More Than Good Enough (16 page)

No way could I march up to her front porch and knock. Not after all the drama that went down with my dad. I could only imagine her mom’s reaction when the cop drove Pippa home. It made me sick, the more I thought about it.

I couldn’t knock on the door. So I did what I used to do in fifth grade. I searched in the grass for the smoothest rock I could find. Then I drew a smiley face on it with my Sharpie and dropped the rock close to shore. That way, Pippa would know I’d been there.

“You forgot to write a message.”

She was standing near the water. For once she wasn’t all dressed up, wearing stuff that reminded me of a costume. Just her Jack Skellington hoodie and jeans. Not skinny jeans, like 90 percent of the female population at school. And I couldn’t help thinking that she’d never looked more beautiful.

Maybe my dad was right. I was an idiot. Because only an idiot would think they had a chance with this amazing girl. I wanted to hold her forever, block out the world and make the bad things go away.

Pippa stuffed the rock in her back pocket. “Bet you didn’t know. I saved them all. My favorite one said,
The stars are already ghosts
. Those little messages were so cool, Trent. Almost like song lyrics.”

“I suck at writing lyrics.”

“Who told you that?”

“Myself.”

“You should stop listening to that guy.”

“Good idea.”

We walked to the front yard, past the rusty swingset. The Yeti was parked a couple feet away. Yeah, it wasn’t exactly in stealth mode.

“I saw your headlights,” she said. “It freaked me out be-cause I was watching this old movie about a car that’s, like, possessed or something. Why are you here, anyway?”

“Does that mean you’re not excited to see me?”

“No, I’m very excited,” she said. “Oh my god. Sorry. My bad. That sounded really weird.”

“It’s all good,” I said. “Hey, I can’t believe you saved those stupid rocks. You could make a necklace out of them.”

“True. But I’m allergic to jewelry. Thanks for coming over to rescue me. That’s why you’re here, right?”

“Any time, homeslice. You know what this means, right? Now you owe me a ‘life debt.’ That’s the samurai code,” I said, smoothing her hair away from her face. “What color is this exactly?”

“Ultra violet.”

“I might want to dye my hair violet someday.”

“That was some serious random.” Pippa laughed.

Why couldn’t it be this easy all the time? Standing in her front yard, surrounded by all those perfect lawns, it felt like we’d never stopped talking. When we were together, the conversation always picked up where we left off.

“I’ve been calling like crazy, trying to reach you,” I said. “Kind of stalkerish, I know.”

“My phone’s been out of action, thanks to my mom’s insane paranoia. Me and her got into it. It was pretty bad.” She didn’t explain more. There were no words to erase what happened.

“Let’s chill in the Yeti,” I said, folding her hand around mine. “No reason to broadcast this data.” I walked her to the passenger side. When we reached the door, her shoulder bumped mine. “Ladies first,” I said.

“So do I need a password to get in?”

“Nah. You’re a VIP,” I said as she climbed in. I scooted in my side, but she was miles away, sinking into her own personal black hole. “Sorry,” I finally said.

“For what?”

“For everything. I didn’t want you to see that shit.”

“Actually, it’s not your fault, Trent. Don’t even go there. And for the record, I’m not into judging people for stuff they have no control over.”

“I know. But your family doesn’t act like that. They’re normal. I mean, you’re so lucky. You have no idea.”

“‘Normal’ doesn’t happen in real life. It only makes sense in the movies. Like, if you’re driving along a deserted road in a thunderstorm, there’s always a motel at the next exit. But it’s usually haunted.”

“Or populated by axe-wielding serial killers,” I said, pushing my seat back.

“Or both.”

“The Miccosukees don’t believe in curses,” I said. “You’re in charge of your own life, right? Nothing can mess with you. Not unless you let it.”

I wasn’t sure if I believed in that stuff. What did I know about my Miccosukee family? Alligator keychains and beaded moccasins, my uncle’s wrestling show for the tourists with their cameras, ready to catch their twenty-dollar glimpse of the real Florida.

“How often does your dad freak out like that?” Pippa seemed embarrassed, asking this question.

“He’s never hit me before, if that’s what you mean.”

“What are you going to do now?”

I looked away. “I don’t know.”

“You can’t stay there, Trent. He’ll do it again.”

“He was drunk, okay? Things got out of control.”

Back when we used to listen for the Wendigo, I couldn’t imagine anything more dangerous than a flesh-eating monster. Now I knew the world was so much scarier than any creature I’d shaped inside my mind.

Pippa sighed. “It’s pretty obvious you’re defending him.”

“So what? He’s still my dad. What the hell am I supposed to do? The cops don’t care. This isn’t the first time they’ve come to his house.”

“It isn’t?”

I shook my head. “It’s usually the people down the street, calling in a noise complaint or whatever. But I guess murderers and drug dealers take priority over drunks.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “I’m really sorry. This sucks so bad.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry.”

“I wanted to show you things,” I said, tracing her knee.

“You did.”

I tipped my face against her neck, inhaling the peppery scent of her skin. Then we were kissing again. I slid my fingers toward her waist, just resting them there as we held each other. The backyard turned quiet and empty, like something you don’t notice until it’s gone.

thirteen

She owned me.

If this girl told me to jump into Biscayne Bay, take a flying leap off the causeway, and swim with the sharks, I would have done it. Gladly. There was no way to explain it. I’d been spinning my wheels. Looking for what? I couldn’t tell you. Now I was in the safest place I knew. Damn, it felt good, holding her close.

