Fall Out Girl (21 page)

“Let go.” I flinched under his touch.

“Sorry,” he whispered, his eyes filled with hurt.

Oh, the hypocrisy of it all. Was he the one hurt?

I swung my leg over the tub, ungracefully climbing out, when Andrew (apparently with a knight-in-shining-armor complex) assisted me. Though I hated the humiliation, I welcomed his help.

To add offense to the spectacle I had made, my body started to shake as violently as a 9.0 earthquake.

“Damn, Luna. Let’s get inside.” Andrew wrapped his arms around my shoulders and ushered me in.

Inside, Andrew removed my coat and asked Samantha for a towel.

He draped the towel over my shoulders and rubbed my arms.

“Th-aanks, Andrew.”

“Let’s go. I’ll drive you home.”

“N-nooo, m-my…car-r i-is… outside,” I said with chattering teeth.

“Absolutely not. You’re in no condition to drive.”

I wanted to protest, but my body shook too much.

Jake appeared from inside a bedroom, dressed and toasty. I deeply disliked and resented him at that moment.

Andrew guided me outside and opened the door to his Subaru.

“W-what… about…m-my… car?” I asked.

“Tomorrow I can drive you back to pick it up.”

I nodded, mumbled an “Okay,” and settled in the passenger seat.

Once inside, Andrew turned all the vents my way and set the heater on blasting mode.

“Thank you,” I said. I had to admit he was going out of his way to be helpful.

“You’re such a party pooper,” Jake said from the back seat. “I was about to score a threesome.”

I glared back at him but refrained from unleashing a slew of profanities. What’s the use? He was baked and wouldn’t remember anything by daylight.

“Do you have a bud on you, Andrew?” he asked.

“No, man, sorry. I’m a new leaf.”

“No kidding? You’re always shitfaced.”

“Not anymore, man. I quit that shit when I lost my favorite pusher.”

The rest of the ride was in silence. A text alert echoed inside the quiet car. Andrew glanced at the phone but ignored whoever it was. I was relieved. The last thing we needed was to get in an accident. Jake was way over his curfew.

Andrew’s car cut through the snow with the agility of a sled. One day, I would own a four-wheel drive.

“Here. Safe and sound.” He pulled over in front of my house. Jake did a mock salute and staggered inside.

“Thank you, I own you one,” I said, the trembling subsiding.

“Go to the movies with me and we’ll call it even.”

My body tensed. That explains his benevolence.

Noticing my tension, he looked at my stunned face, shook his head, and said, “No, it’s not like that. Forget about it.” He flashed me a genuine smile. “What time should I come for you tomorrow to get your car?”

“Um, six thirty?” I bit the inside of my cheek.

“Damn, that’s early.”

“I’m sorry. I have to be at work by seven.” I justified.

“No prob. I’ll text you on my way here.”

“I don’t have a phone anymore.”

“I’ll just show up then.”

I watched as his car glided through the snow before I closed the door. I went to the bathroom, filled the tub with scalding water, and clambered inside. Images of Caleb’s hands holding my body haunted me, but the thought mingled with images of the two girls sitting skin to skin with him.

My body ached from emotional exhaustion. My mind was constantly worried about Jake and his downfall spiral into drug addiction. In addition, I was constantly thinking of Caleb. It was draining. I wanted to flip an internal switch and shut off all my worries and sorrows.

While soaking in the tub and restoring warmth to my frigid body, I mulled over Andrew’s words. Was it true? Had he quit drugs because I was no longer selling it? No, when you’re addicted, it’s not so easy to quit. There was a genuine tenor to his voice when he said it, though. It touched my heart that something good had come out of everything. I wasn’t about to go soft, but the thought was endearing.

I leaned my head back and sighed. Yeah, it was time I admitted to myself that deep inside I was a softy. Practically a marshmallow. I melted faster than a ball of blue cotton candy on the tongue. Well, that was not entirely true, either. I was neither good nor bad. I had lost the essence of myself trying to survive. I was devoid of an identity. And that was worse than being bad or good. The whole of me had lost—the beautiful and the ugly.

AS PROMISED, ANDREW arrived at six thirty to pick me up. The city plow had already cleaned the roads, improving the driving significantly.

He stopped behind my car. “Once again, safe and sound.” He grinned at me.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Anytime.”

“Um, about going to the movies, um, if you’re still up to it, we can go,” I said. “But I’ll pay for myself, of course.”

“I would like that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight,” he said with a smile splitting across his face. “Pick you up at seven? We can grab something to eat before.”

“Sure,” I said, opening the door. “See you at seven.”

I climbed out of the car and drew a deep breath in. It was time to move on.

At seven sharp, I heard Andrew’s rap at the door. Surely, he remembered my paranoia about punctuality. Little did he know I, too, was a new leaf. I opened the door and forced a smile on my lips. I was going to have a good time just like any other teenager.

“Hey,” I said awkwardly.

“Hey, yourself. You look beautiful.” He flicked his hand toward the car. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady.”

I giggled. (Oh, hush your judgmental mind. I was trying…)

“Thank you, m’lord,” I said, putting one foot in front of the other and bending slightly in a mocking curtsy.

After he opened my door and got me settled in, he circled the car and sat behind the wheel. “Here’s a list of movies. Do you want to pick one?”

I grabbed his cell and browsed the list. I had no idea what was at the theater. “Um, I’m game for whatever you want.”

