by Jolie Day
“This is Elaine Carter. As you know, we have the tradition of our school’s mentorship program for new students, and as an upperclassman, I’m assigning her to you.”
Shit. I swallowed hard, trying to determine how this might ruin my life. I knew of the mentorship program—this wasn’t my first time. But, this was the first time it was going to be a pain in my ass. And the words “assigning her to you” made it sound like a much bigger responsibility than the last guy I’d mentored. More than I was ready to accept with everything else I had going on. Namely, my mission of getting into Amber Collins’s panties—or wherever she would let me.
“See to it that she knows her way around the school. Introduce her to your fellow classmates. You know the drill.”
I glanced down at the girl. She looked up at me with a timid smile—the pinnacle of mousiness with the big black frames covering her eyes and half her face. She pushed the glasses back up her nose and clutched her stack of books tightly to her chest like a shield of protection. Yeah, fuck that. I was absolutely not about to miss out on the hotness of Amber Collins for this girl.
“Uh, actually, Mrs. Dupree?” I worked hard to hide the annoyance in my voice. “You know, this is actually a really busy time of year with football practice and all. And—”
“And last I heard you intend on going to work for your father’s real estate company after college?” She cut me off with a snide smile. “Not planning to try and squeeze in a football career in there anywhere? I think you can manage the minor distraction. Besides, Elaine already has a long list of her own extracurricular activities that take place during your football practices. It won’t be any conflict to get her acclimated to the school grounds. Unless, that is, if you have something more pressing to attend to that I may not know about?”
Amber Collins, I thought to myself. Specifically, her titties. That’s the more pressing matter to attend to. Well, not even mentioning the conflict of what being seen around school with this poor nerdy chick might do to my reputation. To top it all off, the reminder of my sealed fate to my father’s company definitely wasn’t helping matters any.
“Problem, Mr. Humphries?” Her long, dark-purple nail tapped impatiently against the laminate of her desk.
“No, of course not.” I slumped. “No problem at all.”
I glanced over at the girl again, and she smiled with a happy expression on her face. I nodded with a small smile in return, trying my best to be polite.
She gave a quick and frazzled goodbye to Mrs. Dupree before shuffling out of the office behind me, ready to follow me around like a lost puppy. I rattled off a few obvious instructions as we walked. Cafeteria. Gym. Bathrooms. Each one clearly labeled so that you’d have to be an idiot not to figure it out on your own. And this girl seemed like many things, but I had a feeling her brains were not the problem.
“What’s your first class?” I grumbled as we went.
“AP English,” she answered brightly before quickly recoiling. It was like she was hiding behind a mask of uneasiness that fell off for a moment, but she was quick to snatch it up again and retreat back into her shell.
“AP, of course,” I huffed.
“Huh?”
“Nothing.” I glanced up just in time to see Amber and our other friends coming down the hall. I had the impulsive urge to ditch her as quickly as possible. “Hey, listen. Think you can manage for first period? I have…uh…some stuff to take care of before class.”
She stared at the floor and blinked. “Um, okay. I guess.”
I could tell she wanted to say “no, absolutely not.” But since she was too polite to do so, I took my chance to flee. It was worth it. I wrapped my arm around Amber as we walked down the halls. Just a small taste of what would come later, after school when we could be alone again.
By the end of first period, I’d almost forgotten all about, shit—what was her name again? How strict could the mentorship program really be this time around, anyway? I doubted Mrs. Dupree would come hunting me down to demand I be more attentive. I was wrapped up in Amber again as we slowly strolled to our next class. When we rounded the corner, I felt her body jerk next to mine.
“Hey chubby! Watch it, you fat elephant!” Amber barked. Her sweet demeanor had quickly turned vicious and unforgiving.
I looked down to see the nerdy chick. She was scrambling to the floor to pick up all of her things that had gone flying when the two bumped shoulders. Even with tears in her eyes, I could see she was angry by what seemed like rage contorting her features. And what she said only confirmed it.
