“Deep steady breaths, Maggie.” Nodding against his chest, I inhaled deeply and held it for a few seconds before letting it out slowly. I repeated the process until eventually my head started to clear. I pulled back, but Seth held tight to my shoulders.
“If you hadn’t come to the park, it would have been me.”
“Maggie, you’re safe.” He slipped a hand around my neck, resting his thumb along my jaw.
I looked up into his eyes as tears spilled down my face. “But Tammy Byrne’s dead. Her family will never see her again, never hold her again.” I dropped back onto his chest again crying even harder. He stroked my hair and continued to hold me, uttering soft words of comfort. After several minutes, I forced myself to regain my composure. Seth gently wiped the tears from my face.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t cry like a babbling idiot.” I felt humiliated by my childish outburst.
“Showing sorrow for someone you’ve never met is hardly foolish, Maggie,” he said. “It shows compassion.”
“Thank you for helping me last night. I didn’t tell you that, not really.”
“Don’t mention it.” He brushed a stray piece of hair from my face, sending a shiver racing down my spine as my eyes dropped to his lips. I took another deep breath to clear my head again.
“We should let the police know we saw that man in the park.” He agreed, dropping his hand from my face. I immediately missed the comfort of his touch. “I’ll call them after school.”
I stepped back to make some room between us. I was too caught up in the emotion of everything and needed a little space. Not realizing we were next to the stairwell, my foot slipped back and down a step. Seth caught me around the waist before I fell. He also caught me just as Hillary came around the corner. Her eyes lit up when she saw me in Seth’s arms. I quickly righted myself and pulled away. Regrettably, I hadn’t noticed that the heel of my shoe had broken off, and I stumbled again. Seth caught me, again.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Hillary stepped closer, her grip tightening on her book bag. She was probably imagining it was my neck.
“No.” I pulled free of Seth and removed my ruined shoe, thanking him once more. I used the opportunity to get away and raced to the bathroom. Once inside, I ran into the first open stall and plopped down, still wrestling with the nauseous feelings inside me.
Poor Tammy! I should have been the one killed last night, no one would have mourned my death. The tears began flowing again. It took more than half an hour before I was able get myself under control. I fiddled with my broken shoe, finally giving up and limping out of the stall. To my surprise, I wasn’t alone. Leaning against the sink, with her arms folded across her perfect chest, stood Hillary. I hobbled past her and went to the far sink to wash my face.
She pounced. “Keep your hands off Seth!”
If looks could kill! I ignored her.
“What makes you think you can steal him away from me?” She ran a condescending glare up and down my length. I felt stupid. She was right, but it still hurt to hear.
“Of course, if you’re giving him what he wants, he may stay with you until boredom sets in, which in your case,” she eyeballed me again, “shouldn’t take too awfully long.”
I took a paper towel, ran it under the cold water, and wrung it out before pressing it to my sore puffy eyes. “I’m not after him. Maybe he’s after me, did you ever think of that?” I hoped to get under her skin a little with my comment. Okay, maybe a lot.
Bingo! She had thought of it and it bothered her, a great deal I’d guess by her shrill laugh. She moved closer.
“Like I said, if you’re giving him what he wants, he may stick around for a while. Maggie, guys like him only play with girls like you, if you catch my meaning.” I did. “But they fall in love with the good girls, like me.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re saying popular guys prefer egocentric, stuck up, snotty girls, correct?” I wanted to sound as if I were simply gathering information, like a poor misguided soul, and she was teaching me one of life’s great mysteries.
“No, stupid. They play with the trampy girls until they tire of them, or use them up. They marry the good girls.”
“I guess that would explain why he’s dating you at the moment and not me. He’s obviously not ready for marriage. I mean, seriously, he is only eighteen.” Good one, Maggie. I attempted to fix my pathetic hair and gave up, and settled on adjusting my pathetic sweater instead before turning to leave.
Hillary had other plans. She drew up in my face, so close I could smell her sour breath. What did she have for lunch anyway?
