Before The Boys Say No Part 3

Jared was going to be leaving for several days to attend a rodeo in Arkansas with his family. That left one day for me to try to polish some rough edges before I presented him to the debate squad at the beginning of the school.

I drove to his house to spend the day with him because he had ch.o.r.es that had to get done before leaving for Arkansas. I'd have to work around his schedule. No problem. I pulled up at an old farm house about an hour out of town. The road there was so full of potholes that I bounced up and down in my car the whole way. At one point, my car started sputtering so I gave it gas and raced through the holes to get to his house. I was out in the middle of nowhere and walking at seven in the morning wasn't on my agenda.

Two boys about five years old stepped out on the porch to watch me drive up. They were identical twins wearing large T-s.h.i.+rts as pajamas with skinny legs sticking out below. It was obvious they had just got out of bed with their hair sticking up and the way they rubbed their eyes.

A pack of dogs came running to my car, barking and jumping at me. One of the boys yelled to them but they didn't pay attention. It wasn't until Jared's mom stepped out on the porch and yelled that they left me alone.

I tentatively stepped out of the Beetle, and plop, right into dog poo. Mega gross! I ran to a patch of gra.s.s and started stubbing my tennis show on it. It took several minutes before I felt I had it wiped off. All the while, Jared's mom and brothers watched silently from the house.

"I'm Beatrice," I yelled to his mom.

"Well, come on in," she yelled back and pushed the boys into the house.

I grabbed my portable file cabinets from my car. My pride and joy. The large, mobile filing cabinets housed all my debate research. I had them meticulously organized and labeled so I could pull out articles and research at will during debates. They were also on wheels with handles to make it easier to move from one tournament to another. I pulled the files up the gravel driveway and into the house. A little help would have been nice.

It was dark inside the house. Jared's mom was making noise inside the kitchen so I poked my head in. The twins were sitting at the table watching her mix something in a large bowl at the counter.

"Did Jared tell you I was coming over today?" I asked her.

"Oh, yes," she answered, not turning around.

"Are you Jared's girlfriend?" one of the twins asked.

"No," I said shortly. "He's my debate partner."

"You gonna help him be a lawyer?" his mom asked.

I wasn't sure how to respond. This was high school debate, for crying out loud. I decided to change the subject so I wouldn't have to answer.

"Smells good in here. What are you cooking?"

She bought it. "Oh, I've got some biscuits in the oven and some gravy on the stove. Getting ready to whip up some eggs. You gonna have breakfast with us?"

"I was hoping Jared and I would be able to get started early," I said. "I have to be at work this afternoon."

"You can't expect him to work on an empty stomach," she retorted. "He's out milking the cows right now. You can wait for him in the living room."

I went into the dark room and sat on an old sofa. The cus.h.i.+on sank under me, reminding me that eating biscuits and gravy was probably going to add a few more pounds if I gave in and ate it.

The twins came into the room and squeezed together in the recliner across from me. I gave them a small smile but they just looked at me, not saying a word. I leaned back against the sofa and yawned. I had gotten up way before normal and was hoping to get a really early start. After several long minutes of silence, I could feel my eyes starting to get heavy. I yawned and stretched, trying to stay alert. Pretty soon, I could feel my eyelids dropping, so I gave in.

It's not that I fell asleep, at least I didn't think I had until I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder shaking me.

"Wake up. You're snoring."

It was Jared's dad. He looked like an exact older replica of Jared. I felt embarra.s.sed and tried to get up from the sofa, but somehow I had gotten stuck inside the cus.h.i.+ons. He grabbed me and gave my arm a hard yank. That freed me, but I felt like he had dislocated my shoulder in the process.

Jared was behind his dad, carrying two buckets of milk. "Hey, Beatrice," he mumbled and crossed in front of me to go into the kitchen. Jared's dad followed him without another word.

I looked over at the recliner where the twins were still sitting. They had their eyes fixed on me. I gave them another small smile, but they still didn't say anything. It was kind of creepy. I turned and walked into the kitchen to escape them.

