by Rachel Kiss
Renee and Mom both look at each other, like: “So what?”
Finally Renee just comes out and asks it, “So?”
“So, how—how’d I get in bed?”
Renee shrugs. “You were there when I came home—sweating like a pig.” She eyes me closely. “You really don’t remember going to school today?”
“I remember. I just … I thought it was a dream.”
“Jeez, you really are sick,” Renee says.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I guess I am.”
CHAPTER 4
The world is suddenly a creepy place. This morning really happened? I fainted?!
A chill goes through me. HOW did I windup in my bed?
How???
The way I remember things, someone had been following me as I hobbled home. They called my name right before I fainted.
I shudder, so terrified it was Jonah.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the thought—well, two thoughts, actually. One, the dream about me kissing Jonah all hot and heavy and breathless and panting. The other, that he might have picked me up from my yard and carried me to my room and placed me in my bed. But first he had taken my shoes off me, and my sweater.
I grab my guitar and start playing. Hoping it can get my mind off spooky Jonah. Still, I keep thinking about what if it’s true—Jonah picked me up and tucked me in my bed. Jonah! My true life stalker! The thought gives me the shivers. (So does the dream I had about him—soooo inappropriate. And messed up.)
Suddenly, Renee barges into my room. She’s like that. She barges in all the time. The thought of knocking never seems to cross her mind.
“Listen, Jazz,” she sits beside me on my bed, “I’ve been thinking. We should trade lockers.”
“Hmm?” I keep playing not really listening to her. I do it all the time.
“Well,” Renee flips her hair. “Since Jonah and I are going to be science partners—”
My hands freeze. So does my heart. I stop playing, paralyzed. The only part of my body that can move is my pulse. It’s thumping crazy. “Did—did you say you’re science partners with Jonah?”
Renee looks bugged, mad that I interrupted her plea with such a stupid question. “Yeah. So?”
I can’t talk. I can’t even breathe. The boy Renee has been talking about non-stop—it’s Jonah? Stalker Jonah?
Renee furrows her brow. “What’s the matter with you? You’re scarring me, Jazz.” She gets off my bed. “I’m going to call Mom.”
I grab her arm, pulling her back to the bed. “No, don’t. I’m okay.”
She studies me, not looking convinced. “Then what’s going on? I told you I’m science partners with Jonah. I talked about him all through dinner.”
“Okay. I just, I wasn’t listening.”
“Thanks a lot,” she says sarcastically as she heads for the door, but she turns back to me before leaving. “So, can we trade lockers?”
I don’t actually say anything. I’m still too stunned at the lengths of Jonah’s stalking—and Renee’s blindness. Her total inability to see what he’s doing—well, what he’s trying to do. (Probably.)
Renee puts her hands on her hips, waiting for my answer, looking beyond perturbed. “Look, I know he was feeling all guilty after your accident—and he kept visiting you at the hospital—”
“Not visiting me,” I mutter. “Stalking me.”
“Whatever.” She says it like: Get over yourself. “Jazz, not every guy on the planet is in love with you.”
I blink. Dramatically. “I’m aware of that—thanks.”
“I mean, besides Luke,” she says with a smirk. “Other guys can resist you too—believe it or not.”
Okay, I guess she’s rubbing it in my face that I’ve had a lot of boyfriends … and not the best track record with them, since really (pathetically) all I want is Luke—who put me in the ‘Friend Zone’ way back in elementary school, and so doesn’t seem to want to mess with that—the box he put me in. But apparently, Renee’s up on that—me wanting Luke. (Joy.)
Great, now my face is on fire.
Renee goes on sarcastically, “I know you’re trying to date every guy in our entire school, since you can’t have your heart’s desire—Luke—but Jonah isn’t like all those thousands of guys you date and then trash. He’s not a guy you can walk all over. He’s different—”
“Yeah he’s ‘different,’” I mutter.
Renee chooses to ignore that—my understatement. But then again, Renee doesn’t know the majority of Jonah’s doings—not the underwear, or the breaking-in … or most of the creepy stuff he’s done, since I’d been (insanely) trying to protect Jonah. (For some unclear reason.)
