by Jenni James
An hour? I glanced at the clock. It was 4:00. Where had the time gone? “Okay. Have you told Sydney yet?”
“No. I’m going to her room right now.”
She’ll be thrilled with the Wentworths coming over. I grinned to myself. It was evil, I know, but I couldn’t help it. “Well, thanks for letting me know.”
“Bye.”
I watched my stepmom shut the door before I glanced around my room and saw it with fresh eyes. It was a mess. I better hurry and clean it up in case they want to come in, I thought frantically.
Later, when the doorbell rang, I was surprised to see Sydney join the family to welcome the Wentworths, especially considering the fit she’d thrown earlier. Veronica gave us all a once-over to made sure we were decent before she nodded for my dad to open the door.
Gregory had come.
Three: Justice Is Served
My heart stopped the second he walked through the front door. The exact second. He looked unbelievable. As earlier, his eyes briefly met mine before looking past me. I still couldn’t look away from him. Gregory’s here. In my house. He’s here. In my house. He’s here. Ack! Breathe.
Forcing a huge gulp of air into my lungs really hurt, and with an involuntary jerk and spasm, I began to cough. Loudly. If I was trying to get Gregory’s attention again, it worked. I stood in the center of the entranceway, hacking up a lung, as his mom and dad walked around me.
“Are you all right?” Gregory’s deep voice near my ear caused me to gasp and cough some more.
“S–sure,” I wheezed. “I’m” —cough, hack— “f–fine” —hack, cough—“th–thanks!”
“Good grief, Amanda!” hissed Sydney in my other ear. “Go get some water or something. You’re completely freaking everyone out.” She turned me around by the shoulders and steered me toward the kitchen, then shoved me into the adjoining room to find the way on my own. That was just fine with me. I wanted to be anywhere than where I was, and the faster the better.
Except, I wasn’t fast enough. Just as I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I heard Sydney laugh and introduce herself. “Well, hello. You’re Gregory, right? Do you remember me?”
I’d know that laugh anywhere. It was her “I think he’s hot and he’s mine” laugh. Sydney crushing on Gregory? My Greg, the guy she hated. Could this get any worse?
After I successfully gulped down two glasses of water, I could hear Sydney and Gregory making their way into the kitchen area. He was talking.
“. . . I don’t care. I’ve never seen your whole house before. What’s your favorite place? Take me there first.”
Sydney laughed that shrill laugh again. “Follow me.”
Warily, I watched as they walked past, never once looking my way, through the kitchen and out the back door. For a moment I hesitated, wondering if I should follow them or follow my parents. I opted to do neither. Instead, I wandered into the dining room. I found a couple of my stepmom’s beauty magazines, surrounded by boxes, on the table. With a shrug, I selected the most promising one, then took it to the library. There I plopped myself down on the overstuffed chair—the only seat in the study that didn’t have a box on it—swiveled it around to face the wall, and proceeded to read.
It was after the fifth dramatic, artsy ad I’d seen for purses that I overheard Sydney and Gregory again. It sounded like they were coming into the room. I sank lower in my chair and froze. Please don’t find me.
“Wow, look at all the bookshelves. This room does hold a lot of books, doesn’t it?” Gregory’s voice caused my heart to thump. “Do you like to read?”
Anyone else would’ve missed the curious tone in his casual voice, but I didn’t. Gregory really wanted to know the answer to that question. I wondered how Sydney would reply.
She laughed. “Read? I wish. I never have time to read. No, the only one of us who has spare time is Amanda. She’s always in here.”
“Oh. So, she spends a lot of time in here, then?”
“Amanda? Yes! Too much time. Of course when you don’t go on dates, I guess you have time to shut yourself away.” There was a pause before Sydney slyly asked, “So you used to hang out with Amanda, right?”
“Uh—yeah.”
“What do you think of her? I mean, do you think she’s changed at all?”
What is she doing? Dang, Sydney, just drop it. My hands turned cold and lifeless as I waited for the answer I knew he would give.
“Amanda? You mean, do I think she looks different?”
I could almost feel the smile on Sydney’s face. “Yes. Do you think she looks different?”
