Stealing Parker (15 page)

The irony. I finally found a boy, Will, a boy I’m willing to risk everything on, to risk breaking my heart, but I stay still. Unmoving.

•••

Dad studied architecture at UT Knoxville, where Mom played softball.

When he was a boy, he loved poring over floor plans in house catalogs. He still loves reading those magazines today. He wanted to design homes and skyscrapers and bridges, but ended up working in the housing office at Franklin City Hall. And he’s fine there, because they pay him pretty decently and he doesn’t have to work terribly long hours. He had the opportunity to watch Ryan and me grow up. Mom got to stay home with us instead of having to work.

I remember taking a trip to Asheville, North Carolina, when I was twelve, and Dad was so excited to point out his favorite parts of Biltmore, this huge estate where the Vanderbilts once lived. He loves showing me diagrams of things like the Chrysler Building and the Shanghai Expo. His favorite building ever is the Pantheon in Rome, but he’s never been there.

He’s never been there because he saves all his money. He doesn’t want Ryan to work while he’s in college. He doesn’t want me to either. Dad’s made a lot of sacrifices for me and my brother.

If there’s one thing I want, God, it’s for Dad to take a trip to Italy. I want him to explore the Vatican and see the sculptures at the Medici Chapel in Florence. I want him to study the Bridge of Sighs in Venice.

I want so much for my father, Lord, because he wants so much for me.

Written while tucked under my covers on March 7. Burned.

•••

When I don’t answer his texts, Brian calls my cell.

“Can we get together?” he asks, sounding upset. I can hear a hockey game in the background. Maybe he’s watching the Predators on TV?

“I’m sick of being in your truck.”

“Yeah?”

I whisper, “I deserve more than that.”

He hesitates for a long time. “I want more, but I don’t know what I can give you right now.”

Will, Will, Will. I want him. Just thinking of him makes my skin tingle, and I keep reliving that afternoon we spent napping in my bed. Wondering what might’ve happened if we’d kissed. I doubt we’d be close like we are now. It’s like relaxing during a long snow when the streets are so covered with ice, school closes. Things with Will have been sorta delayed. I’ve gotten a chance to settle in, to get to know him for him, and him for me.

Wild to think that, a couple of weeks ago, I wanted Brian bad. And I’m not sure I do anymore. Admitting this, I feel stress pulsing through me. And it’s not only because of Will that I’m thinking this way. It doesn’t feel right.

“Maybe we should be friends?” I ask Brian, my voice shaking like crazy.

“Come on, Park,” he murmurs. “We’ve got something.”

“But…”

“Yeah?”

I summon some courage. “I want you to listen to me when I talk. I want to do something other than sit in your truck. Am I even your girlfriend?”

He clears his throat. I listen to the hockey game in the background. “You know I like you and want you, but we can’t date for real.”

“Okay, well I guess that’s it then. I’ll see you at practice Monday,” I say, and as Brian tries to interrupt, I quickly add, “Bye” and hang up.

I’m proud of myself for doing that.

Aaron Pritchard and Matt Higgins and other guys had a thing for me, but I treated their feelings like they didn’t matter, believing that guys don’t mind one-night flings. I thought I liked Brian seriously. But the way he’s treating me sucks. Shame fills my heart, when I think of the guys I used to prove that I’m not like Mom.

•••

On Sunday evening, Drew lets himself in the front door, carrying a bowl of popcorn and the
Half-Blood Prince
DVD. We decided to have a Harry Potter movie night at my house, because his mom recently started dating this guy, Otto.

Otto always wants to play dominoes. Drew and I have nothing against dominoes, but Otto takes the game very seriously and rolls his eyes when we start building fortresses and then knock them down with a catapult made out of a spoon and a salt shaker.

We curl up on the couch, and he lets me lean against him. Television light brightens the dim room.

“Ginny Weasley sure grew up to be a saucy minx, eh?” Drew asks, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

I’m grinning. “So did Neville Longbottom.”

“You think Neville Longbottom is a saucy minx?”

“No, no. He grew up to be kinda cute. So did Ron.”

“Don’t you think Draco is hot in an evil way?”

“No way,” I say, shoving Drew with an elbow. “He must spend hours a day gelling his hair. I could never date a guy who spends so much time on his appearance.”

“I bet Coach Hoffman spends a lot of time on his hair. It always looks perfect, even if he’s been wearing a cap.”

