My Junior Year of Loathing (School Dayz #2)

by Jennifer DiGiovanni

  “You know, Brian helped out me once in a while when he first bought this house. Said the heavy work took his mind off the issues he dealt with in the office during the day.”

  I nearly drop my flowers. “You’re talking about Brian Welsh, right? The man who wears designer sweatpants?”

  “I am.” Jack wipes sweat from his brow and grins.

  “I can’t imagine him shoveling mulch.”

  Jack just laughs. “A rare sight, but trust me, it did happen.” He takes a second to survey the yard. “We’ll plant mums in the empty beds around back. In a month or so, when the annuals out front succumb to the frost, I’ll replace them too.”

  “There’s a lot of keeping-up-with-the-Joneses type of landscaping around here, isn’t there?”

  “Yes, and I won’t complain. It’s the reason I’m gainfully employed.”

  We spend the next hour digging and planting a sea of mums in the mulch beds. The sun roasts the back of my neck, almost making me wish I had my own ridiculous straw hat.

  “Well done, Melinda,” Jack praises my latest arrangement, patting me on the back several times.

  “What else can I do? Do you need help setting up a rose garden?” I stand and brush the dirt off my knees. “In the empty bed next to the terrace?”

  Jack shakes his head. “Roses are spring plantings. But keep that thought in mind for a few months. Next week I’ll aerate the lawn. Wait till you see my power seeder.” His voice carries of touch of pride.

  He shows me how to stomp in the soil to push down the roots of the mums, an action I find to be very cathartic. After I water the new flowers, I rush in the house and change into my riding gear. The half-mile trek to the stables helps to clear my head and ease some of my worries about upcoming tests and newspaper deadlines. So far, junior year is manageable. Plus, I’m kind-of-almost dating a cute guy.

  I feed Truffle a bunch of carrots and take him out to soak up the bright sun and crisp autumn air. The first leaves are beginning to shift from green to red and gold. We round the first curve of our familiar riding circuit, and Connor appears.

  “Hey, stranger,” he says, breaking out of the forest and onto the trail.

  I slow Truffle’s gait. “Hey, yourself.”

  “Truff.” He nods to my horse. Truffle dips his long face in response, his dark mane catching the wind.

  “Where have you been?” I ask. “Jack was working at the house today, and I got stuck playing in the dirt with him.”

  “He didn’t ask for help.” Connor drags the toe of his boot across the trail. “So, you’re not walking home from school anymore?”

  “My mom left me her car while she was out of town. She’s back now, so next week I’ll be walking.” I steady myself as Truffle fidgets, his nostrils flaring. “You could have stopped by if you wanted to talk to me. Knocked on the door.”

  He continues eyeing the dirt. “I’ve never needed to find you. You’re always around.”

  “Yes, I’m way too available.” My nose wrinkles. Should I be playing hard to get with Connor? Why does that even matter?

  He looks up from the ground and laughs. “Since you’re here now, we could find a place to chill. Just lose the horse.”

  “What, like tie him up to a tree and leave him to fend for himself?”

  “Why not?”

  “Sorry, but no. If you want to hang out, I’ll take you to the stables, show you around. Maybe even let you ride one of Truffle’s friends.”

  He scoffs. “I’m sure Truff and his friends are a lot of fun, but I don’t ride horses.”

  I duck my head to hide a smile. “Not up for a challenge?”

  “Nope. It’d be cool to watch you jump something, though. If I can stand at least fifty feet away.” He pauses, and then adds, “But I don’t want to intrude. If there’s … someone else.”

  I raise my hand to shield my eyes from the sunlight poking through the trees. Does he know about Ty?

  He frowns at my silence. “So, that’s it. There’s someone else.”

  “Not exactly,” I say. “Not formally.”

  Connor’s eyebrows lift. “Is there a formal process I don’t know about?” He steps around Truffle, patting the horse’s neck as he eases closer.

  My palms start to sweat. “No … but I don’t really know how the process works, either. I mean, I’m no expert.”

  “Simple communication is usually the best tactic.” He takes a step back and sweeps his arm around the empty trail. “We can talk here, for a minute.”

