Along Came Jordan Page 10

  The look I leveled on her was pure steel, and I refused to respond to such idiocy. All urgency to use the toilet disappeared, and I turned and strode outside. It was raining, and slivers of ice were forming on the sidewalk. I barreled over them, passing Jordan, who stopped to stare.

  Good thing Laine didn't take the bus. I don't know what I might have said or done.

  ****

  My mother was late again, missing dinner, but when she arrived, she was smiling. "Hello, everyone. Sorry I'm late."

  Her cheer was so unexpected we all stared at her with gaping mouths.

  "Fly-catching season?" she asked and laughed. "Close your mouths, family."

  Dad stood up, his kitchen chair scooting back on the linoleum floor. "I'll get you a plate."

  "No need," she practically sang. "I ate at work."

  Dad gawked at her. "You ate at work? You took enough food in your lunch for dinner, too?"

  Mom stopped and gave him a wide-eyed look. "There was food at work. But, no matter. I'm not hungry. Girls, how were your days?"

  Sarah said nothing.

  "I'm finished eating, so can I talk to you?" I asked, getting up. A good mood from mother was too rare to waste.

  "Of course, let me change my clothes. Come on with me."

  I followed her down the hall, stopping in my room long enough to grab the Internet papers. When I got to her room, she was down to her slip.

  "Things might look up soon," she said then clamped her mouth shut.

  "What do you mean things might look up?"

  She walked to her dresser and pulled out a drawer. "Never mind. What did you want, Emili?"

  I laid the papers on the end of her bed as if placing a sacrifice on an altar. "I did some research."

  She walked to the bed and bent to pick up the sheets. She blinked as if to focus better.

  "It's about Sarah." I pointed to the first page. "Selective mutism. I think it's what she has."

  Mom skimmed the papers. I watched her face closely to see how she was taking it, but I couldn't tell anything from her expression. She went on to the second page. "Emili, I appreciate your efforts. I do. But we all know the Internet is full of information which is not necessarily valid."

  "But, Mom, the description fits."

  "I don't see it." She handed the papers back to me. "Granted, there's a problem, but I hardly think it's this serious. Sarah needs more time to adjust is all, and we need to be patient."

  My voice went up a notch. "It's been weeks, and she's not adjusting."

  "I know you're trying to help, but please let the adults handle this."

  "You're not handling it!" I cried. I had become a teenage lawyer, fighting for my client.

  Mother pulled herself up, and her eyes snapped. "Enough, young lady. You're out of line."

  My shoulders sagged, and my hopes fell into a soggy heap. I shook my head. "Mom, she's not talking to anyone but me."

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a second then moved her head from side to side as if getting rid of a kink in her neck. She refocused on me. "I tell you what, Emili. Leave me the papers, and I'll look over them again when I have a minute. Sound fair?"

  I gave her the papers. "Fine," I said and left.

  I should've given the info to Dad, but I thought Mom would be a better option since Dad was in a funk all the time. He couldn't handle it, and even though Mom was a crank, at least she was functioning.

  My mistake.

  My big fat mistake.

  Maybe I should call a counselor myself, but how would I pay for it? I was back around to needing a job.

  I went to my room and sank down on my bed. On my bed stand was a photo of Sarah and me taken last summer. Of all places, it had been taken at the Bates playground. We were leaning against the same tree where Sarah had gone when she ran away. I'd taken the photo myself holding out my phone, so we were distorted with huge heads and scrawny necks. Sarah's smile was enormous. I'd been trying to look sophisticated, so my eyebrows were raised and pointy, and my expression was downright dorky. We had a blast. The picture was so silly, I'd sent it to Dad at work, and he'd printed it off on one of McDafe's fanciest printers. It had a textured gloss, and I loved it.

  Those days seemed a hundred years ago.

  I caressed the photo with my fingers and closed my eyes, still caught in the remembering. My phone rang, jarring me back to the present. I didn't even look at caller ID. "Yes?"

  "Emili? It's Jordan."

  I jerked upright. "Hi."

  "I saw you racing to the bus after school."

  "Yeah, I was in a hurry."

  "You looked upset." I heard his concern.

