read the card:

  I hope to tell you one day how much you truly mean to me. For now, I'll bide my time. Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.

  No name.

  Who would write this?

  Nate?

  Or maybe Isaac?

  I looked outside to see footprints in the snow. They lead right up to the oak tree. Whoever bought these flowers delivered them themselves.

  Which means one thing… I have to start locking this window...

  Chapter Three

  Wednesday February 15

  “Good morning, Miss Ghijk.” His brown eyes followed my movement as I came in.

  “Mr. Rivera,” I nodded. “Did you have a nice Valentine’s day?”

  “Quiet,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You?”

  I took my seat and sat down, facing the front of the room. “It was... different.”

  “Yeah?” He stood up and moved to the blackboard and began writing in his usual small strokes.

  “My boyfr...this guy... he's...,” I shook my head and tried to regain composure. “There's a fella—”

  “Okay...” Although I couldn't see his face, I could tell by his tone that he was fighting his heart-melting smirk.

  “And... well, he's been giving me a lot of mixed signals.”

  He dropped the chalk in the tray below and turned to face me. “How so?”

  I didn't want to risk having this conversation here despite the fact we were the only two in the room... and probably would be for the next five minutes. I looked at the clock and decided I had enough time.

  “Well,” I started. “He brought me a Thanksgiving basket—”

  “From his grandmother—”

  “And lied to me and said it was from his grandmother.”

  He bit his lip and knew he couldn't protest.

  “Is that all?” he asked.

  “He gave me an incredible Christmas gift—”

  “Just one?”

  “A few,” I smiled. “Then on New Year’s—”

  “A kiss to bring in a new year,” he commented. “That's traditional—”

  “And he always seems to find my hand under the table if we're sitting close enough during a Saturday dinner—”

  “Sounds like a charmer,” he said, turning to walk to his desk. He sat down and flipped through the lesson plans.

  “He hinted at the L word, only to take it back—”

  “Did he take it back?”

  “And he insists on not having a relationship—”

  “Yet.”

  “But then I come home from school yesterday to find a foyer full of daisies, candies, and stuffed animals.”

  He looked up and bit his bottom lip. “And that made you feel....?”

  “Confused.”

  The first bell rang. My best friend shot into the room smiling like I'd never seen her smile before. Mr. Rivera and I stared at each other for a few short moments before I turned to Bridget, who had already tak
en her seat.

  “What's wrong with you?”

  “Wrong?” she whispered, still wearing a grin suitable for a Cheshire cat. “Ab-so-lu-tely nothing.”

  I watched her for a moment. Her fingers were twitching and her whole body was fidgeting as she pulled an ink pen from her purse. “Bridge, why are you acting—”

  “We did it,” she said a little too loud.

  I looked at Mr. Rivera, the only other person in the room, and then back to Bridget. “Who did what?” I lowered my voice, hoping the information that followed wouldn't be what I suspected.

  “Me. Isaac... It.”

  I closed my eyes. “Bridge--”

  “Two consenting adults, Steph. I don't need you to—”

  “We're you—”

  “Safe, safe, safe,” she said. “I promise.”

  “Was he--”

  “Gentle and loving as could be,” she said, finally speaking above a whisper. “But you'd understand. I'm sure you and Nate—”

  “No!” I cut her off, acting a little more repulsed than I should, considering he was supposedly my boyfriend. “I mean, we're not in that place—”

  “Uh-huh,” she smirked.

  “So, things are pretty serious with you guys?”

  “We're in love,” she assured me. “I've never met anyone like him.”

  Thursday February 16

  Just yesterday Bridget told me that she and Isaac had taken their relationship to the next level. I know I shouldn't have been surprised; this day and age, waiting past high school is a feat for most people. But this was Bridget Wright; a girl who wouldn't even say the word sex and cringed every time she had to spell it. Still, I trusted Bridget to make the best decisions for herself. Besides, who am I to judge whether someone is right or wrong? My current relationship situation doesn't exactly scream squeaky clean.

  I never got to finish the conversation with Alex. While I caught an occasional glance during class or in the hallway, he hadn't said or done anything out of the ordinary.

  I sat down next to Nate at our usual table.

  “What's for lunch?” I asked him.

  He looked at the tray and scoffed. “Just as much of a mystery to you as it is to me,” he said, looking at the empty space in front of me. “You're not eating again?”

  “Haven't been hungry—”

  “That's four days in a row you haven't eaten anything for lunch, Steph.”

  “You’re keeping count?”

  “You're eating at home, right? You're not like... starving yourself are you?”

  “No!”

  “Because...you're skinny and stuff... you don't have to be irrational about dieting—”

  “I'm not trying to lose weight,” I snapped. “I'm just not hungry. Can we move on?”

  “Let's,” he agreed. “What's the deal with you and Tarzan lately?”

  Tarzan was Nate’s nickname for Mr. Rivera. He started calling him this last week after Bridget described our English teacher as nothing short of exotic, dark, and mysterious.

  “No news,” I said honestly. “He's been distant.”

  “Distance is a good thing, Steph,” he assured me. “At least until after graduation.”

  “I know,” I sighed. We both sat in silence for a few moments before I looked at Nate and met his gaze. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Always—”

  “You don't like me as more than a friend, do you?”

  “God, no,” he said, a little taken aback. “I mean, you're great and stuff, but no. Why? Is Tarzan not enough for you?”

  I smirked. “I got a strange valentine on Tuesday. I thought it mighta been from you.”

