Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1)

by Brittney Musick

  After I’d taken out the things I could remember, I grabbed the downstairs phone, which I rarely ever used because I didn’t want to tie up Mom and Dad’s phone line. I dialed the Tylers’ number.

  Travis answered, and I smiled because he was just the person I wanted to talk to.

  “Hey, it’s Silly,” I said, though I was sure he’d recognize my voice.

  “Oh, hi, Silly,” Travis greeted. “Did you need to speak to Tegan?”

  “Actually, I have a few questions for you,” I said.

  I could tell from his answer that he was somewhat surprised, but after I explained what I was trying to do, he went into teaching mode, explaining each step I’d need to take for the meatloaf to turn out. I jotted down a few notes as we spoke.

  He even suggested seasoned potatoes as a side before giving me all of the necessary details to prepare them. Once I had all of the information I needed, I thanked him for his help—and he wished me luck—before I hung up the phone and set to work on dinner.

  I didn’t know how it would go over with my family. I doubted they trusted me to cook since they hardly trusted me with peanut butter and jelly, but I realized I really didn’t care what they thought. I’d cooked this very meal under Travis’ supervision on more than one occasion, and he seemed to have faith in me, so why shouldn’t I have faith in myself?

  I had to prepare the meatloaf first because it had to bake, so I followed Travis’ directions and stirred it all together before placing it into the glass dish Mom always used when she attempted to make meatloaf. As nervous as I was about my family’s reaction, I realized it couldn’t possibly be any worse than some of Mom’s outcomes.

  Once the meatloaf was in the oven, I set to work on the potatoes. It was at that point Dad entered the kitchen. I’d been distracted enough by the task at hand that I hadn’t heard him drive up. He’d left his shoes by the garage door through the utility room.

  He sat his briefcase down on the counter and observed for a moment before asking, “What are you doing?”

  “Cooking dinner,” I replied as I diced a potato.

  “You can’t cook,” he stated, though he didn’t sound so certain.

  I barely glanced at him as I replied, “Yes, I can.”

  For a moment, he looked dumbstruck by my declaration. Then he asked, “Where did you learn to cook?”

  I wondered if he was afraid I might say I’d learned from Mom. I considered teasing him with that answer, but I suspected he probably wouldn’t have as much of a problem with turning down my food as he would if he did the same with Mom’s.

  “Tegan’s dad,” I said simply as Luke entered the kitchen.

  He greeted Dad with a quick, “Hey.” Then he stuck his nose up in the air and sniffed. “What smells so good?”

  “Dinner,” I replied. The “duh” was implied.

  Luke glanced around the room, brows drawing together. “Who’s cooking?”

  I rolled my eyes. Was he blind?

  “I am.”

  “Oh.” He considered for a moment, thoughtful, before he merely shrugged and said, “When’s it going to be done? I’m starving.”

  “It should be ready by the time Mom gets home,” I answered, glancing at the timer for the meatloaf.

  “Okay, cool,” he nodded before turning around and walking out of the room.

  Dad stuck around for a few more minutes, watching me dice potatoes. Finally, as if coming to his senses, he walked out of the room, looking somewhat bewildered.

  I shrugged to myself and carried on with the task at hand.

  After the potatoes were chopped, I added the cooking oil to the frying pan and waited for it to heat up. Then I went to the pantry and collected all of the necessary spices. It didn’t take but a couple of minutes for the oil to heat, so I added the potatoes to the skillet and seasoned them with the array of spices.

  I stirred it all around, making sure all of the potatoes were seasoned, and then returned all of the spices to the pantry. I grabbed a can of green beans to round out the meal.

  Once they were on the stove with a bit of butter added for flavor, I checked the potatoes, stirring them around to make sure they were cooking evenly. I remembered drinking the last can of Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper, so I checked the refrigerator to see if we had anything else to drink. We didn’t, of course. It seemed like we went through canned drinks like there was no tomorrow.

  I remembered seeing a mix for raspberry iced tea in the pantry, so I dug that out and made a pitcher of tea, checking the potatoes occasionally so they wouldn’t burn. They were just supposed to get crunchy, and they were getting close.

  I was praying they’d get cooked before Mom got home, and Luke came back ready to eat. I was glad, at least, Luke didn’t seem too concerned by the idea of me cooking dinner. Dad appeared both baffled and rather reluctant. Perhaps he was just scared I’d taken after Mom in the cooking department. It was probably for the best that I hadn’t teased him with that answer.

  For the first time in what felt like forever, it seemed as if luck were on my side because everything came together as the timer for the meatloaf went off. I took it out of the oven and let it cool on the counter and turned down the potatoes to low so they wouldn’t burn while I took out five empty glasses and added ice.

  I poured everyone a drink and sat them at the table before I grabbed plates and silverware and set the table, and I was setting the meatloaf on a potholder on the table along with the potatoes and green beans when Mom arrived home.

  She bustled into the house through the garage entrance, looking stressed and hurried, but she stopped at the archway between the kitchen and the dining room and gasped. “Silly, did you do all of this?”

  I nodded.

  She smiled and walked over to the table to inspect the food. “It looks wonderful.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “It’s ready.”

