I wrote in my journal: I’ve just got to figure out when Kenzie is coming, so I can snap her away.
***
At Sawyer’s house I could hear the band practicing in the basement, so I went into the house without knocking. Trista was in the kitchen getting a soda. She did a double take when I came in, then smiled. “How was your first day at good old Roosevelt ?”
“Not as bad as I imagined,” I lied. The creepy shadow and Kenzie popping up were as bad as I’d imagined, but no way was I going to tell her about that. Or the fact I might spontaneously start chopping up people, myself included. No, I’d save that for another day. “Thanks.” I took the soda she offered, trying to be all friendly and I’m-totally-normal-like. So, I opened up and shared things I wouldn’t normally. “It was nice having Sawyer and the rest of you around. Whenever I saw one of you walking down the halls it was comforting, you know? Like I wasn’t totally alone in the huge school of strangers.”
“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” She smiled. “It’s nice to belong to a group.”
“Yeah, it is.” I was tempted to just end the conversation there—on a happy note and trot on downstairs, listen to the guys. But I decided to practice my “confiding skills.” Since friends did that—confided things. Not bloody, chopping-out-your-heart things, but things. So, I took a sip of my soda and went on. “It was kind of weird seeing the guys at school, though. I mean around other people. Girls kept flirting with Sawyer.”
“Oh, I know, it’s sick, huh?” She laughed. “Unfortunately, that’s the way it is, though—if you date a guy from The Clutch. They’re considered rock stars or whatever at school. It’s like they have a bunch of sleazy groupies after them. Be glad you’re dating Sawyer, not Jeremy—girls maul him.”
Ouch. Still, I knew it was true. I tried acting unscathed, nonchalant even. “I bet.”
Trista took a sip of her soda. “I guess I should warn you, if you think the girls are bad at school, wait until you see them at parties where the guys perform—they’re unbelievable.”
“Great.” I’d never really considered myself a jealous person before, but then, I’d never had to be. It bit. I didn’t want to have to deal with it. Drama—I had enough of it in my life as it was. No more, thanks.
“Don’t be too worried about it,” Trista said. “Sawyer’s totally into you.” She downed her soda and got another one. “You make a cute couple.”
Instead of going downstairs to listen to the band, which I was dying to do, I did the friend-thing and followed Trista into the study to keep her company. When I asked her what she was doing, she said she was typing up a paper for Jeremy.
Weird. “You type Jeremy’s papers?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “I don’t mind. He helps me in classes too. The band helps each other out.” She sat at the computer and started typing. She was blazingly fast. No wonder she didn’t mind typing for others; she had bionic fingers. “It’s really quiet today,” she said. “Usually there are all kinds of people around for the practices. But most of that was Eve. She always came with a mob of friends.” Trista sighed, content. “Enjoy the quiet while you can. Eve and Zack always get back together.”
I nodded, saying nothing
When Trista finished Jeremy’s paper, we headed down to the basement. But at the bottom of the stairs, I froze. I could hear singing. The voice made my heart jump to my throat. Funny, I’d never thought to ask Sawyer who sang in the band.
I stood frozen on the stairs, listening to the beautiful raspy voice, unable to move.
Trista turned back to me. “What’s the matter? Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, my heart pounding in my throat. “That’s Jeremy singing.”
She smiled. “He’s wonderful, huh?”
I swallowed. “Look, I can’t go down there.” I raced back up the stairs.
“Jodi!” Trista followed at my heels. “Wait.”
I didn’t though. I didn’t wait. I ran up to the kitchen and plowed down at the table, resting my head on its hard, solid surface.
“Boy, you’ve really got it bad, haven’t you?”
“What are talking about?” I wished she would go away so I could wallow in my agony alone. Hearing Jeremy sing had caught me off guard. Jeremy played the guitar, he didn’t sing—or so I thought. Obviously, I was wrong. Dead wrong. Jeremy had the voice of an angel, a rock star. No wonder The Clutch was so popular.
“You still love him,” Trista said as she sat down beside me. Her voice was wary. “It’s been all these years, and yet you both still love each other.”
