Kiss with Cherry Flavor (Grover Beach Team, 4)

by Anna Katmore

  “Why not?”

  “Obviously, I’m not his type.”

  “Oh, come on, Sam,” he said a little too loudly, and Mrs. Hallshaw cast him a silencing look over her shoulder. His voice dropped lower once more. “Last Friday we officially learned he thinks you’re pretty, and the way you two cuddled up on Lisa’s couch at her sleepover was more than just what friends do.”

  “I fell asleep on his shoulder,” I corrected Nick dryly.

  “Yeah. Whatever.” He rolled his eyes and the conversation was over.

  *

  The morning stretched endlessly, and the closer it got to noon, the queasier my stomach became. After journalism, I walked into the cafeteria with my friends, immediately scanning our usual table for Tony.

  He was sitting there with Ryan and the guys, his back turned to us. Within a second, my appetite changed from wanting a burger to wanting to be kissed again. Damn. I swallowed hard.

  When Susan nudged me in the back because I’d gotten lost in staring, I quickly grabbed a plate of French fries and a lollipop.

  As we joined the boys, it felt like all of them were looking at me, but that was probably just my imagination. I lowered my gaze, set my plate down, and sank into the chair next to Nick, as always. When I looked up, I found Tony staring at me from across the table. His expression blank, he mouthed the word Hey.

  “Hi,” I said back.

  That was all we said to each other during the entire hour of our lunch break. Great. He avoided my gaze, and whenever one of his friends talked to me, he found something else to talk about with someone else, never wanting to be dragged into a conversation with me.

  His mixed signals were driving me crazy, so I was glad when Simone asked me to come outside to her car because she needed to grab her sports clothes before PE. I returned my tray and said goodbye to the boys.

  “Is it just me or is he acting a little weird today?” Simone said as we strolled out to the parking lot.

  “Who?”

  “Tony.”

  Right, who else? “I don’t know. He’s ignoring me. Guess it’s no different than last week.”

  “Ignoring you? Are you blind? He couldn’t take his eyes off you the entire time. Not for a minute.”

  Sorry, what? “He didn’t look at me even once,” I protested, truly confused now.

  “Sam, Sam, Sam…” Simone swung her long blond locks over her shoulder. “I don’t know what’s currently going on in Anthony Mitchell’s mind, but you’re definitely taking up a lot of space in there.”

  Was I? Right now, making sense of Tony was like trying to build a house of cards. As soon as I thought I could start with the second story, the entire thing came tumbling down. The kiss. Telling me he didn’t want more. Sending me sweet emails. Avoiding my gaze. Apparently, looking at me when I didn’t notice. What the hell was that all about?

  “Argh!” I raked my hands through my hair, pulling at the ends. “Why is he acting so…weird?”

  Simone lifted her brows and shrugged. “Because he’s a guy.”

  And that was my answer for the day. I had to live with it.

  After playing badminton in PE, I quickly dressed and hurried to AVE, intent on ignoring Tony the way he had done to me. If a damn kiss shoved us back to square one—not speaking to each other—so be it.

  I slid into my chair, knowing that Tony was already sitting in the back, and got my portfolio out, ready to hand it in to Mrs. Jackson. When she came in and I gave her all the drawings I had caught up with, she offered me a very personal smile, like she was really proud of me and happy with what I had accomplished. “I knew it was a good idea to team you up with my nephew,” she whispered, cutting a glance to the back of the room.

  I didn’t know if Tony saw it or not, because I refused to look his way, and returned to my seat instead.

  As Mrs. Jackson stood up from her desk then, she told us she had planned a special task for us. “I want you guys to work in pairs today. One boy, one girl. Each of you has twenty minutes to portray the other while your partner poses for you.”

  The room was silent as all the students made big eyes at her.

  “Don’t look at me like I’m trying to team you up with sheep,” she whined. “It’s just for this lesson. And since I know how hard it is at your age to pick random partners of the opposite sex, I’ll make this easy for you. Girls, please write your name on a piece of paper and put it in this bowl.” She fetched a plastic one from the top shelf at the back of the room and placed it on the corner of Deborah Westley’s desk. “Boys, you’ll each pick one name and then work in those pairs.”

