Rule #9 (18 page)

“Wait,” Jack touches my arm. I face him. He leans his forehead into mine. When he does this I melt. “Girl, you’re the one who told your daddy I had tasty lips.”

“I told my dad I wanted to meet your lips.” I pull back and pout.

“A rooster gonna come sit on that lip of yours.” He leans in again, his nose almost touching mine. “He was killing me at practice. Running me every day, laps and laps, then more laps. I had to lay loose.”

“With Sidney?”

“What are you talking about?” Jack backs away.

“My dad thinks you’re taking her to homecoming.”

Jack’s laughs through his nose. “No thank you. I heard that she’s going with that Blake guy.”

I bite my lip but this time to keep from smiling. Then I allow myself to breathe. Really breathe. I’m going to stop worrying and take chances. I let go of my lip and the giggle escapes, I can feel my eyes light up.

Jack moves closer. His forehead still touches mine and his lips are all I can focus on. “The only person I’m spending time with tomorrow is you.” His lips press against mine and our eyes close. “Tasty lips,” he says.

He has no idea.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Jack and I don’t attend the homecoming dance the next day. He keeps telling me we can go, but I’m not that into it. My dad has volunteered to chaperone, something the football coaches do. Alicia promises to keep my father in line. I’d actually love to see her achieve that feat. But Jack has other plans. Other plans sound more fun.

Lily drops off an outfit for me to wear on my and Jack’s first official date, our homecoming. Her only comment: “Make sure the shirt gets dirty. You’ll want it for a souvenir.” Like I’m supposed to know what that means.

I don’t know where we’re going or what we’re doing. This is driving me mad. My outfit for the evening festivities consists of a black t-shirt from Target and used jean overalls. One of the buckles on the bib won’t stay fastened, so I just let it flop. The tags left on the overalls reveal the denim came from Jillian’s Second Time Around. Gaby is in on this. I’m surprised there aren’t shoes to match. I slip on my black high-tops and enter the kitchen.

“Hijita.” Mr. Morales looks up from a large pot of soup.

“That smells good, Benny. What is it?”

My father’s head snaps at my words. My dad looks at me, and then to Mr. Morales.

“What?” I ask, looking at my father, and then I turn to Benny. Who knows what I’m doing wrong now.

Benny shrugs. Maybe Benny’s in trouble.

“She—” my father points at me. “The teenager—
she’s
allowed to call you Benny? And I, the adult, need to call you Mr. Morales? Perfect.”

I turn on one heel and leave the room. I don’t go far. I want to hear the exchange. I just don’t want my presence known. A trait from my mom: it’s not a good one. She knows it and I know it, but it doesn’t make it better. We still eavesdrop.

“I told you, Joel, you can call me Dad, Papa, Padre. You didn’t like any of those. You chose Mr. Morales.”

“You’re not my dad,” my father agues. “Why does she get to call you Benny?” Wow, my dad is acting like a spoiled little brat. I’d like to get this on tape and use it at a later date when he’s accusing me of doing the same.

“And what would you suggest your daughter call me? Grandpa? She’s not comfortable with that,” Benny says, his voice calm and soft.

My father doesn’t answer. It’s not like he can go off on his father-in-law. I wish I could see my father’s face. I shouldn’t have left the room. But then again, what if they decide I should call Benny grandpa? Then I’m screwed. Maybe I should leave.

“You want it all, Joel. You want your daughter to accept your new life, including your new family, yet you don’t even know where you stand in all of it. Your daughter has a mother and, from what you’ve shared, Kristin’s a fantastic mother. But you and I, we’ve made mistakes. Trust me, healing takes time.”

Wow. I stand there waiting for my dad to respond. He doesn’t. Benny stands firm and on my side. Or at least he’s willing to let me be me. He’s not going to push me into anything. He gets it. In fact, I think gets me.

I walk back into the kitchen like I haven’t heard anything. I want to see my father’s reaction. Benny puts his arm around me. “Patience and love. We just need to figure out who the dragons are in our lives. Right, Mazzie?”

I look at my dad, tilt my head, and cock my eyebrow, waiting for an answer. Because I don’t think this question is actually for me. And if it is, I don’t care. My father’s the one who messed everything up to begin with.

Now it’s his turn to leave the room, which he does.

“By the way, I never told him he couldn’t call me Benny,” Mr. Morales whispers.

The pot is filled with meatballs and potatoes, smelling of mint. The aroma fills the room. Before I leave for my date, Benny fills a warm tortilla with the mixture. I dip the tortilla into a bowl of the hot liquid, as Benny instructs.

“I think I need to bring Jack back for food,” I say.

