Panic, page 6
part #1 of Mass Hysteria Series
“I don’t think Pops or the local P.D. will appreciate your assessment of the young adult next door.”
“Oh, hush. Hurry and get dressed. He’s in the kitchen waiting for you. I whipped up a veggie omelet for him. Oh, and I told Dad you had another ride so he could take the car.”
I spin around to her. “Wow. Uh, please don’t read anything into this, Mama. He’s a friend. That’s it. And please don’t feed my friends. They may never speak to me afterward.”
She makes a guttural sound as she strolls out the room. “Just hurry.”
I do just that.
I glance in the mirror attached to my double closet doors. My jet-black hair is straight and hangs to the middle of my back. I’m glad I let Stacey straighten it, because my mop of curls just won’t do right now. Before I enter the kitchen, I scan my outfit once more, hoping I don’t look as if I’ve contemplated it all night. In fact, I have, but he shouldn’t be privy to that information.
“Hi Brian,” I say as I scoot around our maple breakfast table.
“Hey,” he says between bites of the omelet my mother prepared for him. My mom isn’t as great a cook as my Noona was, and I love teasing her about it. I’ll never let on how much I really love her food, though. I can’t say I understand my own reasoning with that.
“Hungry?” Mom asks me.
“No, thanks.” She gives me a strange look, and smiles. Usually, I eat big for breakfast. But I can’t bring myself to eat right now with him here. He’s almost finished, and I don’t want him waiting and watching me scarf down food.
Brian shifts his eyes from my face and trails them to my feet and back up again. The smile on his face when his eyes reach mine is enough to put my throat in my boots. “I thought I could take us both to school.”
“Sure.” I scan his plate. He has a substantial portion remaining, but he shovels half of it up his fork and stuffs it in his mouth. I can’t help the laughter that spills from me.
“What?”
“Nothing. Hurry up, molasses.”
“Molasses. I could eat circles around you any day.”
“I’ve been speed eating since I was a toddler.” I cut my eyes toward my mom, who’s standing beside the sink pretending she’s washing dishes. “The quicker I get it down, the more likely the taste won’t register.” She turns and rolls her eyes.
“We’ll just have to see,” he says, gulping a glass of orange juice.
We exit the kitchen, with my mother lingering close behind. “Have a great day.” I’m not sure if she means him or me. I wave good-bye and descend the front porch steps.
Brian drives a black Charger with a blue strip up the middle. It’s all muscle, just like him. I slip into the seat beside him and frown as the curtains on the living room window part infinitesimally. My mom is such a hoverer.
“Seatbelt.” Brian reminds me as soon as we’re both in. I buckle up and wait for him to start the car. He doesn’t start the car, though.
“I’m going to ask you a series of questions to test your friend-worthiness,” he says. “Don’t question it. Just answer as quick and honest as you can.”
“Um, okay.” Is this normal, or is he being extra?
“Do you like pop music?” Okay, I guess I have to respond to get a ride to school.
“No.”
“Do you like romantic comedy?”
The pain starts at the base of my foot and intensifies until it forces my eyes closed. It fires up my legs, across my hips, and stretches to the left side of my body.
12, 13, 14, 15… I count the number of times I’ve felt this random pain in the last six months. The pain is perhaps the most intense it’s ever been. It’s only been a few seconds, but I need to answer his question.
Except my brain doesn’t want to acknowledge anything other than the pain. I take a deep breath, release it, and continue counting.
16, 17, 18…
“You okay?” My eyes pop open and I glance over at him.
“No. Yes.”
Chapter 13
“Which is it? Do I need to get your Mom?”
“No. Definitely not. I’m okay.” His eyes narrow like he doesn’t believe me.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
“Nope.” The pain starts to dissipate.
He starts the car, pulls out of the driveway, and heads to the end of the block before I answer.
“No romantic comedies,” I say. He glances at me, but I can’t read his expression. His face is a mask.
A couple minutes pass in silence. Maybe he thinks I’m weird. Maybe he thinks my answers should be different. Maybe he—
“What are you—optimist or pessimist?” he asks.
I release a steady breath before answering. “A combination of both, perhaps. But more optimist. Why fret over things we can’t control? And let’s be honest, most things are beyond our control at our age. That’s why I exercise control in those things I can.” He doesn’t turn to me, but his face tilts into a smile.
“Eat healthy or eat everything in sight?”
Should I be honest about this? Do guys like girls with big appetites? What difference does it make? Tell the truth. “Eat everything.” He turns the car off our block and onto Hilldale Street.
“Basketball or the band—which is your team?”
“Most definitely basketball.”
“What’s your favorite number?”
“Uh… I don’t have a favorite. I like them all,” I answer.
“Dog person or cat person?” he asks.
“Dog person all day.”
“I can’t have any pets; my dad’s allergic.”
“That’s too bad.” He nods twice. “That’s okay, though. You can come over and rub Norman Bates’s belly anytime you’d like.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “I love it. You named your dog Norman Bates.”
