In the hallway, Dad scratches his bloated, hairy stomach. Gross.
“Know your place,” he says. “And we won’t have a problem.”
He pushes past me, bringing with him the sharp stale scent of body odor. He walks into the bathroom and kicks the door closed behind him. A certifiable army of insults to hurl at him swarms my mind, but I force them down. He’s big and probably violent, but I’m strong, I know I am. I can handle him. Not that it would ever get to that point, because I can’t ever challenge him.
A Nice would silently go back to his room and wait. So that’s what I do.
Once I’m in my room, I place the bundled-up pile of clothes on the end of the bed and turn on the computer. It’s a laptop, sleek and gray and awesome. It boots up. I open Google and stare at the search box. It looks like I could search for anything, but I know my searches will be monitored. I have to make sure I never search for anything that could get me in trouble.
I open the desk drawer and find that it’s filled with gadgets. I pick up a phone, a Samsung, and tuck it into my pocket. Underneath a bundle of cords is an iPod in a blue case. It must be there so I can listen to the music that Juliet likes, but I’ll probably be able to load some of my own music—including, of course, Nicki Minaj’s entire discography—onto it. It’s been a while since I’ve had a headphones-in listening session in my room, so I should have one soon. Plus, like always, applying her words to my life will let me steal a little bit of her behemoth self-confidence, and confidence is what I need if I’m going to win this thing.
The toilet flushes and the bathroom door swings open. Dad walks out, still scratching his gut. It’s covered in little white flakes of God knows what. I scoop my clothes up and walk in after him.
The stench hits, so thick I can taste it. My eyes water and I cough and gag.
Harsh male laughter sounds down the hall. There’s a pause, and a woman’s follows suit, a high-pitched cackle.
I slam the door closed. Worried the stench will infect my clothes, I reopen the door and throw them into my room. Then I undress and step into the shower. A limp stream of lukewarm water trickles over my body. I squirt a splash of body wash onto my hand and rub it into my chest, creating a foamy white lather. Lifting my arms, I rub it into my armpits. I squint, marveling at the hairlessness of my underarms. Apparently, a Nice is not allowed any body hair at all.
The smell of the neon-blue gel, slightly like fruit punch but mainly like chemicals, fills my nostrils, covering the stench of shit. I tilt my head back and let the water run through my hair and down over my face. It feels pleasant, warm, and slightly refreshing.
As the foam runs down my body the smell comes back with a force. I grin. This is his attempt at intimidating me? It’s almost funny. I stifle a giggle as I turn off the taps, shutting the water off. I rub the towel through my hair so it spikes down over my forehead, then drag the towel across my chest, mopping up as much water as I can. Then I wrap it around my waist and step out of the bathroom.
In the hallway is Dad, dressed in my uniform. It’s obviously too small for him, as the shirt is strained to capacity. One of the buttons, the one beside his belly button, has burst, and the fly of the gray slacks is unzipped. He’s standing there pouting, with his wrists as limp as possible and his butt sticking out. Oh wow, Kaylee really wasn’t kidding about the slim-pickings thing.
“Look at me,” he says, his voice high-pitched. “I’m Caden. Aren’t I a pretty boy? Look at me waddle!” He shakes his bum and flails his limp wrists around. “I work out all the time, and I …”
I grip the towel around my waist. I have to ignore him. He wants me to break character, to reveal my real self, and that’s not something I can ever do. If I let my anger show, he wins, so I keep my eyes down and enter my room. I close the door and discover, thankfully, that it has a lock. I slide the latch across then drop the towel. My face is burning so hot the feeling has flowed down my neck to my chest, which feels like it’s on fire.
I run a hand through my dripping hair and take in a deep breath through my nostrils. I’m pacing in a small circle on the carpet. I did the right thing. It feels awful to let him get away with it, but it was the right call. I have to recognize that, because it’s the only way to deal with stuff like this.