  Sounded like a nice idea to me, even though I knew that drawing faces was one of my less-developed skills. Then I remembered what Tony had sent me last night. All at once, I wondered if there had been a reason for it. Had he known we’d be doing this today? I shook the thought off and ripped a little piece of paper from my notepad, scribbling my name on it. After every girl had tossed hers into the bowl, Mrs. Jackson handed it around so the boys could pick out a name.

  Jeremy Reece was the first to go and he read out loud, “Stacey.”

  Christopher, I didn’t remember his last name, went next. “Andrea.”

  “Melissa.”

  “Alice.”

  “Jordan.”

  Tony was next. My name hadn’t been drawn yet. What if he picked it?

  And what if he didn’t?

  Funnily enough, I found myself desperately hoping that he’d find the paper with my name on it. I wanted to draw him—have a reason to look at him closely, study his face. Spend time with him again.

  As if he could clearly hear all my thoughts, Tony looked at me, a piece of paper already between his fingers. He only had to open it and read out the damn name, but before he did, his expression turned soft, the corners of his lips twitching with a smile.

  Oh my God, was he hoping he’d picked my name, too?

  His gaze dropped to the sheet in his hand, then returned to my eyes once more. I held my breath.

  “Ivy,” he read out.

  My shoulders sank—and so did my heart.

  Two names after Ivy, mine was drawn. Robert, a tall brunet with blue streaks in his hair, was going to be my partner. He smiled and briefly waggled his brows at me.

  I gathered the things I needed and rose from my seat with everybody else, ready to head over to Robert and sit through this drawing lesson. But someone grabbed my wrist and spun me around.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I—” Stunned, I gazed at Tony’s face. Then I frowned. “Over to my partner.”

  “I think Rob changed his mind. He’s teaming up with Ivy now.”

  “What?” I glanced, disbelieving, over at Robert and the strawberry blonde who’d just taken a seat next to him, and then back at Tony. “You traded partners with Robert?”

  Tony shrugged. “Yep.”

  Crazy butterflies tried to escape from my stomach, just like yesterday. I wanted to ask him why—and when—he’d done it, but in the end, I didn’t press for details because he smirked at me, swept his arm in the direction of his desk at the back, and said, “After you, Summers.”

  I sat down in the seat next to Tony, which William Banes usually occupied, and placed my sketchpad blank side up on the desk. “You want to go first?”

  “No, you start.” Tony leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head, and rocked on two legs. “Let’s see if you can break your dimple addiction.” He winked and then one corner of his mouth tilted up, producing that adorable pit in his cheek.

  I propped myself on my elbows, leaning toward him, and lifted my brows. “I can’t draw you without a dimple if you smile like that.”

  Tony looked slightly confused, but his friendly expression remained. “I’m not smiling.”

  “Maybe not intentionally, but you are.” I started outlining the features of his face, trying to remember some advice from the information he’d sent me last night.

  He clear
ed his throat, and when I looked up next, the dimples were gone, together with his smile. In fact, he looked a little sullen, and I wondered if he was biting the inside of his cheek to keep a sober expression.

  Twenty minutes flew by like seconds. It was far too short a time to draw a true-to-life portrait. But I was content with the sketch of Tony I had in the end. When I showed it to him, he didn’t even complain that I’d drawn him with dimples and a smile after all. It actually made the corners of his lips ride upward again. Obviously, he liked how I saw him.

  “Your turn,” I prompted and made myself comfortable, pulling one knee to my chest and placing the heel of my boot on the chair. I folded my arms over my knee and rested my chin on the crook of my elbow.

  He looked gorgeous concentrating while his eyes switched back and forth between his drawing and my face. His mouth became a thin line. Sometimes he even chewed on his bottom lip. But during those rare seconds when he locked gazes with me, his expression softened and my heart fluttered.

  From the movement of his hand, I could tell when he was finished and writing something on the drawing. His signature, I assumed.

