Jason, where it always seemed to be lately.
M Y CELL buzzed in my pocket as I dumped my tray in the can. I looked around to make sure there were no teachers around before I fished it out. We weren’t supposed to have them during the day, and it would be a bitch if they took mine away. The New Message indicator flashed. It was Jason’s cell. Thank God .
Hey Tommy-Boy, I’ll meet you at your house after school. ;)
I typed out my reply quickly. Can’t. I’ve got w. practice. Where have you been?
Less than a second later, the phone buzzed again. Around. Plz, skip? I need you .
I had a meet tomorrow. The team was counting on me. But maybe I could tell Coach that I wasn’t feeling well. It might cost me my starter position, but that was all right. If Jason needed me, it would be worth it.
Fine. Meet you there . I hesitated before I messaged the next bit. I didn’t want to appear too clingy. I decided to say it anyway. You all right ?
Will be when I see you. : )
In my experience, the more emoticons someone used, the more they didn’t want you to know what they were really saying. That was okay. A few more hours and I would be with my boyfriend, and I would make whatever was wrong with him better. Maybe I could even convince him to stay home or go to Kevin’s or something. Too late I remembered the fact that I didn’t have my car.
I scrolled through my contacts until I found what I needed. Hey Kev, can you give me a ride to my house after school? J is meeting me there .
He okay ?
Don’t know. He seems off but idk .
Don’t have sex with him .
That gave me pause. What the hell kind of advice was that? He was my boyfriend, and if we wanted to, no one, Kevin included, would stop us. It brought me back to the thought I’d had over the weekend. Maybe we shouldn’t wait. Maybe that was what we needed to take things to the next level. My body was certainly keen on the idea. Jason was gorgeous, and he knew it. His deep green eyes and pretty, plush lips beckoned anything with a pulse. He was a sexual creature, and I was seventeen. If everyone could give me the excuse of teenage hormones, I could give myself the same excuse. Jason had asked me to wait, and I had respected him. But if he changed his mind, I would oblige him.
I didn’t reply to Kevin’s message. I figured I didn’t need to. Besides that, I had arrived at my classroom, and if Mrs. Fox saw me with my cellphone in my hand, she would give my ass detention, and that was something I couldn’t afford today.
K EVIN didn’t mention anything about his message when he met me in the quad after class. I had decided in sixth period that Nathanial Hawthorne was a long-winded prick for writing The Scarlet Letter and torturing generations of students with its tedium. Everything he said could’ve been said in about ten pages minus all his stupid nine-page descriptions of the rose petals and curtains. I still had no idea what was going on in my seventh period Spanish class, and I made a mental note to ask Uncle Charlie, who spoke Spanish and French fluently, to help me with my homework. Coach had seemed disappointed when I’d swung by his room to tell him I wasn’t coming to the last practice before our meet, but he let it slide since I hardly ever missed and just told me to feel better.
Kevin and I walked silently to the jammed parking lot where his ’69 red Corvette sat off to the side, away from most of the regular cars in an effort to protect it. Angelina’s electric blue VW convertible bug was parked beside it.
“When you see him, tell him to call me,” Kevin commanded, unlocking the driver’s side door before crawling in and unlocking my door.
“I will,” I promised. “You could come in and see him, you know.”
He shook his head. “He doesn’t want me. He called you. He’s avoiding me because he knows I’ll kick his ass for leaving something good for whatever dumbass reason he’s come up with. So I’m relying on you to