Amy grabbed my arm and pulled me back toward her. Her eyes were wide. “Oh, God, Leon, I didn’t mean it like that. Of course you’re my friend. I just…I dunno. Sometimes when I try to talk to Cassie or Jennifer, it’s like they don’t even hear me. They just interrupt me and talk about their own problems. And you…” She shrugged. “Well, you did say to call you if I wanted to talk.”
She still hadn’t let go of my arm. “I meant it.”
“Good,” she said, rather dismissively.
I gave her a grin, but her explanation rang hollow. She only ever came to me when she needed someone to talk to or to eat her cigarettes. She said she’d go out with me, but then ditched me without calling and never rescheduled. She told me she didn’t want to date anyone, then showed up at the bowling alley with a guy. She’d been nice to me, but she didn’t think of me as a friend.
“I need to go, Amy,” I said, standing.
“Wait!” Amy got to her feet so fast she upset the ashtray onto the carpet. “Don’t go just yet,” she said, in a somewhat urgent tone. “I don’t want to sit around here alone. Would you keep me company until my mom gets back?”
Now, a couple of weeks earlier, I would have gladly kept her company. I would have been a good buddy and a good listener, and I would have gotten a good slap when I tried to kiss her. But things had changed. Melody existed.
I looked at my watch. “I dunno…”
Amy smiled at me and patted a spot next to her on the sofa. I obeyed. It was okay. It wasn’t like the attraction was mutual; she just wanted some company.
She habitually reached for her cigarettes, then looked at me and stopped. Suddenly, she giggled.
“Leon, can I ask you a question?”
“Okay.”
“Why did it take you so long to ask me out?”
“Huh?” The question blindsided me.
“You’ve been following me around like a puppy since like seventh grade. Why did it take you until now to ask me out?”
I couldn’t face her accusing smile, so I bent down and began picking up the butts from the ashtray. Apparently, the Thomsons were right. I wasn’t subtle. Amy had me pegged from day one.
I set the ashtray back on the table. It was time to say something. “I dunno, Amy. You’re kind of hard to approach.”
To my surprise, she laughed. “Me? Look who’s talking!”
That threw me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Amy stretched, and her top rode up, revealing her perfectly flat belly. She didn’t pull it back down, and I had a hard time not looking her in the navel. “It means, Leon, that most of the time you act—I dunno—like you’re not really there. You always have your nose in some book, you never talk to anyone, and you always hang out with the same couple of people. It’s like you don’t want to have any friends.”
“I have friends!” I almost bellowed.
Amy wasn’t impressed. “Who? Besides the twins and that Rob guy.”
“There’s Samantha, and Melody, and…” Who? Dan?
“See? When was the last time you tried to get to know anyone else?”
Amy was starting to irritate me. I got up and began to pace. “Amy, it’s not like people really want to get to know me, okay? It’s not like I’m Mr. Popular!”
She rolled her eyes. “Come off it. For some reason you got it in your head that no one likes you. Get over yourself already.”
“Thank you, Sigmund. I’m sure everyone’s just dying to hang out with me.”
Amy stood up and faced me. For the first time, I looked her right in the eyes. I’d always assumed they were blue, but they were actually kind of a dark gray. She smiled at me for a moment, then spoke to me almost in a whisper.
“Why wouldn’t people want to hang out with you?” She stepped closer to me. “Because you’re smart?” And still closer. “Because you can be funny?” She backed me into the wall. “Because you’re cute?” She lowered her eyes, looking a little embarrassed.
I should’ve complimented her back, but I had to get confirmation. “You really think I’m cute?”
She adjusted my collar and eyed me critically. “Well, you could use a haircut and some new clothes. But yeah, I think you’re pretty cute.” Her hands moved down my arms and gently took my fingers. “Maybe I’m not easy to talk to either. But I kind of wish you’d asked me out earlier. I might have said yes. I could use someone like you right now.”