Renee goes on, “I know for a second Jonah was paying special attention to you—since he was feeling guilty—since he hit you with his car. But that doesn’t mean he wants to ‘hit’ you with his gorgeous lips.” She does a dreamy sigh—like she’s imagining him ‘hitting’ her with them, really hard. And tongue-y.
Cringe.
She gives another gross fantasy sigh, then gives ME a Get Real smirk, “Just give it up, Jazz. And give up the locker. Jonah’s never going to be one of your boy-toys.”
I jerk my head up. She thinks I want to pursue Jonah? Stalker Jonah?
The idea is so twisted and sooo perverse I choke.
Renee scowls at me, like she’s mad. Mad that I’m choking. “Jazz!!! Are you okay?”
I swallow, trying to breathe, and when she sees that I can—and, you know, I’m not going to go into another annoying coma—she asks again, “So, can we trade lockers?”
I roll my eyes. There’s no way I can explain Jonah to Renee. No way. She won’t believe me. She’ll be mad and suspicious if I try to warn her to stay away from him. No matter what I say, she’ll go on thinking I want him all to myself, that I’m concocting a hokey stalker story because I don’t want her to get to date him. Because that’s just Renee—the entire world revolves around her nabbing a hot guy—and the rest of our worlds revolve around trying to stop her (???).
Unfortunately, I totally downplayed Jonah’s stalking with my mom while I was in the hospital. Because I didn’t want her to put out a restraining order on the poor (demented) guy. I might have gone overboard trying to plead his case, and accidently turned him into some sort of saint in her eyes. I mean, my mom seemed perfectly fine at the dinner table when she knew (apparently) Renee was science partners with Jonah. (OR she was secretly like me—not listening to a word Renee said.)
“Whatever,” I mutter to Renee about the locker.
She smiles, smug and happy. “Thanks!” she chirps, and then she’s finally out my door. Relief!!!
After she leaves, I crash my head down on my pillow. Jonah Michaels. He’s wheedling his way back into my life.
CHAPTER 5
Okay, here’s a tidbit about my past with Jonah. In middle school, I’d had this semi-sooort-of-friend that invited me over to her house. Her name was Sabrina and I was quite shocked that she invited me over as she was rather stuck up and a cheerleader and I had sort of been under the impression she thought she was socially above me being anything more than a ‘semi-friend.’ You know, one that you talk to at school in the mornings until your ‘real’ friends arrive.
But she invited me over to her house to ‘gab and stuff.’ Those were her actual words—‘Come over to my house and we’ll gab and stuff.’ Then she added, “And you can show me your dance moves—you’re taking ballet lessons, right?”
I had blinked at her, stunned. I had no idea she knew that. It’s not like I went around telling people. I figured Ally must have told her for some reason (though I couldn’t figure out why). Still, I’d been slightly flattered Sabrina wanted to see my ‘moves.’ I thought maybe, since she was a cheerleader and everything, she wanted to get some new routine ideas … or something. Whatever. Ally was busy after school that day, I had nothing better to do—except maybe bug Luke to teach me a new song on his guitar or something. Or maybe make him
play one of our co-owned video games. Whatever. I’d spare him.
“Sure, I’ll come over,” I told her.
So, I went over to her house … and she instantly tried to pry secrets out of me—like what boy I liked and … well, no. Mostly just that—what boy I was craving. But I, of course, didn’t mention Luke to her. He “dated” lots of her friends—cheerleaders and beauty queens and stuff.
I use the air-quotes around the word “dated” because it was middle school. He mostly just ‘let’ his flavor-of-the-week hang around him and do favors for him and stuff. He’s nice that way (roll eyes). It’s not like he seemed that interested in any of them particularly, except maybe for experimental kissing (working on his technique—perfecting it.) (I’d hear.) (And dream.) Anyway, it’s not like he was ‘serious’ about any of them. Not the way they were about him. What I’m saying is, Luke—he got around. He was what we call a ‘player.’ Even back then—in middle school. So, nope. I didn’t mention Luke to Sabrina. Not one word.
But, I’d had my fair share of ‘boyfriends.’
