The Lighter Side of Life and Death (7 page)

BOOK: The Lighter Side of Life and Death
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It sounds like one of those questions that don’t need an answer and I climb into the car and snap on the seat belt. “You remember where the house is?” I ask.

“Sure. Right off Weston.”

“Yeah.” I nod, and somewhere in that four-second pause my mind leaps back to Kat shrinking away from me in the hall. I mean, how’s that supposed to make me feel? It’s not like I talked her into something. She was the one who asked if I had condoms. We’re supposed to be friends, and the way she’s acting, it’s as though she can barely stand me. “That’s right.”

Colette fixes her eyes on me, her lips stretching like she’s about to break into a smile, only she doesn’t. She sticks the key in the ignition and revs the engine. Then we’re pulling out of the parking lot and heading down Kennedy in silence. Don’t ask me why but I get the feeling we could keep going like that until we hit my house. I can see it. Not a word, not a sound, not even the radio, until she pulls into my driveway. I’ll say thanks and she’ll say no problem and that will be the end of it.

Only suddenly that’s not how I want this to go. “So what’re you going back to school for?” I ask, turning to look at her.

“Law. I’m trying to get some money together first. I have the apartment and car payments to keep up.” We stop at a red light and Colette looks over at me and adds, “Lately I’ve been insanely
jealous of all those people that move back home to save money. Seems like everyone is doing that these days.”

“And you can’t?”

“My parents are big into the
Christian
thing.” Colette bends her fingertips around the word, inserting quotation marks. “It’s not my scene.”

“I get you.” I focus on Colette’s hands back on the steering wheel. I look at the dark sleeves of her blazer and follow them up to her shoulders. Her neck’s long and slender and she’s got a single freckle under her jawline. She has a pretty face with sharp, almost aristocratic-looking features, like a woman you’d see playing a young countess in a historical drama—the countess who is smarter, sexier and more intriguing than everyone else in the movie. I’d check out her legs again too but that’d be obvious.

“What about you?” she asks. “Have you figured out what you want to do after high school?”

“Maybe.” I smile coyly as I glance at her sideways. I’m all over the map today; I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I mean, the girl is, like, twenty-five but she’s really something in this strange, delicate kind of way. It’s almost like I can’t help flirting.

“Holding out on me, huh?” Her dark eyes shine at me from the driver’s seat.

“Nah.” I shake my head, point my gaze out the window and try to stay cool. “I’m just not sure yet.” I scratch my ear and add, “I’ve been doing some acting at school.”

“That’s great,” Colette says enthusiastically. “I bet you’re good.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know. You seemed pretty comfortable with yourself that day at the party.”

That day at the party when she flirted back
. I’m right about that much.

“I wish I could’ve been confident like that in high school,” Colette continues. “You’re so far ahead of the game if you’ve got it together at fifteen and don’t let the stupid things get you down.”

“Sixteen,” I correct, staring at her boldly. I swear I feel drunk on Cinnamania, like I don’t know what I’ll do or say next. Maybe it’s partly because of how Kat acted today but it’s not as simple as that. It’s also how long Colette’s legs looked in her high heels at Nina’s shower and how she keeps saying the right things to me.

Colette stops the car and then I notice we’re parked right in front of my house and that in a second I’ll have to say goodbye and get out.

“Sixteen,” Colette repeats slowly. “Right.” She stares steadily back, sizing me up, wondering if she’s misinterpreting my intentions.

“I guess it doesn’t make much difference.” Reality’s filtering through my sugar high and I’m beginning to lose my nerve. This is a full-grown woman I’m sitting next to. She’s probably been in high heels for as long as I’ve been in school. “So I’ll see you later, Colette.” Thing is, I’m still sitting there, waiting for something to happen, my breath vibrating in my throat.

“O-kay,” Colette says in a funny voice. “This is the part where you get out of the car, Mason.”

“Seriously?” I ask, disappointed. It’s stupid but somehow I can’t believe she’s going to make me get out of the car. Then again, how could I expect any different? “Yeah, sure,” I add swiftly, coming to my senses. “Thanks for the ride.”

