by Jamie Canosa
“I’d be happy to.” Mom either missed or ignored the dark growl underlying his words. I, however, did not and a shiver coursed down my spine, imperceptible enough that I hoped and prayed nobody noticed.
“Good.” My mother opened her mouth and I closed my eyes, bracing for the blow I was certain was headed my way as I would a physical strike. “Get out of my sight, stupid.”
I hated that word. God, how I hated that word. She knew I hated that word. I was a lot of things—there were plenty of demeaning names she could accurately call me—but I worked hard to make sure ‘stupid’ was not among them. Academics were one of the very few things I’d actually succeeded at . . . mostly.
“Come on.” Kiernan ushered me out of the dairy section without a single glance back.
We moved silently into the bread aisle, where I resumed my shelf searching, looking over loaves of white, rye, wheat, sourdough, and the elusive pumpernickel.
“I think this is what you’re looking for.”
What are you, blind? It was right in front of you.
He snagged a loaf and handed it to me, but when I wrapped my fingers around it, he didn’t let go. “You look familiar.”
So, it was official. He didn’t recognize me. My silly heart sank despite knowing that he wouldn’t. I mean, how pathetic do you have to be to cling to a single Valentine from eleven years ago? As pathetic as me, I suppose.
I scrambled for an explanation that was a little less stalker-ish. “We have chemistry . . . Together. Take! We take chemistry together. The class.” Oh, good Lord, someone cut off my foot before I can shove it any further down my throat.
“Right. That must be it.” He nodded, a grin tugging on the corners of his mouth, though he didn’t look satisfied with the answer. “My name’s Kiernan.”
“Oh . . . yeah.”
“And you’re Jade?”
“Yeah.” Did I know any other words?
His grin blossomed into a full-wattage smile and, holy hell, he had dimples. Two of them. Life was entirely unfair. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jade.”
“Yeah.” For the love of God, speak girl! “You, too.” That was better.
“I guess I’ll let you get back.”
Your conversation skills are right up there with a rabid squirrel, so why don’t you stop staring at me like some kind of creeper and go finish your shopping. And try to do it without causing another scene.
“Right. Okay. Well . . . thanks.” I hoisted the bread like a moron and then turned tail and practically ran from the aisle. Way to sell the crazy, Jade.
Why was it that every single time I opened my mouth, I managed to broadcast what an idiot I was? I was seriously considering cutting out my tongue to be a potential solution to the problem when I caught up to my mother near the registers.
She didn’t say a word as I added the loaf of pumpernickel to the belt. Neither did I. After exchanging plastic pleasantries with the woman behind the register and bagging the few groceries that weren’t already in boxes, I hauled it all out to where we were parked, beyond ready to get the hell out of there. But, because my humiliation obviously wasn’t complete for the day, Kiernan exited the store with a sack of groceries slung over his arm just as we finished loading up the car.
Mom stacked the last three cases of beer in the passenger seat and stood back, arms folded in satisfaction. “We’re full. Looks like you’re walking.”
We wouldn’t be if she actually returned some of the empty cans she bagged up instead of just stashing them all in the trunk indefinitely. I didn’t bother telling her that. I picked my way across the rutted parking lot, carefully avoiding puddles and the little old lady so short she could barely see over her steering wheel, making dangerously wide turns up and down the aisles in search of a parking spot.
The roar of an engine behind me caught me off-guard and I jumped up onto the sidewalk out of the way. I waited for whoever it was to pass, but they didn’t. The roar quieted as they released the gas and idled beside me. Stifling a groan, I glanced over my shoulder, already knowing what I’d see.
Kiernan smiled back at me. Of course it was Kiernan. The way my day was going, what else could I expect? What I hadn’t expected was the shiny helmet he was wearing, or the sleek, black motorcycle he sat on. And I thought he couldn’t look any hotter? Again, life—not fair.
“Why don’t you let me give you a ride?” It sounded like a question. It wasn’t.
