Yeah, she was blonde. Yeah, she was pretty and skinny and had the breasts—although, come to think of it, she didn’t have them last spring—but the odd thing was, she was working it hard for Chris’s attention. She leaned against his desk and did every hair-flip-eye-bat move she had and he seemed…I don’t know what he seemed like, but he certainly didn’t seem like he was getting digits.
When Mrs. Wolfson came in at the bell, Chris almost looked relieved. Maybe he’d already hooked up with Math Girl. That’s the only explanation I could come up with.
Class got started. Lots of examples on the board. Lots of theories that almost made perfect sense. No pop quiz, which just plain ticked me off because I was prepared. And through it all, Chris sat in the middle of the room watching the board as if it were the latest Ridley Scott flick. I half-expected something to blow up or a battle scene to break out.
He paid attention. He took notes. He raised his hand. Mrs. Wolfson never called on him, but still, I highly doubted a guy with Chris’s ego would raise his hand in class if he was not 117% sure he knew the answer.
Or thought he did.
Either way, I was remarkably happy when math was over. Slinking out the back door, I managed to make it to my locker—thankfully avoiding Chris—when I realized he hadn’t looked back at me. Not one time. Maybe I wasn’t the only one doing the avoiding.
~*~
The parking lot was packed. My plan for a quick escape, destroyed. Not only was there a game tonight so the cheer squad and soccer teams were taking off, but it was Friday. That could only mean a huge rush to get off campus. To escape the pressures of that building and every person in it for a few days.
Amy chatted about her latest road race while we waited to get through the line of cars ignoring the stop sign at the edge of campus. It was one of the friend concessions. She talked about running—I worked really hard at listening. She was passionate about it so I tried to figure out the allure of sweating, panting, and pounding the pavement. I even tried running one summer. I was a complete failure at it. But, if there was a race, I was there.
With all our chatter, I’d begun to think her second period of Art had cleared her brain of my run-in with Chris. Oh yeah, and the small matter of the breakdown in the bathroom. Can’t forget that now, can we? Breakdowns were usually hard to overlook. Trust me.
“So…”
And, here it comes.
“What’s going on with you?” Amy asked. “Today in the bathroom was a little intense.”
Amy had known me seven years and had never seen my version of intense. And I planned on keeping it that way.
The worst part was, I thought I’d been holding it together then. No sobbing. Vomiting done by the time she’d gotten there. I knew I’d been making enough sense that she wouldn’t realize a minor snap was happening. I was able to get myself out…out of the black hole in my mind. Out of the girl’s room, for crying out loud.
The panic attacks had become moments in time instead of days—or weeks—of life brought to the lowest common denominator. They’d become like boxes of bad I just needed to climb out of to go on with my day. If I could get out of it, I could go on, I could put it behind me and go on with my day. It was like a really bad headache to normal people. Nothing was going to be great, but if you could just get rid of that headache you could bounce back to what looked like a normal day.
Compartmentalizing, as Dr. Meadows called it. I’d gotten really good at compartmentalizing. If I wasn’t good at it, life would be one long panic-attack-recover-panic-attack cycle.
“Just, you know, stuff.” I gave her my most reassuring smile. “Senior year stuff. And Jared and the blonde. Nothing to worry about. Just a little stressed, you know?”
More lies. I was living off lies. If lies were food, I’d qualify for The Biggest Loser by the end of the weekend.
I kept my eyes on the road, perfect excuse not to meet hers. I mean, that stuff was all true, but it didn’t answer the real question she was asking. There was no way I was owning up to that stuff. She’d end up hating or pitying me, and I couldn’t stand either of those. Amy was my normal.
“Okay.” You don’t get to be someone’s best friend for that long without knowing when they’re lying to you. I guess that goes both ways. But she let me do it, only giving a slight questioning tilt to the word and letting it drop. I wondered how long she’d let me get away with it if things didn’t get smoother fast.
