Chapter 31 Heaven
Heaven
The party actually goes really well. For me at least. It’s a lot of chaos, but Mrs. Ford is really on top of it. She splits the kids into groups to get their pictures taken, decorate a T-shirt, and get a tattoo from me.
They sit like champs while I draw on their arms. Some of them are chatty and ask me questions like how old I am.
Some of the kids don’t say anything, and that works out just fine for me.
Only one girl’s dad refused to let her get a beach day kitten tattoo even if it’s temporary, so I give her the flash sheet to take home.
She wants me to sign it, which I do, and then all the kids want their T-shirts signed by me, Marci, and Lupe. It’s silly, but we have fun.
Saylor checks on me a bunch of times, but she’s helping her parents wrangle tweens.
Mrs. Ford is running around the whole time, camera in hand.
We all agreed to be filmed and be in whatever content she makes, but I have to admit having her recording is my least favorite part of the event.
It’s distracting and kind of intrusive, even if I get that she’s just trying to document her kids’ party.
It’s hard to forget she’s not documenting it for the kids, but for her millions of followers.
I keep my head down and work. Kittens frolicking in the sand are serious business.
The next portion of the night is dinner and a movie.
Mrs. Ford pays me and tips me a little more for being such a good sport with the kids.
I think about taking off and dragging Saylor with me down the street, even if it’s just for ten minutes of quiet, but Mrs. Ford offers to feed me, Marci, and Lupe, and the focaccia bread pizza she has brought in looks pretty dang good.
Marci and Lupe decline. They were only hired for the backyard portion of things. They get right to heading out while Saylor and I load up our plates and go sit on the front steps and eat.
The sun is going down and taking a lot of the heat with it.
“What do you think of your first Cristine Ford event?”
“Second. I did come by for winter formal,” I remind her. “Even if I didn’t come inside.”
“Yeah, and you never came back.” Saylor laughs.
“Well, it was fun and terrifying, kinda like this.”
“My mom knows she does the absolute most, but she said she never wants us to feel like she isn’t celebrating us at every chance.”
“I can see that. Do you feel celebrated?”
“Not really. I feel used most of the time, but we always have good pictures and who doesn’t love a goodie bag.”
“Getting paid is nice too,” I add, trying not to react too hard to the idea that she feels used.
“What are you gonna do with all that money in your pocket?”
“The usual. More art supplies, a bit in my savings so I can trick my parents into thinking I’m responsible. Might buy a new pair of Jordans. Treat you to some Mountain Dew.”
“Now that’s romantic.” Saylor laughs.
“I’m sorry I didn’t check with you about sleeping over.”
Her smile softens, and she bumps her knee with mine.
“It’s okay. I told her I didn’t want to sleep here because my sisters’ friends will be cool for like five seconds and then at three a.m. they’ll be outside my bedroom door playing pranks or just trying to get me to tell them what older boys are like.
I don’t know—I mean I do know—it just irritates me that she asked you to stay over without telling me.
But what can I do? My mom always gets her way, and I don’t know why I thought it would be any different when it came to you. ”
“Not sure I like the sound of that.”
“Welcome to my world.”
I glance down at my phone and remember what my mom said. Come home if things get weird. Nothing life threatening has happened, but things do feel weird.
“Do you want to go back to my house?” I ask.
“Yes!” Saylor says, letting out a deep sigh. I shoot my mom a quick text telling her the change in plans. She never looks at her phone in the theater, but she’ll get the heads-up when she checks it in the car.
“Come on.”
We go back inside and tell Mrs. Ford we’re leaving. She’s standing in the kitchen keeping a watchful eye as tween feeding time unfolds.
“Your dad got the inflatable all set up,” Mrs. Ford says as this girl Mazie runs up and asks for more pizza. Mrs. Ford fills her plate and then turns back to Saylor. I don’t miss the annoyed look that quickly passes over Mrs. Ford’s face.
“All the hard stuff is done and they’re twelve, not six. You don’t need us,” Saylor says.
“I told Maurene she could have the night off.”
“Okay, well, we are also not six. We’re just gonna go back to Heaven’s and watch a movie.” Saylor has a point, but I’m thinking about setting my hair on fire if it’ll stop this conversation from going the way it’s going.
“Fine, Saylor.” Mrs. Ford turns her smile back on and looks at me. “Make sure you get a cupcake, a goodie bag, and a shirt. Thank you again.”
“Thank you. I had fun.”
“See, Saylor? She had fun.”
Saylor rolls her eyes and grabs my hand.
We go up to her room so I can grab my duffel and she can pack up some overnight clothes.
I feel not great. I kind of want to stay because again we are always at my house, but I don’t want Saylor to be upset, and I definitely do not want to be in the middle of more of whatever that was down in the kitchen.
I have a fleeting thought of how lucky I am that my parents and I don’t argue like that, but the thought is gone as soon as I hear Saylor’s voice.
“I just gotta grab my toothbrush. And then we can go make out.” She whispers the last part.
“Okay, yeah, we can definitely go back to my house.”
Saylor laughs and swings around the corner. I took a few pictures from the day and start looking through which ones I should post on my Instagram.
