Inevitable (13 page)

“I
’m sorry, Ms. Lockwood, but we only have a month left in the school year. I can't transfer you into a different English class at this time.”

I stared back at the receptionist, feeling desperation creep through my chest. This Monday couldn’t get any worse. After Saturday’s police fiasco, I’d gotten the tongue-lashing of a lifetime from Tom, who just happened to check in at the restaurant while I was late getting back. To make matters worse, he’d gotten Matt in trouble. I’d spent the whole weekend feeling guilty.

But JT’s drama faded into oblivion when I stepped into the Lacey Township High and spotted Aaron at his locker, surrounded by the dance team posse. It was too much. I knew right away that I couldn’t deal with seeing him every day in class.

“I can’t stay in there!” My poor English teacher would see my transfer as a direct betrayal, but it couldn’t be helped. “I can’t focus. I can’t get anything done in there!”

The receptionist looked over her computer. “Hmm. I’m showing you have an A in the class. What seems to be the problem?” She peered at me, silver chains dangling from her wire-rimmed glasses.

“It’s a recent development.” I glowered at her, daring her to ask any more questions.

“Ah.” She folded her arms across the desk, her eyes taking on a placid expression. “Does this involve a boy?”

I
know
my face flushed. I felt the heat rise from my cheeks to my forehead. “Never mind.” I gathered my books up and headed for the door.

“Has he threatened you?” she called after me. “Harassed you? I can transfer you if he has.”

I turned around. “No. I just don’t want to see him anymore.”

“Is he stalking you?”

I considered that one. Depending on the definition, maybe. But I couldn’t get Aaron in trouble. He hadn’t done anything wrong, really. “No.”

She reached up and patted her hair-sprayed white hair, looking sympathetic. “Then I’m afraid we can’t do a transfer.”

“I know,” I sighed. “I heard you the first time.” I walked out, letting the door swing shut behind me. I should have expected as much. Of course they weren’t going to just let me switch classes. And I couldn’t skip, either.

When fourth hour came, I tried waiting in the classroom across the hall until Aaron went into English. But when he arrived, he stayed in the doorway, chatting  with each classmate before they entered, but not entering himself. I felt my heart sink. “Go on, Aaron!” I hissed. “Get in there!”

Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I spun around. Mr. Joenks, the chemistry teacher, hovered above me.

“Yes?” I squeaked, pulling my books against my chest.

“The tardy bell will ring in a moment.” His bushy brows met in a ridge above his eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

“Yeah.” I backed out of the room. “Just getting there.” I turned around and faced my destiny.

“Jayne.” Aaron stepped toward me. It took every ounce of determination that I had to keep walking and not stop to talk to him. “I—”

I brushed past him, my shoulder momentarily touching his before I crossed the doorway and dropped into an empty chair between the wall and another student. Then I busied myself with getting out my English assignment, knowing my face was flushed with shame at having treated Aaron that way. But what was I supposed to do? If I was rude enough, maybe he would lose interest.

I put my hands in my hair and pulled on my scalp. Oh why, oh why, did I have to return his interest? It made everything twice as hard!

As soon as class finished, I shot out of the room, practically climbing over my desk to get ahead of the other students.
Next time
, I thought to myself,
sit close to the door.
I felt more confident already. I’d get this avoiding thing down.

Luckily, I didn’t have to work tonight, and I doubted he would be at the lacrosse game. One less avenue for Aaron to hunt me in.

I stayed late after school, working on my sports column. I had journalism seventh hour, but I was a bit behind on my deadlines. The journalism room was more like a closet with a window surrounded by computers. Cozy.

I got to work, pausing for a break only after I’d finished my write-up of last Friday’s basketball game. I glanced at my watch. It was a quarter to four, and the sun warmed my shoulders through the window behind me.

My stomach churned a little at the thought of the lacrosse game. Stephen would be there, and much as I tried not to, I couldn’t help remembering the kiss between us. We hadn’t spoken since that incident, though I’d ignored countless phone calls. Was ignoring boys my new lifestyle?

Don’t think about it.
Another girl was about to walk into his life. And I, apparently, was to be the second choice for every guy I met. I hated that feeling.

I turned back to the computer and started on the March game highlights. Sports were the only thing I wrote about. I never interviewed the players, and therefore never got close enough to them to See anyone. One time I’d tried to write about the homecoming court when our activities columnist was down with mono. I only Saw one person in the court, but it was enough. Every time I typed her name for the article, her numbered days passed before me, leaving me trembling and crying. I ended up giving my notes to someone else so they could write it.

Never again. Now I stuck to sports.

Dana caught me by surprise when she opened the door and dumped a bag full of Taco Bell in front of me.

I lifted my head, the smell of cheese and spicy ground beef bringing me back to the present. Suddenly famished, I tore open a sauce packet and layered a burrito.

“Who says that’s for you?” Dana laughed, plunking down in the seat across from me. She picked up a chalupa and took a bite. “Saw your car out front,” she said around a mouth full of taco. “Thought you might be hungry.”

“Thought right. Thanks so much.” Though I hadn’t noticed the hunger until she came in. I glanced over my finished column. “I’m done with this anyway. I’ll just do some homework before the game. What are you doing?”

Dana cleared her throat. I lifted my eyes to her face, recognizing the sound. Something was on her mind. “What?”

Dana shrugged one shoulder. “Well, listen, I don’t know what’s going on in your pretty little head over Aaron—” I dropped my eyes. “And it’s really none of my business. But...” She pulled out a slip of paper and waved it at me. “Homeboy wanted me to give you this.”

I stared at it, dancing seductively in front of my face. There was no way I was touching that paper.

“Don’t want it?” She arched her brows. “That’s fine.” She pulled her hand back.

I reached out and snatched it from her before she could put it away. “Give it here,” I grumbled.

