The Love Story (The Things We Can't Change Book 4) (13 page)

The ship is just crashing into the iceberg when Jenny says slowly, “Maybe we just need to start separating ourselves from them. And do things to give us confidence outside of their control.”

“What?” I ask, frowning. I’m feeling a sugar rush starting, which I know will be sharply followed by a sugar hangover, the worst kind. “Now
you’re
not making sense.”

“Look. We’ve been thrust into the country club lifestyle since we were toddlers, right? We’ve kind of been forced to associate with the same people all this time and do the same things they do. Tennis, dance, golf, SAT prep courses, clubs that look good on college resumes. Everything we did was competitive against Grace and Tiffany and Chantal and all those other girls. Even the ones that didn’t go to our school. So Tiffany has always been the ringleader and we’ve always been her ducklings. So I say we bust the shit out of the nest or whatever and do something
we
want for a change. Something that Tiffany and those girls have never done and have no control over. So we can kind of get to know ourselves and boost our own confidence without them to tear us down.”

I make a face at her. “Ugh. Tennis.” I hadn’t even though about the spring tennis season. Grace and I have played doubles together for as far back as I can remember. And then I realize that just proves Jenny’s point. “Okay, I’m listening. What did you have in mind for us to do though? It’s too late to do any sports and I’m not particularly talented at anything else to begin with.”

“That leaves clubs then, probably,” Jenny says speculatively. “But one that neither Tiffany, Chantal, Grace, Josh or Aaron are part of. What are they in?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s not like we’ve been chatting about clubs and homework the past few weeks.”

“True,” Jenny agrees with a guilty look. “Your yearbook!” she gasps, so suddenly that I jump and spill Twizzler Bites all over the floor.

“My what?” I ask, picking fuzz-covered bits of candy out of the thick carpet and mourning the waste of good junk food.

“Where are your yearbooks?” she asks impatiently. “They’ll have a listing of clubs and who was in them.”

“Oh. Of course. They’re upstairs in my office.”

“
In my office,
” Jenny mimics with an eye roll. “Spoiled brat. Race you there!”

She springs to her feet and is off before I even process what she’s said.

“Hey!” I grab my Doritos and a new can of pop before speeding after Jenny.

I catch up to her on the basement stairs as she slips in her haste to beat me. Giggling crazily, I rush past her and sprint through the kitchen. I slip on the turn to the stairs and overshoot it, my socked feet sliding out of control on the tile floor.

“Loser!” Jenny shouts as I hit the wall and she passes me and is up the stairs.

“Stupid in-shape bunhead!” I call back as I gain traction again and pound up the stairs after her.

I catch up in the hallway and we both spill into my office, slamming the door open before us. I feel a savage sense of pleasure at the loud bang and wish that Clarissa was here to try and scold us.

Jenny has fallen to her back, breathing heavily as she rubs her belly. “Too much sugar!” she groans. “I’m not used to it, I can’t handle it!”

“Lightweight,” I scoff, heading for my bookshelves.

I pull my yearbooks off the shelf one by one and toss them on the floor so they slide toward Jenny. Then I plop onto the floor next to her and open my bag of chips again. They got a little crushed in the melee but are otherwise unharmed.

“Oooh, sustenance and fuel to heal my body!” Jenny sits up and thrusts her hand into the bag. It comes back up covered in artificial cheese dust and clutching a fistful of broken chips.

“Hog,” I snort and flip open the most recent yearbook. “Okay, clubs, let’s see. Key Club is out. We all used to do that together. French Club too, Tiffany was president last year, wasn’t she?”

“Ugh, yes. Lamest year of French Club ever. Besides, none of us are taking French this year because we finally don’t have to, except for her. She wants to study abroad there in college.”

“Hmm,” I say, grabbing a Sharpie off my desk. I draw big X’s through the clubs we can’t join and add devil horns and a mustache to Tiffany’s French Club president picture for good measure.

