Perfect You (7 page)

"Hey," he said. That wasn't normal either. Will didn't notice me when I came into class.

At least not like this.

I felt shaky, and my palms were wet with sweat. I had to say something to him. Anything.

Even I knew that much.

But I couldn't.

I couldn't because if I did say something, said, "Hey," back, then what? Will would want to date me and Dad would get a real job and Grandma would fly home and never come back and Anna would be my best friend again?

None of those things were going to happen, not ever, and I didn't want that kiss to become something like that. I didn't want it to be one good memory that led to a lot of bad ones. I wanted it to stay what it was, one amazing moment, something that was strong and sweet enough to stand on its own. Something I could remember without any pain.

It was a good thing I didn't say anything too, because Will looked away. He didn't say anything else to me. He didn't mention the kiss.

I hadn't expected him to, but deep down, in a tiny, hopeful place I hated, it stung that he hadn't. But really, why would one kiss mean anything to Will?

Especially when it clearly didn't. After lunch, as I threw my empty soup cup away, I saw Will come into the cafeteria. He was laughing, and when one of his friends elbowed him he turned, puckering his face into an exaggerated fish-faced kiss. A joke.

I didn't have to guess what--and who--it was about. I felt stupid for being so nervous before. For spending so much time thinking about that kiss. For thinking it was amazing.

I was angry, too. I knew he was just a guy and there were plenty more in the world, but I wasn't going to get a chance to do my first kiss over again and it wasn't fair that it had been ruined.

I faked a headache in my last class and got a pass to the nurse's office. I didn't go there, though. I went to the gym. I knew Will's schedule, and last period he worked in the coaches' office because the internship he was supposed to have ended when the sponsoring company went bankrupt.

I was walking past the trophy case when the gym office doors flew open and Anna came out, her arms so full of photocopies that all I could see was the top of her head. One of the copies slithered off the top of the pile and hit the floor.

"Crap," she said, and then kicked off one of her shoes, nudging the copy with her foot. I saw her toes try to grab it, and suddenly thought I might cry.

She was still Anna. My Anna, who could pick things up with her toes and who once, on a bet, had picked up two quarters in a row. Twice. Todd had to drive us to the movies, pay for our tickets, and buy us popcorn because of that.

"Here," I said, and picked up the copy, handing it to her.

She froze for a moment and then said, "Can you put it on top of the stack?"

I did.

"Thanks," she said, sliding her shoe back on and gingerly shifting the stack of copies to the side a bit, just enough so I could see her face. She was grinning, actually grinning. "I guess the wonder toes don't work like they used to. I guess my glory days ended with the quarters, huh?"

I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. She'd talked to me. After months of silence, she'd talked to me.

"I thought Todd's head was going to explode when we both ordered large popcorns,"

she continued, and made a face, a mirror of Todd's expression as it had been that night.

"Oh, I know," I said, laughing as I remembered how mad he'd been, and because I was so happy she was talking to me. Finally, she was talking to me. "The best thing, though, is that I actually caught him trying to do it later and he couldn't."

Anna grinned again. "Not everyone has my wonder toes. I loved how your dad used to say that. 'Anna and her wonder toes!' My dad hardly ever noticed me and . . . well." She gave me a look, and it was a real Anna look, sad and strong at the same time. "You know how he is."

I did. "Have you talked to him lately?"

"He called last week," she said, her voice suddenly wobbly. "He's getting married again.

Her name is Becky and she's great, she's wonderful, he wouldn't shut up about her. And then he didn't even ask me to come to the wedding."

"You must be so pissed," I said. "I swear, if you looked in the dictionary, his picture would be right next to the word 'ass.'"

She laughed. "It should be, shouldn't it? And I am pissed. Everyone's told me how sorry they are, but no one's seen . . no one else has seen how mad I am. God, I miss you so--"

She broke off and looked at the floor, then shook her head. "I gotta go," she said, talking so fast the words practically fell over each other, and before I could say anything, before I could even think anything, she walked off.

I stared after her, stunned. She missed me. She remembered the quarter thing. She remembered being friends with me.