My heartbeat slows to its normal tempo. I finish drying myself, then grab a pair of briefs, bright red this time, and step into them. Once I’m dressed I glance at my phone to check the time. Crap, I should’ve been out the door two minutes ago! I pull on a pair of socks, then black dress shoes. There. Done.
I take a step toward the door, then double back and grab my script from the desk. I’ll have to read it on the bus.
My fake dad’s in the kitchen now, still in my uniform, sipping from a bottle of beer. He takes a sip and eyes me. “I wear it so much better, don’t you think, Patty?”
“Shut up!” she screeches back, and she grabs the remote and points it at the TV. The green volume bar slides up. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Well, I’m off,” I say with a cheery wave. I’m acting Nice because I have to, but a childish part of me wants to spite this guy. What should I call him? I was hoping to call them Mom and Dad, to get some sense of normality, but that’s obviously not in the cards now. Maybe I could call him D? That’s perfect because it does technically stand for Dad, but it also has a second meaning, one only I’ll know. “See you later, D.”
D sneers at me. “I look forward to that so much.”
I wince, then slide past him, pressing my back against the wall to avoid his girth. He’s not fat, exactly, just solid, and he smells like the beer he’s drinking: salty and acidic.
The school bus is outside the house, waiting for me almost expectantly. I jog down the steps and run up to the bus door. The driver is a short black woman with straight hair. She smiles, and I feel the tension leave my shoulders. Not everyone out here is horrible.
“First day?” she asks.
“Yep.”
She pulls a lever and the door hisses closed behind me.
“Sit near the front. Some of the kids at the back can be pretty savage to you blazer types.”
“Thanks.”
I find a spare seat near the front of the bus. I swing into it as the bus pulls onto the road.
I’m on my way, Juliet.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Mapleton Academy is a sleek, modern private school surrounded by a black fence. The windows gleam in the sunlight. It’s so picturesque it could be a set. But it’s not. I repeat it like a mantra. It’s not a set. This school is real. Everything that’s happening is real, because I’m finally in the real world. Dyl and I are the only things here controlled by the LIC.
I step off the bus and take a moment to appreciate the beauty of the school. The buildings are obviously new, and all the walls are smooth and freshly painted. There’s no grime, cracks, or creeping weeds. Flower beds filled with rosebushes and other colorful flowers I have no hope of identifying are scattered around the place.
Caden?
Yeah?
It’s Kaylee, obviously. How are you feeling?
I’m still a little freaked out about you being in my mind.
Get over that real quick. You need to be in position in twenty seconds. Do you see the steps that lead into the school?
In front of me, past the open gate, is a set of concrete steps that lead into a cream-colored building. Between me and the steps is a speckled concrete pathway filled with students bustling around, chatting or playing handball.
Sure do.
Run! Juliet is making her way down the hall. You need to be outside waiting for her. Go!
I sprint toward the steps, ducking and diving between the herd of students. They all glare at me as I pass. Once I reach the steps I skid to a stop. There are three steps, then a set of navy double doors.
Put your arms out in front of you!
What?
Do it!
I move my arms forwar
d.
The door swings outward and Juliet steps out. She looks like her hologram: beautiful in a simple, unboastful way. She steps forward, and her ankle twists on the first step. She falls. I take a step toward her and she smashes into my chest. Hair flies into my face, making my eyes water and my nose itch. I blink the tears away and lower her to her feet.
Her hands remain on my chest, with her fingertips curling slightly above my shoulders. She looks down. Her books are in a pile around our feet. She bends down, but I move faster, scooping them up. I pass them to her, and our eyes meet. Time to win this thing. My eyes widen slightly, as if with a flicker of recognition.
“Juliet?”
She moves a strand of hair away from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. She’s peering at me with her head tilted to the side and her eyes narrowed. She’s kind of short, and her head just reaches my chest. Strangely, it makes me like her more. “Do I know you?” She doesn’t sound unfriendly, just curious.
“I guess not,” I say, looking down at the top of her head. “We used to be friends. But it’s been a while, and I sort of knew you’d forget me.” I extend a hand and offer my best smile. “I’m Caden.”
