Kissing Kate (15 page)

“All I want to do is go home and take a nap.”

“Take a nap later. Come to Memorial Park and hang out with me and Finn.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Because it’ll be fun. Because it’s a nice day.”

The bell rang and the hall emptied out. “I don’t know,” I said, stopping outside the biology room.

“Meet us at Memorial, over by the swing set. Around three o’clock.”

“Maybe.”

Ms. Horowitz reached to close the door, and I ducked inside.

By the end of sixth period I was a zombie. My head throbbed if I moved too suddenly, and my eyes burned in a dry, gritty way as if my eyelids were coated with sand. On top of that I felt incredibly grubby, because at around 6:00 A.M. I’d gotten sucked into an old
Highway to Heaven
episode about a lost dog, and I’d run out of time to shower. As far as I was concerned, the whole day was a write-off, and all I wanted to do was go home and crash. Maybe watch a little TV. Hah.

I slumped in front my locker, trying to decide which books to bring home, when out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed long blond hair. My breath caught in my throat.

“Lissa,” Kate said.

I grabbed the book on top of the stack and shoved it into my backpack.

“Lissa, I’m sorry about last night. I was a huge jerk.”

“Yeah, you were.”

She gnawed on her thumbnail, but she didn’t turn away.

“Well, I’m sorry, too,” I said. I shut my locker. “But not for what you think.”

Her eyes flicked to the end of the hall, then back to me. “I know. Me, too. And I know we didn’t mean anything by it, but . . .” Her voice practically disappeared. “Come on. It’s just not normal.”

My heart lurched. “What’s not normal?”

She didn’t answer.

“
Me?
You think
I’m
not normal?” I tried to push past her, but she grabbed my arm.

“You know that’s not what I mean. God!” Her fingers tightened on my skin, and then she let go, wrapping her arms around her ribs.

“What? Can’t bear to touch me?”

“Stop it. Stop being this way.”

We stared at each other.

“I’m trying to apologize,” she said. Her voice trembled. “Can’t we stop obsessing about this and just be friends again? Please?”

I looked at her. Her hair, so different from Ariel’s, hung loose around her face, and her eyebrows were drawn together in an unhappy line. She wore silver earrings shaped like dolphins, the earrings I’d given her on her fifteenth birthday. Yearning swept over me, a huge rush of desire for things to go back to how they were.

I let go. So hard until I did it, and then so easy once it was done. “That would be good,” I said.

Kate smiled. She gave me a hug—a quick one, not too close—then stepped back, glancing at her watch. “Ah, shit. Lissa, I’ve got to run. I’ve got gymnastics practice, which normally I could skip, except—”

“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah. Well . . .”

“Really. It’s no big deal.”

“I’ll call you, all right?”

“Sure. Whatever.” I watched her walk down the hall. She stopped at the door, waved, then disappeared around the side of the building.

I closed my eyes. What had I just done? What happened to old-fashioned soul-searching, to my decision to stop pretending? Because I knew that Kate, when she asked if we could be friends, meant only on her terms.

It was just that it felt so good to talk to her, to be near her. To have her look at me and smile.

As for the rest—I didn’t want to think about it.

I decided to go to the park.

 

 

 

“Lissa!” Ariel called. She and Finn leaned against a huge oak. Next to them sat a six-pack of Rolling Rock.

“Want one?” Ariel said. She offered me a bottle, shielding her eyes from the sun.

I took it and dropped down beside them. “You have a bottle opener?”

“Twist off,” Finn said. He took my bottle and clamped it between his elbow and his side, using his good hand to twist off the cap. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” I said. I didn’t even know why I’d taken it. I wasn’t much of a drinker. But I tilted the bottle and gulped down several swallows.

Ariel stretched out her legs and put her feet in my lap. “Check out these babies,” she said, wiggling her shoes. “Aren’t they awesome? I got them at Abba-Dabba’s.”

They were clunky black and white saddle oxfords with thick black laces. “They’re nice,” I said. “They look . . . durable.”

“You bet. They’re called Fluevogs. They’re made by this little Polish guy off in Poland.”

“Go figure,” Finn said.

“Check out the soles,” she said.