  I'd forgotten about Laine and her ugly tricks. The dull ache in my heart had re-focused on Sarah.

  "Emili? You still there?"

  "I'm here. Yeah, I was upset."

  "Since we're friends now, you could tell me about it." His voice was steady and warm, and in my mind I could see his eyes locked on mine.

  "Why don't you come over?" As soon as the words sprang from my mouth, I clapped my hand over my lips. He'd think I was making a move. Or worse yet, that I was desperate.

  "I'll be there in ten," he said and hung up.

  I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it. He was coming? He didn't even hesitate. Ten minutes? I jumped from my bed, pulled off the shirt I'd worn to school, and tossed it in my hamper. I grabbed the purple sweater from my drawer and wiggled into it. I perused my different perfume concoctions. I didn't want to smell like a girl greeting her boyfriend, so I nixed the heavy floral scents. I decided on the spicy scent I'd created last month. I uncapped the bottle and sniffed.

  The tangy cinnamon didn't smell like a date. I splashed some on my neck. I kicked off my tennis shoes and slipped into my brown flats. I ran a brush through my hair and glanced into my full-length mirror. Apart from being skinny as a rod, I looked quite presentable.

  I stared into my own brown eyes until I could see down into my naked heart. I had to admit, I was primping like this was a date. I grimaced, and my brain kicked right into action, calling myself dumb and foolish. I sighed and reined in my thoughts. I wouldn't want to look like a slob, no matter who was coming over. I would've done the same thing for Sally or Margo or some long-lost relative from Jupiter.

  I was lying to myself and I knew it.

  All lies.

  Truth was, I wanted Jordan to think I was pretty.

  The doorbell rang, and I ran out to get it. Dad was sitting in the living room flipping channels. When he saw me, his eyebrows raised and his gaze went to the door.

  "It's Jordan. We have school stuff to do," I said.

  I opened the door, and Jordan grinned at me like we'd planned this meeting for months. He wore a heavy khaki army jacket with a brown scarf wound around his neck. The tips of his ears were red, and his hands were enveloped in huge, quilted black gloves.

  I grasped the doorknob to keep from walking straight into his smile.

  "Emili, it's freezing out here."

  "Oh, sorry." I stepped aside. He brushed against me, and the familiar jolt of electricity zapped through me. I paused, letting my body readjust to normal.

  Dad got up and stretched out his hand. "It's Jordan, right?"

  Jordan pulled off his glove and shook my dad's hand. "Yes, sir."

  "I'll get out of your way, then. Nice to see you again." Dad nodded and headed toward his bedroom.

  "Want to sit down?" I asked.

  Jordan took off his coat, and when he relaxed into the couch, I couldn't help but notice the tight muscles under his shirt. His dark-washed jeans fit so well, I had to consciously keep my eyes from looking. I perched on the other end of the couch.

  "So what gives, Emili?"

  I loved the way he said my name, drawing it out like a caress. "Problems with Laine."

  He laughed. "Sorry. It's not funny."

  "Then why are you laughing?"

  Jordan stretched his arm across the back of the couch, and again I
was conscious of every muscle in his arms. "I don't know. Everyone has problems with Laine. Struck me as funny."

  "She's spreading the rumor that I run a cheating ring."

  Jordan's eyes widened. Then he threw his head back and belted it out.

  "It's not funny!" I argued. He ignored me and howled. He looked so joyous, I giggled. Pretty soon, I was cracking up along with him.

  Laughing was like a rush of fresh air rolling over me. The tension in my stomach relaxed — I hadn't felt so good in weeks. I wiped the tears from my eyes.

  "Why am I cracking up? Jordan, I'm telling you, it's not funny."

  "There's nothing Laine won't do," he said, wiping his eyes, too.

  "I know. She's something else."

  "Yes, she is," Jordan agreed. "Did you know she and I were going out?"

  I stiffened. "You are?"

  "According to her, we might be getting married soon." We started laughing all over again.

  "I feel kind of sorry for her," I said, catching my breath. "Have you seen her house?"

  "Uh, yeah, which makes me wonder why you feel sorry for her. She has everything, including staff."

