Secrets & Surrender: Part One (4 page)

“Fine,” I growled. “Ten.”

“Forty.”

“Fifteen.”

“Thirty.”

“Twenty.”

“Deal.” She gave my hand a firm shake. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” I yelled after when she dashed toward the DJ.

A couple of seconds later she was back and grabbed my hand. We danced in Mandi and Buster’s direction. “Watch and learn, brother dear.”

Just as the song was ending, she suddenly bumped into Buster and “accidentally” tripped in front of him. He stopped, helping her up.

“Oh, thank you.” She batted her lashes. “I’m feeling a little bit woozy.”

“Are you okay?” Buster asked.

“I, uh, I think I might...” She paused as if waiting for something. When the song stopped, she smiled. “I could use a cold drink.” She fluttered her lashes again.

There was a sudden shift in the music, and the upbeat of a pop song blared from the speakers.

“I totally love this song,” Mandi squealed. “Come on, Buster.”

Buster’s eyes bounced from Mandi to Bianca and then to me.

Bianca’s elbow made contact with my ribs. “Me too. It’s one of my favorites. I’ll dance with you, Mandi.”

Bianca and Mandi did a double take.

What did I say? They’re staring at me like I’d grown a horn on my head or something.

“Come on, Buster. Is that your name? That’s bitchin’. So are you on the football team? Do you know about the cheerleader tryouts? I was thinking about joining next week. Maybe you could introduce me.” She tucked her arm around a stunned Buster, babbling as she led him away, leaving me alone with Mandi.

For a moment, Mandi just stood there, jaw dropped, appearing astonished that Bianca had swept her dance partner away. Then she shrugged and took my hand. “I guess it’s just you and me, Nic.”

That touch, that one simple touch, was electrifying.

I reached out to her, eager to place my hands on her curvy hips, when I froze. I finally recognized the singer. Rick Astley’s voice bounced off the walls.

I balked. Did I just say I loved a Rick Astley song?

I’d been so busy staring at Mandi, I hadn’t realized that the dance floor had pretty much cleared out. There were only two other brave couples left on the dance floor. I could feel dozens of eyes staring at us.

Part of me wanted to run out of the room. No man in his right mind would dance to this kind of music. But I had asked her dance with me, and here she was, dancing. I swallowed my pride and squared my shoulders. Let’s do this, Marcelli.

Slowly, I moved my feet from side to side.

“You call that dancing?” She bumped my hip with hers. She was stunning. Waves of dark hair flew as she swung her head from side to side. Her large hoop earrings hit lightly against her flawless skin. She was in her own little world as her tiny body swung to the beat. I was so mesmerized that I forgot which foot was moving. Stumbling, I stood up straight, and tried not to squish her tiny feet with mine.

She laughed as she watched me. I wasn’t much of dancer, and it was a miracle that I was moving at all. From the corner of my eye, I caught Bianca with Buster. Her jaw was hanging open as she watched my lame attempt at dancing. I was never going to hear the end of it when we got home. Maybe if I gave her an extra twenty, I could bribe her from telling her friends.

“I could say the same about you.” I grinned. “What’s with all the jumping up and down?”

I couldn’t take my eyes off her hips as she moved them. Her dance moves were like a mix of some type of Latin and hip hop. I was spellbound.

“Jealous much?”

“Maybe.” I winked as I tried to mirror her moves. “So, Mandi, I was wondering if you’d like to go to the movies with me sometime.”

“Nope.” She twirled around.

“No?”

“That’s right. I said ‘no.’”

“Why not?”

“Don’t wanna.”

Red stained lips curled into a sexy smile, making my heart slam into double time. Was she intentionally trying to torture me? Her hips swung back and forth as she waved her hands above her head. My hands itched to touch her, to grab ahold of those curves that were constantly moving.

What the hell is wrong with you, Marcelli?

I’d never had any problems getting a girl. It was like my brain had suddenly gone into bumbling nerd mode.

I reached out, my feet moving carefully closer to the sexy girl bouncing in front of me. Then she started singing the chorus to “Never Gonna Give You Up,” her sweet voice drifting over the music.

“Never gonna run around a dessert spoon.”

I froze at the lyrics.

“Why did you stop? Tired already?” She eyeballed my feet.

