“Yeah, yeah. I’ve spent too much time with Logan in the last two months,” I answered.
“So, you and Mike are on butt-grabbing terms now? That progressed quickly.”
“L-O freaking L. You’re hilarious,” I replied with more sarcasm than should be humanly possible.
“I try.” Becca grinned.
“Maybe you should go to homecoming with Logan instead of me,” I offered.
“Why? You want to go with Mike now that you know how good he is at grabbing butts?”
“Oh, for the love—he didn’t grab my butt. He barely touched it. And I was going to say that you and Logan should go together, because you’re both so fond of making jokes at my expense. You two are like a match made in my very own personal hell.”
“Mmmm. He is dreamy. You just say the word and I’ll take him off your hands,” Becca purred as we reached the end of the hall and had to split ways.
“Can’t do it. Then I’d be dateless instead of you.”
Becca took the jab in stride. “Oh, well. I guess there’s always Mikey McGrabbyhands.”
“You can’t possibly be so desperate that your standards are that low.”
Becca’s eyes flashed. “Rude!”
I had been rude, so I don’t know why I didn’t just say sorry. Instead, I replied, “Come on, you know what I meant.” Somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain, my answer sounded like an apology. Mike must have been subconsciously calling the stupid out of me.
Now Becca’s eyes were flashing and her cheeks were red. “I know that you should have meant you were sorry when I helpfully pointed out your rudeness. But since you didn’t say it, you really must think I’m pathetic. Everyone knows that Jayden Valdez doesn’t back down when she believes she’s right. Which is always.” The sixth period bell rang, and Becca threw her hands in the air. “Great, now I’m desperate and tardy. Who wouldn’t want to go to homecoming with a giant, desperate, tardy freak?” She started walking, no longer in a hurry to get to class.
“Becca, please. I am sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
Becca held her hand up to silence me without looking back.
“Ugh.” I grunted in frustration as I turned toward the senior hall. No sooner had I rounded the corner that I ran smack into Mike. He was deliberately blocking my path and he looked disappointed in me, even though my fight with Becca wasn’t any of his dang business.
“Are you kidding me right now?” I spat at him. “Let me guess: You heard all of that conversation.” I pushed past him harder than necessary, needing to take my frustration out on somebody.
“Nah,” he replied, following behind, “just the part where you were a complete hag to your best friend.” I shot him a nasty glare as I continued to class. “So, yeah, I guess I did hear all of it.”
“Well, it was cool of you to eavesdrop, but you can spare me your self-righteous lecture. I know I was wrong.”
“Good. Honesty is the first step in Brats Anonymous.”
I kept walking as I sent him a crude gesture over my shoulder. What was wrong with me today? He didn’t respond, but in that moment, I knew he was right. When had I become such a brat? I was no better than Mike McGinnes. In fact—I was worse.
MIKE
I waited in the library at the front table. I knew Jayden would walk past me, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity to poke at her. She stomped in, gave me her signature glare, and walked to the back of the room. She waited for me to get up and join her, but I didn’t. That girl always got what she wanted, because nobody bothered to fight with her. But I didn’t mind fighting—with Jayden, it was kind of fun. I opened my textbook and folded my hands neatly across the pages. I was staying put.
Jayden’s glare intensified, and I could tell she was sending me mental death threats, but eventually she gave up and sat down across from me. “Was that so hard?” I asked.
“About as hard as your head.”
“I have harder parts than my head,” I countered. Her eyes grew wide at the implication. I let her stew for half a second before lifting my sleeve and flexing my bicep. “You think that’s hard, you should see my abs.” I said it like a joke, but it was basically true.
She was surprised for the briefest moment, and then she grunted. “How Cro-Magnon of you.”
“Your grunt suggests you’re familiar with the genome on a personal level.”
“At least I’ve evolved. Your face suggests that you haven’t yet.”
I tsked good-naturedly. “Your face might be prettier than mine, but your manners prove that you haven’t evolved as much as you think.”