  “Great,” she said. “I’ll go tell the others.”

  Even though she looked relieved not to have to hurry and put something together for dinner, Mom still looked drained, so I said, “No, I can do that. Go ahead and sit down and rest.”

  Mom wrapped an arm around my shoulder and gave me a half hug before she kissed me on the forehead. I hugged her back before pulling away and motioning for her to sit down before I went and told the others that dinner was ready.

  Luke made it into the kitchen at top speed. Dad followed somewhat apprehensively with Skylar right behind him while I brought up the rear. Luke, Skylar, and Mom quickly prepared their plates and tucked right in. Dad was more hesitant, and, for the first time, I was kind of nervous because it was now the moment of truth. I’d told Dad I could cook, and I didn’t want to look like a liar if it turned out badly.

  Luckily, Luke and Skylar started making sounds of approval while I could only describe the look on Mom’s face as dreamy. Finally, Dad took a bite and looked both relieved and pleased by what he tasted.

  “This is delicious,” he declared.

  “It is!” Skylar agreed heartily. “Did you try a new recipe, Mom?”

  Mom looked amused as she said, “I didn’t make it.”

  “Who did?” Skylar was, obviously, confused; much like Luke had been.

  “Sil,” Luke said between bites.

  Skylar’s nearly non-existent eyebrows shot up, but then she pursed her lips and nodded just a little, as if impressed. With the seal of approval all around, I was finally able to dig in. I couldn’t deny I was pleased with my cooking as well. It turned out perfectly. I couldn’t wait to tell Tegan and her dad. I knew they’d both be proud of me.

  Everything was gobbled down, so there were no leftovers to worry about, and once everyone started to disband from the dining room table, I started to collect the dishes, but Mom insisted, “You let me get those.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked uncertainly. Mom looked slightly less haggard, but it was still plain to me that she was exhausted.

  “Yes,” she nodded firmly. “Thank you for cooking
dinner tonight, sweetheart. I really appreciate the help, and you did a terrific job.”

  “Thanks,” I blushed, thrilled by all of her praise.

  “You’ll have to teach me the recipes sometime,” she said brightly.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her I thought she and meatloaf were hopeless. Instead, I just smiled and said, “Sure, anytime.”

  I headed back up to my room, groaning as I thought about the homework I’d yet to touch, but as soon as I stepped into my room, my eyes landed on the computer screen. I froze for a moment, shocked that I’d completely forgotten about Jackson.

  Even though I’d fled the room to escape talking to him for a few minutes, I hadn’t thought about him once while I was downstairs. I hadn’t walked away with the intention of leaving for a couple of hours. I immediately felt contrite.

  I walked over and sat down at the computer. Jackson was still signed on, and he’d sent me a couple of messages since I’d left.

  jackyourhart: Did you get lost?

  jackyourhart: I think you forgot about me.

  My first instinct was to reply and apologize for leaving for so long, but then I remembered why I left in the first place. I realized I still didn’t feel like talking to him. I considered what I should do for a moment. The right thing would be to tell him I was sorry and explain why I’d been gone for so long before letting him know I needed to sign off and work on my homework.

  Instead of doing the right thing, I took the coward’s route; I signed off of AIM without another word. As I dug my books out of my bag, I felt the heavy weight of guilt settle over me for what I’d just done.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “So, you just left and never came back?” Disapproval colored Tegan’s tone, and I nodded with a cringe. “Why would you do that?”

  That was a very good question. After running on empty for days, I’d finally got my first decent night of sleep last night. By the light of morning, some of my sanity had returned and with it came the heavy hand of guilt.

  Everything seemed to be moving so fast lately. My emotions were running extremely high, making me overly sensitive. Thanks to the clarity of a good night’s rest, I’d been allowed the minute I really needed to catch my breath and think things through. I could see now, whether I’d misinterpreted Jackson’s intentions or not, that my actions were unwarranted.

  When Tegan found me cautiously skirting the halls on Tuesday morning at school, she immediately knew that something was up. I felt so ashamed of myself that I didn’t want to admit my stupidity to Tegan, but, because she was my best friend and never judged me, I told her anyway.

  Despite my trust in her, I knew she was tense due to my recent edginess, so I bit my nails as I recounted what happened after she signed off AIM the previous afternoon. Naturally, she was stunned while my shame only increased.

  “I don’t know!” I sighed, searching for the right words to explain as I lay my head against the cool metal of the locker I leaned against. “I didn’t mean to. Not really, anyway. I was still upset about talking to him in the library. He was bantering with me like everything was fine, and I felt anything but okay.”

  I glanced at Tegan out of the corner of my eye and her previously narrowed eyes softened slightly, so I went on. “I guess I thought I’d just leave the room for a few minutes, regroup, and go back, but I started fixing dinner. I was so focused on that I just didn’t even think about Jackson. Then I went back upstairs, saw the computer and remembered.”

  I chewed nervously at my bottom lip and then shrugged. “I still didn’t know what to say, and, honestly, I really didn’t want to try—even if it was just a few minutes of apologizing and then signing off before he could reply—so I just signed off without saying anything.”

