1

 

Sigh. Another day to drag me down, I think as I crawl out of bed.

  This has been my thought every morning ever since the day I convinced myself that life wouldn't be getting any better. I can't remember how long ago that was. It doesn't matter anyway. 

  As I have so many times before, I remember how it used to be. I suppose this life is better than the one I could have had. 

  My dad had been a drug addict, and drank whenever he got the chance. No job. Sat around all the time. It was a wonder he was still alive. My mom worked two jobs to keep us going, but money was the only thing she cared about even before I was born. The two of them divorced, and Mom married some new rich guy, taking me with her. I was ten at the time. Soon after that, my dad died from drug overdose. I couldn't find it in myself to feel sad about his death. Neither could my mom. He had just been an inconvenience, and the one that helped bring my mom's second inconvenience into existence--me. 

  Yep. My mom hated me. So, it seemed, did her new husband, though he tried not to make it obvious to me.

  But I wasn't stupid. I could tell when I wasn't wanted, and I haven't been wanted since the day I was born. Some people want a new phone for their birthday? I crave affection. I don't know what it feels like to be genuinely hugged, kissed..or wanted. No one knows this, because no one cares. So I keep it to myself and put on the same tough act every day. I act like I don't want or need it. Ironically, the thing I want most is the thing I most avoid. I know I'd feel vulnerable, caring for someone who cared back.

  "Trinity!" My mom yells from downstairs. "If you don't want to miss the bus I'd suggest you get that butt out of bed."

  Rolling my eyes, I do what she suggests. This is about as much "affection" as I've gotten for as long as I can remember. I can't figure out why she's kept me all sixteen (almost seventeen) years of my life, why she didn't abort me or put me up for adoption when I was younger. 

  I head into the bathroom adjoining my bedroom. Because I didn't get up earlier, I don't have enough time to take a shower... Or don't I?

  Five minutes later, I'm out of the shower and drying my shoulder-length brown hair. I apply my mascara and heavy eyeliner, forgoing the concealer because there's nothing to conceal today. My last bruise faded away within the last week. 

  I gaze at myself in the mirror for a few moments. The stud piercing in my nose catches the light and sparkles. Glancing up into my blue eyes, I'm not surprised to see a sad, lonely look in them. 

  Shaking my head, I exit the bathroom. 

  After putting on black skinny jeans and a black tank top with a navy blue cardigan, I rummage through my makeup bin and find the navy blue lipstick to match my cardigan. 

  I glance at the clock and feel triumphant that I still have seven minutes to eat a small breakfast before going to school. 

  Slipping into my favorite boots, I run out my bedroom door and down the stairs to the kitchen, where I find Mom and her latest fling eating scrambled eggs and toast. 

  All three of us keep an awkward silence as I pour myself a bowl of cereal and begin eating hurriedly. In a few minutes, I'm finished and a horn sounds outside. 

  Wordlessly, I grab my book bag and rush out the front door, glad to be away from the house and the people in it. 

 

   At school, things go the way almost as I expect them to. Kids get out of my way, leave me alone, and stare as I walk by. There is usually at least one who will get in my face, but I either ignore them or teach them that they shouldn't do it again. I've never been violent enough to get in trouble--just enough to teach the idiot a lesson. 

  Today, however, feels a little different. I can't quite place what's off, and it bugs me. It's during my first class that I realize--no one has stood up to me this morning. 

  Glancing around the classroom, I discover something else. The desk next to mine is no longer vacant. Instead, an unfamiliar figure sits there confidently. 

  He looks seventeen, maybe. His hair is a shaggy black mess, but somehow it works perfectly for him. The green t-shirt and blue jeans he wears molds comfortably to his body. He leans back in his seat, and one would think that he's been here just as long as anyone else. 

  Never has the thought occurred to me that I'm staring until he looks over at me--his dark eyes full of life--and smiles shyly. My ears burn and I tear my gaze away. 

  Ooookay, I think. He's definitely different.... And so not my type.

  Throughout the rest of the class, I can almost feel him watching me. In my peripheral vision, I can see him catching glances. It's difficult not to squirm. 

  When class finally ends, I grab my bag and almost bolt for the door when I catch myself. Why was I running? I never run from people. It's a sign of cowardice, and I am not a coward. At least, that's what I tell myself.

  Lifting my chin, I stand from my seat more slowly than the other kids rushing out. That's what I always do. I'm hardly ever in a hurry. 

  I barely make it out the door when someone touches my arm. I know who it is before I turn my head. 

 Sure enough, standing behind me is the new guy in all his comfortableness. Raising an eyebrow and turning the rest of my body to face him, I wait for him to speak. 

  Seeming slightly uncomfortable, he says, "Um.. Hi. I'm Jack, and I'm a transfer from New York. I was wondering if you could help me find my next class."

  I express my dissatisfaction and annoyance by looking up to the ceiling as I place a hand on my hip and hold out my other hand for his schedule. As he gives it to me, our fingers brush, and my heart skips a beat. Stupid heart.

  Shaking it off, I read his paper. I'm shocked to find that his classes are the same as mine. 

  I look up at him and back down at the schedule a couple times before sighing. "Looks like yours are mine. You can follow me, but I won't wait for you."

  Jack beams. "Thanks." 

  As soon as I have my back to him, I roll my eyes. 

 

 Throughout the rest of the day, I am followed by Jack. The only times alone I have are when I go into the girls' bathroom.

  I can't seem to get him off my heels. No matter what I say, he just brushes it right off. Nothing fazes him or dampens his good mood. In a way, I admire his persistence, but it's beginning to grate. He's too happy. It makes me envious. Why can't I ever be that carefree? Oh yeah. My life sucks, that's why.

   When school is finally over, I make a beeline for the front door, hoping that I can make it out before Jack can catch up to me. I walk outside and my face is instantly hit with the kind of chilled spring air that comes with Maine. 

  Just then I remember the errand I need to run on the way home that my mom had mentioned yesterday. I wish I had brought my jacket. I curse myself under my breath. 

  "Now, what's that kind of language for?"

  I jump and whip around to find Jack standing beside me, looking nice and warm in his leather jacket. His smile lights up his whole face and my breath catches in my throat. I have to hold back a cough.

  "You know," he says, leaning toward me conspiratorially, "rumor has it that you've never been seen to smile, ever. I find it hard to believe."

  "Why is that?" I ask, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead. Not that I really care, I'm just  little bit curious, that's all.

  Jack shrugs. "You just seem like the kind of person who should be cracking jokes and making people laugh."

  Certain he's mocking me, I just roll my eyes and retort, "Whatever."

  I start walking in the direction of home, holding my arms tightly against my body to ward off the cold. A frown is plastered to my face and doesn't feel like leaving anytime soon, as is per ususal.

  "Hey, wait," Jack calls, and I hear him running after me. 

  I don't break my stride. It's too cold to stand in one place. Besides, I'm sure he can catch up with me. He didn't seem to have had any problem with it during the day. 

  Unsurprisingly, a few moments later his hand touches my shoulder and he appears next to me. 

  "You walk fast," he declares. Then he asks, "Want my jacket? I noticed that you didn't bring one today."

  Without realizing it, my pace slows at his words. He noticed? Why would he care?

  I remember that he's new. That must be the reason. No one who knows me would ever do what he's doing right now. 

  My frown deepens. "What about you? If I wear your jacket you won't have one."

  Jack laughs and replies, "I knew you weren't heartless." He unzips his jacket. "See? I have a sweater. I'll be fine without my jacket."

  Sliding it off his shoulders, he holds the jacket out to me. "You know you want to," he teases. 

  I stop. He's right: I do want to. But I'm not accustomed to people being nice to me. For all I know, he could be setting me up for some joke. 

  I raise my eyes to meet his. They are an amazing dark green color. As far as I can tell, he's being genuine. 

  Deciding to take my chances, I grab the jacket and put it on. Jack's body had warmed the inside, and it feels heavenly. My numb fingers start to warm up and buzz in satisfaction. 

  "Thanks," I say, looking up at him. 

  "No problem," he responds with a smile. "So where are you headed?"

