The Way to Game the Walk of Shame (15 page)

He looked up and caught me midstare.
Crap.
I immediately dropped my eyes and attacked the weeds in front of me as though they were Lauren’s hair. Or they had made me fail a class. He laughed under his breath, but he didn’t say anything, Thank god. Still, I didn’t dare look up again until my face stopped burning.

Having green thumbs clearly wasn’t hereditary, since both Mom and Dad loved to garden, while Kimmy and I barely knew the difference between wet dirt and mud. But the weeding itself wasn’t that bad. It distracted me. I just focused on the task at hand. See a weed and yank on it until the roots come loose. Mom was right. It really wasn’t rocket science.

It wasn’t long before Mom and Dad dusted off their hands and got up. “I think we should call it quits. It’s starting to get dark,” Dad said, already gathering the spades and shovels on the ground.

“I’ll start dinner. You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you, Evan?”

“Sure, Mrs. Simmons.”

When they left, Evan stood up and stretched. Despite my determination not to, my eyes couldn’t help watching him roll his shoulders to get the kinks out. He stooped over, picked a dandelion from the trash pile, and tucked it in my hair. I never would have thought that gesture would be romantic, but my knees got a little weak. No one had ever given me flowers before. “Come on. Let’s hang out for a bit.”

“But my homework—”

“Will still be there in twenty minutes.”

I stumbled to my feet and followed him to the hammock beneath the oak tree on the far end of the yard. He jumped on like it was a trampoline. It swung back and forth dangerously, but with his arms braced outward, he was able to keep his balance. When it finally slowed enough, Evan flopped backward. His right leg was propped up against the tree, pushing against it ever so slightly, while his other leg dangled inches above the ground.

At first I sat beside him, but the swaying kept knocking me over, and I ended up lying next to him, arms folded across my chest.

He let out a low chuckle. “You don’t do this very often, do you?”

“What? Garden?”

“Let loose. Not be so uptight all the time.”

“I’m not uptight.”

“Oh yeah?”

Suddenly, Evan reached out and swept a dirt-smeared finger down my cheek. I froze. I knew he expected me to wipe it off. But I was more aware of his hand on my face than the dirt and dust that was filled with germs and the remains of various bugs and worms—okay, so maybe I was more than a little grossed out by it.

I rested my cheek against his shoulder, deliberately rubbing it against his sweatshirt. He chuckled but didn’t move.

We rocked back and forth on the hammock. Side by side. Nothing touching other than our pinky fingers. Still keeping my eyes glued to the sky, I edged my hand even closer and nudged him. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see him give me a sideways glance before hooking his pinky with mine, linking us together as though we were promising to keep a secret. Which in a way, we were.

*   *   *

After dinner, while Evan and my mom were getting chummy over the dishes, I sat at the counter and peered out the window. There was only a sliver of pinkish-orange hue on the horizon beyond the fence. The stars were already starting to peek out.

Evan sniffed at the air a few times. “Okay, I swear I was going crazy all through dinner, but I have to ask. Is there apple pie or something somewhere? I keep smelling it.”

Mom laughed and handed him the dishes she had just washed so he could dry them. “No, I wish. I can’t bake at all. I just love the smell of apples and cinnamon.”

“Me, too. Although I wouldn’t say no to apple pie, either,” he said with a grin. “But dinner was awesome. Thanks, Mrs. Simmons.”

She waved a soapy hand in the air. “I’m glad you liked it! Come over anytime you want.”

Dad and Kimmy plopped down on either side of me with their bowls of ice cream. “Seriously, come every day if you want. We don’t get to eat as well when you’re not here,” Dad said with a grin.

Mom shot him a dark look. “Are you saying I don’t usually cook well?”

“No, just not
as
well.” His grin widened. “I love you.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the sink.

Kimmy fiddled with her curly brown hair. She had this weird dreamy look on her face. “Yeah, Mom, you made the potatoes all whipped and fancy, ’cause Evan said he likes mashed potatoes like that. I like picking out the lumps you usually have—”

Getting up from his seat, Dad rubbed the top of her head to interrupt her before Mom went nuts. “Well, lumps or no lumps, I thought it was delicious.”

