****
The night was cold, but he didn’t mind. What he was doing was much more important than staying inside, than huddling under a blanket letting life pass him by.
He always wondered if it would happen tonight, if he would finally capture what he was looking for. It wasn’t an easy thing to do. For him, it was about as challenging as it got. The night made it difficult, almost impossible, yet he persevered. He kept trying.
His friends would call him obsessed if they knew, if they knew how he ventured out every night for hours at a time just to take photographs, in search of a nighttime masterpiece, in search of an answer to the challenge his life’s passion had presented him. They might laugh and try to persuade him to snap a few goofy pictures of them messing around, but this was no laughing matter to him. These pictures meant something, all of them. He needed to take one that would mean the most of all.
He took pictures of deserted things: an empty swing set; a still, smooth lake; a stationary merry-go-round. The list went on and on. He never stopped trying his hardest to capture the loneliness of the human heart through glimpses of objects. It had been his goal for years now.
He took as many pictures as he could each night, but he was never completely satisfied. Every photo turned out good, but none of them ever turned out great.
His masterpiece was eluding him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The sun was shining brightly by the time Maria DeLuca and her family arrived at 352 Rosen Street. It was a beautiful, warm day outside in Roswell, New Mexico, but it all seemed horrible to her. These kinds of days always did.
Her father, Jim DeLuca, pulled the car to a stop up at the curb, turned off the ignition, and breathed a contented sigh of relief. “Well, here we are,” he announced happily.
“Here we are,” her mother, Amy, echoed. She turned around in the seat so that she could face Maria. “Oh, honey, look at the house!” she chirped. “Isn’t it nice?”
Maria crossed her arms over her chest and glanced out the window at the large, brick structure they would soon call a home . . . for at least a little while. “Nice, yeah. You know, it actually looks a lot like the four other houses we’ve lived in.”
“Three other houses,” her mother corrected quietly. “So you like it?”
“As much as I’ll ever.”
“You should see the inside,” her father jumped in. “It’s nice and spacious, so you’ll never feel cooped up.”
“Oh, don’t be too sure about that,” she muttered, gazing down at her own feet, downtrodden.
“You’re room’s the nicest, too,” Amy told her. “I’m sure you’ll just fall in love with it.”
Maria shook her head. “No. No, see, I don’t get the chance to fall in love with anything.”
“Oh, come on, honey, I thought you’d be happy,” Amy said. “This is an exciting day. Why are you so upset?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Maria said sarcastically. “Packing up and moving to a new state again where you have to start your entire life all over again is usually such an uplifting event.”
Her mother gave her a stern look. “You’re awfully sarcastic today.”
“Awfully pessimistic,” her father muttered under his breath.
Maria sighed and took another look at the house. “I’m sorry. It is a nice house. I’m sure it’s nice inside, too. It’s just . . . I liked Denver, you know. I really liked it there.”
“I did, too,” her father said. “It’s not my fault we had to leave.”
“It’s not mine, either.”
Jim grunted.
“It’s not,” she insisted. “I mean, I’m not the one who waltzed in one day saying ‘Okay, girls, pack your things. We’ll now be living in the home of the little green men.’”
Amy spun around and faced her again. “Is it the alien stuff, honey? Is that what scares you?”
“No, Mom.”
“Because that’s all just a myth. It’s a tourist thing.”
“And we’re not tourists,” her dad said. “We are now residents of this fine little town, Maria, so you’re just gonna have to get used to it.”
“Thanks, father of the year.”
He rolled his eyes. “Maria, if you’re gonna be so stubborn--”
“Whatever,” she cut in. “I’m used to it. I’m past it. Let’s just hope this town has a good dance club.”
“Actually, I don’t know if they have any clubs,” Amy said.
“What?” she shrieked.
“I mean, they have bars, but that’s more of an adult playground.”
“You think?”
“Well, maybe they have a club,” her mother continued. “We drove around when we came down, but we certainly didn’t see everything. Well, we’ll see. Maybe they do.”
“But that doesn’t mean you’re granted permission to go,” Jim jumped in hastily.
“Right,” Amy said, always the first to agree with her husband. “Your father will decide.”
“Wow, this is fun,” Maria muttered.
Amy sighed dramatically, and the car filled with silence for a few seconds. Maria idly thought about how nice it would be to be knocked unconscious for awhile. That way, she could be somewhere else for a short time, maybe in a nice dreamland. Anyplace but here.
“Oh, look,” Amy said out of nowhere. She pointed to a big, beefy guy hauling in a full-length mirror. “It looks like they’re starting on your room, Maria.”
“Great!” she exclaimed with false cheeriness.
“It’s gonna be wonderful,” Amy insisted.
“Yeah. Hey, mom?”
“What?”
“Don’t these movers look a little fishy to you?”
“Fishy?”
“Yeah, like they don’t really know what they’re doing.”
“Oh, of course they know,” Amy said. “They’re professionals.”
All at once, there was a loud clatter. One of the movers had gotten caught up in the hustle and bustle of the couch transfer, and now a box of expensive china was lying shattered on the ground.
“Oh my god!” Amy cried, bursting out the car door. “My antique china!”
Maria chuckled as she watched her mother waddle over toward the clumsy mover and start swatting him with her purse. “3, 2, 1, freak out.” She smirked when her mother started shouting curses at the man. If nothing else, this whole moving process was always a good way to see her mother in the hypocritical light. Amy always told her to watch her language, but every time they moved, some dumb guy would break some dumb thing, and the bad language would come as quickly as the English language did.
“Oh, look, Maria.” Jim pointed out the window, straight ahead at a large truck. “They’re unloading the Benz.”
“My Benz.”
“Your Benz courtesy of me. Think about the money I spent on that the next time you complain about me taking you down here.”
He had her now. Anytime he brought up things he had gotten for her or things he had done for her, her insults and comebacks completely vanished. Although he was hideous in the sense that he dragged her all around the country only whenever she started feeling comfortable in her new town, he wasn’t all bad. He spoiled her in many ways. The Benz was the biggest way. Besides that, though, he gave her all the credit cards she could ever want. He usually caved in and let her go to clubs. He didn’t even make her get a job. Quite honestly, he usually didn’t upset her except when the male gender came into the picture. He just didn’t like the thought of her having a boyfriend. He was way too overprotective like that. She had complained about his overbearing ways to her mother time and time again, but Amy always agreed with Jim. Always.
“I hope they don’t break my car, too,” Maria said at last. “I think it’s clear these guys are not professionals.”
Jim chuckled. “See? Now you’re in a better mood.”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“You will be,” he assured her. “Let’s go check out the car, make sure it got down here in one piece.”
“Looks like one piece to me,” Maria commented, stepping out of the car. She shut the door and breathed in the fresh air. It actually felt pretty nice outside. She was beginning to think maybe she had been wrong about Roswell. She had pictured it as just some hole-in-the-wall tourist trap. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, though. Maybe.
She groaned. Oh, this trying to be optimistic thing was killing her.
She followed her father over to the car and surveyed it. It looked fine to her, but her father, of course, found a dent in the side and told the movers he was deducting five percent from their total pay because of it. “I hire you to transfer my family’s life, basically, and you break my wife’s china and dent my daughter’s car. What’s that about?”
“Whoa, this is her car?” a Hispanic mover exclaimed. “Wow, you must be rich!”
“Rich is such a strong word,” her father said. “I prefer the term financially secure.”
Maria rolled her eyes. “Just say you’re rich, Dad.”
“I’m sorry about the dent,” the mover apologized. “I don’t even know how it happened.”
Her father crossed his arms over his chest angrily. “Reckless driving comes to mind.”
“Give him a break, Dad,” Maria said. “I put the dent in the car.”
He looked at her, astonished. “Maria?”
“Yeah, it was an accident,” she explained. “I swear, that mailbox came out of nowhere.”
“Mailbox?”
She put her hands on his shoulders and shook him gently out of his stupor. “It’s fine, Dad. Give the man his money.”
Jim turned his head, glared angrily at the mover, and then glared angrily at Maria. “So careless,” he muttered, shaking his head. “So careless with the precious Benz.”
“Dad . . .”
“I bet it wasn’t even you,” he decided. “I bet it was one of your no-good-boyfriends and you’re just covering for him.”
“You forget,” she said, “I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
“Well, you’ve come close.”
She sighed. “And we can’t let that happen, can we?”
“Exactly,” he said, not sensing her displeasure. “I’m gonna go take care of your mother.”
“Wait,” she said, stopping him before he could walk away. “Can I go for a drive?”
“A drive?” he echoed. “Why?”
“I feel like getting out of here for awhile. They’re probably just starting on my room, anyway. It won’t be done for awhile.”
Jim considered it only briefly and then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. You don’t know these streets. You’ll probably end up getting lost.”
“Lost,” she resounded. “Yes, lost in the big town that is Roswell, New Mexico.”
“You know, you’re really taking this sarcasm thing too far.”
She was already taking her keys out of her back pocket. “Relax, Dad. I’ll just be gone a few hours.”
“A few?”
“Two.”
“One,” he bargained.
“Two,” she insisted.
“One and a half.”
“Acceptable.”
He nodded in agreement and headed off in the direction of the front door to calm down Amy and rescue the clumsy mover who had dropped the china. Maria felt relieved once he had gone. Now she was free to get away for awhile.
She skipped gleefully around to the driver’s side of the car, but before she could get in, the Hispanic mover spoke to her.
“You know,” he said. “I really like your car. Especially the back seat.” He grinned and wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Eww,” Maria said, sending him one of those you-don’t-stand-a-chance looks. She opened the door, hopped in the car, and brought it to life. Time to get away, she thought excitedly. It’s only for an hour and a half, but it’s away. She floored the accelerator and blared the radio and then was gone, driving off into yet another brand new life.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As she drove around, Maria found Roswell to be very diverse for such a small town. Neighborhoods were small and crammed close together, not unlike Denver, but each one looked very different from the others. The neighborhood she would be living in was nice and presentable. Houses were large and attractive. Yards were tidy and green. She even glimpsed a few lucky homes with pools in the back yard. She liked her neighborhood. It looked like the perfect Wisteria Lane. A few left turns later, though, she was in a different neighborhood. It wasn’t completely bad. The houses were okay. Not great, not horrendous. Just okay. The houses were noticeably smaller than the one she and her parents would be living in. The yards were a little barren, but not filthy. This second neighborhood was definitely a step down from Wisteria Lane, but it was decent.
Before she knew it, Maria had zigzagged her way into a very, very different neighborhood in small town Roswell, New Mexico. She supposed every town, big or small, had a poverty section, but she had never actually been in one before. Denver was a big city, big enough that she would never have to venture off into what her dad called “the poor streets.” What she saw here bothered her. People were living—or rather existing—in shacks. Some roofs were virtually falling off. From what she could see, the main residents of these homes seemed to be Hispanics and unusually large families. She felt sorry for them. Who knew what kind of lives they were living?
One thing remained constant throughout every part of Roswell, though: the guys. Whenever she drove past them, no matter what neighborhood they were in, whether they were hanging out alone, with a friend, or in a big group, they stared at her. They all stared at her. Some grinned mischievously. Some pointed at her and discussed her with their friends. Others were bold enough to make a sexual gesture with their hands or their mouths . . . or other body parts. Their frank sexual interest both astonished and frightened her. She had never encountered guys like this before, not in Denver or in any of the other places she had lived.
Maria was glad when she got out of the residential areas. She figured the main drags had to be at least a little more exciting and a little less scary. She was psyched to find an all-ages club. She liked to go dancing at night. A place to dance was a necessity for her.
The minute she drove onto Main Street, her excitement fell away. There was . . . well, there was practically nothing. There was a movie theater, but it was showing some dumb old western. There was some stupid alien-themed café, but it only looked like a surefire way to pack on the pounds. She saw only one clothing store, and worst of all, there wasn’t a dance club in sight!
She couldn’t keep her mouth from dropping open in shock. Sure, Roswell was about as small as town could get, but they needed more than this. Didn’t they? She didn’t understand how this could be fun, how this could entertain people. She saw people walking around laughing, talking to each other, smiling these bright, beaming smiles, and she didn’t know why. This place was nothing compared to Denver. Worse, it was negative nothing! She didn’t understand why her father would move her here. Of all the places in the world, why Roswell? Why boring, empty Roswell?
She was so enraged with her father and with this crappy Main Street that she floored it down the street. (She had a tendency to drive way too fast most of the time as a result of unstructured Driver’s Ed.) She was just turning off Main Street and back into the residential areas when she heard sirens. She glanced in her rear-view mirror and almost lost it. A cop was pulling her over. What’s this? she wondered incredulously. This town has a police force like this but it doesn’t even have a dance club?
Obediently, she pulled over next to what looked like a nice house, rolled down her window, and prepared herself for what was about to come. “Cry time, Maria,” she told herself, knowing this would work. She cried her way out of all the tickets she should have received. She had the tears falling down her cheeks before she even opened the window for the officer.
“Where you goin’ in such a hurry, young lady?” he asked her, peering in through the window.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” she cried before even answering his question. “I’m so sorry!”
“Well, you should be,” he said. “Speeding’s a dangerous thing. Why do you think they post speed limits?”
“I didn’t even know!” she went on hysterically. “I just . . . oh, I’m so sorry!”
“Well, sometimes sorry isn’t good enough.”
“You have to excuse me. Please. I just moved here. It’s my first day in town.”
“Just moved here, huh?”
She nodded vigorously. “Yes. Yes, I came from Denver, where the speed limits are drastically different.”
“They are?”
“Oh, yeah,” she lied. “We’re talking miles and miles of difference. They let you go thirty-five on streets like that one back there, not just twenty-five.”
The officer smirked. “You were goin’ forty-five.”
“God!” she exclaimed. “My foot just has a mind of its own!”
He chuckled. “You know, I should be giving you a ticket already. Twenty miles over . . . that’s a bit excessive, darlin’.”
She made her eyes well up with tears again. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll never do it again.”
He placed his sunglasses atop his head and let his eyes linger over her. At first she didn’t know what he was doing, but then it hit her. He was ogling her just like all those other guys she had driven past. Had she not been in such an awful situation, she would have slapped him. She really hated it when guys looked at her this way.
“You know,” he said, “you don’t have to cry your way out of this ticket. A pretty girl like you can just flirt her way out of it.”
“Oh,” she said, not sure what else to say to this man. “Okay.”
He grinned, still staring at her lecherously. “It’s kinda hot outside today. Maybe you should take off that sweater.”
“It’s a shrug,” she informed him.
“Regardless . . .”
She stared right back at him, attempting to smile. “So does this mean you’ll let me off with a warning?”
“I suppose it does,” he said, licking his lips. “Don’t let me catch you speeding again, though, or I might have to cuff you.” He wriggled his eyebrows.
“Fabulous,” she muttered. “Okay, well . . . thanks?”
He shrugged it off, surveyed her body one more time, and finally sauntered back to his police car. Maria watched him drive off, grateful that he was gone. Guys like that were such pigs. He was obviously older than she was, probably married with a family, and he still flirted with her. She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgust.
She was about to start up the car and pull away when she noticed a young boy looking out the window of the house she was parked next to. He couldn’t have been more than nine or ten. He called something to someone else in the house, and suddenly three other young boys joined him at the window. They all looked at her with the same look as the police officer and every other guy she had seen that day. She couldn’t believe it. Now she was attracting nine-year-olds.
Resigning to the fact that these residential streets were only a good place to be desired by all the wrong types of people, Maria turned around and got back onto Main Street. She parked haphazardly in front of the greasy café she had seen before, the Crashdown Café, and dug her wallet out from her purse. Maybe if I gained a little weight, these gross guys—and little boys—wouldn’t be so attracted to me, she speculated, knowing she was probably one of the few girls on the planet who wouldn’t thrive off this attention.
As she was rolling up the window, she heard two girls standing outside talking about her car. “Is that a Mercedes?” one of them asked.
“Looks like,” the other replied.
“God, what a bitch.”
Maria’s eyes almost bulged out of her head. Me? I’m the bitch? she thought. You don’t even know me and you’re already judging me.
She got out of the car, careful to avoid any eye contact with the snobs, hoping that they would leave her alone. Of course they didn’t, though. Self-righteous girls knew nothing more than the pleasure of making other people feel miserable.
“Nice parking, Lindsay Lohan,” one of them said, cackling as she strutted by. Maria waited until they had gone to examine her parking job. Her front wheels were up on the sidewalk. She had always known she wasn’t the best driver in the world, but nobody had ever made fun of her for it before. The more she saw of this town, the more she missed Denver.
Maria flung her purse over her shoulder and hurried into the Crashdown Café. Her body was in major stress-eating mode. She was going to order to entire place out.
The smell of onion greeted her when she stepped inside. She wrinkled her nose up and looked around. This place was cute in its own obscure way, but definitely a far cry from her usual hang-out spot back in Denver. She closed her eyes and recalled the restaurant where she and her friends would go to almost every day after school. Romeo’s. Five star establishment, gourmet dining . . . oh, it had been such an awesome spot. Now she was sitting in this kitschy little place with no friends at all. Things changed.
It’s only the first day, she reminded herself, taking a seat at the counter. The first hours actually. It might get better. That’s not a likely possibility, but it still might happen. It really might get better.
She sighed dramatically and glanced over a menu. None of the food sounded appetizing to her, so she resigned herself to stress-eating at home and decided on the Meteor Milkshake. As if that name couldn’t get any more lame . . .
“Lizzie, honey, if I pay you, you have to do actual work!” a middle-aged man called back into the kitchen as he neared Maria. He wiped sweat from his brow before he spoke to her. “Hello. How may I help you?”
“That can’t be sanitary,” Maria commented. “No one wants your sweat to be in their mouth.”
“Excuse me?”
“You just wiped sweat off your forehead,” she informed him. “There’s gotta be rules against that. Actually, there’s gotta be common sense against that.”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’ll go wash my hands.”
“Great,” she said. “Can I get a milkshake after that?”
“Sure thing,” he said, heading off to the back. “Lizzie, honey, don’t polish your nails in the kitchen!”
Maria chuckled and glanced around. Yeah, this place was really a hole in the wall. If people from Denver could see her now, they would laugh their heads off.
Before the sweaty man had even returned with her milkshake, a young, dark-haired guy sat down at the counter beside her, wearing that same annoyingly naughty grin every other guy who looked at her did. He gazed at her with an obvious lust and a sultry look in his eyes. He was extremely good-looking, but his apparent lack of romanticism was a huge turn-off.
“Hey,” he said. “You’re hot.”
She smiled, annoyed. “So I’m told.”
“You new here?”
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know. Is this one of those towns where a guy’s crowned king for deflowering the new girl?”
“Deflowering?” he echoed, intrigued. “Are you a virgin?”
She looked away from him, feeling uncomfortable and trying to keep up her icy strength. “Funny. You ask me that before you ask me what my name is.”
Suddenly, another guy sat down on the other side of her. He had gorgeous sandy blonde hair and a six-pack visible even through a loose-fitting shirt. He probably considered himself a real ladies man. He probably was. “Hey, I’m Brian. What’s your name?” he inquired before the other guy could.
“Hey, I’m out of your league,” she replied expertly.
“Slam,” the dark-haired guy said.
Brian chuckled. “A sense of humor. I like that. Say, I just broke up with my girlfriend, and I’m really great in bed.”
“I’m sure you are,” she said, “and I’m sure some whore on the street corner will really appreciate all of your talents, but I’m not interested.”
“How ‘bout over here?” the dark-haired guy asked. “You interested in this?”
She sent him a disgusted look. “If by this you mean yourself, I’m gonna have to pass.”
“Playing hard to get,” he commented, standing up. “Don’t worry. We’ll rock ‘em sock ‘em someday.”
“In your dreams,” she muttered as the two guys finally walked away. She didn’t get these losers. They were trying their hands at being enticing, but what they were really being was obnoxious.
At last, the sweaty man returned with her milkshake. “Here you go,” he said, sliding it across the counter to her. “That’ll be two dollars.”
Two dollars for this thing, this undoubted piece of crap?! her mind screamed in outrage as she handed over a five dollar bill. As the man was getting her change, he kept glancing back at her, not at her face exactly, but at something else. “What?” she asked him finally. She looked over herself, wondering if she had spilled something. “What’re you looking at?”
“Oh, nothing,” he said, glancing away for a little bit. Soon enough, though, his eyes came wandering back to her, to her . . . her chest! “My, my,” he remarked, “that is a nice low-cut shirt.”
It took every ounce of strength she had to keep from throwing that milkshake right in his face.
By the time Maria arrived back at her new house on Rosen Street, the movers had left. Good, she thought as she pulled her Benz into the driveway. The last thing I need after all this disgusting flirting is more disgusting flirting from that moving guy.
She got out of the car and sulked toward the front door, wary of what she would find inside. Her parents had told her this was a very nice house, but she wasn’t so sure. With the way her luck was going today, she wouldn’t be surprised to walk in and discover a gaping hole in the floor.
The house was a stranger to her, and her first instinct as she approached the front door was to knock. But that wasn’t necessary. This was where she lived now; this was her residence. No knocking required.
She stepped inside timidly, afraid of what would await her. When she did begin to take a look around, though, she was in awe. This was definitely the nicest house she and her parents had ever lived in. It was beautiful. The ground floor appeared to be one great room with the decorative living area on one side and the expansive kitchen and dining room on the other. They had a fireplace, a flat-screen TV, and all of the best and newest appliances. A gorgeous white staircase led up to the second floor.
“Wow,” she remarked. “It is spacious.”
“Oh, honey, you’re home!” Amy chirped from the living room. She was sorting through piles of boxes, but she looked up from her work long enough to smile at Maria.
“Maybe my luck’s changing,” Maria thought aloud. “Maybe this house is just what I need to boost my spirits.”
Her father cleared her throat loudly as if to alert her of his presence. She glanced into the kitchen and saw him sitting at the counter with a book in his hand.
“What’re you reading?” Maria inquired as if she cared.
He said nothing, merely holding the book higher for her to see.
“Success in the Legal World,” she read. “Sounds like a thriller.”
He cleared his throat again.
“What?” she asked, knowing he had something to say to her. “What? Just say it, Dad.”
“We had an agreement,” he reminded her. “You were only to be gone for an hour and a half.”
“Which I was.”
He glanced at his watch, then back at her with a smirk on his face. “You’re three minutes late.”
She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her mother. “Oh, I’m so exasperated.”
“Exasperated?” Amy echoed in confusion.
“Outraged, really.”
“Outraged? With your father?”
Maria shook her head. “No. I mean yes. I mean, I’m outraged and exasperated with this town, Mom. I hate it! I absolutely hate it!”
Amy smiled disbelievingly. “You’ve hardly even been here.”
“Right, and I already wanna kill myself.”
“Maria!”
She sighed. “Okay, that was stretching it a little bit. Listen, Mom, I just, I really don’t wanna be here.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Amy assured her.
“I don’t wanna get used to it!” Maria was well aware that she was whining, but she didn’t care. As far as she was concerned, she had every right to. This was her third move within the last four years.
Amy gave her an annoyed look. “Maria, you have to stop complaining. I can’t take much more of it.”
“Well, I can’t take much more of Roswell, Mom. This town has, like, zero entertainment value.”
Now Amy looked suddenly sympathetic. “You didn’t find a dance club, did you?”
“No. All I found was this crappy excuse for a Main Street, this neighborhood that looks like downtown Baghdad, and—and nothing! There’s nothing, Mom! This is a nothing town!” She pouted, drooping her shoulders. “I wanna go back to Denver.”
“Maybe you should stop dwelling on Denver and look ahead here in Roswell,” Amy suggested. “You never know, this could be the best year of your life.”
“Oh, yeah, senior year in this hell-hole is gonna kick ass.”
“Watch your mouth, Maria!” Jim roared.
Maria ignored him and kept trying to persuade her mother. “Please, Mom. This is just so unfair.”
Amy shook her head, and started working on unpacking the boxes again. “I just hate that you’re being so pessimistic.”
“Well, I just hate that you guys are being so cruel. Actually, he’s being cruel.” She pointed to her father. “You’re just being agreeable like always.”
Amy glared at her. “Maria, I don’t appreciate this attitude. If you think you’re gonna convince me, think again.” She glanced at her husband as if for reassurance and then said, “Now you can help me put these knick-knacks away.”
“No thanks,” Maria said, slumping down in a great chair next to the door. “I’d rather just sit here and mope.”
“Suit yourself.” Amy busied herself with placing various objects atop the fireplace mantel.
Maria watched her mom for a few seconds, and then her mouth started going again. She couldn’t help it. There was just too much anger and rage inside her right now, and she couldn’t hold it in. “You know what the worst part about this town is? Huh? Do you know?”
“I do not,” Amy said, still concentrating on her project.
“The guys.”
Immediately, both of her parents looked at her with alarm on their faces. “What is it?” her father asked. “What are they like?”
“Seriously disturbed,” she replied. “I swear to God, they are so sexually frustrated, they’d do it with a prairie dog if they had the chance.”
Amy laughed, obviously not believing. “Oh, now, I think that’s more of a sweeping generalization.”
“I’m not kidding,” Maria told her. “They’re horny. They’re horny guys. They’re gross.”
Her father stared off into space, as if contemplating something. “I’m not sure if this is a good or a bad thing.”
“What makes these guys so bad?” Amy asked her, stepping back to admire her work. “That looks nice, doesn’t it?”
“Looks great,” Maria told her. “Mom, you know how I hate it when guys stare at me?”
“Sure.”
“Well, that’s what these guys do. Like constantly. I was driving by, and they were all staring and pointing and talking and . . . and gesturing.”
“Gesturing?” she resounded. “Hmm.”
“Hmm is right. They’re perverts, perverts of all ages, might I add! I even had nine year-olds gawking at me.”
Amy cringed. “Oh, honey.”
“No, it gets worse. I ended up getting pulled over by this police officer for speeding.”
“Did you get a ticket?”
Maria shook her head. “No, I got out of it like the rest of them.”
“The rest of them?!”
“This cop, he’s gotta be, like, over twice my age. He made a kinky sex reference, Mom! Handcuffs!”
“That’s not good.”
“I know! So after I got out of my ticket, I decided to go get something to eat at this little café on Main Street, the Crashdown Café. Their milkshakes suck, just so you know. Anyway, two guys, good-looking but self-righteous guys, sit down beside me and start hitting on me. They don’t even know me!”
Now her mother looked worried. “Oh my.”
“And this old geezer—I think he’s, like, the owner or manager of the place or something—he was looking at my cleavage.”
“Maybe you should dress more appropriately,” her father suggested, jumping back into the conversation.
“I do dress appropriately,” she insisted surveying what she was wearing. Her outfit was conservative enough. It wasn’t even close to her most glamorous. She couldn’t understand why guys had been clamoring all over her. She knew she had looked better.
“Sounds like you had a lot to deal with,” Amy commented. “I guess I can see why you’re so exasperated.”
“I’m not done yet,” Maria told her. “After I gulped down that hideous shake, I started driving around some more.”
“Going the speed limit?” her mother cut in.
She nodded. “Yes, going the speed limit. Anyway, I stumbled upon this catholic church, and I was like, ‘oh, yeah, a little sanctuary,’ you know. Oh, no. Not even. I walked inside, and the priest started making eyes at me, Mom! The priest!”
Amy’s mouth dropped open in shock.
“I know, right? He who vows to abstain from any romanticism whatsoever with females of any kind . . . checkin’ out my ass.”
“Watch your language,” her father repeated.
She spun around to face him, fuming. “Dad, you’d be freaking out, too, if, say, a nun had been checking you out.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” he said. “I’d feel flattered.”
“Flattered? Really?”
“Yes, I’d feel flattered that she took time out of her busy nun-life to give me the eye.”
Maria gave her mother a look. “And you married this man because . . .”
Amy smiled. “Because I fell in love with him.”
Maria sighed. “Yeah, falling in love. Definitely not a possibility in this town.”
“All these strange men do make me a little apprehensive,” Amy admitted. “Looking back . . . maybe we should’ve moved you to a different town.”
“No, this is perfect,” Jim said. “This is the perfect place for our daughter, Amy.”
“Your daughter hates it here,” Maria reminded him.
“Exactly,” he said, “and you hate the people most of all.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, nodding affirmatively.
“It’s perfect.”
She gave him a confused look. “I’m not following.”
He grinned smugly. “Think about it.”
And it came to her at once. “Oh, right. There’s absolutely no possibility of me bringing home a male companion or, god forbid, a potential boyfriend here, is there? Well then, that is perfect, Dad, perfect for you. Are you happy? Can you sleep easier now?”
“Insomnia just walked out the door,” he informed her. “Roswell holds marvelous possibilities.”
He sounded like such a satisfied bastard. She couldn’t take being around him anymore. She had to have her space. “I’m going upstairs,” she announced, starting for the stairs. “Which one’s my room?”
“The second door to the end of the hallway,” Amy informed her. “You’re gonna love it, Maria. It’s really nice.”
She trudged up the stairs, figuring she probably would love it. If her room was anywhere near as nice as the rest of the house, she would probably never want to leave. But having a nice house with a nice bedroom wasn’t enough. She wanted an all-around nice town with nice people. Roswell couldn’t offer that to her. She was sure of it.
When she opened the door to her room, a rush of air escaped her lungs. It was beautiful. The walls were a breathtaking olive color. The carpet was a marvelous shade of teal. Her new bed was a queen-size, slightly bigger than her last. It looked warm and comfortable, and she briefly fantasized about staying in that bed the rest of the summer, leaving it only to use the restroom and to eat dinner. She wished she could.
She traipsed around the room for a few minutes, looking over everything. It looked like every girl’s dream room. She had a closet full of new clothes and shoes and a dresser full of all the make-up and jewelry she could ever want. There was even an adjoining bathroom with a large whirlpool bathtub and shower. As far as material objects went she had it all. Something was missing, though. Something was always missing.
Maria spent the rest of her afternoon sorting out her huge CD collection. Her CDs were the most valuable things she owned. She loved music; she loved everything about it. She loved listening to it, writing it, playing it, singing it. Music had always been her passion, and even though it was a long-shot, it was what she wanted to do with her life. She wanted to be a famous singer and sell millions of records and tour across the continent. But that wasn’t a realistic possibility. College was realistic, attainable. Music . . . music was something else.
By the time she had finished arranging her CDs in alphabetical order, she had stacked her bookshelf full. Only the top shelf housed books like it was meant to. The other three shelves were packed full of CDs of all different sorts, packed full of her passion and her dream.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The sound of singing woke Maria from her sleep the next morning. She knew even before opening her eyes that her mother was downstairs attempting to sing a jaunty breakfast tune, but unlike her daughter, she hadn’t a talent for singing.
Maria rolled over on her back and rubbed her tired eyes. It had taken her quite some time to get to sleep last night. It was always difficult for her to rest in a new house during the first few nights. By now, she was accustomed to these nights of restlessness.
She forced her eyes open as she stretched out her limbs and glanced around the room, her room. This was the sight that would be greeting her from now on when she awoke in the morning. It was a nice bedroom to wake up to. In fact, the entire house was nice to wake up to. It was the rest of the town and the people in it that made the butterflies fly around in her stomach.
She sat up, yawning, and raked her fingers through her hair. This was going to be her first whole day in Roswell, and she couldn’t deny feeling nervous about it. Yesterday had only been a half day, and it had almost sucked the life out of her. She hated this town.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she resigned herself to the day and headed out of the room and down the stairs to her mother. She heard a car pulling out of the driveway as she reached the main floor, knowing her father was already heading off to work. The man wasted no time when it came to his career and his money. She supposed she should be thankful for that. Without his dedication, they wouldn’t be living in this house, and Roswell would end up being a total waste of time.
“Good morning, honey,” Amy chirped as Maria plodded sleepily into the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?”
Maria shrugged and sat down at the counter.
“The first night’s never easy,” Amy said knowingly. “Your new bed’s comfy, though, isn’t it?”
“Very.” Maria yawned again, taking a look at what her mother was making for breakfast. She cringed when she saw her basting an egg. There was something about preparing eggs that way that always grossed her out.
“I can make you something for breakfast,” her mother offered as if sensing Maria’s eyes were on her. “You want me to fry you up some eggs?”
“No thanks. I like my eggs scrambled.”
“I could do that, too.”
“Actually,” Maria said, getting up from her seat at the counter, “I think I might just prefer cereal.”
Amy shook her head. “There’s no nutrition in that. I don’t understand why you’d pick that over my eggs.”
Maria opened a few cabinets until she found the cereal, stored on the highest shelf. It was almost as though her mother were trying purposely to keep the boxes out of her reach. She propped herself up on the counter, reached as high as she could, and grabbed a box of Cocoa Puffs. “You know, this house discriminates against short people,” she commented, hopping back down and setting the box on the counter.
“Tell me about it,” Amy agreed as she finished up on her egg. “I thought I was gonna have to get the step-ladder out this morning until your father came down and helped me.”
“Oh, my father,” Maria echoed, taking a carton of milk out of the refrigerator. “I noticed he’s already off to work. Waste not, huh?”
“Yep,” Amy said with a half smile. “He says he likes this firm.”
Maria dumped some cereal and milk into a bowl, thinking about her father’s new job all the while. She hadn’t given his career down here much thought. He had always worked at big law firms. Something told her Roswell’s firm wasn’t that big. “How much is he getting paid?” she asked her mother out the blue, ceasing with the milk just as it was about to spill over the edge of the bowl.
Amy grabbed some toast out of the toaster and sat down at the counter. “Oh, I don’t know. About the same, I think.”
“The same?” Maria couldn’t believe that. “That’s a lot of money, Mom. How does Roswell have that much money to give him? I mean, seriously, they don’t even have enough money for a dance club.”
“Oh, the city’s not paying him,” her mother explained, taking a bite out of her toast. “The firm is. The firm he’s working at now is actually a branch of the firm he was working at in Denver, so nothing’s changing. Don’t worry about it.”
“Cool,” Maria said, taking a seat on the opposite side of the counter, “‘cause I was gonna say, moving down to Roswell and getting poor . . . that would suck.”
Amy chuckled lightly.
Maria sighed, scooping up a spoonful of cereal. She let it linger in front of her face as she stared at it blankly. She didn’t even feel hungry. This town was zapping all her energy. “Yep,” she muttered. “Here we are. Another boring day in stupid Roswell.”
Amy gave her a look. “Maria, we talked about this. I don’t want you being so pessimistic.”
“But it’s so hard not to be,” Maria told her. “You try driving around today and see how much you like it.”
“Honey, my body changed drastically after giving birth to you. I don’t think I’ll receive the same reactions.”
Maria sighed dramatically again, setting her spoon back down in her cereal.
“So, do you have any plans today?” Amy inquired curiously.
Maria shook her head. “Nope. Big zero plans. What about you?”
“I think I’m gonna venture out, maybe meet some of the neighbors,” Amy replied. “You should, too. It’d be good for you to make some friends before school starts.”
“You forget, the venturing out yesterday wasn’t that great. I really have no desire to drop myself into the hornet’s nest again.”
“I’m talking about girlfriends,” Amy clarified. “Who cares about these boys? I’m sure there’s plenty of girls out there who could become great companions.”
Maria shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Yesterday, they were all looking at me like they were jealous or something. Now, I’ve made people jealous before, but not like this. There were these two girls outside the Crashdown Café that noticed my car and called me a bitch.”
“Girls will be girls.”
“And boys will be boys,” Maria added, “and Roswell will never be Denver.”
“Denver was an easy place to get along,” Amy admitted. “It might be a little more difficult here, but what you’re going through now is probably a valuable life lesson.”
“I didn’t sign up for any life lessons,” Maria complained.
“You’re not the only one who has to start over,” Amy pointed out in return. “This is brand new for your father and me, too.”
“Yeah, but you’re not seventeen. It’s different for you.”
“I know,” Amy said. “Honey, I think the best thing you can do is get back out there and try to meet some people. Really. I mean, what’s a girl without her girlfriends?”
Maria ventured a playful guess. “A member of the chess club?”
Amy gave her a disapproving look. “Maria . . . you’re certainly not going to win friends that way.”
“I’m joking,” Maria informed her. “Okay, I might head out today, but not for the friend purpose. I’m thinking I should go get some gas in my car.”
Amy shrugged. “Suit yourself. But don’t hate the day before it even begins, okay? Give it a chance. Who knows, things might even be better.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Nope, not better.” Maria groaned as she got out of her car at the Lift-Off gas station. Two shifty biker-type men were standing a few feet away with their motorcycles, and from the moment she had pulled up to the pump, their eyes had never left her. She did her best to ignore them as she dug around her purse for her wallet and credit card, but she could hear them whispering about her. She suddenly wished she’d worn looser jeans. Their eyes made her extremely uncomfortable.
“Shake that tail, pussycat,” one of them called as she made her way around the back of the Benz to the pump. She tried not to tense up; she didn’t want them to see how uneasy their comments made her.
With her credit card in hand, Maria stood in front of the gas pump. She surveyed the three different types of gas available: unleaded, super unleaded, and diesel fuel. She stared ahead, dumbfounded, as it suddenly occurred to her that she didn’t know what kind to pick. Worse than that, she didn’t even know what to do with it. She had never even pumped her own gas before, and she wasn’t sure how to go about it.
She glanced up at the price board and then back down at her credit card. Should I pick diesel? she contemplated feeling stupid as all get out. That’s the cheapest. But cost really isn’t an issue. God, what is it that I always got back in Denver? She couldn’t remember for the life of her. Denver had been easier in more ways than one.
She thought about just trying her hand at it out and figuring everything out along the way, but she didn’t want the biker guys to see her getting flustered. That would give them the opportunity to come over and “help” her, and she wasn’t too crazy about that scenario. As embarrassing as it was, she knew she was going to have to go in and ask for help. She supposed it didn’t matter. Nobody here knew her yet, and she considered them all to be a bunch of dumb jerks. She didn’t care what they thought of her, so she could handle some momentary humiliation.
She stuck her credit card in her back pocket, shuffled around the side of the car, and started for the building. On her way, she heard the bikers shouting more things at her. “So long, sweet cheeks!”
She ignored them both and concentrated on the task at hand: getting help.
Michael Guerin was busy not enjoying the monotony of stacking shelves behind the service counter when a woman’s voice interrupted his isolation.
“Excuse me?”
He looked away from his work and up at her suddenly, expecting to see a mother type. Far from it. A young girl stared right down at him with bright green eyes, a rather helpless look on her face. Her lips were gently parted as if she were about to ask him a question, and her long, blonde hair fell gently over her shoulders. She was a pretty girl.
He wasn’t sure what she wanted from him, and he didn’t care. Few people ever spoke any words to him in this place, so he welcomed anything out of the ordinary routine.
“Uh, can I help you?” he asked curiously, stepping up to the counter and giving her his full attention.
“Yeah, actually.” She didn’t say anything more, as if ‘yeah, actually’ was supposed to explain it all.
He gave her a questioning look. “With what? Are you in here to pay?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“You wanna buy something?”
She shook her head again. “Uh-uh.”
He didn’t get it. Was she just in here to make small-talk or something?
“This is actually kind of embarrassing,” she said, glancing around the store. “Um . . . I need help.”
“So I gathered.” He sighed, knowing he didn’t have time for this. “Okay, look, I’m kinda busy. You want help? There’s a psych ward down in Dexter.”
“A psy–a psych ward?!” she stuttered in outrage.
He nodded, still unwavering.
“I don’t need that kind of help,” she informed him.
He raised his eyebrows, examining her. She looked as though she could get a little crazy to him.
“I don’t,” she insisted. “Listen, I’m having a problem. Not a psychological problem. A gas problem.” The minute she said that, she cringed.
“Rolaids,” he suggested.
She shook her head. “No, no, not that kind of gas. That kind.” She gestured outside. “The kind out there.”
“Oh,” he said, realizing this wasn’t going to be such an out-of-the-ordinary problem after all. People came in all the time complaining about the pumps. “Something’s not workin’ right, huh?” He grunted. “Never is.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “Actually, I’m fairly certain everything’s working fine. It’s just, um . . .” She trailed off. “God, this is so embarrassing.”
“I ran outta my house naked once,” he blurted out. “That’s embarrassing.”
She gave him a confused look.
He shrugged. “Just putting things in perspective.”
“No, this is really embarrassing, too,” she insisted. “Actually, now that I’m in here, I’m thinking it borders on humiliating.”
“What does?” Under normal circumstances, he would be growing impatient, but he didn’t mind this girl just yet. She was actually somewhat entertaining.
“It’s me,” she said. “I, um . . . oh, God.”
“Just say it.”
“Fine!” she exclaimed. “I . . .” Before she blurted it out at top-notch decibel, she lowered her voice. “I don’t know how to get gas.”
“Just eat some spicy Cheetos,” he joked. “Always works for me.”
