Sublime Karma

by Peyton Garver

  Jake laughed, shoving a forkful of pancakes into his mouth. Nabbed.

  His dad’s eyes danced with the beginning of his own grin, but he quickly lost it. “That’s enough, Jake.”

  “What’s going on?” Teagan asked.

  “Nothing. Your brother’s testing limits. And, I think he knows just where the limit is right now.”

  At his dad’s stern voice, Jake lowered his eyes and nodded. Game over.

  “I’ve got to get going. There’s another delivery coming in this morning, and I’m already running late.” His dad poured his coffee into a travel mug. “You two have everything under control?”

  “Yep. I call lunches. Jake, you have clean-up.” Teagan blurted.

  “Gee, thanks,” Jake groaned. “Wait, Dad. Can I use the car Thursday night? It’s the school bonfire.”

  His father stopped at the door. “C’mere, outside on the porch, Jake.”

  Oh, shit. Jake glanced back at Teagan, on his way out. Standing in front of his dad, Jake pressed his lips together.

  His dad frowned. “You saw me with Gia last night? In the driveway?”

  Jake nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “You didn’t tell . . . or text Ari, did y—”

  “No.” Jake scowled, shaking his head. Not yet. She’s pissed at me for some reason. And, what would I say, anyway? I saw my dad kissing your mom while I snuck out of your window this morning. Yeah, right.

  Adam hesitated. “I’ll work something out with the schedules at the pub so you can take the car. But, I want the lawn mowed before you go to the bonfire. You can do the Amato’s lawn Saturday. All right, I’ve got to get going. Keep a lid on that other thing, Jake. I mean it.”

  “Yes, sir. Uh, Dad? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve done that in front of Teagan.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have. So, watch what you say when you go back in.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jake nodded. Enthusiasm gone, he sauntered back inside and started loading the sticky, syrup covered, breakfast dishes into the dishwasher.

  “What did you do? Why was Dad so mad?” Her tone was curious, but eager.

  “Teag, drop it.” He put on his best scowl.

  “Jake, pleeease tell me what happened. What was so funny?”

  “I said drop it.” He cringed at the harshness of his voice and turned away from her to start the dishwasher. He stopped when his cell phone vibrated on the kitchen counter. “Hey, what’s up, Troy?”

  Teagan listened while she dropped a granola bar into both lunch packs.

  “Nah, I’m good. I’ll take the bus . . . Yeah, I’m sure . . . all right . . . Oh, yeah, I left my equipment bag in your trunk. . . . Yeah, sorry. It’s probably ripe . . . Yeah, a’right . . . later, man.” He pocketed his phone.

  “How come you don’t wanna ride with Troy? I thought you hated the bus.”

  “It’s not so bad. Besides, Troy’s always late, and you know what Dad’ll be like if he finds out I was late to school.”

  “Yeah, good call. Take the bus.” She pushed his lunch across the counter toward him.

  Jake grinned. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she nodded, still holding onto her melancholy pout.

  He hated making her think he was mad. He snatched the dishtowel from the counter, gave it a quick twist, then flicked it at her, snapping it just short of her.

  “Jake!” she squealed, jumping back.

  He rewarded her with his mischievous grin, gave her a wink, grabbed his lunch and backpack, and minutes later, dropped onto his seat on the bus. He checked his phone again. Still no text from Ari. Whatever.

  He fidgeted with his phone until the bus slowed at Brie’s stop. He peered out the bus window, and when he saw her, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips—until he noticed Becca watching him from across the aisle. He glanced at the phone in her hand and then narrowed his eyes at her. Always in everyone else’s business. No wonder Kal’s had enough of her. Fine, let her tell everyone the new girl sits with me on the bus. That could actually work in my favor.

  When he looked up, Brie was making her way down the aisle of the crowded bus. She pressed her lips together and slowed when she neared Jake. Just like yesterday, the space next to him was the only unoccupied spot. He didn’t challenge her as he had last time. Instead, with his subtle charming smile, he hooked up his backpack and stood.