Both of us were looking at the floor. The only sound was our breathing. We were close; I could feel the top fringes of Amy’s hair touching my head. And closer still.
What was going on? Amy had called me cute. She was holding my hands. With each breath, we moved a little closer. Our noses passed each other.
But we weren’t going to…
We were.
All the years of fantasy did not measure up to the real thing. Her lips were just as smooth and welcoming as I’d dreamed, her tongue just as probing. I could feel the sweat on her cheeks; I could taste the chalky residue of nicotine. How could this really be happening?
Something was pushing me back. The universe wouldn’t allow it. Leon Sanders should not be kissing Amy Green. I tried to hold on, but the mysterious force shoved me farther and farther away….
It was Amy, the flat of her hand on my chest.
“You have a girlfriend,” she said, half angrily, half mockingly. She punctuated each syllable with a jab to my ribs.
Girlfriend? Oh yeah, Melody. The secrets, the bonding, her shirt off in the barn. That’s right. Girlfriend.
“You mean Melody? She’s not my girlfriend.” Who said that? Ah, it was me.
Amy looked at me with raw disbelief.
“Seriously,” I lied. “I asked her to the dance, but it’s just a friend thing.”
Amy arched her thin eyebrow. “You’re telling me the truth?”
“Yeah.”
“Uh-huh. I think you should leave, Leon.”
This was more like it. Amy was realizing she shouldn’t have kissed me. I wandered toward the door.
She touched my shoulder as I had one hand on the knob. “But, Leon, after the dance, give me a call. I’d really like to see you again.”
We kissed again. And again. I tried to lead her back to the couch, but she held me at arm’s length.
“Mom will be back soon. But thanks for coming over. Maybe sometime you can take me for a ride in that heap of yours.” She blew me a kiss. I nearly broke my nose on the door before I remembered to open it before leaving.
I walked across Amy’s yard in a daze. Half of me wanted to scream at the heavens in joy, while the other half just wanted to scream at the heavens.
Amy kind of liked me! Amy had kissed me! Amy wanted to go out with me!
And I was going to have to pretend like this night didn’t happen.
Right?
By the time I got home, everyone was asleep. I played a lone answering machine message.
“Leon? It’s Melody. I was calling to see if you wanted to get some Taco Barn food after the game, but I guess you went out. Anyway, I got my shoes and purse for the dance today. I’m really excited. Can’t wait to see you Monday.”
Shit.
21
DEVIL’S ADVOCATE
Rob talked nonstop about baseball as I drove him to school that Monday. He’d been talking to me about the St. Louis Cardinals for over ten years. It didn’t bother him that I’d never watched a game.
I tuned him out, grunting occasionally so he’d think I was listening. I had bigger things on my mind.
I had kissed Amy. Actually, Amy had kissed me! And called me cute and asked me out. It was exactly how I’d always pictured it (except without the baby oil and silk sheets).
I was scum. I already had a girlfriend! Someone who’d told me her secrets. A girl who convinced me to ride a horse. A girl who let me take her top off and implied that we’d do more someday. What was I doing kissing someone else?
I should have known better than to go to Amy
’s house. In retrospect, I realized I’d been secretly hoping that something would happen.
Rob was pounding the dashboard, ranting about something that had gone on at the Cards/Cubs game the night before. Hopefully he’d take my frustrated growling as a sign that I agreed with him.
If only I’d asked Amy out the year before. Maybe she would have said yes. Hell, I could be taking her to the dance instead of…
I was suddenly horrified by the thought. I was happy with Melody! Happy! Do you hear me? Happy!
I turned into the MZH parking lot at fifty miles per hour, banged over a curb, nearly took out Pete’s shack, and fishtailed into my space. Rob stared at me with a rare look of genuine anger.
“Sorry,” I said with a shrug. “The freakin’ Cubs. Always get me pissed.”
“I’m taking the bus home today.”
Guilt bred paranoia. When I ran into Dan that morning, he leered at me and, pointing an accusing finger, loudly whispered, “You did something bad!”
