Notes from the Blender Page 3

  I guess this day was pretty much adolescence in a nutshell: I had a constant boner, and I wanted to cry.

  Now, I do have enough self-control to make it through a school day without milking myself. I’m not going to be that kid who gets busted for beating off in the bathroom. That would probably land me on the sex-offender registry.

  I’m also not going to be that kid who goes to cry in the bathroom because he’s afraid his daddy doesn’t love him anymore. That would get me branded a hopeless wuss and raise my profile among the school’s troglodyte population enough that I might as well paint a target on my head. I think that would actually be worse than being on the sex-offender registry.

  But if I didn’t get to either cry or beat off, or both, my head was going to explode, so I headed over to First Church to cry.

  Sarah insists that the sanctuary of the church be left unlocked all the time so that those who need a quiet spot can come to pray or meditate or whatever. I guess it will continue like this until the first homeless guy decides to camp out here or some depraved teens have a drug-addled orgy among the splintery pews late one night. So far, nobody’s taken advantage of it, though, believe me, I have filed this away as the most likely spot to lose my virginity in the unlikely event some girl decides to notice me before College, Where Sensitive Guys Can Actually Get Some Booty. Which is how I think of it now.

  Also, there’s never anybody in the sanctuary actually praying or meditating. I guess there were a bunch of people in the weeks after that school bus crash two towns over, and Mom’s death hit people in this church pretty hard, so Sarah set up this candle where Mom used to sit, and people came and cried around it. Or so I’m told.

  Otherwise, it’s always empty in here. Except today. I came in here to cry by myself, and somebody else was already in here crying. A girl.

  Jesus, I wanted to shout, you’re a girl! You get to cry anywhere! Why do you have to hog the one spot where I can safely empty my tear ducts without getting my ass kicked?

  Fortunately, I didn’t shout that, because as I got closer, I thought I recognized the back of that head. I ought to—I’d spent enough hours picturing it bobbing up and down on my lap. Yep. Neilly Foster. Who apparently wasn’t quite as tough as I’d always thought.

  And yes, it was the Return of the Uncontrollable Boner. But something else came up, too. I knew what it was, mostly from hearing Aunt Sarah sermonize about it: compassion.

  This girl was crying because she was all screwed up because her mom was marrying my dad. (And possibly because she’d have to share a house with a perverted little monster like myself. I suppose, in her position, I’d probably cry about that, too.)

  I knew how she felt. In fact, I was probably the only person in town who had any idea how she felt. And she was probably the only person in town who had any idea how I felt. And if we could form a bond and get it on before our folks got married, then it wouldn’t really be incest, and it might be okay, right? Nah—I knew that was almost certainly never going to happen. We lived in different worlds. Except those worlds were about to collide in my house. Or maybe hers.

  “I think I know exactly how you feel,” I said as I approached her pew.

  She looked up, her eyes all red and puffy, her mascara smeared on her cheeks. She was completely adorable. After warning me she’d have to kill me if I told anyone I’d seen her in such a state—which was pretty arousing, but then again, Neilly Foster noticing my existence was pretty arousing—she said, “Yeah? How do you figure?”

  “Well, I mean, your mom is marrying my dad, so there’s that.”

  She looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time, which she probably was, which just seemed kind of funny considering the starring role she’d played in my fantasies for the last year or so.

  “Well. Mom didn’t mention you.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “Yeah, I seem to have that effect on women.”

  She gave a sad little smile, and I just wanted to keep it on her face, so I kept talking, which knowing me was probably a bad instinct. “I mean, I don’t know what your exact situation is, I don’t know if your dad is alive or what—”

  “Alive. Marrying a man next month.”

  “Whoa. Probably right here in this very church. Anyway, my mom’s dead, and I’m an only child, so the whole new baby thing was kind of hard to—”

  “New baby? What new baby? What are you talking about?” she yelled. Her voice echoed through the sanctuary.

