I hate to admit this, but I'm feeling kind of giddy right now. Maybe it's childish, but I don't give a rat's ass. This is the first time since the whole Jordan thing went down that I've felt marginally better. Hearing my dad refer to himself as a tool seems like the very least he could do to bolster my spirits.
One brow arches before he rolls his eyes at me. No, for real. He actually rolls his eyes! "Yes, Parker, I can act like a tool sometimes." Then he adds drily, "Does that really make you feel better?"
I can't help the smile that tugs my lips upwards. "Actually, yeah, it does. Just say it one more time. Please?"
My dad chuckles. "Okay, but this is the last time- sometimes I can be a tool. Happy?"
I laugh as he says the words. Oh God, I don't know why that's so damn funny but it is. It so is! He actually laughs with me. I can't believe this. Here we are- me and my dad- in my room laughing. I'm trying to think back to the last time this happened and I honestly can't remember. I can't remember when we laughed together. You know what? It's kind of nice. Nice that we can have a conversation that doesn't end with him yelling and me totally pissed off.
Maybe there's hope for us yet.
After a few minutes we both sober up. And the issue of Jordan settles heavily over me once more.
"Look, you need to think about Jordan and what matters to her and go from there."
I can't help but shake my head in frustration because that's all I've been thinking about for the past few days. "I really don't know what I can do to get her to listen to me much less actually forgive me."
"You're a smart guy, Parker, you'll figure something out."
My mouth doesn't quite fall open this time but yeah, feeling pretty stunned by that admission.
He holds my eyes for a long moment before sighing. "I should probably tell you that more often because you are smart. Your mom's right- you have a lot of potential and I just get mad when I see you squandering it." Then he adds, "I have faith that you'll figure this out. Maybe the fact that this girl isn't falling all over herself for you is a good thing. For once in your life you need to work for it."
I can't help but grumble, "How's that a good thing?" Because honestly, I wouldn't be going through any of this BS if she'd just get with the program and act like all the other girls I've known. But that's not Jordan.
And yeah, it's just one of the reasons I like her.
"Well, I doubt you would be this interested if she just fell into your lap like all the others. Plus you really got the chance to know her, right? Would you have necessarily done that if she hadn't made you work for it?"
That has me frowning because I can see where he's coming from. "I guess not."
"Girls have always come a little too easy for you, Parker. And most of the time, that's not the way life is. You have to work for the things you want. It's not always handed to you. And girls, have pretty much been handed to you."
I can't help but smile at this surreal conversation my dad and I are having. Who would have thought that we'd actually have a bonding moment over chicks?
And yeah, I just threw up a little bit in my mouth too.
But still, I think my dad might be on to something. Trust me, I know, total shocker. I've never actually taken any advice from my dad. Let alone advice that pertains to the female population. I mean, come on, he's my dad... What the hell does he know about girls?
And we're going to stop that train of thought right there before I actually throw up all over myself.
"Alright, I'm going to go help your mom with dinner." He eyes me for a moment. "She's making beef stroganoff, garlic bread, and homemade double chocolate chip cookies."
I can't help but brighten. "My favorites."
He arches a brow. "Yes, that certainly seems to be the theme around here lately." Then he adds, "Get this figured out before I gain any more weight, please."
"I'm trying." Just as he's about to shut my door, I say, "Thanks for the advice, dad." Again, never thought I'd hear those words coming out of my mouth. But you know what? They're absolutely true.
Yep, I think the world just fell off its axis.
"Glad I could help."
Once again I stack my arms behind my head. Okay. Something that matters to Jordan. What can I do that will 1) get her to talk to me without kneeing me in the balls and 2) get her to forgive me without kneeing me in the balls.
Unfortunately I'm not generating a whole lot of ideas.
But my dad is right.
And the day just keeps getting more and more bizarre...
Jordan matters to me. She matters more than any other girl ever has. The last thing I want is to lose her. I don't want to dwell on the very real possibility that I might have already lost her. And even if she is willing to somehow, miraculously forgive me, she's still moving to Boston.
I can't help but scrub a hand down my face in frustration.
Looks like I really screwed myself this time.
Which unfortunately also seems to be the general theme around here lately.
Chapter Twenty-Two
So after the discarding of roughly twenty potential strategies, I have finally come up with a plan to win Jordan back. Or at least get her to hear me out. Umm, without placing my nuggets in harm’s way.
And yeah, it's a total risk. I could end up making a huge ass out of myself. Worse, it might not even work.
At this point it's either go big or go home.
So I'm going big.
I mean, come on people, of course I'm going big... duh. Would you really expect anything less from me?
I don't think so.
Now, in order for this half-baked scheme to actually have a snowball’s chance in hell of succeeding, I need a few things to work like clockwork or this whole operation (aptly dubbed operation win back Jordan's heart- and yeah, I'm focusing all my energy on the plan, not the name of the plan, so deal with it) is going to go to shit faster than you can say- aw hell.
And trust me, I've already said aw hell more times than I can count (which is in no way an indictment against the public school system I've been attending for the previous twelve years, although maybe it should be).
