Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1)

by Brittney Musick

  “As it turns out, we have an opening. Carley just told me that she has to have her tonsils taken out at the end of the week. She hasn’t even started on her column, and the paper will run in a couple of weeks. Mr. Hensley and I discussed it, and we wondered if you’d be interested in doing your review column.”

  “Sure!” I exclaimed with more enthusiasm than was probably necessary. When the idea had been shelved, Mr. Hensley and Annabelle had both suggested it might be a good column for the next edition of the paper. Even then, though, I’d figured that someone else would probably get to write it, so I was thrilled to be offered the chance.

  “Terrific,” Annabelle grinned broadly as her shoulders relaxed, as if she’d been worried I might turn the offer down. “Maybe you could make a list of books or movies you might consider reviewing, and then we could discuss your ideas tomorrow during class.”

  I agreed readily, and Annabelle stepped out of the classroom with a smile and wave.

  Then I just stood there for a moment with a grin plastered on my face. I’d been so disappointed when I’d first found out that not everyone would be able to write an article for the paper each month and some of us would have to edit and help get things ready to sell. I’d expected to be doomed to selling or putting the paper together, so actually getting to write something was pretty exciting. I couldn’t wait to call Tegan and tell her, and with that thought, I hurried out to the parking lot to catch a ride with Skylar.

  I noticed along the way that the hallways were nearly empty, and when I reached the parking lot, there were only a few cars still there. I glanced at my watch to check the time. It was only ten after three.

  “Talk about clearing out fast,” I muttered. I found I couldn’t blame anyone, though. I never had much of a desire to stick around after school was over either. I scanned the parking lot just in case, but it was obvious that Skylar had already left. I didn’t see Tierney’s car either. “You are officially screwed,” I said to myself.

  For the first time I realized that maybe I actually did need a cell phone. Skylar, Luke and our parents all had one. My parents had offered to get me one, but, no, stupid me had said, “No thanks. I probably wouldn’t use it very much.”

  What was I thinking? So what if I wouldn’t use it very often? It was times like these that counted.

  I kicked a nearby bench with a huff and growled. I knew Mom wouldn’t be too happy if I called her and asked her to come and get me. For one, it would be an inconvenience to her, and, for another, Mom would probably be mad at Skylar for leaving me. Then, in turn, Skylar would be mad at me for making Mom mad at her. Then Dad would be mad because Mom was mad, and it would just be this big thing where everyone was pissed. Mom and Dad would blame Skylar, and Skylar would blame me because she’d warned me about leaving me behind. Luke would probably be the only one who wasn’t pissed, but he’d find the whole thing amusing, which, in turn, would probably get him trouble. Then he’d be mad at me too.

  Just thinking about all of it made my head ache. Sometimes life just really sucked.

  I kicked the bench again and wanted to spout off a whole slew of curse words, but before I even had the chance to start, my little tantrum was interrupted.

  “What did that bench ever do to you?”

  I spun around in surprise. I almost toppled over at the sight of Jackson standing just behind me, but he reached out and grabbed my shoulder to steady me.

  “You okay?” he asked. I’d only met him once, but it was obvious that he was fighting off the urge to smile.

  Way to make an impression, I thought bitterly. I really was a spaz when it came to guys.

  “I’m fine,” I replied, regaining my balance and hoisting my bag back on my shoulder.

  “So, who started it?” he questioned, arching a dark eyebrow as he glanced at the bench.

  I felt my cheeks grow warm as a smile crept up on my face. “I started it,” I confessed.

  “Wow, I didn’t take you for a troublemaker,” he smirked, “but considering you’re Skylar and Luke Granger’s little sister, I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised.”

  I laughed a little, but I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I kept my mouth shut. Knowing my luck, I was liable to say something incredibly embarrassing. Then I’d just have to dig a hole in the ground and crawl inside and die. Because, hello, did I mention Jackson had gorgeous lips? My mind briefly short circuited and I began to wonder how his lips would feel against mine. Luckily, I kept my lips sealed together and didn’t voice those thoughts out loud. I had to mentally shake my head to make those thoughts go away. I didn’t think Jackson noticed my short lapse with reality, but if he did, he was pretending not to notice. How considerate of him.

