Boy in a Band (A Morgan Mallory story) (6 page)

“What
? I wasn’t listening,” Bobby answered.

             
Bullshit
I thought
he was listening
. I could feel his resentment. He obviously didn’t want me palling around with the two of them. Mathew, on the other hand, seemed glad to have me there and ignored his comment.

             
“You have pretty hands,” Mathew said, taking my hand in his.

             
It was like a bolt of lightning shot through me. Stunned, I looked down at my hand and then at Mathew. As I looked up into his eyes, Bobby burst out laughing. I turned toward the sound in time to see him roll onto his back in hysterics.

             
“Mathew, you are so corny,” he laughed.

             
I looked back at Mathew, and he smiled. I wasn’t sure if I was the brunt of the joke or what. I felt myself blush and I turned away. I hoped he was serious and not just being corny.

             
“Guys, lunch,” Sara called as she ran up to us.

             
Mathew dropped my hand.

             
“We’ve been looking for you.”

             
“We’ve been looking for you,” Mathew mimicked back at her.

“Shut up
, shit head,” she said, turning her back to him, which sent Bobby into another round of laughter.

We walked back to where we had left our shoes and
dried off our feet as much as possible before putting them back on. Then we walked across the dried grass to where everyone else was and grabbed up paper plates. Lunch was a spread of all kinds of salads and sandwiches.

“I’m starving,” Mathew said, loading potato salad onto his plate.

I realized I was too. The sight of all the food made my mouth water. There was so much to chose from it was hard to get everything on the plate. After we loaded up, we found a blanket and sat down. My feet still felt cold and wet, so I put down my plate to pull off my shoes again. It seemed that Mathew had the same idea.

“Uh
,” Mathew said as he tugged at his shoe, falling backwards into my lap, almost landing in my plate.

             
“Hey,” I said, moving my plate further to the side.

             
“Oh, sorry about that,” he said as he put his hand on my leg, pushing himself upright.

             
The fact that he’d chosen my leg to push himself up, rather than the blanket, sort of surprised me.

             
“It’s okay,” I answered as he laughed.

             
“Whatever,” Bobby said under his breath, rolling his eyes.

I was pretty sure he had
rolled into me intentionally, a playful maneuver in order to touch me. I felt the butterflies inside; I liked his touch. Bobby’s comment made me even surer it was no accident. We ate our lunch and talked about summer plans with friends and family. Other girls joined us and more conversation and laughter ensued. Some of the girls were teasing each other about boyfriends. I was enjoying my proximity to Mathew and the warmth of the sun when we were called to reload to head back to the ranch house.

“All you kids get in this Jeep so I can take a picture
,” Ann said.

There was laughter and pushing as w
e piled in. I squished in right close to Mathew. He smiled as our arms touched each other. I had the urge to hold his hand. Once Ann got the picture, we spilled out back onto the grass, and I got separated from Mathew. I was deeply disappointed to find myself in a Jeep behind the one Mathew and Bobby ended up in. I could see his blond hair shining in the sunlight. He tossed his head back as he and Bobby laughed. No doubt Bobby was relieved to have me gone.

I wondered if Mathew
had felt anything when he touched me, anything like I felt. I smiled about the driving conversation and the frog. Two things they were impressed with, and hadn’t guessed about me. I tried to concentrate on enjoying the beauty of the ranch, the rolling hills, the mustard fields, the oak trees, and the clear blue sky, trying to push Mathew out of my head. I couldn’t help but catch glimpses of the Jeep ahead and the back of Mathew’s head wishing I were seated next to him rather then Bobby.

When we got back to the ranch house
, everyone seemed to scatter. I watched as he and Bobby, along with several other kids, headed toward the barn where there was a rope swing, and I watched as they all took turns. Several of the girls shrieked as they swung out. I could hear my parents talking and saying their goodbyes behind me. I turned around and walked toward them.

             
“Thank you,” I said to the Brenner’s who were standing next to them. “It was a super fun day.”

“You’re so welcome. It was fun
,” Mrs. Brenner said.

             
“We’ll have to get together more often,” Ann said.

             
After several other goodbyes, I headed towards the car. I could see Pat was already there in the back seat with the door open. I rested my arms on the top of the door and looked back in the direction of the barn where the rope swing was still moving, but everyone was gone.

“Morgan
,” I heard Mathew call out behind me.

             
I turned around as he ran up to me.

             
“Hey, it was fun hanging with you today. You’re not such a girl after all,” he hesitated. “I mean in a good way.”

             
I wanted to reach out and touch him. The butterflies were flittering into a tight mass low in my belly.

             
“Thanks, I guess,” I said shyly.

“See you around
,” he said, slapping me lightly on the shoulder.

I looked into his blue eyes.
Yeah, see ya.

Chapter
8

“So?” Gayle asked.

