Blue Eyes and Other Teenage Hazards (6 page)

“GET OFF THE SIDEWALK!”

I pulled the car forward and back onto the street.

He waved his notepad in the direction of the sidewalk. “Now go pick up those bikes!” I got out of the car. By now classes had let out and a crowd was gathered. A few of the college students clapped again as I set up the bikes.

When I got back into the car, I knew my face was bright red.

“All right, now finish your parking job.”

“Can’t I go crawl into a hole somewhere?”

Another dour look. “I always make applicants finish the test, no matter how patetiglybag de mezzeled.” Then he wrote down more on his notepad, mumbling more things.

I parked perfectly this time, but Mr. Jensen didn’t even pay attention. He was still busy writing. The college students all noticed, however. They gave me a standing ovation.

Back at the DMV, Mom was waiting in the parking lot. It may have been my imagination, but it seemed to me that Mr. Jensen jumped out of the car a little quicker than he needed to. I got out slowly.

“How did it go, honey?” Mom looked over my shoulder to Mr. Jensen. “Why is he looking at the back bumper like that?” I cleared my throat. “Well, there was this bike rack—”

Without waiting for me to finish my explanation, she hurried over to examine the back of our car. I followed. In my embarrassment over the whole parking episode, I hadn’t even looked at the car for damage. Now the thought horrified me. I scanned the bumper for dents, but didn’t find any. I was unspeakably relieved.

Mr. Jensen handed me my test results. “You can try again in a week. Work on your paral ell parking. Ge cem dofaks.”

“Uh . . . yeah.”

On the way home Mom tried to console me.

“Everyone makes mistakes occasionally. Next week you’ll pass with flying colors.”

“Strangers stopped to watch me, Mom. They clapped while I picked up bikes.”

“Neither you, nor they will remember this day twenty years from now.”

“I will.”

“We’ll practice every day this week . . . in your father’s car.”

I folded my arms. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

* * *

“What are you going to do for an encore? Run someone down?”

“Only if it’s Mr. Jensen. It was all his fault. He made me so nervous.”

Josh shot his sister a look. “Don’t be smug, Elise. You’ll probably cause a major pileup during your test. It’ll take days to pry through the mangled wreckage.”

“No, I won’t,” she said. “I’ll have had plenty of practice because my dear older brother will let me use his car as often as I want.”

“Dream on.”

Elise turned to face me. “You know, that isn’t a bad idea.”

“What isn’t?” I asked.

“Get an upperclassman to help you practice. It could be romantic.”

“Elise, I think dating will be stressful enough without worrying about wrecking some guy’s car. I’d probably be so tense I’d drive over a cliff and kill us both.”

Elise sighed. “What a way to die.”

All that day Elise bugged me about having some cute guy help me practice my driving. While we waited in the lunch line, she surveyed the cafeteria for possible tutors. “Brandon Evans drives a truck,” she said. “They’re very versatile.”

“I hardly know Brandon Evans. Really, Elise, what do you expect me to do? Waltz up to a guy, bat my eyes, and say, ‘Hi. Can I have your car keys?’”

She kept scanning the area. “There’s less than two weeks left until the homecoming dance, and you don’t have a date.” She looked over at Chad’s table. “Hey, there’s Mr. Dark-blue Toyota. You know him.”

“Not well enough to ask him to risk his life.”

“He’s a teenage boy. They live for thrills. We just have to find some way to approach him casually.”

“Elise, the last time I talked to him—”

“Cassidy,” she said firmly. “You can’t wait around and hope he’ll fall into your lap. You’ve got to go snatch him. If you don’t, someone else will.” We got our lunches and went to our table. I looked over at Chad once more. “Fine. If you can think of some casual way to approach him, I’ll talk to him.”

I had meant I would talk to him in a general way—not in a can-I-drive-your-car way. Apparently I didn’t make that clear to Elise.

After school she met me at my locker. “I thought of a way.”

“A way to do what?” I put the last of my books into my backpack and shut my locker door.

She motioned for me to follow her. “Remember, you said that if I thought of a way, you’d do it.” She walked up the hall, away from the exit. “The only problem is . . . if it doesn’t work out, we may end up walking home. I’m not sure how long Josh will wait for us.” I walked beside her but glanced back at the exit. “It’s two miles home.”

“Exercise is good for you.” She stopped a little way from Mike’s locker. “First we’ll talk to Mike because Chad always comes here. You see, it’s very casual.” Then she walked over to Mike, and I reluctantly trailed after her. I suddenly felt the need to gulp repeatedly. I wondered if my hair was sticking up anywhere.

