stupid.
Crushing on juvie D’s is so not my style. Especially juvie D’s who are man-whores.
“Never mind,” he says when he sees my expression. “It’s not my business.” My heart skips. “I’ve seen your dad golfing a lot lately,” he says conversationally. “He’s taken a couple strokes off his game.”
I struggle to contain my reaction to him and snap, “Good for my dad.”
“Another touchy subject?” He holds up his hands in mock defense. “I’d better quit while I’m ahead. Okay, back to my real question. What are you doing after school?”
I picture myself that morning, promising Mom I’ll hop the bus after school and meet her at the hospital to keep her company with Kristina. I tried to get out of it, telling Mom how much homework I have, how I need my quiet time to study properly and keep my grades up. I explained that the Honor Society is watching closely and these are crucial times for me.
“Clubs are not everything, Tess. Priorities,” she said.
I wonder if I were the one sick if she would make Kristina miss volleyball practice. I’m glad I haven’t told her about the contest, afraid she’d try to take that away from me too. Trying to sketch my ideas and get the right feel is the one thing that’s helping me stay sane.
She doesn’t care about homework or my grades. How important the whole semester is. Or that I’m being judged on more than just my academic proficiency. She doesn’t know I’m avoiding my best friend. Or that I’ve found an art contest that could change my life, but can’t connect with my muse.
She doesn’t know any of it. She never asks.
I want to ask her why Dad isn’t missing work. Why he’s spending more time at the office and more time on the golf course instead of less. Why I’m the one who has to deal.
I drop that line of thinking and focus on Nick. He’s much nicer to think about than my mom.
Focus. What am I doing after school?
Oh. My. God.
I lose my breath, imagining for a brief second that he’s going to ask me for a date. My cheeks get hotter. As if, my brain tells me. As. If.
“Um,” I fumble my words around. “Uh, family stuff. Why?”
“What about Friday?” he asks.
I stare at him. “What about it?”
“You doing anything after school Friday?”
I don’t move. Me? He is going to ask me out? I tell my stupid fluttering heart to quit it. No way. I don’t want him to ask me out. I don’t care what my body is saying.
He needs something. He’s probably trying to find out more about Kristina. He is in the fan club after all. Even though he doesn’t know the group is about to disperse due to problems with the leader.
My lips press tight and I swallow. “Why?”
He flashes another smile. “Man, you’re not exactly an easy person to ask a question.”
My heart continues tapping out a fast tango. My cheeks are like a forest fire blazing out of control. “What question? Access to my sister or maybe a loan?” My mouth snaps out the insults without my permission.
His eyes narrow and he frowns.
I curse my brain for not stopping my mouth from spewing out words, and then he surprises me by throwing back his head and laughing.
“Your sister or a loan, huh?” he says. “Tess, why won’t you just answer my question?”
“I got to go.” I turn and run, heading for my bike as fast as my sneakers will take me.
I’m relieved yet bummed when his footsteps don’t follow. Deep down, a part of me is developing an unhealthy crush on that boy, and that’s so not a good thing. I don’t want to have a crush on a senior who gets drunk at parties, drives around volleyball girls, and thinks my sister is hot. Even I have enough sense to predict the outcome of that one.
My crushes are not usually so ridiculous. I tend to covet boys who don’t actually talk to me. Like celebrities. Or famous artists. My pheromones tend to hone in on unattainable intellectual types. Not that Nick is attainable. God! My face breaks out into a fresh
Crushing on juvie D’s is so not my style. Especially juvie D’s who are man-whores.
“Never mind,” he says when he sees my expression. “It’s not my business.” My heart skips. “I’ve seen your dad golfing a lot lately,” he says conversationally. “He’s taken a couple strokes off his game.”
I struggle to contain my reaction to him and snap, “Good for my dad.”
“Another touchy subject?” He holds up his hands in mock defense. “I’d better quit while I’m ahead. Okay, back to my real question. What are you doing after school?”
I picture myself that morning, promising Mom I’ll hop the bus after school and meet her at the hospital to keep her company with Kristina. I tried to get out of it, telling Mom how much homework I have, how I need my quiet time to study properly and keep my grades up. I explained that the Honor Society is watching closely and these are crucial times for me.
“Clubs are not everything, Tess. Priorities,” she said.
I wonder if I were the one sick if she would make Kristina miss volleyball practice. I’m glad I haven’t told her about the contest, afraid she’d try to take that away from me too. Trying to sketch my ideas and get the right feel is the one thing that’s helping me stay sane.
She doesn’t care about homework or my grades. How important the whole semester is. Or that I’m being judged on more than just my academic proficiency. She doesn’t know I’m avoiding my best friend. Or that I’ve found an art contest that could change my life, but can’t connect with my muse.
She doesn’t know any of it. She never asks.
I want to ask her why Dad isn’t missing work. Why he’s spending more time at the office and more time on the golf course instead of less. Why I’m the one who has to deal.
I drop that line of thinking and focus on Nick. He’s much nicer to think about than my mom.
Focus. What am I doing after school?
Oh. My. God.
I lose my breath, imagining for a brief second that he’s going to ask me for a date. My cheeks get hotter. As if, my brain tells me. As. If.
“Um,” I fumble my words around. “Uh, family stuff. Why?”
“What about Friday?” he asks.
I stare at him. “What about it?”
“You doing anything after school Friday?”
I don’t move. Me? He is going to ask me out? I tell my stupid fluttering heart to quit it. No way. I don’t want him to ask me out. I don’t care what my body is saying.
He needs something. He’s probably trying to find out more about Kristina. He is in the fan club after all. Even though he doesn’t know the group is about to disperse due to problems with the leader.
My lips press tight and I swallow. “Why?”
He flashes another smile. “Man, you’re not exactly an easy person to ask a question.”
My heart continues tapping out a fast tango. My cheeks are like a forest fire blazing out of control. “What question? Access to my sister or maybe a loan?” My mouth snaps out the insults without my permission.
His eyes narrow and he frowns.
I curse my brain for not stopping my mouth from spewing out words, and then he surprises me by throwing back his head and laughing.
“Your sister or a loan, huh?” he says. “Tess, why won’t you just answer my question?”
“I got to go.” I turn and run, heading for my bike as fast as my sneakers will take me.
I’m relieved yet bummed when his footsteps don’t follow. Deep down, a part of me is developing an unhealthy crush on that boy, and that’s so not a good thing. I don’t want to have a crush on a senior who gets drunk at parties, drives around volleyball girls, and thinks my sister is hot. Even I have enough sense to predict the outcome of that one.
My crushes are not usually so ridiculous. I tend to covet boys who don’t actually talk to me. Like celebrities. Or famous artists. My pheromones tend to hone in on unattainable intellectual types. Not that Nick is attainable. God! My face breaks out into a fresh
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