Dizzy (2 page)

But that’s not really what we’re about. We’re comfortable. It’s nice to be comfortable. But if it’s so nice, why does my chest feel heavy? Now I just want to go to Mom’s restaurant and stuff my face. But first I need to dig through her car and see if I can find a shirt that isn’t soaked in beer.

Three

~Dylan~

Hangovers suck. My head is going to explode, my gut aches like I’ve spent too much time in the car with Paul after he eats Taco Bell, and my mouth feels like there’s glue in it. The part that really sucks is it’s my fault. I forgot my own rules. I didn’t follow the happy-buzz plan, drinking way more than I should have once Hanes left. I mean, who gets that pissed over a white T-shirt? Maybe she has stock in the company. The girl has some serious damage, which gives me something else to add to my suckage list. I’m in bed, feeling like a truck ran over me, yet my mind is on her.

What. The. Hell?

What did I ever do to her? What kind of person comes to a party with an Oscar the Grouch frown, insults the owner of said party and then eyes him up and down like he’s something to eat? Yeah, she had her eyes on me. I noticed. What I wish is that I’d been able to take my eyes off her. And it kind of kills me I had that effect on her. The I-couldn’t-care-less effect, not the devour-me-with-your-eyes one.

It shouldn’t matter because I don’t go for girls like her. I’m not into the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing because that leads to the kind of commitment that screwed up my whole family.

Chastity’s into me, and she doesn’t want more than just to have fun either. I should totally be focusing on her right now. On the way her skin felt beneath my hands, the way her mouth took mine. Granted, with a little too much spit, but still. Chastity is safe for a whole gang of reasons that I’m too foggy-brained to think about right now.

So I don’t. Instead I drag my lazy ass out of bed to get the house clean before Dad gets home. Then it’s shopping. Can’t have enough school clothes. Especially when I go to the hellhole known as Portland Prep—yes, that’s really the name. It doesn’t even matter that we have a school uniform; It’s always a good time for a new wardrobe.

***

“Dylan. Psst,” Chastity calls from the next row over and a seat behind me. Mrs. Palm is at the front of the room talking about who the hell knows what. How history can be so interesting I don’t understand, but she loses herself in the Ho Chi Minh Trail, rambling on and on, oblivious to what’s happening in the classroom.

I turn to her. “Yeah?”

School Chastity looks so different than party Chastity. There’s a makeup rule on how much you can wear, and party Chastity would definitely end up spending some time in detention if she showed up here.

“Do you have plans after school? Wanna chill?” she whisper-yells.

It’s December, and Chastity and I have “hung out” a few times since the party. It’s easy with her. We have fun and then go our separate ways, something that works well for both of us. I hear she’s seen Ted Thompson once or twice, too. They’re one of those hook-up and break-up couples. For all I know she’s using me to make him jealous, but I don’t care. It’s not hard to avoid caring about Chastity. I don’t mean to sound like a jerk. There’s nothing wrong with her. I just don’t give people ways to have any power over me. It’s another one of those Gibson Boys things.

“Yeah. You can come to my house—”

“Mr. Gibson! Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

Yeah, leave it to me to get caught talking by the teacher who never catches anyone. “No, ma’am. I was just taking notes on your discussion, but I missed that last part. I asked Chastity if she caught it.”

I smile and hold up a piece of paper I just started a sketch on. Sketching is way more interesting than history, and I’m better at it, too. I’m always drawing something and tucking it away. I guess you can say it’s my thing. Luckily, another well-known fact about Mrs. Palm, she’s blind as a bat and won’t notice I’m drawing a picture of her rather than taking notes.

“Oh, wonderful! Good for you, Dylan. I’m glad you’re enjoying the discussion.”

Easy as that.

“I guess that means you’ll get the best grade on the class on our next test.”

Shit. Maybe not.

Thankfully the bell rings and I throw my stuff in my bag. It’s last class of the day, which means freedom. I wait for Chastity, and we walk out to my Hummer together.

“God, I love your car.” She climbs in the passenger side, and I jump in the driver’s seat.

“Me, too.”

I rev the engine and pull out. The other cars stay out of my way, because, well, I could run them over if I wanted to.

