I'm Not Her (20 page)

There’s a scanned copy of his winning sketch. I stare without blinking.

It’s a girl. Crumpled on the sidewalk, a crashed bike off by her side. A car is parked beside her and a boy stands in front of her holding out his hand. Her body is twisted, shrinking away from the boy, in a way that is breathtaking in its complexity of emotion. Without words and with his incredible lines, he’s created a story, a rich story each person who views will interpret in their own way.

It’s heartbreaking. It’s amazing.

It’s me.

There’s a boy here to see you.” Dad knocks at my door and then opens it a tiny bit and pokes his head in. “He seems a little…odd,” he adds.

“Odd?”

“See for yourself.”

He smiles, unsure, but I don’t grin back. I’m not done with him. I’m not going to just drop the conversation he walked out on earlier. We’re not going to do things the old way. Pretend nothing happened, pretend everything is fine. I want to finish it.

I get up and slowly leave my room, my heart pattering a little faster. I head down the stairs and stop at the bottom landing, where I see a boy standing in the middle of the living room.

He’s wearing a blue T-shirt with a big yellow
S
on the front. And a red cape is tied over his shoulders. He doesn’t have his glasses on. The dork. I start to laugh.

“Superman much?” I say and he turns and smiles at me.

The sight of him in the goofy getup makes me laugh harder. He starts to laugh with me as I make my way toward him, wiping under my eyes, wondering if they’re as puffy and red as they feel.

“Tess?” my dad says from the hallway behind me. He steps forward and puts a hand on my shoulder.

I shrug his hand off. “It’s okay. He’s my friend.” I stare at him, until he gets the message and nods once and heads back to the kitchen.

Clark takes his glasses from his jeans pocket, puts them on and adjusts them on his nose. “Before he died, Jeremy dared me to do this. To make you laugh,” he tells me. “He said you could use a laugh. And now, well, I guess I could too.” He stops for a second and bites his bottom lip. “Jeremy lent me this red cape. It’s from his old Halloween costume.” He pauses. “He liked to make dares.”

I move to his side and touch the cape. It’s slippery, like polyester. “It is funny,” I say quietly. There was more to Jeremy than I chose to see.

“I’m really sorry you lost your best friend.” I take my hand off the cape and hold it out toward the couch. He goes to sit and I join him, but far enough away so that it’s not uncomfortable and we’re not touching.

“He liked you.” Clark says. “You might not have known that. But he did.”

“He liked my sister more,” I joke, trying to keep things light.

“Who wouldn’t?” Clark smiles and adjusts his glasses. “Hey, I made you smile again. It was worth walking all the way to your house in this getup after all.”

“Really?” For some reason that makes me want to cry.

“Well, to make you smile and to ask if you’d go to the Winter Ball with me?” It comes out in a huge rush and then his cheeks redden and he develops a sudden interest in his feet. “I know it might seem stupid, going to a dance so soon after, well, after Jeremy died. But I think he would have liked this. And I kind of want to do it. For him. If that makes any sense.”

“It’s tomorrow night. That’s not much notice,” I point out, but his reasoning makes having a boy on my couch asking me to go to a dance actually make sense.

“I know. I thought about not going, with everything, but then, well, I was thinking about Jeremy and how he dared me to ask you. And I thought I should honor his dare. Do it.” His cheeks are flushed and he still hasn’t looked up at me.

“And ask a non–Honor Society person like me?” I pretend to be shocked.

He looks up then and laughs. “I can hang with your kind once in a while.”

I nod. “As friends?”

“I’ll take that,” he says. “For now,” he adds, but then his tongue flicks out as he licks his lip and it’s so nervous and cute that my insides do a little dip. A dip that is not for just a friend.

“My mom will drive us,” he says. “She won’t let me take the car, afraid I’ll get drunk and drive, even though I promised I wouldn’t be drinking. Is that okay? Her driving?”

I hide a grin behind my hand and nod.

