by K. R. Grace
Of course I had to be good in school. Stupid reputation.
“Well, I don’t feel that way,” I said lamely.
“You’ll do fine. You always do. See you around.”
Again, he walked off, leaving me at a loss for words. I only had one more shot at landing the target, and I needed Cam’s involvement to make it happen. Walking down the hallway as fast as I could without getting in trouble for running, I made my way to Cam’s locker where he was leaning up against the metal door, talking down to the Honda hood chick.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt. Can I have your car key?” I asked quickly. Cam grabbed his keys from his back pocket and tossed them to me without giving me a second glance.
“Thanks. Carry on.” I waved as I rushed out the door into the back parking lot. Cam always parked in space 149, which was right next to Aidan’s spot. This had to work.
I hopped into the driver’s seat and rolled the window down and waited. When Aidan finally came out a few minutes later, I pretended to crank the key and yell at the ignition.
“Stupid piece of crap, start!” I hollered louder than probably necessary.
“Having car trouble?” Aidan asked as he turned from his silver Prius to look at me.
“Yeah. I think the battery’s dead.”
“Oh, I’ve got jumper cables. Pop the hood.”
Finally!
With a new spring in my step, I pulled the lever to release the hood and hopped out. He’d repositioned his car so that our hoods were nose to nose and popped his own hood. I sat and waited for him to hook our batteries together. And waited. And waited.
Frowning, I climbed out the car to see what was going on. He stood between the vehicles with the unattached cables in his hands.
“Here you go.”
Did he seriously expect me to know how to use jumper cables? I looked down at the red and black cord he was handing me and back up at him, dumbfounded.
“Thanks?” I muttered as I took them from him and stared at the four little clamper thingies.
What the heck did I do with these? Did two black go on one battery and two red on the other? I never had to deal with this before because my parents had given me a battery charger that plugged into my cigarette lighter.
Rather than walking me through it, Aidan hopped back into his car and waited expectantly for me to do the task at hand and send him on his way. Some hero he was.
I pretended to hook up the cables, since he couldn’t see what I was doing, and leaned into Cam’s car to start the engine. It roared to life, and I leaned around Aidan’s car hood to give him a thumbs up, which he reciprocated.
Ready for the whole embarrassing episode to be over, I quickly rolled up the cables, closed both our hoods, and returned said cables to him through his window.
“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver,” I said dryly.
“Happy to help. You should really keep jumper cables in your car. See you around!” He waved and off he went.
Thank the stars.
An arm draped across my shoulders and the familiar scent of cedar and rain met my nose. “I take it your knight turned out to have rusted armor?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Cam.” I shrugged him off and leaned into the vehicle to cut the engine and roll up the window.
“I have yearbook until four and then we have to pick up Clay at the soccer fields. Can you manage until then?”
He tilted his chin over to Honda hood girl standing a short distance away and winked at me.
“Why do I bother to ask?” I rolled my eyes, grabbed my bag, and hurried back into the building.
So, step one didn’t work. That was okay. I was a Greere, and “fail” was absent from the Greeres’ dictionaries. True story. There were still nine steps to go. I just needed to find a new target because Aidan definitely did not have boyfriend potential.
Thankfully, as soon as I stepped into the yearbook room, I had fifteen problems presented to me, all needing immediate attention, which had the effect of eliminating my guy problems from my mind. By the time we’d wrapped things up, I had five minutes to get to Cam’s car and get over to the middle school soccer field which was technically seven minutes away.
“Break it apart. We need to move!” I hollered as I charged across the empty parking lot, interrupting Cam’s necking session. He gave Honda hood girl a pat on the butt and sent her off giggling and waving over her shoulder like some sort of windup toy.
We climbed into the car and Cam revved up the engine. “Let her down gently tomorrow.”
I let out a deep sigh. “What’s her name?” I asked dryly.
He cocked his head as if scanning the inner contents of his brain. “I have no idea.”
“You are such a jerk, Cam.”
“All a part of the image.”
Why those girls put themselves through the roller coaster that was Cam was beyond me. “An image you need to rethink, bud, before you get an STD.”
“Who said anything about going under the clothes?”
My cheeks flushed red, and I turned to look out the window. “I would assume that’s what you did based on what I’ve seen you do to girls in broad daylight.”
“Shows how little you know about me, Mace.”
I couldn’t tell if he was being honest or not, but the opportunity to grill him further ended when we pulled up to the soccer field to a red-faced Clay covered in grass stains.
The smell of sliced, raw onions and turf smacked us in the face as he hopped into the car, forcing me to put my hand over my nose.
“Deodorant, Clay. Use it.”
“Why? Does it bother you?” He lunged forward and shoved his nasty armpit in my face.
“Stand down, you stinky animal!” I cried as I plastered myself against the door, which only made him follow me until he was practically sitting in the front passenger seat with me.
“Whoa ho, there bud!” Cam called out as he grabbed Clay by the waistband and tugged him back into his seat. “Easy there, tiger. Don’t forget she’s the one responsible for your food tonight. Wouldn’t want to give her reason to slip some Brussels sprouts into your mashed potatoes now would you?”
