[Jennifer Cloud 01.0] The Shoes Come First Page 4

  “I know,” he replied, “but then I wouldn’t have this great scholarship at this awesome school where I can meet even more girls to chase after me.”

  Casanova had returned. Just when I thought maybe he was ready to have a steady girlfriend, he pulled the snake card.

  We had decided to go to prom together so Jake wouldn’t have to break any hearts by picking just one girl, and I wasn’t dating at the moment. Most of the boys at school were either afraid Eli would get them for dating his baby sister or were just plain old boring. I was looking for a guy who would make my toes curl.

  Luckily for me, I was blessed with my mom’s long legs and subtle curves. When puberty kicked in, I grew to five seven and made a few heads turn at school. My dishwater-blond hair was introduced to highlights, and I now felt more comfortable around Jake’s cheerleaders. I even made friends with a few of them.

  My prom dress was from Neiman Marcus, a deep midnight blue. My mom told me it made my eyes look like the color of fresh blueberries. I guess that was a compliment from a food connoisseur. The dress had straps that hooked around my neck halter fashion and pushed my boobs up an extra cup size. I was already a 34C—so, Barbie, eat your heart out. I wore my hair up like Shania Twain on her Woman in Me CD and put on a pair of stunning drop earrings. I slid my freshly painted toes into some Jimmy Choo stilettos that I had saved for six months to buy off the clearance rack at Neiman’s. I thought I looked pretty good even without the fairy godmother. I mean, I was always stylish, but tonight I looked hot.

  I needed a necklace that would complete my ensemble. As I looked in the mirror, my old book bag looked back at me from the corner of my bedpost. Was it still there? How did I forget to put it away? I dumped the contents out on my bed: a roll of cherry lifesavers (my favorite), an old movie-ticket stub to see Spider-Man 2 (I went with Jake), some bubblegum lip gloss, and three pennies. And there it was—the necklace from Aunt Elma. The small blue and white diamonds sparkled up at me. The moon was smiling; it was perfect. I put it on and immediately felt a warm, comforting feeling spread over my whole body.

  A sexy whistle sounded from the doorway. “Wow, you look great!” It was Eli; I ran over to give him a hug.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “I didn’t know you were coming home.”

  “I came home to make sure your date is threatened properly.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s only Jake.”

  “I know, Mom told me, but even Jake needs to be warned occasionally. It does take all the fun away. Couldn’t you get a date with a guy I could abuse?”

  “Nope, I feel like going with Jake. The prom will be more fun going with a friend.”

  “Well, don’t put too much faith in Jake. When he sees you in that dress, ‘friend’ may have a new meaning,” Eli said, making air quotes with his fingers.

  “You are so full of crap; I am not Jake’s type anyway.”

  “Whatever you say, sis.” Eli smirked.

  “I think I’m ready.” I turned and headed toward the stairs. Eli jumped ahead of me, propped his hip on the banister, and slid down like he had many times when we were growing up. Jeez, boys!

  “Doo-doo-do, announcing Miss Jennifer Cloud,” Eli introduced me, making little piping gestures with his fingers.

  Rolling my eyes heavenward, I went downstairs. Mom, Dad, and Jake were standing at the bottom of the staircase. They were all looking at me like I was the Queen of England.

  “What?” I asked, knowing full well I looked fabuloso.

  “You look beautiful, honey,” Dad replied with his eyes a little teary.

  Jake just stood there, mouth open, holding a corsage in a plastic box. Eli was standing behind him, mouthing “told you so” to me.

  “You look pretty,” Jake stammered, thrusting the corsage box at me.

  My dad patted Jake on the shoulder and took the box, holding it open for Jake to remove the corsage and slide it onto my wrist.

  “OK now, you know to be home by midnight,” Mom said, snapping a picture. “I know what goes on at these so-called chaperoned dances, and I don’t want you kids out so late, drunk drivers and all.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Jake said, opening the door for me. I walked outside to a black stretch limousine waiting at the curb.

  “Oh my God! Jake, you rented a limo? This is so perfect.” I was in awe.

  “This is senior prom—we should do it right.” He smiled.

