Evolution, Me & Other Freaks of Nature (20 page)

We settled onto his floor, leaning against the bed, lights out to heighten the movie effect.

And I can't tell you one thing I saw on the screen, because the whole time my head was buzzing, my heart was racing. I kept realizing I was holding my breath.

Okay, that's a lie—I do remember a few scenes. Like the elephants attacking, and Éowyn's great line when she stabs the Witch King in the face (“I AM NO MAN!”). And this really uncomfortable part at the end, where Aragorn kisses Arwen and fully uses his tongue.

We still had half an hour left. “Want to go play with the puppies?”

I nodded. My heart hurt.

We went out in the garage and flicked on the light. The clump of puppies stirred, but only a few of them actually woke up.

“Want to hold one?” Casey asked.

I nodded. I was too choked up to speak.

We gently lifted Lily and Christmas from the pen. Christmas was so much bigger than the first time I held her. But she still folded into my chest perfectly, and breathed her soft puppy breath, and now there was nothing I could do about it—a tear rolled down my cheek.

“I'm going to miss you, girl,” Casey told Lily, and he kissed the top of her soft black head.

And that's what did it.

I stared at him in utter wonder at how tender that kiss had been. Casey's eyes met mine. We both stood there, just staring at each other.

And then I don't know who moved first, but somehow
we came together, puppies cradled between us, and Casey Connor kissed me and I kissed him back.

Lily licked my chin. Casey kissed me again.

We put the puppies back to bed.

And turned out the lights and sat on the step and kissed until ten o'clock.

Forty-six

So this is how it feels.

I think I finally understand how drug addicts must feel.

I never understood how you couldn't give something up if you really tried. But if someone told me now I could never kiss Casey Connor again or else I'd end up on the streets pushing a grocery cart filled with all my belongings, I wouldn't care. Just give me one kiss per hour—okay, per minute—and I'll put up with anything.

When we finally stopped kissing, my heart was speeding like a cheetah. I started to shake.

“You okay?” Casey stroked my arm, like maybe I was cold.

I nodded. Closed my eyes. Rested my head against his shoulder.

Then he opened the door to the garage and we had to pretend that nothing had happened.

I went to find Stephanie, since I was already going to be late.

“Did you kiss the puppies goodbye?” Kayla asked me.

“Uh-huh.” I purposely didn't look at Casey.

∗ ∗ ∗

Stephanie brought me home, just fifteen minutes late, and I smiled at my parents and told them Venus was beautiful and I was tired and would see them in the morning.

They said they want to have a talk with me tomorrow. That's never good, but unless they somehow found out about Agent Steph already—which I doubt, or they would have said something—I don't see what new thing they have to punish me for. Think positive—maybe they just want to talk about me doing more work for them at the agency.

For right now, all I want to do is sit on the floor, my back against my bed, reliving what it was like to sit this way next to Casey tonight. And I know this is embarrassing to admit—I should probably rip out this page and burn it—but I've actually been holding my pillow against my mouth, pretending we're still kissing. Casey's lips were just that soft.

I don't want to sleep. I want to stay awake until it's morning and replay tonight over and over and over.

So this is what it feels like.

I had no idea.

Forty-seven

I don't think girls are supposed to call boys. I know we live in modern times and all, but it just seems weird to call a boy the next day after you've kissed. What are you supposed to say? “Hi, I really liked that, when can we do it again?” Or are you supposed to act all cool like nothing happened and wait for it to just come up in conversation? “Hey, I heard there was an earthquake in Turkey. What? That kiss? Oh yeah …”

I know for sure Casey won't be calling here. He understands my parents wouldn't like that. So does that mean I have to wait until Monday to see what's going to happen? To see if he actually likes me, or if that was just some fluke brought on by our sorrow over the puppies leaving?

I wonder which one of them will be the first to go. I wish so much I could be there today. But that would probably be torture, watching each of our babies being driven off in the hands of strangers.

Of course, I could console myself by sneaking into some dark corner with Casey and wrapping my arms
around his neck and kissing him until I forgot my own name.

I couldn't sleep at all last night, no surprise. I finally got up while it was still dark outside, went downstairs, and made myself some hot chocolate because I feel like pampering myself today. I am now officially a Girl Who Has Been Kissed, and kissed well, and I figure I deserve a little chocolate for breakfast. I might declare this an annual holiday.

This is going to sound crazy, but I almost wish Teresa were still my friend so I could call her this morning and tell her everything.

Maybe I'm just being extra mushy right now, but I have to admit that sometimes I feel guilty about how it all ended with her. After the way she's been treating me, you'd think I would feel nothing but joy to be rid of her.

But if I had to be totally honest, I think I'd have to admit that I understand why she hates me. I mean, if she had sent some letter to someone apologizing for what I had done—without telling me—and then as a result my parents got sued for everything they own, I think I'd be pretty hateful myself.

BUT I can't see me ever slamming Teresa into her desk or calling her a
b-i-t-c-h
or any of that.

Which, if I'm
really
going to be honest, I also have to admit was part of the reason I liked hanging out with Teresa in the first place. It's exciting to have a friend like her who says what you'd never say and does things you never thought you'd get away with.

