Secondary Characters (9 page)

He’s totally into himself. That much is clear.

I try to hide my sour expression as Justin nears. Marissa will kill me if I scare him away. I hide behind my magazine. Although I hate his ego, I’m not immune to his washboard abs. I refuse to let my lingering eyes betray me.

“Justin, hey!” Marissa calls as she tosses her bangs out of her eyes. “How’s your Dad’s campaign going? It’s going to be such a gift to Minnesota when he’s our governor.”

“Yeah, that’s the hope.” Justin’s signature chuckle rolls from his lips.

Marissa giggles. “So, are you going to Watson’s party tonight?”

His hand returns to his head, fingers tracing through his hair, creating the perfect tousle of curls. God, he just can’t get enough. He leans in, placing his foot onto his lounger. “Hmm, well, it’s the place to be tonight, right?” He offers a crooked smile, pouring charm all over her.

“Of course it is. I’ll be there,” Marissa says in a low, sultry voice. She sucks in her stomach, leaning toward him with perfectly batted eyelashes. She’s skipped to stage three of flirting. We developed the stages this year over winter break while I crashed at her place. There’s no way I could spend that much time at home.

“Well then, you can count me in.” Justin says as he nods at me and I return it slightly as I focus on the wrinkled water stains on the magazine. Move on, dude.

A brief laugh escapes him as he pulls his leg off of Marissa’s lounger, strutting to his next group of admirers.

Good. Be gone.

Marissa squeals to herself and I hold in my sigh. I feel a bit sorry for her. Justin going to the party has nothing to do with her being there. He’s already dating the most perfect girl in school. Not that that matters to Marissa. If anything, it encourages her.

Justin climbs up the back of the lifeguard stand, planting a kiss on the cheek of a beautiful blond. She laughs as she pretends to shove him off before she climbs down. He steps aside as her replacement climbs up, wrapping his hand around hers before finding a table in the shade.

“Ugh. What does he see in Jennifer?”Marissa turns over to her stomach, pulling her sunglasses down, watching Justin and Jennifer. She rises as he tilts his head down, their foreheads touch and then they exchange a brief kiss.

“But that’s not enough to keep a guy going for a whole year. They just don’t seem right together, you know?”

Jennifer tilts her head back as Justin launches a grape into her mouth. Marissa’s right. They don’t seem right. They’re perfect.

“Gag me now.” Marissa pinches my leg, demanding my attention. “She acts like she owns him. He needs someone less controlling, less high maintenance.”

“Like?” I tease. She claims they kissed once, back in middle school. But I can’t picture them in a dark closet together. Doesn’t compute.

“Me, of course.” She answers too seriously. “This summer, I’m going to show Justin just how much he’s missing. Come August, he’s mine.”

I cringe. Marissa always gets what she wants.

Justin wraps his arms around Jennifer in a bear hug.

My heart twists. Whatever plan Marissa has concocted is sure to ruin them. But really, should I care?

I plaster a smile on my face. “You two would be great together.” Exactly what she wants to hear. I owe her at least that much.

Marissa pulled me out of the janitor’s closet last year. It was cleaner to eat lunch there than have food thrown at me in the lunch room. And safer. The seniors never found me there. But Marissa did. She turned my life around. I trusted her. I still do. With Marissa, people actually talk to me. They have no idea I was
that freshman girl
the seniors hated. I could breathe again.

“Lucy, Lucy!” Marissa pulls the magazine out from under my nose. “I’m gonna wear my new capris with that cute canary tunic. You wear that green sundress I picked out for you. That way we can coordinate in all the photos.” She opens her hobo bag and pulls out her Nikon, taking a quick shot of me before I can protest. Then she hands the camera over. I click away as she pushes out her lips for the shot. “You know that green dress will drive Zach totally wild.”

My stomach flutters and my lips curl into my goofy grin.

Zach. My new boyfriend. He's an outgoing, uncomplicated jock who’s an amazing kisser. My stomach’s still doing flips after my first kiss and however many more we fit in during the last forty-three minutes of the new
Scarn
movie. The smell of his cologne clings to my shirt at home. I can’t bring myself to wash it.

Marissa pokes me, “Oh, sweet. His name makes you blush.”

A super girly giggle escapes my lips. “Did I tell you we’re going to dinner before the party?” I try to sound mature as I check my phone. Almost time to get ready.

