Skin (11 page)

“I’ll get there if you want me to.”

This is really happening. If I want it to. If I don’t go flying away toward infinity. If I don’t tell him the truth. But I have to tell him. I have to. “Your eyes are gray-green.”

“Yours are rich chocolate.”

“Your skin is tan from all that football practice.”

He smiles. “Your skin is like a giant olive. I love olives.”

I swallow. “I’m changing color.”

He blinks. “I think I got that. With the lipstick stuff.”

“It’s more than that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Is that all you have to say?”

“I… I don’t know. We’ve been talking a lot. I was sort of hoping we could try not talking. For a little while. Do you think we could try that? Try not talking?”

“There’s something I should probably tell you.”

“For a little while? Not talking just a little while? Could we try it?”

His lips are so close to mine I can almost feel them. Like a force. Only he isn’t forcing anything. He asks so nicely I could cry.

He puts a hand on my cheek.

I want to press against his hand. I want to move my lips to his. I want, I want. He’s so close I can hardly see him. Like a blur.

His lips move to my other cheek. They brush softly back and forth and now from the center of my cheek toward my mouth. And they press on mine just the slightest.

And I’m kissing him, too, soft, miraculously soft. Oh, thank you, thank everything that is good and bright.

But now my hands are on the sides of his head, moving on their own, and I’m kissing his forehead and temples and cheeks and eyelids and nose. I’m out of control, kissing so fast. I think I’m going to pass out, but I don’t—and I can’t stop. I must be crazy. And we’re kissing on the lips again and it’s not soft anymore. And all that matters is knowing his lips.

He stands up and pulls me with him and I’ve never been handled like this before, or not since I was a little girl, and it feels good to be moved around, to have someone in charge, and his eyes stay on mine and I know he’s asking, but silently, asking, and he lies down, taking me with him, and I’m on top, our full lengths hugging. My breath is short and there is nothing, nothing anywhere ever, as good as these kisses.

I TYPE: “NEED 2 TALK.”

Devin answers: “y?”

She’s been like this. It took nine hundred texts all morning to even get her to answer. I type: “need to talk.”

There’s a long wait.

Finally, Devin answers: “k.”

Good. “ur house in 5.” I race down the stairs.

“What’s the rush, Slut?” Dante’s leaning into the closet under the stairs where he keeps his skateboard.

I zip over and kiss him on the cheek. He goes to rub it off, but I catch his wrist. “If you rub, you’ll just smear Hazelnut lipstick all over.”

“Great. So now I have to go wash my face.”

“Keep it. Maybe the guys will think you have a secret lover. You can pretend you’re the coolest ninth grader ever.”

“What’s going on? You’ve been grumpy all week. Now you’re acting happy.”

“Wow. I guess you’re right. Kill me.”

He shrugs. “You can be happy if you want.”

I leave.

I can be happy if I want.

Last night Joshua said he’d get there if I wanted him to.

What I want and what I can have—there’s such a gulf in there, no matter what Dante and Joshua say. But right now, this moment, I’m concentrating on what I want.

Devin’s walking toward me on the sidewalk. Good old Devin. Best friend Devin. I run and hug her and my heart’s beating so hard, I can’t hear anything. I’m spinning with her around and around.

She laughs. “Whoa! What’s going on, Sep?”

That’s just what Dante asked me.

“I have something to tell you.”

“I’m listening.”

“I know I’ve been a jerk all week. I’m sorry.”

Devin’s eyes cloud. “You were snobby. Like you thought you were better than me.”

“What? I would never think that. I was PMS-ing and then there’s been, well, stuff going on.”

“It’s okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She smiles. “Hey, want to hear about Becca’s party?”

“Sure.”

“It wasn’t horrible. I swear. Everyone was there. Not the whole time, but people kept coming in and out all night. And I danced with lots of people.” She pauses. “And with Charlie.” That last part comes out like a cross between an announcement and an admission.

“Really?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t boring.”

“I never thought he was. You’re the one who always said that.”

“He was nice.”

“Nice? Like nice nice?”

She nods, her head bobbing like a toy Buddha on a dashboard.

“Good.” I grin. “That’s good, Devin. He’s had his eye on you for a long time.”

She shrugs again. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Well… where were you, anyway?”

“I babysat Sarah.”

“Babysat? What’s the matter with you? You didn’t go to the party just to take care of that little monster?”

“She’s not that bad. She’s just a handful. And I had a good time.”

“A good time with Sarah?”

“Someone came over.”

“Someone came over?”

“Joshua.”

“Joshua? Joshua Winer? You don’t mean Joshua Winer?”

“He’s nice.”

She looks stupefied. “Nice?”

I laugh. “Juicy.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“Why not? We used to be friends.”

“God, do I know. I was jealous of him all fifth grade. You played with him more than you played with me. I think I actually hated him. But then he turned into a giant snob in sixth grade. And I was so glad.”

“He’s not a giant snob now.”

“Clearly. So what happened?”

“We talked.”

“And?”

“We kissed.”

“You made out with Joshua Winer? Joshua Winer,
Joshua Winer? One of the most popular guys in school? Captain of the football team?”

Joshua is captain of the team. He got chosen at the end of last year. I forgot that. I actually forgot that, I’m so stupid about those things. Captain, and he’s only a junior. “I guess so. Yeah.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah. Oh my God. And my lipstick didn’t even come off.”

“You made out with Joshua Winer and you worried about your lipstick? What are you, crazy?”

