We got to school before I could even come up with some sort of response. Luke left me sitting in the car, but before he shut his door, he said, “Shut your mouth before someone walks by and thinks you’re a blow up doll, and lock the doors when you get out.”
Naturally, those words snapped me out of my stupor. Leave it to Luke to be sentimental and nice one minute and his usual vile self the next. I took a deep breath and climbed out of the car and locked the doors before I headed into the building.
My talk with Luke seemed to raise my spirits a bit. I still wasn’t sure what I was going to do about the Jackson and Skylar situation yet, but it was nice to hear Luke wasn’t necessarily on Skylar’s side. It felt good to have someone other than Tegan on my team.
Although I suppose Mark was on my team if he was willing to kick Jackson’s ass for me, but I wasn’t sure if or who he was bullying now since he’d decided to befriend me, so his offer very well could have been out of need to pick a fight. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I was mostly glad he’d quit making my life a living hell. I still wasn’t sure what to make of that, but I figured I might as well let bygones be bygones. I’d much rather be Mark’s friend than his enemy, but I hated to think he was picking on someone else now.
Tegan wanted to talk Jackson strategy during lunch. Despite her initial fear of Mark, she seemed to have moved past it because she even made attempts to ask him for help.
For once, he was quiet and sat back, looking mildly amused at the banter of two fifteen-year-olds. He really didn’t have much advice to offer, and I didn’t feel like talking about it.
Finally Tegan took the hint and gave up and went back to eating her lunch. I just wanted to have one day where I wasn’t worried about Jackson or Skylar or anything like that. Even if only for a day, I didn’t want my day to end in dramatics complete with the Lindsay Lohan imitation.
I figured I’d probably go back into “you’re ruining my life” mode the next day when Jackson showed up to hang out with Skylar, but I kept trying to push those thoughts to the back of my mind. I kept telling myself I’d worry about it later.
Neither Luke nor Skylar were home when Tierney dropped me off at home after school, and they still hadn’t shown up by the time my dad arrived home, so I made the assumption they both had to work. Luke had been delivering pizza for Pizza Hut since he got his license. He never said much one way or another about liking the job, but he never complained or talked about looking for another job, so I figured he must have liked it well enough.
I realized, hopefully, I’d be working somewhere this time the next year. I had no idea what kind of job I would get. It would probably mostly depend on what places were hiring, but I didn’t think I’d mind working at a music shop like where Skylar worked. Not actually with her, of course, but somewhere similar. I didn’t think I’d mind working in a clothing store either. Tierney worked at Abercrombie & Fitch and got great discounts on clothes. I thought something like that would be fun. The more I thought about it the more I couldn’t wait to start working. Having my own money and more freedom to buy things on my own sounded great.
I heard Dad arrive home around five. I figured he probably headed straight for the living room to watch the news. I figured Mom would probably be home before too long even though my stomach was already starting to rumble with hunger.
I was working on homework while listening to the Foo Fighters’ The Colour and the Shape album when there was a knock at my door. I knew it had to be Dad. Not only was he the only one home, as far as I knew, but he and Luke were the only ones who bothered to knock.
“Come in,” I said, looking up from my schoolbooks and toward my bedroom door.
The door opened and Dad stepped inside. He took a look around the room, almost as if to survey the space for the first time, but then I realized he hadn’t been in my room in ages, so it probably was like looking at it for the first time. Finally his eyes settled on me. He walked into the room and looked over my shoulder. “What are you up to?”
“Just doing some homework,” I shrugged. “Algebra.”
“Ah, the joys of math,” he commented. His words dripped with amused sarcasm.
“Yeah, I can hardly contain myself,” I said, grinning up at him over my shoulder.
“Well, how about you take a break and we take a stab at cooking dinner tonight for your mother?” he suggested.
“Really?” The idea that Dad wanted to cook dinner for Mom was enough of a shock but wanting me to help came as an even bigger one.
“Yeah, you got any other recipes up your sleeve?”
