Then to my complete surprise, Ashley put her arms around me and gave me the warmest hug. “Oh, poor Jordan,” she said soothingly. “Those two are such total jerks, I think they deserve each other. Just forget about them, Jordan.”
And finally I stopped crying, and feeling just a teeny bit better, I offered to help her clean up.
I could tell it was going to take a long time, and not wanting to get grounded on top of everything else, I decided to call my parents and actually tell them the truth. Okay, part of the truth.
“Ashley’s party got totally crashed by a bunch of rowdy kids,” I told my dad. “They brought alcohol and really trashed the place, and I want to help her clean up. But I think it’s going to take a while. Maybe I should just spend the night.”
“Now, where exactly does Ashley live?” my dad asked. And I could tell he was trying really hard to believe me. So I told him the address, fairly certain that before the night was over, he’d be driving his old Volvo by to make sure I was really there.
We worked until around two in the morning just to get rid of all the “evidence” of illegal or illicit activities, and let me tell you, it was totally gross. I was convinced by then that I would never throw a party when my parents were gone. At that point, we were so exhausted that we decided to call it a night and pick up where we’d left off in the morning.
Even though I was totally exhausted, both emotionally and physically, I stayed awake long after Ashley had crashed. All I could think about was the horrible scene I’d stumbled upon in the master bathroom. I think I cried myself to sleep.
six
SOMETIMES THERE’S NOTHING LIKE GOOD HARD WORK WHEN YOU’RE depressed. And believe me, I was seriously depressed the following day. It was probably a good thing that I spent most of the day helping Ashley put her house back together. It probably kept me from doing something else, something totally regrettable, like ramming my car into Shawna’s.
“You’re really good at this,” Ashley told me as I helped her glue a lamp base that had been broken.
“It’s my obsessive-compulsive side,” I told her. “I like to make everything perfect. It’s pretty sick, really. You should see my room.”
She laughed. “Yeah, Shawna told us about it once.” Then she got this startled expression. “I’m sorry, Jordan. I shouldn’t have mentioned her.”
“It’s okay,” I tried to reassure her. “I might as well get used to it.” I studied Ashley for a moment. “So, did Shawna make fun of me when she told you about my impeccably neat room?”
Ashley kind of shrugged. “She said you have to keep everything in its place or you totally lose it.”
I sighed. I should’ve known I couldn’t trust Shawna, not even on the most basic levels. “Well,” I said, “that’s not completely true. But I am kind of a neat freak.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining, Jordan. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. I owe you big-time, girl.”
So, perhaps I’ve made a friend through all this. Although it’s a small consolation, considering what I’ve lost. Mainly Timothy. I’m pretty sure that I’ve lost him. Now, I know I shouldn’t care, since everyone except Shawna seems to think he’s a total jerk anyway. And maybe he is, but that doesn’t seem to stop the way I feel about him. I mean, I’m kind of experiencing a love-hate thing at the moment. But I can’t stop thinking about him. It’s like he’s stuck in my heart somehow. I suppose it could simply be my obsessive-compulsive nature just caught in a groove and unable to get out. But I don’t think so. I think it’s just that I still love him.
Ashley and I finally finished our clean-a-thon by midafternoon. “Let me take you to lunch,” offered Ashley. “It’s the least I can do to thank you. And I have to stop by the mall to check on my mom’s shop. I got someone else to fill in for me today, but I’d better make sure nothing’s gone wrong over there.”
I leaned back into the comfortable seat of Ashley’s car. It’s an almost-new Honda Accord and in much better shape than my old VW Bug. And Ashley had given me what was actually a pretty cool T-shirt to wear.
“Believe it or not, it used to fit me,” she’d told me, laughing as she looked down at her well-endowed chest. “I’d only worn it once and then my mom accidentally washed it in hot water. We’re talking serious ShrinkyDink. But I liked it so much that I couldn’t stand to throw it away.”
Personally, I was glad that she hadn’t.
