“Is it weird that I don’t want to have sex with him yet?”
“Nah. I’m glad you don’t settle, baby. There are enough women doing that day in and day out. Let them take on the men who only want one thing.”
The temporary silence allowed for a buzzing of thoughts to begin rattling around in Jess’s mind.
“Don’t be mad at me for asking,” Destinee said as they pulled onto their street, “but are you having sex with Chris?”
“What? Mom! No. I’m not.”
Destinee grinned furtively and smiled. “Okay, okay. I’m just saying. He’s a little hottie, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
Jess felt blood rush to her face, and she had to fight back an embarrassed grin that would have given Destinee the wrong impression. “Mom, stop. He looks at me that way because he believes I’m the daughter of God.”
Destinee pulled into the driveway. “Hm. Well, might be nice to be with someone who believes in you, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Mom.”
“All right, I’ll drop it.” She laughed and shut off the engine. “I won’t even say I told you so when y’all two end up together.”
As soon as Jessica laid down in bed that night, she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Too many thoughts swirled in her mind, plus she was still high, so she turned on the TV and watched some nightmarish deep-sea creatures mating. The ones identified as females seemed to be trying desperately to escape during the process, so Jessica could relate. And when the females turned around after intercourse and ate the males, Jess could strangely relate to that impulse, too.
It was eleven o’clock when her phone vibrated, and she picked it up to find a text from Greg. She almost didn’t read it. But her curiosity got the best of her.
She opened the message and read, I’m really sorry. I’m a jerk. I shouldn’t have pressured you. Let’s talk in the morning.
Well, at least he realized it. That was enough to let her feel like things might go back into place in her life, and it wasn’t long before she finally fell asleep to the beautiful orchestral soundtrack of a squid ejecting live young that would never know their father. Because their mother had eaten him.
With Greg’s dress rehearsal and opening night that week, Jess was off the hook for making plans with him. She hoped that not having any realistic opportunities for sex meant that things could blow over and it wouldn’t be so awkward between them in their classes together.
The first to biology on Monday, Jess took a seat at their usual table. When Greg walked in, he paused and looked around at the other seats before apparently resigning himself to sit next to her.
He settled in without looking at her. “Why didn’t you answer my calls yesterday?” he asked.
“I didn’t have my phone on me. Sorry.”
“You still could’ve sent a text or anything rather than give me the silent treatment.”
She looked at him, was he really getting an attitude with her? After what he did? “Uh, it wasn’t the silent treatment. I just needed more time. I’m not mad anymore, though, if you aren’t.”
“Well, I’m a little mad.” He pulled out his textbook and smacked it down on the table.
“What? Why do you get to be mad? I’m the one you”—she lowered her voice—“I’m the one you accused of cheating just because I didn’t want to have sex with you at that moment.”
He sliced the space between them with his palm and Jess had never wanted to smite him more than she did right then, when the back of his hand was an inch from her nose. “Yeah, that moment or any other moment.”
“I’m sorry if the charming personality I’m seeing right now doesn’t make me want to strip off all my clothes.” Jess gathered up her books and bag and moved over to sit by Gary, who never had anyone sit by him, mostly due to his hygiene, but also probably due to his obsession with drawing intricate cartoons of big-breasted feline women on every sheet of paper that found its way in front of him.
He looked up at her with surprise and a little bit of fear, but she sat down on the seat next to him anyway. “I’m not going to bite you. Grow a pair.” She’d never been angrier in her life, but she managed to tamp down any thought of making Greg explode into a thousand bloody skin flaps, because that wasn’t what she wanted. What she wanted was for him to stop being stupid. They were supposed to have made up today, not gotten in another fight.
Frankie Mondragon, the boy who played Antonio alongside Greg’s Duke, walked into class, noticed the empty seat, noticed Jess at another two-person table, and then immediately went up to take the empty chair next to Greg.
So that was it. They were no longer table buddies. The thought made her sad, but mostly it made her angry. They’d still be table buddies if Greg would get his head out of his you-know-what. He was doing this, not her.
She furiously texted Miranda underneath her table for the rest of class and made Gary do all their group work, chastising him each time he paused to start compulsively drawing a busty cat lady.
Tuesday went on much the same, with Jess and Greg sitting on opposite sides of the classroom from each other whenever they had a class together. Jess was able to hold in the tears through morning classes just fine, since she didn’t have any of those with Greg and had third period with Miranda, who was wonderful about letting Jess vent whatever new realizations she discovered about her own innocence and Greg’s culpability. Lunch, though, was where things got tricky, as Greg had stopped sitting with Jess, Miranda, and Chris, instead opting to sit with the other Shakespeare’s Players. At least he wasn’t sitting with Sandra and the popular clique again, but that was little consolation, since Sandra had taken note of the table change almost immediately and took every opportunity she could to smile smugly at Jess, occasionally mouthing, “prude,” when the impulse took her.
At least she has to cheer for me every Friday. That would have to be enough.
But as bad as lunch could be, afternoon classes were worse, since she had both fourth and sixth period with Greg. The only small moment of relief in the afternoons came from fifth period art with Chris and Quentin, who now included her in their football conversations that proved to be a nice brain break from everything else.
