“I’m serious, Gemma! Don’t give him his cake! Don’t give him his cake!”
I disconnected Drew and accepted Jess’s incoming call. Before saying anything I took a deep breath, “Hello?”
“Hey, Gem. It’s me.”
“Hey.” Crap, I sounded too excited. “What’s up?”
“Can we talk?”
I knew I was supposed to act all hard-to-get, but the way he asked it, so sweetly and almost humble, made it impossible to say no. “Um, yeah. I’ll meet you out front.” I tried on three different jackets—two old and the new one my parents had just given me for my birthday. The new one was definitely the cutest, but the old blue one was the one I was wearing the first time Jess kissed me. Maybe it would bring back old feelings. No, I wasn’t this girl. I grabbed the new jacket and threw it over my shoulders as I ran down the stairs. I met Jess on the front porch, but he wasn’t sitting down. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said nodding toward the street.
“Okay.” I followed him over my lawn, wondering with every step what this meant. He wanted to talk. Surely he didn’t want to re-breakup with me. So talking could only be a good thing. Or maybe this was about the note. Maybe he thought that I wrote it. Maybe he was jealous. Either way, Drew was right. I couldn’t get back together with him. Even if he begged me to.
We turned right down the street in the direction of the cement jungle. For a while over the summer, I went there every night and thought about Jess. But as the phone calls got scarcer and Trace became more regular, my visits to the jungle tapered off, and it had been a good couple of months since I’d been there. We walked in silence, and I was relieved that we still could. That we could still be together, without saying anything, and feel completely comfortable — well, almost completely comfortable. Jess helped me up the first block, and I waited for him to get up while I daydreamed of a million things I wished he’d do once he was situated—hold my hand, kiss my lips, kneel down on one knee and ask me for forgiveness. But as the minutes rolled on, none of those things happened, and when we finally sat down, Jess stuffed his hands back in his pant pockets. We sat a good foot apart, as far apart as two people that are just friends would.
Jess bit his bottom lip and slowly kicked the block beneath us with the back of his shoe. One and then the other. “So,” he finally said, “you’re in my photography class.”
“Yeah.” I looked up at him, but he didn’t look back. “I had to transfer classes, and that was one of the only ones with space.”
He nodded. “I like Ms. Delrose.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Jess shifted uncomfortably. “How has your birthday been?”
I shrugged. “It’s been fine. Drew did everything she could to make it very exciting.”
“What do you mean?”
“She put balloons in my locker. And those notes.”
“Drew did all that?”
“Yeah, but she didn’t write the one about you. Someone else must have…” His eyes were distant, and he seemed to barely be listening to my explanation, so I stopped.
“You can, you know,” Jess said.
“I can what?”
“Be with Trace. I don’t want you to think that just because I’m around and will hear about stuff that…I’m just saying you can date him if you want to.”
I looked away from Jess and down our long dark street. This wasn’t exactly the talk I was hoping we would be having. It was impossible to stand firm in my resolution to not get back together with him when he didn’t even want me back.
Jess continued despite my silent prayers that he wouldn’t. “I really want us to be friends again. I know that it usually doesn’t work, you know, when two people date for a while, they say they can’t be friends…that it can’t ever be the same. But I think we’re different. What we had, our friendship I mean, it’s so much stronger than most.”
I nodded in slow motion. The friend talk. Again. How was it possible that my heart was breaking all over again?
“Here.” He leaned forward and grabbed a roll of newspaper out of his back pocket. “My mom didn’t have any wrapping paper. Sorry that it looks so bad.”
I took the roll of paper in my hand and turned it over once to examine the wrapping job.
“Go ahead, open it,” he urged before tearing at one of the corners to start me off.
I smiled despite myself and nudged him away before peeling back the rest of the wrapping. Inside was a white T-shirt, the kind you’d see at a tourist shop. I turned it over in my hand until I saw pink and green letters sprawled across the front. It read, “Someone in California who loves me bought me this shirt.”
