She nodded. “I don’t think for a second that you’re this big and scary guy. I bet you’re very sweet, considerate, and nice.”
“What makes you so sure?”
Shayne shrugged. “You’ve got a handsome smile. When I first saw you, I saw this tall, angry-looking guy, and then I saw you smile, and it was so genuine and contagious. I don’t think a person with such a smile can have only darkness in them.”
“If you believe in the devil, they say he was the most beautiful angel.”
Shayne’s laughter caused me to laugh, too. “Stop it.”
I was beginning to reply when I glanced over and spotted Nandy. She stared for a moment, taking in Shayne on my lap.
Instead of saying anything, Nandy walked on by.
Shayne returned to me. “Let me guess, you don’t dance, do you?”
“Nope.”
She stood and straightened her dress. “I’m going to catch this set from Erica. Maybe I’ll see you later.”
I continued to sit back and enjoy the music until Erica switched genres again and I felt like walking around. Going to the railing, I could see down below that Nandy was on the dance floor in Warhol’s arms. Chad was nowhere to be seen.
Shayne thought I was genuine from a smile, but it was Nandy who looked genuine with Warhol as they moved to the dance track. It was obvious as she moved that she had no inhibitions with Warhol and was being herself. There was no pressure to be this person that she wasn’t, and she looked at peace.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Chad was standing beside me, shouting over the music to be heard.
“Yeah,” I told him.
Chad offered a smile. “Having fun or what?”
“It’s not so bad.”
He cast his gaze down at his girlfriend. “This is going to be a fun summer.”
Nandy was dancing with Edi and Shayne now, having a good time with the biggest smile on her face. She was beautiful when she was happy.
“How’d it go with your mom?” I asked.
My question took him by surprise. “Tough as usual. I came through and sorta kidnapped Nandy.”
I thought of Nandy’s words from that morning. “Take care of her.”
Chad turned to me. “You don’t think I take care of my girlfriend?”
I faced him. “I didn’t say what I thought. I said take care of her.”
Chad smirked, moving a step closer. “No offense, but you just got here. You may have known her before, but I know her now, and I don’t need you telling me how to treat my girlfriend, okay?”
I had to hand it to him for defending himself, but I wasn’t impressed. I might have been new, but all things regarding Chad just didn’t do it for me. He watched TV while they were in bed, he made Nandy nervous, and his mother frightened her. No relationship was perfect, but he was missing the mark for me.
“I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree,” I said as I attempted to move past him.
Chad caught my arm. “Things would be a lot simpler around here if we all got along.”
“Play my position and all that too, huh?” I thought about it for a second. Nah, it just wasn’t my style to fall in line with the great crowd. Even back in Lindenwood, the boys never got me to do anything I didn’t want to do. If they were drinking or smoking, I never partook, even if it was the “simple” thing to do. “I’ll be seeing you, Chad.” I patted his arm and headed downstairs, no longer interested in the Hook. Had it been an hour yet?
On the first floor, I bumped into Travis, who had succeeded in getting Matt to dance with some girl in heels high enough that she’d surely fall and break her neck if she made one wrong move.
“Trice! Where ya going? The night is still young, my friend,” Travis said as he steered me away from the exit.
Chad had found his way to Nandy, and he was making her laugh.
“Take my advice.” Travis spoke in my ear. “Don’t fall for her. She’s the prettiest girl in town, I know, but she’s got Dipshit, and she’s content. Plus dating her means doing all this social shit, going to events, smiling, and kissing ass. It’s far better to fly under the radar.”
“I’m not entirely sure she’s my type,” I said.
Travis grinned. “What is your type? I see a blonde at two o’clock eyeing you like a four-course meal.” He gestured at some girl who was indeed giving me the eye.
It didn’t matter, I wasn’t interested. “All you, Trav.”
“I’ve got bad luck with blondes, they tend to be a little crazy.”
My expression deadpanned. “And you’re not?”
He didn’t deny it. “Let’s see.”
“I’m going home. I’ve seen enough.”
“Lame.”
I rolled my eyes. “Have a good night.”
“Wait!” Warhol came over and slapped me hard on the back. “You going home?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I bum a ride?”
I shrugged and led Warhol out of the club. He hopped shotgun in my car and fiddled with the radio, despite my briefly mentioning that I liked the hip-hop station it had been on. He changed it to some channel that played a mix of popular songs from many genres.
“Was it fun?” Warhol asked as we caught a light.
“Seeing Erica’s cousin was.”
Warhol bobbed his head and stuck one hand out the window, squeezing and opening his palm. “Don’t let them get to you.”
“Who?”
Warhol sat back, staring ahead. “The bastards, man. Don’t let them get you down. I’ve seen some newcomers come and be eaten alive by this place. You’re from the ’Wood—stick your chest out, don’t let these people get you.”
“They won’t.” If I stayed in town until I was eighteen, nothing was going to get me down. And I wasn’t about to conform to fit in, either. I still couldn’t give a fuck about Pacific Hills and its phoniness.
