I adjusted my hat and looked over my sunglasses. It was three fifty-nine, and I didn't see Owen anywhere. I wasn't really disguised, I just didn't want anyone I knew to recognize me with Owen before I could hide behind something. Owen was big enough. I could probably hide behind him. I had been here for fifteen minutes, and the cold metal of the bench was starting to chill me.
"What are you doing?" I wiped around. Owen was standing behind me with a pick nick basket in one hand, and his car keys in the other. Damn, the only direction I didn't look! "I like the hat, but the sunglasses are a little bit much. If you just didn't want to be seen with me, you shouldn't have showed up."
"I'm a woman of my word. I said I would be here, so I'm here," I replied. "What's in the basket?" A camera? A handgun? Jell-O?
"Pft, why should I tell you? It's my basket. Anyway, we won't be here for long. Come on, let's go," said Owen. He turned to walk the other way, towards the parking lot.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," I said, standing up and crossing my arms over my chest.
"Well, I don't think it would be good for either of us to be seen together. This place is crawling with Degrassi Geeks," said Owen. To reinforce this, he pointed behind me. Conner and K.C. were throwing the football around. How could I miss them? Maybe because I was looking for Owen. "Come one, let's just take a ride."
"I'm not getting in your car," I said.
"Why not? Is poor little Clare-bear scared?" Owen taunted.
"I'm not scared," I said. I walked around the bench and followed Owen out to the parking lot. I stayed a pace or two behind him, knowing this was a mistake. I wasn't going to let this dumbass get the better of me. Not now, not ever.
Owen drove a black four-door Ford truck with tinted windows. It was like him- big and obnoxious. He opened my door for me, but Owen's pseudo-chivalry didn't impress me. I knew he wasn't actually polite. Owen drove out of the parking lot and out into a rough road. Owen's large tires rode over the road's bumps like they were new asphalt.
"Like the ride?" he asked. Actually, I did like the ride. The inside was new, and clean and stylish, even though it was a huge gas guzzler.
"It's nice," I said coldly. I pulled my hat and sunglasses off and tossed them in the backseat.
He reached out and pressed a button under the radio. "Seat warmers," he said. I can't say that the heated seats weren't pleasant, since I had been sitting on a cold metal bench.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"That depends. When's your curfew, little girl? Eight thirty?" he chuckled. I told my mom that I was working on a school project with a friend, and that she shouldn't wait up. She's going out with Glen for a late, romantic dinner tonight, so I knew she wouldn't worry about me getting home. Hell, she would probably prefer if I stayed out all night.
"Ten," I said. I almost conceded to eight thirty, but admitting he was right would bother me more than spending time with him. Going home at ten meant I wouldn't have to spend more than four hours with this creep, but he would have enough time with me to get this whole sick, stupid attraction for me out of his system. "And my mom is very strict about it."
"That's fine by me. I have to be home by one, so I'll have time to pick up my second date after I drop you off," said Owen. I leaned back and closed my eyes. Was it strange to be comfortable with Owen so close to me? Well, I had a long day. I wrote two essays, finished a PowerPoint, and helped Adam with his math homework. And, I antagonized over my stupid date with stupid Owen.
My seat was warm, and there was soft music thrumming through the speakers. Owen's truck had a smooth ride. That would make anyone feel comfortable.
"Where are we going?" I crooned. I cursed myself right after. It's hard to sound cold and detached when you're just so comfortable.
"Comfortable?" Owen smiled smugly.
"Shut up," I said.
"I was going to take you to my secret place," said Owen.
"Your secret place?" I asked. That didn't sound good. I was in date rape territory.
"Yeah, my secret place. It's this club house me and my dad made when I was little," Owen pulled off of the highway and on to a residential road.
"Where is your clubhouse?" I asked.
"It was in our old backyard, but we moved and the house got torn down." Clubhouse? That didn't sound very dangerous. As long as I had cell phone service, I shouldn't worry. But, I was dealing with Owen. The same Owen that threw one of my best friends into a glass door for no reason. Bully Owen.
"Why?" I asked.
"Why what?" asked Owen.
"Why did the house get torn down?" After having Owen live there, I can't blame anyone for tearing it down.
