Blue Eyes and Other Teenage Hazards (2 page)

I didn’t think about what I said next; it just came out of my mouth in a moment of spontaneous goodwill. “We should stop by the Benson’s house after school and welcome Elise to the neighborhood. I could make some cookies for her family.” Samantha shrugged and glanced at her friends. “Sorry. I have cheerleading practice after school.”

“That’s okay. We can wait until cheerleading practice is over. After all, it will take me a while to bake cookies.”

“Ummm,” Samantha said, clearly searching for an excuse to skip out on being friendly.

I pressed her anyway. If both of us went it would look more like a neighborly thing and less like a Cassidy-is-desperate-for-a-new-friend sort of thing. “Come over to my house at four o’clock and we’ll walk over together.”

“Fine,” Samantha said, then didn’t say anything else. None of the cheerleaders did, either. They were waiting for me to leave.

“Okay. See you later.” I spun on my heel. Literally. I had forgotten I was wearing shoes with heels so high they prevented all natural movement, and when I turned, I lost my balance.

The tight skirt didn’t help matters. I took a lunging step to steady myself. Or rather, I tried to steady myself. The skirt didn’t allow for lunges, so I ended up taking a stumbling step that did nothing but quicken my decent to the floor. My books went flying in all directions. I heard a ripping sound that was either my skirt or the tendons in my leg. At that point it was all a blur.

To Samantha’s credit, she helped me up. She was laughing as she said, “Are you all right?” but at least she helped me.

“I’m fine,” I said. And I was. Unless you counted my pride, the slit in my skirt that was now considerably longer than it had been, or the stinging in my palms from where I’d hit the floor.

The other cheerleaders gathered my books for me. My biology book had slid over to Chad and Mike’s table. Chad picked it up and handed it to perky blonde cheerleader named Chelsea.

It was my book though, and Chad had picked it up. I could even say with confidence that he’d noticed me, since he was eyeing me over. Which, if I was being really technical, was Operation Chad’s first success.

After school I made chocolate chip cookies for the Bensons. I had told Samantha to meet at my house at four o’clock, but at four fifteen she still hadn’t come. Apparently cheerleading practice had run long or Samantha had found some more important thing to do—like anything.

I didn’t want to go over to the Benson’s by myself, but I wanted to meet Elise, and what else was I going to do with two dozen cookies? I waited until four thirty, then headed over.

My father always said that when you make a wish and send it out into the universe, the universe conspires with you to make it happen. I had never believed him. I’d wished for a horse from the time I was three, and so far the universe had done very little in the way of helping out in that regard. But as I walked to Elise’s house, I not only sent a wish out, I struck a bargain.

I wanted Elise to have a good sense of humor. And be smart. And be nice. And not be a drama queen. That wasn’t a big order, was it? But if that was asking too much then I would settle for smart and nice. In return, I would be kind to any and all new students for the rest of my life.

After I rang the bell, a thirteen-ish boy with unruly black hair opened the door. He looked at me unconcerned. “Yeah?”

“Hi,” I said. “I’m one of your neighbors. Is Elise home?”

“Yeah.” He held the door open, and I walked into what used to be Anjie’s living room. It looked all wrong without the Lopez’s black couches and marble coffee table. The tan walls seemed scuffed and forlorn. Stacks of boxes and miscel aneous furniture cluttered the floor.

The boy eyed my plate of cookies. “Hey, are those for me?”

“For your family. You can have one if your mom says—”

At this he grabbed a cookie, tilted back his head and yelled, “Elise! There’s someone here to see you!” It was so loud she must have heard it, but there was no reply.

The boy then grabbed another cookie off the plate. With his mouth full he told me, “My parents aren’t home right now, but they’d let me have two.” Then he ran upstairs. I stood alone and waited.

A giant German shepherd trotted into the room. He stopped when he saw me.

I’ve always liked dogs. At least little ones. Little dogs are better because if a Yorkshire terrier suddenly thinks he’s a wolf and you’re a deer, or if he mistakes you for a fleeing criminal, or if he just thinks you look tasty, he’s probably not going to do a lot of damage. German shepherds are different. And mutatedly large German shepherds are enough to make anybody’s plate of cookies tremble.

“hello there, doggy,” I said. “I hope you’re a nice dog.”

He surveyed me intently.

At this point certain questions ran through my mind: Where is everyone in this family? and Why hasn’t Elise shown up?

I took a step toward the door. “Nice doggy. Why don’t you find a cat to chase?” His eyes never left my face. He didn’t growl, but he didn’t wag his tail, either. He moved toward me, sniffing.

I took another step backward. The dog took several more forward. Then his gaze fixed on the plate and he licked his lips. I held the cookies up over my head. I could tell he was calculating whether he could reach them if he jumped.

“Stay, doggy. Sit, doggy.”

He heaved himself up and put his paws on my shoulders. I had to take a step back to keep from being knocked over. I was nearly pressed up against the wall.

