Triggered (2 page)

I understand that now—although the sad thing is he
does
need me. Mick's got two parents, three grandparents, a brother and a sister, but the fact is, he doesn't really have a family. Not the way Mom and Gavin and I do.

We don't have the big house or the big family reunions or the big trips down south every year, but we do talk to each other. We care about each other. At the Staynors' you're lucky if you hear “Dinner's on” or “Don't leave your hockey gear in the hall.” That's their idea of a heartfelt conversation. No wonder Mick always wants to hang out in our crappy little apartment instead of at his place.

When I realized that, I was all ready to call him and say how sorry I was for hurting his feelings, but then Gavin threw up and I didn't have the chance. Now I've changed my mind. I
am
sorry—but I realize that even mentioning Mick's feelings would be wounding him again. He's a guy. He doesn't want to look like a wuss.

So I'm just going to let this go. I'll give him a little space. I'll act like we
both
need to chill out. I want him to be able to come back to me when he's ready—and with his dignity intact. Too bad it wasn't intact tonight.

Oops. I didn't mean that. Neither of us behaved as well as we could have, and I know he feels badly for what he did to Gavin. Emotions were running high—and hey, we
all
have our bad days now and again.

Speaking of which, tomorrow's going to be hell. Bio, Chemistry AND Math. Plus I'm cleaning Mrs. Crespo's apartment after school. I've GOT to go to sleep!

Note to Self

1. Iron pink shirt.

2. Talk to Mr. Panjvani about a reference letter.

3. Finish yearbook write-up.

Mick

Chapter Three

Quinn slams into the locker and slides onto the floor. He's supposedly laughing so hard, he can't stand up. I want to kill him.

I poke my head out from behind the pop machine and look down the hall. He goes “Peekaboo!” then chokes on his own hilariousness. He starts wheezing and hacking like he's some eighty-year-old bingo player.

I make sure Jade's gone, then I swear at him and walk over to my locker. I know she saw me.

I shove him out of the way with my foot so I can get my stuff. “You sat on some gum,” I say. He jumps up all indignant, like someone put it there on purpose. I'd laugh, but I'm still too pissed off.

A couple of kids walk by and do it for me. Quinn twists his head over his shoulder and starts picking the gum off his butt.

“You know,” he says, “when you told me you broke up with Jade, I thought, All right. The man's finally grown a pair. But no such luck. I mean, what is it now—three weeks later? Four? And you're still playing hide-and-seek?”

I get out my World History books. He can talk all he wants. He doesn't know what it's like.

He stretches the gum out into a long gray scuzzy string. It's gone from someone's mouth to the hall floor to Quinn's ass. It grosses me out just looking at it.

He snaps it off. “Either go back to her or get over it,” he says, “because, frankly, this is pathetic.”

“Yeah,” I say. “It is.” I look at him rolling the gum in his hands as if that's what we're talking about, then head down the hall without him.

I don't hear a thing Ms. Hamilton says all class. I've got to smarten up. I need a good mark in World History, but my mind's not there today. I keep thinking about Jade. I know breaking up with her was the right thing to do. It's not that. We were too far gone to fix. But that doesn't mean I don't still care about her.

I hate running into her. She looks like hell. She's so skinny and sad.

The worst thing, though, is she makes me think of Gavin. I keep picturing his face the last time I saw him. He was sobbing like I'd drowned his dog or something.

But what can I do? I can't go back with Jade to make her little brother happy. I can't go back with her so she won't lose any more weight. I've just got to tough it out. We'll get over it.

The bell rings. Poli-sci is next. The fastest way there is by the east stairs, but that's the way Jade goes to French. I can handle being in English with her. I mean, it's not like I have any choice. But I've got to avoid her the rest of the time. Quinn can laugh all he wants. I know myself. I'll cave if I'm not careful.

I take the west stairs. I skip the last two steps, turn the corner and almost run right into Jade.