“Shut up. And gross. You know what I’m talking about. This is serious.”
He couldn’t help chuckling. “Yeah, seriously funny. You don’t know how to get your own gas?”
“Shh!” she hushed. “Don’t spread it around.”
He laughed some more. “I just . . . no, I don’t believe it. What do you really need?”
“This,” she said. “I need help getting gas in my car. I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know.”
He had thought she was joking. He could tell now, though, that she wasn’t. She was dead serious about this. He stared at her in disbelief. “Are you stupid or something?”
“Stupid?” she shrieked. “Not even! This is perfectly normal!”
He shook his head. “It’s not.”
“I’m sure it is!”
“I work here,” he pointed out. “I’m sure it’s not.”
She frowned, slumping her shoulders. “Okay, fine. Make me feel like a total loser then. I don’t care. But I’m not stupid!”
“Well, you don’t know how to work the simplest machine known to man-kind,” he pointed out. “You can’t exactly be the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, either!”
“I am bright,” she insisted. “Look, the thing is, it’s not my fault.”
“Is this gonna be one of those daddy never loved me stories?”
“What?”
“You’d be surprised how many of those I hear in here. It’s like tending a bar, only lame.”
“Whatever,” she said. “Listen, I’m new in town. This is only my second day here, okay?”
“That’s your excuse?” He shook his head, disappointed in her. Here he had been thinking she wasn’t just another dumb blonde . . .
“Back where I lived before, there was this kinda old-fashioned gas station.”
“Old-fashioned, huh?” He had no idea what she meant by that.
“Yeah, and it was really cool, because they actually had people stand out there and pump your gas for you. I never even had to get out of the car, not even in the winter.” She smiled dreamily. “It was really convenient.”
“I’m sure it was,” he said. “Yeah, we don’t have anything like that here.”
“Exactly,” she said. “I’ve never had to pump my own gas before. That’s why I don’t know how.”
“Go figure it out,” he told her.
“Well, I could, but I don’t wanna screw up.”
“It’s not that hard.”
“Still . . .” She pouted. “Come on. Please, just help me.”
For whatever reason, he wanted to. He usually didn’t give girls like this the time of day, but something seemed different about her. “I don’t know,” he said, considering it.
“Please,” she begged. “It’ll take, what, all of five minutes?”
Before he could reply, he heard Martin, his co-worker shouting something to him from the back. “Hey! Guerin! You better get back to work and stop flirting!”
He chuckled. “Dude, she’s got a problem. She can’t---”
“Get the machine to work!” she cut in quickly before he could finish. “The machine, it’s . . . malfunctioning.”
He gave her a look out of the corner of his eye and decided to protect her dignity. “Right,” he lied. “You know how it does that.”
“Well, get it fixed,” Martin said.
“Yeah, get it fixed,” the girl echoed.
He braced himself on the counter, trying to grasp the fact that he was contemplating this. “Here’s the thing,” he said. “I don’t really do things for girls like you.”
“Girls like me?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Tell me what I’m like.”
“Obviously one of those spoiled chicks who’s never had to lift a finger.”
“Oh, I’ve lifted a finger,” she assured him. “I’ve lifted a hand, actually.”
He laughed inwardly. She was definitely strange. As much as he wanted to classify her as another blonde bimbo, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more about her, something better. “I guess outward appearances can be deceiving,” he conceded.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “They can. So help me. Tell me what to do.”
He leaned forward, feeling drawn to her. “Okay, it’s not that hard. You goin’ credit card?”
She nodded.
“Okay, then you just . . .” He trailed off as he looked at her. He was starting to see how very different she was. Unlike the other girls in Roswell, she wasn’t just pretty. She was beautiful.
“You just . . .” he repeated, feeling like an idiot.
She looked at him expectantly, but he couldn’t get any words out. He was dumbfounded.
At last, he regained his composure. “You know what? On second thought, we can’t ask for miracles. I’ll show you.”
Her mouth gaped on account of the miracles comment, but he knew she wasn’t mad. The minute he grinned at her, the outraged look on her face transformed into a smile.
“Marty, watch the counter for me!” he called back to his co-worker.
“Sure thing!” Martin called back.
Michael gestured outside to the beautiful girl. “Come on.” He lead the way out. She followed behind rather sheepishly, muttering a quiet thanks under her breath.
“Which one’s yours?” he asked, looking over a beat up junker parked in front of a gorgeous gold Benz. “That one?” He pointed to the junker, figuring even pretty girls could drive bad cars.
She shook her head. “Uh, no, the other one.”
“The other one?” He gazed at the Benz and then looked down at her incredulously. “That’s yours?”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling a little.
“You drive that?”
“More or less. I think someday I’m gonna crash it.”
“Wow,” he said, stepping toward it. “That’s a nice car.”
“Thanks,” she said, following along beside him.
“That’s really nice.” He sauntered around the car, surveying both the inside and the outside. It had leather seats, something his car didn’t, and what appeared to be a working radio, which his car was also without. He felt envious. “You don’t see too many of these around here, especially not in the hands of teenagers.”
“Well, my dad got it for me,” she explained.
“Bet it cost a pretty penny.”
She nodded. “It did.”
He began to gather that she and her dad were pretty well off financially. Lucky them, he thought enviously.
“So, show me what to do,” she said, seeming so much more relaxed then she had been at the counter. “I promise I’ll do it myself next time.” She blushed. “God, I feel so embarrassed.”
“It’s fine,” he said. He didn’t hate this. Helping her gave him a chance to get out from behind that counter, glimpse this fabulous car, and have an actual conversation with someone besides Martin and his boss. Besides, who wouldn’t want to spend time with this gorgeous girl, regardless of how weird she was?
He stepped up in front of the machine and held his hand out for her credit card.
“What?” she asked him, not understanding.
“Card,” he explained.
“You want my credit card?”
“Yeah,” he said. “You gotta put it in here, you know.” He tapped the machine and waited for her to hand it over.
She pulled it out of her back pocket and held it skeptically. “How do I know you won’t take it and run with it? You could be a criminal.”
“I’m not.”
“But you could be.”
He looked her right in the eyes. “Well, you might just have to trust me.”
She gazed at him, seeming to be in the same trance that he was, and finally she handed her credit card over to him.
“Okay,” he said. “So you stick the card in here.” He inserted it into the scanner. “See, it tells you where to put it. It has words and even a nice little picture.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m incompetent. I know.”
“Only marginally,” he said, swiping the card back out when he could. “Okay, so then it asks you what kind of fuel you want.”
“Diesel?” she guessed.
“Diesel,” he echoed, shaking his head. “No.”
“Why not? It’s cheap.”
“Is money really an issue here?”
She looked down at the Benz and then back at him. “Okay, no. What do I get?”
“Not diesel,” he said. “That’s more for trucks and semis and stuff.”
“Oh,” she said. “Big X on diesel. How ‘bout unleaded? I think that’s what I always got back in Denver. I think.”
“Denver, huh?” he said.
“Denver, Colorado.”
He had never thought about Colorado very much before. Had he know that girls this pretty called it home, though, he would have studied up.
“Okay, so what next?” she asked him, still eager to learn.
“Right,” he said, snapping himself out of his thoughts. “You say you want unleaded.” He pressed a button. “Okay, you open this up.” He opened up the small hatch on the side of the car. “Turn this knob.” He turned the gas knob until he had it off, and reached back for the unleaded pump. “Stick this thing in there and let it go.” He chuckled. “It’s like sex.”
She laughed a little, too. “How erotic.”
“Yeah, really.” He stuck the pump in there, squeezed the handle, and waited as the tank began to fill up. He leaned against the car and looked back at her, finding himself wondering what her story was. All he knew was that she was new and from Denver, and most likely rich. He wanted to know more. “So what’s your name?”
“My name?” she echoed as though she were surprised someone was wondering. “Well, besides new girl . . . Maria.”
“Maria.” He let the name roll across his tongue. It was a nice name. “Maria what?”
“DeLuca.”
“Maria DeLuca.”
“And yours would be?”
“Michael,” he told her.
“It’s nice to meet you, Michael,” she told him, smiling that small smile she was so good at.
“I’m nice to meet.”
She laughed.
“So what did you mean when you said ‘besides new girl’?” he inquired. “You move around a lot?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I grew up in Chicago, and then when I was, like, thirteen, we moved to Detroit.”
“And then Denver?” he guessed.
“Yeah, then Denver. And now here.”
“Why do you move around so much?” He hoped he wasn’t sounding nosy. He was just interested. “Army brat?”
“No, just . . . my dad,” she answered cryptically.
“Oh, does he have one of those traveling jobs or something?”
She tilted her head to the side playfully. “Or something.”
“Ah, that kinda sucks.” He removed the pump from the tank, seeing that it was already full. “Okay, I think you’re done,” he said, setting unleaded back in its place. “Oh, here’s your credit card.” He handed it back to her. Her fingertips brushed his when she took it back.
“Not a criminal,” she joked, sticking it back in her wallet.
He grinned. “Just a guy.” He tightened the nob on the gas tank again until he heard a click, shut the hatch door and looked back at her. “Well, that’s it. Oh, it asks you if you want a receipt. You want one?”
She shook her head. “Don’t think so.”
He pressed no, and then took a few steps toward her. “Okay then. I should probably be getting back to work.”
“Oh, me, too,” she said. “Well, not work, exactly. Home.”
“Yeah,” he said, still not taking his eyes off her. “Hey, uh, listen, if you still can’t handle this next time, just come get me.”
“Okay,” she said, blushing a little. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” he said, backing up toward the building. “I’ll see you around.”
She nodded her head in agreement, and went around to the driver’s side. She looked back up at him and smiled one more time before getting in the car and driving away.
Once she was gone, he turned and headed back into the building, ready to stock shelves again. Martin was grinning like and idiot at the counter when he returned. “Machine’s not workin’, huh?”
Michael chuckled. “Shut up, man.”
“So you pump her gas. What’s she pumpin’ for you?”
“You’re sick, you know that?” he told him. “Get out of here.”
The house smelled of zucchini bread when Maria arrived home. She was surprised to see her mother back in the kitchen so soon. Sometimes it seemed as though the poor woman lived there.
“Hey, Mom,” she greeted, tossing her purse onto the couch. She sat down beside it, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. She felt tired after her restless night last night.
“How did it go?” her mom asked her. “Did you find the station alright?”
“Mmm-hmm. It’s at the edge of town, which obviously isn’t that far from the center of town.”
“I suppose it was a self-service one.”
“Oh, yeah,” Maria said, remembering how embarrassed she had been to ask for help. “It’s okay, though. I figured it out.”
“Good for you.”
Maria sighed. “Yep. This is just another demonstration of how Denver kicks Roswell’s ass.”
“Do you want some of this bread?” her mother inquired, ignoring her last comment. “It’s good.”
“No thanks.”
“You sure.”
“Yep.” Maria sat up and looked around the house. It was good to be home. Being inside here almost made her forget where she was living now.
“Did you do anything else?” her mom asked, although it was obvious her attention was still on her beloved zucchini bread. “You were gone for awhile.”
“Yeah, I drove around on account of my brand new gas, still searching for that ever-elusive dance club.”
“And?” Amy sounded hopeful.
“And I’ve come to the conclusion that it doesn’t exist. There’s no hope. I looked everywhere. It’s not here.”
“I’m sorry,” Amy said. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find other things to do.”
Maria wasn’t so sure. So far, she hadn’t really done anything except be gawked at by the entire male population and be insulted by snobby girls. And be embarrassed, of course.
“You didn’t happen to make any friends, did you?” Again, Amy sounded hopeful. Maria wondered how she could sound that way in a town that was completely hopeless.
“No friends,” Maria told her solemnly. “Well . . . no. No friends. But . . .” She started remembering the guy from the gas station, the tall one with the spiky hair. Michael. “I met this guy, and he wasn’t completely horrible.”
“A guy?” Amy echoed. Maria knew if her father was in the room, both parents would be losing it; but since it was just her mother, the house remained calm.
“Yeah, he helped me with the gas.”
“Oh,” Amy said, sounding nervous. “Well, was he good-looking?”
Maria smiled a little, picturing him. “Yeah, he was.”
Amy came into the living room with some of her bread. “Don’t tell your father,” she warned, sitting down on the couch beside Maria.
“Trust me, I won’t.”
Between bites, Amy asked, “Do you think you’ll go to school with him, with this guy?”
“Oh, no,” she replied shaking her head. “He’s probably in college or something. I only talked to him for a little bit, actually. I’m pretty sure I’ll never ever see him again. It’s just nice to know that not all the guys here are total pigs.”
“I bet,” Amy agreed. “Well, you know, honey, if you can’t find any friends your own age, you should try getting to know the neighbors. I ventured over to the people next door and some people across the street today.”
“Make any friends?”
Amy shrugged. “Acquaintances. It’s a start.”
“That’s good, Mom.” Maria wished she had made some acquaintances. They might make Roswell a little easier to tolerate.
“I’m sure they’d love getting to know you,” Amy went on. “You should think about it if things don’t improve.”
Maria cringed. “Uh, well, as nice as they may be, I’m seventeen, and I’m not exactly looking to pal around with forty year-olds.”
Amy gave her a look. “You make me sound elderly.”
“Sorry,” Maria apologized. “You know what I mean.”
Amy nodded. “Yeah. Well, I talked to this twenty-five year-old girl today. Maybe . . .” She let her sentence fade and shook her head then as if something had suddenly occurred to her. “No, she has a seven year-old son. Maybe you shouldn’t go see her.”
Maria chuckled. “Probably not. Bad influence and all.” She stretched her arms above her head, grabbed her purse, and stood up. “Okay, I think I’m gonna head upstairs, maybe try and get some rest.”
“That’s right. You had a rough night,” Amy said. “Oh, do me a favor. Check out the things I laid on your bed.”
“The things?”
“Yeah, there’s a few college pamphlets and a book I ordered about UCLA.”
“UCLA,” Maria resounded. Her parents, especially her dad, were pushing her toward that college. “Cool.”
“Yeah, I know that’s your number one pick.” Amy smiled.
“Sure is,” Maria said, although she knew her number one pick was the musician option. Always had been. Always would be. “And you say you ordered this book?”
Amy blushed. “Okay, your father did. He told me to give it to you. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“No shooting,” Maria promised. “I’ll just go check it out.”
“Okay,” Amy chirped. “Then get some rest, honey.”
Maria turned and headed up the stairs, trying to be excited about this. UCLA was a good school, and she was lucky her parents could afford it for her. Plus, her dad was seriously thrilled about her attendance. She hadn’t been accepted yet, but it was looking like she would be. She didn’t want to let him down.
Her eyes almost bulged out of her head when she saw the book that awaited her. It was no brief read. It looked more like the size of the bible. Great.
She stifled a groan, sat down on the edge of her bed, flipped through the pamphlets quickly, and then set the book in her lap. It was a nice book. It probably hadn’t been cheap. But as much as she wanted to please her dad and tell him that she had gotten through the entire first section by the time he got home, she wanted to rest more; so she moved the book aside, lay down on the bed, and fell fast asleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael was just finishing up his shift at the Lift-Off when his friends, Alex Whitman and Isabel Evans walked in the doors. Alex was a good guy, but he and Michael were unlikely friends. They had begun a reluctant companionship way back in ninth grade due to bonding in chem lab. Back then, Michael had been wary of associating with known geeks, and Alex had always been a self-admitted computer nerd. Alex was cool, though, in his own way, and girls noticed it. Isabel was one of the most sought after girls in Roswell. She had moved here a year ago, and every guy had noticed her. Unfortunately for all the onlookers, though, Isabel only noticed Alex.
“Hey, my man!” Alex greeted, rushing up to the counter to give him a high-five. “How’s it goin’?”
“How do you think?” Michael asked in return. Days spent working at the gas station could only be so fun.
“It looks cleaner in here than it did last time,” Isabel commented, stepping up beside Alex. “You must be working hard.”
“Well, you know me.”
Alex hooked his arm around Isabel and pulled her close. She giggled and leaned her head on his shoulder. They made a good couple. Michael often found himself feeling envious of what they had.
“So,” Alex said, “are we still goin’ to that thing tonight?”
“What thing?” Michael asked him. Between his work life, his home life, and his social life, he had trouble keeping things straight.
“That bonfire down at the park,” Alex elaborated. “Free hotdogs.”
“Oh, yeah, the hotdogs.” It was all coming back to him now. He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re going. I’m just waitin’ for Dan to show up so I can get the hell outta here.”
“You sound eager,” Isabel remarked. She looked around some more. “I’d be eager to.”
“Have you been working all day?” Alex asked him.
“Pretty much.”
Alex shook his head. “No, you know, that’s just not right. There’s a lawsuit in this somewhere.”
Michael chuckled. “Know any good lawyers?”
“Actually,” Isabel cut in, “I heard from the grapevine that some hot-shot attorney just moved here. You know what that means: from now on, when Alex says there’s a lawsuit, there might actually be a lawsuit.”
“It’s alright,” Michael said. “I’m doin’ fine. And besides, it’s just a temporary gig.”
“Oh, it’s a gig, is it?” Alex looked as though he were about to burst out laughing. “You hear that, Izzy? Listen to that fancy photog speak! Not a job, a gig.”
Isabel smiled. “Smooth.”
Alex nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I should’ve been saying that when everyone asked me what the hell I was doing working at the yogurt factory last month.”
Michael laughed. “That was a pretty lame job, man.”
“Gig,” Alex corrected. “Ah, we do what we have to, right?”
“Right,” Michael agreed. “Oh, I see Dan. I’m gonna go home and change and I’ll meet you guys at the bonfire, alright?” He pushed past his friends and headed outside, excited to leave work and do something fun for a change.
“See ya, Michael!” Alex called.
“See ya!”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria awoke when she heard her father pull into the driveway. The huge UCLA book was lying beside her, still unopened. She thought about trying to cram in a few pages before dinner but ultimately decided against it. She did a lot of things against her will, such as moving down here in the first place, and she wasn’t going to be forced into reading that book just as she was forced into doing so many other things.
She was at the top of the stairs when her father entered the house. He was high-maintenance from the moment he stepped foot inside. She could tell he’d had a good day at work.
“Oh, it feels wonderful out there!” he raved. “Gotta love summers in New Mexico.”
His energy made her leery of going downstairs, because she was feeling just the opposite. She had no energy whatsoever. She had nothing to be excited about. Being around him when he was in such a good mood might only make her feel worse.
“I had a wonderful day at work,” he exclaimed. “I wanna tell you all about it, Amy. Where’s Maria?”
“Um, upstairs, I think,” Amy told him.
“What, is she hibernating or something?”
“I’m not hibernating,” Maria told him, reluctantly starting down the stairs. “I was resting. I was tired.”
“Oh, good for you,” he said, heading straight into the kitchen. “What’s for dinner? I’m starved.”
“A new beef and corn casserole I’ve been wanting to try out,” Amy told him. “Go ahead. Have a seat. It’ll be done in a minute.”
“Beef and corn?” Maria didn’t like the sound of that. She took a seat at the dining room table on the left-hand side of her father and sighed dramatically. She knew she wasn’t going to enjoy this dinner. She rarely enjoyed anything like this.
“I wanna hear about work,” Amy said as she scooped some casserole onto plates. “Tell me something, Jim.”
“Oh, okay,” he said. “Um . . . wow. Where do I start? Well, I think the primary reason why I love my new firm here in Roswell is because I’m the best one there.”
“Really?” Amy sounded pleased.
“And the highest paid,” he added in proudly. “I checked out all the financial records.”
“Are you allowed to do that?” Amy asked him, placing a plate down in front of him.
“No,” he admitted, “but I can ‘cause I’m the best god-damned lawyer in the joint! Ha, ha!”
“And you tell me to watch my language,” Maria muttered.
“What was that?” he asked her. “Oh, by the way, Maria, I drove by some gathering in the park on my way home. Some bonfire or something. I didn’t know if you were gonna go or not.”
“I didn’t even know there was a bonfire,” she said. “It’s probably lame, just like every other stupid thing here. I think I’ll just stay home.”
“Good choice,” Jim said, digging into his casserole.
“Good choice?” she echoed as her mother placed a plate down in front of her. She glanced down at her meal, not attracted by the sight or the smell of it. “I hate this.”
“Uh, Maria, why don’t you tell your dad how much you liked that book he got you,” Amy said, trying to ease the tension as she often did.
“Liked?” Maria thought about it. “Well, it’s heavy. I bet I could build-up some great muscles with it.”
“Maria!” Amy snapped.
She sighed and gave in. “It’s a nice book, Dad. Thank you.”
“Oh, you’re welcome,” he said while snarfing away the casserole. “Which part did you like the best?”
“Part?” She glanced at her mother nervously. “Well, I haven’t actually started reading it yet.”
He gave her a look. “Then how can you say it’s nice?”
“Dad, please,” she said, sticking her fork into the casserole. “Let’s just have a nice dinner without talking about college for once. Please.”
“Okay,” he agreed, hesitating only a little. “So about that bonfire . . .”
She rolled her eyes.
“I’m glad you’re not there,” he said. “It looked like a lot of crazy teenagers doing a lot of crazy things.”
“Crazy, huh?” Somehow, she knew her father’s definition of crazy didn’t align with other definitions. To him, dancing to rap music was crazy.
“Oh, yeah,” he assured her. “They were running around and talking way too much for their own good, and I’m pretty sure I saw them eating unhealthy hot dogs. Oh, and hamburgers.”
“A hamburger sounds good right now,” Maria remarked, staring down at her casserole unenthusiastically.
“Well, this has beef in it,” Amy said. “Try it, Maria. You’ll like it.”
“I’m not hungry,” she said, pushing her plate away dejectedly.
“Now, your mother went to a lot of work on that,” Jim pointed out. “You better eat it.”
“It’s okay,” Amy assured him. “We’ll save it for tomorrow night.”
“Great,” Maria said sarcastically. She didn’t want to be a brat, and she knew she kind of was, but this was awful. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had thoroughly enjoyed a family dinner.
Jim shook his head in disappointment as he demolished the last bit of his food. “You’re not shining too brightly here, young lady,” he said. “You’ve ignored the book I got you. You’ve ignored your mother’s food. You’ve been complaining non-stop. I swear, Maria, I think skipping the bonfire’s the only smart thing you’ve done thus far.”
“What’s so bad about the bonfire?” she asked him. “I mean, besides all the so-called craziness.”
“It’s just the kids,” he explained. “Being around other people, especially so many other people, cannot possibly be a good thing.”
She wished she had the nerve to tell him that being around him was not a good thing, or at least it rarely was. He spent too much time protecting her. It was suffocating.
“That’s interesting,” she said. “You know what? Mom’s actually been encouraging me all day to go out there and make some friends.”
Jim dropped his fork on the table and locked eyes with Amy. He looked as though he were about to go through the roof. “Is this true?”
“Girlfriends,” Amy explained. “You know I’d never . . .” She let her sentence dissipate. “No boys. I’m onboard.”
“It’s just kinda difficult,” Maria told them. “I’ve got one parent telling me to socialize and the other telling me it’s good to be a loner.”
“Not a loner,” Jim corrected, “just reserved. I’m sorry if your mother’s been filling your head with nonsense.” He glared at Amy.
Amy immediately buckled down and agreed. “You know what, honey? Your father’s right. He’s exactly right. Don’t listen to me. Listen to him. He knows what he’s talking about.”
Maria stared at her in disbelief, wondering how she could remain so compliant after all these years. Didn’t she feel suffocated, too? “I think I’m gonna go to bed,” she announced, getting up from the table.
“Read that book before you do,” her father called after her.
She tried to tune him out as she headed up the stairs, but his demanding voice followed her all the way into her dreams.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Okay, so I thought that bonfire would be contained,” Isabel, hurrying along with Alex and Michael as they quickly left the park.
“Well, sometimes they get outta control,” Alex explained, stopping at his SUV and looking back at the park. Michael looked back, too. The fire was definitely getting out of control. Flames were blowing and smoke was billowing. He could hear the sound of fire trucks rushing down the street. “Say it, Alex,” he urged.
His friend didn’t hesitate. “There’s a lawsuit in that somewhere.”
“Definitely,” Michael agreed. “They should get that new lawyer.”
“Who should, the city?” Isabel asked. “The city’s gonna sue?”
“If the park’s damaged, they should,” Alex said. “Whoa, just as long as they don’t sue the party-goers. This so wasn’t our fault.”
“I better not get sued,” Michael said. “I’ve put in a lot of hours at the Lift-Off, and I don’t intend to lose my cash to this freak-show.”
“Let’s just go home,” Isabel said. “It’s getting smokey out here.”
“Okay, we’ll go,” Alex said, helping her into his car. “Michael, you should get out of here, too, man. It doesn’t seem safe.”
“Yeah, I’ll go,” he said, backing up toward his beat-up Honda. “Oh, well, it was lame anyway.”
Alex nodded in agreement, waved goodbye to Michael, and climbed into the car with Isabel. They were gone in seconds. Michael was about to climb in his car when someone called his name.
“Michael, wait!”
He looked around, recognizing the voice. He peered into the smoke and saw Liz Parker running toward him, covering her mouth and coughing. “Michael!”
He resisted the urge to get in the car and motor. He really didn’t want to deal with this girl right now, but his conscience or whatever was telling him to stay. If Liz needed a way home, he’d give her a ride only for the reason that being around the park was no longer safe.
“Michael, I’m so glad I caught you,” she said, gasping for air as if she had been running a long time. “Max left me behind, and I don’t have a way to get home. Can you take me?”
Just as she was saying that, Michael saw Max Evans, Liz’s current boy-toy and Isabel’s no-good brother, driving leisurely down the road, smiling at Liz as he passed by. Liz noticed, too, and grinned coyly at Michael. “Oh, he’s such a bastard.”
“What’re you trying to pull, Liz?” he asked her. This girl was always planning something.
“Nothing,” she insisted, coughing. “Is it too much to ask for a ride home? I mean, we’re friends right?”
Wrong, he thought, looking at her suspiciously. He and Liz had never been friends. They never would be. He tolerated her and she obsessed over him. That’s how it had been for quite some time now.
“Please, Michael,” she begged. “It’s getting really bad out here.”
Michael was about to agree to it when screeching tires stopped him. He watched as Max spun a U-turn in the middle of the crowded street and drove back toward him and Liz. He stopped next to his girlfriend, rolled down the window, and handed her a hair tie. “Here, baby,” he said. “I forgot to give it back.”
“Max!” she hissed, obviously wanting him to go away. “You were supposed to leave!”
Michael rolled his eyes and opened the driver’s side door of his car inconspicuously, hoping Liz wouldn’t notice. He climbed inside and locked the doors before she could protest.
“Now look!” he heard her shouting at Max. “Look, he’s leaving!”
He waved goodbye to the idiots and pulled out onto the road the first chance he got. When he glanced back in his rearview mirror, he saw Liz reluctantly piling into the car with Max. Good, he thought, glad that he wouldn’t have to deal with her any more tonight. Liz Parker was a major thorn in his side. He was hoping to get her out of his life completely someday.
Once Michael got out of the smoke and the traffic, he was able to relax and enjoy the drive back to his house. He liked driving, being in the car and traveling down the lonesome road alone. It was a sort of solace for him. It gave him time to think and reflect. Unfortunately for him, though, there wasn’t much to reflect on. He had spent most of his summer days so far working. Once in awhile he had something fun like the bonfire to look forward to, but even it had turned out to be a bust.
Michael turned up the rock music and tried to suppress the feeling of envy he got in the pit of his stomach as he drove by the nicer houses Roswell had to offer. He wished he could live somewhere like that. It wasn’t a possibility for him, though. He drove right on by, resigning himself to the fact that he would never even glimpse the inside of one of those residences.
He could still hear the commotion from the park when he reached his own house. He wondered when it was going to die down. He had another long workday tomorrow, and he needed to get some rest.
He parked the car in the driveway and headed up the steps to the front door. One of the steps snapped under his weight, and he almost toppled over. He made a mental note to get that fixed at some point and pushed his way into the old house. Every time he opened the front door, he feared the entire structure would collapse, and he breathed a sigh of relief every time it didn’t.
“Hey, Dad, there’s a step out there that’s broken, so watch out,” he said, stepping around the garbage that lay on the floor. “Dad?” He looked up and saw his father, Hank, on the couch with a woman, sucking on her neck. “Okay, I’m home, so . . .” He kicked a few beer bottles out of the way, heading for the stairs.
“Oh, Mikey.” Hank seemed suddenly alert. He stopped what he was doing with the woman and smiled. “How’s it goin’, son?”
“Fine,” Michael replied, examining the woman in Hank’s arms. He didn’t recognize her. “Who’s that?”
“Oh, this is Sonya,” he introduced, smiling at the woman.
“Sophia,” she corrected.
“Right, Sophia.” He brushed her hair back from her face. “You’re beautiful, baby.”
Michael resisted the urge to throw-up. That woman couldn’t be much older than he was. He didn’t understand how girls like that could go for guys like his dad. “What happened to Willa?” he asked, wondering where his dad’s last girlfriend had gone. Willa had stuck around for awhile, for a few weeks, actually. She was a good person, and Michael liked her. She actually had a head on her shoulders.
“Willa got boring,” Hank told him. “Sophia’s all fun.”
Sophia giggled like the air-head she undoubtedly was.
“I dumped Willa this morning,” Hank went on to explain. “Then I ran into my angel.” He stroked Sophia’s cheek. “She’s a keeper.”
“Yeah, sure,” Michael muttered, turning his back on the drunken couple and heading upstairs. He didn’t want to see any more of that. He couldn’t stifle a yawn as he opened the door to the closet and stepped up the stairs to his loft. The one nice thing about his house and possibly his entire life was his bedroom. Hank hadn’t had any use for it, so he’d given it to Michael for his birthday back in eighth grade. Over the years, it had become Michael’s sanctuary. It was quiet while everything else was loud. It was comfortable while everything else was harsh. He didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have this one place to come back to.
Exhausted, he stripped down to his boxers and crawled into bed, ready to get a good rest before going to work tomorrow and starting the same routine all over again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“So you get that my dad’s a control freak, right? It’s awful. I was actually contemplating getting a fake boyfriend and having this fake relationship just so he would decide to pack up and move again. But then I decided not to, ‘cause it dawned on me that there’s no way he’s ever taking me back to Denver. Besides, knowing him, he’d probably take me somewhere worse, assuming there’s a place on the face of the earth worse than this.” Maria shook her head, depressed. “God, you don’t know how nice it is to find somebody who’ll just sit there and listen.” She smiled at the little girl sitting across from her in the booth. She couldn’t be more than five or six years old. “You know, you’re a really good friend.”
Just then, the little girl’s mother came back to the table. “Thank you for watching her,” she said, taking her daughter’s hand. “Come on, Mandy, let’s go.”
Mandy slid out from the booth and left with her mother in silence.
“Bye!” Maria called, waving after the little girl like a fool. “Nice talking to you! We’ll hang out!” She leaned back against the seat and stared blankly ahead, knowing this was stupid. Conversing with a kindergartner was like talking to a brick wall. No response. Still, it was better than nothing. She had been in Roswell for exactly one week now, and she had yet to make a single friend. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been trying, though. She had run into lots of girls out and about and tried everything she could think of to win their approval. She had complimented their clothes, even though most outfits were disastrous. She had acted ditzy at times but soon found she couldn’t pretend to be who she wasn’t. She had even lied about her Mercedes and said it wasn’t hers just so potential friends wouldn’t get jealous; but none of her tactics worked. All the girls still looked at her with contempt in their eyes, and she was still without a single friend.
Her father kept insisting that she didn’t need friends. He kept trying to tell her that her family was enough, but it wasn’t. Her parents drove her crazy half the time. Her dad acted as though he had all the answers, and her mother was always busy being his perfect little shadow. Neither one of them took the time to understand her at all. They never had.
Maria was busy perfecting her impression of an inanimate object and breathing in the gross odors of the Crashdown Café when a young guy slid into the seat across from her. He had on a cowboy hat and a jean jacket. She halfway expected him to spit tobacco and greet her with a howdy, but he didn’t. He just smiled. He was a good-looking guy. He looked friendly enough.
“Hi,” she said, not sure what he wanted. Was he like the other guys she had met so far? She wouldn’t doubt it. She could see the faintest hint of horniness deep in his eyes.
“Hey, I’m Kyle,” he greeted. “What’s your name?”
Well, he wants to know my name, she thought. That’s a start. “Maria.”
“You new here, Maria?”
“I moved here a week ago,” she told him.
“Oh, yeah? I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around?”
“Yeah, I’m kinda keeping a low profile when it comes to guys.”
“Why’s that?” He seemed genuinely interested. Either he was really a decent guy or he was one hell of an actor.
“Just badness,” she replied, not wanting to elaborate.
“Yeah, I felt the same way when I moved here last year,” he said. “About girls, though. Some of ‘em are pretty nasty. All they do is have cat fights with each other. Call me crazy, but I’m looking for more, you know?”
“Yeah,” she said, leaning forward a little. “It’s nice to meet you, by the way.”
“Oh yeah, you, too,” he said. “Yeah, I just saw you over here by yourself, figured you’re too beautiful to be dining alone.”
“Beautiful?” she echoed. She hoped she wasn’t being fooled.
“Absolutely,” he said. “You know, I’m not like those other guys. Listen, maybe we could go talk somewhere. You know, somewhere a little quieter.”
“Quieter?” She was starting to get a bad feeling about this.
“Yeah,” he said, “quieter. More private.” A smirk played at the corners of his lips.
She knew now that he wasn’t genuine. He had been trying to play her. “Unbelievable!” she shouted, throwing her hands up in the air exasperatedly. “You say you’re not like other guys? You’re exactly like them! God, you’re probably their leader or something! I can’t believe you almost had me!”
“Mary---”
“Mary?!” she shrieked. “That’s not my name! You can’t even remember my name! You’re a piece of trash redneck!”
“Marina---”
“That’s not my name, either!” She got up from the table, grabbed her cola, and tossed it right in his face. He sat there and took it, seeming shocked that she had rejected him. Maria could feel the eyes of many of the restaurant’s patrons locked on her, so she darted out the front door. She had to get out of there. She just wanted to go home to her nice house, run up to her nice bedroom, and be alone. Maybe she could write a song. She could always relieve stress by writing songs.
She jammed her keys into the ignition and brought the Benz to life. She was just about to back out of her parking space when she noticed that she was running desperately low on gas. She debated whether to go home and go get gas tomorrow or go right now and get it over with. Finally, she backed out and zoomed down the highway to the edge of town. If I do this today, she reasoned, I can stay at home all day tomorrow. That’ll be great.
For some reason, she became less and less stressed the closer she got to the station. When she finally arrived there, she actually found herself feeling good. She got out of the car, wondering why that was.
I guess my last visit here wasn’t bad, she thought as she got out of the car. It was actually the one decent experience I’ve had in this crummy town. Maybe that’s why I feel better.
She walked around to the pump, opened her tank, and put gas in her car just as the guy she had met here last time had instructed her to. Michael. She found herself smiling as she thought about him. He’d been a pretty nice guy. A little insulting at first, yes, but nice.
As she was holding the unleaded pump in the tank, she found herself peering inside to see if he was working. She couldn’t see anything through the dirty windows.
Don’t be stupid, she told herself, taking the pump out when it was full. He wouldn’t even remember you. It doesn’t even matter.
She placed the pump back in its holder, closed her gas tank, and tossed the receipt in the trash. Time to head home now, Maria, she reminded herself as she looked back through the dirty windows again. Home, where you wanted to go. Songwriting, remember? Songwriting, Maria.
Even as she thought these things, though, she found herself making her way toward the building. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to see if Michael was inside again. If he was, she’d stop and say hi to him and remind him how he’d witnessed one of her many great humiliations. If he wasn’t, then he just wasn’t. There was no harm in looking.
She stepped inside, trying to act casual. The first thing she saw was him. He was standing at the counter being pestered by three obnoxious boys who seemed to want to know everything about the gas station.
“How long has this establishment been here?” one asked him.
“Is it true that it used to be a bomb shelter?” another inquired.
“How old do you have to be to get a job here?”
“I don’t know,” Michael kept telling them. He was obviously aggravated. “Leave me alone, will you?”
Maria smiled. So he was a nice guy, but he didn’t have child-skills. It happened.
She made her way past the kids and into the chips and dip aisle, wondering if she had caught his eye. The last time she had come here, he had given her lots of looks: disbelieving looks, humorous looks, friendly looks. All of them were genuine, unlike nasty Kyle. She hoped Michael was looking now.
Once the boys finally left, Maria tried to seem completely interested in the snack food set out in front of her. She could feel his eyes on her now as she waited for him to say something.
“Don’t go with the jalapeńos,” he said at last.
She turned to face him, pretending she hadn’t seen him there. “Why not?” she asked him.
“Too spicy,” he told her. “I tried ‘em one time.”
“And you didn’t like them?”
“No, I did,” he said. “Freakin’ burnt my tongue, though.”
Now it was her turn to look at him in disbelief. “Your tongue? Potato chips burnt your tongue?”
“Jalapeńo potato chips.”
She glanced down at the chips, wondering if he could sense she had never intended to buy them in the first place. “Got it,” she said, walking toward him. “Ix-nay on the . . . I don’t know Pig Latin.”
“Ips-chay,” he filled in.
“Scholar,” she joked, leaning against the counter. “So I didn’t expect to see you in here again.”
“I didn’t expect to see you for the rest of my life.”
She gave him a confused look.
“I thought you’d be outta here by now,” he explained. “It’s obvious how much you hate it here.”
“I don’t hate it,” she said. “Well, technically I do.”
“I could tell from the moment you walked in here. You had that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“Oh, you know, the I’m-a-celebrity-get-me-out-of-here one.”
She laughed. “I’m not a celebrity.”
He shrugged. “Just a reference.”
“And a good one,” she complimented. “You know, I’m kind of shocked you noticed so much about me so fast.”
“Really?” He seemed surprised. “I’m sure other people notice.”
“Well, they notice my looks.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “Yeah, to be completely honest, I’ve noticed those, too.”
She blushed. There was something about him that made her like spending time around him.
“So what’ve you noticed about me?” he asked her. “Not that we’ve done much socializing or anything.”
“Right,” she said. “Well, in the ten minutes we spent together, I noticed you were hard-working, obviously.”
“Have to be.”
“And I’m thinking you’re one of those guys who has a low tolerance for, you know, dumb people.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s true. I gotta admit, when you told me you don’t know how to pump your own gas, I thought you were one of them.”
“I thought I was, too,” she admitted. “You know, this works out nicely, though. I hate idiots, too.”
He gave her a sympathetic look. “You’ve met a lot of ‘em so far, I bet. Haven’t you?”
“Yeah,” she said, looking down at the ground. “Whatever. I don’t really care.”
“Seems like you do,” he observed.
She shook her head. “I don’t. I mean, sometimes I do, but there’s more important things than fitting in, you know.”
“Preaching to the choir,” he told her. “It’ll get easier trust me. I’ve lived here all my life. I’ve seen the deal go down. Girl moves here, gets harassed by guys, rejected by girls, and gets depressed at first. Then she finds something or someone, and she flies off in a spaceship. Happy ending.”
“Very happy,” she agreed, “although I’m not getting the spaceship part.”
“Oh, come on, look where we live,” he said, gesturing to all the alien themed nonsense around them. “Look where I work. The Lift-Off gas station? What the hell’s that?”
She laughed.
He shrugged. “I had to throw something alien in there.”
“Are you always this talkative?” she asked him.
“Only when I wanna be. Why? Am I annoying you?”
She shook her head. “No. You’re refreshing me.”
“Refreshing?” he echoed, contemplating that. “Been called a lot of things in my day, but refreshing . . . that’s new.”
“I’m an adjective person,” she told him, “and as you can tell, a weird person.”
“Ah, me, too,” he said. “Now, not to change the subject here or anything, but I find myself wondering what you’re doing in here. You didn’t seem to be too into the jalapeńos, and you don’t seem to be in any big hurry. You come in here to chat or something?”
“Please,” she scoffed, trying to hide her embarrassment. “Like I would come in here just to talk to you.”
“Many girls do.”
“Well, not me.” She glanced down at the counter she was leaning on. “I just came in for some candy, some . . . M&Ms. Yeah. It just so happened you were in here. It’s a . . . coincidental thing.”
“I’ll take coincidence,” he said. He grinned as if he knew the real reason why she was in here. She hoped he didn’t.
He reached under the counter, grabbed a package of M&Ms, and set them down in front of her. “So you’re an M&Ms person, huh?”
She nodded, handing over two dollar bills. “Mmm-hmm. Nothing beats chocolate.”
“Oh, beg to differ,” he said. “Ice cream.” He smiled and pushed her money back at her. “On the house . . . the station.”
