Before the Boys Say No Read online

  “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for how those girls treated you,” he said softly.

  I whirled around, quickly swallowing the whipped topping. “I’m used to it.”

  “You shouldn’t be. I don’t understand why they get like that.”

  I gave a slight frown. “Why they get like that? Exactly how long have you been here? I thought you just moved.”

  “A couple of weeks ago. Lanie lives next door, so she’s been great to introduce me to some other kids here. Plus, I started football practice.”

  “Does my father know you’re planning to play football?”

  “Of course,” he said with a smile. “He’s going to work around my schedule.”

  “Hmm,” I replied and crossed my arms. “I’m surprised he hired you. I mean, football’s going to take up a lot of time--”

  “Yeah, but I’ll work all I can. I really need this experience.”

  “Why? You gonna open up a pizza parlor?” I asked sarcastically.

  His face grew serious. “Actually, my dream is to open a restaurant in Italy one day.”

  I felt like my eyeballs were going to pop out of my head. “Seriously? You want to open a restaurant? In Italy?”

  He nodded and bit his lower lip. I realized I must have offended him with my reaction. “Sorry,” I said. “It’s just--well--it’s just surprising. I mean, you play football and everything.”

  “So football players can’t own restaurants?”

  “Of course. That was stupid of me. I just wasn’t expecting you to say that,” I mumbled. “I gotta get these desserts out.”

  “Yeah. Right,” he said and moved away from me.

  I felt him watching me as I finished squirting big blobs of the whipped topping on the rest of the cheesecake. I spooned a generous amount of mixed berries on each one before arranging them on a tray.

  I saw Dean moving toward the register with a pizza box. That was probably for the girls. I lingered at the counter. I knew Brody was still watching me, but I didn’t want to face the giggling girls again.

  “Bye, Brody,” I heard Lanie yell.

  Brody didn’t say anything. I turned to look at him to see why he hadn’t responded. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were on me. I raised my eyebrows in a silent question. A grin broke his serious expression.

  “You need help carrying out all those desserts?” he asked me.

  “No. I’ve carried even more than this before.”

  Brody gave a soft whistle. “Talented girl.”

  I lifted my apron and gave him a small curtsy. “Well, now, that’s real talent, Mr. Brody,” I replied, using a strong southern accent.

  He laughed. “That’s really good. You do any other accents?”

  “Scottish--and Italian, of course.”

  “You’ll have to let me hear sometime,” he said.

  Dean was crossing back to the grill so I knew the girls had left. I gave Brody a smile and lifted the dessert laden tray, balancing it on my shoulder as I made my way back to the floor. The interaction with Brody had lifted my spirits. I actually had a real smile on my face as I handed out the desserts. Maybe working with him wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  CHAPTER 2

  Let me make one thing clear. Debate is my passion. I mean, when I’m up in front of a judge and the other team is squirming because they don’t have any evidence to refute my arguments, that is pure pleasure. I’m having a problem finding a debate partner though. The other kids feel like I’m too much of a bully and don’t want to be with me. I don’t understand their small minds. I mean, don’t they want to win?

  My team has won state for the last three years. That’s almost unheard of for a freshman to win. At first, I had kids clamoring to be on my team. I guess they have a problem with my big fat mouth. If they make a mistake during a tournament, I make sure they understand in no uncertain terms what those mistakes were and how to avoid them in future debates. My debate coach pretty much lets me run my debate team. I’m that good.

  So here’s the dilemma. Without a partner, I’m not going to be able to debate. Even Sue Nelly won’t agree to partner with me. She’s that bad. She would be my last choice for a partner. But Jason Partridge picked her. That really irks me. I’m left with one option. I’m going to have go out and find someone without any debate experience and train them. That really stinks.

  Mr. Robarb, my debate coach, just shook his head when I told him my plan. He didn’t think it was a good idea but said he would support me. I’m confident enough that I’ll be able to do all the work for my partner, but I’m not confident I’ll be able to find someone who will agree to spend all the time it takes to prepare. Especially if they haven’t had an interest in debate before.

