Blade Silver: Color Me Scarred (10 page)

I thank Abby for the ride and promise to e-mail her after I get
home from my date with Glen, that is, assuming I get to go. "Either
way, I'll let you know," I say.

"Good luck!"

I hurry into the house, taking my bag straight to my bedroom.
I quickly remove the tags, put away the clothes, then stash the bag
way back in my closet to deal with later. It's almost five and I figure I
might have time to do a few things to help butter up my dad. I start
by making chocolate-chip cookies, his favorite, even chopping and
adding walnuts just the way he likes them. I check to see if he ate
his tuna sandwich. It's gone. A good sign.

Then I go around and straighten up our already spotless house.
Everything looks pretty good. I don't see anything that should set
him off. As bad as I feel about having Caleb gone, at least I don't
need to worry that lie's left his muddy soccer shoes by the back door
or something. Even so, I check, just to be sure. Then I go outside and actually sweep off the walk and pull a couple of stray weeds
from the bare flower bed. I absently wonder who will plant flowers
this year. Mom always did that in the past, and I sure can't imagine
her doing it now. Maybe we'll just go without flowers this year. It
seems fitting.

I go back inside and start getting ready for my date. The house
smells good from the plate of still-warm cookies that I've placed
very visibly in the center of the kitchen counter. But now I'm starting to worry What if Dad doesn't come home in time for me to get
permission to go out tonight? What do I do then?

I slip on the new jeans and stand before the full-length mirror
to admire how perfectly they fit from all sides. I'm tempted to wear
the new blue T-shirt too, with a jacket over it, of course. But what
if I get too hot? I'll be stuck wearing a jacket all night long. Besides
that, I think this blue T-shirt should be incentive to reach my nomore-cutting goal. I will wear it when my scars have faded and after
I've managed to get tan enough to cover them up. Maybe I'll even
try some self-tanning cream, if I can keep it from looking streaky
and fake.

Finally I decide on a long-sleeved black T-shirt that looks pretty
good with my new jeans. I put on silver hoop earrings and minimal
makeup, since I don't think I look good with too much anyway.
Also, it really bugs my dad. And I don't need him calling me any bad
names or sending me off to wash my face-tonight of all nights.

I look outside. Still no sign of Dad. I realize that I haven't heard
a peep from my mom, not that it's so unusual for her. But what if
something is wrong? What if she did it again, tried to kill herself, I
mean? Or what if something happened to Caleb? Feeling seriously
freaked, I hurry to Mom's room, knock on the door, and then go
in. But there she is, just sitting in her glider rocker, the homely old afghan around her shoulders, and a blank stare on her face. The
blank expression is quickly replaced with one of surprise.

"Sorry to burst in on you like this," I say, "but I wondered where
Dad is."

"He went out."

"Did he say where?"

She seems to think about this, almost as if she's not sure or can't
remember. "He's looking for Caleb," she finally says. But she shows
no emotion. Shouldn't she be concerned that her fourteen-year-old
son is missing? And does she have any idea that he's with her own
mother? Her mother, who she hasn't seen in months? Apparently
not. I'm not about to tell her either. After all, I promised Caleb I
wouldn't tell Dad. And there's no telling whether our mother could
keep that a secret. She's not exactly reliable these days.

"Well, I was going to go out ... " I begin, wondering why I'm
even bothering.

"Just leave a note."

"Okay." I slowly nod. "That's what I'll do." And so I go out and
write a note to Dad. I tell him that I already talked to Mom and she
said to leave him a note-like that will get me off the hook. Then I
tell him that I'm going to a movie with Glen (it's no use to lie; he'll
just find out and then be really angry), and I tell him when I'll be
back and that I hope he likes his cookies.

I even sign it "love Ruth" and draw another stupid happy face.
Man, I am so pathetic. But, hey, whatever it takes, right?

IT'S A GOOD THING I PUT ON PLENTY OF DEODORANT EARLIER, BECAUSE I AM
seriously beginning to sweat. I feel like I'm about to pull off some
big heist or something. Really, should life be this difficult? This
complicated? I'm sure most girls don't have to jump through this
many hoops just to go see a movie with a guy. I mean, it's not like
we're even serious or anything.

I hear a car pull up. I can tell it's not Dad's pickup because it's
not that noisy. To my relief, it's Glen. And instead of letting him get
all the way up the walk and into the house, I dash out and meet him
midway.

"No one's home," I announce, as if that explains everything.

"You ready to go then?"

I smile at him, hoping to appear casual and relaxed. "Yeah. Sure."

I start to breathe more easily after we're a few blocks away from
my house. And that's when I realize I AM ON A REAL DATE. Suddenly
I'm a whole new kind of nervous. But at least it's kind of a happy
nervous. Not an I'm-about-to-be-yelled-at nervous. Even so, I really
don't want to blow things with Glen.

So now I'm wondering-what do you say on a date? Like is
there some special way I should talk? And how should I act? I mean,
do I wait for him to open doors the way my mom used to do for my dad? He did open the door to his car for me at my house. But what
about when we get to the theater? And just because he asked me
out, does it mean that he pays for everything tonight? Or do we go
dutch? Why did I ever agree to go out in the first place? It's making
me into a freaking basket case.

Then I look over at him. He is so cute. And we really do have a
lot in common. Then I realize that he actually seems a little nervous
too. Could it be?

"I have to admit that I haven't really dated much," I tell him,
deciding that honesty might be the best policy for me tonight. Who
knows, maybe it will help me to not look so stupid if I'm just upfront
about things.

"Don't feel bad. I haven't really dated much either. In fact, I've
never even had a real girlfriend. And I'm seventeen. Is that pathetic
or what?"

