Chapter 9: A Break In Tradition

Elizabeth stared down at the phone cradled in her lap. She should have just said it. The words had been right there on the tip of her tongue as she'd twined the cord around her fingers. But she had blurted out "I'll see you in a few days" instead. Well, okay, maybe she hadn't blurted the words-she had handled herself with more dignity than that. But she might as well have with how quickly her confused and hurt feelings deterred her mouth from saying the phrase "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you" was what they always said to one another as Red was leaving Nebraska to return to work, or right before they ended their conversations over the phone. They had been saying it to each other for as long as she could remember. Liz had actually asked him recently who had started that tradition. It had been a couple months ago. They'd been sitting side by side at Terabithia-that's what she called her secret grove with the pond...she'd borrowed the name from a book that had been one of her favorites growing up-their bare feet dangling in the cool water. Chuckling, he had recounted the time when she had been six years old and had thrown a fit when he had tried to hug her goodbye.

"You were so upset I was leaving that you threw one of the most spectacular temper tantrums I have ever seen in my life!" he had teased her. "And then before I could do or say anything you flew out of the house like a bat out of Hell and hid up in the loft."

"I didn't!"

"You did! And you wouldn't come down so I had to climb up there after you. Lizzy, I crawled around in the straw wearing a fifteen hundred dollar suit!" he had moaned dramatically. "Not to mention the fact that I scuffed my very expensive French shoes on the ladder..."

She had laughed, flushing in both embarrassment and amusement. "I bet you were quite a sight!"

"Oh I was. But you were too, with your scabby knees and dirt smudged all over your face. And your hair looked like a bird's nest with all that straw tangled in the strands." Then his laughing eyes had roved affectionately over her. "You know, nothing's really changed all that much. You still have smudges," his thumb had briefly rubbed at her cheek, removing a spot of dirt, "and stuff in your hair," his fingers had pulled a leaf and some dandelion fluff from her ponytail.

Liz had wrinkled her nose at him, trying to ignore the little flip her tummy had done at his touch. "I think I kind of remember this now." She waved a hand. "Vaguely."

"Mmm." He had rubbed the dandelion seeds gently between his fingers before blowing on them. The breeze had carried them out across the water. "You wouldn't talk to me or even look at me so I waited you out."

"You know, I actually do remember doing that!" she had grinned.

"Mmmhmm. I waited a while, you know. Stubborn girl."

"Who me?" she had asked, widening her eyes in feigned innocence.

"Yes, you," he'd snorted, tapping the tip of her nose with a finger.

She had bitten her lip, looking down at their lazily splashing feet and the tiny fish that came over to brush curiously against their toes.

"But eventually you looked at me and I got you talking to me again."

"Yeah. And you told me you'd come back."

"Mmm. Then I made a solemn promise that you wouldn't get in trouble with Sam for losing your temper." His smile had been warm as their eyes had met. "That's when you said it."

And that was the moment, there at Terabithia, when she had realized that she liked him.

Liz frowned down at her phone.

The realization had struck her as sort of weird at first because she knew just how old Red was. But the thing was, he didn't seem old, like how Sam was old, or how her teachers at school were old. Red was always so...energetic. And the more she had thought about it, trying to make sense of it, the more she realized why. He had a deep appreciation and zest for life, embracing it passionately without hesitation and-seemingly-without fear. Curiosity spurred him on to keep learning and trying new things so he was a man of many talents and hobbies. He was very well-read and an excellent storyteller with an inherent flair for comedy and the dramatic. He had gained wisdom from living his life out in the busy world...and from experiencing firsthand rapturous joy and heartbreaking pain and loss. He understood people, how they thought, and why they behaved the way they did. He had a sense of humor, ranging from dark to light, snarky to witty. He could be gentle and kind, but he also had a temper that could burn slowly or rage like a wildfire. All those things were mixed up inside him, making him more than an age. To Elizabeth, he was just Red.

No matter what they were doing, whether they were bumming around the house or yard chatting, whether they were walking Bronn or riding, whether he was helping her with her homework...just being in his company made her feel happy, as it had ever since she'd been a little girl. Even when he was being downright arrogant or condescending, and she was irritated or honestly angry with him, she found that despite it all she still wanted to hang around him.

It was quite the opposite with her adoptive father. Whenever she was irritated or furious with Sam, usually a slamming door somewhere in the house followed their argument and she got as far away from him as possible. Which reminded her... "Shit," she muttered. She should probably tell him about Derek asking her out, otherwise there was going to be an extremely awkward moment at the front door in a couple hours. And she'd be screwed if Sam heard about the date from Red first rather than from her.

