From Where I Watch You (14 page)

I think he says something but it’s so noisy that I can’t hear, and even though we were holding hands a few minutes ago, the fact that his legs are so close to mine feels oddly intimate. His jeans are torn on the right knee and little threads grow out of it.

“Look up there.” He points, yelling. “Just between those two buildings, you can see the stars. Cool, huh?”

“It’s just the sky,” I have to yell back so he can hear me. “It’s there every night.”

“I like to appreciate things people take for granted.”

Why do I have to like a guy who says things Mom would? I stop myself from rolling my eyes because from the corner of my eye I swear I see Charlie raising his drink to the sky.

He yells, “You shouldn’t let anger and being pissed at your mom cloud up your mind and your ability to see. You shouldn’t let weed fog you up either.”

“Look, I told you I—”

“It’s okay, Sprinkles.”

The din rings in my ears. Obnoxious laughter, music, the diesel engine of the Metro outside, the whirr of a blender, the ice rattling inside a stainless steel mixer cup. “Can we go? It’s so loud in here.”

Charlie stares out the window. I don’t think he heard me.

I give up and watch the happy people stroll outside, some even smiling in at me as I try to look away. Someday I’ll be one of them. Someday, when I’m happy and in pastry school, or working in my own bakery, I’ll get the kind of happy I want and I’ll be the one smiling at sad-looking girls.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you, Sprinkles?” Charlie yells.

I don’t have the energy to yell back that he’s spent enough time around me lately to avoid restating the obvious, yet he keeps pointing it out. Instead I stare at the e in Safeway because the bulb inside flickers a little.

“So why do you hate your mom?”

I take a long sip of Coke. “I don’t hate my mom. My mom is a Jesus-loving lunatic. I hate my sister.”

Charlie’s back at my ear. “There’s nothing wrong with loving Jesus. How can you hate a dead person?”

His breath in my ear makes me shiver. “Believe me, it’s possible. You don’t know anything about it.” I want to say I saw him duck into that church so I know he probably has more in common with my mom than me.

“Fill me in.”

“So are you going to tell me why you disappeared freshman year?” I ask, getting annoyed.

“Did you really notice?”

“Only because the whole school talked about you nonstop.”

A troubled smile flickers over his face. “Nice to know you cared.”

“Charlie.” I lean in closer, trying to not yell. “We barely ever spoke to each other.”

“Remember we used to chase each other around during recess in first grade. You were my first kiss.” And he brushes his thumb across my lips, leaving my mouth feeling like he touched it with a lit match. “Tell me about your sister.”

“You should’ve let me keep smoking. Might’ve had a full confession by now. Anyway, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. Why did you leave town?”

He pulls back and crosses his arms, saying nothing.

Fine. I can play that game, too. But when he still doesn’t speak, I do. “I haven’t even told Noelle about it.” But I’m not even sure what I mean by it. There are many it s.

“I moved to California.” He sighs, maybe not having heard me. “And it wasn’t to surf or become famous.”

“Kinda figured that,” I shout.

“Your turn.”

“My sister made my life hell from the second I took my first breath.”

“That’s not it.” Charlie shakes his head at me like he knows everything. “She’s dead. You’d have to have forgiven her for some of the stuff she did. What exactly made you hate her? Death sometimes cancels out bad feelings like that, or so I’ve heard.”

I say nothing.

“You know, forgiveness is really about helping yourself, not absolving the other person of what they did. Whatever she did you should forgive her.”

“Wow, are you planning to become a shrink or a talk show host or something?” I look down at my feet and then back at him. “Does anyone know why you left Seattle?”

He shakes his head.

“You didn’t tell any of your friends?” I’m pretty shocked by this, knowing how many friends he had back then, and seeing all the friends he has now.

“Most of the friends I’ve had are just good acquaintances. There’s never been someone I could completely trust.”

I want to ask him if this includes girlfriends but I don’t. “Not one person?”

“Nope.” He sips his drink.

“I can’t imagine not having Noelle to talk to.” I don’t really mean to say it out loud, even though I can’t be sure he heard me above the din.

“You just said you didn’t tell her everything about why you hate your sister.”

“I know.” I sip my Coke. I guess I really don’t tell Noelle anything, come to think of it. “You know there are rumors? Your old friends must’ve filled you in.”

“Memories hang on people, and when you see them, it takes you back to what you’re trying to forget. So you try your best to avoid them.”

“Hmm.”

He grins over his Coke. “It’s more than you gave me, don’t you think?”

I say nothing.

“Anyway,” he continues. “I should get you home. Have to be up early for the breakfast crowd.” He makes an exaggerated, self-mocking show of flexing his biceps. “Scraping dried eggs off plates is a real bitch. I need my beauty sleep.”

I have to laugh. But then I stand up to put my coat on and I see Hayden at the back of the bar.

Charlie is still sitting, looking at his phone, and I’m thankful for the sudden distraction. I tilt my head down as I put on my coat, keeping my eyes on Hayden, who doesn’t notice me at all. He wears a white button-down shirt and a tie with jeans, and he looks older. Gone is the ball cap he always wears. Dark-rimmed glasses sit on top of his head.

A girl straddles his lap, her hands on his hips, but he doesn’t touch her because he’s holding a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Hayden squints at her while he turns his head slightly and blows smoke out of the side of his mouth. Taking another drag, he blows smoke in her face. She swats it away and he sneers. The girl leans over to whisper in his ear.
The poor girl
, I’m thinking.
Hayden is bored with her . . .

To my shock, he pushes the girl off him, hard, and she stumbles backwards, landing on her ass.

Suddenly there’s a flash of red hoodie and bobbing black ponytail. Kellen rushes past, behind Hayden and the girl. I want to go find her, but I don’t want Hayden seeing me. I don’t want to bolt from Charlie either.