We both jump back as if we hit an invisible force field. Jade squeals. I drop my binder. Papers go flying. She kneels down to get them at the exact same time I do, and we bonk heads.

We both say, “Sorry,” then kind of laugh. People are stampeding to class. We're crammed between the wall and a recycling bin. It's really awkward. We're trying to pick everything up before it gets trampled. Our hands keep meeting, but our eyes don't. If you didn't know we'd just broken up, you'd think we'd just started going out.

Shaun Eckler walks by. He says hey to us, then turns and whispers to Carson Ng.

Jade notices too. She flicks her head their way and rolls her eyes. We both know what they're thinking.

We get up. She hugs her book against her chest and says, “Gee, what are you doing way over here?” She makes it sound like a joke.

I try to come up with some excuse, but I've got nothing. I shake my head like, “Who knows?”

She laughs and says, “Personally, I was trying to avoid you. Lot of good it did me.”

Now I laugh. It's a relief to get it out in the open. We stand there, shuffling our feet and sort of smiling at each other.

“Well. Nice running into you,” I say.

“Run into. Ha. Ha.” She looks good with a little life in her face again. “You and your old-man puns.”

The hall's full of people. It's probably not the best time to say this, but I do anyway. “Think we could be friends again someday?”

She clicks her tongue. “Of course! Friends would be great.”

She reaches out and touches my hand with her finger. She doesn't look at me. “You know…I've had some time to think about this, and it might sound weird, but I'm glad we broke up. Honestly, I don't have time for a relationship now, especially with GooGoo being so sick and everything.”

“Gavin's sick?”

“Oh, you know…” She wobbles her head back and forth. “Long story. I'll tell you later.”

The bell rings.

“How sick?” I say, but Jade's already backing away from me down the hall.

“Got to go. Sampson deducts points if you're late.” She waves her fingers at me, but then stops and kind of pouts. “Look at you. Don't worry, silly! They're probably just migraines,” she says. “It's highly unlikely it's a tumor.”

Jade's Diary

Chapter Four

March 22

It's been ages since I wrote, and there's so much to say. The big news is I ran into Mick today. (Wearing the blue hoodie I gave him for Xmas! That's no accident.)

He was coming down the west stairs and practically plowed right into me. (Clearly, great minds think alike.) You should have seen his face! He went pale, then he went pink, then he just kind of gazed at me in this really deep way. I might have had my doubts before, but not anymore. Looks don't lie. Mick still loves me.

Too bad everything's so weird now. There's nowhere for us to go and work this out. It's all so, I don't know, unnatural or something. We can't have a “normal conversation” in English Lit. The entire class is watching our every move. (I really wish we'd been lower profile before. Nobody talks about how Amy Norman and Jordan Mancini's relationship is going.)

Getting together after school doesn't work either. I'm too busy. We'd have to arrange an actual date—and I can tell Mick's not ready to put himself on the line like that yet. (Life would be so much easier without the male ego always getting in the way.)

Then, of course, there's the whole bizarre Quinn Poulos thing. Seriously, he hovers over Mick like he's his grandmother or something. It's almost funny. You'd swear I was some wicked woman plotting to steal the poor boy's virtue. How can we relax with Quinn practically wiretapping everything we say?

I knew bumping into Mick was going to be our only chance to talk.

It was a bit awkward at first, but that's to be expected. You're used to doing things one way for three years, and then suddenly you have to do them a different way? Of course it's going to be uncomfortable. But I made a little joke, and that's all it took. We both started laughing like the good old days.

I love his laugh.

He dropped his stuff, and we both went to pick it up at the same time. Our hands kept touching. It was almost as if we couldn't help ourselves. I know this sounds corny, but it really was kind of magical. There's a powerful connection between us. We both felt it. Who knows what would have happened if Shaun and Carson didn't come by right then? I wouldn't be surprised if Quinn had them spying on us.

Anyway, it kind of ruined the moment, and we were back to being awkward again. He kept rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. That's what he does when he's nervous, and I've always found it so cute. It makes me want to look after him.

