by Amber Garza
“I know how your group works. I’ve already been on the receiving end of it once, so you can give up the little charade. I’m not biting. Find someone else to harass.” I push past him and run as fast as I can back into the house.
Once inside, I keep moving swiftly down the hallway. I can hear cartoons coming from the family room and surmise that Mom got the little rugrats to shut up by bribing them with TV. Clattering in the kitchen tells me that Mom is back to cooking dinner. I slip inside my room, my heart hammering in my chest. As I plop down on my bed, my gaze slides out the front window. Tripp is still standing on the sidewalk staring at my house with a puzzled look on his face. His eyes lock on me as if I have a freaking target on my back. My insides coiling into tiny knots, I reach up and pull down the blinds. Not until the last one locks into place do I finally allow myself to take a deep, steadying breath.
“Are you really wearing that today?” I laugh, as I slide into the passenger seat of Paige’s car early in the morning.
“Is that really what you’re wearing?” Paige blinks at me from behind her fake, thick black rimmed glasses. She looks like she came straight out of an eighties movie with her hair in pigtails, wearing lens-less glasses, striped tights and a short skirt. I glance down at my jeans and sweatshirt and shrug. At least she’s not afraid to have a style that’s her own. If I could wear wallpaper to blend in I would.
“I’m just messing with you, Paige.” I pull the seatbelt over my waist. “I’d give anything to have your guts.”
She pulls away from the curb, a smile passing over her lips. “So you’re saying that a person would have to be brave to dress like me?”
“Yes,” I answer truthfully.
“But I still look hot, right?”
I giggle. “Of course.”
“So, have you had anymore run-ins with Tripp?”
My pulse spikes. “How’d you know?”
Her head whips in my direction and the car veers a little. I reach out a steadying hand. “Careful. Keep your eyes on the road.”
“Yeah, yeah, ten and two, I got it,” she says quickly. “Now get back to Tripp. I didn’t know you’d talked to him again. I was just teasing you.”
“Oh.” I really wish I hadn’t opened my big mouth now. “Apparently he lives a few houses down from my stepdad. I was outside trying to avoid the children when Tripp came walking up with his dog.”
“How cute.” Paige lifts her brows.
“He was a cute dog. His name’s Bruiser.”
Paige turns to me with an incredulous look on her face. “Seriously? I was not talking about the dog. I was talking about how cute it is that Tripp came over to talk to you.”
“He didn’t. He was just walking his dog. He had no idea where I lived.”
“But he does now,” Paige points out.
“A lot of good it will do.” I press my face against the cool glass of the window and watch the world blur past in an array of hypnotizing muted greens and browns.
“What do you mean?”
“I told him to leave me alone.”
“Why’d you do that?” She turns to me again, almost driving into oncoming traffic.
“Paige,” I say gruffly. “Please watch where you’re driving.”
“Man, you are the worst back seat driver ever.” Paige blows out a breath, righting the vehicle. “Just relax. Now tell me why you would push away the guy you’ve been crushing on for years when he finally starts to notice you.”
“He’s not starting to notice me, Paige.” I rest my head against the vinyl seat. “He’s just messing with me.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “As much as I wish it weren’t true, I know that it must be. I was a part of that group once. They don’t let anyone in unless you are one of them. Trust me, this is just some kind of sick game. I’m absolutely sure of it.”
“I’m sorry, Hads.” Paige’s voice softens.
“Don’t be. I don’t need them anyway,” I say, trying to sound braver than I feel. I sit forward as Paige turns into the parking lot, relieved to have made it to school unscathed. After Paige parks, I grab my backpack from near my feet and hoist it up. My muscles buckle under the weight of the heavy books. I pop open the car door and step outside, flinging the incredibly heavy backpack over my shoulder. Paige bounds out of the car, her pigtails swaying around her face.
