by Tricia Mills
Maybe he was right. Perhaps I would have some good days with bad ones thrown in. I wondered when the guilt over those good times would end. Maybe, without realizing it, I was already having more good days than bad.
“I guess.”
Jesse waited another beat before getting to his feet. “I better go do my own paper. I think I have about twelve words on what makes William Shakespeare’s work so important. Of course, I have to go make up some stuff, since Shakespeare puts me to sleep.”
Though his words should have made me sad, I actually laughed. “Spencer hated Shakespeare, too. Inside my cover of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, he wrote, ‘A Midsummer Night’s Snore.’”
“I like that. Maybe I’ll call my paper ‘Shakespeare: A Sure Cure for Insomnia.’ ”
“Yeah, I’m thinking the grade for that equals ‘Not so hot.’ ”
He sighed dramatically. “Fine. Off to write a bunch of lies, then.”
I didn’t expect a good-night kiss, especially since I’d rebuffed his earlier attempt, but his departure left me feeling adrift. I stood in the empty living room for several minutes, reexamining my unexpected feelings for Jesse.
Before I drove myself nuts, I headed for the stairs. I had some payback to dish out. I had a dozen tactics floating in my head when I opened my bedroom door to find Lindsay in front of the mirror. She was examining the fading bruise on her cheek. The deep purple had faded to a lighter shade, and part of it had begun turning yellow. She jumped back from the mirror.
I wanted to ask if she’d heard anything about her father, but I figured it wasn’t a topic she’d be in the mood to discuss. If she did, she’d bring it up.
“So, anything interesting to share?” Lindsay asked as she went back to the overstuffed chair where her homework was spread.
“Nothing, other than that Jesse has an undying hatred for Shakespeare.”
“Too bad the flirting didn’t pay off.”
“Flirting?”
“Yes, you were flirting.”
I stared at her, shocked. “I wasn’t!”
“Whatever you say.” She picked up her Alaska history book.
“I wasn’t,” I said again as I slid into my desk chair. Even as I said it, I wondered if I was lying to myself. Anyway, was flirting with Jesse such a bad thing?
I thought back to when I’d hit the purchase button for my costume materials. What did it say that I’d wondered more about what Jesse would think of the outfit than if it would be enough to beat Patrice’s? I’d never admit it aloud, but I wanted him to think it was hotter than Patrice’s vamp.
And I wanted the guilt associated with that wish to fly away.
“There is nothing holier in this life of ours than the first consciousness of love—the first fluttering of its silken wings.”
—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Quote-a-Day calendar
CHAPTER 28
I stared at the red and blue leather clinging to my body. “There is no way I’m wearing this in public.”
“Yes, you are.” Lindsay leaped onto my bed, the blond hair of her wig flying as she raised her wooden stake. “Even if I have to drag you by your blue-highlighted hair.”
I took another look at myself. It was a cool costume, but walking into the hockey rink wearing it made my stomach flip-flop. Maybe I’d just wear my coat the entire game and skip the contest. Really, what good would beating Patrice do anyway?
Then I thought of how she’d struck back at me by telling lies. How even Jesse standing up to her in the park hadn’t cost her any friendships or admiration. Sure, winning this silly contest wouldn’t make everything right again, but it’d be some small victory for me. A statement that she wasn’t winning on my turf.
Caleb drove us the short distance to the rink. By the time he pulled into the gravel lot, I felt like I was going to be ill.
“You’ll be great! Stop thinking so much,” Lindsay reassured me as she slid out of the truck beside me.
When we walked inside, I noticed all kinds of costumes. The typical witches and ghosts mingled with Dr. Seuss’s Thing One and Thing Two—the Shively twins—and a walking igloo. Lindsay took off her coat, revealing her Buffy outfit, which also included my cute pair of black boots. Sharing the same shoe size with your best friend had definite advantages.
Not ready to share my formfitting costume with anyone, I kept my coat firmly closed as we made our way to an empty spot in the bleachers.
