Authors: Liz Reinhardt
“
One class. The class is mostly juniors,” I said carefully. Saxon was still a super sensitive topic between us. “But I’m not totally a sophomore. I’m like a sophomore and a half.”
“
So you’re in some junior classes?”
“
Just government. With Saxon. Same as we do in VoTech.” I grabbed his cap off of his head and brushed the hair that fell into his eyes back. “You need a haircut.”
“
You want to stop talking about this?”
“
I want to stop talking,” I slid over to his side of the truck. The interior was cavernous, so I had to drag my butt over a good two feet to be near him. I pulled his face down to mine and kissed him long and hard. I had my hands at his shoulders. I loved how they felt; big and muscled. He ran his hands down my back and grabbed me hard around the waist. He jerked me towards him, and soon we were fairly tangled around each other. I loved the taste of him. I loved the feel of his mouth against mine. I just loved Jake Kelly.
Finally I pulled away. “Gotta go. We’ve got a group project on
Lord of the Flies
today.”
“
I finished the book!” Jake said and ran a hand through his already mussed hair. “Holy shit, they were some frigging messed up kids!”
“
I know!” I cried. “I hated that one who was Jack’s henchman. He was so creepy.”
“
Stick-sharpened-at-both-ends-boy?” Jake grinned. “What a little freak.”
“
How’d you like the ending?” I leaned back for a better look at his face.
His forehead creased as he thought it over. “I didn’t see it coming. I thought it was just going to be Armageddon. But I guess the end Golding wrote was more depressing than that.”
I looked at him for a long minute. “You thought it was more depressing than Armageddon?” I asked, curious how he could have possibly come to that conclusion.
“
Yeah.” His eyes were serious. “Because it was just the truth. You know, no big war to blame it on or anything. Just the sad load of bullshit they all swallowed because…I guess because Jack made a world for them where bullshit was all there was.” His smile was lined with sadness, and his chipped tooth glinting in the morning light.
I shook my head.
“
What?” He looked sheepish.
“
Don’t pull that humble act with me. You know you just dissected Golding like an Honor’s English student. I want you to seriously think about share time, Jake. I need someone smart to debate with in English class.” My head was spinning. I had underestimated Jake’s English skills by a mile. I kissed him and put his cap back on his head. “See you after lunch!”
“
Brenna! Um, do you want me to get you before lunch? We could eat together. If you want.”
Duh. We had the same lunch period.
It would mean not eating lunch with Saxon and his friends anymore. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
But eating with Jake was appealing enough to tempt me.
“
I’m not really supposed to leave.”
He flashed me an eager smile. “Who’s gonna know, Brenna? Come to the dark side.”
“
You’re a bad influence.” I leaned in and kissed him again. “I’ll wait right here for you. Don’t be late. They have lot monitors.”
“
I’m never late.” He roared towards Tech, and I walked into Frankford.
Saxon waited in the lobby. He walked next to me, not saying anything for a while.
“
Jake’s driving.” There was so much more to that statement than the obvious. Saxon’s ability to drive me had been a gold ticket he held over my head.
“
It’s a farmer’s license,” I explained. “He’ll be able to get his real license in a month.”
“
You don’t need a ride to his race,” Saxon said, his brows knit.
“
No.” I bit my lip. “It’s better this way, Saxon.”
His laugh was coarse and rough. “Yeah, better for you, Blix.”
“
And you.” I put a hand on his arm. “Come on, Saxon, this isn’t real. You and me, this is all a game, isn’t it? Why don’t we just stop?”
“
I can’t.” He grabbed me and pulled me into the cove in the hall where the perpetually empty student planning offices were. We were tucked into a small, dark space together. His eyes were on me, gleaming with anger. “It’s not just a damn game. Whatever it is that I feel for you is more real than anything I’ve ever felt before.”
“
Because you can’t have me,” I insisted, my voice high. “Because I’m with Jake. It’s just your testosterone, Saxon. And maybe your ego, too.”