We pass through the crowd of rowdy students, and when we reach the hallway Paige pats my arm. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
“Yeah, see you then.” It sucks that Paige and I have no classes together. I turn away from her and head toward my locker. As I near it, I spot something stuck to the front. Squinting, I reach my hand forward. An envelope is sticking out of the grates. Curious, I tear it open. When I do, a wadded up piece of binder paper falls out. I cringe. This must be it. This is the big joke Tripp was prepping for yesterday. With trembling fingers I open the remaining piece of paper nestled inside, and my gaze connects with the words.
Hadley – No matter what you think, I am sorry about yesterday. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but I thought I’d offer you a chance to even the score. Feel free to take your best shot. Tripp
I smile in spite of myself. Making sure that no one is looking, I bend down and retrieve the balled up piece of paper. Not that I’ll ever use it, but for some reason I don’t want to let it go just yet.
FOUR
TRIPP
My muscles ache as I turn the steering wheel on my car and head down the street toward my house. Sweat slides down my shoulder blades and beads along my forehead. Reaching up with my free arm, I swipe my forehead with the back of my hand. Then I brush my slimy palm over the soft fabric of my gym shorts in an effort to dry it. Practice went late today, and coach road my ass the entire time. Frustrated, I let out a groan. I wish I didn’t even have to be on the stupid team. It’s not like I even like football. However, it doesn’t matter. I don’t have a choice. I never do.
As my vehicle approaches Hadley’s house, I glance out the window. She's in the driveway with her head down, so she doesn’t see me. I know I should just keep driving past and ignore her. But I’m curious if she got my note. More importantly, I’m wondering if she’s still angry with me or if my peace offering softened her at all.
Lowering my foot on the brake, I slow the car and roll down my window. Sticking my head out, I say, “Hey, Hadley.”
Her head pops up. Pressing her lips together, she offers a tight wave.
Yep, clearly she still has a chip on her shoulder. “Did you get my note?”
She nods wordlessly.
Man, this girl can sure hold a grudge. Even so, I press on. “So should I be scared?”
“Of what?” She asks, still standing in the same spot.
“Of you getting even,” I answer with a smile. Maybe if I keep joking with her I can wear her down.
“No.” She shakes her head, her expression hard. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m not anything like you or your friends. I don’t humiliate people for entertainment.”
Her words hit me like a sucker punch. “Hadley, is that what you think? That I threw that paper in your face on purpose?”
“The only thing I think is that your car’s in my way.” She reaches for the door handle of the car in her driveway.
“It was an accident. I told you that.”
“I know what you said. I’ve also had experience with guys like you so forgive me if I don’t totally believe you.” She yanks the car door open, and gives me a stern glance. “Now can you please move your car? I have to run an errand for my mom.”
I nod, confused by her icy demeanor. Does she really have such a low opinion of me? It shouldn’t bother me. It’s not like Hadley’s one of my friends. In fact, I never even really noticed her until this week. But for some reason it does. I don’t want her to think I’m capable of being such a jerk. However, it’s obvious that there’s nothing I can say right now to convince her. So, I face forward and return
my foot to the gas pedal. Without looking back, I drive toward my house.
When I pull up to the curb I notice Dad’s car in the driveway and fear grips me. I know he’s going to ask me why practice ran late. I can lie and tell him everything went fine, but Dad is friends with Coach Russell so eventually he’ll find out the truth. And the punishment will be even greater then. Steeling myself for what’s to come, I turn off the car and step outside. The autumn air is cool and feels good against my damp skin. I grab my backpack off the seat, and then head up toward the house.
The two story tract home looms above me reminding me of one of those haunted houses in the movies. I’m sure to everyone else my house looks the same as all the others, with its large picture windows and plants out front. But that’s because they don’t live here. Before I can unlock the door, it flings open.
“Where have you been?” Dad bellows. His imposing frame fills the doorway, his eyes are bloodshot, and the vein in his forehead throbs beneath his dark hair. He wears jeans and a t-shirt, and his muscles bulge under the fabric. His thick fingers clench in his palm.
Terror snakes around my heart squeezing hard, but I stay perfectly still. It will just upset him more if I act skittish. I clear my throat, praying that my voice comes out strong and sure. “At practice.”