It wasn’t until she made it to afternoon practice, though, that she could finally breathe. And maybe it was that combined with the physical exertion that caused her resolve to completely vanish once she made it home, leaving her with no choice but to head straight to her room to cry through her favorite episodes of National Geographic.
When she woke up Wednesday morning, she’d had enough. She needed to set things right. That night was the opening of Measure for Measure, and she would simply show up, support Greg, and afterwards she’d apologize and bring him flowers for a performance well done. That had to work. That had to reset things back to how they were before she’d botched the sex thing and before he’d lied about her football game. She wondered if the flowers were appropriate, and then decided they were. Greg wouldn’t be put off by getting flowers from a girl. He was secure in his masculinity, or whatever it was he always said.
By lunchtime, she was feeling confident about what she’d dubbed Operation: Duke as she walked across the cafeteria to slip Greg the note that she’d spent third period composing with Miranda. It read: I’m so sorry. I hate fighting with you. I’ve been a bitch. I hope you’ll forgive me. Break a leg tonight. I’ll see you there. There were a few hearts on it, too, which she’d spent a bit of time debating whether or not to include. On the one hand, it helped her case, but on the other, she didn’t quite want to go there yet with the being-in-love thing. Hopefully the hearts didn’t scare him off.
As soon as she slipped him the note, she immediately regretted the hearts, but it was too late.
She walked straight back to the table where Miranda waited with Chris. She glanced over at Greg as he read the note, and once he’d finished it, he turned and looked at her and gave her a half-smile and a little nod.
She smiled
back and then turned to Miranda and Chris, who had also witnessed his reaction. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she hissed.
Chris rolled his eyes. “That it’s time for you to find a guy who can sack up and make himself clear.” He sipped his Muscle Milk.
“Hush, Chris. It just means that he’s thinking it over. Don’t let it intimidate you. Stick to your plan, and everything will be fine by tomorrow.”
“Plan?” Chris glanced up from his food, first at Miranda, then at Jess. “You had to come up with a plan to get him back? Damn, Jess. You shouldn’t need a plan.” He shook his head. Maybe she should stop talking about Greg around him.
“I bet he either writes you back or just comes to talk to you next period,” Miranda assured.
But that didn’t happen. Jess sat at their usual table in biology and when Greg made his way in, he found somewhere else to sit. The same in English.
Is this his way of punishing me? she texted Miranda.
Miranda replied with, Maybe. But maybe he just wants to wait until he has a better opportunity to talk to you in person.
She tried to let her friend’s words calm her, but it was getting more and more difficult with each time she heard Greg’s voice.
By football practice, she was ready to stab, if not smite, somebody. But Maria Flores changed that when she arrived with her camerawoman.
At first, Jess thought adding a reporter into the mix was the only way an already crap day could get worse, and it didn’t help that all her teammates and coaches couldn’t take their eyes off Maria with her thick, wavy black hair and intense hour-glass curves.
But then Jessica noticed that Chris didn’t appear to be under the woman’s spell at all.
“Not your type?” she asked casually.
“Huh?”
“Maria Flores. Not your type?”
He threw a pass to Eddie—who was so busy trying to look relaxed and nonchalant for Maria that he took the ball to the gut as it slipped right through his hands—and then glanced over at the reporter and her camerawoman. “Ew, no. She’s friends with my mom. I see her all the time.”
“You don’t think she’s hot?” Jess asked.
“I mean, I guess if I think about it, but like … she’s my mom’s friend.”
“Is she cool?”
Maria bent over to set her microphone down on the bench, and action on the field ceased entirely.
“Oh yeah. She’s definitely not gonna shaft us like Eugene Thornton. And she likes you.”
“She likes me?” Jess repeated back dumbly. “How can she like me when I haven’t met her?”
“I told her about you.”
“Oh.”
The idea of Chris talking about her while she wasn’t around was unsettling, but not necessarily in a bad way. She’d just always assumed that once she wasn’t in his presence anymore, he forgot about her completely until she appeared again.
They finished their warm up and Coach Rex called them into a huddle at midfield.
Even Rex’s attention waned during his speech as Maria Flores approached from the sidelines. His voice faded out in the middle of a sentence and his jaw lolled open slightly when the reporter paused beside the huddle.
“Do you mind if I speak with Jessica for a moment while you begin your practice?” She had the slightest Spanish accent that only served to draw attention to the rolling movement of her tongue as it formed the sounds.
“Of course,” Coach Rex stammered. “Whatever you need, it’s yours.”
Maria smiled and motioned for Jess to follow her out of earshot of the huddle.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. An honor, really,” said the woman once they were clear of where the rest of the team began running a passing drill. Jess hadn’t been expecting that. “Um, thanks. I’m glad you’re here. Chris said you’re a friend of his mom’s.”
Maria beamed warmly. “Yes. Sarah is a lovely person, as is her son.” She paused, seeming to consider her next words carefully. “I saw the piece that Eugene Thornton did, and I want you to know I’m not that kind of a reporter. What he did, to lie about you like that, it was terrible. People need to hear the truth.”
