Hurricane Kiss

by Deborah Blumenthal

  “What the hell?” he said, looking at River then back at me.

  “River found the Frisbee,” I said. “And the tradition …” It came out worse than stupid—breathless, in a rush. I reached behind River’s back and pulled it from the waistline of his jeans as if to give Aidan tangible proof that I wasn’t lying. Like that might matter now.

  Fury rose in Aidan’s face as he stepped closer to River. I had never seen him look like that. “Keep. Your hands. Off. My girlfriend. You dick.”

  River looked back at him, a smirk on his face.

  “Maybe you’re the dick for leaving her alone while you played basketball.”

  That was it. Aidan flew at him, sending both of them to the ground. Aidan worked at trying to punch River in the face, again and again, struggling against River’s weight, while River kept ducking, and then finally went on the attack.

  It was my fault. I should never have let River kiss me. I should have stopped him sooner. If I had this never would have happened.

  “Aidan, stop it. River, get off him!”

  But they ignored me. River was a couple of inches taller than Aidan and had more bulk, but Aidan made up for it in wiry strength and rage. They rolled on the ground, each of them trying to stay on top and score as many punches and choke holds as they could before the other one got on top and tried to pin the other down using fists, elbows, and knees. They cursed at each other’s faces in breathless rants.

  “Stop it, stop it,” I kept screaming. But neither of them seemed to hear me.

  A crowd started to form around them, and Ryan Whyte from the football team tried to get between them and push them apart.

  “Stop it, man,” Ryan said to River. “C’mon, break it up.” But River got out of his grip and went at Aidan again. Ryan pulled at River’s shoulders, but he couldn’t manage to separate them.

  Finally Coach Briggs ran over and pushed his bulk between them.

  “It’s over,” he shouted, forcing them apart with his beefy arms. They both stood away, breathing hard, glaring at each other, wiping away sweat and blood.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” the coach roared, glaring at River. Then he turned to Aidan with the same hard expression. “And you!”

  Neither of them answered. Blood was dripping out of Aidan’s nose, and he kept trying to shake it away with his hand, before coughing and spitting it out.

  “You fuck,” he mumbled to River.

  “Fuck you,” River said, stepping up to him.

  “Do you want to get suspended?” the coach yelled. “Both of you?”

  River shook his head.

  “No, sir,” Coach Briggs said.

  “No, sir,” River said, the slightest edge to his voice, as he wiped blood off his mouth with the back of his hand and then spat on the ground.

  The coach stared at Aidan, waiting.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then get control of yourselves and go back to the picnic.” He pointed the way as if they didn’t know. Aidan followed River up the hill as Coach Briggs stood there watching them.

  “You OK?” Ryan said to me.

  I nodded, tears streaming out of my eyes.

  “You want me to take you back or drive you home?”

  “No, I’m fine, really.”

  Coach Briggs glared at us and finally turned dismissively, following River and Aidan toward the field. I walked back holding the Frisbee, feeling stupid and responsible. The high of being in the play was gone now. I did something I shouldn’t have, and I got caught. If it wasn’t for me, there wouldn’t have been a fight. And now River and Aidan would pay for it.

  All I wanted was to be alone to think about what had just happened. Guilty, confused feelings swirled inside me. For being responsible for the fight? For kissing River? For feeling something deep and unstoppable that I never felt when Aidan kissed me? For my heart coming alive in a way it never had before? If only I knew what that flood of feelings meant. And whether they were wrong. Or right.

  Aidan was sitting off by himself, leaning against a tree. Blood was still trickling from his nose, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. All the guilt and unease rose up in me again when I looked at him. I handed him a wad of tissues from my pocket.

  “Put pressure on it while I look for ice,” I said.

  He grabbed them away from me without a word.

  We stayed until nine when the picnic was over. Someone from the band was fooling around and played Taps on the trumpet. It made me think of funerals. The whole night ended badly, and most of it was my fault.

  Almost at the same time, everyone headed to the parking lot. As we approached Aidan’s car, Lexie’s high-pitched laugh pierced the quiet. “River and Lexie hooked up,” I heard Sari say to Scott. “I think he was asking her about the tradition.”

  “So?”

  “So?” she repeated. “So she’s a slut.”

  Scott laughed. “So? Some guys like sluts.”

  I stopped. Aidan was so busy nursing his anger he didn’t notice, or pretended not to. So River used the line about the kiss on everyone, the innocent newcomer pretending he had just heard about the tradition. I was an idiot to fall for it.

  I caught up with Aidan and grabbed his arm. “I’m sorry about tonight, really.” He glanced at me coldly.

  “How would you feel if you saw my tongue down Lexie’s throat?”

  “He was fooling around and then—”

  “—Fooling around? It didn’t look like that to me.”

  We got into his car, the click, click of the seat belts locking us into separateness. River’s bike roared to life nearby. Lexie was snaked around him, smiling like she was taking home the winner of the hot guy contest. River sped up next to us, and then abruptly changed lanes cutting us off. Aidan slammed the brakes. “Asshole.”

  River stuck out an arm and held up his middle finger before he floored the gas.

