Over the Moon (8 page)

After dinner, I decided I should prepare Mom and Dad to meet
Andrew. They were not accustomed to me being popular with boys,
and I knew they would not expect me to be pursued by one who
looked more grown-up than a typical high school student. I wasn't
sure they could handle it without embarrassing me half to death.
I was relieved that Mark had moved to his dorm. He would have
teased me unmercifully for days.

"Mom, Dad, a boy is coming over at seven to help me with some
homework."

"Is this the McAllister boy, the one who is taking you to the
dance tomorrow?"

"No, Mom. His name is Andrew Martin," I said

"I think he's Adam's younger brother. Adam owns the pharmaceutical lab where we get some of our supplies for the clinic. Andrew
delivers them on Saturdays, I think," Dad joined in, confirming the
curse of a small town-everyone knows where everyone lives, who
they are related to and what they have for breakfast.

"Well, aren't you popular? I was wondering when the boys would
notice how beautiful you are." Mom laughed.

"Stop it! You're embarrassing me."

"I'm sorry, but it's true."

"You're prejudiced. I look just like you." I pulled a face, crossed
my eyes, and stuck out my tongue at her.

"She's right, Elonna. She is definitely your daughter. We're in
for trouble. Perhaps we should look into private, girls-only schools."
Dad thought he was being funny, but I wasn't laughing.

"You'll do no such thing, Dad. You're both exaggerating. I want
you to be on your best behavior. I like Andrew, and I don't want you
interrogating him!" I pounded the table to emphasize my point. This
made them both laugh harder. I could tell they weren't going to give
me the respect I so deserved. I just hoped they wouldn't mortify me
in front of Andrew. I think my parents took classes to learn how
to distress and fluster me. They were so much better at it than any
other parents I had observed.

"Oh, there's something I should tell you about him. He's not
average in any way. What I mean is he is unlike any boy I've ever
brought home." Of course, I hadn't brought too many boys home
before, so that wasn't hard. "He has this amazingly magnetic personality. You know that guy on The Mentalist? Simon Baker? He looks
kind of like him, only younger, taller, and cuter. Please don't stare at
him when he gets here. Pretend he is ordinary like everyone else."

They stared at me with blank faces. It was as if I were talking to
them in a foreign language. They acted as if they didn't understand a
word of what I was saying. I wasn't doing a very good job of preparing them. Probably I should just let them see for themselves.

The doorbell rang, saving me from making a total fool of myself
by trying to make them understand. I opened it.

"Hello, Dr. and Mrs. Dawson. I'm Andrew Martin. I'm here to
help Tiana with some homework." He shook their hands. I could tell
my dad was impressed by his confidence, and I think my mom was a
little stunned by his attractiveness and his mesmerizing charm.

"It's nice to meet you, Andrew," Dad said.

"Yes, welcome to our home." Mom had regained most of her
normal composure.

Slim came out from under the couch and rubbed against
Andrew's legs. He reached down and patted the cat's head. Mom,
Dad, and I looked at one another with raised eyebrows.

"Is something wrong?" Andrew asked when he saw our puzzled
faces.

"Slim doesn't like strangers," I explained. "He usually runs
upstairs and hides under my bed." What I should have said is that
he always runs and hides. This was not anywhere near normal for my
overly cautious and shamelessly nervous cat.

"I guess I must not be too strange." He laughed.

"We'll leave you to do homework. Your dad and I will clean
up for you in the kitchen, Tiana." Mom dragged Dad away but not
before giving me the look that meant she wanted to know more. I
didn't know what I was going to tell her.

"What homework do you want to do?" I asked him when my
parents were out of hearing range.

"How about chapter one in history?"

"Done," I said.

"Have you finished reading A Midsummer Night's Dream?"

"Three times. I wrote my paper last night." I smirked at him.

He chuckled. "Well, maybe you should help me."

"I guess I could do that." We ended up reading each other's
papers. His was on the difference between mature, balanced love and
the doting, irrational kind, as illustrated by the different characters in
the play. Mine was on distinguishing between appearance and reality.
They were both well written. We were off to a very good start.

I gave in and let him help me with my math assignment. He had
calculus completely mastered, and he was extremely patient with me. He didn't even make me feel stupid, and that was hard because I
generally feel less than competent about math in general.

"How do you like Hurricane High now that you've made it
through the first two weeks?" he asked me when we were finished.

"I like history and English; geography and math, not so much.
PE is barely tolerable, and I'm undecided about Spanish." I told him
the absolute truth.

"What do you like best about history and English?" I debated
with myself for a few seconds, trying to decide how much I should
admit to him. He knew why I liked those classes. He just wanted to
hear me say it. What the heck? What did I have to lose?

"Well, there's this guy in those classes. He makes those subjects
much more interesting." I told the truth. Why couldn't I lie to him
or tell half the truth? I usually didn't give this much honesty to boys
I had just met. I was always worried about what they might think if
I revealed my true feelings. A girl had to keep some secrets. I should
try harder to keep him guessing. I made a mental note and promised
myself I would try not to spill too many of my inner thoughts. I
needed to preserve some hint of mystery.

He smiled. He seemed to like my honest answer. It was worth
revealing my true feelings just to see him smile at me like that.

"It's my turn to ask the questions. Why did you move to this
small town? Wouldn't Salt Lake or Vegas be a better place for a
prominent pharmaceutical lab?"

"Undoubtedly, but my brother and sister-in-law prefer small
towns. We kind of felt we were guided here for something important. I know it sounds crazy, but I think there's a reason why I'm
here."

"Do you have any idea what that reason might be?" I had goose
bumps.

"Yes, I think I do." His crooked smile was enigmatic, but he
didn't explain.

