Summer's Desire

by Olivia Lynde

  Though a quick glance at my cell confirms it's still early, fifteen minutes before the bell, it seems as if at least half of Rockford High's studentship is gathered on the school's front lawn, next to the parking lot. And they're all staring... at me! Oh, for crying out loud! Really?! I have to deal with this too, on top of everything else?

  I realize the avid interest is due to the fact that I've just been seen getting out of Seth's car. And what the dickens will everyone be assuming about that little tidbit?! I shudder to even imagine, so I don't. I can't think anymore; my mind has reached its breaking point.

  I force myself to start walking.

  Keeping my head down, I near the school. Just before I pass through the doors, I feel a sharper prickle at the back of my neck, so I turn my head slightly... and meet Jessica's eyes. She's glaring at me with virulent hatred. A shiver of foreboding passes through me.

  I shake it off and continue walking.

  * * *

  After a detour to the bathroom, where I shut myself in a stall for ten minutes and tried (unsuccessfully) to calm myself, I am now moving through the student-infested hallways of Rockford High. It feels as if I'm traversing the burning circles of hell, heading straight for damnation.

  Once they see me, students stop and stare, then the whispering starts, like the buzz of a thousand crazed bees. My ears are ringing and my skin is crawling with the number of eyes looking at me: some curious, others disbelieving, some disgusted and hate-filled (the latter reactions belong to a daunting number of girls).

  The one exception is Jacob, when I coincidentally cross paths with him in front of my Honors English classroom. The moment he sees me, his widened eyes move quickly between my face and the hoodie I'm wearing, of all things. Then his lips curve into an approving grin.

  I duck into the classroom, and it instantly fills with a suffocating kind of silence. I head to my seat without meeting any gaze, sit down, and wearily lay my forehead on the table.

  A minute later I hear someone taking the seat beside me. "I'm pretty sure we've never had so much excitement here. Before you started at R.-High, I mean." It's Marcie, her voice sounding cautious.

  I raise my head and glance at her. Her eyes are kind.

  "Yeah, I live to entertain," I murmur, too drained to muster the adequate amount of sarcasm.

  She gives me a small smile, then her gaze sharpens. "What's with your lip?"

  I stare at her stupidly for almost ten seconds before I can think of a lie. "I tripped and banged my head on the door." Original, right? I give myself a pass, though, since I have good reason for not being at my sharpest right now. And really, the cut was barely noticeable this morning when I checked in the mirror.

  I quickly change the subject. "So it seems the students are talking about me?"

  She nods cautiously.

  "But just a few of them, right? And it'll blow over by second period, right?" I hate being the center of as much focus as I've had directed at me all morning.

  Marcie looks incredulous. "Well, if by 'a few' you mean the whole flipping school, and by 'second period' you mean one in, say... I don't know, a year from now!"

  A chill goes through me—I didn't imagine it would be that bad. "But why all this interest?"

  Her expression wars between skepticism and pity. "Summer, you were seen getting out of Seth's car. We're talking about the Seth Lewis, yes?—the one who's R.-High's big kahuna." Kahu-what? "That's strike one. You're not the first girl in his car, trust me." She snorts. "But he's never driven a girl to school in the morning. Before you, I mean."

  I look at her, uncomprehending. "So what's the big deal? Seth drove me to school. And that means what, exactly? Nothing! At most, people will think that I'm his latest fling—which come on, from what you and Dana have been telling me, would hardly make me special. What's so unique about one more girl possibly being screwed by Seth Lewis, who's reputed to have made a career out of screwing girls? Except for the fact that I hardly look like his usual fare." The words are like sandpaper scraped over my throat.

  Marcie fidgets in her chair with impatience. "There's two unique things, actually. First of all, Dana—who really knows everything when it comes to gossip—mentioned just yesterday that Seth hasn't been umm... screwing any girls lately. Which is pretty much: oh my gosh, the end of the world is coming! His posse of fangirls is already frantic, and you wouldn't believe some of the things they've been trying, to umm... seduce him. Really, you wouldn't believe.

