A KISS FOR EMILY
a novel by
J. P. Galuska
Book One of the Emily Stokes Series
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Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Jennifer Galuska
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.
Cover art by Jennifer Finerty
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.
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For my children, who inspire me to write wonderful works of art.
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Acknowledgements
With God, all things are possible.
Thanks to my sister Julie, who told me it was great right from the first draft. Thanks to Scott L., who then bought me my first books on writing.
Thanks to my niece, Janelle, for turning me onto Muse.
Thank you Muse, for helping me to feel…more.
My deep gratitude goes out to my writers group - Ann Noser, Mike Kalmbach, and Christa Worrell. Good luck with your own stories.
I love you Ashley, Cortiney and Lindsey.
Thanks to Joan Sween, the Minnesota Writer’s Alliance, Connie L., and the members of the Rochester MN Writers Group of 2009.
A big shout-out to my YA test-readers: Kelly Ziemer, Brianna Allen, Cindy Turner, Ashley McGowean, and Alexa Sundeen.
Thank you to the rest of my supporting family and friends. You mean the world to me.
PROLOGUE
I ALREADY KNEW I was going to miss his kiss more than I’d miss my friends, and we hadn’t even kissed yet.
Chapter One
THE END
STARING OUT MY BEDROOM WINDOW with my forehead pressed against the windowpane, the hot air from my breath fogged the glass in a tiny circle with each jagged exhale.
This had become the worst day of my life.
Late in the evening, the temperature of the window against my skin felt more like autumn than spring. Outside, the sky had lost its color. An unanswered question continued to threaten the core of my stability I’d come to trust: How could he do this to me?
Within the giant “how” tumbled two more thoughts, each specific to “now what?” I had pretty much narrowed my choices down to two options: drown in my pit of misery, or rise above myself and embrace the move. Either way I’d have to say good-bye to everything I’d ever loved.
Bits and pieces of previous conversations tumbled inside my brain. Dad, Mom, my sister Kat, and I all agreed that a new house would be good for us. A bigger house, better suited to our needs—toy storage for Kat, a place for me to practice my guitar, and whatever it was that parents thought necessary. We agreed as a family.
Somehow, I’d been deceived.
For the past twenty-odd years, Dad has been the owner of a gun shop located on the edge of Topeka. Once rural, the area was now prime for development. On more than one occasion, I had overheard his worries concerning possible new homeowners objecting to his outdoor shooting range. Once, I even saw him wink at Mom when he told her that he was all right with her wearing a tight skirt to the judge’s chambers in order to keep his zoning license and permits.
I hated him, but not because of his business or crude sense of humor. I hated him because he didn’t even have the decency to apologize for ruining my life.
Just a few hours ago, Dad came speeding home from work happier than usual, calling for Mom, even before getting the white diesel truck into park. Kat and I were outside playing basketball.
“Hey, kids!” Dad shouted. His boyish grin still outshined the gray at his temples. I inwardly laughed as I watched him skip into the garage where Mom was, preparing flower pots.
“Izzy! Izzy!” I heard him call. “I bought a house!”
The basketball bounced off my head. At the very moment I opened my mouth to laugh because I had not been hurt, my ears began to burn at the horrific words my mother spoke: “We can make the commute, but this means new schools for the children...”
Like a shock wave from a huge explosion, the news hit me full force, almost knocking me to the ground; my perfect world had just ended prematurely. Kat looked up at me, her words echoed in my head, “Are you okay?”
No, I was not okay. My father, the hero that I trusted without waver, had just stabbed me in the back.
Mom grumbled something and headed in the house, wiping her dirty hands on her apron as she walked. Dad trailed off after her. Filled with disbelief, I felt compelled to follow. I had to see the man who had just demolished my life.
They made it as far as the entry way; he was standing there, excitement radiating from his smile. “It’s so beau-ti-ful out there,” Dad said without hearing what Mom was implying. “We’ll have eleven acres.”
She didn’t take the bait. “Emily is a junior this year.”
“Kathryn will love it. She’ll have room to run around and play. It’s just what every seven-year-old needs.”
Mom didn’t return the smile. “You had no right to do this, John! Your midlife crisis should be about buying a little red sports car, not a—”
“I don’t like sports cars,” Dad retorted, rather meekly.
Mom stomped off. The next thing I heard was a slamming door. Probably the bedroom door; the one place a woman could go to hide, no matter her age. I slammed my own next.
*
Still in my bedroom, frozen in a catatonic stupor, I sensed a presence behind me. Turning awkwardly, I kept my head pressed against the glass. Pain radiated from my mother’s eyes despite her otherwise neutral expression. By now she had changed out of her work clothes and into a pair of lounging pajamas, her straight deep auburn hair still pulled back in a clasp.
“Although you may feel like it, Emily, it’s not the end of the world.” Mom took my hand and led me away from the window. “And you have Bunny. I know she’ll help.”
