Chapter Five

Yeah, yeah . . . I'm still on blogging break. I'll be back on the fourth.

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FIVE

            “Jameson!” Coach Carlson waves at me as I step out of the locker room next to the pool.

            “Hey.” I walk up to him and set down my bag. It feels like I’ll explode if I have to sit still. The tension from my day, from watching Sarah and Eric, Eric and Sarah . . . it’s just built up high.

            “You’re still up for this, right?” He holds a clipboard under his arm.

            “Captain?” I’m sure this is what he’s referring to.

            “It’s a lot of work,” he warns again.

            I’m still thrilled he picked me. “I know. I’m good.” I nod.

            “Great.” He walks away to start practice. “Make sure you get a junior for your co-captain, okay? I need someone to take your place next year.”

            I laugh. “No one can take my place, coach.”

            He laughs with me over his shoulder. “You’re probably right.”

            Finally, something I’m good at. I can’t wait to get in the water.

- - -

            I pull up the driveway after spending a rigorous couple of hours in the school pool to hear Mom and Dad arguing. The good mood from practice vanishes. My parents aren’t perfect, and it’s not that they never argue. It’s that they don’t argue often. I spin around at the front door, and walk through the backyard instead. I open the slider door to my room and drop my pack on the bedroom floor.

            Their voices die down and Dad walks out. I know its Dad who walks out because the next thing I hear is the kitchen faucet. When Mom and Dad argue, Mom spends the next few days scrubbing the entire house and slamming cupboard doors harder than necessary. I’m sure her cleaning frenzy will eventually make it to my room so I sit down and start picking up. Best to get some of it over with now.

            I’m in front of the TV and start putting stacks of DVDs and Blu-Ray’s back in their cases. As I sit, I can see into my bathroom. It’s a mess, too. Mom insisted that this skinny little sink on some sort of post would make my bathroom look bigger, but really, it just makes it so I have nowhere to put stuff.

            The problem is that cleaning my room won’t help me stop thinking about Sarah. She’s everywhere in here. Most of the movies that are out of their cases are ones we watched together. My computer desk has two chairs, because she’s here so often that there just needs to be two chairs by the computer. She helped me put most of the posters up in my room – all that weirdo music I listen to so much. I lean against my bed. How many hours have we sat on my bed together to do homework? Or watch a movie? Me wishing I had the guts to press our lips together.

            Well. This is it. I’m officially moping. Does that make me pathetic? I honestly don’t care.

            “Knock, knock.” Mom’s voice carries further than her soft knocks, like always.

            “Come on in.” My room looks like it hasn’t in a while. I can see the floor, the whole floor.

            “Wow.” Mom surveys the room as she steps inside. I forget how pretty my mom is because I see her everyday. She’ll never believe me, but my favorite way to see her is clean faced and in a ponytail.

            “I…” I start to say I heard you fighting, but that suddenly doesn’t seem right.

            “I heard you drive up.” She sits on my bed. “Your dad has been really distracted lately. It feels like something’s going on and I’m not sure what.” I don’t know that she really means to say this to me. She’s staring out my window into the backyard. “I’m also not sure how to ask him.”

            I open my mouth to speak, but have no idea what to say to that.

            Her body jerks, as if suddenly aware of my presence. “Sorry, Jameson. Should we order a pizza tonight?”

            Pizza weighs me down for like a day of swim practice, but I don’t say anything. “Sounds great, Mom.” I start to ask when Dad will be home, but I stop myself. What does that mean? That I didn’t want to ask? Is this fight different?

            She stands up and starts out of my room. “Your dad picked up an extra shift. He won’t be home ‘til late.”

            “Okay.” I do a good job of keeping my voice smooth, but my gut feels all twisted up inside.

            I’m not sure what to do with myself so I sit in the quiet in my room until I hear Mom answer the door for our pizza. So, now I just get to try to act normal, and pretend that nothing’s hanging in the air – nothing about Sarah and Eric, nothing to do with Mom and Dad. I take a deep breath and step out next to the kitchen.

            “Not Valentine’s Day, Mom.” I really can’t handle that movie right now.

            “I suppose you want me to watch some British gangster movie that drops the f-bomb every chance they get?” She cocks an eyebrow and hands me a plate with a slice of Hawaiian.