  I resume walking, and reply, "On an errand for my mom and then home."

  He makes a sound of understanding and nods. "Mind if I accompany you?"

  Giving him a small glare of irritation, I respond, "Why would you do that?"

  Jack grins down at me cheerfully as he answers. "Because my place is somewhat in the same direction. I could slow down or speed up to give you some space, but what fun is that?"

  Shrugging, I mumble, "Whatever."

  Taking that as a positive answer, he continues to accompany me. We walk in silence for a little while. It isn't until after I pick up Mom's item that Jack speaks up. 

  "So, why don't you smile?"

  "There's no reason to."

  "No reason to smile?" He sounds incredulous. "There's always a reason to smile."

  At that, I just shrug.

  "When was the last time you smiled?" He asks after a few more minutes of silence. 

  Another shrug. 

  I'm really not accustomed to being interrogated in this manner. No one ever has the guts to, except maybe one person. I think I'd much prefer Jack than them, even if he is a little eccentric.

  We're almost to my house when Jack smacks his forehead and exclaims, "I can't believe myself!"

  Raising an eyebrow at his outburst, I wait for an explanation. 

  "Normally, when I first meet someone--especially a girl--I get their name," he says, sounding almost distressed. "I guess I was just so distracted that it slipped my mind."

  He wants my name. After this whole entire day of following me around, not once did he consider to ask? That's just sad.

  Gazing at me hopefully, he asks, "What is your name?"

  I bounce my fist on the side of my leg, trying to decide what to do. Should I give him an easy out or make him wait until tomorrow? If he had found it important enough earlier he would have asked then, right? What could have distracted him so much throughout the whole day that he didn't think about what my name was?

  "Well," I say, coming to a decision. "You had the whole day to ask but you didn't. I don't know why. But if you can wait until the end of a school day to ask a girl her name, I'm sure you can wait until your next opportunity."

  He tilts his head to one side and regards me for a few seconds. Then he grins and says, "Wow, you are something. I guess I deserve that. I'll keep an eye out for my next window."

  We reach my house--finally. I'm not sure how much more of Jack I could have taken. He's a nice guy and all, but he seems... too nice. Too cheerful, especially for a senior in high school.

  Stopping in front of my door, I turn to face Jack. "Well, I'll be going now."

  I begin taking off his jacket, but he stops me, saying, "I'll pick that up tomorrow on the way to school. I live just a few houses down the street."

  "Really?" I ask, surprised. 

  Nodding, a huge smile plasters to his face. "Yeah, then maybe I'll get my next opportunity to ask what your name is." He winks.

  I blink. He's actually serious. Taking a small breath, I tell him, "Fine. See you then."

  His eyes dancing, Jack replies, "Sounds good. Thanks for letting me follow you around today."

  With that, he starts walking further down the street to his house, and I can't help but stare at his retreating back. He turns a little to wave at me. I give him a small, half-hearted wave in return, just to be more polite.

  Shaking my head, I open my front door and step inside.

2

 

As usual, my mom is home. She sits on a sofa in the living room. Her blond hair is pulled back into a messy bun. A few strands had come loose and now they frame her perfectly sculpted features. In her lap is a book, and when I enter she lifts her gray eyes from the pages. 

  "Where is it?" She demands, direct and to the point. 

  I answer by giving her the package. 

  Taking the package from my outstretched hand, she inquires, "How was school?"

  "No comment." I know she doesn't care. Why bother pretending?

  "Hmm, sounds exciting," she says distractedly. Her eyes are back to the book. 

  I make my way into the kitchen and open the refrigerator to see if I can find something to eat. 

  "Where's Dan?" As much as I don't care about her many boyfriends, I ask anyway. Usually Dan stays all day. 

  "He finally got a job."

  I smirk sardonically. "Is that your way of saying you kicked him out?"

  Taking her cold silence as an affirmative, I boldly inquire, "What'd he do this time?"

  I don't know where this sudden daring attitude came from, but if I don't tread carefully it'll mean trouble for me. My mom has the worst temper of anyone I know, and she isn't shy about showing it. I wonder all the time how any man can stand her. 

  Even though I'm in the other room, I know that she's raising her chin up higher, like a true snob. 

  "He upset me," she says simply, as though that's a totally normal excuse and explains everything. 

  She is such a brat. That's why I'm one, I've concluded. She's probably also why I resort to violence when someone annoys me too much. 

  I've read enough to know how a mother should act and treat her children. My mom isn't even close to what she should be.

  It makes me wonder why I haven't run away already--that's what countless children have done after enduring too much abuse. I think the problem for me is the fact that I have no idea where I'd go. I thought about ending my life once, but I never felt committed and the idea of death actually terrifies me more than getting abused. 

  After claiming a snack consisting of chips and a soda, I climb up the stairs and shut my bedroom door behind me. I grab my iPod and headphones before plopping down on my bed with my homework. The most important thing in my life at this point is homework. If you think about it, that's pretty sad. 

  As I'm deciding what to work on first, I notice a piece of lined paper that had somehow gotten into my history book. On it is a name and number. 

  I stare at the name: Jack West. Jack had given me his phone number. 

  How on earth did he manage to get a piece of paper in my history book?

  Then I remember. He sat with me during lunch, and I always bring my bag with me. That must have been when he did it. The sneaky little...

  Looking at the number, I try to decide what to do. Should I call him? Tell him to leave me alone? I doubt that would bother him or change his opinion of me. Why has he taken an interest in me? Why not any of the other better looking and more happy girls? I'm not even sure if he's made any friends yet. Probably not, considering he was with me practically all day and that can't have been good for whatever reputation he has.

  I make a face. No. As much as I would love to tell him off, I would rather not give him any more chances to ask me questions or make me feel envious of his cheerful nature. 

  Besides, there is homework to be done and memories to be forgotten. 

  Plugging my ears with my headphones, I start listening to my favorite playlist and turn up the volume. My head bobs up and down to the beat while I lip sync to the words and complete one assignment after another. 

  Even though I hate the people there, I love going to school. It gives me an escape from the house and my mom. Because it's pretty much the only passion that I have outside the house, my grades are always high and I don't get pestered by the teachers. In fact, a few have actually admitted to liking me despite my unnerving choice of attire and attitude.

  By the time I finish my homework, it's seven o'clock. I stand up to stretch my legs and shake the cramps from my hands. I pull my headphones from my ears. 

  Just then, the doorbell rings. A few moments later, Mom calls my name. Frowning in confusion, I emerge from my room and head down the stairs. 

  Mom stands in the doorway, blocking my view of the person standing outside. She's nodding more enthusiastically than normal, and my heart sinks. What now? 

  "What's going on?" I ask, almost afraid to know the answer. Whatever it is, the answer is no.

  Turning, my mom explains, "He wants you to join his family for dinner." 

  Mom has moved enough for me to see him. 

  Jack sees me, too, and says, "It was my parents' idea. If you don't want to, I understand."

  I look at my mom, hoping she doesn't say yes. The shake of her head she gives is infinitesimal. I don't think Jack even saw it. Relief floods through me.

  My eyes return to Jack. "I'm sorry, but I promised a night with my mom. Maybe some other time?"

  His smile wavers a little, but immediately goes back to normal as he says, "That's fine, another night might be better anyway. We're still kind of unpacking."

  "Thanks for the invite though," I tell him kindly, for some reason wanting to make things better.

  "No problem. Feel free to stop by anytime, okay?" Giving us one last grin, he turns and makes his way back to his house.

  As soon as Mom closes the door, I ask out of curiosity, "Why didn't you want me to go?"

  "You didn't want to go," she explained simply. "And he didn't even seem to know your name. Obviously he's not on any list of yours."

  Oh, he's on a list all right, I think. Just not the one he seems to want to be on.

  "Since when do you care?" The words leave my mouth before I get a chance to consider the repercussions.

  Her mouth tightens. "Watch your tone."

  "Or what?" I retort, not caring anymore. "You'll hit me? Nothing new there."

  The narrowing of her eyes is the only warning I get before I feel the sting of a backhanded slap on the right side of my face.