  “You’re the best, Jake.” And I gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

  “I know, I rock.” He put his elbow out for me, and I slid my hand through. My mom took a few more pictures, and we were off.

  Prom was held every year at the Four Seasons hotel. It was very glamorous with its high ceilings and sparkling chandeliers. We ate the catered food, talked with our friends about college plans, and danced our hearts out to Bon Jovi. The D.J. announced the next song would be the last slow dance of the evening. I started back to my seat, knowing there would be a long line of girls begging to dance with Jake. Suddenly he grabbed my hand and pulled me close.

  “Jake?” I asked, questioning his choice of partners.

  “Let’s just dance this last one together,” he said. As he pulled me to him, his embrace felt warm and comfy. He was the perfect height, and my head rested on his shoulder. He smelled like Abercrombie cologne. I felt safe. The sound of Madonna’s eighties hit, “Crazy for You” played in the background as we swayed together. I noticed the heads of envious girls turning from around the ballroom, but I didn’t care. Jake was comfortable, like my favorite pair of boots. The fit was perfect, they looked great, and I could wear them for hours without getting a blister. As the music relaxed into the final chorus, Madonna reminded me I was crazy for you, and then Jake, my best friend since fourth grade, did the unexpected. He kissed me. Not one of those short, brotherly kisses I usually get but a long kiss. I was shocked, but I kissed him back. I could hear the bemused gasps of girls all around me. When we broke, the song ended. I looked up at him with confused eyes.

  The room was dim, lit only by soft-side lights and the disco ball hanging over the dance floor, but I could have sworn Jake was blushing. We stood staring at each other, then he seemed to snap out of the dream world that held him prisoner.

  He looked around at the open mouths of the couples dancing close to us and said, “That was pretty good. If I had known you could kiss like that, I would have made my move on you sooner.”

  Van Halen’s “Jump” blared from the speakers, and one of Jake’s buddies from track danced up next to us and gave Jake a fist bump. “Way to go, my man,” he said as he danced off with his date.

  Jake, well aware of the attention we were drawing, said, “Maybe we should get a room here.”

  Crap, the womanizing snake has appeared. “If I had known you were going to treat me like one of your real dates, I would have brought some condoms!”

  I stormed off the dance floor. We didn’t talk on the way home. Jake tried to apologize when we got into the car, but he fumbled for the words, and I wasn’t in the mood to hear them. I fumed silently all the way home. How could he ruin our friendship by thinking I would just put out on prom night? Part of me wanted to remind him of my right hook he had seen in fourth grade, but the other part was secretly having an egotistical moment glorying in the fact that Jake wanted to be with me. Is this the way the other girls feel when he gives them a smidgen of attention? I pushed the thought away and focused on the anger bubbling up in my throat.

  I knew my mom would not be waiting up for details, having already had many prom experiences with my sister and brother, so I asked the driver to drop me off so I could go in through the back door. The limo pulled up to the back of my house. I got out and slammed the door behind me. I marched with purpose, opening the gate to our backyard and letting it bang shut before Jake could reach me. He caught me before I made it to the back door.

  “Jen, wait,” he said. I stopped and turned to meet his gaze. He had his serious face on. The same
one that told Butchie Weston in sixth grade if he didn’t quit talking about my hooters, he would knock his block off.

  “I’m sorry.” He shrugged, but his brown eyes never left mine. “I don’t want to lose my best friend. But these past few months, the thought of not seeing you every day has scared me. Maybe the reason I haven’t picked one girl is because the one I want to be with is you.”

  “C’mon, Jake,” I said moving toward him. “We’ve been friends forever. How can we do the girlfriend-boyfriend thing?”

  “Does that mean you might be interested?” His mouth turned up into an almost smile, and his dimples winked out at me.

  “I don’t know. What about all your other girlfriends?”

  “When I saw you tonight, I didn’t think about any other girl,” he said. “Let’s try, OK?” And then he leaned in and kissed me. His lips were warm and gentle. I knew this would be a huge deal between us, but maybe he was the one. I looked at my toes—did they curl? My stomach was going flippity-flop, and my heart was racing a mile a minute.

