Starkissed (6 page)

Chapter Seven

The problem is that tomorrow is tomorrow, and I’m still stuck in today. I manage to make it through the rest of the school day without incident. Sure, in drama when Mrs. Willis asks us to pick partners, fourteen people try to pair with me, and afterschool some football player tries to give me a ride home, despite the fact I’m unlocking the door to my own car as he asks. But other than that, I make it out okay. And wonder of all wonders, maybe the rest of the school won’t believe me, but Zane, Shanae, Alex, Paul, and Tara do. Sure they’re skeptical at first, but after Caroline reasons with them (“Why on earth would Grant West want to date Sydney?”), they seem to accept the truth.

I leave school feeling relieved to be free from all the stares and questioning looks. It doesn’t even occur to me that what’s waiting at home could be far worse than what I just left behind. When I pull into my driveway I notice two things, well two cars actually. My mom’s and my dad’s. They should be at work, not home. A mild panic starts to worm through my body. I was so busy worrying about everyone at school, I didn’t even stop to consider what my parents might think about this whole debacle.

I slam the door of my Toyota and slowly make my way up the front walk. There are lots of other reasons they could be home. A mid afternoon tryst (ew), or maybe America had another soccer thing (please God).

I open the front door and slip inside. I contemplate just running up to my room and locking myself in, but before I can even complete the thought, my dad steps out of the kitchen and into the front hall – anger blazing in his green eyes. His hair looks particularly unkempt, as if he’s been pulling at it all afternoon.

“You’re home,” he rumbles.

“Um, yes.”

“Clarissa!” he calls out to my mom. “She’s here.”

Seconds later Mom appears at the top of the staircase. She sees me, smiles briefly before painting her face with a grim gaze, and then rushes down to us.

“Follow me,” Dad barks. Mom and I traipse behind him into the living room.

“Sit!” Although I’m rather disinclined to be treated like a dog, the sheer force of his anger makes my legs fold beneath me as I drop down onto the squishy surface of the large, brown couch behind me.

Mom perches on the armrest of a chair across from where I’m sitting, and Dad chooses to pace the length of the room, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“My daughter! All over the television and internet! How did this happen?”

“Tom,” Mom stands and lays a soothing hand on his shoulder. “Calm down. We talked about this.” But he doesn’t calm down. He merely looks at her, sort of swats her hand away, and then erupts once more.

“How can I calm down? And why aren’t you more upset? You’re the one who saw her on
The Today Show
this morning and nearly had a heart attack!”

“Well I was surprised, but after...”

“Wait a minute. I was on
The Today Show
?” I blurt out and stare up at them. Probably not the best thing to say, in the current climate of my dad’s anger. But how was I supposed to know TV shows were running the story, I’ve been at school all day.

“And
CNN, MSNBC, FOX NEWS
, and
The View
,” Dad shouts. “It’s everywhere.”

“Oh.”

“They’re lovely pictures,” Mom cuts in. “You look beautiful. Was that a new dress? And who did your hair? Alyssa? I mean it was kind of flat...maybe a bit of curl would have helped. But really, you looked lovely.”

“Clarissa!” Dad’s face turns beet red. Clearly her dismay isn’t up to his standards. She shrinks back, gives me a smile that says: “what can you do?” and lets him take the reins again.

He rubs his forehead. “How did this happen? How long has this Grant been your boyfriend? And why didn’t you tell your mother and me about him?”

“The thing is, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“That’s not what they’re saying on television!”

“Well it’s not true. I swear.”

“Don’t lie to me young lady.”

“I’m not. I promise. Grant West is not my boyfriend. Are you going to believe a TV show over your own daughter?”

“So you’re not dating him?” Mom looks at me and, is that disappointment I see in her eyes?

“No, I’m not.”

“Then why were you kissing him?” Dad asks, bracing his hands on his hips. He’s looking at me like I’m some kind of criminal, which quite frankly, pisses me off.

“It just happened. I met him at this restaurant I was supposed to meet Alyssa at. We talked. I didn’t even realize who he was. And then when I was leaving he kissed me.”

I realize as the words tumble out of my mouth, and as the vein on my father’s forehead begins to throb, that I’ve just messed up majorly.

