Geek High (17 page)

“Oh, a puppy!” a girl cooed.

“Wow, man, look at that weird dog,” a guy called out.

One or two of the more dramatic girls actually screamed—as though Willow had blood dripping from her fangs—and several others tried to pet her as she passed. But Willow was not interested in affection—her sole goal at the moment was to get as far away from the noisy crowd as possible. And I saw just where she was heading.

“Close the back door!” I yelled, rushing to head Willow off before she could get out. I should have known better. There's a reason why they race greyhounds, and not beagles or cocker spaniels.

“Don't let the dog out!” Dex shouted from behind me.

But it was too late. Willow streaked out the back door, down the steps toward the beach, and into the darkness. I had that awful sinking sensation in my stomach, the one I always get when I fall asleep in a car and then wake up feeling like I'm falling off a cliff. I pushed my way through the crowd and flew out the back door and down the stairs after Willow.

As soon as my feet hit the sand, I began turning around, looking for some sign of my beautiful brindle greyhound…but she was nowhere in sight.

“Willow!” I called. “Willow!”

Luckily, even though it was dark out, the beach was lit by a full, round yellow moon hanging low in the sky, as well by the lights that shone from the big houses that lined the shore. It was still too dark to see Willow's paw prints in the sand, so I ran in the direction that we normally took on our walks, hoping Willow would have done the same.

“Willow!” I called again, wondering if she'd be able to hear me over the loud thrum of the ocean.

“Miranda, wait up!” I turned and saw that Dex had followed me down to the beach.

“I have to find Willow,” I said, fighting back tears.

“I know. I'll help you,” Dex said simply.

“Thanks,” I said, in a choked voice.

Dex reached out and took my hand in his. Any other time, this would have thrilled me. After all,
Dex was holding my hand
. No one had ever held my hand before. Well. Not like this. And Dex's fingers felt warm and reassuring wrapped around mine. But I was too upset about Willow's running off to think too much about the hand-holding, other than to register that it was happening.

“Don't worry. We'll find her,” Dex said confidently. We started walking down the beach, the sand shifting under our feet, looking for Willow. It was low tide, and the waves lapped gently up onto the beach.

“The problem is, she's never off lead. I don't think she'd even know how to get back to the beach house on her own,” I said.

“Dogs are smarter than you think,” Dex said. “She knows where home is.”

“That's just it; this
isn't
her home. I mean, it's not her real home. It's just a place where we're staying temporarily,” I explained. “Normally, we live with my mom.”

“Maybe she'd go there. To your mom's house,” he said.

I shrugged, and felt the tears welling in my eyes. “I don't know. I don't even know how she got out,” I said. “She was closed up in my room.”

“Someone was probably looking for a free bedroom, and let her out by mistake,” Dex said.

“Why would they be looking for a bedroom?” I asked. Then suddenly I got it.
Duh
. Obviously. I was thankful it was dark out, so Dex wouldn't be able to see how red my face was.
“Oh,”
I said, and tried not to think about just who was in my room…or what they were doing there.

“People always get stupid at these parties,” Dex explained.

“I've never been to one before. I didn't even really go to this one. It just sort of happened around me,” I said.

“Well, this is pretty typical. Everyone drinks too much, and then they act like idiots. It's why I stopped going to them,” Dex said.

“Why did you come tonight?” I asked.

Dex didn't answer, and when I glanced over at him, I saw that he was looking down at me. For a moment his eyes were steady on mine.
Zing!
My heart gave an excited thump.

Did he mean…Was he saying…Had he come to the party…because of
me
?

Dex stopped suddenly. And even though his face was lit by the pale moonlight streaming down over the beach, I couldn't tell what he was thinking. Was it possible that he liked me?
Really
liked me? I wondered if he was going to say something amazing about how he couldn't stop thinking about me. Or maybe…maybe he'd
kiss
me. My breath caught in my throat, and I knew with certainty that if he did kiss me, my entire body would melt into a puddle right there on the sand. He'd kiss me…and then I could ask him to go to the Snowflake with me. My heart began leaping around in my chest at the thought.

“There she is,” Dex said.

“What?” I asked, confused.

But then I realized that he was pointing over my shoulder, up toward the lifeguard stand at the back of the beach. I spun around and saw Willow, flopped down on the sand, her muzzle resting on her paws, her chest heaving. It looked like she was taking a nap.

“Willow!” I cried out, and ran toward her. Once I reached her, I knelt down beside her and stroked her neck. Willow opened one eye and looked at me. Her long pink tongue came out, slurped my hand, and then she closed her eyes again. I wondered if it was possible for dogs to be narcoleptic.

“Is she okay?” Dex asked. He'd followed me, and was now hovering behind me, looking concerned.

“She's fine. She's just tired from her big adventure,” I said. “Come on, girl.”

I tugged gently at Willow's collar, and she gradually, grudgingly stood up beside me. I didn't have a leash for her, so I just hooked my fingers under her collar and started to lead her back up the beach. Dex walked silently along beside me. I wondered if he'd take my free hand in his again. He didn't.

Suddenly I felt awkward with Dex.
He probably thinks I'm a freak, too,
I thought gloomily.
The sort of girl who completely loses it over something as minor as her dog getting out (and then only running a half mile down the beach before falling asleep under a lifeguard shack). And here I am, practically in tears, as though I'd never see her again
, I thought, my face burning. Total overreaction.

I was just glad I hadn't done anything really stupid. Like closing my eyes and puckering up my lips for a kiss that obviously wasn't coming. Now,
that
would have been truly mortifying.

