Crush Control (14 page)

I couldn't stand the sound of defeat in her voice. “No big deal,” I said. “So we'll buy some fans, okay? It'll be fall before we know it.” I did my best to sound positive, not thinking that if I had to live in an un-air-conditioned home, I might as well just dye my hair pink and sell it as cotton candy at the homecoming parade, because the frizz would never cease.

She was quiet on the other end except for a small, quivery inhale.

“It'll be fine, Mom. Plus, tonight, we can slumber-party at Max's!”

“Yes,” she said, and I could hear the tiniest bit of a smile in her voice. “Yes, we can.”

We hung up, and since Max was still in his room on the phone with Minnie, I found the Montgomerys' couch and chatted with Max's mom. A few times, when Mrs. Montgomery had her head in the fridge and we weren't talking, I heard Max's voice through the wall. It kind of sounded a little irritated and I wondered if they were fighting. I wondered if they were fighting about me. Was Minnie jealous that I was there? But fifteen minutes later, he emerged from his room looking calm and happy, so I concluded I must have been wrong. I sighed.
She wins, even when I'm in person and she's just a voice on the phone.

“Hey, come here,” Max said. “I want to show you something.”

I followed him into his room. His bed was unmade and the pillows had been tossed to the floor. Over his desk was a framed poster of dogs playing poker. His iPod was set up in a docking station, and small box speakers were mounted in all four corners of the ceiling. In the corner of the room was a huge five-piece drum set in wine red with two sixteen-inch gold cymbals. I walked toward them, taking the long wooden drumsticks in my hand. Then I noticed sheet music resting on the stool. In Max's scratchy handwriting there were music notes and words scribbled.

“Oh,” I said, putting the drumsticks down. “Are you writing a song?” I started to reach for it but Max raced over and snatched the sheets off the stool. “Oooooh,” I teased. “Is it a
love song
for Minnie?” I reached around his waist and grabbed for the papers.

“Quit it,” he said, angling the music out of my grasp.

“
Oh, I love you soooooo,
” I mocked, reaching around the other side.

“Stop!” Max said, sounding serious but laughing. He stretched his hand way out of my reach.

“Oh, it must be really mushy.” I climbed onto his chair and reached for his hand but he snatched it away so fast I lost my balance and fell off the chair, pulling him with me.

“Willow,” Max cried, dropping the music sheets and reaching for me. The white sheets of paper fluttered through the air as I crashed toward the ground and Max fell on top of me.

I could feel his heart thumping against my chest. I could feel his lungs expanding and contracting with every breath. I could feel the weight of his body pressing against mine. His lips were inches from mine. His breath smelled like Orbitz spearmint gum. He wouldn't stop looking at me.

“Is everything okay in there?” Mrs. Montgomery called. Footsteps approached. Quickly Max scrambled up off of me. I sat up, dizzy from both the fall and the circumstances.

Mrs. Montgomery poked her head in. “You all right?”

“Just took a tumble,” I said. “I'm fine.”

Max gathered up the sheets of music off the ground and swiftly shoved them into his desk drawer.

“Dinner's ready,” Mrs. Montgomery said.

“Great.” Max smiled and followed her out like he was eager to get away from me or from the situation.
Away from his feelings.
And again, the moment was lost.

My mom walked in and we all sat around their circular table. Mrs. Montgomery served chicken quesadillas and rice.

Max looked across the table at me and I held his stare.
What just happened?

“Remember that time,” Max's mom said, “when the kids were seven and they got sent home with a note from their teacher for talking too much in class so they decided to run away?”

“And we got a call from Ann Marie Gallagher,” Mom interjected. “She had picked them up in front of the BP gas station, all sweaty and exhausted because you two thought that ‘running away' meant you had to actually
run
.” Mom and Mrs. Montgomery laughed and laughed. Max looked at me again, but this time the smile was different. Less desire, more reminiscent.
Definitely a friend smile.

“And Willow's backpack,” Mom continued, “was all appropriately packed with fresh underwear and toothpaste and a map but the only thing Max had packed to take with him for the rest of his life was his drumsticks and a box of fudge Pop-Tarts!”

We all laughed. I remembered that night well, even without the constant replays. Mom had unpacked my bag and told me that no matter how upset I was, I couldn't run away from my problems—that distance wouldn't solve anything. But less than one year later, Mom packed up our apartment and we took off for Vegas, putting a two-thousand-mile separation between Mom and her problems.
Some example.

After dinner, we all cleared the table. I was loading silverware into the dishwasher when Max walked into the kitchen holding a stack of plates. He playfully bumped his hip into mine. “Hey,” he said. “Watch it.”

I bumped him back. “Sorry, tight quarters.”

