Boy Shopping (11 page)

SHOULD KIKI PUT HIM BACK ON THE RACK?
Turn to page 115 to see what happens if she tells him goodbye.

Seizing the Night

“
T
hanks for giving me a chance to explain,” Lyman said, sliding off the trunk of his car. Even in the orange light of the streetlamps Lyman looked great. Kiki had to remind herself that no matter how cute he was, his mother was still out there somewhere. For all she knew, Mrs. Lyman might be speeding toward her house that very minute.

“Okay, talk,” Kiki said, folding her arms over her chest. Her bare feet were firmly planted on the driveway with plenty of space between her and Lyman. She wasn't going to let him charm her into forgetting about how awful the evening turned out. She didn't really believe any explanation would excuse Mrs. Lyman's meanness and his complete unwillingness to do anything about it, but Kiki thought it was only fair to give him a chance.

“Ah, okay. Um.” Lyman was staring at his feet as if his black sneakers were doing something interesting.

“Lyman, it's late, and I know you know a whole lot of words. So talk already.”

“All right. Well . . . His voice petered out like a snuffed candle.

Kiki was about to give up and go back inside when he said, very quietly, “My brothers died in a car accident last year.”

“What?” Kiki asked, sure she had misheard.

“My older brothers, Scott and Nicky, were in a car accident last year. In May. The fifth of May, to be exact, at eight twenty-two
AM
.”

“Oh, my God! I'm so sorry!” Thinking back, Kiki could remember hearing about it on the news. It was a terrible accident involving a tractor-trailer and two brothers on the way to school.

“Yeah . . .” His voice trailed off again, and they were both silent for a minute. Then Kiki walked up to him and gave him a hug.

“Mom was pretty weird before it happened,” he said, resting his head on her shoulder. “But since then she's been a lot worse.”

“I understand,” she said, though she knew that wasn't really true.

“I'm not saying that I think what Mom does is okay,” he continued. “And I don't think she's going to change any time soon. But I wanted you to know that it doesn't have anything to do with you really, and now that she's met you, at least, she'll probably settle down a little.”

“Do you really think so?”

He shrugged and said in a small voice, “Maybe.”

“Okay, I guess,” Kiki said slowly. Of course, it wasn't really okay with her that she and Lyman could be stalked by his mother, but what else could she say? “I guess we'll work it out somehow.”

Knowing that her parents might well be watching from their darkened bedroom upstairs, Kiki gave him a quick kiss goodbye and told him she would call him tomorrow.

“I'm looking forward to it,” he said, climbing back into his car. Kiki waved and let herself back into the house. Her parents were silent when she passed their door this time, which was just as well, since she was not in the mood for talking. Knowing the truth—and how much Lyman liked her—made it much easier for her to fall asleep, even with all the complications.

 

By the next morning, however, Kiki did want to talk about the situation, but not with her parents or the Pussycat Posse. Her parents would make too much of the potential danger of Mrs. Lyman's obsessive behavior, and the Pussycats would not make enough of it. None of them had ever been stalked, so they could never know what it meant to willingly invite a stalker to become a part of one's life. One of her friends knew exactly what that meant. Unfortunately, he was barely speaking to her.

“Are we still best friends or what?” Kiki asked when Mark answered her call. She was still in her pajamas and had yet to actually get out of bed, and she figured he was in the same state. Even if there was still tension between them, she hoped he would be too sleepy to fight.

“Still best friends,” Mark said, yawning.

“Cool. I need to talk to you.”

“Now?” Mark still sounded tired, but not shocked. This wasn't the first Sunday morning that began with his cell phone ringing.

“Soon.”

“I'll come and get you as soon as I'm dressed,” he promised.

“Great.”

By the time his Karmann Ghia rattled into her driveway, Kiki was dressed and waiting.

“We need to talk,” he said as she let herself into his car.

“Um, yeah,” she admitted. “Here's what I've been thinking—”

“I love you.”

