Pretty Girl Thirteen (17 page)

He pulled over to the curb and killed the engine a few blocks short of school. He took her hand. “Ange, I really missed you. Then you were back in my life for, like, two seconds and then gone again. Can we, I don’t know, see if the old spark is still there?”

“But what about Li—”

Greg stopped her protest with a kiss. She closed her eyes and felt the swooshing of the lazy river again, felt the heat of a long-ago sun. Three years of forgotten time fell away and she was thirteen and caught in the incredible grip of first love. She sighed against his mouth. His hands slipped around her and pulled her toward his seat at an awkward angle. The gearshift poked her in the ribs. “Ouch,” she muttered.

“This is majorly uncomfortable, isn’t it?” he commented. His eyes flicked to the backseat. Angie’s flicked to the clock. They had fifteen minutes to make out before school started. Was it worth it?
Hell yes,
a voice inside urged her. Well, the good doctor had told her to listen to her voices! Why not?

They scrambled out their own doors and met in the backseat. “Duck,” Greg whispered, staying below window level. “Duck.”

“Goose.” Angie giggled and pulled him down to cover her. “You’re it.” Her arms wrapped his neck. Her legs wrapped his waist. Daring. But how else would they fit? It wasn’t a big car.

He sank his face into her neck and kissed the skin all the way along the edge of her V-neck shirt until he got to the cleavage point.

Her skin fizzed with every touch. “Are we sparking yet?” she asked. Her breath was shallow. Just looking into his black olive eyes gave her goosebumps.

“All eight cylinders, you bet!” He laughed and rubbed his cheek on hers. His face was just a little prickly, and it gave her the strangest feeling of déjà vu. She licked his lips with the tip of her tongue. That sure got his attention. The kisses deepened, and his hands slid up inside and found her bra. Then the kissing stopped. His face took on a look of concentration, and he was rocking his hips harder against her. His sweater scratched the soft skin of her stomach where her shirt pulled up, and his belt buckle gouged against her. She whimpered, and he laughed, misunderstanding, and pressed harder through his jeans. A wave of terror shot through her. What was she doing? He would be out of control soon. No! School was starting. But yes, she had to, had to have him closer and more. Little animal sounds in her throat begged him. His breath came in gasps. He groaned a word that might have been her name. Then he was done with her, leaning back and resting his head against the car window. “Oh wow,” he gasped. “Oh wow.”

Angie was cold, exposed, her top pushed up around her neck, her body confused, throbbing, still stretching for something out of reach. “What …?”

He slapped the ceiling and hooted. “Angela Gracie, you are the best-kept secret. You may look like a domestic Chevy, but under the hood, you’re a hot, fast Porsche. What an awesome ride.”

Perhaps he thought that was a compliment? Angie didn’t know what to say.

He threaded his hands into her hair. “And that’s with everything on. I knew we still had it.”

Angie found a tiny voice. “Does that mean … does that mean you’ll tell Livvie now? About us?”

Greg’s face turned slightly confused. “Oh, uh, yeah. I … just give me a little time to figure out how. I don’t want to upset her. You understand. That’s what’s so great about you. You know Liv.” He kissed her on the nose. “Come on. Hop up front. We’re really late for class.” He shot her a white grin that sent lightning flashes straight to her toes.

Angie unfolded from the backseat and straightened her clothes, before she opened the door to move. Greg still liked her, all right. The problem was, she didn’t know whether to feel wonderful or stupid. And her body ached for him.

U
NFINISHED BUSINESS.
W
HY WAS IT ALWAYS UNFINISHED
business between her and Greg?

“Well, he obviously hasn’t told her yet,” Kate whispered across the lunch table. “I mean, look at them.”

“I’d rather not,” Angie said, peeking anyway. Of course, she had wasted no time confirming Kate’s prediction, that with only the slightest encouragement, Greg wanted her back. But three days later, Greg was still eating lunch with Liv and tossing Angie only the most sideways glances to let her know he knew she knew he hadn’t officially broken up with Liv. Ugh. Why did it have to be so complicated?