  It occurred to me that I was the wrong person to be telling her this, and it also occurred to me that I was about to go from Strange Guy Who Comforted Me When I Was Down to Complete Freak Who Delivered the News That Crushed My World. “Uh, well, to use my dad’s words”—here I launched into my Dad impression, which I’ve had a lot of years to hone and which would be funny if she actually knew him—“er, um, uh, it was late, we’d been drinking, and normally we’re very careful, but, uh…at our ages…well, you’re going to have a little sibling.”

  I was afraid this would touch off another round of tears, but instead, she just started laughing. “Oh my God! My mom’s knocked up!”

  “I’m guessing she gave you the same ‘be responsible’ talk my dad gave me.”

  She cackled kind of hysterically, which clued me in that her laughter could turn into tears at any moment. “Only…oh shit…only every fucking time I left the house since the eighth grade! Hee-hee!”

  She had a foul mouth. I didn’t think I could be more smitten. Also, her laugh was infectious, and if you put aside the horrifying picture of our parents going at it and the knowledge that Dad hated me, the whole situation was pretty funny.

  We sat there just laughing together for a minute. I guess we were laughing pretty loud, because the door at the back of the sanctuary opened and Aunt Sarah poked her head in.

  “Dec?” she said. “Why aren’t you in school?”

  “I…I’m just so shocked by adults today and their promiscuous ways.…” My sentence dissolved into laughs, and Neilly, who’d been trying to pull a straight face when Aunt Sarah walked in, snorted really loud, which made us both laugh some more.

  Aunt Sarah walked toward us, and I caught my breath enough to say, “Aunt Sarah…have you met my sister?” More snorts, more laughter, and Aunt Sarah rolled her eyes.

  “I see you’ve gotten the news,” she said, sitting in the pew in front of me.

  “Oh, man, the wrong member of our family came to those OWL classes. I think Dad needed the condom-and-banana lesson.”

  Aunt Sarah fought back a smile and, with some effort, put on a serious grown-up face. “Okay, okay. So you needed a mental health day. And who’s your friend?”

  “I told you, she’s my sister!”

  Neilly extended her hand and said, “Neilly Foster. And I guess we are going to be siblings. Or stepsiblings. Or something. Uh, I guess I should probably go. I, uh…I mean, thanks for the…It’s nice to—hey!” she said, turning to me. “I don’t even know your name!”

  I extended my hand. “Declan.”

  Neilly Foster reached out and wrapped her little hand gingerly around mine and gave it a squeeze. “Pleased to meet you, Declan.”

  It was all I could do to stay conscious. “You, too,” I said, and watched her perfect ass as she all but ran from the church.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Neilly

  MY MOM.

  Getting married.

  With a baby on board.

  Courtesy of too many glasses of wine and the unencumbered-by-a-condom sperm of the ear-nibbling towel wearer.

  Was it any wonder I was running away from the news in horror? No one wants to think her mom is getting it on while she’s at school and/or hanging with friends, no less getting it on and getting knocked up during those hours. It was just so . . . so . . . well, disgusting is a word that comes to mind. Not to mention completely nasty.

  When I was little, I used to beg my mom and dad for a sibling all the time. I think I fantasized about someone
to push around in a stroller and feed bottles to, and if I’m being perfectly honest, to rule for life. But that was a million years ago.

  And now—well beyond the expiration date of my desire for one—I was going to have a brand-spanking-new half brother or half sister. Not to mention a metalhead stepbrother and a severely underdressed, overly horny creeper of a stepfather.

  It was just another addition to the unfathomable equation that had been my day. As a review:

  4 stomach-acid-inducing words

  × 3

  − Sam

  − his new girlfriend/my ex–best friend

  + balding half-naked guy/Declan’s father/Mom’s fiancé/ babydaddy

  + in-utero half sibling

  + Dracula/Declan

  = I’m completely screwed

  And it wasn’t like there was a simple solution to my problems. No Oh, things will look different in the morning, chalk it up to a bad day and move on. None of this was going away anytime soon.

