Open Court (10 page)

We finally reached Naples Drive and relaxed. Lights from distant homes were dim but appreciated. The air turned from calm to frigid. Rain was imminent.

Eve put her hand over her heart, dumbfounded. “Wait, we're going the wrong direction!”

“Don't look at me,” Melissa said. “I'm following you.”

“We're
all
following you,” Polly said as she reached down and scraped mud splatter from her calves. “Any more great suggestions, Eve?” she asked.

“No one made you come with us,” Eve said, her tone hostile, biting. “You could've walked up Maizeland Road by yourself if you wanted.”

“Alone? In the dark? Thanks!” Polly said, and started laughing, maybe at Eve, maybe at the mud she now flung off her hands.

“So shut up,” Eve said.

I whipped my head over to Eve. Polly wasn't saying anything the rest of us weren't feeling. “Shut up” wasn't necessary. Polly stopped laughing and straightened her body. “You shut up,” she said, challenging Eve.

Eve stared at her. The space between us became brittle, heavy.

Melissa looked to me to save us all. I was sick of the drama. “Why don't both of you shut up? I'm not backtracking through the field,” I said. “Let's go. We're wasting time.”

It wasn't long before we saw two figures underneath a streetlight. “It's Luke and Bruce,” I whispered. “Don't look, don't look. Oh no.”

The boys were trying to maim each other. The Greek God flailed crusty pinecones at Bruce, who, ducking behind shrubs to gather his own ammunition, flung them back with surprising accuracy.

Luke paused, shielding his eyes from the glare of the streetlight. “Holloway?”

In a matter of seconds we stood with them underneath the misty light. Bruce Weissman was Luke's best friend. He lived along Naples Drive, attended Westland Prep, and belonged to the country club, like Luke. Polly stood suspiciously close to him, ignoring everyone else, filling the air with small talk. Her eyes were brightly lit, like a Christmas tree.

Eve stared at Bruce and Polly. I had no idea why. I bumped Eve and nodded toward Luke. I turned so no one else would hear, searching for her opinion. She touched the tip of her finger to her nose, concealing its four freckles. “Why does
he
like
you?’
she whispered, sounding nonchalant.

The cruelty of that floored me, even if it was exactly what I'd asked myself a million times. Eve probably didn't mean it with malice, but still. “Why wouldn't he?” I whispered back, echoing Polly's previous take on the situation.

Luke edged toward his iron driveway gate and motioned for me to join him. “Hey, Holloway,” he said.

“Hey.” I scooted near him and placed my hand on the cold wrought iron bars, balancing myself as I stomped some mud from my shoes.

“You guys just come from the field?”

“We were trying to take a shortcut. I don't recommend it unless you like mud,” I said.

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

He slid his fingers through his hair. A cool breeze melted into my skin. Part of his sleeve touched my arm. It was perfect. I wasn't quite as nervous as I had been the first time he talked to me at the club. That could've been a fluke; this wasn't. He
wanted
to talk to me. But the sense of danger, of risk, of peril still pressed into me—like anything could happen at any moment. Parts of my insides sparked. If that was love, I was
in it.

“Do you always walk by my house in the dark?” he kidded.

“Don't you wish.”

“Yeah, I do. Next time come in. Scale the wall.”

“Ha, ha,” I said sarcastically.

“Ha to you, Holloway.”

It was more than perfect.

“Those are your friends?”

“Uh-huh.”

He glanced over at them, looking them up and down. “Well, Polly is OK, I guess.”

“Yeah, Polly is … cool,” I said.

I glanced through the iron gate. Yard lights illuminated the lawn. The driveway curved, making only a corner of the garage visible through the landscaping. I guess they didn't want poor people looking at their house.

The wind picked up. Swirling gusts swept toward us. “Hall?” Eve said. “We should go.”

Bruce stepped away from Polly and hopped on his bike. “Yeah, Luke, I gotta go, too.”

“OK,” Luke said to Bruce, “see you tomorrow.” He turned to the girls. “Holloway will catch up in a minute.”

