Dead to You (16 page)

She leans in.

I can feel her breath on my lips.

I think I’m going to pass out.

And then she kisses me, so fucking sweet I want to hold her forever.

It lasts ten seconds, maybe more. Feels like more. But then we break the kiss and we both sit back and just breathe and look at each other.

“That was hot,” Cami says. “Yikes.”

I nod and try to shift without making it obvious that I’ve got a boner the size of a nun-chuck. “Yikes?” I ask. “That’s not the usual reaction, you realize, right?” Tempest never said “yikes.” She always said “more.” But I don’t want to think about Tempest ever again.

She blushes and I can see her sexy bottom lip shining. “I mean, it was awesome. A little too awesome. I—” I can see the guilt in her eyes.

“Don’t,” I say quietly. “Just wait one second.” I lean in, brush her chin with my fingers, and take her bottom lip in my teeth, running my tongue over it, and I can feel her shiver. I kiss her full on, taste her tongue, and think I’m going to die. My fingers slide through her hair and she slips her arms around my neck, and here we are, crazy, both of us starving for this. And I don’t want to think about why I am starving, or why she is; I just want to kiss her, taste her, be with her.

Before she says it. Before she gives me those sad eyes and makes excuses and gets her J-Dog regret all over everything. And when this kiss winds down, I’ll walk away and let her be with him, and I’ll be okay with just the memory of it. Because it’s enough. It has to be enough.

It’s not enough.

We’re like South America and Africa. Like two continents that exist far away from each other, so totally different from one another, but if you push them together, if you nestle Brazil up into the armpit of Nigeria, it all fits, like they were made for each other. Like they were of the same skin. Like one broke away from the other a long time ago, but now it’s back. A puzzle, completed.

I’m back. And I want my other skin.

I’ve never kissed for love before.

When it ends, I search her eyes. I don’t know if she feels like I feel, or if she’s conflicted. I don’t blame her for being conflicted about J-Dog. I don’t.

As for me, I’d run out in front of a bus if she told me to. I can’t hide it. She’s got me so caught up in her. I am Nigeria and she’s my Brazil, and we exist in this moment, in this quiet, dark little spot by the slider door.

But all I can think of to say, right here, right now, is “Please give me a chance.”

Her face is a conflicted story. The wrinkle of her forehead, the line of her eyebrow, the swell of her lips. Her eyes flicker, searching mine.

And then she reaches up, touches my cheek. And says, “Okay.”

I stare. I can’t help it. “What did you say?”

“I said okay.”

I want to shout for joy, but instead I pick up her coat and bury my face in it, trying not to make any noise, a huge grin spreading across my face. And then I grab her and kiss her and we’re laughing and shushing each other.

When I can get my breath, I realize what she has to do now. “Oh, shit,” I say, my grin fading. “He’s going to kill me.”

Cami shrugs. “I don’t think he’ll kill you.”

“But . . . are you sure?”

She smiles. “Let’s lie low for a while, okay? I’ll break up with him tomorrow. I won’t say it’s because of you. We’ll keep it normal, like we have been. I’m sure he’ll pick up another girl to string along and it’ll be all good.” Her voice is a little bitter. I like that more than I should.

And I feel like a coward, but I like her plan too. I nod.

She sits up and smoothes her hair. “I should get home before my mother freaks. It’s late.”

We kiss again at the door, and then she slips out into the shadows and through the backyards to her house. I close my eyes and lean against the doorframe for a minute, letting it all sink in. I can’t stop grinning. Finally, something is going my way.

I’m starving. I go upstairs for a late-night snack and I’m surprised to see a light still on in the living room. I grab a bran muffin from a basket on the counter and make my way over to the living room to see if it’s Mama snoozing on the couch, and then I stop short.

It’s Blake. He’s studying my second-grade photo on the wall.

I narrow my eyes. “What are you doing?”

Blake wheels around, surprised.

I take a bite of my muffin.

“Nothing,” he says. He shoves past me and goes to his room.

But not even Blake can faze me right now. I turn out the light and go back down to my little stress-free cave to dream about my girl.