“Thanks,” she said, putting the bills back in her wallet.
“You know, my dad, he’s more of Skittles man,” he went on. “Crazy, isn’t it?”
“Oh, insane,” she agreed. “Skittles are sick!”
He chuckled, gazing right at her. She couldn’t help noticing what nice eyes he had. Deep, brown, warm . . . he was so different from every other guy she had encountered so far. At least she thought he was. She suddenly remembered Kyle and the way he had almost fooled her. What if that was what Michael was doing? He didn’t seem like the type, but . . .
“What?” he asked, noticing her sudden distress.
“Oh, nothing,” she said. “I just had a bad experience with a total loser today. Tell me, do you even remember my name?”
“Your name? Oh, man, what a stumper,” he said, sounding sarcastic. “Mariah?”
“Like Mariah Carey? Gross.”
He tried again. “Rianna.”
She shook her head. “Not even close.”
He stared at her with an intense look in his eyes and finally answered, “Maria DeLuca.”
She was surprised but not at all disappointed that he remembered her last name as well as her first name. He couldn’t be trying to play her. He was way too genuine.
“Photographic memory,” he said, “or something.”
She gazed at him, not wanting to look away. He seemed like a really great guy. She wanted to get to know him better, but she was beginning to think she had already stayed too long. She didn’t want to seem desperate, even though she was. She desperately needed a friend.
“Well, I better go now,” she announced. She grabbed the bag of M&Ms and was about to head out the door when she decided to mess with him a little bit. “Hey, what’s your name again?” she asked.
“Oh, come on, don’t pretend you don’t know.”
It baffled her that he could figure her out so easily when he hardly knew her. She started backing up toward the door, still trying to conceal the blush that was covering her cheeks. “Goodbye, Michael.” And she left the station feeling good.
PART 4
Jim was alarmed when Maria finally arrived home. Something was wrong. She was smiling.
“Hey, Dad,” she said, actually sounding enthusiastic.
“Where were you?” he questioned, suspecting something.
“I told you I was going out.”
“With whom?”
“With nobody.” She gave him a reassuring, sad look. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m still friendless.”
“Maria, I want you to have friends, just good ones.”
“Well, I have no friends,” she said again. “Well, no, maybe . . .” She looked away from him, deep in thought about something, and then she snapped out of it. “No friends,” she said. “Better luck next move, I guess.”
“There might not have to be a next move,” he told her. As long as Maria didn’t fall into the wrong crowd or into a male’s arms, they would stay in Roswell. Jim smiled at the thought. This really was the perfect place for them. Maria had nothing to think about here but school and her own misery, and as much as he hated for her to be miserable, he could handle it if it kept her out of romantic situations.
“You mean I might be stuck here?” She didn’t seem quite as upset about that as she had before. “Whatever.” She shook her head and started up the stairs to her bedroom. She passed her mother on the way and chirped, “Hey, Mom!”
“Hi, honey,” Amy returned. She came down the stairs with a surprised look on her face. “Wow,” she said. “She actually sounded happy.”
“I know,” Jim said. “I was worried at first. I thought she’d met somebody. I think she’s starting to like the town, though. That’s just what we need. She can be friends with the town itself but not the people in it.”
A skeptical look crossed Amy’s face.
“What is it?” he asked her. “You’re not having doubts, are you?”
“About what?”
“Our parenting.”
She shook her head. “No, not at all. I just . . . well, I don’t see the harm in letting her have a few friends. I think that would be fine.”
He wasn’t used to her disagreeing with him. “Oh, really,” he said. “Is that what you think?”
She stepped away, seeming frightened suddenly, and immediately changed her tune. “I’m sorry, Jim,” she apologized. “I don’t know what got into me. I didn’t mean that. You’re right. Friends with the town but not the people in it.”
“Good,” he said, reaching out and holding her hand. He pulled her to him, pleased with her. A good wife was an obedient wife. “Come here,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her and held her tight. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said. “Jim, I really am sorry for disagreeing with you there.”
“Forget about it,” he told her. “I have.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When Michael got off work and walked outside Sunday afternoon, he found Isabel and Alex sitting outside the station waiting for him. Alex looked up when he saw him and smiled. “Hey, man.”
“Hey,” Michael said. “What’re you guys doing here?”
“Coming to see you like we always do,” Alex said. “What’s it look like?”
“You don’t usually wait outside.” Michael sat down on the other side of Isabel, waiting for an explanation.
“Your manager kicked us out,” Isabel told him. “He said we were loitering. Can you believe that? Alex and I are not loiterers.”
“Yeah, and then he gave us this whole lecture about how sinners like us should be in church on Sunday,” Alex added. “If that’s the case, why the hell’s he here?”
“Beats me,” Michael said, glancing up at the sky. He felt free . . . for a little while. He was off work until Tuesday.
“Summer’s so boring,” Isabel complained. “What’re we gonna do tonight?”
“Well, the park’s toasted, so that eliminates the swings,” Alex joked. “Can you believe the city’s not even filing a lawsuit?”
“It’s bogus,” Michael agreed. “Oh, hey, by the way, I got tomorrow off, so we can hang.”
“So what’re we gonna do?” Isabel asked again. “We could go see that new movie tonight, I guess.”
“What new movie?” Michael and Alex both asked in unison.
“That romance one,” Isabel said. She looked back and forth between them expectantly. “You guys know what I’m talking about?”
Michael shook his head. “Not a clue.”
Isabel turned to her boyfriend. “Alex?”
Alex Whitman, being the brave soul that he was, swallowed the lump in his throat and choked out, “I think I do. Is it the one with the blonde girl?”
“Yeah, Kate Hudson.”
“Kate Hudson, okay,” Alex processed aloud. “And what’s it rated?” His voice trembled as he spoke.
Isabel shrugged. “I don’t know. Just like PG or something.”
Alex cried out. “Oh! That means there won’t even be sex scenes!”
Michael laughed. Isabel just rolled her eyes.
“I’ll do it!” he announced valiantly. “I’ll go see it with you, Isabel.”
“Oh, yea, Alex!” Isabel clapped her hands and hugged him tightly before planting a big one on his cheek. “You’re the best!”
“Uh-huh,” he agreed. He seemed to be in a stupor as the realization of what his evening plans were now hit him. Michael knew that stupor well. Any time he went out with any girl and saw any dumb romance movie, he thought about faking his own death to get out of it.
“What about you, Michael?” Isabel asked. “You wanna come?”
Michael had gone to the movies with Isabel and Alex before. It wasn’t pretty. There was this whole third wheel effect. Somehow, he always ended up relaying the whole movie to his friends on account of their making out and missing the entire thing.
“Uh, no, that’s alright. You guys go,” he told them. “I got some stuff to do.”
“Ooh, photography!” Alex exclaimed. “Pictures to take, fun to have!”
“I’m still workin’ on that night shot,” Michael said more to himself than to them. “Well, you guys have fun, okay?” He was about to get up and head to his car when he saw a gold vehicle pull up in front of the pump. He froze in place, wondering if this was Maria DeLuca.
A middle-aged man stepped out of the car. Michael couldn’t hide his disappointment. Even his friends noticed.
“Well,” Alex said, “I’m not sure who you were looking for, but I’m guessing that guy’s not it.”
“I wasn’t looking for anyone,” Michael denied too quickly.
“You so were,” Isabel jumped in. “Who?”
“No one,” he said.
The looks on his friends faces said it all: they weren’t buying it.
“Okay, maybe someone,” he admitted. “Just a girl.”
“Just a girl?” Alex didn’t seem convinced. “If she’s just a girl, how come you’re so upset she’s not here?”
“I’m not upset.”
“But you’re let-down.”
“Maybe a little,” he conceded. “She drives a freakin’ awesome Benz. She’s a pretty girl. I wouldn’t mind seeing her again. No one would.”
“Alex would,” Isabel said. “He only wants to look at me.”
“Now, now, let’s not assume.”
Isabel’s mouth dropped open and she gasped a mortified gasp.
“Kidding,” Alex said. “Ooh, fun!”
Isabel rolled her eyes, obviously not worried and returned her attention to Michael. “So where did you get to know this pretty girl?”
“Ironically,” he replied, “here.”
“As in gas station here?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I don’t really know her, though. I’ve just talked to her a few times. Just twice.”
Alex smirked. “And she’s left a mark. I can tell.”
“She hasn’t,” Michael said. “Just ‘cause my eyes wanna see her . . . you’re confusing my heart with my eyes, man.”
“I’m still trying to picture you meeting her here,” Isabel said. “It must have been so romantic what with all the smelly gas and dirty cement.”
“I just helped her out,” Michael said. “It was nothing.”
“Helped her out with what?” Alex inquired curiously.
Michael sighed. “She didn’t know how to fill her gas tank.”
Isabel and Alex both burst out laughing. Like him, they had a lower tolerance for stupid people. But Maria wasn’t really stupid. At least he didn’t think she was. She was just disoriented.
“Wow,” Isabel said. “So this pretty girl’s one of those itty-bitty brain girls, huh?”
“No,” he said. “She just moved here. Back where she came from they had a gas station where people pumped gas for the customers or something. Old-fashioned, you know?”
“Look at that,” Alex observed. “Jumping to her defense. Mikey’s got it bad.”
“Got what?” he asked. He honestly didn’t know what they were talking about. Sure, Maria was nice to talk to and nice to look at, but that didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean he had a crush on her. It sure as hell didn’t mean he had it bad.
“You could be in love,” Alex said. “We should celebrate.”
“Dude, I don’t even know her!”
“But you could be in love,” Alex insisted.
“But I’m not!”
“But you could be!”
“But I’m---”
“Stop!” Isabel interjected at last. “This is getting us nowhere. Alex, we have to trust Michael on this. We have to trust that he understands his own feelings.”
“I don’t feel anything for her,” he insisted. “Look, guys, I just think she’s interesting. That’s all.”
“Interesting,” Alex said, pretending to take notes on his hand. “You hear that, Isabel? Interesting.”
“That means nothing,” Isabel said, obviously crossing over to Michael’s side. “I think my dad’s interesting, but that doesn’t mean I’m in love with him.”
“Thank God,” Alex said. “Okay, just one more question, Guerin: This girl, the Benz girl . . . does she have a hot bod?”
Isabel slapped him on the shoulder. “Alex!”
“What? Baby, you know you’re the only one for me! I’m just curious here!”
“Uh, I don’t know,” Michael lied. “I didn’t look.”
“Didn’t look?” Alex echoed in disbelief. “What kind of guy doesn’t look?”
“Couldn’t,” he amended. “She was on the other side of the counter.”
“Liar, liar,” Isabel muttered. “I’m not siding with Alex or anything. It’s just . . . well, lying’s a violation of the ninth commandment. See? I don’t need to go to church. Tell that to your manager.”
“Fine,” Michael gave in. “Maria’s . . . ah, she’s got all the body she’ll ever need.”
“So she wasn’t just at the counter,” Alex concluded. “So she’s curvy. So her name’s Maria.”
“So I’m outta here,” Michael announced, starting to stand up.
Isabel reached up and grabbed his arm before he could go, pulling him back down to sit. “Listen, Michael, I know you don’t have feelings for her. You’ve made that clear. But if you ever do, you don’t have to worry.” She smiled. “Right Alex? No girl can resist our Michael.” She thought about it and then added, “Except me.”
“Hallelujah!” Alex exclaimed in a sing-song voice. “Hey, sorry for pestering you, man. You have a fun time with your camera tonight.”
Michael cringed. “Dude, you know that makes it sound---”
“Wrong, yeah,” Alex agreed. “Sometimes our minds just get lost in interpretation.”
“Right,” Michael said. “I’ll see you guys later.” He stood up, brushing off his jeans. “Oh, have fun at the movie tonight.”
A look of horror crossed Alex’s face at the mention of the movie, and he groaned in agony. “Oh, great.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Maria, what kind of music is this?” Amy asked, obviously irritated as Maria drove home that night. “Or is it even music at all?”
“Hawthorne Heights,” Maria told her. “They’re only my favorite musicians ever.”
“Really?” Her mother seemed to have been unaware of this. “Well, that’s too bad. I already bought you some Simpson CD for Christmas.”
“What? Simpson? Are we talking TV show or girl?”
“Girl. Some girl,” Amy said. “Some blonde girl.”
“Jessica?”
“No.”
“Ashlee?”
“Yeah, Ashlee Simpson.”
Maria groaned. “The lip-syncher! Mom! You should know better!”
“Well, I didn’t even know you liked this Hawthorne garbage.”
“Garbage? Mom, hard-rock music constitutes fifty percent of my music collection!”
“And what’s the other fifty?”
“Soft-rock!” Maria didn’t understand how it was possible for her very own mother not to know this about her.
“I heard somewhere that little Ashlee’s a rocker.”
“Wannabee rocker!” Maria whined. “Whatever. Just take an interest next time.”
“Well, at least I have your Christmas present. You probably don’t even have mine.”
“No, I don’t,” Maria admitted, “on account of it being August.”
Amy sighed. “Just concentrate on your driving. The last thing we wanna do is damage the car.”
Maria looked away guiltily. “Already did.”
Amy gasped. “No!”
“Yeah, I backed into a trash-can. My bumper’s all funky now.”
Her mother shook her head. “Oh, Maria, your father will be so upset.”
“Not if he doesn’t know,” Maria said, trying to keep her eyes on the road. “New topic . . . how ‘bout that movie? Did you get it?”
“I was kind of . . . distracted.”
“Me, too. I couldn’t even see the screen half the time. That couple in front of us wouldn’t stop making out.”
“Rude people,” Amy agreed. “Let’s just get home and hope your dad doesn’t see this bumper. You should park in the garage.”
“Right.” Maria’s mind wasn’t on the car or the movie now. Something had caught her eye. Off in the distance in a forested area, there was some kind of flashing light. It was bright and sudden, and it had her wondering. What was that?
“Mom, what is that?” she asked aloud, slowing down as they began to pass it. “See that light? What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Amy said. “Flashlight.”
Weird flashlight, Maria thought, slowing the car down almost to a standstill. She kept her eyes concentrated on the forest and thought about taking the little gravel path down there and seeing what it was, but she decided not to with her mother in the car. Maybe someday she would when she had nothing better to do. Chances were someday would come soon, too, since she was living the most boring summer vacation ever.
“Maria, watch out!” Amy shouted.
Maria slammed on the brakes as fast as she could, but not soon enough to avoid running over a squirrel. She heard a loud popping sound and then smelt a horrible stench. She looked at her mother as innocently as she could. “Oops.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He saw an opportunity for a masterpiece photograph. He took it.
“Damn,” Michael cursed when his camera flashed. “Bright.” He looked around the forest, discouraged. This wasn’t going to be a masterful night. It was too dark, and the flash was too bright, far too bright. He was sure he would get all the pictures developed within a few days only to see what complete crap they were.
He had been trying to capture an amazing nighttime photograph for so long now. He didn’t understand why he could never take one he liked. He had come close sometimes, but something just wasn’t right. All his photos were beginning to look the same. Dark, dreary, and kind of depressing. He didn’t want to be that kind of photographer.
He scoffed at his own thoughts and sat down against a big oak tree. You’re not even a photographer, he thought. No one sees these stupid pictures. No one really even cares.
He contemplated giving up for a few seconds. He always did when things started to suck like this. Every time he went out at night to take a great picture and only ended up with mediocre ones, he thought about throwing in the towel. But he never did, because taking pictures was his life’s passion, and passion never really disappeared.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria headed out into the garage the next morning before she’d even eaten breakfast. She wanted to clean off the remnants of the unlucky squirrel before eating food; that way, she wouldn’t have to worry about the food coming back up. Not throwing up was always a good thing.
She sulked out into the garage, making sure to avoid all contact with her mother. Amy had seemed especially exasperated with her after she had run over the squirrel. Lately, she was being even more mom-like than she usual. Maria suspected she was going through early menopause or some other gross feminine thing.
When she looked at the front of her car, she grimaced. She had expected that the tires would need tidying up. She hadn’t thought about the front of the car, though. There was some gut-like thing circling the Benz’s logo mount. Gross, she thought disgustedly. That was, like, a super squirrel or something. I’ve gotta start driving better.
Reluctantly, she headed back into the house to get some gloves, old rags she planned on tossing after the clean-up, a trash can, and a bucketful of soap and water. She still made sure to keep away from her mother and hurried back out into the garage before Amy even noticed she was inside.
She had just shut the door and was about to breathe a sigh of relief when she noticed her father standing next to the car, his arms crossed sternly over his chest. The stern look on his face made it clear that he wasn’t happy.
“Hey, Dad,” she greeted, hoping he somehow hadn’t noticed the animal remains and beat-up bumper. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were at work.”
“I have the day off,” he replied smugly. “The question is, what are you doing here?”
“Me?” she echoed innocently. “Well . . . carwash, obviously!” She held up the bucket and the rags. “Yeah! I wanna look cool when I roll into the parking lot at school.” And what a load of crap that was.
“Is that so?” He didn’t seem to believe her. “Well, that splotch of roadkill on the front should be a straight ticket to all the popularity in the world.”
She frowned, knowing already that this wasn’t going to end well.
“And that sorry excuse for a bumper on the back . . .” he added. “It doesn’t get much better than that.”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “If only my driver’s ed instructor had actually taught me something.” She refrained from mumbling ‘if only you had taught me something’ under her breath.
“You’re irresponsible and careless, Maria,” he told her bluntly. “That’s why we had to move.”
She rolled her eyes. “Nice excuse, Dad.”
“It’s not an excuse.”
“Of course it is.” She had to fight to keep from shouting. “We only moved ‘cause you couldn’t handle it. Guess what? I could’ve. I could’ve handled it all just fine. Dating, kissing, possibly even falling in love . . . I could’ve done it. It’s you, though. You’re the problem. I bring home one guy, one harmless guy who’s just this good friend, and you go postal. And of course when you go postal, Mom follows like an obedient dog.”
“A good wife is an---”
“Obedient wife, I know,” she filled in. “That’s so wrong. You treat Mom like she’s your slave, like you’re older and wiser and superior to her; and you’re not.”
“Don’t you dare say such things!” he roared. “I love your mother!”
“Right, and you want me to grow up and marry somebody just like you, somebody you consider to be perfect. Have you ever considered the distinct possibility that I want something else? You don’t even listen to me, Dad. Okay, so I may be a bad driver, but I’m not irresponsible. I’m not careless. I’m your daughter, but I won’t bow down to you.”
He glared at her. There was always so much hostility in his eyes. She didn’t understand why he had to be like this. He wasn’t God, so why did he act as though he were?
“Clean off the car and go run it through the wash,” he commanded.
“The wash?” she resounded. “It’s not clothing, Dad. It won’t fit in the dryer.”
“The carwash,” he clarified. “Looks like we’ll have to work on your IQ, too.”
“Right,” she said. “UCLA. Smart kid central. Can’t wait for that.”
He started for the door. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” she lied. “Fine, I’ll clean up the car. I’ll even pay for the bumper if you want me to. I don’t care.”
“How can you pay without money?” he retorted. “Looks like you’ll have to rely on me once again.”
She hated relying on him so much. She had considered getting a job herself once in order to be out from under his control, but that hadn’t worked out. She wasn’t so much of a working girl.
He pushed past her and stepped into the house. “Be done in thirty minutes.”
“Thirty minutes?” she shrieked. “That’s not fair! I have to clean this off, go get dressed, head out to the freaking carwash, and get back in thirty minutes? Be realistic, Dad.”
He chuckled. “Better start now.”
She slouched and watched him stride back into the house, hating that he always got his way.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I’m a businessman, as you know, and I have a business proposition for you.”
Michael handed a woman her change and glanced back at Alex. “What movie’s that from?”
Alex thought about it. “Uh, I don’t know, the one about the boat.”
“Titanic.”
Alex nodded. “Uh-huh, that one. Okay, so I propose that you and I and Isabel go to a party tonight.”
“Oh, something new and different for us,” Michael said sarcastically.
“Oh, come on, you make it sound like we’re partying all the time. Let me remind you that the last party we went to was the one at the park.”
Michael cringed, remembering. “Yeah, they’re still scraping charcoal of the sidewalks from that one.”
“Okay, so that was a bad party experience,” Alex admitted. “Smoke inhalation, plus you had to deal with the Lizard.” ‘The Lizard’ was Alex’s not-so-secret nickname for Liz. “Nobody likes that. But dude, there’s gonna be a good one tonight, and I think we should go. Or I don’t know, maybe you’d rather do that clickity-click thing with your camera.”
Michael gave him a look.
“What?” Alex feigned innocence. “I try to understand. I just don’t understand.”
“A+ for effort,” Michael told him. “Get real here, man. Why do you really wanna go to this party so bad?”
Alex sighed, giving in to admission. “It’s Isabel. She wants to go see another romance movie.”
Michael chuckled. “I thought you secretly loved ‘seeing’ movies with Isabel.”
“I do.” Alex smiled fondly. “I really do. It’s like, when we make out, it’s so good. It’s like everything else just disappears. Last time was really nice. You know what they say: poppy cock, sloppy cock.” Alex chuckled.
Michael looked at him in horror, knowing he was referring to a hand-job. “Oh, man. I’m gonna have to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“But the thing is,” Alex continued, “Isabel won’t make out with me or . . . do other things with me if she’s really invested in the movie, and I’ve seen her watching previews for this movie. She’s got ‘em on tape. On tape, Michael, on tape! She rewinds, and she watches, and its like she’s in this trance, or this other world or something. Dude, she’s been counting down the freaking days ‘til this movie came out in theaters. I promised her I’d go.”
“Then you should go.”
“But I don’t want to. Party equals better, see? Now, Isabel told me she’d be willing to forgo the movie another night if you come to the party with us.”
“Me?” Michael didn’t understand why that would influence her.
“She says she only parties trifecta style.”
“Trifecta?” Michael echoed. “Is that what we’re called?”
“Sure,” Alex said. “Listen, man, we’re both kinda missing hangin’ out with you, to be quite honest. You’ve been working a lot pretty much all summer.”
“Temporary gig,” Michael put in.
“Yeah, temporary, I know, but . . . whatever, man. It’s your decision. You can come celebrate with your friends or you can go take pictures with your camera. You choose.”
“I’ll go the party,” he answered without hesitation.
“What?” Alex seemed surprised. “Really? Wait, who are you, and what have you done with Michael Guerin?”
Michael sighed, leaning back against the shelves. “I don’t know. All the pictures I take are looking like crap lately. And last night I totally fucked it up with this flash and . . . it’s just not going so well.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Alex said apologetically. “That sucks, man.”
“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “So I guess I could use a party.”
“Dude, you are like my savior right now,” Alex told him, all at once ecstatic. “I could . . . oh, I could get on my knees and praise you!”
“Don’t,” Michael told him when he saw that he was serious.
Alex didn’t let up. “Is your name Michael Jesus Guerin? ‘Cause I think it is.”
Michael looked away. “Wow, how did I befriend such a geek?”
“You really have no idea how good this is,” Alex said. “I just couldn’t sit through another remake of Romeo and Juliet.”
“Oh, those are the worst,” Michael agreed. “So where is this thing tonight?”
“Oh, someone’s house,” Alex said. “I’ll get directions. Right now I gotta pee like a racehorse.” All of a sudden, he was sprinting off toward the back in the direction of the bathroom.
Michael pulled a stool up next to the counter and leaned over, pressing his elbows against the counter. This had been a long day. He felt like he had been there for three days straight, but it had only been three hours so far. It didn’t get much worse than this.
And then suddenly, it got better. He was staring dazedly outside when he saw a fancy gold car pull up in front of the building. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but . . .
He couldn’t help smiling a little when Maria stepped out of the car. She looked good. She was wearing some extremely short shorts. She looked damn good.
She stepped into the store and pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. She smiled when she saw him. “Hi, Michael.”
“Hey, Maria DeLuca,” he returned.
She blushed a little and made her way over to the counter. “You never told me your last name.”
“Ah, you’ll figure it out,” he told her, not wanting to give too much away.
She giggled.
“So what’re you doing here?” The minute he asked that question, he felt stupid. This was a gas station after all. “Wow, you couldn’t possibly be getting gas, could you?”
“Actually, I’m not,” she said. “I’m just kinda swinging by.”
“Swinging by?” He didn’t get it. “To talk to me?”
She grunted. “No. What makes you think that?”
He shrugged. “Assumption.”
“Wrong assumption,” she said emphatically. “I’m just . . . I’m just swinging by.”
“Right,” he said, not believing her, “to breathe in the therapeutic aroma of diesel fuel.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh my god.”
“If you’re here to talk to me, just admit it.”
“I’m just swinging by,” she said for the third time. “That’s all.”
“Well, at least buy something if you’re gonna loiter.”
“Loiter?” She pretended to be offended. “Maybe I’ll just leave.”
“No, don’t do that.”
She seemed happy to hear him say that. “Don’t?”
“Buy something,” he insisted. “Use that pretty credit card you got.”
“Okay,” she decided. “I’ll buy . . .” She turned around and grabbed a bag of jalapeńo chips. “I’ll buy these.”
“I told you not to get those,” he reminded her.
She laid the chips on the counter, ignoring his warning. “Just because you’re a baby and you burnt your tongue . . .”
“Feisty,” he remarked.
She shrugged. “I like it hot.” A mortified expression flooded her face once the words had left her mouth.
He started laughing. She was a crazy girl. His favorite kind.
A comfortable silence descended upon them as he rang up the chips for her. She was just handing over some cash when Alex spoke from the bathroom. “Oh, yeah, I needed to do this! Yowza!”
A disgusted look crossed Maria’s face. “Who was that?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” he lied, handing over her change. “Probably some nerd.”
“Probably,” she agreed. She took the chips from the counter and held them against her chest, looking at him expectantly. “So . . .”
“So, I’m wondering,” he said, “if you didn’t come here to talk to me, and you didn’t really come here to buy those flaming chips, why are you ‘just swinging by?’”
She looked down at the ground and mumbled her reply. “My dad.”
He hoped he hadn’t struck a nerve. That hadn’t been his intention. Even though he knew he should let it go, he kept asking. “What about your dad?” He wanted to slap himself for being so nosy, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to know things about this girl.
“Oh, he’s in that all-powerful dictator mood,” she said. “He is a lot.”
“Oh, that sucks.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “It started this morning. See, I’m not the best driver in the world . . .”
“But you drive the best car.” He grinned.
“Yeah, okay. Good car, bad driver. You see the conflict here?”
“I think so,” he said, peering out at the Benz. “Oh, yeah. What the hell did you do to your bumper?”
“Bumped into something,” she said, stating the obvious. “I thought it was a trash can, but now I’m starting to think it was a tree.”
“Oh, it was a tree,” he told her, surveying the damage. “Yeah, I can kinda see why your dad’s pissed.”
“I guess I can, too,” she said. “Anyway, I better go now. He doesn’t know I’m gone, and he has this tendency to lose his mind when he doesn’t know where I am.”
“Alright, I’ll see you,” he told her, not wanting this conversation to end. It was too soon. He wanted more time with her. She made the day more bearable.
She started for the door, seeming as hesitant as he was.
“Hey,” he called, stopping her in her tracks. “Don’t you have that school thing tomorrow?”
She turned around and eyed him curiously. “That school thing?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, don’t classes start up tomorrow or something?” He shrugged. “That’s what I heard.”
“Yep,” she said. “Classes start up. For me, anyway.” She sighed. “Ah, the beauty of calculus.”
“Calculus?” he echoed.
She nodded, walking toward him again. “Yeah. Did you take it in high school? Was it hard?”
“Uh . . .” He didn’t know what to say. “I’m dumb.”
She tilted her head to the side and looked right at him. “You’re not dumb.”
He smiled. “Ah, you’re right I’m not. I’m actually pretty god-damned smart. I just don’t apply myself. At least that’s what my therapist says.”
Her eyes widened when he said that. “You have a therapist?”
“No, not anymore. I’m all better now.”
She raised one eyebrow, considering it. “You’re kidding, right?”
He laughed. “Yeah, I’m kidding. Therapist free for my whole life now.”
She laughed along with him. “Yeah, me, too. Good for us.”
“Good for us,” he agreed.
She stopped laughing and sighed again, backing up slowly toward the door. “I really have to go now.”
“Right,” he said. “I’ll see you around, okay?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Around.” She turned around then, and made her way back outside to the Benz, still rocking those minuscule shorts. Pretty girl, Michael thought for the hundredth time. Funny girl. Smart girl. No wonder she had made the day better. She was a nice girl.
Alex came out from the bathroom just as Maria was driving away. “Man, that was massive,” he announced with no embarrassment. “So what happened? What went on? What did I miss?”
Michael gave him a look, not saying anything at all.
Alex got the message loud and clear. The Benz girl had made an appearance. Alex looked devastated. “No . . .”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria tip-toed in the house, hoping beyond hope that no one would hear her. There was always hell to pay when she left without telling her parents where she was going.
She shut the door quietly, barely registering that her mother was sitting on the stairs waiting for her. Don’t act guilty, she told herself. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were only gone for a few minutes, anyway.
“Hey, Mom,” she said, forcing a smile.
“Where were you?” Amy asked, getting straight to the point.
“Out,” she replied ambiguously.
“Well, okay,” Amy said, although Maria knew it wasn’t going to be this easy. Her mother stood up and walked around her skeptically. “Who were you with?”
“No one.”
“Are you sneaking around with a boy, Maria?”
She couldn’t hide her exasperation. “What? Sneaking around? No. No, I’m so not. I’d never do that, Mom, although I’m tempted sometimes, trust me.”
“Because sneaking around could get you into a lot of trouble with you father,” Amy reminded her, “and me. And your father. Did I say your father?”
Maria rolled here eyes. “You two are ridiculous. You guys give me absolutely no privacy.”
“Because privacy leads to pregnancy. That’s what your dad says.”
“God, Mom, if you had one original thought, your head would probably explode.”
Amy didn’t say anything in response to that. She just hung her head with a look of hurt in her eyes.
Maria immediately regretted her harsh words. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean that. Look, I’m not sneaking around, okay? Seriously, who in Roswell would I sneak around with?”
Amy shrugged. “I don’t know. Awhile back you said you met some good-looking guy at the gas station. You said he wasn’t completely horrible or something along those lines. I don’t know. It makes me nervous.”
I should’ve never mentioned Michael, she thought, wondering why she had in the first place. Now my mom’s gonna be all paranoid, and dad will catch on. He always does. Except there’s nothing to catch on to. I don’t even know Michael. I don’t even know his last name. God!
“You know what?” Maria said, deciding to come clean. “He’s not horrible at all. I talked to him.”
“Today?”
She nodded. “I just swung by, and he was there. But it’s not even something you have to get nervous about, so if Dad finds out, tell him not to lose his shirt. Michael’s just a guy I talk to now and then, but he’s not even in high school. He’s probably, like, way older than me, okay?”
Amy shook her head. “Older men are always a problem . That’s what your father says.”
“Of course,” Maria muttered. She would never understand how her mom could be so compliant. “Listen, I talked to him a little bit, but it’s nothing. He’s just . . . I don’t know. I think he’s a good guy.”
Suddenly, a booming voice sounded from the top of the stairwell. “A good what?”
Maria spun around and faced her father. He looked steadfast and calculating, just like he always did. She so did not want to deal with him right now, so she blurted out the first—and probably lamest—thing that came to mind. “A good buy. A good buy at the . . . grocery store.” She forced a smile. “Two pineapples for the price of one.”
“Wow.” Jim’s face was a blank slate, showing no indication of whether he believed her or not. “What a bargain.”
“Yeah.” Maria glanced at her mother, gave her a look to remind her not to say anything, and pushed past her father upstairs, hoping he hadn’t figured out what she’d really said. But she knew he would. He always did.
Michael was beginning to regret his decision to go along with Alex and Izzy to the party. It had been nothing short of awful so far. The house was small, so everyone was cramped inside like sardines. The music playing was complete crap, so there was no enjoyment there. Worst of all, though, Liz wouldn’t leave him alone. She had been following him around the entire night, talking his ear off and trying to seduce him again. When was she going to understand it wasn’t going to work anymore?
Just when he thought he’d lost her, she found him again. She smirked, pushed her way through “lesser people,”—that’s what she would call them—and sat down beside him on the couch. “There you are,” she said. “Why did you run away from me?”
“Gee, I don’t know,” he muttered. “Annoyance?”
She giggled, obviously not listening to what he was saying. “Oh, I love this song! Don’t you?”
He gave her an uncaring look. “No.”
“You don’t?”
“I hate it.”
She grunted. “Well, just ‘cause it’s not that Metallica crap . . .”
Now it was his turn to ignore her as he scanned the room for Isabel and Alex. They had disappeared near the start of the party. They were probably already upstairs by now.
“Are you even listening to me?” Liz asked him finally. “God, Michael, I give you all the attention in the world, and you pretend like I’m vapor.”
“Well, I can dream.”
She slapped his shoulder. “Jerk!”
“If I’m such a jerk, why do you keep bothering me?”
She thought about it and smiled slyly. “Well, you’re a hot jerk.”
Michael was about to get off the couch and try to ditch her again when Courtney Banks came and sat down on the coffee table in front of him. She spread her legs wide open purposefully so that he could see the nothing she was wearing underneath her skirt. Courtney was quite possibly the dumbest girl in all of Roswell. She had a slut/party-girl reputation, too, but it hadn’t always been that way. Michael knew he was to blame for that.
A few years back, he had lured her into his bedroom with one intention, and they had fucked all night long. Before that night, she had been an A plus student, an avid church-goer, and, most notably, a virgin. She changed after that, though. Even after their two-week stint of a relationship had ended, she kept going down the path of ruin. Drugs, drinking, more and more sex . . . it just wasn’t good. Michael felt sick to his stomach every time he saw her.
“Hey, sexy,” she said. “Is Liz bothering you?”
“Yeah.”
“Just tell her to go away.” Courtney tried to reach out for his cock. “We need our alone time.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled it away. “I haven’t needed that for a long time.”
She pouted. “But it’s good. I haven’t forgotten.”
“Me, neither.” That much was true. Sex with Courtney had been good. The same held true with Liz. For two months, he had dated Liz, and for two months, they had slept together almost every night. He had no complaints in the physicality department; it just wasn’t what he wanted anymore.
“Courtney, leave,” Liz ordered. “Can’t you see that Michael and I are in the middle of a very intelligent conversation?”
Courtney spread her legs apart again. “Oh, come on, Michael.”
“Aren’t you dating, Billy?”
She smiled. “Three years now. He’s outta town.”
The girl had lost everything. She was a complete waste now.
“Go away,” Liz said again, scooting closer to Michael. “And close your legs. You’re losing friends, and you don’t have any to spare.”
Courtney grunted. “You’re mean.”
“You’re slutty,” Liz retorted.
“Look who’s talking,” Michael mumbled under his breath. These two were exhausting.
“I’m not a slut,” Liz insisted. “Just for you, baby. That’s all.” She toyed with the buttons of his shirt.
“Stop,” he said, sliding away from her. They were so desperate, so freaking desperate. Couldn’t they see he didn’t want them? Couldn’t they see he wanted to be more than the guy in the bed?
“Where’s your camera, Michael?” Courtney asked out of nowhere.
“Didn’t bring it with me.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Oh, too bad. I wanted you to take a picture of this.” All of a sudden, she pulled her shirt up over her head and gave him a full-on view of her breasts. A bunch of other males at the party started cheering when she did that.
“Don’t even try it,” Liz said, tugging her shirt down for her. “Michael only likes my boobs.”
Idiots, he thought, scanning the room for Isabel and Alex again. He had to get out of here, but he wanted to let them know he was leaving.
“Michael and I had sex every night when we were going out,” Courtney said, “and we went out for two weeks. That’s, like, twenty days.”
“Fourteen, honey,” Liz corrected. “I went out with him for two months. That’s like . . . do the math.”
Courtney cringed. “Eww. Only weird girls do math.”
Michael chuckled, thinking of Maria. When Liz and Courtney both gave him strange looks, he told them, “Oh, didn’t you hear? Cool girls take calculus.”
A confused looked crossed Courtney’s face. “Calca-what?”
That was it. He couldn’t take it any more. He got up off the couch and headed for the crowd around the keg, hoping they wouldn’t follow him. He could hear Liz shouting at him to call her sometime, but when he looked back, he saw her still cat-fighting it out with Courtney. Good.
He looked all over for his friends, but he couldn’t find them anywhere. He asked people if they had seen them, but no one had.
He felt so alone.
When the feeling became too much, he reached for a full glass of beer and downed it hurriedly. Drinking never helped, but he really didn’t care at this point. He felt trapped, as though he were stuck in some kind of rut. It seemed as if he were always taking bad pictures or attending bad parties. One of the two. He wanted something else. He wanted something better. Most of all, he just didn’t want to end up like his dad.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She couldn’t believe it. She had been banking on this school, banking on the hopes that it would be big and nice, maybe even prestigious. Her dad had always sent her to good schools before. She had expected to be attending an exceptional educational facility her senior year. But this was Roswell, after all, and Roswell wasn’t home to anything exceptional.
She squeezed her Benz into a tight parking spot in the front row, shut the engine off, and stared ahead, completely dumbfounded. What did I do to deserve this? she wondered. Why’s Dad sending me here? There’s other schools in nearby towns. I wanna go to one of those. Not here. God, not here.
She grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car, hoping she would miraculously notice a large expansion of school she hadn’t seen before, but of course she didn’t. What she saw was all there was to see. Just a small school, just a shabby appearance. Just not Denver. Not Detroit. Not Chicago. Not anything worth something.
“Oh my god,” Maria choked out as she shut her door. “This is it.”
She stood there staring blankly ahead for a longer time than she had intended to. Several people passed by and gave her looks—sexual looks from guys, critical ones from girls.
“Look at that car,” one girl said. “Please tell me she’s not richer than I am.”
“It’s beat up around back,” another girl assured her. “You’re golden.”
Maria waited until they had passed by her, and then she started sulking toward the front entrance by herself. What a perfectly horrible day this was shaping up to be.
She wasn’t even aware that two guys were following close behind her until she heard them talking about her, too.
“Look at that chick,” one said quietly. “New girl.”
“Yeah.” The other one sounded just as intrigued. “I’d like to raise that dress up a few inches.”
Maria spun around and glared at them, wondering what made them think they had the right to talk about her that way. “I can hear you, you know,” she informed them.
They just laughed and walked on by. Even as they disappeared into the school building, though, she could feel their eyes on her. “Should’ve worn jeans,” she muttered. “Or pajamas. Anything but this.”
Just as she was standing there talking to herself, a tall, blonde girl traipsed by. She smiled and said, “I like your dress.” She didn’t sound like she was being fake.
Unused to hearing compliments from girls in this town, Maria wasn’t sure how to react. “Uh . . .” She stood like a dummy and watched as the girl walked on by. “Thanks.” Feeling more confident about her attire then, she followed her inside. She tried to keep track of her as she sashayed through the halls, but she lost her in the crowd. Too bad. Potential friend . . . gone.
Maria stood by herself, holding her books tightly to her chest as chaos swirled around her. There were some guys running around by the drinking fountain throwing paper airplanes, and the girls were all talking so loudly and so much that she couldn’t even hear herself think. The one nice thing about the chaos, though, was that no one noticed her, or if they did, she didn’t notice them. There was too much going on to take time out to think about one particular person, so she felt normal . . . at least for a little while.
Ten minutes later, everyone was called into the gymnasium. Maria didn’t know what was going on. If they expected her to get out on the court and play some basketball game to kick off the new school year, she was bolting out to the Benz.
Students filed onto the bleachers, waving and calling to their friends to come sit by them. It seemed as if all these cliques were reuniting, and Maria didn’t know which one she belonged in, or if she even belonged in one at all. She walked along the bleachers slowly, searching for someone to sit by, wishing there was somebody like Michael here. There didn’t appear to be anyone, though. Of course not.
She spied the tall, blonde girl again and was about to go sit by her when an equally tall, skinny guy appeared out of nowhere. He sat down next to her, wrapped his arms around her, and began kissing her before Maria had even taken a step. There was no way she was going to sit there now. Third-wheeling it was never fun.
She had no idea where to sit, so she went to the only group that would accept her, probably the only group that was feeling as alone as she was: the freshmen. They looked like freshmen, anyway. They were all crowded down onto the ends of the bleachers as though they were afraid of the upperclassmen. They looked young, rather immature, and scared out of their minds. She sat down in the front row by herself, trying not to make eye-contact with anyone. Be invisible, she thought. That’s the only way you’re gonna make it.
Once everyone was seated, a man in a suit, whom she presumed to be either the principal or superintendent, stepped up to a small podium set up on the court. He tapped the microphone a few times, and a horrible screech filled the air. Everyone covered their ears until it died down.
