Sixty Nine

April 5: Monday

She can't breathe anymore.

The house is crowded with so much stress and tension that Parker Kendall lies in bed every night, trying to fall asleep, so she won't have to hear her parents' voices. They aren't shouting or anything like that, but the anger in their hissed whispers is lethal. If it's not about the mortgage or other bills, it's about her grandmother who's taken up permanent residence in the guest bedroom. Sometimes she thinks her parents are just finding an excuse to fight, so they should up and divorce already, but if they do, what's going to happen to her and Georgette?

Her stomach hurts all the time. It never happened before, but now she can barely rest without having to rub her abdomen first. Even the skin feels slightly hot to the touch, almost as if it's somewhat inflamed. It's the anxiety burning her up, she just knows it. One day they'll only find a scorched spot in her bed, but no body.

She has to talk to someone, but that's the problem. No one will really take her seriously because they all think teenagers are moody little shits. Her parents don't believe in therapists because they're overqualified quacks, so that option's out. If she talks to the family pastor, he'll probably tattle to her parents and ask if he can pray for her.

It's going to have to be Lydia.

The notion makes Parker sigh. There was once upon a time when she'd have confided in Lydia without having to think about it, but now Lydia has her lips permanently glued to her new boyfriend's ass. It’s not fair; it's not! Parker has been there for her ten years through thick and thin. Now she gets tossed out of the window for a skinny guy with Dumbo-sized ears and a slight gap between his front teeth?

So she picks up her cell phone and punches in Lydia's phone number. She used to have Lydia on speed dial, but thanks to him, things have changed.

"Come on, come on," Parker whispers. She can't speak any louder because her grandmother has this nasty habit of prowling the hallways late at night - probably trying to catch Parker doing something forbidden. "Pick up!"

She's nearly in tears when Lydia doesn't pick up after the first few rings. Figures. The other girl's her best friend... or at least she used to be. Now Lydia only acknowledges Parker when her boyfriend is absent, and Parker is not a fucking substitute. She's a person in her own right, goddamn it.

"Hello?"

The masculine voice on the other end makes her blink. "Is Lydia there? Can I speak to her?" she says cautiously. She doesn't recognize the speaker, and that's odd because she knows what Lydia's boyfriend sounds like. Wait, Lydia dumped her prince with Dumbo-sized ears? Oh dear God, yes, please.

"I don't know any Lydia. Who is this?"

The snap to his last few words has Parker bristling. "Well, this is her phone number, so unless you've kidnapped her and thrown her body in the river..."

"Funny. I only keep the bodies in my garden shed." Now he sounds as annoyed as she feels, and a mean part of her revels in it. At least she's ruining someone else’s night. Gotta spread the misery and all of that. "They make really good fertilizer when I hack them up with a chainsaw. Who the hell are you?"

She's not about to tell him her real name. He probably has Caller ID, so he has her number already, and that's more than enough. "Lydia's best friend," she snipes back. There are way too many psychopaths out there. Throw in the Internet and the possibilities are too frightening. "First, you tell me why you have her phone."

"Sweetheart, you're a nutcase."

"I'm not your sweetheart," she snaps, "so don't call me that."

Now she can hear the smile in his voice. "So you admit you're a nutcase?"

It's kind of embarrassing how she almost laughs aloud, but thank God, she catches herself just in time. The cocky bastard's now taunting her, and Parker Kendall doesn't like being teased. There's always the chance she's the one being laughed at.

"Look," she says, "I'm Lydia's best friend. Are you really sure she isn't there?"

She doesn't know him, not really, but she knows the silence on the other end means he's rolling his eyes. "Yes, my darling nutcase," he says, drawling to the point that it's just on this side of insulting. "Your precious Lydia isn't here. Are you sure you called the right number?"

"Of course!"

The phone number he recites aloud has her leaning away from her cell and studying it. What did she just punch in - oh fucking hell! Lydia's last digit is a 4, and this guy's last digit is a 5. Parker's cheeks flame in sudden and vivid embarrassment. This mistake is her doing, and somehow that's just worse.

“Goddamn it!" she snarls.

She hangs up, but not before she hears him laugh.

April 10: Saturday

The old theatre is showing some months-old movies. The dark green carpet is a little worn and the posters dingy, but the tickets and concession prices are cheap. On a rainy Saturday, there's nothing better than paying for two or three movies and settling down with a large tub of popcorn with extra butter. All of that for twelve dollars, drinks included.

