I'm Not Her (14 page)

I pull up to Nick’s place and the nerves in my belly help to block the memory of my mom. One foot hits the pavement. His house is old and small. Green paint chips off in chunks on the house and the fence that surrounds the front yard. The fence is rotting and broken apart in places. It would make a great haunted house for Halloween, but it’s not decorated on purpose.

I get off my bike and roll it forward, and my nose wrinkles up at the smell that lingers in the air, a mixture of dog poo and garbage. Inside my head, I hear the disapproving voice of my mother. Except it’s me. My voice. And I’m not supposed to care about stuff like that. I don’t want to be anything like her.

I drop my bike on brown, weedy grass and take a deep breath. I force myself to walk to the door and ring the doorbell. It sounds sick, like it has a cold. The bell sets off a dog’s barks inside the house and a man’s deep voice bellows out a curse.

“Someone get the goddamn door,” he screeches. The yapping dog gets louder until it’s right at the front, separated from me by a flimsy door with a screen in front of it.

There’s a bang, and the door opens and a little girl appears behind the screen. She’s thin, with dirty-looking brown hair. She’s wearing an unfashionable flowered dress that hangs to knobby knees. The girl has one hand on the dog’s head. He’s the homeliest dog I have ever seen. Lopsided ears, one sticking up, the other hanging down, long gray wiry fur. Luckily his tail is wagging and he’s not snarling like I’m his midafternoon snack. “Yes?” she asks me.

“Uh, is Nick home?”

She stares at me. “Are you Tess?” she says.

I hide my surprise, but nod.

“Nick told me about you.” She smiles and her face lights up, and I see the beauty underneath the dirt and old clothes. She has Nick’s features, but a smaller, feminine nose.

“Goddamn it, Natalie. Who’s at the door?” the voice bellows from inside the house. I imagine the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk. For a moment I’m afraid he’s going to appear, come out and find me on his front porch and chase me away, or worse, pull me inside and gobble me up.

“If they’re selling something, tell ’em to get lost,” the voice shouts.

“It’s okay, Dad. It’s no one,” the girl calls without taking her eyes off me.

“Then get me another beer, would you? And hurry your lazy ass up.”

“Wait here,” she says softly to me, and then she disappears from the door. The dog sits and stares at me with a low growl.

I stand in front of the door, shifting from foot to foot, embarrassed and not sure where to look or what to do. The dog’s penetrating gaze makes me nervous. Just as I’m contemplating turning around to leave, the door bangs again and Nick appears in the doorway. My heart does a little machine gun sequence and my stomach burns.

“Slumming?” he says. He doesn’t look very happy to see me. Like the little girl, his hand automatically goes to the dog’s head.

“Uh, I was hoping we could talk.”

“How’d you even know where I live, Tess?”

I shrug. “I found it on the Internet.”

“My address?”

“You wouldn’t believe what else I found on there,” I joke.

He doesn’t smile, just stares at me, then looks behind him in the house. He opens the door and steps outside and the dog joins him and he holds the screen door so it closes quietly behind him.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s walk.”

“Uh, shouldn’t your dog be on a leash?”

“Killer? Nah. She’s doesn’t need one.”

I don’t say anything, but glance nervously at the dog. Killer stares at me with alert brown eyes.

“You’re not afraid of dogs, are you?”

“No.” I step back when Killer starts to pant.

He laughs. “You are so.” He scratches the dog behind the ear and her tail thumps back and forth. “Don’t worry. Despite the name, she wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“You’re sure?”

“I trust her more than I’d trust any human being in this world,” Nick says. “Go on, let her smell your hand.”

I don’t want to stick out my hand in case Killer wants to snap it off for a snack. I don’t want to look like a chicken either, so I put it out and Killer sniffs and then her long pink tongue darts out and she slurps my palm.

I wipe the slobber on my pants and follow Nick down the sidewalk as he starts to walk. He takes big steps and I hustle to keep up with him and his four-legged friend who trots happily at his side.

We stroll in silence to the end of his street, past equally beat-up houses, but when we turn around the corner the condition of the houses improves here and there. His house is no longer in view and he slows down and the dog matches his pace. His body seems less tense. He looks at me. “You okay?” he asks.

