Don't Forget to Breathe (11 page)

Intercepting her admission was like a wallop to the gut. It hurt like hell and I wrestled with a mulish grin masking the sting. “Why did you feel it was necessary to tell me this in private?”—faking it well.

Her flighty eyebrows winged upward. “Because you’ve been out with him a few times, and I could tell you were falling. But that’s how Becket is.” Sounding sure of herself, she looked into the mirror and dabbed her pinkie at the border of her mouth fixing her lipstick. “He’s not the type to stick with one girl for too long. So I’m taking him off your hands, you should be thankful.”

I fancied smearing the pretentious grin off her red lips. “All righty then, thanks for the heads up,” I retaliated, just to be snide. “I’m going with Henry James anyway, but thanks for taking Becket off my hands. Mighty big of you.”

My rolled fist thrust open the door and my heels stomped toward our table. A hand clipped my arm. “Wanna dance?” Not a boy but an experienced man looked me over. Possibly in his twenties, he wore a goatee and a head full of black wavy hair.

“Sure,” I replied.

Like he’d won a prize, he cupped his hands on my shoulders and guided us to the dance floor. Due to the horde of people, our bodies sandwiched together undulating in sync to the tune. His proclivity to flatten his hands along my hipbone drew my ire, the guy’s fingers roamed rather freely. After two songs, I mouthed thanks for the dance, and waved—‘
See-ya
.’

Music segued into a melodious song, and he linked an arm over my retreating body. Winching me into his chest, his head leered over my shoulder and his beard chafed my cheek. Undeniably rubbing me the wrong way, he had the audacity to suck my neck. I whirled about and he smirked, thinking I was interested.

Then the man’s eyes peered over my head, and I heard, “I’m cutting in.” I smiled, hearing my savior’s voice, totally rescued. The man bowed out gracefully and I tucked myself into the secure embrace of Becket.

“That was
uncomfortable
,” I admitted.

“So you don’t mind that I took you away from him?”

“Hardly, I owe you.”

“I’ll take you up on that someday.” He offered me a devilishly handsome smile. “So the girls are having a night out at Club Seven?”

“Yes,
the girls
. Then why are you here?”

“Reggie’s spying on Nona,” he related. “Can’t keep the girl out of his sight for long. He’s hooked and tied.”

“You think?”

“Yes. He’s applying to a local college just to be near her. He received an offer from Syracuse to play ball and he turned it down.”

“How sweet.” I peeked through clutching bodies and saw Reggie and Nona dancing.

“That’s ludicrous,” he remarked. “A free ride to a great college is a dream.”

“C’est la vie—” I quipped. He applied extra pressure, hugging me into him. My eyes drifted closed as I laid my head on his chest and whiffed his intoxicating aftershave.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to the Homecoming dance with Henry?” he whispered into my ear.

My clumsy foot tripped over his, he held me tight.

“Everyone knew except me,” his tone thick. “Marcy told me today in school.”

“So then—you quickly asked Marcy?”

“No.” He hesitated for a moment. “After I heard you were going with Henry, I decided not to go at all.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

His fingers kneaded the small of my back. The stimulation was more than I could bear. He swept my hair off my shoulder, exposing the column of my neck. He leaned lower, his cheek not quite touching my skin as an appealing twinge branched throughout my body. His breath spread over my neck like warm honey. “What did you hear, Leo?”

Speechless, his mouth breezed a titillating pathway across my jaw line, spurring raw emotions. The song petered to a conclusion, my knees shaky. I clung to his broad shoulders for support, feeling perfect and right in his arms.

He pressed me all the more into his hard body and said, “I wanted to take you to the dance.”

“Then next time,”—depositing my palms on his chest and adding space—“why don’t you ask me instead of waiting until the last minute?” A flush of pink beautified his cheeks and I left him standing alone.

Marcy furnished me a fatal stare as I continued to stride directly to where Nona and Reggie were tongue thrusting. “Nona,” I cut in, “I’m going home.” Pinning my hands on my hips, I clicked my heel on the floor. “Do you still want a ride or are you going home with Reggie?”

“I’m with you, girl,” she said.

That’s my Nona. She’ll play him for all it’s worth. Reggie looked heartbroken by her announcement.

“Sorry, Babe, but I came with Leo and I’m going to leave with Leo.” After a fleeting look at my petulant stance, she figured I was in a hurry. Saying goodbye with a kiss on Reggie’s pursed lips, we threaded our way through Club Seven. I never looked back, though, felt Becket’s penetrating gaze.

