Leaving Paradise

Page 23

"Just try, Maggie. What'll it hurt?"
"I'm not going to be good."
"Who says you have to be good?"
He doesn't know being good at tennis has always meant more than being good at tennis. It's so much deeper than that.
When I look at Caleb, I want to make him proud of me. He's trying to fix whatever pain he's caused me. I want to help him, too. "Okay, I'll try," I say. "But don't expect much."
"I won't.
Fifteen minutes later, we're behind Paradise High looking out across the tennis courts. It brings back memories of me trying to prove myself. Taking a deep breath, I follow Caleb onto the hard, green surface.
When Caleb retrieved my racquet, I froze. I didn't even want to hold it. So after he fetched his own racquet and some tennis balls from his garage, he carried everything without complaint as we walked to the school.
Now he's holding out my racquet to me.
I hesitate.
Taking my hand in his, he wraps my fingers around the racquet handle
"I'm scared," I admit to him.
"Me, too."
I raise an eyebrow.
"Yeah," he says. "If you beat me. I have to keep up my tough-guy image, you know."
That makes me laugh. "You don't need me to make you look tough, Caleb."
With that, he takes the tennis balls and heads to the opposite side of the court. "Be easy on me," he jokes.
He hits the ball right to me, nice and slow. Instincts take over and I hit it back. It feels good, I have to admit, but it also feels strange. My body moves differently now, like I'm stiff and can't loosen up. My legs, my stance, are both awkward and wrong. I can't balance on the balls of my feet and pivot when the ball comes at me. I can't lean over in the ready position, ready to strike at the ball when it flies by.
When Caleb hits the ball back to me, I don't swing.
He stands up and shakes his head. "You could have gotten that."
"I didn't want to. Can we go now?"
"No. Hit this back to me ten times, then we'll go."
He hits the next ball right at me. I hit it lightly.
"Nine," he says, counting down.
Three more balls come within arms length and I gently hit them, so they easily fly over the net right to him. My feet still haven't moved from this spot.
"Six."
Five more gentle balls fly over the net and bounce right in front of me. I send them flying back slowly.
"One more, Maggie. Then we're out of here."
Great. Only one more and the humiliation can end.
He sails one hard and fast over the net. It bounces five feet away from me. I don't even try to get it. He does it again ... and again. I put my racquet at my side and stare at him. "Are you trying to humiliate me?"
"Stop acting like a baby and go for the ball already," he says, shaking his head. "Come on."
How dare he!
This time, as the ball shoots over the net, my anger and nothing else drives me as I take three steps and whack the ball back at Caleb with all the pent-up power and frustration inside me.
It hits him squarely on his arm. "Ow!" I don't ask him if he's okay, because he has this arrogant look on his face and the corners of his mouth turn up in victory. "Did that feel as good to you as it did to me?" he asks.
I throw the racquet at him and head off the court.
I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing it felt exhilarating and awesome.
He steps beside me and pulls me to him. "I'm gonna have a bruise, you know," he says. "But watching you whack that thing was damn hot."
I look over at the welt growing on his arm. "It was?"
In a swift motion, he moves forward and pins me against the fence with his body. "I'm going to kiss you."
My stomach does a little flip; I forget about being mad. My nerves take over all emotions. "Here?"
"Oh, yeah. Right here, right now. You gonna run away this time?"
"I don't think so, but I'm not sure."
He smiles, amused at my answer.
I look up into his eyes that give me a glimpse into his private world, then lick my lips in anticipation.
And that is the beginning of our kissing marathon. All I have to say is that I don't feel inexperienced after an hour of lips and tongues and innocent and not-so-innocent caresses on both sides. I don't feel insecure about kissing anymore.
We moved from the courts to the park and back to my bedroom. On my bed. Caleb leans back and moans. "We have to stop this or my body is going to suffer aftershocks for days."
Relaxing, I lay my head on his chest. "That was nice."
"Yeah, too nice."
He's breathing heavily. We both are. I take a deep, slow breath and bask in the moment. I could stay here forever, just like this. Gazing. Feeling wanted. Feeling protected. Feeling normal.
"I should hate you for making me play tennis."
"Yeah. But you can't, can you? Besides, we've had a makeout session you'll be thinking about for weeks."
"You've got an ego problem."
"Only with you." He chuckles, then yawns.
"Do I bore you?" I ask.
"Not at all," he says, stroking my hair. "It's just ... I don't sleep too well. And I'm so relaxed and content my body is ready to crash."
I lean up on my elbows. "So sleep."
"Here?"
"Sure. My mom won't be home until late." I start to get up, to leave him my whole bed so he could sleep in peace.
"Don't leave me," he says. "Lie next to me." He pulls me down with him. "You're so different," he says almost to himself.