“Sorry,” the man apologized. “You can never predict how these microphones will work.” He chuckled lightly and then introduced himself. “Good morning, everyone. I’m Principal Forrester, and I’d like to welcome you all back to Roswell High.”
A few of the teachers clapped their hands, but the students just groaned and rolled their eyes.
“I know this is going to be a great school year,” Principal Forrester continued, obviously pretending to be enthused, “just as long as everyone follows the rules and does their part. Now I know you all hate this assembly, so I’ll try to make it quick, and then you can all get to class.”
“Screw class!” somebody shouted from the top row of the bleachers. All the other students started to laugh heartily. Maria didn’t. She didn’t see what was so funny about that. Were these people honestly so immature that they would find that idiot class clown so laugh-out-loud hilarious?
“We have a few new teachers we’d like to introduce to you, first of all,” the principal went on. “First we have Mr. Brown, the new photo journalism teacher.”
Mr. Brown stepped forward, waved to the students, and got a small amount of applause.
“Next we have Ms. Khencha, the new choir teacher.”
Ooh, choir, Maria thought, a little excited. I hope she’s nice.
A large African American woman stepped up next to Mr. Brown and belted out a greeting at the top of her lungs. “Hello!” she called in a sing-song voice. “Hello, hello, hello!” On the last hello, her voice made a horrendous squeaking sound, and everyone, including Principal Forrester grimaced.
Great, Maria thought, discouraged again now. She’s awful. Now I don’t even have choir to look forward to this year.
“Uh, thank you Ms. Khencha,” Principal Forrester recovered quickly. “Lastly we have Mr. Edmonds, our new P.E. teacher.”
It seemed as if all the guys in the gym rose to their feet in thundering applause when Mr. Edmonds stepped up. “P.E. rocks!” they all seemed to be shouting. “Yeah!”
Mr. Edmonds leaned in so he could speak into the microphone and said, “Wow, what a reception. I promise you guys, we’re going to have the best P.E. year ever. We’ll be doing lots of great stuff, especially everybody’s favorite: dodge ball!”
The boys roared in applause. The girls all began to freak out. “Dodge ball? No!” Maria even thought she saw a few of them crying. Wimps. She hated P.E. as much as the next female, but she knew the best way to get out of playing dodge ball was to dodge toward the ball and get hit on purpose. Bench-warmer was a lovely position to play.
Principal Forrester wrapped up his spiel a few minute later. He dismissed everyone to their first period class and told them to have a good day. Maria scoffed at that. A good day was not possible here.
She picked up her things and tried to ask some people where to go for calculus. The only people around her were freshmen, though, and they were as confused as she was. She took her schedule out from her binder, unfolded it, and read it over. Calculus. Mr. Jones. Room 114. Where the hell was room 114?
She decided to follow the crowd of smart-looking people and see where they ended up. She hoped they would take her to calculus, because being the new girl was embarrassing enough; being the new girl who couldn’t find her way around this oh-so-tiny school was another thing entirely.
She was on her way out of the gym when someone ran into her side, causing her to drop all her school supplies on the ground. The person didn’t even stop to help her pick everything up. “Fine, I’ll do it myself,” she muttered, bending down to retrieve all her things. People stepped all over her papers, pencils, and even her hands as she tried to gather everything together. They were literally walking all over her. She hated them for that. Why didn’t one of them stop to help her? Why were they all so indecent?
At last, someone did stop. “Here, let me help you,” he said, kneeling down beside her.
“Oh, thank you,” she said, not even looking at him. “I feel like I’m being trampled down---”
Before she could finish, she felt a hand slap her ass, and she heard laughing a second later. She looked up and saw that the guy who had stopped to “help” her was Kyle from the Crashdown Café. Jerk. She hoped he could see the anger in her eyes.
“Oh, Mary,” he said, misusing her name once again, “you look so hot when you’re pissed.”
She scooped all her things up in her arms and stood up, glaring at him. She wasn’t just pissed. She was furious. But he wasn’t even worth the time, so she turned her back on him and started heading back the way she had come. The minute she did that, though, somebody else bumped into her, and her supplies flew all over once again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria would never have made it to calculus class that day had it not been for Principal Forrester. She had asked him for help, and he had escorted her there as though she were an incompetent child. As much as she was grateful for his help, she hated it. He had spoken to her so slowly and so loudly as if he weren’t sure whether she understood him or not. She had wanted to tell him that she wasn’t like the other people here. She was capable, not a child. But she didn’t say a word.
She stepped into Mr. Jones’s room a few seconds before the bell, wondering why she was so disoriented. Her school in Denver had been ten times bigger than this, and she had found her way around easily. She had even made friends right away. Not life-long friends, granted, but friends for the time period. Why was it so difficult here? Why was she having such a hard time?
She glanced around the room and the people in it, wishing she would see something to be optimistic about. But she didn’t. Even these people, probably widely considered the nerdy people, had their cliques. She didn’t even fit in with them. How bad was it to be an outcast amongst the outcasts?
The worst aspect of this class, though, was the lack of single person desks. There were several tables arranged in front of the blackboard, tables that seated two people. Great, she thought as she surveyed the room. Now every time I sit down by myself, I’m gonna be reminded of how alone I am. This is just wonderful.
The bell rang, and everyone hurriedly took their seats. Maria sat down last in the middle of the room at a table by herself. One really was the loneliest number.
A man with a dark grey beard and mustache rushed into the room shortly after the bell rang. He had a stern look on his face, and the class immediately became silent when he entered. Maria was already getting the feeling that Mr. Jones was the nicest teacher of all time.
“Good morning,” he said in a deep voice, stepping up to the blackboard. “I’m Mr. Jones. This is calculus. Some of you might be thinking of me as your teacher, but you’ll soon come to think of me as your judge, jury, and executioner.”
Maria almost freaked out when he said that. Wasn’t it wrong for a teacher to talk about execution?
“We’re not going to be doing this talking thing for long,” he said, “so don’t get used to it. You will be receiving your first assignment today, so don’t expect to coast through first period. Ever. Does everybody understand?”
Understand what? Maria wondered. That you’re a cold-hearted bastard? Yeah, I’m getting that.
Mr. Jones head snapped toward the corner of the room, and he pointed to a boy in a black sweatshirt. “You,” he said. “Spit out that gum. No gum chewing. That’s one of the rules.” He pointed to a sign next to the blackboard that read: Jones’s Rules. Follow them.
Maria read rule number one. It said I don’t like gum. “That’s not a rule,” she muttered.
Mr. Jones seemed to hear her. “What was that?” he asked, looking directly at her. “Blonde girl, speak up.”
Blonde girl? She wanted to stand up to him and shout in outrage, but she knew that wasn’t the best move. “Um, that’s not a rule,” she choked out. “It’s just a . . . well, it’s a declaration.”
“A declaration?” he echoed.
“Yeah. If you had don’t chew gum up there, it’d be a rule, but this isn’t . . .”
“Use your common sense, blonde girl,” he told her, “assuming you have any.”
She looked down at the table, ignoring that comment. She didn’t care what he had to say. Not really. Maybe he knew how to do calculus, but at least she knew right from wrong. She knew it was wrong for teachers to belittle their students.
Just as Mr. Jones was getting started on the lesson, something else caught his attention. He looked toward the door and smiled almost wickedly. “Ah, Mr. Guerin. Better late than never.”
Maria didn’t even look up. She was too busy drawing random doodles on the table to even care who else was coming in.
“Better late,” a familiar voice agreed. She recognized this person immediately, and she turned to face him quickly. Michael. He was standing in the doorway with a pen in his hand. He glanced toward her, grinning slightly as if he enjoyed her shocked reaction to seeing him here.
She didn’t understand. What was Michael doing here? He didn’t go to high school. If he had, he would have told her . . . wouldn’t he? As she sat there staring at him in complete surprise, it occurred to her that he told her very little about himself.
He looked as if he were about to start laughing. Did he think this was funny?
“Take a seat so we can get started,” Mr. Jones told him. “Everybody take out a sheet of paper.”
Maria looked away from him as he made his way through the room toward her. She didn’t want to look at him. If she looked at him, she would probably start yelling at him. How could he not tell her he was in high school? That was worse than not telling her his last name.
He sat down beside her without even asking for her permission. He didn’t say hi. He just said, “Can I use a sheet of paper?”
“No.” Her reply was swift and strong, just the way she wanted it to be.
He laughed a little.
“This isn’t funny,” she told him, taking out one and only one sheet of paper for herself. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”
He laughed again. “Why not?”
“I just thought you were in college or something.”
“Oh, college,” he said. “I’ll never get there.”
“And being in school’s one thing,” she continued on. “Being in calculus . . . I thought you said you were dumb.”
“I thought you remembered I wasn’t.”
She rolled her eyes, still not looking at him. “You’re exasperating me, you know.”
“Save the big words for English,” he told her. “We’re mathematicians right now.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“You know I find it kind of odd that you’re telling me to shut up,” he said, “and just yesterday you swung by the Lift-Off to talk.”
“Well, I find it kind of odd that the guy who pumps my gas is sitting next to me in calculus right now.”
“I only pumped your gas once,” he reminded her.
“Right, and if you tell anybody about that, ever, I’ll never speak to you again.”
“Well, I can’t have that.”
Before Maria could say anything more, Mr. Jones cleared his throat loudly. “Blonde girl . . . Guerin. Could you two keep the flirting at a minimum? If you’re looking for a sex ed class, they have one up in Las Cruces a week from today.”
“Sex ed?” Maria shrieked. Mr. Jones gave her a warning glare, and she immediately quieted her tone. “I’ll be good.”
He smiled. His ugly mustache curled at the ends, and he started reviewing what he called algebra basics. Maria tried to pay attention, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Michael, to the fact that he was sitting next to her right now. When she couldn’t take it any longer, she turned to face him, speaking in a whisper. “Just tell me why you didn’t tell me,” she said. “I wanna know.”
“Why I didn’t tell I go to high school?” He shrugged. “Didn’t think it was important.”
“Oh my god.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you. How many times did I go into the station complaining because I don’t know anybody here and I don’t have any friends in this crappy town? How many times did I say school’s gonna suck?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Once or something.”
“Well, once should be enough for you to know not to keep me in the dark. Do you know how much better I would’ve felt today if I’d known you were gonna be here?”
“Oh, please stop,” he said. “You’re making me blush.”
“Just knowing there would be someone to talk to . . . it would’ve relieved so much stress, Michael. Michael Guerin.”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “There’s just a certain allure when it comes to the element of mystery.”
“Save it for English,” she mimicked. “So now that I know your last name and now that I know you’re in high school, what’re you gonna do? No more mystery.”
“Oh, there’s mystery,” he assured her. “So what am I gonna do? Hangin’ out with you’s coming to mind.”
“What makes you think I wanna hang out with you? Maybe I don’t wanna hang out with a liar.”
“I didn’t lie,” he countered. “Just kept the truth to myself.”
“Big difference.”
“There is,” he insisted. “You know, you could’ve just asked me.”
“Asked you?”
“Yeah, you could’ve said, ‘hey, Michael, are you in high school? If so are you a senior?’ Because I am a senior by the way.”
“Fantastic,” she said. “So am I, and I am gonna kick your ass in this class.”
“Probably,” he agreed. “I suck at math. Barely passed trig.”
“Then maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you are dumb.”
“No, I just don’t do my homework.”
“Slacker.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I test well.”
“Lucky you.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Some people like me actually have to work hard for their good grades.”
He smirked. “Some people like me actually have to work hard just to be good.”
“To be good?” Before she could ask what he meant, Mr. Jones interrupted again.
“Two people are talking,” he said, “and those people are not me. Does that seem acceptable?” He glared at her. “Spread the gossip some other time, blonde girl!”
She looked away from him, feeling intimidated. This teacher . . .
“Her name’s Maria,” Michael blurted out in her defense. “Maybe that’s what you should call her.”
“Perhaps you should not disrupt my class again, Guerin,” Mr. Jones snapped. “Pay attention.”
Michael lounged back in his seat, seeming unfazed. Maria wished she could be as calm as he was, but this teacher freaked her out.
“Don’t worry about him,” Michael told her, leaning closer to her. “He’s chicken-shit, but he’s all talk. He won’t do anything.”
“I’m not worried,” she lied.
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not. I’m still just reeling from the fact that you’re here.”
“And why’s that a bad thing?”
“It’s . . .” She trailed off when she couldn’t think of a reason. It really wasn’t a bad thing. It wasn’t bad at all. She had been walking through the gym a few minutes ago hoping to see him or someone like him, and now he was here. Now she had someone to talk to. Now she had a potential friend. The only problem was that this potential friend was a guy. Her dad would freak out . . .
“You know what, Michael?”
“What?” He looked right into her eyes, daring her to continue.
She wanted to cuss him out, but there was no reason to, so she said what she felt. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
He smiled.
All of a sudden, Mr. Jones slammed his chalk down on his desk. “That’s it!” he roared. “You two!” He looked at both of them, but he only pointed at Maria. “Blonde girl, I’ll see you for detention after school!”
“What?” Her mind immediately began whirling. Detention? She’d never had a detention before. “But it’s the first day of school!”
“And you’re already ruining my class! Detention!”
Michael tried to speak up. “Wait, don’t---”
“I don’t want to hear another word out of you!” Mr. Jones bellowed. “After school, blonde girl!”
She sat back in her chair, disappointed in herself. She couldn’t believe this. A detention on the first day of school. This was awful. She knew she shouldn’t let her educational performance suffer just because some good-looking guy sat down beside her.
But even as she thought this, she looked next to her at Michael and smiled.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I’m sorry.”
Maria looked up at Michael as they walked out of class together that day, smiling playfully. “For what, making me think you were in college or getting me a detention?”
“Both.” He sighed. “I just wanted to surprise you about the school thing.”
“Well, you shocked me.”
“Mission accomplished then. But the detention thing . . . that’s my fault. I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “It’s okay. Everyone needs detention once in awhile. We don’t grow up right without it.”
He shook his head and stopped in the middle of the hallway. “No, it’s not right. You don’t . . . listen, I’ll talk to him, okay. I’ll get you out of it.”
He sounded so confident, but she didn’t know how he could be. Mr. Jones was a tough guy, and Michael didn’t seem to be his favorite student. She didn’t know how anything he said would fix anything. “Go for it,” she encouraged, although she saw no hope of success.
“I will,” he assured her. “So what class do you have next?”
“Uh, let me look.” She took out her schedule and looked it over. “Oh, choir. Yea.” Then she remembered the teacher. “Oh, choir. No. Ms. Khencha!”
Michael’s brows furrowed. “New teacher?”
“Apparently. She can’t sing a note.”
“Ah, that sucks,” he said. “I’m glad I’m not taking choir.”
She wasn’t. She wasn’t glad at all. She would have loved to have another class with him. It was so easy to sit next to him and talk to him and feel completely comfortable. She didn’t feel that way around anyone else here.
“What do you have next?” she asked him.
“Photo journalism,” he told her. “And then . . . something else. I dunno.”
“Well, I guess I’ll see you when I see you, then.” She felt reluctant to leave him. Being around Michael was nice. Being around the rest of these people was awful.
“Do you know where the choir room is?” he asked her.
She didn’t. She really didn’t, but she didn’t want to look stupid, so she lied. “Of course.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “Yeah, it’s a small school. I’m sure you already know your way around. You probably don’t even need anybody to walk you to class.”
She tilted her head to the side and looked into his eyes. “You know, Michael, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”
He backed away, shrugging a little. “Maybe I am.”
She stood and watched him walk away, hugging her books to her chest. He was so handsome and so nice and so funny in his own way. And maybe he was flirting with her. This wasn’t good.
“Oh, boy.”
Alex was on his way to calculus when he saw Michael practically running down the hall. “Michael, hey!” he shouted.
“Hey!” Michael called, back, still running.
“How was calc?”
“Awesome!”
Alex ran to catch up with him. “Wait, you mean Jones wasn’t being an ass today?”
Michael finally stopped running and Alex was able to catch up to him. The guy looked . . . elated. There wasn’t any other word to describe it. It was weird. Lately he had been so tired and discouraged, but he looked so happy.
“Jones was being his usual self,” Michael told him, “and there’s a long-ass assignment today. Seriously, what kind of dumb fuck assigns homework on the first day of school?”
Alex chuckled. “You gonna do it?”
“Not a chance.”
“Okay, so you’re running around like a maniac and class sucked. I’m thinking you saw Maria.”
Michael grinned. “Sat by her. Talked to her.”
“Nice!”
“But it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Of course not.” Alex wasn’t fooled for a minute.
“She’s cool, though,” Michael said. “Really cool.” He stared off into space and smiled dreamily for a minute, and then he started backing away. “I’ll see you later, man! I gotta get to class!”
“See ya!” Alex called after him. “Dude, you’re so obvious!”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“So first Chicago, then Detroit, then Denver?”
Maria nodded, biting off the end of one of her french fries. “And now here.”
“And now here,” he resounded. “Wow, that’s a pretty hefty itinerary there.”
“I know,” she agreed, pushing her lunch tray away from her. “What about you? What’s yours like?”
“Mine?” He shifted around so that he was facing her. “Well, mine pretty much starts in Roswell and ends in Roswell.”
“So you’ve been here all your life?”
He nodded. “Yep. Seems like I should be an alien by now.”
She giggled. “Oh god, don’t you ever wanna be somewhere else, though?”
“Yeah,” he said, “but I guess it doesn’t really matter. I mean, there’s worse places.”
She shook her head. “Mmm, I’m not too sure about that.”
“No, there is,” he assured her. “Like Africa. They just got AIDS over there.”
“At least they have something.”
“AIDS,” he repeated. “Not a good thing.”
“Well, they have giraffes,” she said, “and elephants, and monkeys and stuff, and I’m not talking about the zoo kind. See, what do we have here in Roswell. We have, oh let’s see . . . nothing! There’s just . . . there’s nothing!” She held out her empty palm to demonstrate. “Air! Oh, air’s just fabulous!”
“Kinda is if you really think about it. Breathing and all.”
She sighed. “Okay, I realize I sound like the spoiled brat girl of the century by saying this, but where’s the fun?”
“Oh, it’s around.”
“But where? ‘Cause I’ve searched all around this town, and I haven’t found anything. There’s not even a dance club.” She pouted. She looked beautiful.
“No, there’s a club,” he told her. “Dancing and everything. It’s on the edge of town.”
“There is?” She seemed utterly shocked. “On the edge of town? Oh my god, that’s, like, two feet away from the center of town. How could I miss that?”
He chuckled. “It’s actually pretty easy to miss. You gotta know how to find it. There’s some back roads and all that.”
“Well, I’m gonna have to check it out,” she decided. “What’s it called?”
“The Ballroom.”
A horrified look crossed her face. “It’s some kind of waltzing club?”
“No, it’s the regular stuff.” He couldn’t believe how easy it was to smile around her. “They just call it the Ballroom.”
“Oh.” She seemed relieved. “Good. I can break it down hip-hop style, but that’s it.”
“You like that rap shit?”
She made a face of disgust. “Oh, gross. No way. I like other stuff.”
“Metallica?” he guessed hopefully.
“I’m not saying a word.” She twisted her shiny, blonde hair around her finger. “You’ll find out.”
“I see you’re trying your hand at the mystery now,” he observed.
She smirked. “How vengeful of me, huh?”
“No, I deserve it,” he said. “You know what, to make up for the secrecy thing I pulled on you, I’ll take you to the Ballroom.” Once he said that, he realized it sounded like he was asking her out on a date, and he didn’t want her to get the wrong impression, so he quickly added, “Someday.”
“Someday,” she agreed. “I’m gonna hold you to that.” She took a sip of her soda and then said, “Oh, to make up for the Ballroom, I’ll let you see my CD collection. Someday.”
“Alright, you better.”
“I will,” she promised.
“Alright.” Michael tore his gaze away from her when he noticed Isabel and Alex coming up to the table out of the corner of his eyes. Alex gestured to Michael and Maria as he set his tray down, saying, “And most likely to get married after high school goes to . . .”
Maria laughed. Michael gave him a warning look.
“Sorry,” Alex apologized, sitting down. “I’m occasionally extremely weird.”
“But that’s how I love him,” Isabel said, taking a seat beside him and across from Michael.
“Maria, this is Alex and Isabel,” Michael introduced. “They’re not really my friends. I just hired them.”
“Oh, don’t listen to him,” Isabel said. “Hi, Maria. I like your dress.”
“Thanks,” Maria said. “Uh, you told me this morning.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Isabel said. “Yeah, it’s really cute.”
Sure is, Michael thought, glancing over the beautiful girl. He hadn’t been this attracted to a girl for a long time.
“Well, well, well, Maria,” Alex said, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You have?”
Michael shot a look at Alex again. If he said one word . . .
His friend quickly recovered. “Well, yeah, it’s not too often we see new faces around here. You’re big news.”
Maria looked confused. “I don’t understand how I can be big news. People don’t even know me.”
“They can be really judgmental,” Isabel agreed, nodding sadly. “When I first came here, I thought they were gonna eat me alive. It’s like, the guys hate you for your brain. The girls hate you for your body.”
“Hmm,” Maria said. “Well, I don’t know why the girls hate me. I don’t really have a body.”
“Oh, that’s not true,” Michael blurted. Maria gave him a questioning look, and he looked away. He picked up his hamburger and took a big bite out of it. “Good food.”
“Well, I don’t hate you,” Isabel told her. “I don’t know you, either, but you seem like the Anti-Liz, which is what I like in a friend.”
“Liz?” Maria echoed. “Who’s Liz?”
“Nobody,” Michael told her hurriedly. “So, did you guys know Maria drives a Benz?”
“Yeah, that’s what you said,” Alex said between chews. He caught himself then, and recovered as best he could. “I mean . . . well, that’s what people have said.”
“It’s actually not looking so good right now,” Maria said. “My bumper’s about to fall off.”
“I could fix it sometime,” Michael offered.
She smiled at him. “Wow, you’re goin’ all out for me. Taking me to the Ballroom and fixing my bumper. I wonder what you’ll do next.”
Isabel piped up again. “Maybe he’ll marry you.”
Michael was so shocked to hear her say that that all he could was sit in disbelief for a few seconds. Finally, he started laughing a fake laugh, hoping Isabel and Alex wouldn’t make any more comments. “Oh, man,” he said, “that’s a good one, Isabel. You’re . . . wow, you’re a jokester!”
She shrugged. “Maybe I wasn’t joking.”
“So . . . funny,” Michael choked out, feeling like an idiot. “Hey, Maria, what class do you have next hour?”
She grimaced. “Anatomy.”
“Oh, me, too. How ‘bout I show you were the room is.”
“Oh, I know my way around the school, remember?”
He stood up from the table and looked down at her. “No, you don’t.”
She didn’t even bother to hide it this time. “I so don’t.”
“Go with him,” Isabel encouraged. “Alex and I will probably just sit here and make out anyway. You don’t wanna see that.”
“Actually, I think I might have already,” Maria said. “I think you two were sitting in front of me and my mom in the movie theater one time.”
“Small world,” Isabel said. “I apologize.”
Michael wanted to get out of there fast. Being around Isabel and Alex was too risky this early on his friendship with Maria. He didn’t want them saying anything that might offend her. “So, anatomy room . . .”
“Right,” Maria said, standing up with him.
“Anatomy room,” Alex scoffed. “More like eraser room.”
Maria looked up at Michael. “What’s the eraser room?”
“Oh, nothing,” he said, not wanting her to know Alex was referring to the room where students went to make-out.
“Okay,” she said. “Well, it was nice to meet you guys. Maybe I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah, later,” Isabel said.
“Let’s go,” Michael said, leading Maria out of the lunch room. He saw a lot of guys staring at her as she walked past, so he slowed his pace and walked closer to her. He didn’t know why, but he felt this need to protect her, to keep her safe from scumbags like Kyle Valenti. And he knew he wasn’t the best person for the job, considering he had once worn the scumbag reputation with pride.
“So how do you like Isabel and Alex?” he asked her as they walked along a row of lockers to the anatomy room.
“They’re really nice,” she said. “Kinda weird, like you.” She smiled. “And like me.”
“Weird is good,” he agreed. “Except gothic weird. I draw the line there.”
She laughed. “Yeah, me, too. Isabel and Alex seem like they’re more in love weird.”
“In love weird?” he echoed. “New breed.”
“I see it all the time,” she went on. “My mom would be the prime example here. She agrees with everything my dad says and does because she’s so in love with him.”
He gave her a confused look. “Sounds like she’s more afraid of him.”
“Ah, that, too. It’s crazy, though, isn’t it? People fall in love and lose their minds.”
He wondered if she had ever lost her mind before. There was so much he wanted to know about her. What was her favorite color? Her favorite food? Did she have a boyfriend?
“I’ve never lost my mind before,” he said, just to let her know.
“Really?” She seemed surprised. “Hmm.”
“Hmm? What’s with hmm?”
She shrugged and slowed her pace. “I don’t know. You don’t seem too shy. I just figured you’ve probably had, like, ten girlfriends or something. If you’ve had that many, chances are you’ve loved one of them.”
He tried to laugh it off, but she said really affected him. “Oh, well, I haven’t had ten girlfriends,” he said, and that was true. He’d had more.
“That’s good,” she said. “It’s better to have a small number.”
Oh, shit, he thought, needing to get out of this conversation. She can’t find out about me . . .
“Are we getting any closer to anatomy?”
“Uh . . .” He stopped and looked around, realizing that they had already passed it. “It’s back there,” he said, pointing down the hallway. “Sorry.”
“You’ve been going to this school for four years and you’re this bad with directions?”
“Sorry,” he said again. “You know, it’s a long trek back. We could just sit out here and talk if you want.”
“Talking’s good,” she said. “Let’s do that.” She sat down on the floor, and he sat down next to her. A companionable silence encased them for a short while until she spoke up. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” As long as it wasn’t something about Liz, Courtney, or any of the other girls he’d had a sex-based relationship with, he would answer honestly.
“Why don’t you do homework?”
He laughed a little, relieved to hear her ask that. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I don’t see the point.”
“You don’t?” She considered it. “Hmm. I do. I see it. It’s a big point. It’s very pointy.”
He leaned in closer to her. “We are talkin’ about homework, right?”
She hit his shoulder playfully. “Gutter-head.”
“Well, do you blame me?”
“Seriously,” she said, “if you don’t do your homework, how are you gonna get into college?”
“I’m not goin’ to college,” he reminded her.
“That’s what you say now, but come October when everyone’s applying for schools, you’re gonna get restless and wanna join them. I mean, it’s only natural. You’ve been in Roswell all your life. You gotta get out sooner or later.”
“Well, maybe later then,” he said. “I can’t go to college.”
“I don’t buy that,” she said. “Everybody can go to college. Some people go sitting on mountains of student loans, but . . .” She shrugged. “One way or another.”
“That’s my problem,” he said. “I can’t afford it. You know Mt. Everest? That’s what my loans would look like.”
“What about scholarships? You’re smart.”
“But I don’t have good grades.”
“Because you don’t do your homework. Do you see how we’ve come full circle here?”
He studied her, confused. “I don’t get you,” he said. “You say you wanna have fun around here, but then you start goin’ on about homework. What’s that about?”
“I multi-task,” she explained.
“Well, maybe I should do that.”
“Maybe,” she agreed. “If you want to. It’s up to. I have to. I have to get into UCLA.”
“Oh, wow, you wanna go all the way out there?”
She nodded. “Yep. And my dad wants me to.”
“And you want to?” he asked, just for clarification.
She nodded after a short pause. “Yeah. I might study law or something.”
“Law?” That caught him by surprise. She didn’t seem the type.
“Yeah, my dad’s a lawyer, too,” she added.
“Your dad? Oh, I didn’t know that was him.”
“You’ve heard about him?”
“Yeah, Isabel and Alex told me there was a new lawyer in town. I didn’t know it was your dad.”
“Oh, he’d love to know he’s famous.”
Michael wasn’t sure what to think of Maria’s father. Judging by what he had heard so far, he sounded sort of . . . egotistic. “I bet he’s tough.”
“He is,” she admitted. “He’s kinda---”
Before she could finish, Principal Forrester seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Who’s down there?” he called. “Is that you, Michael?”
“Get fuckin’ glasses,” Michael muttered under his breath. “Yeah, it’s me!”
“Are we in trouble?” Maria asked him.
“No,” he assured her, even though he wasn’t sure if they were or not. He rose to his feet and held out his hand to help her up. Their hands locked as he pulled her to her feet, and he didn’t want to let go. But he did.
“You two need to stay in the cafeteria during the lunch hour,” Principal Forrester told them, making his way toward them. “You know that, Michael.”
“Right,” he said. “Sorry or something.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Maria jumped in. “I didn’t know.”
Principal Forrester squinted as if he weren’t seeing things straight. “Ms. DeLuca? Is that you?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I really didn’t know, Mr. Forrester.”
“No, it’s alright,” he said. “Actually, I was just looking for you. I need to see you in my office.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No, not at all,” he assured her. “If you will . . .” He gestured behind him to his office. “It won’t take long.”
Maria contemplated it for a minute and then looked up at Michael. “Will you come with me?” she asked him.
“Yeah,” he said, glad that she wanted him to stick around.
They followed the principal to his office. Once there, though, Principal Forrester told Michael he’d have to wait outside. He led Maria inside and shut the door.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria wasn’t sure what was going on. What could he possibly have to tell her on the first day of school that Michael couldn’t hear?
“Have a seat, Maria,” he urged, motioning toward the chair across his desk.
She sat down hesitantly. “What’s this all about?”
“Well, I saw you down there with Michael, and I just wanted to have a little chat.”
“A chat?” she echoed, not understanding. “About what?”
He folded his hands over his lap, suddenly seeming more like a guidance counselor than a principal. “It’s tough being new,” he said. “Trust me, I know. I moved around a lot as a kid, too. Sometimes I would find myself in a new school with absolutely no friends, and I would just cling to the first person who passed by.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’m not sure what this has to do with me. I’m not clinging.”
He smiled sadly. “You say you’re not, but I know the signs. And you’re not the first young lady who’s done this. I’ve seen it happen over and over again. That guy turns on the charm and girls fall for him, but it never ends well.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked him. “I don’t think you’re allowed to be discussing this with me.”
“But it concerns you.”
“But whatever he does is his personal life, and I really don’t think that’s any of your business.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry, Maria, but Michael Guerin isn’t our best student by any means. I don’t think it’s wise for you to be associating with him this early on in the year.”
She was becoming so mad at him so fast. He had no right . . . “I don’t think it’s wise for you to be telling me who I should and should not be friends with,” she retorted.
“I’m not forcing you to stay away from him,” Principal Forrester clarified. “I’m just reading you the warning label. I’m merely making a suggestion. You’re a very intelligent girl. I’d hate to see you make such a mistake.” He gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m just trying to help.”
She glared angrily at him, amazed at how unbelievably pompous he was. “You know what, I have my dad for things like this.” She rose from the chair, keeping her eyes locked with his. “I don’t need your help.” She pushed the chair back then and exited the office, wanting to be far away from that man and his “help.”
Michael was still sitting outside, waiting for her. “Hey, how did it go?” he asked her.
She looked him over, wondering how Principal Forrester could believe he was a bad guy. He was obviously one of the few good ones left in this town.
“Are you alright?” he asked her when she didn’t say anything.
“Yeah,” she said quickly upon realization that she had been zoning out. “I’m good.”
“What did he have to talk to you about?”
She couldn’t tell him the truth. The truth would upset him. “My schedule,” she lied.
“It’s not gonna change, is it?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“Good,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. His touch was warm and inviting. “I need time with you.”
She smiled up at him, feeling a blush rising to her cheeks. “I need time with you, too.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Mr. Hansen, the anatomy teacher, was much nicer than Mr. Jones or any of the other teachers Maria had met that day. Instead of teaching a lesson and assigning homework, he told everyone a little bit about himself and had all the students tell about each of themselves in turn. A petite brunette girl volunteered to go first. Maria saw Michael roll his eyes when she stood up to talk.
“Well, this summer was a disaster for me,” the girl began.
“Wait just a minute,” Mr. Hansen cut in. “Tell everyone your name first.”
She grunted. “Please. Everyone already knows my name.”
Maria leaned over to Michael and whispered, “I don’t.”
He groaned. “That’s Liz Parker.”
“Liz.” She rolled the name across her tongue, remembering hearing it earlier. Isabel had said it. “Bad Liz?”
“Yeah, bad Liz,” he said. “You should probably just try to tune her out. That’s what I always do.”
“Like, I said, I had a disastrous summer,” Liz started over. “I went with my parents to Spain thinking it was going to be a wonderful time. For once in my life, I was wrong. Although I did meet a guy named Alejandro. He was gorgeous.”
Alex threw his hands up in the air. “Alejandro! People, that’s my Spanish name!”
Maria laughed right along with Isabel and Michael and the rest of the class, but Liz sent him a death-glare. “Do not interrupt me,” she told him. “Where was I? Oh, yes. Alejandro. Well, he snuck me into a bar and we had a few drinks. You know how that goes.”
“Oh my god,” Maria gasped. She couldn’t believe any girl would stand up in the middle of the class and say this.
“Anyway,” Liz continued, “besides Alejandro, where do I start with the bad? First of all, we had to visit my lame second cousins. I don’t know why they moved to that wretched country in the first place. No one even speaks American. It’s so ridiculous.”
“See, this is Liz,” Michael told Maria quietly. “She speaks ‘American,’ more or less, so she thinks everyone else should, too.”
“I don’t like her,” Maria said.
Michael shook his head. “I don’t, either.”
“Plus, the food was disgusting,” Liz added. “I wouldn’t complain about these school lunches, kids. They’re way better than that Spanish crap they’re serving over in Madrid.” She sighed. “Oh, it was just awful. I actually thought it couldn’t get any more awful, and then it did. We went to the Prado. I didn’t know it was a museum. My mom tricked me into going. She said it was a fashion boutique and I believed her. But it so wasn’t. It was just art, and art, and more art. Who cares about pictures and drawings and sculptures and all that? For God’s sake, who the hell cares about freaking photography?” She looked back at Michael. “No offense, sweetheart.”
That startled Maria a little bit. Once Liz went back to talking, she asked Michael about it. “Sweetheart?”
“Just tune her out,” he said again. “She’s . . . I hate her.”
But Maria couldn’t tune her out. She was pretty sure no one in the class could. She said the dumbest, meanest things, and Maria found herself on the edge of her seat, waiting to see what would come out of her mouth next.
“To conclude,” she said as if she were ending a speech, “this summer sucked. The only good thing about it was coming back here and knowing that everyone still loves me and that I’m still the most popular girl in school.” She glared at Isabel as though there had once been a competition between the two of them.
Maria moved closer to Michael. “Okay, tell me, how is she the most popular? She’s a monster.”
“Exactly,” Michael said. “All the other girls fear her, so they follow her.”
“Kinda like my mom,” she muttered. “Well, why hasn’t anyone taken her out?”
He chuckled. “This is a high school, not a hit squad.”
“I mean why hasn’t anyone taken her out of her popularity position? Isabel’s way prettier than she is, and way nicer. She could do it.”
“Isabel’s tried,” he assured her. “You gotta understand, it’s one girl against an army of followers. There were so many broken nails, it wasn’t even funny.”
Maria resigned to the reality. “Well, I guess I see your point.”
“Why don’t you try it?” he suggested. “Kick her ass.”
She thought about it only briefly. “Well, I better not. I am still new here, you know. I should probably refrain from the ass-kicking for awhile.”
Before Maria knew it, it was her turn to tell about herself. She really didn’t want to, because she was a private person and these people were all idiots, but she knew she didn’t have a choice, so she just stuck to the basics. “Um, okay, well, I’m Maria DeLuca,” she started, “and I’m obviously new here. I’m a senior. My dad’s a lawyer. I like cheese. That’s about it.”
“Where did you move from, Maria?” Mr. Hansen asked her.
“All over, really,” she answered. “I started out in Chicago, moved to Detroit, and then to Denver, and now here.”
Liz laughed almost wickedly. “Wow,” she said. “Midwestern. That’s cool, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Maria said, not sure what else to say.
Liz looked around the room. “Tell me if I’m wrong people, but aren’t Midwesterners, like, two years behind on all the fashion styles?”
A few people laughed, and Maria grew livid. That girl . . . that awful girl . . . “No, actually that’d be whores from Roswell, New Mexico.”
Liz gasped in outrage, and there was a moment when Maria thought she might run over and slap her. The whole class erupted in disbelief, but luckily Mr. Hansen quieted everybody down. “Alright, Maria,” he said. “Well, unless you have anything else to say . . .”
“Yeah, just one more thing.” She stared directly at Liz. “I drive a Mercedes Benz.”
Liz huffed. “Whatever. I drive a Porsche.”
“You do not, Liz!” Isabel shouted.
“Well, I will when my dad stops spending the money on stupid Spain!”
“That’s all I have to say,” Maria finished up, sitting down in her seat again. She glanced over at Michael as Alex began talking. He was smiling. “Is that you not kicking her ass? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, it was pretty fuckin’ righteous.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” she agreed. “It was just too tempting not to.”
Eventually, it was Michael’s turn to get up and talk. He looked a little nervous for some reason. “Uh, I’ll just make it quick,” he said. “I’ve gone here all my life so obviously you guys know me. Um . . . I live with my dad. I like hard rock music, mostly Metallica. And I’m pretty good at photography, although all the pictures I’ve been taking lately are crappy.”
So Michael likes photography, Maria registered. Artistic guys are so hot.
“Tell them what else you’re good at,” Liz urged.
“I’ve said everything I wanna say,” he said, sitting down hurriedly.
“Oh, come on,” she said with a smile. “Tell them, Michael.”
He glanced over at Maria quickly, and then back at Liz again. Maria wasn’t used to seeing him look so nervous.
“Tell them,” Liz kept coaxing. “It’s only right.”
“Right,” he said. “Yeah, I’m a pretty good . . . cook, too.”
Alex laughed. “Master chef of Hot Pockets right there!”
Liz rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Michael.”
When the bell rang, Maria made the decision to ask Michael what was up with Liz. She was really strange with him. So as everyone was pushing in their chairs and filing out the door she inquired quietly, “Michael, what’s with you and Liz? Did you guys go out or something?”
“What? Oh, no. No, we . . . never.”
“‘Cause it kinda seems like you did.”
“We didn’t,” he assured her. “No, there’s nothing between me and her. Just mutual disrespect and hatred.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling stupid. “I guess I was just imagining things.”
“I guess,” he agreed, looking down at the floor. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry she was being a bitch to you. I’m no expert on fashion sense, but I think your’s is ten times better than hers.”
“I think so, too,” she said. “It’s alright, though. I’m used to people saying stuff like that, what with me being a girl and a blonde and, you know, a Midwesterner.”
He chuckled and held the door open for her. “Well, if it’s any consolation, you’re the coolest Midwesterner I know.”
“Uh-huh! You know it!”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael had just finished talking to Mr. Jones after school that day when he saw Maria sulking down the hall to serve her detention. He ran out to meet her before she went in the room to tell her the good news. “Hey,” he greeted.
She smiled when she saw him. “Hey, what’re you still doing here?”
“Stuff,” he said. “I got good news. I got you out of your detention.”
An expression of disbelief crossed her face. “You’re kidding.”
He shook his head. “I’m not.”
Her smile grew. “How?”
“I just gave him a good talking to.”
“How paternal of you.”
He laughed. “What?”
“Oh my god, thank you, Michael. I don’t know how you did it.”
“I have my ways,” he promised her. “So I guess you’re free to go.”
“Free at last! Free at last!” she joked. “Okay, am I the lamest girl of the century or what?”
“Not in my book,” he told her. “So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I guess,” she said. “Or . . . I don’t know, do you wanna hang out tonight?”
“Uh, tonight?”
“Yeah. I’ll have to lie to my parents, but—shh—I’ve done it before.”
He wanted to, no doubt about it, but he couldn’t. “Oh, I can’t tonight,” he told her. “I gotta . . . I gotta do something tonight.”
“Oh, right,” she said. “You probably have to work or something.”
“Yeah,” he said, even though he had quit his job at the gas station now. “Work or something.”
“Well, maybe some other night then.”
“Definitely.”
“Okay.” She stood there for a few seconds as if she didn’t know whether to say goodbye or not. Finally, she did. “Well, I’ll see you.” She started off down the hallway, waving. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” he said. He watched her disappear around the corner, and he was about to go back into Mr. Jones’s room when he heard footsteps running toward him. He watched as she came running back rather awkwardly in her high heels before throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. He held her close, enjoying the feel of her body so close to his.
