Stacy's Song Page 10

  “So have we got a date?”

  “Not interested. Go home and get some sleep.” I started to walk away.

  “I’ll go to sleep if you’ll come with me,” he said with a leer. He put his hand on my arm.

  I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go. His hand tightened on my arm gripping me painfully. He wasn’t tall. In fact he was at least an inch shorter than me but he sure was strong.

  “Let go!”

  He laughed and I again got the benefit of his boozy breath that single-handedly could have wiped out the entire germ population of the East Coast. “Honey,” he said in a slurred voice. “I like tall girls!”

  “Buy a ticket for a girls’ basketball game,” I suggested to him.

  “Come on, let’s go!”

  I tried pulling myself free. He was starting to hurt me, trying to force me toward the exit.

  “Okay, that’s enough.” Michael came toward us. “She would like to be left alone, fella. Stop bothering her!”

  The drunk turned around. “Listen, I’d hit you if you weren’t blind. Just get out of my way. This is none of your business!”

  “Now there, you’re wrong.” Michael tried to get his hands on Idiot Boy, to yank him away from me. Mr. Gold Chains wasn’t having it. He wouldn’t let go of my arm either.

  “Stop bothering her.”

  “There’s nothing you can do about it,” he taunted.

  Soon Michael’s well-muscled arm took hold of the drunk, who staggered. Finally the other boy released me. “You asked for it,” he shouted, swinging toward Michael. He seemed so completely out of control, irrational, and unpredictable.

  I must have screamed, afraid this character would punch Michael. But Michael held on to him with one hand. The other became a fist. He avoided the boy’s blow, brought his fist around and landed a hard punch to the mid-section. I heard the wind literally go out of the jerk as he went down on the floor moaning and groaning, doubled over and holding his stomach.

  Mr. Kemp raced toward us. He had his glasses on and I realized that he must have been back in his office working on accounts. “What’s going on here?”

  “This character came in drunk and tried to get physical with us,” I told him.

  Mr. Kemp’s beefy face colored a deeper shade of red. “I’ll take care of him. You come here with anybody, kid?”

  The drunk was still dazed and replied only by shaking his head. Michael went toward the kid and took hold of him.

  “Don’t let him hit me again!”

  “Relax,” Michael replied. “I’m just searching for your car keys.” His hands quick and efficient moved through the boy’s pockets. “Here they are.” He produced the keys and held them out turning in Mr. Kemp’s general direction. “Whatever you do, don’t let him drive home. Order him a cab or get him to call his parents but don’t return the keys tonight. Make him come back when he’s sober. At least there’ll be one less drunk on the road tonight.” His voice was full of powerful emotion and it occurred to me that Michael was thinking of the accident that had killed his father and left him blind for life.

  “I’ll call for that cab.” Mr. Kemp looked over at me. “Nasty bruise on your arm.”

  Michael turned toward me. “You okay? Did he hurt you?”

  “A little, but big girls like me don’t cry.”

  Michael smiled showing his dimple. “Big girls can cry too. You have to stop exciting the men in the audience with your sex appeal.”

  “So you think,” I challenged.

  “So I know.” He took my arm and started to touch and explore it.

  “Ouch. What are you doing?”

  “Finding out how bruised you are.”

  “Quit that!”

  “Got a nasty lump.” He put his arm around me, his voice soft with sympathy.

  It agitated me being so close to him again. It was sweet torture. “I’ll put some ice on it at home.” I pulled away from him.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Maybe I should have done something sooner.”

  “No, I thought I had it under control. Thanks for caring.”

  Instead of allowing me to go, he pulled me into his arms. Where he touched me, my skin grew hot, as if I’d been seared by an electric current. My heart began to beat in a rapid staccato. On impulse, I leaned toward him and kissed him on the lips. I thought it would be just a small peck, but to my surprise, I found him kissing me back. The warmth of his lips against mine brought such wonderful sensations. I don’t think I ever felt so happy and good inside.

  Then, just as suddenly, he was pushing me away. “No, no. This is a mistake.”

