My mom would have done what she always did when emotions ran high. Avoid, deny, and hide. Sometime later she’d have taken me to buy a new top as if a killer outfit would help anything. In my mother’s world, a new wardrobe was the magic cure for any problem, especially those that might involve talking about actual issues. My mom didn’t do heart-to-heart talks. She did spa days, shopping trips and mani-pedis instead.
The only time I’d seen my mom cry was back when I was in grade school. She’d been going through a really tough time and the sight of her in tears had made me cry in turn because it was frankly kind of traumatizing to see my unemotional mother break down. But I’d never forget how horrified she’d been by my reaction. How disgusted. “Honey,” she’d said. “I might be crying now, but when I leave for work my eyes will be dry and my smile will be bright. And do you know why, sugar plum?”
I’d shaken my head.
“Because no one admires someone they pity.” She’d wiped my tears away and given me a bright smile that I returned out of habit. “Sympathy only gets you so far, darling. A smile gets you anywhere you want to go.”
Words to live by. That was how I planned to survive Monday.
When the dreaded day rolled around, it ended up being so much worse than anticipated. I made it through my classes with a smile but my friends were treating me like I’d developed the plague. Ryan refused to look at me. The school as a whole was treating me like I was either a leper or a joke.
After spending years being nice and inclusive, this was how I was repaid? I tried to squelch the anger, but it was there simmering beneath the surface.
The only people who were nice to me were Jason, Luke, and their girlfriends. And Matt, I supposed. But his kindness felt more like pity. Or maybe sympathy mixed with guilt. Either way, his polite small talk over lunch left me feeling cold.
And angry.
I didn’t know what it was about him, but whenever he spoke to me I got that surge of anger I’d felt back in the parking lot. I smothered it. I kept it under control, but every time I saw him I found myself thinking of everything he’d said that night. How he’d basically called me a shallow, fake, vapid plastic toy.
By the time Wednesday came around I’d started to think that the week couldn’t get any worse.
It could.
There were whispers going on and it didn’t take long for me to overhear what they were saying—I was pretty sure that the people doing the whispering wanted me to overhear.
The whispers were about me, of course. About how I was a slut, about how my ex dumped me because I was too much of a prude, about how Ryan dumped me after I’d slept with him because that was all he wanted from me. No one but me seemed to care that these rumors seemed to contradict one another. I mean, seriously, was I a slut or was I a prude?
I’d gone past humiliated and far beyond anger. These people talking about me were supposed to be my friends. I was tired of facing these backstabbing jerks with a smile. I couldn’t do it anymore, but I also couldn’t lose my cool. I’d spent years honing my image, it was a part of who I was. Besides, flipping out in the middle of the cafeteria would only be giving Cara what she wanted.
They were all waiting for a reaction from me and I refused to give it. This would fade in time. All scandals passed eventually, I just had to ride it out and then I’d be back on top. I knew that, but knowing didn’t make surviving the whispers and rumors any more pleasant.
By the time Thursday came to an end, I was desperate. I needed an escape. I couldn’t keep going on like this without snapping. I needed an out and I knew exactly where I wanted to go.
I just needed an in.
Chapter Five
Matt
All year I’d been thinking that guilt was the worst. It sucked, don’t get me wrong. Guilt was a useless emotion that was impossible to shake. But now I knew there was one far worse. Pity.
I hated pitying Julia Farrow, but how could you not? I mean, just look at her. Hard to believe that a full week hadn’t even passed since her friends tagged her because the world had completely shifted.
I guess there was some truth to that saying: the higher you climb, the harder you fall. It was like the whole school had been waiting for Julia Farrow to tumble and now that she had, they reveled in it.
The most popular girl in school was now the most mocked. The girl everyone had revered for years had been dragged off her pedestal. The girl who was a friend to everyone now looked like the loneliest person in the world as she sat by herself in the back of our history class.
Not to be too dramatic or anything, but this was pretty much Bizarro world.
And yeah, I had no doubt that Julia felt that way too. If anyone would appreciate a good Bizarro reference, it would be her. But perhaps now wasn’t the time to bring it up.
She had her head down throughout the whole class, seemingly focused on the book open in front of her, but I’d bet money she heard the whispers around her and felt the stares.
It was hard to watch, honestly. I mean, I’d seen documentaries about the survival of the fittest—you know, how the weakest gazelle was pounced on and devoured? But I never thought I’d witness it in real life.
Yet, here we were.
Up until a few days ago I would never have called Julia weak. Her perfect reputation and sterling personality made her pretty much untouchable.
That must have driven Cara nuts. How long had Cara been waiting for some little chink in Julia’s armor to appear? Years, most likely.
Wow, this whole situation really was like a comic book. I mean, Cara might as well have been Lex Luthor or…wait, who exactly was Supergirl’s arch nemesis?
That was a question for Julia.
Julia who wanted nothing to do with me. No matter how nice I was to her at lunch or in the halls, she still gave me that smile.
I truly hated that smile.
It was the fake one. The one she’d been hiding behind for years. With the oh-so-perfect Jason and the never-serious Luke, it was a different story. But then again, she considered them friends. Me? Not so much.
