“You love a show off, as long as that show off is you and everyone is cheering you on,” I said as we sat at his usual table. He tossed me a sundae cup, and I barely caught it.
“I thought you were a wonder athlete.” He chuckled.
“I’m a runner, Saxon. I never made any claim on hand-eye coordination. Thanks,” I added, holding up the cup. I plowed through lunch, excited about the ride to Tech and my afternoon classes. And, yes, I was very excited to see Jake Kelly again.
It was weird to think about one guy when the other one sat right there, entertaining a group of cool upperclassmen, looking over at me once in a while as if he was making sure I was paying attention. And no matter how much I tried to train my eyes on anything else, it seemed like he caught me every time I looked his way. Maybe it was just that I looked his way a lot. Or maybe it was that he looked my way a lot.
When the bell rang, Saxon walked me to the doors, then outside. I pulled my jacket on and zipped it, then put my skullcap on. I promised mom I would wear that and a scarf, which I wound around my neck.
He reached out and tucked the ends of the scarf into my jacket. “You look crazy.” The way he said it made me think that wasn’t quite what he was thinking when he looked at me.
“Feel free to look away,” I offered.
“Nah. I like a little crazy now and then. It’s chilly as hell out here. This is freaky weather. Soon I’ll be driving you to school.”
“Saxon, I already told you that isn’t cool. I like my bike, and when it’s too cold to bike, I’m going to take the bus.” I looked at him and tried to give a good serious look, but that’s kind of hard when you have on a skull cap with tiny moose all over it and a matching scarf.
“Listen. My date with Kelsie…” He paused and pushed a hand through his hair. “I don’t think there’s going to be another one.”
“Great.” I saw a look of hope flash in his eyes and felt good crushing it. “Great for Kelsie.” I put one foot on the pedal. “She can do a lot better. I have to go, Saxon. I’m late.”
And I took off, not really wanting to see his face, and not really wanting to stay and talk anymore, because I might say what I really wanted to say. That I wanted to go on a date, just me and Saxon in the dark at a theater or in a restaurant, trading stories and jokes and touching now and then. Being around Saxon was like drinking my one allotted glass of Thanksgiving wine: completely intoxicating to someone who had never had alcohol.
I knew the best way to get Saxon totally out of my system was to pedal as fast as I could to Tech. And Jake.
Chapter 3
When I got there, I was pleasantly surprised to see Jake standing in front of the bike rack. He wore a Carhart jacket and a skullcap pulled on over a baseball cap. His jeans were clean but really old and faded; not like the old and faded you could buy at the store. I could tell Jake’s were that way because he had worn them so much the fabric was giving way. He wore work boots that were splattered with mud. I wondered if that was because of the dirt biking.
“Hey!” he called.
I locked my bike up. “Hey yourself,” I smiled. “Why are you waiting out here?”
He shrugged. “Maybe I was excited to see you,” he said, his voice a little shy. His words sent a thrill of warmth through me. He looked at me quickly from under lashes that were lovely, long, and silky. I wondered if boys ever noticed their own lashes.
“You don’t have to freeze. I’ll come and meet you in class.”
“Then how could I offer to carry your books?”
I laughed. “You’re crazy,” I said, unintentionally echoing Saxon’s sentiment to me a few minutes ago. “I carry a backpack,” I pointed out.
“Good, ‘cause I don’t. Come on, before some better looking guy tries to pick you up, and I have to get in a serious fight.” He held out his hand, and even though I thought he was weird for wanting to, I gave him my backpack. He put it on and pretended to stagger under the weight. “Wow! Frankford must actually make you read and stuff.”
“Don’t you have to read at Tech?”
“Nope. Haven’t you heard? We’re all dirtbags here. We don’t need to read.”
He was mostly teasing, but I could tell he partially believed what he said, too.
“That’s not funny, Jake. You’re smart. If you don’t move your brain a little it’s going to slide out of your ear.”
