I loved the rush of the wind in my face as the motorcycle flew down the road. The freedom was exhilarating, but I obeyed the speed limit and took the long way to the mall. I needed time to think.
Dean must have been totally wasted to kiss me. What had possessed him to drink so much? I didn't know whether to be irate or worried.
I pondered what Dean meant by 'I'm not your little brother anymore.' Did he mean he wasn't little or he wasn't my brother? Normally, I would ask Melaney to help me resolve this enigma, but now I debated whether or not to tell her. She had already been hurt by him. How would she feel about Dean being the first boy to kiss me?
I wanted to slap Dean. Again. This wasn't the first time he stole something precious from me. My mind flashed back in time, almost seven years ago.
* * *
I was ten, and Dean was nine and a half. He was the first of many foster kids who came and went from our home. He arrived on our doorstep the fall of fifth grade and stayed for over five years while his mother was in jail for stealing money from her boss.
Since I missed my daddy so much, I should had known how lonely Dean felt, being separated from his mother, his only living relative. But instead of understanding, I resented him for invading my privacy. I wanted to be left alone, and he wanted company. He followed me everywhere from breakfast to bedtime. If I escaped to Melaney's house to get away from him, he would steal things out of my room, like mother like son.
One day about a month after Dean came to live with us, he picked the lock on my jewelry box, leafed through my mini scrapbook, filled with newspaper articles about the Price family, and took my Sleigh Ride CD, the same one that had played during the car crash. When I returned home and noticed the jewelry box was out of place and my favorite CD was missing, I was furious and frightened. Did Dean also discover my obsession with Tyler Price?
I found him outside, kneeling on the lawn, in the process of inflating his bike tires.
"Where is it?" I shouted.
"Where is what?" he asked with a slight smirk.
I bent over and slapped him in the face with all my might. He fell sideways and knocked over the bike.
"Give me my CD back or else!" I threatened.
"Or else what?" he growled. "You're going to hit me again?"
He glared at me from the ground. He had four, finger-sized welts on his cheek.
"Violence never solved any problems," he mocked, repeating the lecture that Jonathan had given him for fighting at school. He sat up and crossed his arms. "Listen, Sister. Let's compromise. You share your stuff with me, and I won't tell your parents you slapped me."
What other choice did I have? If he tattled, I would be grounded for eternity, and he would still keep stealing my stuff.
"Fine, but my jewelry box is off limits."
"Agreed," he said, holding out his hand.
I shook his hand and then helped him to his feet. He detached the hose from the tire, picked up his bike, and rode down the street.
At supper, The 'Rents questioned him about the bruise on his face. Dean told them he ran into a tree branch.
Later that night, he returned my CD and asked me why I had so many newspaper clippings about the Price family in my scrapbook.
I explained my intentions to marry Tyler Price someday and live in the huge mansion on Rose Hill. I made him swear not to tell anyone about my secret crush on Tyler.
Dean kept his promise and our agreement. He never stole anything out of my room again, and he never suspected the real reason for my obsession with Tyler. No one did. Not even Melaney.
* * * *
When I parked the motorcycle at the mall, I still hadn't decided if I should tell Melaney about Dean's kiss. I removed the leather outfit, folded it carefully, and stowed it in the cargo case. I placed the helmet on the seat and then hurried to meet Melaney and Megan outside of Fables Family Restaurant.
They walked toward me, both carrying two shopping bags, one in each hand.
"Did you leave any clothes for your friends to buy?" I asked Megan.
"Not many," Melaney grumbled.
"First impressions are very important in middle school. You never get another chance to make a good first impression," Megan proclaimed with her nose up in the air.
"I'll help you take the bags to the car," I offered, taking a bag from Melaney. We all headed toward the exit.
"Where's Dean?" Megan asked as we walked out the glass doors.
"At home with a headache," I disclosed.
"How did you get here?" Melaney inquired when we reached her car. She opened the trunk. We tossed all the bags inside.
