Happenstance (3 page)

Chapter Four

Walking into third period gave me pause. A familiar
face with kind blue eyes and perfectly glossed lips looked up at me. “Hi,
there. Come on in.”

Julianne Alderman stood behind Mr. Barrows’s desk, nervously
shuffling papers. “Oh, my. I’m not very good at this.”

I just watched her as the other students filled the desks. They
barely noticed her and were talking and laughing loudly.

“What the . . . what are you doing here?” Alder said, frozen in
the doorway. Her eyes were wide.

Julianne smiled. “Obviously they were very desperate for a
substitute.”

Alder rolled her eyes and scampered to her seat, ducking down. “This
is so freaking embarrassing, Mother. Jesus.”

“Erin,” Julianne warned, although there wasn’t even a glimmer of
anger in her eyes. Gina would have climbed over the desk at me by then.

Julianne’s shiny brown hair bounced as she walked around the
classroom, passing out papers. As a child, I fantasized about what it would be
like to grow up with a mother like her. Alder always showed up to school on
Halloween in a gorgeous, homemade princess costume, complete with a pink pointy
hat and ribbon flowing from the top. Sam and Julianne were always at the games
that Alder cheered at to support her, wearing buttons on their jackets
featuring her cheer picture. For her sixteenth birthday, they bought her a
shiny new Honda Accord, which she hated. She didn’t know she was lucky to take
those things for granted, that everyone didn’t get the same love and attention
that she did, so I didn’t really hold it against her. Even though I wanted to.

Julianne sat in Mr. Barrows’s chair and grinned, her blue eyes
sparkling. We had similar coloring, the same heart-shaped face, similar dark
hair and blue eyes, so I hoped I still looked as young and beautiful as she did
when I was her age.

Alder groaned. “What is this?”

“It’s your assignment,” Julianne said. “Mr. Barrows said you
would know what to do, so get to it, guys. You have to finish before the end of
the period. No one can take this home.”

Everyone but me grumbled, and Julianne blinked, clearly unhappy
at being unpopular.

“God, this is so embarrassing!” Alder seethed.

Julianne managed a sweet but wounded smile. “Sorry, honey. They just
needed my help.”

By fifth hour, Alder was particularly cranky. The guys were
giving her crap about how hot her mom was, and the girls were bugging her about
why she was working as a substitute. Julianne had been a stay-at-home mom since
a week before the three of us Erins were born. Before that she was a PA for Dr.
Shuart’s clinic, but she left Alder in daycare once and couldn’t do it again.
Or that was the story, anyway. Sam was Blackwell’s general surgeon, and they
lived in a six-bedroom home around the corner and down the street from Weston.

“What is that smell?” Sonny said loudly from the back of health
class.

They had been on that subject all day, starting in first hour when
Brady implied that the rancid chemical smell coming from some of Mrs. Merit’s
new supplies was coming from my vagina. After that, he made a show every time
he passed me in the hall, and others caught on.

The thought of having them all in Health might have broken me,
but for some reason, their taunts weren’t fazing me like usual.

“Ugh,” Brady said. “Again? What the hell is that? I’ve been
smelling it all day!”

“Maybe it’s you?” Weston said, turning around in his desk.

I kept facing forward.

Coach Morris turned from the chalkboard. “Is there a problem?”

Everyone shook their heads.

A muffled gagging noise came from the back, and then another.
Coach turned around again.

“Sorry, Coach, but do you not smell that?” Sonny asked.

“No,” he said, looking around, confused. “Smell what?” he
sniffed, and everyone broke into laughter. The coach was not amused. “Either
pay attention to the lesson or get out!” he shouted, pointing to the door.
Everyone silenced.

“Yeah, dicks,” Weston whispered.

Coach flipped around and his eyes targeted Weston. “What did you
say, Gates?”

Weston swallowed. “I said, ‘Yeah, dicks.’”

Coach Morris shifted his weight, preparing to lay into Weston. “And
who are the dicks you’re referring to?”

“That would be Brady, Sir, and anyone else complaining of a
nonexistent smell.”

Coach hesitated then turned back around.