“We’ll pick you up at seven?” He groans and laughs. “Me and my mommy?”

I laugh with him. We sit quietly for a moment.

“You still have a crush on that senior? Nick Evonic?” he blurts out of the blue.

I lower my eyes and develop an interest in my own feet. “No.”

“Good,” Clark says.

“He’s a jerk.”

“Yeah. But he won some art contest.”

I blink with surprise. “How do you know about it?”

“I saw it on TV.”

I punch the pillow on the couch beside me. “He only knew about it because I told him I entered it! And then he entered without even telling me.”

“The Oswald Drawing Prize?” he says. “You entered that?”

I feel another blast of sadness. Nick has the fame. The glory. I’m still just Tess. Kristina’s little sister.

“Well,” Clark says. “You’re wicked talented in art. You’re the best freshman by far. You’ll beat him another year.”

“Thanks.” I smile then. Damn straight I’m talented. I’m not giving up on my art. I’ll work harder. Get better. Something digs inside me and spreads like a good rumor. Determination. I have it in me to fight for what I want. I won’t give anyone the satisfaction of keeping me down or getting the last word.

Clark and I chat for a while longer and then when he says he has to get home, I walk him to the front door.

“You flying home?” I ask, grinning at his cape.

He fluffs it behind him. “You bet your ass,” he says and grins.

When he’s gone, I head down the hallway toward the kitchen. Dad is sitting in the living room, watching me.

“Everything okay?” he calls out. “Any reason that kid was wearing a costume?”

“Yeah. There was. A good one.” I cross my arms and glare at him. “How about you, Dad?”

“Me?” He glances around as if I’m talking to some other dad.

“Any reason you are having an affair?” I ask.

“What?” He shakes his head. “No,” he answers. “I mean…No.”

“It was me,” I say. “Who called. When that woman answered.”

“I know.” He gets to his feet and then sits down again. His face looks pale. “She’s just a work friend, Tess. She was in my office when you called. It was nothing. I love your mom,” he tells me.

“Well, maybe you should tell her that,” I say. “And quit working and golfing all the time.”

“I’m sorry I let you down,” he says. “All of you. You’re all my girls. I’d do anything in the world for you.”

“Then start showing up for this family.” I turn around and head into the kitchen, not willing to go any deeper. I don’t want to know their secrets. There’s only so far I can go.

I hear a throat clear. It’s Kristina, standing at the kitchen counter, perched on her crutches, a glass of water in her hand.

“Holy shit, you gave it to him, Tess,” she says. She rolls her eyes. “You know what? He actually came into my room tonight. Asked me how I was doing. I told him I felt like someone cut off my leg.” And then she actually grins. It’s the first time I’ve seen a real one in a while. “So. You have a date for the Winter Dance?”

“Were you eavesdropping on me?” I ask, but I’m not really mad.

“Totally,” she says. “Tess?”

I raise my eyebrows. “When I was in the hospital, Jeremy made me a bet. That you would go to the Winter Ball with Clark.”

“Really?” I smile. “We’re just friends,” I tell her.

She nods. “They’re the best kind.”

I’m wearing a friggin’ dress. It’s white and frilly with halter straps and it kind of makes me want to vomit. Kristina picked it out from her own closet and I promised to wear it. It’s shorter on me of course, and doesn’t even cover my knees, but she said she wanted me to show off my great legs. Under the circumstances, how can I argue with that?

She actually giggles when I stroll down the stairs, and I honestly can’t tell if she’s making fun of me or proud. Either way, it’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh in ages, so it’s worth it.

“Tess, you look amazing!” Kristina says, and she sounds like a proud mama.

“I look like an idiot,” I mumble.

Mom has her camera out even though she’s already seen the outfit and dragged me to the mall for an emergency accessory trip for shoes and jewelry. I gave in and actually let her do my hair and it’s surprisingly cute. She managed to make ringlets out of my red mess with a flat iron. She even brushed on a little eye makeup and lip gloss. I swear I thought she was going to start to cry when she was doing it. God! The things that make my mother happy.