“Down, doggy! Down!”

He didn’t move. Instead he barked at the plate.

I was just about to let him have the plate and flee from the house, when I heard a teenage girl say, “Goliath! Down!” The dog dropped to all fours and wagged his tail.

“Bad dog! No eating the guests!” She looked at me, nonchalantly. “Sorry about that.” Elise was tall with long, dark hair and blue eyes. She looked athletic, tan, and pretty—not the sort of person Samantha would avoid. Elise wore shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops even though the weather had turned cool. Apparently she was in autumn denial.

A few of the cookies had nearly slid off the plate. I pushed them back into the center. “That’s all right. He didn’t get any.” I held the plate out to her. “I’m Cassidy Woodruff. I live down the street.”

“Thanks.” She didn’t take the cookies from me. “I’m thrilled to be here.” It was clear she wasn’t.

I shifted my weight, awkwardly. “Pull man is a nice place.”

She looked at me like I had to be joking. “Does Pull man even have a mall?”

“Not really.”

“A Seven- Eleven?”

“No.”

“A Burger King?”

“We have a McDonald’s.”

Elise plopped down on a couch. “Great. At least I won’t be without my Happy Meals.” I suddenly understood why Samantha hadn’t been eager to meet Elise. Somehow, Samantha had known what Elise was like. Rude.

Condescending. Not at all what I had ordered from the universe. I smiled in an attempt to be gracious.

The dog went and lay at Elise’s feet. I still stood there holding the cookies and wondered if I was supposed to sit down.

Elise said, “Where do you guys do your clothes shopping, anyway?”

“Moscow, Idaho, is only eight miles away. Mostly we go there.”

“You go to another state to shop?” Elise tossed her head back against the couch. “For this I had to give up my friends, eighty-degree weather, beaches, mega malls, pool parties, and Holl ywood?”

How could I compete with Holl ywood? “Well, at least we don’t have any earthquakes.” Elise ignored this helpful evaluation. “My parents thought the small-town atmosphere would be good for the family.” She picked up a pile of dish towels that lay on the couch and moved them to an end table. “They thought it would be a good place to move their stupid office-supply store. A brilliant financial decision, since offices are obviously so plentiful here.” Pull man was a university town—home of Washington State University and Schweitzer Labs. The population was almost thirty thousand, but twenty five thousand of those people were students. It wasn’t a big place, but it had always been big enough for me. I looked around the room for someplace German-shepherd proof to set the plate. “Where do you want the cookies?”

“I’ll put them in the kitchen.” Elise finally took the plate. “Sit anywhere. I’ll be back in a minute.” I took a box off a small love seat and sat down. Goliath got up, trotted over, and stared at me. All the old dog sayings came to mind. Never run from them. Never provoke them. Dogs can smell fear.

“Nice Goliath. I don’t have the cookies anymore. Go see Elise. She’s in the kitchen.” He sat sniffing, then jumped up on the love seat. For a moment I was nose to muzzle with him; then he lay down on my lap.

“Down, Goliath, down!”

The dog didn’t move. I thought of pushing him off but was afraid he’d consider that provoking.

He rolled over on his back, stretching.

I strained to see the kitchen. “Elise,” I called weakly. “Elise!” No one came.

I patted Goliath a few times on the stomach. “Nice doggy. Get off.”

He didn’t move. I decided to take a chance and I pushed him off. He rolled from my lap onto the floor, shook himself, and then jumped back onto the love seat. He plunked down in my lap again.

Elise returned from the kitchen carrying a couple of glasses and a bottle of Sprite. “Goliath, get down!” He still didn’t move. Elise put the glasses and soda on top of a stack of boxes that was in front of the couch, then grabbed Goliath by the collar and pulled him off me. “Sorry about that,” she said, but she looked more amused than apologetic.

“It’s all right.”

Goliath put his face on the cushions and looked up at me with forlorn brown eyes.

Elise sat down on the couch across from me. She seemed to have forgotten about the soda and glasses full of ice she’d brought in. “So, what do you do for fun around here?”

“I belong to the chess club and I play tennis.”

She looked completely unimpressed by this so I added, “With all my homework, I don’t have time for much else.”

“Chess and homework,” she said flatly. “What does everybody else do for fun?” Goliath whined. I patted his head. “The regular stuff. Play sports, go shopping, and see movies.” Goliath flung himself onto my lap once more.

With some effort I managed to push him off. He slid onto the floor, a heap of tan and black fur, then barked at me indignantly.

“Why does your dog want to be on my lap?”

“No reason.” Elise smirked, holding back a laugh. “Except that you’re in his chair.” I got up, with a huff of exasperation. “Your dog has a chair and you let me sit in it?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, but by that time she was laughing.

