Maine Squeeze (54 page)

Having sexually satisfied grandparents is not a bad thing at all!

Happy New Year!

Sad, isn't it? The beginning for some is the end for many. Like this sketchbook. Only 5 pages left and I have to cram in everything that happened and then put you in a time capsule so someone can find you in 50 years. Like they'd want to.

Better make it 100 years—that way I won't be around when it's opened. Spare me the pain and humiliation. Decompose or something, will you?

Well, the party went great. Mrs. Martinez made an announcement about everything that had happened with student council, and she said how I'd managed to turn lemons into lemonade and the next thing I knew she had appointed me interim president, meaning I'll probably get to keep the job and run student council for the rest of the year. Everyone cheered. It was unbelievable.

I knew Tom was at the party somewhere, hiding in a coat room or a locker or something. He'd come out when Mrs. Martinez wasn't around to yell at him. I just didn't want to see him.

Random Nosebleed was awesome. Everyone danced. Jane, Beth, and I danced together, like usual. Bryan sprained his ankle running the other day, so he was out of commission. Which was cool, not that I want him to be hurt, but it was fun to just be the three of us.

“You really made this happen,” Jane said.

“The lead singer keeps checking you out,” I told her.

“He's cute,” she said. “I want his leather jacket.”

“Okay …” I said. It was this scuffed-up thing that looked like it had been run over by a truck and then singed with cigarette burns.

When the clock struck midnight the band threw all these noseplugs and little packets of Kleenex into the crowd—that's their trademark. Jane, Beth, and I hugged each other, and then the crowd broke up.

When I was leaving, Grant stopped me. I'd been avoiding him all night. I couldn't ask him out again, it nearly killed me the first time.

So now he asked me if I wanted to go to the zoo with him. I said we couldn't; it was closed. But I had another idea. I told him we should wait until tomorrow though, (or at least later today) (technically) because New Year's Eve is a really bad time to drive anywhere.

Then he asked if I wanted to go skiing New Year's Day, so I said yes. “Just like that? Yes?” He was pretty much stunned. So was I. I never say “yes” without thinking something through.

Running out of space here and will have to keep this brief. Or insert extra pages.

I picked up Grant yesterday morning, but then told him he had to drive. Not having much luck lately in that department, why risk it?

“We're taking this car. Into the mountains?” He gave the Bull a disparaging look.

“I know, I know, it's hideous and skids easily. But it does have a ski rack,” I pointed out.

We went to Breckenridge and skied and boarded. So much fun, I couldn't believe it, like I hadn't really been outside in months. Of course, I hadn't. Really. Unless you count commuting and driving, being stuck in hailstorms and snowdrifts. We only skied for a few hours, but it felt great.

New Year's Resolution: Cut back on hours at work. Add hours outdoors. Break it to Gerry gently, though.

After skiing we were driving back on I-70 and I made Grant stop to see the buffalo.

Resolution Two: Organize school event involving saving more buffalo in the wild. Perhaps free the buffalo at the Denver Zoo. Which reminded me.

“I still want to see the polar bears,” I said. “It isn't that far out of the way, right?” Actually it was quite a few miles away from our neighborhood, but I didn't want the day to end.

We were there at 4:00 when the sky got dark and they turned the holiday lights on; it's this thing they do every year, and you walk through and see all these cool light displays in the shapes of animals. Tonight was the final night—they held it over longer than usual because the weather has been so unusually crappy lately and people had stayed home. And they turned the lights on early so you could see lights plus animals. Perfect.

First we went to the Northern Shores area, where all the Arctic animals are. We still had our skiing clothes on so we looked sort of Arctic ourselves. We checked out the polar bears right off. Two little ones were walking around the display, and the mother was swimming.

Every time I said something about them, from what I'd learned on TV, Grant would say something, too. Like we'd watched all the same shows. And we both knew they were only a pound or two when they were born and that they make a loud noise like bees buzzing when they nurse and how their fur is hollow like straw and that the adults don't eat for several months every year while they're waiting for Hudson Bay to freeze up so they can walk on it.

