Shark Bait (The Grab Your Pole Series) (11 page)

And as far as my maybe stalker goes? Well, the evidence as to whether Pete’s embroiled in this is thus far still inconclusive. Melissa’s been keeping a casual but close eye on him, and she says there hasn’t been anything unusual about his behavior. In fact, I haven’t really even heard or seen much of Pete during the breaks or lunch, which makes both Melissa and me think he isn’t a player in the game. Even so, Kate still feels it’d be better if we keep our agenda between the three of us.

Anyway, it wasn’t until late Thursday afternoon when Kate and I were doing homework at my house that things started to pick up again. We were lying on my bed and working on various pieces of homework when my cell phone started singing, telling me I had a text.

“Who’s that?” Kate asked without looking up from her chemistry book.

“Uhh… OH! It’s Derek!” I told her with excitement. Since this is the first I’ve heard from him since I left that message for him Monday night, I’m thinking,
FINALLY!
Jeez, Cuz…thanks for the timely response.

Kate’s head snapped up in attention. “Well?!”

I’m just gonna copy the text dialogue for you…it’ll take less time.

Derek:
hey cuz! whats up?

Me:
i need a favor 2morrow nite.

Derek:
what kind?

Me:
need u 2 take me 2 r f-ball game.

Derek:
oooh. dont no.

Me:
por favor? es muy importante.
(Like my use of Spanish there?)

Derek:
por que?
(He’s pretty quick, huh?)

Me:
hot guy!!! :-p
(I gotta be honest. I
am
asking him to skip his own game…)

Derek:
roflmao!!

Me:
well?

Derek:
get back 2 u…

Me:
incentive: check out r girls! ;-)
(Can’t hurt to throw that in, right?)

Derek:
lol we’ll see. ttyl

Me:
k thx. ttfn.
(Yeah, I still like Tigger…he’s bouncy, flouncy, trouncy, pouncy, fun-fun-fun-fun-FUN!) (And yeah, I’m a dork.)

“Okay, so I guess we still wait…” I said, frustrated. I mean really, this weekend could be a make it or break it kind of thing. If Tristan is as distractible as Kate mentioned, he might forget that he likes me at all, and it’s not like he’s done anything to make us think he hasn’t already done exactly that.

“Well, at least he didn’t say no right off the bat. Let’s cross our fingers that the mention of other girls to scam on will do the trick. That was good thinking.”

“Thanks. I think you and my sister are corrupting me.” Sarcasm. It’s not just a form of speech; it’s a dear friend.

“Oh, right! You haven’t even began to be corrupted, Camie! I’ll do my fair share for sure, but just wait until Tristan actually makes a move.”

“Humph.”

At my discontented and less than confident muttering, Kate lifted her head from her homework again. “Aw Camie…he will eventually you know. I know it’s frustrating and seems like it’s taking forever,
and
he’s being kind of a jerk, too, but I promise, you still have his attention.”

“How can you tell, Kate? I swear…I could be a ghost as far as he’s concerned.” I’ve been feeling kind of dejected. I know it hasn’t been all that long—it
is
only Thursday, and I haven’t gone to a single social event either—but still… Even the mention of possibly being “corrupted” by Tristan didn’t have its usual nerve-wracking effect on me. This waiting crap is killing me, so now my stance is; if he’s gonna do it, then for the love of God, do it already!

“Well, that’s exactly it, Camie. Do you really think he’d go from being so in to you on Monday to ignoring you so completely the very next day? I’m telling you, he’s just laying low for a bit. I think Jeff’s verbal blunder on the phone
really
spooked him and now he’s trying to fly under the radar, so to speak. He doesn’t want either of us to put together anything that happened on Monday. Poor guy. He doesn’t have a clue that he was busted before school even started that morning,
or
that we’ve joined forces to bring him to his knees,” Kate said with a diabolical chuckle and then went back to her chemistry.

I have no other choice except to take her word for it, but let me just say loud and clear that so far,
This. Sucks.

