by Seven Steps
“But they’ve been together for, like, ever,” Ariel said.
“We’re talking about Dana here. The Mistress of all evil.”
I looked over at Julissa and Chad. Once part of the royal court, they were now sitting one table over from us, with just each other to keep them company.
They were the sacrificial lambs used to make a powerful point. That Dana was no one to trifle with. She was mean, domineering and sometimes downright cruel. And yet, she fascinated me. I took in everything about her. Her walk. The way she spoke. Her clothes. Her perfect hair. I’d never tell my friends, but I secretly wondered what it was like to be her. To have a perfect life, with perfect looks and a perfect boyfriend. To be seen. To be listened to. To have Jake. If I was her, I would never have let Jake go, no matter what.
I turned back to the boys table, watching as Jake laughed hysterically at something that Eric said.
Ariel sighed next to me. Her obsession with Eric Shipman had started in sixth grade and five years later, it was still going strong.
“You should talk to him,” I whispered.
She shrugged. “With you girls, I am a mountain of confidence. Around Eric, not so much.”
“I’m sure he’d love you,” I replied.
“That’s the problem. I know he would.” She worried her lower lip before continuing. “I see him online every night. We play the same online RPG game, Ogre Wars. Our characters talk to each other all the time. We like the same music and tv shows. We both like video games and swimming. We have so much in common online, but out here in the real world, I can’t even get close to him.” Her shoulders slouched, and she pushed her sandwich away.
“You should tell him who you are in the game,” I said. “Maybe he’ll be into it.”
She shook her head. “What if he doesn’t like me out here in reality? What if he thinks that I’m ugly or weird or I smell funny? What if his friends don’t accept me?”
“You’ll never know until you try,” Jasmine said.
Ariel smiled sadly. “Maybe one day.” She let out a breath and cheered a bit. “I don’t see you walking up to boys and making conversation,” she said, playfully nudging Jasmine’s arm.
“That’s because I’m not in to high school boys. Besides, I don’t have the time. Between school, family and you two, I’m swamped.”
I chuckled. In the years that I’d known her, Jasmine had never publicly admitted to liking a boy at this school.
“So,” Ariel turned to me, “Jasmine’s out for The Center. I guess it’s just me and you?” Ariel asked.
“Yup. Maybe for the last time.”
“Why? Are you grounded or something?” Jasmine asked, leaning across the table to hear me better in the loud lunch room.
“Not yet. But Mr. Coggs told me that I’m failing French.”
“What do you mean he told you?” Jasmine asked. She relaxed, and put her butt back on the bench. “You already knew you were failing French.”
“Yes, but I was hoping that he didn’t.”
She laughed, flipped her jet-black hair behind her, put down her sandwich and stabbed at her salad.
“Anyway, he signed me up for French tutoring during study hall, starting today. If I don’t ace my next test, he’ll call my dad, which will mean that I’ll be on serious lock down until my grades come back up.”
“How do you fail French class?” Ariel asked. “You’re French!”
“For the millionth time, I am not French. Just because my last name is French, doesn’t mean that I am French.”
Jasmine laughed at Ariel and received a scowl in return.
The lunch bell rang, ending our lunch period and sending us to American History with Mrs. Onofrio. After passing notes and barely paying attention for forty-five minutes, I waved goodbye to Jasmine and Ariel and walked in to seventh period study hall, my mind on anything but studying.
In less than two years, I’d be graduating. What legacy would I leave behind? Would it be just footprints in the sand or would they talk about me for years to come? Could I make a significant impact on this school? God knew I wished for it. The thought of being insignificant made me want to run headfirst in to traffic. I feared that my life was just words written in faded pencil on a discarded shred of paper. Something to glance at and never think of again. I feared that I was nothing here. The messed-up part was, I tried my best to be content with my lot in life. But secretly, deep down in my heart, I wanted to sit at the cool table. I wanted to be popular. I wanted to be Dana Rich.
The thought shamed me. Plus, if my friends knew what I was thinking, they would probably never talk to me again and I couldn’t have that. I loved Jasmine and Ariel. They were the first ones to talk to me when I moved to New York from North Carolina the beginning of Freshman year. They brought me into their fold without question or thought. They didn’t care that I didn’t have as much money as them, or that my family wasn’t whole, or that my two French braids inspired teases and taunting. They embraced me for who I was. All of me. The three of us were a team. Three pieces of one heart. If anyone messed with one of us, they messed with all of us. It would be treasonous for me to turn my back on them and to pursue a life of popularity that, frankly, I probably wasn’t built for anyway.
“Were you thinking about me?”
A deep voice startled me, jerking me from my thoughts. My head whipped around and up, and I gasped. Cole stood over me, book bag tight to his shoulder, blue eyes looking down at me in the smiling sort of way.
I groaned. Literally.
My tutor was Cole Winsted. What did God have against me? What did I ever do to deserve such punishment?
“You know,” he slid into the seat next to me, dropping his bookbag on the floor. “When Mr. Cogg told me that I would be tutoring one of his students in French, I never thought it would be you. Especially after that speech earlier. How exactly do you plan on beating me out for valedictorian when you have a sixty-seven average in French?”
