Being Jamie Baker (3 page)

The entire class was now watching the confrontation with great intrigue, still trying to get over the shock of Ryan offering to be my partner. You’d think we were on
American Idol
and Simon Cowell had just complimented someone.

Mr. Edwards studied me for a moment, deliberating, and when he smiled, I thought I’d won him over, but he shook his head. “If you’re that uncomfortable with your classmates, I suppose you can interview me.”

“You?” My jaw dropped to the floor, and I heard gasps and giggles all around the room. “You want me to partner with
you
?”

“I’m not so bad,” Mr. E. said lightly.

It’s true, for a teacher he’s not that bad. He’s funny, plays the bass guitar in a band, and lets us eat in class. He’s even kind of cute. You know, for a teacher.

But still!

I couldn’t believe Mr. Edwards didn’t grasp the horror behind that idea. I may be a complete social outcast, but even I have my limits. “Can’t I just write an autobiography?”

“It’s not the same thing. You’re going to be graded on how well you can extract information during the interview process. You can’t do that with yourself.” I just sat there gaping at Mr. Edwards. He’s always given me my way. Where was this coming from? It’s just a stupid paper. And it’s not even about anything important!

The silence was broken by Ryan’s cheerful voice. “Come on, Jamie. You have to admit that I’m a better alternative than partnering with your
teacher
. No offense, Mr. E.” What other choice did I have? Mr. Edwards is one of those teachers who still cares about his students. He’s actually kept a close eye on me since his first week here, when he pegged me as one of those “troubled” teens they have seminars about in college. He’s always trying to give me pep talks and stuff. I did
not
need to give him extra opportunities to ask me if I’m okay and try to get me to see a school counselor.

Knowing about my powers or not, Ryan really was the better option. I glowered at him, but he seemed to already know that he’d gotten his way. He winked at me, and then Mr. Edwards sighed again as he scribbled down our names. “Okay, Ryan and Jamie are partners,” he said, and then muttered,

“Good luck,” to Ryan under his breath.

The smile Ryan gave me as he plopped down in the desk in front of mine was almost a victorious one. “Well, this is convenient,” he said cheerfully. “I can finally ask you for your number.”

“You won’t get it.”

“Even better, just give me your address, and I’ll come over this week.”

“Nice try.”

“We’re going to have to get together sometime.”

“Just make something up. No one will know it’s not true.”

“Won’t work.” Ryan laughed. “Even if I did, everyone knows me. They would know if you made up yours.”

“I just won’t turn one in.”

Ryan sighed, but I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t discouraged at all. It’s kind of annoying how peppy and cool under pressure he seems all the time. “Would it really kill you to go out with me?”

“Oh, so we’re talking about a date now and not just a paper?”

“It could be just about the paper, if you’d rather.”

I can be a patient person if I have to be, but the truth is, his little puppy-dog act was almost cute, so I had to get rid of him before I ended up giving in like last time. Getting to know people can be hazardous to my health, especially when it involves telling him about my past. “I’d
rather
it be neither,” I quipped, and then promptly headed out of the room.

He didn’t follow me, which I was happy about, but then Tuesday at lunch he was back, as diligent as ever and being really cute in a way that annoyed me no end. “Hey, Jamie!” Ryan greeted me as he plopped his lunch down next to mine.

“What will it take to get you to go away?”

“An interview.”

I rolled my eyes, but Ryan pulled out a notepad and pen as if he knew I would give in. “Right here, in the middle of the cafeteria so it’s not a date in any way,” he said. “No funny business, just the basics, and then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

That was almost worth it. I glared up at him, but he smiled, somehow knowing he’d just gotten his way. “Fine, what do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Okay, I like rainbows, puppies, and long walks on the beach. My dislikes include rap music, sauerkraut, and people. Mostly you.”

“Perfect.” Ryan scribbled my words down on his notepad, knowing full well I was feeding him crap. “What else?”

“There is nothing else.”

“This isn’t helping, Jamie. I’m supposed to be writing a biography, not a
Playboy
article.”

“What else do you want to know?”

“I want to know a lot. I have lots of questions about you.”

