by Nora Cobb
My shoulders sink as I slide down into the seat, and I don’t give a shit about model posture. The sun is setting on the opposite side of the building, and the windows are inky black as they reflect our grim expressions. It's not even four. Winter can be depressing. Ms. Petrenko gets up and shuts the classroom door.
“You don’t have to talk.” She leans on her desk again. “But I want you to listen. I’m not going to say I know it’s tough because I don’t know what you’re going through. But you need to talk to someone you’ll listen to.” She narrows her eyes intensely as if to make a point. “Because just knowing you in this short time, I can tell that you’re becoming your own problem.”
I hear Lucas again, telling me that I have become like Arielle. The last person I ever thought I would become—a rich stuck-up girl that plays with boys’ emotions. It isn’t fair that I’m becoming the monster that Lucas, Jacob, and Troy created. And maybe they created Arielle too. Perhaps we do have more in common than I want to think about.
“It’s okay.” My tone is stressed as I sit up. “I can deal with Jacob. He’s not like the rest of Montlake.”
“No, Jacob isn’t, but that doesn’t mean he’s a solution.” Ms. Petrenko gets up and stands behind her desk, placing distance between us. Am I a lost cause? She stares hard, and her tone is thoughtful as she sums me up. “Do you play chess, Natalie?”
“I know how to play, but I wouldn’t say I’m good at it.” I wipe my eyes. “Why?”
“Because you’re playing checkers in a game of chess.”
“Nicely put,” I reply.
“I see a lot more than you think.” She sits down in her chair, resuming her authority. “We don’t have to involve Cromwell this time.”
I swallow, knowing that if I say too much, Ms. Petrenko will have to break that well-intended promise. “I have a bad reputation.” I make eye contact with Ms. Petrenko, and her tight frown tells me that she might know more than I think she knows. “I don’t deserve it. I’m not entirely to blame. I keep being played until I have a hard time trusting anyone else’s feelings toward me.”
“What about your feelings toward yourself?” Her judgment is for another reason. “I get it. There are a lot of cute guys, and you’re like a girl with an unlimited gift card online. But instead of thinking about what you want, what do you need?”
“That’s a good question,” I say softly.
“Natalie, these rich kids aren’t here to fall in love. They’re here to build alliances for their family names. You’re playing the game with the wrong rulebook.”
“You mean the code?” I reply softly.
“Yes, the code.” She laughs bitterly. “I’m a poor teacher, so I won’t pretend to know the nuances of their lives—no matter how much I try to learn. But I have noticed one thing. Children assess worth by looking at the surface. Adults determine worth by examining everything else. One pretty face is the same as any other to this group. But wealth, and more importantly, power, is the only measure of worth to them.
“Be honest and upfront to yourself first, and then to them. They’ll respect you for it. Do you really need to have a boyfriend now? Because chances are it will end at graduation if you can’t bring anything to their family’s table.”
“It sounds so cold.”
“Dating at Montlake is cold—just like a game of chess, my dear. Each piece has a different worth. You have to know what your worth is. More importantly, you have to be honest about what your worth is.” Ms. Petrenko stands and walks over to the desk beside me. I feel the closeness again between us and what she’s telling me she would never have taken the risk to say to another student.
“So, what am I? A pawn that has to get out of the way for a queen?”
“I hate to see a good kid struggle. Don’t lose yourself in the game. But if you play, you play to win. Jacob may be a good choice for you now because he needs help with calculus, and you need the protection he can offer.”
“So, I should date him?”
“It all depends on what you need. For now, you need his protection. A rook may be a good piece. But the board may change, and you must change with it. And sometimes, it means sacrificing your rook.”
It’s sinking in as my mind works through what I’ve heard. “So Montlake is about using people? Even the guy you date?”
“It’s about evaluating them because they’re doing it to you. It’s okay to ask a guy why he likes you. And you better get a legit answer.”
“Okay, so someone that I need, not only want.”
“Someone that’ll help you reach the end of the game in one piece.” Ms. Petrenko corrects me. “Any pawn can become a queen if she makes it to the end. But first, you have to survive.”
***
Standing on the doorstep, my knees tremble as I press the front doorbell of Jacob’s house. My chest tightens, making my breathing noticeable as misty breaths obscure my face. I shouldn’t have come back here. Stepping back, I stare up at the brick façade, and I wonder if it’s a trick. Who else is inside? I look over at Jacob’s Hummer parked in the driveway, and unless the other cars are hidden behind it, he’s home alone.
“Hey, Nat.” A solemn Jacob opens the front door.
I step inside the hall and go no farther. My knees lock tight, and I can’t move as I stare up the staircase that leads to the bedroom. Jacob follows my gaze, and he swears.
“I wasn’t thinking,” he mutters.
