Miss Taken (12 page)

“Well, I guess you could say the fight was
about Kyle.”

“Oh.” She had been leaning in. Now she
settled back in her chair and nodded knowingly. “He found out about
Kyle leaving you those presents, huh?”

How did she know?

“I saw him put the one on your locker.”

I am getting a strong impression that my
detecting skills are not up to snuff lately.

“And then he told me what he was planning on
doing for the rest of the week. He’s, like, totally into you
Jane.”

It was entirely Kyle’s fault that my life was
so screwed up. So I refused to care about what Hannah just told me,
but some fickle body parts of mine shifted a little. My ears wanted
to know more and my tongue almost asked. I bit it.

“So was that what he was pissed about?”
Hannah prodded.

“Actually, I don’t think he knows about them,
so please don’t mention anything to him if the subject ever happens
to come up.”

“Really? Hmmm. So, what happened? Will you
tell me already?” Hannah was leaning in again.

Before I even said the first word, I knew it
was a bad idea to blab. But Hannah is a such an expert at guys, I
thought she might be able to help. “Kyle kissed me after school at
my locker. Ned saw us.”

“Ohmigosh!” Hannah said, way too loud. We got
some dirty looks. She giggled and then covered her mouth with her
hand in mock amazement. “Told ya. He’s totally into you.”

I slumped down in my seat. “Yeah, you told
me. But now Ned isn’t speaking to me, so can you tell me something
useful I can do about that?” Since I was asking for help, it
probably would have been better to tone down the sarcasm. But so
far, she had only been adding to my stress.

“Ohmigosh,” she said for the third time.

I was starting to think that while Hannah may
be a dating expert, she was not necessarily any good at
articulating her knowledge.

“Let him be pissed. It is very cool to have
two guys vying for you Jane.” She nodded and smiled in the way I
used to consider evil. Also implicit in her response was the idea
that she never would have thought it possible for someone like me
to have this type of scenario happen to her.

I shook my head. “But I don’t want to have
guys vying for me.” In spite of all my duelling fantasies of the
day before. “I just want Ned back.”

Hannah flipped her perfect hair with
contempt. “Oh, please. Two in the bush is way more exciting than
one in the hand.”

“What?” I felt the blood rush to my face. Had
she seen Ned and me making out in the bushes? My mind started
racing through all the other people who might have seen us with the
lack of leaf cover in winter.

“You know the saying, ‘A bird in the hand?’
Well, I’m telling you, when it comes to men, stringing along two is
way better than one who feels sure of himself.” Hannah nodded again
in her worldly, man-eating way.

“Oh, I thought...” I trailed off. It was
better not to explain that one. “So really, you think I shouldn’t
worry about Ned?”

Hannah snorted to show that she would never
have worried about Ned under any circumstances. “Trust me, you are,
like, ten times more interesting to him now that another boy is
after you.”

“Really? Then why isn’t he returning my phone
calls?”

Hannah’s jaw almost hit the table. I thought
it actually had hit it, but it was just her hands slamming down at
the same time. More dirty looks from the nearby readers who had
come to the library for some peace and quiet.

“You did not call him.”

I nodded hesitantly.

“To apologize?” she said incredulously.

I nodded again.

Hannah slapped her forehead dramatically to
show me what an unbelievably stupid country rube I was.

“Nononono.” Her disgust not at all concealed.
“Rule number one, never apologize, and especially not over the
phone.” She kept shaking her head. “Other most important rule?
Ignore him. Treat him like crap. A few more days and he will be
crawling on the ground, begging to lick the soles of your shoes.
Trust me.”

I don’t know if that image really made me
feel better, but I was ready to move on to another topic. So I
asked her if she wanted to study at all today since I couldn’t stay
long. It was a lie, but I needed to think things over for myself.
As we were leaving, Hannah made me promise her that I would not
call Ned again.

I promised.

But I kept my fingers crossed inside the
sleeve of my coat.