  "And second, even when Seth was banging girls—pardon my French—he never slept-slept with them."

  "What do you mean, he never slept with them?" I can't keep myself from asking, though I know I should. Seth's forever lost to me, so why am I torturing myself by still thinking of him?

  Anyway, I don't get to hear Marcie's answer, because Mrs. Roberts walks in.

  We're discussing Robert Browning's poetry today, and Mrs. Roberts writes a quote on the blackboard:

  All poetry is putting the infinite within the finite.—R. Browning

  Turning to face the classroom, she tells us, "You now have fifteen minutes to work with a partner on figuring out the meaning behind this quote. You don't have to agree with your partner, but you do have to be able to defend your interpretation. All right, people, get to work!"

  Marcie and I instantly turn to each other. All around me, I hear shuffling and whispers as students pair off for the assignment and start working.

  But not me.

  It's as if I have a stranger in my body, for I can't stop myself from giving voice to the question that's been echoing in my head ever since Mrs. Roberts came in.

  "Seth has never slept with any girl?" I whisper at Marcie.

  "Yep, that's a well-known fact among his many lusty admirers." Marcie rolls her eyes. "He never stayed the night with any of the girls he's been with. Dana heard his fangirls were all flipping out because of this, took it as a challenge, sort of, and tried all kinds of, umm... skanky tactics to get him to do a sleepover after the sex. But they all struck out.

  "So if they"—Marcie throws an annoyed look at the students in the classroom who are pretending, poorly, that they aren't still staring at me—"think that your arrival in Seth's car this morning means that you, say, spent the night with him... that would make you special all right. Did you, by the way?" She grins at me.

  I press my fingers over my temples; my earlier headache has gotten so much worse. I ignore her question.

  "So Seth driving me to school, with all that implies, is strike one," I recap wearily. "What is strike two?"

  "You're wearing his hoodie."

  My expression goes slack with dismay. "How do you know that?"

  She smiles ruefully. "After our football team won State Championship again last November, there was a school-wide assembly in their honor. Principal Adams—pretty much bursting at the seams with pride, one might say—made a huge fuss over his fantabulous Rockford Rams. And he gave them lots of goodies." I don't think I like where this is going.

  "Among those goodies," she continues with studied casualness, "was a special-order batch of black hoodies that the jocks have been wearing a lot since. Probably because they're all cocky so-and-sos, so not surprisingly, they all loved that cocky 'Those who can, do' motto. Anyways, the hoodies are all unique—what with being inscribed with the players' own numbers on the team, and all."

  "And," I conclude resignedly, "fifteen is Seth's number." What the heck was he playing at, loaning me a hoodie that everyone would immediately recognize as his own? And why did he choose 15 as his number? It can't be that—

  Marcie twinkles at me. "Him letting you wear his clothes... that's a pretty intimate thing to do by any standard. And trust me, Seth Lewis does not do intimacy. Everyone says so."

  I keep quiet, overwhelmed by all that she's told me.

  "And then there's strike three too," she says. Oh, lordy, there's more still?!

  "What's strike three?" I ask like someone compelled to drink their glass
of poison down to the bitter dregs.

  "Word has gone out about the thing with Josh yesterday."

  All blood drains from my face. "What?!"

  "You know, the thing yesterday, in World History." I start breathing again. "Josh bothering you and Seth going all knight-in-shining-armor for you. Which is also way weird—Seth Lewis putting himself out for a girl. Plus, according to Dana, word from the guys' locker room is, Seth had already kinda warned Josh a few days ago to leave you alone."

  I stare at her, disbelieving.

  She nods at my stupefied expression. "Really, Dana said so. But anyways, seems like Josh didn't listen. So he's either terminally stupid or he has a death wish—no one riles Seth Lewis and hopes to get away with it. I mean, not only he has the pull to, say, make anyone a complete social outcast at R.-High, but Robbie wasn't joking about Seth's scary factor. Trust me, this boy's a real badass."

