by Jenni James
“Well, I’ll just have to find out who she is.”
I glanced up just as Kylie flipped her hair and folded her arms. The look on her face spoke volumes.
“Are you going to break them up or something?” I asked worriedly.
“First let’s see if they’re going out. I don’t want to do something drastic if I don’t have to.”
I lowered my eyes for a few seconds before smiling bravely. “So, do you think he’ll go for you? Do you think he likes you?”
“If he doesn’t, yet, I promise you, he will.”
I nodded my head. She’s right. I mean, what guy could resist Kylie Russell? What guy would want to?
“Can you believe it? Gregory’s a multimillionaire! And he’s moving here, of all places.” She laughed. “To think I thought this summer was going to be boring!”
I attempted a chuckle. This summer? This summer will most likely prove to be painful. Horrible. Awkward. But it won’t be boring.
Two: Reverse and Rewind
A week later, juggling my job as a peewee cheerleading coach, volunteering at the local library, and packing up, the summer still hadn’t proved to be any easier. In fact, I was busier than I’d ever been before. Friday afternoon, during an unexpected day off, I was trying to remember to pack my room, but instead I’d found myself thinking of Greg—I mean, Gregory—more than I should. It was the first real time I’d had a minute to focus on him at all, which wasn’t good.
In particular, most of my thoughts revolved and swirled around three and a half years ago. No matter how hard I told myself to think about something else, the day I had broken Greg’s heart wouldn’t leave me alone. I was haunted repeatedly by his lopsided grin when he had approached me at school—I was surrounded by my friends—and asked if he could talk to me for a few minutes.
“She can’t talk to you right now,” Kylie had sneered at him. “She has cheerleading practice, duh.”
“Oh, okay. Hey, I’ll come by after school then.” Greg nodded in my direction as I closed my locker in disbelief. “There’s something I’ve gotta say and I can’t . . . I was hoping—that is, there’s just something I have to tell you. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I would be really happy if you’d—I mean, I think we’d make—You know what? I’ll see ya later and tell you then. It’s not like two hours is going to make much of a difference anyway.”
Oh my gosh! He’s gonna ask me to go with him! I know it. Eek! “Okay, promise?”
“Yeah, I promise. I’ll be there.” Greg smiled.
“Come on, Amanda. We have to go now!”
Helpless, I had glanced back and saw the slightly confused look on Greg’s face when the other cheerleaders rudely dragged me away from him—the one guy I had seriously been crushing on the whole school year. So what if he wasn’t the typical high school jock my friends had been trying to throw at me for months? He made me laugh, and that right there was worth a thousand other guys.
If only I had hung onto that thought— if only I had reminded myself repeatedly to stay firm—I may have never landed in such a mess. But I didn’t remember how happy Greg made me feel, and I didn’t stay firm. It was hard to, especially with the combined efforts of the cheerleading squad—my friends—all of them determined to make me see reason.
“No, Amanda. You may think that you like him, but believe me, Greg What’s-His-Name is a nobody and he’s going nowhere. Seriously, why stop at the bottom when you could have the top?”
“Besides, he could totally ruin your chances to get Scott Mathews, who—hello!—has only been gawking at you for weeks now. If you get Scott, your future is set. His parents will even secure you a cheerleading scholarship for college, remember?”
“Yeah, and uh, honestly, none of us want to hang out with Greg anyway. So what are you trying to say—you’d rather have him than us?”
“Exactly! If you want to stay on this squad you have to remember one rule—we’re sisters here, and none of us will allow you to throw yourself away on a guy like Greg.”
“Eww! It just grosses me out even thinking about you and him. Girl, you have got to step back and see what we see, okay? If you could see the situation like we can, you would run the other way.”
Their words were so rushed and loud I didn’t even get a chance to defend myself or Greg, had I wanted to.
That whole cheerleading practice was a blur. My head was a combination of crazy jumbles and pressure points. One thing was for certain. By the end of the two hours I had made up my mind. I would tell Greg no.
