by Tiana Smith
I mimicked him, propping myself up, bringing us that much closer together. The air buzzed with the electricity between us, but maybe I was the only one affected.
“Should I go? I don’t want to take up all your thinking time.” I chewed on my lower lip while I waited for him to speak. I vowed to wait it out this time.
He glanced at my lips and back to my eyes. He leaned slightly forward so we were only inches apart, lying on the tree-house platform with the stars above us. I didn’t move.
Then Logan closed the distance between us and placed his lips on mine.
My hands seemed to have a life of their own, and the one that wasn’t supporting my weight was around his neck before I could process what was happening.
I forgot where we were. I forgot this might not be the best time. I forgot how to breathe, all because Logan was kissing me. His lips were soft and questioning, and I was leaning into him just as much as he was holding me.
He brought one hand to the back of my neck, and I wanted to stay right there forever. I’d thought Vince had been a good kisser, but this was different on so many levels.
Logan caught my lower lip with his and I felt the rush of adrenaline go all the way to my toes. My free hand found his shoulders, then his chest. I needed to feel him close to me, to feel his nearness and know he wasn’t going anywhere. He brought his hand from my neck to my cheek before spreading his fingers into my hair, pulling at something much deeper, closing the distance between us in a way I hadn’t experienced before. I was dizzy with his kiss, drunk with the feeling of being needed, wanted.
But after a minute, his kiss became hesitant, like he didn’t trust himself. Or maybe me. It was more like a question than an answer, and that fear wormed its way deep into my thoughts, until I didn’t know what to feel anymore.
Logan pulled back, dropping his hand from my hair. His eyes searched my face for a long moment. My heartbeat was loud in my ears, but I didn’t dare break the silence.
“Sorry,” he finally said, turning to look up at the stars. “I didn’t think that through.”
Sorry? What did that mean? I couldn’t answer him, so I stared at the sky, looking for the North Star—something to guide my swirling thoughts. We didn’t talk for a minute while I waited for Logan to sort through his emotions.
I tried to reach out my hand to hold his, but he pulled back, leaving me confused. My fingers froze in the empty air, paralyzed by his rejection. What did it mean? Had he just been kissing me out of some need for comfort? Because he was already feeling depressed about his mom? Or did the sinking feeling in my gut mean he still liked Elena? It was a crushing thought, and I suddenly found it hard to breathe.
“Mia, are you sure? Like, really sure?” Logan asked suddenly, turning his head to face me in the dark. “You just broke up with Vince. I can’t be your rebound.”
“You’re not,” I said quickly. “I’m sure.”
Maybe I didn’t sound convincing enough, because Logan still looked uncertain. The darkness closed in on me then, and I fought to control my expression. I tried one more time to hold his hand, but he moved his farther away.
So was that my answer? I took a deep breath and tried to sound more confident than I really felt in that moment.
“Logan, I broke up with Vince because of you. You’re not my second choice. But are you sure?” Maybe he really was interested in Elena. Because I’d pushed him away.
“Sometimes I’m not sure about anything.”
His answer took all the breath from my lungs, leaving nothing but a few crumbling echoes. I waited, hoping he’d change his mind, but Logan didn’t say anything else.
“I should let you think about things,” I said finally, sitting up and placing my hands on my knees. He nodded, which was like a knife to my heart.
I stood up on wobbly legs, climbed down the ladder, and walked away, my hands shaking the whole time. With each step, I felt that knife go deeper and deeper. By the time I reached my car, it had gone all the way through, leaving me hollow and numb.
twenty
Monday mornings were, by their very definition, completely and utterly awful. But this one seemed worse than most. Or maybe it was just hard to get out of bed because I’d been up late trying to wrestle some words onto the page for my next article. Last I’d checked the board, I was still in second place, behind Joey’s comic. And he wasn’t letting me forget it—he taunted me every day in journalism. Now I regretted staying up so late. The circles under my eyes were so dark, they’d need a pound of makeup, and I barely had enough energy to drag myself out of bed and to the closet. At least I could wear my pajamas to school in the name of school spirit. One less decision for my tired brain to make. Spirit week started today, which meant homecoming was this Saturday. Of course, I’d messed everything up, so I wasn’t feeling particularly spirited.