Now, for any good plan to succeed, it needs to have at least two trusted as well as willing accomplices.
Check and check.
"Dude, you sure you want to do this?"
Of course Max is one of my willing accomplices.
Were you seriously expecting someone else?
I nod because come hell or high water, I'm going through with this. If this little demonstration doesn't show Jordan just how much she means to me, then, well, nothing will.
"The real question is- are you sure you want to be involved? Because this will, more than likely, land our asses in detention. For like a month." And that's probably the minimum. I don't even want to think about the maximum punishment.
He shrugs before grinning broadly. "Hell ya," then he bumps my knuckles with his fist, "We're brothers, I always have your back. Anyway, football's over. They can't do anything to me now."
I arch a brow because that's not exactly true. "Actually they can suspend you."
He shrugs like it's no big deal. "Then I'll get a little well deserved vaca. Can't beat that."
"I guess we both will," I mutter hoping it seriously doesn't come down to that.
Max tilts his head to one side as he cracks his neck and then promptly jerks it the other way. It's exactly what he does before he's about to play in a big game. I hear his joints crack and pop. It's actually a fairly disturbing noise.
"So, we doing this thing or what?"
I turn my attention to the lone (and surprisingly mouthy) female of the group.
Lindsey. Or Linz as Max likes to call her.
Because apparently, where Max goes, Lindsey now follows. Trust me, it's a little pukey. But at least she's a massive step up from Crazy Pants, so I'm not complaining.
That much.
Out loud.
Anyway, she was totally on board wit
h this plan after I straightened her damn ass out. Okay, so that's not exactly how it went down. It was more like I begged and pleaded with her until she finally rolled her eyes and gave in before threatening to cut my balls off if I ever hurt her friend again.
FYI- I totally covered my nuggets during her tyrannical outburst.
Sidebar- what the hell is up with these girls wanting to chop off a guy's junk? Seriously, do you ever hear a guy threaten to cut off a girl's important parts? I don't think so. Hell, those are like the best parts. We just want to touch and feel and you know, love them. Chicks can be so violent sometimes.
But like I said before- we came to a meeting of the minds and she finally conceded that this was the best course of action.
Both Max and I nod before Lindsey looks down at her watch. "We have precisely three minutes to knock this out."
Something stirs in the pit of my gut.
Yep, it's go time.
No turning back now.
"Let's start making our way to the office."
Without further words, the three of us push and shove our way through the herd of students plodding their way like cattle to fourth hour. The bell is going to ring in exactly one minute.
I know this because my wristwatch has been synchronized.
Actually all our watches have been synchronized with the school's clock.
Damn but that sounded so much dorkier than I imagined it would.
For a brief moment, we meet each other's eyes just as the bell rings signaling the beginning of forth hour which also happens to be the start of first lunch. We wait exactly one more minute before opening the door to the main office. Mrs. Shepard, the office secretary, is sitting at her desk typing away on her computer keyboard. Max and Lindsey move in front of me as I fall back. This is the part where I act as inconspicuous as possible.
"Hey, Mrs. Shepard, I brought Lindsey down to the office because she said she was feeling kind of dizzy."
Mrs. Shepard, a grandmotherly type older woman gray curls, clucks her tongue before bustling around the side of her messy desk. "Well, you do look a bit pale, dear. Do you want to lie down for a while or should we call your parents?"
Acting the part, Lindsey slowly rubs her temples as if a massive headache is brewing. "I think I'd feel better if I could just lay down for a little bit. I really don't want to miss sixth hour." She adds weakly, "I have a test."
Yeah, I'll give the girl some credit where credit's due. She's good. And Max, playing the part of caring and concerned boyfriend, wraps his thick muscly arm around her before pulling her close to his body. I almost roll my eyes because I think he's enjoying this a little too much. He better not start groping her in front of Mrs. Shepard.
I'll be totally pissed if we have to abort this mission because Max lost focus and got handsy.
"Let's get you to the nurse's office." And with that, she leads them in the opposite direction of where I'm standing.
Looking back, Max gives me a wink along with a big grin.
I give him a slight nod before slinking my way (and yes, I'm seriously slinking) to our vice principal, Mr. Jennings, office. And just as we suspected- his office is empty.
How exactly did we anticipate this?
Well, because it's first lunch right now and Mr. Jennings likes to patrol first lunch because it's the unruliest of all three lunch periods. Juniors, man. They are a seriously crazy bunch.
See? Carefully orchestrated plan coming together just like clockwork. You can almost hear the Mission Impossible theme music playing in the background as I sidle my way quickly into his office. A moment later I quietly close and lock the door behind me.
First part of the plan- total success.
Now it's on to phase two.
I locate the black phone sitting on the corner of his ridiculously organized desk. Sheesh, can you say anal retentive? Mr. Jennings is a total neat freak. Unable to resist, I rearrange a few things on his desk just to mess with him before picking up the phone. Luckily there are instructions for using the PA system otherwise I'd be up shit creek without a proverbial paddle. Taking a deep breath, I press the four digits. And voila, I'm on the speaker system being broadcasted to the school at large.
