How to Meet Boys (14 page)

“She does a lot of those appendix things,” Jeremy said.

“Ah. Have you ever had to have your appendix out?” I asked.

“No way. And I’m not going to.” He shook his head. “I broke my leg when I was little and that was horrible.”

He said “when I was little” like it was a long time ago. At most, he was about nine years old. I couldn’t remember his age exactly. “How old were you?” I asked.

“Four?” he said. “I was trying to learn how to jump off a slide. On my brother’s skateboard. Have you ever broken your leg?” Jeremy asked.

“Nope. I broke my arm once, though,” I said. “Playing softball.”

“What about that scar on your leg?” Jeremy pointed at my shin. “What’s that from?”

“Oh, that? That’s nothing. I fell on my bike, that’s all,” I felt my face turn hot at the memory. If I hadn’t nearly gotten run over by Jackson’s car, I might never have met him. Or if I did, I’d have met him at the Apple Store, with Lucy beside me, and I’d probably have never given him a chance.

But then I wouldn’t be in the predicament I was in right now. When I’d left for work that morning, she and Ava were laughing and talking and she didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by my news. But it was hard to get a read on her sometimes.

Should I talk to her again about whether it bugged her or not?

Should I not see Jackson until I was sure?

“Um, Miss Mikayla? You were going to teach me how to not get ten-offs, remember?” Jeremy reminded me.

“Right. Right! Okay, so here’s what we do.” I’d only learned shuffleboard a few days ago, but I was quickly getting the hang of it. “There’s no surefire way to avoid them. But I can teach you some things that will make you better overall. Come on, grab a cue.”

Another text chimed on my phone.
Come see me at work.

I can’t
, I wrote.
Can’t get away.

Me either
, he wrote back.
When are you done?

“If you have to go, it’s okay,” Jeremy said. “I can practice by myself.”

“No. It’s not okay. I’m here to work.” As much as I didn’t want to, I switched off my phone. It was killing me not to be able to see Jackson right away, but this was work. I needed to see him, but I also needed this job. “Let’s play another game.” I started lining up the disks. “This time, let’s see how many sevens we can score.”

“Probably zero,” he said.

“What? Come on, Jeremy, I know you can do better than that.” I stepped back and looked at him, with his shuffleboard cue over his shoulder. “I bet you can get two. And if you don’t? You have to buy me a waffle cone.”

“Those are like eight bucks,” he complained.

“Exactly. So get two sevens to save eight bucks,” I said. “And if you do, then I’ll buy you one.”

“That math is really messed up.” He started lining up the disks. “If you get me in ten-off, then what do I get?”

“More lessons,” I said. “And less math.”

He nodded. “Deal.”

I was putting all the croquet mallets, balls, and wickets into a long wooden locker when I suddenly felt suddenly someone touching my back. I turned, expecting to see one of the many kids coming to get me, but instead saw Jackson standing behind me. “Oh my gosh, you scared me.” I laughed and put my hand over my mouth.

“Sorry.” Jackson put his arms around my waist. “I just . . . you know. I had to see you.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean,” I said, putting my hands on his shoulders.

He pulled me closer and kissed my cheek, then my neck, then his lips were brushing lightly against mine. It was kind of like torture. In a good way.

“I saw you just now,” Jackson said. “Playing croquet.”

“You did?”

“You’re so good with kids. I’m impressed. How many younger brothers and sisters do you have, again?”

“Three,” I said. “And then there are the cousins who live with us sometimes. And the dog, the cat—”

“Good old Cinnamon,” Jackson teased. “Sounds like a full house.”

“You have no idea,” I said.

“Yeah, I’ll have to see that.” Jackson smiled.

There was this awkward pause. He looked at me kind of bashfully and I stared at the ground. We’d only been whatever it was we were for a few days, since the night of the bonfire. Who knew if we’d even last out the week, never mind the summer. And after that? What should I say?

“You want to get something to eat?” he asked.

“Dying to,” I said, relieved that he’d changed the subject. “Give me ten minutes?”

I hurried inside the Club’s main building to sign out of work and quickly change into some nonwork clothes. We’d talked about getting together after work, so I’d packed a skirt and tank and sandals.

