Trouble from the Start (9 page)

I knew she meant to be encouraging, but I felt like the girl destined to be the bridesmaid and never the bride.

She tapped her chemistry book. “Now I have to study a little more before Jeremy comes over for some smooch time.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow.” I got off the bed and headed for the door. I'd almost reached it when she called out to me. I stopped and looked back.

“Fletcher's an idiot for not kissing you,” she said.

I wanted to believe her, but I had a feeling that I was the idiot for wishing he would.

I almost did it again. I almost kissed Avery last night when we were sitting on the hood of her car. And I wasn't sure why. She wasn't beautiful. She wasn't really even pretty. But she did have a fascinating face—the way it lit up when she talked about something she was passionate about. And she was passionate about so many things.

As I strolled down the hallway the next morning, I found it difficult to believe that all we'd done last night was talk. I wasn't used to talking to girls for an extended length of time without working in a kiss or two. Maybe that was the reason I almost kissed her: habit.

I reached my locker and banged my fist on it. That was an insult to her. Habit had nothing to do with it. I knew that. I liked talking with her. I liked the way she smelled. Strawberries. I thought maybe it was her shampoo. What
was I doing noticing her shampoo?

Even worse: Sometimes I dreamed about her. I didn't worry about the dreams when I was asleep because I can't control my subconscious. But I dreamed about her when I was awake, especially when I was in class and my mind would start to wander. I seemed to have no control over that and it bothered me big-time. I was wrong for her in every way imaginable. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. And I was no genius.

I spun the combination, freed the lock, and opened my locker. I stared at the algebra book angled there. I had to pass this stupid class. I needed this worthless credit to graduate. I'd never gone to a tutoring session because the idea of needing a tutor made me feel stupid. But the guy Avery had been tutoring hadn't looked as though he'd felt stupid as she leaned in and explained the material. As he'd been working the problem, he'd begun to look triumphant. Leaving the textbook where it was, I slammed the locker closed. Was there any point in even taking the exam?

“Hey, Fletcher.”

Recognizing Morgan Anderson's sexy voice, I erased the frustration from my face and turned around. “Hey, Morgan.”

She stepped forward, and I leaned back against my locker. Flattening her palms against my chest, she moved in a little closer. I placed my hands on her waist. We'd
spent a little bit of time together, usually when she was in between boyfriends. I liked her. She was fun. I never had to wonder what it might be like to kiss her, because she was pretty free with her kisses.

“What are you doing Saturday night to celebrate graduating?” she asked.

I was trying not to think about graduation, what it would mean for everyone else, what it would mean for me. “Haven't decided.”

“Scooter is having another party at the lake house—course his parents will be hanging around this time but there are lots of dark places.” She bit her lower lip. “If you're there, maybe we can get together, since Biff is being a dumbass.”

I took a few strands of her mahogany hair, tucked them behind her ear, and grinned. “So, you're not with him now, then?”

“Nope.”

“Then I think you can pretty much count on me being there.”

“Great.” She slid her hands around my neck, rose up on her toes, and gave me a quick kiss. “I can't wait.”

“Me either.”

She lowered herself to the ground, her eyes—an unnatural green because of her contacts—sparkling with mischief. “Want to hear something really funny?”

“Sure.” I could use something to lighten my mood before my math exam. Although knowing I'd be seeing her Saturday night helped.

“There's a rumor going around that you hooked up with Beanpole at Scooter's party.”

Everything within me went still and tense at the same time. “Beanpole?”

“Yeah, you know. Avery Watkins. Tall, skinny chick. Really smart. I've been telling people it's not true.”

Which was what I wanted, I wanted people to know the rumors weren't true. Avery wanted people to know, but Morgan was insulting her in the process. I didn't appreciate it. “She's not a beanpole,” I said.

“She's almost as tall as you are. And she's skinny.”

“She's slender.”

Morgan narrowed her eyes. “Did you hook up with her?”

It was strange, but I thought it would actually do Avery's reputation some good if I could answer yes. If I said no, Morgan was going to think I didn't find Avery attractive. My thoughts hit a brick wall. Did I find Avery attractive? If I didn't, I wouldn't keep thinking about kissing her. “I gave her a ride home.”

