by Rachel Kiss
I gulp, trying to calm my heart down. Yet, weirdly, at the same time get my hormones in check. Hello, I’m confused. Very, very. I mean, my stomach is fluttering. Fluttering!!! Wildly.
I try yelling at myself, Wake up, Jazz! The guy is scary.
He is. I know he is. Only, WHY does he have to be so freaking hot? And nice?
I want to run away, but I’m too weak to run. And too stunned. I can’t even move. Or speak.
Shaking, I take a step away from him.
Jonah wets his lips as he eyes the space I put between us, looking discouraged. Then flicks his gaze back up to me, staring into my eyes as though he’s trying to tell me something, but whatever it is, I’m not getting it, unless it’s: “I want to make your heart explode.”
Finally, his gaze relents a little and he lets out a breath. Actually seems to breathe. He runs a hand over his face, like he’s going to try normal conversation again—give it another shot, though he’s not used to having to do it. He murmurs in his husky low voice, “The lady at the hospital—she told me you probably wouldn’t be coming back for another week. She said you’re ‘recuperating.’” He raises his eyebrows hopeful-like, “Feeling better?”
Feeling better?? I feel chilled. I feel as if a person were to touch me I’d crumble into a thousand pieces. But gazing at him, I can’t get any words to come out. Not one.
Jonah wets his dewy pink lips again. “You look better. You look … beautiful.”
My heart slams against my chest. For two totally different reasons. Totally different.
His gorgeous blue eyes stare into mine. “I like your hair like that. It looks so soft.”
He reaches towards me, like he’s going to touch my hair, gentle, gentle, gentle. Like a caress.
I jump away from him as though his hands are on fire. Flippin’ fireworks are shooting through my body. I’m not used to this. No one but Luke gets my insides so … ignited.
As I jump from him, I yelp, “Jonah, we don’t know each other.”
He pulls his hands back. With the tiniest groan, he thumps his head lightly against the wall, then keeps his forehead pressed against it. “Actually, I know you,” he says. “I’ve known you since the fourth grade.” He looks up at me. “And I’ve loved you since then.”
What????
He gives me a sad little peek. The way he does it, so full of longing, hurls me into violent shivers. Suddenly, in a flash, I remember him holding me after the car accident, before the ambulance came. I kept floating in and out of consciousness. He held me so tight, crying. Begging me not to die.
He kept saying that over and over—that he loved me.
I stand staring at him, unable to breathe. “Jonah … no. That night—it was just a really emotional thing for you. But you can’t—okay? You can’t be like this. You can’t go into my room, and you can’t leave me gifts—but mostly you can’t go into my room.”
“No. I know.” He curls his hands in his hair. “I know that Jazz—that I’m not supposed to go in your room. I know. I just couldn’t leave that stuff on your doorstep.”
“Or anywhere!” I tell him.
“Right. No. I know it probably seemed inappropriate—”
My voice goes shrill, “No. It didn’t seem inappropriate. It was inappropriate.”
“Right. But I had the stuff. And it was pretty. And I thought it would look pretty on you. But I didn’t want your parents to see it, so—”
“Wait—what?! You ‘had’ lingerie?”
He nods, but with a tiny smile. “Yeah. Look, there’s stuff you don’t know about me, okay? It is not that I collect lingerie, though. But I had it. And I swear I don’t mean to freak you out—I swear—but it made me think of you—”
“Okay, well, this is freaking me out.”
Jonah’s smile broadens. “I know. I can tell. I’m sorry.”
But he doesn’t look sorry. He looks like he is going to crack up laughing at my red as a tomato face … but he’s apologetic about it. Sort of.
The bell rings.
“Thank goodness,” I mumble.
His eyelids slide shut at my gruff words. But his wince is amused. Mostly. Like he’s playfully hurt. “Okay … see ya, Locker-Mate,” he says, and then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd of student traffic, and I’m left shivering and sick/totally revved up, watching him go.
For a moment I simply stand where I’m at, frozen, unable to bring myself to move. The brilliant thought running through my brain (and I quote): ‘What the …?!’
I mean, seriously—What????
