Chapter 3

I worked as a day-camp counselor to try to earn money during the summer. Because I was only 16, I spent most of my time with the 5- and 6-year-olds. I hadn't been around kids much, but it was fun. We'd spend the mornings doing arts and crafts and the afternoons at the pool. The kids had a great time and I was having a blast, too.

Suzette and her mom seemed to spend every afternoon at the pool, but because I was responsible for six or seven screaming kids, I rarely got to speak to her or her mother. Suzette seemed to be friends with almost every girl I'd ever screwed over — I guess it was like their own little support group — and her mother greeted me almost with disgust, certainly with disdain, every time I'd see them. By early July, I'd given up hope of getting to know the green-eyed angel next door better. It was just as well, I'd be leaving in six weeks anyway.

I was surprised when Suzette stopped me on my walk home from the pool one afternoon and asked if I want a ride.

I was further surprised when we headed the opposite direction from our houses and stopped at a park at the edge of town. We got out and sat on a picnic table.

"Rumor has it you're dating a college girl," she said. "At least that's the prevailing opinion among your castoffs."

I asked if she'd seen me with any girl older than 7 since she moved in.

"I told them that," she said. "They say it's because she lives in a different state."

I used to treasure being the topic of conversation, but now I was uncomfortable with it.

"You can tell them I am not dating a college girl, or any girl for that matter," I said. "I grew up some over the past few months. I realized what a jerk I am and I'm trying not to repeat past mistakes. I wish I could make it up to some of the girls I've hurt, but I don't know how. After the way I've treated girls in the past, I thought it was best to reassess my priorities before dating again."

"Have you?" she asked.

"Have I what?" I replied.

"Reassessed your priorities," she said.

I told her I was far happier with the way I acted now than I the way I acted in the past, but I wasn't sure if my evaluation was complete.

"Is that why I wasted my time getting all sexed up in my bikini and you didn't even hit on me?" she asked with a grin.

I told her it mostly was from lack of courage on my part.

She had a mischievous grin when she asked, "You mean The Slayer was afraid of a tiny girl like me?"

I told her between her beauty and her mother's glares, I was pretty well terrified.

"So you have no plans to ask me out?" she asked, to which I replied I had thought about it (constantly), but decided against it.

She looked hurt, so I continued.

"Suzette, you're new here," I said. "You've met some people, but you haven't met many. The ones you've met have told you about me. Your reputation would be in the trash before you even started to school here. The rumors would be everywhere, and I won't even be here to tell people they're not true.

"I don't know you well, but from what I've seen you're a great girl who doesn't need to start at a new school with an albatross around her neck."

Our conversation turned to easier topics for a while before we decided it was time to get home.

Suzette's mother must have seen us pull in because she was on the porch before I could exit the car.

I told Suzette thanks for the ride and I waved at Mrs. Crawford, who didn't wave back I might add.

I was in the back yard a couple of evenings later when Suzette came over and sat down. She was wearing a light sundress and she had on makeup for the first time since I'd met her. Not a lot, but enough to cover her freckles.

"Wow, you look pretty," I told her. "Well, you always look pretty, but you know what I mean."

She smiled and seemed to blush.

"I'm glad you think so," she said. "I wanted you to see what I'm wearing so you can pick your clothes accordingly."

I wasn't sure what she was talking about, and I guess it showed on my face.

"I'm picking you up in 30 minutes," she said. "We're going to Clarksburg where you are going to treat me to dinner and I am going to treat you to a movie."

"Suzette, there's no way your mom is going to let you go anywhere with me," I told her. "I got the evil eye when I mowed the grass at the end of our lot yesterday."

She told me to let her worry about her mother and to get my butt upstairs.

"A shower wouldn't kill you either," she said as she headed back to her house.

I sat there for a minute or two until I heard my mother through the screen door.

"Well, get in the shower," she said. "There's a pair of tan slacks on your bed. Don't wear your maroon shirt. Wear that nice green one I got you for your birthday. And for heaven's sake comb your hair."

So, I did. Unbidden, I even brushed my teeth. I was surprised when mom handed me $100. I told her I had money from work, but she insisted, so I took it.

"Pay for the movie, too," she whispered.

I opened Suzette's door for her — and I noticed her mother glaring out the window as I headed to the passenger side.

"Suzette," I said when we were moving. "I don't want to be in the middle of a pissing contest between you and your mom. She doesn't like me — with good reason, I might add."

"I like you," she said with her pretty mouth turned up in a smile. "That's all that matters."

I told her that didn't allay the rest of my fears — specifically about her reputation.

