The Other Me Part 13

"That a joke?" Dirk leans against the wall beside me.

"Hope so." I hand him the card.

"'Dear Gabe. Let's work things out. Love, Karla,'" Dirk reads in a whisper so only he and I can hear. "Told you she loved you."

"Can't imagine why." I slam shut the locker and rip off several Prestiked hearts. Doesn't she have better things to do with her time?

"You should talk to her." Dirk hands me the card, and I drop it in the nearby bin.

"I made it pretty clear we were over months ago."

"Have a heart, bru." He puts a hand on my chest, his face twisted in mock pain.

"I'll donner donner you." you."

He removes his hand. "But seriously, can't you guys be friends?"

"You're the expert. You tell me."

Dirk ponders this in silence as we stalk through the corridors toward Afrikaans, my gaze scanning left and right. Last thing I need is to run into Karla now.

"Maybe being friends with an ex is wishful thinking," Dirk says as we traipse into the cla.s.sroom. "Besides, you've got Treasa now."

"I don't have anyone." My voice is devoid of emotion, even though the truth in that statement hurts more than I imagined possible.

Treasa

FINALLY, THE THE heat wave breaks, and we can all breathe easier. It's been raining for three days. The spiderweb-fine consistent drizzle turns the world into a giant swamp. heat wave breaks, and we can all breathe easier. It's been raining for three days. The spiderweb-fine consistent drizzle turns the world into a giant swamp.

Too cool for umbrellas, we don our blazers and head for the music block. My hair is going to frizz. Rather that than look like a dork with a brollie.

"Irish weather," I say, echoing my mom.

"More like bed weather." Jordan picks her way past a puddle. I can't resist. Taking a run up, I jump and land with both feet squarely in the puddle.

"Treasa, what the h.e.l.l?" Jordan yells.

"It barely touched you." I, on the other hand, have drenched socks and a mud-splattered skirt.

"This is so gross." Jordan uses the sleeve of her blazer to wipe down her legs.

"It's only water," Gabriel says, coming up behind us, and my heart ratchets up my throat. I'm a little miffed he canceled our weekend plans, but there's no way I can stay cross with his face wearing a lopsided grin like that.

Jordan folds her arms and purses her lips. Gabriel chuckles and taps his toes in a puddle, creating tiny splashes.

"No, like this." Maybe it's seeing Gabriel again, maybe it's the weather or hormones or some weird affectation of my alien DNA, but I have the overwhelming urge to puddle stomp. I launch myself with bent-kneed fury at the minipond and land with a magnificent splash. Jordan screams and backs away. Gabriel laughs, and the sound makes me warm and tingly despite being dripping wet.

"You asked for it, Treasa." Jordan runs at me, grabs my arms, and lands with her feet on either side of mine, ensuring we both get soaked.

"My turn." Gabriel leaps into the air, holding his music file high above his head, and sprays us with muddy water. The game begins, and for a few liberating minutes, we charge around the music block, jumping in puddles and kicking water at one another.

"Ladies!" Mrs. McArthur bellows from the safety of the choir room. "And Mr. du Preez. You are late." She says nothing about our once-white socks now stained brown or our flushed and water-smeared faces. She does, however, insist Gabriel clean himself up and dry off if he plans on being anywhere near the piano.

AFTER CHOIR CHOIR, I'm hoping there'll be round two of puddle-stomping hysterics. Alas, the sun dismantles the clouds, casting a faint rainbow across the sky. Jordan says good-bye and heads back to put in a few more hours on her art project, while Lethi and Sibo wave before stepping into their mom's black BMW. I'm hoping there'll be round two of puddle-stomping hysterics. Alas, the sun dismantles the clouds, casting a faint rainbow across the sky. Jordan says good-bye and heads back to put in a few more hours on her art project, while Lethi and Sibo wave before stepping into their mom's black BMW.

Damp strands of hair dangle in front of Gabriel's eyes. I want to reach up and tuck them behind his ear. Would that be overstepping the invisible boundary between us? He flicks his head, clearing his eyes.

"That was fun." He changes weight between feet, his shoes squelching. "We should do it again sometime."

Dirk's Beetle chugs into the parking lot. My time with Gabriel is almost up.

"Listen." He runs a hand through his hair. "Dirk's having a braai braai on Sunday. Thought you might want to go." on Sunday. Thought you might want to go."

I can't breathe, yet somehow manage to ask, "Who'll be there?"

"Dirk, a few school friends. That's it."

"Sounds good." Sounds positively terrifying. "And you won't cancel this time?"

"Sorry about that." He squirms and flicks hair out of his face. "And no, I won't. Promise. Just let me know if you need a lift."

"Thanks. I'll ask my folks and SMS you, if that's okay?"

"No problem." He smiles, and not even the suns.h.i.+ne parting the clouds or the rainbow hanging in the sky comes close to the radiance of his expression. "See you later, Treasa."

I watch him slip into Dirk's car and ride away. Now to convince my parents to let me go to a braai with a bunch of Matrics.

MOM AND AND Dad are not a united front. If I want something, like a new cellphone or computer or to go to a braai with Gabriel, approaching Dad first is the way to go. He's out on the patio nursing a beer, watching the weaver birds shred the leaves of his prize palm tree. Dad are not a united front. If I want something, like a new cellphone or computer or to go to a braai with Gabriel, approaching Dad first is the way to go. He's out on the patio nursing a beer, watching the weaver birds shred the leaves of his prize palm tree.

