Chapter Nine

I tried calling my father once before getting ready for Alan, but he didn't pick up. I wondered if they would both come back that night, or if Sharon would really fly all the way to California with nothing but what was in her purse, which was probably only a pair of scissors and a corkscrew. As I picked out my clothes for the evening, I tried to guess the horrible thing Dawn presumably had done. To the best of my knowledge she would never steal and or do hard drugs, but my current knowledge of Dawn consisted of next to nothing. The last time we talked she had complained about school and how unfair Jack and Carol were to her, while I hinted at what a bitch Sharon was. I wondered if maybe she was in trouble for splashing an old lady's fur coat with red paint for PETA or bashing in the windows of some senator's Hummer. That seemed like something straight up her alley.

I selected a pair of brown corduroy pants, a three quarter sleeve light pink button up shirt and a pair of flat penny loafer slingbacks. It was casual and simple and wouldn't give Alan the wrong idea. The last thing I wanted to do was to give him the wrong impression by wearing an outfit similar to the one I wore last night. I was applying some light makeup when I heard my phone ring. It was Claudia.

"Hi-hi," I chirped, holding the phone and trying to apply a coat of mascara at the same time.

"Okay, Jamie Newton," she joked, giggling. "What are you up to?"

"You might never believe this, but Alan Gray actually called me this afternoon and asked me to go to dinner with him!" My voice had taken on an unexpected girlish and giddy tone.

"Haha, I knew you would say yes!" she laughed triumphantly. "He's doing crew for the show and kept talking to me at rehearsal today about how much you must hate him now. So I gave him your number and told him to ask you out for dinner tonight. He was so sure you would say no. He even bet me twenty dollars on it." She snorted. "Guess I'm twenty dollars richer."

"Since when is Alan Gray scared to do anything?" I asked, a little hesitantly. I've never heard of anyone trying to hook up an ex-boyfriend with someone else. It seemed strange, even for Claudia. "That can't be the same boy who would prank us all the time or set off cherry bombs in the boy bathroom, or auctioned off Shawna Riverson's zit cream in the cafeteria."

"Oh my lord, I forgot about that whole zit cream thing." Claudia practically burst into hysterics. "That was so funny. But seriously, Alan's changed. Well, sort of." I heard her munching on something thoughtfully in the background. "You two would be cute together. Maybe you'd have some kind of calming influence on him."

"I am not dating Alan Gray," I replied tightly. "He'll always be a big goofball to me."

"Okay…," sang Claudia, hinting at something in her tone. "Well, if you're interested, there is going to be a small post party tonight at Caleb's. We're going to clean up the house and bring back all the empties and buy some more beer with it. You and Alan could come together if you want."

"No thanks," I said quickly, shooting down both her invitation and the idea of me and Alan being together. "There's a lot going on around here and I should probably go home right after dinner." I explained to her the whole situation with Dawn.

"Ooooo, I wonder what she did," pondered Claudia. I could practically see her eyes shining with thought. "Maybe she got busted for pot or something. She seems like she would be into an all natural drug that grows in the ground. Let me know what happens."

"Sure," I said. "I'll call you later tonight." We said goodbye and hung up, and I finished my hair and makeup. I tried calling my father again, but he still didn't pick up. Even if I had wanted to try ringing Sharon, she had left her cell phone on the kitchen table.

I went downstairs and fed Tigger, and I flipped through the channels waiting for Alan to pick me up. About ten minutes after he was supposed to come, I heard the doorbell ring. I hadn't even heard a car pull up. I answered the door and saw Alan standing there, wearing a pair of jeans and a plain red polo, his dark hair neatly combed. At least he looked nice. Usually he wore t-shirts that said things like "I'd hit that" with a picture of a piñata or "Soccer Moms are easy" or obnoxious things along those lines. He was also polite enough to ring the doorbell, instead of honking the horn for me outside.

"Good evening," he said, his tone dripping with exaggerated charm. "I'm sorry I was late, but I know how you ladies need time to get ready, so I figured it was okay."

"Thanks," I muttered, wincing at the word "ladies". I stepped outside onto the porch and locked the door after me. I turned around and saw Alan standing next to what looked like a red scooter, which was parked behind my father's car.

