Incense and Peppermints Read online

  My brother’s car stood diagonally from the school building, idling in a cloud of oily fumes. Candy jumped into the front seat, and Dee and I scooched into the back.

  “What took you so long?” Stevie said with an uneven grin as he winked at Candy as if she was a sweet piece of meat. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

  Candy and Dee snickered, and believe it or not, I did too in spite of myself. We’d made it, yet my pulse was flipping out.

  The radio squawked “My Generation” for the millionth time that week. Our voices kept harmony as we joggled on vinyl seats. The waning days of September were balmy, and the brilliance had me squinting at the passing scenery. I rolled down the window and whittled away my anxiety with fresh breezes. Somewhere deep inside, I was unwinding and felt freedom like never before.

  Stevie decelerated into Como Park, the fundamental hangout where anyone and everyone could be found. Cops, or what everybody referred to as the pigs, were acquainted with my nineteen-year-old brother. Over the past year he’d been detained for buying beer for underage teens, fighting on public property, causing a disturbance, and two speeding tickets that I was aware of. He was extremely well-versed in profanity that had also landed him in trouble on several occasions.

  He seemed to know exactly where he was heading, swamping toward the flats over a pebbled path behind growths of thorn bushes to a cleverly concealed shelter. When we staggered from the car, I recognized a couple of seniors—well-known potheads Tom and Jesse.

  “Hey, man,” said a gnarly guy with shaggy hair in a low-slung ponytail who I didn’t recognize. “Welcome, maidens, to our humble abode.”

  We were the only girls present, and four guys plus the freaking new, hot guy who appeared to be staring at me.

  Phew. My breath hit a snag. Why is he looking at me like that? Did I grow three eyes or do I have an alien on my head? Instant heat infected my cheeks, and that meant my skin was getting splotchy. By means of a spry toe turn, I looked elsewhere. I’m pathetic.

  The gnarly dude, called Monty, was rooting in a cooler. “Got cold ones, man.” He tossed a can of beer to Stevie and one to each girl.

  I fumbled the sweaty can between my fingers but managed to get a solid grip before it hit dirt.

  “I got my draft card in the mail.” Monty hooted and mocked a hand salute. “It’s time to get wasted. ‘Cuz we’re all gonna die!” He wiped his hands on his tied-dyed T-shirt and over his chubby belly. “Let’s drink to my buddy, Jack. Coming home today in pieces. Nam’s claimed another one.”

  “Shit, man,” Jesse said. “You mean Jack Stetzel? He joined the Marines, didn’t he?”

  “Sempi Fi all the way.” Monty’s eyes glistened as he ran his fingers under his nose. “What’s the one good thing to come out of this goddamn war?” He preened like a peacock expecting a solution.

  “Nothing,” Stevie said, sneering. “What good ever comes from war?”

  “Monty, you’re off your nut,” Tom said and stumbled a little. “We’re all just gonna die in this God forsaken war.”

  “They’re talking about lowering the legal drinking age, my friends.” Monty relinquished the answer, hoisting his beer can. “We’ll be able to drink legally and buy booze at eighteen instead of twenty-one, man.”

  It looked like second nature as everyone peeled back the metal tabs and sunk them into their cans. Bracing my thumb under the tab, I pulled, and foam blasted, spraying me in the face. Laughter added to my mortification, and a rush of heat reappeared.

  “You shook it up, Bambi,” said the hot guy, Michael Covington, in a southern drawl.

  Not your typical local-yokel, Michael had moved from a major southern city to our hick town for his senior year. Why he’d transferred to Lancaster was unknown, but the girls at school were crazy about him. Who could miss that hair—raven-black, straight as an arrow, and uniquely cut, as if he’d wielded a razor blade and had hacked away, creating hundreds of long layers. Which contrasted with his cerulean blue eyes that sparkled more than my mom’s diamond and sapphire earrings and drew fawning girls.

  Since I’m a dwarfish imp, Michael had me beat by twelve or more inches, and it made him very detectable. What I hadn’t seen on his bronzed face while scrabbling in the hallways at school were the angry healing wounds. A three-inch pinkish welt, shaped like a crescent moon, slashed across the skin under his left eye and an obvious sutured gash contoured his jawbone. At least he wasn’t totally flawless. However, the scars hardly detracted from his good looks. They only gave a dangerous appeal, making him achingly attractive.