“I don’t love him!” Where did she come up with that? “I was just surprised to hear him singing. I never heard him before.” I laid my head back on the table. “I thought he played the guitar.”
“He does. He and Sawyer both.”
“Well, that’s all it was,” I said, practically begging her to believe me. “I was just surprised.”
“Okaaay,” she said slowly. “I guess I misunderstood.” She smirked as she said it though; I knew she didn’t believe me.
“I’m with Sawyer.”
“I know.” She sounded sympathetic. “It seems like you really like him too. You’re in a weird situation, huh?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “You really think I still love Jeremy?”
“Yeah, I do. And I think he still loves you too. Actually, I think you’re the only girl he’s ever loved.”
Though I tried acting indifferent, I listened intently, gobbling up her words. She seemed like the kind of person with a lot of insight—like it was possible she knew what she was talking about. Only maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part. I wanted her to be right. I wanted Jeremy to still love me—to have never stopped. She was saying exactly what I wanted to hear.
“I’m going to tell you something,” Trista said confidentially. “I’ve kind of had a crush on Jeremy ever since I moved here in the fifth grade, and I’ve always kept tabs on him, you know?—watched him from a distance. When you popped up—into his life—I was so jealous, not that either of you even knew I was alive, but still, I was jealous. I watched your little love affair with fanatical interest—like you guys were a soap opera.” Her eyes glazed with a strange gleam. “Seeing you two so much in love was so sweet it hurt. I mean I literally ached when I’d see you together. I wanted to be loved like that. So bad. I mean, it was so romantic. The way it seemed, the two of you were so in love you were completely oblivious to the rest of the world, and all of us normal, boring people who went to school with you.”
I bit my lip. That was exactly the way it had been for Jeremy and me. As far as we were concerned there was no one else in the world, only the two of us. But still, I couldn’t help staring at Trista, dumbstruck that she knew so much about us—that she had watched us. But what was just as amazing was her confession about having a crush on Jeremy since the fifth grade. That, and the fact she was dating one of his best friends. It made me realize I didn’t know Trista at all. To me, she and Micah seemed like the perfect couple.
Well, they had seemed that way. Now I wasn’t so sure. I remembered how she had kissed Jeremy the night of the party. To Jeremy, it seemed totally wrong. To her, maybe not so much.
Trista laughed, flushing. “Don’t be so shocked. I love Micah. That’s real. What I feel for Jeremy—it’s different. It’s more like idolism or something. You know, he’s a special boy. I mean besides being the sexiest guy to ever walk the planet, there’s this restless quietness about him.” She gave a dreamy smile. “It drives me wild.”
All I could do was stare at her. I couldn’t believe she was being so honest with me. I never, ever admitted weird feelings aloud, ever. Still, of course, I understood what she meant—totally. Jeremy had never been much of a talker, not even when I used to live with him. But he was able to say so much with his eyes, more than any normal person could possibly communicate through speech. I’d always found that form of expression hot, but obviously so had Trista. She was sort of a … stalker.<
br />
“You used to date him,” I choked. “Isn’t that what you said the other night at Eve’s party?”
“Yeah, I did—kind of—for a while last year.” She flushed again. “I don’t think you could really call it dating though. He let me hang around him while he was between girls. That was about the extent of our relationship. I met Micah during that time though—at their practices. He was really nice and sweet. Jeremy told me one night that Micah had a crush on me. He sort of suggested I go out with him. That’s how we ended up together.” She clutched her soda can in a death-grip, then gave a weak smile. “But I’m happy with the way things turned out.” Her smile faltered and she bit her lip. “I really am. I love Micah.”
“Well, it seems like you do,” I said, only now I was less certain about it.
“I do,” Trista said. “I love him. But I still have weird feelings for Jeremy too”—then she added quickly, as though making sure I understood we were in the same boat—“and so do you. The difference between me and you though, is he loves you back.”
“No he doesn’t,” I moaned. “It’s just a game. He and Sawyer are just playing a game. They’re, like, competing with each other.”
“Are you talking about the other night at the party?”
I nodded. The other night at the party—and always.