"That's what you picked me up in?" I gaped, staring at it. He hopped onto it and it started it using the pedal. He smiled at me.

"It's my moped," he grinned. "I don't have a car yet. It used to belong to my dad in the seventies and we restored it together this summer." He put on a blue helmet. There was a red one dangling from the handlebars. "Here, I brought you an extra one." He tossed it to me. I fumbled and dropped it on the ground, partly because I couldn't catch a beach ball to save my life, and partly because I was still aghast at the sight of his moped.

"Am I supposed to ride on the back of that?" I asked in complete disbelief.

"That's the general idea," he said, grinning goofily, unaware of my shocked expression. "You could sit on the handlebars if you wanted to, but I wouldn't suggest it. That's how Pete got seven stitches in his head this past summer. But I wouldn't go full speed over any speed bumps with you on the handlebars like I did with Pete."

"I think I'll just sit on back," I responded weakly, going pale in the face. I had half a mind to walk back into the house and shut the door, but somehow I managed to put my helmet on and climb onto the back of the moped, and straddle Alan without touching him. He started down the street, and I awkwardly slid my arms around his waist, blushing profusely as I did. I must have looked like an apple with my red helmet and face.

Alan didn't go too fast, but it certainly felt like it to me. I forgot about feeling awkward and embarrassed, and held onto him for dear life, even burying my face in his back around some sharp turns. We didn't talk much on the ride over to the Rosebud, seeing as we would have to shout over the noise of the road and the moped. I was too busy concentrating on holding on, and I wasn't sure what to talk about anyway. It was a pretty short ride, surprisingly, and we arrived at the Rosebud in only a few minutes. I hopped off the bike, my legs wobbling like jelly. I took off my helmet and tried to quickly style my now flattened hair with my fingers.

"I get about 100 miles to the gallon on this hog," he said proudly, pulling off his own helmet and taking mine from me. Some people in the car next to us overheard him and started laughing. He turned and gave them a wave. I blushed a little and looked down at the ground, hoping I didn't know them. As we started walking inside, I tried to make small talk.

"So, do you ride your moped to school?" I asked politely. "I don't think I've seen it before."

"Nah, usually I just get a ride with Logan or somebody," he answered, holding the door open for me. "But seeing as I do not as of yet own an automobile, it's useful for getting around the booming metropolis of Stoneybrook, a town so huge I can ride across it on a moped in 15 minutes."

We were seated at a small booth in a far corner across from a group of about six middle school kids whom I vaguely recognized, possibly because they were or used to be friends with the children I once baby-sat. They were standing on their seats and shouting idiotic things at each other, and laughing at the most inane things. Alan and I opened up our menus and talked over the noise at the next table.

"Oh, to be young again," he quipped, leafing through the menu. One of the kids next to us started throwing food, and a fry landed in the middle of our table. Alan looked for a moment like he was planning on throwing something back, but I must have been shooting daggers at him with my eyes, because he quickly looked back to his menu. The conversation was a little strained after that. Alan told a lot of jokes, some funny, some not. The server came over and we quickly ordered our food.

"So, did you have a good time last night?" I asked, sipping my soda.

Alan shrugged.

"It was okay," he said. "But I got really sick this morning. I don't think I've ever threw up that much in my life. I mean, there was stuff in there I think I ate like three weeks ago." I crinkled my nose a little, and he quickly changed the subject. "What about you, I don't think I've ever seen you out at parties before."

"I had a pretty good time, in spite of throwing up and all the drama," I replied. "Claudia's fun and I had a good time hanging out with everyone."

"Yeah, Claudia's fun," he echoed, tearing up his paper straw wrapper and rolling it into little balls. "She's gotten pretty wild. I remember when we're going out she said she'd never do drugs or drink." He laughed. "That was a long time ago."

"I hope she doesn't do drugs, besides pots," I stumbled, my hand flying to my mouth after realizing I had said "pots" instead of "pot".

"Well, I mean that's understandable, I was really addicted to Tupperware for awhile," he joked, without even flinching at my flub. "It's a hard habit to break, let me tell you."

I laughed. Our food arrived, and we spent the rest of the time eating and making fun of the kids next to us.

