The Book of Luke (17 page)

I don’t care how much self-tanner you slather on your body for a week, when it’s twenty degrees outside and you skin is sprouting goose bumps from every pore, it’s not a tan you’re thinking about. You’re just hoping you make it into the water before the guy you’re with notices you look like something that belongs in the Butterball aisle—or the fact that your nipples are standing at attention.

“Cold?” Luke asked, as if he hadn’t noticed my nipples poking through my bathing suit top.

I slipped down into the water and sat across from him on the bench. “A little bit.”

“My legs are killing me.” He made a point of rubbing his thighs, which only reminded me that there was more skin in the hot tub than bathing suit. “That was fun today.”

“Obviously you’re not counting my thoroughly humiliating wreck at the end of the day.”

“Actually, that was the most fun part.” Luke slid toward me. “You looked cute all covered in snow.”

I hadn’t been just covered in snow; I’d lost my hat and one ski about halfway up the run. My goggles were only covering one eye and I had enough snow up my back to make a decent-size snowman.

“Thanks, but it was way too painful to be cute.”

Luke slipped his hand under mine and he laced our fingers together. I wondered if it was a move he’d perfected with other girls. Maybe even in other hot tubs. I tried not to think about how good he looked or how I wanted to reach out and touch him, and instead tried to see the situation for what it was. Just another phase in the plan.

Only it didn’t feel like a phase. Or even like just part of a plan. It felt right. Absolutely one hundred percent perfect.

“Look at all the stars.” I tipped my head back and rested it against the edge of the hot tub. “Is that bright one there the North Star?”

Luke rested his head next to mine. “Well, I’d say yes if it wasn’t for the blinking blue light and the fact that it probably has a Delta logo on its side.”

I watched my North Star moving away and saw that he was right. “Plane, star, what’s the difference?”

“For our purposes, not much.” Luke turned his head toward me and placed a kiss on my nose.

“You missed,” I joked. “My lips are a little lower.”

“Then let me try again.”

This time he found his target just right.

“Can I ask you a question?” I asked.

Luke reached over and wiped a few droplets of water from my cheek. “Sure.”

How was it possible that the guy sitting next to me was the same person who devised a scale that measured the buoyancy of a girl’s breasts? Maybe Josie and Lucy were mistaken. Maybe the jiggle scale was something else entirely.

“What’s with the jiggle scale?”

Luke smiled. “What do you mean, what’s with it?”

“I mean, it’s kind of obnoxious.”

“It was just a joke, Emily. As in ha-ha funny.”

“Well, it’s not very funny. Would you like us to go around rating you guys?”

“You already do,” he told me.

“We do not.”

“Really? Then what do you call it when you comment on how some guy’s ass looks in a pair of soccer shorts?”

He had me there. “An observation,” I suggested. “At least we’re not rating you.”

“So, we’re obnoxious because we do the same exact thing you do, but we just happened to come up with a name for it?”

I knew I’d sound ridiculous if I said yes. Besides, he had a point.

“Do you still use it? The scale?” I asked.

Luke shook his head. “The scale has been retired.”

I wanted to believe him, and not just because I wanted Luke to be better than the creator of the jiggle scale. I was almost hoping that, after me, he didn’t even notice anyone else’s jiggling anymore. “Good.”

I don’t know if it was the sound of the bubbling water, the feel of Luke’s warm skin pressed against mine, or the way he slid his hand lightly down my side until it rested on my waist, but I couldn’t think of the last time I felt like this. Like I was exactly where I wanted to be with exactly the right person.

I tried to remember how Sean kissed, but all I could recall was how the last time I’d kissed him he’d tasted like a sesame bagel with a hint of garlic. And that thought alone made me lean into Luke and kiss him again. Because it was so much better.

And then I didn’t just not think of Sean, I didn’t think
period
.

This is what I wrote:

Tuesday Night—Home. All in all, a productive four days. Luke seems well on his way to improving. April deadline seems possible for an entirely new-and-improved Luke Preston.

But this is what I
didn’t
write:

My hand reached around Luke’s neck and rested on the wet curls of hair clinging to his skin. I was all too aware that the only things between us were a Victoria’s Secret Miracle Bra bikini and Luke’s nylon swim trunks. And when you think about it, those aren’t exactly hard barriers to overcome. If you wanted to.

Luke’s fingers wandered up my back until they reached the thin string of my bikini top. I know I probably should have stopped him. I probably should have been thinking about the jiggle meter and how he’d no doubt tell Owen and Matt what we were about to do. But I wasn’t. All I was thinking was that I didn’t want him to stop.

And that wasn’t just
not
part of the plan. It was downright dangerous.

T
he Monday after spring break, Lucy started lacrosse practice and Josie was busy working on the yearbook. Thank God. It saved me from having to come up with ways to avoid them. The last thing I wanted to do was spend another afternoon with Josie and Lucy talking about the guide. Or what I wrote in the guide. Or how Luke was changing because of the guide.

