I wanted to say something, to explain, but he just glanced at my "Who Needs Boys?" T-shirt, made a snuffing sound, shook his head, and turned away. I wanted to make a joke, make him smile at me, something. The shirt doesn't mean anything. I didn't want to come on too strong. Too desperate. Like I really am. And I for sure didn't invite my mom! She totally made that stuff up. You don't understand!
"I'm sorry," I squeaked, then rushed out of the room.
By the time I got back, Helen had already shown everyone how to make knots. She came over to give me a private lesson, but I shook my head. Helen sighed and sent me into the kitchen to bring out the cake.
Gideon stayed in his room playing angry violin music.
Chapter Twenty-two
ROOM PARTY!
Han, I'm not sure this is a good idea." The two of us rode up in the elevator to a suite at a non—cake-and-pie-delivery casino. José from Wooster had called Hannah to invite us. As we followed the squiggly patterns on the carpet down to the suite, I wondered if Wooster Tom would be there. Did I really care? Maybe. Or maybe I just needed someone to fill the guy slot in my ongoing fantasy of having an actual boyfriend. I imagined my life as one of those daytime soaps where they switch actors all of a sudden. The deep voice would say, Tonight the role of Jory's Possible Boyfriend will be played by Wooster Tom.
"Look, if Alex is going to be a total nun, I'm not waiting around. Especially after what happened to Megan." Hannah fluffed her short, newly highlighted strawberry-frosting-colored hair. "José's got quite the hot bod, plus he's sweet and adorable. He sends me the funniest text messages." Hannah skipped down the hall. "Do you have your ten bucks?"
Rap music boomed from the suite as we stood in front of the door.
"I bet Tom will be totally excited to see you," Hannah said. "José said he'd be here."
My stomach went wah-wah-wah. "Hannah, he's never even asked me for my number or anything." I said it more for my own benefit than Hannah's as I fanned my hair out behind me.
"Well, here goes." Hannah knocked on the door. Nothing. We both whacked the door. Nothing. The music beat out a fast rhythm. "They can't hear us."
"Hannah, let's go see a movie or something." My wah-wah stomach turned whoa-whoa. But I ignored any doubts as the door swung open. An older guy with a soul patch and a knit cap opened the door. "Ladies, welcome. Do you have your entry fee?" We each handed him ten bucks. "Go get yourself set up with drinks, and party on."
"Great!" Hannah smiled. I noticed she'd sprayed tons of glitter in her hair. The room smelled like a mixture of sweet marijuana smoke, lemon cleanser, and chlorine. I scratched my nose with the edge of my fingernail, trying not to mess up my nose-minimizing makeup.
People sat around in the living room on cushy little sofas and chairs. Two girls with long blond hair passed a joint between themselves; over by the bar, a few girls and a couple of guys sat in a hot tub.
"Hannah Banana!" José stood up in the middle of the hot tub. "Get yourself a drink and join us." He held up a bottle of beer. A few of the girls gave Hannah the evil eye, but she still waved, all cheerful.
"Hi, everyone!"
"Han? Did you bring a swimsuit?" I asked.
She giggled. "No, but I'm wearing a totally cute bra and matching panties."
Oh. My. God. My friends are out of control. First Megan freaks out over Tyler's big secret. Now Hannah is going crazy because Alex from Church refused to kiss her after driving her home from a youth-group dance. (He told her that he'd made an abstinence pledge and that kissing could lead to other temptations. Hannah tried to convince him that she had also made an abstinence pledge, but that didn't mean she would never kiss anyone good night. He called her a Jezebel, so she got out of the car and walked the rest of the way home. Two miles. At midnight. Her parents almost killed her.)
And here she was with her hair dyed pink, heading over to a fridge filled with alcohol, and wearing a cute bra to a party with a bunch of Wooster guys we didn't really know. Hannah handed me a bottle of hard lemonade, twisted the cap off hers, and drank it down in gulps. Lately, Hannah had been treating her body less like a temple and more like ancient ruins—tangling her morality with viny contradictions. "Han—?"
"I'm just going to have a little," she said. "According to Alex, I'm a total sinner, so what's one little drink? I'm sick of always being the good girl. What good has it done me?"
Not knowing what to say, I twisted my hair around my hand, finally muttering, "Uh. Okay, I guess."
