Along Came Jordan Page 6

  Could things be worse? I settled back into the seat and counted the seconds until we pulled into the high school parking lot. The driver barely had his foot on the brakes before I jumped up and hurtled the steps. There were already groups of students milling around. I pushed through them into the school.

  "No running," the officer warned after I burst through the doors.

  "Sorry," I said and grabbed the first poster I saw off the wall. By the time I rushed to the other two floors and pulled them all off, the bell was about to ring.

  I crammed the posters into a nearby trashcan and looked up to see Jordan. He was standing two yards away, watching me. I smiled at him and shrugged.

  He walked over. "Getting rid of the evidence, huh?"

  "Sure am."

  "It was a sort of disaster."

  I shook my head. "I'm hoping everyone has pushed delete."

  He chuckled. "Well, it's over now."

  "Maybe for you, since you're not the one being blamed."

  "Oh?" He rubbed his chin.

  Was I having a civil conversation with Jordan the Iceman? The warning bell buzzed.

  "It was your idea, though, not mine," he said, his voice now devoid of humor.

  Civil conversation? Scratch that. I hurried to my locker and grabbed my books. The halls were full of kids laughing, yelling, and darting every which way.

  I walked to class alone.

  ****

  During seventh period, I made a decision to call Marc when I got home. Days and days had passed, and not even a text. The last time I saw him, I was sure he was still interested. I thought he'd forgiven me for dumping him for Lance, the Creep. Was I so off base?

  The Marc hole in my heart stretched wide. I needed someone to talk to, someone who liked me and knew me. Thank goodness I didn't have to attend any more involuntary meetings that afternoon. I caught the bus, sat by the ever-silent Sarah, and arrived home to find Dad once again parked on the couch.

  "How was your day?" he asked for the millionth time.

  I knew he was making an effort, which I guess I appreciated, but I was surprised he even asked anymore. Sarah ignored him and marched straight through the living room to her bedroom.

  I said, "Fine," and went into my room. Marc was blazoned on my mind.

  I checked the time. He should be home, unless his coach called an extra conditioning class. I perched on the edge of my bed and took a deep breath. My stomach was doing cartwheels, and nausea rose to my mouth.

  I swallowed past the brick of tension in my throat and, before I could change my mind, speed-dialed his number. I counted each ring as beads of sweat popped out on my upper lip. One… two… three… four…

  "Emili?"

  Too late now, I couldn't hang up.

  "Hi, Marc."

  Awkward silence. Then, "How are you?"

  "Fine," I lied.

  "I've been meaning to call. I've been super busy."

  "Me, too," I lied again.

  "How's Edgemont High?"

  "It's okay." A lump grew in my throat.

  "I've thought about you," he said. His voice sounded funny — distant, cautious. "I've wondered how you were doing."

  "Yeah, well."

  "Jeannie was wondering, too."

  Jeannie? Was he with Jeannie again? I thought their relationship had died a quick death right before I transferred to public school. Were they together? Was that why he hadn't called or texted?

  Mental note: Check Marc's online status.

  "Tell Jeannie I'm fine." I tried to keep my voice light, but knew I was failing.

  "Okay."

  Another awkward silence.

  "I thought I'd call and say hi," I said. How lame.

  "Glad you did," Marc replied. He cleared his throat. "I was going to call you, Emili."

  "It's okay. I don't deserve it."

  "It's not that," he said. His voice warmed, and he sounded like the Marc I knew. "It's been busy."

  "So you said."

  "Emili…"

  "What?"

  "It's difficult."

  "What is?"

  His breath gushed out. "You and me."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You hurt me."

  I cringed at the pain in his voice and knew he still suffered. "I know, and I'm sorry."

  "I tried to forget. Honest, I did. It's hard. Jeannie says it takes time."

  I bit my lip, and something claw-like grabbed my stomach. "Jeannie's right. I shouldn't have called. See you later, Marc."

  "Sorry, Emili."

  "Nothing to be sorry for. Bye." I snapped my phone closed and held it to my chest. I fell sideways onto my bed, and an icy stiffness came over my heart. It was my fault. How could I blame Marc for not wanting me back? I'd treated him like dirt when I lost my brain the previous month. How could I have been so stupid? It served me right.