Anna missed me.

I looked around, my mind spinning. Maybe I could find her and we could talk, really talk.

She must have the period free, running errands for cheerleading or something, and if I caught up to her now--

"So, wonder toes. I guess now I know how to become a successful cheerleader."

Will. He was leaning against the wall by the gym door, hands in his pockets.

"Did you just stand there and listen to us talk?"

"What was I going to do, say, 'Hey Anna, sorry to bother you while you're messing with Kate's mind, but can you not turn the photocopier off when you're done with it because some of us have stacks of health forms to copy'?"

Now I remembered why I'd come down here. "She wasn't messing with me. She was talking to me. But then I wouldn't expect you to know the difference, you pig dog weasel loser."

"Wow," he said, sounding surprised and a little angry. "You kiss me, ignore me, and now you're calling me names? That seems a little strange, but then you're--"

"I kissed you? Is that the story you're telling?"

"Now I'm telling stories about you?"

"I saw you at lunch." "Lunch? I didn't say anything about you at lunch."

"Right. Funny thing, I don't trust liars."

"Fine," he said, and yanked his shirt collar to the left, baring a mouth-shaped bruise near his collarbone. "Someone saw this earlier, I've been getting shit for it all day, and so at lunch I threatened to give everyone one of their own." He made the face I'd seen him make before.

"So your friends run around looking down your shirt? And I didn't give you that . . .

thing."

He laughed. "Sure. It was just some girl who shares your name and looks just like you.

And I'd like to see you try to hide this all day. Are you part vampire?"

I started to laugh, then stopped myself. "Look, I didn't do--"

"What? Give me this?" He moved toward me, touching the bruise with one finger.

"Should I refresh your memory?"

"You're not funny," I said, and poked his chest with one finger.

He grabbed it and leaned in, pressing his lips to my neck right below my ear. I felt the warmth of his mouth, a sharp quick nip from his teeth, and then he was grinning at me again.

"Now we match."

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open to somewhere around my knees. His grin faded and that look, the intense one from last night, came back again. The bell rang and he didn't move. The look didn't change. I heard people coming out into the hallways, a wave of sound building toward us.

He kept looking at me. I wasn't sure I was still breathing.

"Miller! Where the heck are those copies?" someone yelled, and I looked over and saw one of the coaches frowning at us.

Will blinked, like he was waking up, and looked over at the coach. I walked away, promising myself I'd figure everything out later.

Instead, I ended up kissing Will again.

Work was boring, and by seven, the mall was pretty much

deserted. Dad went off to buy himself a coffee, and Mom stopped by right after he left.

"You just missed Dad," I said. "Coffee run."

She didn't seem surprised. "So, how are things?"

"Slow. Also, Dad gave Todd fifty bucks for some audition he claims to have, but I bet Todd's just going to--"

"Kate," she said in her warning voice, "aren't you a little old for this?"

"Isn't Todd a little old to be living at home?"

She sighed. "When I asked how things were, I meant with you. You've been so quiet about everything lately. I don't know how your classes are going, or if you're dating anyone--"

"Mom, please. Do I look like the kind of girl guys want to date?"

"Yes," she said, like I'd asked the silliest question in the world, and I looked down at the floor so I wouldn't do something embarrassing like hug her in public.

"School's fine," I muttered. "And no guys."

"What about Anna?"

"I saw her today."

Mom and Dad knew what had happened with Anna, sort of. I'd said we weren't talking as much now that she had a boyfriend. There are some things you just can't tell parents, and "Hey, my best friend thinks I'm a loser" is one of them. They think stuff like that isn't possible, which is sweet, but wrong.

"That's good. I thought I saw that boyfriend of hers the other day, but he was with a redhead so I guess it wasn't him." Her stomach rumbled, and she blushed.

"Hungry, Mom?"

She sighed again. "When I got home tonight, I made dinner, and the first thing Mother--

Grandma--says to me is, 'Darling, you aren't twenty anymore, so don't eat like you are.'

I'd been looking forward to boxed macaroni and cheese all day, and she ruined it for me."