  Tegan pursed her lips as she leaned her back against the locker beside me. She was quiet for a moment before she took a deep breath. “Well, you could always tell him that something came up and you couldn’t come back to the computer,” she suggested.

  “Which isn’t a complete lie,” I pointed out.

  Tegan chose to ignore my words and added, “Or you could tell him the truth.”

  “That I was being an overly sensitive brat?”

  “No.” Tegan rolled her eyes. “Tell him your self-centered, over-zealous and obviously jealous older sister has you convinced his only interest in you is to get to her. Maybe he could set the situation straight and spare us all from the drama.”

  I was somewhat surprised by Tegan’s words. Just yesterday she’d been trying to point out that my sister wasn’t always so bad. Of course, it wasn’t often Tegan spoke ill of anyone, but I knew her of opinions on Skylar often mimicked my own. Part of that probably came from the bias of being my best friend, but I realized maybe she had a more objective view of this situation.

  She kept telling me not to listen to Skylar, but it was hard. Every time I tried to look at things clearly and found a flaw in Skylar’s interpretation of Jackson’s intentions, he seemed to do something else that made me doubt Tegan’s reassurances and start to believe Skylar was right.

  Believing Skylar, though, meant my nice guy impression of Jackson was completely wrong. With his good looks and great personality, he had so much going for him, but it also made me wonder why he would show any sort of interest in me. Despite what Tegan claimed, I wasn’t naïve enough to believe he was interested in dating me, but I’d thought maybe he did really want to be my friend. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

  As easy as it was for Tegan to suggest I just ask Jackson about his intentions, I knew there was no way I could just casually ask, “By the way, are you hanging out with me because you like me or is it because you want to gain Skylar’s interest?”

  Also, I had no desire to go looking for him because that would mean trying to explain my disappearing act last night. Instead, I was determined to avoid him until I had time to think and figure things out. With only a couple of days left before Thanksgiving break, I wouldn’t have to avoid him for very long. I just hoped the long weekend would give me the time I needed to think.

  “You’re being ridiculous,” Tegan said, shaking her head after I’d explained my plan to her, but she agreed, nonetheless, to help me keep a look out for any sign of Jackson.

  The coast was clear through my first two classes, but when lunchtime rolled around, there was the added stress of avoiding Mark Moses as well. I also really wanted to go back to the library and check out some books, but I was too afraid I’d see Jackson again, so I decided that would have to wait.

  I spent the majority of lunch trying to hide behind Tegan, which was somewhat ridiculous since we were now the same height, but in the end I got lucky and didn’t cross paths with either Jackson or Mark Moses in the hallways or during lunch.

  Journalism was spent putting together the special edition of the newspaper. When it became obvious we wouldn’t get through all of the papers by the end of class, Mr. Hensley offered extra credit to anyone who volunteered to stay after school and help put the papers together, so we’d be ready to sell them the following afternoon during lunch.

  Tegan and I both volunteered after she assured me that if Tierney couldn’t come back to pick us up, then one of her parents wouldn’t mind doing it. Even though I wasn’t exactly keen on hanging out at school after hours, I thought it might help in my quest to avoid Jackson and Mark Moses.

  English Composition wasn’t too terrible. Wanting to keep my mind off of the situations with Jackson and Mark Moses, my homework had been getting more focus than usual. For once, I felt like I actually had a pretty good grasp on the class discussion. I even raised my hand to answer a few questions. It was quite exciting that I got them right.

  Normally, I’d have been surprised by my bravery, but after facing off with Mark Moses, Miss Barkley didn’t seem quite as intimidating as she had before. My new courage seemed to be just the boost I needed for my morale.

  After class Tegan and I found Tierney and told her about our plans to stay after schoo
l. She agreed to let Trista or Travis know, so one of them could come and pick us up since she had to go to work. I used Tegan’s cell phone to call home and leave a message for my parents in case they arrived home before me. Then we headed to the computer lab.

  Only a handful of people stayed behind, and Mr. Hensley quickly put us to work, giving us each a job. Tegan and I were assigned the simple, though somewhat boring, task of folding the papers and putting them together in order.

  Mr. Hensley turned on a radio, and for the most part we all worked quietly together. Annabelle and another girl, a sophomore named Eliza, double checked to make sure the pages were all in order, and then a boy named Lance, who I thought was a junior, stapled the papers together.

  After a while, my fingers started to get sore from folding papers and making sure the crease was crisp. Then, once Tegan and I finished folding papers, Mr. Hensley started counting through how many copies we had. He then instructed Tegan to help Lance staple the papers together before he handed me a stack of papers—the master copies, I realized—and asked me to take them down to the office and ask for twenty more copies.

  It felt odd to walk down the nearly empty school hallways. Normally, they were filled with students and the noise they brought along with them. Without students, it felt eerily cold and quiet. While it made me a little uneasy, it was also kind of interesting. I saw things, like posters and bulletins for various events and clubs, that I’d probably passed hundreds of times without noticing.

  As interesting as it was, I realized I needed to hurry up because Mr. Hensley and the others would likely be waiting on me. Promising myself I’d take a closer look later, I picked up the pace, and when I arrived at the office, the secretary was none too happy with my request.