  “So, what are you doing out here?” he asked after a minute of silence that was quickly headed in the direction of awkward.

  “Weighing my options,” I replied.

  “Options? For what?”

  “How I’m going to get home,” I sighed, considering my less than desirable plight once again.

  “And what are your options?”

  I couldn’t tell if he was actually interested or he just found me amusing, but I answered him anyway. “Well, I can call my mom and ask her to come pick me up, or I can start walking.”

  “That might be a long walk,” Jackson frowned.

  “Yeah, but it might be worth it,” I sighed. “I don’t think my mom will be too happy if she has to come and get me.”

  “I see,” Jackson nodded, cocking his head to the side and studying me for a moment. Then he said, “You know, there is one other option.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” I wondered what other option I hadn’t taken into consideration. I didn’t think I’d missed anything else. Calling Skylar to come back and get me would be just as bad, if not worse, than calling Mom. Luke was probably busy, and even if he wasn’t, he wasn’t likely to pick up and come and get me. Tierney and Tegan had plans, so, unless Jackson knew something I didn’t, that just left me with calling Mom or walking.

  “You could hitch a ride with me,” he said.

  Now that was a surprise. I never would have thought to ask, and I didn’t know him well enough to guess that he’d offer. “Really? It’s not out of your way?”

  “Nah,” he shrugged, “it’s cool.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t help but ask again uncertainly. I didn’t want to be an inconvenience.

  “Yes, really,” he nodded as he started toward the parking lot. When I didn’t move, he stopped and turned. “Well, I’m not going to pull up here to pick you up if that’s what you’re thinking. So, are you coming or not?”

  I nodded wordlessly and hurried after him.

  We walked across the parking lot, bypassing the few remaining cars. At first I was confused where we were headed until we reached the very last row of parking. In the far corner, parked at an angle, was a cobalt blue Chevy Camaro with white racing stripes on the hood and roof, and Jackson headed straight for it.

  I trailed behind, most likely with my mouth hanging open, as Jackson walked around to the driver’s side and unlocked the door.

  He paused before opening the door and looked over the roof to me. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “This is your car?” I asked, wide-eyed and incredulous.

  “Yep,” he said simply as he slid into the driver’s seat and reached across to the passenger’s side and unlocked the door. I pulled it open and slid inside.

  “Me and my brothers spent two years restoring it,” Jackson explained once I was inside and pulling on my seatbelt.

  I was still too baffled by the awesomeness of his car to reply as he put the key in the ignition, and the engine boomed to life. He then pulled on his seatbelt and switched on the radio. He revved the engine before he backed out of the parking space.

  “So, how did you miss your ride, anyway?” he asked as he stopped at the stop sign leading out of the parking lot.

  “Oh.” I had to think for a minute. It was s
urreal to be sitting in a classic car with a gorgeous guy. Once I collected my thoughts, I said, “I was talking to Annabelle Jansen about the school newspaper.”

  “Taking Journalism then, I assume?”

  I nodded, and because I couldn’t help it and simply had to tell someone, I said, “She asked me if I’d like to write a review for the paper.”

  I didn’t think that Tegan would mind too much if she weren’t the first person I told. Besides, she would most certainly be the first to hear all the details of this bizarrely monumental moment where I not only managed to talk to a guy, but I managed to talk to a really hot, nice guy.

  “That’s cool,” he nodded. “You like to write?”

  “Sometimes,” I admitted. “I’ve never written anything for other people to read before. Well, besides, a teacher, but that doesn’t really count, does it? I mean, I doubt most teachers even really care anyway. After all, they all usually assign the same things anyway. Books reports, autobiographies, and stuff like that. I don’t know why they bother, really. I feel like I write the same, boring things every time if it’s about myself.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Jackson commented, “I bet yours would be rather entertaining.”

