Rule #9 (15 page)

The heels that I heard clicking in the shop have now been replaced with pink slippers. Alicia walks into the room. Her work attire has been changed to navy yoga pants and a heather tunic. “Papi.” Alicia’s eyes light up when she sees her father. She kisses him on the cheek. “That smells so yummy. Are you making rellenos for dinner?”

“Yes, I am.” He turns toward the refrigerator and pulls out a tray of peppers covered in batter, then slides them into the preheated oven. “Mazzie, you’re in for a treat."

“Papi, her name is Massie,” Alicia says. “With an
s
, not a
z
.”

“Don’t tell me what I can call her.”

The garage door shakes the wall.

“I can fix that if you let me, mija.”

“Joel said he’d fix it, Papi.”

I shake my head. “Not during football, he won’t.”

Mr. Morales laughs and I feel a tiny twinge—no, I don’t feel guilty at all. Nothing happens during football except football. I shouldn’t feel guilty for telling it like it is.

My father glides into the kitchen and nudges me with his shoulder. I can feel the cold on his jacket. “Is Alicia’s dad cooking his famous rellenos?” he asks.

I don’t answer. When the food is ready we eat. Everyone at the table talks to each other except me and my father. The silence between us will linger. My dad won’t say he’s sorry. I won’t back down either. He’ll give me stupid looks and nudges like all is all better. In “his world,” maybe—not mine. Not this time. I have always just forgotten when he decides to come around. I deserve an apology this time.

Only three more pans to hand-wash, and then I’m out the door—or I’ll hibernate in my room. I dig with the dish brush. The cheese that’s baked onto the pan flings into the sink.

“Have you met the new linebacker? That kid can move.” My father dishes the last of the chilies onto his plate. He stands next to me as I scrub. “He’s the kid I was telling you about. Alicia’s friend’s brother.”

I finish cleaning the pan, wash my hands, dry them with the damp towel, and then slap the towel into the sink. I don’t look at my father on the way out. But I do answer his question. “Actually, I’d like to meet his lips. They look pretty tasty.”

As my father’s plate shatters on the kitchen floor, I realize Jack will end up running laps tomorrow. For this I’m sorry.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

After I get off work and Jack gets out of football practice, we meet at the coffee shop. The clouds have rolled in and it’s raining outside. I rush through the door. My hair is matted onto my face. I look around and don’t see Jack. I stomp the water from my shoes and head back to the bathroom. I dump my things on the table, grab my makeup bag, then squeeze into the tiny room. I see my reflection in the mirror and wish that I’d grabbed an umbrella before I left the shop. There are at least four of them behind the counter at work. Gaby never lets the elements destroy her appearance. One day I might learn. Probably not.

I brush through my hair with my fingers and allow the natural waves to just go where they want. There’s no use fighting it since I don’t have time to run home and fix it. I take a section of paper towel off the holder and clean off the mascara that has run down my face. I grab my compact and pat mineral foundation on my face so my blotchy skin doesn’t look so bad. I lean back. I can’t step back to get an overall look. It’s too cramped. “It’s gonna have to do.”

I walk out and find Jack sitting at the table. He’s wearing jeans and a hoodie and I can tell by his wet mane that he didn’t use the hood on his sweatshirt to keep him dry. Unlike me, his wet head makes him look even sexier than he did yesterday. He’s ordered two hot cocoas in ceramic cups. They each have a huge dollop of whipped cream on them. I sit and take a sip. My eyes close as the chocolate and cream hit my tongue. I unconsciously take a deep breath in and relax. I forgot how wonderful this simple drink tastes.

“I took a chance and ordered something different. If you don’t like it, I can get you your latte.”

I hold the cup in both hands and look up. I slowly shake my head and say, “No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

Jack takes a sip of the warm liquid, then says, “Your daddy turned on me today. I don’t know what I did,” Jack says.

“Shit,” I mumble. If I could have just kept my damn mouth shut. My mom tells me that sometimes we just need to keep our feelings inside and not blurt them out because there are times when they will come back and bite us in the ass. I keep quiet now, even though my mom also tells me that sometimes you just have to own up to your shit.

“I mean, we killed Eastlake last week. They only scored three points to our thirty-four and I almost stopped that ball when their kicker went for the three points. He can’t be mad at me for that.”

I missed the game. It was too far away for me to get there in time, and none of my friends wanted to take the drive with me. And I didn’t want my dad to think I was coming for him. Now I wish I would have gone. I missed out. Another piece of advice from my mom that I didn’t listen to. She says that you don’t need your friends to always do things with you or agree with you. She says we need to make our own choices. She says we need to go for things and do things on our own. She says the only regrets we will ever have are the chances we don’t take and the experiences we chose not to engage in.

