The Girl of Sand & Fog (5 page)

I turn to stare out the front window so that he
doesn’t have a clear view of my face. Bobby’s sensitive heaviness burns like a glaring
spotlight on my own self-absorption. Even in this ugly pit, he thinks of
others, namely his mother and, strangely, me.

I am more myopic in my anger, more intense, and
less reasonable. It’s something I’m going to have to give thought to later. The
difference between us in that and what it makes us. Right now, what it makes me
doesn’t seem at all fair to Bobby and, hell, I’ve only just met the guy.

“Text me later?” I say. “Maybe we can Skype while
I do homework.”

“I was planning on de-friending you once I got
home.”

“Bullshit. You are not going to do that.” I
laugh, leaning across the center console so he can see me from outside the car.
“I’m incredibly hot. Remember?”

He slams the car door without answering me. I
watch for a while as he settles on his bike and turns the ignition, and then
follow the puff from his exhaust as he leaves the parking lot.

It is after eleven when I pull into my driveway
at home and if there is a God in Heaven Chrissie will be in bed. I wasn’t kind
to my mom today, but that doesn’t mean that I want to suffer the shitstorm I
deserve because of it.

The house is quiet when I enter and I make a fast
beeline to my bedroom without bothering to check on Chrissie.

I’m still lying in bed awake shortly after 2
a.m., trying really hard to focus on an Econ paper due in the morning, when I
hear a beep on my cell phone. I pick it up, read the text then shut off my
phone. It was a nice touch that Bobby didn’t text me the moment he got home,
but that he’d waited three hours. It would make it seem like I waited up for
him if I answer now.

Good try.

Won’t do it.

I turn off my light and go to
sleep.

CHAPTER 5

I
wake up early the next morning, shower, dress, and quickly get out of the house
before Chrissie can catch me.

As I climb into my Lexus, I feel a little crappy
about not sticking around. But not bad enough to stay and face my mother
directly.

Nope, not up for the lecture I’m definitely going
to get since yesterday I blew the fucking lid off my mother’s carefully guarded
secret. First with Bobby and Zoe. Then with Linda Rowan. It’s not going to go
good for me when my mom finally catches me.

I stop at a fast food drive-thru window, order
breakfast, and then park in the school lot to eat it. I grab my burrito from
the bag. School is nearly deserted but, hell, I’m an hour early. I chomp on my
meal and watch the students arrive.

An hour later every parking space is filled. I’m
just finishing my coffee when I notice it’s 8:15. Oh fuck. I got here early and
somehow I’ve missed the first bell and am going to be late for zero period.
That’s all I need. Only two months into the school year and I’m already
teetering on being put on probation for my tardiness and bad attitude.

Jeez. That will look great on my college
applications. And I definitely don’t want a lecture from my advocacy teacher
again, though why it should matter being late to show up for
that
circle-jerk
is anyone’s guess.

It’s just a bunch of bullshit about planning your
academic future, as if nailing that one will make everything perfect for the
rest of your life. And really, do they actually expect us to make good, life-altering
decisions in a full classroom in thirty minutes a day with the help of some
overeducated, underpaid, middle-aged woman who thinks education is the solution
to every problem in the world?

My dad is Alan Manzone. Try fixing that one by
getting a college degree, Mrs. Advocacy Teacher. It’s not the idea of going to
college I have a problem with. It’s the simplicity of thought that seems
inescapable here.

I toss my cup into the bag and scrunch it up.

I do another fast scan of the lot.

His motorcycle isn’t here.

Where’s Bobby?

The walkways are empty as I hurry toward my first
classroom of the day. I slip in the back door and sink down in the last row of
desks.

The teacher pauses mid-sentence and stares at me.
I smile at Mrs. Trent. A pink slip is dropped onto the desk in front of me.

Great. My twentieth late slip of the quarter.
Couldn’t she be cool just once? I can already tell this day is going to be
another fucking winner.

By lunch period, I’m debating cutting my
afternoon classes. I’m anxious and pissed off. I haven’t seen Bobby all day and
he hasn’t searched me out.

Strange. Very strange.

After I ignored his text last night, I expected
Bobby to be hot on my trail first thing this morning. It’s how it always works
when you ignore a guy. They come after you. But maybe I judged Bobby wrong.
Maybe he’s not into me.