The truth is, Teresa is the same person today as the one I've liked for years.
I'm
the one who's changed. And my problem is, instead of telling her to her face I didn't like what she was doing and didn't want to be friends with her anymore, I just sent that letter to Denny and let things happen as they would. I should have been brave and up front. But instead I was a coward, and now it's caught up with me and I have to pay the price.

But I still don't have to like it.

Anyway, my point about this morning is I wish I had someone—anyone—to share it with. But what do you do when the only friend you have right now is the very one you need to talk about behind his back?

Oh my gosh. I just checked my e-mail, and there's actually something from Casey. It's times like these I wish my parents would let me get instant messaging. Our e-mail is so slow.

NUMENOR: K gave me your e-mail address. I hope this is okay.

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: Sure it's okay. What are you doing up so early?

NUMENOR: Homework. You know how it is.;) How are you?

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: Tired. You?

NUMENOR: Ditto. Want puppy updates on the hour?

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: Yes, please.

NUMENOR: What are you doing today?

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: Working in my parents’ storeroom. Again.

NUMENOR: Will I see you this weekend?

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: Don't see how.

NUMENOR: Too bad. Everything okay?

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: Yes.

NUMENOR: I mean, EVERYTHING OKAY???

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: YES!!!

NUMENOR: Just checking.

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: Good luck with the puppies. Give them all big kisses from me.I mean it.

NUMENOR: I'd rather kiss someone else.

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: I hear my parents getting up. I have to go.

NUMENOR: I'll send updates.

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: You'd better!!

Forty-eight

Please tell me I'm dreaming.

That talk my parents wanted to have with me? I wish it were about last night. I wish it were about anything but what it was.

They actually want to make some sort of Stand tomorrow at church. They told me they talked to their lawyer yesterday, and she said it looks bad for them to be slinking around, acting like they've done something wrong. She said it's industry standard to sell the kind of home owners policies my parents sold the people from church, and the chances of someone recovering against my parents if and when they do sue are pretty slim. Still, the lawyer thinks it would be a better strategy for my parents to go to church with their heads held high, daughter in tow, rather than keep acting like there's a reason to hide.

Plus, the lawyer said I have this kind of “force field” around me now, since I'm the one who busted everyone for harassing Denny nearly to death. She thinks that showing up with me every week will remind people not to push my parents too hard.

Force field? Give me a break! Is she on drugs? If anyone is going to get reamed tomorrow, it's me. I can't even imagine showing up and having to face Teresa and Adam and the holy host of youth group bullies I'm already having to suffer through seeing five days a week.

I tried to explain to my parents that everybody hates me, no one wants to see me, going with them to church will only make things worse, blah, blah, blah, but they wouldn't listen. They said I'm going.

NUMENOR: Just lost Blue. My mom had a really hard time handing him over. I thought the poor couple was going to have to pry him out of her hands. They had a little boy with them, and he nearly wet his pants, he was so excited. How's it going with you?

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: Awful! Miserable!! OMG you wouldn't believe what just happened. My parents are making me go to church with them tomorrow. They might as well prop me up in front of the firing squad. Remember how Stephanie spit in that guy's hair at the rally? Take that, multiply it by twenty-that's how people are going to treat me. And I'll have to face Pastor Wells again, too, and I'd rather lick pigeons. Tomorrow should be tons of fun. I think I'm going to stick my head in the oven now.

NUMENOR: Ouch.

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: To say the least.

NUMENOR: Will it make you feel any better to know that when Lily's parents just picked her up, she actually leaped into their arms, she was so excited?

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: No. I hate those people. We deserve Lily.

NUMENOR: I'm really sorry you have to go there tomorrow.

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: It's part of my continual punishment.

NUMENOR: Anything I can do?

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: Don't give away little Christmas. Save her for me and put her under my tree in a few months.

NUMENOR: I wish I were with you right now.

MENA@REECEINSURANCE: I'm no fun to be with. I miss you. Talk to you later.

I deleted it all. Even though I doubt my parents would check my e-mail—they already feel pretty secure, having installed every filter recommended by the Christian sites, plus a few more they found on their own, so that I won't accidentally run off with some guy who's been writing to me from prison—still, there's no sense in giving my parents yet another reason to be mad.

Not that they should ever be mad about Casey. He's the nicest guy I've ever met. I'm sure if they were even halfway normal like Mrs. Connor, they'd be thrilled to see
their daughter hanging out with someone as smart and kind as him.

But until they undergo a personality transplant, I guess I'll have to keep Casey to myself.

Which is better than nothing, trust me. It's just that I wonder sometimes if I'll ever get to live a normal life.

And if I'm going to have to keep lying like this from now on.

Forty-nine

I wish someone had been filming my life today, because I almost don't believe it myself.

All I could think about as I got dressed for church was Kayla saying, “Wear something sparkly.” I read somewhere that ancient warriors used to paint their chests black before putting on their clothes and armor, because that way in battle they'd remember their black hearts and show no mercy.

This was not an occasion for glitter powder, but I thought a black bra and underwear were entirely appropriate. Because if my parents actually wanted me to sit there for an hour of church and listen to Pastor Wells talk about sinners and evildoers while glaring at me the whole time, then spend an hour in Sunday school with that den of vipers known as the youth group, and then spend another hour hanging out in the food court or the sanctuary patio while my parents attended yet another worship service— well, I needed a little armor.