by Liz Fichera
I sat higher in my chair and beamed back at him. I could feel my lips curving upward again, into that goofy, deliriously happy smile. I bit down to stop it.
The rules have changed.
The first warning bell rang.
“Damn,” Ryan muttered, frowning at the wall clock. “We gotta go.”
“Yeah,” I said, just as Ryan turned, leaned closer and then very gently pressed his lips against mine. His lips were soft and warm and his tongue parted my lips. It wasn’t a dream.
My head spun all the way to Homeroom.
Chapter 30
Ryan
I WALKED FRED TO HER HOMEROOM before running halfway across the building to mine. I glided inside, skateboard-style, just as the bell rang, and ignored the Homeroom teacher’s glare when my kicks screeched across the linoleum.
Too bad I couldn’t switch to Fred’s Homeroom. It would have delayed the inevitable for twenty more minutes. I seriously needed to talk to Seth and Gwyneth. I was dreading it, but they had Fred figured all wrong. And maybe they had me figured all wrong, too.
Seth sat in the last row. I slid into the empty seat beside him. I dumped my backpack underneath the desk and nodded, just as the principal started droning over the loudspeakers about Friday’s football game and the upcoming Homecoming dance.
I cringed inside. The dance. One more thing I’d have to cancel with Gwyneth.
“Hey. Dude. Thanks for the blow-off on Saturday.” Seth’s smile was tighter than usual, every facial muscle triggered to snap like a mousetrap.
“Yeah, sorry,” I exhaled.
“You missed a real ripper.”
I nodded like I was bummed. But then my hand absently scratched the side of my head. “Had some lame stuff going on at home.”
“Really?” Seth’s eyes widened just as mine darted to the desk in front of me. “Like what?”
I swallowed, considering this. I hadn’t planned on telling Seth about Fred and me in Homeroom. I was kind of hoping to wait till after school, at least till lunch. “Oh, you know. Stuff. My old man wanted me to keep an eye on Riley while he was at work.”
Seth chuckled. “Work?” His eyebrows arched, doubtful. “Since when?” Unfortunately, Seth knew all about Dad. I should have said something more believable, but his sudden inquisition was unexpected.
“You know,” I said, eager to fast-forward past Dad’s extracurricular activities. “Whatever it is he does.”
“You mean banging secretaries?”
I glared at him.
“That’s too bad. Missed a ballin’ party at Troy’s.” He made a drinking motion with his hand, but his eyes still had a crazy glint, like there was more to the story. Like the police had been called or something.
“So I heard,” I lied and faked a conspiratorial grin. If only I could tell him that I hadn’t missed a thing. I would have traded one hundred parties at Troy’s for one Saturday night on Pecos Road with Fred. I couldn’t get her out of my mind, and now I didn’t want to.
“Gwyneth’s pretty pissed at you. I’d stay clear till at least fourth period.”
“Yeah, Gwyneth…” My voice trailed off. Back to reality.
Fourth period was Study Hall when we usually sat together and I half listened to her complain about one of her girlfriends or some teacher that she hated. That was when I planned to talk to Gwyneth. I wanted to break up with her, and I already felt pretty guilty about not doing it sooner. “Thanks for the warning.”
“But I think she said something about meeting you after English,” Seth added.
My shoulders slumped. I would have preferred Study Hall.
Seth paused. His eyes narrowed to tiny slits as he peered at me sideways. “Zack said he saw you at the club with Pocahontas.” He paused again, oddly.
Zack. I had forgotten about seeing him and his dad at the country club on Saturday. Funny, it had bothered me then but now I didn’t really care. Let him see Fred and me together. Let everyone see us together.
My mouth turned dry as Seth waited. Finally I said, “That’s lame, Seth. You really shouldn’t call her that.”
“What?” Seth’s voice challenged, as if he had been expecting me to defend her. “Pocahontas?” Two guys in front of us turned their heads, looked at each other and smiled nervously.
“Cram it, Seth,” I hissed.
“Isn’t she Indian? Or am I not allowed to say it?”
I ignored him.