Later that day, when he came bounding up the steps of my house, I went out front to meet him. No reason to let my stepsister see him. She had never liked that we were friends and was constantly making snide comments under her breath.
Greg got right to the point—he asked me to be his girlfriend. With the strength of my friends’ comments buzzing in my head, it was easy to reject him. I did it politely, very controlled, very matter of fact. The whole thing was over in less than thirty seconds. It was as I was turning to go, however, that Greg Wentworth—and the hold he held over my heart—prevailed.
“That’s a load of crap, Amanda, and you know it!”
What in the—? I turned back around to meet his frustrated stare. “Excuse me?”
“Excuse you? Excuse you? Why, so you can go call your friends and share the happy news with them—the news that you won’t be going out with me after all?”
“My friends?”
“Yes, Amanda. Your friends.” He walked right up to me, and I had never seen him so angry before. “Your cheerleading buddies, the same group of girls who just now convinced you that you didn’t love me.”
“My friends had nothing to do—”
“Want to make a bet?” Greg interrupted. “You and I both know they did, Amanda! You know you love me.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yes, you fetchin’ do!”
“Fetchin’?” I couldn’t help myself, I smiled. Dang. Greg always made me smile.
He glanced down at that smile. “You don’t even care, do you? Well, you know what, I would sit here and argue with you, but that would be pretty lame, wouldn’t it? I mean, what guy has to come and beg a girl to go out with him—only a loser, right? Is that what you think of me? Am I some loser?”
“Greg—”
“No, Amanda. You’ve had your turn. This is mine. I have loved you since the very first time I saw you. The very first time, when you stopped and helped that girl pick up her papers that were everywhere. I’d never seen such an awesome thing before—a cheerleader in uniform helping someone else. Right then I knew you were special, even if you were younger than me. So I went out of my way to get to know you. For the past seven months I have dug and pried into your personal life and helped you through all of it. You’re different from the other girls because you’re nice. You care about people, even when no one cares about you.”
I was shocked, and my eyes flew to his. I would’ve argued, but I had a strange suspicion he might be right. How many people had never seen the freshman Amanda, or thought of me before Greg? If Greg hadn’t built up my confidence I would’ve never attracted the notice of Scott Matthews.
Greg closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face. In the silence, he looked down at the patio and shook his head before bringing his dark eyes to lock with mine. “Well, I guess that settles it. You’ve made your choice, haven’t you? I guess that means I walk away, right?”
No! Don’t leave. I thought, but was too frozen to speak. Greg took two steps closer until we were almost touching. Oh my gosh. I love him.
Slowly he brought his hand up and gently ran his fingers through my long brown hair. A tingly warmth danced its way up to my scalp and zinged down my spine. I gasped at how the simple contact riled my senses so easily. He moved again and our feet touched. It was the closest I’d ever been to him. I willed my heart to slow down, but it began to race at warp speed when his other hand slowly trailed from my shoulder up my neck,
to cradle my jaw.
“I love you, Amanda. I would love to kiss you more than anything right now. I’ve waited seven months to touch your—”
My eyes fluttered closed as I felt his thumb trace just below my bottom lip. All at once, I didn’t care what anyone else thought. I wanted Greg Wentworth to kiss me, and I wanted to be his girlfriend. I felt his lips softly graze my cheek.
“Goodbye, Amanda.”
My lashes flew open, and for a moment I saw raw agony in his eyes. He concealed nothing from me. Instantly, my heart leaped into my throat, making it impossible to breathe. “Y–you’re hurt. Greg, I’ve—”
“Yes, I’m hurt, Amanda. You’ve hurt me. What, didn’t you think I would be hurt when you rejected me?”
Oh my gosh! What have I done? How could I be so stupid? “I . . . I . . .” I shook my head to stop the rising tears.
Greg must’ve taken that as a sign to leave, because in the next instant he had stepped back from me. “Take care.”
