Trouble From the Start

  “See you tomorrow,” he said before heading for his car.

  Unable to tear my gaze from Fletcher, I ambled slowly across the distance separating us, wishing that my heart didn’t start pounding like a bass drum. Why did I have to be so aware of him?

  “What are you doing here?” I asked when I was near enough that I wouldn’t have to shout.

  “Wanted to let you know it’s fixed.” Holding a package of peanuts, he poured some into his palm and popped them into his mouth.

  His words made no sense. I studied him, studied my car. Had it broken down somehow without my knowing? “What’s fixed? Trooper?”

  Fletcher grinned slightly, at my car’s name, I guessed. “No, the rumor. I talked to Scooter, a few of the other guys who were in on the bet. Straightened things out. Or at least it’s starting to be straightened out.” More peanuts, a sip of soda.

  I was near enough now to make out the plastic bag flattened by his leg as well as the assortment of nuts, pastries, and candies spread over it. “What is all that?”

  He shrugged. “I got hungry waiting for you. Went to the convenience store, grabbed a few things.”

  “How did you know where I was?”

  “There’s always tutoring sessions the week of finals. I saw on the list outside the room how late you’d be, so I just decided to wait.” He held up a cupcake. “Want to join me?”

  I glanced around. Only one other car now. They’d be locking up the parking lot soon. I should go. Instead I put my foot on the bumper. Fletcher held out his hand. I slipped mine into it and his fingers closed around it. I felt the strain of his muscles as he pulled me onto the hood. I settled beside him, took the cupcake, bit into it, and hit the creamy filling right off the bat. So good. I licked my lips, turned to find Fletcher staring at me like he’d never seen me before. “You okay?”

  “Yeah . . . uh, you really like cupcakes.”

  “Oh my God, did I groan when I took a bite?”

  “It was more like a moan.”

  “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay.” Taking another sip of his drink, he turned his attention to the sky. It was almost dark now but the lights in the parking lot had come on so we couldn’t really see the stars.

  “I’m going to miss school,” I said quietly.

  “I won’t.”

  Unlike with Rajesh, Fletcher and I had nothing in common. We were silent for a while. “Why did you sign up for tutoring sessions if you weren’t going to come?” I finally asked.

  “I didn’t. Old man Turner signed me up for them. Didn’t think it was any of his business.”

  “He’s your math teacher. He was trying to help. He wouldn’t have signed you up if he hadn’t thought you’d benefit from some extra study.”

  “You can’t make a person learn what they don’t want to learn. I mean, really, when am I ever going to plot the roots or, or . . . complete the square or factor an equation?”

  He had a point. “A lot of it is brain exercise, figuring things out.”

  “You like that kind of stuff.” He said it like a statement, not a question.

  “I enjoy the mental challenge, yes.”

  He finished off his peanuts, wadded up the empty package. I expected him to toss it onto the ground. Instead he slipped it into the flattened bag. “I saw you tutoring Brian,” he said quietly. “You like tutoring.”

  “I do, yeah. I love that moment when I’m explaining something and the person finally gets it. It’s like magic, like seeing a shooting star or a rainbow, this sense of wonder, not really knowing how it happened. Just knowing that it did.” I laughed. “God, I sound like a dork.”

  I glanced over to find him watching me again, so intently that I was having a difficult time drawing in breath. He probably thought I was a total idiot, although he seemed fascinated. Still, I needed to put a little distance between us, so I sat up and wrapped my arms around my drawn-up knees. “You’re tall. Why didn’t you go out for the basketball team?”

  “Being in sports takes too much time. You know, practice and games. Coaches have expectations.”

  “You might have gotten a scholarship.”

  “Do I strike you as someone going to college?”

  Looking back over my shoulder, I grinned at him. “That’s right. I forgot. You’re getting a haircut.”

  He laughed. “That’s right.” He sobered. “You’re tall. Why didn’t you play?”

