Secret Girlfriend (14 page)

Chapter
20

I slapped the alarm clock again, wondering why the
sleep-piercing sound continued. Another ring jolted me before I realized it was
my cell phone. Late nights and comfort chocolate did not make for a good Sunday
morning.

“Hello?” I croaked.

“Babe, what are you doing tonight? I thought we could, you
know, get our runs in together.”

I shot up in bed and looked at the number on my cell. Sure
enough, it said “Chris.”

My heart dropped and then double-timed. Maybe his apology
had been sincere. Maybe he really was trying. He was calling me. He wanted to
be with me.

Luke Parker was on the other side of town
not
trying.

“Sure. I can go for a run today.”

“Great. I was thinking, you know, we could go this evening,
after it starts to cool down. Maybe talk a little?”

“Yeah,
that sounds—oh wait
. No. I
can’t go tonight.” I glanced at the clock. It was only quarter of eight. Who
called at quarter of eight on a Sunday morning?
“How about
this morning before the day gets going?”

“Yeah.
No can do. I’ve got plans
today. Just move whatever you’re doing tonight.”

I glanced at the clock again as if the time could shift and
we could fit everything in.

“I don’t think I can.”

I thought about Rachel and Jared and their newfound
relationship. If I didn’t go tonight, I could miss the whole thing knowing how
quickly those two made decisions… or she could run off and elope with him.
Where was the nearest state that wed people over sixteen without parental
consult?

And I’d promised Justin. He was convinced if I saw Luke
again without Katie—now that I had the whole story Justin-style—I’d be as
instantly in love as Rachel.

Of course, instant love usually led to instant
un
love
—especially
in Rachel’s case. She wasn’t exactly a relationship-role model. Dating expert?
Yes. Lasting past week three? Not so much. Not that I was looking for either
with Luke.

Luke was too confusing, too overwhelming. It didn’t matter
what I felt around him, because those feelings had to be him swamping me with
new emotions. Not like with Chris. Anything I thought I felt for Luke didn’t
have the long-term constancy of how I felt about Chris.

But, the thought of Luke and that Fury’s tiny-little perfect
fists pounding on his chest yesterday suddenly had me angry enough to want to
check on him. To make sure his Mr. Manners routine hadn’t let her bruise him
up.

Luke Parker. Crap.

“Come on, babe. What could be more important than us hanging
out?” It had to be my imagination, but I thought I heard a slight whine in his
voice.

“I actually have a party to go to. I just got invited last
night.” I tried to shrug it off. “You know, one of those last minute things.”

“A party?”

Was he confused or just surprised I’d been invited to one. I
mean, it was
his
fault I hadn’t gone
to Ben’s pool party.

“You know,” I kept talking.
“Just a
barbeque.”

“Where?”

I thought of lying and saying it was Rachel’s thing. I mean,
anyone would believe that. Rachel was the social one, constantly dragging me
places. People didn’t think it was weird I was there because they didn’t
notice
I was there.

“Actually, Justin Parker invited me. I don’t think you know
him. He plays baseball.”

There was a
really
long pause. You know, the kind that makes you want to say, “Hello?” even though
you’re ninety-nine percent sure the other person is still there.

I tried to picture Chris on the phone piecing everything
together. Was he angry? Annoyed? I’d told him I wasn’t hanging out with Luke
and technically that was true. But of course he’d be
there,
I mean it was at his house and all.

“Parker as in Luke?”

In the background, I heard a car horn.

“Yeah.
Justin’s his brother.”

“So, you’re going to be hanging out at Parker’s house?”

The horn sounded over his phone again.

“Well, yeah. That’s where the barbeque is.”

“Babe—” The horn
blared,
someone
was laying on it now and not letting up. The neighbors must love them. I heard
the squeaking of a screen door and Chris shouting, the phone still inches from
his mouth. “Hang on, alright? I’ve got someone on the phone.”

The door slammed shut and he was back. “You know, I thought
you said you weren’t hanging out with Parker.”

“I’m not. I’m hanging out with Justin.”

“Amy.” I could hear the frustration in his voice. “He’s
probably sucked his brother into helping him get on the team by getting on your
good side. They’re going to try to get info out of you and twist you into
helping him get the spot on the team.”

“No. It isn’t like that. Justin and Jared invited us on the
spot after dinner last night while we were shopping for a phone for Rachel.”

“Who the hell is Jared?”

“Justin’s twin.
It was just one of
those spur of the moment things after dinner.”

“Wait, you had dinner with these guys?”

