Pivot Point (12 page)

I smile at him. “No, I’m good.”

When he comes back, he sits right next to me and I realize the real reason he stood. Subtle. He reaches across me and grabs a handful of popcorn.

I take the bowl and put it between us, scooting over to make room, and then say, “Play.” The movie starts. His arm goes to the back of the couch, and as we watch the movie, his fingers find my blue strip of hair and gently pull on the ends of it. I have to resist the urge to melt into him. I try to pretend like I’m following the movie and I laugh whenever Duke does. In reality, I have no idea what it’s even about.

When the popcorn is gone, Duke moves the bowl to the coffee table and settles in closer to me. He drapes his arm around my shoulders, and this time his fingers trace a pattern on my upper arm. Every nerve ending in my body comes to life. It doesn’t even seem like he is consciously aware of his actions, because he intently watches the TV. It reminds me that he probably does this kind of stuff all the time with girls. The thought sends me plummeting off the cloud I’d been floating on for the last hour.

I stand. “I have to use the bathroom.”

In the restroom, I turn off the water’s motion-sensor device, then step into the tub. I pull the shower curtain closed, as if that will help muffle the sound of my voice, and dial Laila’s number.

“Hey, girl,” she answers.

“Remind me of who I am.”

“Excuse me?”

“I hate obvious boys. Tell me that.”

“You hate obvious boys. Because heaven forbid you like something that everyone else does. If you don’t have to hunt for it, and carefully plan its capture, it must not be worth having.”

I ignore the fact that she just made a guy sound like a prize elk and say, “No, it’s not that. It’s that if everyone else likes something, that something usually knows it and has a huge head because of it. The things I have to hunt for don’t even realize how awesome they are.” I take a deep breath now that I’ve remembered myself.

“Do you feel better?”

I shift and lean my shoulder against the wall. The faucet in the shower has a leak, something my dad didn’t fix before leaving, and a drop of water lands on my foot. I use my other foot to dry it. “Yes. Much better.”

“But there’s an exception to your rule.”

“What?” Another drop lands on my foot, so I move back a little.

“Not what, who. Duke Rivers. I think you’re kind of into him, and he’s more obvious than any boy I’ve ever met.”

“He totally is,” I say. “He’s hot and the most popular guy in school and over-the-top charming. I don’t think there’s a single girl who would meet him and not wish she could be with him. So obvious.”

“And you have to stick by your principles. I mean, sure they’re based on punishing a guy just because he’s too perfect, but whatever.”

“No, you have to help me talk myself out of him, not into him.”

“I thought you were grounded. How are you calling me?”

“I thought I was grounded too, but my mom let him in.”

“Who in?”

“Duke,” I say with a sigh.

“Duke’s in your house, and you’re talking to me?”

“Yes.”

“Leaving now. Oh, next time we talk, remind me to tell you about the football schedule. And there’s nothing wrong with obvious boys, Addie.” The line goes dead.

I shove the phone in my pocket and walk back out.

Duke says, “Pause,” and the movie goes quiet. “What did Laila say?”

I stand over him, staring at his perfect smile. I take in his eyes that I’ve never allowed myself to look at for very long. They’re crystal blue and hold mine intently. “She said you’re too obvious,” I say quietly.

He runs a hand through his hair and sends another waft of clean-soap scent my way. “I’ve tried subtle before. I’m not very good at it.”

I laugh. He couldn’t be subtle if he tried. I sit back down next to him.

He looks at the television. “Which part did you leave off on? I’ll skip back.”

“I—uh.”

“Had the guy revealed his ability yet?”

If I confess I have no clue, he’ll know he’s been a distraction. I bite my lip. “No, he hadn’t.”

“Okay, cool. This part is really good. Scene Menu.” The scenes come up in little boxes on the screen. “Scene twenty. Play.” For the first time, I notice Duke’s lips are quite full. “Are you watching?” He glances my way and catches me staring. I avert my gaze to the TV, but it’s too late, he’s already caught me. He lets out a low chuckle. “You like your guys obvious, huh?”

“No, actually, I usually don’t.”

“Usually?” His hand goes to my neck before I answer. Tingles spread from his fingertips all the way down my spine. As his fingers weave themselves into my hair, I try to maintain clarity.

“What about you? What’s your type?” I ask.

“I thought that was obvious.”

