Why Me? : A Possessive High School Romance (Young Adult Version)

by Silva Hart

  After a study hall of hoops, I see Anna in chem. She greets me with a nonchalant head nod. I’m keenly aware of her presence which makes me weirdly alert for the lesson. The teacher seems as surprised as me when I raise my hand to answer a question. Anna looks over at me after I get it right, and I shoot her a dry smile.

  She raises her hand. Surprise, once again, flashes across the teacher’s face. We take turns raising our hands and answering questions the rest of the period. We’re having so much fun play-acting perfect, little, model students, it’s all I can do to maintain a carefully careless expression the whole time when I’m dying from laughter on the inside.

  Chapter 12

  During our drive home that afternoon, in our smoke that joins in a swirl around our heads and our continued laughter merging together as one, I couldn’t feel more connected to this girl than I do right now.

  It’s been a good day. At One-Eyed Mike’s, I workout, train, and shoot the shit with some of the guys before starting in on emptying waste baskets, sweeping the mats, and cleaning the bathroom and shower area.

  One-Eyed Mike seems like he’s in a good mood too. “This gym’s the cleanest it’s ever been, Jett,” he says in passing. His compliment gives me a pleasant sense of security about the duration of our unspoken arrangement.

  I’m lifting in the corner weight station when Dair comes in. I’m glad to see him go for the jump rope after warming up. It tells me he’s willing to do whatever he has to in order to improve, even if he doesn’t like it. That’s the only way.

  After a few minutes, he strolls over and grabs two 100-pound dumbbells. He’s not far behind me in what he can lift. Facing the mirror, he does slow, steady curls.

  “Hey, Dair,” One-Eyed Mike calls over. “Let’s get you and Jett in the ring.”

  Dair puts the weights back where he got them from–thank you!–and we walk over, wrap our hands, and put our gloves on.

  “This isn’t a fight, Jett. You’re going to go nice and easy. This is a footwork exercise. I want to see forward and backward. Up on your toes.”

  We start in a dance of sorts, rocking back and forth as we exchange light punches.

  “Keep those hands up,” One-Eyed Mike orders Dair.

  He slides back and drops his hands again. I tap him on the chest to get the point across.

  “Push and pull, gentlemen. Push and pull. You don’t have heels. Heels don’t exist. Up on your toes.”

  We bob and weave around the ring. Dair’s ankles are wobbling inside of five minutes.

  “All right, you’re done for now. Dair, I want to see you doing weighted calf raises every day. You need to strengthen up those ankles.”

  We get out of the ring and free our hands of the gloves and wraps.

  “Smoke?” I ask.

  He nods.

  We go outside, bracing against the chill in the air, and circle to the back of the building. After lighting up, I lean against the Mustang.

  “That yours?” he asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Nice.” He eyes the ancient Pontiac. “Who’s is that?”

  “One-Eyed Mike’s.”

  I can tell he’s trying to figure out why I get to park back here when everyone else has to find wherever they can on the street, but I’m not ready to divulge my living circumstances to him or anyone for that matter.

  “You been coming here the longest?”

  I shake my head then change the subject. “I’m thinking of going to the fight this Friday night just to watch. You want to go?” I figure he’s curious but probably hesitant to ask if he can go since he’s new.

  His face lights up. “Sure, what time?”

  “Nine. Meet here.” I point to the spot I’m standing.

  “Cool.” He takes a drag and exhales a cloud. “You think I could win some cash?”

  “Sure, if you bet on the right guy.”

  “Got any insider tips?”

  I hadn’t thought about betting, but now that he’s brought it up it sounds like a fine idea. “I’d bet on Mac. He may be an asshole, but the guy can fight. And I’d lay down on Ivan too. Not sure if they’re in the line-up or not though. It changes every time.”

  He nods. Then, with studied nonchalance that I know is anything but, asks, “Hey, so what school do you go to?”

  “Elmerton. You?”

  “Willow Run. Do you like Elmerton?”

