The Unlikely Romance of Kate Bjorkman (6 page)

Fleur probably had him all wrapped up, but if she didn’t, Ashley would know what to do. Why did mating have to involve these stupid little games that I didn’t know how to play? Didn’t even want to play.

Then it hit me. Ashley didn’t know how I was feeling. She was always telling me about her feelings, which were varied and extreme, and I tried to be sympathetic, although once she accused me of not understanding passion. Well, I understood it now. I would have to tell her. She would understand if anyone would. Honesty would work. I would be honest with her:
Look, Ashley, Richard is the only hero I’m interested in. I need your help in getting him. You could tell me how. Tell me how to puff out my lips. Tell me the magic words, Ashley. You’re my best friend. Teach me. Remember how I helped you through algebra and through first-year German? I have been a good friend, haven’t I? Now you have to be my friend and teach me how to get Richard. He’s the only passion I’ve ever had. Besides linguistics
.

“Do you have time to go with us?” I asked Ashley, coming out of my reverie.

She looked away from Richard, startled, as if she’d forgotten that there were other people in the room. “Yes, I’d love to go—that is if there’s room.”

“You can sit on Richard’s lap if there’s not,” said Fleur, standing up and gathering every dirty dish within reach. She looked mad.

“Take the Cherokee,” Dad said. “That should hold all of you.”

“I’ve got to brush my teeth,” I said. “Ash, come upstairs with me, I’ve got something to show you.”

Reluctantly she pried herself loose from our hero’s side.

“What is it?” she asked when we were alone in my bedroom. “Your mother didn’t buy you diamond earrings for Christmas, did she?”

“Diamond earrings? I don’t want—”

“If I don’t get them, I will kill my mother.” She sat on my bed. “I’ve told her I don’t want one other thing, just diamond earrings.”

“Ash, listen—”

“Is the Ice Queen sleeping with you?” Ashley had spotted Fleur’s duffel bag next to the bed.

“Fleur? Yes.”

“She wanted to kill me when she saw Rich liked me.” She let out this hormonal squeal. “Isn’t he beautiful, by the way? What a surprise to find him here.”

“Yes—I mean, yes, he
is
beautiful. I think so too.” I’d never in my life said anything so dumb out loud. “I—I mean,” I continued, stammering, “I mean, I like Richard, that is, Rich.”

“Like him?” Ashley said.
“I crave his body.”

I swallowed. “So do I,” I said, sitting on the bed next to her. “So do I—crave his body, I mean.”

She looked at me as if I had developed an unpleasant facial tic.
“You?”
And then burst out laughing, obviously because it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

“Yes, me. What’s so funny?”

“Well,” she managed to say between giggles, “you’re just not his type at all. I mean—” She stopped when she saw my face, which I know was not smiling. “You’re serious! I can’t believe it; you’re serious.”

I had never talked about Richard to anyone. To speak aloud about him was to make him a schoolgirl’s fantasy, even if I was a schoolgirl. It made us both seem silly, but especially me. I felt that now as I talked: “Yes, I’m serious, and I want your help. You’re the only one
who can help me. I don’t know how to attract someone like him. I’ve had no practice, no interest before this, really, but now I’m interested.” I shook her shoulders. “I’m interested. Help me
lure
him.” I used her word and felt immediately embarrassed.

“But
I
want him,” she said, her voice rising.

“You have Kirk. You have anyone you want. Please—Richard Bradshaw is the only guy I’ve ever found who remotely interests me. He is the love of my life!” I was using a language she would understand. I didn’t like the way it sounded coming out of my mouth. Sappy romance language. Ugh.

“So this is the cool Kate Bjorkman in love.” Something, the tone in her voice, made her sound a little jealous of that cool Kate Bjorkman. “Hell has frozen over at last,” she continued. And then, hugging me effusively, “Of course I’ll help you,” she said. She clasped her hands in front of her as if she were beginning a painting. “Take off your glasses,” she commanded. “And keep them off. He’s not going to look twice at you with those Coke bottles on your face.” She removed them for me.

Even as close as I was to her, her face blurred. “How will I see?”

“You want him, don’t you?” she said. “Then you’ll have to give up seeing for a while. You’re not wearing lip gloss,” she said. “Didn’t I give you some?”