“Not really. They joined us when we were done. And then, you
know, walked us to the plaza. ”

Even I realized that was starting to sound like one of those
non-date date things.

“Chris, it was just an accidental meet-up and invite.” I had
a quick flash of
why am I defending
myself
followed by a steady wave of
just
keep the peace.
“It’s not like—”

“Are you almost ready?” The voice in the background was very
clearly female.
Very clearly Cheryl.

I suddenly felt less than a dire need to explain.
Far less.
Actually, I was beginning to wonder if maybe I
should be the one demanding answers.

And then I thought,
Why
bother?

“So, it’s no big deal. You go do whatever it is you and Cheryl
are doing and I’ll see you tomorrow at the scrimmage.”

I heard the muffled sound of his phone being covered and
voices… annoyed voices.

“I have to go, but let’s talk about this.
Monday.
After the scrimmage.”

It wasn’t even a question.

“I may be hanging out with Rachel.”

“Don’t be like that—”

“Chris,” the whine sounded over the phone again. “We’re
going to be late. Can’t you talk in the car?”

“You know what, fine.
Monday.”
I
answered as if I was there with them. “I really have to get my run in this morning.
You guys have fun.”

“Ah…”

I took that as “Okay. Thanks. You too,” and hung up.

I don’t know if my inner diva was coming out, but it felt
good to assert myself.
Even if I’d been a little rude.

And besides, I was looking forward to going to the Parkers’.
The twins were fun, Tom was my boy and—as much as I hated to admit it—I
wouldn’t say no to another mom-hug from Mrs. Parker.

It was time to stop putting everything on hold for a guy who
may or may not have a girlfriend.
Actually, for either guy
who may or may not have a girlfriend.
It was becoming apparent my power
of invisibility was beginning to fail—well, with people not related to me—so, I
might as well start having a life of my own.

Chapter
21

Perky
McPerky
—I’m sorry,
Rachel—picked me up early that evening. She busted in and changed my hair,
clothes, and lack of makeup in a twirl-a-whirl of fashion the cast of
What Not
To
Wear
would
have been proud of.
All the while overflowing with excited
happiness.
And why wouldn’t she? She was in the middle of one of her
love-at-first sight binges. On top of that, she’d actually managed to fall for
a guy who did the same thing.

The drive to the Parkers’ consisted of a rapid-fire
interrogation about Jared and his family between lip gloss reapplications. I
doubt I could have told her anything she hadn’t already learned since it
sounded like she’d spent most of the day either on the phone with Jared,
IMing
Jared, texting Jared, or Twittering about Jared.

And the best news?
Katie’s parents
really had shown up to claim her.

I almost wish we had been there for that. I had to wonder
what kind of parents raised a girl who appeared so perfect, but was really just
a fruitcake looking for a Bundt pan to cling to.

Jared met us at the door, barefoot, tan and taller than
Rachel. I guess I could see the appeal. He had the Parker lopsided smile thing
waiting for her and she lit up at it.

“We’re all out back.” Jared flashed that grin at me. “And
free. Free, I tell you!”

Rachel laughed and slid her hand into his as I followed them
through the house. On the porch, Mr. Parker manned the grill while Tom helped.
And when I say helped, I basically mean repetitively flipping hamburgers that
were still raw.

On the lawn, Justin and Luke tossed a ball back and forth,
shouting for Tom to actually cook something.

“Hey! Your date’s here.” Jared slid a glance at me before
finishing his declaration, “Justin.”

Justin waved absently as he dove for a ball too far out of reach
and dashed to get it before Luke could throw another one his way. Luke scowled
at me. No surprise there.

But it was Tom who made me feel welcome.

“Amy!” I’d never heard my name sound
so
enthusiastic as he threw himself at me and wrapped his skinny, little arms
around my waist. “Guess what I’ve been doing?”

“What’s
that,
bud?” I cringed at
the nickname Luke used for him.

“I’ve been running.” His grin sculpted his face, full and a
tad bit lopsided. “I can get four mailboxes before it gets hard. And then I
count three more steps.
Just like you do.”

“That’s great Tom. All you have to do is up your distance a
little once in a while and you’ll be running 5Ks in no time.”

“Want to run down there with me?” He looked so
excited,
I considered kicking my shoes off and doing it in
my bare feet.

“Thomas, she’s a guest and not dressed for running.”

Everyone’s gaze fell to my flip-flops, but it was Luke’s I
felt. I thought my legs were on fire from him scowling at them.

I glanced down at the outfit Rachel had put me in before
letting me out the door. Every stitch of visible clothing was hers.
Miniskirt, baby tee, matching flip-flops.

