Living Backwards (5 page)

“My parents are in Tacoma for the evening,” I explained. “I think my dad wanted to avoid a house full of giggling teenage girls. But I’ll level with you. I’m not braiding anyone’s hair or playing Truth or Dare. In fact, I think we need to keep giggling to a minimum.”

“I had no intention of braiding your hair,” Danielle replied defensively. “But I brought my make-up case. You should totally be wearing darker colors. You’re a winter.”

“Sorry,” I added. “Let me restate the ground rules. No giggling, braiding, truth or daring and no makeovers. Other than that, let’s enjoy our girl’s night!” I looked over to Meg and noticed that her scowl had morphed into a small, tight-lipped smile. I was making progress.

After finishing our dinner and wowing the girls with my culinary prowess, I suggested we bring our drinks upstairs and watch the movie in my room just in case my parents decided to come home early. It was mostly for my benefit. Since I had now reconciled with Captain Morgan, I felt that we should spend some quality time together. Danielle pounced on my bed, flopping against the pillows like a ragdoll.

“So, I booked a limo for the prom last night,” she began with a dreamy look in her eyes. “I just can’t wait. It’s going to be the best night of our lives.” It was amazing how we truly believed those things in high school. “And you, Megan, need to decide who you’re going with,” she added, shooting Megan a pointed look.

“It’s just the prom, Danielle,” Megan replied unimpressed.

“It’s not just the prom, Danielle,” she imitated. “It’s The Prom, with capital letters. Right, Jillian?”

“Well, prom really isn’t my thing,” I replied cautiously. No use pretending. I was well aware that no one was going to ask me, and I was psyched that I’d get to relive that humiliation again. Really I was.

Danielle gave me a strange look. “You’re the second person to say that. Wait!” she shouted.

“What?” I replied nervously.

“Do you see what I see, Meg?”

“See what?”

“Jillian.” She motioned to me like I was the prize in some game show.

“Yes, I see Jillian. Are you already drunk?”

“Of course not. This is perfect!” She wasn’t making any sense, even for a possibly drunk person.

“I agree. I’m pretty awesome,” I replied confused. “But perfect? No.”

“I meant for Luke Chambers!”

“Luke?” I replied incredulously.

“Yes, he said those exact words to me yesterday.”

“He told you he was awesome?”

“No, silly. He doesn’t think prom is his thing either. You should go together and be all anti-disestablishment together.”

“That’s not a real word, Danielle,” Megan added.

“Yes, it is,” she countered.

“
Irregardless
,” I interrupted rolling my eyes. “I think we’d kill each other if we were forced to go to the prom together.”

“Speaking of killing each other,” Megan interrupted with a look that screamed she had a good story to tell. I was just grateful for the diversion. “Major girl fight in the cafeteria today. Did you hear that Mike Wakefield asked both Karen Larson and that freshman Jen to the prom? Instead of kicking his ass like they should have, they started scratching and pulling at each other’s hair. Karen’s extensions came out. It was amazing!”

I snorted. “I don’t understand the lure of Wakefield. He’s a mouth breather.”

“A what?” Danielle asked.

“You know…someone who doesn’t breathe through their nose so they always sound like an obscene phone caller when you talk to them.” I was startled by the belly laugh that escaped from Megan.

“She’s right! He sounds like he’s run a marathon every time he talks to me,” she mused. “And sometimes he gets this gross spittle in the corner of his mouth.”

“I know!” I squealed. “I was paired up with him for a project once and I spent the whole time trying not to look at him because the spittle on his lips made me gag.” While it didn’t last long, I got a small smile out of her, and it wasn’t the one that looked like she smelled something bad.
Fess up, Meg. You like me. I rock.

“Getting back to Jillian,” Danielle began. “I think you and Luke would look so good together. He’s a winter, too.” I needed a new diversion.

“Danielle, what did you mean when you said that Meg needed to decide who she was going with? Is there a waiting list?”

“She’s had five different offers,” Danielle explained. “Three of which are pretty decent, but she has yet to answer any of them.”

I was fairly certain that I knew why Megan hadn’t accepted any of the offers. I just needed her to confirm it. I couldn’t let the opportunity to ask about Nate pass by.

