Over the Moon (11 page)

"Are you and Andrew a couple now? I guess you owe him your
life." He said it with distain, as if it were some kind of dirty little
secret.

"Yes, as if that's any of your business," I said. Why couldn't he
leave me alone? I didn't want to have this conversation with him.
Who died and put him in charge of judging my personal life? I sat
back and folded my arms across my chest and frowned at him, willing him to shut up.

"You know there's something weird about him. You should be
more selective about who you choose to date," he said, leering back
at me. "Andrew acts like he's all superior, but I think he's faking it. In
fact, there's something off with that whole family. They've probably
got some bodies buried in their basement or worse. Your boyfriend
can't be as perfect as he pretends. He's got to be hiding something.
When everything falls apart, remember that I warned you. Mark
my words; you're going to be sorry if you let yourself fall for Andrew
Martin. You're just begging for a mega-dose of grief? If you don't see
that coming, you deserve what you get."

How dare he trash my boyfriend? I didn't want to dignify his
words with an answer, so I bit my tongue and tried not to say anything that I would regret later. What was his problem?

Mr. Tate interrupted our conversation at that moment, saving me from offending Skylar, and said, "Welcome to Spanish, Mr.
Whitehorse. I am going to assume that your behavior will be nothing short of impeccable in my class. I will not allow any disturbances
in here. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir!" Skylar said.

He glared at me, shooting me another contemptuous grin, and
turned around. I had this wicked desire to smack that smirk off his
face and into the next state over. I think that would be Colorado.
Too bad I didn't have the power to send his whole irritating face to
Denver. Where was I when God passed out the superpowers?

I ignored him for the duration of the class. Every time I glanced at the back of his head, I fought off a compelling desire to stab him
with my pen. I hoped Andrew was waiting for me in the hall. I made
a hasty exit. He was there, and I was ecstatic to see him.

"Skylar's been harassing you, hasn't he?" he asked, looking at me
knowingly.

I nodded, too annoyed to speak. How did he know everything?

"Don't judge him too harshly. He had a brutal first period.
He had to transfer into your Spanish class because Kyra Kovac's
real boyfriend, Bret Decker, punched him out in German after he
embellished some details about what happened on their date. He
and Bret got kicked out of Mrs. Buehler's class. Evidently, Kyra
went out with Skylar because Bret procrastinated asking her to the
dance. Bret wrongly assumed he didn't have to ask, since they've
been together for months. Jordan took a picture of the punch and
sent it to everyone's phone. Kyra dumped Skylar by texting him right
after that class when she heard what he said. Skylar's mad about getting dumped, but I think he's angrier at Jordan for broadcasting the
event. Bret chose to take French."

"Wow! How do you know all that?" I demanded. I was beginning to feel like I'd landed in the middle of a crazy teen soap opera
without a script.

"I heard the buzz. Talk travels faster than light speed in these
halls." He laughed, pulled out his phone and showed me Skylar's most
embarrassing moment. He left me in front of geography and flashed
me an amused smile. "Have fun with Jordan. I'll save you a place in the
lunchroom." I watched him walk off with sudden dread.

Oh crap. I had forgotten all about Jordan! I entered the room
and took my seat. I hadn't spoken to him since the accident. Mom
said he had called twice while I was napping yesterday.

He entered and settled into the desk behind me. I pretended
to be absorbed in my notes. We were overdue for a pop quiz. He
touched my shoulder.

"So, do you hate me?" he whispered when I didn't turn around.
I realized I was going to have to face this problem. He wouldn't go
away by himself, no matter how much I wished he would.

"No, I don't hate you, Jordan. Why would you say that?" I turned
to look at him.

"Oh, because I nearly killed you," he said, looking ashamed of
himself.

"It was an accident." I shrugged. "And I survived."

"Let me make it up to you. I'll do anything! You have to forgive
me. I want to make it better," he was begging now.

"That isn't necessary," I insisted. "It wasn't your fault."

Tiffany sat down and interrupted our discussion

"Did I see you get out of Andrew Martin's car this morning?
You are so lucky. He looks at you like you're a princess."

"I know." I matched her enthusiasm. "It's all too good to be
true!"

"So that's it," Jordan growled. "He saved your life, and now he's
Prince Charming? I really hate him."

"Give it up, Jordan. "Tiffany laughed. "Besides, Alexis wants you
back. She was really jealous at the dance."

"She was?" He seemed a little less depressed.

"Oh yes! I think she'll treat you better now. You should thank
Tiana for that." She gave me a conspiratorial smile. She was pouring it
on, and I was duly grateful. It would save me a lot of guilt and grief.

"Can we be friends, Jordan? Just friends?" I saw my opportunity
and took it without missing a beat.

"I'll have to think about that," he said hesitantly.

"This is what I want. Please, Jordan. I just want us to be friends,
okay?"

"Okay, we're friends," he grumbled. He added something that
sounded like for now" under his breath. I wasn't sure I had heard
him correctly, so I ignored it.

"Thanks, Jordan." I almost hugged him. I was so glad to have
that mess cleared up. It was as if a massive backpack full of concrete
had been removed from my shoulders. I hoped Alexis would back
off too, seeing as I had sent her pet puppy back to her. Unfortunately
for me, I didn't know just how stubborn that doggedly persistent
puppy could be.

After class, Tiffany watched me jump out of my seat. "He's
meeting you for lunch, isn't he?"

"I think so," I admitted.

"You two are the talk of the school. He is so into you. It's like no
one else exists when he sees you."

