Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) (34 page)

Tegan’s
story about her the holiday weekend helped to perk me up a bit, and she
insisted that I come over to her house after school so we could pig out on junk
food, watch funny movies, and just veg out for a while. It sounded like heaven
to me.

The
first two blocks of the day seemed to drag on forever. I tried my best to pay
attention, but the teachers just couldn’t hold my interest. They could have
discussed pop culture for all I knew, and still I wouldn’t have cared.

All
I could think about was crawling back into bed or, more accurately, lounging
around on Tegan’s couch. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so
thoroughly drained. The holiday had been a nice reprieve from the stress, but
it wasn’t long enough to erase the confusion and stress that had me feeling
like I was on an emotional roller coaster.

I
could remember being a very sensitive child. When I was happy or excited about
something, I wanted everyone to know. As happy as I often was, I cried just as
easily. Anything could trigger it—a sad movie or story or a song.

Even
when I was angry, instead of yelling or throwing things, I’d start crying.
Apparently that hadn’t changed. I had no idea why, and I often felt ridiculous
afterward. After all, who cried because they got in a fight with their brother
or sister?

It
had been even more embarrassing when the bouts of tears happened at school. I’d
been called a crybaby more times than I could even begin to count. I’d learned
to curb the emotional outbursts pretty quickly, but it was just another thing
that set me apart from my peers. Sometimes I still longed for the days when it
was just Mom and I at home. Back then I never wished I were more like everyone
else.

As
much as Skylar aggravated me, I knew my jealousy stemmed from wanting to be
more like her. It didn’t make much sense because, most of the time, I didn’t
really like my sister, but what she lacked in kindness she more than made up
for in looks. It wasn’t even so much that I even wanted to be some great beauty
like Skylar, but, like most girls, I had those moments where I wished I were
better looking or could change certain parts of my body. I didn’t necessarily
think of myself as ugly; I was just average looking.

There
wasn’t anything particularly special about me.  Often times I couldn’t see what
everyone thought was so great about Skylar either, but sometimes I’d find myself
thinking, “If only I had half of her charm.” Because she could be charming when
she felt so inclined. She could also be funny, and even though I wasn’t a fan
of her dark drawings, she was talented in her own way.

To
other people she just had something that I seemed to lack, and as much as I
hated myself for it, I wished I had a little bit of whatever it was as well. I
didn’t want or need to be the center of attention. I just wanted to be noticed
every once in a while. I just wanted someone—namely a guy—to look at me and
think I was pretty great.

My
melancholy was further intensified when I spotted Skylar in the hallway,
flashing that damn perfect smile of hers at some guy between first and second
block.

Thankfully,
Mrs. Willis wasn’t a sadist and didn’t call on me during Spanish because I
wasn’t paying the least bit of attention. If she had asked me how I was doing,
I wouldn’t have known how to translate “I feel like shit” into Spanish.

As
much as it had been instilled in me over the years—mostly by Dad—that life
wasn’t fair, I couldn’t help but feel slighted. Skylar could have her pick of
any guy she wanted, so why did she have to continually come around and butt in
whenever Jackson was around? He seemed far too normal for her taste. He wasn’t
pierced and didn’t have any obvious abnormalities. Sure, he smoked, but by
Skylar’s standards, he was rather boring.

Besides,
her claim was that he was using me to get to her, but that didn’t mean she had
to be so receptive. If she were a decent sister, she’d back off. Of course,
that meant she’d have to acknowledge my feelings for Jackson. Or, rather, I’d
have to admit that my feelings for Jackson went beyond simple friendship.

As
much it appealed to me, I couldn’t fully blame Skylar. It was easy to say,
“This is all Skylar’s fault, and she just needs to go away,” but the truth was
Jackson wasn’t helping the situation any because as soon as my sister pranced
into the room, she was his point of interest.

Tegan
had tried to make the point before that Jackson couldn’t very well ignore her
because that was just rude. I almost wished he were rude to her. After all, she
didn’t need any more attention to fuel her ego. It was already taking up far
too much space. If she kept it up, I had a feeling I was going to die of suffocation
before the school year was out. After all, how was a girl supposed to breathe
when her sister was sucking up all the air?

