Текст книги "I Love Him, I Love Him Not "

Автор книги: Ella Martin

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter Thirteen

A few hours after I’d called him, Jake came over straight from work and engulfed me in a hug as soon as I opened the front door. I relayed the details of the call and all the squicky emotions that came with hearing his voice again. It was barely a minute-long conversation, but it threw me into an emotional tailspin. I’d spent the last five years with no contact from my father. He didn’t even acknowledge birthdays or Christmas. And now he was back and acting like everything was wonderful.

Except it wasn’t.

“I think it’s great that you picked up,” he said. We were hanging out in my room. I was sitting up in bed with my back against the headboard while he rested his head in my lap and dangled his feet off the edge of the bed. He fiddled with my phone as he spoke. “And I’m glad you agreed to hang out with him.”

“It was easy to pretend he just doesn’t exist,” I said as I played with his hair. “So why? Why does he want to be a part of my life now?”

“Why not?”

I leaned my head back and sighed. “Because I’m an awful person.”

Jake rolled over. He propped himself up with his elbows and looked at me in earnest. “Do you really think that?”

“Sometimes.”

“You did what you had to do,” he said. “What did Dr. Brinkley call it? ‘Self-preservation’ or something?”

“Something like that.”

“And you were protecting your mom. No one can fault you.”

Except me, I added silently. “He told me he loved me,” I blurted after a pause.

Jake was quiet for a few seconds before he returned to his former position and continued scrolling through my phone. “There’s a lot about you to love.”

It doesn’t feel like it, I wanted to say, but I remained silent. My thoughts were all jumbled and unfocused anyway.

“Thanks again for coming over,” I said after a while. “I hope it wasn’t too hard to cancel whatever you were supposed to do.”

“It wasn’t anything I couldn’t reschedule.”

“I still appreciate it, though.” I wanted to ask if his newly canceled plans were with Clover, but I kept it to myself.

“Anything for you.” He tilted his head back to smile at me, and I grinned. This was Jake and me at our best, just the two of us hanging out. It was familiar, comfortable, even reassuring. Jake was my constant. I couldn’t imagine my world without him.

I cleared my throat. “I saw Clover at the Bookish Bean.” Maybe you can tell me what’s going on between you two, I added silently.

“Oh, yeah. She mentioned that when she came in. Said you were sketching something.” He tilted his head again. “How’re the posters coming?”

I made a face and shook my head. I wasn’t happy with the work I’d done, and the whole thing with my dad made it near-impossible to think about Chicago again.

“They’re better than you think they are,” he said with a chuckle.

I grumbled. “Maybe.”

The opening chords of “Can’t Get Enough of You, Baby” played from my phone’s tinny speaker.

“You downloaded one of your songs for me,” I said when Zack’s voice began singing.

Jake froze for half a second. “Kind of. You know this isn’t an original Ephemera song, right?”

“Yeah, duh.” Sometimes I felt like Jake didn’t give me much credit. “It was in that movie.”

He laughed. “That wasn’t the original either.”

“Do people even write their own songs anymore?”

“Of course,” he said. “But some bands are so focused on touring, they don’t have time to write, too.”

“Seems like it takes part of the fun out of it, though,” I said, frowning. “Like, they’re just showing off other people’s work.”

“Most bands start out doing covers.”

“That’s different.”

“And lots of musicians got their breaks writing for other artists. Like Neil Diamond and Carole King both wrote songs for the Monkees.”

“I’d probably find that fascinating if I knew who those people were.”

Jake snorted. “Yeah, probably.”

I craned my neck to see what he was doing. “You aren’t changing your ringtone, are you? I like the Beatles.”

“Just trying to switch things up,” he said. “I don’t want you to get too bored.”

Avril Lavigne blared from my phone, and he held it up for me. “Video call,” he said.

“It’s Ally,” I said. “I’ll bet she wants to dish about her big date with Hunter.” I tapped on my phone to accept the call and held it at arm’s length. “So?”

