Gotcha Page 10

  Joel looks puzzled. “Okay, but what’s that got to do with trusting me?”

  “I can’t trust anyone if I’m going to win. Haven’t you ever watched Survivor?”

  Joel laughs so hard and loud that the old couple at the booth across from us turn their heads and glare at him.

  “So why do you need the money so bad?” he asks, whispering sheepishly, his eyes shining again.

  “So I can go to college next year.”

  “There’s always scholarships, and student loans. And you have a job.” He’s stopped whispering, but his voice is low.

  “But you never know for sure whether you’re going to win the scholarships or get the loans. The Gotcha money would be a sure thing. It would at least get me started. And I’ve really got to move out of my house.”

  His eyes soften a little. “What’s happening at home?”

  I have no intention of telling him anything. It’s none of his business. But my mouth opens and more words just burble out. “My dad left us, and my mom makes me crazy.”

  “Oh.” He looks surprised. “I think your mom is sweet.”

  “No. You think she makes good cookies.”

  “That too.” He smiles.

  My God, he has a beautiful smile. I have to take a deep breath.

  “Anyway,” he says, “winning works for me. We work together, and if we win we split the money fifty-fifty.”

  “When we win,” I tell him. “Not if.”

  “Of course. When.” The laugh lines deepen again.

  “That’s what Paige wanted me to do,” I tell him. “Team up with her and split the winnings, but I wouldn’t.”

  “I wouldn’t team up with Paige either. She hasn’t proven herself worthy. But c’mon, Katie, I’m good. We can do this.”

  “You’re good?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good at what?”

  “Well, I’m still in the game, for one thing.”

  “So is Paige.”

  “Okay, so that wasn’t a great example.” He takes a sip of his water while he thinks about it. He sits up straighter. “Don’t forget, Katie, that I stuck with you at that stupid Gotcha party. I wouldn’t have released your arm for anything, even if they had promised me bead immunity.”

  “Bead immunity?” Now it’s my turn to laugh. I can feel the old people glaring at me. “Omigod, Joel. Don’t let me forget to put that one in the Gotcha game manual.”

  “I won’t.” He turns to the elderly couple. “I’ll make her settle down,” he assures them. “She tends to get a little carried away.” Then he turns to me and puts his fingers to his lips. With my good foot, I kick him under the table. He just smiles in return.

  The waitress slides two plates onto the table and we eat quietly for a moment. The old couple lose interest in us and go back to their own meals.

  I consider the idea of sharing the names of our victims. Would he really be able to help me?

  “Why would you pair up with me, Joel? These crutches seriously cramp my style. You’d be better off with just about anyone else.”

  Joel doesn’t answer for a few seconds. When he does, he looks directly at me. “Because it would be fun. And it would give us a chance to hang out together more.”

  Did he really just say what I think I just heard? I know it’s not a confession of undying love, but I’m struck dumb anyway. Why would a guy like Joel want to hang with me? I look down at my plate and concentrate on stabbing a French fry with my fork. The mood at our table has flipped 180 degrees with just those few words. I hope my face isn’t as red as it feels.

  “Sorry, Katie,” he says, putting his burger down and wiping his hands on a napkin. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  I glance back up and see that he’s blushing too. I go back to concentrating on my French fries.

  “It’s just that we always have fun together,” he says.

  I know what I should say. I know what I want to say. But the words just won’t come out. Why is it so much easier for me to say hurtful things than nice things?

  “Forget I brought it up,” he says and goes back to eating his hamburger.

  I keep on stabbing French fries, but I don’t bring them to my mouth. I realize I’ve done it again. I’ve pushed him away, and for no good reason. What is the matter with me?

  The silence that follows is awkward. I rack my brain for something I can talk about, something to ask him, but my mind is blank. A few minutes ago, words were just tumbling out of my mouth. Now there’s nothing. Where did they all go? Joel finishes his burger and pushes his plate away. We watch as the old couple in the booth across the way struggle out of their seats and shuffle to the door.

  The waitress comes to remove our plates and asks if we want any dessert. Joel says no thanks and looks to me for my answer. Our eyes meet and I see that he’s trying to mask whatever it is he’s feeling. There are no laugh lines visible now. I shake my head at the waitress and she leaves. The silence at our table is a roar in my ears.

  “Have you got a pen?” I ask Joel.

  “Huh?”

  “A pen.”

  He shakes his head, but the waitress is back with our bill. “Can I borrow your pen for a minute?” I ask her.

  She yanks one out of her apron and drops it on the table beside the bill.

  I pick it up and pull a napkin out of the dispenser on the table. I tear a corner off the napkin and jot a name on it. Then I fold the scrap of napkin four times. I push it across the table to Joel.

  His eyebrows arch. “What’s this?” he asks.

  “The name of my victim,” I tell him.

  “And you’re giving it to me because...?”

  “Because I want us to be a team.”

  “Are you sure?” He looks like he’s afraid to believe it.

  “I’m sure.”

  He just stares at the scrap. I reach over, pick it up and push it into his palm. Using both hands, I close his fingers around it. “Read it,” I tell him. “I want you to.” I push his hand away.