Jack’s truck remains in Kentucky. His stepmom will drive it to Colorado in the spring when she and his dad move here. He won’t tell me what he drives. Which means it’s probably a Ford. I need to tell to tell him I can’t date a boy who drives a Ford. Sorry, but once a Chevy girl, always a Chevy girl.

#

Jack isn’t wearing overalls. He sports a pair of worn stonewashed jeans with rips in several places. His t-shirt is black. Matching homecoming outfits.

I’ve picked up my date before, but I’ve never brought him home to eat dinner with the family. Not on purpose anyway.

Did I just call them family? And why am I bringing him back here?

“This might be better than a Hot Brown,” Jack says taking a huge bite of his tortilla.

“What’s a Hot Brown?” Benny asks.

“The best dang sandwich on this side of the Mississippi,” Jack says.

“I’d like to try it,” Benny says.

“When my daddy and Sissy move back, we’ll have ya over,” Jack says.

“Where are you taking my Mazzie tonight?” Benny asks.

“I think I should be asking those questions.” My father inserts himself into the conversation. His smile is hard like the one he uses on the field when his team is losing.

“Massie and I are going to make a vase, Mr. Coach Trask.” Jacks waits for a response. He looks at my dad, then at Benny, and then at me.

I don’t say anything.

Alicia puts her fork down and stands. “That sounds fun,” she says. She puts her hand on my dad’s shoulder and then reaches for his water glass. She takes it to the freezer, puts more ice in it, and then fills it with water. When she returns to the table, she kisses my dad on the forehead before returning his water glass.

He looks up her and smiles. When he looks at Jack he is calm. “Where do you make vases in Pine Gulch?”

“I’m taking her to the art place by the grocery store. We’re going to sculpt,” Jack says.

“You better be able to teach me. I tried to do that in middle school and failed miserably,” I said. “It was horrible. I tried to make a bowl. It was so bad, I didn’t bring it home.”

“I sculpt a little,” Benny says.

Alicia squints her eyes. “A little, Papi? Don’t let him fool you. His pottery is famous throughout New Mexico, Texas, and Colorado.” She pats her dad’s hand. She looks so proud of him.

Jack looks at Benny. “You should come with us, Mr. Morales.”

“Oh, no,” Benny says. “This is your date.”

“Oh, yes,” I pull at him. What am I thinking? Why am I begging Benny to come with us? The truth is I want him to come and I don’t know why.

The instructor/owner of the shop screams when Benny introduces himself. Her name is Bianca. She looks like she’s grandma-age but she’s pretty. She’s got that Goldie Hawn look but with dark hair. She’s wearing a black top and a colorful scarf as a skirt over leggings. The turquoise in her skirt matches the stones in her bulky silver necklace and bracelet. The rest of the colors in her scarf look like the blankets in Alicia’s living room. Her red ballet slippers are adorable and I’m wondering if I can get away with this look. Gaby would love it.

The shop is small and there isn’t much of an entrance. There are three different spaces that are separated by walls but no doors. I would like to go where the easels are set up, except that room is full of women drinking wine and laughing as the instructor teaches them to paint a tree that is the color of the rainbow. I could do that. The room in the middle has counter-height tables in it that nobody is using, and the room on the right is where the smell of earth lingers. That is where we will be hanging out.

I draw, I don’t sculpt. So my attempt to make a vase is hysterical. Just when I think I have it down, the vase droops, then slumps. Jack smirks and I toss a small ball of clay at him.

“I keep doing it the way you told me, but it doesn’t work,” I say.

“There’s more than one way to skin a cat. Keep trying.”

“You and your little sayings.” I knead the clay with the ball of my hand.

He tries to help me. He starts the molding of the vase and I try to finish it. Each time the vase tips over, he laughs. I pout and toss clay at this mean Southern boy. Jack then spreads clay on the back of my shirt.

Bianca watches Benny mold together a coffee cup. I can’t even make a simple vase and he has an opening with a handle.

I finally produce something that almost stands on its own. “My vase is lopsided.”

“Once you paint it, it’ll be fine. Nobody will know you didn’t want it that way unless ya tell them,” Jack says. “You know, I think it’s perfect. Kinda like you.” He pulls at the loop in my overalls.

Bianca lets us stay until ten thirty. We don’t finish our vases, but she invites us back to finish the work free of charge. “Any time you wanna come, as long as I’m here,” she says. Probably to score points with Benny more than anything. I watched her flirt with him all night. It was kind of cute.

Per Benny’s request, we drive him home first. This is either the nicest thing he’s done for me, or he’s tired or needs to get to bed. Either way, I’ll take it.