Class ended and I darted out of there before I had to witness any more wounded gazelle sadness.
Anyone else might have recovered quickly from a simple costume photo. Even Cara or Taylor or any of those other cheerleader bimbos would have recovered within a matter of days. But Julia was a different story. She was in a different league altogether.
People in her league rarely, if ever, stepped foot inside the newspaper office, which was where I planned to spend the last hour of my day. I was leaving for the comics convention in the morning and I had research to do.
It was impossible to learn everything there was to know about the comics world in less than a week, but I’d been trying. Reading some of the latest releases, catching up on the bigger blogs on comics, that sort of thing. I was doing just that when Julia showed up in my office.
Well, it was the room devoted to the newspaper staff, but I liked to think of it as my office. “Hey,” I said.
She just stood there, staring at me with pursed lips and a furrowed brow.
“Uh, can I help you?”
“You can, actually.”
I straightened in my seat, not because of her words but because of her tone. It shook slightly with emotion. In fact, her whole body seemed to be vibrating with barely suppressed emotion. Her jaw was clenched tight and her eyes flashed with intensity. She didn’t look anything like the perfect, smiley, always-happy cheerleader I’d been going to school with these last ten years or so.
She looked fierce, and proud, and strong. And freakin’ gorgeous. I tried to swallow but my mouth had gone dry. “Uh, what can I do for you?”
Her nostrils flared and her eyes snapped with anger. “You can take me with you to the comics convention in Philly.”
I stared at her for so long we both started shifting with discomfort. “You…you…wait, what?”
She licked her lips, and for a second I thought I saw hesitation. Wo
rse, I thought I saw a flicker of desperation in her eyes. Oh man, I couldn’t handle a desperate Julia. It was bad enough that I pitied her, I didn’t want to feel this new urge to save her.
If there was one person in the world who didn’t need a savior it was Julia. The girl was doing just fine on her own.
Was she? a voice nagged. She didn’t seem to be doing so great at the moment…
“You can get extra passes, right?” she said, bypassing the desk to come to a stop right in front of me.
“Uh…” The fact that I already had an extra pass burning a hole in my wallet kept me from coming up with any sort of coherent response.
She moved closer and her skinny jeans were suddenly filling my view. I had to crane my neck to look up at her. I so did not need to get caught staring at her legs.
For the record, she had killer legs. Like…killer.
“You can, right?” she demanded.
“Maybe.” It came out as a croak. Holy crap, this girl was on fire. Now that she was so close, I could see it in her eyes, I could feel her energy. She still had the same gorgeous face, the same big blue eyes, the same long wavy blonde hair, but this girl standing before me right now?
I’d never seen her before in my life.
This was a whole new Julia Farrow and she literally took my breath away. I couldn’t draw in air for the life of me.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she snapped with a frown.
“Uh…” I was seriously deprived of oxygen. How could a guy think without air?
She planted her hands on her hips. “You owe me, Cartwright.”
Maybe it was the use of my last name or the firmness in her voice, but I finally drew in a deep breath and came to my feet so she was no longer looming over me. “I owe you?”
She tilted her chin up in defiance and met my gaze head-on. “You said it yourself, this situation I’m in is partly your fault.”
“Partly,” I said quickly, latching on to that out. “Only partly. It’s not my fault your friends are a bunch of sadistic creeps.”
Wrong thing to say, apparently. Her frown deepened and she was glaring up at me.
Holy crap. Have I mentioned how hot she was when she got all Xena Warrior Princess?
“They might be ‘creeps,’” she said with dismissive air quotes to let me know just how lame that word was. “But you’re the one who started all this. The least you can do is help a girl out.”
“Help a girl out?” I repeated. “How is going to another comics convention going to help this situation?”
Her eyes widened and some of her fury seemed to fade. Oh no. Oh no no no. I definitely could not handle it if she cried.
She licked her lips again and I tried not to watch. She had a sexy mouth. Empirically I’d always known this, but being here alone with her? It suddenly seemed to be all I knew.
“I need to get away for a while, okay?” Her voice had softened a bit, along with her gaze and her voice.
I was ruined. There was no way I could argue with this vulnerable, sweet person in front of me, the flip side of the warrior I’d just witnessed and just as foreign. I’d never seen this side of Julia, either. Or at least, not so clearly. I’d caught glimpses this week, but she was always so quick to cover up any vulnerability with a smile. To hide any emotions whatsoever behind a blank stare and a mindless grin.
“You’re going to run away?” I didn’t actually mean it to sound so judgmental but she flinched like I’d just hit her.
“It’s not running away, it’s…” She looked away and I saw her throat move as she swallowed. “It’s regrouping.”
Her rephrasing startled a laugh out of me, and when she looked back she wore a rueful smile. “Okay, maybe it’s running away.”
I held my hands up. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’ve always been quite fond of running from a fight.”
She laughed and then bit her lip and gave her head a little shake. “I don’t normally run from anything but…” Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath. “I need to breathe, you know?”
I nodded. Oddly enough, I did know.