Jared's mom had the table set and filled with food. I groaned inside. It was worse than Italian food. Everything had been made from lard or b.u.t.ter. I took the chair she pointed to when she saw me. I had to eat, and I knew it would taste good. That was the problem.

Jared's dad said a quick blessing over the food and then they all just started helping themselves to the feast set out. I took a biscuit and some eggs and waited for them to start eating.

"Don't wait for us, sister," Jared's dad said as he poured gravy all over the biscuits, eggs and hash browns he had piled on his plate.

I took a small bite and chewed slowly. All of a sudden, a big scoop of hash browns were flung onto my plate, followed by a spoonful of fresh cow's b.u.t.ter. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, Jared's mom poured a ladle of gravy all over the food on my plate.

"You can't be shy in our house," Jared's dad bellowed. "Nancy, get her a gla.s.s of that fresh cow's milk."

I tentatively sipped at the gla.s.s in front of me. It was still warm and frothy. I really had my doubts about the bacteria that might be in the milk, but they were gulping it down like ravenous wolves.

Jared's dad looked at me and frowned. "You're among family here, Beatrice. Don't feel like you have to be shy. You just dig in. A big girl like you--I can tell you like to eat food."

I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks and took a deep breath. All I had to do was get through the meal. It was time to take matters into my own hands. I grabbed my fork and started shoveling food into my mouth, gulping a big mouthful of milk at the same time. Within two minutes, I was using the last bite of my biscuit to wipe up the gravy. I looked up at the shocked eyes in front of me and gave them a grand finale. I opened my mouth and let out a loud, slow burp. Served them right with that big girl comment.

"Okay, Jared, let's get going on this. I have to be back in time for work this afternoon. You want to be a lawyer, you can't be lazy."

His family didn't know what to say. They looked at each other, speechless. Jared dutifully rose from his chair with his plate of food and followed me into the living room. I think I scared him.

I pulled out files while he sat on the recliner to eat. He watched me without a word, chewing each bite of food and picking at his teeth. I couldn't look at him. Something about people digging at their teeth grossed me out.

"I have several new strategies that I've written out for arguments. I've put them in the folder here," I motioned to one of the filing cabinets. "It has your name on it."

"Okay," he said.

"I thought we could go over these to make sure you understand it all. I'll ask you questions like I'm the other team."

"I thought you were on my team," he said, confused.

"I am on your team, Jared. We're going to pretend like I'm on the other team so you'll get used to questions being asked you."

He nodded and took the stack of papers I placed in his hands. I had typed out the arguments on crisp white paper, so when his greasy fingers grabbed them, I couldn't hide the gasp that escaped my lips.

"Sorry," he muttered and stuck his fingers in his mouth, making loud sucking noises to clean them.

This was going to be a long day. I could tell already. And it was. Jared stumbled over the arguments I had prepared for him. He didn't understand what some of the definitions of many of the words were. Beatrice to the rescue. I kind of figured he'd have that problem, so I was prepared. I pulled out a list of words with their definitions and handed them to him. He studied it for a long time then handed it back to me.

"Doesn't make sense for me to say these big words when I can just use those from the definitions. They make more sense."

"We've gone over this before, Jared. The big words will help us look more intelligent--more like lawyers."

"It just sounds like I'm trying too hard," he mumbled.

"Yes," I said. "Yes. We want to appear like we're trying hard."

He shrugged. "You're the boss."

He was right in the middle of delivering--or should I say, reading--one of the prepared arguments when his parents and brothers came into the living room. They went to the sofa and took a seat to watch us. Jared looked at them and grinned self-consciously.

"So what are you arguing about Jared?" his mom asked.

"Gun control," he said with a big smile.

"That's right up your alley," his dad replied. "You're gonna do great, son."

Jared resumed reading my argument and received a standing ovation from his family when he finished. He laughed and gave a clumsy bow.

"You sound real smart," his dad said proudly. "You write that all by yourself?"