I’d waited all weekend for Logan to call, but not a word. Not a phone call or text or smoke signal. Each passing hour felt like a nail going into our coffin, and it made me want to shrivel up in the closet or maybe get a cat—or ten—to console myself. Maybe he hadn’t made up his mind yet, but honestly, how much time did a guy need?
It was hopeless, but somehow my heart didn’t get that memo. All the way to school, it kept coming up with reasons to cut Logan some slack. I couldn’t shut it up no matter how many times I told myself it was over.
The hallways were crowded with students barely covering enough skin to stay within the dress code, which was ironic, since my last article had been on the dress code. I saw more than a few guys trying to convince teachers they should be allowed to take off their shirts since they slept that way, and most of the girls were wearing slinky slips that showed more leg than can-can dancers in the Moulin Rouge. By the time lunch came around, probably 20 percent of the student population were wearing their gym clothes because their pajamas had been deemed indecent.
I’d settled on pajama bottoms and a matching tee, but when I got to the cafeteria, I saw that Elena definitely belonged to the Less Is More camp. She was wearing a cute graphic tee and shorts with long, white, knee-high socks (very Ariana Grande of her, Robyn pointed out). I wished I were cool enough to pull off that look.
I watched Elena surreptitiously as Robyn and I went through the lunch line. There weren’t any rumors about her and Vince being a couple, though there were plenty about our breakup. Most people didn’t know whether to feel sorry for me or blame me, so it was like there was a bubble of silence wherever I went. People would suddenly become quiet when I passed by, and I felt their eyes now as I added a pudding cup to my tray.
The stares didn’t bother me as much as I thought they would. It was simply too exhausting to keep up with everyone else’s idea of perfect. And in the end, really, what for? Worrying about it in the past hadn’t gotten me anything besides one awkward relationship and a whole lot of crazy drama. And I sure didn’t need any more of that, thank you very much.
Elena sat with the rest of the student council, half of whom were wearing their gym clothes. Elena was in the center, her shiny hair straight and perfect. She didn’t look toward Vince’s table, and she didn’t actually eat anything. Her fork swirled the spaghetti around her plate, but everything else was untouched.
Robyn and I paid for our lunches and moved to a table close to the doors. Logan was sitting with some of his other friends, but he very pointedly didn’t look in my direction. I hesitated for a full five and a half seconds, but I wasn’t up for public rejection just yet. I set my tray down with a dejected thump.
Still, I couldn’t help but watch him. I was pathetic. So, so pathetic. Eventually he looked up, met my eyes, then immediately shifted his gaze away to Robyn. Talk about ouch. The rejection made my cheeks burn.
Then he looked over at Elena, making my blood boil. Did he like Elena? Why had he kissed me then?
I clutched my fork in a death grip and stared down at my plate, practically searing a hole with my gaze.
We’d only been sitting for a
few minutes before someone came to our table. I looked up in surprise to see Elena standing across from me, to the left of Robyn. She dropped her tray on the table with a clatter, leaving the Jell-O wiggling. She sat down but didn’t say anything. Her look said it all for her. This was one angry bird.
“Ummm … hi,” I said.
Robyn ate her sandwich silently, her gaze bouncing back and forth between us.
“You know, I’m beginning to question how we were ever friends,” Elena said. “How could you do this, Mia?” I stopped breathing while my brain jumped into hyperdrive. Had she found out about the kiss? Did she like Logan now? I was going crazy. I could feel it, but I couldn’t help it.
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’d I do this time?” I was jittery and angry, so I clamped my hands to my sides to keep them from shaking.
“Seriously?” she asked. “You’re going to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about?”