He made a gross slurping sound and tilted his head over. I laughed.
“So what books are in here?” he asked as we walked down the hall.
“I’ve got a Government textbook and Lord of the Flies for English. And that’s all I’m doing academically. Oh, and my new laptop is in there. That’s why it’s so heavy.”
“Show me last period?” he requested.
“Sure.” The laptop hadn’t even come up with Saxon. He wasn’t really the kind of guy who you could talk to about everyday stuff. It was always exciting with Saxon, and sometimes that was strangely disappointing.
“Was it your birthday or something?” Jake asked. We were in the classroom, and he put my bag down carefully on the table. I liked how respectful he was with my things.
“No. It will be in a few weeks, on October 11, but my dad wanted to give me the laptop for school.”
“Nice dad,” he said.
“When is your birthday?”
“November 3. I’ll be seventeen.”
“Really?” I said, surprised. I just assumed he was my age.
“Yeah. Do I seem immature? I stayed back in kindergarten.”
“Kindergarten. What can they hold you back for?”
“I was unsociable,” he recited.
“Like you wouldn’t play with anyone else in the block area?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t really know. I’ve been a dumbass for so long, it’s hard to remember all the specifics.”
I clucked my tongue at him. “You’re not a dumbass, Jake.”
He just avoided my eye contact. I had never met anyone who was so comfortable thinking so little of himself. I didn’t like it at all. Jake was way smarter than he gave himself credit for, and I hated that he was so blasé about brushing off compliments he totally deserved.
We took out our paper and started sketching. His was much more precise than mine, much more detailed. I’d like to think I had a better handle on the subtle aspects, the shading and play of light and dark, but I think it pretty clearly came down to the fact that Jake was just plain better.
We didn’t talk much all period. Jake really was a really hard worker, and very focused. He took his time and evaluated his work over and over. A couple of times, our hands brushed as we reached for the same eraser or sheet of paper. When they did, he looked at me and smiled his crooked smile, but that was as far as it went.
When we got to last period, he was way more relaxed. It was slated as a project period, which meant that we came up with an independent design project and worked on it for a few weeks. The first assignment was a business card. I already had several sketched out.
“Those are great.” I flipped them over so he could get a better look at the new tweaks on my project. His eyebrows furrowed together as he studied the card sketches for my fictitious t-shirt design company. “Mine are a lot more boring.”
“Let me see.” I’d watched him sketch out concepts upside-down, but hadn’t been able to get a good look.
He slid his sketch pad across the table and I flipped through his neat, symmetrical, smart prototypes. “Jake, these are awesome. Simple isn’t boring.”
He brushed the compliment off. “So how about you show me this new laptop?”
I was so excited to show him I could hardly unfasten the latch on my bag. “It’s pretty cool, right?”
He let out a low whistle. “This is nice.” He ran his hands over the cover and turned it over, checking the underside, his voice excited. “Go Dad.” He flipped the lid, then looked at me, startled. “Sorry. Is it cool if I take a look? ”
“Of cour
se.” There was something about Jake I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He was hesitant, and I didn’t know why he would be. We had been comfortable with each other from the minute I met him, but he was always so careful. He was respectful towards me, but there was also a nervous, self-deprecating facet of him that never really went away.
“It’s pretty jacked.” I leaned in and showed him a few of the applications on it.
“Awesome.” He finally closed the lid. “I’m glad you have this. It’s going to make this class so much easier.”
“Do we have to do a lot of computer stuff?”
“Yeah,” he said. “There’s a lab though. That’s where I go to get my stuff done.”
“Sometimes it’s easier to work at school.” I slid my laptop back into my bag.
“Yeah, especially compared to my house,” he grimaced. “So, I got a truck from my grandpa a few months ago.” It seemed like he wanted to say more.
“That’s great. I’m not old enough to think about driving anything but my bike, since I’ll just turn sixteen this October.”