“Oh.” Her hands slid away. “She doesn't really strike me as your type.”

I almost explained that nothing happened, but I was
afraid Morgan would twist it around and find a way to use it to hurt Avery. I realized Avery would never do something like that, would never deliberately hurt someone. I had a feeling Morgan might, although I didn't know for sure because we never really talked. “I like Avery,” I admitted.

“Isn't she a little too smart for you?”

Okay, that hurt, although I had no one to blame except myself for my grades. They weren't stellar and until that moment I hadn't really cared. As long as they were good enough to get me the hell out of high school I was happy. But I was more bothered because Morgan seemed determined to put Avery down. “Yeah, she is, but you know what? Smart is pretty sexy.” I dropped my hands from her waist. “I'm probably not going to Scooter's Saturday after all.”

“Your loss.”

Somehow I doubted that. Morgan turned on her heel and marched down the hallway as I tried to figure out why I'd ever liked her in the first place. The bell rang, signaling that we had ten minutes to get to class. I opened my locker, grabbed my algebra book, and wondered why I thought I'd just made things worse for Avery.

“I hate this hair,” Kendall said as she released the clip holding her curly red hair in place. She gathered it all up and reclipped it. “Wish I had yours.”

We had a few minutes before our first class. Staring in the bathroom mirror as I brushed my long straight strands, I couldn't help but think how funny it was. No matter what conditioner or shampoo I used, my hair never had any body. I'd give anything to have hers. “Trust me, I can't do anything with it except let it hang or pull it back.”

“Maybe we should do something radical,” she said. “Get it all cut off.”

“Maybe,” I responded slowly, my attention caught by Morgan Anderson's reflection in the mirror. She was staring at me like she was auditioning for the role of a ghoul in a horror movie. I turned to face her. “You got a problem?”

“You.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out, the way you were glaring at me.”

Kendall stepped up beside me. For all of her five feet four inches, she could be intimidating when she wanted to be. “You have a problem with her, you have a problem with me,” she said. I was a little surprised she didn't then shout, “Bring it on!” Although I truly appreciated her loyalty.

Morgan looked at her. “I don't care about you.” Then she shifted her attention back to me. “I know about you and Fletcher. And that really doesn't work for me.”

I sighed. She was obviously one of his groupies, although I thought she had a boyfriend. Not really my business. “Look, nothing happened.”

“He took you home. And he told me he likes you.”

I heard Kendall's jaw pop as it dropped. As for me, I was having a difficult time processing words all of a sudden. The ones she'd just spoken seemed to echo between the tiled walls, between my ears. “What do you mean he likes me?”

“That's what he said.” She looked me over like I was a new species. “I don't get it.”

“I'm sure you misunderstood.”

“I'm sure I didn't.” She took a step nearer, seemed surprised that I didn't step back. “I want to go to a party with him Saturday night, so tell him that you don't like him.”

She stomped out. Blinking, I stared at the door closing slowly behind her.

“He likes you,” Kendall said at the same time that I thought,
He likes me?

“Is this good or bad?” Kendall asked.

“It's ridiculous.” I grabbed my backpack.

“Maybe not. I wish we didn't have to get to class,” Kendall said. “We'll discuss it at lunch. See if Jeremy has heard anything.”

I walked out into the hallway. “There's nothing to discuss. She's wrong.”

“You only think that because he hasn't kissed you. Maybe he doesn't kiss girls he likes.”

I glared at her.

“Okay, he probably does kiss girls he likes. We'll talk at lunch.”

She hurried down the hallway to her chemistry class. I headed to the front office. During this period I served as an office aide. The tardy bell rang as I walked through the door.

“Morning, Avery,” Mrs. Muldrow, the office secretary, said, as she filled out an absentee slip for someone.

“Hi.” I went behind the counter where two other student aides were already working and shoved my backpack into a little cubby. I was used to the routine. A few kids were lining up for tardy slips. I filled out the form, including the
student's name and excuse, then passed it down to Mrs. Muldrow, for her signature.

