Geek Girl (20 page)

“His father?” Even with the noise I can hear the stunned disbelief in Trevor’s voice.

“Only on the weekends,” I say. Trevor processes this, never quite losing his look of incredulity. I’m not surprised. When you’re raised in a house where happiness blooms all around, it’s hard to imagine people living like this. This isn’t so bad. There are worse ways to live. I should know.

“What if someone calls the cops?” he asks worriedly.

“Relax, Trev. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

As if to belie my words, a sudden clap of thunder shakes the house.

“Come on,” I pull on his hand. “Let’s go downstairs.”

Kyle’s basement is a sort of makeshift dancing area since it’s mostly unfinished, with cement floor and walls. Only a bathroom, laundry room, and small bedroom are completed. The latter is sparsely furnished—only a mattress sits in the middle of the floor. I’m well aware of its purpose, and that it had been finished by Kyle himself for nights such as this. I always steer clear of it—I might not be a paragon of virtue, but there are certain things that are mine alone that only I have the right to give away, and I have no desire to lose it to some sloppy drunk boy who wouldn’t even remember me the next day. It’s the very thing that was nearly stolen from me by my stepfather, which has only made it that much more precious to me.

Trevor seems eased by the somewhat normal scene down here, seeming almost like a school dance. The music drops into a slow blaring ballad, and Trevor pulls me into his arms, relieved, I think, for something to do. Everyone around us is pressed closely together, and though Trevor now holds me
much
closer than he did for our first dance, it is still modest compared to the others here. I smile up at him. It’s just another Trevor quirk that makes him completely unique.

After one song, the music moves back into a throbbing, upbeat tempo, and Trevor moves slightly away, keeping his hold on me. About half of the couples start bouncing with the new music while the other half continue to grip one another in oblivion. Trevor looks around at them, smiling wryly. We stay through a few more songs, dancing, then the heat becomes overbearing.

“Wanna go up and get something to drink?” I yell in his ear.

“What?” he yells back, but I only know what he’s saying by reading his lips. I point toward the ceiling and imitate drinking. He nods, and we fight our way through the crowd, which has definitely thickened, to go back up the stairs. We squeeze our way into the kitchen, and Trevor pushes through until he reaches some cups. He grabs a nearly empty bottle of Diet Coke and fills two cups. I raise my eyebrows questioningly, but he just smiles and shrugs.

The pop is warm and not especially thirst quenching. My head begins to ache a little from the overbearing noise. Trevor snakes his arm around my waist, pulling me close and dragging me toward the back door.

We spill out into the backyard, which is nearly as crowded as it had been in the house, but at least the air is cooler now that the storm is near. A breeze lifts my hair off my neck, and it’s somewhat quieter.

I look up at the black sky, where lightning silently shoots beams into the darkness. Thunder rolls slowly on the heels of the flashes. I normally love rainstorms, but I’m a little disappointed that it will force us back into the house when it breaks.

“Are you doing okay?” Trevor asks, watching me intently.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You forget—this is old hat for me.”

“Oh. Yeah, right. You just seem a little . . .”

He trails off, and I look at him curiously.

“A little what?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Never mind. Do you want to go back in?”

“No, let’s stay out here for a few minutes while we can.”

Trevor’s face reflects his relief at my words, though he turns to try to hide it from me.

“Jen! There you are, baby!” Kyle’s too loud words come out the door as he stumbles through. Trevor’s lips tighten at his endearment, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Surely he’s not jealous of
Kyle
?

“Hey, Trevor, my man, mind if I steal your chick for a minute? I have something I want to show her.”

Trevor’s face tightens at this, and I wonder if he’ll say no. Instead, he looks at me, and I can read his face as if he spoke aloud. He’s asking me if this is what I want. I kind of like this jealousness, so I smile.

“I’ll be right back.” I hand him my cup to hold for me. His eyes flash—or is it just the reflection of the lightning?—and so I give him a little break. I lean up and kiss him, making it clear to Kyle that we have progressed beyond mere friends. Trevor’s eyes widen a little at this unexpectedness.

“Don’t go away,” I whisper, turning to follow Kyle, immediately regretting that I agreed to this when Kyle takes my hand and pulls me back into the hot, overcrowded house. His hand doesn’t feel right in mine, too soft and sweaty. He pulls me into the den, which has been abandoned by his father, who is most likely upstairs in his room by now.

“What is it, Kyle?” I demand impatiently. The volume of the music and laughter drowns part of my sentence and takes the edge from my words.

“I’ve got something for you.” He smiles in his impression of a villain and waggles his eyebrows. I feel the first stirring of discomfort.

“I should go back out—”

Kyle turns away from my words, pulling me further into the room. Suddenly Beth and Ella are there, throwing their arms around me in welcome. We try to have a shouted conversation, but the effort is too great.

Finally, Kyle walks over and closes the glass doors, muffling the music somewhat. Beth pulls me over to sit on the couch next to her.

“I was wondering if you had left your foster family and we hadn’t heard,” she accuses.

“I’m sorry, I should have called. I’ve just been—”

“I know, working on your project. What, did you decide to take a day off?” She looks around to see if she’s missed him.

“Romeo is out back,” Kyle interrupts, sliding down onto the coffee table directly in front of me.

“Romeo?” Ella questions with a laugh as she plops down on my other side, sandwiching me between the twins.

“Either that, or Jen here is into making out with her friends.” He laughs, but I can hear the question in his voice, wanting to know what’s going on between us. I refuse to take the bait, but Beth jumps in.

“Part of the plan, right, Jen?”

I don’t answer as they all laugh. I don’t want to talk about Trevor to them.

“So, you said you have something for me?” I bring Kyle’s lethargic attention back to me.