My heart is beating all chaotically violent and fluttery. Is it possible I like Jonah? No. I can’t. It’s not possible. He’s … creepy. Right? It’s just I haven’t had a boyfriend in a while. I’m going through boy-withdrawal. Also—obviously—there is my injuries, right? Obviously, they’ve screwed with my brain. I mean, I’ve been really sick, so I probably have a major fever. I’ve heard fevers can do crazy things to people’s minds, fry their brains. Maybe I’m having a delusional episode. One where it doesn’t matter if a guy creeps into your room and gives you pretty underwear. A delusion where that kind of stuff doesn’t matter because he has pretty eyes and a to-die-for smile.
But no. Yuck. I need Ally. She would shake common sense back into my rattled fever-filled, delusional brain. And tell me I’m just lonely without her. That I can’t start crushing on a guy that once paid a so-called ‘friend’ of mine to see me ‘act normal.’ Which, by the way, Jonah did once. (That was in middle school though—before girls really started to notice his sky-blue eyes. And dimples. And lazy, but oh-so-charming grin. Well, okay, they noticed that stuff. Big time. But it took a while for them to get over the fact he lived in a home for wayward boys—and had since he was in the fourth grade. Plus, everyone knew about his dad. So, he had been picked on. A lot. And it took girls a while to let down their snooty pride and admit they liked Jonah.)
But now, well, now he can have practically any girl he wants. Well, sort of. The thing is Jonah is ‘different.’ And he’s not exactly interested in the girls he can have. Actually, he sort of has this thing going with this weird girl, Lily. She lives at a home kind of like the one Jonah lives at—but one for girls. Girls that don’t have parents that can take care of them. Jonah and Lily are always together. I thought they were a ‘couple.’
Only, well … apparently not. Since, you know, now he’s back to saying he ‘loves’ me. (I’ll probably catch you up on my middle school fiasco with him later. But not right now. It’s a long story and right now I feel weak and just want to go lay down. Only I can’t get my legs to work.)
Suddenly two hands grab me around the waist, and I’m hurled in the air. My heart stops beating. I mean it. It’s like I die from the shock. But it’s only my huge friend Eric and this is nothing new. He’s always picking me up and swinging me around. It’s like I’m his favorite rag doll.
“Eric! Jeez, put me down. You gave me a heart attack.”
Looking pleased by my fright, Eric places me back on the ground. His blue eyes sober quickly though when he sees how messed up I am. “Sorry Jazz. Really. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I was just glad to see you back.”
Trying to force my lips into a smile, I murmur that it’s okay, that I’m glad to see him too. He’s my friend. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. But I can’t stop shaking. I feel as though I’m going to break apart, crumble into gravel.
Luke’s at his locker, watching us from his group of friends. His eyes look uneasy. He heads towards Eric and me, dodging students as he comes.
“Hey, Eric, take off,” Luke murmurs huskily, but his worried eyes stay glued on me even as he commands the request. Luke’s long-lashed eyes search mine, looking concerned. “Jazz? What is it? What’s the matter?”
I bite my lip. How can I tell him about Jonah? That now he’s my ‘locker-mate’? The two guys have fought about me since elementary school. Luke used to say Jonah had ‘too much interest’ in me. The thing was, Luke
never had enough. I mean, he had enough to pound any guy he thought might in some way hurt me. But he didn’t want to kiss me. Yet … Jonah did. Even back in elementary school. I keep forgetting about that stuff. Because things changed in high school. Well, I thought they had. I thought Jonah found his weird soul-mate in Lily. I’d even sometimes been sort of, slightly, secretly jealous. Though I told everyone I was relieved. And really, I was. For the most part. Extremely relieved. Still, it’s hard to lose a handsome stalker—one that wants to kiss you. I mean, when the guy you stalk only wants you as a video game partner—or a band-member substitute.
Luke skims the length of my arms with his warm hands. “Jazz?”
I’m shaking. Really bad. It’s so weird. I can’t make myself stop. It’s not about Jonah though. It’s just I feel dizzy. And weak. And, okay, maybe part of it is Jonah. I mean, we can’t share a locker. He can’t be part of my life. I can’t let him force himself in. He’s messed up. He’s trouble.
