Jayden: ¿decepcionado?—disappointed
Mike: Good choice. But the answer was desolado—heartbroken
I continued to get emojis throughout the morning. And each time I gave an answer, he told me I was wrong—even though some of his emotions were a bit of a stretch, and most of them weren’t even words we’d learned. The heart eyes emoji meant infatuated, the emoji with a thermometer in its mouth meant lovesick, the drooling emoji meant attracted, the sleeping emoji meant dreamy (not to be confused with dreaming—but that a person was dreamy) and the emoji that’s obviously sending a hug meant desirable. I don’t even think desirable is an emotion.
At lunch, I got another text while we were eating. I looked up to find Mike grinning at me from across the cafeteria. This was bound to be absurd. The text had an emoji whose mouth was in an O shape, and its eyes had swirls. Any sane person would have guessed something like dizzy, or confused, or even stressed. But Mike had proven over the course of the morning that he was far from sane. The obvious answers would all be wrong.
“When you see this emoji, what emotion do you think of?” I asked Becca, showing her my screen.
“Hmmm, the first thing that comes to mind is insomnia.”
“See, I think that’s a reasonable answer. Mike has been quizzing me all morning on emotions in Spanish, but he’s not being very practical with his choices. Look at these other ones, then tell me what the swirly eye emoji means, according to him.” I handed my phone to Becca, so she could scroll through the texts. When she was done, she handed it back, deep in thought.
“He seems to have a love theme going.”
“It would appear so, and there are no love emotions that match this emoji.”
“Why do you think he picked the theme of love?” Becca murmured.
“Focus!” I snapped my fingers in front of her face.
“I mean, don’t you find it odd? Do you think there’s a subliminal message in his literal message? Does Mike looove you?” Becca drew out the word love in a singsong voice. My cheeks heated in embarrassment.
“I find a lot of things Mike does to be odd. Who knows why he’s stuck on this theme. Maybe he loooves you.” I imitated Becca. “You’re the one he’s dating.”
“No, he’s taking me on a date. That doesn’t mean we’re dating. You guys spend way more time together than he and I do. And when we talk or text, it’s never flirty like this.”
“You guys text?”
“All the time. Are you jealous?” Becca smirked. She was trying to get a rise out of me. It was almost working, too.
“Psh, no. I just didn’t realize that you guys were… Whatever. Stick to the task. I need an answer, and you’re not helping.” I was dismissive because I didn’t want her to know that I was a little jealous. Heck, I didn’t want myself to know that I was jealous.
Becca looked at Mike, who was still watching us, and gave him a little wave with her fingers. Then she reached over and tapped on my phone screen. “I happen to think there’s a hidden meaning somewhere in here. You should test it by sending him the sappiest emotion you can think of. Then see how he reacts.” She’d gone from antagonizing to conspiratorial in a flash.
“But that’ll give him the wrong impression,” I argued.
“Will it, though?” Becca eyed me suspiciously. And…she was back to antagonizing.
“For heaven’s sake. Will you cut it out and think of a dang word!” My voice got pitchy.
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much…”
“Becca!” I growled.
“Calm down, lover girl. I’m on it.” Becca pulled out her own phone and googled emotions associated with love. “I’m seeing lots of good stuff. Depends on the direction you want to take. You could go sultry, with a word like passionate.”
“No, that’s what he wants. Pick something romance novel cheesy.”
“How about tenderness? Longing or fondness? Oh, wait! What about yearning? Who yearns nowadays? That’s as cheesy as it gets.”
“None of those sound like emotions, though. Not to mention that I don’t know how to say any of them in Spanish.”
“You don’t need to know. That’s why God created Siri,” Becca said, totally serious.
“Becca, God didn’t create Siri.”
“How do you know?”
I knew she would ask that, so I was already looking for the answer. “Because Google says so.” I held up my phone to show her my search results.
“Well, God created Google, and that’s where Siri gets all her information, so it’s practically the same thing.”
“None of what you just said is anywhere close to true.”