  I glanced over at Jackson and saw a smile playing on his full lips. He probably wanted to laugh at me. He probably thought I was a blundering idiot. After all, I knew I was rambling, so I grew quiet. I always seemed to get a case of verbal diarrhea when I was nervous, and cute guys made me very nervous.

  When I didn’t reply to his comment, Jackson asked, “So, what are you writing your review on?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “I’m supposed to make a list of movies or books tonight and talk to Annabelle tomorrow.”

  “Got any ideas yet?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “I haven’t seen many movies lately. At least not any new ones, but I read a lot. Maybe Perks of Being a Wallflower, but I’m not sure if that’s really appropriate to suggest at school. I know it’s been banned in some places.”

  “That’s true. It’s a good book, but the themes aren’t really,” he seemed to search for the right words for a moment, “school administration friendly.”

  “That’s for sure,” I nodded.

  “Have you read anything by John Green?” Jackson asked.

  “No, I haven’t,” I answered, “but the name sounds familiar.”

  “He has a couple of books out. Looking For Alaska and An Abundance of Katherines just came out a week or so ago,” Jackson explained.

  The titles sounded vaguely familiar, and then I remembered that Rose the librarian had mentioned them to me when I finally made it to the library over the weekend. “Someone else mentioned them to me too, actually,” I said, “but they were checked out of the library, and there was a long waiting list.”

  “Well, I have my own copies of both. You can borrow them if you want,” Jackson offered.

  I had officially decided I was in love—or at the very least very seriously infatuated—with this beautiful, generous, book-reading boy. I managed to rein in my inner glee, and smiled, probably a little manically, “Really? That would be great.”

  “No problem,” Jackson shrugged, as if he hadn’t just stolen my heart. “What about The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe? Have you read it?”

  “Yes! I completely forgot about that one,” I said. I couldn’t curb my surprise as I asked, “You’ve read it?”

  “Yep, several times. Every time I read it, I notice more and more Biblical parallels.”

  “I don’t know much about the Bible,” I admitted, “but I’ve looked up some stuff about the books and symbolism online.”

  “Sometimes I like to visit sites like SparkNotes to read the analysis,” Jackson commented. “I know it’s kind of dorky, but I like to see if I’m understanding things right or see if I missed something while reading.”

  “It’s not dorky!” I exclaimed; then I reconsidered. “Well, maybe it is, but I do the same thing.”

  “Really?” Jackson looked both disbelieving and hopeful at my admission.

  “Yeah, I thought I was the only one,” I blushed.

  “Apparently not the only one, but we might be the only two,” he laughed lightly. It was melodic; it reminded me of music. I tried to think of a way, that didn’t involve making an ass out of myself, to make him laugh again.

  While I thought, he leaned over and pulled open the glove box. He kept his eyes mostly on the road, but he glanced briefly at the glove box and grabbed a pack of Marlboro Reds before he shoved the door back into place. He straightened up in his seat and glanced at me as he pulled a lighter out of the pack of cigarettes. “Mind if I smoke?”

  “It’s your car,” I shrugged. I couldn’t deny being somewhat disappointed to find he was a smoker, but I supposed that a boy so seemingly perfect had to have some sort of flaw.

  “I can wait if it bothers you,” he offered.

  “It’s okay,” I smiled. He eyed me for a moment, as if to check for some form of deception before he placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it. “I do find it odd that one minute you’re talking about Christianity and the next you’re smoking,” I commented as he exhaled a cloud of smoke and cracked his window.

  “I know. It’s a nasty habit, but I picked it up while I was staying with my brother over the summer,” he sighed. “I thought I’d be able to kick it when I got back home, but I was wrong.”

  “You could try the patch or gum,” I suggested.

  “I guess I could,” he shrugged, “but I’m not too worried about it.”

  “Maybe you should,” I commented, which earned me an arched eyebrow. “I mean, maybe it’s just me and I’ve got it wrong, but I don’t think most girls are into kissing guys with mouths that taste like an ashtray.” I shrugged, as if to lessen the unintentional insult.