"Don't say that," I tell him, looking away. I want to keep the false fantasy that I'm the same as other girls, at least for a little while.
"Different in a good way." His brows furrow. "A really good way."
Then he pulls me tight against him. We're spooned together as if we've been dating for years. We're even sharing the pillow I've slept on since I was ten. The last thing I remember before waking up is Caleb's slow, rhythmic breathing behind me as he falls into slumber.
But now I hear the front door open and I'm fully awake. "Caleb, wake up. My mom's home."
It takes him a second to get his bearings, we've been sleeping for over five hours.
"Wait here and don't make a sound," I say, then kiss him on his sleepy lips.
Sliding out from beneath his arm pinning me to him, I close my bedroom door and head downstairs. "Hey, Mom," I say, my voice groggy from sleep.
"I didn't mean to wake you, sweetheart. I hate these late Sunday nights, but I'd rather have them and be able to spend the mornings with you. It seems we spend much too little time together lately." She puts down her purse and starts climbing the stairs. I pray she doesn't want to hang out in my room and have one of those mother/daughter talks. Not now. But I guess if she does, the truth will come out. Maybe it would be a blessing in disguise, but I'd rather not chance it.
"It's fine, Mom. You always worry about the small stuff."
She doesn't hear the creak of my bed behind my door. But I do.
Mom's eyebrows furrow. "Why are you sleeping in your clothes?"
Oops. "I was in my room and must have dozed."
"Well, I'm beat, too. Go back to bed. You have school in the morning. And change out of those clothes."
"Okay. Good night." I hope she doesn't realize I'm anticipating with bated breath the moment she closes the door to her room.
When she closes her bedroom door, I hurry back to my room. Caleb is sitting on my bed, startled. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, still looking as dangerous and cool as ever even half-asleep. "I lost track of time."
"Me, too."
He walks over to the window.
"Caleb, what are you doing?" I whisper.
"Finding a way out."
I put my hand on his arm and tug on it. "You're not jumping out my window. Just wait fifteen minutes and I'll lead you to the front door. My mom sleeps like the dead and she falls asleep really fast. Besides, if we get caught we're in this together. Right?"
It takes him a while to respond. It's almost as if he doesn't believe what I just said. "Yeah. Right," he finally murmurs.
THIRTY-THREE
Caleb
I met with Damon this morning, after convincing my parents I stayed out late because I was at Brian's and we lost track of time. They bought it. Damon came for some sort of evaluation for the State of Illinois. He interviewed my family, even Leah, then we hung out in my room while he grilled me with questions.
I told Damon I asked Maggie to see her leg, leaving out the part that we work together every weekday after school, or the fact that she's the only person who makes me forget the past year even happened. God forbid I should tell him I slept with her last night, in the literal sense of the word.
Damon shakes his head. "It's forbidden to confront your victim, Caleb."
"I didn't confront her."
Damon crosses my room and puts his hand to his head as if he has a headache. "You sweet on her?"
"Who?"
"Maggie."
"No. No way," I lie.
"You small town kids are a breed apart. Okay, here's the deal: stay away from her."
"Do I have a choice?"
"No." Damon opens his folder and clicks his pen. "You're almost done with your community-service requirements. A gazebo for Mrs. Dorothy Reynolds. I see you've been on that job for three weeks."
"If all goes well I should be done by the end of next week."
Damon seems impressed. "Good work, Caleb. You started out rocky, but you're a decent kid. Let's meet again next week and talk about what's going to happen after your release."
I'm feeling energized after Damon's visit, knowing the jail threat is almost behind me. I just have to keep the fact that I'm with Maggie a secret.
I knock on my sister's door. She's in there. Her room is her cave. My sister hibernates except for school and meals.
She doesn't answer, so I knock louder. "Leah, open up."
"What do you want?" she says through the door.
I sigh. This is harder than I thought. "Just open the fucking door."
She opens it a crack. I push it the rest of the way open and walk inside. It's too dark in here so I pull the shade up.
"Keep it down."
"Yeah, well, we have to talk and I can't see a damn thing."
"I don't want to talk."
"Too bad," I say, my hands crossed in front of my chest.
Leah's gripping the handle of the door, like she's ready to flee.
"Are Mom and Dad home?" she asks nervously.
"They're out."
She lets out a small breath.
I don't even know where to start. I just know I'm ready to say it out loud. It's been pent up inside of me for over a year. The demon's got to get loose. Life is not about covering up for crap and living in a fantasy world.
I take a deep breath and tell my sister, "You hit Maggie with the car and I took the fall for it. It sucked, but it's over. I wouldn't have done it if I knew you'd act like a fucking corpse the rest of your life."
Her eyes are wide as if her brain is registering the truth for the first time.
"Talk, Leah," I order. "Say something ... anything!"