“I’m supposed to do dinner with Becky and her family tonight,” Chastity says. “Is it okay if she picks me up at your house around five?”

“Yep. Sounds good to me.”

My cell beeps, and I pick it up to see a missed call from Derrick. It’s been a few weeks since we talked, which is strange, but I don’t feel like talking to him in front of an audience. I’ll call him later.

We make it through the Portland streets pretty quickly. Before I know it, we’re in my kitchen. “You want a soda or something—” Chastity’s lips cut me off.

Guess not. Not that I’m complaining, but I wouldn’t have minded a drink and maybe some chips or something first. Then I take over, letting my tongue swirl around in her mouth. She makes this little sighing sound and then slides her hand under the back of my shirt. My stomach growls, and I find myself wishing I’d gotten my snack. Sounds insane, I know. Maybe I’m going insane. What guy would rather eat Doritos than make out with Chastity?

Trying to shake those thoughts from my head, I lean her against the counter and let my mouth slide away from her lips and down her neck.

She. Tastes. Like. Makeup.

Not nearly as good as chips.

And she’s not even wearing as much as party Chastity would. How do I keep doing this? How did I do it so much at the party a few months back? Thinking of the party makes Hanes pop into my head. The girl with the plump lips who looked at me like she either wanted to kiss me or stab me. I’m not even sure she knew which one.

My thoughts switch from her evil eye to her wet shirt. I still can’t believe she wore a T-shirt and faded jeans to my party. I mean, props to her because I don’t know any girl at my school who’d have the confidence to do it, but I’m still shocked. Maybe that’s why I’m shocked. Because the girls I hang out with would not be caught dead in what she wore.

And I still can’t get her out of my head. T-shirt or not, this girl is somehow imprinted on my memory. I’m thinking it’s the whole fact that she didn’t give me the time of day. There’s nothing else it could be.

“Dylan…”

Aaaand, back to reality. What kind of bastard am I? I’m making out with one girl and thinking of another one. My body wills me to ignore it, to keep going because… hormones, hello? But instead, I pull away. I rub the back of my neck.

“Um, you wanna watch a movie or something?”

Chastity cocks her head at me like she’s confused. Then her eyes light up like she’s just been let in on a joke I didn’t know I was telling. “Sure.”

I grab two sodas and some chips and then lead her downstairs to the media room. We toss in a comedy, and I start in on my snack and drink, feeling pretty proud of myself for putting the brakes on things.

Thirty minutes later the food and drink in my hand are replaced with Chastity. Dude, I tried. I swear I tried, but she keeps getting closer and closer, kissing my neck. A man’s only so strong, but I’m still kind of not into it. I keep catching little scenes on the movie, wondering why Derrick called, trying to figure out where the Ho Chi Minh Trail even is. All things that should not be going on in a guy’s head when he’s making out with a girl.

“Dylan? You down there?”

Chastity jumps to the other side of the couch at the sound of Dad’s voice. Yeah, like he doesn’t know what we’re doing down here.

“Yep.”

Dad steps into the room wearing the same suit he wore in court today. He’s a huge defense attorney in Portland. “Oh… hello.” He looks awkwardly at Chastity. “I need to talk to you about your brother, but it can wait.”

This piques my interest. Dad’s never started a sentence with “I need to talk to you about your brother.”

Chastity jumps to her feet. “No! I’m leaving. My friend will be here any minute. Thanks for letting me watch a movie with Dylan, Mr. Gibson.”

I laugh. Dad didn’t let her do anything. He wouldn’t have had a clue she’d even been here if he didn’t need me for something.

“I’ll walk you out.” Then to Dad I say, “Should I just call Derrick? He called me earlier, but I missed it.”

A very noticeable breath deflates Dad’s chest. It makes my heart start to beat a little faster. Something’s wrong. Something Dad doesn’t want to tell me. Just that quickly my stomach churns. The last time Dad told me something he didn’t want to, all our lives changed forever.

“Yeah, yeah. Call your brother. I’ll be upstairs in my office if you need to talk.”

Need to talk? Why would I need to talk?

