More Than Good Enough (11 page)

Pippa tilted her chin down, closing me off. She must’ve sensed that I was someplace else.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered.

“Sorry. I’m a little nervous.”

I stroked the small of her back, tracing circles there. “Do I make you nervous?”

“Only when you do that.”

“I’ll stop, if you want.”

“Don’t. I mean … I don’t want you to stop.”

My hands slid inside her shirt. I kept mumbling stuff like, “You’re so damn pretty.” She told me to keep going. It seemed like the right thing to say. I wanted to feel good, too; but all I felt was confused. And to make things more confusing, I didn’t know why.

On the side of the building, somebody had painted a rocket with the words
U.S. ARMY
printed in capital letters. Under it floated some modern day graffiti.
YUCK
, it said, beside a frowny face with a mouthful of fangs.

Pippa pushed my hands off her. Shoved me, actually. “Do you always kiss with your eyes open?”

“Huh?” I was still looking at the rocket.

“Just be real. Seriously. I can take a hint. If this is too weird—”

“It’s not like that. I mean, shit. I’m sorry.”

What was I sorry for? It seemed like I was always apologizing.

Pippa smoothed her hair into place, tucking a few strands behind her ears. “Let’s just go, okay?”

“Wait. I want to show you something.”

She was halfway to the fence. In other words, back to where we started. “I’ve seen enough.”

“God, you’re so judgmental. It’s like you’re trying to make yourself mysterious.”

“That makes no sense, Trent. How can I ‘make myself mysterious’? It’s not like I’m pretending to be somebody different. Unlike other people I know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Now I was getting pissed.

“This is so wrong.” She grabbed a tissue from her bag and mashed it against her face.

“Talk to me for one second. Please.”

“You’re just using me to get over your ex,” Pippa said.

“That’s totally not true. Don’t even play that.” I reached out for her, but she jerked away as if I were Kryptonite. “You’re being really dramatic over nothing.”

Great. Now she was full-on crying and, of course, it was my fault. I stood there thinking how cute she looked. I wanted to kiss her spiky eyelashes. Hold her until she stopped shaking.

“Can we go back now?” Pippa sniffed.

“Not until you see the best part,” I said, stomping off toward a garage-type building just a few yards ahead. On the ground, you could see wing-shaped dents, as if something heavy had dragged across it a long time ago. So this was the abandoned missile base.

“There’s a door,” I said.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

I jammed my pocketknife into the lock, gave the knob a few twists. Just like magic, it swung open.

“If you think I’m going in there, you’re insane,” Pippa said.

“Suit yourself.” I dipped inside, leaving her alone with the shriveled trees and the vultures swaying on the horizon.

After a few minutes, Pippa couldn’t stand it anymore. She poked her head through the door, blinking against the dimness. It smelled like rusted metal and old things, like air that hadn’t been breathed.

“Trent? If this is your idea of a joke, I’m sure as hell not laughing.”

I turned on my flashlight. A halo bounced on the wall. I flicked it on and off like a strobe effect. “Wooo. It’s a rave party.”

“Stop it,” she said. “You’re giving me a migraine.”

We were in some kind of military hanger. Orange paint flaked off the walls, peeling like a bad sunburn. The ceiling was crisscrossed with aluminum pipes and dangling lamps.

As we staggered forward, I bumped into a traffic cone. I crushed it under my sneaker. The cone fell sideways in front of us. “Get up,” I shouted at it. “You can do it. Don’t lose hope now.”

Pippa was edging toward the door. I turned the flashlight off, leaving us in a blackness so heavy it was almost solid. For a second, I couldn’t catch my breath. The dark had knocked it out of me.

“I can see you smiling.” I grabbed her waist.

“If you don’t let go in two seconds … ”

I clicked the flashlight on. We both stared at the wall, where a poster of the Statue of Liberty stared back. Her lower half had peeled off, leaving curls of masking tape.

“Don’t worry, girl.” I tightened my hold around her waist. “You’re safe with me.”

Pippa jabbed her elbow into my ribs.

I grunted and finally dropped her. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“Because you’re being a jerk.”

I stood there, rubbing my chest, as if she had inflicted real damage. “We should probably jet. Unless you want to get lung cancer from the asbestos.”

“Right,” she said, heading straight for the door. Beside the handle was a sign chiseled with faded warnings:
IN CASE OF ELECTRIC SHOCK, USE WOODEN POLE OR ROPE TO REMOVE VICTIM
.

“Wrong way.” I jabbed my thumb in the other direction.

Pippa followed me into the sunlight. I was still thinking about that kiss. This wasn’t just any random girl. If I messed up with Pippa, I’d be losing a lot more. Was it worth crossing out of the friend zone? At that moment, I couldn’t decide.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

We listened.

I heard two things: the blood punching into my fingertips and the beat of my sneakers as they sliced through the grass.

“Um. Not really,” I said. “Did you take your anti-zombie meds today?”

“Right on schedule.” She stuck out her tongue.

“Great. Just what I needed to know.”

“Well, you’re acting like a complete psycho. Can we go now?”

“Wait up.” I thrust an arm in front of her. “Swear to God, I just heard this crazy noise.”

“Like what exactly?”

I shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you.”

“Well, that really makes me feel better.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen. I’ve got it all under control. You know. Making the magic happen.” I tossed my backpack on the ground and felt around inside. My fingers brushed against metal. The handle almost felt like a toy, but it was real.

“Where did you get that thing?” Pippa asked. “Did you think we’d be gang-banging in the Everglades? Even rappers couldn’t get away with that crap.”

