Free Looking for Cassandra Jane (The Second Chances Novels) by Melody Carlson Page B

Joey stopped in for lunch occasionally—although usually not more than once a week, and even then he always ordered frugally, usually a grilled cheese sandwich and iced tea. Sometimes I teased him about being a tightwad, but he assured me he was simply doing his best to save up for college.
    “You saving for college?” I said as I refilled his iced tea (on the house, as long as Clint wasn’t looking). “You’re so smart, Joey, I’ll bet you’ll get all sorts of scholarship offers and things—they’ll probably pay you to go to school.”
    He chuckled. “Oh, I doubt that. But you, better than anyone, should know that you can’t always count your chickens before they hatch.”
    I laughed, remembering how my grandma used to say that to us whenever she’d catch us trying to calculate our weekly earnings from her little store, and she was usually right. “I suppose not.”
    “Are you looking forward to going to high school this fall?” he asked as he adjusted his black-rimmed glasses. I still couldn’t get used to the idea of Joey in glasses. It did make him look older and slightly intellectual, even if it was in a somewhat nerdish sort of way.
    “Yeah, but it kinda feels like I should’ve been there already.”
    He frowned. “Yeah, I guess dating all those older guys makes you feel pretty grown-up.”
    I could tell by his cynical tone that he didn’t approve of my personal life. And while an old, small part of me actually appreciated his concern, the larger, brassier, mouthier part felt judged and insulted. “Nothing’s wrong with me going out with older guys.”
    He shrugged. “I guess not. That is, if you don’t care what people think of you or your reputation.”
    The place was getting busier now and so I just rolled my eyes at him and strutted off to take the order at the next table. Still, his words burned like iodine in an open cut and I couldn’t shake them as I clipped the order onto the wheel and gave it a spin. Then suddenly, it occurred to me. Maybe he’s just jealous! Maybe he wishes he were one of those guys taking me out.
    From where I stood at the front counter, I glanced over to where he sat all alone at the little table, dressed in his usual neat white shirt and straight dark tie. Then I shook my head as I mentally tallied a tab. No way! Joey Divers was way too square and sensible to be interested in a wild thing like me. If Joey had a girlfriend (and for the life of me, I couldn’t imagine that he ever would, but if he did) she would probably be the type to wear a pleated skirt, not too short, matching knee socks, and shiny penny loafers—someone like Ali McGraw in Love Story. Not someone like me.
    Joey looked slightly sheepish when he came up to the cash register to pay his bill. “Cass, don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I still think you’re great. I just want you to be careful—watch out for yourself, you know?” He smiled apologetically, a small flush creeping into his cheeks.
    “I know, Joey. Thanks for caring.” I handed him his change and smiled in an overly bright way. “I’ll be just fine.”
    On Labor Day weekend, just days before school started back up, I learned (by eavesdropping on a conversation between a couple of high school teachers who’d come into the Dairy Maid for the “best burger deal”) that Joey Divers had been moved up another year! He would start school as a senior the following week—now two years ahead of me. Mrs. Sparks, an English teacher, said, “With Joey’s test scores, he could’ve gone straight on to college, but he opted to stick around Brookdale High another year.”
    “Probably due to that bad leg of his,” said Mr. Lawson, a science teacher who also coached football. “I’m sure that makes life tough for him.”
    I felt a sharp mixture of pride and disappointment. This meant Joey would only be around town for one more year. I wondered why I even cared, since our paths crossed so seldom these days. But for some reason I did.