Slow Burn (9 page)

“Mmph.  Uh-huh.”  She fans her face after taking a big bite of her spicy chicken.  “Every time Derek visits me at the office, Yanni stands there and glares at him, and mumbles
what I’m pretty sure are curses in his native tongue.  It’s like you say—kinda scary, but kinda hot.”

“
So not hot.  Speaking of not hot, you have some sauce on your chin—left…down—you got it.  So, how’s Uncle Derek?  I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Michelle wipes her mouth with a napkin, smearing her lipstick a little.  “Yeah, he’s been busy at work.  I haven’t seen too much of him either, truthfully.  I think he’s avoiding me, and the whole baby issue.
  We’ve been fighting.  A lot.”

It’
s my turn to give her sympathy.  Michelle and Derek have been trying for six years to have a baby.  Obviously, something’s wrong.  But Michelle wants to conceive naturally, believing that if it’s meant to be, then nature will take its course.  Derek, on the other hand, is all for medical intervention.  Both desperately want a baby.  I feel so bad.  They would make wonderful parents.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her.  “It really sucks that you guys have to go through this.”

“It’s okay,” she says, trying to wave off her sadness.  “Anyway…you know what I think?  Making a baby should be hard—it should be heartbreaking, and something you have to work for…because when it happens, then it truly feels like a miracle.  Maybe if making babies weren’t so easy for most people, then there wouldn’t be all these neglected children in the world.  When I finally get to hold that baby in my arms—man, I swear I will always treasure him or her.”

My heart is so heavy for her.  But hearing her say something like that—it helps put things into perspective for me.  Me and my problems do not make up the universe—we are just a tiny speck in
a world full of possibilities.  And hope.  As long as you’re alive, there is always hope.  That’s what I see in Michelle’s eyes right now.  And I’m so proud of her, proud to call her my au—

Blaaarp!!!

“Excuse me,” Michelle mutters, covering her mouth.  “Whoa, that was some spicy chicken!  Uh, I think we’d better go.  Yeah, let’s go.”

I quickly throw down a twenty
, not daring to look up.  “I’ll meet you in the car.”

Later, when she’s dropping off me at the apartment, I swing my legs out of the car, but I turn back to face her.  “She still loves him, you know?” I confide.

Michelle nods, unsurprised.  “And he still loves her.  B
ut, sometimes, it isn’t enough.  Sometimes you have to ask yourself if the person you’re with makes you happy enough to forgive the misery they’ve caused.”

Johnny, eyes full of apologies
…

Acid boils in my stomach.  I step out of the ca
r onto the sidewalk.  “Some things can’t be forgiven,” I say bitterly.

******

Chapter 7

I wish I could say I spent the weekend in an empowered state of mind, but I would be totally lying.
  I spend all of Saturday singing songs about love and heartbreak, at the top of my lungs, while crying my eyes out.  I freak my dad out so bad that he locks himself in his room for the rest of the night.  I also have to physically restrain myself from going to Johnny’s online profile, and checking to see if Laundry Room Girl is on his friends list.  Instead of giving in to that dumb urge, I unfriend him.  I’m not going to stalk him online—I’m going to try my hardest not to, anyway. 

Sunday is awful
.  Johnny breaks my heart over and over again by refusing to leave me alone once I’m back from my dad’s.  He camps out on my front porch and says he won’t budge until I forgive him.  He’s drunk.  I have to call Nick and Mack to come get him before the police show up.  It’s completely mortifying.  He shouts my name over and over as they drag him away.  Part of me cringes at the angst and the drama—the bigger part of me is like, “Yeah, your ass
better
be out there screaming my name!”  I am so twisted.

I honestly don’t know how I’m going to handle seeing him at school tomorrow.
  It’s going to hurt, and it’s going to suck.

I cannot go to school today—there are rabid bats loose in my stomach.  I’m going to be sick.

My phone starts jangling with
Heather’s kooky ringtone.  I reluctantly reach for it.

“Get your ass out of bed!” she bellows before I can say a word.

“No!” I snap, throwing my blanket over my head.  “I have to stay home.  Something’s wrong with me.”

“Yeah, you’re a big baby.  You’re going.”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t make me come ov
er there and drag you out by your hair,” Heather threatens.  “Come on, Juliet!  Have some pride.”

“Ugh!” I flip the covers off of me.  “Fine!  I’m getting up.  Happy?”

“Thrilled.”  Her cheerful laughter makes me want to stab something.  “Text me later, ‘kay?”

“Sure.  Have a terrible day at school.”

“Back at you.  Love you!”

“Gr.”

I hate when she’s right.  I stumble into bed and head straight for the shower.  I love my showers.  I could stand there all day, shutting out the rest of the world.  I don’t even care if I get all prune-y.