Elise sidled up next to Mike. “Hey there, having any luck as a card shark?”

He laughed at what was obviously a private joke between them. I wondered when they’d talked together and why Elise hadn’t told me about it.

He took his jacket out of the locker. “No, WSU still hasn’t made that into a major.” She leaned up against the adjoining locker. “If I played you and won, would you do me a favor?” He smiled at her. “That depends on the favor.”

I tried to catch Elise’s eye. I tried to tell her, using psychic vibes, not to mention anything about borrowing a car.

My psychic powers are woefully undeveloped.

By this time Chad had walked up. “You better find out how well she plays poker before you promise any favors. You’re not all that hard to beat, Card Sharky.”

Mike shut his locker door. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

Chad made a scoffing noise. “Like you could.”

“The favor isn’t for me,” Elise said, cutting into their ribbing. “It’s for Cassidy.” They all turned and looked at me. Ever so slightly, I shook my head at Elise.

“You see,” Elise went on, “Cassidy takes her driver’s test next week. She’s got it all down except for the paral ell parking. She hasn’t been able to practice it because her parents are both Carparkaphobic.”

“Carpa what?” Mike asked.

I shook my head a bit more vigorously, but probably only managed to look like I had a nervous tick.

“Carparkaphobic,” Elise said, as though it were a real diagnosis. “That’s the fear of being trapped between cars. They got that way after they were in a terrible car accident in bumper-to-bumper traffic. It was a horrible tragedy. They’ve never quite gotten over it, have they Cassidy?” I gulped. “Uh, no.”

“Anyway,” Elise said, shifting her backpack on her shoulder, “we’re looking for drivers to help out on the get-Cassidy-her- license project.” She gave Chad her sly grin. “Care to volunteer?”

Chad raised an eyebrow at me. “So you’d like to go park with me?”

I knew I was turning bright red again. “Paral ell park.”

He leaned closer. “The other kind is more fun.”

“But I don’t think it helps on your driver’s test.”

“I don’t know—a pretty girl like you—it might be a skil that comes in handy with your tester.” Visions of Mr. Jensen came into my mind. “Oh yuck. The guy who tested me was about sixty years old.” Chad cocked his head. “I thought you hadn’t taken the test yet.”

“Well . . . I took it. I just didn’t pass. He told me to work on my parking.” I quickly added, “My paral ell parking.” Chad laughed and I felt myself blush. Elise rolled her eyes.

“Right now we’ve got football practice,” Chad said, “but I’d be happy to park with you sometime, Cassidy.” He gave me a wink. “See you around.” Then both he and Mike walked away.

Elise waited until they were out of earshot, then let out a frustrated sigh. “Cassidy, why are you so uptight?”

“I’m not uptight. I’m nervous.” I looked the direction the guys had gone. “Do you think Chad thinks I’m uptight?”

“I think he thinks you’re an idiot.” She turned and headed down the hall, quick-paced. “Why did you keep emphasizing it was just paral ell parking you were interested in? Haven’t you ever heard of flirting?”

I walked alongside Elise, matching her stride. “Yeah, but what if I had said, ‘Sure, I’d love to go park with you,’ and then he took me seriously?”

“Oh. That would be tragic.”

“I don’t want him to think I’m easy.”

“Cassidy, you’ve liked this guy for two years. That’s . . . ,” She reached into her backpack, took out her calculator, and pushed some of the buttons. “Let’s see . . .730 days, 17,520 hours, 1,051,200 minutes. Trust me, you could use a little more ease in your life.”

“What? You think I should be loose?”

“Not loose—looser, a little bit loose, as in loosen up.”

“I want him to respect me” I said.

“Well, keep doing what you’re doing. He’ll respect you. He won’t ever ask you out, but he’ll respect you.” When we got to the parking lot, Josh was sitting in his car waiting for us. I was especially glad he hadn’t left us, since I wasn’t in the mood for a two-mile walk during which all Elise had to say was how stupid I was.

He started up the car as soon as he saw us. “Where have you been?”

“Out wasting time,” Elise said.

I opened the door to the backseat and climbed in. “We were talking to someone.”

“We were winning his undying respect,” Elise said.

“Elise thinks I need to be looser.”

Josh shook his head. “Try to be here on time tomorrow, all right?”