Why? Why does she do this? My breathing came in short, silent gasps.
And then Gregory answered—brutally, horribly, and honestly. “Yeah, she looks a lot different. She’s changed so much I almost didn’t recognize her.”
My heart shattered around my feet at Sydney’s answering snicker. It was her favorite question to ask people or relatives who hadn’t seen us for a while. I guess I should be grateful she didn’t ask him in front of me like she did with other people. What did I expect anyway? I know Gregory isn’t blind.
“Come on,” Sydney said, sounding way too excited. “You’ve gotta see the theater room.”
“No way. You guys have one of those rooms set up just for movies?”
“Yeah, it’s in the basement. You’ll love it.”
Slowly I uncurled my fingers from around the crumpled pages of the magazine. Even the pretty face of the supermodel scorned me from the safety of her ad. In disgust I tossed the publication aside and stood up. I straightened my fashionable shirt before walking over to the full-length mirror—an item my parents insisted was in every room in the house—to assess the damage.
My hair was boring brown. My face lacked anything striking or memorable. There was nothing exciting about my figure. All in all, I was surprised people actually noticed me enough to talk to me. Everything seemed wrong. Everything.
“Well, here’s the downstairs again.” My stepmom’s voice was full of enthusiasm.
For the rest of the tour, I decided to hightail it out of the house and hang out in the backyard. Which wasn’t so bad, when you considered I had the fish in the koi pond to talk to until it was time to go.
It was peaceful for a little while until I heard, “There you are, Amanda!”
I looked up to see my stepsister coming toward me, looking upset. I must’ve been out there longer than I thought. I quickly sat up on the concrete bench.
“What are you doing? Have you lost your mind? The Wentworths are waiting for us!” Sydney stopped about ten feet from me.
“They are?” I asked stupidly.
“No, I’m out here for my health. Come on!” With an angry flounce she began to march back to the house.
I followed behind slowly.
Sydney was still venting. “I swear! You knew we were supposed to be going with them. Don’t you know it’s rude to make people wait for you?”
Twice tonight I felt his eyes on me. Twice, I knew he was watching me intently. I’m not sure why, but it was enough to keep his interest for several seconds. There were three times when our eyes met. And once we held for a moment before I looked away. The only time he studiously avoided me, the only time I could tell he wished to be anywhere than at that table so near me, was when he answered our parents’ teasing remarks. The awkwardness and tension in those moments nearly gave me a heart attack.
“So, Gregory, I hear you are here for the summer to help your father. Are you planning on going on any dates soon?” my dad asked with a subtle wink at Sydney.
His mom was quick to join in. “Come on, Gregory, you have to tell us. There sure are tons of pretty girls in this city. You could find one to fall in love with. Don’t you think, dear?” She turned to her husband. “Out of all of Farmington, there has to be a girl he notices.”
Gregory’s jaw clenched before he smiled a half smile and let out a forced, short laugh. He didn’t speak, but shook his head slightly in r
esponse.
My stepmom chuckled. “Don’t sell yourself short, Gregory. You’re really cute, you know. It’s all the Farmington girls are talking about. I’m sure there are plenty of them that would love to go out with you. So, what do you look for in a girl? Let us find someone for you.”
“Yes. That’s perfect,” exclaimed his mom. “What’s your type?”
Even Sydney added her two cents. “Yeah, tell us.”
Gregory laughed, and to anyone who didn’t know him, he probably sounded amused. As a matter of fact, his easygoing mannerisms belied the pains he took to glance at everyone except me when he answered, “You’re not going to leave me alone until I do, are you?”
“No.” His mom grinned at him.
Gregory chuckled again and raised his hands in mock surrender. “All right! I’m not picky, I promise. Look, all I want in a girl is someone who doesn’t change her mind easily. I want a girl who is independent. Someone who won’t be persuaded how to think of me by her friends. If I can find a girl who can make the decision to love me and stick with it, then she’s mine.”
“Wow. That’s pretty deep,” my dad said. “You’re sure you don’t want a girl who makes you laugh? Or likes baseball or something?”
