The F- It List Part 8

I tried not to sound giddy at the thought of Leo knowing something about me.

"I saw you last year at the midnight showing of Evil Dead 2."

"You did?" I wanted to tell him that I saw him, too, but that felt too eager.

"Yep" was all he said.

--1 "What's your favorite?" I asked.

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"Horror movie?" he checked.

"Yeah. Your absolute favorite. Which one?"

"Is it too obvious to say Evil Dead 2?" He seemed less confi dent when I talked to him than when he stood around looking menacing and mysterious. I didn't know if I liked the vulnerability on him. Just like I hated it on me.

"Not boring, but maybe a little predictable. Still, a n.o.ble choice.

Did you hear Bruce Campbell-"

"Is going to be at the Orpheum for Army of Darkness. I know. I'm stoked. Do you want to go?" I thought it was kind of a date until he added, "My friend Brian was supposed to go with me, but he's going out of town now. So I've got an extra ticket."

This wasn't quite how my fantasies went, but I'd take it. Horror movies were always more fun with someone else. And I didn't think Becca would make it. Would she be b.u.mmed that I was going out and she wasn't? Or would she want every detail of what it was like being near Leo? I wondered if there was a horror movie out there where someone gets killed by their own guilt.

"When is it?" I asked as if I didn't already know.

"Friday at seven. It's okay if you're busy. Just thought I'd ask."

Aren't we casual?

"I planned on going, so sure. Yeah."

"Good," he replied.

We lay on our backs quietly for a couple of silent minutes, until Leo asked, "So what's yours?"

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"Your favorite."

-1- "Oh yeah. I like Dead Alive. I think it's funnier than Evil Dead 0- without trying as hard. Maybe it's the New Zealand accents."

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"That's a good one. The lawn mower scene is killer."

"So good," I agreed.

Several more minutes of silence rolled by with the clouds. I didn't mind. Leo's presence, the outdoor air, even the cigarette smoke was calming. I found a whale in the clouds, a sailboat, an evil clown.

The gra.s.s rustled, and I saw Leo rolled over on his side. I did the same and faced him. I marveled at being this close to him, fi nding freckles on his nose, watching the way the sunlight made his red eye- lashes almost transparent. Then out of nowhere he kissed me. It was a hard kiss, a quick one. Then he pulled back and took a drag off his cigarette, turning his head to blow the smoke away from my face.

"Why'd you do that?" I asked, hiding the smile and desire that seeped from every pore in my body.

"You looked like you wanted me to," he explained, then took another drag.

"What does that mean?" I asked, annoyed. "Was I pursing my lips? Were my t.i.ts glowing? What?" He actually laughed loudly at that one. "I'm glad my glowing t.i.ts amuse you," I told him.

"They sound very amusing. Mind if I take a look?" he joked. I think.

"Only if you show me your b.a.l.l.s of fi re," I deadpanned.

He fell onto his back again and looked up at the pa.s.sing clouds.

The sun was starting to set. Summer was defi nitely over. My dad was gone. My best friend had cancer. And there I was, sharing cigarettes with the boy of my sick and twisted dreams.

That kiss made me feel lit up like his cigarette. Did he want me to kiss him again? Or was that a pity kiss? Was I someone worth pity?

How would he even know if I was or not?

--1 I was tired of thinking, so I propped myself up on my elbow and -0 -+1

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looked down at his mouth. Did it want to be kissed, too? There was only one way to fi nd out, and I went for it. That time the kiss was longer, stronger, and wetter. I fell onto him, not worried at all about my insignifi cant weight on his substantial chest. He wrapped his hands around my back, then moved down until he squeezed my b.u.t.t. It felt so good and comforting, I would have been willing to take all of my clothes off right then and there. In that moment, I understood every reason Becca did what she did last summer with Davis.

And then my phone rang. My mom's ringtone. Quite possibly the least s.e.xy ringtone I could have asked for, not that I would have asked for any.

I jerked away from Leo to answer. "Hi, Mom. Just driving around. Yeah, I can come home now. See you soon.

"I have to go." I turned to Leo, who perched himself up on his elbow.

"Yeah, okay."

I looked around to fi nd my car key and stood up. Leo remained in his reclined position while he pulled his cigarettes out of his jacket again.

"So, I guess I'll see you in school," I said. My mind had moved on to what would transpire when I got home, having to tell my mom about Becca.

"Yep." He lit his next cigarette and returned to his back.

Confused but preoccupied, I left him in the gra.s.s and drove toward home as though what had just happened was as imaginary as a clown in the clouds.

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CHAPTER.

9.

When I arrived home, the house was in a much more chaotic condition than when I had left. AJ and CJ marked their presence everywhere, from their cleats strewn across the doormat to the clots of dirt that made a trail to the bas.e.m.e.nt, where they played an incred- ibly loud video game. Their stench was also noticeable.

My mom was in the kitchen unpacking some Target bags. "Hi, Mom," I greeted her.

"Hi, honey. How was your day?" she asked as she added to her collection of overpriced hand soaps under the sink.

"It was okay. I guess." Since my dad's death, I hated to burden my mom with anything heavy. But if I didn't tell her about Becca and she somehow found out, then we'd have a blow- up argument about how I don't confi de in her anymore. That already happened over the summer when I hadn't told her about me and Becca's friends.h.i.+p hia- tus. "Not really, actually. Can I tell you something?"

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my need for undivided attention by taking a soap pump out of her hands.

"Honey, what is it?" She sounded concerned, if not exhausted.

Mom was a few inches taller than me, which I appreciated for its momness. I looked up at her eyes, dark brown like mine, and said, "I found out today that Becca has cancer."

"Oh, sweetheart. Oh." Mom engulfed me in her arms. I wished she hadn't. I choked, and tears started streaming down my face. By the time I was fi nished, my mom's shoulder was covered in tears and snot. She put her hands on my shoulders after subtly wiping tears from her own eyes. "Do you know anything more? What kind? What stage?"

It seemed ironic, using the word "stage" for cancer and Becca. I knew it wasn't the same meaning, but Becca loved the stage. What- ever stage of cancer she had, I hoped it was a good one. "Hodgkin's lymphoma. I don't know what stage."

"Hodgkin's. That's a good one to have, if there is a good one.

Your uncle Alan had it and beat it. Becca's strong like you. She'll beat it, too."

"I hope," I sniff ed. "We cut her hair off today."

"That glorious hair. It'll grow back. You know that already. You know so much already." Mom looked at me sadly, and I knew she was referring to my dad.

I didn't want her to get on that morose path, so I said, "She starts chemo tomorrow. I'm going to send her a message to wish her luck."

"You're a good friend." She tried to smile. "I'm so sorry, honey."