I crossed the little bridge that led to the dirt lane she and her dad lived on. Her cottage was something out of Snow White—cute, sweet, lovable. It fit her. If I lived there, I’d constantly feel like I wasn’t living up to the cottage’s expectations.
What else was new?
Chapter 4
To be honest, I didn’t mind helping Amy at the games. Not that I loved soccer or anything, but it did let me hang with her and watch what was going on in the crowds. And, you know, cute boys in soccer shorts are always a plus.
In the locker room, Coach gave a little pep talk. His office had an outside door and he’d let us in after the guys were dressed. Amy had confiscated his desk where I helped her put together the stats binders. Actually, Amy put binders together. I tried to put them together, but then she’d take them apart, change everything and put them back together again. Every time I gave up she asked me why I wasn’t helping. Like I said, I was easily distracted by cute soccer boys in shorts. Either way I was useless, but I guess that wasn’t the point.
As I watched her sort through another page of statistics, the weirdest thing happened. I’d never been aware of him before. I’d always been aware of Amy being aware of him, but I couldn’t have told you if Chris Kent was still in the county or not, let alone the room. Until tonight. I could feel him on the far side of guys circled up. It might just have been my paranoia that I’d slip to Amy about the tutoring, but I knew he was there—I could sense that focus he kept reined except when he was on the field.
Hopefully that was it. I’d crossed into Soccer World and aggression was just rolling off him.
I tucked my hair behind my ear and turned enough to study him. I should have been more surprised to find him watching me too, but I wasn’t. It made sense. We were in this stupid secret double-life-tutor-thing. Trapped. I’d seen a hint of him at the library that—if he wasn’t the best actor in the RV—had me wondering if maybe there was a small, little something under the good looks and charm.
I started to wave, but realized that would be exactly what he didn’t want me to do. I didn’t want that either. I didn’t want the whole look-at-us-we-know-each-other-suddenly-and-you-can-all-start-wondering-if-I’m-hooking-up-with-him thing. Instead I gave him one of those little smiles you give someone when you don’t want everyone else to notice. Only, he didn’t notice either. And that’s when I realized it wasn’t me he was watching. It was Amy.
Of course it was Amy. He’d all but told me he was crazy about her. Why would he be watching me? I knew what he saw when he looked at me. Especially next to her.
My heart was already racing and I had to find an inner-window quick. If I had a panic attack twice in one day—even a little one—I’d have to admit it to my mom and then I’d be right back where I started.
Nightly sessions with Dr. Meadows discussing my emotional hierarchy.
Calm. Breathe. Calm. I closed my eyes and pictured my “true self” (those air quotes belong to said Dr. Meadows).
Right before I’d left my room tonight, I’d played my trick on myself. I took my contacts out and stood back from my mirror. That was how people saw me. No one would look closely enough to see the monstrous flaws I noticed. To the whole world I was blurry—I held on to that, comforted.
And Chris Kent sure as hell was not going to put me back in full time therapy. Part time was more than enough, thankyouverymuch.
An anger I hadn’t felt before washed over me. I grabbed onto it like a lifeboat, hoping it wasn’t going under more quickly than I was. I was angry at him for not notici
ng me and angry at Amy for being so noticeable and angry at myself for being angry about both those things.
I started to look again, but why bother? There was nothing there I wanted. And, any misconceptions I’d gotten about the school’s biggest player were not going to help me focus. I checked my hand as it came up to rest over my crazed heartbeat.
That’s all that mattered, getting that crazed part gone.
“I’ll be right back.”
I caught Amy’s eye as I tried to ease out of the locker room office into the hall so she’d know everything was all good. Focus. It was all about focus. And The Rules.
Rule 1: Don’t put yourself in situations that might trigger attacks.
Rule 1A: If you’re in them and can’t chill, get out.
I was getting out, and fast, because there was no way I was letting an ass like Chris Kent drag me under. If there was ever a boy worth drowning for, it wasn’t him.