“You’re only fifteen?” he said, his eyes wide.
“I’m a fall baby, so I’ll stay fifteen for the first month of school. But I turn sixteen in October. It just seems like I’m super young, but I’m totally normal for a sophomore.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, then licked his lips nervously. “Right. So, not that you have to, but since I’m driving anyway, I wouldn’t mind giving you a lift home when it starts getting icy.”
“Jake, you live, like, half an hour from my house. I’m all the way in Augusta.”
“Oh. Augusta? Well, I work near there, and I’m pretty constantly at work.”
“You do? Where?” The thought of having a job right now was so foreign to me. Mom wanted me to spend my time studying, and we vacationed a lot in the summer. Plus, I had no skills.
“I work at Zinga’s Farm.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and showed me his id card. The picture caught his half smile. I pressed my finger to his smile on the card before he put it back.
“So, what do you do?” I asked, intrigued by this information.
“I run the tractors and help fix them. I load fruit and package it for shipping. I help in the shop. In the fall I work pumpkin patch and tractor rides and work the apple orchard. At Christmastime I work the tree farm. Spring we do mulch and flowers. Summer is berry picking. Boring stuff.”
“Sounds pretty good to me,” I said, completely impressed. “Are you saving the money up for something?”
“Uh, yeah, some. I had to buy a lot of new parts for the truck. And I want to get a new dirt bike.”
“Yeah, I saw your picture on Facebook.”
His face brightened. “You saw me on Facebook?”
“Yeah. I asked to be your friend. Don’t you check?”
“Hell, I’m gonna check now.” He smiled and leaned his chair back.
“Don’t lean back like that,” I warned. “You’re going to flip the chair back and smash your skull in.”
“There’s nothing in there to hurt anyway.” But he let his chair fall down with a thud. “So what are you reading for English again?”
“Lord of the Flies by William Golding. Have you ever read it?” I doubted he would have, and I could only imagine how painful that particular book on tape would be to listen to. The language in the book could knock you unconscious if the plot didn’t revolve around savage English kids.
“Is it worth reading?”
“Yeah. I mean, I think so. It’s about some English boys who go nuts and turn into delinquents after a plane crash that strands them on this island. No adults.”
“Sounds cool. Lord of the Flies. Why is that the title?”
“Can’t tell.” I gave him my best sidelong glance. “You’re just going to have to read it.”
He didn’t say anything, but when he ducked his head to work on his designs, I saw his mouth curve into a smile. I loved that he took my opinions seriously, that he wanted to read what I read and that he was open about being excited if I sent him a friend request.
“So, are you going on a date or something tonight?” He kept concentrated focus on the careful lines he sketched.
“Are you trying to ask if I’m single, Jake Kelly?” I teased, flicking the corner of his paper.
He laughed sheepishly, but still didn’t look up. “Maybe.” His mouth moved back and forth like he was debating saying something else. “You don’t have to answer.” Again, his voice went to that guarded place I wondered about.
“I’m not FBI, Jake.” I doodled a tiny star on his paper, then flipped my eraser around and rubbed it out. He trailed the tip of his finger through the eraser shavings. “You can ask me things. I do have plans tonight.” I felt a wicked kick of glee when I watched his face fall a little, knowing that it was all because he thought I was going on a hot date. “With my friend Kelsie. We’re going to paint our nails and watch sappy girl movies.”
“I like the sound of that.” He reached out with a jerky motion and caught my hand. I felt the breath catch in my throat and hold. He examined my nails. “They look nice like this.”
I realized that they had still had the remnants of slightly chipped blue polish on them. “They look terrible. You don’t have to lie to me to be nice, Jake. You can just say, ‘Wow, your nails look crappy.’” I did my best boy voice.
“Well, I will tell you that’s a crappy imitation of my voice.” He smiled so wide I could see his eyetooth from across the table. “But you’ve got to know you’re totally hot, chipped nails and all.” He burned beet red all the way to the roots of his hair. “Man, you get me to say some embarrassing stuff, Brenna.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.
