“I should get going. I’ll see you around.”
I race out of there before he can give me more advice about Garret. I don’t trust Decker. He could easily be doing Garret’s dirty work, although I’m not sure how he knew he’d run into me in the Student Services building. It doesn’t matter. I still don’t trust him.
At dinner, Harper is disappointed that I show up alone and not with the “man candy” she requested. The girls she invited to eat with us are on her tennis team and live in a different residence hall. I wish they lived on our floor. They’re way better than the girls Harper and I have to live with every day. I’ve now introduced myself to almost every girl on our floor and Harper is the only one who seems interested in being friends.
Later that night I talk to Ryan and Frank. They both seem to be getting along better. I don’t know what happened to make them stop fighting and I don’t ask. Ryan found a temp job at a hospital lab. It has flexible hours so he’s able to take his dad to doctor’s appointments. Frank doesn’t say much on the call. And when he does talk, he sounds tired. He says he feels okay, but I’m sure if he didn’t, he wouldn’t tell me.
My Thursday class schedule is easier than Wednesday’s because I only have two classes. Thursday morning is calculus, which doesn’t sound easy but for me it is. I’ve always done well in math. I like the order and structure of it. I like that it makes sense and that each problem has a clear answer.
In the afternoon I have English. I arrive on time, but when I get there almost every seat is taken and I’m stuck sitting in the last row. It’s not like I wanted the first row, but something in the middle would’ve been nice.
I reach down to pull my laptop out of my backpack and my pens fall out all over the floor. I tend to pack a lot of pens, just in case.
“I’ll get them,” a voice says. I look over and see Garret picking up my pens. “Here.” He hands them to me, then takes the only seat left, which is right next to mine.
“So you’re in this class?” I stuff the pens in the front pouch of my backpack.
“That’s why I’m here,” he says staring straight ahead.
He’s being really cold. If he wants me to forgive him, he could be a little nicer.
“Welcome, everyone, to freshman English. I’m Professor Hawkins.” A gray-haired wiry man wearing khaki pants, a plaid dress shirt, and a navy tie stands at the front of the class, chalk stains on his hand from writing his name on the board. “I expect your full attention in this class and that means no texting, no emailing, no note passing, and no talking unless you are asked to speak.”
As the professor talks, I can’t help but glance over at Garret. Harper’s right. He’s super hot. Definite man candy as she would say. An image of us back in the pool pops in my head. His wet lips on mine. His nearly naked muscular body holding me close. His hand on my . . .
I feel a foot lightly kicking mine from the side.
“Jade? Jade Taylor?” The professor is calling my name.
I raise my hand. “Yes. Sorry, I’m here.” The professor continues to read off names. “Thanks.” I whisper to Garret, owner of the foot who woke me from my daydream.
He gives me a brief smile, then focuses on the front of the room again.
At the end of class, the professor hands out notebooks to each of us. “These are your journals. I expect you to write something in them at least three times a week, or daily for you overachievers. You can write anything you want, but it must fill half the page or more. In the past, some students have written about their reaction to a movie, song, or even a simple quote. It’s a free flowing writing exercise so write about whatever you want but I still expect proper grammar and punctuation. This is English class after all.”
“Are you grading these?” someone up front asks.
“You will get points for completing it and those points will go toward your final grade. Also you will not be turning these in until the last class of the semester. I will not be reading each page but I will flip through to make sure you did the assignment.”
He finally passes the notebooks to the last row. “Inside your notebooks, you will find a list of your classmates. You have each been paired with someone. This person is expected to read your journal each week and add a short comment after each post offering suggestions or just general thoughts. And you will do the same in their journal.” He returns to the front of the room. “You should begin writing in these this week. That’s it for today. I’ll see you all next Tuesday.”
Inside the notebook is a loose sheet of paper with a list of names on it. I find my name and who is listed next to it? Garret Kensington.
13
“Guess we’re partners,” Garret says as he puts his laptop in his bag.
“Did you do this?” I hold the piece of paper up.
“Do what?”
“Did you tell him to make us partners?”
Garret shakes his head. “No, Jade. I would never force you to read my stupid English journal.” He walks out.
“Hold on.” I follow him outside. “So what’s the plan? Do you want to exchange notebooks on a certain day or how do you want to do this?”
He stops for a moment. “Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”
I catch a whiff of his cologne as the breeze blows. He smells as good as he looks. “Maybe we could meet on Saturday and go over them.”
“You want to meet? I thought you just wanted to exchange them.”
He seems totally confused by my request. I’m confused by it, too. I was so mad at him the other day, but I’m having a really hard time staying mad at him. I don’t know if it’s because it’s been a couple days since our fight, or if it’s because of what Decker said, or if his hotness is affecting my judgment. Whatever the reason is, I want to talk to him again, even if it’s just about our English assignment.
“I think we should meet,” I say. “That way if we have questions, we don’t have to email or call each other. Could you meet on Saturday?”