She takes a step away from me. Her eyes are twitching, looking over my face, studying every minute detail. Come on, Juliet, put it together. If you don’t, I’m screwed. Slowly, recognition dawns on her and her mouth drops open, the edges of her lips curling into a smile.
“Shut up! Caden? Caden Walker?”
“The one and only.”
She squeals and flings herself at me. Her arms wrap around my neck. She smells like floral perfume. I hug her back, pressing her against my chest. She’s soft and warm, and touching her feels nice. Not in a I-want-to-rip-her-clothes-off way, but in a friendly way, like I’m genuinely happy to see her and she’s genuinely happy to see me.
We pull apart. “So, you remember me?”
She playfully pushes my arm.
“You were my best friend, Caden; I’d never forget you. I just…”
“Didn’t expect me to be here? Well, I worked my ass off to get a scholarship to afford it. But I did it, and here I am.”
“Oh my God, I didn’t mean that! I just meant that I, um, I didn’t expect you to look like …”
Scratch the back of your neck. Make sure your shirt pulls up. Show her your stomach.
I raise a hand and scratch the back of my neck. For a second, and only a second, her eyes flick down and gaze at the sliver of skin that is showing, then she glances at the floor. She looked! But did she like what she saw? Are my abs good enough to impress her?
I tuck my hands into my pockets and fidget, giving her my best Nice-guy puppy-dog eyes. “Like what? I’m not disappointing you, am I?”
She laughs. “Come on, man. You know you’re gorgeous. You used to be this sweet little boy, and now you’re freaking buff!”
“Well, I won’t be for much longer,” I say. “I had to help out on Grandpa’s farm over the summer. Spending days riding horses and lifting hay bales had this side effect. I’ll be back to my normal scrawny, pasty-white self in no time.”
“Don’t apologize, you look great. Different, but great. Now, what’s your first class?”
“Trig.”
Her face falls. “Oh. I’m in AP calculus. And I really have to go. But I’ll see you at lunch, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“Great. Come on, I’ll show you to class. You’ve got Mr. Corhedge, and he’s a grumpy little troll. You definitely don’t want to be late on your first day or he’ll make you pay for it for the rest of the year.”
Together, we walk through the double doors and enter a long hallway. Wasn’t she going somewhere? I should ask her where she was—
STOP! It’s Kaylee. Don’t be a freaking idiot! If she remembers where she was going she’ll leave and you’ll lose some time with her.
I press my lips together. Inside, students are bustling around, grabbing books from lockers or heading toward classrooms. A girl with a huge tumble of curly hair and a thin Asian guy are holding hands in front of the boys’ bathroom. They’re staring into each other’s eyes, and they seem so focused on each other that I bet I could scream at them and they wouldn’t even notice. Will I ever have that with Juliet? Will I ever be able to look at her without thinking about the fact that we only met because I’m a Love Interest?
“Do you have your locker yet?” she asks as she stops in front of one and opens it. Inside all the books are sorted alphabetically. A black-and-white picture of a man and a woman, presumably her parents, is stuck on the back of the door. “If you don’t, you’ll need to go to the principal’s office before class. Have you done that yet?”
I’m out of script!
Improvise, man! Use words!
“Is something wrong, Caden?”
“No, I’m fine. It’s all a little overwhelming, that’s all. And no, I haven’t, I only just got here.”
She looks down at her watch. “I know the feeling. Head down the hall and take the first right. The door at the end of that hallway is his office. Sign in and head to class.”
“Will do.”
She bites her bottom lip. “See you around, Caden. I can’t wait to properly catch up.”
“Neither can I.”
She grins, then spins and makes her way down the hall. As she walks, the people around her glance at her. A surge of protectiveness flares in my chest. Is this love? Is this what it feels like?
After being signed in by the principal—a short, balding man with an overly firm handshake—I’m assigned a locker. When I find it, I see it’s right next to Juliet’s. Of course it is.
