by RH Tucker
Matt’s face drops as he stares at Emma. “Emma … no. You did not let him start with Episode One?”
She shrugs her shoulders, averting her eyes. “I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“You guys are insane!” Carter nearly screams. “Logic dictates you start with the first number, correct?”
“No,” Emma and Matt answer at the same time.
“I can’t be your friend for the rest of lunch. I’m gonna go sit with Izzy.” Matt grabs his bag and gets up.
“Hey.” Emma waves him to stop. “You should invite her over to sit with us. I’d like to get to know your girlfriend a little better before school ends.”
“I’ll tell her, but she’s with her friends. Plus, she does a lot of video editing during lunch. I’ll let her know though, thanks.” Matt smiles, before looking back at Carter. “You disappoint me, Carter. I find your lack of faith disturbing.”
“What?” Carter shoots him a confused look.
Matt shakes his head and walks away to the other side of the quad, while Emma giggles. “The force is strong in that one.”
“Oh my God.” Carter rolls his eyes. “I’m surrounded by nerds.”
“Hey.” Emma gives him a playful scold.
“Nerds who I love.”
“As long as one you love more?” Emma singsongs.
He grins. “Of course, Matt’s my best friend. I love him the most.”
“That’s it, we’re breaking up.” Emma laughs, while Carter gives her kissy faces.
“Okay, if you guys are done being adorable.” I stop them. “And talking about Star Wars … I just want to make sure you guys are cool with him.”
“Jen,” Emma groans.
“I’m serious, Emma. Carter, you’re cool, but I seriously wanted to punch you in the nuts when you were still mystery texter-baller-whatever.” Carter cringes. “And Matt’s become our friend, and we don’t really hang out with his girlfriend, but that technically just happened, and I talked to her when she was on court. She seems cool.”
“Jen, where are you going with this?” Carter shakes his head at me.
“What I’m saying is, me and Franco are for real. And I want you guys to give him a chance.”
“Of course,” Emma answers quickly, giving me another hug.
Carter shoots a distrustful look at me but lifts his shoulders. “Fine.”
“Oh, speak of the devil.” I can’t help the smile that forms over my lips as Franco walks over to our table, coming up behind Carter.
Giving him my most flirty smile, I push my hair over my shoulder. “Hey.”
“Hey, you.” He smiles back at me and I melt. Literally, melt. “Sup, Carter?” He taps him on the shoulder.
“What’s up, dude?”
“Not much. Jen, I was hoping we could talk for a minute?”
He can’t see Carter’s face as Carter sends a worried gaze to Emma. Emma in turn looks at me, unsure herself. I, on the other hand, know exactly what I’m feeling. This is the moment. We didn’t really talk much afterward, and we certainly haven’t discussed our relationship status, but this is it. I know it. We’re going to become official.
“Sure.” I bounce up from the table.
Chapter 3
Lucas
I try to make it a point to avoid Jen at all costs during school. I have for all four years. Yeah, we’ve had run-ins every now and then, but every time she sees me, the annoyance on her face is always there. So, when she sees me walking with Matt at lunch, there isn’t much I can do. Telling him I’d talk to him later, I took off the other way.
I’m sure if I told Matt or Carter, they’d tell me I’m crazy. That I should get over it, or try to talk to her, or something. Believe me, those are all things I’ve thought about doing. And freshman year I actually did try, but she wasn’t having it. It’s incredibly stupid, but it’s gone on so long and now that there’s less than a month of high school left, what’s the point? I mean, we’re still neighbors, but she’ll be going to college and so will I. I’m going to UCI, but I don’t know where she’s going. Wherever it is, even if we do go to the same place, it’s not going to be like we’ll see each other much.