  I had no friends and no boyfriend. I was on my own in the charming world of Edgemont High.

  Chapter Six

  Mom was late again. Even though I knew better, I was in the kitchen, waiting to pounce. "Where were you?" I asked before she'd even shut the door.

  "Emili, I'm mighty tired of your third degree." Her voice was sharp, and the expression on her face flashed a warning.

  "Sorry, but you never used to be late. Are you getting overtime?"

  She avoided my eyes. "In case you've forgotten, I'm the adult and you're the child."

  "Are you?" I asked again.

  "Enough with your sassy mouth! And no, I'm not getting overtime." She threw down her purse and turned on me. "I wish to heavens I were, because we need the money. Money, Emili. Everything's about money."

  I flinched and stepped back. I hadn’t been prepared for the venom. I felt myself go bug-eyed at her outburst. I saw her wince and thought for a split second she'd apologize and be my normal mom again, but I was wrong. Instead, she stomped her foot then turned on her heel and hurried off.

  Dad stood in the doorway, watching the entire scene. His eyes followed her out of the room. Then as if nothing had happened, he coughed into his arm and stepped to the stove to stir a steaming pot.

  I didn't know what to do or say. Dad kept his head lowered, stirring, stirring. After a few more seconds, I left the kitchen and went back to my room.

  ****

  Janae called a decorations meeting after school on Wednesday in the art room. I forced myself to go, even though I'd rather have jumped off the nearest bridge. I walked into the room and plopped in an empty chair toward the back. Janae gave me the stink eye, but who cared? She hardly registered on my radar.

  Jordan watched me take my seat and then focused his attention on Janae.

  I'd been right — Jordan was the elusive missing person on the decorating committee.

  "Guys, we have to get busy. I've called in some reinforcements to help. The date for the ball is scary close, and we have tons to do. Laine's breathing down my neck, and you all know what she's like."

  Janae complaining about Laine in public? This couldn't be good.

  "I've checked prices at the party store for crêpe paper and balloons," a girl named Deb said. "Do we have to buy tablecloths and napkins, or is the food committee buying them?"

  "They're buying them," Janae answered. "I need someone to research and report on getting sleigh cutouts for the photo booth." She surveyed us and pointed to Jordan. "Can you check into it? We'll need a rush order."

  "Sure. I'll have the info by tomorrow," he answered.

  "We've got to do something with the west corner of the gym. I have no ideas. Guys, it can't look like a gym, or we'll be hated by every upper classman alive."

  "Kind of like Emili and the Servant Sale," a kid with red spiked hair said and laughed.

  Janae grinned. "A total disaster, didn't you think?" Did she have to look so gleeful when she said it?

  I squeezed out a smile, pretending it was all a big joke. "Yeah, a disaster," I said and forced a giggle.

  Jordan looked back at me,
and surprise flashed across his face.

  "Old news, Janae. Who cares?" Deb said.

  Jordan opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again.

  Janae shuffled some loose papers and cleared her throat. "Fine. Moving along. We need ideas, so let's get brainstorming. By the way, we're all responsible to help out during the ball. Unless you've got a date with an upper classman, you're obligated."

  That's what you think. I wasn't going to stand around alone at some stupid ball looking like a reject.

  "Once we have ideas," Janae continued, "we'll need to meet every day after school to make the decorations until they're done. We're not waiting till the last minute."

  "It's already the last minute," Deb said.

  "It is not, Debra," Janae snapped. "We have two weeks."

  "Like I said…"

  "Okay," Jordan interrupted. "Who has an idea?"

  I clamped my mouth shut. After my last catastrophe, I wasn't about to speak a word. The kids tossed around ideas until they settled on a European castle. We were already getting the sleighs, so it matched the theme.

  "Where can we build it?" Spiky Hair asked. "It's going to be huge."

  "We're using the room next to the furnace room. It's empty, and Laine got the okay."

