Lemonade Mouth (34 page)

There was nothing I could do but join her we started down the street together with Mo holding the umbrella over both our heads and for a long time I didn’t say a word and we walked in an awkward silence. But then eventually she came out with “How’s English Comp?” as if everything else was perfectly fine.

“Great” I said keeping my eyes on the sidewalk. Why did she even bother to ask? She knew it was my worst subject. “Except of course that I’m practically failing.”

After that we both went back to not saying anything but I could tell there was something weird going on. Some unfamiliar weight. She was definitely up to something.

Finally we reached the turnoff for Naomi’s street. “Here we are” I said quickly. “This is where we part ways see you tomorrow.”

I walked on. For a moment she stayed where she was but soon I heard footsteps running up behind me. “Wait Charlie don’t go! You don’t have an umbrella I’ll walk you a little farther!”

I could see on her face that there was something on her mind. I thought of just coming out and asking her what it was but I decided against it. You never knew with Mo. Whatever it was I figured I’d find out soon enough. A block later we passed the Post Office. That was when I 1st felt her fingers brush against my hand. It happened quickly but I noticed it. I didn’t say anything in case it was unintentional. But my senses were on red alert.

A little while after that our hands touched again only this time I knew it was no accident because her fingers wrapped around mine.

I stopped walking. “What are you doing?”

“Holding your hand.”

My heart was suddenly in my throat but I made an effort to stay cool. “Yes I realize that. I’m just surprised. Especially since you already made it perfectly clear you don’t want anything to do with me.”

She was biting her lip and looking really nervous. “I know I did I’m sorry I’m so so sorry but at the time I was messed up and confused and I didn’t know what I wanted but you’re truly the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I love being around you and I really do want to be with you I’ve wanted to tell you that for so long but I didn’t know how to do it because I’ve already made such a mess of things.”

The rain had picked up by then and it was falling hard all around us and I was having a hard time making sense of this.

“I don’t get it Mo. What about everything you said about us being too different?”

“I was wrong I’m sorry” she said again. “I screwed up.”

“What about your parents? I thought you didn’t want to sneak around anymore. Like you did with Scott?”

She shrugged. “My parents already know. We worked it out. They want me to be happy and they trust my judgment.”

They worked it out? Huh? Did I miss something? Were we talking about the same parents she always said would hit the roof if she even hinted she was dating anybody? Was she serious?

I wondered if I would ever understand this girl. Who did she think I was? A toy she could play with? Some robot with no feelings? I pulled my hand away remembering what she’d said to me.

“Well you’re too late Mo. I’m not interested. I have my own grand plan now and you’re not in it.”

She bit her lip again and it looked like she might even cry. “I never meant to hurt you Charlie . . . I hope you can at least forgive me.”

I felt a wave of heat and I was about to tell her what she could do with her apologies but that’s when she took my hand again and stepped even closer. The way she peered up at me all anxious it put the brakes on whatever I was about to say.

All I could manage was “What are you doing?”

“Remember that time you poked fun at me because I never do anything on impulse? Anything reckless just because I’m dying to know what it feels like? Well get ready. I’m about to do something reckless.”

She suddenly raised herself on her toes. She must of lost track of how she was holding the umbrella because I felt the rain pelt down on my neck and the back of my jeans but I hardly paid any attention to that.

Because that’s when she kissed me.

It was quick and soft and so unexpected I nearly fell over.

“Oh God I’m sorry!” she said seconds later as she readjusted the angle of the umbrella. “You’re all wet!”

“What was
that
?” I asked. I was too surprised to be angry. The truth was that even though I didn’t want to admit it I still liked this girl just as much as ever. I never stopped thinking about her. Part of me wanted to find a way to get over my hurt feelings so we could be together only I didn’t know how.

“It was a kiss” she said. Like that wasn’t obvious. “And you want me to tell you how it felt?”

What could I say? My brain was on overload.

“Right. It felt . . . right. Tell me you didn’t feel the same thing.”

But I wasn’t ready to give up being angry yet. After all, she’d totally crushed me back at the clinic.

“You’re out of your mind” I said.

I started to pull away but she wouldn’t let go. She grabbed my hand tight and came in close again. Then for what seemed like a long time we both just stood there. Me fuming and Mo still squeezing my hand. Neither of us saying a word and the rain pelting down on the umbrella.

And that’s when she stood on her toes again. And kissed me for the 2nd time only this one was even softer. And longer. OK so now let me tell you something I learned about the Universe. It doesn’t make any sense at all. For weeks I’d been licking my wounds over this girl. Practically pulling my hair out over her. And yet now here I was standing under an umbrella kissing her. And even the kiss didn’t make sense because in my mind I’d always pictured (when I’d dared to anyway) that if Mo and I ever did kiss (and I mean a real kiss) it would be exotic and wild the kind that leaves you on your knees. But in real life it wasn’t like that at all. The genuine article was quiet and much more comfortable than I’d ever imagined. And to be honest, much better.

When it was over the calves of my jeans were soaked and I realized I’d forgotten to breathe.

