Being Jamie Baker

by Kelly Oram

  I’ve seen Ryan at the movie theater lots of times, and he always looks at me weird and then takes our tickets without showing any other hint that he actually knows who I am, so I figured it would be okay. But I knew I was in trouble this time because his face lit up as we walked through the door. I guess making out with him changed the rules somehow and made it acceptable for him to say hi to me, because he gave me such a cheerful “Hey, Jamie!” that it actually startled my parents.

  He flashed me that stupid, charming, boyish grin of his, and I glared back, but my mother practically swooned. Before she could ask, Ryan held out his hand and said, “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Baker. I’m Jamie’s friend Ryan. It’s really nice to meet you.”

  So we’re friends now? One random kiss and a rejected date make us friends? I wanted to argue the point, but he didn’t appear to be sarcastic at all, and the sad fact is, I don’t have any friends. The fact that he even talked to me made him the closest thing to it, so I guess there was no harm in letting my parents believe it. At least then they might get off my case a little.

  Ryan shook my parents’ hands, and my mother all but pulled him in for a big, tight hug. I know she’s a little desperate for me to make friends and have a normal life, but if I had been trying to do that, she definitely wouldn’t have been helping any.

  You have to understand my mom, though. She and my dad are a normal teenager’s worst nightmare. Seriously, they’re straight out of one of those after-school specials about teenage pregnancy or anorexia or whatever. You know, always trying to help me be strong by telling me how proud of me they are and how much they love me and stuff.

  In today’s world of divorce and family dysfunction, my parents are basically freaks. They’ve always been cheesy and way overprotective—I suppose that’s just what happens when you’re raised in a little farming town in Illinois—but it’s gotten much worse since my accident. Sometimes I think they act like that because they’re afraid I’m tiptoeing on the edge of sanity, and if my home life isn’t perfect I’ll crack. But the truth is, my accident has affected them as much as me, and with everything we’ve been through in the last year, we’re all probably borderline lunatics. I’m sure they need the image of perfection as much as I do.

  While I should have been mortified when my mom greeted Ryan with a hug, I couldn’t really blame her. Instead, I just wanted to kill him. Buttering up my parents and getting their hopes up like that was a pretty low blow. But the boy really knows how to play the game, I’ll give him that much.

  “I’m surprised Jamie’s never mentioned such a good-looking boy to us before,” my mother gushed. “You’re just the type she usually blabs my ear off about.”

  Ryan smiled proudly for my mom’s sake, but the glance he shot me seemed to say, “So I’m your type, huh? Good to know.”

  I could be mistaken, but he seemed a little disappointed when I was unfazed by his taunting. He turned his attention back to my mom and asked, “She’s never mentioned me? Not even after what happened last week?”

  I groaned at Ryan’s pout, and especially at his feigned surprise, but my mother ate it up. My father, on the other hand, was now watching both Ryan and me meticulously, and very cautiously asked, “Why? What happened last week?”

  “Nothing,” I grumbled.

  “It definitely wasn’t nothing!” Ryan argued.

  I felt the chunks rise in my stomach at the thought of Ryan telling my parents that I’d kissed him. As I vowed inwardly to murder him if he gave up the secret, the jerk winked at me, happy to see he’d finally gotten to me. Thankfully, he divulged only a tiny piece of the story. “I finally got up the courage to ask her out,” he explained.

  As much as I wanted to believe that I’m not the only superpowered freak in the world, and that Ryan didn’t mention our kiss because he had some kind of mind-reading ability, I knew that wasn’t the case. I was being pretty obvious that I was contemplating murder, and I know Ryan picked up on it. My father saw it too, and even though I could tell he found Ryan’s harassing me funny, he tried his best to hide his amusement.

  My mother, however, didn’t notice me at all. She was too busy glaring at a group of girls flirting with Ryan as he tore their tickets. She raised her voice above their giggling to say, “Ryan, Jamie didn’t tell me you two have a date!”

  “That’s because we don’t,” I said quickly.