My muddy friends started walking. Polly shot me a look of glee.

Luke grabbed my wrist. “I have to tell you something.”

“What? Are you going to throw a pinecone at me?”

He was in my face all of a sudden, his lips pressed to mine. Luke Kimberlin was
kissing
me! It was a blur of details: the smell of rain not yet fallen, the proximity of his excellent forehead. His lips were rough, like they hadn't had ChapStick in years. He stuck his tongue in my mouth. I didn't know what to do, so I stuck my tongue in his mouth. Then my lips made a stupid smacking noise.

Suddenly Luke backed away.

My mind was spinning, spinning, spinning into some bright place, a place of excellence, of joy.

“That's what I had to tell you,” he said, letting go of my wrist. The warmth of his hand stayed with me for a few seconds and then escaped into the night air, gone forever.

“I gotta go,” I said.

He unlatched the heavy gate. “Bye,” he called.

“Bye, Luke.”

Ping-Pong-ball-sized raindrops fell: one on my nose, one on my knee, a few on my arm. A grand total of ten socked me by the time I caught up with the girls.

“What happened?” Polly asked.

“You won't believe what happened—”

“It's going to hail,” Eve said, cutting me off, taking charge, her reason perfectly legitimate. “We better run the rest of the way. We've got to get back before my mom does.”

We took off down the street, Eve first. The sky lit. A roll of thunder cracked into the black night. The heavens opened and rain pounded down. Eve's lungs let loose a battle cry as she increased her pace. Melissa whimpered a little, trying to protect her head from the rain while running at full speed.

Polly jogged next to me with a slower gait, fearless of the elements, fearless of Eve, fearless. She seized my elbow. “I don't want to wait. Tell me what happened, Hall.”

We hit a streetlight just then, and with her eyes on my face, I puckered my lips and pretended to kiss the rain. Her face got jovial. “No!” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

Eve was too far ahead of us to know or care. And for some reason I didn't care that Polly heard my news first, either.

T
he Fourth of July arrived without much fanfare. My parents invited friends over for a barbecue. Michael and Brad were in high spirits. The Fourth of July is their favorite holiday, surpassing Christmas, even. Anything involving fire or explosives gets my brothers’ immediate and unrelenting attention.

Anyway, Eve was the only one of my friends who could come; the other girls had family plans. She and I lit sparklers, sipped lemonade, and ate burgers off my parents’ new grill (they bought the grill with money from the Dead Grandpa Bonus Fund; I spared her the story). She pelted me with a zillion questions about Bruce, out of nowhere: “How long have Bruce and Luke been
friends? … Where
is
Bruce's house, anyway? … Do you think he's taller than Luke, or shorter? I'm thinking taller …”

I had no answers. And I thought she was joking, really. That night we'd seen them on the street it was clear Polly liked Bruce. Eve had stood back, silent. She'd
watched
Polly flirt with him.

“Let's go to Naples Drive,” Eve suggested.

“Right now? Why?”

“Maybe Bruce is riding his bike. If Luke likes you, maybe Bruce will like me.”

“Oh.” I didn't have the heart to tell her that Polly had already spent a solid hour on the phone with me gushing about Bruce. On the other hand, I didn't know if Bruce liked her back. So I uneasily said, “Sure, let's go.”

With feelings of fear and fun, we pedaled our bikes to Naples Drive. Though sounds of elegant parties floated over the walled estates, the street was void of life. Still, the possibility of encountering Bruce made Eve giddy for some reason. It took me a moment to gather my feelings about it.

“Let's go, Eve. He isn't here.”

“Want to bike up to Grandview Overlook?” she asked.

I didn't feel like trailing her bike up the brutal road, even for the stellar view at the top. It wouldn't be a casual ride, it'd be a race.

“Not really,” I said. “The hill is too steep. Let's go to the stables again—that's an easy ride.”

“Good enough,” she said, and started pedaling.

Boom.
She was gone.

“Eve,” I hollered.