  "Yeah, but it's weird over there. I don't know how to describe it." How could I explain the hollow feeling I'd had lying in her bedroom with every convenience and gadget known to mankind displayed like an exclusive shop.

  "I guess money isn't everything," Jordan said.

  We fell silent, and every inch of my body was aware of his nearness.

  "I saw Marc the other day," I blurted.

  Jordan's eyebrows shot up. "The boyfriend you hurt? Where'd you see him?"

  "At the library."

  "A planned meeting?"

  "Hardly. He was there with his new girlfriend." I shrugged, trying to make it sound nonchalant, but talking about it brought back the shooting emptiness.

  "Ouch. How was it?"

  "Every girl's dream."

  Jordan scooted closer. "I can't imagine how I'd feel if I saw Pamela. There's not much chance, though, since she's about a million miles away."

  "I hid."

  He looked at me in surprise. "You hid?"

  I rolled my eyes and the humiliation settled on me anew. "I saw them at the computers, and I tried to duck behind a bookshelf. It didn't work, though. Marc saw me."

  "Double ouch."

  "Yeah, he came over. I tried to play it cool, but my stomach was upside-down."

  What was I thinking, confiding in Jordan? I hadn't talked to a guy like this since… well, since Marc.

  Jordan scooted closer still. "That's rough, Emili. Sorry."

  "It's what I deserve, anyway." I tilted my head to look up at him and tried to shrug off the experience, but his expression was so tender, my voice faltered.

  "I doubt you deserve it," he said.

  "You didn't tell me much about Pamela. Only about her moving."

  Jordan looked down and started clenching and unclenching his fists. "Pamela Riggins. I loved her."

  I spoke in a faint whisper. "I know."

  "Her dad got a job in Texas. He's a banker. It was a transfer, a big step up for him. No one in the family wanted to go, Pamela least of all. We'd been dating forever. Not only dating, she was my good friend. To get them to go, her dad had to promise everyone he'd send them back to visit."

  "Has she ever come back?"

  "No."

  "What happened?"

  "When she found out she had to move, she started crying. I think she cried for two weeks straight. It didn't matter what I did, she wouldn't stop. We pledged our love forever." He shot me a look. "I know it sounds stupid, but we meant it. I figured we'd get married right out of high school and go to college together."

  "What went wrong?"

  "I'm not sure. I can't figure it out. We were totally committed one minute, and the next minute, she pulled the plug. After two weeks of nonstop tears, she got quiet. You have to know Pamela. She was always talking or laughing or singing. I don't think she was ever quiet. I loved that about her."

  "She sounds nice."

  "She is nice." Jordan rubbed his forehead. "But then she started ignoring my calls. When we were together, she'd hardly say anything."

  Sarah's face flashed through my mind.

  "I kept asking her what was wrong. I even asked Margo and Sally for help."

  "Did they find anything out?"

  "No. They said she acted weird with them, too."

  "So were you talking when she moved?"

  "Her mom asked me to dinner the night before they left." He looked at me, and the sadness in his eyes made my breath catch in my throat. "Her mom liked me. Anyway, we went to Smorgy's Pizza. Everyone was trying to be cheerful, but it was a sorry attempt. We ate pizza, fake laughed our way through dinner, and then I walked Pamela home."

  Jordan shifted, backing away from me a bit. "It wasn't a long walk, but it seemed like a thousand miles. I tried to be funny. I wanted to see her smile. My insides were dying, and there I was trying to be a clown. Pathetic."

  He was quiet. I reached over and touched his arm. Again, electricity burned through me. I pulled my hand back into my lap.

  "We were over." Jordan sat straight and shook his head. He rolled his shoulders, and his bones cracked. "I've talked way too long about it. Let's talk about something else."

  "Didn't you write or text?"

  "I texted her a few times. No answer. So I stopped. No one wants to be a stalker."

  "Yeah, I stopped texting Marc, too."

  His deep brown eyes searched mine. "Do you still love him?"

  Chapter Ten

  I squirmed under Jordan's gaze. "Maybe. Yes. I don't know."

  "Do you think you could love someone again?"