“Uh, did you say something about a dessert spoon?”

“Yeah, that’s the lyrics to the song. Duh. The guy’s saying that he’s never going to run around with a dessert spoon.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

She stopped, frowning. “Have you even listened to the song?”

“I think the phrase is ‘desert you.’”

She placed her hands on her curvy hips. “Now
that
doesn’t make sense. Why is he going to say that he’s never going to give up the girl he loves and then in the next sentence say he’s going to desert her.”

“I don’t think that’s what the song means.”

She folded her hand across her chest. “Oh, really. So Mr.-Know-it-all-I’m-Rick-Astley’s-number-one-fan what is the song about?”

“Okay, look. I confess. I’m not really a Rick Astley fan.”

Her jaw dropped then she shut it, those luscious lips turning into a thin line.

Shit! Way to go, Marcelli.
Now she was really pissed.

“Then you obviously don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You can tell me about it...over dinner.” I leaned in close, my hand sweeping over her silky hair.

Her breath hitched, her eyes growing wide.

Yes!

“I could pick you up tomorrow night at—”

The song stopped and there was a chorus of groans as Boy George’s voice filtered through the air. Mandi shook her head as if coming out of a trance and gave out a high-pitched squeal, “Eeep, Culture Club! That’s Buster’s favorite song. Buster!”

“Wait. What about dinner?” I yelled after her. I watched helplessly as she bounced back to Buster, pulling him away from Bianca.

Bianca shrugged. Then she rubbed her fingers together with a smirk, reminding me to pay up.

Mandi placed her hands on Buster’s broad shoulders. He placed his thick hands around her tiny waist. Somehow, Buster was able to figure out how to turn the song into a two-step dance.

My jaw tightened as I watched Mandi in his arms and, for the first time in my life, I was jealous. She didn’t care that I was the quarterback of the football team. She didn’t fall for any of my normal moves. She didn’t even look in my direction.

“Hey, did you hear what I said?” Bianca poked my arm.

“Did you say something?”

A hand waved in front of my face. “Earth to Nic! I said, ‘let’s book.’ The music’s so lame. Seriously. Boy George?”

“Yeah.”

I glanced back at Mandi as she smiled up at Buster. People stared as she moved around the dance floor with him. She didn’t even notice them or care that they were watching. I placed my hand on the door handle, holding it open for Bianca as I watched them dance. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a few of the girls staring after me, pouting.

“Mother was totally lying. She said it wouldn’t be so bad living in a small town. Man, going to school next week is going to be torture. I can feel it,” Bianca said as we walked out. “And don’t forget you owe me twenty.”

I hadn’t wanted to move either, not that we had a choice. This was just another one of our father’s strategic moves. His political ambitions always trumped family. I had hoped that maybe he’d be so busy that he wouldn’t care whether or not I was on the football team. I’d never been so relieved to miss football tryouts. I should’ve known that Father would pull some strings to get me on the team, even if it was at a small high school like Koppe. I guess a big fish in a small pond was good enough for him.

I looked over to Mandi. There was just something about her that drew me to her. One way or another, I was going to get her to go out with me.

“Wait in the car. I’ll be right there,” I called to Bianca when I spotted Tricia. “Hey, Tricia!”

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah, Bianca’s not feeling well.” I wasn’t about to tell one of the few nice girls I’d met in Koppe that my sister thought her party was lame.

“Oh, tell her I hope she feels better soon.”

“I was wondering something. Can we this conversation between the two of us?”

“Sure.”

“Are Mandi and Buster a couple?”

“No, they’re just good friends. They have been since she moved from Los Angeles and—oh! You like her.”

“Maybe.” I gritted my teeth. This was so embarrassing. I felt like I was in junior high or something.

She giggled. “Okay, well, she doesn’t have a boyfriend, and I haven’t never seen her date anyone since she moved here. She’s really smart, you know. She’s taking all advanced classes. We’re taking AP calculus together this year.”

I groaned. There was no way Mandi and I would be in any of the same classes. Maybe I could get the old man to pull some strings and get me into AP calculus. I sucked at math. I also sucked at chemistry. It would be be a minor miracle if I got into a decent college. As much as I hated to admit it, the Marcelli name opened doors, even Ivy League ones. I’ve always hated that. But for once, I hoped it would open the door to the AP calculus class at Koppe High.

