When You Were Mine (7 page)

Mrs. Barch, our teacher, is the kind of woman you don’t want to mess with. I think she actually used to be a research
doctor. She’s probably in her late forties, and as far as anyone at school can tell, she doesn’t have a husband or kids or anything. So you can see why biology would be really important to her. If she likes you, you’re in, no problem, but if she doesn’t, she’ll make your life impossible. And I don’t think I’m exactly at the top of her list. I’ve had her before, and it hasn’t gone too well.

I sit down next to Lauren, who already has her notebook open. It’s filled with all of these charts and graphs and things written down in color-coded pens.

“Was there homework?” I ask her.

She squints at me. “Homework?”

I gesture to her notebook.

“Oh,” Lauren mouths. “Nah, just getting a jump start.” She takes out a pen and starts copying down the schedule Mrs. Barch is putting down on the whiteboard.

“Hey, babe. Miss me?” I whip around to catch Len sliding into the seat next to me.

“What are you, stalking me now?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He holds up his course schedule and points to bio. “See, I’m legit.”

“I heard you forged those.”

“Forged?”

“Or changed, whatever.”

Len raises his eyebrows. “Been asking about me, huh?”

“You’re perverted.”

He sighs and takes out a spiral notebook. “Must we always fight?”

“Must you always be so intolerable?”

He does seem to have gotten more toxic over the years. Not that Len and I have ever been friends, but he doesn’t usually single me out for quite so much special torture. I’d worry he’s getting obsessed with me, but I can’t imagine him caring too much about anything.

Mrs. Barch likes to start class off with a clap. I remember this from when I had her for chemistry in the tenth grade.

“This class is not about the exam,” Mrs. Barch begins.

“Yeah, right,” I mumble.

“We’re here to learn advanced concepts of biology, not master a three-hour test. It will be tough, but anything worthwhile is. I expect you to be here on time and ready to work.”

Jon and Stacy are scribbling furiously in their notebooks. I pick up my pen, but I have no idea what they could possibly be writing down. “Don’t be late to class?” Isn’t that sort of an obvious one?

Mrs. Barch claps again and tells us that whomever we are sitting next to will be our bio partners for the year. She counts us off, and I end up with Len.
You’re kidding me,
I think as Mrs. Barch sends me an apologetic look. Fun fact: Even teachers think Len is a leech.

“This is a nightmare,” I whisper.

Len smiles at me and knits his hands behind his head. “What’s that?” he says. “You’re going to have to speak up, Rosaline.”

“Nothing.”

“I for one am really looking forward to this arrangement.”

“I’m sure you are.”

I start filling out a handout Lauren is passing around. It’s easy stuff, mostly name, class year, etc., and it allows me the opportunity to let my mind wander. Okay, so it’s not really wandering. It’s more like power walking. Power walking straight over to Rob. I’m trying to think of what I should wear tonight, whether I should put my hair up or down. Usually I’m fairly low maintenance. Olivia and Charlie are the ones with all the products—sprays, mists, and one disconcerting powder—but I want tonight to be perfect.

“Hey, daydreamer,” Len says. He’s leaning over me, wearing that annoying entitled smirk.

I snap to attention and realize I’ve missed the first half of what he just asked me. Damnit. Now he’s going to think I’m an even bigger idiot than he already does. Not that I care. I just don’t want to add any fuel to his fire, as my dad would say.

“What?”

“First day focus issues, huh?” He tilts his head to the side and gives me a sympathetic nod.

“Should we just divide the assignment, or what?”

He hands me a sheet of paper, his pink thumb lifted toward me.

“It’s a birthmark,” he states.

“I didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“Anyway,” I say, “which should I take?”

“Why don’t you do the first five,” Len says, frowning and nodding. “We can discuss them all during class tomorrow.”

“Didn’t know you were so organized.”

“Add it to the list,” he says. Then he’s out the door before I even have time to think up a comeback.