Afterward, Jack and I stand by my car in front of his sister’s house. “I had a really nice time,” I say.

Jack leans in. I love how his forehead touches mine and the way he looks into my eyes when he talks. His hand reaches the back of my neck and he pulls me close. Our lips touch. His eyes don’t close. “Be my girl?”

“Yes.”

“I love the way your nose scrunches like that,” he says. Then he pulls me closer. The perfect ending to my night.

That is, until I get home and pull my shirt off and find that the clay that Jack was wiping on my back is a heart with J+M inside it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I wake to a panicked call from Natalie. “The baby… Moo-Moo… Her breathing… She shook… They said she turned blue… They don’t know… She… Oh my God, Massie, they don’t know if she’s going to be okay.”

“Slow down.” Nothing she says makes any sense. “Where are you?”

“St. Francis Hospital, hurry,” Natalie says. “I’m scared. I can’t be here by myself.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Vianna,” Natalie says.

“I’ll pick her up on the way.”

Now I need my mom. I’m scared. I can’t find my keys. Wearing sweatpants, the t-shirt from the night before because I don’t think I’ll ever take it off, and flip flops, I rummage around the kitchen, pacing back and forth, looking through and over things, but not
at
anything. Finally I just stop. I can’t imagine a little girl dying.

Alicia walks into the room carrying her coffee cup. She stops when she sees me. I must look like an idiot just standing there staring at the counter. “Massie, what’s wrong?” she asks.

I find my voice but I doubt I make sense. “I can’t find my keys. Natalie’s at the hospital. Something happened to her sister and I need to pick up Vianna and take her there. I need my mom.” Then I move back and forth and around the counter rubbing the balls of my hands on the sides of my legs. Just standing there isn’t going to help me find my keys.

Alicia scans the kitchen. She pulls my keychain off the small rack on the wall. It was there the whole time, exactly where I put it. She places the keys in my palm and folds my hand around them, “You good to drive? I can go with you. I can take you there.”

“I’m fine. I can drive,” I say.

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I don’t have your number.” I pull my cell phone out. Alicia holds out her hand. I place the phone in it. She enters her number then says, “Get out of here.”

Then I walk toward the stairs to my room.

Alicia grabs her purse, then turns me around. She places me in the front seat of her white SUV. On our way to the hospital, she makes a few calls. She knows people at the hospital. She finds out that Annabelle is going to be fine. I guess being a social worker has perks. We stop at Vianna’s. Vianna is waiting out front when we arrive.

Vianna climbs into the car. “What happened?”

“I don’t know the whole story, but Moo-Moo is okay,” I say. “How was homecoming?” Now that I know Annabelle will be okay, I want details about the dance.

“Perfect,” Vianna sinks into her seat and rests her head back. “Hunter and Tyler took us to that nice Italian restaurant. Oh, Colby took that freshman girl to the dance, and then he hit on every other girl. Andrew was the life of the party. He had everyone doing a crazy running dance to Eighties music. We went to Pollywog’s after. They stayed open late for the homecoming crowd.”

Alicia drops us off and we head up to the third floor. We find Natalie sitting on the floor outside of the waiting room, alone. Natalie had gone over to her dad’s for breakfast per Annabelle’s request. Natalie’s dad prepared his famous omelets, which consisted of leftovers from the refrigerator. Annabelle had an allergic reaction to the shrimp and stopped breathing. By the time the paramedics roared in, Natalie had stabbed her sister with her own epipen. Natalie’s allergic to peanuts and bees. Natalie never goes anywhere without that pen.

Natalie tells us that after the pen stab, Stephanie screamed, “Natalie’s killing my baby! Stop her!”

“I need to get out of here,” Natalie stands. “That bitch told me I can’t see my sister.”

“Why?” I hold on to my friend’s hand.

“I gave Annabelle my food. She was hungry and she didn’t want to wait for her omelet. My omelet had the shrimp in it.” Natalie eyes scan the hall and lock onto Annabelle’s room, where her family gathers. Natalie’s brother Cameron slides his butt to the floor outside the room.

“Did you know she was allergic?” Vianna asks.

“Oh, I’m sure she did. You girls and your stupid jealousy.” Wendy, Vianna’s dad’s wife, shakes her ass as she passes by us.

“Nobody knew.” Natalie’s voice is barely audible.

Natalie’s mom shows up to seize her children. Her voice screeches down the hall, “Cameron, let’s go.” Natalie’s mom looks tired. And older than she is.

Cameron stands and shuffles toward his mom.

Natalie’s dad pokes his head out of the room.

Natalie’s mom points at her dad. “Get your sorry ass back in the room with your chunky wife. I’ve got
my
kids.”