“I’m glad you’re here, Michael,” she told him, finally letting go. She smiled and walked away from him once more, and when he was sure that she was really gone this time, he said, “I’m glad you’re here, too.” Then he headed back into Mr. Jones’s room again, and took a seat at the table.
“How noble,” Mr. Jones’s commented. “Taking a hit for the blonde girl.” He laughed, seemingly pleased with the situation. “Your detention begins.”
When Maria got home from school, her mother was waiting on the couch for her with a big plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Oh, how’s my little senior?” she chirped. “Did you have a good day?”
“Yeah,” Maria said, pleased to be telling the truth. She’d had a lot of fun hanging out with Michael. He had made this one of the best, if not the best, first day in a new school ever.
“Sit down and tell me all about it,” Amy said, patting the space on the couch beside her.
Maria knew she couldn’t tell her. There was too much Michael-related stuff. Against her better judgement, though, she wanted to sit down and talk to her mother about him, to tell her what beautiful eyes he had, what warm hands he had, what . . .
“Maria, are you with me?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, snapping out of her thoughts. “I mean no. Um . . . I actually have a lot of homework to do.”
“On the first day?”
She nodded. “Sad, isn’t it?”
“So very,” Amy agreed. “Well, take these cookies with you.” She handed Maria the plate. “Oh, before you go up, please tell me you were able to make some friends.” She clasped her hands together as if she were praying.
“Yeah, you know, I did,” she said.
“Who?”
She sighed, looking around for her father. “Okay, just between you and me, you know that--” She stopped herself before saying ‘guy’ because she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. Her father. He was trying to spy on her. She quickly recovered. “That I was worrying. I mean, I was freaking out. But after first period . . . no problem. I’m gonna be just fine.”
“So you made friends?”
“Yeah, Isabel and Alex.”
“Alex?” her father bellowed, making his presence known. He stomped down the stairs with an angry look on his face. “Who’s this Alex?”
“A friend,” she repeated. “Don’t worry, Dad. He and Isabel are totally in love. He’s no threat.” She turned back to her mother. “Actually, I think they were the couple in front of us in the movie theater a few nights ago.”
“Oh,” Amy said, remembering. “Oh! Yeah, Jim, he’s really no threat.”
“See?” Maria said. “Everything’s fine and dandy. Now I’ll just take these cookies and these books and get crackin’.” She smiled, feeling sublimely happy for the first time in weeks, and headed upstairs to work on calculus.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria had a hard time getting up and around the next morning. She wasn’t a morning person by any means, and she still wasn’t sleeping all that well in her bedroom. The room was exquisite and comfortable and everything she wanted, but it was always so cold.
She plodded down the stairs, yawning tiredly. “Hey, Mom,” she said. “Where’s Dad?”
“He’s already gone for work,” her mother told her. “It’s already 7:30, Maria.”
“What?!” she shrieked. “I have half an hour to get ready! Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Amy shrugged. “I figured you could use the sleep. Besides, when I was in high school, it only took me fifteen minutes to get ready.”
“Mom, no offense, but when you were in high school, big hair was actually cool.” She clutched the blonde mess atop her head. “Great. How am I gonna pull this off?”
“Better hurry,” Amy suggested.
She did hurry. She got showered and dressed faster than she ever had before, and she applied her make-up in record time. In the end, though, she didn’t have enough time to straighten her hair, so she let it go wavy.
“Alright, I’m off, Mom,” she called, heading out to the garage. “Aren’t you proud of me for getting ready on time?” She opened up the door to the garage, and a panicked scream escaped her mouth when she saw what was inside: nothing. “Ahh! My car! Oh my god, where’s my car?”
“It’s not there,” Amy pointed out calmly.
“Where is it?”
“Your dad has it,” her mom explained. “He’s took it today to get the bumper fixed.”
“Oh.” As her heart rate began to decrease, Maria calmed down. “Well, he could’ve told me.”
“I’m dropping you off and picking you up at school today,” Amy said. “Let’s go.”
Maria groaned.
“What?” Amy asked. “What is it? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”
“No, not ashamed, just . . . well, what kind of teenager really wants to be chauffeured around by their mom?”
“Well, your driving’s not up to par. There’s no way you’re driving my car or your father’s. Now let’s go.”
Maria resigned herself to showing up with mom, and headed outside to her mother’s Porsche. Liz would be so envious, she thought. This was a nice car, even nicer than the Benz. Her mother rarely drove it, though. She was afraid of wrecking it.
Maria turned on the radio, blasting hardcore Hawthorne Heights on the way to school. Her mother suggested listening to one of the Simpson sisters. “They’re always on one station or another. I’m sure we could listen to one of their songs and both be content.”
“Yeah, or I could be driven insane. Honestly, Mom, I can only take a little computer manipulation when it comes to music. We’re listening to Hawthorne Heights.”
Amy shook her head. “I don’t know why you like that group. You never even hear anything about them. They’re practically undiscovered.” She huffed. “Some musicians should stay undiscovered.”
She wondered if she was one of those musicians.
Amy pulled up to school just as the buses were leaving. The other late risers were struggling inside, carrying backpacks full of heavy books.
“Well, here we are,” Amy announced. “Do you have everything?”
“Yep,” Maria said. “Pencil. Pen. Calculus. It doesn’t get much more covered than that.”
“That’s good,” Amy said. “That’s . . . really good.” Something caught her eye, and she stared off out Maria’s window. “Oh, honey, would you look at him?”
Maria followed her mother’s gaze and saw a familiar guy traipsing into school—none other than Michael!
“Oh, wow,” Amy raved. “He’s sure a hottie, isn’t he?”
Oh my god, Maria thought, panicked. This is so weird.
“So good-looking!” Amy continued. “Not that I’m promoting any interaction with boys. Your father wouldn’t have it. But I can see how you’d be tempted with that one. Wow! What do you think? Do you know him?”
Maria shook her head hurriedly. “No idea.”
“You think he’s handsome, though, right?”
What an easy question that was! She was pretty sure all girls with eyes thought Michael was handsome, but she didn’t want her mom to know that. “He’s alright,” she said. Understatement.
“Wow,” Amy said again. “Okay, well . . . oh, this is so bad of me. He’s only half my age.”
“And you’re married,” Maria put in. She grabbed her books and got out of the car. “3:30 this afternoon, okay? Be here.”
“3:30, I remember,” Amy said. “Have a nice day, honey.”
“Bye.” Maria shut the door and started inside, eager to get away from her mother’s ‘wow’ comments. Okay, so Michael was definitely wow-worthy, but . . . oh, it was just so weird!
Once inside, Maria ran down the hallway to catch up with Michael. He was already at his locker working the combination. “Michael!” she shouted.
He looked up when he heard her. “Oh, hey. I can’t remember my damn locker combination.”
She froze when she realized she did. Oh, that’s just ridiculous, she thought. He had shared it with her during passing period yesterday, and it had stuck. So ridiculous. “Try something with a five,” she suggested. “Five, nine, twenty or something.”
He put in the numbers and then pulled open his locker with ease. “Alright. Nice, Maria.”
“Oh, lucky guess,” she lied, leaning up against the lockers next to his. “So I have something to tell you.”
He shoved his CD player in his locker. “I hope this involves you doing violent harm to Liz in some way.”
“I lack violent tendencies,” she told him. “No, actually, this is about my mom.”
“Your mom?” He gave her a confused look. “What about her?”
“She was checking you out when you were walking in here.”
“She was, huh?”
“Mmm-hmm. Let me tell you, I was freaked. She was all like, ‘wow, what a stud,’ although she didn’t exactly say that, but I could tell she was thinking it. Oh, she called you a hottie.”
He chuckled. “Woman’s got good taste.”
“You wanna rethink that? She’s with my dad, remember.”
Michael shut his locker. “Is your dad really that bad?”
“He’s okay,” she said. “It’s . . . back to my mom, here . . . it was just wrong.”
“Did you say, ‘hey, that’s the guy who taught me how to pump gas,’?”
She shook her head. “I just stared in shock.”
“I do look good today,” he said. “I do look good every day.” He smiled at her. “So do you.”
She reached up and touched her hair. “I do? I don’t feel very pretty today.”
“But you are,” he assured her, “every day.”
She blushed. “Always so generous with the compliments.”
He shrugged. “Some compliments are easy to give.”
She stared right at him, getting lost in his eyes. He was so attractive. No wonder her mom couldn’t take her eyes off him. No one could. “So,” she said, trying desperately to maintain verbal function, “wanna help me remember my locker combination?”
“Six, sixteen, forty-eight,” he blurted. “Er . . . something like that.”
Michael was ridiculous, too.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Oh my god, look at them,” Isabel cooed as she watched Maria and Michael standing by the lockers. “They’re so cute.”
“Looks like my man’s laying out that irresistible Guerin charm,” Alex said. “I’m so proud. I’ve trained him so well.”
“You’ve trained him?” Isabel huffed. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m still proud,” Alex said. “He’s workin’ it.”
“I think she’s totally into him,” Isabel remarked. “Look at that body language. Tilting the head, looking up almost through the lids . . . that’s flirtation 101.” She sighed wistfully. “We have got to get them together.”
“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “Yeah, but . . . how?”
“Oh, we’ll figure something out,” Isabel assured him. “We just can’t let chemistry like that go unnoticed for long.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Hey, did you get yesterday’s assignment done?”
Maria flashed her calculus paper at Michael, all twenty-four problems written out neatly and correctly. “This homework’s so good, it deserves an award,” she boasted.
“Oh, wow,” he said. “Award-worthy. That’s . . . that’s cool.”
“Let me guess: you didn’t get it done.” Maria hadn’t known Michael long, but she knew him fairly well already, and she knew that homework was pretty much on the bottom of his priorities list . . . assuming he had a list. She wasn’t too clear on that.
“No, I got it done,” he told her. “It’s just . . . well, my dog ate it, so I phoned my uncle Rory, who it turns out just started his own fishing business up in Canada. He was planning on mailing me this line so I could just fish my homework back up, but—what can I say?—my dog’s stomach’s a bottomless pit, you know.”
She gave him a look. “You’re extremely weird. And also lying.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he conceded. “I am lying. I don’t have a dog. Or an Uncle Rory.”
“You don’t have your homework,” she said matter-of-factly. “Shame on you, Michael.”
“I know, shame on me,” he agreed. “Listen, yours is looking pretty nice right about now. Do you think I can just copy?”
“Can?” she echoed. “As in capable of? Well, yes, Michael. You are capable of copying. The real question is, will I let you?”
“Exactly,” he said, leaning in toward her. “Will you let me?”
He was so gorgeous with that half smile/grin that always played at his lips, with that mischievous look in his deep brown eyes. A part of her wanted to give in and hand over her paper, but her conscience wouldn’t let her. That wasn’t the type of thing she did. She’d never let anyone cheat off her before, so why start now just because a handsome, strong guy wanted her to? Why start now?
“What do you say? You know you want to,” he coaxed.
She shook her head slowly.
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “It’s just . . . well, a girl needs to assert herself once in awhile. I’m asserting.”
“And I’m begging. Please.”
“I would,” she said, “but what would be the point? You’d copy, learn nothing at all. I’d become your partner in crime.”
“Crime can be good,” he assured her. “It really can be.”
She shook her head again. “I’m sorry, Michael. That’s just not my style.”
He sighed. “No, that’s alright. I’ll just . . . do something.”
As they sat there waiting for Mr. Jones to start explaining the next lesson, an idea occurred to Maria. She knew how to do math, and Michael obviously didn’t. She could be his teacher. “I could help you, if you want,” she volunteered.
“What’re you talkin’ about?”
“Tutoring,” she said. “I know it sounds like a geeky thing, but I was gonna start back in Denver. They had a whole tutoring program there and everything. Why don’t I be your tutor?”
“Tutor,” he echoed, testing out the word. “You teach me, and I still have to do all the work.”
She shrugged. “Better than copying.”
“But not necessarily easier.”
“It’s just a thought.”
He sighed. “You know what? If you were anyone else, I probably would’ve said hell no by now.”
She smiled. “But?”
“But . . .” He moved closer still. “Tutoring means I get to spend time with you, right?”
She could feel the blush rising to her cheeks. “Right.”
He grinned. “Then I’m in.”
Of course he was.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael was resting his head on his table in anatomy that day when he felt hands massaging his shoulders. “Maria?” he asked without looking up. “Is that you?”
A girl laughed. Her voice registered right away. It wasn’t Maria. It was Liz. He poked his head up and jerked away from her, not wanting her to be touching him. “What’re you doing?” he asked her.
She laughed again, sashaying down the aisle to her table. “Looks like we’re the only two in here, baby.”
“Not for long,” he pointed out, glancing up at the clock. The bell would ring in four minutes.
“Where is your shadow, anyway?” she inquired. “Or are you her shadow? I can’t figure it out.” She shrugged, setting her books down. “It’s pathetic either way.”
“You’re just jealous.”
“Jealous?” she huffed. “Of her? My ferret has a better ass than that.”
But Michael could tell she really was jealous. Liz had many talents, but lying was not one of them.
Liz hopped up on the table, crossing her legs. She was wearing a short mini-skirt that revealed lots of leg, but Michael no longer found that image enticing. “So where is she?” Liz asked again. “You better hope she’s not on the make with some other guy. Then you’d be the jealous one.”
“She went to her locker,” he told her. “Had to get a book.”
“Aw, I think that’s so cute how you guys keep tabs on each other.”
“Lay off it, Liz.”
“You work fast,” she commented out of nowhere. “Day two and you’ve already got her eating out of the palm of your hand. Next thing you know, you’ll be eating her out.”
“I won’t,” he said, even though an image of what that would look like flashed through his mind. He didn’t want to think those things about Maria. She was a nice girl. They were friends. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin that.
“You can lie to her,” Liz went on, “and you can even lie to yourself, Michael, but you can’t lie to me. I know you inside and out.”
“Really?” He found that hard to believe. “When’s my birthday?”
A look of alarm crossed her face. Of course.
Just then, Maria walked into the room with a bunch of other students, and the hostility between Michael and Liz was broken. “Hey,” she said, sitting down beside him.
“Hey,” he said, letting his eyes linger over her for a moment. She was an extremely attractive girl, but he didn’t want his hormones to get the best of him. He couldn’t handle another fling, especially not with her. She was already more to him than that.
“Are you okay?” she asked him. “You look kinda---”
“I’m fine,” he cut in. “Better now that you’re here.”
She smiled and blushed, and Michael felt guilty. The poor girl had no idea what kinds of things he had done in the past.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria didn’t really start to get apprehensive until the buses had left and she still didn’t see her mother. Okay, five minutes late, she reassured herself as she waited out in front of the school. That’s nothing. That’s okay. She’ll be here soon.
Isabel and Alex strode outside arm in arm about a minute later into her waiting, smiling and waving when they saw her. Maria liked them a lot. They seemed like really nice people, and she could see why Michael was friends with them. Alex was funny as hell, and Isabel was about the only other girl here in school with a brain all her own.
“Hey, Maria,” Isabel chirped. “Who you waitin’ on?”
“My mom,” she told them. “She, uh . . . she was supposed to pick me up.”
“I thought you were driving the Benz,” Alex said. “I like the Benz.”
“Bumper problem,” she explained. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon, though.”
“Yeah,” Isabel agreed, but she sounded less than positive. “Hey, listen, I have some experience waiting for parents. The thing is, they don’t always show up. Alex and I can give you a ride home if you want.”
“Oh, thanks, but I should probably just wait a little longer,” Maria told them. “It’s only been a few minutes. You guys just go on home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Isabel said. “Well, if she doesn’t come, you can just call her in the office.”
“She’ll be here,” Maria assured her. “Thanks. Bye, guys.”
Maria waited for another twenty minutes after Isabel and Alex had gone. The more she waited, the more perturbed she became. She knew her mother had forgotten, but how could she? It wasn’t as if she had some huge important thing going on. She was going to meet with some of the neighbors again today, but that was all. Was that really worth forgetting about your daughter? Was anything worth forgetting?
She had just about given up hope and was about to resign to an office phone call when someone else walked outside. “What’re you still doin’ here?”
She spun around and saw Michael, and she couldn’t help but smile. She absolutely loved being around him. “I’m waiting,” she told him.
“I hate to tell you, but the buses took off awhile ago.”
She smacked his shoulder playfully. “I’m not a moron, you know. Just ‘cause I was unfamiliar with the gas pump . . .”
“Very unfamiliar.”
She placed her hands on her hips and locked eyes with him. “I understand calculus. That’s more than you can say.”
“Okay, I’ll admit it. You got my ass kicked there. I didn’t know what the hell Jones was talkin’ about today. I was, like, completely not understanding. I think I’m gonna need some of that tutorial time we were talking about after all. Maybe tonight?”
“Tonight,” she echoed, looking away from him. “Um, actually tonight’s probably not a workable thing.”
“Why not?”
“I told my parents I’d be home tonight.”
He shrugged, setting his books down on the concrete bench. “So? Just tell ‘em plans changed and I’m coming over.”
“No, you really don’t understand,” she said. “See, my house is basically bugged. No foreign male can step into the household without either passing a written exam or having a sex change.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Yeah, I’m kidding. But it might as well be that way with my dad dictating everything there.”
Michael cringed. “Not a big fan of the Y chromosome, is he?”
“No, and I don’t understand that, ‘cause he has one.”
“Maybe I could talk to him,” Michael suggested. “If I explain it’s just for tutoring . . .”
She shook her head. “It won’t work. You haven’t met him, Michael. You don’t know what he’s like.”
“Okay, so let me meet him.”
“Trust me, that’s something you really don’t wanna do. Listen, just give me a few days to think up a good lie, and then I’ll sneak out for tutoring.”
He stared at her incredulously. “Yeah, ‘cause that’s a better plan than just talking to him.”
She sighed. “Listen, I wish we could just talk, but he won’t understand. Desperate times call for desperate measures, you know?”
“Hey, it’s your choice,” he said, “but I don’t wanna be responsible for getting you into any trouble.”
“I won’t get into trouble,” she told him. “Like I said, I’ll figure it out. Right now, though, I just need you to go. You can’t be here when my mom comes.”
“Why? Am I too good-looking or something?”
Maria rolled her eyes, pretending to be exasperated. “She’ll get the wrong idea; she’ll tell my dad . . . thus begins the chaotic scene.”
He sighed. “Ah, alright. I’ll take off. You wanna come with me?”
“I can’t, Michael.”
“Why not?” He picked up his books. “You can sneak outta the house but you can’t catch a ride home with me?”
“I have to wait for my mom,” she reminded him. “If she gets here and I’m gone, she’ll flip out.”
“Maria, I don’t think she’s coming,” he told her. “It’s almost 4:00. Face it. She forgot.”
Deep inside, Maria knew she had. She just didn’t want to admit it. “So what am I supposed to do? I can’t get a ride home with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because if my mom’s home, she could see me in the car with you, and then the whole chaos thing applies again.”
“Maria, I think you worry too much,” he said. “If she sees you with me, it’s her own fault. She can’t blame you. She can only blame herself. So let me give you a ride.”
She wanted to go with him; she wanted that badly. It was so risky, though, almost too risky. What if? The words kept running through her head. What if this happened, and then this other thing happened, and then this huge thing happened? Then what would happen?
Finally, she pushed through her own resistence and accepted his offer. “Fine. Just . . . just let me handle it if she sees you, okay?”
“Okay,” he said. “My car’s right over there.”
She followed him to a beat up dark blue Honda Civic parked alongside a much nicer Jeep Wrangler. The contrast was striking.
“It’s unlocked. You can get in,” he said. “It’s not nice, I know, but . . .”
“It’s fine,” she told him, climbing inside. “It’s a car.”
He got in beside her, shifting around some old Burger King wrappers and cups. “Sorry ‘bout the mess,” he apologized. Suddenly, his eyes bulged as he caught sight of something in the backseat. He reached back and tried to hide several magazines before Maria could see them, but he wasn’t quick enough. She glimpsed naked women on the cover, and that could only mean one thing.
“Playboys,” he said, throwing a blanket over them. “How uncharacteristic of me.”
“I’m sure.”
He started up the car, and they took off.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Do I turn here?”
“No, keep going straight.”
“I turn left up there, though, right?”
“No, you turn right.”
Michael knew where they were headed before they even got there, but the enormity of it all didn’t sink in until he started driving down Rosen Street. It was by far the nicest street in all of Roswell. The houses there looked like they belonged in Malibu. They were that nice.
Every day when he drove himself home from school, he took virtually the exact opposite route. He turned and turned again until he was flying past lines of houses in shambles, and then he pulled into the driveway of the crappiest one of all, his house. Maria didn’t live like he did. They were so different, yet they were so very much alike, and they were clicking fast.
“It’s that one there,” she told him, pointing to a gigantic brick house. It looked like a mansion to Michael, and at first glance, he thought he was seeing double. Could that really be just one house?
“Are you sure?” he said. “The one with the columns?”
“That’s the one.”
He pulled the car up to the curb slowly, never taking his eyes off the structure. This was definitely the nicest house around. He could only imagine how much it had cost. Probably more money than he would ever make in a lifetime.
“Wow,” he remarked, shutting off the car. “That’s . . .” He trailed off and started laughing, wondering why he had been picturing a normal sized-house at first. This was the Benz girl, after all. Nice car, nice house. It all added up to a pretty nice dossier.
“It’s not as nice on the inside,” she told him. “Really.”
“It’s not, huh?” He had a hard time believing that.
She gave him a sheepish look. “It’s nicer.”
He chuckled. “Man, I don’t live like this.”
“Chalk it all up to my dad being so angry and opinionated,” Maria told him. “Must haves for a rich lawyer.”
“It’s really nice,” he told her.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “It’s the one good thing about living in Roswell.”
He couldn’t help but let that resonate. “One good thing?”
“Well, one of the few good things,” she amended. “I should probably--”
“Go now, yeah,” he filled in. “Hey, if you ever need a ride again, just ask.”
“Okay, thanks,” she said, reaching for the door handle. She made no effort to get out of the car, though. He didn’t understand.
At last, she turned to face him again, smiling a little. “You know, it doesn’t look like my parents are home. I don’t see my mom’s car, and I know my dad’s at work, so . . .”
“So . . .”
“So you can come in if you want,” she offered, “just to see the place. Unless you have something better to do.”
“No,” he replied a little too quickly. “Uh, I mean . . . well, if I rearrange that and switch that to the next day . . . yep, I can pencil you in.”
“Alright,” she said. “Come on.” She opened the car door and stepped outside then. He took a moment to appreciate this opportunity and finally got out of the car and followed her inside. From the moment she opened the door, he was in shock.
He stood on the outside for a few seconds, looking in. The gigantic great room looked as though it belonged in a palace, not a home, and the furniture in itself looked like it had cost a fortune. The newest appliances were set up in the kitchen, and the most comfortable couches were situated in the living room. There was even a flat-screen television above the fireplace. Everything was so neat and orderly, just the opposite of his house. He couldn’t keep his mouth from gaping as he looked around. Now this was living.
“You can come in,” she told him, noticing that he was still just standing there.
“Oh,” he said, stepping forward like an idiot. He set foot on the welcoming mat and through his hands up in the air triumphantly. “Foreign boy walks into the house, no sex change necessary.”
She laughed. “It’s not half bad here with my dad gone.”
He closed the door, making sure to wipe his feet on the mat. “This is really nice, Maria. I can’t even imagine living in a place like this.”
“Oh, come on, I’m sure your house isn’t that much different.”
“No, it is,” he assured her. “Think of my car as an indication.”
“Honda’s are reliable, though.”
“Yeah, but there’s a Honda, and then there’s a Benz. Get the picture?”
She wrinkled her forehead in concentration. “More of a blurry watercolor. You’ll have to show me your house sometime.”
“Oh, maybe,” he said, already knowing he wouldn’t. Nobody saw his house, not even Isabel and Alex.
“Sometime,” she repeated, tossing her books on the couch. “You wanna see the upstairs?”
The only word that registered with him was ‘upstairs,’ and he forced the wrong thoughts out of his mind. You’re friends, he kept reminding himself. You and Maria DeLuca are friends. Don’t try to make it into something more. ‘Something more’ always sucks.
“Michael?”
“What?” He realized he had been spacing off. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I’m just kinda in awe of this place.”
“Come upstairs,” she told him, already heading up. “I’ll show you my bedroom.”
“Your-your bedroom?” he stuttered.
“Yeah, it’s the nicest room in the house.”
“Oh, shit,” he muttered, trudging up the stairs behind her. He was afraid of the direction he wanted to take this in. Friends. Friends, friends, friends.
“Prepare to be amazed,” she said, pushing open her bedroom door. When he peeked inside, he was afraid he would never look away. She had an incredible room. It was spacious enough for all her things—and what things she had!—and he felt a sense of comfort wash over him the minute he stepped foot inside. Maria’s room. Comfortable. Cool.
“This is awesome,” he admired, looking around, letting his eyes linger on her huge bed only for a moment. When he caught sight of her bookshelf, his attention shifted elsewhere. “Are those all your CDs?”
“Yep,” she answered proudly. “What a collection, huh?”
He headed toward the bookshelf, entranced. “Without a doubt.” As he said that, his eyes caught sight of a CD by the group No Doubt. He held it up, smirking. “No Doubt.”
She laughed. “Yeah, that’s an okay one. I gotta say Hawthorne Heights is the best, though.”
“You like them?” He hadn’t expected that. He had to admit, he had expected her CD collection to be a bunch of pop CDs arranged in order of best computer-generated song. She was surprising him every day.
“They’re my favorite,” she said. “I can’t wait ‘til their sophomore album.”
“Oh, I know,” he agreed, still looking through the CDs. “I hope they don’t go through that sophomore slump like Marcy Playground did.”
“Oh god, their second album was awful. I have it stored away.”
“Where?”
“In storage. Where else?”
He chuckled. “You know, I always say you can tell everything about a girl by looking through her CD collection.”
“Really?” She seemed intrigued. “And what are my CDs saying about me?”
He looked up at her, wishing he hadn’t gotten himself into this. Now he was going to be forced to use adjectives and other descriptive stuff. He wasn’t good at that. No guys were. “Well,” he started, holding up a rock CD. “Story of the Year. Not exactly bubble-gum if you know what I mean. So you’ve got an edge, but . . .” He held up a Jimmy Eat World CD. “You know when to tone it down. And then . . .” He held up one last CD, a Britney Spears CD. “I don’t know what that’s about.”
“Seventh-grade year phase,” she explained. “I should put that in storage, too.”
He tossed it to her. “Go for it.”
Just then, Maria froze in place. “Wait, listen,” she said, straining to hear something. “Did you hear that?”
Michael tried to hear it, too, but he didn’t hear anything except for a car pulling into the driveway. A horrified feeling crossed over him as the thought crossed his mind. Except for a car pulling into the driveway.
“Oh my god, I think my mom’s home!” she shrieked.
“Well, shh,” he told her. “Don’t freak out about it.”
“No, you don’t understand! My life here is over! She’ll see you, she’ll tell my dad! Michael!”
“No, we’ll . . .” He searched around the room, wondering what he should do. He spied a tree branch outside next to the window. It was extremely close to the side of the house, and it looked pretty solid. He knew he could make it. “I’ll sneak out the window,” he volunteered. “On the tree.”
“On the tree?!”
“Shh!”
“You’re not climbing out on the tree,” she told him in a hushed whisper. “If you fall, there’s a lawsuit.”
“And your dad’s a lawyer. Deal with it.” He started to open up the window.
“No, Michael!” she cried. He could hear a trace of worry in her voice.
“No?” he echoed, abandoning the window idea for her sake. “Okay, so what do I do?”
“Hide,” she told him.
“Hide where?”
“The closet.” She immediately reconsidered. “No, not the closet. I have inappropriate clothes in there.”
“Really?” He wouldn’t mind getting a glimpse of those.
As she was contemplating, the front door opened, and the house filled with noise as a woman came home. She was singing out loudly, and her voice gradually grew louder. She’s coming upstairs, Michael realized. Without thinking, he dove onto the floor and crawled under the bed.
“Yes! Good, Michael!” Maria praised in a whisper.
The bed was low to the ground, so it was hard for him to fit. At last, he was able to roll over on his back and get his feet tucked under. He had just gotten completely hidden when Maria’s mother came into the room. She gasped. “Oh, Maria! What’re you doing home so early?”
“Early?” Maria resounded. “It’s after 4:00.”
“No,” her mother said. “It’s . . . oh my god, it is. Where did the time go?” She sighed. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I was supposed to pick you up at school. I completely forgot. I was at a gathering with some of the neighbors, you know. I told them I had to go, but they insisted that I stay, so I told myself, ‘Now Amy, you need to stay and socialize. It’s the only way you’ll make it.’ So I did. Oh, and they were serving the best tea, Maria. I just couldn’t tear myself away.”
“Well, it’s not really okay,” Maria said, “but I managed to get home, so just don’t let it happen again.”
“I’m sorry,” her mother, apparently Amy, repeated. “Say, how did you get home anyway?”
“How did I get home?”
Michael winced. Maria sounded nervous, as though she were going to freeze up. He hoped she wouldn’t. He didn’t want her to be having parental troubles on account of him.
Luckily, the pause was only momentary. “I walked,” she lied smoothly. “Wind in my hair, pavement at my feet . . . that was a fun time, let me tell you.”
Michael breathed a silent sigh of relief.
“Oh, well, that’s good for you,” Amy said. “In the future, catch a ride home with someone, though. There are some strange people around here.”
“Mmm, tell me about it.”
“There’s even a strange car parked right outside,” Amy said. “No one in it. It’s just sitting there, all blue and beat-up. Do you have any idea whose it is?”
Oh fuck, Michael thought. It’s mine. Keep it together, Maria.
“I have no idea,” she lied. “Well . . .”
“Well, now that you’re home, I was thinking about running to the store to pick up some items,” Amy said. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
“Not at all.”
Michael smiled. He wouldn’t mind, either.
“Okay, I’ll be off then,” Amy said. “Honey, I’m really sorry I forgot.”
“Okay,” Maria said. “Like I said, just don’t let it happen again. If it does, I just might be forced to get a ride home with a good-looking male.”
Michael had to stifle his laughter. He knew she was referring to him.
Amy giggled. “Oh, like that boy walking into school today. Wasn’t he something?”
“Bye, Mom.”
Amy seemed to understand the signal to clear out, because she left fast. “Bye, honey.” Once she had shut the door and had gone down the stairs, Michael began to crawl out from his hiding place under the bed, thankful to find that he wasn’t stuck. “Well, that was a close one,” he commented, getting to his knees and then to his feet. “She seems nice. Forgetful, but nice.”
“Yeah,” Maria said. “She’s . . . I don’t know. She just places more emphasis on being a wife than she does on being a mother.”
“Ah, it’s probably tough for her.”
“Yeah, but . . .” She set the Britney Spears CD down on the bed. “She’s getting me the new Ashlee Simpson CD for Christmas.”
“That Saturday Night Live girl?”
“In all her lip-synching glory.”
“Oh, that’s a hit and a half.”
Maria sighed. “I know. But whatever. There’s worse moms.” She walked over to her window, peering outside. “I think she’s gone now,” she announced. “Do you wanna go back downstairs? I could get you something to eat.”
“To eat?” he said nervously, immediately thinking about the way he usually “ate” with girls around. What would she think if she found out about him, about the way he used to be?
“Yeah, like a sandwich or something. Or we could try to get some tutoring done since no one’s home.”
“Tutoring,” he decided for the both of them. “Yeah, that’s . . . we should do that.”
“Okay,” she said, heading back out into the hallway. He followed her out of the room and down the stairs. Before she stepped off the bottom stair into the living room, though, she froze, gripping her hand down hard on the banister. He stopped behind her, wondering what the deal was. He was about to ask her if she was okay, but she spoke.
“You see that?” She motioned toward a picture of herself when she was younger with two people whom he assumed to be her parents.
“Yeah,” he said, studying the faces shown. Her mom was pretty, but her smile didn’t seem too happy. It almost looked forced. Her dad had a gruff look about him, and his eyes were challenging and menacing. His smile looked real, though, and he seemed strangely satisfied. Maria had just been a little girl when the picture was taken, and she looked the same as all little girls did: naive, vulnerable, innocent. She was beautiful, though, even back then.
“I was in sixth grade,” she told him. “That was when we still lived in Chicago. I thought I’d live there forever. I wanted to. I had friends. I had family. I even had boys who liked me.”
“Well, you probably still have that here.” He didn’t mention that he was one of those boys.
“Maybe, but . . .” She sighed and sat down on the bottom step, still looking at the photo. “I don’t understand. My dad, he . . . he always decides to move when I’m happy. Only when I’m happy. Is there something wrong with that? I mean, why shouldn’t I be happy? Is there a reason?”
He sat down beside her, surprised that she was opening up to him so much this early on in the friendship. “Everyone should be happy,” he told her. “You gotta be sad once in awhile, though, too. It makes the good times that much better.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s just . . . God, it’s not fair! I have done nothing but be the perfect daughter to him, and he freaks out on me all the time, and he belittles my friends and pushes them all away. You don’t even know how much sneaking around I had to do back in Denver just to be able to socialize with people, guys and girls. And I know that’s what I’ll have to do here, and I know he’ll find out eventually and put a stop to it like he always does, and we’ll just end up moving somewhere new again.”
“Hey, he’ll run out of places to move eventually. There’s only fifty states.”
She gave him a look. “That’s not funny.”
“Sorry,” he apologized. “Look, Maria, maybe you should talk to your dad about all this. It seems like there’s a lot of shit you wanna lay out on the line, but you’re sitting here telling me instead of him. I’m just a guy.”
“No, you’re not just a guy,” she said quietly. “You’re the only person who listens to me, Michael.”
“Oh, that’s ‘cause I took an active listening class,” he joked.
She laughed a little. He took comfort in the fact that she was at least happy around him.
“You know, I do understand, though,” he said. “You’re pissed at your dad. You should be. Trust me, I got daddy issues, too.”
“I don’t have issues,” she denied at once. “I have situations. I have circumstances. I do not have issues.”
“No, you have issues, but that’s alright.”
“I don’t!” she insisted. “Michael!”
He stared right into her deep green eyes, getting lost in her. He didn’t understand how all the other guys at school could see her merely as a piece of flesh. She was so much more than that.
She raised a skeptic eyebrow, keeping her eyes locked with his. “I think we might have the possibility to seriously annoy each other.”
He couldn’t keep the words from flying form his mouth. “Among other things.” Other things were possibilities at this point, too. He couldn’t block them out no matter how hard he tried. He could tone them down, yes, but eventually he was going to want to explore them.
She didn’t disagree. That had to be a good thing.
Michael was working hard on calculus, trying to remember what Maria had taught him about quadratic functions, when Kyle Valenti sat down in the commons beside him, interrupting him.
“Hey, there, Guerin,” he greeted cordially. “I see you’re trying out the studious look.”
Michael didn’t even look up from his paper. “What do you want, Valenti?”
“Oh, so many things,” Kyle sighed wistfully. “A house in the Hamptons, a new platinum watch. I’ll tell you, the list goes on and on; but what I want most of all is something you seem to have.”
“Stellar looks? Forget it. There’s no hope for you.”
Kyle chuckled as if they were friends. “No, I’ve got it covered in the looks department. It’s just . . . well, I can’t help but notice you’ve got yourself a new friend, a perky little blonde girl.”
This caught Michael’s attention. He lost all interest in calculus and looked up at Kyle. “Maria?”
“Yeah, that’s her name. She’s awfully cute, isn’t she?”
Michael didn’t like the thought of Kyle looking at Maria. He knew that almost every guy did, but something about Kyle . . . the guy couldn’t be trusted.
“Look, there she is now.” Kyle pointed down the hallway. Michael looked ahead and found Maria talking to Isabel by her locker. He tried not to let his eyes linger too long, but she looked so good. When he finally did tear his gaze away, he glanced back at Kyle and discovered that the other boy’s sights were still set on Maria. He had a disturbing look on his face, almost a hungry one.
“What about Maria?” Michael asked, though he already had a feeling where this is going.
Kyle shook his head, as if shaking inappropriate thoughts away. “Boy, that girl’s a fantasy in enough herself, isn’t she? She doesn’t even need the bunny ears.”
Michael thought about the Playboy magazines he had stashed away in his car, and he felt slightly sickened. Looking at those pictures meant that he was like Kyle in at least one way. It meant his old self wasn’t completely gone. It meant it never had been.
“What’s the deal with you two?” Kyle inquired. “You’ve been hanging out with her a lot.”
“It’s the third day of school. I wouldn’t say that’s a lot.”
“But it’s almost like you guys are friends or something.” Kyle gave him a disbelieving look. “I know that can’t be true, so tell me what the deal is.”
Michael was offended. “The deal? There is no deal. What makes you think I can’t be friends with a girl?”
“Oh, just the fact that you’re you,” Kyle said. “Don’t get me wrong, I respect you for all your conquests. I totally respect you. You’ve taken just about as many girls as I have. Just about. I mean, this time last year, you were outta control.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“But it wasn’t,” Kyle insisted. “Last year, my man. Now you want me to believe you’re just friends with this Mary chick?”
“Maria,” he corrected. “Maybe you should learn her name before you make a pass at her.”
“Hey, I’m not passing,” Kyle said, holding up his hands in defense. “I’m just . . . well, I’m interested. I think all guys are interested, yourself included.”
“She’s my friend.”
“But for how long? Seriously, dude, how long are you gonna let her hot, tight little body parade around in front of you before you just grab her and do her?”
“I’m not gonna do that.” But even as he said this, he didn’t know if it was true.
“Hey, if that’s your story, I’ll back you up,” Kyle offered. “But listen, if you hypothetically do pull one of your trademark use ‘em and lose ‘em moves, throw her to me when you’re done. I have a feeling she’d be a firecracker from behind.”
Michael didn’t like hearing him talk about Maria that way. His first thought was to let his temper get the best of him and tell Kyle off, maybe even adding in a little violence for effect, but he decided against it. That wouldn’t accomplish anything, so instead he warned, “Stay away from her.”
Kyle smirked. “Guerin, you may be high school royalty to all the brainless chicks here, but I know better than to listen to you. You’re all talk. You won’t hurt me. If I go after her, you won’t try to stop me, ‘cause you know you don’t have what it takes.”
Michael was quite certain he did when it came to Maria.
“But maybe I’ll be a good guy,” Kyle considered. “Maybe I’ll leave her alone. Maybe.” With a smug smile, he got up off the couch and left Michael alone considering what had transpired. So Kyle had a thing for Maria, and it wasn’t a romantic thing. That wasn’t good.
He looked back at Maria. She was waving goodbye to Isabel now and heading down the hallway. When she saw him, she smiled and pranced forward excitedly. “Hey,” she chirped, sitting down beside him. “How’s calculus going?”
“Uh, okay,” he said dumbly. He tried not to look at her, because he didn’t want to be like Kyle. He didn’t want to look at her and think about what a great body she had . . . even though she did have one . . . even though it was incredible.
He didn’t look.
She leaned closer to him. “Am I imagining things, or did I just see you talking to that creepy Kyle guy?”
“Oh, he was just bothering me.”
“About what?”
He couldn’t help it then. He brought his eyes up to look at her, and he was entranced. She really was a beautiful girl. She really did have a great body. She had a great personality, though, too. Why couldn’t any of these assholes see it?
“Michael?”
He thought about telling her what Kyle had said about her briefly, but the notion soon passed. She didn’t need to know. It would only make her uncomfortable and angry, and he didn’t want to be the one to bring that upon her. So he lied. “Football. He wants me to be on the football team.”
“Football, huh? Do you play?”
He shook his head. “No, but I’d probably kick ass.”
“Probably,” she agreed with a smile. “I bet Kyle’s an avid benchwarmer.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, he’s . . .” He stared into her eyes, not wanting to look away. He saw such innocence there, such vulnerability, much like he had seen in her sixth grade picture at her house. She didn’t deserve jerks like Kyle. “Try to stay away from him,” he told her out of nowhere. “He’s no good.”
“So I’ve gathered.”
“Just keep your distance from him.”
“Already doing it,” she informed him. “So do you think you’re gonna finish this assignment before class?”
He mentally shook himself out of his Maria DeLuca stupor and looked down at his paper again. He was a little over halfway done. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not really thinkin’ about math anymore.” He didn’t bother to tell her that he was only thinking about her, about protecting her from anyone who tried to get too close.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Well, that was the un-fun of the millennium,” Isabel remarked as she and Maria walked out of environmental science that day. “How great was that slide show, huh? This is a tree. This is another tree. Oh, look, over here. We have another tree.”
Maria laughed at her dead-on monotone impression of Mr. Abrams. “Don’t forget that last tree.”
“Oh, yeah, wouldn’t want that. I don’t even know why I’m taking that class. Alex isn’t even in there.”
