Rule #9 (17 page)

4. Don’t cut in on their time with their dad—they still need time alone with him.

5. Don’t be jealous of them—they are 13 and 10. How old are you? Act like it.

6. Remember how much you love your father. Now put yourself in their shoes!

“That’s it. The rules can change when and if the situation changes. Until then, you need to follow the rules.” I rip the paper out of the notebook and plop it in front of Gaby.

Then I take her stupid “How to Deal” book and drop it into the trash on my way out the door.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Alicia heats me up a plate of food. I came back because where else am I gonna go? Alicia and I don’t talk, but she does manage to keep my father out of the kitchen. I think about Gaby’s new rules. Stepmonsters Wendy and Stephanie don’t follow them. They could never follow them, they probably will never follow them. Alicia does, and she’s never seen the rules. Anyway, it’s my dad who can’t find balance. Balance. That’s a word my mom uses, not me.

“Thanks for the food.” I stand.

Alicia takes my plate and turns toward the sink. “For what it’s worth, men never think. If your dad really thought he was going to hurt you, he would have never said that. The truth is, he doesn’t trust Jack and you are his baby. His only goal is to keep the boy away from you at any cost. Jack is like the salt. We’re always trying to keep what we think is bad away from the ones we love the most.”

“Why doesn’t he trust Jack? And if Jack is so bad, why are they all buddy-buddy at practice?” My butt finds the chair.

“You need to talk to Jack about that.”

My teeth dig into my lip. Now there are secrets. And Alicia’s not going to tell me. Jack can’t be that bad. He was at their wedding. I haven’t been told he’s off-limits. She’s got to know that we’ve been hanging out, since she’s friends with his sister. Maybe she hasn’t shared that with my dad.

My eyebrows scrunch and I wait for Alicia to say something, anything.

“It’s not that bad, but it’s also not mine to share,” she says.

With that I head to my room. I lay my head on the soft pillow, and then send my mom another text.

I’m okay and I love you. BTW Alicia’s not that bad and Gaby and I made new rules. She has a boyfriend. With kids! Can’t wait till you get home. And I’m on to you
…

My mother hasn’t called me much since she left. She doesn’t want to interfere. I know that she wants me to figure out things for myself. She believes that Alicia isn’t that bad (maybe she isn’t) and that by staying out of touch, my mom is allowing me to make my own judgments without her input. I know my mother. She’s not fooling me.

I wake to the following text.

Love you—your dad wasn’t so bad being married to. Look what we produced. Knowing how it would end, I would do it all over again so I would have you.

In other words, always remember “The Dance,” by Garth.

I want to stay home but I can’t miss my English test. Reeves said there would be no making it up, since tonight is the big homecoming game. I’m not going to that either. Jack and Sidney should receive awards for avoiding me. I never see them together. I can’t believe she’s not flaunting him. Now I’m going to be forced to suffer through a class where Sidney tells Lauren about her homecoming dress. I’m nauseated. I think I’ll slit my throat with…

I look into my backpack but find only an unsharpened pencil.

I can make it work.

“My date…” Sidney makes sure I hear every word she spits out with that high-pitched voice. She sounds like someone from those annoying kid shows. “…will
die
when he sees me. My mom dropped a couple hundred already, and I still need to get my hair and nails done.” Sidney fans her fingers.

“Yay, me!” I can’t resist mocking her.

When the bell rings, I stomp out of class. My friends stop me. We’re standing in the middle of hall like freshman do. We’re in the way of everyone. Natalie and Vianna beg me to go to homecoming with them. Natalie bumps into my right side and says, “Come on, it’ll be fun. Don’t be a wimp.”

Vianna nudges me on the left and wines, “We don’t want to go without you.”

“Okay,” I say in my best imitation of the freshman squeaky voice, excited and loud. “That sounds like so much fun. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this myself. Oh yes, please can I go? I would love to tag along with you and your dates. Maybe I can find a dress that would match
all
of your outfits.”

