I look back. The whites of Brynn’s eyes stand out against the night.
I’m an excellent swimmer. I have been since I was five, and teenagers have done things far more stupid than jumping off a pier at night. A list of all the things I’ve never done scrolls at rapid speed through my head.
Not anymore.
The swelling throb of my heart pounds inside me like dramatic background music that nobody else can hear.
Without another thought, I release my grip on the railing. The air rushes up to meet me. My stomach leaps into my throat. A shriek escapes just before I plunge into the ocean.
The cold water clenches around my chest. I open my eyes and stare up. The blackness is complete. My legs beat and my arms churn. I struggle upward.
My mouth breaks the surface in a loud, ugly gasp. I tilt my head back. Everyone is cheering and shaking their fists in the air. My teeth chatter uncontrollably as I tread water. Exhausted, I let my head fall below again and then bob back up.
Salt stings my eyes. I toss my head and then, underneath the pier, next to our campfire, I spot the outline of a person. In the smoke and shadows, he feels familiar and, although all I can make out is the silhouette, I have the unmistakable feeling that he’s watching.
After the lab incident—not to mention my leap from the pier—whispers follow me around school. They snake around me, cling to my clothes, and get tangled up in my hair. Stepping through them is like passing through a cloud of buzzing gnats; all I can do is keep my mouth shut and hope that none fly up my nostrils.
I’m making my way down the covered archway with Brynn. The morning fog has turned to drizzle, and the smell of wet grass and mud fills the air.
“Do you think she just snapped?” I hear someone murmur behind me. I fight the urge to look back.
“Were you there?” another voice responds.
I chew the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. I know this isn’t what one would call good publicity. But people noticed me.
Brynn must misread my worried cheek-chewing, because she wraps her arm protectively over my backpack. “Jackasses,” she says loud enough for the culprits to hear.
“It’s fine,” I mutter, not wanting her to cause a scene. Scratch that. Not wanting her to stop the scene. It’s as if I’ve turned a key and unlocked the secret chamber. Click. I’ve become visible again.
My hands tingle like they’ve been zapped with electricity. I’m buzzing with the same energy I used to feel poised on top of the dive stand. Goggles locked over my eyes, swim cap pointed toward the water.
Brynn unfurls her arm. Her blue-polished nails disappear into the pocket of her sweatshirt. “You have one public freak-out and all of a sudden you can’t catch a break, am I right?”
I let out a soft snort. “I know. If I was on reality TV, that wouldn’t even make the filler reel.”
“My thoughts exactly. I mean, I think people should at least wait until you’re running around naked before making a big deal out of it.”
Brynn drops me off at Calc, where two girls are already sitting a row back. One of them is Tess, and with her elbow propped up on a desk and not a drop of makeup on her face, she must be nursing a wicked hangover. Can’t say she doesn’t deserve it.
I slide into my desk and begin copying down our teacher’s notes from the whiteboard. From behind, clipped, tittering whispers reach me. I think they’re talking about me. My shoulders tense. Being noticed is one thing, but if Tess Collars forgot I lived on this planet, I’d be totally okay with that.
I sit back in my chair to listen.
“Where do you think he’s from?” I hear Caroline ask.
“How the hell should I know.” Tess’s voice is thick, as if someone’s playing a recording of her in slow motion. “He just got here.”
Definitely not talking about me. A flush rises in my cheeks. Since when did I become so egotistical?
“He might have just gone to public school before.”
“Who cares?” Tess hisses. “As long as he’s at least passably attractive. I could use some new scenery around here.”
“He’s more than passable,” Caroline confirms. “And he must have money, too, if his parents got him in this late in the year.”
So, there’s a new kid in our class. And apparently he’s quite dashing. Already a bigger conversation-starter than I am. Mr. Conway stands up and asks everyone to pass up their assignments from last night. It’s sort of strange to be starting at a new school partway through senior year, though. Did he get in trouble? That has to be it. After spending a few minutes pondering what dark past our new classmate must be harboring (drugs, probably, I decide), I go back to trying to listen to Mr. Conway explain limits and continuity, but mostly I just watch the rain outside.