I turned and looked at Ashley as she drove toward town. I’ve never really thought about it much, since Ashley and I have never been real close before, but I could see now that she’s actually very pretty with her straight auburn hair and big brown eyes.
“Have you ever been dumped like that, Ashley?” I asked as she turned toward the mall.
“Are you kidding?” she laughed. “Sheesh, lots of times.”
“Really? I figured you’d be the one to do the dumping.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve done that too.”
“Did you ever get dumped by someone you really liked?”
She was quiet for about a minute and then nodded. “You probably don’t remember, but Brett and I used to go out.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I do remember that. What happened?”
She shrugged. “What usually happens?”
“Huh?”
“You know. Same old, same old.”
“That’s just it, Ashley,” I told her rather emphatically. “I don’t know. To be perfectly honest, I’m still kind of new at this.”
She turned and looked at me and then smiled—a sincere smile. “You’re really a sweet girl, Jordan. It’s almost a shame.”
I frowned. “A shame?”
“That you’ve gotten yourself mixed up in this crowd.”
“Huh?” Now I was really feeling lost.
She sighed, and for some reason it reminded me of a sound that an old woman who was bone tired or perhaps just jaded by life might make. “Sometimes I just get so sick of high school, Jordan, that I think it’ll be so great to finally graduate and get on with my life.”
Now, I don’t usually feel like that myself. I mean, usually—and especially this fall—I thought that high school was so cool that I wanted it to last, like, forever. But after what happened last night, I think maybe I understand what she’s saying. “But at least you’re a junior,” I reminded her.
“Yeah, only a freaking year and a half until I get to escape.” Then she laughed. “Sorry. I guess I’m still bummed about that stupid party.” She shook her head as she turned into the mall parking lot. “Live and learn.”
At lunch I probably went on a little too long about Timothy and Shawna, but Ashley was fairly patient with me, probably because I’d been so helpful in getting her house back together.
But finally she said, “You know, Jordan, you need to just let it go.”
“Let it go?”
“Uh-huh. Let it go.”
“How do you do that?”
“You’ve just got to get on with your life.”
“What if I can’t?” I noticed I was biting the edge of a fingernail, something I thought I’d given up ages ago. I put my hands in my lap and looked at her.
“Well, then ask yourself, what good is it going to do to be consumed with jealousy?”
“Consumed with jealousy?” I echoed, wondering if that was really how I came across.
She nodded. “Yeah. That’s how you seem to me, Jordan. It’s like it’s eating you alive that Shawna got Timothy back.”
“But it was wrong,” I told her. “It should be against the rules to use sex to get a guy back.”
Well, this made Ashley laugh so hard that I thought she was going to wet her pants or split a gut. “The rules?” she finally sputtered. “What rules, Jordan? Don’t you know there are no rules when it comes to this kind of thing?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes. “All is fair in love and war. But you’d think when people were friends—”
“Friends?” She looked at me like I w
as about three years old. “Did you really think that Shawna was your friend?”
“We used to be good friends—”
“No, I mean, after you moved in on her man. Did you honestly think she was your friend after that?”
I considered this.
“Get real, Jordan. Shawna was just using you, worming her way back into your world so she could get the upper hand and gain some control over what was going on with you and Timothy. Didn’t you get that?”
I shook my head. Call me dumb or naive or just plain stupid, but I did not get that. “I thought she was my friend,” I said in a mousy voice.
“It’s how the game is played,” she told me. “Sheesh, we’ve been playing it since middle school. I guess it really is new to you.” She pushed her empty plate away from her. “I suppose that does put you at a serious disadvantage, Jordan.”
“You’re telling me.” I looked at her hopefully. “I’m open to any suggestions.”
“That’s just it. Like I was telling you, I’m getting kind of sick of the game. I mean, maybe you’re just catching me on a bad day, but sometimes I just wish everyone would grow up.”
Then I remembered something she’d said earlier. “But what about Brett Hawkins, Ashley? Would you lower yourself to play the game if you could get Brett back?”