  “My name is Mary.”

  Perceptive eyes smiled at me beneath a layer of lashes.

  “Not Bambi.” My disloyal vocal chords warbled.

  A breeze ruffled his ebony hair, making him appear like a model posing for Seventeen Magazine. His aristocratic nose led to full lips and a squared, bristly chin. He more than adequately filled out a sleeveless T-shirt detailed with the Steppenwolf band logo “Born to be Wild.” Michael lifted his arms, propping them behind his head. In doing so, he exposed a hint of a flat stomach over his beltline. I tried not to stare. No luck. The guy was visibly out of my league.

  “Mary…” Buttery sweet, he said my name. “You look young, like a fawn in headlights with those big eyes and freckles.”

  “I’ll be sixteen next week.” Is he being rude?

  “Well, then—” His mouth stretched into a charming smirk. “—I guess you’re ready for just about anything. Right, Bambi?”

  I wanted to slap the smirk off his gorgeous face.

  “Hey, Michael.” Steve sounded firm. “That’s my sister you’re talking to. Be nice.”

  “Oh, excuse me, Steve. I meant no disrespect to your sister.” Michael winked at me.

  Strange, yet pleasant, stirrings boomeranged through my veins.

  Michael plowed a cigarette between his lips and drew deep, blazing the tip red. He continued to stare at me as smoke drifted from his mouth, wreathing his head.

  Tearing my eyes from his face, I toyed with my beer tab. I refused to slip it into the can like everybody else, afraid it might cut my lip. Or worse, what if I swallowed the darn thing? I held it by my thumb and finger, searching for a trashcan.

  I turned to find Stevie watching me. He unglued his arm from Candy’s shoulder, stepped to my side, and dipped his head to my ear. “Hey, Mary, you okay with this?” he asked, big brotherly like. “You ever drink before?”

  I shook my head and looked him in the eyes.

  “Well, take it easy, ‘kay?” He plucked the tab from my fingers and fed it into my beer can.

  Oh hell. I took a careful sip. The cold liquid washed over my tongue. I liked it.

  A half hour later, I was in the process of unpeeling my second beer tab. And not hankering for a repeat of the embarrassing moment, I veered my face from the can only to be distracted by a hyena-like chortle resonating over the screaming music. I snapped my neck to look for the source. Dee stood center stage of the shelter adorned in a clingy tank top that boasted perky boobs. Apparently, the more she drank the flashier she became. When “Something” from the Beatles sifted from the radio, she sang the lyrics in a mellow tone.

  Methodically moving nimble hips, Dee looked like someone who could dance for money. Give her a pole, and guys would be stuffing her panties with dollar bills. She tucked her thumbs into her wide leather belt, and hitched her jeans lower than her already low hip-huggers. No one could have resisted gawking at her, and gawk I did. Even after four years of tap and ballet lessons, my dance teacher hadn’t taught me those gyrations.

  With uncouth grins carving their faces, Monty, Stevie, Jesse, and Tom ogled her. Candy linked her arm around Stevie’s elbow and dragged him from the flirty recital. I resisted the urge to turn to see if Michael was also mesmerized. I didn’t have to wonder for long. With precision Dee had orchestrated her advancem
ent by finagling her hips in his direction. When the music concluded, the puppet strings snapped. I stifled a tinge of envy as she plunked down on Michael’s lap, and he smiled at her with perfect teeth.

  Go figure.

  Jesse held up a doobie the size of a cigar, luring them like deer to a salt lick. Dee’s lips curved downward as Michael shoved her to her feet and sauntered to the prized joint.

  They joked and admired Jesse’s excellent magnitude for getting high, and when a pink-faced Monty handed it to me, I spurned the offer.

  One vice at a time. I was barely handling the brew. My sensible side never fully forsake me.

  I’d been leaning on a stone pillar, observing from afar. Each swig of my third beer abolished my pent-up inhibitions. And as music bled into my pores and bound my spirit, I smoldered with an intensity unbecoming my nature. When an awesome song piped up, so did Dee.