“Why did it go so late? You weren’t screwing around again, were you?”
I keep my head steady, my eyes trained on his. “No, sir.” A flash of red hair and pale white skin coupled with the scent of vanilla reveals that Mom must be near. Not as if that gives me comfort. She’s more afraid of Dad than I am. The days of hoping that she'll rescue me have long passed.
“Good.” He slaps me on the shoulder, but I don’t flinch even though it stings. It isn’t meant to. That was just a good-natured hit, not meant to inflict harm. Believe me, I know the difference. Dad guides me inside and I follow him, grateful that I seem to have appeased him for now. “Coach Russell assures me it’s going to be a great season. Don’t do anything to screw that up, son. You know when I played high school football our team won the championship every year.”
“I know, Dad.” I’ve heard the story so many times it literally makes me sick to hear it again.
“And Coach Russell also told me that Sonya Ortega has had her eye on you.” Dad winks in a way that turns my stomach.
“Yes, I actually plan to ask her to the fall dance.”
“Well, what you are waiting for, son? She’s the perfect girl for you to date.”
I nod, knowing that I’ll do what he says. Besides, I suppose Sonya’s not that bad. She may be really high maintenance and kind of bitch sometimes, but she is hot, and she can be sweet.
Mom glides into the room, wringing her hands. She lives in a state of nervousness, I swear. Even so, I can tell that she’s relieved for now. “Tripp, why don’t you get washed up for dinner?” Her voice is small and shaky. Her red hair is pulled back in a severe ponytail, and dark circles ring her eyes. I’ve seen pictures of her from when she was younger, and she looks completely different. Sometimes I wonder what Mom would’ve turned out like if she had married someone else.
“Okay,” I say obediently. With my head down, I bound the stairs. Once I reach the top, I heave a sigh of relief. But I know I can’t afford to let down my guard. The night isn’t over. I’m not out of the woods yet.
After depositing my backpack into my room and grabbing some clean clothes, I head across the hall to the bathroom. I turn on the shower and step inside, allowing the steam to rise around me like a plume of smoke. Hot water beats down on my back, sliding over my skin and washing away the dirt and sweat. While I lather up, my mind wanders to Hadley. I picture her pale skin, her long brown hair, and her light caramel colored eyes that reveal so much. It’s those eyes that haunt me. I think they’re the reason I can’t get her off my mind.
I shower quickly, knowing that Dad doesn’t like dawdling. After sliding the curtain open, the rings squeaking on the metal rod, I step out causing water to pool at my feet on the spongy blue mat. While drying off, I glance up at my reflection in the mirror and then I know why Hadley’s eyes are so familiar; because they hold in them the same sadness I see in mine.
FIVE
HADLEY
There is nothing stuck to my locker when I reach it in the morning. Not that I expected anything. I think Tripp got the hint last night. After entering my combination, I pop the metal door open and yank out a couple of books. Propping my backpack up on my knee, I deposit them inside. A group of boys walk toward me, and I know exactly who they are. When I dare a peek at Tripp his eyes lock with mine for an instant. Then return his attention back to his friends. He continues on without acknowledging me at all.
I guess I’m back to being invisible. My chest tightens, and it surprises me. This is what I wanted, right? I mean, I’m the one who told him to leave me alone — multiple times, in fact. I can’t get upset because he listened. Shoving my locker closed, I push my arms through the straps of my backpack. No, it’s better this way. It’s not like Tripp and I were ever going to be friends anyway.
With my head down, I hurry to my first period class. I keep my gaze trained on the toe of my shoes, but in my peripheral vision I see students whisking past. The scent of deodorant, shampoo and cologne linger under my nose. Shoes squeak on the slick floors, and loud voices reverberate off the walls. The noise is jumbled like a puzzle that's been tossed on the floor, and at first I can't pick up anything that makes sense. But then a voice emerges from the others, and I freeze at the mention of a familiar name.
“Tripp finally asked you out, huh?” A girl speaks from over my shoulder.
“About time,” a nasally voice responds. “I thought he was going to ask me out ages ago. Who knew he was so shy.”
