Dealing with Blue Page 12

  Inside, the lights dimmed to black, and vibrating sounds blared out the speakers as previews poured across the screen in a blur of color and motion. J.J. quickly passed Ron, sitting alone with his box of Red Vines, and slid into the seat beside Suzy. He drew in a long ragged breath, then settled back, digging into the tub of popcorn on her lap. He shoveled it into his mouth, trying to find his movie mojo. But in the back of his mind a clawing thought scratched at his cranium.

  He’d kissed Gemma, then bolted right at a critical moment. Hell, she might have even groveled if he’d bothered to stick around. The checkered flag was right there in sight, the final lap to Gemma, his prize. He’d been about to win his own game, yet he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He tapped the rewind button on his thoughts to review what event, what decision led him to this moment.

  Out of the dark, a delicate hand touched his arm, and he turned to face Suzy. Her eyes were wide and searching.

  “How’d it go?” she whispered.

  Suddenly, his world crumbled into dust beneath him, and it left him standing on a pointy pinnacle. Which direction should he fall? What if he made the wrong decision…what then? Gemma wanted to pick up where they’d left off, as if breaking up were a minor hiccup. Suzy sat beside him with her eyebrows gently arced above her dark framed glasses, something he hadn’t noticed until now. Delicate, copper eyebrows…

  “Not so good,” he croaked and stuffed a handful of popcorn behind his teeth.

  Her hand lifted to his jaw, and she easily drew his face to meet hers. She kissed his lips softly. No tongue, no mashing, just a simple, soft peck leaving him…in shock and breathless. He inhaled sharply and sucked half-chewed popcorn into his windpipe. The tender moment quickly turned into a sputter-fest as he tried to swallow. He coughed violently into his fist, and a few errant chunks flew out of his mouth.

  “Attractive,” Suzy whispered, then pressed her lips together to smother a laugh.

  “What was that for?” J.J. cleared his throat while performing a brisk popcorn-sweep down his jaw. “I wasn’t even ready.” Man, their first kiss, and he’d spewed masticated corn all over himself. Not cool.

  “You asked, right?” She shrugged, and damned if she didn’t smile. He pushed the arm rest out of the way and leaned toward her ear.

  “Yeah.” He rumbled into her hair. “But not when I have a mouthful of popcorn. I could have choked to death.”

  “Hopefully, Gemma knows the Heimlich,” she murmured before stuffing her mouth with more buttery goodness. She puffed out her cheeks and went cross-eyed while he chuckled uncomfortably and waited for it to erupt out of her mouth, but, then…

  She licked her lips. He blinked. His tongue swept over his own, and he tasted butter, salt, and her sweet lip gloss. It was magically delicious.

  He eased his arm across her shoulders, feeling punch-drunk, and tilted his head to rest on the back of the chair. With heavy lids, he turned away to face the big screen as fireballs and car chases advertised the upcoming summer movies. But instead of surrendering to the flat fantasy world, he was stuck in this one. With the tip of his tongue, he tentatively searched his bottom lip for more of her kiss. What was it about Little Suzy Blue? Whenever she got close, he lost his marbles.

  After the movie, Suzy puttered a mile below the speed limit all the way home, and he didn’t even care. He helped her into her tower, and she closed her window with a smile. When the blinds unfurled, he stared at them, feeling lost even though he was practically in his own backyard.

  A few moments later, J.J. turned and walked back to his house. Will still hadn’t reached out to him, and he’d had plenty of time to thaw. J.J. was done waiting and pulled out his phone. It was time to make things right, to officially apologize to his buddy.

  JJ: Still sulking?

  WILL: Birddog.

  JJ: You were drunk, and I didn’t take you seriously. I’m sorry, man. I mean it.

  WILL: ur sneaking around like Gonad. Lv Blue alone.

  JJ: Everything’s on the up and up. I like her, so I can’t.

  WILL: Can I punch u in the face?

  JJ: Yes, please.

  GEMMA: What happened tonight?

  GEMMA: Are you there?

  GEMMA: This whole thing is so messed up. Please call me!