Sunday morning Mama drags us all to church,
and I’m surprised it’s held right at my high school—no church building. There are a few people dressed up, but mostly they’re just wearing jeans and sweaters. The music isn’t too bad, but I don’t sing. Still, I’m surprised at how normal it is and really glad nobody makes me stand up or be healed or come to Jesus or whatever, like they do on TV.

Gracie sticks with Dad. Blake and I keep our distance from each other, and Mama looks like she’ll beat the crap out of us if we do anything. I’m not about to cross her on that. My new goal is to get my ass ungrounded so I can spend more time with Cami.

I look around the place and see a lot of people who look familiar, like from school. Cami and her family are on the other side of the auditorium and I swear I start sweating just seeing her. And when church is done and we turn around to go home, I see J-Dog and I get that scary thing in my gut. But he goes the other way and I watch him weave through people toward Cami.

I don’t think she’s broken up with him yet because he slips his arm around her. My feet cement themselves in place and I can’t take my eyes away. He leans down and kisses her and I’m getting sick. But she laughs and pulls away and shoves her purse under her arm, like it’s a buffer, and that feels better to me. It’s cool, because she doesn’t even know I’m here, so I feel good about it. It’s like what she said last night actually stayed alive until today—it didn’t die after a good night’s sleep, like most crazy good things do. I look up at the ceiling and think,
Thank you, God,
even though I’m pretty sure he’s not up there hanging around in the high school rafters or on the catwalk.

And when Cami and J-Dog start walking out and talking together, they look serious. Cami spies me and she flashes a big, quick smile of surprise, happy to see me. She nods like we have a plan, and I make a fist and hold it to my chest, like it’s her heart next to mine.

God, when did I turn into such a fucking sap?

I catch up to my parents and, big surprise, they didn’t even notice I wasn’t with them for the past forty-five seconds. Maybe they think church is safe or something. That’s a mistake, if you ask me.

We hang out while Mama talks with some other ladies. Lots of them are so happy to see me and tell me how much they’ve prayed for me all these years and how they felt when they found out I was home. It’s touching, really, because they get all teary about it. I like that. I just hope God doesn’t get all the credit for bringing me home, because I sure hitchhiked a hell of a long ways and walked my frozen feet off to get here.

Blake leans up against the wall and doesn’t look at anybody, doesn’t say anything, and nobody talks to him. And Gracie hops down the middle of the school hallway like the floor has hopscotch painted on it, running into people and being generally adorable. They all love her—everybody knows her name and gives her candy and shit like that. I watch her work the grandpa and grandma types and I gotta give her props. She knows what she’s doing.

Every now and then I scan the place for Cami and J-Dog, but I don’t see them. My stomach twists a little again, but I’m in control. I think about texting her, but I don’t want to get in her face about it. She’ll do it when she does it. And I’ll wait.

And then it’s time to go. We head out to the diner nearby for brunch. I guess it’s our family tradition to do that after church. And that’s cool. I like it. We are all on our best behavior. Mama and Dad talk about the service and they ask if I liked it.

I shrug. “Sure. It was fine.”

Mama looks pleased.

Gracie colors on the kids’ menu between bites of her burger, and even Blake passes the pepper when I ask him for it. We talk about plans for the week, and I still don’t know half the people they are talking about. Feels like I’m in a play and I don’t know all my lines.

I wait for the buzz in my pocket.

At home, everybody disperses. I go down to do my homework and doodle for a while, distracted. And then I go upstairs and wander, trying to find something to do so I don’t go crazy. Dad’s taking a nap and Mama and Gracie are in the living room playing a board game. Blake is nowhere. In his room as usual, probably.

I hesitate and then sit down on the floor. “Hey,” I say. Things are still a little awkward from yesterday. I haven’t really talked to either one of them alone since the family meeting. “What are you playing?”

“Chutes and Ladders,” Gracie says. “Duh.”

I laugh. “Well, I don’t know. I’ve never played it before.”

Mama looks at me and gives me this heartbreaking smile. “This was your favorite game.”

“I’m sorry I don’t remember.” I draw my knees up and hug them, rest my chin on them. “What else was my favorite?”

Mama shakes her head. “Just look at Gracie. She’s the mirror image of you. She likes practically everything you liked.”