He drove for a few minutes in silence and then seemed to match the morning’s conversation with the present one. “You weren’t out asking guys to help you drive, were you?”

Elise sat back in her seat firmly. “As a matter of fact, we were.”

Josh winced. “Please tell me it wasn’t any of my friends.”

“We weren’t being geeky about it.” Elise shot me a look. “At least I wasn’t.” I glared at her. “You’re the one who came up with the story about my parents having Carparkaphobia, not me.” Josh threw his head back and groaned. “Please tell me it wasn’t anyone who knows you’re my sister.”

“Well, I didn’t start out the conversation by saying, ‘Hi, I’m Josh Benson’s sister.’ Although I may try that approach tomorrow.”

“All right,” he said. “You win. I’ll take you driving. Just promise me you’ll stop soliciting upperclassmen.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “And that goes for you too. If you really need to, I’ll practice paral ell parking with you, but we do it in your car. Mine can’t handle many bike racks.” I was too insulted by his whole attitude to be flattered by his offer. He might as well have told me he thought I was incompetent. “No thanks,” I said. “I think my parents are over their bout of Carparkaphobia.”

Elise shook her head and laughed, and once she’d laughed it did seem funny. That was the thing about Elise. You couldn’t take yourself too seriously when you were around her. She could make anything feel comical, harmless—even making a fool out of yourself in front of the guy you’ve liked for two years.

At that moment I was glad she was my friend. I thought she was happy and that things would go on the way they were. But by the end of the week, everything had changed.

The next morning, I noticed right away that Elise was in a bad mood. When I climbed into the car, Elise barely did more than grunt a greeting at me. Josh had been texting someone while he waited for me to get in, and once he put his phone down, Elise picked it up.

She looked at the screen and scowled. “I can’t believe you’re texting the cheerleader.” Josh pulled out onto the street. “Samantha texted me first. I’m being polite. That’s something you could practice once in awhile.” She tossed his phone back on the seat. “If you marry her, your chances of having genetically boof-brained kids go way up.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he said.

Elise turned and glared out the window.

My gaze went back and forth between them. I figured they were in some sort of fight, but then Josh glanced over at her and sighed. “It won’t be that bad.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re graduating in eight months.” She turned in her seat to face me. “Guess what my parents told us last night. Just guess.”

I felt a pinch of dread in my stomach. “You’re not moving again, are you?”

“No,” she said. “That would actually be better.” She leaned toward me to emphasize her point. “My mom is pregnant. With number seven. We’re barely making ends meet as it is, and they’re having another kid.” She sat back in her seat with a determined thud. “Well, I’m not babysitting it. They can find somebody else to be their slave labor.”

It stung that Elise had said moving would be better than having another sibling. I obviously relied on her friendship more than she relied on mine. I said the only thing I could think of to make her feel better. “I’ll come over to help you babysit, if you want.” She barely seemed to hear me. “You’re so lucky to be an only child.”

“It has its disadvantages.”

“Like what?”

I motioned to Josh. “For starters, I don’t have an older brother to drive me to school.” She let out a huff. “Or watch your every movement.”

“No.” I told her. “My parents do that for me.”

“I bet you get lots of presents at Christmas.”

“But I don’t have anyone to share them with.”

Elise shook her head. “Get real. Brothers and sisters don’t share presents. We do share rooms, though, and clothes and the small all otment of money our parents have left every month for all owances.”

Josh added, “It’s impossible to get a turn in the bathroom now that Elise is beautifying herself every morning.” I hadn’t expected to feel emotional about the subject, but I did. Josh and Elise had each other and didn’t even appreciate that fact. “I’d share everything,” I said, “if it meant having a sister. When my best friend moved away a few months ago . . .” I didn’t say more because I couldn’t explain how alone I’d felt when I lost Anjie—how I’d realized for the first time that friends always moved on eventually. Family was the only constant—the anchor in your life that everything else flowed around. And I would always be short on family.

Elise was still listing her woes. “You’ve probably never even ridden in a minivan, have you?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Right. You drive an Accord. The closest my family will ever get to an Accord is ‘discord,’ which is what we have every time we get into the minivan.”

I countered with, “I don’t get away with anything. If someone tracks in mud, my parents know who did it. As a child I was never able to steal cookies from the cookie jar.”

“As a child,” Elise said, “there were never any cookies left when I got to the cookie jar.”

“I don’t have anyone in my family who’s been a teenager in the last two decades to give me advice.”

“I have too many.” Elise looked pointedly at Josh.