  Covering it with my hand, I glare at her. It's almost impossible to keep tears from welling up in my eyes, but I manage. Barely.

  "Watch your tongue," she says in a low voice, then adds, "Go to your room."

  Gladly.

  I give her one last death glare as I make my way up the stairs to my bedroom. When I close the door, I lock it. Pressing my forehead against the cool wood, I finally allow the tears to fall. I cover my mouth to contain the sobs as I slowly walk toward my bed and attain the comfort of my soft pillow.

  My body shakes.

  My head starts to ache.

  A restless sleep envelops me.

 

  I wake up to the sound of yelling and banging doors. I shove my face into my pillow and make a sound of frustration. Mom is on another tirade--with Dan, probably. 

  Groaning, I check the time. It's six a.m. You've got to be kidding me. 

  My face is still sore from last night's incident and I didn't sleep well because of the neverending nightmares, so I'm a bit more grumpy as I throw off my covers and stomp out of my bedroom. The yelling is coming from downstairs, so I cautiously take one step at a time.  

  Upon entering the living room, I find my mom standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen and her victim is cowering behind the couch. I can tell that Dan is out of his element. He's uncomfortable being yelled at, and it seems foreign to him to be yelling back at my mom.  

  When he sees me standing at the bottom of the stairs, he puts up his hands in a 'What do I do?' gesture and asks me the question in his eyes. I shrug my shoulders and fold my arms. All anyone can really do is wait out the storm. I almost feel sorry for him. He's a good guy and doesn't deserve such treatment. I'll tell him later that it'll just be best if he leaves her permanently. If he's wise, he'll listen to me.  

  After a few minutes of listening to them fight, however, I'm sick of it.  

  "Enough!"  

  My exclamation cuts off what my mom was saying, and she glares at me. Dan is shocked.  

  I don't care if I die from this. It needs to stop. So I continue.  

  Looking at Dan, I say, "I think it's time for you to leave. And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away." 

  Dan thinks for a moment before nodding. Glaring at my mom, he gathers his belongings. A few moments later, the front door slams behind him.  

  I prepare myself for the consequences of my actions. Within a couple seconds, my mom looms over me and inflicts the pain on my face that I knew would come. Left side this time, with a lot more force. I learned years ago not to defend myself. It's just worse that way. Plus, I think playing it safe would be a good idea today considering recent events.

  "How dare you!" Mom yells. "What right is it of yours to interfere with my affairs?" 

  I look at the floor as I've done countless times and say what I've said just as often. "Sorry." 

  For the next five minutes, my mom yells about how inconsiderate I am and how I should learn better manners. I stand there, hearing her but not listening. My face stings where she hit me.  

  Finally, she storms off to her bedroom and slams her door. I climb back up the stairs to my own room and shut the door quietly. Pressing my back against the door, I slowly slide down to the floor and stare numbly out my window on the opposite wall. A single tear escapes the corner of my eye and slips down my cheek. I cried out most of them last night before I fell asleep.

  Why can't I have a normal mom? Out of everyone in this world, this woman is the one that I feel like I have to call Mom. Ill-tempered, abusive, and lazy. I personally don't see why so many men fall for her. She's the worst person I've ever known.  

  By the time I finally bring myself to my feet, it's seven-thirty. I shut myself in my bathroom and inspect my face. A nasty bruise has formed on my cheekbone. Sighing, I touch it gingerly with my fingertips. I wince. It feels worse than it looks.  

  After taking a quick shower and dressing in a plain black long-sleeved shirt and black jeans, I grab my concealer and get to work covering up the latest addition to my face. When I'm positive that it won't be noticed, I go about with the rest of my routine: eyeliner and eyeshadow, lipstick, mascara, and hair.  

  I grab my jacket and book bag and go downstairs. In the kitchen, I eat a few protein bars and drink a glass of milk. Thankfully, my mom is still in her room, moping. 

  Just then, the doorbell rings. Confused, I frown. Dan hasn't come back, has he? 

  I open the door and I'm almost relieved when I see Jack. That's when I remember--his jacket.  

  He smiles when he sees me.

  "Hey," he says. "I thought we'd skip the bus and walk to school together. Is that okay?" 

  For a moment, I'm speechless. I was not expecting this. I mean, he's kind of a nuisance but I actually wouldn't mind a walk to help clear my head. 

  Making up my mind, I reply, "Um, sure. Come inside while I get a couple things." 

  I trudge up the stairs. Once I get to my room I shrug on my jacket and grab Jack's from the back of my chair. Suddenly, I find myself breathing in Jack's musky scent from his jacket. Shocked that I would do such a thing, I hold the jacket as far away from me as possible, while at the same time not seeming conspicuous about it.

  I feel better when I get back down the stairs and return the jacket to him.  

  "Shall we?" He asks happily. 

  I merely brush past him and we both leave the house.  Neither of us talk much on the way to school. Jack seems to have a lot on his mind. His brow is furrowed and he keeps chewing on his bottom lip.  

  I shrug it off. Despite the fact that I almost maybe kind of want to know what he's thinking about, I'm going to keep quiet. I like the silence anyway. 

  When we finally arrive at school, people stare at us and whisper to each other. Oh great. That must mean there's a rumor going around about Jack and me. 

  Before I can ask anyone what they're whispering about, a guy with blond hair jogs over and greets Jack. "Hey, man. How are ya?" 

  Jack smiles smoothly and replies, "I'm great, thanks. What's the whispering about?" 

  "Oh, all this?" The guy laughs, spreading out his arms. "People are hearing rumors that Beastie is your class buddy now."

  I glare at him. Rick Anderson has been my personal pest since middle school. He gave me that nickname. Unfortunately, he's the one person that isn't scared of me. I'd have beaten him up forever ago, but he's a part of a big shot family, which explains his overconfidence and douchery.   

  "If I recall correctly," I seethe, "that information is the business of no one here." 

  Rick puts his hands up and shrugs. "Never said it was," he defends, smirking. "I just heard it from the cheerleaders." 

  I'm so tempted to wipe that smirk from his face via pain, but I restrain myself. I don't need any charges pressed against me. My mom would get furious and punish me.  

  Instead of pummeling him like I want to, I brush past Rick and disappear into the school, my fists clenched. A few seconds later, I hear Jack rushing to keep up with me.  

  "Hey, wait u--" 

  "I don't wait." 

  When he reaches my side, he looks at me impatiently, but when he speaks he sounds the opposite. "Who was that guy? He acted like he knew me." 

  Reaching my locker, I answer, "That's Rick. He acts friendly to cover up how rotten he is." 

  "Just like you do the opposite?" 

  His question catches me off-guard. I turn to face him, but he's gone. In his place stands Rick in all his overconfident glory.  

  Rolling my eyes, I mutter, "I thought I smelled a rat." 

  I turn back to my locker. Rick flashes his pearly whites and leans on some freshman's locker, invading my personal space. That's all he's good at, other than playing both football and girls.   

  His smell--no, not like a rat, but that probably would've been better--washes over me, and I gag. Trying to clear the air by waving my hand frantically in front of my face, I ask sarcastically, "Want some body with that cologne?" 

  "Yeah, yours," he responds brazenly.  

  Closing my locker, I tilt my head up to meet his icy blue gaze. It's a shame that such an attractive person isn't worth anyone's time.  

  "You know, it's really difficult being the only girl you haven't slept with." I place a hand on my hip and tilt my head to one side. "I'm under so much pressure, and I'm not sure how long I'll be able to resist your charm."  I roll my eyes again and turn on my heel.  

  "Let me know when you can't resist any longer," Rick calls from behind me.  

  Shutting his laughing words out of my mind, I keep walking.

3

  

 Rick hovers around me every chance he gets after my first class. Jack hangs with me as well--when he's not at his locker--but I don't mind his presence as much as I do Rick's. Jack isn't as much of a nuisance.

  Jack leaves my side for a few minutes to make another stop at his locker, leaving me alone with Rick. I sigh as I put unneeded books away. Rick leans on the freshman's locker again, only closer this time. 

  "So what are you doing tonight?" he asks indifferently. "Any plans?"