  "Seth isn't a badass!" I retort sharply, offended by that description. It makes him sound like... some cruel bully, or a conscienceless troublemaker. I've dealt with those types, and Seth is the furthest thing from them that there is. Yes, he can be ruthless when he has to—I know that. But I also know that, in spite of his Mom's best efforts, he never let go of his basic integrity. And I'm not going to pretend otherwise and paint him all black just because he rejected my friendship.

  "But Seth and Josh almost came to blows over you yesterday?" Marcie asks with a raised eyebrow.

  "Something like that," I mutter.

  She seems to be waiting for a further clarification from me, but recognizing that one isn't going to be provided, she continues to share the current gossip. "Well, some people were saying that Seth punched Josh in World History. But no one's seen Josh today—he hasn't shown up in school yet—so they can't check if he has any bruises."

  Then, with a spark in her eye: "Come on, Summer! I've been doing all the talking. It's so your turn to dish!"

  I wince inside. "Actually, this is really not a good time." Nor will it ever be; what happened between me and Seth is nobody's business but our own. "Shouldn't we get started on the assignment? We barely have five minutes left to do it."

  Marcie gives me a knowing look. "Okay, you can keep your secrets for now. But I warn you, you stand no chance against Dana. And she'll be all fired up to waylay you at lunch."

  Oh joy, I can't wait! Maybe it'd be a good idea to avoid the cafeteria today, what with all the feminine death glares I'll be sure to receive and with Dana's planned ambush. Not to mention Seth, whom I don't know how I'll ever be able to face again.

  Luckily for now, Marcie and I get to work, and I'm distracted from the thousand thoughts revolving in my head—all centered around a certain blue-eyed boy.

  * * *

  I somehow muddle through the rest of my day.

  The stares and whispers grow, if anything, worse, but I try to ignore them. I would really, really like to at least be able to change out of Seth's hoodie—it's continuing to draw way too much attention to me—but I can't do that since I have nothing else to wear. And I can't walk around in just my black T-shirt; it's too tight and ratty. Plus, I'd likely freeze, given how unseasonably cold it is today.

  A couple of times I notice Jessica in the hallway, surrounded by her gang of cheerleaders, looking around as if searching for something. Then, on seeing me, a dangerous glint enters her eye, and she starts moving toward me along with her friends. Each time this happens, I quickly turn in a different direction and lose her in the crowd. Right now, I truly don't have the energy for a confrontation with that devil's spawn and her minions.

  Plus, I still ache from yesterday, so if it came to a catfight, I wouldn't like my chances.

  The only good news is that Josh hasn’t appeared today. He'll probably skip school for a few days until he heals some—Seth messed him up pretty badly. God, I'm really scared of seeing him again. I hope I won't have to. I hope he took Seth's warning to heart and will stay away from me.

  During lunch, I hide out in the library. I don't have any food since I didn't get a chance to buy anything this morning, and I'm hungry, but I suffer through it. Better this than braving the cafeteria—and all the stares, the whispers, and the people.

  I keep thinking of Seth, my reflections spinning and twisting until my earlier headache has begun to feel more like a steel trap crushing my head. I'm still in shock over how fast and how wrong things have gone between us. And I don't know how to deal with the fact that he is now truly, utterly lost to me.

  One could argue that I had already lost Seth a long time ago—more than five years in the past, actually—but that wouldn’t be completely true. Deep inside, mostly hidden even from myself, I've always carried the hope that someday, somehow, we would find our way back to each other. So even though I lived without him, I lived with the hope of him.

  After the way he cared for me yesterday, after the way he held me close last night, this hope burned so bright I felt as if I was glowing. So this morning I entrusted him with all my faith.

  And he crushed it.

  I ask myself now how I even dared to feel hope. I should have given up my foolish dreams the moment I saw Seth in the student cafeteria two weeks ago, when already on first glimpse it was so darn clear that the distance between us was insurmountable. I'm still me whereas he's... more.

  Truthfully, even in the past I had felt that, but it never actually mattered before because the two of us were always equals in our need for each other. But on seeing him again after my return to Rockford, I should have recognized that it was only me still needing him.

  He had moved on a long time ago.