“What?”
It was a good thing he was driving, not Kiki, because she would have driven straight into a tree. At any point in the last three years, those words would have made Kiki's heart explode with happiness. But now that she had found someone else, Mark had finally decided that she was the one. She didn't know what to think about his revelation. She knew how she felt, though: confused.

“I love you,” he repeated, calmly avoiding all the trees lining Kiki's street. “I've always loved you, I guess. I had never really thought about it until the other morning, when you said what you did about being stalked. It freaked me out completely to think that you could be in danger.”

“Why didn't you say something then?” Her confusion was shading to anger. But then she realized that if he had spoken up, she never would have met Lyman, never would have learned the difference between love and passion. But now she did know the difference. It was too late.

“I almost did, that night, after the fight,” Mark admitted. “But everything had just gotten back to normal, and I didn't want to risk our friendship, the band, everything we have, if you didn't feel the same way.”

“Mark! Did you really think I would say, ‘Nope, not interested, don't ever speak to me again?' You didn't think we'd find a way to work through it?” As soon as she said it, though, Kiki realized that she had feared exactly the same reaction from him. Otherwise, she would have said something herself. She wasn't being fair to him, but she didn't think it was fair of him to spring this on her now.

“I didn't know what you were going to say. I tried to get Jasmine to tell me what you were thinking, but she weaseled out of every question. But I guess it's pretty obvious how you feel, huh?” Mark's voice almost creaked with bitterness.

“Hey,” Kiki said gently, squeezing his elbow. “You're my best friend. But I'm not in love with you, not really. I thought I was, until recently, but I was wrong.”

“Because of this Lyman guy?”

“Lyman and I have our own problems. That's why I called you in the first place. But as much as I love you, Mark, I'm not in love. That's all there is to it.”

“So what's the story with him?”

Kiki hesitated—if she were in Mark's position, the last thing she would want to hear was her complaining about her romantic problems. But if they were going to be friends for real, just friends, for ever and ever, she had to trust him with just this sort of problem. So she told him about Lyman and his mother as Mark drove around and around Kiki's neighborhood.

“Think
she'll
send you a cow heart on Valentine's Day?” he asked when she got to the end of the story.

Kiki shuddered. “I hope not.” She slapped the dashboard in frustration. “I hate this. I feel this incredible connection with him, but I don't think I can deal with that woman showing up when we're having a bite to eat or catching a show. I feel sorry for her, of course, but she was pretty nasty.”

“I hate to say it, but honestly, Kiki, if you really care for this guy you'll find a way to deal with it. Unless you think you're actually in real danger, like she might come after you with a knife, then I think maybe you have to try to handle it.”

“I know you're right, but how am I supposed to deal with it?”

He shrugged, his eyes glued to the road, the way they had been throughout the conversation. “You're smart. You'll think of something.”

When Mark dropped her off at home a little while later, she kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“You know, if you change your mind,” he said, “I'll still be here. And I'll always be your friend.”

“Thanks, Mark. I know.”

Kiki went back inside and gave Lyman a call.

 

“So where are you going tonight?” Sasha asked a month later, watching Kiki tie on a pair of hiking boots.

“The ballet?” Jasmine suggested. By now the Pussycat Posse knew Lyman's eclectic tastes.

“It's a surprise.”

“What do you do to get all these surprises?” Jasmine stared jealously at the stack of CDs and DVDs collecting on Kiki's desk.

“Wouldn't you like to know.”

“Actually, I would.”

“Well, the secret is—” Kiki paused for effect.

“WHAT?” Jasmine, Camille and Sasha all leaned in to hear.

“The secret is that Lyman and I do pretty much what everyone else does. But we do it creatively.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Jasmine groaned.

“It means that there are benefits to dating someone with research skills.”

“Huh?” Camille asked.

“Never mind.” Kiki grinned smugly.

“So is Mama joining you?” Camille asked.