I would rather have dropkicked myself in the face than have Kiernan Parks get anywhere near the place I called home, but he wasn’t giving me much of a choice. A silver helmet appeared out of nowhere as he shut off the bike, threw the kickstand, and climbed off.
“I . . . umm . . .”
His fingers skated over my cheek as he tucked my hair back behind my ears, sending sparks Can-Canning across my skin. With a grin, he lowered the helmet into place and carefully buckled it underneath my chin.
“How’s that?”
“It’s . . . umm . . . good. I . . .”
“Where to?”
How far out of my way am I going?
“Umm . . .” English, Jade. It’s a language. You use your lips and tongue to make sounds to form words to speak it. Ever hear of it? “Halfmoon Park. It’s off of—”
“I know where it is. Hop on.”
Kiernan climbed onto the back of the beast first and helped me slip on behind him. If I shook any harder, I’m pretty sure I would have taken the whole bike down.
“Relax. Just hold on. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Relax? Yeah sure, because that was at all possible when he tugged my wrists until my arms were wrapped firmly around his waist and my front was practically plastered to his back. Relax, right. I’d be lucky if I remembered how to breathe.
The bike roared to life beneath us, sending vibrations through my entire body. Kiernan turned out onto the street in a flawless arc that left me clutching him even tighter. I could feel his body shaking with laughter, but I didn’t care. I shut my eyes and buried my face in his back.
I thought bikers wore leather coats and stuff to protect them from the road, or the elements, or whatever, but only the soft fabric of his tee shirt stood between my cheek and his back. He must have been pretty confident in his abilities. Either that or he was completely insane.
I was leaning toward the latter by the time he pulled into the complex a few minutes later. Thank goodness the ride had been a short one. My heart was pounding so hard, I might have stroked out if it had lasted any longer. Kiernan dropped our speed to a lazy roll and gave my arm a quick squeeze before craning his neck to look at me over his shoulder.
“Which one?” He had to shout to be heard over the rumble of the bike and through the protective shield of his helmet—at least he wasn’t that crazy.
“I can walk from here.” I attempted to slip off the bike, but Kiernan’s grip on my arm only tightened.
“I said I’d drive you home. Let me drive you home. Which one?”
I really did not want him cruising around the complex. It was bad enough he knew I lived there, he didn’t need the grand tour. The front was decent enough. I mean how badly can you screw up trees and grass? I was certain they kept it simply to draw people in. Once you moved past the pretty entrance and got a real look at the place, most people went running. Sane people. Not people like my mom and I.
“Jade?”
I sighed. He wasn’t going to let me off that bike until it was parked outside of my craptastic apartment. “Around back.”
We cruised around the semi-circular roadway, past the cracked and graffitied tennis courts, the overgrown basketball net being strangled alive by vines, and the green pool growing something that should probably have been studied by scientists . . . in hazmat suits. Right up to the decrepit walkway of my building, which just so happened to be directly beside the charred husk of the one that burned down last spring. Ah, home sweet home.
Kiernan must have seen it all, but he didn’t say
a word. “There you go. Do you think you’ll need any help getting the groceries in? They looked kind of . . . heavy.”
“No!” Christ on a crutch, it was bad enough he’d seen what was in the cart. The absolute last thing that I could ever allow to happen would be to let Kiernan Parks see the inside of that apartment.
Besides being an alcoholic, my mother was also a bit of a hoarder. Not like the kind you see on TV, but enough that there were stacks of outdated papers—receipts, mail, coupons we were never going to use—piled on every available surface, little ugly figurines we didn’t have the need, space, or money for scattered all over the apartment, and mounds of clothes I can only assume she’d collected over the course of her entire life heaped on her bedroom floor. Boxes lined the walls of the living room with God only knows what in them. I’d learned a long ago not to bother trying to get rid of any of it or, God forbid, move it. There may have been a dash of OCD in her mental mix, as well.
“No, thank you. We’ll be fine. Thanks for the ride.”
“It’s not a problem.” He unclipped my helmet and carefully lifted it off. “You ever feel like going for another one, let me know.”
