Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) (63 page)

“Hey,
this was your idea,” I reminded her.

She
did sigh then. And then she changed the subject. “So still no idea what
Jackson’s planning for tonight?”

“Nope.”
I wanted to sigh, but I was afraid Skylar would take another layer of skin off
the tips of my ears if I moved.

“Must
be something extra special.” I could see her in the mirror, and she was
grinning, which kind of made me nervous because I tended to associate Skylar’s
grins with either flirting or something sinister.

“Like
what?” I tried, hoping she might have some ideas.

“How
should I know?” she shrugged. “But he must really like you if he’s putting so
much effort into it.” She made a face, but then her expression brightened. “Mom
is going to be so jealous of your bouquet of roses.”

I
frowned. “You don’t think Dad will get her any?”

Skylar
considered for a moment before she finally said, thoughtfully, “I don’t know.
Maybe. I can’t foresee him doing anything particularly special. This morning he
probably didn’t even remember it was V-day until he read it in the paper. You
know Dad.”

I
could see her point, and even though it was just a fact of life, it also made
me a little sad. “Well, I hope he does remember and does something nice for
Mom,” I commented. “She deserves it.”

Skylar
shrugged, indifferent, as she continued to roll my hair up in the curlers.
“That’s assuming Dad doesn’t go on the warpath when he gets home.”

“Why
would he do that?” I frowned.

“Apparently,”
Skylar sighed, “Luke has decided not to play baseball this year.”

I
jerked my head, trying to turn and look at Skylar. Since she was rolling my
hair in a curler, it pulled my hair away from the scalp and I yelped in pain.

“Shit,
are you trying to give yourself a bald spot?” Skylar demanded, grabbing my chin
from behind and forcing me to face forward again.

“No,”
I winced as she continued rolling my hair. That was going to smart for a while.
I tried to ignore it by returning to the previous topic. “What do you mean Luke
isn’t playing baseball this year?” 

 “Brian
Park asked me yesterday in Calc why Luke hadn’t been at tryouts,” Skylar
explained. “So I asked Luke last night, and he said he’s not playing.”

“I’m
guessing he hasn’t told Dad yet.” No doubt we would have all heard it if he
had.

Skylar
shook his head. “I don’t know what he’s planning to do about that. Dad’s been
on him about how he won’t have the time for the band once baseball starts,
which is probably why he’s opting out of baseball.”

“Well,
it is a bit of a time suck,” I reasoned. Even back in the fall, Luke had gone
to some of the open gyms to practice with some of the other guys from his team.
Then, once the season started, it was pretty much non-stop until the end of the
school year. Last year, Luke had to take a leave from work because of baseball;
there just wasn’t the time for it.

As
enthusiastic as Luke was about the band, I could see why he wouldn’t want to
give it up for a sport he didn’t seem that interested in. He’d decided he
didn’t want to play football last spring, and Dad had taken that hard, but he’d
said, “Well, at least there’s still baseball.” I knew the fallout from this
wouldn’t be pretty.

Luke
was good at baseball, or so I’d been told. Dad had always talked about him
being able to get a scholarship and play college baseball. When he was younger,
Luke had always seemed excited by the prospect, but he was so focused on Oxide
these days. Even though baseball had been his first passion, it was clear—to
me, at least—that music was more important to him these days.

“Well,
let’s hope, for Mom’s sake anyway, that Dad doesn’t ask Luke about tryouts
tonight,” Skylar sighed. “At least you and I will be out of the house tonight.”

That
probably should have felt like a relief, but the idea of walking back into a
war zone wasn’t particularly comforting. I decided I didn’t want to spend the
rest of the evening worrying about it, though, and decided to change the
subject.

“What
are you and Scott doing tonight?”

“Not
sure.” Skylar pursed her lips as she worked at the last few sections of my
hair. “Probably dinner and then sex.”

My
eyes widened at her casual honesty. I was more than aware—mostly due to
Stevie’s lack of shyness about claiming Skylar “hasn’t gotten laid lately” or
other topics involving sex—that Skylar wasn’t a virgin. Still, these were
comments that were made indirectly when I happened to be around. This was one
of the few times Skylar had ever outright mentioned her sex life to me.