He quickly strapped on his seatbelt and stared out the window, looking like the model sibling.
“Thank you,” I mouthed to Cam.
He winked and put the car in gear, setting us in motion.
Four
2. A Lady Worth Having is Hard to Catch
It took me half the day to find Honda hood girl since I had no idea what her name was, nor did I have any helpful identifiers other than that she had blonde hair and liked to make out with hot guys on car hoods.
The universe must’ve liked me that day, because as I was leaving lunch, I spotted her walking down the hall with two other girls. One I recognized as Gina Mazoratti. She and her family moved here from New York late last year. She was almost six feet tall, had olive skin, strong bone structure, and big, blue eyes that looked great on camera. The other was a girl named Nadine Levitt. Her dad was an oil prince from Iran and her mom was sixteen seats from the throne of some small country I couldn’t pronounce. Even though she’d lived in the U.S. most of her life, she had an accent that screamed, “I’m exotic. Bow down to me.” And most guys did.
Cam dived into a random classroom, leaving me alone to face her.
Coward.
“Hey, can we talk for a sec?” I asked her.
“Who’s she?” Nadine’s nose crinkled like she’d smelled something putrid.
“Oh, she’s Cam’s friend. She’s cool.” Honda hood girl flipped her hair over her shoulder and waved them off.
They did as she ordered, but not without tossing me the stink eye as they walked on by us. If they’d set out to intimidate me, they failed. I’d been dished far worse thanks to Cam.
Upon redirecting my attention to Honda hood girl, I realized I knew her. She was Lydia Baxter, heiress to Baxter Tires. We’d had the shame kindergarten teacher. We were somewhat friends until I�
�d declared I didn’t like the color pink. To her, anyone who hated the color pink was no one she wanted to waste her time on. Knowing who she was didn’t change anything, but at least I wouldn’t accidentally call her by the wrong name.
I led her into the vacant girls’ bathroom and put on a somber face that would make a mortuary owner proud.
“Lydia, if you have any other fish on the line, now is the time to reel them in. Otherwise, recast your line and hope for the best.”
She blinked and then tilted her head to the side as she struggled to process my words.
“You’ve been set free. It’s time for you to pursue other people.” I explained further, making sure to use hand gestures to help her understand.
“Are you dumping me?” Her voice squeaked.
“Technically Cam is, but yeah, you’re on the right track.”
“I let him get to second base with me, and he doesn’t have the gonads to dump me to my face? That bastard!” Her dainty hands balled into fists, and her cheeks flamed red.
I couldn’t help but think she looked like a pissed off kitten rather than an angry lioness. I kept that thought to myself since I was almost certain she wouldn’t find it as funny as I did.
“Yeah, he’s a bastard. You’re better off without him.” I gave her shoulder a pat. “Well, it’s been nice talking with you. Good luck.”
I turned to leave but was halted by a tiny vice on my arm.
“How do I know you’re not trying to sabotage what Cam and I have? You could have been harboring a twisted crush on him for all these years and are just trying to make sure no one can have him if you can’t.”
The girl was obviously missing a few screws. “You have two seconds to get your hand off me,” I warned softly.
“Or what? You’re going to go psycho on me? You’re pathetic, you know that? Wait until CamCam hears what you tried to do.”
“I happened to be trained in Krav Maga, which means I don’t need to go psycho on you in order for you to get the message. And if you want to run to CamCam and tell on me, be my guest. I’m a sucker for a good show.”
“Bitch!” she spat and stormed out of the room.
I looked down at my arm and saw half-moon indentions where her talons had dug in on me. She really needed to clip those things. Thank goodness she took my bluff, though. I might know of Krav Maga, but I’d never actually tried it.
Taking advantage of my surroundings, I used the restroom, washed my hands, and redid my ponytail before shouldering my backpack and heading off to college English.
By the time the bell rang, announcing the end of third period, the whole school was talking about Lydia Baxter and her epic meltdown in front of Cam’s college prep English class.
“Her voice got so high she went ultrasonic. I heard she went into a panic attack and Ms. Jackson made her breathe into a paper bag,” a guy walking in front of me was saying.
“What was Cam doing?” the other one asked.
“He stuck his earbuds in and pretended not to hear her.” Guy number one chuckled.
“That’s the problem with the easy ones.” Guy number two shook his head, and they veered left down another hall while I continued walking straight.
Part of me wanted to feel sorry for Lydia. A very tiny part that still had a soul. The majority of me inwardly laughed at her behavior. They were all alike, thinking they’d been the ones to snag and tame Cam Davis.
Guy number two’s statement about the easy ones reminded me of my quest for a prom date. Playing hard to get was the key to catching a guy’s attention, but I wasn’t sure how it worked when the guy had yet to try to do any hooking.
“Your persuasion skills are lacking, Mace.” Cam shook his head in dismay as he approached me in the main hallway.
“Don’t even start with me.” I glowered at him. “That chick was psychotic. What were you thinking?”
“She had a nice rack.” He shrugged as he draped his arm across my shoulders. I brushed him off, not ready to forgive him just yet.
“I had to threaten to go Krav Maga on her butt.”