Jayden wrinkled her nose, then pulled her reading glasses off her head and put them on. She opened her textbook as she responded, “I could do this all day, but we have very little time to utilize your excellent teaching skills.” She oozed sarcasm, and I chuckled.
I could exchange insults with Jayden all day, too. It was the most entertained I’d been by a girl in years, literally. The hot ones never gave me the time of day. The smart ones wouldn’t, either. Ditzy girls of all varieties and underclassman were the best I could do, given my appalling personality. Luckily, being an athlete brought a certain amount of popularity, so at least some girls would talk to me. Back when I was a nerd, that never happened.
An unfortunate effect of dating ditzes and freshman was never feeling emotionally satisfied. Jayden and I weren’t dating, but she challenged me. If this was the only way to get a mentally stimulating relationship, I’d take it. After all, my time was almost up. I only had to play dumb until graduation. Then I could go to college, drop the charade, and be myself. I’d find a cute, smart girl and stop worrying that my head might be dunked in a toilet at any given moment.
“Right, my excellent teaching skills. So, Jayden, tell me what you struggle with.”
“I thought we were past the getting-to-know-you crap.” Jayden frowned.
I smirked. “I don’t mean how you struggle generally—that’s obvious. I mean, what are you struggling with, en español—in Spanish.”
Another glare. “Everything.” She huffed.
“That can’t be true if you have a C.”
Jayden sighed. “I guess I’m pretty bad at conjugating verbs, and I’m always thrown off by when to use the feminine version of a word and when to use the masculine version. I do okay with basic vocabulary on quizzes. When I have time to think about it. But remembering on the spot turns my brain to mush. Which means I suck at conversations. And understanding Mr. T’s lectures. And…”
She was starting to get flustered. I held up my hand. “Lo entiendo,” I barked softly, and Jayden clamped her mouth. But I wasn’t sure if it was my words or my tone that had shut her up. “Do you know what I just said?” I asked curiously.
“I understand?” she answered.
“I get you,” I corrected her. “But you were very close. I think the Spanish isn’t sticking because you’re stressed about it. You’ve convinced yourself that you can’t do it, so you can’t.”
“Thanks, Dr. Phil.”
“I’m being serious. What you need is an immersing experience with no pressure.”
“So, we’re going to Cuba this weekend?” Jayden asked sardonically.
“Don’t be silly. Miami is much closer.” I laughed as I waved her off. She rolled her eyes, but she smiled—without even trying to hide it. She was pretty when she smiled. Too bad she didn’t do it more often. Because at this rate, I’d be staring at her face every afternoon for the rest of the semester. “Miami can wait. Let me address your first problem. We can go from there.”
I proceeded to give a detailed explanation of when to use feminine nouns versus when to use masculine nouns. She diligently took notes and asked questions. I made her practice and quizzed her. Once we got into studying, she didn’t give me any crap. I was dumbfounded by how easily she turned off the sass. She was like a Sour Patch Kid, tart on the outside, but sweet once you wore her down. I’d never tutored anyone before. It w
as nice to have someone respect what I said, for a change.
We were lost in learning when a voice spoke from a few feet away. Startled, Jayden and I looked up at the same time, as if we’d been caught doing something naughty. It was stupid, but if people knew what was going on, it’d be bad for both of us. Well, our reputations, at least.
“Hey,” Becca greeted curtly.
I quickly thought of something Mike-ish to say. I didn’t know how much of our conversation she’d heard, but any was too much. “Sup, Becca Boo? How’s it hangin’?”
I held out my fist, and she bumped it lightly.
“I thought she was your boo?” Becca nodded toward Jayden without acknowledging her.
“There’s enough of this to go ’round,” I answered, waving my hand over my torso like a product model. “But, if homegirl wants to be my only boo, I think we could arrange a little sompin’ sompin’.” I winked and waited for Jayden to gag or make a rude comment, or kick me at the very least. But she remained quiet. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, and she was studying me intently. The wheels and cogs in her giant brain were working overtime.