I let her have her stupid moment playing dress-up Barbie with me. Not like it’s going to happen again for a long, long time. She’s snapping so many pictures when I enter the living room, I feel like I’m staring into a strobe light. It’s embarrassing and annoying but kind of…well, not exactly nice, but okay.

Clark is in a dark blue suit, standing beside Dad, both of them shifting from foot to foot and it’s hard to decide who is more uncomfortable. A woman stands on Clark’s other side. She’s petite and cute, and he introduces me to his mom, who volunteered/insisted on driving us to the dance. She’s much more reserved than my mother and doesn’t insist on a million posed pictures.

As soon as we can manage, we hurry out of my house to the car. Clark opens the door for me and tucks me in the backseat. We don’t talk much on the ride over, but he turns and grins at me from the passenger seat every once in a while. It’s not awkward; it’s cute.

The school gym looks like a sad snow globe that wasn’t shaken properly. White snowflakes dangle from the rafters. Fake snow is scattered around in clumps and a couple of big blow-up snowmen people put on their lawns at Christmas time are in one corner. Tinny music is being piped out of giant speakers. A top-forty song from the radio plays. Kids hang around in clusters trying not to look self-conscious in their party duds. A few girls are on the dance floor, dancing like they’re amateur strippers while boys ogle them from the sidelines.

So this is what a school dance looks like.

I spot Nick standing by a blow-up of two penguins wearing Santa hats. Nick is holding hands with Bree and standing with a group of Kristina’s friends. My stomach does a little dip when I see him. Bree is giggling like she checked her brain at the coat check, but looks completely stunning in a low-cut slinky black dress. Nick spots me. He quickly drops Bree’s hand and whispers something in her ear. They both look over at me. I glance away but Nick is already heading toward Clark and me.

Clark steps in front of me, but I put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “I have to deal with it.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Clark asks. He obviously saw the exchange too.

I nod. “I have to face him. Prize-stealing jerk.”

Clark nods. “I’ll go and get you a drink.” He steps back and waits until Nick almost reaches us and then discretely slips away.

“Can you make it a Scotch?” I call to him and he laughs. I smile as he leaves me standing by the bleachers.

“You look great,” Nick says from behind me.

My smile fades and I turn, checking out Nick in his black suit. It looks expensive and he looks handsome. I wonder if Bree bought it for him. “You don’t,” I say.

He lifts a shoulder. There’s a bunch of girls sitting in their party dresses on the bleachers and they watch us with apparent interest. Kristina’s sister and the senior.

“Besides, my boobs aren’t as enormous as your girlfriend’s.”

He doesn’t deny that Bree is his girlfriend. It stings a little, but not as much as it would have a few days ago.

“So,” he says. “You heard the news?”

“You drew a picture of me,” I say in answer. “And you used my dad for financing. You have any idea how much that pisses me off?”

He lifts a shoulder again and brushes his hand over his head. Then he takes a big breath and looks me in the eye. “I drew the picture before I found out about the contest. I knew it was good, and when you told me about it and your dad offered me the entrance fee money, well, it seemed like it was supposed to happen. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. That I entered. I didn’t think I would win. I just wanted a chance. You know. Like everyone else.”

I swallow. Me too, but my freeze thaws a little. A pop song blasts in the background.

“It feels like you stole from me,” I tell him. “Like you used me. In more ways than one.”

Nick plays with the collar of his dress shirt. His neck is a little red. I hope it itches.

“I didn’t mean to. I drew the picture because you got to me.” He glances at me. “You still do.”

“Don’t feed me crap lines,” I snap.

He surprises me by laughing. “You’re going to be fine, Tess. You know that. You’re going to kick some serious butt when you get older.”