I smiled and nodded. “I can think of a few.”
“Well, then what do you say?” he asked. “Can you help your old man?”
“Sure,” I nodded. I pushed my chair back and followed Dad downstairs.
I looked through the cabinets, surveying what we had to work with. Finally, I concluded we had all the right ingredients for baked pasta. I instructed Dad to start the water and salt it for the pasta while I gathered everything we’d need for the sauce.
Unlike when I helped Tegan and her dad cook, it felt awkward to work with Dad in the kitchen. He generally shied away from anything to do with cooking, but I thought it was nice of him to put forth some effort. I knew things were still a little strained between my parents. They had been ever since Mom started her job. It wasn’t as if they were fighting constantly, and some of the hostility had faded, but they still seemed a little distant with each other. I was sure part of it came from being busy with work.
I had to admit there were still times when I’d come home from school and miss seeing Mom first thing, but I knew she really loved her job. Anytime anyone asked about it, her eyes lit up. Even though I was still adjusting to the changes, I was happy for her. I hoped maybe Dad noticed, too, how happy her job made her and that he’d decided to try cooking dinner to help take some of the burden off of her.
“So, how are things going with school?” Dad asked as I stirred together the ingredients for the sauce.
“Pretty good,” I replied, which was true. All of my trouble revolved around my personal life these days. “I think my English Composition class is the hardest one. My teacher is pretty strict, but I’ve been doing better.”
“That’s good to hear,” he nodded. “Do you have the same teacher Luke and Skylar always complained about?”
“Yeah, Miss Barkley.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll pull through. If Luke could manage, then you shouldn’t have too much trouble,” he commented as he continued to stare at the pot of water.
I considered pointing out that a watched pot never boiled, but I controlled myself. Instead, I focused on the conversation at hand. “I’ll be glad when this semester is over,” I commented. “I’m going to miss taking Spanish, though. Mrs. Willis is my favorite teacher.”
“I wouldn’t get too anxious about things speeding up,” Dad said. “High school is known to fly by.”
“I can believe that,” I nodded.
“Before long, you’re going to be a senior and talking about going off to some expensive college on the other side of the United States,” he grinned. I glanced at him, and even though he was joking, which was odd enough, I thought there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. I guessed he was thinking about Skylar, who would be graduating in the spring.
“It won’t be that soon,” I shrugged. “Besides, I have no idea what I want to go to college for.”
“You’ll figure it out,” he commented. “You’re growing up awfully fast, Sil.”
I stopped stirring at Dad’s words. I turned and looked at him. It was odd to hear him say I was growing up. Most generally I thought Dad considered me an immature kid. I often wondered if he was even aware I was fifteen, but it seemed as if he, like Luke, was paying more attention than I thought.
“I’m really proud of you,” he said after a minute or so. He tore his eyes away from the water, which still hadn’t started boiling, and looked at me.
&n
bsp; “Proud of me for what?” I was feeling a little thrown by Dad’s unusual behavior.
“Well, I thought when your mom started working it would be the hardest on you since you’re the youngest. I guess I thought maybe you depended on her the most,” he sighed, shaking his head a little. “But I was wrong about that. I realized I depended on her for a lot more than either you or your brother or sister.”
He looked back to the pot of water, and I went back to stirring while Dad kept talking. “Even Luke and Skylar have had a hard time adjusting, but you took it all in stride and really held it together. You haven’t complained once. It just shows me how much you’ve grown up. Right under my nose, I might add.” He laughed a little but then grew serious again. “I could swear it was just yesterday you were sitting on my lap while I read to you.”
I felt myself getting a little teary-eyed, but I smiled anyway. Dad often seemed so uptight and uncaring. It was nice to hear him acknowledge I wasn’t a little girl anymore, but it was also good to hear him talk about old memories from when I was little. I wished I had more with him, but I was always more of a momma’s girl.