Parker digs in her raincoat for her cell phone. The owner finally put in some benches, so that's usually where couples make out, but now Parker has the whole row to herself. It's a good feeling... or at least it's supposed to be. She checks her cell, but she knows it's fifteen minutes past the time Lydia promised to turn up at.

Where are you, Lyddie?

She wipes her wet palms over the knee of her jeans. She'd grabbed the closest parking spot, but despite the countless paper towels she'd used to dry off in the theater restroom, her hair's a ragged mess. Water drops trickle down her neck. She's fixed her mascara and lip gloss, but they can't hide the fact that she's getting pissed off. Lydia herself had suggested this outing, but...

"Get your ass over here," she snaps at her phone. "The movie's about to start, and I already bought your ticket."

"You're a real charmer, aren't you?"

Every muscle in her body freezes. "You," she whispers. Oh God. Not this again! She closes her eyes in mortification. "Go away."

His voice is just as amused as she remembers. "First, you want me to come over, but now you want me to leave?"

"Okay!" she blurts out. By now her face's probably on fire because she can feel the heat in her cheeks. She doesn't have to touch her cheek to know she's blushing like a tomato. "I didn't mean to call you! It's my fault, and I'm sorry, and now I'm going to find the darkest and deepest hole I can crawl into. Goodbye."

"Relax, baby. It's not the end of the world."

Growling under her breath, she ends the conversation. It feels good cutting him off just like that. Too bad she can't do that to anyone else in her life. If she could, she'd make a collage of her life and use a pair of scissors to cut up the assorted problems. Family, school, low self-esteem... oh yes, they'd all go.

She snatches up her phone when it chirps. "Hello?"

"That wasn't nice," he chides.

The sound she makes is nothing short of frustrated. "I said I was sorry! What do you want?"

"I'm bored, so you might as well entertain me. So, tell me who you were waiting for - that girl Lydia?"

Parker scowls in the sudden darkness. The lights have dimmed, so she's all alone in the auditorium. It's almost half an hour now, so Lydia won't show up. She's probably with her Dumbo, all lost in the wonder of exploring that newfound experience called "sex". And if Parker's being honest with herself, she's a bit jealous Lydia's having sex first. How does it feel like? Is it better than what books and movies say? Or maybe it just boils down to the fact that Lydia is so goddamn happy without Parker.

"Come on, talk to me," the guy prods on the other end.

She snorts. "You're kind of weird, you know. Why do you want to talk to a person who you don't even know?"

Despite herself, Parker is relaxing. She can say anything to this guy without having to look at him in the face. Even better, she's alone in the auditorium, so no one can shush her for talking too loudly. She kicks off her wet sandals, plants her bare feet on the back of the next row. Might as well make herself comfortable.

"Broke my leg, so now I have this huge-ass cast." He doesn’t exactly snort, but she can pick up on the note of wry disgust in his voice. "My brother crashed into me when we were playing football. Les is so uncoordinated that you should just slap up a warning sign on him because he’s that dangerous."

Parker giggles before she thinks better of it. "Sorry about that."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too, baby. Now I can't even go out, thanks to this rain."

"Oh, it's raining wherever you are?"

As soon as she realizes what she's just asked, she nibbles on her lower lip. She hasn't really thought about it, but his area code is the same as hers, so of course he lives somewhere close. It's a freak coincidence his phone number is so similar to Lydia's, but nevertheless, he should be in the same town or thereabouts.

She freezes as the ramifications set in. Do I know him?

He doesn't sound that old, so he can't be her father's age. That's a good thought, but if he's in his thirties... God, what if he's a criminal? Now that she knows he's in the same town, he could easily find her and strangle her -

"Oh yeah," he says, sounding a little surprised. "We're both from Middleton, aren't we? I go to Middleton High."

Phew.

"Me too," she admits. She presses a hand to her burning abdomen, so she won't get an ulcer. He'd better not be lying about this. "Are you... are you a senior?"

"Yeah, I'm graduating."

She nods before she realizes he can't see her. In a few weeks, she'll collect her diploma and then she can kiss high school goodbye. She'll never, ever come back, not even for reunions. The other kids will be throwing their arms around each other and promising to keep in touch, but oh no, that emotional bullshit won't fly with Parker Kendall. People just let you down because that's what they do best.

"All right," he says abruptly. "Moment of truth. Tell me who you are."

It's an event she should have foreseen, but she's blindsided anyway. Once they know each other's name, they'll lose that anonymity. She'll have to see him at school and remember what she said to him. What's worse, he'll remember.

"Yo, Phone Girl. Don't go quiet on me."