“Either is Michael,” Maria said, surprised by how much she missed him just over one class period. “It’s a good class for me to take, though, if I wanna be a lawyer.”
“A lawyer, huh?” Isabel shrugged. “Didn’t picture that.”
“Most people don’t,” Maria said, striding along slowly beside Isabel. “That’s . . . that’s what I wanna do, though. It’s what I’m gonna do. I think.”
“Cool,” Isabel said, popping her gum loudly. “So, hey, you mentioned Michael a little bit ago.”
“Yeah?”
Isabel smiled. “You guys are so cute.”
“Cute? Well, we’re friends.”
“Sure you are.”
“No, we really are,” she insisted. “He’s a really cool guy.”
“Yeah, he is,” Isabel agreed, “and it’s obvious he thinks you’re a really cool girl.”
“Hence the friendliness.”
“Friendliness indeed,” Isabel exclaimed, slowing down to a snail’s pace. “Are you sure you guys aren’t hiding something more?”
“Positive.”
“But you’re attracted to him, right?”
Maria looked away, trying to conceal a blushing smile.
“I knew it!”
“Well, of course I’m attracted to him!” she said a little too loudly, throwing her hands up in the air. “He’s an attractive guy! All girls with eyes are attracted to him! Girls without eyes are attracted to him! My mom is! My grandma, if she was alive—God, rest her soul—would be attracted to him if she saw him! You know, I bet even guys are attracted to him!”
Isabel laughed. “Okay. Big check in the attraction column.”
“Of course I’m attracted to him,” Maria muttered under her breath. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“If you say so,” Isabel said. “Oh, look, there he is now. I’ll just leave you two alone.” She grinned as she stressed the last word and disappeared down a crowded hallway before Maria had a chance to stop her.
“Hey,” Michael greeted, stepping up beside her. “Are you and Isabel still doing that chick bonding thing?”
Maria gazed up at him, feeling lost in his eyes. He was definitely the hottest guy she had ever associated with. Okay, the hottest guy she had ever laid eyes on. Ever. Of course I’m attracted to him, she kept telling herself. But a tiny part of her was beginning to wonder if Isabel was seeing something she wasn’t.
“You okay?” he asked her when she didn’t answer him.
“Yeah,” she said. “Uh, we were actually just talking about you.”
“About my sexiness, right? ‘Cause everyone is.”
She laughed. “Yeah, we were actually. I was saying I think even guys are attracted to you.”
“Some are,” he admitted without shame. “See that guy over there?” He pointed to a scrawny kid with glasses hurrying down the hallway. “That’s Gordon Armstrong. Yeah, he’s on the path of curvature.”
She gave him a confused look.
“He’s a queer.”
“Oh,” she said. “Path of . . . got it. Opposite of straight.”
“He even asked me out on a date last Valentine’s Day,” Michael went on. “It was creepy. I completely passed.”
“Poor Gordon.”
“Hey, poor me,” he said. “Do you know how disturbing that is for a guy? All I can say is his gay-dar’s malfunctioning. He should check out Billy Darden instead. I’ve been saying that guy’s a fag for years.”
She gave him a look. “Michael, that’s not nice.”
“What? I’m into chicks, not dicks.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, damn your good looks!”
“I know. It’s my cross to bear.” He shook his head. “What’s yours? Your dad?”
His accuracy astonished her. How could he know her so well already? She hadn’t thought it would be possible. “Him, yeah,” she admitted, “and also my good looks.”
He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Oh, yeah. We’re like models, only better.”
She laughed loudly and followed him down the hallway.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria found that she didn’t detest the Crashdown Café nearly as much when she was there with Michael. No horny guys dared come up and talk to her with him sitting across the table from her. They didn’t even look at her. Hanging out with a tough, hot senior had its advantages.
The Crashdown was also a great place for tutoring. Although it was very busy and very smelly, it was somewhere her parents would never go. Her mom was totally against anything greasy and high calorie, and her dad felt as though he were above fast food. She had no worries about them finding her and Michael in there. It was absolutely perfect.
“I think I’m getting this,” Michael said rather gleefully as he worked out another problem. “How whacked is that?”
“It’s easy, isn’t it?” She smiled as she watched him work. He had put in a lot of effort these past two days, and it showed. He was now completing the problems a lot faster and, most importantly, correctly. She felt proud of him.
“Yeah, it’s friggin’ easy. You just multiply by the derivative. Shit, listen to me; I sound like Alex.”
“You sound cool,” she assured him, “in that geek-like calculus way, you know.”
“Funny. Okay, tell me if this is right.” He turned his book and notebook around so that it was facing her, and she looked over the problem and smiled. “Yeah, you got it. Just make sure you make your answer negative.”
“Crap,” he muttered, taking the book back. “Negative, positive . . . it’s all pretty much the same thing, don’t you think?”
She shook her head. “No, considering that they’re on opposite ends of the number line.”
“Yeah, I never learned that number line crap.”
“I’m sure you did. You just did that selective forgetting thing people are so good at.”
He posed a look of question. “Selective forgetting?”
“Or some people call it selective memory. Basically, it’s remembering what you wanna remember and forgetting what you wanna forget.”
“Huh,” he said. “You’re really smart.”
“So are you,” she told him. “You just gotta put in the effort, Michael. I mean, look at you, you’re kicking ass on this assignment.”
He grinned. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“Oh, please, I’ve heard you say ten times worse ten times more.”
“True, but I can blame my dad for that. He says swearing’s his native language.”
Maria hadn’t given much thought to Michael’s father, but the more he revealed about him, the more she didn’t like him. All she knew was that he was between jobs constantly, a swearer, and that Michael had self-admitted “daddy issues” with him. She wanted to know more, but she decided not to probe. That would come later when he was ready to tell her.
“So, I think I’m done for today,” he announced, starting to shut his book.
She placed her hand on his and stopped him before closing it before he did. “Uh-uh. You’ve still got three problems left.”
He groaned. “That’s hardly anything.”
“But it’s something,” she pointed out. “A good tutor teaches discipline.”
“Enter Mr. Jones.”
“Shut up!” She smacked him on the shoulder. “Listen, we’re not leaving until you get this done. It’ll go fast.”
He picked up his pencil and started jotting down the next problem. “And after?” he mumbled.
“After?” she echoed. “After what?”
He looked up at her, a smirk playing at his lips. “After I get done. Then what do we do?”
She wondered what he wanted to do. Was he in to her? Was he as attracted to her as she was to him? She couldn’t tell. “After,” she replied, “I’ll ask you to take me out to the Ballroom.”
He set his pencil down and looked at her. “Tonight?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Why not? It’s Friday.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “What’re you gonna tell your parents, though?”
“Oh, I already told them I was tutoring Isabel tonight,” she informed him. “I told them Isabel and I might be studying late, so they won’t wonder where I am.”
“Crafty,” he commented. “You have done this before.”
She nodded shamefully. “Yeah. And the sad thing is, my parents have no idea.”
“Blind leading the blind.”
“Exactly.” She sighed. “Whatever. It’s my dad’s fault. If it wasn’t for him . . .” She shook her head, not wanting to be thinking about him while she was here with Michael. “Anyway, I just gotta go to a club tonight, Michael. I haven’t gone dancing since Denver, and that was practically a month ago. It’s so hazardous to my health. I’m probably getting fat.”
He chuckled. “‘Cause you’re not dancing?”
“Well, and ‘cause I’m sitting in this pig-sty.”
He picked up his pencil again. “We can go,” he told her. “I don’t dance, though, okay?”
“What?” For some reason, she had always pictured Michael as the great dancing type.
“I don’t,” he repeated. “It just . . . it doesn’t happen. Except when I’m drunk.”
She didn’t like hearing him say that. “You get drunk?”
He bit his bottom lip as if he regretted saying that, but he moved past it quickly. “So you don’t mind if I just sit there, right?”
“Uh, no,” she said, trying to forget about the drinking remark as well. “I just wanna go. Plus, you totally owe it to me. We had that deal, remember? You take me to the Ballroom; I let you see my CD collection. Well, you already looked at my CDs. I’d say it’s about time I got my dancing shoes on.”
“You have shoes?”
“Only metaphorical ones.”
“Right.” He nodded slightly. “I should probably study English, too, huh?”
She smiled. She wouldn’t mind teaching him.
Michael couldn’t help but smile as he watched Maria’s reaction to the Ballroom when she first saw it. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out.
“It’s not a bad place,” he said as he whipped into an empty parking space near the front. “The music’s crap, but that’s what people listen to nowadays.”
“Uh-huh,” she said dazedly. “Michael, are you sure this is it?”
He turned off the car and joked, “Just let me cross-reference with the other guy who’s lived here all his life.”
A pleasant smile pulled at her lips. “Oh my god, Michael. I didn’t even know this was here. How is this here in Roswell?”
“There’s lots of decent stuff in Roswell,” he told her. “You just gotta know where to find it.”
She gazed ahead at the club, her eyes fixated on the bright pink neon sign. “It almost feels like I’m back in Denver, back where the fun is, you know.”
He couldn’t help but feel a little offended by that. “Hey, haven’t we been having fun this week?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Total fun having, but when I’m not hanging out with you, I get all bored.”
“Well, we’ll just have to make sure we’re always hanging out, then,” he told her. “Wouldn’t suck.”
“Definitely wouldn’t,” she agreed, her voice low and full of desire. She was definitely attractive to him. That worked out well, because he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
“Let’s go,” he said, getting out of the car.
As they walked down to the very end of the long line of kids waiting to go inside, he slipped his arm around her. She looked up at him when he did and asked, “What’re you doing?”
“Nothing,” he answered. “There’s just some kinda strange people here sometimes. I don’t want ‘em messing with you.” That was true—it really was—but the simple pleasure of touching her was a major motivation as well.
He paid for both their admissions into the club and guided her inside, still keeping a protective arm wrapped around her. He hoped all the other guys got the message.
“It’s really nice,” she commented, looking around. “Is that a stage? Is there karaoke here?”
“Every other night.”
She nodded excitedly. “I might have to try that out sometime.”
He hoped she would. He had heard things about her voice from people in the choir, and he couldn’t wait to hear her sing.
“My dad would freak if he knew I was here,” she said, still looking over the place. “It seems like these people are kinda beer happy.”
“Yeah.”
She moved out from under his arm then and looked up at him questioningly. “You’re not gonna drink, are you? ‘Cause, you know, you are my designated driver.”
“No, I . . .” He really wished he hadn’t said anything about being drunk back at the Crashdown. Maria wasn’t the type of girl who binged on things like that, and he didn’t want her to think he was, either. “Listen, when I said I get drunk . . . okay, that’s true. I do sometimes. Just once in awhile, though. Hardly ever, really. But sometimes when I go party, I have more than a few drinks, and it’s not good; I know. But I don’t ever drive when I’m like that, and like I said, I don’t do it very much.”
“You shouldn’t do it at all,” she told him. “I realize I sound more like a mother than a teenager right now, but it’s just not worth it.”
“If you want me to drop it, I will,” he offered. At this point, he would do anything for her. “You want me to? I won’t drink tonight. I won’t drink any other night.”
“At least not when I’m around,” she added in. “I’d really appreciate that.”
“Done deal,” he told her. “And don’t worry, you don’t sound like a mother. You sound smart again.”
She laughed. “Good to know. Every girl’s worst fear is sounding like her . . .” She trailed off suddenly when a new song started to play, a remake of Cheap Tricks “I Want You to Want Me.” “Oh my god!” she exclaimed. “I hate this song! You wanna go dance?”
He laughed. The girl loved to dance.
“Oh, that’s right,” she said. “I forgot, you don’t. Well, you know what? I think I’m gonna go dance a little bit. Are you gonna get a table?”
“Yeah, I’ll go sit at that one,” he told her, motioning to a table for two along the left side wall. “Have fun.”
She smiled and bounced off into the crowd, already moving to the beat.
He pushed his way through the throng of dancing bodies over to the empty table and sat down in a chair. He searched for her among the dancers, but there were so many people. He couldn’t find her at first. Soon enough, though, the crowd split as though by fate, and she came into his view. She was dancing wildly to the beat, moving her hips and shaking her arms like a maniac. Eventually, other people starting catching onto her manic movements, and they joined her. Within merely seconds, she was dancing with a big group of girls, and she looked as though she were having so much fun. She was a smiling a huge smile and laughing so loudly that he could hear her all the way over at the table. As he watched her, it occurred to him that he had never seen something so crazy and beautiful in all his life before.
It wasn’t until the second round of the chorus that she turned to him and met his eyes. She watched him watching her and started putting on a show. Her movements went from manic to sultry, from wild to sexy. She lip-synched the words, and he thought he might go insane.
“I want you to want me.”
“I need you to need me.”
“I love you to--”
The show ended abruptly when she bumped into someone behind her. He watched as she turned around and saw Kyle Valenti. He said something to her—probably an invitation to dance—but she shook her head and started walking toward the table. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him, though, beginning to dance. Michael wasn’t sure if he was asking her to or forcing her to. With all he knew about Kyle, he would bet his money on forcing. This was one guy who didn’t get the arm around the shoulders hint.
Michael wasted no time. He got up from the table and headed out to the dance floor just as Kyle’s movements became more daring.
“No,” he heard Maria saying. “Stop. I don’t wanna dance.”
Michael pushed him away just as he was attempting to grind himself into her. Kyle stumbled back with a surprised look, and his eyes then filled with contempt when he saw Michael. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Leave her alone,” he ordered with an angry stare. “She doesn’t wanna dance. Not with you, anyway.” He placed his arms in the curve of Maria’s waist then and began to move to the music. Kyle got the point and resigned to walking away.
Maria moved closer to him, hooking her arms around his neck. “I thought you didn’t dance.”
He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Just this once.” But in his heart, he knew he there would be many more times with this girl. Many more.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Mmm, get these off,” Isabel murmured against Alex’s lips as her fingers worked expertly at his jeans.
“Bad pants.”
“Bad pants,” she agreed with a giggle. She was just about to slide them down his legs when the phone rang. She stopped what she was doing and groaned, wishing no one would interrupt the moment.
“Don’t get it,” Alex said.
She was already moving off of him and reaching over for the phone. “I’ll make it quick.” She didn’t bother to hide her annoyance when she answered the phone. “What?”
“Um, hi. This is Amy DeLuca. Is this the Evans residence?”
“Yeah,” Isabel said, confused as to why this woman would be calling. “Wait, DeLuca? Oh, are you Maria’s mom?”
“Yes, I am. Are you Isabel?”
“Yeah. How do you know--”
“Well, Maria’s mentioned you,” Amy explained before Isabel could even finish asking. “She said she’d be over at your house tonight studying or tutoring or something. She said you were having problems in calculus and she was going to be helping you.”
Isabel was utterly confused. “But I don’t take--” She stopped herself abruptly when a realization dawned on her. Maria was using her as a cover-up. She was obviously somewhere else, probably with someone else. Probably with Michael.
Isabel quickly recovered, hoping Maria’s mother hadn’t caught on already. “No, I do take calculus. I keep thinking I’m still taking trig like last year.” She laughed nervously.
“Oh, I’m sure that’s quite common,” Amy assured her. “So is Maria around? I’d like to talk to her.”
“Oh, she’s just . . . she’s in the bathroom right now. Is there anything I can tell her for you?”
“Oh, not really. Uh, just tell her I called.”
“Any reason why?”
“Oh, I was just checking in. I’m a checker.” She laughed. “You know how us mothers are.”
“Yeah,” Isabel said, trying not to be distracted by the way Alex was massaging the inside of her thigh. “Okay, I’ll let her know. Bye, Mrs. DeLuca.”
“Bye.”
Isabel hung up the phone in a hurry, eager to get out of that conversation. Lying always sucked, even when it was necessary.
“Glad that’s over with,” Alex said, slipping his hand between her legs. “Now what were we doing?”
“Just a minute,” Isabel said, removing his hand. “That was Maria’s mom. Maria told her she’d be over here tonight studying.”
“And?”
“And she’s so not. Obviously. So I just lied through my teeth. To my friend’s mother.”
“Oh.” Alex furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. “Why would Maria lie to her mom? That doesn’t seem like her.”
Isabel shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve only known the girl for a week. I’ll ask her about it tomorrow, I guess.” She sighed. “God, that was just weird, you know, lying to this woman I’ve never even met.”
“I bet,” Alex said. “Hey, do you think Maria’s out with Michael?”
“Probably. I wonder what they’re doing.”
Alex grinned, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Probably the same thing we are.” And then he pulled her down on top of him again.
“Oh-ho-ho! Alex!”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“You know, you’re a good dancer. You should get out there and shake your groove thing more often.”
Michael laughed just thinking about it. “I don’t know. I probably looked like a freak.”
“No, you looked hot,” Maria assured him.
“Always do.”
“Plus, you saved me from creepy Kyle.” She shuddered over-exaggeratedly. “Ugh, he has slimy hands.”
He wished he could joke about Kyle, but he couldn’t. As far as he knew, the guy was just an over-the-top pervert, but there could be more to him than that. He might be capable of turning to extremes to get laid, and Michael wasn’t going to take any chances with Maria.
Maria held up her glass of root-beer and said, “Cheers.”
He held up his and tapped it against hers. “To what?”
“To a fun night,” she said, taking a sip. “First fun night I’ve had since I’ve been here.”
“I’m glad you’re having fun,” he told her. “My mission in life: give you pleasure.”
She burst out laughing. “Oh my god, Kyle would say the same thing!”
That alarmed him, and an immediate panic arose within him. “No, I didn’t mean . . .”
“I know. You’re nothing like Kyle. I was just joking. God, what is with this music?”
He relaxed then, and fell back into the rhythm of their friendship. “I don’t know. It sucks. But besides the music, this place is this shit, isn’t it?”
“Sure. Whatever ‘the shit’ is.” She took another sip of her drink. “At least people actually dance here. Back in Denver, my friends and I were the only ones who would hit the floor. We still had fun, though.”
“Wait, you mean Roswell actually has one-up on Denver?”
“Just dancing-wise,” she told him. “Well, and Michael-wise. There was no one like you back there.”
“Oh, stop it. You’re making me blush.”
“Yeah, right!” She was actually the one to blsuh. “Oh, you know what else I like about this place? The stage. I’m gonna get up there and sing sometime.”
“Yeah, that’s what you said.” As he sat there and watched her, an idea occurred to him, and he couldn’t help but voice it. “How ‘bout right now?”
“Right now?” she shrieked. “I’m not gonna sing tonight.”
“You should,” he encouraged. “No one else is. Besides, we already established the music crisis here. You gotta show these dip-shits what real tunes are.”
“Oh, yeah, I can just picture me getting up there and belting out some Nirvana classic. I bet everyone here would run outside crying, ‘oh, that’s not Lindsay Lohan!’ They’re only into that pop princess crap.”
“So sing a lame song,” he suggested.
“A lame song?”
“Yeah. They’ll like it.”
“But I won’t.”
“But I dare you.”
“You dare me?” she resounded. “No, Michael, I can’t. I’m not even rehearsed.”
“But isn’t karaoke supposed to be spontaneous?”
She set her glass down on the table and gave him a look. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You want me to sing.”
“Yeah,” he admitted, “and I dare you to sing. Gotta do it now.”
“I can’t,” she insisted again. “I don’t know any lame songs, Michael.”
“Sure you do. I saw Britney Spears albums in the collection, remember.”
She groaned. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”
“Come on,” he urged. “People say you sing good.”
“Sing well,” she corrected, “and ‘people’ haven’t even heard me sing.”
“The choir freaks have.”
“Oh.” She bit her bottom lip. “Yeah, they kinda have. Wait, did you just say ‘choir freaks?’”
He laughed. “Oh, I got you enraged. Now you’re definitely gonna do it.”
“You’re damn right I’m gonna,” she said, rising from her chair. “You encouraged me, you dared me, and you pulled out the name-calling card. I gotta show off now.”
“Alright,” he said. “Sing a lame song. Make it sound cool. It’ll be like a test.”
“A test. Ooh, that falls under the fun category for sure.”
“I’ll dance with you some more after you get done,” he promised.
“Hmm, now that really is fun.” She grinned and left the table. He watched as she walked over to the bar-tender and asked him about karaoke. He referred her to a man in a khaki suit. He went in the back, came out a short time later, and handed her a book of songs that was practically the size of the Bible, and she began to scan through quickly. She looked back up at Michael when she had found one with a mischievous smirk on her face and mouthed, “Lame song.”
He laughed inwardly. This should be interesting.
A few minutes later, she took the stage. The crowd fell almost completely silent when she did. Guys stared up at her in awe, and girls stared up at her in jealously. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, Michael thought, noticing a dork in glasses making an overtly sexual gesture at her. He was about to run up there and tell her to back out while she was still ahead, but then she spoke into the microphone.
“Hey, guys,” she said. “Most of you don’t know me. If you’re a guy, you probably like me. If you’re a girl . . . well, you probably don’t. I get that a lot.”
The crowd laughed. Michael relaxed and sat back in his seat. The need to take care of her had already passed. She could handle herself.
“My name’s Maria,” she continued, “and I like to sing. I actually wasn’t planning on singing anything tonight, but he-who-shall-remain-nameless put me up here on a dare so . . .” She cast a sideways glance at Michael. “I don’t really like the song I’m gonna sing. Quite honestly, I hate it, but it seems like something you guys might like. No offense.”
Michael smiled as he watched her. This girl had guts. He had figured that out the moment he had first seen her. The more he got to know her, though, the more daring she became.
“I’m gonna sing a song by Hilary Duff. You guys remember her, right? She’s that girl on that show. She’s in all those movies. She had, like, one big musical hit. No? Well, I’m gonna sing one of her songs. It’s called Underneath this Smile. I hope you guys realize Hawthorne Heights is way better. Enjoy.”
The music started to play, and she started moving around a little to the beat. “Oh, don’t worry,” she spoke before singing. “I’ll totally give you guys autographs when I’m famous.”
Michael laughed out loud and then listened intently as she began to sing.
“What I’m standing on is sinking in
And I don’t have a clue how to get off of it
But when I look at you there is hope
It’s like you see the sadness in my eyes
You read the blue between the lines
You could be the one to hold me when I wanna cry . . .”
From the moment she hit the first note, he felt captivated. It wasn’t as though the lyrics were extremely moving. It wasn’t as though the music was at all exhilarating. It was all in the way she sang it. She sang with a quiet desperation, one that he picked up on right from the start.
“Underneath this smile
My world is slowly caving in
All the while
I’m hanging on
‘Cause that is all I know
Could you be the one to save me
From every bad habit that has helped me dig this hole?
I’ve been hiding out for miles
Underneath this smile . . .”
She moved around the stage like a true performer, singing to everyone at once, working the crowd in every way she knew how. She sang the chorus loudly, powerfully, and if there was anyone in the room who wasn’t listening before, they were definitely listening now.
“I have walked this earth with broken bones
I’ve been keeping secrets under all these lights
But when you’re around my defenses go
You don’t let me run away from you
You don’t let me twist and turn the truth
It feels as if I’m naked when you’re standing in the room . . .”
Men hollered and applauded ferociously when she sang of being ‘naked,’ but they didn’t understand that the meaning wasn’t physical. Michael did. He gazed at her, and he felt what she was singing. He felt the truth. Most of all, he wondered if he could ever be the one she felt naked around. He wanted to be.
“Underneath this smile
My world is slowly caving in
All the while
I’m hanging on
Instead of letting go
Could you be the one to save me
From every bad habit that has helped me dig this hole?
I’ve been hiding out for miles
Underneath this smile . . .”
She was amazing. She didn’t just get just get up there and sing. She got up there and lived. It was so obvious she belonged up there. Why was she thinking about law when she had a talent like this?
“Oh, yeah
Underneath this smile!
Yeah
Oh, yeah . . .”
He knew it was because of her father. He didn’t want her to sing. He didn’t want her to be around the opposite sex. He didn’t want her to do so many things. Why not? Why did he prevent her? Why did he imprison her this way? Michael suddenly felt the uncontrollable need to help her break free.
“Underneath this smile
My world is slowly caving in
All the while
I’m hanging on
Instead of letting go
Could you be the one to save me
From every bad habit that has helped me dig this hole?
Underneath this smile!
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Could you be, the one to save me
From every bad habit that has helped me dig this hole?
I’ve been hiding out for miles
Underneath this
Underneath this
Underneath this smile
Oh . . .”
He wanted to see what was underneath her smile.
“What I’m standing on is sinking in . . .”
Maria looked up from her calculus assignment during study hall the next day when she felt someone towering over. She met Isabel’s eyes and smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Isabel echoed, sitting down on the couch beside her. “So, I covered for you last night.”
Maria didn’t know what she was talking about. “What?”
“Remember how you were at my house ‘tutoring’ me in calculus? You know, that’s the class I don’t take.”
“My mom called you, didn’t she?” Maria guessed. “Or was it my dad? I bet it was my dad.”
“No, it was your mom. She said she was just checking in. I told her you were in the bathroom. She didn’t ask questions.”
Maria breathed an internal sigh of relief. “Thank you, Isabel. I’m so sorry I put you in that position.”
“Relax,” Isabel said. “I’ve been lying for my friends since sixth grade. All I ask is that you let me know I’m you’re cover story next time so I can be prepared.”
“Done,” Maria promised her.
“And one more thing,” Isabel added. “I wanna know why you’re lying to your mom in the first place, ‘cause you don’t seem like the type, and Alex and I were all curious.”
Maria sighed. “It’s Michael.”
“They don’t like Michael?”
“They haven’t actually met Michael.” Maria closed her book and looked down at her hands, feeling embarrassed. “I’m not paranoid, really. My dad just hates it when I hang out with guys.”
“Oh,” Isabel said. “My dad doesn’t like it, either—I’m his baby girl after all—but he’s gotten used to Alex over time. Parents have to give in sooner or later.”
“Yeah, but my dad’s a lawyer. Try arguing with him and see how it goes.”
“Oh,” Isabel repeated. “Yeah, you do have a point. He’s probably the real stubborn type.”
“Yeah, and my mom’s the real agreeable type. So do you see the problem here?”
Isabel laughed. “Yeah, it’s becoming blatantly apparent. Listen, I know you and Michael, like, need your time together, so I’ll cover again for you whenever you need me to.”
“Care to cover tonight? I hope you say yes, ‘cause I already kinda told my mom we were on for another tutoring session.”
“No problem,” Isabel said. “Alex and I are just gonna be hanging out at home, so . . .”
“And by hanging out you mean having sex.”
“No need to get technical.” Isabel blushed. “Okay, speaking of sex, though, how was this romantic evening you spent with Michael?”
Maria rolled her eyes, trying to hide her own blush. “Okay, first of all, it wasn’t romantic—we went clubbing. Second, I never had any intention of it being romantic, so it’s not like it was a date or anything. Third . . . how is this speaking of sex?”
Isabel shrugged. “You guys have gotten close fast. I’m just trying to keep up.”
“Well, slow down a little,” Maria told her. “Michael and I are just friends.”
“Just friends?” Isabel echoed in disbelief. “You mean he hasn’t even kissed you yet?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“No.”
“No?” Alex shrieked in disbelief. “No? You didn’t kiss her?! Are you insane, dude? She’s gonna think you’re not interested, and you obviously are interested, so do you see how that creates a problem?”
“There’s no problem,” Michael assured his friend. “She knows I like hanging out with her. She knows we have a good time. She doesn’t need to know anymore.”
“Okay, I agree,” Alex said. “The fact that you wanna do it with her . . . you better keep that one to yourself.”
“I don’t wanna--”
“Oh, shut up. Yes, you do. Now, the fact that you wanna kiss her on the other hand . . . let her know. Do it. Just . . . just dive right in, man. If you don’t, someone else is gonna, someone like Billy or Kyle, and then you’ll really be kicking yourself when they’re taking her to prom.”
“Maria’s smart enough not to fall for Billy or Kyle,” Michael told him. “Valenti was puttin’ his so-called moves on her last night, and she didn’t even consider it. Really, I don’t think I have to worry about anyone else. I mean, think about it. She’s been here awhile now. I haven’t even seen her talk to any other guys.”
“What about me? She’s talked to me.”
“Yeah, but you’re a thing. Isabel’s thing.”
Alex feigned offense.
“Joking.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Alex muttered. “Listen, Michael, I’m not trying to pressure you or anything. I’m just saying . . . hey, this is really unlike you.”
“What, being a good guy? That’s unlike me?”
“No, that’s not what I said. You’re twisting it all around.”
“I know what you mean,” Michael told him. “You’re not used to seeing me taking things slow and actually being respectful and thinking about something more than sex. Trust me, I’m not used to it, either.”
“I think it’s good,” Alex said. “Don’t get me wrong. Back when you doin’ girls every night, you weren’t so good. I think taking things slow with Maria’s a good idea. But let’s not go at a snail’s pace, alright? You guys are so obviously into each other. You’re probably gonna end up walking down the aisle before graduation.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
“Okay, I exaggerate. But, seriously, Guerin . . . you gotta give her something. Even if you don’t kiss her, you gotta show her you trust her. You gotta do something romantic. You gotta--”
Alex was cut off when Maria and Isabel stepped in front of them. “Hey, guys,” Isabel greeted. “Are you planning nuclear warfare or something?”
Alex glanced up at her, utterly confused. “Honey, what?”
“You looked deep in conversation,” she informed him. “Actually, Michael looked deep in listening mode.”
“Oh, I was,” he said. “Alex was just giving me some advice.”
“Oh, really?” Maria piped up. “On what?”
“School project,” Michael blurted.
“Which project?”
“Uh, this one for . . . photo journalism.”
Isabel laughed disbelievingly. “Uh-huh. Yeah. Since when do you need help with photography?”
“Since yesterday,” he lied. “Hey, Isabel, Alex, don’t you guys got that thing?”
“What thing?” Alex asked.
Michael gave him a look.
His friend understood immediately. “Oh, right. That thing. It’s a . . . big thing.”
“Is it sex?” Maria guessed.
Alex smiled like a goof and rose from the couch. “Quite possibly. Come on, Izzy.” He wrapped his arm around his girlfriend and lead her away from Michael and Maria and back down the hallway.
“It’s probably sex,” Michael agreed, rising to his feet. He stood in front of Maria, staring down into her beautiful green eyes, briefly thinking about how wonderful it would feel to kiss her. He contemplated planting one on her right there and then in the hallway, but it didn’t seem like the right time.
“What is it?” she asked him. “Do I have something in my teeth?”
Oh, shit, he thought. I was staring. “Uh, no. No, you . . . you look fine. Great, I mean.”
She smiled and blushed. “Thanks. I can always rely on you to boost my ego.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s me. Hey, so guess what? I got done with today’s calculus assignment last night.”
“Really?” She seemed surprised. “Wait, you did today’s yesterday?”
He nodded proudly. “Yeah. I crammed it in after we got back from the Ballroom. It was easy. It was just the same stuff you taught me how to do. I get it.”
“Well, good for you,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “My, how the tables have turned. I didn’t even get yesterday’s assignment done yesterday.”
He immediately felt guilty. “It’s ‘cause you were tutoring me, isn’t it? You spent too much time helping me, and you didn’t have enough time left over for yourself.”
“No, actually, it’s ‘cause I forced you to take me to the Ballroom. It’s not your fault, Michael.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” she repeated. “I don’t really care, anyway. Last night was so fun. I wouldn’t trade it for all the completed calculus in the world.”
“Good,” he said, “‘cause I wouldn’t, either.”
“I think the most fun was dancing with you and making Kyle jealous. What about for you? What was the most fun?” She tilted her head to the side curiously.
“Oh, pretty much all of it,” he replied. “I liked hearing you sing, though.”
“That crappy song?”
“Yeah, but . . . I don’t know, you made it kinda alright. Very alright. Awesome, really. I don’t think I really told you how much I liked it.”
“Well, it was a decent performance. I’ve had better.”
“Better?” He couldn’t even begin to imagine something better than that. The way she had sung, the power in her voice, the raw emotion . . . it was something he’d never forget.
“Yeah, I’ll sing a cool song sometime,” she told him. “Not tonight, though. I don’t think I should go clubbing two nights in a row. That kind of thing gets addictive.”
“Like drugs,” he chuckled. “Not that I’ve ever done drugs. Not that I ever will.”
“Relax,” Michael, she told him, running her hand up and down his arm. “I don’t understand why you’re always so tense.”
“Tense?” he echoed. “I’m not tense. I’m laid-back.”
“Okay, wrong word-choice,” she said. “Well, no, sometimes you are a little tense. It’s like, I joke around about you being like Kyle, and you get all serious and defensive.”
“I don’t mean to be defensive,” he said. “I just . . . I don’t wanna be like Kyle.”
“And you’re so not,” she assured him. “Listen, Michael, I have had so much fun hanging out with you—I actually wanna hang out again tonight if we have the chance—but I just get this really weird feeling that you’re hiding something from me.”
If only she knew all that he was hiding: a house on its last leg, a dead-beat father, a Kyle-like past, and an attraction to her. Would she really like hanging out with him so much if she knew what he had done, how he had lived?
“I’m not . . .” He started to lie, but it wasn’t easy. He didn’t want to lie to her. “Maria, there’s just some things I wanna keep to myself.”
“Okay, and I respect that, I do. It’s just . . .” She sighed. “I don’t know, Michael. I would like nothing more than to get to know you better and better each day, but I’m worried I won’t be able to, because you’ve got this barrier set up. I mean, think how much you know about me. Think how much I’ve told you. I don’t know as much about you. It hardly seems fair.”
He shifted his feet around nervously. “Well, life isn’t fair. Trust me, I know.”
She stared at him in silence for a few seconds, and then she bravely asked the question that he had been dreading to hear. “Michael, if we hang out tonight, can we go to your place?”
To your place. The words reverberated through his head. Why his place? Why did she ever have to go there? Why did she ever have to see?
“I don’t know,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s . . . Maria, I don’t know.”
“Please,” she said. “Michael, we’ve been friends for awhile now, and I don’t even know where you live. Come on, think about it. You know my whole parental issue story, but I don’t even know where you live!”
“You don’t want to,” he muttered. “Maria, let’s just go to the Crashdown or something.”
She sighed dejectedly. “Fine. Fine, we can go to the Crashdown. I just don’t know why you do this, Michael.” She lowered her voice and hung her head. “I wish you didn’t.”
He gazed down at her feeling terrified. Was he losing her? Was the barrier he had set up driving her away? He couldn’t risk not having her in his life. He needed her. He wanted her. If that meant showing her where and how he lived . . .
“Okay,” he choked out. “We can go to my place after school.”
She looked up with a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes. “Really?”
“Don’t get too excited.”
“I’m figuring out another piece of the Michael Guerin puzzle. How can I not get excited?” She giggled.
He knew she’d be humming a different tune soon enough. Way too soon.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael seemed upset the entire day. Maria tried her best to lift his spirits, but nothing seemed to work. He didn’t joke around much with her at all. He barely even talked. When he tried to act happy, it was only obvious how sad he really was. She didn’t know what to do to cheer him up.
It didn’t take much to figure out what his bad mood was all about. He had been that way ever since she had asked to go over to his house after school. She didn’t see why it was such a big deal. It didn’t matter if his house wasn’t as nice as hers was. She wasn’t expecting it to be. She just wanted to know where he lived so she could know at least something else about him.
She drove behind him after school, following him to his house. She became slightly confused when he started driving toward the nice streets. If he lived in a nice house, why was he embarrassed? Everything started to make sense, though, when he when he took a few turns she never usually took. She soon found herself driving on streets crowded with shacks in shambles.
She had been bracing herself for this, for the possibility that he might be very different from the friends she had acquired back in Denver and also very different from herself. She lived in a new, expansive brick house. He lived in . . . well, she wasn’t really sure what he lived in. She surveyed the exterior briefly as she parked alongside the curb. The screen door was hanging off its hinges, and several window shutters had fallen to the ground. The sickly brown paint was peeling, and the yard was a mass of overgrown weeds. It definitely wasn’t what she was accustomed to.
She snapped out of it when Michael tapped on her window. She grabbed her purse and opened the door, trying not to seem sympathetic. She didn’t think Michael wanted any sympathy. “Thanks for bringing me,” she said quietly as she shut the door.
He huffed. “Thanks?” He shook his head and started for the front door, motioning for him to follow her. She trailed behind hesitantly, wondering what on earth the inside could look like if the outside looked like this.
“Watch out for that step,” he cautioned, stepping over a board that had broken in two. “I gotta fix that one of these days.”
She found herself wondering if he ever would get it fixed. Did he have the money? Or did he fix it himself? Did he have the time for that?
“Enter at your own risk,” he mumbled, pushing open the door for her. He kicked some trash out of the way and headed inside. “Well, this is it.”
Maria stepped in and shut the screen door behind her. She looked around, trying not to be shocked even though she was. She had never stepped foot inside a house as untidy as this before. Trash and empty beer bottles and old newspapers were scattered everywhere. Unwashed dishes were piled high in the kitchen. An uneaten slice of cheesecake lay on a plate in the middle of the floor. A balding man sat slumped on the couch with the remote control in his hand.
“It sucks, doesn’t it?” Michael said, tapping a beer bottle absentmindedly with his foot. “I don’t clean; I let stuff go. I don’t cook; I order pizza. It always smells like a cat pissed in here, but we don’t have one. Oh, and that’s my dad.” He gestured to the man on the couch.
“I see,” Maria said. Not sure what else to say. “Um, hi, Mr. Guerin. I’m Maria DeLuca. I’m Michael’s friend.”
Michael shook his head. “He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what you’re saying.”
“I damn well do,” the man piped up in a gruff voice. He sat up straighter and extended his hand for a handshake. “Hello, there, doll-face. I’m Hank.”
She was about to shake his hand, but Michael reached out and stopped her. “Don’t touch him.”
“Why not?” she asked him.
“He’s like a little kid. You never know what he’s gotten into.”
Maria nodded slowly, thinking how awful it would be to have such a deadbeat father. She already knew exactly why Michael had issues with this man. Who wouldn’t?
“Got into Sonya this morning.” Hank chuckled.
“That’s his new girlfriend,” Michael explained, “but her name’s actually Sophia. He just calls her Sonya. You know, kinda like how Kyle calls you Mary.”
She shuddered just thinking about it. Michael’s father was like Kyle. No wonder Michael didn’t want to be compared to Kyle. He didn’t want to be like his dad.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Michael suggested, “so I can continue the grand tour. Well, not grand, but you know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly, still not sure what to think about this. She followed him up the rickety stairs silently, wondering if coming over here was such a good idea. Maybe I should have waited until we’d known each other longer, she contemplated. Although he’s trusting me enough to show me his home and he’s hardly known me over a week. I guess that’s a good thing. I guess he trusts me.
“This is my dad’s room,” Michael said, pointing to a door. “You never wanna go in there. It’s like a bar with way more beer than necessary.” He opened up the door adjacent to that room. “This is the guest room. It’s small and it’s crappy. Our friendly spiders live there.”
“Spiders?” she echoed.
“Yeah, and sometimes they bring along their little mouse friends. We’re thinking about charging them rent. Cute, isn’t it?”
She attempted a laugh, but it came out sounding more like a strangled cry.
Michael opened up a door at the end of the hallway. “Bathroom. I told you it smells like piss.” He closed that door hurriedly and opened up the one next to it. “Laundry room. As you can see, I haven’t done any laundry for awhile.”
Maria glanced down at the huge pile of clothes on the floor. That was going to take forever to do.
“That’s pretty much it,” he said. “How do you like it?”
She looked around, wondering where his room was. “Well, where do you sleep?” she asked him. “Don’t you have a bedroom?”
“Yeah. It’s around here somewhere. Sometimes it’s hard to find under all the rubble.”
“Where is it?” she asked. “Is it in there?” She pointed to the one door he hadn’t opened.
“Yep,” he said, reaching for the doorknob. “Wanna see?” He pulled open door and revealed a tiny grey room on the other side. It definitely wasn’t a bedroom at all. There wasn’t even a bed. There was just a set of pull-down stairs hanging down from the roof leading up to the attic.
“You sleep in here?” She couldn’t even attempt to hide her shock.
“No,” he said. “Up there. I’ll show you.” He stepped into the grey room and started up the ladder. It didn’t look too steady, but Maria followed him up anyway. He helped her up onto the third floor and onto her feet, and let her look around.
He had a huge bedroom, probably bigger than hers.
“Wow,” she exclaimed in a whisper, looking around. “This is nice, Michael.” And it really was. It was the only part of the house that was nice. Everything was arranged (for the most part) and clean. The floor was swept. The furniture was dusted. The bed was even made. His room wasn’t bad at all. She actually really liked it.
“I call it the loft,” he said, “‘cause that’s basically what it is.”
“Your loft,” she added. “That’s kinda cool.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t make up for the rest of the house.”
