Busted

by Gina Ciocca

  “So I’m dying to know where you got that.” I pointed to his wrist as I sat down.

  TJ lifted his forearm from the keyboard and looked at the bracelet. “This?” He smiled. “I made it.”

  My jaw almost unhinged it dropped so fast. “You made that?”

  “Sure did.” He undid the closure and handed the bracelet to me. “I make all my own stuff. Well, most of it. I tan the leather and everything.”

  I turned the bracelet over in my hand. I didn’t see a single indication that it had been made by anyone other than a seasoned professional. The studs weren’t glued on; they were punched, neatly and evenly, into the leather, which felt strong and pliable at the same time. And that color—like butterscotch and coffee and smoke all mixed together in some glorious cowhide potion.

  “This is phenomenal. Really, really phenomenal. I’ve never made something this nice. I mean, I made these”—I pushed my hair behind my ear and angled my head to give him a better view of my earring, a Murano glass charm I’d flanked with silver beads—“and I make other jewelry and sew a bit, but this is real craftsmanship. You have some serious talent.”

  TJ flushed at my babbling and looked down at his keyboard. “Thanks. Your stuff is nice too.”

  I handed him his bracelet, embarrassed that he’d deign to compliment my trinkety creations. “Not like this. I’d love to know how you made it.”

  A light came on in his eyes as he snapped the bracelet around his wrist. He looked like a new father talking about his baby. “I have a workshop set up in the barn. My uncle taught me some of what I know, but I mostly taught myself. I buy my own materials and create all my own designs. I’m working on setting up a website so I can take orders too.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched in an odd sort of grimace, like he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

  I eyeballed the bracelet again. “I’d definitely be interested in buying some of your stuff. Hell, I’d love to learn how to do it so I can make my own.”

  The bell rang and TJ stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “The next time you’re at the farm, come find me.” I froze, then flashed a stiff smile as I realized he meant the next time I went to the farm for a Christmas tree or a hayride, not the next time I went stalking him. “I’ll give you a tour of my shop.”

  I stood up too. “Sounds great. I’d really like that.”

  As he waved over his shoulder on his way out, I could barely refrain from slapping myself. In the midst of my gushing, I hadn’t brought up a single topic that might’ve prompted him to mention Kendall or Templeton. He’d given me the perfect segue too, since I’d made the connection that the ankle bracelet Kendall had been wearing the day we’d crossed paths in the school parking lot had to have been one of TJ’s creations. I totally could’ve worked it into the conversation to see if he’d bite, and instead, I hadn’t been able to see past the silver-studded stars in my eyes.

  Oops.

  Still, I had a safety net. Because if he’d meant it when he told me to come find him at the farm, I’d given myself a guaranteed in.

  9

  Jordan’s locker slammed shut so hard, I could have sworn the wall vibrated.

  “Um, are you okay?” I asked.

  “Sorry,” he spat. “My car got broken into and I just got the estimate to fix it. Goddamn rip-off.”

  “Yikes, that sucks.” It was a much more sensitive response than the first one that popped into my head, which involved calling him out on the fact that his parents would probably pay for it anyway. “Where did it happen?”

  His hands slid into his pockets and he looked everywhere but at me. “At a friend’s house.”

  A friend’s house—a.k.a. the Bang du Jour.

  “Sorry to hear that,” I said without much sympathy. I slammed my locker. “See you later.”

  “So are you going to Kevin Davidson’s party Saturday night?”

  I looked over my shoulder to make sure Jordan, not a passing ventriloquist, had asked me the question. Had he actually said something conversational to me? I blinked to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

  “Are you?” he prompted.

  “Are you?”

  “Probably.”

  “Then why do you care?”

  Jordan rolled his eyes and gave a soft grunt of annoyance. “You don’t have to give me attitude. It’s only a question.”

  “Are you trying to make sure I’m not going so I don’t ruin your night?”

  Jordan threw up his hands. “For fuck’s sake, forget it. Sorry I asked.”

