Crossed Out (5 page)

Crap, late again!

Next to me, Cura covered her ears in a failed attempt to block out the shrill first period bell. Others heeded the warning and scrambled down the crowded hallway, toting books, notes, and cell phones. While I clung to my locker, all my attention was riveted on the newest arrival to Sutter High.

The cute guy leaned against his locker, a few buttons on his shirt straining against his muscular chest.

Note to self: Don’t get distracted by cute guys. This will only get you in serious trouble and possible afterschool detention.

Though I tried to take my own advice, Dr. Phil I’m not. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the new guy. His dark wavy hair begged for someone to run their fingers through it.

I felt like a magnet drawn to its polar opposite. Shivers crept up my spine. Even so, I sensed something wasn’t right with the new guy. Warning sirens screamed in my head.
Get out of here! He’s trouble.

Though I knew I should run to class, an urge to rebel came over me.

Let’s face it. I’m only human. That guy would make any girl’s hormones launch into hyper-drive.

“Crap,” Cura complained. “Now we’ll never have a chance.”

“What?”

“As if you didn’t know.” She rolled her eyes at Hillary’s wannabe court. “Check it out. The vampires are homing in for the kill.”

Sure enough, not ten feet away, Mr. Hottie stopped in front of Hillary and her friends. Hillary looked especially fashionable today – designer jeans clung to her size 0 body, a low-cut top revealed cleavage, obviously enhanced by a Victoria’s Secret push-up bra, and huge hoop earrings emphasized her heart-shaped face. The others looked like wilted dandelions next to a radiant rose.

Cura heaved a sigh. “Peace out. I can’t stomach anymore.”

“Yeah, later.”

Cura hurried off to her algebra class while I continued to gawk at Hillary’s newest conquest. Apparently she had said something, as he stopped in front of the group of girls and smiled. Tossing back her Jamie Spears hair, she flashed her laser-whitened teeth at the new boy. The others in her group giggled. They drew their bodies closer, forming a tight circle around him.

I almost felt sorry for him.

I had turned to leave when the hairs on the back of my neck rose to attention. Though it never got cold here in the middle of October, chills spread through my body. After my experience at Hillary’s place, I feared to know the source.

Glancing over my shoulder, I froze.

The cute guy gazed my way.
Whoa!
His blue eyes drilled into me, cutting away my pretense of indifference. I staggered back, stunned by the raw intensity of the stare.

In that moment, I felt a weird connection. Images of the two of us together in the hallway flashed through my mind. As he got closer, a musky scent floated around me. I felt repelled but also drawn to him. His mouth seemed so inviting. I wondered what it tasted like.

The hallway vanished, revealing a darkened stage. Only the two of us remained. As I got closer, his husky voice whispered my name.
Stephanie, don’t be afraid.
Each word rubbed my skin, warming it and raising the hairs on my arms.

“Stephanie....”

I felt something nudge my shoulder. Dylan stood next to me. His tousled blond hair and rock band t-shirt sent me crashing back to reality.

I glanced back up. The group, including – Mr. Hottie – was gone.

“Come on, you’re going to be late.” Dylan nudged me in the direction of our class.

“Jeez.” I shrugged his hand off. “I’m coming.”

Figures he’d be here. Once more I got the weird sensation that Dylan had been following me. Back at the counselor’s office was bad enough, but it was especially uncool to be caught scoping out the new cute guy.

Dylan turned his head in the direction of Hillary’s locker. “What’s so exciting this morning?”

“Um, nothing. Go on. I’ll meet you in class.”

“All right. But I’m not covering for you again.”

Dylan hurried down the hallway. Somehow I couldn’t picture Dylan with a black mark on his attendance record. But for once, I didn’t complain.

Whew.
I thought. I don’t know why I worried about Dylan catching me staring at some guy, but I did.

Another note to self: Don’t stand gawking in the school hallway where your guy friend – not boyfriend – can catch you in the act. Talk about embarrassing.

I shook my head, trying to clear the troubling mental picture. I didn’t know whether I liked the image or not. On one hand, Mr. Dreamboat scared me, but on the other hand, I still felt a deep urge to touch him.

Absently, I scratched at the side of my right leg.

Who was this guy?
Clutching my book to my chest, I vowed to find out.

