by Mary Strand
Perfect.
As I grinned at her, I noticed that Ms. Ciccarelli hadn’t shown up yet, which was probably why Chelsea stormed to the back of the room. She slammed her hand on top of my desk, making my pens fly.
“Not cool, Chelsea.” I glanced around the room, seeing a half dozen faces laughing at Chelsea, not me. At least, I hoped so. “What’s your problem today?”
“Same as every day. You. You know I sit here. I thought you got over that.”
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Ms. Ciccarelli walk into the room and softly close the door, all the while zeroing in on Chelsea. Pasting an angelic look on my face, I bent down to pick my pens up off the floor.
Pens retrieved, I sat up straight again and arranged them in a line. Slowly, neatly, just to drive Chelsea nuts.
She knocked them off my desk with a sweep of her hand. “I said, I thought you got over that.”
“And I thought, Chelsea, you’d learned not to create disturbances in my class.” Ms. Ciccarelli was right behind Chelsea, who jumped at the sound of her voice. “Luckily for you, we’re starting extemporaneous speeches today. I don’t want you to miss it, so I can’t send you to Mr. Paymar’s office. I’ll let you speak first, though.”
From the look on Chelsea’s face, she’d rather go to Mr. Paymar’s office. Which was weird, really. What was the big deal? Extemporaneous meant no preparation. In other words, no homework. It didn’t get any better than that.
Chelsea shot me a glare oozing with hatred, then one at Drew that wasn’t much nicer. How did she manage to keep the guy?
She finally looked at Ms. Ciccarelli, having saved all her saccharine for her. “I’m sorry, really. It’s just that I had all my stuff on that desk, but when I had to go to the bathroom, Lydia threw all my books on the floor and stole my desk.”
I blinked as Ms. Ciccarelli’s gaze narrowed on me. Chelsea had to be smarter than I thought to come up with a whopper like that. Of course, a mealworm had to be smarter than I’d given Chelsea credit for.
“Lydia? Is that true?”
I rolled my eyes. “Not even remotely. I was the first one here today, and Chelsea showed up ten seconds before you did. I could be wrong, but I think that was just Chelsea’s first attempt at extemporaneous speech.”
Several kids laughed, but Drew had a pained look on his face and Chelsea clenched her long, hot-pink nails into her fists.
“She’s lying, Ms. Ciccarelli, like she always does. It’s probably why she got sent to reform school.” Chelsea smirked at me before giving Drew a disgustingly lewd look that probably promised a blowjob if he played this right. “Drew, it’s like I said, right? Lydia stole my seat?”
Drew glanced from Chelsea to me, then finally up at Ms. Ciccarelli, looking like he wanted to barf. He also looked like he was about to rat me out in exchange for sexual favors from Chelsea. Talk about making a mistake. I’d crush him like a bug if he did.
I twisted sideways, catching his eye before straightening my shoulders for maximum cleavage. The bead of sweat on his upper lip hadn’t been there a minute ago. I touched the tip of my tongue to the corner of my mouth. Casually.
Drew finally dragged his gaze away from me and looked at Ms. Ciccarelli, who was rolling her eyes. “I—”
Ms. Ciccarelli held up a hand. “Chelsea, find a different seat. Class, although we’re focusing this week on extemporaneous speech, I think Chelsea and Lydia have just given us excellent examples of how to use body language in a debate to sway the judges.”
She muttered something else under her breath as she headed to the front of the room. With a final look of disgust at both Drew and me, Chelsea stomped behind Ms. Ciccarelli to a desk at the front of the room. Everyone else just laughed.
So I’d won the battle, but was Drew the spoils of war?
Heaven help me.
Chapter 9
Poor Lydia’s situation must, at best, be bad enough; but that it was no worse, she had need to be thankful.
— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume III, Chapter Seven
By the end of third-period Political Science, I was almost ready to admit that Jane and Liz had been right: no one was giving me shit about Friday night.
Just to be safe, though, I cruised into the cafeteria and through the lunch line in record time. Kirk and Tess were already at my usual table, at opposite ends, but I beat everyone else. Hauling up short, I debated whether I should’ve taken more time getting here.
