Chase smiled weakly. “Okay, okay . . . I can take a hint.”
“I hope we can still be friends.” Chelsea smiled back.
Chase brightened. “Sure. In fact, my dad is always saying that all good romantic relationships start with good friendships.”
Chelsea exchanged glances with Janelle, then shrugged.
“So what are you girls up to today?” Chase asked.
“I’m still unpacking things.” Chelsea pointed over to the partially filled box of books.
“Need some help?”
“No thanks,” Chelsea said quickly. “I can handle it.”
Chase slowly stood. “Like I said, I can take a hint.”
Chelsea smiled. “I appreciate the offer, Chase. It’s just that I have to figure out which stuff goes where. I don’t really need help. Okay?”
“It’s okay.” He grinned. “See you girls around then.”
Janelle gave a halfhearted finger wave, inviting him to see himself out, and Chelsea merely said, “Bye-bye,” and then he was gone.
Chelsea turned to Janelle. “I’m sorry about that. I honestly wasn’t trying to start anything with him.”
“I know.” Janelle sighed. “Chase is just like that. Some people think he’s a total jerk. Sometimes I do too. But he was my first boyfriend . . . I guess that makes me a little soft when it comes to him.”
Chelsea considered this. “Maybe you’re too soft.”
Janelle nodded. “Yeah . . . probably.”
“So are we still friends?” Chelsea asked.
“Sure.” Janelle went over to the box of books. “You really don’t want some help with this?”
“Actually, I’d love help. I just didn’t want Chase’s help.”
Janelle laughed. “How about I unpack and hand them to you, and you put them away?”
“Sounds good.”
They worked together, and Chelsea could tell they were moving more than twice as fast as Chelsea would have by herself. “My mom used to say that many hands make light work.”
“Are your parents divorced?”
Chelsea explained the situation, and Janelle was very sympathetic. “That must’ve been hard.”
Chelsea nodded as she knelt down to fit the last of the books on the bottom shelf. “Yeah. I think losing my mom made it even easier for me to sort of fade into the woodwork at school. It’s like I wanted to just stop existing.”
Janelle placed a hand on Chelsea’s shoulder. “Well, it’s definitely time for you to start existing. And I’m sorry I was so jealous of you.”
“You were jealous of me?” Chelsea stood and stared at Janelle.
Janelle laughed. “Duh. Wasn’t it obvious?”
Chelsea thought about it. “Well, I did wonder. But honestly, this is still new to me. Have you ever heard about amputees who have phantom pain after losing a limb?”
Janelle nodded with a confused expression.
“Sometimes I can relate to that. It’s like I still have phantom pain from all those years of feeling like a misfit, and I forget that it’s not who I am anymore.”
“I get it. Kind of like BDD. I mean body dysmorphic disorder.”
“You mean when skinny girls look in the mirror and think they’re fat?”
“It’s more than just that. I actually did a report on it for health last year. BDD includes all kinds of things. It is about perception—rather, misperception—but someone with BDD can be obsessed about anything from a few zits to some extra weight or a crooked nose. They see these things as far worse than they really are and go to all kinds of extremes, including plastic surgery, to fix them. They don’t understand that the problem is in their head, not their body.”
Chelsea remembered how she used to obsess over her bad complexion, her lack of breasts, and a multitude of other things. What if she had BDD? “How does a person know that she, uh, has this disorder?”
Janelle looked thoughtful. “Let me see if I can remember the symptoms. Obviously any preoccupation with your looks or thinking that something’s wrong with you or that everyone else is prettier. And if you look in the mirror all the time or you’re always primping and trying to look perfect. Or avoiding socializing. Why?”
Chelsea frowned. “I just hope I don’t have it.”
Janelle shook her head. “You seem pretty confident to me. At the barbecue, you were, like, the belle of the ball.”
“Really?” Chelsea pushed a strand of hair from her face. “That’s not how I felt.”
“Well, maybe you’re a better actress than you think.”
Chelsea chuckled. “Guess I should go out for drama after all.”