  I dismount slowly, keeping a firm grip on Truffle’s reins. Suddenly, Connor and I are standing eye to eye. I breathe in the scent of grass clinging to his clothes.

  Connor picks up my braid and twists it between his fingers. “You look like one of those American Girl Dolls. The one with the black helmet and riding outfit.”

  I set one hand on my hip. “Are you a doll enthusiast?”

  “No, but there are lots of girls in Chicago. Everyone had a Molly. The one with glasses. Top pick for show-and-tell day in third grade.”

  His dark eyes hold mine, and the air around us feels unnaturally still, like we’re trapped in a bubble in the center of the forest. I blush under the weight of his stare, and then blush more, embarrassed by my way-too-obvious reaction to him. Connor drops my braid and backs away. “Truff’s gonna kick my ass for touching his girl, isn’t he?”

  “Truffle just gets annoyed when he has to stand around waiting for me.”

  Connor looks me up and down, running a hand over the rough tweed of my riding jacket. “Are you hot?”

  “I don’t know. Am I?” I release an unsteady breath.

  “Aw, eff it,” he says, sliding his arms around my waist and covering my mouth with his. We seem to crash together, both of us brimming with an unrestrainable energy. A frantic spark propels me forward, closer to him. Still holding Truffle’s lead in one hand, I loop my arms around Connor’s neck to steady myself, tilting my head back and parting my lips. His unshaven face chafes my already warm cheeks, intensifying the heat flowing between us. When it’s over, as quickly as it started, we’re both gasping for air.

  “I will say that you don’t kiss like an American Girl Doll,” he breathes.

  And I … can’t say anything. Behind me, Truffle expels an irritated snort. I press my face into the sleeve of my jacket, bruising my swollen lips even more.

  “Connor … ” I’m at a total loss. I need a minute to cool off.

  “Yes, Melinda?” he asks, dark eyes flashing with amusement.

  “What was that?”

  “Beats me. Should we do it again?”

  My legs shake as I back away from him and swing onto my saddle. “Maybe another time.” Truffle wants to trot, but I hold him for one second longer. “By the way, if you really do want to try that again, then you’re definitely getting on a horse.”

  And with that, I flick the reins. Truffle and I gallop away, leaving a smiling Connor of the Woods running a hand through his tangle of dark hair.

  Chapter Ten

  As much as I want to collapse in bed, hug a pillow to my chest, and relive my kiss with Connor, I don’t have time. And, to be honest, I’m afraid of what good (or bad) might come from thinking too much about anything related to Connor of the Woods. So I push him out of my brain and devote the rest of my afternoon to party prep. I borrow Mom’s car and run to the mall for a quick shopping trip. At times like these, I usually have an idea in my head of the dress I want and it’s just a matter of finding it. After an hour of fruitless searching, I try on something from the sale rack at Macy’s—a leftover from summer, fitted on top, with a flowing skirt and embroidered flowers. The perfect dress for a party at the Martins.

  Mom and Brian leave the house at six thirty for pre-dinner cocktails at Trattoria Altomeri, where they’ve reserved the back room for their business friends. My alone time is spent studying a website devoted to makeup tricks. I copy their suggested color combinations to bring out the blue in my eyes. By the
time the doorbell rings at seven, I’m dressed and ready to go. By the way Ty stutters out a hello, I assume he’s impressed.

  “You’re quiet tonight,” Ty says as we drive to the Martins’.

  “Sorry, it was a long day, starting with our fall planting.” I tell Ty about Jack’s latest garden escapades.

  For the rest of the ride, I keep up my running commentary, though Connor’s kiss lingers in my mind. I can still feel the sun warming my face just before Connor’s lips touched mine. The scent of the woods is embedded in my brain, overpowering Ty’s light cologne. I never intended to kiss Connor. And I never picked up on his desire to do more than ridicule my naming abilities and clear the snacks out of my pantry. But it happened and now I need to find a way to move on.

  The boy in the woods is an unknown to me right now. Junior year isn’t the time to allow risky variables like Connor to enter your life. I have goals to achieve and dreams to conquer.

