Party

"what do you think about going to Melissa James's party tonight? It would be a great way for you to meet people and to have a good time," I told Clay while he loaded one of the glass cases in his aunt's shop with merchandise. Clay frowned as he placed chunks of amethyst and quartz on the shelves. "A party? I'm not sure about that," he answered hesitantly.

Clay and I now spent most evenings together. I would come see him at work after cross-country practice. I was making an effort to get my act together. After I missed practice last week, Coach Kline had followed through on his threat and suspended me from that Friday's meet. And that did not feel good. I hated disappointing him. Even worse, I knew I was letting myself down, too.

Coach had pulled me into his office after lunch on Monday. I knew what was coming. I had been dreading this conversation for weeks. Coach Kline was like a big teddy bear. He was popular with the kids because he was approachable and easygoing. His faith in his students was unwavering. But I knew I had broken his trust. And that hurt.

"Close the door, Maggie, and have a seat," Coach directed after I followed him into his office. I felt my hands start to sweat. I hated confrontation on any level. Coach Kline sat down behind his desk and looked at me. "Is there some- thing going on with you that I need to know about?" I didn't know what to say, so I decided playing ignorant was a good place to start. "Uh, not that I know of." I couldn't look at Coach. I felt too guilty. I heard him sigh.

"Maggie, you are the best runner on the team. I really thought this was your year. But I feel like your heart just isn't in it anymore. You know, if there is any- thing you ever need to talk about, I'm here. My door is always open and what we discuss is confidential."

I wanted to cover my face with my hands. God, what did he think was going on? It was my own fault, though. My unprecedented flakiness raised a million red flags. But I couldn't admit that it was nothing more dramatic than me spending my afternoons lusting after the new guy. That probably wouldn't go over too well.

"Everything's cool, Coach. I guess I just have other stuff going on right now." Well, that was sort of the truth. I heard Coach click his pen over and over again. I looked at him and knew that I couldn't keep shirking my responsibilities. It wasn't fair to Coach or the team.

Coach Kline looked at me and frowned. "Well, I don't need to tell you that you miss one more practice and I have no choice but to suspend you for the rest of the season. It's the school policy. And I would hate to lose you. You have scholarships out there waiting for you. With your record, you'd be a shoo-in. Don't throw it all away. You'd regret it down the road." I knew he was right.

"I won't, Coach. I promise." At the time, I really meant those words. I wanted the scholarships and the sparkling, pretty future. I wanted to make my family and school proud. These were all rational thoughts.

But when I saw Clay waiting for me after school, all rational thought went right out the window. It was too easy to lose myself in his company. He was like a drug and I was hopelessly addicted.

So cutting out our afternoon rendezvous was like going cold turkey. It seriously sucked. Instead, I had started stalking him at Ruby's Bookshelf. I knew he helped out there after school. I just couldn't go an entire day without having that alone time with him that I had come to crave. I also hated to admit that I was driven by my horrible jealousy over the too-pretty-for-comfort Tilly- whose crush on Clay was becoming more and more obvious. Luckily, Clay was oblivious, otherwise I would have had a serious catfight on my hands.

Clay always seemed happy to see me, and so it had become our thing. He got help at the shop and I got my Clayton Reed fix. Of course, now, instead of piss- ing off my coach, I was pissing off my parents by missing dinner most nights of the week.

But I needed this time with Clay. When we were by ourselves, I saw a side of him that was so different from the image he projected at school. After our disas- trous lunch together, Clay had joined us a few other times. Rachel tried really hard to be nice to Clay and there were times when I thought maybe these two parts of my life might be able to coexist. Clay could be talkative and polite with my friends when the mood suited him. I loved seeing him banter with Rachel and talk to Daniel (who was making an effort, at least) about soccer. Clay made me feel so endlessly happy when he was like that.

But then there were the days when Clay would disappear, not showing up for lunch and becoming again the shadow in the hallways. If I approached him, he would either blow me off or act like he was angry with me. His moods were mercurial. He seemed to close in on himself at times and it made me sick to my stomach. I asked him about it once and he pretended that he didn't know what I was talking about, that I was imagining things.

But when things were good they were fantastic. He was so much fun to be around. He made me laugh and let loose in a way that I never had before. He made the most mundane things exciting and interesting. There was something magnetic about Clayton Reed that made it almost impossible for me to stay away from him.

We were still technically "friends." However, we danced on a very fine line between friendship and something else. I could feel it. I knew Clay could feel it. But I also knew Clay held back for some reason, and right now I was okay with letting us go at his pace. Because I knew it would lead to something life altering. Even though it drove me nuts.

Clay continued to garner a lot of attention from the girls at Jackson High School. I hated the painful jealousy I'd feel whenever I watched some stupid cheerleader or other annoying flirty girl try to get his attention. I was possessive of my relationship with Clay in a way that surprised me. But I found, to my in- tense relief, that he seemed content with spending time within my small circle.

I had come to realize how amazing Clayton Reed was and I didn't want to share him.

"What's wrong with going to a party?" I asked innocently, deliberately not ac- knowledging his wariness. I passed him a handful of pewter figurines and he carefully placed them on top of the case. I watched his purposeful yet delicate movements and thought about those hands touching me with the same gentle- ness.

Clayton seemed to be weighing his words before he answered me. "I'm just not really a party person anymore."

"Anymore? Were you a party person before?" I asked him. Clayton sat back on the chair behind him and started digging through the box on the floor at his feet. He was still so choosy in the information he revealed about himself. I had learned in the past few weeks that he felt his parents could no longer "deal" with him and that's why he was now living with his aunt. He admitted to having a lot of "problems" and it had become too much for his mom and dad to "handle." His aunt was apparently much more patient and supportive of him, and he felt more relaxed in her home than he ever did with his parents.

"Yeah, partying was part of my issue in Florida," he said, getting up and car- rying the box to the back room. Tilly gave him a smile as he passed. Her smile at me was much tighter and I knew it bothered the older girl that I hung out with Clayton in the store, which she must have viewed as her territory.