She glanced over her shoulder and saw a load of photography equipment stacked in the corner. She smiled. “I like it, Michael. Why weren’t you gonna show me?”
“Huh?”
“After you got done showing me the second floor, you said that was pretty much it. You weren’t even gonna show me your room. I had to ask.”
“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d wanna see anymore,” he explained, sauntering over toward his bed. “I actually didn’t even think you’d make it to the second floor.” He laughed, but it sounded forced.
“Why’s your room so different from the rest of the house?” she asked him. “It’s really nice. I mean really nice. Big. The rest of the house . . .well, you know, it’s less nice.”
“It’s crappy. You can say it.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t have time to do anything with the rest of the house. My room’s all I can manage.”
“But what about your dad? Can’t he help you?”
Michael chuckled sarcastically. “Yeah. Right. My dad stopped helping me the moment I was born.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. He pretty much told my mom to raise me. Then she left.”
“Left?”
“Killed herself,” he clarified. “Apparently living here was really unbearable for her.”
Maria felt a tightening in her chest. His mother had killed herself? She couldn’t believe he had gone through so much and turned out so well. “I’m sorry, Michael.”
“It’s alright. I didn’t even know her,” he said. “I was only two. So it’s been me and my dad forever. Oh, and whichever chick he’s boffing at the time, of course.”
She cringed. “Why do they go for him?”
“‘Cause they’re desperate.”
“I’d say very.”
He looked up at her with seriousness in his eyes. “Promise me you’ll never get like that, Maria. Promise me no matter what.”
“I promise.”
“Good,” he said. “And I promise you I’ll never be like my dad.”
She set her purse down on the floor and walked toward him. “I don’t think you have to worry about being like your dad, Michael.”
He down at the floor with a look of shame on his face. “No, I do.”
She reached down and ran her fingers through his hair. “Michael? Did you know I think you’re pretty amazing?”
He smiled a little. “Really?”
She nodded. “Really. It doesn’t matter where you live or how you live. It’s a house. It’s just . . . it’s nothing. What matters is who you are, and I like who you are.”
His smile grew steadily. “You do, huh?”
She nodded. “Really do.”
He reached out and placed a hand on her hip. His touch sent shivers up her spine. How could he do that?
“You wanna get outta here now?” he asked her.
She stared down into his beautiful brown eyes and replied, “No. I wanna stay.”
“Here? You wanna stay here?”
“Up here,” she clarified. “With you.”
He rubbed her hip gently, urging her closer. “Whatever you want.”
She wanted him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Tell me something.”
“I hate green beans.”
She gave him a look. “Something more.”
“What’s more than that? I really do hate green beans.”
Maria propped her head up on her hand and smiled up at Michael. He looked back down at her, wondering how he had ever gotten so lucky to befriend her. She really was the most utterly beautiful girl---woman---he had ever known.
Most utterly beautiful woman? What is this, spontaneous poetic recitation? he wondered to himself.
“Tell me something nobody else knows,” she prompted.
“You’ve seen where I live. Isn’t that enough?”
“It’s lots,” she agreed, “but I wanna know more. I can’t help it. I have all this involuntary curiosity. Tell me something.”
He sighed, thinking it over. “Something, huh? Something nobody else knows.”
“Yeah, like something about your past.”
He shook his head, dismissing it immediately. “You don’t wanna hear about my past.”
“Sure I do.”
“No, I have a stupid past.”
“Well, so do I. Take away all the moving and I’m just this average, boring girl.”
He smirked. “Nothing about you is average, Maria, and you could never be boring. Not even if you tried.”
“Uh, no, sixth grade year . . . pretty boring. The highlight there was whacking a pinata at my cousin’s Flo’s sixth birthday party.”
He chuckled. “Okay, well, that’s still better than hearing about my past.”
“Is not,” she said matter-of-factly. “Michael, if you don’t tell me something soon, I’m gonna fall asleep right here in this bed and not wake up until morning.”
He ran one hand over the comforter, mumbling, “Explain how that’s bad.”
“Well, I’d take up space,” she told him. “Maybe I snore. You don’t know.”
“Maybe I snore, too,” he put in. “You don’t know.”
“Right, I don’t, ‘cause you’re not telling me anything. Come on, Michael.” She put on her sexiest pout, and he couldn’t resist any longer. “Do you snore?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s a start.”
He sighed and gave in. “Fine, okay, I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
“Something nobody else knows?”
“Absolutely nobody.” He wet his lips and started in. “I’ll be nineteen in October.”
“Oh, really? Nineteen? Wow, that’s pretty old.”
“Yeah.”
She smiled innocently. “Now, I totally respect that you have an early birthday and all, but I was kinda looking for something a little deeper.”
“It’ll get deep. I promise,” he told her. “Alright, so I was six, and all my friends were starting kindergarten. Not that I had a lot of friends—I didn’t—but those I did have were moving from pre-school nap time to elementary snack time, you know?”
She nodded. “I was so excited to start kindergarten.”
“Yeah, so was I,” he said, “but . . . I didn’t.”
“You didn’t?” she echoed, confused. “Why not?”
“Well, when it came time for me and my dad to go meet with the principal and the superintendent . . . I remember they were giving me these real strange looks. I knew they didn’t like me. They kept saying all this stuff to my dad, but I didn’t understand any of it. When we got home, my dad told me I wasn’t gonna be going to school that year ‘cause I wasn’t smart enough yet.” He laughed, even though the memory was a painful one. “They didn’t want me in their school ‘cause they didn’t think I could hack it. They sent me to see a special educator, and she suggested I go to some special school, at least for a little while until they got me straightened out. That’s what she called it, straightened out. Isn’t that the gayest thing you’ve ever heard?”
Maria seemed shocked, but she was still inquisitive. “So you just didn’t start kindergarten at all?”
“I couldn’t,” he said. “I mean, if the public school wouldn’t take me---which is crap, by the way; they should’ve taken me---a private one sure as hell wouldn’t. And a special school . . . no. Besides, it’s not like we’ve ever had a lot of money. Public school was all my dad could afford, and he didn’t really care when they didn’t let me in. He just kinda shrugged it off and said, ‘oh, well, better luck next year.’”
“Wow,” Maria gasped. “So what happened the next year?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Stuff just started to click. I got to the point where I could read and write decently—decently for a kid, you know. So they let me in. They said I probably just needed an extra year to mature and that it wasn’t a big deal, but it felt kinda big. I don’t know. Hey, I told you I had a stupid past.”
“I wasn’t thinking literally. Not that you were stupid.”
“No, I was,” he said. “I don’t know what happened. It’s just . . . well, it was after my mom . . . you know, after she did what she did. But that’s no excuse. I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“Well, it doesn’t really matter,” she said. “I mean, look at you now. You’re even giving me a run for my money in calculus. And I tutored you!”
He laughed. “Anatomy’s another story. I’m failing with flying colors.”
She giggled. “I didn’t know you could fail that way.”
“Oh, you can fail lots of ways: miserably, pathetically, maybe just slightly. Or with flying colors like me.”
She lay back down on the bed, pulling the covers up around her. “I prefer passing.”
“Most people do.” He sighed. “It kinda seems like I was born to fail, though.”
She scrunched up her forehead in confusion. “Why would you say that, Michael?”
He shrugged. “Just ‘cause.”
She reached out and brushed her fingers over the top of his hand. “You’ve never failed me.”
“I’ve known you for two weeks,” he reminded her.
She smiled encouragingly and shrugged. “I still believe in you.”
His mind did a double take when she said that. His heart was still freaking out when he tried to speak. “Really?” The knowledge that someone out there had faith and confidence in him . . . well, it was nice to say the least. Nice and new.
“Really.”
“Thanks,” he said, clasping her hand tightly in his, enjoying the feeling of comfort that washed over him. “That means a lot.”
Maria was on her way to choir that day when Isabel and Alex caught up to her. “Hola, chica,” Isabel chirped.
“Oh, Isabel, you’re so bilingual,” Maria commented. “Congratulations.”
Isabel shrugged. “What can I say? I just got out of Spanish. We ate nachos. It was a great learning experience.”
“Hey,” Alex piped up, “I’ll take stuffing my face any day over some stupid assignment.”
“Me, too,” Isabel agreed. “No homework tonight is definitely a good thing.”
Maria stopped walking and gave her friends a questioning look. “Tonight? What’s tonight?”
“The fair,” Isabel replied. “So lame, but I can’t tear myself away. Can you believe it?”
“The fair?” Maria echoed. “Like the state fair?”
“Worse, county,” Isabel told her, making a face of disgust. “You and Michael are going, right?”
She thought about it and shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know there was a fair going on until just now.”
A look of shock crossed Alex’s face. “You mean he didn’t ask you to go?”
“He didn’t even mention it,” she told him. “I mean, I just came from calculus with him, but he didn’t say a word.”
“It’s ‘cause he’s against it,” Isabel said matter-of-factly. “He hardly ever goes. Actually, I think I recall him trying to organize a group to protest its lameness one time.”
Maria laughed. “That’s such a Michael thing to do.”
“Yeah,” Isabel agreed. “You know what else is so like him? Neglecting to take you along tonight, that’s what.”
“I don’t think I can go along if he’s not going, too.”
“Small detail,” Isabel said. “You guys are . . . friends or whatever. He should offer to take you at least.”
Maria shrugged it off. “Doesn’t matter to me.”
“Has he asked you to homecoming yet?”
Maria shook her head. Homecoming. She hadn’t even thought about that yet.
“Unbelievable!” Isabel shrieked. “I thought you said you were coaching him, Alex!”
“I was,” Alex said. “I am. We haven’t gotten to the homecoming lesson yet.”
Maria laughed inwardly at the thought of Alex coaching Michael. In any other school, it probably would have been the other way around. The geeky guy teaching the drop-dead gorgeous guy how to deal with women was just another example of how wacky Roswell really was.
Isabel huffed. “That boy needs a good talking to, I swear. Oh, look, here he comes now.”
Maria turned and watched as Michael shoved his way through a crowd of admiring girls. Maria didn’t understand why he would need any help in the romance department. It wasn’t as though he didn’t have options. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t a nice guy.
“Hey, guys,” Michael greeted. He smiled at Isabel and Alex and then looked down at Maria. “I forgot to give you your calculus notes back, so I . . .” He reached into his pocket and handed her notes back to her. “Here.”
“Thanks,” she said, slipping them into her calculus folder.
Isabel cleared her throat. “Apparently that’s not the only thing you forgot to do.”
“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “Homecoming’s on the horizon, my man.”
“And the stupid fair’s tonight,” Isabel added.
“Thanks for the subtle hints, guys,” Michael said. “I think I got it.”
“If you say so,” Isabel said. “Bell’s gonna ring. I’ll see you guys later.” She started off down the hallway.
Alex stared after her, already following. “As Isabel goes . . . See ya.”
“Bye,” Maria called, watching them go. “Oh, Isabel and Alex. Two of a kind.”
“Yeah, really,” Michael agreed. “So I take it you’ve heard about the lame-ass fair.”
She nodded. “Mmm-hmm. And Isabel mentioned some protest group you were trying to put together once.”
“Rumor,” he told her. “I was protesting green beans at lunch.”
“You really hate those things, don’t you?”
“With a fiery passion.” He chuckled and placed his arm around her. “Okay, so about the fair . . . it’s pretty boring. I’ve only gone a few times ‘cause it sucks so much.”
“Isabel and Alex are going, though.”
“Only ‘cause her parents are throwing a dinner party,” he said. “Only dinner parties are worse than the county fair.”
Maria laughed. “If it’s so bad, why do they have it?”
“It’s profitable,” he explained. “Every year, some stupid suckers get roped into going with pretty girls.”
She blushed. “You wouldn’t happen to be one of those suckers, would you?”
“I might be,” he admitted, “as long as you’re the pretty girl I go with.”
She had to look away from him, she was blushing so much.
“Listen,” he said, “I’ll go if you go. What do you say? You wanna go to the boring fair with me and have a really boring time together?”
“Hmm, a boring time.” She pretended to contemplate it. “I’ll think about it.”
He gave her a confused look. “You’ll think about it?”
She nodded and started off down the hallway, messing with him. Three seconds later, she spun back around and faced him. “Okay, I’ve thought about it. So let’s go.”
“You had me worried there,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“I know,” she said proudly. The bell rang just then.
“Shit,” he cursed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for you to be late to class.”
“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I’ll get a pass from the office. Now what time does this thing kick off tonight?”
He shrugged. “Probably around six or something,” he told her. “They have this dumb parade. It’s so stupid.”
She cringed. “Stupid parade . . . ix-nay. How ‘bout I show up at your place around 6:30 and then we head out.”
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll get there around 6:45 then.”
“Okay,” she said. “Oh, and you better drive up there, ‘cause I just ran over a rabbit yesterday.”
He laughed. “You know, I’m thinkin’ you need a Drivers’ Ed refresher course.”
She rolled her eyes and headed down the hallway to the office. “See you tonight!”
“See you,” he called after her. She smiled a giddy smile when she felt his eyes watching her as she walked away.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria slipped into her father’s office quietly that day, hoping that she wasn’t disturbing him. She found him hunched over his desk using a magnifying glass to examine someone’s signature. Sometimes she swore he was more detective than he was lawyer.
“Hey, Dad,” she spoke quietly. “This is a nice office.”
“What?” He jerked his head up and stared at her. “Oh, Maria. What’re you doing here? I thought I told you not to bother me when I’m at work.”
She wanted to start shouting off at the mouth but refrained when she remembered why she was here. She needed his permission. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I won’t take long. Um, listen, Dad, there’s this thing tonight.”
“Talk fast.”
She sighed, trying her best to hide her frustration with him. “Okay, there’s this fair. It’s the county fair. I wanna go. I know I’m not into livestock and crops and all that, but I’m thinking they won’t have a lot of that here. I mean, what’re they gonna do, judge for best cactus?”
He didn’t laugh.
“That was actually funny,” she mumbled. “So I wanna go, you know, to hang out with my friends and stuff.”
He was completely absorbed in his work. “Uh-huh.”
“Aren’t you gonna ask which friends? I mean, isn’t that what protective dads do?”
“Uh-huh.”
She rolled her eyes, annoyed. “Isabel and Alex will be there . . . and other people. Anyway, it should be pretty boring, but I was hoping I could go anyway.”
“Uh, sure,” he said.
“Sure? Just like that?” Even though her father was being inattentive, she hadn’t expected him to agree that easily.
“Sure,” he said again. “Listen, Maria, I’d love to chat, but I’m in the middle of something important here.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You’d think by now people would know enough to pay their taxes.”
“Taxes, right,” Maria said, already backing from the room. “So I’ll just be on my way now.”
“Good.”
She decided to ignore his parting phrase and left the office without another word.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Ah, shit.”
“Go, Michael!”
Michael cursed again when the ball fell into the ‘trot’ hole instead of the ‘gallop’ hole. “Fuck!”
Maria laughed. “Come on, Michael. You’re still in the lead.” She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and glanced up at the horses he and other contestants were racing.
“I’m losing the touch!” he shrieked. “It’s fuckin’ walking!”
“Just go, Michael!”
The guy manning the booth grabbed his microphone and let out a whooping holler. “Whoa, midway into the race and we’ve got a real competition! Will it be number nine?”
“Number nine!” Maria shouted, jumping up and down like an excited little girl. She couldn’t help it. She got so excited over trivial carnival games like this.
“Number nine’s been leading the entire way,” the announcer continued. “Oh, but here comes number seven. Here’s number seven. It’s number seven!”
“No!” Maria gripped down on Michael’s shoulder hard. “Go, Michael!”
Michael rolled the ball harder, landing it in the ‘gallop’ hole. He let out a victory cry and kept on going. “Oh, you’re goin’ down, Seven!” he roared. “I got my girl cheering for me.”
Maria giggled and kept jumping up and down. “Go, Michael! Faster! Go faster!”
He laughed. “Relax, it’s not sex.”
The young kid racing horse number seven heard this and looked up from the game. “What about sex?”
Michael used the kid’s distraction as a chance to surge ahead, and his horse raced across the finish line first. A bell sounded, and he threw his arms up in the air. “Yeah! Hell yeah!”
“Yea!” Maria chirped, hugging his shoulders. “God, I love this stuff!”
“Oh, I know,” he agreed. “It’s so much better than that basketball crap.”
Maria laughed heartily as the announcer handed Michael a pink stuffed rabbit. “Thanks,” Michael muttered. He handed it to Maria. “Here. To make up for the one you ran over yesterday.”
“Oh, shut up,” she said, taking the bunny from him. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Anything else I can win for you?”
“Ooh, cocky,” she remarked, leading him away from the booth. “You know what, Michael? You’ve gotten so good you think you’re invincible.”
“I am invincible,” he insisted, “as long as I don’t have to compete in any house-cleaning competition.”
She laughed. “Okay, so you’re not invincible.”
“So I’m not,” he agreed. “Seriously, though, I can win you something else. You name it.”
“Hmm.” She contemplated it, looking around the bustling fair grounds. There was so much to do, so many stupid things to see. She didn’t see how anyone could think this was boring. Of course, she reasoned, if I wasn’t here with Michael, I can see how the boring-ness might set in.
“Look, ducks,” Michael pointed out. “Over there, they have ducks. Oh, they’re not real, though. What the hell? They’re plastic. Plastic ducks.”
She giggled. “I don’t want ducks. Um—oh!—I know.”
“What?”
“Another bunny.”
“Another one? Baby, my arm’s still wiped out from that last round.” He shook his arm over exaggeratedly as if it were cramped.
Baby? her mind registered. Oh, that’s nice.
“Not a fake one,” she told him. “A real one. They’re around here somewhere.”
“A real one?” he echoed. “Wouldn’t your parents lose it if you brought home a pet?”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded excitedly. “It’s hysterical.”
He sighed and gave in. “Okay. Where are they?”
“I don’t know. It’d be easy if they left us a little trail of carrots.”
He gave her a look. “You know, sometimes you’re just bizarre.”
“You’re bizarre all the time,” she retorted. “Ha.”
“Oh, that’s it. We’re having a food fight before we leave,” he decided. “Take me to the rabbits.”
“I don’t know where they are,” she said. “Oh, wait, I do. I see ‘em. Look, they’re so cute. I can’t believe I killed one. I gotta drive better.”
“What do I have to do?” Michael wondered, stepping forward. He surveyed the booth and nodded confidently. “Oh, yeah. It’s in the bag. Traditional balloon pop. You know how many times I’ve done this and lost?”
“Lost?” she resounded. “You can’t lose.”
“I won’t,” he assured her, placing an arm around her waist. “I got my lucky charm with me.”
“You have a lucky charm?” She laughed. “I’m kidding. I know it’s me.”
“I’m so almost-invincible right now, I feel like I’m gonna Hulk out or something.”
“You loser.”
“Winner,” he corrected, handing over a dollar to the guy manning this booth. “Darts, please.”
The guy handed him three darts and explained that he had to pop three balloons in order to win a rabbit.
“You have to win this,” Maria told him before he threw the first one. “I need a pet. I need it now. But no pressure.”
He chuckled. “Right.” He tossed the first dart effortlessly and popped a red balloon right in the middle of the board.
“Woo!” Maria exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Two more, Michael.”
“I’m in the zone,” he told her. “Here comes number two . . .” He tossed another dart and hit a blue balloon in the corner. “Oh, that’s righteous.”
“Totally righteous,” Maria agreed. “One more, Michael.”
He squinted his eyes, took the time to line up his throw, and threw the dart. It flew through the air and popped another red balloon. Maria began to jump up and down excitedly. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” She flung herself into his arms.
“Whoa, DeLuca, don’t go freak on me now.”
“I’m so excited!” she exclaimed. “Oh! Which one should we get?”
“We? I’m not taking care of it. I couldn’t even take care of my gold-fish. I swear to God it evaporated.”
The guy in the booth retrieved the darts and smiled at Michael. “Congratulations. You’ve won. You can pick out one rabbit to take home if you’d like. We can even hold it here until you’re ready to leave.”
“You go pick it out,” he told her.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna help? You did win it, after all.”
“I won it for you,” he told her. “Go pick one out while I give this guy my name.”
Maria gave him a look. “What, are you on the make or something?”
He laughed. “Huh, just with you.”
She blushed and stepped into the booth to get a closer look at the rabbits. A little black one caught her eye right away. “Oh,” she cooed, scooping him up. “Oh, he’s so cute. Do you like this one, Michael?”
“Sure,” he said, obviously not caring.
“I want him,” she said, holding him close. “We could name him Nathaniel.”
Michael handed the paper back to the booth guy and gave Maria a shocked look. “Nathaniel? There’s, what, thousands of names in the world and you pick Nathaniel?”
“I like it,” she said.
“But how’d you come up with it?”
“It’s very confusing,” she told him, “but it makes perfect sense in my mind. See, I like Hawthorne Heights, but I don’t wanna name him Hawthorne ‘cause—hello—the other bunnies would pick on him for that name.”
“But on the other hand, Nathaniel’s such a popular choice,” Michael joked sarcastically.
“So I thought Hawthorne . . . what can I do with Hawthorne?” Maria continued. “And then—boom! This epiphany! Nathaniel Hawthorne.”
“Who the hell’s that?”
“Famous author. I really gotta start tutoring you in English, too.”
He laughed. “Don’t make it sound like a chore. You know you dig hanging out with me.”
Maria shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
He grinned. “Ah, maybe a lot.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I can’t believe you won me a rabbit.”
“I can’t believe you named him Nathaniel.”
Maria laughed and leaned against Michael as they stepped over trash that was now littering the fair ground. She was having so much fun.
“Want some cotton candy?” he offered, already pulling out his wallet. “I’m buying.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t. You’ve bought me enough.”
“Au contraire,” he said. “I’ve won you a lot. Besides, I got funds-a-plenty. Those crappy wages at the Lift-Off are finally gettin’ me somewhere.”
“You quit working there, right?”
“Weeks ago.” Michael stopped in front of the cotton candy stand and ordered two, one for himself and one for her. “You like cotton candy, don’t ya?”
“I love it,” she said. “You know, it’s one of life’s great mysteries. Is it a food or not?”
He gave her an incredulous look. “Of course it’s a food. What’re you talking about?”
“But is it really? I mean, is fluffy vapor really considered a food nowadays?”
He shook his head and handed her one cotton candy when he received it. “Your mind works in different ways, you know.”
“But it’s beautiful that way.”
He slipped his arm around her shoulders and led her toward the rides. “Pretty much everything about you is.”
Maria looked up at him and smiled, completely amazed by him. He had to be the sweetest, nicest, funniest guy she had ever met. And hot. She couldn’t forget hot. He even looked hot when he was stuffing cotton candy in his mouth.
“Mmm,” he said as he let the pink fluff dissolve on his tongue. “Definitely a food. Vapor can’t taste this good.”
She laughed sunk her teeth down into her own cotton candy. “Definitely a food,” she agreed as she swallowed down.
By the time they had reached the rides area, they were both done with their cotton candy and contemplating what to do next. Michael was eyeing the Octopus when Isabel and Alex came bounding up behind them.
“Hey!” Isabel exclaimed, sounding out of breath. Alex stepped up behind her, placing his hands on his knees and heaving for air. “Wow, that was a workout,” he gasped.
“What, did you guys run here or something?” Maria asked.
Isabel looked away and blushed sheepishly.
Michael chuckled. “Oh, you guys weren’t doing any running, were you?”
Alex grinned like an idiot. “Dude, we just got outta the house of mirrors. Picture the regular deal, but surrounding.”
Michael grimaced. “I don’t wanna picture you two.”
Alex laughed goofily. “It was like, suddenly sex was brand new, you know, not just a participant sport anymore, but also a spectator sport.”
“Alex!” Isabel hissed. “Okay, that’s enough. You’re gonna get it.”
“Can there be spanking?” he asked hopefully.
Maria laughed. “Oh my god, you guys are so crazy.”
“Not any crazier than the two of you,” Isabel said. “I thought you guys were gonna spontaneously combust during that horse racing game.”
Michael smirked. “Maria was.”
“I was not,” she insisted. “I was just excited.”
Alex laughed. “Oh, I was excited in the house of mirrors, let me tell you.”
“You already told them,” Isabel reminded him. “Come on. Let’s go . . .” She looked around as if she, too, were considering what to do next. At last, the pensive look in her eyes was replaced by a mischievous one, and she pulled Alex off in the direction of the house of mirrors once again.
Maria smiled as she watched them go. “You know, usually sex stuff freaks me out, but they make it seem so fun.”
“Sex freaks you out, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” she answered without thinking. “I mean . . . well, I’m not some terrified virgin or anything.”
“Damn, I really liked that about you.” He started to walk away, pretending to be upset.
She hurried after him, even though he was just messing around. “No, I lied! I am some terrified virgin. I mean . . . oh, God, did I just admit that?”
“Only to me,” he told her. “It’s cool.”
“I guess,” she said, though she was sure that wasn’t the popular theory. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking . . . are you?”
“Am I what?”
“A virgin?”
“Oh, look,” he said, pointing to the Octopus ride. “The line’s not too long. We could get in it.”
She took his non-answer to be a no. He wasn’t a virgin. No big deal. She hadn’t expected him to be. It didn’t really matter anyway.
“I don’t know,” she said, surveying the ride. “I don’t handle nausea well.”
“It’s not too bad,” he assured her. “You just get tossed around a little bit. That’s all.”
“Oh, yeah, ‘cause getting tossed around is so much fun.”
“It is,” he insisted. “Come on. Try it out. I won you Nathaniel, remember?” He winced. “Nathaniel.”
“Shut up. It’s a good name.”
“Come on, let’s go get in line.” He grabbed onto her hand and tried to pull her with him, but she stayed right in place. “Wait, I don’t know. No. No, not yet. Let’s go on the Ferris wheel first.”
“The Ferris wheel?” he shrieked.
“Michael, I’m serious when I say I have a weak stomach. Now I’ll go on the Octopus, but I have to work my way up to it. Unless you want cotton candy all over you . . .”
He ran one hand through his spiky hair, let out a heavy sigh, and gave in. “Okay, the Ferris wheel.”
“It’ll be fun,” she assured him.
“But the octopus . . . that’d be thrilling.”
Maria jumped into the back of a very short line just as the previous Ferris wheel ride was coming to an end, and she and Michael made it on after only a minute’s wait.
The ride started out slow, but eventually began to pick up speed. Maria looked around excitedly when they reached the top, surprised at how far up they were. “And you say this isn’t thrilling,” she said. “Look, the Octopus doesn’t go half this high.”
“Alright, I confess,” he said, leaning in closer to her. “I have a thing for the Ferris wheel.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, I knew it!”
“You can’t tell anyone,” he warned her. “I got a whole reputation to hold up.”
“What, Michael Guerin the daredevil?”
“Uh, no, just Michael Guerin the cool guy. Cool guys don’t go on wimpy rides.”
She laughed again, finding it hard to picture Michael as an uncool guy. She suspected that they would be friends even if he wore plaid shirts and square glasses and was captain of the chess club. There was just something about him. She couldn’t get him out of her mind. She wanted to be around him all the time, and when she wasn’t she missed him.
Midway through the ride, the Ferris wheel started to slow down. Maria thought they were just letting some people off early, but she realized that wasn’t the case when the ride literally jerked to a stop.
“Wow,” she said, holding onto the bar. “What was that?”
“I think something’s wrong with the ride. Piece of crap.”
Maria looked down at the ground, noticing how high up they were. “Wow,” she said again. “I think we’re at the top. Best view around.”
He chuckled. “Best place to suffer a painful death.”
She gave him a look. “Why would you say that?”
“‘Cause if the ride, say, fell apart on us, we’d be basically plummeting to the ground, and I for one think it would be very painful.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. He was so adorable.
The guy managing the ride started shouting to the passengers just then at the top of his lungs. “Folks, we seem to be having some technical difficulties. We’re just gonna straighten this all out and have you back down as soon as we can.”
A chorus of groans and curses filled the air. These people were not at all happy about being stuck on the ride. Maria didn’t mind, though. There was something awesome about being stuck at the top of this roller coaster with Michael. It made her feel like she was on top of the world.
“Well, this is unfortunate,” Michael said. “I was thoroughly enjoying that ride.”
“Thoroughly enjoying?”
“Yeah.” He placed his arm on the back of the car they were sitting in, but he didn’t let himself touch her. She wondered why that was. She wanted his hands on her.
“This isn’t too bad, though, is it?” Maria said, looking out onto his side at the parking lot.
“Ah, I could think of worse things.”
“Like?”
“Like Barry Manilow,” he replied. “Like being stuck up here with Barry Manilow.”
She laughed heartily, unable to control it. “What?”
“I’m serious. I can only take so much of ‘Mandy’ before I start losin’ my marbles, you know?”
Just to get at him, she started to sing the song. “Oh, Mandy!”
He clasped his hands over his ears. “Ah, no, don’t sing it!”
“You came and you gave without taking, but I sent you away.”
“Maria, I love your voice, but--”
“Oh, Mandy! Well you kissed me and stopped me from shaking, and I need you today. Oh, Mandy!”
“It’s not your singing,” he told her. “It’s just the song. I just can’t take the song.”
“Oh, okay, I’ll stop,” she gave in. “But if we’re stuck up here for hours, I might bring out some Nirvana.”
“Be my guest.”
She immediately broke into a Disney tune. “Be . . . my . . . guest, be my guest, da-da-da---”
“It’s be our guest,” Michael cut in. “Not that I watch Disney movies.”
“Be our guest, be our guest,” she corrected. “Come on, Michael.”
He joined in reluctantly. “Be our guest, be our guest, uh . . .”
“Uh . . .” They both trailed off at the same time, realizing they didn’t know the rest of the words. Maria broke into a fit of giggles and buried her head in Michael’s shoulder. “Oh my god, we’re such freaks.”
“No, the freaks go in the house of mirrors.”
She laughed some more. “Oh, I’m telling Isabel you said that!”
“Go ahead,” he urged. “Hey, did we just move?”
“I hope not,” she said, sitting back up. “I kinda like being stuck up here with you.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” he agreed. “So much better than Barry Manilow.”
She opened her mouth to sing again, but he pressed a finger to her lips to stop her. “Don’t even think about it.”
She stifled the song, and returned to looking at the fair grounds below her. “This is so awesome,” she said. “Look, I can see Nathaniel. Well, not exactly him, but I can see the game you played to win him. Oh, and over there’s the horse racing game.” She huffed. “Amateurs.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, sounding a little dazed.
“Oh, look. Look at that, Michael. You can see the Crashdown Café from here. Oh my god, I can even smell the grease.” She laughed.
Michael didn’t laugh. He sat there in silence, and even though she knew he was gazing at her, she didn’t turn around. She kept looking out at the town, enjoying herself so much. Finally, he said something, though, something that fascinated her even more. He just blurted it out.
“Maria, I’m gonna kiss you.”
She snapped her head around to look into his eyes as complete shock engulfed her. Had he just said . . . “What?” was the only word she could choke out.
“I’m gonna kiss you,” he said again, “and it’s gonna be a good kiss, ‘cause I’m a good kisser, and I bet you are, too.”
If only he knew. She tried to close her mouth, but it just kept gaping. Then her lower lip began to tremble in nervous anticipation, and her palms started to get sweaty. She tried to speak again as he began to lean in. “I . . . uh, I . . . I . . .” She groaned in exasperation when she couldn’t get past the stutter. “God, I can’t even get a sentence out.”
He smiled at her, that beautiful, caring Michael Guerin smile. “You just did.”
“But it doesn’t count. It wasn’t about the k-kiss. See, I can’t even say it? How can I do it if I’m not even saying it?”
He laughed and sat back a little. “You’ve never been kissed before, have you?”
“No, I have,” she lied. “Many times, in fact. Not that I’m, like, slutty with the kissing. I’m not. I don’t just hand out my lips and say ‘kiss ‘em’ or anything like that but . . . no, I’ve been known to . . . tongue and everything!” Now she was really exaggerating.
He shook her head, not believing it.
She sighed and resigned herself to telling the truth. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t done any kissing. Go ahead. Be repulsed by me. Call me a freak of nature. That’s what I am. And whatever you do, don’t kiss me because I really might be bad at it.”
He ignored her warning and started leaning in again, a sweet murmur floating across his beautiful lips. “That’s not possible.” And then his lips were on hers, pressing lightly, carefully. Maria’s hesitation and doubt immediately disappeared, and she forgot about everything else. All she could think of was Michael’s kiss, because it was small, but amazing, and she felt beautiful. She felt wanted, wanted in a way she never had been before.
He began to pull back then, but she didn’t want him to, so she leaned forward herself and found his lips again. He urged her mouth open slightly with his and brought her top lip in between his, sucking lightly. She did the same thing to his bottom lip, relishing in the sensation, in the way it made her feel. She hadn’t imagined it was possible for someone to make her feel this way, to make her feel so warm and alive just by kissing her.
Suddenly, the Ferris wheel lurched forward, and Maria let out a startled cry as the ride began to inch downward ever so slowly. She smiled and blushed as they neared the bottom, nervous to look into Michael’s eyes. She was afraid of his reaction. Would he be repulsed by her now? Was she a bad kisser? Or, on the other hand, was she a good kisser? Would he want her even more now?
As if he were answering her thoughts, he reached up and cupped her cheek with his hand. She turned her head slowly and met his gaze, unable to hide her desire. She liked that kissing, and she wanted to keep doing it.
He definitely wasn’t repulsed, because he leaned in again, seeking her lips out. She closed her eyes and fell back into their state of grace, shocked that kissing him came so naturally, though she’d had no experience.
Her body began to heat up again the moment she felt his velvet lips, and it only felt better when he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close, too, never wanting to let go, never wanting to be away from him.
Maria was oblivious to what was going on around them for the most part from there on out, but she did somehow notice Michael slipping the ride manager another five dollars when they reached the bottom of the Ferris wheel so that they could stay there kissing and go around again.
Amy quickly tucked her Cosmopolitan magazine beneath the couch cushion when Jim came trundling down the stairs and opened up the book he had recommended instead. Well, recommended wasn’t exactly the right word. He had basically insisted that she read Great Parenting in order to “combat any rebellious behaviors Maria might begin to exhibit.” She pretended to be engrossed in chapter five.
“Oh, you’re reading the book,” he commented. “Good.”
“Yeah, it’s really interesting,” she said. “Useful.”
He chuckled and headed into the kitchen. “And we both know we can always use useful.”
Amy didn’t understand that. She never had, and she was fairly certain she never would. Her husband seemed to be under the impression that Maria was being deviant when, in fact, she was just being a teenage girl. Teenage girls befriended boys. Teenage girls developed crushes. Jim had just forgotten that.
“So, I hear you gave Maria permission to go to the fair tonight,” Amy commented, closing the book momentarily. “That’s a big step for you.”
Jim took a carton of milk out of the refrigerator and drank without pouring it into a glass. “It’s not a step. She’s going with Isabel and Alex. Neither one of them seems to be a threat.”
“I guess not,” Amy agreed.
Jim set the carton back in the refrigerator and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “She’s not back yet, huh?”
Amy shook her head. “No.”
“Hmm.” He glanced toward the clock. “It’s a little late.”
“She hasn’t passed curfew yet.”
Jim sent her a warning look. “But it’s still a little late.”
Amy felt suddenly small, as if the stern look in his eyes had reduced her somehow. She nodded quickly and agreed. “It is late.”
“I’m gonna head up to bed,” he told her. “I had a busy day. I need to get some rest.”
“I’ll come join you,” she offered, rising to her feet.
“No,” he said, motioning for her to sit back down. “You read the next few chapters. I think you’ll enjoy them.”
“Right,” she said, sitting back down again. “Okay.”
Jim leaned over the back of the couch and gave her a small kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” she echoed, waiting until he was out of sight before she pulled out her magazine again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael Guerin had kissed lots of girls, but none quite like Maria. There was something different about her, something unusually extraordinary about making out in the backseat with her. Because it wasn’t just making out. It wasn’t just about physical needs this time, and sex was actually the last thing on his mind. Or almost the last. For whatever reason, kissing her made him feel sublimely happy.
“Mmm,” she murmured, pulling back a little. “Oh, this is so risky.”
“Risky?” he echoed, toying with strands of her hair.
“Yeah.” She kissed him again, and he could feel her smiling. “My parents are right inside.”
He grinned and joked, “They can watch.”
She laughed momentarily, but her laughter quickly turned to a breathy moan when he began to ravage her neck. She tilted her head back, giving him access to every available inch of skin he could see. Good God, he thought as he sucked on her flesh. She’s too beautiful.
“Michael,” she gasped, tangling her hands in his hair. “Aren’t we supposed to talk about all this? I mean, isn’t that what people do?”
“Not me,” he ground out. As he was kissing his way back up her cheek to her lips, though, a sudden thought occurred to him. Maybe not talking was where the problem lay. He pulled back and offered, “But we can. If you want to, we can.”
She contemplated it only briefly and was shaking her head seconds later. “No.” She cupped his face in her hands and brought his lips down to hers again. He complied willingly, wanting to taste every inch of heaven he could.
He let his tongue dart out and brush across her bottom lip, causing her to shudder. He could feel her stomach muscles quivering beneath him. “You okay?” he murmured against her lips.
She nodded and sought out his lips again. “Mmm,” she moaned as he kissed a path down to her neck again. “Oh, I don’t wanna stop.”
“Then don’t.”
“I have to. We have to.”
Reluctantly, he tore his lips away from her then, pulled back, and looked down into her bright emerald eyes. “You need some new parents. The ones you have now are ruining my fun.”
“Our fun,” she corrected. “God, it’s fun.”
He pressed his lips to hers again for a brief kiss, knowing he could slam back into make-out mode just now. The night was late, and she was due inside. He couldn’t keep her out in the car much longer.
“It’s crazy, too,” she added. “I mean, in one night, I go from never-been-kissed to back seat making-outer.”
“Yeah, that is crazy,” he agreed, “but you don’t have to worry. You’re a good kisser.” He smirked and leaned down closer. “Remind me just how good you are again.”
She smiled and leaned up, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth. She was even daring enough this time to let her tongue touch the tip of his. Before she could become absorbed, though, she lay back, reaching for the door handle. “I really have to go now.”
“I know,” he said, unlocking the door for her. He pushed it open and looked around outside, terrified of seeing either Mr. or Mrs. Deluca waiting to catch them in the act. “All clear.”
“Good.” She slid out from under him slowly, and he made sure that no part of her body brushed against his growing erection. He couldn’t help being horny, but he didn’t want her to get freaked out by it.
“Are you sure you wanna walk home?” she asked once she was standing on the sidewalk. “I can drive you.”
“That’s alright,” he said. “It’ll give me time to think, clear my head.”
She rolled her eyes. “Right, ‘cause your head’s so full of intellectual goodness right now.”
He laughed, knowing she was right. They had spent at least fifteen minutes parked outside her house in the backseat of her Mercedes Benz, and not one millisecond had been wasted on thinking.
“Well, alright,” she said, getting ready to close the door. “I guess I’ll . . . see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” he said, already picturing the jealous look on Kyle’s face when he saw the two of them kissing by the lockers. “Tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said, smiling. “Bye, Michael.” She closed the door and rushed up to the front door of her house, checking her watch. She placed her hand on the doorknob and was about to step inside; but before she did, she glanced back at him, still smiling and seeming so overwhelmingly happy. Michael watched with a happiness of his own as she disappeared inside, and he walked home that night with the sense that his kissing her had somehow set her free.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria knew she was grinning like an idiot when she traipsed downstairs the next morning, but she couldn’t help it. She had spent all night dreaming about kissing Michael, and smiling was sort of inevitable.
“Hey, Mom,” she chirped. “Mmm, what’s for breakfast? It smells great.”
Amy gave her a disbelieving look. “You can’t possibly be happy about starting a new day, can you?”
Maria sat down at the counter and shrugged. “Why not? Aren’t I usually?”
Amy shook her head slowly and set a plate of scrambled eggs down in front of her. “Usually I end up literally pulling you out of bed because you insist it’s too early, and then after all that I just hear some occasional groaning about how much you hate living in Roswell.”
“Hey, I haven’t complained about Roswell for a long time.”
“True,” Amy admitted. “Still, you look different today. It looks like you’ve got something new. Oh, something like a smile. Imagine that.”
Maria looked down at the table, smiling even more now as dozens of thoughts of Michael began wafting through her mind. “Yeah, I’m in a good mood.”
“The fair must have been really fun.”
“It was.” She looked up and met her mother’s eyes, trying to hide her blush. “I had such an awesome time hanging out with . . . people.”
“Your dad and I really do wanna meet Isabel and Alex sometime,” Amy said, sitting down across from her. “They seem so nice.”
“They are nice,” Maria said, and though that was true, she was still thinking of Michael.
