She crinkled her brow. “Are they good drivers?”
I tensed. “I don’t know.”
Her lips stretched into a grin. “It’s fine. I’m glad you’re making some friends.” She sat on the bed, crossing her legs. “I’ve got a job interview today.”
“For what?”
She wrinkled her tiny nose. “Just a receptionist gig at a law firm. But it’s better than nothing.”
“Yeah.” I studied her frown. “Maybe I should get a job too.”
Mom sighed. She had shadows under her eyes. I wondered if she’d slept at all last night. “No, honey. I want you to really focus on school—so you can get into that music college you’re always talking about.”
“But it’s in Boston, and it costs a lot of money.”
She held her arms out to me. “Come here, baby.”
I allowed her to pull me in and stroke my hair. There was something comforting about her touch—most people’s hands hurt my skin. But I felt safe in Mom’s embrace. It made me think of the hours we spent writing funny stories. The Noun and Verb Game, we called it—our own twisted version of Mad Libs.
“Who was that cute boy at the café?” Mom asked.
“A jerk. I have to work on a film project with him.”
“Grandma really embarrassed you yesterday, huh?”
“They kept laughing at us.”
Mom nodded. “She’s never been really aware of what’s going on around her. I think she’s kind of like you in that she only knows how to say what’s on her mind.”
“Quit saying I’m like her. We are nothing alike.”
A smile played at Mom’s glossy lips. “You know what I like about both of you?”
“What?”
“You’re strong—not afraid to be yourselves. There aren’t many people I can say that about.”
I looked away, not wanting to tell her how much I didn’t want to be myself. How much I wished I had all these exciting stories to tell about guys I kissed or traveled down the coast with. How I was tired of being someone to laugh at.
“So, why is that boy a jerk? He seemed sweet. Was that his girlfriend with him?”
I shrugged. “That’s Kari. She hates Naomi.”
“Oh, I’ll bet.” She let out a hearty laugh. “Naomi’s gorgeous—even with bright purple hair.”
“His name is Justin—the boy. He’s new too.” I told her about how he’d approached me in the administration office and the things he said, including calling me stereotypical. When I finished, Mom could barely contain the grin on her face. “Why’s this funny?”
She bit her lip. “It’s not. I know. But here’s the thing—you’re a very pretty girl. Sometimes boys will talk to you because they really are interested. They aren’t trying to be mean.”
“I guess Kari interested him more.”
“Maybe. Men are fickle creatures.” Mom rolled her eyes. “Or maybe he wanted to make you jealous. In his mind, you rejected him.”
“All I did was ask him why he wasn’t hanging out with Kari. She’s more like him.”
“Yeah, but you don’t like being compared to Grandma, right? Maybe he doesn’t feel he’s like Kari.”
“That makes sense, I guess. Doesn’t mean I have to like him.”
Mom chuckled again. “Okay, well how about this? Apologize for getting off on the wrong foot and leave it at that. Then it won’t be so awkward to work together.”
“I don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“Be the bigger person. It’ll make him feel like an ass.” She winked.
“I’ll try,” I said, not entirely convinced I could even look at him, much less speak to him.
I didn’t bother meeting Naomi after first period. Getting to English before Justin was imperative. With my luck, I’d end up tripping in front of him and Kari on my way to the desk.
Mr. Duncan told us that we were stuck in the seats we’d picked yesterday. Meaning I’d have to look at the back of Justin’s head the entire semester.
I slid into my rock-hard seat by the window and waited. My stomach fluttered every time the door opened, but he still hadn’t arrived a minute before the bell rang.
Then Kari walked in, and my fingertips went numb. She glanced up at me and smirked before sitting down and tossing a wave of hair over one shoulder. My cheeks went hot at the thought of Grandma’s words in the restaurant. And Kari’s high-pitched laughter. I couldn’t get it out of my head.
The door swung open one more time, but I didn’t recognize the guy who strutted in. And I definitely would’ve noticed him yesterday. His dark hair was tasseled and spiked, and he wore a black thermal with Robert Smith’s face airbrushed on the front. My heart picked up as he headed for my row. Multiple zippers and rivets lined his black pants, and he carried a green lunch box with some cartoon character grinning on the front.
He met my gaze, his lips curving up in a smile. I’d recognize those gray eyes anywhere—even smudged with black eyeliner.
Justin lifted his arms and motioned to his clothes. “What do you think—too much?”
And here I’d been preparing myself to apologize. Forgive and forget, as Mom says. “Fuck you,” I said, with a familiar ache in my throat.
Kari turned around, her mouth hanging open. “Smooth move, Justin.”
He rolled his eyes at her and sat down, putting his hand on my arm. His fingers felt like an electrical current on my skin. Every nerve ached.
“Don’t touch me,” I said.
“Hey, I thought you’d laugh,” he said. “Come on—I even begged my niece to let me use her lunch box.”
“You’re making fun of me. I get it, okay?” Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mr. Duncan walk in, but I didn’t care. Part of me had hoped Justin was different—that he wouldn’t make me the butt of another joke. But nothing had changed. Different school, same jerks.
“No—I’m—”
“Leave me alone!”
“What’s going on back there?” Mr. Duncan asked.
Justin faced forward, and I looked up at the teacher. Every head was turned in my direction.
“Nothing,” I said, my face on fire.
The teacher looked from me to Justin for a few moments before continuing. “I got the class syllabus printed off as promised.” He fished a stack of papers out of his bag and began divvying them up among the rows. “As most of you know, I like to start the semester off with a bang, and I thought we’d tackle Go Ask Alice this year.”
A couple of groans reverberated around the room. “Just say no!” a boy jeered.
“Sounds like you’ve read it,” Mr. Duncan said. “And here I thought you guys were too busy watching America’s Next Top Model or Lost.”
“I read it in, like, seventh grade,” a girl with long braids said. “It’s a good book.”
“Well, now you get to dissect it.”
Justin dangled a stapled bunch of papers over his shoulder. I ripped them out of his hand, hoping to give him paper cuts.
“And you’ll notice I’m still all about the journals.”
More groans filtered throughout the room.
“Yeah, yeah. They’re good for you. An entry is due every Friday. Tell me your thoughts on life. What you had for dinner, your favorite color or band. Whatever’s on your mind. I won’t be grading these—but I’ll flunk you if you don’t turn them in every week.”
The thought of trying to organize my thoughts made my head hurt. I never got the point of journals. Why document things I already know? That’s boring. Plus, most experiences weren’t worth rehashing.
Most of the class whispered to each other as Mr. Duncan passed out the books. Justin held one over his shoulder for me, but he moved it every time I tried to grab it.
“Give me the book, jerk.”
“And it looks like we’re a couple short,” Mr. Duncan announced. “I’ll be right back.”
Justin waited for him to leave before turning to face me. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m not making fun of you.”