  "I wouldn't want to." I didn't look at him.

  He moved closer until his leg touched mine. I sucked in my breath. "Want to be my date to the ball?"

  I bolted off the couch and stood with my back to him.

  "Emili?" He got up, put his hands on my shoulders, and turned me around. He leaned down until his face was even with mine. "What's wrong?"

  Right in front of me was this great guy who was interested in me. Despite my huge efforts, I was falling for him. I felt like screaming. "You don't get it, because you don't know me."

  "What's to get?"

  "I can't be trusted. You'll get hurt. Don't you see? I was horrible to Marc."

  His eyes seemed to peer inside me, down to my soul. "I'll take the chance."

  "I can't do it." I turned my head away.

  He touched my chin with his fingers and brought my face back to his. "Okay, fine. Then how about we go together not as a date, but as friends?"

  I had a sudden urge to lay my head on his shoulder, but instead, I drew up as tall as I could. "Jordan, we're not upperclassmen. We can't go as a couple, anyway."

  "I know, but we have to be there to work. We could still go together, maybe dance a few times. What's Janae going to do? Throw a scene in front of everyone?"

  "Maybe not Janae, but Laine will."

  Jordan's face broke into a wicked grin. "So we get to dance, and we get to provide everyone with some Laine entertainment."

  I put my hand to my forehead and rubbed deeply above my eyebrows. "You're evil."

  "Are we agreed?"

  I had to smile. "Okay, we'll go only as friends."

  "Of course," he answered. He squeezed my shoulders and reached for his coat. "On such a happy note, I'm leaving."

  I wanted to follow him out the door and down the sidewalk into his car. I wanted to follow him until we both disappeared into the darkness at the end of a day.

  "Goodbye, Emili." He winked at me, grinned, and shut the door.

  A friend. I had another friend, and he was delicious.

  ****

  Margo and Sally attacked me when I walked into school the next morning.

  "I told you!" Sally cried and grabbed my arm.

  "We talked to Jordan." Margo took my other arm, and together they
pulled me away from the crowd. Margo spoke in a low, conspiratorial whisper. "He told us you're going to the ball together."

  "And that he was over at your house last night," Sally continued where Margo left off. "Why didn't you tell us? How come we had to wait for Jordan to spill?"

  "You didn't have to wait long," I said. "What did he do, call you the minute he left my house?"

  "No. We always text at night. It's our thing." Margo tugged on my arm. "Details! Give us details."

  "Guys, give me my arms back, please. You text Jordan every night?" I wiggled my arms loose from their grips and tried to keep my tone calm. How strange that they were in contact with him every single night. With determination, I shook off my concerns. "There aren't details. We have to be at the ball anyway, so we're going together. As friends. End of story."

  Sally rolled her eyes. "Right. As friends."

  "He doesn't see it as friends, Emili." Margo leaned in. "He's crazy about you."

  "No, he's not. We're just friends. We discussed it."

  "Yeah, whatever you say." Sally crossed her arms, a smug look on her face.

  "I don't have a dress," I said. I'd been thinking about it all night. What was I supposed to wear to the ball anyway? Did the workers dress up? Or did they wear all black like stagehands at a play?

  Margo eyed me up and down. "You're too tall and skinny for my clothes."

  "Too skinny for mine, too," Sally agreed. "We'll have to go shopping."

  "I don't have money." I hated to admit it, but there it was.

  "No problem. We'll hit all the thrift shops. You wouldn't believe what I've found at some of them." Margo raised her eyebrows. "Unless my tía has something."

  I held up my hand. "I'm trying to get a job, not hit her up for freebies."

  "You've got a point," Sally said.

  "By the way, you have a phone interview this afternoon. I put in some major good words for you. I'm pretty sure it's in the bag."

  I grasped Margo's wrist. "No kidding? She's going to give me a job?" My heart sang. Maybe I could pay for counseling for Sarah, after all.

  "It won't be many hours."

  "I'll take whatever I can get. Do I call her, or will she call me?"

  "She'll call you. Have your phone ready."

  "Margo, thank you." My voice trembled as a rush of gratitude stuck in my throat.