I had absolutely no idea how to translate that, but I was certain it involved him laughing at me some more.
“Yeah. Right. Sure. Thanks.” Normal people can manage more than one word sentences. Not me.
“Have a good weekend, Jade.”
“You, too.” There. Two words. That was progress. Too bad I doubt he heard it because he was already peeling out of the complex.
I stood on the sidewalk watching him go, wishing I was still on the back of that bike, leaving this place behind, too.
“Jade!” My mother’s bark cut through my daydream as effectively as an ice cold bucket of water. “Move your ass. You know I can’t lift these heavy things.”
I knew all right. She hadn’t been able to lift so much as a trash bag since she’d thrown her back out in a ‘workplace injury’ when I was in elementary school. Workman’s comp had lasted a while, but when that ran out and lawyers were too expensive to file a lawsuit against the shipping company she’d worked for, we were left with only unemployment. It wasn’t much, but it covered rent and beer. What else could we possibly need?
Four trips up three flights of stairs later, I was sweating like a pig and had decidedly accomplished my workout for the month. All I wanted was to climb into a shower and then crawl back into bed where I planned to rouse my study habits from hibernation. We were three weeks into classes and my first exam was coming up. Time to crack a book.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I glanced from my mother, to the fridge, to the stack of empty beer cases near the garbage can, and back to my mother again. Realization hit me and I sighed. Trudging back to the refrigerator, I removed four cans and placed them in the freezer.
“How dare you?” Mom crossed her arms and glared at me from beneath lowered brows, her small mouth puckered like she’d tasted something sour. My stomach dropped. “How dare you act like your life is so difficult? I’m the one saddled with an ungrateful brat. I’m the one who has to worry about things like rent, and bills. I feed you, keep a roof over your head, clothes on your back. I certainly don’t have to. I could just dump your sorry ass, like I should have when you were born. Like your father did.”
“I’m sorry.” What was wrong with me? I felt nauseated with disgust for myself. All I wanted to do was make her happy. Make everyone happy. I just wanted people to like me. But the harder I tried to do the right things, say the right things, look and act the right way, the worse I made it.
All thoughts of studying discarded in the corner of my room along with my stack of books, I crawled into bed and pulled the blanket over my head, silently wishing it could devour me whole. Save everyone else the trouble of my existence.
Three
Gym class existed for one reason and one reason, only. Two hours a week was not enough to keep anyone in shape. No. Its sole purpose was to humiliate people like me. And if the whole running, jumping, athletic thing wasn’t enough, there had to be witnesses. A whole class full of them. A class including not only Doug and his friends, but Kiernan Parks, as well. Gym class was very close to what I imagined the seventh level of hell to be like.
The sport of the week was announced as volleyball and I wanted to bang my head against a wall somewhere. Not that it really mattered, I would have had the same reaction to pretty much any sport known to mankind. I wasn’t exactly what you’d call coordinated.
The teachers had already divided the class into teams—because allowing us to choose for ourselves could have been ‘embarrassing’ and caused ‘self-esteem issues’. That didn’t do anything to help with the groans, though—the loudest coming from Doug when I was assigned to his team. The only mercy I received was that Kiernan was on the opposing side.
We broke up, each team claiming their side of the court, and fell into position, which basically consisted of Doug directing me as far out of the way as he could get me. And so, the torture began. I suffered through a solid half-hour of pure panic, praying each and every time the ball was hit that it wouldn’t come anywhere near me. And I was doing okay, until I ended up positioned dead center in the court. Everyone rotated so there really was no avoiding it. Just like there was no avoiding it when Jeff served for our team and Kiernan returned it . . . straight to me. I tried to get my arms up, I really did, but being the total spaz that I was, couldn’t quite manage it. The volleyball bounced off my shoulder and landed on the floor at my feet.
I stood there for several long moments that bordered on eternity, staring down at it, terrified to lift my eyes and face my teammates. Could I be a bigger loser? Finally, Jeff—one of Doug’s football teammates—stepped in, scooping up the ball and tossing it to the other side.