“Nope!” Kiki declared happily. Over the last month, Lyman's mother had gotten more used to the idea of Lyman dating. She still called him all the time, but she never showed up on their dates. Kiki figured Lyman had laid down the law about that. As long as Lyman called as soon as he arrived at her house, as soon as they got to their destination, and to let his mom know he was heading for home, she didn't stalk them. Much.

It was a start anyway.

 

“I've got a surprise for you,” Lyman said after kissing her hello.

“How surprising,” Kiki purred.

“It's on the back seat.”

Instead of the thin box containing yet another movie that Lyman thought she had to see, there was a small, round bundle wrapped in silver paper about the size of her fist.

“What is it?” she asked, snagging the ribbon on her index finger.

“Open it up.”

“But anticipation is such a turn-on.” She shook it to see if it rattled. It didn't. It wasn't quite the right shape for a jewelry box, and it was too soft. She couldn't imagine what it was.

“If that's how you feel, it can wait.” He reached to take the present back.

“Are you kidding?”

She ripped it open, and two long, soft fingerless gloves fell into her lap. They were black and silver striped, and soft as snow on her arms, which they covered almost to her shoulders.

“They're gorgeous!”

“Thank you.” He added, in a fake-pompous voice, “Didn't I tell you that there were advantages to dating a knitter?”

“I'm sure you did.” She brushed the side of his face with her gloved palm. “These are really nice. They're so soft.” She stroked the back of his neck. “So silky.”

“I hate to say this, but if you don't want me to pull over right now, you need to stop.”

“Maybe I
want
you to pull over right now.” But after tracing the back of his ear with the back of her hand, she folded her hands in her lap. She was too curious about their secret destination to distract him completely.

“So where are we going?” she asked, once Lyman was breathing normally again.

“Radnor Lake. If Mom thinks she can find us in the woods, she's welcome to try, but I think it'll be pretty private.”

“Sounds perfect,” she said, settling into her seat.

“Everything sounds perfect when you're around. We make beautiful music together, Kiki Kelvin.”

“It's true.” She grinned. “We're a perfect fit.”

Very Necessary

“
L
ook, Lyman,” she said as gently as she could, though she was more than a little annoyed. At least on a cell phone he couldn't see the face she was making. “You're a cool guy, and I liked hanging with you, but your mom is crazy.”

“I know that. But if I could tell you why—”

“It doesn't really matter why your mom is such a nut, unless you think she's going to change. Is she?”

“Probably not any time soon.”

“And are you going to tell her to back off?” Kiki asked. She waited for Lyman to respond. When he didn't she said, “Okay. I'm sorry for you, but I just can't deal with that kind of crap. I've got enough psychos in my life. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Kiki sighed, glad she didn't have to do the whole can-we-still-be-friends thing. Clearly, she was doomed to be alone.

“Learn to like being single,” she told her reflection as she washed up. Without makeup, she noticed how tired she looked— her dark circles were beginning to look like bruises. “Being alone is good. Really. A little alone time is exactly what you need.”

She turned off her cell phone and went straight to bed.

 

The next day she left her phone off. She would tell the Pussycats the whole horror story on Monday. Meanwhile she was going to learn to enjoy being alone. She locked herself in her bedroom and did piles of homework, had pizza with her parents, and finally changed out of her pajamas and into jeans.

“Where are you headed?” her father asked when he saw her snagging the keys to her bike lock from the kitchen junk drawer.

“The Wentworth playground.”

“Should I even ask why?”

“I'm going to write,” she said, showing him the spiral-bound notebooks in her backpack.

“You have school in the morning. You need to be home by ten-thiry.”

“Fine, Dad. Whatever.”

She pedaled through the darkness, ignoring the harsh bite of autumn wind whipping through her dreadlocks.

Once she got to the lower school's playground, she ignored the swings and monkey bars, heading straight for the tree house. When she was small, she never got to play up there. The popular kids, which included Camille and Sasha even then, were always hogging it. She and Mark would be in a corner somewhere, making up some complicated game of “let's pretend,” where they were magical scientist rock stars, or something.