“He’s mine, and a simple piece of trailer trash like you doesn’t stand a chance against someone like me. Capice?”
“Why are you so worried then?” Her eyes flared at my question. She looked intimidating, if not downright evil. I decided to try to smooth things over, sort of.
“I’m not interested in him. He’s shallow and stuck up, a perfect match for you!” Despite the smug grin on my face, I knew he was none of those things. “We’re just friends, not even friends really, more like acquaintances. He means nothing to me.” A twinge of guilt pricked at my heart with the comment. It bothered me more than having her in my personal space at the moment.
“Maybe punching in your ugly face will help you to remember he’s off limits.” Her threat took me by surprise, I had no idea cheerleaders punched people. She pulled her fist back and threw it forward toward my face. Luckily, I’d spent years dodging empty booze bottles lobbed at me by my mother and promptly ducked out of the way. Her fist slammed into the mirror and it cracked.
“You’re crazy!” I started for the door, but she caught my sweater, and jerking me around, she took another swing. My arm shot up to block it. The blow made contact with my forearm causing a bitter sting. Before she could hit me again, the bathroom door popped opened and in walked the Vice Principal, Mrs. Volkel. Hillary immediately released my sweater.
“May I inquire as to why two of my best students are in this bathroom during the lunch break? You are both aware that only the restrooms next to the cafeteria are to be used during this hour, correct?” She had her hands on her hips and an annoyed frown on her mouth.
“Hi, Mrs. Volkel.” Hillary was all saccharine smiles and lucent charm, the evil glint in her eyes had completely vanished. Astounding. “Love your shoes, are they new?”
“Yes, they are.” Mrs. Volkel relaxed, dropping her hands to her side. Hillary sounded genuinely charming, in a sick, twisted kind of way. “I purchased them at Carmichaels during their after-Christmas sale.”
“That place is expensive, I’m envious.” She flashed a fake smile. Mrs. Volkel bought it, hook, line and sinker. She was actually impressed by the fact that a popular cheerleader thought her shoes were cute. Pitiable really.
Watching her spin her evil web, I thought back to our tenth grade year. She and some of her friends set up an internet site entitled GeeksWeBe.com. She posted mean-spirited photos, along with acerbic commentary on fellow students who had committed, in her words, a fashion faux pas. The unforgivable trespasses included such things as: poofy bangs, tee shirts tucked into slacks, and the dreaded fanny pack. If she hadn’t been forced to shut down the site after posting a photo of the science teacher wearing socks with sandals, my sweater would have surely made the list. She also charmed her way out of a suspension by claiming her goal was to help the fashion misfits. Yeah, right!
“Shoe trouble is why Maggie and I are in here, Mrs. Volkel.” I looked at Hillary wondering what instant lie Little Miss Webmaster had come up with this time. “She broke her shoe, and I brought her here to see if it could be fixed somehow. I didn’t want the other students to see her like this, they might make fun of her, more than they already do, I mean.” Ouch!
“Hillary, you are a real role model for other students.” Mrs. Volkel looked as if she were about to cry. Me, I wanted to throw up. “Were you able to fix her shoe?” She dabbed the corner of her left eye.
&
nbsp; “No, it’s not a very good quality shoe,” aka-cheap, “it can’t be fixed. The good news is it’s easily replaced. I saw a pair almost exactly like them in the window of a discount store on Saturday. I’ll drive her over there after school,” she said, flashing another fake smile. “I’d hate for her to ride the bus with a broken shoe.”
“Thank you for your kindness.” She patted Hillary on the arm.
I’d had enough and limped toward the door.
“Wait a minute, do either of you know how this mirror got broken?” I looked at Hillary, anxious to see her next performance.
“Not a clue, it was already broken when we came in here.” Another perfect lie. Not a muscle on her face twitched, not a hint anywhere on her face she was lying. The girl should be charging for this show.
“It was probably one of those kids from the bad side of town.” I winked before adding, “You know how they are.”
