Reason 17: You’re a cute little cheater
This crap is hard.
I can come up with all the reasons I need to, but when I write them down they look so stupid.
That and my hand is so sore my handwriting looks like I just learned how to write ten seconds before I started this list.
I stare at the paper with scribble marks all over it and chuck it in the corner of the ass room. Yes, it’s become the corn chippy room again because all I did after droppin’ Hayles off is text the crap out of her and lay in bed, thinking about that tatt on her shoulder. I bet it’s healed enough now I can touch it. Run my fingers over it and press my lips against it.
You know… if she ever lets me.
I can’t concentrate on this right now. I have to get in that cheesy goobery mood, and I’m just not feelin’ it. I don’t want to write it all down because I want to talk to her. Plopping down on the bed, I whip out my phone and press the only contact I ever call in there.
After four rings I know she’s not pickin’ up. I leave a lame message, the ‘hey it’s me… uh, Brody, yeah… call me back’ one that makes me sound way more awkward than I’d like.
Because I’m bored—and just a bit obsessive—I grab my jacket and head out. Sunday afternoon and I got nothin’ better to do than drive past Hayley’s house. ‘Cause I just have to.
“Where you going?” Dad puts his glasses back on as he sits up on the couch, blinking his eyes as he tries to get the sleep out of them from his old man nap.
“Just out for a bit.” I grab the keys. “You okay if I take your car?” Dad’s truck is much cooler than Mom’s Corsica, but also Hayley won’t recognize it.
“Tell you what, you sit here and talk to the old man for two minutes, and you can take the Dodge.”
Sounds like a good deal to me. Except this is probably about the face surgery I gave Gabe on Friday. I sit down on the edge of the seat. I know Dad won’t beat me or anythin’, but still… defense mode is molded into my body.
“You want to tell me what happened with Gabe? Or should I just go with what he told me?”
I set my elbows on my knees. “He’s an ass.”
“If that’s the only reason you beat his mug, then it would’ve happened before now.”
This is why Dad’s cool. Why I didn’t completely crap myself when he asked me and Gabe if he could marry Mom. Why I call him Dad and not Mark. Because he gets it. He just knows everythin’ that goes down and doesn’t freak, but talks about it. Dude, Gabe was here to see him, because even though Dad hasn’t talked to him since he bailed on our family, he knew he would listen.
I run my hand over my buzzed head. “He said somethin’ that threw me over the edge. I don’t know what happened, but I couldn’t stop.”
“From what your Mom said, you did stop.”
I shrug. They’re right. I did stop once I saw what an idiot I was bein’. And how stupid it was for me to take out all the stuff I was dealin’ with on him. Even though the punk deserved it. Still, I punched him long and hard enough he needed stitches. I feel maybe ten percent bad about it.
“What did he say?”
No. Not going to tell him about Hayles. It sucks already that she thinks she’s the ‘FFF’ or whatever she called it, but havin’ Gabe say it, then tellin’ Dad about it… no. It’s not happening.
I don’t care what she or anyone else thinks. She’s not fat.
“Nothin’. Just pissed me off.”
Dad leans forward, looking at me over his glasses. “It was about a girl, wasn’t it?”
How in the hell?
“Huh?”
“Come on, son. I get it. Whenever someone says something about your mother, or cops a feel or something, I want to do the same thing to them. It’s built in our DNA. We protect the girls we love.”
I’m tryin’ real hard to ignore he just said people ‘cop a feel’ on my mom. Ugh.
“Yeah.”
He chuckles. “I won’t pry, but I should probably get some discipline in here somewhere. Or some fatherly advice. What’s your poison?”
See? Cool Dad. I stand up, shakin’ my head. “Just tell me how one girl can make me act like a psycho, then I’ll be on my way.”
“You know, I’m still tryin’ to figure that out.”
“Three of Hearts.” Hayles grabs my wrist, whipping it around so she can take a glance at the card tucked in my hand. “Fart. I thought I had that one.”
I chuckle and put the seven of spades back in the deck. “Okay, try again.” Taking another card from the middle, I give her a wink before she closes her eyes and starts humming.
We’ve been at this for an hour. She caught me drivin’ down her street and said her mom wasn’t home, so I could ‘come on in!’ Weird. Didn’t expect it, but hey, I took advantage of the rare opportunity.
She’s gotten twenty-four cards right, five of which were in a row, tellin’ me she has telepathic powers. I told her she’s full of crap ‘cause if she was, she wouldn’t need me to write a freakin’ list for her. She slapped my arm and got the next three out of five cards right.
And who am I to tell her she’s crazy when she keeps lucking out?
“Jack of diamonds.”
I glance at the card in my hand. “Ooh, close.”
“Hearts! I mean hearts! Jack of hearts!”
She’s right, damn it. I tuck the card back in the deck and say, “Nope, sorry.”
She gasps. “You little liar.”
I give her a big grin, crossing my arms. “Well, you’ll never know for sure, will you?”
