Secret Girlfriend (9 page)

My mind shifted away. My eyes focused on the strap of Luke’s
duffle bag where it crossed over his chest, his fingers fiddling with the strap
adjuster.

“Amy?”

“He invited me?” I shook my head and looked up at Luke, his
head cocked to study my eyes. “Chris said…”

And then Luke did the best thing ever. He waited. He didn’t talk
or say anything to make it worse or point out that he’d told me so. He just
waited.

But it
did
make it
worse. Here was this guy who, in his own overbearing, all seeing way, had been
nothing but nice to me. Every time something horrible happened he was there to
see it. And he probably thought I deserved every bad thing I got since he
considered me no better than a sad version of a high school home wrecker.

I seriously needed to escape, to get past him and the
humiliation surrounding that spot I stood glued to.

“I have to go,” I said.

“Okay.”

I brushed past him, hefting the binders back into my grip,
wrapping my arms around them and hugging them to my chest, a shield of numbers
and facts.

Without checking, I knew Luke followed just closely enough
to keep up. When I reached the doorway, his hand shot past me. He opened and
held it for me, letting me walk under his arm. It took three tries to get my
locker open, the lock spinning past the right numbers in a blur. I shoved the
binders in and stood there, staring at the dark pit I’d tossed the
all-holy-stats in.

“Art room or home?” Luke was still there, still behind me.
Still not saying “I told you so.”

God, I hated him in that moment. Not only for seeing it
happen
. Not only for being right. But for, after less than a
week, knowing that I was hovering there deciding which safe haven to flee to
and being the one who would get me to either place no questions asked.

I closed the locker and leaned my forehead against the cool
metal.

“Could you take me home, please?”

Luke swept my pack off the floor and threw it over his
shoulder before pivoting to give me enough room to slink past him.

When we got to the truck, he walked me to my door. I hadn’t
realized till that morning how used to him holding it open for me I was getting.
When he handed me my bag and gave me that half-smile thing he did, I felt
lighter and less out of place.
Less… lost.

As we neared the wooden bridge, Luke slowed the truck to a
stop and sat looking at the old thing as the water rushed under it, splashing
the higher water marks.

Eyes still facing forward, he cleared his throat and said,
“You know, I know a place better than your house.”

He looked at me, probably figuring I’d say no. I’d trusted
him this far, I thought maybe I should just keep trusting him. Maybe if he’d
been around to trust two months ago I wouldn’t be hurting like this, with my
heart and stomach wrapped around each other in my throat.

I glanced out my window and studied the edge of the road
where it drifted down to the water. I should have just given in to begin with,
but after thinking about it more than I should have, I nodded.

Instead of rolling over the bridge, he aimed the truck left
down a road that zigzagged along the river. I used to run there all the time
before I started needing more hills, more challenges.

It was the type of neighborhood my family lived in before we
moved to lovely Ridge View and I’d gotten sent off to the RV for school. The
houses all looked different enough that you could tell it wasn’t a new
development and the road most likely
went
somewhere. Kids spilled into the street from front yards and sidewalks. Luke
slowed to wave to several groups of little boys kicking size four soccer balls
around. They shouted and chased after his truck as if he was the older brother
each of them wanted. The guy they all looked up to.

Or maybe that was just how I was feeling at the moment.

At the end of the street, he turned into an older farmhouse
with two swing-sets side by side in the yard.

“What’s this?” I asked

“My house,” he said. “Wait there.”

He hopped out of the truck and made his way around the
front, giving the Chevy’s hood a tap-tap as he went by, to open my door.

I slid under his arm again and felt the air rush past as he
pushed the door shut.

“Thanks.” He grinned using both sides of his mouth this
time. “You never know when my mom’s watching.”

We repeated the ritual at the front door and I began to
wonder why the feminists complained about someone pushing barriers out of the
way and letting you escape the elements first.

“Luke?” A woman’s voice echoed from the rear of the house.
“We’re out back.”

He hung his pack over the end of the banister and headed
through the house, glancing over his shoulder to make sure I followed. The oversized
kitchen had an old butcher-block table and big windows making the room feel
warm and outdoorsy at the same time. Laughter and smoke billowed through the
screen door at the end of the room.

“Uh-oh.”
Luke grinned at me before
grabbing two plates and cups from the cupboard. “I think you’re going to get to
see the boys in action.”