“Is it because you’re waiting on someone else?”

“No, no,” Danielle answered for her. “She’s just stubborn and likes to torture me. So, you need to pick one, Meg. I say you should go with Grant. He’s always been very sweet and he’ll look great in a tux.”

Meg was either extremely uncomfortable or found the laces on her Reeboks fascinating. I think my buddy Captain was working his magic on her, as well.
Tell the truth.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” I added. “Who is it?” Danielle’s head shot up and she furrowed her brows.

“Megan Dunn, are you seriously holding out on me?” Danielle chimed in.

“It’s nothing,” she replied, picking at the soles of her sneakers.

“It’s not nothing, Megan, if that’s the reason you clam up every time I mention the freaking prom.”

Megan took a deep breath before looking up, clearly not wanting to discuss this with us.

“Who?” Danielle asked softly. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, all right? He doesn’t even acknowledge my existence! I’ve tried everything and he doesn’t even glance my way. I feel so stupid.”

“Maybe you’re just going about it wrong,” I offered letting the alcohol do the talking.

“Jillian, I don’t need any advice on how to land a date,” she snapped. I had to remind myself to tread lightly.

“Is it Kurt?” Danielle asked still trying to pry the truth from her.

“No,” she sighed burying her head in her hands. “It’s Nate Barrett.” Her response sounded muffled, but we heard her loud and clear.

“Nate ?” Danielle gasped.

“Yes, I-love-nothing-but-football Nate. I’m-too-busy-to-think-about-girls Nate. I-don’t-even-notice-when-Megan-is-wearing-a-see-through-top Nate,” she muttered.

“Wait a second,” I added. “Maybe that really isn’t the way to get his attention.”

“Jillian, I’ve tried talking to him and he’s still completely uninterested.”

“Have you tried talking to him about football,” Danielle asked. “I told Josh that I was into Weezer even though I only really liked the lead singer’s glasses. It still worked like a charm.”

“I think Nate would figure it out if Megan was faking her way through a conversation about football. You don’t know anything about the game, do you?” I asked, knowing full well that Megan won the football pool at the bar in our neighborhood almost every year. The girl was a football encyclopedia.

“I love football. I just don’t want him to see me as one of his buddies.”

“Guys dig girls who like sports. We just need to grab his attention.”

I hadn’t really planned to get involved in altering another aspect of the past, but if Megan and Nate would eventually meet and fall in love, I wasn’t technically changing anything. Just speeding it up a bit. I didn’t have a plan in place yet, though. I had to think quickly. “Meg, I’m not calling you a stalker or anything, so don’t get mad, but do you happen to know Nate’s schedule?” You’re totally lying if you say you don’t know the schedule of the boy you like. Every girl does; it’s a fact. Meg began to blush. Of course she did.

“He has western civ, gym, trig and chem in the morning. I think he has third lunch, then auto shop and Spanish.” The plan was forming quickly thanks to an image in my head of Megan Fox in Transformers. I was sure that Megan wouldn’t mind this Megan stealing one of her moves.

“I hereby decree that Operation Nate will commence at 0800 hours on Monday. Are you with me?” I asked putting my hand out. Danielle quickly put hers on top of mine. Megan looked like she was going to throw up, but slowly put hers on top of Danielle’s. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

I began filling them in on my plan until we all started to yawn. We hadn’t even watched the movie, but I felt that the study date was a tremendous success. I convinced the girls to spend the night with very little effort. Even though I was the one drinking most of the rum, I didn’t want to take any chances. Once I heard their steady breaths from the blankets on the floor, I padded over to my desk to take one last pull from the bottle. On my desk sat the calendar and its Word of the Day. I pulled off April 30th to reveal the word for the May 1st.

Ineluctable: 1. incapable of being evaded; 2. inescapable: an ineluctable destiny.

Tomorrow’s word seemed appropriate for Meg considering our plans. I already knew
my
destiny. I knew what the future had in store. There wasn’t anything here for me. I needed to focus on Meg and Danielle, and make things right for them. That was my destiny.