Dad had always worked hard. I knew it was so we could have all of the things we had now. My parents had just put the down payment on the house we lived in when Mom found out she was pregnant with me. I knew it couldn’t have been easy to manage buying a new house and raising three little ones at the same time. I guessed maybe that was what made Dad so worried about money. Either way, it was good to know he still had a soft spot for me.
Before I had time to over-analyze and talk myself out of it, I stepped over the few steps to Dad and wrapped my arms around his middle. He seemed stiff and caught off guard by my actions, but it didn’t stop me from whispering, “I love you, Daddy.”
To my surprise, he wrapped his arms around me, giving me a big squeeze and stroked my hair lightly. “I love you, too, Cecilia.” I thought I heard a little quiver in his voice and a small sniffle, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up to see if he, too, had tears in his eyes.
After all, I decided, he was probably already feeling embarrassed and awkward enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I wish I could say bonding with Dad had somehow humbled me and changed my attitude in other parts of my life, but that would have been a lie. The swell of joy I felt from hearing Dad say he was proud of me faded into the background when Jackson showed up at the house on Friday after school. My joy was replaced with my previous confusion, distrust and resentment.
I hadn’t spoken to Jackson since Tuesday, and I would have liked to keep it that way, but I was on my way down the hallway to the stairs when he rang the doorbell. Skylar shouldered past me, like I was even going to bother with answering the door. If I’d had the time, I would have spun around and fled the scene, but Jackson had already noticed me.
After saying a quick greeting to Skylar, he smiled at me. “Hey, Silly. You going to watch the movie with us?”
I looked from him to Skylar, who was inspecting her nails as if thoroughly uninterested. I sighed and returned my gaze back to Jackson.
I shook my head. “Sorry, I’m busy.” I walked over to the stairs, prepared to make a hasty retreat, but Jackson refused to let me off the hook so easily.
“Are you sure? We’re watching The Client.”
I stopped on the first step and stared straight ahead, willing myself not to turn around and punch both of them in the face. It was ridiculous, but I felt betrayed. I’d stupidly thought books and movies were my and Jackson’s thing. We were the ones that had talked about The Client. He’d even suggested we see it together sometime after I finished the book.
Truthfully, I really did want to see it but not with Skylar. She hadn’t read the book, and she wouldn’t know anything about it. She probably wouldn’t even like it. Despite her dark makeup and Goth rock style, she was a romantic comedy fanatic at heart. It just seemed so unfair, and I couldn’t understand why Jackson would make plans to see it with Skylar.
I took a deep, steadying breath and looked at him over my shoulder. I didn’t even attempt a smile; I was too busy trying to keep my anger hidden. “Sorry, but I really can’t. I hope the two of you have fun.”
I didn’t wait for his reply and hurried upstairs to my room. I sat my Dr. Pepper on my desk and collapsed on my bed. My heart was pounding. At least it was still working properly, which was odd because every time I turned around I felt as if Jackson broke it.
I lay back on my bed and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, but it was far too quiet. Luke wasn’t home to blare his music next door, and I could hear Skylar laughing downstairs. I sat up abruptly and stomped over and switched on my CD player. I didn’t know what CD was in the player, and I really didn’t care. I just hit play. The last thing I wanted was to hear Skylar downstairs laughing and having a good time with the guy I liked.
As soon as the music started to play, I knew it was Kelly Clarkson. I walked back over to my bed as my room was filled with the sounds of “Breakaway.” I lay back on my bed with my head on the pillows. I stared up at the ceiling and tried not to think about anything at all. That was a much harder task than I imagined possible. I was always thinking about something, and right now Jackson was at the forefront of my mind.
Rationally, I knew it was unfair of me to be angry with him for hanging out with Skylar since she knew him first, but logic didn’t stop me from feeling hurt or angry. I just didn’t understand why they’d decided to hang out now. I still wasn’t even sure where they stood on the friendship spectrum.
