Boy in a Band (A Morgan Mallory story) (4 page)

“That was good
,” I said, then winced, thinking how dumb that sounded.

He looked into my eyes
, not saying a word until I had to glance away. When I looked back, he was still watching me. His gaze slipped down to my breasts quickly and then back up again. I felt my heart skip a beat and my body temperature rise. Uncertainly I smiled back at him, which didn’t seem to derail him at all.
Wow, he was good-looking.
My fingers unexpectedly reached up touching my lips and I felt uneasy as if he could see everything I was feeling. I breathed in through my nose and tried to slow my heart back down.

“D
o you play anything?” he asked.

I blinked at him and tried to focus on his question.

“I tried guitar once and got as far as “Kumbaya”, you know,
kum bay ya my lord, kum bay ya
, and that was enough of that.”

He laughe
d again, throwing his hair back. Again I felt the urge to touch his thick blond hair. I imagined it warm and silky and,
oh man I’m hot.
His laugh was nice and natural, not forced like some of the boys at school. These sensations he was causing were new and uncomfortable for me.

“Maybe if they didn’t always start with
“Kumbaya”, more people would stick with it. I know it’s a good one to learn the chords, but it’s so- What am I looking for- religious, boring?” he said.

“Both
. I wanted to be like Linda Ronstadt on stage, belting out “You’re no Good”
,”
I said
.

He smiled at me and s
tarted to play again, this time something that sounded vaguely familiar. His lips tightened as he focused on his playing, the sides of his mouth twitching slightly with various chords. After he finished a second, then a third song, he put the guitar down. He got up from the chair and stretched to the side like a cat, sort of arching his back, then he walked casually across the room and sat on the end of his bed and looked at me.

“Do you sing?” I asked.

“Yeah, sometimes. I play with some other guys from school too. What school do you go to?” he asked, switching the subject.

“Bret Harte in Almaden
,” I answered.

He
kept shifting. He would concentrate on me closely, then look away. I felt self-conscious, as if I was some sort of oddity. I wondered if it was my hair, people found my curly, unruly hair sort of fascinating for some reason.

“Do y
ou like it?” he asked, rolling back on his elbows, his legs slightly spread.

It was harder to see him from the floor now that he was reclined
back; I noticed his bare feet, and the faded jeans with their ragged hem. My gaze continued upward, between his legs to his blue and green striped T-shirt before encountering his beautiful face.
Did I really just think that, beautiful?
My breath caught as I got up from the floor and moved to the chair, hoping he wouldn’t notice that my face was flush.

             
“Most of the time,” I answered.

             
I straddled it backwards, facing him. He watched me move and I found it exciting, the way he looked at me. I could envision touching him.

             
“My parents are thinking of moving, and if they do, that’s where I’d go,” he said.

             
“Really? Bret Harte? Why do they want to move? Didn’t they just get finished adding the family room?” I asked a bit surprised.

             
“My dad always has a project going, and once he finishes it, he starts looking for another one. Now that the family room is done, he wants to build a whole house. He keeps looking at lots in a new subdivision in Almaden. Something about a rock. You heard of it?”

             
“Yes, it’s nice. It’s up the hill from our house,” I said.

             
I put my hands on the back of the chair and arched my back, stretching. I was feeling the effects of being on my feet all day. He watched me, and a smile passed across his lips. The smile, or maybe his lips, unnerved me and I quickly stopped stretching.

             
“This house is good enough,” he said. “Besides I have my friends here, I don’t want to move.”

             
“Yeah, I guess that would sort of suck,” I said, thinking of my friends at school and on our street.

             
Mathew got up from his bed and picked up the guitar.

             
“You want the chair back?” I asked.

             
He shrugged his shoulders.

“Doesn’t matter
,” he said, sitting back on the end of the bed.

He started to pick again
, and I relaxed, enjoying watching him play. I hadn’t spent this much time talking to any boy except Pat; I couldn’t wait to tell Gayle about him. I knew she would die when I told her about my feelings, well some of them. Just as I was getting comfortable in my skin around him, Ann and my mom appeared in the doorway.