“Potato-Potahto,” Becca said dismissively. I rolled my eyes at her, but she completely ignored me. “I got it! How about smitten?”
I considered her suggestion for a second before agreeing. “That one’s good.” Then I pulled up my English to Spanish translator on God’s own personal search engine and typed in the word smitten—translation herido. But before I could respond, I received another text.
Mike: Any day now…
Jayden: Am I correct in assuming that if I pick an emotion which doesn’t fall into your obvious theme, you’ll tell me I’m wrong?
Mike: That’s a safe assumption.
Jayden: herido
I watched Mike read my word. He did a double take in our direction, then typed furiously on his phone. But a new text didn’t arrive. Maybe he didn’t know how to say smitten, either, and he was checking my answer. Eat that, oh great Spanish expert.
Mike: ¿herido? Are you sure?
Jayden: YES. Is being smitten not lovey-dovey enough for you?
“What did you say?” Becca asked half a second after I pushed SEND. “Mike’s laughing hysterically.”
“Nothing funny.” I was confused.
“Well, he thinks it is.”
Mike: For you, herido is the epitome of lovey-dovey.
Jayden: What’s that supposed to mean?
Mike: Nothing. Give me an action.
“He wants a verb now. What kind of things would you do when you’re smitten?”
“Swoon?” Becca suggested.
“Nobody swoons.”
“Hmmm. Daydream?”
“Nope. I mean, yes, that’s perfect, but he’ll read into it. Or at least give me crap about it.”
Becca nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’d give you crap about it, too. Still might.” I glared at her, and she laughed. “How about the flutters?”
“What?”
“Whenever I’m smitten by someone, I get the flutters. My heart flutters, my stomach flutters, my eyelashes even flutter when I look at him. Everything flutters.”
“The flutters, huh?” I typed to flutter into my translator, then texted the answer to Mike.
Jayden: aletear
Mike: LOL. Do you do this often when you’re smitten with someone?
Jayden: I guess. Becca says she does it all the time. I think it’s pretty normal for girls.
Mike: (laughing emoji with tears) Okay, now put them in a sentence. And stop cheating. You’re using the translator on your phone. If you cheat, I’ll know.
Jayden: How could you possibly know if I’m using my translator? You’re on the other side of the room.
Mike: I’ll tell you later
“Dang it! Mike’s too good.” I grumbled.
“He’s good?”
“Yes. I hate it when he’s right. Somehow, he knows I’m using the translator. If I try to make a sentence with my limited understanding of Spanish, I’ll do it wrong, and he’ll laugh at me. But if I put a sentence into the translator, he’ll know I cheated, because it’ll be correct. I’ll either be mocked or scolded.”
“Then pick your poison,” Becca replied unsympathetically.
I sighed and spoke softly to myself, racking my brain for the most basic sentence I could make. “I am smitten, and my stomach flutters. Yo soy means I am; at least I know that much. Smitten translated to herido, and is
y, my is mi. Stomach…stomach…I think it’s estómago. If not, that’s close enough. Flutters was aletear. No, wait. That was to flutter. Crap. I don’t know how to conjugate aletear.”
“Are you okay over there?” Becca asked. “Talking to yourself is never a good sign.”
“Shhhh! I’m thinking,” I replied, then kept talking to myself. “How can I phrase it so I say to flutter and it’s still correct? I am smitten and my stomach starts to flutter. Okay, we conjugated to start last week. Comenzar. My stomach is an object, so I think I use it starts, which is comienza. Here goes nothing…”
Jayden: Yo soy herido y mi estómago comienza aletear.
I pushed SEND and waited for the verdict. I peered at Mike as he pulled up my message and grinned. At least he wasn’t ROFLing, so I must not have screwed everything up.
Jayden: How bad is it?
Mike: It was a valiant effort. At least you tried it on your own, which is important.
Mike: And I learned how cute you are when you’re talking to yourself like a lunatic.
Jayden: (tongue sticking out emoji) Leave me alone.
