Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1)

by Brittney Musick

  “Tegan, shut up.” I felt my face growing hot. While she was right—I did think she was just being nice most of the time—I wasn’t exactly thrilled to have this discussion in front of Jackson.

  “Maybe you should let other people be the judge about whether or not it’s any good,” Jackson suggested. “You could read it here or something.”

  “Only to be told I suck? No thanks,” I said, sipping my hot cocoa.

  “See, this is what I have to put up with,” Tegan commented. “I’ve been trying to get her to read her stuff here for the last few years or enter some contests, but she refuses.”

  “Stubborn girl,” Jackson grinned.

  I looked away from the beauty that was his face, worried that I might let him talk me into something I’d regret later with that smile. “Can we talk about something that doesn’t involve me and public humiliation, please?”

  “But that topic is full of so many options,” Tegan teased.

  I glared at the Judas, and she held up her hands. “Okay, okay, new topic.”

  I went to take another drink of my cocoa, but some of the liquid sloshed over onto my hand. It was hot, but not enough to really burn. I was mostly thankful I hadn’t spilled it on my new sweater. I’d have felt awful if I ruined my gift from Tegan.

  I sat my cocoa down and looked around for a napkin. The guy playing guitar and singing on the small raised staging area had stolen Tegan and Jackson’s attention. Glad they’d missed my bout of the clumsies and not wanting to disturb them, I reached across the table to the other side of Jackson for the stack of napkins.

  Unfortunately, I had to lean across Jackson. “Sorry,” I muttered, hoping my chest wasn’t exposed for the world to see.

  “It’s okay.” Jackson smiled, picking up one of the napkins just out of my reach and handing it to me. “You smell good,” he said inhaling softly.

  Immediately my face bloomed with heat as I sat back in my seat and wiped my hand. “Thanks, my mom gave it to me.” I had no idea why I felt the need to explain. “You should smell Tegan’s perfume, though. It smells good too. Kind of like cotton candy.”

  Jackson’s features contorted into an odd look I couldn’t decipher, but he smiled slightly. “I really don’t think Tegan wants me sniffing her.”

  I really didn’t want him sniffing her either, but I had enough foresight not to say that aloud. My face felt hot, which seemed to be the trend for the evening. I glanced at Tegan. She looked dismayed as she shook her head slightly. She’d no doubt heard me and disapproved. Sometimes my stupid mouth shocked even me. Mine was a level of spastic ridiculousness that would be hard to rival.

  Tegan saved the awkward moment by bringing up Daughtry’s self-titled album, which Tierney had bought on iTunes the other night. We discussed the merits of American Idol, but the general consensus was that we were all over the show.

  Before long, it was getting late and we decided it was time to get going. We instructed Jackson, after asking if he needed to take her home, that he could just drop Tegan at my place because Tierney was picking her up on her way home from work.

  When we arrived at my house, I let Tegan out of the backseat, but I only lingered behind long enough to thank Jackson again for paying for us to get into the movies. After a quick goodbye and well wishing for the holidays, I scurried after Tegan, seeking the warmth of the house. After hanging up our coats and kicking off our shoes, I called out to let whichever parent was watching television in the living room know that I was home before making a beeline up to my room.

  Tegan hopped onto my bed and announced, “Jackson was flirting with you tonight.”

  I paused on my way to sit down on the bed and shook my head. “No, he wasn’t.”

  Tegan raised an eyebrow. “He put his arm around you at the movies.”

  “He probably just needed to stretch,” I shrugged, climbing onto the bed.

  “He tried to talk you into reading some of your writing,” Tegan scoffed.

  “So?” I didn’t follow how that was considered flirting.

  “I doubt Jackson’s generally interested in poetry,” Tegan pointed out. “If he was, he could go check a book of poems out from the library. He wanted to hear yours.”

  I rolled my eyes. I didn’t bother saying that he was probably just curious.

  “He said you smelled good,” she pointed out. She raised her brows up and down and grinned, as if a general observation about how I smelled really meant something.

  I shrugged as she fell back against the bed. “So?”