On the back deck, a youngish looking mom and two boys
watched the smallest attack the grill with a spatula. The laughter caught
me,
dragging me forward and making me want to hide behind
Luke at the same time.

Hopefully the whole family didn’t have the
invisibility-seeing gene.

“Thomas, I told you not to use the plastic spatula.” Luke’s
mom took the melted utensil from him and handed him a longer metal one. “
Here.
Use this one.”

Luke snorted and glanced at me. “My mom’s not big into ‘no’
with the youngest.”

He stepped out onto the deck.
“Hey, Mom.
I brought a friend over.”

As one, the four Parkers turned and looked at me. It was
hardly comfortable being studied so intently by so many people. Their gazes
held, seeing me.

Mrs. Parker’s brows lifted. “Oh.”

“This is Amy.”

They were still looking. No one turned back to the sandwich
that was now on fire, sending up smelly smoke signals for a fire extinguisher
to rescue it.

“Amy!
Of course.”
Mrs. Parker moved
our way, both hands outstretched. When she reached us, she moved around Luke
and took my hands in hers.
“The girl who beat an entire
soccer team.”

Um, wow. I glanced at Luke who was definitely not looking at
me.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She dropped one of my hands and led me to the
checker-covered picnic table.

“We’re making grilled cheese, minus the skillet.” Taking the
glasses from Luke, she poured another glass of the sweet tea I was getting so
used to from a large pitcher. “I think one more and they’ll realize you need
something between the sandwich and the grill.”

I glanced toward the boys as Luke pulled out the chair next
to me and joined us.

“Twins?”

“Yup,” he said. “Mom was so worried that I wouldn’t feel
special enough being, you know, just a solo-birth baby, so she had to go and
have Thomas too.”

“Oh, please.” Mrs. Parker gave Luke a friendly swat across
the table. “He knows he’s the perfect one. Just ask his brothers. His record is
the bane of their existence.”

“Amy,” one of the older boys called. “If you could get him
to break curfew, or better yet a law, we’d love you forever.”

The boys all laughed as Luke crossed his hands behind his
head and leaned back. “I can’t be blamed if Mom got it right the first time and
had to double up for perfection after that.”

They must have finally decided they were hungry, because the
two oldest took over. Putting a battered looking cookie sheet on the grill,
they toasted everyone a sandwich while Thomas set the table and brought out
chips and potato salad.

“Can you tell them apart, Mrs. Parker?”

She scooped more potato salad on my plate and smiled.
“Of course.
You will too. It’s easier than you think.”

Luke ignored the chaos around him. “Jared and Justin will be
juniors this year. Jared’s in blue today. Thomas is nine.”

“So, Amy, how’d you beat all those bigger guys at the
running thing?” Thomas asked when his brothers went back to their sandwiches.

I eyed Thomas, and it dawned on me that he was about the age
of the kids I’d taught at art camp this summer, but a little thinner, a little
smaller. No wonder he wanted to know how to beat the bigger guys considering
this crowd.

“I run a lot. When I got serious about it, I worked my way up,
making each run a little harder. The trick is in the training. When you want to
stop, pick a number and run that many steps more. When other people stop, make
sure you pass them.”

Thomas glanced at Luke, sizing him up, and then back at me.
“That sounds hard.”

“Do you want to run?” I asked, trying to figure out if I
could help somehow.

“I don’t know. I want to do something.” He pushed the potato
salad around, watching it leave white streaks on his red plate. “Everyone else
does something.”

“Like what?” I asked, studying each brother.

“Well, Luke plays soccer. Jared and Justin play baseball.”
He glanced at his mom but she waited him out, letting him decide for himself.
“I couldn’t breathe when I was little, but the doctor said I can do stuff now.”

Jared and Justin, who had been in their own nonsensical
conversation at the end of the table chimed in with “of course you can” and
“especially if it’s baseball” and then went back to their discussion which
seemed to focus on pitchers’ weights versus their fast ball speed. Luke leaned
over and bumped Thomas shoulder to shoulder in what I could only assume is
guy-speak for “I’m here for you” and waited.

Wow. Families were complicated. All these people involved in
your life every day.
Watching you.
Hearing
you.
Seeing
you.

It seemed complicated…
Almost as
complicated as
not
seeing someone.
Conversations with my dad—in the tiny event that one happened—were a practice
in not saying anything upsetting. The biggest problem was I had no idea what
“upsetting” ever was.

“Is running what you do, Amy?” Thomas asked.

“And she paints.”