Colette laughs at me, and I blush. “You’re so cute,” she says, and then, probably because I look embarrassed, she adds, “Don’t worry about it, Mason. We’re cool.” I crinkle up my eyes, wishing I could blend with the upholstery. “Don’t worry,” she repeats, and I’m sitting there shaking my head, not even trying to hide the fact that I feel like a loser.

In fact, she’s being so great about it that I’m almost sort of enjoying this in a weird way. “Okay,” I mumble finally. “Thanks.”

I turn partway to look at her, red creeping across my face like an allergic reaction, and she looks back at me and says, “Where were guys like you when I was in high school?” She sounds sincere, and we both laugh quietly at the sublime ridiculousness of the situation.

“All right, then,” she announces, smiling. “Be good.”

I’m still blushing uncontrollably but I smile too. “I don’t know about that.”

“Just humor me,” she says, and before I can say anything else she leans over and kisses me, half on the lips and half on the chin, like she hasn’t made up her mind.

I blink incredulously, and in that moment all my manic feelings for Kat start to slip away. It shouldn’t be that easy; what can I say? It wasn’t even a real kiss but here I am sitting next to Colette in her car, my mind and body humming so hard that the reverberations could cause an earthquake. “Is that some kind of consolation prize?” I ask. My voice is husky; I can’t control it either.

Colette eyes me with a look I can’t decipher. It gives me goose bumps down my arms, not knowing whether I’ve made her mad or what. Then her hands spring back towards the steering wheel as she says, “I’d consider myself lucky if I were you.” She flashes a smile to let me know she’s not pissed. “Good luck with the acting.”

“Thanks.” You’d think we’re never going to see each other again, the way we’re talking, but I don’t believe that. “Good luck with law school.” I bend my head in towards my chest, whip the car door open and tread slowly up my driveway, feeling humble and amazed.

seven

The next morning
Hugo and three of Monica Gregory’s friends are hanging off her in the GS parking lot, all of them beaming ultrabrite smiles and giving off giddy vibes. Monica’s wearing this tiny red plaid kilt that makes her legs look almost as incredible as Colette’s and whispering into Hugo’s ear. He rubs her back as he nods and I’ve just shifted my attention away from them when I hear Monica squeal my name across the parking lot.

She motions towards me, urging me to join them. The picture all adds up to something but I don’t know what yet, only that Monica wants me to ask.

“Hey, what’s up?” I say as I catch up to them. Their sunny group smile (except for Hugo) makes me grin automatically back. The blonde on Monica’s left leans in close to her and waits for Monica to answer me.

“I promised myself I wasn’t going to spread this around until I knew for sure,” Monica declares, eyes sparkling. Then she
impulsively grabs my hand to pull me closer still. “But you won’t tell anyone, right? Not if I say not to?”

“My lips are sealed,” I promise. The group of us heads towards the west doors, Hugo shooting me a hard look like I’m treading on his territory.
You gotta be kidding
, I think to myself.
Monica Gregory is equal opportunity
. Besides, I’m not into her like that; Colette’s been taking up most of my mental energy since I climbed into her car last night. I didn’t imagine that half kiss or how sexy she looked in a suit. I’m still in a fever nearly twenty-four hours later.

“Okay,” Monica says, tapping two fingers quickly to her lips like she can barely contain herself. She explains that she was at the airport with her mother last night, picking up her dad from a business trip, when this talent scout approached them and handed over her card. “My parents researched the agency when we got home and it’s one hundred percent legit.” Monica’s cheeks flush as she continues. “She thought I might be right for a lotto commercial they want to cast a teenage girl for. I mean, who knows if I’ll get it but just the idea, you know …”

I watch Hugo’s eyes twitch as Monica squeezes my arm and loops hers affectionately around it. “That’s fantastic!” I tell her. “You scored yourself an audition.”

“It looks that way,” Monica says happily.

“Fantastic,” I say for the second time. “You have to let me know how that goes.” Most commercials look only marginally more emotionally challenging than all the department store catalog work I did years ago (if I had to do one more photo shoot where the entire point was sticking my hands in my pockets and staring off camera, looking like I didn’t have a care in the world, I think I’d implode) but Monica’s clearly hyped about it and I wouldn’t turn down a credit like that myself. At least being in a commercial lets you breathe—and maybe even speak—on film.

“Thanks!” she tells me. “I’ll keep you posted.”