  "As a matter of fact, I do have plans," I reply haughtily. 

  He laughs, disbelieving, and walks two of his fingers up to my shoulder where he flicks my ear. "And what might those plans be?"

  Shrugging him off, I respond with a glare, "I'll be busy burning this shirt and disinfecting myself."

  "That's a shame," he says with a smirk. "One of my buddies is throwing a party at his house tonight and I don't think he'd mind me inviting you."

  I raise an eyebrow suspiciously and ask, "Right, because I'd willingly subject myself to ridicule. No thanks."

  Rick raises his right hand and places his left on his chest, an innocent expression on his face. "No ridicule. No tricks or games. Scout's honor."

  Rolling my eyes, I retort, "You were never a scout and you don't have any honor."

  I walk away, but Rick keeps in stride beside me. Why won't he ever leave me alone?

  Walking ahead, he suddenly turns and stops in front of me. "I promise that this isn't a trap of anyn kind," he says, and I stop. He actually seems sincere. "You have my word."

  I look up at his light blue eyes, replying, "It's too bad that your word means nothing to me. Now move."

  Disappointment flashes in his eyes, but it's gone so quickly that I suppose I imagined it. He doesn't move. Instead, he takes a step toward me. 

  "Please come."

  I'm shocked, but I don't let it show on my face. Rick has never, ever asked me to do anything; if he wants something he demands. What makes this time any different?

  Squinting my eyes dubiously at him, I inquire, "Why is it so important to you that I go?"

  He shrugs. "Jack is going as the guest of honor, and I thought that since you're practically the only person in this school that he knows, he'd be more comfortable with you there."

  Wait, what?

  "This whole party is for Jack?"

  Nodding, Rick replies, "Yeah, the guys thought it'd be fun. It's not every day that we get new people. It's a good excuse to have one."

  "On a Tuesday night?"

  "The sooner the better, right?"

  Pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger, I sigh. After a few seconds, I ask, "If I go, will you leave me alone?"

  "For a little while, yes."

  That's all I'm going to get from him. 

  Glancing back up at him, I concede grudgingly, "Fine. I'll go."

  Finally, he moves out of my way, saying, "Awesome. You won't regret it. I'll pick both of you up at seven."

  I whip my head up to meet his gaze. "What? Why?"

  He smiles at my reaction and answers, "Neither of you know where my buddy's house is. I'm being kind enough to offer you a ride."

  Gritting my teeth, I have to admit that I don't know where the party is. Jack wouldn't know because he arrived just yesterday. For some reason it seems like he's been here longer. 

  I resume walking and murmur under my breath, "Fine."

  At last, I make it outside to find Jack waiting at the bottom of the steps. 

  "Hey," he says when he sees me. "What kept you?"

  "Rick wouldn't leave me alone until I said I would go to the party tonight."

  He nods in understanding. "Oh. That. Do you know where it is?"

  We begin the short walk home, and I reply, "No, I don't have to. Rick is picking us up at seven."

  "Oh."

  "I should just stay home," I mumble. 

  "Why'd you agree to go if you don't even want to?"

  Shrugging, I answer, "I dunno. Maybe I just wanted to get him off my back. It's rare when that happens."

  "And if you don't go, he'll just increase the annoyance level," he concludes. 

  "Exactly."

  "Want me to talk to him?" He asks. 

  A small snort of bitterness escapes me. "You don't 'talk' to Rick. He never listens unless it benefits him."

  "Right, one of those guys," he responds almost automatically. "You know, you should really smile every once in a while."

  I stare at him, wondering if he's actually serious. Catching my look, he shrugs, saying, "Just a suggestion." 

  "Why does it matter to you?" I demand. 

  Shrugging again, he answers, "I just think you of all people might like it." 

  "How would you know what I may or may not like?" I ask with a huff. 

  "It's just a hunch," he says simply, unperturbed. 

  I chew on my bottom lip as I ponder what he said. I've never had a reason to smile, especially considering my living conditions. I don't recall ever smiling or laughing after I turned twelve. 

  What if I started now? Would it hurt in any way to indulge in it? 

  I smirk derisively at my questions. I shouldn't have to wonder about it. Smiling should come naturally. Why doesn't it for me? 

  After glaring at the sidewalk for a minute, I notice that one of Jack's shoelaces has come untied. I try to ignore it, but to no avail.

  "Your shoelace is untied," I blurt.

  Laughing, he bends down on one knee to remedy the issue. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to say something."

  "You knew it was untied?" I question. "And you didn't do anything sooner? Why?" 

  "It obviously bothered you," he replies, standing. "I wanted to see how long you would last." 

  Speechless, I narrow my eyes and punch his bicep. He laughs again, and I glare even harder.

  "You're such a jerk," I tell him. 

  "I know." He winks. 

  A few minutes later, we arrive at my house.

  "So I'll see you tonight then?" Jack asks hopefully.

  I think about it for a second, and then nod reluctantly before entering my house. When I close the door behind me, I bite my bottom lip. What have I gotten myself into?

  Heading into the kitchen, I call out, "Mom, I'm home!"

  As usual, I don't get a response. I search the fridge for a snack and pull out some yogurt. Grabbing a spoon from the dishwasher, I start to leave the kitchen. However, something on the table catches my eye and I decide to investigate. 

  To my surprise, my name is on the front of a white piece of folded paper. Picking it up, I read the message. 

 

I got a job. Late night shifts. I'll be back in the morning. Be good.  Mom

  

  My eyebrows rise seemingly of their own accord. Mom got a job? That's different. Perhaps she spent all the money that her second deceased husband left with her. I wouldn't be surprised.

  I shrug and exit the kitchen. The house seems bigger and more empty without Mom. The couch in the living room that my mom usually occupies is almost unrecognizable. 

  A newspaper rests on the coffee table, and I bend over to pick it up. The 'help wanted' section is open, and a few of the jobs are circled with red marker. Two of them have X's in the middle of them, but the third one doesn't. I assume this is the job Mom was referring to. 

  I frown. A waitress at a café? My mom is too impatient and stuck-up for something like that. I wonder how long this'll last. 

  Deciding I should find something to wear for tonight, I drop the newspaper on the coffee table and go upstairs with my yogurt. 

  I've been at home when my mom has thrown parties, but I've never gone to any, even when I was invited. I never had a reason to. 

  Now I guess I do.

  After eating my snack, I search through my closet for an outfit. I model a few things in front of my full length mirror, but none of them seem to work. 

  Glancing at the clock after a while, I realize I only have an hour before I'm supposed to be picked up. Clothes are strewn all over my bedroom. I flop down onto my bed in frustration. Immediately, I spring back up and yelp in pain. 

  Rubbing my back, I move clothes around until I find the source of my agony. I nod when I see it. Perfect. 

  Ten minutes later, I'm standing in front of my mirror wearing a brilliant outfit. A studded black leather vest is worn over a navy blue quarter-sleeve shirt. I wear a dark miniskirt with a spiked belt--the culprit of my throbbing back--and leggings. To go with this, I find heeled boots that go up to my knees and put them on. 

  I still have time to do my hair and reapply my makeup. I hope. 

  Quickly, I do my makeup. Then I rummage in my bathrooms drawers until I find my curling iron and go about styling my hair. 

  I barely have time to spray my hair to lock it in place when I hear the doorbell. One last look in the mirror and I'm out the bedroom door. 

  When I open the front door, Jack is standing on the porch. As soon as his eyes are on me, they widen dramatically. 

  "Wow," he breathes. "You look great."

  Raising an eyebrow, I reply, "Thanks."

  A few moments later, Rick shows up in his expensive car. Both eyebrows furrow into a deep frown and I let out a long sigh.

  "Shall we?" Jack holds out his hand to me.

  Shrugging on a thin leather jacket, I ignore his hand and make my way to the sleek car any guy would be envious of. I begin to reach out my hand to open the back door, but I'm startled when another hand beats me to it.

  "Allow me," Jack says kindly. Such a gentleman.

  Without giving him a response, I slide into the vehicle and seat myself behind the driver.

  "How are you two this fine evening?" Rick asks from in front of me.

