The Stillburrow Crush (9 page)

I plopped my heavy bag on the kitchen table with a thud and took a seat. Luke shrugged and sat next to me. I tried to ignore how close he was, but when his knee brushed mine under the table, my stomach took notice and started to churn.

"So how far are you behind?"

I winced while I pulled out my trig notebook and flipped it open. "I'm not sure. I started to get lost after the first week of class."

Luke blew out a breath. "Great," he said with a healthy lack of enthusiasm. He sighed and reached for my notebook.

"OK, let's check out the damage."

As he scanned my homework pages, I grabbed my ice cream and jammed a spoonful into my mouth nervously. It was one thing to have your crush in your home. It was another to let him see how awful you were doing in a class.

And I could tell I was doing pretty badly by the way he kept wincing.

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"First of all," he said, "you should really do this in pencil.

It's easier and a lot cleaner to erase, instead of having all these mark-out lines confusing you."

"OK," I said.

He looked at me expectantly. "OK," he repeated. "Where's your pencil?"

"Oh...right." I jumped from my chair. "Ah, let me go get one."

When I finally found one, I could tell he was laughing at me.

"What?"

"I can't believe you're a writer and you don't have a pencil," he said.

I shrugged. "I use pens."

After that, we got down to business. Luke polished off his sundae thing and when I was full he finished mine too. I was surprised to discover how good a tutor he was. He went through each step with me and if I didn't understand something, he explained it until I did. I was actually beginning to comprehend trigonometry by the time the back door opened.

Luke and I lifted our heads at the same time to watch Dad step inside. He was wearing his shop coveralls and looking dog-tired. I popped to my feet and grabbed the two empty bowls off the table as if they were some kind of incriminating evidence. I'd completely lost track of time and I think Luke had too because I saw him rub his eyes and check the clock on the wall.

"Hi, Dad," I said.

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"Hello." His voice was chalky and garbled, like that was the first time he'd used it all day. And if he hadn't spoken today, then he probably hadn't had any customers to speak to. Ergo, business had been slow. He scrubbed his feet on the welcome mat, knowing Mom would scalp him if he left dirt on the floor, all the while his gaze darted between Luke and me.

Unable to meet his eyes for some reason, I lowered my face and noticed what I was still holding. I rushed the bowls to the sink and began rinsing them. When I decided they were clean and it was safe enough to face my father without my cheeks going tomato red, I turned slowly and managed a half grin.

"Missed you in the shop today," he said, and his gaze slid to the source of the reason. Luke shifted and shoved his hands into his pockets.

I stepped forward. "Luke was helping me with my trigonometry." It sounded like I was trying to cover something up, which I wasn't because that was the God's honest truth. Luke
had
been helping me with my trigonometry.

My dad just nodded and stared.

Luke closed his notebook and shoved it into his bag. "Hi, Mr. Paxton," he said in a friendly fashion, but the speed with which he packed his things made us look just as guilty. And there was nothing for us to be guilty about.

So I said, "Mr. Underhill said I had to have a tutor. So..." I glanced at Luke.

Dad nodded again and rocked back on his heels, remaining on the safety of the floor mat. Luke glanced from him to me 82

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and, for a moment, we all three just kind of stood there. Only my dad, I thought, would know how to show up at the worst possible time and ruin a great moment I was having.

Luke hiked his bag onto his shoulder and said to me, "I better get going."

I nodded. "OK."

He started for the living room and I followed. Finally, my father began to thaw. He waved at Luke and smiled, saying,

"Thanks for giving Carrie a hand with her homework."

I wanted to growl at him for being too late with his friendliness, but Luke returned the smile and said, "No problem."

In the living room, it was just the two of us. He turned back before leaving. "Same time tomorrow?"

I nodded. I knew if I said yes it would sound way too enthusiastic. So I just swallowed my excitement and smiled at him demurely even though I'm sure my eyes were sparkling and my lips were drawn thin from the grin I was repressing.