“Yeah, but it has to be in the morning. I’ll be gone in the afternoon and won’t be back until Sunday.”
“Then let’s say 9. Stop by my room and we’ll go outside.”
“That’s kind of early for a Saturday, but okay.” He walks off.
If I wasn’t so stubborn I would stop him from leaving and demand that we talk right now. I want things to go back to the way they were before all this happened. I want to hear how his classes are going and I want to tell him about mine. I want us to go on another run and have dinner together. I want us to be friends, just like he wanted. And yet I refuse to let it happen. I’m supposed to be punishing him for lying, but I feel like I’m punishing myself.
On Friday, as I’m walking back from my last class of the day, I realize how much better I feel than last Friday when I arrived. I’m way more comfortable with the campus, I’ve mapped out a few different running routes, and I’m quickly learning what foods to avoid in the dining hall.
I still haven’t made any friends other than Harper. I’m starting to think it’s too late now. People are already pairing off and forming cliques, just like in high school.
I haven’t seen Garret since English class. He’s just one floor above me and yet we never run into each other. I sent his parents a note thanking them for dinner. I wouldn’t have even thought to do that, but Harper said it was a must, especially for people like the Kensingtons who appreciate good social etiquette.
After dinner I stay in my room and do homework feeling like a total loser. My entire floor is quiet and empty. I always thought people partied in their dorm rooms, but they don’t here at Moorhurst. Everyone, including Harper, goes off campus to a house party somewhere.
Part of me wishes I could just go out like everyone else. But I’m too afraid of what could happen. I’m afraid I’ll take a drink and that one drink will turn into another and another after that. And before I know it, I’ll be my mother.
I hate that my mom still controls me like this. I just want
to be normal. Go to parties. Date. And not worry so much about school. But I can’t. I want to be different from her. I have to be. And that means staying away from the temptations that made her the person I hated for all those years. The person I still hate even though she’s dead.
Saturday morning I wake up feeling so nervous about meeting with Garret that I can’t even eat breakfast. I have no idea what to say to him. My anger toward him is long gone, but he still lied to me and I never got a good answer why.
I take a quick shower and put on a tank top and shorts. The summer heat has returned and it feels like the middle of July.
Garret knocks on my door right at 9. He’s wearing khaki shorts and a white t-shirt that highlights his tan skin and muscular arms. He hasn’t shaved yet and although I normally like a clean shave on a guy, I find the light layer of stubble on his face extremely sexy. I’m staring again. I don’t mean to, but damn he’s hot. It’s very distracting.
“Do you still want to go outside?” he asks. “I don’t mind the heat, but if you do we can stay here.”
He waits for me to answer. The silence wakes me from my distracted state. “Um, no. Let’s go outside. I have an old blanket to sit on.”
We find a spot on the edge of campus near the track. I didn’t want to be in the open quad by our dorms where people would keep walking past. I’m not sure where this conversation will go and I don’t want to be interrupted.
I set the blanket up under a big shade tree. There’s a soft breeze that makes the heat more tolerable.
“So we just exchange books and make our notes, right?” he asks.
“Yeah. I only made one entry so far.”
“Me too.” He hands me his notebook and I give him mine.
As soon as I see my notebook in his hands, I tense up and my heart starts beating faster. I quickly regret what I’ve done and I consider grabbing the notebook back, but he’s already started reading it.
I look down at Garret’s notebook and open it to the first page. He has nice handwriting. Way better than mine. I start reading.
Sept. 12. I met a girl last week who is the most interesting person I’ve ever met. I helped her move in and ever since then, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. The next day I saw her out on the track. She started insulting me right away and for some reason I didn’t mind it. I asked the girl to lunch that day, and after lunch I asked her to dinner because I didn’t get enough of her at lunch. Later we went to a party. I’ve never left a party sober, but that night I did. Because of her. It felt good leaving with my mind still intact, still able to walk straight. I wasn’t ready to let her go, so I took her for ice cream. I spent the whole day with this girl and then at night, I lay awake thinking about her, wanting to see her again.
I should have told her who I was on that first day we met. But I didn’t. I should have told her the next day, or the day after that. But I didn’t because I didn’t want anything to change between us. Every moment with her was so real and so perfect. I didn’t want it to end. But now it has. And I miss her. All I can say is that I’m sorry. But I know sometimes that’s just not enough.
As I’m reading it, I feel wetness in the corners of my eyes. I turn my back to Garret so he won’t notice the affect his English assignment is having on me. I read it again, mainly because I don’t believe it. Nobody has ever expressed feelings for me like that. And I’m not sure I trust that they’re real.
Garret is quiet and I wonder what he’s thinking after reading my notebook. This is what I wrote.
I don’t always understand people. Well, truthfully, I don’t understand them because I don’t trust them. I always assume people are lying because nobody wants to hear the truth. They say they do, but they really don’t. But sometimes people need to hear the truth, even if they won’t like it.
