Second to No One (27 page)

She sat up and shrugged. “A castle.” She picked up a different colored pencil and went back to work with absolute focus. “Are you here to see me or Jess?” she asked as she pulled a purple pencil from the box.

I smiled at her innocence. “Both.”

“Jess threw up in the bathroom. It was gross.”

I pointed to one of the flags on her castle. “I think that one should be green.”

She considered my suggestion but colored it purple anyway. “Vivian’s at Brooke’s house,” she offered. “They’re best friends but probably won’t be when we move.”

“That’s sad,” I said, and for whatever reason, the thought of it made me want to cry. “I bet you have some good friends you’re leaving behind too, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Maggie’s mouth was pressed into her propped up knee. “I don’t like moving very much.”

“I don’t either.”

Maggie looked at me in the eyes. “Have you ever moved before?”

“No. But I can’t think of a worse family moving than you guys.”

“Are you going to miss Jess?”

“Very much.”

“He’s going to miss you too.”

“Oh really?” I couldn’t keep my eyes from smiling. “How do you know that?”

“He spells your name with my alphabet cereal.”

A small puff of laughter escaped from my mouth. “Why is he playing with your food?”

“When I’m eating it at the kitchen table, he sits next to me and pulls letters from the box. He always spells your name.”

“Always? This has happened more than once?”

“Mmm.” Her mouth was back at her knee. “All the time. He’s been doing it forever.”

“Hey.” Both Maggie and I turned around to see Jess standing at the door. His hair was mussed, and his face was slightly pale. He was resting his head against the door pane for support. He looked at Maggie with a tired smile. “Are you telling secrets about me in here?”

“My lips are sealed,” I said as I stood up and walked over to him. “But you should know that I know that you have a really big crush on me.” I wrapped both of my arms gently around his waist as he pulled me in and pressed his lips against the top of my head.

“You figured me out,” he said softly.

“How are you feeling?” I asked as he took hold of my hand and led me into his room. He laid back down on his bed, and I sat on the quilt beside him.

“Like the makers of Hamburger Helper are serial killers.”

I brushed my hand over his forehead. “You think its food poisoning?”

Still holding my hand, Jess lowered his eye lids. “I think it is. That stuff just didn’t taste right.”

“But no one else in your family is sick.”

“They wouldn’t touch the stuff. I was the only one stupid enough. I’m sorry I ruined the plans you made…”

Before he could fully finish his sentence, his head fell heavy against his arm and his breath evened out to a steady pace. I knew he needed his sleep, but I didn’t want to leave him. Just sitting there watching him sleep was enough for me.

Then in the stillness of his darkening room, Jess squeezed my hand, “Gemma?” It was a faint whisper.

“Hmm?” I quietly replied.

“What Maggie was saying is true, you know. I really do have a big crush on you.”

I smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “I kind of suspected. But it’s nice to hear it.”

“And I’m afraid it’s not going to go away,” he continued with a hoarse voice and his eyes still closed. “I’m afraid I’ll always have a crush on you forever and ever.”

I laughed lightly and brushed my fingers through his hair. “How much medicine did your mom give you today?”

“Not enough,” he groaned.

I sat in silence watching him drift to sleep again but knowing that even though he was the one having the birthday, he had just given me the best present I could have asked for.

Gossip is a funny thing. It’s the way it starts then spreads then mutates then spreads some more. Then one day, it just stops, and before you know it you’re old news and the only thing anyone cares about anymore is Tom Kelly’s rock climbing accident and Rachel Miller’s tattoo.

But that’s what I was, old news, which was an enormous relief, and I found myself being able to walk through the halls of Franklin High once again without needing an inhaler. When Ms. Delrose called me to her desk at the end of fourth period, I couldn’t help but cringe. She hadn’t called me to her desk in weeks, and I had figured that she too had noticed my work wasn’t what it had been. I prepared myself for a reprimand.

Without saying a word she handed me my project. It had been a week since I turned it in. My stomach groaned as I turned it over to look for the grade. But the front page was blank. “I don’t understand.” I flipped through the first couple pages. “You didn’t grade it.”

Ms. Delrose sat back in her chair. “I couldn’t.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Putting a grade on those photos would be like putting a grade on the Bible.”

I scowled at her. “The Bible?”

“Okay, maybe that’s a bit over the top. But you have a gift, Gemma. I can’t grade your work. I can’t do it. It feels disrespectful.”

I looked at my pictures. I had gone into town and shot photos of old buildings and statues and a few of people eating in the outdoor cafes. They weren’t anything special or all that original. I wasn’t sure what she thought was so wonderful about them.

“I hear that you and that cute Jess Tyler are a couple.” When I looked up at Ms. Delrose, she was eyeing me with a mischievous grin.

“How do you know that?”

“The walls have ears.”

I twisted my lips. “Yeah, we are. The whole thing earlier this year was a misunderstanding.”

“Ah.” She nodded heavily. “Yes, there will always be misunderstandings in love. No matter how old you are.” She held her hand out toward my project. “But it looks like your theory about your work and your solitary life was incorrect. What a relief.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Okay then.” Ms. Delrose stood up and waved her hand at the door. “You’re free to go. Just keep doing…whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Can I ask you one more question?” I asked, and Ms. Delrose staggered to a stop.

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in a long-distance relationship?”

Ms. Delrose rested her hand on her side. “Yes. And it was awful. I wouldn’t put a dog I liked through that kind of torture. Why?”

“Jess is moving to Charleston.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” she shrugged and tried to look more positive, “it works for some people. And of course, you kids have technology on your side these days. But,” she sat forward and watched me with intense eyes, “you have to remember one thing.”

