Fate Book (2 page)

I get that most people would say, “A high school English teacher? Successful? Eh-hem. Sure.” But he did what he loved, and it showed. So, yeah, he was successful. At least in my eyes.

“All right, everyone,” Mr. M addressed the class. “Welcome back from spring break—”

“Hey, y’all! Wassup?”

Jesus, no.

“Ms. Jensen, so nice of you to join us,” said Mr. M.

My heart and central nervous system protested violently at the sight of her. My hands began to sweat and tremble. The air in my lungs felt instantly polluted.

Maybe confronting Janice could wait for another day.

No! You have to do this,
I told myself.
You are officially a grown-up, and grown-ups don’t back down from bullies.

But as she took a seat toward the middle of the room, she flung her silky blond locks over her shoulder and flashed a wicked little smile my way. Whoever said an image is worth a thousand words was so right; that image just told me she wanted to make my life hell today.
Show no fear, show no fear, you are Yoda…

Then a tiny ray of sunlight burst through the dark, wet storm clouds hovering overhead.

Dax
…I sighed as my mind took yummy-boy roll call. Light brown eyes trimmed with thick brown lashes.

Check.

Sandy-blond, shaggy hair, towel dried and left that way.

Check, check.

Heavenly broad shoulders, well-defined everything—arms, chest, legs—encased in low-slung faded jeans, and a snug tee?

Mmmm…Check.

My mind hit a speed bump and popped out of my little drool fest when I realized the only open seat was right behind me, and Dax was headed straight for it.

I straightened my spine and pasted on a smile as he walked by, smelling sweet and delicious and…

Nutty? I didn’t know Snickers made cologne.
It totally worked for him.

While I inhaled deeply—guess I was kinda hungry—Dax took his seat, but no notice of me.

That’s okay, Dakota. It’s going to happen. It’s going to happen
…

“Hey, Dakota,” I heard a voice whisper from behind.

I froze. Had I imagined it?

“Dakota?” he said again.

Yes. Not only had he spoken to me, but he also knew my name.
Yes! Yes! Yes!

I slowly turned my head over my shoulder and tried not to tremble. Or drool. Or say something dorky. “What’s up?”
Nailed it!

His brown eyes were even more magnificent up close.

“Do you have a pen? I forgot mine,” he whispered.

Pen. He wants a pen.

“Sure.” I pulled one from the front pocket of my backpack and handed it over. And then it happened. He smiled at me. Actually smiled. Even his little dimples made an appearance.

Freeze image in brain. Die happy now.
I felt no shame—zero—admitting that I took this as an omen from the universe. Change was indeed comin’ round that mountain. My life was on its way to perfection.

I smiled back and turned toward the front of the class, knowing that I looked like a giant grinning moron, but I didn’t care. Dax Price had smiled at me and knew my name.

Still remaining on my high school bucket list was to face that horrible, evil cheer-cow the next time she messed with me. I didn’t know when it was coming, but it was coming.

~ ~ ~

“Do you like this one?” Mandy looked at the price tag and then held up a satin purple top with ribbons on the back. Her brown eyes twinkled with mischief. Or was that the smugness of victory? I was finally at the mall, letting her pick out clothes for me. A first.

“I’ll try it on.” Normally I didn’t wear purple—sorta looked weird with my red hair—but I was in a super great mood. After homeroom, Janice had taken off, and I didn’t see her the entire day.

“So, how was your dad’s?” I asked, shuffling through the black skirts a few racks away. I didn’t get how Mandy could become so excited about shopping in such a large, well-organized department store. Where was the victory in that? Going to a thrift store or even one of those small, funky boutiques was way more fun, like going on a treasure hunt.

“Okay.” She shrugged. “Like usual, he spent most of his time at work. I read. That was about it.”

“At least you got to see him every night. That’s good, right?”

“I guess,” she replied, with stark disappointment. But in all honesty, Mandy had it way better than I did. I was lucky to see my father once a year, although we did Skype a couple times a month. His photography and modeling agency kept him traveling constantly, hopping from one exotic location to the next and then back again to his main office in the UK, where he was originally from. He had his business before marrying my mother, an ER nurse. Ironically, they met while he was in San Francisco on a shoot after he really got shot. Wrong place at the wrong time, except that he ended up in the hospital and met my mother. I liked to think it was fate.

