Which leads me to this: why am I sitting in a car with Jake Benson? Does he have some secret motive? Does he think I’m not capable of watching Drake? He can’t actually like me, can he? I mean, if my own mother doesn’t like me, how can he?
My inn
er conversation came to a halt when Jake’s black Mustang pulled to a stop at the empty park. We
got out and made our way over to the basketball court so that Drake’s car could run on a smooth surface.
Seeing Drake bubbling with excitement brought a smile to my face. If he liked me, perhaps I wasn't so horrible and disgusting. There was no time to dwell on the matter. Drake placed his car on the cement and started driving it around. I leaned against the rusty pole holding up the goal and watched. “Did you see that, Emily? It was on two wheels!”
“I sure did. That was really cool, Drake.” I tried to sound excited, but I just couldn’t. My mind was too flustered. Drake didn’t seem to notice though. I tried to ignore the tall, handsome Jake standing beside me, watching Drake.
His hands were tucked into his pockets and he was quiet. Unusual, if you thought about it. He was always talking, always asking questions that I didn’t want to answer. The wind blew causing a clinking noise to float over my ears. I looked to the side of the courts a little ways, and saw a swing set.
That’s what I needed. I needed movement. I started to walk across the court, narrowly missing getting my foot ran over by Drake who was laughing hysterically, and sat down in one of two swings. To my dismay, Jake followed. I began to motion myself back and forth, swaying. I took my arms around the back of the chains to the front, which allowed me to stuff my hands in my jacket pockets locking myself into place.
“Something wrong, Emily?” Jake’s deep voice asked.
I shook my head, hoping that would settle the issue. However, I should have known. Jake wouldn’t be satisfied until I started talking. He reached over and grabbed one of the chains, holding my swing and pulling me towards him.
Once I was close enough, he tugged the other chain to make me face him. My legs knocked into his as he did this. I looked down at our knees. I could feel the heat radiating from his legs to mine. “Look at me.”
I couldn’t do it. I was scared of what I might see when I did. That one thing kept me from looking people in the eye. I didn’t want to see their disgust and hate for me. I couldn’t stand to see one more person look at me the way my mother did. I wouldn’t look. I wouldn’t.
Jake wrapped his legs around mine to hold me in place and let go of one of the chains. He curled his fingers under my chin and lifted so I would have to look at him. No! I didn’t want to look. I closed my eyes before I could see his.
I heard him sigh. “Emily, c’mon and open your eyes.” I didn’t budge. His voice was softer when he spoke again. “C’mon, Emily. Just open them. What are you so afraid of?” The heat from his legs and his hand was getting to me because, before I could stop myself, I told him the truth.
“Seeing the hatred and disgust.”
“Jake! Emily! Did you guys just see that?” Drake’s happy voice squealed. Jake slowly let go of me and, when I opened my eyes, I saw he was making his way over to Drake.
The soft breeze carried his voice over to where I was. “No, buddy. Do it again so I can see.” Drake, not seeing or caring that I wasn’t there, repeated the trick.
What the hell was that? Did I really just say that? I closed my eyes and leaned back. From my knees to my head, I was lying flat, while my legs dangled. With my eyes still closed, I just let the breeze move the swing for me. Jake stayed on the court with Drake, while he showed him all the flips and crashes he could do.
Great. Just great. I had just told a complete stranger my innermost secret. What was wrong with me? Well, besides the obvious. After this, I wasn’t going to be within two hundred feet of Jake if I could help it. Would he go back to school and tell everyone that I was a freak and dumb and what not?
I shoved the thoughts out of my mind. My arms ached and I had to sit up. I was lightheaded for a moment and then it was gone. Drake was running full speed to the empty swing. “Jake, come push me!” Jake obeyed and soon Drake’s attitude rubbed off on me. I was pumping my legs and swinging, enjoying the sound of Drake’s laughter.
“All right, little boy. You can do it yourself for a while. My arms are tired,” Jake said.
Drake tried to turn around in his swing to see Jake, but failed in the attempt. “’Little boy!’ I’m not a boy! I’m a man! Tell him Emily!”
The determination on Drake’s face was clear and I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s right, Jake. Drake is a man, not a boy.”
Jake laughed, “If you say so.”
A triumphant expression overtook Drake’s face as he said, “Told ya! I’m a man, not some little boy.” The tension between Jake and me seemed to disappear with Drake around.
We had been swinging for about half an hour when Drake skidded to a stop. “I’m hungry.”
“What do you want to eat?” I asked.
Drake pondered in thought, but Jake was the one who answered. “I could really go for some Chick-Fil-A.”
“That’s all the way in Wilmington, a forty-five minute drive, if you go the speed limit,” I pointed out.
Jake smirked at me and said, “I don’t mind. Do you Drake?”