“Hey, don’t blame me when you feel moved to make strange declarations.” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the giggles back. Then, feeling flattered and very brave, I added, “And you’ve got to know you’re totally hot, Jake.”
The blush that had been wearing away flamed bright red. “Thanks,” he said, not meeting my eyes, but smiling and shaking his head.
“Is this weirding you out?” I nudged his arm with my elbow.
“No.” Then his voice got very serious, “Just giving me a lot to think about.”
I leaned so close I could smell his crisp aftershave. “I knew I smelled something burning.” I tapped my head suggestively.
This time when he laughed the teacher looked up at us with a warning glint in her eyes, and we both ducked our heads and got back to work.
A few minutes later, I passed him a note.
Where do you ride your dirt bike? I wrote. I did it without thinking, the way I had done with someone sitting by me in school who I wanted to talk to a thousand times before. As soon as I turned the sheet and saw the nervous flicker in his eyes, I felt like a huge ass. He told me the first time I met him how hard it was to read and decipher.
He took out a pen and licked his lips nervously. Vernon. He wrote it very carefully and slowly.
Do you compete? I wrote. I did it because I didn’t want him to think that I thought he was stupid or that there was anything he couldn’t do.
He read it carefully, moving his lips around the words. He picked the pen up again. Yes. And I win.
I wrinkled my nose and wrote. So you’re a big shot? Maybe I’ll come and see you sometime.
I slid the paper to him and looked away while he read it. I didn’t want him to feel pressured, but I watched out of the corner of my eye as he moved his mouth and squinted. It reminded me of the few times I’d met a really cool kid in Denmark and struck up a conversation. A lot of people in Denmark take years of English, but they don’t always get to use it, especially in Jutland, which is the countryside. So I’d be rattling away, so excited to have anyone to talk to, and the kid would be working overtime trying to keep up and string together an answer that made some kind of sense. For me, it was all fun and then guilt. For them, it was just exhausting work.
Yo
u better. I have a race in 3 weeks. He wrote in neat, blocky writing, like a very textbook version of little kid print.
I’ll be there. Where? I asked.
The track at Vernon Valley.
With the snow? As far as I knew, they covered it with snow for skiing.
Not in He stopped and I saw him write an ‘a’ and a ‘t’ before he stopped again, erased and wrote, finally, fall.
I just nodded, and his shoulders actually sagged down with relief when I didn’t write more. I noticed that, when he thought I wasn’t looking, he slid the paper off of the edge of the table and put it into his front pocket.
We worked in companionable silence until the final bell startled us out of our peaceful little world.
I don’t think I have ever, in my entire life as a student, felt sad to hear the final bell ring on a Friday afternoon, but I definitely felt it that afternoon. My time with Jake was over, and I wouldn’t see him again until Monday.
He grabbed my backpack and walked down the long hallway full of jostling people.
“Will you stop by my locker with me?” He nodded a few rows down and I followed, leaning out of the way of the pushing crowds.
We stopped and he opened the locker door so I could see binders stacked neatly on top of one another and covered with doodles. He pulled some books out and then grabbed his coat and two hats.
“I like your hat combo.” I smacked the brim of his ball cap when he got it on.
He pulled the skullcap over it. “Good for sun, good for snow.”
We walked outside and he waited while I undid the chain on my bike. “I guess I’ll see you around.” I fiddled with the handlebars and kicked at my front tire.
“Yeah.” He adjusted his skullcap and pulled his brim lower. Neither of us wanted to leave, but what were we going to do, stand there shivering? “Man, it’s cold. This weather is crazy. I hear we might get flurries next week,” he said, and blew out of his lips in a long, hard rush. “I would kill for a license right now.”
“Did you ever notice that old trucks always have the best heat?” Thorsten’s truck made me sweat buckets when he cranked the heat in the winter.
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