So this was about the kiss with Logan. I searched my brain for something to say, but came up empty.
“Like you don’t know that Vince came over this weekend to ask me to homecoming?” Elena continued. “When I know for a fact he asked you already. Do you think I’m stupid? You know, after I kissed Logan at mini-golf, I knew you had to have put him up to asking me to homecoming. Because even though he might act like it, he feels nothing for me.”
This statement shouldn’t have made me so happy, especially because Elena wasn’t done chewing me out.
“First Logan, and now Vince. I might suck at school, but I can do the math, Mia. I embarrassed you publicly, and now you’re dying for a chance to even the score.”
I wanted to argue, but Elena wouldn’t even let me get a word in. Everything I wanted to say started to simmer under the surface, biding its time until Elena finally got off her freaking soapbox.
“I’m not falling for it, Mia. So whatever crazy plot you have going on, you can just forget about it. If you were going to have Vince stand me up for homecoming, he won’t get the chance. I told him no.”
At this, Robyn put the sandwich down. I felt annoyed on Vince’s behalf. He wasn’t to blame here. He’d actually been downright amazing about everything, and he didn’t deserve to have Elena go off on him.
Elena stood up to leave, but I wasn’t about to let her have the last word.
“I don’t get you,” I said, getting up also. “You like Vince, right? So why is it so hard for you to believe he genuinely likes you back? Vince dumped me on Friday, and I thought you’d want to gloat, but no, for some insane reason, you think I’ve orchestrated a crazy scheme to get back at you. Well, news flash, Elena: I’m over it. I’m over Vince, and I’m over you, and I’m over all of this.” I could feel the heat reaching up my neck, but I wouldn’t let myself cry, no matter how frustrated I felt in that moment.
“Like I’m supposed to believe that,” Elena said, her voice shaking. Her face was getting red, and her hands were clenched into fists. “And you.” She pointed at Robyn. “Don’t play innocent here. I know your matchmaking business is what caused this mess.”
Robyn’s eyes got really big. I boiled over. How dare Elena drag Robyn into this?
“Hey now.” Robyn stood up also. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Before you accuse us of anything horrible, Elena, maybe you should look in the mirror.” I felt bad as soon as I said it, but it was refreshing at the same time, like eating a lemon.
Elena sucked in a breath and grabbed the yogurt from her tray. I barely had time to read only 90 calories on the side of the container before she chucked it at me. It hit the front of my shirt with a splatter, the pink goo dripping down my V-neck.
“Oh no, you didn’t,” I said, picking up my pudding and tearing off the lid. It was sailing through the air a second later. Elena shrieked and tried to duck behind the bench, but the pudding hit her back with a thump. She squealed like a guinea pig as she twisted around to view the damage.
“This is designer,” she hissed.
Robyn took a step back, holding her hands in front of her. “You guys—”
“Then it should go with anything. Even chocolate. Oh, and by the way, I’m not sorry.” A girl to my right watched us, but other than that, I was surprised by how few people had noticed the catfight going on. Sure, we weren’t shouting or anything, but still. How come whenever I wanted to go unnoticed, I couldn’t help but become the center of attention, but when I needed someone to see how completely unhinged Elena was acting, no one even cared?
Elena picked up her plastic plate of spaghetti and tapped her finger on the edge.
“Don’t,” I said, taking a step back. I glanced at Robyn, who looked torn between intervening and going for help.
“Oops,” Elena said, drawing back and launching the plate at me. She overestimated, and the plate crashed onto the table behind me, spraying everyone there with spaghetti sauce. It looked like a murder scene from a thriller movie.
Then someone yelled, “Food fight!” and carrots rained down like confetti. Within minutes, all chaos broke loose.
I could imagine the headlines tomorrow. Our features section would have a field day with this, which didn’t exactly bode well for my chances in the competition. The cherry on top of what was already a bad day.