I’m startled out of my reverie by the sound of the door slamming. My elbow nearly falls off the edge and I sit up with a jolt.
“Shut up. He’s in our class,” Caroline says a bit too loudly.
“He sure is,” Tess whispers. “Somebody hand me a camera, because this suddenly became a room with a view.”
I pivot in my seat. There’s a boy. An oh-my-god-gorgeous boy. He takes long strides in a pair of faded blue Converse, laces untied—and not uniform-sanctioned—to the front of the room, where he hands Mr. Conway a yellow slip of paper.
The sight of him makes me asthmatic. In a good way I didn’t know was possible. There’s a distinct tightening of the chest, like I’m battling the effects of a peanut allergy.
“Sorry I’m late. Some confusion at the front office,” he says. Mr. Conway slides his reading glasses up to the bridge of his nose.
“Welcome, Mr.…” Conway holds the slip closer.
“Zin,” he offers. “Levi Zin, sir.”
Thick dark eyebrows frame his almond-shaped eyes, half-covered by slick black hair that hangs low over his forehead. He’s clinging to an end-of-summer tan that hints at liquid sunshine and honey dripping off the comb. A damp polo sticks to his chest. I find myself wanting him to look at me so that I can grasp the whole picture at once. I have an idea that the full effect can’t live up to the bits and pieces I’ve been cobbling together through sideways glimpses.
I lean forward on my elbows, hoping that I’m not too obvious, but not willing to be more discreet. One look, I tell him with my mind. A stray, stupid thought I’m sure I wouldn’t have if I wasn’t so completely bored in class, but for now, it feels like a game. Notice me, I tell him.
“Please, take a seat. We’re on section five.” Mr. Conway gestures to an empty seat in the front row.
Levi turns, slipping his backpack off one shoulder. For a split second our eyes meet, and in that moment it’s like two streaks of lightning converge in the sky. My heart leaps out of my throat and firmly attaches itself to him and I have a fleeting sensation that he read my mind.
He noticed.
“I heard he’s dreamy,” says Brynn, mouth stuffed full of Cool Ranch Doritos.
It’s just Brynn, Henry, and me at lunch today since Lydia’s switched over to her other group. It’s stopped raining for a second, which means the cafeteria is only half as crowded as usual. I suppose we should be taking advantage of the “nice” weather in the quadrangle, too, only I guess I’m not as keen as the rest of my class to walk around the rest of the day with the back of my khakis soaked through. After all, it’s still Seattle. Just because it’s not raining doesn’t mean it’s not wet.
“Okay, hold up. Do people say ‘dreamy’ anymore?” I ask while Henry makes a big show of pretending to beat his skull against the lunch table. “Drama. Queen.” I poke him in the shoulder. “Cut it out before your forehead smells like ketchup and cheese fries.”
“They do when they’re talking about Levi Zin,” says Brynn, arching her eyebrows. “He’s brought dreamy back.”
Zin. Levi Zin. I roll the name over on my tongue. It has a nice ring to it. “He’s okay,” I say, staring down at the table and suddenly having an I-saw-him-first moment.
<
br /> Brynn narrows her eyes. “You little liar!” She chucks a Dorito that I manage to bat away. “You totally want to jump his bones, don’t you?”
“Brynn, please.” I stuff a bite of peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich in my mouth to avoid answering her question..
She lifts one pierced eyebrow and crunches through another chip. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
The back of my neck is on fire. It’s not as if Levi would be a bad first choice.
“You’re totally picturing it in your head.” I jump when I realize she’s been staring at me.
“Am not.” I frown while at the same time deliberately avoiding eye contact with Henry. “Why do you have to”—I want to say be so crude but instead say—“make such a big deal about it?”
She rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t. If I were trying to make a big deal out of it, I would have said you want to—”
But before she can finish Henry jumps in. “Enough! It’s not like Channing Tatum came to school. Can we please talk about something else? Please? Something of mutual interest, maybe?”