The girl stands up, brushing off her rear. Now she’s in Hayden’s face pointing while he smiles at her. I can’t hear what she’s yelling at him. And no one around them pays any attention and it’s the first time I’ve ever felt bad for one of Hayden’s girls. He smashes the cigarette into the ashtray next to him and grabs at her breasts. She’s swatting his hand away with one hand and pulling up her blouse with the other.

I swallow. I can’t stop staring. This is not the Hayden I know. This Hayden makes me sick to my stomach. This Hayden is nothing like the sweet college guy that hangs out in Mom’s shop and shows me funny little videos on YouTube. This is a boob-grabbing, cigarette-smoking, tie-wearing asshole that must be drunk. Where is the Hayden that the tiniest bit of me still crushes on?

“Ready?” Charlie asks. I don’t take my eyes off the scene at the back of the bar soon enough, because Charlie turns around to look for himself.

My heart pounds and I’m not sure why since I haven’t done anything. Charlie scans the room and turns back to me, smiling. “Okay, let’s go.”

We walk in silence, and I’m disappointed that he wants to end the night so soon. I’m relieved he didn’t see Hayden. Maybe I can pretend I didn’t see him either. But I know I can’t.

We get to Mom’s café and as I start to enter, Charlie grabs my elbow.

“Kara?”

It’s weird hearing him use my name. When I look up into his eyes, the light from the street reflects and they look watery almost. He flicks his eyes between the ground and mine, then releases a sort of half-chuckle, half-sigh, and shakes his head.

“Never mind. See ya.” He turns and hurries across the street. From inside Mom’s shop I watch him disappear around the corner.

WHEN I LIE IN
bed later I still can’t get Hayden out of my head, or Charlie. A January storm blows in and the wind and hail sound like fire crackling and popping outside, trying to break through the glass. Outside my window the vine maple sways out of the sidewalk planter below. Small branches scrape along the glass like fingers, clawing to get in. I get up to peek outside.

The weather’s terrible, but there he is, and I shiver. He’s leaning against the post box on the corner, looking up at my window. I don’t think he can see me because it’s dark inside my room.

Charlie.

June: Thirteen-Year-Old Carrot’s
Summer
Fun
Before High School

Nick’s fingers press into my chin a little. “Kara?” His eyes are bright as he looks between my eyes and my mouth. “Have you ever been kissed?”

I swallow hard. My heart flutters a hundred miles an hour, bouncing off every corner of my chest. I shake my head.

He tips my chin up and dips his head down slowly. I watch his eyes close as he presses his lips onto mine. His lips are soft and warm and wonderful.

“Kara,” he whispers against my lips. “Mmm, strawberry. Close your eyes.”

I snap them shut, feeling stupid. Nick’s lips are on mine again and this time he holds my lower lip in between his. His hands are holding either side of my face. He pulls away again but only to come in from different angles. When he pulls away again I can barely breathe. I’m afraid I’m doing it wrong even though Gaby and Jen and I practiced on our hands all the time. Gaby was sort of the expert and said we did it the right way.

The way Nick smiles and the fact that his breath comes faster makes me think I’m okay.

And just as I’m feeling disappointment that it’s over, he comes back at me. This time his lips press into mine harder than before and after a moment he nudges his lower lip between mine.

“Open your mouth,” he whispers against my lips.

When I do I feel his tongue running inside my lower lip, and then deeper. I wrap my arms around his neck because it feels like the right thing to do. His hands move around to the small of my back. His weight is forcing me backwards into the armrest but it doesn’t hurt. In the back of my mind I know this is all wrong, and I can almost hear Mom standing at the top of the stairs scolding me. So many thoughts run through me, but the only one that matters is I can’t wait to tell Gaby I got French-kissed by a high school boy!

I’m not sure how much time passes before Nick pulls away, sitting back and stretching his arms over his head. “Cross that off your list, too,” he says, smiling.

My face flushes and my mouth feels swollen. “Thanks.” Thanks? I am a dork! I couldn’t think of something else to say?

He laughs and scratches his head. “Well, you’re welcome.” He leans forward and catches my chin again, giving me a short kiss before he stands up. “Happy to oblige. I’ll be right back.”

I wish he’d kiss me again and I wonder what it all means now? He’s Tad’s best friend and always over here. What happens now? Does he kiss me now whenever he gets me alone? Do we forget it? Do I tell Kellen? No way. She’d tell Mom.

The weight of all of it pushes me further into the loveseat. I look at where Nick sat and reach out, feeling the warmth he left there. I pick up one of the pillows and sniff and smell Nick’s clean smell. Then I throw it down and stand up, feeling like the biggest dork ever.

15.
Be careful not to burn your butter.

..........................................................

Working on my final cookie design at the café, I’m careful to not let Mom see. I am a nervous wreck. I can barely sleep. The contest is next week. Entering and winning is not what I’m panicked about—it’s logistics. How do I get there without Mom noticing?

Sticking my pen into the foam of my latte, I draw loopy swirls of cream and brown and wonder if Charlie is working. Dishes need washing today because the place is packed.

Most people eat Mom’s holy pea soup. They smile and look at the ceiling. Some hold hands in prayer. What the hell? Mom’s turned everyone crazy. People slurp it down because she says it’s liquid salvation, the answer to their prayers. They actually believe this, or pretend to. I suck the latte foam off my pen and go back to my cookie design.

“Hey, Sprinkles.”

I jump.

Charlie’s on his knees, leaning over the back of the other booth and resting his chin on his folded arms. “What are you doing?”

Before I can answer, he scoots out of his booth and comes to sit across from me. I think of him the other night, spying and staring up at my window.