“Luke,” Scanlon called from the doorway of the teacher’s lounge. He was sipping from a mug that said “Mechanics Do it Better” which was kind of inappropriate. “The parts for your bike arrived this morning. Swing by after school and we can get started.”

On Friday, after running some diagnostics, he figured out that there was more going on with my bike than I thought. We had to rebuild the clutch. Fortunately, his buddy who worked with vintage cycles could get the parts pretty quickly.

Instead of feeling relieved, though, I was pretty irritated. Mrs. Dupont had finally cornered me and sentenced me to detention all week in her Dungeon of Misinformation. Torturing me was probably going to be the highlight of her week.

“I can’t after school, Mr. S,” I explained. “I have detention with Dupont all week.”

“Three weeks to graduation, Luke,” he replied with a disapproving tone, “and you’re spending one of them in detention. Was it really worth it?” I know he didn’t really want me to answer that question. While it may have been stupid to storm off like I did, I still thought her grading sucked. And Scanlon knew that Dupont and I didn’t have the best relationship. I was sure he’d heard her complain about me as well. I could see her ranting about “that Chambers kid” who thought he knew everything. I may not know everything, but I was pretty sure I knew more than she did.

I shrugged my shoulders because while it may not have been worth it to lose time in the shop, given the chance, I’d probably do it again.

“Well,” he began, rocking slowly back and forth on the balls of his feet, “I have a class during second lunch that’s mostly seniors. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind learning a thing or two about vintage cycles. Isn’t that your lunch period?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Yes, it is,” I replied, my smile broadening. “I actually have a free period, then lunch.”

“I’m monitoring the cafeteria for first lunch so I can’t meet you any earlier, but come by during your lunch break and we can get started,” he offered patting me on the back.

“Thanks, Mr. S,” I replied as I turned to leave.

“And Luke,” he called back to me with a smirk, “lay off Mrs. Dupont, okay?” I nodded grudgingly. Scanlon had been good to me and if that was all he asked in return, I could try to silently put up with her ignorance for just a little longer.

As I made my way back to my locker, I noticed Mike Wakefield trying to molest another unsuspecting victim next to my locker. His back was to me and he was practically leaning on top of the poor girl. I’d never understand what girls saw in the guy. I wanted to bring in a stun gun and zap him in the nuts to keep him away. As I got closer, instead of being assaulted by the cooing and baby-talk that I normally had to endure, I heard a voice laced with venom.

“Let me get this straight,” the girl sneered. “I’m supposed to be flattered that you’ve never found me attractive before, and now suddenly you think I’m hot? Do I have that right?”

“Don’t get upset, baby,” he replied. “Maybe I didn’t notice you then, but you sure have my attention now.” I could see his hand sliding up and down her arm.

“Let me make this abundantly clear, Mike,” she snapped. “I am not, in any way, interested, and if you don’t take your hands off me, I will kick you square in the balls.”

Smart girl.

“Jillian, come on.”

I turned quickly because if he was touching her, and she didn’t want him to, I’d gladly take the opportunity I’d been waiting for to pummel him. As I grabbed his shoulder to pull him away, true to her warning, Jillian brought her knee up forcefully right into his nuts. Mike immediately doubled over into a drooling mess on the tile floor.

“Bitch!” he howled cupping his junk as he rolled around on the ground. I winced, shifting uncomfortably.

“Expect company today, Chambers,” she said as she breezed past me. “It’s been another shitty day.”

I watched as she walked down the stairs and through the front door leaving me speechless while Mike rolled around on the floor in agony. It wasn’t often that someone surprised me, but I was standing there staring at the door like an idiot, totally caught off guard. Whatever it was that had gotten into her was kind of hot in a crazy-girl kind of way.

I looked down at Mike who was still swearing and groaning as he crawled onto his knees. I held out a hand to help him up, but as he regained his balance, I pulled him up to me by the collar of his flannel.

“Don’t you ever let me catch you bothering her again,” I growled into his ear. “You hear me?”

He pulled away, brushing the dirt from the floor off his clothes.

“You can have her,” he sneered.

