Lola and the Boy Next Door
Page 46
I wish Lindsey would stop talking in front of Cricket.
“It’s fine,” she continues. “I’ll hang out with them for a little while longer”—she gestures to the Bells—“and then I’ll catch the bus home. I’m tired.”
She’s pushing me away out of spite. There’s no good way of dealing with her when she’s like this, except to give her what she wants. “So, um, talk to you tonight?”
“Go,” she says.
I sneak another glimpse at Cricket before leaving. I wish I hadn’t. He looks tortured. As if he’d do anything to stop me, but he’s being held back by his own invisible demons. I mumble my goodbye. As I walk to the meadow, I take off the wig. I don’t have a purse—Lindsey never carries one—so I drape it on the branch of a Japanese maple. Maybe someone will find it and add it to their costume. I shake out my hair, unbutton the top of my shirt, and roll up the sleeves. It’s better, but I still don’t look like me.
Actually, I look more like me. I feel exposed.
Max is leaning against the first-aid station, and his shoulders relax when he sees me. He’s glad I’m alone. But when I lean up to kiss him, he hardens again, and it sends a chill down my spine. “Not now, Lola.”
His rebuke stings. Is it because of how I look?
“You’re still hanging out with him,” he says.
No, it’s because he’s jealous. I’m sweating again. “Who?” I ask, buying time.
“Grasshopper. Centipede. Praying Mantis.”
It makes me cringe to hear Max mock his name. “That’s not funny. And that wasn’t nice what you said to Lindsey earlier either.”
He crosses his arms. “How long have you been seeing him?”
“I’m not seeing him. We just bumped into him and his sister, I promise.” His silence intimidates me into blabbering. “I swear, Lindsey and I ran into them, like, three minutes before you showed up.”
“I don’t like the way he stares at you.”
“He’s just my neighbor, Max.”
“How many times have you seen him since Amoeba?”
I hesitate and decide to go with a slant truth. “Sometimes I see him through my window on the weekend.”
“Your window?Your bedroom window?”
I narrow my eyes. “And then I close my curtains. End of story.”
“Lola, I don’t believe—”
“You never believe me!”
“Because you lie your ass off all the time! Don’t think I don’t know you’re still hiding things from me. What happened at Muir Woods, Lola?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Nathan was trying to get you to tell me something at dinner. He was there, wasn’t he? The neighbor boy.”
“Ohmygod, you’re crazy. It was a family picnic. You’re getting paranoid, and you’re making things up.” I’m panicking. How does he know?
“Am I?”
“YES!”
“Because one of us is getting pretty worked up right now.”
“Because you’re accusing me of horrible things! I can’t believe you think I’d lie to you about something like that.” Oh God, I’m going to hell. I’m crying. “Why are you so convinced I’m ready to cheat on you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve never seen the same you twice. Nothing about you is real.”
His words stop my heart.
Max sees he’s taken it too far. He jerks forward as if a spell has broken. “I didn’t mean that.You know I love the crazy outfits.”
“You always say what you mean,” I whisper.
He rubs his temples for a long moment. “I’m sorry. Come here.” He wraps his arms around me. I hug him tightly, but it feels as if he’s vanishing. I want to tell him that I’m sorry, too, but I’m scared to tell him the truth. I don’t want to lose him.
When two people are in love, it’s supposed to work. It has to work. No matter how difficult the circumstances are. I think about the sweet songs he’s written, the ones he plays in his apartment, the ones for my ears only. I think about our future, when I’m no longer tied to my parents. Costumes by day, rock clubs by night. We’ll both be a success, and it’ll be because of each other.
Our love should make us a success.
Max kisses my neck. My chin. My lips. His kisses are hungry and possessive. Max is the one. We love each other, so he has to be the one.
He tears himself away. “This is the real me. Is this the real you?”
I’m dizzy. “This is me.”
But it tastes like fear on my lips. It tastes like another lie.
Chapter twenty-two
I’m discussing Max with the moon, but it’s supremely unsatisfying. Her beams are casting an eerie luminescence on Cricket’s window. “Max doesn’t like it when I dress down, but he throws my usual appearance into my face when we fight. I’m never what he needs me to be.”
The moon darkens by cloud cover.
“Okay, I’ve lied to him. But you saw how jealous he gets. It makes me feel like I have to. And I shouldn’t have to defend my right to be friends with another guy.”
I wait. The sky remains dark.
“Fine. The you-know-who situation is weird. Maybe . . . Max and Calliope aren’t so far off. But if I’m never given Max’s trust to begin with, how can he expect me to trust him in return? Do you see what I mean? Do you see how confusing it is?” I close my eyes. “Please, tell me. What do I do?”
The light behind my lids softly brightens. I open my eyes. The clouds have moved, and Cricket’s window is illuminated by moonlight.
“You have a sick sense of humor,” I say.
Her beams don’t waver. And without knowing how it happens, I find myself removing a handful of bobby pins from my desk. I chuck them at his panes. Dink! Dink! Dink dink! Seven bobby pins later, Cricket opens his window.
“Trick-or-treat,” I say.
“Is something wrong?” He’s sleepy and disoriented. He’s also only wearing his boxer briefs, and his bracelets and rubber bands.
OHMYGOD. HE’S ONLY WEARING BOXER BRIEFS.
“No.”
Cricket rubs his eyes. “No?”
