Authors: Liz Reinhardt
“
I’ve got a catalog!” Mom gushed. “You can look through it tonight, sweetie, then we’ll go pick everything up. This will be so fun! We can look at paint samples at that little store by the mall.”
“
Sounds good.” I smiled when Thorsten winked at me. Mom brought the catalog in and measured the room and windows before she kissed me goodnight.
When I was alone, I was psyched to find out that I had wireless access, and that it actually worked. I had set up my Facebook page in Denmark, but I hadn’t looked for many of my American friends. I just felt like it was odd to send friend requests to people I hadn’t seen in months and who might not even remember me or want my request. Most of my friends were cousins and family, but tonight I did some searching. I sent a request to Kelsie, Saxon and Jake.
All three of their profiles were set to private. Kelsie’s profile picture was really pretty. Unlike most Facebook girl pictures, she wasn’t making a duck face at the camera or pouting. She was smiling, and her smile was real and gorgeous. Saxon’s picture was just his silhouette, and he was wearing a hoodie, so I could barely make out his face. Jake’s picture was of him leaned against a dirt bike, his arms crossed. He was smiling and there were flecks of mud all over his face. Since I would have to wait for them to accept my requests before I could see their pages, I logged off and went to sleep.
That night, I dreamed about Jake and Saxon. In the dream they were racing dirt bikes. We were in an arena that looked a lot like Medieval Times, and I realized that they were racing for Kelsie. She was the princess, and the winner of the race would get her hand in marriage. I was really mad, watching them, but I didn’t want to show it.
The next morning I was in a crappy mood before my feet even hit the floor. I took my shower and got ready for school with a dark cloud over my head I just couldn’t shake. Mom was waiting with oatmeal and ideas for my room. We chatted for a while, and she clicked her tongue when I went to get on my bike.
“
It’s good for me,” I said. “I like it.”
“
It’s freezing. They’re saying this cold snap is breaking records.” She hugged her body and shivered for effect.
“
I’ll keep my hat and scarf on. I promise.”
“
Wear your helmet,” she sulked.
“
I always do.” I kissed her, then started out, and if I was a little bit excited to see Saxon, I didn’t admit it. First of all, he was seeing Kelsie, and she was pretty much the only friend I had. Secondly, he was trouble. You just got this sense about him, like no matter how into you he pretended to be, he would be kissing you with his eyes on the next pretty girl he noticed. I pedaled harder, building a really solid case against him. By the time I made it to school, I was pretty sure I could look him in the eye and hate him.
Then I saw him leaned against the bike rack and all those little fragments of carefully built up hate slid out of my head and got replaced with a warm, happy excitement I couldn’t stamp out. I popped my iPod into my pocket and tried not to look like a complete fumbling dork while I locked up my bike.
“
Hey, Saxon.” I wasn’t going to ignore him. I wasn’t going to be rude.
“
I want to take you out,” he announced out of the blue, without preamble. His dark eyes focused on me with wolfish interest.
“
I thought you were taking Kelsie out.” I pulled off my hat and smoothed my flyaways.
“
It’s just a date, Blixen. It’s not like we’re going to get married.” There was a razor edge to his voice.
“
Would you tell Kelsie that you were taking me on a date?” I challenged.
“
What you and I do has nothing to do with anyone else.” His voice was a little snarly. I tucked my hair behind my ears and looked at him for a long time.
“
No thanks.” I whirled on my heel and started towards English.
“
Wait up!” He had to chase me down the hall a little, and I could tell he didn’t like it at all. I don’t think Saxon ever had to chase anyone anywhere. “We could just hang out then, right? As friends?” He gritted his teeth over the word.
“
Why?” I asked. “You don’t really seem all that friendly.”
“
I’m friendly when I want to be.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, like I was really irritating him. We were standing outside my locker and he had one hand pressed on the metal of the top compartment.
“
I need to get in there.” I pointed where his hand was pressed.
“
Say yes to one friendly date.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night.”
My heart rocketed into my throat. I didn’t want to admit that I’d been thinking about him, too, though it would have been fun to tell him that I was thinking about him
and
another boy.
“
Maybe you need a hobby,” I suggested, widening my eyes. “Model airplanes? Skateboarding? How about music? You could take up the guitar.”
“
You’re funny,” he muttered. “I need to get you out of my system.”
I knew in that moment that Saxon felt way more for me than he wanted to or than he was willing to admit. He didn’t like that he felt this way about me, so he was going to get rid of me. Well, he could screw off for all I cared. I wasn’t about to let him use me for entertainment then dump me when he was done.
“
That sucks for you. I’m not available, and I’m not interested. So go bother someone else.” Even while I was saying those words to him, part of me wanted him to grab me and kiss me right there. He looked angry and hungry at the same time, and I didn’t want him to stop looking at me like that.
“
Fine.” His voice was low again. “But I’m not an idiot, Brenna. This isn’t a one-sided thing. I know you feel something about me. We’re going to end up together eventually. If you’re too chicken to face it, that’s your thing.”
He stalked away like he owned the whole hallway, and I went to class so mad I could feel my face flaming. Who did he think he was? Obviously God’s gift to women. I had never met anyone so arrogant, so completely full of himself. I marched into English and plopped down in my seat. Mr. Dawes was already filling up the chalkboard with notes about Golding’s life and career. I took out my blue notebook and binder (everything for English was blue. I know; color coding is dork central), when Devon Conner turned around.
“
You’re in Tech?” He blinked like there was something in his eye.
“
Yes,” I hissed. “What’s it to you?”
“
Well, this is honors English,” he said matter-of-factly. “I didn’t think Tech kids were allowed in honors classes.” He had a big nose. It crossed my mind that it would make an excellent target for my fist.