“Lydia.” Kirk waved at me, maybe because he’d spotted the pinched look on Tess’s face. “C’mon over. Hey, how was that thing for your parents?”
“Totally lame.” I rolled my eyes as I set down my tray and took the seat next to Kirk. “My sisters like to spring things on unsuspecting victims.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” Kirk glanced at Tess, who was studiously avoiding both of us. “But it’s cool. Heather played with us and turned out fine. She’s really—”
“Hey, that’s great.” I didn’t want to hear what Heather was, including way better than me at guitar. So was everyone. “Like I said, I was sorry I couldn’t make it.”
“Do you still want to play with us?”
“I’m, uh, not sure.” My stomach churned, and I hadn’t even touched a bite of my beef-and-bean burrito. I wanted to talk to Kirk alone. Like, seriously alone. Tess already made that impossible, and I spotted Amber heading to our table. “If Heather is playing with you guys, I don’t need to.”
“You still get first shot at it. Hey, I’m sorry I said you didn’t play guitar. I don’t know why Jer— I mean, why someone would’ve said it.”
I sat up straight the moment he started to say “Jer.” Jeremy said it? And Kirk couldn’t connect the dots and realize that Jeremy heard it directly from Cat?
“Weird, huh?” I shrugged. “Yeah, I started playing years ago.” At age four, on a toy guitar Mom bought for Cat and me in Mexico. “It’s probably why Mary started playing.”
So much for a serious chat with Kirk. I was lying my ass off, and Cat could bust me so easily. Oh, wait. She already had.
“So do you wanna practice with us? We’re getting together on Thursday.”
Thursday. Not exactly the six months from now I’d been hoping for. “Seriously, it’s cool if Heather plays with you. I mean, she already did. It’s not her fault I couldn’t make it on Friday night.”
“But she—”
“She’s probably halfway decent at guitar, and the truth is that I’ve started thinking about getting back into—” I glanced around the cafeteria, trying to look casual, as my brain scrambled for an excuse. I sent up frantic prayers for anything.
Kirk’s voice interrupted my frantic search. “Into what?”
Finally, it hit me. My excuse had to be the definition of “anything,” which meant I had to work on my prayers. “Gymnastics. That’s what I used to do.”
Not on Woodbury High’s team, but for a couple of months before I left for Wisconsin Dells, and for a few days after I arrived—before I got canned just because Bunny Fletcher’s husband didn’t believe my boobs weren’t assisted by padded bras, and I decided to show him.
Stupid move, but gymnastics had been fun.
“Gymnastics? Are you joking? Aren’t those girls—”
Kirk glanced at my chest, and probably at the slight gut I’d acquired at Shangri-La. But at least he looked. I’d started to wonder if he even noticed my body. Or me. Or anything other than Amber.
“I’m pretty good at gymnastics. The equipment, at least.” The floor exercises, not so much, but I hadn’t needed to be good at them for the circus.
Kirk kept staring at my boobs, as if he was lost in thought and the thought was focused exclusively on them. For some reason, it annoyed me. I touched his chin, returning his eyes to mine.
“But I wouldn’t mind catching your band practice, if that’s okay. Even if I don’t play guitar with you.”
Kirk hesitated a moment, then grinned—until Amber slammed her t
ray on the table across from him. “Absolutely. We’re always glad to have you.”
“We are?” Amber practically spit on the table.
“Yeah.” Kirk aimed the same grin at Amber he’d just shared with me. “Lydia has always been part of the gang.”
I glanced down at my untouched burrito. I’d always been the leader of the gang, along with Kirk, but I’d left for a year. Nothing good had happened while I’d been gone.
Looking up again, I caught Amber batting her eyelashes at Kirk as if I wasn’t even there.
So this was going to take a little work. But I worked at what mattered to me in life, and Kirk mattered. Because he was supposed to be mine.
Thanks to the spare key I’d made years ago, not long after Dad bought the Jeep but refused to let me drive just because I didn’t have a permit, I nabbed the Jeep after school and took off without Cat.