And Luke was
still
scowling at my legs.

“What?” I was finding I could scowl too.

“I’ve never seen you in a skirt before.”

“It would be stupid to wear this to tryouts.”

“Most girls would.” He stepped up on the deck and stared
down at me. His eyes taking in the things I was hiding—the things I didn’t even
know I was hiding—his voice coming low in my ear as he leaned in my direction.
“So, just how many guys are you dating now?”

“You know Jared was kidding.” I angled my head enough to
face him. “How many girls are you expecting to run away from home to be with
you this weekend?”

He shook his head and bounded down the stairs, back to the
game that made slightly more sense than my life at the moment.

Rachel shifted her sunglasses from specs to headband, her
hair adjusting and flowing around it perfectly. “Maybe he and Chris aren’t the
ones who need to work on getting along.”

I sat in the lawn chair next to her, trying not to roll my
eyes as she clapped when Jared caught the ball. “He’s aiming for a baseball
scholarship. That was not
cheer
worthy.”

“It is if you’re dating him.” Rachel’s expression was so
serious that I wondered if I had crossed a line I’d never seen. “You know, Amy.
You bend over backwards for Chris, playing by his rules and puffing him up. If
Jared treated me like Chris treats you, I’d tell him to take a hike and run
over his cell phone to make sure he couldn’t retrieve my number. There’s no way
he’d be getting smiles, let alone cheers.”

This time I did roll my eyes. “Rachel, you’ve been dating
him for…” I consulted my watch. “Twenty-six hours give or take thirty minutes,
depending on if we’re counting from when he slid into the booth or when he told
the sales guy you were his girlfriend.”

“Not the point. You may not know immediately if someone’s
going to treat you well, but sometimes you know pretty quickly if he treats you
poorly.”

I sat there for another moment, waiting to see if she’d
expound, but knew where she was going from experience. When she turned her
attention back to the guys playing ball, I brushed off the skirt and joined
Thomas sitting on the stairs.

“Why aren’t you playing?”

“It still makes them
nervous,
you
know… that I’ll stop breathing.”

He looked so grown up for a moment, so old and tired, that
it just about broke my heart.

“How long’s it been since the last time you stopped
breathing?”

The childishness flashed again in a bright smile.
“Almost a year.”

Tom glanced at the guys on the lawn playing rough and
tumble, a deep
martyrless
sigh slipping past his
lips. “I know it scared them, so you know, I don’t even ask to play.”

If this is what it was like to be part of a big family, this
heartbreaking, heart-growing feeling, I’d had no idea what I’d been missing all
those years.

“You know, you and I could kick the ball back and forth. I’m
not as good as the guys, but I won’t tackle you and scare them.”

 
“I’ll get a
ball!”

Before I could kick off my shoes, he was in the house and
yelling for his mom to find an extra ball. That might be hard since the weird
game the guys were already playing seemed to involve five balls that were used
for kicking, carrying, and tossing. Not to mention bombarding each other with.
I watched them while he was inside—trying to decipher the rules—and learned
something fairly quickly.

There were none.

Or, none anyone outside the Parker man-clan could decipher.
The turmoil continued with the guys shouting scores and rules broken, calling
for replays and do-
overs
. They generally seemed to be
in agreement except for the typical male-induced scuffle that went with the
trash talking you saw in any sport.

“I’m ready.”

At the door, Tom stood with a football, a soccer ball, two
mitts and a baseball.

I couldn’t have even held them all at once, let alone do a
catch-throw thing. “You know we can’t use those all at once, right?”

He glanced toward where his brothers played their convoluted
game, and asked, “Really?”

“Yeah.
Sorry. That’s a boy game. Girls
play one game at a time.” When his face fell, I added, “So do athletes. I mean,
you don’t see Michael Phelps playing
frisbee
while he swims, right? It’s all about the focus.
Like
running.”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah, those guys have no
focus.”

“Want to join us?” he asked Rachel, using those Parker-mama
manners.

“No thanks. I’m more of a sidelines girl than an actual team
member. But I’ll definitely cheer you on.”

Tom looked up at me and grinned. “She’s going to cheer us
on. How cool is that?”

It was very cool—for the first ten minutes. And then the
very cool cheering turned into cheering Tom and mocking me.

Little by little, the brothers drifted our way. Their game
merged in and around us until they swept Tom up in it, playing more carefully but
making sure to involve him.

Trying to suck me in too, Justin threw me one of the
footballs and shouted, “Blue line two. Four points! Four points!”