I laugh. "No, I think it's kind of nice. The truth is, I haven't had
a real boyfriend either."

"Is it because of stuff with your family?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I mean, my life's complicated already. Why
add to it, you know?" Of course, as soon as I say this, I realize it
could sound like I'm not interested in him or that I think he's a
complication. Not exactly the message I wanted to send.

"I know what you mean."

"Not that I want my life to continue like this," I say quickly. "I'm
ready for some changes, even if I have to bring them on myself."
I don't tell him that my dad could be going totally ballistic by the
time I get home tonight. I'm glad I didn't mention in my note exactly
which theater or movie we were going to, since it wouldn't surprise
me if Dad showed up and told me to come home. Okay, maybe that's
too extreme. He wouldn't want to make a scene like that in public. Even so, who knows what I'll face when I get home?

"Change is good," he says as he pulls into the newest theater
complex. This is the biggest complex in town, and it would be difficult to find anyone in here.

I'm not sure whether I should wait for him to open my door or not,
but something in me says to just get out. I mean, how embarrassing
would it be if I just sat there and he never came around to open it?

We make small talk as we walk toward the theater. Mostly about
last night's art fair and how well it went. I try not to think about
how I flipped out when Glen tried to push my sleeve up. Hopefully,
he has forgotten all about that. I'm sure he must think I'm fairly
neurotic anyway.

He gets in line and I stand next to him, but when we get to the
ticket booth, he steps in front of me and purchases two tickets. So,
at least I know that's how it goes. One less thing to worry about.
Then he asks what I want from the concessions, and I boldly tell
him that the popcorn smells pretty good.

"And to drink?" he asks.

"Sierra Mist?" This is weird and foreign to me. And I know how
expensive theater food is. Maybe I shouldn't ask for anything. But
the truth is, I haven't eaten anything but a couple of chocolate-chip
cookies and milk since lunchtime, and I'm kind of hungry. I go and
save us a place in the movie line, and before long, Glen is coming
my way, carrying one huge bucket of popcorn and two big drinks.

"Thanks," I tell him. As I take my drink, the line starts to
move, and before long we're seated in the semidark theater. And as
we watch the ads and previews, sharing from the same bucket of
popcorn, I actually start to relax.

The movie turns out to be so-so, but we go out for coffee afterward and enjoy totally tearing it apart. It seems we both have strong ideas on what makes a good film. But then I notice the time, remembering that I promised to be home by eleven.

"I kind of have a curfew," I tell Glen. "We should probably go."

"No problem." He smiles at me. "This has been really fun
tonight, Ruth."

And so we're driving to my house, and I'm thinking this really
has been fun, but now I might have to pay the price for all this fun. Or
is it possible that this is really my lucky night and my dad has gone
out for the evening, either to jimmy's or The Dark Horse Tavern?

But there his truck is, sitting like a giant red watchdog in our
driveway. "You don't need to walk me to the door," I say, glancing at
the darkened house to make sure my dad's not lurking somewhere,
watching us from between the slits in the blinds.

"Your dad?" he asks.

I nod and reach for the door handle. "Yeah, this is where the
whole dating thing gets a little complicated." Then I force a smile.
"But I had a really great time tonight, Glen. Thanks so much!"

He looks a little worried, like he's concerned for my welfare or
something. "You'll be okay, won't you?"

"Sure. My dad's bark is way worse than his bite." I keep the
smile in place. "And, who knows, he might not even bark tonight. I
mean, he's met you and he actually seemed to like you." But even as
I say this, I know how my dad can put on an act.

Glen seems encouraged by this. "Yeah, your dad seemed cool
with everything last night."

"See ya," I say lightly as I get out of the car. "And thanks again.
I had fun."

Okay, I wish things were different. I wish he could walk me to
the door. Maybe linger a bit, and maybe even kiss me good-night.
But while these things may be possible-even for a girl like me-it will probably take time. I need to break my dad into this dating
thing slowly, carefully.

I wave to Glen from the front step as he backs out of the driveway, then I quietly open the door and go inside. The lights are off
and I think this is kind of odd. But then maybe he's gone to bed. It's
possible.

"Where have you been?" His voice booms from the direction of
the couch that's in front of the window. I was right. He's been sitting
there watching the driveway all the while, just waiting for nee to
come home so he could lay into me.

I consider turning on a light, then decide that darkness might
be better. "I left you a note," I tell him in what I hope is a calmsounding voice-no traces of guilt to give him something to latch
on to.

"A note? You think you can just leave me a note then take off,
doing who knows what with who knows who, and everything will
be okay?"

"Mom suggested-"

"Your mom's out of her head, Ruth! You do not go to your mom
for permission to do things you know good and well I will not allow
you to do."

"But you weren't here-"

"That's no excuse!" I hear him standing now. "You know that you
went behind my back, Ruth. You and your stupid brother-you're
both no good. You're both just a couple of good-for-nothing halfbreeds who would stab your own father in the back if you got the
chance."

His words continue to pummel me, like dull but painful bullets
that can't break the skin, but they cut through the heart. It's halfbreed that I'm stuck on. As best I can remember, he's never used that one before. And the way he said it, spitting it out like it tasted
nasty in his mouth, I am sure he meant it. That he believes it. And
suddenly I can't take anymore. But instead of saying anything,
instead of defending myself, I turn and walk away.

You do not walk away when I'm talking to you, young lady!"
He's in a real rage now. His footsteps arc coming up behind me, but
I run faster, down the hallway and straight to my room. I close the
door and then lean against it breathlessly. My heart pounds with as
much force as my father pounds against my door as he commands
me to come out.