Rule #9 (9 page)

“The halter’s dark purple resembles pain, which reminds me of Alicia, who has taken my dad away, which also crushes every hope that my parents will reconcile. The halter also bears a resemblance to a rope that chokes me out of the picture.” Really I thought the top went with the skirt and since I put on the red boots on it first, I had to find something to match. Purple and red match, don’t they?

“Interesting,” Gaby waits for me to go on.

I take a deep breath and blow it out. “I chose the boots because they were the only red shoes in the store. It’s the Dorothy thing. I want to go home, the home that I had before my dad decided to run off with younger women.” Really, the obvious choice would’ve been flip flops, but I didn’t see any, so I grabbed what caught my eye first.

Gaby looks at the mannequin and then at me. “I’m impressed.”

The truth, there isn’t any rhyme or reason why I had done any of it. I wasn’t paying attention. Anger had spread through my body and I needed something to do so Gaby wouldn’t lecture me and take Alicia’s side. I have enough people doing that lately. Now, to make Gaby happy, I complete the interpretation of my feelings.

“Really, Gabs, I would reason that the piece shows the dysfunction in my life. I can’t discern if it’s winter or summer, beach wear or dude ranch attire. Do I accept the change or do I hang on to the past?”

“You’ve rendered me speechless,” she says. “Wow.”

I run to the counter on write on a small piece of scratch paper:
Massie left Gaby speechless.
I add the date and then tape it to the side of the register.

CHAPTER TEN

Vianna, Natalie, and I thought moving our strength class from first to zero period would be a good idea. Actually it was Vianna’s idea, and it made sense. Zero period is only open for gym classes for kids in athletics. We took it because then we’d have first period off, which would allow us to take the required gym class and then give us enough time to clean up before the rest of the day.

The three of us arrived early and are sitting in the locker room stalling. None of us want to run today. “Wendy’s in the hospital,” Vianna says, like it’s no big deal. It’s like she’s telling us she’s going to make a sandwich.

“Is she okay?” I ask. This isn’t something to laugh about, even when it’s about one of the stepmonsters.

Vianna looks around the girls’ locker room, then uses one of the metal locker doors as a shield so nobody else can hear. “Her boob popped.”

Natalie takes a deep breath in, then asks, “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I guess. I really don’t know. I feel bad for my dad, he’s really worried.” Vianna shakes her head. “I don’t think it’s anything that can kill her, though. She’s more upset about her boobs being uneven. She won’t leave the hospital until they fix it. Them. Whatever. What should I call it—them?”

“I don’t know what to call them.” I shake my head. “When do they fix, um, them?”

“The fake boob that exploded. It is what it is.” Natalie ties her shoes and stands.

“My dad’s trying to convince her to come home. She wants the doctor to fix it today, but she has to wait a week.” Vianna slams her locker shut. “My dad actually wanted me to talk to her. There’s no way.” Vianna shakes her vigorously. “No. No. No.”

“That’s weird. Why would you talk to her about her boob explosion?” I ask.

Vianna shrugs.

Natalie pulls a sock out of her gym locker and shoves it in her bra to make her boobs look uneven. “Look at me I’m We…en…dee.”

Vianna sits back down and curls herself into a ball with her hands over her stomach while simultaneously crying and laughing. She lifts her head from her knees, “Stop, you’re killing me.”

“The musical’s over.” I pull the sock out of Natalie’s bra and throw it in her face. “Boley’s gonna kill us if we don’t move our butts out to the weight room.” The locker room is empty. We run out and sneak behind another group, barely arriving to class in time. I exhale.

“Close,” Boley says without looking up. He’s so serious. Moms may have eyes in the backs of their heads, but our gym teacher has them all over. The mirrors in the room don’t help us, either.

Mr. Boley doesn’t tolerate tardiness or unruliness in his weight room. We’re expected to show up on time and in blue, Stallion royal or navy blue. We can wear other colors if the shirts say Pine Gulch on them. He only wears Stallion Blue, and the only time he doesn’t wear sweat pants, a t-shirt, and a matching jacket is when he’s coaching basketball. Then he wears khaki slacks and a pressed Stallion polo.