“Like?” I asked sarcastically.

“Like, the other day I was wondering why you dye your hair.” Okay, I expected him to ask where I was born or what my birthday was, but why do I dye my hair?

Where did that come from? “What?” I asked, trying not to laugh because I didn’t want him to think he was winning me over.

He smiled as though he enjoyed my confusion. “Well, you’re not Asian, and you’re not really trying for the Goth look. Not that your hair doesn’t look great with those bright green eyes, but it’s clearly not your natural color, so why the jet black?”

I thought about it for a moment. Dodging the question would have raised more suspicions than answering it, but I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I figured if he could tell the truth, then so could I. “Well, it’s naturally green,” I admitted dryly, “and the black works better than bleach.” He frowned for a second, almost daring to believe me, but then laughed. “Green?”

“And the eyes aren’t natural either, they’re blue contacts.”

“But if you’re wearing blue contacts, to get your eyes that shade of green they’d have to be—”

“Yellow.”

“So your hair is green, and your eyes are yellow?”

“Yup. Are we done yet?”

I hoped that my answers, while true, would give Ryan the hint that he wasn’t going to get a real interview out of me and he would stop. He was quiet for a second, staring at me with pure curiosity, and I could tell he was debating asking me something else.

I glared at him, breaking his stare, and when he shook himself from his daze, he smiled. “Just one more,” he said, and didn’t pause quite long enough for me to say no. “Where’d you learn to kiss like that?”

Again, Ryan was full of surprises. I was not expecting that. At the mere mention of our kiss, my heart nearly stopped. I tried to hide my reaction, but he noticed me flinch and leaned a little closer to me with a cocky grin. “Did I hit a nerve?”

“Interview’s over,” I snapped.

I probably should have tried to stumble through some kind of fake explanation because it was obvious that I was upset, but I panicked. Being in my position’s not easy, though. I mean how many times has Clark Kent been caught and had to fumble through some stupid explanation? And he’s been dealing with it his whole life. I’ve only been different for a year. And actually, since we moved here, I haven’t had to try to cover anything up yet.

When I grabbed my bag and walked out of the cafeteria, I prayed that Ryan wouldn’t follow me, just like all the other times I’d walked out on him, but no such luck today. He wasn’t exactly inconspicuous about it either.

“Jamie, wait!”

I quickened my pace, hoping I could at least get out of earshot of the curious spectators of the cafeteria, but Ryan grabbed my arm just as I got out the door. “Will you stop?” he pleaded. “I’ve been going crazy since you kissed me.”

“It was just a kiss, Ryan, that’s it! It didn’t mean anything. I might have gotten a little carried away, but it had to look good if it was going to be in front of the whole school.” I glanced around nervously, and he finally realized that I didn’t want anyone to hear this conversation because he lowered his voice and began walking me away from any people. “Just a kiss?” he asked incredulously. “I’ve never felt anything like it.” I tried to compose myself and smirked as best I could. “Are you trying to say you thought there were sparks?”

“Oh, there were definitely sparks! That kiss was hot. But that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s like I was charged up like a battery or something. I went home, ran five miles on the treadmill, and still couldn’t sleep until four in the morning.”

“So you got a little excited.”

“You had to have felt it too. Maybe that’s what they mean by chemistry.”

“We don’t have chemistry, Ryan.”

“Well, I say we do.”

“Well, I say you’re wrong.”

I tried to walk away again but he stopped me. “Then prove it. Kiss me again and tell me you feel nothing.”

“No.”

“Aren’t you even a little curious?”

Man, that must have been quite the superkiss for him too because the poor guy was trying so hard.

I actually really wanted to do it. I was probably more curious than he was, but I simply couldn’t get involved with someone. Ever.

I’d thought about that every day since I realized I was different, and the superpowered life is a lonely one indeed. I totally understand now why the heroes in the comics are always so grumpy and depressed. They can’t live their lives. I can’t get involved with Ryan no matter how much I might want to. I have too big a secret, which he can’t find out.