Friday afternoon rolled around and things were still a very disheartening status quo. I’ll be honest; I was in a pretty pissy mood by the time I got to English, too. I had a pop quiz in geometry that morning, which totally bites, and then I also had to bear witness to Teresa mooning over Tristan during our very short, eight-minute break between third and fourth period. Even the fact that—provided they have something to do with the English language—Mrs. Henderson lets us play games on Fridays didn’t help my mood much.

Our little group was playing what the guys were calling “Ebonics Scrabble.” The rules are simple: Regardless of how it’s spelled, if you can use it in a sentence, it counts.
However
, you actually have to use it in a sentence before you can count the points. To help you imagine how completely outlandish Jeff and Tristan got with this game, I want you to think about how many teenagers are so fond of swearing and using crude turns of phrase, as well as how popular “textese” has become. Honestly, Webster would be appalled. And like I mentioned, I think I have a fairly decent vocabulary, but being in the mood I was, I wasn’t using it in the most pleasant of ways. Kate kept throwing me looks of concern when I’d spell out my words, every one of them being overtly negative in some way. Then when I used them in a sentence, the words always came out snarky or bitchy. The guys, however, thought it was hysterical.

Now let me preface something here; even though a lot of them do it anyway, kids aren’t supposed to use cell phones in class. My parents, however, had explained to the principal that I need mine on at all times because of our family situation. They want to keep a direct line open to Jillian and me in case there’s a crisis with my mom so, I’m allowed to have mine on if it’s kept on vibrate and I’m not found abusing the privilege. Needless to say, this is the first thing that leapt into my mind when my purse started to dance towards the end of class. I should also briefly mention the three pairs of eyes that darted straight to the bag, which was doing its own version of the funky chicken. I felt beads of nervous sweat develop along my hairline when those eyes then transferred their attention to my alarmed face.

With true panic, I rolled over to dig my phone out. “Oh God.”

Kate knew why I get to keep my phone on, but the guys didn’t and I started to feel almost sick when she quickly and quietly filled them in about my mom. My hands were shaking by the time I fished my phone out and being too petrified to look at it, I handed it to Kate and held my breath. She slowly took it and almost immediately, her expression went from complete fear to one of relieved joy. She laughed and then showed me the text.

Derek:
game on! time?

I swear I thought I was gonna either cry or pass out. Instead, I flopped face first into my cushion, moaning a few obscenities about how he’d scared the living crap out of me. Only I used some much harsher language than crap and didn’t actually say “he” or use Derek’s name at all.

When I finally recollected myself, Kate handed my phone back and I sent Derek a text informing him when to pick me up. I was not oblivious to the overwhelmingly curious looks passing back and forth between Tristan and Jeff while I did this either. They were both bursting at the seams to know what was going on, but they didn’t dare ask. Kate—God love her—didn’t say a single word; instead, she just sat there with an essentially blank look on her face. If they can be so damned secretive, then so can we.

All’s fair in love and war, right?

Later that evening, Derek and one of his friends, Brandon, showed up for dinner at my house about forty-five minutes before the game was supposed to start. My mom wasn’t feeling well so she was sleeping when they got there and my dad played host; something he’s been doing more and more since my mom’s diagnosis.

We were finishing up our food when Derek—who you just wanna bow down and worship his forethought for this—asked, “Hey Uncle Kevin, what time does Camie need to be home tonight if I’m with her?”

My dad started clearing the table and asked, “What time is your curfew?”

“Oh, well since I’m almost eighteen, I don’t have a curfew anymore, but when I was Camie’s age, it was midnight. My parents upped it a half-hour each year on my birthday, too.” Derek winked at me when my dad’s back was turned.

“Makes sense. Alright…it’s a little late, but I think Mandy will be fine with that.” He came back to sit at the table again and leaned back in his chair, looking at me thoughtfully. “Cameron, your mother and I have already talked about this and we want you to know that we understand how hard it’s been for you both, but especially for you, starting high school as a sophomore in a school where you don’t know anyone. We know you probably feel like you need to do what you can to fit in…we remember all too well what being a teenager is like and we understand how difficult fitting in can be.
But
, we also know what teenagers do and the things that go on at parties when kids don’t have parental supervision. Hell, your mom and I even went to parties where the parents stayed home and supplied the booze.