“Come on, stop hiding,” Lindsay said. “Your costume rocks. Why do you want to hide it?”
Caleb craned his neck around Lindsay and peered at me closely. “Yeah, what’s the big mystery? Lindsay has been excited about it all week.”
“Fine.” I’d take off my coat if it’d stop their nagging. Might as well get it over with. People were already looking at my blue hair and lips anyway.
I heard the chatter start as soon as I stood and unzipped my coat. I nearly bolted. I tried to pull from the strength of Illyria’s personality. She wouldn’t care what everyone thought of her or her looks.
I pushed the sound of indistinguishable comments away as I refocused on the ice, watching Jesse skate around on the rink.
As the game started and the players began to fly across the ice, I relaxed and reacted with the rest of the crowd. The break between the first and second periods arrived before I realized it. Then two guys rolled a long rug out onto the ice and Jakob Mueller announced, “Anyone who wants to compete in the costume contest, come on down to the ice.”
Before I could balk, Lindsay grabbed my hand and dragged me down the steps leading to the ice. I spotted Patrice as we passed her. Long, shiny black wig. Blood-tipped fangs. Inky-black dress with black lace cuffs. I had to admit her outfit was going to be hard to beat.
Lindsay kept holding my hand as we took our places at the end of the line and waited for Jakob to make his way through all the contestants. I wondered if Lindsay’s black-leather pants and jacket were as cold as my full-length leather ensemble.
The winner would be judged by the crowd’s cheering, so I prepared myself for a loss when Patrice’s cheers nearly deafened me.
The girl led a charmed life, despite what she might think.
Lindsay’s Buffy outfit got a good amount of cheers, largely due to her hamming it up by pretending to stake Patrice.
“And finally, Winter Craig.”
I took a step forward but nearly jumped back when the crowd erupted. I glanced at Lindsay, who gave me two thumbs-up, then motioned for the crowd to yell even louder. They did. When the noise finally died down, Jakob said, “No need for a second round on this one! The winner by several decibels . . .” A drumroll came over the rink’s sound system, and I felt everyone’s eyes on me. “Winter Craig.”
Excitement surged through me, and it had nothing to do with Patrice. A costume I’d made had just won an award. True, it was only a twenty-dollar gift certificate to Shaggy’s Trading Post, but the prize wasn’t what mattered. I wondered if this was just the beginning. I smiled when I looked down at the certificate and, beyond it, noticed that the carpet they’d rolled out onto the ice was red.
I heard a disgusted huff and turned toward Patrice. I watched as she jerked the fangs out of her mouth and squeezed them tight in her fist. For one surreal moment, I thought she might cry. An empathy I’d thought she’d destroyed forever moved within me. But then she pierced me with a furious stare only I could see before stalking off the ice. Patrice wasn’t used to losing, and if Jesse was right, her parents wouldn’t like this streak.
I couldn’t wait until Patrice Murray and her parental issues were a distant memory.
The hockey teams returned to the ice as the rest of the costume contestants started filing off. I noticed Jesse and his stunned expression when he saw me, just as he ran into the back of Drew Chernov. He struggled not to fall, and I stifled a giggle.
During the second period, satisfaction and happiness filled up some of the empty places inside me. I watched Jesse skate, slam opposing pla
yers against the boards, and score. When he got called for high-sticking and was sent to the penalty box, he looked directly at me. My skin warmed, despite the cold that emanated from the ice. I wondered if anyone could see me blush with all the white and blue makeup coating my face.
In the few moments our eyes were locked, I wondered again what it would be like to kiss him.
When his attention returned to the game and the dwindling time on the penalty, I looked down at my hands, which were clasped in my lap. Was I a horrible person, thinking about kissing Jesse? When it hadn’t been that long since I’d kissed Spencer, the boy I’d wanted to love my entire life?
My joy drained away, like the water in a sink when the plug was pulled. I resisted the urge to leave. I didn’t want my mood swing to ruin how much fun Lindsay and Caleb were having. But when the final buzzer blew, I was the first to stand and head toward the exit.