Whatever that meant.

It’s a good thing I was better at catching than throwing. I
still found myself walking the ball back if it was more than a chaise lounge
length away. Between the throw-fails and the scowls still directed at me from
Luke, I was done being one of the guys and joined Rachel on the porch.

Only, that was unsafe territory too. Rachel and Mrs. Parker
were setting the table and lighting
tiki
torches
along the edge of the deck while Mr. Parker set out the hamburgers.

“So, Amy,” Mrs. Parker began as she handed me a stack of
silverware. “Rachel tells me you joined the soccer team because of a boy.”

It was way too rude to glare at Mrs. Parker.
Rachel, not so much.
So, glare I did.

“Well, not exactly
because
of him. I mean, the stats girl position has always been a coveted spot in our
school. You have to know someone to get it.”

When put like that, I could even convince myself it was just
a smart social move.

“It’s better than being on the cross-country team?” Mrs.
Parker asked.

From most adults I would have taken that as one of those
leading questions that makes you admit to some horrible life mistake that will
affect you to the grave. But Mrs. Parker was too sweet for that.

“It might not look better. But, to be honest, I never really
felt like part of the cross-country team. The girls were kind of cliquey.” I
glanced over at Rachel, surprised she wasn’t jumping in with some Dr. Phil type
comment. “Last year there were a couple seniors I’d run with, but they’re all
in college now. So, it wasn’t a big deal to leave. Running’s always been just
for me. I can always do road races if I get bit by the competitive bug.”

“As long as you’re doing what you want,” Mrs. Parker
answered in that mom-voice. “I don’t see any reason not to grab every
opportunity for all it’s worth. Just make sure you’re following what you want.
You need to chase your own dreams.”

I glanced at Rachel, still waiting for the pithy
snark
-back, but she was just looking at me, an unfathomable
expression drawing her brows down. And, let me tell you, after being BFFs for
six years, being unfathomable
is
pretty darn tricky.

We just kind of looked at each other for a minute before
Rachel finally broke into her real smile. The one she claimed to save for
actual people.

“Boys!”
One word from Mr. Parker
acted as a supreme summons. Either that or the promise of food was more potent
than the ongoing… whatever that game was.

Rachel and I stepped back to avoid the stampede, but once
the guys were at the table, they all remained standing. Well, all but Tom, and
he leapt to his feet as if it were covered in molten lava.

Mr. Parker pulled out the chair at the far end of the table
for Mrs. Parker and once she was seated, all the guys looked at me and Rachel.

And then I knew!

The Parkers were a transplanted 1950’s time-travel family
experiment. I just had to figure out how they were reporting all their future
information back to the past.

“Well?” Luke said. “Are you going to sit down or what?”

Or, not so much.

I pulled out the bench on one side of the oversized picnic
table and crawled over it. I had far less grace than Mrs. Parker as she lowered
herself into the chair her adoring husband held out for her. I was running
short on adoring men. I’d even be happy with an adoring pet at this point.

After we were seated, dinner seemed to become organized
chaos with everyone talking over one another and handing things around. I was
surprised how the older boys took care of dishing out food to Thomas. But, when
my glass was empty, it was Thomas who jumped up to fill it.

“Here, Amy. Let me get you some more tea.”

The tea sloshed over the side of my glass, leaving a pool of
dark liquid on the laminated table cover. My little gentleman’s eyes filled up,
and I could totally feel his pain. Big guys didn’t spill tea.

“Don’t worry about it, Tom. I’m way worse. I spill things so
often,
my dad won’t let me paint in the house
anymore.”

“He won’t?” Thomas asked.

“Nope.
There are little spots all
over the living room floor. I figured he wouldn’t notice, but the last time I
talked to him…”

The last time I talked to him—I mean, really talked to him?
Well, that answered that question. Not since school ended this past year
.
So, the summer
.
We’d gone the entire summer without a
conversation beyond “Did you pick up groceries” and “Move the clothes to the
dryer when they’re done.”
I wondered if it was harder for him to avoid me
with school out. Or, maybe, it was just more obvious to me.

 
“Anyway, I can’t
paint in the house,” I ended. Even I thought that sounded weak. The weight of
all those gazes, all those people seeing me, was still unfamiliar enough to
make me squirm.

Beside me, stiller than normal, Luke shifted, just enough
that his shoulder bumped mine.
Just like he’d done to Thomas
my first time there, but less guy-like.
I sat a minute, feeling the
warmth of his shoulder through my T-shirt, oddly comforted.
Oddly
annoyed.