Harmonic Feedback (10 page)

“No—I’m—”

“Leave me alone!”

“What’s going on back there?” Mr. Duncan asked.

Justin faced forward, and I looked up at the teacher. Every head was turned in my direction.

“Nothing,” I said, my face on fire.

The teacher looked from me to Justin for a few moments before continuing. “I got the class syllabus printed off as promised.” He fished a stack of papers out of his bag and began divvying them up among the rows. “As most of you know, I like to start the semester off with a bang, and I thought we’d tackle
Go Ask Alice
this year.”

A couple of groans reverberated around the room. “Just say no!” a boy jeered.

“Sounds like you’ve read it,” Mr. Duncan said. “And here I thought you guys were too busy watching
America’s Next Top Model
or
Lost
.”

“I read it in, like, seventh grade,” a girl with long braids said. “It’s a good book.”

“Well, now you get to dissect it.”

Justin dangled a stapled bunch of papers over his shoulder. I ripped them out of his hand, hoping to give him paper cuts.

“And you’ll notice I’m still all about the journals.”

More groans filtered throughout the room.

“Yeah, yeah. They’re good for you. An entry is due every Friday. Tell me your thoughts on life. What you had for dinner, your favorite color or band. Whatever’s on your mind. I won’t be grading these—but I’ll flunk you if you don’t turn them in every week.”

The thought of trying to organize my thoughts made my head hurt. I never got the point of journals. Why document things I already know? That’s boring. Plus, most experiences weren’t worth rehashing.

Most of the class whispered to each other as Mr. Duncan passed out the books. Justin held one over his shoulder for me, but he moved it every time I tried to grab it.

“Give me the book, jerk.”

“And it looks like we’re a couple short,” Mr. Duncan announced. “I’ll be right back.”

Justin waited for him to leave before turning to face me. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m not making fun of you.”

“Yeah, right.”

His eyes widened. “Do you have any idea how many boxes I had to go through to find these pants?”

“No, and I don’t care. Can you give me the book now?”

He raised the book, but still kept it out of reach. “Come on, I’m wearing eyeliner here. I didn’t even go this far when I
was
a Goth.”

“Did you borrow that from your niece too?”

He smirked. “No, my older sister.”

The image of Justin struggling to put on eyeliner
was
rather funny.

“Was that a hint of a smile I saw?”

“You look ridiculous,” I said. Even though I kind of liked the way he looked. It was an improvement over the boring Nike shirt.

“You’re hard to please,” he whispered. “What look should I try tomorrow? Raver? Punk? How about a skater cowboy?” He set the book down on my desk and smiled.

Mr. Duncan tore back into the classroom and passed out the remaining books. Justin turned around and flipped through the pages.

A shadowed eyeball peered at me from the black cover. The face reminded me of Mom after she gets dumped. Her dark eyes get shiny and flat at the same time. I flipped to the first page and scanned what looked to be a journal entry. Whoever wrote it sounded young—my age maybe. She thought she had something worthwhile to say—but instead the diary had become nothing, like the rest of her life.

Naomi wasn’t waiting outside my biology class. I found her at the fountain having an in-depth conversation with Justin. Seeing her throw her head back and laugh made my stomach hurt. Whatever he said couldn’t have been that funny.

I marched up to him, preparing the perfect speech in my head. Something that would put him in his place and send him on his merry way.

Then he smiled at me and patted the space next to him, and I forgot how to speak English.

“You,” I said.

“Me,” he answered.

“Go away.”

“And leave you to Roger? Never.”

Naomi giggled. “Guess what? Justin plays piano.”

I sat on the other side of her and ripped my lunch bag from my backpack. “I know.”

“And he plays bass too. I was thinking—he could join our band. With him, we’ve got every instrument covered.”

“I can play the bass just fine,” I said, unraveling my jelly sandwich.

“But do you play the piano?” Naomi asked.

“Don’t need to. I’ve got a midi keyboard and piano samples. I can just program the notes.”

“And it sounds cold and robotic,” Justin said. “Even electronica can use that human touch sometimes.”

“Are you going to haul a piano into my grandma’s basement?”

“How about a keyboard? My Bösendorfer isn’t very travel friendly.”

I dropped my sandwich in my lap. “For real? You have a Bösendorfer?”