            “Mom, you’re too old to say f-bomb, and yeah, that’s what I’m in the mood for.” We stare at one another over the counter in the kitchen. “Valentine’s Day would be great,” I concede with a smile. I’m sure I can be a good guy and watch her girlie movie with her.

            Mom laughs. “How about we do Sherlock Holmes. It’s done by that same guy you like so much, right?”

            I nod. It’s a good compromise.

            We’re a third of the way into the movie, and I’ve managed to cram three pizza slices into my stomach. I’m slumped on the couch like the skinny teenage version of Homer Simpson when I hear a knock at the door.

            “I’ll get it.” Mom stands up. “I need another slice anyway.”

            I turn back to the movie. Rachel McAdams is about to come on. She’s hot. The TV has my full attention.

            “I’m Sky,” I hear behind me. “I’m here for math.”

            “I’m Megan,” Mom says, “and I’m here because I live here.” She laughs. “It’s nice to meet you.”

            Like a shot I’m off the couch and my heart jumps to triple time. In two leaping steps I can see her and Mom talking in the entry. I guess part of me figured she wouldn’t show. And part of me forgot, which seems insane.

            “Hey, Jay. Offer still on?” She smiles this relaxed smile like her gorgeous form is always popping in for math and Pepsi.

            “Uh . . .” Snap out of it idiot. “Yeah. We’re still on.”

            “Good. Matrices are kicking my butt.” She starts toward me.

            Mom’s eyes are wide as she stares at me. Then she mouths the word, wow.

            That pretty much covers Sky. Right now I just want to breathe. One small step at a time, and maybe I’ll be able to act something like normal. Probably right about the time she leaves.

            “Oh, I love this movie.” She smiles as she steps into the living room. “I’m totally interrupting, aren’t I?” Her gaze slides between Mom and I.

            “Nope.” Mom shoves the last few slices of pizza into the fridge. “I was just about to go sort out my closet.”

            “Okay.” Sky’s lips are pressed together and her body twists slightly from side to side, as if unsure as to what she should be doing. She glances between Mom and me several times.

            Mom lets the fridge close and heads for her room.

            “Everything okay?” Sky’s voice is quieter than a whisper.

            “Let me grab a couple of sodas and we can sit by the pool?” I offer in a normal voice. Okay, I’m doing better than I thought.

            “I’ll skip the soda, but the pool sounds nice.” Her deep brown eyes meet mine before she follows me out the back door.

            I pull out a chair for her at our table in the backyard.

            “Well, aren’t you a gentleman.” She gives me a half-smile as she sits.

            “I . . .” It’s just something I’ve always done.

            She sets her book down. “So, do you want to talk about it and get it out of the way? Or would you like for me to ignore it?”

            “What?” What’s she going to call me on now?

            “The mood in the room when I walked in.” She leans toward me. I breathe in. I can’t help it. She smells like vanilla.

            “Well, my day went about as expected.”

            “The girl.” She gives me a brief sympathetic frowny face.

            “Yeah, it’s all anyone could talk about today.” I really don’t want to re-live all that. “And then my parents were arguing when I got home.”

            “Hence the closet cleaning.” She has dimples under her cheekbones when she smiles. I didn’t notice them before. And even on her bronze skin, I can see light freckles across her nose and cheeks.

            “Yep.” I breathe in again.

            She leans back and angles her body toward me. “Okay, I’ll let you get away with one, but I’m calling you on the second.”

            “The second what?” My chest sinks. Please say she didn’t hear me.

            “The second time you breathed in next to me like that. Do I smell good?” One corner of her mouth pulls up in a smirk that wrinkles around her eyes.

            Honesty, right? “Very.”

            She glances at the table. It’s the first time I’ve seen anything like modesty or embarrassment from her. “Math?”

            “Matrices. No problem.” I’m glad the topic is changing, but at the same time, I want to be close to her and math doesn’t seem like the best way to do it. At least we’re sitting next to one another at the table.

            “Well, I’m glad it’s not a problem for one of us.”

            Sky and I start the first problem, sorting columns and rows for matrices. It’s hard to concentrate on math and not on her. The lights come on in the backyard as the sun goes down and the breeze carries with it a chill. She catches on fast as I walk her through problem after problem. I feel smart and useful, and hopefully she doesn’t think I’m too much of a nerd for knowing this stuff.

            “You’re a good tutor.” She slides her homework into her text.

            “Thanks.” I’m staring at her lips again.

            “Walk me home?” She stands up.

            I nearly knock my chair over trying to keep up with her.