I tugged the zipper on her sweatshirt and slid my hands inside. I wanted to feel her skin. I tilted back the seat as Pippa straddled my lap. She sank down, pressing her hips against me as I shifted my weight and prayed I didn’t explode. I tried to concentrate on the seat buckle digging into my biceps, the distant wail of a car alarm toggling between octaves. Anything to keep my dark energy under control.

Yeah, I was losing it.

Big time.

Michelle had never kissed me like that. I don’t even think she liked kissing. I know it’s not cool to rate your ex. Don’t get me wrong—the sex was really hot. I’m talking off-the-charts hot, like, sex in the key of awesome. But let’s be honest. Even off-the-charts sex gets boring after a while, if that’s all you’ve got.

At first, it seemed like Pippa was into it. We were sweating like crazy and the windows were all smeared up. Then she put on this self-conscious act, which I wasn’t buying for one second. If you look that good, you have to know it. And the stuff she normally wore was far from nun-like.

“What happened to your tights?” I whispered.

“My tights? I didn’t feel like wearing them, I guess. What’s wrong with jeans?”

“Nothing. I like you in jeans.”

She gave me this hurt look, as if I’d slapped her. God. Say something nice and she takes it as a put-down.

I leaned in for another kiss, but she turned and I ended up with my face in her hair. My usual moves had zero effect. I tried digging my thumbs into her shoulders, rubbing circles around her pressure points—a shiatsu technique I learned from this paperback I’d found lying around my mom’s house
, Oriental Massage for Therapeutic Touch.
I’d skip over the New Age garbage about unblocking your chi and flip to the good parts, all those full-color pictures of sleepy-looking girls lying half-naked on their stomachs.

Pippa moved my hands away. “This is getting too intense.”

Talk about stating the obvious. My brilliant suggestion? “We could go somewhere. It’s your call. Whatever you want to do.”

“I don’t want to do anything.”

Okay.

The front yard wasn’t exactly a VIP lounge. “Maybe we could walk around?” As soon as the words fell out, I knew she would laugh.

“Walk … where exactly?” She glanced out the window. Nothing but pavement and the constant push-pull of headlights. What the hell was I thinking? I felt bad about dragging her into this situation. Pippa was more the stay-at-home and watch-movies-on-demand kind of girl. Actually, that sounded cool to me.

“This Michelle person … ” She trailed off.

“You hate me, right? I can totally feel the hate rays,” I said.

“I don’t hate you, Trent. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.”

“I’m not with her anymore, if that’s what you mean.”

“Really? I didn’t get that impression from your dad.”

“It’s over. In fact, it’s been over for like … centuries.”

Pippa didn’t look convinced. “You’re friends then?”

“I’ve got enough friends, thank you very much.”

“Friends with benefits?”

Whoa. I didn’t see that coming.

Might as well tell the truth.

I took a breath and let it out. “We hooked up at my dad’s house. This was before you came along. Yeah, sleeping with my ex. Probably not the smartest decision. Whatever. It just happened.”

“So that makes it okay?”

“It won’t happen again. That’s a promise.”

“You shouldn’t make promises,” she said. “Not unless you really mean it.”

Now I was getting heated. “Come on, Pippa. Don’t act so perfect. Sometimes there’s, like, no clear line when you’re breaking up. Know what I mean?”

Pippa kept staring out the window. “No. I don’t.”

That’s when it hit me. Oh my god. How could I be so dense?

“So you haven’t … ”

She looked straight into my eyes. I had no doubt when she said, “I’m still a virgin.”

The word dangled between us. It sounded weird, hearing it out loud, like from a fairy tale of the Middle Ages, the “virgin princess” locked in a castle. Or a saint who gets burned at the stake just because they believed in something.

Pippa wasn’t a saint or a stuck-up princess.

She was the realest person I knew.

She was also really sexy, in the coolest way possible. In other words, she didn’t have to try.

“You want to ditch me now? Let’s get it over with,” she said.

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know.” She twisted her necklace—one of those vending machine prizes made of rainbow candy.

“Did somebody do that to you?” I asked.

She didn’t answer my question. Then again, she didn’t have to.

“Well,” I said. “Whoever he is … I’d like to break his face.”

“That’s kind of unnecessary.”

“I’ll hold him down and you can go first,” I said, punching the air. “We could charge admission. What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy.” She laughed.

At least I got her to smile again.

“That guy was an asshole. I can’t justify his actions,” I told her. “But please don’t think all guys are like that.”

“I’m starting to believe you.”

“Good. Because he didn’t realize what he had. Even more, he didn’t deserve it.”

We hugged for the longest time. It was the kind of hug that belongs in its own category. I didn’t want it to end. Then she pulled away and we were sitting in the car again, doing nothing.

“I have to go,” she said. “I’ve got school tomorrow.” The lamest of excuses.

“Right. Except tomorrow is already today.”

I was still thinking about Pippa’s hit-and-run guy. He’d left damage without actually touching her or anything. Call it psychological warfare.

“I’m guessing you’re suspended? I mean, are you ever coming back?” she asked, breaking my trance.

School was another dimension. How was it supposed to prepare you for real life? It sure as hell wasn’t helping me. Then I remembered the stupid film project we were supposed to finish together. I couldn’t leave her stuck like that.

“Yeah, I have to stay home til Friday,” I told her. “It’s kind of idiotic, if you think about it. They won’t let me go to class because … I didn’t go to class. Don’t worry, though.
I’ll be back
,” I said in my fakest Austrian accent.

She busted out another giggle. I loved that she cracked up so easily (whether my jokes were actually funny or not). There were no games with Pippa. That’s what slayed me. We always laughed at the same things. When I was little, I used to think girls were special. Now I knew the truth—they were just as messed up as the rest of us.