  "Great," Jack answers. 

  I remain silent, deciding instead to look out the window. 

  No turning back now. 

  Rick begins driving and I have the urge to open my door and jump out before it's too late. But I don't. Like I said, I'm not a coward. Not that I seek thrills, I just prefer seeing out the things to which I've committed. I wish I hadn't decided to go.

  "You're being really quiet back there, Beastie," Rick calls back to me. "Something on your mind?"

  I don't answer. Instead, I very pointedly cross my arms and continue staring out the window.

  Watching me do so in the rearview mirror, he complains, "Aw, c'mon, don't be like that, it was just a question."

  I still don't respond. It's not like he cares anyway - he's just trying to get under my skin, as usual.

  After realizing that he won't get anything from me, Rick moves on to Jack. He has a little bit more luck, getting a few niceties out of him before it gets too awkward.

  The rest of the ride is spent in silence.

  Just the way I like it.

4

 

It doesn't take long to arrive at the party. I wish it would have taken longer to get here than it did. This is something I have never done before, and I'm certain something bad is going to happen.

  Rick parks his car amongst the horde of other vehicles in the enormous driveway. After he switches off the engine, he turns in his seat to look at me. 

  "Lets get this party started," he says with a mischievous grin. 

  Was it a mistake to come tonight? Probably. But it's different. Besides, I couldn't pass up the chance to get Rick to leave me alone, even for a little while.

  Hastily, Rick clambers out the front door. I'm about to open my own door, but someone beats me to it. I look up at Rick, surprised, and he smiles. 

  Frowning, I start to slide out when Jack's hand appears next to me. Wordlessly, I refuse it, climbing out of the car without their help. Jack shrugs it off like normal, but Rick's face shows a flash of annoyance toward Jack.

  He's acting weirder than normal.

  The thought leaves my mind the instant I set my eyes on the house. Okay, that's an understatement. This isn't a mere house. It's definitely a mansion. 

  Lit up like a candle, the mansion sits proudly on its large portion of land. Music blares from inside. On the lawn is a crowd of people talking and laughing. 

  I look at Jack and ask, "How many parties have you been to?"

  "Too many to count," he replies with a smile. "C'mon."

  As I follow Jack through the crowd of people, I feel uncomfortable. More so than I thought I would. But after all, everyone here is from the same school. I see most of them five times a week. If I get humiliated while I'm here, everyone at school will know about it in a very short amount of time. A word of advise to myself: don't screw up, and don't let anyone else screw you. 

  When I walk through the front door with Jack, I'm instantly hit by a wave of heat, party lights, loud music, and the smell of food. My stomach reminds me that I haven't eaten dinner. 

  Having to lean toward him to be heard, I ask Jack, "Now what?"

  He puts his head close to mine to answer, "Now we eat. I'm hungry."

  Somewhat relieved, I make my way with Jack through the throng of bodies to a table filled with refreshments. We help ourselves to fruit and miniature sandwiches. Jack strikes up a conversation with me, and I allow myself to keep it going.

  I'm about to pick up a cup of fruit punch, but Jack stops me and warns, "I wouldn't drink that. It's probably spiked. The only safe drinks are bottled."

  He crouches down beside a large cooler full of ice and digs around for a moment before producing two bottles of soda. 

  Taking the one he holds out to me, I try to sound a little more genuine when I express my gratitude. I really am glad he considered that. I'v never been under the influence and I never want to be.

  I twist off the cap and take a small sip. At that moment, I feel someone bump into me from behind, causing me to spill some soda on my clothes. 

  "Oh crap, I am so sorry!" 

  I turn around slowly. A girl with bronze ringlets framing her features covers her face with both hands, looking completely mortified. Her light green eyes are wide with horror. 

  A second later, she swiftly grabs a few napkins and hands them to me. Silently, I take them. Thankfully, I'm able to get most of the drink out of my shirt. 

  "I really am sorry," the girl says sincerely. She sounds British. "I should have been watching where I was going."

  Now that her hands aren't covering her face, I notice that her nose is graced with freckles. Nicely sculpted lips are pressed into a worried line. She wrings her hands nervously. 

  I almost tell her off, but I decide that it really isn't worth my time right now. Even if the soda doesn't come out, it won't be too noticable.

  Forcing myself to calm down, I take a deep breath and reply, "Don't worry about it."

  The girl doesn't seem convinced. "Are you sure? I could get you a new shirt if you want."

  I shake my head, insisting, "No. This one will be fine."

  Relief flashes in her eyes, and she smiles. Then she holds out her hand. "I'm Traelynn, but everybody just calls me Trae."

  I look at her hand with in a disapproving manner and make no move to take it. She lets it fall to her side.

  "I know you," Trae says. "You're Trinity. We're in a few classes together at school."

  We are? Oh yeah. She's the bouncy one that usually raises her hand and gets the answers correct. Teacher's pet.

  "By the way, I totally adore your outfit," she gushes. "I really hope I didn't ruin it."

  Folding my arms, I say, "It's fine, really."

  Trae tilts her head to one side. "You know, you'd look so pretty if you smiled," she states. 

  I remember Jack saying something similar. Apparently I should smile more. Who knew?

  Just then, a guy comes over and wraps an arm around Trae's shoulders. His light brown hair is in a disheveled mess, and his blue eyes are dancing. "What's up, sis?" He asks, his voice also accented. 

  Trae's smile grows wider as she glances up at him and answers, "I'm talking to Trinity." Looking at me, she explains, "This is my brother Finn. He's the host of this party."

  Rick's friend. He seems decent. I wonder how he could be buddies with someone so annoying. 

  Finn smiles at me, and asks, "Care to dance?"

  Definitely not. I peer behind me and find that Jack is no longer there.

  I look back at Finn, shaking my head when I answer, "I'd rather not."

  "Really?" he exclaims, incredulous. "If you don't know how I can teach you."

  Without waiting for a reply, he takes my hand and leads me to where everybody else is dancing, ignoring my protests and futile excuses.

  Finn stands in front of me, and instructs, "Clasp your hands behind my neck, like all the other girls are doing."

  Feeling incredibly uncomfortable, I do as he says, just to get this over with. Once I do, he places his warm hands on my hips. 

  "Now just follow my lead," he says, smiling. 

  It's kind of difficult to follow his lead when all I want to do is get out of here. At some point, it looks like we're going to bump into a couple, and I try to shy away. Finn stops me. 

  "Don't look at what other people are doing," he tells me. "Watch me. I'll keep us from bumping into people."

  Inhaling deeply, I nod. I refuse to look away from Finn's face. He knows what he's doing.

  Looking at his eyes, I realize something. One of them is green. Finn has mismatched eyes. That's actually kind of cool. 

  After a few minutes, I finally let myself relax, just a little bit. As soon as I do, it becomes easier to dance. Not that I was really trying to, but if it gets me done with this...

  "There now, you've got it," Finn enthuses. 

  A moment later, someone's hand appears behind him and taps his shoulder. 

  "Mind if I cut in?" Jack asks with a smile. 

  Finn steps away, answering, "All yours, lad."

  Jack takes Finn's place in front of me. "Please don't run off on me this time," he says. "Give me just one dance?"

  Sighing silently, I give him a slight nod. "Just one."

  As we start to dance, he inquires, "Do you regret coming?"

  I think about that for a moment, and then reply, "I almost got spiked, soda got spilled on my shirt, and I've been forced to dance. What do you think?"

  Laughing, he replies, "Well, it certainly doesn't seem like anything you would experience any other day."

  Shrugging, I leave it at that.

  We dance together until the song ends and I say, "I'd like to go now."

  He nods. "Me too. Let's go find Rick."

  We leave the dance floor in search of Rick. It doesn't take long to find him. The throng of girls is a good indicator. 

  After pushing through the crowd, I wish I hadn't. Rick is on a sofa, trying to make out with two girls at once. 

  When he sees me, he yells, "Heyyy, Trin! Good to see ya. Want a turn?"

  Scowling in disgust, I shove my way back to Jack, who didn't dare attempt to get through all the girls with me. 

  "Where's Rick?" He inquires. 