"My concession to you in that regard is the trip to Clarksburg," she told me. "My last boyfriend acted like you used to. He was King Shit at the school. He treated me like crap, but I let him because I got to be Queen Shit at the school. This body only came around last summer. Before that, I was a flat-chest, no-butt geek. I'm still a geek, to tell you the truth. If I thought you were like everyone says you are, I wouldn't be within 20 feet of you.

"Just make me a deal," she said. "Just act like you have since I met you and let me decided if you're worth the risk to my image."

I had to admit it seemed reasonable to me.

"My mom seems to like you," I told her to which she replied, "What's not to like?"

I had to admit she had another point.

Suzette and I had a nice dinner and went to see "Pirates of the Caribbean." I thought it would be lame, but it was pretty funny. She took my hand midway through the film and didn't let go of it.

We ran into one of my conquests in the lobby with her family — that happens when the closest theater is 35 miles away — but Suzette grasped my hand tighter when I tried to pull it away.

The girls talked for a couple of minutes and my former girlfriend even made a veiled attempt to be civil toward me, wondering aloud about my rumored college girlfriend.

I accepted her attempt with as much grace as a 16-year-old trying-to-reform jerk can.

"I did some really terrible things," I told her. "I know that. It doesn't matter now, but I regret acting that way. There is not, nor was there ever, a college girlfriend."

The girl muttered something about leopards and spots and Suzette decided it was time for us to head back.

"I'll call you tomorrow," the girl yelled to Suzette as we were leaving.

In a way, I was relieved we ran into the girl on our first date. I was really starting to like Suzette and I figured this would be a nice way to end things before I wound up hurting her.

"That's what I was talking about," I told her as we headed home. "It's the reaction a lot of girls — and their parents — would have."

Suzette told me she was sure it wasn't going to be the last time someone said something like that to me.

"But it's the last time I'm going to stand there mute and let you handle it. You can bet on that," she said.

I told her she didn't need the trouble, but she reminded me of our earlier deal.

"What, exactly, have you done this evening that wasn't gentlemanly?" she asked. "And I know it wasn't 'first-date behavior' because you act this way around me all the time.

"If you don't want to date, just tell me. I'm a big girl. If you don't like me, I'm OK with that. But stop trying to make my decision for me. I'll decide whether I like you."

I told her it certainly wasn't because I didn't like her and as long as she was OK with things, I'd like very much to see her again.

"How about tomorrow night," she said. "There's a bonfire and cookout. We can make our polite society debut. I know you were planning to go anyway. So was I. So we'll go together, if you want."

Nothing like jumping in with both feet. The annual bonfire was "the" social event of the summer. Last year it seemed as if the whole school was there and I figured more people would show up this year. It was the last summer blowout before football practice started Aug. 1.

If the gossip line wasn't already ringing with reports of our initial sighting, I was sure it would be after tomorrow.

That afternoon, my mom corralled me and sat me down.

"I want to make something perfectly clear," she told me. "That girl seems very sweet. If you hurt her, I swear to God, I'll make you regret it for the rest of your life. I'm going to be stuck living beside that sanctimonious bitch of a mother of hers for quite a while. If you give her a reason not to like you, you'll regret the day you were ever put on this planet."

I assured mom I had no intentions of hurting Suzette — or giving her mother any valid reason not to like me (I didn't view taking up valuable oxygen as a valid reason).

"Mom, I'm sure you've noticed, but I'm not the same as I was a few months ago," I told her. "You were right about me knowing right from wrong. I know the right way to treat people and I'm going to treat them that way."

Mom's glare lost a little of its harshness, but not much.

"Just remember you do," she said.

"I realized a little too late that my actions are a reflection on you, too," I said. "I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for all the crap I've put you through over the past few years. You don't have to worry about me at school next year. I hope I never give you reason to be disappointed in me again."

Mom told me we'd discuss that this week and told me not to wear a ratty T-shirt to the bonfire — which was exactly what I'd planned to wear.

"Suzette is going to look nice," she said. "She always dresses well. You need to, too. And don't wear any red or blue shirts. It'll clash with her hair."

I wound up changing clothes twice before we left the house. And I was forbidden to wear my ever-present baseball cap.

The bonfire was a success — as usual. There were hundreds of kids there and all the guys wanted to know if Suzette was "that college girl you're dating." OK, so most of them used something a little more graphic than dating.

For once, I actually set them straight.

I told them, even when Suzette wasn't around, that she was my new neighbor and that it was our second date. She was a nice girl and I really liked her.

"Nice girl," "liked" and even "second date" were words people who had known me for years rarely heard in their sincere connotation.

Some of the guys thought I was putting them on but most seemed to realize I wasn't when they saw me turn down a couple of girls who wanted to "take a walk."

By the end of the bonfire, Suzette had attained a reputation all right.