Scorched

Chapter Seven: It's Not a Date

JACKSON

I drove to work in an unusually good mood. Just being around Ray made me feel better, lighter somehow. I parked my car and hurried toward the employee’s entrance. I was always worried and preoccupied about what would happen to Katie while I worked. I knew there was a high probability that I would find her sitting in front of the TV, still wearing her backpack and waiting for someone to feed her. I prayed that Dan would be late again and leave her alone.

I slipped into the men’s locker room and pulled my uniform out of the locker. I yanked the ceil scrubs over top of my school clothes and shoved my things into my locker. I used to get a lot of razzing for being the youngest person on the team, but after a couple of months, they gave up. I wouldn’t let them get a rise out of me. I just kept my mouth closed and did the job. I didn’t care if it was cleaning up blood and gore or scrubbing toilets. All I wanted was my paycheck.

I was running the vacuum down the main corridor, past the gift shop. I let my eyes wander over the products on display in the glass windows. There were teddy bears, flowers, little statues and jewelry all artfully arranged. I was about to move on when my eye fell on a fancy pen in a long skinny box. Immediately, my mind jumped to Ray. I stopped the vacuum and coiled up the cord so that I could step inside the gift shop.

I nodded at the cashier and made my way to the display. I picked up the box, surprised at how heavy it was. The pen itself was silver and shiny and had the word “Inspiration” inscribed on the silver barrel. It came with three refills of ink. When I turned the box over, I nearly groaned at the price. Who the hell paid that much money for a pen?

I turned it back over and touched the pen with a fingertip in its velvet-lined case. A part of me knew I was getting way ahead of myself. But another part of me insisted that I needed to buy this special pen for Raymond. I carried it over to the cashier. At least I got an employee discount. I fished my debit card out of my wallet and handed it over. The elderly woman smiled at me as she swiped the card. “Would you like me to gift wrap that for you?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” I said, shoving my wallet back in my pocket. She pulled out some shiny blue foil wrapping and expertly wrapped the rectangular box. She finished it by wrapping a silver ribbon around it and tying it in a neat bow.

“There you go,” she slipped it into a bag and handed it over to me. “Is it for someone special?”

I couldn’t help the sloppy grin that broke my face as I took the bag. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” I didn’t elaborate more than that before I turned and left the gift shop.

RAYMOND

I had a text message from mom that she was going to be late tonight. That usually happens at least once a week, sometimes more. People would call out sick, and my mom would end up having to cover the shift. The house seemed extra empty without her. I dropped my backpack and went into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge doors, and then the cupboards, trying to decide what to make for dinner. I was trying to find anything to do that would distract me from thinking about the car ride home with Jackson. But of course, my mind went right back there like a yo-yo.

Why was Jackson being so nice to me all of a sudden? It wasn’t that he had ever been cruel to me or anything, but he’d basically ignored me since he joined school in the ninth grade. Now he was driving me home from school? True enough, my house was on his way to the hospital where he worked, but still... I was suspicious.

I felt my face growing hot all over again as I remembered how stupid I had acted in the car. Why couldn’t I be as smooth and cool as the characters I write? I slapped myself on the forehead when I remembered how I had tried to climb out of the car with the seatbelt still fastened. I could still feel his hand on my arm, the slightly rough feel of his palm, the caress of his fingers.

“It wasn’t a caress,” I lectured myself as I slammed a cutting board down on the counter with too much force. He just touched me, and it was nothing. He didn’t mean anything by it. It's not like he kissed me or anything.

And then my mind took off on a whole new tangent. What would I do if Jackson kissed me? I’ve never kissed anyone before, at least not on the lips, not in a romantic way. Jackson had soft-looking lips. Were they dry and warm when he kissed, or would he get sloppy and wet? The idea of swapping a lot of saliva kind of grossed me out. Did he use his tongue? Would he put his hands on my face?

Oh hell, I had it bad. I suddenly understood the meaning of a crush. I wavered between fascination at these new feelings, and embarrassment. I finished cooking dinner and served myself a plate. I wrapped the leftovers in foil for my mom and carried my plate upstairs to my room. I wasn’t supposed to eat in my room, but mom would never know, as long as I brought my dirty dishes out before she got home.

I flopped down on my bed on my stomach and picked up a novel I had been reading. I spooned food in my mouth and let the words on the page distract me from my loneliness and my raging teenaged hormones.

Two hours had gone by when I heard my phone buzz. I laid my book down and rubbed the crick in my neck before I reached for it. I expected something from my mom. Instead, I saw an unfamiliar number.

Unknown Number: Hey, what are you doing?

I didn’t know who it was, so I debated if I should answer it, or just delete it and block the number. Curiosity got the best of me.

Raymond: Just reading. Who is this?

Unknown Number: Jackson. Molly gave me your number, remember?

Oh s**t, how could I have forgotten that? I quickly saved the number to my contacts with his name.

Raymond: Oh right, I forgot.

Jackson: How could you forget me? After I gave you a ride home and everything!

Raymond: I thought you were at work?

Jackson: On my break. I was just thinking about you.

I stared at the screen of my phone. He was thinking about me? What did that mean? Did it mean anything? Was he being flirty, or was I just imagining it? I must be imagining it. My fingers were frozen over the keypad, I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t about to tell him that I’d been thinking about him too. Specifically, I’d been thinking about his lips, and kissing him. After waiting too long, I sent back my non-reply.

Raymond: Ok.

Jackson: What are you doing on Sunday?

I felt my heart rate speed up. Why was he asking?

Raymond: I don’t have any plans.

Jackson: I usually take my little sister to the park. You want to hang out with us?

I licked my lips nervously. It wasn’t like he was asking me on a date or anything. It was just an invitation to hang out at the park. Like friends. Jackson just wanted to be friends, for whatever reason I couldn’t quite fathom. Did I want to be friends with Jackson? Or did I just want to go back to staring at him across the room whenever I thought he wasn’t looking? Staring at him would be less embarrassing. But then I would miss the chance to get to know him better. Yeah, that’s what I told myself. I just wanted to get to know him, and making new friends was a good thing.

Raymond: Yeah sure, what time?

Jackson: We’ll pick you up around noon.

Raymond: Okay, great.

Jackson: Awesome. I gotta go back to work now. ttyl.”



I stared at the screen for a long time, but no more messages arrived. I shook my head and set it aside. “It's not a date,” I told myself firmly. “He’s just a friend.”