Slow Burn (39 page)

“Oh, it was a slow day, and I’ve racked up so many hours lately, I was first on the list to be sent home.”

“What?” I say, opening my eyes in mock surprise.  “They’ve finally decided that eighty hours a week is too much?”

“Something about an early grave was mentioned,” Mom replies, waving a hand in the air.  “Do you want my Reuben from Frizby’s?  I just stuck it in the fridge.”

“No, thanks.  I think I’m going to bed.  Need my eight hours, you know.”

“You get that from your father.” She smiles without bitterness—even though she just mentioned my dad.  “Goodnight, Juliet.”

“
Yeah, goodnight,” I mutter before heading for the stairs.

I miss my mother.  I miss h
er even more when I see her.

******

Chapter 30

Heather comes with me to Dad’s, and all she can talk about is Sloane.  She even tells Dad all about her, and the poor guy doesn’t know what t
o do with the information.  Michelle takes us baby-shopping with her, and between all the baby talk and the starry-eyed first love, I’m wonderfully distracted from my own problems.

“This is so cute—oh, my god!” 

Michelle hugs a pink polka dot dress to her chest, staring heavenward as if in prayer.  She holds it out again.  “Look how tiny!”

“Are you having a girl, then?” Heather asks slyly, watching my aunt’s face for a clue.

“We don’t want to know,” Michelle says firmly, putting the frilly little dress back.  “Which is why I’m buying only gender-neutral colors.  Awww, look at the little winter jacket with the butterflies!”

Heather and I exchanged amused looks, but since we’re both baby-crazy ourselves, we don’t try to put an end to the madness.
  Besides, this has been a long time coming for Michelle.  I’m totally willing to indulge her obsessions. 

“I’m telling you, she is the best kisser.  And I’m not just saying that ‘cause she’s so hot,” Heather is saying as we drift after Michelle, who flits from rack to rack.

“So, you guys made out for a few minutes.  Does that mean she is…?”

“Mm, I still don’t know.”  Heather cocks her head to the side, considering.  “She won’t say def
initely, and I’m afraid to straight out ask her.  But, dude, she actively kissed me back, so she can’t be opposed to the idea.”

“Just be careful with her,” I blurt out, unable to keep the worry from my voice.  “
She’s into a lot of—”

“I know, Mom,” she cuts me off irritably.  “She doesn’t really get high around me, okay?  She knows I’m not into it.  You know I know a lot of people who use—and I haven’t given into temptation yet!”

I give her my most stern look.  “Make sure it stays that way, Heather Jones.  If Sloane does anything to get you in trouble, you can’t play with her anymore.  I don’t care how pretty she is.”

“Just how pretty is she?” Michelle says, thankfully overhearing only the last part of the conversation.  “Do you have a picture?”

“I do!”  Excitedly, Heather looks through her phone, which she’s always holding in her hand.  She scans through a few photos before she triumphantly hands it over to Michelle.

Michelle takes it, squinting at the screen.  Her eyes widen.  “Damn,” she says in a low voice.  “She’s gorgeous!”

Michelle is so impressed that I kind of want to whip out my phone and show her Dean’s picture.  If she thinks Sloane’s beautiful, wait ‘til she sees him!  But, no, that would be weird, and Michelle would get the wrong impression.  I keep my phone in my pocket, and look over Michelle’s shoulder at the many,
many
pictures of Sloane Suzuki.  She doesn’t even seem to be aware of the camera in over half of them.  Damn, Heather—stalker, much?

Sunday, I bring Heather and homemade pizzas over to Mack’s.  Johnny doesn’t come, and no one mentions him—not even Arianna, who’s taken to ignoring me instead of glaring.  Nick and I still avoid each other, but I don’t think anyone but Heather notices.  I question Mack about the girl at homecoming, and he is adorably tight-lipped on the subject.  Ben and I watch videos of people reviewing films on his phone, and we both wonder how some of them have received so many views.  It’s a fun day, and I’m glad I know these people (well, most of them).  I have to admit, I spend a little time worrying if they would still want me around now that Johnny and I don’t seem to be on speaking terms.  Because, let’s face it, he had them first and I’ll always be the outsider.  But everyone’s really cool about it, so I start to relax, and just enjoy.  I just wish Nick and I could get past this awkward guilt thing every time we see each other.  I miss him as a friend.  I wish I didn’t know what he looks like naked.  More importantly, I wish he didn’t know what I looked like naked.  Uck.

