Beau and Bett

by Kathryn Berla

  “You weren’t very good,” she said. “I expected a little more competition.”

  “Sorry to disappoint,” I muttered as I went around collecting the wickets and stakes as she instructed me to do, explaining that the gardener didn’t want them in the way when he mowed. “Maybe if I’d played it a thousand times before like you probably have.”

  “There’s nothing worse than a bad loser,” she said. “By the way, my dad should be back soon.”

  Couldn’t be soon enough for me.

  “Why aren’t you off hanging out with your friends today instead of following me around?” Booyah! Score for Beau.

  “How do you know what my plans are for today?” She gave me a sideways glance. “I might have plans for the afternoon.”

  “Yeah, well . . . should I put this stuff back in the shed?” I was sweating profusely by then, but she looked as cool as a snowball in an ice storm. In other words, really cold. I didn’t wait for an answer because I already knew where everything went. She followed right on my heels and waited for me outside the door like the last time I went in there. At least I knew our time together was almost at an end.

  “What school do you go to?” she asked when I came out. “Not mine, or I would have seen you before.”

  “You’re right about that. I don’t live in the Castlegate district.” Did she actually think I would be there working off a thousand dollar debt if I lived in a house zoned for Castlegate?

  “How do you know I go to CG?”

  “Because you live about five minutes away.”

  “How do you know I don’t go to St. Francis or some other private school?”

  “I took a wild guess.” We were walking through the orchard by then, on our way back to my truck. The flower beds that lined the granite pathway still amazed me. They were an actual visual explosion. A color riot. “And I know somebody who knows you. He goes to CG.”

  “Who is it? What’s his name?” she demanded.

  “Just somebody. I don’t know that he necessarily wants me saying his name.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know why not. Maybe he’s shy. Ever thought about that? Some people are shy.” I was tired of her always having the upper hand, and this was a mystery I could hold over her that hopefully would drive her nuts.

  “That’s ridiculous. Anyway, why were you talking about me to this person?”

  “We weren’t talking about you per se. I just mentioned that I was working here . . . temporarily.” I added that last word for emphasis. It was the only weapon I had to fight back against the powerlessness I felt in her presence.

  “Where do you go to school?” she asked.

  “Bridgegate.”

  “I don’t know anyone who goes there.”

  “No, I didn’t figure you would.” I latched the gate behind me and she started her crunch-crunch superfast walking across the gravel in her impossibly tall sandals.

  “Why not? Why shouldn’t I know someone who goes to Bridgegate?”

  “I just don’t see you as a person who would be hanging out in my town too often, that’s all.”

  She seemed to take that as a challenge. “You don’t know that for sure. I might be going there later today. In fact, I am. They have a Target there, don’t they?”

  “Yeah. If you know it so well, you’d know they did.”

  “And anyway . . . ” She ignored my comment. “I know you, and you go to Bridgegate, so now we’re even. We both know someone who goes to the other one’s school.”

  “Uh . . . wrong. I know two people who go to your school. You and the other person.”

  I was wading into the twins’ I’m-better-than-you territory. I wondered if hanging around two little brothers made me less mature than I was supposed to be at my age.

  We heard the sound of a car approaching from the long lane that led to the parking area.

  “Uh oh, Nana’s going to bust an artery if she sees the dishes are still in the sink,” Bettina said.

  She ducked into the garage and disappeared permanently. I figured that was the last I’d be seeing of her that day. I stood by my truck, waiting for Mr. Diaz.

  Mr. Diaz pulled up in a long, shiny, black Mercedes sedan. He stopped short of the garage when he saw me standing there. The window slid down and I walked over to the car.

  “I didn’t expect you for another hour,” he said. I could see Nana Diaz in the passenger seat. She was clutching a purse in her tight little hands. “You’re early.”

  “I got here at eight o’clock,” I said. “I just assumed. Nobody said anything about half day.”

  “Eight?” He raised his impressive eyebrows. “What’ve you been doing since eight?”

  Now Nana Diaz was interested as well, and she tilted her ear to make sure she wouldn’t miss my answer.

  “I’ve been doing . . . a lot of things. Your daughter—Bettina—” Idiot! Of course, he knows who his daughter is. Stop acting so guilty. “Bettina had some chores she wanted done so I cleaned the pool . . . and washed her car . . . really good.”

  “Ha! Bettina had some chores she wanted done. Is that so?” A big smile spread across his handsome face and he really did seem genuinely amused. But Nana Diaz did not.

  “She’d better have the kitchen cleaned up,” she said. “If you’re going to let her stay home on a Sunday and not do what decent people do, then she’d darn well better do what she’s s’posed to do.”

  I felt a strange pang of empathy for Bettina. I almost felt protective of her. Almost. I just wish I could have lied better to take some of the heat off her. Maybe I should’ve gone in the house and helped her clean up the kitchen. I thought about the first time I talked to Nana Diaz and she had assumed Bettina did something wrong without even hearing the story. And I thought about how Bettina said she took all the pictures of Maman and the car accident because no one would believe her otherwise. But then I thought about Khalil. And I thought about how Bettina only wanted to be believed so she could get a new car. And I thought about how they called her The Beast at Castlegate High. They must have their reasons for that, beyond the ones I’d seen today. Yup, all that went through my mind in the short space of time it took between what Nana Diaz said and what Mr. Diaz said next.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’m sure my daughter worked you hard today so just go home. Consider your workday fulfilled.”

