Marla had been right. Bringing food had been a stroke of genius. I hadn’t been too sure about coming all the way out here. Infringing on them. The idea of hiking through the woods to some secret lake had been both terrifying and thrilling at the same time.
She’d been insistent. Kept repeating how they didn’t own everything and couldn’t dictate what she did and where she went.
The walk here had been fun and not hard at all. I’d loved every step. The colors and play of light through the trees was fascinating. When we first got to the lake I’d been blown away, the blue was a color I’d never seen before. Layers of difference reflecting the sky while holding its own deep secrets.
Right here, I could stay here for days and paint something new every day. Then, I saw him come out of the lake.
There should be a rule. No guy should look that good. When he stood up out of the water to race against Tank, my heart had skipped several beats and couldn’t seem to settle down to a normal rhythm. The guy was a god. Chiseled muscles, wide shoulders, and a laughing grin that screamed how much fun he was having just being him. As if being Jason Turner was the best thing in the world.
He didn’t see us for a few seconds. For a moment, I was able to observe him in his natural element.
He moved like a jungle cat. Fast, sure-footed, and smooth. Water cascaded off him like he’d just stepped out of the shower. When he wiped that chunk of wet blond hair out of his eyes, I thought I’d melt right there and then.
For the first time in my life, I wanted to paint a portrait. I wanted to capture his essence. Graceful movement, quiet observation, and a smile that melted the world. Youth, promise, and potential. He is at the cusp of becoming a man I realized, but looking back on his childhood with love and a sad regret.
We settled down by the lakes edge. As Marla started handing out food, each of the guys regaled us with tails about what they had built. The adventures they had had.
Nick stood up and walked to the lake and returned with a six pack of beer. Really, is that what they were into? He caught my look of surprise.
“It’s only beer. It’s a hot day, and a man likes to have a beer on a hot day,” Nick said, as he pulled one from the plastic loop and gave the remainders to Jason. Nick popped the top and chugged half the can letting out a long sigh and licking his lips as he lowered the can.
I watched Jason take a can and pass it along. I didn’t think about the right and wrong of underage drinking. I thought, these guys really should put on shirts. It made it hard for a girl to think.
“You going to tell Mom and Dad?” Jason asked Marla.
She bit her lip and shook her head. Jason looked at me, as if waiting for my comment.
This is what you wanted, Amber, I reminded myself. To be around normal people my own age. To do things that didn’t revolve around my parents. I didn’t have any secrets from my parents I realized. Not one. That didn’t seem right. It was obviously time I started. I shook my head confirming that I would keep their secret.
First, Luke then Tank, each pulled a can free. Tank looked at the remaining two cans, then shrugged his shoulder and passed them to Marla. She froze, shooting Jason a look. He stared at her for a moment then said, “One.”
Marla smiled, then took the cans from Tank, and handed me the last one.
So, this is what they meant when they talked about peer pressure? I thought. Nobody said anything about me having to drink the beer. I honestly don’t think they would have thought less of me, but this was like a bonding moment. I was either one of them, or I wasn’t. My decision completely.
I opened the can and took a sip. I immediately spit it out to a sharp round of laughter. It tasted like warm moldy bread soaked in lake water. How could anyone ever like this?
“It grows on you,” Nick said with a smile, as he raised his can in a silent toast before taking another sip.
The afternoon crawled by, as we sat and talked, soaking up the sun and enjoying the fact that we didn’t have something else to do. Another demand, obligation, or expectation. It was one of those carefree days that I had dreamed about.
“So, tell me, how did Tank get his nickname? Unless, that’s your real name?” I asked.
The tips of his ears turned pink as he stared at his hands in his lap. Marla laughed.
“It’s my fault,” she said. Seeing my confusion, she continued, “The first day of first grade, Mom had spent the morning putting my hair into a long braid. I was wearing this cute red dress, black shoes. I felt so grown up. This was real school. The school my brother went to.”
Jason smiled at his sister, and I saw the love between them. I felt jealous. I would never know the specialness of having a sibling.
“It was recess, right after lunch,” Marla continued, “two of the third graders … “
“Jimmy Clark,” Jason said with a frown.
“And, Tom Cheavers,” Tank added, his forehead narrowed in a scowl.
“Well, they started teasing me. Pulling my braid, saying mean things. You know typical stuff. But, I didn’t know kids could be like that. I’d grown up on Lakeland Street where everyone was nice to Mrs. Turner’s kids. Or, they’d have to deal with her. I started crying and yelling for them to leave me alone. I remember being so scared and so ashamed that I was crying. This was my first day of school. What if they didn’t let me come again because I cried? What if they said I wasn’t old enough yet? So of course, I cried more.”
