Confessions of a Serial Kisser (26 page)

92

Crossroads

M
Y MOM DROPPED HER KEYS
and her jaw when she eased through the door after work. "Better hurry," my dad said, tapping the side of the ice cream carton with his spoon.

I nodded, inspecting the mound on my spoon. "It's fudge-mocha swirl, and it's divine...and almost gone!"

My mom approached us cautiously but was smart enough not to make a fuss. Instead, she got herself a bowl and a spoon and pulled up a chair. "There's nothing I like better than an after-work ice cream party."

"How'd it go?" my dad asked, just like he used to. Just like the past half year hadn't happened.

But it had happened, and it was weird, and despite the fact that I'd spent an hour listening to my dad's heartfelt apologies and promises about the future, it didn't erase the past. Maybe it had been a crossroads for him. Maybe he had made a foolish turn when he should have gone straight. That didn't mean I could act like nothing had happened.

All of a sudden I was exhausted. All of a sudden I just wanted to go to bed.

My mom read my mood and held me by the arm as I started to stand. "I know tomorrow's
your
birthday, but this was the best present you could have given me."

I nodded once and said, "We're still a mess. Don't think we're not." I turned to my dad. "And just because everyone of those guitar gods you love covered 'Crossroads,' don't forget what happened to the guy who wrote it."

My dad cringed, and my mom asked, "That was Eric Clapton, right? What happened to him?"

"It was Robert Johnson," my dad said. "And he was poisoned to death for womanizing."

I couldn't help grinning at him as I headed to my room. "You got off easy!"

93

The Key

T
HE NEXT MORNING
I staggered into the kitchen to down a bowl of cold cereal, only to find my mother making my favorite (but rarely consumed) breakfast: scrambled eggs, sausage, and flaky buttermilk biscuits. "Happy birthday, angel!" she said with a dramatic wave of the spatula.

I looked around suspiciously for my dad.

I was just not ready to wake up to his presence.

Then I noticed that there were only two place settings. "Smells great," I said, sitting at the one with two little gold-wrapped boxes.

"You might want to wait until after breakfast to open those," she said, bringing a platter of food to the table.

"I might not!" I laughed. So I opened the top box and discovered a gold necklace with a heart-shaped pendant.

"Those are little rubies," she said, pointing out the tiny stones along one side of the heart.

I admired it, then draped the necklace back into the box. "It's very pretty, Mom. Thank you."

I started ripping into the second box, but as my mother scooped some eggs onto my plate, she said, "I'm serious about waiting until after you eat to open that one."

Immediately I understood why. "It's from Dad?"

She put a biscuit and sausage on my plate and gave a little shrug. "He wanted to be here, but I didn't think you were ready for that." She eyed the box. "And I really don't know how you're going to react to
that.
"

So I nibbled on my breakfast, keeping one eye on the half-opened box.

What could it be?

Was it jewelry?

What else could fit in a box like that?

I shook it, and it rattled.

Was it...a
key
?

Had he finally bought me a
car
?

I found myself getting really upset. I didn't want him to buy me a car! Not like this! It would seem like a bribe. It would be just...wrong.

"Oh, just open it," my mom finally said. "You're not eating anyway!"

So I did. And what I discovered inside was, in fact, a key.

Only it wasn't a car key. It was tarnished and cheap-looking. Bigger than a luggage key but way smaller than a house key.

"What does
this
go to? Some kind of locker?"

Mom took in a deep breath. "You could say that."

I stared at her. "You're not going to make me guess, are you?"

She shook her head. "It's under my bed."

94

Under the Bed

T
HE LAST TIME
I'
D LOOKED UNDER MY MOTHER'S BED
, I'd discovered
A Crimson Kiss.
It was like the place where this all began. Had she thought about that?

Probably not, but I couldn't help pausing for a moment.

What was under there now?

When I finally looked, I discovered that instead of books, there was now a long, flat, tattered rectangular case.

I knew right away what it was.

I gasped, then pulled it out by the handle and just stared.

"How do you feel about that?" my mother asked from the bedroom doorway.

There was a huge lump in my throat. "Strange," I choked out. I looked up at her. "You must've told him what I said about not teaching me."

"Oh, yeah," she said with a little smile. "Izzy had quite a talk with him, too."

"Izzy is in on this?"

She laughed. "Open it, would you?"

So I clicked open the latches and came face to frets with the Fender I'd played at Izzy's.

I covered my mouth. I stared. I giggled. And when I finally pulled it up by the neck, my hands were shaking.

It had a beautiful new padded black strap attached, and when I stood up and slung it over my shoulder, it didn't feel nearly as heavy.

It felt like it belonged.

Mom was shaking her head a little, tsking, as she leaned against the doorframe. "Oh, you do look good in guitar," she chuckled. Then she added, "Your dad says we've got to get you an amp, a tuner, some cables...."

"Can we do that today?"

She straightened up. "You're talking about playing hooky?"

"Why not? It's my birthday!"

