17 First Kisses Page 15

  Megan stops crying now, suddenly serious, like she’s just remembered the reason she’s here.

  “I know it was really crappy of me to break those rules we made about Luke.” She traces the designs on my comforter with her index finger. “I guess when I was alone with him, it was like I forgot all about the rules. I just wanted him so bad.”

  “I get it,” I say. “There were times I really wanted to kiss him too. But I didn’t. And I really liked him.” Like him.

  “I know.”

  “When you told me at lunch, you didn’t even seem sorry.”

  “I am sorry. I was just so nervous about telling you. I totally screwed it up.”

  “Yeah. You did,” I say, and Megan winces. “I’m really, really, really sorry, okay? Can’t we be friends again? Please?” She peeks at my face, and I guess what she sees makes her realize I’m going to forgive her because she smiles and adds, “Don’t forget Pact number one.”

  I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling too. “Oh. Ohhh. Well, if you’re invoking Pact number one, I guess I have to forgive you, don’t I?”

  In my heart, I know I forgive her. I do. But that doesn’t mean I would leave her alone in a room with my boyfriend. If I had one. Which I don’t. Thanks to her.

  Mama snaps another photo of me and adjusts her footing on the bark chips carpeting the back half of our yard. Click. Crunch. She’s taken senior pictures of most of my friends now, and yesterday she shyly asked if she could take mine. She squats in front of me, taking another test shot, playing with the angles and the lighting until she gets it just right. I lean against my pear tree—we thought it would be a good place to start—and smile the picture smile I’ve been practicing in the mirror all morning. Whenever I feel my smile getting stiff, I take a deep breath and let it out in a slow, gentle sigh, smiling as I do so because Megan says Oprah says it’s the secret to a natural looking smile.

  “You look beautiful, sweetie,” Mama says with the camera still in front of her face.

  “Thanks.” Click. That time I know my smile was natural.

  We speak in soft voices because that’s what the fruit grove makes you do. Ever since Timothy died, it feels like a church.

  “I can’t believe how much I missed,” she says.

  “What are you talking about?”

  I think I know, but since we don’t talk about stuff in my family, I must be wrong. She lets the camera hang against her chest by the neck strap. Without it between us, I can see her eyes are red with tears. Maybe I’m not wrong.

  “You’re all grown-up now. I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracks, and she clears her throat. “I should’ve been giving you mother-daughter advice and taking you shopping and . . .”

  She sinks to the ground. After everything that’s happened with my mom over the past few years, I could be upset. Or bitter. I’m not, though. Maybe I will be in a couple of years. Maybe I’ll look back and be really resentful and need therapy or something. But right now I’m so relieved and so happy to have her back, I don’t have room to feel anything else.

  “It’s okay.” I leave my spot by the tree and sit next to her, the pieces of pine bark digging shapes into my palms, and put my head on her shoulder. “You’re here for me now. That’s all that matters.”

  Mama puts her arm around me and rubs my back in between my shoulder blades like she used to when I was little and I couldn’t fall asleep.

  “I can’t change anything that happened. There are so many things I wish I could do over.” She shakes her head. “All I can do is try to make it up to you.”

  I’ve dreamed of her saying these words. I’ve imagined exactly what she would say to me and what I’d say back and every different possibility, each more perfect and wonderful than the last. I’ve focused on this moment in my mind, like if I wished for it hard enough, I could will it into existence. And now here it is, and I’m terrified.

  Because I want it to last and I need it to be permanent. I need her so freaking much that it hurts to breathe. And I don’t know how much I can hope for, but I’m already hoping for everything. And it will be that much worse if she disappears again.

  “That sounds good to me,” I say, scared that I’ll ruin everything if I let myself say more.

  We sit there like that for a long time, my head on her shoulder, her hand on my back, both of us watching the fall breeze ripple through our little grove that is four fruit trees strong. Timothy’s tree made it, even though he didn’t. It’s at least three feet tall now, and although we’ve never seen it flower, its leaves are waxy and green and alive. I guess they weren’t as connected as I thought.