“Actually, I wanted to kick your butt now. Well, I would have. If I’d even known you entered.” I force a smile. “I never would have guessed you were that good. You should have told me. That you draw.”

He tugs at the sleeves of his suit jacket. “It would have sounded lame. You know. Hey, baby, let me take you to my place so I can sketch you.” He wiggles his eyebrows up and down. “I don’t talk about my art. My dad says it’s for ‘faggots.’ I didn’t know you were into it too. Not at first.”

“I hate that you beat me,” I tell him.

He grins. “I know. You kind of remind me of my sister,” he says, as if we’d been discussing family similarities.

My face turns bright red and I curse my fair skin and easily heated cheeks. “I remind you of a twelve-year-old girl?”

He puts out his hand and touches my bare shoulder. I flinch and pull away.

“I didn’t mean it as an insult. She hates to lose. And she’s got lots of grit. But she also thinks I’m fabulous.” He grins and his hand kind of hangs in the air as if he’s going to pet me like a puppy dog or something, and then he puts it back at his side and tucks it in his pants pocket.

“I never meant to hurt you, Tess. By uh, you know, kissing you.”

I glance up to make sure the girls in the bleachers can’t hear, but they’re too far away.

“If you were older,” he grins. “And I was nicer.”

“You were my first kiss, you know,” I say, and then my cheeks overheat.

“I know.”

I lift my chin. “But I’m totally over it.”

He laughs. “Well, good. I was never the right kind of guy for you.”

“Yeah,” I say. No matter how much I try to tell my head that crushing on this guy was stupid, my hormones have trouble listening. “You are totally not the right guy. You’re a man-whore.”

He rolls his eyes and his glance goes over to Bree. She wiggles her fingers at him and gives me a pity look and I groan a little inside.

“Clark seems like a nice kid,” he says.

“He’s taller than you,” I helpfully point out.

“But not older. And not as good-looking.”

I scoff.

“Congratulations,” I say. “On the scholarship. Are you going to San Francisco after graduation?”

“Yeah,” he says and smiles. “But only because I worked it out so I can take my sister with me. My aunt lives there. My mom’s sister. When I got the news, I called her. She was actually really happy to hear from me. My dad cut her off from us when my mom died. She seems okay. She’s taking both of us in. She’s registered my sister for school in her neighborhood.”

The music pauses and the DJ yells something about ladies’ choice.

“That’s really cool,” I say. “I guess sometimes things happen for a reason, right?”

“Sometimes,” he says.

I don’t look on the dance floor or around me, but from the corner of my eye I see the girls on the bleachers stand up and start toward a group of boys hanging nearby.

“I wouldn’t have this. If it weren’t for you, you know,” he says.

I shrug. “Well, glad I had a purpose.”

“More than you know. You’re awesome. And stronger than you think you are. And God, you talk a lot now.” He grins.

I see Clark heading back toward us and watch his long legs as they stride closer.

“I got an honorable mention in the Oswald.”

“With a scholarship?”

“Maybe. I doubt I’ll use it. My dad can afford the tuition, remember?”

I have three years to convince my parents what my true destiny is.

“Well, I’ll look for you on campus,” he says. “In three years you’ll be legal.”

Clark steps beside me, holding out a white Styrofoam cup, and Nick steps back away from me as I take it from Clark.

“See you around, kid.” Nick turns and walks back toward Bree. She’s boogying in place, shaking her hips and huge boobs, having fun. He probably needs a girl like her right now. Someone fun. With big boobs.

“Everything okay?” Clark asks.

“I really wanted to win.” I take a sip of the punch and make a face. “Ew.” It’s warm and flat and awful. I glance around to see if there’s a trash can nearby.

“He’s a prize-stealing jerk all right.” Clark is watching Nick. “And not nearly good enough for you.” He puts an arm around my shoulder and takes the cup from my hand.

I don’t argue and I don’t wiggle away. Instead I leave his hand there, to see how it feels. I’m pretty sure it feels good.