I pull them to the side. “Rule number nine: don’t try to force me to go to the dance when I don’t have a date and you do. I’m fine with rule number five. I support your night out with your very sweet boyfriends.” I look at Natalie, “Although you…”

She finishes my sentence: “Don’t deserve Tyler. I know.”

“Yes, you do,” I say while squeezing her hand.

#

The homecoming game is against Northridge. I want to see that stupid Colby Jones gets his ass handed to him. But I’m not going. I can’t. I walk out of seventh period claiming the stomach flu. I wore a lighter shade of foundation to school and acted sick when anyone asked if I was okay. I can’t witness the Jack and Sidney celebration following the game if we win. There’s a part of me that would also like to see Jack fall on his ass. I’m not sure who I hate more, Jack or Colby. At least Colby doesn’t pretend to be someone he isn’t.

I exit the building and Blake appears out of nowhere. “Hey, a little birdie told me you don’t have a date for homecoming. If you go with me, I’ll cancel my date.” He walks backwards as I head to my car.

Shoot me now. I hate my life. He’s such a jerk.

“Blake, I don’t feel good. I’m going home.” I keep walking.

“We don’t have to go to the game tonight. How ’bout I call you tomorrow? If you feel better, then we can go to the dance. Just wear your dress from last year. You were real pretty in that dress.”

“What color was it?” I ask. He won’t remember. He’s an idiot. Just like my dad.

“A sparkly blue one. Almost matched your eyes. But the dress doesn’t melt me like your eyes do.” Blake slides his finger down my cheek.

Dammit!

#

I shuffle into the house. I toss my keys on the kitchen island, then go to the couch and flop. I can’t sit and I’m hungry so I follow my stomach back to the kitchen. Those leftover chili rellenos are calling my name. I fill up my plate, grab my book, and settle back on the couch. I try to read a book but I can’t focus.

There is a tap on the wall, and then I hear a rustle.

“You’re not fooling anyone.” Alicia’s stands in the hall sporting her blue-and-white cheer gear. She shakes her poms. “When people read, their eyes move. And when people are really sick, the natural pink doesn’t come back when the pale makeup fades. They also don’t eat leftover Mexican food.” She takes the book from my hands and reads the back of it. This should annoy me but it doesn’t. “This looks good. Can I read it when you’re done?”

“Sure,” I say.

What am I doing? Do I like her or do I hate her? Do I trust her or not trust her? Where’s Benny when I need him? I don’t even know if I need either of them, Benny or his daughter. And I had a plan, or I was going to make a plan, to make her leave. Why are these people crowding into my life?

Alicia sits on table in front of the couch. “For the record, I probably wouldn’t go either when I was your age. But knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t let some stupid cheerleader win. And my sources tell me that your dad may not have all the facts.”

Whether or not I trust her or not, she has my attention. I look at my watch.

She smiles, then says, “If you go, can I hitch a ride with you? I’m going to help Lily sell spirit ware. She can bring me home after the game.”

“Okay,” I say.

She moves from the table to the chair and opens my book. I run up the stairs to change.

I take my time getting ready. If Jack and Sidney aren’t an item, I need to look good. My hair is straight and I’m wishing the black was still in my bangs. I pull out my favorite distressed jeans and a Pine Gulch long-sleeve t-shirt, and then I grab my zip-up hoodie and matching knit cap. I throw on a pair of canvas shoes, then fling them off and grab my boots. It’s a little chill out and the lined suede boots will keep my feet warm. I should grab my coat…but then I wouldn’t be showing my colors.

I gallop down the stairs to find Alicia clutching my book. Now she doesn’t want to leave. “I’m driving, so you can keep reading,” I say.

“Yes, please.” Alicia hands me my white ski vest and a backpack full of snacks and a couple of cans of tea. There will be no cap quotes tonight; they don’t allow glass in the stadium. I won’t drink any spiked cocoa either.

Alicia follows me out to my car.

She takes the book into the game. My father would be mortified if he knew she was reading instead of watching the game. This makes me very happy.

She hurries to the spirit store, a small room north of the concessions, where the home team sells their school gear.

“Hey Massie,” Lily hollers, waving me over. When I get to the tiny room, Lily says, “Hand me your ski vest.”

