Skater Boy (16 page)

>Help. Lookout Point. Scared. Plz come.

But will he be able to get here in time? He lives across town and we're almost to the top of the hill.

I text one more line.

>Hurry!

No answer. He probably walked away from his phone. Or went to bed. Great. I'm so screwed.

We reach the top of the hill and Brent puts the car into park. I look around, hoping some other lovelorn teens will be up here to provide assistance. But the place is deserted.

Brent does the not-so-subtle yawn and stretch and put his arm around my shoulder thing. I shrug away.

“What's your problem?” he asks grouchily.

“What's yours?” I retort. “I told you I wanted to go home.”

“What's that?” His eyes fall on the phone in my lap. “Who are you calling?”

“No one.”

“Good. Then you won't mind if I take that,” he says, grabbing the phone and throwing it out the window.

“Hey! What did you do that for?”

“You know, Dawn,” he says, his words slurring a bit. “You really need to lighten up.”

“Lighten up? You just threw my freaking cell phone out the window!” I cry. “I'm going to go get it.”

As my fingers fumble for the door handle, he reaches over and clicks the locking mechanism on his side, effectively thwarting my escape plan.

“Childproof locks.” He laughs. “Gotta love it.”

OMG! OMG! Now my heart is slamming against my ribcage with the rapid tempo of hardcore techno. I'm trapped. I have no phone. What if he tries to ...?

If only my parents could see me now. They'd be so sorry they made me go out with this so-called nice boy. A good family doesn't mean crap when you're drunk in a car on Lookout Point.

Brent reaches over and traces my cheek with a finger. I swallow hard, fear and adrenaline coursing through my veins. I don't know what to do. I stare straight ahead. I can see my house from here. If I kicked him where it counts, would I be able to climb over to his side of the car and unlock the door? Then I could run down the hill and make it home. But the cliff is really steep and it's pitch dark up here. I'd probably fall and break an ankle. Though that might still be better than the alternative….

Brent leans in for the kill. Or in this case, the kiss. His alcoholic onion breath nauseates me as he smooshes his lips against mine. I get none of the butterflies that flutter through my insides when Sean kisses me. Instead I get angry wasps stinging my stomach with panic.

“Stop it!” I cry. But my open mouth only gives him the opportunity to stick his tongue down my throat. His hands grip my forearms so I can't pull away.

This is bad. Really, really bad. I knew Brent was a slimeball, but I had no idea he'd go this far.

Please, Sean. Hurry!

I know in my heart that even if Sean did get my message, he won't make it in time. He's too far away. On the other side of town. I'm on my own, and I have to do something.

I force myself to relax under Brent's grip, then lean against the passenger-side door, allowing him to crawl on top of me. Then, when he's in position, I lift up my knee and slam it into his groin as hard as I can. At the same time, I bite down on his tongue.

“Ye-ow!” he cries, in an almost inhuman sound of pain. He tumbles backwards, clutching his privates with one hand and his tongue with the other. I think I actually made him bleed. “You bitch!”

But I don't wait to hear any more of his terms of endearment. I push past him, reach for the locking mechanism, and fall out of the car, stumbling as my foot catches on the door and slamming into the ground. A stab of pain shoots through me as my wrist breaks my fall onto the concrete.

Suddenly headlights cut through the fog. I jump to my feet, waving at them with my unhurt hand. Desperately hoping they're friend and not foe.

And then I recognize the car.

The Evil Ones.

And I've never been so happy to see them in my life.

“Help!” I scream, as loud as I can.

My dad leaps out of the driver's seat and drags the still-moaning Brent out of the car. Dad slams him against the hood, his hand against his neck.

“What the hell do you think you're doing with my daughter?” he demands in the most furious tone ever. Wow, I never realized my stodgy old dad kind of resembles a superhero at times.

My mom comes straight to me, wrapping her thin arms around my trembling body and leading me to the car.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asks, her voice laced with worry.

I motion to my wrist. It's throbbing like nobody's business. “I think it might be broken.”

She takes my wrist gently in her hands, pressing cool fingers up and down the bone, all the while looking like she's going to cry.