  “Why?”

  He shook his head and fisted his hands, shoving them into his jeans pockets. “You shouldn’t have done that. Neither should I. Sorry. It was wrong.” He turned his back on me.

  “I hate you, Michael Norris!”

  “Of course, you do. I have that effect on people. I even hate me.”

  That was too much! I was so hurt and angry I started to cry. I didn’t mean to lose control, I just did. I honestly tried to choke back the sobs. I couldn’t stand him rejecting me. I felt raw like my skin was being cut away by a knife.

  He turned around, reached over and touched my cheek. “I thought you said big girls don’t cry.”

  “I lied! Never put your faith in old songs titles.”

  “This is for the best,” he told me. “You’ll see I’m right.”

  At that moment, he reminded me of my father. Why did they think they knew what was best? Were they inside my heart? How could they understand how I felt or what I needed? It was infuriating!

  Jimmy and Liz returned. I rubbed away any sign of tears. But when I looked over at Liz, I knew she was aware something had happened. Still, she didn’t say a word about it for which I was grateful. The anguish was too great. I don’t think I could have said anything that made any sense at that moment.

  How stupid could one girl be? It was clear what I had to do, what was best for me. I heard my father’s words in my head: one outside activity has to go. It had to be the band. That was the only sane solution to my problem. Why would I continue to put myself through this torture? But when I looked over at Michael, my heart ached. I wanted to be with him. I just wanted him!

  Forever.

  ****

  I slept late on Saturday morning and still felt tired and depressed when I got up. I avoided my father, listening carefully to make certain he left the kitchen before I went in. My mother shoved a bowl of oatmeal in front of me and I let out an involuntary groan.

  “It’s good for you. So eat it. We have to build you up again.” She gave me her no nonsense frown.

  “Couldn’t you build me up with scrambled eggs instead?”

  “Certainly, if you eat your oatmeal first.”

  “Why is it that everyone thinks they know what’s right for me? Do I strike you as a complete moron?”

  She gave me an odd look, and I realized that I was out of line talking to her that way. After all, she did mean well.

  “I’ll throw out the oatmeal, if that’s what you want,” Mom replied in a tight voice.

  “No, I’ll eat it. Only please, fix me something different tomorrow.” I ate the cereal, although I loathed the stuff, because somehow I felt that if she had to throw the oatmeal away, the love would be thrown out right along with it.

  I rested most of the day, lounged around feeling moody and doing as much schoolwork as I could stand. I was supposed to return to cheerleading that evening. There was an important basketball game. My heart wasn’t in it, but I got ready anyway. Around four in the afternoon, Greg phoned and invited me out to dinner with his friends. Since the game started at eight, he would pick me up at six-thirty.

  We went with Karen, Randy and two other couples that were friends of Greg’s. Only Karen and I were cheering, the rest would be spectators. The boys decided on burgers. Apparently a bet had been made before Greg picked me up. Karen and Randy were in the backseat. The other two cou
ples met us at the burger joint on the highway. Greg and Randy had the price of basketball tickets bet on who could eat the largest number of burgers.

  We walked inside and I sat with Karen and the other girls. The guys got down to the serious business of ordering. By the time they finished the meal, the table was littered with carnage. There were empty plastic containers everywhere. Greg wolfed down five big burgers before he quit. His other two friends stopped at four each. But to Randy went the sweet taste of victory. He polished off his sixth burger with a gulp of cola and then let out the loudest belch I’ve ever heard.

  “Oh, how gross! Totally disgusting!” Karen stood up, folding her arms over her sweater and stalked away. Randy’s smile of triumph faded from his lips. Success wasn’t always sweet after all.

  “I didn’t mean to offend her.”

  “We know you didn’t mean to be crude,” I reassured him. “I’ll talk to Karen.”

  “Thanks.” Randy looked relieved.

  I found Karen standing near some little children playing tag. Her face was flushed and she tapped her toe and frowned.

  “Come on back,” I said. “Randy feels awful.”

  “He should. He can be such a slob!”

