Between These Lines (A Young Adult Novel) (2 page)

“Yes,”
Tara stepped closer and tilted her chin. “You want an A, don’t you Evie?”

She
said it like that’s all there was to it. Just a grade. Nothing more. I stole a
peek down the corridor. It was practically empty except for one person,
lingering on purpose, staying away from everyone else. And the effect it had on
me was like two poles magnetically connected.

Tara
stuck her tongue against her teeth and looked around, “After all, it’s an
assigned project. You
have
to do this.”

“Like
your name wasn’t on that list too.”

“Don’t
try to act like this project means nothing to you, Eves. We both know it’s more
than the grade.”

I
stepped away from Tara’s side and proceeded down the hall. My heart was in my
throat, but I flipped my hair over my shoulder and marched right up to Chase Mitman
as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and began fiddling with the
dial on the locker next to his.

“You
lost?” he asked.

I
stared at the locker in front of me, suddenly forgetting why I had walked up to
him in the first place. I’d never stood this close to Chase, ever, let alone
articulated a single syllable to him.

I
felt sweaty. I felt like walking back to Tara. Then I remembered I couldn’t do
that. Tara had more than dared me to approach him, and my fear turned to
determination.

“I
thought we could get a head start on the project.”

His
eyes strayed beyond my shoulder and I knew he’d spied the instigator sidekick
of mine, smirking somewhere off in the distance. “Yeah, about that,” he turned
back to his locker without another look my way. “I work best alone.”

Tara’s
presence burned behind my back and before I could stop myself, the words
slipped from my mouth. “We have to work on it together. It’s a done deal.” I
concentrated on the dial that spun between my fingers. I closed my eyes and
swallowed. It wasn’t my fault that I was here bugging him about the assignment.
It’s not like he’d be the one to ask
me
. What was wrong though was the
fact that I was enjoying this—the idea of being paired up with him, the
idea of being near him. He smelled good. His starched, white shirt crinkled as
he reached into his locker. I felt myself leaning a little closer this time,
knowing Tara was undoubtedly enjoying this, which was just the fuel I needed.
“So . . . come to lunch with me.”

There
was a hopeful pause as he grabbed the brown lunch bag from the top shelf. “I
don’t think so.”

And
then the unthinkable happened. I reached for the dial I’d been playing with,
only it was his, and Chase’s hand was still attached to it.

I
pulled my hand away as the red in my face grew to an unbearable temperature and
hurried back to Tara, preparing myself for the onslaught of
don’t you feel
stupid
and
I told you so
she was surely dying to pummel me with. But
instead, she looked behind me and rolled her eyes.

Then
the crinkle of a lunch bag broke the silence. “I guess it’s not a bad idea to
start that project, after all.”

My
heart leapt and sank at the same time. It leapt because he’d said yes.

It
sank for too many reasons to count.

Chapter Three

Chase

I followed
two steps behind, down the hall toward the main foyer, where the smell of
biscuits and glazed chicken filled the air, and concentrated on the bag at my
side rather than the two girls in front of me. The Monkey Bread I’d been
craving all morning was wrapped in wax paper, swinging to and fro, along with
whatever else Aunt Claudie decided to surprise me with. Now, as I walked into
the crowded dining hall, I wasn’t very hungry anymore.

Tara
pushed the double doors wide open and sauntered in with an aloofness that was
all hers. If she wanted a grand entrance, she didn’t get one. But
Evie—she was another story.

Everything
always quieted a little whenever she walked in. Not a lot. Not to the point
where you heard crickets chirping, but enough to notice something beautiful had
just walked into the room. Today was a different story, though. The room hushed
like usual, but the crazy thing was, it wasn’t Evie they were interested in, it
was
me.

Evie
followed Tara up to the counter then turned. “Want a tray?”

I
held up my wimpy lunch bag and swung it to and fro.

“Suit
yourself.” She shrugged.

I
never bought, ever, yet here I was standing in the lunch line with school’s
most popular girls. The bag I carried was a beacon, a homing signal, to
everyone at the tables that shouted that I was out of place.

“They
won’t eat you, so stop acting like you’re part of the meal,” Tara blurted.

But
I knew better than that. They certainly could. Kids were cruel. I grabbed a
tray, resting my brown bag on top. The Monkey Bread would have to wait. I
couldn’t help looking over my shoulder at the far end of the dining hall. That
was where I usually ate. Alone. Away from the drama.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was
beginning to regret my idea of saying yes to Evie.

“This
way,” Tara motioned with the flick of her hand.

We
followed her to a table where Max Decatur and Sienna Warren, close friends of
Shane’s, were already seated, and I watched their eyes widen with the
realization that I was sitting at, rather than walking past, their table. I flinched
a little as Sienna’s nose wrinkled. She looked at

Max
as if he had the answer, but he offered none.

Tara
cleared her throat. “This is Chase. You know Chase, right?”

Sienna
smiled wanly as Max reluctantly offered his closed fist across the table. I
tapped mine to it. Tara’s fork jabbed at the food on her plate as if a piece
had somehow gotten past the cook and was still alive. “See, one big happy
group,” she murmured then inched herself away from my chair.

“You
seem to know Sylvia Plath’s work,” Evie turned to me, ignoring the others.

I
stared down at the tray and slid the food together until it was one big lump in
the center of the plate and gave a nod. Inside I was kicking myself—for
agreeing to come to lunch, for agreeing to talk about the project, and
especially for not saying anything now that we were sitting here.

