From Where I Watch You (7 page)

Noelle will likely give me crap for sitting with Hayden, even with her back to me. But I see she’s on her cell so I duck into the kitchen. The tinny spray of water in the sink along with Charlie’s whistling makes me smile. Maybe he’s not pissed at me over our last conversation. Or maybe he thinks nothing of it because he doesn’t waste time thinking of me at all.

Instead of walking around the corner to check, I chicken out and sneak out the service door.

THE NEXT DAY I
stand in front of the bank with my first paycheck from Crockett’s.

I had to wait twenty minutes after my shift ended for my sniffing dickhead boss to get it out of the safe for me. I waited while he showed Jason, the new guy who started this week, how to use the intercom. Jason’s a college senior and kisses the boss’s ass, and every customer’s ass, too. I’ve been here longer than him and I haven’t been taught how to use the intercom. Even though talking really isn’t my thing, it still ticks me off.

Noelle blows out a smoke ring, drops her cigarette, and grinds it into the sidewalk. God I hate when she smokes; I don’t want to be near the stink of it.

“Let me see that.” She grabs the check out of my hand. Her eyes bug out and she laughs out loud. “Holy shit, Kar! Just quit. Quit Crockett’s right now and take off everything but your apron and I’ll drop you off at Mr. Peeper’s. You’ll have ticket money by morning.”

Before we walk into the bank I see Charlie down the street, heading toward that church again.

When I hesitate, Noelle pulls me into the lobby and hands over my two weeks of hell on paper to the teller. The euphoria of getting paid fades fast as I slink out the door.

“A few more checks and I’ll be good.”

Noelle squeezes my arm, reeking of stale smoke. “If I could sneak you some cash I would, you know it, right? I only work to get away from my parents but it would take me a lot of paychecks to afford a plane ticket. Speaking of, I gotta go. Come keep me company? For a little while? Mason might stop by later.”

Luckily for Noelle, the owner leaves before she works the shift at the pet shop. Only she could find a job that lets her make out with her boyfriend on the clock. “Um, okay.” I start across the street so she can’t see my face, watching for Charlie.

She hops in front of me, blocking my path. “Who are you checking on?”

I wave her off. Charlie is out of sight anyway.

Suddenly it dawns on her. “Oh, ohh, Charlie,” she moans, closing her eyes and shoving her hips back and forth.

“You’re a psychotic pig.”

“I know, but still, you love me. Oh!” She screeches, crouching down to a puppy that’s stopped at her feet.

There are too many dogs around here.

The owner smiles and patiently holds the leash with two white-knuckled hands while the dog slobbers all over Noelle’s face. I am forgotten so I melt away cross the street.

TWILIGHT NEARS AS I
sit on the trampoline in the backyard of my old house. My frozen fingertips trace the rough-edged holes made from Kellen’s cigarettes. In my lap sits the unread note that waited for me in math today.

I used to love the trampoline. My trampoline. It was a gift for my eighth birthday from Mom and Dad. Usually I’d jump and then take a break to read or play Barbies. Until Kellen and her friends took it over as we got older.

Now I sit and watch the back door. I’m determined to master Kellen’s remaining stash, determined to get at least halfway down a toke without coughing. The weed burns all the way down my throat so maybe I’m doing it right—maybe I’ll feel the effects this time. It would be nice to really forget life for a while. I won’t read the note until I feel better.

Even though it’s been a long time, these are the nights I miss my old friends. If Gaby wasn’t trying to sneak us into a party, then we’d have a sleepover and watch horror movies and order pizza.

Noelle never wants to be home. And my apartment is already too crowded with just me and Mom. Sleepovers are out.

I puff again. So far, going through Kellen’s stuff, I haven’t found anything as interesting as the weed, though there’s one more box to look through. When she died, she took my secret with her. It’s ironic how I now have all of her secret things because the task of emptying her room fell to me. Of course it did. Back then Mom couldn’t even get out of bed.

