The Love Story (The Things We Can't Change Book 4) (15 page)

“Hey yourself,” he says. “I’m sorry. I would have called or texted you or even stopped by. I was actually kind of worried. But I figured I should give you some space and butt out for a while.”

“It’s okay,” I say quickly, because it really is. Part of me wishes that he had checked up on me because I missed him but part of me is glad that he didn’t. It was the right thing to do. “I was with Jenny most of the time actually. So I wasn’t, you know, wallowing or doing badly or anything.”

“I thought it was weird when the two of you drove up together,” he comments, holding the door open for me. “What’s that about?”

“Well. She came to my house Friday night and apologized. And we talked.”

Zeke snorts. “About time, if you ask me.”

“Hey,” I admonish gently as we stop at our lockers. “She was just a little lost. Not all of us are as smart and clever and genius as Zeke Quain.”

Backpack put away, Zeke leans next to my locker and smirks. “Yeah, I am pretty great, aren’t I?”

I roll my eyes at him but oddly enough, the teasing makes me feel worlds better. Zeke is in a better mood and if being on a break is what gets him to be happier, then I’m happy to do it. Everything is going to be okay, I realize suddenly. We’re going to get through this. I’m going to get through this because I want Zeke badly enough to fight for him. To fight so there can finally
be
an us.

“I wanted to thank you,” I say impulsively, closing my locker and looking up at Zeke.

“For what?” He’s flipping through his sketchbook with a frown, no doubt critiquing his work. I feel a glow of pleasure that I’m the one who got him drawing again.

“For what you did. For making me take a break. I’ve come to realize that you were right. I still have some stuff to work out. Thank you for…
caring
enough to force me into it.” I smile at him during my purposeful pause and word choice.

Zeke stares at me for a long moment and then leans forward and kisses me gently on the forehead. I scowl at him after he pulls away.

“One, it’s not nice to tease me like that and two, doesn’t kissing or touching violate the rules of being on a break?”

“We’re on a break. Not taking a vow of celibacy.” He shudders and then puts an arm around me and guides me down the hallway. “Come on. I’ll walk you to first period. Also, why in the world do you want to be on the dance committee?”

“Oh, that.” I quickly explain Jenny’s idea of joining a Tiffany-free environment and Zeke’s eyebrows rise.

“Wow. That’s actually pretty genius. Jenny just rose up about ten points in my book.”

I laugh and we part ways at my classroom door. I walk in and take my seat, preparing myself for another day of bullying and tedium. Except for one thing.

I look across the room and catch Jenny’s eye. We smile at each other.

They learn of Jenny’s betrayal between third and fourth period. I knew it would happen sooner or later but I’d hoped it would at least wait until after school. Still, Jenny and I turn from my locker and almost run straight into Tiffany, Grace, and Chantal. Trying furiously not to touch any of them, I backpedal so quickly I hit the lockers behind me.

“So,” Tiffany says, eyes narrowed as she looks from Jenny to me and back. “I see you finally won Jenny over. Although given her preference of men, I should have guessed it was just a matter of time.”

Jenny and I trade a look but stay silent. I can’t think of anything to say and even if I could, my heart is pounding so loudly I can barely focus. They’re standing so close, far too close. They’re in my personal space and it sends all my senses into hyperdrive.

“Enjoy your time with the whores and gutter rats, Jenny,” Chantal chimes in. “You won’t be able to claw your way up as quickly as you fell.”

They turn and leave and my heart rate slowly returns to normal.

“You okay?” Jenny asks and I nod.

Slowly, our steps turn toward our fourth period class.

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” I burst out suddenly. “We’re seventeen years old and we’re allowing ourselves to be bullied by a bunch of… of Barbie dolls!”

Jenny gives a small smile and comments quietly,” I don’t think there’s actually an age limit to bullying.”

“Clearly,” I agree with a sigh. “Next time, we need to talk back. I mean it, Jenny. The club is all well and good, but just hiding doesn’t do us any good.”