  At least Declan had been nice, making me laugh and getting me back to normal-ish. And his Aunt Sarah had been nice, too. If I hadn’t felt so hysterical—giggles kept bubbling up out of my misery and turning it into a new breed of absurdist performance art—I might’ve even hung out a little longer in that church, making fun of our parents and their crazy situation. But I just couldn’t.

  So I walked outside and tried calling my dad again—and got shot directly to his voice mail again. This time, I put out a desperate SOS. “Daddy, I am having pretty much the worst day of my whole life and I could definitely use someone to talk to. Not to mention lots of cheese fries. Call me back as soon as you get this.”

  I pulled off the torture devices I used to call my favorite boots and started walking in the general direction of his office. I was hoping my dad would hit me right back, come pick me up, and we’d be at Meatheads digging into cheddar-covered spuds before I got even a few blocks.

  Unfortunately, Dad not only didn’t cut my walk short, but he was still nowhere to be found when I finally got to his place—only Uncle Roger was there. And while I liked him well enough, it’s not like we’re BFF or anything. He and my dad think I don’t know they’re living together, so the nights I spend at my dad’s, Roger is noticeably absent. Plus, he’s not exactly the type of gay guy women are dying to pal around with and tell all their secrets to. He’s more like the Marlboro Man if he decided to switch teams—the strong, rugged, man-of-few-words type.

  “Neilly!” he exclaimed when he saw me. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  I shrugged, peering around Roger’s burly body to try to find my father’s slight one.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  “Not so much. Is my dad around?”

  Roger slung a beefy arm around me, his super-starched shirt sleeve barely able to contain the huge bicep that hid underneath. “He’s in court right now, defending a client. Should be back around five or so. Care to wait?”

  I stared down at my dirty, blistered toes, scrunching them up like I do at the dentist’s office to take my mind of the unpleasant proceedings. It kind of worked. “No, thanks. I should probably get going.”

  “You sure?” Roger asked, plunking his humongo bodybuilder body into an unsuspecting office chair that looked like it wanted to collapse under the pressure. “You might not know this about me yet, but I can be a pretty good listener.”

  I patted Roger’s ginormous shoulder. He really was sweet, and I was glad my dad had found someone as loving, loyal, and protective as him. If only Sam had been like that not only when we were alone together but also when I was out of town for two tiny little days. “Roger, honestly, I just don’t feel like getting into it all now. No offense.”

  “None taken,” he said, patting the seat next to his desk. The guy was not easily dissuaded. “And anyway, you don’t have to tell me all of it.”

  I considered arguing, but I was so dog tired I gave in and sat down instead. “Okay, fine. I just lost my best friend. To my very recently ex-boyfriend. And now I have no one to escort me to your commitment ceremony. Plus, my mom is knocked up and getting married, and I didn’t even know she was dating anyone special.”

  Roger clasped his sausagelike fingers behind his head and whistled. “Doozies, Neilly. I’m sorry for your troubles.”

  “Me, too.”

  “You know, I don’t think Griffin was planning on bringing a date to the ceremony. Maybe you two could go together.”

  I put my hands up quickly to deflect the idea—kind of like Stop! In the name of no way! Griffin Taylor was on my shit list for life, and I’d never even met him. Mostly because, until a few months ago, he hadn’t even seen or spoken to Roger in, like, two years—he’d just shut out Roger completely when he found out his dad was gay. What a coward. I would never have done that to my dad, no matter how hard it had been to keep it together after the news hit the school.

  Yeah, I’d heard all about how Griffin had apologized to Roger, and how Roger had welcomed Griff back into his life with open arms, and blahblahblahblahblah, but I wasn’t buying any of it. Just because my dad was marrying Roger didn’t mean I had to play nice with his loser son. Griffin’s spiky blue mohawked head and stupid stoner eyes staring back at me from the picture on Roger’s desk just sealed the deal. No way was I hanging around some drugged-out boy who so seriously lacked balls he couldn’t even stand by his dad when the going got tough. Not even if it was just for one night.

