Chapter 5
"What's wrong?" Gerry exclaimed one night, as Isabelle limped out to his car. She winced and rubbed her behind.
"Well, when you called me this afternoon to see if I was busy, I was in the shower. My mom went over to her friend's house or something and so I ran out to get it. By the time we hung up, there was a huge puddle of water at my feet. I slipped and WHAMO, I'm looking at that gross spider web on my ceiling."
He laughed and helped her into his Camero. "I'm sorry. Okay, so where do you want to eat?"
She threw her hands up. "I don't know; I've barely lived here for two weeks!"
"To Burger World then. Best cheeseburgers in town," he grinned, backing out of her driveway.
A few minutes later, the two of them were sitting in a booth-for-two at Burger World, with a whirlwind of familiar faces from T.C. Williams around them. Burger World was quite plain; regular black vinyl booths, chairs, and stools, aluminum tables and countertops, and a jukebox near the front of the establishment. Past the people eating at the counter, the hired help behind the counter, you were able to see the food being prepared.
"So, why aren't you taking Emma out tonight?" Isabelle asked, handing the waitress her menu. She folded her hands on the table and looked at Gerry, who sat back.
"She's not feeling well."
Isabelle laughed out loud. "Well, then, shouldn't you be there with her cooking up a big pot of chicken noodle soup?"
He shrugged. "She likes to be alone when she's sick." He decided to turn the tables and asked her about Ray, as their drinks arrived.
"What about him?" She giggled and her eyes lit up. "Did you think we were dating? Ha! We went on like, two dates and that's about it. He's a lot to take, if you ask me. Nope, sorry, Ray's not my cup of Earl Grey."
Their food soon arrived and they ate, an awkward silence never falling between them. Isabelle had plenty to say and ask, and Gerry was always ready with an answer or an argument. They found out that they had more in common than they thought and enjoyed each company throughout the night. It turns out that they both listened to the same type of music, they were both only children, and they both liked the same foods—those were a few of the things they had in common, among the long list.
"So, you want to go see a movie?" Isabelle asked, as they finished eating. "My treat."
"Oof!" Isabelle winced slightly and gave Sheryl a thumbs up sign. "Nice pass."
Isabelle never imagined that morning that she'd be spending her evening baby-sitting Sheryl. Then again, she never imagined that her mother and Coach Yoast would go out on a *date*. Coach Yoast had dropped his daughter off at the Brookes' when he picked up Isabelle's mother, and after they left, she had spent about half an hour explaining to Sheryl what was going on between their parents. But, she had soon grown restless and dragged her baby sitter out to the backyard where she found an old basketball in the shed. Since there was an old, rusting metal hoop already installed on the garage, Sheryl proposed a game.
"Thanks," she said. "But, I prefer football."
Isabelle winked. "I prefer football *players*." She dribbled and made a shot, and they watched it teeter on the ring. The two girls still stared at the ball and finally watched it fall to the ground without going in the net. But, their attention was suddenly redirected to the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.
"Gerry!" the little girl exclaimed excitedly, dashing towards the car.
"Hey there," he laughed, high-fiving her. "Playing a little game of basketball?" She nodded her head vigorously, when he squatted down and looked up at her. "She any good?" he whispered loudly. Before she could answer, he said, "I saw her last shot. She could use some work, don't you think?"
Isabelle laughed and put her hands on her hips, pretending to be offended. "Yes, I know I'm not good at sports; what are you going to do about it?"
"What we're going to do, is play," Sheryl declared. "You can have Gerry on your team. Then, *maybe* you can beat me."
Even though she was half their size, Sheryl proved to be a great athlete. When they played, she quickly scored the first basket, and Gerry right after her. Once, he passed Isabelle the ball, and her shot didn't go in, so she braced herself for the teasing comments she knew she was going to get.
"Some offense you got!" Gerry joked, pushing her around. They continued playing, unaware of the sun setting, the cooling autumn breeze picking up, and the night sky starting to fall upon Alexandria. The days were becoming shorter and the nights coming quicker, but none of that was on their minds as they continued playing. At one point, as Isabelle chased Sheryl and the ball, Gerry grabbed hold of her.