We were sitting in my room, listening to records. The Partridge Family was playing; David Cassidy had just finished “I Think I Love You”,
and I was daydreaming. I had been watching their TV show and buying their records since they first came on in 1970. I'd had such a crush on David Cassidy, for years. Now I was thinking about Mathew. Him taking my hand by the creek, how his touch raced through me. The feeling was earth shattering for me, a definite reaction to his touch. No other boy had made me feel that.

             
“What?” I asked, not sure what she was referring to.

             
“You know what? Tell me about the picnic. You were so excited to go, but haven’t said anything about it. I assume Mathew was there?”

             
I smiled and Gayle narrowed her eyes at me.

             
“I haven’t even met him, and you are over the top.”

             
“I’m not,” I laughed.

             
“Are too,” she said.

             
“I definitely like him, I mean as a friend,” I corrected.

             
I’d pictured him kissing me, almost could feel his lips on mine at times.

             
“Oh, bullshit as a friend. I knew it!” she said, doing a little cheerleading rah- rah with her hands.

             
“You want to kiss him,” she taunted. “You want to kiss him, don’t you, Morgan?”

             
“Fuck off. I hate it when you turn out to be right.”

             
I told her about the picnic and what happened with Mathew.

“Sounds like he likes you too,” Ga
yle said.

             
“You think that’s what his actions mean?”

“Morgan
, he squeezed between you and Bobby in the Jeep, he asked you to go to the creek, he said you had pretty hands, and I agree with Bobby, that was so lame,” she laughed.

Gayle had a great laugh
: it was deep and real. I waited for her to go on. I was hoping what she was saying was true, that he liked me, that I wasn’t reading the signs incorrectly.

             
“He sat with you at lunch, after he ‘accidentally’ fell into your lap, then he sought you out to say good bye. Yeah, I think he likes you.”

             
Wouldn’t that be grand.
I also knew us being more than friends wasn’t practical.

             
“Gayle, he goes to another school. I will only get to see him occasionally. I don’t think there is much hope in that one,” I said.

It bummed me out that what I was saying was true.
It wasn’t like he lived around the corner either, in order for us to be together ever, it would be when our parents got together.

             
“Let get some booze together for the weekend,” I said. “Catch a buzz.”

             
“You get it. Your parents have more liquor than mine, and they get into it more. I don’t think they're as likely to notice it missing.”

             
“Probably not, let’s plan on Friday night at the creek. Ditch the other kids.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Gayle said.

My mom and Ann were
becoming good friends. With my dad gone so much, we went over to the O’Conner’s often. Sometimes it would be a short visit, Ann and mom sharing a drink or two, and sometimes it would be for an entire evening: more drinks and often including dinner. No matter what, I always hoped Mathew would be around. When he wasn’t, I felt let down. Sara, Pat, Sam, Mathew, and I would play tag, kick ball, or tether ball in the O’Conner’s backyard, and every now and then, Mathew and I would make physical contact. Some of it I was sure was planned and some the nature of the games. The best was when Mathew and I would go to his room or the garage, and he would play his guitar.

“Let’s go to my room and not tell them,” Mathew whispered in my ear.

             
We were playing hide-and-seek outside in the dark, and Mathew had pulled me with him into a cramped space behind the pines and juniper.

             
“Okay,” I answered quietly.

             
I desperately wanted out of there. I could imagine the spiders and bugs that were in those bushes. The only reason I stayed was that I was cramped in that small space up against him. I had my chest to his back and as I pushed into him more then I needed to I could feel his heart beat. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, but I figured he would find it weird.

             
“You ready?” he whispered.

“Following you
,” I replied.

It surprised me when he took my hand
, leading me along the fence behind the bushes, pausing several times to listen. I gripped his hand tight in mine, not wanting him to let go as we crept to the side yard and into the garage.

             
“You can let go of my hand now,” he said quietly, looking at me.

“Oh
,” I said, feeling silly.

             
I let his hand drop and realized that I had been holding on too tight.

             
“Nothing like a good vise grip,” he whispered, shaking his hand.

             
He reached for the back door knob, then turned to me and put his fingers to his lips. I followed him silently into the house and up the stairs into his room. I could hear the adults downstairs talking and laughing, my dad no doubt telling dirty jokes. He constantly seemed to pick up new ones on the road.

             
“I wonder how long they'll look for us?” he chuckled.

             
“It’s kind of mean.”

             
“I know,” he said, closing his door softly. “Can’t turn on the lights yet, they’ll see it.”

I didn’t respond
. The glow from the streetlight outside his window spilled a soft yellow light into the room. The room smelled like him. I wasn’t sure if it was the soap he used or if he used cologne, but it smelled nice, almost lemon, vanilla, but not. I breathed it in. He hastily swept clothes that were on his bed off to the floor and then straightened the unmade covers on the bed. He flopped down on it and chuckled again while I stood looking at him in the soft light.

“Mo
rgan, Mathew, where are you?”

             
We could hear the three of them calling from outside.

             
“Come out now,” Sara shouted.

