I always get what I want. I wanted riding lessons. I now have two horses. I wanted to go to Harvard. I am a part-time Pre-Law student at only eighteen. Call me persistent. Call me spoiled. I just always get what I want.
Now I know that you’re thinking. That this is awfully elaborate way to get attention. But that isn’t exactly what I want. What I really want right about now is to find a way to make Max Jenkins look at me. Not just
at
me but at
me
. And I always get what I want.
***
I could feel him watching me from across the street. I knew that he was one of those black-on-black shadows. I searched for some detail to make him stand out. One shadow darker or taller than the rest, perhaps? I felt his eyes upon me as he stood in his niche somewhere among the tall bushes. The streetlight didn’t work that night, but that didn’t stop him. My blinds were open; little did I know that he was not alone. He convinced Danny to come out with him. Danny almost hadn’t followed him out. But they were both there now and time was on my side, not theirs.
I remembered the first night he hid out there. The streetlight cast just the right amount of light to allow him to stand against the bushes.
I finally had him right where I want him. I squeezed my eyes shut slowly and waited for the throbbing behind them to lessen.
What a time for a headache. I know just the thing to get the endorphins working.
I couldn’t help thinking of study hall that day. I couldn’t help being proud of myself. I couldn’t resist the impulse of wanting him although I knew he wasn’t exactly in my league and Daddy would be so angry. If he ever found out.
“Don’t kid yourself. She hears everything. She’s sitting there trying to act like she doesn’t. Every word. Like radar.”
Danny piped up, “You mean like sonar?”
“Yeah whatever.” Max sat back in his chair, slightly angry at being one-upped by his best friend.
I fought the urges to correct him and laugh when I heard him being corrected. I turned the page in my notebook and continued writing. If only he knew I was writing about him. Thankfully there was enough distance between us so he couldn’t see the page where I began signing our names. Max and Bobbi Jenkins. Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell Jenkins. Mrs. Bobbi Jenkins. Bobbi Russell-Jenkins. Filling twenty-three wide-ruled lines. And on the very last line, not even looking like it was in my writing, till death do us part.
Danny looked down to the end of the table. I felt him watching as I turned the page and continued writing.
“Right, Bobbi?” Max asked again.
“You are so cruel! You know how crazy she is about you. Just let her be, Max.”
Yeah, Max. Don’t you know? I’m just crazy about you. Everyone else knows why can’t you figure it out? Don’t worry. Soon I’ll get my revenge for all the stupid jokes that you pulled and I fell for. Soon I’ll have you eating out of my hand.
“Danny-boy, she ain’t stupid. She also ain’t the only one who can act. Dude just watch.” Max Jenkins waved his hand at his buddy to ask for patience while he demonstrated. “Right, Bobbi?”
I forced my reaction, snapping my head up like someone who was called on while they were goofing around in class. “Huh? What?”
“Right, Bobbi?” Max smirked.
“Right, what?” I said with a perfectly blank, innocent look.
How many detentions had I skipped out on because of that look? I thought to myself. All I could do was think about my plan.
Soon, you’ll be eating out of my hand.
I thought. A slow smile slipped but I knew no one was looking.
Then you’ll know what it feels like to want.
That night was my best performance ever.
In front of my open blinds, I unzipped my green pleated skirt and wiggled out of it. I turned to the side just enough to show him that I was wearing a thong, if even from his distance he couldn’t tell it was satin. Placing my foot on the cushion of the window seat, I rolled one thigh-high stocking down over my knee slowly and deliberately.
I’ll see to it that he wants me as bad as I’ve wanted him all these months
. Plucking it from my pink-polished toes, I snapped the stocking like a whip and when it unrolled, let it flutter to the floor in the lamplight.
He’d better be paying attention
. I knew it wouldn’t be long. All I was waiting for was the doorbell.
What if he told someone where he was going? What if he’s not alone out there?
I wondered if I would find out the answers to those questions.
I turned the ceiling fan on and twisted the dimmer switch. While the fan whirled quietly in the background, the softened light added a hazy glow. I didn’t want to show him everything. Just enough to get him to come to the door. I could handle the rest once I had him where I wanted him. I opened the window to my left to let some air in. I also wanted him to hear the music. After all, what good is a floorshow without the proper accompaniment? I had already positioned the speakers so they faced the windows but were invisible from the outside. A gentle breeze blew in, causing the plastic grip on the pull cord to clatter on the windowsill. I pulled the cord slightly and tied it into a slipknot to make it stop. My mouth was dry, and my tongue felt heavy. Patience was not one of my virtues. I wanted to just open the front door and yell into the darkness, “Will you just get in here!”
I decided I needed something to drink and decided to make a quick trip to the kitchen.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, the telephone screamed out at me from the darkness. I went into the kitchen and reached for the phone. It was not on its base. It rang a third time. Glancing around the kitchen, I found all of the stainless steel appliances winking back from the moonlight streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows.
Must be a full moon. Damn this headache.
The granite countertop was cold and smooth as I touched the phone base to make sure I wasn’t imagining that the phone wasn’t there.
I turned to the dining room and found the slick cherry table set for a party that had not even been planned yet. All eight chairs held folded linen napkins. Not there either. It rang a fifth time. I walked into the living room and heard it near the trophy case.
Who the heck left it here? Must have been Mother when she dusted.
As I opened the front door to the farmer’s porch, the automatic light turned on. I sat down with a slap on the wooden decking and was shortly sidetracked.
“Russell residence, Roberta speaking. May I help you?” I said into the phone, feeling the wood threaten me with slivers.
“Bobbi? Hey! What’cha doing’?”
“Not much, Dee. I couldn’t find the phone. Sorry.”
“Yeah, well, remember the assignment that we had in Geometry? I guess I forgot to write it down.”
“Hang on. Let me get it.” I put the phone down on the step and went inside. The storm door hissed shut behind me. I grabbed my book, found the page, and sat back on the porch step. Sitting with my back towards the house, facing the street, I stretched my legs out in front of me. “Dee? You still there?”
“Go ‘head, shoot.”
“We had to do page two-twenty-five, numbers seven through twelve. Eleven and twelve are
really
long proofs. I had a page for each of ‘em! And then we had to do page two-twenty-eight, numbers three through ten. Those are easier but still long.”
“Alright. Two-twenty-five, seven to twelve. Two-twenty-eight, three to ten?” Dee repeated.
“That’s it.”
“Oh-my-God, Bobbi. You would never believe what happened. I found out at lunch that Amy thinks she’s pregnant.”
“Are you serious?” I felt my hands clench the phone and the plastic gave an odd clicking squeak.
“Yeah, she was freaking out.”
“With Steve?”
