The Boy From Hot Ice

My dad had gone back to his regular schedule the next day, and I went back to not seeing him after school, sometimes for days at a time. But he had always hired a nutritionist to deliver our meals to us, so he was sure I was cared for. After school, all I wanted to do was call Jeremy.
What the hell?
Where was the phone?
I knew my dad didn't want me calling Jeremy for the next few days, but he didn't have to be so extreme about it! What was his problem?
Infuriated, I searched the entire house, looked in every hiding place the depression-era house had, and tried getting into my dad's room, but it was locked. He left a note saying that if there was an emergency, I could go to the neighbors. That didn't seem very responsible.
I waited up as long as I could for my dad to come home, but I fell asleep by around 2 AM. By the time I woke up the next morning, he was already gone. I didn't know when he ever had time to sleep. I just assumed he was a vampire or something at this point. Especially since he seemed to have no soul.
I've actually always liked school, but today I loved it. I needed human contact of some sort after the frustrating afternoon and evening before. I think it showed when I was desperate enough to start up a conversation with Amanda.
I didn't have a problem with her or anything, it's just that she was so happy all the time, and I kind of liked being sad and alone. It became me, I think. But I was still new, and she was always so nice - painfully nice - and talking to her seemed like a good idea for one reason or another.
"Is your last name Grayson" I asked her.
"It sure is!" she smiled. "Why do you ask?"
"My dad knows your dad," I told her. "I guess they work together sort of, or your dad contributes to my dad's charity or something or other."
"Who's your dad?"
"Ralph Pachiatorri," I told her.
"Oh my stars, yes!" she beamed. "Your dad's an absolute angel!"
"Yeah, well I'm not so sure about that."
"What do you mean?"
I explained to her about the hidden phone, and she smiled strangely. "Come with me," she smiled with a wink as she grabbed my hand and led me down the hall. We stopped in front of the counselor's office. "Just play along," she whispered to me while she knocked.
"Amanda?" the counselor said as she answered. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes, thank you Mrs. Knowles," she whimpered. "I was just wondering if I could call my dad? I'm having one of those days."
"Of course, sweetheart," she said, making way for us to enter.
"This is my best friend in the whole world, Liz Pachiatorri. I really need her with me right now if that's okay."
"Of course, sure. Oh, bless your soul, dear," the counselor's wrinkled forehead and sorrowed eyes gave hints of her concern, and I wondered at Amanda for taking advantage like that. But damn, Amanda was sure putting on a good show!
We had stepped inside the cramped office, and she wiped away the tears, smiling brighter than she had all day. "You're welcome!"
"That doesn't seem very nice, taking advantage of your... situation like that." I didn't want to say, "Your mother's death," but I wanted her to know what I meant.
"Oh, it's okay. Mrs. Knowles keeps telling me junk like, my mom's running with angels and playing with our old dog, Jellybean," she said, shaking her head, but still managing to smile a bit. "I can't stand her. She deserves to get tricked every once in a while so she knows her place."
I was surprised; such a sweet girl as she was, that she would lie about anything, much less something about her grief, and to her counselor no less, but I put that aside. There was a phone in front of me now, and Amanda was telling me to use it.
"He's not gonna be home," I told her. "He's in school."
"Just leave a message for him," she encouraged me. "Let him know what's going on. Tell him you'll call again as soon as you're allowed to."
She gave good advice and was offering me an opportunity, but I felt uncomfortable leaving a message like that. But I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, and I dialed his number as quickly as I could.
I left a message simply saying that I wouldn't be around. I didn't want to tell the embarrassing truth about my controlling father, and it didn't really matter what the truth was anyway. Point was, I'd call him again as soon as I possibly could. I didn't want to say "I love you" in case his mom heard, and so I just said I'd talk again soon, and I hung up. As soon as I did, I sat in the chair and cried. I couldn't seem to control myself.
"I'm sorry about the whole boyfriend situation," Amanda told me with an arm around my shoulders.
"I'll be okay," I told her, though I wasn't exactly sure. "I just miss him, that's all."
"Well, at least there's the possibility you'll see him again," she said, for the first time, not a shred of a smile or smirk on her face. "And at least you get to talk to him, even if it's not every day."
Her eyes seemed to stare at something in the distance, though there was obviously nothing there to be stared at. She had a loneliness in her that showed more than ever now, and I could see why she spoke now as she did.
"When did it happen?" I asked.
"A little over a year ago," she answered. "It was a car crash. Drunk driver hit the side of her car and killed her and the two women with her."
"I'm sorry," I said. I'd never really talked to anyone about death, since it hadn't ever happened to anyone I was close with.
"I guess if I had to die young, I'd want to die with my friends," she said, smiling again. How, I don't even know.
"You okay?" I asked. I really wasn't sure what to say, and of course she wasn't okay, but what could I say?
"I'll be alright," she said. "Just have to take it a day at a time, grieve slowly, don't rush the process, deal with it, don't ignore it..."