She shrugged.
“You know that he and Shawna aren’t going out now. Did you see him leave last night? He looked pretty bummed,” I said.
“Oh, right,” she said sarcastically. “Like I want to go get him on the freakin’ rebound. You bet!”
“Yeah, I suppose that’s not such a good idea.”
“If Brett and I are meant to be, then fine. But I’m not going to chase him.”
“Right.” And I told myself I wouldn’t go chasing Timothy either, but unfortunately I didn’t exactly believe myself. We talked for a while longer, and I really tried to take her advice about letting things go. I even put on this happy mask face, like, Hey, everything’s cool. But the pitiful truth is there is this little something inside me that just won’t let it go.
Later that afternoon as I left Ashley’s house, I couldn’t help but drive by Shawna’s place to see if Timothy’s car was there, which it wasn’t, and then by Timothy’s house to see if he was home, which he wasn’t. Naturally, that didn’t make me feel any better because then I realized that the two of them might actually be out together, and that made me sick.
Then, even as I drove, quite slowly, toward home, I found myself craning my neck to peer down every single side street, searching for that familiar red Mustang classic that Timothy and his dad restored together. It’s an easy car to spot, but I didn’t see it anywhere. And, of course, this didn’t make me feel one bit better.
I even started to dial Shawna’s home number on my cell phone, thinking I’d just wait to see if she’d answer, planning to hang up if she did. But I remembered they have caller ID at her house and decided not to risk it. But I did consider finding a pay phone and calling from there. Now, I ask you, how lame is that?
seven
I SERIOUSLY THINK I’M BECOMING A STALKER. I SAW THIS SHOW ON TV once about these whacked-out people who get so obsessed with someone that they can’t even control themselves anymore. They drive by some poor unsuspecting slob’s house at all hours of the day and night. Sometimes they park out front and just sit and watch. There are actually laws against it in some states—maybe even ours. But, believe me, it’s a sick, sick thing. It’s been only five days since Timothy broke my heart, but the way I’m acting right now is seriously scaring me.
You see, I find myself using any excuse I can think of to drive my car around town. I’ll take Tommy to Scouts or Leah to piano lessons or even go to the store for my mom. I’m surprised she’s not suspicious.
But as soon as I’ve dropped off Leah or Tommy or picked up a gallon of 2-percent milk, I drive directly to Timothy’s house. I slowly cruise by to see if he’s home, and if he’s not, I try to figure out where he might be. My first guess is usually Shawna’s. And so I drive by there next. And on it goes.
I’ve even taken to using my parents’ cars sometimes, like I’m going undercover. And I can’t believe how much money I’m wasting on gas, not to mention that my homework is suffering. But it’s like I don’t even care about anything except how I can get Timothy back. I know, I know, I shouldn’t want him back so badly. But I do. I can’t even begin to explain why. Maybe it’s because he’s so doggone cute. Or maybe it’s because he’s the most popular jock in school and I think everyone will respect me more if I’m his girl. Or maybe I’m just mad at Shawna and I want to get even. Believe me, I’ve considered all these things. But what I keep coming down to is that it’s just plain and simple love —true love. I mean, really, isn’t it possible that what I feel is the real thing? And like they say in old movies, true love never runs smoothly.
So I’ve decided I’m not really a stalker, maybe since I don’t want to do Timothy any harm, and I think that stalkers usually do want to hurt someone. I’m just trying to be opportunistic by putting myself in the right place at the right time. I envision us running into each other—well, not literally (although the thought has occurred to me before, like we have this unexpected collision and the next thing I know he’s wiping blood from my forehead and gently kissing me), but mostly I mean running into each other somewhere that I just happen to be at the same time he is. And then we talk and apologize and patch things up, and we are happily back together again, maybe even picking out wedding rings and china patterns.
Although, I don’t have the same nonviolent feelings toward Shawna. Sometimes I actually wish I could run into her, as in run her down in the middle of the street with my car—hopefully in her cheerleading uniform, leaving this big red and blue blob smeared across the pavement. Okay, not really, since that’s totally gross, not to mention illegal and actually pretty evil. But sometimes I feel as if I’d really like to hurt her.
