Vibes (23 page)

"No!" Now he's breathing so hard that droplets of spit escape from between his lips.

"Obviously you are lying, Jacob."

He tries to assume a deadpan expression, but he can't do it, so finally he gives up. "You don't understand, Kristi! It's Felix Mathers's fault!"

"Felix? That weird dude?"

"When we walked to school together, anytime he saw you he'd say something disgusting to me about your boobs. He's obsessed!" Jacob looks so revolted that any second he might actually physically crawl out of his skin.

"Calm down, Jacob. I believe you."

"He said so much stuff about you that it got into my head! Any time I saw you I'd remember his sick fantasies. It drove me crazy!"

"It's okay, Jacob."

"You better stay away from Felix Mathers, Kristi. He is a very troubled boy."

"I will, Jacob."

He's so freaked out that it actually makes him look kind of manly, because he's staring hard and he's breathing in a really aggressive way. "Why do you have to be so psychic?!" he demands of me.

I shake my head, bewildered. "I was starting to think I wasn't!"

"Really?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, come on. Reading minds? It's kind of kid stuff, isn't it?"

He sees the sense in this, and nods agreement. "Maybe you were responding to physical cues or something."

That must be it. I was extrapolating from his body language. "Like how you used to stare at my boobies all the time?" I say with an evil grin.

His face twists. "Gross, Kristi."

"You did! But anyway, Jacob, it's not my business what you were thinking."

"That's right!" I wait while Jacob pulls himself together. He rearranges his scarf and pats down his hair. "That was very upsetting."

"It's all over now, Jacob." And it really is. It's even kind of a relief to be more normal than I thought I was.

It's chilly outside. I snuggle into the coat I made from an old Hudson Bay blanket, glad it still fits. Even though I miss the pink cotton-candy tree, I don't mind the changing season. Autumn is such a comfortable time of year, when drinking hot chocolate and reading books and huddling up with Minnie is all there is to do. And I love doing all those things.

"There's this guy at the gym I kind of like," Jacob tells me as we continue down the school steps. "He looks at me a lot, too. I'm not sure if he's in high school, or maybe he goes to college. Maybe I'll get the courage up to talk to him."

"Is he cute?" I bounce down the stairs beside him.

"He's totally hot. He's Hispanic, or Mexican. Anyway, I think I like the tall, dark, and handsome type even more than I like the Viking type." He pauses, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. I turn to look.

Gusty is leaning against a narrow tree trunk, watching us. He seems to be waiting for me.

Jacob smiles. "I'll see you later. Call me." He walks down the sidewalk, hugging his canvas barn coat around himself against the sudden wind.

Slowly I close the distance between Gusty and me.

He tries to smooth his overgrown curls out of his eyes, but they pop right back to where they had been before.

"Hey," I tell him.

"Hi." He gives me a sad smile, his eyes on the red stripe of my coat, following it all the way to the ground.

He starts walking, so I start walking, too. We go slowly. He kicks into the tiny pebbles that have collected in the gutter, and some of them spray my brown lace-up boots.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"It's okay," I whisper back.

"I mean about what I said," he whispers again.

"I know."

He is quiet walking next to me, and he doesn't seem to know exactly where we're going. The way he walks, with short kicking motions, makes me think that he has his eyes closed. But when I look at his eyes I see that they're wide open.

"So did you decide I'm not crazy after all?"

"I never thought you were crazy. Just a little ... confused." This hurts, and I'm about to really let him have it, but he holds up his hand to stop me. "I mean about Mallory and me."

"Oh. I only said I'd go out with Mallory because I didn't know you liked me. I didn't think someone like you could ever like someone like me."

He lets out a little puff of air. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, Gusty. You know what I mean." He goes back to kicking at the small rocks in the gutter. "You could have any girl you want. Any
guy,
for that matter."

He laughs.

"Eva Kearns-Tate
likes
you, for God's sake. She's never been my favorite person, but I have to admit she's gorgeous."

He nods again. "Sure. She's very pretty."

"So? Why would I think you'd want me when you could have her?"

"Well, geez, I traded character education partners so that I could work with you."

"What?!" If it's possible to be thrilled and shocked at the same time, that's what I am. "You traded partners to work with me?"

"I had to pay Farid Amir twenty dollars so he'd work with that weird girl who's always drawing hearts on her notebook."

"I had no idea!"

He stares at me like I'm a very slow child. "You never even
looked
at the bulletin board, did you?"

I shrug, and he rolls his gorgeous eyes. Now I'm embarrassed and happy at the same time. Gusty sure knows how to mix up my emotions.

He seems to feel mixed up too. I want to make him happy if I can, so I say, "Gusty, if I'd known you liked me, I wouldn't have gone out with Mallory."

He's quiet for a while, so I don't know if my explanation worked, but finally he says, "I guess there's no way you could have known I liked you. It's not like I really told you."

"I
should
have known. Mallory said he knew. He said everyone knew, except me. And Jacob Flax, I guess."

He grimaces. "Yeah, that announcement at lunch got me thinking—maybe he likes me?" He looks at me tentatively.

"Nah, he likes a guy at his gym," I say nonchalantly, figuring Jacob will probably want to save face. I'm a bitch, but I can be a nice bitch. Sometimes.