As her words ended, I felt for her. Not just as a fellow student, but also as a friend. I could see her dwelling on the subject, and even though she said dealing with it was part of the healing process, I couldn't talk about it anymore.
"Are you still holding tryouts today?" I asked, mostly just to change the subject.
"We sure are!" she lit up as if we hadn't just been talking about her mother's death just moments before. "You gonna come by?"
I hadn't really intended to, but I remembered I'd promised, and I always keep my promises. "Yeah, that's why I asked!" I lied.
"Awesome! Oh, but you can't try out in those jeans," she said, looking me over. "I can lend you a uniform for the day if you want. I'll go get it now so you can use it while you're warming up!"
The idea of wearing a miniskirt and sleeveless top appealed even less to me than the whole idea of trying out did. But I knew I had to accept her offer. I might as well get the embarrassment over with.
We dried our eyes and walked out of the office. I actually found myself kind of liking Amanda. She had been through so much over the past year, but still she walked around with a smile on her face. I could barely keep it together when I broke a nail. She was so strong and sweet to me, a perfect stranger who'd really never shown her any greater kindness than lending her a pencil. And back in Cali, a girl as pretty as Amanda would have been aware of her beauty, and would have used it as a reason to alienate herself from girls like me, more average-looking and less popular. She was finally a breath of fresh air in this city I had convinced myself I would always hate, as if it were the city's fault that I was now 800 miles away from my guy.
She handed me the extra uniform before we headed to lunch, and the red and white was much more appealing a color combination than I had imagined.
After our last class, she told me to go change and warm up, and she said I could just stop by the gymnasium whenever I was ready. I traveled to the locker room to change, and none of the other girls stared or made fun of me. None of them called me "freak" or dyke." None of them did anything but casually acknowledge my presence. I didn't have to duck into a stall to change. I felt comfortable and somewhat secure. Here, there was no Charlotte or Allison or Jenny. Here, everyone seemed to mind their own business.
Sure, there were mean girls and bullies here, but they weren't revered and looked up to like they were back home. They were feared, but I was too big to have to worry about them. I think they probably feared me a little, actually.
I didn't really know how to warm up for cheerleading, so I did some stretches like I did for basketball. I jumped up and down a few times, stretched my arms, twisted my torso. And as I stretched, a girl I had seen in Home Ec. came close to me and showed me some practices I could do for the tryout.
It was so much like dancing in a lot of ways. There was a lot of timing, precise movements, strength, and coordination. I had underestimated how hard it was. Then there were the vocal exercises that I hadn't really considered before she mentioned it to me. Then she told me I would need to come up with an original cheer. It wasn't required, but it would make my chances of making the squad a lot better.
At this point, I actually kind of wanted to make it. The more I witnessed the camaraderie these girls had, the more I wanted to be a part of it. I had never been on any team that had ever actually acted like a team.
I had the moves down fairly quickly. The more complicated things, like pyramids and falling and all that, were things I could learn later on. But now I needed to come up with an original cheer. This wouldn't be easy.
I watched as the clock warned me of how little time I had left to make good on my promise. With only five minutes left, I didn't have a decent cheer. Or any kind of cheer at all, for that matter. But I walked in anyway, figuring I would do the best with my moves, and hopefully that would be enough.
Amanda sat at the table with the cheer coach, a young woman who I thought at first might have been a fellow student, except she wore a wedding ring. And on the other side of Amanda was a much older woman who, I found out later, was brought in from another school as an impartial judge.
"Have you prepared a cheer?" The coach asked.
"I haven't, sorry," I told her nervously.
"Ok." She wrote on a piece of paper and then looked back up at me. "Show us what you've got."
I had expected them to play music or something, but there I stood in silence, not sure what to do. "You know what?" I said after almost 30 seconds of silence. "I actually do have a cheer I can do for you."
The coach's eyebrows shifted up, either impressed or annoyed, but Amanda leaned forward with a smile. "Yeah ya do!" she said.
I placed my feet shoulder-width apart and clasped my hands.

"I say 'Bobcats,' you say 'Fight,'
BOBCATS (FIGHT)
BOBCATS (FIGHT)
I say 'win,' you say 'tonight,'
WIN (TONIGHT)
WIN (TONIGHT)
Go Bobcats, go fight win
Win it, Bobcats, win tonight
Cheer one, cheer all
Cheer one, cheer all
Bobcats in the house, y'all!"

It was terrible, largely unoriginal, but it was something. And at least my moves were right on.
"Thank you, that'll be all," the coach said, sporting her best poker face.
I looked over at Amanda, hoping she could give me a clue about how I did, but she had the same smile on that she always had. There was no telling with her.
I exited through the heavy metal doors, the sound of it snapping behind me making me jump and let out a little peep. Out of instinct I looked behind me toward the noise, and when I turned my head back forward, just feet in front of my walked a boy in my direction.
He was tall, actually a couple inches taller than me. He had dark brown hair and hazel eyes, and his flawless skin sported the cutest little brown freckles. As he saw me, he smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of my existence.
"Is Amanda in there?" he asked.
