“Can you believe we’ve been studying together for—what—about three weeks now?” Jason said casually. Too casually.
“Hard to believe it’s actually been working out okay,” I said dryly.
“Then you agree that it’s going okay?”
“Sure,” I said without looking up from my literature book. “Why?”
“Don’t you remember what tomorrow is?” Something about the tone in Jason’s voice made me look up from my book. His mouth and eyes had a funny tenseness about the edges, and he seemed almost nervous. Very un-Jason-like. So of course, I had to take advantage of such a moment as this and have some fun with him.
“Let’s see. Oh yeah, that’s right.” He relaxed back into his chair and seemed to visually unwind. I nodded seriously before saying, “It’s Friday!” Jason rolled his eyes and chucked a wadded-up piece of paper at my head. “Wait, don’t tell me. It’s the big game against—now, who is it against again?”
I got another wad of paper chucked at my head for that. “Yeah, you’re really funny, Kathy.” The grin left his face, and his eyebrows drew together. “You seriously don’t remember what tomorrow is, do you?”
I shrugged. “Sorry. What’s tomorrow?”
“I guess it figures it would be a day I’d worry about more than you.” Jason sighed and continued. “Tomorrow we have to tell Mrs. Dubois whether we should keep studying together or not.”
I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten, but I had. I thought I’d be counting down the days until I could be released from this punishment, but shockingly enough, it hadn’t turned out to be punishment after all. I couldn’t deny that tutoring Jason had helped my own papers to improve. The only part about the whole arrangement that was really annoying usually happened right about—
“Jas! Jason!”
—now. Right on cue, Angela, with her bouncy blonde hair and bouncy trim body, came bouncing down the hall to our study table. And then, the only other annoying part about the tutoring arrangement happened. Almost like a mask slipping into place, Jason would turn back into football hero stud mode and quickly start to act Cool while he’d casually scoop up his literature book, papers, and pens, give me a quick “thanks” and “see ya,” and leave with her hanging all over him.
This time, though, while we were all standing up, getting ready to part ways, Jason surprised me by using his normal tone, with only a hint of Coolness in it, while he said, “So—are we staying on as study partners?”
Angela gawked at me, for once acknowledging my presence on the same planet as herself. After a second, she turned back to Jason and had the gall to laugh. “You mean, this isn’t over for good now? You can’t seriously mean you’re going to keep studying with her?”
Something about the way Angela said the word her—as if she’d swallowed a bug—made my stomach churn. I knew my face was red, but before Jason could say anything, I put a huge smile on my face and said, “I think our tutoring arrangement is going great.” At that point, I turned and looked at Angela purposefully. “I have no problem staying on as your English tutor.” With that, I turned smoothly on my heel and left them both, with Angela gaping angrily and unattractively at me and Jason trying hard not to grin.
~
I was still grinning to myself about tutor/study hall during dinner that night—yet another family dinner with Sam, Stephen, and Curtis, and Alex and Julie—and smugly replayed in my head the look on Angela’s face. I had successfully zoned myself out of the dinner conversation, which, as usual, had turned eventually to a subject that reminded someone of a story about Brett. Shortly before dessert, I vaguely tuned in to the fact that everyone was discussing some fantastic event that had happened on the high school football field when Brett was doing his magical role of quarterback, amazing the crowd with his supernatural abilities.
“Just having fall around the corner brings back all kinds of high school football memories,” Alex said in a dreamy voice. “Have you gone to any of the games, Kathy?”
I shook my head, too busy grinning over today to respond.
“I can’t believe you haven’t seen a game yet, Kathy. They’re such a lot of fun. You are really missing out!” Sam sighed, shaking her head.
“I have no interest in football or in football players,” I said with a shrug.
“No?” Sam said. I should’ve realized by the sparkle that was dancing wickedly in her eyes that trouble was coming. “Then what about this Jason you’ve been ‘tutoring’?” Sam gave me a huge, exaggerated wink. “Isn’t it true that he’s the Jason West? The new Central High Football Wonder?”
Just saying Jason’s name in the house in front of everyone as if I had a crush on him, as if the tutoring wasn’t for real, shot through me in a way that made me want to slap Sam. “What—what—how did—I’m not—” I was stuttering idiotically, but I was in shock that Sam knew anything about my life I hadn’t carefully chosen to tell her myself. Jason was not a subject that was open for discussion by her. Or anyone else, for that matter.
“Don’t try to deny anything, Kathy. Mom’s already filled us all in.”
I glared at Mom, who only looked surprised. “Oh, come now, Kathy. It’s not like I told the six o’clock news! I didn’t think you’d mind if I told your own sister and brother.”
“Glad to know I’m not allowed a speck of a private life in this house,” I grumbled angrily. “You know, if I’d wanted them to know, I would’ve told them myself.”
“So tell us the truth, Kathy. Are you really an English tutor for Central High’s most valuable football player?” I knew Alex was just trying to tease me out of my grumpiness, but nothing anyone could say was going to stop the foul mood that was coming on fast.
“Who would’ve known being a bookworm could help a girl rope a Varsity quarterback! Guess those English classes are worth something after all,” Sam said, more to Alex than to me.