Boyfriends—they weren’t hard to find. Not even back in middle school. Well, not for me. I wasn’t crazy about any of them though, since my ‘crazy’ was saved for Luke. But being ‘crazy’ for Luke was, well—crazy. So, yeah, the boy did not cross my lips with Sabrina.
Instead, I talked about this guy, Shane, who looked like Xander from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. (I had me a thing for Xander. A major thing.)
“What do you think about Jonah?” Sabrina pressed, not seeming too terribly interested in my crush on a fictional character (though let me just say—swoon).
I blinked. “Jonah? Jonah Michaels?”
Back in fifth grade Luke had punched out Jonah because he said Jonah had been looking in my house window, watching me eat Coco-Puffs.
That day Luke told Jonah to stay away from me, or he’d beat him up worse next time. And he called him a ‘pervert’ and ‘Peeping Tom’ and a bunch of words I’d never heard before.
“I was just eating cereal,” I told Luke, super torn. I mean, why’d he go so crazy on poor Jonah who didn’t have a mom since his dad killed her? (That tragic, horrible, sad fact always made me want to stick up for Jonah.) But then again, the dude had been looking in my window. Creepy!!!
Luke growled, “It doesn’t matter what you were doing, Jazz—he could have saw you doing anything.”
“Well, it was my kitchen window,” I muttered. “I don’t do much in there but eat.”
“Jazz!” Luke was still growling, like he was mad at me or something, “Don’t let Jonah near you. The guy is twisted in the head—over you.”
Okay, he kind of was. You’ll get why I say this in a moment—when I go on with my story about what happened while I was at Sabrina’s house that day.
After Sabrina asked me her question about Jonah, her eyes got all shiny and she got this mischievous smile on her face. “Yeah,” she said. “What do you think of Jonah Michaels?—he’s super cute, right?”
“Uh … yeah. He is.” I felt weird talking about Jonah. Especially with Sabrina. She was kind of mean. I squinted at her. “Why? Do you have a crush on him?”
She laughed. “On Jonah? No! But you think he’s cute—right?”
I shrugged. Didn’t I already say that? “Yeah,” I admitted. “But you must too. He is. He’s cute.”
She did another laugh. But it was kind of fake. “We fought over him once,” she said. “Remember?—in the fifth grade?”
“Oh … yeah.” She had made fun of him—of poor Jonah with the dead mom. She was taunting him during recess. I had told Jonah he should punch her, since she was being so mean to him (it was the first time I had actually ever spoken to him) but Jonah had shook his head. He said through gritted teeth, like he wished it wasn’t true, “She’s a girl. I can’t hit a girl.”
“Well, I can,” I told him. And I slugged her. Hard. Right in the nose. Then, of course, Sabrina and I got in a huge fight, pulling hair and stuff, until a teacher ran up to us and made us stop. She sent us both to the office where we got a lecture on fighting. But that was it. No calls to our parents. Not even detention.
Later that day, on my walk home from the school bus, I noticed Jonah was walking behind me. Usually I walked home with Luke, but he was absent from school that day, and I just happened to glance back and see Jonah.
Doing a double-take, I turned back to him, kind of awkward, since I never introduced myself to him before, though he had been new to our school last year—and in my class. Well, last year.
“Hi, I’m Jazz,” I told him, noticing ‘Whoa, the kid has beautiful blue eyes there in his beautiful face.’ It did something weird and fluttery to my girly middle school heart. And sent curious zings zapping through me.
Jonah nodded at my introduction. “I know who you are,” he said, his voice husky and appealing, and very, very low. “I’ve walked home behind you like, every day since last year.”
Oh-kay. I did not know that. When I mentioned this to him—that I never realized he was there—he nodded again, like he already knew that. Then he added, “If you ever turned around, you would.”
I squinted at him. “I turned around today.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And here I am.”
I swallowed. Right. This beautiful boy I had never noticed walking behind me before—until Luke wasn’t with me to hog up all of my attention. (Not that I was blaming Luke. He didn’t ask for my attention. My attention just snapped to him … and wouldn’t let go. Not for anything.)