“You’re telling me that you didn’t even know him? That you just let some strange boy you’d barely met kiss you?” He tosses his hands into the air. “I don’t even know you anymore.”

I probably should maintain a healthy sort of sanity about the whole thing. But the fact that he’s laying into me so severely pushes on my every nerve. It’s not like I meant to kiss Grant West! And besides, it was just one stupid kiss, hardly reason enough for my parents, well my Dad at least, to despise me. I cross my arms and narrow my eyes. “I didn’t let him...I mean I guess I didn’t push him away. But it’s not like he was all ‘hey can I kiss you?’ He just did it! One minute I’m about to climb in a cab, the next his lips are on mine. And for the love of God! It was just one kiss! Angelina runs around this place with a new guy practically every week and you never say anything! And what about that guy Ava tried to bring home from Peru?”

“I do miss Javier,” Mom sighs. Dad glares at her.

“This is different,” he shakes his head. “Your sisters aren’t parading around on the cover of tabloid magazines.”

I’m about to say, “and neither am I,” but stop myself. Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen. I can just see it now. Maybe tomorrow, the next day, or even next week, I’ll be at the drugstore or grocery store or somewhere and there will be my face on the cover of
US Weekly
or
STAR
. Maybe even
People
. Please let Kim Kardashian get engaged again before then, or maybe have Madonna adopt another baby. Just something, anything, that’s bigger news than this.

“You’re never to see this Grant again!” He says Grant’s name like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“That’s not fair!” Okay, I realize that not five seconds ago I had absolutely no intention or means actually, of ever seeing Grant West again. In fact I was cursing the ground he walked on and if I did see him, I would have been happy to slap him across the face. But that was back when it was my choice.

“Sydney, sweetie,” Mom stands and nudges Dad to the side. “What your father means is that he doesn’t feel...”

“
We
don’t, Clarissa,” Dad snaps.

“Right.” She kind of shakes her head, but goes with it. “
We
don’t feel this boy is appropriate for you.”

“Why not?” Okay I’m really losing it. I’m trying to remind myself that I hate Grant, but maybe it’s just the genetic code of a teenager. If your parents forbid something, you have to want it. I’ve never felt this before. This forceful urge to rebel. Maybe because I’ve spent my entire life being so damn complacent and good. I never get into trouble. “Because he’s famous? Smart? Talented? Rich?”

“Partly. It’s just that a boy like Grant is far too mature for you, Sydney. You’re a sixteen-year-old girl in high school and he’s…”

“So it’s his age then?” I cut her off.

Mom’s eyes practically pop out of her head. She steps back so Dad can’t see her and then throws her arms into the air and shakes her head from side to side so quickly I wonder if she’s attempting to give herself whip lash.

“What do you mean, his age?” Dad says slowly.

Crap. Crap. Crap. “Ummm...”

“How old is this boy?”

I turn and look toward the kitchen. In my negligible experience, I’ve never had any previous boy issues with regards to my parents – before now – but I’ve witnessed many arguments and forebodings on my sisters’ behalves. In general my dad is usually pretty cool, at least when it comes to me, seeing as besides that tiny blip in junior high, I’ve been terminally single since birth. But when it comes older boys, he’s ridiculously over protective. When Arianna was in ninth grade, she tried to date a senior and Dad locked her in her room for three weeks straight. I think it goes back to when Dad’s sister – at age 17, ran off and eloped with a 24-year-old guy. But Aunt Shirley and Uncle Mike are still together, so it’s not like it was some stupid whim. They loved each other.

“Is that the phone ringing?” I say meekly. “Maybe I should go check.” I start to stand.

“Sit!”

I drop back down onto the couch.

“How old?”

I grit my teeth. “Nineteen.”

“What?” his eyes are bulging now. “I thought he was your age, he was sixteen in that movie of his that Angelina always makes us a watch, and that just came out last year!”

“He was acting sweetheart,” Mom sighs and pats him on the back.

I probably could have gotten out of this okay if I hadn’t brought up Grant’s age. Sure, I likely wouldn’t have been able to wiggle out of the whole forbidding me to see him again thing. But come on, I was never going to see him again anyways. Now, though, I’m screwed.

“Grounded. You are grounded.”

“Come on! Javier was like five years older Ava!”