“Speaking of hiding,” Jenny says significantly and I look over at her, not missing the change in subject. “Obviously I can’t sit with the bullying Barbies and no way am I sitting with you, Zeke and Koby. So I’ll be hiding in the library for lunch for the foreseeable future.”

“Jenny!” I exclaim. “That’s ridiculous!”

She shrugs and goes to take her seat, mouthing
I don’t care
as she does so. I roll my eyes and decide to work on that battle later.

While Speech drags on for me, I’m sure it speeds by for Jenny. Every time I look over at her, she has a sick look on her face that is tinged with dread. We are given our assignments for our speech to be given mid-semester, a personal opinion topic. Mr. Riordan assigns topics that are more like questions, and mine is,
What makes a victim?

When I read it, I look sharply up at him, but his face is blank. Still, I wonder if I’m given this topic by accident or he’s trying to work on some kind of deeper message or lesson here.

When the bell signifying the end of the school day rings, Koby pokes me in the back and I jerk forward in my chair in surprise and fear. Chantal gives a snort as she sweeps by in the aisle.

“Spazz,” she mutters scornfully, and is gone before I get the chance to say anything back.

Breathing just a little quicker than normal, I turn and look at Koby. “Yes?”

“Sorry,” he says, looking abashed. “I forgot about, well, you know. That stuff. Are you ready to go?”

I look over at Jenny. Even though the whole room is standing and fleeing, freed for the day, she’s still sitting at her desk and pretending to flip through her notes.

“You know what? What room is it? Can I meet you there? I have to stop by my locker really quick,” I say.

Koby shrugs as we both stand up. “Sure. It’s right down the hall, two-twenty.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

I wait until he’s gone, wave goodbye to Zeke, and march over to Jenny. “Come on,” I order. “We’re going.”

“I don’t want to,” she whines.

I gather her books up with mine and snatch her purse so she has no choice but to follow me. I practically have to drag her down the hallway to the classroom, but at least she’s finally up and moving. We enter the room and I tow her toward Koby. He looks up, spots Jenny with me, and his jaw drops. A half-horrified, half-shocked expression comes over his face. When he looks at us, Jenny tenses and tries to bolt. I tighten my hold on her arm and continue forward. I sit down in front of Koby and pull Jenny down into the seat in front of me.

“Hey,” I say to him, for all the world as if this is totally normal. “We made it.”

“I see that,” Koby says, jaw finally closing. A hard look comes over his eyes as he peers past me at Jenny.

She smiles weakly at him and gives a finger wave. Koby grunts in a supposed greeting and our drama is interrupted by a girl sitting to Koby’s left.

She has big glasses partially obscured by shaggily cut brown hair and is leaning far over the desk, so far I’m afraid she’ll tip and fall over.

“O-m-g, o-m-g,” she babbles, actually saying just the letters over and over. “You’re Evangeline Parker, aren’t you?
The
Evangeline Parker?”

“Um,” I say, trading looks first with Koby, then with Jenny. “I go by Evie but yes?”

“Holy
shit
!” she squeals. Another girl sitting in the desk in front of her spins around and stares at me with the same wide-eyed look.

“Is it true?” the first girl demands. “Were you there when Zeke beat Tony Stull into a coma? Zeke sits next to me in art and he scares the daylights out of me. Don’t get me wrong, but you don’t really look like a rape victim, either. I feel like you couldn’t live through Zeke Quain raping you, he’s freaking huge! And I also heard you had this tattoo that was totally-”

“
Paula
,” Koby growls, his voice low and dangerous. It’s the first time I’ve actually heard Koby sound upset in the slightest. “Shut up and don’t talk about things you don’t understand. Mind your own business.”

Paula glares at him for a moment but then she spins away from us. She and the other girl begin whispering furiously. I’m not sure if it’s an improvement, but I’ll take what I can get.

“Thanks,” I mutter to Koby, a little surprised they actually listened to him.

