Double Clutch (9 page)

“
I like the sound of that.” He reached out with a jerky motion and caught my hand. I felt the breath catch in my throat and hold. He examined my nails. “They look nice like this.”

I realized that they had still had the remnants of slightly chipped blue polish on them. “They look terrible. You don’t have to lie to me to be nice, Jake. You can just say, ‘Wow, your nails look crappy.’” I did my best boy voice.

“
Well, I will tell you that’s a crappy imitation of my voice.” He smiled so wide I could see his eyetooth from across the table. “But you’ve got to know you’re totally hot, chipped nails and all.” He burned beet red all the way to the roots of his hair. “Man, you get me to say some embarrassing stuff, Brenna.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.

“
Hey, don’t blame me when you feel moved to make strange declarations.” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the giggles back. Then, feeling flattered and very brave, I added, “And you’ve got to know you’re totally hot, Jake.”

The blush that had been wearing away flamed bright red. “Thanks,” he said, not meeting my eyes, but smiling and shaking his head.

“
Is this weirding you out?” I nudged his arm with my elbow.

“
No.” Then his voice got very serious, “Just giving me a lot to think about.”

I leaned so close I could smell his crisp aftershave. “I knew I smelled something burning.” I tapped my head suggestively.

This time when he laughed the teacher looked up at us with a warning glint in her eyes, and we both ducked our heads and got back to work.

A few minutes later, I passed him a note.

Where do you ride your dirt bike?
I wrote. I did it without thinking, the way I had done with someone sitting by me in school who I wanted to talk to a thousand times before. As soon as I turned the sheet and saw the nervous flicker in his eyes, I felt like a huge ass. He told me the first time I met him how hard it was to read and decipher.

He took out a pen and licked his lips nervously.
Vernon.
He wrote it very carefully and slowly.

Do you compete?
I wrote. I did it because I didn’t want him to think that I thought he was stupid or that there was anything he couldn’t do.

He read it carefully, moving his lips around the words. He picked the pen up again.
Yes. And I win.

I wrinkled my nose and wrote.
So you’re a big shot? Maybe I’ll come and see you sometime.

I slid the paper to him and looked away while he read it. I didn’t want him to feel pressured, but I watched out of the corner of my eye as he moved his mouth and squinted. It reminded me of the few times I’d met a really cool kid in Denmark and struck up a conversation. A lot of people in Denmark take years of English, but they don’t always get to use it, especially in Jutland, which is the countryside. So I’d be rattling away, so excited to have anyone to talk to, and the kid would be working overtime trying to keep up and string together an answer that made some kind of sense. For me, it was all fun and then guilt. For them, it was just exhausting work.

You better. I have a race in 3 weeks.
He wrote in neat, blocky writing, like a very textbook version of little kid print.

I’ll be there. Where?
I asked.

The track at Vernon Valley.

With the snow?
As far as I knew, they covered it with snow for skiing.

Not in
He stopped and I saw him write an ‘a’ and a ‘t’ before he stopped again, erased and wrote, finally,
fall.

I just nodded, and his shoulders actually sagged down with relief when I didn’t write more. I noticed that, when he thought I wasn’t looking, he slid the paper off of the edge of the table and put it into his front pocket.

We worked in companionable silence until the final bell startled us out of our peaceful little world.

I don’t think I have ever, in my entire life as a student, felt sad to hear the final bell ring on a Friday afternoon, but I definitely felt it that afternoon. My time with Jake was over, and I wouldn’t see him again until Monday.

He grabbed my backpack and walked down the long hallway full of jostling people.

“
Will you stop by my locker with me?” He nodded a few rows down and I followed, leaning out of the way of the pushing crowds.

We stopped and he opened the locker door so I could see binders stacked neatly on top of one another and covered with doodles. He pulled some books out and then grabbed his coat and two hats.

“
I like your hat combo.” I smacked the brim of his ball cap when he got it on.

He pulled the skullcap over it. “Good for sun, good for snow.”

We walked outside and he waited while I undid the chain on my bike. “I guess I’ll see you around.” I fiddled with the handlebars and kicked at my front tire.

“
Yeah.” He adjusted his skullcap and pulled his brim lower. Neither of us wanted to leave, but what were we going to do, stand there shivering? “Man, it’s cold. This weather is crazy. I hear we might get flurries next week,” he said, and blew out of his lips in a long, hard rush. “I would kill for a license right now.”

“
Did you ever notice that old trucks always have the best heat?” Thorsten’s truck made me sweat buckets when he cranked the heat in the winter.

“
There’s a technical reason.” He winked at me. “Someday I’ll explain it all to you.”

And then, because he was just the best guy and I loved how he always smiled when he talked to me, and because I was missing him a little already, I leaned over and kissed him right next to his mouth, but not on it. He smelled minty and the corner of his mouth was dry and warm with just a little scratchy facial hair.

“
Oh man,” he said as I pulled back. He blinked hard and turned red again. I got on my bike.

“
You better be my Facebook friend when I check.”

“
I’m gonna be your Facebook stalker.” The chip in his tooth glinted a little. His face fell suddenly. “I’m actually a little bummed we won’t be in school on Monday.”

“
We won’t?” I asked, puzzled. And deflated. No school meant no Jake.

“
It’s Labor day.” He ran his fingers along my handlebar, just around my mittened hands. “With this beautiful weather you didn’t realize? Aren’t you all ready for a nice picnic?”

“
Seriously! I think my brain has frostbite. But that’s good news now that I know.” I inched one yarn-covered finger towards his hand, and he brushed his fingers over mine.