He reaches for my hand and tugs at it. I start moving forward again. We walk past the dining room, and like a service dog, Jacob leads me into the kitchen. The brightly lit kitchen shines with pristine hunter granite surfaces and newly painted sage cabinets.
“Did you have the kitchen redone?” I ask, astounded by the obvious expense.
“Yeah.” Jacob shakes his head in disgust. “My mother insisted that everything in the house be replaced. Are you hungry?” He flings open the matte door on the refrigerator and hands me a Gatorade.
He just glossed over the reason why the entire house has been redecorated. Judging by how the house was trashed that night, it suddenly occurs to me.
“Were you grounded?” I ask.
“Mom found a used condom under her pillow and lost it. Dad hasn’t touched her in years, so I was blamed. I got dragged to hell and back after that.” He flops onto a stool at the counter island. “I’ll have to graduate from college before they let me out of this house again.”
Jacob pauses and looks at me. I know what he’s thinking, but he won’t say it. Not because Jacob thinks it’s rude to ask, but because he’s already made up his mind.
“So, are you hungry?”
I walk away from him and sit down at a small breakfast table. Shrugging my shoulders, I ask, “What do you have?”
“Delivery.”
“No way.” I stare in disbelief. “You have a brand new kitchen, and no one uses it?” I jump up, open the fridge, and poke my nose inside. “Talk about meal prep.” I look in wonder at the stacks of food containers inside. “Why don’t you heat something up?”
He stands beside me, looking at the food. “Do I look like a girl?”
I punch his upper arm, and it hurts my hand. He is rock-solid, just standing still and doing nothing. “Jeez, what have you been doing, Steroid King?”
Jacob scoffs, and then his dimples pop as he smiles in that teasing way. “You need to exercise.”
He puts up his fists and playfully starts sparring with me, jumping back and forth like a pro. Shielding myself, I squeal so loudly that I sound like a house alarm.
“Just like a girl,” he laughs, and his dark hair falls into his sparkling eyes. “Come on, Nat. You know you want to hit me.”
Balling up my fist as tight as I can, I try my best, but Jacob ducks and grabs me by the waist. Holding me from behind, he bounces me around like a rag doll as I laugh in hysterics.
“Stop it. You’re tickling me, you goof.”
“This is how I pump up, little lady. I bench press bony
chicks.” He lifts my feet off the ground, and I lean into his hard body. I know Lucas is strong. I’m not sure about Anthony, but if I need someone to fight the world, Jacob is the man.
Laughing, I get away only because he lets go of me. Wiping the tears off my eyes, I notice that I only cry from laughter around Jacob. I yank the fridge open again and pull out a container that looks like broccoli and chicken. “I’ll microwave this while you get the plates.”
We spend the next hour studying at the breakfast table. After a few equations, we’re back in our groove. Uncontrollably, I giggle as Jacob offers me a mint and flashes his dimples. That’s subtle like a pop-up.
“Time for a break.”
“Okay,” I smile, “you earned one.”
Stretching my back, I toss my pencil down and look out the patio window toward the pool that’s covered for the winter. I’m relieved that the house looks different than the last time I was here. It would’ve been too hard to sit here if it had looked the same.
Jacob leans his chin on his arm, resting on the table. “Can I ask you a question?”
Lazily, I smile at him as I flip my notebook to a clean page and pick up my pencil. “What do you want to know?”
“Are you with Lucas again?”
The sharpened pencil slips out of my hands as I break the point against the paper. I wasn’t expecting that question. Ms. Petrenko’s advice is in my mind.
I shake my head, avoiding his fixed gaze. “We talk, but we’re not together.”
“Arielle is off him, and he’s looking at you again.”
My laugh is short and bitter, barely hiding my feelings. “And Lucas also told me that I remind him of Arielle in a bad way.”
“Whoa, why did he say that?”
“Do you think he’s right?”
His lips turn thin as his jaw becomes set. Jacob’s not going to answer me. His determination means that he’ll keep the upper hand, and I'll answer my question myself.
“Who do you want more?” His voice is firm as I squirm on the hot seat.
“I haven’t thought about it.”
Jacob scoffs. “Bullshit. Let’s play a game. Pretend it’s a math problem. If you were stuck on a deserted island...”
“Oh, you’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not. You’re starring on Naked On an Island, or some shit like that. Who would you want to be stranded with?”
“Don’t be stupid.” I try to laugh, but I squirm more.
Staring hard, Jacob waits for an answer. And I answer him with Ms. Petrenko’s words. “Why do you want me?”
Instantly, he replies, “You’ve seen me at my worst, and you’re okay with that. In fact, you care enough to help me do better.”
I’m not expecting that and tears well up in my eyes. It’s thoughtful and maybe, he thinks about us when I’m not around.
“So, what about me?” he asks.