Mrs. Volkel gave me an uncomfortable look. “Yes, um, well, we’ll never know. I’ll put in a work order to have it fixed before someone gets hurt on the broken pieces. Off to class, ladies, the bell is about to ring.”
I rushed out, wanting to get to culinary class before the halls filled and everyone saw me hobbling along. I sat in my usual back corner trying to understand how my simple boring life had suddenly gone crazy.
“How are you doing?” My breath caught in my throat. Stealth technology had nothing on this guy. It’s as if he appears out of thin air. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Seth said, putting his hand on mine. The warmth of it reminded me of how warm his mouth was, and I slowly pulled my hand away pretending to look for something in my book bag.
“I’m better, thanks.” I threw him a quick smile and returned to my bag keeping up my pretense.
“Is this a new outfit? I like it.” My face flushed at his compliment, I buried it deeper inside my bag.
“Thank you. No.”
“How’s your shoe? Were you able to fix it?”
“No, it’s hopeless.”
“Let me take a look at it.”
“Don’t worry about it, they’re cheap shoes,” I said, as if it were no big deal that I now had only one pair of shoes to my name; one pair with the toe ripped out.
“Maggie, the shop teacher’s a genius, he can fix anything. Let me run it over and see what he can do.”
Figuring there was nothing to lose, I handed him the shoe. Maybe now I wouldn’t be mysteriously partnered to cook with him if he weren’t here, something I hadn’t been able to avoid yet. I watched him saunter out the door before turning my attention to Mrs. Gianchi.
“Class, today we’re going to have a contest.” She was perched atop of her stool once more with a sunflower print apron on. “By the stoves I’ve placed several different ingredients, and if you’d like to use it, a cookbook. Your assignment is to come up with something spectacular to eat. Your creations will be judged on taste, presentation, and creativity.”
I’m dead. My cooking skills were poor at best. My only hope was a talented partner. I looked around trying to remember who always did well in class.
“Your creation has to be completely finished including cooking time within one hour. To make this fair we’ll draw names to determine who you’ll be partnered with. If your last name starts with the letters A through L you’ll pull a name out of the bowl.”
Finally some good news! The odds of choosing Seth’s name were pretty slim. Just in case, I stood back refusing to take a turn until someone else drew out his first.
I waited and waited, but no one drew Seth’s name. This cannot be happening! It came down to my boy-crazy friend Julie and me; still I waited. “Julie, your partner is Erin Steel,” Mrs. Gianchi said, reading the slip of paper. “Which means, Maggie, you’ll be working with …” she pulled out the last piece of paper, “Seth.” I mouthed as she read it aloud.
“Mrs. Gianchi, Seth isn’t here, should—”
“I’m back.” His voice made my stomach quiver, in a good way. “Look, your shoe’s as good as new,” he said, handing it to me.
It did look as good as new, better actually, you couldn’t tell it had been broken. I put the shoe back on, twisting it around to see if it would hold. Solid, of course, would it dare be anything less?
“Thanks.”
“What’s the assignment? By the way, how’d you rig it so we’d be partners again? You didn’t bribe Mrs. Gianchi did you?” His eyes narrowed playfully.
I ignored his last two questions and explained the assignment. You would have thought he’d won a million dollars. “This is great, we can create whatever we want!” I’m glad he found it exciting because my perception was entirely different. He looked over the ingredients and thumbed through the cookbook before tossing it aside.
“Are you up for an adventure?”
“Sure, why not?” What else could possibly go wrong today? He started dividing the ingredients into different sized portions. I leaned up against the stove and looked around the room at what the others were doing.
“Maggie, we’re a team, remember?”
“I’m a lousy cook, besides I have no idea what you’re doing.”
“I’m going to show you. When we’re done, not only will we win the contest, you’ll also know everything there is to know about garlic,” he said, presenting me with a large white clove of the stinky stuff.
“I hate garlic, I think.” He grinned widely at my pinched expression.