All the blood rushed from my head leaving me dizzy. I
flattened my hands on the table on either side of my plate. I’d never shown my
work to anyone but Mrs. Cleary and just the idea was enough to make me pitch
over backwards. Trust
me,
college apps for art school
were a bit of a challenge without a portfolio.

Luke glanced down at my hand stretched out tight, resting
next to his, and his gaze rose to my face. “She’s really good.”

I closed my eyes, waiting for… something. I don’t know what.
Sharing things, showing myself, had never been easy. Then, as I was left more
and more to myself it became
down right
hard. But, as
I sat there waiting, nothing happened. No one gasped or pointed or laughed. And
then I realized what he’d said and I opened my eyes.

“How do you know?” I asked, forcing my hands to uncurl and
relax. “You didn’t see my stuff.”

“Oh. I might have looked around a little while you packed
up. There might have been a couple of things sitting out with your name on
them.” His ears flushed pink and I had to wonder if the heat was getting to him
or he was blushing. “And they were. Good, I mean.”

We sat there, him seeing me and me finally starting to see
him when his mother slapped the table.

“This is perfect.” Mrs. Parker nearly leapt up. “Amy, can
you come in the house and tell me which colors go with the carpet? We don’t
want to tear it up so I need to pick a new sofa covering and I have a horrible
eye for these things.”

Before I knew what had happened, I was in the Parker’s
oversized living room struggling to see the rug through the piles of books,
games, toys, and sporting equipment I couldn’t even identify. Mrs. Parker moved
things around, opening shades and turning on lights. She showed me all sorts of
ideas weighing each one against the damage four boys—five if she counted her
husband—could do.

The afternoon started to slip by without me noticing, when a
rap came on the back window.

“Mom!
We need Amy!” Thomas shouted.
“She’s going to be on my Scrabble team!”

Chapter 12

I blinked against the bright sunshine as I stepped out onto
the porch where a mini-Parker waited for me.

“You can call me Tom.”

“What?” Luke stopped, his hands going to his hips as he
stared down at his littlest brother. “You won’t let any of us call you Tom.”

Tom shrugged. “I like Amy.”

He tipped that tiny smile up at me and I thought for a
moment how great it would be to have little brothers. Catching the looks from
the rest of the guys, I amended that to
one
little brother.

“She’s so much better than Katie,” Tom finished.

Luke’s smile slipped away. Laying a hand on Tom’s shoulder,
he turned his full attention on the youngest Parker.

“Buddy, walk with me over to the tire swing.” Luke led Tom
away, the little guy looking worried, glancing over his shoulder as they went.

“Heads up, Amy!”

I turned in time to catch the football Jared threw at me, a
helpful brotherly distraction if I’d ever seen one.
Which I
hadn’t but, whatever.

 
Fumbling to get
a good hold on it, I walked it back to him instead of humiliating myself with a
three-foot short toss. Jared avoided my gaze as I approached and took the ball.
If awkward were a paint, he’d be covered in it.

Might as well get it over with.

“Who’s Katie?”

Jared glanced at Justin, the two of them looking pained in a
weird, identical way.

“It doesn’t matter, you know,” I said, trying to put them at
ease. Instead, they just looked more worried.

Jared rolled his neck, looking at the sky as he spoke.
“Katie was the girl Luke was kind of seeing a little before we moved here.”

Justin nodded… whether in agreement of the facts or the
wording, who knows? Both stood there looking behind me every so often, letting
the moment draw out, waiting for me to say something.
Jared
staring at the clouds, Justin at his feet.

“I’m kind of seeing someone,” I finally said when the
comfort level didn’t seem to be heading back in the right direction.

Jared’s head whipped down and he looked at me again fully…
that deep stare his brother did so often.
“Really?”

“Yeah,” I said, as my day ripped back over me.

In that flash of a moment, I saw Chris driving away with
Cheryl, leaving me
rideless
at school. Luke’s face as
he tried to mask his pity when Ben mentioned the party and my missing it. But
then I saw Chris as he leaned in to brush his lips across mine.

Luke was wrong. There had to be a good reason Chris told Ben
I couldn’t go to the party. He probably thought about how much I hate crowds.
How much easier it was for us to just hang out alone.

Coming here had been a much better idea than going home to
think it all over by myself. But now that’s where I needed to be.

“Tell Luke not to worry about it. I need to get my run in.
And I have stuff to do.”

I headed toward the house, raising my hand in farewell to Luke
and Tom as I hit the back porch steps. Justin leapt all three in one.