God, this sucked. Even guys I wasn’t interested in—scratch that—a guy I couldn’t even stand was able to bring this on.
The air was cooler, not to mention fresher, in the hall. It smelled less like boy, more like institutional sanitizer and old-building-ness. I gasped in the old-building-sanitized air, focusing.
At the older section of school I leaned against the lockers, twisting to one side to fit between locks. Stop the comparisons and focus.
I forced myself to back away from the comparison I knew Chris was doing. Tried not to follow where that path led. Maybe he could see everything wrong with me. Maybe he can see the monster I am.
I grasped at something good. Something positive and likable.
I loved my hands. They’re small and delicate. When I was little someone told me I had concert pianist's hands.
Raising them to eye level, I studied them, memorized them. Long, slender fingers. Small-boned. Delicate wrists. Perfect manicure.
I have great hands.
Remembering that—and knowing I saw the worst in myself—helped. As my mom always said, it wasn’t all about me. No one was looking at me.
I stifled a sick laugh. And that was the problem today, wasn’t it? No one was looking at me. Jared had walked right by, new girl firmly in tow, and not seen me. And now, the last guy I’d ever want looking at me wasn’t, and I flipped.
Maybe this no-meds thing wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped it would.
Part of me missed them. Missed the daily little pill that made emotions just dull enough to get through the day. That slowed down the attacks enough to spot that emotional escape hatch. That allowed me to not worry and believe all the things my doctor and mother told me. That I was fine. That I was normal. That I was pretty.
They allowed me to date and socialize. Hell, they allowed me to leave the house.
My hands stilled and my heart slowed. It was just a rough day. Tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow would be easier. Not a problem. No problem at all.
I pulled my Sugar’d Whine gloss out of my pocket and slid it on. Then a second coat just to be safe.
Through the locker room door I could hear the masculine war shouts start as I snuck back into the office in time to help Amy carry her paperwork down to the field. She was all business as she signed in the refs and the other team. That girl was almost as bad as the boys.
It blew my mind how seriously these guys took soccer. It wasn’t like it could save their lives or anything. It was just a bunch of hot guys chasing a ball around. Fun to watch, but stupid to live for.
Amy checked her watch and jotted notes as the refs did whatever the heck refs do. The whole time she mumbled about Luke’s position as co-captain and his superior-loyalty standards.
Behind us, the stands were full. People already cheered and shouted at the rival team’s fans. A mountain of green and blue rose in a wave over the bleachers as people rushed to their feet when the teams took the field. Excitement vibrated everywhere. The air shook with an energy that was almost a rush.
This was why I loved the games. The crowd overwhelmed to the point you could get lost in it. It reminded me of a church revival I’d seen on a late night movie. Everyone focused on the same thing, positive, fixated. No one stood out as anything but a member, even if they didn’t have the grass beneath their feet and legs that ate up the field like a deranged lawn mower.
And then, because this day had been one trial after another, I saw him…I mean them. Jared and the blonde. She was tucked against him and bubbling up happiness in a way that made me want to be sick right there in front of the entire school.
He’d chosen her over me. He’d chosen to leave me—a supposed good thing—knowing he’d be moving on to the next girl. Probably already had her picked out since I’d heard they’d been at Jovi’s two days after The Talk.
He smiled down at her, nodding as she said something and then looked up toward the field, his gaze stopping on me for the first time in two weeks.
Something was there. I’m not sure what, but something. A friendship he knew was lost? Pity? Sympathy?
Whatever it was, it wasn’t something I had any interest in. I spun back toward the field and focused on the game as a whistle blew, the calming scratch scratch scratch of Amy scribbling notes in her blue binder beside me.
For the first time today, I didn’t let it overwhelm me. I didn’t let him control me without even trying.
“So, you know what’s going on over there?” I asked, trying to think about anything but the happy couple.
