Crazy in Love (8 page)

“So what am I supposed to do? Stay away from Jackson?”

Alicia is quiet, like she’s thinking it over. “I don’t know what to tell you, kid. A month ago, I would have said no guy is worth fighting for. Now, well, Colt’s changed everything. I’d fight a skyful of Stars for him.”

Now it’s my turn to be quiet. This is an Alicia I don’t know. The old Alicia didn’t believe in love. She admired what Red and Alex had but considered it the exception that proved her no-love rule.

“Hey, listen,” Alicia says, her voice changing, softening. “Colt just walked in. I gotta jet. Keep me posted, okay?”

“Sure. Thanks, Alicia.”

I hang up, and I’m more confused than ever. Alicia belongs to another world. I need help in this world, high school. Like it or not, I’m stuck here for seven more months. I need to talk to Cassie.

Cassie picks up on the second ring. “Hello?” I don’t think she has caller ID, because this is Cassie’s deep and raspy voice, the one she uses on guys.

“Just me, Cassie,” I say.

“Mary Jane! Man, I’m glad you called.”

This expression of gladness doesn’t make me feel better. Something’s definitely wrong. “Why?” I ask suspiciously.

“I just finished IM-ing Nicole.”

Not good. Somehow I know this. “And?”

“And she told me about you and Star.”

“Me and Star?”

“Yeah. What went on with you guys in the hall today?” Cassie asks, making it sound like she’s the district attorney, and I’m the one on trial.

“Nothing!” I protest. “Why? What did Nicole say happened? ”

“She just said Star was upset by the things you said to her. I guess Nicole and Star and Lauren and some other kids were talking about it in that chat room they hang in.”

I can’t believe this. I’m getting run over on the information highway. I am Internet roadkill. “All I said to Star was what you guys told me to say. That I was sorry if she’d heard stuff about Jackson and me and that there wasn’t anything to it.”

“So why was she so upset?” Cassie asks.

“She wasn’t! Not when she left. She waved and said good-bye like we were buddies.” I’m not sure why I don’t add the part about the evil Star threatening me. But I don’t think Cassie would believe it anyway.

“You should call Nicole and straighten this whole mess out, Mary Jane. She has to go pick up her little stepbrother in Cissna Park. She’ll have her cell with her.”

I hang up and dial Nicole. It rings four times before she answers. “What?”

“Nicole? This is Mary Jane.”

“Oh.” She doesn’t exactly sound pleased to hear from me. “What do you want?”

“I want to straighten out this whole mess with Star.”

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Late?”

“After the things you said to Star, I wouldn’t blame her if she never forgave you.” A horn blares in the background.

“Things I said to her? What did I say?”

“That you like Jackson. That you’ll do whatever you want with her boyfriend. That—”

“I didn’t say any of that!” I shout. “Did Star say I said those things?”

“You know what you said, Mary Jane,” Nicole says coolly.

“I do know. And you don’t. Because Star’s lying. And Jackson and I don’t have anything going. We joked around at Cassie’s. Big deal! And
he
came and sat by me in English. Double big deal. So if Star’s threatened by that, then she’s in bad shape in the self-confidence department.”

“You left the party together.”

“For
four
minutes!” I protest.

Nicole breathes heavily into the phone. Then silence. Finally she asks, “Mary Jane, swear to me that you and Jackson aren’t, like, going behind Star’s back.”

“Fine. I swear on a stack of pizzas, Nicole. Jackson barely knows I exist. He probably doesn’t even—” I stop. My phone’s cutting out, signaling an incoming call. “Hang on a minute, Nicole. I’m getting a call.”

I put her on hold and take the other call. “Hello?”

“Hey.” The voice on the other end is deep, strong, powerful. “Mary Jane?”

I can’t answer. I know this voice.

“Mary Jane, this is Jackson.”

10

"Mary Jane ?
"

It’s Jackson ’s voice. He’s calling my name. So this could be a dream.

“Are you there?”

But in my dreams, he never asks if I’m there. They are, after all,
my
dreams.

“Is anybody there?”

I squeeze the phone.

“Hello?” he tries.