  So, I made my way back to school. A lot of the clubs were meeting over the summer. That was the only hope I had to find someone. The theatre club was my first choice. I envisioned finding someone who could deliver a bold argument in the language of Shakespeare; or perhaps, a soft-spoken southern belle who would argue in the style of Mark Twain.

  What I found were a bunch of loud mouthed kids all trying to outperform each other. They seriously made my big fat mouth seem mild in comparison. Besides, with all that ego floating around, there wouldn’t be room for two of us on a team. Seriously.

  So I headed to the Honor Society. My friend, Johanna, is president of that club. At least the kids in that club are smart and should be able to pick up debate quickly. I don’t understand why that club meets in the summer; I’m sure Johanna told me, but my mind has been too focused on debate--so in one ear and out the other.

  Johanna met me at the classroom door where they were meeting. Her brown hair was neatly braided down her back. She always looked so perfect--and boring. I was so used to her wearing khakis that it was a surprise to see her in a summer dress. She’s pretty slender so she can get away with spaghetti straps.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Hi, Beatrice. What’s up?”

  “I need help,” I said with a heavy sigh. “I need a debate partner.”

  “You still don’t have one?”

  I shook my head. I knew she couldn’t partner with me. Grades consumed her life. She had her sights set on several ivy league colleges and would never risk making less than perfect grades. Even for a friend.

  “Let me check with the others inside,” she said.

  I waited outside the door, swatting at the bees that floated around my head. They were attracted to the trashcan outside the door. I moved into the sun to escape getting stung. I tried to avoid sunlight because I always get burned. It wasn’t long before I felt the sweat run down between my boobs. I frantically fanned myself with my hand. I didn’t want to walk around with sweat stains on my T-shirt.

  Johanna popped her head out the door with a tentative smile. “Sorry, Beatrice. Everyone’s concentrating on grades this year. Hey, you want to come over after work?”

  “I have to close so I won’t get out till about midnight.”

  “Bummer,” she said with a grimace. “Well, call me so we can hang out.”

  “Sure,” I replied and walked away.

  I didn’t have time to hang out. I had already missed debate camp and not having a partner was looming over me. I made my way to the music hall. Surely one of the singing Bluejays would have an interest.

  Mrs. Whittaker answered my knock on the door and held up a finger to her lips. I waited patiently while she listened to the singing onstage. She was as consumed with music as I was with debate. She took great pride in her choir, which typically placed in the top ten in competitions throughout the state. But she had never won first place. When the music subsided, Mrs. Whittaker turned to me. “What can I do for you, Beatrice?”

  “I need a debate partner, Mrs. Whittaker, and wondered if I could ask your students.”

  She frowned, making her wrinkled skin look like a crinkled piece of paper. “I don’t think so, Beatrice. My students need to have their full attention on music.
Besides, isn’t Mr. Robarb helping you with that?”

  “There’s only so much help you can give to someone when none of the other kids wants to be her partner.”

  “Well, I’m sorry about that, Beatrice, but the answer is no.”

  “I don’t understand why you won’t at least let me ask them,” I insisted. “Some of them may be interested in being my partner. I mean, I’ve led my team to win state for the last three years. They may want to be on a winning team for a change.”

  Uh, yeah. Probably not the thing to say to win over Mrs. Whittaker. Her eyes grew hard and her thin lips tightened. I could tell she was having problems restraining herself. “I don’t appreciate that remark, Beatrice. Perhaps you need to evaluate why the other debate students don’t want to be your partner.”

  With that, she snapped the door closed in my face. Mrs. Whittaker had been the music teacher for over twenty years at the school. Most of the teachers were weak in the school. Oh, some acted like they cared, but most were there to just collect a paycheck. All the kids knew that. With such a stern attitude, I decided Mrs. Whittaker probably needed to retire. Only it wouldn’t help me find a debate partner.

