My Senior Year of Awesome (12 page)

I think I made a big mistake. My relationship with Andy has always been simple. He annoys me on a daily basis, and I bug the heck out of him every chance I get. Whatever just happened between us didn’t feel simple.

And I hate complexity.

Fill It In – Random List

Ten More Ways to Screw Up Your Life

1. Talk to Andy.

2. Allow yourself to be alone with Andy.

3. Get into a car with Andy.

4. Let Andy teach you how to drive.

5. Try driving a car with an untrained professional just because he claims he can also fly an airplane.

6. Look directly into Andy’s blue eyes.

7. Hug a sweaty guy after his basketball game. Sweat is sexy.

8. Allow yourself to be alone in a car with the person you were voted “Most Likely to Marry” when you don’t even like him that way. At all. Seriously.

9. Fantasize about the person you were voted “Most Likely to Marry” and imagine ten years down the line you might actually marry him. Because you won’t. See number 8 above.

10. Fall in Love with the wrong person.

My stomach flip-flops when I pull up Mr. Drum’s website on Tuesday morning. As the screen fills in, I scan for big red Fs, but find only A’s, B’s and one C. Underneath his tough guy exterior, could Mr. Drum possibly possess a sense of humor? I tap the down arrow, scrolling to my student ID number. The grade listed is “A”.

Stunned, I close out the site and re-type the address. The A is still there. Next, I check Jana’s student ID. Her grade matches mine.

In school, we greet each other with loud whoops and a running hug.

“I never have to face Mr. Drum again,” I say.

“Unless you switch one of your electives to auto shop.” She cracks a wicked grin. She highly enjoyed my driving distractions list when I recited it to her over the phone.

“Ha-ha. If you could read faster, I wouldn’t have had to die of embarrassment in front of him.”

“I am a slow reader,” she admits. She pulls our torn Fill It In list from her backpack and flattens the creases with her hand. “Acing Driver’s Ed is an awesome achievement. So, we have three items filled in. Seven more to go. Our next target area should be our social lives.”

“Lack of social lives, you mean. And the prom is coming up, so I guess we need to scrounge up some dates.”

Jana stuffs the list into her backpack. “Can we aim a little higher than last year?”

“Why, upright and breathing wasn’t good enough?”

“Not for the senior prom. This year I want gorgeous. Heart-stoppingly handsome. Prom pictures are forever, and dresses are expensive. I’m not going all out for some guy with lousy table manners.”

***

Lucky for us, on Friday afternoon I hit the social jackpot.

“Whatcha got going on this weekend, Sadie?” Dominic asks, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet on the lab table. His breath smells like Doritos. For someone who claims to be a serious athlete, he sure does like junk food.

“Nothing definite,” I tell him, meaning absolutely nothing.

“Come chill with me tomorrow night, then. My parents are opening a restaurant in Atlantic City.”

“A new Trattoria Altomeri?” Dom’s family owns and operates the best Italian restaurant in Harmony. Unfortunately, Mom and I can’t even afford the appetizers on the menu.

“Yeah, my brother finished culinary school and he’s running the place. Anyway, they’ll be out all night.”

Although this is my first personal invite to one of Dom’s parties, I pretty much know what to expect. Stories circulate around school on Monday mornings, rehashing the all-out craziness occurring whenever Dom is left home alone. Alcohol. Partial nudity. High school high jinx involving shaving cream and mud wrestling in the backyard.

Actually, from what I’ve heard, Dominic isn’t a big drinker, and he isn’t tight with the pot-smoking crowd. But he does seem to crave constant insanity as entertainment.

“I’ll try to stop by,” I say, playing it cool.

“You too, AK,” Dom says, nodding to Andy. “We should all hang out before we go our separate ways.”

“Sure, man, I’ll try to make it,” Andy agrees without lifting his eyes from his notebook. Since the driving lesson culminating in the two of us hugging it out, Andy and I have yet to revert back to our usual give and take bickering. We’re cordial, to use a boring, grown-up word, but I feel like an invisible force field now exists between us, and breaking through will only lead to certain disaster.