She stares at the gigantic screen while he speaks into her ear. The previews have ended, so she really should pay attention to the movie. She paid for the ticket, didn't she? So she should get her money's worth and she should eat her popcorn -

Why are you so scared, Parker?

He sighs. "Okay. I'll go first. I'm Ashley Cavencourt."

That breaks through her defenses. "What?" she blurts out. She has one of the school's biggest slacker idiots on the other end? Then again, she doesn't know why she’s surprised. Of course Fate would do this to her. "Oh, you have to be kidding me."

Now he laughs. "You don't sound too thrilled."

Her lip curls into a sneer. Now she's even more thankful she didn't reveal her identity. Who doesn't know about the Cavencourt triplets: Ashley, Leslie, and Andrea? The three of them are blessed with astounding good looks, just as they are cursed with girls' names. And unfortunately for the rest of the universe, they all share one single brain cell.

"Why should I be? You made a copy of Mrs. Austin's answer key and passed it around! That skewed the grading curve."

"Damn straight. The old hatchet deserved it."

Parker's pretty sure that her eyes will never recover from rolling so hard. "You're disgusting," she says. "I don't even know why I'm talking to you."

"That's an easy one."

"Oh yeah?"

"My charm sucked you right in."

"Screw you."

He clicks his tongue. "My, my. Already?" There's a rustling sound as if he's moving around. "My cast's a bit of a problem, but I think we can find a way."

Her face flames instantly. Why is everyone so preoccupied with sex anyway? Lydia's having it, and she can't stop gushing about what Dumbo's doing in bed. As if he could ever get it up. Parker's mouth puckers up at the thought. Okay, now she's just grossing herself out.

She sits up in her seat when someone enters the auditorium. There's enough light from the theater screen, so she knows it's Lydia.

"Hey!" she calls out. "You made it!"

Her best friend raises a hand. "Yeah!" she shouts back. She shakes her hair free and charges up the stairs a few steps at a time. "Got a flat tire, can you believe it? I had to wait and wait until someone stopped by in the godawful rain."

As bad as that is, it cheers Parker up. Lydia's late, yes, but at least she didn't mean to stand her up on purpose. Even better, she didn't bring Dumbo along.

Parker's about to snap her cell shut before she remembers Ashley's still there. "I gotta go," she says to him. "My friend got here."

"Yeah, I heard," he says wryly. "Saved by the best friend, huh?"

"You'll live. Goodbye."

"Hey. It's true what I said, you know."

"What is?"

"You're a real charmer, sweetheart."

And because she’s flustered, she just hangs up.

April 11: Sunday

Her chirping phone rouses her from an uneasy slumber. She's rolling over in bed and reaching for the cell before she can pop her eyes open. "Hello?" she mumbles. Between the slits of her eyes, she can glimpse the filtered red light from her alarm clock. "Whassit?"

"Hey there, baby. Did I wake you up?"

Her eyelids weigh two tons each, but even in her exhaustion, she hears the warm amusement in his voice. At least she thinks it's Ashley Cavencourt, but that's just ridiculous. They've never exchanged a word at school, so why would he - oh hell. They have talked, though, and she scrubs at her face. It has to be past two o'clock in the morning. That bastard.

"What the hell do you want?" she grumbles.

"I can't sleep."

For a moment she can't speak because she's trying not to swear aloud. "And this earthshaking announcement is what you wanted to share with me?" she manages.

"Mm-hmm. Talk to me, Phone Girl."

"Fuck you."

He just laughs. "Yeah, I wish."

She burrows deeper under her blankets. "You're a sadistic bastard, aren't you? Spawn of Satan and all of that."

"Love you too, baby."

"Okay! What is it with you and your pet names? Do you always go around calling a girl sweetheart and baby?"

She can hear the smile in his voice. "You won't tell me your name, so you're not really leaving me with many choices here. I mean, you don't sound like a Gertrude or a Matilda..." There's a thoughtful pause. "You don't sound like a Misty or a Tawny either-"

"Parker Kendall," she blurts out.

Her eyes squeeze shut. It's not something she meant to tell him, but maybe it's better this way. They live in the same town and they go to the same school. Chances are good that he'd have found out one way or another.

"I know."

Now her eyes open. "You do?"

"You talked about Mrs. Austin's class," he reminds her. "And you mentioned that girl Lydia. From there, it wasn't hard to narrow it down. Why didn't you tell me before?"

Her sigh is almost too loud in the privacy of her bedroom. "I don't know," she admits. She flings an arm across her eyes. "At first I was too embarrassed to tell you. I made an idiot of myself calling you... and that's just not something easy to forget. I don't like making mistakes."