I watched in growing horror as he ran down the steps of the porch. Oh no! He’s really leaving! I didn’t tell him I love him. “Greg!” He didn’t turn back. “Greg!”
“Amanda!”
I jumped at the sound of my stepsister’s voice behind me, jolting me back to reality and the present. Dazed, I looked around the room and took stock of what still had to be packed. There was a lot.
“Amanda! What are you doing? We have to pack. Hurry up already.”
I smiled and tried to answer Sydney rationally. “I am packing.” I placed the picture of my mom, now wrapped in tissue paper, in a box that held a growing collection of memorabilia. “Do you need help with something?”
“Of course not.” Sydney walked into my room and made a face at some of my knickknacks on a shelf above my dresser. “You keep the oddest stuff. Really, Amanda, who would keep this junk around? When did you get this?” She held up a cute ceramic pig. “When you were five? Six?”
“Seven.” I wrapped a porcelain doll in a pillowcase and placed her gently in the box. “Please be careful. Just because you aren’t sentimental doesn’t mean it’s a crime if other people are.”
Sydney snorted and rolled her eyes. “You think it’s not a crime. You’re not one of the movers who have to lift these.” She waved her hand at the boxes scattered around my floor, before she unceremoniously plopped onto my bed.
What does she want? She never came into my room unless she wanted something, and even then she rarely sat on my bed to ask for it. I watched her warily as I wrapped another doll with a pillowcase. Sydney was just four months older than me and the most beautiful person I’d ever known. Unfortunately, she knew she was beautiful. Well, I guess I would know I was beautiful too if I had a collection of beauty-pageant and school-dance tiaras to pack. I wrapped two more picture frames while she pulled out a compact mirror from her pocket and applied another coat of lipgloss to her already glossy lips.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Huh?” Her practiced, pretty pout always worked with my dad and her mom, but I wasn’t charmed. “Why do you think I want something?”
“Uh, you’re on my bed.”
She smiled. I didn’t know how anyone could smile with so much goop on her lips and still look glamorous. “I just came in to chat. Can’t I chat with you?”
“Umph,” I replied noncommittally while I started to place my yearbooks in an empty box near my desk. “What do you want to chat about?”
“Nothing much.”
“Which means a whole lot.” I placed my collection of classic books into the box, too. “Come on, out with it.”
“Fine. Since you’re going to be that way, I won’t stay in here and try to bond with you first.”
I glanced up at her—she looked just as miffed as she sounded. I tried to be a little nicer. “Talking to me is bonding.”
She cut to the chase. “Gregory Wentworth. What do you know about him? I heard he showed up at Kylie’s party.”
“Yeah, it’s true. He was there,” I hedged.
“So is he the same one?”
Great. She would be the one person who remembered him. I tried to sound bored and confused at the same time. “Same one?”
She smiled her pageant smile, and I noticed she tried hard not to grit her teeth. Sydney was never patient. “Greg.” She took a deep breath as if to calm herself. “The little dork that used to follow you around everywhere when we were freshmen. Is he the same Gregory Wentworth everyone in this city is salivating over now?”
“Yes.”
“I knew it!” Sydney flung herself off the bed and glared at me. “Get packing now. We’ll be out of this house before I ever lay eyes on him or his family. How humiliating! First we have to move out of this amazing place, but then to actually give it to them. It’s disgusting. I would rather die than ever see Greg Wentworth’s face again!”
Fortunately for me, she stormed out of the room before I had to hear anymore. This time I walked over and locked my bedroom door.
I’d never wanted to see him again, either. No, that wasn’t true. I’d wished, hoped, and prayed, but never thought it would happen. I couldn’t believe how much I cried when his family moved away. It was so sudden. No one—not even Greg—knew they were moving until the last minute. That was the worst. I knew I’d made a mistake, but it was my own tears that stopped me from going to him and apologizing then. I’d wanted to look pretty when I did, not haggard and red-eyed. So in my foolishness I didn’t run after Greg. Little did I know it would be the last day I’d see him.
