"What?" I looked at him with the most utterly disgraceful look of confusion, and then I turned back to the locker handle that I was holding between my fingers. He was right. I was one locker off. In my nervous and excited state, I had actually gone to the wrong locker! And failed at opening it! Twice!
Humiliation swept over my body as I let my head fall against the locker that wasn't mine. "It's been a long day," I muttered mostly to myself-not thinking that Trace really even cared. I was amazed to find him still standing next to me when I finally lifted my head again.
"All the lockers look exactly the same." He was smiling and leaning casually against his locker as he spoke. "I went to the wrong locker about five times during my first couple weeks here."
I couldn't believe what was happening. Besides the one moment in the hall when he teased me about the German video, we had never said a word to each other-not ever. "Yeah, you'd think they'd paint them different colors or something," I answered hesitantly. I kept waiting for him to decide that I was boring or annoying and walk off down the hall.
"Or write our names on them at least." He chuckled at his joke, and I thought he looked cuter than he ever had before.
"I would need mine in big flashing letters," I added.
"Maybe a neon sign. Or an audible voice recorder calling your name." He cupped his hands around his mouth and pretended to talk through a speaker, "Gemma Mitchell, your locker is right here. No, you're at the wrong locker, Gemma. This is your locker; the bright purple one with the neon sign!"
I didn't know what surprised me more; the fact that he was so funny, or that he knew my full name. Wasn't this the same guy that rejected me at last year's Valentine's dance? The same guy who had said two words to me during an entire year of German together? Why was he now suddenly deciding to acknowledge my existence?
"I liked your movie in German class a while back."
"Oh, thanks." I blushed. "It was Drew that made it so great."
"I don't know. You have some pretty wicked dance moves." He snapped his fingers and pretended to dance in a retro style. "And that dress was awesome. It must have cost you a fortune."
"It was my mom's!" I shouted. "I swear! I didn't buy that ugly thing!" I felt myself actually feeling at ease around him. I couldn't believe how natural it felt to laugh and joke around with Trace Weston. I opened the locker that was mine and got out what I needed while Trace asked me how long I had lived in Franklin.
"Forever." I pulled my backpack over my shoulders, and we started walking down the hall. "I was born here. How about you?" As if I didn't know.
"We moved here a year and a half ago from Michigan. My dad got transferred here for his job." We were walking down the main hall now toward the front doors of the school. I felt curious eyes on us as we passed. Trace continued, "We thought we were going to move back to Michigan this summer. We were all packed up and everything. But the day before school started, my dad got a call that we were staying here for another year."
"Hence, the eighth-grade hall locker." I gave him a humorous glance from the corner of my eye.
"Yeah, I guess." He cocked his head to the side. "What's your excuse?"
"Oh, I requested it," I joked. "I get along better with people who are shorter than me. It makes me feel better about myself."
Trace looked confused, so I quickly told him the truth. "No, my family is always in Cape Cod during registration So every year I get the locker that nobody else wants."
"What about your seventh grade year? Where did they put you then?"
"Back in the elementary," I joked. Trace's eyes sparkled at my humor. "It was so weird being back there sharing a cubby hole with a sixth grader."
Trace shook his head as he opened the front door of the school and waved for me to pass through in front of him.
As soon as we got outside, Trace squinted his eyes toward the line of buses. "My bus is here." He almost sounded disappointed. Then he looked back down at me. "It was nice talking with you, though. I hadn't seen you at the lockers for so long that I thought you had changed yours or something."
He had noticed that I wasn't there. "But you see me every day in German class. Why don't you ever talk to me?"
Trace lifted his hands in defense, "Why don't you ever talk to me?"
Um, hello? Do the words last dance ring a bell? But I was too embarrassed to say that out loud. So I said, "I think I thought you were too popular for me to talk to."
He grunted, "I'm not popular. I'm the dorky new kid that no one talks to."
"But everybody talks about you. Everybody thinks you're so cute and the dancer girls all call you `Tray' like you're their prized poodle or something!"
Trace gripped his notebook. "The kid that everyone talks about but no one talks to." Then he shrugged. "I'd rather be the kid that nobody talks about but a few people talk to."
He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, waiting for me to reply, but something else had caught my attention. It was Drew and Carmen. They were sitting on the grass by the carpool pick-up lane. They were watching us so intently that they seemingly had no plans of averting their gaze even after I made eye contact with them.
"What are you looking at?" Trace asked as he turned around to follow my eyes. Only then did Drew and Carmen turn their heads away from us. Trace looked back at me with a concerned expression. "What's going on with you and Drew? I thought you guys were good friends."
"Were being the operative word," I replied dryly.
"What happened?"
"I don't know. I... "
"Oh, no. My bus is leaving!" Trace cut me off mid-sentence. "I'm sorry. I really want to talk to you more." He looked toward his bus then back at me. "Do you want to hang out this weekend or something?"
The same tornado of butterflies that had invaded my stomach at the lockers was back. Hang out? With Trace Weston? I was excited and absolutely terrified at the same time. "Uh," I stuttered, "sure. Yeah. That would be fun."
