Chapter 6
"Well, look who's back among the living," Sunshine teased two days later, as he and Julius approached Isabelle at her locker.
"You feelin' better? If not, you better get your sick behind well in time to watch us at regionals," Julius joked, patting her shoulder.
"Oh, I'll be there," she assured, smiling up at them. "Ray told me what happened at Groveton last night. Is Rev doin' all right?" Isabelle closed the metal door and glanced up to where Gerry was going through his own belongings down the hall and found Rev standing by him, his wrist bandaged up. "Never mind; come on."
She sped down the hall with Sunshine and Julius at her heels and stopped abruptly in front of Rev, gently taking his injured hand in hers. "How's it feel?" she asked him, inspecting his wrist. She was concerned for him—he was the first person who befriended her in Alexandria.
"It's not throbbing with pain anymore," he offered, shrugging his shoulders. "It feels sore; that's about it."
Isabelle smiled and then turned to Sunshine and gave him a big pat on his back. "And I heard about your stunning performance last night, too! Way to go, dude!" He laughed, as Gerry shut his locker and turned around, his face somewhat expressionless.
"Did you hear about Ray, too?"
She stopped showering Rev and Sunshine with praise and looked at Gerry with a strange expression on her face. "Yes. He called me last night and told me everything." He stared at her, preparing for her to defend Ray. "That had to be hard; telling him that. I know you two were close and I'm sorry you had to go through it."
He looked back at her, stunned. "How come you're not defending him?"
"Ray?" she laughed. "Come on. Coach Yoast came by our house last night to drop something off for Mom and he told me everything that happened—what really happened." She looked down at her watch. "Speaking of which, I promised that I'd meet Ray before school started. I'll see you guys later!" She flashed them a bright smile and skipped down the corridor.
"Bertier, what's the matter? You looked disturbed," Sunshine asked, as Isabelle took off down the hallway.
Julius studied his friend, and felt suspicions rising. Suspicions that he's had before, that have lingered in him for a while, and suspicions that are now showing a little truth in them. It's like living in a soap opera, Julius thought.
Gerry cleared his throat and caught Julius' knowing expression, and then averted his eyes. "To be perfectly honest, Ray isn't the nicest guy around. Especially now, having been kicked off the team. He's just. . . he's just not the best person to be dating."
Sunshine shrugged, oblivious to Gerry's feelings. "She'll be fine."
"Are you busy tonight?"
Isabelle looked at her reflection in the mirror and made a sour face. She was trying out a new make up kit her mom had given her and decided that blue eyeshadow wasn't for her. "No," she told Gerry on the phone, "why? Do you want to do something?" She vigorously wiped off the harsh blue color, and tentatively popped open the cap of the new tube of Stormy Scarlet and stared at it, contemplating on whether to smear it on her pink lips or not, for it was too wild for her liking.
"Yeah, I do—that's why I called. Anything in mind?"
She looked up at the mirror and crinkled her forehead with worry. Gerry's voice sounded particularly anxious and agitated. But, she wouldn't question him just yet. Isabelle would wait until they were out and he was more relaxed.
"Well," she said lightly, trading the lipstick for her usual pink gloss, and then dabbling in the variety of blush colors, "I haven't been given the official tour of Alexandria yet. . ."
"So, where are you taking me first?" she asked, as she ushered Gerry into the living room. She pulled on her jacket and buttoned it up, as he reopened her front door. He placed his hand at her back and led her out, and then let her lock her front door.
"We're going to eat, that's where we're going first," he declared, as they got into his car and he pulled out onto her street. "What do you feel like having tonight?" There was a short silence of thought when they both said, "Italian?"
Isabelle snorted with laughter, "I have to admit; we've been spending a lot of time together." She looked out her window as Gerry drove out of the winding streets full of houses and garages and parks and onto the brightly lit streets of downtown Alexandria. Little restaurants and shops were lined up, one after the other, some brimming with activity, and others starting to close for the night. Light spilled onto the sidewalks, illuminating silhouettes of people walking along, entering a store, or leaving a restaurant.
Soon, Gerry pulled up in front of a small, corner lot and parked next to it. A simple red and white sign hung in front of it; Little Italy. He ushered her into the itty bitty place, and Isabelle was immediately taken with the establishment. It's smallness was part of the cozy feel you sensed as soon as you stepped inside. There were cushioned, spacious booths lining both sides of the restaurant and running down the center. The ceiling lights were dimmed, and the room was mostly lit by the candle light by each table. Every thing was furnished with dark cherry wood, and the seats were cushioned red. The walls were cream and maroon, and the only decoration offered by Little Italy were long strings of grape vines and ivy. Soft Italian opera songs played to a couple tucked away in the back—they were the only customers at the moment.
"It's a little Alexandria secret," Ryan told her, as they were seated in a booth for two. "No one knows about this place; even though this town is tiny. But, the food here is the best."
"That was delicious!" Isabelle raved, as she and Gerry walked out of the restaurant and to his car . "I've never had Italian food that good."
He beamed, "I'm glad you liked it. Now, where shall we go next?" He looked down at her as she buckled her seatbelt. "There really isn't much to show, I'm sorry. Just. . . oh, wait a minute. I've got an idea."
"Really, what?" she asked, detecting a gleam in his eye. He was starting to ease up and relax, but Isabelle could tell there was still something on his mind. She hadn't conjured up the nerve to ask him what exactly it was that was preoccupying his thoughts.
She pried him to tell her where he was taking her, but he wouldn't give in. They argued the whole time until she realized that he had slowed to a stop. She looked out and laughed. "An ice rink?" she asked skeptically.