“Have you made any other friends?”
Maria resisted the urge to tell her mother everything about Michael. It was so tempting, because he was so amazing and girls loved discussing amazing guys with their mothers. But since Amy wasn’t the typical mother, she couldn’t be trusted to keep a secret. “I’ve got all the friends I need right now.”
“Well, that’s good,” Amy said. “Oh, good lord, Maria, you look like you slept with a hanger in your mouth.”
Maria laughed. “In any other house, an insult. Here, a welcome compliment.”
Amy smiled and gazed proudly at her daughter. Maria wondered if she would be so proud if she knew what was really making her so happy.
“Jim!” Amy called upstairs. “Honey, get down here. You have to see this. Maria’s smiling!”
Michael, Michael, Michael . . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael slung his backpack over his shoulder and started through the parking lot, looking around for Maria. He didn’t see her or her Mercedes, and it was almost time for school to start. Hmm, he thought. I wonder where she is. He hoped she would show up today. He was looking forward to seeing her.
Once inside, he encountered Alex before he had even made it to his locker. His friend stepped in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, preventing him from going any further.
“Hey,” Michael said. “What, are you trying intimidating now?”
Alex let out a gigantic whoosh of air and dropped his arms to hang by his sides. “It just doesn’t suit me, does it?”
Michael shook his head. “Really doesn’t.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” Alex agreed. “So, hey, I’m kinda surprised to see you here today. I thought you and Maria might still be out on that Ferris wheel or something.”
“Oh, you saw that, huh?”
“Oh, yeah,” Alex replied with an emphatic nod. “America saw it, man.”
“Damn.”
“People are pretty jealous,” Alex added.
“Jealous?”
“Yeah. You know all the guys wanna get with her and the girls wanna . . . well, they kinda all already have, but--”
“Hey, I haven’t slept with every girl in this town,” Michael reminded him. “Just . . . a lot. Hey, so, how many people were watching us? I couldn’t tell. I was in the zone.”
“Clearly. Uh, not a lot really. Well, I mean, most people were just walking by, you know, getting jealous. Isabel and I had just gotten done with the second inning of the house of mirrors, and--”
“The second inning?”
“Yeah, so we walk out and then—BAM! You and Ms. DeLuca . . . tongue and everything.”
Michael chuckled. “No wonder people got jealous.”
“Isabel was so happy for you guys. She did this dance.”
“Oh, man.”
“Yeah. I just sat there, went along with the grin-and-bear-it strategy, you know. We do crazy things for the ones we love, huh?” He laughed. “Like riding the lame-ass Ferris wheel, for example.”
“Yeah, it’s kinda . . . wait, you’re saying I’m in love with Maria?”
“Yeah, of course you are.”
Alex sounded so sure. Michael wondered how he could be. “Whoa, slow down,” he said. “I’ve only know the girl a few weeks. I don’t even . . . hell, I don’t even know where we go from here.”
“Um, if I may suggest, the bedroom.”
Michael gave him a look. “I’m not doing that any more.”
“Oh, and there’s the lie of the millennium.”
“No,” Michael amended. “I mean, I’m not doing that right away anymore. You saw how that worked out with Liz and Courtney and . . . everyone else.”
“Okay, that’s smart,” Alex agreed. “It’ll take some stamina. And I’m not saying you don’t have stamina; I’m just saying, it could be tough.”
“It’ll . . . I’ll be fine,” Michael assured himself more than Alex. “I gotta talk to her. I gotta find out if we’re dating now or still just friends or--”
“Getting hitched?” Alex cut in. “That’s a good one.”
Michael ignored him, knowing Alex had a tendency to jump ahead fast. “I don’t even know where she is. I haven’t seen her . . .” He trailed off as he spoke, then, and he became completely fixated on the most beautiful girl in the world walking down the hallway. There she was. She was wearing a pair of low-slung jeans that showed off her flat, smooth stomach and an off the shoulder white top. She looked extraordinary. Michael kept his eyes locked on her as she leaned against her locker and began putting in her combination, unable to believe that he was somehow privileged enough to kiss her. He wanted to do it again.
“Hmm, let’s see,” Alex said. “Quickness of breath, a starry-eyed look . . . she’s at her locker, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Michael said rather dreamily. He snapped out of it then and spat, “Starry-eyed?”
Alex laughed. “Yeah. Listen, you should probably go talk to her. I’ll see ya. Oh, hey, I call best man, okay?” He started off down the hallway, immersing himself into the crowd. “Best man! That’s me!”
Michael rolled his eyes and waiting until he was gone before moving toward Maria. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans as he neared her, surprised how nervous he was. Girls had never gotten him flustered like this before. Maria was really one of a kind.
“Hey,” he said, leaning against the locker beside hers. Why did he suddenly feel so dumb?
She looked up at him and smiled, obviously happy to see him. “Hey. I can’t get my locker open.”
“Well, you’re putting in the wrong combination,” he told her. “Here, let me get it.”
She moved aside and let him put in the combo for her. He pulled it open gently with a click and gestured inside. “Ta-da.”
“Magical,” she commented. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” he said, unable to keep his eyes from staring at her ass as she bent down to retrieve her calculus book. “So, you must’ve had a late morning, huh? Usually you’re here when . . . other early people are here.”
She laughed and shut her locker quietly. “Yeah, well, my parents insisted on taking some pictures today since I was actually smiling.”
He couldn’t hide his surprise. “What? You smile all the time.”
“Yeah, with you. With them, not so much.”
“Oh.” He nodded in understanding. “Yeah, makes sense.” He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. “You look nice today.”
“Thank you,” she told him, glancing down at what she was wearing. “You do, too.”
“We bear those crosses, remember?”
She laughed and looked around the hallway a little as if something were bothering her. Finally, she came out and said it. “Um, speaking of looks, is it just me or does it seem like everybody’s looking at us?”
“They are,” he informed her. “They’re jealous.”
“Jealous? Of what?”
“Oh, you know, the good-looking crosses we bear.”
“Seriously?”
He stepped closer, reaching one hand out to touch her hip. “No, uh, last night Isabel and Alex saw us on the Ferris wheel.”
“The Ferris wheel,” she registered. “Oh.”
“And apparently everyone else did, too.”
“Oh,” she repeated. “Oh!”
“Yeah, so they’re jealous.”
“Oh, of course,” she said. “Not every girl gets to make-out with the one and only Michael Guerin.” She smiled and leaned in closer.
Hearing her say that startled him, and he pulled back a little bit. “Uh-huh, yeah.” He tried to laugh. “That’s . . . funny.”
“And I bet Kyle’s jealous,” she added, “and all his friends, too. I can see them looking at us out of the corner of my eye.”
Michael glanced out the corner of his eye and saw that she was right. “Pervs,” he muttered. “Well, come on, let’s give ‘em something to look at.” Feeling more at ease now, he pulled her closer and began inching forward, already parting his lips to lock with hers. He was so close. He could almost taste her. She wanted to. It all felt so good.
When their lips were only inches apart, a gruff man cleared his throat loudly as if to announce his presence. They both turned their heads to the side slowly and looked into the face of Principal Forrester. He stood before them with his arms crossed over his chest, much more intimidating than Alex had been, but Michael still felt no need to listen to anything he had to say.
“Tone it down,” Principal Forrester told them. “Limit it to hand-holding, you hear?”
Maria nodded, seeming slightly embarrassed. “Yes, sir.”
Principal Forrester walked away then, mumbling under his breath, “Kids nowadays.”
“Principals nowadays,” Michael mimicked. “What an ass.”
“It’s fine,” Maria told him, smoothing her hands up and down his arms.
“No, it’s not. I wanna kiss you.”
“Yeah, and trust me, I want that, too, but the last thing I need is for my dad to end up banging down the door to my bedroom ‘cause of some call from assy- Forrester about illegal PDA.”
Michael sighed and gave in, seeing her point. “Alright, yeah. I get that. It’s a stupid rule, though.”
“But it’s a rule.”
“But rules are meant to be broken.”
“Well, that’s an interesting theory, but then we’re back to that whole dad banging down the door thing again. See?”
Michael groaned and took her hands in his, resigning himself to the school rules for the first time in history. “This is torture.”
“I know,” she agreed. “Should we sneak into that one room?”
“Eraser room?” Now he was hopeful again.
“Yeah. We’ve got, like, fifteen minutes.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Hold up, though. I gotta piss first.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, how romantic!”
“I’ll make it quick,” he promised, already heading off in the direction of the bathroom. He was halfway down the hallway when his desires got the best of him and he turned back. In three long strides, he was beside her again, and this time he placed his hand on her cheek and kissed her quickly, not enough to get her in trouble, but enough to satisfy the impulse until they made it to the eraser room. She smiled, both surprised and excited, and he rushed off to the bathroom, already looking ahead to the eraser room and the fun they would have in there.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Liz had to turn away from Michael and Maria when it became too much. All the smiling. All the laughing. What a disgusting display of affection. She felt insanely jealous.
“That was fun, wasn’t it?” she overheard Michael say.
“Oh, yeah, what with the cleaning erasers and all.”
Liz rolled her eyes, controlling the urge to spew. Yeah, I bet they were cleaning erasers, she huffed mentally. What a little bitch.
“Jealous people,” she heard Michael comment. “Look at ‘em.”
Liz spun around then, anger flashing in her eyes. “I am not jealous!”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “That’s why you’re eavesdropping.”
“I’m not eavesdropping. I just overheard,” she lied.
“Kyle’s gotta be jealous, though,” Maria said, speaking only to Michael. “I bumped into him on my way out of choir, and he just glared at me. Which is not a bad thing.”
“Definitely not.”
Liz turned back around and faced the board, pretending that she was all engrossed in the English lesson. She wished Michael and Maria weren’t such close friends. Couples were easier to break up when there was no friendship involved. Breaking up Michael and Maria was going to be tough, but it had to be done. She needed to get Michael back. He was the only guy she had ever met who could deliver sex that good so often.
All at once, Ms. Hardy, the English teacher, threw a piece of chalk down on the floor and stomped her foot angrily. “That’s it! Michael! Maria! You two have been talking this entire time! Tell me, what’s so important that it’s worth interrupting my English lesson?”
Michael didn’t even hesitate. “Pretty much everything.”
A few of the guys clapped in applause. “Right on, man,” somebody muttered.
“We’re sorry,” Maria apologized directly in contrast to Michael. “We’ll be good.”
Billy Darden spun around to face the class and disagreed. “I don’t know. The Ferris wheel could tell some mighty bad stories if you know what I mean.” He wriggled his eyebrows, and some of the class laughed loudly. Liz didn’t. The Ferris wheel. Pshaw. So they made out. Big deal. It’s not gonna go any farther than that. I’ll make sure of it.
“Fuck you, Darden,” Michael spat.
“Hey!” Ms. Hardy interjected. “That’s enough! Michael, you keep that mouth closed; and Maria, you come up here and read your book report.”
“My book report?” she echoed, clearly having forgot. “Right.”
“Right,” Ms. Hardy resounded. “It was due yesterday. You told me your dad spilled coffee on it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave Maria a look of disappointment. “I don’t suppose he did that again today, did he?”
“Uh . . . kind of,” she stuttered. “You see, the thing is . . .”
“Do you have it or not?”
Maria sat back in her chair, looking guilty. “No.”
Liz rolled her eyes. The girl was a goody-two-shoes college-bound prep, totally afraid to get in trouble. What would Michael want with someone like that? He liked bad girls.
“Fantastic,” Ms. Hardy ground out in exasperation. “You know, we should talk after class. I think I’ve had a few misconceptions about you.”
Unable to resist, Liz jumped in. “Ms. Hardy, you’ll have to forgive Maria. She’s a do-er, you see, and she had other things to do last night.” She glanced back and made eye contact with Michael then, and smirked. “Some things just needs to be done.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly and stared at her straight on, warning her not to push it any farther, so she let up, even though tormenting the new couple really was fun.
Towards the end of class, Ms. Hardy pointedly invited any students who were done with their book reports to stand in front of the class and read them aloud. Liz seized the opportunity, running up to the podium before anyone else even had the chance. She had just opened her mouth to begin when Ms. Hardy stopped her.
“Um, Liz, where’s your report?”
“Oh, are you kidding? I didn’t do that silly little thing.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “Well, I’m a doer, too.”
The students laughed quietly amongst themselves.
“You’ll need to have it done by tomorrow,” Ms. Hardy told her. “It was due yesterday people. Thirty percent off.”
“Whatever.” Liz didn’t care.
“You can take your seat then.”
“Oh, no way,” Liz dismissed. “I may not have written anything out, but I did read something. It’s called . . .” She quickly made up a sexy title right off the top of her head. “ Arousal.”
Ms. Hardy almost choked on the coffee she was swallowing. “What did you say?”
“Arousal,” Liz repeated. “You said we could read anything we want.”
“Yes, but I thought you’d choose something appropriate.”
“Oh, it’s totally appropriate. Just give me a chance to explain.”
Ms. Hardy set her coffee down and looked away. “Oh my god,” she muttered. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Liz echoed, looking around the room. “So, anyway, the book’s about these two young people who are, like, totally physically attracted to each other. The girl’s the most beautiful thing in the world, and the guy’s, like, totally hard all the time.”
The class looked shocked.
“They have sex a lot,” she continued, looking toward the back of the room at Michael. He wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was leaning over, whispering something in Maria’s ear that made her giggle. “It’s good,” Liz continued. “He’s really big and she’s really . . .” She trailed off, outraged that Michael and Maria weren’t listening to her. Were they so wrapped up in their own relationship that they didn’t even notice her talking about sex in the front of the room? She couldn’t take it anymore.
“Stop it!” she shouted. This got their attention. They both looked up at her. Maria seemed worried. Michael seemed annoyed.
“Stop talking!” she continued. “This is my story, not yours! It’s not about you!”
“I’m sorry,” Maria apologized, sounding timid again. “Go on.”
Liz glared at her, wishing she had never come here to Roswell. She was ruining everything. She was taking Michael away from the person he used to be, far away into nice guy territory.
Ms. Hardy cleared her throat. “I think I’m gonna have to cut you off anyway, Liz. This just really isn’t school appropriate.”
“Fine,” Liz said, not caring anymore. “I’ll just . . .” She was about to head back to her seat when something occurred to her. A realization, an epiphany. This wasn’t going to work. She was never going to be able to screw over Michael and Maria if she was acting like a snob. She was going to have to sink to more devious levels.
“I’m sorry, Maria,” she apologized, the words foreign on her tongue. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“Oh.” Maria seemed surprised. “Well, I shouldn’t have been talking.”
“It’s fine,” Liz lied, smiling a fake smile. “The book was boring anyway.”
Billy snorted. “Didn’t sound like it.”
Liz headed back to her seat, still smiling, hoping she was sending off more of a friendly vibe to Maria now. False friendliness was the only way this was going to work.
“So I’ll see you later then?”
Maria shut her locker and glanced up at Michael questioningly. “Later?”
“Yeah, I gotta do this thing after school.”
“Oh. Yeah, I should probably go see Ms. Hardy.” She made a face of disgust at the thought. That woman was just plain unpleasant sometimes.
“So am I swinging by your place?”
She thought about it briefly, and a smile flew to her face when she remembered that her parents were going to be gone all afternoon. “Yeah, actually. My dad’s at this luncheon, and my mom went with him.” She shrugged. “What can I say? Hungry lawyers eat all afternoon.”
He seemed utterly thrilled. “Awesome.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “So . . . four-ish?”
“Works for me,” he said. “Alright. I better go now. See you.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, causing her heart to flutter in her chest. He was the greatest, sweetest guy.
She stared after him longingly as he pushed his way past Kyle and the jock group and headed out to the parking lot. Mmm, she thought, already picturing lying up in her bedroom with him, making out like crazy. He’s definitely the hottest guy, too.
Clutching her calculus homework to her chest and carrying her purse on her shoulder, Maria headed off down the hallway to Ms. Hardy’s room. She stepped inside slowly, wary of what the teacher would say to her. She was well aware she had been a less than stellar student lately.
“Hey, Ms. Hardy,” she greeted, trying to sound friendly. “You said you wanted to see me after school?”
Ms. Hardy set down her coffee cup and looked up at her surprised. “Yes, I suppose I did. I didn’t think you’d show up, though. I guess you’re not like all the others.”
Maria smiled, although she wasn’t sure what to think about that. What others was she talking about? Isabel and Alex? Michael?
“Sit down,” Ms. Hardy instructed, gesturing toward the rows of empty desks.
Maria slid into a desk, hoping this wasn’t going to take too long. She had to be home around four-ish so that she and Michael could make-out.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Ms. Hardy said.
“I highly doubt that.”
“You’re thinking about Michael Guerin, aren’t you?”
Maria stared at her in disbelief. “You wouldn’t happen to be some kind of freaky mind-reader, would you?”
Ms. Hardy chuckled. “You don’t need to be a mind-reader to see how you feel about him.”
Maria sighed. “So I’m obvious. Well, not everyone can be the mysterious type.”
Ms. Hardy’s expression quickly changed from one of humor to one of seriousness. “You’re new here, Maria, and there’s some things you don’t know, some things that have been conveniently hidden from you.”
Maria gave her a confused look. “Conveniently hidden?” What was this woman talking about?
“Aspects of Michael’s personality,” she elaborated. “I see him around you. He seems nice . . . or as nice as he can be. He seems protective, happy, almost sweet even.”
“He is sweet,” Maria said. “God, he’d kill me if he heard me say that. It’s not masculine enough.”
Ms. Hardy gave her a sympathetic look. “Maria, you need to take a step back. Look at what he’s doing to you. You haven’t turned in any homework this week.”
“It’s only Tuesday,” Maria protested.
“But still, you haven’t turned in anything. You talk throughout my entire class period. I’m not even sure if you’re comprehending the material.”
Maria exhaled and looked around, feeling very uncomfortable in here. “I’m just . . . I’m not the studying type.”
“Your transcripts beg to differ. You’ve had a 4.0 average all three of your years in high school. That’s amazing. I’d hate to see that end now just because of a boy.”
“A boy?”
“No, not just a boy. A boy with a reputation, a boy who I happen to know does not have the best intentions.”
Maria shook her head. “I already got this lecture from Principal Forrester. The bottom line is, Ms. Hardy, I don’t care what you and he and the rest of the administration here think. Michael’s my friend. Okay, let’s be real here, he’s more than my friend. I’m not gonna sit here and listen to you tell me to stay away from him.” She picked up her books and rose from the desk. “If you wanna talk to me about English, Ms. Hardy, that’s fine, but what I do with my personal life is off-limits.” She made her way out of the room hurriedly, wishing she had decided to skip out on this fun little meeting like all the other kids did.
She rushed out into the now nearly empty hallway, not even watching where she was going. She was rounding the corner to the lockers when she bumped into Liz. Liz’s papers went flying all over the ground. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologized, bending to pick them up immediately. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Liz told her, helping retrieve the papers. “So what are you still doing here?”
“Uh, talking to Ms. Hardy, actually,” she said, handing Liz her work.
“Oh, yeah? How’d that go?”
“Uh . . .” Liz was acting friendly enough, but Maria didn’t feel comfortable around her, at least not comfortable enough to divulge anything Michael-related. So she lied. “It went fine.”
“That’s good,” Liz said. “She seemed like she was kind of upset with you in English.”
Maria nodded in agreement. “Yeah.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. Liz was acting so differently than she normally did. Was she actually trying to become friends?
“Speaking of English,” Liz went on, “I am really sorry for snapping at you today. I was angry with Michael, not you.”
Maria sighed, heading off down the hallway. “Everybody hates Michael.”
“Girls don’t,” Liz said. “I don’t.”
Maria spun around, confused by this. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t hate him,” Liz said. “I have . . . well, I have mixed-feelings about him. If you knew him, you’d understand.”
“I do know him.”
“Sure,” Liz said. “Say, is he around?”
“No,” Maria replied quickly. She found herself wondering what Liz would have done if he had been nearby. Would she have ran up to him and started flirting with him? Would she have tried to steal him away?
“Cool,” Liz said, surveying the hallway anyway. “You guys are usually around each other nowadays.”
Maria gave her a look. What did she mean by that? Was that another criticism?
“Not that you’re joined at the hip or anything,” Liz said as if reading her mind. Then she lowered her voice and mumbled, “Not yet anyway.”
“Okay,” Maria said, feeling even more uncomfortable than she had in Ms. Hardy’s room. “I should probably be going now.”
“I’m sorry, Maria,” Liz apologized out of nowhere.
Maria didn’t get it. “For what? You already apologized for English.”
“I’m not talking about English.”
Maria set her books down on the floor cautiously, not sure what was going on. “Oh, is this about the Midwestern thing at the beginning of the year? ‘Cause if it is, I should probably apologize for the whole whore comment, too.”
“It’s not about that,” Liz said. “Listen, I’m just . . . I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner. I wish I would’ve found the time to . . . to talk to you or something. It might be too late now.”
“Too late?” Maria resounded, feeling a little scared now. “Liz, what’re you talking about?”
“Michael,” the other girl blurted. “I’m talking about Michael.”
Maria sighed dramatically, hating this. “Right. Everyone is.”
“You don’t get it,” she said. “He’s not . . .” She trailed off and shook her head. “You don’t know him.”
“No, I do.”
“You don’t, though. You’ve been here for, what, a few weeks? I’ve known him all my life, Maria. I’ve seen who he really is.”
Maria threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. “Okay, then. Tell me. If you’re so smart, tell me who he really is.”
“I’m not trying to offend you,” Liz said. “I’m trying to warn you.”
“Then warn me already.”
Liz sighed again. “This is really hard. I know you really like him. But that’s how it starts. Girls start to really like him. They start to think he’s a decent guy.” She huffed. “Yeah, right.”
“He is decent, though,” Maria assured both herself and Liz. “He’s been a great friend.”
“Of course,” Liz said. “Let me tell you a story, Maria. Michael and I were good friends freshmen year. We hung out in the same group during school. We went down to the beach a few times during the summer. We had a lot of fun, kinda like you guys do now.”
Maria tried to picture that, but the picture didn’t come easily. Michael and Liz seemed so different, and they shared nothing but a “mutual disrespect and hatred” toward each other now. Was it possible that they also shared memories?
“I was young,” she went on, “and naive. Sophomore year . . . there was this party. We just . . . we both had a few drinks. Things got out of control.” She hung her head and looked down at the ground. “You know what I mean.”
“You and Michael slept together?” Maria didn’t like to even think about it.
Liz nodded solemnly. “Yeah, we did.”
Maria’ mouth fell open. She couldn’t contain her surprise. She had known Michael wasn’t a virgin, but she hadn’t imagined he had slept with someone like Liz. She was just so . . . Liz.
“I won’t go into detail,” Liz said. “I mean, it was just a really good time. Then after that, we started dating, if you can call it that.” She laughed a fake laugh. “It wasn’t real. None of it was real. We just . . . we just had sex. It’s what we did. It was really fun, but it was really fake. It was a sham relationship, and he wanted it that way. He broke up with me two months later and . . . I don’t know. I just felt shattered.”
“Shattered?” Maria echoed, still trying to wrap her mind around the concept of Liz and Michael once being an item. She’d had a feeling right at the beginning of the year. She had sensed something, some kind of history between them, but she had asked Michael about it and . . . “Wait,” she said, trying desperately to clear her suddenly cluttered head. “Michael said you guys didn’t . . . he said you never went out.”
“Well, he lied,” Liz told her. “He’s probably lied a lot to you. He knows he gotta smokescreen you. He doesn’t want you to see his true colors.”
Now it was Maria’s turn to feel shattered. Was this really all just one big scheme? Was Michael only a bad guy in a good guy costume?
“I’m not the only one, either,” Liz told her. “There’s Courtney. You know Courtney, right?”
Maria nodded, dreading what was next.
Liz shook her head sadly. “Oh, it’s awful. Courtney was this beautiful, straight-A student like you. She and Michael started hanging out, though, and he fooled her, too. Next thing you know, they’re banging away in bed together, and she’s just his slut.”
Maria took in a shuddering breath, feeling close to tears. Was that what he was going to do to her?
“He’s been with tons of girls,” Liz went on. “Most of the ‘relationships’ he has only last a couple weeks. He’s kinda like his dad in that way. Use ‘em and lose ‘em, you know. That’s like his philosophy.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Maria. I know this is really hard to hear, but it’s the truth. Michael uses girls. He’ll make you think you’re his friend, but he’ll take advantage of you. Maybe even literally.”
“Literally?” Maria echoed as horror engulfed her. Had Michael taken advantage of girls before? How could he be that kind of person?
“He’s a master at it, you know?” Liz said. “Just don’t let him fool you, okay? A leopard doesn’t change its stripes.”
“Spots.”
“What?”
“Leopards have spots.”
“Right, exactly.”
Maria looked away from Liz, hoping she wouldn’t catch sight of the tears shimmering in her eyes.
“It’s okay to be sad,” Liz consoled her. “I would be, too, if I’d just found out some cold, harsh truths about my boyfriend. Or, is he your boyfriend?”
“I . . . I-I don’t know,” Maria choked out.
“Probably not now,” Liz said. “Gee, I’m really sorry, Maria.”
“It’s okay,” Maria said, blinking away her tears. “I think I should probably talk to him.”
“Yeah, for sure,” Liz agreed. “Be careful.”
Maria bent down, picked up her books, turned, and hurried away down the hallway without another word. She had to get home and collect herself before she saw Michael again.
“Maria!” Liz called suddenly.
Maria stopped mere feet away from the door, resisting the urge to sprint outside the rest of the distance to her car. She turned back slowly and met Liz’s eyes.
Liz’s sympathy was gone now, replaced by a devious smirk as she spoke slowly. “He lost his virginity to me.”
Maria tried to stay strong, but she was breaking down inside. She rushed out into the parking lot just as the tears began to fall down her cheeks, and slammed into her car. She jammed the key into the ignition and slumped over the wheel as sobs wracked her body. This couldn’t be true. Michael couldn’t be this awful kind of guy. She needed him to be good. She needed him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael pulled into the DeLuca driveway, pleased with himself. Not only had he won Maria a pet rabbit, but he had done something responsible by going and picking up that said rabbit after school. Responsible. He laughed inwardly at the thought. Anything was possible.
He turned off the car, took the keys out of the ignition, and glanced down at the load in the passenger’s seat. Nathaniel was pacing around in a brand new cage, sniffing the air for food. Michael couldn’t help but smile a little as he watched the little guy. Although he’d never admit it to anyone, not even Maria, he was kind of cute.
Taking a hold of the cage in one hand and food in the other, Michael pushed open the car door and stepped outside, envisioning the happy look on Maria’s face when he brought her new pet home. He loved being able to make her happy.
Nathaniel started jumping around in the cage excitedly as Michael neared the front door. He chuckled as he watched the rabbit. “Yeah, you should be excited. Maria’s a lot cooler than I am.” He knocked on the door.
At last, Maria answered. She glanced at him, then at the rabbit, and opened the door slowly so that he could step inside. She looks nervous, Michael registered. Why would she be nervous? Her eyes looked a little different, too, almost as though she had been crying. He wondered if something had happened with her parents.
“Hey,” he greeted, trying not to stare at her in question. “Brought you your rabbit.”
“Yeah.” Her voice sounded weak, timid.
“That’s what I had to do after school,” he explained, setting the cage down on the floor. “It kinda just dawned on me we forgot about him last night.”
“Yeah,” she said again as she shut the door gently.
“I stopped and got a cage, too,” he continued, pointing out the obvious. “I thought you might need one. It’s just cheap, so it probably won’t last but . . . oh, well. Oh, I got food, too.” He held up three small packets of bunny food. “I probably looked like a queer buying all this stuff.” He had expected her to laugh at that, but she didn’t. She just stood there, staring at him as if she were studying him. She looked so unlike herself. Still beautiful, yes, but not in the typical Maria DeLuca way he had grown accustomed to.
“You okay?” he inquired finally, starting to become more than a little worried about her.
“Fine,” she said, seeming sort of out of it still. “Let’s go upstairs.”
A mental picture of himself and Maria tangled beneath the sheets pushed its way into his mind without consent. Upstairs. “You sure?”
She nodded and turned, making her way toward the stairs. “Uh-huh.”
He grinned, unable to help it. “Excellent.” If Maria wanted to take things fast, who was he to stop her?
She turned back when she was on the stairs and instructed, “Bring Nathaniel.”
He gave her a confused look. “What, the rabbit? You want the rabbit up there?” That couldn't possibly be healthy for the little guy, seeing them . . . listening to them . . .
She said nothing as she continued up the stairs.
Perplexed as ever, Michael reached down, picked up the cage, and followed her upstairs to her bedroom. His worry was beginning to multiply. Why wasn’t she talking to him?
Maybe she’s just stressed, he reasoned, placing the cage on the floor next to the door in her bedroom. I’ll have to find a way to calm her down. He smiled just thinking about the possibilities.
He shut the door and locked eyes with her. “Hmm, let’s see. Calculus.” He held up an imaginary book in his right hand. “Making out.” He did the same with his right hand and pretended to weigh the options. “Calculus. Making out. I’m gonna go with the making out.” He laughed a little and moved toward her, encircling his arms around her waist. “Come here.”
She bent her head and stared down at the ground instead of leaning in to kiss him. He placed his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. She closed her eyes and parted her lips, and he was just about to kiss her when she turned her head to the side and stepped backward. He watched in confusion and she stepped away from him. “What’s going on?” he demanded. He didn’t like not knowing what was happening with her.
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“No, something.” He knew that much. Maria wouldn’t act this distant if something wasn’t bothering her. “Come on, you can tell me. You can trust me.”
She huffed. “Can I?”
Where had that come from? “Yeah,” he replied. He took two short strides toward her and tried placing his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
She tensed up when he touched her, and he slowly withdrew his hand. Was he the problem? “What’s this about?” he asked her. “You won’t let me kiss you. You freak out when I touch you.”
“I didn’t freak out,” she said.
“You got all nervous and shit,” he amended. “What’s going on? Did Ms. Hardy say something about me, ‘cause whatever it is, it’s not true.”
She shook her head, taking another step away from him. “No, this isn’t about--” She cut off abruptly and revised her statement. “No, I guess this is a little bit about what she said, and what Principal Forrester said, and especially . . . especially about what Liz said.”
Immediate panic engulfed him when she spoke the other girl’s name. “Liz?” he resounded, feeling completely horrified. “What did she say?”
Maria sighed and sat down on the edge of her bed. “Things. Things about you.”
Michael ran his hand through his hair and tried to remain calm. If he could somehow convince Maria that Liz had been lying, even though she had probably told the truth . . . He hated having to do this.
Before he could get a word out, Maria spoke again. “You know, Michael, I like to think that we’ve become pretty good friends. I mean, we’re close, aren’t we?”
“Yeah,” he said, resisting the urge to reach out and embrace her. “Yeah, we’re close.”
She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Well, sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.”
News to him. “It doesn’t?”
She sighed. “No, it . . . God, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. It’s just . . . I’ve shared a lot of things with you, Michael. I’ve opened up to you. I’ve been completely honest and . . . I don’t know. Sometimes it just doesn’t feel like you’re being completely honest with me.”
“I am,” he said a little too quickly. “Why would I hide anything, Maria?”
“I don’t know, but you do,” she insisted. “There’s something, Michael. There’s always just something in the way, something you won’t tell me.”
“There’s not.” Anxiety was racing through him now, causing full-on fear. “I’ve opened up to you, Maria. Not at first, but eventually. I brought you to my house. I let you see stuff. I told you things.”
Her eyes began to sparkle with tears. “Then tell me something now. Right now.”
He shrugged. “Anything.”
She gazed at him almost desperately, and a single tear leaked onto her cheek. “Tell me you’re not one of those guys who uses girls for sex. Tell me, Michael, because Liz says you are; and I know she’s not the most reliable source, but other people tell me that, too. They say I shouldn’t be around you because you only think about one thing, so please tell me that’s a lie. Please tell me you’re not that kind of guy.”
He wanted to be honest with her, but he was so scared. “I’m not.”
“You’re not?” she echoed, confusion etched all over her features. “Then why do people say--”
“I don’t use girls for sex,” he interrupted, pain erupting in his chest as he spoke the words. “I don’t do that, Maria.”
She rose from the bed slowly, and a look of hope returned to her eyes. “I knew you didn’t. I knew, Michael.” She made her way toward him and embraced him tightly, resting her cheek on his chest. “I’m sorry. I just had to ask you.”
“It’s okay,” he soothed, stroking her hair. “I don’t do that, Maria.” He relished in the feeling of holding her close for just a few seconds, and then his honesty got the best of him. He knew he couldn’t hold out on her any longer—his feelings were too strong—so he winced as he spoke the words. “I don’t do that anymore.”
She froze in his arms and pulled away slowly to look up into his eyes. “Anymore?” she echoed. “What do you mean ‘anymore’?”
He dropped his hold on her, knowing she wouldn’t want to be in his arms any longer. “What do you think?”
A mixture of shock and mortification enveloped her, and she backed away once again. “Then it’s true?” Her voice cracked as she spoked. “It’s true what Liz said?”
“I don’t know. What did she say?”
Maria didn’t respond. She looked away from him and placed one hand on her bed’s headboard to steady herself. She looked away from him, and he looked away from her, too. Seeing her so heartbroken like this was unbearable.
“I never meant for anything to happen,” he began explaining, staring off at her bookcase. “I didn’t wanna be like my dad. But Liz and I started hanging out. I thought she was alright. So we went to this party one night, had a few beers, got a little wasted.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, willing himself to continue. “That was sophomore year. We had sex that night.”
“Your first time,” she choked out.
“Oh, she didn’t leave out any details, did she?” He sighed, devastated, and worked up the courage to look at her. She was cowering in the corner, trying to muffle the sounds of her crying. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Instead, he asked, “What else did she tell you?”
“Um, that you were a couple for two months. That you just . . .” She trailed off and gazed at him, seeming just as devastated as he was, if not more so.
“That we just had sex,” he filled in, knowing that was what she had been trying to say. “It’s true. We didn’t . . . we didn’t really even consider anything else. I think I kinda . . . got addicted.”
Maria’s jaw muscle tensed as she tried to hold back more tears. “Great.”
“I broke up with her around Christmas,” he told her, “when . . .” He stopped himself from saying anything more, but he had sparked her curiosity.
“When?” she prompted.
He hung his head, too ashamed to look her in the eye. “When I got tired of it. When it got old.”
“So you really just used her,” Maria concluded. “For sex.”
“Unintentionally.”
“But you did.”
“Yes.”
Maria let out a deep, agonized breath. “And you lied to me. You told me you two had never . . . you told me.”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, still averting any eye contact. “I was trying to protect you.”
“From what, yourself?”
“From the person I was,” he elaborated, finally looking up again. “Was, Maria. Past tense.”
She shook her head exasperatedly. “It doesn’t matter, Michael.”
This was what he had been afraid of, that she wouldn’t be able to come to terms with his past. That’s why he hadn’t told her.
“Tell me more,” she said. “What happened after Liz?”
“I really don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Talk!” she shouted. “If you care about me at all, Michael, talk! Tell me about your whores!”
She wasn’t exactly giving him a choice. Fair enough. He knew he didn’t really deserve one. “Fine, I’ll talk. After Liz, I just couldn’t stop, okay? I found a hot girl, I went after her. I got her in bed with me, we’d fuck for few weeks and then I’d break up with her. Onto the next girl. Satisfied?”
She shook her head. “Disappointed.” She took in a shuddering breath. “I hate guys like you.”
“So do I,” he admitted. “But I’m not like that anymore.”
She didn’t seem to want to listen to that. She waved her hand in the air to shut him up and asked him another question. “I don’t understand. You obviously got a reputation for being a womanizer, right? So how did you get all these girls to go for you? I mean, were they just stupid, or did you . . . did you do something to them?”
He was shocked that she would believe this about him. What kind of thoughts was Liz putting into her head? “You think . . . you think I took advantage of ‘em?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s hardly a novel concept.”
“I didn’t do that,” he insisted forcefully. “I would never . . . Maria, you have to believe me!”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“I didn’t,” he kept on. “Okay, once in awhile, I’d take girls to parties and they’d have a few drinks, but they always knew what they were doing. I didn’t hurt anybody!”
“Good,” she squeaked. “That’s . . . my god, Michael, how did you get them to sleep with you then? Just tell me.”
He didn’t want to just tell her. This was going to scare her.
“Tell me,” she repeated. “If it wasn’t alcohol, what was it?”
He forced himself to look into her eyes to say it, because he felt that he deserved the torture. He deserved it all. “It was me,” he answered at last. “Just me. I did it.”
She stood in silence, urging him to continue.
“I made ‘em think . . .” This was killing him. “I made them think I just wanted to be friends.”
Pure sorrow washed over her then, and tears began to fall rapidly down her cheeks. “Oh, well, that sounds fairly familiar, doesn’t it?” A gigantic sob wracked her. “Is that what you’re doing with me?”
“No!” he said a little too loudly. “I would never--”
“But you have. So don’t say you would never, because you already have!”
“You have to believe me!”
“How can I believe anything you say? You say that’s not the person you are anymore, but maybe you’re lying. Maybe this is all another one of your big schemes to get laid, and you’re just gonna use me like you used Liz and everyone else!”
“No, no,” he insisted. “I’m not doing that anymore, Maria. I’m different. I’m better now. Please. You gotta believe me!”
“I can’t,” she said. “I am so scared and disgusted right now, Michael.” She shook her head, continuing to cry heavily. “How am I supposed to trust you? I didn’t even know you back then.”
“Exactly, you didn’t even know me and you’re freaking out.”
“Excuse me?” She seemed offended now. “I think I have every right to freak out, okay?”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized at once. “Listen, Maria, I don’t know how to get through to you. I’m just . . . I’m just better now. I stopped using girls last year. You’re the only girl I’ve even kissed since then. Truth.”
“Oh, truth. Something new and different for you,” she scoffed.
“I was just . . . I went through a phase for a while. Just awhile, this bad phase. I’m over it now. I don’t want that anymore. I want a real relationship. I want . . . I want you.”
She locked her eyes with his and spoke with clarity and decision, both of which he was lacking in this moment. “I don’t.” More tears fell. “I don’t want you.”
He felt as though he could cry himself, but he forced himself to stay strong. Inside though, he was breaking down. This relationship was the one real, genuine relationship he’d ever had in his life, and it was falling apart at the seams.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I think you should go.”
He stood like a statue, unable to move, unable to think.
“Just one more thing, though,” she added. “What about Courtney?”
His snapped back into the moment when she said that, and complete and utter guilt engulfed him. “Liz mentioned Courtney?”
She nodded solemnly. “She said she was . . .”
“Beautiful,” he filled in. “Yeah, she was. She had that valley girl look about her, you know. And she was smart, too. Got straight A’s.” He decided in that heated moment to tell her everything, because he had nothing left to lose at that point. Why not be honest? “I wanted her, because she was unattainable. And I got her, just like I got everyone I wanted. We did the two week stint thing. Fucked every night. Down and dirty, alright? No holds barred, everything went. You see her now; you see how trashy she is. Ever wonder how she got that way?”
Maria wiped the tears from her cheeks, trying to be strong now. “Now I know.”
“Yeah, now you know,” he agreed, wishing she didn’t. This was quite possibly the end of the road for him and Maria now. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.
“Okay,” she said. “Get out.”
“Maria--”
“Get out!” she roared.
The anger he saw in her eyes was staggering. The hate in her voice . . . he was sure she hated him now. He reached back, placed his hand on the doorknob, and opened the door, dumbfounded, unable to believe this evening had turned out like this. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. Maria was supposed to be smiling and happy and in his arms. This was just the opposite. “I’m sorry,” he choked out.
“Leave!”
He paused in the doorframe and looked back at her, still unable to keep his eyes off her. He tried to remember how it felt to touch her and kiss her, but that was all gone now. It was as if everything had vanished, and suddenly he couldn’t remember.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he mumbled, tearing his eyes away. It took every ounce of strength he had to close that door and to leave the room, to leave her.
My Romance by April
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: As if the characters would ever belong to me. Wouldn't that be a dream come true. I could so see Brendan at my beck and call.
Wow, it's been a while since I've posted anything anywhere. I blame my computer. I've missed Candy fan fiction so much. I'm so glad I'm able to post again. This fic might very well end up being the best thing I've ever written if I do say so myself. It's long so far, and I'm very happy with the way it's going. I hope all readers enjoy it!
Wow, it's been a while since I've posted anything anywhere. I blame my computer. I've missed Candy fan fiction so much. I'm so glad I'm able to post again. This fic might very well end up being the best thing I've ever written if I do say so myself. It's long so far, and I'm very happy with the way it's going. I hope all readers enjoy it!