The Ordinary Life of Emily P. Bates (10 page)

              “Huh?”

              “I was just wondering. Something Shannon said to me the other day made me think that you weren’t planning on going.”

              I frowned. And here I thought Shannon had given up her meddling. “I’m not.”

              “Oh, come on, Em,” he begged. “You should come with me. It’ll be fun.”

              “It’ll be a mess.”

              “But a fun mess.” He cocked his head to one side and put on his best puppy-dog eyes. He was just so
charming
. “Please? Don’t make me beg.”             

              “You already are begging,” I said, and thrilled at the thought. Ethan was begging
me to go on another date with him. To a party, no less. I hate to say it, but I caved, and I caved
ginning
. “Fine.”

              “Excellent!” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

              “See you.” I headed off toward my car through the rain that was getting increasingly worse with every minute.

              “What’s Cavanaugh so happy about?” Finn asked me as I turned the key in the ignition. Oscar whined a little, but the engine finally turned over and I pulled out of the space.

              “I told him I’d go to your sister’s stupid party with him.”

              “Oh.” We drove in silence for the full three minute drive to the library where I luckily was able to find a place to park right in front. We wouldn’t have to walk through the rain.

              “I’ll take your book in if you have it with you.” Finn held out his hand expectantly.

              “No. I’ll bring it in. I wanted to look around for something new anyway.” My irritation with him had faded in the afterglow of Ethan’s invite. What was the point, really, in staying mad about something that Finn was never going to feel apologetic about anyway? I might as well get over it and save us both the trouble.

              He shrugged and pushed the squeaking car door open. It was really pouring now, and we both dashed inside as quickly as we could.

              “Finn!” Bill called from the office. “Is that you?”

              “If it weren’t, you’d be yelling like an idiot for no reason!” Finn replied. “How does that make you feel?” He took my book from me and stepped behind the counter to check it in.

              The library was completely deserted at the moment. The faint odor of mold tickled my nose. There must be a leak somewhere in the roof. 

              “But it is you, so I’m good.” Bill stepped out of the back room and nodded at me. “Hey, Em.”

              “Hi.” Bill was a big man, one that you wouldn’t expect to see running a library. He was round and a little sweaty, and he was always panting. He looked more like a construction worker on his lunch break than a librarian. All that was missing was the hard hat.

              “How’s the arm?”

              I shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore. You wanna sign it?”

              “Sure.” I held up my cast so that he could see it better. He started laughing. “Oh, I like this one. ‘It’s like déjà vu all over again. –Yogi Berra.’”

              “Yeah, I like that one too,” I said. “Finn did that one.”

              “Who did ‘You’re a dork’?”

              “My brother.”

              “Ah
. Very original
.” He grabbed a marker from the pencil cup and started scribbling in some of the last of the white space left. “’Everyone who got where he is had to begin where he was,’” he read. “Who said that, Finn?”

              “Robert Lewis Stevenson.”

              “Right,” Bill agreed, jotting the name down next to the quote.

              “How do you
know
that?” I asked Finn, reclaiming my arm.

              He shrugged. “How do you
not
know that?”

              “Because I’m normal.”

              “Play nice, you two.” Bill grabbed a plastic sack containing what was left of his lunch. “And you hide the step ladders from that girl. I’m going home.”

              “See ya, Bill,” Finn said.

“Bye.” Bill pushed open the door, grumbled something irritable about the weather, and disappeared.

              “I’m going to look for a book,” I told Finn, who was now completely absorbed in something displayed on the computer monitor.

              “Yup.”

              I dropped my bag on his side of the counter and headed toward the stairs.

              There was a stain in the carpet by the poetry section. A blood stain. I stared at it for a full five minutes, feeling miserable. The immediate area around the stain was a little lighter than the rest of the carpet, like someone had scrubbed at the spot at some length to get the stain out. It hadn’t worked. That stain would probably be there for the rest of eternity. An indefinite reminder of my stupid fall.

              “Ugh.” I turned my back on the poetry section. I scanned the fiction area for about fifteen minutes, but didn’t find anything that sounded particularly interesting. I wandered downstairs to the young adult section, but still no luck.

              “I couldn’t find anything,” I said. Finn was sitting on the floor behind the counter, reading
To Kill a Mockingbird
and eating peanut M&M’s.

              “I’ve always liked the name Atticus,” he said. “I think I’ll get a cat and name him Atticus.”

              “Sounds like a plan.” I slid down the counter and sat on the floor opposite him.

He put down his book. “What’s bugging you?” he asked, popping a piece of chocolate into his mouth.

              I shrugged. “Nothing, really.”

              “I don’t believe you.”

              “Give me one of those,” I said.

              “Open your mouth.” I did so, stretching my mouth open as wide as it would go. Finn took aim, and then tossed the M&M. I caught it in my mouth.

              “Thanks. Another.”

              He tossed another and rested his head against the wall. “So does this weekend make date numero dos with Mr. McDreamy?”