"I'm sorry," I said, and rested my head on her shoulder for a second. Poor Mom.

Grandma was annoying, but she wasn't my mother. "You should find Dad and have coffee with him."

"I can't. I've got an interview." "Interview?"

"Selling cosmetics in the department store Dad's banned from," she said, and gave me a weak grin. "If I get the job, he'll have to sneak in to visit me. Can you see him doing that?"

Sadly, I could. "But why would you want to work there when you already have a . . . Oh.

You're getting a second job. We need money that badly?"

"Well, I guess I don't have to wonder if you've noticed we're having money problems,"

she said.

"Mom, why don't you ask Dad to go back to work?" I said, but she didn't answer, just shook her head, silencing me as Dad called out, "Sharon?" from the end of the corridor that led out into the main part of the mall.

"I have to go," she said, and went to meet Dad. The two of them talked briefly, far enough away so I couldn't hear them, and when Dad got back he told me to take a break.

"Did Mom tell you why she's here? Because it doesn't seem fair that she has to get another job so you can sit here with these stupid . ." I trailed off, shamed by the shock and hurt in his eyes. "Dad, I--"

"Kate, please go take a break," he said, and his smile was so horribly fake I practically ran away from the booth.

I felt bad for making him upset, but I was mad too. I didn't ask for him to fall in love with stupid vitamins. I didn't ask to work in the mall. I didn't ask to have things get so screwed up that Grandma had to come out.

For once, I wished he and Mom were the kind of parents who yelled at each other. But Dad was incapable of getting mad, and any time Mom did get upset with him, they always talked about it in private, and worse, acted like everything was fine in front of me and Todd.

I went down to the food court but didn't feel like sitting there surrounded by people with shopping bags and sodas who were having fun at the mall. It just made me think about how the mall was the last place I wanted to be anymore.

I went outside, the food court's neon glow casting bright shadows, and saw Will. He was in his Sports Shack uniform, wolfing down a burger like he hadn't eaten all day. There was a little bit of mustard right above his upper lip, and when he saw me, he licked it away, swallowing his last bite, and then looked at me, the food court lights shading his face strange colors.

The way he was looking at me made me think about earlier, and I put a hand to my neck. His mouth hadn't left a mark, but I swear I still felt it.

He grinned at me then, like he knew what I was thinking, and I don't know what it was about his smile, but when I saw it, school and my parents and Anna and vitamins and everything else didn't matter. I couldn't even think about any of it.

And I liked that feeling. I liked it a lot.

I wanted to feel it again, in fact, and when he said "Hey," just like he had that morning, I said, "I gotta go back to work, but I'll be at our storage locker behind Toy World in about ten minutes."

He looked at me, his eyes impossible to read, but from the way he'd stilled, I knew I'd surprised him.

That made two of us.

I couldn't believe what I'd just said. I never did stuff like this, not ever. Anna was the one who had ideas and who was never afraid to say what she thought. Anna was the one who dared to do stuff, who talked me into getting my ears pierced even though I was afraid, who'd turned herself into someone new. I just followed her lead, happy to go where she wanted. And then she was gone and I had turned quieter, pulled into myself. I guess that one kiss with Will had destroyed part of my brain.

Or, deep down, I really wanted another moment like the one I'd had last night. I wanted to kiss him again.

But when I got back into the mall, the momentary surge of whatever it was that had made me talk to him like that faded, and after several minutes of standing in the corridor that led toward our storage space, I leaned against the wall and sighed.

I couldn't do it. It was a mistake, and I knew it. I had to go back to work.

Besides, what were the odds he'd even show up?

Low. Nonexistent, even, because when Dad sent me to grab a few bottles of Garlic Gels for a display he wanted a couple of minutes after I got back to the booth, Will wasn't there.

Disappointment washed over me, and I told myself I was being stupid, that I knew he wouldn't have shown.

I still felt disappointed anyway.

I looked at the shelves Dad had stacked full of vitamins, and started digging around for the Garlic Gels. I found a box of them wedged in the back and pulled them out, blowing out a breath at the weight.