Rock Bottom

by Canosa, Jamie

  “Excuse me. I’ve got one more thing to take care of before I have to meet Coach.”

  Angela glanced at Carrie and shrugged. “You will be in homeroom tomorrow, correct?”

  “Abso”—freaking—“lutely.”

  “Alright.”

  I waited until they both headed for the rear exit to the parking lot at the back of the school before storming off in the opposite direction.

  “Where the hell were you?” Slamming his locker shut, I nearly took Elijah’s fingers off, but that didn’t stop me from planting my hands on my hips and glaring up at him.

  “Sorry?” Elijah glanced around his group of friends and back down at me, looking about as confused to see me talking to him in public as everyone else in the hallway.

  “This morning?” The smell of grease in the morning so thick it clogged my pores just from sitting there wasn’t exactly how I’d planned to begin my school week. “I waited over half-an-hour in that crappy deli.”

  I’d sat in that cracked plastic booth, my eyes skipping from the clock on the wall to the front window as though I were watching a tennis match between the two, waiting on him for closer to an hour, actually, but he didn’t need to know that. “I was late.”

  If that was his form of payback, it was a real bitch.

  Surprise widened those gunmetal gray eyes. “You actually showed up?”

  “I said I would.”

  “I—” Elijah shook his head, remembering what we’d both seemed to have forgotten. This was anything but a private conversation. Lips sealed tight, he looked to the crowd of people beginning to gather around us. “Mind giving us a second?”

  Little-by-little, the onlookers scattered until only one dark eyed guy remained planted at Elijah’s side, showing no intention of moving. I’d seen him there before, at Elijah’s side. They were always together, but I couldn’t recall his name for the life of me. Denis, David, Donald . . .

  “Declan, ya mind?” Elijah’s brows went up.

  “You for real, man?”

  Some sort of silent guy exchange went down between the two of them where no words were spoken and yet they had an entire conversation. It ended when Declan shook his head and turned to go. Not without first sparing a glare in my direction.

  “Look.” Elijah’s voice drew my attention away from his friend’s retreating back. “I’m sorry. I never in a million years thought you’d actually show up.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I totaled—” With a cautionary scan of the emptying hallway, I dropped my voice to avoid prying ears. “I totaled your car and you said you needed a ride. What kind of person asks someone for a ride and then doesn’t even show up? I had to—”

  “Wow.” That little half-smile came out. “You’re cute as hell when you’re pissed.”

  “I’m not cute, Elijah. I’m just pissed. I got up an hour early to meet you and then almost got detention for being late because you never showed.”

  “An hour early? You must have really wanted to impress me.”

  “I did not—” His smile was blinding, frying my brain cells with its full wattage. “Stop grinning at me like some loon.”

  “What? Isn’t it nice to make people smile?”

  “Not like that.”

  “Like what?” He was doing it again—the grin, the dimples, the whole shebang—and I wasn’t sure my heart could take the added pressure.

  “Argh!” I threw my hands up in an aggravated huff and turned my back on him with every intention of storming out of there and maintaining what little dignity I had left. That is until I heard his chuckle and the sound of his feet moving to catch up.

  “Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll never smile at you again.”

  When I gathered the courage to actually look at him, he was wearing that damn poker face again. I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing.

  “Now, how’s that fair?” He mock pouted which only served to make me laugh harder. “I can’t smile at you, but you can laugh in my face?”

  “No—I didn’t—I’m sor—I’m sorry,” I panted trying to control the hysterics. I hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time.

  “Clearly, there’s only one solution to this.” Annnd the dimples were back.

  “What’s that?” My wary tone only made him smile brighter.

  “You need to go on a date with me.”

  “A . . . what?” On the list of things he might have said . . . Yeah, that wasn’t even on the list. At all.

  “A date. It’s this antiquated ritual where a guy usually has to pick the girl up, chauffer her around, open doors, and pay for crap. It’s a little sexist if you ask me, but I’m willing to endure it with you. But there are rules.”

  “Rules?”

  He nodded seriously.

  “To our date?”

  “Yes. First, no dressing up. I don’t do ‘dressing up’ and I can’t have you making me look bad. Second, you must have fun. No worrying about school, or grades, or starving children in Africa, or whatever the hell it is that has you looking like you’re sucking on a lemon half the time.”

  “I do not look—”

  “And third—and this is important, so pay attention—I’m allowed to smile at you as often as I like, and you are required to laugh more. I like the sound and I almost never get to hear it.”

  My heart didn’t just trip. It full-blown face planted in my chest.

  “Do we have a deal?”

  How the hell was I supposed to say no to that . . . while he’s grinning at me . . . with those damn dimples? “Okay.”

  “Okay. Friday night. I’ll see you at eight.”

  I stared after him as he strode down the hall and out the main doors before my brain managed to catch up. What just happened? Did Elijah Prince just ask me out? Did I say yes?

  Wait, did he say he likes the sound of my laugh?

  With an absurd grin, I followed, belatedly, out of the building toward the track.