I took another swig of beer, then lifted one of her shoes. On the bottom, carved into the tread, were nine tiny angels. “Huh. That’s cool.”

“Yep. I have angels on my soul. On my
soul,
get it? And when I walk in the snow, I’ll leave baby angel prints everywhere I go.”

Finn snorted. “When you walk in the snow, you call me, okay? This is Atlanta, remember?”

“Whatever.” She wiggled her foot again, lifting it for me to hold. “Read what’s written in the middle.”

I held her foot still. “‘One hundred percent Natural Hevea-Tree Latex.’ What’s natural Hevea-tree latex?”

“Not that part. The other part.”

I squinted. “‘Resists Alkali, Water, Acid, Fatigue, Satan.’” I laughed. “Your shoes resist Satan.”

“Why do you think I bought them?”

“Walk with God,” Finn said solemnly.

“Walk with God,” she repeated. She moved her feet out of my lap. “I got a new nose ring, too.” She leaned forward. Embedded above her right nostril was a dark red stone, maybe a garnet.

“She’s mad at her parents,” Finn said. “She’s rebelling. That’s why she has the beer—she stole it from her dad.”

“Well, you wear it well,” I said. “The nose ring, not the beer. Although you drink the beer well. Why are you rebelling?” I finished my beer, then shook my head, which was feeling muzzy. Finn handed me a second Rolling Rock, and I took a long swallow.

“Because they’re being assholes,” Ariel said. “They want me to be more like my sister.”

“Shannon?”

“Uh-huh. She’s a cheerleader now. Did I tell you? She puts Vaseline on her teeth so her lips won’t get stuck when she smiles.”

I laughed. “I hope Beth never does that.”

“Is she a cheerleader?” Ariel asked.

“She’s ten.”

“You never know. They start young, these rah-rah types.”

Above us, an airplane flew across the sky.

“I love the trails planes leave,” Ariel said. “They look so pretty, like wispy, delicate clouds.”

“They’re smoke,” Finn said. “Exhaust. Pollution.”

Ariel swatted him, then scooted down so that her head rested against his thigh. She closed her eyes and said, “I think I’ll be a skywriter when I grow up. I’ll only write love letters. Love letters in the sky.”

“I thought you were going to be a dowser,” Finn said.

“Yep. A dowser and a skywriter. What a lovely existence.”

Finn looked at me and swiveled his finger by his temple, stopping abruptly when Ariel opened her eyes to see why I was laughing. “Shh,” he said in a loud whisper. “We don’t want to upset her.”

We didn’t leave until it got dark, and Finn ended up driving me home. He’d had one beer to my three and, unlike me, he was operating on more than two hours of sleep. At least I assumed he was.

“What about my drunk?” I said. I tried again. “My
truck
?”

“I’ll follow behind in your truck,” Ariel said, “and then Finn can take me back to my car. How about that?”

“Are you safe to drive?”

She held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor. I’m fine.”

I stumbled, and Finn put his hand out to steady me.

“Come on,” he said, guiding me to his car.

“Wait. I’ve got to give my keys to Ariel.”

She dangled them in front of me. “Already did. Remember?”

I’m not sure what Finn and I talked about on the way home. Pizza, I think, and how good a cheese and pepperoni sounded about then. Mainly I watched Ariel from the rearview window, wincing as she lurched behind us in my truck.

“Looks like she’s having some trouble with the stick shift,” Finn said.

The truck jolted forward, narrowly missing the curb.

“Uh-huh,” I said.

We pulled into my driveway, and Finn cut the engine. He cleared his throat. “So, um, you want to go out for pizza some night?”

I turned to look at him. “Huh?”

“Pizza. Maybe we could go to Fellini’s on Saturday, if you want.” His hands were in his lap: his right hand covering his too-small left one. I thought of Kate’s strong hands, her nails filed short for gymnastics. When she was in junior high, she used to bite them.

“But if you don’t want to—”

“No,” I said. I banished Kate from my head. “Pizza sounds good. Oh, but I work that night.”

“Ariel said she’d cover for you.”

“She did?”

“Only if you want her to. I mean, it’s up to you.” A flush crept up his neck.

“Oh,” I said. I felt slow, like my brain wasn’t working the way it should. “Well, uh, sure.” I opened the door and got out.