“No problem,” he says, eyes on the papers before him. I think he’s actually a little embarrassed and it’s endearing. I reflect once again how much I like him and how if I’d ever had a big brother, I’d have wanted him modeled after Koby Phillips.

I’m shocked when Mr. Riordan, of all people walks, into the room. He winks at Jenny and me and calls the meeting to order. I quickly see that the reason Paula listened to Koby is because he is the president of the dance committee this year.

Jenny and I exchange more than a few glances during the meeting, because these kids take things seriously.
Really
seriously. Some of them actually want to take a vote on whether they should allow Jenny and me to join at such late notice, even though the dance is a month away. Mr. Riordan and Koby overrule this quickly, much to Jenny’s disappointment. A good thing, too, since aside from Jenny, Koby and me, there are only six other kids. Ten people don’t seem like enough to put on a dance for a whole school.

Especially since, as the meeting unfolds, we find out that this is the first year homecoming won’t be held in our school gym. In an attempt to drive up prices and therefore put on a more memorable prom, we are holding homecoming at a hotel. Someone has a distant relative somewhere and has gotten a substantial discount on the venue. Therefore, we’re charging more for the homecoming tickets to save up money for prom.

The meeting is pretty boring, though Koby whispers that it gets more enjoyable—and hectic—as the dance date gets closer. We go over some finances and then distribute jobs. I volunteer Jenny and myself to do some research on finding photo backdrops to fit the dance’s theme:
Romeo and Juliet
. And then it’s over.

We all spill from the classroom and I pretend not to notice the way everyone, especially Paula and her friend, Alison, keeps a careful distance from me.
You should be used to it by now,
I tell myself firmly.
And it’s not a big deal. They’re just rumors, they’re not true, and in eight months, you’ll never have to see these people ever again.

Maybe studying abroad is a good idea. For all four years of college. I would literally never have to see any of these people again. I can get a clean, fresh start where no one knows me. But it would be without Zeke and I know deep down I can never do that.

“Jenny?” Koby asks when we finally make it out of the classroom and into the hall. His voice is quiet but with an edge that I’ve never heard before. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Jenny gives me one panicked, pleading look just as I say loudly, “I’ll meet you by the car.”

I give her a meaningful look of my own and leave them at the door of the classroom, heading to my locker and then outside to my car. The parking lot is virtually empty, a strange sight. At least we won’t have to fight the usual after-school traffic in order to get out. Fifteen minutes later, Jenny exits the school, head down and books clutched against her chest.

I wait until we’re inside the car before asking, “Well? What did he want to say? Did you guys make up?”

She snorts. “No. Far from it. He wanted to know what I was doing, that’s pretty much it. It wasn’t our finest moment and I’m beginning to think we won’t have any of those ever again. Let’s just go, if there’s one thing I need right now it’s to sit down in a massage chair and have someone rub my feet. Let’s go get pedicures.”

I want to press the issue, hear a word for word account of what happened, but I let it go. “Spoiled brat,” I snort as we pull away from the school, trying to lighten the mood.

“And not embarrassed to admit it,” Jenny says tartly.

“What color are you thinking?” she asks me a half hour later.

We’re both ensconced like queens in high-rise pedicure chairs, looking at little circular discs with color and design choices on them. Jenny has already selected a lavender shade, while I’m still flicking through available choices.

I look at the bright orange polish that is being stripped off my toes as we speak and then regard the colors in my hands. The palette in my left hand has bright neon colors and at first I was thinking I would do the electric purple so Jenny and I will coordinate. And because it’s another outward sign to Zeke that I’m trying to break free, trying to obey everything he’s taught me.

But I realize that I don’t really want to do a bright color. The whole point of that lesson was to teach me to do what
I
wanted, not someone else. Is wearing bright colors because I think it will please Zeke with my progress any different than wearing dark ones because that’s what Tony liked? I’m not sure, but I think it’s part of the point Zeke was trying to make.