I fight to keep myself from breaking into tears. My nose drips and, mortified, I wipe it with the back of my hand.

“Something happen to your sister?” he asks.

His question sparks some rage, which takes me by surprise but helps keep tears away. “I don’t want to talk about my sister.” I glare at him. “What about your sister? I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

He stops moving and stares at me. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Tess.” He starts walking again past huge poplar trees that line the street.

My cheeks warm. His voice sounds harder than it does at school. I wonder if he’s mad at me for coming to his house. A stupid impulse. “Yeah? There are a lot of things you don’t know about me too.”

We pass a house decorated with hanging skeletons and a row of pumpkins on the porch. The house across the street has a small tree in front covered in fake spider webs. Must be kids in the house, excited for Halloween night.

“Hey. You came to find me. You’re the one who wants to talk. So talk.”

Killer growls at a squirrel jumping from one tree to another, busy collecting a stash for the winter. Nick reaches down and pats her head and her tail wags.

“Do you want to go out with me?” I blurt.

Nick stops walking and scratches behind Killer’s ear, watching me. “You mean, on a date?” he finally asks.

When I see his confused look, I want to disappear through the cracks in the sidewalk, like a long-legged spider. I wish I could pluck my words back from the air. I am such an idiot! I was totally wrong. He obviously never had any intention of asking me out. And now I’ve made a total ass of myself.

Who was I trying to kid? What was I expecting? He’d be holding the glass slipper I left at the ball? I don’t even want to be Cinderella. On principle, I’m supposed to be opposed to the idea of being rescued by a prince or even attending a ball.

I really need some cooperation from God for once and pray to be struck down by a freakish bolt of lightning. I hold in my tears and mortification and study the sidewalk, feeling like I’ve been picked last for a soccer team. Again.

There’s a sudden streak of wetness on the back of my hand and I pull back, surprised. Killer is using me as a licking post.

“Whoa, Killer likes you,” Nick says.

At least someone does. I search for words inside my head to deal with this horrible mess I’ve created.

“She’s a good judge of character,” he adds in a soft voice.

“What did you want from me?” I ask him.

“Uh, you came to
my
house,” Nick answers.

“I’m not talking about now,” I say. “What do you want to ask me? You keep saying you have something to ask me and then you never do. I thought…” I stop, too humiliated to go on.

He sighs and his hand reaches up and he pushes back his hair. “I wanted to ask you to help. My sister. Well, she has a hard time in school. I can’t afford to get her a tutor and my old man doesn’t give a shit. So, I thought about you. I thought you might want to add tutoring to your school resume, you know. I thought you might tutor her, but then when I found out about your sister, well, I couldn’t ask.”

“Your sister?” I repeat. “The little kid at your house?” No wonder she knew who I was. He told her I would be her friggin’ baby-sitter.

“She’s small but she’s in the seventh grade. I think she has learning disabilities, but we can’t afford to get her tested and the school won’t do it. Not enough funding. It’s always about the money you know. But, I thought maybe you would do it, you know, volunteer hours for your Honor Society.”

I don’t answer, feeling somehow ashamed of my Dad’s overflowing bank account and six-figure job. Getting his sister help wouldn’t be an issue in my family.

“I’m sorry. She looks younger than seventh grade,” I say, instead of apologizing for my family’s wealth. “But I didn’t make it anyway.”

“What?”

“The Honor Society.”

“How could you not make it?”

“Skipping classes. Missing homework. You know, the usual. Anyhow, I don’t think I could help your sister. There’s my sister and then this drawing contest.” I picture his sister’s cute smile and horrible dress and it makes me feel selfish. As if my life is the only thing that matters.

“Drawing contest?” he asks.

It amazes me how much it jazzes me he’s asking about it. No one else bothered to ask. “For contemporary drawing. The Oswald Drawing Prize for emerging artists. It’s friggin’ amazing. There’s a Junior Division for grades nine to twelve and a winner from each state gets art listings across the country and the Grand Champion gets a full scholarship to the Academy of Art University in San Francisco in their graduating year.” The info rambles from my tongue almost as one run-on sentence.

Nick rubs his chin and his eyes show interest. “Wow. I didn’t know you were into art.”