  “Do I like school? No.” Why is he even asking me that? I should probably just test out but haven’t gotten around to looking into it yet. Or maybe I stay because no one, and I do mean no one, thinks Jett Dixon can actually graduate high school.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. But people there are nice though, right? I mean, like there’s not a lot of drug dealers and gangs and fighting and shit?”

  What’s he getting at? “It’s a mix like any other, I guess.”

  “Uh-huh.” He studies the ground, kicking at a protruding weed. “Do you … uh … know Mia Ward? Junior, kind of small, short brown hair, looks like a pixie.”

  A pixie, huh? “No, why?”

  “No reason.”

  Oh, there’s definitely a reason. Was she the girl that gave him “Dair”? “I can keep an eye out.”

  His face tells me everything. It’s definitely the “Dair” chick. And he wants her bad.

  The next morning, Lexi grabs my arm in the hall after homeroom. “Are you doing one of those fight things this coming Friday?”

  “Fighting in it? No, I only do that when I need the cash.”

  “Well, you need to stop needing the cash then.” Lexi grabs my chin and waggles my head back and forth. “What did I tell you about not damaging this gorgeous face of yours? It’s a gift. You need to take care of it.”

  I jerk out of her hand without responding.

  She reaches into her pocket, pulls something out, and presses it into my hand before darting into her class. It’s a twenty-dollar bill. What the hell? Does she think she can buy me now? That I’m a charity case? I’m tempted to wad it into a ball and throw it through the classroom door after her, but someone else might snatch it up before she sees what I’ve done.

  I stuff the money into my pocket and continue to Hackenburg’s history class. I have to give it to him. He tries to make his boring-ass lessons interesting at least. Today, he picks people to play famous historical figures in a debate. Two kids are tasked with debating the Cuban Missile Crisis from the perspectives of Nikola Tesla and Amelia Earhart, and I pay more attention than usual.

  In the afternoon, I hunt for Anna during lunch but can’t find her. Look at me chasing after a girl. I can’t say that’s ever happened before.

  As I’m looking, some random girl with a simpering smile says, “Hey, Jett.” How does she know me?

  Anna’s already sitting in the baseball dugout when I duck into it. She’s curled up in a ball with her knees to her chin and her arms wrapped around herself.

  “Hey,” I say. I like these private moments with her that are so quickly becoming part of our little routine. Just the two of us social outsiders sitting outside and telling the school rules to go to hell.

  “Hey.”

  I hand her a cigarette and hold out the flaming lighter for her to lean into. She takes a deep drag.

  “How are things going?” I ask, wishing I could think of something better to say.

  “As well as they can here.”

  “That Grant guy still after you?”

  Anna rolls her eyes. “God, he’s so clingy. I might go to the movies with him tomorrow night though.”

  Wait, what? “Why?”

  “I don’t know. What else is there to do? I sure as hell don’t want to sit at home with my mom.”

  Right. “Who else is going?”

  “No one. Just me and him.”

  My jaw clenches. Why didn’t I think to ask her to the movies? Of course she’d want to do that. Because that’s not me, that’s why. I don’t go on dates. I hang out and that’s usually fine with any other girl
because what she wants couldn’t happen in public anyway. “Well, if you want to hang out anytime, let me know.” I could punch myself in the head for how pathetic that sounded.

  “What are you doing this weekend?” she cocks her head.

  “I’ll be at the gym.”

  She nods and gazes over the baseball field.

  Shit. That wasn’t the right answer. “But we can do something if you want. Maybe get another bottle?” Hell yeah, if it leads to what it led to last time.

  She gives me a sideways glance as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking then hugs her oversized, pale-yellow sweater tighter around herself. “It’s always so cold here. And it’s only September thirtieth. It never got this cold in California. Not even in December. I hate to think how January’s going to be.”

  “Just think, you’ll be able to pop your snowman cherry,” I joke.

  She doesn’t respond, as if the comment had no relevance, and again looks into the distance.