The student activities committee is for seniors only, but Charlie has been on since the tenth grade. Olivia and I were voted in at the end of last year, with Lauren, so we had a few sessions in the spring already. I saw pretty quickly that the whole thing was going to work because of Lauren. Her older sister joined when Lauren was a freshman, and Lauren has basically been taking notes ever since. Even though Charlie would probably disagree, Lauren is the fulcrum. Making SAC work is definitely her new seven.

We’re trying to be involved, I guess, but it’s hard to get anything done when Olivia wants to use the hour to talk to Charlie about the current drama with Jake and whether Mr. Davis was
really suspended for flirting with Darcy. For the record, I think that one is definitely true. Her tops are even smaller than Olivia’s, and she was constantly saying things to him like “Is that
really
what you want?” in response to him asking us to run laps.

“Can we start?” Charlie asks. We’re all sitting in the PL, and it’s a quarter after three, which means we are ten minutes behind schedule. Which means Charlie is irritated.

“Mhm,” Olivia mumbles. She’s on her phone, working the keypad, and she doesn’t look up.

“I was thinking we should do a back-to-school dance this Friday,” Lauren says. “Something fun.”

Olivia stretches. She’s lost the cardigan, and her belly button is practically poking out of her shirt. Lauren notices too and gives her a
Please put that away
look. Olivia ignores her and takes out a lollipop. Black licorice. Like Charlie’s Swedish Fish, she always has them on hand. “I already checked with Mr. Johnson. He said it’s fine,” Lauren says.

“I think that’s good,” Charlie says. “Let’s call it Fall Back.”

“I don’t get it,” Olivia says. She is sliding the lollipop over her teeth, a move that she knows majorly bugs Charlie. Apparently Olivia’s trying to get a rise out of her, probably payback for making a fuss about Ben this morning.

“Like the time?” Charlie says, although what she means is “Duh.” She sends me an exasperated look that Olivia doesn’t
catch. I shrug it off. I generally do when Charlie puts me in the middle of her current Olivia annoyance.

Truth be told, I’m not paying much attention either. I’m thinking about Rob’s knee next to mine this morning. How being close to him, even the
thought
of being close to him, makes my palms start sweating and my heart feel like it’s going to beat right out of my chest. What would have happened if we were the only two people in the room this morning? If he had leaned a little closer?

“Hello, Rose?” Charlie says. “What do you think of Fall Back?”

I blink. “I like it, I guess.”

“Does anyone know what our budget looks like?” Charlie snorts and mutters the word “attention” under her breath.

Lauren pulls out a folder and hands it to Charlie, and they start talking about money.

“So what’s going on with Rob?” Olivia asks, lowering her voice so Charlie can’t hear. She slips her phone into her bag and squints at me.

“I don’t know. I mean, we’re friends.”

“Yeah,” Olivia says, “but you guys looked kind of cozy this morning.”

I shrug, trying to prove I don’t care. I can tell my nonchalant act is fooling no one.

“This is a nightmare,” Charlie announces, turning to us. “And why is no one helping me here?”

Olivia wrinkles her nose. “I’m hungry. I can’t think when I’m hungry.”

“It’s barely three o’clock, O.” Charlie holds up her watch to prove it.

“I know, but I didn’t even get to eat my salad. Ben was . . .”

Charlie waves her hand in the air and cuts her off. “Listen, guys. I thought being SAC this year meant we were going to take it seriously.” She crosses her arms. “Or I’d have asked other people to do it with me.”

“Yeah? Who?” Olivia rotates her lollipop and smiles pointedly.

“Whatever.” Charlie hands Lauren the folder. “This Friday. Fall Back. Let’s email to divide up the supplies and ask Mr. Johnson if eight o’clock is okay.” Lauren gives Charlie a little salute that I can tell really annoys her. She does this thing with her mouth when she’s angry. She kind of sticks out her chin and sets her jaw.

“See you guys tomorrow,” Lauren says. She slings her backpack over her shoulder and gives us a quick wave, tucking the SAC folder under her arm and disappearing out of the PL.