“Fuck you, punk,” Brady said under his breath.

“Suck my cock, Beck!” Weston said, standing up.

“All right, enough!” Coach Morris’s voice boomed.

Mrs. Pyles walked in, her eyes wide. “Is everything okay in here?”

Coach glared at Brady and Weston. “Get out of my classroom. Both
of you. Now.”

Weston grabbed his backpack and stormed out.

Brady held up his hands. “I didn’t do anything? Why are you
throwing me out?”

“Get out, Brady!”

“But I didn’t do anything! This is crap! Ask anyone!”

Coach Morris looked over at Mrs. Pyles. “Mrs. Pyles, would you
please escort Mr. Beck out of my classroom before I lose my temper?”

Mrs. Pyles stared at him for a moment then walked toward Brady. “All
right, Brady, let’s go.”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Brady said, his voice almost a whine.

“Brady Beck, get out of that chair, or so help me, I will assist
Coach Morris in physically removing you from this classroom! Get up! Now!”

Brady leaned back against his seat as Mrs. Pyles leaned toward him.
She was angrier than I’d ever seen her. After a moment of shock, Brady
scrambled for his things and scurried from the classroom.

“You’ll be hearing from my parents!”

“Oh, goody. Can’t wait,” Coach Morris deadpanned. “Now, back to
the facial muscles.”

I scooted down in my seat, feeling the ten pairs of eyes boring
into the back of my head.

During seventh period, I kept glancing at Weston’s empty seat and
sighing. I didn’t need him to save me, and it was causing him grief. I wasn’t
sure why he’d suddenly decided to take me on as a cause, but it was clearly
dangerous for both of us.

As I walked to the front of the school at the end of the day, I
could see Brady, Brendan, Andrew, and the Erins standing on the corner that I
usually crossed, next to their parallel-parked vehicles. Not once since they
got their licenses had they congregated there, and I knew the Erins were
already late for cheer practice. They were waiting for me.

I refused to take a different route to the Dairy Queen and lifted
my chin as I approached, keeping my eyes forward.

“Hey,” Sonny said. “We need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” I said, gripping the black, nylon
straps of my backpack so tight my fingers hurt.

Alder smirked. “Maybe not, but we have a lot to say to you.”

Brady grabbed my arm and flipped me around. “Don’t be a fucking
cunt. Let her speak.”

I yanked my arm away, and just as the Erins were approaching me,
a big, red truck pulled in next to us, the front tires climbing the curb with
ease.

The driver’s side door slammed, and Weston ran around the front,
wedging his shoulder between Brady’s hand and my arm.

“What are you doing, man?” Weston said.

Brady’s expression turned severe. “What am I doing? What’s wrong
with you? Why are you busting my balls over this skank?”

“Just leave her alone, man,” Weston said, trying to keep his
voice calm.

“Weston,” Alder said, reaching for his fingers. She looked like a
beautiful, poisonous snake as she lithely crawled up Weston’s side, rising on
the balls of her feet. She kissed the corner of his mouth softly.

I had to fight a sudden bout of nausea.

Weston pulled away from her.  “Go, Easter,” he said quietly over
his shoulder.

I turned on my heels and kept walking, refusing to look back. For
the next five blocks, I tried to push the revolting image of Erin’s toxic lips
touching Weston. It was common knowledge that they were each other’s firsts,
but I tried not to think about it, and had successfully read all signs of
oncoming PDA between the two for the last five years.

I slipped into the back door of the Dairy Queen, tying on my
apron as I walked to the front.

“Hey chickiedoo! How was your day?” Frankie said, closing the
window after her latest customer walked away.

“Weston got kicked out of class for taking up for me. The Erins
and some of the guys were waiting for me after school.”

“Aw! Wait . . .
what
?”

“You heard me,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning my butt
against the counter.

A minivan pulled into the parking lot, and several kids filed
out. The mom came to my window, already looking worn. I took each of their
orders, three of them changing while I was making them, and sent them on their
way. After that, the lines formed and people kept adding to them until dark, so
we didn’t have much time to talk. When baseball practice let out, Weston’s
truck took off down Main Street, without stopping at the DQ. None of the
players did..

