Burdened (A Burdened Novel) (5 page)

“Okay, I’m thinking about getting a new outfit for school too.”

“
Oo, that’s a good idea. An outfit for the day and an outfit for the night.” She snaps her fingers left to right.

I laugh at her notion. “Yes, those were my thoughts exactly.”

“Hello,” we’re greeted, when we step in. “Let us know if you need anything!” the employees say cheerfully.

“Will do,” we say at the same time.

“So I was thinking about a skirt with a lace shirt, maybe some heels, and a lot of accessories.”

“I think we are going to a house party, not a club, and that would be overdoing it for the person
you
are trying to impress.” I have not said anything else about Scott since she asked me not to earlier.

“Well, miss conservative. What do you think I should wear?”

“I really think you should be yourself, something
you
would wear, just not so much leg and cleavage. Maybe a little high-rise shirt, over your navel, some tight, straight-leg jeans, and feel free to wear your heels but remember it’s only a high school party.”

She ponders my suggestion. “And what are
you
going to wear?” she asks with an eyebrow raised.

“I was thinking some waist-highs, tight of course, a sheer collared blouse tucked in, with a tank underneath, along with my high-top studded boots, and I’ll find some accessories to assist.”

“Mm, cute!” She looks intrigued. “Okay,” she says, after a pause, “let’s find it, then we can find what we’ll wear to school.”

Shopping in the mall for two hours—trying on clothes and putting outfits together—I find exactly what I want for the party and for school. I chose some denim shorts that stop mid-thigh and a shirt that says ‘Tell Him I Said HI.’

Glen found some jeans that look like she painted them on and a lace, knit shirt that has a non-see-through shirt sewn into it. She found some cute pink wedges that matched perfectly, and some TOMS shoes to go with this ‘school girl’ dress she’s going to wear to school.

She wants to spend the night at my house tonight, which is okay with me. I call my mom and she is also okay with it. Before heading to my house, we stop by Glen’s so she can grab her toiletries and undies.

We arrive at my house as my mom is finishing up dinner. “Hey, Mom!” I say. “Hey Mrs. Warren,” Glen follows.

“Hello, girls.
How was the mall? Did you girls find some cute clothes for the party?”

“Yes! What are you cooking?” Glen always goes for the food.

“Just some smothered steaks, mashed potatoes, and fresh green beans. You both hungry?” my mom asks, without looking up from placing the food on our plates.

“Yes,” Glen answers for the both of us.

We sit around the table eating mom’s food. It’s delicious. “So who’s throwing this party tomorrow?” my mom asks, for the sake of conversation.

I quickly answer. “Andrew.”

“Andrew’s mother is going to let him throw a party?” Andrew’s mother and mine were both in the Parent Teachers Association when we were in grade school and middle school. They would set up gathering and events for us. Andrew’s mother was the only one who refused to have the parties at their house and would limit the activities he could participate in.

“Yeah, I guess she is.”

“Wow, I never took her for the type. She is so…strict with him.” she says before drinking from her glass of water.

“That’s the same thing I said.” My mom isn’t the type to allow me to throw parties either. But I don’t like my house full of people anyway.

She also isn’t the type to tell me ‘no’ about everything. I am pretty responsible, so she lets me go out, go to parties, and go shopping, without overbearing me with questions.

“Okay, you girls be safe when you go and do not get into any trouble. I know I’ll probably only see you all tomorrow morning and may be asleep when you all get in.” She stands and starts cleaning off the table.
“You feeling okay today, Tracey?”

“Yes, Mom.”
I take a glance at Glen still stuffing her face. Looking back at my mom, I mouth ‘not now’ as I shake my head. I don’t know how to explain to Glen what happened, so it’s better to avoid the conversation all together.

“Well,
good.” She nods. “You all get to bed so you can be up early.” She walks over and kisses my head. “Glen, when you are finished, just place your plate in the dishwasher. Tracey, put the remainder of the food in the containers when you’re all finished. Place the dirty dishes in the dishwasher as well. Love you,” she calls out as she walks to the stairs.

“You finished eating yet? You have been throwing food down your throat since my mom placed it on the table,” I joke.

“Your mom
can
cook. And considering my mom
never
cooks, I need to take full-advantage of the opportunity.” She smiles as she finishes her last fork-full. I take the plate from her, so she doesn’t have to move. “Thank you.”

“Yep.”
I finish cleaning the kitchen and we head to the family room, where we’ll be sleeping for the night. I don’t like other people sleeping in my room. I know that seems selfish or unfriendly, but that’s
my
space.

“So…do you think I can try Scott?”

I look at her curiously. “
Try
him? What, is he a new candy?”

“No,
Cey, you know what I mean. I don’t know…it’s—” She takes a short pause. “Something about that guy. I mean, not just that he looks good. We
all
know Scott looks good. But his matured attitude, and the way he acts and responds to certain things…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“Why haven’t you told me you had a thing for Scott before? With the way you’re talking, this isn’t something new.”

“I guess it isn’t. I mean, I have always been attracted to him, but I didn’t realize I wanted to possibly have a relationship with him until the other day.”

“What happened the other day?” I’m curious.

She smiles. “What happened?” she says, thinking to herself before answering. “I do not know where to start. Maybe a couple of weeks ago I passed him in the hall while class was going on. He was in his own world. You know, Mr. AllAboutBusiness. That was when I noticed him. I noticed his perfectly built body. He looked like he just came from the gym, dressed in a black tank and some black and white basketball shorts.”