“Yeah, they were playing games,” she agreed. “Guys—they’re so dumb. But something else was going on with Jeremy that night too. It seemed like he wanted you to think he was only playing a game, but he winced every time you looked at Sawyer. And I saw how he gazed at you when you weren’t looking. He still loves you, Jodi. Trust me, I’m an expert on the subject of Jeremy. I’ve been studying him for like, ever.”
She said all this so matter-of-fact and certain that I almost believed her. Almost. She’d known Jeremy a long time, and having watched him so closely for so many years, it seemed possible she might actually understand his mind. But the idea was too romantic—too what I wanted to hear. And Jeremy had too many girls chasing after him to even have time to stop and think about just one—a specific one. Besides, he hadn’t come to see me once the entire time I moved back to his house. Not once. If he cared for me even half as much as Trista seemed to believe, he would have put out at least some kind of effort to see me. But he hadn’t put out any, none at all.
And when he finally came to the house—finally—it was only to get his dog. And he brought a girl with him. No, he didn’t have feelings for me. He didn’t. Unless they were resentment. And hate.
I didn’t want to think about it anymore. It was too damaging. It gave me a headache, and a heartache, and all kinds of aches.
“Let’s make cookies,” I said, not wanting to talk about Jeremy anymore, but still too messed up to go downstairs and hear him sing.
I made chocolate chip cookies while Trista made snickerdoodles, as that was Micah’s favorite. Interestingly enough, it was Jeremy’s favorite too. But Trista didn’t mention that. And neither did I. Instead, I said, “I guess we won’t be making peanut butter cookies, huh?”
Trista gave me a startled look, gritting her teeth. But then she breathed out a little laugh. “No. I guess not.”
We were just pulling the first batch out of the oven when we heard the guys scrambling up the stairs.
Micah made it to the kitchen first. “Mmm. What smells so good?”
Trista stood on her tiptoes to kiss her tall boyfriend. “Treats.”
“Smells good.” Sawyer came up second, putting his arms around me. “I thought I heard you up here. Why didn’t you come down and hear us?”
Unable to answer, I kissed him lightly, feeling guilty. To top it off, just then, Jeremy came bounding up the stairs. He took a big whiff. “Cookies!” he smiled. Then his gaze fell on me. “Hi, Jodi.”
My heart exploded.
“Hi,” I whispered back, kind of hiding behind Sawyer. Suddenly, it was weird, I felt … shy. I guess because of all that stuff Trista said—about him loving me. Plus, I hadn’t seen him since lunch when I learned he used to date girls that looked like me, talked like me. And then, you know, hearing him sing so hot. It was all a little over the top.
Jeremy tilted his head, eyeing me quizzically. “Are you afraid of me?”
“No,” I choked. “Of course not.”
“She said as she cowers behind Sawyer,” Zack commentated with an amused laugh.
Jeremy stood unmoving, still watching me. “That’s okay,” he said softly. “I guess I’m a scary guy—your mom thinks so anyway.”
“The cookies are cooling,” Trista said, obviously trying to change the subject. “Guys, go back downstairs and finish practicing. We’ll bring down the cookies when they’re ready.”
Each of the guys swiped a piping hot cookie before heading back to the basement. Then Trista and I put the rest of the cookies on a tray and poured out a pitcher of milk to take downstairs.
Down in the basement, the guys were busy playing when we came in. I avoided looking at Jeremy, but I could feel his eyes on me as Trista and I arranged the goodies on the Ping-Pong table. My heart was pounding so loud I was afraid everyone could hear. It made me kind of shaky. Get a grip, I tried telling myself. But it was hard. Jeremy sounded so good, so sexy. Ugh! I needed a cold shower.
Still, I tried to act chipper and in control, smiling over at Sawyer, focusing on him—only him, trying to pretend Jeremy wasn’t even in the room. Trista and I pulled up chairs near the band’s platform. The whole time, I kept my eyes glued on Sawyer. There is no Jeremy, no Jeremy, no Jeremy. But I couldn’t help it, his voice was so tender and sweet, I snuck a quick look at him—just a peek. But just as I pretty much knew would happen, once I looked, I was gone. My brain melted away, turned to sap. Jeremy was looking straight at me, melting my heart, not just my brain. It was as though he was singing to me, only me. That no one else was even in the room. Or the world. There was just Jeremy and me. I was lost in a trance for the rest of the song—the entire song.