  You should have seen the look my mother gave me right then. She was so utterly disappointed in me. But Ryan laughed and muttered, “I’m still working on it, Mrs. Baker,” making her frown vanish instantly.

  The two of them being all chummy together was making me ill. “Isn’t there a movie we’re supposed to be watching right now or something?”

  Ryan is the last person to need any help with the dating game, but my mother wasn’t about to miss out on an opportunity to play matchmaker. “There’s at least ten minutes of previews before the show starts. If you want to talk for a few minutes, we’ll get out of your hair and call you when the movie starts.”

  Yeah, like that was going to happen. “And miss out on ten minutes of Thursday time to talk to him? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  My mother started to protest, and my dad went to stop her before she could start a fight with me, but Ryan beat him to the punch. “It’s all right, Mrs. Baker. My boss would be on my case for socializing anyway, and I’d hate to interrupt you guys. I think it’s cool that you spend so much time together. I wouldn’t want to impose on that.”

  Surprisingly enough, I couldn’t tell if Ryan was just kissing up to my parents or if he was actually serious. It’s that stupid grin of his. It’s too natural. My mother was a goner for it, that was obvious, but my dad was a little skeptical, like me. “And do you spend lots of time with your parents?” he asked.

  My dad was definitely trying to use his I-have-a-gun-and-I-doubt-anyone-would-miss-you voice, but Ryan didn’t seem to mind. “Well, my stepdad is away on business quite a bit, but he’s an all right guy, and I actually spend a lot of time with my mom when he’s away so she won’t get lonely.” Ryan shrugged and I couldn’t believe it, but there was a hint of redness in his cheeks, so he quickly added, “She makes me.” Not that it helped any.

  I think it was the blushing that finally convinced my dad that Ryan was being sincere. He nodded slowly and said, “Good kid.”

  “Thank you, sir. I just hope you remember you said that when Jamie finally agrees to go on a date with me.”

  My dad laughed, finally succumbing to the charm of Ryan Miller, and I’d had just about as much of this as I could take. “The movie’s probably starting now,” I snapped, and then stalked off to the theater.

  I heard my mother sigh, and after she apologized for her rude daughter, both she and my dad said good-bye, but Ryan stopped them before they could follow me. “Is there a trick to getting on her good side?” he asked.

  My dad just laughed, but my mother took pity on him and said, “Don’t push her too hard. That only makes it worse.”

  “I’ll remember that. Thank you, Mrs. Baker.”

  I tried to figure out if there was any discouragement in Ryan’s voice, but without seeing his face I couldn’t tell. I wish my mom had used the words “don’t bother” or “never going to happen,” but still, at least she didn’t just tell him to go for it and give him some spiel about me needing friends, like she does at home all the time.

  Getting my parents to stop bothering me about going out with Ryan was easy, but getting Ryan to stop bothering me about going out with Ryan was a different story. I was so nervous to go to school the next day because if Ryan had the guts to approach me when I was with my parents, then he would have absolutely no problem continuing the harassment at school.

  Friday actually came and went without any real trouble, though. I was kind of surprised but really relieved at the same time. I figured Ryan’s reservations had something to do with my mom telling him not to push me, because every time he saw me he smiled like he was buckets of friendly, b
ut he didn’t actually talk to me.

  After that, I figured the crisis was averted and hoped that Ryan just thought I was some loner who happened to be a really good kisser, but then things changed drastically the week of homecoming. It was Monday, and English started off the same as any other day—with me sitting in the far back corner, and Becky and Ryan somewhere up front with the majority of the rest of the class gathered around them like a flock of sheep. Ryan glanced my direction every now and then, just as he’d done ever since our kiss, but it still took me by surprise when he decided to end our silent streak.

  Ten minutes before the bell rang, setting us free for the day, Mr. Edwards told us to pick a partner, since for our next assignment we would be writing biographies of a classmate. Usually, picking partners meant I sat there doodling in my notebook until everyone else picked a partner. Then, when Mr. Edwards tried to group me with two other people, I’d tell him I could do the project by myself.