Since Jackson had only been to the house once before, acquaintances seemed like a better word to describe their relationship. I doubted Skylar even knew much about Jackson. She’d probably never bothered to ask him about his family or job. Even if she had, she’d probably never remember any of it since it had no bearing on her.
I, on the other hand, always remembered what Jackson told me because I cared—because I wanted to know more about him. I liked when he’d tell me stories about the things he’d done with his brothers—like staying with Eric in the city over the summer and working for him at the auto shop he managed or sneaking into clubs with Jordan and his friends—or when he’d do things with his sisters—like take Chloe to the park and have a picnic tea party with her even though people would look at him like he was totally lame or tease Clare every time she dyed her hair another crazy color.
I liked when Jackson suggested bands for me to check out because he usually told me what he liked about the band or mentioned his favorite song or lyric and sometimes explained how he interpreted the music. When I’d listen, I’d try to see if I could hear what he did. If not, I’d tell him what I thought of the lyrics. When I’d suggest music to him, I always found myself anxious to hear what he thought. It made me feel connected to him in some way.
He never judged me, either. He never treated me like I was just a stupid kid. I was his equal. We respected and understood each other, or at least that was what I’d thought. Now I was beginning to wonder if it was all just a charade. I wondered if any of it was real, or if maybe I’d just read too far into things.
After “Breakaway” finished playing, “Since U Been Gone” started. I closed my eyes and listened to the lyrics. The first few lines about starting out as friends only to discover it was little more than make-believe hit so close to home.
Things had started out so well between us. Through our talks on AIM, I felt like I’d learned so much about him. It was easy to open up to him that way, and I was starting to feel that way when we were face to face as well. Up until the bowling incident, I felt pretty good not only about where things were going between us but about myself as well.
Now I just felt nervous, hurt and angry every time I saw Jackson. The nerves came from not knowing what to say to him anymore. It was as if we’d completely disconnected, and every day it became harder and harder to bridge the gap.
Skylar had poisoned my mind with her beliefs as to where Jackson’s mot
ives lie, and in my mind he had done little to contradict her. When he’d come around, he’d show interest but his attention was always diverted as soon as Skylar entered the picture. It was stupid, but it left me feeling abandoned and neglected. Even if he had romantic feelings for Skylar, that was no reason for him to forget about me.
I kept telling myself I would be fine if Jackson wanted to date Skylar so long as he didn’t disregard his friendship with me in the meantime, but deep down I knew that wasn’t really true. The idea of Jackson and Skylar dating made my stomach churn. I knew if Jackson and Skylar dated it would never last, and I had no way of knowing what kind of damage it would cause my relationship with him when it was over between them.
Even though I didn’t operate under the illusion that Jackson would ever fall for me, I just wanted Skylar to go away so I could at least have my friend back. Tegan kept insisting she thought Jackson and I were a real possibility as a couple, but I just couldn’t see it. Without Skylar, it was a long shot, but with Skylar in the picture, I was almost positive it was hopeless. Even so, I knew I could settle for just friendship as long as Skylar wasn’t part of the equation.
I knew it selfish and wrong, but I felt as long as Skylar was lurking around I would always be competing for Jackson’s attention. It wasn’t like I couldn’t share, but most of my life had always felt like a contest for consideration. Even though it was usually negative attention, Skylar always got more of our parents’ notice.
In my mind, she was usually conceited and mean, but other people always seemed to migrate to Skylar as well. Whatever face she presented to them would never work with me because my perception of her was likely too tainted to overlook the bad to see the good beneath. Sure, she had moments where she was relatively nice, but those moments were so far and few between with me.
As “Since U Been Gone” continued to play, I noted all of the lines I could relate to as I stared morosely at the ceiling. A couple more songs played. When “I Hate Myself For Losing You” came on and I started analyzing how the song pertained to me, I realized lying in bed, sulking and stewing over my anger and hurt wasn’t going to change anything. I was being stupid, immature and ridiculous. This behavior wasn’t like me. Yet, knowing this, I couldn’t seem to make myself move.
Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) Page 28