He nodded too and turned away. At that moment, he looked like the great football player he was. Even though the season was over, he still had those stiff, jerky movements like he was carrying heavy pads on his shoulders. The book bag bunched the muscles across his back, and since his shirt was stretched tight from the weight straining against it, I could see every detail. I was transfixed. He reached for the door handle and I wanted to grab his hand, come up with some excuse to waylay him a few seconds longer. But my mind was blank.

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Suddenly, the knob turned in his hand and the door flew inward. In swept my mother, her arms full of sacks. Luke, with his quick reflexes, jumped back. When Mom saw him, she skidded to a halt, barely avoiding a collision.

"Oh," she said, breathless. "I'm sorry. Did I hit you?"

Luke shook his head. "No. You're fine. I was just leaving."

"Oh," Mom repeated and slid out of his way. "Goodbye, then."

"Bye." He glanced at me one more time before closing the door.

When it shut, the room seemed to suck in around me. I noticed Dad had come to the living room doorway and was leaning against it. Mom, with her arms filled, blinked at me.

"He was tutoring me for trigonometry class," I said.

Mom smiled politely but her eyes said she knew better.

"Well, that was nice of him."

I didn't like her tone of voice at all. So I lied. "Mr. Underhill
asked
him to," I added. "He said I needed a tutor and he asked Luke."

I could tell she didn't believe me. "Why didn't he ask your friend, Elmer?"

"Because Elmer sucks at tutoring," I shot back, a bit too loudly. "He couldn't teach a bee to buzz. And since Luke gets good grades too, Mr. Underhill asked him." Mom and Dad continued to watch me with that funny
Whatever you say,
Honey
expression.

I had to come to my own defense. "We were doing homework," I said heavily. "That's all."

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"I wasn't asking," she answered, unable to hide the mischievous gleam in her eye.

"I'm not kidding," I insisted. "That's all there is to it.

Nothing else is going on. So don't think there is, OK?"

"Fine," she said. But when she looked at Dad, they shared a grin that seemed to say,
Our baby girl's growing up
.

I muttered that my parents were ridiculous. They laughed.

Balling my hands into fists, I stomped off to the sanity of my room.

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"You know what I don't understand?" E.T. said.

"What's that?" I asked before taking a bite of my salad. It was hot dog day in the lunchroom and I couldn't stand hot dogs. I'd opted to buy a salad, but they'd run out of my favorite dressing by the time I'd made it to the front of the line. Go figure. So there I was, stuck eating a plain-Jane salad with my dorky friend.

Across from me, E.T. took a bite of his hot dog. Ketchup squirted out the end and sprayed in my direction.

"Hey," I yelped. "Watch where you're aiming that thing." I found a napkin and wiped the red blob on the tabletop between us.

"Sorry." E.T. flipped his dog around to mop up the drip from the end of his bun, but sent another glob of ketchup flying. This time it landed on his white button-up shirt.

I groaned and cradled my forehead in my hand, shaking my face from side to side. "It's hopeless," I murmured to myself. When I looked up, he'd managed to get some on his thick glasses as well. "Just stop now," I said, holding up my hands for him to halt. He'd started to dab at his shirt but only succeeded in smearing it pathetically. "E.T., stop!"

He paused and lifted his head.

I held out my hand, palm up. "Give me your glasses."

"Why?"

"Because you have ketchup all over them. And quit wiping your shirt. You're making it worse." E.T. glanced down like he 86

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was tempted to ignore me. "Trust me," I said. "A napkin's not going to get that stain out."

He sighed. His shoulders sank in defeat and he let his wadded napkin fall on the table. He ripped off his glasses and tossed them at me. "Why does this always happen to me?"

"Quit complaining." I wiped one lens clean and started on the other. "It could be worse."

E.T. used both hands to point at the front of his shirt.

"How could this be any worse?"

I glanced up and grinned. "It could've happened to me."

"Funny," he said dryly.

"I thought so." I handed the clean lenses back and watched him slip them on. "You were saying?"