  He started to walk away, but I called him back. “Wait, Jordan. I’m sorry. You never talk to me anymore and I don’t know how to react. Bitch is my first line of defense.”

  He smiled a little and I cursed the way my insides fluttered. “I remember,” he said with a laugh.

  Wait—what the…? Was that a look of fondness? If I didn’t know better, I’d say Jordan was getting nostalgic. Dear God, please let him get nostalgic.

  I leaned against my locker and tried to sound casual. “So, what about this party?”

  “Nothing important. Kevin is having a bonfire again. I remember a while ago you were working on that fire collection, and it made me think of you.”

  Oh my God, he was getting nostalgic. My fire collection had resulted from my fascination with the different hues visible inside flames. And, if I’m being honest, the way they’d reflected in Jordan’s eyes the last time we were at Kevin’s bonfire together. I’d spawned a whole line of bracelets and necklaces in brilliant oranges and yellows and reds with black and sapphire accents. I’d even sold a bunch of the pieces at Prints Charming and made enough money for half the down payment on my jalopy.

  Why would he bring that up now, after giving me the cold shoulder for so long?

  I tried to act unaffected. “So I guess you’re going?”

  “I’ll be there.” He looked around and took a step closer. “It would be nice if you were too. It’s stupid that we can’t be friends.”

  With that, he turned and headed down the hall, leaving me a human tornado of questions and emotions. Could it possibly be that, after all this time, Jordan had started missing me?

  I wandered off to class in a daze. I never ever planned to get caught in Jordan’s web of hotness and hypocrisy again, but I needed to know what had brought on this change of heart. Even letting the tiniest part of me believe that he regretted our breakup made me feel powerful, like I’d gained the upper hand. And hadn’t I earned the right to toy with him a little?

  I stopped short in the doorway to the classroom, nearly causing a pileup as I remembered a very important detail: Kevin Davidson’s property bordered Maple Acres Tree Farm. Last time I’d watched in awe as the flames silhouetted the treetops in the darkness, never imagining I’d be spending so much time at that farm a mere year later…or why. If TJ was going to be at the party this year, and if he planned to bring Kendall, we could have a problem on our hands.

  Or not, I thought as I took my seat. Kendall and I could pretend not to know each other, and TJ would be none the wiser to our plan. I had been pretty adamant that the three of us should avoid being in the same place at the same time, but for one night, I didn’t see the harm. It wasn’t like my friends hung out with TJ’s friends anyway. Besides, Kendall said TJ didn’t like parties, so maybe he wouldn’t even go.

  All I knew was that whatever TJ’s plans were for Saturday evening, I hoped they involved Kendall. Because Kevin Davidson’s party was suddenly the only place I wanted to be that night, and I didn’t need her love life ruining it for me.

  • • •

  For the rest of the week, I jumped every time my cell phone chimed with a text. I kept waiting for Kendall’s panicked message that TJ had blown her off again and she needed me to be on call. I’d already planned my lie to get out of being her Girl Friday, though
I knew I’d feel guilty doing it. So far TJ hadn’t done anything wrong, but if he was cheating, there would be plenty of opportunities to catch him. One night off wouldn’t kill anyone.

  Even as Charlie and I were in my room getting ready for the party, I couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief. As if he’d read my mind, Nick leaned against the frame of my bedroom door and looked in, bewildered.

  “Are you putting on makeup? Did Kendall give you the key to the handcuffs?”

  “We’re going to Kevin Davidson’s bonfire. Wanna come?”

  “Nah, that guy’s a douche nugget.”

  “You mean nobody wants a junior there?” Charlie teased.

  Nick looked past me, to where Charlie stood applying lip gloss in front of my mirror. “What’s the matter, Charlotte, your school too swanky to throw a decent party?”