“I'm so sorry, Dawn,” she whispers. “This is all our fault.”

Well, sort of. But even I know this isn't how they planned the night to go, so I guess can forgive them. “You didn't know what Brent was like,” I say with a shrug, wincing as a new lightning bolt of pain snakes up my arm. “I didn't even know it.”

“How dare you mess with my daughter?” I glance over to where Dad is still unleashing his fury on Brent, who, amusingly enough, looks as if he's going to pee his pants. Ha! Serves him right. “Have you been drinking?”

“No, sir, we were just goofing around and …”

“Sarah, call the cops,” Dad yells over to my mother.

Brent's eyes bulge out in fright. “You can't do that! Think of what will happen to my dad—your friend—if it gets in the papers. And if Yale finds out …”

“You should have thought about that before you laid a hand on my daughter!”

Yeah! You tell him, Dad!

Wow. I've never seen my father so forceful and angry. Again it totally reminds me of Clark Kent turning into Superman. Who knew he had it in him? I'm actually rather proud of the guy at this point.

I want to watch Dad torture Brent some more, but my mother insists on leading me to the car after she makes the call to the police. I sit in the front seat, shivering in my thin dress, and she blasts the heat while we wait for the cops to show up.

“How'd you find me?” I ask, my teeth still chattering, more out of nerves than chill.

My mom smiles. “Your friend Sean called.”

Okay. Total jaw-dropping time. “He did?”

“Yes.” Mom nods. “He said you were in trouble and he couldn't reach you in time, but thought since we were closer we could.”

“And you believed him?”

Mom looks at me strangely. “Of course, Dawn. Why wouldn't we?”

Why wouldn't they, indeed. Well, for one, I would have assumed they'd think he was trying some trick. Seeing as he's a “crackhead” in their eyes. But when push came to shove, they swallowed their pride, believed his story, and came to my rescue, no questions asked. You know, for Evil Ones, they're pretty noble right about now. Maybe I should rethink the nickname. The Brave Souls Who Rescued Me from Certain Death, perhaps? Kinda has a ring to it.

“Thank you,” I say. “I didn't know what I was going to do.”

My mother looks pained. “I feel so terrible for forcing you into this, Dawn. You didn't want to go. You told me he wasn't a good boy, but I refused to believe it.” She runs a hand through her graying black hair. “It's just that he comes from such a nice family....”

“Character isn't based on income, Mom,” I remind her. “And you can't judge a boy by his cover.”

She turns and looks at me, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “When did you become so wise?” she asks. “You've grown up and I haven't noticed, have I?”

I nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “I guess so.”

She leans in and pulls me into a gentle hug, careful of my wrist. “I know we haven't been the best parents,” she says, her voice choking. “But we always tried to do what was best for you. Even though it probably didn't seem like it at the time. I hope you know we only did what we did because we love you so very much.”

“I know, Mom. And you're really not that bad,” I say with a giggle. “In fact, I wouldn't want anyone else.”

The police show up then, sirens blaring, lights flashing, effectively drowning out any more sappy mom/daughter convo. Dad turns Brent over to them and it's handcuffing time for the drunk frat-boy wannabe.

After giving them my statement, we drive down the hill to the emergency room, where they set my arm. Turns out my wrist is broken in two places. Damn Brent. But he's gonna get his. I hope he has to share his jail cell with some big, scary-looking, lonely inmate.

“So this Sean who called us,” my dad says on the way home. “Is he the boy from downtown?”

“Yes,” I say, nursing my arm. The cast is already itchy. “He's the crackhead you grounded me over seeing.”

“Can I assume we're being sarcastic with the term crackhead?”

“Uh, yeah, great that you noted it.”

Dad glances in the rearview mirror, his eyes meeting mine. “How come you've never introduced us?”

I bow my head. “Because I was afraid you would forbid me to see him.”

“That's what concerned me to begin with. Why would you think that? What's so bad about him that you would think we wouldn't want you dating him?”

“Nothing. Just …” I shrug. “He's poor. Real poor.”

“So?”

I look up. “So you want me to date someone with a lot of money. Someone like Brent.”

