Addicted

Jason glared at me, like he was registering the thought of actually letting me in the house when his parents weren’t home. “Aight, come on in,” he said, stepping aside. He must’ve wondered if I would go psycho on his ass and stab him with a butcher knife, because he emphatically added, “But as soon as we eat, you need to bounce, because I have a lot to do before the fair tomorrow.”

“Whatchu gotta do for the fair?” I quizzed, attempting to throw a little slang in there so I appeared cool.

He picked up the bags and headed to the kitchen. I closed the front door and followed him. “The basketball team is sponsoring some of the activities this year, and since I’m the captain, I have to help out.”

“Oh yeah? What type of activities?” He laid the bags on the counter, and I became enthralled with the tightness of his ass again. It looked ten times better up close than it did from the hole in the locker room.

He didn’t notice me staring because he was busy putting some eggs, bacon, and milk in the fridge. “We got this kissing booth going on, for one thang. I’m not really trying to do it, but you know how it is?”

“Kissing booth? Word?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know?”

“Nope.”

Jason gave me a puzzled look. “Hmm, I’m surprised, because Chandler and some of the other cheerleaders are doing it along with us.”

The mere mention of Chandler’s name made me cringe. Damn, why couldn’t that anorexic beanpole bitch move the hell on? I had even resorted to becoming a cheerleader to get next to Jason, but it just made him laugh. The other girls on the team were all buddy-buddy with Chandler and left me out of the loop except for the required activities. “No one said a thing to me. Then again, I’m not surprised, considering the fact Chandler hates my guts.”

Jason put some tap water in an aluminum saucepan and then turned on a gas burner. “Chandler doesn’t hate you. You’re trippin’. What makes you think that?”

He acted like it was some sort of revelation. Jason knew good and damn well Chandler couldn’t stand my ass. I don’t even know why he was trying to fake the funk. “Whatever, Jason,” I hissed. “So, are you and her still hanging out?”

He cut open the pack of Oscar Mayer hot dogs, dropped them in the boiling water, and then sat down across from me at the white drop-leaf table with floral place mats adorning it. “Why you wanna know? In fact, what’s up with all these questions tonight? You writing a book or sumptin’?”

I looked at him contritely. “No, I ain’t writing no damn book. I was just wondering because—”

“Because what?” He waylaid the rest of my sentence and it was just as well. I was about to do something dumb and ask him to go with me like he did me years before. I could hear his smart-aleck reply in my head: Go with you where?

“Never mind.” I decided to change the subject. “So how long are your parents gonna be out of town, and where did they go anyway?”

“See, another freakin’ question.” That fool laughed at me in my face, and it finally pissed me off. My evil twin came out.

“Geesh, if I can’t even ask a damn question, I might as well take my ass back on across the street!” I jumped up from the kitchen table and started stomping toward the front door in my platforms.

Jason was right on my tail. “Hold up, Zoe. I’m sorry. My parents are in North Carolina visiting some relatives, aight? Just chill, Boo.”

Dang, he called my ass “Boo.” A word of affection. Everyone knew “Boo” was more than just a word Casper the Friendly Ghost whispered to unsuspecting children. Maybe not before the eighties, but Boo was a certified synonym for “Baby,” “Sweetie,” and “Snookums” by the time the word left Jason’s sexy-ass lips. I was a Boo. Aww, dayum!

“Yes, Jason?” I spun around and batted my eyelashes at him, trying to keep myself from blushing, but I realized it was a lost cause.

“What about your hot dog? What you gonna eat for dinner?”

I was appalled. How dare he build up my emotions and then start talking about some damn hot dogs, even if they weren’t cheap-ass chicken franks? I sucked my teeth. “I’ll just eat some Vienna sausages and some saltines instead.”

I swung the door open and headed out, muttering expletives under my breath.

“Wait—why did you ask about me and Chandler for real, though?”

I didn’t even look back at him. “I gotta go. I need to go condition my hair and get ready for the fair.”

“So you’re going then?”

“Yeah, I’m going.” I didn’t want to tell him that Ms. Rankin, the principal, had asked Brina and me to be clowns. Chandler and her other hussy friends were going to kiss boys all day long, and I had to be a freakin’ clown.

Jason was still saying something to me when I slammed the door closed, but I couldn’t have cared less. I was crushed, humiliated, fired up even. I kicked off my shoes, ran into the living room, and buried my head in a toss pillow to catch my tears.

Momma shook me awake a couple of hours later. “What’s wrong, baby? Why are you lying on the sofa in the dark?”