  For five whole minutes, I didn’t think. I didn’t worry about what my friends would say, what my parents would think, about anything. Then, the panic set in. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

  I couldn’t go out with Elijah Prince. He was bad news and everyone knew it. His friends weren’t exactly . . . the cream of the crop. Hell, what would his friends say?

  This was bad. In so many ways. It was official. This could not happen. I’d just find him tomorrow and make my apologies. There. Plan set. Life stable once more, I could relax and focus on what was important.

  ***

  “Hey, sweetie.” Mom shut off the vacuum as I came through the front door and kicked it aside. “How was school?”

  “Fine.” Did I remember my textbook? Where are my notes from last week?

  “Just fine?”

  “It was great!” I responded with more enthusiasm than I really felt regarding just another day in high school. “Sorry, I’m a bit distracted.”

  “What has you so distracted you can’t tell your mother about your day?”

  “Just this test I have in chem tomorrow. It’s a big part of our grade and I’m not sure I’m ready.”

  “Then, you’d better get ready, Rylie Star.” I hated it when she used my middle name. Who names their kid Star, anyway? “Your entire future is riding on this year. How you do your senior year determines what colleges you get into. And the college you attend plays a huge role in future career prospects. With the job market what it is today—”

  “I know, Mom. So I’d better go study.”

  “Yes, you’d better. Would you like me to bring your dinner up so you don’t have to stop to eat?”

  “That would be great, Mom. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, honey. Now go exercise that brain of yours and someday you can hire someone to clean your house. And mine.”

  ***

  Letters were beginning to blur together on the page. Could the molecular compositional makeup of cells be any less stimulating? My eyes were about to bleed from exhaustion and/or boredom by the
time I finally closed the textbook sometime after midnight. If I didn’t know it by then, there wasn’t any more help to be had.

  The untouched meal of meatloaf with mashed potatoes and carrots sat precariously on the corner of my desk. I briefly considered taking it downstairs so my room wouldn’t end up infested by some kind of insects overnight, but dismissed the thought with a drawn out yawn. If it happened, I’d deal with it tomorrow. For tonight, brushing my teeth and changing were almost too much to think about.

  Chapter Five

  Early morning light filtered through the sheer curtains when the alarm blared in my ear interrupting what was becoming a pretty good dream starring . . . Oh, crap! Definitely time to get moving. Maybe if I got to school early I’d be able to talk to Elijah before class and get things straightened out.

  His car wasn’t in the lot when I arrived, but not many were. Then again, I wasn’t sure I’d be seeing his car again anytime soon. Or ever. I made a mental note to ask how the repairs were going and see if there was any way I could help.

  “Rylie.” I turned to find Coach Stabler hanging out of his office door. He was an extraordinarily tall man, bald, thin, with legs long enough to give him an unfair advantage—in my opinion—out on the track. He looked every inch the runner he was and inspired us all to be. “Can I talk with you for a minute?”

  “Umm . . .” I scanned the hallway, but there was no sign of Elijah. “Sure.”

  The chair let out a high pitched squeal when he dropped into it and flipped over a stack of graded algebra exams stacked on the corner of his desk. Like I gave a hoot what Joe Schmo got on his algebra test, but whatever.

  “What’s up?” I perched on the edge of my chair, anxious to get this over with so I could hunt down Elijah.

  “I spoke with your father.” Of course he had. Dad and Coach Stabler were practically BFFs since the day he realized I was the first decent runner the school had produced in generations. But decent wasn’t enough. They both wanted the same thing. They wanted something they could be proud of. Something they could hang on their wall and point at, and say, ‘I helped create that’. They deserved it. They both worked really hard and I wanted more than anything to be the one to give it to them. “Don’t get me wrong, you did well last weekend, but we think that some extra laps here and there might help. I can watch you run and give you some personalized advice. What do you say?”

  “Sounds great.” Extra laps. Like extra chocolate chip cookies . . . only not at all. Biting back a sigh, I plastered on a smile. He was trying to help and I was going to need it if I was ever going to break that national record. Get them the recognition they deserved. “When do we start?”

  “After school.”

  If I use my lunch period to study, and push the math assignment until tomorrow, and get up extra early . . . Yeah, sure, I can make it work.

  ***

  Why was it that Elijah had a tendency to show up in the most unexpected places, and yet when I was actually looking for him, he was nowhere to be found? It wasn’t until I was headed toward chemistry that I caught sight of him.

  “Hey, Elijah.”

  “Hey.” He grinned at me like we were old friends and that threw me for a minute. When had this—whatever this was—become normal?

  “Listen, I need to talk to you about Friday.”

  “Oh, that’s the other rule I forgot to mention.”

  “What other rule?”

  “I like surprises. So there’s no talking about our date allowed.”

  “But I really can’t—”

  “If you break the rules there are consequences.”

  “What kind of consequences?” And why did the sound of that make my tummy all fluttery?

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He winked at me—actually winked, and made it look good—and continued walking.

  “Wait, Elijah.” I scrambled to keep up with his long legged stride. Damn, he was tall. “I can’t go—”

  “Give me your phone.”

  “What?”