I
couldn’t even console myself in saying that Jackson was just
my
friend
because, in all honesty, he and Skylar knew each other first. It felt like a
stretch to say they were really friends, though. I’d never seen him around
other than that one time he came to the house with Scott, so they couldn’t be
very good friends, could they?

It
had also occurred to me that maybe Jackson was going through me to get closer
to Skylar because he didn’t want to be obvious about moving in on her so soon
after she and Scott split up because he’d known, and I thought was friendly
with, both of them. Befriending me gave him a good pretense to come over to the
house.

I
felt like I just kept going around in circles. I didn’t know what to think or
believe anymore. I almost wished I’d never met Jackson. It felt ridiculous to
be so torn up over a guy I’d only met a couple of months earlier and had only been
friends with one of those months.

We
weren’t even close friends. There was still so much I didn’t know about him,
and he hadn’t, technically, done anything wrong either, so it wasn’t as if I
really had the right to be jealous or angry. Still, technicalities did little
to make my resentment go away.

As
much as I wanted to claim it was just the friendship I cared about, I couldn’t,
in good conscience, say it was true. I really liked him. Sure, I was still
getting to know Jackson, but everything I knew about him thus far, with the
exception of smoking, I liked. It wasn’t that I just thought he was cute or
cool either.

I’d
never liked a guy the way I liked Jackson—not even when I had a hardcore crush
on Justin Timberlake in the fifth grade. This was a whole new territory, and I
really felt like I was in over my head. I was beginning to realize why these
things were called “crushes” because it hurt like hell to realize those
feelings probably weren’t mutual.

The
sound of the bell dragged me away from my depressing musings. Despite Tegan’s
urgings, I didn’t even bother to try to hurry to the cafeteria. Avoiding Mark
just didn’t seem to matter. He could have my lunch money; I wasn’t hungry. I
wondered if Skylar was aware how much crushed hopes, which were probably akin
to being heart broken, could help a person trying to lose weight. Not that I
really cared about losing weight, but all of this turmoil had certainly helped
curb my appetite.

There
was no sign of Mark in the hallways, and Tegan and I made it to lunch intact.
Tegan tried to cheer me up as we stood in line, got our food and finally sat
down to eat. Well, Tegan ate; I mostly shoveled my food around my plate. As
much as I appreciated her efforts, they were fruitless.

I
was eternally grateful to Tegan for putting up with my tired, grumpy angst
ridden butt. I knew I was a far cry from pleasant company lately, but Tegan
took in stride, proving her awesomeness as a friend with her patience and
support.

The
first half of lunch was the usual noisy affair. Because of my moodiness, we’d
chosen to sit at a different table, away from Tegan’s other friends. I’d tried
to convince Tegan it was fine if we sat with them, but she was still in “cheer
Silly up” mode, so I’d relented. We’d taken an empty table near the center of
the room. Some other people had sat at the other end after a while, and Tegan
was speaking to one of the girls, but I wasn’t paying much attention.

I
was pondering the loudness of the room. I’d never really noticed how everyone’s
voice seemed to echo off the walls, making it a vacuum of indecipherable sound.
It made my already too full head ache. I understood what people meant when they
said they felt like their head was going to explode.

As
morbid as it was, I wondered what everyone would do if I just suddenly
spontaneously combusted right there in the middle of the cafeteria. I realized
it was pretty sad that such a macabre thought was the first thing to really
amuse me all day. Because she was the one person I felt I could be totally
uncensored and shameless with, I was waiting for Tegan to finish speaking with
the other girl so I could share my perverse musing. But, before I had a chance,
it seemed I slipped into an alternate reality.

Mark
Moses appeared out of nowhere. My first thought was he’d come to take my lunch
money. It seemed odd he would approach me in the cafeteria with so many
witnesses, but he sat down in the seat across from me.

Tegan’s
attention was quickly averted from her conversation, and she and I shared a
nervous glance. Despite his threats, I’d told Tegan about what I’d witnessed
between Mark and his dad and the consequent conversation I had with him
afterward.