An icy draft ripped through the fibers of my dress and jogging in heels was absurd, but we managed to make it to the car in one piece. I cranked the heat.

“Can you believe those boys?” Her attempt at sounding irate failed radically. “Imposing on our girl’s night?”

“Give it up, Nona. You loved it.” Her stretching smile told me what I already knew.

“So-o…what happened with Becket? Did he finally ask you to Homecoming?”

“Marcy cornered me in the restroom before the boys arrived.” I swallowed hard while making a right turn on a red light. “Becket and Marcy are going to Homecoming, together.”

Nona jerked in her seat. “No—really?”

“That’s what Marcy said.” Burning up, I lowered the heat. “When I danced with Becket, he made it sound like I had planned on going with Henry all along.”

“Where did he get that notion?” She yanked on the collar of her coat, uncovering her neck. “I can guess. Bitch Marcy is at it again. Twisting words to get what she wants.”

“I don’t understand how Becket could be that naive.” Driving past a couple of neighborhoods, we made it to Nona’s house. “He denied asking Marcy to the dance.”

“Then why’d she tell you that?”

“I told her it didn’t matter because I was going with Henry,” I said, uncertain of Marcy’s motives.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Nona banged her fist on her thigh. “You didn’t?”

“I did.”

The morning after, I massaged the kinks out of my feet, a night of dancing in heels was excruciating. Nonetheless, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Today was a sneaker day and climbed into my washed-out jeans and cable knit sweater.

When I strolled into the kitchen Dad looked prepped for work in his navy blue button-down shirt and trousers. “You’re looking good,” I flattered. It’d been a while since seeing him somewhat respectable. I suspected it wouldn’t be the best time to brooch the subject of Mom’s picture and fresh flowers in the Lucien attic.

“I had a decent night’s sleep. Feeling good.” He downed a glass of OJ, and then said, “Do you have cheerleading tonight?”

“Oh, shoot—I think so.” I’d forgotten, Mrs. Zweilger had broadcast the impromptu practice during Monday morning’s school announcements.

“I won’t be able to give you a ride home. I’m working late the rest of the week.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

Lifting his coat from the back of the chair, he pushed his arms into the sleeves. “Do you have something you’d like to tell me?”

My eyes popped to meet his. “What makes you ask that?”

“You look like you have something to say.”

“Ah…no. I have to grab my cheerleading uniform from the dryer, that’s all.”

“Make sure you eat something for dinner,” he said while walking out the door. “You’re wasting away to skin and bones.”

Like a reminder, my stomach grumbled. Snatching a granola bar, I ran to the basement to unload my uniform and stashed it in my messenger bag. Then darted out the door expecting to see Henry’s car, the driveway was empty. Trudging to the sidewalk, his car was still parked at the curb. Just as I began to walk, Henry came loping down his driveway. Seeing me, he smiled.

“I’m running late,” he said loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

Star Hallow’s temperature had dipped below freezing during the night. A hoary frost adorned the lawns, now shimmering like crystals in the rising sun. In haste I parked my butt on the sub-zero seat. Once lodged behind the wheel, the lenses of Henry’s glassed fogged.

“How was Club Seven?” he asked.

“It was fun.”

The car arrested at a red light, and Henry whipped off his glasses to clear the lenses. “I’ve been wondering if you had the courage to ask your father about your mom’s picture.”

“Not yet.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“It’s difficult.”

“Why?”

“Do you even know what happened to my mother?” I swerved on the seat to look fully at him. “You’ve never even asked about her since I’ve known you.”

“You never mentioned her.” His shoulders slumped, giving me a shifty sidelong glance. “I thought if you wanted to talk about her, you would’ve.”

“You really don’t know?” My brows pinched together, astounded. “Someone must’ve told you.”

“Wait.” He held up his hand, palm to my face. “She died, right? That’s why you go to the cemetery a lot.”

“You’re yanking my chain,” I grouched like my elderly grandfather. It was hard to believe that Henry hadn’t heard the sick details by now.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he said, bobbling his head. “I know, I know. I’m playing dumb so you’ll confide in me. I’ve heard all kinds of bullshit.”

“Well, I don’t feel like talking about it right now.” My lungs decompressed breathing out.

“After all that, and you’re not going to tell me?”

“Maybe later, tonight.”

His eyes brightened. “Great, you want to go out tonight?”

Oh, dear, I stepped right into that. “By the way, do you still want to take me to Homecoming?”

“I was planning on it.”

