Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1)

by Brittney Musick

  With everyone else making some sort of an announcement, I felt like I should share something as well, but I had nothing. Despite my boringness, it was actually a nice evening. Things weren’t perfect, of course, with Dad and Luke barely speaking. Mom and Dad seemed to be getting along okay, though, and I wondered how much of that had to do with the unexpected pregnancy.

  I spent the last few days of spring break either hanging out with Jackson—he also gave me another driving lesson—and listening to Oxide practice with renewed vigor as they prepared for the upcoming talent show. Jackson and Skylar spent Friday afternoon during band practice putting together a logo for Oxide. Everyone seemed to like what they came up with, so Jackson took it home that evening, scanned the sketch into his computer and added color.

  Mom took Luke and I to Wal-Mart to buy t-shirts for everyone to wear to the talent show. She also bought iron-on transfers, so we could add the band’s new logo to the shirts. I thought she would have gone to a print or embroidery shop and made something more professional if there had been more time. It was really cool of Mom to be so supportive of the band; also, it was very generous of her to foot the bill for all of the t-shirts, of which we wound up with fourteen—six for the members of the band, and the remaining eight for Mom, Dad, Skylar, Tegan, Jackson, Robby’s girlfriend, Nick’s girlfriend and myself.

  Jackson came over when we got home from the store. He had the digitized copy of the logo stored on his flash drive. We printed them out in my room—with the door open and Mom and Luke coming by every five minutes to check on us—and then Mom and I ironed them on the t-shirts while Jackson and Luke watched. In all, it was a very productive afternoon.

  Tegan called Sunday afternoon. She only stayed on the phone long enough to tell me that they’d drove all night, she was home and she was going to bed. I would have liked to talk to her longer, but I knew we’d catch up the next day at school. That was really the only part about school I was even remotely looking forward to. I’d enjoyed sleeping in and lazing around the house far too much. I suspected getting up early the next morning would be a complete nightmare.

  The next morning my assumption was realized. I hit the snooze bar three times before Mom came up to check on me. When she found me still in bed, she stole all of my covers and shooed me out of bed. I stumbled to the bathroom and was fully awake after a cold shower and feeling very much like a wet dog. I probably looked like one too.

  The bright spot in my icky morning was the Eggo Waffles Mom had waiting for me on the table when I got downstairs. My stomach growled the second the scent hit my nose. In my haste to eat, I managed to get butter on the sleeve of my shirt and syrup on my hands and pants. By that point, I kind of wanted to be put out of my misery. I considered drowning myself in syrup but hated the idea of leaving Mom with such an awful mess to clean up.

  I managed to eat the last half of my waffle without any further destruction. Then I went back upstairs, washed my hands and changed clothes. It was pretty clear that my first day back to school wasn’t going my way.

  As I was changing, there was a knock at the door. I figured it was Luke or Skylar coming to tell me to hurry up before they left without me. “I’m just about done,” I called.

  The doorknob turned and Mom stuck her head in. “It’s just me,” she smiled. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure,” I nodded, surprised that she’d bothered to ask. She stepped into the room as I continued buttoning up my blouse.

  “That’s a nice shirt,” she commented as she came to sit on my bed. “Is it new?”

  “I got it with my Christmas money a few weeks ago,” I replied, buttoning the last button and smoothing it down. “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

  “I just wanted to check up on you, really,” she smiled. “Is everything okay?”

  I shrugged. “Sure, I guess.” I couldn’t think of any one particular thing that was wrong besides my own natural clumsiness, but I was mostly used to that.

  “I haven’t had a chance to ask you before now,” she began. “What are your thoughts about the baby?”

  I glanced over at her to find her staring at me contently as she waited for an answer.

  I bit my lip, as I tried to assemble my thoughts and consider my words. I hadn’t made a whole lot of headway in sorting out my feelings thus far.

  “Well, I guess, honestly, I’m mostly weirded out by the whole thing,” I finally answered.

  “Are you upset by the idea of it?” she asked.

  “No, not upset.” I shrugged, thinking again. “Just uncertain, I guess,” I admitted. “I mean, I really didn’t expect you and Dad to have anymore kids after me, or at least if you were going to, I thought it would have been a lot sooner.”

  “Well, I think it’s obvious this wasn’t something we planned,” Mom smiled meekly.

  “But you’re happy, right?”

  “Of course,” she nodded, and I could see both joy and uncertainty her in sage eyes. “I just don’t want you, Luke, or Sky to think that this is going to make us love you any less.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I know that, Mom.”

  “I just wanted to make sure,” she smiled. “It may seem obvious, but sometimes it doesn’t hurt to say it anyway.”

  She had a good point, I realized.

  “You know,” I commented. “Just because I think it’s weird you’re having another baby it doesn’t mean I’m not happy. I think it will be okay.” I nodded to myself as I came to this realization. “I think it may even be good. For all of us.”

  “Yeah,” she smiled. “I think so too. She stood and crossed the room, pulling me into a warm embrace. “No matter what, Cecilia, you’ll still be my baby.”

  I groaned playfully. “Really? I was sort of hoping maybe the new baby would take the focus off of me.” I pursed my lips and then laughed with a shrug. “Oh well.”