  Chapter 12: The Smile Effect

  Suzy stared at the heart doodle on her notebook and shook her head. She shouldn’t have kissed J.J. at the theater. Everything changed after that and not in a good way. The week that followed seemed like an awkward hat dance. He was always around but going in one direction, while she went in the other. He would do something sweet, like hook his pinkie in hers as they walked to class, casual and easy, and it would knock a block out of her wall.

  Normally, it would take her an hour to plaster the holes in her defenses. She’d slip into English class and talk herself down. It’s only pretend, Suz. La la la. But now it was taking her a full day to recover. It was getting harder and harder to bounce back.

  Sometimes he wouldn’t touch her at all but watch her with a wary look. Did he even like her? He was always there, and so they’d dance some more. It was confusing and awkward and torturous.

  And addictive. And fun.

  Every morning her insides twisted with hot and cold anticipation.

  Suddenly, she blinked up at J.J., her pen poised over the scribbles in her notebook. His hair stood up in that tousled, I-just-parked-my-hang-glider kind of way. He leaned down and tapped his long fingers on her desk.

  “Hey, Suzy. Let’s go.”

  She pulled her glasses off. Class was over? She hadn’t even heard the bell. Will was even standing, his thumbs hooked in his belt loops.

  “I must have zoned out,” she said and slid her books into her backpack. She dropped the case with her glasses into the side pocket, and stood. J.J. took her bag and slung it over his shoulder on top of his own. Was he going to carry it?

  Uh, oh…he was being sweet again.

  “I’ve got it. I packed it in. I can pack it out.” Suzy reached for it, but J.J. swung his shoulder back.

  “Now what kind of boyfriend would I be, huh?” J.J. said with his brow raised.

  “The kind from this century,” Will muttered while feigning to pick lint off his faded black tee.

  “C’mon, man. Enough already.” J.J. held out his palm. “Just go with it, alright?” He clutched Suzy’s hand and marched her out of the room.

  He led her down the hallway, weaving through the hubbub, his fingers still laced through hers. He tugged her along without stopping, and she followed like some kind of sheep, until they pushed through the double doors to the outside.

  “Hey! I’m not a rag doll, okay?” Suzy yelled at the back of his head while trying to pull her hand free, put the skids on, and keep the flats on her feet, all at the same time. “I’m in charge of my body, and I don’t appreciate—”

  “Sorry.” J.J. slowed, letting her hand go to rake his hair back. “Gemma was waiting for me, and with Will…never mind. I just wanted to get out of there. I didn’t want to talk to either of ‘em anyway.”

  “I thought that was the whole point? She gets jealous, wants you back, and we break up. Right?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “You don’t know?”

  “Uh…I mean the timing.” He rubbed his neck. “I wasn’t feeling it. I’m not ready.”

  “Timing…what? What does that have to do with her pleading for your undying affections?” Suzy cupped her cheeks and batted her eyelashes while cranking out some southern belle. “Oh, J.J., how can I survive without you? My sweet, sweet—” She dropped her hands and stepped out of character mode. “What does J.J. stand for anyway?”

  “James Jefferson.” He calmly folded his arms across his chest and watched her.

  “Oh, James,” Suzy said breathlessly. Who knew she had such a knack for impersonations? She would’ve nailed it, if Gemma were from the deep south. “I’m sorry I’m such a vile twit with no real intel
ligence. Please…” She swept her arm over her face, with elbow to eyes and nose to the sky. “Take me back, you big steaming hunk. I’m totally yours!”

  “Wow,” J.J. murmured and shook his finger at her. “See? This’s why I like you.”

  Suzy blinked like she’d been clocked with a bag of flour. “You…like me?”

  “It’s way more fun hanging out with you than with Gemma.”

  “Right.” Suzy laughed drily. Those two had broken up, so anyone would be more fun than Gemma right now. She ran through her mental mantra—it’s pretend…it’s faux…it’s fake. La, la, la—but it wasn’t working. She fell into step beside him as they headed toward Badger Court. He reached into his front pocket and pulled out his vibrating phone. His flash of good humor faltered.

  “It’s Gemma,” he said and gave Suzy a pained look. “I guess I should take it.” He stood there a moment, looking blank, then nodded like he’d just convinced himself it was the right thing to do. He held out her backpack, and after she unhooked it from his fingers, he peeled off to the side of the road with his phone up to his ear.