As if thinking about him was enough to make him appear, Kiki heard his car wheezing before it rolled into sight, pulling into the parking lot before it collapsed into silence.

She clicked off her flashlight and watched Mark get out of the car, grabbing his elderly gray backpack before gently shutting the door.

“Hey,” she called, spooking him badly as he climbed the tree house ladder.

“What are you doing here?” he asked when he'd climbed in and joined Kiki, who was leaning against a tree branch.

“Same thing you're doing, probably. Writing.”

“Yeah.” He took a notebook out of his bag, but he didn't write a word. Neither did Kiki. They just stared at each other in the dark.

“So, about the other night—”

“It's okay, Mark. You can go out with Jasmine if you want.” Knowing that Jasmine wasn't interested made it easier for Kiki to say, but it was more or less true.

“That's not what I was going to say.”

“I know.”

“Then what was I going to say?” He couldn't have sounded more sarcastic, but Kiki was used to that from him. He always got sarcastic or mean when he felt cornered. He had said some of his funniest lines ever when other kids were teasing him, even back in kindergarten. It spooked Kiki sometimes to realize how long she had known him.

“You were going to say that you were sorry if you were rude last night about Lyman,” Kiki told him. “But you aren't really sorry—you were just freaked out, especially since I saw you with Jasmine when I was out with him, and seeing the two of you obviously freaked me out. But since Lyman and I aren't going to keep seeing each other, that part doesn't really matter, and I wanted to let you know that you are free to date Jasmine if you want. Not that I could stop you anyway.”

“Okay, maybe you did know what I was going to say.”

“Get a clue, Mark—I always know what you're going to say. Well, almost always.”

He shrugged. “We've known each other practically forever.”

“Yeah. Maybe we're psychically linked.” Kiki knew she sounded more than a little bitter.

“I don't know. I have a hard time reading you sometimes.”

“I'm not a book, Mark!” Kiki yelled, as all of her mixed-up feelings about Mark flooded through her. “You don't have to read me. If you want to know what I'm thinking, ask! I'm right here!”

Kiki could see his cheeks turning red, even in the moonlight.

“Fine! What are you thinking, Kiki? Why are you screaming at me?”

“You really want to know?” She didn't wait for an answer. She just kissed him. It was nothing like kissing Lyman for the first time. This wasn't a soft, slow exploration. She bruised her lips against his, nipped his tongue hard enough to make him cry out. For a second he just sat there, then she felt an arm tightening around her waist while his other hand plunged into her hair, holding her closer to him.

“I guess I should ask what's on your mind a little more often, huh?” he asked a few minutes later as they angled for a more comfortable position.

“It's better than asking out Jasmine to see if you can get her to tell you how I feel.”

“She figured it out, huh? I thought I was being subtle.”

“No, she thinks you're gay. I figured it out, 'cause I know you that well.” She didn't mention that she had figured it out about ten seconds before she said it, though it seemed obvious now. Even if Mark were interested in Jasmine, she wouldn't waste a lot of energy being nice to him. And Mark was more than a little shy about asking girls out—otherwise he and Kiki would have gotten together a long time before.

“Oh yeah? What am I thinking?”

She kissed him again and started to unbutton his shirt. His eyes widened when he realized her intention. He hesitated for only a moment, then his hands caressed and explored her.
We're really doing this!
screamed in Kiki's brain, until she couldn't think at all.

Being with Mark was like discovering a whole new country hidden in her bedroom closet: perfectly familiar, perfectly safe, yet completely new and exciting. Kiki really did feel close to Mark in a whole new way, really felt she understood him on a whole new level. She thought she might cry when it was over, but instead she found herself laughing, her head pillowed on his chest. To her surprise, he joined in, both of them giggling like a pair of kindergartners.

“What are you laughing at?” Kiki asked when she had caught her breath.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Really?”

He planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Nothing, really. I just thought it was funny that you really did know exactly what I was thinking.”