“See you later,” he called when I was almost to the house.

I looked back. “Right. See you later.”

“SO,” I SAID THE NEXT DAY
at school.

“So,” Kate said.

Our eyes met briefly before we both looked away. We’d decided during history to hang out together this afternoon. Only now, standing by our lockers, neither of us knew how to act. It was like we had to get to know each other all over again.

Kate half-laughed and brushed her hand through her hair. “How’d you do on the quiz Mr. Neilson gave us?”

“Okay, I guess. How about you?”

“I bombed it, as usual. I totally forgot who Joseph Smith was.”

“The guy who founded Mormonism,” I said on reflex. I blushed and tried to think of something else to say.

From the end of the hall came loud male voices, and Kate’s eyes flicked toward the sound. Her face paled and she stepped closer to her locker, fiddling with the lock even though she’d already gotten her books.

“What?” I said

“Nothing.”

I glanced over my shoulder, and my chest tightened. “Just ignore him. He’s an asshole.”

They stopped behind us, Ben and Travis Wyrick. “Hi, Kate,” Ben said. He nodded at me. “Hi, Lissa. You two going to Travis’s this weekend? He’s getting a keg.”

“Going to be a good time,” Travis said.

Kate didn’t respond.

I crossed my arms over my chest and said, “I don’t think so.”

“Kate?” Ben said.

She turned around, but she kept her eyes on the floor. “I can’t. I’ve already got plans.”

“Oh,” he said. He shifted his weight. “Well, if you change your mind . . .”

“Come on, buddy,” Travis said, clapping Ben on the shoulder. “Let’s bounce.”

I waited until they were out of earshot, then shook my head. “God, talk about ego. He ditches you for Alice Spradling, then has the nerve to act like nothing happened. What a jerk.”

“Lissa—”

“What? I mean, if anything you were the one acting guilty, when you have
nothing
to feel guilty about. He’s a loser, Kate. Let it go.”

Kate fiddled with the strap of her backpack, then folded her arms over her waist and looked past me down the hall. “Let’s go to Smoothie King. I’m starving.”

Over strawberry smoothies, I told her about my upcoming date with Finn. I’m not sure why. And for some reason I acted more enthusiastic than I really was, describing our afternoon at the park and how he tried to be so casual when he suggested we go out for pizza. I thought Kate would be excited for me, but she put down her smoothie and gave me an odd smile.

“Finn O’Connor? You’re going out with Finn O’Connor?”

“Yep. Saturday night.”

“Huh.” She crumpled her straw wrapper into a ball. “What about his hand?”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, it’s just—” Again, that smile. She flicked the wrapper across the table and said, “That’s great, Lissa. That’s really great.”

I felt off balance, like no decision I made would be right.
You can’t have it both ways,
I wanted to tell her.
You can’t hate me for kissing you and then act all weird when I go out with someone else.

But if I said that, Kate would get up and leave. Or she’d close herself off like the other night on the phone.

“Kate, I don’t . . .” I spread my hands flat on the table. “It’s not like I
like
him or anything.”

“Who, Finn?”

I gave her a look.

“Sure you do,” she said. “He’s a great guy. You’ll have a wonderful time.”

The bell on the door tinkled, and Kate and I turned our heads. In came a woman wearing a brown coat, nothing special about her, but we both feigned interest as she ordered her smoothie, paid, and left. When she was gone, Kate gazed out the window and I stared at the table. I tried to think of something to talk about. Anything, just so she’d see we could still have fun together.

“Hey,” Kate said. She leaned forward over the table. “Did I tell you what happened in English today?”

“What?”

“Well, Mr. Crankshaw was going on and on about something, I don’t even know what, and Lissa—” she looked at me and lowered her voice “—I got the hiccups.”

For most people, getting the hiccups was no big deal, but for Kate it was an affliction. She couldn’t hold them back no matter how hard she tried, and each time she hiccuped it sounded as if a frog were trying to escape from her lungs.

I raised my eyebrows. “So what’d you do?”

“What do you mean, what did I do? I hiccuped. Mr. Crankshaw broke off right in the middle of his lecture and said, ‘Young lady, was that a
burp?
’”