“Are you guys leaving?” I hear suddenly. I look up and see Stella, I think—I actually can’t tell them apart—and this girl Caralynn are standing in the hallway. They both have kitties sunbathing on their arms.
“Uh—”
“Yes, Stink. We’re leaving. Go back to your party,” Saylor says, pushing her way back into her room, all her bathroom stuff in hand.
“But we want Heaven to stay,” Caralynn says.
“Yeah, Heaven’s actually cool. Unlike some people,” maybe-Stella says as two more tweens appear in the hallway.
“Well, she’s actually my friend. And she’s not spending the rest of the night hanging out with you. Go back to your party, Stel!”
Definitely-Stella huffs but turns and leads the other girls back down the hall.
“We should go before they recruit more minions and try to block the front door.”
“Right.” I grab my stuff and make sure Saylor’s good carrying all her things with one good hand, and we head out to my car without anyone trying to barricade us inside.
Halfway back to my house, I realize I’m a little jittery.
Drawing like that for hours was a lot. Seeing Saylor argue with her mom and her sister was a little out of my element too.
I’m not sure why, because I’ve been around for plenty of Jake’s and Axel’s fights with their sisters.
Esther’s made a living out of annoying the heck out of Jake.
Maybe because those times, it had nothing to do with me.
I file those no fun thoughts away and try to focus on what Saylor and I are going to do tonight.
“Hey, are you okay?” Saylor asks.
“Yeah, just my social battery is at like a negative seventy-five. I guess it’s smart we left. I would have crashed in an hour.”
“I didn’t mean to make that about me back there,” Saylor replies. “I know this was a big day for you.”
“No, it’s okay. I mean when I’m actually tattooing, I won’t be tattooing that many people at once. And there won’t be cameras and a DJ, at least I don’t think.”
“Yeah, I think actual tattooing is a little more chill and less loud.” Saylor laughs.
“It was a good learning experience. It was just a lot. Just a bit overstimulating.”
“Well, we can keep it low-key tonight. Here, why don’t we knock out another bingo box so at least my mom can stop guilting me about leaving.”
“That seems fair.”
We decide to knock out the “movie marathon (not The Fast and the Furious)” box.
Saylor pulls up the list of long franchises my dad sent to us, and we decide on all the Friday the 13ths because it’s summertime and that calls for creepy murders at a creepy summer camp.
When we get back to my house, we crash on the couch.
We have at least another hour until my parents get home, so I think we both know we shouldn’t waste that time not cuddling.
We start the first movie, and I begin to feel better the second we’re sitting close together.
Saylor leans up against me, playing with my fingers while we’re trying to settle in to the weird first-person heavy breathing going on along the road to Camp Crystal Lake.
After a while, I can’t really focus on what’s happening on-screen because my foot is falling asleep, but Saylor’s hand is on my thigh.
I nudge her a little just so I can adjust, but Saylor pulls me closer.
She leans back on the far end of the couch, and somehow I end up on top of her, settled between her thighs, my head resting on her boobs.
I feel hot all over and try not to make any sudden movements, but I can’t ignore the shaky breath that slips out of Saylor.
I look up at her, and she is totally looking at my lips.
I scoot up just enough and then we’re kissing.
I feel like I can hear the ocean crashing in my ears, and every inch of my body is warm and humming.
I don’t want to stop, and from the way Saylor is kissing me back, I don’t think she wants to either.
Things start happening. Like, those things.
In the back of my mind, I’m not entirely sure we should be doing those things on the couch, but logic is not getting through the fog in my brain.
I don’t know how long it goes on, but I do know what a car door sounds like, and I know we have like ten seconds before my parents come walking into the house.
I catapult myself to the other side of the couch.
Saylor sits up and checks the back of her hair.
Her braid crown is still intact. Just a bit smooshed.
I fix my shirt and smooth my edges back as the dogs hop up and rush to greet my mom and dad.
“Children!” Dad calls out.
I swallow and try to breathe. “In here.” They both come strolling into the living room, and I have to give it to Saylor, she is right back to her bubbly self.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hey, Saylor,” Mom replies. “Ford-based slumber party was a bust?”
“Yeah,” I reply. “Decided to escape the middle school madness.”
“Smart.”
“Oh, this one’s a classic,” Dad says, looking at the TV. One of the camp teens is being murdered, which I know is supposed to happen, but I have no clue what else has happened up to this point.
“Yeah, we figured we’d start on the movie marathon square,” I say.
“Well, Saylor, we’re happy to have you with us for at least another twenty hours,” Dad says.
Saylor laughs. “Thanks. Happy to be here.”
“We’re just gonna finish this and then we’ll watch the next one in my room.”
“Did you grab the air mattress?” Mom asks.
“Not yet.”
“I’m on it,” Dad offers before he rushes out of the room.
“If either of you want ice cream, follow me into the kitchen,” Mom adds. I didn’t even realize she was carrying a bag. I don’t care about ice cream, but I think neither of us want to look suspicious. We load up on ice cream and go back to opposite ends of the couch.
It was a close call, but I regret nothing. The closer Saylor and I get, the more I want to be with her, and the harder it’s going to be to keep this under wraps.