Bunny was like a Band-Aid for my heart. The white stuffed rabbit dangled beside me as I held it by its ears. Yes, I was too old for a stuffed animal, but I didn’t care. It didn’t seem right to cast her away. After all, I’d had her for as long as I could remember, and she was a wonderful friend, never complaining about her missing black button eye or her fluffy cotton-tail worn smooth. Plopping down on the edge of my bed, Bunny sprawled out next to me.
“You just don’t get it, Mom.”
Her eyes asked her question.
“Alex asked me to be his partner for the English project today.”
“You and Alex have been friends for a long time…”
Yes, that much was true. Pictures of the two of us were scattered about my room. “But it was different today.” Pain swelled in my heart. “I could just feel it.”
“You’re hoping he’ll ask you to prom?” she asked.
“It’s not just about prom. It’s bigger than that.” I knew I was getting ahead of myself, but I’d been dreaming about this fairytale with a happy ending for a while now. I’d been dreaming about… a kiss.
“I wish I could say I understand, but when I switched high schools, well, that was a long time ago.”
“Did you ever get over it?” I looked at Mom, hoping to hear something good.
She hesitated and finally exhaled loudly through her nose. “Derek Houser was the boy I left behind. I don’t think anyone ever completely gets over their first love. Still, if you focus on the good in your life, it will help you get through the rough stuff. Besides, the new house is just a few miles past Silver Lake. Maybe it won’t be so bad.” Leaning over, she pressed her lips against the top of my head. “I love you, and I’m always here for you.” Then she added a smile. “Now get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”
Mom turned and left me alone in silence. The forced smile on my lips began to quiver as my brave façade started to crumble. I needed a new hero.
Mom had a hero. It was Job, a persevering man described in the Old Testament. I considered adopting him as my hero. Then the second passed. Persevering was something I could not fathom at this particular moment. Hope of a quick and painless death was more like it. Imagining a meteorite falling from outer space and making a direct hit while I slept in my bed, felt oddly comforting at this particular moment.
As I sat in the stillness, my life took on a surreal quality as the realization that my very room, my school, my friends, my fairytale, were all about to evaporate in the aftermath of an atomic explosion. Everything would be gone. The thirty miles to the new house might as well be three hundred. My father had dropped a bomb. And somehow I’d become an unarmed soldier summoned with draft papers to a war I didn’t know existed.
I looked at my stuffed white rabbit. Her expression told me she understood. I swooped Bunny up in my arms and held her tight. Nuzzling into the soft patch of fur between her long ears, I rubbed my chin across her fuzzy white hair, becoming lost in thought.
Kat startled me when she came in to say goodnight.
“You should be in bed,” I said.
“I was reading a book with Dad,” she replied. “Are you going to bed soon?”
“Soon.”
Her small face brightened. “Can I sleep with you?”
“Not tonight.”
Her lower lip plumped.
“Some other time. Now leave me alone.” Watching Kat mope back out into the hall made me feel bad, but there was no way could I deal with life if she were in my room, and that’s assuming I could deal with it at all.
Emotionally drained, my body tipped over and my head bounced on the pillow. “It’s not the end of the world. I can do this.”
Then I waited for the statement to take hold.
Who was I trying to kid? This move is going to kill me. Tears that were strangely cold rolled off my cheeks and soaked my pillow. Traitor.
~ ~ ~
Chapter Two
ALEX
THE WEEKEND PASSED BY in a slow-motion fog. If someone were to ask me what happened, I wouldn’t be able to give any details except that my father had crossed over into enemy territory and blew up my life. I wasn’t certain about anything anymore, except that I was suffering from shell shock, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or some other form of psychological war trauma.
Now Monday morning, I’d soon be facing my friends for the first time since hearing the “good news.” I had no idea how to tell them about it and I looked upon this task with the same feeling as walking in front of a firing squad. Standing in front of the mirror, I tried out a few ice breakers:
“Hey everyone, I’m moving in a month and I’ll probably never see you again.” Too histrionic.
“I have terrible news….” Too emo.
“Guess what, I’m moving!” Too animated.
“My dad has single-handedly ruined my life!” Too dramatic.
Crap.
Just as I was about to cave into self-pity, a new idea began to take shape. Maybe I’d just pretend I wasn’t going to move. I loved denial! It made life so much easier to cope with.
Continuing with my pre-outing prep and blow-drying my hair, thoughts of the school play popped into my head, cutting short my new-found enthusiasm. Opening night for the school play would be here in no time. Rather than being excited, the idea made me feel a little ill. And overwhelmed. Somehow, I’d have to find the energy to keep up the long rehearsal hours and pretend my life wasn’t about to end.
A new brigade of hot tears rolled down my face, reinforcing the idea that nothing in life was certain. The hollow pit lingering in my stomach swelled against my heart, interfering with the love I felt for the stage. Why did Dad have to ruin my life?