"What is it?" I was caught up in the moment. I wanted him to
tell me it was something to do with me, as wildly improbable as that
was.

"I've got to go now. I have early morning deliveries to make
tomorrow." He wasn't going to answer my much-too-personal question. That wasn't fair. I had answered his uncomfortable inquiry. I
tried not to look too disappointed. I didn't want to scare him away.

"So soon?" I looked at my watch. It was eleven thirty. "Oh, I
guess it is late. Where did the time go? I think it must have slipped
by while you so patiently tutored me in math. Thanks for that."

"My pleasure," he said. "I'm always at your service. I enjoyed
being with you tonight. Will you walk me out to my car?" As we
left the lighted porch, I noticed his eyes were curiously bright. He
turned toward me, and they were positively glowing.

"Your eyes look florescent," I observed.

He completely ignored my remark. Instead he took me by the
shoulders, turned me toward him, kissed my forehead, and said,
"Jordan McAllister is a very lucky boy."

"I can tell him I'm coming down with the stomach flu." I knew
I couldn't, but I wanted to desperately, and my stomach was feeling
really unsettled at that moment.

"No, you need to go. You would feel too guilty if you lied your
way out. I am going to make you a list of very valid excuses for future
reference starting with `I'm going with Andrew."'

My heart did a double backflip. He looked at me with those
glowing, turquoise eyes and touched my lips with his fingertip,
pulled me close for a minute, and then left me there.

That night, I dreamed I was in the tunnel again. I could hear
the voice telling me to run faster toward the two beams of light. As
I came closer, I could finally see. The beams were Andrew's eyes.
It was his voice. He beckoned to me with both hands. His gleaming grin reminded me of the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland.
I reached out to take his hand, and he disappeared into the starstudded night. His eyes turned into iridescent stars, and his smile
became the brilliant, slightly tilted, crescent-shaped moon.

When I woke up, the sun was already filtering though my bedroom
curtains. It took me a few minutes to remember what day it was. I
sat up straight in my bed. It was Saturday. Tonight was the Welcome Back Dance. What was I going to wear? Why hadn't I thought
about this sooner?

I jumped out of bed and opened my closet door. I searched the
hangers. Thank goodness. There it was, hiding behind the heavy
wool coat that I would most likely never wear again, the perfect
dress. I had only worn it once-to the "Christmas dance disaster."

I had donated the matching stilettos to the Salvation Army. I had
dreamed of homeless people walking around in my emerald green,
high-heeled shoes for weeks after that. They were always swearing at me for not disposing of them properly after they fell down and
broke their arms or legs or both. Ouch!

I had kept the dress. It was emerald green silk with rhinestones
accentuating the V-neck. It was sleeveless with a little matching
cap-sleeve shrug. It was simple and elegant. I hoped it wasn't cursed
like those deadly shoes.

I tried it on. It still fit me perfectly. I looked almost sophisticated in it. It emphasized my green eyes and made my red hair look
brighter. My skin appeared to be more creamy alabaster and less
chalky white. I thought I looked pretty good for me, even a little
better than I had when I wore it before.

Mom knocked on my door. I opened it, wearing that perfect
dress.

"You still look amazing in that gown!" she exclaimed. "I have
some shoes that are exactly that color. I'll get them."

"Wait, Mom, no high heels." I didn't want to repeat my history.

"They have tiny heels. You won't even notice them," she assured
me. She returned with dainty, emerald green sandals that had just
enough of a narrow wedge heel to be feminine. They were the nearly
perfect shoes for this perfect dress, and I could probably remain
upright in them without exerting too much effort.

"Please be careful tonight," she said as I admired my reflection
in the full-length mirror on the back of my closet door. "Andrew
seems so much older than boys your age. Boys like him often bring
trouble."

"Mom, I'm going with Jordan, remember?"

"I saw the way Andrew looks at you. Make sure you leave the
dance with Jordan," my annoyingly perceptive mother warned me.

"Of course I will, Mom." I tried to relax. I knew she was just
being a concerned mother. It was her sworn duty to worry about me.
I couldn't tell her the only reason I wanted to go to the dance at all
was to dance with Andrew. I certainly wasn't going to tell her that
if he were bringing trouble, I was ready and willing to take it on. I
was asking for trouble, and I knew it. She was probably right to be
worried. There might be heartache in my future. I had allowed that flicker of hope to invade my heart, and I had to follow the course it
had set me on. I'd probably be sorry, but there was no turning back
now. I had to live out the dream, as impossible and painful as it
might turn out to be.

Somehow I made it through the day. I cleaned my room from
top to bottom. I scrubbed my bathroom down with bleach and
cleanser even though I loathe that smell. I did all my laundry, and
then I folded it and put it away. I vacuumed the entire house and
mopped the kitchen for Mom. I thought earning a few brownie
points couldn't hurt. Maybe she wouldn't hassle me so much about
Andrew in the future if I could stay in her good graces. I was hoping
to see a lot more of Andrew in my future. It was unfair that she was
judging him harshly.

Finally, after the longest day I had ever lived, it was time to get
ready. I pinned my hair back on one side with a rhinestone-covered
barrette. I applied a little mascara to outline my eyes and brushed
my cheeks with blush. I added my favorite peach-colored lipstick.
I hardly recognized myself in the mirror. I really looked grown-up,
and that was a good thing, a very good thing. I wanted to knock
Andrew off his feet.

The doorbell rang. The only thing that could make this night
better was if it were Andrew waiting out there on my doorstep
instead of Jordan. I opened the door wishing for a miracle. No miracles tonight. It was only Jordan. He seemed to be more nervous than
I was. I couldn't help feeling sorry for him. I vowed I would make
the Herculean effort to enjoy myself or, at the very least, pretend to
do so for his sake. I guess I owed him that much.