Through Indigo's Eyes (14 page)

The minutes ticked by as I lay staring at the clock, waiting for John to call. Finally, at 5:30, just an hour and a half before the game was supposed to start, the phone rang and it was my two rings. I immediately picked it up, holding my breath. It had to be him.

The sound of his smooth, sleek voice made me sink into my mattress. For so long I had dreamed of getting my first phone call from John, and now here I was talking to him, arranging our night. I pulled my legs up and sat cross-legged on my bed, pressing the phone against my ear. I loved how his voice sounded so deep and sexy on the other end. We didn't talk long, and the conversation ended with John saying he would pick me up. I had never had a guy pick me up at my house for a date before. After I hung up, I hopped off my bed.

Then I started to jump up and down. I stuck on my Police CD and found the fastest song. I danced around my room, singing into my pretend microphone.

Halfway through the song, I stopped. “What am I going to wear?” I rushed to my closet.

“What about this pink top?” I took it off its hanger and threw it on the bed. “No. It's too … blasé.” Then I pulled out a blue pull-over-type top. “The arena might be cold. This one could work.”

I kept pulling and tossing clothes on my bed. I must have tried on clothes for 20 minutes. In between outfits, I danced and sang, dressed in just my underwear. Finally, I decided on the pink top, the first one I had picked. It wasn't blasé; it just needed some accessories. Lacey would have accessories.

I grabbed for my phone without thinking. Then as quickly as I picked it up, I put it back in its cradle.

“Not tonight. You will not think of her tonight.”

Don't worry. Things with Lacey will work out when they are supposed to
. It was the man's voice again, so soft and kind.

“Who are you?”

When you're ready, you will find out
.

 

Chapter Eight

When I was finally dressed to go to the game, I took one last glance in the mirror. I looked okay. My new purple eye shadow seemed to highlight the blue in my eyes. And for once, my straight hair had curled the way I wanted it to. Now, to get to the kitchen before John rang the doorbell. I did
not
want my parents opening the door. I was almost to the kitchen when I saw them in the dining room, peeking out the window. No way! They
were
waiting for the doorbell. At least Dad had changed out of his work suit and was wearing jeans and some type of shirt, and Mom wasn't wearing her nurse scrubs.

I tiptoed up behind them and screamed, “Boo!”

My mother immediately put her hand to her chest, and my dad jumped practically a foot into the air.

I laughed. “Scared ya.”

“Indie!” screeched my mother. “You could have given us both a heart attack.”

Just then the doorbell rang, and I ran to the front door. When I opened the door, John looked as cool as he did at school, only he had made a wardrobe adjustment. He had ditched his flip-flops in favor of a pair of cheap-looking, generic high-top runners. I bit my lip, trying to contain my laughter.

Then my parents walked out of the kitchen together, looking a bit stiff and predictable. John stuck out his hand to my mom first. “Pleased to meet you.” His line sounded extremely rehearsed. Then he did the same with my dad, only their handshake lasted longer. My dad looked like he had a viselike grip on John's hand.

“So do you think the Sixty-Seven's will win tonight?” My dad sounded so corny.

“It will be a good game,” replied John. “Two top teams.”

“We should get going,” I said.

My dad ignored me. “Are you a Senators fan as well?”

“Dad,” I said, slightly exasperated, “what is this, like, twenty questions or something?”

John turned to me and gave me a funny little lopsided but sad smile. “It's okay, Indie. I don't mind.”

Just then to make things worse Brian burst through the front door with energy to burn.

“Hey,” he said when he saw our group huddled in the hallway. “What gives?”

“John,” I said, “this is my brother, Brian. Brian, this is my friend John.

Where my dad's handshake was firm but stable, Brian's looked like he was some real-estate agent desperate to close a deal but making all the wrong moves. Brian pumped John's hand so hard, I thought John's arm might fly out of its socket. “So,
John
, is that your wreck outside?” Brian winked at me.

“We better head out,” I said, lowering my head. This was
so
embarrassing.

John took my cue. “Well, it was nice to meet you.”

“You from Newfoundland?” my dad asked. “You have a bit of an accent.”

“Um, yeah, sort of. I spent my first few years there.”

“Come on,” I said, tugging on his arm.

Outside, I could hardly look at John—that is, until we were in his “wreck” of a car and he lifted one side of his mouth in a funny little smirk.

“What?” I asked.

“You have that perfect Hallmark family.”

“Shut up.” I playfully punched his arm, and he grabbed my hand. The tips of his fingers ignited my skin, zapped me into feeling alive. The feeling seemed to spread quickly through my entire body. If he only knew who I really was, he wouldn't think we were so perfect.

“You're lucky to have such a great family.” He squeezed my fingers before he started the car engine and drove away from my house, his car rattling and clanging.

The Civic Arena was located on Bank Street but miles away from downtown and close to my house, so it hardly took any time to get there. John parked on the street, and we walked to the arena. He didn't take my hand, and it was so baffling. As we entered the arena, the energy from the crowd milling around the concourse hit me square in the face, giving me a giddy, bubbly feeling.

We found our seats and sat down, and immediately our thighs touched; every nerve in my body prickled and twitched. Neither one of us did anything to break the connection.

While I was immersed in how I felt about our legs touching and how he made my body react, John looked at the ice and didn't speak to me. My mind raced with lustful thoughts of us standing alone in the middle of some snow-covered field and of him kissing me. We were the only ones in the field, and the only light was from the sliver of the new moon.