“I agree.” Evan dropped the dish towel on the counter and strolled over to me. To my surprise, he took off his green-and-gray sweatshirt and wrapped it around my shoulders. “You looked kind of cold. So, ready for some physics fun?”

My mouth curled into a smile so wide that my cheeks hurt. “I’ve never heard the words
physics
and
fun
together in a sentence before.”

“I thought we already established that you don’t even know what the word
fun
means?” he quipped, dropping into Dad’s seat next to me. He grabbed my notebook and textbook from me.

“Taylor?” On my other side, Kimmy tugged on my arm. Her big blue eyes blinked up at me, a startling shade of blue that was so different from my dull brown eyes. They sparkled with excitement. “Is he your boyfriend?”

I peeked over at Evan, but he was busy flipping through my physics book with a pencil in his hand. His forehead was kind of scrunched up as he read through the assignment. I looped my arm around her shoulders and leaned toward her.

“Yeah, he is,” I finally whispered, not caring that she was probably going to tell Mom later. Or that Mom was going to go berserk on me.

Or even admitting to myself how nice that sounded.

12

-Evan-

Valentine’s Day.

Usually a day I avoided like the plague. Not only because of the sickening couples making doe eyes at each other all day, but because single chicks would be on the prowl. Not always a bad thing, unless you hooked up with one of them on Valentine’s Day. Then they’d think it was fate or some shit like that and get even clingier. Trust me.

But this year was different. This year I had a girlfriend—god, that still sounded weird to say—or whatever the hell Taylor and I were. We weren’t exactly dating, but we were way past regular friends. She was fun to hang out with. And one hell of a kisser. I wasn’t lying about that. That girl had the ability to get me hot within seconds. And I took extreme pleasure in making her kiss me in public whenever I could.

Not to mention, Brandon talked less shit about me when Taylor was around, and Mom seemed happier because of it.

Either way, I thought I’d surprise her with some flowers when I picked her up for school. Sort of as a thank-you for making my life bearable the past couple of weeks. Taylor was probably more of a pink-roses type of girl then red roses. Pink seemed sweeter.

When I grabbed my keys from the front table, I accidentally knocked over Mom’s day planner. Little business cards and sticky notes spilled everywhere, littering the ground. Mom was a hoarder when it came to business cards.

“Damn it.” I started stacking everything together when a letter caught my eye. A card with familiar handwriting on the front.
Dad’s
handwriting. To Mom.

What the hell?

I stared at the creamy yellow envelope, but the jagged handwriting didn’t change. My drawer was filled with loads of letters from him when he was in jail, or what Mom called his “work retreats.” I knew exactly where he was but pretended not to. As long as the letters kept coming. Then Mom married Brandon, and everything stopped completely. I never heard from him again. So why was he writing to Mom? And why didn’t she tell me?

Even if I was somehow mistaken about the handwriting, his name was right
there
. James McKinley, 5251 Alba Road, Destin, Florida.

Why did she say she
thought
he was “somewhere in Florida”? His address was right there. She
knew
exactly where he lived, and she never told me. Never mentioned a visit, despite the fact that she knew I missed him.

My mind raced with unanswered questions, but Mom wasn’t home to answer them. Brandon had taken her away for some fancy spa day. I didn’t know if I wanted to know the answers, anyway. I just—I just needed to get out of here. To get away. I shoved the card back in her bag and stumbled to my feet.

My head was still in a daze, and my stomach clenched as though I’d been punched in the gut. Repeatedly. But somehow I miraculously made it out the door and into my car. But I didn’t drive. Not yet. I cranked up my radio as loud as I could, not caring what song was on. I didn’t even know what station it was. My breath came out in a steady stream, and all I could do was concentrate on breathing until the noise filled my head and I couldn’t think anymore.

My ears were still ringing when I finally pulled up to Taylor’s house. She was already sitting on the front steps, waiting. Her left hand tapped a rhythm against her thigh while she muttered something to herself. Probably cursing at me. A frown crossed her face when she spotted me. As ridiculous as it sounds, I was happy to see that frown. To me, that was the most beautiful sight in the world. At least I knew I couldn’t obsess about my dad while she was lecturing me.