Evie
had me tongue-tied. It was one thing to look at her, maybe even drool a little,
from the back of a classroom, but sitting next to her was way more than I could
take. The back of the room called to me. It took every ounce of determination
not to pick my tray up and head back there, alone.

I
felt Max’s stare from across the table.

“What?”
I quickly turned to Evie to find her face pink with embarrassment.

Way
to go, moron.

“I
was just saying how this isn’t as painful as I thought it would be.” Her voice
grew small as she peered over her shoulder. “You always eat by yourself back
there.”

The
thought of Aunt Claudie’s untouched Monkey Bread annoyed me, but Tara Reynolds
annoyed me more. She scooted toward the opposite end of the table like I was
live contagion, shooting daggers of exasperation with each scrape of her chair.
No matter how low we kept our voices, heads turned toward our table. I was on
display and couldn’t help feeling irritated.

Evie
tossed her head, set her chin, and began talking about the English Lit paper;
devising a plan on how to set it up, how to outline, who would type what. I was
averaging a hundred in that class and about to tell her my paper was all set,
outlined weeks ago and now typed, bound and waiting in the plastic report cover
all ready to go, when something stopped me. It was the way she tripped over her
words, struggling to reel me in. Despite the assignment set in motion by Mr.
Floyd, Evie had the power to switch study partners. It was one of the perks of
being Shane’s girl. Yet, here she was, sitting with me, talking with me,
strategizing. Like she
wanted
to.

Whatever
the reason was, whatever prompted her sudden interest in me, I didn’t have the
heart to back out first. I didn’t
want
to. So I agreed to everything she
said, which put a smile on her face.

Voices
whispered throughout the room. Sticking out like a sore thumb seemed to
intensify my sense of hearing and I was able to catch conversations from the
nearby tables; some negative, some merely intrigued by something new to watch
while eating. Like dinner theater, only not. I made eye contact with some kids
seated closest to us, then looked away. While some couldn’t mask their
curiosity, others seemed downright against my sitting with Evie and her
friends.

Evie
tensed beside me and I followed her line of vision across the room. Debate had
ended early and Shane and his friends were striding toward us. There was no
time to ask what she planned on telling him. My head filled with excuses. Why
was I here? Even I didn’t know.

“You
didn’t save me a seat.” Shane stood behind Evie and placed his hands on her
shoulders.

All
eyes were on us but I only felt his bearing down on me, as if my sitting here
had tainted
his
table, and I knew, without a doubt, I would be sitting
somewhere else tomorrow - preferably at another school. My chair scraped the
floor beneath me as I made an attempt to stand and offer my seat. Showing Shane
some respect might let me off easy. Besides, I was finished with putting up
with the stares.

I
rose, but Shane’s hand reached out and pushed me back down with a tension he
held back, so as not to cause a scene. He grabbed an empty chair from the
neighboring table and settled himself between me and Evie. The others who had
returned from Debate with Shane: Alex

Fitzgerald,
Jake Shellinger and two more whose names escape me now, joined us with
curiosity.

“And
you’re sitting here because?”
 

“I
asked him to lunch,” Evie interrupted Shane. “We’re working on a project for
English Lit.”

If
it were as simple as that, then why was Evie getting all worked up? I watched
as her eyes dropped to her lap where she picked at her nails. Was there more to
her inviting me to lunch than being study partners? I felt my heart begin to
pound in my chest then quickly extinguished the idea. This wasn’t the time to
analyze Evie’s feelings, or my odd place among them, no matter how much I
wanted to.

A
surface friendly slap met my back. “A friend of Evie’s is a friend of mine.”
Through all the gloss and charm, the real message was plain and clear.
“Evie’s
business is my business. Go behind my back and I’ll break your legs.”

Shane
gave my back another awkward slap that made me flinch, “Chase and I go way
back, don’t we?” His eyes dug into mine.

Evie
stared at me while Shane grinned away, challenging me, testing the waters if I
was up for it.

“Yeah,
good to see you too,” I lied as I stood, balancing the lunch tray in my hands.
There was no way I was going to sit here any longer and pretend to kiss his
ass. Saying it was good to see him was already pushing it.

“Yeah,
likewise,” he replied curtly.

I
watched Evie flash me a smile, not missing how her eyes darted uneasily between
us. With blinders on, I made my way across the claustrophobic room toward the
doors, tossing my lunch bag into the garbage on the way out.

Chapter Four

Evie

Shane
looked at my half-eaten lunch. “You look nervous. Any reason why?”

“I’m
not nervous.” But my smile felt completely unconvincing. It was a mask. An
absolute lie.
 

The
look on his face was a familiar one; one that tried to catch me in some way,
and I looked back, hoping my calmness would prove his suspicions wrong. He
never used to be like this, especially when we first started going out. He was
sweet and trusting and now . . . well, things were different now.

The
attention focused on our table was gone now that Chase had left, but there were
still plenty of eyes to take notice of a strained look shared between Shane and
I, or the slight distance I was trying to place between us.

“So,
English Lit, huh?” he said, placing a finger to his chin and striking a pose
reminiscent of a great thinker. This, of course, garnered waves of laughter
from the others, Tara included, who I noticed was watching us closely from the
sidelines.

Max
seemed to take Shane’s clowning around as a golden opportunity to poke fun, and
stood on his chair, hand over his heart and recited to a red-cheeked Sienna,
“Oh, lettuce green, you ache my spleen. Why art thou so mean?”

The
others howled hysterically. Then Max toppled off his chair, which ultimately
earned even more of an uproar.

Shane
put his arm around my shoulders and leaned in close. “You know, I’m somewhat of
a poet myself. If you need a tutor, all you have to do is ask.”