Danny, Phillip, and I are sitting on the hood of Phillip’s car in the parking lot of the baseball field, drinking and eating sunflower seeds. The salt’s burning my lips, but it doesn’t stop me from sucking it off the seeds. I had an early softball game and then stayed to watch the boys’ baseball game against Park City, a neighboring small town. Everyone else has left, so the lot is dark and deserted.
We haven’t left because we are still trying to figure out what we’re going to do tonight.
We live in Westown, Nebraska. It’s a small town, not far from Omaha. My parents say we are really lucky because we get the best of both worlds—small-town life with big-city amenities. Westown has an old downtown and a newer part up by the highway that goes through town. This little strip consists of your basic small-town stuff—bank, bowling alley, ice cream store, and gas station. This is the area we cruise when there is nothing better to do.
Which is a lot.
Down the highway a little farther are Johnny’s Pizza, the high school, and the viaduct that takes you out of town.
Tonight, there is a party at Billy Prescott’s house, and a bunch of the guys on the baseball team are going up to Johnny’s for pizza first.
It’s a small town, and if we feel like going out, those are our only real options.
Actually, that is not true.
I mean, there’s an infinite number of places we could go and things we could do. We just say that because we like to complain that there is nothing cool to do around here. I am assuming that other teenagers say the same thing even if they live somewhere amazing, like Paris or New York.
The problem tonight is that the boys aren’t motivated to go home and change.
And, personally, I have no desire to go anywhere. I love hanging out with them.
Our backs are against the windshield, and we are staring at the brilliant stars. It’s a clear, warm summer night, and you can see millions of them.
Oh, in case there are any men out there freaking out about Phillip’s paint job, please note that we are sitting on a blanket to protect it.
Phillip loves his car.
It’s a very nice car, although I forget what kind it is. But, since it’s blue, I really don’t care. I mean, if you are going to go to the trouble of having a car, shouldn’t it be red?
Red cars are so sexy. I am so hoping for a red one soon. I really want a red Mustang convertible, but I’m sure I will get something boring and reliable, like a four-door something or other.
I keep hinting to my parents about getting me a car. I turned sixteen three whole months ago.
They say they have taken it under advisement.
I’m pretty sure that means no.
We are just sitting here, spitting seeds and chatting occasionally.
That’s one of the things I love about hanging out with boys.
They don’t feel the need to fill every second with words and talk.
Like my girlfriends.
Sometimes, they talk so much, it makes my head hurt.
Speaking of girlfriends, it’s Friday night.
Girls’ night.
I’m truly breaking a cardinal rule by not being out with them. I’m pretty sure it’s written in our town’s laws that Friday night is girlfriend night, and Saturday night is date night. Kind of like in Footloose, where there is a stupid town law against dancing.
You know what my favorite part of that movie is?
Well, duh, it’s definitely not the dancing. I love her red cowboy boots. I mean, I know I sort of live in the country, but I don’t own even one pair of cowboy boots. Someday, I’m going to buy myself a pair of red ones, just like the ones in the movie.
Hey, they could match my red car!
Sorry. Where was I?
Oh, yeah.
I sort of had to lie to Katie and Lisa about what I was doing tonight. I couldn’t really tell them I was just hanging out with the boys. They would’ve given me a hard time. Besides, they were going to a party some Park boys had invited them to, and I thought that could only lead to trouble. And, since I’m lobbying so hard for a car, I have to be responsible. I have been very responsible lately and have not gotten grounded in four months.
Which is like a record for me.
And I’m really quite proud of this accomplishment.
Besides, even though it’s supposed to be girlfriend night, all they want to do is go out and look for boys. Or talk about them. Why can’t it be friend night, and why do girls think they can only be friends with other girls?
The only time one of my friends has any interest in being a boy’s friend is when she has her sights set on him as a boyfriend. First, she pretends to want to be his friend, so he will notice her. And, sometimes, they even do become friends, but once she accomplishes that, she will try to make him her boyfriend.
I don’t get it.
Danny finally breaks the silence. “So, you’re missing girls’ night out, huh, Jay?”
“What exactly do you guys do anyway?” Phillip asks.
“Usually drive around town and look for cute boys,” I reply.