He reached over my arm and dumped the four plates into the dishwasher.

“No,” I said. “If you put them this way, there's more room.”

“Why do we need more room?” Max asked. “Are you planning on entertaining some gentlemen friends tonight?”

I smiled devilishly.
Jealousy is a great plot twist.
“Never can tell.”

Max held my stare for a beat; then he reached down and began rearranging the cups on the top rack. “Well, then, by all means, let's make room.”

Mrs. Montgomery walked past us. “You kids,” she said breezily, but I caught Mom eyeing our exchange with a touch more scrutiny. I wondered if she could see past my false bravado and see how desperate I was for Max to adore me?

Mom was snuggled under the covers with her textbook, so I crept out into the living room, figuring I'd watch some TV. Max sat on the couch in a pair of loose white karate bottoms and a blank white T-shirt. He looked up and smiled at me.

“Like your jammies,” he said.

Suddenly I felt very exposed. I wondered if he could tell I'd taken off my bra. I crossed my arms over my chest and sat next to him. He looked down at my loose cotton shorts. They were periwinkle blue and covered with pastel-colored hearts. I wore the matching short-sleeve top.

“Like the hearts,” he said.

“Yeah, well, this is what I like to sleep in.”

“So you'll dream of romance?” he teased.

“Maybe,” I said and wondered if he's purposefully brought up the topic. Maybe he wondered if I'd purposefully worn the hearts. Had I?

“Look,” he said. “The way the shirt wrinkles here, it looks like one of your hearts is broken.

I looked down.

“Have you ever had a broken heart?” he asked seriously. “How come we've talked about everything but I've never really heard about any of your boyfriends?”

I'd liked boys, sure. I'd even dated a few. But it was always pathetic, really. It never lasted long, and mostly we just held hands and made out a little. Nothing special. I never ever felt the way I felt now, with Max.

“So have you?” he asked again. “Had your heart broken? Other than that asshole Logan in eighth grade, of course. He doesn't count.”

“Right,” I said. “He doesn't count.”
Except that's when I realized I loved you.
“Yes,” I finally answered. “I have had my heart broken.” And it was true.
My heart is breaking right now thinking that you don't love me back.
“What about you?”

He shook his head slightly. “I don't think so. Not really. I mean, I've been dumped—remember Caryn in ninth grade? Whew, that was awkward . . . but crushed? Nah. I don't think so.”

“You'd know if you had,” I said.

“So why don't you tell me about it?” he asked.

I looked into his blue eyes.
Once upon a time there was a boy. His hair was the color of coal, his eyes the color of faded denim. His smile, carefree and inviting, was the one thing that made me brave.
It was quiet for a moment, just the soft hum of the air-conditioning blowing through the vent above us.

“What happened?” Max asked softly, intently.

“The boy I loved chose someone else.”

We stared at each other. In the background, Conan made jokes about a politician. Max reached over and took my hand. I slumped into the couch and pretended to watch TV but all the while I wondered,
Are you holding my hand to console a friend, or have you felt the connection all night, too?

Early the next morning I was stumbling to the hall bathroom when I heard whispers from the living room. My heart sank at the thought of Max and Minnie sitting on the couch together, holding hands, Minnie the window climber this time—sneaking over sometime in the middle of the night. But when I pressed myself to the wall and snuck a glance, it wasn't them. It was Max's mom and my mom, sharing a large navy blanket and talking.

“I wish I could lend you the money,” Mrs. Montgomery said. “If I had it.”

“No.” Mom shook her head. “Thanks, but I'm just going to call today and see if it's too late to cancel the registration check.”

“No, Vicki, you can't. That's too important.”

Mom sighed. “Well, maybe I can return that video equipment.” Her mouth twisted. “Do you think they'll take it back if I've opened it?”

Max's mom sighed and pulled the blanket up under her chin. “I don't know.”

Back in Vegas there were times when money would get tight. I'd have to reel Mom in, tell her the credit cards were steaming, remind her she didn't need another pair of dangling crystal earrings. And she'd watch her spending and we'd be back on track in no time. When we left, I was reluctant to hand over the checkbook, relinquish that control, but she insisted. It was not fair, she said, the way she had dumped that responsibility on me.
But I like it!
I insisted. No, things were going to be different in Georgia.

It was really hard now, after such heartfelt proclamations, to watch her fumble.
How could she have spent the emergency fund?
I felt like a mother watching her child make mistakes, helplessly standing by, cringing, but unable to control the course of fate.

All day I felt out of sorts. I had spent the entire night replaying the scene on the couch with Max and now I couldn't concentrate because I was all jittery with nerves about going over Mia's to try and hypnotize her.