  “You’re being intentionally obtuse,” Tegan glared. “Jackson likes you. It’s so obvious.”

  “You’re delusional. We’re just friends,” I argued.

  “I am not delusional!” Tegan exclaimed, sitting up. “If anyone’s delusional, it’s you!” Then, taking me by surprise, she pulled the pillow out from behind her and hit me on the back of the head with it.

  “Tegan!” I turned, my eyes wide with disbelief, and stared at her. She looked unrepentant, and she raised a single brow as if to say, “What?”

  My eyes narrowed as I grabbed for another pillow. Then, smiling deviously, I hit her square in the face with it. She fell back against the bed, and I burst into laughter.

  She sat up sputtering and pushed her hair away from her face as she declared a pillow war.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  I found celebrating Christmas with the extended Granger clan comparable to a visit to the dentist. No one I knew ever really wanted to go—I sure didn’t—but it was still required. Grandma and Grandpa Granger’s outdated décor was kind of like thumbing through the old magazines the dentist offered. While they served as a distraction, it was always almost a relief when my name was finally called, which was what it was like waiting my turn to open presents. Aunts, uncles and cousins were kind of like the technicians vying for human interaction. As soon as I’d take a bite of food, one of them always felt inclined to ask a question.

  It was all so very exhausting, and that didn’t even include the mind numbing drive to my grandparents’ house. By the time we’d arrived at the home where Dad grew up, my mind felt like mush. Luke had listened to “Circle Circle Dot Dot” by Jamie Kennedy and Stu Stone on his iPod several times, and, naturally, he’d had the volume turned up as high as it would go, subjecting me to the atrocity being passed off as music.

  At my other side, Skylar had whined the majority of the drive when she wasn’t scanning through a magazine that I would probably find at the dentist’s office when I went for my next visit. The whining wasn’t about any particular thing either. Instead, it seemed the entire world had done her wrong, and we were being punished for it.

  Mom and Dad, on the other hand, were unusually jovial. While seeing my parents in a good mood was nothing to complain about, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. It made me suspicious they were up to something.

  “What’s up with the Cleaver routine?” I mumbled when we stopped for a bathroom break halfway through the drive.

  Skylar raised her tweezed-to-the-nth-degree brows. I hadn’t meant to speak to her, but being cramped in the backseat of the car with nothing else to do, I’d forgotten my anger. Because Mom and Dad had started asking questions about why we weren’t speaking directly to each other, Skylar and I had taken to acting extremely cordial anytime we were forced into the same vicinity for an extended length of time.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” She whispered though both Mom and Dad were still inside the convenience store and Luke’s ears were full of music. “They totally got laid last night.”

  I shuddered at Skylar’s announcement, and Luke tore the buds from his ears. The look of horror on his face made it clear he’d been listening. “Oh my god,” he wretched. “I need to bleach that thought from my mind.”

  “That’s what you get for snooping,” Skylar smirked.

  I just shuddered again. I was with Luke on this. I needed to erase that thought from my brain as quickly as possible.

  �
��I guess that means they won’t be sniping at each other for a while,” she commented.

  “Please,” I said, holding a hand out as if to cover her mouth. “Just stop talking about it.”

  Skylar was still laughing when Mom got back into the car.

  “What’s funny?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Luke, Skylar and I chorused.

  That didn’t seem to assure Mom, but Dad climbed back into the car and we hit the road again before she could question us further.

  Even though I wasn’t looking forward to it, it was a relief when we finally arrived. We’d gotten stuck in traffic for over an hour after our stop at the gas station, which put our arrival time an hour later than expected. I wanted to break Luke’s iPod and cut out Skylar’s tongue, and, because I couldn’t get Skylar’s claims about Mom and Dad out of my head, I wanted to bleach my eyes after witnessing them holding hands during the traffic jam. Also, I badly needed to stretch.

  Going into the house, however, wasn’t so desirable. As soon as I stepped through the door, I was overcome by the scent of cinnamon. I, generally, had no opposition to the smell, but it was almost suffocating. I couldn’t decide if it originated from a candle or spray or if Grandma Granger had simply gone overboard with the cinnamon in the apple pie.