“Oh yeah, baby. Boy, do I ever. Rick!” he calls over my shoulder. A boy I don’t know ambles over and hands something to Kyle. I stare at the elongated glass contraption, water in the bottom of the glass bowl, the small pipe jutting from the side already loaded. Kyle brings it to his lips and lowers his lighter, inhaling deeply. He hands it to me, and automatically I take it. I stare down at it, numb. It wasn’t all that long ago that I would have taken this from Kyle or anyone gladly, figuring a hit or two never hurt anyone—and that actually sometimes it helped.

Now my mind is filled with other thoughts: the family I’ve nearly decided to stay with who will throw me out if they find out, Todd’s trusting eyes, even Carol, eyes filled with knowing. Mostly though, the most important face pushes all the other thoughts aside, eyes filled with repulsion and hatred.

As if my thoughts conjure him, Beth and Ella gasp in unison, and I follow their eyes up to the glass doors to see Trevor standing there, watching me holding Kyle’s surprise for me. There is no repulsion or hatred in his eyes; it is far worse. The disappointment and grief I see there cause my heart to stutter to a stop. I stand up quickly, thrusting it back at Kyle; my movements make me look guiltier. Trevor doesn’t move, just watches as I hurry toward the door. I pull it open, then flee past his shocked face, ignoring the hand that reaches feebly for me.

I rush out the front door into the ripping wind and down the steps, thunder rolling across the sky in tandem with the lightning now. Fat raindrops spatter my face as I begin to run, away from what I am, from what I have always been, from what I will always be.

My side aches, and my lungs scream in protest, but still I run. I’m drenched from the storm, which drives down furiously now. I barely notice. I run blindly, unaware of my surroundings, trying to find peace from my guilt, from my breaking heart. I’m not sure how long I’ve been running when I realize there’s no escape.

As if my realization is the permission my body needs, it suddenly gives out. I stumble with legs gone rubber and collapse beneath a tree, landing on my knees and palms with a wretched howl that blends into the roll of thunder overhead. I drop to my side and curl up in a ball in the wet leaves, hating the tears and the pitiful sounds coming from me, but unable to stop them.

And then, like a miracle, he’s there, pulling me up against him, breath heaving, his arms bands of steel that hold me together tight against his hard chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I gasp repeatedly as he rocks me. The fact that he’s here, that his
kindness
runs so deep that he would follow me after what he saw, what he now knows, how much he must hate me . . . his compassion cuts me, amplifies my guilt.

He’s talking as I keep gasping my apology, the words muffled with my head pressed against his chest, his hand smoothing my hair over and over. Eventually, what he’s saying, what he himself is repeating over and over, begins to penetrate.

“It doesn’t matter, Jen. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”

My grief flashes into anger at his words, and I push away from him angrily.

“How can you
say
that?” I explode at him. “
Of course
it matters.
Of course
it’s not okay! I’m a loser, Trev. You
have
to see that now. This is what I am. It’s all I’m ever going to be! I’m not like you. I’m never going to
be
like you.”

The sky lights up with a flash as a clap of thunder crashes across us. In the light I see his face clearly for just a second, and if I didn’t know better I would swear he’s smiling. Darkness descends again, and he becomes an indistinct outline. He reaches out, hand sliding down my sodden arm, and pulls my hand into both of his, not even caring that it’s covered in mud and leaves.

“I don’t remember ever asking you to be like me,” he says, threading his fingers through mine.

“Trevor, I know you didn’t. You
wouldn’t
. You’re too perfect.” I’m sharp with him, but he doesn’t pull away. “This wasn’t supposed to be this way. When I started . . .” I trail off, knowing that now is the time,
now
is when I need to tell him the truth. I continue, “I never meant for this to be so . . .” A flash lights his face, and I see confusion. “You’re all that is good, Trev, and I’m all that is . . . not.”

He’s silent for a moment, and I know he’s coming to the realization that my words are true, that he’s a fool to have wasted any time on me.

“Says who?” he finally asks quietly, and I almost don’t hear him over the sound of the rain beating against the tree above us. I don’t answer, and he gives my hand a little jerk.

“Who says that you’re not good?” He sounds a little angry. “Who says that, Jen? Kyle? Beth? Ella? Your mother?
You
? Who gave any of you the right to decide who’s good and who’s not?”

“Oh, c’mon, Trev. Tell me that before you knew me you didn’t think you were better than me, better than any of my friends?”

“Not better—
different
,” he says, and I laugh scornfully, or rather I try to, but it gets tangled in my throat. He jerks my hand again, and the lightning reveals the intense anger on his face.

“No, I don’t party; no, I don’t dress in black leather and chains; that’s not my style. That’s how I was raised. I worry about getting good grades and I go to church and I watch sci-fi movies and I generally follow the rules. Most people would call me a geek or a nerd.
You’ve
called me that many times.

“But that isn’t everything that defines me. I mean, look at me, sitting here in a rainstorm under a tree that’s probably going to kill us when the lightning hits it, holding the hand of a pretty cool girl who really is the opposite of me, a girl that I happen to be in love with. A girl I couldn’t have
imagined
would want to be with me. But here she is, letting me hold her hand, trying to tell me why
she
isn’t good enough for
me
.
That’s crazy.”

The rain is tapering off, slowing while Trevor is giving me this amazing speech, but I can’t respond. My mind is stuck on one thing he said, the one thing that glares in the night brighter than any of the lightning that has come before. As if in answer, the lightning chooses that moment to streak across the sky, followed in quick succession by three more. It gives Trevor a clear view of my stunned expression.

“What?” he sounds defensive.

“Trev, what you just said . . .”

“Yeah?” Now he’s wary.

“Did you say . . . in . . . 
love
 . . . with?”

His outline shrugs, and he shifts uncomfortably.