“Something else you want to tell me?” he taunted.
“What is your fucking problem?”
“I don’t have the problem.” He paused. “You do.”
Anger churned inside me like a tornado. Seth was stoking for a fight and impossible to ignore. I wasn’t about to talk about Fred in Homeroom in front of a couple of nosy dudes.
Seth leaned closer when I didn’t answer him. He lowered his voice. “Then let me say something.” He jabbed his forefinger at me. “First, don’t lie. I am not a tool. I know why you flaked out Saturday night. I saw you.” It was as if he’d prepared for this. “I saw what you did.”
I glared at him.
A glint of satisfaction settled on his face. “We both did.”
“Who?” I blurted. But then I remembered the truck, the one that had peeled away in the dark.
“Gwyneth. We followed your ass to Pecos.”
“You followed me?” My voice rose in disbelief.
Seth began to stutter. I hadn’t heard him do that in years either. It only happened when he got really pissed. “And, s-s-s-second…” He stopped and drew in a breath to steady his speech. “Do you realize that you’re screwing your life by hanging out with that Indian?”
My body froze. “Shut. Up. Seth,” I said through clenched teeth. “Just shut up.” By now, half of Homeroom was listening, or trying to. Fortunately, the overhead speakers were turned up pretty loud.
“What do you have in common with her anyway? Have you thought about that? And have you forgotten that she’s the reason I’m off the g-g-golf team?” Seth began to stutter again. I knew that he also was itching to remind me how his dad had been killed, but, thankfully, he left that unspoken.
My nostrils still flared. I couldn’t answer him.
“You know the only reason you’re interested in her is because it’ll piss off your dad. Admit it.” Seth’s eyes grew dangerously dark, daring a contradiction.
My breathing got louder as I drew it between my teeth, glaring back at Seth.
Seth lowered his voice. “Are you going to start hanging out on the reservation now, going to powwows and shit? Have you gone totally lame?”
“Shut up, Seth,” I said. He was pushing me, and my fingers tingled as if they were on fire. I wanted to punch something. I shoved my fists between my legs. “Just shut up and leave me alone,” I said as I waited for the next bell to ring. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The principal finally finished his announcements. I hadn’t heard a single one. Students began to shuffle books and papers as they reached for their backpacks, stealing glances at Seth and me, probably wondering if there was going to be a fight. I saw a few reach for their cell phones.
“Sorry, dude,” Seth said, his voice normal again. “But I’m your best friend. Somebody had to tell you.”
“Stop talking, Seth,” I said through clenched teeth. “Please.” My forehead started to throb, and the curious stares around me didn’t help.
But I couldn’t flake off something that Seth said. Was I falling for Fred for all the wrong reasons? For an instant, a part of me wondered if he was right.
Maybe I should have left everything the way it was.
Chapter 31
Fred
I SURVIVED HOMEROOM and found my way across campus to English without hyperventilating. I didn’t walk to English as much as float.
Along the way, I scanned the hallway for Ryan, trying not to appear too eager but unable to ignore the fireworks bursting inside me. I’d never been so exhilarated by a day tha
t had barely begun.
I walked into English before the bell. Almost everyone was seated, including Ryan. He sat in the last seat in my row, his head partially hidden and lowered over an open book. He didn’t look up when I entered, and I wondered whether to go back and say something.
Like Hello.
The rules have changed, I reminded myself. I could do that now. He was my boyfriend, wasn’t he?
But then my eyes met Seth Winter’s. He sat next to Ryan. He flashed one of his tight-lipped, icy smiles that made every hair prickle on the back of my neck. I had to wonder what Ryan saw in Seth. Could Seth ever forgive me for taking his spot on the golf team?
Then my eyes lowered to my seat, the empty one at the front of the row. There was a folded newspaper waiting on my desk, maybe the same one that Ryan had shown me in the library, and my stomach somersaulted all over again.
Quickly, I placed my backpack underneath my desk and slipped into the seat.
My smile faded when I found the photo on page three of the sports section, the same one where I was holding my driver on the fourth tee. Someone had used a black marker to draw a band around my forehead with feathers on each side. A crude Indian headdress.