“Maybe.”

“When did this happen?”

“Last night.”

“No, I mean when did the two of you start liking each other?”

“I don’t know. He just kind of appeared. In the lunchroom a couple of days. Then at Sarah’s house.”

“And you didn’t tell me anything?”

“I’m telling you now. There was nothing to tell before now.”

“What about Sharon Parker?”

“I don’t know.” It’s my turn to shrug.

“You didn’t ask him?”

“No.”

Devin tilts her head. “Well, that might be dumb. You want to know, right?”

“Did you see her last night?”

“Her crowd didn’t come.”

“Joshua did. But he left.”

“To see you.” Devin’s mouth twists in worry. “So when are you going to see him again?”

“That’s the thing, Devin. There’s a game tonight. Want to go with me?”

“So you can jilt me when it’s over?”

I laugh. “Something like that. He asked if he could see me afterwards.”

“I can’t believe it. This feels like the old days—you and Joshua, and me on the outside looking in.”

“Oh! Oh, I didn’t mean it that way.” What an idiot I was to laugh. “You’re right, of course. I don’t want to be one of those stupid girls who gets a boyfriend and then forgets everyone else. But…”

“Shut up. I was joking. If he wants to see you afterwards, you’ll go with him. And that’s how it should be.”

“Thanks. And it won’t be lots of times, I promise. He’s not going to be with me long. It might just be tonight and that’s it.”

“Don’t say that. You’ll doom it at the start.”

“It’s already doomed.” I hold the back of my hand in front of her eyes. I should say something, but I can’t talk. My stupid tongue has gone flabby. My eyes sting. And there’s that heartburn again.

“What’s that? That white spot?”

I swallow.

Then I tell her.

“WELL IF IT ISN’T Slut and Friend of Slut.” Dante walks into the backyard and looks down at us. We’re lying on the old picnic blanket. Dante was smiling at first, but now that he’s seen us, his face changes. The smile is still there, as if pasted on—it’s his eyes that give him away. They look a bit frantic. Sort of like a startled wild animal. He clearly thinks he’s caught us doing something totally whack. He glances over at the bottle beside us. “Is that my Selsun Blue?”

Rattle wakes from whatever grog-land he was in, stands, and bumps into Dante’s legs in greeting.

“You can have it back. We didn’t take much.”

Dante points at me. He wags his finger as though he’s going to talk. Then he picks up the bottle and walks toward the house. Then he turns around and walks back. “Why did you two put dandruff shampoo on your lips?”

“Not just lips. I put it on the spot on my hand, too. There’s a chance I have a fungus under my skin instead of vitiligo. From what I read, it’s probably close to a point zero zero one chance. But I’m humoring Dr. Ratner, because these days I need people to humor me and I figure what goes around comes around or whatever that saying is. Your shampoo could kill the fungus.”

He looks slightly relieved. “Why aren’t you doing this in the privacy of the bathroom?”

“The sun has its part.”

“About the bathroom…,” Dante scratches the back of his neck. “Do you have to leave your stool sample thingamajig on the back of the toilet?”

“I only have one day left. But I’ll move it.”

“Thanks. Tim and Zach are coming over. They like you for some odd reason, but they don’t like you that much.” Dante keeps standing there, looking at us. His forehead wrinkles. “Hey, Friend of Slut, do you have white lips, too? I thought this thing wasn’t contagious.”

Devin smiles wickedly. “Want to kiss me and find out, big boy?”

Dante jumps backward, but he might be only half kidding.

I laugh. “Don’t freak, Squirt. It’s not contagious. You won’t get it. Devin’s just being my friend, doing what I have to do.”

“I wouldn’t put shampoo on my lips for a friend.”

“It’s called solidarity. It’s a girl thing.”

“I wouldn’t ask a friend to put shampoo on his lips for me.”

“I didn’t ask. That’s the whole point of solidarity. You don’t have to ask.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a girl thing, all right. All those unspoken messages.”

“Well, well, well,” says Devin. “Is that the voice of experience? Has little Dante been talking with girls? Do you have a girlfriend?”

Dante strikes a beefcake pose. “All the girls are my friends.”

“Oooo.” Devin claps her hands.

He laughs. “Sep, you better get your solidarity ass up to the kitchen, ’cause Mom wants you peeling peaches.”

Peach chores. I love our peaches. But the first week of September is always a giant pain because all the peaches come ripe within days of each other.

“I’ll help.” Devin stands up and brushes off the back of
her pants. “It’s been almost a half hour anyway. And you said it wasn’t a good idea to go over.”

“You don’t want to help, believe me. ‘Peeling peaches’ doesn’t mean just peeling peaches. It means washing them, cutting out the rot, peeling, pitting, cutting into small pieces, and freezing in containers that hold just the right amount for pies.”

“I love your mom’s peach pies.”

“All nine hundred of them? Come on, let’s go wash our lips.”

Five minutes later we’re in the kitchen. My cell is heavy in my pocket. Devin already texted Charlie. He answered her immediately. I get the distinct feeling that Devin is on her way to getting what she’s been waiting for her whole life. It seems so obvious. And so simple.

Envy makes my stomach churn. That’s what I want: simple.

We peel and pit. Devin really is into solidarity.

Dante and Tim and Zach zip through the kitchen at random intervals, stealing peaches. It pisses me off when they steal the ones we’ve already prepared for freezing. But it doesn’t really matter.

The cell in my pocket is silent.

We cut and put peaches in containers and pop them into the freezer.