She settled back in her chair, sipping her soda with a satisfied smile on her face.

I opened the paper, my heart pounding, not sure what to expect. Staring back at me were seven digits. “His phone number?”

“Yep.” Dana leaned forward again. “Listen, I don’t know what went down between you two after the game Friday. But I don’t think he’s ready to be written off yet. He asked for your number.”

I gaped at my best friend, a shiver of expectation racing down my spine. “But you didn’t give it to him, did you?”

“Oh, Jaynie.” Dana gave me her most pathetic expression. “He looked so forlorn and cast off. I had to ease his pain.”

I groaned. “Dana! How am I supposed to avoid him if he can call me?”

She shrugged, not looking at all remorseful. “You’ve been managing just fine with Stephen, haven’t you?” Before I could retort or even ask how she knew that, she continued. “Don’t answer his calls if you don’t want to talk to him. He’ll get the hint. Besides, he seems like such a nice guy. Do you know where he was going?” She didn’t give me a chance to tell her that I didn’t care. “To the hospital. He works there. In the children’s ward.” She leaned back in her chair and sucked on her straw, eyes on me.

I glared at her. She knew me too well. She knew I would cave every time I saw his number on my phone, and I would answer it. “Some best friend you are.”

She picked up a gordita and handed it to me. “No need to thank me. I know you’re grateful.” She flashed me a grin. “Looks like one of us might have a date to prom after all.”

“Dana.” I took the gordita and bit into it viciously. “Did you miss the whole other
girl
at the game? He is
not
going to ask me to prom. He’s just going to torment me.”

“Hmm.” Dana winked her blue eyes at me. “We’ll see.”

We finished up our Taco Bell and headed outside to the field. The game didn’t start until four-thirty, but it was such a beautiful day that I couldn’t help wanting to get outside and soak up some sunshine. I squinted up at the sky above me, thoughts of serial killers seeming much less tangible in the radiant sunlight. Aaron, on the other hand, felt very real.

“Maybe spring is finally here.” Dana sat sideways on the metal bleachers, spreading her white eyelet dress around her.

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” I agreed. Sometimes the weather had a hard time making up its mind in New Jersey. We wouldn’t have consistent warmth until May or even June.

A whistle blew, and we turned our attention to the field as the lacrosse team trotted out. My eyes were drawn to number eleven. I watched Stephen go through his warm-up drill, the movements of his shoulders and legs so familiar to me. I felt a longing in my chest and shook it off.

As if sensing my eyes, Stephen looked up. He waved.

“Did Stephen just wave at you?” Dana hissed.

Fairly obvious. I ducked my head, busying myself with my recorder.

The whistle blew a few minutes later. I didn’t have to look to know they were taking a break from the pre-game workout.

“Jayne? Stephen’s coming.”

I lifted my eyes to see him jogging over. Stephen Harris. Sweat dripped down his chin and his face was flushed, but there was no denying how attractive he was.

He paused in front of us and leaned over, putting a foot up on the bleachers and resting an elbow on his knee. “Hey ladies,” he said, his green eyes lighting on me. He panted, still catching his breath. “Nice of you to come watch.”

Did he actually look hopeful? I exhaled and stuck the tip of my ring finger in my mouth, nibbling away at the nail. “I’m just here for class. The paper. You know.” I waved my recorder at him in case he had any doubt.

“Of course. Thanks for coming.” He pulled a towel from his shoulders and rubbed his face. “Want to hang out after the game?”

I did, but not because of Stephen. Aaron’s face flashed through my mind, and I realized with a rush of guilt that I wanted to hang out more to make Aaron jealous than to be with Stephen. I couldn’t do that to him. We had a long history together, and I couldn’t hurt him just because he’d hurt me.

Aaron was a different story. I wanted desperately to get back at him. How petty of me.

The whistle blew again, and Coach Matthews yelled, “Harris! Get over here!”

Stephen jumped up. “Call me,” he said as he mimed holding a phone to his ear.

I nodded, and he smiled. Then he hurried off.

He was barely out of earshot when Dana jumped all over me—well, not literally. “What gives, Jayne? You look at him like you want to be with him, but then you blow him off. Are you playing hard to get?”

“I miss him,” I admitted, trying to understand my feelings myself. “I know Stephen. It feels natural to be with him. But I can’t stop thinking of...” My voice trailed off as I remembered how useless it was to pursue the boy I was thinking of.

“Aaron,” Dana finished for me. She gave me a soulful look. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I turned my recorder on and began video-taping, making a conscious effort to focus on more than just Stephen.

“You have too many admirers. Who’s that guy up there?” Dana cocked her head up to the bleachers behind us.

I turned to see a guy with a baseball cap watching us. His face was hidden by the bill, but his gaze seemed to focus right on us. I studied his physique. Didn’t look like Aaron. “Maybe he’s one of your admirers. I don’t know him.”

Dana laughed. “My admirers would never come to a high school lacrosse game.”

“Well, you’re just way cooler than me,” I replied, annoyed. I turned back to the game, my good mood completely dampened.

It was almost six by the time I got home. I didn’t stay for the post-game activities lest Stephen should try and talk to me. In spite of trying not to look for Aaron, I couldn’t deny the disappointment sitting heavily in my chest when he didn’t show up.

Mom must have had a rough day showing houses, because the first thing that greeted me when I walked in the door was the smell of banana bread. I inhaled deeply. My mom made the best banana bread, complete with a lavender glaze on top. I knew why she did it, too; the lavender had a soothing, calming effect. Just the scent of that bread washed away my anxiety over Stephen, Aaron, and my crappy weekend.

“Mom?” I paused in the kitchen.

“Hi, honey.” She gave me a quick hug, then wiped some flour from my face. “Oh, sorry. How was the game?”