"Is that one guy Pinocchio or something?" he said, pointing to a boy who was wearing suspenders and a paperboy cap for some god awful reason. Alan's voice took on a high pitched tone. "I'll be a real boy someday!"

I nearly spit my soda across the table.

"Don't do that while I'm drinking!" I choked, laughing at the same time.

"Wow, Mary Anne, you sure give a lot of commands," he teased. He attempted to do an imitation of me and pointed with his finger. "Alan, don't hit on me when you're drunk. Alan, don't go so fast around turns. Alan, don't make me laugh when I'm drinking. Alan, don't throw ice-cubes down my shirt."

"I never said that last thing!" I retorted. As if on cue, Alan flung with exact precision an ice cube down the front of my blouse. Now the kids next to us were looking at us like we were obnoxious idiots. I jumped nearly a mile and tried to shake it out. "Hey, don't…"

"Throw ice cubes down your shirt," he finished for me. "See, I knew you would say it. I know women too well." He cracked his knuckles and put on his best Rico Suave face. "Hey, you don't need…"

"No, I don't need any help getting the ice cube out of my shirt, thank you very much," I answered, giving him a smug, yet amused, look. He laughed and threw up his hands in defeat.

"Clearly, I've met my match," he said, smiling. For a moment we didn't say anything, and we stared at each other awkwardly. His eyes were a pretty amber color, and rather nice when he wasn't doing something goofy with them, like putting yellow M&M's on his eyelids and pretending to be Little Orphan Annie. I quickly tore my gaze away and instead looked at our mostly empty plates.

"Maybe we should ask for the check," I said, reaching for my purse.

"Sure," he said, signaling the server. "But don't worry about paying. I asked you out and I'll pay." We argued for a little bit about that; I insisted on paying for my meal, while he wanted to pay both. Eventually we agreed that I would pay for my dinner, but he would pay tax and tip. We paid our check and got up to leave the restaurant. As we walked towards the door, I caught sight of Logan, taking down a family's order on the other side of the cafe. When he saw us, he cast a quizzical look in our direction and walked over to us.

"What are you two doing here?" he asked, confused. He gave Alan a strange look.

"We just finished having dinner," I answered, sensing tension. Logan frowned slightly at my answer. Alan was giving Logan an equally strange look, although his seemed to suggest that he didn't understand Logan's reaction.

"Oh," he said tightly. "Well, I have to get back to work. See you guys later." He seemed to glare at us as we walked out the door. We were silent until we were a safe distance away.

"What was that about?" I asked as we reached Alan's moped, putting on my helmet.

Alan shrugged.

"I don't know, Logan's weird sometimes," he mumbled, putting on his own helmet and starting up his bike. He quickly changed the topic, and we rode off.

It had gotten a lot colder since we left the house, and I was actually thankful to have my arms wrapped around Alan. He was warm, at least. A shiver went up my back from the breeze.

"Getting excited back there, frisky?" joked Alan, yelling over the moped. I slapped his shoulder and turned red again for the second time that evening. We pulled up to my house and I jumped off and gave Alan back his helmet. We had another awkward moment, and I wasn't sure what to do.

"Um, thank you, for taking me out," I said, smiling. "I had fun."

"Any time," he answered. "Sorry about the moped. I know it's not the hot car you imagined a stud like me would have."

I laughed.

"It was fine," I replied sincerely. "I've never been on a moped before." There was a pause. I played with the strap on my purse a little nervously. "Do you think Logan was upset because we were on umm…a date together?

"Don't worry about Logan," he said, rolling his eyes. "He's just been PMSing lately." He started his moped again. "Well, I'll let you go."

I leaned in for a quick hug, and while I had my arms around my shoulder, he gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. It was light and formal, but sweet at the same time.

"Was that okay?" he asked gently, using a soft tone I had never heard Alan Gray use before in my life.

"Yes, that was okay," I affirmed, smiling. "Have a goodnight." I waved as he sped off, and then went inside, feeling the same sensation of enthusiasm I had earlier that day, but I quickly shook it off. I wasn't developing a crush on Alan Gray. That was impossible. Yet the feeling remained.