“Oh, I keep forgetting—”

“Let me fix your face a little.” She pulled makeup out of her coat pockets. “I keep this stuff to freshen up during the day,” she said.

She did something to my lashes and eyes and applied more lipstick and gloss and blush.

“He’ll fall on his head when he sees you.”

“I won’t be able to see it,” I said. If he looked at me with yearning, I wouldn’t see that either.

“Come on,” she said, and pulled my arm. I put my parka on and slipped my glasses into the pocket.

Ashley must have seen me do that because she said, “Don’t wear them under any circumstances.”

I followed her down the stairs. “Shouldn’t he fall in love with me with my glasses on, since I can’t live without them?”

“Trust me,” she hissed back. “I know about these things.”

The others were ready to go in the kitchen in
Chapter
Five
.

“Where are your glasses?” asked my mother, my father, Bjorn, and even Richard simultaneously—everyone who had known me all my life with those glasses welded to my face.

“In my pocket,” I said as casually as I could. “They were giving me a headache.” It was stupid, but I couldn’t think of anything else. I couldn’t see without them. Everybody knew. I felt like a total jerk. Ashley must have sensed these feelings, because she pinched my arm, which meant I was to go through with this.

“You look different,” my dad said. I didn’t usually wear makeup.

“Let’s go before all those trees are gone,” Bjorn said, to my relief. We headed out through the back porch and into the garage.

“Doesn’t she look different, though?” my dad was asking my mother.

The last thing I heard Mother say before the back door closed was “Shhh.”

A surprise awaited me in the garage. Bjorn and Trish were in the bucket seats in the front; Fleur sat on the far side of the backseat, then Richard, and before I could get in and sit next to Richard, which seemed to me to be a good plan, Ashley climbed in next to him. “Lucky you,” she said to me. “You get the back all to yourself.”

I couldn’t believe it. I walked around the Cherokee, tripping over a snow shovel that I couldn’t see, opened the hatchback, and got in with the sandbags my father keeps there in case we get stuck on ice.

Bjorn revved the engine.

“Wait a minute,” Fleur said, opening her door. “I’ll go back with Kate.”

“You don’t have to,” I said.

“I want to,” she said, climbing through the hatchback and closing it.

To tell the truth, there wasn’t a whole lot of room, but I was grateful for Fleur. Even without glasses I could see that Ashley sat closer to Richard than she needed to. Old habits must be hard to break, I thought.

Just barely out of the neighborhood, at the corner of Cleveland and Larpenteur, Richard said, “We used to get all our trees there.” I knew he meant the Boy Scout lot on the corner.

“We did too,” said Bjorn.

“Let’s stop in,” I said. “They always have a good variety to choose from.”

I heard Ashley let out a snort.

Bjorn yelled from the front, “Right. We’ll just do that,” but the car didn’t slow down any.

Richard turned in his seat, his voice close to my ear. “Boo, for heaven’s sake put your glasses on. How can you stand not seeing anything?”

“The Scout lot is completely empty. They’ve evidently sold out,” Fleur said, a smile in her voice.

I shrugged it off. “I wasn’t looking.”

“You weren’t
seeing
,” Bjorn shouted from the front.

“That too,” I said.

“Have you got your glasses with you?” Trish asked.

Fleur was already digging into my pocket. She pulled the glasses out and set them on my face. “Let there be light,” she said.

“Oh, don’t,” Ashley cried. “She looks so much better without them. Don’t you think so, Rich? Don’t you think Kate looks better without her glasses?”

Oh, Ashley, shut up.

“Is it relevant?” Richard asked. “She can’t see without them.”

“I know, but if she could see, don’t you think she looks better without glasses, really now, don’t you?”

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

He turned, and I could see the tiny creases around his eyes. “Boo isn’t Boo without those glasses,” he said, and with his index finger he pushed the nosepiece playfully back up on my face and grinned at me.

Thank you, Lord, I thought.

“Kate is Kate
with or without
the glasses.” Fleur nudged his back. She refused to call me Boo. Another reason to like her.

“Yes ma’am, I stand corrected. Fleur wouldn’t be Fleur without the corrections,” he said, turning forward again.

Ashley laughed too loudly.

At Trish’s suggestion, we sang “O Tannenbaum” in German all the way to Grand Avenue, with Ashley giggling and saying, “Oh, I’ve forgotten the words. It’s been years since I took German!”

