Avra's God (14 page)

“I’m all about being safe.” Kallie slid the
crinkled plastic back into her pocket. “You gave me a lot to think
about.”

I gave myself a lot to think
about
.

Jesse wheeled the car around the corner. He
spotted Kallie in her neon orange jeans walking the berm away from
campus. A ponytail of white-blonde hair swished nearly to her waist
as she moved. His heart raced as he mashed on the brake.

She turned toward the sound of his car,
cradling her knapsack in her arms.

Jesse leaned out the window. “Hey.”

Kallie’s eyes met his and darted away.

Jesse rolled ahead of her. “Where’s lover
boy?”

Her lips thinned.

“Or, maybe I should say, ‘boy toy.’“

“You’ve got half the underclass girls in your
fan club—”

“Yeah, but I’m not holding their hands
between classes or playing kissy-kissy in the parking lot.”

“What do you want, Jesse?”

He searched for their connection in the green
of her eyes, willing it to be there. “Would you look at some songs
for me?”

“Why should I?”

Ouch.
Maybe he deserved that. He
dropped the car into park and reached for his knapsack. He yanked a
manila folder out and passed it through the window.

Kallie flipped open the folder with one hand.
“‘
Ice Girl
.’ I’ve heard this.”

His brows shot up in surprise. “How?
When?”

“At the Battle of the Bands.”

Shock pinged inside him. “You were
there?”

“You were really
on
that day. It’s the
best I’ve heard you.”

Her grudging praise stroked him more than a
coliseum full of cheers or the trophy that had taken up residence
in Cisco’s trunk. He grinned wryly. “I guess the song’s not true
anymore. You’re only Ice Girl to me.”

“I guess.” Emotion he couldn’t read flared in
her eyes and roughened her voice.

He tapped the folder in her hands. “Take a
look.” He drove off before she could argue. She’d come to the
Battle of the Bands. A smile crept through him and settled around
the ache in his ribcage.

Avra broke Cisco’s kiss and leaned her head
back against the sofa in her living room. Her body was so hungry
for him that it scared her. Blue and orange light spilled from the
TV into the dark living room. His hot breath fanned her neck.
Overhead, the ceiling fan spun like a roulette wheel.

Yesterday’s conversation with Kallie gnawed
at her, and she tugged herself loose from Cisco’s arms. “All you
ever want to do is make out.”

“It’s fun.” He stroked her arm. “You like it
too.”

She crossed her arms, moving away from his
touch. “What’s the point of heavy breathing if we’re not going
there?”

“Wish we were—”

“I
know
.”

Green from the TV turned his face to stone.
“Man, Avra, all I’m asking for is a little lovin’.”

“Yeah, like an athletic event.”

“Listen—”

“It’s too much.”

“Not nearly enough,” Cisco said under his
breath.

Avra stared at the electronic light splashed
on the walls. The TV droned. “No matter how much we make out, it’s
never enough for you.”

“Last I checked, I had zero fouls with you.
I’m pretty dang proud of my record.”

“Yeah, but you play it like a martyr. It’s
all my fault your life is miserable, that you’re not getting
sex.”

“Excuse me for loving you, wanting you.”

The hard edge in his voice cut into her. “I’m
just saying why get all heated up—”

“Aroused.”

She blushed. “If we’re not going to have
sex.”

“Spell it out. You don’t want me to touch
you?”

“Can’t we go back to how we were in the
beginning—a kiss, holding hands, a hug, walking arm in arm down the
beach? Skip the long make-out sessions every time we’re
together?”

“You want to take away the few crumbs you’re
feeding me.” Disgust laced his words.

She stared at Conan O’Brien, tuning out his
monologue. “Maybe you should find a girl who will dish a value
meal, if it’s so important to you.”

Cisco’s weight lifted off the couch. “Maybe I
will.” His footfalls moved across the floor to the door.

Avra stared at Conan’s earlobe as the seconds
ticked by.

The door opened and shut.

Kallie breezed in, the screen door thumping
behind her, and headed for the kitchen.