“What I’m saying is that although we trust you to make good decisions for yourself, we understand you won’t have control over anyone else. So, you have two rules to follow. The first being if you think you might not make it home by curfew, or you’re having a problem getting your ride to leave, you call me. I know it’s hard to be on time when you’re not the one with the car keys, so just call and let me know if you’re gonna be late...if I need to come get you, that’s fine. Which brings me to rule number two…your mom and I want you to know that you can be open with us about anything…we’d much rather have you be
honest and safe
, than put yourself in danger by lying because you think you might get yourself or a friend in trouble. That being said, you are under no circumstances to
ever
, and I mean
never
young lady, get in a car with someone who’s been drinking or doing drugs. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, Daddy, I won’t. I promise.”

“I mean it, Cameron. I don’t care if it’s
Je
sus himself behind the wheel, if He’s been sippin’ on His own homemade wine, you call for a ride home,” my dad said sternly with a hint of an evangelical tone in his voice. “You have our word that if there’s even a need for them at all, any repercussions for misbehavior will be very reasonable, but only if you’re honest with us and follow these rules. Are we clear?”

“Yeah. Crystal.” A new warmth of appreciation for my parents spread through me. I mean, don’t I have
the
best parents a teenager could ever have? And now you see where I get my “most-excellent” witticism from, too. Oh, in case you missed the first one, that was another nod to the movie
Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure
.

My dad walked us out and told the three of us to be safe and have fun while we piled into Derek’s huge, 4x4 truck. As soon as he pulled out of the driveway Derek asked, “Okay Cuz, spill. What’s goin’ on?”

“Oh, umm, my friend Kate and I have this kind of siege planned for me to land this ridiculously hot and popular guy, and she thinks I should be at the games because it’s neutral territory, only Kate cheers and I haven’t made too many friends yet. It wouldn’t really do me any good to sit in the stands alone, you know? Plus, we both figure showing up with another guy is a bonus.”

“Oh, okay. There’s two of us though, who’s playing the role of the other guy?” He asked, nodding his understanding and agreement.

I didn’t even need to look at Brandon in the backseat. He was quiet through dinner and although there’s definitely
something
inherently alluring about him, that something also happens to be whispering a subtle warning that I think would be wise for me to just heed without question.

“Um, I think it’d better be you,” I told Derek and then turned in my seat to say, “No offense, Brandon…”

“None taken,” he said with a single, bored nod, never having shifted his focus from staring out the passenger window.

“Kissing cousins it is, then… So, who’s the guy?”

“His name is Tristan Daniels. He’s beautiful and I’ll hug him, and pet him, and squeeze him, and call him George. Hey! Maybe you can be a groomsman in our wedding,” I told my ultra-cool cousin and burst out laughing. I crack myself up sometimes. Incidentally, the whole George thing is from John Steinbeck’s Nobel Prize-winning novella
Of Mice and Men
. Or maybe it was from a Bugs Bunny cartoon. I can’t remember which.

When the guys quieted their own laughter induced by my snappy repartee, Derek started muttering to himself. “Daniels...Tristan Daniels... Why does that name sound fam—Wait, are you talking about
the
Tristan Daniels, the swimmer?”

“Yeah! You know him?!” I asked with surprise. I don’t know why I’m so shocked about this, though. Although this is a big town, a lot of kids’ parents grew up together which means most of them still keep in touch with each other, making it common for their children to know each other, too, even if they don’t go to the same school.

“Uhhh...kinda. I don’t really
know
him, but he’s something of a legend in water sports…I think he and I used to swim for Heartland a few years back, but I know for a fact our school has never won a polo game or a single swim meet he’s competed in. I mean, he’s fuckin’
fast
… Hey Brandon, do you know anything about a guy named Tristan Daniels?” Derek called over his shoulder to his friend who, according to the chirping coming from the backseat, is now playing Angry Birds on his phone.

“Uhh…yeah. Actually, you do too. He’s that guy our cheerleaders were all gaga over at that football game against them this year…the pre-season scrimmage one. Remember they all followed him to that huge Grossmont party after the game and we were all pissed about it?”