She’d probably get a ride home from Jeremy, and I might get grounded for a week, but it felt good. Besides, I could still talk Mom out of just about anything. Just not quite everything, as I realized when Dad moved me into Mary’s old room.
I drove straight home, then waited ten minutes and called Mom to say I’d looked everywhere for Cat and couldn’t find her after school, so I’d finally taken the Jeep. She was in the middle of preparing for a divorce trial tomorrow, so she just murmured the right things.
“Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure she’s all right.”
She didn’t think to ask where I’d found a key to the Jeep.
When Cat got home fifteen minutes later, accompanied by a slamming front door, her screams were deafening.
“Lydia, you are so busted! You know you can’t drive the Jeep. I get to drive it.”
Grinning, I stroked Boris’s mangy fur and felt like purring as loudly as he was. I barely even blinked when the door to my room crashed open and banged against the wall.
I smiled sweetly at Cat. “Was there something you wanted?”
Her glare could start a bonfire. “You stole the Jeep.”
“Like I told Mom, I couldn’t find you. What’s the big deal? Couldn’t you get a ride home with Jeremy?”
Her eyes turned into slits, reminding me even more of a snake. “I’m sure you know perfectly well I couldn’t.”
I did? What was she talking about?
“Why? He didn’t have band practice today.” Unless Kirk was hiding stuff from me, which was always a possibility. “The next one is on Thursday.”
“And you know this because—?”
“Because he told me. Duh.” Kirk had definitely said Thursday. Why did Cat look so shocked?
“He didn’t tell me.”
I shrugged. “Last time I checked, he didn’t talk to you much. You guys aren’t too cozy, are you? Not since—”
I broke off when I saw the pained look on Cat’s face. But how was this news? Cat herself had told me how Kirk and Tess talked her into singing with the band, then got a ton of kids to laugh at her. It didn’t sound like Kirk, but Cat’s voice was a little flat.
“You don’t know anything about it.”
I frowned, not having a clue what she meant. She’d told me all about it in half a dozen emails, hadn’t she? What didn’t I know?
“So if you didn’t get a ride home from Jeremy, how’d you get home? Don’t tell me you walked.”
She looked flustered and pissed but not sweaty. Besides, her feet would be dead if she tried to walk more than a block or two in those heels.
“Kirk gave me a ride.”
Kirk?
My hands clenched, but I didn’t realize until Boris screeched and leaped off my bed that I might be strangling him. Partly to avoid meeting Cat’s gaze, I leaned over the side of my bed to find Boris cowering beneath it. I held out a hand, but he didn’t budge. “Sorry, dude.”
His bright-green eyes glared at me, even after I gave him a little finger wave.
“You actually like that cat?”
My head jerked up, and my body followed. I leaned back against the wall. Casually. “Boris? You must be kidding.”
Cat glared at me, her own green eyes not nearly as bright as Boris’s but her claws just as sharp.
I crossed my arms, trying to look relaxed. “So. Kirk gave you a ride home. That was nice of him, considering how much you hate him. Did you mention that to Kirk when you told him I don’t know how to play guitar?”
Cat’s jaw dropped.
“Oh, wait. I forgot. Jeremy told him I don’t know how to play guitar.” I put a finger on my chin. “Let’s see. I wonder how Jeremy, not to mention every kid in school, would’ve known that. Huh. Can’t imagine.”
“You don’t know anything about it.”
“Funny. You keep saying that, and yet I seem to know quite a bit.” More than Kirk had meant to share, but I usually found out everything anyway. “I know him a lot better than you do. He likes me. He must’ve been taking pity on you.”
“He didn’t—” Cat broke off, looking as if she’d swallowed her own tongue.
“Sorry, babe.” God, I sounded like Liz, but Cat was obviously pissed at me, and all I’d done to her so far was swipe the Jeep. Big whoop. “Face it. I’ll always be tighter with him than you are. Like, by a mile.”
“He told me—” She clapped a hand over her mouth, shot a final glare at me, and stormed out of my room.