“
That’s a load of bullshit. I thought you were good at seeing through that.”
I could see the veins standing out in his neck, could smell the smoky, musky guy smell of him. I knew what his mouth tasted like, knew what it felt like to have his arms around me. I knew he had a strange loyalty that was admirable. I knew he would take a punch in the mouth as penance for hurting his friend. I knew so much about him, and then again, I didn’t know him at all.
And I realized he was going to kiss me. When we kissed the last time, Jake and I hadn’t been together officially. The only way I could forgive that time was because of a huge technicality. Now, there was nothing like that looming over us. If he kissed me, it would be an affront to my relationship with Jake, and I would have no choice but to tell him.
And if I had to tell Jake that, it would all come out. That couldn’t happen. Not yet.
I turned my head so his lips grazed my cheek.
“
You want to. Don’t be such a coward.” His breath was hot on my ear.
But I kept my face turned away. He looked at me for a few seconds, his chest heaving with his excited breath.
He put his mouth close to my ear. “You’re a coward. This is bullshit.” He pushed off the wall and stalked away, and I sank down against the door of the student planning offices and sat for a few minutes, until the shaking stopped.
I walked to class slowly, realizing I would be late, but not caring. When I walked through the door a few seconds after the bell, I saw the entire class buzzing with activity. Only one person sat completely alone, looking like a deer in headlights.
Devon Conner.
My partner.
Everyone else had teamed up in pairs or groups, but Devon sat alone, staring blankly at his assignment page. Mr. Dawes read the newspaper at his desk. He was the kind of teacher who wouldn’t give a crap if Devon didn’t wind up in a group. When it came to classroom social politics, Dawes’s leadership style was a mirror image of Jack’s in
Lord of the Flies
; kill or be killed.
I walked in and grabbed the closest empty desk to Devon’s. He looked at me with naked relief on his face.
“
I thought you were absent.” He sank against his seat and rubbed a hand over his forehead.
“
I’m not.” I took out my book and notebook and clicked my pen. “What’s the assignment?”
Devon grabbed the paper and scanned it. “We have to break Frankford down into the island. We need to talk about how different cliques represent different people or groups.” He looked up and his small eyes searched my face. “I don’t think you would fit anyone on the island.”
I glanced up from my notebook. “What do you mean?”
“
You’re not psychotically cruel, like Jack or you wouldn’t have agreed to be my partner.” Devon doodled small squares on the edge of his notebook. “You’re not a goody-goody like Ralph because you go to Tech and date Saxon Maclean.”
“
I don’t date Saxon,” I interrupted. He raised his bushy eyebrows at me. “I don’t,” I repeated.
“
That’s weird. I saw him put a guy in a headlock for saying you were hot after German yesterday.” Devon scribbled over the squares on his paper.
I know my face flushed red. “We’re…not dating,” I said finally.
“
Anyway, you aren’t a goody-goody. You aren’t pathetic like Piggy. That’s what people like me represent.”
“
You aren’t pathetic,” I said without much conviction. I just felt pity when I said it. Which was pretty pathetic.
“
Yeah, I am. I know, I’m a little weird. I always have been, socially. I just can’t figure it all out. Like Piggy. Or Simon. Maybe I’m like a combination of them.”
I cringed. The two who were totally bullied through the entire book.
“
You aren’t like Sam and Eric because there’s no one you’re that close to. You aren’t that popular. And you’re not Roger.”
“
If you meet someone like Roger, run the other way fast,” I said. He smiled at me. It was an awkward, nervous, wary smile, but it was a smile. “You’ll know him. He’ll have a stick sharpened at both ends.”
He laughed out loud, a kind of donkey bray mixed with a wheeze, but it made me laugh too.
“
So I think we should do whatever we agree on first.” Devon took out a fresh, non-doodled piece of paper. “What about Piggy and Simon?”
“
Don’t lump them,” I warned and took out my own paper. “Piggy is thoughtful and believes in leadership. Simon is more of a free spirit, and he’s the only one who communicates directly with the Beast.”