I used to wear a pink Pine Gulch High t-shirt, because I could. But it only brought more attention, so I stopped. Now I wear a blue tank or t-shirt to class every day. This allows me to fold in with the rest of the class, especially on days I’m late. I’m still wondering why I agreed to waking up earlier.

Strength and conditioning class doesn’t require much athletic ability. The class consists of weights and cardio. Some of the serious sports nuts take strength and conditioning along with the power weights class, more for the conditioning than the strength. That explains Jack stretching in the front of the room. I face Vianna and give her a suspicious look. She smiles.

“Time to run, ladies.” Boley smirks at the three of us. The tone of his voice is mocking. Not nice. But he does have us pegged. The class walks to the outside track together. Jack is in the front. Thank God the mercury in the morning is usually between fifty and seventy degrees. It’s harder to run when it’s two p.m. and ninety degrees outside.

Even though the field is artificial, the surrounding area is not. The wild grasses and weeds are moist and the smell of the musky ash trees fills the air. It reminds me that winter is on its way. There’s this misconception about Colorado. Everyone thinks it’s cold and snows all the time. It doesn’t. The edges of the leaves are starting to turn from green to fall colors, but there isn’t any snow on the plains. The only snow is high on the peaks, and even though they look close, most of them are actually hours away from Pine Gulch.

Natalie, Vianna, and I huff in unison, which makes Boley grin more. Running for us means a fast-paced walk. I don’t even jog. By the time we make it out to the track the rest of the class has completed the first full lap, except for Jack. He trails behind. Not such a good football player after all. He’s gonna have to move faster than that if he plans on playing varsity.

“I should make you try and keep up with the new kid,” Boley chuckles. His arms are crossed. He stands confidently, watching the class circle the track.

“Bring it on,” I say.

Since Mr. Linebacker’s trailing behind I feel confident.

Natalie slaps my arm, and hard. “Ignore her, Boley. Massie doesn’t know it yet, but she’s so crushing on the new boy.”

My head spins. “I’m not and he can’t even…”

“Shut up, Massie. Take a look at the track.” Natalie slaps me again.

I slap her back, but then I look. My face sags forward and my eyes widen. “What lap is he
on
?”

Boley waits to answer until Jack reaches the starting point again. “His third. Still insist on…‘bringing it on’?”

“Nope.” I hightail my ass closer to the green and move my legs. The further you are away from the fake grass on the football field, the longer the walk.

Jack continues to pass without saying a word, barely breaking a sweat. I’ve never seen such drive and force.

After fifteen minutes of laps, Boley lets us off the hook. “Okay, for those who don’t want to run any more, back to class for your reps. Legs today.”

Most of the class casually leaves the track. Natalie, Vianna, and I speed toward the gym. According to Boley, this is the only time we move. You don’t need to tell us twice.

“Miss Bring It On. You can stay out here for the remainder of class, even if you walk. Your friends can go inside.”

Natalie and Vianna giggle.

“You both suck.” I stomp back to the track.

I can’t and won’t argue with Boley. He knows it, too. I won’t be able to call my parents to get out of this like my classmates can. It sucks having your dad as a football coach. If I protest, I’ll only end up running. I’d rather walk the entire class than face an even worse sentence.

I walk around the track while Jack and Laney Cavanaugh run laps. I look pathetic. Laney could’ve been the spokesgirl for any of the weight-loss programs. She dropped at least thirty pounds over the summer. She’s not skinny, she’s fit.

I wait for Jack to make fun of her. He doesn’t. Only someone like Colby would sink to that level of pond scum. Jack runs past Laney. He saves the teasing for me, “Girl, you’re slower than molasses in January.”

“Am not.” I pick up my pace. I can feel the little balls of sweat forming around my hairline. But I can’t slow down, it will only show defeat.