“We’re not dating.”

Drew turns to look at me, giving me a hard stare that says he doesn’t believe me.

“It’s true,” I say quietly. “I asked if I was his girlfriend and he said we can’t date for real. I guess he only wants to fool around.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Not really.” What I want is a two-way relationship. “I hung up on him last night after I basically said I’m not hooking up again until he lets me have a say in what we do.”

“Good for you.”

“But it sucks because I thought he really liked me.”

Drew pauses the movie. “Some guys are straight-up jerks. You can’t do anything about that.”

“He’s not a total jerk…” He’s confused and down and wants to stay young. Nothing wrong with that, but I wish he would consider my feelings more.

Drew puts an arm around me and whispers, “Did you do it with him?”

I shake my head. “He said he wanted to when I turn eighteen. But I’m not ready for that. With anybody.”

“I wish I’d waited…To have sex, I mean.”

“You regret doing it with Amy?”

He hesitates. “I love her. But I want to sleep with someone I’m
in
love with.”

“How was mini golf?” I’ve been dying to know how Drew’s date thing went last night. I couldn’t get any details out of Tate this morning at church.

He stuffs a handful of popcorn into his mouth. He smiles a little. “It was good. I won by a landslide. I have no idea why someone so not athletic would want to play mini golf.”

I snorggle. “Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t give me any details.”

Drew glances at me sideways. “He didn’t mention me?”

I get the feeling that, if not for Drew, Tate never would’ve said anything to me about himself, about his life. He seems kinda private. “He didn’t say anything. But he smiled when I brought you up. Are you going to see him again?” I’m excited for my friend.

“We want to get to know each other.” He blushes. “I haven’t even told Mom about me yet…Hey, listen. Corndog looked at my article about if the Braves should make a trade for a new bat in the middle of the order. He said he loved it, but gave me some edits. Can you read it to see if you have ideas on how to make it stronger?”

“Yeah, no prob—”

The front door opens, and Dad walks in. He says hello to us and pats my head softly.

“Were you out with Veena?” I ask, turning to hang over the back of the couch.

“She’s hot,” Drew says, chomping on popcorn. “I saw her out the window when she came over to your place last weekend.”

Dad’s face turns pink. “I don’t think we’re going to see each other again.” He says it matter-of-factly and makes his way toward the kitchen. Drew and I exchange looks.

I leap to my feet and follow Dad. “What? Why? Did you have a fight?”

He opens the fridge. Bright white light tumbles out. “Jack Taylor mentioned his wife is concerned about my relationship with Veena.”

“So?” Mrs. Taylor used to be Mom’s friend; you can guess how that turned out.

Dad stares inside the refrigerator. “She and Jack don’t think I should be off dating a younger woman when I should be taking care of you and your brother.”

“What? We don’t care. We like Veena!”

“That’s not the point. This isn’t the right time for me to try dating again.” He sighs heavily, and rubs his eyes with a finger and thumb. He can’t really believe that!

“We want you to be happy!”

He pulls out the orange juice. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“That is such bullshit,” I exclaim.

“Watch your mouth.”

Ryan appears in the doorway, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He got a haircut yesterday and now looks a lot more like he did pre-Vanderbilt. I can’t help smiling.

“What are you arguing about?” he asks.

“Dad broke it off with Veena,” I reply slowly.

My brother is silent, but sadness takes over his face. He turns and leaves the kitchen. His bedroom door shuts.

I close my eyes, lean my head against the wall and pray to God, to anyone who might be listening, to please help me. Please help my family. Hasn’t our church taken enough from us?

And now they have to take our new happiness too?

Why?

Why is Dad letting these people factor into his happiness so much? Why do we care? We can’t control what those assholes say, but we can ignore them. If we were to just forget them and focus on God, would everything be better?

After Monday’s practice, I’m unlocking my bike when Brian comes jogging up. He flips his hat around backward. His cutoff sweatshirt sleeves hang lazily over his elbows.

“Hey,” he says, breathlessly.

“What’s up?” I try to hide how annoyed I am.

“Want to do something tonight?” His eyes dart around.

Does he want to do dinner at Foothills? Or go to the Little Duck River again with Brandy? “You want to do something with me?”

“I do. Can I drop by at around eleven?” He gives me a sexy grin, a grin making it obvious what he wants. Which is not what I want.