              “I guess.”

              “Hm.”

              “For you too, but with Margo.”

              “Hm,” he repeated. “I think I like Margo.”             

              “Well that’s a good thing, I think, considering you’re dating her now.”

              He pulled a face. “Dating. I hate that word.”

              “It’s better than the alternatives.”

              “Alternatives?”

              “Boyfriend. Girlfriend. Going out with.
Relationship
.”

              “Ah. Yes, I agree. Much better.” He shook his head, trying to toss his hair out of his eyes.

              “You need a haircut,” I said. “You’re starting to look a little too sensitive and emotional for my taste.” I opened my mouth wide, asking without words for him to toss in another M&M.

              He complied without question. “You’re probably right.”

              “Here, let me try.” He poured a few of the candies into my palm and I sat back. “Open up.”

              He opened his mouth. My aim was good.

              “So,” I started, and then stopped to gather my words. “So I was actually kind of avoiding this party thing for a reason.”

              “Really?” He sounded maddeningly unsurprised.

              “Yeah.”

              “Would it have something to do with Mr. McDreamy? Or your lack of party experience in general.” He opened his mouth and I tossed in another M&M.

              “Kind of both.”

              “Go on.”

              “Well, first of all, yes, parties make me nervous. Drinking parties in particular, because frankly I’ve never had a drink in my life.”

              “What about last New Years when you got all hyped up on two wine coolers and a glass of cheap champagne, then cried when Aaron put shaving cream in your hair?”

              “Fine, I’ve never had a
real
drink in my life.”

              “Point conceded. Continue.”

              “But that I can get over. The real issue is that,” I hesitated, shifting my weight uncomfortably. “Well, what if…”

              “What if what, Emily?”

              I stared at the floor. “What if he kisses me?” The words came out all in a rush and every drop of blood in my body rushed to my face.

              He didn’t even crack a smile, which was far better than Shannon would have managed. “Well then, darlin’, you put your arms around his neck and kiss him right back.”

              “I’ve never kissed a guy before.”

              “What about Cory Sandoval in the second grade?”

              “I’ve never
really
kissed a guy before. And how did you know about that?”

              “Cory bragged to me about it once.”

“Really?”

He shrugged. “He was trying to be impressive, but he didn’t really pull it off very well.”

“Okay, whatever. Let’s get back to the point.”

“All right.” He paused and thought over what I had said. “I think these are normal concerns that you are having.”

              “I don’t care. They’re not normal for me, and I’m about to jump out of my skin.”

              “All right, all right. Let’s recap. So you’re worried that the guy you’ve got a crush on might kiss you, that you might be a little tipsy at the time, and that you will make a fool of yourself when it happens because you have almost no experience in the field. Is that about right?”

              “About.”

              “Is there more?”

              “No. That’s it.”

              He peered at me. “So you guys haven’t fooled around yet?”

              “No!” I was getting more and more uncomfortable by the minute. Maybe I
should
have taken this up with Shannon. “What do you take me for? We’ve only been on one date!”

              “I take you for Emily P. Bates, but I take Cavanaugh for a Casanova character. I’m just surprised that in all the time the two of you spend alone, he hasn’t made a move yet.”

              “Well he hasn’t.”

              He shrugged. “Well then maybe he won’t on Saturday.”

              “But he might.”

              “He might.”

              “Especially if he’s been drinking.”

              “That would up the ante a little.”

              I stared at the few remaining M&M’s in my hand. They were melting in my palm, which was now rainbow colored and sticky. “Have you kissed Margo yet?”

              “Once or twice.”

              “
Really
?”

              “Yes, Emily. Really.”

              I shuddered.

              “What?” he asked.

              “Nothing.

              “It’s something.”

              “I dunno.” I squirmed. “It’s just so weird.”

              “Not really. I kind of enjoy it myself.”

              “No, not kissing.
Margo
kissing. Margo kissing
you
. I just never pictured it before.”

              He laughed at me. “She’s not really that good at it.” He tossed another M&M and I caught it easily.

              “Yeah?”

              “Yeah. She’s too shy.”

              “See? Exactly! Sweet little Margo shouldn’t be kissing anybody at all.”

              “Don’t be mean.”

              Just then we heard the door open and Finn had to get up to check in some books. I waited impatiently; rolling the melting M&M’s around in my hand. I stared at Finn while he helped the old woman find the romance novel section. She clung to his arm with her hand bag swinging crazily from her elbow. I tried to picture Margo clinging to his arm instead, but I just couldn’t do it. For some reason it seemed far more natural for the old lady to occupy that position.

              Finally Finn returned to his spot across from me and poured out a few more M&M’s into his hand.

“So, where were we?” I asked.

              “We were discussing sex and alcohol and the possible connection between the two.”

              “Right,” I said, but couldn’t think of anything to say after that.

              Finn sat forward suddenly, looking me directly in the eye. “Listen, Em. Are you really that worried about this guy making a move on you?” The concern in his face was real.