I remember the taste of his mouth and how his
kiss moved with my own, never altering the pressure or the flow. Somehow just
matching my lips. I’ve never been kissed that way before. It was hot. A
freaking turn-on. The way he matched me without ever taking the lead. 

I certainly liked his body pressed up against me.
Feeling what I haven’t seen completely yet. How his muscles tightened—he must
have one fucking great physique under those clothes because he is nothing but a
tight collection of cut parts. Long and strong without being like the Hulk—and
long and strong in his jeans if I’m visualizing right what I felt as he
hardened against my panties.

Oh, he’s into me.

He’s just playing it cool.

Jerk.

I step out into the quad—the patio area with
benches, tables and trees in the center of the four school buildings where most
of the students gather for lunch—and I stare.

What the fuck am I doing here?

I never stay on campus at lunch. I usually cut
out and eat alone.

I scan the crowd. All the popular kids are here.
The ones that like school because they have no life outside it.

Be honest with yourself, Kaley, I chide myself.
You don’t really have a life outside school either. You just avoid being here to
avoid
them.
You’re as pathetic as they are. Get over yourself.

I walk toward the table where Zoe Kennedy is
sitting alone, chomping on raw carrots, with a paper lunch bag lying in front
of her.

Christ, does she bring a lunch from home?

She couldn’t advertise being a loser any more
clearly.

Maybe she’s just dieting. A couple of pounds off
would do a world of difference. She is a pretty girl. Just a touch overweight.

She smiles enthusiastically when she notices me.

I smile back and drop down on the bench across
the table from her, setting my chocolate shake and French fries—the only things
I stomach from our lame snack window—in front of me.

I crinkle my nose. “Is that all you’re eating?”

She nods. “Carrots. Vitamin water and a lettuce
wrap. My mom thinks I’m fat.”

I squirt the contents of a ketchup packet onto a
napkin. “That’s way harsh. Does she actually say that?”

Zoe nods.

What a bitch. “Who cares what your mom thinks?
And she definitely shouldn’t say it. I think you look good as you are. What do
you think?”

She smiles. “I think I’d like to be tall and thin
like you. But I’m short and bouncy and I don’t think the carrots are going to
make much of a difference with that. But heck, it makes my mom happy. Like
she’s doing something. So I take the lunch and eat it every day.”

I laugh. “I’d rather be short. It’s hell finding
guys to date when you are as tall as I am.”

She gives me a knowing sort of look. “Bobby’s
tall. Six-two.”

Well, that was subtle. “Really? I hadn’t
noticed.”

Zoe laughs.

I dab my fries in the ketchup. “Where is he
today? I haven’t seen him on campus all day.”

Zoe pulls her lettuce wrap from her bag and
starts to unwrap it. “Surfing. There was a surf advisory. A high tide warning.
Didn’t you notice? There isn’t a surfer in the senior class here today. High
tide warnings are senior surfing ditch days. Tell them it’s too dangerous, that
the beaches are closed, and every one of them races for a board. Guys are so
stupid at times.”

Surfer, huh? “So Bobby likes to surf.”

Zoe nods enthusiastically. “He’s amazing. He
competes all over the world. Wins everything. He also does motocross, mixed
martial arts, rock climbing, snowboarding, runs and lifts weights every
freaking morning. That’s why he’s got such an incredible body. He works out
every day.” She crinkles his nose. “He’s into extreme everything.”

My eyes widen.

Yep, Zoe has got a crush on Bobby.

Fuck. It’s definitely a violation of the girl
rules if I decide to make a play for him. She’s so sweet. I wouldn’t want to do
such a shitty thing to her. Damn, and Bobby was the first interesting guy I’ve
met since starting school here.

I reach for my shake. “It seems like you know
everything about him. Why haven’t you made a move on him?”

She blushes dark red.

“Me? I am
so
not Bobby’s type. Besides, it
would almost be like dating my brother. We’ve been friends that long.”

I slowly study the girls surrounding us. “So
which girl here is his type?”

Zoe perks up.

I cringe.

Crap, can I be any more obvious?

She meets my gaze evenly. “I don’t think any of
them are his type. What he’s got going on in the girl department, you won’t
find here. Like I said, Bobby is into extreme.” She gnaws on her lower lip. Her
eyes start to sparkle as she looks at me. “You. You are Bobby’s type. Yep, I
can see you two together.”