“You’re late,” she said as soon as she opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. Taylor heaved a heavy sigh before dropping her bag at her feet and clicking on her seat belt, all while still not looking at me. “And now so am I.”

“Sorry.”

That’s all I said, but her head snapped up to look at me as though I had poured out all my problems in that one word. Her eyes searched my face for answers. Shit. Damn her and her intuition. I gave her a wide smile, but she still didn’t look convinced.

“It’s okay. It’s not like anything important happens in homeroom, anyway.” She carefully eyed me again before patting the dashboard. “Was Rudy giving you trouble or something?”

“No.”

Our conversation died down, and though occasionally Taylor attempted to cheer me up, she couldn’t erase my somber mood. At this point, I didn’t think anything could.

There was always a tiny part of me that wondered if Dad hadn’t fought for us because he didn’t want us anymore. The fact that he was still in contact with Mom, yet never bothered to call or even write a postcard to me, made me wonder if I was the problem.

Shit. It was just so much easier to blame Brandon.

Taylor was concentrating so hard on figuring out what else to say that there were little frown lines on her forehead while she gnawed on her lower lip. Somehow, she managed to look like both a little kid and an old lady at the same time.

Despite my crappy mood, I couldn’t help smiling at her. Something red poked out beneath her dark hair. What in the world … my fingers gently ruffled through her smooth hair and pulled out a single bright-red rose petal. “What’s this?”

“What?” She reached behind her head and grasped my hand. The petal crumbled between our fingers. She squinted at it for a moment as though even
she
didn’t know why it was there. “Oh, Dad asked me to help him with Mom’s Valentine’s Day surprise. We sprinkled rose petals around her while she was sleeping. Until Kimmy stepped on a thorn and started yelling.” With a shake of her head, she laughed and dropped it in the ashtray between us.

Roses. The grocery store.
I smacked my palm against my forehead. “Shit.”

She stopped fiddling with the radio and glanced over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I was going to get you some roses from the store.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

But it wasn’t fine. It only reminded me of
why
I had forgotten to get the flowers in the first place. My stomach tightened again as I gripped the steering wheel. My knuckles grew taut and pale, and I felt sick. Screw school. “Listen, I’m going to drop you off at the front steps, okay? So no one will see me.”

“You’re not going to class?”

I forced myself to loosen my grip and drummed a beat on the steering wheel with one hand instead. “No, I have some things to do. I’ll be back later.”

“Is it that drug-testing thing again?”

Although we’d only been “together” a little while, I had finally told her the truth, and she was pissed off on my behalf. Even though I didn’t care anymore, it was nice to have someone on my side for once.

I could lie and say it was, but knowing Taylor, she’d probably weasel the truth out of me sooner or later. “No, it’s not that. It’s … complicated.”

“Hmm … does it have something to do with your daddy issues?”

I nearly slammed on the brakes. “I don’t have daddy issues.”

“We both do. And yours are written all over your face.” She gave me a teasing smile and shook her head. “Don’t worry. I’m more screwed up than you are. My issues are all over the place.” Her hand motioned up and down her body.

“Really? I’ll have to check that out someday.”

She poked a finger in my cheek and pushed my face forward. “The only place you’ll see that is in your dreams. Now, keep your eyes on the traffic.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I pulled up in the front yard and parked right by the doors. “If you feel the need to make up an excuse for my absence, don’t deny the urge. The more elaborate, the better.”

“How about I tell people a dragon carried you off to its lair so you could be a nanny for its babies?”

“As long as it’s a water dragon and not a fire-breathing one, then I’m good with that.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t nag me about going to class like I expected her to. She just leaned closer—her forehead was scrunched together with worry—and reached out to touch my arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

As okay as I’ll ever be. I froze for a moment, letting her soft touch calm me. When I felt semirelaxed, I let out a deep sigh and grasped her hand, holding it tightly to my body. “Yeah, I’m fine. Wait for me later. I’ll bring something back for us for lunch.”