“Right. Wow. Sorry to hear that, Katie. I guess that kind of blows.” Whatever he was going to say was cut short when the bell rang and Mrs. Jenkins started to take roll.
All during class, Miguel shot sympathetic sidelong glances while Ashley-Leigh shot daggers at me. It didn’t really matter because neither one was really penetrating my sleep-deprived haze. Even the omnipresent butterflies that floated around my stomach every time Pete Davenport so much as flitted across my brain were subdued today. I could barely keep my eyes open. Lack of sleep and the strain of trying to keep my family together with nothing more than bubble gum and duct tape, while the enemy was trying to destroy us with army tanks and nuclear bombs, well, let’s just say: It was beginning to take a toll.
Thankfully, Mrs. Jenkins never called on me, and the bell rang just as my head began to droop again. I remained seated, packing up slowly, hoping Miguel and Ashley-Leigh would head on to lunch. Yeah right. Miguel started up our previous conversation as if he’d been on pause and the bell signified the start button. He didn’t get very far though, because Ashley-Leigh came storming up, waving her outraged grievances at me like purple pom-poms.
“Katie, I’m, like, so pissed at you right now!” she informed me. Like I was too obtuse to read her over-the-top social cues. I remained mute, packing up my books. “Why haven’t you called me back yet?”
Because I wasn’t aware that you’d called,” I snapped. It felt good to vent some frustration on someone so deserving.
“Well, I did,” she sniffed, toning it down. “Like five or six times . . . and I left messages.”
“Look, I’m sorry Ash, I’ve just been busy and there were no messages on the answerin’ machine when I got in yesterday afternoon. Daddy must’ve erased them and didn’t bother to leave a note.”
“Well, if you’d just get a cell phone, like . . . oh, the rest of America, you wouldn’t have that problem,” she said, ever the problem solver.
“Great idea. Why didn’t I think of that?” I yanked the zipper on my backpack. “I’ll get right on it—right after I get my hair highlighted and my nails done.” I threw my backpack over my shoulder and headed out with Miguel following and Ashley-Leigh bringing up the rear.
“Uh! Whadoya mean by that?” she asked, playing dumb.
Miguel and I exchanged eye-rolls in the doorway. “What do you want, Ashley?”
“I wanted to see if we could grab lunch today,” she said, about as obvious as a room key presented at prom.
Miguel’s girlfriend was standing around the hall waiting for him, so he slid past with a “We’ll talk later, ‘kay?”
I nodded and smiled and waved at his girlfriend. And then I saw him striding my way, making the dingy floors of our hallway look like a runway in Paris. As usual, everyone was openly staring at him. That meant that in about two seconds, everyone would be staring at me. I felt a wave of warmth wash over my face followed by a swell of giddiness inside at the thought that he was here for me.
Ashley-Leigh saw where my eyes had strayed to, and her face looked as if she’d just swallowed bleach. “Guess I have my answer.”
“I’m sorry, Ash. Maybe tomorrow?” I said as insincere as her lunch invitation. But I had a feeling my voice fell on deaf, hula-hooped ears, because her focus shifted, along with her whole demeanor. She beamed at Pete with so much wattage I thought she might inadvertently shock him to death.
“Hey, Pete! . . . Right on time,” Ashley-Leigh greeted. “We were just discussin’ what we were gonna do for lunch today!” She smashed our faces together. “Right, Katie-girl?”
Pete raised his eyebrows at me, and I gave him a helpless look. “Is that right?” he said, bending to kiss my cheek. The wattage in her smile dimmed a bit, but I knew Ashley—she considered herself down but not out. Like a pro, she plastered the smile back on and went for it. It was kinda fascinating to watch, like a car crash you see coming, but the passenger in the car in front of you is too busy putting on lipstick in the mirror to notice.
“That’s right.” She nailed him in the chest with her finger. “We feel like it’s unfair of Katie to keep you all to herself . . . and, like, visa versa I guess.” She giggled like she’d just made a funny, but it fell flat without her backup laughers.
I had trouble following her one-sided conversation the second a possessive arm draped around my shoulder. Pete didn’t seem to be paying attention at all. “Ready?” He looked down at me; I nodded up at him.
In tandem, we began walking through the hall with Ashley-Leigh trailing us like a high-heeled shoe attached to the newlywed’s getaway car. She was gibbering on and on about how we used to be known as the “two Lees” and how we were more like sisters than friends growing up. I have to say: I kinda started feeling bad for her. She was trying so hard, and Pete wasn’t trying at all. This would be pretty tough to take—things usually worked out for her in pretty much the way she planned. If Pete kept this up, she was liable to get frostbite.
We reached the exit, and he finally acknowledged her presence by holding the door open for her. “Why thank you!” she trilled up at him as if she were a southern belle twirling an umbrella instead of a prima donna wearing a hoochie day-glow tee.
“Looks like this is where we part ways,” Pete spoke directly to her for the first time, then grabbed my hand and led me in the opposite direction of the parking lot.
Ashley-Leigh was left standing there with a hangdog expression, which she rapid-recovered from. “Okay, you two have fun! . . . Don’t do nothin’ I wouldn’t do!” she called out for the benefit of anyone standing around to witness her dismissal.
Pete didn’t acknowledge her in any way, so I threw a “We’ll see you in Spanish” over my shoulder as we walked away. “Wow. Remind me to never get on your bad side.”
“Why?” He gave me a wicked grin. “You plannin’ on gettin’ on my bad side?”
“You never know,” I murmured, squirming under the heat of his stare.
We’d already arrived at his Hummer, on account of it being parked brazenly in front of the school, in the zone reserved for loading buses. I shook my head at him, laughing as he opened up the passenger door and helped me inside.
“What?” he innocently dropped, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “No one was using it, so I slipped in and took it—couldn’t let a prime spot like this go to waste because everyone around here is too scared or stupid to go for it.” His eyes twinkled. “It’s just not in my nature.”
“Maybe nobody took it cause it’s against the rules,” I volleyed back.
He laughed and shut the door, came around and returned with: “Well, you know what they say about rules . . .” then arched a brow poignantly at me before throwing his aviators on. Game over, he clicked in the key and fired up the engine. In no time, we were headed out west again while everyone else was going east. This time when he cut the engine, I was unsurprised by our lunch locale.
“Is this going to be a regular thing now?” I said, then immediately regretted the presumptuous statement.
No need because Pete immediately said, “I hope so. As much as I’ve enjoyed fighting with you, Kate, I sure would like to know what it’s like to do…”—his eyes fluttered my way—“other things.”