Slow Burn (37 page)

Wha
t?  I flinch away from him.  Why is he looking at me like that?

Mr. Rigby flashes a sympathetic smile, and pats me on the shoulder.  “Come see me after lunch.  And don’t skip eating this time!  Can’t have you fainting in class again, Jennifer.”

I nod my head obediently.  “Yes, sir.”

His smile grows even wider
until he’s positively beaming.  “Good, good.  I will see you in my office.  Now hurry to class before you get another tardy slip.”

“Okay.”

I didn’t intend to make a liar out of Jennifer, but when it’s time to head over to the cafeteria, I just can’t do it.  It’s been a weird day.  I could handle Nick’s apologetic looks in Government, and Kara’s bizarre fake nice attempts at conversation (thankfully Arianna is her usual bitchy self)—but when I run into Johnny on my way to the bathroom—and he barely acknowledges me with a nod—I just can’t.  I hide out in my car, and eat crackers.  Actually, it’s not so bad in here.  I can eat in peace, and listen to music, while playing that addictive candy game on my phone.

It’s the perfect set up—until a scowling teacher raps on my window, catching me with a mouthful of crackers, bopping my head around to a song playing on my phone.  Turns out, you can’t hang out in the parking lot during school hours.  Never mind that groups of other kids are out there as well.  One guy is even selling
soap from the trunk of his Mercedes.  But I’m the one who gets busted.  So typical.

To cheer me up, Heather picks me up after work for a double date with Ben and Arianna. 
We meet them at the movies, and Heather and Arianna giggle to each other, and share popcorn while Ben and I play a drawing game on our phones.  No one mentions Johnny, and that’s just fine with me.

On Friday, Mack grabs me at my locker and refuses to put me down until I agree to come to his party tonight after the game.  Though I’m gasping for oxygen, I manage to tell him that I promised to go to a party with Heather. Then to distract him, I ask if my friend, Tanya Copeland, can go to his party. 

Mack looks puzzled for a moment, then his face clears.  “Oh, the cute girl with all the hair?  Yeah, yeah, she’s in my French class
.  Sure, she can come!  Actually, I think Nick might have a thing for her.”

He says it in a joking way, but it gives me an unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach.  Though highly unlikely, what if they hooked up—and Nick accidentally lets it slip about that night?  It would be all over school!
  I almost don’t want to tell Tanya about Mack’s party after that, but I know she’ll be thrilled at the invite, so I tell her the news in Biology.  She’s so excited, she gives a little scream right there in class.  Nobody reacts, not even Sepulveda, who’s been staring wistfully at the back of her hands for the past few minutes.

“Do you think I can bring Bobo?” Tanya asks, leaning toward me.  Her curls are fairly springing with joy.

“Um, yeah.  I guess.  He’s not going to start any trouble or anything, is he?” I ask worriedly.  “I heard he doesn’t really get along with Mack’s group.”

“Y
ou mean that thing with Johnny?  Ancient history.”  Tanya waves her hand dismissively.  “He’ll behave—I promise.  Oh, he told me he asked you out—and at first you said yes, but then you turned him down later.  Is that true?”

She sticks her face close to mine, dark eyes avid with curiosity.  Instinctively, I pull away.  “I’m not ready to date yet,” I mutter, looking away.  “I shouldn’t have said yes in the first place.”

“Oh, well, don’t feel too bad.  Bobo likes to ask out every girl he meets.  It’s like a social experiment for him.”  Tanya shrugs and rolls her eyes at the same time.  “So it’s not like you broke his heart, or anything.”

Bobo is a player
?  I’m amused, but kind of offended.  Tanya quickly changes the subject, talking about what she’ll wear to the party.  I don’t get the chance to tell her I won’t be going.  I really did promise Heather I’d go to Tamara Fife’s party with her.  It’s a huge deal for her because Sloane’s coming!  But…there seems to be some confusion as to whether Sloane knows that she’s Heather’s date.  That’s where I come in—as the back-up, in case events take an awkward turn.  How could they, right?  But tonight is important to Heather, and I’m going to be there to support her no matter what.