She takes a breath before continuing. “But he was glistening in all his sweaty glory and his arms were protruding out the tank’s sleeves, which looked like the size of my thighs,” she exaggerates.
“He ran his hand through his loose, wavy hair as he walked past me and said ‘Wassup Glen?’ and gave me the sexiest crooked smile I had ever seen. Stopped me right in my steps.” Her eyes float around the room as she tells her story. “Then I was in the stairwell, running down the stairs, and apparently I forgot how to walk. I think I missed two full steps, running down them, and right before I hit the floor, maybe about to break my face, he was there to catch me. Mr. Prince Charming, there to save my life.”

She smiles to herself and says, “He was flawless, grabbing my arm and turning me around to catch me in a cradle. He looked down at me while a tremor filled my body from him being so close. He asked me if I was okay, and all I could do was nod.” She thinks. “He gave me a full smile, and a new feeling came over me. He stood me up and said ‘good’. He told me to be careful, before he rushed out the door on the second floor.”

I don’t say anything, waiting on her to continue. She takes a moment, looking at her hands. “I don’t know. I just felt weird after that. It just felt like I needed to be with him.” A teeth-revealing grin steals her face as she replays her memories.

It’s cute. “Well, why haven’t you tried to talk to him?”

She is just staring into space, not paying attention to anything I’m saying. I smile to myself, letting her have her moment. It’s funny—I know just how she feels. But the craziest part about it all is that he is my guy’s cousin.
My guy
? What am I saying?

“Glen!” I half shout, not loud enough to wake my mom.

“What?” she answers, irritated.

“I have been talking to you, and while you were daydreaming in Scott Land—Wait, Scotland—” I laugh out loud at myself.

She rolls her eyes. “Really?”

Still laughing, I manage, “Come on, Glen,
let’s go to bed.”

My mom pulled our blow-up mattresses out and brought down some sheets and comforters.

“You’re right.” She pulls her sheets back. “I’ve been having dreams about him too. It’s like I can’t get him out of my mind.” She pauses. I look at her, paying full attention to her every word. “Do you think he’s thinking about me, like this? I mean, it seems so girlish to be floosy over some guy. You know?”

What is she saying? That’s exactly how I feel. “Yeah, I do agree,” I say, without thinking. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“What do you mean?” she asks suspiciously.

Uh…
“Nothing. I just mean I know what you mean about having something stuck in your head.” Even though she has told me her crush story, I’m still not ready to share mine.

There are still parts of my own story I don’t understand. Swirling eyes, burning
touches, weird dreams.
Weird conversation
.

“Oh, okay. Well, I’m tired. We’ll finish talking tomorrow. Thanks for letting me stay over.”

“No problem, you are always welcome.” Glen is one of those people who can lie down and demand herself asleep. I wish I had it that good. She is out within seconds. I climb into the sheets of my own blow-up mattress and snuggle up, staring at the dark ceiling.

Someone knocks on the front door the moment my mind blanks. “Now, who could be knocking on the door right now? And why are they knocking so quietly?” I say out loud to myself. I stand, feeling a demanding presence that makes my body cover in goose-bumps.

I walk over to the door. Opening it slowly, I peek out the crack that I leave available to look outside.

“Hello, Tracey. It’s Nathan.” My heart stutters as I open the door wider to the familiar voice. He looks at me with bright, expectant eyes. “I’m sorry for stopping by so late.” He looks around outside. “I just wanted to check to make sure everything was okay with your car.” He looks back to me. “I came by earlier and saw it was here, but you were gone.” He avoids making eye contact and his voice feeds my desperation.

“Umm, uh, yeah,
erum.” I clear my throat to remove the mumbling. “Excuse me. Yes, everything is fine. My friend just wanted to drive. But I, um, drove my car to school this morning and everything was fine. I didn’t see or hear anything out of place.” I smile, hoping he will return it.

He does, flashing his perfect, white teeth behind those welcoming lips. I watch them as he speaks.
“The other car in your driveway—that’s your friend’s?” He smiles wider, a little devious. “You having a sleepover?”

His smile turns cocky. Mine fades.
Asshole. “No,” I say wryly, “she’s just staying over. Going to school together in the morning and then to this party, and she’ll probably come back over here after.” I stop myself from blabbering my entire life story. Why am I telling him everything? He didn’t ask for all that.

“Oh, okay.” He tilts his head to the side a little, leaning against the wall that’s beside the door. His expression darkens, bringing to my mind what Scott had warned me about not getting involved with him.

“Can I ask you a question?” I ask, staring at him.

He gives me a wearily look.
“Depends. But I didn’t come over to stay long. I just wanted to check on your car, make sure everything was okay for you.”

“Right,” I drag out slowly. Taking a glance at the moon, I yawn unexpectedly. An embarrassing, be alone, wide-mouth and watery-eyes yawn. “I am so sorry.” My facial expression matches how surprised I am at doing that in front of him and not covering my mouth.

A tear escapes from my left eye and runs down my cheek. He reaches up, wiping it away with the back of his hand. He follows, slowly wiping off the remainder under my eye with his thumb. His touch is soft. I unconsciously lean in against it.

“Looks like someone is sleepy.”
He removes his hand quickly. “Go back to bed, Tracey. Sorry I bothered you this late.”

He turns away. I subconsciously reach out, grabbing his hand. Realizing what I had done, I want to let go. But I am flooded with the burning, then comfort, then happiness—contentment.

“Wait,” is all I can muster, becoming overwhelmed by the feeling his touch gives me.

He turns back to me, head low, looking at our hands. It is hard to see his face with the moonlight behind him, but I can make out the light in his eyes when he looks at me. They look as if they want me as much as I want him.

But his mouth says, “Tracey,” in a whisper, “don’t.” Saying a lot, without saying anything at all. Why not?

“I’m, I’m s-so s-sorry,” I stutter as he removes his hand from my grasp.
Chest cracking.