  “Would have meant a lot of time away from studying. Grades mattered more to me.”

  I heard the putter of a golf cart: the custodian trolling the grounds. He came to a stop in front of my car. “You kids need to leave now,” he said.

  “Yes, sir.” I slid off the hood, not surprised that Fletcher was a little slower at it. He really didn’t seem to like being ordered around by adults. I wondered how long it would be before he’d had enough of my dad.

  The custodian moved on. I unlocked my car. “I’ll take the trash.”

  He held the bag out to me. I took it but he didn’t let go. We were both just standing there holding this stupid crumpled plastic filled with garbage, and yet I felt like something else was happening. I just wasn’t sure what it was.

  He leaned in slightly. “You ever think about doing something you shouldn’t?”

  “You mean like telling my parents I’m going to one party—that has chaperones—and then going to one that doesn’t? Or drinking until I puke?”

  “You do that a lot? Tell your parents one thing, then do something else?”

  I released a big sigh, not sure why it bothered me that he would be disappointed. I didn’t live my life to impress Fletcher Thomas. “No.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Yeah, because it worked out so well when I did.”

  “Learning curve. You should know all about those, Einstein.”

  I didn’t know why it didn’t sting when he called me that this time. I knew he was mocking my intelligence—or I thought he was. Although the way the word rolled off his tongue didn’t really sound like a put-down. It almost sounded like a compliment.

  Before I could examine it further, he let go of the bag. “I’ll follow you home.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  He gave me a crooked grin. “I’m going that way.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

  I got into the car, started it up, and headed out. It was strange, but I’d never thought I could develop a friendship with someone who constantly broke the rules, someone like Fletcher. But whenever we talked, I could almost forget that he lived for trouble, and that I didn’t. I could almost believe that we might become friends.

  “You just talked?” Kendall asked.

  Shortly after I got home, I walked over to her house. Now I was stretched out on her bed, a mound of pillows at my back, while she sat in a chair, tilted back, her feet on the desk. Her room looked a lot like mine. The summer before we started high school, we’d painted our rooms a light purple with one dark purple wall and bought the same white comforters and curtains. We had the same bulletin board, the same lamps. If we could have convinced our parents to buy us new furniture, we would have had that matching as well. I couldn’t remember now why we’d decided that we had to have everything exactly the same.

  “Just talked,” I repeated.

  “That is so weird,” she said. “I heard Fletcher never just talks with girls.”

  “I can’t decide if I should be hurt or feel special because he only talks with me,” I admitted.

  “Feel special, of course. Because you are.”

  I smiled. “You are a true best friend to say that.”

  “I mean it. You don’t want a guy to kiss you just to kiss you. You want it to mean something. Kisses don’t mean anything to Fletcher. He hands them out like they’re candy on Halloween.”

  Licking my lips, I could still taste the sweetness of the cupcake. I sat up and folded my legs beneath me. “Do we really know that?”

  It bothered
me to think of Fletcher going after girls’ lips simply because he was sexy and could. “What if it’s all just a rumor, like the one going around about me sleeping with him? People know the kind of person I am, and yet they believed I’d do something that was totally unlike me.”

  “But people have seen Fletcher with girls. And we’ve seen the evidence of the fights he gets into. I’m pretty sure anything we’ve heard about him is true. But why do you care? You’re not starting to like him, are you?”

  “He’s just a little different than I thought.”

  “Yeah, because your dad is riding his ass.”

  Was that it? Was he toning down his bad boy image because of my dad? Why did I want him to be doing it because of me?

  “I sure would like to know what Fletcher did,” she said, giving me a speculative look. “I bet it was bad.”

  “He killed someone,” I deadpanned.

  Kendall jerked upright and dropped her feet to the floor. “Get out!”

  I laughed at her reaction, then sobered with the realization that she’d actually thought he was capable of something like that. “Of course he didn’t. And whatever he did couldn’t have been too bad or Dad wouldn’t let him live with us.”