“Amy, stop. Jared was right. It wasn’t anything serious with
Katie. Luke kind of got sucked into seeing her and he didn’t know how to escape
without hurting her feelings. Then we were moving so he let it play out.”

His words stopped me halfway across the deck.

I couldn’t believe Luke would toy with some poor girl like
that. That was horrible. Guys were always looking for the easy out. Looking for
what’s best for them. Did he measure her feelings for him as they hung out
knowing it would be a hard emotional break when he left? The only thing in that
plan’s favor was Luke didn’t have to be the bad guy.

“Listen.” I could hear the annoyance slipping into my voice
and tried to adjust. It wasn’t Justin’s fault his brother turned out to be a
typical guy. “Thanks and all. I know you’re trying to make something look
better than it is. And while I think that’s a crappy way to deal with a girl’s
feelings, it doesn’t matter. I told you, I’m kind of seeing someone. Luke and I
are just friends.”

“I swear —”

I put my hand on his arm to stop him. “Honestly, Justin. And
this was just a reminder that I had stuff happen today that I have to take care
of. Tell Luke I’ll see him at tryouts.”

I
peeked
my head in the living room
as I went by. “Thank you for lunch, Mrs. Parker. I really appreciated being
included.”

“Are you leaving?” Mrs. Parker dropped a pillow and came
toward me. “We loved having you here. Come back as often as you like.”

Before I knew it, I was wrapped in a warm mom-hug and
counting the seconds until she let go, afraid this would be the final straw
that had me in tears after everything else.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, trying to remain polite. I rushed
through the front door, hoping Tom still held Luke in Twenty Question Land.

I made it further than I should have, considering Luke and
those manners—and that stubborn streak. I was almost to the little bridge when
I heard the truck behind me and sped up as if making it across would stop him
from coming.

Luke pulled up beside me, the rev of the old engine blurring
out his words. “Amy! Get in the truck.”

“I’m almost home. I’m getting my run in.”

“You aren’t getting your run in. You’re running away. Get in
the damn truck.”

My head whipped up, the shock of hearing Mr. Manners curse
throwing off my stride and tripping me up. My toe caught the edge of the bridge
and before I knew it, I was face down, my hands bleeding and splinter-kissed.

I rolled to sit, braced my back against the bridge’s truss,
my head bumping the bottom of the rail. Dirt and pebbles covered my palms
hiding the damage.

“Amy?” Luke squatted in front of me, the truck idling behind
him.

I glanced up at him, angry, annoyed, sad, and thankful all
swirled into one.

“Come on,” he said, wrapping his hand around my wrist and
pulling me to my feet. “Now will you let me take you home?”

I let him tuck me into the pickup and buckle me in. Leaning
my head against the cool glass, I watched the trees go by, wondering how I
could have spent so much time in this truck in the last couple of days. In
front of the cottage, Luke turned the engine off and I waited for him to come
around and open my door, for once glad of the manners his mom had driven into
him.

He grabbed my bag off the floor and carried it with him to
the front door.

“It’s unlocked.”

He turned the knob as though he didn’t believe me. “You come
home at night to a dark, empty, secluded,
unlocked
house?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

He shook his head and found his way to the kitchen. Pushing
me into a chair, he filled a bowl with warm soapy water. The bowl made a heavy
thud-swash sound as he set it down on the table with the dishtowel, making me
feel like a guest in my own home. With a light touch, he took my left hand in his
and began tugging the pebbles out.

The moment was so still—so oddly intimate—and I hoped that
now, with just the two of us, I could make him understand.

“It isn’t what you think,” I said.
“The
Chris stuff.”

I tried to bite back the words, angry at feeling the need to
defend my actions. Especially to someone who in all likelihood had a girl
somewhere else who still considered herself
taken.

He nodded. Not in agreement, just a general nod.

And didn’t that just tick me off?

“It isn’t. You just have this really bad opinion of him.” I
flinched as he dug a rock out of my palm. “He isn’t always that competitive guy
you see.”

I waited for Luke to raise his head, to look at me, even if
the challenge in his eyes wasn’t one I wanted to face. He just kept digging things
that belonged in nature—not in skin—out of my hand.

“And, I mean, who are you to judge when you’ve left some
girl thinking she has a boyfriend? Your brothers told me you didn’t have the
guts to break it off with her.”

The towel swept over my hand again as he asked, “Is that
what you think Chris is doing? Not telling you you’re not his girlfriend?”