Tegan
wasn’t all that surprised. “Tierney said she’d heard rumors about Mark’s dad,”
she explained. “Apparently, the claim is Mark’s dad is meaner than him, but,
kind of like with Mark, there’s never been enough proof to do anything about
it.”

“How
is that even possible?” I wondered.

“Mark
would probably be the best person to ask about his dad,” Tegan shrugged, “and
it’s not like he’s going to trust the police who have gone after him in the
past.”

I
could see her point, but I hadn’t been able to forget the exchange. “Even
though Mark’s an asshole, I can’t imagine what it must be like living with that
guy.”

 “They
say his dad’s a drunk,” Tegan frowned.

I
didn’t doubt that for an instant. Even though I didn’t like Mark, knowing the
kind of man he lived with made it harder for me to hate him like I had before.

The
fear I had for him that had faded, just slightly, resurfaced quickly at the
sight of him at my lunch table. If he wasn’t here for my lunch, had he come to
threaten me into silence once again? It certainly wasn’t necessary. I’d only
told Tegan, but I knew without a doubt she wouldn’t tell anyone either.

I
didn’t know why he was there or what he’d do, and I found little relief in the
presence of teachers throughout the cafeteria. I often thought they were just
as intimidated by Mark Moses as I was.

However,
when Mark spoke, it wasn’t to threaten or demand money. Instead, he actually
smiled without menace—an odd expression on his usually stony face—as he cocked
his head to the right and said, “So, my sister’s kid likes that
Harry Potter
crap you seemed so keen on. I went to her house for Thanksgiving, and I watched
one of the movies. Something about a goblet?”

He
raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for me to clarify. It took me a minute to find
my voice as I stared at him. “You mean
Goblet of Fire
?”

“Yeah,
that,” he nodded. “It was a little too tame for my personal taste, but for a
bunch of British bastards, they made a decent movie.”

I
blinked, shaking my head slightly, trying to wake myself up. In my reality,
Mark Moses would never admit to watching
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
let alone admit it was decent. I knew this had to be some sort of dream,
although I couldn’t for the life of me imagine
why
Mark Moses was making
an appearance in my dreams.

I
pinched my hand under the table and flinched at the pain that shot up my arm.
It seemed impossible that I wasn’t dreaming, so I knew this had to be an
alternate reality. I just wasn’t sure how I got there, and from the look on
Tegan’s face, she’d fallen into this other universe right along with me.

Mark
was looking at me expectantly, and I knew I should say something in reply, but
I couldn’t seem to find words. I was just too baffled, but I also knew I had to
proceed with caution. Finally, I cleared my throat and mumbled, “Well, I’m glad
you enjoyed it.”

It
sounded so lame, but it was the best I could come up with. I just I couldn’t
get my head wrapped around the fact that the resident bully was seated at my
lunch table talking about
Harry Potter
. What was even more bizarre was
he was actually being
nice
.

Even
though everyone in the room—excluding Mark—looked like their usual selves, I
was convinced none of this was real. I didn’t know how or why it happened. All
I really knew was I was thoroughly dumbstruck.

I
wondered if maybe I was just hallucinating. Was it possible the spiked punch
from the Halloween party contained more than alcohol? Of course, that didn’t
make sense. Surely, if that were the case, then I would have experienced this
sort of side effect sooner. Not to mention Tegan didn’t drink the punch, yet
she seemed to be experiencing the same odd situation as me. Unless I imagining
her as well.

“Yeah,
it was probably the best part of the holiday. My sister can’t cook for shit,”
Mark said after a moment.

“My
mom can only cook stuff like Hamburger Helper,” I commented without thinking.

“That
stuff’s better than people give it credit for,” Mark said. “Kraft mac and
cheese is the best, though.”

“Yeah,
it is good,” I agreed. I didn’t know why I was even replying. It was like my
mouth was just moving but I had no control over the words coming out. That
wasn’t so different from usual except I normally felt myself thinking the words
as I said them. This time my mouth was doing all of the work because my brain
certainly wasn’t contributing to the conversation.