             
Mathew smiled at me.

             
“Sit down,” he said, patting the spot next to him on the bed.

I walked over and sat down where he had indicated
, feeling a bit uncertain, but excited to be near him. We sat in silence in the dark and listened to them hunt for us. I could tell Sara was pissed off and knew Mathew was hiding from them.

             
“Let’s tell them,” I said.

“No way
,” Mathew said as he moved behind me. “Let 'em hunt.”

             
“Morgan,” I heard Pat yell, closer to the house this time.

             
I felt him put his hand gently on my head, then he slid his fingers into my hair. Shocked, I straightened my back, sitting completely upright even as I shivered, feeling my heart beat in my throat, waves of hot flushing in and out.

“Your hair is so cool, I like it
,” he said again, running his fingers through it slowly.

Between my legs tingled as he slid
his hand down to my shoulder and down my arm, coming to rest on my hip. I felt tight all over. I could hardly breath with want as I waited for him to move it, but he didn’t. The silence, the darkness, his touch; I didn’t dare break the moment. I heard the front door open and then voices. They had given up and come inside, they would find us, and the moment would vanish.

“Where are Mathew and Morgan?” I heard Ann ask.

              “Hiding from us,” Sara answered quickly.

We
could hear them running up the stairs. Muttering under his breath, Mathew removed his hand and quickly rolled off the bed, switching on the light. He moved to grab his guitar, pulling out the desk chair at the same time. He plopped himself down, ready to play. He did it all so seamlessly and easy while all I could do was sit there, angry and frustrated as we waited for the fury. When the door flew open and the three of them stood there, arms crossed across their chests, Mathew started plucking on his guitar.

“You guys suck
,” Sam said.

             
“Totally suck,” Sara said.

             
“Yeah, we’ve been out there looking for you,” Pat said, a bit hurt.

             
He was so non-confrontational, I felt bad for him.

              “That’s the funniest part,” Mathew laughed.

             
“Assholes,” Sam said, slamming the door.

Mathew laughed as we
listened to them tramp down the hall. I hadn’t moved from my spot on the bed, still flush from his touch. Mathew rotated the chair slightly so that he had his back now to the door and was facing me. I watched as he plucked, placed his fingers on the strings, and then tuned. He picked at various chords, and then started to play. I watched his hands. One of the hands I had held in the backyard, one of the hands that had touched me. They glided almost sensuously, easily across the guitar and its strings.

When he got into the music
, he didn’t seem aware of much else. As he played, I finally loosened back up and folded my legs, crossing them, getting more comfortable on his bed.
His bed.
I fantasized about him kissing me here, touching me. Gayle and I talked about sex. We knew the basics and Keri had filled in a lot of the rest for me. I wondered if he ever thought about kissing me. I was thinking about what it would feel like to kiss him when I realized he’d stopped playing. I looked up at him, feeling naked.

“Where were you?” h
e asked.

             
I felt the emotion fill my chest, my face feeling hot. The tingling I’d felt between my legs was now a dull ache.

             
“Nowhere,” I answered, looking away, pushing my feelings down.

             
“You looked like you were thinking about something serious,” he said.

“Nope, nothing serious
. Maybe feeling bad about hiding. Keep playing.”

             
He mixed it up, but his favorite was the rock-and-roll stuff. Some of it I recognized from the radio, some I didn’t. He would sing now and then, but mostly he played. His fingers moved so knowingly over the strings. When he played, his hair would flop forward over his face, and he would move with the music. When he was so wrapped up in his music, I could observe him closely. I watched his expression change with the chords and the song.
Goddamn, he was good-looking
. Somehow he seemed older than me, so comfortable with himself. He interrupted my thoughts again when he set the guitar down. I hadn’t even heard the music stop. I was looking at his lips and quickly shifted my focus to his eyes.

“There’s that look again
,” he said.

He was putting me on the spot and my thoughts had been going places I didn’t dare discuss.

              “What look?” I asked.

             
“I said
serious
before but that’s not it, somewhere else maybe.”

             
“Enjoying the music, you’re playing, that’s all,” I said.

             
“Do you have anyone you like at school?” he asked. “A guy, I mean.”

             
The question was awkward. I hesitated, trying to figure out his reason for asking. As of yet we hadn’t discussed very much about the girl, guy thing, certainly nothing about any connection between us.

             
“School’s out,” I finally answered.

             
“Duh, you know what I mean, when you are in school.”

             
“I don’t know,” I paused, thinking. “Not really. I have a lot of guy friends.”

             
I thought about some of the boys in my class, and they all seemed immature compared to him. Mathew could be immature too, but most of the time when we were alone together he wasn’t.

             
“When the guys and I get together and play, we have girls who come and hang out. Some are pretty cute. Some bring stuff.”

I pictured him playing and beautiful gir
ls sitting, watching him as I did. I felt my lips tighten at each side, I was jealous.
What stuff did he mean?