Read Online The Penalty Box by Deirdre Martin - Free Book Online Page B

the headrest with his eyes closed. They drove the rest of the way in tense silence.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said as they rolled to a stop in front of his house, a modest split-level that Katie thought was pretty nondescript. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”
    Katie switched off the ignition. “It’s okay. I can be a little touchy sometimes. I’m sorry, too.”
    The silence returned, but this time it was tense in a new, different way. Katie took a deep breath. She wanted this to be over. No, what she really wanted was him. She’d settle for a candy bar.
    â€œFriday, then?” Paul reconfirmed.
    â€œFriday.”
    â€œThanks for the ride, Katie,” Paul said softly.
    He leaned over and kissed her. Soft enough to be sweet, but just enough pressure for it to mean something.
    Katie’s mind reeled. She’d just been kissed by the boy she used to fantasize about kissing, the same one who used to call her “Bubble Butt” in high school.
    â€œI—I better go. I’ve got research to do at the library.”
    â€œOkay,” Paul said easily, opening the car door. “See you Friday, then. Thanks again for everything you’ve done for me today, especially not killing me.”
    â€œMy pleasure.”
    Â 
    Â 
    Where is Dunkin’ Donuts?
    Katie’s first impulse after dropping Paul off was to head to the nearest Dunkin’ Donuts to drown her confusion in a box of Munchkins and a fresh cup of coffee. Once upon a time, food had been her answer to everything, both good and bad. Get a nearly perfect score on the SATs? Celebrate by eating half a cake. Missing your father? Cram the pain down by devouring a pan of brownies. Katie recognized this impulse for what it was: a way of obscuring the real emotional issue at hand. What was going on between her and Paul van Dorn?
    Katie knew sexual tension when she felt it. Granted, she hadn’t had tons of experience with men, but she had some, and there had definitely been sexual tension between them in her car. Definitely.
    And that kiss . . .
    She closed her eyes, wanting to experience it all over again. It was like watching a movie in slow mo; his body leaning toward her, the brief flash of desire in his eyes, the first press of his lips on hers—all real, all able to be conjured at will. But what, if anything, did it mean ?
    She forced herself to go to the library to work, though concentration was hard to come by. Afterward, she decided to go to the local meeting of Fat Fighters. The earlier impulse toward donuts was a tip-off she needed support. That’s what the group was there for.
    The Didsbury chapter held its weekly meeting in the basement cafeteria of the local Unitarian church. Trying to ignore the faint smell of mildew as she walked down the frayed carpet of the basement steps, Katie came on the scene ubiquitous to every Fat Fighters meeting she’d ever attended: a snaking line of chatting women of all shapes and sizes lined up to weigh in. Taking her place in the line, Katie pulled out her Lifetime member card and waited. It felt like forever before she even crossed the threshold into the cafeteria, where women were stepping on and off scales, their successes or failures dutifully recorded by a Fat Fighters employee. Exultation mingled with desperation depending upon the verdict. Katie watched as one woman preparing to be weighed removed her shoes, socks, sweater, earrings, and wedding band—anything that might lower the number on the scale. It worked: pumping her fist victoriously in the air, she put her clothes and jewelry back on and went to sit with the rest of those who’d been weighed and were waiting for the meeting to begin.
    â€œPsst! Katie!”
    Shocked to hear her name, Katie looked out on the sea of folding chairs to her left. There sat Denise Coogan, the transsexual, waving to her.
    â€œI’ll save you a seat,” Denise mouthed, putting her Gucci bag