“It’s my dad’s. When I turn twenty-one, I’m getting it registered in my name.” I wrapped it in a sweatshirt.

“Please explain why you’re carrying a loaded weapon in your backpack.”

“It’s not loaded.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Want me to show you?”

She shook her head. “I’ll pass.”

We walked to the fence, where my army jacket slumped like a dead body. Almost an hour ago, we’d been having fun. Now this entire day had gone to hell.

I crammed my foot in the chain-link and pulled myself over. Pippa took her sweet time, but she made it down first. I was at the top of the fence, trying to yank my jacket from the barbed wire, but it was stuck. I kept tugging until it ripped free.

“That didn’t sound good,” Pippa said. “Is there a merit badge for sewing? Or maybe you could borrow my Hello Kitty stapler.”

“Shut up.” I threw the shredded jacket toward the weeds. It cartwheeled in mid-air and landed with a flop. The more I tried not to laugh, the worse it got. Then we both cracked up.

“You’re so evil,” I said.

Pippa smiled. “I try.”

Near the road, a couple of egrets swooped and took off, flapping without a sound. No sign of the Kawasaki.

“It’s gotta be somewhere,” I muttered.

We pushed back the sawgrass. The jagged leaves stung like a paper cut. I kept looking, though we both knew what I didn’t say out loud. The bike was gone.

After what seemed like forever, I finally gave up. I grabbed a rock and pitched it at a stump. “My dad’s gonna rip me a new one.”

“Let’s ask the ranger at the front entrance,” Pippa said.

I scanned the horizon, half-expecting the vultures to lift us into the sky. “That’s seven miles from here. We’re basically screwed. In a couple hours, this place will be so dark even a flashlight won’t help.”

“Are you serious? What are we supposed to do now?”

“Start walking.”

We headed back. Pippa had dragged the camera around all afternoon, yet we’d hardly shot any footage for the so-called Life Portrait documentary. I slid the bag off her shoulder and lifted the camera from its plastic case.

“At least get a light reading first,” Pippa muttered.

“It’s okay,” I said, though I knew she was right. I aimed the lens at her face. The sun was streaming in geometric angles behind her. She was sunburned and sweaty and so amazingly beautiful.

“The focus is off,” she said. “You didn’t even measure it.”

“You’re no fun.”

“What am I? The entertainment committee?”

“Not even close.”

“You’re no wilderness man, either. That’s pretty obvious. Bet you couldn’t even start a fire with a dead twig.”

“Out here? Number one, it’s too damp. Number two, I’d have the whole tribe on my ass. They’ve got their own police force and everything.”

“So whose side are you on?” she asked.

I lowered my head. I wanted to scream at her, throw stuff, go crazy. Instead, we both stayed quiet. That was the worst part.

Finally, I let her have it. “What a shitty thing to say, Pippa.”

“I’m sorry. God. I didn’t … I mean, it didn’t come out right. That was so wrong. I wasn’t trying to put you down.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s not what it sounded like.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Maybe I should just staple my mouth shut.”

“For the record, I’m not about choosing sides.”

“I know.” Pippa stared at the ground. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Okay.” Here it comes.

“I see two people in front of me,” she said, “and I don’t know which is real. When we started hanging out again, I thought you were really cool. I mean, you didn’t judge me or anything. Now it feels like you’ve changed. Like you’re afraid of getting close to people. Or you think you’re not good enough.”

“It sucks that you see me like that.”

“True. But guess what? You’re more than good enough,” she said, and for a moment, I almost believed it.

nine

Me and Pippa sat on this decrepit bench near the ranger station, waiting for a human to show up. I wanted to kiss her again, but she wouldn’t even look at me. One minute, she’s all into it. The next minute, she’s acting like it never happened. I had no clue what was in her brain.

“Maybe we should call your dad,” she said.

I tried messing with my cell. No signal. Anyway, I didn’t plan on talking to Dad. He was the last person I wanted to deal with.

The shack was locked. I squinted through the window. On the desk, somebody had left a mug full of pencils, a Sudoku Magic puzzle, and a cigar smushed in a skull-shaped ashtray.

“Don’t stress,” I told Pippa. “He’s coming back. Trust me.”

We waited. I could only hope it was a ranger who’d dragged the bike off.

He finally materialized a half hour later. He was a little dude, sweat stains circling his arms, and he looked pissed.

“You guys have some explaining to do,” he said. It sounded like
’splaining
.

I slid off the bench. “Why?”

“Because there’s been a theft on the property and we have reason to believe you’re involved.”

“Right. Somebody stole my bike.”

The ranger craned his neck, glaring up at me. “You’re Trent Osceola?”

“Aye, captain.”

“Your father called Flamingo,” he said, meaning the park’s main entrance. “Figured you’d be out here. Told us to keep an eye peeled.”

“Whatever,” I said. “Give me the bike and we’ll go.”

“He’s at the front office.”

“He is?”

Dad wasn’t supposed to drive. Did he take the Yeti? Of course he did. No doubt he was drunk off his ass. That’s for sure. I glanced over at Pippa. She was scraping at her thumbnail, stripping off flakes of glittery black polish.

“You better come with me,” the ranger said.

I didn’t argue.

He drove us to the office in his stupid SUV, the bumper plastered with
Go Green!
bumper stickers. So much for Mother Earth. When he spotted Pippa’s camera tucked between her feet, he went ballistic.

“Did you guys take movies inside the park?”

Pippa tried to nudge the camera deeper under the seat. “We only shot one roll.”

“No filming without a permit,” he said in this dead monotone, like he was hypnotized. He thumped the dashboard. “Don’t you know it’s against the law?”