She looked up at the ceiling as she sighed. “I just feel like the walls are closing in and I need some space to figure out what I’m going to do. I need to remember…oh, forget it.” She sighed again as she dropped her gaze to meet mine. Then she forced a smile and I knew she was about to retreat; she was about to slip back behind that mask of hers.
I leaned forward slightly, stopping myself just in time before I could reach for her. “No, don’t stop,” I said. “What do you need to remember?”
Her eyes widened for a second and I could have sworn I watched her inner debate as her eyes flickered over my face, probably trying to see if I would mock her for her honesty.
I would never. I tried to tell her that with my eyes, and maybe it worked.
“I need to remember who I am.”
Something in my chest squeezed so painfully it nearly left me crippled.
She let out a breathy laugh and shook her head. “That sounds stupid.”
“It doesn’t.” She probably hadn’t even heard that because it came out all raspy and low. But something about what she’d said struck a nerve and I felt like I’d been knocked off my feet even though I was still standing. I knew what she was feeling; I knew it so well I could almost feel it myself—that need to be grounded. To forget about the world around you, to shake off the perceptions people had of you, and go back to the basics. For me, it usually meant hanging out with Suzie and Margo, people who knew me better than anyone.
“I get it,” I said. Her eyes met mine and I realized how presumptuous that sounded. “I mean, I think I understand.”
She blinked and shifted from foot to foot as she wrung her hands together in an uncharacteristically revealing display of nerves. “Yeah, well, maybe you can explain it to me someday.” She smiled and this time it was real. “So? Will you help me get in? I’d buy a ticket of my own but it’s been sold out for months and I—”
“Yeah,” I said quickly before I could overthink it. “You can have my guest pass. Of course you can.”
She blinked a couple of times and the relief in her eyes made me want to pull her against me and hug her tight. I shoved my hands in my pockets instead.
“Okay, cool,” she said.
“We leave tomorrow,” I told her. “I’ll pick you up at noon?”
“It starts at noon,” she told me. “Pick me up at ten.”
I laughed. “Okay, fine. Ten it is.”
* * *
Margo’s voice in my bedroom doorway a few hours later echoed what I’d been thinking. “What were you thinking?”
I spun around from my packing to find Margo standing there glaring at me. The glare would have been only slightly more frightening if she wasn’t decked out in her full marching band regalia. She was in rehearsals for a band competition and I knew better than to tease her for not taking the time to change. She was clearly not in the mood for teasing. Lately, she hadn’t been in the mood for much from me—I was lucky if she let me speak without silencing me with a glare.
“Margo,” I said pleasantly. “What a nice surprise.”
She pursed her lips and planted her hands on her hips. “Julia told Jason that you’re taking her to that comics thing in Philly this weekend.”
I nodded. “We leave tomorrow morning.” I wasn’t sure how Julia had managed to get out of school on Friday but I’d gotten a special leave since this was technically for my internship.
Margo stared at me as if waiting for me to continue. There was no way I was going to offer up any explanations willingly. Why? Because I was having a hard enough time rationalizing my actions to myself. I could have said no. I could easily have lied or come up with some excuse for why I couldn’t give her my free pass. Why hadn’t I?
“Where will she stay?” Margo asked.
I opened my mouth and then paused. I couldn’t say I hadn’t thought about it. I had. I was a warm-blooded hum
an male, after all. The fact that I was going away with Julia Farrow on an out-of-town trip had sparked more than a few thoughts of what if, each more ludicrous than the last.
I’d been sure to dash any of these errant thoughts before they could truly form. This was not some sort of romantic getaway, this was Julia’s means of escaping reality for a little while. I could respect that.
Besides, I wasn’t exactly a player. I’d never even had a real girlfriend before. While the totally normal male portion of my brain might have had some crazy daydreams brewing, the rational part knew very well that it would a) never happen and b) be a truly horrible idea even if it did. I wasn’t one to mess around with random girls, and I didn’t like her as anything more than a friend.
Not even as a friend. I didn’t like her, period.
Did I?
“You look like you ate a turnip.” Margo knew me well enough to know that turnips were the bane of my existence. My mom loved to cook them and I thought they tasted like the devil’s turds. So, you know, her comment wasn’t exactly a compliment.
I rubbed the nape of my neck. “Yeah, well…” I cleared my throat. How to explain that I’d been distracted by the fact that I might actually kinda sorta like Julia Farrow. Just as a friend, of course. But when on earth had that happened? I’d never had much love for anyone in the popular crowd, least of all its saccharine sweet leader. I had no time for fake people and she was as fake as they came.
Except, she wasn’t. Not always, at least. And in those rare moments when she was being herself, she was actually rather…charming.
I flashed back to the way she’d glared at me. Maybe charming wasn’t entirely accurate.
She was electric.
Margo loudly cleared her throat. “Ahem.”
I blinked a few times. “Sorry, what?”
She arched one expressive brow. “Don’t play dumb. What is going on with you two?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Julia wanted to go to the convention and I had a ticket. That’s it.”
“Uh huh.”
I didn’t even believe it myself, which was saying something. I mean, I’d been there. I knew very well that there was nothing going on between us. Still, I hated the way Margo was looking at me.
Once Upon a Comic-Con: Geeks Gone Wild #3 Page 5
