The Date Read online

about. Blake and I haven’t done anything, not that it’s any of your business!”

  The color in Keith’s face drained and I could see worry lines creasing his forehead. “If he’s not doing the things he’s describing to you, then who’s he doing it with?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. A sickening feeling squeezed my gut. Who was Blake talking about then?

  “Maybe he’s just trying to play off tough or something?” I suggested. My throat was tight, and my voice came out high pitched and shrilly.

  “I don’t think so.” Keith shook his head and rolled his eyes. “He’s definitely talking about stuff he’s done. If it’s not with you, then it’s with some other girl.”

  I pursed my lips and shook my foot nervously. “He wouldn’t cheat, how could he? We’re always together!”

  Keith rested his back against his pillow and folded his hands behind his head. “You’re not together right now, are you?”

  “No,” I shook my head, “but he’s at a track meet out of town.”

  A smirk spread across Keith’s features. “You so sure about that?”

  I gulped. Was Keith trying to be a jerk because he disliked Blake, or was he trying to tell me something? Trying to get me to wisen up, to see whatever my rose-colored glasses hid. I didn’t know and didn’t really want to know.

  Sigh…

  That was the beginning of the end. After that day, I noticed things unraveling in our relationship. Little things at first, like catching him doing a once-up of Kirsta as she walked by our lunch table wearing nothing more than a long, blue-striped, jersey shirt and tan leggings. She looked ready to hop into bed, not to be at school or in public. I caught him licking his lips and staring at her like she was a piece of meat or something.

  Then the bigger things started to happen, like him not showing up for lunch or him telling me his mom wanted him to stay home over the weekend. It was in my face, but I chose to ignore it, telling myself everything was ok and I had nothing to worry about.

  Keith kept it up, kept rubbing salt in the wound. Despite the fact I didn’t want to hear them, he’d tell me every horrifying, detailed story he had heard in the locker room. There were stories of licorice panties, steamy hot-tubs, and of all-night ragers. Things I never would do, let alone think of, and Keith knew it.

  I didn’t cry. The phone rang and I answered it, knowing it was Blake. Knowing it was our last conversation. Fully aware of where he had been the night before. Fully aware of what he was going to say to me, and nearly said the words exactly as he spoke them.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “No, you’re not,” I whispered back, placing the handset back in its cradle.

  I was sitting on the living room floor with my back against the wall that separated it from the kitchen. My bare feet slid effortlessly against the cool grain of the hardwood and I could hear the television blaring from my parent’s bedroom.

  I didn’t want to move. I wanted to sit here and think. On one hand, I wanted it to work out so badly. I wanted him to wait just a little bit longer, to give our love a little more time to grow. I wanted to go to prom. But on the other hand, he was a cheater and I deserved better than that. Deep down I was ok with what happened.

  My thoughts were cut short as the phone rang beside me. Thinking it was Blake calling me back to tell me it was all a big joke, and not wanting to appear desperate, I didn’t answer it right away.

  “Stacy?” my mother called from her bedroom.

  “Yeah, Mom?”

  “Are you going to get the phone?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Well then get it! That infernal ringing is giving me a headache.”

  Not wanting to listen to her moan and groan, I picked up the handset and tilted my head, holding the phone between the crook of my neck and my shoulder, freeing my hands.

  “Hello?”

  “Squirt?”

  I held my hands up in front of me, with my palms facing out, and examined the chipped paint on my nails. No need to polish them now, who did I need to impress? Myself?

  “Yeah, what? You calling to gloat?”

  There was a pause of silence.

  “No. I don’t have anything to gloat about.”

  I picked at the paint that remained stuck to my thumb. “You sure about that, Keith? You don’t play dumb well, you know.”

  Another pause.

  “Listen, Stace,” he began after taking in a deep breath, “I didn’t call to bring you down any more than I already have.”

  Just by his tone I knew I was in for a long winded speech and prepared myself by lying on the floor, resting my head on an old pile of phone books. “Whatever,” I said feeling hopeful my nonchalance would get him to drop whatever it was he was going to shove in my face.

  “I don’t want to say I told you so or rub salt in the wound, but you know the truth and you knew it way back when.”

  “Uh-huh.” Oooh-kay, so nonchalance wasn’t going to work.