Monday is the Romeo and Juliet presentation, and I’m somewhat confident—eighty percent.  We finished the project early, and we were thorough, planning every detail.  What could go wrong?

Turns out—
everything.  Nick is absent today because he hurt his wrist doing some silly boy stunt involving Jason and Ryan, and the side of a house.  Honestly, that guy gets hurt more than anyone I know.  Also, Heather is quarantined at home with a sudden case of pinkeye!  Her left eye is super gross and gloppy—I know because she sent me pics!  But we brainstorm, and Mr. Shannon saves the day by suggesting we set up a video chat, and offers us the use of his laptop.  So Heather, wearing an eye patch, is able to perform her roles as Mrs. Capulet, and Olivia Channing—star prosecutor.  She’s fantastic despite the pus, and Andrew Rosen asks me for her number after class.

Dean is forced to take Nick’s part, and he is not happy.  He delivers every line in his deep unemotional voice, and is unintentionally hilarious.  Watching Dean act is probably half the reason Mr. Shannon praises our presentation with a huge smile on his face.  He also commends us for going outside of the box, and I can’t help the smug look I give Dean.
  He gives me a deer-in-the-headlights look back.  I think he’s still traumatized.  I feel bad for him, but not really because I realize that no matter how stiff and uncomfortable he is in front of an audience, all eyes are glued to him.  I can easily see him in the movies as an action hero.  Heck, I’ve seen less emotion from famous actors who aren’t as handsome as Dean.  Heather, on the other hand, would make a terrific actress—a career far more suited to her personality than a pharmacist, which is what she’s leaning toward.  Must remember to mention it to her.

The rest of the week passes quietly.  I see Johnny around in school, and he always just barely acknowledges me.  I’ve been eating lunch in the caf with our group once I realized he’s been going out to eat.  Tanya tells me that Johnny’
s refused all the girls at Leclare who have asked him out—but apparently everyone else is fair game.

“Dani totes thought she could move in on him,” Tanya whispers to me as we watch her glide past us in the hall. 
“But he turned her down cold.  By the way, you never said what’s going on between you and Johnny?  Did you guys have a big fight, or something?”

“Or something,” I reply with a shrug.  “Like I’ve said
several times before
—I’m not interested in what he does anymore.”

“Hm.  But he was so in love with you—it was
so
romantic!”  She sighs deeply before suddenly giving me a speculative look.  “Wait, does the fight have anything to do with Ben Parrish?  I notice you guys are always together lately.”

I rol
l my eyes.  “We’re just friends!  Besides, he has a girlfriend—Arianna.”

“Yeah, I know.  She’s such a bitch!  You and Ben would make a cute couple.”

I start walking faster, but she easily keeps up with me, hitching the strap of her bag over her shoulder.  We’re almost running by the time we hit the parking lot.

Exasperated, I turn to her.  “Why are you so interested in my love life, anyway?”

Tanya looks surprised by the question.  She pauses, tilting her head to the side to consider.  “Um, well, I guess I’m just rooting for you,” she says slowly.  “You’re this normal girl who got the golden ticket to the Beautiful People Party!  It gives the rest of us hope, you know?”

“So,” I say.  “You like me ‘cause I’ve successfully risen above my station?”

She snorts self-consciously.  “Juliet, I love how you talk!  And I like you ‘cause you’re funny and cool.  I want to
be
you because you’re friends with the hottest guys in school.”

Oh.  “So when you say you want to be me, do you mean, like, wear my skin as a cape?”

“If it means Dean Youngblood will talk to me, then yes.  Because—drool.”

I shrug at her unapologetic grin.
  I am never telling her how much Dean and I see each other outside of school.  She may have me killed.