It was bad enough feeling guilty about my feelings for Luke. I practically couldn’t look Josie or Lucy in the eye for fear they’d see that all my talk about how everything was going according to plan was complete crap. Every time I had to replay another one of our conversations or recount what happened when Luke and I went to lunch, I managed to avoid their gazes. Because they knew me too well. And they’d be able to tell that something wasn’t right. That something was going horribly wrong. And I had to do something about it.

“Hey, Josie.” I pushed back the heavy black plastic curtain to the photo lab and stepped into the darkened room. Somehow, the idea of not being able to completely see the look on Josie’s face made what I was about to try and do a little easier.

“Look at this.” Josie held up a piece of eight-by-ten paper still dripping with developer fluid. “What do you think?”

“What is it?” I asked, tipping my head to the side as I tried to figure out what it was. In the red glow of the only lightbulb dangling from the ceiling, it didn’t look like anything I recognized.

“That tree out by the parking lot,” she told me, and I knew exactly the tree she was talking about. The trunk had to be at least five feet around and it’s been hovering over Heywood since the day the school opened. “It’s a close-up of the trunk—see that’s the bark curling up and that mark, there, is where Billy Stratton ran into it with his car that time.”

As soon as Josie said that, I saw the tree through the ragged furrows and wrinkles. I don’t know how I could have missed it. I’d seen that tree almost every day since sixth grade. The tree was even part of the Heywood Academy crest.

“That’s really cool.”

“Thanks.”

“So, I was thinking about it,” I said, “and maybe getting back together with Luke isn’t such a great idea. I mean, what if his change is just temporary and he really isn’t that different after all?”

“Well, we’ll just have to see what happens.” Josie flipped the light switch on and the sudden burst of white nearly blinded me. I rubbed my eyes and tried to get my bearings straight, which, given that I was about to try and convince my best friend that she didn’t want anything to do with Luke, wasn’t easy.

“I’m just saying, it’s not like you really liked him, you know?”

Josie stopped organizing the bottles of chemicals and turned to me. “How can you say that?”

“Because it’s not like you ever really like any guy you go out with,” I explained, not that Josie needed an explanation. Everyone knew Josie wasn’t the type to fall head over heels for a guy. “You date them for a little while and then move on.”

“Maybe I used to,” she agreed. “But Luke was different. I really liked him.”

Not exactly the response I was expecting. Or the response I wanted.

There could only be one explanation for Josie’s fixation on Luke—his status as the hottest guy in school. There was no other reason Josie would want Luke any more than she’s wanted the twenty guys she’s gone through since seventh grade.

“There are plenty of other guys who’d go out with you in a heartbeat,” I reminded her. “You don’t really need Luke, do you? Especially after what he did to you.”

Josie went back to cleaning up. “You’re right, I don’t need the old Luke, but it looks like Luke will be new and improved after you’re done with him. And that’s a Luke I’d like to have another shot with, but I appreciate what you’re trying to do. It’s sweet of you.”

Funny, I’d never use “sweet” to describe what I was doing. “It is?”

“Yeah, I know you just don’t want me to get hurt again. But who says I will? Who says Luke and I can’t end up even better than before?”

For the first time it occurred to me that the Luke Josie was waiting for was a lot like the Luke we knew in eighth grade. The Luke who sent me the valentine and candy.

“Maybe you won’t like the new Luke, either,” I suggested. “It’s not as if you liked him before he became the guy everyone wanted.”

“Maybe I was too busy lusting after Billy Stratton to notice Luke back then.” Josie shook her head and laughed at me. “Is it so hard to believe that I could really like him? You’re talking about
eighth grade,
Em. We’re totally different people now.”

There was no convincing her. And that meant that I’d have to figure out another way to get out of this. Only at that moment, the single other option I could think of didn’t seem like an option at all.

While I missed hanging out with them after school, I was grateful that my two friends had more going on in their lives than a freaking recycled notebook. Unfortunately, I didn’t.

Coming in midyear, I had no club. No sports team. Not even an invitation to help out with the set design for the drama club’s spring production—and they
always
needed warm bodies as Heywood wasn’t exactly known for its theatrical prowess. In any case, it was my last semester of high school, my last two-and-a-half months at Heywood, and I had nothing to do. But I had plenty to think about.

Mostly I thought about one of two things (three, if you counted the increasingly inspired ways I’d managed to avoid more than a three-minute phone call with my father). I thought about the college acceptances that would be arriving in my mailbox in about four weeks (I say “acceptances” because I couldn’t even fathom the idea that they’d be college rejections—although, with the way my luck had been going, I probably should have considered the possibility). And I thought about Luke. Way more than I should have.

My birthday is April first, April Fool’s Day. In the past this usually meant that my dad would say to me, “What? Today’s your birthday?” and act like he totally forgot. Which he never did, but he just liked yelling “April Fool’s!” before handing over my gift.