Not stopping to remember that Dan was always saying things like that, I grabbed him by the arm and hurled him into the men’s room.
“How did you know?” I demanded.
Dan’s temporary look of shock turned to one of glee. “You really did do something bad? Tell me, tell me!”
I had to get a hold of myself. I had no idea what I was going to do about Amy, but if I didn’t pull it together, I was going to blurt the whole thing out. I needed to talk to someone.
Dan was rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Did you burn down a church? Beat up a nun? Rebroadcast accounts of this game…”
I couldn’t talk to Rob or the twins about my dilemma, and definitely not Samantha. (There were no secrets when two girls were involved.) I couldn’t even tell my parents. I needed someone I didn’t know very well who wouldn’t give me any high-toned lectures on morality and goodness….
“Did you not wash your hands before returning to work?” Dan continued to guess.
I braced myself. It was worth a shot.
“Dan, could I ask you for some advice? Some serious advice.”
Dan stopped twitching and wringing his hands. “Um, okay.”
“You can’t tell anyone what I’m going to tell you. You have to promise me.”
I expected a nod and maybe a handshake, but Dan clasped his hand to his chest, whispered something like “Chthulhu fh’tagn!” and spit into a urinal.
“That’s an unbreakable oath,” he said in response to my baffled expression.
“Whatever. Here’s the deal, Dan. You know that Melody Hennon and I are kind of dating, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well…last night, Amy Green and I…kissed.” Was I asking Dan for advice or bragging? “And I told her Melody was just my friend. She wants me to call her.”
Dan looked confused for a moment, then bared his crooked fangs. “Ah, the sins of the flesh are the most subtle. We try to walk the straight and narrow path, but when we spy lady fair, with golden brow, and quaking lips, and big ol’ knockers…Well, go on.”
“So I should just tell Amy no, right? Just forget that ever happened. Right?”
Dan cleaned his ear with his pinkie. “Well, I don’t have a lot of experience with the fairer sex, believe it or not. But looks to me like you have two choices. You can cheat on Melody and forever hate yourself for doing that to her. Or you can pretend last night didn’t happen—I’m sure Amy’s not exactly shouting it from the rooftops—and hate yourself for giving up such a hot little succubus.”
“A what?”
“A hot chick.”
Despite the overwhelming evidence that Dan was schizophrenic, he had pretty much cut to the quick of things.
“I guess I have to do the right thing.”
“You’re asking me?”
“Thanks, Dan.” I turned to go.
“Leon? One more thing. Don’t tell Melody what you did. That’s playing with fire, man.”
Melody stood by her locker, carefully organizing her books. I slouched in a doorway, sizing her up like a mugger.
Now that she wore a wig, she looked perfectly normal from behind. Slim figure, nice legs, pert little butt. How could I have cheated on her? We had a good thing. But as I thought that, Melody turned and faced me.
Even from down the hall, you could see how mutilated she was. She was the kind of girl who turned heads, the sort of person people talked about when she was out of earshot.
That poor thing. I wonder what happened to her. How does she live like that?
And I was her boyfriend. She made me happy. But maybe, just maybe, I was settling. Melody was the first girl who had ever really noticed me. But now Amy liked me too, and I was just going to give that up. I felt like I was cheating myself.
Melody turned and saw me stalking her. Her lips spread into a smile, and I couldn’t help smiling back. Two seconds later, I was standing next to her.
“I missed you this weekend, Leon.”
“I’m sorry. I had to, um, do some things.”
She took my hand. I touched her delicate wrist.
“It’s okay, Leon. You don’t have to report in.”
Great. If she had been mean and sniping, I could have forgiven myself for kissing Amy. But of course, Melody was perfectly understanding. She had no idea that the day before, I’d denied dating her.
We stood there, talking until long after the bell rang. As Mr. Jackson fumbled for his tardy slips, I thought about my girlfriend. Smart, funny, and with a nice rear end.