And I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was the fact that he was acting like an asshole. Maybe it was because I had spent the last eight months watching him grope Karen Larson’s boobs against my locker. Maybe it was just because of Jillian. Whatever the reason, I drew back and punched him, sending him careening backwards into the lockers on the other side of the hall. I turned around to leave as I saw Karen run from the other end of the hall to help him. As I walked down the stairs, I wondered if he’d tell her why I punched him. If he were smart, he’d keep his mouth shut then he could keep on grabbing her boobs and I could avoid more detention. Regardless, I couldn’t find it in myself to feel sorry. He deserved it.

I didn’t wait until I was behind the gym to grab a cigarette. I couldn’t wait because my knuckles were starting to feel sore now that the adrenaline had faded. It was a small price to pay. Punching Wakefield felt good. I could scratch that off of my list of things I wanted to do before I graduated. I guess I should thank Jillian for that.

When I rounded the corner, she was sitting on one of the milk crates with her head against the wall. The sparkly, pink, sad excuse for a flask was at her lips.

“If you’re crashing my party, Cross,” I began boldly. “You better come prepared to share.” She narrowed her eyes at me, as if she were sizing me up before raising her arm and offering me the flask. I looked at it for a moment. If I hadn’t just punched Wakefield, I wouldn’t have been able to justify drinking from a pink flask, but I needed something to numb the throbbing. I took a quick pull.

“Vodka? Really?”

“Maybe you should get your own if you don’t like it,” she responded sarcastically.

“See, that’s where we differ,” I replied. “I’m not crazy enough to bring my flask to school or to give it a name.”

“I’m sure we differ in lots of ways, Luke,” she shot back, clearly not offended.

“Yeah, I’m not Wakefield’s type.”

“That was just the icing on the cake of my day. I volunteered to help a friend with boy problems,” she explained rolling her eyes. “I shouldn’t say ‘volunteer’ since it was
my
brilliant idea.”

“So what’s the problem then?” She was going to have to spell this one out for me.

“Well, you have a few drinks. You get a brilliant idea,” she began slowly, taking another sip. “You sober up and realize that your idea may not be as fool proof as you may have initially believed.”

“I don’t get that about girls—the need to play matchmaker,” I responded grabbing the flask from her again.

“I’m not playing matchmaker,” she countered. “They would have figured it out in their own time. I’m sure of that. I’m just helping them along. It’s my approach that I’m just not so sure of.” She looked down at her watch and groaned. “Time to put the plan in motion. Wish me luck.”

“Sounds like you’ll need it,” I replied as she gathered herself up from the milk crate. “Later,” I added with a smirk as I watched her leave. I was beginning to enjoy watching her walk away a little too much. I couldn’t really blame Mike for taking a sudden interest in her.

“Your turn to bring the refreshments,” she called back grinning. Apparently intending to turn my afternoon breaks into a pot luck.

I finished my cigarette and tossed it with the dozens of other butts on the ground. I walked through the parking lot to grab my bike and drove it around the back of the building where Scanlon’s shop was. After parking it in one of the open bays, I made my way over to Mr. S.

“Luke. Great, you’re here,” he greeted me. “Listen up, people. We’re going to learn a little bit about motorcycle repair today while I help Mr. Chambers here rebuild the clutch on his bike. Last year, Luke started to rebuild a 1973 Honda CL 175, a beautiful bike. He’s been experiencing some problems with the clutch so we’re going to remove the whole assembly and install a new one.” He grabbed the box of parts on the table in front of him, carried them over to the bay with my bike, and immediately went to work taking it apart as the class looked on.

“Now Luke, we need to make sure the shifter shaft arm is aligned correctly,” he began while handing me a pivot bolt. “The arm should point directly to the center of the clutch and the ball bearing lifter mechanism will ride on the shifter arm. So—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Scanlon?” We all looked up at the voice that interrupted him. It was Jillian. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s something wrong with my car and I can’t figure it out. I was told you might be able to help.”

Jillian hadn’t mentioned anything about car trouble, and I had just left her twenty minutes ago. If she had said something, I could’ve looked at it.

“Sure, sure, Miss…”

“Cross. Jillian,” she replied. I didn’t think she even realized I was in the class and for some reason it irritated me that she hadn’t made eye contact yet.

