Access Denied (and other eighth grade error messages) (12 page)

“EVERYONE WEARS THE UGLY BOWLING shoes, Erin. It’s part of the fun and nobody cares.” Jilly pulled open the doors to Donna’s
Bowl & Billiards on Friday afternoon. My mom was parking the car and the boys hadn’t arrived yet so we had a little reprieve
before the Let’s Embarrass Erin show.

“
You
don’t care?” This seemed strange coming from Jilly the Fashionista.

“It’s bowling,” Jilly said, “No one’s looking at your feet because they’re too busy seeing how bad you play.” As we stepped
inside the bowling alley, she gave me the once over. “I’ve never seen you so obsessed about your appearance before. How many
outfits did you try on?”

“Six,” I confessed, glancing toward the counter where the dreaded bowling shoes were lined up in cubbies.

“Erin Swift tried on
six
outfits? I can’t believe it.” Jilly shook her head. “Let me guess. This one was the first you tried on.”

“Second,” I said, tugging my double tank tops down over my jeans.

Jilly’s eyes dropped briefly to my chest before returning to my face. “You look hot,” she said. “Blake will be so distracted,
he’ll throw gutter balls.”

I laughed. “I doubt that. He’s pretty competitive.” But it made me feel good anyway. I turned to the counter. “Come on, let’s
get the shoes on and find a lane before they get here.”

When the boys showed up, my mom was sitting in one of the seats in our lane, looking a little too comfortable. I introduced
her to Blake and she shook his hand warmly.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she said. “Have you and Jon been friends a long time?”

Blake shook his head. “We met at a soccer camp over the summer and found out we were both going to Washington High School.”

“Okay, mom,” I said, tugging at her shirt. “Mrs. Hennessey will pick us up later. Thanks for the ride.”

“I can take a hint,” my mom said, winking at Blake. Oh,
please. Could you be any more embarrassing in front of a hottie I’m just getting to know and would like to get to know better
if you don’t ruin it by being a dork
?

“Did you have to wink?” I asked when we were out of earshot. “Nobody winks anymore, Mom. It’s really stupid.”

Her face fell. “I’m sorry,” she said, then pushed out the door without saying good-bye.

I flicked away a niggle of guilt and hurried back to the group. The three of them were sitting in the chairs while the boys
put their shoes on. “Sorry about that,” I said. “She’s a little—well, I’m not sure what she is exactly.”

Everyone laughed, which made me feel better.

“Don’t worry about it,” Blake said. “Moms are supposed to be a little strange.”

I smiled as I set up our game on the overhead board.

Bus Boy looked around before leaning over and kissing Jilly. They kept kissing so I turned away.

“Are you two going to bowl or get a room?” Blake asked, unzipping a bag I hadn’t noticed before.

“You brought your own ball?” I put my hands on my hips.

“And his own shoes,” Jilly said, pointing to Blake’s feet. He had a nice pair of black shoes that looked like basic athletic
shoes, not the ugly tan and red shoes we were wearing.

“No fair,” I said.

Bus Boy turned to Jilly and me. “His mom bowls in a league and he bowls on Wii Sports so that makes him an expert.”

“He has his own ball, Jon,” Jilly said. “I think this goes beyond the Wii.”

“It’s probably his mom’s,” Bus Boy said, picking up several balls from the rack before settling on a green one with black
specks.

“It’s mine, bro,” Blake said, pulling out a glossy blue ball. “See?” He held it out. Engraved near the holes in neat script
was his name:
Blake Thornton.
He placed it on the ball return next to the standard black one I’d chosen. My ball looked slumped and weary next to his.

“I think we’re in trouble,” I said to Jilly, and she nodded.

“He’s just trying to psyche us out,” Bus Boy said, then turned to Blake. “I’m going to beat your sorry bowling butt.”

“You bowl with your butt?” I asked Blake. “You must be very talented.”

Blake laughed. I could get used to hearing that laugh. He caught my eye and my heart fluttered. Then he smiled mischievously.

I looked from him to his ball, then back at him. “Payback for foosball?”

“You know it, babe.”

Blake dominated all of us, scoring over 200 every game. My high game was 125, Jilly’s was 110 and Bus Boy’s was 165.

“Want me to bowl with my butt?” Blake asked Bus Boy. “Make it a little more even?”

“You got lucky,” Bus Boy said, unlacing his shoes. “Wait till next time.”

We all laughed and decided to grab some burgers at a restaurant a few blocks away.

