Heart on a Chain (10 page)

I try to follow the game, but now it’s as if I can feel her eyes on me. Quick looks back confirm that she’s still watching. After a few peeks, Henry glances down at me, then behind me to see what I’m looking at, then back at me.

“
Everything okay?” he asks.

I look back and see that she’s suddenly, intently interested in the conversation around her. My eyes narrow in suspicion.

I smile up at Henry. “Yeah, everything’s great.”

He smiles back at me. Our team scores a touchdown and his attention is drawn back to the field, whistling and cheering. I take a quick peek back and see that she’s once again glaring daggers at me. I sigh. It would be nice to have just one easy day in my life.

Our team ends up winning in a very exciting tie-breaking field goal. The kicker is hoisted up onto his teammate’s shoulders and carried off the field like that, the cheerleaders are jumping up and down, people are high-fiving and yelling—and all of that goes away when Henry pulls me into an impromptu celebratory hug, pulling my feet up off the ground as he holds me. I wrap my arms around his neck for security at the suddenly weightless sensation.

The feel of his warm solid body pressed tightly against mine is unlike anything I’ve experienced before. It’s simply a bear hug to him, but in that moment I know that whatever consequences I’ll face if my absence is found out will be well worth this moment.

It takes some time to make our way down from the stands with all of the celebrating going on. At one point Henry’s hand is ripped from mine by the flowing tide so he tucks me under his arm, holding me tightly against his side. After a minute or two of trying to figure out what to do with my hand that’s awkwardly trapped between us, I wrap it lightly around his waist.

Once we move out of the crowd, he might have released me, but instead he retains his hold. We reach his car and he relinquishes his hold to dig his keys out of his pocket. The loss of his heat and the cool fall night air cause me to shiver.

“
You cold?” he asks.

I wrap my arms around me.

“
A little, but I’ll survive.”

“
Here, I have a jacket…” He opens his trunk, pulling out a zip-front hoodie. I push my arms into the way-too-large jacket. He reaches forward and zips it up, then rubs his hands up and down my arms.

“
Better?”

“
Yes, thanks. What about you, though?”

“
I hardly ever get cold. My mom says my dad and I have built in furnaces.”

He opens the car door, shuts it behind me, and jogs around to his side. He starts the car, taking some time to turn the heat on.

“
Did you like the game?” he asks as we work our way out of the parking lot, which is still jam packed with kids just sitting in their cars, flashing their lights and honking their horns.

“
Yeah, I really did.”

“
You figured it out pretty quickly. My dad watches football on TV all the time, but after all these years Mom
still
has no idea how it works.” This complaint is given with that same amused frustration I’ve heard before when he talks about her. I wonder how it would be to have a mom worthy of such love.

Even more, I wonder how it would be to be the recipient of such an emotion from Henry.

“
It was a lot of fun. I’m really glad I came. Thank you for asking me.”

He reaches across the seat and squeezes my hand which lies in my lap, and continues to hold my hand for the rest of the ride home. He stops at the usual spot, which starts the butterflies in my stomach at what I’m going to find at home. If my luck has held, they won’t be home yet.
Yeah, right, since when do you have that kind of luck?

Since
he
came into your life
, another voice answers, surprising me with its truthfulness.

“
This is your bus stop,” he says as he opens my door. I climb out, starting to unzip the jacket to return it to him. His hand on mine stills the action.

“
Keep it. I can get it from you later.”

“
Won’t you get cold?” I ask.

“
Internal furnace, remember?”

“
Okay, well, I’ll bring it Monday.”

“
Listen, I was wondering if you might want to go do something tomorrow.”

Of course I want to, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. That isn’t my reality, though, having what I want.

“
Sorry, I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Disappointment flashes in his eyes. He nods.

“
You sure I can’t drive you home? It’s dark out here.”

If he only knew the danger isn’t here in the dark, but in the “safety” of my home.

“
No, I’ll be fine. Thanks again. I haven’t had this much fun in as long as I can remember.”

He smiles, pulls me in for a quick hug which testifies of his internal furnace, releasing me before I can even react enough to bring my arms up to return the gesture.

“
See you Monday morning then.”

“
Okay. See you then.”

I watch him drive off, then walk toward my darkened house. The car is in the driveway, but all of the lights being off are a good sign. I sneak around to the back and climb up to my window, which I had unlocked before I left. I quietly climb in, reluctantly pulling his jacket off to get ready for bed.

I pull back the covers, moving the pillows I had placed on my bed to make it look like I was in bed already. The chances of one of them actually coming to check on me were slim, but it’s best to be prepared for anything, I’ve learned. Just before sliding into bed I pull his jacket off of the chair back and put it back on, zipping it up tightly.