  We pull up in front of the largest house in town, a sprawling stone mansion, and I finally push Connor out of my head. “I’m a little nervous about this party,” I confess as we step out of Ty’s Jeep.

  Ty’s easy grin helps unravel the knots in my stomach. “The important adults never bother with people our age. Not unless they’re looking for someone to fetch them a drink.”

  A white-gloved valet snatches Ty’s keys and directs us to the open gates leading to the backyard. Fairy lights sparkle from high tree branches, floating their starry glow above the laughing crowd. Music drifts from speakers hidden in the flower beds. For Jack’s sake, I check the Martins’ gardens, up close and personal, even snapping a photo with my phone.

  Ty offers me his arm, and we manage to circulate as a dignified couple until Becca spots us and drags Will over. They’re already stinking drunk.

  Becca snares me in a hug. “I’m so glad you made it.”

  “Need a drink, Quinny?” Will asks. We traipse over to the bar, where Ty orders two sodas. Will whispers to the bartender, who’s not much older than us. She winks at him and hands me a drink spiked with rum.

  “What’s this party about, anyway?” Becca asks Will as we all sip our drinks.

  “Retirement for Judge Wallace. The big guy over there.” Will points to a man with Abraham Lincoln stature and slicked-back silver hair. He’s surrounded by a group of older men and women in business suits. “Also, a get-together to fund his successor’s campaign. November’s election is a big one, and the Martins are heavy into local politics.”

  Ty introduces me to his brother Zach, an alternative Ty with shorter hair and broader shoulders. Attached to Zach’s arm is Maddie Martin, whose dark hair and deep-blue eyes are well-known traits of her locally famous and highly photographed family.

  While Ty talks to Zach, Maddie asks me about school. I gloss over the details, knowing the Martin kids all attend expensive private academies. When we quickly run out of mutual interests, Maddie excuses herself to say hello to some of her parents’ friends, leaving me alone with the Quinn brothers. More college guys gather around as I stand as still as a statue, listening to debates on the best Ivy League rugby teams, New York art galleries, and expensive cars.

  Just as I’m about to abandon Tyler to find Becca, the music coming from the speakers cuts off. A six-member band strolls out of the tent and begins setting up on the patio. In the dead space between songs, a wave of chatter increases in volume, overcompensating for the lack of mood music. Surveying the crowd, I happen to glance toward the wrought-iron bars trapping me in the Martins’ backyard. On the opposite side of the fence, a dark form moves between the dark branches of two maple trees.

  I finish my soda and set the empty cup on the nearest table before excusing myself in the middle of a discussion about water polo. Ty barely glances my way. I hurry around the circus-sized tent, taking refuge behind the canvas. Beyond that, I inch down the small hill, aiming for the forest. When I reach the fence, I grasp the bars and press my face through a small gap, scanning for signs of life.

  “Connor?” I whisper.

  He steps out of the darkness. “Mel? You’re in there?”

  A sick sense of treason jabs my chest. “A friend from school invited me.”

  “Oh. Right.” Connor runs a hand through his wayward hair. “How’s life on the other side?”

  “My feet are killing me, and I’m listening to guys talk about water polo. Translation: not fun. What are you doing in the woods on a Saturday night?”

  He shrugs. “Passing through. Jack called me for some late work.”

  “You’re landscaping after sundown?”

  He looks past me, watching the party. “You shouldn’t be back here. Your friends will miss you.”

  I slip my hand through the fence. “I’m your friend, too.” Are we friends? We kissed, so we must be something.

  He folds his arms across his chest. “We barely know each other.”

  “What are you talking about? After what happened today … ” Does he not remember the kiss to end all kisses?

  He lifts his chin, refusing to make eye contact. “Go back to your party, Melinda.”

  My bottom lip quivers. I grip the iron rails to steady myself. “Why are you acting like this? You kissed me, and now you’re spying on me—”

  He cuts me off with a fierce stare. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I’m spying on the arrogant rich people, not you.” He takes a breath. “About the kiss … I owe you an apology for that.”

  I need to look away from him. “Do you regret it?”