“Winter, wait up!”
I turned to find Jesse hurrying up the stairs, still wearing his skates.
Lindsay leaned toward me. “We’ll wait for you outside.”
My mind whirled in confusion. I smiled at Jesse, but it felt shaky.
“Hey. Congrats on the win,” I said.
He motioned toward my costume. “I could say the same. What are you, exactly?”
I laughed a little. “Illyria. TV character from a few years ago.”
“Oh. Cool.”
Some people trying to leave the rink jostled Jesse, causing him to step closer to me. My breath caught in my throat as I met his eyes and remembered the thought I’d had earlier about kissing him. That possibility thrummed through my veins as his eyes dropped to my lips. I could even feel myself leaning closer.
Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—I spotted Spencer’s parents behind Jesse, walking toward us. I jerked away as Mrs. Isaacs noticed me and offered that sad smile I associated with her now. God, had she seen the yearning between Jesse and me? What must she think of me if she did?
Was this their first outing since Spencer’s death? Guilt gnawed at me. Their difficult first step might have brought them only more pain because of me.
“Congratulations on your win, Winter,” Mrs. Isaacs said as she approached. She patted Jesse on the arm. “Good game, Jesse.”
“Thank you.” Jesse and I said it at the same time, increasing the discomfort of the moment.
When the Isaacses headed away, I kept my gaze pointed at the concrete floor. Thoughts of Spencer dampened my mood again. I hated that. He’d always made me smile, laugh, love life, and look forward to the next day. Now memories of him made me sad, reopening the wound inside me every time it tried to heal.
I sensed Jesse’s frustration, but he reined it in, seeming to understand. He squeezed my hand and leaned next to my ear. “That really is a great costume.”
I could tell by the way he said “great” that he thought it was sexy, and that he wanted me to stop holding him at arm’s length. I wished I could.
When I said nothing in response, he sighed and let go. “See you later.” He started back down the stairs toward the rink and the locker room.
I stood and watched him until he was out of sight. I wondered if my mind and heart would ever stop spinning long enough for me to figure out what I should do. What I wanted.
“Love . . . ’Tis second life, it grows into the soul, warms every vein, and beats in every pulse.”
—Joseph Addison, Quote-a-Day calendar
CHAPTER 29
It was really odd how thoughts of Spencer haunted me every day, while I also thought of Jesse more and more often. He hadn’t made any further moves or even mentioned the near kiss. I wondered if my pulling away yet again had extinguished whatever interest had been there. My heart ached at that thought. Not the same kind of ache I felt when I thought of Spencer, but an ache nonetheless.
Even odder was how natural it felt to walk to and from school with Jesse, spend time doing homework at each other’s houses, and join Caleb in attending Lindsay’s basketball games. Sometimes I felt as if Spencer approved of me moving on. Others, it seemed like he was watching with disapproval from just out of sight. I didn’t know which, if either, was true.
November arrived with ever-shortening days and colder temperatures. A few inches of snow blanketed the ground on one of the days when neither Lindsay nor I had to be at Oregano’s after school. Because her mom had the flu, she headed straight home. I had to do some research in the school library after classes were over, so when I left, I bumped into Jesse leaving hockey practice.
“Waiting for me?” He gave me a crooked, teasing grin, the first I’d seen in a while. I felt a spurt of unexpected hope come alive.
“No, sorry. Didn’t renew my groupie membership.” Considering the unspoken tension that had risen between us since Halloween night, joking with him came surprisingly easily.
I headed out the door, and he followed, falling into step beside me as I walked toward the middle of town. As we passed through the main part of Tundra, we spotted Shaggy Murtough out in front of the trading post feeding Boo, his pet caribou. He’d saved Boo when she’d been a baby, after her mother was run over by a truck. Even when he’d tried to return her to the wild, she wouldn’t go.
Jesse nodded in Boo’s direction. “Bet you won’t see something like that when you move to Hollywood.”