Gregory shook his head. “Nope. I’m pretty positive about what I want in a girl. I’ve had a few years to think about it. And I’ve decided that’s the best quality a girl can have. Someone who stands up for what she believes in, no matter what her friends say at the time. The rest is just bonus.”
My hand had begun to shake so hard my goblet clinked noisily on the plate when I tried to set it back on the table. Instantly, I watched every set of eyes except one turn in my direction. Gregory kept his gaze averted to the table across from us. I stood up. I had to leave. With a murmured “Excuse me,” I fled to the safety of the restaurant bathrooms.
Once in the ladies’ restroom, I moved past a couple of women chatting near the doorway and walked around the fancy stalls to an excluded spot for women who wished to nurse their infants, or rest a moment. The area was vacant. Gratefully, I sank into one of the lavish plum- and gold-colored settees. For a moment I held my trembling hands together and attempted to suppress my emotions.
Okay, okay, okay. I need to stop stressing out. My life is not over just because Greg has moved on. Sure, the chance to see him again and be with him again has only been my biggest wish for the last three years, but it’s time to get over that. I know he must hate me. The best thing I can hope for is that I can be his friend. Or maybe I can help him find a perfect girl to be with.
See? Now that’s an idea, right? I quickly wiped a tear off my cheek and forced myself to accept the situation. Right? Just think, there are a ton of girls who could use Greg—I mean Gregory—in their lives. He can build their self-confidence and love and cherish them and make them feel like they are actually worth something. Everyone needs to feel loved and beautiful. Helping girls feel that way is what Gregory does best. There are hundreds right here in Farmington who’d even treat him good. They’d treat him better than I did and actually deserve him. I had my chance, and it’s pointless to hope for another one. The best I can do is help him find someone who will never hurt him.
There. That’s the plan, got it? I’m going to head out of here and smile and think of ways to help Gregory Wentworth find the girl of his dreams. And under no circumstances am I going to cry when he does—even if he chooses Sydney.
After taking a deep breath, I walked over to the sink and put some cold water in my palm. I smoothed it on the back of my neck and felt the tension ease a bit. I glanced in the mirror and splashed a couple of drops of water on my tense features. Then I quickly grabbed some paper towels and blotted myself dry before tossing them in the trash can. I pasted on a smile, hurried out of the restroom, and ran straight into Gregory’s hard chest. Instinctively his arms wrapped around me to keep me from falling.
Four: Heart Attack
“Oh! Sorry.” Shocked, I stepped away from him and stared up at his face. We were all alone in the little foyer that separated the men’s and the women’s restrooms.
“I—uh, are you all right?” Gregory’s eyes searched mine.
My heart began to race. “Y–yes.” I managed a weak smile. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Did I hurt you just now?”
“H–hurt me? No.”
“You’re sure?”
I smiled. “Yes, I’m sure. Thank you, I—”
“Excuse me.” He nodded and walked into the men’s restroom.
Oh. He left.
It wasn’t until I sat down at the table that I realized he probably didn’t want to be seen with me when I returned.
The rest of the night went as well as could be expected. Dinner was delicious, the company was polite, and the conversation was free of awkwardness.
Later however, in my room, I replayed that scene in the foyer over and over again as I attempted to make more out of it than there was. But as many times as I tried to replay those brief words to my advantage, my mind always wandered to the smiles Gregory gave my stepsister. And more importantly the arm that was wrapped around her shoulders during the dessert course.
It was a hopeless cause, and one I would have to learn to be grateful for.
“Come on! You have to say you’ll come with us!” Kylie pleaded over the phone.
“Kylie, four-wheeling is not my thing. Plus I’m not sure if I have to work yet or not.” The game my little cheerleading squad was performing at looked like it’d be cancelled, thanks to the other team getting hit hard with some sort of summer flu. I was still waiting for the official call that said if we were cheering or not.
“You are the weirdest girl, seriously. I’m not sure why I even bother. It’s just a little tour of Farmington.” Kylie laughed. “Besides, can’t you call in sick?”
“A tour? When do we have four-wheeling tours here in Farmington?”