"b.l.o.o.d.y b.u.g.g.e.rs just won't stop." He picks a pebble out of Mom's potted plant and lobs it at the palm tree. The birds flutter away, only to return moments later for continued destruction. I bring a dish filled with salted peanuts, Dad's favorite, onto the patio with me.

"Want a nut?"

"Thanks, my girl." He grabs a handful, and I give him a moment to chew and savor before I start.

"Daddy." I sit next to him. "You know that guy I told you about? Gabriel?"

"Afrikaans lad, the piano player."

"Yeah, well, he asked me to go to a braai on Sunday. You think I could go?"

Dad gives me a knowing look as he swigs his beer.

"At his house?"

"A friend's place."

"Hm." Dad'll need some more convincing.

"It's a friend of his from the rugby team." I'm reaching.

"Gabriel plays rugby?"

"He's a kicker." I hope there's such a position. "Like Percy Montgomery," I add since that's the only name I know from the sport, because that's the only player who is even remotely good-looking.

"Does he play cricket?"

"If he had the time, he'd prefer to play cricket. He thinks cricket is the better sport." And so does Dad, so let's hope he says yes to the braai now.

"So it's a team braai?"

"Something like that."

"These boys'll be drinking?"

"Only the ones over eighteen."

Dad seems to consider this for a moment, so I hastily add, "But Gabriel won't be drinking and neither will I, obviously."

"Obviously." Dad throws another pebble at the palm tree. "A rugby-playing pianist? Wonders never cease." Dad smiles, and I know I've almost got this one in the bag.

"So can I go?"

"Why not? If it's okay with your mother, it's okay with me. I'll take you, though, suss it out. You know, the usual Dad stuff."

"Thank you, Daddy." I lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek. One down, a mother to go.

"Absolutely not," Mom says while chasing stir-fry veggies around the wok with an egg lifter. "I don't know these people, and I'm not relinquis.h.i.+ng my daughter to complete strangers."

"Dad said he'd take me and suss it out first."

"Did he, now?" Her eyes narrow into lizard-like slits.

"Please, Mom. Even if it's for a couple of hours."

"I'm not happy about you hanging out with this older government school crowd. You stank of cigarette smoke after that concert."

"So, Gabriel smokes on the odd occasion."

"Does he make you smoke too?" She's turning into a velociraptor over nothing.

"No."

She's not even listening. "First the piercings, now cigarettes. What's next?"

"Mom, please calm down. Seriously. It's just a party."

"I said no." She adds too much chili to the vegetables.

"Don't you want me to have a social life, or would you prefer I stay at home every weekend with Mommy and Daddy?" I slam the knife into the carrot I'm chopping for the salad.

"Resa, of course I want you to have a social life, but I want you to be safe." She softens.

"Dad will drop me. He can even come in and meet the parents." Not that Dad will, because he's more introverted than I am.

"Is it a bring and braai?" Mom adds onion to the pan.

"I think so."

She chases the vegetables around the wok aggressively. "Do you want to take boerewors boerewors or or sosaties sosaties?"

"So I can go, then?"

"But you'll have an eight o'clock curfew. It's a school night."

"Thank you, Mommy." I throw my arms around her, and she pats my shoulder.

DINNER SEEMS SEEMS to take forever. My dad spends the entire meal extolling the virtues of Mark Boucher's ability to defend the wickets and Hansie Cronje's brilliance as a captain, asking me what Gabriel thinks of this spin bowler or that Indian batsman. I duck as soon as I'm done, leaving Mom with Dad to discuss his predictions for the upcoming test series. to take forever. My dad spends the entire meal extolling the virtues of Mark Boucher's ability to defend the wickets and Hansie Cronje's brilliance as a captain, asking me what Gabriel thinks of this spin bowler or that Indian batsman. I duck as soon as I'm done, leaving Mom with Dad to discuss his predictions for the upcoming test series.

I race to my bedroom to SMS Gabriel. While I'm waiting for him to reply, I SMS Jordan the good news, hoping she'll offer to be my personal stylist again. Gabriel replies first, saying he'll pick me up at 3:00 p.m. A lengthy and somewhat embarra.s.sing SMS conversation about why my dad wants to drop me off ensues. Gabriel sends me a smiley face and Dirk's address.

Jordan finally responds with a series of smiley faces and exclamation marks and the promise to help me pick out what to wear. I lie on my bed with Riker curled up beside me, vibrating against my ribs with every purr. I stare at my walls, at Liam St. Clare, and can't help wondering if replacing all my posters of the celebrity with pictures of Gabriel would be weird. Ah, Gabriel, with his bright eyes and square jaw and floppy hair and kissable lips.

Worry knots my insides. In this week's episode of Project Blue Book Project Blue Book, Resa finally kissed the human girl he's been in love with the whole season-personally, I think he and my Tristan make a better couple-and in that moment of pa.s.sion, the girl glimpsed images of Kazar. Rust-colored sand dunes and crimson cacti, a city of glinting spires rising from the dust, and Resa's real face-which they didn't actually show. I guess his true form isn't quite as s.e.xy as Liam St. Clare's. The girl completely freaked out, calling him a monster and telling him not to touch her, which broke Resa's heart. What if Gabriel tries to kiss me Sat.u.r.day night, and I am an alien and he sees something weird and terrifying? Will he be disgusted? Will he hate me? Will I end up on the run for my life with a bunch of government agencies wanting to stick me in a lab for testing?

Maybe I do need therapy, or maybe I just need him to kiss me and then I'll know for sure. If he doesn't see anything weird, I'm just a girl with issues, and if he does see purple oceans and three-headed aliens, then at least I'll know I have a legitimate reason to feel like such a freak.