“Maybe another day.” Becca cracked a smile before returning to ice. “Would you give Jayden a message for me?” Ouch. That was cold.
“Anything for you, bella dama,” I crooned. Still no reaction from Jayden.
“Will you tell her I’m ready to go? When she’s done here, she can meet me at my car.”
My eyes darted back to Jayden, waiting for a catfight to break out. Jayden kept her curious stare glued on me. I swear I’d never understand girls. Just when you thought you knew them, they’d throw you a curveball. Seemed there’d be no fight today.
“You got it, sweet thang.” I said to Becca, laying it on nice and thick.
“Thanks,” Becca replied, then left without saying good-bye to her best friend. Jayden sighed once Becca was out of earshot.
“Still in trouble, huh?” I smirked. She didn’t answer for a while.
“Seriously, though, why do you do that?” Jayden asked, completely ignoring my question.
“Do what?” I played dumb.
“You know what.”
“That’s my cue to leave.” I stood with a fake smile.
“But Mr. Thompson said we could have an extra fifteen minutes,” she whined, then admitted sheepishly, “And I was actually learning something this time.”
“¡Silencio!” I shushed her. “I get to call the shots in this relationship…er…partnership. And right now, you shouldn’t make Becca wait. You’re already in the doghouse.”
Jayden grumbled as she started packing her things. “How noble of you. Using my best interest to deflect.”
“Who said anything about deflecting?” I asked, then grinned playfully. “If Becca’s gonna be my boo, I gotta keep her happy. I’ma help any way I can.”
“Call me a cynic, but I don’t trust your sudden valor.” Jayden scrutinized, but the corner of her mouth tipped up as she threw her bag over her shoulder. She looked cocky and confident as she said, “Don’t matter. I’ma get it outch ya one a dese days.”
It took all the muscles in my face to keep my jaw from dropping. Jayden gave me a nod and walked toward the library door. I shook my head and chuckled to myself before calling out, “See, girl, I’m learning you good already.”
“Learning me well,” she corrected as she left, and I full-on laughed.
I rushed to practice, because at this point I was going to be fifteen minutes late anyway. I arrived just as the team was heading out to run one of our regular courses. Coach was sitting in his golf cart, ready to trail behind them. I tried to slip into the back of the group unnoticed, but Coach saw me and held up the bullhorn. He liked to correct us from the cart.
“A word, please, Michael.” His voice boomed. “The rest of you can go.”
The guys took off, and I walked over to Mr. Thompson. “Does this mean I get to ride in the cart today?” I gave him a toothy grin.
“Nope. I’m too much of a meanie for that.” He quoted Jayden, then asked, “Really?”
I winced. “Sorry, I needed an excuse.”
“An excuse for what? I already said you could be late for practice last week.”
“An excuse to leave tutoring early,” I admitted. “Coach, I can only handle Jayden in small doses. Do you understand how intense she is?”
“I’m aware of Ms. Valdez’s…” Coach paused in thought, searching for the right word, “difficult personality. But I don’t think she’s as…difficult as she comes across. She has a whole other side to her. Reminds me of someone else I know.” Coach looked at me pointedly. “I won’t pretend to understand why you behave the way you do. But I do think you guys could learn something from each other. Stick with the tutoring long enough to get something out of it.”
“But Coach,” I started to object, and he cut me off.
“No buts. I’m the coach. This isn’t a democracy, it’s a benevolent dictatorship. My word is law.” He said it with authority, but his tone was lighthearted. “Mr. McGinnes, I’m still waiting for the correct response.”
“Yes, Coach,” I answered with a sigh.
“Good. Now, you’re two minutes behind the rest of the team, and I still expect you to finish first. Better get a move on,” Mr. Thompson ordered, then stepped on the gas and left me in his dust. I stretched my legs quickly before taking off. Two minutes sounded like a lot, but over six miles, pulling ahead wouldn’t be a problem. Our team times were usually decent, but no one could come close to my individual times.