Vianna’s stepmom appears.

“And get your plastic ass away from me,” Natalie’s mom snaps at Wendy.

Natalie tugs at her mom. “Come on, Mom, let’s go.”

Vianna leaves the hospital with Natalie. I stay. I can’t make either of them stay and with their stepmonsters. But Natalie needs someone here to keep her updated. Plus, I know a nurse. My mom’s best friend, Angelle, works on the fifth floor. She isn’t allowed to tell me anything, but if Annabelle’s condition worsens she’ll give me the hint that I need to contact Natalie.

I find a corner booth in the cafeteria. Away from the noise of clerks taking money from the doctors, nurses, and families of loved ones—most importantly, away from the stepmonsters. The salad I’ve chosen falls limp, but my fries stay crisp. To receive extra ranch dressing for my fries I need to place the dressing on the scale and pay $2.99 a pound for it. What a ripoff.

Jack stops by my dad’s and picks up my homework. He also brings the sketchbook and pencils. We doodle on the same sheet of paper. I sketch an Annabelle Moo-Moo Pollywog, her eyes big and blue. Blond curls fall around her face. Her smile, big and bright, forms a large dimple on her right cheek.

Jack sketches a lily pad under the pollywog, then adds the pond around the pad. More pads circle Annabelle Moo-Moo. Trees surround the ponds. The setting Jack creates for the Pollywog child appears warm and safe. The sun spotlights her.

In a booth close by I hear droning voices complain. Then I hear an irate voice: “Really? I can’t believe you two.”

“Is that Alicia?” I ask Jack in a whisper. He nods and leans back in the both so he can hear.

“What? I’m not losing to a spoiled little brat. Like the ex-wife thing isn’t enough,” another woman grumbles.

“Tell me about ex-wives. Try following a New York Times bestselling author. Kind soul! Does no wrong, looks like she’s thirty when she’s fifty,
bee-yoch
.” The voice is unmistakably of Vianna’s stepmom, Wendy. “I bet her boobs sag. That’s why she’s always complaining about mine.”

Oh, that must make the gelatin boob sensation feel better. Note to self: I found a name for the fake boob thing. Gelatin Sensation. Tell Vianna.

“Let me ask you a question.” I hear Alicia’s voice take over the conversation. “What do you see in Annabelle’s future?”

“Good things,” Stephanie says. “I hope. They say she’s going to be fine. I can’t imagine my life without her.” Her voice cracks.

“Do you see her knowing that she has a strong family who loves each another?” Alicia doesn’t give Stephanie time to answer. “Or do you see her alone without siblings? Who will she turn to when you and Peter are gone?” Natalie’s dad didn’t want more kids. Annabelle will be their only child together.

A short silence fills the table.

Then Stephanie speaks: “I won’t. She’ll have…” She obviously can’t formulate her thoughts into words, let alone a sentence.

“Natalie saved her life,” Alicia softly reminds her.

“If she wouldn’t have given her the omelet—” Wendy tries to cut in.

“Shut up, Wendy.” Alicia’s tone remains firm. “Those girls who hate us so much are just that—girls. Get over yourself. Damn. I’ve never met women as pathetic as the two of you. And I barely know you. I don’t blame those girls for hating you.”

“What about you? Why does Massie hate you if you are so perfect?” Wendy asks.

I sink in my seat. I’ve never told Jack my feelings about my stepmom, fearing that he’d hate me. Since my stepmom is his sister’s best friend, he has to take her side, right? Jack slides his hand across the table and I place my hand in his. He doesn’t say anything, he just squeezes.

“Because she’s scared of losing her dad. Because I came into the picture and she lost all hope of her parents reuniting. Because she’s afraid that I’ll have a baby who’ll replace her. Because she thinks I’m trying to replace her mom,” Alicia says.

“She needs to get over it,” Wendy announces. “Do you think you’re going to have a baby right away? I don’t want to get fat but it does give you power over them.” I envision Stephanie nodding her head in agreement like she’s at some church ceremony yelling an
amen
.

Alicia huffs, “You’re pathetic. Massie’s the child. I’m the adult. I need to live with it. I’m the one that needs to prove to her that I’m not here to take anyone’s place. She has a mom. Her dad needs to remind her that he loves her no matter what. And not that it’s any of your business, but even if I could have a baby. Which I can’t…” Alicia pauses. “…that baby would never take Massie’s place. My
child
—if I could have a child, he or she would be lucky as hell to have Massie as a sister.” And with that, the silence blankets their table and mine.

I look at the paper attached to my tea bag. “Forgiving allows our souls to breathe.”