"Go, Sheryl, go!" he exclaimed. She made her shot and cast him a confused look.
"Isabelle's on *your* team!"
He laughed and released his teammate. "I know. The game was tied and I had to let you win so it'd end." He winked. "Besides, it's gettin' cold out here; we ought to get you inside before you get sick." Isabelle agreed and led them inside her house through the backdoor and into the kitchen.
"Are you hungry?" she asked, taking them to the den and study room at the back of her house. She ushered the two to take a seat on the plush, worn in, blue couch in front of the television. "There's a good movie on tonight and if you'd like; I'll go warm something up. I think we have some frozen pizzas."
"Cheese?" Sheryl asked, looking up from her spot on the couch.
"Cheese," she assured. "I'll be back in a few minutes then." She left them in the den and made her way back to her small kitchen, when she heard footsteps behind her. Spinning around, she found Gerry standing in the doorway.
"I really hope you don't mind that I just dropped by," he apologized, watching her pull a large, round pizza from her freezer.
"Of course I don't mind, silly," she laughed. She quieted down as she unwrapped their dinner and placed it into the oven. "I. . .I just wonder why you're not with Emma tonight."
The burly football player sighed and sat down at her kitchen table. "She went out to dinner with her family; it's her daddy's birthday."
"Well, I'm glad you came here, then." Isabelle sensed that there was more to the story than he was conveying. Maybe it's just hopeful thinking, she told herself. But, no. I can sense it. Something's bugging that boy.
Two hours, a movie, and two pizzas later Isabelle looked over at Sheryl, who wedged herself between Isabelle and Gerry, to find her slumped against him, fast asleep. Isabelle smiled up at him and leaned over to wipe some pizza sauce from Sheryl's cheek. They moved silently, as he carefully slid out from under the sleeping girl and rested her head on a nearby pillow, and Isabelle put a blanket over her and cleaned up the mess. He followed her to the kitchen, as she stuffed a few napkins in the garbage.
"I can't believe it; Yoast and your mom," Gerry laughed. "What a small world; the two of them meeting again."
Before she could respond, they heard the front door opening and left the kitchen to see who it was. Mrs. Brooke and Coach Yoast walked into the living room, a bundle of laughs and giggles, both looking years younger. Mrs. Brooke was blushing and giggling like a schoolgirl, and Coach Yoast had a sparkle in his eye that Gerry hadn't seen before. The two adults looked up at the two staring teenagers, and returned their gawk with one of their own.
"Gerry?" Coach Yoast asked, his eyebrows bunching in confusion and suspicion. "Uh, what are you doing here?"
"Oh, yes!" Isabelle exclaimed, snapping her fingers. "Mom, this is Gerry Bertier. Gerry, this is my mom." He stepped forward to shake her hand and caught Mrs. Brooke shoot Isabelle a bewildered expression that said, "Isabelle, what are you doing having strange boys over at night? When I'm gone and you're baby sitting, nonetheless!"
"I just dropped by to say hello—" he started.
"And I invited him to stay with me and Sheryl," she finished. She turned to Coach Yoast. "She's in the den sleeping. We ate already and we watched a movie. She was lots of fun."
"Behaved?" he asked, as she led him towards the back of the house, leaving Mrs. Brooke and Gerry in the living room.
"Oh, yes, Sheryl was perfect."
"No," Coach Yoast laughed, "I meant Gerry."
Back in the living room, Gerry quickly excused himself to retrieve his jacket from the den. He hurried after his friend and coach, wanting to avoid the awkward silence that would be inevitable between him and Mrs. Brooke. He watched his coach gather his sleeping daughter in his arms and carry her out, winking at Gerry as he passed him. He and Isabelle heard the two adults exchange a few words before the coach left, and she led him back to the kitchen.
"Thanks for coming over," Isabelle smiled, walking Gerry out to the back door where his car was parked. He looked down at her in the eye and gave her a quick hug.