“Do you even know Krav Maga?” He snorted.
“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” I raised an eyebrow at him before coming to a halt in front of my locker.
He clutched his hands over his heart and groaned. “You wound me, Mace. I think it’s fatal.”
I shoved him away from the door to my locker before swinging said door open and exchanging my English book for Calculus. “When are you going to learn how to dump a girl?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the locker next to mine. “Why should I when you do such an excellent job?”
“Oh, so now I did an excellent job, huh? What about my persuasion skills you were complaining about just a few minutes ago?”
“Eh, this one was a crazy one. Your abilities are ninety-nine percent accurate. That’s more than good enough for me.”
“Grow a set, Cam. I’m tired of cleaning up your messes.”
“I have a set, which you discovered when we were three.” He winked.
“Hey, now! I didn’t ask to see your…” I waved my hand in the general region of his crotch. “You ran up to me in my backyard, pulled down your pants and yelled, ‘Look what I got!’ I’ve never fully recovered from that.”
“I only did that because you showed me what you had the week before at my birthday party.”
“You stuck a lizard down my pants! It was either disrobe immediately or have it run around in places lizards should never be. If I do recall, you were put in timeout for that and had to miss out on your own birthday cake.” I huffed as I repositioned my bag.
He sighed wistfully. “It was so worth it.”
I shoved him hard, causing him to tumble to the side as he lost his balance.
“Hey, take it easy there, Tyson. I’m just messing with ya.”
Someone linked their arm with mine, and the smell of cherry Jolly Ranchers met my nose as I turned to look at Morgan. “Hi!”
“Do I need to go Powerpuff on him?”
I assessed Cam as I tapped my finger on my lips. “Nah, all that girl power would just turn him on, but maybe a little Naruto would do him some good.”
“Oooh, excellent choice.” Her eyebrows danced devilishly.
“Please, have mercy on me,” Cam pled dramatically.
“Stop it. You’re scaring Wen Li.” I pointed at our friend who’d just appeared like clockwork.
“Sorry, Wen. I’ll behave.” He winked at her. “Until the next bell, ladies.” And then he was off.
“Remind me why we put up with him,” Morgan said as we watched him disappear down the hallway.
“Familiarity.”
She snorted loudly before we made our way down the hall arm-in-arm.
In AP calculus, I had a hard time avoiding eye contact with Aidan because he was clueless as to what had happened the day before. He tried to strike up a conversation and even thanked me for putting his jumper cables to good use. Talk about an odd duck.
Most of the time in this particular class, Ms. Ryan stood in the front of the room at her smart board and worked out problems from the homework assignment we’d just turned in and then proceeded to give a mini lecture on the next homework assignment. She was predictable, and I loved her for it. However, she chose this day to try to make math fun.
“Today, we’re going to do something different. I’m going to put you into pairs, and you’re going to do a problem together and teach it to the class.”
The class groaned collectively. Math was a solo event. Groups only complicated things. Still, despite our protests, she passed around a ceramic vase and we each drew out a number. Then, she made us move around the classroom until we found the person with the same number.
I felt like this was one of those ice breaker games teachers did at the beginning of the year to force students to get to know each other. As if most of us hadn’t known each other since we were in diapers.
“Fi
ve! Who has five? Anyone have five?” I asked as I walked around holding up my paper like a peanut vender at a baseball game.
“Hey, lucky number five,” Benton Grainger said as he sidled up to me.
“It’s a match!” I raised my arms in victory, glad to have the search over with.
He had his book and binder under his arm, a silent signal we were going to work near my desk. We put two desks together head-to-head and sat down to wait for the next set of instructions. Once everyone had been paired off, Ms. Ryan said, “Now, the number you drew also corresponds with the problem number you will be responsible for. You have ten minutes to work it out. Good luck!”
“Just a warning, I don’t do public speaking,” Benton said as he lowered his head to mine.
“Well, you’re with the class know-it-all, so I think you’re good.” I winked.
I liked Benton. He and I had a lot of classes together over the years since we both were honors students. His dad was a cardiologist and his mom a school teacher. Our dads went to medical school together and both decided to plant roots in this small beach town. Benton had smooth skin that reminded me of coffee with just the right amount of creamer, a bright smile that revealed a slight gap between his front two teeth, and black hair that he never allowed to get any longer or shorter than five-o’clock-shadow length. His strongest feature was his eyes. They were ice blue and always had that look that said he was seconds away from laughing.
We began working through our problem when it hit me. Benton would be the perfect next target. Our families already knew each other, we had the same classes, and he knew me as Macey rather than Cam’s friend.
The key was to figure out how to play hard to get, and there was no time like the present to start trying.
“So, we’re obviously dealing with the Power Rule, and we’re going to need to plug in the formula f of x equals x to the r power into the definition of the derivative and then the Binomial Theorem to expand out the first term,” he rattled off, completely unaware of what was going on in my brain.
“Yeah, sure.” I shrugged even though what he’d said was correct.
He frowned as he scanned over his work. “Oh, so you think we should use the alternate limit form of the definition of the derivative? But that doesn’t make since. There is no ‘a’ in this equation.”