The little weasel nodded his head. He was trying to take credit for all my hard work! I was about to open my mouth and set the record straight when I caught Jared's eyes. He was silently begging me not to tell them the truth. I felt sorry for the skinny guy. He was trying to make his family proud. I closed my mouth and stepped back to allow him to receive the accolades.

As if that wasn't bad enough, his family stayed the whole time. They even had the audacity to offer me suggestions on my delivery when I read over my strategy with Jared. I bit my tongue to stay quiet. Hard enough to taste blood on my tongue.

Whenever I started trying to coach Jared, his father would shush me and tell me to let Jared do it on his own. That only made Jared panic. He grabbed my filing cabinet nearest him and started pulling out the evidence I had so neatly filed. I tried to grab them out of his hand, but he just went for more, pulling out articles and showing them to his parents, making up some kind of nonsense about the information to try to seem impressive.

I'm all for impressing. Believe me, I work hard to impress the debate judges. But I draw the line at anyone touching my beloved files. They were now a disaster. I yelled at Jared to get his greasy fingers off them.

"You need to learn some manners, young lady, if you're going to be part of this family," Jared's father said quietly from the sofa.

I couldn't even look at them as I let his words sink in. Then it hit me. For some reason, they all thought Jared and I were dating. I looked over at Jared. His face was beet red, turning his pimples into a shade of purple. He had led them to believe I was going out with him.

My hands were shaking as I gathered the files and pieces of paper and note cards in my hands. I rammed them into the filing cabinet without a word. With a firm snap, I closed the lid and turned to face Jared.

"I will meet you in the debate room on Tuesday at two o'clock," I said angrily.

I couldn't even say goodbye to his family. I grabbed the two filing cabinets and stormed to the door, awkwardly tugging them behind me. No one came out to see me off. My time had been wasted at Jared's house. I was done earlier than I had antic.i.p.ated.

Angrily, I started my car, hitting the steering wheel as it sputtered. I pressed on the gas and backed out, the Beetle shaking in response. Back down the road I drove, growing angrier with each pothole. I was about twenty minutes from the restaurant when my car sputtered to a stop. The engine had died. It wasn't responding to anything.

I pulled myself out of the car and looked around. No one was in sight. I'd have to walk to work. No way was I leaving my debate files in the car for someone to steal. I pulled them out and started walking. A few cars pa.s.sed, but I kept my eyes focused on the road in front of me. I got a few honks, and I think I heard a truck full of guys yell "moo" to me, but I ignored everyone.

By the time I got to work, I was dripping with sweat and my arms were burning from lugging the filing cabinets all the way. I was sure I had a sunburn because my skin felt flushed. My brother looked at me and laughed when I came through the door.

Dean's plan to go to college were stopped a couple of weeks ago. My father had started having chest pains and the doctor ordered him to rest and take it easy in the restaurant. The restaurant is my father's life, so it felt like a death sentence to be told he had to restrict his time there. Dad is so dramatic.

Dean didn't really want to go to college, anyway. He was happy to drop out and continue working at the restaurant. I have to admit, he really impressed me. He jumped right in and took control of the kitchen. Even Dad was impressed.

"Don't say a word," I threatened and parked my debate files behind the register. I could hear Dean laughing as I made my way past the few customers to the bathroom.

I could only stare at the mess I saw in the mirror. My mascara had run a black streak down my face. I even had a few drops of it smeared on my s.h.i.+rt. Any other time I would have been mortified to see my bra showing through my T-s.h.i.+rt. Right now, that was the least of my worries. The bright pink splotches covering every exposed inch of white skin was blaring out at me. I had a sunburn all right, and it didn't look one bit attractive.

I turned on the cold water in the sink and dunked my head under the faucet. The coldness shocked me at first, then felt soothing on my skin. I heard a customer open the door, but they quickly shut it without coming in. I'm sure the sight of my big b.u.t.t sticking out had something to do with it.