So when the phone rang before I even had a chance to brush my teeth, I figured it was my dad calling to wish me a happy birthday. And when my mom called my name and I went to the phone, I knew that before he got to happy birthday, he’d go through the whole April Fool’s thing. But I was wrong.

“Happy birthday,” he said, instead, cutting right to the punch line. “I can’t believe my little girl is eighteen.”

“I know, me neither,” I answered, wondering why this year he’d left out his running joke.

“Big plans today?”

“Not really, just school.”

“Well, I’m sure your mom will make it special.”

“Probably.”

There was an awkward silence and I realized how little my dad knew about what was going on in my life. I’d hardly spoken to him,
really
spoken to him, since before Christmas.

“I miss you, Emily.” He paused, almost as if he was waiting for me to say something. My dad spoke the words slowly, as if he’d been practicing them for a while, trying to get them right. There was no mistaking the tone in his voice. And the sadness almost made me forget I was mad at him. I almost forgot he was the person who stayed behind in Chicago, the one who let us leave without him, and instead remembered he was my dad.

“I’ve got to go,” he told me, his voice back to normal again. “I really wish I was there to give you a birthday kiss.”

He hung up before I had a chance to say, “Me, too.”

“I feel it’s my duty to warn you. Josie and Lucy decorated your locker with balloons and streamers.” Luke was waiting for me in the parking lot when I got to school that morning. There was no present hiding behind his back or even a card in his hand. But it didn’t bother me, even though I knew it should. Even though I knew that Josie and Lucy would wish me a happy birthday and immediately ask if Luke got me a present. But it was only eight o’clock in the morning and I already had what I wanted. Luke. “So, what’s your family have planned for your birthday?”

“Nothing special. My mom will probably get a devil’s food cake with buttercream icing from the bakery and we’ll call it a day.”

“Then I guess it’s my job to do something really good.” Luke fell into step beside me and we walked up to school. “Tell you what, meet me outside before lacrosse practice. I have a little birthday surprise for you.”

Despite myself, I perked up. “A surprise?”

“Well, yeah. You didn’t think I’d forget your birthday, did you?” Luke stopped when we reached the front door. “If you don’t mind, I’ll leave you here. I think Josie and Lucy wanted to surprise you.”

I left Luke and walked down the hall, where, as promised, six purple and pink balloons were taped to the front of my locker, along with a cardboard cutout-letter sign spelling the words
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
.

“Surprise!” they both yelled when they saw me.

“Oh my God,” I cried, pretending to be completely shocked. I even covered my mouth as if I couldn’t believe they’d gone to all that trouble. And the thing is, they couldn’t even tell I was faking it. I guess I’d become so good at hiding my real feelings they couldn’t even tell the difference anymore.

Needless to say, I could think of nothing but my little birthday surprise for the rest of the day.

“I hope it’s something good.” Josie seemed more excited about my surprise than I was. “This is the big test, right?”

I couldn’t tell Josie that it was a gift, not a test. Or that it didn’t matter what he got me. And the reason I couldn’t tell her that was simple and complex and totally beyond distressing: Somewhere along the way, Luke had become more like my boyfriend and less like a project.

I hated the idea that my birthday gift from Luke had become some sort of gauge of my progress, a way to see if I was succeeding at changing him. And I hated that Josie still saw this whole thing as an opportunity to get back together with Luke. But what made me hate myself was that I didn’t want that to happen.

“I’m taking this as a good sign. As long as it’s better than what Luke got me for Christmas, I’ll be psyched.”

“What’d he get you?” I asked.

“Nothing. So what do you think it is?” Josie wanted to know.

“I have no idea,” I admitted.

“Well, if it’s good then we can pretty much assume he’s changed for the better, right?” Josie looked to me for an answer.

So I just said, “Right.” Because I couldn’t say anything else.

After the last bell, Josie and Lucy wished me luck and I headed down to the parking lot with a mixed sense of apprehension and anticipation. Luke was leaning against his car, already in his shorts and lacrosse gear. I wanted to believe he was as good a person as I thought. I wanted to believe it so badly. Regardless of what present he got me, I knew he wasn’t as bad as Josie and Lucy made him out to be. Or even as bad as
I
made him out to be.

“Hey, birthday girl,” Luke called out when he saw me walking toward him.

Despite myself, my heart jumped.

He patted the backpack sitting on the hood of his car. “Are you ready? Because I think you’re going to really like this.”

“I’m ready,” I told him.

Luke reached into his backpack and pulled out my present. It wasn’t wrapped in fancy paper with ribbons and bows, and when Luke handed it to me I couldn’t come up with any words, not one single thing. Not even a thank you.

“Happy birthday, Emily,” Luke said.

I held it in my hands and didn’t know what to say.

“Well, what do you think?” Luke asked, a huge grin on his face. “Honestly. You can tell me the truth.”

Staring down at my hands, I didn’t know what I thought. Honestly. And the truth was, I wasn’t sure if I’d succeeded with flying colors or failed miserably.