Amy smiled at me as I passed her table, and I winked back. Melody or not, it was nice to be noticed.
22
SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR ME
In speech class once, Dan had given a somewhat incoherent report on the history of the straitjacket. He mentioned that American restraining jackets buckled behind the back, while British ones latched behind the neck.
I recalled this as I attempted to assemble my tuxedo. Never had I been so itchy, uncomfortable, and ridiculous-looking. A canvas straitjacket would have felt less restrictive than this thing.
I looked in the mirror. The rented clothes did little to mask the fact that I was not a tux type of guy. I looked like a contestant in one of those reality shows where they set up nerds with sexy women for comedic results.
Dad knocked on the bathroom door, then came in.
“Leon, you look great.”
“I look stupid.”
He sat down on the toilet lid. “Yeah, you do. I think you have to be Sean Connery to look good in one of those things.”
Dad was nothing if not truthful.
“Listen, Son, there’s something we need to talk about.”
I knew what he was going to say. I braced myself for the awkward speech.
“I know you and Melody have been seeing each other for a while, and I know this dance will be special for both of you.”
I recombed my hair, being sure not to make eye contact.
“And, well, I know you’ll be out late, and I know, um, well, you know…” I hadn’t seen him this uncomfortable since he’d gone for his colonoscopy.
“Dad, I promise we won’t—”
He cut me off. “Son, I’m not saying you should or you shouldn’t. But, um…” He suddenly froze, unable to continue. “Just take these!” He thrust a package at me and hurried out of the bathroom.
I removed the small box from the drugstore bag. A month earlier, I never would have needed protection. And now, that night, with Melody…would I actually have a chance to use them? Maybe that night would be the night.
Did I really want Melody to be the first girl? I might not get another chance for years. Then again, after making out with Amy, maybe I was selling myself short. We’d smiled at each other during chemistry all week but never talked. And that was what I needed to keep doing. No more talking to Amy. No more thoughts about those kisses and how she wanted to go for a ride. I had to forget about her—which would be impossible to do without a head injury or
electroshock equipment.
Mom insisted on taking several dozen pictures of me. To her, it was like I was on my way to my coronation as pope rather than a high school dance.
“Leon, are you sure you can’t stop by here with Melody? I’d really like to get your picture together.” I thought Mom had always regretted not having a daughter, someone she could dress up in lace and ribbons. The best she could hope for was to see my date all dolled up.
“Mom, I told you, she lives way out by Cottleville. We’ll be late if we have to drive back here.” Actually, I just wanted to spare Melody the inspection by my parents.
“Well, be sure to get your portrait taken.” She had given me the money, so there was no way out of it.
Dad slipped me a couple of bucks. I had breath mints in one pocket and a three-pack of condoms in the other. I was off.
As I drove to Melody’s, ninety percent of my thoughts centered on how to convince her to go for a long drive in the country. But that nagging ten percent kept reminding me that Amy had told me to call her.
Now, Melody wasn’t one of those unattractive girls who became beautiful the second they put on their fancy prom dresses. But when she stepped into her living room, I was shocked at how nice she looked.
Her dress was green and bared her shoulders. She was wearing high heels and was now a bit taller than me. She carried a matching purse and was wearing a necklace and a bracelet (the first jewelry I’d ever seen on her). Her hair was up. It occurred to me later that you couldn’t style a wig; she must have bought another one for this night. She was wearing makeup. Her scars were just as obvious, but it did bring out her eyes and lips.
“You look great, Melody.” She did. I’d never seen her so pretty. Her parents stood beaming at me, and I had to make a special effort to not look her in the chest.
I strapped a corsage to her wrist and suffered while her dad filmed us. He seemed proud of his daughter, but there was a chill in the air. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing as my dad.
It was awkward to hold the car door for your date when it opened only from the inside, but somehow I managed. Melody smiled. She pulled down the visor to touch up her makeup. When she realized the mirror was gone, she used her compact.
Playing With Matches Page 12