“Kind of sure of yourself.” I rearranged my messenger bag over my lap, turning frontward. “How’d you know I’d go with you?”

“I told that ass-wipe Kane you were going to the dance with
me
.”

My stomach dropped to my knees. “You told Becket that?”

“Yeah, he came up to me and said there was a rumor going around that Leo was going to the dance with me, and I said, ‘That’s no rumor, pal.’” Henry’s head tossed backward with an open mouthed chuckle. “It was huge to see Kane squirm.”

I groaned, shielding my eyes with my hands.

“You feeling okay?”

I wanted to cry—
I like Becket!
Why did you ruin it for me!
As an alternative, I said between tight lips, “I’ll go with you to the dance on one stipulation.”

“Huh?” He shot me a befuddled expression.

“We’re going to the dance as friends.” I repeated, “Purely on friendship.”

“Friends. I can live with that.” A second later he mumbled, “For now.”

***

I benefited from Mr. Slepe’s praise in English class. He peddled my short story like it was the second coming. Regardless of deriding sneers, I planned to dig myself out of a failing funk. Since last year, I’d flunked every subject, plummeting from honor-roll to barely making it.

After English, I rumbaed into the third floor lavatory. Destroying my newfound disposition, I stumbled on a gaggle of girls voicing heated opinions. Nona looked venomous, embroiled in a debate with Marcy. They were discussing me. The concept of exiting from the room speared through my brain.

My gaze strayed from Nona to Marcy. “What’s going on?” I queried.

Nona parted her mouth to speak when Marcy chimed, “Henry James told me he was taking you to the dance.” She had an insolent spark in her eye. “I wasn’t lying to Becket.” Bobbing heads confirmed Marcy’s statement.

Apparently, Henry perpetuated quite a coup.

“Leo never said yes to Henry,” my friend admonished. “She was waiting for Becket to ask her, and he would’ve if you didn’t butt in. You knew they just starting to go out.”

“Forgive me, Leo.” A master of disguise, Marcy’s expression morphed into astonishment. “I didn’t know. Henry sounded so positive.”

“Yeah,” Becca trumpeted. “That’s what Leo gets for scamming two guys.”

“Shut your grungy cakehole, Becca Pinarski.” Nona gripped my wrist and carted me from the bathroom into the hall. “I’m so mad. Miss bitch acting so innocent, makes me gag.”

“I came in a little late.”

“Marcy insists that Becket is taking her to the dance,” she clarified. “So I don’t know what transpired after we left Club Seven last night. She definitely got her talons into him, somehow, someway.”

“Becket must’ve been willing.” My heart wept.

“I need to move.” She commenced at a tromping stride. “When I walked in, Marcy was gloating how Becket dumped you to take her to Homecoming. That he was getting his rocks off with your skinny ass—”

“For chrissakes, she said that?”

“She said Becket’s been hounding her for a year and she finally gave in,” Nona seethed. “I wanted to drown her face in the toilet bowl. I still might.”

“I might beat you to the punch.” Coping with a lipless smile, I looked at her and said, “Thanks for having my back.”

“Oh, jeez,” Nona rolled her eyes, “we have cheerleading with them after school. That stinks.”

“Could get dicy,” I said.

“She better not get close to a toilet bowl.” We laughed in harmony.

***

The morning frost frittered away into an afternoon shine. The temp scarcely hit fifty degrees when Zweilger led us outside. The girls vied with the sights and sounds of the football team. They were on the field gearing up for the rival game against Kensington High and it took all my tenacity not to watch Becket.

It transpired into a prickly practice with Mrs. Zwielger’s constant whistle blowing and brash commentaries on our unsynchronized routines. “You girls should have this routine down pat by now.” I also had to contend with the evil eyes of Marcy and Blair.

During the stacking of the pyramid, my gaze wandered to the bleachers. As customary, Henry waited to drive me home. Coach Zweilger terminated the practice with criticism. “Today was the pits. You girls better show me some stamina on Friday.”

Off to the side a man in a trench coat headed for Henry. He said something and Henry nodded. The man sat next to him and looked out onto the field. I recognized him immediately—Detective Dyl.

My heart in overdrive, I deviated toward the bleachers. As they conversed I observed Henry’s face drained of color, his expression detached.

A few feet from them, I tripped on the walkway and fell to my knees.

Henry leapt to his feet and charged, “You lied. You said you didn’t tell them I was with you the night Dave and Skip were murdered!”

“Henry,”— breathing heavy—“I didn’t tell them.”