I'm So Sure (31 page)

“You know what your problem is, Bella? Number one, you’re jealous and insecure—”

“Of her?” I toss my hair and laugh. “Maybe I just don’t like the way she’s thrown herself at you from the second she stepped into the classroom. I’m not insecure, but I’m also not stupid.”

Luke’s mouth twitches. “I meant insecure of your writing abilities. But now that you mention it, you probably are jealous of my talking to her. That would fit.”

“Fit what?” A band of clowns ride unicycles in the ring, but I don’t even bother to watch.

“It would fit with the Bella Kirkwood pattern.” He lifts a dark brow. “You are completely distrusting of the entire male species. I guess one couldn’t blame you, given your dad’s history
and
your experience with your ex, but I have no desire to get back with an old girlfriend.”

“This is outrageous. I do
not
have trust issues with guys! And you know what else?”

“I’m dying to hear more.”

“I think you’re enjoying all the attention from Ashley.” All Luke and I have done is fight lately. While digging into other people’s business might be my spiritual gift, I’m beginning to think arguing comes second.

“Ever since we’ve been together, you’ve balked at my every comment in journalism. You can’t stand to be criticized—even when it’s for your own good. And”—his blue eyes flash—“you’re just waiting for me to cheat on you like Hunter. You think I don’t see that?”

Hunter would be my ex-boyfriend from Manhattan. This past fall I caught him doing the tongue tango with my former best friend Mia. And then not too long ago I considered getting back with him. He swept me up with this new version of Hunter Penbrook, told me he had started going to church, said all the right things, bought me coffee. It’s a little hard to resist a cute guy bearing a mocha latte with extra whip, you know? Luckily, at prom two weeks ago, I saw the light and let that rotten fish off my hook.

“I’m not worried about you cheating on me, Luke. I’m tired of you bossing me around and acting all ‘I’m in charge.’”

“I
am
in charge. I’m the editor.”

“Not of our relationship.”

“I’m back!” Ashley chooses that very moment to flounce back to her seat. “I got you a cotton candy.” She hands the pink confection to Luke. “Bella, I figured you’re like most girls and need to watch your weight, so I didn’t get you anything. What’d I miss?”

Luke holds me down with his arm. “Don’t even think about it,” he whispers.

The crowd
oohs
and
ahhhs
as the Amazing Alfredo begins juggling two long silver swords. I applaud politely when he pulls a third one out of his hat and tosses it into the air with the rest. I’d hate to think where that sword was
really
hiding.

Like a distant relative, the Fritz Family Carnival comes to Truman, Oklahoma, every April and sets up camp on land that, I’m told, goes way back in the Fritz genealogy. They stay at least a month—working on additional routines, training new employees, giving the local elementary teachers a nice afternoon field trip—and don’t leave until they can ride out bigger and better than the year before. And while that might be odd, it’s nothing compared to the fact that I’m sitting on the bleachers between my boyfriend and a girl who has been openly flirting with him. That chick needs to learn some boundaries.

“Bella, Luke said you might need some help with your article.”

He holds up a hand. “I just thought it would be interesting to get our three perspectives. Bella will still handle the interviews.” excerpt from “It’s been so great to work with you again, Luke.” Ashley’s smile could charm the shirt off Robert Pattinson. “Just like old times, huh?” Her eyes gaze into his. Like I’m not even there. “Kyle’s really enjoyed hanging out. Too bad he had a study session tonight.”

Luke leans close, his mouth poised near my ear. “Just because we’re dating doesn’t mean I’m going to slack off on your writing.

You’re still a staff member. And you
know
I do not boss you around any other time. I have been nothing but respectful to you.” He returns his attention to the ring. “Did you write down the fat lady’s stats?”

“Of course I did.” I scribble something illegible on my paper.

No, I didn’t get her stats. I’m too busy fighting.

“She’s seven hundred and twenty-nine pounds, in case you missed it,” Ashley chirps.

“Thanks.”
Lord, help me be kind to this girl.

“You always act like I can’t handle the writing assignments,” I whisper for Luke’s ears only. “I think I have more than proven I can.

Not only can I write, but I can crank out some award-winning writing
while
crime solving.”

After I moved to Truman, I accidentally became the Nancy Drew of Oklahoma. Now that I’m known for my mystery solving skills, friends and strangers want me to help them out. Just last week I tracked down a stolen iPhone and did a little spying for a suspicious girlfriend who thought her boyfriend Buster was cheating. It’s true he hadn’t been going to football practice like he said; I found him at Margie Peacock’s School of Ballet, lined up on the bar doing pirouettes and high kicks. I hear he makes a heck of a swan in Margie’s recital.

“I’m not doubting your writing skills.” Luke claps as the magian cian leaves, and Betty the Bearded Lady bows before starting her performance.

I’m transfixed by the hair on her face, and it suddenly makes me feel a whole lot less self-conscious about the fact that I didn’t shave my legs last night. The audience claps in time to the spirited music as the woman’s collie jumps through her hula hoop, then dances to the beat on its hind legs.

I shoot a pointed look at his old flame. “Let’s talk about this later.”

Ashley reaches around me and puts her hand on Luke’s knee.

“I forgot—I have my latest assignment on my laptop in the car. You told me to spice up my verbs, and I revised it. I wanted you to look at it.” She returns to clapping for the Bearded Lady.

“Yes, Luke. She wants you to check out her spicy
verbs.
”

“At least she takes constructive criticism well.” His voice is just low enough for me to hear.

“That girl wants you back. Period.”

“I’m not Hunter. And I’m not your dad.”

“I have to go interview Betty the Bearded Lady.” And I stomp down the bleachers to find her trailer outside. When I glance back, Ashley has scooted down. And taken my place.

The only thing scarier than living
on the edge stepping off it

The new contemporary woman's novel
from Jenny B. Jones

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