There was something about her—perhaps the tone or her eyes—that convinced Jessica almost immediate to trust her. “I agree.”
“And the truth is that you are the one and only daughter of God, and your purpose on this earth is much larger than football, and for that, you deserve all the respect in the world, not rumors of illicit lovers.”
Jess realized that her mouth was hanging open. “I’m sorry?”
Maria’s stare had become fiery and intense. “Do you deny that you’re the one and only daughter of God Himself?”
Jess looked at the camerawoman to see if she was recording, because this suddenly felt like a setup, even though Maria didn’t strike her as the type. “Well, I don’t know if I’m the one and only. I don’t know about any half-sisters, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist …”
Maria laughed and her demeanor softened. “I see. But you admit that you are at least God’s daughter?”
Still uncertain whether this was a trap, Jess opened her mouth to say no. She could always backtrack and say, “No, but.” Except she couldn’t. Oh right.
“Yes, that’s me.” Jess needed to find her footing again. “Wait, so you believe me?”
“Of course I do. I’m trained to root out and verify stories and claims. I’m exceptionally good at it.”
“Huh.”
“Excuse me a moment while I set up for the interviews. I’ll call you over once we’re ready for you.” She walked over to converse with her camerawoman about shots, and Jessica jogged back out onto the field to join in on the drills.
The team had been in high spirits all week, due to the huge win over the Crusaders, but even so, spirits seemed unusually high that day. Even the coaches seemed giddy, which wasn’t like them on a Wednesday afternoon. Usually they did nothing but talk about how unready the team looked and how this was their chance to pull it together before they made a fool of themselves at Friday’s game. Jess wasn’t sure if the joviality was due to the fact that Friday was an away game against Andrews High School, who the Mexicans almost always creamed, or because Maria was around.
She would take it, anyway. It was a nice change from the drudgery her life had become since she’d refused to have sex with Greg.
Jess’s optimism was such that she let Maria and her camerawoman get footage of her knocking the ball through the uprights from sixty yards, at which point Coach Patterson put a stop to it, saying that they needed to save her for the game the next day. Jess wasn’t sure why he would think she needed to be saved. Maybe he still wasn’t convinced of her divinity, or maybe it allowed him to look paternal in front of Maria.
As Maria pulled select players aside one-by-one, the rest of the team waited by the benches, hydrating and killing time after a solid practice. Jess watched as Romeo, with his stocky frame that was born to bulldoze through a defensive line, gave his usual animated performance for the camera.
“Hey,” came a voice from beside her. Chris.
She nodded acknowledgement.
“Some of us are hitting Gordon’s again for burgers, if you want in.”
“Yeah, sounds awesome.” Then she remembered. “Oh shoot. I can’t. I have to go see Greg’s play.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot about that. How’s the plan coming?”
Jess shook her head. “Not great. He still hasn’t talked to me.”
Quentin inserted himself into the conversation, his tall, lanky frame hopping to stand between Chris and Jessica. “Sounds like you need to ditch that muthafucka and come get some burgers with us.”
Jess laughed. “Next time.”
Maria motioned for Jess. It was finally interview time.
“Here’s what I want from this,” Maria said, once Jess had jogged over. “I want people to get to know you as a person, sweat and all. From everything Chris has told me about
you, I can tell you’re a likable young lady. You have to prove you can be likable before the average person will be willing to accept who you are.”
“Okay.”
“So what do you want from this interview?”
“Uh, what you said sounds pretty good.”
Maria nodded and pointed to the camerawoman. “Gabrielle? You ready?”
Gabrielle gave her the thumbs up and the camera’s red light blinked on.
“Ms. McCloud, I’m so glad you could join me today to sit down and have a real conversation. You’ve recently been forced to fight rumors that one reporter who won’t be named—”
“Eugene Thornton. It was Eugene Thornton.” Jess turned her head to grin at the camera.
Maria chuckled airily. “That’s the one. Mr. Thornton has begun disseminating rumors about you. I’d like to take this opportunity to sort out the fact from the fiction, if you don’t mind …”
For as effortless as it was to discuss things openly and honestly with Maria, it might as well have been Miranda standing across from her. It was the easiest interview Jess had given, because she knew if something she said didn’t come out right, her words wouldn’t be twisted in editing. It was like how she thought news should be.
By the time Maria was done with her questions, the sun was starting to set, and Jess felt like maybe, just maybe, things could fall into place. She jogged over to the rest of the team, who were waiting anxiously for her. “How’d it go?” Chris asked.
“Great, actually.”
He nodded. “Yeah, Maria isn’t like every other reporter.”
“You’re right,” Quentin said. “She’s way more fine than every other reporter.”
“Still no go on burgers?” Chris asked. “Last chance.”
Jess sighed. A burger sounded heavenly. But wait, there was a reason she couldn’t go, wasn’t there? Then she remembered. Greg’s play. “Shoot!” She looked up at Chris. “What time is it?”
He shook his head, and she jumped over to Coach Rex, grabbed his wrist and read his watch. The play started in three minutes.
And It Was Good (Jessica Christ Book 2) Page 13