“Okay.”

“During the next year or two or ten that you are apart, you are both going to be growing and changing, and you can’t expect that either one of you will be the same person that you are today. You have to be prepared for that. You have to be prepared for him to be a different person, and more importantly you have to be prepared for you to be a different person. If both of you are open to each other’s changes, then maybe you’ll be okay.”

“I don’t want him to change. I don’t want anything to change. How can I possibly be prepared for that?”

Ms. Delrose raised her eyebrows and nodded at the irony. “You can’t. Not really. That’s why it’s so hard.” She looked lost in a daze until she looked back to me. “Have you decided what you’re doing next year? Did honors English win the war?”

“No, I haven’t decided yet.” Well, that wasn’t exactly true. The second she offered me AP Photography, I knew I’d do anything to make it happen. It was being her teacher’s aide that was going to be really tricky to fit in, but the way things were going with my mom lately and with my dad being so sick, I hadn’t found the courage to talk to them about either. Until I did, no decision could be officially made.

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said as she gathered her pens together in a pile. “But don’t take too long to decide. There’s a limited amount of room in my AP class, and I have a line of students asking to be my aide.”

I thanked her and left for fifth period. My life was stressful enough without her pressuring me to make more decisions. I couldn’t imagine Jess any different than he was now. He was perfect. He didn’t need to change. I didn’t want him to change. But what if he did? And what if I did? Would we even like each other after so much time away?

I went to Drew’s house after school to work on a history project. We were able to pick our own partners, and besides the fact that she was my best friend, I chose her because she knew history better than anyone else in the class. She had an amazing memory, and chapters that I had to study for days, she practically memorized after one read.

“I think your teacher is wrong,” she said as she took a bite of an Oreo. We were in her bedroom studying on her bed but were taking a minute out for a snack. “Jess isn’t going to change that much in a couple years. He’s the same guy today that he’s always been. Why would he suddenly change?”

“Because he’ll be in a new place with new people and new girls.” I separated my Oreo and licked the white cream inside. “And because the next time we can be together, we’ll both be adults. Everything will be different.”

“No.” She shook her head defiantly. “You guys will call and text and e-mail all the time. You’ll have contact every single day. You’ll know him the same way you know him now.”

“He wants us to date other people.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He keeps saying it, like there’s no other way around it. Part of me thinks it’s just so he can date all the new girls who will be throwing themselves at him in Charleston.”

Drew scowled. “Boys are so lame.”

“Do you ever talk to Lauren?” I asked still looking at my packet.

Drew looked up at me with her eyebrows pressed together. “Lauren James?”

“Mmhmm.”

“What brought her to mind?”

“I don’t know. I think about her sometimes. I still feel bad about what happened. I’ve thought about calling her a million times. But I’m sure she doesn’t want to hear from me.”

Drew pressed the top of her pen into her chin. “I need to show you something.” She got up off the floor and unplugged her pink laptop that was charging on top of her desk. She brought it over and sat down next to me. She pulled up her e-mail account. When her inbox came up on the screen, she clicked on a folder titled “Lauren.” When the list popped up, there were at least twenty or more e-mails from her. She scrolled down the list to an e-mail Lauren sent over a month before. “Here.” She clicked on the message then turned the laptop so I could read it. “I think this was meant for you anyway.”

To: drewm95

From: laurochick17

Subject: been thinking

Hey, Drew,

It’s Tuesday, which means meatloaf for lunch and a group meeting at 2:00 p.m. I hate group meetings. I hate hearing about other people’s problems. I hate knowing that I’m categorized as one of the crazies of the world. And I hate knowing that the people that are categorizing me as such are right. I remember the first time I realized I was different. I was in second grade, and Melissa Miller reached across my desk and took the pink crayon out of my crayon box. It made me so angry that I started to cry. Big, sloppy, tears ran around my cheeks and down the front of my shirt. The teacher tried to calm me down, but nothing she could do would help. The only thing that would help was pulling out my hair. Literally. I sat in a corner in the back of the room pulling quarter-sized chunks of hair out of my head until my mom finally showed up and dragged me kicking and screaming out of the school. That was the first time it occurred to me that I was different.

I told that to the group last week. I think I wanted them to laugh, point their fingers at me, and tell me how strange I am. But instead, they all nodded their heads with these horribly low sympathetic groans like they’ve been there before and they know how I feel. So I guess that means I’m not that different. I’m just sick. Somehow that’s not as cool.

I wish I could tell all of this to Gemma. I wish I could explain to her why I did all the things that I did. When I first met the two of you, I so badly wanted to be normal. But then Jess happened. He was the pink crayon, and Gemma was Melissa Miller all over again. And those horrible little pills were the only thing I could think of to make me feel better.

Here’s the thing though, and this is what I wish I could tell Gemma. The crayon box wasn’t even mine. It actually belonged to Melissa Miller in the first place. I had taken it from her when she wasn’t looking because my crayons were broken and stubby and hers were still shiny and new. She knew I had taken her box. She knew exactly what I had done. But she didn’t say a word about it. She just kept coloring quietly while I took advantage of her property. She wasn’t stealing the pink crayon, Drew. She was just taking back what was already hers.

It was the same with Gemma. I saw her life, her best friend, her family, her everything, and I wanted it. I wanted her perfect, shiny life because mine was broken. So I did everything I could to sneak it from under her nose. The only thing was that she knew what I was doing. She’s not stupid. But she let me do it anyway. She let me borrow you for six months. She let me think Jess liked me for such a long time and when I couldn’t have him, when he still wanted her, I did what I always do best. I went crazy.