  “I remember in an old movie someone said when you burp after a meal in an Arab home, it’s considered good manners. Shows you enjoyed your meal.”

  “Randy’s no Arab! He’s just an immature kid.” Karen’s green eyes had darkened like a storm at sea.

  “I thought you liked Randy.”

  She turned and faced me. “I do like him, but he acts like such a jerk sometimes. Not like Greg. You’re so lucky to have him. He’s awesome.”

  Funny, I wasn’t feeling all that lucky.

  After I persuaded Karen to return to the table, things calmed down. Greg kidded Randy about his appetite and we all relaxed.

  “We’re gonna have to call you the bottomless pit from now on dude.”

  “How about quicksand? That has a nicer ring.”

  “Maybe Randy the refrigerator,” one of Greg’s other friends suggested.

  “Nope, that name’s already taken,” Greg remarked.

  We sat for a while and talked together. The guys continued to joke around, poking each other. It was pleasant being with all of them. They were easy company. But when it was time to go on to the game I suddenly felt light-headed.

  “What’s wrong?” Greg asked as he steadied me.

  “No big deal. I’m still rundown and I guess my blood pressure’s kind of low. Sometimes when I’ve been sitting for a long time and I get up too fast, I start to black out, but it never lasts. I’m okay now.”

  “Are you sure?” He frowned at me.

  I told him I was good to go but as we walked out to the car I felt so tired. “Greg, I don’t think I’m going to the game after all.”

  He seemed concerned. “I’ll take you home.”

  “You’ve got to cheer tonight. Ms. Gladstone was upset when you missed those other games,” Karen said.

  “She knows I’ve been sick.”

  Karen seemed more annoyed then concerned about me.

  “Why don’t I just drop Karen and Randy at the game. Then I can take you home and we can sit and watch television together.”

  Greg could be so considerate. “Thanks, but I don’t want to spoil your evening. Just drop me off at home. I think I need to go to bed early. I’m not fully over being sick yet, I guess.”

  “Okay, if that’s what you want.” Greg shrugged.

  He might have argued with me a little more, I decided, or was I being a tad unfair to him?

  After a ride done pretty much in silence, Greg walked me to my door. He didn’t kiss me, just gave me a quick friendly hug—maybe he thought I was still contagious. Then he took off fast, so they wouldn’t be late for the game.

  When I came inside I tried to walk quietly through the foyer and up the stairs to my bedroom. But my little brother has ears like an elephant. “Stacy’s home!” he announced.

  “What?” It was my father sounding less than pleased. “Stacy, come here. I want to talk to you.” It sounded more like an imperial edict than a request.

  I walked into the living room at a slow pace.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at a basketball game tonight?”

  “I had Greg bring me home.”

  My father raised his brows, sharp lines forming in his forehead. His face was all planes and hard angles. “Weren’t you supposed to cheerlead tonight?”

  I took off my jacket and gloves. “I wasn’t up to it.”

  “You were up to playing with your band last night, weren’t you?” His voice accused me.

  I shifted my stance in an uneasy manner. “That was different.”

  My mother entered the living room. Mom listened to us as she dried her hands from cleaning up in the kitchen.

  “Why was it so different?” He wasn’t letting up.

  “It just was.” I didn’t want to explain how I felt because he wouldn’t understand anyway. He only saw one side of everything—his own.

  “I don’t want you to perform with that band anymore. Do you understand? If you don’t tell them I will.”

  Now I did feel awfully sick. I turned to my mother. “Mom, can I go lie down? I feel weak.”

  She and my father exchanged a look. He still appeared fierce like a bull watching a matador, and I half-expected him to start charging me.

  “Get some rest dear.” Mom gave Dad a gentle smile. “We don’t want Stacy upset do we?” Mom had a way of handling him. “We can talk tomorrow,” Mom stated.

  That was what I liked best about her, she never closed down the lines of communication the way Dad did. As I walked upstairs I could hear my father talking to Andy. “No more chess tonight. I’m not in the mood.”