  She slipped by him, just as she had yesterday. Then, with her backpack on her lap, and her feet propped up on the wheel-well hump, she stared out of the bus window.

  His smile faded. She’s not even gonna look at me? Should’ve said hi, or something. But, no, instead I just stand there with a stupid grin. He cleared his throat and shot a glance at the back of her head. Still nothing?

  He sat closer to her than necessary, and let his arm rest against her. She didn’t pull away. He smiled. Well, that’s something anyway.

  Hellooo . . . I’m not the ass you think I am. He considered that thought. Okay, well maybe I am, but not always. He sighed, settling back in his seat. With his eyes now closed, he detected a faint, fresh, citrusy, floral scent. Another smile tugged at the corners of his lips. I’m crushing, and she has no clue. His chest tightened. Was she playing hard to get? Or, maybe he just didn’t exist to her at all, like he was invisible, a nothing. That had to be it.

  With his head still leaning back on the seat, he turned to look at her, again. She’s oblivious. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I just talk to her? He cleared his throat again, wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, drew in a deep breath, and exhaled. I got nothing. I’ve gotta fix this.

  The bus pulled into the school lot. Before it stopped, Jake stood, blocking Becca, to let Brie out first. He spotted Sarah and Pam waiting outside the bus. With their smug looks and the way their eyes followed her, it was obvious they were talking about Brie as she passed by.

  “Hi, Jake!” they called.

  He lifted his chin in a single nod, but walked past. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw them pull Becca into their huddle. Like they’re not up to something.

  “Uh, hello?” Brie said to the guy standing in front of her locker, but then she froze.

  He looked over his shoulder. “Um, I’m almost done. It’s coming off easier than I thought it would.”

  Why? Who would . . .? Brie’s eyes darted from him to the locker. He had wiped away most of the “S” and “L,” but the letters “UT” were still visible, scrawled across her locker. He turned back to finish his task.

  Her face flushed hot. She felt people’s eyes on her, but dared not turn to look. Massaging the scars on her hand, she moved closer to him, blocking the view of her locker from anyone passing by.

  “There, all done,” he turned to face her.

  She forced a smile. “Ian, right? History, seventh period?” She lowered her backpack to the ground in front of her locker.

  “Yeah, Ian Morris.” His soft brown eyes held hers.

  “Thanks, Ian Morris,” she murmured. He stepped back to make room for her. But, she didn’t move toward her locker. Her forced smile turned genuine, reaching her eyes. She snapped her fingers and pointed at his shirt, laughing. “I know that. French Connection UK right?”

  “You’ve heard of it, really? My mum hates it.”

  Plastered across the front of his sweatshirt in bold black letters was: F-C-U-K. She thought it weird how he appeared trendy with his vogue Ray-Ban glasses, yet at the same time kind of nerdish, with a few scraggy chin hairs, aquiline nose, and thick, dark brown hair that was in dire need of a cut and style. Everything about him seemed contradictory, like his personalities were fighting with each other. But, there was something endearing about him. Maybe it was his soft, chocolate brown eyes and shy smile, or maybe it was his slight British accent. Was it real?

  He sh
rugged, putting his hand sanitizer back into his pocket along with the small packet of tissues. “It wasn’t permanent marker. If it had been, we would have had to use acetone.” He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

  “Ossitone?” she repeated.

  “I guess you might say ass-itone. You know. Fingernail polish remover?” He shrugged. “It was Sarah and Pam.”

  She almost smiled, Pom? But, instead asked, “Sarah and Pam?” Trying to put faces with the names, she failed.