Devon and I broke the school down, agreeing on groups and assigning. We gave Piggy to the Righteous Whiners/Social Misfits, those aggravating kids in your AP class who remind the teacher there was supposed to be a pop quiz when everyone else was praying the teacher forgot. Simon, we decided, was the Achieving Pothead group; still socially present, but nervous, panicked and prone to seeing more than was there. Sam and Eric were the jocks and their groupies, happy together, likable, not many real thoughts of their own. Ralph was the Moral Intellectuals, those do-gooder achievers who aced every test and worried over the fate of everyone in the world. Roger was the Quiet Rage group, the ones who loved horror flicks, made lists of people they wanted to kill and were gleeful about torture and little else.
That left Jack.
“
Jack is Saxon, your not-boyfriend.” Devon wrote Saxon’s name next to Jack before we had even discussed it.
“
Hey, Devon, I think that’s a little bit of a leap.” I tapped my pen on his book.
Devon looked at me with his eyebrows raised. “You think that’s a leap? He’s arrogant, right?” I nodded. “Kind of charming? Kind of inspiring? Kind of evil? Kind of manipulative?” I was nodding so much I felt like a bobblehead.
“
But that’s just a list of some of his traits,” I argued lamely. Why was it bothering me so much? It was an English assignment. Didn’t I just want it done with? Wasn’t it better to just let Devon fill in whatever and finish?
“
Well, there’s also the core of Saxon.” Devon put his pencil down and looked at me. He was bright and likable. I wondered why he had become the Piggy of the class. Why wasn’t he better liked?
“
What do you think the core of Saxon is?” Devon Conner had secrets I’d never imagined, and I was suddenly interested in knowing him better.
“
That he can take a totally normal situation and twist it until it’s whatever he wants. That’s what Saxon’s all about.” Devon picked his pencil back up and started to write again. “Oh, we need a code name. Dawes said we could use the person for description’s sake, but not to use any real names.”
“
Okay.” I wasn’t really listening to Devon. Was Saxon’s mind-gaming that obvious? “Devon?”
“
Yeah?” He looked up from his scribbled notes.
“
Is this all stuff you just noticed about Saxon?”
“
Well, yes, but not really.” I raised my eyebrows, demanding an explanation. “He got the kids in middle school to gang up on me and exclude me.”
“
What did he do?” I wanted to know so badly, but I had a feeling the answer wouldn’t really surprise me.
“
It sounds so stupid.” Devon shook his head and shrugged. “He just said ’fag’ every time he walked by me. Every single time. Always. Even if there was a teacher right by us. He never laughed or said anything else. But it made me into a misfit, and then everyone else just decided to hate me.”
“
That sucks.” I imagined the horror Devon must have gone through day in and day out, battling a master of manipulation.
“
Yeah, I know it sounds dumb. Don’t ask how it worked. That’s Saxon’s magic. He can really subtly bring total havoc.” Devon drummed his pencil on the desk frantically.
“
Like Armageddon.” I echoed Jake’s words from that morning. I looked at Devon; smart, sensible, friendly Devon. How was he still a misfit? “But didn’t Saxon stop?”
“
Oh yeah.” Devon drummed his pencil with more force. “One day instead of saying ‘fag,’ he just completely ignored me. I never really knew why he started. He’s never even talked to me since, like, seventh grade. But whatever he did stuck like a curse.”
“
Devon.” I grabbed his hand and the pencil fell from his fingers. He looked up at me with panic all over his face. “He’s just full of shit. His bullshit can’t define your life.”
He looked at my hand on his and smiled. “But it’s already defined my life. Don’t look so upset. It’s not so bad.”
He was different now, comfortable with me. A few days before he had a wild rabbit look to him and he blurted out stupid things with an edginess I knew now was just nerves. He was still under Saxon’s curse, even if everyone else had forgotten.
“
Do you hang out?” I knew I was venturing into dangerous territory.