  “Come on, you.” She pinched my cheek. “We better get downstairs before your brother or sister leave without you.”

  School was school. It seemed the teachers all must have had terrible vacations because they returned to school acting like slave drivers as they doled out the homework. I had so much homework by lunchtime on Monday it felt like I wouldn’t sleep again until Friday.

  The only good that came of going back to school was seeing Tegan. She was bright eyed after sleeping the majority of the previous day. She was also sporting a very healthy tan, which left me feeling pale and jealous. She also came bearing presents for Mark and I. I received a pretty dolphin figurine made of blue sand while Mark was gifted a seashell necklace.

  Mark seemed more thrilled by the fact that Tegan thought of him while she was on vacation than for the actual gift itself. They were still elusive about the status of their relationship, but he walked her to a couple of classes and even carried her books.

  “It won’t be long now until he asks her if she wants to go to the sock hop,” Jackson joked.

  “Oh, hush.” I elbowed him in the side. “I think it’s cute.”

  “Want me to carry your books?” he offered.

  “No.” I glared at him. “I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.”

  “How about the sock hop?” I kicked him in the shin.

  “Ouch!” he exclaimed.

  I stomped off and he called after me. “I guess you don’t want to get a soda pop after school either?”

  I considered flipping him the bird, but I didn’t want to risk getting in trouble, so I just ignored him as I made my way to my next class.

  The rest of the week was spent getting back into the school routine. Oxide was practicing as much as they could. Luke seemed disappointed in the loss of the morning and afternoon practices while the others seemed relieved to get a break. Still, they all seemed nervous about the talent show, and when Friday—the day of the show—arrived, he was a complete wreck all day.

  The band came over after school to pack their instruments into the various vehicles. Jackson and Tegan came over to help, and we al
l wore our Oxide t-shirts to show our support of the band. By the time Mom and Dad came home from work, we were all packed up and ready to roll.

  Even Mom and Dad wore their Oxide shirts. Dad looked a bit strange in a baseball style shirt. His discomfort showed, but he didn’t complain once. He even offered to take everyone out for dinner before the show, so we piled into the cars and headed to Wendy’s.

  I didn’t miss the grimace on Dad’s face when he footed the bill, but Mom beamed as we took up an entire section of the joint. Everyone was surprisingly quiet. I found Luke’s nervousness surprising and odd since he was so popular and used to performing in front of large crowds; albeit, sports were quite a bit different from this new musical venture.

  After everyone finished eating, we piled back into our designated vehicles and headed to the community center. The band had to check in and set things up before people started to arrive. I tried to help at first, but since I knew next to nothing about what went where, I just decided to stay out of the way.

  Skylar, Tegan, Jackson, and I hung around backstage with the band until people started to show up in the audience. Then we headed out to sit with my parents, who had saved seats for us. As we waited for the show to begin, I began to feel just as nervous as Luke. I wanted the band to do well. I wasn’t sure what would happen if they didn’t. I didn’t think it would be the end of Oxide, but it would certainly be a hit to their sense of morale.

  Dad might not be too heartbroken if they blew it, but I couldn’t see any good coming from that since baseball was off the table since the season was already beginning. I hoped in his own way—even if he didn’t understand Luke’s obsession with the band—that Dad wanted them to do well. He’d always been of the mindset that once you put your mind to doing something you should follow through.

  It wasn’t a mindset I was particularly fond of except in theory. When I was younger, I asked my parents if I could play soccer. I was all ready and raring to go; at least until I started to play. I was absolutely wretched and hated every second of it. I was clumsy and always wound up missing the ball or tripping over something. My teammates hated me because I never did anything but screw things up. To top it all off, I’d come home bruised and bawling, begging to quit. Dad refused, citing that quitting never paid off. I hated him in those moments, but I stuck it out until the end of the season. I never asked to play another sport ever again.

  When the show finally began, butterflies filled my stomach. I held on tightly to Jackson’s hand to keep from fidgeting. I hardly even registered the other people in the talent show; I was too distracted to care. Jackson kept rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb, as if to calm me. It was soothing, but it didn’t completely eliminate my unease.

  Finally, he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Relax, Sil. They’re going to do fine.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded.

  He smiled before giving me a peck on the lips. I smiled back when he pulled away. Apparently, he took that as a sign it was okay to lean in and kiss me on the neck.

  I glanced over my shoulder at my parents, but they were both watching the person on stage. I vaguely noted that it was a girl singing—a horrible rendition—of “Hero” by Mariah Carey. I turned back to Jackson, who leaned in for another kiss, but I turned my head, pushing at his shoulder lightly. “Jackson,” I warned through clenched teeth, “my parents.”

  He leaned back, staring into my eyes. “What about them?”

  “I don’t think they want to watch you give me a hickey.” I kept my voice low so that only he could hear, but still my face flooded with heat.

  “Fine.” He sat back in his seat, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest, while I sighed, turning my attention back to the stage. There were clowns doing tricks. I peeked at Tegan and could tell she wasn’t enjoying it. That came as no surprise; she’d been afraid of clowns since we watched It when we were younger. I found them creepy, too, but they usually didn’t bother me that much.

