October Breezes (3 page)

“Who is this?” I asked sharply, feeling myself blush.
And
why does this voice sound so...nice?

"Kelin, the guy you’re going out with tomorrow.” A slight pause filed the line. “Who did you think it was? Devin?”

Something bothered me. The way he said Devin's name seemed sarcastic, but not quite. “Sometimes he cals,” I finaly admitted. But it was a half-truth at best. Devin and I usualy caled each other every night. It was a ritual. Then again, that wasn’t so unusual between best friends.

“So why are you caling? Did something come up?” I spoke my wishful thoughts aloud as I leaned against the wal. I could hear my mother washing the dishes.

“No, nothing came up,” he said. “I just caled to talk. I wanted to hear your voice.”

I roled my eyes and wondered how many times
that
line had worked. “It’s the same as it was yesterday.” I looked at my feet, enjoying the carpet seeping between my toes.

“Skye, I’m not a bad guy; you’re not giving me a chance.”

Another pause. “I must be treading on toes here. You and Devin
are
going out, aren’t you? If you don’t want to go tomorrow--”

A flush crept into my cheeks. I could back out. This was my chance. But what if I
hadn't
given him a fair chance? Any other girl would have given anything to be with him. I chewed my lip before I finaly responded. “I want to go.”

“Then why do you seem so shocked I would cal?”

I twirled the phone cord around my fingers. “Why do you want to take me out? Why me?” I finaly blurted, imagining his face.

His blond hair shone beneath the fluorescent lighting. His letter jacket made him look so bulky. And that smile. He was so gorgeous, and he talked to...
me.

“You’re beautiful. Tyler and I were talking about how nice you look,” he said warmly.

The cal waiting beeped, teling me another cal was coming in. “Can you hang on a second?” I asked.

“Sure.”

I switched to the other cal. “Helo?”

“How in the hel do you do these adverbial clauses?” Devin demanded. “And why can I find them when you're sitting next to me but when I’m by myself I forget what they look like?”

I chuckled, imagining his frustrated expression. “Hang on a second, Devin.”

“Okay--I’m not going anywhere, at least not until I figure this out,” he sighed.

I switched back to Kelin. “Look, I’ve got to go. My mother has a cal,” I lied.

“I’l see you tomorrow.”

“‘Bye,” I said, ready to switch again. I slid down the wal until I reached the floor.

“Skye, I’m looking forward to tomorrow evening.”

His voice, warm and deep, sent butterflies tingling in my stomach. “Me, too,” I finaly said. “I’ve got to run.”

“‘Bye," Kelin said.

“‘Bye.” I switched lines quickly. “You sure do have a lot of problems in English.”

Devin laughed. “Yeah, wel, that’s why it’s a good thing my best friend is crazy enough to enjoy the subject.”

“Devin?” I said, brushing my long, dark hair.

“Yeah?” I imagined his expression. He'd be arching his eyebrows with a devious grin.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

“What?” he asked incredulously.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” I repeated, feeling my cheeks flush.
Why did I ask him?
"Never mind," I amended. "Stupid question."

Silence. Then Devin said, "I think you’re beautiful. But you should’ve known that. It’s not like I haven’t said so. What brought that up, anyway?”

I twirled a hair around my index finger. “Oh, I just wondered.”

“Yeah,” Devin said in a gravely voice. “Skye, you’re one of the prettiest girls in school. You always have been.”

I looked at my toenails, frowning as I realized they needed to be painted. I tried to imagine Kelin and Tyler talking about the way I looked but couldn’t. Devin was a different story. He’d often told me how pretty I was--not that I’d ever felt it. I’d always been the outcast, the girl tripping over her own huge feet.

And suddenly Kelin had noticed me.

“Skye?” Devin’s voice prompted me. “You there?”

“Yeah,” I said, even though mentaly I wasn’t. “Let’s talk about those clauses.”

Chapter Three

“You look...different,” Devin finaly said, leaning against the locker next to mine. He folded his arms across his chest in a characteristic Devin pose. As usual, he wore a softbal jersey with red sleeves and jeans.

“Does it look bad?” I asked, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. I glanced from the soft floral skirt flowing around my calves and accentuating my hips to the cream button-down sweater outlining my breasts. Granted, I rarely strayed from t-shirts and jeans, but I didn’t think I looked
that
bad. I'd curled my hair and fought the natural wave to have wisps framing my face.