  Shaking my head, I answer, "He's otherwise occupied."

  "So what do we do?"

  I start to shrug, but then I think of someone else who might take us. It takes a bit longer to find her, but finally I see Trae's shiny bronze curls. 

  "Trae!" I call out. .

  She turns, and when she spots me she hastens over. 

  Once she reaches me, she asks, "Hey, what's up?"

  "Can you take us home?" I ask, direct. 

  Glancing up at Jack and back down to me, she nods. "Certainly."

  Sighing in relief, I follow Trae through the house and out the door. She leads us to a sleek black Lotus in the driveway. 

  "We can take my car if you don't mind sharing a seat with Jack," she says. 

  In any other circumstances, I would blatantly refuse. As it is, I'm tired and want to get home.

  I look at Jack to see what he thinks. He just shrugs. 

  "Yeah, that's fine," I answer.

  She slides into the driver's seat and turns the key in the ignition. "Hop in," she commands with a smile. 

  Jack sits in the passenger seat, and I climb in after him, giving Trae an address.

  "You can lean back if you want," he murmurs in my ear. "Might be more comfortable."

  Taking him up on his offer, I lean against him, muttering, "Keep your hands to yourself."

  I feel his low chuckle resonating from his chest. "Of course," he responds matter-of-factly. "By the way, will you tell me your name now?"

  Quickly glancing at Trae to make sure she hasn't heard us, I sigh. "When we get home."

  Home comes more quickly than I thought it would. Maybe we really weren't that far away.

  As soon as Trae parks the car, I hop out and thank the girl. Jack climbs out after me and we watch the car as it drives down the road and disappears around a bend.

  "So?"

  Looking up at his expectant gaze, I say, "Trinity."

  A smile spreads across his face in a heartbeat. "Was that so hard?"

  I roll my eyes and start to walk away, toward my front door.

  "Trinity?" he calls out, and I turn. "Thanks for coming tonight. It was nice having you there."

  Casting my gaze on the ground, I nod, then say, "Goodnight, Jack."

  "Goodnight."

  With that, I enter my house and barely make it to my bed before I fall asleep.

5

 

A persistent, annoying sound wakes me. Groggily, I open my eyes. For a brief moment, I wonder where I am. Then memories of the night before crash down on me. 

  Turning off my alarm, I take in my surroundings. I'm in my room, on my bed, still wearing the clothes from last night. Something covers my upper body, and I realize that it's my jacket.

  Quickly, I sit up. My head protests at the sudden movement. Glancing at the clock, I find that I only have thirty minutes to get ready. 

  I jump out of bed and run to my closet. I don't have time for a shower. 

  Out of the many options in my closet, I decide to wear black flare jeans, a dark blue tank top, and a comfortable black sweater. After slipping on my black converse sneakers, I look in my mirror and consider what to do with my hair. Shrugging, I decide to run my ringers through last night's curls and leave them in an organized mess. 

  Just as I put the finishing touches of makeup on my face, I hear the doorbell ring. That would probably be Jack. Grabbing my jacket from off my bed, I hurry downstairs. 

  From the pantry I pull out a couple protein bars to munch on before school. I then rush to the front door and open it to find Jack on the porch. 

  Sighing, I ask, "Is this going to become a normal thing with you?"

  He looks at me quizzically as we start walking. "What, showing up at your house?"

  "Yes."

  Shrugging, he smiles and answers, "Maybe. Do you want it to be?"

  I don't answer. I'm not sure what I want. Jack certainly seems like a nice guy, but he gets on my nerves. He insists on being around me despite the fact that I've made it perfectly clear he isn't my friend. I then remember I have food in my hands and start peeling one of the wrappers off.

  "The weather seems nice today," Jack says suddenly. 

  I take a bite out of the first protein bar and nod, making a sound of agreement. It actually is a nice day. The sun is out and there isn't a cloud in sight. 

  "If it stays this way, would you like to go to the beach with me after school?"

  A little surprised at his question, I hesitate for a few moments. I glance up at him, then back down at my food.

  "Doubtful," I finally say, not wanting to make any commitments. 

  I'm able to finish my small breakfast by the time we make it to school. Once through the doors, I spot Rick standing with his group of friends in the hallway, excluding Finn. When he sees me, he smirks and makes his way over to me. I notice Jack is gone again. Why didn't I see him leave?

  "Hey, Beastie," Rick whispers in my ear. 

  Shoving him away, I hiss, "You said you'd leave me alone."

  "Feisty," he says with a short laugh. "I did leave you alone. Last night at the party, I didn't lay a finger on you."

  He's right. I should have known he'd find a loophole. Getting after myself for not being more specific, I let out an annoyed sigh. Rick follows me as I continue walking to my locker. 

  "What do you want, Rick?" I really don't care what he wants, but I just thought I'd ask. 

  "Many things," he responds, again leaning on the locker beside mine, therefore too close for comfort. "I have a whole list of things I want. However, there's one specific thing at the top of it."

  I drop my head back and look up at the ceiling in exasperation. "Give it a rest," I groan. I know exactly what he wants. 

  "It's not what you think." He smiles. "All I want is to take you out on at least one date."

  "Why?" I demand, slamming my locker door. "So you can put that on your list of petty achievements?"

  He laughs quietly, saying, "No. Once you've been on one date with me, you'll want to keep coming back."

  "Fat chance," I retort, rolling my eyes. 

  I begin to walk past him, but he holds out his arm and pushes me back against my locker. He stands close to me, and his hands grasp my arms, pinning me in place. 

  "Let go of me," I say more calmly than I feel. 

  "Not until you say yes," he murmurs in my ear. 

  His lips press soft but urgent kisses on my neck, and I feel like vomiting. I struggle to get my arms free, but Rick's grip just gets tighter. 

  "Get off of me!" I exclaim, doing everything I can to get him away. Not that there's much I can do, but I still try. 

  I turn my face away. Rick kisses along my jawline, getting precariously closer to my mouth. Students walk quickly down the hall, pretending that they don't see us. 

  I squeeze my eyes shut tight. Just as Rick's lips reach my chin, an unseen force rips him away from me. I gasp, relieved. 

  I open my eyes. My relief quickly turns to surprise and anger when I see Rick punch Jack in the jaw. Jack stumbles back, but immediately retaliates with a fist in Rick's cheekbone. Rick falls backward, into the arms of the circle of students that had begun to form. 

  The two of them throw in a couple more blows and I suddenly feel the urge to protect Jack. I decide this has to stop. Now. 

  Just as Rick takes another step toward Jack with his fist raised, I step in between them, keeping Jack behind me. Rick stops, panting, a spark of fury in his eyes. He's a good seven inches taller than me, and I know he could move me out of the way without a problem. He's not a football player because of his looks. 

  He glares down at me, and I glare back, lifting my chin. The school bell rings, but only a few people leave the circle to get to class. 

  After a few moments, I take a shaky breath and say, "Rick, you're seventeen. Try to grow up and get a life."

  With that, I take Jack's arm - still feeling protective - and pull him along with me to our first class. 

 

Lunch time comes around, and I still get upset when I see Jack's split lip and bruised jaw. I wish that I'd been the one to hit Rick, but it all happened so fast. I'm actually still shocked that Jack had interfered. He'd taken a small beating to get Rick off of me. None of this has ever happened to me before Jack came along. 

  I'm thinking about these things as Jack and I sit together at lunch, when suddenly a tray is placed right next to mine. Surprised, I look up to see Trae sitting down next to me. Across the table, Finn settles down beside Jack. 

  "Hey, Trin," Trae says in her thick accent. "How are you?"

  A bit confused I reply, "Fine, I guess."

  "I heard about what happened this morning." Her elegant brows crease as she frowns. "What a git. If I had been there, I would've kicked his a--"

  "Yes, but since you weren't there, Jack was kind enough to do it for you," Finn cuts in, grinning. 

  "Why are you friends with that bastard?" Trae huffs at him. 

  He shrugs. "He's a respectable guy, until it comes to girls."

  "Are you going to get in trouble for sitting with us?" I ask, a hint of mockery in my voice. 