“It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you spend some time developing what’s in your head instead of just messing with the hair on top of it,” I blurted.
“Ouch! Did little Kathy basically just call me stupid?”
“Well, if the five-inch, spiked, tacky heels fit . . .”
“Kathy!” I jumped at Dad’s bellowing. “That’s enough! Tell your sister you’re sorry.”
I turned to face Sam. “I’m sorry you’re stupid, Sam.”
Both Mom and Dad erupted over that comment. Sam babbled in a high-pitched voice about how snotty I was acting while Julie and Stephen coughed into their napkins. Even Curtis got into it by clapping and doing his own baby shrieks.
“Maybe you ought to go to your room if you can’t behave yourself,” Dad threatened.
“Good grief! Sam set herself up for that. If I’m going to be punished for anything, I ought to be punished for actually saying that old line. It’s the oldest joke there is,” I griped.
Mom shook her head at me, making the locket around her neck swing back and forth. “All I wanted to do was share a bit of what’s been going on with you at school with your brother and sister, and Alex and Sam were just trying to show some interest in your life, Kathy. Is that so wrong?”
“Wrong?” I shot back. “No, that’s not wrong. What’s wrong is that neither of them really cares about what’s going on with me. They just want to hear about The Amazing Jason West—someone they don’t even know. But why should that surprise me? The only person anyone here is interested in is the one person who’s not even around anymore!” I knew that comment would get me grounded for sure, so I pushed my chair out from under the table with a good hard, loud scrape and stomped off into my room. Tonight required listening to the Beatles album twice before I could stop grinding my teeth and clenching my hands into fists.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thanks to an inspiring talking-to from my parents after Alex and Sam left, I was still feeling moody the next day at school, so I wasn’t much use to anyone. Even Miss Goforth had to get after me for removing myself to my own planet instead
of being a part of the class. I’d half-heartedly agreed to work with six other students to act out the opening scene from King Lear as part of the dreaded Shakespeare festival. They’d even asked me to play Cordelia, King Lear’s youngest daughter, but apparently thanks to me, our group was getting nowhere fast.
It was our turn to work on the stage while Miss Goforth watched and critiqued. I could handle the glares from the others in my group when I messed up a line or had to be prodded that it was my turn to speak, but having Miss Goforth get into the act was a unique brand of torture.
“Kathy, I don’t mean to keep picking on you, but you’ve had to be prompted for every one of your lines today.” Something about Miss Goforth’s tone got the ball rolling today—straight for my head.
“Yeah, we’ve all noticed.” This from the guy playing King Lear. “By the way, are all of us going to get a bad grade if Kathy can’t pull herself together?”
“Yeah—we shouldn’t get an F just because she obviously doesn’t care.” And I’d thought Cindy—Goneril—actually liked me!
“Who cares about the grade? We have to do this in front of the whole school! I don’t want to look like an idiot in front of everyone because of her!” That figured. Rob—who played Kent—worried too much about what everyone else was thinking about him.
“Speaking of which, whose bright idea was it anyway to let her in our group?” So I was a nameless “her” now! Mike—Gloucester—had no idea what the word tact meant.
“Well, excuse me for asking her, but everyone knows how great her brothers and sister were in drama when they were at Central. I mistakenly thought she’d be a natural.” By bringing up my family, Michelle had proven herself to be evil enough to play the part of Regan.
“Hey, Miss Goforth, is it too late for us to get somebody else to play Cordelia?” The guy playing Edmund—I couldn’t remember his real name and didn’t care—was the biggest whiner that ever lived. But I’d had enough and was all set to whale on everyone when Miss Goforth interrupted.
“Enough! That’s enough, everyone. I’m sure Kathy will be just fine. Especially since she knows how much her grade depends on her performance in our Shakespeare festival.” Miss Goforth gave me one of her meaningful, over-the-top-of-her-glasses looks.
I sighed and mumbled my apologies. Not because those losers deserved apologies, but because I really didn’t want to have to force myself on another group and learn new lines. So I pulled deeper into myself and pretended as best I could to be Cordelia for the rest of the hour.
~
Long before the last bell rang, I decided to stay at school late to work on a paper. I couldn’t deny that the excuse to stay after school appealed to me because it meant I could put off dealing with my parents. The longer we avoided each other, the faster they’d get over my melodramatic fit, as my sister, Sam, had so insultingly called my outburst the night before. All too soon, though, it was time to gear up for the walk home.
I’d nearly forgotten the only way to the main doors was past the trophy case. A moment later I was there, staring again at that picture of Brett, all spiffed up in his brand-clean football uniform. Behind Brett’s picture was a large, framed, maroon football jersey with the number nine on it. Brett’s number. Most likely the one he’d worn in the picture. And next to that was the trophy from the year Central took region in football—Brett’s sophomore year. On the other side of the jersey was the huge trophy from the year Central took state in football—Brett’s junior year. And above that trophy was a shiny plaque with fancy words about how great Brett was.
I felt shivers go up my spine because I could swear Brett was looking back at me. I touched the glass lightly with one hand and felt that strange connection pulling me towards him. But that was crazy. I’d never even known him, and yet . . .