Finally, reluctantly, I get out and dry off.  I stand in front of the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door, and stare resolutely at my reflection.

“You’re single now,” I tell myself.  “But that’s okay—you’ve been single for most of your life.  You’ll be fine.  But why did you have to change schools, you stupid, stupid cow?”

I smack my forehead into the glass for good measure, and then I have to laugh at myself through the pain.  I was so looking forward to this day, and now…I just want it to be over with.

I choose pretty underwear, just because.  The Leclare uniform is actually cute.  Since it’s warm weather, I have a choice between the polo shirt and the shirt and blazer.  I slip on the blue polo with the Leclare crest, and the pleated charcoal gray skirt that goes with it.  It looks good on me, and I’m relieved.  I pull my hair back with a hair band, and put on a little more makeup than usual.   Depending on how I apply it, I can either be the picture of innocence, or the slutty school girl.  I go for the slutty school girl.  It could be a mistake.  Yeah, it’s probably a mistake, but it’s too late now.

I’m unlocking my car door when Nick’s Range Rover pulls up.  He parks at the curb, and the passenger window slides down, revealing Mack’s smiling face.  His massive frame seems a little squished in the front seat.

“
What up, Juliet!” he calls out.  “Your chariot awaits!”

“What
?”  Laughing, I walk over to the car.  “What are you guys doing here?”

Nick gets out of the driver’s side, and jogs around to me.  He looks good in his uniform
—very hot rich boy in the polo shirt and gray slacks.

“We’re here to give you a ride,” he says, holding the backseat door open for me.  He flashes
his little boy grin at me.  “Good morning, Juliet.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need a ride.  I have a car.”  I gesture to my reliable little Nissan.

“It’s your first day at Leclare, girl.  You need to arrive in style,”  Mack declares.  He pats the outside of the door for emphasis.

I look from him to Nick, eyes narrowed in suspicion.  “Did Johnny put you guys up to this?”

“No—” Nick starts to deny, but Mack cuts him off with a snort.

“Johnny hooked up with Jack Daniels last night, and now he has morning-after regrets.  Dude can’t say anything but,
‘owww.’  I never saw him that hung over.”  He laughs.  “Dean told us to pick you up.”

“Dean?” I mouth, completely surprised.  “Why would he care?”

“I think he felt bad about Friday, you know?  We all do.”  Nick looks down at the ground, shrugging uncomfortably.  “He would’ve come himself, but he had an early morning meeting with Coach.”

Dean felt bad?  Dean
has feelings?  Confused, I slide into the backseat without another word.  Truthfully, I’m relieved to have these two in my corner.  Suddenly, my first day doesn’t seem so daunting, not with Nick and Mack around.

“Hey, I was thinking about you last night,”
Mack says, half-turning in his seat to look at me.

“You were?”  I raise my eyebrows.

“Not like that!  Actually, my stomach was thinking about that awesome—what did you call it?  The thing with the tortillas, and eggs, and salsa.  You made it for us once?  It was so good.”

I settle back against the comfortable leather seat, smiling.  “The Mexican lasagna?”

“Yeah!  Man, I was drooling, picturing it last night.”

“That’s what you were thinking about?”  Nick chuckles, slipping on his sunglasses.  “Thank god. 
You were looking in my direction with this dopey ass grin on your face…I thought you were gonna start buying me flowers and shit.”

Big
Mack laughs along with him—just for a few seconds.  Then his face turns to stone, and his puppy dog eyes turn into a mad dog glare. 

“That’s not funny.”

Nick winces.  “Kidding, dude.”

“I could make you another one,” I say from the backseat.  “Anytime.  I love cooking for you guys.
”

“Ah, I love you, pretty girl
!  You’re awesome.”  He grins over at me, then turns to Nick with a severe look, pointing a finger at him.  “You, I could never love.  And you definitely ain’t pretty.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I say teasingly, leaning forward to tug on Nick’s tousled brown hair.
  “A little mascara, a little blush…maybe some fuchsia lip gloss?”

“Nah, fuchsia’s not my color.  I look like shit in it,” he says casually.

“And you know this how?”

I lean forward between the two fronts seats and twist my body to look at Nick.  He’s rubbing his stubbly chin
, a cute little smile on his face.

“Well, you know…hm.  Okay, I made the mistake of passing out at Ben’s house one night
.  I was, like, drunk off my ass, and—you know his little sister, Mackenzie?  She enters all those Little Miss beauty pageants, and she’s got these crazy makeup kits.  So I pass out on his couch, right, and the next morning I wake up in full drag.  He even got those—those little fake nails on me.  I had a bitch of a time getting them off.”

An image pops into my head of Nick, dressed like a beauty queen, fake wig askew as he desperately tries to yank off his press on nails.  I lean ba
ck, trying to stifle my snickers.