“I do know for sure.” She gives me that cute evil smile, and that’s when it clicks. I whip my head around to the full length mirror sitting behind me. Darn girl’s been cheatin’ this whole time!
“Holy sh… crap.”
She busts up, rolling to the floor and giggling into the very white carpet in her room.
“Took you long enough to figure out,” she says between fits of laughter. I know I look like a damn idiot, but I’m laughin’ with her. Also tryin’ not to touch her, but I want to do that wrestling thing girls and guys do when they tease each other. I don’t want to piss her off though.
She sits back up, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Oh my gosh, that was great.”
Screw it. I’m goin’ in.
I grab the deck of cards and leap to her side of the room. She lets out a little yelp as I put my hand over her eyes. I’m not bein’ tough or anythin’. She could easily slip out from underneath me, but she doesn’t. She keeps laughing and asking ‘What the wallowing weasels are you doing?’
“Okay smartie pants,” I say grabbing a card and keeping it close to my chin even though my hand is still over her face. “What card am I holding?”
Her laughter subsides. She’s still smilin’, and so am I. Always around her.
“Um, six of clubs?”
“No way.”
I drop my hand from her eyes and flip the card around. Maybe the girl is telepathic.
“Ha!” She grabs the six of clubs from my fingers and shakes her head. “What are the freaking odds?” She smiles and playfully pushes my chest. “I think someone owes me an apology.”
“Oh no. You lucked out.” I tap her nose because while she’s lettin’ me, I’m going to touch her.
She smiles and shoves me against the wall, tucking herself under my arm.
Did that just happen? Everything inside me jumps with her this close, cuddling with me. Chocolate smell and soft body pressed against mine. And I wasn’t the one who did it. I was more or less a pillow she fluffed before collapsing on.
Hot damn!
“You still haven’t told me…” Her voice shakes, and she starts fumbling around with the necklace I’ve got on. “What does your tat—?”
“Hayley!” The front door slams and Hayles’ face loses all its color.
“Crap, crap, crap.” She leaps from my arms and starts shoving me towards the window. “Sorry, Brody, you have to go. Like, now.”
Nothing comes out my mouth. Millions of questions pile in my head but get clogged on their way out. I give her a quick hug before crawling through the open window, out onto the part of the roof underneath it. How I get down from here… yeah, haven’t figured it out yet.
“Hayley?”
Crap. That voice is much closer now. I hop onto the next level up’s ledge because I’m stupid and don’t think to get off the roof altogether. There’s no window or anythin’ from up here, so I flatten myself over where I just climbed up, hopin’ I won’t be here long.
“I’m in here, Mom.”
I shouldn’t listen. I should block it all out and give Hayles privacy, but I’m too afraid to loosen my death grip on the roof to cover my ears. Heights are not my thing, and I’m man enough to admit that.
“Guess what?!” Hayles’ mom’s voice isn’t what I expected. I saw her fru-fru ‘I’m too good for you’ stare from the window and instantly thought English and high-pitched. Not Cruella Devil on crack.
“What are you doing home?” Hayley’s voice is completely passive, nonchalant, like I wasn’t in her room ten seconds ago. She’s good.
“I couldn’t wait to tell you. I finally got you an appointment with Yvonne!”
Ah, I’m slippin’. I adjust so I’m not hangin’ off the edge.
“Um, who?”
“Don’t you ever listen to me?” Something creaks, and I slip some more. “The health specialist. She said she can get you down to a size two in a year! Isn’t that great news? I can finally introduce you to Daniel.”
Who the hell is Daniel?
“Yeah, that sounds great.”
If Hayles is goin’ for the sarcastic ‘great’, she nailed it.
“Don’t do that. You know how important this is to me.”
Silence. I slip again.
“Your appointment is next Monday. If you are eligible, you’ll be an official client and meet with Yvonne every Monday and Thursday. Try not to be a lost cause. This is our chance to make you… better.”
I hear Hayles’ bedroom door shut seconds before I lose my grip and fall flat on my back on the ledge outside her window.
Ouch.
“Oh my gosh, Brody! Are you okay?” She’s whispering, but her face is crazy frantic.
“Uh huh.”
“Sorry, I thought you’d hop down onto the shed.”
Yes. That would’ve been the smart thing to do.
“It’s okay.” I sit up and rub the back of my neck. I’ll be sore tomorrow.
“I’d invite you back in, but…”
I throw her a smile and a shrug. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you at school.”
“Okay.”
Eyeing my target, which is the shed about four feet down from where I’m at, I get ready to jump, but her voice stops me.
“You didn’t… you didn’t hear that did you?”
I’m about to tell her the truth. Her mom is dead wrong about whatever it is because Hayles doesn’t need to get ‘better.’ She’s already perfect. But Hayles’ face looks terrified. Worse than the nervous face the other day at the tatt parlor. Worse than when she told me about that punker, Jason. Worse than the look she gave me on Friday when I told her I wanted to be with her.
How can I tell her I overheard something she didn’t want me to? Something I had no right to know until she was ready to tell me? Something I’m still a little confused about?
I can’t. So I lie.
“Hear what?”