  I didn’t even bother going out to the football field where every kind of athlete was meeting. They would be so involved with practice that they wouldn’t have any time to devote to debate. Not that any of them would be interested anyway. Athletes were off limits.

  I passed the foreign language clubs without even bothering to check. I needed someone who could speak English coherently. Math club was a mystery. They had their own language and their minds thought differently. I barely passed my required math classes and didn’t want someone approaching the debate topic with that mentality anyway.

  I popped my head into the art class and decided not to approach that group. They were all wearing oversized T-shirts and were moulding clay into some odd shapes. I didn’t get that and I wasn’t convinced enough that they would get debate.

  I had one group left. The Aggies. That was the name for the kids interested in agriculture. Not that I held any hopes, but desperation will drive a person to extreme measures. They were meeting in a metal building on campus. I’d never been to the building because, go figure, wood working and cow patties are not my thing.

  I peeked inside the building. A long hall stretched before me with several doors to try. I crept in, feeling like I was an intruder breaking into a place I didn’t belong. The whole place smelled like oil. Car oil, not the kind we use in the restaurant.

  I could hear banging in one of the rooms so I thought I’d try that. It was dark except for a flame of fire coming from behind a glass partition that lit up silhouettes of kids gathered round. I waited by the door for a minute. Suddenly, the lights came on to blind my eyes. I rubbed them, trying to make out what was happening.

  “Hey, you shouldn’t be in here without protective gear,” a voice yelled from the other side of the room.

  “Pardon me,” I said as I stumbled into the room full of--frankly, they looked like scraggly cowboys. Some even wore cowboy hats. There were a couple of girls who stared at me with scowls.

  “My name is Beatrice,” I began in my debate tone. “I’m on the debate squad here and, this may sound crazy, but I’m looking for a debate partner.”

  “I don’t think there’s any debaters in here,” one scrawny guy drawled. I didn’t know people talked like that here in Illinois. Maybe it was a farmer thing.

  “No, you don’t understand. I need a debate partner,” I tried to explain.

  “You got the wrong place,” the scrawny guy drawled again. “I think they meet in Building C.” He turned to the group. “Is that right, guys? Building C?”

  I smiled politely and took a breath. “I am on the debate squad. And we meet in Building E. We debate in teams and there are no partners left. I can’t debate without a partner. Is there any of you who would consider being my partner?”

  The guys looked at each other. A couple looked down at the ground and shuffled their feet, grins spreading across their faces. I stood like an idiot in front of those weed-sucking Aggies. The sweat was starting to drip between my bra again. It was a lost cause. I turned on my heel and started making my way to the door to escape. A voice in the back of the room stopped me.

  “This debate stuff. Does it look good if you’re going to be a lawyer?”

  I turned around to face a skinny guy with pimples. It was bizarre to hear that question from someone wearing Wranglers and a plaid shirt. And a cowboy hat. He swiped his nose with his hand as he waited for my reply. I tried not to judge him--you know, that don’t judge a book by it’s cover? I’d been a victim of that a time or two.

  “Are you going into law?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yep. My dad wants me to. Too many farms getting the bad end of the straw dealing with the banks.”

  I didn’t want to hear about his personal life, but I needed to be careful. I actually had a human being in front of me that had a spark of an interest in debate. I didn’t want to mess it up, so I carefully chose my words.

  “Debate is almost mandatory if you’re pursuing law,” I told him. That wasn’t true, exactly, but I consoled myself with the thought that debate could only help someone like him be taken seriously.

  “All right,” he drawled. “I’ll do it.”

  “Okay, great. You do realize it will take time, right? I mean, you’ll have to help me research and prepare for the school year.”

  “All right,” he repeated.

  “Really?”

  It’s not that I didn’t believe in the amount of time spent preparing for debate tournaments. It’s just that I didn’t expect someone, especially an Aggie, to just agree to it that easily. I had to make sure he understood the commitment and wouldn’t leave me hanging in the middle of the year.