Her eyes got that faraway look as she thought back to the moment.
“They pushed me down. I remember looking up just in time to see Henry,” Marla indicated Tank who continued to study his hands. Marla continued, “That was his name then. He barreled into both boys with a flying tackle. He knocked both of them down and stood over them as if he would pulverize them if they thought about moving.”
“He ran all the way across the school yard before either Nick or I saw what was going on,” Jason said.
“Mr. Daurty came over and pulled Henry back,” she continued, “he grabbed him by the collar and said, ‘You can’t be plowing into people like that, you’re not a Tank.’”
Here she stopped, as she smiled at the big boy across the camp site from her.
“They took him to the principal’s office and his parents were called.”
“That was okay,” Tank said. “No one ever messed with any of us after that.”
“Especially, after we got to Jimmy and Tom on the way home,” Luke said with a laugh.
“So, after that, I started calling him Tank,” she said with a soft smile directed at him.
“I liked it. I never liked Henry. Even my mom calls me Tank.”
“Except when she’s mad at you,” Nick said with a laugh, “Then, it’s Henry Louis.”
The group laughed.
A sense of longing washed over me. These people had a history, a history I would never know and could never be a part of. They were totally and completely wrapped up in each other’s lives and had been from the very start.
In New York, you were lucky to know your neighbor and talk to them two or three times a year as you passed each other in the hall.
After several hours, Marla sighed and said we had to start back before it got dark. I could tell she wasn’t real happy about leaving, but there was no way my parents would let me camp out with a bunch of boys. They might be cool and free thinking, but not that much.
We gathered our stuff. I looked back at Jason for a moment. Our eyes locked and I had a brief vision of what it would be like to spend the night alone with him in the forest. Wrapped up in each other’s arms. My spine shivered with want and need.
Calm down girl, I told myself. You don’t know if he’s even interested. Sure, that look says he’s interested, but do you really know? My knowledge of boy’s looks was not very extensive. Do not get all mushy about some guy you just met, I continually reminded myself.
The walk back seemed different. Away from something instead of towards something new and exciting. We were quiet, Marla was lost in her own world. I was pretty sure it revolved around Tank.
I didn’t see the guys for a week. Tank and Jason were in football practice all day and too tired at the end of the evening to do anything but sleep. Luke was at his new job, and Nick was off doing whatever Nick did. Knowing him, it probably revolved around a girl or a party or both.
Marla had been roped into babysitting her two little brothers while her mom worked at the library. The street seemed forlorn and empty. There were other people about, but it wasn’t the same. They weren’t the people I wanted to hang out with. It made me smile, thinking that a few weeks ago I didn’t know anyone that I wanted to hang out with and now there were five people.
My art called to me, as it always does when I have a quiet moment. I got my sketch pad and tried several different scenes, but nothing worked. I wanted to draw Jason, I realized. My fingers ached to try and capture that chin, those eyes. But, I held back. No, not yet. I needed more, I wasn’t ready.
I had to turn down the invitation to the Thursday meal because my mom took me to Nordstrom’s in Seattle to go school clothes shopping. I told her I wanted to just go to the local mall, but she wouldn’t listen. Nothing new there. Mom wasn’t big on listening to other people’s opinions.
The first day of school arrived much quicker than I wanted. My stomach was in complete turmoil as I went through my new clothes for the fifty-eighth time before finally settling on an A-line skirt and a cute top to match. Keep it simple, Amber, it’s only high school.
Marla met me outside and walked with me to the bus stop. I noticed that her mom had won the argument as to which clothes she would wear. Wisely, I kept my mouth shut.
“Where’s your brother?” I asked before I could stop myself. It seems my ability to keep quiet was not completely fine-tuned. What would she think? Please do not think I’m interested or anything.
“He’s driving my dad’s truck. You’d think he could give his little sister a ride, but no! That’s reserved for his friends.” She frowned and shook her head. “We had a big fight about it last night.”
“I’m sorry,” I said with the appropriate amount of caring. Inside I was sending up a big thank you. At least I’d know someone on the bus. Maybe I should bug my father about getting my driving license. In New York, it hadn’t been an issue. I think it was going to be different here.
Thirty seconds after getting on the bus I knew I was going to demand that Dad help me get my license. No way was I doing this every day. It felt like I’d stepped into a long yellow coffin that smelled of leather, cheap perfume, and some unknown smell that reminded me of the subway on a hot summer’s day. Not the kind of place you wanted to spend a lot of time.