“I’ll tell my mom to pick us up there,” Jilly said, pulling out her cell phone. She and Bus Boy walked several feet ahead
of us, each with a hand tucked into the other’s back pocket. I marveled at how comfortable Jilly acted with Bus Boy. Sure
she got jealous and insecure but she could touch him and kiss him in public no problem. I couldn’t see myself ever doing that
with anyone. I smiled as Bus Boy complained—loudly, over his shoulder—about Blake’s win.

“Just admit you suck, Lanner,” Blake called.

“I admit nothing,” Bus Boy said. “Next time, you’re going down.”

“In bowling history, maybe,” Blake said, and I cracked up.

“You really are good,” I said. “I wish I could play like that.”

“You could if you practiced,” Blake said. “You’ve got a natural delivery; you just turn your wrist at the last second. That’s
why the ball goes off to the side.” He reached for my wrist and held it in both of his hands, flicking it back and forth.
“See, if you can keep it straight all the way through,” he said, pulling my hand back, “you’ll have a straighter aim at the
pins.” He carried my hand forward to demonstrate, then brought it down to his side.

“That makes sense,” I said, waiting for him to let go. He didn’t. He held onto my wrist as we walked and I wondered if it
looked as weird as it felt to have someone holding your wrist instead of your hand. And then suddenly his hand was around
mine, squeezing gently. I squeezed back, feeling the sweat between our palms—was it his or mine?

“Want some gum?” I asked.

“Sure.” He looked relieved and I wondered if he was feeling as awkward as I was. But how could he? He was a hot blond high
school boarder boy and I was just a middle school computer geek.

I handed him a stick of Doublemint before taking one for myself. He told me he had been bowling since he could hold a ball—“like
you with foosball”—and I told him how I had to learn soccer and basketball to avoid being creamed by my brother.

Blake laughed. “I see your brother at school sometimes. He seems pretty cool.”

“He can be,” I said. “If you’re not related to him.”

We walked a little further, our pace slowing so that the distance between us and Jilly and Bus Boy grew. As we passed a house
with a lot of overgrown bushes and trees, Blake grabbed my arm and pulled me off the sidewalk and behind a hedge. My heart
bounced wildly in my chest as he gripped my shoulders, his eyes peering into mine. We stared at each other, our noses and
lips several inches apart, before Blake closed his eyes and leaned toward me.

I felt his lips—slightly rough and chapped—against my own. I kissed him back, hesitantly at first, unsure of what I was doing.
But when he didn’t pull away, and instead wrapped his arms around me, I relaxed. I reached my own arms around his neck and
kept kissing him, moving my mouth with his. Then our mouths opened at the same time and I smelled his breath, Doublemint fresh
with just a hint of the candy bar he’d gotten from the vending machine at the bowling alley.

Our mouths opened wider and I felt his tongue roam over mine. But before I could respond, I started gagging and choking.

Blake pulled away quickly. “My gum!”

I nodded, hitting my chest to release both wads from the back of my throat. They popped forward and I gasped, sucking in a
few breaths and coughing.

“Are you okay?” Blake looked concerned as he patted my back awkwardly.

I nodded and pulled out the gum, holding it up between us. We both stared at the connected wads for a moment, then looked
at each other and busted out laughing.

“Want your gum back?” I asked between gasps.

Blake shook his head. “You keep it,” he said. “Consider it a gift.”

“How thoughtful.” I rolled the gum wad into a dirty ball and wrapped it in one of the gum wrappers I’d stuffed into my pocket.

“Are you two going to eat with us or get a room?” Bus Boy’s voice startled me. He and Jilly stood on the sidewalk; Jilly had
her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised.

Bus Boy glanced at the bush. “Oh, I see that instead of a room, you got a hedge.”

My cheeks warmed and I pushed past them all to the sidewalk. “I’m hungry.”

“Worked up a little appetite, Erin?” Jilly asked as she fell into step beside me. She grabbed my arm and leaned toward me
so her lips were practically inside my ear. “Were you guys making out?”

“Jilly!” The boys were only a few feet behind. Couldn’t we talk about this later? But she was looking at me with such eagerness,
I had to give her something. “We kissed,” I whispered.

She squealed and squeezed my arm. “I knew it!”

“But not for long,” I said. “I practically choked on his gum.”

Jilly looked at me. “What?” Then she laughed and shook her head.

“I know,” I said. “Only
I
would choke on the guy’s gum the first time we make out.”

“At least you’ll remember it,” Jilly said, tucking her arm through mine.