  Sam grabs a Diet Dr Pepper from my fridge. Since we’ve practically grown up in each other’s houses, he doesn’t bother asking.

  “Sam!” Libby tears across the kitchen and tackle hugs him. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Hey, girl. I just got here.”

  She grabs for his drink. “Can I have a sip? Ewww. Never mind, it’s diet.”

  “Yeah. Because I gotta drink the diet if I want to keep this bod. Check out these guns.”

  He flexes his bicep, and she laces her fingers over the top of it so he can lift her off the floor.

  “Now me. Now me,” Libby says. She flexes her skinny arms. “Which way to the gun show?”

  Sam gives them a squeeze. “Your sister’s a beast.” He winks at me.

  After some gratuitous flexing by both parties, Sam and I head to the living room so I can help him with his AP Calc homework. My books and notes are already spread over most of the coffee table, and I talk him through a few problems.

  “Can you believe Megan and Luke have been dating a month now?” I ask.

  “They have?” Sam continues to scribble away at his piece of notebook paper.

  “Yeah. I was kind of hoping it wouldn’t last.”

  Sam gets a serious look on his face. “You know, the guy’s not the best boyfriend.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A couple of times when it was just guys hanging out, he said stuff about Megan. Like, he makes fun of the stupid stuff she does. And he called her dumb.”

  “Really?” I can’t help smiling a little.

  “Okay, I didn’t say that so you’d get excited. I said it so you’d realize maybe he isn’t the nicest guy.”

  “Well, maybe he would be a good boyfriend. He just needs the right girl. Luke’s smart. He needs a smart girl to match him.”

  Sam smacks his palm against his forehead. “Ugh. You’re ridiculous. I could tell you the guy never washes his socks, and you’d be all like, ‘Isn’t it sweet how he’s conserving water.’”

  “I would not. He does wash his socks, though, right?”

  “Ohmygosh.”

  “Okay. Okay. Sorry. We’ll talk about something else. Liiiiike . . . did Amanda Bell steal your V-card yet?”

  “Dude. There will be no talk of V-cards during homework time.”

  I poke him in the ribs. “Did she? Did she?”

  “No, she didn’t. And I—”

  All talk of V-cards really does screech to a halt, because my mom pokes her head into the room.

  “Sam, are you staying for dinner?” she asks.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “We’re having fajitas. I’ll set an extra place.” She bustles back to the kitchen.

  “She looks great,” Sam says.

  I grin at his compliment, more so than if it had been for me. “I know. These past few months have been amazing.”

  “That’s great.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Now, teach me how to do derivatives.”

  It’s these little things that keep happening. So small and seemingly insignificant that half the time I wonder if I’m making them up. But they happen so often I can’t help but worry. Sometimes Megan is cold right after Luke talks to me. And she eyes us suspiciously if we so much as bump shoulders. Megan and I officially made up about the whole Luke thing weeks ago, but now she’s acting like she’s the one who was wronged.<
br />
  It’s ridiculous. I’m the one sitting here at our lunch table waiting for the bell to ring so I can watch the guy I like waltz into the cafeteria and kiss someone else. Which happens right. About. Now. I avert my eyes during the Luke-Megan daily lunchtime smooch. He always stops by our table for a second before getting food. Today he flips a plastic chair around backward and plops down.

  “Hey, Claire, are you ready for that calc quiz today? Just so you know, I already took it first period and it sucks.”

  “I’ll be ready by two fifty.”

  “Ugh. It is just like Mr. Carnes to give us a quiz the day before Thanksgiving break. How’d you do on the test last week?”

  I smile. “I aced it.”

  “I knew it.” He elbows Megan. “This girl is a freaking genius.”

  I can’t help it. My smile gets bigger. Luke always has a compliment for me these days.

  Megan’s smile, on the other hand, is brittle. “Yeah. Claire’s always been the smart girl. Hey, Luke, do you like this shirt?” She arches her back so her chest pokes out more than usual. “I can’t decide . . .”