  “All I’m trying to say is, Blake breaking up with you shouldn’t be a surprise. You’ve been expecting this for some time now.”

  “Mmhmm.” So much for not pouring salt in the wound, why don’t you squeeze some lemon in there too while you’re at it, Keith.

  “I just want things to go back to where they were. I want you to be the same old, happy Squirt I’ve known and loved all these years. Don’t let some fool like Blake make you feel any different.”

  “Much to your chagrin, Keith, I’m actually ok with it.”

  Silence.

  “Did you hear me?” I asked, twirling my fingers in the curls of the phone cord.

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Well? What’s with the silence?”

  “I…I guess I thought I’d have to pick up the pieces.”

  I shook my head forgetting he couldn’t see me. “No, I’m fine. Really…I am.”

  “Ok.”

  “Ok.” I heard the television click off from my parents’ bedroom which meant I only had minutes left to spare before I got scolded for being on the telephone so late. “Well, hey, my parents are going to bed so I better talk to you later, ok?” I sat up and started to put down the handset.

  “Wait, give me a sec. I have a question for you.”

  The urgency of his tone made me stop and listen.

  “Oooh-kay, shoot.”

  “I – uh – I’ve got a date and, well, I’m not sure what to do. Can you help me?” his voice trembled and it made me laugh. Something I haven’t done in, what felt like, a long time.

  “Sure, Keith, I’ll help you.”

  I could hear his sigh of relief. Since when did he get so nervous about dating?

  “Well, I’ve really got to go. I don’t need to get grounded and dumped on the same night,” I joked.

  He laughed too. A low, throaty laugh, which wasn’t one I recognized him ever doing before. “Sounds good! I’ll be over in the afternoon.”

  I heard the click of him hanging up and I replaced the handset back in its cradle. I didn’t want to dwell on the fact I’m single and Keith all of a sudden has a date. I didn’t want it to bother me that I’ll be by myself, while everyone else will have someone. Instead, I shuffled into the kitchen, grabbed a bowl, spoon, and a carton of ice cream, before walking back to my room. This night definitely deserved an ice cream counseling session.

  I slipped on my comfy pajamas, the ones with monkeys eating peppermint sticks, and climbed into bed. Feeling lazy, I didn’t bother scooping the ice cream into the bowl. Instead, I scraped it from the carton and shoveled it into my mouth as fast as I could, pausing only when my brain screamed from the cold. Hopping up and down on my mattress, fanning my face, I decided maybe ice cream wasn’t the best therapy.

  I don’t remember when I finally fell asleep, nor did I remember when or what woke me up. When my eyes opened, I twisted around to look at my alarm clock, from habit, and nearly had a heart attack. 11:34 in neon green numbers practically screamed, “You�
��re late!”

  I know I had a rough night but, holy cow! Why didn’t my parents wake me up?

  Expecting Keith to show up any minute, I jumped out of bed and into the shower. The warm water falling on my back made everything seem so much better. I didn’t even realize how badly my head and neck hurt. When I was finished, I wrapped a large green bath towel around my body and twisted my hair up into a hair clip.

  Passing the large window in the hallway, I noticed Keith’s beat up, red hatchback pull into the driveway. I quickened my step and slammed my bedroom door shut. Tossing the towel to the side, I skirted over to my bureau and pulled out a pair of sweats and a tank top. I threw my clothes on and gave my hair a quick pat down with the towel before carefully swiping a brush through it.

  I looked out my bedroom window and watched as Keith opened his car door. Good! I was fast enough to beat him to the door. As he lifted his hand to knock, I opened the door with a smile. His surprised expression made me laugh, but not before I caught a glimpse of his get-up.

  “What the heck are you wearing?” I asked, eyeing him up and down.

  He raised his arms out to the side and looked down conciliatorily. “What? You don’t think this is a nice outfit?”

  I held my hand to my mouth to keep from blurting out something mean.

  He stuck his tongue out at me and pushed past me. “Whatever.”

  I watched him walk up the stairs to the living room and followed behind him – our house is a split level ranch and the living room, dining room, kitchen and two bedrooms were upstairs. My dad’s office and a family room were downstairs, but rarely used.

  I had to admit, even to myself, that he looked quite handsome.