  “You’ll get yours,” Aidan muttered.

  River sits up on the stage and glances over at me, narrowing his eyes, like he’s trying to read my thoughts. “I was thinking about the one-act plays,” I say, and then look away. “We practiced them over and over in here.” He doesn’t answer. “That seems like years ago.”

  RIVER

  It seems like years ago to me too. I try to fight it, to forget, but it all comes back to me in here. I lie back on the stage trying to find a position that doesn’t hurt, working to block out the pounding of the storm.

  I had early practice the day of the picnic, so I didn’t have to help set it up. When I got home Jillian was pulling into her driveway. I walked over and leaned into the driver’s side window, pretending I wasn’t drawn by her perfume.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” She pushed her hair away from her blue eyes and stared up at me.

  “Tell me about the full-moon picnic.”

  “What about it?”

  “Why do they have it?”

  “For fun?”

  “What do you do—‘for fun’?” I said, miming her.

  “The band gives a concert, and sometimes kids in their own bands play. Then there’s stupid stuff like three-legged races.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m in drama and we’re doing a one-act play.”

  “I was in drama in my other school.”

  “Why don’t you join now?” she asked.

  “I don’t have much free time.”

  “It only meets twice a week.”

  “Maybe, I don’t know.”

  “But you’re coming to the picnic?” she asked.

  “You think I’d pass up a free meal?”

  “No, you’re always starving, right?” She pulled into the driveway before I could answer.

  Ever since Ryan had told me about the tradition, I was o
bsessed with the idea of kissing her, which was insane since she was my next-door neighbor. Plus she was seeing someone else, not that I cared. But I didn’t make any decisions right then. I thought I’d see how things went.

  But after everyone ate and started to play games, I saw that some dork pitched the Frisbee into the outfield, and that was an opening for me. I made an end run to get it before she did, which wasn’t hard. She was alone, searching in the dark with the light from her phone when I caught her off guard. I knew she was quiet, shy, so I moved in before she could think about what was happening. I had her in my arms, and I started living out my fantasy. She was so hot, it hurt.

  Christ, don’t go there. It doesn’t matter anymore. I glance over at her. The shorts. The same ones she had on the day after the fight with Aidan, the afternoon I visited her up in the lair after school.

  I was pretty busted up. Black and blue, split lip. Nothing broken or Briggs would have strangled Aidan. I probably got Jillian in trouble with him. I had reason to feel guilty, not that I did, but that was what I wanted her to think and it gave me my excuse. But it was more than that. I just needed to get close to her again, to share the same space. Whatever, I don’t know. All I did know was that I couldn’t stop thinking about her and I had to know if she felt it too.

  Briggs had something to do, which rarely happened, so we got out of practice. I got home early and waited until she pulled into the driveway. Don’t overthink it, I told myself.

  Ethan answered the door. I liked him. He was into music like I was, so we hung out together sometimes. But he knew I wasn’t there to see him. I guess news of the fight spread quickly.

  “She’s upstairs, in the lair,” he said, mockingly.

  “The lair?”

  “Her hideout, above her bedroom.”

  I went upstairs and headed toward the room with the pink and orange colors. I saw a ladder leading up to the attic and realized what he was talking about.

  “Knock, knock,” I said after climbing halfway up.

  “River,” she said, surprised. I liked it when she said my name. I felt like she was staking a claim on me. She was sitting in the corner on the carpet, the open science book in her lap.

  “Permission to enter?”

  She smiled and nodded.

  I walked the rest of the way up and slammed my goddamn head on the pitched roof.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, crawling over to me on her knees. “Are you all right? Everyone does that—I should have warned you.”

  I rubbed my head, pretending not to see the low-cut tank top and shorts with a drawstring tie. One pull on the string and … I felt a jolt. She was so damn close again, I …

  Focus. On her face. Fragile. Delicate skin, intense eyes, and that hair, so much of it, half up, half over her shoulders, like she just got out of bed. I turned and acted interested in the lair. It looked like a tree house. The windows were nearly as high as the tops of the old trees on the front lawn. Wood-paneled walls. Grass-green carpet. All I could think about was what I wanted to do in that tight space hidden away from everybody. “Your secret hideaway?”

  She shrugged. “You like it?”

  “Yeah.” I looked at the sleeping bag. “You sleep up here?”

  “Sometimes.”

  I leaned over it. It had her lemony, flower smell. “Smells like you.”

  “What?” I pretended not to see her blush. What was I starting? Christ, I was out of control, pathetic. If I didn’t switch gears I’d be …

  “Listen,” I said finally. “I came to—”

  “—What?”

  “Apologize. I’m sorry … about the picnic … and everything.”

  “It was my fault. You were playing me with that line about the tradition. I shouldn’t have kissed you …”

  “That’s the part I’m not sorry about,” I said, my heart amping up. I stared at her too long. Her face got pinker, and she was biting her lip.

  Go home, asshole. You’re a walking hard-on. It’s insane to start this. She’s your next-door neighbor. You don’t do that if you have a brain.

  “Then what?”

  “I hope I didn’t mess things up for you—with your boyfriend. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

  “I thought you were the one who would get in trouble.”

