by Amy Clipston
He paused. “Vanessa keeps insisting to me that Dad will show up one day out of the blue with hugs, kisses, and lots of money. She constantly searches the Internet, convinced she’ll find him through one of those social-network pages. I try to tell her that if he cared, he’d be here, but she won’t accept reality. She just can’t understand why a father would walk away from his kids. I don’t get it either, but I’m tired of making excuses for him. It’s been twelve years. The man has moved on and forgotten us.”
I searched for something to say. “Taylor, I’m so sorry.”
“That’s life.” He nodded toward my house. “Some people have families with two parents who love them. But some of us only have one parent who works her fingers to the bone to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads. I’m just thankful for my family, as broken as it is. And I’m determined to protect both my mother and my sister.”
“Taylor, please just hear me out.” I raised my hands. “Maybe cheerleading can bring some joy to your sister’s life. If you let me train her, I guarantee you she’ll blow away the judges at tryouts.”
Taylor shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’ve been trying to talk her into trying band. I told her I’ll even sell a few things to make enough money to buy her a used clarinet.”
“Fine.” My shoulders sagged with defeat. I knew it was time to drop it.
He pointed at the book. “Are you going to start reading it tonight?”
I looked down at the novel. “I have to finish the other one first, but I’m almost done with it. It’s really good.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He picked up his helmet. “I better go.”
“Thanks again for the book and for returning my phone.”
“You’re welcome.” He straddled the motorcycle, and I couldn’t help admiring how he looked on it. He lifted the helmet and then stopped. “I have a question.”
“What?”
“When did you and Brett break up?”
“Valentine’s Day.”
“Yikes.” Taylor grimaced. “Did you break up with him?”
“Not exactly.” A breeze caught my hair, and I pushed it back from my face. “He initiated the breakup, and I agreed to it.”
Taylor shook his head. “Nice guy. You know, you can live in a neighborhood like this, but it doesn’t mean you have class. See you at school.” He slipped the helmet on and then brought the motorcycle to life.
I waved as he sped down the driveway. As he drove away, I felt as if I finally knew Taylor at a deeper level. He had let me see past his hard exterior, and now I understood why he seemed to have a chip on his shoulder. I was getting to know the real Taylor Martinez, and I felt as if we were truly becoming friends. He listened to me, and I had a feeling he understood me.
Another cool breeze whipped through me, and I shivered as I headed back into the house. My mother was waiting for me in the foyer. She studied me, and I felt my body tense.
“You were outside with that Taylor boy for quite a while, Whitney.” Her tone was accusing, and I wasn’t in the mood to defend my every move to her.
“He brought me my phone. I’d left it in the library after our tutoring session.” I held up the phone. “It’s no big deal, Mom,” I snapped. “We were just talking about school.”
“What’s that?” She pointed toward the bag.
“He brought me a book I was looking for. Turns out we like the same author.” I opened the bag, and she examined the contents. “Like I said, it’s no big deal, Mom.”
“I thought he was your calculus tutor. Do you have a book club while you learn calculus?”
“No, Mom. He mentioned he works at the mall, and I asked him if he’d seen the new book by my favorite author. That’s it.” I couldn’t admit I’d snuck out to the bookstore while I was grounded. If she knew the truth, I’d be grounded again.
“Hmm.” Mom crossed her arms. “I don’t like you spending time with that boy. He’s not a good influence.”
“Why?” I challenged her. “Is it because he lives in Great Oaks? I already told you Uncle Brad and Emily live down the street from him. They’re still welcome here, right? What’s the difference if Taylor visits?”
“Whitney, you know what I mean. He’s not like your other friends.”
“Don’t compare him to Brett, Mom. Taylor’s a better person than Brett. And he’s smart. Emily told me she heard Taylor is in the running to be the valedictorian. He got a full scholarship to U. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“You watch your tone, young lady. Did your new friend teach you how to talk back to me?” My mother glowered. “I don’t want you socializing with that boy. Do you understand?” She wagged a finger at me. “You don’t need to get mixed up with a boy like that. You need to concentrate on your grades right now.”