Mike: I’ll see you in fifth. (winky emoji)
MIKE
I entered Coach’s classroom, and Jayden practically pounced on me. “Are you going to tell me what was so funny?” she asked.
“I don’t think there’s time to go over all the things you did wrong before the bell rings.” I looked up at the clock and then back at her, shrugging my shoulders. She was giving me yet another Jayden death glare. “I think it might have to wait until after school,” I teased her, but I wasn’t lying. I knew exactly what she did wrong, and it was highly amusing, thus it deserved a proper explanation.
“By the way, you should talk to your optometrist and see if he can install lasers in those bad boys.” I pointed between her eyes. “Then your death glares could literally kill me. But since they only imply imminent death, I’m not intimidated by them. As-is, they’re completely useless.” I thought my jab was pretty good, but for some reason, she only grinned at me. “What’s so funny?”
“We’re in a room full of people, and you said optometrist instead of eye doctor.” Her grin widened, but I wasn’t making the connection. “You also said install, rather than put. Plus, you used the words literally, imply, and imminent, none of which are Mike-approved slang. Come to think of it, you didn’t use any slang.”
Shoot, she was right. I hadn’t even been paying attention. I was just being me. The other me—Jayden’s me. I had to be careful. The more comfortable I got around her, the more I was likely to slip up. At least this time I could pretend I did it on purpose and earn some brownie points. “You wanted me to tone it down, right? I was only following instructions.”
“No, you weren’t. I caught you red-handed, admit it.” Jayden was so thrilled about busting me that the excitement was practically radiating from her. Her smile was infectious, and I tried not to return it, but I couldn’t.
“Never,” I answered with a grin.
“Never what?” Becca asked, sitting down.
Time to turn it back on. “Never let Jay-dawg school you in Spanish. She be wreckin’ that stuff. For really, yo.”
“For really?” Jayden asked me, in mock seriousness. “Not just fo’ realz, but for really, yo? That’s like, wicked hard core, dawg.”
She sounded completely absurd. And it was so freaking adorable that I wanted to reach over and pinch her cheeks. Or squeeze her in a giant hug. Or plant a big, fat kiss on those cute little lips that were saying the most preposterous words. Becca must have agreed with me—on the absurd part, not the kissing part—because after she picked her jaw up off the floor, she dropped to it. She was laughing so hard she couldn’t stand.
“Ow, my side!” Becca complained through her peals of laughter, clutching her stomach. Tears were streaming steadily down her face. “Jay, that was so funny.”
Jayden switched to a more ditzy-sounding voice. “Just funny? Or was it like…totes hype? Was it lit? Because I kinda felt like it was lit. I’m talking über-lit. Or maybe it was the goat. You know how much I like to keep it 100.” I was amused by how much slang she’d just rattled off. I didn’t think she had it in her. Or even knew any.
“Stop! It hurts,” Becca bellowed from the ground, where she was now laying on her side, doubled over.
Mr. Thompson walked in, took one look at Becca, and grew instantly worried. “Is everything okay back there?”
Becca popped up, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Sorry, Mr. T. Yes, everything is fine. Except I’m laughing so hard I’m about to pee my pants. Can I go to the bathroom really quick?”
Once Mr. Thompson realized that everyone was healthy, though a bit slap-happy, the corner of his mouth tipped up slightly. “That’s fine, Becca. Make it quick.”
“I will,” Becca agreed as she ran to snatch the hall pass from his desk.
“Miss Adams?” He stopped her, and she glanced over her shoulder. “Please return composed and ready to learn.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, bolting out the door.
“Gracias.”
“¡De nada!” She practically yelled from the hall, and the class giggled.
“All right. That’s enough. Everyone settle down, por favor. I have your quizzes from yesterday to hand back.”
Jayden slumped in her seat, and I leaned over her shoulder to whisper in her ear. “I’m impressed,” I said.