“I want you to date someone you like,” Dad says. “Someone who will be nice to you and treat you with the respect you deserve. Someone who will worship the ground you walk on and realize what a gem you are.” He pulls up to a stoplight and turns around to face me. “There are no minimum income requirements on your dates, Dawn. And there never were.”

“Really?” I burst out into happy tears. “So I can start dating Sean again?”

The light turns green and my dad steps on the gas. “Well, you're not officially supposed to start dating ‘til you're sixteen, but that's only a few weeks away.” He glances over at Mom, who smiles back at him. “I guess we could make an exception. But we want to meet him first, of course.”

I nod excitedly, my wildest dreams coming true. I can't believe it. I really can't believe it. “Okay. When do you want to meet him?”

“How about tomorrow?” Mom asks. “We could have dinner.”

“Aghh!” I give an excited squeal. “Really? Tomorrow? I can see Sean tomorrow?”

I feel like I should be singing the Orphan Annie song.

Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I'll see Sean, tomorrow. He's only a day away!

This is so great. I'm sure once they meet Sean, give him a real chance, they're going to love him.

Love him like I already do.

Chapter Twenty

 

I'm nervous and pacing up and down my room as I wait for six P.M. I've changed my clothes three times already and that's no easy feat with a broken wrist. I want to look perfect. I want this night to be perfect. I want my parents (I've retired the name The Evil Ones, btw) to think Sean's perfect. Or at least, perfect for me.

The doorbell rings and I nearly jump out of my skin.

I rush downstairs, but I'm not fast enough to beat Mom and Dad to the door. I notice they too have dressed nicely for dinner. Dad in a black professor turtleneck and my mom a brightly colored Pucci dress.

I stand on the landing, holding my breath as they open the door. I'm suddenly worried for some reason that Sean will show up in his grungy skater clothes. Then I scold myself. Who cares what he wears? My parents need to accept him for who he is, not how he dresses. Isn't that, like, the whole Lesson with a capital “L” they've supposedly learned from all this?

Still, all that said, I have to admit I'm more than a little relieved when the open door reveals Sean in a navy blue suit and tie. It's a little too big for him around the shoulders, like it belonged to someone else at one point, but he looks yummy in it all the same. His hair is gelled back and he's freshly shaven. Delish! I want to jump his bones and kiss him senseless, but I restrain myself. It's probably not the move that would get him on the immediate good side of the ‘rents.

“Hi, I'm Richard, and this is my wife, Sarah,” my dad introduces, holding out a hand. “And,” he adds with a grin, “I think you already know my daughter Dawn.”

Sean smiles at my father and shakes his hand. A firm handshake, like my dad appreciates, not one of those limp fish ones. I can see my dad's approval. Score one for Sean, I mentally cheer.

“It's nice to meet you, sir,” he says with a smile. (Sir? Okay, make that score two!) “And you too, Mrs. Miller,” he adds, turning to my mom.

“Call me Sarah,” Mom says.

Wow. She's letting him call her Sarah, that's huge! After all, Mom was a schoolteacher, so she's big on the whole Mrs. thing. She must like him already. I guess the whole saving me from the clutches of the evil Brent Baker the Third made a good first impression. But still, how cool is that?

I don't know what I was worried about. Sean's not a diamond in the rough at all. In fact, he'd be the most polished and gleaming gem in any jeweler's case. If we were at the country club, no one would give him a second glance.

This rocks!

“Hi, Sean,” I say, descending the stairs.

“Dawn!” he greets me, his eyes shining, not hiding his adoration for me. I wonder if my parents notice the radiating love vibes between us. “I've missed you.” He leans in and gives me a very respectable parents-are-in-the-room kiss on the cheek. Even the simple gesture sends those tingles to my toes. I can't wait ‘til I get him alone so we can share a real kiss!

“Shall we eat?” Mom asks with a half-hidden smile to Dad.

We retire to the dining room. At first I'm a bit worried Sean might be weirded out by all the obnoxiously fancy furniture and rare artwork. But if he is, he hides it well. In fact, he waltzes through the house as if he were a prince, born to luxury.