Hannah finished her drink, grabbed another one out of the fridge, and headed over to the hot tub, where she sat on the edge and dangled her legs in the water. Wooster José had his wet hands all over her knees.
I stood in the kitchen by myself, assessing my situation. Okay, it's August. Let's see. Summer goals:
• Not dying a virgin (Nope, still headed for the convent. Or, worse, Judith Hearne misery.)
• Finding a passion (Nope. Can't stand foreign films. Too klutzy for yoga. Mom ruined the whole jewelry thing for me. That leaves boys. Just boys. Pathetic boys. No good prospects.)
Tragedy of my young teen life: my only passion is boys, yet my big nose prevents any possibility of romance. I'm a doomed Cyrano without the clever wit. Another story I hate: man with big nose has to use good-looking guy to win girl. I could try using Hannah, but everyone would just fall in love with her. Yet:
• The nose fund: $2,568.00 (Appointment with plastic surgeon: Tuesday.)
A group of guys burst into the suite. "Munchies from the gift shop!" they yelled. My stomach fluttered when I spotted Tom wearing a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and long, baggy shorts. Nice arms. Nice legs.
"Hey!" He hugged me, lifting me off the ground. "Nice to see you."
I took a long drink of hard lemonade. "Hi!"
"I keep meaning to get your number—"
"No biggie." I finished my drink and turned around to get another bottle out of the fridge. Tom leaned over me and grabbed a beer.
"Come sit with me." Tom walked over to the group on the little sofas. He sat down and pulled me onto his lap, then reached around and put his hand on my leg. Warm. The guys played some car-chasing, shoot-everything-that-moves video game. Why hadn't I at least tried to play with Finn every once in a while? Who knew playing video games could be an important boyfriend-obtaining skill?
After dying in about forty-five seconds when I tried, I refused every time it was my turn, sipping my drink until I started to feel a little silly. I leaned back against Tom, and he put his arm around my stomach. He finished his beer and called for a guy to toss him another one, catching it in his hand as it flew across the room. Beer fizzed out of the can when he opened it.
"Get the foam." Tom laughed. "Hurry!"
I leaned down and slurped the bubbly beer off the edge of the can; Tom shared the rest with me. We took turns taking sips. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Hannah pull off her T-shirt and shorts and slip into the water. One of the other girls got out. Then so did her friends; I watched the girl run into the bathroom in tears, but I didn't care. Live-in-the-moment Hannah always gets the cute guys. I felt warm all over. Tingly. The beer tasted bitter but kind of good. Better with each sip, at least. The girl sitting next to us got up and left, but I stayed on Tom's lap. A slow song played in the background. A few girls put their arms around one another, singing along.
"Tom! Come play quarters with us." A couple of guys waved Tom over to the little table near the windows.
"You want to?" Tom asked.
"Shurtainly." I laughed. "I mean—" More giggles. Everything seemed fuzzy and funny. I tried to stand up but fell against Tom's lap.
"You're not driving, are you?" Tom asked.
"Nope." I shook my head. "I drive for my job, even though I'm kind of a bad driver." I put my hand over my mouth. "Don't tell my boss."
Tom laughed. "We're going to pass on the quarters, guys."
One of them called him a chicken. Someone else made some kind of rude comment a
bout me being Tom's chick. Someone else rhymed that with dick; I laughed even though the joke was about me.
Tom slid the balcony door open and took my hand. "Let's go outside."
"The lights look so pretty, like Christmas or something." I wobbled like a baby deer. A reindeer like Rudolph. Big red nose. Big Wooster Tom. Strange thoughts floated through my mind, bumping together like Katie's random helium-balloon messages. Everything seemed funny.
The hot air outside felt cozy, and the lights sparkling all around downtown looked pretty. Not the usual depressing old casinos with drunks begging for money. Everything seemed possible; I peered over the edge of the balcony and felt dizzy.
"Watch out." Tom put his arms around me from behind. I turned around and faced him.
"I kind of like you, Tom, even though I haven't obsessed about you for twelve months, six days, and however many minutes."
He played with my hair. "I'm not sure what that means, but I like you too."
I pressed my hand against his chest to steady myself. "Hey, I still have your shirt." I giggled. "I slept with it."