My shoulders tense when I recognize the voice of my former best friend. Even without turning around I can picture Sonya’s long sleek black hair, her tanned complexion and rail thin body. Sonya and I were friends before she became Miss Popularity and decided to trample me in her quest to climb the social ladder.
“Maybe he was just intimidated by you,” another girl supplies.
I keep my head down and walk even faster. My stomach rolls at their conversation. I can’t believe Tripp is dating Sonya. Of course this only succeeds in confirming my thoughts about him. Clearly he wasn’t interested in becoming my friend. He’s one of them, and that’s all he’ll ever be. He doesn’t feel bad for throwing paper in my face. I know better. The kids in that group don’t feel bad for inflicting pain on others. In fact, I think it's safe to say that they thrive on it. There may have been moments when I wanted to cave; when I wanted to believe that he was genuinely reaching out to me, but it’s very obvious that isn’t the case. As I duck into my class, I think about how glad I am that I stood my ground when it came to Tripp. I’ve worked hard to steer clear of Sonya, and I have no desire to be back under her radar.
Afternoon sun beats down on my back, making me grateful for the fall breeze. The street is serene, and I marvel at how much quieter it is to live in a suburban neighborhood than in an apartment complex. Sitting cross-legged in Rob’s front yard, I hunch over my sketchpad. My pencil moves quickly across the white page in choppy strokes leaving gray trails in its wake. Peering up at the tree in front of me, I study the curve of its trunk, the bushiness of its leaves. I memorize every angle and nuance. Pressing my pencil back down, I do my best to transfer its likeness to the paper. A gentle breeze kicks up my hair and it whips into my face, obscuring my vision. Tucking a few strands behind my ear, I continue drawing. Grass tickles my bare feet, and I’m grateful for the jeans that protect my legs from the itchy blades. As I lean down to add the final touches, the sound of a dog barking startles me.
Bruiser bounds in my direction, his leash trailing behind him like a skittish insect. I shove my sketch pad aside as he leaps on my legs.
“Sorry about that,” Tripp calls, running in Bruiser’s direction. “Sometimes he’s too strong for me.�
��
“It’s okay.” I rub my hand over Bruiser’s furry head, his hair sticking to my palms and shedding on my legs.
Tripp lunges forward and grabs hold of the leash. “I guess he really likes you.”
I nod, Tripp’s proximity making me uncomfortable.
His gaze lands on my picture. “What’s that?”
“Nothing.” Uncomfortable, I smother it with my hand. “What are you, like, stalking me or something?”
“No.” Tripp runs a hand over his brown hair, causing his t-shirt to ride up and expose his naval. Blushing, I avert my gaze.
“It’s just that you keep coming over here,” I point out, still staring at the lawn.
“Hey, I’ve been walking my dog this route for years. Long before you lived here.” As if on cue, Bruiser nudges me with his nose. I wipe the wetness off on the thigh of my jeans.
“There isn’t another way you can take him?” I ask.
“Well, you know, you don’t have to sit outside all afternoon.” Tripp drops down beside me, still holding Bruiser’s leash. I scoot away from him, not appreciating what he’s insinuating. “It’s almost like you’re waiting for me to come by.”
I roll my eyes. Is he for real? “You know, contrary to popular belief, everything in life doesn’t revolve around you, Tripp Bauer.” I scoop up my sketch pad and pencil and stand up. “I came outside to be alone, certainly not to run into you.”
Tripp jumps up, wiping the grass off the back of his jeans. The motion draws my attention to his rock hard butt, and that angers me further. Bruiser barks. “It was just a joke.”
I don’t bother looking at him. I just keep walking back toward my house. “You should get going. Bruiser’s getting antsy.”
“Hadley, wait.” Tripp jogs behind me. His scent that is a combination of woodsy soap, minty shampoo and leather lingers in the air, causing my pulse to spike. I can hear Bruiser panting next to him. “Can we start over?”
Annoyed, I turn around. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re ever going to be friends. Besides, shouldn’t you be with Sonya right now?”