  Luke is not immune. Her boobs are the equivalent of a tractor beam. “Yeah. Are you kidding? It looks really hot on you.”

  “Aw.” Megan giggles and looks pointedly at me. “Luke says I’m the hottest girl in school, possibly the universe. Right, babe?”

  “Uh-huh. Hey, I gotta get my lunch. Claire, call me if you guys scrimmage over break.” He heads to the hot-lunch line.

  Megan frowns. “Actually, we’re going to be hanging out with B and Buck a lot over break, so he may not be able to make it.”

  Did she just glare at me or did I imagine that too?

  I check my watch when I get to the food court. Amberly and I are meeting up for Johnny Rockets and shopping. Since Britney and Megan are so busy with Buck and Luke, we’ve been spending a lot more time together. The mall nearest Pine Bluff is over half an hour away, and it’s still nothing like the one Sarah took me to in Atlanta, but at least it has an American Eagle.

  Now that I think about it, I realize it’s been months since I talked to Sarah. I haven’t even told her about Mama taking my senior picture and everything. My call goes through to her voice mail. “Hey, this is Sarah. I’m probably out with my Pi Phi Angels or cheering for my Dawgs, so leave a message!” There is laughter in the background and in her voice. I sigh. Life is easy when you’re Sarah. I leave a quick message telling her I have exciting news, then stuff my phone back in my purse because I see Amberly.

  “Hey, you hungry?” she asks.

  “Starving.”

  We grab lunch and find a table near a window.

  “Did your mom drop you off?” I ask.

  She nods.

  “Cool, well, I have Mama’s car, so I can drop you off at your house after so she doesn’t have to come back and pick you up.”

  “Can we swing by Coach Davis’s house on the way?” asks Amberly. She picks a piece of lint off her shirt while she says it, like it’s no big deal.

  I am on her like a bloodhound. “What? Why?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Chill out. He won’t even be there. I’m just dog sitting for him.”

  “Oh. How did that happen?”

  She shrugs. “I saw him at the park with his German shepherd, and CoCo liked me so much, and Mike needed someone to watch her while he was away for Thanksgiving . . .”

  “Wait. Mike? You call him by his first name now?”

  “Calling him Mr. Davis makes him sound so old. He’s only a few years older than us, you know.” Amberly is suddenly very interested in getting just the right amount of ketchup on her french fry. “So will you go with me or not?”

  I’m not fooled for a second. As calm as she’s pretending to be, the skin near her collarbone is turning red.

  “Okay, fine. We can go. But you can’t do anything creepy like roll around in his sheets or sniff his T-shirts.”

  “Shut up.” She throws a fry at me.

  “Seriously, though, is it weird having a crush on someone so old?”

  “I don’t think so,” she says. “I think that’s why I’m attracted to him. Because he could really take care of me. I’ve never had someone do that before.”

  I don’t know what to say, so we eat in silence for a while. The way Megan acted at lunch the other day pops into my head.

  “Hey, can I talk to you about something?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Do you think Megan’s been acting a little . . . weird about me and Luke?”

  I expect her to act all surprised and ask What do you mean?

  Instead, she says, “Yeah. I do.”

  “Oh. Really?”

  “Yeah. She gets jealous whenever he talks to you or anything. Plus, it sounds like he doesn’t treat her all that well.”

  “He doesn’t?” That sounds eerily similar to what Sam said, but I know Luke is a good guy.

  “Yeah, he was really sweet at first, but then it’s like he got bored or something.”

  “She never told me that.”

  “I think she never told you because she’s worried he might like you.” She stirs her milkshake with her straw. “And you know what else I think?”

  I shake my head.

  “I think Luke has a thing for you.”

  “Oh.” It isn’t my imagination. Amberly sees it too. Not that it matters, because he’s with Megan. I fight to maintain control of my facial features, but I must be failing, because she looks at me with a sad smile.