Easing off my bed, I walked over and shut the door with a soft click. Operation Crucify Cat was rolling. I just wasn’t sure how I’d done it.
In Speech class Tuesday morning, I nabbed the desk next to Drew and was busy ignoring—but enjoying—the poisonous looks Chelsea kept darting at me. The final bell to start classes hadn’t rung yet, and Ms. Ciccarelli was nowhere in sight.
“Thanks. That was really sweet of you.”
Sweet? Of me? At the sound of the soft voice, I didn’t check to see who’d spoken, sure the words weren’t meant for me.
“Seriously.”
I finally glanced up, but the look aimed at me from in front of my desk wasn’t a bit poisonous. It was almost syrupy sweet.
“Heather? Were you talking to me?”
She nodded shyly. “We hardly even know each other, so it was really cool of you to let me play with the band.”
“I didn’t—”
She held up a hand. Long, gracefully tapered fingers. No wonder she could play guitar. My own fingers were too short and stubby to form chords, even if Jazz claimed they weren’t.
Since I’d given up on playing with Kirk’s band, I should cancel this week’s lesson with Jazz.
“I know. Kirk said you couldn’t play last Friday because you had to hang with your family, but he also said—”
I shook my head. I didn’t need Chelsea or even Drew hearing that I’d chickened out on playing with the band.
Heather glanced at them before dropping her voice. “Anyway. Thanks. I worked really hard on guitar all summer, but this was the first time I’ve played with an actual band. I didn’t really know anyone.”
“No worries.” She seemed so sweet, I was practically having a diabetic reaction just listening to her. “I’m too busy these days to play. Or, well, I’m going to be.”
“Yeah, Kirk said you—”
I waved a hand to stop her, even though there wasn’t much point. If Kirk had told Heather that I planned to try out for gymnastics—was nothing a secret around here?—he’d probably tell Amber and Drew, which meant Chelsea would know, too. If she didn’t already. Still, I didn’t want to talk about it, and definitely not in front of Chelsea or even Drew. I couldn’t even fit into a leotard right now without looking like a stuffed sausage, and that wasn’t how I wanted to look. Especially in front of Kirk.
The bell rang, and Heather gave me another smile before returning to her seat by the far window. Heather was too sweet, too nice. Maybe even more than Jane.
If that was possible.
Dad somehow found my spare key to the Jeep and busted me from driving it until the end of time—or whe
never Mom talked him into changing his mind. But I wasn’t grounded, and I also wasn’t going anywhere with Cat. I walked home from school on Tuesday, glad it was September and not January. By January, or even November or December, I needed to get some wheels. Wheels not driven by Cat.
As I sauntered along the sidewalk, enjoying the fresh air and blue sky in a way I’d never appreciated when it was crammed down my throat in Montana, I tried to figure out what I could do next to Cat. I mean, not that I’d really done anything yet, even if she acted like I had.
She and Jeremy hadn’t sat together at lunch—he actually sat next to Kirk at my table, and she hung out with the art geeks, pointedly not looking at him—and they both looked miserable. And pissed. Excellent.
Walking in the front door, I caught Cat heading out, dressed in her dorky Nickelodeon Universe clothes.
“Have fun at work. If that’s possible.”
She barely even glanced at me as she brushed past.
“How’s Jeremy? I see you guys aren’t hanging out at lunch. Trouble in paradise?”
Halfway across the lawn, she whipped around. “Like you don’t know. Thanks a lot.”
Turning, she headed for the Jeep.
“Happy to help.” And I was, if it meant Cat was miserable, even though I hadn’t even begun to do anything rotten. A thought crossed my mind, then lit up like a neon billboard. “Hey, if you’re tired of Jeremy, do you want me to keep him company? As a favor to both of you?”
She slammed her palm against the Jeep, yelping as she did. She clenched her teeth. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Yeah? Watch me.”
As the next two days crawled by, Thursday night’s band practice was the only thing on my horizon. I’d gotten out of playing guitar. But since Kirk would be playing, and Amber would undoubtedly be hanging out, too, it really didn’t offer much of an opportunity. For anything.