Tanya follows me to my car like an enthusiastic puppy dog.  If she tries to get in, I swear I’m going to zap her with the spray bottle of water I keep in the backseat (don’t ask why).

“Are you going to the game next week?” she asks, leaning against the side of my car.  “It’s the last game of the season.”

“I work, Tanya,” I say impatiently, unlocking the driver’s side.

“Are you going to the party at Dean’s and Johnny’s after the game?” she persists, trying to stick her head in after me as I slide behind the wheel.

I forcibly eject her by her forehead.  “I don’t think
so.  It’d be too weird.”

“No, it wouldn’t! 
It’s gonna be a huge party—it’d be easy to avoid him.  Come on…” she whines, her dark eyes big and pleading.

“I’ll think about it,” I concede, starting up my car. 

“Yay!  Okay, text me later—!”

I drive off before she finishes her sentence. 
The girl is driving me a little crazy.  I may have to introduce her to Heather.

******

Chapter 31

Hooray for three day weekends.  I spend it at Dad’s, where he surprises me with a friend of his from work.  Her name’
s Cerise(!), and she’s the new receptionist at his accounting firm.  She’s also bouncy, blonde, and in her early twenties.  She comes over for lunch, and though she seems nice enough, I can’t look at her and Dad together without having serious acid reflux.  Unfortunately, Michelle isn’t there to consult with on this latest development—she and Uncle Derek are in Vegas right now, having what she calls a…babymoon?  I desperately wish I was with them, doing some underage gambling—instead of sitting at the table and watching Cerise flirtatiously brush a lock of hair out of my father’s eyes.

Speaking of his eyes…is that a twinkle I see in them?  Uh-oh, I’ve never seen him look like that with the other women he’s been out with.  Then again, I’ve never seen him with a pretty young blonde
with a butt you can bounce a quarter off of.  And yes, I tried.  She didn’t even notice!

After she leaves,
I sit on the couch, feeling a little unnerved and slightly traumatized.  After hovering hesitantly above me, Dad finally sits next to me.

“So…”  He draws out the word
.  “What did you think of Cerise?”

“Oh, well, she seems really nice.  She’s young, huh?”

Dad flushes and rubs the back of his neck.  “Ah, yeah, she is.  Too damn young for me,” he admits gruffly.  “But we get along really well.  I…like her a lot.”

“Wow, that’s great.”  I clear my throat, and stare down at my hands.  “How long have you been seeing her?”

“Oh, not that long.  She’s been with the company for a couple of months, and we’ve gone out a few times, mostly with others from work.  We started talking, and believe it or not, we found we had a lot of things in common…”

Oh,
my god, my dad is gushing like a teenage girl!  He never gushes, never shares any kind of details—especially about women.  Now I see—that’s a good thing.  Because I don’t need to know that Cerise used to be a gymnast, or that she donates plasma twice a week.

But look how happy he is
.  I nod and smile, feeling almost faint with the effort.  Then I realize, I’ve been holding my breath.  I let it out in one big whoosh.

“So…are you okay with this
, Juliet?” Dad asks, almost reluctantly.  The glow fades from his face as he studies me uncertainly.

“Yeah.”  I blow out another breath, and unintentionally make a motorboat sound with my lips.  “You’ve dated before..right?  It’s been years since the divorce, and it’s not like I think you and Mom are—ha ha—gonna
get back together, or anything…right?”  I try to sound flippant but my voice grows tiny and questioning with hope at the end.

Dad rubs the back of his neck again.  “Right.”

I can’t keep my shoulders from slumping.  “But you still love her.”  It sounds like an accusation.

“Yes, yes I do.  I probably always will.  But.”  He runs his fingers through his dark hair, sighing.  “We’re not meant for each other.  Too much has happened between us…lost time,
loss of trust…I made a big mistake, and she can’t forgive me for it.  I can’t forgive myself for it, and I—I don’t want to feel bad about myself all the time.  Guilty, and nothing but a big disappointment.  I want to be with someone that makes me look forward to another day, and fills me full of hope.”