  While it was cold outside and I appreciated the warmth of the house, it felt as if Satan himself had stopped in for a bit and decided to warm the place up. I later overhead Grandma Granger say, “Oh, the furnace is on the fritz again!”

  “Well, Mom,” Aunt Helena, Dad’s older sister, said, “Why haven’t you got it fixed?”

  “You know Joe,” Grandma Granger sighed. “He’s refused to call someone in to look at it.”

  Grandpa Granger happened by at that point. “It would be a waste of money! I can fix it myself,” he said gruffly. Of course, he always sounded gruff and angry.

  “Then why don’t you do it?” Grandma Granger scowled.

  I bit my lip to hold back a smile. Dad’s parents were so different from Mom’s, but despite their grumpy disposition, they were my grandparents, and I loved them.

  Throughout the morning, because of the heat, we were forced to shed as many layers of clothing as possible without actually getting naked. As more relatives trickled in, the heat seemed to increase. By early afternoon, I was half tempted to prance about in my underwear. Of course, the fact that I now possessed the body of a female instead of that of a prepubescent male stopped me from going to that extreme.

  Thankfully, Dad’s family was much smaller that Mom’s. All of the relatives had arrived by noon. Aunt Helena and her husband, Jeff, had a son and daughter, Carter and Bailey, who were both older than Skylar, and they had arrived before us. As a whole, I didn’t care for any of them. Aunt Helena and Uncle Jeff were too stuffy. Carter was a sexist pig. He liked to tell crude jokes when all of the parents weren’t around, so I tried my best to steer clear of him. Bailey always acted like she was too good to even speak to any of us.

  “I bet she’s secretly the campus slut,” Luke muttered. Somehow I’d found myself seated between him and Skylar on the couch. Bailey was busy regaling our grandparents with her college achievements.

  “Maybe we could ask Rebekkah,” I suggested, thinking of our other cousin on Mom’s side of the family. “I think they attend the same university.”

  Luke’s eyebrows rose with interest, and Skylar, gleefully, dug out her cell phone. “I’ll text her.”

  Dad’s younger brother, Jack, and his wife, Teresa, arrived with their three kids, Wade, Leanne, and Jason, while Skylar was sending the text to Rebekkah. The kids were all younger than me and a bit on the rowdy side. I thought it was amusing because Dad always acted like Mom’s family was so unbelievably obnoxious. Honestly, though, the kids didn’t bother me much. At least they were enjoying themselves.

  Grandma Granger’s sister, Margot, and her daughter, Frances, were the last to arrive.

  I didn’t mind either of them, really. For as long as I could remember, though, everyone always claimed, “Aunt Margot could go at any time.” For someone continually on her deathbed, aside from being pretty old and nearly blind, she looked pretty good to me.

  The best part of my day was probably when Great Aunt Margot sat next to me during dinner. “You’re Theo’s oldest, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “No,” I replied, somewhat surprised because I didn’t get mistaken for my sister often. “That’s Skylar. I’m his youngest, Cecilia.”

  “Ah, Cecilia,” she nodded. “I remember being your age.” She dug her false teeth into a piece of chicken and chewed slowly. I thought maybe that was the end of her thought, but after she swallowed, she went on. “So young and nimble. What I wouldn’t give to be that age again,” she sighed, deep in thought. “Now I’m blind as a bat with tits down to my knees.”

  “Mother!” Frances exclaimed from her seat on the other side of Margot.

  I nearly choked on a piece of chicken. I quickly excused myself before rushing to the bathroom to completely lose it. I laughed until I cried, thinking of what Margot had said and ridiculous jokes that involved “choking” and “chicken.”

  When I finally got it together enough to return to the dinner table, Grandpa Granger demanded, “Where were you for so long?”

  “In the bathroom,” I answered honestly.

  Apparently he’d missed Margot’s comments that had sent me off laughing, and he went off into a tangent about the importance of having a daily bowel movement.