Later that night, after the twins were asleep and my homework was done, I took a long, hot shower to relax my aching muscles. Then I lay on the couch, waiting for my mom to get home. Jayden had been on my mind all afternoon, and I couldn’t focus on Sports Center. So, I shut off the television and picked up a book from the coffee table. It was one of Mom’s cheesy romance novels. I’d always wondered what women found appealing about all that sappy drivel.
Half an hour later, I was caught up in the story of a single woman whose next-door neighbor was handsome but arrogant. His date for an important dinner bailed on him, and he convinced her to go with him at the last minute. He was condescending…yada, yada, yada…she was snippy and sarcastic…yada, yada, yada…there was a confrontation when they got home…yada, yada, yada. Next thing I knew, they were making out on her couch.
Apparently, condescension and sarcasm were indicators of sexual tension. Hah! Not in the real world. Jayden and I had condescension and sarcasm down to a science. I highly doubted there’d be any making out on either of our couches.
I heard keys rattling in the lock, and I quickly shoved the book in the crack of the couch. My mom walked in, and I pretended to be asleep. “Mike, are you asleep?” she asked softly.
I answered with fake grogginess. “Almost. How was school?”
“It was school. I have some news.”
“Good news or bad news?”
“Both. Which do you want first?” she asked, plopping down on the end of the couch.
“Good news.”
“We’re doing classroom observations for the next two weeks. I’ll be working the morning shift at the library so I can get to class early in the afternoon. I’ll need help with the twins in the morning, but I’ll be home by five, which means you can have your evenings back for a while.”
“Nice.” I did a small fist pump, genuinely excited. “What’s the bad news?”
Mom bit her lip, so I knew it was bad. “Mrs. Dawes is going to be out of town next week, so I need you to come home after school and babysit.”
I freaked out. “I can’t, I have practice. And tutoring.” I added the tutoring part, hoping she’d see how important my after-school activities were.
“I know, and I’m really sorry. I’ll call Coach Thompson and explain. It’s just one week. It won’t kill you.”
“It might,” I grumbled. “Can’t you pay someone to watch them?”
“I cou
ld. Today was payday. But if I do, I won’t have enough money for those running shoes you need so badly.”
Dang it. She had me stuck between a rock and a hard place. I needed to practice, but I needed the shoes worse. Mine were literally falling apart. We had our regional meet in three weeks, and Coach was certain there’d be some college recruiters there. I figured a scholarship was the only way to continue my education. If I had to work my way through college, I’d be forty when I graduated.
“You can have the girl you’re tutoring come here after school.” My mom smiled when she made the offer. “If you promise to study Spanish and nothing else.” She threw me an exaggerated wink.
“Gross, Mom.”
She shrugged. “They don’t call Spanish a romance language for nothing. How are things going on the girl front, anyway?”
“Fine,” I lied.
“Do you have a date to homecoming?”
“Nope. I wasn’t going to go. You know, being broke and all.”
Mom stood and walked to her desk, picking up the fat piggy bank sitting on top. My stepdad was in the military, and he’d been deployed overseas for the last ten months. It was his second deployment in four years, and he still had five months left. She’d been saving every scrap of change she could find so they could take a vacation when he got back. Just the two of them.
“Mom, I can’t take your vacation money,” I insisted as she reached her fingers in and fished out a fifty-dollar bill. “Besides, I don’t have anyone I want to ask.”
“What about your tutoring friend?”
I scoffed. “Um, no. I’m not spending fifty bucks to be bullied all night.” Then, under my breath, I added, “Especially if it doesn’t lead to romantic tension and making out.”
“What was that?” Mom asked in confusion.
“Nothing.”
“Well, I want you to have it. I won’t take no for an answer. It’s your senior year, and you’ll regret it if you don’t go. I’m leaving the money on your dresser. I know it’s not enough for something fancy, but it’ll get you into the dance, and maybe some dinner, if you’re creative.” She patted my foot, then headed down the hall. “Don’t stay up too late. I love you.”
Perfectly Misunderstood (The Perfect Series Book 4) Page 5