After dabbing my tears with a tissue in an attempt to save my mascara, I leaned in close to the mirror to check for damage and caught a glimpse of my internal mood-rings which revealed a brownish-hazel color. Depressed: go figure. I doubted my eyes would ever be blue again. Returning to my hair, I brushed it until it shone, but I still didn’t feel pretty. I never felt pretty, even though I was often told I was. Leaning to the side, the long strands fell into open space, exposing the dark brown low-lights Mom added to the under-layer a few weeks back. Mom’s comment to keep track of the good things rang through my head. Shiny hair was a start.
With my morning routine complete, I headed for the kitchen to grab an apple out of the fruit bowl and considered sneaking off to school without all the normal morning conversation. That was my other favorite coping skill, avoidance.
“Stop right there, young lady,” Mom called from the dining table where the rest of the family was gathered.
I let go of the doorknob.
Mom was big on the family eating together. “Gangs!” she would state. “If you don’t have family, you have gangs.” She got up from her chair and repeatedly pointed to her cheek as she approached me.
“Sorry, Mom.” I pecked a kiss on her cheek. Mom was known to the public as Elizabeth Stokes, an avid volunteer at the Boys’ and Girls’ Club. She was always in the news. She was less known for her love of Edgar Allen Poe, fascination with criminal psychology, or her paid work as a probation officer in Shawnee County.
“I get one!” Kat bellowed as she tore around the corner. Her semi-curly brown hair was wild, still not combed.
Arms out, I leaned down, trying to prepare myself for the assault.
With a track and field style long jump, Kat launched herself into the air and hooked her arms around my neck, nearly causing permanent damage.
“You must be practicing,” I groaned, staggering backwards.
“How could you tell?”
“I’m psychic. So, I also know you’re going to have a great day at school.” Prying her arms off my neck, she dropped to the floor. “See ya later, Kitty.”
Grabbing my backpack, I ignored Dad, who was sitting at the table looking my way.
*
Walking out to my car, I knew I had to pour the charm on Alex if I was going to get him to ask me to the dance. My stomach tightened as I tried not to think about how thirty miles was long enough to kill friendships, force me into a new school district, and wreak havoc in my life, but short enough for parents to commute to their same jobs every day. Placing all my faith in the English project, I begged God to work a miracle. After cranking the ignition switch, I added a final “please” and began the short drive to school.
Until a few months ago, I didn’t want a boyfriend. All because of Zachary Melcomb. He had been the boy who’d completely destroyed my childhood fantasies of the romantic first kiss, and any dating that could lead to another kiss. His kiss made me not want to kiss another boy for five years. It wasn’t just nasty, it was naaasty! I still remember his fat slimy tongue jetting into my mouth like some trained walrus searching for a treat, the feeling of extra spit sloshing in my mouth—his tongue whirling wildly beside my tonsils until I gagged! My body still responds with a repulsive shudder just thinking about it.
But as of late, when I look at Alex Hibbs, I secretly desire a romantic kiss. Not just any old kiss, but one that makes you weak in the knees and defines true love. The all-important, all-encompassing kiss: that’s what I dreamed of. That’s what I wanted.
Not like there was any pressure or anything.
I knew if I could make it to English, I’d make it through today. Alex always made me feel better. His hysterical sense of humor made me laugh. And how I loved to imagine running my fingers through his thick, black hair that was always kept at the perfect length of needing a haircut yesterday. He definitely made it a little easier to get up this morning, but a whole lot harder to face the move.
But I had my plan! A great plan that involved wooing.
My insides seemed to grow warm just thinking about it. Indeed, I was beginning to believe I could survive.
As I pulled into the Topeka West parking lot, I noticed the girls already huddled together. Bailey, Clair, and Rayyan each already had steady boyfriends, and of course, they were going to prom. Making a quick search further down the parking aisles, I felt my cheeks tighten as I spied Alex’s black Jeep. At least I had three good things going for me today. Getting out of my car, I could hear the girls’ conversation. Dress shopping for prom. Tonight.
“Where do you want to go?” Rayyan scanned our faces.
“I think we should look at Sylvester’s, the fancy little boutique at Fairlawn Plaza.” Clair’s eyes lit up like fireworks.
“Isn’t that really expensive?” Rayyan began the procession to the entrance.
“I’ve always had really good luck at J.C. Penney,” Bailey offered.
“Really?” Clair looked skeptical.
“My mom would like it if I could keep the cost down,” Rayyan admitted. Everyone nodded in agreement, even me.
Rayyan noticed. “Did Alex ask you?” All eyes locked on me.
“No…” I heaved a sigh. Somehow my diabolical plan suddenly seemed stupid.
“I’m not surprised. He’s so…” Bailey made a face that included sticking out her tongue.
“Stop picking on Alex. He’s a nice guy! Besides, you can’t hold him responsible for all the crap that has happened in his family,” I responded hotly.
“I guess every dysfunctional family has its normal member.” Sarcasm oozed from Bailey’s words.
“I think you and Alex would make a nice couple,” Clair said. “You should come with me to Sylvester’s after school since it’s so close. You want to impress him, don’t you?”