I tried to forget about it, and instead tried to call my father. He still didn't pick up. I was starting to get concerned. They had been gone quite some time, and it was unlike my father to not answer the phone, especially if he wasn't working. I checked the answering machine for messages, but a big red zero blinked from the screen. I decided maybe it was a good idea to fix Sharon's dress after all. She was already in a horrible mood, and I didn't want to add any fuel to the fire, as much as I couldn't stand Sharon these days.

I went up to my room, and plugged in my sewing machine. It didn't take me long at all to fix the dress. I walked downstairs and stashed the hideous thing back where Sharon had stored it.

"There you go, bitch," I said, shoving it back into hutch. I wanted nothing more than to cut it up into tiny pieces and spread the scraps all over the floor, right where even Sharon was sure to find them. I slammed the cabinet door before I could consider it any longer. The house was still for a moment, so I almost shrieked when my phone rang from the living room. I ran to get it, expecting it to be my father. Instead, to my complete surprise, it was Dawn.

"Hello?" I asked, not sure what to expect. "What's up?" Even though I knew differently, I pretended that our conversation was going to be a normal one.

"I need you to come to California," she croaked hoarsely. "As soon as you can."

"What!" I cried, sitting down. "Dawn, that is ridiculous! I have school! Plus, you're going to have to tell me what you did before I fly to other side of the country." All formality had been dropped. I heard Dawn sigh on the other end of the phone.

"It doesn't matter," she said. She paused for a minute, and then realized I wasn't going to talk until she told me the truth. "Carol caught me selling pot to some kids, and she wants to kick me out and call the cops. She said she doesn't want that going on in her house around Gracie, or some crap like that."

"So what do you want me to do about it?" I asked, a little bewildered. It wasn't as if I would have any sway over Carol. "I don't know how I could help you."

"You can bring back your father," she answered. Her response dropped flatly between us.

"What?" I asked quietly. "What do you mean, bring back my father?"

"Don't you know?" declaimed Dawn. "My mother and your father are coming to California. Both of them. Richard refused to let her come without him. He said she was too worked up to come alone."

"I didn't know that!" I cried. "I've been trying to reach my father all night."

"I don't want him here," she replied bluntly. "He'll only make things worse."

Her answer made my blood boil.

"Listen, just because you were stupid and your father is a snarky ass who is probably going to be completely helpless to you in this situation, don't take it out on my dad," I practically yelled into the phone. "I think you're the one who made things worse."

"I'm sorry," apologized Dawn, sighing again. "I've been through a lot of shit tonight. I didn't mean to insult your dad, but there are enough people involved in it already. I'm almost about to kick myself out, just so I don't have to deal with it anymore."

"Well, I'm sure he is just going to make sure your Mom gets to California safely," I replied primly. "He didn't bring any luggage with him, so I doubt he'll stay long enough to intervene."

"If he does stay longer than that, will you come?" she pleaded into the phone. "I can keep my mom under control, but not both of them. I'll need your help. I have enough trouble with Carol."

"Whatever," I said. It was my turn to sigh. "Just give me a call if anything else happens." I paused. "Where are you staying tonight?"

"Sunny's" she replied. "Carol doesn't want me in the house at all. When my mom comes, I'm going to stay at the hotel with her." Her voice trembled a little. "I'm so stupid."

"You'll be okay," I reassured her. "Carol won't call the cops. She just needs time to cool off, understandably so. At least she caught you and not the police. It could have been a lot worse."

"That's what Sunny keeps saying," she said, her voice still again. "She wants me to braid her hair, so I'm gonna go. I'll call you soon." She hung up abruptly before I had a chance to say goodbye.

The last thing I wanted to do was go to California. I'm not a big fan of the state or of Dawn's family. I resolved to stay at home, even if it meant abandoning my stepsister. It wasn't my problem, and like Dawn had implied, it wasn't my father's. California was no more a home to me than Connecticut was to Dawn. I sat down on the couch and decided to stay in and watch a movie by myself. A few days ago I had cried because I had felt so alone; now that I had plenty of people to hang out with, all I wanted was to be by myself. I made a bowl of popcorn and with Tigger on my lap watched Funny Face and Sabrina, two movies guaranteed to put me in a good mood. Afterwards I went to bed, tucking a sleepy Tigger under my arm.