He looked down at his hands. “Yes.”

“Okay, what’s a Bösen-dopper or whatever?” Naomi asked.

I gritted my teeth. “It’s a really nice and expensive piano. But I have some samples of one on my computer.”

“Oh, yeah.” Justin snorted. “That’ll beat the real thing.”

“Are your parents, like, off-the-charts rich, or what?” Naomi asked him. “Because you’ve got a real nice ride too.”

He bit into his sandwich and shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Well, you’re either loaded or you aren’t,” Naomi said. “Which is it?”

“My dad’s a rap star.”

Naomi rolled her eyes and elbowed him. “Okay, fine. Don’t tell me.” She whipped out her cell phone, pressed a couple buttons, and handed it to me. “Give me your digits. I wanted to hang out last night, but I was afraid your grandma would eat me if I dropped by too late.”

Justin laughed softly into his sandwich, turning his face away.

“Where’s Kari?” I asked him, punching in my cell number.

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I heard you guys hooked up last night.” Naomi wiggled her eyebrows at him.

He squinted at me, shaking his head. “Having food at a café doesn’t equate to hooking up. She offered to show me around town—I thought, Why not?”

“I didn’t ask,” I said. “Why are you here anyway?”

“I invited him. We’ve got fourth period together.” Naomi took her phone from me and grinned at the number I’d plugged in.

Justin leaned around her to look at me. “I figured if we have to make a movie together—we might as well be civil. But I’ll leave if you’d like.”

“Okay,” I said, pretending to savor a bite of my sandwich. The chunk felt more like a rock edging its way down my throat. I didn’t really want him to leave, but I was afraid to let him stay. His presence gave me this tightness in my chest. Like I couldn’t breathe. And I hated how I kept looking at his lips when he spoke—wanting to touch them.

“Don’t go,” Naomi said to him.

I could feel both of them looking at me, waiting for a response. All I could do was count the cracks on the pavement. Most of them were faint, but a couple were large and gaping. Ready to swallow me.

“It’s cool.” He crumpled up his bag and zipped up his backpack. “I’ll see you in film, Drea.”

“Call me!” Naomi yelled after him as he walked toward the steps.

He gave her a small wave before going into the building.

“What’s your deal?” she asked. I didn’t like the tone of her voice—it sounded more cutting than usual. Higher in pitch.

“He’s a jerk.”

“I haven’t seen him be anything but nice to you. Confess already, huh? Who broke your heart?”

I stuffed my half-eaten sandwich into the bag, willing my mind to think of a brilliant answer. The thought of telling Naomi the truth made my teeth grind. She’d probably see me like everyone else did—sad, lonely, weird, even pathetic. When in doubt, I could always use Mom’s experiences. “He cheated on me—well—a couple of them did.”

She put her hand on my knee. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” The warmth of her hand reminded me of our kiss, something neither of us had mentioned since it happened.

Roger sauntered up to us and tossed his backpack on the cement. “What’s up?”

“Lunch is half over. Where the hell have you been?” she asked him.

“Got held up by my math teacher.” He nodded at me. “What’s up, Drea? You dump that loser?”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend in the first place,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow at Naomi, but she shrugged. “Guess it was just a fling,” she said.

Roger leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “Scott got some killer bud last night. It’s in my car.”

“Sweet. Let’s go.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me with her.

I held back. “I-I don’t—”

“Come on!” Her hand tightened around mine.

“But I don’t want to go anywhere. We’ll be late for—”

She rolled her eyes. “Chill, Drea.”

Naomi and Roger scanned our surroundings as we walked around the side of the main building. Our shoes sank in the muddy grass.

“How long will this take?” I asked.

Instead of answering, she jogged after Roger toward a row of evergreen trees. They ducked behind the low branches, but I could still see Naomi’s rainbow laces and Roger’s dirt-smeared tennis shoes. The wet grass was like ice under my boots.

“Hurry up, Drea! You’re gonna get caught,” Naomi hissed.

Each step made me teeter to the left or right. I held my arms out for balance and took short, fast steps until I reached the trees. Then I dove under the branches and inhaled deeply. The air smelled like maple syrup and cigarette smoke.