Suddenly, I sensed someone staring at me. I scanned the crowd and spotted Lacey, sitting with some of the other hockey players' girlfriends. I lifted my hand to wave, but she just swiveled her head and looked away. Who cared about her tonight, anyway, when I was at the game with John? My heart tightened.

Who was I kidding?

Then I felt John move, and our shoulders touched. I needed to forget about Lacey for tonight. Energy buzzed around us from the fans chatting, eating popcorn and hot dogs, drinking beer. I absorbed the energy and jiggled my leg. The lights dimmed when the referees, in their black and white zebra shirts, made their entrance, and the crowd booed. I joined in. After three laps, the low voice of the announcer belted out from the speakers, announcing the teams.

One by one, hockey players soared onto the ice, flying with grace and speed. They announced the first line, and when Burke's name came over the speakers, I searched for Lacey again. Facing forward, staring at Burke, she obviously wasn't going to acknowledge me.

Then a 12-year-old girl, a budding star with a phenomenal voice, sang “O Canada!” I almost cried. I hid my face from John, so he couldn't see the tears threatening to spill. What was wrong with me? One minute I was giddy, and the next I was ready to cry. Crowds made me lose all sense of my emotions, and I could go from high to low in a matter of minutes. I absorbed everyone's energy, just like I did at parties.

The puck dropped. I watched the players rush up and down the ice, chasing the small black round thing, crashing bodies against the boards. Then suddenly big purple lights flashed in front of my eyes, and I saw the numbers 4 and 1 loud and clear.

I blurted out, “We're going to win four to one.”

John took his eyes off the game for a second and gave me a funny look. “You're predicting?”

Caught in the moment, I replied, “Yup!”

“Nah,” he replied back. “It'll be two to one. The other team is good, too, first in the league, and we have yet to beat them. But I have faith that tonight we will win by one goal.”

I stuck out my hand. “Bet ya ten bucks: four to one.” I knew I was being a total brat, but I was having fun.

Then the crowd started to cheer, and we both jumped to our feet to get in on the action. The crowd and the energy electrified me, almost made me feel as if I were high. I was absorbing everything, from the fluorescent lights to the loud cheers to the bursting crowd, and the energy from everyone and everything soaked my skin and made every nerve in my body spark.

At the end of the first period, the score was 2 to 1.

John and I left our seats to grab some snacks. Usually my visions were a pain and I hated them, but tonight I was having some fun with it all.

“One more goal, and
you lose the bet
,” I sang my words as we hiked up the stairs.

Once on the concourse, we jostled the crowd, and I followed John's lead—that is, until we came into the opening and I saw Lacey standing by herself, drinking a soda pop.

She threw her cup in the trash just as we walked by.

“Hey, John,” I said, “I'm going to say hi to Lacey. I'll be out in a sec.”

He nodded, and I headed over to Lacey. “Hi, Lacey,” I said. “Burke's playing well, eh?”

She nodded—kind of curtly, though—and said, “Yeah. Not that you would care.” She paused for a second. Then she said, “It sure didn't take you long to replace me.”

I frowned. “I didn't replace you.”

“And after all I did for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on, Indie. I got you to all the cool parties. You would never have been invited if it wasn't for me persuading everyone. Some gratitude.”

“I've always thanked you for everything.”

“Whatever.” She put up her perfectly manicured hand, palm facing me, to tell me the conversation was over. Then she turned and walked away.

As I stepped outside, pulling out my cigarettes, I couldn't help wonder what
that
conversation had really been about. Had I not shown enough gratitude when we were friends? Had I been a bad friend? Did she honestly think I was hanging out with John to make her mad?

For the rest of the game, I tried not to let my conversation with Lacey ruin my night. And for the most part, I was successful, but that was because John was beside me. His intense interest in the sport made me realize that there was a lot about him I still didn't know. He was starting to appear a lot more complex than I'd first imagined. I mean, who would have thought such a loner, who liked to spout off about social responsibilities and read crazy spiritual books, would also like a wildly popular team sport that was sometimes a little rough? There was definitely more to him.

In the third period, the score was 3 to 1. Suddenly Burke got a breakaway. The crowd went nuts. Everyone stood and screamed and cheered. He skillfully stickhandled down the ice and, when he was close to the goalie, rifled off a shot that sailed into the top corner of the net. The crowd exploded. I looked at the score clock: 4 to 1.

“I bet Amber liked that,” said John.

“Amber? You mean Lacey.”

John shrugged. “He's got them both hooked.”

I squinted as I looked at him. “And you think that's okay?” I asked.

“I didn't say that.”

I couldn't help but glance at Lacey. She was on her feet, cheering for Burke and high-fiving the other hockey girlfriends. Among them, she ranked highest; she was the girlfriend of the star who would get drafted and perhaps one day play in the NHL. But at what expense?

The buzzer sounded, ending the game. I stuck out my hand and grinned. “You owe me ten bucks.” Then I did a little dance.

He gave me a slow, quirky smile.

I held up my hands. “My stars aligned. What can I say?”

“I thought you didn't believe in that stuff.”

I looked at my watch. “It's only nine thirty. Let's go to Zoe's.”

Once in the car, John suddenly said he had to go home and take care of something. I was so full of energy that I really wanted to go to the party. If I went home, I would just pace in my room or bounce up and down on my bed.

But no go. I couldn't convince John to go to the party, and I didn't want to ask him to drop me off. I just didn't feel as if I should ditch him after we'd been on a date. Zoe would understand. He took me straight home.

Parked in front of my house, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, the noise bouncing off the car's tin roof. I had no idea what he was thinking.

“I wonder if Cayce could have done that,” he finally said.