Marissa squeals. “No! Oh my god. How can you keep this from me? Where are you going? What will you talk about?”

“Romano’s.” Zach loves Italian.

“Oh, perfect. Sit in the back corner. That’s where the most romantic lighting is.”

I nod, imagining Zach and me in the Lady and the Tramp spaghetti scene as I grab my bag from under my lounger.

“Where’re ya going?” she asks, rechecking the time on her phone.

“He’s picking me up here. I’m getting ready in the locker room.”

Marissa nods, picking up on my subtext. “Good plan. Avoid your Mom. God that must be so tough … ”

I bite the inside of my cheek. The day Mom met Zach she took him on a tour of her therapy garden where she educated him in the art of compost. She actually put garbage and worms in his hands. When we left, he didn’t waste any time saying “Your mom’s a freak.” I can’t argue with that.

Marissa steps out in front of me. She isn’t one to sunbathe alone. “This is actually great. Now I have time to set my hair in curlers before the party. Tonight’s going to be amazing.” She glances at Justin, lifting her eyebrows mischievously. “Watch out, Justin Marshall. Here I come.”

I say nothing. She waves her hands while pushing me forward. “Get moving, woman. We’ve got men to impress. See you tonight.” She says in a cute voice that carries well over water. She walks with a precise sway, a light bounce which sets every part of her bikini into hypnotic motion. Guys’ heads follow her the entire way.

Marissa, a master in the art of attraction.

***

The country club’s locker room makes me nervous. I shimmy off the wet suit bottoms over my hips. My hand automatically avoids the dark purple scar that rests below. The locker handles mock me. It’s like they share secrets with the ones back at school.

I slip on some blue lace underwear and take my time getting ready, avoiding the locker handles with each move. I focus on adhering to Marissa’s sparkle makeup guidelines as I think about Zach’s biceps and his laugh. My tummy flips and I feel queasy, but I’ve heard that’s normal for a first, fancy dinner date. Right? Right.

I fight to get into my skin-tight dark jeans, which I pair with a white, razor-back tank with random clear sequin embellishments. The color pop? My red, open-toed heels. God bless Marissa for making me buy them.

My fingers twirl my auburn hair. Hopefully, it’ll dry in waves. I tug on my tank top, adjusting it over my curves. My shape’s not perfect but, like Marissa says, I have “something to work with.”

My butt’s not awful but my boobs are too big. I hate them. Marissa’s certain I’d look thinner without them. She convinced me to ask my parents for a breast reduction as a sweet-sixteen present. Mom nearly died when I asked. In fact, she yelled so much I thought she would.

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the memory. That was not a fun fight. Mom will never understand that being curvy is no longer fashionable. Instead, she rants about culture and societal flaws. When I asked about the reduction, she started in on the MTV Music Awards and I foolishly rolled my eyes. All of my magazines ended up in the fireplace that night. They were “poisoning my body image.” So I rebelled, buying three-year subscriptions of
People
and
US Weekly
.

Take that, Mom.

I adjust my jeans and add a black belt, hoping Zach will like it. My cell phone flashes five past six. Fashionably five minutes late, as recommended in the latest
Elle
magazine. The Minnesota humidity makes my hair frizz the moment I step out of the locker room. Why do I even try? I search for Zach’s truck, hoping he won’t notice my funky hair.

But it’s not there. He must be caught in traffic. I sit on the bench and wait.

And I wait.

A long time.

My cell displays 6:37. Maybe work is keeping him?
The Fireside Bowling Alley often has a dinner rush. I check my phone, but no calls. I text him.

Me: I’m sure Fireside is busy. Take your time.

I really can wait. I have nowhere to go until the party.

I close my eyes and tilt my head back, enjoying the cooler evening sun on my face and praying it will calm my frizz. I hold my cell, waiting for it to vibrate with his response. As the minutes pass, I toy with the idea that maybe he forgot …

But he planned this. He wouldn’t do that.

A light laugh interrupts me. My eyes jolt open and I gasp. I hate how easily I startle.

“Sorry lady,” says a deep, smooth voice behind me. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You just look so funny all dressed up but relaxing in the sun.”

“Oh, it’s ok.” Great. I pull at the bottom of my white tank. I look funny.

He clears his throat, waiting for me to do the social thing. Interact.