“I don’t know if I’m going there.”
“That’s where the movie industry is.” He moved in front of me but kept walking backward. “After all, you’re already an award-winning designer.”
I stuck my tongue out at his teasing tone.
“Careful, that’s going to freeze out here.”
Lacking a witty comeback, I reached down and grabbed a handful of snow. He laughed and ran across Town Park to our street. I worked the snow into a ball as I ran after him. When it was round and solid, I slid to a stop and took aim.
“Ack!” Jesse spun around when the snowball hit him in the back and exploded. “Oh, it’s on!”
I squeaked and ran toward the other side of the street. A snowball caught me on the neck just below my knitted cap. Smaller chunks slid down my neck, making me shiver.
We shrieked and bombarded each other with snowballs all the way down the street to my house. Instead of running up the front steps, I careened around the side of the house to the backyard. As I rounded the corner, Jesse tackled me.
“That’s cold!” I wriggled to get loose but only managed to free one arm.
A wide smile of victory stretched across Jesse’s mouth. I reached over and grabbed a handful of snow, then proceeded to rub it all over his face.
A bit more rolling and slipping brought us face-to-face. We stopped struggling, and our visible breaths puffed out between us.
“I have a question to ask you, and I don’t want you avoiding it again.” He sounded so matter-of-fact, as if there wasn’t a charge sizzling between us.
“Okay.”
“Want to go to the Snow Ball with me?”
Memories flashed of me asking Spencer to the dance, him smiling and saying yes, and me dreaming of dancing in his arms. I pushed them all away. I didn’t want to feel this aching hole inside me anymore.
“Sure.”
“Good.”
I thought he’d release me then, but he continued to stare down at me. When he started to lower his lips toward mine, I panicked and turned my face away. I could convince myself to go to a dance, but this . . . this I wasn’t ready for. Was I?
Jesse let out a long sigh, then lifted to his feet. He offered his hand, though I could tell he was holding in barely restrained frustration. I didn’t mean to be so crazed—so hot and cold—but I couldn’t seem to help it. It was like I’d gone emotionally schizo or something.
Should I have said no? Should I just have cut the ties between us before we got in too deep?
Before we felt too much, and it ended badly?
“Whoso loves, believes the impossible.”
—Elizabeth Barrett
Browning, Quote-a-Day calendar
CHAPTER 30
The look of disappointment I’d seen on Jesse’s face nagged at me from the moment he walked away, all through that night, and into the next morning. What was wrong with me? Why was I holding on to Spencer when there was nothing beyond memories to hold on to?
Jesse was a good guy. Nice, understanding, funny. Gorgeous. And despite how I treated him sometimes, he seemed to like me at least enough to want a kiss.
Hoping I could make it up to him, I headed to the rink, where he and the rest of the team were slamming bodies with Cold Creek. I didn’t hide the fact I was cheering for him. Let everyone else think what they wanted to.
Almost an entire period went by before he noticed me. I waved and smiled. He offered a crooked smile below his visor, before skating onto the ice for another shift.
That smile made me feel better and increased my anticipation for the end of the game. I still didn’t know exactly what I might be ready for, but I had to admit I kept wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t turned my face away the day before. What would Jesse’s kisses be like? Though I tried to keep my mind from venturing down the track of comparison, I couldn’t stop wondering how they would measure against Spencer’s. They wouldn’t have the pent-up yearning that had fueled the kisses between Spencer and me. But would that make them any less enjoyable?
A new thought scared me. What if his kisses were better than Spencer’s?
I sighed as I watched Jesse fly down the ice. I doubted his kisses would be a letdown.
As the final seconds of the game ticked off the clock, I headed out to the lobby area across from the locker room. Not so close that I looked obvious, but close enough that Jesse could see me when he came off the ice.
It worked. He wandered out of the line of players in my direction. “Hey, Winter. I saw you cheering. Thanks for being here.”
“Yeah. I’m thinking of taking up cheerleading. Think Patrice will let me on the squad?”