  With most teachers, I’d never get away with that, but this is Mr. E’s first year of teaching, so he hasn’t figured out yet that you shouldn’t let your students push you around, and he always gives in. Today, however, it didn’t go down that way, and I was totally caught off guard.

  “Take the last ten minutes,” Mr. Edwards said, “to pick a partner, exchange numbers, plan a date, or do whatever you have to do, because these papers are due in two weeks.”

  Becky, of course, automatically turned to Ryan with a big smile. “This will be easy,” she said. “I already know everything about you.”

  But then, much to everyone’s surprise, and not just mine, Ryan replied, “Why don’t you partner with Paige on this one? I think I’m going to do my paper with Jamie.”

  I didn’t have any time to protest because I think Becky was actually angrier about it than I was. “What?” she yelled, and then glared my direction. “Did I miss something? The freak jumps you like a dog in heat and suddenly you’re best friends?”

  “Is there a problem, Ms. Eastman?” Mr. Edwards asked.

  Ryan was quick to step in. “We’re fine, Mr. E. It’s just that this is one assignment Jamie can’t do by herself, and I know no one else is going to be her partner.”

  “Got that right,” Becky scoffed with an Oscar-worthy pout. I think she would have gouged my eyes out right then, if she could.

  Mr. Edwards glanced from me to Ryan, trying to cover his look of shock, and then whispered to Ryan as if the whole class couldn’t hear him anyway, “Are you sure?”

  “I’m not scared of her,” Ryan said, flashing me a big grin.

  Mr. Edwards shook off his surprise and started to write down our names.

  “Uh, Mr. E.?” I snapped. “I’m not working with him.”

  I glared at Mr. Edwards and waited for him to back down as usual, but this time when he sighed, he didn’t say “fine,” the way he normally did. Instead he said, “I’m afraid Ryan’s right, Jamie. This is an assignment you can’t do by yourself.”

  “Mr. E., I’m not telling some stranger all the intimate details of my life so he can spread it around the whole school!”

  The entire class was now watching the confrontation with great intrigue, still trying to get over the shock of Ryan offering to be my partner. You’d think we were on American Idol and Simon Cowell had just complimented someone.

  Mr. Edwards studied me for a moment, deliberating, and when he smiled, I thought I’d won him over, but he shook his head. “If you’re that uncomfortable with your classmates, I suppose you can interview me.”

  “You?” My jaw dropped to the floor, and I heard gasps and giggles all around the room. “You want me to partner with you?”

  “I’m not so bad,” Mr. E. said lightly.

  It’s true, for a teacher he’s not that bad. He’s funny, plays the bass guitar in a band, and lets us eat in class. He’s even kind of cute. You know, for a teacher.

  But still!

  I couldn’t believe Mr. Edwards didn’t grasp the horror behind that idea. I may be a complete social outcast, but even I have my limits. “Can’t I just write an autobiography?”

  “It’s not the same thing. You’re going to be graded on how well you can extract information during the interview process. You can’t do that with yourself.”

  I just sat there gaping at Mr. Edwards. He’s always given me my way. Where was this coming from? It’s just a stupid paper. And it’s not even about anything important!

  The silence was broken by Ryan’s cheerful voice. “Come on, Jamie. You have to admit that I’m a better alternative than partnering with your teacher. No offense, Mr. E.”

  What other choice did I have? Mr. Edwards is one of those teachers who still cares about his students. He’s actually kept a close eye on me since his first week here, when he pegged me as one of those “troubled” teens they have seminars about in college. He’s always trying to give me pep talks and stuff. I did not need to give him extra opportunities to ask me if I’m okay and try to get me to see a school counselor.

  Knowing about my powers or not, Ryan really was the better option. I glowered at him, but he seemed to already know that he’d gotten his way. He winked at me, and then Mr. Edwards sighed again as he scribbled down our names. “Okay, Ryan and Jamie are partners,” he said, and then muttered, “Good luck,” to Ryan under his breath.