“Well, you won’t after today.” He explained what herbs worked best with what foods, and he was passionate about properly cooking the meat. I learned how to pan sear it to preserve the moisture and how to use a meat thermometer. “It tastes better if you don’t cook the life out of it,” he said.
We chopped carrots and onions, mixed together flour and some of the herbs, combining it all together before pouring it over the cheap–according to Seth–steak we’d browned earlier. By the time we were done, my head was so stuffed full of information, it was a miracle it didn’t spill out my ears. I found him very enjoyable to be around when he wasn’t flirting. He had me laughing more than once with tears streaming down my face. We finished with ten minutes sparing.
“Try it.” I shook my head, no garlic. “Here, Maggie, smell it.” I took a small whiff of the creation as he finished arranging the meal perfectly on a plate down to a small sprig of parsley, for color and your breath, he informed me. It smelled wonderful.
“Okay, okay, I’ll try it.” He spooned up a small bite and fed it to me. It tasted wonderful.
“Mmmm! What are you going to call it?” I grabbed a spoon and shoveled another scoop into my mouth.
“I can’t decide. How about ’Bit of Heaven.’ What do you think? Too over the top isn’t it?”
“It certainly fits. This is amazing." I took another bite. “Any other ideas?”
“Seth and Maggie, you’re next,” Mrs. Gianchi said, interrupting him. “Let’s see what you’ve created. Presentation; lovely, Maggie, full marks. Did you use all the ingredients?” She looked over at our counter. “Good, however, the real test will be in the taste.” Seth handed her a fork. “It certainly smells delicious.” She took a small bite, “Marvelous! The meat is incredibly moist. Have you decided on a name for the dish?”
“I’ve decided to call it Maggie’s Kiss,” Seth proclaimed proudly. All the color drained from my face as Mrs. Gianchi glanced at me and smiled.
“My, my dear, you must be quite the little kisser, this dish is wonderful. Full marks for both of you.” Moving toward the front of the room, she again shook her head in amazement.
“I can’t believe you. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?”
“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you, Maggie.” He was actually puzzled by my reaction. Boys are so dense!
“It's okay, forget it.” It was pointless to argue. “Let’s clean up this mess before the bell rings.” I had to admit the name was kind of sweet, at least no one else heard him.
Mrs. Gi
anchi called the class together from her stool as we finished. “You’ve done well today. I’m proud of your creativity. Some of you should consider cooking as a career, and some of you should continue working hard at your other studies,” she smiled. “The winners in today’s contest are Seth and Maggie for their creation entitled—.”
No! Please don’t say it aloud, please, oh please!
“Maggie’s Kiss.” Ugh! Several of the guys belted out catcalls as Seth grinned. A few even slapped him on the back as if to congratulate him.
Will this day ever end?
“I’ve set out some plastic forks and paper plates on the counter. On your way out the door, please take a small sample of Maggie’s Kiss—Steve, I heard that! If you even try you’ll have detention for a week.” His freckle covered face went bright pink.
Most of the guys crowded around the dish for a taste. When Steve walked over, Seth positioned himself between us, but it didn’t stop Steve from playfully winking at me.
Seth put the last of it onto a plate and handed it to me as the bell rang. “Sorry if I embarrassed you, Maggie. I didn’t think she’d announce it to the entire class.” His devilish smile didn’t look very repentant to me. My thoughts went to Hillary as I took the plate and left. If she heard about this, I’d be dead.
I used my alternate route home again to avoid Seth. If he did try to find me, I never saw him.
Since we could no longer afford a phone, I went straight to our weird neighbor’s trailer, Mr. Hoffman, to use his. It took him forever to answer the door, and as I was about to give up when it flew open.
“Can I use your phone?” He stood in the doorway wiping his nose on his dirty green shirtsleeve and raking his eyes over me.
“Sure thing, hot stuff.” He scratched himself before reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. He laid it in my hand, keeping contact with my skin much longer than necessary. “Who ya calling? Maybe I can help?” He winked a watery yellow eye.
Unlovable Page 7