In fact, if this were last week, or last year even, I would express mock amazement over Andy’s response. It occurs to me that I have no idea what goes on in his social life. I’ve run into him at the movies with different girls or with Sidh, but to my knowledge, he’s never attended an alcohol party. Most likely because, his father being who he is, Andy realizes if he’s caught drinking his mug shot will be plastered on the front page of the Harmony Intelligencer. Under a headline reading
Prominent Doctor’s Son Arrested
.

***

“Let me in!” Colette’s fist pounds on Jana’s bedroom door as we dress for Dom’s party. Jana’s suffering from more outfit angst than usual, hiking herself in and out of every pair of jeans she owns. I’d settled on my go-to skinny jeans, black boots and a long-sleeved black shirt with mesh cut outs hours ago.

“Why can’t I go with you tonight?” Colette whines through the door as Jana pours herself into yet another pair of jeans, sucking in her breath as she fumbles with the button.

“Because, if you go out with us, then I’m responsible for you. And I want to have fun, for once in my life.” Swearing under her breath, Jana shrugs on a silver beaded shirt. She musses her hair with her hands to freshen up her thick waves before stomping across the room and unlocking her door.

“Sadie, will you be responsible for me?” Colette pleads, pushing past Jana and grabbing my hand. Bringing a freshman to a senior party is never a good idea, especially the freshman daughter of a well-known attorney with a draconian code of conduct. Jana comprehends the risk of underage drinking. Colette is naive. If the police raid Dom’s house, she’d probably turn herself in while the rest of us jump out the closest window.

“You know I love you, Colette, but no can do. Maybe another time.”

“Like when you’re twenty-one. Ben’s driving us, anyway,” Jana informs her as she glops on mascara and blinks at her reflection in the mirror. “He doesn’t want to hang out with freshmen.” Secretly, I find it hard to believe that Ben would refuse a direct request from Jana if she chose to allow her sister to tag along. My best friend is high on her power tonight.

“Oooh, Ben. Jana may finally snag herself a real boyfriend.” Colette puckers her lips, contorting her face into a fishy imitation of her older sister. “Wait until he finds out that you shave your legs twice a day because you’re so hairy.”

Jana picks up an eyeliner pencil and holds it above her head, as if preparing to bury the sharp point in her Colette’s chest. “I just don’t like to be all scratchy like you are, you stinking brat.”

The two of them launch into a stream of back and forth curses, mixing in French and Spanish words that one would think I’d understand after hanging out with Jana’s family for so long. But I still can’t wrap my ears around the flying gutter talk, so I take a seat on the bed and hunt around for some reading material. I hope Ben’s not waiting outside.

The monthly quiz in Jana’s latest copy of Teen People is titled “Will you still be best friends in ten years?” I dog-ear the page and make a mental note to ask Jana to fill in her answers. After World War III dies down.

A few minutes later, Mr. Rodriguez’s heavy footsteps ascend the stairs to break up the catfight. Before he reaches the third floor, Colette storms out, still screaming about Jana’s egomaniacal beauty regimen.

I set down the magazine. “How does Colette know about Ben? Did I miss something?”

Jana paces the room, still muttering trash talk. “Ben?” She smiles, as if his name is a magic word snapping her out of an evil spell. “Oh, right. Because she’s a nosy brat. She borrowed my phone after her battery died and went through my messages. Sorry, I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want to upset you. He texts a few times a day.”

“A few times a
day
?”

Jana grins and grabs the nearest canopy post for balance as she steps into her boots. “Just to say hey. Checking in, mostly.”

“And why would that upset me?”

She looks up at me. “Because no one is texting you?” I note the way she carefully phrases the statement to sound like a question.

“Do you think I want you to be unhappy, even if I die alone?”

Jana consumes herself with a stuck zipper on her boot. “No.”

“Guys have texted you to say hey before, and you’ve always felt the need to update me.”

“You’re right. But this could be …”

“Different?” I ask. “He could be the one?”

“No, not the one,” Jana says, unconvincingly. “But, he could possibly stick around for more than six weeks.”

Yikes. Jana’s on the verge of shattering her dating record.

“Good for you. At least one of us is getting somewhere with social achievements.” I toss the magazine on the bed and wrap her into a fierce hug.

I’m happy for her.

Really. I am.

Downstairs, the doorbell rings. Show time.

