Me & Timothy Cooper (4 page)

I
tilted
my head to better see his face. Did Timothy Cooper just i
nvite me to swim in his pool?
Then again.
Why did he invite me to swim in his pool?

He held his hands up, palm
s
outward. “Honest Abe,
I
meant nothing by it. Boy, you’re suspicious.”

I sighed. I should apologize. “I’m sorry. I’m finding this day hard to believe.”

He sank down in a large arm chair. “Why’s that?”

And I decided to be truthful. At this point, what would it hurt? “Because you’ve never talked to me before, yet here I am.”

He drained his can and crushed it with his fist. “Did you want me to talk to you?”

My fingers numbed holding the
cold aluminum. How to answer that? Yes, and I sound desperate. No, and I’m lying. “Did
you
want to talk to me?”
I asked instead.

He smiled. “Is this going to turn into another point against males?”

“That all depends on your answer.”

His eyes lit.
So he enjoys this.

“Let’s say we each
ask
one question
as part of our project
,” he said.
“And we have to answer. No
getting out of it.”

I adjusted my head on the pillow. “Okay. You go first.”

H
e set his crushed can down on the
end table. “Who have you always wanted to go out with?”

Oh, that was un
fair. A lump arose in my th
roat the size of Mt. St. Helens, and
I inhaled a shaky breath.
“Truthfully?”
I couldn’t look at him and say it. No way.

“
Lie to me. But I
’ll know it’s a lie.”

My gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. “Does my answer mean you noticed?”

He laughed. “
Answer the question
first
, Southern.”

“Why if you noticed, did you not speak to me?”

He held up a finger.
“Nope.
You can’t ask your question yet.”

I exhaled loudly. He wasn’t letting this go. “I wanted you to talk to me,” I said. That was a less painful admission, and I thought he’d be happy with it.
But no.

“Not what I asked.”

“Can we really go swimming?”

He was grinning. I looked
at him, b
ut I shouldn’t have.

“Yes, you got a suit?”

And I saw my trump card glowing before me.
I pursed my lips. “I do.
Black.
Bikini.
Text your mom to bring it, and I’ll make a trade with you.”

I could almost hear the thoughts whizzing around in his head. First, dare
he
text his mom about that? Second, dare he make a trade, not knowing what the trade was? Third … well, those were the images now floating through his brain.

“Tell you what,” I said. “I’ll text your mom, and you answer my question.”

“Deal.”

I lifted my phone
. “What’s the number?” I brought u
p a blank message and punched her number
into the keyboard.
Tim says we can swim. Can you bring my suit? Third drawer, left.
I hit send.
“Done.”

He was sweating bullets at this point, but faced me squarely. “So what’s the question?”

“Timothy Cooper, do you like me?”

His face cleared and the grin returned. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. Do.
You.
Like. Me?” I repeated the question.

He stood to his feet and crossed over
in front of
me. Taking my empty can, he paused overhead.
“More every minute.”

CHAPTER 5

Tim’s mom said nothing about her trip to my house, her rummage through my dirty clothes, or my text for the suit. She did bring it, however. She also offered to do some laundry,
for which I was grateful.
I
told her I was deep in her debt, and she laughed.

Tim made no mention of swimming in the pool,
though I caught him eyeing my things.
I figured that
would come later in the week and
had no doubt he’d make me pay up on our deal.

For supper, h
is mom ordered pizza, and Tim propped me up
on the couch
to eat it. I was beginning to enjoy all the pampering, especially from the boy who’d earlier said he liked me.
Then my phone rang, and I realized it was my parents. This meant only one thing. Grandma couldn’t find me.

“Hello? Hi, mom. Yes, I’m fine. Where am I? I’m at a friend’s, a friend from school. Yeah, I should have called Grandma. I’m sorry. What friend?
Uhm
…”

And I stalled.

“How is your trip so far?
Really?
You s
aw Jack
Niklaus
? That’s great. What’d we have f
or supper?
Pizza.
We had pizza. Listen, mom, I …
uhm
… I may stay the night. I’m not sure I feel good sleeping at home alone. No, no reason, I’m fine, really.” I held the phone away from my ear for a moment as she rattled on.

Tim shook his head, smiling.

“Parent?
Yeah, she’s here. You want to talk to her?”

No, no, no. That wasn’t good. I couldn’t expect Tim’
s mom to be dishonest, and
I had no choice
but to hand her t
he phone. It would soon hit the fan
, as they say.

“She wants to talk to you.”

Tim’
s mom took my
phone and pressed it to her ear. “Hello? Is this Taylor’s mom? My name is Nancy Cooper. You’re daughter’s welcome to
stay here. In fact, we insist, and it’s no trouble at all.
What’s that?”