I angled my chin. “Fine. I’ll only talk to Taylor when we’re discussing calculus.”
“Don’t be sarcastic. Now go to your room and finish your homework.” She pointed toward the stairs. “Go on.”
I climbed the stairs and made my way down the hallway to my room. I sat on the bed and plugged my phone into the charger by the nightstand before pulling out the book Taylor had given me. I ran my hand over the cover while thinking about him. Taylor was a complicated guy. He was handsome, even better looking than Brett, but he also had depth. I considered everything I had learned about him tonight. He deeply loved his mother and sister and would go to the ends of the earth to protect them. This fascinated me. I really enjoyed talking to him and getting to know him better. It was refreshing to have a friend who wanted to talk about something other than fashion and the next party. I had a sneaking suspicion Taylor and I would have more deep conversations like that in the future, and I looked forward to talking to him again. For once, I felt as if I had a friend who was a boy and not a friend who seemed to be a potential boyfriend.
My mind conjured up the image of Taylor straddling his motorcycle while pulling on his helmet, and an excitement hummed through me. Was I developing a crush on Taylor Martinez? How could I possibly even consider dating him? Since he was convinced cheerleaders and athletes were elitist, he’d never consider me.
Suddenly an idea popped into my head like a humongous light bulb: dating Taylor Martinez would drive my mother to the brink of distraction. She’d never stand for the idea of her perfect daughter dating a boy from the other side of town. Pursuing Taylor Martinez was the perfect way to rebel against my mother and show her that she couldn’t run my life.
chapter seven
Friday morning I walked down the school hallway flanked by Tiffany and Kristin as we discussed our weekend plans. When I spotted Taylor up ahead, I quickened my steps. “Taylor!”
“Whitney, what are you doing?” Tiffany hissed.
“Taylor!” I rushed toward him. “Taylor, wait!”
Taylor spun and faced me. “Hey. What’s up?”
“I finished that book by Brantley Morgan last night. I was up until almost two reading. I couldn’t put it down.”
“And …?” He raised his eyebrows. “What did you think?”
“Oh my goodness.” I clapped my hands together. “I was so surprised.”
Taylor laughed. “That was a good mystery.”
“Yes, it was.” I glanced behind me and found my friends watching me. “I just wanted to thank you for recommending it.”
“You’re welcome. Are you going to start the Becker book today?”
“Yes. I can’t wait.”
“Awesome. Let me know if you like it.”
“Okay.” I waved. “I’ll see you later.”
“Okay.” He nodded and then continued down the hall.
I moved to my friends, and they both stared at me as if I were crazy.
Tiffany wrinkled her nose. “What are you doing?”
“I was talking to Taylor.” I shrugged. “What’s the big deal? Aren’t we allowed to talk to people at school?”
“You know that could r
uin your reputation.” Kristin’s expression was serious. “Brett was asking about you yesterday in English class, and I think he still likes you. If he sees you talking to Taylor, you could jeopardize your chance of getting back together with him.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Please, Kristin. I’m not interested in Brett, and I can talk to whomever I choose. Taylor is nice, and he likes the same books I do. I don’t mind talking to him. We have a lot in common. You’d be really surprised.”
“I thought you were doing a project with him.” Tiffany tilted her head. “Why are you talking about books and stuff if you’re only doing a project with him?”
“I am doing a project with him, but we like to talk about other things too. We can talk about stuff other than projects. I’ve seen you talk to people in class before, and it wasn’t only about schoolwork.” I pointed toward the line of classrooms. “We have to go, or we’re going to be late.”
Tiffany reached her classroom and waved before entering it.
As Kristin and I continued toward our homeroom, she lowered her voice. “I’m worried about you, Whitney. You’re not acting like yourself.”