“She was over 18,” Mom says, but I can see that vein throbbing on Dad’s forehead again. He really didn’t like Javier. Though he won’t cop to it, he’s probably the one who called immigration.

Mom sidles up to me and whispers in my ear. “Why don’t you go to your room and I’ll try and talk your father down.”

Chapter Eight

I stomp, like a five-year-old, all the way up the stairs, down the hall, and into my room. I slam the door behind me and toss myself facedown on the bed. Despite the fact that I barely had any sleep last night and could really use a nap at this point, my eyes will not shut. My mind is too stuffed full of the day’s events and when I do try to close my eyes, all I see are pictures of Grant floating through my head. Yesterday I was just normal, run-of-the-mill Sydney. Now I’m the girl who kissed Grant West. Everyone at school is talking about me, my best friend is losing her mind at the thought of popularity, and my parents are crazy people.

I contemplate going on my laptop, but the very idea of accidentally stumbling across some news article about myself holds me back. And after what I heard downstairs, I’m a little paranoid about turning on the TV as well.

“This sucks,” I say into my pillowcase.

I roll over, and then arch my back up so I can drag my comforter out from beneath me. I then proceed to crawl beneath it and wrap it around my body. I kick off my shoes and hear them hit the wood floor – clunk, clunk – then I drag my legs up toward my chest. I stay like this for ages, listening to the sound of my breath, in and out, in and out. It’s nice in my little cocoon – quiet, dark, warm, peaceful. It almost makes me forget about...

“How could you do it!” A shrill voice cuts through the barrier of my blanket.

I push the comforter away from my face and sit up. Angelina is standing in my doorway, she’s wearing her white, blue, and silver cheerleading uniform, she probably just came from practice. Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail. But it’s her face that I’m staring at. Her gemstone blue eyes are blazing and her lips are twisted into a hateful knot.

“Do what?”

“You know I love Grant West! How could you do this to me?”

Oh great. Apparently on top of everything else, I’ve stolen my sister’s imaginary boyfriend.

“I didn’t do anything to you.”

She kicks the doorframe with her pristine white sneaker. “You’ve ruined everything.”

“I’ve ruined everything? Are you freaking kidding me?”

“God, you’re such a bitch. Your boyfriend is my soul mate. I know it.”

“First of all – he is not my boyfriend, and secondly – you’re a lunatic.”

“Oh come on Sydney,” she strides further into the room. “That’s not what you told everyone at school. Mom and Dad might have bought your lie, but not me.”

“I’m not lying! And I didn’t tell anyone he was my boyfriend.”

“That’s not what Michelle said.”

“Well then feel free to comfort yourself with the fact that Michelle is just as crazy as you are.”

She starts pacing at the foot of my bed. I watch her from my perch with equals parts anger and curiosity. What it must be like to live in her head?

She stops at the far side of the room and spins to face me. “And by the way, it’s bad enough that you stole Grant, but you’re stealing my friends too?”

“I’m not stealing your friends,” I cringe at the very thought.

“You sat with them at lunch. All Michelle could talk about at practice was you.”

“No, they sat
with
me. And I didn’t ask them to. Believe me; I don’t want to be friends with your friends.”

“Oh please. Everyone wants to be friends with them. Just admit it, you’re jealous of me and you always have been. And now you’re going to use your new boyfriend to try to ruin my life and take my place at school.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Whatever,” she spins on her heel and heads for the hallway. “Just stay the hell away from my friends.”

I climb off the bed and walk to my door. I stare is disbelief at my sister’s retreating backside. She reaches her room and steps in, slamming her door behind her.

Will the madness ever end?

“There you are,” Ava steps out of her room across the hall.

Apparently not.

***

“I can’t,” I shake my head for the fifteenth time in ten minutes.

“You owe me,” Ava presses her right hand into her hip and tilts her head.

“I do not.”

“Oh come on. You used Javier to take the heat off of you when Dad freaked out. He was just starting to forget, and now you’ve gone and stirred the damn pot. All I want is for you to just ask Grant if he’d do it. It’s just a simple question.”

“Get it through your head, I don’t know him.”

She rolls her eyes. “Sydney, please.”

“It was a kiss, that’s it. A stupid little kiss that meant nothing. I don’t have his phone number. Even if I actually wanted to, I can’t just call him and ask him to speak at your Save the Dolphins event.”