Warhol laughed as the light turned green. “The first thing people tell you when you get to Cross High is to stay away from Travis Catalano, but you know what? I think they’re all just scared, because he’s got it figured out. He’s beaten this system placed on us. Chad’s parents practically run this place, and they’re complete fascists.”
The poor kids. “Perhaps we’ll rebel, spark a little anarchy, and overthrow the system.”
Warhol caught my sarcasm and laughed as I pulled into the Smiths’ driveway and parked.
When I got out of the car, I spotted Kyle down the block, standing outside with a telescope and staring at the starry night sky. As I made my way over to him, Warhol joined me.
Kyle noticed me, and then Warhol. “Hey.”
I gazed at the sky and back to the boy in front of me. “Hey.”
He seemed guarded, but I didn’t blame him. From the few days that I’d been in Pacific Hills, it was evident Kyle was the resident loner.
“Didn’t see you at the Hook,” I said.
“Frogger doesn’t party,” Warhol spoke up.
“Kyle has a tongue,” I said.
Kyle shrugged. “Not really my scene, you know? I bet it was fun, though. Sometimes I go when they have good bands playing.”
I noticed he had a camera attached to the telescope. “What are you doing?”
Kyle touched the camera. “I like photography, and space.”
“Aren’t you on the newspaper?” Warhol asked.
Kyle blinked. “Yearbook.”
“Same thing,” Warhol mumbled.
This was more awkward than it needed to be. Looking at Warhol, I gestured to Kyle. “One way to break the system is to break social barriers. Football players can hang with the... Kyle.”
Warhol snorted, but he went over to Kyle’s telescope anyway. “How’s this work?”
They were such a contrast. Kyle, tall and lanky, and Warhol,
tall and burly from football. Warhol didn’t make any smart remarks as Kyle explained to him how to snap a photo.
Maybe this could work.
A call came through on my phone, and I glanced down at my screen. It was Nandy.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Where are you?” I could tell she was outside by the sound of cars driving by in the background.
“Home.”
“Come to the Crab Shack, we’re all grabbing a bite to eat.”
I was about to turn her down when I got an idea. Warhol and Kyle were looking my way. “Is Shayne there?”
I now had Kyle’s full attention as Nandy gave me my answer. “Uh, yeah.”
“We’ll be there.” I hung up just as she was beginning to question who I meant by “we.”
I pocketed my phone. “So, Kyle, you hungry?”
* * *
The Crab Shack was on the boardwalk, a few feet away from the Hook. Finding the place filled with people was no surprise.
As the boys and I entered the diner, we passed a few kids who mentioned a bonfire down at the beach. Warhol commented that people never slept in Pacific Hills during the summer; there was always something to do.
Nandy was sitting at a big booth toward the back of the diner with Shayne, Erica, Ashley, Chad, and a couple of Chad’s friends.
She waved at me, as if she were waiting on me.
A few booths over, I found Travis and Matt sitting back and going over the menu.
The dilemma before me reminded me of a poem I’d once read by Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken.”
When I took a step toward Travis’s table, Kyle put his hand on my shoulder, quickly recoiling when I faced him.
“The most popular girl in school is smiling at you, and she saved you a seat. You sure about this?” Kyle asked, seeming nervous for me.
This time I didn’t hesitate before taking the spot next to Travis.
He turned from Matt and faced me, lifting his chin in acknowledgment. He soon spotted Nandy and Chad. Chad was watching with what looked to be a mixture of shock and curiousness, while Nandy did her best to hide her smile and listen to whatever it was that Shayne was saying.
“What’s this?” Travis asked me.
If this was going to work, I was choosing my own friends.
I shrugged and sat back, prepared to skim the menu. “Trying.”
Warhol and Kyle joined our table, and we ordered food.
Travis elbowed me. “So, since you’re new to the area and in need of friends, we may be of service to you.”
That had catch written all over it. “And?”
“And we just need a tiny favor.” Travis sat up and turned so that his whole body was facing me. “There’s this girl, and we need you to take one for the team.”
He was clearly the girl-crazy one. “Why can’t you do it?”
“Because—”
“She hates him,” Matt cut in. “With good reason.”
Travis scowled. “Her name’s Tamra, and she’s got the best parents a kid could ask for. They own a medical marijuana facility, and sources say Tamra knows how to get her hands on the goods.”
“So if you get in nice with her, you get the goods,” Warhol added.
I wasn’t interested in Pacific Hills girls, nor was I interested in free drugs. Seeing the boys anxiously awaiting my response was humorous, though.
“Okay, describe her to me,” I said for the sake of hearing them out.
Warhol went first, holding his hands out in front of his chest, imitating a set of breasts. “She’s this redhead with a great set of—”
“She’s got a lazy eye,” Kyle cut in.
Warhol rolled his eyes. “She does not.”
“Yes, she does, how could you not notice?”
“I don’t know, the five-second rule.”
“Five-second rule?” Matt repeated.
“Yeah, never look a chick in the eye longer than five seconds, or else they’ll start thinking you like them or some deep shit,” Warhol explained.
Kyle snorted. “Dude, this isn’t food.”