Sighing, Liz set the phone on her nightstand and stood up. If only it were as easy to set her regret aside! She should've said the words. It felt strange that she hadn't. Whatever, Liz. Forget it. They're just words. Focus on the night ahead. Derek was taking her out for dinner and a movie. It was probably the most cliche date in the history of the modern world, but it was still a date. Her first one.

What the Hell was she going to wear?

Chewing on her lower lip, she opened her closet and stared at all the jeans and tops hanging there. Most of her clothes were casual. But lately she'd been using her allowance to buy fancier stuff...blouses that were cut a little lower than the basic tee...bras and underwear that actually had lace woven in to them...jeans that were different colors besides varying shades of blue-and a size smaller so they'd hug her body a bit more.

Peeling off her shirt, she threw it in the laundry basket and stood in front of the full length mirror to look critically at herself. Athletic build, she supposed. Runner's legs. Flat tummy. Small breasts. Skinny arms. Pointed chin. Sharp cheekbones. Long, unruly dark hair. She guessed her nose was cute. That's what Derek told her, anyway. And she did like her blue eyes.

Not a little girl anymore, but as Red had so bluntly pointed out, not yet a woman either.

Liz glared at her reflection, a wave of anger crashing over her, stealing away her regret. She was mad at him still. That was the main reason why she hadn't kept with the traditional sign off. Despite forgiving him-kind of-she was angry with him for insisting on treating her like a child, for not approving of Derek, for having a woman in his hotel room. She wasn't an idiot. She'd heard that very feminine chuckle in the background before Red had probably gone into another room. And then he had completely ignored her question, like she was too young to handle the fact that he was hooking up with someone. And then to freaking lecture her about sex when he was probably with that woman right now and...

Snarling quietly to herself, she turned away from the mirror and grabbed her newest black bra. After she hooked it into place, she tugged the black blouse with the capped ruffle sleeves off the hanger and slipped it on over her head. The V came further down her chest than her other shirts, and it clung to her figure-or lack thereof-like a second skin. Sam wouldn't approve. It showed a lot of pale, milky skin.

She'd have to wear a jacket until she got to the movies.

She angrily kicked off her shorts and tugged on her new black denims. God, she looked like she was going to a funeral. Was it too much black? She should break it up with a belt. Kneeling down, she dug around in the lowest dresser drawer until her fingers brushed against what she was looking for. Pulling the belt carefully out of the disorganized mess, she gazed down at it. It was a vintage piece but the brown leather had been polished until it shone, the huge, genuine silver buckle gleamed in the lamplight, and the rearing horse that had been etched into it looked so real she could almost hear it neigh. It was a beautiful piece of art. Red had given it to her a couple years ago for her birthday. She didn't really want to wear something he'd given her right now but it was the fanciest, most expensive belt she owned. With narrowed eyes she threaded it through the loops on her jeans and then defiantly tightened it until it emphasized her small waist the way she wanted it to.

Liz braced her hands against her hips and studied herself in the mirror. Not bad.

She needed to do her makeup.

Since she didn't have a mother to teach her-it was second nature now for Liz to ignore the sharp, twisting pain within her heart whenever she thought of her long-deceased mother-she'd had to go off of what she had seen in movies and in the girl's locker room at school to figure out how to do her own makeup. Observation was an adequate teacher. Certainly not the ideal-not even close-but at least it got the job done.

Liz dusted her face and lids with various fresh and dusky colors, then finished all her efforts off with a stoke of mascara for each set of lashes. Brushing her hair, she attempted to braid it back...then stopped. No. She'd leave it down to frame her face and shoulders. It was prettier that way. And she wanted to be pretty tonight. She wanted to experience that particular masculine attention girls got on dates, and she certainly wasn't going to get it from the person she wanted it from. That would be like a serious felony or something. And besides, he'd never see her that way anyway. He'd made that perfectly clear over the phone this evening.

Liz's brow furrowed. If Derek, funny, charming, "bad-boy" Derek, was to be the one to give her the kind of attention she wanted so much, then so be it. If tonight went well-and she had a feeling it would-then she would continue to go out with him. If she did that, then maybe Red would see that she wasn't such a young kid after all.

Maybe he would begin to see that she was older...and more... than what he persisted in believing her to be.