  He sighs quietly. “You overthink everything. There’s no regret. I went for a walk on the trail. You came riding along. We talked…you said you were hot in that riding outfit, I agreed … ”

  “You asked me if I was hot. I didn’t say I was hot.” But I laugh away my disappointment. He thinks our kiss was a mistake. The kiss that consumed me for the entire day meant nothing to him. My heart deflates like a punctured balloon.

  He rests his forehead against the fence, placing his hands on top of mine. We lapse into silence until a blast of trumpets breaks the tension between us. Connor steps back. “I need to go. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

  After one last look at him, I turn away.

  “Be careful, Mel,” he whispers.

  “You too.” I glance back, but he’s already disappeared into the forest.

  I scale the small hill and rejoin the party. The band launches into a rousing rendition of a new pop song, prompting a cluster of girls to form a circle and dance. Eventually I find Ty near the bar, with Will and Becca.

  Ty slides his arm around my waist. “I was looking for you.”

  “Sorry, I got a bit lost in this huge backyard.”

  The rest of the evening passes in a pleasurable, though somewhat uneventful, manner, filled with ritzy food and plenty to drink. I’m at one of the parties I’ve always dreamed of attending. But I’m bored out of my skull. Most of the time I have no guess as to what’s on the tray in front of me, but I assume everything offered is edible, even the little salty black pebbles and the funky-smelling slivers of raw fish.

  As the night drags on, the Martin’s huge backyard swells with laughter and music. Suit jackets and high heels are discarded. When the band plays a set of slow songs, Ty takes my hand and leads me to the makeshift dance floor covering one corner of the perfectly manicured lawn.

  “I hate dancing,” I admit. “I’m always taller than the rest of the girls, and I feel like a gawky baby giraffe still learning to walk.”

  “No worries tonight,” he says, bringing my hands up and resting them on his chest. “I’m taller than you. And I bet you’re a better dancer than me.”

  I kick off my heels and slide them under a table. “No stomping on my toes.”

  He smiles. “No guarantees.”

  But he’s a great dancer. His natural athletic ability seems to make all of his movements appear smooth and graceful.

  We sway back and forth until Will taps on Ty’s shoulder. “Becca’
s close to missing curfew. We’re taking off.”

  “We’re with you,” Ty answers for both of us.

  Will shakes the sleeping valet awake, and asks for the keys. When Ty drops me off, he leans in for a fast kiss good night and then decides to steal another minute for a longer, deeper one. I concentrate on savoring the feel of Ty’s mouth on mine. I need to memorize his kiss. It’s the only way I can think of to erase Connor from my mind.

  “Don’t get in trouble for being late,” he says, steering me toward the door.

  “I won’t. But it would be worth it if I did,” I say, throwing my arms around him for a final hug. He seems startled by my impulsive action but not unhappy.

  I wonder if he picked up on my indifference at the party. My need to escape for minutes at a time. Thinking back, I wasn’t really indifferent, per se. Preoccupied might be a better description. Every neuron in my brain is running on overdrive and I feel like I’m constantly trying to run in two very different directions. The boy I should like and the one I should loathe are mixed up in my heart.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sunday morning, my bedroom is too bright. I check the time (after ten!), change into sweats, and speed downstairs before Mom begins to wonder why I’m sleeping in.

  “I thought I told Jack no mowing on Sunday,” Brian complains over the loud puttering of a tractor engine. A motor oil-fueled breeze drifts in the open window.

  Mom shifts her coffee mug between her hands and yawns. “It might rain this week. He’s probably getting a jump on his schedule.”

  I pour myself a bowl of cereal and set it down on the island rather than join them at the long kitchen table.

  Brian grumbles at the commotion for a half hour before tossing his paper on the table and stalking into his office.

  Mom rises from her chair, hurrying to follow him, throwing me an apologetic look. “His latest deal fell through last night. It’s a good thing you missed dinner.”

  A dull throb pulsates between my temples, reminding me of the fruity cocktails I downed at the Martins’ party. I grab my riding gear from the mudroom and head out, hoping a walk to the stables will wake me up.