“I got that like three months ago,” Jess explained. “I was going to send it to you as a joke, I mean, I know you’d never actually wear it. But I don’t know, I just never sent it.” He folded his arms when a cool breeze brushed over our shoulders. “But I’m giving it to you now because I really want you to know that despite everything that has gone on between us lately, I still love you. I’ll always love you—as my best friend.”
I stared at the cold white and fluorescent T-shirt in my hands. The word love popped out as the only green word in a mess of pink. As a friend. He loved me as a friend. The reality of those words pressed against my eyeballs, and I felt my cheeks quivering with emotion. “Thank you,” I whispered but mostly I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him that I wished we’d never kissed, that I wished I could take it all back. I wanted to tell him he could take his love and his friendship and his stupid five-dollar T-shirt and go back to California. But I didn’t, and I didn’t cry because the last thing I wanted him to see was that he’d broken me. I took in a deep breath and smiled. I thanked him and told him that I was glad we’d always be friends and then I went home. I went up to my room. I shoved the shirt into the back corner of my closet where I put my socks that didn’t have a match. Then I climbed into bed and cried myself to sleep with my clothes on.
Chapter 6
“Lauren, would you come to the front of the class please?”
Drew and I stopped talking across the aisle when we heard our teacher, Mrs. Pence speak. It was fifth period, World History, and the only class we had together all day. We couldn’t help but whisper and pass notes to each other throughout the entire class. But at that moment, we watched and waited, along with the other thirty curious students in the classroom, to find out who this Lauren girl was and what she was doing in Franklin, North Carolina.
Lauren was tall and thin with long, dark, red hair and the proportions of a super model. Mrs. Pence announced, “Class, this is Lauren James. She is our newest student here at Franklin, and I want you to all welcome her and be helpful to her as she is trying to figure things out in a new school.” Mrs. Pence then turned to Lauren with an oversized smile. “Lauren, tell us a little about yourself. Where did you come from? And why did you come to Franklin?”
The Lauren girl smiled shyly, and I could tell from her innocent eyes and the way she shuffled her feet beneath her that she was a genuinely nice person. “Oh, um,” she stammered, “I grew up in Iowa. Uh, it’s a little town called Pella. It’s kind of a famous town in Iowa, but no one else has ever heard of it.”
Drew leaned across the aisle and wrote something on my homework. When she moved her hand I saw the words, “A famous town in Iowa? I’m really impressed.”
I smirked at her from the corner of my mouth; then we both sat straight when our teacher eyed us from the front of the class. “And what brought you to Franklin?” she asked when we finally gave her our full attention.
“My parents, um,” she folded her arms, then unfolded them, then tried putting them in her pant pockets that weren’t there because she was wearing a skirt. “Well my parents got a, um…you know. And my mom was born and raised here in Franklin, so she and I came back here to kind of start over, I guess.”
A million hushed voices began talking about the new girl while the teacher interrogated Lauren on who her mom was and what was her maiden name and how they must have gone to grade school together.
I was still watching her, how she laughed politely at the teacher’s stupid stories about growing up in Franklin, when Drew leaned over to me and whispered, “Has Trace talked to you yet?”
“No, about what?”
“He’s going to ask you out for tomorrow night. We were talking about doubling. I met a guy at the gas station yesterday, and he asked me out.” She scrunched her face. “He’s cute but possible creepy. I don’t really want to go alone.”
“Drew,” I whined. “I don’t want to go out with Trace.”
“What’s your problem with him?”
“Nothing, I just don’t like him like that.”
“Who cares? By going out with Trace tomorrow night, you’re accomplishing two very important goals. You’re getting your mind off Jess while simultaneously making him jealous. Plus Trace will be happy. Win, win, win.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you think Trace is so wonderful, why don’t you go out with him?” The question had been plaguing me for sometime now. I knew she had a thing for him last year, so why was she pushing him at me?