I rush Chastity to the main floor and outside. Becky pulls up at the perfect time. As she tells me goodbye, I’m already dialing Derrick’s phone number. I’m pacing across one of the only other things Dad’s anal about—his lawn.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” I mumble, all sorts of thoughts pounding in my brain. Derrick’s sick. He’s leaving the country. Something’s wrong with Dad that he can’t tell me.

“Hey, baby brother!”

I let out a breath. He sounds happy. If he sounds happy, nothing can be wrong, right?

“What’s up? Dad was all pale and shit when he said I needed to call you.”

Derrick laughs. “Nothing’s wrong, Lil D. I have good news!”

Lil D. I hate that name. Just because he’s older, he gets to be Big D. Whatever.

“So spill it.” My voice cracks. I’m still nervous. Why am I still nervous?

Through the phone, I hear Derrick take a few breaths. He’s nervous, too. “Dyl, I’m getting married!”

MARRIED? What? It’s worse than I thought. My brother isn’t dying; he’s gone bat-shit crazy.

“Listen, Dylan, I know… Mom and all, but…”

But he doesn’t know. That’s why he doesn’t finish his sentence. If he knew, he wouldn’t be doing this. If he cared, he wouldn’t be doing this. I was wrong. My brother is a sellout. He went back on our pact. He’s going to end up just like Dad.

Unable to hold it back, I drop my cell and puke in Dad’s prized grass. 

Four

~Ziah~

My jaw is like, on the floor. My sister Lora, sophomore in college, is getting married. Married to someone we’ve never met. Because they haven’t been dating all that long. I mean, she stayed in Boulder for summer school and for Thanksgiving, and I guessed it had something to do with the boyfriend. But he was just a boyfriend. Now he’s a fiancé!

What happened to all her lectures? School first, career second, boys third. Always. I’ve looked up to her because of this for years. And I know that seems crazy because I’m dating James, but he and I have the same goals. We’re both going to med school, and we both get how much pressure is on people in our position.

Mom’s smiling in the kitchen, putting dishes away before work. Since she’s a chef, she’s completely meticulous about how things are done, and our kitchen is the biggest and only up-to-date room in the house. Mom’s light brown hair is cut short, and her tiny figure moves through the room with lightning speed. I can’t believe things are still so normal after Lora’s ridiculous decision.

“Mom! How can you be so calm about this?”

“Your sister’s a smart girl.” She shrugs. Shrugs! “Her fiancé Derrick and I talked on the phone, and we had so much to say, we talked for over an hour. He really has his head on straight. And he’s from Portland, too! Isn’t that fun?”

I narrow my eyes. I’m totally suspicious for a million reasons right now. The first one being that Mom’s way too calm about this.

Wait. “Does Dad know?”

She lets out a long sigh. “Of course your father knows.”

I cross my arms and slump down in my stool. I hate being the last to know stuff.

Dad’s an ER doctor at Providence St. Vincent. He loves every second of it, and his job makes me even more determined to go to med school. The problem is that he’s home almost as little as Mom is, so I never know who knows what about whom. I really want Dad on Team Ziah for this one.

“Your sister will be home in a few days for Christmas Break. That’ll give us all a chance to meet him.” She pats my back and walks out of the room. “I’ll be late tonight.”

Isn’t she always?

Maybe I can talk some sense into my sister while she’s here. Christmas break in college is a whole month, so I’ll have a while to talk her out of it. Who gets married in college?

***

Alyssa and I are both on our stomachs in my room over our calculus texts. It seemed like a good idea to take this class at the beginning of the year but not so much anymore. She’s totally absorbed, which is cool, but she’s usually the one turning the music up too loud and teasing me about being so serious.

“Alyssa?”

“Yeah?” She doesn’t look up.

 
“We’re okay, right?” She’s been so… studious. And that’s a little weird. I mean, she’s in hard classes. She just usually floats through them. And here we are a day away from Christmas break, and plowing through another assignment.

“Yeah. I’m just… You know how spacey I can be, and I haven’t always made the best decisions. I’m just trying to get myself on track before college.” She sounds rehearsed and is still working her way through the problem I just finished.

“I still can’t believe we’re in senior year, and I can’t believe my sister thinks she’s getting married.” I blow out to get the loose strands of hair off my face.

Alyssa chuckles. “So, what else is going on tonight?”

“James is coming over in a bit.”