“Ah…”
“But you think Alex will ask,” Rayyan asked, no doubt wanting details.
“Yes!” The word ended in a hiss. “I think Alex will ask me.” He had to ask.
“Why don’t you just ask him?” Bailey scoffed.
I stopped walking and faced them all. “Because that doesn’t count. If I ask, we’re still just friends. But if he asks, I’ll get a kiss at the end of the night.” I turned and stomped off for the door without them. “I want a kiss!” I yelled back.
With my good mood squelched yet again, I knew it would take every last ounce of energy I had to get through this day. As I drew near the school building, even the simple brick design annoyed me and I wondered when architectural flair went out of style? Why couldn’t Dad have picked a new house next to Topeka High? At least they got to enter through a majestic entryway every day.
Find the good, Mom’s words rang in my head.
“Okay, Mom,” I murmured to myself. They get a spectacular building, but T-West has “the best band in the land,” and I was part of it.
“See you later, Emily,” one of my friends called from behind.
“At lunch,” I mumbled, still irritated.
As I hurried down the hall, the day’s priorities and events tumbled into order. I liked starting the day with band; our teacher was great. He actually seemed excited whenever I asked permission to add yet another woodwind to my repertoire. I suppose my gratitude should belong to my ex-hero father who never tired of buying me instruments, including my real passion, the guitar.
Life wrecker.
I never looked forward to second hour, trigonometry. Insider information claimed that all higher mathematics were created by the Devil himself, but then I knew not to believe everything I heard. Other rumors had my third hour teacher dating the math teacher, which may explain why she always showed a movie on days following really hard math tests. Unfortunately, she had a movie scheduled for today.
Up until this past Friday, Spanish had been my favorite class. It had been a goal of mine to convince Mrs. Linz to approach the school board and suggest the course be turned into a cultural-language class that focused on the impact Spain and Mexico have had on our nation’s history with a mandatory trip to Spain!
But, starting today, the newest reason why I liked third hour was because it came directly before the only truly important class of the day: English. With Alex Hibbs! And today, that’s what mattered most.
Entering the door to my first class, I checked the clock on the wall and then my pocket to make sure I had a piece of gum so my breath would be fresh when fourth hour came.
7:40 am. Have gum.
C-sharp-not-B-flat-8:11 am…8:22 am…Bell-has-rung-time-for-next-class-8:35 am…Pain-of-death-math-test-8:51 am…8:55 am…9:01 am…9:03 am…9:04 am…9:20 am…Thank-God-that-is-over-9:37 am…This-movie-is-boring-10:06 am…10:15 am…10:17 am…
Finally! 10:35 am. Time for English!
Even though I sat by Alex every day, today I had butterflies. He was already sitting in his chair when I walked into the room. I popped the gum into my mouth.
Please, let the plan work.
“Hi,” I said, a bit overzealously as I took my seat next to him.
“Hey, how’s it going?” It sounded more like a statement than a question. He was messing with his cell phone, but shook his head, briefly exposing his steel blue eyes that were usually hidden beneath his thick black hair.
“We get to start on our project today.” I leaned in towards him, trying to appear irresistible.
“Yeah, this should be good,” he replied without looking up.
Hello! Girl trying to flirt.
Mrs. Stoffer began distributing the project outline before the bell rang. “If you are not already sitting by your partner, please do so now.”
He put his phone in his pocket and looked at me.
I smiled what I hoped to be a sexy smile. Butterflies fluttered through my stomach a second time.
“Is your cell broken?” he asked.
What? The butterflies turned into lead. I can’t believe I didn’t even look at my cell phone over the weekend…he looks mad. “I’m sorry. Family stuff came up. You know how it goes,” I said.
“I suppose,” Alex replied, not appearing completely convinced.
“The final project for the year will be a documentary based upon the characters you and your partner create. It can be presented in either written or video form, as described in the outline,” Mrs. Stoffer continued.
“What would you like to do?” Alex whispered close to my ear resulting in an involuntary shiver and an image of him and me locked in a steamy first kiss.
My thoughts felt exposed as Mrs. Stoffer slapped the outline down on my desk, making both Alex and me jerk back against our chairs.
I couldn’t very well tell him what I was honestly thinking, so using my best flirtatious luscious-lip-lick, I said, “Wouldn’t it be great to make a movie?” instead.
He smiled. “I knew I hung around you for a reason. You’re a lot of fun.”
Well, that made four things going for me: shiny hair, being a member of the best band in the entire state of Kansas, sitting next to Alex, and him thinking I was fun.
“So, what should the movie be about?” he asked.
I glanced over the paper Mrs. Stoffer gave us. “It says we need a minimum of two characters in our story.”
“Well, we have a male and a female.” His hand motioned between us.
“How about pre-dating jitters?” I regretted my words as soon as they were out.
Alex’s face went flat.
“Or not.” I winced.
“But a boy-girl meeting seems to be a logical direction,” he said.
