Gimme Everything You Got - Iva-Marie Palmer Page 0,15
dad. Tina says she loves him, but their relationship seems like so much work, not only with being long distance but also because it’s a secret. Tina’s afraid to tell her mom about Todd, because he’s kind of artsy and wants to skip college to go save the environment or something, and Tina’s mom had her fill of artistic do-gooders with Tina’s dad, her first husband. But Tina’s totally into Todd, and he does write her letters and gets her clothes from the store where he works. So that’s something.
“Guys like this make me realize how good I have it,” she continued, ignoring how every boy at the party seemed to be staring at her.
“Totally,” I agreed, like I had a clue what having it good with a guy was like. We wove through the crush of people in the humid basement. A few of them were dancing, and on an armchair in the corner, most of Becky Logan’s underwear was visible where her skirt had ridden up as she made out with some guy I didn’t recognize. Two guys got up from a couch, and Tina and I plopped into their empty seats with our drinks.
Dan O’Keefe, our host, who was okay, came up to us. “Having fun, ladies?” He was already drunk, but in a Dan way, which just made him act like someone’s dad. “Help yourself to some chips. My mom went to the Jewel earlier.” He gestured to the table like a woman on The Price Is Right showing off a prize showcase, and I grabbed a handful of chips to show his generosity was appreciated. Dan pointed at me. “Oh, Susan, remember Michael from the summer? He asked about you. I told him he should say hi.”
“Michael?” Tina said, elbowing me. “You mean Michael Webster?”
I’d seen Michael at a few parties of Dan’s in the past. Over the summer, Michael had poured me a beer and we’d made some good eye contact, and I’d been interested enough to ask Dan if Michael had a girlfriend. Dan had told me he’d find out, but then Michael had left with his friends before we even got a chance to talk. I looked past Dan to see Michael standing by a bookcase filled with Dan’s dad’s bowling trophies. Michael Webster was no Bobby McMann, but he was still cute. Cuter than anyone at Powell Park High, at least. He went to St. Mark’s and had light, shaggy hair and dark brown eyes. He was wearing his black-and-gold jacket covered in varsity patches and holding a beer.
He looked over and saw Dan, who nodded some kind of signal and walked away. Then Michael came over, all six-foot-two of him.
“Hey,” he said to me, sitting down on the arm of the couch so he kind of loomed over me and Tina. “Good party, right?”
“It’s okay,” Tina and I said at the same time.
“O’Keefe said another keg is coming. It’ll get better.” Michael moved to sit on the couch and I scooted over. His leg was touching mine.
“He’s kind of hot,” Tina whispered to me, pinching me lightly on the arm. I shot her a look.
“You two go to Powell Park?” he said.
“Yeah, we’re juniors.” As I said it, I realized his arm was already around me. It felt heavy, but kind of nice, and his fingertips touched lightly where my sleeve met my skin. I looked into his eyes and he smiled with one side of his mouth. If this had happened in the summer, I might have passed out, but now I could only think that he was Not Bobby. Michael was suddenly as exciting as the teddy bear I practiced kissing in my room, even if he had real boy parts.
“I’m at St. Mark’s,” he said. “I play football. Maybe you should come to a practice.”
I liked the idea of him asking, but I also liked the reality of not being able to say yes. “I just made the soccer team,” I said. “So I can’t.”
He settled his arm deeper into the nook between my shoulder and my neck and gently tugged me closer. “Soccer, huh?” he said, as he brushed his fingertips lightly over my collarbone. “That’s kinda cute. But they don’t make girls practice every day, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he leaned in toward me, his face hovering in front of mine. He had Bobby-ish lips, full and soft. He wanted to kiss me. A real guy, a good-looking one, who might