“Remember, don’t say a word.”

“My lips are sealed.” She grinned.

Mandi and Buster were by the bar. She thanked him as he handed her a bottle of soda. Mesmerized, I watched as she took a long drink and slowly licked the red residue from her lips. And at that moment, I made a vow.

One day, I was going to kiss those lips.

“C
assie, will you do me a favor and hand me the green eye shadow?”

“Uh, okay. Wouldn’t you like your clothes instead?” Her brown eyes looked everywhere except directly at me, her face turning pink.

Chuckling, I twirled a lock of hair around the curling iron. Cassie was definitely not used to my dressing routine. Every morning before the first class bell rang, I stripped off the goody two shoes, Catholic schoolgirl outfit and put on what I considered to be normal clothes that any teen girl would wear. Well, any teen who wasn’t from Texas, that is. I guess she wasn’t comfortable seeing me in my undies while I got ready. And by the look of the other girls who walked into the restroom and immediately walked out, they weren’t either. I couldn’t help that my boobs were twice the size of theirs.

“I will. After I finish curling my hair. Wanna use my iron?” Cassie was a natural beauty with those big brown doe eyes and a natural pink flush on her cheeks. She didn’t need any makeup. Some girls had all the luck.

“I have to stop by the main office before class.” She handed me the eye shadow.

“Oh, really.” I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re not just going to wander around the halls looking for Cody?”

“No.” She looked down, playing with a loose thread on her pink blouse. She was too cute. She couldn’t hide anything from me.

“Uh-huh.” I turned my attention back to the mirror.

“Really, I’m not. I’m not even sure we’re friends anymore. He didn’t even write to me once when I was in Houston.”

“Come on, Cassie. You know Cody. It would’ve been more shocking if he had written you. The man barely talks. He’d probably send a piece of paper with the word ‘Hey’ on it.” I plopped the shadow back into my bag and started putting on the first of five layers of mascara. “Besides, I have a feeling he’ll find you.”

“Really?” Her face brightened.

“Yeah. At Tricia’s party he—”

The first bell rang, followed by the loud twang of Willie Nelson’s voice filtering through the speakers.

“Why are they playing country music on the loud speaker?” Cassie asked.

“Last year some moron decided that it’d be a good idea to play music in between classes so that we’d know how long we had to get to class.”

“Ooh, that’s a good idea.”

“It would be if they didn’t only play—ugh, gag me—country music.”

She chuckled. “I’m surprised you haven’t slipped into the office and switched all the CDs with Rick Astley.”

“I did. I got Saturday suspension too. It wasn’t pretty either. Mom totally flipped out. Have you ever seen her mad. Spanish flies out of her mouth a thousand words a minute. I could barely understand a word she was saying, she was so pissed.” I slid red lipstick on my lips, and then blotted with a tissue. “Hey, you better hurry up if you’re going to the main office first.”

“Okay. See you at lunch in the courtyard.”

“Yeah,” I said, slipping a green blouse over my head. “If I survive Mr. Boney’s AP calculus class.”

* * *

T
here should be some kind of Olympic competition for running in heels because if there was, I’d totally win the gold. Seriously, with my books and purse, I was probably carrying at least fifteen pounds. My necklaces bounced against my chest and my bracelets clinked as I dashed down the hall. Mr. Boney, who I liked to call Mr. Bonehead, was a major a-hole. Word in the school was that he was some brilliant math god or something from Columbia University, who couldn’t keep a steady job because of his drinking problem. Apparently, he was some distant cousin of the principal, and that’s how he’d gotten his job at Koppe High.

Willie Nelson stopped crooning just as I reached the door.

“Ms. Ruiz, I see that we are fashionably late.” Mr. Bonehead eyed my outfit as I panted, leaning against the door. “Will we be making this a habit as you did last year?”

I could feel at least a dozen pairs of eyes on me. I was used to their staring. Everyone knew everyone at this school. They were either all related or they’d grown up together since birth.

Mr. Bonehead’s beady gray eyes watched me carefully. He was trying to take me down a notch. He tried to do the same thing last year, telling me that he didn’t think I had what it took to pass his class. That just pissed me off, and gave me all the determination I needed to earn an “A.”