WEN:
Green Specks and Suspicious-Looking
Sea Creatures

George was watching TV, but he kept wandering into the kitchen to steal pieces of dark chocolate off the counter, leftover ingredients from the concoction Sydney was working on. It was in the oven now, a complicated wonder she called a Doberge cake. Right now she and my father were too busy staring anxiously into a pot on the stove to notice George’s hand shoot out, grab a few loose chunks and pop them into his mouth.

It was a Saturday in late March and my fat lip was only a memory. Sydney and my dad were taking a Creole cooking course once a week and today they were attempting some of the recipes they’d learned. Gumbo, jambalaya and God only knew what else. They’d spent the afternoon peeling shrimp and slicing vegetables. That’s why my friends were coming to dinner. Tonight would be an experiment with Lemonade Mouth as the guinea pig.

“Okay, try it now,” my father said to Sydney, his voice a little anxious.

She dipped a spoon into the pot and tasted the creamy goop. After a moment’s consideration her frown softened. “A little better, I guess. What do you think, more Worcestershire? I’m not sure.”

My dad turned to me. “Wen, how are you doing out there, kiddo? Want to tell me what you think of this meunière sauce?”

“Not especially,” I called from the sofa. “I’m reading.”

It was weird to see him so enthusiastic in the kitchen. Not that my father never cooked before, but tuna noodle casserole and green beans mixed with canned cream of mushroom soup was about as adventurous as he ever got.

Dubious as this culinary episode seemed, I had to admit that the spicy smells wafting into the living room weren’t awful.

As I leaned back with my book, my legs automatically stretched out to rest on the black wooden trunk we’d kept for weeks in front of the sofa for lack of anywhere else to put it. Only when my feet landed on the floor was I reminded that we’d finally moved the massive thing along with most of Sydney’s other old furniture to a storage place in Warren. Besides her graphic design plans, Sydney was now also talking about starting up a part-time antiques business. I still wasn’t used to having so much space.

On my lap was
Shakespeare’s Complete Works,
a thick volume I’d found on top of a box in Olivia’s room. I’d asked to borrow it. Olivia had agreed without seeming to give it much thought. When I brought it home and flipped through the pages, though, I found notes scribbled all over the margins in slanted black pen. In the same handwriting, the name printed on the inside back cover caught my attention.

Ted Whitehead.

Holding the book more gingerly now that I knew it once belonged to Olivia’s father, I opened to
Twelfth Night,
the play Olivia said her name came from. I spent an hour or so trying to plow through it, but the ancient, flowery language was like Swahili to me. I struggled with all the “perchances,” “know’st thous” and head-scratchers like “she hath abjured the company and sight of men.” But from what I could make out, it was this crazy love story where everybody is miserable from being in love with somebody who loves someone else. Olivia is this beautiful, rich countess with all kinds of servants and clowns milling around her house. This other guy, Duke Orsinio, lies around all day and listens to music. I forced myself to plod ahead, but to be honest there was a lot I didn’t get.

“Are you ready to be astounded and amazed?”

I looked up. My dad and Sydney stood over me grinning. Sydney held out a spoon and a small cup of lumpy brown liquid. “Come on,” she beamed. “Try this.”

“What is it, exactly?”

“Crawfish bisque.”

I peered into the cup. Green specks and suspicious looking sea creatures floated at the top. I considered trying to postpone the inevitable until dinner, but they seemed so proud of themselves that I didn’t have the heart. I took the cup and the spoon and put a tiny dab of the stuff in my mouth.

Not so terrible. Pretty okay, actually.

I gave them a thumbs-up and they scurried back to the kitchen. From all the high-fives, you would have thought they’d just found a cure for cancer.

It was then that it suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t dreamt about Sydney in ages. I tried to remember the last time. Weeks ago, I guessed. Not since before the morning I’d seen her naked. In the days that followed that supremely awkward moment, I’d spent a lot of time thinking. What was it about that bathroom incident that had left me feeling so confused? It took me a while, but finally I figured out what it was.

Seeing Sydney’s body hadn’t felt exciting at all. I’d gotten no thrill out of it, no secret lust. Nada.

Instead, walking in on Sydney without her clothes had felt more like mistakenly walking in on an older cousin. Or maybe an aunt. Somebody I didn’t feel any desire for. It wasn’t at all what I’d expected.

I’d felt nothing but embarrassment.

And it’d made it even worse when Sydney had fussed over my fat lip like a mother hen.

Still, I was okay with it now. After so much shame, it felt liberating to realize that I didn’t burn with guilt around her anymore.

George shut off the TV and switched on the computer. Pretty soon he was exploring some noisy underground cave full of angry trolls and vials of poisonous potions. I went back to my reading but soon felt myself losing interest. Finally I gave up. I flipped back through the pages, marveling at all the indecipherable scribbles Olivia’s father had made. My eyes fell on a passage he’d drawn a thick box around and marked with asterisks. I hadn’t understood it the first time, but I looked at it again. The clown in Olivia’s house was singing a song that went:

There was a tap at the window. I looked up. Olivia’s face peered in at me, her Scooby-Doo backpack over her shoulder. Recently, Mo had quietly taken me aside and warned me to be careful with Olivia. “Don’t hurt her, Wen,” she’d said. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you.” But now, looking at Olivia through the window, I finally recognized the warm rush I felt whenever she was around. It was a rush I could never feel for an aunt or a cousin. I suddenly understood why I’d been hoping she might show up early.