  “Your phone. I need to see it for a second.”

  Completely taken off-guard by his request—or demand—I lost all track of what I was doing. “We’re not supposed to—”

  “Have phones in school. I know. I also know that everyone does, anyway. Including you, Miss Perfect, so hand it over.”

  I scowled at him and starting rooting through my bag. “Why do you always—”

  “Finish your sentences?”

  I narrowed my eyes as my fingers closed around the contraband cell and his dimples came out to play.

  “Because you’re predictable.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Predictable? You kinda are. But we’re gonna work on changing that. Now, the phone.” He held out his hand and when I hesitated to give it to him, he added, “Or you’re going to be late.”

  Dammit. I did not have time for this. The halls were already beginning to clear and I needed a detention because of a tardy like I needed a bullet in the brain. I slapped the phone into his hand with more force than strictly necessary. He scrolled over the screen, chuckling as he mumbled something about ‘predictable’ that made my teeth grind in frustration. A moment later, some kind of obnoxious rock music blared from his pocket and he reached in to silence it without ever looking at it.

  He handed me back my phone and I stared up at him in confusion. “Did you just call yourself?”

  “Yep. Now I have your number. And you have mine.”

  Grin still plastered to his face, Elijah brushed past me into the classroom. What the hell just happened? I was supposed to cancel our date, not give him my phone number. Why did every conversation with him leave me off balance and thoroughly confused?

  ***

  “Pencils down.” Mr. Parson patrolled the front of the classroom like a hawk stalking prey.

  I took a deep breath and dropped my number two into the slotted holder at the top of the desk. I’d finished the test twenty minutes ago and spent the rest of that time checking and rechecking my answers in between covert peeks toward the back of the room where Elijah sat with his hands folded behind his head like he hadn’t a care in the world. What would it feel like to be that . . . relaxed? I hated classes that only had a few tests. It meant each one was that much more important.

  “Report cards will be issued this Friday, so I’ll have these graded and back to you by tomorrow.” My heart turned over in a violent spasm as Mr. Parson strolled by, scooping up tests.

  Tomorrow? It was probably best to just get it over with. I knew I’d done well, I was sure of it, but that didn’t stop the fine sheen of sweat from breaking out across my forehead, or my pulse from spiking. The importance of this—of everything I did—couldn’t be underestimated. Not if I wanted the future I had planned out. There was no room for error. I couldn’t accept anything less than perfection. And neither would my parents.

  “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

  “Huh?” I hadn’t even realized class had been dismissed and I’d moved on auto-pilot all the way to my locker. Or that Elijah had followed me. “Are you stalking me?”

  “Hardly. Are you feeling okay? You look a little . . . green around the gills?”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “I don’t really know, but you know what I mean. What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Something.”

  “Is talking to you always going to be like this?”

  “You mean witty and charming? Probably. Now answer the question.”

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine. Just a little nervous.”

  “About the test?”

  “About the grade.”

  “Relax. You’ll do fine. You always do. Besides, it wasn’t even all that difficult.”

  “Fine isn’t good enough. Wait. You thought that was easy?”

  He shrugged nonchalantly.

  “Did you even study?” I winced at my own abrasiveness, but Elijah didn’t seem
bothered in the least.

  “Not much. No.”

  “Then how could—?”

  “I retain information easily. All I have to do is listen and it sort of files itself away in my brain for later.”

  “Photographic memory? Are you serious?”

  “Not exactly. But close. I just . . . remember stuff.” I stared at him dumbfounded. My mouth may have even dropped open. How could the universe be so unfair? “I do have like the third highest GPA in our class.” Now I was certain my mouth had dropped open. How could I not have known that? “Don’t look so stunned. You’ll give me a complex.”

  “I . . .” I snapped my jaw shut. “I’m sorry. I just . . . I didn’t . . .”

  “Ever heard the saying, ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’?”

  He flashed me a grin and that zapped away the last of my lingering disbelief, replacing it with an abundance of aggravation. “Hardy-har-har.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Maybe you’ll get to learn a little more on Friday. I’m an oxymoron wrapped up in a conundrum.”

  “I’m not even sure that made sense.”

  “It did to me.” And he was gone. Again. Leaving me staring after him in a swirl of mind warping confusion. Again.

  Chapter Six

  I flipped the paper over and I must have died because I know my heart stopped beating. Zero. I scored a big, fat, red zero with a note scrawled across the top of the page that read, ‘See me after class.’ If there weren’t two of them in 100, I may not have even recognized the number. I’d certainly never received one as a grade before. Or been asked to stay after class.

  My eye caught Mr. Parson’s at the front of the room and an icy ball of nerves solidified in the pit of my stomach. He looked . . . pissed. What the hell did I ever do to him?

  I didn’t hear another word for the rest of class, my mind too wrapped up in what could have happened. It must be some kind of mistake. I’d just explain to Mr. Parson that whatever he was thinking to make him look at me like that must be wrong and everything would go back to normal. He’d add a one and another zero to my exam and I’d take it home to show my parents. Everything would be fine. It had to be.