“Touchy, touchy,” Brynn chides. “Jealous much?”
“Please. I’m just not quite as interested in the state of Levi’s pectorals as you seem to be.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t sit with a bunch of girls at lunch all the time. Ever think of that?” counters Brynn.
Henry rolls his eyes. The truth is that Henry has a bunch of guy friends, but all of them have the lunch period before us, so he’s stuck. Except I think that he actually likes it. Either that or he likes me.
I feel my face go white. Well, first white. Then there is the burning rush of what must be bright, fluorescent pink as my neck and ears feel as if they’ve been shoved inside a microwave.
“Shit, Stella. What? You look like you’re about to hurl.” Brynn looks at me and then follows my gaze up to none other than Levi-of-the-amazing-pectorals Zin. And he’s standing right beside the empty lunch table next to ours with a lunch tray full of mini-carton milk, pizza, and two apples, smiling at us. “Oh, crap,” says Brynn, not in a whisper.
I force my face into something I sincerely hope captures a nonchalant-hipster-meets-Parisian-snob vibe, although I’m stuck with a sneaking suspicion that I look as soppy as I feel. His beautiful brown eyes narrow to a squint. He’s squinting at me and I’m thinking, What does that mean?…until it dawns on me that there’s no way it can be good when a guy squints at you, can there? This runs through my head all the while we’re locked in a grin-off until finally, he sits down at the other table and opens up his carton of milk. I let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Um, what was that?” Brynn asks in a hushed voice, leaning over on her elbows.
“What do you mean, what was that?” I snap. “I had to cover for your big mouth.” I can’t shake the sense that looking at Levi brings on a very specific feeling of déjà vu.
Brynn chances a glance in Levi’s direction. “Well, you looked like a snaggletoothed tiger.”
Henry laughs and I glare at him. “Sorry.” He wipes tears from his eyes. “Sorry.” Henry sniffles. “I mean, you did, a little.”
“Shut. Up,” I giggle, feeling flushed with embarrassment all over again. “And it’s saber-toothed tiger, you idiots.”
“Ohhh.” Brynn holds her palms up like she’s scared. “Somebody’s feeling feisty.”
“It’s your fault.” I glare at her, only half-jokingly.
“Hey, I’m not the spazoid.”
I rest my chin on my fist.
“It wasn’t that bad,” adds Henry. “And also, who cares what he thinks?” Probably every girl in the senior class, I could tell him, but that would be like telling a five-year-old not to believe in Santa Claus.
“I’ve heard he’s a trust-fund kid,” Brynn says, making me feel as though the entire school had been involved in a game of telephone.
“You know, he can probably hear you,” I hiss. But in truth, he probably doesn’t, because Tess and Caroline are on their way over to his table right now in that hip-swinging way that screams Look at me, and, to my deep disappointment, it seems to be totally, completely working.
“Incoming,” says Brynn.
Since last period, Tess has undergone a miraculous makeover. The lingering signs of her hangover have been replaced by pink lips, sparkly blush, and a fresh layer of gold-flecked eye shadow. At the next table over, she’s so close to me I can smell the floral perfume wafting off her skin.
From where I’m sitting, I can only hear Tess and Caroline clearly. They exchange pleasantries, with Tess acting like she’s the cruise ship director of the school.
“Ten bucks one of them sleeps with him before the end of the week.” Brynn pops another Dorito into her mouth and licks the orange dust off her fingers.
I whip my head around. “What? Why? Why would you say that?”
She jerks her chin back. “Um, have you seen the welcoming committee over there? Here’s your student-body handbook, a plate of fresh-baked cookies, and a box of condoms.”
“My money’s on Tess,” Henry says.
I feel a spike in my temperature. “Well, you would know.”
Henry freezes mid-bite into a cheeseburger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I’d never asked whether Henry slept with Tess when they were dating and he’d never volunteered it, so if I had to guess, it would be a firm yes, that totally happened. And now the sight of her falling over Levi is enough to make me need a Xanax.