  “OK,” I finally agreed, “let’s give it a go.”

  He looked down at me. The full moon shone brightly behind him, making a halo appear around his head. His lips brushed mine, and we embraced each other in a different way than we had in the past. I felt a tingle of excitement spark through my nerve endings like that feeling I used to get on Christmas morning when I would rush downstairs to see what new present Santa had left.

  “I’d better go; the driver has to be back by one o’clock.” I smiled up at him, and he gave me one last good-night kiss. “This was a good prom. Have sweet dreams, Jen.” He turned and left out the back gate.

  Chapter 4

  Was I dreaming? Could my best friend really be my one and only true love? Was he my happily ever after and forevermore? I floated around my backyard like I was walking on air. Before I realized what I had done, I was in the outhouse, sitting sideways, hugging my knees up to my chest, humming the melody to “Crazy for You.” I felt warm and happy all over, like after eating a slice of homemade chocolate cake. I reached up and touched my necklace. The outhouse door was hanging open. Had I opened it? I couldn’t remember. My eyes looked up at the full moon and noticed the perfect circle of moonlight that had given Jake his halo was illuminating the wall of the outhouse. There were several markings carved into the wall. I didn’t recall seeing those before, but then again I hadn’t spent any time inside the outhouse. My legs unfolded, and I scooted in for a closer look. A few cobwebs had found their way inside, along with a light coat of dust. I brushed the dust back, revealing what appeared to be some kind of word. I could just barely make out the primitive carving.

  “Hanhepi,” I read off the wall. All of a sudden, my necklace began to glow. I looked down at the round stone. “What is this?” I asked out loud. “What’s happening? Why am I glowing like a Care Bear?” Then it happened. The outhouse door slammed shut. I jumped to my feet. My heart was pounding with fear.

  “What now?” The ground began to shake. I felt the outhouse start to move. Wind swam around me like a tornado and sucker-punched me in the gut. I couldn’t breathe. I saw a bright light, and then I think I heard myself scream.

  There was a loud crack of thunder, and I was launched out of that damn outhouse onto the ground. The first thing I realized was the ground was not the soft, green grass of my garden; it was gravel. I felt like I had been in a car wreck; my body ached all over.

  “Am I dead?” I asked myself. “Is it my heart? I try to eat healthy. I only put mayonnaise on my French fries sometimes.”

  I looked down. Gone were my beautiful blue gown from Neiman’s and my Jimmy Choo shoes, and in their place, well, it looked like my aunt Agnes’s tablecloth. Aunt Agnes was my mother’s sister and indulged joyfully in her Scottish heritage. She had all kinds of things made from plaid: curtains, pillows, place mats, and even little outfits for her Scottie dog. I struggled to stand up. I had on some kind of pleated plaid skirt and a high-necked, ruffled white shirt with little plaid buttons down the front. White wool stockings scratched at my legs, and—gross!—loafers. Not a cute Sperry-style shoe but an ugly, brown, square thing had replaced my Choos. My feet had never been in loafers before. There was a wool scarf choking me around the neck. I could feel the warmth of the necklace hidden under the frilly white top.

  “Is this hell?” I asked myself out loud. What did I do to deserve to be here? Was kissing Jake the reason? I reached up, and on top of my head was a wool hat pulled down over my Shania Twain hairdo. Damn, that’s going to be a mess to comb out.

  “God,” I called as I struggled to walk down the gravel road. There were no houses in sight, but the enormous full moon hung on the horizon like a beacon of hope. The moonlight glistened off the gravel road, making each pebble sparkle like a bed of pearls. The glow lit the entire area, allowing me to get my footing and scope out the surroundings. I slowly made my way down the rock-strewn road. With each step a crunching sound echoed loudly in the quiet, dark countryside. The gravel road turned into a small dirt trail, and the comforting crunch of stones under my feet dissolved into a ghostly quiet. I could see I was in some sort of field. There was a line of ash and pine trees to my left, and in front of me was a large hill. The shadowy profile of the hill resembled an old man’s face with a big scary nose and pointed chin.