I brushed dog fur off my jeans with quick motions. “Thanks. I came innocently bearing cookies and you let your dog sit on me.” She tilted her chin down. “You didn’t come innocently. My dad told your mom that I needed to be around good influences and so here you are—

the good influence welcome wagon. The I’m-too-busy-doing-my-homework-to-have-fun poster girl.” Ah. Her dad had talked to Mrs. Taylor, so Elise thought I was Samantha.

“Nobody told me anything about you,” I said pointedly, although suddenly I wished they had. “And my mom has never met your father. I just came by to be friendly.”

Elise studied me for a moment, discerning whether I was telling the truth. “Fine.” She picked up one of the glasses and poured soda into it. “If you’re not trying to reform me, you can stay.”

As if I wanted to stay.

She handed me a drink and gestured toward the recliner. “You can sit there. Goliath doesn’t fit on it.” I wanted to tell her that I had to be going, but decided to give her another chance. I moved a suitcase, sat down, and took a sip of soda.

Elise rifled through a box sitting at her feet. “When I asked you what you did for fun, what I really meant was where do you party?”

“I don’t drink,” I said. “It’s ill egal.”

She pulled out a can of beer that had been buried underneath clothes and wiped off the top. “Yeah, so is speeding, but everybody does that.” She laughed, then stopped when she saw my expression. “What? You don’t speed?” There wasn’t much of a point to speeding in small towns. It wasn’t worth risking a ticket just to shave two minutes off your time. I shrugged. “It would ruin my insurance rate.”

Elise sighed, opened her can, and poured it over the ice in her cup. She swirled it around and took a drink, then poured the now chilled beer back into the can.

I watched her not knowing what to say. I knew some sophomores drank, but it was four thirty in the afternoon on a Monday. Wasn’t drinking like that a sign of alcoholism?

Off in the distance I heard wailing. The noise got louder and louder until two young girls shrieked into the room. One held a doll up in the air while the other chased her around the boxes.

Elise put her can on the floor, stood up, and grabbed both of them by their collars. “Stop it!” The girls barely seemed to notice that Elise had a hold of them. The older of the two, who couldn’t have been more than six, kept reaching for the doll. “It’s mine!”

“It isn’t your Skipper,” the other said. “It’s mine!”

Elise took the doll. The girls tried to grab it, but she pushed them away. “Be quiet. Skipper is trying to say something.” Both girls grew silent, suspicious. Elise held the doll up to her ear. “Skipper says she’s tired of you two pulling her apart and she wants to be my doll.”

“She did not!” they cried together.

“She did too. She also says you’re both ugly little trolls.”

“She did not!”

“She did too. Now go watch TV, and if I hear any more arguing, the TV and I will have a talk too.” The girls took a few sull en steps away. In unison they turned back and stuck out their tongues. Then they ran out of the room.

Elise tossed the doll onto the floor, sat down, and went back to drinking her beer. She wasn’t casual about it. Each sip was angry, determined, like she was making a point. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“None. I’m an only child.”

“That must be great.”

“Sometimes it is. Sometimes it isn’t.”

A car pulled into the driveway. Elise swore and looked for someplace to hide her beer. She reached for the box, but when the car door slammed she ditched the can behind a chair cushion instead. She finished the whole production just before the door opened and her older brother walked in.

He looked a lot like Elise. His black hair was wavy and a few stray curls lay against his forehead, like he’d just walked in from the beach. His blue eyes made a striking contrast to his dark hair, and he had a face that would make the girls at PHS take a second look. And probably a third looks too.

Elise relaxed. “Oh, it’s only you,” she said and took the can out again.

Without noticing either of us, he opened one of the boxes on the floor and sifted through papers in it. “Mom and Dad decided to stay late at the store. I’m just picking up the invoice sheets, then I’m going back.”

“That’s all right,” Elise said drearily. “I don’t have anything to do with my life anymore except babysit.” As he straightened, he looked over at Elise and saw the can in her hand. His eyes narrowed into icy blue slits. In two strides, he’d reached her and grabbed the beer from her hand. “If you want to get drunk on your own time, that’s one thing. But don’t you ever do it when you’re watching the kids.” His voice got louder. “Do you even know where they are?”

I would have withered up and died if someone talked to me like that. Elise took it in stride.

“Abby is asleep—at least she was until you just yelled. Bailey and Olivia are watching TV. Dan is putting away his junk, and I’m entertaining a guest.”

Elise’s brother glanced at me for the first time. He didn’t seem impressed.

“What, you’ve only been here twenty-four hours, and you’ve already found drinking buddies?” My mouth fell open. I knew I looked stupid, but I couldn’t help it.

“Cassidy lives down the street. She brought over cookies to welcome us to the neighborhood. Unless you give me my beer back, I’ll give yours to the dog.”

He crumpled the top of the can in a way that made its return unlikely, then stalked out of the room without another glance at either of us.

Elise flipped him off and then leaned back into her chair with her arms folded. “That was my brother Josh.”