But Jacob doesn’t wait for an answer as he leans into me. His hand is cradling the back of my head as he pulls me into a kiss. His lips are soft, and I can taste the mint on his tongue. I place my hands on his shoulders to make some space and feel the muscles under his tight sweatshirt. My hands linger as my heartbeat picks up a notch.
“I want you,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“Because you’re stronger than you think. And somehow, after all the shit that's happened, I can trust you.”
Jacob smiles softly. He tugs my hips out of the chair and toward his lap. I almost fall, but I wrap my arms around him and hold onto his shoulders as we kiss again. I let go of my doubts. And I press against him, knowing that he’s the one I should be with. Code or not. He must be the one. The warm room feels stuffier as the sound of our breathing masks all the other noises.
“Jacob.”
We pull apart, and an older man is standing at the counter island. He has to be Jacob’s father. The similarities are pronounced, except the older man has a permanent scowl on his lined face. One envelope at a time, he is tossing the day's mail down on the counter. “We discussed when you could have guests.”
“This is Natalie. She’s tutoring me.”
“Natalie Page?” The man stares at me as if he expected someone else.
I nod my head, wondering how he knows my last name. He doesn’t look too friendly, and I don't blame him. It must cost a lot to redo a house after your son's wild party.
“Natalie, this is my father, Thomas Fleming. Dad, this is Natalie.”
I’m not sure what I should do next. Do we shake hands? Do I get up and curtsy? Most adults would at least acknowledge my presence with a hello, or a curt nod, but this man is pretending I’m thin air. Wow, it’s not just the kids. I have to check the school catalog again for Snobbery 101. Can I major in it?
“You couldn’t find a more suitable tutor?” his dad asks.
“I’m doing this as a favor,” I answer him. Maybe favor isn’t a good word as Mr. Fleming’s mouth twists in disgust.
His father ignores me and answers Jacob. “To whom? I’m not sure having your tutor in the house is going to please your mother, much less me.”
I shake my head, and before I can open my mouth, Jacob stands quickly, as if he might use physical force to correct the situation. I doubt it, though. Muscle for muscle, Jacob can match his father, but I sense that ingrained respect keeps him from manhandling the man.
“We’re done," Jacob replies, "and Natalie was about to leave.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“Passing calculus also sounds like a good idea, dad. I could stay after school if you don’t want us studying here.”
“We talked about this. Classes, practice, and nothing else. And I mean nothing else, Jacob.”
“Yeah, I mean, yes, sir." Jacob’s tone is formal as he speaks to his father. "We were just studying. I want to graduate this year.” His voice softens. “Natalie, I’ll walk you out.”
“Do whatever you have to do to pass.” Mr. Fleming pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “And when you’re done, toss the trash where it belongs.”
***
Panic and hurt mingle as my breathing becomes shallow, and I hurry toward the front door. I want out now. Nothing good came from returning to this awful house. I stumble over my feet as I run toward my car. But before I can open the door, Jacob catches my hand. He came after me.
“I’m sorry about that.” He bites his lip, staring back at the house. “The old man likes acting like an ass without manners.”
“It’s okay. I don’t think that many people have manners.”
“I’m sorry. My father has no qualms about hurting people, Natalie. I didn’t think he was going to be home tonight.”
Jacob’s gaze is grim, and I can’t look away from the disaster brewing. The intensity of the situation makes me feel uncomfortable, but I push myself. I challenge myself to ride through this emotion. What if it had been him?
Jacob pulls my body against him, and he doesn’t care who sees us. He’s not the type to find a place out of sight, or to pretend, or to trick. It’s what I like about him— he’s direct. He’s bold. He’s not ashamed of me.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t me that night,” he whispers, and then his lips are on mine.
I moan as my body relaxes, and his need makes my body responds. I melt against Jacob as my skin heats up. My mind floats away into something that makes my heart open up to him. I crave his heat near me. His body is hard against mine, and moaning, Jacob parts my lips with his eager mouth. He tastes like mint and Gatorade as our kiss deepens and I giggle a little with delight. The feeling of being safe in his arms returns as I lean into him. Stroke for stroke, I match his need to be touched, and his hands hold my waist tighter. My breasts flatten against his broad chest and the tingling starts as pinpricks travel along my legs.
Jacob pulls back a little for air, but I miss his heat and pull him back into me with force. For a moment, he’s surprised, and then he grins before pressing his full lips against my neck. He places
a hand under my skirt, cupping my curves, and pulls me hard against his stiff bulge.
“I want you,” he whispers.
“I want you, too.”
“But not here.” Jacob pulls back, holding my hand as he gazes into my eyes. I glance behind him, and the inside lights illuminate the open door. His father’s not watching, but it wouldn’t have changed a thing if he was there. Jacob is with me, and he gives my hand a gentle squeeze before letting me go.