Playing with Matches (12 page)

It was Amy, the flat of her hand on my chest.

“You have a girlfriend,” she said, half angrily, half mockingly. She punctuated each syllable with a jab to my ribs.

Girlfriend? Oh yeah, Melody. The secrets, the bonding, her shirt off in the barn. That’s right. Girlfriend.

“You mean Melody? She’s not my girlfriend.”
Who said that? Ah, it was me.

Amy looked at me with raw disbelief.

“Seriously,” I lied. “I asked her to the dance, but it’s just a friend thing.”

Amy arched her thin eyebrow. “You’re telling me the truth?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh-huh. I think you should leave, Leon.”

This was more like it. Amy was realizing she shouldn’t have kissed me. I wandered toward the door.

She touched my shoulder as I had one hand on the knob. “But, Leon, after the dance, give me a call. I’d really like to see you again.”

We kissed again. And again. I tried to lead her back to the couch, but she held me at arm’s length.

“Mom will be back soon. But thanks for coming over. Maybe sometime you can take me for a ride in that heap of yours.” She blew me a kiss. I nearly broke my nose on the door before I remembered to open it before leaving.

I walked across Amy’s yard in a daze. Half of me wanted to scream at the heavens in joy, while the other half just wanted to scream at the heavens.

Amy kind of liked me! Amy had kissed me! Amy wanted to go out with me!

And I was going to have to pretend like this night didn’t happen.

Right?

By the time I got home, everyone was asleep. I played a lone answering machine message.

“Leon? It’s Melody. I was calling to see if you wanted to get some Taco Barn food after the game, but I guess you went out. Anyway, I got my shoes and purse for the dance today. I’m really excited. Can’t wait to see you Monday.”

Shit.

21

DEVIL’S ADVOCATE

R
ob talked nonstop about baseball as I drove him to school that Monday. He’d been talking to me about the St. Louis Cardinals for over ten years. It didn’t bother him that I’d never watched a game.

I tuned him out, grunting occasionally so he’d think I was listening. I had bigger things on my mind.

I had kissed Amy. Actually, Amy had kissed me! And called me cute and asked me out. It was exactly how I’d always pictured it (except without the baby oil and silk sheets).

I was scum. I already had a girlfriend! Someone who’d told me her secrets. A girl who convinced me to ride a horse. A girl who let me take her top off and implied that we’d do more someday. What was I doing kissing someone else?

I should have known better than to go to Amy’s house. In retrospect, I realized I’d been secretly hoping that something would happen.

Rob was pounding the dashboard, ranting about something that had gone on at the Cards/Cubs game the night before. Hopefully he’d take my frustrated growling as a sign that I agreed with him.

If only I’d asked Amy out the year before. Maybe she would have said yes. Hell, I could be taking her to the dance instead of…

I was suddenly horrified by the thought. I was happy with Melody!
Happy! Do you hear me? Happy!

I turned into the MZH parking lot at fifty miles per hour, banged over a curb, nearly took out Pete’s shack, and fishtailed into my space. Rob stared at me with a rare look of genuine anger.

“Sorry,” I said with a shrug. “The freakin’ Cubs. Always get me pissed.”

“I’m taking the bus home today.”

Guilt bred paranoia. When I ran into Dan that morning, he leered at me and, pointing an accusing finger, loudly whispered, “You did something bad!”

Not stopping to remember that Dan was always saying things like that, I grabbed him by the arm and hurled him into the men’s room.

“How did you know?” I demanded.

Dan’s temporary look of shock turned to one of glee. “You really
did
do something bad? Tell me, tell me!”

I had to get a hold of myself. I had no idea what I was going to do about Amy, but if I didn’t pull it together, I was going to blurt the whole thing out. I needed to talk to someone.

Dan was rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Did you burn down a church? Beat up a nun? Rebroadcast accounts of this game…”

I couldn’t talk to Rob or the twins about my dilemma, and definitely not Samantha. (There were no secrets when two girls were involved.) I couldn’t even tell my parents. I needed someone I didn’t know very well who wouldn’t give me any high-toned lectures on morality and goodness….

“Did you not wash your hands before returning to work?” Dan continued to guess.

I braced myself. It was worth a shot.

“Dan, could I ask you for some advice? Some
serious
advice.”

Dan stopped twitching and wringing his hands. “Um, okay.”