  “Where am I?” I yelled out into the creepy calm. Just as I was about to sit down and cry, I heard horses running in the distance.

  “Hello!” I shouted and moved closer to the trees. A hand clamped over my mouth, and someone grabbed hold of me from behind. I tried to scream and kicked hard, fighting my captor.

  “Quiet, lassie!” a voice commanded in my ear, “or they will hear you.” The voice didn’t sound like a rapist or the devil. But since I had never personally encountered either one, what did I know? There was a slight lilt in his accent, but his words were smooth and his tone was firm, yet soothing. It was a sexy voice, deep with a kind of arrogance that comes from being confident. I struggled, jabbing my elbow into his ribs.

  “Oof,” he responded but didn’t release his firm hold on me. He pulled me back in the shadows of the tree line, and I saw a clearing through the branches. An old-fashioned well sat in the middle of the space. The riders came into the moonlight about thirty yards in front of us. There were four of them, two women and two men. They stopped and dismounted. I could see the women were dressed in long gowns. The first woman turned away from me to assist the other woman. A dark braid descended out from her white bonnet and continued halfway down her back. Her simple blue dress had a white pinafore covering the front, tied at the waist and neck. The other woman was dressed in a beautiful deep-burgundy satin gown with exquisite gold trim and beads that sparkled in the moonlight as she moved. She took off her hat and shook her head of reddish-blond curls as if they had been suffocated by the cap for far too long.

  The two men were dressed in old-fashioned riding clothes. All four of them looked like they had just stepped out of the pages of my English literature book. I couldn’t wrap my head around why these people were wearing costumes. They must have come from a costume party, I speculated loosely. I wasn’t sure what to make of the horses, but rich people in Dallas often went out of their way to be authentic. In fact, last year I read in the Dallas Observer that one of the Maverick basketball players showed up at Mark Cuban’s Halloween bash dressed as Prince Charming in a horse-drawn carriage identical to Cinderella’s and proceeded to escort his high-priced call girl, dressed as slutty Cinderella, into the Cubans’ mansion. The reason it made the paper was slutty Cinderella tried to steal a set of sterling-silver candlesticks that belonged to Mark’s grandmother. She was promptly thrown out, glass stilettos and all.

  I struggled to get free. Maybe these people could help me find the way home.

  “Not yet,” my captor purred in my ear with a firm grasp over my mouth. His body was pushed up against mine, pinning me to the sappy bark of an aging pine tree. His other hand
was securely gripping my arm.

  “You will ruin everything,” he whispered.

  The woman in blue drew water from a nearby well; I heard the crank pull the bucket to the top. They must be in some kind of trouble with the law. Why else would they drink well water? It’s polluted.

  One of the male riders said, “Excuse us, Your Highness, we seek privy in the woods.”

  The woman in burgundy nodded her head, and the two of them turned their backs as the men headed in my direction. I could tell this was a dilemma for my captor, because he froze solid as a stone statue. I was about to make a noise and reveal our hiding place when one of the men stood directly opposite me and dropped his drawers, exposing me and my captor to his rather large penis. He grabbed it in his small hand and proceeded to pee on the tree trunk. The other man waited with his back to me, keeping his eye on the two women.

  “Do you think they will catch us?” the exposed man asked.

  “No, I think naught. We have gained serious ground on them today. But I am worried for our queen. France has shunned her, and I fear her cousin will not be kind.”

  “Do ye think they will execute us if we are caught?” he asked, shaking his member and securing the beast back in his pants.

  They changed positions, and the other man watered the tree. Thankfully, his penis was blocked from view by a large bush.

  “A dinnieken, we would certainly be worthy of a trial first and imprisonment for sure. No worries, lad, we are not in the Dark Ages. It is the year of our Lord 1568.”

  The year 1568. My head began to swim, and I felt as if I might faint. My captor must have sensed my weakness, because he purred into my ear, “Shhhh.”

  The men returned to the well. After they had each taken a drink from the water, one of the male riders said, “We must go, Your Highness.”

  “But I am so tired. Can’t we rest here?” asked the woman in the beautiful gown.