Chapter 5

I stifled a yawn. Algebra class was as boring as ever. More than once I caught myself glancing out the side window. The clear blue sky seemed so much more inviting than the cramped space that school officials considered a classroom. Posters of algebraic equations covered the bland walls. And of course, I couldn’t forget the burgundy-colored poster advertising Warrior Spirit for this Friday’s football game.

Note to self: Try to have an escape Friday night.

I so hated football. Too boring and the wood bleachers hurt my butt.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something odd had happened to me back at my locker. The dream-like sensation I’d shared with the new guy seemed so real. Whenever I’d had the feeling before, the dead appeared. So what did this mean? Goosebumps covered my arms.

Fidgeting in my chair, I tried to ignore the giggling druggies in the back. Still high from a weekend party, they seemed to find humor in everything. Even linear equations.
Hah, hah.

Mr. Nelson droned on, ignoring them. I rolled my eyes. As if I would ever use this stuff in the real world.

Tuning the teacher out, I found myself sketching the new guy’s features on a piece of paper tucked inside my notebook. His dark, wavy hair, wide shoulders, and full mouth had invited me closer.

How could I expect to pay attention to any teacher without first learning more about this new guy? I mean, some things just happen to be more important than algebra.

Suddenly, the room chilled and the lights dimmed. Right on cue, my legs started to itch.

“Dude,” one of the druggies in back of me whispered, “check it out.”

I glanced up from my notebook and couldn’t believe what I saw.
No way! This can’t be happening!
Shadows snaked across the glass of the framed geometric shapes on the wall. Then boring, dull Mr. Nelson got a bizarre look on his face.

He stopped in the middle of explaining an algebraic equation. With a toothy grin, he threw his dry marker pen in the trash.

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” he said, “but I find this boring. Why don’t we do something more interesting? Like, rock out!”

Okay. This is weird
. Mr. Nelson was a closet rocker? Who knew?

He jumped on top on the table and ripped his tie off. A chorus of cheers egged him on. Smiling, he rolled his sleeves up and started....

Playing an air guitar! His fingers moved, lightning fast, across his make-believe guitar. His hair slapped back and forth against his craggy face, reminding me of some middle-age wannabe rock star. His voice scratched and whined like a creepy guitar from Hell. Goosebumps covered my body.

I slid down in my chair and covered my eyes. I knew this was my fault. I’d brought this weirdness with me. Perhaps Allison knew something. Where was Allison when I needed her?

Finally we were saved from any further embarrassment when the bell rang. Mr. Nelson looked dazed, like he didn’t know what he’d been doing.

I wanted to say something to him. But what could I say? ‘Um, Mr. Nelson, I’m really sorry. Somehow I know this is because I screwed up at Hillary’s house. I hadn’t yet helped that spirit go to the light. Now she is taking her anger out on me.’

Yeah, that would go over real well.

Instead, I shoved my algebra notes into my notebook and avoided Mr. Nelson’s red face. I couldn’t get out of class fast enough.

Others in the hallway laughed about what had just happened. Not me. A tinge of guilt made me rush faster for the cafeteria. Usually food made me feel better in situations like this. Right now, I craved a Double-Double In-N-Out cheeseburger, medium fries, and a large chocolate shake.

In reality I knew it would be the half-wilted house salad, diet Coke, and – if I was lucky – an M&M chocolate cookie.

Something good had to happen. Didn’t my horoscope predict this? Yes! And didn’t I run into the cute new guy?

Feeling a tad better, I slowed down. Thinking about Mr. Hottie made my body tingle. Dylan was too safe. I wanted more out of life than just chasing confused dead people. Yeah, for once it would be nice to have someone chase me.

On my way to the lunch room, the gross smell of what the school considered food grew stronger. Just thinking about the prepackaged gravy-covered brown stuff made me wrinkle my nose in disgust.

Maybe I could talk Cura and Dylan into eating outside on the steps. The warm breeze would perk me up and be way better than drinking a couple Red Bulls. As an added bonus, I’d hear the gossip on the new guy. Cura would surely have heard something by now.

I made my way to the busy lunch counter and grabbed a tray. A double fudge brownie caught my eye. I snatched it right out from under the nose of the very surprised guy next to me.