Jackson was waiting outside in the parking lot, beside his car. “Where to?” he asked, opening the door for me.

“I don’t know,” I said. “You know the area a lot better than I do. Should we get takeout and go somewhere, or eat at the Blackbird, or—”

“I have an idea,” Jackson said as we drove through town. “There’s this old diner over in Avonville. They have great Juicy Lucys and it’s a pretty cool place.”

A Juicy Lucy is a cheeseburger where the cheese is cooked inside the burger—Minneapolis and Saint Paul have a bunch of restaurants that compete to offer the tastiest one. It was a food that Lucy hated—just because of the name.

Lucy
, I thought. I had to tell Jackson I lived with Lucy. . . . I had to tell him that things might be a little weird for a while, because even though she claimed it wasn’t a big deal—it
was
a big deal. The reaction on her face had told me that. We’d been friends long enough for me to know when she was faking her feelings. This was one of those times.

In fact, I probably ought to be heading to the cabin to hang out with her and talk things over some more, instead of riding out of town with Jackson.

“So I was thinking about something on my way over here. I don’t even know where you live,” Jackson said. “That’s weird. Why don’t I know?”

“It hasn’t really come up yet?” I said. If I told Jackson I lived with Lucy, would it change the way he felt about me? I didn’t have much choice, though. Maybe clearing the air with him would help make things better all around.

“Well, this is going to sound kind of weird, but I live in a small house on Hemlock Hill Road. And I actually live with someone you know. Lucy. Lucy Carpenter?” I said timidly.

“Oh, yeah—I saw you guys sitting next to each other at the bonfire. But—roommates? I mean, you know we work together, right? Why didn’t either of you tell me?” Jackson asked.

“At first I didn’t know who you
were
. I mean, I sort of fell for you before I even knew you guys had this connection from growing up—”

“Wait a second, wait a second,” Jackson said. “You fell for me?” He reached over and interlaced his fingers with mine.

“I met you and I was spending time with you, but I didn’t know your name. Then when I found out—well, I didn’t tell her right away,” I explained.

“Why not? And why didn’t
she
tell me you guys lived together?” He looked confused.

“It never came up between you?” I said. “I meant to tell you once I knew who you were and that you guys worked together, and I was going to, but—I don’t know. You and Lucy have this history.”

“History? What history? We were friends once.” Jackson shrugged. “We had a falling-out or whatever you call it.”

“Because . . ,” I prompted.

“I don’t know. Something happened,” Jackson said.

“Something? Don’t you know what it was?” I wanted to hear his side of the story.

“Not really,” he said. “I guess—well, maybe she sort of had a crush on me, which I can’t really believe now. We went through some awkward phase, but that was middle school. I mean, seriously. Big drama over nothing. Then we moved and I switched schools—didn’t she switch schools too?”

“Yeah, you kind of
have
to when middle school’s over,” I teased him.

“Ha ha. Anyway, she and I are perfectly fine, as long as you and I are,” Jackson said. “If anything, I think it’s cool that we have this connection. It’s like Lucy introduced us. Only she didn’t.” When he put it like that, it sounded right. Like it made sense.

But it isn’t really like that
, I thought.
Not at all.
Lucy might be saying she was okay with it—and she even might be, but I doubted she would have wished it or planned it. She’d have been much happier if she never saw Jackson again, or if she had a completely different coworker for the summer.

I was going to have to work on making this okay for her. The last thing I wanted, seriously, was for Lucy to have a bad summer while I was having the best one of my life. In fact, it actually couldn’t be the best summer for me, if she and I couldn’t be close friends the way we’d been the past three years. That would ruin it, Jackson or no.

One step at a time
, I thought, remembering the advice my dad usually gave me when I would freak out about everything going right for a certain event, or game, or meet. Best foot forward. I’d work things out with her.

After Jackson parked and before we got out of the car, he pulled me closer to him. Our lips met in one of those devastating kisses you see in movies; it felt like everything in the world was riding on this one kiss.

At least that’s how it felt to me.

We separated for a moment, and his hand caressed my cheek. “I haven’t, like, actually done this before. But . . . do you want to go out?”