“You can’t tell anyone what I’m going to tell you. You have to promise me.”

I expected a nod and maybe a handshake, but Dan clasped his hand to his chest, whispered something like
“Chthulhu fh’tagn!”
and spit into a urinal.

“That’s an unbreakable oath,” he said in response to my baffled expression.

“Whatever. Here’s the deal, Dan. You know that Melody Hennon and I are kind of dating, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…last night, Amy Green and I…kissed.” Was I asking Dan for advice or bragging? “And I told her Melody was just my friend. She wants me to call her.”

Dan looked confused for a moment, then bared his crooked fangs. “Ah, the sins of the flesh are the most subtle. We try to walk the straight and narrow path, but when we spy lady fair, with golden brow, and quaking lips, and big ol’ knockers…Well, go on.”

“So I should just tell Amy no, right? Just forget that ever happened. Right?”

Dan cleaned his ear with his pinkie. “Well, I don’t have a lot of experience with the fairer sex, believe it or not. But looks to me like you have two choices. You can cheat on Melody and forever hate yourself for doing that to her. Or you can pretend last night didn’t happen—I’m sure Amy’s not exactly shouting it from the rooftops—and hate yourself for giving up such a hot little succubus.”

“A what?”

“A hot chick.”

Despite the overwhelming evidence that Dan was schizophrenic, he had pretty much cut to the quick of things.

“I guess I have to do the right thing.”

“You’re asking
me
?”

“Thanks, Dan.” I turned to go.

“Leon? One more thing. Don’t tell Melody what you did. That’s playing with fire, man.”

Melody stood by her locker, carefully organizing her books. I slouched in a doorway, sizing her up like a mugger.

Now that she wore a wig, she looked perfectly normal from behind. Slim figure, nice legs, pert little butt. How could I have cheated on her? We had a good thing. But as I thought that, Melody turned and faced me.

Even from down the hall, you could see how mutilated she was. She was the kind of girl who turned heads, the sort of person people talked about when she was out of earshot.

That poor thing. I wonder what happened to her. How does she live like that?

And I was her boyfriend. She made me happy. But maybe, just maybe, I was settling. Melody was the first girl who had ever really noticed me. But now Amy liked me too, and I was just going to give that up. I felt like I was cheating myself.

Melody turned and saw me stalking her. Her lips spread into a smile, and I couldn’t help smiling back. Two seconds later, I was standing next to her.

“I missed you this weekend, Leon.”

“I’m sorry. I had to, um, do some things.”

She took my hand. I touched her delicate wrist.

“It’s okay, Leon. You don’t have to report in.”

Great.
If she had been mean and sniping, I could have forgiven myself for kissing Amy. But of course, Melody was perfectly understanding. She had no idea that the day before, I’d denied dating her.

We stood there, talking until long after the bell rang. As Mr. Jackson fumbled for his tardy slips, I thought about my girlfriend. Smart, funny, and with a nice rear end.

Amy smiled at me as I passed her table, and I winked back. Melody or not, it was nice to be noticed.

22

SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR ME

I
n speech class once, Dan had given a somewhat incoherent report on the history of the straitjacket. He mentioned that American restraining jackets buckled behind the back, while British ones latched behind the neck.

I recalled this as I attempted to assemble my tuxedo. Never had I been so itchy, uncomfortable, and ridiculous-looking. A canvas straitjacket would have felt less restrictive than this thing.

I looked in the mirror. The rented clothes did little to mask the fact that I was not a tux type of guy. I looked like a contestant in one of those reality shows where they set up nerds with sexy women for comedic results.

Dad knocked on the bathroom door, then came in.

“Leon, you look great.”

“I look stupid.”

He sat down on the toilet lid. “Yeah, you do. I think you have to be Sean Connery to look good in one of those things.”

Dad was nothing if not truthful.

“Listen, Son, there’s something we need to talk about.”

I knew what he was going to say. I braced myself for the awkward speech.

“I know you and Melody have been seeing each other for a while, and I know this dance will be special for both of you.”

I recombed my hair, being sure not to make eye contact.

“And, well, I know you’ll be out late, and I know, um, well, you know…” I hadn’t seen him this uncomfortable since he’d gone for his colonoscopy.

“Dad, I promise we won’t—”

He cut me off. “Son, I’m not saying you should or you shouldn’t. But, um…” He suddenly froze, unable to continue. “Just take these!” He thrust a package at me and hurried out of the bathroom.