  Suzy turned away.

  You…like me? She could slap herself. Last Tuesday at the theater, she’d mustered courage out of somewhere and kissed him on the lips. They were soft and perfect, and she almost pushed for more. He’d asked for it, so she’d puckered up, and now she was confused about her fake feelings because they seemed real. They were sweet and gooey, sticky and…troubling.

  Oh, God. What was she doing to herself? She crossed the street, practically sagging under the weight of rejection. He didn’t really expect her to wait for him, did he? No, he’d returned her backpack. It was probably a private conversation anyway. A perfect time to escape since she didn’t want to hear him growling Gemma’s name and glowing with über-happiness. Sick.

  Think about Charlie with his thick, dark hair, deep voice, and those buttoned-up shirts that hid things like abs of steel or maybe even a scar. He was quiet and normal…that was her type. And he’d been a hair’s width away from asking her to prom a couple weeks ago at the Butterhorn. But J.J. had showed up and nixed it.

  She should have said no to J.J.’s deal.

  Suzy strode into Badger Court and stopped to stare at the front of #17, a fortress of pulled curtains, tin siding, closed windows and blocked doors. It didn’t contain precious memories, familial love, comfort, or the sweet aroma of home cooking. No, it held…pasta, freaky cheese powder and ice-cold hotdogs. She outlined the tip of her thumbnail, searching for a rough edge to pick as she studied the faded “Please use other door” sign.

  No, she was thankful for J.J and his deal. Because of him, she’d pretend her way right into a driver’s license. She’d been searching the classifieds, and there were a couple old cars out there with her name on ‘em. With the extra shifts at the Butterhorn, she was sure to have enough money to buy her own wheels, her own bucket of bolts, her own slice of freedom.

  Suzy meandered around to the back and unlocked the door. She stepped into the mudroom and scanned the area, playing Spot the Difference. The crate of dirty flower pots resting against a pile of sheets…same. The curio cabinet hanging on the wall, stocked with salt and pepper shakers, nothing new there.

  She nudged her mom’s shoe to the side, dropped her backpack on the floor, and—what was that smell? Suzy flapped a hand under her nose. Burned Cheerios? Sour cheese? What died?

  Dried up food peppered the frying pan still sitting on the stove, right next to a short stack of coupons. So Mom’s cooking the mail now? Paper plus coil burner equaled disgusting stench and obvious danger. Suzy waved her hand over the stove. It was cool, thank God. If this place went up in smoke, Suzy would be the only one to get out alive. She could dive out her bedroom window. What could her mom do? If the fire started in the kitchen, she’d spend too much time digging her way out.

  A horrible way to go since Mom’s entire family died that way. Mom’d been fresh out of high school when her parents had been warned of a huge forest fire. They’d refused to leave in time, and Mom had lost everything: her mom, her dad, her little brother, a black-and-white cat named Harry, family photographs, hardbound books, on down to her graduation tassel and dental floss. All of it cooked and charred. Ash had been the only thing left of her mom’s childhood.

  So why wasn’t she more careful about fire hazards and safety?

  Suzy sniffed. Something stunk in here, bad!

  She turned to the sink of standing water where a sponge floated. Off to the side was a bowl of soggy noodles. Gross. Mom must have come home for lunch and left everything. Suzy pulled her sleeve back and dipped her hand in the cold water to clear the plug. The drain gurgled as it sucked air. What a mess and rude, too. Mom wasn’t the only one living here. Hello, I’m your daughter, roommate, other human being.

  She sniffed again and scrunched up her nose. Something was very rotten. She pulled a paper grocery bag off the counter and reached for the garbage disposal switch, then glanced around, confused, as dried noodles rained down, pitter-pattering onto the floor. A closer inspection showed a chewed hole in the corner, and black, rice-sized droppings on the back counter. She flung the brown bag at the stove.

  Rats!

  With wide eyes, she held her dirty hands out in front of her. Contaminated rat hands! Her heart zinged with a burst of adrenaline, and her stomach folded in on itself, like she might retch, but instead, she calmly stepped to the greasy-lined sink.

  Rats in the house.