The next time I run into her is during lunch. She’s sitting at the far end of the courtyard in the shade of the school’s chapel. She’s sitting with her back against the stone wall, next to a thin black girl who could easily be a model.
I walk up to Juliet. “Hey.”
Juliet smiles. Damn, she’s pretty. I got lucky. Who knows, maybe in time I could actually fall for her.
“Hi, Caden.”
“Well, hello,” says the could-be-model girl. “Where have you been hiding my whole life?”
“Natalie!” says Juliet. “He’s not a piece of meat.”
Oh yes I am.
“Not hiding,” I say, fidgeting. “Just on the other side of the country. I’m Caden, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She ignores me and turns to Juliet. “He’s not the Caden, is he?”
Juliet looks me in the eye. She squints in the brilliant sunlight. I can feel the warmth on the back of my neck. “The one and only.”
“Now I know why you wouldn’t shut up about him.” Natalie turns to me. “Wait, is he blushing? That’s so adorable I think I’m going to die on the spot!”
Juliet pushes herself up off the wall. “Come on, Caden. Let’s catch up.”
We stop in the corner of the playground and sit down on a long silver bench in the sunlight. She turns to face me.
“Caden, I need you to fill me in. What happened after you left? You never responded to my messages and …” Her voice trails off. “Sorry. I wanted to be friendly. But man, that was so unlike you. Whenever I’d check my in-box I’d hope that there would be a message from you, saying hi. That’s all I wanted. What I got was four years of radio silence and a bunch of shitty feelings. And then you show up at school with no warning? What’s the deal with that?”
I scratch the inside of my palm. “Mom said I was never coming back. She told me it was best to forget about you, so that’s what I tried to do. I know it doesn’t excuse my behavior, and I’m sorry I didn’t reply, but I didn’t handle being away from you that well.”
“So you shut me out? Why is that better?”
I fan a hand through my hair. I imagine Craike staring at me, judging my performance. “I can’t explain it, but I was a kid, and writing to you reminded me of how much I wished I was sitting next to you. I tried to make other friends, but that didn’t work
; I never clicked with anyone as much as I clicked with you. I resented them for that. And I knew if we kept messaging the pain would get worse. So I was a coward and I stopped. I’m sorry, Juliet, and if I could go back, know that I would message you every single day.”
She looks down at her black dress shoes, and her hair falls over her face. Her hands, which are dotted with freckles, are shaking. Why is that happening? What am I doing wrong?
I slide an inch toward her. “But I’m here now, Juliet, and if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, I’ll do it.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
She smiles a sheepish smile. “Well, there is one thing. Later on in the term.” She rolls her eyes and chuckles. “No, it’s stupid. Forget I said anything.”
“I said I’d do anything, Juliet. I meant it.”
Two little bursts of pink light up her cheeks.
“Well, for my art project, I need to do a, um, portrait. And I need a subject. And, well, there aren’t a lot of guys willing to pose for me, because it has to be, um, you know.”
I gulp a hard swallow and raise both eyebrows. “How naked are we talking?”
She tilts her head back and laughs. “Oh God … only shirtless. I can look up pictures online for the rest of you and …” She laughs again. “I know I sound kinda weird right now, but I promise I’m not. I’m like, ‘Hi Caden, I haven’t seen you in ages, now come into my house and strip for me.’ Sorry. Forget I said anything.”
I shake my head. “I said anything, so I’ll do it. It just means I need to stay away from the cafeteria.” I pat my stomach. “I need to make sure I keep this figure. And I was looking forward to letting myself go. But it would be my pleasure to do this for you, Juliet.”
“Thanks, Caden. Really.”
The bell rings. She skips back to her friends, leaving me alone on the bench. I watch her go. So that’s the only girl I can ever be with. She’s pretty, and she seems nice. It could be so much worse. I guess I got lucky.
How’d I do?
Kaylee’s laughter sounds in my mind.
The Love Interest Page 6