She kept going. Faster, even. We zoomed by my practice court and the Benet Hill Center. I thought for sure she'd look back and answer me. I thought wrong.

“Eve! Slow down!”

Cars whizzed past me. I was stuck riding on the edge of crumbling pavement so I wouldn't get hit. “Eve! Wait up!”

I was screaming. She had to have heard.

I finally caught up to her at the stables when she took a breather under a mighty oak. I heaved for oxygen, unable to catch my breath, feeling nauseous.

Several potholes had been filled recently. The scent of fresh asphalt and tar nearly knocked me over.

Eve took a whiff of the stale air. “Not one of your greatest ideas, Hall,” she said, sounding irritated.

“What's the matter with you?” I said. “Didn't you hear me calling you for three miles? Can't we just ride bikes like normal people once in a while? It's not a race!”

“I felt like going fast. Sue me,” she scoffed. “You're the athlete. What, you can't keep up?”

“Riding a bike isn't a competition. It's
supposed
to be for fun,” I accused.

Eve looked off at the empty horse trails on the bluffs as if fascinated by them in some way.

“Besides, what do you care about me being an athlete? You never even watch me play.”

“You know I hate sports. They're boring.”

“They
are or
I
am? Polly watched me practice serves, and she isn't my best friend, you are.”

I used to cherish Eve for never talking about tennis or wanting to watch me play. But to Polly it was no big deal—why
wouldn't
she be interested in my game? We were friends. In comparison, Eve's disregard for it just seemed selfish.

“I don't give a crap what Polly does,” she said flatly.

“Then why are you trying to steal Bruce from her?”

Her jaw dropped. Disgust flooded her pale features. “Since when do I need Polly's
permission
to like someone? Or yours?”

“You and I have seen Luke and Bruce around the neighborhood for, like, over a year. You never
once
mentioned that you liked Bruce until you saw Polly talking to him that night on Naples Drive. You don't find that bizarre?”

The rims of her eyes turned pink like she might cry.
Eve never cried. She was truly hurt. That killed me. I hadn't really meant to pick a fight.

“I liked him
way
before that,” she said. “I'm sick of bike riding. I'm going home,” she announced.

“Wait,” I pleaded.

“What?”

“I'll talk to Luke,” I offered, forcing the words from my mouth. “Maybe Bruce does like you.” What was I saying? I'd swallowed all common sense. “I'll ask Luke about it next time I see him. I promise.”

Eve softened. She nodded a little. “OK,” she said, her eyes returning to their normal color. “Yeah, ask Luke.”

She calmly turned her bike around.

“Eve, do you actually like him?”

“I just said I did,” she said, and took off, back the way we'd come, first, first, always first, expecting me to follow. I couldn't blame her for being upset. I'd neglected Eve for weeks; she only just now made the connection. Eve's distress seemed more about Polly than Bruce. But did Eve dislike Polly because I liked her
first,
or because I liked her
at all?

Days later, I found a note in my tennis bag at the country club. It said:
Holloway meet me in your yard at ten tonight. Don't get caught. Luke.

My obsession, like a pigeon, had come home to roost.

It was inexplicably easy to sneak out of my house. I took a bunch of dramatic precautions anyway: yawned, rubbed my eyes, told my family (like they cared) I was gonna turn in early. When the moment arrived, my parents were in bed and my brothers were comatose in front of the blaring TV. I could've had a double life as a burglar; no one would've noticed.

I eased the back door open. Luke stood in the middle of the deck, waiting. In plain view. The deck light shining on him! Fear was a fist squeezing my heart. Was he stupid?

“Are you crazy? What are you doing?”

“Hi,” he said.

“Shh!”

He grabbed my hand and we crept into the cool night air. Luke holding my hand was like me serving an ace: I knew it was a possibility, but it still thrilled me when it happened. The fragrance of mowed lawns filled our nostrils.

When we reached the entrance to Naples Drive Luke got quiet, whispering his words, the nearness of his own house making him cautious. “Holloway … I like that name … Holloway.”