How did he do that? How did he turn everything back on me,
back to me? Couldn’t he see I was being Take Control Girl and asking the
questions here? And anyway, what did I care about Luke and his
maybe-girlfriend?
Fine.

Before I knew it, the words were pouring out, justifying,
answering.

“When I was eleven, we’d just moved here and things were…
things were bad. And Brian Murphy picked on me all the time. Chris stood up for
me when I needed a friend.
When no one else would.
He
was… nice.”

There was no way I was going to tell him how
un-
nice everyone—everything—else had
been.

Luke’s head was lowered, the dark lashes closed in on his
eyes, but I could have sworn he rolled them. I’d recognize my signature move
anywhere.

“I know he’s gotten a little self-centered, but you can’t
tell me a bad guy would have done that. And then we worked together this summer
at the
Rec
Center, and I thought ‘this is my chance
for him to see me again.’ And he did.”

My skin heated in an all over blush and I wondered if my
hand warmed in Luke’s. And still he didn’t look up. He carefully swept the damp
towel back and forth over my palm, clearing away dirt that was no longer there.

I wanted to stop talking.
To keep it all
to myself.
But I needed this one person to understand.
This person who saw me when I was invisible, before I morphed into
this hazy, nearly discernible self.

“The more time I spent around him, the more attention he
gave me until it was just the two of us each night talking. It was his idea for
me to be the stats girl so we could keep hanging out.”

Luke dipped the rag in the bowl and rung it out before
attacking the dirt on my other hand.

“He has this plan—”

Luke snorted. The first thing he’d said, and it wasn’t even
a word.

“He does.” I wasn’t stopping now. I couldn’t stop. “It’s a
good plan. To get into Monroe State, he needs to be really well rounded since
he’s not top of the class—
an alum
basically made him a
list. So he needs to win things like Homecoming king and stuff. And he knew
he’d have to have the right girlfriend to do that.”

I looked away, down at the floor and thought about how
not
the right girlfriend I was for that.

“And so, he’s kind of seeing Cheryl for, like, you know, the
proper image. Like JFK marrying Jackie.”

Luke stood so quickly he knocked the chair over backward. He
stared long and hard into my eyes, that same wordless searching look he’d given
me the first day—only anger washed over me this time. And then he threw down
the rag. It hit the edge of the bowl and splashed water over the side.

“He isn’t good for you. He’s using you for something and
you’re letting him. I don’t care what he did in fifth grade. He’s an ass. And
you’re a blind fool.”

Before I could say anything, Luke kicked the chair out of
his way and stormed out of the house, slamming the front door as he went. I
waited, listening to the sound of his truck as it sped down the drive, and knew
that maybe sharing the story wasn’t the best idea I’d had that day.

# # #

As I sat staring at the door that had fallen shut behind
Luke, my phone text sounded.

Sorry about today.
Lunch was dull without you. See you tomorrow.

I wondered if that was supposed to make me feel better. I
wasn’t invited to a
dull
party.

I hit my speed dial hoping I’d finally be able to get some
Rachel time on the phone.

“You’ve reached the middle of nowhere. Leave a message after
the beep.”

BEEP.

“Where are you?
Seriously-seriously.”
I looked down at my wrapped hands. “Luke and I had this huge fight about Chris
and he has this girlfriend that he didn’t even bother to break up with before
he moved here—Luke not Chris—and he—Luke—said I’m a fool and I don’t know what
to do because he feels the same way about Chris that you do and now he said
he’s using me—Chris not Luke—and you aren’t here and my dad is MIA and tryouts
are going really badly. I think they’re going to kill each other and Coach said
that if I—”

BEEP

 
“Your message
has exceeded the maximum time. To re-record, press one.”

“
Arg
!”
I
threw the phone down, almost as disgusted at myself as the cell service and its
stupid time limits.

I was tempted to pick up the phone again just so I could throw
it across the room, but I’d either break it or a window with my luck. Instead,
I threw myself across my bed and did my best not to become a pouty-pouting
girl. But everything was just… too much.

Luke and his pushy, bossy, all-seeing
ways.
Chris and his not so all-seeing density.
The run, the argument, the little Parkers.
But the thing
that kept running through my head every time I thought of Luke storming out on
me, the thing that had me lying on my bed wanting to cry, was that warm, safe
mom-hug from Mrs. Parker.

Sometimes a girl just wanted her mom.