A few students stood in the shade of the evergreens. Kari and Casey leaned against a trunk, narrowing their eyes at Naomi. Lipstick-stained cigarette butts smoldered near their feet. Kari met my gaze and leaned into Casey, whispering something. Both girls laughed, high and shrill.

“Ignore them,” Naomi said, leading me through a break in the trees.

We passed a lip-locked couple—all tangled fingers and soft laughter. I wondered how that felt.

Roger’s car was cream colored and shaped like an egg. The inside reeked of stale ashes and engine oil. Mom had a car like his once—even the brown upholstery was the same. Like cheap bath towels.

Roger reached over Naomi’s knees and snagged his green pipe from the glove box. Then he pulled out a plastic baggy filled with what looked like herbs.

“Ooh, that looks good.” Naomi grinned.

“Yeah, it’s real smooth.” He stuffed a pinch into the pipe and shoved the baggie back into the glove box.

“Good, because Scott’s been getting bunk lately.”

“You’re still hanging out with Scott?” I asked. The contents of my stomach crept into my throat. Why did she insist on hanging out with these guys?

“He might’ve dropped by last night.” She smiled wide and took the pipe from Roger.

He squinted at her. “He hooked up with Kelly this weekend, you know.”

She bit her lip, shrugging. “So? He already told me.”

“He was scoping out Drea on Saturday too.”

“And he told me he was totally joking.”

I swallowed hard and focused on the motor oil bottles below my feet. “Didn’t sound that way to me.”

“Do you buy everything he tells you?” Roger asked.

“Yeah, he said you’d say that too.” Naomi thrust the pipe in front of me. “You get to do the honors, Drea.”

“No, tha—”

“Why are you so into him?” Roger spoke over me.

Naomi rolled her eyes and wiggled the pipe at me. “You smoking or not?”

I took it from her, letting the cold metal sink into my palm. She settled back in the front seat and gazed out the window.

“Hey, there’s Justin,” she said.

“Where?” I asked, scanning the parking lot.

“In his fancy car. He’s, like, taking a nap or something.”

Justin’s black BMW was two cars down, facing us. He had his seat reclined, and his head bobbed slightly—like he was lost in a song.

“Do you think he smokes?” Naomi asked.

“Yeah, right,” Roger said. “He’s got Momma’s Boy written all over his sorry ass.”

“Shut up. He’s nice,” she said.

He shook his head at her. “Is there anyone you don’t want to bone?”

“Yeah—
you
.”

Roger shifted in his seat and drummed his hands against the steering wheel. “Whatever.”

Naomi slapped my knee. “Come on—use it or lose it, babe.”

“You go first,” I said, handing it back to her.

She stuck the pipe between her lips and ran the lighter over the end. Her face turned bright red before she finally blew the smoke out. The pungent odor stung my nostrils like Mom’s overheated coffee.

“Nice.” Her voice sounded hoarse. She squinted at me when I hesitated to take the pipe from her. “Why do you look so freaked?”

“I don’t know.” I took the pipe and the lighter from her. The warmth of the metal burned into my hand this time. Naomi and Roger watched me with half smiles—as if they knew I had no clue what I was doing.

And then the bell echoed from the school. “We should go,” I said, dropping the pipe in Roger’s lap.

“Watch it,” he said.

Naomi rolled her eyes. “You got time for a toke, hon.”

My throat tightened and my chest felt heavy. All I wanted to do was get out of that car. I fumbled with the lock, but the door didn’t budge. “Let me out.”

“Uh—
you
locked it,” Roger said, shaking his head and clicking it open again.

“What’s wrong with you?” Naomi asked.

“I can’t breathe in here.” I shoved the door open and flung my backpack over my shoulder.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Naomi said.

I slammed the door shut and weaved through the parked cars. The drizzle had thickened into a soft rain, making me shiver. I was about to make a run for the school when someone grabbed my elbow and pulled me behind an SUV.

“Hey”—Justin spun me around—“it’s just me.”

I sucked in my breath and tried to break free, but he tightened his grip on my arm.

“Do you not see security standing about fifty feet away?” he asked.

I peeked around the rear of the large silver vehicle he was leaning against. A man and woman in blue rain jackets stood at the parking lot entrance. The man spoke into a two-way radio, and the woman began walking in our direction.

“She’s coming,” I whispered.