  He motioned across the hall. “Even though Sarah’s locker is a couple down from mine, they didn’t notice me over there when they did this. Or, maybe they just didn’t care. I’m a nobody to them. But, that’s okay, I think I prefer it that way. As a matter-of-fact, half the student body is a nobody to them. Though, it seems you’ve got their attention. But, I’m so not sure that’s a good thing—”

  “Ian, thank you,” she blinked at his thinking out loud. He was attracting attention. “And, you’re not a nobody.” Surprising herself, she took a step closer and reached out to touch him, resting her hand on his bicep. She drew in her breath. She had thought him scrawny, but under his oversized sweatshirt, he felt much more solid than he looked. Actually, he felt ripped. Who would’ve known? Maybe he really did prefer to be unnoticed.

  Staring into each other’s eyes, a smile graced both their faces. It was as though they shared a secret. Just as she wondered at that thought, Jake rounded the corner with three of his friends.

  “Oh, oh-oh man.” one of them laughed, looking over his shoulder as the group passed by. “She is a hella hottie. What is she doin’ with him? I thought he was a queer.”

  Brie scowled at the group.

  “She just don’t know anyone yet,” another said with a shrug.

  Jake shot her a questioning gaze.

  Her face warmed and she looked back at Ian. “Don’t listen to them. They’re jerks.”

  “Thanks.” Furrowing his brow, he watched the group disappear.

  Brie shrugged. “I should be the one saying thank you.”

  “You did.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Brie opened her locker then looked down the hall. “I did,” her voice trailed. Two girls at the lockers next to hers giggled. Brie rolled her eyes at them. I guess I’m the pariah of Frederick Central High. I hate this place.

  Ian must have noticed them, too. “Brie? What’s going on?”

  “Huh? What do you mean?” She pulled out her binder, hung up her backpack, and shut her locker door.

  “Come on. Remember? I told you, I’m a nobody. And, right now? We’re the main event. Well, you are anyway,” he said when a few guys slowed to give Brie the once over.

  Hugging her binder in front of her, Brie took a step back.

  “Want some popcorn?” Ian asked them, stepping between them and Brie.

  “Nah, but I like the show.” one rallied, walking away backward still ogling Brie.

  “They’re assholes, but they’re not usually that ignorant.”

  “It wasn’t like this yesterday. It started today as soon as I got off the bus. A couple of girls were waiting for this other girl, Becca, who rides my bus. I think they were talking about me.”

  “Becca’s one of Sarah’s friends.”

  “But, why? I don’t even know them.”

  “Who knows? They’re just bitchy.”

  “I don’t buy it,” she said as the warning bell sounded.

  “Uh, Brie, I’ve got to get to my Journalism class. You’re okay?” he asked, hesitant to leave.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Brie shrugged. “I’ve got Sociology first period. Um . . .” She looked up and down the hall, then laughed. “This school is so big. I forgot where it is.”

  “Do you know the room number?”

  “Two-twenty-six,” she said, looking back at her schedule card.

  “Two-twenty-six? Second floor. Stairwell’s that way,” he said, walking away from her backward and pointing behind her.

  “Oh, thanks.” She laughed and made an about face.

  Brie spotted Jake already seated in the back of the classroom, and when her eyes met his, she faltered. Agitated, she looked away, took her seat, and focused on the teacher who was collecting their latest theme paper.

  “Jake, do you have a question?” Miss Moore asked. Brie looked to the back of the room to see Jake lowering his raised hand.

  “Uh, yeah.” Jake flashed their teacher his charming smile. Having forgotten his theme paper, Jake swore to his teacher that it was in his locker, and he could have it back to her in less than three minutes after class if she would still accept it—without giving him a late grade.

  Brie watched him negotiate with Miss Moore. Got to give him credit. That was pretty smooth.

  “All right, Jake. Three minutes,” Miss Moore said, laughing. “But, you have to tell me the title and thesis of your paper right now.”

  Ugh, really? Brie’s eyes cut back to Jake.

  “‘The Vogueness of Nonconformity.’ Nonconformity has become the ultimate conformity,” he said, still smiling.

  Huh? What does that even mean? Vogueness of Nonconformity? Give me a break.

  “Oh, I can’t wait to read it,” Miss Moore purred.