I crawled beneath the table but not before getting hit by another cup of yogurt. Strawberry, of course. My shirt would probably have a pink blotch for all eternity. It all started piling up on the floor around me, a literal minefield of questionable school lunch food. A second later, Robyn joined me.
“Well, this is fun,” she said, picking something red off her pants.
Through the opening between the benches and the table, I could see students scurrying to get out of the way of flying spaghetti. A carton of milk landed a foot away from where we crouched, sloshing liquid all over and spraying my face.
The noise in the cafeteria reached roar status, and I could no longer distinguish one shriek from another. A foot stepped into the spilled milk and someone came crashing down next to me, landing on the tile floor with a whoosh.
“Oh my— Logan, are you all right?” I asked, helping him crawl beneath the table for shelter. He rubbed the back of his head and grinned.
“You know, I shouldn’t be surprised you’re in the middle of all this,” he said. “Do you go looking for drama, or does it just seem to find you?” I wanted to kiss the smirk off his lips, but one quip wasn’t enough to convince me all was right between us. He’d gone all weekend without calling me, after all. I tried to stay mad, but this close proximity was doing funny things to my brain. With all the noise and motion around me, I was already dizzy enough. I sat back and put as much distance between us as I could, which wasn’t a whole lot. We were camping out underneath a lunch table, after all, and Robyn wouldn’t move over.
Logan shifted his weight so he could see more of what was happening. He cradled his camera protectively with one hand, even though it was still in its case. He kept fiddling with the strap like he was itching to take pictures of all the action but didn’t want to risk damaging his baby.
A packet of ketchup flew past his nose, and he dropped his hand. “You looked pretty mad. Are you okay?” He turned to me then, and I tried to read the expression on his face. A flurry of hope made my heart beat faster, but it was squashed just as quickly when he added, “Where is Elena, anyway?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” I said. One side of his lips quirked up in his token half smile, deflating my anger somewhat. A stampede of feet ran past our table, and one student slammed into it. I jerked back and fell against Logan, who steadied me with his hands. When he didn’t remove them, I almost stopped breathing.
“What were you arguing about?” he asked. I could barely hear him over all the noise, his voice just above a whisper. Robyn was focused on the world outside our little bubble, and I felt myself relax against Logan.
“Stupid stuff. Vince asked her to homecoming. She thinks he’s only pretendin
g to like her.”
Logan’s eyebrows drew together, and his gaze darted to Robyn, who was wiping her hands on her jeans.
“Vince really likes Elena,” I said. Then, because I remembered our conversation from the tree house, I added, “And I am completely fine with that.” A crash sounded nearby, but I didn’t turn. I needed to see Logan’s reaction.
Logan’s face was unreadable. He was so good at hiding his emotions that it made me want to scream. Not that my screaming would have been heard over all the commotion going on around us. The food seemed to be flying at a slower pace now, probably because most of it had already been thrown.
The atmosphere in the lunchroom suddenly shifted, and I heard whispers of “The principal’s coming!” spreading through the crowd.
“Not. Good.” Robyn started to get out. And she probably had the right idea. If Principal Egeus found out I’d been instrumental in starting the food fight, my perfect school record would be shot. Logan helped me crawl out from under the table, and I scanned the floor for the best exit route. I was too late, though.
The principal walked into the cafeteria, and there wasn’t a student there who wasn’t intimidated. Everything about him demanded respect. He was six feet four inches of solid muscle and probably could have passed as a tank if he stood still for long enough in the school parking lot.
He surveyed the cafeteria silently. He took in the spaghetti sauce on the walls, the smashed fruit on the floors, the broken trophy display case— I did a double take. When had that happened? Shattered glass littered the floor surrounding it, and jagged edges framed the gaping hole in front.
I looked back at Principal Egeus to see his reaction, and his face was all hard lines. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
“You’ve all demonstrated a deplorable lack of respect for your school and faculty.” His deep voice echoed off the walls. “Not to mention you risked the safety of your fellow students. Everyone here will face consequences for what happened today.”