“Be my shield?” Jana whispers. Over the years, I’ve become an expert at providing cover for her. I run down the stairs and excitedly greet Ben like he’s my date. Ben looks confused, so before he spits out any revealing information, I grab his arm and drag him past Mr. Rodriguez, who’s waiting to launch into a parental inquisition. Jana breathes a sigh of relief as she follows a few steps behind. Outside, I hop in the back of Ben’s family minivan, and Jana sits shotgun, nervously fiddling with the radio and shifting around in her seat, an ultra-wide smile painted on her face.

So, Ben must text Jana more than he talks to her, because it’s a quiet ride through town. When we stop at a traffic light, Ben’s gaze drifts Jana’s way, as if his eyes aren’t completely under the control of his brain. I wonder if Jana senses his level of interest. If she did, my guess is that she wouldn’t be acting like she’d swallowed a handful of her Grandma’s happy pills.

I settle back into the bench seat, fading into the dark. Hopefully, a few drinks will loosen Ben up and he’ll admit his true feelings. I know better than to expect him to fall to his knees and profess undying love, but at some point he needs to move beyond the sad puppy dog eyes or even someone as date-challenged as Jana will lose interest.

Ben angles into a parking spot a few blocks north of Dom’s house, camouflaging the van between two similar family vehicles in the event police cruise through town in search of underage perpetrators. My heels dent the grass as we dash through the Altomeri’s neighborhood, stopping at Dom’s back door, where a handwritten sign informs us that tonight’s festivities are strictly BYOB.

“Did Dom tell you to bring your own drinks?” Jana asks as we nudge our way through throngs of drunken friends greeting us with the Harmony High fight song. Apparently, it’s spirit night at Dom’s house. And the sign on the door hasn’t deterred the rest of our senior class from keeping poor Dom company.

Over a rousing second verse of the anthem I holler, “He didn’t mention anything.”

“No worries,” Ben says, unzipping the gym bag he’d carried in. “I brought a six pack. Here.” Jana and I each crack open a beer. The bitter smell mixes with a cigarette stench hanging in the air, wreaking havoc on my sensory system. My vision fogs, blurring the scene in front of me.

“Cheers to Ben,” Jana says, clanking her can against mine. We take long sips, knowing we have a long way to go to catch up with everyone partying around us.

“Cool, Sadie’s here.” Dom staggers into the kitchen, grabs my hand, and tows me along with him. He tosses his empty bottle into a recycling bin. With both hands free, he locks me in a bear hug. “You look amazing.”

My face grows warm at his compliment even though I know it’s a booze-fueled statement. We cling to each other a little too tightly and a little too long. His excuse is the fact that he’s stinking drunk. I have no excuse other than my inability to suppress a desire to remain up close and personal to his kick ass abs. The ultra-toned, rock hard abs I’ve sat next to for over two months now.

Post-shameless-hug, Dom snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me further away from Jana and Ben. Everyone in the kitchen quits talking and watches us go by. As soon as Dom realizes we have an audience, he kisses the top of my head, probably because it’s the closest part of my body to his lips. I breathe in the reek of alcohol and his cologne, strong enough to function as smelling salts if I happen to pass out.

“I want to show you something,” Dom says, his words sounding slurry. “It’s upstairs. In my room.”

I gulp. “Uh, okay.” I telegraph a look of panic to Jana, but she only smiles and rolls her eyes.

Before I have time to formulate a list of the potential consequences of my actions, Dom leads me through a marble-tiled foyer with fresco painted walls, then up and around a spiral staircase. The second floor of the house is pitch dark.

“So, um, what do you want to show me?” I latch on to the top of the railing, torn between racing away or letting this scenario play out the way I’d dreamed about for years. Dom raises a finger to his lips, then throws open the nearest door and yanks me inside a cramped closet. The smell of feet makes me cough and sputter. It’s like a shoe graveyard in here, with stacks of track spikes, baseball cleats, and Nike high tops.

“We’re alone. Cool, huh?” Dom says. Okay, so maybe I truly am the stupidest person in the history of the universe, but, honestly, I expected more from Dom than seventh-grade games like spin the bottle and lock yourself in a closet with a member of the opposite sex.

I lean against the door, needing a second to think about what’s happening. But, before I move out of reach, Dom wraps his arms around me and crushes his lips on mine. His hands roam over the top of my shirt, dangerously close to areas I don’t consider open for business on a first hook-up.