I’d always wanted to study abroad in college too. My dad promised to take me to Europe as a graduation present and I would decide which country I wanted to study in while we were there. It had always been an idle thought though—Tony would never have let me go.

I realize I’m free of him now though. I can do whatever I want. Study what I want, where I want. I could spend all four years of college in Europe if I wanted. But the idea of doing it on my own sends a chill down my spine. I could never. Not unless Zeke came too. Isn’t it every artists dream to go to Italy or France? But how would he pay for it?

I nibble on my thumbnail as I stare at the yearbook without seeing it. He would never let me pay for it. Not in a million years. There are so many things that I can do for him, financially speaking, but Zeke doesn’t want charity. He has too much pride, even though I will never miss the money and I feel he couldn’t make it on his own. He’s just done so
much
for me and I feel like I have yet to return the favor.

Then I realize what I’m thinking and want to kick myself. If I had doubted that Zeke had a valid point, the doubts are now gone. More and more I’m realizing he is right. And I need to get started.

I’ll study abroad.
I make the promise then and there, fiercely to myself.
With or without Zeke.

I turn my attention back to the yearbook as Jenny looks over my shoulder.

“Okay, Chemistry Club is out, Grace does that too. Her dad is in research, remember? They’re priming her to discover a cure for cancer or whatever. So are Yearbook Committee, Outreach, Exchange Program, and Drama Club.”

“Right,” I mutter, crossing out each one as Jenny points to it. I turn the page as she sits back and opens my Dr. Pepper. “Also no student council, intramural bowling and golf or debate, math league or even English or normal honor society.”

“Oookay.” Jenny takes a long pull from the can. “With that many afterschool activities, plus sports, how do they even have time to get into trouble?”

“Most clubs only meet once a month,” I point out. “It’s a good thing to list on a resume without much effort on the student’s part.”

“Right. So… what’s left then?”

I scan the marked up page. “That leaves us with… chess club.”

“Ugh. No way.” Jenny hauls herself up and we trade yearbook for Dr. Pepper. “Let’s see… oh! How about this?” She holds up the book and points to one of the few remaining pictures. “Dance committee!”

I wrinkle my nose. “As in… dance planning? Like Homecoming?”

“Exactly,” Jenny says. “It could be fun. And you know Tiffany would think it’s beneath her to plan a dance. They only show up for ten minutes and leave to go drink anyway.”

“I don’t know,” I say reluctantly.

I remember Homecomings of the past—the cheesy corsages, the sparkly dress, the feeling of anticipation that was never fulfilled. Like Jenny said, we always ended up leaving the dance early and going to someone’s house to drink, a hallmark activity of the ‘popular’ kids. Last year was when Tiffany had driven drunk and had her accident. And Tony had never liked how people had looked at me in my party finery.

“Oh, come on. It can be our excuse to actually stay this year since we’ve never gotten to.” Like me, Jenny had little tolerance for the leaving early and drinking part. “And if Zeke and you are still on a break then we can go together and not look totally lame.”

“Eh,” I say, though it does almost sound like fun. A dance free of Tony’s temper? I’ve never experienced it. It might be good for me.

“Evie! I swear, it’ll be fun.” Jenny lectures me sternly. “I know you remember your dance lessons and have good rhythm. We’ll tear up the dance floor a little bit and be all girly beforehand and get our hair and nails done together. It’ll be totally lame but we’ll get to see our hard work and do it all
without
the wicked Spice Girls to torment us.”

I can’t hold a smile back even as I continue to argue. “We’re already three weeks into the school year. I know our Homecoming is late compared to other schools, but how are we even going to join? I bet it’s too late.”

“Please,” Jenny scoffs, pulling the discarded yearbook toward her again. “I’m sure we know at least one person on the committee who can speak for us. They always need more people to sweep up confetti and cut out stars, I’m sure. Oh, look! India Matthews. She sits next to me in calculus!”