As much as I’ve tried to come to terms with our situation, I do wish it was different. Every time she rolls her eyes when she sees me, I wish I’d never did that stupid thing in eighth grade. I liked her. A lot. But she caught me so off guard asking me to the dance that I mumbled something and grabbed a friend and kissed her. Why? Why-why-why? I still have no idea. My only answer is because I was a dumb kid, nervous and embarrassed that she asked me, and I just wanted to get out of the situation. Even that answer still makes no sense.
And even as senseless as my actions were, and as hurtful as they were, since she must’ve at least liked me a little bit to ask me out, I’ve still never understood why it affected her so much. Was it stupid? Hurtful? Humiliating? Yes to all of those, but we were little kids. I’ve racked my brain over the years, trying to understand why she’d hold that over me for years on end, but I’ve come up with nothing. We were best friends. We hung out and played and talked about so much. Did that one mistake ruin everything? She still seemed like the same fun-loving Jen I grew up with, except when it came to me. It’s a mystery I’ve yet to solve and I probably never will.
Reaching around in my bag, I pull out my earbuds and plug them in to my phone, turning on my music. This has been my routine for the past couple weeks, ever since severing my ties with Jeremy. I’m still surprised at myself for calling him a dick, but it’s true. The dude is a grade-A douchebag, and even if I’ve been friends with him for years, I’ve always known he’s a jerk. First with everything that happened with Carter, and even though he wasn’t exactly making fun of Matt, he certainly wasn’t being a friend. So, cutting ties with him meant my friend-pool dwindled significantly. Matt and Carter are still good friends, but since they eat lunch with Emma and Jen, hanging out with them during lunch is out of the question.
What I’ve been doing is hanging out in the bleachers of our football field. It’s connected to campus, which is gated, so the faculty lets student hang out there during lunch. Not many of us do, so I chill on the shaded side, listen to music, and eat my lunch. I’m glad school is almost over, because if I had to do this routine for longer than a few more weeks, I don’t know what I’d do.
Walking past the courtyard, I turn a corner to head to the field, but I accidentally bump in to Jackson.
“Oh, sorry, man,” he apologizes as my phone falls out of my hand and hits the ground. Before I bend over to pick it up, he moves first. Cringing, he looks at the smashed screen and gives me an awkward grimace. “Shit. Sorry, Lucas.”
I shake my head. “It’s cool, it was smashed already. Doesn’t look like any worse damage was caused.”
“Oh, good.” He lets out a sigh of relief. “I was freaking out, thinking I totally demolished your phone.” His eyes roam back to my phone screen. “You like Sam Hunt?”
“Yeah?” I look at him, unsure. I like country music, but I know most people I go to school with don’t.
“Cool, me too.” He smiles as if we just became best friends. “I saw him in concert a while back. Jason Aldean, too.”
“That’s cool.” I nod and start to keep on walking. It’s not that I don’t like those artists, because I do, but we don’t really talk, and I don’t see much reason to start now.
“Hey,” he says, turning to follow me. “Did you have Mr. Sheraton’s assignment from this morning? I didn’t make the class.”
I let out a chuckle—partially because Jackson has to only be passing with a C-average with the number of classes he misses, and partially because we don’t talk much unless we’re on a team. “Yeah.”
“Cool,” he replies nervously. “Um, you think I could get it?”
It’s strange that he’s asking me. He sits next to Tim Paulson, who I know is his friend. Like, an actual friend. I’ve seen them hang out at lunch in the past. “I gue
ss.”
“Thanks.” He glances around nervously and scratches the back of his head. “I’d ask Tim, but …” He trails off, averting his eyes.
I want to ask why he won’t ask him, but he seems hesitant. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
He’s obviously not. If we were friends, I might ask him what’s wrong. But, like I said, we’re not. Since I’m not an ass either, I can still help him out with the assignment.
I pull my backpack off and reach into it, grabbing my book for the class. “Damn,” I hiss at myself. “I thought I had it with me, but I don’t. I left it in my locker and got my physics book instead.”
“Oh.”