  He opens his hand, stares at the note for a moment and then places it, still folded, on the table. The next thing I know, he’s reached across the table for my hands and encloses them with both of his. “Did I pressure you into this, Katie? I know I can be overenthusiastic—that’s how we got into trouble at the party. We don’t have to share names if you don’t want to. I’m okay with that. Honest.”

  My hands feel so small in his large ones, but warm and protected too. I can only look back at him and nod.

  “You’re sure.”

  “I am,” I laugh. “Totally sure. I don’t know why I didn’t say so in the first place. I think I was just...nervous. I’m not used to...”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “C’mon. What were you going to say?”

  “Guys. Guy friends. I don’t have many.” There. The truth is on the table.

  “Why not?” He looks genuinely surprised.

  “I don’t know. Paige says I scare them off.”

  Joel throws his head back and laughs again. It’s a good thing the old people have left. The noise of it might have given them heart attacks. I figure it’s a compliment, in a warped sort of way.

  Joel grabs the pen and rips off his own scrap of napkin. He writes something on it, folds it up and pushes it across the table to me. “That’s the name of my victim,” he says.

  I smile. “So, what do we do? Say, one, two, three, open?”

  “Might as well,” Joel says.

  “Okay then.” We each put a scrap directly in front of us. “One...two...hang on!” I say, just as Joel is reaching for the one I passed him.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “What if you just scribbled some nonsense on yours, and I gave you the real thing?”

  “Would I do that?” He acts totally offended. “I don’t know, Joel. Maybe you would. How well do I really know you?”

  He regards me seriously. “About as well as I know you. M
aybe you just scribbled something on yours to drag a name out of me. Maybe someone has bribed you to set me up. What do any of us know for sure?”

  His eyes are in full-laugh mode.

  “Ohmigod. If you’ve tricked me, Mr. Keister...you will never...”

  “I will never what?” he challenges.

  “You will never...” I have no idea what to threaten him with. “You will never win, I’ll make damn sure of that!”

  “One, two, three, open!” he says. I grab the scrap of paper and unfold it quickly. I read the name he has written on it. Our eyes meet. Joel grins, but I have to look away. Suddenly everything becomes crystal clear, and my heart sinks completely.

  Nine

  “I can’t help you with this,” I tell Joel and push the scrap of paper back across the table. My eyes are burning, but I can’t let him see that.

  “Why not?”

  Because you’re an ass and you’re only using me to get to her and I can’t believe I actually thought there was something else going on here.

  “Because she’s my friend,” I tell him, deciding there’s no need to spell out the obvious. “I can’t set up my best friend.”

  “But it’s just a game, Katie, remember?”

  “Maybe, but I know for sure that Paige would never again be my friend if I helped you tag her.”

  “Did she act like your friend at Tyson’s party?”

  “No. But...”

  “But what?”

  “That was different.”

  “How?”

  “She didn’t actually set up the mobbing. It wasn’t intentional. She just didn’t stop it once it started.” Why am I getting into this argument with him? It’s all irrelevant now anyway.

  “It seems about the same to me.”

  I shrug and dig through my purse, looking for my wallet so I can get money to pay for my dinner.

  “And I’m going to help you get Warren,” Joel says. “You might as well start counting out the Gotcha cash now, half for you, half for me.”

  I guess it’s the way he’s talking, like he thinks I can’t figure out why he’s hooked up with me, but it all becomes too much and finally I snap. “You must think I’m a real idiot, Joel. I don’t know why I didn’t figure it out before now.”

  Joel looks genuinely puzzled. He’d make a fine actor.

  “You never knew I existed until Gotcha started,” I tell him, “and then suddenly you’re my best buddy. I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out.”

  “Figure what out?”

  I stare at him. Is he serious? “That you have the name of one of my friends!”

  Joel slumps back in the booth, another good acting job. This time he’s portraying bewilderment. “You think that’s what’s happening here?” he asks.

  “Well, duh,” I tell him and slap my money on the table. I slide across the bench and reach for my crutches, but Joel beats me to them. He snatches them up and holds them out of my reach.

  “I thought we understood each other,” he says.

  “Oh yeah, I understand you now,” I say, swinging my arm out to grab back the crutches.

  “You’ve got it all wrong,” Joel says, still holding them behind him.

  “Right.” I stare him down. “You expect me to believe that you haven’t befriended me strictly to get Paige’s bead?”

  “No I have not,” he says, looking directly back at me. Gone are any trace of laugh lines, and he looks steamed.

  “You’ve got to admit,” I say. “It looks pretty suspicious.”

  He nods. “I guess it does. But it never occurred to me that you’d think I was using you to get to Paige. It is just a coincidence for me that I’ve become...acquainted with my victim’s friend.”

  He looks so sincere, and I feel myself begin to soften, but then I realize how stupid that would be. I force myself to see past the sparkling eyes, the dazzling smile, the easygoing attitude. “You said yourself that you can’t trust anyone in this game,” I remind him. “And that it is ‘just’ a game. And that anything goes. So what am I supposed to think?”

  Joel runs a hand through his hair, thinking. “Sit down, Katie,” he says, motioning to the bench.