"I was?" He glanced at his hot dog as if it possessed all the answers. "Oh yeah. I don't understand why Mr. Underhill asked Luke Carter to tutor you and he didn't ask me."

My fork slipped out of my hand and clattered to the tabletop. "Say what?"

But E.T. didn't answer. Brenda Newell just had to walk into the cafeteria at that exact moment. She was strolling hand-in-hand with Rick Getty. But that didn't stop E.T. from pausing everything he was doing to gawk at her.

The year before, he and I had been quite the pair. He'd had a crush on Brenda, and I had one on Rick. E.T. had fallen for Brenda in the first grade when she sang "Silent Night" in the Christmas program. Since then, he went to every music concert the school put on and stopped whatever he was doing just to watch her walk by. I hadn't been that crazy about Rick. I just thought he was cute. He used to sit next to me in 87

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English class and make fun of the teacher. He cracked the most hilarious jokes. But then he and Brenda started dating and he quit paying attention to me. That was when I ripped all the pictures of him off my wall. I had to admit, though, he and Brenda looked cute together. They were a good fit.

Today however, I was preoccupied with what E.T.'d just said. I made a disgusted sound and snapped my fingers twice in front of his face. "Hello? Earth to Elmer."

"Hmm?" He transferred his look to me. His eyes were still glazed over and his goofy smile appeared to be stuck. But then he caught my look and straightened. "What'd you say?"

"I wasn't saying anything. You were."

"Oh...right. I...?" His eyes scanned the room again in search of his fair lady.

I rolled my eyes. "How'd you know Luke was tutoring me?"

I said, breaking into his daze.

E.T. gave up on his Brenda search and sighed as he picked up a tater tot. "I heard him talking in the bathroom." He took a bite and must've decided it needed ketchup too, because he picked up a package with a tomato printed on it and started to rip it open.

In the hope of avoiding another ketchup disaster, I snatched the package from him and opened it. Handing it back, I said, "And?"

"And what?"

I made a screeching sound through my gritted teeth. "And what did he say about it?"

"Nothing." E.T. shrugged. "His friend...What's his name?

The sheriff's son."

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"Nathan Bates."

E.T. snapped his fingers. "Yeah, Nathan. Nate asked Luke where he was last night and Luke told him about Mr. Underhill making him tutor you."

I gaped at my ketchup-stained friend. "He
said
that?"

E.T. nodded. "Why'd Mr. Underhill ask him and not me?"

E.T. looked hurt. But that wasn't my main concern. I reached across the table and grabbed him by the collar.

"Is that exactly what he said? That Under-the-hill
asked
him to tutor me?"

Again E.T. just nodded. He seemed unconcerned that I was dragging him half across the table. "You don't think he's making a higher grade than me, do you?"

I let go of E.T., and he dropped back onto his bench. "Of course not," I said, suddenly feeling sorry for him. E.T. would be crushed if a super jock was pulling a better average than he was. All E.T. had to fall back on were his brains. And if that failed, he probably thought he had nothing. I quickly concocted an explanation to soothe him.

"I bet he asked Carter because he's a senior and you're just a junior," I said. E.T.'s shoulders eased so I guessed that did the trick.

"Yeah," he said. "That's probably it. Besides, if Luke's tutoring you for extra bonus points then he can't be making
that
awesome a grade."

I surged to my feet, causing E.T. to jump. He gaped up at me.

"He said that too?" I demanded.

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E.T. shrank back, knowing the enraged look in my eyes only too well. He nodded meekly as if I might whip him for giving the wrong answer.

"He said...he said Mr. Underhill offered to give him bonus points to tutor you."

"Bonus points?" My jaw clamped down and my teeth hurt from the force of them grinding against each other. "That jerk," I hissed. Before I really knew what I was doing, I scanned the cafeteria. I knew Luke had the same lunch period. We always sat at different tables and even on different sides of the lunchroom but I knew we ate at the same time.

When I spotted him in a corner with his buddies, I untangled myself from the bench seat and started his way.