“And
he considers that his gift to you?” I questioned.

“Well,”
she began, a goofy grin spreading across her usually well-composed face. “He
is
rather talented. He does this thing with his—”

“Skylar!”
I cut her off, covering my face with my hands, as if that would block out the
awful mental image. Apparently Stevie wasn’t the only one who lacked modesty. I
had a feeling I’d never be able to look at Scott the same way again.

“Honestly,
Cecilia,” Skylar laughed. “You don’t have to be so uptight about it. I’m only
joking. We’re going to dinner and then probably a party.”

I
glared at her through the mirror. “How was I supposed to know?”

Her
smile softened into concern and she stepped around until she was standing in
front of me. “You really are nervous about tonight, aren’t you?”

“Of
course I am.” I probably should have felt embarrassed to admit it, but I
wasn’t. “Jackson’s my first boyfriend, so this is my first time celebrating
Valentine’s Day with someone. From what little tidbits I’ve been able to glean
from him, it looks like he’s planned something really nice. What if my gift for
him is stupid? I don’t want to look cheap.”

 “Listen,”
Skylar sighed, “Jackson is a good guy. If he did something nice or expensive
for you, it was because he wanted to. He’s not the kind of guy that will expect
something from you in return.”

I
bit my lip. I knew she was right, and I kind of hated it because I was so used
to Skylar acting dumb and self-centered. Why did she have to go and start
making sense?

“You’re
right,” I sighed. “I know that.”

“Then
quit worrying,” she said, digging her makeup case out from under the sink. I
hadn’t even realized she’d finished rolling my hair. 

“Don’t
use too much,” I requested as she came at me with some concealer.

She
paused, one hand going to her hip as her eyes narrowed. “Do you want me to help
or not?”

I
considering saying, “Yes, as long as I don’t look like a raccoon in the end,”
but I figured that would be a good way to piss her off and cause her to retract
her offer to help. Instead, I said, “Yes, I do.”

“Then
hush and let me do my thing,” she instructed.

I
kept my mouth shut, and Skylar went to work. I kept hoping she wouldn’t make me
look like a cheap whore. As much as I liked to joke about Skylar’s heavy
makeup, it honestly wasn’t so bad. It was more than I would wear, but only
because I didn’t think I could pull it off. Skylar’s features were stronger and
sharper than mine. Plus, she had the confidence to go with her bold look.

When
she finally told me I could open my eyes, what I saw in the mirror surprised
me. While I was wearing more makeup than usual, Skylar had used neutral colors
that helped to accentuate, rather than overwhelm, my features. Aside from the
smoky eye effect she’d given me, my makeup mostly looked natural.

“Thank
you.” I sounded just as awed as I felt as I smiled at my reflection.

“Don’t
thank me yet,” she said. “We still have to find something for you to wear and
finish your hair.”

Because
Skylar still found my wardrobe sorely lacking after a quick look in my closet,
she took the search to her clothes. “You really need to start buying some
dresses and skirts of your own,” she commented from within the depths of her
walk-in closet.

“But
I almost never wear them,” I pointed out.

“But
you need them when occasions like this arise.” Her voice was muffled, but I
could still make out her words. I shrugged to myself. I could see her point,
but I hated to tell Skylar she was right about anything.

After
a moment, she emerged from the closet, holding a dress still on the hanger. It
was navy blue with pleated lace, three quarter sleeves and a deep v-neckline.
It was lower cut than what I would normally pick, but I couldn’t deny it was
very pretty and also a bit sexy.

Skylar
held the dress up in front of me, pursing her lips before nodding. “Let’s see
this on you.”

I
wasn’t sure I had enough to fill out the chest area, but I didn’t argue. Skylar
had to help me pull my shirt off because of the curlers. Then she carefully
helped me pull the dress over my head without it snagging on my hair. Once I
straightened the top—surprised to find I could fill out the chest—and let the
dress fall down the rest of the way, it hit just below my knees.

Skylar
chewed at the nail on her pointer finger as she studied me. After a couple of
minutes, I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Well?”