  I do, and he lays the crutches back down. I can see from the corner of my eye that the waitress is watching us. She’s probably wishing we’d leave so she can lock the place up.

  “You never showed any interest in being my friend until Gotcha began,” I say.

  “That’s true. We didn’t know each other. But that night you came to rescue Paige from Elijah’s house, well, it reminded me of the crush I’d had on you when we were little kids.”

  “Right.”

  “And I kept thinking about you,” he says, ignoring my sarcasm. He speaks softly, earnestly. “So I decided to ask you to Tyson’s party, just because I wanted to hang together, not because of Gotcha or Paige.”

  How I wish I could believe him.

  “Hey,” he says, suddenly looking up. “Did I look one bit concerned when I heard you’d had a fight with Paige?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Well if this had been about me using you to get to Paige, that would have been a serious problem for me. But I didn’t care. And we did have fun at that party until...”

  “Whatever, Joel,” I say. “I still can’t help you tag Paige. That would be a definite friendship-ender.” Not that I really care at the moment, but still. I have principles.

  We sit in awkward silence. Joel’s finger taps the edge of his glass. “I’m going to prove to you that I didn’t befriend you just to get Paige’s bead,” he says finally, leaning into the table.

  “And how are you going to do that?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure yet,” he says. “But I’m working on it.”

  I can sense that he’s studying my face, but I can’t make eye contact with him. Suddenly he stands up, leans right across the table and kisses me, softly. I should push him away, or lean back where he can’t reach me, but I don’t.

  I hear the waitress clear her throat. Joel must have heard her too, because he sits back on his bench. “Is that proof enough?” he asks.

  “It proves nothing,” I tell him. Except that his lips felt wonderful on mine, warm, soft, even if it was such a brief connection.

  “Well then, I guess I have to help you tag Warren first.”

  I nod. My cheeks are burning.

  “He’s got quite a few beads, by the way.”

  “Really?” I should care, but somehow I don’t. I only care that I’ve just been kissed, by Joel.

  Joel leans forward and whispers, “You look especially pretty when you’re blushing.”

  I groan and roll my eyes, but I can feel my face turning redder still. He yanks his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans and digs through it for some money. “You know, Katie, I’d drop out of the game right now if it would make you believe that I’m not using you to win the game.”

  “Warren won’t let you drop out,” I remind him.

  “Oh yeah,” he says. “Good.” He places his money on the table and grins. “Because it’s just becoming interesting.”

  The kiss we share when we get back to my house is a little longer and warmer still, but I don’t linger too long. I’m still wary of him. And so is my mom.

  “Where have you been?” she demands as I hobble into the house.

  “Out. I left a note on the counter.”

  “Just saying you’re going ‘out’ is not good enough, Katie,” she says. “I had no way of knowing where you were, what you were up to, who you were with. I was worried.”

  How stupid is that! I’ll be gone, living on my own, in a few months. Her worrying is coming a few years too late. “I was out doing drugs and having unprotected sex,” I snap back.

  “Katie!” she says.

  “Oh c’mon, Mom. You know me better than that. I was with Joel, discussing strategy for the Gotcha game. No big deal.”

  “Necking with a boy in the driveway, where all the neighbors c
an see you, is not discussing strategy.”

  “You were spying on me!”

  “No, I just happened to look out the window, much like all the neighbors were probably doing.”

  “I can’t believe this.” I have never given her one moment of worry in all my high school years, and suddenly I’m a slut for getting a good-night kiss. Grad and college can’t come soon enough.

  I hobble past her and to the computer. I can feel her eyes on my back.

  “There’s nothing to worry about, Mom.”

  She sighs. “Just use some discretion in the future, Katie. Good night.” I hear her trudge up the stairs. For one guilty second I wonder if she’s lonely without Dad. But then I decide I don’t care.

  I check the group page on Facebook and, sure enough, Warren does have six beads. Bonus. The game appears to be down to forty-eight players. I count up the girls who are still left playing. Only ten. I was right. The boys have been playing harder for some reason. That’s got to change.

  I know I have to get back to school, and I’d really like to be at the grade twelve meeting tomorrow afternoon. I consider my options. I could phone Paige and ask how she’s been getting to school and whether she’ll go with me. But I really don’t want to do that. Especially now.

  And then there’s Dad. He’s still driving a car and doesn’t appear to have anywhere to go during the day. Maybe he could behave like a father and get me to school.

  From: kittiekat17@hotmail.com

  To: dannyo56@hotmail.com

  Subject: getting 2 school

  hi dad, n e chance u could pick me up tm morning & drive me 2 school? It’s 2 far 2 go on crutches, but im getting really far behind. i could use a ride home 2.

  thnks,

  Katie

  I plunk myself in front of the TV for an hour, giving Dad a chance to respond, but he doesn’t. I finally go to bed and try to think of something besides Joel, but it’s hopeless. The kiss is still too fresh in my mind. I toss and turn for hours.

  I check my e-mail for a message from Dad in the morning. Still nothing. I’m going to have to phone Paige or stay home again. I stare at the phone and decide to go for it. Somehow I’m in the mood to take chances.