“No,” he said, stroking his chin as though thinking. “Not bad. Just wel, softer, like a girl.”

I ducked my chin and leveled my gaze at him. “I
a m
a girl,” I snapped, setting my hands on my hips.

Devin nodded slowly as though a new thought had dawned on him and he arched his eyebrows. “Maybe that’s why your swimsuit looks so different than mine?”

“Funny.” I punched his arm playfuly.

"Careful. You're supposed to be a girl, remember?" Devin slid his hands back to his jeans pocket. “Seriously, why
are
you dressed like that?”

A group of guys passed, Kelin at their center. As Kelin saw me, and they stopped. “Hey, Skye,” he greeted me warmly as his gaze drifted over me, making me uncomfortable. “Nice outfit.”

His voice came out deep and husky, almost a growl.

I smoothed my sweater and wished for the second time that I hadn’t worn these clothes. What had possessed me?

“Hey, Kelin,” I managed.

Randy Smith, a linebacker, grinned and elbowed Kelin.

“Yeah, Skye-- you DO look great.”

Kelin elbowed him back and Randy shuffled off. Once his friends had departed, Kelin said, “I’l see you tonight, okay?”

Devin glowered, not even trying to conceal his disdain.

“Yeah, see you tonight,” I said. Avoiding Devin's demanding stare, I fished out my first-hour books.

As Kelin and his cluster of friends ambled down the hal, I felt Devin’s fury burning holes in me. “Skye," he began, his voice more even than I'd expected, "What's going on tonight?” Instead of answering, I pretended to keep digging for the books buried beneath the others. I could've just yanked them out, but the weight of the others made that a bad idea, as though if I did they would al come out.

Devin latched onto my arm, and I exasperatedly yanked.

True to form, the other books toppled. Devin scrabbled to hold them in. "Skye, what is going on?” Devin’s frown deepened.

“You’re going out with him, aren’t you?” A statement, not a question. The even tone he'd managed earlier was gone, replaced by an edge I'd seldom heard him use. I'd figured he would be mad.

Stil, wasn't he my best friend? What did he care? He snatched up my books and moved to shove them back, but I plucked them from his hands did it myself. He wasn't my boyfriend, and he wasn't my keeper, either. I don't know why I was so mad at that moment--I guess I was mad that he was mad. Friends were supposed to elbow you when good things happened and then move on. They were supposed to help you, not judge you.

“Yeah,” I finaly said, looking at the book in my hand. The embarrassment of my clothes had faded and the anger suddenly gave way to frustration. Could it haven been because o f Devin's disapproval? I shrugged it off. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a
stupid
date.” Tears pricked my eyes and suddenly I was aware that I hurt. Why did it matter so much what Devin thought?

“It’s not the fact you’re going on a date. It’s who you're going out with.” He touched my shoulders, and I fought with an odd desire to pul back. I didn't, but his hands felt leaden, and I felt strangely out of balance, like I would fal if he moved it. “He’s trouble, pure and simple.” His fingers squeezed softly.

“You’re supposed to be my best friend, not my boyfriend,”

I snapped, trying to mask the growing hurt. “Why don’t you be a friend and quit judging me?”

His disapproving frown gave way to open-mouth surprise.

Withdrawing his hands, he folded his arms back across his chest.

“I’ve never judged you, Skye, not once.” I felt his gaze resting upon me, demanding that I look at him. “You finaly believe everyone is like your father--ready to bail. You test everyone to see how safe they are. You’re testing me right here, right now, and you think you can’t lose because either I appear jealous or possessive. I’m neither." He shook his head.

“You’re angry,” I retorted, looking at my books. Geez, why was I such a baby when it came to anger, anyway? Why should it matter so much he was mad? He squeezed my arm reassuringly. “No," he lied, "I’m not angry. Just worried.” Four cheerleaders walked past, and from Becca's center position, she glared at me and whispered to her friends. Then they laughed together.

I laughed holowly. “Yeah, anyway, what’s the worst thing he can do?”

Devin flinched, and the color drained from his face. “Don’t ask.” He lifted my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes, surprising me not with anger, but something else, something deeper. “Right now you don’t have a clue who's safe to trust. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Standing together so closely, I felt something building between us, something which made my heart race and left me breathless.