I removed the small box from the drugstore bag. A month earlier, I never would have needed protection. And now, that night, with Melody…would I actually have a chance to use them? Maybe that night would be the night.

Did I really want Melody to be the first girl? I might not get another chance for years. Then again, after making out with Amy, maybe I was selling myself short. We’d smiled at each other during chemistry all week but never talked. And that was what I needed to keep doing. No more talking to Amy. No more thoughts about those kisses and how she wanted to go for a ride. I had to forget about her—which would be impossible to do without a head injury or electroshock equipment.

Mom insisted on taking several dozen pictures of me. To her, it was like I was on my way to my coronation as pope rather than a high school dance.

“Leon, are you sure you can’t stop by here with Melody? I’d really like to get your picture together.” I thought Mom had always regretted not having a daughter, someone she could dress up in lace and ribbons. The best she could hope for was to see my date all dolled up.

“Mom, I told you, she lives way out by Cottleville. We’ll be late if we have to drive back here.” Actually, I just wanted to spare Melody the inspection by my parents.

“Well, be sure to get your portrait taken.” She had given me the money, so there was no way out of it.

Dad slipped me a couple of bucks. I had breath mints in one pocket and a three-pack of condoms in the other. I was off.

As I drove to Melody’s, ninety percent of my thoughts centered on how to convince her to go for a long drive in the country. But that nagging ten percent kept reminding me that Amy had told me to call her.

Now, Melody wasn’t one of those unattractive girls who became beautiful the second they put on their fancy prom dresses. But when she stepped into her living room, I was shocked at how nice she looked.

Her dress was green and bared her shoulders. She was wearing high heels and was now a bit taller than me. She carried a matching purse and was wearing a necklace and a bracelet (the first jewelry I’d ever seen on her). Her hair was up. It occurred to me later that you couldn’t style a wig; she must have bought another one for this night. She was wearing makeup. Her scars were just as obvious, but it did bring out her eyes and lips.

“You look great, Melody.” She did. I’d never seen her so pretty. Her parents stood beaming at me, and I had to make a special effort to not look her in the chest.

I strapped a corsage to her wrist and suffered while her dad filmed us. He seemed proud of his daughter, but there was a chill in the air. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing as my dad.

It was awkward to hold the car door for your date when it opened only from the inside, but somehow I managed. Melody smiled. She pulled down the visor to touch up her makeup. When she realized the mirror was gone, she used her compact.

“Leon, thanks for doing this.”

One of my headlights was dead, and I had to squint to see Melody’s unlit street. I almost missed the significance of what she’d said.

“Wait a minute. ‘Thank you’? Why are you thanking me?”

“Well, I just really appreciate this. I’ve always wanted to go to one of these.”

I swerved to avoid a pothole. “Mel, let’s get one thing straight. I’m not doing you any favors. I should be thanking you.” I sure as hell didn’t want her to think this was a pity date. “It’s my pleasure to take my
girlfriend
to the dance.”

There. I’d said it. I couldn’t take that back. Sure, Amy had kissed me. She had even asked me to call her. And all week long she’d been smiling at me in chemistry. Even the twins noticed that. But Melody was the one I was with. That was just the way it was.

“Thank you, Leon….”

“I’m warning you, Melody….”

We both laughed. As I turned onto the main road, I slipped my hand onto the back of Melody’s neck. It was unscarred and I enjoyed the smoothness. I also enjoyed the feel of her bare skin. She didn’t seem to mind as I traced her shoulder blades with my fingers.

“Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“I have to be home by midnight tonight. For real.”

I pulled my hand away.
Point taken.

“But,” she continued, “my parents are going out of town next weekend.”

This conversation had taken an interesting turn. “Yes?”

“And Tony is spending the night with some friends.”

Deep within the confines of my tux, I began to sweat.

“Yes?” My voice squeaked.

“And…um…maybe you could come by.”

“I’d like that.”

I jammed my foot down on the accelerator and we zoomed off into the night. Actually, my car was incapable of zooming, but we did drive less slowly.

I felt great. What the hell had I been so uptight about? Melody was wonderful, and nothing else mattered. Screw what anyone thought. Screw Dylan. Screw Amy (well, not really). Great things were going to happen with Melody. Amy was history.

Just as soon as I danced with her once.