in my eyes, my face. “You look a
little pale.”
I brushed my cheek with the tips of my fingers as if I could
feel the ash, push it away, hide it.
“I’m fine.”
He reached out, as if to test my cheek before snatching his
hand back. It was weird and intimate and I didn’t really know what to do. But
suddenly, standing there with a guy I barely knew and couldn’t
trust, I was okay . Because, really, how much weirder could the day get,
right?
“I’m sure everything will be cool with you hanging,” he
continued. “I mean, I know you aren’t one of those girls. The guys won’t mind having a normal chick hang out who
doesn’t count and stuff.”
Okay, not weirder, but how much more derogatory could it get
than that?
Of course, he probably thought that was the most reassuring
statement in the world. Pfft , guys. Actually,
maybe just, Pfft , Chris.
I took a deep breath and checked my skirt one more time.
“What are you waiting for?”
He gave me a look that might have been a billboard saying he
didn’t know which one of us should be annoyed and pushed the gate open. I liked
keeping him on his toes. Maybe that could be my sport.
I ducked under his arm before he could tell me how much I didn’t
count again and headed toward the revelry-noise. I’d been so worried about
going to a party, especially with people I didn’t really know, that I hadn’t
thought through the part about showing up with Mr. Soccer.
You know those scenes in movies when the whole party stops,
you hear a record scratch (as if anyone here is really that retro), and
everything morphs into slow motion. Well, that really happened. Okay, maybe not
the record part.
Everyone turned and looked at us standing just inside the
gate. If it was possible, the sun focused into a spotlight right on us. The
pause was long and dramatic.
“Hey guys. Car’s broke. Rachel picked me up walking here.”
Chris nodded to me and moved into the small crowd.
Just like that, everyone turned away. Well, the guys turned
away. The girls watched Mr. Beauty-in-Motion head toward the nearest soccer
ball. There was a plethora ( vocab word alert!) to
choose from. Yeah, a whole heck of a lot of balls.
“Rachel!” Amy’s voice carried from where she sat, her feet
dangling in the water, Luke swimming around in front of her. It said a lot
about them that I didn’t pause in joining them. That I knew I could head right
over even though they were hanging out together.
The party wasn’t actually that big. Ben had only invited his
close friends and a few guys from the soccer team that were not un- invitable . The girls were mostly girlfriends and long time
friends. The ones that had been hanging out with this group since they were
skinny nerds kicking a ball around in the road until the streetlights came on.
I circled the pool and kicked my flip-flops off to join Amy
where she splashed water in Luke’s direction.
“Hey guys.” I waved to Ben as I tested the water. “One last
day of Indian Summer, huh?”
Amy and Luke glanced at each other and did that secret
language thing where neither of them actually said anything out loud. I mean,
you couldn’t even learn that as a second language, so how was I supposed to
keep up?
“I’m going to go see what the guys are doing for lunch.”
Luke pulled himself out of the water. I tried to ignore the cologne commercial
he made with all that glistening going on since he was Amy’s.
I waited for it, knowing what was coming and wondering what
I would say. I hadn’t added the Won’t-Lie-To-Amy clause into the agreement with
Chris yet. I blame the
potential-meltdown-morning-followed-by-the-brain-stall-moment.
“So…picked him up on the side of the road?”
I couldn’t do it. I know I’d promised him, but I couldn’t
actually lie to Amy about this. Everyone else, yes. Amy, no.
I was already lying to her about enough things.
“Not exactly.” I glanced across the
yard to where Chris stood by the grill with a couple