  “Candy gram?”

  “Roses. On the window seat in my room. They came with a weird note too. Something like, I can't wait until I can tell you how much you mean to me.”

  “Hmm,” he sat up straighter. “Isaac maybe?”

  “That was my next guess.”

  Bridget and Isaac plopped down across from us with their trays. Bridget, as always, settled for nothing more than an apple and a bottle of water. Isaac, like Nate, had a mountain of steaming hot mystery food piled on his plate.

  Despite their differences, and the fact that Nate only trusts Isaac as far as he can throw him, the two boys were doing their best to maintain a friendly environment for their female counterparts.

  “I'm exhausted.” Bridget rubbed her eyes.

  Isaac put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Hang in there, sweetheart.” He turned to us and mouthed auditions.

  “You're preparing for the show already?”

  “I'm running out of time,” she said dramatically. “I only have four weeks to prepare—”

  “You're going to be fantastic, B,” I smiled. “Who better to play Marian the Librarian?”

  “Auditions are coming up already?” Nate chimed in.

  “Why? You interested in tryin' out again?” I teased him with a playful nudge.

  “God, no!”

  I shared a sly smile with Bridget, remembering my first day at Webster Grove High. It was also the day of the Romeo and Juliet auditions. Nate had lost a bet with Bridget and his price to pay was auditioning for a role in the production. The poor guy landed the lead and got stuck on stage for the next six weeks.

  “What was the bet you lost again?”

  “Forget it, Steph—”

  “He said that Mr. Rivera and Miss Holt would be engaged by the beginning of this year, and they weren't,” Bridget smiled, still basking in his defeat.

  “Why make that gamble?”

  He looked at me and then back to Isaac and Bridget. “Well, Steph,” he started, acting as though he didn't want to answer the question. “Before you moved to town, rumor had it that they were pretty hot and heavy. I thought for sure they'd end up married--”

  “I knew they wouldn't,” Bridget clapped.

  “Are they still together?” Isaac inquired.

  “No,” I spat. “He wouldn't date someone like her.”

  “Obviously he would,” Bridget said. “Because he already did.”

  Chapter Four

  Saturday March 03

  “We're not meeting tonight,” Cal said, popping his head into my room. '”Caroline needs a break from all the planning.”

  “Okay,” I nodded.

  We'd had two meetings since Valentine’s day. Mom finally settled on a color for the wedding— a beautiful shade of light yellow. Now, I wonder where she ever got that idea?

  Alex had been doing exactly what he promised on Christmas Eve… waiting, and at a distance. While I waited each Saturday for his hand to find mine, he'd kept to himself. His eyes still lit up when we talked... but he remained silently clear on one thing: he was going to start keeping his hands (and lips) far from me.

  “She has a birthday coming up,” he told me, as if I didn't know. “Interested in tagging along on a shopping trip?”

  “For mom?” Not even a little bit. “Sure.”

  “She's getting ready for an evening nap—”

  “You want to go now?”

  “Are you up to it?”

  I nodded and put my sketch book aside.

  After an hour of seemingly endless shopping and no purchases to show for it, Calvin stopped off at a high-end jewelry store.

  “I think I'll wait in the car. You know her better.”

  “You sure?”

  “Oh yeah,” I said, pulling the cell phone from my pocket. “Go ahead. I'm not going anywhere.”

  Calvin disappeared. I stared at the screen in front of me, contemplating on whether or not I should try to reach out to his brother. I decided to text:

  (Abcdef Ghijk to Alexander Rivera)


  No dinner tonight. Birthday shopping for mom. It's your first free Saturday night in weeks! Any big plans?

  As fast as I sent the message I received:

  (Alexander Rivera to Abcdef Ghijk)

  Nothing exciting.

  ...really? That's it?

  I sat quietly for another twenty minutes before Calvin reappeared.

  “Find anything good?” I asked.

  He lifted his hand and patted his chest pocket. “Yes, ma'am!”

  “Great,” I mumbled. “Take me home.”

  He started the car and sent me a worried look. “What did he do?”

  “Who?”

  “My brother—”

  “Nothing.”

  “You've been short for a couple weeks, Steph. Obviously you're unhappy—”

  “I'm fine,” I nearly yelled. “Can we just...”

  “Would you mind if I stopped by the restaurant real quick? I need to check in—”

  “Whatever.”

  The drive felt like every bit of its ten long minutes. We finally reached Calvera's and I slumped lower with my arms crossed.

  “Nope,” he shook his head. “You're coming. Get out.”

  “What?”

  “Now.”

  Seeing the relentlessness in his eyes, I threw the seat belt off and jumped out of the car.

  “That's my girl.” He placed his arm around my shoulder as we walked into the back entrance of the restaurant.

  “Wow,” I whispered, taking in the site. “This kitchen is freaking huge—”

  “My home away from home!” he said, proudly. “Nick,” he stopped a tall, brunette man. “Remember Caroline's daughter, Steph?”

  Isaac's father stood before me, dressed in a white coat and carrying a pot of boiling water.

  “Oh... you work here?”

  He blinked several times behind his large, round glasses. “Steph. Nice to see you again.”

  “I hired Nick last month,” Calvin told me. “He's my right hand man—”

  “Always a sous chef, never an executive,” Nick smiled, not breaking his gaze. “Are you hungry, Steph? I can have the guys whip something up in no time.”

  Starving, actually. But I'll never fit into my bridesmaid dress if I don't lose another five pounds.