After the party, I was desperate to feel that tingling in my gut I felt with a total stranger, and I started something I didn’t mean to with James. When I met up with him the next day, I kissed him like I hadn’t in a long time and even slid my hands up the back of his shirt. He took that as a sign I wanted to go further, when that wasn’t completely my intention. Ever since he’s been pushing me for more, and it’s not like him. Or like us. I’m starting to miss our comfortable relationship.

“Oh. Right.” Alyssa’s eyes are practically plastered to the problem in front of her.

“Do you suddenly have a problem with James?” I realize it’s been a while since we all three hung out.

“No, why?” She scribbles out the next step in the problem she’s working through.

“I don’t know.” Mostly ‘cause she’s not looking at me, and I don’t know if I’m being paranoid or if they got in an argument or something.

“You’re funny, Ziah. It’s just senior year and busy.” She shrugs before sitting up and closing her text, but she’s also still not looking at me.

“Hey.” James stops the second he’s in my room, and his eyes go from me to Alyssa and then back to me.

“I gotta run. My parents need my babysitting skills tonight.” And Alyssa’s gone before I really have time to process her leaving.

In the next second, James’s lips are on mine.

“Hey.” I laugh as he kisses me again without giving me a chance to breathe. I want to ask him what happened between him and Alyssa, and if I’m going to have to start scheduling around their sudden dislike of each other.

“Hey.” His smile is brief before his lips are on mine again.

For the past month, every time we’re together, he wants to pick up where we left off the last time. If we left off with his hands up the back of my shirt, we’re at that place again within a few minutes of getting together. It doesn’t feel like it’s about me anymore. It feels like it’s about doing more.

His hand slides up the front of my shirt. This is something new as of a few days ago. I don’t stop him, but it doesn’t really do anything for me except make me self-conscious. What does he think about my bra? Are my boobs right? Do they feel like they’re supposed to? Is my skin being pushed or pulled in a way that makes him think I’m fat?

Now his weight is on me, and his mouth is on mine. I should be feeling something more. Like, shouldn’t I want him the way he so obviously wants me?

A horn honks outside, which almost has to mean that Lora’s here.

James groans before rolling off me. “I’ll walk you down.”

He stands and offers me a hand, which I take. His arms go around me again as he pulls me into another kiss.

“James.” I try to pull away. “My sister.”

“Okay, okay…” He clasps my hand tightly as we walk down the stairs.

He stops at the bottom and leans into me. I really just want around him and to see my sister.

“Ziah.” He puts his hands on my face.

I finally relax and look at him, realizing he wants something else before he goes. “James.”

“I love you. I just… I want to try to find some time to be with you over break.” He gives me a soft kiss.

“We’ll see each other.” I shrug and start to move around him again.

“No. You know. Alone.”

Now I get that he wants a few hours where we can fool around. I’m just not sure if I want that right now. Not for that long. “I’ll call you. It’s always busy when Lora’s in town.”

He nods as I finally step around him and out the front door. I think I preferred James when he was more like my old-man boyfriend.

Lora steps out of the passenger’s side of a sleek, black Mercedes, which is a bit unexpected. I didn’t know she’d be arriving in some overpriced, over-glamorized car.
 
Some guy with almost black hair and striking blue eyes steps out of the driver’s side, and this is it. This is the guy. My stomach flips over, and I wish it weren’t too late to run inside and hide.

“Hey!” Lora half talks, half squeals and waves me down the stairs.

I’m frozen.

“Well, see you soon.” James kisses my cheek and runs his hand up the back of my shirt before moving toward the steps. I’m still sort of stunned that the fiancé is real.

Lora and I are almost twins. Her blonde is a shade lighter than mine, and she has Mom’s little button nose instead of Dad’s thin, straight one I got stuck with. But we’re built exactly the same and look one another in the eye. Before I can move down the steps, her and the guy and the first load of bags is on the porch.

It’s so weird that she’s here with a guy she thinks she’s going to marry. Before I can make any smart comments about how much crap he’s unloading for a simple Christmas Break visit, her arms are around me practically suffocating me. He’s back down the stairs for load number two.

James gives me a last wave and smile before climbing into his car. He’s been around long enough to know getting between me and my sister is futile.