It’s not that cold but I’ll need it. The sun found its way behind the mountains, which means the mercury in the thermometers will drop. I’m thankful Alicia grabbed it.

“Trust me, hand it over.” Lily waves her hand toward herself impatiently.

Alicia stumbles into the small, boxed room and finds a place to rest her butt behind Lily. She opens the book. Her nose almost touches the paper, her eyes dart from left to right, the pages turn themselves, struggling to keep up with the speed-reader holding the hardcopy.

Lily squints at her friend and slouches “Who gave her the book? She won’t look up ’til she’s done. So much for company.”

I raise my hand to show my guilt. Lily hangs a letter jacket over my hand like I’m a coat rack. It’s a white-and-blue letter jacket, but the blue hue doesn’t match true Stallion colors. A Trojan’s head replaces the Stallion.

“He wants you to wear it,” Lily says.

I look at her, confused.

“Jack. He wants you to wear it, for good luck or something,” Lily says.

I turn the coat around and the name Kotenko rolls across the back. “He lettered in his freshman year?”

She smiles and says, “Yep.”

Super-stud football player! A grin escapes. At this point I don’t care who sees it. I squeeze the coat close to my chest and jump. I look like Taylor Swift the first time she was on
Saturday Night Live
. And again, I don’t care.

Lily smiles. “Now hurry up and get your bootie down there.”

I look at Lily, and then at my father’s not-so-bad wife who still has her nose stuffed in my book. “Thank you.”

I skip down the bleachers right after the national anthem. I find my Vianna and Natalie and squeeze in-between them. “Nice jacket,” Blake’s voice hisses behind me.

“Shut up, Blake,” Natalie hisses back.

“Look at Sidney down there, thinking she’s all that. Jack hasn’t looked at her all night. He is, however, looking up at you,” Vianna says. “And look, how cute. He’s waving.”

I smile and wave back. I turn around so he can see that I’m wearing the jacket. When I turn back around Blake decides to step down and put his arm around me. But Jack is now focused on the field. The only one down there seeing this show is Sidney. Her face contorts, her mouth stiffens, her brows narrow, and the shade on her face doesn’t match our school colors. Sidney chucks her poms to the ground and stomps off the field.

We win the game 23–7. I love watching Jack pounce on Colby the first half. The second half, big bad Colby limped off the field. He twisted his ankle one too many times. Colby can’t take the beating. Colby used to be known for putting points on the board. Jack didn’t allow that to happen tonight.

After the game I stop by the spirit room. Lily asks me, “Can you take Jack home for me?”

“Sure.” Like I would say no to this. I’m not crazy.

By the time I make it to my car, Blake is leaning against my door. “Looks like you’re feeling better. I thought you were sick.” He cocks his head to the left.

“Yeah, I am.” I stop a few feet away from him. It’s Blake that I’m sick of.

“If you don’t want to go out with me, tell me,” he says.

“I don’t want to go out with you.” I wait for him to move.

“Wow, don’t you think that’s kind of harsh?” he says, and then he moves so I can get to my car door.

“You can always ask that waitress out again,” I say, waiting for a reply. But of course he doesn’t say anything. “Now,
that’s
harsh.”

Blake throws his hands in the air and walks away.

Good riddance.

I drive my car to the bottom lot. When Jack exits the locker rooms, the crowd roars. He pushes through them to me. He opens the passenger door and asks, “Can I put my bag in the trunk?”

I stare at him. His grin causes instant hypnosis.

“Trunk?”

“Oh, yeah.” I pop the trunk. He tosses the nasty-smelling bag in. I’m going to need a case of air fresheners to get rid of that smell. But for now I’m grateful. It’s like a smelling salt bringing me out of a coma.

Jack slides into the car and kisses my cheek. “I missed you.”

“Whatever.” I don’t look at him. I put the car in gear and drive.

“Don’t be like that. All of this was your fault.” He ruffles his damp hair and pops his baseball cap on his head. He smells sweet and clean.

I pull into The Burrito Bar parking lot and turn off the car. I unlock the doors and turn to open mine.