One thing the bus had going for it, it prepared a person for the chaos of school. I hadn’t expected the noise, smell, and churning movement. The hallway was crowded with kids yelling, pushing, and trying to go a dozen different places at the same time.
In the corner a couple were kissing, his hands rubbing places that shouldn’t be rubbed in public.
A teacher yelled, “Kimberly, Stanton, quit it and get to class,” then turned to separate two boys pushing each other.
The amorous couple broke apart, glanced at the teacher. Saw the teacher’s attention elsewhere and resumed. I wanted to watch and see how far things would go but the crowd pushed me along.
People kept zigging when I zagged. Were there rules? Why didn’t everyone going north use the left side and those going south the right? It would make so much more sense. Instead, it was like being in a school of insane fish, each with their own idea of the right way to do things.
I looked at Marla, determined to keep her in sight, until I made it to my locker. She was smiling, greeting friends while continuing to move, slipping and sliding through the crowd like a natural athlete. Her body seemed to move without conscious thought.
As I walked, I checked out what other people were wearing. It ranged from fussy librarian to street corner hooker with an occasional cheerleader uniform. I couldn’t believe how much make-up some of the girls were wearing. My outfit appeared to be in the middle, the nothing special look would fit in, I realized and sighed a quiet thank you.
When we got to my locker, Marla smiled back at me and said, “It’s worse at lunch.”
I swallowed hard and tried to hide the fear that was building up inside of me. How had I gotten to sixteen, almost seventeen-years-old without learning how to maneuver my way through a school hallway? It felt as if the walls and roof were about to fall in on me. I had to concentrate on my breathing and kept repeating to myself. ‘You can do this’ - ‘You can do this.'
“I’ve got to go, I’m on the other side of the school.” That was Marla, she’d spent time out of her first morning to make sure I was all right. Put off reconnecting with her friends, gone out of her way to be nice. I relaxed inside, a little at least. People were nice, I reminded myself. At their core they were nice. Keep telling yourself that, and eventually, you might believe it.
Smiling my thanks, I gave her a quick hug, then watched her disappear into the crowd. I’d never felt so alone.
Putting my supplies into my locker, I smiled to myself that I’d remembered my combination without a problem. The crowd had gotten smaller, almost manageable, and I realized most of them had gotten to their classes. A bell began to ring, and everyone seemed to dart to their final destination, leaving me alone in the hallway.
I was late. Great, what a way to get started. When I made it to my class, I halted for a moment, took a deep breath, and stepped in. Here goes, I said to myself.
The teacher stood at the head of the class with a binder open, taking attendance. He looked at me over the top of his glasses and said, “English Lit, Kennedy?”
I nodded yes, unable to answer verbally.
“And you are?” he asked.
“Amber Johnson,” I said weakly.
He perused his list then nodded. “Welcome Ms. Johnson, please take a seat.”
Two dozen people were looking at me like I was an alien from a distant planet. ‘Who’s the new girl?’ they seemed to be thinking. I scanned the room for an open desk, and my insides fell to the floor. In the far corner was Jason Turner in all his glory.
He was surrounded by half a dozen girls, each prettier than the next. I’d never seen so much blond hair and lip gloss. He smiled at me and nodded his head in acknowledgment.
Several of the girls immediately shot me death-ray stares. Who are you and how does the god Jason know of your existence? A particular, beautiful blond cheerleader seemed to be the leader of the death-ray squad. Her look could have melted iron at a dozen paces.
Luckily, an open chair just inside the door was available, as far from Jason and his gaggle of admirers as possible. Good, I was going to have enough distractions just being the new girl. The last thing I needed was being worried about what Jason Turner thought. Besides, he looked like he was going to be more than busy enough.
Mr. Kennedy put his attendance sheet away and looked out over the students. “We’re going to start the semester studying, ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’ by Erich Remarque.” Several people groaned. A girl in the back said something about people who write war books should be shot.
My frown caught the teacher’s attention. “Yes, Ms. Johnson, do you have a problem with our selection?
“No sir, I was just wondering. It’s a good book, I understand that, but why is a book written by a former German soldier, under a French pen name being taught in English Lit?”
A pin dropping would have made a clatter in the silence that fell around me. Twenty-four sets of eyes looked at me as if I’d just announced that I was an elephant from India here to learn circus moves. What? Was it bad to ask questions? Why were they looking at me like that?
“Because, Ms. Johnson, I want to,” Mr. Kennedy said with a small smirk.
Okay, it was official. I didn’t have any idea what I was doing here. The rules, expectations, and common courtesies had disappeared from my world. What had I gotten myself into?