I sighed. “After my parents are gone, I’ll be all alone in the world.”

“But you’ll get a big inheritance.”

Josh broke into our contest. “How come your parents stopped after one child?” Usually when people asked this question I said, “My parents got perfection with me. Why try for more?” It was Mom’s line. She didn’t like to talk about her infertility. I could tell that Josh actually wanted to know, though. “They wanted more children,” I said, “but they had some problems with that.

Then, when I was about five, Mom had a tubal pregnancy. When the doctor went in to take it out he found evidence of cancerous growth. She had to have a hysterectomy.”

Josh frowned. “That’s too bad.”

“Yeah,” Elise said, then added, “I’d be willing to sell them a few Bensons.”

“My parents are all right about it now,” I went on, ignoring Elise, “but they expect me to make up for it later by providing them with lots of grandchildren. It’s another one of those disadvantages I’ve been telling you about.” We swapped a few more hardship stories. I told them about all the times I’d had to play Monopoly by myself and the time I tried to blame a broken window on my invisible friend. Elise told me about constantly having her makeup stolen because her little sisters wanted to play beauty parlor and the time she had to walk home three miles from swimming lessons because her parents forgot to pick her up.

We continued the conversation once we got to school. As we climbed up the steps, Elise said, “I’ve been a model child for the last two weeks. I haven’t cut any classes. I’ve done all my homework. Not a drop of beer has passed over my lips. It doesn’t matter to my parents. They haven’t even noticed.”

Josh had, but I wasn’t sure I should point that out. I didn’t want to tell her he’d asked me about her. So I said, “Your parents are busy getting their store off the ground. That doesn’t mean they don’t love you.”

Elise didn’t reply to that.

We split up to go to our lockers. When I got to mine, one of the guys in the chess club was standing nearby. Bob was a tall, thin senior, who slouched when he walked and had curly unkempt hair. I hadn’t ever said much to him outside of chess club.

“Hi,” I said and started in on my combination. “Are you looking for someone?” He tapped his hand against his leg nervously. “Actually, I came to talk to you.”

“Oh.” I waited for him to say more, but he only stared at me. I wondered if the chess club was setting up a tournament or something. “What did you want to talk about?”

More nervous tapping. He looked like he was playing the drums on his jeans. “I was wondering if you were going to the homecoming dance.

You’ve probably been asked already, haven’t you?”

“No.”

He paused. “No, you’re not going? Or no, you haven’t been asked?”

“Both.”

He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Both because you haven’t been asked yet, or both because you have something else planned for that night and can’t go?”

“I haven’t been asked yet.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t say anything more, and I wondered if we were finished with our conversation. For all I knew he was finding out for someone else or taking a general survey. I finally said, “Any particular reason you wanted to know?”

“Oh—I didn’t ask you, did I? Would you like to go with me?”

I smiled in what I hoped was a normal manner. “All right.”

“All right. I’ll see you then.”

“When?”

He got a panicked look on his face. “Next Friday, the night of homecoming.”

“No, I mean what time will you pick me up?”

“Oh. Six o’clock.”

“All right.”

He smiled sheepishly and walked down the hallway.

I had been asked out on my first date. I was going out with Bob. Bob and I. We were going to the dance. It was sort of an anticlimactic feeling.

Not that Bob wasn’t a nice guy. He was. He just wasn’t Chad.

At lunchtime, while Elise and I walked to the cafeteria, I told her about it. “Bob from chess club asked me to the homecoming dance.”

“What did you say?”

“I said yes. What else could I say?”

“You could have said no.”

“He’s a nice guy.”

She let out a snort. “He’s a geek. He wears those black glasses like people in the fifties wore. Hasn’t anyone ever told him about contacts?” I looked through my lunch sack to see what my mom had packed for me. No chocolate. I could have used some today. “At least he’s smart. He’ll probably be a great conversationalist.”

“Well, you better hope he can dance. It isn’t called the homecoming discussion group.” She shook her head. “It almost makes me glad no one has asked me. Almost.” She looked around at the crowd of students with evident dissatisfaction. “You know, the guys here all suffer from an incredible lack of good taste. I have yet to have anyone even ask for my phone number.” She let out a sigh. “I knew I shouldn’t have joined the chess club. What if only the Bobs of the world ask me out?”

I tilted my chin down. “Go ahead and say it: ‘What if I end up like you, Cassidy?’”

“Naw,” Elise said, teasing. “It could never get that bad.”

I smacked her arm. “Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“You know what I mean,” she said.