Not in the mood. Not now. The dent in my phone demands study. If I turn the phone upside down, the dent looks like a cow. I shift, making sure my back faces the voice. Maybe he’ll take a hint? My bench creaks with newly added weight.

Nope.

“So?” he says.

I force myself to glance up. My throat closes. Marissa would freak.

Justin stares back with that fake smile. “Who are you waiting for?”

“My boyfriend, Zach Filman.” Confidence, yes.

Justin nods, “Oh, Zach.” He looks at his watch and snickers. “I bet he’s late, huh?” His eyebrow flicks up with his smile.

“No. I’m a bit early.”

“You’re lying.” He moves closer to me.

Shaking my head, I focus on the lined pavement. The lines aren’t parallel at all. I really suck at lying, but the most popular guy in school doesn’t need to know my boyfriend’s late.

“Well, then,” he continues. “I’ll just wait here with you. You don’t mind.”

I do.

He taps his finger on the bench’s armrest. “Shouldn’t be long now.” His voice is thick with sarcasm which he pairs with his flashy, stupid smile. Justin may be gorgeous but he is super annoying. He clears his throat, “Might as well get to know one another. I’m Justin Marshall.”

No kidding.

“I’m Lucy.” He doesn’t need to know my last name.

“Well, Lucy.” He pulls out his phone. “It’s 6:52. When’re ya going on that date?”

“For real?” The heat from the sun must’ve fried my brain-to-mouth filter.

He claps his hands together, leaning back, enjoying my outburst. “Well, I’m bored. Jennifer doesn’t get off for another twenty minutes. I need a little fun.”

“Well, in that case, I’m pleased to entertain you.” Sarcasm rolls thick off my tongue.

“Wonderful.” His hands fold behind his head and his muscles twitch. But I’m steady, not a flinch and not even close to his regular swoon.

“So, where’re you love birds going?” he continues.

“Romano’s.”

“Right, Italian food. How romantic. Very original, Zach.”

Blood rushes to my face. I don’t care if it is the typical place. This is my first fancy, romantic date and it’s going to be perfect. I glare back, replying with silence.

“Ok, ok.” He throws his hands up. “It’s a good place. Great food, actually.”

I ignore him, glancing back at my phone. An hour late. Maybe he got in an accident?

“Can I ask you two questions?” Justin prods.

“No.” My filter’s gone now. He’s beyond irritating. Just because everyone worships him doesn’t mean he gets to know everyone’s business. Of course, he ignores my answer.

“First, why are you being picked up for a date here?”

I answer without thinking. “Zach thinks my mom’s weird.” My tongue thickens, making it hard to speak. Crap, shouldn’t have said that.

“Oh? Should that matter if he’s dating you?” He clears his throat. “I mean, shouldn’t he want to get to know her if he’s dating you?”

He looks at me with a soft expression, like the ones people use on injured puppies on those Emergency Vet shows.

I press my lips together. He doesn’t know my mom. This time he accepts my silence.

“Secondly, don’t you think you deserve someone who respects you enough to either show up on time or at least call and let you know why he’s late?”

Whoa, who is he to give me relationship advice?

“You’ve got to be kidding, right?”

“No. I’m dead serious. You deserve better.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“No, but I know Zach.”

“So do I. He’s my boyfriend.” I refuse to look at him, instead watching a group of ants pour out of a crack in the pavement. “You know you’re a real jerk, right?” I add.

Justin lets out a long whistle. “Wow. I haven’t been called a jerk since I was, like, eight?”

I don’t care how hot he is. Why Marissa wants him blows my mind.

He pulls out his phone. “Let me show you something.” He dials and flashes me his outgoing call: Zach F.

No. This is not happening
.

I launch at his phone but he’s too quick. He jumps off the bench and I eat pavement.

“It doesn’t matter. He isn’t going to answ—” I say as I scramble up off the ground.

“Hello?” a familiar booms. Speaker phone. Crap.

“Hey Zach! It’s Justin.”

“Hey Man. What’s up?” My gut relaxes. Zach’s ok.

“Not much. Just waiting to pick up Jennifer.” Justin paces, circling the bench and me.

“Right on, man!” Zach is always so positive. Zach’s attitude is contagious. I can’t help but smile when I’m around him.

“What are you up to?”

“Disc golf with Tater.”

My chest squeezes. How can Zach be playing a game with his cousin Tater? An I-Told-You-So expression sits in triumph on Justin’s face.