  I couldn’t contain myself and wiggled to join the lively jive. A budding snicker rumbled my chest as Jesse and Tom roughed in, arms and legs swinging clumsily in their inebriated state. I loved every minute. Jesse was slight and of medium height, not as tall as Stevie and nowhere near Michael’s height. He had soulful brown eyes and his mussed waves of brown hair reminded me of swirls of chocolate frosting. I’d say he was cute if not for the bad case of acne pitting the skin on his face.

  A wasted Stevie and Candy reappeared, adding to the fray. Candy’s mascara had smeared around drowsy eyes, and hair had been teased into a tornado. When she spun, grass stains and schmutz were evident on her white cotton shirt. Stevie’s lips were either sunburned or smudged with cherry lipstick.

  Yuck. Her kissing my brother. Yuck.

  I endeavored to mimic Dee’s shifting body parts with modest results. Her hair splashed her face as she’d synchronized each toss of her head to the musical beat. She then arched backward as if being towed by an enigmatic force.

  Rough competition. Taking a back step, I came in contact with something hard. Sinewy fingers landed on my shoulders and stroked the length of my arms to my elbows.

  Michael.

  Butterflies skittered in my stomach and foreign sensations spread through me like wildfire. His hot body pressed into my back. We moved together, slow and easy.

  When a breeze swept under the shelter carrying crumpled leaves, I veered my face into the cooling wind. I detected a wink of black and white.

  “Oh shit, man,” someone said, “hide your beers. It’s the pigs.”

  Michael snatched the can from my hand and trashed it. The squad car drove by the shelter at a snail’s pace. Metallic sunglasses blocked the cop’s eyes as his neck craned from the window in our direction.

  “Act natural, man,” Monty said, his voice sandpapery. He waved to the policeman.

  My blood petrified in my act of being natural, and his daring nerve pissed me off. Sneaking out of school was enough ammunition for grounding. The crowning event for being arrested for underage drinking and illegal drugs would result in being locked away until my eighteenth birthday.

  CHAPTER 3

  The cop dipped his chin in response to Monty’s gesture and rubber tires crunched over pebbles, deviating to tarred streets.

  “Yeah, man!” Jesse rejoiced as if they’d won a jackpot.

  The boys raised their arms—high-fiving, bumping shoulders, and performing all that adolescent stuff that boys do—while congratulating themselves for not getting arrested. Meanwhile, battling a sour pit in my belly, I sobered rather quick and shuffled to the nearest bench.

  “That pig isn’t stupid, man,” Stevie said. “He’s giving us a break.”

  “You’re right,” lanky Tom agreed while hiking up his jeans, which had the tendency to slide below his bony hips. “Some pigs aren’t so bad.” His skinny fingers combed greasy strands off his cheeks and clipped the hair behind Dumbo-sized ears. Then he tweaked his glasses up the ridge of his nose, distorting his eyeballs behind coke-bottle lenses.

  Cutey Michael dropped next to me on the bench. His arm brushed mine, causing a tingly current to run across the nape of my neck. Extending long legs, he crossed one ankle over the other, revealing bare feet.

  “Aren’t you cold?” I pointed to his naked toes.

  “I’m hot blooded.” His eyebrow quirked, and a delicious smile clung to the corners of his lips.

  Butterflies are back.

  “Wanna drag?” He offered me his cigarette.

  “Ahmm…” I wavered, peering at the tobacco filled cylinder. I hadn’t smoked a cigarette, or anything else for that matter, yet. It looked like a really cool thing to do. All the popular kids smoked.

  “Don’t start,” Michael said before I could reply. “It’s a nasty addiction.” He removed the temptation.

  To fake indifference, I flipped my wrist to check the time on my watch and wrenched upright. It was getting late, and I needed a ride home, but my ride was busy gnawing on Candy’s mouth. “Steve.” The urgency in my voice only added to my nerdiness. Someday I’d get it right.

  I went over to my brother and jabbed his shoulder. He turned, smacking his lips.

  “I have to peel potatoes.” I could tell by his eyes that my rushed words weren’t registering. “For supper,” I said.

  Stevie and Candy cocked their heads and stared as if I was speaking Russian.