“I thought we were,” I said, looking into his eyes. “You mean, . . . tomorrow? Again?” I tried to remember what was already on my calendar, if I had something planned with Lucy. Maybe I should spend the night hanging out with her and Ava.

“No. Well, maybe,” he said. “I actually meant—go out. Like, exclusively.”

“As in . . ” I wanted to be sure I had it right, that I knew what he was asking. I’d wondered before if this was what I should call him—if we were at that point yet.

“Boyfriend, girlfriend,” Jackson said. “Me, you.”

“Um, sure.” I nodded. “I mean, yes!” I smiled so widely that my face kind of hurt.

“You’re a mess sometimes. A hot mess, but still.” He curled my hair behind my ears and we started kissing again. I had a feeling we wouldn’t be going into the diner anytime soon.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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

Ava and I climbed into my car just
as Mikayla rode off on her bike to work at the Club Thursday morning. I felt relieved when Mikayla left, because every time I was around her the past couple of days, I was really uncomfortable. I was beginning to wonder if it would ever get any better or feel any more normal that she and Jackson were seeing each other.

“I should get a bike, probably,” Ava said as she watched Mikayla disappear down the road. “I think my car is going to last about two more miles and that’s it.” She looked over at her small Subaru, which was about twenty years old.

“We can definitely find a good used bike for you around here,” I said to Ava. “There’s a shop on Bay Street that sells old rentals. I mean, if it comes to that.”

“What do you mean if it comes to that?” Ava asked.

“Well, we’re not even sure you’re staying— I mean, it depends whether you get a job,” I said.

“I’ll find one, no problem,” Ava said confidently. “Or have you forgotten that I have lots of experience waiting tables? Too much experience, actually.”

“You’re right. Of course you’ll get a job.” Sure, Bridgeport was a busy community and getting a summer job was competitive—and difficult at the last minute. But Ava had this way of charming people.

“So, this club Mikayla works at. What’s it called again?” asked Ava.

“Bridgeport Beach Club,” I said.

“And are we members there?” she asked.

“
We?
You just got here. And no. And neither are my grandparents, in case that was your next question.”

“Why not? You’re saying we can’t even
go
there?” Ava demanded.

I shook my head. “Not unless we pay their ridiculous dues.”`

“But we can sneak in,” Ava said. “There’s no law against that.”

“Um . . . I think there is,” I said. “That’s why it’s called
sneaking
? I wouldn’t try it. Everything in this place gets back to people, one way or another.”

“Hm. I think I can avoid getting caught. That is, as long as it’s worth the risk. “

“What are you, a jewel thief all of a sudden?” I teased her. “How about we don’t break any rules this summer?”

“Why not?” You need to loosen up, take a few risks. Wasn’t that one of your goals for the summer? Learning how to take risks?”

“Yeah, maybe,” I admitted. I tapped my fingers against the door as I rested my arm on the open window. “I’m not sure how well that’s working out for me.”

“Really, why’s that?” asked Ava.

“Things have been kind of dicey lately,” I began. “Around the house. Well, really anytime Mikayla and I are in the same room. I said I was okay with her and Jackson hooking up . . . but I don’t think I am.”

“All I can say is the tension between you guys is killing me. It’s like as high as that freaking wall we had to scale on that dumb obstacle course when we were in the Turtle Pod.”

“You kept yelling, ‘Turtles don’t scale walls! Turtles don’t scale walls!’” I laughed, remembering the look on her fourteen-year-old face.

“Meanwhile, Mikayla scaled the thing in like two seconds. And I was lying on the ground with rope burn.” Ava rolled her eyes. “If I ever sign up for something called ‘orientation’ again, remind me not to. So, I’ve felt the tension too. But you told her you were okay with it, so are you or aren’t you?”

I should have known I couldn’t hide it from Ava. I breathed in and let it out slowly. “I’ve been trying to keep it all to myself, hoping that I’ll feel better about things, but it just isn’t working. You’re right.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me earlier?” Ava asked. “I’ve been around.”

“I know, but I was trying to deal with it on my own. Turns out, I just get angrier,” I admitted. “I just—I can’t believe that about two seconds after she told me she knew him, they were making out on the beach.”