Who's Your Daddy? (7 page)

He laughed, soft and low, a sound that made my skin tingle. “Not unless you ask real nicely, Moreno,” he teased.

EEEK! I focused on the trees flanking the road out my side window, with my body squished as far away from Dylan as I could get without actually cramming myself into the crack between the seat and the door. My night was ruined, my reputation besmirched. Now Dylan Sebring was saying things that sounded vaguely flirtatious, which
couldn’t
be true.

God. I had to get out of the car and away from this guy who was so hot, but SO annoying and confusing at the same time.

meryl

Gosh, what a terrible and abrupt ending to a night that had started out so filled with hope. After Lila left with Dylan Sebring (who is so very cute and looks really hot in his uniform, despite what Lila says—and WHY was she being so snotty to him?!), Caressa and I just felt icky about the whole night. We couldn’t very well start over with the dumb supper. For one thing, it was past midnight, and we’d already broken the silence. And we couldn’t, in good conscience, have Lila’s mother here as a spirit guest when Lila herself was absent.

Now, I’ve discussed metaphysical ceremonies at length with Reese and Kelly, the co-owners of Inner Power where I work, and I know it’s all about one’s intent rather than rules and regs. Regardless, it didn’t
feel complete without Lila there. I don’t know how to explain it. The three of us are the best of friends, without any of the favoritism that so often causes problems with groups of three friends. But Lila, she’s like the spark that ignites our little triad. Caressa and I are perfectly comfortable in our own skin, but I think both of us secretly wish we were a little more like wild Lila.

So, it was all three of us for the supper or nothing.

Plus, Caressa and I were both preoccupied with worry that Lila would be grounded for life! How could we possibly focus on finding boys to date when she was going to be in so much trouble? We should’ve seen it coming. Well, in truth, we HAD seen it coming, but when Lila Moreno gets an idea in her mind, there is no deterring her. It’s definitely one of her charms, but if she doesn’t rein it in, it could also be her downfall.

I sat on the bottom step of the sweeping marble staircase in Caressa’s entryway and laid the side of my face on the polished wood banister. My stomach felt tight and jittery. “That was purely awful.”

Caressa nodded, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. She hugged her long legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees, then blew out a big sigh. “Mer, I
knew Lila was pushing her luck with this latest scheme. If I did half the things she did, my parents would kill me. She’s going to give me gray hair before I’m twenty.”

“Yeah. But that’s one of the things I like about Lila the most. She jumps in with both feet.” Without looking first!

“True. I just wish—” She pressed her lips together.

“What?” I asked Caressa. Her eyes looked sad.

“Eh, nothing. I just wish we’d finished.”

I knew Caressa was really let down about the whole dateless thing. She wanted to know who her prospects were. Well, we all did. But Caressa had an extra strike against her that Lila and I didn’t. She’s GORGEOUS. Her mom’s Hawaiian and her dad’s African American, and let me tell you, she got the very best of both of their genes. She has this amazing, smooth, caramel-colored skin, as though she’s always kissed by the sun; long wavy brown hair naturally highlighted with deep copper; and vivid green, slightly tilted eyes. Plus she’s supersweet.

Don’t misunderstand me, I think Lila and I are both cute enough girls (though I could do without my red hair and pale skin), but Caressa’s in a whole other
league. Lucky her, right? Not really. Lila and I aren’t subjected to much cattiness from the other girls, because they don’t see us as competition. Poor Caressa intimidates both the boys
and
the girls, but the girls really take it out on her. If only they could step back and see how truly vulnerable, humble, and genuine she is …

But, anyway.

The whole dumb supper debacle was depressing, and I didn’t want to dwell on everything that could’ve been. Instead, I stood. “Well, let’s clean up. I just have a creepy feeling now and I kind of want to go home. I hope that’s okay.”

“You go ahead, Mer.” Caressa smiled sadly at me. “I’ll clean up. It’ll give me something to do since you won’t be spending the night after all.”