We cleaned up, closed the shop, and walked outside. “Ride?”
Frankie asked, but then stopped, mid-step.

Right outside the back door was Weston’s red Chevy, towering over
us. He was smiling down at me from the driver’s seat. “Wanna take a drive?”

Frankie looked back at me, pleading with her eyes for me to say
yes.

I nodded, and Weston disappeared, leaning over to pull the lever
of the passenger door and pushing it open. I walked around the truck, but not
without noticing Frankie’s cheesy grin. I climbed up into the seat, and shut
the door.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” I said. “I just kind of left you there
to deal with them alone.”

“Stop. Don’t you dare apologize to me.”

When I didn’t respond, he pulled the truck into gear and pulled
away, down my street and past my house, straight out of town. I knew where we
were going, and I was glad. It felt better than going home, or to school, or
even the Dairy Queen. It had become the one place where I could relax and be at
peace.

The Chevy’s engine turned off, letting the silence of the night
surround us. Weston opened the door and walked directly to the tailgate,
pulling it down. This time he waited for me and  held out his hand.

I stared at his fingers. They were long, and the nails had been
bitten down to the quick. “I’m not . . . helpless.”

“Oh, I know. I just think you’re due for a little special
treatment.”

I looked at his outstretched hand.

He shrugged. “Just let me be nice to you.”

I let him help me to the tailgate and watched as he climbed up
and sat next to me.

“Oh,” he said, leaning back and opening the cooler. He handed me
a Fanta Orange, and he ended up with a Cherry Coke.

“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip. “What did your parents say? About
today?”

“They don’t know.”

“What do you mean? Didn’t the school call them?”

“They didn’t call Brady’s, so they didn’t call mine.”

I sighed. “Well, I’m glad. I guess they didn’t give you
detention, either?”

“Nope.”

I nodded. “Why did I even ask?”

He laughed once, without humor.

“When I got home, after practice, my dad had an acceptance letter
in his hand. He was smiling from ear to ear. I wanted to puke.”

“Why?”

“Because it was from his alma mater. Duke University. Don’t get
me wrong, it’s a good school. My sister loves it there.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Another acceptance was in his other hand, from the Art Institute
of Dallas.” I waited while he took a sip of his Cherry Coke. “He didn’t know
I’d applied, and I tried to beat him home every day to check the mail so he
wouldn’t find out what I’d done.”

“But today you didn’t beat him, because you were standing on the
corner with me.”

 “It’s not your fault. He didn’t even mention it. He didn’t even
care. He was too amped about the football scholarship, and even if I didn’t get
one, his mind was made up. It didn’t even matter that I applied behind his
back.”

“What are you going to do?”

Weston pulled a wadded-up piece of paper from his letter jacket
pocket. “I fished it out of the trash can.”

I felt my eyes light up. “You’re going to go?”

He stared at the paper. “I worked my ass off getting that
application together.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

He looked at me. “What do you think? My parents won’t help me
with the tuition, much less an apartment.”

“So you work and go to school. You’re not the first student in
the world to do that.”

“I’m not scared of doing that. I’m just . . . that’s a pretty big
slap in the face to my parents. It’s a big deal.”

“It’s your life.” Those words were simple and overused, but that
was always true of the truth. “What would your thirty-year-old self say?

“If he’s sitting in an office pushing legal paperwork, he’s
probably cussing me.”

I shrugged and looked up at the sky. “Sounds to me like you know
the answer.”

“It’s a difference between want and should, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You should do what you want.”

He looked over at me and smiled, and I met his eyes. He watched
me for a moment, and then his gaze fell to my lips. “You smell like ice cream.”

My breath caught. “So?”

“I’m just kind of wondering if you taste like it.”

After a short pause, I choked then burst out in howling laughter.

He grinned. “What? What’s funny?”

I couldn’t stop the ugly cackling bubbling up from deep inside of
me, like it had been waiting there my entire life to be set free. My eyes watered.
Weston quietly chuckled, too.

“Man,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m glad it’s
dark.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, wiping my eyes.