His father had received a phone call and accepted a job in Phoenix while Greg was at my house asking me out. The company was so desperate to have Mr. Wentworth in Arizona immediately that they paid extra for the movers to come the very next day. Mrs. Johnson, the Wentworth’s neighbor, had told me that Greg’s house was so small it had only taken half a day to pack everything. On Sunday, I’d gone by to apologize, but I was too late. Greg’s family had left that morning. My final memory of him was of his bitterness, anger, and hurt toward me.
Ruefully, I smiled to myself. Imagine, being worried about what I looked like! I probably looked better then with my blotchy, red face than I do now. I lost Greg because I couldn’t persuade myself to go to him when I looked a mess. No, it was before that. All of my heartaches and troubles started before that, when I was persuaded to listen to my friends. I can’t believe I actually doubted that I loved him! I loved him then just as much as I do now.
Afterwards, none of my so-called friends could convince me otherwise. They all tried. Many of them told me how much better off I was without him. They couldn’t understand why he could matter to me if he didn’t matter to them.
Why should he matter to me? I wondered. Why? Because for the first and only time in my life I’d felt like someone really understood me. For the first time in my life I could be myself around someone, and he loved me for who I was. There wasn’t a day three years ago that Greg didn’t make me laugh out loud. He was so funny and kind and caring. And he loved me. Three years ago I knew him as well as I knew myself.
A knock on my door broke into my musings.
“Yeah?” I answered.
“Amanda? Can I come in?” My stepmom’s animated voice vibrated through the door.
“Just a sec.” I pushed a couple of boxes out of the way as I headed to the door. “Hi.”
I opened the door wide. Veronica’s black high-heeled pumps sank into the plush carpet as she sauntered in. She had on a bright yellow form-fitting dress with a wide black belt. Her beautifully made-up face frowned in disapproval at the mess littered about my room. Thankfully, she kept silent about it. After surveying the damage, she turned to me and took in my oversized T-shirt and jeans. I could tell she wasn’t very happy. I fidgeted a bit under her long-lashed gaze. I decided to take the focus off myself.
“You look really pretty, Veronica.”
She simpered just like I knew she would. “Really? It’s a size 5. Can you beli
eve it? A size 5. It must be from all the stress of this move. I know it’s a little much to pack in, but I couldn’t resist putting it on so Roger could see. I love it when I achieve a goal. Don’t you?” Her smile glowed as she flipped her dark hair over one shoulder.
“Yeah. It’s the best feeling ever. I’m really happy for you.” I smiled back. I was happy. Veronica may not be my ideal person to hang out with, but she made my dad really happy. They were an amazingly striking couple. They both looked like they were in their thirties instead of their fifties. Veronica always claimed her beauty came from her Latin roots.
“Well, dear, I’m here to tell you that we’re expecting company later,” she said, interrupting my thoughts.
“Company?”
“Yes. And I’d want you to dress in something pretty, okay? The Wentworths would like to take a final tour around the house to make it easier for them to place their furniture when they move in.”
“What?”
“And Charles and Suzanne have graciously offered to take us all out to dinner at The Lion’s Den afterward.”
“The Lion’s Den?” It was only the most expensive restaurant in town. “All of us?”
My stepmom stopped a moment and looked at me funny. “Yes, dear. All of us. They’re millionaires, so they can afford it.”
I started to panic. “Is their whole family coming, or is it just the parents?”
“I assume it’s the whole family, but it doesn’t matter, because they have invited us all. This may be our last chance at eating there for a long time. And no, you’re not getting out of it, so don’t even ask.”
I blushed. “I’m really not feeling that good today. I mean, I have a headache, and I’m a bit sore, and . . . ”
“Amanda Marie Ellis”—she pointed her finger right at me—“you will behave and you will put on some pretty clothes, and you are going tonight.”
“Fine.”
Her work done, Veronica walked to the door. “Thank you.” She turned and smiled her I’m-so-pleased-with-you smile. “Try and be ready in about an hour, okay?”