Drew frowned. “Because. By some cosmic mystery of the universe, Trace hasn’t tuned into how awesome I am. But instead of being a jealous friend, I’m trying to help you not miss out on a great guy that is obviously in love with you.”
“Who’s in love with her?”
Both Drew and I turned our heads to the once vacant desk behind us. The new girl—Lauren James—was now its occupant and was leaning forward listening in on our conversation and wanting to know details.
“Um,” I turned back to Drew unsure of how much I should say. What if this girl was a spy or even worse, a gossiping motor mouth that would spread rumors throughout the whole school.
Drew shrugged one shoulder and turned to Lauren. “His name is Trace Weston, and he’s amazing.”
“So it’s a good thing that he likes you,” she said nodding at me. “Right?”
“It should be,” Drew said. “But Gemma’s still hung up on this other guy.”
“Who?” Lauren said, and I couldn’t believe the nerve of this girl.
“No one,” I said before Drew could answer. “I’m not hung up on anyone. I just don’t want to go out with Trace. That’s all.”
Then Drew looked back at Lauren. “Well, I guess that means he’s open game. You want me to introduce you?”
Lauren propped her head on her fist. “Sure, I don’t have anything against going out with amazing guys.”
And that was the moment I started to hate Lauren James.
Not that I had any real reason to. She was beautiful, talented, smart, and yet incredibly unaware of it all. She was down to earth and funny and coincidentally self-conscious, which all made it extremely difficult not to like her. But for some reason, I just couldn’t. Not completely. We were sat around her kitchen table one afternoon after school—as was the case for most afternoons after school during the month of October—eating potato chips and jelly beans and pretending to do homework.
Lauren tapped her pencil against her textbook. “Last night I swear I heard a bear outside the windows of our great room.” Both Drew and I looked at Lauren skeptically. “You don’t have to believe me, but I was just sitting there studying, and I heard something rub against the window.”
Drew bit down on a chip. “I would put money on Roy Fergus stalking you outside your window before I would on a bear.”
“Who’s Roy Fergus?” Lauren asked.
“He’s captain of the hockey team,” I said. “Though he does look a bit like a grizzly now that he hit puberty.”
Drew laughed so suddenly that tiny bits of chip spewed from her teeth.
“I’m serious, you guys,” Lauren said. “Whatever it was growled at me through the window.”
Both Drew and I burst into laughter this time. I wiped at the saliva that had leaked out of my mouth during my fit of laughter. “That still doesn’t rule out Roy Fergus.”
“I have an idea!” Lauren said with bright eyes. “You two should sleep here at my house Friday night.”
“Why?” Drew said, wiping at her eye. “Just because we could each have our own separate bedroom and bathroom?” It was true, Lauren’s house was humongous. But she had made it clear the first time we entered it that it wasn’t really her house. Her rich uncle owned the place and used it every other winter to entertain his wife’s side of the family at Christmastime. The house was decorated to the hilt in cabin-like paraphernalia, and the way it was set up higher in the hills just west of Franklin made the possibility of a bear creeping around the yard not all that unlikely.
“No,” Lauren said defensively, “because it’s been forever since I’ve had a slumber party. Besides, my mom is working late that night, and I really don’t want to be alone if Roy Fergus is growling outside my window.”
That Friday night we found ourselves sprawled out on sleeping bags in the middle of Lauren’s great room. I had never been in a house that had a great room, let alone sleep over in one. The massive bookshelves, high ceilings, and oversized windows gave it a horror-movie vibe that made the chances of us being involved in a murderer mystery that night not entirely impossible.
“You’ve been here for a month, Lauren. There’s got to be some guy that has caught your attention.” Drew had been drilling Lauren about who she liked for the past five minutes while I slicked off my third Crab Rangoon. Drew had thought it would be fun to order out Chinese, and I was pretty sure I had eaten myself sick.
“Okay,” Lauren lifted her hands in defeat, “there is one guy that I think is pretty cute.”