He lifts his head to look at me in the
rearview mirror.  “Don’t think I don’t see you laughing over there, Juliet,” he says mock accusingly.

“I’m not.”  I press a fist to my mouth to cover my huge grin.  “I’m just…
I’m so happy.”  I choke on a giggle.

Mack
, who had been silently amused until now, speaks up.  “So, when was this?  And does anyone have pictures?”

Nick stops at a red light, and turns to
Mack.  “You’re kidding, right?  Ben had my picture on his online profile for, like, a year.”

Mack
looks blank for a second, this his eyes grow comically big.  “Holy shit!” he breathes, horrified.  “You’re Sleeping Beauty!”

“Well, thank you…”

“Ah, damn it!  That asshole, Ben!” Mack roars, moving his big shoulders irritably.  “He told me you were his hot cousin from Norway.  I’ve been trying to get her number for months—and all this time it was
you
?”

“You were gonna ask me out, man?”  Nick starts laughing.

Mack is growling under his breath, a low-pitched rumbling noise.  He seems very disturbed.  Hell, I’m disturbed on his behalf.

Ben and his pranks!  I clear my throat.  “Hey, who wants to listen to some
eighties mixes, huh?  Nick, can you…?”

I hand him my phone, and he hastily plugs it in.  He turns the volume up, and soon pure eighties goodness
fills the Range Rover’s interior with its feel good beats and cringe worthy lyrics.  Who can remain pissed when aggressive women are advising you to push it—push it good?  Not Mack.  Pretty soon, the three of us are rocking out to the music, dancing in our seats and shouting out the words to the songs.  I probably would have felt like a big dork if I got caught doing it alone, but with Nick and Mack there—I just don’t care when the people in the passing cars stare at us like we’re lunatics.  I even briefly consider licking the window for the glaring old couple in the car next to us at a stop sign.

I wouldn’t have.  I don’t
even know why that popped into my head.

All too soon, we arrive at the Leclare Academy for Rich Kids.  Okay, it’s just Leclare Academy, but have you seen their parking lot?  My little Nissan will get a complex being sandwiched between
all the Porsches and the Lexus.

The campus is comprised of
sprawling green lawns and three gleaming white buildings that look like they were designed with a Spanish monastery in mind.  There’s even a little bell tower in the main building.  Nice touch!

There are students milling around in the parking lot and on the lawn in front of the main building, and many of them greet Nick and
Mack as we make our way to the office.  I can feel curious eyes on me, but it’s easy to ignore them when I’m sandwiched between my two hottie escorts.

Still, I wonder how many of them were at the party on Friday.  How many people know that I’m Johnny Parker’
s very recent ex?  Is it just paranoia that makes it seem like people are whispering to each other as we pass by?  I get a weird itchy feeling between my shoulder blades, and I hunch my shoulders, trying to get rid of it.

After I get my schedule and a locker assigned to me,
Mack gives me a big hug and wishes me luck before he takes off to talk to his French teacher about a make-up quiz.  On the way to my locker, Nick takes a look at my schedule to see if we have any classes together.

“Just Government,” he says with
a shake of his head.  “Shit…Physics and Calculus?  Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“What?  I like those subjects,” I laugh,
pushing my hair over my shoulder.  Someone knocks into me, almost throwing me off balance, but Nick quickly reaches out an arm to steady me.  “Thanks.”

“
No problem.  AP Lit with Shannon—Dean, Ben, and Sloane are in that class.  They say Shannon’s great.  Most of the teachers here are pretty nice—they won’t hassle you much.  It’s the assholes in uniforms you have to look out for,” Nick says, and casually tries to trip a dark-haired boy walking by.

The guy stumbles a little, laughing.  He swings his backpack at Nick, who ducks.  “Dick!” he shouts good-naturedly before he rushes off.

“Yeah, if any of these guys give you a hard time, just let us know,” Nick says, nodding at a couple of pretty girls who enthusiastically greet him as they pass us.

“It’s not the guys I’m worried about,” I reply, noticing the girls giving me curious sidelong looks out of the corner of my eye.

He stops me with a hand on my arm.  “Here’s your locker,” he says, pointing to locker B-115.  He leans an elbow on the one next to it, and smiles down at me.  “Well, I can’t beat up any girls for you, but I can tell you I’ll always be here if you need someone to talk to.”

“Thanks,” I say gratefully.  Then I shake my head.  “I’ll be okay.  I
just…it’s high school, so I know people are going to be talking about…you know.  He’s a big deal around here, isn’t he?”

I don’t have to say his name. 
Nick nods sympathetically.  “Listen, it would kill Johnny if he knew anyone was hassling you because of him.  Just ignore that shit, and eventually it will blow over.  If not, I could always make an ass of myself so the gossip freaks have someone else to focus on.”  He grins crookedly.