DON’T STARE AT HIS BODY. DO NOT STARE AT HIS BODY.
“It’s fine,” she continues. “I’ll hang out with them for a little while longer”—she gestures to the Bells—“and then I’ll catch the bus home. I’m tired.”
She’s pushing me away out of spite. There’s no good way of dealing with her when she’s like this, except to give her what she wants. “So, um, talk to you tonight?”
“Go,” she says.
I sneak another glimpse at Cricket before leaving. I wish I hadn’t. He looks tortured. As if he’d do anything to stop me, but he’s being held back by his own invisible demons. I mumble my goodbye. As I walk to the meadow, I take off the wig. I don’t have a purse—Lindsey never carries one—so I drape it on the branch of a Japanese maple. Maybe someone will find it and add it to their costume. I shake out my hair, unbutton the top of my shirt, and roll up the sleeves. It’s better, but I still don’t look like me.
Actually, I look more like me. I feel exposed.
Max is leaning against the first-aid station, and his shoulders relax when he sees me. He’s glad I’m alone. But when I lean up to kiss him, he hardens again, and it sends a chill down my spine. “Not now, Lola.”
His rebuke stings. Is it because of how I look?
“You’re still hanging out with him,” he says.
No, it’s because he’s jealous. I’m sweating again. “Who?” I ask, buying time.
“Grasshopper. Centipede. Praying Mantis.”
It makes me cringe to hear Max mock his name. “That’s not funny. And that wasn’t nice what you said to Lindsey earlier either.”
He crosses his arms. “How long have you been seeing him?”
“I’m not seeing him. We just bumped into him and his sister, I promise.” His silence intimidates me into blabbering. “I swear, Lindsey and I ran into them, like, three minutes before you showed up.”
“I don’t like the way he stares at you.”
“He’s just my neighbor, Max.”
“How many times have you seen him since Amoeba?”
I hesitate and decide to go with a slant truth. “Sometimes I see him through my window on the weekend.”
“Your window?Your bedroom window?”
I narrow my eyes. “And then I close my curtains. End of story.”
“Lola, I don’t believe—”
“You never believe me!”
“Because you lie your ass off all the time! Don’t think I don’t know you’re still hiding things from me. What happened at Muir Woods, Lola?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Nathan was trying to get you to tell me something at dinner. He was there, wasn’t he? The neighbor boy.”
“Ohmygod, you’re crazy. It was a family picnic. You’re getting paranoid, and you’re making things up.” I’m panicking. How does he know?
“Am I?”
“YES!”
“Because one of us is getting pretty worked up right now.”
“Because you’re accusing me of horrible things! I can’t believe you think I’d lie to you about something like that.” Oh God, I’m going to hell. I’m crying. “Why are you so convinced I’m ready to cheat on you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve never seen the same you twice. Nothing about you is real.”
His words stop my heart.
Max sees he’s taken it too far. He jerks forward as if a spell has broken. “I didn’t mean that.You know I love the crazy outfits.”
“You always say what you mean,” I whisper.
He rubs his temples for a long moment. “I’m sorry. Come here.” He wraps his arms around me. I hug him tightly, but it feels as if he’s vanishing. I want to tell him that I’m sorry, too, but I’m scared to tell him the truth. I don’t want to lose him.
When two people are in love, it’s supposed to work. It has to work. No matter how difficult the circumstances are. I think about the sweet songs he’s written, the ones he plays in his apartment, the ones for my ears only. I think about our future, when I’m no longer tied to my parents. Costumes by day, rock clubs by night. We’ll both be a success, and it’ll be because of each other.
Our love should make us a success.
Max kisses my neck. My chin. My lips. His kisses are hungry and possessive. Max is the one. We love each other, so he has to be the one.
He tears himself away. “This is the real me. Is this the real you?”
I’m dizzy. “This is me.”
But it tastes like fear on my lips. It tastes like another lie.
Chapter twenty-two
I’m discussing Max with the moon, but it’s supremely unsatisfying. Her beams are casting an eerie luminescence on Cricket’s window. “Max doesn’t like it when I dress down, but he throws my usual appearance into my face when we fight. I’m never what he needs me to be.”
The moon darkens by cloud cover.
“Okay, I’ve lied to him. But you saw how jealous he gets. It makes me feel like I have to. And I shouldn’t have to defend my right to be friends with another guy.”
I wait. The sky remains dark.
“Fine. The you-know-who situation is weird. Maybe . . . Max and Calliope aren’t so far off. But if I’m never given Max’s trust to begin with, how can he expect me to trust him in return? Do you see what I mean? Do you see how confusing it is?” I close my eyes. “Please, tell me. What do I do?”
The light behind my lids softly brightens. I open my eyes. The clouds have moved, and Cricket’s window is illuminated by moonlight.
“You have a sick sense of humor,” I say.
Her beams don’t waver. And without knowing how it happens, I find myself removing a handful of bobby pins from my desk. I chuck them at his panes. Dink! Dink! Dink dink! Seven bobby pins later, Cricket opens his window.
“Trick-or-treat,” I say.
“Is something wrong?” He’s sleepy and disoriented. He’s also only wearing his boxer briefs, and his bracelets and rubber bands.
OHMYGOD. HE’S ONLY WEARING BOXER BRIEFS.
“No.”
Cricket rubs his eyes. “No?”
DON’T STARE AT HIS BODY. DO NOT STARE AT HIS BODY.