He looks like his dog died and now I’m actually a little curious as to what’s up, but I still don’t want to pry. “What’s your number?” I say, before I give it a second thought. As he gives it to me, I save it in my phone. “I’ll hit you up later and text it to you. Cool?”
He suddenly seems like I’m his best friend again and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. “Yeah, totally. Thanks, man.”
“No problem.”
He turns around and it actually looks like he has a bit more pep in his step. I shake my head, a small grin hitting my face. Jackson seems like an okay guy, even if he’s always kept to himself.
Checking my phone, I realize I’ve got about fifteen minutes of lunch left. My locker is on one side of campus and my last two classes are on the other side. If I go to the football field, I don’t have enough time to sit and relax for a bit. And I don’t want to go after classes, because the student parking lot is right next to my last class, so I decide to go grab the book now.
Making my way over to my locker, I’m about to unlock it when I hear a someone talking around the corner. Jen.
“It was amazing,” she says, and I can hear the joy in her voice. “I’m so glad you said that.”
“Yeah,” the other voice answers. Franco. “And you’re amazing.”
“Thanks, you’re not too bad yourself.”
I roll my eyes and I really want to leave. I quietly spin the lock on my locker, hoping to get it open, grab the book, and leave so I don’t have to hear any more of their damn lovey-dovey talk.
“So, I wanted to make sure we’re cool.”
Jen giggles. “Oh, I think we’re more than cool.”
I raise an eyebrow because I’ve heard from Franco about his break-up tactics, although he says it’s technically not a break-up, since they’re just hooking up and not really going out. It’s sleazy but I never said anything. It’s not like he’s the only person who does it, whether they’re a guy or girl. But this is different, because it’s Jen. And I can tell from the sound of her voice, she has no idea.
Franco clears his throat. “Right. No, what I mean is, us. We’re cool, right?”
“Um …” I can hear the hesitation in her voice now. “What do you mean?”
“Jen, prom was a blast. And the after party, that was hot.”
“Right?”
“But, like, we had our fun. I mean, school’s almost over and I just want to make sure you’re cool with our situation.”
“Our situation?”
“Jen, come on. I’ve heard some of the stuff about you. I know you’re not looking for a steady thing.”
“Excuse me?”
“No,” he says, backtracking. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Actually, it’s cool. You’re doing you. It’s what I do.”
“Hold on.” She sounds less hurt and more annoyed now. “I don’t go around randomly hooking up with people.”
“Jen?”
“I don’t! Sure, I have hooked up with a couple guys, but it’s not like I play with their emotions. Which—” Even though I’m around the corner, I can hear the loud breath she takes. Her next words come out soft. “I thought you were different.”
“Come on.” He’s not acting like a jerk, which is something at least. But she’s still hurt, and I can feel the blood pounding inside my ear drums. “We both just wanted a good time.”
“I thought you …” She doesn’t finish her sentence, and if I know anything about her, I know she wants to cry but is holding it back.
“Please don’t make this awkward.” His tone is flat, like he’s uncomfortable instead of feeling guilty that she liked him and he didn’t see it.
“Just go.”
“Come on, Jen. Don’t be like that. School’s almost over, so I figured we could stay cool. You know, maybe hook up this summer or whatever.”
I don’t know what Jen’s reaction is, but his last comment blows my top. I slam my locker shut, loud enough for them to hear it, and turn the corner to face them.
“Luc.” My name is so low, I almost think it’s my imagination. Jen’s eyes meet mine, and for the first time that I can remember there’s no hate there. Just sorrow. They’re glassed over, and I know she wants to cry but is holding it back.
“Mitchell?” Franco gives me an unsure stare.
“You okay?” I ask Jen, ignoring him. She nods.
“What are you doing here?” Franco asks.
“Get the hell outta here,” I snap at him.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
He glares at me, annoyed and unsure, then his eyes shoot over to Jen. He lets out an incredulous chuckle, rolling his eyes. “Whatever.”