"Foundation problems, and the wiring was bad. The house started to sink when I was really little, and we couldn't open the windows anymore. Right after Tristan was born the brick cracked because the foundation was settling. Dad said it was the last straw, and we moved away. Then next tenant sued the landlord because there was an electrical fire. A developer bought the land from the landlord, since he was broke after the lawsuit, but the developers went under, so I think the city owns the land now." Owen knew about probate law? I was surprised at how articulate he was, too. I had expected more of a gorilla.
I sat back and didn't say anything for a while. Then, I started worrying about being alone with Owen again. He noticed when he saw me biting at my nails. "Chill out," laughed Owen. "If I wanted to hurt you, I would have already done it. It wouldn't be hard. You don't look like you could run away."
"What makes you think that?" I asked, looking down at myself. I didn't look unhealthy, did I?
"I've seen what you eat for lunch. Doughnuts does not a meal make," said Owen condescendingly. He was right. I loved doughnuts, but that wasn't any of his business.
"Have you been stalking me?" I asked.
"You're not that irresistible, little girl," said Owen. He turned again into a wooded area. "My little brother sits at the table behind you."
"Yeah, after you wouldn't let him sit at yours," I said.
"I didn't do that, my friends did."
"You're guilty be default," I said. He looked angry, and didn't reply for a minute.
"I'm not a bad brother." He said in a tone that suggested finality. I didn't push him anymore. The subject made me think of my own sister, Darcy, who had been back from Africa for months, but I hadn't seen her. She felt betrayed. I don't know if it was because Mom and Dad got divorced, or because Mom and Glen got married.
Owen turned one last time on to the old remnants of an asphalt driveway. I saw a little rubble of what used to be the house piled off to one side. The plot was grown up, but so were all the other ones around it. There was a 'for sale' sign sticking in the tall grass, where someone from the road could barely see it. Owen drove off of the driveway and a little further, into where the back yard must have been. Then, the woods took over.
"We're here," he said.
"I don't see a club house," I said. He got out of the car and walked around to my side to open the door. I didn't know how much I missed having a boy do that for me, but I reminded myself that this was Owen, and he wasn't actually nice.
"We have to walk a little. The truck might get stuck," he said. I stayed behind him a few steps, so I would have a head start if I needed to run away. I hadn't had good experiences in the woods before. We followed a little path about a hundred feet deeper into the woods. I didn't see the club house until I had almost passed it up. It was built right behind a big oak tree, almost like it had been hidden.
"Here it is," said Owen. He opened the makeshift plywood door. "Watch your head."
The club house was child sized. I couldn't stand up straight when I got inside. There was a little window cut out of the side, with a kebab stick frame but no glass. I sat near the door. Owen crawled in and sat down across from me. He opened the pick nick basket he brought and laid out a little yellow blanket. "I didn't know what you actually like to eat, since all I ever see you scarf down is junk food," said Owen. "So, I tried to cover all the basics." He pulled out two hamburgers, a little container of chocolate pudding, a container of fresh fruit cut in little squares, some Twinkies, and two sodas.
"Where'd this feast come from?" I asked sarcastically.
"My kitchen," said Owen.
"Oh, so you're a chief?" I joked.
"Of course. I'm also a doctor."
"Really?" I said as I reached for a soda and a hamburger.
"Yes. I'm an amateur gynecologist," he said. I couldn't help but laugh. I usually didn't like asshole humor, but Owen's was . . . dare I say, cute? No, I don't dare say, because it wasn't. Ever. Couldn't be.
"Got any ketchup?" I asked.
"Can't have a burger without it," he said. He reached into the basket and pulled out some packages. "Want mustard?"
"No thanks. I like to take it one condiment at a time," I replied.
"That's no way to live, little girl," said Owen. "Life has to have some verity. Sometimes," he poured both a packet of ketchup and mustard on his hamburger patty. "You've got to live dangerously."
"Extra mustard is very dangerous," I scoffed.
"It starts with little steps," said Owen.
"Little steps," I repeated.
We finished our hamburgers in comfortable silence. Next came dessert. He handed me a plastic spoon from the basket. "Do you want the fruit or the pudding, or the Twinkies?" asked Owen.
"Pudding," I said.
"But I want the pudding," said Owen.