  “Can I see it?” I asked when the bell rang. There was no more time to show our pictures to the teacher or discuss them with the rest of the class.

  Tony ripped the paper out of the sketchpad and handed it over, upside down. “You can keep it,” he told me with a warm smile, then he picked up his backpack and left.

  I gazed after him until he was out of the classroom, totally bewildered by his checkered behavior. Shaking my head at myself, I turned the sketch over.

  My breath caught in my chest. Dear Mary, what had he done? I saw the exact likeness every day in the mirror, but there was something about this drawing that brought out a beauty I hadn’t seen in myself before. It seemed like Tony had captured a very obvious and very raw emotion I couldn’t quite place.

  Then my glance fell on the line he’d scribbled where his signature would normally go.

  This is your ‘I’m in love with you’ look.

  My palms turned sweaty where they lay on the desk and a rush of blood shot to my face. Right now I was more than happy Tony had already left, so he couldn’t see me baffled like this. Was it really that obvious? In my look? Oh my God. If I’d gazed at him like this yesterday, no wonder he’d thought I was waiting for him to kiss me. It was there, written all over my face.

  Gah! I clapped my hands over my mouth, cutting a glance at the ceiling. This was spinning out of control. I didn’t want to be in love with Tony Mitchell. Not when the feeling was one way.

  Where the heck was the off switch?

  I tucked my stuff into my schoolbag and walked home, wishing I could bang my head against a wall to rid my mind of Tony. What I needed was a distraction, so I danced away the afternoon in my uncle’s gym. It helped…temporarily. But as long as I kept myself occupied with little things, I was safe. A long, hot shower, homework, and later loud music and some drawing did the trick. I just couldn’t afford to let my thoughts wander back to that place in the forest and remember the feeling of his lips on mine.

  When someone tapped my shoulder, I jumped in my chair, ripping the headphones out of my ears. Pamela had nearly given me a heart attack. “Gosh, you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!” I panted.

  Pam gave me a sheepish smile. “Sorry, but you didn’t hear me knock or shout with the music on.”

  “What’s up?” I asked her then, because it was too early for dinner and she’d surely come to my room for a reason.

  “Did you perhaps use some of my painting utensils last week?”

  What a weird question. If I had, I would have asked her first. “No. Why do you ask?”

  “Two of my marten-hair brushes are gone. The big ones. I can’t find them anywhere.”

  “I’m sorry, but I didn’t take them.”

  “Okay.” Pam sighed. “I’m sure they’ll turn up eventually. At least I hope so. They were really expensive, you know.”

  I did know that. Good painting stuff was very costly. Wasn’t that strange? It was the second time something had gone missing since last weekend. Like there was suddenly a poltergeist in the house. Then again, the brushes had probably just rolled under the couch.

  I blew my bangs out of my eyes and continued with my drawing. As long as my stuff didn’t start disappearing, everything was fine.

  Susan came over that evening, and we watched some reruns of Teen Wolf together. It was funny how she sneaked inside, trying not to be seen by neighbors. Oh, it would have been her worst nightmare if people thought she was actually friends with my cousin. I could only shake my head and laugh.

  Glad for any distraction, I made her stay until it was time to go to bed. It meant less thinking about Tony for me.

  Unfortunately, that intention was kicked to the gutter as soon as I entered the school’s cafeteria the following day. Tony wasn’t there. And obviously nothing kept one thinking about somebody like that person’s absence.

  “Where’s Tony?” I asked Lisa between bites of my burger.

  She shrugged, and Ryan answered, “Gone home. Said he forgot something for his art class.”

  I frowned at my burger, wondering what that could be. All he needed for AVE was paper and a pencil or charcoal, and I knew Mrs. Jackson had enough of them on the shelves in the classroom for anyone who forgot their stuff.

  Unless…he wanted to avoid me again. What if he hadn’t forgotten anything, but just didn’t want to sit with me through lunch? Could that be it?

  I dropped the thought as Allie came over to our table and told us girls that cheerleading was going to be delayed until later in the afternoon today. Apparently she had some doctor’s appointment, which reminded me that I should go see Ryan’s dad again soon. But the wound was healing really well, and it didn’t seem all that necessary to have a vet take a look again.