Amy nodded as she noted something else, her gaze never leaving the players. I wondered how she did it. Stayed so focused. There was her guy—her very attractive guy—out there running around on those long legs, carrying those great shoulders, acting all aggressively manly on the field, and she was counting things like SOG and offsides. Whatever the hell those were.
But that was Amy. She had it all together. She made it look so easy.
The game went on and on, lots of guys running around doing their pushing and sprinting and kicking stuff. I couldn’t seem to work up the same level of excitement Amy did about winning. But it was great to sit next to her as she jumped up and down and waved to Luke as he jogged off the field.
The only thing I could really think was thank God this day was finally over. I tried to recall another that had been this long, but besides the first few days at Camp Osheen, I hadn’t had a day like this one in forever.
I think it must have had at least seven extra hours.
As soon as I got the go-ahead from Amy to take off, I was heading home to my room and never coming out again.
“Rachel!” Amy’s voice carried down from the top of the hill where her fingers wove through the chain link fence that circled the field—a high school version of a death match ring. “We’re going to Jovi’s. You’re coming, right?”
I really, really, really, really didn’t want to. I wanted to go home. My head hurt. I felt like crying from emotional exhaustion. I needed to be alone. But there she was, ignoring Luke as he stood behind her smiling at me like he didn’t mind sharing her. What could I say?
“Sure.” I mean, how much worse could it get?
~*~
Every time you say the words how much worse could it get you’re opening a portal for mass chaos on an unimaginably epic scale. Even if you just say them in your head. Proving that the universe can hear inside your head…ponder that puppy.
Jovi’s, the former peaceful retreat of the dynamic duo—otherwise known as me and Amy—had somehow become the local hangout for the soccer team that night.
OK, not the whole soccer team, but enough of them that it didn’t feel like home. It made me itchy having them all there.
I sat facing the door across from Amy, which meant when Luke came in, I noticed the Plus One immediately. I pasted a smile on my face and did my best to look like this was not a bad set up waiting to happen as Ben Harrison slid into the booth next to me.
“Hey, Ladies.” Luke leaned in and kissed Amy’s temple as she blushed at the show of a
ffection.
And then the snuggling began. I guess it wasn’t really snuggling, but she fit so perfectly under the arm he tossed over her shoulder that it was hard for it to look like anything else. A warmth rushed through me. Seeing her that happy made me happy.
There was a reassurance in it that grounded me.
“So, Jovi’s?” Ben glanced around, his standard grin in place. “It has a certain charm, but who are all these guys milling about?”
Luke laughed as another pair of freshman red-shirted players walked by.
Yeah, I thought. My question exactly.
Amy glanced around, her vision finally Luke-clearing. “Looks like half the soccer team is here.”
“That’s what happens when the popular guys decide to take over our little dive.” I tried to say it lightly, like I was 100% joking. I may have even pulled it off because no one shot me a look.
Ben and Luke both laughed. Actually, neither of them probably realized they were two of the It Boys. There was something vaguely charming about that.
“Great, male underclassmen flock to us.” Ben glanced across the table at Luke. “Lucky us, huh?”
“I don’t need a flock…any flock.” Luke stared down at Amy.
Amy stared back up at Luke.
There was an eternity of silence before Ben finally—thankfully—cleared his throat bringing the couple back to the planet the rest of us live on.
“So, what’s good here?”
Amy and I ordered our usual. So did Luke and Ben, only they ordered a pizza each. And non-diet. Darn their athletes’ metabolisms.
Then, oh-so-casually—okay, not casually at all—Amy glanced at Luke and says, “We need to pick those things up at the counter?”
Luke glanced toward the counter. “We do?”
“We do.” Amy gave him a little push, more of a tickle, under the ribs to get him moving.
Luke, of course, did her bidding, sliding from the booth as I watched Phase Two of Amy Fixes Rachel’s Dating Life kick in.
Secret Life (RVHS Secrets) Page 3