“Hey, you.”
I jumped at the gentle punch on my upper arm. Jason. In shorts and a T-shirt. My heart was pounding like it always did when Jason was around, but surely this time it was only because he’d startled me.
“Hey, yourself,” I said, punching him back not so gently in the arm. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be throwing a football around or something with all your cohorts?”
Jason laughed. “I’m on my way to go lift some weights.” He gave me an appraising look that made me feel like a bug pinned to a wall. “I can see you’re still out of it.”
I frowned. “Out of it?”
Jason nodded. “You were somewhere else all through tutor/study hall today. Again. Completely zoned out.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he pointed accusingly at me and grinned. “Don’t even try to deny it! I purposely asked you questions today that made no sense, and you just nodded and said, ‘yeah, uh huh’ every time.”
And I thought I’d just been a complete idiot in drama. “I’m sorry—I’ll be better next time. I promise.” I was sure he’d take off then, but instead he turned to face the trophy case, too. Luckily, there were a ton of trophies and awards behind the glass. There was no way he could know.
“Looking at your brother Brett again, I see.” For the second time, he made me jump.
I turned to Jason in surprise. “What do you mean—‘again’?”
Jason shrugged and looked back at Brett’s picture. “I’ve seen you here before. I know this is one of your haunts.” I must’ve looked irked at that remark, because he quickly moved on with, “I don’t blame you. I mean, the guy’s a legend. You have every right to be incredibly proud of him. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have him for a brother.”
I could feel myself burning cold all over. “No, you can’t. You don’t have any idea what it’s like at all.” My voice sounded so flat and unemotional I surprised even myself.
Jason looked at me with that appraising look again. “Hmmm. That sounds serious—with all kinds of ‘layers’ and ‘hidden meanings.’”
“Mocking me, as usual,” I said dryly. I couldn’t help grinning at him a little for poking fun at the things I constantly droned on about in our tutoring sessions. But at least he was paying attention and was maybe even learning something.
Besides the erratic change in my heartbeat that happened whenever Jason came around, another thing I couldn’t stop being aware of was that Jason was different when he was with me, whether it was studying with me during tutor/study hall or running into each other when no one else was around to see. Even though he was genuinely nice to me and teased me in a definitely pleasant kind of way, I couldn’t stop being wary of him. I knew if Angela bounced around the corner, or if any of his football buddies appeared, the mask would slip back into place and he’d become Mr. Cool and pretend I was just his tutor. Nothing more. I didn’t want to think about how much it stung to walk past him in the halls when he was with his friends, knowing he’d seen me, only to have him pretend he hadn’t. Or to quickly become so engrossed in talking or laughing with his friends that to the unobservant viewer, it would appear he couldn’t possibly have seen me walking by at all. It took all my self-control sometimes not to fake a seizure or scream or something just to see if he’d notice I was within ten feet of him. But why I even cared whether he noticed me or not was beyond me. Especially since I was sure I didn’t like him at all—I was sure I didn’t—
“So—what’s it like?” Jason prompted, snapping me back out of my thoughts.
“What’s what like?”
“Having Brett Colton for a brother.”
I should’ve known better than to think Jason would let the subject drop. When he was in the mood to probe, nothing could stop him. It was an irritating quality he had that I’d had the misfortune to discover due to our tutoring sessions. I slung my book bag from my shoulder to rest on the floor between my feet. “Believe me, you don’t want to know.”
“You say that as if having him for a brother is a bad thing.”
“You said it, not me.”
Jason raised one eyebrow. “Interesting.”
I didn’t say anything back. Something ab
out the way he was looking from me to Brett’s picture was—unnerving.
“Want to know something?” Jason said softly.
I glanced questioningly at him. “What?”
“I find my way over to this trophy case a lot, too. Mainly to look at your brother.”
That really surprised me. “Why?”
Jason tapped the glass with his finger. “I’ve heard stories about his amazing talent for the game my whole life. He’s had a huge impact on me since Little League football.” Jason turned away from Brett’s picture to look at me again. “Strange, huh? I mean, since I never even met him. He’s given me a nearly impossible standard to beat. Ever since people figured out I could throw a football, I’ve been compared to him. Here at Central, I feel like I’m living in his shadow.” Jason abruptly stopped and eyed me narrowly before saying, “What’s so funny?”
Had I really been smiling? Grinning? “And here I thought you couldn’t possibly have any idea what it’s like to have Brett for a brother.” Jason raised an eyebrow again at that remark. “You’re not the only one who has to beat an impossible standard he left.”
“I said ‘nearly impossible.’ There’s a difference. Which means that maybe I’ll have a shot at breaking some of his records. If nothing else, he’s given me some goals to shoot for.” Then Jason probed me again with those blue eyes of his, making my heart pound strangely. “But what about you? What ‘impossible standard’ of his do you think you need to beat?”
I looked away from Jason’s eyes. “Doesn’t matter. It’s impossible to ‘beat’ Brett in any way. In fact, it’s impossible just to forget him, period. For even two seconds together. Now that’s a feat my family will never be able to master.”
The Secret Journal of Brett Colton Page 5