“Totally.”

He nods.

“The winners also get a free trip to San Francisco.”

“Sweet. So, you entered already? For free?”

“No. There’s an entry fee, a few hundred dollars, but my problem is more that I can’t seem to finish. It’s like I’ve been stalled or something. Ever since Kristina, well, I haven’t sent my entry in yet.” I laugh bitterly. “I only have a few days. The entries have to be in soon.”

He runs his hand through his hair. “That’s cool. Really cool.”

Killer rubs against me then and almost knocks me over. I try not to freak out. I have no idea why this dog is taking to me. Dogs usually hate me as much as I hate them.

“Anyhow. Sorry about your sister,” I say. “I just can’t cut it right now.”

“Yeah. That’s too bad. She would like you. I told her about you.”

“Well, maybe I could help,” I mumble, but my voice isn’t very convincing, even to me. Adding tutoring his sister to my plate is too overwhelming to think about.

He shrugs. On the street, a man gets out of a station wagon that’s probably older than my parents and slams the door. He glares at us with distaste and heads up a driveway and then disappears inside the house.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out. You don’t have to say yes to everything, you know. It’s okay to say no.” He puts his arm around my shoulder and squeezes. I want to pretend he’s doing it because he wants to but I know he’s not. It’s patronizing.

“Anyhow. About your question,” he says it with a grin but it quickly fades and he stares at me all serious and remorseful.

“No.” I squirm out from his arm. “Forget it.” My cheeks light up like glow sticks, so I turn away. “I didn’t really mean it. I mean, you know. I’m just having a crappy day and needed some comic relief, so I thought humiliating myself would provide that.”

He takes my hand, folding my fingers inside his bigger ones. I shiver and practically swoon. My insides celebrate the sensation and I have an overwhelming desire to press my body against his, so the whole thing can feel as alive and as wonderful as my hand. The urge makes my cheeks flare brighter.

He holds on to my hand, smiling his lopsided smile. He takes a step toward me so we’re even closer and he leans down so we’re nose to nose. His fingers brush against my cheek and he wipes away a tear I didn’t even know was there. And then he does the strangest thing. He lifts his finger to his mouth and licks my tear. It should be gross, but it’s so sweet that another tear drops from my eyes.

“You taste sad,” he says and then groans. “Man, Tess. You’re just a kid.”

He pulls my body toward his and slides a hand around my waist and it makes me dizzy. His breath on my cheek melts me. I don’t dare move. Or breathe. I want. I want so badly for him to kiss me and I might break into pieces and perish if he doesn’t.

He leans down and his lips, his soft, gentle lips, press against my cheek. My eyes close as I imagine the feeling on my lips. I want to know that feeling.

“Damn,” he whispers and pulls away.

I barely manage to stifle a moan. My eyes are closed and I’m still dizzy. And then I sense him as he leans closer again. I hold my breath. For a brief exquisite moment he presses his lips against mine. Somewhere my brain registers it, but everything is focused on those lips. They’re moist and soft and the feel of them is thrilling. A new, yet somehow familiar, sensation travels all the way through my body as my lips respond to his by instinct. I open them just slightly and his open and my head spins with pleasure. He’s the most exquisite kisser in the entire world. I practically fall against him, weak and infected. I can’t believe this is happening to me. Me!

Then, it happens.

He pulls back.

My eyes open in protest as he takes a step back. I almost cry out. His tongue flicks out as he licks his lips. I lift my fingers to my mouth, jealous.

“Damn,” he says again. “I shouldn’t have done that. You’re just a kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” I reply, but my body betrays me. I’m jumpy with my longing but also shy and afraid. Inexperienced.

“You’re only fifteen,” he says.

“And you’re only eighteen,” I manage to say, sounding much, much braver than I feel.

“Older in more ways than you know, princess. Remember what your sister said. I’m a man-whore.”

Ouch. But it’s true. She did say that. But not with me. I’m not like the other girls. I’m different. Smarter. I think I understand him. I’ve seen his softer side, and Lord knows, he’s seen mine.

He grins and then growls like a cartoon wolf and his smile widens. He crosses his arms and stares down at me, as if he’s challenging me to a duel or something. “So you didn’t really want to ask me out?”