Tears filed my eyes, blurring his face, and I thought of my father, the man who had once been the safest person I knew. I was his daughter, and he hadn’t wanted me. Why would anyone? I baled my fingers into fists and blinked back the tears. “Why should it matter if I get hurt? Why should you care?”

Devin’s shoulders tensed, and I could hear a slight intake of breath. He closed his eyes--as though he didn’t want to see what was right in front of him. Maybe it was me. Then he opened them and that blueness returned. “You try to push away the people who care. Yeah, it matters if you get hurt because I’m your best friend.”

He tried to pul me to him, but I refused to budge, knowing any strength would ebb from me with the tears. I wanted to be angry rather than hurt.

“Don’t,” I finaly said, tired and trembling. I didn’t have a clue how to keep the emotions in check.

Devin touched my cheek. “Skye, don’t do this. Hate your father if you want—if it makes things bearable. But don’t hate me--

or worse, don’t hate yourself.”

The first bel rang, and I jumped. “I’d better go.” I puled away.

Devin latched onto my wrist. “You’re not listening.” His voice softened, tapering to a gravely whisper.

“I heard,” I said, averting my gaze to watch five footbal players striding down the hal. One seemed familiar, and it took a minute before I realized who he was: Rick or Jimmy Sorenson, a sophomore like me. I'd gone to school with him since second grade. Although he kept pace with the others, he stood at the outer fringe, silent. Our gazes locked as he passed. Sorenson's red hair was long enough to cover the colar of the button-down shirt he wore. Although not as big as Kelin, he stood taler, and his understated power seemed more pronounced than Kelin' s because Sorenson's calm assurance suggested having a control Kelin lacked. Although he walked with the players, he also stood apart from them.

Devin's forefinger brushed my wrist. “Yeah, you heard, al right, but you aren’t listening and you know it.” I wanted to pul from his caress, but I couldn’t. “Promise me something, Skye?”

I focused on his fingers and realized my rapid heartbeat had slowed to match the steady rhythm of his touch. “Yeah, what?” I finaly asked.

“That you’l be careful tonight."

I roled my eyes and shook my head. “Yeah, I’l be careful tonight,” I sighed.

Devin released my wrist, worry lines stil furrowing his forehead. “Okay. I’l take that promise. Stil, I’d rather you made it for you instead of me.”

* * *

That night I must have changed clothes ten times, alternating between jeans and skirts, sweatshirts and blouses. I puled my long dark hair up and then tugged it loose. To say I was getting nowhere fast would have been an understatement. Al the while, my stomach lurched like I was speeding down the first roler coaster hil. Although more comfortable in jeans, I also felt plain, and Kelin deserved something more than plain.

Once I’d finaly decided on a knee-length denim skirt and a button-down cotton shirt, I finished getting ready. While curling my hair, I stared long and hard, wondering why Kelin found me beautiful. My long, skinny face appeared overwhelmed with huge green eyes. I wasn’t pretty, not realy. And yet Devin had said,

“You’re one of the most beautiful girls in school.”

Were they blind?

The doorbel interrupted my thoughts and I gasped, looking at the clock. Kelin was ten minutes early. I touched my hair, puling a few strands over my shoulders.

This is as good as it gets.

“Skye,” my mother caled. “Kelin is here.”

My heart sped up. I turned, and the word seemed to spin, distorted. Everything seemed fuzzy, warm, and dream-like, and then it shifted back. This didn’t seem possible; someone as popular as Kellin had noticed me, and waited for me in the entryway. Giving my reflection one last glance, I adjusted my belt, patted my hair, and smoothed my skirt.

I hurried downstairs, and, as I reached the floor, my breath caught as I peered into Kelin’s blue eyes. His letter jacket covered his navy sweater, and his PePe jeans hugged every nuance of male anatomy. I halted as a panicked voice exploded in my head.
What
are you doing? Why would a guy like that ask you out? You’re
a loser, Skye. Always have been.

Al those thoughts vanished as I saw a huge smile cross Kelin's face. “There you are.” He flashed that same smile at my mother. “I was just teling your mom about the movie we’re going to see.” As I stood beside him, his aftershave filed the air, and in the background a car commercial droned on.

My mother touched my back. “Sounds great, actualy.”

She smiled. “Perhaps Warren and I wil go tomorrow night.”