  “Huh. Are you planning to kiss me?” Jackson smirked as he tapped the ashes at the end of his cigarette off into the ashtray.

  “No, I was just saying . . .” I trailed off as my face bloomed into what I was sure was a tomato red blush. Jackson simply smiled innocently, and I knew I’d been baited.

  After a moment he took mercy upon my poor, mortified soul and admitted, “You’re probably right. Most girls probably wouldn’t appreciate kissing an ashtray.”

  “Well, good luck to you whenever you decide to quit,” I said.

  “Thank you,” he nodded as he pulled the car to a stop. I looked out the window and was shocked to discover that we were in front of my house already. It felt like we just got into the car. I felt a little sad knowing that I had to say goodbye, but I thanked Jackson for the ride and he replied, “No problem. Just take it easy on those benches from now on.”

  “I’ll try,” I assured him, and I couldn’t help but smile as I walked up to the house. When I got to the door, I stopped and turned to wave goodbye to Jackson. He waved back before he pulled, car rumbling, away from the curb. I couldn’t help it. I felt giddy.

  I stepped into the house and heard the television in the living room blaring profanities and foul music and knew that Luke was playing some sort of a video game. I toed off my shoes and dropped my bag at the door before walking into the kitchen. Mom was doing dishes, and she looked up as I entered the room.

  “Hi, sweetie,” she said. “Did Tierney drive you home?”

  “No, not today.”

  Her eyes rose. “Then who drove you home?”

  “Jackson.”

  “Jackson who?” Mom questioned, turning toward me while drying her hands on a dishtowel.

  I realized I didn’t actually know Jackson’s last name, so I shrugged. “I don’t know his last name. He’s someone Skylar knows.”

  I thought this would reassure her, but Mom only looked more concerned. “How old is this boy?”

  “I don’t know. I think he’s in Luke’s class. Sixteen? Seventeen?”

  “Silly, I don’t know if you should be taking rides from boys you hardly know,” she said.
“You never know what they’re intentions might be.”

  I made a face and forced myself not to roll my eyes. “C’mon, Mom,” I sighed, “Jackson’s nice.”

  “Most boys who have ulterior motives are,” she said. “You can’t be too trusting these days. You could be raped or murdered just because you took a ride from someone you don’t really know.”

  I sighed. I couldn’t count know how many times I’d heard this very lecture. For some reason Mom thought I didn’t know these things. I was fully aware. It wasn’t as if I got rides from strangers on a regular basis either. I understood her concern and took it seriously enough, but she needed to give me a little credit.

  “Well, Mom, I thought if Skylar could bring Jackson into our house and hang out with him, then it would be okay to accept a ride from him,” I explained. “We talked about the Bible on the way home, so I don’t think he’s plotting to kill me. Also, I have the body of a twelve-year-old boy, so unless Jackson has a thing for little boys, I don’t think I need to worry about being raped,” I said. “And if Jackson does have a thing for little boys, then I think you need to start talking to Skylar about her choice in friends,” I added.

  With that I turned on the heel of my foot and headed upstairs. It seemed my news about writing for the school newspaper would have to wait until later.

  Sunday, October 22nd, 2006

  I got the best early birthday surprise from the Tylers. I spent the night with them Friday. Then Saturday morning we got up early and went into the city to visit The Art Institute of Chicago. It was so awesome (and I know Skylar will be so jealous when I rub it in her face tell her about it). We stayed there all day. There was so much to see. Sadly, I didn’t get to look at everything. I probably spent more time than I should have looking at stuff. I guess Mom’s right about me over-analyzing things. It was really nice and felt so calming. Aside from a few crying babies, it was so quiet in the museum.

  I really didn’t talk too much either. That’s what I like so much about Tegan and her family. I feel so comfortable sitting around with them and not saying a word. Yet, at the same time, I feel comfortable enough to tell them anything. They’re just really great people. I wish I knew more people like them.