Part 4 (1/2)

He leaned in to me earnestly. ”I'm saying that you're the real deal. You're like the women in those paintings. You're a piece of art.”

That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me. Seriously. Especially the way I looked right then. I felt my eyes tearing up. I tried to stop them, but I couldn't. The tears ran down my cheeks. I grabbed a napkin and swiped at them, wincing at the roughness on my burned skin.

”You are so nice, Brody.”

”I mean it, Bea. Don't let people make you feel less than you are. Between the two of us, they're the ones with the problem. I mean, they've gotta be real insecure if they have to try to make other people feel bad.”

I couldn't believe I was hearing those words from Brody. That's what Lanie and her friends did all the time. But they had nothing to be insecure about. I wondered if he was including them when he said that.

”Thanks, Brody,” I whispered. I really needed to blow my nose, but that would not be pretty.

He grinned and picked up his pizza. ”Come on. Eat with me.”

I laughed and grabbed my slice. ”How come you want to be a chef?” I asked in between bites.

He pushed the rest of his pizza in his mouth and reached for a third slice. ”I've always loved cooking. Of course, my dad couldn't stand it. I would rather bake a cake than go play football. Don't go telling anyone that.”

I shook my head and reached for my third slice. I was starting to feel full, but the pizza was so good and it was nice to have a chance to talk with Brody without interruptions.

”Anyway,” he continued, ”I got the chance to spend the summer in Italy. I spent most of my time begging the chefs to let me watch them. You know when you just have this feeling inside about something--it's just so right for you?”

I nodded. ”That's how I feel about debate.”

”Yeah. Well, that's when I decided I was going to be a chef, too. Of course, I can't tell my parents. My dad wants me to play football and my mom--she just wants me to be successful. Status means a lot to them. They're part of the country club and all that.”

”Just tell them how you feel,” I said softly.

He shook his head. ”It's not like it is in your family, Bea. You don't know how lucky you are to be able to share your feelings with your parents.”

”Yeah? Well, a lot of good it's done. They're still determined to find me a husband. After all, that's what good Italian girls do--get married and have babies.”

Brody laughed. I loved the way the light hit his blue eyes and made them sparkle. I was going to cherish this time with him. I knew I wouldn't have another chance to be alone with him once school started.

He wiped his mouth and sighed. ”I'm full.”

I put the rest of my pizza back on the plate. Our time together was done. I slowly stood with him and grabbed the pizza pan from the table. He still had the kitchen to clean. It was so late, but I followed him back and started wiping the counters and putting away food and spices while he scrubbed the grill.

It was past one in the morning before I locked the restaurant doors. Brody gave me a small hug and walked me to my car. Just like that, we said goodnight and went our separate ways. I felt like I was floating on a cloud for the rest of the week. Too bad that feeling couldn't last forever.

CHAPTER 4.

If there's anything I truly detest, it's being late. That's how I started the first day of my senior year. My alarm did not go off. Don't ask me why. I checked it three times before I went to bed. I had exactly twenty-four minutes to make it to my first cla.s.s.

I jumped up with a cry and made a mad dash to the bathroom. It was locked. I heard my mom's voice humming in the shower. I couldn't believe it. She knew I had to get ready. Dad was singing down the hall so I knew he was using his bathroom.

I rushed back to my room and started pulling on my clothes. Mom and Marge had taken me out shopping for school clothes. They tried to push me into some tight fitting s.h.i.+rts, insisting I show off my figure, but I refused. I wanted to hide my b.o.o.bs, not accentuate them. I settled on some loose fitting tops and jeans. What I really enjoyed was shopping for debate clothes. I found the most intimidating suits I could and matched blouses with them. This was my final year in debate and I was going out with a bang. Of course, Mom and Marge didn't enjoy suit shopping at all. Especially when I threw out all their advice to show a little cleavage and wear something softer.

”But you'll scare the boys away in those suits,” Mom protested.

”That's the point, Mom. I want to scare the boys and the girls.”

Mom also took me to Kitty, her hair dresser. I loved my trim and the way I walked out of there with silky, s.h.i.+ny locks. Of course, no way could I do that on my own. I don't care how many hair products Kitty insisted I needed, I just couldn't do my own hair.

I looked at the clock, feeling panic setting in. My yellow s.h.i.+rt looked about as good as I was going to find for the first day of school. I pulled on a pair of jeans that hung slightly over my hips. That was the problem with my body shape. The pants fits tight in the hips and really loose in the waist. To avoid highlighting the size of my hips, I had to just bear with the loose waist jeans.

I brushed out my hair. It was fizzy as usual. I squirted some of the leave in conditioner on it that Kitty had persuaded me to buy. It did help a little. A dash of mascara and lipgloss and that was all I had time for. My skin still had splotchy dry spots where it had peeled off. I'd just have to deal with it.

”You all ready?” Mom asked from the doorway. ”I turned off your alarm so you could catch a little more sleep.”

”Mom,” I yelled. ”You turned off my alarm? I'm freaking out here. I'm going to be late for school.”

”Well, honey, I heard you up late last night and knew you needed your beauty rest for the big day. Besides, you were snoring pretty loud when I came to check on you earlier.”

I just shook my head and scrambled to grab my school items. ”Where's my other shoe?”

Mom walked into the room and pulled up some discarded shoes. There was the other sandal. She handed it to me with a rueful smile. I couldn't be mad at her for long. She was always trying to help me.

”Bye,” I yelled and ran out of the house. I had twelve minutes to get to school. We only lived a couple minutes away, but I knew traffic was going to be heavy. Dad had gotten my car fixed and I appreciated the lack of shaking I had put up with before.

I arrived at school with almost every other senior. It seemed we were all running late. The only difference was that it bothered me. They seemed to enjoy sauntering in late and getting attention.

I found a parking spot and darted to my first cla.s.s. English. I was so excited to be in Ms. McEnroy's cla.s.s. She was hard, but fair. I slid into a seat just as the first bell rang. Half the cla.s.s was still missing. Ms. McEnroy made small talk with us as other students filed in to fill the desks.

My breath caught in my throat when Brody appeared. He didn't see me and was forced to take a seat at the front of the room. I wondered why he was so late. He had already made friends with a lot of the kids over the summer, so he seemed right at home in the school.

I forced my attention to Ms. McEnroy as she went over her expectations for the cla.s.s and gave us a copy of the syllabus. And just like that, I was back in school. Only this was senior year.

I floated from cla.s.s to cla.s.s, waving to kids that I hadn't seen all summer. Johanna caught up with me in between cla.s.ses. She looked cute in her khakis and silky blouse. It had yellow daisies all over it which suited her.

She grabbed my elbow excitedly. ”Dale Jerry just asked me to Homecoming. Can you believe that? On the first day of school.”

I tried to swallow my jealousy. It's not that I wasn't happy for Johanna; it's just that I knew I wouldn't have a date. And it was my senior year.

”That's great,” I said with a forced smile.

She could read me. She knew I was faking it and why. ”I could ask him if he has a friend so we can double date,” she offered.

”Don't be crazy,” I said. ”Besides, I'm going to be so busy with debate.”

”How's your new partner?”

”He's--he's really getting it,” I said. ”Look, I need to run. Debate's next and I don't want to be late.”

”Sure,” Johanna replied. ”Want to meet at lunch?”

”Yeah,” I yelled over my shoulder as I rushed to debate cla.s.s. Jared was already at the door, waiting on me. He was wearing jeans and a green T-s.h.i.+rt with boots. Standard Aggie uniform. He proudly flashed a large silver belt buckle at me.