I told him Gavin's headaches were back. I could see how worried he was. I knew that would happen. They were like brothers. He'd do anything for him.

I went to the library after school and searched childhood migraines. The doctor told us before that we had to watch what he ate, but I couldn't believe all the foods that can set them off. Chocolate, hot dogs, cheese, yeast, pepperoni—the list went on and on. I printed it out and taped it to the kitchen cupboard when I got home. I'll have to try and figure out which ones make Gavin sick.

When I was at the library, I also went online to look for a dress to wear to the spring dance. I've lost seven pounds, so I want something that's going to show off my waist. I think I found one—long sleeves but low in the back and with a tight skirt. It's kind of a greeny-blue too, so you just KNOW Mick's going to love it. (Brings out the color of my eyes. He always says that.)

If I could do some extra cleaning for Mrs. Crespo, I might be able to afford it next week.

I should turn out the light. Mom's doing back-to-back shifts all week, so I'm going to be busy.

Note to Self

1. Make appointment for highlights.

2. Write treasury report for Enviroclub meeting.

3. Buy groceries. (Take migraine list.)

Mick

Chapter Five

Everybody's grabbing their stuff and booting it out of class. Friday afternoon. It's always like that. I was slow copying down the notes, so I'm the last one to leave. Ms. Hamilton spots me going out the door and waves me over.

The new girl is standing beside her, so I've got a pretty good idea what this is about. The history test.
Please don't
tell me I did as badly as some kid who
barely speaks English
.

“Relax, Mick. I'm not going to bite you.” Ms. Hamilton doesn't look up.

She's writing something in her agenda.

“The school board frowns on that sort of thing.”

She slaps down her pen and pushes the book aside. “I have a little favor to ask. You know Dalma?”

I say yes, but I don't really, not unless knowing her name counts. She only started here a few days ago.

“Excellent! I just got a text from my son's babysitter. He's been in some sort of…altercation.” She pretends to growl. I'm not sure if she's mad at the kid or the babysitter, or if she's even really mad at all.

“I've got to run. Would you mind taking Dalma to the language lab for me? She's supposed to meet her tutor there at three forty-five.”

“Sure. No problem.” Maybe I didn't do as bad on the test as I thought.

Ms. Hamilton is already shoving her stuff into her briefcase. I'm not sure Dalma is following what's going on. She looks like she's still a little worried about the teacher biting me. Ms. Hamilton nods at her and smiles. “That okay with you?”

Before Dalma can answer, Ms. Hamilton has switched off the lights and hustled us out the door. “Thanks, Mick,” she says. “You're a peach!”

She's halfway down the hall when she turns around. “Oh, sorry. Better tell her what that means, Mick.”

Then she's gone. I can hear her high heels clacking down the hall. She really picks up speed when she gets out of sight. Something about that seems funny to me. I sort of chuckle. Dalma does too, although I don't know if we're laughing at the same thing.

“This way,” I say and point toward the east stairs. It feels really formal, like I'm showing her to her seat in a fancy restaurant. She nods. We start walking.

We're quiet for a while, and then Dalma says, “Peach?” It takes me a second to understand what she's talking about. She brings her hand in front of her mouth as if she's holding a ball and pretends to take a bite.

“Oh, right,” I say. “Yeah. That's it. Peach.”

“
You
are peach?” She laughs. A big loud “ha!” It surprises me. I laugh at her laugh, then try to cover it up by sounding like I'm laughing at her joke. I say, “No, that's not what it means exactly.”

She wipes her hand across her forehead like she's going, “Phew!” Her eyes are so brown, they're practically black. The hall lights leave little white squares in them.

“So what it mean exactly?”

I rub the back of my neck and try to explain. “It means I'm, like, a good guy.”

“You are?”

“Well, that's what it means. I don't know if I am or not.”

She pretends to be shocked.

“You don't know you are a good guy? You are maybe bad guy?”

My face is hot. “No, no. I'm good.”

“Therefore I am safe with you?”