I scrubbed at my face with a wad of paper towels. The mascara finally came off, but the scrubbing only made my skin look redder. So much for making fun of Jared's red face. That only seemed to bite me back in the b.u.t.t.

I didn't have a change of clothes, so I'd have to try to hide my sweat behind an ap.r.o.n. The paper towels soaked up most of the water dripping from my hair. I ran my fingers through the frizzy mess and turned on the hand dryer to stick my head under.

"Honey, you okay?" came Aunt Roma's voice from the door. She had poked her head in to check on me.

I gave her a weak thumbs up and turned my head to the other side in a desperate attempt to dry it.

"Here's an ap.r.o.n," she yelled over the dryer. "Try to finish quickly so you don't scare any more customers."

I didn't respond. The dryer was starting to get hot, so I raised up. Aunt Roma had closed the door so I was alone again. I resisted the urge to cry. Even a ponytail I tried tying in my hair wasn't hiding the frizz. My skin looked like a freshly peeled tomato. How was I going to face the public? I couldn't ask Aunt Roma to cover for me. She had plans to go out with my mom. It was supposed to be a slow evening, so all I could do was pray that no kids from school came in.

Then I remembered Brody worked tonight. He was working less hours because football practice demanded a lot of his time. The other players seemed to cram themselves into the restaurant right before closing, forcing us to stay open later.

I really enjoyed the times I got to speak with Brody when it was quiet. He was, surprisingly, really intelligent. He had spent last summer in Italy and fallen in love with the culture there. I was shocked to learn that he really wanted to be a chef. He listened attentively to my father and Dean as they showed him how to cook.

We were both supposed to close on our own tonight. I dreaded him seeing me more than anyone else. I had been working for a couple hours when he came in. I could tell he was tired by his eyes. He didn't even have a reaction to my appearance. He kept stretching and yawning all night to try to stay alert. I avoided Brody all night. At the end of the evening, Dean left us to close so he could go on a late date.

It was almost midnight by the time I got the tables wiped down and the floor mopped. My sunburn was killing me and all I could think about was slathering myself with aloe vera gel. I heard Brody in the kitchen and figured he was cleaning it. Out of the blue, he came out of the kitchen carrying a pizza tray.

"Before you say no," he said, setting the tray down on a table, "I want you to try my masterpiece. At least one piece before you leave."

I couldn't believe it. He had made a pizza for us, even as tired as was. I pushed the mop bucket to the side and wiped my hands on my ap.r.o.n. The smell drew me to the pizza. It was loaded with veggies. I raised my brows at Brody.

"What makes it a masterpiece?"

"Try it," he grinned. He placed two plates on the table and extended his arm for me to join him.

I slid into a chair and carefully lifted one of the hot pieces. Brody's eyes were on me the whole time, waiting to see my reaction. I raised the pizza to my mouth and sank my teeth into the yummy, cheesy, veggie goodness. It was scrumptious.

"What did you put on this?" I asked after I swallowed the large bite.

He could tell I loved it. He smiled. "I made some pesto and mixed it with the pizza sauce."

"Wow. This is really good."

He grabbed a slice and started digging in too. It was nice to share the pizza with him. I polished off the first piece and didn't hesitate to grab another one.

"That's what I like about you, Bea. You like to eat."

Uh, wrong thing to say to a big girl. My appet.i.te left me. I plopped the pizza onto the plate. Brody paused with a bite in his mouth, looking quizzically at me. He swallowed quickly.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"I know I'm big, Brody. I just don't like to draw attention to it."

His eyes widened. "I didn't mean anything by what I said, Bea. And you're not big."

"Yes, I am. I know it."

He carefully placed his pizza on his plate and grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth. "You know, Bea. When I was in Italy, I went into the museums and they were full of these old Italian paintings. You know what I noticed? All the women in the paintings were real, you know. They had--" he paused, trying to pick his words carefully. "They had full figures and looked like girls should look."

I snorted and crossed my arms. "What are you trying to say, Brody?"