Danny wonders aloud, “Then, how come, when we drive around, looking for you, a lot of times, we can’t find you? It’s like you’re nowhere to be found.”
“Well, sometimes, we go to other towns and shop for imports.” I grin.
“Imports?” Phillip questions as he spits a seed.
“Yeah, that’s what Lisa and Katie are doing tonight. Going to the party in Park. They’re not happy with the current supply of boys here, so they’re shopping for imports. Get it?”
“You know, I’ve heard them say that before, but I always thought you guys were looking at, like, BMWs,” Phillip says, shaking his head.
“You would,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Girls are goofy,” Danny states. “And I thought Katie was dating Neil.”
I shrug. I have no answer for that. ’Cause she is. But she was seriously crushing on the cute third baseman from Park City, so she was hoping sparks might fly at the party tonight. And then Neil will probably be history, which is too bad. Neil is a sweetheart.
“So, let me get this straight,” Phillip says wisely. “On Saturday night, you go out with your boyfriend, and on Friday night, you go out and look for your new boyfriend.”
“That pretty much sums it up,” I say. “Or try to see what your current boyfriend is up to. You never know. He could be out with another girl. Speaking of that, Danny, did you tell Tiffany you would be hanging with me tonight?”
He shakes his head.
“I didn’t think so. But I understand because that’s the thing with girls; you could tell her you’re gonna hang out with me, and it would turn into one big jealous mess.
“Phillip, your girlfriends always get mad at you about that. It’s just easier not to tell them. They tend to be so dramatic. I mean, either they are crazy in love or terribly jealous or got dumped or can’t get the guy they like to notice them. And, God forbid, if he finally does notice them, they get together and have a one-night stand, and then he doesn’t call, then they feel even worse.”
I don’t say it because this is top-secret girl knowledge, but this happened to Lisa recently. This older guy she had been crushing on forever talked and flirted and kissed her at a party, and then he offered to take her home. I tried to tell her not to go with him, but she didn’t listen. And, of course, they went parking. She was a little drunk, and, uh, well, things happened. One-night stand kind of things. Losing her virginity kind of things. Then, he never called. She has been beating herself up about it for weeks. So, I’m hoping she will meet a nice, cute boy in Park City to restore her faith in men.
“Whoa,” Phillip says, suddenly very interested in what I’m saying. “Go back to the one-night stand part.”
“Yeah,” says Danny. “Who’s having one-night stands, and why aren’t they having them with Mac and me?”
I can’t help but laugh at Danny on that one because, well, I guess he’s not a one-night stand kind of guy. He’s more the guy that you date for a week, fall in love with, and have sex with, and three weeks later, it’s probably over. And, somehow, it’s okay with you because you had three glorious weeks with him. And you would do it all over again.
Typically, girls hate guys like this. They feel used or taken advantage of. But not Danny’s girls. They all love him, even after he leaves them. That leaves most of us wondering, How does he do it? I’m sure, if we did an in-depth investigation into this phenomenon, we would find out it’s some kind of magic combination.
Killer abs + devil grin + easygoing, aw-shucks attitude + sparkle + great arms + amazing kisser + star quarterback + dreamy blue eyes = irresistible.
He is so cute.
“Jay,” Danny says, interrupting my thoughts. “Hello? Pay attention. We are talking about one-night stands.”
I can’t tell them about Lisa. So, I make up something.
“Oh, uh, well, maybe not one-night stands actually. I mean, sometimes, there is sex involved, but usually, it’s just that maybe there is an older guy that a girl crushes on, and he pays attention to her at a party and offers to take her home, but of course, they end up parking, and she just does more with him than she planned, and then he never calls. Or even worse, he’s a total gentleman, and they just talk and kiss, and she thinks he’s the one, and then he never calls. All I am trying to say is that, when I go out with the girls, we can’t just sit peacefully on the hood of a car, stare at the sky, and enjoy life. They are always stressing and obsessing about something. They dissect every conversation, every stare, every word.”
“You’re a girl, and you’re not like that,” Phillip tells me. “Maybe you need some new friends.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I think that they’re probably normal and that I’m just weird.”
“Yeah, well, we know that,” Danny teases and then pelts me in the face with a wet sunflower seed from his mouth. “But we love ya anyway, Jay.”