As we created the characters for our plot, I found myself thinking about other things—like his hair, his secretive blue eyes, going to a movie together, holding hands… him leaning over and kissing me.
“Why are you being so resistant!” What just came out of my mouth?
Stunned, Alex stared. “Excuse me?”
I gawked back. Oh crap!
“Something about resistance?” His eyebrow curved as he tapped his pencil on the desk.
I had to think of something fast. “Ahh…The Renaissance. You know, they could meet…never mind. Dumb idea.”
“Blondes,” Alex sneered, smacking his elbows on the desk to create a doubled-fisted platform for his chin.
Thankful I didn’t blow my plan before I had the chance to implement it, I stuck to the assignment from here on out. Our story evolved into the plot of a self-made documentary made by a serial killer. Alex would star as the psycho killer and I would be one of his tortured victims. It was deliciously bad. We laughed so hard at our tasteless project I was surprised the teacher didn’t kick us out.
Then all too soon, the bell rang, eliciting the entire class to their feet like a group of Pavlov’s dogs.
Alex’s expression turned serious. “We should get together and work on this after school.” His tone of voice turned somber, quite different from our hysterical laughter. Then he reached for my hand and turned it palm side up, drawing in a smiley face with his finger.
“Oh.” Not expecting the question or the hand holding, my knees became a bit wobbly. I could tell that this was different from the other times he asked me to hang out. “I have plans tonight, but, I could change them. You could stay for dinner.” The butterflies went crazy in my stomach.
“That’s okay. Keep your plans, but I work tomorrow so how about Wednesday?”
“Play practice. Thursday?” I was sure my heart was thumping so hard he’d be able to hear it.
His lips curved to a grin. “That will work.” Then he patted his stomach. “Is dinner still in the offer? I love your mom’s cooking.”
“Sure is,” I said, hoping he was more eager to see me than to eat my mom’s food.
“We’ll just keep working on the story plot in class until then.” Scooping his books up off the desk he said, “I don’t want to be late for my next class. See you later, Em.”
Alex left me standing on cloud nine with dreams of a happily-ever-after fairytale. Watching him walk away, I was curious what it must be like for a guy who was interested in a girl. Did they ever get butterflies or weak in the knees? Or was it limited to the boner inside their pants? And if so, did he ever get one for me?
Shame on me! At any rate, the plan seemed to be working and it was going to be outrageously fun. I had to get to the cafeteria to fill in my buds—he held my hand!
~ ~ ~
Chapter Three
THE DRESS
“HOW DID YOUR DAY GO, EM?”
Mom asked as she handed me a china bowl of steaming mashed potatoes. Mom was big into family dinnertime, too.
“Lovely,” I cooed, taking the beautiful bowl from my mother’s hands and twirled toward the dining table, feeling my long hair flow with me. Magically, over the course of the school day, my shell-shocked daze had been transformed into a ballet dance performed to the melody heard only in my head.
“Lovely, huh? Do please tell, what makes a school day ‘lovely?’”
Returning to the kitchen, I distinctly recalled drawing hearts on notebook paper that surrounded the initials E.S. + A.H. during the last two class periods. “I’m doing a fun project in English, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” Mom stopped whisking the gravy and looked up. “Strange, I’ve never heard you describe English in such a way before.”
“I was right, Mom. He likes me.”
“Alex?”
The words blurted out, “He held my hand today in class.”
“In class?” Dad repeated, walking into the kitchen, just in time to interrupt. “That Alex kid? And you let him?”
I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him.
“You sure know how to ruin a moment.” Mom scowled at Dad, then looked at me. “Having a date for prom is looking a little more promising.” She went to check the calendar hanging on the side of the fridge. “Let’s see, he has about three weeks to ask?”
“I hope he asks sooner than later. I don’t want to be stuck with an ugly dress.”
“Don’t worry! Now if your hands are washed, please sit down. Someone call Kathryn first.”
*
“I think it’s important to finish the last few weeks of the school year with all the enthusiasm as we normally would,” Mom proclaimed as she passed another china bowl filled with fresh green beans laced with sliced almonds.
She was no doubt referring to Kat’s track and field season and my regularly over-booked schedule of band concerts, art club, year book committee meetings, and the upcoming school rendition of Prelude to a Kiss.
And don’t forget about prom (with Alex Hibbs).
“What’s the play about?” Kat asked, and then applied another layer of milk-mustache.
“It’s about an old man who kisses a bride-to-be and they swap souls in the process.”
“Creepy.” Kat crinkled her nose.
“And disturbing. But it’s still been a lot of fun.”
“I can’t wait to hear the band concert.” Dad smiled and reached out to touch my arm.
I pulled it away, pretending to have something in my eye. My ex-hero father went back to eating his mashed potatoes dripping with excessive gravy. He made me nauseous.
“After I kick butt at McCarter this year, I’m gonna kick some more at the new school next year!” Kat blurted.
Obviously she was okay with country living.