I snuff out the joint. Carefully I roll it and the lighter into the towel and stick it back into the Playtex box. The trampoline creaks as I shove the box into my bag. Dead leaves crunch under my feet when I slide off the trampoline. I suck in a breath and wait. The air feels wet and frosty but still smells of dead foliage and mud.

Dark and dead things are all around me. My heart starts to pound a little because I’m away from the safety of the trampoline.

Is he here, watching me? I scramble along the edge of the house, hoping the new owners don’t pop out with a shotgun.

The sidewalks are old and cracked, bulging from the tree roots underneath. A person could wind up with a concussion if they didn’t know where they were going in the dark. I’m thinking about this as I start to run. When I reach the Ave I have a seriously bad craving for ice cream. Maybe the pot did work a little. The sign above the ice cream shop is suddenly hilarious and I burst into laughter.

When I calm down, I see the place is packed so I keep walking, and giggling. I giggle with the sweet aroma of sugar cones tagging along with me.

The whole Ave is lined with sparkly trees sprinkled with white lights, and couples holding hands. Some of them walk dogs. More dogs! Slobbering over dog-lovers like Noelle! The Hill is one big sparkly, twinkly, dog-loving place! The whole thing makes me giggle even more, and as a horn honks I double over like an idiot, consumed with laughter. A bus roars past me, and now I’m wheezing and my eyes are watering and I’m out of control. My chest hurts and I don’t want to laugh at all but I can’t stop . . .

Charlie steps into my path. “Sprinkles?”

June: Thirteen-Year-Old Carrot’s
Summer
Fun
Before High School

When I get home from the pool, Mom’s car is gone so I know she and Dad have left for their anniversary weekend trip to Victoria. Kellen told me she thinks they will get divorced and this trip is supposed to save their marriage. I think my sister is full of it.

Kellen’s boyfriend Tad’s car sits in the driveway, but when I walk in the house all I hear is the hum of the refrigerator. Maybe they went for a walk.

I wait and listen for the sounds I’ve heard before. Sounds that will make me turn the TV up loud or else I’ll barf. When I don’t hear them, I switch off the Mr. Coffee that’s been turned on by Dad for the third time today to reheat the morning dregs.

Mom left money by the coffee pot with a sticky note attached that says Pizza. Now through the screen on the sliding door I hear laughter coming from the backyard.

“Hey, Carrot!” my sister yells.

I peek out and see ten beer bottles on the deck railing. Kellen sits cross-legged on my trampoline, with Tad, and his best friend, Nick. They’re all laughing at something.

“Carrot! C’mere!” Kellen yells again.

I walk into the laundry room, drop my swim bag and head back to the kitchen door to listen. Droplets of water from inside my swimsuit drizzle down the back of my leg as I try to hide in the doorjamb. But then Kellen’s face is smashed up against the screen.

“Hey, I thought you were going to the pool,” she says, opening the screen and stepping inside.

She seems like she’s in a better mood than earlier. “I did,” I say, biting my nail.

“Well.” She grabs the pizza money off the counter. “I’m hungry and Mom left us money so let’s go!” She’s already down the deck stairs.

My hair is still wet and my sundress is damp. “Kellen, I need to change. I don’t look—”

She stomps back up the stairs. “Come on, Kar! No one cares what you look like and I don’t want to wait an hour for you to put your mascara back on. If you want pizza get your ass out here now!” She slides open the screen and pulls me through it.

“C’mon, boys, if you want a piece you better follow me!”

I don’t look at them but I hear the trampoline creak as they jump down. Kellen starts running and Tad jogs up behind her, grabbing her butt. It’s so gross when he does that. If they start making out I think I might puke. Tad wears flip flops and jeans and no shirt, and Kellen beats her fists against his back as he pulls her up and tosses her over his shoulder.

Nick walks behind them and I walk behind him. I don’t want to be with any of them and I’ll be so happy when Mom decides I’m old enough to not have Kellen babysit me. Jen and Gaby can go anywhere by themselves, even to the Ave. I don’t know what Mom’s problem is.