Because, believe me, she is asking for it. Every single day this week so far, and this is only Wednesday, Shawna has blatantly flaunted their relationship right in my face. Now, I’ve tried to take Ashley’s advice to “just move on,” at least as far as appearances go. And to the casual observer I’m sure that it looks like I have moved on since I go around wearing my little happy mask all day. I smile and laugh and carry on like my heart’s still in one piece, but beneath it all, I am dying.
And does Shawna have one single ounce of sympathy for me? Does she care how I may be feeling? Forget about it! She is one twisted devil chick. I think about how careful I was of her feelings when Timothy and I were together, how I tried not to flaunt our relationship. Well, Shawna seems to get her kicks out of torturing me. Believe me, she’s an expert at twisting the knife she so gracefully slipped into my back the night of Ashley’s party.
“Timothy says that the basketball team is looking really good,” she said to Amber at practice this afternoon, like anyone was asking. Of course, Shawna always saves these comments until she is absolutely sure I’m within earshot. “You should’ve seen their scrimmage last night,” she continued loudly. “Timothy is playing better than ever. It was awesome. I wouldn’t be surprised if we go to state this year.”
I exchanged glances with Ashley and saw her mouth the word “chill” at me, but it was all I could do not to explode into a bazillion hot pieces. I guess I should be thankful for my expertise as a gymnast at times like that, because I simply walked away and acted like I was practicing a series of flips through the gym. Thankfully, it actually helped to relieve a little tension. Amber and Ashley gave me a nice little round of applause when I finished, and I put on my happy mask and gave them a flamboyant bow. I think I saw a slight scowl on Shawna’s face just then, like perhaps she was worried that Jordan Ferguson still had it, like maybe I was still something of a threat to her. And consequently a small, barely perceptible ripple of satisfaction ran through me.
I suppose moments like that fuel the teeniest bit of
hope in me. And I start to think that if I really applied myself I might be able to use my talents and charm and perseverance to get Timothy back. It encourages me to think that Shawna knows this too, and I think it worries her. But I refuse to make my move until I have a solid and foolproof plan.
But so far, I think the way I’m handling this is working for me. For one thing, I’ve garnered more support within the cheerleading circle. Everyone thinks I’m being a super good sport, and having Ashley solidly on my side hasn’t hurt anything either. And it all seems to be making Shawna increasingly nervous.
Like yesterday at lunch, after I’d managed for a whole day and a half to act like everything was totally cool, Shawna finally pulled me aside and said, “We’re okay, aren’t we, Jordan?”
I forced a smile to my lips and just shrugged. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
She laughed nervously. “Well, you know . . .”
“Hey,” I said in my most nonchalant tone, taking a quick glance around to make sure that no one else could hear me. “If you have to have sex in a bathtub just to win Timothy back, well, you just go, girl.” Then I slapped her on the back, laughed, and walked off to join Ashley. And I quickly told Ashley something completely unrelated but pretty funny, and we both threw back our heads and laughed. Ashley has the best laugh. It just rolls across the room like a bowling ball. Then I glanced back over to where Shawna was standing and gave her a look that suggested we had just enjoyed a joke about her.
I must admit I am slightly surprised by how mean I can be. I didn’t used to be like this. Even when I noticed the hurt look in Shawna’s eyes, I didn’t care. If anything, I was glad. And even though I pretty much know exactly how she feels, I still don’t feel sorry for her. Maybe I should be concerned that I could be turning into a totally selfish and heartless person. But mostly I’m not that worried, because what I did seems like nothing compared to what Shawna did to me. And, as Amber says, all is fair in love and war.
Speaking of love, Timothy did apologize to me on Monday. And I could tell he was really sorry too, like he’d been caught up in something that hadn’t been his real intention.
Deep Green: Color Me Jealous with Bonus Content Page 4