  She scowled. “Then why did you say that?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ve become fascinated with how easily people believe things.” And bothered by it.

  “Well, at least the rumors about you are going to stop,” she said.

  As soon as I’d walked into her room, I’d told her that Fletcher was taking care of that problem.

  “So you can go to the party at the beach with Jeremy and me Saturday night. You won’t get hassled.”

  A lot of kids were heading to the beach after the ceremony to celebrate that we were finally done. I didn’t want to go by myself but I didn’t want to be a tagalong either. “I don’t know.”

  Kendall gave me a pointed look. “You are not staying home the night we graduate.”

  “There are other parties.”

  “Which one do you want to go to? We don’t have to go to the beach.”

  I loved that she included me in things she did with Jeremy, but it was difficult to see her cuddling with him while I was standing there wishing someone would snuggle against me like that. But I didn’t want to hurt her feelings or make her feel that since she was with Jeremy I didn’t want to be around her. She’d tried so hard not to let him come between us. Friends always came first, she said. Still, there had been a shift in our relationship. I just didn’t know how to explain it.

  “Let’s do the beach,” I said. Surely I could find someone there to hang out with.

  “Great. It’s going to be a blast.” She leaned forward slightly. “We’re going to find someone for you.”

  I knew she meant to be encouraging, but I felt like the girl destined to be the bridesmaid and never the bride.

  She tapped her chemistry book. “Now I have to study a little more before Jeremy comes over for some smooch time.”

  “Okay, see you tomorrow.” I got off the bed and headed for the door. I’d almost reached it when she called out to me. I stopped and looked back.

  “Fletcher’s an idiot for not kissing you,” she said.

  I wanted to believe her, but I had a feeling that I was the idiot for wishing he would.

  Chapter 12

  FLETCHER

  I almost did it again. I almost kissed Avery last night when we were sitting on the hood of her car. And I wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t beautiful. She wasn’t really even pretty. But she did have a fascinating face—the way it lit up when she talked about something she was passionate about. And she was passionate about so many things.

  As I strolled down the hallway the next morning, I found it difficult to believe that all we’d done last night was talk. I wasn’t used to talking to girls for an extended length of time without working in a kiss or two. Maybe that was the reason I almost kissed her: habit.

  I reached my locker and banged my fist on it. That was an insult to her. Habit had nothing to do with it. I knew that. I liked talking with her. I liked the way she smelled. Strawberries. I thought maybe it was her shampoo. What was I doing noticing her shampoo?

  Even worse: Sometimes I dreamed about her. I didn’t worry about the dreams when I was asleep because I can’t control my subconscious. But I dreamed about her when I was awake, especially when I was in class and my mind would start to wander. I seemed to have no control over that and it bothered me big-time. I was wrong for her in every way imaginable. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. And I was no genius.

  I spun the combination, freed the lock, and opened my locker. I stared at the algebra book angled there. I had to pass this stupid class. I needed this worthless credit to graduate. I’d never gone to a tutoring session because the idea of needing a tutor made me feel stupid. But the guy Avery had been tutoring hadn’t looked as though he’d felt stupid as she leaned in and explained the material. As he’d been working the problem, he’d begun to look triumphant. Leaving the textbook where it was, I slammed the locker closed. Was there any point in even taking the exam?

  “Hey, Fletcher.”

  Recognizing Morgan Anderson’s sexy voice, I erased the frustration from my face and turned around. “Hey, Morgan.”

  She stepped forward, and I leaned back against my locker. Flattening her palms against my chest, she moved in a little closer. I placed my hands on her waist. We’d spent a little bit of time together, usually when she was in between boyfriends. I liked her. She was fun. I never had to wonder what it might be like to kiss her, because she was pretty free with her kisses.

  “What are you doing Saturday night to celebrate graduating?” she asked.

  I was trying not to think about graduation, what it would mean for everyone else, what it would mean for me. “Haven’t decided.”