Aly danced around the kitchen waving a
letter, her blonde pixie floating after her. “I’ve got something
you want.”

“Who’s it from?”

“DK.”

Kallie snatched the letter when Aly wiggled
by. Her heart tripped. A slim, white envelope addressed to her in
Jesse’s slanted printing lay pinched under her thumb. She folded
the letter in half and slipped it into her back pocket.

Aly hopped up and down, first on one foot,
then the other. “So, who’s the letter from? Huh? Huh?”

“Nobody.”

Aly lunged for Kallie’s pocket. “Then, can I
read it?”

Kallie sidestepped her. “No, you may
not.”

“Pretty important nobody if you ask me.”

“I’m not asking.” Kallie’s hand went to her
pocket to make sure the letter was safe. Why would Jesse mail her a
letter? What couldn’t he say on campus? She’d e-mailed him her
comments on the songs he’d given her. They were at a standoff, not
exactly speaking, not exactly not-speaking.

Kallie shut her bedroom door, muffling the
names Aly shouted as possible authors of the letter. She sank down
on her childhood quilt. Her hands shook. She tapped the sealed
envelope against her leg. It rattled fault lines between her and
Zack she didn’t even know existed.

She took a deep breath and ripped off the end
of the envelope. A single typewritten page slipped out with musical
staff and notes drawn in by hand.

Avra ran the length of the soccer field,
halfway through a five-hundred-yard run. Conversation among her
teammates dwindled and her mind centered on Cisco. She hadn’t seen
or heard from him all day. Why had she picked a fight over nothing?
He was right. No fouls.

But it sure felt like there were fouls firing
all over the place inside her. Was the
wanting
a sin? The
relationship had felt
Ever-After-
innocent for so long. And
now it felt like a
Sex and the City
wannabe.

She couldn’t remember the last time they’d
gone a day without speaking. Everything felt wrong, like a goal
post had fallen on her and she couldn’t get up. She missed him.

“Scrimmage time,” Coach Desoto barked.

Kallie smoothed out “
Kallie in the
Clouds
” on her quilt as though it were an archeological find
instead of a sheet of twenty-pound copy paper. She held the sheet
to her nose and inhaled, searching for a scent of Jesse. Nothing.
Her eyes crept down the page.

You’ve been walkin’ in the clouds for a while
now,

Breathin’ breeze, dancin’ your dreams.

I see you, a-way up there.

Your laughter drizzles down to me.

And I gotta say—

Kallie in the clouds, when you come down,

When your feet hit level ground,

You gotta know that I’m still here,

And I still care, still care for you.

So, you’re livin’ on cotton candy;

The sugar’s meltin’ on your teeth.

The soda you’re sippin’ is sweet.

All the flavors taste the same up there,

So, I gotta say—

Kallie in the clouds, when you come down,

When your feet hit level ground,

You gotta know that I’m still here,

And I still care, still care for you.

Two kids—a stratosphere apart—

Connected by a slender thread

That weaves through then and forever.

Today it sparkles in the sun

And reminds me to say—

Kallie in the clouds, when you come down,

When your feet hit level ground,

You gotta know that I’m still here,

And I still care, still care for you.

She read it again, then a third time, humming
the notes until the tune branded her heart. A breeze puffed through
the jalousie windows, lifting the song from the bed. It swished in
graceful arcs to the floor.

Her gaze flew to the clock. Ten minutes late
meeting Zack. She snatched the page from the floor and slipped it
into her nightstand with her letters to God.

Cisco threw his books on the snack bar table
and jerked his head toward Billy. “What are you trying to say ’bout
my girl? That she’s a bowwow? What? Why don’t you just say what you
mean? If you don’t have the
cojones
to get your own girl,
don’t go insulting mine.”

“Whoa.” Billy backed up. “Chill. I’m just
saying she’s not the type you usually go for.”

“I got my reasons. Leave it at that.”

Billy smirked. “Yeah, I bet you do.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” He got in
Billy’s face. “She’s not that kind of girl. And you’re going to
remember it.” He threw a punch hard to Billy’s midsection.

“Ooof.” Billy buckled at the waist.