  For which I was grateful. He pulled into the garage and the door slid shut behind him.

  I got in my truck and pulled out carefully, trying not to stir up too much dust that might get on the Range Rover. Then I went around to the front where the circular driveway led to the exit lane. I drove along thinking about what a strange day it had been. Avocado trees to my right. Avocado trees to my left. A blue cloudless sky above me and a free Sunday afternoon ahead of me. I wondered what Papa and Maman were up to. The twins. Angie’s wedding was coming up in about a month, and I knew Maman wanted it to be as special as she could make it, given our financial circumstances. Then just as I got to the street, ready to make a left, the Range Rover appeared in a cloud of dust right behind me and skidded to a stop.

  I looked in the rearview mirror and there was Bettina wearing her bumblebee sunglasses. I could see the straight tight line of her mouth.

  I made a left. She made a right.

  Thirteen

  Monday morning found me at the center of my social scene—my locker. Masie was there but she wasn’t smiling much and seemed to have a dark, puffy cloud hanging over her.

  “Hey, Beau,” she said with no enthusiasm. “How was your weekend?”

  “Interesting,” I answered. “Yours?”

  “Awful. Horrible. Lousy. Et cetera.”

  “That good, huh? What happened?”

  She took a moment to pull out her two remaining books and then slammed her locker shut, with a spin of the dial. Then she turned to face me, her emerald eyes lacking their usual polished gleam. �
��Ethan and I broke up,” she said morosely.

  “What? I didn’t even know you were together . . . I mean committed. Were you?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said at the exact moment Ethan walked by with Jolene, a girl I knew was a friend of his older sister, but they looked pretty chummy. Masie dropped her gaze and Ethan didn’t even look at her.

  “Since when?”

  “Since the dance, silly.” Masie laughed like that should have been obvious to me.

  “But that was just a little over a week ago.”

  Could people really fall in and out of love in just a week?

  “A week. A lifetime.” She sighed. “What difference does it make since we’re broken up?”

  Normally, I would’ve seen this as a great opportunity to go after the girl of my dreams on the rebound. But she seemed so . . . devastated. Could I compete with the memory of The Goose? Especially since he was still so visible.

  “Hey, I’m sorry about that. You were too good for him anyway,” I said.

  “You really think so, Beau? That’s what Krissy said too.”

  Krissy being her best friend.

  “Yeah, I really think so.”

  I hate when people asked you to affirm a compliment you’ve just given them. Like they’re trying to milk it for everything it’s worth. But this was Masie, so I let it go.

  “Well, I’ll catch you later,” I said. “Better get to class.”

  “Okay, see you at lunch maybe? And hey, did you drive today?”

  That was another big change that happened over the weekend. Maman’s car was fixed so I was back to biking it to school. With one catch. Khalil loved having me chauffeur him around and Maman appreciated the extra ninety minutes it freed up to finish her work at the Ansaris so she could go home earlier and work on sewing Angie’s wedding dress. So, for the next month, I would take the truck a few times a week to give her a break.

  “Not today,” I said. “But I’m driving tomorrow.”

  I thought just that fact was enough to elevate my status. I didn’t think about the natural progression of our conversation.

  “Cool. You wanna do something after school tomorrow?”

  And there it was.

  “I . . . uh. I have to pick up a friend from school tomorrow. He doesn’t have wheels and he’s kind of stuck, so I offered.”

  “We can go together,” she said.

  I noticed her nails were painted dark green. Her pinky finger had sparkling diamonds embedded into the nail somehow, although I was pretty sure they weren’t real diamonds.

  “He doesn’t go to school here. He goes to Castlegate.”

  “All the way to CG just to give someone a ride home? Fan . . . see!” She shook her hand like she was shaking something fancy off her fingertips.

  Now, why didn’t I just tell her I was helping my mom out, and Khalil’s parents were Maman’s employers? Most of the kids at Bridgegate were in financial circumstances similar to mine. Most of their parents worked at jobs like Papa’s and Maman’s. Most of my friends had after-school jobs, although I never did because I had to be there when the twins got home—that is, before Papa’s accident. Even so, now I had to be home to help Papa go to the bathroom if he needed to go, although he resorted to using the bottle when I was transporting Khalil.

  “Well, he’d do the same for me,” I said and realized that probably Khalil would, although we weren’t exactly friends.

  “Can I come with you? It’d be fun to see how the other half lives.” She laughed, giving me a glimpse of those sweet feline incisors. “And besides, I need the distraction,” she added with a voice that had suddenly transformed to morose.

  How could I refuse Masie?

  I didn’t.

  Fourteen

  Tuesday morning, Masie told me to wait for her at the truck after school. Unlike me, she had an extra period at the end of the day, so she needed a few minutes to pull off a successful cut.