It's seriously do or die time.
And I am a man on a mission. Operation win back Jordan's heart is a go. I repeat, operation win back Jordan's heart is a go.
For one brief moment, I pray that this whole situation doesn't suddenly go south and turn into a shit storm. And I'm not even going to mention the irreparable damage something like this could cause to my reputation. We're talking catastrophic. Because this isn't the kind of thing you live down.
Like ever.
Hmmm, I wonder if my mom would consider homeschooling me for the rest of senior year. Let's seriously hope it doesn't come to that.
Clearing my throat, I'm suddenly nervous as hell. But like I said before- there's no backing down. I'm going for it. "Hey, what's up everyone, this is Parker Montgomery here. I'm breaking into 4th hour with an important message for a special girl-"
I'm just about to say her name when I hear the door handle being rattled.
Violently.
Mrs. Shepard's small round face fills the slim rectangular glass window in the door.
Yeah, it's definitely time to get this show on the road before she barrels through it. Or finds a key. She may be older and grandmotherly, but she has a lot of girth behind her.
Settling myself on top of Mr. Jennings desk (because he would so hate that), I grab the acoustic guitar I brought with me and position it on my lap. "Jordan Whitnall, this song's for you." Oh so slowly I begin plucking chords. The notes softly blend together shaping themselves into a melody before I add my voice to it.
FYI- I learned to play the guitar because, come on, we all know that badass rocker types are total chick magnets. And let me tell you, the few times I’ve actually needed to pull something out of my ass- you know, go above and beyond my normal shtick to impress a girl- this always did the trick. We're talking grand slam, round all the bases, and slide into home kind of trick. And yeah, I can sing too. Oaky, now there's no way in hell I'll ever win American Idol, but it definitely gets the job done.
And by this point, every single one of you should know that I'm all about getting the job done.
Oh. Yeah.
Closing my eyes, I focus on the soft melody as it begins to fill the small office. I block everything else out.
My nerves.
Mrs. Shepard, which is difficult because she won't stop rattling that damn door knob.
Everything.
In my mind, it's me and her. No one but us.
I'm just singing to Jordan...
To foolish to know what I lost that day
Cause it was our friendship that I threw away
Can you forgive me or is it much too late
For us to start over, to finally have our first date
Cause in your hands, you hold my heart
I need your forgiveness, baby, for tearing us apart
I should have realized, known right from the start
That it was you, Jordan, always in my heart
But I’m done now, done running away
Cause I need you, Jordan, I’m begging you to stay
With every word, my voice grows stronger, more confident. I feel all of the lyrics and their meaning slide through me. I feel every single chord, every single note as I pluck at the strings of my guitar. Even if she won’t forgive me, I need her to know just how much she means to me. What she’s always meant to me.
As I finish the first verse, I see Vice Principal Jennings' face now smashed up against the thin glass window. And- surprise, surprise- he doesn’t look happy about my impromptu performance. He shakes the knob before his curt voice slices through the thick wood door separating us.
"Parker! Get off that speaker system and open this door immediately! You're in a lot of trouble for pulling a stunt like this, young man!"
Ignoring h
im, I launch into the second verse, which is actually just a repeat of the first verse (don’t judge me- do you know how hard it is to rhyme words together?) knowing that my time is clearly marked. It won't be long before someone produces a key.
And then I’m once again closing my eyes, focusing on the notes and on Jordan, hoping that she feels every single ounce of emotion that I’m pouring into this song.
Finally, striking the last chord, I let it linger in the air until there's nothing but silence.
Aside from the pounding and doorknob rattling, that is.
Then I add one last thing. "Jordan, your friendship means a lot to me and the last thing I want is to lose it. I hope you can forgive me for being a giant asshat."
Yeah, not one of the most flowery and romantic speech's ever given but it's the truth. You gotta give me credit for that.
Even if it's just a little bit.
Just as the last words leave my mouth, the door crashes open and Vice Principal Jennings as well as Mrs. Shepard rush into the room. VP Jennings glares at me from under his thick bushy eyebrows before disconnecting the speaker system.
"Mrs. Shepard, please get Mr. Montgomery's parents on the phone immediately, if not sooner." He stalks to stand behind his desk so that we're now facing one another. "Mr. Montgomery, if you're a wise man," he continues to glower at me, "which is highly doubtful, you will remove yourself poste haste from atop my desk and park yourself in one of the chairs over there until your parents arrive."
Mrs. Shepard gives me an equally hard look before shaking her tight gray curls and heading back to the outer office. She suddenly pauses before tilting her head to the side. "Do you hear that?"
Looking exasperated, VP Jennings follows her out into the main office and because I'm fairly curious, I follow too. As I step outside Jennings' office, I begin to hear the commotion as well.
It sounds like thunderous applause filling the corridors. It's everywhere but the majority of it seems to be coming from the lunch room, which is directly across from the main office. It seems like everyone in first lunch is on their feet stomping and cheering and clapping. They're actually whistling and shouting for more. I can't help but shake my head.
Confessions of a Heartbreaker Page 19