I’m actually looking forward to going.  Despite what I might have implied before, I miss my former school, and most of my old classmates.  I’ve only k
ept in touch with Tamara online, but she’s great.  Like Heather, she can be friends with anyone, and her parties are always a cool mix of people.  It will be fun to catch up with the Jefferson gang—as long as no one asks me about Johnny. 

“I heard you and Johnny Parker broke up!”

“Did Johnny really cheat on you?”

“I saw him at Frizby’s with Janelle Lopez—my little brother’s best friend’s sister goes to Valley with her!  They were all over each other!”

“Juliet!  Did you really throw oranges at Johnny when you caught him cheating on you with some girl at homecoming?!”

This is only a sample of what I hear all night.  Some are sympathetic, some are snide—Healani Bauer and Elena Moran, two of the acknowledged prettiest girls at school, are gleeful (yet oddly non-malicious).  They’ve always been absently nice to me, but tend to start really offensive comments off with, “no offense, but—”

“
No offense, but you two weren’t really in the same…league,”  Healani says after they corner me in the kitchen.  “So it must be kind of a relief, right?  I mean, he must’ve always had girls way prettier than you after him all the time.”

“Actually,” I begin, holding up a finger,  “Johnny told me it’s a relief being with someone slightly hideous.  He said
really pretty girls are high maintenance.”

“Really?”
  Elena tilts her head to the side, pondering.  “Oh, yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“He also said that guys prefer plain girls because we have to try harder.”  I widen my eyes in sincerity.  “You know?
  We do.”

At this point, they’re both staring at me, not quite dumb enough to miss the sarcasm in my expression.  Then Healani lets out an uncertain little laugh, and I take that as my cue to clumsily sidle away.

Now I really want to lock myself in a bathroom, and go through all my pics of me and Johnny together (yes, I still have a few on my phone) to see just how mismatched we really were.  I thought we had looked good together, both of us with an unconventional attractiveness.  Or maybe I was the unconventional and he was attractive.  Whatever.  It’s not like I haven’t heard this before.  I don’t know, I guess I’m feeling sorry for myself again. 

I want to whine to Heather about it so she can kiss it and make it better, but she’s having so much fun right now.  Sloane is a big hit,
and everyone is in awe of her.  She stays close to Heather the whole time.  I don’t know what to make of it, but when I try to move in to interrogate her, I feel someone slowly reeling me back by my long hair.

“Don’t even think about it, Jujubee,” Heather sing-songs in my ear.

“What?  I say innocently, rubbing the back of my head.  “I wasn’t gonna do anything.”

“Sure you weren’t
,” she mutters.  She flashes a bright smile at Sloane, who’s looking our way.  Then she says out of the corner of her mouth, “I’m fine, Jule.  Go have fun—and stop worrying about me.”

And just like that, I’m dismissed.  Heather prances back to Sloane, who is now glancing around at her surroundings in a slightly puzzled way, like she’s not sure how she came to be surrounded by such mediocrity.

Okay.  I know when I’m not wanted.

Tanya’s been texting me every few minutes with updates on her night.  According to h
er, Johnny was a total beast in the game against Farron, and is now hanging out in Big Mack’s heated pool with a blonde—who, according to one of her sources, is an out of town friend visiting Hayley Dixon, a cheerleader.

I decide not to acknowledge that, but then she sends me a crystal
clear pic of Johnny, looking sexy in his dark blue board shorts, and a tall girl in a red bikini with what looks to be some kind of snake or dragon tattoo visible on one of her shoulders.  She’s leaning cozily against his side while his head is turned, and he appears to be talking to someone off camera.

