Castles on the Sand

Five

I don't see Jean-Pierre until lunch, and he looks past me as if we don't even know each other. It couldn't hurt worse if he walked up and slapped me across the face. He and the football jocks have their own table and they sit and talk and give each other fist bumps as the rest of the school flows around them, watching their antics with a swish of heads turning. We don't have a great athletics program at Pelican Bluffs High, but we do have an amazing football team. It helps that Justin Kreig's dad used to play for the NFL. Jean-Pierre doesn't do any athletics, but I guess the other orchestra and chess club people aren't cool enough for him.

His gaze wanders my direction and I freeze, wondering if I'll get a wink or a smile. But his gaze sweeps right over me. I'm just another face in the crowd. At least I didn't ask Kailie if she knew his phone number. She'd be mocking me right now if she knew. The problem is, I can't just pretend not to notice him, his dark, expressive eyes and infectious laugh. I've liked him for ages, but after kissing him, my attraction's stepped up several notches. I had let myself believe that I might get to kiss him regularly. That's how this usually works, isn't it?

I turn away and try to distract myself with other thoughts. Our cafeteria is a beautiful room. One whole wall is glass, but it's done in little tiny panes, like stained glass without the color. The ceiling is high and punctuated at regular intervals with skylights. The place always smells like grease, regardless of what they're serving. Even when it's pasta, somehow it ends up smelling like grease.

Kailie brings her tray of food over and slides it onto the table. “This food is beyond gross. I know, I know, I should just pack a lunch. Augh.”

I offer her half my sandwich, which she takes and gives me her tater tots in return. They’re already getting cold and disgusting, but I munch on them anyway.

Jean-Pierre's laughter cuts across the rest of the cafeteria chatter and I look at my friend.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“Well, don't look now, but Carson is staring at you.”

I look, of course. It's a reflex, but I swing my gaze past him so that I don't seem to be looking at him specifically. Just taking in more of that beautiful window, I think. Who am I fooling? Kailie is right, though, he's staring right at me, not even trying to hide it.

“He found out you're Mormon, now he wants to add you to the harem,” says my friend.

“I am not Mormon.”

“But you're okay with the harem part?”

Here's how things work with our small horde of Mormons at the school. Carson is the only male. There are three girls who aren't related to him: LaDell, Wendy, and Rachel, and he has them on some kind of rotation. They take turns going with him to school dances, and the two girls without him as a date and his little sister, Chelsey, either go stag or don't go at all. It's beyond weird, and Kailie loves to joke about it.

“He's coming over.” Kailie shoots a withering look over my shoulder, and I know if that doesn't stop him dead in his tracks, nothing will. My best friend's looks are lethal.

Like a shadow in my peripheral vision, Carson steps over the bench and sits at our table. “Hey,” he says.

I turn and smile at him. “Hey.”

“So, did anything else happen with your brother?”

“No, not really. I haven't even gotten an email from him.” His email address is buried somewhere in my pockets full of paper scraps, receipts, and used tissues. It'd take a while for me to find it.