I bit the inside of my cheek and stood.
“I’d rather die than have you tutor me in anything,” I growled, picking up my bookbag and starting toward the door.
“Suit yourself. Enjoy permanent lockdown when your father finds out about your swiftly falling GPA.”
I stopped halfway to the door.
He had me.
I hated him.
I turned around to face him.
“What do you want, Cole?” I asked.
He put his hand over his heart like the question physically pained him.
“Me? I just want to see a fellow student succeed.”
This was torture! It was like the entire teacher body had conspired against me. First Ms. Mitchell, now Mr. Cogg.
“Come on, French. Sit down and we’ll have you talking like Joan of Arc in no time.” He squinted. “Oh, sorry. Joan of Arc was French. I meant that we’d have you speaking French in-”
“I know who Joan of Arc was!” I snapped, stomping back to the table and throwing my bag down.
I glared at Cole, infusing all my hatred toward him in one, single look.
“Ground rules,” I said. “No making fun of me while you tutor me. That means no jokes, no weird faces, no nothing.”
“Are you sure? Girls like my weird faces.”
“I don’t like them. At all.”
“Suit yourself.”
I pulled out my notebook and my French textbook and opened them.
“Let’s just get this over with.”
He nodded. “Sure. Where should we start? Oh. I have the perfect thing. French fries,” he paused dramatically, “are not French.”
I closed my book. I couldn’t do this. Not with him.
“Neither are French bull dogs or French kissing.”
“I’m leaving.”
I shoved my books into my book bag to the sound of his laughter bouncing off the walls. So much like his brother’s. It must’ve run in the family.
“No. Come on, French. Don’t leave. Lighten up.�
�
He grabbed my hand, stopping me from picking up my pen from the table.
I glared at him and he immediately released me. Both of his hands raised in the air as if he were a criminal and I a police officer.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Look. Just sit down. No more jokes. I promise. We’ll get right to work.”
I knew I shouldn’t have believed him. Cole was not to be trusted. But I needed to pass French and he was my best shot at doing that.
I sat down.
He cleared his throat and opened his book.
“Okay, okay. Chapter one.”
I peered at him, waiting for more jokes at my expense. More humiliation. When it didn’t come, I pulled my French book back out.
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll start with the basics. French toast is not French.”
Within five seconds, I was out the door with Cole’s laugh chasing me down the hallway.
Lesson learned. Never trust a Winsted.
13
Ariel and I walked in to Mr. Reynold’s science class, taking our seats in the back of the room.
Only half my brain listened as the thin, youngish teacher showed us a video presentation about electrons. The other half of my brain was concerned with other things. Like random song lyrics, dinner and the new thrift shop that opened on 54th street.
Midway through the video and my musings, Ariel leaned over and tapped me on the shoulder. Her flame red hair was braided to one side now, her freckles dark against her pale skin. She picked up her pencil and ran the rough eraser across her cheek.
“Hey. The Center put in a new pool table over the weekend. We should learn how to play.”
Ariel’s father donated The Center to St. Mary’s Academy a few years ago. It was his way of giving the students a safe environment to hang out in after school.
“Sure,” I said. Learning pool in front of the entire school couldn’t be any more embarrassing than ripping my skirt in front of Jake, right? God. I hoped not. I couldn’t take anymore embarrassment right now.
Ariel put down her pencil and gave me a sly smile.
“I’m sure that Jake and Eric will be there.” Her eyebrows wiggled and I suppressed a laugh.
“Probably. But I’m done with Jake. Let’s focus on you and Eric for now.”
If today had shown me anything, it was that a relationship with Jake was no more than a dream. A farfetched, unattainable dream. It was time to move on. Besides, I didn’t need a boyfriend in my life. I could have fun with just my friends. Jasmine and Ariel were ten times more entertaining than a boyfriend could ever be, anyway.
The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I sighed. Why couldn’t I have picked a real boy instead of a dream one?
Finally, the bell had rung, announcing the end of the school day. I practically jumped out of my chair, ready to unwind, have some fun, and apparently, learn to play pool. Ariel walked next to me out the door and together, we joined the waves of students that rushed toward the exit.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted dark hair and turned toward it. Cole was staring at me. When he saw me looking back at him, he winked, turned and moved deeper in to the crowd.
God. How I hated him.
Someone shoved me from behind, knocking away thoughts of Cole and pushing me outside.
It was the beginning of November, and the unseasonably warm late autumn sunshine warmed my skin. The ground shook as subway cars roared through darkened tunnels beneath our feet. Skyscrapers stood tall around us. Sunlight reflected in their glass windows, making it seem as if they were winking. It smelled like burning gasoline, dirty concrete and the body odor of hundreds of students trying to find their way home.
That’s New York for you.
After three years, I still wasn’t completely used to it. I missed the country fresh air of North Carolina. The grass, the wide-open spaces, the buildings that had birthed generations of families and that had seen wars come and go. New York air smelled like electricity. North Carolina air smelled like home.
It took Ariel and I a little under fifteen minutes to walk the five blocks to The Center. It looked identical to the dozens of gray apartment buildings on the block.