S
he looked directly at me.
“My son, Timothy.”

I heard the eruption clear from my seat on the couch and more when Tim’s mom removed the phone from her ear as well. She was smiling though as she handed
it back to me
.

“Mom?
Deep breaths, mom.”
She was hyperventilating. “
Yes, he’s a boy. Y
es, I’m at his house. Yes, mom …Yes … Yes, w
e talked about that. I remember.
Well, mom
… No, wait
let me explain.
”

I rushed out my words.
“I hurt my ankle, and
Tim’
s mom is a
nurse
… was a
nurse
, so he brought me here to have it looked at.
She says I sprained it, and
I figure
he can get me to school
so it’d be easiest
. Besides, we have to do this project
together and
he’d be coming over anyhow. At least here we’re supervised.”

That sounded
like a
good
reason
to me, but my mom was
insane
at this point.

“Project, M
om.
For school.
Mrs. Walker’s class.
Oh
,
for heaven’s sake, he’s taking me to church Wednesday,
that should make you happy.
You and dad can’t leave
anyhow
or
dad will miss his conference, and
Grandma can’t come get me.”

The phone
finally fell silent, my mom having
exhausted her arguments …
and me as well.

“Mom, you can call me anytime
,
or text. Texting is better, you know. Yes, I’ll call Grandma. Of course I won’t tell her I’m at a boy’
s house. Bye, M
om. Give D
ad my love.”

I let out a screech and tossed the phone to the end of the couch.
I
then
turned to face them.

“She didn’t take it well?” he asked.

I frowned. “What do you think, Sherlock?”

He laughed.

“I think,”
his
mom said, “that it’s time for bed. Somewhere in the garage I have an old
pair of
crutch
es. Those
should help you get around at school
tomorrow
.”
She
signaled
Tim
, and he disappeared from view. “I’
ll go fix the bed
.”

She started to turn, but I stopped her.
She’d been awfully nice to me, and I really was disrupting their lives.

“Mrs. Cooper,” I said. “I … I’m sorry for all this trouble. I want you to know I’m grateful.”

She rested her hands on her hips. “You’re welcome, Taylor. I’m glad to finally meet you.”

Finally?

She must have seen the word written on my
face because she smiled softly as she left.

***

The crutches were a bit too tall, but they served their purpose. I practiced crossing the room, much to Tim’s amusement, and then stumped down the hallway toward the bathroom. His mom had left my things by the bed in his brother’s room and a night gown over the toilet. I eyed the gown and
the
attached
price tag. She’d gone shopping.
That
was
funny to me in a warped sort of way.

The gown was modest with a scooped neckline and adjustable straps. It also fell to my knees.
Pretty without being revealing.
Like what a mom concerned about her son would buy. I didn’t blame her, and in fact, was surprised she hadn’t sprung for
something that encircled my neck
and
descended
to my ankles.

I even did her a favor and wrapped myself in the towel after putting it on. As I’ve already said, I was curvy.

Mom always blamed this on
Grandma.
“Comes
from your father’s family,” she’d say
, “definitely not from mine.”

Tim was nowhere to be found, so I scoot
ed along the hallway
as best I could until I stood in the
entrance
to his little brother’s room.
It
looked like he lived there still, like
at
any minute he’d come sprinting through the door and ask why “some girl”
was
inside
.
And
I hesitated
to enter
until a voice spoke in my ear.

“It’s okay.”

Tim.

I
t didn’t seem okay. What was okay about a boy dying young?
I stumbled inside and halted beside the bed.

“Does it bother you to come in here?” I asked. My legs trembled beneath me, and I fe
ll onto the bed with a whump. Tim lounged
in the doorway.

“Sometimes.
But then so do baseball games.”

Baseball.
That would confirm the story I’d heard.

“I’m really sorry,” I said.

He shrugged. “Don’t be. I’ll tell
you about it sometime, but
not tonight.”

“You don’
t have to,
” I blurted. It
was so personal. How could I ever ask
him to share it with me?

His face took on a curious expression. “It’
s part of who I am
. He’s me.
I
f we’re supposed to learn about each other, then that has to be in it or I’m incomplete.”

“But …”

“
Goodnight, Southern,” he said, and h
e
flipped the light off and pulled the door
to, leaving me in the darkness.

I
lay down on the bed with the distinct feeling I was somehow intruding.

***

“Want to talk about it?”

Tim looked up at his mom from his
position on the
bed
, his ankles crossed over each other
. “Sure.”

“Is it Taylor? I like her.”
She settled on the corner.

Folding his arms behind his head, he smiled.
“Me too.”