“It’s getting awfully close,” Kate said.

“What is, their knees under the table?”

“No, you jealous voyeur. The fall formal. I mean, he has to uninvite her if he’s going to take you, right? We’re starting ticket sales tomorrow.”

Until this moment Angie hadn’t even considered it. “Are you going?”

“I have to. Student government VP and all that. Noblesse oblige.”

“What does that mean?” Angie asked.

“My position obligated me, more or less. Plus Ali asked me. Can’t say no to my president!”

Just an obligation? Kate’s dimple suggested it was more than that.

Angie followed her gaze to the table where Ali and his twin brother, Abraim, usually sat alone for lunch. As the only two Muslims in the senior class, they were two peas in their own pod, identically handsome and smart—perfect for Kate. Angie teased her. “You like him too. Don’t you?”

Kate shrugged, failing to wipe the smile off her face. “At least I don’t have to worry about him getting drunk.”

Angie snorted. “Bought your dress yet?”

“That’s on the agenda for Saturday. Come with me tomorrow and we’ll shop for you, too.”

Great. Another expense for Mom and Dad. But if she got a regular babysitting job Friday nights, she could at least contribute. She’d talk to Mrs. Harris as soon as she got home.

Mrs. Harris was thrilled at Angie’s offer. “That would be just wonderful, dear. If I get Sammy off to bed at seven, we can pop out for a quick dinner.”

“I’ll come at six,” Angie insisted. “It’s your night off. Just tell me his bedtime routine, and I’ll take care of everything. Make it dinner and a movie, even. I’ll be fine.” The more hours, the more dollars.

“He’s a little tricky to settle down,” Mrs. Harris warned as her husband went to start the car. It was already six fifteen. Her instructions had been thorough, covering every possibility from diaper rash to Martian landings. “Don’t hesitate to call if there’s a problem.”

Angie hoisted Sam on her hip. His fingers tangled and pulled her hair. His breath was sweet and carroty. “Go. Don’t worry about a thing.”

“You seem very confident,” Mrs. Harris said. “Do you babysit a lot?”

“Actually, not a lot,” Angie said. In fact, never. “But we’ll be fine. Mom’s just across the cul-de-sac if I need advice.”

Mrs. Harris relaxed. “Oh, yes. You’re right. What am I worried about? And of course, if you were his big sister, I wouldn’t think twice. Your mom’s going to be so lucky to have you to help her out.” She leaned forward and kissed the baby in the middle of the towhead fluff standing straight up on his head. He made a grab for her hair, but it was safely pulled back in a sleek blond bun. “Be good, Sammy. Be good for your honorary big sister.” She chuckled.

“I think he looks like you a little,” Angie said.

“How sweet of you to say so, Angie. Of course, only a coincidence, after all. See you in a few hours.”

Angie lifted a tiny fist from her hair and waved it. “Say bye-bye, Sam. Bye-bye, Mom.”

“Ba-ba ma,” he said, waving. “Ba-ba ma.” He crowed with pride and buried his face in Angie’s neck, giggling. She cuddled him close, thinking for the first time that it might not be so awful for Mom to have a baby. Sam fit into her arms like he belonged.

Next morning, when Kate arrived to pick her up, Angie was hollow-eyed and exhausted. She couldn’t explain it. It’s not like the Harrises had gotten home too late. And she’d slept in till after nine. Only one hint—her room was spotless, and her rocker was halfway across the room, facing the window, with the blanket neatly rolled like a mini sleeping bag. Looked like Girl Scout had gone into a cleaning frenzy and sat up the rest of the night, rocking. At her next therapy session she would ask Dr. Grant to please find out if Girl Scout was her mad rocker—so they could “communicate and negotiate.”

“Shopping, shopping, shop-ping!” Kate sang to a cha-cha beat. “We are going shop-ping.”