I choke on my drink.

I don’t know which part of this conversation is
worse: the girlieness of pumping another female for facts about a guy, Zoe
thinking for some reason I’m extreme, or that I just got a pity
prop
from
a girl lower down in the female pecking order than I am because I was stupid
enough to betray an interest in a guy.

Fuck. Good one, Kaley.

The bell rings.

I rise from the bench and toss the remains of my
lunch in the trash. Zoe immediately falls in beside me.

“Do you want to hang out after school?” she asks.

I shrug. “Sure.”

By the time I get to my car after my last class,
Zoe is already there, waiting. I frown. It’s almost like she raced to the
parking lot to get here first so I wouldn’t ditch her.

Poor girl.

As if.

I like her.

Can’t she tell?

I hit the button on my key to unlock the car.
“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere. Just not home.”

She says that in an intense way that makes me
laugh. My thoughts exactly. Even an afternoon with Zoe is better than home with
Chrissie right now.

I toss my tote into the backseat and climb into
the car. I put the key into the ignition and wait as Zoe closes her door.

“You’re going to have to help me here. I’m new to
the area. I don’t know what there is to do. I haven’t really hung around with
anyone at school. What do people do here to have fun?”

Zoe brightens. “Really? You mean like I’m your
first friend here?”

I nod. It’s the truth. Pathetic, but the truth.

She smiles. “We could go to Redondo Beach.”

I pull out of the parking lot. “What’s there?”

Her expression takes on an impish look. “Bobby.
It’s where he’s surfing today. He texted me this morning to see if I wanted to
go with, but I couldn’t. I had a test in my English class.”

Really? He invited Zoe and not me? I’m not at all
happy with that factoid.

“So who did he go with?” I ask, then inwardly
flinch.

Fuck. Obvious again.

Zoe doesn’t seem to notice.

“Just his usual crew. Lots of hot college guys.
Most of Bobby’s surfing buddies are college guys.”

So Zoe doesn’t only know everything about Bobby,
she knows his friends, too. Damn. Maybe Bobby is interested in her and she’s
just too dense to pick up on it. A guy doesn’t introduce you to his friends and
let you hang around with them unless he wants to make you his girlfriend.

Crap, I so don’t want to be the odd girl out on
this little adventure. Maybe I should cut out now. Stupid. Who cares if Bobby
is interested in Zoe? They are welcome to each other. I wasn’t really
interested in him anyway. I might as well go. Beach. College guys. It could be
worse.

Yep, still going.

We stop at Zoe’s house to change our clothes. The
bikini I borrow from her really doesn’t work well. I’ve got bigger tits than
Zoe—they’re practically popping out—and slimmer hips. I need to roll the
bottoms to keep them up. As for the sweats, she had to grab those from her
dad’s closet. Hers on me were so baggy and short in the legs they looked
ridiculous.

I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. I look
a little slutty, but I definitely have nothing to be ashamed about over my
body. I scrunch up my nose. I’m not an
in your face
with my boobs
kind of girl.

Is this too obvious?

Pathetic or hot?

I groan. Why am I debating this? I’m not a
chase-a-guy kind of girl either. Guys chase me. If Bobby isn’t interest, well
then, that’s his problem.

I leave my sweat top unzipped and step into the
bedroom. Zoe is lying on her bed, staring at her laptop, dressed and waiting
for me.

She looks up and laughs. “I love your videos.”

Oh fuck.

I tense.

“What are you talking about?”

Her eyes brighten. “You’re
Kaley’s World
on YouTube, aren’t you? You are the one who makes the talk show videos with the
messed-up Barbies dancing on the strings. It’s so fucking funny. Don’t pretend
it’s not you. They’re epic.”

Busted.

No point lying about it now.

But how the hell did Zoe Kennedy of all people
figure it out?

I drop down on the bed beside her. I shrug. “It’s
just lame and something to do.”

Her eyes widen. “It’s not lame. Have you looked
at how many views you get on every video? It’s like, thousands. The most I’ve
ever gotten on anything I’ve posted is forty-three views.”

I scrunch up my nose. “Would you mind not telling
anyone I’m the one doing those videos? The point of posting them under an alias
and never showing my face is so that no one knows. How did you figure it out?”