“Yeah, I do. That’s why I just smacked you.”

“I only meant,” she said, ignoring my comment. “That I like guys with a little more danger to them. Bob is only dangerous when it come to chess.

If he treats a girl like a queen, that mean he’s going to knock her off in the course of the evening. So you’d better be careful.” Then she laughed.

I rolled my eyes at her, but ended up laughing too. Laughter was as good as chocolate at making things seem all right.

* * *

“Ask him lots of questions about himself. Men love to talk about themselves.”

“Make sure he opens the door for you. You need to let him know you expect him to be a gentleman.”

“Don’t choose an expensive item from the menu—and whatever you choose, eat it all and let him know you enjoyed it.”

“And remember, be yourself. Act natural.”

By the time Friday came around, I was glad I wasn’t going out with someone I wanted to impress. I’d have been a nervous wreck trying to remember all of their instructions.

Mom and I had gone to Nordstrom’s the day before to find the right dress for the dance. “I won’t spring for something new every time you have a date,” Mom had told me, “but the first time is special. You’ll want it to be memorable.” As I put hot roll ers in my hair that night, both my parents hung around my room and sighed a lot.

“She’s growing up,” Dad said.

“Her first date,” Mom agreed. She put her hand over her heart. “Our little peach is going out with a boy.” Before I realized what he was doing, Dad got out the camera and took a picture of me. “Cassidy prepares for her first date.” I made shooing motions with my hands. “I have hot roll ers in my hair.”

“You look beautiful, even in roll ers.” Mom shook her head sadly. “It’s only three short years until you leave for college.” I put on my eye shadow, watching Dad’s camera to make sure he didn’t try to get any more candid photos. “You’re not going to do anything to embarrass me when Bob gets here, are you? You’re not going to snap pictures of us together or sit him down in the living room and ask him how he plans on supporting a family?”

Dad fiddled with his camera settings. “Not unless you’re running so late we run out of conversation topics.” I hurried with the rest of my makeup.

Bob rang the bell at six fifteen. Not only was I ready, I was wondering if I had been stood up on my first date.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said when I let him in. “I had to wait for my clothes to get out of the dryer.” He smoothed a wrinkle from his pants. “They’re still a little wet; but I figured if I didn’t come soon, you might leave without me.” He laughed at this and I politely joined in.

I noticed a large gash underneath his chin. He saw me looking at it. “I cut myself shaving,” he explained.

“Ouch.” I went to the coat closet.

Bob took a few steps into the room. “You can say that again. Be glad you don’t have to shave your face, because it’s a real pain. Of course, you have to shave your underarms, and I guess that’s just as bad.”

“Uh, yeah.” I put on my coat.

“Although, really you don’t have to shave your underarms. It isn’t something noticeable like a face. For example, in that dress I can’t tell whether you shaved your underarms or not.” I must have looked mortified because he quickly added, “Not that I’m asking if you did because that’s none of my business, and I’d never ask you something so personal.”

My parents came into the room at this point. Dad had the camera in hand and flashed a picture of us before I could stop him. Then Dad shook Bob’s hand. “Nice to meet you. How are things going at school?”

“Pretty good.”

“Well, I hope you kids have a good time at the dance.”

“I’m sure we will,” I said.

Mom gazed at me and sighed. “Doesn’t Cassidy look nice tonight?”

“She certainly does,” Bob answered. “And I’m sure she has wonderful shaving hygiene too.” My parents stared at him with frozen smiles.

“Come on, Bob,” I said. “We’d better go or we’ll be late to the dance.”

As we walked towards his car, Bob said, “I only said that about the hygiene because I thought your parents might have overheard me talk about your underarms before. But judging from their expressions, I’d say they had no idea what I was talking about.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Do you think they think I’m weird now?”

“Oh, no.”

He followed me around to my side of the car, something I found disconcerting until I realized he was opening the car door for me. I had been out on this date for only five minutes and already I’d forgotten one of my parents’ dating idioms.

When Bob slid into the driver’s seat, I decided to ask him about himself. Men love to talk about themselves. I remembered hearing once during chess club that he’d done so well on the PSAT he already had colleges trying to recruit him.

“So, have you decided where to go to college?”

He pulled out of my driveway, checking for traffic. “Not yet. WSU will give me a full ride, but I still have to check out their entomology department.”

“What’s entomology?”

“The study of bugs.”

I laughed, then realized he was serious. “They have a whole department to study bugs?”