Dad found a new smile. “That’s my girl,” he cheered.
I sat and wondered if it was more of a self-serving cheer than for her athletic ability. And what about Kat? She seemed not to care at all about moving. How could she not be sad? Wouldn’t she miss her friends, too? Perhaps she was just too young and couldn’t fully understand the impending loss. Stirring the chocolate powder into my milk, I thought to ponder this later. I really didn’t want to spoil my good mood.
*
“What’s on for tonight?” Mom asked as we cleared the table of dirty dinner plates and empty serving dishes.
“We’re going to West Ridge Mall to look for dresses.” I didn’t have to tell her that the individuals included in “we” were Rayyan, Bailey, Clair, and of course, me. “I’m not going to get a dress just yet,” I pouted, “but I do want to be prepared.”
Mom kindly withheld the judgment I saw in her eyes, and tried to cover it up with a smile of endearment.
I grabbed my purse and reached in for the car keys. I loved my car. That was another positive thing in my life. It was a blue VW Love Bug with green flames painted on the front. Dad even sprang for a customized license plate that read ONFIRE. I got it for my seventeenth birthday present, a reward for being an accident-free driver. That was about the only perk of having a November birthday—I got my license earlier than most other kids in my grade.
Just as I was ready to slip the gearshift in reverse to back out of my spot along side the house, Kat came bounding out through the door yelling and waving her arms.
“Wait!” she screamed, running to the driver’s side window. Poking her head inside, she asked, “Can I come?”
I took a deep breath and held it. I looked at her cute little face and her cute little eyes and her cute pouting lower lip quivering in exaggeration. Little sisters were so annoying. “Get in, Kitty.” I said, pointing to the back seat with my thumb.
“Yesss.” She smiled, clenching her fist and pulling it in toward her belly. “I gotta tell Mom. Don’t leave.” She darted back inside the house, with her hair still appearing uncombed.
She returned moments later accompanied by Mom clutching her gardening supplies. I blew Mom a kiss which she quickly snatched out of the sky and planted on her lips.
*
Shopping for the perfect dress with my three best friends became quite the adventure. With our arms loaded down with a heap of dresses, the fitting room became a fashion runway. We tried on long and sleek, short and frilly, bold and pleated, beaded and scratchy. My favorite worst dress was the very short, super ruffle-y dress Bailey tried on.
“I look like the frickin’ tooth fairy,” Bailey piped. “Somebody get me a magic wand.”
“You have to get it,” Clair exclaimed. “I’ll pay you fifty dollars if you wear it.”
“I have sparkly wings you could borrow,” Kat added.
Although the dress was way too short, I had to admit Bailey looked…like the tooth fairy. And no one wants to look like an elf at a school dance.
I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed so hard or had this much fun. Even Kat had a blast pretending to be a famous know-it-all fashion critique as she announced each dress as we walked down the imaginary runway. I’d have to thank her later.
As the mall announced it was closing in ten minutes, time became relevant. Bailey and Rayyan each purchased a dress from J.C. Penney. Clair decided to go back to Sylvester’s Boutique to compare. We laughed some more on our way through the parking lot as we relived the trial and error process of trying on nearly every dress in every single store. Mom would kill me if she knew what a mess we left behind in the dressing rooms.
Rayyan tossed her purse into the passenger’s front seat of Bailey’s car. They lived close to each other so often shared a ride. A heated wisp of envy dashed through me as I watched them carefully pack their bags containing brand new shoes and jewelry that perfectly matched their brand new evening dresses.
“I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Clair reached out to begin the exchange of hugs. Kat looked up and did her pouting lip thing. My friends hugged her, too.
“Let’s get home, Kitty.” I grabbed her hand and walked towards my fiery painted Bug. Clair turned and went the other way. Then the sickening pains of moving jarred me again. I was going to miss the convenience of the city. We were just minutes away from everything, living on a cul-de-sac just off Fairlawn. Both our schools were just south of our house, off Fairlawn. The shopping malls were just off Fairlawn. Everything that mattered was just off Fairlawn.
*
Although it seemed like forever, it had only been six days since Dad had informed us we’d be moving. While it was my intent to embrace the move, I was failing miserably and my scheme to cope with life was seriously malfunctioning. The part of my plan that included “denial” kept faltering and I never knew when another round of random tears would break through. Not even play practice stopped the tears today. Then there was the other part of my diabolical plan that involved Alex, which was not working as I had hoped, either. In fact, it didn’t seem to be working at all. Desperation was setting in.
I was sitting at the kitchen table eating chocolate chip cookies and feeling the need to succumb to childish ploys that involved my friends asking Alex seemingly innocent questions about topics like prom, when Mom came home from work, disrupting my thoughts. She was holding a very long bag over her arm.
My mouth dropped open in surprise. Knowing exactly what it was, I grabbed it out of her arms asking, “What is it?”
“Kat told me about it,” Mom began. “She was all worried about it being the dress you admired the most and the only one in existence.”