Like last semester, I thought.

It turned out that Bjorn was right about the tree lot on Grand. They still had trees. He parked the car, and Fleur and I untangled ourselves and climbed out the back. We had gotten in the car while it was still in the garage, but now the cold hit us like a wall. Fleur covered her nose with both hands. “My gosh,” she said.

I laughed. “The hairs in your nose freeze right away when it gets this cold,” I said. I pulled my parka hood up and tied it securely under my chin. Then I noticed that Fleur wasn’t wearing a hat at all.

“Here, take my muffler and put it around your head. You’ll never survive without something on your head.”

She didn’t argue, but gratefully accepted the muffler.

We followed Bjorn and Trish into the lot. Trish held on to his arm, taking little, bouncy, excited steps. “Just think,” she squealed, “we’re buying our very first tree.”

Ashley, imitating Trish, put her arm through Richard’s and said, “Just think, Rich, you and I are buying our very first tree together.”

He looked down at her, surprised, I think, but laughed as if he liked the joke. He turned and glanced at Fleur, a wry look on his face. Depressing.

Fleur put her arm through mine. “Let’s go steady,” she said, matching Ashley’s voice exactly.

“Let’s get married,” I said, patting her arm.

“Let’s have a family,” Fleur went on. “A girl for you, a girl for me.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Just think, we’re buying our first tree together.” We burst out laughing.

Richard had disengaged himself from Ashley and was pulling out the tallest trees he could find.

“How about this, you guys?”

Bjorn had pulled out another one almost identical to the one Richard was showing us, a spruce. It was the kind our family always bought. The branches on both trees were frozen up, but you could tell they would thaw into a nice, symmetrical design—perfect for showing off ornaments.

“Oh no, not one of those,” Trish said. “They’re so skinny. They look undernourished. This is perfect.” She held on to a fat piñon pine—our family called them the porcupine trees.

“But honey,” Bjorn said, “the ornaments just sort of hang on the outside of those trees. They’re so thick you can’t get anything between the branches.”

“No, they look wonderful that way, really. Our family always had a tree like this. Honey, this is perfect.”

“Well, how about this one?” Bjorn pulled out another tree that looked exactly like the first one he’d shown her. “It’s a little thicker near the top.”

“Honey, it isn’t a piñon pine.”

“Or this one.” Bjorn pulled out yet another spruce from the pack.

“Well, honey, I like this one.” Trish pulled out another
piñon pine and tried to push the frozen branches down with her gloved hand.

“That’s nice, honey, but I like this one better.” Bjorn wasn’t listening. “What do you think, Rich?”

“Either one is fine with me.”

“Well, I like this one,” Ashley said, pointing at the tree Richard had chosen. “I think it’s perfect.”

Fleur smirked.

“I think we should get this one,” Bjorn said. He shook the tree vigorously.

Trish scanned the lot. She seemed nervous. “Honey, let’s look just a little more. We just got here.” She walked down the aisle of trees.

Fleur stomped her feet. “It’s freezing,” she said. “I’ve never been so cold.”

Bjorn called to Trish, “Honey, Fleur is cold. Let’s go. This one will be fine.”

Fleur started, “No, I didn’t mean—”

“I like this one,” Trish called from the end of the aisle. Another piñon pine.

“It might be fun to have a different kind of tree this year,” I said to Bjorn.

“I hate piñons. They look like overgrown bushes,” he said under his breath.

“Honey, come and look,” Trish called to him again.

Richard began pulling ridiculous-looking trees, with huge sections missing, trees two feet high, from the racks. “I want this one,” he said. “No, this one. This one is my favorite.” Ashley, Fleur, and I laughed harder than we needed to, but we all wanted to get away from Bjorn and Trish.

Bjorn walked down the aisle to where Trish held her choice. He took the spruce with him. They huddled together in a whispered conference.

“Here.” Richard continued his antics. “This one can be used for a swordfight. Hold on to this,” he said to Fleur, handing her the most emaciated-looking little tree on the lot. She took it from him. He chose another almost like it and they began fencing. Fleur used both hands to hold the tree and went after Richard like a terrier after a rat.

Ashley grabbed a tree and went for Richard’s back.

“Hey, no fair,” he cried. He grabbed one end of the tree Ashley was holding and swung it around. Fleur hit him from behind.