“Hey
, Morgan, it’s time to go,” my mom said.

My heart sank, now I was the one who wanted to stay, keep this
good-looking boy captive, and listen to him play.

             
“Mathew, remember Mrs. Mallory?” Ann asked.

             
“Oh, please, call me Patty,” my mom said, and they both laughed.

             
I rolled my eyes; now she wanted to go by Patty because of Ann’s insistence on using the first name basis. Mathew had stopped playing and watched me get up from the chair. Again he was checking me out and in a strange way it made me feel special.

             
“You’re tall,” he said.

             
I walked to the door, aware his eyes were still on me, and turned around. He got a lazy grin on his face, which clutched at my heart.

“Nice meeting you,” I said.

Mathew stood up.

             
“See you around, Morgan.”

             
He said my name like a musical note and I couldn’t help but stare at him.

“It’s a family name by the way
,” I said.

“What is?” h
e asked.

             
“Morgan. It’s from my dad’s side,” I answered.

             
I followed Ann and my mom down the hall as the guitar playing resumed. I noticed that the rain had stopped when Ann opened the front door, Brad stepping up next to her.

“Thanks for stopping by
,” Ann said.

             
“Nice to meet you both,” Brad said, his arm draped casually around Ann’s shoulders.

Stepping outside
, the night air smelled of pine and rain and I wondered if I would ever smell that again and not remember tonight. I felt sort of lightheaded as I got into the car. Those like feelings Gayle and I spoke of now made perfect sense.

“How did
you and Mathew get along?” mom asked.

             
“Fine, he’s nice,” I answered flatly, trying not to betray my excitement.

“And cute and talented it appears
,” she responded.

She shot
me a quick glance across the car as she drove. I felt my face get hot and was glad it was dark in the car.

             
“So, the invitation… Are kids going too?” I asked.

              “Yeah, it’s a family thing.”

             
I would be seeing him again and couldn’t wait.

Chapter
6

The following weekend my parents were invited to a barbeque
, and I heard that the O’Conner’s would be there. On the drive over, I sat and thought about Mathew while my heart flitted and raced. When I’d told Gayle about him and how I had felt, she thought it was funny. She could envision my physical reaction to him and teased me about it.

“I can’t wait to see him
,” I said.

             
“That’s something I haven’t heard you say very often, or never,” Gayle teased.

             
“I know.”

             
I hoped Mathew and I would get a chance to talk some more. When we arrived at the Bensons, it was still light out, and there were a lot of people—adults and kids. Some I knew, some I didn’t. I joined the girls in a game of tag in the backyard. We took off our shoes, and I could feel the cool grass between my toes. I looked around the group and hadn’t seen any of the O’Conner’s. The adults were busy cocktailing and noshing on appetizers while we were off running around, enjoying the freedom of early summer and warmer weather. The yard smelled of freshly cut grass and jasmine.

“Let’s get some lemonade
,” Alice Benson suggested.

She was the oldest daughter and about a
year ahead of me. Alice’s mom had set up an area on the patio with snacks and drinks for the kids.

             
“Time to light the barbie,” Mr. Benson said to no one in particular as he came onto the back patio.

             
Alice took the pitcher and started pouring glasses of lemonade.

             
“Here, guys,” she said, holding out a glass at a time.

             
I took one and sat down on the cement steps.

             
“Look at my feet,” I laughed.

M
y feet were totally green from the lawn. Everyone started turning their feet up and looking at their own. All our feet were green, green and covered with little clippings of grass.

             
“Wash those before you go in the house,” Mr. Benson said. “Alice, all of you, I mean it.”

“Ok
ay, Dad, got it,” Alice answered.

I looked through the kitchen window and caught a glimpse of Mathew and three other boys talking inside
. We sat and drank the lemonade, which tasted fresh squeezed. Not so sweet, more tart, the way I liked it. The other girls were talking, and I was only half listening as I watched Mathew through the window. I knew two of the boys, but not the other: Alice’s brother Pete, who was younger than Mathew; Glenn was another friend’s son who was Mathew’s age; and, the fourth had to be Bobby, who I’d heard about but not met.

