“Evan…”
“One little sliver.” He traced the ragged seam down to my chin. “The majesty of the Canyon is that depth. All that beauty lay buried for years until the river cut it open. Then all was revealed.”
I felt tears sting my eyes and pressed my cheek into his hand. “Don’t,” I whispered.
Evan snuggled me closer. He didn’t force it. Years of feeling ugly couldn’t be erased with a few poetic similes, but now we had time. We had all the time in the world, and I knew someday I would believe him.
Evan walked me to the front door of my house like the gentleman he was. I was less than ladylike. I wanted to drag him inside and spend the night celebrating our future.
“Wait here.” I ran up to my room to grab his blue-and-black plaid flannel shirt, still in my possession. Back on the porch, I handed it over.
“My shirt. I forgot you had it.”
“It’s my shirt. You need to go home tonight and sleep in it. I made the mistake of washing it and now it doesn’t smell like you anymore.”
He turned the shirt over and over in his hand, laughing and shaking his head.
“And I want it back first thing in the morning. You read me?”
“Yeah I read you.” Evan pulled me in for a deep kiss that left me weak.
When he’d gone, leaving me with the taste of him on my lips and the feeling of safety and security wrapped around me, I went up to my room. I sat at the desk and finished the poem for Ms. P.
It turned out perfectly. It was going to be an A+. Thanks to Evan, I knew what love was. This time it wasn’t grayed out and faded like an old memory. It was fresh and new.
And I stupidly thought I would feel this way forever.
For once the breakfast table scraping didn’t bother me. My thoughts were too full of Josephine to let anything bother me.
Merle and Shane talked about prom. They both had managed to secure dates. One of the older jocks had a cousin he hooked up with Merle. Shane asked mousy Kristi Taylor to go with him. She was a shy little thing, desperate for attention. More desperate than Shane. I guessed going to prom together was more of an alliance than anything romantic, but it didn’t stop me from feeling sorry for her. Then again, maybe Shane was a different guy around other people. Maybe he only showed me his bad side.
It was a generous thought, but I was in a generous mood because of Jo. Jo Clark was going to prom with me. Then I was going to make love to her and after graduation, she was coming with me to the Grand Canyon. We were going home.
So much goodness in my life. I was almost afraid to think about it. This joy was a piece of blown glass—handling it too roughly meant it could shatter. I tried to concentrate on my food, but it was hard to eat when I couldn’t stop smiling.
“You’ll need to go to the department store and pick out tuxedos,” Norma was saying to my brothers. She turned to me. “And you, Evan? Are you attending the dance?”
“Yeah, I am.”
The whole table froze. Even the rustling behind Harris’s newspaper stopped. I could tell he was listening from behind the baseball scores and classifieds.
Shane shattered the silence with a barrage of questions. “You are? With who? That girl? With the scar?”
“Yes,” I said, meeting his gaze, daring him to say more. He shut up, but I saw malicious thoughts in his eyes as he pondered this new development. I turned to Norma. “Her name’s Jo and we’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now…”
“Jo-Jo-Joker,” Merle said and chuffed laughter.
My hand gripped the edge of the table. “Don’t call her that.”
Norma paid them no mind. “Is that so?” She spooned brown sugar over her oatmeal. Harris coughed behind his paper. “I haven’t heard of a Jo before. Is she new?”
“She’s the school slut,” Shane offered.
“Watch it,” I said, knocking over my empty juice glass. “Don’t fucking say that again.”
Shane’s mouth gaped and Garrett snickered. “You said a bad word,” My little brother’s smile beamed across the table. Apparently he forgot he was mad at me for being cold to him these last few weeks.
Shane looked at Norma for back-up but she only pursed her lips and murmured, “Language, please.”
I righted my juice glass. I’d banked too much happiness to let Shane get to me as badly as he usually did. “She’s my girlfriend so watch your smart mouth.”
Girlfriend was a balloon of joy rising up from chest. In a nanosecond I went from scowling at Shane to smiling like an idiot.
“She’s my girlfriend,” I said, taking the word out for another spin. Amazing the second time, too.
Shane snorted. “Some girlfriend. Has a scar up half her face.”
“So?” I snapped.
Shane curled a lip. “You couldn’t do better than the slut with the scarred-up face?” He elbowed Merle who was busy shoveling in his oatmeal and spilling glops down the front of his shirt.