  I wouldn’t let him make me feel guilty. Everything in my life was growing increasingly difficult. Sure, I could let Dad make my decisions for me, the way he had all my life. And then things at home would certainly be easier. I still wanted to please him and my mother. But there was something inside of me that fought against simply accepting what I was told to do. I wasn’t in rebellion against parental authority. That wasn’t it at all. I wasn’t planning to dye my hair purple, get a tattoo or pierce my navel. But I was starting to think of myself as a person, someone with rights. Like didn’t I have a right to think for myself? Couldn’t they trust me to choose my own friends and activities? It wasn’t as though I was planning on doing anything criminal!

  But was I thinking with my head or with my heart? After all, my father was an intelligent man and he’d lived a lot longer than me. Shouldn’t he know what was best?

  I got ready for bed even though it was early. I was just so worn out, exhausted, my emotions tattered. I didn’t want to think anymore about Michael or Greg, the band, cheerleading or schoolwork. I put on the little TV in my room and stretched out. I found a mindless comedy show and gratefully closed my eyes and listened. The real world floated away on a cotton candy cloud.

  Chapter Nine

  I put off making any kind of declaration. When in doubt, don’t do anything.

  I wouldn’t see the band until late the next week. I told Michael I could only stay an hour for band practice. I had Christmas shopping to do. Having been so sick I had postponed any thought of buying presents.

  Greg offered to take me shopping that evening. “It’s selfish on my part,” he explained. “I have to buy gifts for my parents, grandmother and two sisters. So if you help me with that I’ll be your chauffeur for the evening.”

  I knew in my heart I should not have shown up for band practice at all but Michael was all excited about the competition for Battle of the Bands and somehow this didn’t seem the right time to tell him I was quitting. It could wait a few more days, I decided, feeling like a lowdown coward.

  Barely an hour after rehearsal began the doorbell rang. Michael seemed annoyed at the interruption as Liz went to answer the door.

  Greg follow
ed her into the living room. “Well, I’m ready to take you shopping,” Greg said cheerfully. “So let’s get rolling.”

  Michael’s mouth turned downward. “We’re in the middle of a rehearsal here, Lawson. Why don’t you come back later?” Michael stood up and walked toward where Greg stood.

  “Look, Norris, Stacy and I have a date. Stay out of it!”

  Michael jutted his square jaw and moved closer to Greg. “This is my house. Get out!”

  “With pleasure. Stacy, please get your coat.”

  I started to move but Michael seized my arm in a viselike grip. “I want you to stay with us. What we’re doing is important.”

  “Michael, please let go of me! You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

  But he wouldn’t let go. And then, Greg was beside me. “Let her go, Norris! I swear if you weren’t blind I’d—”

  “What? Would you do this?” Michael’s hands bunched into fists; he lunged at Greg and struck one short but hard blow to Greg’s hunky bod. The air whooshed from Greg’s lungs.

  Jimmy jumped between them holding Michael away from Greg.

  “Don’t underestimate us blind people.”

  “Cheap shot, Norris! Come on Stace, I don’t want people saying I took advantage of a handicapped kid.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Go on and leave with Tom Terrific here!”

  “You don’t give me much choice do you?” I faced Michael hands on hips seething with anger.

  For his part Michael’s face was red like a blood sun. “Oh, there’s always a choice, but I think you’ve already made yours. Yeah, go with him…the cheerleader and the jock. You’re a perfect pair, one more superficial than the other.”

  “You creep!” I shouted at him. Then I grabbed my coat and followed Greg slamming the front door behind me.

  I was shaking inside as we drove away. The evening was ruined; I could barely concentrate on shopping. Michael had been impossible before, but tonight was the ultimate. He was totally out of control. What was wrong with him?

  ****

  The following school day was the last one before Christmas vacation. Everyone was in a festive mood. Besides the fact that it was Friday, we had ten days off. None of the teachers’ assigned homework, except for my physics instructor, generally referred to as the Grinch, but I knew I would have to do some studying anyway, probably quite a lot of studying. Still, it was a fun day. I felt much more calm and relaxed.