I smile at his reaction. “Yes. One of my favorite horror movie characters.”
“So you like horror movies?”
“Definitely, yes.”
“What’s your favorite scary movie?” I laugh and he does, too. “I know that was super corny.”
“Yes, it sort of was, but hey, Scream is a cult classic now. It isn’t my favorite, but it’s solid.”
“So, what is your favorite?” he asks again.
“Halloween. The original.”
“That’s a great one. Not the best, though. My fave is Freddy Krueger. The original. That’s a scary movie. It’s perfectly portioned with hot teens, sexual encounters, comical asides, and a disturbing dude that kills you in your sleep. You can’t top that.”
I nod. “I do understand your reasoning. However, Michael Myers was able to impart fear with a simplistic plot. The minimalism of the movie is what makes it perfect. Michael is the centerpiece. He doesn’t need flair. He’s perfect by himself.”
“Agree to disagree. Both are classics, though.”
We pull into the student parking lot. He doesn’t ask another question. His hands are on the steering wheel, and he stares straight ahead at nothing. I’m not sure whether I’ve just failed this friendship test or not.
“That’s funny,” he says.
I don’t think I made a joke. “What’s funny?”
“I’m certain you’re my person.”
“You’re going to have to explain that one to me.” I comment.
“It means I tell you my deepest, darkest secrets.” I swallow hard at his words. A frown of some sort stretches across my face. I’d love to rein my emotions into submission, but I’m not certain how I’ve developed them in the first place.
“It means I can trust you. With anything.”
“So you don’t like pop music and romantic comedies either?” I ask.
He laughs. “I abhor both.”
“And you’re an optimist?” I ask.
“No. Not really. I have the philosophy one should always prepare for the worst because, yeah, sucks to be caught off-guard.”
“I understand preparation. Remember, I love control, but why lose sleep over something you can’t control? It seems I’m taking away control when my expectations are too high.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I get it. I’ve heard it. Can’t change it. I need things to happen a certain way… well, my way. When they don’t, I have the equivalent of emotional ADHD sometimes.”
“I’m not sure if guys are supposed to admit things like that,” I say.
“You’re my person. I can’t even censor what I say to you.”
“That’s okay, I won’t tell. And friends are supposed to balance each other, so I can keep you optimistic.”
He gazes at me and we hold a stare for about five seconds.
I clear my throat. “And you aren’t thinking about joining the tuba section in the band?” I break eye contact first.
“Yeah, if you join with me.” We both scoff.
“I think you may be my person, too.” That sounds like the appropriate response. The words feel right.
“This is an important decision. It shouldn’t be made lightly.”
“Why do you get to just decide?” I ask.
“I was up all night wrestling with this decision.”
“You were up all night thinking about me?” The words tumble out of my mouth before I have a chance to check the implication behind them.
He smiles. “I was.” I definitely like the idea of that. Should I say this to him, though? “Were you up all night contemplating this decision?” He asks with a serious expression.
“I’m mentally keen. I don’t need all night to make a decision.”
“That’s amazing, because no girl I know can decide anything quick.”
“So, a chauvinist also?” I inquire.
“No. Realist.”
“Maybe you’ve been associating with the wrong girls.” I say.
“Apparently, I have. I’m positive you’re my person. I won’t hold your gender against you.”
“How gracious. I appreciate that.”
“I’m in a generous mood,” he says, “and I kinda don’t have a choice, seeing that you live next door, and unbelievably, we have nearly every class together.”
“Right. In what universe does that happen?” I pause, because from what I’ve seen, guys seem more placid than females. Maybe I can ask his opinion about the notes. “Can I show you something without you freaking out? And you absolutely cannot tell anyone else.”
“You do know part of my job duty as your new guy best-friend is to ensure very little freaking-out occurs? Oh, and I’m Fort Knox with hush info.”
“Oh, okay. Good to know. And you do know you’re my only guy friend. Right?”
“Are you correcting me because you have unvoiced reservations about me being part of the bestie club with you and Stacey?” His bottom lip pokes out like he might actually be sad, but his eyes are alight with humor.
I smile. His lips pull up into a smile. He’s beautiful. I wish I could tell him this, but I don’t want any awkwardness between us. Right now, I’m in Crystal Lake and Jason’s got his axe ready for me at the bottom just for being in the friend zone. “I’m going to have to rein this conversation in a bit, because this might be serious.”
“Okay. What’s up?”
“I’ve been getting these aggressively weird notes stuffed in my locker.”
He sits straighter in his seat. “Weird how?”
“Well, I don’t think it’s normal for someone to want to slit my throat. I’d call that belligerent, actually.”
His brows furrow and his lips are a straight line as he stares at me. “Do you still have the notes?”
I grab my bag and pull it around to me. “Here.” I dig them from the corner and hand them to him.
He silently unfolds and reads each one. “This is disturbing, especially with the picture. But honestly, it could just be someone’s idea of a terrible joke. Or a jealous ex, perhaps.”
I shake my head. “No ex to be jealous. I’d go with the terrible joke.”