I have to say, I was glad she offered. Something told me I should go home right then. I felt compelled. “Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh. Go on. I like cleaning. It calms me.”

“Okay, then.” She stood as I put on my coat, then hugged me good-bye. I squeezed back.

“Drive carefully.”

“I always do.”

Caressa raised one of her perfect eyebrows in a skeptical expression and planted her fists on her hips. “That’s not what Lila told me about the drive over here earlier tonight.”

I giggled. “Yeah, yeah. ’Night, Caressa.” And with that, I jogged across the portico and got into my trusty Volvo.

The drive from Caressa’s to my house is always pitch black. There aren’t streetlights up here in the mountains unless you are on the main roads. I mean, I had my headlights, but driving home always felt like being inside a fragile bubble of light that could pop at any moment and leave you choking on pure, unending blackness. That lovely thought made me shiver, so I turned up my radio for company. I was cheered to hear they were playing Beethoven’s “Triple” Concerto in C Major, Op. 56. It has always been one of my favorites.

I usually choose to listen to the classical station from Vail, because the music is beautiful and uplifting. I know people think I’m strange because I don’t listen to the regular music most kids do. Really, if I wanted to switch to the pop station, all I had to do was press a button. My parents weren’t there to admonish me, and it wasn’t as
if I’ve never heard pop music. When I spend time with Lila and Caressa, I listen to what they want to hear. But they’re also respectful of my family’s way of life and open to new experiences, so sometimes we listen to classical. That’s what I love about my best friends. They don’t try to make me into someone I’m not, even though I must seem like a space alien to them at times, and they try to show enthusiasm for my interests, too.

The whole point is this: my parents might have raised us in a nontraditional way, but I don’t mind it. In fact, I like it for so many reasons. My parents never seem as harried and stressed out as other adults, and our house is always a haven.

Sure, I used to feel left out when I was little and all my friends were watching cartoons that were off-limits to me, but I got over it. Now I don’t even have the urge to watch television. No. Really. I don’t.

I don’t judge other people for how they choose to spend their free time, but the whole television thing seems like an egregious waste of time to me.

That’s just me. Life is a choice.

I swear, though, sometimes I feel like my peers’ heads are so full of this television show or that movie,
this new hot star or that reality show (a concept I can’t quite grasp, even though Lila has tried to explain it to me on more than one occasion), that they forget to just sit back and think about things. Life, themselves, world events, the future, the universe, goals. I know I’m eccentric, but I like being different, and I like thinking about all these subjects and more.

So, anyway, I was driving down Meadow Brook Road, watching carefully for deer or elk on the road and doing exactly that—thinking about stuff—when all of a sudden I heard this big
POW
, and my car screeched and swerved a little. A surge of adrenaline pushed my heart into my throat, and I steered the car over to the rocky shoulder. I could hear the flap-flap-flapping as I drew to a stop, and there was no mistaking the unusual lopsidedness to my car. Damn, a flat.

I’d never had a flat before. Why now?

My palms started to sweat and tears stung my eyes. It wasn’t because I was afraid of changing a tire, per se. I just wasn’t too thrilled to have to change my tire on a pitch black mountain road, alone, in the middle of the night. Naturally, I heard an animal howl off in the distance, because it was just the perfect thing to feed my
fears. Right at that moment, I wished like crazy that my parents believed in cell phones.

I knew the tire wasn’t going to change itself, but I still couldn’t bring myself to get out of the car. What a chicken! I had been born and raised in the mountains, and I usually liked the silence and the darkness.
Usually
. The inky sky made a much better backdrop for the stars than the light-polluted city sky down in Denver. But the same inky sky felt foreboding as I sat there with a flat tire and a fast heartbeat.