"Kristi." Gusty takes a deep breath and forces himself to face me. He grabs both my shoulders and looks into my eyes with such intensity that I know this is costing him effort, as though he's mastering something inside of himself. "I like you better than Eva because I like your spirit. She's a nice girl, but I like how fiery and dangerous you are. You're smart, and you don't let anyone walk on you. And when your dad left, you were so brave about it, even though I could tell it hurt you. After Hildie blew you off I thought you'd get depressed, but instead you came to school wearing the coolest clothes I'd ever seen, and you acted like you didn't even care that your best friend totally abandoned you."

"I did care," I whisper.

"But you didn't give her the satisfaction of knowing it. That took guts."

"So I'm the fat girl with the great personality?"

"No! You're curvy and soft." He seems to have stopped thinking about what he wants to say. He's just saying it. "I love the color of your skin, and your thick hair—I just want to mess it up. And your huge eyes. You have the biggest, most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, and I love the way they change color, from being almost black indoors, and then they become this deep olive green when the sun hits your face. I love the way your lips look like candy. I love the way you smell. I don't know if it's your shampoo or your perfume. Maybe it's just pheromones. I don't know, but I love it. I've never smelled it anywhere else. Kristi, I really like you. Will you go to the Halloween dance with me?"

Now that it's my turn to speak I can't, so I nod.

"Okay, cool," he says. Suddenly looking directly at me seems to be too much for him, and he starts walking again. "Will you sew your own costume?"

"I kind of
have
to sew my own clothes. Most shirts don't even fit around my ginormous—" The words catch in my throat, and I look at him.

He's smiling, a little crookedly, and his green eyes are glowing at me. "Your ginormous..." He whirls around, and suddenly our chests are touching and I can feel his breath on my face. He raises an eyebrow. "Your ginormous personality?"

I shake my head, totally embarrassed.

"Kristi, you have a totally
sick
body. You should
not
be ashamed of it."

I stare at his face in open amazement. "
What
did you just say?"

He suddenly gets super embarrassed and mumbles, "I think your body is ... nice."

"You said
sick!
"

"Yeah." His eyes dart around, a little perplexed. "It's a skater word. If someone mungs a primo grind ... you know? It's sick."

I'm speechless. I can only stare at him, my mouth open, my eyes sending out rays of happiness. "So, in skaterspeak,
sick
is
good?
"

"Yeah!
Sick
is awesome."

Gusty is smiling at me like he's almost ready to laugh, and that makes me want to crack a joke. "So
sick
is good ... I have much to learn. Will you teach me the ways of your people?"

"Oh, lady, I'll get you your own board, if you want."

"Okay, if you'll listen to my
Carmen
CD with me," I say. I have a feeling that's a good opera to start him on.

His eyes smile into mine, but then he opens his backpack and starts fishing through it. "I have something for you," he says.

I know what it is, and I'm so relieved. "Why did you take it?"

"You'll see." He pulls it out. It's wrapped in a piece of black velvet tied with a ribbon, which is a beautiful deep purple. I untie it and shove it into my pocket to save so I can wear it in my hair. The velvet slides off the box, and I gasp.

He has fixed it. It closes with a perfect seal that looks airtight. "You fixed my box for me?"

He nods. "I rubbed it with a beeswax finish to preserve it. The grain is really pretty now, isn't it?" I run my fingers over the butter yellow wood. It feels velvety and smooth, almost like skin. I open the box and see that he has lined it with the same black velvet he wrapped it in. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"I love it," I whisper. I'm so moved that I could cry, but I don't want him to see, so I put my arms around him and lean my face onto his shoulder. He can probably feel my tears on his neck, but I realize I don't care if he knows I'm crying. I don't mind at all.

We hold each other, and I can feel the vibes moving between us. It's more than the flashes I get from most people because I feel his thoughts through my whole body. Every message and whisper coming from his mind is deeply warm, like sunlight through stained glass.

I pull away to look at him, at his lips. His tongue flicks along the bottom edge of his teeth. I'm looking at his mouth because I can't bear to look into his eyes. If I do, I know something in me will break and flood all through me. I'll be lost, swimming, trying to breathe, trying too hard, if I look into his eyes.

But I can't help myself. I look.

And he's looking at me. Just looking.

I can breathe. I'm drowning, but I can still breathe.

He takes a deep breath, pulls me toward him, and he kisses me.

Autumn leaves are swirling around us, and Gusty Peterson is kissing me.

We move together as if we're dancing, and I love letting him lead. For the first time in my life I let go completely, and I melt into him.

After everything, it's possible I really did hear Gusty thinking I was sick—I just didn't understand what he meant! Maybe I
have
been receiving psychic vibes; it's just that my filter was on the wrong setting.

Or maybe it was clogged with all my negative crap.

I guess life is a big guessing game, no matter how much I think I know.

But I don't have to guess about this: kissing was invented by silken-haired angels with violin voices and dewdrop eyes.

And I'm still me, a big-breasted, slightly freaky, opera-loving, possibly psychic seamstress and cat enthusiast who now has a totally hot boyfriend.

Thanks to the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators for the Work-in-Progress Grant, which helped make this book possible. Thanks to the talented writers who read early drafts of this book: Catherine Stine, Maggie Powers, Carolyn MacCullough, Melinda Howard, Tara Morris, and Jil Picariello. Special thanks to my sparkling agent, Kathleen Anderson, and my shimmering editor, Margaret Raymo, and the whole team at Houghton Mifflin. To the Westside YMCA Writer's Voice, for being such a great place to teach, with wonderful students who taught me as much as I tried to teach them. To my family, both nuclear and extended, deep gratitude for their tireless support. To Miles for making me laugh, and to Rich for making me happy.