It sucks when parents are right.

Jack and I doodle in our book at the back table at Pollywog’s. Jack tries to show me how to draw the flower from a tulip poplar tree. The petals are large and yellow on the top. Close to the center of the flower the petals have orange hues, forming a band. Several yellow, tube-like stems pop out. It looks like it belongs in the ocean.

“I need to see the flower to draw it,” I say.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” he says.

“Well, I can’t picture it in my head.”

He pulls out his phone. “No, not the flower, your daddy. I don’t understand why he’s so mad. One day I’m like his best bud, and the next day he’s mad as a puffed-up toad-frog, making me run laps.” Jack finds a picture of the blossom on the Internet. He puts his phone in the center of the table so we can both look at it.

I pick up the phone and stare at the tree full of blooms. I’ve never seen anything like it in Colorado. I can’t draw nature like my dad can. I’m better off sticking to my froglike creature.

“Has Alicia said anything about me?” he asks.

“What would she say?” I focus on the photo. If I look up at him, I know that my expression will show my guilt.

“I don’t know.”

I try and change the subject. “Are the petals small like a crabapple tree?” I ask. Then I do something stupid. I allow my eyes to meet his and I can tell by Jack’s face that he can see my guilt.

He takes the phone from my hand and sets it back on the table. “Do you know something?”

I look back down at my work when I answer him. “He asked me if I knew you and I said something about wanting to meet your lips.”

There’s a long pause. Jack doesn’t speak. I keep my head down but I glance up at him. He’s staring at me in disbelief. Oh God, now he hates me. I’ve totally messed this up. He probably never liked me like that in the first place. He probably likes Sidney. She did say they were spending more time together. They probably hung out after last week’s game. The stupid cheerleaders get to go to all the games. I should have gone.

“What?” Jack asks.

I dig into the back of my brain for a way out of the mess I’ve dug myself into. Jack looks pissed. Guilt washes over my face. My eyes drop back down at the table. “Sorry. We were fighting. I was mad at him. I still am. I hate that he won’t ever talk about anything. He hates confrontation unless it’s out on the football field. So instead of talking about our fight, my dad asked me if I met you. I told him I wanted to meet your lips.”

Jack doesn’t say anything. I can’t stand not knowing, so I look up. My shoulders are slouched and I’m ready for the worst. I know I’ve blown all chances with him.

Jack moves his body across the table. The tips of his fingers lift my chin so that our eyes meet. The once-emerald eyes now have a deep shade of blue on the outer edge and they’re locked onto mine. He moves closer. His soft lips touch mine. His fingers no longer hold my chin, they move along my cheek, and then both hands gently cup my face. His lips part and I melt into him. Jack pulls me closer and then his lips tighten. He opens his eyes and I can see the smile. His lips pull away from mine, but he allows his forehead to touch mine. His eyes continue to swallow me whole. “Well, girl, now you’ve met them.”

I bite my lip.

He moves back—not once taking his eyes off me. He grabs his stuff and walks out, leaving the pencils behind.

I drive to Vianna’s. Her mom lets me in but warns me, “You’re entering the danger zone. And I’m not talking Top Gun either. It’s more like World War Three in there.”

I look at Ms. Bryant but ignore the warning and walk down the hall, excited to tell me friend about the kiss and get her advice. Does the kiss mean that he really likes me? Or was he being a smartass because of what I did? Vianna will be able to sort all this out for me. I walk into her room and start to ask. “I need your—” I stop dead in my tracks. She’s ripping her college pendants off the wall in her bedroom. Her dried-out tears are tattooed on her cheeks. “What the hell?” I sit on her bed.

Vianna’s the opposite of Natalie. She never loses her cool. Has the cosmos switched my friends’ personalities? Or did the Build-a-Bear finally explode?

The advice about Jack and the kiss will obviously have to wait.

I tap on the wall next to her bed. “Hey. You okay?” She doesn’t realize I’m in her room, she is so focused.

“My dad,” Vianna rips the Yale pendant off her wall. “That jerk.”

I step back. She’s actually scaring me a little. The curls in her hair are no longer tame. They are wild. She looks like she had it in a ponytail but ripped it out like she’s yanking at the pendants on her wall.

“He called me today. He wanted to go to lunch. I was so excited.” Two more pendants fly through the air.

Vianna and her father collected college pendants. He started the tradition the day she entered into this world: the tiny flag sporting a Buffalo had hung above her crib. He had always told her she could go to college anywhere she wanted. Vianna has the grades and the money to do just that. Her grandparents put some money aside, and her parents contributed monthly. Her mom still does. Vianna’s the only friend I know who will graduate college without loans.