I hid in the ladies’ room until Mom came to
collect me. Fortunately she didn’t force me to go on any errands
with her as she usually does. The second we got home, I dropped my
books on the counter, grabbed a snack and headed right back out the
door. I walked quickly toward the rez, trying not to allow my
fantasies that Ned might be there waiting for me to get too real
inside my head.

I failed.

I imagined he had spent the night there. He
might be suffering from hypothermia.

Jane Nightingale nurses her love back to
health.

It was a good thing I brought enough cookies
for two.

I ran almost the whole way there which warmed
me up uncomfortably. The sweat pooling inside my winter coat damped
down the fantasy. Now I only half-hoped Ned would be there since I
wanted to look the part when we had our makeup reunion and not be a
smelly mess.

I went straight to ‘our spot’ overlooking the
dam but no one was there, not even a cardinal or seedpods or
anything. I stayed and tried to enjoy the view for a few minutes,
but I was starting to get misty-eyed so I decided to keep moving.
And now the drying sweat was making me feel cold again.

Wandering around aimlessly for quite some
time, I got lost in my thoughts that grew more confused the longer
I brooded about them. I even managed to scare myself by making the
realization that I was now in a part of the woods I didn’t
recognize at all. Picking up the pace, I emerged from the trees
just a few minutes later. On the far side of the rez from my house.
I regarded my patent leather mary janes ruefully and sighed at the
long road home.

No one stopped to offer me a lift, not Ned,
not Kyle, not even a creepy axe-murder type, which is just my luck.
I had to eat the whole sleeve of cookies to give myself enough
energy to get back.

Once safely home again, I thought I showed
incredible restraint by waiting a full twenty minutes before
calling Ned’s house. I called three times that night.

No answer x 3.

Three strange but true scientific facts about
chickens: 1. There are more chickens on Earth than humans. 2.
Chickens can move fast if they want to: 9 miles per hour. 3.
Chickens can cross-breed with turkeys. The result is called a
“Turkin.”

Sunday I held myself off until noon before
calling, but there was still no answer. I was feeling a little
baffled by the whole thing and so I decided I was strong enough to
follow Hannah’s advice for the rest of the day. It’s funny how as
the chances increased that someone might pick up the phone, I found
the nerve to not call.

Okay, so maybe I was just being a chicken. Or
a turkin.

At any rate, first period Monday morning
would reveal all. And it did, although Ned kept me in suspense for
an extra few minutes when he walked in after the bell.

I was glad Hannah was not in my math class to
witness the pleading look I gave Ned as he blew by me and swung
himself into his seat, pretending I didn’t even exist. I knew it
was pathetic but I couldn’t stop myself. Ned opened his notebook
and studied the blackboard with an intensity I had never seen him
show before in math class. The only thing that made me stop with
the visual groveling was catching Sofagirl’s eye, two rows down,
taking it all in.

After class, Ned shot out the door like his
pants were on fire.

It was official: he had not developed a
sudden interest in quadratic equations. He was avoiding me.

My heart dropped somewhere into the vicinity
of my lower digestive tract.

Right before flicking his sunglasses into
position, Kyle had the gall to look at me with concern. He started
making his way toward my desk. Before he could offer me a shoulder
to cry on, I hightailed it out of there. I was feeling so sorry for
myself, I might have been weak enough to take him up on it.

I was so distraught about Ned that I
temporarily forgot about my run-in with Mrs. Rochel on Friday. When
I passed the principal on my way to bio, however, my stomach did
relocation of its own and my small intestines felt like they were
practicing advanced knotting techniques. Mr. Hirsch just smiled,
but it seemed an ill omen since he normally walks by me without
acknowledging my existence.

Things were not going my way in biology
either. We had to do some lab work with microscopes and Raj was
still out sick with mono. Of all the selfish, long-term diseases to
get.

So Kyle and I were on our own. I made my
intentions clear by getting very busy with the slide
preparation.

Kyle cooperated and set up the chart in
silence. We whizzed through the slides since we’re both brilliant
at recognizing different cells.

Today, however, it would have been better if
we hadn’t been quite so efficient. We ended up with way too much
free time while the other teams were still working.