"I borrowed Dean's vehicle," I replied with reluctance, expecting another speech about the dangers of motorcycles.
Melaney frowned and closed the trunk with a slam. If my mode of transportation upset her, how would she react to the news of Dean's drunken smooch? I decided to keep that unpleasant incident to myself, for now.
We walked back to Fables and waited in line to be seated. Fables was my favorite restaurant when I was a little girl. Illustrations of fairy tales-Cinderella, Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, etcetera-adorned the walls. Like always, I asked the hostess for the booth with the painting of Princess Jasmine and Aladdin flying on a magic carpet across a night sky filled with twinkling stars and exploding fireworks.
We slid into the booth, Melaney and Megan on one side, and me on the other. We looked over the menu while we waited for the waitress and then ordered our usual, sweet potato fries and chicken fingers with dipping sauces to share-sweet honey for Megan, original ranch for Melaney, and spicy barbecue for me.
The pout on Melaney's face revealed her objection to me driving Dean's motorcycle, but she wouldn't talk in front of Megan. It was too expensive. Megan knew about most of my secret visits to see Dean, and we paid her well to keep silent. I gave her ten dollars today for the trip to Dean's house. She probably had earned enough hush money over the years for a semester at Harvard.
While we ate our meal, I avoided the taboo topics of Dean and Tyler and chatted about our new classes at school and the upcoming fall activities with the youth group. I couldn't wait to attend the "Back to School Jam" by Skillet in September at the Watson Tabernacle, since my head injury prevented me from fully enjoying the concert at Picnic Creek Park.
Megan discussed the new movie, "Fanatic," that she and her best friend, Jennifer, would watch at the theater after our meal. Melaney would drop her off, and then Jennifer's mom would pick them up and take them to her house for a sleep over.
The movie was a comedy about a rock star who got kidnapped by a group of his fans. Of course, one of the girls had to fall in love with him, and many hilarious escapades ensued when she tried to help him escape.
"The rock star looks just like Dean, but I think Dean is cuter," Megan remarked.
"Please don't tell him that," I begged. "His ego is big enough already!" If they only knew.
When we finished our food and our plates were removed from the table, I asked the waitress for sparkling apple juice. After she filled our glasses, I lifted mine and made a toast, "To Megan's very first day at middle school, to our last first day at high school, and to only 180 school days 'til graduation!" We clinked our glasses together and drank in celebration.
Megan excused herself to visit the restroom, and Melaney finally was able to question me. "So whose idea was it for you to drive Dean's motorcycle?"
"All mine," I admitted, "although Dean did advise me to be unpredictable and fun."
"Because safe and careful is so boring and practical." She looked at me with the same worried expression she'd had at PCP after I hit my head, undoubtedly fearing my obsession with Tyler Price would get me killed.
"Don't worry. I'll be safe," I assured her. "I know how to drive a motorcycle. Remember the summer when your parents took us to visit Dean at his Mom's beach house? We rode dirt bikes then."
She nodded. "If your parents knew about all the dangerous escapades you've had with Dean, they would have a heart attack!"
"That's why we never told them. Thanks for covering for me tonight."
My overprotective parents forbade me from going out alone with a boy until I was eighteen, they had no clue of my plan for Melaney to watch the movie by herself while I had ice cream with Tyler.
She shrugged. "That's what best friends are for."
"I can't believe I'm actually going on a date with Tyler Price!" I whispered as Megan headed back to our booth.
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to The_Golden_Journal because Dean finds Jasmine's journal/ scrapbook. The contents of her journal will be significant in future chapters.
Video above is Crush by David Archuleta.
"Why do I keep running from the truth?
All I ever think about is you.
You got me hypnotized, mesmerized,
And I just got to know . . .
Am I crazy or falling in love?
Is it real, or just another crush?"
Do you have any guesses why Jasmine is so obsessed with Tyler? Let me know in the comments.
Forever Remember to Live, Laugh, and LOVE! - 3L