"Come on," he coaxed, getting out and leading her to the small rink. "It'll be fun. Especially since it won't be crowded." He motioned to the nearly empty parking lot and opened the door for her to the rink.
"Yeah, a big guy like you needs all the space he can get," she teased, handing the teller their fee.
"Are you saying I'm fat?!" he exclaimed, pretending to be offended. He laughed lightly and retrieved their skates, leading her to a bench for them to get ready.
"Gerry, you ate a huge bowl of spaghetti and meatballs, half a loaf of garlic bread, cheese sticks, and a salad!" She smiled at him and nudged his shoulder. "I'm joking. Look at that muscle!" She squeezed his arm and laughed. As she bent up to tie her skates, Isabelle was conscious of his presence next to her. He was sitting close to her—she thanked Heaven that the benches were small—and she felt his arm brush against hers on more than one occasion. Little excited tingles ran up and down her and she swallowed silently.
I'm falling for this guy, aren't I? Isabelle thought to herself. Well, no one can *ever* know it. Gerry stood up and offered Isabelle a hand. She accepted and balanced on the two thin blades as they made their way to the rink. She thought, But holding hands can't hurt, right?
Lost in her thoughts, she wasn't fully aware as she stepped onto the ice and she immediately slid. . . right into Gerry's arms. She looked up—and up—at him as he grinned mischievously.
"You. . . don't skate?" he guessed.
"Only a little," she fibbed. "But, uh, why don't you race me to the other side?"
He looked down at her thoughtfully. "Wanna wager that?"
"Loser buys ice cream."
Gerry's brown eyes lit up and he eagerly accepted the challenge. Instantly, the race began, and Gerry whizzed by. Let's see, he thought, I think I'll have a hot fudge sundae—no wait, maybe a banana split—what?! He suddenly saw Isabelle fly right past him and expertly stop at the end. Smiling smugly at him, she lightly tapped the railing.
"Let's see, Gerry," she called out, "I think I'm in the mood for a banana split. Or maybe a double scoop of chocolate chip?" He laughed and skated over to where she was waiting for him.
"You tricked me!" he exclaimed. "I wanna rematch!" She accepted with a handshake and they readied themselves at the end of the bare rink. They raced down the ice, both huffing and puffing to reach the end, when Gerry pulled ahead. I'm gonna wi—ahh! He suddenly slipped and slid down the ice on his behind, all the while facing Isabelle, who was charging on smiling and laughing. He waited a few seconds until she was passing right by him, when he grabbed onto her leg, bringing her down.
"Hey, cheater!" she exclaimed, still trying to reach the end. She was crawling as best as she could with Gerry clinging onto her, when she felt him release her. They both scrambled up and tried to beat each other when he slipped again and crashed into Isabelle, sending the both of them tumbling onto the cold, white ice.
"You really want that ice cream, don't you?" she exclaimed in between fits of laughter. The laughter soon started to die out and she looked up at Gerry who was sprawled out on top of her. Her heart started racing, as he tried to get up. He was right on top of her, but he kept slipping, so he wasn't really getting anywhere. She cleared her thoughts and smiled. "Here," she offered, "let me help you." She then placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him off her, sending him sliding over to her right.
"Let's take a walk," Isabelle suggested, as she and Gerry walked out of the ice cream shop. He led her down the sidewalk, the late streets of Alexandria now almost deserted. The two had actually slipped into the ice cream shop a minute before it closed. Now, the two of them strolled down the main street with ice cream cones in their hands. They walked, a comforting and familiar silence between them, as Gerry led her down different streets and turned on different corners.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked, popping the end of her sugar cone in her mouth. Gerry had long finished his, and he offered her a sly smile; the only consolation as to where they were going. She looked up at the dark sky and reveled in the beauty of the glowing stars and iridescent moon. The night made the air around them grow colder, as a slight breezed billowed past them. "It's a pretty night."
He seemed startled by her sudden words as he looked down at her, and then up at the sky. "Yeah. . . I suppose it is."
"It's never this nice in the city—especially one like Los Angeles. Now, where are you taking me again?"
He laughed, and nodded up ahead, letting her laughter float about him. Before them was the grand football field of the T.C. Williams Titans. They soon approached the open field, the scent of the dewy grass pungent in the cool evening air. Some of the lights were turned on, leaving a dim blanket of light for them to creep onto the bleachers overlooking their school field.
"Gerry," she said softly, deciding that now was the time. He was in his element and should be feeling quite comfortable and relaxed. "There's been something on your mind hasn't there? And it's been bugging you."
He looked sharply at her, his eyes asking her how she could have guessed. They looked at each other, and after a few moments she said, "That's all right; you don't have to tell me anything."
"It's just," he hesitated, " me and Emma. . . we're having a few relationship problems. . ."
Isabelle's initial reaction was one of concern, rather than the happiness she thought she should expect. "I'm sure you two will work it out."
"I don't know," he said sadly, "it just ain't there anymore. We've grown apart. We're too different now. We tried working it out and spending more time together, but it just ain't workin'." And I think I know why, he thought gazing at Isabelle's worried face.
"Is there anything I can do? Talk to Emma for you?"
He shook his head and sighed, "Oh, Izzy, an' I feel so guilty because. . . when I think of us breaking up, I don't feel as sad as I should be." She patted his arm when he laughed to himself. "Did I just call you Izzy?" She smiled and nodded. "I'm sorry; it just slipped."
"Don't be," she assured, "I think it's cute." She playfully pinched his cheek and added, "Just like you."
Later on, after a long, hard day at school, Isabelle tiredly let herself into her house. She dropped her jacket and bag at the foot of the stairs and went into the kitchen to grab a soda, when she was startled by an unexpected guest sitting at the dining table.
"Dad!"