  I take my black leather jacket off and drape it over her. It swamps her. She pulls the collar to her nose and inhales before nestling into it. When it’s time to go in, I tell her she can keep it and return it at the end of the day.

  During my afternoon study hall, I go to the gym, toss my t-shirt onto the bleachers, and select a basketball. Shooting hoops in the broad, solitary space clears my head. The steady beat of dribbling, shooting, and retrieving replaces all thoughts of home, the gym, Lexi, Anna, and everything that’s happened.

  I’m so absorbed in what I’m doing that Mrs. Kroft is inside the gym before I notice her. She looks nervous, unsure of herself in the open expanse of polished wood, like a rabbit that suddenly realizes it’s strayed too far into a field. The cover of the doorway, the safety of others in the hallway, are now several feet behind her.

  “Hey,” I flick my head to toss the bangs out of my eyes and stand with the basketball on my hip. “You haven’t come by in a few days.”

  She bites her bottom lip, a flush spreading up from the plunging V-neck of her shirt. I move toward her, closing the gap. Without her heels, she has to raise her chin to meet my gaze. She toys with one of her silver hoop earrings.

  “What’s on your mind?” I ask.

  “Oh, um …” Her eyes travel from one bicep to the other, then her gaze drops, but I know she’s not checking out the wood of the floor.

  I wait patiently as she gets her dose. “Take your time.”

  The flush races for her hairline and she looks off to the side, addressing the empty bleachers. “Um … I just wanted to let you know that I talked to Snedbecker.” I cock an eyebrow in surprise. She turns her attention to me, pausing to stare at the arch of my brow then clears her throat. “Yes, and he said it was fine for you to be in here during study halls.”

  Our eyes lock. I step closer. She swallows. Her eyes are a muddy green. I don’t think I ever noticed that before. They go well with her chestnut hair. “Thanks for checking things out for me.”

  Still gazing into my eyes, her lips part. She has on rosy-pink lipstick today. It would be easy to grab her, kiss her, and make all her fantasies come true.

  A strand of hair hangs loose from her messy bun. I’m on the verge of reaching for it to tuck it behind her ear when the janitor noisily wheels in his industrial-sized trashcan. The clatter echoes in the cavernous room. Mrs. Kroft blinks and steps back.

  “Sorry, folks,” the janitor says. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Mrs. Kroft breathes a laugh. “Oh, you’re fine. You didn’t interrupt anything.” Turning to me, she says too loudly, “So, I just wanted to let you know that, Jett.”

  “Thanks again for your attention to the matter, Mrs. Kroft,” I call after her retreating figure.

  As the janitor whistles tunelessly, I return the ball to the rack and put on my shirt.

  Chapter 13

  While I’m walking to last period, Lexi appears at my elbow and asks, “Did I see some girl wearing your jacket?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “She was cold.”

  “Jett.” She looks up at me with hurt eyes, pulls me to the side out of the shuffling herd of bodies, reaches up, wraps her hand in my thick hair, and pulls my face down to hers. Her lips are full yet yielding.

  Yeah, people are seeing us, but I give in to her soft warmth until she releases me. “Jett,” she says again. There’s a pleading in her eyes I don’t understand. What does she want from me? “I have cheer practice most weekends, so I can’t do anything then.”

  I’m confused. I didn’t ask her to do anything.

  “There’s an away game in a couple weeks on the sixteenth. They always give us a break the weekend after away games.”

  I wait for her point. The crowd rapidly thins as students scurry to get to class before the late bell.

  “We’ll do something then, okay?” Her blue eyes gaze up at me, seeking something. I pull away, but she grabs my arm. “Promise?”

  “I don’t kn—”

  “Please.”

  I sigh. “Sure.” Why the hell not?

  At the end of the day, I slump out of the school. Chaos has been swirling around my head. I hate that. I can’t figure Lexi out. What’s her game? What does she see in me? Is she just using me or does she genuinely like me?