Luke tilts his head slightly, searching my eyes. Then kind of awkward like, he puts his arms around me, rubbing my shoulders as though he thinks I’m cold, as though he’s trying to warm me. It’s so nice. Comforting.
“Are you okay?” His rough hands brush my hair gentle, gentle, gentle. “Should I go get the nurse?”
I shake my head. I don’t want him to leave. I just want him to hold me like he’s doing.
I’m sort of just melting in his arms. Into a gooey puddle of goo. His awesome warmth makes me way less tremble-y. Or rather, tremble in a completely different way. An awesome way. I mean, he’s never done this before, held me. (We’re not that kind of friends.) I can feel these electrical sparks dancing through me.
And getting to smell Luke, up close, and have his protective arms around me—I’m basically in heaven. I can hear angels singing and everything.
But then Luke’s sort-of girlfriend, Gia (well, actually, she’s his real girlfriend—but they’re always in a fight)—anyway, she shows up and ruins all the good feelings swimming through me. (Because she’s evil.)
Gia’s eyes narrow into slits when she sees Luke’s arms around me. Of course she’s seething mad. Gia hates me. Ever since my best friend Ally left, Gia thinks I’m trying to take Luke away from her. In a tiny way, she’s right. I need Luke to be my best friend again—she won’t let him be that. She freaks out whenever we’re together.
So … I hate her. (Though to be fair, I would anyway. She just has that kind of sparkling personality—the kind that likes to rip people’s hearts to shreds with her glare—and tongue.) (Though I guess she’s also pretty talented with her tongue—I mean, she’s managed to snag Luke’s attention longer than any other girl has … except me. I’ve had Luke’s attention since we were in pre-school. But then again, I’m totally ‘Friend Zoned’ with Luke. So, bleck. And wah.)
Luke flicks an innocent look to seething Gia and tries to explain, “Jazz is hurt … or something.”
“I think I’m still sick,” I mumble. “I’m going to go back home.”
Luke’s arms tighten around me. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll walk you.”
“No, that’s okay.” Shiver. Shake. “I’m okay.” I try to pull away from him.
“I’ll just walk you,” he says firmly.
“No. Don’t. I want to be alone.”
That’s not really what I want. It’s not what I want at all. I want him to keep holding me. Forever. But there’s a big crowd gathering. Everyone’s staring. If Luke walks me home, Gia will make a big scene. I’m not up for that.
Neither is Luke. He’ll end up breaking up with her—then be left to deal with all that drama. Just the thought makes me need to lie down.
Luke looks deep into my eyes, melting my heart. “Jazz, are you sure? You seem really sick. I don’t think you should be alone.”
“I’ll be okay,” I tell him.
I practically run to get away from him.
His words “I’ll call you later,” follow me down the hall. But it hurts to know that he’s already holding hands with Gorgeous Gia, assuring her yet again that he and I are only friends.
CHAPTER 2
On my way home, I feel as though I’m being followed. I’m too scared to turn around, but I know it must be Jonah. Yikes!! He’s following me! It makes me walk faster. I want to run, but I can’t. My legs are too weak. Every part of my body aches. I feel as though I’m going to collapse.
Halfway home, I start seeing red and purple spots zooming before my eyes. I’ve fainted before, and this is exactly what it was like. There’s no doubt, I’m going down. I just want to make it home before I do.
“Jazz!” someone calls.
Whoever it is sounds close. Too close.
I take off running.
My heart’s pounding up a storm in my chest. It feels as though it’s going to explode. I make it all the way to my front yard before everything starts spinning. But I don’t make it to my front door before everything turns black.
CHAPTER 3
I wake in my bed, sopping with sweat, a scream strangled in my throat. My twisted nightmare was about Jonah coming after me. But the weird thing is—in my dream I was beyond attracted to Jonah. We heavily made-out. Big time. (By the way, in my dream he was an AMAZING kisser—which, I have to tell you, he probably is. His lips—mmmm, they’re to-die-for. Just like the rest of him…. Too bad he’s a psycho stalker that should probably be locked away.)