“Okay, so we’re calling it a terrible joke, but if you get any more, let me know right away. Now that I’m your person and bestie, I doubt anyone comes near you.”
“So you’re going to protect me from all insidious elements?”
“Duh, it’s my job now. Can I ask you a serious question?” he says. I nod. “Do you think you could beat me in a hot dog eating contest?”
I laugh loud. “What kind of question is that?” I open the car door and sling my pack across my shoulder. He does the same. “I’d beat you if it weren’t a hot dog we were eating.”
“Oh, so you think you’re real competition?” he asks.
“So, you’re only a pessimist sometimes? Because you have a lot of confidence in yourself.”
“Yeah, my pessimistic attitude doesn’t extend to my ability to do things. I think others are going to fail me.”
“Isn’t that kind of a crappy outlook? You can’t trust people.”
“I trust my parents. And I don’t think it’s crappy. I’m protecting myself from heartache.”
I contemplate his words. I don’t know heartache. The only time I felt any strong emotion was when my Noona died. Or that time Norman Bates almost got hit by a car. But I’m not sure if that was heartache. “Well, when you lose to me, you’re going to feel heartache. I don’t back down from a challenge. So bring it.”
He doesn’t say anything, but he has a smirk working at the corner of his mouth like he’s trying and failing at not laughing. I shake my head and keep walking.
As much as I hate it, his get-to-know-me-better game has me aching all over. I had a decent conversation with a guy I’m crushing on and I didn’t cringe. I cross the parking lot, with him in tow.
Once we make it to the front of the school, he doesn’t grab my hand like the day before. I’m thankful he doesn’t do it so others won’t stare, but a longing to touch him burgeons deep inside me.
Chapter 14
I push my locker open and a pink note falls to the floor. I scoop it up and glance around. Brian is posted at his locker with a couple guys from the football team. We make eye contact. I glance at the note then back up at him. He says something to his teammates then walks over to me. I hand the note to him. “Haven’t read this one yet.”
He unfolds the slip of paper and frowns. He balls the note up in his hand and looks at me.
“What did it say?”
“Let’s get to class,” he says. He cuts around me without answering my question.
I grab his shoulder. “Wait. What did it say? I need to know.”
He takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his hair. “It said a lie.”
“Um, what?”
He grabs my hand and starts toward class. I move with him. He stops at the door to Mr. Lightner’s room. “I’m going to tell you what the note said once we’re seated.” Without another word, he turns and escorts us into the class.
“Okay… I guess…”
I follow him into class and we take our seats.
“What’s there to get into around here?” he asks.
I stare at him for a second before answering. “Not much. My friends and I go to the movies. We bowl. There’s skating at Beach Park, and the pizza is worth the trip. We also go to Lake Isabella, where my best friend Stacey stargazes.”
“Stargazes,” he says with laughter in his voice.
“She’s one of those romantic types.”
“Oh.” He nods as if my explanation makes perfect sense. “The movies and bowling sound alright. Do you have plans this weekend?”
My heart beats this uncharacteristic thump, like something’s trapped in my chest and needs to escape. I take a deep breath before I respond. “Stacey, and her boyfriend Michael, and I are going to the movies on Friday and Lake Isabella on Saturday night. Oh, and my other… um friend, Crystal, might come, too. You want to come with?” I glance up at him. His brows are dark and bushy. This might be the first time I’ve ever actually evaluated someone’s brows. I note with a flip of my stomach that his are sexy.
“Most definitely,” he comments. He pauses and looks out the window beside me. “And the note said… ‘he can’t protect you.’ It said you were not going to see eighteen.” Neither of us speak for a few seconds. “That note is wrong. It’s a lie, and I will definitely protect you.” He balls his hands into a fist on the table.
What I don’t understand is why he automatically assumes he is the “he” in the note.
Sara Clemson turns, rolls her eyes at me and I shake my head. “Good luck fighting them off today,” I say. His fingers wrap around my arm and he draws me close to his side. My eyes slip shut for a nanosecond as he bends to whisper in my ear. His touch has altered me again.
I fight to listen as my body acclimates to the touch that reverberates through every synapse inside me. “Cover for me. Tell them I’ve got a girl at another school or whatever.”
Not intentionally, I frown up at him. I relax the muscles in my face to bring my emotions into check. “Tell them yourself.”
“They’re not going to come to me. They’re going to come to you because they know we’re friends. Tell them whatever you want. I don’t need that kind of attention right now.”
“Why?” I probably shouldn’t have asked, because it isn’t my business. Except, I’m curious, or maybe nosey. He designated me his person, so maybe I have this right.
His expression borders on confused and shocked for a split second. After a few seconds, a wide smile explodes across his face. “Because I’m interested in someone already.”
“Oh… okay.” I look away quickly before my features reveal what my insides feel like at his words.
***
The sky is a brilliant shade of blue and there doesn’t appear to be any rain in sight. We stand outside my house—Stacey and me. We’re waiting for everyone else to arrive so we can head to the movies.