He turns and walks away, leaving Jen and I standing there in silence. She looks miserable. Her eyes blink and the tears finally fall down her cheeks. Even though she’s hated me for years, there’s nothing I want to do more than reach over and hold her. The last time I did that, she’d been embarrassed in sixth grade by Becky Cooper. We walked home together after school, not saying a word. Finally, before she opened the door to her house, she looked over at me, and all the tears she’d been holding back came out in a flood. I pulled her close to me, hugging her, whispering, “It’s okay.”
I wish I could do the same thing now. Hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay.
Trying to think of something, anything I can say that would help, my hand instinctively reaches to her. “Jen—”
“Just don’t.” She takes a step back, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Jen, please, just—”
“I said don’t, Lucas,” she snaps. Her eyes are red, making the death glare she gives me look menacing. “God, I’m so embarrassed.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
“Well, I am!” she shouts. “And you. What were you doing, spying on me or something?”
“What? No.” I raise my hands in defense.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I had to grab a book out of my locker.”
“Right.” She shakes her head, her gaze dropping down at the ground.
“Whatever,” I grunt and start walking away.
I turn back around as I leave, checking on her. She still stands there in the hall, her head hanging low, her arms hugging herself. Even though I can’t hear her or see her face, I know she’s crying again.
Chapter 4
Jen
The rest of the day I just go through the motions. I can tell Emma knows something is wrong, but I can’t bring myself to confide in her yet. I feel so … worthless. And I know if I tell her that, or anyone for that matter, they’ll tell me I’m over-reacting. But when you’re left by the people who are supposed to love you, I can’t help but feel like that. Everyone I’ve ever thought was special and would keep me, seemed to reject me. Except for my aunt, who took me in when I was four and has been more my mom than my aunt for nearly my entire life.
“Jen, please, you’re scaring me,” Emma says as I stop outside of her house, dropping her off after school.
“Emma, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” She frowns.
I take a deep breath, staring down her street instead of making eye contact. “Look, I thought he liked me. But he didn’t, no big de
al.”
“Jen,” she begins, reaching over and giving my arm a comforting squeeze, “like you told me one time when I was in tears over someone … he’s an idiot.”
“Yeah, but your guy ended up being really nice,” I mutter, remembering how Emma and Carter started out. “Seriously, I’m fine.” I power through, slapping a smile on, though I’m sure she doesn’t buy it. “I gotta go.”
She stares at me for a moment longer. She knows I don’t have to go. Half of the time when I drop her off after school we hang out for a while, but she doesn’t argue with me.
Leaning over, she wraps an arm around me. “Call me later.”
I nod, not wanting to talk anymore.
I know I’m not heading home as soon as she gets out. When lunch ended I knew exactly what I was doing after school. I’m getting a tattoo. I’ve actually had the idea of a tattoo for a while, but after everything that happened with Franco, today I’ve resolved to get it. And since my aunt is the co-owner of a tattoo shop, I know where to go.
After a twenty-minute drive, I pull into a small strip mall. I pass a Starbucks and even though an iced caramel macchiato would be super comforting right now, I’m on a mission. A couple shops over is Butterfly Ink, the tattoo shop my aunt co-owns with a lady named Tina. They tattoo both men and women, but they’ve made a name for themselves locally by catering to a female base.
A girl who is apprenticing at the shop and works the phones, Sheela, smiles at me as I walk in.
“Hey, Kim.” I wave over at the tattoo artist who works under Tina and my aunt, Nancy.
“What’s up, girl?” Kim waves at me. She’s a tall lady, lean, with light mocha skin, and both arms covered in colorful sleeves. She always wears a bright colored lipstick, neon blue today, and her hair is braided back.
“Hey, Jen.” Tina nods at me, before resuming her work. She has a lady in her chair, she’s working on. A sister—or maybe a daughter—sits next to her. It’s a common sight in Butterfly Ink. Like I said, it’s the clientele they usually cater to.