“Where is Kitty anyway?” The nickname began as a taunt but now it just seemed to fit.
“Dad took some time off and the two are practicing the softball throw.”
Hearing his name, I realized I was still mad at him. Home wrecker. But that didn’t matter now. I refocused on the very long plastic bag and held it up just as if I could see the dress that was hidden underneath. “You’re the best!”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom. Thanks.” I bounded off to my room for the unveiling.
To prolong the anticipation, I removed the plastic covering a little slower than necessary. As I untied the bottom of the bag, soft white silk began to spill out like a graceful waterfall. The intricate beaded flowers decorated the front of the dress, starting at knee length and bloomed lavishly up the bodice. It was not gaudy in the least. It was just as delicate and beautiful as I remembered. Thin spaghetti straps held the masterpiece on the hanger. I had to try it on again to make sure it still looked the same.
The day’s clothes were in a pile on the floor. The room felt warm as I stood there in my undies. After pulling down the zipper, I lowered the dress to step in. The cool silk warmed up quickly as it glided across my skin. I couldn’t quite reach the top end of the zipper to fully close the back of the dress but that didn’t matter all that much right now. I stepped in front of the mirror to rate my reflection. This dress…this amazing dress! For the first time ever, I thought of myself as beautiful.
I dared myself to keep believing in the fairytale.
~ ~ ~
Chapter Four
LIFE SUCKS
IT WAS GETTING HARDER and harder for Alex to crawl out of bed. He hadn’t slept well in months. It always seemed that he finally got to sleep just when the alarm was about to go off. He grabbed his jeans from off the floor and a clean shirt out of the closet. After pulling a comb through his wet hair, he headed out the door.
*
He hated to walk past the garage. It was the reason he couldn’t sleep.
~ ~ ~
Chapter Five
FEARS
I AWOKE TO A BITTERSWEET MORNING. I smiled because Alex would be coming over tonight to work on the video, yet, as the move drew nearer, I wondered why I continued to kid myself. Even if Alex did ask me to prom, I doubted that a relationship would survive the miles. Looking over at the amazing dress that hung from my closet door frame, I felt fear, but not about prom. Prom was just the cover-up. I was afraid that I’d never find another Alex, I’d never get my kiss, and I’d never live my fairytale.
Shifting back into my comfort zone of denial, I waited for the hot water to run from the showerhead. I gave myself a pep talk to not waste time dwelling on the future.
“I must be strong,” I spoke the words aloud, hoping for greater effect. Or, at least some effect.
Finally stepping into the shower, the spray washed over my face, making my tears indistinguishable from the rest of the water. I had no right to say it, but I really hated life. I wanted to stay in the shower until every last bit of sorrow washed down the drain.
I emerged just as miserable as I had entered. Like every other morning, after dressing, I put on a little make-up. I liked the way it accented my eyes. But then instead of my usual clear lip-gloss, I opted for bright pink lipstick. Like a clown, my smile needed to be painted on.
It was Thursday, which meant a late start. Mom would already be at work. I made my way to the kitchen and found a note next to a bowl of deep red strawberries waiting on the counter, both from Mom, telling me that she loved me, to eat my breakfast, and have a great day. As I popped a berry in my mouth, I became aware of Dad and Kat sitting at the table.
“Good morning, Em,” Dad called out at me. I didn’t realize it until this second, but we hadn’t spoken since the foreboding news. I looked down at the floor, then back up at him. I nodded my head.
“Good morning, Grumpy-pants,” Kathryn, the annoying, spouted off. At least it broke the tension.
“You’d better run!” I shouted and chased after the screaming, wild brown hair that still didn’t look like it had been combed.
*
The school parking lot was already filling up with the other one thousand or so students that attended T-West. Some kids like to park close to the doors. I liked to park near the exit to avoid the always-congested dismissal rush. Bailey, along with Rayyan, parked next to me.
“Hey, when do tickets go on sale for the play? It’s next weekend, right?” Rayyan asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Don’t be so excited.” Bailey shifted her books to the other arm.
“I think they go on sale Monday. Where’s Clair?” I asked as I reached behind the back seat of my car to grab my woodwind instruments from their hiding spot. A moan escaped as the lack of practicing skimmed my thoughts.
“She texted me that she’d be late,” Rayyan responded, grabbing her backpack from the floor of her car. “Something about a hair appointment.”
“What? Missing school for hair?” I rolled my eyes.
“She’s all freaked about a hairstyle to match her dress from Sylvester’s,” Rayyan continued.
“Prom is ‘only two weeks away,’” Bailey piped in, making fun of Clair.
A lot of people thought Clair was stuck on herself because she spent so much time on her looks. Once I got to know her, it was obvious she was just insecure. Still, it didn’t help her case for her mom to let her miss school for a hair appointment.
Making our way toward the entrance, I finally saw Alex’s big black Jeep. An elusive smile spread across my face.
“You know,” Bailey said, after noticing my eyes on Alex’s Jeep, “that must have been really awful, to walk into the garage and see your Dad with his brains blown all over the wall.”