"No! You're going to school. You're going to college! You can love music, you can love your guitar, but you're
not
following in your father's footsteps!" Then softly she added, "But maybe you can call him and tell him you like it?"

I smiled at her and nodded.

I had no problem with that.

95

Give 'n' Take

M
Y DAD AND
I
HAD A REALLY GOOD TALK
that morning, and although Mom offered me a ride to school, I knew she was really dying to go back to bed, so I told her I felt like walking. But when I left the condo, I discovered a familiar red truck parked along the curb.

Brody was leaning against the cab, waiting for me. "Happy birthday," he said with a shy smile. "I thought you might like a ride to school. Maybe let me buy you a frappuccino on the way?"

I laughed. "I can't believe you remembered!"

He opened the passenger door, and as I ducked in, I gasped. The upholstery had been completely redone. In place of the tattered black vinyl seats, there was now red and white diamond-tuft leather upholstery.

"Wow, wow, wow!" I said, sliding in. And when Brody took his seat behind the wheel, it struck me that he had been rotating through the same faded T-shirts all year, but that now, suddenly, he'd been able to completely redress his truck.

And that there wasn't actually anything "sudden" about it.

It had taken thought.

Planning.

Saving.

No...
investing.

Brody was blushing. "So you like it?"

"It's
amazing.
" But as he started the truck, I felt all the open space in the cab and realized that someone was missing. "So...how's Adrienne getting to school?"

It was probably a somewhat thoughtless thing to ask, but Brody took it in stride. "She's getting a ride from Mom this morning."

"Ah," I said with a nod.

"I tried to talk to her about you, but she's still high on her horse, sorry."

"Thanks for trying," I said.

"So what did your parents get you for your birthday, do you know?"

"An electric guitar!" I said, practically bouncing up and down. "A Fender Strat. It's used, but it's
so
cool. It's...it's amazing!"

He studied me a moment. "An electric guitar." He pulled into traffic, murmuring, "That's a perfect present for you." Then he smiled at me and said, "To me you
are
music, you know?"

I blinked at him.

In all the pages of
A Crimson Kiss,
in all the movies I'd seen, all the stories I'd read, there was no line that compared.

96

Room 212

I
REALLY DIDN'T WANT TO BE AT SCHOOL
. I didn't want to be reminded of the damage I'd done to my "reputation." I didn't want to face the tests I'd bombed or the homework I hadn't done. And I especially didn't want to face being shut down by Adrienne.

What I wanted was to be home with my guitar.

Or suspended like Brody.

Anywhere but school.

But as I trudged over to first period, the thought of Robbie Marshall made me feel a little lighter. I owed him an apology way bigger than the one I'd given him for our kissing fiasco. I'd never once thought that his change from smart boy to dumb jock could be anything more than the alluring pull of jockdom and popularity, and I felt bad for stereotyping him like I had.

I was also impressed that he'd been willing to talk things out with me (despite some pretty erratic behavior on my part).

So when he caught up to me outside of math and flashed his diamond-dusted smile and said, "Hey! Can you tutor me today?" my mind kind of blanked on the fact that it was my birthday and that there was a guitar waiting for me at home. I just said, "Sure!" and told him to meet me in Room 212 after school.

After that, I had a surprisingly calm and focused day. At lunch I ate in the usual spot in case Adrienne decided she wanted to forgive me on my birthday, but apparently she did not.

I tried not to let it get to me too much, and after school I went straight to Room 212.

"You're back?" Mrs. Huffington asked, obviously surprised to see me.

"I'm meeting a friend here to tutor him in math."

She fluttered uncomfortably, glancing at Lisa and the other two tutors. "I see."

Obviously I was violating some tutoring protocol, so I said, "Look. I'll help anyone, as long as they don't stink and aren't rude. If you're not comfortable talking to Roper about his odor, how do you expect me to be comfortable tutoring him?"

"Amen," Lisa muttered.

Then Robbie walked in.

"Hey," he said, giving me his gorgeous smile.

"
This
is who you're tutoring?" Mrs. Huffington asked.

I made the introductions and said, "Robbie is lost in a deep, dark mathematic abyss, and I'm going to help him find his way out."

"I see...," Mrs. Huffington said, but judging by the look in her eye, she was seeing more than was there.

Robbie, though, was amazing. He didn't flirt, he didn't fidget, he focused. And he must've noticed how Lisa and another female tutor were ogling him, but he didn't let it interrupt his concentration. He asked questions, he worked problems, and he kept at it until everyone else was long gone. Mrs. Huffington finally shooed us out, saying, "You'll have to resume this on Tuesday, or elsewhere. It's time for me to be getting home."

"Feel better?" I asked Robbie as we walked toward the parking lot. "Tons." Then he turned to me and said, "You're a really good teacher."

I smiled at him. "So you want to meet again on Tuesday?"

He smiled back. "Absolutely."

He offered me a ride home, but I decided it would be wiser to walk.

Besides, there was someplace I wanted to go on the way home.

And I wanted to do it alone.