“Ever since Carson Franklin started up his own business last week. We’re his first big group.”
I vaguely remembered the Franklin brothers. Carson was a year or two older than Ethan, Farmington’s four-wheeling champ. Ethan had graduated this year, and Carson had graduated a couple years before that. Not only were they the best drivers Farmington had ever seen—thanks to their dad teaching them everything he knew—their vehicles were constantly featured in sporting magazines worldwide.
“Wow! That’s really cool that Carson got his business license. I bet he’s pretty excited right now.”
“Are you kidding? He’s totally stoked! Everyone knows he’s going to be a huge hit. Come on, with as many awards as that guy has, who wouldn’t want to ride with him? You have to come. We’re gonna have a picnic and everything.”
Picnic? Darn, I love picnics. “Well, who’s all going?” Perhaps the team will cancel after all.
“I’m not sure, but as of right now I think it’s the new guy, Gregory . . .” As soon as Kylie said his name, I blanked out everyone else’s.
Gregory will be there. Yes, Gregory will be there! Ack! Wait. I don’t know if I want Gregory to be there. I didn’t realize Kylie had stopped talking until it was too late. I tried to cover the pause. “Uh—wow! That’s a big group. Are you sure there’s room for me?”
“There’s just nine of us.”
“Yeah, but how are we all going to fit?”
“Amanda, ugh. Stop worrying about everything. Carson totally owns a Land Rover with twelve seats now.”
“Twelve seats? Is there something that big that can take us all off road?”
“So are you coming or what?”
“Uh . . .” I stalled.
“Come on and say you’ll come, okay?” Kylie said, now using her whiny voice. “Everyone’s going to be there, and I don’t want to go without you. Please? Please, please, please, please?”
“All right, fine. I’ll call and see if my junior cheerleaders have a game—if not, then I’ll go.”
“Thank you. I’m going to
let everyone know. I’ll be there at 3:00 to pick you up since Sydney is riding with Gregory. Make sure you’re wearing stuff to hike in, in case we have to.”
“But Kylie, wait—”
“Bye!” I heard her laugh as she hung up the phone.
Great. What in the world have I gotten myself into? Four-wheeling with Gregory and Sydney—I don’t think I’m ready for it. Please let there be a game. Please, oh please, let there be a game.
There wasn’t. As soon as I hung up the phone, a text came in from Lacey, the head coach, saying the game had been cancelled. Resigned to my fate, I dug out my tennis shoes from the box I’d already packed. Then I grabbed a book to read while I waited for Kylie to pick me up, since I knew there was no way she’d let me say no now.
That’s how it had always been with Kylie and me. She could talk me into anything, and she knew it. We were so different that sometimes I wondered why we were friends. Of course, since her mom and my stepmom were friends in high school, it just was one of those things that happened. Kylie was the same age as Sydney and me. The only problem was Sydney never shared her stuff when we were little and I always did, so Kylie naturally hung out with me more.
I sighed as I flipped the page to a new chapter. Then I glanced at my watch—2:45. I had better get downstairs and let Veronica know where I was going. At least she’d be happy Sydney and I were spending quality time together.
When we arrived, a guy was standing near the fence, talking on his cell phone.
“That’s Carson,” stated Kylie as she drove past.
That’s Carson? I looked again and really noticed him this time. He was cute. He waved toward our car and smiled, a friendly, easygoing grin that lit up his tan features.
We parked and stepped out of the car, and I was drawn to him again. At this angle with his back toward us, I admired the way his bright red shirt stretched across his shoulders and fell slightly over his khaki cargo shorts. His right foot was resting on a concrete parking median near the fence, and his left hand was fiddling with the chain links. For a moment I just stood there and watched him talk on his cell. After a few more seconds, he turned and rested his shoulder against the fence. His profile lit up as he laughed again and removed his dark army green hat to reveal short-cropped blond hair. Carson paused a few seconds and then chuckled into the phone while he rubbed his hand briefly over his hair—spiking it every which way—before setting his cap back on. His pink wristband caught my attention as he lowered his free hand and rested it in his pocket.