  Charlie stuck out her tongue. “Listen, I went to school in Herring Cross until eighth grade. I have friends here. Besides”—she turned back to the mirror and ran her fingers through her bangs—“Templeton guys suck.” She must’ve missed the doofy grin that appeared on Nick’s face, because she zipped the tube of lip gloss into her clutch and turned to me. “So Kendall and TJ made up, or what? I’m shocked that you’re free tonight. Almost as shocked as I am that you want to go to this party.”

  I ignored the last part of her comment and tossed her my cell phone. “She sent me a text on Wednesday, but I haven’t heard from her since. I’m not about to check in either.”

  Charlie scrolled through my phone. “‘TJ came over after school today, smiley face.’” She looked up at me in disgust. “You realize this is code for ‘he threw me down on my twenty-four-carat gold bed with its diamond-encrusted headboard and had fourteen different kinds of sex with me,’ right?” She tossed the phone back and shuddered like it had cooties.

  My expression soured and I said, “Thanks for the visual” at the same time Nick said, “Nice.”

  Charlie turned to my brother. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? I may need help restraining your sister from dry humping Jordan Pace on sight.”

  Nick looked me dead in the eye. “I’ll kill you.”

  “Jesus, I’m not going to do anything with Jordan! You guys really think I’m that stupid? Don’t answer that.”

  I turned back to my closet and rifled through my shirts for the hundredth time, mostly so I didn’t have to see the looks I knew they exchanged. After the way Jordan had broken my heart, wanting him to secretly pine for me made me human, not weak. At least in my opinion.

  Now I just had to pray I was as strong as I pretended to be.

  10

  A bunch of guys were putting the finishing touches on the bonfire as Charlie and I crunched through dead, fallen leaves into Kevin’s backyard. It was freezing, and when our friends offered us beer, I shook my head, wishing someone would hand me a steaming cup of hot chocolate instead.

  The Davidsons had a fan-shaped yard, spreading outward as it moved away from the house with its bi-level deck. Beyond the tree line that marked the edge of their property, the shadows of Maple Acres’ rolling hills and pointed treetops were visible in every direction. The tall, narrow fire sat dead center in the lawn, and I spotted Jordan even before we pulled folding chairs up around it. He stood against the railing of the top deck, a cup of beer in one hand, the other balled in the pocket of his hoodie, talking to Sara Mendez. She twirled the end of her long black hair, threw her head back, and laughed at something he said. Jordan’s eyes darted straight to her ample chest when she did.

  “What’s that crotch monger doing here?” Charlie muttered.

  “You knew he was coming.”

  Charlie snorted. “I meant Sara. She’s a junior. Why would she be here? Oh, right. Probably because she’ll need knee replacement surgery by age twenty-five from all the time she supposedly spends on them. No wonder they invite her every year.”

  “Charlie, what is wrong with you?” I exploded. I’d had enough. It was one thing to have an off moment every now and then, but moments where my best friend felt like a stranger were a hard pass, thank you very much.

  She blinked, appearing genuinely surprised by my outburst. “It was a joke, Marisa.”

  “It was mean. And so was what you said about Kendall in the car the other night. What’s going on with you lately?”

  Her head dropped and she traced the rim of her cup. “My Templeton is showing, isn’t it?” she said quietly.

  “I’m not gonna lie. You’ve been…different since you started going to school there. Not all the time, but…”

  “Enough that you had to call me out for being a total bitchface.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Marisa. It’s a different world over there. There’s so much pressure to ‘not only succeed, but excel.’” She rolled her eyes as she quoted the school’s motto. “Competition is so cutthroat and it’s like you have to kill or be killed. I guess I let myself get sucked into the vortex sometimes.”

  It was the first time Charlie had ever spoken disparagingly about Templeton, and it surprised me. “Do you regret not staying at Herring Cross?”

  She shook her head. “I’m happy where I am, but it doesn’t mean the school isn’t ridiculous. I think people forget that it’s an education, not a status symbol. Including the students. Consider this conversation my mental slap back to reality.”