  "Pshh, no," he scoffs. "Who we associate with is our business, not his. If he has a problem with it, for all I care he can suck on his own--"

  "Lip," Trae finishes, and they both burst out laughing. Jack joins them, and I pick at my food.

  "Seriously though," Trae says, her laughter dying down. "The two of us are absolutely not happy with him. I'm thinking about skipping cheerleading practice if it means cheering for him." She wrinkles her freckled nose. 

  "What about me?" Finn exclaims, acting offended. 

  Trae pretends to think about it for a couple seconds, tapping her chin, and then replies, "Oh fine. I guess I can't leave you without backup."

  At that moment, a tall guy appears behind Trae and wraps his arms around her shoulders. His curly brown hair matches his brown eyes, and the smile on his boyish face is full of mischief. 

  "Hey, babe," he says, kissing her cheek. "I got a new car today."

  Trae turns her head to look at him in awe. "Really? How'd you convince your parents to let you? What kind is it?"

  The guy laughs, answering, "I'll tell you later, and you'll have to see for yourself after school."

  "What?" she whines. "That's forever away."

  "Fine." He smiles. "I'll tell you that it's red."

  Trae squeals in delight, and the guy gives her a swift kiss before he excuses himself.

  I glance around the table. Finn eats his food like nothing happened, while Jack looks the same way I feel.

  "Your boyfriend?" Jack inquires. 

  She nods enthusiastically, and replies, "Yeah, that's Brooks. He's like, the best guy ever."

  "Hey!" Finn protests, trying to seem hurt. 

  Trae laughs. "It's a tie between the two of you."

  "Oh okay," he says, sounding relieved. "I was worried for a moment."

  The two of them talk while Jack listens and I zone out until the bell rings.

  As I head to my next class, I try to figure out why Jack intervened this morning. Sure, he likes to stick around me like glue, but has it really come to the point where he'd take a beating for me? It's only been two days since I met him. He doesn't know me that well at all. Is he hoping to change that? Do I want him to know me? 

  And then there was me, intervening to keep him from getting more hurt. I felt like I needed to help him, to keep him safe from Rick. Why? Was it because I didn't want to be indebted to him? Or did I actually care about his well-being?

  During English, these thoughts run through my mind. I peek over to my left at Jack, who has taken up sitting next to me in every class. He's drawing a plethora of doodles on a blank sheet in his notebook. Nothing unusual about that. 

  Then his eyes find mine, and my heart beats faster. I feel my face redden, but I don't look away. The corner of his mouth turns up in a smile. He's the first to break eye contact, and he continues to doodle in his notebook. 

  Of all the students he could have chosen to be around, why did he choose me? I'm nothing special. I am one of the most infamous people in school, with Beastie as a nickname. Not to mention I'm very rude and no one would dream of calling me kind. Who would want to subject themselves to that?

  Then I think about Trae and Finn. I'd seen them around before, and they hadn't once talked to me until last night. Now they're sticking up for me because of what Rick did this morning.  What changed?

  I feel like I'm going to explode with questions. They haunt me through the rest of English. When the bell rings, I decide to shove them all into a corner at the back of my mind. I'll think about them later. 

  The moment I stand up, someone pops up in front of me. I jump, startled. 

  "Question for you, Trin," Trae starts, oblivious to the fact that she just scared me witless. "When is your birthday?"

  Once again, I'm taken by surprise, and I hesitate before answering. "Um, next week."

  We walk out the door, Jack trailing behind us. 

  "What day?" She asks, a thoughtful expression on her face. 

  "The eighteenth," I reply slowly, unsure why I'm actually telling her. "Why?"

  She looks at me and smiles brightly. "Just wondering."

  With that, she races ahead of me and meets up with Finn further down the hall. 

  Jack comes up to walk beside me, and asks, "What was that all about?"

  Shaking my head, I respond. "I have no idea."

 

The rest of my classes go by in a blur. The last bell rings, and everybody - with the exception of Jack and me - hurries out the classroom door. 

  As I rise slowly from my seat, Jack comes to stand beside me.

  "Are you okay?" He asks, concerned. "You don't seem focused."

  Taking a shaky breath, I shake my head and answer, "I need to get home."

  Jack nods, and after I put some things in my locker, we follow the other students outside. Swollen rain clouds can be seen heading our way. 

  "Looks like it wouldn't have been a good beach day anyway," Jack declares, peering up at the sky. 

  The walk home is a silent one. We both walk quickly, not wanting to get caught in the rain. 

  We're almost to my house when my hands begin to shake. The stress has finally caught up to them. I fold my arms to hide my quivering hands. 

  Jack walks me to the front door. Once there, he leans over and embraces me. Caught off-guard, I merely stand there, not sure what to do. The smell of his leather jacket and cologne fills my nose. I have to admit: he smells nice.

  Then my fingers start to tap lightly against my side. Time to go. 

  I pull away and clear my throat. The fingers on my left hand tap a rhythm repeatedly on my ribs. This distracts me immensely, but I have one question burning in my mind.

  "Why did you do that today?" I inquire, determined to get an answer. "You know, in the hall." 

  He gives me a small smile as he answers simply, "Because I like you." 

  Winking, he turns away and strides down to his house. As I open the door and walk inside, I think about that for a moment and wonder what kind of 'like' he meant. I suppose it doesn't matter. I've kept my hands waiting long enough. Dropping my book bag, I hurry through a door on the left and quickly close it behind me. 

  Alone at last. 

  The room I'm in is fairly large, with creamy white walls and dark brown carpet. White curtains cover the windows but let in sunshine at the same time. Against one wall rests a white leather sofa. Covering another wall is a plethora of bookshelves, with all kinds of books to be read. 

  However, I ignore those, instead making a beeline for the sleek, black grand piano on the other side of the room. I lift the wooden cover, revealing the ivory keys underneath. Anxiously, I sit on the padded bench and hold my fingers over the keys. 

  As I begin to play, my previous thoughts are forgotten. The more I play, the easier it is to let all of my stress melt away. The melancholy notes reverberate through my mind, reflecting how I often feel.

  After a few minutes, the key changes from minor to major, and the tune I play doesn't sound as sad and haunting. Despite my puzzlement, I continue to allow my fingers to drift across the keys effortlessly. My body sways to the new rhythm.

  It take me a few moments to realize what is influencing the change of music. Laughing green eyes, dark messy hair.

  I stop playing abruptly, feeling more relaxed but disturbed. I'm confused that my thoughts would wander to a person I don't particularly like, and play more positive tones because of it. Shaking it off, I rise from the bench.

  "Until next time," I whisper, feeling the smooth surface of the piano with my hand. 

  Exiting the room, I grab my book bag and climb up the stairs to my room, where I kick off my shoes and lay flat on my bed. Immediately, I sit up again and pluck my iPod from my nightstand. I plug my headphones into my ears and start listening to Linkin Park's 'Numb'. I then lay back on my bed and close my eyes. 

  After Linkin Park is 'This Close' by Flyleaf. I completely lose myself in the music, not letting any other thoughts in my head. 

  Unfortunately, no one is perfect, including me. Once the fifth song ends, my mind wanders to the small piece of paper I found the other day. I ignore the desire to find it, stubbornly listening to two more songs before I finally give in. 

  Removing my headphones, I get up and open my nightstand drawer. When I find the paper, I sit on the floor and lean against my bed. 

  This is actually the first time I've looked at the paper since I found it. Thinking about his dinner invitation the other night, I feel a little bad, which surprises me. I should not be having so many thoughts and feelings (that aren't particularly negative) about a person that irritates me.

  And yet... There's something about him that intrigues me. I'm drawn to how positive he is - despite my jealousy - and how he doesn't ever seem fazed by my consistently horrible attitude. He can be a nuisance with his persistence, but at the same time it's almost charming. Would being friends with him result in such a bad ending? My life already sucks; I doubt that losing a friendship would kill me.

  Fine, I think. I'll give him a chance.

  Steeling myself, I dial his number. It takes a minute for me to actually press Call. I breathe deeply as the phone rings. 

  "Hello?" His voice makes my face burn. 