            We make it to the front door when I hear Mom’s voice.

            “Nice to meet you, Sky. You’re welcome anytime.” Mom’s leaning out of her room at the end of the hall.

            “Thanks.” Sky waves as she and I step out the door.

            I ignore the wide eyes Mom gives me on our way out.

            “It was nice seeing you today.” What a lame thing to say, but I really can’t think of anything else.

            “You still are seeing me.” She bumps my leg with her hip.

            I realize, just now, how tall she is. She’s taller than Mom, taller than probably most girls I know. “Guess I am.” I stare at the sidewalk.  “You’re tall.”

            “You’re just now noticing?”

            “I . . .” Once again don’t know what to say.

            “My mom is native. My dad was a tall, skinny white guy.” She chuckles. “I’ve met him, spent a little time with him, but don’t know him.”

            “And you’re staying with his parents.” It seems bizarre. Or maybe just hard.

            “I’ve met them before, but we’re still getting used to each other.” Her voice is quiet and smooth. Maybe she’s resigned, or maybe she does glide through life the way it appears.

            “Oh.” I remember I held her hand last time we walked together. I reach for it again.

            “Still working toward a kiss?” She doesn’t laugh, but there’s laughter on the edges of her words.

            Honesty, honesty, honesty. “Yep.”

            “Good.”

            One simple word hits me like something warm and soft, slowly spreading through me. Without much conscious thought, I squeeze her hand.

            “If you’re still working toward that, maybe you could take me out Friday.” Her face is relaxed, but she isn’t looking at me.

            “Take you out?” Crap. Why did I have to repeat that? And why am I staring?

            “Yeah, Jay. Take me out.” Her voice oozes sarcasm as she glances my way. “It’s my birthday.”

            “Wow, no pressure.” I chuckle.

            “I’m turning nineteen.” She bumps my arm with her shoulder. She’s warm. I’m relieved at her age, I figured her for older.

            I bump her arm back, just to feel it again. “I’ll pick you up at like, 6:00?”

            “What should I wear?”

            How the hell do I answer that question?

            She laughs. “Tell you what. I’m going to wear something comfortable on my feet, probably a skirt, and I’ll bring a hoodie since it’s still cold in the evenings. I’ve only been here since January, so I want you to show me Vegas.”

            “That I can do.” I’m already running through my head where I want to take her. “Are you opposed to being out all night?”

            “Wow, Jay. That’s forward.”

            I’m sure I redden. Hopefully the darkness of my skin helps a bit. “What I meant was, I’m up for most of the night on the weekends and things don’t really slow down on the strip until like three or four.”

            “Okay.”

            We’re in her driveway now. We stop, but I don’t move away.

            “Are you still thinking you might get that kiss tonight?” She folds her arms.

            “Maybe.” Definitely.

            “You need to heal up from that girl first.” Her deep brown eyes watch mine carefully.

            I push the air out of my lungs. It feels impossible, even though Sky’s standing in front of me, making me feel warm, and like I really, really want to kiss her again.

            “It’ll happen. You just rub really hard, right here.” She laughs and puts both her hands on my chest. She rubs them up and down in short spurts and the warmth from her spreads. She’s becoming addictive. Fast.

            I rest my hands on hers and she stops. Her eyes have these dark ridges in them that I stare at and take in.

            She leans away from me, am I leaning in? “Smooth, but the answer is still no.” She breaks our eye contact and starts to move away.

            “I’d like a hug.” I let my head rest off to the side and I watch her reaction.

            “A hug?” She bites her bottom lip. “Actually, a hug would be nice but . . .” she puts a finger up between us. “Don’t try anything.”

            I step into her and wrap my arms around her before I chicken out. She already knows I like the way she smells, so I breathe in deeply. Her arms tighten around me and I really have zero motivation to move.

            “How you don’t have three girlfriends calling you at all hours is beyond me.” She steps away and walks to her front door. The loss of her warmth makes me break out in goose bumps.

            “How do you know I don’t?” I tease.

            “You don’t.”

            “Night, Sky.” And I realize how cool that sounds, like the end of a poem, or maybe the beginning. I’m a complete puff for thinking this. I know, I know, “puff,” just turn on BBC.

            Sky pauses in her doorway and something passes across her face. Sorrow? Thoughtfulness? Something. And it’s significant. The warmth of her spreads through my chest again.

            “Night, Jay.”