Jake covered his ears as she let out an ear-piercing shriek. “I am in total like!” she cried. “Hunter is an absolute dream.” She blinked a few times and squinted at the screen. “Are you on your phone?”

“This is where you called me,” I replied.

“Well, your arm’s going to fall asleep,” she said with a pout, “and I have to tell you everything.”

I fought back a smirk. “Hold on.” I looked up at Jake. “Can you do me a favor and grab my laptop?”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Jake.”

He handed me my computer and slid onto the bed beside me, his head touching mine so he’d be visible via the little camera on my phone. “Hey, Al.”

She looked equally stricken and amused. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Don’t be dumb,” I said with a flippant wave. “Hang on a sec. I can move this to my laptop.”

“Better idea.” She twirled a curl around her finger. “Why don’t you come over when you guys are done?” She laughed maniacally, almost as though she’d had way too much sugar and was more hyper than usual. And for Ally, that was saying a lot.

“You’re being weird,” I said at the same time Jake said, “Grow up.”

More laughter. I was close to ending the call when she calmed down and said, “I’m totally messing with you guys. Just come over whenever.”

“Okay.” I was wary because of the way she was acting, but I also wanted to be a good friend. I figured an hour or so wouldn’t kill me. “I’ll swing by in a few.” I ended the call and turned to Jake. We both shook our heads.

“At least I’m being spared the gory recap.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll share all the details with you later.”

“Oh, please don’t.”

I laughed, and he laced his fingers through mine. He rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb, tracing circles on my skin. I noted his thumb was the only finger on his right hand that wasn’t calloused. I rested my head on his shoulder with a contented sigh.

“Hey, I know I’ve been kind of cryptic about stuff lately, but I figured—”

Avril sang out from my phone again, cutting him off. I put a finger to his lips to silence him.

“Hold that thought,” I said before I sat up to answer the call. “Change of plans?”

“Kind of,” Ally said. “I texted Bianca, and she’s trapped at school with her parents watching some game against Xavier.”

“Are you asking me to pick her up on my way over?” I watched as Jake hunched over the side of my bed, reaching to tie his shoes.

“If you insist,” she said. “And can you help me with French? You’re way better at vocab than I am.”

“I haven’t even looked at homework.”

“Then you can do yours while you help me with mine.”

“We have a three-day weekend,” I said.

“You mean you have a three-day weekend. Riley gave the cast a ten o’clock call time Monday morning. I won’t be able to get any work done.”

“So much for MLK day,” I muttered.

“Anyway, I’m trying to get it all done early, and you might as well get it out of the way, too.”

Sometimes it was easier to go along with her. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll see you in a few.” I looked up at Jake as he put on his jacket by the door. “Don’t leave yet,” I said, scrambling to my feet. “What were you about to tell me?”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” He nodded to my backpack. “Go grab your stuff so I can walk out with you.”

“Okay,” I said, and a few minutes later, we were outside by his car. “You’re really going to leave me hanging?” I said as he unlocked his door.

“Just for a little bit longer,” he said. “As soon as I’m sure it’s something serious, I’ll tell you.”

I pouted. “I don’t like it when you’re all cryptic like this.”

He pulled me into a hug and said, “Have fun.”

His car disappeared out of view before I climbed into my own car. I was equal parts grateful to him and annoyed. Grateful because I wasn’t obsessing over my dad anymore, and annoyed because he’d just confirmed he’d been keeping something secret from me.

But that didn’t even irritate me as much as the sneaking suspicion Clover knew all about it.

Chapter Fourteen

“So, I’m holding the putter, right?” Ally was standing to demonstrate. “And he, like, stands behind me and corrects my grip and whatever, but then the windmill knocks my ball away, and he says something I don’t hear. So I turn and go, ‘What?’ and then he kissed me!”

My friends shrieked and clapped their hands. Ally jumped up and down as she did so, while Bianca bounced on the bed. I shook my head. I couldn’t understand how some guy could reduce her to a squealing, incoherent mess.