She stopped what she was doing, glaring at Amber, the expression on her face defiant. “Watch where you’re going, blondie!”
No matter how pathetic she seemed, I felt a tug of guilt for how Amber talked to her. I quickly joined her on the floor to help pick up her books. It was the least I could do after abandoning her.
“You don’t have to do that,” Amber insisted. “It’s her fault she’s too clumsy. She better watch where she’s going or keep a grip on her shit. You heard me, chubby?”
The more Amber talked, the more my blood boiled. Not just for her mean streak, but also for the corner she was backing me into. Now, not only was I paired up with this geeky girl, but I had to protect her, too. Nobody deserved that shit.
“Thanks,” she breathed out as she stood with all her belongings back in place.
I could tell by her tight smile that she wasn’t oblivious to the fact that half of the incident was my fault in the first place.
“Let’s go.” Amber pulled on my arm, her voice full of spite.
“Uh, actually.” I stared her straight in the eyes, not liking the part of Amber I’d just gotten a glimpse of. Hot or not, that was uncalled for. “I’m supposed to be showing her around. I kind of bailed on her this morning, so, yeah…maybe I’ll see you around.”
My guys snickered behind Amber, right along with her girlfriends. I could only imagine what kind of trash they’d start talking the minute they walked away. I shrugged it off.
Amber’s face twisted. “Sure. Suit yourself.” Then they walked away, along with my hope to finally stop wondering what her boobs looked like. I no longer cared.
“Sorry to steal you from your friends,” the girl said quietly, still wrapping her arms around a stack of books and papers. Maybe a little tighter now than before. “Thank you for showing me around. This place is like a maze.”
“It gets easier when you get used to it.” I gave her a half-grin. “You’ll be navigating it like a pro in no time.”
The layout of the school was one thing. But the savage social cliques of our high school were a whole other beast—one that the girl did not do such a great job of taming in the coming weeks. My obligation to her was only meant to last a couple of days, but the more I saw the way the other kids treated her, the more I felt the need to stand up for her. At first, I didn’t even really like her. I mean, I didn’t dislike her, but I didn’t see us ever becoming best buddies, either. I may have been the typical popular teenage guy in many ways, but I wasn’t heartless. I couldn’t just throw her to the wolves to fend for herself.
One advantage of my hanging around with her was that it made the geeky girl more approachable. She seemed to break out of her shell as time went on. Girls weren’t threatened by her because they saw her as overweight and not in their league. And they should have been (for a different reason), because over time, I learned she was the smartest kid in school. But something else happened. The more people started to see me as her protector, the more the girls tried to use her as a gateway to get to me.
After class, she’d pass along sappy notes and love letters from girls with crushes on me. If I thought they were hot, she’d pass a note back to them for me. Usually, mine were much shorter and to the point. They’d send a page of nervous confessions; I’d send back one line requesting them to meet me behind the bleachers after school.
And the bonus was, she got to make new friends out of the fleet of girls
fawning all over me.
It was a win-win for everybody.
10
Laney: 12 years earlier
Okay, only one thing could make me spend an extra thirty minutes in the bathroom each morning, agonizing over what to wear, how to do my hair (good Lord—the freaking frizz was a bitch and a half!).
And that was him.
Oliver Humphries.
Oh, my God.
Sandy-blonde hair, tall, and built. The thought of him made me want to fan myself. He was that freaking hot. Like, if you were to stare at him too long, you’d actually burst into flames. Dramatic? Yes. But, oh, so true. In a metaphorical way, of course.
He was the guy every girl in school wanted.
Every girls’ dream…
Me, unfortunately, I was practically invisible to him. At least in all the ways that mattered to me.