“For sure. And speaking of school, I wanted to do some back-to-school shopping tomorrow. Are you interested?”
Chelsea shrugged. “I’m not really much of a shopper.”
“Really? Well, you could’ve fooled me by the outfit you had on yesterday. That was pretty hot. And after I told you the barbecue was casual too. I was wondering how you’d look if you were really trying.”
Chelsea grinned sheepishly. “My dad’s fiancée helped me to shop. She’s really good at it. You should see my closet.”
“Okay!”
“Seriously? You want to see my closet?”
“Sure.”
They trekked upstairs, and Chelsea showed Janelle her room and her closet. “I guess there’s still a lot of room in it,” she admitted. “But this is the best my closet has ever looked.”
“Wow.” Janelle walked around, looking at everything. “Your future stepmom really has superb taste. You’re lucky, Chelsea.”
“Yeah. Kate is pretty cool.”
“And you like her?”
“Absolutely. I mean, I didn’t at first. But when I got to know her, she was more like a friend than a mom.”
“Cool.” Janelle took out the Kate Spade purse. “This is awesome. It must’ve cost a fortune.”
Chelsea told her about the designer discount outlet store. “It’s called Best 4 Less.”
“I’ve heard of it. Is it any good?”
Chelsea admitted that her dad worked for the company. “I get a nice discount on top of the reduced prices, which means some awesome deals. But if you shop at the right times, like after a new shipment arrives, you can score some cool stuff too.” Suddenly she had an idea. “Hey, why don’t we go together sometime? I could let you use my discount. I mean, as long as I purchase the item, then you pay me back.” Chelsea assumed that since it was okay to do that with Kate, it would be okay to do it with Janelle too, but maybe she would check with her dad to be sure.
“That would be fabulous.”
“I’ll check to see when the new shipments come in at the local stores.”
“Cool.” Janelle held up a BCBG top. “Too bad we’re not the same size. We could do clothes swapping.” She chuckled. “Of course, I don’t have nearly as cool of stuff as you do.” She tapped a purse. “But then there are the one-size-fits-all items too.”
Chelsea was unsure. It had been so long since she’d played the friend game that she didn’t quite know what was expected, so she just exited the closet. Grabbing her mom’s old guitar, she sat down on the bed and started to pick around on it.
“Wow, you play guitar?” Janelle sat down in the chair across from the bed.
“Not very well. My mom had just started teaching me before she died. I took some lessons for a while, then I started playing on my own. I’m sure someone who really knows how to play would laugh.”
“I don’t know how to play, but I know what sounds good. Let’s hear what you can do.”
Chelsea played for a bit, but feeling self-conscious and amateurish, she stopped.
“That seemed pretty good to me,” Janelle told her. “My brother plays, and so do some kids at church. In fact, there’s a guitar class that’s kind of ongoing. Remember Raymond?”
“The youth pastor?”
“Uh-huh. He teaches it. You might want to check it out.”
“Yeah.
Maybe so.”
After a while they got something to eat, then went to hang by the pool some more. As Chelsea lazily swam some laps, she told herself not to get her hopes up too high, but it did seem like this was the beginning of a genuine friendship. She felt like she’d barely avoided a train wreck with that Chase business earlier. But she’d been honest, and Janelle had seemed okay about it. Hopefully that would be the biggest obstacle between them now.
Chelsea got out of the pool and toweled dry, then after some small talk about shoes, she ran into the house to get them each a fresh soda. As she filled tall glasses with ice, she realized that her social skills were awkward at best. She wanted to give this friendship her best shot, but without making it look like she was putting as much effort as she was into it. More than anything, Chelsea wanted a friend by her side when school started. However, she wasn’t sure that Janelle didn’t have other friends . . . closer friends. What if there wasn’t room for one more? How could Chelsea be sure to carve a solid position into Janelle’s social structure?