  When they finished, everyone began clapping. I noted Tegan’s claps were hard and slow, seemingly a show of relief rather than support. Next, another band played. They performed a country song I wasn’t familiar with, but it sounded pretty good to me, regardless. They had several people standing up, clapping and singing along.

  Halfway through the song, my attention was drawn away by Jackson’s hand on my knee. I glanced at him, but his eyes were on the stage. I didn’t think much of it until he moved his hand from my knee further up my leg. Even though I logically knew he wasn’t doing anything inappropriate, I still felt uncomfortable.

  I wasn’t used to public displays of affection. I always found other people’s PDA to be rather disrespectful. Also, I wasn’t sure exactly what had gotten into Jackson because he normally wasn’t so touchy-feely when we were in public.

  I tried to ignore his hand at first, but when his fingers rubbed along the inseam of my upper thigh, I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed his hand away, rougher than was probably necessary, and I couldn’t help but feel relieved as soon as the contact was gone. When Jackson touched my arm, I pushed it away and scooted as far to the right of my seat as I could.

  I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye and his face was drawn into a confused frown. When his eye caught mine, I could see the hurt and annoyance beneath. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

  “Nothing.” I crossed my legs as the band on stage finished their song. The audience clapped; some people even whistled and cheered. I kept my eyes on the stage as the band began to clear off, unable to meet Jackson’s eyes, as Oxide began to move their stuff onto the stage. The drums and keyboard were set up on boards with wheels on the bottom, so they could quickly be rolled onto the stage.

  When Jackson tried to take my hand while Oxide set up, I pulled away and moved my hands to my lap. I could feel Jackson’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I couldn’t understand what was going on with him; why now, of all times, with my parents only a few seats away, had he tried to hold my hand, kiss my neck and put his hand on my knee? I just wanted to watch the talent show in peace without worrying about Dad noticing Jackson’s antics. If he did, I was certain Jackson would never be able to use his hands again. Ever.

  He whispered my name a few times, trying to draw my attention. I ignored him at first, but when he nudged me in the side, I finally glanced at him. “Stop it,” I hissed.

  He frowned, opening his mouth to speak, but the lady who had introduced all of the acts interrupted him as she introduced Oxide. I turned back to the stage, nervous and excited, as Mark counted off the beat before they launched into playing “Pressure” by Paramore.

  The music sounded great and when Stevie came in on vocals, she sounded amazing. Her voice was clear and full of just the right amount of emotion. Skylar whistled, jumping out of her seat and clapping along. Tegan grabbed my elbow, as she stood to do the same, and drew me up with her. We clapped and sang as the band played on.

  My confusion and annoyance with Jackson was temporarily forgotten until I glanced his way. He was slouched down in his seat with his arms crossed. The scowl on his face seemed entirely wrong, but I just rolled my eyes, deciding I wouldn’t let whatever his problem was drag me out of the moment.

  The song seemed to end much too quickly, but the band had sounded even more amazing than when they practiced in the garage. The crowd seemed to energize them, and I was thrilled that their first performance had gone so well. When they finished, Tegan, Skylar, and I screamed, clapped and cheered. Stevie blew us a kiss, gave a little bow and ran over to help the others clear the stage.

  By comparison, the rest of the show was a bore. After the last act finished and while the judges tallied the scores, the announcer talked about funding for the center and volunteer work. Normally, I would have paid more attention, but I found myself distracted yet again by Jackson. His surly mood remained, and I realized this was the first time since we became a couple that he’d been upset with me. Natural
ly, I didn’t like it, but I wasn’t sure how to fix it.

  Tegan drew me into a discussion about who we thought the top three winners might be. Before we could decide on anything, we caught a few nasty glares from the people seated in front of us because we weren’t listening to the announcer. Mom even shushed us, but by that time the judges were ready to announce the winners.

  Much to Tegan’s dismay, the clowns came in third. Admittedly, they were significantly better than the Mariah Carey wannabe. The country band, whose name I never caught, came in first while Oxide took second. It wasn’t the win we’d all been hoping for, but it was still good. They’d won two hundred dollars, which seemed to please the band and leave them in good spirits.

  Congratulations were given all around, and Mom thought we should celebrate a successful show. Dad seemed uncertain—probably thinking of how much money he’d have to shell out—until Mom suggested she and Dad go by the store for ice cream and everyone came back to the house to celebrate.

  I turned to ask Jackson if he could come, but I didn’t see him anywhere. I looked around for a few minutes, and even asked a few of the others if they’d seen him. No one knew where he was, so I ventured outside to see if he’d come out with the crowd. When I couldn’t find his car anywhere in the lot, I realized he must have left.

  I couldn’t believe he’d gone without telling me, but I sighed, shaking my head, and went back inside. Apparently, he was still pissed and pouting; I wasn’t looking forward to fixing this mess.

  Saturday, March 31st, 2007

  Frozen with fear

  My heart aches.

  The ice in his eyes

  Leaves me paralyzed.

  Vanished, gone,

  Out of my sight;

  He slipped away

  Like a thief in the night

  Panic blisters from

  Questions unanswered;