Sure, it was kind of nice to know he watched out for me. I was like a little sister to him. It was better than nothing. At least he actually listened to what I had to say and stared at my eyes instead of my boobs. But damn. The problem was, I would have given just about anything to have him stare at my chest the way he did with the other girls. I know. I know. It was a strange thing to crave, but I wanted him to desire me. Regardless of how objectifying and shallow it may have been.
I stared at my reflection, taking off my glasses to reveal my bright green eyes. But I could barely see my face without my glasses—so back on they went. I tried twisting my hair into a new kind of style, but nothing looked or felt right. Whatever magical ability other girls my age had in order to look like a model straight from the pages of Teen Vogue, I so did not share. I felt clueless when it came to my looks.
Maybe it was because I knew it wouldn’t really matter what I did. I could fix my hair and makeup and wear revealing clothes. Well, what I would consider revealing anyway, which was a skirt that hung just above my knees or a shirt that hung loosely from my shoulders. I could never pull off the midriff shirts the popular girls wore. It’d only make them tease me for my belly even more (because I didn’t have washboard abs, or my ribs didn’t show). I was tolerable so long as I knew my place as the mousy girl who stayed out of everybody’s way. But the moment I tried to assert myself as something bold or attractive or pretty—they would attack me like rabid wolves. And all that extra effort wouldn’t change the way Oliver looked at me.
I tried to shake off all the negativity as I climbed onto my bike and started the ride to school. I knew none of it mattered. I wasn’t there to fit in or be popular. I was there to learn and make good grades. I had big plans after high school. Plans that didn’t require me to know how to straighten my hair or apply mascara or make my breasts look good in a shirt.
Oliver and his crew were sprawled out across the front steps of the school. Even in his hoodie with the school logo plastered on the front, he looked like the sexiest guy alive. I let out a dreamy sigh when the sun started getting to him, and he pulled it over his head, showing a brief flash of his tan six pack. He was wearing a thin white T-shirt underneath that only made his muscles look even better, especially with his loosely styled hair leaving one perfect strand hanging down ever-so slightly in his eyes.
I could see a group of girls also watching him from the other side of the yard with the same adoration. One of them cut her eyes over to me, silently begging me to come over. I knew it was just another love note delivery. The girls realized Oliver had become more like a big brother or some kind of guard dog for me around school. I was also considered “non-threatening.” A guy like him would never be into the “chubby girl.” Not even when hell froze over and all that was left were bigger girls. Passing a note through me seemed to make them think they were getting brownie points or something—an advantage they wouldn’t have if they simply slipped a note into his locker. It was as if by passing the note onto him, I was somehow vouching for the girl. They had no idea just how many other girls had me passing notes onto him. It was a game I was all too willing to play as long as it gave me extra chances to interact with Oliver.
Besides, there was something sacred about our note exchange system. Some girls, of course, took the more predictable route of sliding a note into his locker themselves. But, funny enough, anything I passed onto him seemed to get more attention, which was a thought I worked hard not to read too much into. Okay, to be honest, I read a lot into it. My naïvely optimistic heart always cheered—Did he pay more attention because they came through me?
All those other girls fell over themselves trying to get his attention. Sometimes he was interested, sometimes he wasn’t. He never stayed with one for long. They came and went. But I was here to stay.
I nodded knowingly at the girl, giving her the signal to bring it over to me. If she wanted me to pass along her note, then she could make the effort. I wasn’t going to play fetch like a dog. She was his type, no doubt—with her long silky red waves, pulled into a perky, playful ponytail at the top of her head, and I admired her perfectly trim waist, which you could see a hint of under her crop top. Ugh. I always hated our school for voting out the traditional uniforms and loosening up dress codes. It only made it easier for girls like her to show off how much more fit they were.
Red ponytail girl walked toward me, and sure enough, once she was close, she pulled a small, folded slip from her pocket and slid it into my hand. She did so with such finesse, you’d think it was a drug deal or some top-secret document. When really, everybody knew exactly what was going down.