Trace looked at my face as though he were trying to figure out what that meant. But he was in too big of a hurry to analyze it. "Okay," he replied. "I'll get your cell number tomorrow, and then I'll text you or something."
I nodded nervously. The world was spinning around my head.
"I better go."
I nodded stupidly again, and he ran off to catch his bus. What had just happened? I had never ever hung out with a guy before. Not a guy that wasn't Jess. And my first time was going to be with Trace Weston? I had to do something. I had to tell someone. I grabbed hold of my backpack straps and ran toward home.
"Hey," she said in a low tone.
I didn't look at her. I just stared deeply at my assignment.
"Hey," she repeated. I could tell from the corner of my eye that she was staring at me with those dark, piercing eyes.
I finally decided that I had to say something. But I was still angry and hurt, and I wanted to punish her. "What?" I mumbled, still looking at the paper in front of me.
"Are we seriously going to stay mad at each other forever?"
I looked at her in shock. "You are the one that didn't want to be friends with me!"
"I know." She dropped her head for a moment. "I really do feel bad about that."
"Are you kidding me, Drew?" I couldn't believe I was saying this, but I was so mad at her, I couldn't hold it in.
"What?" Her eyes were wide and confused.
"You are so obvious! You saw me talking to Trace yesterday, and now you want to be my friend again!"
"That's not it."
I had to give her credit; she was either a really good actor, or she was genuinely hurt by the accusation. "Then why? Why are you suddenly so keen on being friends with me?"
Drew pulled at the piece of gum in her mouth as she gathered her words. "I made a mistake. I'm sorry."
I waited for her to say more. That wasn't enough for me to just drop everything and become friends with her again.
She let go of her gum and leaned forward with her elbows on
her knees. "Look, I felt so stupid after the party. I felt stupid that I got you in trouble. I felt stupid that my brother and his friends brought alcohol. I felt stupid that Jess found out, and I'm sure he hates me now. And I don't know, I just-"
"You thought you'd feel better if you ditched me."
She sat back with a sad expression. "It didn't work."
"Girls!" Frau Fart's voice pierced through our conversation. "If you don't have any homework to do right now, I can certainly assign you more."
Drew didn't even look at Frau Fart, but she ducked her head toward me and said, "Friends?"
I didn't have much time to think about it, so I went with what came naturally. "Sure, I guess." I took a quick look at Frau Fart before turning back to my homework.
Drew got up to go back to her desk but then turned back to me in the last second.
"What are you doing this weekend?" she whispered.
I thought about Trace. Did she already know what I was doing that weekend?
When I didn't respond, she continued, "Will you come to my house on Friday? I'm inviting a few people to play games and stuff."
"I'm not sure. I toldTrace I'd hang out with him this weekend."
I studied her reaction carefully. Her eyebrows shot up, and she genuinely looked surprised. "You're hanging out with Trace? Are you two like ... going out?"
I was thrown off by her distressed expression. She was so vulnerable when it came to Trace. "No, we're just friends." I have no idea why I said the next part: "Do you want me to invite him to your house?"
Drew looked skeptical and hopeful at the same time. "You don't have to do that. That's not why... "
I cut her off again, "It's okay, really. I can invite him." I was terrified of being alone with Trace that weekend. The idea of having other people around made the whole situation seem a thousand times less daunting.
She shrugged her shoulders. "If you want to. Does that mean you're coming?"
"Yeah, I'll come."
"Girls!" Frau Fart yelled louder this time.
Even Drew was startled by it as she jumped to her feet and whispered, "Be at my house by eight." Then she disappeared back to her desk.
On my way out of class, Trace came up behind me and tugged on my backpack strap. "Looked like you and Drew were having quite the conversation," he said with that familiar sparkle in his eye. I couldn't believe that we were talking again. I had somehow convinced myself that he would forget all about me, and I would go back to fantasizing about him from across the room for the rest of my life.
"Yeah," I replied, "it was really weird actually."
"What did she say?"
It felt strange telling Trace about my interaction with Drew before telling Jess. It felt weird telling anybody anything before telling Jess about it. "She kind of apologized, I guess, for everything that happened. She invited me over to her house Friday night to play games with some people. She said that you could come if you want."
Trace stuck out his bottom lip as he thought about the offer. Then with a nod of his head he said, "Sounds great. Do you want me to pick you up?"
His offer excited me and petrified me at the same time. To be picked up by Trace Weston felt like a dream, but the reality of it was a bit too much. Hanging out with him would be nerve racking enough without me having to deal with a doorstep scene. "No thanks, I'll just meet you at Drew's." A sick pit-like feeling developed in my stomach as I saw his eyes light up at the mention of Drew. He liked her. I just knew it. And now I was providing the perfect opportunity for them to be together this Friday night.
"I hate this!" I exclaimed as I dropped my books on the grass in front of my house after school.
Jess had been lying on the grass with his hands folded behind his head when I approached. "What happened?"
"Drew apologized to me today."
Jess sat up with surprise. "Really? That's huge. So what did you say?"
"I accepted it, I guess." My words lacked enthusiasm. "Then she invited me to her house this Friday to play games."
"Are you going to go?" He began playing with some grass, trying to make a whistle. But the grass was too wet, and it kept slipping between his fingers.