I woke up early next morning and called my father, who actually answered, despite it being so early in California. He apologized for not calling sooner and told me what had happened with Dawn, even though I already knew at that point.

"Are you going to stay long?" I asked, remembering what Dawn had said last night.

"I don't think so," he replied. "I'll probably be back late tonight. I honestly don't want to be here any longer than I have to."

I understood completely. We said goodbye and hung up. I spent the rest of the morning doing my homework, managing to finish most of it by one. The rest of the day was fairly uneventful; I called Claudia to fill her in on the situation with Dawn and my date with Alan. It was a gorgeous autumn day, so we decided to meet in the park.

The park was packed with children, as was expected for a nice Sunday afternoon, one of the few left before it would get cold. Some of the Perkinses' and the Rodowsky's were playing on the jungle gym, the younger ones being carefully watched by their older siblings. Claudia was sitting on the bleachers by the baseball field when I reached the park, leaning back and smoking a cigarette. She looked a little bit like a chic bag lady, wearing an oversized long blue shirt with a hood, a brown broom skirt over blue leggings, and about three multicolor scarves.

"I wanted to go on the swings, but some bitch parent yelled at me for smoking around her children," she scoffed. "They were like fifty feet away too."

"So how was it at Caleb's last night?" I asked, sitting down next to her.

"Caleb got trashed," she said after inhaling slowly. "But he was the only one. I spent the night at his house, holding his head over the toilet." She paused and smirked at me. "He's pretty hot, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I think so," I replied half-heartedly. He wasn't really my type. But then again, I never would have thought Alan Gray would be my type either.

"Of course, he's no Alan," teased Claudia, reading my thoughts. "So, do you think you two are gonna do something again?"

"I don't know," I said casually, shrugging my shoulders in an attempt to look indifferent. "Maybe if he asks. Why are you so adamant about seeing us together?"

Claudia blinked, taken back by my last question.

"I'm not adamant about anything," she retorted, throwing her butt onto the baseball field. "I just thought you and Alan would be cute together. And good for each other, which is something you said to me earlier this week."

"I didn't mean it in a bad away," I contended, defending myself. "I guess I just never would have thought of me and Alan in that way ever before."

As I was talking I noticed a girl with dyed black hair in a pair of tight fitting jeans and a low cut shirt walking our way. As she got closer, I noticed it was Jacqui Grant. Claudia waved as she approached us on the bleachers.

"Hey," said Jacqui, leaning on the railing. I could practically see all the way down her shirt. "You coming or not?"

"Yeah, I'm coming," yawned Claudia, stretching as she got up from the bleacher. "Want to come with us?" I thought I saw Jacqui cast Claudia a sour look, and pursed her lips, which were covered in light pink lipstick and outlined in tacky red lip liner.

"Where are you going?" I asked, getting up. I wasn't really going to go, but I was curious to why she was hanging out with Jacqui, who had dropped out of school last year. Before that she had held the double title of the school's biggest slut and stoner.

"Just out," she said, shrugging her shoulders. Jacqui gave her an all-knowing expression and snickered a little under her breath.

"No thanks," I replied. "I better go home."

Jacqui looked like she was going to say something snotty in return, but thought better of it when she saw Claudia hug me goodbye. They both gave a brief wave and headed towards the direction of a beat up blue car. I knew better than to ask.

I walked slowly home. It was starting to get colder as evening set in, and I could smell someone's fire burning in their fireplace, sending a black trail of chimney smoke into the sky and an equally ominous chill up my spine. I used to enjoy the scent of burning wood in the fall, but not anymore. The fire at the house changed that for me.

It looked like I was going to spend another night home alone. I walked into an empty house and felt Tigger brush up against my leg as I turned to flick on the light. I turned on most of the lights downstairs, and the hall light upstairs, like I do most nights when I'm home alone. In my room, I sat down at my desk and tried to finish my homework. I sighed. It seemed like every week there was more and more work to keep up with. I opened up my Physics book and tried to concentrate on the third chapter. About halfway through a section on the electromagnetic spectrum, I heard my text message alarm go off. I picked it up and saw a message from Alan written across the screen: hd a grt time ystrdy – c u shcl tomrow ;-).

Even though I hated abbreviations even in text messages, it was a nice way to end the weekend.