I climb into bed, snuggling the jacket close to me. It smells like him, I think, as I take a deep breath in the folds of the material. I relive the night, pushing out of my head the bad parts, especially Jessica, slowly reliving each moment that found my hand in his, or me in his arms. With a contented, happy sigh, I slip into sleep.

Chapter Eight

If there can be
such a thing as a peaceful weekend in my house, this is it. Whatever Friday night had been for my parents, it has somehow provided a small measure of happiness for my mom. Not that she’s been immediately transformed into a kind, loving mother, but the put downs are few, the complaints about my work almost non-existent, and I haven’t received so much as one pinch or slap.

I can’t stop thinking about Henry. Monday morning can’t come soon enough, no matter how unusually calm a weekend I’m having. I wonder where he is, what he’s doing. I wonder who he’s with, and I’m jealous of anyone being with him, no matter who it is.

I have never imagined school being something to anticipate, but here I am again, rushing to get ready and get out the door. I only wish I had something to wear that didn’t look like the obvious secondhand item it is. Mostly I own t-shirts and sweatshirts—shapeless, anonymous clothing. For the first time ever, I wish for something more feminine.

I run to the corner, then slow to a walk in case Henry is already there. He is. I smile, wondering just how early I’d have to show up to beat him here. I’m wearing his jacket in the cool morning air, having first hidden it under my books as I left the house. I could have just carried it, but I wanted the feel of it on me one more time.

“
Hey,” he calls.

“
Hey,” I say back, shyly, embarrassed, now, that I’m wearing the jacket.

I shift my books and begin unzipping it.

“
Thanks for letting me borrow this,” I begin.

He wraps his hand around mine, halting my unzipping.

“
Keep it.” My chilled hand is warmed by his.

“
I can’t—”

“
It’s cold out here.” He squeezes my hands, “I can tell you’re cold. Besides, I’ve got plenty of others.”

“
Okay, I’ll give it back after school. I’m sure it will be warmer then.”

As we ride in the warm comfort of his car, he holds his hand out.

“
Here, give me your hand and I’ll warm it up.”

I warily place my hand in his, thinking this feels a little too much like simply holding hands, something I’ve never done with anyone else. Then I decide I’m overanalyzing the whole thing. Clearly, he’s just trying to help, and I’m grateful for the sake of my cold hand, anyway.

“
I wanted to tell you…I mean, what I wanted to say was…” his voice is oddly unsure, vulnerable. He clears his throat, then starts that thoroughly distracting thing of rubbing his thumb across my palm.

“
I had a lot of fun with you Friday night.”

“
Me, too.”

He opens his mouth, closes it again, jaw clenching once before finally saying, “I was wondering if you’d be willing to give me your phone number so I can, you know, call you sometime.” I wonder if it’s normal for it to be such a big deal to have someone’s phone number. Having never had a phone—or a friend—I have no idea.

“
I’d be glad to give it to you if I could.”

He glances at me, brows furrowed with that charmingly puzzled look he sometimes has.

“
You aren’t allowed to give out your number?”

I duck my head, ashamed now. “We don’t have a phone.”

“
Oh.” That stymies him. He’s silent for a minute. “Well, that sucks.”

I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. It sucks for him? How does he think it is for me? Although, admittedly, it wouldn’t do me much good since there isn’t anyone I’d want to call, let alone anyone who would want to call me.

He smiles at my laughter. “Saturday and Sunday were long days. I really wanted to talk to you.”

I’m surprised at how his thoughts echo my own, but even more surprised that he even thought of me at all after the game. Surprised that it warms me so much to hear him say it.

“
For me too,” I tell him.

“
You think you might be able to get out again this weekend?”

“
When?” I hear myself asking, knowing it’s completely impossible.

“
Well, Saturday would be nice if you could. My mom is big on…well, pretty much every holiday. But since Halloween is almost here, she has her big annual Halloween dinner planned for this Saturday.”

“
You want me to come to your mom’s dinner?” I’m taken aback.

“
It’s not a big deal, or anything,” he rushes to tell me. “She has this big holiday themed dinner for most of the holidays before the actual holiday. Kind of a tradition, but kind of fun too, I guess. I just thought you might like it.”

“
Who would be there?” I ask.

“
Just my family.”

I feel a little queasy at the thought of being there for a family function—or anywhere for that matter. I haven’t had a lot of experience in anything that has to do with normal families.

“
But won’t your mom be mad if you bring me to your
family
dinner?”

“
Actually, she invited you.”

“
But… she doesn’t even know me.”

“
I’ve told her about you and she’d like to get to know you.” Panic floods me. Why would she want to know
me
?

Reading my mind he says, “She likes to know all of my friends.”

“
Oh.” The dread eases a little. That makes sense, I guess. That’s probably how most normal moms operate.