From my spot on the floor, I pulled my knees to my chest and leaned my head against the wall. “Who won?”

Ally looked puzzled. “Who won what?”

“Your mini golf game.”

“Clearly, Talia, you’re missing the point.” She let out an exasperated sigh.

Bianca giggled behind her hand. “I think it’s cute,” she said. “And it’s a great First Kiss story.”

Ally clasped her hands together and began dancing around the room, a dreamy smile lighting up her face.

I was happy for her. I really was. She’d wanted a boyfriend for about as long as I’d known her, and I hoped Hunter would treat her well. All the guys vouched for him, so I was certain he would. Still, not counting the time her beloved Pomeranian had to get put down when we were in middle school, I’d never seen Ally heartbroken before, and I didn’t want to.

“Are you going to ask him to the Sweetheart’s Dance?” I said.

She bit her lip. “I don’t know. Should I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Ally stomped her foot in frustration. “Because I don’t know what any of this means! Okay, so he kissed me. Does this mean we’re official? Or are we just kind of dating but not really together?” She sat beside Bianca and flopped backward onto her bed. “This is just so confusing.”

I looked at Bianca. “Did you have to go through this with Tim?”

She paused, as in thought. “I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “Well, I mean, not exactly. But he also told me he was in love with me before I kissed him, so I at least knew how he felt about me.”

Ally whimpered and covered her face. “Why are boys’ brains so complicated?”

I thought of Jake and his recent odd behavior, and I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

Bianca was more helpful. “If he kissed you, though, doesn’t that at least imply how he feels about you? I mean, I don’t know him or anything, but does Hunter seem like the type to randomly kiss someone without it meaning anything?”

That seemed to cheer Ally. She sat up, and their discussion shifted to what Ally should wear to the dance (“Of course he’ll go with you,” Bianca had assured her) and whether or not Bianca would go shopping with her to try on dresses. I tuned them out. I couldn’t help it; I had nothing to contribute. I’d have been more interested listening to Ally’s brothers talk about football. I eyed my backpack where I’d left it by the door and contemplated breaking out my homework while they chatted. It wasn’t until Ally tossed a pillow at me that I started paying attention again.

“What’s with you?” she said. “You’re mopier than usual.”

I tried to dodge the question. “Just some stuff.”

Bianca studied me for a second and frowned, concern etched in her brow. “Yeah, you’re hyper mopey. What’s going on, Talia?”

I hesitated. I may have been among my best friends, but there were plenty of things I’d never told them. I knew they’d heard the rumors about why my parents split up years ago. I’d never bothered to correct anyone, though. It was easier that way.

“My dad’s back,” I said at last. “Sort of.”

Ally froze. “The sperm donor?”

Bianca’s eyes were wide with horror. “Ally!”

“What? That’s what she calls him.”

“That doesn’t mean you should.”

“It’s fine,” I said with a wave of my hand. “I don’t care.”

“So what does that mean, anyway?” Ally said. “That he’s back, I mean.”

I sighed. “He wants to get together for some daddy-daughter time next week.” I stared at a spot on the other side of her room. “He was at my house when I came home from school Monday.”

“And you waited until now to tell us?” Ally glared at me. “And I thought you went to Jake’s right after school. Did I miss something? What’s going on here?”

“Look, it’s not a big deal,” I said, ignoring the rest of Ally’s questions. I hugged her pillow to my chest, trying to mask the guilt I felt for not mentioning it while we hung out that night. But I had other stuff on my mind, too. Like Jake and Clover. I shuddered.

“I wonder why he suddenly showed up,” Bianca mused aloud.

“My mom called him.” Their eyes widened, and I explained, “I guess getting remarried meant she had to renegotiate some divorce settlement things.”

“Renegotiate,” Ally repeated. She made a face. “That’s awful. Like you aren’t even human.”

“Ouch!” Bianca said as she elbowed her. “Harsh much?”