Finally,
she nodded decisively. “I think this will work.” She motioned for me to turn
around and look at myself in the full-length mirror on the inside of her closet
door.

I
followed her wordless directive, and, as with when she allowed me to see my
makeup, I found myself surprised by my reflection. The dress fit better than
I’d have expected. While Skylar’s curves were more pronounced, thus resulting
in more cleavage than I had to offer, the dress looked surprisingly good on me.
Besides, I was perfectly happy keeping my newly acquired breasts under wraps. I
really wasn’t fond of the whole “if you got it, flaunt it” saying.

Skylar
stepped up behind me in front of the mirror. “You know, kid, if I didn’t know
any better, I’d think you were at least a few years older.”

“I’m
not a kid,” I groused, immediately irritated by the implication.

“I
suppose not,” she said lightly. “Anyway, let’s get these curlers out and finish
your hair so I can start getting ready.”

I
turned to follow her out of the room, but I glanced toward the corner of her
room where her art easel was set up. Although Skylar often liked to call
herself artsy, her easel had been blank almost every time I’d been in her room.
I often wondered why she wanted to go to art school since I rarely saw her
drawing, but this time her easel wasn’t empty.

Curious,
I walked over to examine her drawing. I was immediately awestruck. It was a
portrait of Scott with his head tilted to the side with a wide smile on his
face. The realness of it was amazing. She’d captured all of his features so
perfectly. It had the same lifelike quality as a photograph might have. I
smiled and tilted my head to the side as I continued to study it.

I
jumped when a felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned slightly to find Skylar
looking impatient and also a bit uncomfortable. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,”
I nodded, but I didn’t move. I turned back to the drawing. “I was just
looking.” I motioned toward the canvas, looking over my shoulder at her. “Did
you do this from memory?”

“Yeah,”
Skylar shrugged. Then she scrunched up her delicate nose in worry and pursed
her lips as she eyed the drawing. “Does it look really bad?”

“No,”
I assured her quickly. “It looks great. Just like him.”

“You
think so?” She sounded unusually unsure of herself, and I was certain Skylar
wasn’t just fishing for compliments. “I was thinking about giving it to him as
a gift, but I wasn’t sure.”

“I
think that’s a great idea,” I smiled. “I’m sure Scott will love it.”

Skylar
looked away as she muttered, “Thanks.”

It
was odd seeing her so embarrassed. Skylar was normally so confident about
everything. Or maybe she just seemed that way. I was struck with a sudden
thought that left me wondering how much of Skylar’s confidence was real and how
much of it was just bravado. It was an odd concept, but I didn’t think that I
was that far off base.

Once
Skylar was able to guide me—not so gently—back to the bathroom, she took the
curlers out of my hair and set to work on styling it. As she worked, she
explained that she was going to do something called a French twist braid from
the front around the sides and then pull the rest back into a side-swept twist.
I didn’t know what any of it meant, but the result was perfect.

I
looked so pretty; I couldn’t help but grin at my reflection. After staring at
myself for a prolonged moment, Skylar finally shooed me out of the bathroom so
she could get ready for her date, but not before I hugged her and thanked her
numerous times. Of course she was stiff and uncomfortable with the hugging, but
I was too happy to care.  Back in my room, I realized I had no shoes to wear
with the dress, so after Skylar was out of the shower, I harassed her through
the locked bathroom door. “Just go find something in my closet that matches,”
she commanded in a tone that added the unspoken words, “and leave me alone.”

After
collecting a pair of frighteningly high, crimson wedge pumps, I collected
Jackson’s present from my room and went downstairs to wait.

I
entered the living room as Dad was taking a drink from a glass. When he saw me,
he sputtered and coughed. It took him a moment to recover, and when he finally
spoke, red-faced, it was in an odd, awed tone, “Hello, Cecilia.”

“Hey,
Dad,” I greeted, sitting down on the couch. “Is Mom home yet?”

He
shook his head. “Soon, hopefully.”

I
nodded, unsure what else to say, but Dad asked, “So, big evening out with
Jackson I take it?”

I
nodded again. “Apparently so.”

“Apparently?”

“He
wouldn’t say where we’re going.”