  “Roger, if you hadn’t already noticed, Griffin and I don’t exactly run with the same kind of crowd.”

  His eyes locked right into mine. “And like I’ve told you before, Neilly, Griff isn’t who you think he is.”

  I cut Roger off before he could really get going. I know some parents can be blind to their kid’s faults, but this was ridiculous. Could Roger really not see he’d spawned a hell raising wastoid who only cared about himself? “I’m sure he is, Roger. And I’m sure he’ll make some girl completely, deliriously happy. That girl’s just not me.”

  “I meant you could go together as friends,” he clarified. “Have someone to hang out with who’s not over forty years old.”

  I shook my head, maybe a little too emphatically.

  Roger patted my knee. “Fine. Just know that Griffin will be there if you decide you want to shake a leg on the dance floor or something. The band is going to be killer.”

  “Thanks,” I said, standing up to leave. “Can you just tell my dad I stopped by?”

  “Sure thing,” he said. “Need a lift anywhere?”

  I shook my head again. “No, thanks.” I mean, where did I think I was going anyway? Not home, that was for sure. Not to Lu’s. Not to Sam’s. I was like a total homeless—not to mention friendless—person.

  Without even really thinking about it, I soon found myself back at the little church. Kneeling down in a pew, I clasped my hands tightly together and rested my head in them. I guess I was hoping for a miracle.

  And I got one. Kind of.

  “You okay?” a soft female voice asked.

  I looked up to see Declan’s aunt Sarah. “Not really.”

  Aunt Sarah slid into the pew next to me, put an arm around me, and squeezed me tight. “You’ve had a tough day.”

  I nodded. Words failed me, but Aunt Sarah didn’t. She took me to her office, handed me a really bitter cup of coffee that I tried to doctor up with four packets of sugar and five little creamer cups, and let me spill my guts. What I liked most about her was that she didn’t try to fix anything, like most adults do when you go to them with a problem—she just listened. Without judgment. And it was really nice to be able to let my guard down and vent freely for once.

  I was still blabbing when my father finally showed up—I’d texted him where I was between the coffee-doctoring and the gut-spilling. To my surprise, he and Aunt Sarah greeted each other like total BFFs. Apparently, this was the church Dad had been trying to get me to attend with him on Sundays. While I’d been busy boycotting God, he�
�d gone and found a more tolerant version of Him. Here. With Aunt Sarah. Small world, huh?

  So after they were done hugging and hi-ing and how-are-you-ing, my dad turned to me and said, “I’ll take you home now, Neilly. Your mom has been worried sick about you.”

  I hadn’t responded to a single one of her texts or voice mails since I’d caught her with Afternoon Delight Dude. “Dad, please. Let me stay with you, at least for a couple of days,” I begged. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to act normal after seeing Mom like that. I mean, I feel like I should poke my eyes out and get a lobotomy so I never have to think about it again.”

  “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” he asked, putting a hand on my back and gently steering me toward the door. “Thanks, Sarah, for being such a good sounding board for my daughter today. We really appreciate it.”

  “And I really appreciate the difficult position she’s in,” Aunt Sarah said, giving me a supportive nod. “In fact, I think I just might’ve convinced Neilly to give my youth group a try, to help her deal with things.”

  “Sounds great,” my dad called over his shoulder as we walked away. As soon as we were outside, he added, “I assume you were just being polite.”

  “I don’t know. She was cool. So maybe.”

  My dad unlocked the doors to his old-man sedan with the automatic clicker. “Good. I really think you’d like Sarah’s youth group. It’s a very different kind of church than the one we used to go to, Neilly.”

  “So I gathered.”

  We drove a few blocks in silence, but just as I reached out to turn on the radio, my dad stopped me. “I know you’re upset with your mom, but please give her a break. She’s been through a lot.”

  “She’s been through a lot?” I snorted.

  “She has, and so have you,” he said, turning into my driveway. “Just know she never meant to hurt you.”

  I shrugged. I figured it was probably true.

  “And neither did I, you know?” he added.