Jackson House called me on the phone. That means he took the time to look up my number. I imagine the scene, the man’s persistence, as he pages through the
A
s, the
B
s, the
C
s . . . Maybe he writes down my number when he finds it, the touch of the pencil reminding him of his pencil gift to me. He had to punch in every single digit to dial. Was he thinking of
me
the whole time?

“Mary J—oh, well. Weird.”

He’s hanging up! He’s leaving! “Wait!” I shout into the phone.

“Mary Jane?”

“Yeah. I mean, hello.”

“This is Jackson.”

“Jackson.”

“Jackson House . . . from good ol’ Attila Ill?”

“Attila Ill.” It seems all I can do is repeat his words. I have none of my own.

“Okay. So . . .”

I know it’s my turn to speak. The voices in my head are all screaming at me, but their words clash into each other so I can’t get a single word to come out.

“You still there?” Jackson asks.

You are blowing it!
M.J.
cries.
Tell him you were hoping he’d call.

It’s got to be a wrong number,
Plain Jane
insists.
Or maybe a prank? A crank call, with the entire football team listening in? But at least
he
called
you
. Be polite. Tell him you’re on the other line.

I’m on the other line! I totally forgot about Nicole.

“Jackson,” I say, clearing my throat because my voice sounds wrinkled, “could you . . . would you . . . hold?”

“Hold?” He laughs, softly, manly. “Hold who?”

I can’t breathe, but I manage to say, “The phone?”

“Oh, that.” He sounds disappointed. I’ve disappointed Jackson House. “Okay.”

My fingers shake so much I can hardly punch the line back to Nicole. When I do, she’s hot.

“Hey! You’re using up my minutes. I’m already way over. My rents are going to kill me.”

“Sorry, Nicole.”

“Who was it?”

For one terrifying second, I think this is a trap. She and Star have somehow gotten Jackson to phone me at this exact moment. It’s a test. Will I or won’t I come clean?

But I don’t think Nicole is that smart.

“Nobody. Just homework stuff. Sorry.”

“So where were we anyway?” Nicole asks.

I try to remember. Something about Star. I could care less. All I want to do is get back to Jackson. “Just tell Star there’s nothing to be upset about, okay? See you Monday.”

“Hold on!” Nicole shouts. “I didn’t wait fifteen minutes so you could say two words. I’ll need more than this to go back to Star. I’m over my minutes anyway. A few more won’t matter. Star thinks you . . .”

I tune her out because I’m picturing Jackson tapping his foot, waiting for me to come back on the line.

“. . . more than fair, if you ask me. So are you?”

There’s a pause, and I realize Nicole has been talking and now expects some kind of answer from me. Why can’t my split personalities kick in when I need them? I could let
Plain Jane
handle Nicole, and
M.J.
could get back to Jackson.

I take a stab. “You’re right, Nicole. Whatever you say.”

“Mary Jane, what’s with you? You’re, like, not there.”

I raise my voice, going for righteous indignation. “Well, what do you expect, Nicole? All of a sudden, everybody in the whole school has turned against me! And for no reason, no matter what Star thinks.”

“You’re not blaming Star, are you?” Nicole accuses.

“Why is anybody blaming anybody?” I demand. “This whole inquisition is so out of order! Nothing’s gone on! Nothing’s going on!”

I can’t stand it another second. Jackson has probably given up on me and hung up. He’ll never call again. He’ll never speak to me again. “Nicole, I have to go.”

“Don’t you hang up on me!” Nicole threatens.

“No, no, no. I’ll be right back. Hang on.”

I punch Nicole on hold, harder than I need to, and go back to Jackson.

“Jackson, are you still there?” I hold my breath. I will die right here, under my black ceiling, if he’s gone.

“What? Oh, ’scuse me. I fell asleep.”

“I’m so sorry. We’re eating up your cell minutes and everything.”

“Not really. I’m on the phone in my bedroom.”

I fight off the X-rated image forming in my head.

“You still there, Mary Jane?”

“Yes! I’m here, in
my
bedroom.”

He laughs. “Listen, Mary Jane. I just wanted to call and make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay?” I’m repeating again.