Even back when the accident first happened, before I realized I had powers, the doctors ran all these tests trying to figure out how I had survived, and within hours there were reporters and scientists knocking on my door. There was even this one tabloid journalist that became obsessed and started stalking me. He didn’t even know about my powers, and I had to move clear across the country to get away from him. Imagine if someone found out that I could run the round trip from Sacramento to New York in ten minutes. The stalkerazzi would be the least of my worries. The government would be here with machine guns and giant plastic bubbles. I don’t exactly want to be experimented on like I’m from Mars.

“You see?” Ryan accused, breaking me from my obsessive thoughts when I didn’t answer him.

“You are curious!”

Ryan reached his hand out to my cheek like he was going to kiss me again, and I immediately jumped back. I should have been cold to him, the way I was to Mike, but Mike made it easy, and I was finding Ryan extremely hard to resist. “I can’t,” I gasped, and then realized that I would never convince him to stop trying if I couldn’t sound like I meant it. “I won’t!” He gave me this look, and it was so sad that for the first time since this whole Ryan thing started, I wished he still had that annoying happy-go-lucky attitude. “Why do you do this to yourself?” he asked.

His tone was genuinely one of utter confusion, but it wasn’t his voice that upset me, or the sad expression on his face clearly showing that he pitied me, it was the question itself. It meant that I was doing something to myself, and whatever it was, was a bad thing. And he said it like I have some kind of
choice
. That was the worst part. I didn’t ask for this to happen to me. It’s not like I want to do this to myself.

His question made me so bitter that my body started trembling with anger. I could barely choke out a reply. “That’s not your problem.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He backed off, startled by my sudden mood swing. “But this paper is my problem, and I don’t feel comfortable cheating, so will you at least help me out and give me a little to work with?”

I felt terrible. I mean, deep down, he actually wasn’t a bad guy. He deserved a little more respect than I was giving him, and mostly I just hated to think that I’d in some way crushed those impossibly happy spirits of his. I was already depressed, confused, scared, and angry at the world. I didn’t need to feel guilty on top of it. “Fine,” I said, and then took a minute to compose myself as I scribbled my address on a piece of paper and placed it in his hand. “If you really want to get to know me, be there Friday night, right around nine.”

“Friday night? But that’s the homecoming dance.”

“Exactly.”

“But—but,” he stammered, “it’s our senior homecoming, and I’m supposed to be there. I’m nominated for king. If you’re not busy, why don’t you just go to the dance with me? You should be there as much as I should.”

“I know it’s a big night for you, but that’s why it has to be then.” I was finally able to force a small smile. “If you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly let people in. It’s kind of a trust issue. If you expect me to break the rules for you, then I have to know how bad you want it.” Ryan examined the paper in his hand with my address on it. I wasn’t sure if I had just made a really stupid decision or not, but as much as I hoped he wouldn’t show, a part of me really wanted him to come. “I don’t expect you to be there,” I said, “but I’m not likely to give second chances either, so think about it and I’ll see you Friday. Maybe.”

* * * * *

It was an impulsive decision, and one that I couldn’t take back. I’m not sure how Ryan got me to invite him over, but when he was standing right there, talking about chemistry and wanting to kiss me again, it’s like he was the one with superpowers and he Jedi mind-tricked me into handing over my address.

I even started to believe it was a good idea until I caught him staring at me at lunch the next day and realized that he might actually take me up on my offer. He was sort of smiling, but he mostly just looked like he was trying to figure me out. I felt like I was going to be sick, and I must have looked it too, because he stopped staring and actually patted the table as if he was offering me the empty seat next to him.

I looked at him like he was out of his mind and not just for show. It was honestly a crazy suggestion, and I wasn’t the only one who thought so. Becky was the first to glance my way, and when she gasped, she caught Paige Shultz’s attention. When Paige realized what Ryan had done, she accidentally sprayed the soda in her mouth all over Tamika Larson.

Paige and Tamika are sort of Becky’s ladies-in-waiting. They’re best friends and constantly talk about Becky behind her back, but they put up with her because of how close she is with Ryan. (No one is more in love with Ryan than Paige. The way she rattles on about him to anyone that will listen is nauseating.)