Chelsea knew that, despite appearances, Janelle was into fashion. As ironic as it seemed, thanks to Kate, Chelsea suspected she was just a couple steps ahead of Janelle when it came to style. On her way back outside, she grabbed some of the glossy fat fashion magazines, ones she’d gathered on the trip out here. Chelsea’s plan was to maintain the pretense that she knew something about clothes and shoes and things in the hopes of solidifying their friendship.
“Here you go.” She handed Janelle a glass of soda, then dumped the pile of magazines on the table between the chaise lounges. “You might want to check out what’s hot for this fall,” she said casually. She stretched out on her own lounge and took a nice cool sip.
“Yoo-hoo!” A strange call seemed to come out of the blue. It was followed by a low whistle.
Chelsea looked up and around the yard. “What was that?”
“I’d say it was Grayson, except it’s coming from over there.” Janelle pointed to where the row of trees grew along the back stucco wall. She lowered her voice. “And that’s where Hollywood lives.”
“Huh?” Chelsea studied Janelle. “Who is—”
“Dayton Moore,” Janelle whispered as she peered across the pool to the back wall. “But I doubt that it’s really him. He’s such a—”
“Hey, ladies,” a guy’s voice called out.
“Dayton?” Janelle yelled back.
“You know me?”
Janelle stood up and walked around to the other side of the pool deck where she could see better. Chelsea remained behind just watching to see what transpired.
“Why wouldn’t I know you?” Janelle demanded.
“Oh, it’s just Baby Face Parker.” He sounded disappointed as he hoisted himself to the top of the wall, perching there with one knee under his elbow like he thought he was posing for a photo. “You don’t even live here, Baby Face.” He pointed at Chelsea. “But tell me, who is that?”
“That is my friend,” Janelle said in a snooty voice. “And she happens to live here.”
“I see.” He grinned and waved at Chelsea. “Hello, neighbor!”
“Fine,” Janelle said sharply. “You said hello, now leave us alone.”
But the guy hopped off the wall and into Chelsea’s yard. With a confident stride, he came toward her. Her old instincts told her to get up and run the other way—that this was the kind of guy who ignored girls like her, or worse. But instead of giving in to those old fears, she stayed put. Keeping a blasé expression, she took in a slow, deep breath, and using her hand as a visor for the glare over the top of her shades, she simply looked at him. His short, cropped hair was sandy brown, and he was wearing navy athletic shorts and a sleeveless white T-shirt that showed off some well-developed and tanned biceps. As he got closer, she could see that his features were even and tanned and that he was good-looking. In fact, he was extremely good-looking. Uncomfortably good-looking.
“I just wanted to be neighborly.” He gave a mock bow as he looked down at her. “I’m Dayton Moore.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I live back there.”
Chelsea sat up and swung her legs around, then stood and extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Dayton Moore. I’m Chelsea Martin.”
“Pleased to meet you.” He continued to hold her hand, and despite his sporty shades, she could sense him checking her out—closely. To her surprise, she didn’t even feel overly concerned that she was wearing the bikini today. After all, she was in her own backyard. If this guy wanted to act so brazen, she was ready to stand her ground. Let him look!
She removed her hand from his and tipped her head slightly. “Do you always jump over neighbors’ walls to make yourself known?” she calmly asked him.
He chuckled. “Not unless the neighbor is a hot babe like you.”
Janelle groaned. “Now there’s a great come-on line if I ever heard one.”
Chelsea laughed. “Yes, Dayton. I think you need to work on that. Or maybe it’s the delivery.”
He looked slightly embarrassed. “So, uh, you’re new in town?”
She nodded. “And you aren’t?”
He looked like he didn’t know what to say or what to do with his hands, and since he had no pockets, he slipped them behind his back.
“Dayton is a senior,” Janelle told Chelsea in a flat tone. “But I’ve known him since grade school. He used to be nicer.”
“What year are you?” Dayton asked Chelsea.
“Junior.” Chelsea smiled.
“That’s cool.” Dayton looked pleased, like he was relieved she was younger than him. “Very cool.”