  The group came up with a list of supplies, and everybody agreed to meet in the next day or so. As we were leaving, Janae walked over to me. "Emili, we expect you to help. You volunteered to be on this committee, and don't think I didn't notice you not saying one thing or helping at all. Laine is going to be mad."

  "What is Laine — your mother or something?" I regretted the words the minute they flew out of my mouth.

  Janae sucked in her breath. She pressed her lips together, gave me a look to shrivel my skin, and flounced out of the room.

  Jordan was resting against the doorframe, watching. His lips formed a half smile, and he shook his head. "Making enemies?"

  I bent to pick up my backpack then stood tall and faced him. "Appears so."

  "A regular daredevil." He moved to the side to let me by. As I passed, an electric current sparked between us. It was so strong I slowed and almost stopped. With effort, I forced myself to keep walking.

  What was it with us? He couldn't stand me, and I wanted nothing to do with him. He rarely entered my mind. All day long, my thoughts were focused on Marc, so there was no reason for such a reaction to Jordan.

  My heart was plain sore, and I was tired of thinking. I hadn't realized how much I had been counting on Marc to come through for me. It was unfair to expect it, but I had.

  Marc was a rock, solid and dependable. He'd been my rock until I blew it. Now, it seemed Jeannie had gotten him, after all. I trudged down the stairs, lost in memories. My phone buzzed against my leg — a text.

  I pulled it out and stopped breathing. Marc.

  Still thinking about our talk. It was written out in full English, typical Marc style. I tried, but I couldn't forget what happened at Bates. Sorry. I did love you.

  I gulped, and my stomach plunged to my feet. He'd tried, but of course, he couldn't forget how I'd dropped him.

  "Emili?" Jordan stood behind me on the steps. "You okay? Bad news?"

  I blinked and wiped my eyes. "No, I'm fine." I crammed my phone back into my pocket and continued down the stairs. Jordan stayed behind me, and we moved as if in a slow downward dance. When I got to the first floor, he circled ahead, looking back at me with narrowed eyes.

  I avoided his glance and continued walking to the door.

  "Some people say I'm a nice guy," he said, walking next to me.

  I halted. "What?"

  His cheeks grew red. "You know, a nice guy."

  I shook my head as if clearing my ears of water. "What are you talking about?"

  "You look like you could use a friend."

  I stared at him and had a sudden urge to run into his arms, but my feet were plunged in cement.

  "You looked lonely." He stepped back and frowned. "Never mind. It was a stupid idea."

  "Stupid," I repeated in a dull tone.

  He turned away and left.

  I shut my eyes and raised my face to the ceiling. What was the matter with me? I needed all the friends I could get. A car horn blasted outside, and Dad pulled up. I walked out and got in, bracing myself for another cheery evening at home.

  Mom was there when we pulled in — shocker. Dad's gaze latched onto her car. We got out and went inside. Mom was sitting in the kitchen with Sarah, who was staring at the stove as if it were a lab specimen.

  "Sarah, I'm talking to you," Mom said.

  Sarah kept staring.

  Mom looked up as we came in. "David, I'm ready to snap. I'm sick of the whole thing."

  "What's going on?"

  "I was trying to talk to my daughter. Is it too much to ask — to have my own daughter speak to me?"

  Sarah didn't move.

  "What about? What's happened?" Dad asked.

  "Nothing. I was only trying to have a conversation."

  "Well, if it's not an emergency…"

  "Do I need an emergency to talk to my own daughter?" Mom's voice changed pitch, moving up the scale. "I could use some support here."

  "Support?" Dad's voice boomed. "You want to talk about support? I haven't gotten one ounce of support from you since I lost my job. Support? Let me tell you about support."

  I grabbed Sarah off the kitchen stool and pulled her to the living room. "Come on," I said. "We'll go to my room."

  I slammed my bedroom door shut behind us, and Sarah and I both sank to my bed. There was a time when I would have gotten in trouble for slamming my door, but today, I doubt they even heard it.

  "What was Mom asking you?"

  Sarah shrugged, plucked up my stuffed penguin, and hugged it.

  "Sarah, you know you can talk to me."

  She shrugged again and dropped the penguin.