“Okay, Jillian, can you pull it into the bay over there,” he asked pointing to the middle doorway. As she pulled the car in, I noticed the white smoke coming out of the exhaust pipe.

“So, what seems to be the problem?”

“Jillian!” I turned and noticed Megan Dunn running over. “Jeez, can you trust me and not go running off when I’m trying to help you?” she fumed.

“I’m sorry, Megan,” Jillian replied sounding exasperated. “I’m sure you think you know what the problem is, but I’d like a professional opinion.”

Megan turned to Mr. Scanlon, her arms crossed in front of her chest and her head held high.

“It’s a blown head gasket,” she stated matter-of-factly. “The engine is overheating. It miss-fires and the check engine light comes on. And she’s always adding coolant to the radiator.” She turned to Jillian. “He needs to do a cooling system pressure test for you to see if there’s a leak in the system.”

“Can you please let Mr. Scanlon decide what’s best to do?” she countered.

“Actually, Jillian, your friend here is right. Let me grab the kit.” Jillian watched him walk over to his tool cabinet. As she scanned the room, she noticed me standing by the door, gave me a small smile and winked. Then it started making sense. This was part of whatever scheme she was talking about. Under any other circumstance, I would’ve been pissed that she was taking up time I could be using to fix my bike, but I was finding the show amusing. As I looked around the room, it appeared that the other guys in class were too. Maybe too much.

“Here we are,” Scanlon began when he returned with the small black case.

“Mr. Scanlon, may I?” Megan asked holding out her hand towards the case.

“Oh, it’s a little complicated, Miss…”

“Megan Dunn. And I’ve used one before. I need to prove to my friend that I know what I’m talking about.”

“Well, let me help you,” he replied tentatively. Megan pulled open the hood stretching up tall, and looking down onto the engine. I don’t think there was a person in the room other than Scanlon that was looking inside the hood. All eyes were on Megan’s tight tank top and small jean skirt. I, on the other hand, found my eyes drifting over to the small brunette standing back and watching the scene unfold with a satisfied smirk.

When Megan bent over the hood to attach the pump, brushing her hair off her shoulders, I watched Nate Barrett and a few of his football buddies suck in their breaths.

“Could you hold this for me?” she asked Nate, reaching out to hand him one of the parts. He had to move closer in order to reach, but he seemed frozen in place. One of his friends gave him a quick shove forward which snapped him out of his trance. It was when she bent over again, pointing out the different parts of the engine that the entire room heard a very distinct groan emanate from his chest.

I guess I know who the poor schmuck is now.

“Sorry,” he replied nervously clearing his throat. “I’ve got a dry throat.”

Is that what they call it these days?

I hadn’t noticed that Jillian had slowly backed up next to me. I couldn’t stop fidgeting, turning the pivot bolt around in my hand.

“And
that
is how it’s done,” she whispered enjoying her opportunity to gloat.

“Pleased with your handiwork?” I asked, teasing her.

“If I do say so myself,” she answered smugly.

“How’d you know you had a blown head gasket?”

“I didn’t,” she began wide-eyed like a kid telling a secret. “Megan figured it out. I was going to yank out The Baron’s spark plugs or something, but she took a look in the hood and told me what was wrong. She’s the real deal over there.”

“The Red Baron?” I asked confused.

“My car,” she explained as if it were obvious.

“Naturally,” I replied shaking my head. “Why wouldn’t a girl who names her flask name her car too? What was I thinking?”

“Don’t be a buzzkill, Luke,” she scolded. “I just made a love connection. Show some respect.”

“I’ll give you this much,” I offered, “there are a lot of guys that are going to be sitting uncomfortably for the rest of the day after seeing her bending over the hood like that.”

“Oh, really now?” she asked, one brow shooting up.

“She’s not my type, Cross,” I replied quickly without thinking. I thought I had a type, but lately I wasn’t so sure. At any rate, I wasn’t about to discuss “my type” with Jillian especially since I was staring at her ass less than a half hour ago. “Shouldn’t you be in class somewhere?”

“I have World Lit but Danielle Powers told Gilbert that I was having female problems,” she whispered scrunching up her nose. “It’s cliché but it totally works.”