Highly Illogical Behavior - John Corey Whaley Page 0,20

arm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to act like that.”

“Do you need to tell me something, Clark? Is there something I’m doing wrong?” she asked, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“No. No, not at all. Look, it’s just . . . I can’t wait to do this with you. But I told you I’m not ready. And I’m trying not to let the embarrassment kill me.”

She sat up, letting the pillow fall to one side. It looked like he’d been crying, or close to it anyway. She’d never made him cry before, never even seen it. She’d seen her stepdad cry though. It was something her mom had a strange talent for—turning a fight into a shame-fest that always ended with Ron getting emotional. Lisa didn’t remind herself of her mother very often, so this made her squirm and sent a sharp pain shooting through her stomach.

“Clark . . . I . . .” she said with a sad smile. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

She leaned forward to hug him, and he let his forehead rest on her shoulder. He was breathing so hard. She let the tip of her nose touch his and then she closed her eyes.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“Ancient meditation ritual,” she whispered. “Repeat after me.”

“Okay,” he whispered back.

“Lisa is the only thing that matters,” she said in an almost chant. “Lisa is my life. She is queen of all that is good.”

“You say this to yourself?” he asked, holding in a laugh.

“Self-esteem is very important.”

“Let’s take a nap,” Clark said, holding her tightly. “The queen must rest.”

• • •

She wasn’t sure how long they’d been asleep, but it was definitely dark out and Clark’s family was definitely home. She could hear his mom’s voice downstairs, probably talking to Drew.

“Clark,” she whispered. “Wake up.”

“What time is it?” he asked.

She got her phone off the bedside table, and the light from the screen nearly blinded them both. Seven thirteen p.m.

“Shit,” she said. “Your mom. Get up. Shit shit shit.”

“It’s okay. Maybe she’s not home yet.”

“I can hear her. Now get up and help me sneak out.”

“She doesn’t care,” he said. “I promise.”

Out of all the times Lisa had come over after school like this, she’d never stayed long enough to see Patty Robbins home from work. She’d always just assumed that they’d both get into big trouble if they were caught upstairs in his room with the door shut. His mom was a churchgoer, after all, and Lisa figured teenage sex wasn’t high on her list of Jesus-approved activities.

“Oh my God.” She walked over to the window, looking down into the backyard.

“Your car’s out front, Lisa,” he said. “She already knows you’re here anyway.”

“Shit.”

She gave him a blank stare and started putting her socks and shoes on. Then she tied her hair up and tried to compose herself.

“This is so embarrassing,” she said. “What do we do?”

“MOM!” Clark shouted.

“What the hell?” Lisa whispered.

She could feel her cheeks turning a warm red. A few seconds later, Patty Robbins poked her head through the door. “Yeah, hon?”

“Lisa’s here. We took a nap.”

“Oh. Hi, Lisa. Great. Stay for dinner?”

“S . . . sure,” she managed.

“Taco Thursday!” she said loudly, vanishing from sight.

“I told her it’s supposed to be Taco Tuesday, but she won’t listen,” Clark said.

Lisa took a seat on the bed and started laughing.

“I was so scared,” she said, slapping Clark on the arm.

“We work under complete transparency here.”

“What do you mean?”

“She trusts me,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders.

And why wouldn’t she? He’s had his girlfriend in his bedroom alone countless times now and had, every single time, failed to seal the deal. Lisa shook her head and looked at him. He was too nice to be mad at, which sometimes drove her absolutely insane. But not tonight. She didn’t want to fight. She just wanted to have dinner with his nice little normal family.

Lisa stayed for a while after, watching TV with Clark and Drew and wondering how late she’d have to stay out to avoid running into her mother again. Around eleven o’clock, she decided she’d better head home, so Clark walked her out to her car.

“So, movie this Saturday? Something scary?” he asked, leaning down outside of her car window.

“Oh,” she said. “Umm . . . I sort of have plans, actually.”

“Plans? What kind of plans?”

“Solomon,” she said with her teeth clenched.

“Solomon . . .” he said slowly.

“Seriously? Are you upset because I . . .”

“I’m just . . . I guess I’m not really sure