I was so excited to be there with someone who actually
got it
. Who cared. The cubs started playing, and I grabbed Grant's arm.

Then he put his hand over my hand. I was getting really nervous, I was afraid the polar bears would sense it and freak out.

“Come on, let's go see something else,” I said, dragging Grant away.

“Okay …” he said.

We were going down this path admiring more of the lights when we saw the biggest light of all, this giant giraffe, towering into the sky. And who was sitting at the bottom of it, gazing up at it, looking forlorn?

OSCAR!!!!!!!!!

Grant talked to him nicely, in this quiet voice, very calm—like that guy who whispers to horses. He got close enough to pet Oscar on the head, then he grabbed his neck—gently, of course. We got him! Once Oscar knew it was us he jumped up on me and licked my face.

I was so happy I threw my arms around him and kissed him.

Not Oscar this time—Grant. He looks a lot more huggable these days.

He kissed me back. He kept kissing me. And it felt incredible. And I didn't even have my pager on.

We walked to the car sort of hugging, our arms around each other, with Oscar trotting between us. I kept wondering how Oscar ended up way over here, and Grant asked if we ever lived near here, and I said no. And how come he hadn't been picked up by the zoo? What if he got into a fight with an exotic animal?

“It's Oscar,” Grant said. “I'm sure he ran away whenever anyone tried to catch him—animal or human.”

“They could have used a tranquilizer dart!” I said.

“He's a dog, Courtney. And let's face it, people care a lot more about exotic animals than they do about plain old dogs like Oscar.” He started going on and on about how when he becomes a vet, he's going to spend all his time and money on educating people on how to treat their pets, he has horror stories from working at Pet Me blah blah blah.

It was all fascinating, and I agreed with him a hundred percent and admired him even more than before. But I wanted to get back to making out.

So, okay. I only have one page left. And I know I said I wouldn't go out with any guys this year, that I pledged this back in September. And it might seem like I broke my pledge. A little bit.

But if you think about it, technically I did make it through “the year” without dating. You know—because I didn't say I meant the academic year. I meant until the end of the
calendar
year, and this is a new year, right?

Oh wait. I just found my old floral diary where I made that so-called pledge. I did say something about not dating anyone “senior year.”

Who cares?

I'll just rename the next several months precollege-freshman year.

That is, if I get into a college.

If I don't end up being the poster girl for Truth or Dairy.

Which reminds me. I'm late for work. Gerry's going to give me another motivational speech about promptness being related to smoothieness, and I don't think I can stand listening to that again. I'd better go.

Resolution Three: Never be late to work again.

I hope WWW comes in today. When she reminds me to have safe sex, I will just say yes with a smile. Maybe give her an extra wheatgrass punch on her card.

Resolution Four: Go to First National Blanks on the way home from work and pick out a new journal. Am ending this one just when things are getting (more) interesting.

www.chelseypaul.com

CATHERINE CLARK is the author of
PICTURE PERFECT, WISH YOU WERE HERE, SO INN LOVE, THE ALISON RULES,
and many others. She lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. For more about Catherine and her books, and the occasional milk shake recipe, visit www.catherineclark.org.

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ALSO BY CATHERINE CLARK

Picture Perfect

Rocky Road Trip

Better Latte Than Never

Wish You Were Here

So Inn Love

Icing on the Lake

The Alison Rules

Cover art © 2011 by Getty Images/Plush Studios

HarperTeen is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

Maine Squeeze

Copyright © 2004 by Catherine Clark

Banana Splitsville

(Previously published as Truth or Dairy)

Copyright © 2000 by Catherine Clark

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Library of Congress catalog card number: 2010938191

ISBN 978-0-06-206489-9

EPub Edition © JULY 2012 ISBN 9780062044532

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