The tardies were light this morning. When the waiting area was clear, Mrs. Muldrow released a deep sigh, which was also part of the routine. Then she smiled at us. “Hard to believe another year is over. Cookies are in the copy room.”

She was famous for her oatmeal cookies. We all grabbed one and then took seats waiting for our assignments.

“This is our last time to meet like this,” Kevin said, as though it was a revelation. He shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Most kids called him Gamer because he hung out in comic book stores and played role-playing games all the time. He'd read every Game of Thrones book.

“I'll miss you guys next year,” Sarah-Jane said slowly, like air seeping from a balloon.

She was a junior, and I really liked her, even though she dragged her sentences out into forever. “There's so much to do senior year, you won't even notice we're gone,” I assured her.

“I'll notice.” She peered over at me, wrinkled her brow. “I heard about you and Fletcher.”

I rolled my eyes, shook my head. “He just gave me a ride home.”

“I heard . . . he liked you. And he is so hot. You're so lucky.”

What did I say to that?

“Sarah-Jane!” Mrs. Muldrow called out.

Sarah-Jane popped up. Mrs. Muldrow assigned her to help one of the counselors.

“You go together,” Kevin said quietly.

I looked at him. “What?”

“You and Fletcher go together.”

“In what universe?”

He grinned. “In this one.”

I blushed, because he often talked to me about his role-playing games. When things were slow in the office he would ask my opinion on various backgrounds he was creating for his characters. “I wasn't making fun of you.”

“I know. You're too nice to do that, but you should play the games with me sometime. You'd be good at them.”

Mrs. Muldrow called him up and gave him a note to deliver to a teacher. As he was leaving, a woman walked in holding a small paper sack. She spoke with Mrs. Muldrow, who tapped a few keys on her computer before calling me over.

“Need you to deliver this to Andrea Jackson. She's in Mr. Turner's class.”

“She's on a special diet,” the woman said, and I realized she was probably Andrea's mother. I didn't really need to know the details of what was inside.

“I'll get it to her,” I promised.

I left the office and crossed the courtyard, heading to the math and science building. I thought about trying to peer into Mr. Tant's chemistry class to see how Kendall was doing on the exam, but I didn't want to distract her. It was the only exam she had to take and she'd missed getting an A in the class by two points. So I walked on by without stopping.

When I got to Mr. Turner's class, I rapped quietly on the door. Through the window, I saw him get up and approach. I also saw Fletcher, front row, far side of the room. Mr. Turner opened the door. Fletcher glanced up briefly, revealing that storm-cloud expression I'd seen before. That sure wasn't the look you gave someone that you liked. I knew the I-like-her look. I'd seen Jeremy give it to Kendall enough times. It was a slow grin, a crinkling at the corner of his eyes. It was joyous, happy, glad.

“Yes?” Mr. Turner prodded, bringing me back to my reason for being here.

“Andrea's lunch. Her mom just brought it.”

Now there were two storm clouds looking at me. “Did she not know she would need lunch before she left home this morning?”

“I'm just the messenger. I think there's a law that prevents you from taking your frustrations out on me.”

He sighed. “Just because you aced my class, Miss Watkins, does not mean that you can talk disrespectfully to me.”

“I meant no disrespect.” I really hadn't, but it wasn't my fault I had a lunch to deliver.

He took the sack, holding it daintily with his thumb and forefinger as though he thought it might contain Ebola or something equally deadly. “Thank you, Miss Watkins. I'll see she gets it when she turns in her exam.”

He closed the door. I peered through the window. Fletcher was scribbling again.

I headed back to the office. The time went really slowly. Kevin and I rotated running errands. The entire time, my mind wandered back to Fletcher, then further back to Morgan.

Ten minutes before the bell would ring to dismiss class, I approached the counter. Mrs. Muldrow smiled. “Another cookie?”

“Oh, no thanks. I was wondering if it would be okay if I went ahead and left so I could get an early start on lunch.”

“I think you've earned an early dismissal.”

After grabbing my backpack, I walked through the door, across the courtyard, and into the math and science building. I knew where Fletcher was. I needed to talk to him.