  "Fine. Don't say anything. I've got my own problems." I pulled my phone out and reread Marc's text. My lungs tightened, and I worked to take a breath. Heaviness smothered me like a wool blanket, and my energy fell to zero. I slouched against Sarah, making her lose her balance.

  She righted herself, and her arms came around me. I buried my face in her stomach and tried to keep from crying.

  I don't know how long I laid there, but Sarah didn't let go of me. When I raised my head, she was looking at me with wide eyes.

  "Sorry," I whispered.

  I sat up and pushed back my tangled hair. Sarah watched my every move.

  "I'm okay. Look, I'm not even crying."

  Her lips trembled, and I hugged her tight. "I didn't mean to worry you. I feel a lot better now."

  She nodded.

  I got up and walked to my door, putting my ear to the wood. "It's quiet out there. They must be done fighting."

  "They always fight." Her voice was soft, but at least she was speaking.

  "I know."

  She got up and joined me at the door. "I'm hungry."

  "Me, too. Let's go see if dinner's ready." I took her hand, and we walked out to the kitchen together.

  ****

  Sally and Margo met me at the door Thursday morning. "What'd you do?" Sally asked.

  "Yeah, Janae's livid," Margo said.

  I rolled my eyes. "I asked her if Laine was her mother. Boy, news flies fast."

  "Her mother?" Sally's eyebrows shot up and she giggled.

  "Ay, perfecto," Margo said. "I wish I'd been there."

  I walked up the stairs with them at my heels. "It wasn't so great. Now she hates me."

  "Oh, who cares," Sally said. "We've all been hated by Janae at one time or other. It's her thing — hating people."

  "I shouldn't have said it."

  "Ah, she deserved it. Was Laine there? Did she hear?" asked Margo.

  "No, but I'll bet she's heard by now," I answered.

  "Seems you've fallen out of favor with Laine. Any more slumber party invites?" asked Margo.

  "No
pe, and glad for it."

  "Talked to Jordan last night," Sally said. "He called. All he wanted to do was talk about her. Pamela, Pamela, Pamela. It was sickening."

  "At least he called," Margo said. "Why didn't you text me about it last night? I have to hear hours after the fact?"

  "Man, Margo, what are you… my mother?" Sally asked and then burst into uproarious laughter.

  Margo joined her, and they went off toward the bathroom, leaning on each other and cracking up.

  I shook my head and opened my locker. It was a mess. I knelt and pulled everything out. At Bates, lockers had two shelves, one on the top and one on the bottom. They were much better.

  The hallways were filling up, so I smooshed my things against the bank of lockers so I wouldn't trip anyone. Lots of feet went by, and then one pair stopped to the left of my books and didn't move. I couldn't help but notice the shoes were expensive and trendy. I looked up.

  "Emili." Her voice was frigid.

  "Laine."

  "I thought I made myself clear."

  I tipped back, balancing on my heels. "About what?"

  "Jordan."

  "What about him?"

  "He's taken."

  I stacked my spiral notebooks into my locker. "So…"

  "So, keep your hands off."

  I held up both my hands and looked at her. "Hands off. Satisfied?"

  She chewed the inside of her lip and narrowed her eyes. "You serious?"

  "Are you?" Okay, being a smart-mouth with Laine wasn't going to lead me anywhere good. I stood up and straightened my loose blouse over my non-existent hips. "Look, Laine, I'm not going after anyone right now. Besides, I don't think Jordan needs protecting."

  Laine scowled. "I'm not protecting him. I'm making things clear."

  "I got your point on day one."

  "I have people, Emili. And they tell me you're all over Jordan."

  "Wow, how interesting. Have your people been watching me take a pee, too?" Whoa, I was on a roll.

  Laine's shoulders rose up to her ears, and her eyes sparked with venom. "What is your problem?"

  I backed down. "Sorry. No problems. Message received." I squatted again to finish up my locker. Her feet didn't move. Then she let out a big huffing breath and marched off.

  I shoved everything back into my locker, and cringed at my fresh mess. The bell rang, and I jumped up, crashing into Jordan.