Jack keeps his pace steady. He catches up to Laney, they say something to each other, and she giggles. Her laugh is cute and sweet.

“What, I’m your new joke?” I ask when he passes by me for the millionth time.

He ignores me. I feel stupid now. What if he likes her? She is quite adorable. Although I thought that I heard Rafe Torres had his eye on her. Rumors. When you want them to be true, they never are.

I speed up more, even though I’ll never catch up with him. But I can catch up with Laney, barely. I’m always nice to her. She’ll tell me what the jerk is saying.

Dang it! I’ve turned into one of
those
girls, the girls who only talk to the outcasts to secure information. I pull back. This is not who I am. I’ve never considered Laney as an outcast like the rest of my class does. I could care less if her mom went off and joined some cult. At least her dad gives a shit about her. I’ve always been nice to Laney. We’ve never hung out or anything. But I’m not going to use her for information.

“I think he likes you.” Laney says. Somehow she’s either slowed to allow me to catch up or she ran another lap and caught up with me. Probably the latter.

“I doubt it,” I say, feeling stupid.

“Boys only pick on you when they like you. You told me that in second grade. I want to believe it, so don’t ruin it for me.”

“What?” Now I’m confused.

“I’ve had a few boys start to pick on me this year. And not like they did last year. I want to believe they like me,” Laney confesses. And, before I’m able to agree with her assumption, she jogs away.

I pick up my pace as Jack easily passes by me again. He turns and jogs backward. “I’ll slow down.”

“Whatever.”

“You’re slower than cream rising on buttermilk.” He moves sideways on the track. He’s light and fast on his feet.

If he doesn’t quit, I’m going to sock him. “I thought I was slower than molasses?” My arms coil together and I slow even more.

“In January. Or maybe like that turtle you were sketching at the coffee shop.”

“It wasn’t a turtle,” I say. I’m out of breath and I want to die.

“Then what was it?”

I don’t answer. Instead my eyes move to the bleachers. Blake is sitting on the top bench watching us. When Blake sees that I’ve spotted him, he stands and starts walking down the stairs.

“Looks like your boyfriend’s back.” Jack smiles and jogs past me. “I’m going in. Class is almost over. Coming, Laney?” She slows and they walk into the building together. I walk past Blake without saying a word. Jack doesn’t look back to see that I haven’t stopped to talk to Blake…but Laney does.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Did you know that Disneyland opened in 1955?” I sit cross-legged on my bed reading a book about random facts. The pages in my book are worn, some are torn, and pink sticky notes protrude from several pages. I move the bookmarks around when I find new favorite facts.

“That does nothing for me.” Natalie slides into my pink plush chair, which she’s moved to the center of my room. “What are we doing tonight?”

“Fieldhouse?” Vianna looks hopeful. Vianna has secured her favorite seat, my desk chair. It’s wooden, small, and uncomfortable. She likes to sit by the desk close to the corner with her knees bent and her arms wrapped around them.

“No. Just because you like skinny boys doesn’t mean we need to suffer.” Natalie sulks deeper into the circular seat. “Stairs?” Natalie says.

“No,” I say. I don’t need to think twice about going there. I hate that place. Stairs is the newest name of the underground teen club in Pine Gulch. It’s gone through several owners. New name, same dance floor. New mirrors built into the walls, same middle-school kids looking at their reflections and taking selfies.

“They raised the age limit to fifteen.” Natalie slips off her shoes and sits cross-legged. “Got a blanket?” she asks.

“So that means that it’ll be full of freshman girls. Loud, squeaky freshman girls. No boys will go,” I say. I pull my favorite blanket from behind me. It’s a Pine Gulch football blanket my dad bought me.

“Junior and senior boys looking for freshman who will put out will go,” Natalie corrects me.

“Exactly.” I chuck the blanket at Natalie but miss. The blanket clears Natalie and almost hits Vianna.

“Pollywog’s?” Vianna says in defeat. She doesn’t like hanging at the coffee shop.