“Nice try.”
Why don’t you do us all a favor and play for the other team?
He clapped me on the shoulder before moving to his next spot in the rotation. I couldn’t blame him for being sore. He was an athlete. It was in his nature to be competitive and, God, I sucked. Like a freaking black hole.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, shuffling into the side row.
I waited for the other side to serve, until I was sure no one was paying attention to me, and slipped away. Snagging the bathroom pass from the wall beside the door, I waved it at Mr. Peterson—the morbidly overweight gym teacher who liked to yell at us to ‘run faster’, while simultaneously stuffing Oreos in his big mouth—before ducking out of the room.
Away from the echoes of shouts and shoes, I locked the stall door and sat on the lid of the toilet, pulling my knees to my chest. I needed a minute. A minute to compose myself. A minute to swallow back the tears threatening their way to the surface. I took a deep breath and held it. The smell wasn’t exactly conducive to deep breathing, but it was better than returning to class with red eyes and a blotchy face.
One lone, rebel tear squeezed its way out from beneath my lashes and trickled down my cheek before I swiped it away. I wasn’t going to cry. Not here. Not now. Not about stupid volleyball . . . Why did I have to be so bad at everything? . . . Or stupid Jeff . . . Couldn’t I do anything right? . . . Or stupid Doug . . . Get through one day without embarrassing myself? . . . And definitely not about stupid Kiernan Parks.
Everyone just wanted me to go away, to disappear, and I would have been all too happy to comply, but the world—and those damn gym teachers—just kept pushing me back out there, demanding that I ‘participate’. Thankfully, they were collecting balls and tearing down nets by the time I returned. Clean up I could handle.
“Hey.” Kiernan jogged up behind me as I started rolling a net. “You okay?”
Oh crap, was my face a mess? Did I take too long in the bathroom? God only knew what everyone would be thinking then.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I? With the ball?”
Did you pull something in all your spastic flailing?
�
��No.” I really did not want to talk about it. “I’m fine.”
“Okay. Just wanted to make sure.” He bit his lip, watching me as I continued to roll the net. “Sorry about that.”
“My fault.” I was the disaster out there. What did he have to apologize for?
“I just—”
“Jesus, Jade, you roll the net about as well as you play the game.” Doug tugged the net from my hands and started rerolling it. “Can’t you do anything right?”
I swallowed the shame and stared at my feet as Kiernan’s eyes flicked from me, to Doug, and back again. Scowl etched firmly in place, he backed away as though he didn’t want to be seen with me any longer. I could relate.
“Sorry, Doug.”
“Just go get changed. You’re going to make us late.”
The locker room was already crowded by the time I trudged in. Something I hated. It meant there would be a line for the bathroom. Most girls used the mirrors to check their hair and reapply makeup. Not me. I scooped up my clothes and waited for an open stall. They had enough to talk about with my clothes on. The last thing I needed was for prying eyes to get a glimpse of what was underneath. Victoria’s Secret model, I was not.
As expected, Doug was impatiently waiting outside the locker room door by the time I finished.
“Took you long enough. Thought you’d at least accomplish a little more than,” he scanned my body head to toe, “that.”
I sighed. I wasn’t very good at accomplishing things. He of all people should know that by now. He’d seen me fail enough times.
Somehow I managed to make it through the rest of the afternoon without any more scarring incidents. Kiernan avoided me like a pro, except in the lunch room, where he appeared thoroughly annoyed by my presence, glaring at the table where I sat beside Doug as he devoured his sandwich and half of mine. I don’t know what his problem was. I’d practically handed his team the win,
***
Stress was exhausting. And since stress was practically my middle name, nothing sounded better than a nice long nap by the time I got home. Wasn’t that wishful thinking? The chemistry test was tomorrow and I was unprepared. The word ‘woefully’ sprung to mind. All the studying I hadn’t accomplished while hiding from the world all weekend needed to happen. It was going to be a long night.