A Pocketful of Gems

Chapter 7: a pocket full of rye - Part 2

I trudged through the halls towards my after lunch class, drained; having not received the necessary kisses needed to revive my energy supply.

"Gem," Spencer's arm encircled my shoulder, pulling me backwards against him. "You got a minute?"

"Um, sure," I let him carry me away from my classroom door and down the hall to where a pillar jutted out the wall between classrooms. He pushed me behind it.

"Hi," he smiled all goofy and cute. I melted against the pillar.

"Hi."

"So, um, I was thinking, if you're not busy later we should go out."

"Oh," I inhaled sharply, "wait, go out as in hang out together at a place that's not our house or go out as in a date, the date."

"Yea, that," he laughed softly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Your dad moves out tomorrow, while we have hope it's not a permanent move, we're not sure how long he'll be out the house for, it'd be nice if he was able to see his little girl off on her first date and I'm sure he'd like to do the brooding dad thing when I bring you back late."

I smiled sincerely, "yes, he certainly would."

"Then tonight, I'll pick you up at six?" he asked.

"Yea," I nodded, "um, Spencer, why so sudden? And don't say it's for my dad."

"Well," he took a step back, "hello Mr. Andrews."

I looked around the pillar at the teacher. He looked surprised.

"Um, hello, Spencer, Ms. Hazelwood," he lowered the papers he'd been reading. "Shouldn't you two be in a class? There's no kissing allowed in the halls so take it out back."

He patted Spencer on the shoulder with his papers and continued pass us up the hall. I looked up at Spencer.

"What where you trying to do?" he shrugged. He placed a kiss on my forehead and hurried off.

"Pick you up after school for work."

"Okay." I watched him walk down the hall. "Spencer?"

He turned back his shoulders stiff. He gave a quirky smile.

"I love you."

His smile lit up his face.

"I know."

-

"You look great with your hair down," Eve pressed my hair down the sides of my face, "but Spencer likes it when your hair doesn't fall in your face."

"I like it when it's out her face, too." My mom placed her basket of hair clips on the dresser.

Mom and Eve were getting me ready for my date. They weren't helping me so much as they were dictating everything. I was content to let them do their thing; I trusted them to do a good job.

We were in my parents' room, now officially mom's room. Dad, who'd been sleeping in the guestroom, was fuming somewhere downstairs. He was not happy. According to him, he'll never be happy ever again.

Eve pulled my hair to the top of my head.

"No," mom came to stand beside her, "not so high. Maybe to the side of her head below her ear in one of those whatever you call them."

"Chignon?"

"Yea!" Eve loosened her grip on my hair and coaxed the curls into a pile behind my right ear. "Oh, yea, that's it."

"It's down but not in her face."

"Perfect," mom laid out some clips, "these go with her dress."