“No,” Natalie says. “I don’t want to go where I work on my day off. Andrew invited us over to watch a movie on his lawn.” Natalie lifts her phone, showing us the screen with the text.

Andrew is the class clown but he has this way of bringing together every social group in the school. He doesn’t conform to anyone or anything. His thrift-shop wardrobe proves it. He came to school this week in athletic pants, a white t-shirt, and a sweater vest. When I asked about his outfit he said, “You do you and I’ll do me.”

I vote for the movie. “Cheap night. Let’s do it. It will only cost us a two-liter bottle of soda or a couple of cans. We can split the cost and bring Cola and Orange Soda.” I pull out money from my coin purse slapping it on the bed. Andrew likes to mix the two together. So does Natalie. I think it’s nasty.

“Hunter’s going,” Natalie baits Vianna.

Vianna pulls a couple of bucks from her back pocket and tosses on the bed with mine. Natalie follows suit.

#

Natalie, Vianna and I enter through the back gate. The usual culprits hang on the cement slab under the covered patio. Once Vianna spots Hunter she ditches us. Tyler won’t give Natalie the time of day, but he isn’t interested in anyone else, either. I keep catching him looking at Natalie. Oh, yeah. He isn’t over her yet. Half a dozen other people from school wander in for the showing of an Eighties comedy with a dancing gopher on a golf course. Andrew always picks the movies. They’re always comedies and never from this era.

Andrew has a date tonight. With the redhead from our school—finally! They make the cutest couple. Andrew and the redhead hold hands and laugh. Her blue eyes sparkle when Andrew speaks.

I drop off the soda on the table, which is covered with various non-alcoholic beverages. There are tubs of popcorn, chips of all varieties, and Andrew’s homemade salsa. The no-bake cookies will come out later, after Mrs. Sheppard had made sure nobody is allergic to peanut butter. They are gooey and chocolaty and one of my most favorite things in the entire world. My mom tried to make them for me, but hers turned out dry.

Vianna cuddles close to Hunter on the grass, front and center.

I push Natalie into Tyler. “Oh my God. Talk to each other,” I say. I force the issue by making them take a seat on the patio couch. When the movie begins, I squirm in my chair, watching couples nuzzle close and hold hands. Groups of single kids scatter away from the couples. I’m stuck next to Natalie and Tyler. At least they’re talking.

Natalie hands me a Pepsi. “Bottoms up,” she whispers.

I take a swig, expecting alcohol. What I find is that nasty mix of orange soda and cola. I turn to spit it out but I can’t spit on the cement. I force myself to swallow. I pull myself up from the seat and search for something else to drink.

Andrew is tossing everyone Popsicles. I’ve been chucked a cherry-flavored one.

I don’t want to watch the movie sitting next to the cute couple. If they start kissing, that will be way too awkward. Now that the sun has gone down, I’m starting to feel the chill in the air. The Popsicle isn’t helping. The days are still warm, but I should have brought a blanket or at least a heavier jacket.

I walk to the side of the house, where another group of kids gather. Colby and his friends. “Need a drink?” Colby asks, holding up a can of cola. “Loosen you up a bit.”

He makes me sick. I can’t believe Andrew invited the pig. Then I notice the redhead’s best friend standing next to Colby, and it all makes sense. She’s Colby’s date. I want to smack her. She’s too pretty for him.

The side gate opens and in walk a half-a-dozen football players: the nice ones, the ones who play their asses off but don’t make varsity, the ones who will never make varsity because they aren’t mean enough, the ones that haven’t lettered yet because they don’t get enough reps on varsity, the ones who aren’t trying to score with anything that moves.

Behind all of them is Jack.

When he walks through the gate, I can feel my face flush.

“Who invited Mr. Tough Guy?” Colby hollers. He’s sporting his ugly Northridge jacket. Colby’s the one who doesn’t belong.

Jack ignores Colby.

“Hey, dickhead, you can go home,” Colby says, like he owns the piece of grass he’s standing on.