My nostrils flared and my breathing quickened.
The photo turned cloudy the longer I stared at it. I had to swallow back the bile building deep in my throat. I folded and then crumpled the newspaper and stuffed it inside my backpack. I wanted to shred it into a million tiny pieces.
“Miss Oday?” Mrs. Weisz said. “Is something wrong?”
I froze. My eyes turned up. Then I remembered where I was. “Wrong?” I mumbled.
“Yes, wrong,” Mrs. Weisz enunciated. “You keep rattling that newspaper. Do you mind?” Her eyes looked like they could bulge through her bifocals. A few students snickered behind me. One of them sounded like Seth.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Weisz said with a flourish and then returned to writing assignments on the whiteboard. Her black marker squeaked across the surface.
Still struggling to control my breathing, I turned and peered over my shoulder at Ryan. I needed to talk to him. I needed to tell him about the newspaper. I figured he’d be as angry about it as I was. Instead of finding Ryan’s eyes, I found Seth’s cold, empty ones. That icy grin still plastered across his face.
I spun around and tried to focus. But concentration was impossible. All I could see was the clock above Mrs. Weisz’s head. It was as if somebody had smothered the clock’s hands in glue.
When the bell rang, I was one of the first students to stand. I grabbed my backpack, stuffed my books inside and waited for Ryan to walk down the row.
But Ryan sprang out of the back row in four long strides and was the first one to reach the door.
He didn’t turn toward the front of my row like I’d figured he would. His head and eyes stayed lowered. He didn’t acknowledge me in any way. I was invisible.
My throat tightened as I watched him dart toward the door without even a glance in my direction.
What is happening?
I had to talk to Ryan.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening. This. Can’t. Be. Happening.
And yet it was.
Chapter 32
Ryan
I COULDN’T LEAVE ENGLISH CLASS FAST enough. It was like my head wanted to explode, and sitting next to Seth only fueled my pent-up frustration. I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said: You’re only interested in Fred because you know it will piss off your dad.
Was that why I liked her?
My mind raced throughout class, never once hearing Mrs. Weisz’s lecture on Shakespeare.
As soon as the bell rang, I sprang from my seat and raced for the door, my backpack already threaded over my shoulder. I ignored Seth’s “Hold up” call. Instead, I burst through the door and headed for the corner where I planned to wait for Fred, alone. She would have to go that way to reach her next class.
Except Gwyneth was already waiting for me outside the door.
She had one hand resting on her hip and her backpack threaded over her opposite shoulder. Her weight was shifted on her right leg like she’d been waiting awhile. And she was smiling at me, the tight-lipped kind.
I pulled up when I saw her. I had hoped not to talk to her till fourth period. Nothing was going the way I had planned.
“We need to talk.” She grabbed my hand. “Now.” Her fingers were dry and ice-cold.
She tugged, and I followed, grudgingly, to the corner where I had planned to wait for Fred. It had a perfect view of the English classroom door. Until people began streaming out of the rooms and brushed by us from all directions. It was like being in a fish tank. In a matter of seconds, the normally gray hallway erupted with color and voices.
I lowered my head toward Gwyneth so I could hear her, keeping one eye on the door to watch for Fred. “Yeah,” I said, swallowing. “I need to talk to you, too.” Her hair smelled like strawberry cough syrup, suffocating me.
“Me, first,” Gwyneth said, predictably. Her chin lifted. She left her hand on my forearm and began to rub her thumb nervously against my wrist.
“You didn’t call me back yesterday.”
I swallowed. “Sorry.”
“Where were you Saturday night?”
“Out,” I said flatly. I wondered if I should tell her that I knew she and Seth followed me.
“With who?”
“With Fred,” I said quickly.
Tears began to moisten Gwyneth’s eyes. That didn’t help. “Fred?” Gwyneth said it like it was impossible. Her shiny pink lower lip began to quiver.
Jeez. This is hard.