“And have you ever talked to her before?” I ask with a frown. “Oh, hey!” I jab my finger at the list. “Koby was on the committee last year. That’s our in. I’m pretty sure he’s doing it again this year, I’ll text him right now.”

Jenny snaps the book shut, almost catching my finger inside. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s find something else. Anything else.”

I narrow my eyes at her and have a sudden flashback to the last time she was at my house. “Hey! You and Koby were going to hang out! Whatever happened with that?”

Jenny immediately turns bright red and avoids my eyes. “Absolutely nothing at all,” she says, much too quickly.

I plant my hands on my hips and look at her sternly. “Jennifer Elizabeth Hunt, I‘ve known you for almost all my life and I definitely know when you’re lying. Spill it. Now.”

Jenny sighs. “Koby and I met at the library and worked on a project. And then we went and got lunch together. Weeee... kissed.”

I give a loud squeal because I just can’t hold it in. It’s been ages since I’ve had any girl gossip.

Jenny glares at me for a moment and finishes quickly, as though she wants to get it all out as fast as possible. There’s a catch in her voice when she continues the story, avoiding my eyes. “And then Tiffany, Grace, and Chantal happened, right around the time you had your… thing with Tony. They… um, found a note he wrote to me. It was stupid, we’d just started writing notes during English because we were bored while people were presenting their projects. They made fun of me for it and I thought that was it. But next thing I know, after school that day the four of us passed him in the hallway. Tiffany… she threw his note at him. I didn’t even realize she’d kept it—I’d laughed it off and tried to say it was a joke but I know she saw right through me.”

Jenny looks up at me, her eyes glistening with tears. “She’d written… she wrote the
N-word
on it, Evie. In big red letters. And she goes, ‘we’ve been having a good laugh at you, Phillips, but Jenny needs to be free to hook up this summer. So stay in the kitchens where you belong.’”

She rests her forehead on a hand, shaking it back and forth. “And I… I just
stood
there, Evie. I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say! I didn’t even defend him. It was the worst moment of my life. The absolute worst. I still feel sick when I think about it. Do you know what Tiffany said to me as he walked away?”

Slowly, I shake my head, aching for both Koby and Jenny.

“She said, ‘I just did you a favor, Jenny.’ That’s what she said to me.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, shaking my head again. “I just don’t get why they look down on Koby and Zeke and Dominic so much. Because they happen to have a job? And it happens to be at the club where we’re members? Because they’re black? That’s stupid. Chantal’s dad is half black. So why?”

“Their skin color just gives them an added reason,” Jenny says, sniffling and wiping her eyes. “They’re on some kind of power trip, fueled every time they’re served by them at the club.”

“But Koby is a straight-A student. He dresses nicely. He’s nice to everyone. His mom is even nice.”

Jenny looks up at me sharply. “You met Koby’s mom? You’ve been to his house?”

I wave a hand. “Long story.”

“Yeah, we’re full of those, aren’t we?” Jenny gives a wet eye roll.

“It would appear so.”

“That’s why I need to do this with you,” she says fiercely. “I help you and
you
help
me.
Because I can’t let that happen ever again. I don’t want to be that person, feel like that, ever again in my life.”

“I’ll help you,” I say firmly. I toss the yearbook over my shoulder. “But enough stalling. I’m texting Koby right now. We’re joining the dance committee.” I stand up and head for the door.

“What?” Jenny squawks and is beside me in an instant. “Evie,
no
. Please, no. I can’t face Koby on a daily basis, let alone be in a club with him. I can’t. Really. I’m not even messing with you right now.”

She tails me, protesting, the whole way back downstairs to my cell phone. She actually lunges for it as I pick it up.

“Hey!” I jerk my phone back out of reach and put out a hand to hold her back. “Calm down, Jenny! It’s just a dance committee!”

“I know that!” She scowls but still has a bit of a crazy look in her eyes. “But I can’t face him. I really can’t.”

“All the more reason for you to do it.” Satisfied she won’t grab for the phone again, I quickly tap out a message to Koby.