  “It was no big deal,” I said.

  “It didn’t look that way.”

  “I’ve gotten my ass kicked before.”

  “I thought Briggs would suspend both of you.”

  “No way. He needs me.”

  “I’m sorry you got hurt, River, really.” She studied my face. “You’re turning yellow.”

  “Chicken shit?”

  She smirked. “As in bruised.” She reached out and gently traced the side of my jaw with her fingertips, and then grimaced. That’s all it took. The lightest touch and I felt the charge everywhere. It happened whenever I was around her. Without thinking, I reached out to grab her hand, but I caught myself. “I better go—”

  “—It’s OK, I—”

  Instead, I ran my hand along the edge of her sleeping bag, and then I stood up fast, smacking my head again like a total genius, forgetting the roof. “Jesus.”

  “Oh God, River, I’m so sorry, I should have warned you again.” She laughed. “This is a dangerous place.”

  It’s you, I wanted to say. But I didn’t. I needed to get out of there fast.

  The memories flood back to me now. It’s this protected room … the storm outside …

  “Let’s get out of here,” I say, breathing harder. “It’s airless.” I reach into my pocket. Four more Advil. I throw them into the back of my throat. Anything to dull the pain.

  Late afternoon and the storm is ripping into us. Every part of me is on alert. Will the damn roof crash in? Will the windows burst? The gym is the biggest open space, the place that looks most secure, and with the water leaking down from the corridors, probably our best bet for now. We go back there and drop onto our mats, staring out at the gray light filtering in through the windows.

  “I’ve never felt this cut off in my life,” Jillian says.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “Try being locked up.”

  Chapter 19

  JILLIAN

  I stare up at the basketball hoops. What if Aidan were here instead of River? A troubling feeling spreads over me. I push it out of my mind.

  Aidan sat behind me in math. It wasn’t destiny that put us together, it was the alphabet. Our last names both start with M.

  The real reason he started liking me, I think, was because once or twice he needed the answer on a test and after he slid his foot forward and nudged mine, I moved my paper to the side of my desk. It wasn’t like he was studying to be a brain surgeon. He had to keep his grades up to stay on the basketball team, so why not?

  “Thanks,” he whispered to me one day after class. “You saved my ass.” We started eating lunch together after that.

  “I cannot believe you’re going out with Aidan Michael,” Sari said, like he was a rock star. “He barely looks at anybody.”

  “We’re not going out. We’re just friends.”

  “I wish he was my friend.”

  “I’ll introduce you.”

  But Aidan wasn’t interested in Sari. One Friday as we were leaving school, he did ask me out.

  “Let me take you out for dinner,” he said. “It’s the least I can do after you saved me from failing.”

  “Everyone thinks we’re already going out,” I said, “so why disappoint them?” Even though Aidan was cute, really cute, I was one of the few girls who went to the games to watch basketball, not Aidan. That was probably why he started liking me.

  “I could tell you were head over heels in love with me,” he said, pushing against me playfully. I rolled my eyes.

  Instead of je
ans and my generic white T-shirt, I actually dressed for the date: black leggings, high-heeled sandals, and a black off-the-shoulder top. I can’t take credit for the outfit. Sari came over and picked it out.

  It didn’t feel like me. But going out on a date didn’t feel like me either.

  We went to a movie and then stopped for ice-cream cones. We ate them in the car with the air on, but it wasn’t cold enough to keep them from melting.

  “Shit,” Aidan said, as a blob of chocolate ice cream landed on his shirt. I tried to wipe it away with my napkin, basically rubbing the stain in. “You’re always taking care of me,” he said. “That’s what I first noticed about you.”

  “You mean the test stuff?”

  “Not everyone would do that,” he said. “If we got caught, both of us would have gotten detention or worse.”

  “It wasn’t a big deal. Anyway, I have more time to study than you do.”

  “I don’t care about studying,” he said.

  “What do you care about?”

  “Basketball.”

  “And?”

  He looked at me blankly. “And nothing. I want to play professionally. That’s the only thing I ever wanted to do with my life. What about you?”

  What did I care about? Nothing in my mind was as clear-cut. I liked working on the school paper. I liked writing articles. But a career? A direction? I had no burning ambitions. By the time you were a sophomore, you were supposed to have a clue. In just a few years, you had to major in something. Maybe I was destined to spend my life in loserdom, never knowing what kind of work would make me happy or which direction I would take.

  “What I care about most at this point in time is ice cream,” I said. “Chocolate, but also pistachio. And definitely in cones, sugar cones, not waffle.” We both laughed. “There is one other thing, seriously.”

  “What?”

  “Rainbow sprinkles.”

  “You should get your PhD in frozen desserts,” Aidan said.

  “Cold comfort,” I said.

  He drove me home and parked at the curb. The air was heavy with the syrupy scent of jasmine. We sat in the surround-sound silence, with only the steady chirp of crickets reminding us that we weren’t alone in the darkness. I tried to think of something to say, but the harder I tried, the blanker my brain became. Finally, as if it took him that long to get up the nerve, he leaned over to me, his face inches from mine.