Part 15 (1/2)
”Sure I do.”
”Sure he does,” Bobby said.
I felt shy-Paul might think that my recurring dreams were stupid. I mean, who dreamed they were named Alice and lived in a psychiatric hospital? n.o.body sane, right?
”Just dreams,” I said, embarra.s.sed.
”Silly dreams,” Bobby said.
We were quiet for a little while, but I could feel Paul's eyes on me as I worked, which made it hard to concentrate.
”Bobby, do you want to go on a mission?” Paul finally asked.
Bobby perked up. ”I'm good at missions.”
”You think you could run to the house and bring back a drink?”
”I'll go to the house and bring back a drink,” Bobby said, pus.h.i.+ng himself to his feet. And then he was ambling off, consumed with his mission.
The thought that Paul had sent Bobby away so that we could be alone didn't occur to me until Bobby was already halfway across the back yard. One look at Paul's face and I knew that I was right.
”Can I ask you a question?”
”If you like,” I said.
”Have you ever kissed a boy?”
My face flushed and I glanced at the house, afraid that Mother was close. But we were still alone.
”We shouldn't talk about that,” I said.
”Randal has a girlfriend.” One of the other boys who I hadn't met. ”He likes Susan. He told me that they hold hands and kiss. His father doesn't mind. He says it's normal.”
”And maybe normal's not so good.”
”Maybe. Or maybe normal's okay.”
I knew I was defiling myself by not running away right then, but I didn't want to run away. So I kept working on Alice.
”What would Zeke say about that?” I asked.
”My father kissed a girl when he was fifteen. He knows that I'm growing up.”
”And what would he say if he knew you were talking this way to me?”
Paul didn't answer, but I suspected that Zeke would beat him silly if he knew he was trying to tempt me. We both knew that I was different from the other girls.
”I think you're very pretty,” he said.
By now my face had to be beet-red. Paul wasn't as sheltered as me, but I had a feeling he wasn't as experienced as he would like to be. I should have reprimanded him right then.
But I didn't.
”Thank you,” I said, embarra.s.sed.
”I like you.”
Liking was good, right? It was okay.
”I like you too, Paul.”
Like a brother, of course. But that's not what my heart was telling me. And my mind was telling me that I was going to h.e.l.l.
”Will you be my girlfriend?”
I stopped my fiddling on the doll and looked up at him. Then past him to see if anyone was coming. We were still alone.
”You know I can't do that!” I whispered.
”I know. So we don't have to tell anyone. Even our parents got married, you know. We aren't just kids anymore. And besides, I think you like me too.”
”Of course I like you. But not . . .”
”I can tell by the way you look at me.”
”Me? You're the one always looking! And you have to stop it.”
”Why?”
”Because!” I whispered. ”It makes me uncomfortable.”
”Why? Because you like me too?”
I couldn't just lie to him, so I hesitated, suddenly at a very uncomfortable loss.
”Eden!”
I jerked my head up and saw that Mother was rounding the house, walking our way.
”Here, Mother,” I called, waving a hand.
Paul spoke quickly, under his breath. ”Come to the field at four o'clock on Wednesday. I'll be there.”
I kept my eyes on Mother, heart pounding.
”I just want to talk to you. Wednesday at four o'clock, okay? In two days. I know four is your free hour before dinner. Just sneak out to talk to me.”
”It's getting late, sweetheart,” Mother called. It wasn't getting late-that was her way of ending whatever was going on. ”I think it's time for Paul to go home.”
”Don't forget,” he whispered. ”Four o'clock.”