Gracie steals a wary glance at me. “Mama, is he the real Efan or the fake Efan?”

“He’s the real deal, sweetie. There’s no fake Ethan. Blake’s just having a tough time.”

I smile at Mama. “Thank you,” I say.

Gracie looks relieved too. “You’re the real deal,” she says, like she likes that phrase.

“Yep,” I say. “Maybe I even had a lunch box like you. Did I, Mama?”

Mama smiles. “
Star Wars
. It was Dad’s old lunch box from when he was a kid, from the first time those movies came out. So yours was a second-generation lunch box, if you can believe it lasted that long. I bet it’s still around somewhere, all beat-up.”

“What did I keep inside it?” I ask Mama, but I give Gracie a sidelong glance that makes her fume. She knows I’m trying to figure out what’s in hers.

“I don’t know,” Mama says. “Probably your lunch. Or maybe your treasures.”

“I want to know what my treasures were so I can know what Gracie hides in her lunch box,” I say, laughing. “I suppose I liked those movies too.”

“You were obsessed. You and your Dad watched them over and over.”

I ask Gracie, “Are you obsessed with
Star Wars
too?”

“Huh?”

“Do you like to watch the
Star Wars
movies a lot?”

“Nope,” she says. “I never even seen ’em.”

“Maybe we can watch one together sometime, because I sure don’t remember them,” I say.

“See, we’re the same,” she says. I love her logic. And I think maybe that’s why I actually like the kid so much. She’s about where I was when I left off. It’s like I can relive my missing years at her level or something.

We play a few games of Chutes and Ladders. After a while Mama goes to take a nap. Gracie and I hang out having a contest, trying to make the goofiest face. The kid sure likes sticking her fingers in her nose. It’s a good distraction.

Blake doesn’t come out.

“What do you think Blake does in his room all the time?” I ask Gracie after a while.

“He plays on the ’puter.”

“Oh.” The computer in Blake’s room was supposed to be for both of us to share, but when he threw my stuff out, he didn’t hand that over, so basically it’s all his. “What does he do on the computer?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. He doesn’t let me come in. Only stand in the hallway and peek in.”

“Maybe he’s a mad scientist creating a robot that will rule the world,” I say.

“That’s dumb. Play elevator with me.”

I groan. I’m tired of playing. She stands on my knees and holds my hands and bounces a little until I bend my knees and she goes up in the air. “What did you do before I was here to play with you?”

She grins and says, “I was waiting for you.”

It’s all good, Cami texts.

Finally. I almost drop the phone trying to type fast.
Really? He’s not going to kill me? Can you come over later?

I’ll try. I miss you.

Oh, hell. That kills me, it really does.

I fall asleep with my clothes on, waiting. When I wake up, my alarm clock is blaring. It’s morning.

When I see her walking to the bus stop early, I grab my coat and backpack and head out. We’re the first ones there.

“Nice plan,” I say. “I missed you.” We stand with our backs to the house, a noticeable space between us.

“I was hoping you were watching. We’re so sneaky.” Cami grins. “Sorry about last night. Too much homework and I didn’t realize how late it was, and then I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Are you okay? I mean, about Jason?” I hate saying his name.

“Yeah, it’s weird. But it’s fine.” She shrugs. “He didn’t even take it very hard.”

“Bastard,” I say before I realize I should be glad.

She squints at me and smiles. “You’re sweet. I like you. Wanna make out?”

I laugh. “Right now?”

“I’m kidding. We should still keep it quiet. Give it a week or so. You think?”

“Yeah,” I say, and I’m relieved. I don’t want to be the guy that messed around with J-Dog Roofer’s girlfriend . . . even though I am. That would not work out in my favor. “Does he know about me?”

“No. I just told him what I’d been thinking for weeks.”

“Which is . . . ?”

“That I’m tired of being his girlfriend only when he runs out of other things to do.”

Other students have drifted over and we don’t say much, but when we sit together on the bus as usual, Cami sits so close to me I can’t even concentrate. She just listens to her playlist, being all sexy, and I look out the window, thinking about how the last time I rode this bus, I didn’t stand a chance.