Not so fate-tastic was that every year since I could remember, he threatened to quit the on-location assignments or sell the company to his right hand man. But every year, he kept going. “We need the money,” he’d say. Or, “We’ll never be able to send you to college and retire.” After the age of twelve, I began to understand that he kept working because he wanted to. It wasn’t that he didn’t love me, but he loved his job more. When I became older, however, I felt sort of thankful he wasn’t around so much. Simply put, I loved him, but there were things about him that seriously pissed me off. Things I didn’t want to think about.

And how my mother got by? Who knows? I guess she was too busy to feel lonely since she spent her days at the hospital. And being a nurse meant she rarely made it home at a reasonable hour, which is why I spent more time than I should’ve with a nanny or at Mandy’s house while growing up.

“So how about
your
spring break?” Mandy asked, trying to brush her dark hair out of her eyes while balancing a giant heap of clothes on her left arm.

“Other than listening to Aunt Rhonda lecture me ten times a day about the value of youth and how I’m spoiling it by buying into the media’s narrow perception of beauty and that she’d give anything to have my ass, rack, and skin? Oh! And being set up with her friends’ snobby sons who wanted nothing to do with me?” I shrugged. “I guess it was fine.”

“Oh, I bet you just loved that,” she said, referring to the fact that my aunt lived in the Hamptons and was obsessed with having a very social lifestyle. I didn’t necessarily look down on her, but I didn’t understand the need to live my life on the front of a tabloid. I wanted to have a career, travel, fall in love, live a quiet, happy life surrounded by people I loved.

“I went jogging on the beach every morning. That was nice,” I finally replied.

She laughed. “Yeah, I bet.”

“Well, next year, no Aunt Rhonda’s. My father promised to take me to Tokyo.”

Did I believe he’d actually take me this time? Maybe not, but it was time to start having faith that change was coming.

Mandy gave me a look as if she knew what I was thinking. “All right, let’s try these on.” She held out a pile of multicolored blouses and skirts.

I cringed.

“You promised,” she warned.

That I had. And I’d been stupid enough—likely still suffering from hormonal-bliss overload due to Dax—not to have given Mandy any boundaries like “thou shall not dress me in anything resembling rainbow barf.”

I took a deep breath. “I’m trusting you not to make me look like a clown.”

“Dakota, seriously? Would I ever do that to you? Besides, have you looked in the mirror lately? You’ve officially blossomed since Christmas. I could dress you in an orange muumuu and you’d look hot.”

Or like a pumpkin gone wrong
. And I wouldn’t call finally getting boobs and growing an inch—making me a whopping five-five—at the age of eighteen “blossoming.” More like catching up. In any case, I appreciated the pep talk.

“Let’s get this over with. And stop kissing my ass!” I said.

She squealed with delight. “I’ve always wanted to dress you. This is going to be so much fun!”

I didn’t know about that, but at least this would make Mandy happy. That was something.

CHAPTER THREE

Tuesday.

The next morning, I arrived at school a little later than usual due to a recent alarm clock mishap (I’d “accidentally” shoved it off the nightstand and killed the contraption a few weeks ago. Poor thing.) But I digress. The real reason I’d overslept was that my mother had come home around midnight so I’d gotten up to eat a bowl of cereal and show her my new clothes. What always amazed me about her was that no matter how long her day was, she always had energy to talk and smile. Loved her. And she always looked amazing: her blond hair pulled back neatly into a bun, her face flawless and fresh—no makeup—and her blue eyes bright and alive, just like mine. Minus the bright and alive part.

“The secret, my dear, is being happy. Happiness keeps you young,” she always said.

That’s why when I saw Janice’s face light up with evil intent as I walked into homeroom that morning, and found the last seat was situated right between her and Dax, well, I didn’t let it get to me. Janice would be the ugliest troll on the planet by the time b-day number twenty hit; there was clearly no happiness in her life. Too bad for her because I was…

Happy, happy, happy.
And ready to stand up for myself.