Jack casually walks over to the cooler. He flips open the top, grabs a soda, and meanders back to his group.

“Hey, dickhead, I’m talking to you.” Colby covers his can with his thumb and shakes it.

Mrs. Shepherd’s voice slices through the chill in the air. “You can leave.”

Colby turns around and his thumb moves from the opening in the can. “Shut up, bitch.” The can explodes all over Mrs. Shepherd.

Colby looks pleased with himself until he realizes that he’s talking to someone’s mom. I’m sure his ass cheeks are tight now.

The nice-guy football players form a line.

Mrs. Shepherd pulls her shirt to her nose. Then she looks at Colby, who looks like he’s about to shit himself. “Listen up, you little punk. Leave! Now. Take all your so-called friends with you, too.”

Colby grabs his date’s arm. “Let’s go, Jamie.”

“Jamie.” Mrs. Shepherd’s voice is calm and low. “You’re staying here.”

Jamie pulls away from Colby with relief in her eyes. Colby shakes his head and heads out the gate with two other boys from Northridge High.

“Leave the booze.” Mrs. Shepherd says.

“Bitch.” Colby drops a glass bottle of whiskey on a decorative cement stump. The glass shatters.

“I’m gonna beat him into doll rags.” Jack starts toward the gate.

Mrs. Shepherd’s voice remains calm but firm. She looks at me and points to Jack. “What’s his name?”

“Jack,” I say.

“Jack.” Her voice snaps at him. Jack doesn’t hear her. His fists are clenched; he’s on a mission to destroy.

“Jack,” her voice lowers, demanding attention. He stops and looks back.

Ms. Shepherd shakes her head.

While the commotion calms, I finish my Popsicle and find the joke stamped on the stick. I loved these as a kid, even more than I love the stuff on the tea caps.

“What key won’t open any door?” I read out loud.

“A donkey,” Jack says in that voice that makes my heart jump just a teeny tiny bit.

I turn red. I forgot he was here. Okay, I didn’t
forget
, but I also didn’t think he’d be standing next to me. It’s hard to look at him. I feel like an idiot every time I’m around him. I stare down at the Popsicle stick.

“Was I wrong?” Jack asks. I can feel him looking at me.

“What?” I lift my eyes. I probably look like one of those flirty girls in the movies. I’m not trying to. I feel so unbelievably stupid. It’s hard to even complete a sentence without squeaking or making a complete ass out of myself.

“The joke. Was I wrong?”

“Oh. No, you were right.” Really? I can do much better than this, I know I can. Why does he even stand here and talk to me? There are a ton of prettier girls at this party that could engage in a conversation, or at least try.

“I’m Jack.” He extends his hand.

“I think we’ve established that.” Oh, I’m not touching his hand. I’ll die. Now I sound like some love-struck teenager standing in front of Bieber.

“And you’re Massie.” He pulls his hand back.

“Yep. That’s me.”

“I’m trying to start over.” Jack stuffs his hands in his pockets and peers over me.

Great. I’ve messed this up again. I try to recover. “It’s just…”

I stop. Really, what am I gonna say?

Sorry I can’t formulate a sentence. I think I’ve fallen in love with you. Not that I’ve ever fallen in love with someone I don’t know because I haven’t. I actually don’t believe in love at first sight; it’s ridiculous if you ask me. I don’t even know if I believe in love at all. But I do know that you’re the sexiest thing that I have ever seen in Pine Gulch, if not anywhere.

“Oh, I’m an idiot. That guy the other night. The guy on the field. You have a boyfriend.” Jack looks around like Blake will pop out of the movie screen.

“No!” Wow, I actually pound that out loud and quick. I’m thinking I even stomped my foot. How embarrassing. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I lower my voice. “He was…but he cheated on me.”

“Dumbass,” Jack says with a huge smile. Yep, dimple in the chin and perfect teeth. “Whatcha say we go and watch a movie?”

I follow him to the grass and we sit. I can’t get close enough.