“Maybe I’m trying to figure out who I am.”
She stopped walking and studied me. “What do you mean? We all know who you are. You’re Whitney Richards. You’re the captain of the cheerleading squad, you have a 4.0, and you’re going to Kentwood University, one of the most prestigious schools on the East Coast.”
I shook my head. “I don’t have a 4.0 anymore, and I don’t want to go to Kentwood. I’m tired of being told who I’m supposed to be.”
Kristin took my arm and yanked me over into a corner away from the hallway traffic. “What are you saying?”
I knew it was time to tell Kristin the truth, the whole truth, about Taylor. “Taylor isn’t my partner on a project. He’s my calculus tutor.”
“What?” Kristin started to laugh and then stopped. “You’re serious.”
“Yes. I got a D on a test, and my mom went ballistic. She called Mrs. Jenkins and insisted I get a tutor.” I watched the other students scurry to class like lab rats in a maze.
“I’m sure you’ll get an A by the end of the semester. Don’t worry about it.” Her expression clouded. “But don’t forget, Taylor is only your tutor. Yes, he’s hot, and yes, he drives a motorcycle. But he’s not your type, Whitney. You belong with someone like Brett. Taylor is too quiet and socially backward. He’s totally standoffish, and he seems angry all the time. It’s like he doesn’t want to be one of the crowd. He has major issues. I bet he’s had abandonment issues since his dad left him. We talked about that in psychology class once.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she continued on.
“That’s enough about Taylor. Let’s talk about you. You’ll do great at Kentwood,” she continued. “I wish I could’ve gotten in there, but I didn’t have the grades. I’m going to have to go to my backup, since I couldn’t get into my number-one choice. You’re so lucky!”
“No, I’m not.” I shook my head. “My mom is pressuring me to go to Kentwood, but I’m not sure it’s what I really want. The University has an awesome teaching program. I was looking it up the other day, and I saw that some of the teachers who have won state awards have gone there. I really think I want to be a teacher, so why wouldn’t I go to University instead?”
Kristin’s smile was condescending. “You just have senioritis. You’re ready to graduate but scared to leave home. You’ll be fine. You’ll get to Kentwood and love it. It’ll all work out.”
The bell rang, and we both started down the hall. I contemplated her comments, and frustration surged through me. I had tried to open up to Kristin and share my honest feelings, and all she did was put down Taylor and then wave off my concerns by accusing me of having senioritis. It seemed as if Taylor was the only friend I had who would listen to me.
As I slipped into my desk chair, I scowled. I felt as if I was losing my friends, the ones I had called my best friends since elementary school. I felt as if I was floating all alone.
But I wasn’t alone. I still had Taylor, and I felt as if he understood me better than my friends who’d known me most of my life. He had listened to me when I opened up to him, and he didn’t wave off my worries and call them a bad case of senioritis.
“So, I was thinking …” I began as I sat across from Taylor during our weekly tutoring session.
“Uh-oh.” Taylor leaned back in his chair and eyed me with suspicion. “This can’t be good.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.” I ran my fingernail over the smooth wooden table, creating figure eights while I spoke. “I’ve been thinking about Vanessa.” I paused, awaiting a protest, but he continued to watch me. “I was thinking maybe trying out for cheerleading would boost her confidence and help her deal with your father’s rejection.”
I held my breath, hoping he’d give me a chance to prove I could make a positive impact in Vanessa’s life. I’d prayed about Vanessa, and I kept coming up with the same answer—I could show Taylor that being a part of the cheerleading squad could be a positive experience for his sister.
“I don’t know.” He rested his elbows on the table and blew out a puff of air. “I have a bad feeling.”
“Please? Please, Taylor? I promise I won’t break your sister’s heart.” I gave him my best puppy-dog eyes.
To my surprise, Taylor laughed. “How can I possibly say no to that face?”