  “Good. Because I’m not above actually slapping you.”

  We both laughed, but when my eyes darted back to the deck, Charlie pinched my arm. “Go get a beer. If you’re going to convince me that you’re here to socialize, you need to do way better than this.”

  I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out and headed toward the keg, which sat at the base of the deck steps. I had gotten three quarters of the way there when Jordan noticed me. He nodded in my direction and raised his cup in a wave. Before I had even finished wiggling my mittened fingers in return, he turned back to his conversation with Sara.

  Okay then.

  I lowered my hand, feeling ridiculous. He’d asked me to be here and that was the best hello he could muster?

  I took my drink back to the fire and tried to join in the chatter, tried to care about the game of beer pong in progress, tried to keep myself from wondering if Jordan had really brushed me off or if I’d read too much into his lack of greeting. It’s not like I could expect our relationship to be perfect overnight after months of cold shoulders and death glares. So when my eyes kept panning the yard like sprinklers on a timer and located Jordan alone at the keg, I stood up to prove to myself that I was overthinking things.

  My cup still held half of my original beer, and it had grown warm and skunky, but I clutched it like a security blanket and forced myself to take sip of the putrid liquid as I closed in on Jordan.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “What’s up?” He glanced at me and then looked down at the tap again, giving me a twitchy smile like he couldn’t decide on an appropriate level of friendly. The greeting felt lukewarm at best, but again, I told myself to stop letting my imagination work overtime.

  I wrapped my free hand around my arm and rubbed briskly. “I don’t remember it being this cold last year.”

  Probably because I’d had Jordan’s arms around me all night. I shivered, but not from the weather.

  “It’s pretty raw out here.” He scooped a second cup up from the ground. “Hey, can I catch up with you later? I have to bring this to someone.” He indicated the other cup he’d picked up.

  Nope, not my imagination at all. He was definitely blowing me off. The last shred of hope I’d been clinging to withered inside me and died as I realized I’d been had yet again.

  “I—yeah. No problem. Later.”

  His smirk had enough condescension and self-righteousness to make me want to hurl my beer at his head and then barf the portion I’d drank all over Kevin’s crunchy lawn. He turned and walked away
to bring “someone” her beer, like I didn’t know damn well who that “someone” was.

  I tossed my cup in the garbage hard enough to make the beer slosh out and took a deep breath of chilly air to loosen the knot of disappointment in my chest. Disappointment in myself, that is. I’d spent an hour choosing my outfit, blow-drying my hair, and putting on makeup, all to watch Jordan flirt with another girl. What was it about him that turned me into a brainless, spineless moron?

  “Never again,” I said out loud.

  “Is it that bad?”

  I jumped and spun to see who’d responded to my chat with myself. To my surprise, TJ stood a foot away from me, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his plaid coat. I opened my mouth, but only a croaking sound came out.

  “The beer,” he said, nodding toward the garbage. “Is it that bad?”

  “It’s…not really beer weather, I guess. Too cold.” I laughed, a wimpy little sound that made TJ narrow his eyes at me.

  “Are you okay?”

  I shrugged. “Sure. So what are you doing here? Where’s K—” I almost choked swallowing the word Kendall. “Kevin? Have you seen Kevin yet? It’s his party and he’s barely been out here.”

  Nice one, Marisa. You suck.

  TJ took a look around the yard and shook his head. “I haven’t seen him. Last year, after this party, there were beer cans and crap all over our property. I really only came over to make sure no one does anything stupid.”

  Too late. I’m the biggest idiot in this place.

  TJ grabbed a cup, looked at it, and put it back. “On second thought, maybe I should go say hi. I’ve gotta be social if I’m gonna make friends. At least that’s what my parents tell me.” He smiled. “Be right back.”

  He bounded up the stairs to the deck and I wasted no time yanking off my mitten and whipping my phone out of my pocket to text Kendall.

  Where are you?

  A few seconds later her response came: Cousin’s bachelorette party. Why?