"Yes," I moaned under my breath. "I'm so stupid."
Jess looked up at me for an explanation.
"I told her I'd bring Trace."
"Why is that stupid?"
"Because she likes him, and I think he likes her too. And they're going to be all into each other, and I'm just going to be by myself looking like a loser."
"Why do you think Trace likes Drew?"
I shaded my eyes from the warm sun. "You've got to put the grass between your thumbs." I reached toward his hand that held the piece of grass and took it from him. "Like this." I held the grass taught between my lips and thumbs and blew. A highpitched squeal escaped behind the grass.
Jess looked sincerely impressed. "Where did you learn to do that?"
"When we go up to the Cape, my mom always has a spa day where she goes and gets a massage and a mud bath and the whole works. So my dad takes Bridget and me to the same park that is close to the spa. It's an absolutely terrible park for kids. There's only one set of monkey bars and an old weedy sandbox." I paused to laugh at the irony.
"But according to my dad, the park has perfect conditions for making whistles. He calls it whistle grass."
Jess tried blowing into the grass once more. "How long would your mom be gone?"
"All afternoon. But we have fun. I always look forward to that day actually. Especially the past few years since Bridget has been old enough to go with my mom. I've gotten my dad all to myself." That's when I had a thought that made the whole Drew-slashTrace situation insignificant.
"What's wrong?" Jess asked, still trying to straighten his thumbs around the grass blade.
"We're never going to go to Cape Cod again."
Jess sat perfectly still as he witnessed my realization.
"We're never going to have another family trip. My dad is too weak to go to the grocery store, let alone another state." I hated that this happened, but tears began forming in the corner of my eyes.
Jess leaned forward and stroked a piece of my hair that had fallen over my shoulder.
I continued, choking on my words, "Last year when we were making whistles, he told me that next year I would be old enough to go have spa day with the girls. When I told him that I preferred to be with him at the park, he was so happy." Tears began pouring out of my eyes. "He was so happy, Jess."
I heard Jess take a deep breath. I knew he didn't know what to say. I didn't either. It was just the way it was. My life had been perfect once, and now it was in ruins.
"It's actually kind of a funny story," Jess replied, but he wasn't smiling, "Parent-teacher conferences were last week at my school and-"
Bridget jumped in, "Your mom is going out with one of your teachers?" She threw her head back with an amused cackle, and I punched her in the arm.
Jess shifted in his chair. "No, nothing like that. But he's the dad of one of my friends at school. It was just weird to have him show up at my door all dressed up, holding flowers, you know." He stared at the ice in his glass.
Mom reached out and touched Jess's arm. "It would probably be a little strange to see any man other than your father showing up at your door for your mom, but I think this will be really good for her."
I watched Mom carefully scoop a bite of food onto her fork. I thought about her dating if and when Dad died. The thought caused an actual pain to burst in my chest, right where my heart was. I looked at Jess. It must be different for him, though; his father was so terrible. Surely he would be glad to see his mom dating other men.
Mom spoke again, "The truth is that I bet this is even harder for Caris to be going on a date right now than it is for you. I mean, imagine going out on your first date after all these years of being married." Mom's voice cracked, and she held her napkin up to her mouth. An uneasy silence fell over the table as Dad wrapped hi
s arm around her shoulders. It was absolutely impossible for me to take my eyes off my parents. I watched carefully as Dad stroked Mom's hair, and she buried her forehead into his chin. They were like two pieces of a puzzle; they fit together perfectly. How would Mom ever be able to be with another man? I felt the beating of my heart grow more rapid, and it became difficult to breathe.
Eventually Mom lifted her head and asked with a forced smile, "Gemma, did you see Trace today?"
I felt embarrassed that my entire family including Jess knew all about my crush on Trace. Was I really that much of an open book? I ducked my head as I answered, "Yes, but I think he likes Drew, so it doesn't really matter."
Everyone at the table continued eating quietly. Mom was the only one to respond. "I'm sorry, honey."
"It's okay. I never expected him to like me anyway. He's way out of my league."
"Oh, that is such bull crap," Bridget spat.
We all looked at her speechless, waiting for an explanation.
"Look at yourself in the mirror, Gemma. I don't care how inexperienced and self-doubting you are. You have this perfect little body and this shiny long brown hair that somehow wisps perfectly around your face whenever the slightest breeze blows past you." She tucked her own short hair behind her ears and stabbed at a piece of meat with her fork. "If I notice it, you can bet your pants that the boys at your school notice it."
We all sat in complete shock looking at Bridget, trying to figure out if that was a compliment or an insult.
Jess was the first one to speak, "See, Gemma? Bridget is the toughest critique out there. If you can impress her, you got it made."
Bridget cringed and fidgeted in her seat. "I never said I was impressed."
"Jess," Mom said as she redirected the conversation, "your mom told me you are going to California for the summer. When do you leave?"
I jerked my head at Jess. "What? You're going?" Then I paused as the reality of a Jess-less summer unfolded before me. My chest felt heavy and my eyes began to burn as I stared at Jess with angry eyes. "And you didn't tell me?"
Second Kiss Page 16
