Fallout (24 page)

WITH MY BACK TOWARD

The disturbing melodrama,

I squat, reach for my mess.

Now a different voice

settles like fog around me.

Here. Let me help you.

I know without looking

who’s speaking. The stupid

thing is, I somehow feel grateful

Bryce is talking to me at all.

Still, I protest, “No, thanks.

I’ve got it.” My tone is not

Christmas fudge sweet.

He holds out a hand, which

I ignore.
What’s wrong?

What is wrong? Not like

I can confess what I’m feeling.

“Uh, nothing. Something

happened at home is all.”

He watches me reorganize

my stacks.
You never talk

much about home. Why not?

Don’t you trust me?

I shut my locker, turn to

look him in the eye. “Not

a whole lot to talk about,

really.” I leave the rest hanging.

Over his shoulder, I notice

Tiffany, now nose to nose

with Billy Burke. Cherie would

flip! “What’s up with her today?”

The question slips out, slick

as Quaker State. Bryce rotates

on one heel.
Who? Tiffany?

She got new green contacts.

I guess she’s showing them

off to anyone who’ll notice.

MORTIFIED

That pretty much sums up

how I feel right this minute.

Mortified and relieved.

“Oh,” is all I can manage.

I finish lining up my spare

pens and pencils by color,

just as the bell rings.

Do you like football?

Bryce falls in step at my shoulder.

He’s warm and clean scented,

like rain and fresh-cut apples.

“Playing or watching?”

Dumb thing to say! Of

course he didn’t mean

playing.
Tick-tick-tick.

You like to play football?

He sounds really pleased.

Actually, I meant watching.

There’s a game tomorrow?

“I … uh … love football.”

It’s a slight exaggeration.

Aunt Cora loves football,

so I tolerate it. Hours of it.

Bryce grins.
Want to go with me?

He’s asking me to the game?

Like a “sit next to him in the stands,

knee touching knee” kind of date?

Tick-tick.
Stay cool. “Sure.”

Suddenly I’m acutely aware

of his body, pressed up against

mine. It feels proprietary. I like it.

Cool. I’ll see you at lunch.

Before he turns away, he leans

into me, and his lips brush

the pulse just below my ear.

Tick-tick-tick-tick-TICK!

I THINK

I just might go ahead and die

right here, right now. How

could anything be better than

the way I’m feeling this moment?

Ms. Dzumba blathers on

and on about amoebas, and all

I can think about is Bryce’s

kiss. It
was
a kiss, wasn’t it?

God, what if it was just an

accident? Was I supposed

to respond? What if that’s

the only kiss I ever get?

Worse, what if it’s not?

What if we go to the game

and he wants to kiss for real?

Like lips, with me kissing back?

What if I try to kiss back

and I totally blow it? Like

bump teeth or bite tongue?

Wait. Tongue? What about that?

What if I freak out completely?

Oh my God. Why did I say

okay? I can’t. I’m just not

a “go to the game” kind of girl.

HOW DO I BACK OUT GRACEFULLY?

Think, Autumn. Excuses

aren’t that hard to come by.

I’m sick.

Too close to the truth.

I broke my leg.

Too easy to disprove.

I have a toothache.

The dentist? On Saturday?

Work called me in.

When did you get a job?

I need to study.

There’s always Sunday.

I’m going in for

green contacts.

There’s a novel idea.

Grandfather won’t

let me go.

The biggest kicker of all.

What if he won’t?

BY THE TIME

The bell rings for lunch, I still

haven’t figured out what to say.

Then I see Bryce. Every ounce

of doubt melts away beneath

the warmth of his smile.

By the time I have stashed

my books, he is at my side.

Almost unbelievably, I feel

his arm slide around my waist.

Hungry? Come on. Let’s go.

I am not even a little bit hungry.

At least, not for food. Usually

I grab a quick bite at the snack

bar, sit on the lawn or in the quad

to nibble and read. But not today.

Bryce guides me out the door,

along the damp sidewalk to

the parking lot. He stops beside

a pretty emerald green Acura,

opens the passenger door.

I’ve never ridden in some

random car before. I slip inside,

vaguely uncomfortable, as if

I’m doing something wrong.

I kind of like the feeling, though.

Bryce takes the driver’s seat, glances

my way.
Penny for your thoughts.

My brain stutter must show.

How not to sound like a total

dweeb? “I was just checking out

your stereo.” True enough.

It’s a Bose. Cost a pretty penny.

Nice, huh? My brother gave it to

me for Christmas.
He starts the car

and the CD player kicks in. Incubus.

Interesting information. He has

a brother. A brother with money.

I realize suddenly that I know as little

about Bryce as he does about me.

Who has the biggest surprises in store?

SURPRISE NUMBER ONE

I expect him to drive to McDonald’s

or Burger King. Instead he high-

tails it several blocks away, pulls

into a strip mall parking lot.

Esperanza’s is a great little taqueria,

one of Aunt Cora’s favorite “hidden

hot spots.” Apparently it’s one

of Bryce’s favorites too.

He pulls up in front.
They have

killer burritos here. Oh, hey
,

you
do
like Mexican food, don’t

you? Wow, this place is rocking.

“Well, yeah. It
is
lunchtime.

And yes, I do, in fact, like Mexican

food. We’d better hurry, though,

or we’ll be late back to school.”

We go inside, squeeze our way

through the crowded tables

to the takeout counter. Bryce

orders his burrito. I ask for

a chicken soft taco before

I discover, “Oh, no. I didn’t

bring any money.” I must have

left it in yesterday’s jeans.

Bryce doesn’t miss a beat.

I’ve got it. I invited you to lunch
,

remember?
Surprise number two.

Some guys are still gentlemen.

We eat in the car, listening

to music I could never play

at home, at least not without

headphones, at least not

when Grandfather is around.

He isn’t big on metal. Bryce

downs his giant burrito faster

than I can finish my taco. I grin.

What?
he says. But he knows

why I’m smiling. He shrugs.

Guess I was hungrier than

I thought. Must be hormones.