Maybe the better question is, Why do I care so much? It was almost imperceptible, something I could only notice in the absence of a thing rather than in its presence, but as soon as Levi sat near us, I felt a weight lifting from my chest.
The constant ache that has been gnawing at me for weeks slipped away and I felt a peace in my bones that had gone missing.
Henry and Brynn are talking, but I’m barely listening. I nod. Henry’s annoyed with me. I try to care, but is it just me or is Levi sneaking glances this way?
“Why don’t you just pee on him, Stella? That would be less obvious.”
“Shut. Up,” I say, and without meaning to, I slam my fist on the table. I should apologize, but I still can’t focus enough to do it.
Brynn slides her books off the table into her bag. “Come on, Henry. Stella’s clearly having some issues of the feminine variety.”
I scowl at her with no worthy comeback. Henry pushes his chair back and fixes me with a look that seems more pitying than angry. “Stella, we’re all willing to give you a bit of a pass, but—”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t give me a free pass. I’m fine.” Then, in a lower voice. “Look, I’m sorry. Brynn, are we still on for after school?”
She peers down her nose at me. “Yeah, just leave the attitude at home, where it belongs, okay?”
I attempt a feeble smile, but when I return my attention to Levi, certain that now that I’m alone, he’ll perhaps venture a smile or a wave or come over to chat, I see that he’s already following Tess out the door. My heart butts painfully against my rib cage in protest.
Whoever said child labor was banned in the first world forgot to tell my parents.
I hoist a top-of-the-line stroller, aka baby tank, out the side of my Jetta. The wheel crashes into my big toe and I hop around the parking lot on one foot. “Ouch! Jesus Christ!”
Elsie giggles and slaps her hands on the sides of her car seat. “Uh-oh!”
I scowl at her through the open window.
“If you spit up on my leather, I swear I’ll leave you here to rot,” I warn my sister, who throws her sippy cup onto the car floor in response.
I study the stroller. Who are these designed for, rocket scientists? Peering underneath the carriage, I think I spot the problem and kick at its back to try to unlock the folding mechanism. Eventually, it comes loose and the stroller snaps open.
“You make that look so easy,” comes a sarcastic voice from behind me. “
Didn’t know you were bringing a friend.”
I wipe my forehead, pushing the stroller around to the other side of the car. Brynn sips a Frappuccino.
“My parents have an interview at some fancy preschool they’re trying to get Elsie on the waiting list for. Good thing they have a free babysitter on speed dial.” I unhook Elsie from her car seat and straddle her over my hip. She’s sporting a newly laundered ladybug dress, given that she managed to slobber all over the jumper Mom had her in beforehand. Elsie’s the reason we’re running late. Brynn better keep this quick.
Brynn shudders. “Thank God my parents never get it on anymore.”
I lower Elsie into the stroller. “I’m sure you’re all the birth control they need.”
The streets are crowded as Brynn and I start to trudge up the steep hill toward the giant golden hog statue with red lettering that reads PIKE PLACE MARKET. A salty breeze carries the smell of the ocean off Elliott Bay.
“You know where we’re going?” I ask. The wheels of the stroller bounce off burgundy bricks.
“We have to make a stop here every year before my mom’s birthday. She goes crazy for these pistachio macarons at Le Panier. Seriously, it’s like soccer mom crack.” Brynn smirks.
Poor Mrs. McDaniel. She’s got all the components of a grade-A soccer mom. The cream cable-knit, the pearls, the perfectly symmetrical orange slices. Only problem? Her daughter is Brynn.
I chase after Brynn, who’s walking too fast. A group of tourists snap photos outside the market, and all around, vendors dart in and out of the covered arcades selling fresh produce, pencil sketches, and I ♥ SEATTLE T-shirts. We thread our way through the crowd and I try not to mow over the backs of anyone’s heels with the Elsie Mobile.
“One year my dad couldn’t get off work in time to get them and, no joke, she almost bit his entire head off,” Brynn explains.
“Well, she didn’t have a macaron,” I point out.
“Apparently, the South Beach Diet has a very narrow exception for small, ridiculous-looking cookies.”
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