Trying to steady myself and squelch my fears, I glanced up into the sky and tried to convince myself of how much I loved the darkness. I took a deep breath and picked out some of my favorite constellations. Ursa Major was easy to find. Always is. I think of it as the layman’s constellation, because even though it’s the third largest, it’s mainly known as the home of the Big Dipper, which makes me feel kind of sad for it. All that vastness and really only one claim to fame.

I was happy to see Orion, master of the winter skies, already, considering it was only late September. I’ve always liked the mythological story behind Orion and the picture it puts in my head. Orion is said to lord over
the heavens from late fall to early spring, with his hunting dog, Sirius, trailing at his feet.

How cute. I love dogs.

I smiled as I picked out the three stars which form Orion’s belt: Mintaka, Alnilam, and Alnitak. As always, I felt awed by their presence. I just think it’s amazing that even the Bible makes reference to these stars, and yet here they are, steadfast in the twenty-first century. That constancy over thousands of years makes me realize what a minuscule part of the universe my little life is.

Stargazing was making me feel better, though I still had a flat to deal with. I knew I’d deal with it better if I was calm, so I kept my eyes aimed upward. Tonight was the transit date of the principal star of Andromeda, so I searched for and found it as well. That was a mistake, though, because it made me think of the story behind it, which made me think of Lila getting busted, which got me all upset and worried once again.

See, Andromeda was the daughter of Cepheus and Cassiopeia, and Cassiopeia was totally vain. Even more vain than Lila’s brother’s girlfriend, Miffany, if you can believe it. Get this: Cassiopeia believed she and Andromeda were more beautiful than any of Poseidon’s
many nymphs, and she taunted the God of the Seas until he just couldn’t deal. (What kind of dummy would be so shortsighted as to taunt the God of the Seas?) Infuriated, Poseidon punished Cassiopeia by tying her daughter to a rock. Naked. Yep, naked. And, he left poor, naked Andromeda there to be sacrificed to some dreadful sea monster.

Can you say harsh?

I know it’s a stretch, but I couldn’t help but think of Lila and how totally in for it she was with this last stunt. She’d taunted her dad with disobedience just like Cassiopeia had taunted the God of the Seas. I sure hoped Chief Moreno didn’t pull a Poseidon on her and tie her naked to the proverbial rock as punishment. Enough of that. Worry never made the future better, it just stole energy from the present.

Unfortunately, the
present
included me, a desolate mountain road, and a flat tire. Swell.

Just as I was getting ready to suck it up and deal with the dilemma, two headlights blazed through my back window into my rearview mirror and blinded me. For a split second, I felt relieved … but then I got scared. We all hear stories about creepy guys who victimize
stranded motorists, and I was spooked to begin with. I quickly locked all my doors, slipped my car into drive, then sat there with my foot on the brake pedal but ready to move to the gas pedal just in case I needed to make a squealing getaway. If anyone scary approached the car, I was GONE, flat tire or not.

I kept my eyes glued on the side mirror, trying to ignore the OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR warning, which was hard. First, I saw a silhouette of a person getting out of the car and heading toward me. I didn’t move, don’t even think I drew a single breath. But I lucked out! When he finally got close enough for me to see his features, I recognized the guy approaching as a fellow student from school.

It was That Bosnian Guy. Isn’t that awful? I didn’t even know his name, because everyone at school referred to him as That Bosnian Guy. All we knew was, he and his family came here as refugees (a word with an undeserved negative connotation), and now he was attending WPHS.

I’ve never paid him much attention, but I was SO relieved to see him. At least I didn’t feel like I’d be axmurdered in my car. I put the car in park, engaged the
emergency brake, then rolled down my window a crack.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiled and ran one hand through his golden blond hair, from front to back. The motion made my throat dry, for some strange reason. “Do you need some help?”

I twisted my mouth to the side. “I have a flat tire.” I probably didn’t have to demonstrate my keen grasp of the obvious with that statement, what with my car dipping to one side and my rear tire completely devoid of air, but I felt all fluttery-nervous around him. The words had just come out in a blurt.