They commenced arguing back and forth while we watched. I took in all the guys around me, knowing without a doubt that they were nothing like the people back home. They weren’t even the face of Pacific Hills, and maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t so bad.
I was still feeling everyone out, but I’d known from jump who I liked and who I didn’t particularly care for. With Travis and his friends, it was simple—they’d taken me into their group, despite my origin, and they stayed true to themselves around me. That I couldn’t knock.
Travis patted my shoulder and then squeezed gently. “Welcome to Pacific Hills, bro.”
16 | Nandy
When I came downstairs Friday morning, Tyson was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a large bowl of Fruity Pebbles. I took a moment to study his red T-shirt and crisp white shorts. He looked fresh, handsome, and whole. Maybe going to the Hook the previous evening had been what he needed.
Tyson caught me staring and lifted a brow.
I grinned. “Hey, Trice.”
His face blanked. “Either Trice or Tyson. Pick one.”
I managed to laugh as I sauntered over to the table. “So, what’s on the agenda?”
Tyson shrugged. “Don’t know yet.”
“Hmm, feel like getting out of here?”
“For?” That suspicious eyebrow lifted again.
“To hang out,” I said.
The previous evening I’d saved him a seat at the Crab Shack, and he’d opted for Travis and crew. In Pacific Hills, you just didn’t do that.
Tyson didn’t look convinced by my offer.
Of course, he was going to be skeptical.
I threaded my fingers together and rocked on my heels. “It’s early, the beach will be mostly empty.”
Tyson wasn’t swayed. “The beach?”
Briefly, I wondered if pouting would work on him.
Probably not.
“Oh come on.”
Tyson weighed his options and, in the end, gave in.
“We’re not swimming, are we?” Tyson ran his hand down the material of his red tee before lifting his head to hear my response.
Underneath my tank and denim shorts, I was suited up for a swim, just in case. Though I couldn’t picture Tyson in the water.
“I was thinking volleyball,” I confessed.
Tyson made a face but said nothing as he followed me out of the house.
As early as it was, there were a few people out and about. Parents going to work, Kyle preparing to go to Cross High to volunteer, and even Travis, getting ready for a morning run on his longboard. He tipped his head toward Tyson, and Tyson responded with the same gesture.
They were going to be friends, despite my warning.
In my car, Tyson heaved a sigh.
“What?” I wanted to know.
Tyson eyed my stereo but said nothing.
I hesitated, then set it on a moderate volume as I listened to Billie Eilish.
On our way out of the subdivision, we passed Jordy and Hector skateboarding. Jordy had on his elbow pads, something he and his friends dubbed lame.
Tyson noticed the boys, too. “Sometimes I wish I was a kid again. Things were so much simpler back then in a way.”
His words made me think of younger Tyson. The boy who was all mine. The boy who listened when I spoke. The boy who followed my lead and did whatever I told him to.
Life hadn’t been kind to the boy I knew who was now a man.
A broken man.
I still felt awful for how I’d treated him. Surely not all people from Lindenwood were as terrible as the nightly news and the papers depicted. We in Pacific Hills weren’t so nice as the pamphlets and magazines tried to flaunt
.
Tyson was different now, but so was I. It didn’t mean we couldn’t be as good of friends as we were before. Though it’d be easier if he’d just go with the flow and hang out with my friends instead of forging bonds with trouble.
The beach came into view, and Tyson shifted in his seat, releasing a breath.
He was much more handsome now that he’d grown, but he was noticeably guarded.
Once I found a space to park, I unbuckled my seat belt before reaching out and squeezing Tyson’s shoulder. “Ready?”
His gaze slid over my hand. “As I’m going to be.”
I took that as my cue to lead the way out of my car.
In my hand, my cell phone rang out my special ringtone for Chad.
I ignored it. Today was about bonding with Tyson, and any of the others would have to wait.
“Going to get that?” Tyson asked, nodding at my still-ringing cell. He cradled my volleyball in his hand, eyeing my phone curiously.
“Nah, I’ll call him back.”
“Oh, it’s the red—Chad.”
Him and that nickname.
“Did you have fun last night?” We reached the sand, where I was quick to slip out of my sandals and burrow my toes. The sand was a little hot against the soles of my feet, but I reveled in it. I loved the beach.
Tyson was waiting for my next move, seeming interested in neither joining me barefoot nor getting more comfortable. “It was straight. Erica’s cousin can really move.”
“Geordan’s been dancing his whole life. Most of us envy his swagger.” Geordan Yee was effortlessly cool and at one with himself. Along with his dance troupe, he made all the local girls swoon and still managed to be on time to work at his family’s restaurant, the Garden of Yee.
For a lot of girls in town, Geordan was their first crush.
Mine was...
“You seem to be making friends,” I blurted out.
“The point is to try, Nandy,” Tyson replied. “I like Travis, I can tell he’s real, and I need that in a friend.”
Travis was something all right.
A cesspool of broken hearts and dirty underwear.
“Tyson,” I sighed. “You gotta learn the ropes around here. Travis is bad news.”
A Love Hate Thing Page 14