“
I guess it depends on how much you’re looking forward to school. I might just get the perfect attendance award this year.” His fingers crept to the sliver of skin between my mitten and my jacket sleeve and brushed lightly, breaking my arm into goosebumps.

“
Don’t bother on my behalf. I always skip a few days a year.” I bit my bottom lip and gave him my best rebel face.

“
Call me before you do. School will be extra depressing when you’re absent.” He slid his hands off of mine, then off of the handlebars, then backed away a few reluctant steps so I had space to pedal.

“
Bye, Jake,” I called over my shoulder.

“
Be careful, Brenna!” he shouted.

When I looked back, he was still watching me ride away, all the way down the road.

The wind was cold, but I felt so good I didn’t even mind. My cheeks ached from smiling. Saxon was intriguing, but there was something so real and decent about Jake. I pedaled faster, thinking about Mom waiting at the window, and then coasted for a minute, so I could pull my scarf up over my nose. She would probably grab it today to see if it was cold. I was happy that I was going to be able to tell her that I had plans with Kelsie tonight. She wanted me to hang out with kids my own age a little more.

But I didn’t want to tell her about Jake. She had some of the same prejudices about Tech kids that the rest of the county seemed to have, and I felt a little protective of him. I didn’t want to hear anyone say the things that seemed definitive of him; that he wasn’t very good at school, that he would probably end up laboring for the rest of his life, that he didn’t value academics the way I did. It might all be true about Jake, but that didn’t really define him. There was so much more to Jake than met the eye. He was humble and hardworking and determined. He wasn’t full of himself, but he had passion and he had good ideas and he was focused. I liked him.

I really liked him.

Which made the way I acted around Saxon all the more confusing. Why couldn’t I get him out of my system? Especially when I had the promise of someone as good as Jake to care about? Even if my mind wanted to reject Saxon, my body couldn’t. Something about the way he looked and moved and talked made me feel a warm rush that shook me to the core.

I hated it, but I couldn’t stop it anymore than I could stop a blush or a shiver. It was automatic. I pedaled faster, harder, focusing on my breathing as I moved quickly along the roads, sending vibrant red and orange and yellow leaves swirling up under my tires. I enjoyed the rolling hills, which forced me to work hard on the uphill, but let me relax as I coasted down. Hills were not part of the terrain in Denmark, so I was still getting used to the difficulty of pedaling up them.

I turned onto my road and almost slammed into a parked car.

It was a Charger, one of the new models that took up too much road and roared around like big hulking predators, but I liked them anyway. Or maybe I liked them because of those facts.

“
Watch it!” I yelled hopping off of my bike as I skidded to a stop.

That’s when I saw the driver’s tinted window roll down. “Watch yourself, Blixen,” Saxon said coolly. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m driving a car. You’re on a bike. I don’t care who has the right of way, you’re not winning that one.” He lit a cigarette. I backed up.

“
Get in the car.” He didn’t ask or plead. He just told me like I’d instantly obey.

“
No way.” I got back on my bike.

“
Your nose is red,” he said casually.

“
So what?”

“
So, your mom is gonna be pissed. Get in and warm up. We don’t need to go anywhere. We’ll just talk.” He held his arms out innocently. His face was so handsome, and his eyes were dark and devilish.

“
I can’t. Mom will kill me if I smell like smoke.” I put one foot on the pedal.

He let the cigarette drop out of his mouth and crushed it under his heel. “Now c’mon. I’m trying to help you out with this whole ridiculous bike riding fiasco.”

I laid my bike on the uneven side of the road and climbed into the car, one hundred per cent against my better judgment.

“
Don’t wait for me like this,” I said, even as my body rejoiced at the warm air blowing from the vents. He had music in, some kind of neopunk. “What are you listening to?”

“
Folly.” He turned the volume up a little. “Do you know them?”

I shook my head.

“
The drummer is a senior at Frankford. They’re playing a show next week. Here.” He popped the CD out of the player. “I’ve got another copy. Listen to it. If you like it, we can go see them.”

He didn’t ask if I wanted to go; he just assumed that I’d take him up on it. I shook my head.

“
No thanks.”

“
What? You don’t like music?” he asked, his voice low and mocking.

“
I like music. I’ve…I’ve never been to a concert.” I flipped the vents open wider and basked in the heat, hoping I could store it up until I got home.

“
Are you kidding?” He raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Tell me you’re not serious. Never?”

“
No. Not with like a whole audience.” By now my skin was probably pink from the warmth. I should get out and go home. But I couldn’t do it. Not yet.

“
What does that mean?” He stretched back in his seat and gave me his total attention.

“
I means that I did see a band once, but by myself.” I pulled off my mittens and loosened my scarf. The air was getting extremely hot, and it wasn’t only because of the vents.

Saxon turned the heat down without glancing at the controls and rubbed his fingers against his thumb. “Like your parents came up with a cool mil and you got Beyonce to dance for you in your bedroom?”

I clucked my tongue. “Beyonce isn’t going to shake it in your bedroom for a mil. She‘s not some cheap lap dancer. My dad works for
Saturday Night Live
, and once Green Day was on as a live performer. I got to go to the rehearsal. My dad is a really huge fan, and he got me into them. But it wasn’t just me. It was me and my dad and the camera crew and sound guys.”

“
Wow.” He shook his box of cigarettes, then did that annoying tapping on the box that apparently “packed the tobacco.”

It was an incredibly annoying spectacle. I wanted to say,
If you’re going to smoke just do it. Don’t make it some big show.
But even with those sentiments, I couldn’t stop myself from watching him do it. And even though I hated smoking, I could sort of see how some people might be able to give it that old Hollywood, James Dean cool look. Sort of.