"Everyone makes them. Shit happens."

She frowns in the darkness. He doesn't sound patronizing - far from it, actually - but regardless, she doesn't like it. "I know that," she says. "I just don't want to, that's all."

"So what's the other reason?"

"Excuse me?"

"For not telling me who you were."

"Well..." She hesitates. "We've never really crossed paths in school. We don't even talk. Honestly, I'm surprised you know my name."

"Not true. The 'not talking' part, I mean. A few weeks ago, you told me to shush when I was making paper airplanes in the school library."

There's that smile in his voice again. It's funny how just hearing it warms her from head to toes. Lately, there seems to be a shortage of smiles in the Kendall household, so it's nice. Come to think of it, it's pretty ironic because that's one of the reasons she always avoids him at school. He's one of those people who always grins, and Parker doesn't like or trust them because life isn't that happy.

Her voice is wry. "Yeah, well, you aren't supposed to make paper airplanes."

"You should do it sometime with me. It'll do you a world of good."

"What do you mean?"

"For someone that gorgeous, you frown too much."

Her lips part in surprise. Gorgeous? Now that's one adjective people never have used to describe her. Smart? Yes. Efficient? Yes. Responsible? Yes. All good adjectives, of course, but if she's honest with herself, it stings a bit that they never say she's pretty or sweet like her sister Georgette. What is she, the ugly duckling? But if she tells him that, she'll look like a loser who's never been out on a date.

... And that's true.

As humiliating as it is, Parker Kendall has reached the grand age of seventeen and three quarters with virginal lips and virginity still intact. She doesn't mind so much not having sex because she has to do it with Mr. Right, but come on, what about a lousy kiss? Why is it so easy for other girls to make out in the school hallways with their boyfriends? It's a disgusting display, yes, but at least these girls are wanted by somebody.

Ashley Cavencourt doesn't have that problem. He's not a girl, of course, but he's definitely one of those people who emanate "desirable." Parker's never thought he was her type, but yeah, he's easy on the eyes. Girls trip over themselves if he so much glances their way. They giggle behind their hands if he throws them a lazy wink. And when you have his brothers Leslie and Andrea flanking him? Might as well call it a day.

"Yo, Phone Girl."

"Gorgeous?" she manages. "I think you have a vision problem."

"Nope. I meant what I said."

She actually holds the cell away, so she can study it. He's joking, of course, because no one thinks she's pretty, but just for a traitorous moment, her heart flutters. Is this how other girls feel when they're complimented? She'd like to think so.

You are pathetic, Parker Kendall, her inner voice says sternly, bursting the pleasant bubble she's built around herself. He's just saying it to be nice.

"I gotta go," she says.

Now he sounds a little bewildered. "Hey. What did I do?"

She's close to tears for some reason. Wherever this emotion has come up from, she doesn't know, but she knows if she keeps talking to him, she'll cry. And that she just can't have. Parker Kendall does not blubber like an idiot.

"I gotta go," she repeats.

She cuts him off before he can protest again. In a way it's kind of sweet that he didn't recoil in horror when he realized who she was, and that he complimented her, but really, there's no good reason why he would want to talk to her. Anyway, if they do keep talking, it'll be pretty damn awkward on Monday. How is she supposed to look at him in the face now?

It's just better that she nips it in the bud.

Really.

April 11: Sunday (continued)

His voice is clear when he answers. From the sound of it, he hasn't gone to bed even though it's nearly five o'clock in the morning. Another time, another place, Parker would have sneered, but right now she's just shaking uncontrollably.

"Back for another round so soon?" he teases.

She forces the words past her lips, so that they're distinct. "I want you to listen," she says slowly and carefully. "I don't want you to say anything. One more word and I'll just hang up." She pauses and waits, hoping that he'll do exactly that, but for once he's silent.

"Okay. My parents fight constantly, and I'm just sick of it. I can't stand being in the same room with them anymore. We used to have family pizza night. Movie night too. You know, that sappy family bullshit you're supposed to do. Well, we did all of that. But now..."

Her eyes narrow in the darkness, so she won't cry again, but apparently she still has some tears left. "Um. My sister Georgette is fourteen. She's three years younger than me, and... I'm... I'm jealous of her." She has to swallow because, God, this is so pathetic. "Georgette's always invited to birthday parties and outings. She hangs out at the mall with her friends almost everyday, but I have to come straight home and do my homework and make dinner for the family. I couldn't get multiple ear piercings because my mom said I'd look like a teenage dropout, but Georgy has three piercings in each ear."