  “And you still have a thing for him too.”

  “But I haven’t done anything. And I wouldn’t. I mean, Megan is my best friend.”

  “I know,” says Amberly softly. “Just make sure you don’t forget that. Because if you were the one dating him and she was the one who couldn’t stop thinking about him, you’d want her to stay away, right?”

  I wince. “Yeah. Yeah, I would.” But Luke and I are supposed to be together, I want to say. So it’s different. Isn’t it?

  xoxo

  Tenth Grade

  I’m leaving the house for something other than school, soccer, or church for the first time in two months (it was supposed to be three, but my dad let me off early for good behavior). It’s okay. Two months of hard time is totally worth all the changes taking place since my drunken harangue. Dad promised to spend more time with Libby and me—he actually ventures down from his office twice a week for dinner. And he tries to ask us about school and stuff too. But even though he’s making an effort, I can tell he’s forcing himself. Without Mama, he’s just going through the motions of living, and it hurts to watch.

  Mama has been seeing a therapist. Getting her to that first appointment was damn near impossible, but now she goes twice a month, and she attends a support group with other women who are dealing with similar stuff.

  It’s weird because she seems happy to go to group, but she still seems tired and depressed around us. It’s like she’s divided people into two categories, Before Timothy and After Timothy, and unfortunately, everyone in my family falls into the BT category. But at least the days she spends out of bed outnumber the days in bed now. So that has to be a good thing. I was hoping to get my mom back, though, and instead of a ghost who stays in bed crying, she’s a zombie who watches soap opera after soap opera.

  I get why it’s so hard. Her life was amazing. I mean, sprinkled-with-fairy-dust perfect. She wasn’t equipped to deal with what happened. Timothy’s death made me realize the world can be a bad, dark, out-of-control place. Before something like that happens to you, it’s like you’re in this happy bubble. And with each good thing that happens and every year that passes, the bubble gets bigger and bigger. His death obliterated my happy bubble, and it must have been so much worse for my mom because her bubble had had time to grow so much bigger.

  Tonight, though, I’m putting family stuff aside and enjoying my freedom because Tanner and I have a date (his parents are out of town, so he’s making me dinner!)
, and I’m coming over a couple hours early because I have a surprise for him.

  I text Tanner while I put on my makeup.

  what are you doing?

  sittin around the house, u?

  Oh, good. He’s there.

  getting ready. can’t wait to see u!!

  me too

  When I’m ready, I call Megan because she got her license last month and I don’t turn sixteen until March. I’m quiet and distracted on the way over, barely able to give directions at the appropriate times. Megan slows as she approaches an intersection.

  “Is this where I turn?”

  “Yeah. Turn right.” I smooth my dress to keep it from getting those sitting-in-the-car wrinkles. “And thanks for driving me.”

  “No problem. My fee is that you have to tell me every last detail of the meal. I’m judging him by how he cooks.”

  “Sure.”

  I flip down the sun visor to make sure I don’t have mascara flecks on my cheeks.

  Megan gives me a funny look. “What’s with you? You look fine. Better than fine. You look totally hot. It’s just a date with Tanner—nothing new.”

  Oh, but you’re wrong. I take a deep breath. “How did you know you were ready to lose your virginity?”

  “OMG. Are you thinking about it? Because if you are, there’s something I’ve got to tell you.”

  “What?”

  I’m so glad I asked her after all. I thought she had told me everything already, but if she has insider information, I need it. I’ve been so freaked this week I even searched for tips on Google in a moment of extreme desperation.

  “It wasn’t as perfect as I made it out to be,” she says.

  My eyebrows rise practically into my hairline. “But you said it was the most amazingly romantic moment of your whole life.”

  “Yeah. That’s because I’m Megan McQueen, which means I have to have perfect sex on the first try. But really, parts of it hurt, and parts of it were pretty awkward. It was still romantic and wonderful, or it would have been if Chase hadn’t turned out to be such a d-bag, but don’t expect it to be perfect.”