“Yeah. I know there’s some crazy talk going around at school.”

“Crazy talk?” I have to stop this.

“About you. And actually, about me.” He sighs into the phone. I think I feel his breath.

“Yeah. About you and me,” I say, trying not to repeat exactly.

“Anyway, you probably know that Star and I have been having problems for a long time.”

I resist the urge to break out into the “Hallelujah Chorus.” Jackson and Star have been having problems! And no wonder, since she’s dating other guys behind his back.

“I know Star and her friends can be pretty protective,” he continues, as if he can’t hear me jumping on my bed. “I just don’t want you to get hurt or anything.”

“Thanks,” I say, collapsing back onto my bed. Jackson House doesn’t want me to get hurt. He is the nicest human on the face of the earth.

“Are you okay, then?” he asks.

I’m tearing up. “I’m okay,” I squeak.

A tiny light flashes on the black of my ceiling. I realize it’s the phone light blinking, reminding me that Nicole is still on hold.

I have to get rid of her. “Could you hang on for just one second?” I don’t let him answer because I couldn’t stand it if he said no.

I punch buttons. “Hey. I’m really sorry about that. So, you can talk to Star?”

“What?” But it’s Jackson’s voice. “What do you mean?”

I’m still on with Jackson! “Nothing! Sorry. I’ll be right back.”

I punch buttons again. “Nicole?”

“This is getting really old, Mary Jane. And now my bratty stepbrother’s with me. Just promise me that you and Jackson aren’t talking.”

“What?” It
is
a trap! She knows he’s talking to me on the other line!

“Or seeing each other or anything,” she adds.

I pull myself together. “Give me a break, Nicole,” I plead.

“I’ll do what I can,” Nicole promises.

I’m aching to go back to Jackson. “Thanks. See you in school tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, Mary Jane,” she explains.

“Okie doke.” I don’t think I’ve ever said “okie doke” in my whole life, and even in my confused state, I promise myself that I’ll never say it again. “Bye.” I press the button before she has a chance to start anything else.

“Hi again,” I say, pulling out my sexy
M.J
. voice. “Sorry about that. I had to get rid of somebody.”

“What?” It’s Nicole. I’ve done it again, pressed the wrong button. Somebody should commit me.

I think fast. “Uh—I had to get rid of my mom?” I clear my throat as a possible explanation for the low, sexy voice. “So now we can say good-bye. Mom’s gone. So bye, Nicole.”

“Whatever,” Nicole says. And she hangs up.

That leaves me alone with Jackson House. There is nowhere else on earth I’d rather be.

“Okay. I’m here. All yours.” As soon as I say it,
Plain Jane
calls me
slut
. But I don’t care. “Sorry that took so long.”

“Me, too,” Jackson says. “Now
I’ve
got to run.”

“Nuh-uh,” I say, sounding five years old. But it feels like he’s leaving forever, going overseas to fight in an unjust war and die for love and country.

“’Fraid so,” he says bravely. “I’m glad you’re not taking the gossip to heart.” There’s a pause. “We did have fun at Cassie’s, though. I guess I’d never seen that side of you before.”

“What side?” I want to be sure I fully display the right side from now on. Lately, I’ve had more sides than an octagon.

He laughs, and I tumble into the sound of it. “I don’t know,” he begins. “Weird that we’ve gone to the same schools and never gotten to know each other until now.”

“Yeah. Weird.” But the words repeating in my brain are “. . .
until now
. . .
until now
.” They’re right up there with “See ya.”

11

When Jackson and I
disconnect, I plop back on my bed and stare up at the black ceiling. Even it can’t spoil my mood. The ceiling is filled with images of Jackson, including imagined ones of Jackson and me. I replay every word of our conversation—editing out Nicole’s interruptions—and search for deeper meaning in all of his words. I have to fight the urge to go over all the things I
should
have said. I must believe that I’ll have another chance to say them. Soon.

The rents return and leave Sandy in my care so they can go out “on a date.” They do this more Friday nights than I would ever admit to my friends. It’s embarrassing to know that my rents have a more active dating life than I do.