“Hey, Dakota. Nice skirt,” she said nice and loud for everyone to hear. “Salvation Army’s finest?” She snickered along with a few other Janice fans in the room.

Actually, it was Neiman’s finest, but I wasn’t about to let her belittle my love of thrift.
Right Macklemore?

I looked at her and stared with defiance.

Her big blue eyes were caked with way too much mascara—how the heck did she manage to blink?—and she had her blond hair pulled into a high ponytail. I wanted to rip it out.

Wow, this glaring back feels good!
I was just warming up.

“You know it,” I finally replied. “In fact, it was hanging right next to that skanky nightmare of a skirt your grandmother donated. She said she never wore it because you bought it for her; she’s not into slutty, apparently. But who am I to judge? Especially when the look works so well for you.”

Okay. My comeback was wordy. Maybe a little lame, too. But it was the best I could do on the fly, given that being mean wasn’t in my box of tricks.

Janice’s face turned a pissy shade of red. She hadn’t been expecting me to fight back since I never had. Not once in almost four years.

Her eye twitched. “You’re pathe—”

“Janice,” Dax cut her off, “don’t you have a hangnail to file or tiny animal to torture?”

“I…I…” Janice opted for shooting hateful thoughts in his general direction. I’m guessing that was because her shock was as big as mine. Dax had defended me. Me!

I flashed a “thank you smile” his way. He gave me a quick nod and turned his attention toward his book.

As for me? I gloated. Not because Dax had given Janice’s ego a big “fuck you,” but because I’d been left to fend for myself all these years with no one but Mandy—who was rarely around for the attacks—on my side. Having someone get my back felt…frigging wonderful. Add Dax to that equation and frigging wonderful turned into frigging awesome.

My victory buzz was short-lived, however, because Mr. M gave us our assignment: a writing exercise. “You will write about three things you did this spring break and then read it to the class.”

A communal groan erupted.

“This should be easy for you, Dakota,” Janice said. “Since you just hung out with a bunch of dirty dogs. Was it fun picking up shit? How do you get it out from under your nails—oh! Wait. That’s what that smell is…”

I heard a few small “ewws” from the drama junkies listening in.

That’s when it happened. I snapped.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Everyone gets mad, especially when they’ve been picked on as relentlessly as I had, but this was different compared to all those other times Janice had belittled the things I loved. This time she was trying to steal more than my pride; she was trying to steal my hope. I’d really had it.

Rage filled my mind along with images of ripping out her hair. Yes, I would jump on her head and pluck out her golden feathers!
Let’s see how she likes it!

But that’s not what happened.

What I chose to do instead would be far worse. The biggest mistake of my life. I lied. Yes. Lied. A big, hairy, Whopper with cheese of a lie. It was one of those moments that as the words poured from my mouth, I caught myself thinking,
Why the hell am I saying this? Not even I would believe such a festering pile of crap!
But once I started, I could not stop.

Why? Why? Why?

My lie would become my life, my prison, my punishment for everything I’d ever done wrong.

CHAPTER FOUR

“You?” Janice laughed. “You have a boyfriend? And you spent spring break with him, going to parties in the Hamptons?” she laughed so hard that tears popped from her eyes like fleas jumping off a dog in a bathtub. “Oh! Oh! That’s frigging hysterical.”

“Ms. Jensen, care to share what’s so funny?” Mr. M peered over the top of his glasses, giving her an annoyed look.

“Yes!” She chuckled. “Dakota says that—wait.” She looked at me. “Why don’t you tell everyone what you did during break?”

I slouched in my chair and tried to ignore Dax rolling his eyes as if I were the lamest creature on the planet. The rest of the class simply stared with the sort of interest one might have when passing by a car accident.

“Ms. Jensen,” Mr. M said, “I’ll see you in detention.” He made a little circular motion with his hand, indicating she should turn herself around and get to work.

“What?” Janice barked. “Bu…bu…but I have practice after school.”

Mr. M shrugged. “Correction. You
had
practice. Would you like to miss tomorrow as well?”