I immediately save the attachment so I can zoom in on the picture.  I stare so hard at it, the image feels tattooed onto my retinas.  His hand is
on her hip, and hers is resting casually on his stomach—the kind of touch that says, “Hey, Juliet!  Guess where my hand was thirty minutes ago?”

I guess deep down, I didn’t really believe Johnny was seeing other girls
—but I’m looking at the photographic evidence right now, so…yeah.  Well, guess now there’s no doubt he’s moved right on.  Good for him. 

I’m inexplicably
mad at Tanya, though I don’t think she sent the pic to deliberately torture me.  She thinks she’s looking out for me by spying on him, but it kind of makes me want to punch her.  My thumbs, acting independently of my brain, starts furiously texting a response:

I am licking chocolate sauce off the body of an incredibly hot guy right now.  Want me to send you a pic?

And send!  Seconds later, I receive a reply.

Dean:  No thanks

Wait—what?  Oh, shit!  I sent that to Dean!  How the hell did I do that?!  Mortified, I quickly type back.

Me:  Sorry that was meant for someone else as a joke!

Dean:  Ok

Me:  Seriously!  There is no guy!

I grab Tamara and her friend, Josie—and snap a pic of the three of us making duck faces at the camera.  Then I send it to Dean, as if that’s proof that—oh, damn it, I should have looked at it before I hit send.  Tamara’s boyfriend, Charles, totally photobombed us.  Ugh, why is he pretending to lick
my
head?

A couple of minutes go by, then I get another text.

Dean:  Where are you

Me:  Party with my old Jefferson classmates!  R u still at Mack’s?

Dean:  Cut out
early.  Got some things to do

Me:  Want some company?
  This party blows.

Why did I just type that?  How rude am I?  I’m only joking, but that doesn’t come across in a text message—unless you put an emoji, or something.  I hastily compose a retraction, but Dean’s reply comes in before I can finish it.

Dean:  What’s the address?

Wow, he’d really let me tag along?  I bite my lip, considering.  Oh, why not?  I’m curious to see what Dean Youngblood does in his spare time—and my enjoyment of this party ended with the Healani and Elena encounter, anyway.  After only a brief hesitation, I text him Tamara’s address.  He replies that he’ll be there in fifteen minutes.  I’m actually kind of excited.  I don’t want to be here, anymore.  The mix of loud music and loud voices is starting to give me a headache, and I have to work to fake smile my way through questions about Johnny.  I could use some fresh air, and the company of someone’s who’s quiet, and really pretty to look at.

Well, he is.

*******

Chapter 29

I try to get Heather’s attention to let her know I’m leaving, but she’s very busy thrilling a crowd of people with one of her
hilarious stories.  She’s behaving herself for Sloane tonight—I haven’t seen a drink in her hand once.  Sloane, however, looks slightly glassy-eyed.  I don’t know if she’s on something, or just bored.  I hope it’s the latter.  I send a text to Heather to let her know I’m leaving with Dean, and to call me if she needs me.

I have to admit, I thought about having Dean come into the house to get me
—because how awesome would it be to see the looks on everyone’s faces when
that
comes walking through the door—for me! 

But, no, I couldn’t objectify Dean like that.  Not without him realizing
it.  So I say my goodbyes to everyone and wait outside at the curb.  I’m sure Dean would prefer it that way.  Exactly fifteen minutes from his last text, his badass Pontiac rumbles up to me.  There are a few nosy people hanging out on the lawn and watching me, so I quickly hop into the passenger side before Dean can get out and open the door for me.

I settle into the leather seat and breathe in the scent of freshly lau
ndered clothes and warm male.  It makes me think of Christmas morning, and I give Dean a big smile.  “Hi!  Where are we going?”

He gives me a quick sidelong glance as he pulls away from the curb.  “
Sunlit City.”

I raise both eyebrows in surprise.  “On the coast?  Wh
at’s going to be open at eleven at night?”

“My uncle.  He lives there.”

“Oh.  Isn’t it kind of late to go visiting?”