  “It’s only PE,” she said. “Mrs. Blaylock takes roll when we walk into the locker room. Then when everyone’s changing, it’s easy to leave without being noticed.”

  Mission accomplished, we were on our way.

  “I think Ethan’s together with Jolene,” she announced as we pulled out of the parking lot.

  “Already?”

  I was amazed at the speed with which people fell in and out of love. Only a week ago, Ethan and Masie were officially together, and I had no idea until they were already broken up. Two days later, Ethan was in a new relationship—with an older woman, no less. What did Ethan have that I didn’t? It’s true he was college-bound but it was hard to see how that would cause a girl to overlook his annoying personality and gooselike looks.

  “That’s what everyone is saying.”

  Everyone didn’t talk about me, not that there would’ve been much to say. Would everyone start talking about me, now that Masie and I left school together? And if everyone did talk about us, what would they say? Was it possible we were already in love without me even realizing it? Would we be broken up by next week?

  “More important is how are you feeling?” I asked.

  In my opinion, she should’ve been feeling pretty great, finally being rid of The Goose and not having spent much time with him in the first place. But I knew that girls liked to be asked how they were feeling. At least Angie did.

  “Oh God, I’m up and down. Just when I think I’m over him, I remember something we did together and a whole new wave of grief comes over me and . . . ,” she trailed off.

  I wondered how much time had to go by before she ran out of things to remember that they did together. By my calculation, it couldn’t be too long, considering they’d probably only clocked in ten, maybe twenty total hours together. I could put up with her moping over Ethan for another week. Then I hoped, for both our sakes, it would be over.

  “Who’s this guy we’re picking up?” she asked. “How do you know him?”

  The moment of truth. No use denying it because Khalil sure wouldn’t.

  “My mom kind of works for his family,” I said. “We’ve gotten to know each other well.” And none of that was a lie.

  “Cool.”

  That was easy.

  Fifteen

  It took about thirty minutes to get to Castlegate, and school was always out by the time I got there. Khalil liked me to pull right up front, which took some time since all the parents and au pairs were there before me. But this was our routine and he knew how long he’d have to wait to make the grand exit he desired. There were still plenty of kids around to see him getting picked up by the “cool” older guy who probably gave off a whiff of danger to the Castlegate students accustomed to Beemers, Mercedes and Porsches. And that day he was getting a twofer—a hot girl besides. I knew Khalil would be over the moon about that.

  When he spotted us, his gentle, giant panda eyes opened wide and he bounded over to the truck. He was decked out in bright red—oversize T-shirt and basketball shorts. I knew Khalil didn’t play basketball, except the video game kind.

  “That’s him?” Masie asked.

  She scooted over to the center and fastened her seat belt. We were touching practically everywhere—arms, shoulders, thighs. Five seconds later, Khalil was in the truck, touching all those same places on Masie’s other side.

  “Khalil, this is my friend Masie,” I said, and probably for the first time in his life Khalil was practically speechless.

  “Hi,” he mumbled, looking straight ahead.

  I knew the feeling. He was awestruck by Masie’s sexiness. Who wouldn’t be? I put the truck in gear and pulled out.

  There was a lot of uncomfortable silence in the beginning because I wasn’t really comfortable around Masie, and Khalil sure as hell wasn’t. Masie herself was probably wondering why she’d cut class to sign up for this. Khalil and I didn’t usually have a lot to talk about without throwing Masie into the mix. Add in the fact we were all pressed up again
st each other like a bag of the red wiggler worms Papa used for composting. But once we cleared the school pickup area, it seemed like everything loosened up and we relaxed enough to be able to communicate on a basic sort of level.

  “Your school is nice,” Masie was the first to break the ice. “The grounds are a lot prettier than ours.”

  “Yeah, I guess it’s okay,” Khalil said, just as I slammed on my brakes to avoid hitting a group of girls who chose to cross right in front of me without even looking.

  “Do people around here think they’re invincible or something?” I muttered. “They almost got themselves killed.”

  I hoped this wasn’t going to be an opportunity for Khalil to lean out the window and holler out some inappropriate pickup line. But I was fairly confident that Masie’s presence would have a civilizing influence on him.

  The girls walked at a leisurely pace, chatting among themselves, completely oblivious to us. But then I saw someone I definitely didn’t want to see at that moment—Bettina. She stopped for a second, a little island in a moving river of girls, while the others kept going without her. She glared at me and I stared at her as the other girls moved around and away from her. Noticing she was being left behind, she whipped her head around and walked after them. It gave me a strange feeling, seeing her in that group of girls—the way they made room for her, not as The Beast they feared but more as an unwelcome stray. I didn’t know what my eyes were telling me. I just knew I didn’t like it.

  “Oh my God, it’s The Beast!” Khalil said in a way too loud voice, especially considering our windows were down. “Beau . . . it’s The Beast—the one I was telling you about. Have you started working at the Ranch yet? Have you seen her there?”

  “I know, I know,” I said, trying to hush him. “I know who she is, okay?”