  And what does Galloway have to do with any of it? He’s made it clear that they hang out. It makes sense that the two silver spoons would be together. So keep it simple. She just wants to have some fun. That’s all it is. That’s all it will ever be.

  As if he heard his name echoing in my thoughts, Carlton’s downy head appears in front of me blocking my path. He’s so all-American athlete with his perfectly coiffed blonde hair and chiseled features. Both of his parents are doctors and he oozes privilege. “So … Lexi, huh?”

  I step around him. What does he want?

  “Hey, Dixon, I’m talking to you.”

  “Yeah, but why?”

  “I want to know what your intentions are.”

  My intentions? Jesus Christ on a stick. Who does he think he is? He sounds like some uppity jerk from a BBC movie.

  “What’s it to you?” I keep moving. He puts a restraining hand on my arm. My eyes drop to it then back to his. “You want something, Galloway?” I let my tone convey that what he’s about to get is a face full of fist. He may be fit from tennis or polo or whatever preppy sport he plays, but I can take him.

  He let’s go of me and shrugs. “I’m good friends with Lexi. We’ve been friends a long time.”

  Anna walks by. Our eyes meet, hers slide to Carlton, and she walks away. She looked like she wanted to ask me something. Why do these people who have everything keep getting in the way of what I want?

  Carlton caught my glance with Anna. Of course he did. Why is he all up in my business anyway? I stop and turn to face him, my jaw and fists clenched.

  To his credit, he doesn’t back down but keeps his gaze steady. “I just don’t want to see her get hurt.”

  Fine. Whatever. None of that is my problem. Not Carlton. Not Lexi. I keep walking. He doesn’t follow.

  Anna is still wearing my jacket as she leans against the Mustang. It hangs to her knees.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Can we go for a drive?”

  I think about the waiting gym chores, not wanting to let One-Eyed Mike down since he’s being so generous, but find myself saying, “Sure, why not?” She rewards my response with a gorgeous grin, and I open the car door for her before getting into the driver’s seat. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Can we just drive around like we did before?”

  “Sure.”

  As we pass through the streets, she stares out her window. I’m wracking my brain for something interesting to say, something to cheer her up. But what ray of sunshine can I offer her? I’m sleeping in a gym due to a busted up, sucky home life for Christ’s sake.

  “How do you make friends?”

  I glance at her and snort. “I don�
�t.”

  “Oh, come on. I see you talking to lots of people in the halls. And you have a girlfriend. That blonde girl. What’s her name?”

  Lexi is the last thing I want to talk about. “Lexi.”

  “Yeah, she’s gorgeous. I wish I looked like that,” Anna sighs.

  I want to tell Anna that Lexi’s fake, too-made-up face, tight sweaters, and short skirts are trash compared to her refreshing simple, open soul. But I chicken out, settling for, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “So, you just go around making out with any girl in the hallway?” Anna’s tone tries for playful, but I don’t miss the edge to it.

  I run my hands through my hair wondering how to explain the past week. It’s hard to believe that’s all it’s been since Lexi seduced me in the girls’ locker room. “I don’t know what her game is.”

  “What makes you think it’s a game?”

  “She’s loaded. I mean like billionaire loaded. And I don’t exactly come from the right side of the tracks, if you know what I mean.”

  “That doesn’t matter. People can’t help who they fall in love with.”

  “It’s not love,” I say. The word feels as weird on my tongue as the concept does in my brain.

  “Maybe not for you, but how do you know it’s not for her?”

  “We don’t even know each other.” Do we? She’s pretty, popular, captain of the cheer squad, and friends with all the rich kids. That’s it. That’s all I know about Lexi Moore other than the carnal. She knows even less about me. As far as I know anyway. How could she possibly think she loves me?

  “Is love about knowing or feeling? I mean, I had a cat once. I loved that cat. I couldn’t tell you what it was ever thinking or when it would come if I called it and when it wouldn’t or anything like that, but I always wanted it near me and felt devastated when it died. So, what is love exactly?”