"I don't know about that, but I really like him!" There. I said
it out loud. I really, really liked him. I might even be in love with
him. Oh no, no way! This was bad. I had never believed in love at
first sight. I was being pitiful, pathetic, like a cheesy, sentimental
show tune. I used to make fun of girls who acted stupid like this.
I had promised myself over and over again that I would never turn
into one of those lamentable, love-struck zombie girls. Things were
moving too fast. I must be out of my mind!

Then I saw him waiting for me by the lunchroom doors, and my
cheesy heart nearly leapt out of my cheesy chest. His eyes met mine,
and I just gave up. I was a goner. I couldn't fight this. He put his arm
around my waist and guided me to a table with two trays of food.

"How was Jordan?" he asked casually. "Did he beg you to forgive
him and vow to make it up to you somehow?"

"Wow, were you there? That is exactly what happened!" I don't
know why I was surprised. I was ready to accept the fact that he was
magic or psychic.

"And what did you say to him?" He looked at me through the
dark fringe of his eyelashes and waited for my reply.

"I told him to stop it. Then I asked him if we could just be
friends. He finally agreed, but I think he hates you!" I giggled. "I
believe he's going back to Alexis."

"I can live with that. They definitely deserve each other. Oh,
by the way, I don't think Alexis will be writing those hateful, mean
messages to you anymore." He seemed to be as pleased as I was with
the outcome.

"I heard a rumor about you and Alexis." I was being incredibly
bold, but I had to know what had really happened between him and
my arch nemesis.

"What did you hear?" He looked instantly annoyed when I mentioned her name. I was treading on dangerous ground. I could tell he
didn't want to talk about this. When had that ever stopped me?

"Did she want you to take her to prom last year?" I asked
innocently.

"She followed me everywhere. She wrote messages on my locker
with her red lipstick. She left notes on my car. She called my house. I
nearly had to take out a restraining order. She was almost impossible
to discourage. I gave up competitive sports because she's a cheerleader." He looked positively livid. "She is downright evil. I finally
told her she was wasting her time and that if she were the last girl on
earth, I wouldn't date her. I think she hates me now. I hope so."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories." I touched
his hand.

"I saw her push you down at the dance," he whispered as his eyes
seemed to bore holes through mine with a burning intensity.

"No! How could you see anything? It was so dark."

"I have excellent night vision. I saw her slink away." His indignation was apparent even though he hadn't raised his voice. There
was no room for doubt. He was telling me the truth.

We left the lunchroom in silence. He left me at the door to my
math class. His revelation jolted my mind to attention, making me
think about stuff I didn't want to acknowledge. I would have rather
listened to Mr. Porter's boring mathematical explanations than come
to grips with my sudden adverse awareness, but it was no use. I had
a hard time even feigning an interest in the problems he was solving
on the white board. I had my own much more difficult problems,
and they were currently demanding my full concentration, although
I seriously had no idea how to solve them.

I reviewed the infuriating facts. So Alexis had not only left me
nasty notes, she had also assaulted me at the dance. Leave it to me
to aggravate a high-maintenance, violent, crazy cheerleader. It didn't
matter that I hadn't meant to offend her. She didn't care that I was
only trying to be nice to her favorite longtime admirer. She might
also be mad because the one boy she couldn't captivate was showing an interest in me. I hoped she would be appeased by Jordan's return.
I didn't want any more sickening hate mail left on my locker door.
I didn't want or need this kind of drama in my life. I was perfectly
capable of creating my own sort of drama, thank you very much!

After spacing out during math, I entered the girl's locker room
and dressed for further humiliation. I made it through gym class
without injuring myself, which was not an easily accomplished feat.
We were attempting to play basketball this week. Mark used to
make me play with him when he couldn't pick on anyone else, so I
had developed some skills, and I actually have a pretty good shot. I
pretended the opposing team's star players were Alexis and Skylar. (I
didn't care if his love life was in the toilet. It didn't give him the right
to disrespect Andrew and to call my romantic aspirations into question.) And I imagined I had skills that rivaled Lebron James and
Kobe Bryant. I immensely enjoyed kicking their sorry butts around
the court. We won, and our victory made me feel oddly vindicated.

Things fell downhill from there. We read our papers on A Midsummer Night's Dream in English. Miss Cole loved Andrew's; mine,
not so much. Miss Cole thought Andrew walked on water and
everything he wrote was of great literary worth. I'm almost certain
she didn't give him extra points for being hot because that would
have been completely inappropriate. Whatever the reason, he was
definitely her favorite student. I was depressed. English had always
been my best subject. I had forever been the designated "teacher's
pet" in all my past English classes. Maybe she just really enjoyed
hearing his irresistible accent while he read. I had to admit it did
make listening to him much more appealing.

After school, he drove me home and stayed to help me with my
precalculus deficiency.

"Is there anything you can't do?"

"What do you mean?"

"How come you are so competent at absolutely everything? It's
unnatural, and it's unfair!" I threw my arms up in the air with a
melodramatic flourish.

"I'm hardly perfect." He laughed at my theatrics. "I can't figure
you out. You are so observant and sensitive to everyone around you,
but you can't see yourself with clarity. You look at the world in this
funny, fresh, and unique way. I find you completely irresistible."

He reached across the dining room table, took my face in his
hands, and kissed me softly. This was our first real kiss. It was sweet
and gentle, and I felt a sudden flash of energy surge through my
body all the way to the soles of my feet. I had the compulsive urge to
leap over the table into his lap, but somehow I managed to control
myself. I was still afraid I might ruin the moment if I reacted with
too much ardor. I didn't want him to jump up and run away.

That night after he left, I washed the concealer off my face.
The bruises on my face were no longer visible. They had completely
faded away.