“Nice to see you, too.” I try to laugh as she squeezes even tighter before letting me go.

“This is Derrick.” Her smile practically splits her face in half as she grabs his arm and pulls him a step closer to me. “Derrick, this is my little sister Ziah.”

Now is when we should shake. I reach my hand out, and wow does he have blue eyes. Party-boy blue.

“Great to meet you,” he says. It’s a good, firm shake—not too hard, not too soft.

“Yeah. You, too.”

Only I have no idea if it’s great or not. It’s starting to hit me. She wants this guy to be part of our family. Our family. Shouldn’t we all get a say in this? I’m not saying I want an arranged marriage, but I’m now seeing the benefits. It’s not that I don’t like him because I don’t know him. The whole marriage thing feels so irresponsible when they’re both working toward degrees.

“I think we’re all getting together for dinner tonight, so I’ll see you then. I gotta get home.” His smile is equal parts charming and sweet. Of course it is—it took something to lure my sister in. I just thought she was above falling for someone over his looks… and smile. And his handshake, though I’m pretty sure the handshake wasn’t the final sale. I’m starting to deflate further. Or maybe at this point, I’m shrinking.

Lora gives me a look like she wants me to tell her right now how awesome he is, when really all I know about him is he drives a nice car, is strong enough to carry her bags, and is really cute.

“I guess I’ll see you then.” I tuck my hands in my back pockets, because my whole body feels sorta weird—like I don’t belong here. I’m not sure what else to do.

Lora walks him down to his car. When they kiss, they don’t come up for air for so long, it’s a little weird and makes me wish I’d stepped inside the house.

Finally he leaves, and Lora and I are on the porch with her mound of bags and her smile. It’s a toss-up as to which is bigger.

“Wow,” I say, because there really isn’t anything else to say.

“I know!” She digs into the huge bag she’s carried for the past year and sets a stack of bridal magazines between us. “This is going to be so much fun! We have like three hours before dinner, so I thought we could jump in—at least for a while.”

I’m stunned speechless because we haven’t even stepped inside yet, and it’s not exactly warm this time of year. And now there are girlie magazines on our porch.

“So. This is what I want to do.” She opens a magazine to a picture of a bride and groom underneath this elaborate trellis thing that’s covered in those pale pink roses she likes so much. It has a chandelier in the middle. A chandelier.

Derrick must be loaded because there’s no way Mom and Dad would pay for something like that. The whole thing is a little much for me. Way too girly and dramatic.

“Uh…” My thoughts can’t completely come together. Too much fiancé with blue eyes and Alyssa being weird around James and James pushing us to be together and Lora home and this guy going to be part of our family... And her bags are still on the freaking porch.

“Anything we find in all these magazines that matches up with what’s in this picture, we mark. Cool?” Her finger rests on the original photo, and the stack of magazines suddenly looks like a mountain.

“Umm….” She wants me to look for pink flowers? Or what?

“Come on.” She grabs the stack, my arm, and hauls me into the house, leaving her bags outside. “I’ll do up your favorite muffins and hot chocolate. We’ll have so much fun!”

I’m already feeling like I’m caught in this Lora vortex of wedding and new guy and James and… I’m pretty sure I don’t want to be here.

***

I’m stuffed with muffins, and all the magazines are starting to look the same. I flip a page. “Lora! You gotta see this ridiculous article.” I laugh as I slide deeper into the couch.

She primping for the engagement dinner tonight and packing a bag in case she stays over. Which means she’ll definitely stay over. After that kiss next to his car, I’m amazed she was able to be away from him for just a few hours.

“What is it?” she calls down.

“Please don’t yell in the house,” Dad asks.

I jump at the sound of his voice. My parents are so rarely home it throws me when they are. He’s reading in his oversized chair in the corner.

“Sorry.” I slump lower and glance at the article.

“Signs Your Boyfriend is Cheating.” And this in a bridal magazine? Hopefully soon-to-be brides are past this. Only as I read down, I start to get this weird, itchy feeling in my gut as I skim the short, paragraph stories.

My best friend and my boyfriend suddenly couldn’t be in the same room, and my boyfriend was acting different toward me. Turns out they hooked up at a party, and…