"Oh, yeah?" Tom's hand drifted a little below my waist.
"In it. I slept in it."
Through the window, I saw Hannah reach up and pull José into the hot tub. José splashed her, then pulled her close. I watched them kiss as if it were some kind of movie starring Hannah; she falls in love with the gorgeous football player, and I play the plain-but-sympathetic friend. I looked at Tom watching Hannah kiss José.
"José's been thinking about her since the Rodeo Carnival," Tom said. "I think he created this whole party just to invite her."
I pulled Tom's arms more tightly around me. I wanted to be the one kissing someone. Anyone. Why was it always Hannah, or Megan, or some skinny model on TV? It was supposed to be me when Gideon had kissed me at the park. It was finally going to be my turn.
"Let's go back inside," Tom said. "I feel like—"
"A peeping Tom?" I giggled.
"Haven't heard that one before." He slid the door open, walked over to the fridge, and grabbed another beer. "You ready for a soda or water, maybe?"
I slipped my hand up under his shirt; his stomach felt hard and warm. "Nah."
Tom glanced at Hannah and José alone in the hot tub. Most of the people had left the party, but I didn't care what time it was. Hannah's mom was out of town and I was spending the night at her house, so we had all kinds of time. Tonight was the night for magic.
"Come here." Tom pulled my hand out of his shirt and led me to a closed door. He knocked softly. No one answered, so he opened the door. A few of the guys playing quarters made rude comments. One cheered, something like "Tommy! Go for it!"
Tom led me over to the bed. The city lights twinkled through the big window, casting a soft glow in the room. As we sat down I noticed the bedspread was all messed up, but I didn't care. This was totally romantic, right? I reached up and knocked his baseball cap off.
"Hey," he said. "The hair."
I reached up and ran my hand through his spiky buzzcut. "That tickles."
He ran his hand through my long hair but got it stuck in my curls. "You're like Rapunzel."
"So kiss me." My head felt dizzy. But finally I knew what to say!
He leaned down and kissed me. The stale taste of beer filled my mouth as his tongue moved around mine. Kind of slobbery, but my whole body felt electric. I kissed him back, hoping I was doing things right. He pushed me down on the bed and lay next to me, kissing. He put his hand up under my shirt and under my bra. I copied him and put my hand under his shirt, rubbing the muscles on his chest.
We kissed for a long time, until my lips felt puffy and numb. Tom slid his hand down my pants. I pushed it back. He slid it down to the band of my panties. I pushed it back.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing." I kissed him on the neck. He pushed my head down toward his boxers, which had slid up out of his baggy shorts. Or maybe his shorts had slid down. Something. My brain felt foggy. I pushed myself back up next to him and tried to kiss him again, but he took my hand and put it on his—his penis!
"What's that?" I started laughing. "Oh, my God! Is that your—"
I lay back down, laughing like I was watching the funniest movie ever. The whole thing seemed so silly, so not what I'd imagined as far as the romantic setting, the love-of-my-life guy, the lack of a curfew. I definitely hadn't imagined feeling so dizzy and a little sick to my stomach. Everything was wrong, but so funny!
"Stop laughing!" Tom pulled his shorts up and rolled off the bed.
"It's just so funny. Not you. This." I couldn't explain myself, so I kept laughing while Tom looked all over the floor in the dark for his baseball cap.
"You acted like you wanted it," he said. "Coming on so strong."
I stopped laughing and sat up. "I don't know what I want." My hair was shooting out in all directions; my shirt and bra were twisted all around. My stomach lurched as I stood up, straightened my shirt, rehooked my bra, sort of, and smoothed down my hair. "Not this," I said with a chuckle.
"I don't want this either." He spat the words at me. "You're not even that hot. Not even worth it."
People cheered as Tom walked out and shut the door on me. The slam of the heavy outer door followed, reverberating throughout the entire suite. I waited a few minutes, letting his words sink in: "Not even worth it." Translation: ugly.
The lights hurt my eyes as I entered the living room. Hannah snuggled with José on the sofa, playing footsies, but the guys playing quarters laughed at me. I reached up, felt my hair, which was all tangled and wild, and ran back into the bedroom. I found the bathroom and flipped on the lights.