“You liked that, did you?” Jayden asked. She chuckled and quickly turned to face me while she spoke. But she moved so fast that I didn’t have time to pull away. Which meant that her mouth ended up dangerously close to mine. My pulse raced. Why couldn’t this happen when we were alone? Instead, I had to have a kiss-worthy moment in the middle of class…where I couldn’t act on it. Not that I wanted to act on it.
“Oh, sorry.” Jayden pulled back, her cheeks blushing a bright pink. “I wasn’t trying to take off your nose.”
“Yeah, I kind of need that,” I replied. She laughed awkwardly, and it was clear that I needed to break the tension. Whatever this sudden pull between us was, it must not have been as strong for her as it was for me. “Tell you what. I’ll forgive you—if you got a good grade on your quiz.”
Jayden scoffed. “That’s not fair. I should get your forgiveness regardless.”
“Maybe I’m confident that you did well.”
“Maybe you’re too optimistic,” Jayden replied as Mr. Thompson walked up to us. He set my quiz in front of me, facedown. I peeked at it, even though I didn’t need to. Then he set Jayden’s quiz in front of her.
“Nice work, Miss Valdez.” He smiled at her. “Whatever you guys are doing, keep doing it. I knew matching you two up was a good idea. I should get nominated for teacher of the year.” Mr. Thompson actually reached over his shoulder to pat his own back as he left us.
Jayden still hadn’t looked at her paper. “Aren’t you going to check?” I asked.
“I can’t. I feel like I did so horribly.”
“He just told you it was nice work.”
“I know. But at this point, anything higher than a C is good work. And I don’t want another B minus. I need at least a B plus, or it won’t even make a dent in my overall grade.”
“Then look at your quiz and see if you got it.”
“Uh-uh.” Jayden bit her lip in worry and shook her head no.
“Hand it over,” I demanded.
Surprisingly, she gave me her quiz. I pulled it up to see the score and fought not to grin. I slapped on a somber face.
“How bad is it?” she asked.
“It doesn’t meet your unusually high standards. But it does meet your low ones.” I smiled and set the quiz faceup in front of me.
“A minus!” Jayden squealed. Then she leaned over my desk to hug me. She’d never hugged me before, and I was disappointed to have the desk running interference. Becca came back and witnessed our little display of affection.
“Good news?” Becca asked. Jayden snatched t
he paper from my desk and turned around to show it off. “Jay! That’s great!” Becca said with excitement. Then they hugged for real, and I felt a prick of jealousy, which was stupid because it’s not like Becca was trying to steal her from me. What was I thinking? Jayden wasn’t even mine to steal. She wasn’t my anything. And I didn’t really like her. All these sudden, random thoughts of kissing were because we’d been spending so much time together. And I hadn’t kissed anyone in a while.
I tuned out for the rest of class, trying to think of an available girl to keep my mind off Jayden. A meaningless make-out would redirect my confused hormones. The next thing I knew, the class was clapping and whooping and whistling. I shook my head and came back to reality, trying to figure out what I’d missed. The bell rang, and Jayden looked back at me. “Aren’t you excited? I know you don’t need a break, but you could at least act excited for the rest of us incompetents.”
“Excited for what?”
“You didn’t hear him?”
“I guess I fell asleep for a second,” I lied. “What did he say?”
“That he’s giving us a homecoming present since we were all getting trunky and useless anyway. He’s postponing the quiz until next Monday, and we have no homework for the rest of the week.” Jayden grinned, and the crowd going wild made much more sense.
“That’s cool of him and lucky for you. Especially after all your text messages today. You could use a little more practice.” Jayden wrinkled her nose at me. “Too bad he’s not canceling practice,” I added.
I followed the girls out the door, and once we were safely on our way, Jayden gave me a sly look. “You know, if you didn’t run today, Mr. Thompson would never know.”
I pretended to be shocked by gasping loudly with my mouth wide open and slapping a hand to my chest. “Jayden Valdez. Are you suggesting that I cheat? Because I’m not a cheater…unlike some people I know.”
Jayden held up her hands. “Just a thought. And I’m not a cheater, when it matters.”
Perfectly Misunderstood (The Perfect Series Book 4) Page 13