“No, she’s right.” I tucked my legs into a lotus position and rested my elbows on my knees. “It’s just weird. Like, he’s been out of my life for so long, you know? I don’t even know who he is anymore.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” Bianca said. “You know, to get to know each other again. I mean, none of us are the same people we were in fifth grade.”

Ally scoffed. “I should hope not.”

“Maybe,” I said, “but I’m not even sure I want to know him anymore.”

Neither of them said anything; they just watched me for a while. I cleared my throat. “Hunter seems decent,” I said. “I’m glad your date went well.”

Her face lit up. I’d said the right thing.

“Me, too,” she said, the dreamy smile back on her face. “And hey, if you ask Jake, then we can all go to the dance together!”

“Yeah, right.” I threw her pillow back at her. “Go back to your fantasy world, Katz. I like it here in my reality.”

“He would totally go with you,” she said.

I thought about telling them my suspicions about the amount of time he was spending with Clover but thought better of it. Ally would probably accuse me of being jealous, and that was the furthest thing from the truth. Thankfully, Bianca came to my rescue.

“Leave her alone,” Bianca said. “She’s got a lot going on as it is.”

I smiled, grateful to have someone on my side.

Chapter Fifteen

I spent most of the remainder of the three-day weekend working on my Chicago posters. Two were mostly done but still needed work, especially the Struzan-esque one I really liked, and I only had a few more days to get them right. That was why, in my European history class the following Tuesday, I was sketching in my notebook and only glancing up periodically as I listened to Mr. Jorgensen’s lecture.

“By now, all ships going to and from Great Britain were potential targets,” he said, moving his pointer so that it circled the northern Atlantic Ocean on the map projected onto the screen. “So you see, despite President Wilson’s attempts to stay neutral, the United States’s entry into the war was inevitable.”

Mr. Jorgensen was so engrossed in his lecture on the first World War, he didn’t notice that Mrs. Baker, the principal’s secretary, had entered the room until she stood behind him and cleared her throat. They spoke in hushed voices for a few moments. Mr. Jorgensen paled before he looked at me and said, “Talia, will you please go with Mrs. Baker to the front office?”

I blinked, surprised. I almost asked why I needed to go until I realized he’d called me by my first name, not “Miss Nicoletti.” I felt everyone watching me as I stood, ready to follow the stout woman to the front office. I couldn’t make out any of the whispered murmurs, but I knew my classmates were speculating what egregious violation I’d made to land me a trip to Mr. Hamilton’s office.

My history teacher cleared his throat. “You, er, might want to take your things.”

A few girls gasped, and someone near me snickered, but I didn’t look for the source. An oddly sympathetic look on Mr. Jorgensen’s face kept me from shooting him a nasty glare. Instead, I focused on getting out of the room as quickly as possible. I shoved everything into my backpack and flung it over my shoulder. After a quick nod to Jake and a few wiggled fingers at Bianca, I followed Mrs. Baker into the hallway.

The secretary gave me a sad smile but didn’t say anything as we made our way to the office. I mentally reviewed my activities at school that day. Other than my skunk stripe – now a bright tangerine color – I’d been a model student. I’d arrived early to school and turned in all my homework. I wasn’t even wearing combat boots, something I’d lamented during my morning trek to homeroom since my sneakers were doing little to keep my feet dry in the pouring rain.

I thought of my notebook, the one in which I’d been drawing during Mr. Jorgenson’s lecture, but surely that wasn’t enough to get me expelled.

“Did I do something wrong?” I asked the stout woman as we walked.

“Your mother is waiting for you in Mr. Hamilton’s office,” Mrs. Baker said, not answering my question. Her voice was quiet and strained, as if it pained her to speak any louder.

It was beyond weird. I wondered if she was always that emotional when she had to pull someone out of class.

She looked at me, inhaled sharply, and repeated, “Your mother is waiting for you.”

I was tempted to stop walking and demand answers from her. After all, if I was going to be kicked out of school, it’s not like it would’ve made much of a difference. But I quashed that urge and followed her up the broad stairs to the front office.