  Oh, puke. Are you kidding me? Brie rolled her eyes.

  When the bell rang, Jake bolted toward the door, crossed the threshold, and disappeared.

  Brie followed the rest of the students out of the classroom.

  “Brie!”

  “Ian? What are you doing here?” Brie’s smile faded. “Is something wrong?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, kind of.” He motioned her away from the door and handed her a folded paper. “I thought you should know.”

  She unfolded the paper. “What is it?”

  “That’s the front page of the online Falcon Report.”

  “What?” She focused on the picture. “The front page? That’s me at cross-country practice.” No, this cannot be happening. She looked up from the article and scanned the crowded hall. “Ian . . .” She shook her head. “I didn’t—”

  “Somehow, someone posted it last night. It’s someone’s idea of a prank. This edition wasn’t supposed to post till this afternoon. It wasn’t even finished. Anyway, the principal is holding the whole class—”

  “The New Girl: She Thinks She’s All That,” Brie murmured, reading the article title. Shaking her head, she looked at Ian and then back at the photograph, a close-up of her from behind, doing her pre-run stretches. Bent over, with her legs straight and spread, her derrière was stuck up in the air. The caption read, “Come and Get It! You Know You Want Some!”

  “Is it still online?” she managed, her eyes still on the picture.

  “It’s not. But, there were some hits on the site last night and this morning. Word must have got out. Brie, are you all right?” He leaned closer, gently shaking her arm. “Brie?”

  “I’m sorry. Wh-What did you say?”

  “Are you all right?” he asked just above a whisper.

  “No! I’m not!” she hissed. “First my locker, now this? Does everybody know?” She glanced around the crowded hall. Were people watching?

  “I don’t think so. I mean, I caught it pretty quick, and I reported it. I’m not really up on what everybody knows. But, most everyone in the Journalism class acted like they had no clue about it.” He sighed, his hand still on her arm. “But, they do now.”

  “Ian, I didn’t say any of this,” she choked out, looking at the article. “No one interviewed me for these quotes. I would never have said any of this.” Her face flushed warm.

  She looked up to see Jake, hurrying back with the paper he’d promised Miss Moore. He slowed at the door, giving Brie and Ian another puzzled look.

  “Yeah, I
know. People don’t say things like that about themselves.” Ian watched Jake disappear into the classroom. “It’s got to be those girls who wrote on your locker, the ones you saw at the bus, Sarah and Pam. And, Becca. Becca’s in my Journalism class.”

  He checked his watch. “I’ve got to get back to that room. I said I had to go to the bathroom. But, you’re going to be late for class. I’ll see you seventh period.” Then he took off.

  Finally, fifth period Art, her favorite. Brie headed straight to the wing on the opposite side of the school.

  Recognizing the group of guys gathered around the open locker midway down the hall, she stopped. Jake. You’ve got to be kidding me. He’s like . . . everywhere. Even from the back, she knew it was him, and those were definitely his friends from this morning.

  She skimmed the group from where she stood. There was a girl with them, one of the girls from this morning, the one with long red hair. Brie was certain she was one of the girls waiting for Becca at her bus this morning. She shuddered. Was it Sarah? Or, who was the other one, Pam? She was talking to a guy who was leaning against a locker, his back to the rest of the group. Brie looked back at the girl. She was pretty in a wholesome sort of way, but at the same time looked flirty in her ballerina flats, tapered jeans, and cropped top. She held her books against her hip that she stuck out just enough to give the boy a peek at her midriff. She flipped back her long, silky hair and looked coyly up at him as if there was no one else around.

  The rest of the guys were standing near Jake, and even though he was rummaging around in his locker, Brie could hear him laughing with them. Processing the scene, she realized she would have to pass by them—the whole crew.

  “Brie?” came a familiar voice from close behind her.

  “Oh . . . uh . . . Ryan. Hey.”

  “Your class down this way?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I was just checking my schedule. I have Art now.”