When it was over, the guys took a break.
“We could smell these while they were baking,” Zack said, biting into a chocolate chip cookie. “We were going wild.”
Trista smiled, putting on her jacket. “Incentive for a good practice,” she said, heading for the stairs. “I’ve got to go.” She turned back, eyeing a certain someone—not her boyfriend. “Jeremy your paper’s on the kitchen table.”
“Hey, thanks.” Jeremy held his cup of milk up to her. “You’re great.”
“You, too.” She beamed back at him as Micah walked her upstairs, headed to her car. I watched them with new eyes now that I knew about the whole Trista-stalking-Jeremy thing. It all seemed pretty weird, but Micah didn’t seem to mind, or even notice, actually.
When Trista was gone, Jeremy came over and stood beside Sawyer and me, staring at me as I tried to ignore him. “So, what’d you think?” he asked, stepping between us, making me look at him.
“You were really good.” I took a step away, my cheeks flaming hot. “You were all really good.” I emphasized the “all,” embarrassed that once I looked at Jeremy I’d forgotten anyone else was in the room. I hoped no one had noticed.
But Zack smirked. “You seemed to think some of us were better than others,” he commented, helping himself to another cookie.
“That’s okay,” Sawyer said, putting his arm around me. “The singer always gets the attention when he’s singing—I get the attention when he’s not.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Jeremy said, but he still looked amused.
Apparently, everyone had noticed. Grrr!
When Micah came back, The Clutch started practicing again. They were working on a song they just recently put together. It was loud and rockin’, unlike the soft, romantic one they’d been playing when I first came down. This one I felt more comfortable listening to. I didn’t get all spazzy.
The band was having trouble with one spot, trying it over and over. Everyone was getting frustrated. Suddenly Jeremy started playing
a completely different song. The rest of the band quickly followed his lead. The music was sad and haunting and beautiful. As Jeremy started to sing, the words wrenched my heart, caused me pain. It was the song Eve had talked about at the poker game, “Little Jodi.”
“But in my dreams little Jodi comes to me,” Jeremy sang, “through the smoke and rain. She holds out her hands, she calls to me, she takes away my pain . . .”
I tried to concentrate on the beautiful words, keep from crying. But something was happening. My mind—it was drifting away. Going. I couldn’t keep it, couldn’t hold on. Too late, I reached for my rubber bands. Too late, tried to snap. Too late …
***
… Jeremy wanted me to drink. He held a glass up to my lips, coaxing me. “Just drink a little. Take a sip.”
I backed away from him, confused. I had no idea why he wanted me to drink the water, but what had me even more disturbed was, we were in Sawyer’s bathroom. What was I doing here? How’d I get here?
I knew I had been Kenzie. Of course I had been Kenzie. Ugh! Knowing that had my heart all violent and twisty, but what really had me shaking was fear that Jeremy knew.
Chills ran down my spine. Did he know? The last thing I remembered was being down in the basement, listening to The Clutch practice and … that’s it—all I could remember. I bit my lip, reaching for my rubber bands. But they weren’t there. Weren’t around my wrists. Why?
Sawyer was in the doorway, watching Jeremy and me. He sounded irritated. “Kenzie, just drink the water.”
The blood drained out of my face. Kenzie. He called me Kenzie.
That meant … Jeremy knew.
Why hadn’t I been thinking? Ready? I had felt Kenzie coming in the basement—actually felt it—but I reacted too late. I’d been in a stupor, a pathetic trance—gawking over Jeremy and his song. Stupid, stupid. I rubbed at my tender, swollen wrists. Rubbed and rubbed, mad at myself.
“Oh—wait—Jodi, stop.” Jeremy put down the cup of water, reaching in the front pocket of his jeans. He took out a handful of rubber bands, a mound of them that had been around my wrists. He gazed soberly down at the mess, then quickly held them out to me. “She didn’t want them. She said they hurt.”
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