"Too bad, big boy," I said. I lunged for the pudding, but Owen was quicker.
"How 'bout we share?" asked Owen. He crawled over and sat next to me. Right next to me. Our arms were touching. I shifted a few inches away from him.
"How 'bout no?" I grabbed for the pudding. Owen jerked it away and planted his little plastic spoon in it. Then, I sighed and went for the fruit. I was not going to share pudding with Owen. That would mean I was actually consenting to having fun with the baboon sitting next to me, instead of just proving him wrong. And was I ever. I wasn't scared anymore at all. Perhaps it was the parochial setting, or the full feeling in my stomach, but I was more than comfortable.
"Now I want the fruit," said Owen. He reached for my fruit, but I wouldn't give it to him.
"No. Eat a Twinkie," I said, pointing my spoon at the two forgotten pastries.
"I don't like Twinkies," he said.
"Neither do I," I said.
"Then give me some of the fruit," said Owen.
"Only for the pudding," I replied.
"No. I want the pudding too," said Owen. "And I'm not going to stop until I get it. Who do you think is stronger, little Edwards?"
"I am," I said.
"Are you really that deluded?" he laughed.
"Maybe," I said.
"Look, we both know you can't defend your fruit," he said. I shivered, taking that in a perverse manner. "So, be a good girl and share with me." I looked down at the fruit. Then, at the pudding. Was it worth my sense of self-respect? Well, I could share. I might get sick for sharing food with a gorilla, but I would never have to do it again. I only needed to give Owen one date to prove that I wasn't scared of him. Besides, pudding was always worth more than dignity. Everyone knew that.
I rolled my eyes. "Fine, but if you give me herpes-"
"Hey, I don't kiss as many girls as you kiss boys."
"Not true," I said. I didn't think Owen was that cute, but other girls did. Surly he's kissed more people than me.
"Alright, let's crunch the numbers. I've kissed four girls." That couldn't be right- or could it? I hadn't ever seen him with any girls, except for Anya last year. I never really liked Anya. Not because of her personality, but of the vacant face she always wore when I saw her in class.
"You've got to count guys too, big boy."
"I'm not a fag, little girl. Your turn."
I took a second to think. K.C. made one, and then, although I don't like to count him, Wesley, -I started counting on my fingers- Declan defiantly didn't count, Eli, of course, then Jake, then Liam, then Jake, then Eli. So, all together that's . . . Five. Shit. And, I couldn't take it back. I already had my stupid fingers out.
I sighed angrily and took a big bite of the pudding. "Shut up," I said with a full mouth. He reached over with is spoon and took a bite of fruit.
"I always win," he said.
He scooted closer to me. "So we can share better."
"Sure," I said sarcastically. "Owen, this food is actually," I cursed myself for saying it. "Good."
"Well, thank you," said Owen. "There are a few things I can do right, Edwards."
"Just a few," I said. Just like the burgers, we finished our dessert in a comfortable silence. Both of us watched the evening turn to night out of the little window. I should have been chiding Owen about something. I looked for something- anything. I couldn't complain about the food, or the atmosphere. Owen wasn't making me feel uncomfortable, or like I was going to be molested. Even the view out of the little window was nice. The only thing I didn't like was the temperature.
"I'm cold," I said.
"You're wearing a coat," he said as he packed our pick nick back in the basket. He tossed the Twinkies out of the little window.
"So? I'm still cold," I said.
"Fine," he said. I almost did a double take when he unzipped his jacket and held it out to me. "If I get pneumonia, I'm blaming you." I tilted my head at him. "Here, take it." He shook it at me. "I don't have fleas," he said. I rolled my eyes.
"I didn't say you did," I said. I took his jacket and put it on over my own coat. "Thanks," I said begrudgingly. Owen made his way past me and to the door. Was it Owen or his jacket that smelt so good? I sniffed the collar. It was the jacket. But, the jacket probably smelt like Owen.
No. I told myself. Owen does not smell good, and he's not appealing. Owen was a vain homophobe with a bad attitude.
"Let's go. It's starting to get chilly." I followed him out, and back to his truck. He tossed the basket in the back and started the engine. Once I got warm, I took off Owen's coat, even though I didn't want to. It was comfortable.