“That went well.” Olivia tosses her lollipop into the trash can. It misses, and she has to go pry it off the carpet.

“Seriously?” Charlie says, watching her. “Can we just get out of here?”

“What have I been saying?” Olivia looks at me for confirmation.

The three of us start toward upper. The parking lot is practically deserted. Soccer practice hasn’t started yet. It won’t until next week, and Rob and Jake skipped last period to go surfing. I think about mentioning dinner with Rob tonight but decide against it. For just a little while longer, I want to keep it to myself.

“Cal Block?” Charlie asks when we’ve reached the cars.

California Blockade is a restaurant near school that we have been going to since the seventh grade. It’s Mexican, the best in town, and they have this
queso
dip that we all love. We call it “the special
S
,” although I can’t quite remember why. I think it had something to do with “siesta,” but I could be wrong. The three of us always get the exact same thing: two orders of the special
S
and one guacamole.

“Yess,” Olivia says.

“I swear if you marry my brother, and we become related, I am getting you a speech therapist.”

“Keep it up and I’m going to take Rose,” Olivia shoots back.

Charlie puts her hands on her hips and looks at me. One of the unwritten rules of our friendship is that if the three of us are going somewhere together, then I always ride with Charlie.

“Maybe I’ll just drive myself,” I say.

Charlie rolls her eyes. “Maybe when pigs fly,” she says. “Just get in.”

We always take the corner booth near the windows
and away from the fan. You get a good view of the parking lot and Cinema Screen next door, where people from our school sometimes rent movies. One time we saw Dan Jenkins leave with
Clueless
. Charlie laughed about it for a week.

The waitress comes over, and Charlie orders for us. Charlie always orders.

“And sparkling waters, please,” she says when she’s through.

“You mean club soda?” the waitress asks. The waitress always asks this, but Charlie just keeps ordering the same way.

“Sure,” Charlie says, rolling her eyes. “Whatever.”

“It’s freezing in here.” Olivia snuggles up to Charlie and starts nudging her nose into her shoulder. Olivia is always cold. We
went skiing at Whistler last year, and she refused to even come outside. She sat in the lounge the entire four days drinking hot chocolate and flirting with the ski instructors who were on break.

“Oh my God. Did you guys see Darcy Sugarman today?” Charlie asks. “She was, like, practically dry-humping Jake after third.” Charlie wiggles her shoulders to get Olivia to sit up.

“That’s disgusting,” Olivia says.

“She’s a slut,” Charlie says. Darcy Sugarman is the same girl who we think used to have a thing with Mr. Davis. Charlie says there’s a difference between being a slut and being slutty. She thinks Olivia was slutty for hooking up with the Belgian, but she would never call her a slut. Her theory is that the distinction is the difference between how you act and who you are. Olivia’s was an action, whereas Darcy’s is a defining quality.

“Why does everyone want my boyfriend?” Charlie wails, putting her hands over her head like the ceiling is collapsing.

“So we’re using the term ‘boyfriend’ now?” I ask.

“I told you this morning that things were good. And don’t be jealous just because you guys have some catching up to do.”

“You’re gross,” I say.

“Better hop on it, pretty lady. Rob may not be around forever.”

Olivia is smiling with the corners of her mouth, and Charlie is gyrating her body like she’s trying to hump the table. I figure now is as good a time as any to tell them about the start of
summer and this morning, except when I open my mouth, the only thing that comes out is a kind of gurgle.

I don’t know why I feel so hesitant about telling them. They are my best friends. They should know this. I mean, it
is
a big deal. Unless I completely dreamed up this morning. Maybe he thought my leg was the edge of the chair? Totally possible. He might not have even known we were touching. Or what if he tried to move away but I didn’t move away and he didn’t want to be rude? And that comment, about not seeing anyone this summer? I completely read into it. He tells me everything. Of course Rob would tell me if he dated anyone this summer. I was the first one he told that he kissed Tracy Constance during a round of spin the bottle. I remember him saying she tasted like newspaper.