Under the harsh fluorescent lights I looked like smooshed birthday cake. Mascara smudged around my eyes, cover-up swirled on my nose; my mouth looked puffy and red, and my hair was matted into knots. I didn't have a brush. Hannah knocked on the bathroom door as I took a long drink from the sink faucet and rubbed the makeup off my face with a wet towel.
"You okay, Jory?" She opened the door, glanced at me, and looked away.
"Yeah, but I have to get out of here."
"I'm not quite ready to leave," Hannah said, checking her teeth in the mirror. "José's such a sweetie. He's going to take me out to breakfast tomorrow since my mom's out of town and everything. Isn't that the sweetest?" Hannah looked so pretty—her skin was flushed a pale rose color that complemented her wet hair tied up in pigtails.
"What?" I stared at her, my mouth hanging open.
Hannah blinked at me. "It's just that I really want to savor this moment, Jor. This has been the best night of the summer. José planned it all for me."
"Can't you go home and call him and still go to breakfast or whatever?"
"Please, Jor?" Hannah smiled all coy. "Just this once."
"You want me to call my mom?" Empty threat, right?
"Will you? Oh, thanks! You're the best." Hannah hugged me. "I feel terrible, but—" She didn't even finish her sentence before running out and flopping next to José on the little couch.
"I can't believe this." I wiped my face clean, braided my hair, and stumbled out of the room without looking at anyone. Especially Hannah.
I left the suite and took the elevator down to the casino level. No one noticed me as I lost myself in the maze of jangling machines and blackjack tables. Everything seemed kind of hazy. My head hurt, and my stomach didn't feel much better. I wanted my mom. I clicked on my cell phone and looked at the time, blinking away the tears in my eyes. In seventeen years I'd never had to call my mom to come rescue me—especially not at three in the morning. I had no idea how she'd react, but it wouldn't be good. I could take a cab to Hannah's house. But then what? Wait on her front steps all night? How much did a cab cost, anyway? I opened my purse, rummaged around, found three dollars in change. Damn nose fund.
I staggered out of the casino into the flashy downtown lights. I could walk home. I turned around, blinking. That way! Or was it that dire
ction? I'd lost my bearings. A drunk stumbled up to me, mumbling, staring at my boobs. I ran back inside and dialed home.
"Mom?" I couldn't stop myself from crying. "Come and get me."
Chapter Twenty-three
CAKES AND CRUSHES CRUSHED
What's wrong with me? It's 5:30 A.M. on a Saturday during my so-called summer of passion (yeah, right!), and I'm pedaling like crazy down Arlington to get to work on time. At least I'm feeling slightly warmer. What's with the clouds and wind in August?
Katie wanted me at work by 5:45 in the morning! Two weddings. After rubbing my arms and trying not to look like I'd biked to work, I helped Katie set the cake layers carefully into the van for the morning wedding at San Rafael Park. Don't even think about Gideon!
What's so romantic about sunrise? The bride would probably have puffy eyes; the groom would have bed head; all the guests would be crabby. And cake at six in the morning? Should've ordered a mega box of doughnuts, or a doughnut cake, or the world's biggest cinnamon roll.
I drove the van to do the initial setup while Katie stayed behind to put the finishing touches on the second cake. The second cake looked like a spaceship: oval layers covered with silver sugar crystals sat on top of the other, slightly offset, like something out of an old sci-fi movie. When I get married, my cake—I stopped the thought. Who would marry me? Boys only liked me in the dark. Drunk boys. All the others just played mind games or practiced their best flirting moves so they could use them on better girls, like Hannah and Megan. Megan had been at her dad's house for two weeks and had already gone out to a few parties with guys—high school guys—from her dad's surf school. Weirdest of all, she wrote long emails about finding her "authentic self" and had started to read the touchy-feely books that Hannah had been recommending for years. And Hannah? She hadn't been reading much besides Jose's text messages—about a million a day. He actually took her places—the beach, mountain biking, action movies, concerts in the park. She even joined his no-yoga-classes-available gym so they could lift weights together. Weights! Hannah barely apologized for the fact that her super-romantic breakfast had gotten me grounded "until further notice." That's a direct quote from Mom; it sounded more like something she stamped on bad mortgages. Jory Michaels's life will be denied until further notice.
My Big Nose and Other Natural Disasters Page 16