Though I didn’t want to risk ending the good moment we were having, I couldn’t help but ask, “What does your mom think about Vanessa’s wanting to be on the cheerleading squad?”
“Mom feels bad she can’t afford the recreation league. Vanessa has been begging to join the rec team for years.”
“Oh. That’s a shame.”
“I know, but hey, that’s life, right?” He drummed the table and glanced down at the homework assignment we’d been discussing.
“Why don’t you tell your mom about my idea and ask her what she thinks? Then you can text me tonight and let me know. Does that sound good?”
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s cool.”
“Great.” I held out my hand. “Where’s your phone?”
“Why?”
“I need to program my number in so that you can text me, silly.”
“Oh. Right.” He unlocked his phone before handing it to me, and I programmed in my number.
“Now send me a text.”
He pushed a few buttons and my phone chimed with a text that read “Hi.” I programmed his number.
“Now I expect you to talk to your mom and ask her if I can start training Vanessa tomorrow. If you don’t text me, I will come over to your house and ask your mom myself.”
“Somehow I know you’ll keep your word.”
“You bet I will. And remember—I know where you live.” I tapped my fingers on the table. “You haven’t asked me if I started the Becker book.”
We launched into a conversation about the book, and soon the bell rang announcing the end of the period.
Taylor looked surprised. “You do realize we never finished talking about your homework.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure I’ll get it.” I packed up my books. “Talk to you later.”
“Yeah. You will.” He slung his backpack onto his shoulder and then followed me into the library.
We moved through the library side by side, and I couldn’t stop smiling. Not only was I on the road to convincing Taylor I wasn’t a snob, but I could possibly help his sister. And to make it even better, I was going to defy my mother along the way. Things were looking up!
As we stepped into the hallway, Taylor touched my arm. “I’ll see you later. I have to work tonight, so it might be late when I text you.”
“Sounds good.” I grinned up at him. “Sell lots of books.”
Taylor saluted me. “I’ll try.” He turned and almost walked right into Brett, who glared at him.
“Watch where you’re going,
Martinez.” Brett nearly barked the words at Taylor, and I gritted my teeth.
“I think you should do the same,” Taylor retorted and then continued down the hall.
“Whitney.” Brett waved an arm at me. “Wait.”
I swallowed a groan and quickened my steps. “I have to get to class.”
“You have a few minutes.” Brett caught up with me and grabbed my arm. “I want to talk to you.”
“I have nothing to say to you.” I yanked my arm back and kept walking.
“Come on, Whitney. You know I care about you.”
I stopped in my tracks and spun toward him. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Brett.” I lowered my voice in the hopes of not attracting attention. “You broke up with me on Valentine’s Day. That was pretty cold.”
“But you agreed we should break up!”
“That’s not the point. I have nothing to say to you. It’s over.” I started down the hall and prayed Brett would disappear.
“I know you’re only using Taylor to make me jealous.” Brett yelled the words.
I cringed, wishing I could crawl into a hole to avoid the eyes staring at me. I marched over to Brett, grabbed his hand, and yanked him into a nearby corner. “Don’t you ever embarrass me like that again. I’m not using Taylor, and I don’t want to make you jealous. I just want you to leave me alone.”
“No, you don’t.” Brett’s smile was wry. “You want me back, and I want you back too. Go out with me, Whitney. I’ll treat you better this time. I’ll take you to romantic restaurants and buy you teddy bears and jewelry. That’s what every girl wants, right? I was just too dense to realize it. I know better now.”
I regarded him with disbelief. “Are you kidding me? It’s too late, Brett. I’m not interested.”
“Why?” Brett gestured widely, almost knocking over a freshman who walked by. “Is it because of that loser, Taylor Martinez?”
I moved closer to Brett. “Taylor isn’t a loser. In fact, you couldn’t hold a candle to him as a person.”
“Oh, really?” Brett snorted. “We’ll see about that. You’ll want me back, Whitney. You’ll see.”