  “You understand that you are making a commitment, right? I mean there’s no backing out--not even for all your agriculture stuff.”

  He nodded. “I’ve never backed out of anything my whole life. I just need you to teach me.”

  I smiled and held out my hand. “That’s great. I’m Beatrice.”

  “Jared,” he replied and shook my hand. “Since we’re talking about making commitments, I just want to make sure you don’t back out on me. This is for my future, after all.”

  I felt a gleam of excitement enter me. This guy was committing. More than I had hoped for. I nodded my head vigorously. I wasn’t sure if he wanted us to spit in our hands and shake on it, but I was all in and if he was all in, I had a chance to win state again.

  “That’s great,” he said. “When do we start?”

  Talk about ambition. This guy could be the real deal. “You want to meet me at the library tomorrow morning?” I asked tentatively.

  “It’ll have to be after I milk the cows,” he said. “I could be there about ten.”

  That’d give me three hours before I had to be at work. The library opened at nine. If I got there early and put an hour in before he got there, that would probably work out. I wasn’t much of a morning person--at least I didn’t like to be around people in the morning, so that hour would help me be nice to him when he got there.

  “Jared, let’s do this,” I said in a loud voice, trying to show enthusiasm.

  There may as well have been crickets in the room with the response I got. Everyone just stared at me. I shrugged. I bet if I had a steak in my hand I would have gotten a better reaction. Jared wiped his nose again and held out his hand. I pretended I didn’t notice and started backing out the door. I didn’t want to shake his snotty hand.

  “I’ll let you get back to what you were doing,” I said with a flash of teeth. “See you tomorrow morning.”

  I closed the door with mixed feelings. On one hand, I was thrilled I had a debate partner. On the other, I was taking a big risk with someone who knew nothing about debate. Although, he did say he wanted to be a lawyer, I mused. Perhaps he had already started looking into law practice and had
some kind of idea about opposing arguments.

  I shook off my doubts and made my way back out into the hot sun. I was crossing the campus when--wouldn’t you know it? Brody was carrying his helmet to the side of me, still dressed in uniform. It was the first time I’d actually seen him away from the restaurant. We’d gotten comfortable with each other, sharing laughs and cracking jokes. I’d actually started looking forward to going into work.

  Right now, though, I wished I could be in some other part of the world. Lanie was keeping pace with him, chattering and flashing her pearly whites. I couldn’t escape. He caught sight of me and stopped, waiting for me to catch up with him. I gave him a quick wave and ducked my head, staring at the ground as I passed them.

  “What’s up?” he asked, tapping me on the arm as I strode by.

  “Hey, Brody,” I said quietly. I didn’t stop until I reached the parking lot and climbed into my car. It was an old Volkswagen Beetle that had started showing signs of the blue disease--the paint was slowly being eroded by rust.

  I glanced in the direction where Brody still stood with Lanie. He had a puzzled look on his face and Lanie seemed oblivious to it. Her hands rested on her hips as she continued talking, not missing a beat.

  I gave another short wave and pulled out, wanting to kick my stupid car as it sputtered and shook as I drove away. No use trying to act cool in a car like mine. I should just be happy it didn’t stall on me like it had done on various occasions. That would have been embarrassing.

  I sped off to work. I was almost an hour late and knew my dad was going to ream me. It was worth it. I had a debate partner--sort of. My father wouldn’t understand that, however. I licked my lips nervously as I entered the restaurant.

  Aunt Roma met me at the door. “Get yourself together before your father sees you,” she whispered.

  “Have we been busy?” I asked worriedly.

  “Not too bad. Go.”

  I made it to the bathroom without my father seeing me. Quickly, I pulled my hair into a ponytail and splashed water on my face. No one was in the bathroom so I wet a couple of paper towels and wiped at my armpits. Yuck. I really needed to get some new deodorant.