"Thanks for letting me stay. I'll see you later."
"Gerry, what a surprise," Mrs. Brooke exclaimed one afternoon. She quickly ushered him inside, and closed the door behind him. "What brings you here?"
"Well, Isabelle hasn't been in school for two days, and I just came by after practice to check up on her."
She smiled, touched by his gesture. "Well, she's right upstairs in her room. Why don't you go say hello?" She led him to the kitchen and handed him a bowl of chicken noodle soup. "Would you mind bringing this up to her? I need to run to the post office and the grocery store really quick; if you don't mind."
"Oh, no," he assured, taking the bowl from her. "Take your time."
She left him soon, and he quietly went up the stairs to look for his friend. He peaked into the first room on his left and tried to suppress his laughter. The usually poised Isabelle was now a sick wreck, as half her body hung off the side of her bed. Her dark locks were disarrayed in tangles and she laid face down, wheezing every now and then. Her blankets and pillows were scattered about her, Isabelle having twisted and turned all possible positions during the night.
Before he stepped in to let her acknowledge his presence, he looked around her room. All her furniture was white; her desk, her dresser, her closet door, her bed post, her bookshelf, and her night stand. Her walls were painted a soft yellow, and her white curtains were pulled back to let the sunlight stream into her room through the windows. There was a record player on the floor next to the bookshelf with piles and piles of records, and a radio right next to it. Pictures, magazines, more records, and books were in various piles around her bed; obviously there to keep her entertained while she was bedridden. Her night table was a nightmare; three used boxes of tissue and a garbage bin next to it full of used wads of them. A spoon, bottles of medication, glasses of juice and water, and bags and wrappers of cough drops piled on top of one another.
Balancing the soup with on one hand, he softly knocked on the door and he entered slowly. She heavily lifted her face up, and when she saw Gerry, she screamed and fell off her bed. Quickly putting the bowl down on her desk, he rushed over to help her up. Behind her messy hair, he saw her familiar brown eyes puffy and swollen and her nose red from blowing it constantly.
"Are you all right?" he exclaimed, helping her back into her bed.
"Yeah, thanks." She groaned and buried her face into her pillow. "What are you *doing* here?"
"Visiting. Here's some soup," he said, picking up the bowl and offering it to her. She weakly shook her head and ducked under the covers.
"Here's a tip; I don't like company when I'm sick. I feel gross, I look gross, and I don't really want my friends to see that."
"Tough," he shot back, grabbing her white desk chair and pulling it up by her. "I came to keep you company and I ain't leavin' any time soon."
She glared at him from under her covers and shook her head. "Don't you have football stuff to do?" He shook his head and she groaned even louder with exasperation and went back under. Suddenly, her hand shot out from under the blanket and she felt around on the floor until she found a hair tie. She pulled her messy mop back from her face and smiled wanly at Gerry. "I'll take the Miss America pageant by storm with this look, don't you think?"
"Hands down," he laughed.
Gerry spent the rest of the afternoon with Isabelle, keeping her company and keeping her entertained with stories about the football team, what was happening at school, and just idle things. The two always had something to say to each other, and so they never got bored together.
"See, no, *this* one is supposed to make your skin smooth and stuff, and *this* one hides all your skin defects and blemishes," Isabelle explained. She and Gerry were sitting side by side on the floor, their backs against her bed, with one of her magazines between them.
"Think I need it?" he joked, jutting his cheek out at her for inspection. She patted it, laughing, and pushed his face away from her.
"Smooth as a baby's behind," she teased. Isabelle flipped the page and saw Gerry check his wrist watch and sag his broad shoulders.
"Well, I hate to leave you now, but I gotta get home for supper," he said, his tone of voice disappointed. He stood up and grabbed his jacket and backpack as she hoisted herself up. "I'll see you tomorrow morning?"
She nodded. "Bright and early."
RING! RING!
Isabelle scooped up the telephone in her room, as she signaled for Gerry to wait for her.
"Ray? Hi," she said into the phone. "Listen, can you hold on a few moments? Thanks."