“Thanks for helping me look for Willow. It was really nice of you,” I gabbled nervously as we approached the house. “I don't know if I would have thought to look for her there. Under the lifeguard tower, I mean. I might have ended up walking ten miles down the beach without ever seeing her.”

“I'm sure you would have found her eventually,” Dex said.

We reached the wooden stairs that led up to the back deck of the beach house. I was just about to start up the steps when Dex spoke.

“Miranda,” Dex said.

I turned around to look at him, and found myself standing eye-to-eye with him, now that I was up on the step. And suddenly I was
sure
he was going to kiss me. Sure of it. He stepped closer to me, so close that I could smell the clean scent of his shampoo. And then Dex reached out toward me, and I actually shivered…and it had nothing to do with the cool breeze blowing gently off the ocean.

Is he going to rest his hand on my cheek when he kisses me?
I wondered. I've always loved that. Well. Not that I'd ever kissed anyone. But when I've imagined being kissed, the guy always rests his hand on my cheek just as he lowers his lips to mine. And then, as the kiss intensifies, he slides his hand back, until it's resting on my neck….

But Dex didn't cup his hand against my cheek. Nor did he lean forward to kiss me. Instead, he brushed the tips of his fingers against my hair, while I stared mutely at him.

“You had a leaf in your hair,” he explained.

“Yo, Dex!”

We both looked up. Some guy I didn't recognize was at the top of the stairs, a red plastic beer cup in his hand.

“Hey, Bruner,” Dex said. He took a step back from me. “What's up?”

“Come on, dude; we gotta go. One of the neighbors just came over and said that if we don't take off, he's going to call the cops,” Bruner said.

The news that the police might be showing up at any minute should have taken my mind off of the kiss that may or may not be coming…but it didn't. I stood there, rooted in place, still gazing hopefully at Dex. Unfortunately, Bruner didn't move either. He just guzzled down the last of his beer as he waited for Dex.

“I guess I have to go,” Dex said.

“Tell me he's not your ride,” I said, glancing back up at Bruner. He could barely stand up straight, and was clearly in no shape to drive.

“No. I'm his ride,” Dex said. “I don't drink, so I'm always the designated driver. I guess I'd better get him out of here before he does something really dumb, like puke in your living room.”

I nodded, swallowing back my disappointment.

But Dex hesitated. “What were you going to say?” he asked.

“What?” I asked.

“Earlier when we were inside. You said you wanted to apologize to me. What about?” he asked.

“Oh! I just…that day we were walking on the beach. I got the feeling that I offended you by calling you a jock,” I said.

Dex shook his head and smiled faintly. “You didn't offend me,” he said.

“Good. I thought…well, I thought I had. And I just wanted you to know…that's not how I see you. Just as a jock,” I explained.

Dex's smile grew wider, the corners of his lips quirking up in that sardonic way.

“Good to know,” he said.

I turned quickly so he wouldn't see that my face had turned the color of a strawberry. I hurried up the stairs, Willow at my side and Dex behind me. Bruner moved to the side to let me pass. When Dex reached the top of the stairs, I heard Bruner say, “Who's the chick, man?”

I didn't wait to hear what Dex said in reply. Instead, I led Willow inside and back up to my room. Which was, fortunately, unoccupied.

Fifteen minutes later the house was empty, except for Hannah, Avery—who was spending the night—and me. It was amazing how quickly everyone cleared out as soon as the threat of the police was raised. The guys who'd brought the keg in took it away with them.

“You get kicked off the team if you're caught drinking,” Avery explained to me as she collapsed on the sofa in the living room. The house was a mess—half-empty beer cups were littered on every available surface, magazines and plants were tipped onto the ground, the smell of sweat and smoke hung in the air. Avery reclined back, kicking off her shoes and wriggling into a more comfortable position. She didn't seem to have any intention of helping with the cleanup effort.

“What team?” I asked, picking up a few of the cups littered about.

Avery shrugged. “Football. Soccer. Cross-country track. Take your pick,” she said. “A few years ago the entire cheerleading squad was disbanded after they got busted drinking at homecoming.” She closed her eyes. “God, I am so buzzed,” she said, her speech slurring.

I left her and went into the kitchen to throw out the stack of cups. Hannah was there, already cleaning. I dumped the half-empty cups into the sink, while Hannah picked garbage up off of the floor. It was truly stunning how filthy the house had gotten in such a short period of time.

“Thanks,” Hannah said as I tossed a stack of cups into the garbage.

“No problem,” I said. “This place is a mess, though.”

“Yeah, it got a little out of control. I only invited a few people over. Twenty, tops. And I specifically said no alcohol. And then this happened.” Hannah waved a hand at the mess. “Oh, well. I'll have all day tomorrow to pick up before Mom and Richard get home. And Avery and the twins said they'd help,” Hannah said. She looked at me then, and I could tell that she felt awkward. “Miranda…would you do me a favor and not tell my mom or your dad about the party?”

Hannah was asking me for a favor? I looked around, wondering if the earth had actually stopped spinning on its axis.

“Please?” she said softly, her pretty blue eyes pleading in a way that reminded me of Willow when she was angling for a doggy treat. “Mom would be furious if she found out. She told me not to have anyone over.”

“Don't worry. I won't say a word,” I promised.

“Thanks,” she said. She smiled tentatively at me.

“No problem,” I said.

“So…I saw you go outside with Dex,” Hannah said as she turned to wipe up the kitchen counter with a damp sponge.