13 to Life by Shannon Delany Page B

Round two.
    There was no escaping it. As an editor of the school paper, I needed to attend. Besides, didn’t I want to watch Derek on the football field, leading Junction’s Jackrabbits to victory?
    I sighed and tried to fix my hair in the mirror. “Ugh!” My fingers still trembled from the fight. Why did I bother trying tofix unfixable things? Fixing my mop of mousy brown hair here and now was like a metaphor for my life—wrong place, bad timing, never the right tools to solve the problem. But I kept trying. Stubbornly stumbling forward.
    Now my failure was all brought into glaring focus in Junction High’s girl’s bathroom. Under fluorescent light. Because if I was going to suffer, my suffering should absolutely be illuminated by the worst lighting ever.
Crap.
It was official. My hair couldn’t get worse unless it caught fire. The hum of the fluorescents overhead didn’t reassure me that wouldn’t happen next.
    Of course it wasn’t as if I’d see Derek before the bonfire—probably not even before the game wound up. All I had to do was wash the last bit of blood off my knuckles. “Out, damned spot,” I whispered, quoting Lady Macbeth as I cranked the faucet on to rub the stain away with fierce fingers.
    I’d get on the bus and head home. I’d clean up there. Regroup. Figure out what was going on with this Derek and Jenny mess and where I fit in with Derek—if I really did at all.
    After the bus ride. After sitting by Pietr, with my luck.
    “Crap, crap,
crap
!”
    At least Lady Macbeth believed her Hell was murky. My newest version of Hell was crystal clear—lean and handsome, with a soft Russian accent and a frustratingly mysterious past. Ever-present. And yeah, he’d probably be at the bonfire and game, too. And if I compared him to Hell in front of my friends? Amy would just point out that Hell was supposed to be hot.
    And Pietr Rusakova was at least that.
    When I finally boarded the bus, Pietr was already there. I took the remaining seat across the aisle, nodded to my seatmate, Stella Martin, and began to watch Pietr surreptitiously.
    Pinned beside the window by some anonymous freshman, Pietr stared out at the other kids hurrying to their buses. But he didn’t react to any of them, didn’t seem to actually see them. Then he shifted and turned, looking straight at me. He scrutinized my expression, eyes tracing over my forehead, traveling around my eyes as I felt their edges crinkle in response to his odd deliberation, and finally his gaze rested on my lips. Lips that betrayed me by twitching into a nervous smile.
Dammit
.
    He turned back to the window.
    “He really likes you, Jessie.” Stella’s whisper was weighted with happiness and awe. “You two should sit together. . . .”
    “No. No, Stella,” I protested as she began gathering her things. I wanted to apologize for being rude to Pietr, sure, but sit beside him on the way home? I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression.
    But Stella was already squeezing past me to stand in the aisle as the bus bounced forward, rumbling to life.
    Our driver glared into the rearview mirror at her. “Stella—take a seat!”
    “Yes, Stella,” I urged, scooting over to the window. “Sit.”
    “I will in a minute.” She frowned at me. “How hard is it to get something good out of life for once, Jessie?”
    Pietr watched our exchange.
    “Pietr,” Stella began, “I would like to sit here. Beside—” She looked pointedly at the freshman. Sweat glazed his upper lip as he realized he was embroiled in the affairs of upperclassmen.
    “Billy,” he muttered, straightening in his seat. He rubbed at his upper lip. The faintest trace of a mustache grew there.
    Stella appeared suitably impressed.
    “Beside
Billy,
” she said. “Pietr, would you please sit over there with Jessie?”
    Pietr bared his teeth in a charming smile. “Billy,” he said, “it appears you are getting a much more attractive companion.”
    Stella beamed at Pietr as he brushed