  Before we left the cafeteria, I caught up to Ryan and said, “Could you tell your dad thanks again and that my leg is all right? He asked me to come back after a few days, but I don’t think he needs to see it again.”

  “Sure.” Ryan looked happy about the news. “He’ll be glad to hear it.”

  I stole Lisa from him then, and we hurried to gym, where it was badminton again. Not really my kind of sport, but at least I didn’t get sweaty today, so I could skip the shower afterward and be early for AVE. I hoped to get a hold of Tony before the lesson started to see what had kept him away from lunch.

  But when Tony walked into the classroom, his backpack casually strapped over one shoulder, he held his chin low and focused on the floor. He seemed totally untouchable, which kept me silent as he passed me. Damn. A simple “hi” or even just a look—was that expecting too much from him?

  With anger rising inside me, I wanted to turn in my seat and shout that he was a jerk and that I refused to deal with his crap any longer. Luckily, Caroline Jackson walked into the room after him, and my impulsive idea was cut short. I knew I would have regretted it for the rest of the year if I really had given him that piece of my mind.

  Instead I came up with something different, and no less stupid. I tore off the corner of a sheet and wrote two words on it: You suck! Then I scrunched it into a tiny ball and tossed it to the back of the room, where it landed right in front of him on his desk.

  Tony gave me a funny look, then unscrewed the paper. Slowly, his gaze returned to me, his right brow arching in question. I said and did nothing other than try to kill him with a lethal scowl.

  He seemed untouched by it. All he did was scrunch up the paper again and toss it in the trash can in the corner. Then he concentrated on Mrs. Jackson, totally ignoring me for the rest of the hour.

  CHAPTER 3

  BACK HOME, I slipped through the door, not wanting to talk to or even see anybody. If I had learned one thing from all the crap with Tony it was that my every emotion was apparent to everybody, written on my face for all to see. And that sucked.

  Trudging upstairs, I hun
g my head, ready to spend the remainder of the day in bed, wallowing in my misery or maybe playing music to blast all thoughts of Anthony Mitchell out of my mind. But then I remembered I had cheerleading practice later this afternoon, and the prospect of dancing and trying to look like I was having fun when I only wanted to bawl made me heave a deep sigh.

  Dropping my schoolbag to the floor, I flopped onto the bed and buried my face in the pillow. A little later, a knock on the door pulled me out of bed again. I opened it and found Chloe standing on the threshold with a pile of laundered clothes in her arms. She took an aggressive step toward me, which had me backing off.

  Her face in mine, she hissed, “This is my house, my school, my town, and you’re hanging out with my soccer team. I told you not to get between me and my family. But getting involved with Anthony Mitchell was your worst mistake so far.” She pushed at me until I felt the edge of the desk at the back of my thighs. “I swear I’ll find a way to get rid of you, little cousin.”

  I could only stare at her mad face, speechless.

  She turned around and headed toward the door, then spun on her heel once again and tossed the laundered clothes at me. “Here’s your stuff.” A moment later, she was gone and the door banged shut.

  A mess of clothes lay scattered at my feet. I couldn’t bring myself to pick them up right now. With the heels of my palms pressed to my temples, I glanced helplessly about the room. Why couldn’t I have my old cousin back? The one who loved to play Alice in Wonderland and who would never accuse me of stealing her parents or her friends. What had happened to Chloe to make her turn into this monster? And what did I have to do with it?

  I didn’t know how to cope with this any longer. If only the four months could be over and I could move into my new home with my family. Starting to hate this house and the room I was trapped in, I grabbed my gray hoodie and shoved my arms through the sleeves, then I rushed downstairs and out of the Summers’ mansion.

  Unsure where to go, I walked down to the beach, where I tossed stones into the waves for what seemed like hours. Not a very productive task. The need to talk to somebody grew inside me. Susan had soccer practice today, so my next best option was Lisa. With my hands tucked in my pockets, I ambled off to her place.