After I paid, I scanned the area. Everyone sat in their designated places. To the right were the preppies, girls with attitude, and far behind them the immature boys. On the left-hand side were the Goths, and wannabe-populars. To the far left, next to the putrid mustard-colored wall, were the computer geeks, battling anime foes on their PSPs.

I normally sat more toward the back of the room. Not too close to the nerds, and far enough away from the middle table, where....

Oh, my gosh! I gripped my tray to my chest and hunched down. I should have known better!

Chapter 6

Hillary, her wannabes, and a few jocks sat at their usual table. I tried to avoid Hillary’s attention, but no such luck. She looked away from the others – her eyes locked with mine. Suddenly I felt sick. An evil smile crept across her face.

“Omigod!” Hillary’s high-pitched voice rang out over the lunch crowd. “You should have seen her!”

“Seen who?” Jason, the star quarterback asked. One of his muscular arms held her tighter than a football.

“Why, Scary Stephanie, that’s who!” Hillary laughed. “Bet she crapped her pants the other night at my house.”

“My God, you should have seen her,” Megan, her wannabe added. “We were playing that lame game
Bloody Mary
and she ran out of the house, like the freak she is!”

“She probably thought that Bloody Mary chick really did show up. She even broke my mirror. Bitch.” Hillary tore off a piece of cookie and put it in her mouth.

“Didn’t your Mom ask to have her over?” Megan asked.

Hillary nearly choked. “Yeah, right, as if she’d ever be a part of our group.”

“Isn’t Stephanie the weird chick with the itch?” Jason asked.

“Itchy Stephie!” Hillary giggled. “Now that’s a great name for her!”

With the help of two of the school jocks, Hillary got on top of the table. Bending over, she scratched the back of her legs with her French manicured fingernails.

Itchy Stephie! Itchy Stephie!
The jocks pounded the table with each chant.

Laughter rocked the cafeteria.

I stared in horror at the parody directed at me. Each laugh stabbed into my soul. My earlier fears of Hillary and my fiasco at her house last Friday night came rushing back like a major tidal wave, crashing into me with their cruel and painful words. Oh, why couldn’t I just die and get this over with?

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Dylan rising from the bench. Anger clouded his expression. But Cura grabbed his arm, shaking her head.

I didn’t know whether to be pissed or relieved that Cura didn’t want Dylan to get involved. It would have been nice to see someone beat the crap out of the resident bully, but there was no way Dylan could take on Jason and his buddies. No, it would be better for me to just disappear.

Holding back tears, I rushed out of the cafeteria. I prayed the bathroom stall would be empty, because that’s where I’d be eating my lunch alone – the resident freak of Sutter High.

Rounding the corner I slammed into something warm and soft. My tray fell to the floor, flinging bits of salad, brownie, and diet Coke everywhere. Some of the ranch dressing oozed down my new cotton sweater.

Too mortified to clean my sweater, I bent down to clean up the mess. “I’m so sorry.” My bottom lip trembled. I resisted the urge to cry.

“That’s okay,” a husky voice said. My eyes widened in shock.
No way.
It couldn’t be him. I mean, I had only heard his voice in my day-vision, by my locker.

I glanced up and felt faint. Mr. Hottie himself stared down at me. His blue eyes were even more intense close up. A mixture of ranch dressing and iceberg lettuce shreds, red cabbage, and smashed tomatoes dribbled down his red plaid shirt. My gaze followed the line down his nicely built chest. My insides turned to mush, making my heart do its own version of somersaults.

“Here,” he said, “let me help.”

“Thanks.” I shoved what remained of my lunch onto the tray. “I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

“Do we always get entertainment at lunch?” He nudged his chin in the direction of Hillary’s table.

All sound ceased. Everyone stared our way.

Whoa, what’s going on?

Dread that I was having a serious mental moment filled my body until I glanced at the source of my misery.

Hillary stood on the table, frozen. Her mouth hung open in either shock or surprise. She kinda looked like a frog that got lost in a rich kid’s closet. Let’s just say, the bulging eyes act did nothing for her.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Don’t you think this is weird?”

With one hand under my arm, he guided me out of the cafeteria. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Oh, by the way my name’s Mark. What’s yours?”