Even now the injustice still hurts. Parker is the responsible one, and everyone knows it. So when she screws up, she gets it worse because she's upset their expectations. Her sister, on the other hand, slides by with a shrug. "Oh, that's just Georgette," they'll say with a laugh.

"She's the pretty one and I'm not," Parker blurts out. The words cut deep, but she has to say them anyway. She's weeping now, but she doesn't care if he makes fun of her. "I've never been asked out on a date. I tell myself I don't care, but it's just a lie. No one wants to be with me. Lyddie's with her boyfriend all the time. She once said I was too serious for my own good, and I know she's right, but I don't know how to change. How am I supposed to be different anyway? There's no fucking master plan."

Her breathing hitches. "I think that's what scares me the most. College starts this fall, and I'm scared. I don't know if I'll make any friends. I don't know if I'll do well in classes. I don't know if my parents will fall apart when I'm gone. Or maybe... they'll be fine and they won't even miss me. I don't think anyone will."

She wipes her nose with a tissue. Oh, she just knows she's a mess. He's probably not even there anyway. He's either snoring or rolling his eyes.

"I don't know you," she says at last. "I guess that's why I can tell you all of this. I don't care if you tell anybody because I don't care anymore. I'll collect my diploma and I'll leave so fast that no one will ever notice I'm gone."

"I will," he says unexpectedly.

"What?"

"I'll notice."

She scoffs. "Whatever. I don't believe-"

"Say my name."

"What?"

"Ashley. Say it."

Parker rubs at her eyes. "Okay. Ashley. Now what? Do I click my heels three times?"

He just laughs. She's not sure if she's intrigued or irritated by the way he shrugs off her sarcasm, but either way, he's a novelty. "Or you could come meet me at IHOP in half an hour," he replies. "The one near the mall. It's open twenty-four hours, so it's not a problem. I'll get my brothers to drop me off."

"What?"

"You heard me."

She sits upright in her bed. "Yes, I did, but you can't do that. You can't just invite someone you barely know-"

"Just throw your clothes on and come meet me. We'll eat some pancakes."

She's now stuttering. What the hell is this? He actually sounds serious, and maybe that's what scares her. He feels sorry for her, doesn't he? Oh God, why did she open her big, fat mouth in the first place? Now that her catharsis is done and over with, she's gnawing on her lower lip and clutching her blankets with wide eyes. What has she done?

"I... I... I can't," she stammers. "Why do you want to do this anyway? Be honest with me."

There's a long pause on the other end. "Because," he says thoughtfully, "this is the most interesting thing that's happened lately, and I want to see where this goes. Is that honest enough for you?"

"You don't know me."

"Liar. I think I know you more than anyone does right now."

The truth in that statement has her reeling back. He's right, isn't he? Not even her parents or Lydia know because they've been so busy with their own thing.

"Okay," she admits. "But I don't know you."

"Well, I'm here. Do you want to?"

It's so blatantly in-your-face that she's taken aback. Does she want to know him? She can't tell if he's flirting with her, just to be nice. She can't tell if he's stringing her along because she's a lonely girl. But then again, she's never heard about him being mean.

He picks up on her hesitation. "Come on," he says softly. "I don't bite."

She laughs because the whole thing is just too bizarre. Or maybe she just can't think when it's nearly six. "Fine, fine," she says. "Yes, I want to know you, Ashley Cavencourt. Yes, I'll meet you at IHOP. Happy now?"

"Not until you show up. I'll keep calling until you join me."

Shaking her head, she gets out of her bed because she's not going back to sleep anyway. Luckily, she's an early riser, so no one will question why she's up and awake. There are some perks associated with being responsible.

She's rummaging around for her jeans when he speaks again. He sounds quieter, reflective, even. "Did you ever wonder why I made the paper airplanes while you were there in the school library, Parker? I knew we were gonna graduate soon... and I wanted to hear your voice just for once. I don't know why."

Her mouth falls open. "I... I..."

Now he sounds pleased. "Good. You should think about that. And now it's my turn." With a laugh, he hangs up.

Her lips curve before she realizes she's smiling. Maybe it's just a joke, but she's dressed and heading out of the door in a few minutes. No one stops her, not even her parents or grandmother. It really has to be a dream because the sky is that bluish gray shade and the world is all quiet as her car creeps along at a respectable speed. She's not about to get a speeding ticket.

The IHOP is almost a glaring beacon in the dimness. Even from the parking lot, she can see the silhouette of someone inside. It looks vaguely familiar, and she draws a deep breath. Then she's walking inside the restaurant.

"Hi, Ashley," she says.