"Yeah," I answered. "You her boyfriend?"
"Ew, gross!" he said as he made a disgusted face that, although contorted his mouth, made him irresistibly cute in that moment. "No! She's my sister."
"Oh!" I answered, embarrassed, and I could feel my skin warming and reddening, showing off my humiliation. "Sorry!"
He chuckled a little and shrugged. "It's ok. You're new."
"Yeah, I am," I smiled at him. "You actually knew that, huh?"
"Well, I'm a senior, so I pretty much know who's who by now. What's your name?"
"Liz. Pachiatorri."
"Ok. Oh! Ok! Yeah, you're Amanda's new buddy, right?"
"I guess so," I said.
"Wow, you're like, the prettiest friend she's ever had," he flirted. "Oh, and I'm Steve, by the way."
I shook his large, strong hand. It felt good to feel a guy's touch again, even if it was just a handshake. "Nice to meet you, Steve."
"Well, I've gotta go find Amanda," he said. "So you're on the squad with her, huh? I didn't know they picked the rest of the team yet."
"Oh, I'm not," I told him, embarrassed again. "I just borrowed the uni so I could try out."
"Well, I hope you make it," he smiled devilishly. "It's a good look on you."
"Well thanks," I grinned. And then immediately I was hit with the most painful feeling of guilt. "I should probably tell you I have a boyfriend, though."
He cringed. "Oh, I really wish you hadn't told me that," he smiled. His was as wide and as beautiful as his sister's. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to go out this weekend."
"You move fast, don't you?" I asked, surprised that he was asking me out just minutes after meeting me.
"Well, I figure you're one of those girls, you gotta move fast before someone gets to you first. And apparently, I was right."
Honestly, it was hard to resist his charm and good looks. But he could be a smooth talker, a phony, another one of those guys who'll just say anything to get laid.
"I really should go," I told him. "I'll see you around."
"I certainly hope so," he said as I left.

When I got home, I was more eager than ever to talk to Jeremy. I missed him. Guys like Steve, the jocks with the big muscles and the perfect hair, were a dime a dozen. But guys like Jeremy - guys who listen and care about what you're saying, guys who choose you when you're unchoosable, guys who put your needs first - that's one in a million. And I had that in Jeremy. To let that go would be a huge mistake.
Of course, my father and the phones were gone, and I sulked up to my room, grabbing a copy of Tiger Beat that had arrived for me on my way. And when I walked into my room, there on my nightstand was a package. I was sure it was the one Jeremy had sent, so I rushed over immediately to open it. Instead, it was from my dad. Disappointed but still curious, I opened it. There in the box was a brand new princess phone, pink, with my initials written in gold lettering along the top. A note beside it read:
To my princess,
Trust is earned. Use this wisely.
I love you,
Dad
I didn't know where this sudden act of kindness came from, but I hooked the phone up immediately and of course, Jeremy was my first call.
I told him everything about my day, except Steve of course. I told him I was trying out for cheerleading and that I had made a friend. And I joked that I would never let him meet her because she was so much prettier than me.
"You know you have nothing to worry about, Babe," he told me.
I twisted the phone cord like I was Gidget or something, incorporating such a childish act into my real life. I had missed his voice so much, it was killing me. "I really can't wait to see you again," I said.
"You'll see me soon," he told me mysteriously.
"Are you coming to visit?"
"Maybe I am, and maybe I'm not," he teased.
"Ugh, I'm gonna kill you!" I laughed.
"Did you get my package yet?" he asked.
"No. But the mail service here is a joke. It takes forever. I mailed a letter to my mom when I got here and she still hasn't gotten it. By the time it gets to the hotel in London, she'll have moved on to Germany already."
He didn't answer, and he always had something to say.
"You still there?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said quite quickly.
"What's going on?"
"I miss you," he whispered.
"I miss you, too."
"So tell me about the cheerleading outfit," he said, again in a whisper. "What did it look like?"
"It was short, you know, like a standard cheer skirt. A miniskirt with the pleats. And it was a sleeveless top. It was red and white which I actually was pleasantly surprised about, because the school colors used to be blue and I don't look as good in blue as I do in red."
"What are you wearing now?" He asked.
"I'm back in my jeans," I answered.
"You should take them off," he said.
"What? Why?"
I heard him sigh before he spoke again. "You know what I'm doing, don't you?" he asked.
"No, what?"
"I'm thinking about you... and I'm touching myself..."
"Oh!" I almost shouted at the exciting thought. "Oh god, I had no idea. Sorry!"
"You should touch yourself, too," he told me.
Jeremy introduced me to something new that day, and that was self-pleasure. He walked me through it, as if he knew what he was doing. Where he was vague on the subject, I improvised. And when it was over, I laid back, satisfied, and kissed the mouthpiece of the phone. "I miss you touching me like that," I told him.
"I miss it, too," he said. But it won't be long..."
"What won't be long?"
"I should go," he said.
"Wait, come on! Tell me what you mean!"
He remained silent for a moment. "Oh, you'll see," he whispered.