“Yes!” Drew hoisted herself up off her stomach and sat up with excitement at the confession. “Wait, let me guess.” She paused for a minute while she considered the options. “Trace?”
Lauren twisted her lips. “Trace is great, but you were right about him liking Gemma. I swear he doesn’t even know there’s a world beyond her.”
Drew raised her eyebrows at me. “See, I told you.”
I held my stomach and groaned as I fell back onto my pillow. “Please, I already feel like I’m going to hurl. Don’t make it worse.”
Drew turned her attention back to Lauren. “Kit Walker?”
“Who?” Lauren searched her memory for the name.
“Okay, it’s obviously not him.” Drew relaxed onto her sleeping bag, “I give up, who is it?”
Lauren’s face turned a deep shade of pink as she licked sweet and sour sauce off of her index finger. “This is so embarrassing. He’s so out of my league.”
I leaned in closer to Lauren. “Out of your league? You’re the new girl in school and you’re gorgeous. No one is out of your league.” And I believed it too. Since her first day here, one would have thought a celebrity had moved into town. Every head turned when she walked by, and I swear I saw a guy wipe drool from his chin after she passed one time.
“Just tell us,” Drew persisted.
Lauren took in a deep breath. “Okay, it’s Jess Tyler.” She turned to me with nervous eyes. “You know him, Gemma. He’s in your photography class.” Lauren tucked a piece of her perfect shiny hair behind one ear then said, “I saw him that day that Drew and I walked you to class. He’s the cute one who sits in the back corner by the window. Do you know which one I’m talking about?”
Both Drew and I were struck dumb, and all we could do was nod and fill our mouths with more food.
Lauren watched us with big, self-conscious eyes, willing us to say something—anything—that would reassure her of her affections for Jess. My Jess.
“Um, yeah,” I finally said while still chewing on some ice. “Jess is great. He’s um�
�he’s really nice.”
“So you’ve talked to him?” she said thoughtfully. “I thought I saw him say hi to you once in the hall, but I couldn’t tell if it was a first-time thing or what.”
I felt Drew watching me, but I didn’t look at her. “Oh, um, yeah. We, uh…we’ve been neighbors for a long time.”
“He’s your neighbor?” Lauren looked hopeful.
“Yeah, he lives across the street. But I don’t see him that much.” Which was true, it was all true. But why didn’t I tell her the full truth, the truth about our past, the truth about how much I loved him and wanted him and cried over him every night before I went to sleep? Maybe I couldn’t. Not with that perfect hair of hers and that perfect smile and that perfectly famous little town in Iowa. I couldn’t tell her about me and Jess because if I did, then it would be her against me, and if that was the case, I knew I’d lose.
“I just can’t stop thinking about him. He loaned me an eraser one day in the hall when I was trying to hurry and finish an assignment outside of my third period. He was so sweet, and he even asked me the next time I saw him if everything worked out okay with the assignment. That’s got to mean something, right? I mean if a guy doesn’t like you at all, he’s not going to loan you an eraser, let alone remember to ask you about it later.” Lauren was talking fast and without taking a breath so Drew and I could only sit, watching her with our jaws hanging open. But I knew Drew was thinking the exact same thing that I was, and I knew that we were both thinking that there wasn’t a worst person on earth that Lauren could have confessed to liking at that moment, or ever. “He’s smart and cute and his eyes!” Lauren finally took a breath while putting her hands up to her chest. “His eyes are so amazing!”
That’s when the jealousy started. Or continued really, because the first time I laid eyes on her, I was jealous of everything she had that I didn’t. But now that Jess was involved, the rampant, evil feeling began swelling in my chest, and the more she talked about him, the more it grew.
Drew cleared her throat and, in every attempt to sound natural, said, “Yeah, Jess is a really nice guy. But he’s nice to everyone, so don’t jump to any conclusions. I mean,” Drew stole a sideways glance at me, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Second to No One Page 5