  "Hi" is all I can muster. 

  "Trin?" I can hear the smile in his voice. 

  "Yeah."

  "Feeling better?"

  "Uh, yeah," I say, feeling a little stupid. "Hey, is that dinner invite still open?"

  "Of course," he replies, sounding enthusiastic. "Is six-thirty okay?"

  "Sure."

  "Great, I'll see you then!"

  I smirk at his obvious excitement. "Okay."

  With that, we hang up. 

  See? I tell myself. That wasn't so bad. Everything will be okay.

  I hope that's true. 

6

 

When the time comes, I slowly but surely make my way to Jack's house and ring the doorbell. Jack answers the door.

  "Hey, come in," he invites warmly.

  Taking a deep breath, I gather up my courage and step over the threshold.

  When I walk through the door, a wave of sensation collides with my senses. The interior of the house is bright and cheery. I can hear people chattering and laughing in another room. The smells emanating from the kitchen make my mouth water. The feeling I get while I stand here is that of comfort.

  Jack motions for me to follow him, so I do. He leads me out of the front room and into a cozy dining room. An ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling. The walls are a nice creamy color. A decent oak table rests on a smooth, dark brown wood floor. Surrounding this table are six chairs. Occupying three of these chairs are three people. I'm sure this is Jack's family... minus one. They all fall silent when we walk in.

  At the head of the table is a man with dark hair--like Jack's--and happy brown eyes. He seems to be around his early thirties, but I'm sure he's older--late thirties or early forties, I'd say.

  One of the seats beside him is unoccupied, but across from that one is a little boy. His red curly hair is an adorable mess, and his eyes are so dark they look black. I'd guess his age to be around six or seven. He's staring at me like I'm some sort of insect. I shift uncomfortably.

  Sitting beside the empty seat is a young girl. She looks like she could be thirteen or fourteen. Her dark hair is pulled back in a long braid, and her bangs are long enough to cover her elegant eyebrows. Hazel eyes peer up at me curiously.

  Everybody in the room is watching me, and I look at Jack, who says, "Everyone, this is Trinity." They all give me welcoming smiles.

  "Have a seat," Mr. West invites. He gestures to the table. "Dinner will be out in a minute or two."

  Jack pulls out the chair at the end of the table for me. Hesitantly, I sit. He takes the seat on my right. On my left side is the girl.

  Mr. West clears his throat to say, "We're pleased that you accepted our invitation, Miss Hill."

  "Trinity."

  He takes a sip of his water and chuckles at my correction. "Of course. My name is Jordan. These are my two other children--Toby and Katie. My wife, Mary, is preparing dinner. Katie, why don't you go help her bring things in?"

  Katie obediently rises from her seat and disappears into the kitchen.

  "I would have helped, but Mary insisted that she do everything." Mr. West smiles. "I'm pulling strings by sending Katie in there."

  A few minutes later, Katie comes back in carrying two bowls. One holds rolls, and the other contains vegetables. She carefully places them in the middle of the table before heading back into the kitchen. When she returns, she brings in a platter of perfectly sliced meat surrounding a bowl of mashed potatoes. Following her is a woman--Mary, I'm guessing--carrying a bowl of salad.

  Mary is a beautiful woman, wearing a silky blue blouse and black pencil skirt. Her flaming red hair compliments her porcelain features and lovely green eyes.

  When she sees me, she smiles widely. "Good evening, Trinity. I'm so glad you decided to join us."

  I don't respond, not exactly sure how to.

  Mary takes her seat beside her husband and looks at those around the table. She puts on a stern expression and says, "I put a lot of time and effort into this meal. Enjoy it."

  Jack and his family begin to dish food onto their plates enthusiastically. Not wanting to look out of place, I do the same, but with considerably less enthusiasm.

  The food is delicious. I savor each bite. Mary is an excellent cook.

  Katie leans over to me, and asks quietly, "Are you a vampire? I mean, I know you're eating real food, but you could be faking it somehow."

  I raise an eyebrow and glance around the table to see if anyone had heard.

  When I conclude they didn't, I lean in with her and inquire just as subtly, "Why do you think I'm a vampire?"

  "Well," she begins, "your choice of clothing. Makeup. Your flawless skin. You're certainly beautiful enough to pass as one."

  I look at her with surprise. I almost smirk. Then I decide to do something completely out of my character.

  I play along.

  Making a small show for Katie, I glance around the table of people cautiously. They're all busy eating and talking amongst themselves.

  "Can you keep a secret?" I finally ask conspiratorially.

  Katie nods enthusiastically.

  Biting my lower lip dramatically, I whisper, "I am a vampire."

  Her eyes widen for a moment, but then they narrow as skepticism creeps in. "Then how are you able to go out in the sun?"

  "Special sunscreen," I answer, as though it were obvious.

  "Do you drink blood?" Her eyes are wide again.

  I give her a look.

  "Never mind," she says quickly, shuddering. "I don't wanna know."

  Then she asks excitedly, "Do you sleep in a coffin?"

  "Absolutely. I'll show you where I keep it sometime."

  Beaming, she says to me, "Can't wait."

  We both straighten in our seats. I take a bite of potatoes and wink at her. She giggles.

  Feeling someone's eyes on me, I turn.

  "What was that all about?" Jack asks me.

  "Nothing," I reply, shrugging. "She just likes my hair, that's all."

  He smiles and nods, placated.

  We finish dinner and Mary announces that it's time for dessert. Katie gets up to help her mother.

  When they return from the kitchen a few minutes later, they bring with them ice cream and peach cobbler. Mr. West insists on scooping the ice cream into the bowls, while Mary handles the cobbler.

  Is there anything that Mary can make that doesn't taste amazing? I wonder as wonderful flavors explode in my mouth.

  Everyone compliments Mary's cooking, and she brushes it off humbly.

  After we've all had our fill of dessert, I awkwardly ask Mary if there's anything I can do to help clean up. It was the least I could do after the amazing dinner she prepared.

  "Oh yes, thank you," she responds gratefully. "You can help Jack rinse off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher."

  We clear the dishes and take them to the kitchen, setting them on the counter. I go about rinsing the dishes while Jack arranges them in the dishwasher.

  "Did you enjoy yourself?" He asks.

  "I suppose," I reply nonchalantly.

  He smiles and scoffs. "You totally did."

  Rolling my eyes, I neither confirm or deny it. "What if I did?"

  He shrugs, confessing, "I dunno. I guess it'd satisfy me somehow."

  "Why?"

  "It's an accomplishment. I live here, and it's an unspoken rule amongst the family to give guests a good time."

  I nod in understanding, and say, "I see."

  We finish the dishes in silence, and when we're done we go back out to the dining room, where the rest of the family is. They lounge on their seats, seeming content and relaxed.

  Mary spots us and asks me, "Would you like to stay and watch a movie with us?"

  "Oh, um," I stammer. "No, thank you. I should be getting back home. Dinner was great, thanks."

  She smiles warmly and replies, "Thank you for coming. You're welcome here anytime."

  As I go, they all follow me, except Toby. He bolted upstairs after dessert.

  Mr. West opens the door for me, and as I begin to walk out the door, Katie stops me. Her hug almost crushes me, but I manage to keep myself together. It shocks me that I'm again in such close proximity to someone without any angst toward me. Tears threaten to surface, but I beat them back down.

  "Even though you aren't a vampire, I still think you're cool," she whispers in my ear.

  My heart melts of its own volition, and she pulls away.

  "Thank you," I whisper back to her.

  Her smile of encouragement is almost too much. The tears are coming.

  I wave goodbye to all of them and force myself to walk slowly back to my house, tears silently streaming down my face.

 

  As soon as I get to my living room, I sit on the sofa and attempt to regain my composure. After a few minutes, my tears finally cease. Sniffling, I glance around the room and feel more alone than ever. Mom can be a real pain (literally), but at least she was another person filling the house. I can't remember the last time she had a job. This is so unusual.

  Turning on the TV, I flip through the channels and try to find something of interest.

(Working on it.)

Impressum

Texte: A.M. Bryker
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 15.08.2014

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