Nick stuffs his hands in his pockets and seems to be ignoring Tad and Kellen as much as I am. He looks like he stepped off the golf course with his polo shirt and Bermuda shorts and his legs are really tan and not too hairy. Even when Tad and Kellen are being jerks, Nick is usually sweet to me. If I were Kellen I’d go for Nick over Tad any day.

8.
Bake until golden.

..........................................................

Charlie looks so serious. Tears are running down my cheeks because of the crazy laughing. My cheeks feel cold. For some reason, that makes me giggle again. I can’t stop. I blow out a shaky breath.

He wrinkles his nose. “You smell like weed.”

I’ll probably pee myself if I keep this up. “Uh . . . It’s just gum,” I whisper. God, what is wrong with me?

“Sure it is,” Charlie replies, his mouth twisting up into a smile. “Okay.” He grabs my elbow and steers me two doors down to El Diablo Coffee.

Charlie practically drags me to a table between the fireplace and the window. When I look at the window I see the fireplace reflected behind me. Little flames are lined up like perfect little demon soldiers, and they all dance on top of my head. I giggle because my head is on fire.

Charlie pulls his chair next to mine, watching me laugh because now his head is on fire, too. The steamer spray pings against metal pitchers and baristas yell out the drinks ready for pickup, and every other drink is hemp or rice because on the Hill, people forget that real milk comes from a cow.

He pats my shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

I turn back around to the windows. Now the fire on my head isn’t as funny, thank God. But in the reflection I see Charlie, talking with a blond barista with a fake red flower above her ear. He smiles and she laughs too much.

I consider leaving, but change my mind when I see the only escape route, crammed with college people. Charlie made me come here, and now he’s flirting with other girls. But I don’t care, so I take out my notebook.

Charlie lowers a mug in front of me and sits down with his black coffee.

“Diary?”

“No,” I reply, staring at my mug of whipped cream perfection, topped with crimson sprinkles. “Baking stuff.”

“So you’re writing about baking stuff while you’re baked?” He smiles at his little joke and I try not to smile back. “What were you doing out there in the dark, by yourself, laughing at the moon?”

My face flushes.

“You’re not much of a talker are you, Sprinkles?”

“Not when you call me that.”

“How’s the job at Crockett’s going? Doesn’t seem like your type of place.”

“Why do you say that? You don’t really know me.” I sigh because I can’t seem to get a word out that doesn’t sound bitchy. “I just need money.”

“To get to San Francisco.”

I want to say “duh” but again, I’m trying hard to be nice so I sip cocoa and get whipped cream on the end of my nose.

Charlie laughs. “I asked the barista to put extra on it.”

I stare at his reflection and the sweatshirt he wears.

“Why are you wearing a Kennedy shirt?” I ask.

“I go to school there, Kara.” His voice is dry, puzzled.

I don’t know why it shocks me, but it does. He dropped out of sight freshman year, and now he’s back, only in private school. “But why? Why there?”

“Just needed a change.” He turns away and swirls the coffee around in his mug. “When I came back.”

All of a sudden I want to know everything about him because there are secrets behind his eyes. I want to know him.

“Where were you?”

He studies his cup for a moment. “California, Sprinkles. Wanted to learn how to surf. Isn’t that why anyone moves to California? Surfing or becoming famous? Or baking, in your case.”

“You’re lying.”

One corner of his mouth curls up into a smile and he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “So, are you going to San Francisco by yourself?”

“I don’t need anyone else.”

“Hmm, a girl, traveling alone.”

I exhale slowly. The “alone” in his sentence makes me think of the notes, and I wonder if whoever wrote them is watching us right now. I also think of Mom, the former defense lawyer, and the arguments I’m going to need so she’ll let me go. “I’m a big girl, thanks, and I’ve pretty much grown up in a city. I can handle it.”