Just as Mrs. Baker had said, my mom was sitting with Mr. Hamilton in his office. Her eyes were puffy, and her usually flawless complexion was red and splotchy, as though most of her makeup had been washed off. I’d seen her enough times like this to know she’d been crying. It was unexpected. I’d always figured she’d be furious and raging if I was asked to leave her alma mater, not all weepy and emotional. I hesitated before I stepped into the room.

“Mom?”

She jumped up from her seat and raced toward me, arms outstretched. “Oh, Talia, honey!” She held me in a tight embrace, and her body heaved as she sobbed into my shoulder.

There was no way this was about me getting expelled.

“Mom, what happened?” I tried to wriggle free, but with the way she was clinging to me, I could barely move. “Is Dr. Griffin…?”

“I’m fine, Talia,” my stepfather said behind me. His voice was even, almost flat, and when I strained my neck to look at him, I noticed the lines on his face were more pronounced. He didn’t look angry, but there was an eerie stillness about him.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked once my mom loosened her grip.

Dr. Griffin turned to the principal. “Martin?”

Mr. Hamilton bobbed his head and moved to the open door. “Take your time.” He offered us an uncomfortable, tight-lipped smile before he left his office and shut the door behind him.

“Sit down, honey,” my mom said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. I sank into one of the leather seats but warily eyed them both, my senses on high alert. She crouched down so we were at the same level and took my hand in both of hers. After a deep breath, she said, “Talia, honey, your dad….” She tilted her head back, tears spilling from her eyes. I noticed there weren’t any traces of mascara as tears raced down her cheeks. She had been crying for a while.

“Is he demanding full custody of me?” I said, ready to jump to my feet. “Because I won’t go with him. I won’t!”

“No, no, sweetheart,” she said. “It’s nothing like that.” She took another deep breath. “He….” She hung her head. “I can’t, Rob. I can’t do it.” She dropped my hand, covered her face, and crumpled into a sobbing heap on the floor beside me.

I stared at her for a moment before I looked up at my stepfather. “Dr. Griffin? What’s going on?”

He knelt down to help up my mother and moved her to the chair beside me. After he handed her another tissue, he put his hand on her shoulder. “There was an accident,” he said. My mom whimpered but he continued. “It was a multi-vehicle collision on the 101 early this morning,” he said, referring to one of the freeways linking Playa del Lago and other North Valley communities to Los Angeles and its surrounding areas. “A semi jackknifed, blocking the eastbound lanes and precipitating a number of accidents.”

“Okay.” That seemed like a lot of random information.

“Eight people had to be airlifted to nearby hospitals.”

Mom let out a muffled sob, and he squeezed her shoulder.

“And my dad was one of them?”

Dr. Griffin paused before he shook his head. “As of now, Vince is the only fatality.”

I heard his words, but they didn’t connect. “You mean, he’s dead?” As soon as I said it, I knew it was a stupid question, but it was like my brain needed to hear those exact words to make sense of them.

He nodded. “The paramedics pronounced it at the scene.”

“Oh.” It was all I could think to say.

The whole thing was strange. I didn’t feel anything, but I knew I was supposed to. All I could muster was relief at not having to hang out with him next Saturday.

I watched my mother weeping softly into a soggy tissue. She hadn’t cried like that since before the divorce. Mom had remained stoic and unflappable since then, almost as though she’d closed a door on her feelings. And now her ex-husband – who let his pride and jealousy turn him into a cruel, raging monster – was dead, and whatever strength she’d demonstrated was suddenly gone.

Or maybe her strength had been a false front all along. Maybe there had been something more to my dad and their marriage than I knew or understood. Maybe her feelings for him never went away and had been there all along.

Whatever it was, I didn’t get it. She may have been crying over my father, but not me. I had no tears to shed. Not for someone who backhanded me and knocked me into a wall, all because I was trying to protect my mom.