I ignored her.
Rayyan elbowed her in the ribs.
“I wonder if it was as bloody as the rumors claim?” Bailey didn’t catch the obvious hint to shut up. “I heard it took two bullets.”
“Maybe you should go wonder somewhere else,” I said.
“I don’t mean to be critical, but it happened over a year ago. A normal person would be over it by now. Quite honestly, Emily, I don’t know what you see in him, anyway. He gives me the creeps. His eyes are so pale, they’re almost white.”
“Man, I can’t believe you are so insensitive,” I rebuked.
“I think he’s cute,” Rayyan said.
Oblivious to the surrounding mood, Bailey began nodding in self approval. “Maybe he has a fear of attachment or something because of it. Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t ask you to prom.”
“Who died and made you Dr. Phil? I don’t care what you think. I like Alex, so just keep your opinions to yourself!”
“Like I said before, I don’t mean to be rude.” Bailey shrugged her shoulders.
“Then stop bashing him. Besides, I still believe he’s going to ask me.”
Bailey’s expression changed from scornful to mild glee. “I think you should find someone else.”
Rayyan groaned. “Don’t start this again.”
“Who? Zachary Melcomb?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“Don’t be such a baby. There are more boys out there than Zachary and Alex.”
“Not the way I see it.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot about the fireman who rescued you when you were little. Maybe he’ll come back and marry you.”
My heart jumped to my throat. I couldn’t believe she would use that against me. “I still cherish that memory!”
“Like I said, don’t be such a baby.”
Some days I really hated Bailey. Mostly because she was right and not afraid to say it. Unfortunately for me, Bailey’s words infected the rest of my school day. Like a simple sliver that started out painless, it became an oozing sore. Doubts about Alex asking me to prom were becoming hard to ignore.
*
Walking back to my car, I recapped my entire day with one single word: crap. Especially after Mrs. Stoffer decided to show a documentary, leaving me no chance to flirt with Alex. Throwing my books and instruments in the passenger seat, I looked back over to where Alex’s Jeep had been this morning.
“Oh criminy!” His car was already gone. “He’s going to beat me home.” I looked around to see if anyone noticed I was talking out loud to myself. Safe.
Suddenly, life didn’t seem so bad.
*
Luck saw to it that I arrived home first to clean up the pigsty that decorated the living room. Alex was going to be here at any moment to work on the movie and this place was a disaster! I grabbed the tablature sheets for my guitar that were spread out all over the floor and stacked them in a sloppy pile on the coffee table. I found seven dirty socks Kat had scatter-bombed around the couch. The eighth one must be lost somewhere in the cushions. Mom made it clear that her job title did not include “maid.” Kat made it obvious she was okay with that. I threw the seven down the laundry chute and came back for a final inspection. It would have to pass.
Realizing Kat was not in the middle of my business, I surmised that she and Dad must have been practicing for track ‘n’ field days again.
Just as I was about to plop on the couch, I heard a car pull up in the driveway. I saw Mom’s car. The front door opened and in walked Alex.
“Alex, what are you doing here?” He was carrying a bag of groceries.
He gave me a puzzled look. “I thought we were working on the movie today.”
Realizing my stupid question, I rephrased. “I mean, I didn’t hear you pull up.”
“Thank you for your help, Alex.” Mom smiled.
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Stokes.” He put the bag on the kitchen counter and added, “You are looking exceptionally nice this afternoon.”
Mom liked his flattery; she knew he wasn’t really interested in her so she enjoyed it. “I hope you like shrimp fettuccini,” she replied as she unloaded the bag.
Alex and I headed for the living room and laid out our storyboard on the coffee table. I sat on the floor across from him so I could look directly at him. It made for easier flirting. We decided to change the character from a serial killer to a random guy committing a single murder for the sole purpose of filming it. We had most of the work completed and just had to come up with a plausible ending.
“How about after he makes the movie, he is so overwhelmed by his actions, he decides to take his own life?” The thought of his father popped into my head and I grimaced. “Or not. I’m sorry.”
Alex exhaled loudly. “No foul, it’s cool. It could work. We could have him hang himself.”
Relieved I didn’t ruin our fun, my enthusiasm grew. “Yeah, like you can hear him talking as he puts the camera down on a table or something, and the lens is pointed off to the side so you only see part of him, he could be throwing a rope up over a beam….”
I didn’t pay much attention to the tantalizing smell coming from the kitchen; of Kat complaining it was not her night to set the table with dishes, or anything else that occurred in the house over the next hour and a half. Lost in the moment and each other, it felt strange talking about murder and death while seductive thoughts lingered just below the surface.
*
“Time to eat!” Kat yelled at ear level directly behind us.
Alex got up off the couch first and extended his hand to me. Accepting his help, I tried not to smile too big when he kept it, all the way to the table. At last the plan was working, and I could visualize the fairytale ending in the romantic kiss I dreamed about.