“I can’t give one without a thorough evaluation,” he said.
“But you must have seen her behavior at school,” I persisted.
“Yes. And several of her teachers recommended an evaluation. But her mother would not agree to it. And though I invited Nora to my office a number of times, she never came.”
“I can fill you in,” I told him. “She’s totally phobic about water. My mother drowned here, and Nora says she is sleeping in an old boathouse on the property. She thinks that when the water gets stirred up my mother is doing it.
She says my mother is looking for me. Wouldn’t you call that crazy?”
He shook his head. “Lauren, it’s like asking me if I’d call a painting good, telling me it is blue and red, but not letting me study it firsthand. The answer depends on how those colors are used.”
“But my godmother still won’t agree to an evaluation. And Nora is too confused to know she needs help.”
He spread his hands. “Then there’s nothing I can do. In my field, if the individual doesn’t want help and the person legally responsible refuses to take action, no one else can, not until something life-threatening happens. But I’m glad to talk with you about your feelings toward your godmother and Nora.”
“I don’t want to talk about me!”
He nodded — a little smugly, I thought. “I didn’t think so.
But just in case you change your mind, here’s my card with my summer address and phone. I won’t be around school much longer.”
I took it from him and read the purple print: Dr. 7ames Michael Parker, Paranormal Investigator.
He laughed when he saw the expression on my face. “It’s my hobby,” he said. “But if you like, I can set you up with a therapist who’s more of a straight arrow. Tuck it away in case you need the number.”
I thanked him, perhaps not as nicely as I should have, and put it in my purse.
The music had started up again. Jason was in the mood to dance and — what a surprise — found space on the floor next to his ex and her date. Even luckier for me, Nick and Holly were close by.
I knew we were headed for trouble when the slow dance began, but with Nick right there, I had too much pride to duck out to the ladies’ room. As we danced, Jason kept moving his head. I figured I was supposed to move mine until our lips would just happen to come within an inch of each other’s. I kept my cheek firmly Jason’s lapel, figuring the angle would make it harder for him to kiss me.
Meanwhile Holly had her head on Nick’s shoulder, her eyes closed. I wondered what it would be like to stand that close to Nick, to feel his arms wrap around me and have him whisper something for my ears alone. I wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
I came back to reality just in time to see Jason’s ex kiss her date. Not wanting to be outdone, Jason quickly pulled my face up to his and put his mouth firmly on mine. I turned away.
“Not now,” I said, then wanted to kick myself for leaving it open for a later time. But I didn’t expect him to interpret my statement as thirty seconds later.
He tried kissing me again.
“No,” I said.
He persisted, his hands on the move.
I didn’t want to make a scene and embarrass us both.
“No,” I said quietly, pulling back, “I don’t want to make out.”
He looked at me, incredulous, then tried again. I pushed him back with both hands. The couples around us started to watch. Holly and Nick stopped dancing.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jason said. “Are you frigid?
Been going to an all-girl school for too long?”
Now I was furious.
He reached for my arm, trying to pull me back into a close dance. I remembered what Nick had said about Aunt Jule’s shoes and vampires. I stepped on Jason’s foot, and not with my tippy toes.
Jason yelped and went flying backward. Unfortunately, the punch table was right behind him. It tipped, the huge bowl sliding off, thumping on the carpet, sending up a volcano of pink liquid. Plastic cups tumbled around his head. Nick hooted with laughter.
Humiliated, I hiked up my skirt and ran. I didn’t notice the rain till I was halfway down the block from the Queen Victoria, my head swimming with what I imagined others were saying about me. I could hear Nick laughing his sides out. I was sure Holly wasn’t happy after all she had done for me. When I’d left, Steve was eagerly snapping pictures that weren’t on the approved list.
I held my skirt higher so I could take longer steps and strode for home. An old brown car cruised up beside me.
“Hey, there,” Nick said, rolling down the window. “Nice night for a walk.”
“Yup.”
“Hope that dress doesn’t shrink too much. Looks like it’s getting shorter.”
I silently marched on.
“Maybe you’d like a ride home,” Nick suggested.
“I can get there myself.”
“I know you can. I was being a gentleman, trying to save the reputation of the guys from Wisteria High.”
“I don’t judge a whole group by one person.”
“Lauren, come on, get in. Like it or not, I’m going to follow you and make sure you get home safely. It will be a lot more comfortable if both of us are riding.
My dress felt like a soaked wool stocking. My hair was hanging in short wet strings, and I figured that my mascara was making black rivers down my cheeks. I had never been more miserable.
Nick got out of the car and ran around to the other side, standing in the pouring rain, gallantly holding the door open.
I followed him and got in. By the time he was back in the driver’s seat, he was thoroughly wet. His hair looked like it did when we used to swim together, turning into dark gold corkscrews, but his face was very different from the mischievous cherub I once knew. It was chiseled, the jaw line strong, the mouth sensitiveI quickly looked down and buckled my seat belt. I had seen enough of mouths tonight. It was bewildering to me how much I wanted to avoid Jason’s and didn’t want to avoid Nick’s.
“All set?” he asked.
“Yes, thanks.” My voice shook a little. I hated it when this happened to me. I could get through all kinds of anger and frustration, but when a crisis was over, I wanted to cry like a baby. I blinked my eyes hard.
“Okay,” Nick said. “I’ll explain your job. See this string?”
I looked up. It ran from one side of the car to the other, disappearing out the side windows. Peering through the fogged windshield, I realized the string made a big loop and was tied to the wipers.
“The blades don’t work,” Nick said. “So you have to grab hold of this string and pull. Left, right, left, right. Got it?”
I looked at him for a moment, then moved the string to the left. In unison, the wipers moved to the right.
“You’re going to have to do it faster than that,” he said.
I started smiling. “This is crazy.”
“Left, right, faster, faster — there you go.”
“Why don’t you get them fixed?” I asked.
“It’s more fun this way.”
“I hope you don’t feel the same about brakes. They don’t need fixing, do they?”
“Why do you think I wear these thick rubber soles?”
I laughed. “You’re kidding.”
“You can try dragging your foot,” he continued, “but I don’t think those heels will do much more than knock off menacing forms of life.”