“Yeah, but don’t get yourself all worked up, Hollywood, she’s still out of your league,” Janelle told him.
He threw his shoulders back. “Says who?”
Janelle laughed. “Anyone with a fully operative brain.”
Dayton shook a finger at Janelle. “Wait a minute, Baby Face, how can she be out of my league if she’s your friend?”
Janelle rolled her eyes, but she looked slightly uneasy.
He turned back to Chelsea. “Don’t get pulled in by Baby Face. She might not have mentioned that she’s just an academic geek.”
Chelsea frowned at him. “So do you have something against intelligent girls?”
“Not if they come with a great package like you’ve got.” He grinned.
“Thanks, but as I said . . .” Chelsea shifted to a cool tone. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dayton. Now if you’ll excuse us, Janelle and I were just going inside. We’ve had enough sun for a while.”
“Hey, we were just getting acquainted,” he said.
She gave him what she hoped looked like a bright but insincere smile. “Yes, we were. And it’s been very nice, Dayton.”
“I’d like to get to know you better, Chelsea,” he said. “Maybe we could go and get—”
“Hopefully we will get to know each other better . . . some other time.” She wiggled her fingers in a mini wave and stepped into the shade. “Really, you wouldn’t want us to get sunstroke out here, would you?”
He gave a slightly goofy smile. “No, not at all. I gotta go anyway. I was on my way to football practice when I heard you girls talking and thought I’d sneak a peek.” He stood straighter. “You probably don’t know that I’m the starting quarterback this season.”
Chelsea nodded like this was impressive. Really, it was. If the starting quarterback at her former school had even smiled at her, she would’ve been over the moon, but now . . . things were different. “Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from that, Dayton.”
He grinned. “See you around then?”
“I hope so.”
“Oh, brother,” Janelle said after they were behind closed doors in the house. “What a jerk.”
“Really?” Chelsea watched Dayton use a tree branch to hoist himself back to the top of the wall and over. “He was a little rude . . . but he seemed okay.”
“Well, that just shows what you know. Or what
you don’t know. Trust me, Dayton Moore is a total jerk.” She pointed to Chelsea and laughed. “But I don’t know why I’m surprised.”
Chelsea felt confused. “Why?”
“Because it’s pretty obvious that you, Chelsea Martin, are a jerk magnet.”
“A what?”
“A jerk magnet.”
Chelsea frowned. She was trying hard not to feel offended, which wasn’t easy. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Janelle was chortling even harder now. “I’m sorry, Chelsea.” She let out a little snort of laughter. “I can’t believe I actually said that. I mean, about being a jerk magnet—I suppose that sounds a little harsh.”
“I guess.”
“Although I do stand by what I said about Dayton. He is a first-class jerk, and I know lots of people who would agree with me on the subject.”
“Fine!” Chelsea’s voice grew sharp. “I wouldn’t know about that since I barely met the guy. But why are you calling me a jerk magnet?” Suddenly she was rethinking her strategy to befriend this girl. Seriously, if this was how Janelle treated her friends, perhaps Chelsea needed to look elsewhere for connections.
“Really, I’m sorry, Chelsea.” Janelle sputtered like she was attempting to control her laughter.
“Whatever.” With narrowed eyes, Chelsea folded her arms across her front.
“I’m sorry,” Janelle said again. “Please, forget I even said that. It was stupid, okay?”
“But I still want to know why you said it. I thought we were friends, and now you’re treating me like—”
“Come here!” Janelle grabbed Chelsea by the arm and tugged her over to the mirror between the kitchen and dining area. “Look at yourself, Chelsea. Take a good long look.”
Chelsea peered at her image. “What?”
“Just like Dayton said, you look like a hot babe, and to a jerk like him, a hot babe is like dangling raw meat in front of a hungry bear. Or in other words, a jerk magnet.”
“Huh?” Chelsea wasn’t sure if it was the mixed metaphors, too much time in the sun, or her own hurt feelings, but she was seriously baffled.
Jerk Magnet, The (Life at Kingston High Book #1) Page 9