I glance around the parking lot. Will and Drew are standing next to Drew’s VW bug, staring over at me. “I’ll text you later.”

“Is that a no?” he asks.

I play with the hem of my sweater. “I can’t.”

Brian reaches into his back pocket for a new piece of gum. “Call me whenever you’re ready to hang out, I guess. See you tomorrow.”

I hop on my bike and pedal home, pissed at myself for letting him go down my pants. And to think I thought we had a real connection. We have a physical attraction, and friendship, and commonalities, but there’s no romance. I want romance so much.

At my house, I lock my bike in the garage, then drag myself inside, all the while wishing the sweet and funny Brian I knew a few weeks ago would come back. I’m on my way to my room when I notice a leg sticking out of the bathroom. Ryan’s leg. I rush forward to find him sprawled out on the tiles, an empty bottle of Robitussin in his fist.

“Shit! Ryan!” I yell, dropping to his side. I check for a pulse and listen for breathing. He’s got both. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and I’m just about to call an ambulance when he lets out a moan.

He smacks his lips, and his eyes flicker open. His gaze meets mine.

“Are you okay?” I blurt. Tears drip down my face.

“Ugghhh.”

“Why?” I cry, plucking the bottle from his hand and throwing it in the trash. “Why do you keep doing this?”

“Sorry,” he moans.

I grab a washcloth from the closet, wet it, and begin dabbing at his forehead and neck. I’m wondering if I should call Daddy Denial to ask if I should take Ryan to the hospital when the doorbell rings.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Ryan. “Don’t move, got it?”

He shuts his eyes and keeps cleaning his face with the washcloth. I quickly check my appearance in the mirror—I’ve got red, puffy eyes.

I peer through the peephole. Will’s here, still in his jersey and baseball pants. He adjusts his cap. I pull open the door. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he replies, focusing on his cleats. “Can we talk? I dropped by because—”

“Can we talk later?” I rush to ask.

His head pops up. “What’s wrong?” He watches me wipe tears away. The smells of fabric softener and fried chicken threaten to make me sick.

He steps forward and wraps me in a hug. “Talk to me.”

The story tumbles out of my mouth. Will releases me and charges through the front door, with me on his heels. He finds Ryan and kneels down next to him. Will does the same thing I did: checks his pulse and listens to his breathing.

“Let’s take him to the hospital.”

“Are you sure?” I whisper.

“I’m fine,” Ryan slurs.

“I have never been so sure of anything,” Will says, finding my eyes. “We’re taking him in.”

•••

At the hospital, we’re not allowed in the emergency room. Will paces around the waiting room while I pick at my orange nail polish.

Dad was on his way home from work when I called. He’s rushing over to the hospital now.

“Can you please sit with me?” I ask Will. “You’re making me nervous.”

He gives me a slight smile and slides in next to me. Our hips touch, and he leans over and wraps his hands behind his neck. Nurses and orderlies zip back and forth in front of us. The paging system calls for Dr. Turner to report straight to the ICU. A woman with a broken leg rolls by in a wheelchair.

“Thank you for bringing us,” I tell Will quietly. “An ambulance would’ve cost too much, and I don’t drive often.” I clutch my knees.

“Does this happen a lot? With your brother?” he asks.

“He’s always high, if that’s what you mean.”

“Has he ever ODed before?”

I shake my head. “Not that I know of. I can’t believe this.”

“Bad things happen sometimes.”

“Yeah.”

It’s cool that Will is here supporting me, and not judging. If anyone from Forrest Sanctuary finds out about this, I can’t imagine the grief the church will give my family. A few years ago, Tasha Reed drank too much at a field party and had to be rushed to the hospital, and everyone at church had a field day with that one for ages.

An orderly walks by pushing some medical contraption covered by cords. That’s when I see Veena over by the nurse’s station. She spots me. Her eyes narrow, and she tightens her ponytail, starting toward me. Her pink scrubs bring out her tan skin and brown curls, and I can’t believe Dad would be so stupid as to let our church convince him to give her up.

“What are you doing here?” Veena asks, as Will and I stand to greet her.

“Her brother’s in the ER. We just brought him in,” Will replies, and Veena’s gone, running toward a set of double doors before I even get to say hello.

Will helps me to sit back down and this time, he puts an arm around me and talks about how Bo was in the hospital a lot when he was little. “One time last year, he had pneumonia. Dad was in the room with him and he accidentally fell asleep. I guess Bo saw someone walking by with a bag of Doritos, so he ripped the IV out of his leg, climbed out of the hospital bed and ran down the hall after the chips.”