I knew from my m
om that Bobby and Mathew were good friends. Bobby was shorter than Mathew and had dark, thick wavy hair and olive skin. I could see them fairly well as the light was on in the house.
Damn, Bobby was cute too.
He and Mathew together were enough to make any girl look. I pictured Mathew reclined on his bed the day we’d gone by their house, and I felt a tingling sensation between my legs. It wasn’t the first time thoughts of Mathew could make me feel that. Alice’s mom came to the back door.

“Hey
, girls, time to wash up for dinner.”

             
“Come on, let’s get the feet,” Alice said, dragging out the garden hose.

The sun was disappearing
, and it was getting cold now that we weren’t running around. I was ready to go in. I grabbed my socks and Keds and put them back on. I would wash my feet later. When I came through the door, Mathew was still in the kitchen, his back to me. Bobby was facing me. He looked me in the eye and said something to Mathew. I looked away, pretending not to notice. When I looked back in their direction, Mathew was staring at me, and our eyes met. I smiled and he gave me the
hey
gesture with a raise of his chin. He turned back to Bobby and seemingly reported who I was.

             
“Get a plate, get some food,” Alice’s mother said, pushing everyone to get going.

I didn’t get a chance to meet Bobby or say anything to Mathew until dinner was cleared and des
sert was over. We had jammed into the family room with plates on our laps to watch nothing that any of us could agree on. The younger kids won out and
Flipper
was on, and I watched the dolphin skip across the water ‘hehe, he, he-he’. It wasn't until I went to the kitchen to throw my plate in the trash that Mathew introduced Bobby to me.

             
“Hi. I think I was playing tag with one of your sisters,” I said before grimacing inside
what a lame thing to say
.

             
“Actually two of them,” he said.

He was handsome
with beautiful brown eyes. When I looked at Mathew, he smiled slowly at me.
Could he read my thoughts?
I looked quickly back at Bobby.

“Nice to meet you
,” I said.

I could feel Mathew’s eyes on me
, could imagine the look in them from in his room when he’d checked me out. I wanted to hang with them, but didn’t know how I could do that. It was like it was expected that I hang with the girls.

“What are you guys up to?”
I asked, desperately hoping they would include me.

             
“Not
Flipper
that’s for sure,” Mathew said.

             
I kept my eyes on Bobby knowing the physical reactions Mathew could cause.

“Ah
, we’ll find something to do,” he said.

              I waited for them to ask me to come, but they didn’t and I felt a deep disappointment.

             
“Guess I’ll put up with
Flipper
,” I said.

             
I turned away and went back into the family room. I couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing. I didn’t get a chance to talk with either of them again that night.

The next few weeks went by quickly with school coming to an end, projects due, and testing. My weekends were spent with my friends on the block, adventures down to the creek, us girls talking about boys. I didn’t have much firsthand experience with boys. Even Gayle had ventured farther than me. What I did have was the desire to, a bad desire. I thought about Mathew a lot, even when I tried not to. I pictured myself kissing him, feeling his skin, putting my hands in his hair. He was the first boy I had felt these kinds of feelings for, anything with him somehow wouldn’t be gross. I kept it to myself.

My family got invited to the O’Conner
’s house for dinner prior to school ending. For days I felt the highs and lows in my stomach, my emotions ran the gamut from sheer joy to sheer panic. I tried on clothes for Gayle to have her help me decide what to wear. In the end I picked a pair of jeans that made my butt look good, and a top that accentuated my boobs. I felt silly over thinking Mathew’s reaction to me, wondering if his curiousness was all in my head.

When the night came I
pulled on my flared bell-bottom jeans and the pink peasant blouse. I put on makeup and large silver hoop earrings and then admired myself in the mirror. I looked cute;
he’d have to notice.
I finished with lip-gloss and a dab of perfume. Butterflies filled my stomach in anticipation of seeing him. I hoped he would play his guitar for me, alone in his room, like the first time I met him.