Our group begins to disperse as we walk through the west doors and I’m in the middle of saying goodbye to Monica when I spy Kat outside the cafeteria. She flashes me an urgent
come here
look but I take my time; I haven’t forgotten yesterday afternoon’s humiliation.

“Hey, Kat,” I say finally, ambling towards her. “What’s up?”

“This is totally depressing,” Kat declares, staring gloomily after Monica G. “Does she need everything handed to her on a silver platter?”

Seems like Monica’s secret news isn’t so secret after all, but my promised silence on the subject stops me commenting, and anyway, I’m not sure what Kat wants me to say. I tilt my head and shrug my knapsack higher onto my shoulder.

“Where’d you and Chris take off to yesterday?” she continues.

“Nowhere much.”
How am I supposed to see Colette again without stalking her?
That’s my big concern at the moment. I need another fix. My Kat baggage vanishes without a trace whenever I’m in Colette’s vicinity. I don’t need to be Dr. Phil to realize that’s a good thing.

“You know, I was serious about the physics assignment.” Kat gives me an earnest look, does a rapid scan of the hallway and then flicks her gaze back to me. “Sondra and I were working on it most of the night.” She runs her fingers through her bangs and adds, “This is so unfair. This Monica thing shouldn’t get to me, right? Why am I letting it get to me? It’s not that I even like Hugo anymore. I don’t even know what it is.”

So we’re back to Monica G, okay. “It’s like she’s being rewarded for screwing you over,” I say neutrally.

“That’s exactly what it’s like,” Kat says, wide-eyed.

It sounds like Kat’s not over Hugo, is what it sounds like.

“I know.” I nod and close my fingers tightly around my knapsack strap. “I gotta get to my locker, Kat. I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“Yeah. Bye, Mason.” She looks straight at me, just like the old Kat would, just like nothing ever happened between us. That could be a good thing, I guess, except that it all comes down to Hugo. I’m not important enough to stress over long-term; he is.

I go to homeroom and listen to the usual collection of announcements over the PA. You can hand in used cell phones, inkjet cartridges, iPods, digital cameras, laptop/notebook computers to Mr. Melesi in room 24 to help raise money for our local food bank. Students are reminded not to park in the designated staff areas in the back parking lot. If you do, expect to be towed. Attention, senior students traveling to Spain with Ms. Acosta: today’s lunchtime meeting is canceled. And so on and so on …

On my way to English later I pass Hugo again in the hall, which reminds me that Kat’s likely having a shitty morning, and at lunch she proves it by coming over to where I’m sitting and planting her ass in the closest chair. Jamie sits on her other side, giving me this fierce déjà vu. He tries to cheer her up in this really subtle way and it works a little but when she stops talking her mouth still looks tense, like maybe she’s just pretending for him.

It’s so familiar to hear them talk like this that next thing I know, I’m pitching in on the
Distract Kat
campaign, talking about the two Bs at home and how I’ve lost control over the basement because it has the only TV in the house and Brianna doesn’t seem to do anything else. Plus, the girl can’t stand me and I’m mortally afraid of Billy (the black cat), which doesn’t sound like a very frightening name but believe me, the thing is feral.

“He can’t be that bad,” Kat says with a smile. “You should try to make friends with him.”

“I’m not supposed to touch him,” I say with this deadpan expression. “How am I supposed to make friends with him? He doesn’t even come near me. He’s always lurking in corners, watching me like he’s waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. Anyway, Brianna’s worse. She’s one of those people who make you carry the entire conversation while she sits there scowling at you like you’re being an asshole.”

“It must be hard for her, though,” Kat says sympathetically. “She’s just moved into your house, where she probably doesn’t feel that much at home since she’s living with the two other people that have always belonged there and she’s what? Thirteen or something? That’s such a weird age in the first place without having to fit into this whole new family.”

“Right, but that’s not the point. You can make things easy or you can make them hard, you know?”

Kat stares at the table like she’s thinking that over, and it feels like a conversation we would’ve had a month ago, like we’re just trying to figure things out generally, without having to watch our step. “Give her some time,” she says, that sexy hint of an accent in her voice. “There’s no way she can dislike you forever. She just doesn’t really know you yet.”

Did I hear that right? Once I start to smile I can’t quit.

BOOK: The Lighter Side of Life and Death
5.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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