  Oh, God.

  With a full-body shiver and five pumps of liquid soap, she spazzed out and scrubbed her palms vigorously with the ends of her fingers. If only she had fingernails!

  The stench clawed at her mind. Spoiled broccoli? Old chicken fat? Suzy rinsed the slick bubbles off and kicked the cupboard door with her toe for the dish towel hanging inside. The door bounced open and a cloud of rotting meat and death burped into her face. Suzy spun away and gagged.

  After a couple deep breaths into her lavender-scented hands, she turned back to the cupboard: dish soap, scrub brushes, a new package of toilet paper—why was TP stored under the kitchen sink?—a half-chewed box of rat bait, and the garbage can. She covered her nose and pulled the can out, ready to do a sniff test, but her eyes lit on a small furry body with a long, pink tail, decomposing in the corner.

  Suzy screamed.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. She flapped her hands and danced in a circle before racing through the maze back to her hallway. Air forced its way into her lungs, and she panted while a storm brewed behind her eyelids. Was it so wrong to have things make sense, to be organized and clean? Why did they have to live like this? She swiped at a few errant tears roughly until her eyes met with the heavy padlock on the Blue Room door. She wrapped a cold hand around the steel and jerked, but it didn’t budge. What are you hiding, Marsha? More filth, more rats? What could be so important that she had to lock the room?

  Ugh! She slammed her door and leaned on it with both hands.

  Safe…for now.

  A cry-a-thon later, a puffy-eyed nap later, and a boiling-hot-shower-after-the-dead-rat-removal later, Suzy crouched on her bed in front of her open window. She couldn’t face her mom; she couldn’t face any of it. Without further ado, she jumped.

  A brisk walk out of Badger Court and through town led Suzy to Grubby’s where she ordered a cheeseburger with no pickles and a large side of fries. She added a double peanut butter milkshake, hoping to fill the hollow feeling behind her ribs. She’d hardly spoken to her mom since the cinnamon roll fiasco. Walls had been built and avoidance maneuvers employed, which was easier than it should have been since they were sharing a tin can. Mom went to one end and Suzy to the other.

  This time, she should have stayed. A confrontation was definitely in order. What would her dad say? What would he have done? He would have left the rat for Marsha to clean up. He’d tell her, I love you, but this time, it’s gone too far. You have a daughter to take care of, a daughter to keep safe. But instead, Suzy ran
like a chicken. Bock! Bock!

  Sorry, Dad.

  But, she had to take care of herself. She had to get out of there.

  Suzy slid into a private booth by the corner window, away from the dining racket, the chatter, and the laughter. Alone, just how she liked it. She placed her warm burger in front of her and unwrapped it like a present. She shook her fries onto the paper-lined tray as her phone chimed. Great, it was her bogus boyfriend.

  “Your crate was out.” His voice rumbled in her ear. “Where are you?”

  “Look, I’m in the middle of something, I can’t talk right—”

  “Oh, never mind. I see you.” The line disconnected and two minutes later J.J. walked in the door. He nodded his chin, making his way to her, but thankfully, he stopped to chat up a booth-full of friends.

  Suzy closed her eyes for a quick meditative search on normal and came up empty. She’d written a paper once on the smile effect. If people are happy, they smile. When they smile, they become happier. Cause and effect. So through the tough times, one should smile, smile, smile!

  “Hey.” J.J. slid into the booth opposite her. “You eating alone?”

  “How’s Gemma?” Suzy pushed her lips up brightly.

  “Meh. Don’t say anything, but Gemma’s dad is an abusive A-hole. He’s always calling her a whore and telling her how stupid she is.” J.J. tapped his fingers on the table and leaned forward. “When she called, she wanted to explain about her and Ron. Says they’re just friends because his dad is the same way, only a lot more physical. So they just talk. Do you believe it?” He squinted at her.

  “Do you?” Suzy nibbled at her straw and watched him. She couldn’t imagine her dad saying those things to her. If he did, would she want to talk about it with someone? She didn’t talk now…about how her mom devoted her time and attention to material things, how they never hugged or said I love you, how they lived surrounded by piles of stuff, the dead rat, and how all of it made her feel thin, unimportant, and embarrassed.