Knowing the note was in my hand, the girl and her friends went inside, not saying a word. What a bitch. Oliver sometimes joked that I was getting more friends than he was girlfriends out of our little system. Friends my ass. I didn’t have the heart to tell him none of my “new friends” ever spoke to me again, well, unless it was to get to him.
The girl gang quickly disappeared inside. That’s what happened with every letter delivery. The whole point was to not have to endure how Oliver reacted once he received and read the note. My heart would soar every time he laughed at one of the letters, often shooting me a wink. I wanted all the other girls to be laughable to him. I know, I was being pathetic. But it really only meant something to me if I was not laughable in his eyes. Of course, that wasn’t the case. But not in the way you’d think. I was just his friend. Not enough to even consider passing a verdict on.
But other times, he didn’t laugh at the note. Instead, his eyes lit up with arousal as he showed it to his friends. Like today. We stood in the schoolyard, and I’d just handed him a note from ponytail girl. I shifted my gaze away, trying to hide the hurt. Oliver pulled a pen and paper from his bag and quickly scribbled a response before folding it and handing it over to me. I knew what to do.
“Thanks, Laney.” He winked and grinned, melting me inside.
I had never given him permission to call me Laney. It made my heart jump with joy. Nobody else I knew ever called me that. But once he made the mistake of calling me “doll” in front of his friends, and they never let him hear the end of it. It had been Laney ever since then, and I knew it was the only pet name we could exchange. I would take it.
When I got through the front double doors, the note somehow slipped through my hands. I chased it as it floated through the air, landing in a corner. The moment I reached down to pick it up, I was hit with an urge. The voice whispered, Read it. I tried to shake it off, telling myself, No, Elaine. That would be wrong on so many levels. It had never once occurred to me before, so why now? Of course you can’t read it. Why would you want to read it? It’s not like he wrote back: “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m actually in love with the nerdy, chubby girl who’s playing messenger for us.”
Shoving the paper back into my pocket, my feet pivoted on the floor. Half of me was trying to move forward, while the other half seemed to be glued to the speckled tiling that matched the maroon-and-gold theme of our school. Then again, aren’t you dying to know what he says to these girls? You could pretend, just for a moment, that he wro
te that note for you.
I rushed to the girls’ bathroom and locked myself behind the last stall. Taking a deep breath, my hands shook as I slowly unfolded the lined paper.
If all I was ever going to have of Oliver were fantasies, I might as well fuel them with as many realistic details as possible. Right? Nothing wrong with that. Against my good side’s better judgment, I read what Oliver had written back to the pretty, thin ponytail girl.
Hey, Rebecca…How about we take a ride after school? ;) -Oliver
I knew what he meant.
Fooling around on school grounds wasn’t good enough anymore, so Oliver had started taking girls out to a parking view instead. After dark, they had much more privacy.
I longed to be shrouded in the darkness with him like that. I could imagine music playing on his radio and the smell of his cologne as he leaned in close. The envy was getting to be too much to take.
I had never betrayed my role as his letter carrier. Like I said, it was sacred to me. But something was coming over me. I didn’t want to take it anymore. I couldn’t take it anymore.
My hands moved beyond my control, crumpling up the paper. I tossed it into the toilet and flushed it.
I couldn’t believe what I’d done. I started walking the halls in a daze, and I imagined Oliver waiting out in the parking lot after school for ponytail girl, feeling wounded when she never showed. He wasn’t used to being refused. As messed up as it was, I felt bad for him. His feelings would be hurt, and it’d be all my fault.
What have I done? Could I fix it? I could have gone and told the redheaded girl about meeting him. Maybe tell her she should write another one? I could say something spilled on the letter and that’s why I had to throw it out. Tell her Oliver was interested and where to meet him. Even walk her to the parking lot? Oh, hell, what was I thinking? Put a big red bow on her head to match her shiny-ass red hair and hand her over like a gift? Um, nope.