“We went to lunch,” Vianna says. “That man was so flipping nice. I thought I had my dad back. Then that home-wrecking, fake-boob, plastic-surgery-junkie, mother-of-sleazebag showed up.” Vianna takes her hands and messes up her hair. “She was acting all nicey-nice too. They wanted to borrow some money from my college fund to send her dropout son to truck driver school. What the hell?”

Ms. Bryant bursts into the room with a plastic bag. She shakes the bag open, picks up the mangled pieces and tosses them inside. “I called your father and told him that it wasn’t your issue that they used up his savings for his wife’s habit. I told him the plastic surgery doesn’t even make her good; she looks like her skin is molded onto her face.”

Vianna pushes out her lips. “I don’t think her lips can get much bigger, but she keeps going in and having injections of that poison crap. Pretty soon we’ll all be able to take cover when it rains.”

Vianna and her mother snort. We all fall to the ground laughing.

Natalie stomps in with three pints of ice cream. “Rule number nine, ice cream makes everything better.” She plops the bag on the bed and looks at us. “What did I miss?”

“You would be so proud. Our friend here is letting all of those bottled-up feelings out. And loudly, I might add,” I say.

Ms. Bryant leaves the room. Natalie hands over pints of frozen desert and white plastic spoons. Natalie has rocky road, Vianna has orange sherbet, and mine is mocha chip.

“Well, I have good news. Stephanie’s in a jam.” Natalie shoves a spoonful of the chocolate ice cream with marshmallows and nuts in her mouth. “I wuv dis kin of iceam.” We’re used to translating. Nothing stops Natalie from talking. She shoves the spoon back into her pint and fills it with more ice cream. She moves the spoon out of the pint, steadying it.

I place my hand over hers so she can’t shove any more into her mouth. “Predicament?” I say.

“Oh, yeah. Annabelle Moo-Moo loves her big sister more than anyone in the whole wide world.” Natalie spreads her arms wide, like Jesus on the cross. Her spoonful of ice cream falls to the floor. She picks it up and starts to toss it into the trash bag. When she sees the contents of the bag, she turns and dumps the ice cream into the decorative can. Natalie turns back and tell us, “And every night she calls me to tell me goodnight, that she loves me and I’m her favorite, and she wants to be just like me when she grows up, and she always wants to know when I’m gonna come over and spend the night with her. Oh, and that she wants to take me for show-and-tell at her school, and, drum roll please…”

Vianna and I tap our thighs and roll our tongues, it’s the best we can do.

Natalie takes a deep breath in. “Annabelle Moo-Moo thinks I’m even prettier than her mommy.” Natalie bows and curtsies for us. “Take that, Stephanie!”

“Pretty soon you’ll be sharing a room with that little girl.” Vianna sits down at her desk and takes the lid off of her desert. She takes a bite, then sets it down. Vianna grabs the photo of her and her dad when she was not more than six or seven. She’s holding the huge CU pendant and sitting in his lap. His lips are attached to her cheek and both eyes are on the camera. They look so happy.

Natalie looks at me, and then at our friend, and them back at me. “Um. No. I’m not living in the same house as that woman. But I think it’s funny how Stephanie’s little game backfired—
huge
. She wanted to make her daughter afraid of me. The kid loves me.” Natalie looks down at her watch. “And, speaking of the kid, I promised her a story tonight. I should go, but I will stay if you need me, Vianna.”

Vianna sets the picture down and shakes her head. She stands, then walks back to her wall and carefully pulls at the tacks that hold up her CU pendant.

Natalie touches Vianna’s hand. “The pendants need to go back up. They are who
you
are. Not who he is. Don’t let his bullshit wife change you. Make college your number-one focus. Trust me, you take the shit that they’re most jealous of and use it against them. In the end, you’ll come out come out winning.”

Natalie won’t admit it, but I think she’s getting more out of her baby sister than the revenge she dishes out.

The day after her explosion, Vianna decided to take charge of her world. Vianna, without telling anyone but her mom, had applied to the University of Nebraska, with mass communications as her major. She received the acceptance letter weeks ago but hadn’t made a decision. Now our timid girlfriend will be a Husker.

The main colors in her room change to the color of an apple. The stickers on her car match the color of her room and include the Husker mascot, Herbie. A large red flag with an N flies on her front porch.

Not only did Vianna decide where she’s going, she declared her major. Vianna, the senior in our group, had planned to attend CU or Mines. She had been accepted to both schools. The University of North Carolina accepted her, too. Vianna’s dad wants her to study medicine. Since the divorce, or really since his marriage to her stepmom, Vianna has done everything to make her father happy. Now my friend is going to make herself happy, which is way cool.