  Everyone at the table looked rather uncomfortable and embarrassed as he spoke because, obviously, going number two wasn’t ideal table conversation. Finally, Grandma Granger cut him off. “Joe, I’m sure everyone here knows the importance of being regular,” she said. “Now hush up, we’re trying eat.”

  The heat was sweltering by the time we opened gifts. I could feel the sweat dripping down my back as I sat squished between Luke and Skylar on the tiny loveseat.

  All of the grandkids received matching packages from Grandma and Grandpa Granger. We were allowed to open that particular gift at the same time. When I lifted the lid from mine, I felt very much like Ron Weasley did on Christmas day because inside I found a knit sweater in the most atrocious shade of mustard yellow.

  I held it up, looking to my left and right, and found my siblings were holding matching sweaters. I glanced around the room and found that our mustard yellow was only slightly better than the baby poop green sweaters Bailey and Carter received while Wade, Leanne and Jason had been given mud brown.

  While the younger kids’ faces scrunched up in distaste, the rest of us forced smiles, trying to hide our horror, before thanking our grandma for her hard work. Luckily, the aunts and uncles were more practical and simply gave us gift cards.

  By the time everyone started packing up to head for home, I was feeling lightheaded from the heat and had a cinnamon induced headache. The walk from the front door to the car felt like the first breath of fresh air I’d been allowed since we’d arrived.

  I fell asleep with my head on Luke’s shoulder during the drive home. When we arrived home, I was groggy and disoriented. Mom led me by the elbow into the house, and I muttered a quick, “Goodnight” before fumbling my way upstairs with Luke behind me, pushing me up the steps, until I made it to my room, where I promptly passed out.

  The next morning we all slept in late. It was eleven before I finally forced myself out of bed, but that was only because my bladder was screaming at me for relief. When I got downstairs, it was to find Dad lounging on the couch while Mom was busy in the kitchen, preparing some of the side dishes for lunch the following day.

  It was odd not having anything to do on Christmas Eve because it was usually spent with the extended family. I half wished we’d gone to the Grandparents Sawyer’s house for the day, but I knew I’d see them Tuesday.

  I made myself a sandwich for lunch and talked with Mom while she bustled around the kitchen. Even though I’d just got up, I still felt sleepy. I decid
ed to take advantage of Skylar and Luke’s apparently sloth-like behavior and took a long, hot shower.

  Afterward, I got online long enough to wish everyone on MySpace and Facebook—though I didn’t have many friends there—a happy holiday. I was contemplating crawling back into bed when Mom came up and asked, “Feel like helping me make cookies to take with us on Tuesday?”

  “Sure,” I agreed easily. As if I’d turn down a chance to bake and nibble on cookie dough?

  Mom had already set out most of the ingredients we’d need for the cookies. “We’re going to make half batches of four different kinds of cookies,” she informed me.

  “Okay,” I nodded. “What kind?”

  Mom grabbed a stack of recipes and looked at them as she said, “Sugar, chocolate chip, peanut butter chocolate chip and snickerdoodles.”

  Immediately, my tummy gurgled at the thought of biting into each type of cooking. I wasn’t sure if the gurgle was in anticipation of the sweet treats or the inevitable stomachache that would most definitely follow. It was possibly both.

  I rubbed my hands together in anticipation of getting to work. “What do you want me to do?”

  Mom gave me the task of preparing the chocolate chip and peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, because the dough for them would need to chill in the refrigerator for about thirty minutes before we could bake them, while she prepared the sugar cookies.

  We worked quietly for a while as we mixed the ingredients. We only spoke when we needed something passed our way or when we were singing along with the Christmas music playing on the radio as we moved about. By the time I’d completed the dough for the chocolate chip cookies, Mom was scooping spoonfuls of sugar cookie dough onto the baking sheets.

  The third time I caught Mom sampling the dough, she shrugged with a smile. “It’s the best part.”

  I couldn’t have agreed more and was delighted when she held out a lump of dough to me. I took it happily and popped into my mouth.

  Once Mom had dipped out all of the dough onto parchment paper lined cookie sheets, she put the first two sheets into the oven to bake and cleaned out the bowl she’d used so she could start putting together the snickerdoodles.