“
Look, jerkoff, maybe you should turn around and take the freaking notes before they ship you off to Tech with all the other dirty lowlifes like me.”
“
I was just asking a question,” Devon whined.
“
A pretty damn stupid one,” I muttered.
“
Is there a problem Mr. Conner? Ms. Blixen?” Mr. Dawes asked.
“
No.” I gave him my most angelic face. “Devon can’t see the board. He was asking to copy my notes after class.”
Butter could have melted in my mouth, I was that good.
Mr. Dawes nodded. “Mr. Conner, front and center. Ms. Blixen isn’t your personal transcriber. If you need a seat adjustment, bring a note from your eye doctor,” he barked. I smirked when Mr. Dawes’s back was turned.
“
Geez, I was just asking a question,” Devon sulked childishly.
Right.
The rest of the day went just as badly. In Government I had to sit right next to Saxon and work through the problems that were on our sheet. He didn’t lift a finger to help, which annoyed me.
“
We’re supposed to be partners.” I scribbled on my paper with furious frustration when my ink went dry.
“
Not all partnerships are equal.” He smiled meanly, plucked the pen out of my hand, wet the tip on his tongue, and handed it back to me. “Maybe we don’t have a symbiotic relationship.”
“
So instead of you being the little bird eating meat out of my crocodile jaws, you’re the big, fat tapeworm killing me slowly?” I spat, ultra annoyed when the ink flowed smoothly on the paper.
“
You took biology already?”
“
My mom and I did a home school program in Denmark last year, and we liked the earth science part so much we did the biology right after we were done.” I kept my voice monotone on purpose.
“
So you were a supergeek, working round the clock on science hypotheses?” He jiggled his leg and made my sentence scrawl sideways down the page. I glared at him.
“
Actually, when you cut out the textbook bull and don’t have twenty-five other apes to deal with, a lesson that takes forty-five minutes in school can take a fraction of the time at home.” My voice grew louder against my will. “For example, a government sheet that would normally take me half an hour can take three times longer to do when I have an irritating partner asking me idiotic questions every few minutes.”
He snatched his paper off of the table, dug in his pocket for a pen, and nodded at me. “Ready?” he asked
“
For what?”
“
You did pages four to six. I’ll do seven to nine.” He raised his eyebrows, at me. “Ready?” repeated.
I couldn’t help but like the dark gleam in his eye, and if I said I didn’t like the way his muscles pushed through his
Black Lips
t-shirt, I’d be lying. I had to give myself a little slack if I couldn’t stop glancing at the tears in his gray work pants, where the dark, hairy skin of his legs showed through and looked so guyish and unlike my smooth, white legs.
“
I’m ready when you are.” I held my pen up expectantly.
“
Page seven, question 31. Write this: “The judicial system allows for state governments to decide for themselves whether elected officials should…” his voice droned on and on. He answered every question, not pausing, not looking through the book to double check. And I was willing to bet my life that his answers were absolutely right. It was especially sickening to realize that I was more than happy to listen to Saxon’s voice recite government facts all period long. What was wrong with me?
“
Done.” He flipped his half filled-in worksheet on the table.
My hand cramped with pain. I shook it out. “Thanks,” I muttered.
“
You did the rest of the work.” I knew he was trying to be fair.
“
Yeah, I bet that really helped you.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. “I mean, someone with a photographic memory really needs to rely on his underclassman partner to pull him through a set of questions he had memorized.”
“
So maybe
you’re
the big fat tape worm.” He puffed his cheeks out at me, and I smiled in spite of my resolution not to.
“
Call me a parasite and we’re even.”
He flicked my sleeve. “I like your shirt.” He took a minute to look at it. I rolled my eyes, fairly sure he was looking at what was contained in the shirt, but did I really have a leg to stand on there? I had been checking him out all morning.
“
Thanks. I made it.” It took me a week to get the picture just right before I silk-screened it. It was a picture of my mom dancing at Thorsten’s birthday. I think she had tipped a bit too much vodka into the birthday punch, and it made for a crazy picture. I used the digital program on Thorsten’s computer to fade the image, filled it in with swirls of black and red, made a pink halo around it, then printed it, ironed it on a black shirt and flecked white paint on with a toothbrush. Mom cracked up when she saw it.
“
Brenna, you made me look like some punk rocker! I was dancing to the Beatles for heaven’s sake!” she had laughed.
“
You’re kidding.” He looked more closely. “Like, you added the paint?”
“
No,” I said slowly. “If all I did was flick some paint on it, would I say that I’d made it?” I shook my head. “I took a picture, morphed it, made it an iron on and ironed it. Oh yeah, then I flicked some paint on it.”
“
Wow.” Saxon was clearly impressed. “Really, wow. I love it.”
“
Thanks. It was originally a picture of my mom dancing to ‘Yellow Submarine,’” I admitted, even though I didn’t really want to share the story with Saxon. I felt like he might think it was ridiculous.
“
Your mom? Really?” His grin was completely confident. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“
She’d hate you.” I was surprised by how totally sure I was about it.
“
No mom hates me.” His face radiated arrogance.
“
My mom likes no boy,” I returned. “She’s very protective.”
“
Yeah, well, I’m sure she’s no dummy. If I had a daughter like you, I’d lock her in a closet and never let her out.” His voice pitched a few octaves deeper.
“
I’m a trustworthy kid.” I ignored his innuendo. “My parents know that about me.”
“
It isn’t you I’d worry about.” Saxon burned me with a long, obvious look. “It’s any guy with eyes in his head that would worry me.”
“
Yeah.” I kept my voice light even though my heart pounded so hard I was sure it would rip through my super cool shirt. “I guess I
am
pretty ridiculously gorgeous.”
He tugged on the end of my hair. “You’re joking. I’m being serious. You’re damn gorgeous. It’s actually distracting.”