I had conversations in my head about what we would talk about
. Wanting him to get to know me, be interested in me, and what I thought, attracted to me. When we arrived at the O’Conner’s, Mathew did not seem to be around, and I was too shy to ask about his whereabouts, and it seemed no one was offering. Pat, Sara, Sam, and I played tag until dark out in their yard. When Ann called us in for dinner, I still hadn’t seen Mathew.

“Where’s Mathew?”
mom finally asked.

             
Thank you
I said to myself and waited for Ann to answer.

“He’s at a friend’s playing guitar. They’ve formed
a sort of band, I understand.”

             
“Oh,” mom said.

             
“It’s cute,” Ann said. “He’s the leader of the band. He enjoys it. Keeps him busy, I guess.”

             
I could feel my disappointment smash all the butterflies. My sense of wonder and joy about being at the O’Conner’s vanished. After dinner we all helped clear the table, the adults got an after-dinner drink and turned on a movie. It was a sad movie and now all I wanted to do was go home. Mathew showed up towards the end. Seeing we were watching a movie, he waved hello and headed to the kitchen. I could hear him get into the refrigerator, then dishes and glasses clinking. I wanted to go out and see him, talk to him, but I thought it would appear strange. When the movie was over, Mathew had disappeared.

              We were sitting cross-legged, Indian style, on the platform in the oak tree when Gayle asked me how dinner with Mathew had gone. I snorted and stubbed out the cigarette we had shared.

“Dinner was good. Not seeing Mathew was bad.”

“I thought you went to his house?” Gayle questioned.

             
“We did, but he wasn’t home. I was so, so bummed.”

             
“Shoot, you were looking forward to seeing him.”

             
“I know, and instead I got to play tag with his brother and sister and watch a movie with his parents,” I complained.

             
Gayle laughed, it was low and slow.

“No shit?”

              “Yeah, no shit,” I answered with a scowl.

             
“Where was he?”

             
“Playing guitar somewhere else,” I said perturbed.

             
I picked at the filter of the cigarette pulling the fibers apart and throwing them over the edge of the platform.

             
“He knew you were coming, right?”

             
“I would think,” I said sarcastically.

             
The thought sort of jabbed at my heart, that he knew I was coming, but went out anyways. Gayle had posed the question I didn’t want to consider.

             
“When he came home, we were all watching a movie. He poked his head in, waved, then disappeared. I wanted to follow him so bad, but I would have looked like an idiot leaving mid-movie. Like I was chasing him, when I hardly know him. Man, he is so cute,” I said and sighed.

             
“I think you have a crush on him, girl,” she said, pushing my arm, causing me to fall to the side.

             
“No, I don’t think so,” I said, falsely protesting.

             
“Oh yeah, oh yeah,” she taunted.

             
I wondered if this is what a crush felt like, it had to be. He was in my thoughts constantly.

“What about Alex?” I said
, trying to give her grief back.

             
“Nothing there. He’s okay, but I don’t have it for him. That one night was sort of a freak thing, too much Boone's Farm.”

             
I laughed. Gayle shifted and stretched her legs straight out in front of her.

             
“Get your mom to have the O’Conner’s over so I can meet this Mathew,” she said.

             
“I need to be seeing him first. A whole lot more of him,” I pouted.

             
“Okay, be honest, you want to kiss him, right?”

             
I didn’t answer her. Gayle slapped her thigh and let out a partial squeal.

             
“Oh, Morgan, finally one that’s really got your attention,” she laughed.

             
“Shut up. There are a few who’ve got my attention,” I said, giving her a challenging look.

“Who else
? Name 'em!” she shot back.

             
I thought about it for a minute.

             
“Bobby,” I said.

             
“Bobby who?” she asked surprised.

             
“A friend of Mathew’s,” I answered.

             
“Bullshit. You’re not a very good liar, you know.”

             
“I’m not lying. Let’s go,” I chuckled, uncrossing my legs and standing before turning and starting down the tree.

              “So, do you want to kiss Bobby too?” she asked, coming down after me.

             
“No, only Mathew for now,” I said, jumping to the ground at the bottom.