“Look, I know I should have told you. I’m sorry. But this thing with Fred and me…” I paused. My voice lowered. “It just…happened.”
Gwyneth choked back a sob. “You lied to me!” She lifted her hand to her face, rotating between hiding her eyes and glaring at me. “You’ve been lying to me all along.”
“I’m so sorry, Gwyneth. Please don’t cry,” I said, struggling for the right words but finding none. I mean, how do you get a girl to stop crying once the tears start flowing? “But I like Fred. A lot.”
Oops. Totally wrong thing to say.
Gwyneth cried harder, muffling her sobs with her hand. She leaned on me like she was about to faint. I couldn’t tell if she was being overly dramatic or was truly upset. “But what about Homecoming next month?” She sniffed against the back of her hand. “You promised.”
Instead of answering, I closed my eyes briefly. I didn’t even like school dances. Gwyneth’s hand on my arm started to shake when I didn’t say what she wanted to hear.
“Please, Ryan. Don’t do this….” She leaned against me, squeezing my arm for balance, but then her voice changed. Peering around my shoulder, she half blurted, half laughed, “Oh, no. Look who’s here….”
“What?” I turned.
“Skank,” Gywneth said, loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear.
Fred stared at us from across the hallway. Her lips parted slightly as her dark eyes pulled together, confused. Angry. They darted between Gwyneth and me. They took in Gwyneth’s hand resting on my arm, her entire body leaning into mine. Fred blinked once, then twice. Her head began to shake.
“Fred,” I said. But then my eyes traveled above her shoulders.
Sam Tracy appeared behind her, dwarfing Fred and just about everyone else. He didn’t glare at me, but he didn’t look like he thought very much of me either. He tapped Fred’s shoulder, and she turned to him. He lowered his head to say something in her ear that I couldn’t hear above the roar of voices filling the hallway. She nodded, and together they turned and walked down the hallway, surrounded by frazzled students trying to beat the next bell.
“Fred!” my voice roared. “Wait!” I shook off Gwyneth’s hand.
But Fred didn’t stop.
I abandoned Gwyneth and wedged
my way through the crowd to reach Fred, jostling the people around me with my backpack. Someone even yelled, “Dude, chill!” but I ignored him.
Fred moved fast, and for a huge guy, so did Sam. I finally caught up to them right before they reached the next doorway. I pulled back on her shoulder till she had to stop. “Fred,” I said again. “Hold up. Please.”
This time, Sam spun around and glared at me, his black eyes shiny with bottomless anger. We were both breathing pretty heavily, and my heart began to pump in overtime.
“Hey, you got a problem?” Sam said, plucking my hand from Fred’s shoulder. Then he replaced my hand with his beefy one. Like his belonged on her shoulder, not mine.
Fred finally turned, not because she wanted to, but because she had to. The three of us were causing quite a scene in the hallway.
I looked at Sam. “Can you just give us a second?”
Sam turned to Fred and frowned. But she nodded at him while barely looking at me. “I’ll see you inside,” she said to Sam.
Sam sighed and walked inside the room backward, glowering at me the whole time. I ignored him as students filed past us into the classroom.
“It’s not what you think,” I said. “With Gwyneth, I mean.”
Fred shook her head. “Really?” Her eyes pooled with hurt. “You looked pretty cozy. And you ignored me in English.” She looked at me like she was looking through me.
“Well, what’s with Tracy?” I retorted. I hated that she was suddenly looking at me like I was some kind of stranger. “You two looked pretty tight, too.” I wanted to swallow back the words, but my entire body was pumped with enough adrenaline to fill an Olympic-size pool. Seeing them together, Sam’s hand on her shoulder, even for an instant, was like a punch to the gut.
“Sam is just a—” But then Fred stopped herself. Her chin lifted. “Sam and I date. Occasionally.”
It was like someone split open my chest and yanked out my heart. I sure as hell wasn’t expecting that. “Wish you would have told me that.” Before I fell for you. Hard.
“Maybe it’s better if you just leave me alone, Ryan. Maybe it’s better if we leave each other alone. We made a mistake. This is a mistake.”