  The smile Ryan gave me as he plopped down in the desk in front of mine was almost a victorious one. “Well, this is convenient,” he said cheerfully. “I can finally ask you for your number.”

  “You won’t get it.”

  “Even better, just give me your address, and I’ll come over this week.”

  “Nice try.”

  “We’re going to have to get together sometime.”

  “Just make something up. No one will know it’s not true.”

  “Won’t work.” Ryan laughed. “Even if I did, everyone knows me. They would know if you made up yours.”

  “I just won’t turn one in.”

  Ryan sighed, but I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t discouraged at all. It’s kind of annoying how peppy and cool under pressure he seems all the time. “Would it really kill you to go out with me?”

  “Oh, so we’re talking about a date now and not just a paper?”

  “It could be just about the paper, if you’d rather.”

  I can be a patient person if I have to be, but the truth is, his little puppy-dog act was almost cute, so I had to get rid of him before I ended up giving in like last time. Getting to know people can be hazardous to my health, especially when it involves telling him about my past. “I’d rather it be neither,” I quipped, and then promptly headed out of the room.

  He didn’t follow me, which I was happy about, but then Tuesday at lunch he was back, as diligent as ever and being really cute in a way that annoyed me no end. “Hey, Jamie!” Ryan greeted me as he plopped his lunch down next to mine.

  “What will it take to get you to go away?”

  “An interview.”

  I rolled my eyes, but Ryan pulled out a notepad and pen as if he knew I would give in. “Right here, in the middle of the cafeteria so it’s not a date in any way,” he said. “No funny business, just the basics, and then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

  That was almost worth it. I glared up at him, but he smiled, somehow knowing he’d just gotten his way. “Fine, what do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  “Okay, I like rainbows, puppies, and long walks on the beach. My dislikes include rap music, sauerkraut, and people. Mostly you.”

  “Perfect.” Ryan scribbled my words down on his notepad, knowing full well I was feeding him crap. “What else?”

  “There is nothing else.”

  “This isn’t helping, Jamie. I’m supposed to be writing a biography, not a Playboy article.”

  “What else do you want to know?”

  “I want to know a lot. I have lots of questions about you.”

  “Like?” I as
ked sarcastically.

  “Like, the other day I was wondering why you dye your hair.”

  Okay, I expected him to ask where I was born or what my birthday was, but why do I dye my hair? Where did that come from? “What?” I asked, trying not to laugh because I didn’t want him to think he was winning me over.

  He smiled as though he enjoyed my confusion. “Well, you’re not Asian, and you’re not really trying for the Goth look. Not that your hair doesn’t look great with those bright green eyes, but it’s clearly not your natural color, so why the jet black?”

  I thought about it for a moment. Dodging the question would have raised more suspicions than answering it, but I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I figured if he could tell the truth, then so could I. “Well, it’s naturally green,” I admitted dryly, “and the black works better than bleach.”

  He frowned for a second, almost daring to believe me, but then laughed. “Green?”

  “And the eyes aren’t natural either, they’re blue contacts.”

  “But if you’re wearing blue contacts, to get your eyes that shade of green they’d have to be—”

  “Yellow.”

  “So your hair is green, and your eyes are yellow?”

  “Yup. Are we done yet?”

  I hoped that my answers, while true, would give Ryan the hint that he wasn’t going to get a real interview out of me and he would stop. He was quiet for a second, staring at me with pure curiosity, and I could tell he was debating asking me something else.

  I glared at him, breaking his stare, and when he shook himself from his daze, he smiled. “Just one more,” he said, and didn’t pause quite long enough for me to say no. “Where’d you learn to kiss like that?”

  Again, Ryan was full of surprises. I was not expecting that. At the mere mention of our kiss, my heart nearly stopped. I tried to hide my reaction, but he noticed me flinch and leaned a little closer to me with a cocky grin. “Did I hit a nerve?”

  “Interview’s over,” I snapped.