But now Luke wasn’t here, and I was noticing Jonah’s blue, blue eyes—and the way they stared into mine like they were starving for me to keep looking into them. (Well, fine.)
“You gave me a valentine last year,” Jonah said.
My heart thumped. Wild. “Um … yeah. I did.”
That had been his first day at our school—Valentines Day. So, of course, no one had Valentines for him, since no one knew he was coming or anything. He just showed up—at our school. So, yeah, no one had a single Valentine for him. But I gave him one anyway. I gave him my big, special one that was supposed to go to my teacher—since I figured she wouldn’t miss it. And I knew his mom died, since our teacher had told the class that when she had sent him to the office to get a book or something. She had said, “Be very nice to him. His mom recently died.”
She didn’t tell us that his mom was murdered. Still, it was enough for me to give him my most special Valentine. And the special chocolate sucker that I had planned to give to Ally, my bestest, best friend.
I had quickly written on Jonah’s Valentine, ‘I’m giving you my most special chocolate sucker, because I want you to feel welcome here at our school. I hope you like it here and will be happy. Love Jazz.’ (I wouldn’t have put the ‘Love’ part, but it was already written on the card, as at first I was going to give it to Ally, but then my mom had told me I should give it to my teacher, since it was the biggest, fanciest Valentine and she didn’t want the other kids to think I was playing favorites—though I so was. Ally was my favorite friend. But whatever. I compromised with my mom. I’d give my teacher my special Valentine, but Ally my special sucker. But then, I ended up giving them both to Jonah.)
Staring into Jonah’s eyes that day after getting into the fight with Sabrina, I could tell my special Valentine had been ‘special’ to him. I mean, since he had just suddenly, out of nowhere, blurted out about it—a year later.
Also from his stare, I could tell he liked me. But right then, my mom came driving up and told me to hop in the car, as she was late for an appointment.
“Hello,” she told Jonah, who just stood watching her talk to me like he wished she would drive away, and not whisk me away from him.
Jonah blinked when she spoke to him, like she woke him out of a daze. “Okay, bye,” he said, though all she had said to him was, ‘hello.”
Then he walked away really fast, like he was afraid she would probably yell at him or something.
“He doesn’t have a mom,” I had explained to my mom, trying to explain why he had acted so weird.
… though it ended up that hadn’t been weird at all—not compared to the rest of the stuff that Jonah did after that day. You know, like peeking in my kitchen window (though he never did that again after Luke punched him out, and practically threatened his life) but he did other stuff. Lots of other stuff.
Okay, sorry, I’m digressing.
However, I should maybe mention though, that after the day I slugged Sabrina, she was a total witch to me about clocking her. Which is a big no duh, right? But actually, she got over it quicker than you’d think. Because I was best friends with Luke. And Luke pretty much ruled the school. And Sabrina’s heart. Well, all of the girls’ hearts at our school, actually. Mine included. (Duh.) But the difference between me and those other girls was—Luke had made a promise to me back when he first moved into the house right next door to mine. He had promised to be my very best friend, forever. (Of course we had only been three at the time. But still, he was holding up his promise pretty well. I mean, Ally became my best friend in the second grade. But Luke was still way up there on the friendship-chain, and no way would he let anyone be mean to me. Not even Sabrina with her pom-poms and long, perfect hair, and fluttering eyelashes.)
Anyway, that day in middle school, the day Sabrina invited me over to her house, she had laughed about our fight in elementary school. She was all smiley, reminiscing about me slugging her in the face over Jonah (???). Weird, right? “You seemed to like him a lot,” she said as we sipped lemonade in her bedroom.
“It wasn’t that,” I countered. “You were mean to him.”
She looked uncomfortable for a moment. Flushing, she stammered out, “Uh, yeah. I guess I was.” Then she quickly changed the subject, giving me whiplash, “But that was a long time ago.” Her eyes lit up. “Let me see you dance.”
She put on the classical music that I dance ballet to—which was surprising. How did she know what I danced to? And how did she happen to have it ready? It was weird. But she turned the music on, so I shrugged and floated around her room, pretending it wasn’t her watching me dance, but Luke. (Yeah, okay. I still do that—in my head, I’m always dancing for Luke.)