“A celebrity behind us could make all the difference. You know that.”

“That doesn’t change the facts. Grant West is not my boyfriend!” I’m getting tired of saying that. How many more times am I going to have to?

I step out of Ava’s bedroom and head down the hall. She’s quick on my tail.

“Then give me his number and I’ll call.”

I shake my head and keep walking. This is insane. Why won’t anyone believe me? Is this stupid kiss going to haunt me until the day I die?

I take the stairs two at a time. When I hit the first floor I shove my feet into a pair of purple flats and grab my coat out of the closet.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dad steps out of the living room. “You’re grounded.”

“Still?”

“It’s only been two hours, young lady. Not two weeks.”

“I am not grounded for two weeks.”

“Yes you are.”

“Dad you can’t ground her, she has to get Grant to come to my event!” Ava whines.

“You’re still in contact with him? I thought you said you weren’t?” Dad thunders.

Mom slips out of the kitchen. “What is going on in here?”

“Sydney is still speaking with Grant! After I forbade her!” He sounds like a little boy having a tantrum. I’m surprised he doesn’t stomp his foot and jut out his bottom lip.

“You are?” Mom’s face flushes with excitement.

“Clarissa.”

Angelina appears at the top of the stairs. “God what are you all bitching about?”

Ava and Dad start blathering at the same time, filling the hall with such a cacophony of sound that barely a word can be understood.

The phone rings, a long jingling trill that only myself and Mom seem to notice. She snatches the phone off the hallway table and holds it to her ear. She listens for a second, then glares at everyone

“Quiet!” She booms. Everyone shuts up.

“Oh, hello Michelle,” Mom smiles. She loves all of Angelina’s friends and thinks they’re perfect angels. Meanwhile, because Caroline has a few purple streaks in her hair, she often refers to her as ‘that Goth girl’ and asks me why I can’t make nicer friends, like Michelle. What she doesn’t realize is that Michelle is the devil and Caroline is about at Goth as a Disney Princess.

Angelina descends the stairs and holds out her hand, waiting for Mom to pass her the phone.

“Just one second,” Mom says. She looks so happy. Too happy. She pulls the phone from her ear and holds it out, not to Angelina, but me.

“Michelle wants to speak to you,” she tells me, and I’m sure she’s resisting the urge to jump up and down and sing out, “finally all my daughters are popular!”

Angelina’s face turns bright red and she lets out a high pitched shriek! “I knew it!” She shouts at me.

I take the phone from Mom and hit the end call button.

“Why would you do that?” Mom looks appalled. “Michelle is such a sweet girl. It would be so nice if you were friends with her.”

“I can’t believe you hung up on Michelle!” Angelina screeches.

“She shouldn’t be on the phone anyways,” Dad interjects, “she’s grounded.”

“But she has to call Grant!” Ava says.

I can’t take it anymore. “SHUT UP,” I scream.

Everyone goes quiet.

“You,” I point to Angelina. “I am not stealing your friends. I don’t want them. They are all yours.” I turn to Ava. “ Firstly, dolphins? We don’t even live by the ocean! And second, I am not calling Grant, because I don’t have his phone number. He is not my boyfriend and never will be. Find someone else for your event.” To my mom. “I’m never going to be friends with Michelle – on a good day – she’ a bitch, on a bad day – freshman girls hide in the bathroom and cry.” And then I finally turn to my Dad. “And I am not grounded. I did nothing wrong and you have no reason whatsoever to punish me! Grant isn’t my boyfriend. I didn’t ask him to kiss me. And I didn’t ask those photographers to take those pictures. Up until now I’ve never done anything bad – not that this is bad. I’ve never even been late for curfew! Compared to most teenagers, I’m a miracle. You’re lucky I’m your daughter. Now I’m going out for a while. Goodbye.”

I turn around and storm out the front door.

I’m unlocking my Toyota just as America pops out of the backseat of one of her friend’s mom’s cars. She sees me and rushes forward.

“Oh my God Sydney, I can’t believe Grant West is your boyfriend. Can you get me his autograph?”

“No!” I let out an exasperated screech. America stares at me as if she doesn’t know who I am. I should apologize, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Instead I climb in my car, start the engine, and reverse out of the driveway.