Thirty minutes later he kicked dirt hunks
into the sunset-scorched river. Billy was an idiot. He deserved
that punch. But what really ripped him was the grain of truth in
Billy’s words. He could do better. He could get a prettier, more
popular girl—one with fewer moral convictions. Part of him wanted
out.

He pictured Avra’s athletic body—her natural
beauty. The bigger part of him wanted to stay connected to her—even
when she was being freakishly unreasonable. Sometimes she was too
naïve for her own good. The only way she was going to get a
stone-cold boyfriend was if she dated a gay. He launched a clod of
dirt into the rose-tinted water and watched it dissolve on the way
to the bottom.

Cisco stuck his pen in the pocket of his
Walmart uniform shirt. He looked up and saw Isabel walking through
automotive toward him.

Her gaze clamped onto his. She brushed
against him on the way past the service desk. “Don’t be such a
stranger.” She angled herself against the counter to expose the
olive skin between her blouse and jeans that hugged every
curve.

His body responded. “You’re trouble with a
capital T. I’ve got a girl,
chiquita
.” He put the desk
between them. “Leave me alone.” He glanced over his shoulder. Where
was Enrique when he needed him?

Her gloss-slicked lips pouted. “You didn’t
want me to leave you alone last summer.” She leaned over the
counter toward him, her dark hair brushing the Formica.

He closed his eyes, shutting out the crease
between her breasts. But when he opened them, she hadn’t moved. She
toyed with him like a panther batting at its prey. His gaze slid to
the rounded skin, the trace of lace and away. His mind remembered
the rest. He ran a hand over his face. “You stalking me again?”

Isabel stood. “Waiting my turn,
chico
.” Triumph glistened in her eyes.

Enrique shuffled in from the car bay, his
nose buried in a sheaf of order forms.

“Later.” She pivoted and walked back down the
aisle.

He watched the sway of her hips a heartbeat
longer than he should have.

Avra stepped off the last step of the bus
onto the curb. She closed bloodshot eyes against the brightness of
morning. Muggy spring air rolled over her. The bus belched and
moved on.

Cisco stood against the wall watching
her.

Her heart skipped a beat. “You’re here.” She
walked toward him.

He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his
eyes. “I’ve been here every morning for eight months.”

“Except yesterday.”

He reached up and brushed a strand of hair
out of her face. “I missed you,
mi vainilla.”

“I’m sorry about the other night.”

“You meant what you said.”

“So did you.” She wrapped her arms around her
waist. “I don’t want to fight. I guess I could have said it more
nicely.”

Cisco gave a humorless laugh. “That you don’t
want to kiss me?”

“That we could do other stuff sometimes,
spend fewer hours wanting what we can’t have.”

“We do a million other things. We’re together
every day. You make me sound like I’m an animal or something. It’s
all about expressing love to each other.”

“We have the same argument over and over.
We’re never going to agree. We’ve got to compromise.”

Cisco quirked an eyebrow. “That’s the whole
problem, isn’t it? You’re not a compromising girl.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do. I don’t want to fight either.
I’ll try. All I can do is try.” He pulled her into a hug.

The Cisco she didn’t know faded. The one she
knew returned. Avra let her breath out. “Me too.”

Cisco released her.

“I didn’t really mean you should find another
girl.”

“I know.”

Jesse slouched near the front of the church
mentally thumbing through all the things he’d rather be
doing—rehearsing with the band, jamming in the shed, sleeping. He
yawned and stretched an arm across the back of the pew.
Unchallengeable family law said you showed up twice on Sundays. It
was his own fault he hadn’t moved out by now.

Had Kallie gotten “
Kallie in the
Clouds
”? Would that spark he saw in her eyes come to life? He
shifted on the unforgiving wood of the bench.

Jesse’s gaze drifted to the guest preacher. A
soft, white hand lifted from the Bible on the podium and forked
shiny—from oil or hair products, he couldn’t tell—black hair off
his forehead. The guy was maybe thirty and wore that somber,
I-have-a-message-from-God expression that made Jesse’s gut say,
oh yeah?