Kyle sat across from me, drumming his fingers
on the table and trying to catch my eye. Fat chance. I reviewed my
chart although I knew it was perfect.

He got up and plunked himself down next to
me. Again, unnecessarily close. Wherever he comes from, they must
have different rules about personal space.

I pretended he was just another blob of
protoplasm.

“Hey,” he nudged me, causing me to smudge my
paper. “Oh, sorry.”

The mark on my page wasn’t a big deal, but it
was just so symbolic of everything he had done to me since his
arrival. Supposedly none of it had been intentional, but all of it
had royally screwed things up for me.

It made me so furious, it was all I could do
to not pin him down to a dissecting board and start in with the
scalpel.

Making eye contact was too risky. I shrugged
- hard, like I was trying to remove a particularly annoying monkey
off my back - hoping he would get the hint that if he valued his
life he would go back to his side of the workstation.

If he wanted to move all the way back to
Madagascar or wherever, I would be okay with that too.

“Really,” he insisted. Pretending to get a
slide, he leaned into me even more. He managed to catch my eye.
“I’m really sorry.”

It was awful. He looked so sincere. My stupid
contacts were bothering me. I blinked a lot to make them sit
comfortably again. My eyes always tear up when that happens. Using
one knuckle, I wiped them quickly.

If only Kyle would move farther away so I
didn’t have to smell that intoxicating cologne of his.

“It’s okay,” I muttered, just so he would
drop the subject.

Kyle stayed put.

I took matters into my own hands. Huffing to
make it clear that he was once again imposing on me, I moved to the
far side of the table.

He followed. Hannah does know a thing or two
about boys.

“But, Jane, look at this...” he said loudly
as an excuse, putting our completed chart in front of the two of
us. Softly, he said, “Is there anything I can do? Can I talk to him
and tell him it was all my fault?”

I was getting the sole-licking, yes, but it
was coming from the wrong tongue. I slammed my hands down on the
chart, and whispered, “Dammit Kyle! You’ve done enough already,
don’t you think?”

Mr. Garrone called out, “I hope you’re
discussing science over there, you two.”

Kyle answered with a smile, “Yes, Mr.
Garrone. We’re just having a slight disagreement as to how Golgi
apparatus relate to endoplasmic reticulum.”

Even I, who was in no mood to be in charity
with Kyle, had to admit how impressive that sounded.

He turned back to me with that same annoying
smile. “I want to make it right. Can’t I...”

I was sick of the constant apologies, as if
they fixed anything.

“No, Kyle,” I snapped. “There is nothing you
can do.” I pierced him with an eye dart out of my magical Caribbean
blue eyes that only he had been kind enough to compliment me
on.

Kyle drummed out a sad little tattoo on the
table.

It made me think of something. “Yes,
actually, there is.”

He leaned in eagerly.

“Tell me your name.”

He looked nonplussed.

“Your full name.”

“Oh. It’s Kyle Pendleton McKay.”

“Kyle Pendleton Mackie,” I muttered.

“It’s spelled M-c-K-a-y but pronounced
‘Mackie,’” he added helpfully. “Why do you ask?”

“So I can give my hit man complete
information on how to find you.”

Kyle didn’t even crack a smile.

I huffed. “I just thought I should know the
name of the person who ruined my happiness. I’m funny that
way.”

Kyle looked crushed, which I thought would
make me feel better, but it didn’t.

It did work, however, on getting him to leave
me alone for the rest of the morning. Although at lunch I caught
him throwing a couple of hopeful glances in my direction as he was
sussing out a place to sit. One hostile laser eye dart told him
that this table was closed to him.

Diana bounced up. If you ask me, she, like
Mirabelle, could use a bra with better support.

She said, “Um, I guess you’re having a bad
day?”

I rolled my eyes in response.

So she went and sat with Kyle.

Which left me, in case anyone is keeping
track, sitting alone. I did my best to make it look like I was
enjoying my regal isolation, but someone with a sharp eye might
have noticed a certain dejection in my jaw as I chewed my tofu
imitation roast beef on whole grain bun with lite oleo spread and
no cheese (but extra sprouts).