I met someone the other day. And after knowing him just a short while, I felt like I understood him. And that he understood me. I can’t explain what this feels like exactly. There aren’t really words to describe it. But I liked the feeling because for the first time in my life I felt like I made a real connection with someone. I started to trust this person, which doesn’t make sense because I’ve only trusted two people in my entire life. But then I found out that he lied to me and I suddenly felt like I couldn’t trust him or anyone ever again. But I want to be able to trust people, especially him. So I wish this person would tell me why he lied so I could trust him again. And so I could understand him again. And so that maybe we could be friends.
I turn back around to face him. Garret speaks first, holding up my notebook. “It’s good. A few run-on sentences but other than that, I like it.”
My heart rate returns to normal now that’s he read it. I’ve completely exposed myself on paper and I can’t take it back now.
“I like yours, too. It sounds like you really like this girl, whoever she is. But she sounds like too much work. You should just forget her and move on.”
“I don’t want to forget her. Or move on.” He sets my notebook down. “I want to get to know her.”
I put his notebook aside and look down at the blanket. “Maybe she doesn’t want to get to know you.” I don’t know why I just said that to him. It’s not at all true.
“Well, maybe you could talk to her and get her to change her mind. Convince her to hang out with me again. Maybe go on a run or watch a movie.”
“I might be able to convince her to do that.” My finger traces the circular pattern in the blanket which helps keep my emotions in check. “But I think she needs to hear what’s really going on with you first. And why you lied.”
Garret puts his hand around my wrist just as I start tracing the circles on a new section of the blanket. I look up at him and he releases my wrist and slips his hand into mine.
“Jade, I’m sorry. And I’m telling you again that I didn’t have some hidden agenda. I just didn’t want you judging me before you knew me. I assumed if you heard my name, you’d think I was just another spoiled trust fund kid and want nothing to do with me.”
My hand tenses up as I consider yanking it away from him. He tightens his grip and I relax it again. I don’t want him to let go of me and yet I fight him. And somehow he knows that and holds on. How does he understand me like that?
“You know about my mom, Garret. And I didn’t want anyone here to know. I was counting on getting a fresh start and then I find out the person I want to hide my past from the most is the one who knows everything about it.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. You’re mad at me because I didn’t tell you about my family, but you didn’t want me to know anything about your family.”
“Because my family consisted of my mom. And she was crazy and then she killed herself. So, yeah, I really don’t want people knowing about my past. But you have no excuse. There’s no reason for you to hide the fact that you’re a Kensington.”
“Are you kidding? There’s a million reasons why I’d want to hide that from someone.” He lightly rubs the top of my hand with his thumb. That tiny movement makes my heart beat faster again. “I really don’t know that much about your past, Jade. My dad told me that your mom had problems with alcohol and drugs. That’s it.”
“There’s not much else to tell.”
“What about your father? Do you ever see him?”
“I’m the product of a one night stand. He left that night and never came back.” As I say it I realize that’s the first time I’ve ever said that to anyone. I used to tell people at school that my parents were divorced and my dad lived overseas. “So what other stuff do I need to know about your family? Do they really have all these dark secrets?”
He lets go of my hand and sits back. “Yes. But I can’t tell you what those are. I’m sure I don’t even know half of them.”
“Well, what did you mean when you said they had rules? What are the rules?”
“In families like mine, it’s all about appearances and connections and being seen with the right people.” He
lies down on the blanket and stares up into the tree as the filtered light shines through. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but—I’ve never had a real friend.”
“What do you mean?” I lie down next to him, propped up on my elbow.
My dad’s picked my friends for as long as I can remember. Like Blake. I hate the guy but his dad is Connecticut’s attorney general and has a lot of connections that could be useful to my family or the company.”
“So your dad’s forcing you to be friends with that jerk?”
“That’s how it works. Sometimes you get lucky and actually like the person. I like Decker, even though my dad made us be friends back in ninth grade.”
“You’re saying that your dad has picked every one of your friends?”
“Yes, and that’s why I didn’t want my family to know that we’re friends. Well, I guess that’s still up in the air until you decide. But I didn’t want them interfering if we did become friends. Or more than friends.”
“What are you saying? You can’t pick your dates either?”
He rolls on his side so we’re face to face. “No. That’s an even a bigger deal than the friends thing. I go to a lot of big events and I end up in photos in the society pages of newspapers or online gossip sites. That means I have to show up with the right girl. And that girl is picked for me. I never get to choose. Like today I have to take Courtney to this party and pretend she’s my girlfriend. I don’t even like Courtney as a friend, but we have to put on this show for the cameras.”
“So you’ve never been on a real date with someone you actually chose? You’ve never had a real girlfriend?”
“I’ve been on real dates and I’ve had real girlfriends. The fake girlfriend thing is mainly for when I’m at a public event, like a charity function or a big social function, like this party I’m going to later. Basically any place that photographers might show up. But still, when I’m dating someone for real I try to hide it, especially from my dad.”
Choosing You Page 11