“Oh, you might regret that.” He gave me a lopsided smile.

I shrugged. “As long as it’s not horror, I don’t care.”

“What, you don’t dig horror flicks?”

“I despise them.”

“Who would’ve thought? Goth Luna afraid of apocalypses, ghosts, and zombies.”

I frowned, outraged. “I never said I was afraid. I just don’t want to feed my mind with that junk.”

He laughed. “Be that as it may, Luna, but I bet there're some post-movie nightmares associated with your
dislike
.” He grinned and shook his head.

I turned to him. “I plead the fifth.”

“I knew it,” he said, pulling over by a pizzeria.

I smiled at him.

“Let’s go, I’m starved,” he said, his voice full of humor and charm.

After we’d eaten, we went to the movie theater. Andrew wasn’t a man of his word and paid for both our tickets. To redeem himself, he picked a comedy that was suitable for both of us. In all honesty, I wasn’t keen on action flicks, which I totally assumed he would choose. But at least I was capable of admitting I was wrong in my assumptions. It’s happened once or twice in my lifetime.

After he had driven me back home, he walked me to the front door, as any gentleman would.

“Hey, I, uh, this is weird.” He ran his hand through his hair, reminding me of Caleb. “I had a real nice time tonight. We should do it again.” He shoved his hand into his jeans.

“Sure. That would be nice.”

“For real? I mean you and Caleb…? Sure, we’re buddies, but he moved on and stuff. It’s not gonna be awkward, right?”

Ouch, that stung. Certainly Caleb had told Andrew that he had moved on. “Nope, zero weirdness. We both moved on. Part of the past.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “See yah.”

“See yah,” he said.

It was more of the same over the next few weeks. Andrew turned out to be good company. And though I sensed he wanted more, we remained in the friend zone.

We finally had a date for Jake’s trial, and I was apprehensive about the outcome. According to Mrs. Perez, if convicted, he could face seven to fourteen years in jail. She explained that the penalties for drug felonies, in this case with the intent of distributing—trafficking—often times were more severe than sexual assault or even murder. Since Jake was a minor, he would probably serve time in a juvenile detention center.

Jake reacted by pulling away. He withdrew into an impenetrable cocoon. He finally had realized how serious it all was. I couldn’t understand why he’d violated one of our rules, which was not to have too many drugs on us. When I questioned him, he told me he’d been doing it on the side for extra money. Apparently to pay for his consumption. And I, master in reading body language, boo hoo, had missed it all. I would never forgive myself for being so blind.

By spring, my body was stressed to the max. My relationship with Andrew was swaying between best friends and a few stolen kisses. He proved to be more than good company. We became very close, but his desire for more always lurked in the corners of our “friendship zone.”

I made a decision of trying for more. If there was a spark to explore, we had to do it. So, I didn’t hesitate to accept his invitation to the prom.

That decision brought me to the current dilemma, the same nightmare most teen girls face. Prom dresses. Finding the perfect dress was a challenge; try it with limited funds. It’s a tragedy of Armageddon proportion.

Yep, I did realize stressing over a dress was the ultimate vanity. But, hey, I had dipped low enough by going to prom. Losing sleep over which shoes would go with my dress was the least of my crimes. Pretty much a misdemeanor.

I briefly considered wearing the same stilettos I wore for my special date with Caleb but decided against it. I wasn’t taking a trip down memory lane. And my budget didn’t stretch enough for a new pair of shoes.

After many mental debates, loss of sleep, and probably some gray hair sprouting from my head, I finally settled for my combat boots. Going to prom was a battle in itself, might as well dress the part.

I smoothed my hair and put it up in a chignon. No, just kidding! I washed my hair, dried, and left it down. I opted for the same good old makeup. My dress was charcoal black with a flaring skirt and very low cut, which showcased the girls a little too much. I was many things, but I wasn’t an exhibitionist. (And in case you were wondering, the dress wasn’t black by choice; it was the only color on sale, but enough of the dress).

“Knock, knock,” Jake said, entering my room. “Wow, Luna. You look hot.” He lounged on my bed and propped up on his elbow to watch me get ready.

“Thanks.’”

“You might just start a new trend,” he said, nodding to my boots.

“Hardly. The odds of becoming the laughing stock of the entire night are greater.”

“Since when do you care?”

“Who said I do?”

“That’s my Moon.” He grinned.

“What are you doing tonight?” I asked, putting a stud in my nose.

“Some juniors are going to throw a party at the beach. I might go.”

“Just be careful, okay? And for the love of God, be home before curfew.”

“The party starts at my curfew, Luna.”

“Stay home then. This whole ordeal will be over soon.”

“Huh, if I get caught breaking curfew it would get me in less trouble than if cops come here. It wouldn’t look good that I live in a crack house.”

“Is your mom still fooling around with that shit?”

“Yeah, she made her case that making crack and selling is the way to go.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, either way you are screwed, huh?” I attempted to smile.

“Yeah, true,” he said pensively. His eyes were deep pools of sadness.

“What’s the matter, Jake?”

“Just wondering, you know. If I’ll go to my prom.”

“Don’t be silly. Of course, you will.”

“Nah, chances are that, if I dodge jail, I’ll end up in a body bag.”

“Don’t say that, Jake. Seriously.”

“How can we fix this, Luna?”

“We’re gonna, Jake. Listen, when I turn eighteen, I’ll have money. We can move away. I’ll pay for you to go to rehab. We’ll start over. You and I.”