He pulls me toward him and when his lips touch mine, I try not to audibly sigh. I can’t help it though, and he chuckles again, against my mouth. In the back of my mind I still wonder if we’re right for each other, but the rest of my mind doesn’t seem to care.

NORM•games
:
n.
strangely foreign, slightly lame, and yet unexplainably compelling rites of passage in the Normal world

Back in the theater, I let go of Trevor’s arm. Our entry is accompanied by the horrified screams of really bad actors. I glance up at the screen in time to see the decaying face of the lead zombie. This movie is so dumb.

Once I’ve taken my seat, Rowan leans in. “Are you sick or something?”

“No, I’m okay.”
And I’ll be even better once I tell Trevor that he doesn’t need to set me up with his friends.

After the movie, I turn my back on Rowan to exit to my left. I hope he follows Lisa, Brandon, and the others who are leaving the opposite way. He doesn’t.

“That was the lamest movie ever,” he says behind me.

“I’ve seen lamer,” Stephanie says, and even though we’re standing, she’s cuddled up to Trevor’s arm.

“Remember that werewolf movie we saw last year?” Trevor says. “That was worse than this.”

I have no idea which movie they’re talking about, so I keep my mouth shut. We get new movies way before they come out here.

“I don’t know,” Rowan disagrees, squeezing himself alongside me. “That had the scene where the three wolves fought the big wolf, and that totally redeemed it. Well, until Stephanie’s screams ruined it all.”

“Oh, shut up, Rowan,” she says, with an eye roll.

I take a few steps closer to Stephanie so that she’ll turn and start to walk. It seems to work, and soon we’re standing outside the theater by the fountain again.

“Okay, who’s up for the dessert game?” Rowan asks.

Brandon and Lisa—who are holding hands—laugh, and he says, “We’re in.”

Two other guys, Liam and Jason, both nod their agreement.

“Okay, you guys are one car then. Me, Addison, Stephanie, and Trevor will be another car. Katie and Sarah, which car do you want to join?”

“I’m out. My mom’s making me wake up early tomorrow to visit my dad,” Katie says.

Sarah grabs Katie’s arm. “And she’s my ride, so you guys have fun.”

Rowan points both his thumbs down in disapproval. “Just stay up all night, and you won’t have to wake up early.”

“Whatever.” Katie hits his arm. “See you Monday.”

I watch them leave and wait for Rowan to explain what’s going on. When he doesn’t, I ask, “What’s the dessert game?”

“Whoever brings back the best dessert wins.”

“What’s the catch?” There’s always a catch.

Rowan smiles. “That car is going to tell us where we have to go to find the dessert. It has to be one of our houses.”

Brandon points to me. “We pick Addison’s house, because she had no idea about this game so she wouldn’t have stocked up.”

Rowan lets out a low grunt. “Well, we pick Jason’s, because his brothers always eat everything in the house.”

“Wait, we’re going to my house?” I ask.

“Just for a minute to raid your fridge and cupboards. Then we’ll meet back here, and whoever has the best dessert wins.”

“Wins what?” This game sounds like something the guys made up to get free dessert.

“The right to be the darers and not the darees.”

“Rowan in the fountain last week,” Lisa says, “his team lost the dessert game.”

“I still think I won that night,” Rowan says. “Five bucks.”

“And an amazing rent-a-cop parking-lot chase,” Lisa says. “It was pretty awesome.”

It did sound kind of funny. I find myself nodding.

“Okay.” Brandon looks at his watch. “We meet back here in thirty minutes exactly. Pictures for proof, and cheaters automatically lose.” The second he finishes his sentence everyone runs for the cars, except me, of course. I’m a beat behind, trying to play catch-up.

By the time I get to Trevor’s car, it’s already running and Stephanie is in the passenger seat. I climb in back and buckle in.

“So what do you have at your house? Any good treats?” Rowan asks, leaning toward me.

The fact that Rowan is about to find out where I live is just now sinking in. “No. We have nothing. Really, my dad is a health nut. Why don’t we just go to the store instead?”

Stephanie turns around. “We have to take a picture with a cell phone of us inside your house holding whatever we find. If we don’t, we automatically lose.”

“Nobody knows what my house looks like. And we’re going to lose anyway,” I say. “We might as well try.”