I’m about to hobble out of bed and hit the shower (I have to do it quick, as my step-sister, Renee, is a bathroom hog) but before I can manage to get up, I realize something: It’s not morning. My first clue: It’s kind of dark out. Second clue: I smell something; not a breakfast something, but dinner … spaghetti. Definitely. Mmmmm. Still, it takes a while for this information to fully sink in to my sleep-muddled brain. Finally though, I work up enough energy to peek over at my clock—5:30 p.m.
I roll over. I’m starving, but I don’t feel like getting up. I don’t even think I can. I feel as though I’ve been hit by a truck. The thought could almost make me laugh, almost. But it doesn’t. Instead, it makes me shudder. Cuz I was hit by a truck. (Well, a car.)
Jonah’s, the stalker/semi-psycho boy I’d just dreamed about kissing. Passionately.
By the time my mom comes to get me for dinner, I’m done cringing over my lust-dream. It’s just, the dream had been spooky/erotic. Not your normal dream. Well, not my normal dream. But just like everything about Jonah—it gave me twisted, conflicting feelings.
Downstairs, the kitchen looks sort of funny—too bright or something. That’s what happens when I get too much sleep. It makes everything seem like a dream. Like it’s not quite real. (Like I might kiss Jonah.)
Mom eyes me, looking concerned. “You alright?”
I yawn and nod, but I have to plop into the nearest chair ‘cuz I feel like I might fall.
My stepsister, Renee, is on the phone. Nothing new. She’s always on the phone. But right now she’s acting goofy on it. She keeps giggling and she’s getting all wrapped up in the cord. (Yes, our phone has a cord.)
“It’s a boy,” Mom says.
I nod, understanding. Renee turns into a freak around boys.
“They were assigned to do a science project together,” Mom explains as though I asked, but I didn’t. I don’t care.
Renee gets off the phone and sits across from me at the table. “We weren’t assigned to be partners,” she corrects. “He chose me!” She twirls a strand of her golden hair around her finger, beaming. “We got to choose our own partners—out of everyone in the class, he chose me.”
I get myself some spaghetti. I don’t know why a boy would choose to be partners with Renee. I can’t imagine anyone purposely doing it. Still, she gushes about the boy all through dinner. She goes on and on, talking about him—how nice he is, how gorgeous he is, how funny he is.
Renee gets crushes on boys all the time. It’s part of life, like breathing and air. I’m not really listening. I eat a whole heaping pla
te of spaghetti, and then go back for seconds. When I’m about done, I glance up at Renee. She’s not talking anymore. She’s staring at me instead. The way she’s doing it, it’s as though I accidentally ate our cat or something.
“What?”
“I thought you were supposed to be sick,” Renee wrinkles her nose. “The way you’re eating—it’s making me sick.”
Mom laughs. “It’s good she’s eating,” she says. “It means she’s starting to feel better.”
The way they’re talking about me, it makes me self-conscious. Makes me slow down and take small, dainty bites. But it’s kind of hard. It is spaghetti.
“Luke’s been calling for you,” Mom says.
“Yeah, like constantly,” Renee adds. “I guess you really scared him today. He said you were shaking and wouldn’t stop.”
I choke on my food.
“Are you alright?” Mom hands me my milk and makes me gulp it down.
“Luke said that?” I gasp, when I’m finally able to talk. “He said I went to school?”
“I told you not to,” Mom says, shaking her head.
“But … I did?”
Renee looks at me as though I’m nuts. “Yeah. I walked with you, remember?”
The way she says it, it’s as though she’s speaking to a small child with a learning problem. Well, not even that, an idiot.
I’m shaking again. I hide my hands under the table so Mom doesn’t notice. But I feel sick and frozen, just like I did this morning … only I thought this morning didn’t happen. I thought it was a dream.
I try to remember being at school, but it’s all kind of fuzzy. Jonah. Something about Jonah…. Oh! He said he’s my new locker partner. But—but I thought that was a dream.
I look at Mom, then at Renee. What they’re telling me—it can’t be true. I couldn’t have gone to school today. The way I remember things, I fainted before I even got to the front door. If everything really, truly happened—how did I get in the house?
I swallow. “But … when I woke up,”—I pause, biting my lip—“I was in bed.”