I laugh softly and smile over at him. “All you Whitfield boys are such trouble.”

“Proud of it.”

That’s when Dad comes rushing into the ER and lifts me into his arms. Then he sets me down and beelines for the nurse’s station. I ask them to page Veena, and sadness and confusion and hurt cloud Dad’s face when she appears from behind those ominous double doors.

“How’s my son?” he hurries to ask her.

“He’ll be fine,” Veena tells Dad, placing a hand on his arm, to calm him. “We pumped his stomach, but there’s no irreparable damage.”

Veins bulge in Dad’s throat. “Thank you,” he tells her. “For taking care of him.” Then Dad wraps a hand around the back of my neck and kisses the top of my head. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I reply. Veena averts her gaze, dabbing at her eye with a thumb.

“Dr. Matlock wants to keep Ryan overnight for observation,” Veena says.

“Should I call your mom?” Will asks me, touching my elbow.

“No,” Dad and I say at the same time. I don’t think either of us can take that right now. It seems like he just noticed Will is here with me, because his back goes rigid and he briefly shakes Will’s hand, avoiding his eyes.

Dad’s going to stay overnight with Ryan, so Will says he’ll give me a ride home. Dad eyes Will, his face suspicious. “You go straight home, and no visitors tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” I reply.

Will puts an arm around me, and as we’re walking to the parking lot, Veena hurries after us. Her pink scrubs glow under the parking lot lights. She wraps her arms around herself to keep warm. “Parker, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Will gently touches my lower back before moving away.

Veena glances at him. “He’s cute, huh?”

I pinch my lip and nod.

“Are you dating him?”

“No. He’s just a friend.”

She gives me a look. Nothing gets past her. “I’m glad you’re hanging out with someone your age, at least.”

“Sorry about what happened with Dad,” I say, changing the subject.

She shakes her head and laughs to herself. She seems resigned. “The people around here don’t make it easy to fit in, that’s for sure.”

“You’re telling me.”

She places a hand on my upper arm. “But are you all right? Do you need to talk? About anything?”

I
don’t think I am okay, no
. “Everything’s cool,” I tell her.

“Okay, well maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

“I’ll be at church on Sunday.”

She smiles sadly. “I don’t think I’m going back to Forrest Sanctuary. But I get coffee all the time at the 41 Drive-In.”

“You should look up Will’s church. It’s called Westwood. They’re very nice there.” Veena smiles and thanks me, and says she needs to get back inside. “Thanks for everything,” I add, wishing so bad that she and Dad had worked out, and then I’m buckled into Will’s truck and we’re heading back to my house in silence. Streetlights whiz by. I watch his dangling pine tree air freshener swing back and forth.

At home, he jingles his keys as he walks me to the door. We stand under the porch light as gnats buzz around our heads.

“Thanks again,” I whisper, bowing my head. He puts two fingers under my chin, lifting it to where we can see each other.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he replies, pulling me into a hug. I dry my eyes on his sweatshirt and he responds by giving me a quick kiss on the top of my head.

“Night,” I say, touching the patch of hair his lips just touched. My heart beats like crazy. “Wait. Can you come in for a minute?”

Without a word, he follows me inside and to my bedroom. The streetlamp outside my window cuts a beam of light across the rug. He stares down at me for a long time, like I’m the only thing in the universe.

“I’d better go home,” he says, clutching the side of his neck.

“Yeah, you should go.” I’m praying that Drew doesn’t notice Will’s truck in the driveway. But mostly I’m praying Will doesn’t try to kiss me tonight,
and
fearing that he won’t.

“I’ll stay until you’re tucked in,” he says, so I put on my pajamas while he waits in the hallway, then I let him back into my room.

“Wait. Why’d you drop by again?” I ask.

He smiles and shakes his head. “It’s not important tonight.” He takes my hand, leading me toward my bed. I crawl under the covers and he pulls them up to my neck.

“I’m glad you were here.”

“Me too,” he says, sitting on my bed. He runs a hand over my head. His eyes bore into mine. He leans over and presses a kiss to my forehead, says good night, and leaves my room, looking back at me one last time.

It would’ve been so easy to invite him into my bed.

But I don’t want to be that kind of girl.

I miss the girl I used to be.