  I can understand this, truly I can. He's popular, handsome, headed for a successful future. He can have anything he wants in the world. So why should he want me by his side? I have nothing to offer him but myself: an orphaned, nightmare-plagued, messed-up wreck of a girl.

  So I can understand that he doesn't want me, that I'm not enough anymore. I've only myself to fault for ever hoping differently. Still, understanding doesn't stop the pain.

  I trudge to my first class after lunch, Chemistry, and enter seconds before the teacher. Marcie and Dana both shoot me looks of reproach for having skipped lunch with them. I know they still want to talk to me, so the moment the bell rings after class, I'm out the door and walking fast.

  I have World History next and I'm terrified of seeing Seth again; the wound is still too raw. I enter the classroom and start breathing again when I see that he and his friends aren't here yet. I go to my seat.

  In these two weeks, after that first day, Carter approached me a few more times, trying to jerk my chain with his outrageous flirting. I think it was a game to him; he always looked hugely amused, for some reason. While trying to chat me up, he kept sending insolent side-glances to Seth and was met by fulminating glares in return. I kept ignoring Carter completely.

  But right now, for the first time I’m kind of grateful that Seth shares this class with Carter and Jacob; it’ll be good to have them acting as a buffer between us.

  I'm sitting on tenterhooks, watching the hands of the clock on the wall, and they're vexingly slow. Finally, the bell rings. Still no trace of Seth and his friends. Seven minutes later, Mr. Abbot shows up as well. Even now, Seth's group is not here.

  He's not coming, I realize belatedly. He's skipped class for the first time in the two weeks I've been here.

  This entire hellish day I've somehow managed to suppress my enormous urge to cry, but this little thing—Seth's uncharacteristic absence, most likely because he doesn’t want to see me—almost tips the scales. Sweet mercy, now he can’t stand to even look at me! I blink my smarting eyes furiously and bite my inner cheek so hard that I feel blood dripping in my mouth.

  But I don't let go of my tears.

  Chapter 13

  As I enter the Andersons' house, my eyes fall instantly on Jessica and Louise. They're sitting on the luxurious couch in the living room, both facing the entrance in a manner which makes it c
lear that they've been waiting for me. Given the way they're looking at me—Louise wearing a mask of disdain, Jessica one of malice—I can't help but mentally compare them to vicious cobras poised to strike.

  Lucky me, to be the target in their visor.

  "Well, hello, Summer," says Louise in a cold, mocking tone. "Did you have a nice sleepover?"

  "Yes, thank you." I notice Jessica clenching her fists at my calm response.

  Her mother stares at me with an evil glint in the eye. "Do tell me again the name of your friend who had you for the sleepover. I seem to have forgotten it."

  That's a lie; she never asked it in the first place.

  "Marcie Lauren," I tell her politely. "We've been paired on a project for Honors English."

  "Indeed?" Louise's voice has turned from cold to icy. Swear to God, she's almost giving me frostbite! Her daughter looks even more incensed at my continued composure.

  "Indeed, Louise. The project is about Robert Browning's Poetry."

  "Then maybe you'll enlighten us," Jessica spits out, "how come you arrived to school from your sleepover at Marcie's in Seth's car! Last time I checked, they weren't living together!" Her voice rises with each word, and by the time she finishes, she's screeching like a she-devil.

  I take great satisfaction in seeing her uncontrolled fury contrasted against my unruffled calm. I love to irk the bloody bitch; it's the only way I can get one over her, unfortunately. Other measures would be too risky to undertake if I don't want to be kicked out of the house. Which I clearly don't.

  So I put on an expression of contrived bafflement. "Of course that Seth and Marcie don't live together. Seth simply passed me by in his car this morning when I was walking from Marcie's to school. He stopped to offer me a ride." Then, anticipating a minor inconsistency in my tale: "I was walking alone because Marcie didn't have first period today." It's not like Jessica can prove differently at this point.

  Her face has turned blotchy with her rage. "Why would the most popular guy in school offer a ride to you,"—she says this making the you sound like a four-letter word—"the school's biggest freak?"