  “Scooter is having another party at the lake house—course his parents will be hanging around this time but there are lots of dark places.” She bit her lower lip. “If you’re there, maybe we can get together, since Biff is being a dumbass.”

  I took a few strands of her mahogany hair, tucked them behind her ear, and grinned. “So, you’re not with him now, then?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then I think you can pretty much count on me being there.”

  “Great.” She slid her hands around my neck, rose up on her toes, and gave me a quick kiss. “I can’t wait.”

  “Me either.”

  She lowered herself to the ground, her eyes—an unnatural green because of her contacts—sparkling with mischief. “Want to hear something really funny?”

  “Sure.” I could use something to lighten my mood before my math exam. Although knowing I’d be seeing her Saturday night helped.

  “There’s a rumor going around that you hooked up with Beanpole at Scooter’s party.”

  Everything within me went still and tense at the same time. “Beanpole?”

  “Yeah, you know. Avery Watkins. Tall, skinny chick. Really smart. I’ve been telling people it’s not true.”

  Which was what I wanted, I wanted people to know the rumors weren’t true. Avery wanted people to know, but Morgan was insulting her in the process. I didn’t appreciate it. “She’s not a beanpole,” I said.

  “She’s almost as tall as you are. And she’s skinny.”

  “She’s slender.”

  Morgan narrowed her eyes. “Did you hook up with her?”

  It was strange, but I thought it would actually do Avery’s reputation some good if I could answer yes. If I said no, Morgan was going to think I didn’t find Avery attractive. My thoughts hit a brick wall. Did I find Avery attractive? If I didn’t, I wouldn’t keep thinking about kissing her. “I gave her a ride home.”

  “Oh.” Her hands slid away. “She doesn’t really strike me as your type.”

  I almost explained that nothing happened, but I was afraid Morgan would twist it around and find a way to use it to hurt Av
ery. I realized Avery would never do something like that, would never deliberately hurt someone. I had a feeling Morgan might, although I didn’t know for sure because we never really talked. “I like Avery,” I admitted.

  “Isn’t she a little too smart for you?”

  Okay, that hurt, although I had no one to blame except myself for my grades. They weren’t stellar and until that moment I hadn’t really cared. As long as they were good enough to get me the hell out of high school I was happy. But I was more bothered because Morgan seemed determined to put Avery down. “Yeah, she is, but you know what? Smart is pretty sexy.” I dropped my hands from her waist. “I’m probably not going to Scooter’s Saturday after all.”

  “Your loss.”

  Somehow I doubted that. Morgan turned on her heel and marched down the hallway as I tried to figure out why I’d ever liked her in the first place. The bell rang, signaling that we had ten minutes to get to class. I opened my locker, grabbed my algebra book, and wondered why I thought I’d just made things worse for Avery.

  Chapter 13

  AVERY

  “I hate this hair,” Kendall said as she released the clip holding her curly red hair in place. She gathered it all up and reclipped it. “Wish I had yours.”

  We had a few minutes before our first class. Staring in the bathroom mirror as I brushed my long straight strands, I couldn’t help but think how funny it was. No matter what conditioner or shampoo I used, my hair never had any body. I’d give anything to have hers. “Trust me, I can’t do anything with it except let it hang or pull it back.”

  “Maybe we should do something radical,” she said. “Get it all cut off.”

  “Maybe,” I responded slowly, my attention caught by Morgan Anderson’s reflection in the mirror. She was staring at me like she was auditioning for the role of a ghoul in a horror movie. I turned to face her. “You got a problem?”

  “You.”

  “Yeah, I kinda figured that out, the way you were glaring at me.”

  Kendall stepped up beside me. For all of her five feet four inches, she could be intimidating when she wanted to be. “You have a problem with her, you have a problem with me,” she said. I was a little surprised she didn’t then shout, “Bring it on!” Although I truly appreciated her loyalty.