Rowan laughs. “I like this girl. She’s a rule breaker.”

“No. I’m really not,” I say too quickly. I don’t want him to get any more ideas. Trevor’s eyes find mine in the rearview mirror. I’m trying to give him the please-come-up-with-a-different-plan look. Laila would know the look.

“We can go to my house instead,” Trevor offers. “I think there’s half a cherry pie in the fridge.” I smile. Perfect.

“No,” Stephanie says with a pout. “Everyone knows what the inside of your house looks like. Come on, I don’t want to be on the wrong end of Lisa’s dare. She’ll make me do something really bad.”

Trevor tries to hold my gaze in the rearview mirror again, probably hoping I’ll give him the okay. I shrug. If he wants to pacify his little girlfriend, I guess I don’t want to ruin it for him.

The rest of the ride I look out the window to my right. It slowly turns white from the hot air inside the car. I run my finger along the smooth glass, drawing my standard doodle—a line that halfway up splits in two. Then I circle the pivot point. The point right before the path separates. I press my finger into the center. One little choice can make all the difference.

The phone in my pocket chimes. It’s Laila.
Have you ditched the hairless cat yet?

No,
I text back,
we’re actually on our way to my house.

You’ve decided to make him your pet? Not exactly what I had in mind, but that works.

I smile.

“So this is it, huh?” Rowan asks, pulling my attention away from my phone and to my single-story, white house. The front porch light seems too inviting for this moment. We all get out of the car and walk the cement, shrub-lined path to my front door.

At first I widen my eyes, prepared for a scan, but then I remember the keys in my pocket. “Oh. Keys.” I bring them out. There are three. One is for my dad’s car, one is for the mailbox, and the other is for the front door. I know I’m staring at them too long, but I can’t remember which one is which. I need to label them.

“Sorry,” I say, trying to fit one into the lock and missing the slot a few times. It’s so small.

“Need some help?” Rowan asks with a laugh.

“No, I got it.” Finally the second key works. We need a Norm-training class at the Compound on opening historical locks. It’s harder than it looks.

When we walk in, my dad glances over from where he sits in the recliner, watching what looks to be one of his criminal-interview videos. He must’ve been focused, because he’s as surprised to see us as I am that he’s still awake. He pushes Pause and stands.

“Hey, Dad. We’re just playing a game. We won’t be here long.”

“What kind of game?” he asks.

“A game we’re going to lose because we have no good food in this house.”

I start to move toward the kitchen, but he stops me with: “Would you like to introduce your friends, Addie?”

“Oh, yes, sorry. This is Rowan, and this is Stephanie. You already met Trevor.”

My dad shakes Rowan’s hand. “You guys having a good night?”

Really? My dad is going to analyze Rowan’s answer to a question about enjoyment? I give him the are-you-serious? look and he gives the I-know-I’m-overprotective-but-you-are-my-only-daughter look back. How can I argue with that look?

“Yes. It’s been fun,” Rowan says.

“Dad, we’re kind of on a time limit here.”

“Okay, I’ll get out of your way.” He sits back down on the recliner and my eyes drift to the television as the others head around the counter to the fridge. The man on the screen is a wiry guy with tattoos up his arms and an eyebrow ring. I wonder if this is the same DVD I had seen the other day. Poison. I’m surprised when my father pushes Play. But then I realize it’s turned down very low. I join the others in the kitchen, where they’ve already pulled out chocolate syrup and some natural granola bars.

“Do you have a plate we can use?” Rowan asks. I hand him one, and he unwraps the granola bars and places them side by side on the plate. While he drizzles chocolate syrup over them, my eyes wander back to the TV. If I watch the lips of the criminal and concentrate on opening an energy channel between myself and the television, I can barely make out what he’s saying.

“You can’t pin her murder on me just because we were together. It was consensual. She was using me for the drugs anyway.” There’s a pause because obviously the interviewer is asking a question, which without the lip-reading addition to the sound energies, I can’t hear. But the answer given to the question is, “Of course I didn’t know she was in high school. I hardly knew her at all.” Another pause. “I didn’t kill her. Look, if you don’t have enough evidence to hold me, then I’m ready to go home.” He stands up, and my dad writes something in his notebook.

The voices in the kitchen are muffled because I’ve blocked off all other channels except the one to the TV. So when Trevor taps my arms, I jump.