  “So?” Stevie retorted, unfazed. “What’s that got to do with me?”

  He was on the brink of getting skunked. At which point, he’d get confrontational. I self-consciously shifted from leg to leg because I was back to becoming his meddlesome little sister. I sprint my gaze to Candy for support, but even her expression looked crooked.

  Not wanting to make a scene or brand myself as a reject, I would walk the twenty minutes home. I left the shelter at a brisk pace, it was prudent to haul ass or I’d undergo mom’s wrath. I halted for a fraction of a second to peek over my shoulder. Dee had reclaimed her position on Michael’s lap. Slumped over his chest, she’d tied her arms around his neck. I’d seen enough.

  In homeroom the next morning, my legs jangled as I expected to be called to the office. I prayed my fate for skipping out would be detention because I could finagle a way to hide that from my parents. Suspension meant contacting parents and blah, blah, blah. By the completion of second period, I’d learned that the Principal had summoned Dee and Candy. It was a mystery as to why I wasn’t caught. Our table was empty when I entered the cafeteria, and lacking Candy’s guidance, I was unsure if I’d be welcome. Making an obvious choice, I walked toward Debbie and Andrea.

  “Hey, Mary,” a voice called.

  I turned to see Dee zigging around the tables. Hesitant and uncertain, I lingered to see what she was going to say. She might be miserable because she was caught and I wasn’t, or arrogant because she didn’t like me. Either way, her neutral expression wasn’t presenting me with any clues.

  “You’re sitting with us,” she said as she passed with her tray.

  What does she have in store for me?

  Dutifully, I shadowed her to our normal spot and set my tray across from hers, looking outward. An angry pewter sky hung above the athletic fields. Some of the football players were practicing for Saturday’s big game against our rival, Depew High. The once a year pep rally had been scheduled after lunch. The best part was there’d be no afternoon classes. Then the following weekend was Homecoming, an important night. It was a noteworthy night, mainly because Homecoming could either make or break a person in the matchmaking chain for the rest of the year.

  “I’m sorry you got caught skipping out,” I blurted, thinking I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

  Dee lifted an unconcerned shoulder. In doing so, her olive-green paisley shirt stretched at the buttonholes. She seemed to prefer tight clothing.

  “No big deal.” Her cheeks flushed as she absently swirled her fork in chunky potatoes. “They didn’t suspen
d us. Candy and I have detention for the next two days.”

  “Will your parents go ballistic?” I believed it bothered her more than she was letting on.

  “My parents?” she said, her tone had a bite to it. “I’ll tell them I stayed after for extra-curricular activities.” Her eyes strayed over my head, and soon, Gwen and Candy bustled to the table.

  “If I’d known Michael Covington was going to be at the park,” Gwen garbled with a mouthful of mashed potatoes, “I’d have risked detention just to be near him.”

  She repulsed us with a toothy grin, and gooey spuds plopped from the roof of her mouth. Giggling and sputtering, she seized a napkin and scrubbed at the clumps pasted to the border of her lips.

  “Dee has some news.” Candy shouldered the girl sitting beside her. “C’mon, tell.”

  “Mary, I don’t know where you ran off to yesterday, but Michael had to leave for football practice,” Dee stated as if I’d ruined their special moment. “The guys are saying Coach Sidney and the Principal held a meeting with Michael. The scoop is that he played ball for his old school and must’ve been fairly good. I heard Michael was giving them a hard time because he didn’t want to play. I don’t know what made him change his mind, but rumors are flying that Pender isn’t happy with the changes in the line-up.”

  “And the best part is,” Candy added in a gossipy voice, “we think Michael decided to play to piss that narcissist off.”

  “We’re all going, right?” said Gwen.

  I had to think fast. Did I mention the game to my parents? Would they give me a break from babysitting Lucy? As part of their weekly ritual, they spent their evenings at the local watering hole, and I was their built-in sitter. Ordinarily, I didn’t mind, but now I was getting a life.

  “I might have to babysit my sister,” I confessed.

  “You got to get out of it,” insisted Candy. “Ask your parents tonight if you can sleepover at my house. That’ll give us the night because—” She slanted over the table, voice furtive. “—Greg Putnam’s having a party after the game. It’ll be a blast.”