Ariel rang the bell and a voice answered.
“Name?”
“Ariel Swimworthy and Bella French.”
The door buzzed and I followed Ariel inside and up the stairs where a tall, slim man with a large nose and a dress shirt sat behind a half moon desk. He saw us and a smile slid onto his thin lips.
“Ms. Swimworthy. Ms. French,” he said. “Good to see you two today.”
“Hey, Grim,” we replied in unison. “Jinx!” we said together again.
Grim rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time we’d done this. We pretty much did it every time we came here, which was several times a week.
“Ariel Swimworthy and Bella French,” he replied, irritation coloring his voice. Our full names released the jinx and we giggled at each other.
“You know, you are the only girls whose name I have to say twice.” He put his hands on his hips. “The next time you jinx each other, I’m going to let you stay silent forever.”
“You know you love the banter, Grim,” Ariel said with a smile.
Grim shook his head with a fake frown. “No, actually. I really don’t.”
Ariel signed her name on a clipboard, then she pushed the clipboard to me.
Grim seemed like he’d be better suited working in a fancy hotel or restaurant instead of a teen hang out spot. I often wondered why he worked here instead of some place which probably had a much higher rate of pay.
I slid the clipboard back toward him and smiled politely. “Until next time,” I said with a raised brow.
Grim raised his brow, too. “Until next time, Ms. French.”
Ariel grabbed my hand and led me through a set of glass doors and in to the heart of The Center.
Two large air hockey tables were in the middle of the room. To my right, a group of guys were split between three big TV screens, playing a football video game. To my left, various girls were sitting at a manicure station, getting their nails and feet done. Weights clanged from the weight room near the bathrooms. One floor up, there was a pool, and one floor down was a basketball court. The tennis courts were on the first floor, and there was a full track, complete with a collapsible dome, on the roof.
Triton Swimworthy spared no expense.
Next to the video game section, several girls were hovering around Dana and Dustin, who were deep in a make-out session.
I closed my eyes and hoped that Jake didn’t see. Something like this would really hurt him. I know that if I were Jake, I would be crushed.
“Babe, you’re here!”
Jake Winsted’s blue eyes hooked onto mine. He looked as if he’d been waiting for me all his life.
My stomach dropped in to my feet.
Was I dreaming? I had to be. Did I fall and hit my head on the stairs? Had a train fallen off the tracks and crushed me on my way here? Was I in my own particular slice of heaven?
Yes. Yes, it had to be heaven. Jake’s eyes were so warm and dreamy that this couldn’t be anything earthly. It had to be ethereal.
His long, strong legs quickly covered the space between us. His eyes were still glued to mine. I couldn’t look away if I wanted to.
I didn’t want to.
My heart banged so hard in my ears that I could barely hear what he was saying. It sounded like I’m so glad to see you, but I couldn’t be sure. Any thoughts of getting over Jake immediately flew from my mind when he stopped inches in front of me. I felt a goofy smile spread across my face. I panted instead of breathed. My palms misted with sweat.
His strong hands slid up my cheeks, warming my face. He leaned forward and the world slowed down. He pressed his lips to mine and my heart stopped. My lungs locked. My knees wobbled. I was excited and nervous and afraid and elated all at once. The raging emotions bolted my feet to the floor and sto
le the thoughts from my mind. My stomach tied in knots. Every nerve in my body lit up like a Christmas tree. Goosebumps spread from my forehead to my toes.
Then my mouth remembered what it was supposed to do and I kissed him back, my lips clinging to his. My fingers tangled in the golden strands of his hair and I pulled him closer. I stepped closer.
I swore that my feet lifted from the floor in pure ecstasy. Jake Winsted was kissing me and it was glorious.
Or it would have been, had it lasted longer.
All too soon, his soft lips pulled away, leaving me surprised, embarrassed, breathless and tingly all over. My fingertips touched where his lips had been.
What. Just. Happened?
My eyes drunk in his beautiful face as he pulled away. His blue eyes looked surprised, his ruddy skin flushed, as if he couldn’t believe he’d just done that.
I didn’t believe it either.
“It’s cool,” he whispered, almost apologetically. “Just be cool.”
The magnitude of what just happened slowly sunk in to my brain.
Jake Winsted, my dream boy, had just kissed me and I’d kissed him back. My heart beat so erratically that I thought it would explode. I wanted to jump for joy, clap my hands and fling myself into his arms again but before I could, he grabbed my hand and dragged me in to the hallway.
Behind us, the door slammed shut.
14
The instant the door closed, Jake let go of my hand, leaned against the wall, put his hands on his knees and heaved in a breath.
Two windows showed pale, yellow light in to the hallway, illuminating the white washed walls and revealing red rust on the staircase railing.
My lips hummed. My body prickled. I’d never felt so alive or so confused.
Jake’s kiss had played out in my head a million times but I never thought that it would actually happen. Why today? Why now?
He kept his eyes on the floor as he struggled to get his breathing under control. He was dressed like an All-American boy with his pink polo shirt, blue jacket, light gray pants that matched his eyes and loafers. The clothes were simple but he made them look like they were fresh from the runways of Paris.