“Groan.”

“What’s the matter, Ange?”

“I am possessed by a rocking demon. She seriously gets me out of bed for hours.”

Kate clamped her hands on Angie’s forehead. “Out. I cast you out, rocking demon,” she muttered in a deep voice. “Out!” She flung her arms apart. “There. Did it work?”

Angie tossed her a twisted smile. “We’ll see tonight.”

The hunt for dresses was frustrating at first. Kate wanted something not too short, not too strappy, not too plungy for Ali’s sensitivities. Of course, everything she discarded as inappropriate, Angie’s hands grabbed. At least Angie had a clue what was going on now. Slut wanted a party dress. Slut wanted a private party with Greg. Angie was having trouble telling where Slut’s feelings for him left off and hers started. Maybe they were the same, but she wasn’t sure.

“Here, try this,” Kate said, thrusting a satiny dark blue thing at her.

“It looks so boring,” Angie argued.

Kate stuffed it into her hands. “Just try it.”

Angie came out of the dressing room with a new appreciation for Kate’s taste. “Oh, girlfriend, just look at me,” she commanded. She twirled, full-skirted in front of the triple mirror, and the dress, which hung below her knees at rest, flared into a spinning shimmer. The sapphire color turned her skin milky white, her cheeks rose pink, and her gray eyes twilight blue.

A dressing room at the far end opened and out stepped a girl in ruby red—Livvie, in a strapless crimson mini. Her cleavage was legendary. “I guess jewel tones are in,” she said with a tight laugh. “Nice dress. Who’s taking you?”

Angie’s mouth dried up. A week away, and Greg still hadn’t straightened it out.

Kate came out of another room to save her life. “It’s a surprise, Liv,” she said. “Apparently.”

“Why, it’s Glinda the Good!” Liv commented.

Not entirely fair. Kate’s dress was a pale blue gauze monstrosity with puffed sleeves, but not totally good-witch-in-a-bubble material. “I’m going to alter it.”

Angie was impressed. “You know how to do that?”

“Oh yeah. Piece of cake,” Kate said. “I like yours, too, Liv. You look like a Twizzler with tits.”

“Oh, stuff it,” Liv said over her shoulder as she flounced back into her dressing room.

“Is that her secret?” Angie whispered with a giggle.

Kate yelled down the row of dressing rooms, “Don’t cut the tags off too soon.”

Angie nudged her. “You are soooo bad.”

“Ridiculous,” Kate replied in a high voice. “Don’t you know I’m Glinda the Good?”

By Wednesday, it was getting completely irksome. Greg hadn’t called her, hadn’t changed his lunch-with-Liv routine. She finally had to break down and stalk him to get him alone after school. When he opened his car door to leave, she was in the passenger seat, waiting. “You never lock, do you?”

“Safe part of town,” he said. “What’s up?”

Ugh. How awkward. Again. “I—you haven’t—I haven’t heard from you,” she said lamely.

“What do you mean? I see you every day. I haven’t heard from you, either.”

Angie frowned. “I mean, I—you—have you talked to Livvie yet?”

A shadow of annoyance crossed his face. “It’s only been a few days. I will. Hey, don’t nag me about it.”

Angie shrank into the seat. “It’s just, I was thinking, with the formal coming up and …” She trailed off.

His jaw tightened. He exhaled loudly. Angie stopped breathing.

“The formal. Oh. Right.” He turned back to her and rested his hand on her arm. “So, like, Liv and I already had a date for the formal. I made dinner reservations a long time ago. She already bought an expensive dress and everything.” He smiled apologetically. “I knew you’d understand.”

Angie started, “I bough—” and stopped herself.

“But right after that, I’ll tell her, I swear. It’s bad timing now, is all.” He took her face between his hands. “I still … you’re still really important to me. God, don’t look at me like that. You make me crazy for you.”

He glanced at the windows and sank his lips into hers like a bee diving headfirst into a flower.