What You're Not | ✔

18. Jealous

"Basketball is the more popular sport here," Riley explain to me. "Which means a bigger crowd."

"And with new uniforms maybe we might get a little attention as well," Jem added.

Taking all of it in at once was making my head spin. It was too early in the morning for all of this. "How fast, exactly?"

"Basketball starts in January," Riley told me.

January? That was three months away. I had to create a collection of clothes that people would actually want to buy in only three months?

That wasn't even the scariest part. The worst part was going to be finishing the clothes and setting everything up only to have it completely bomb because I had no real talent. What was I thinking when I agreed to that again?

Oh, right. Boys. At least I'd get what I wanted. I'd be buried in fabric swatches, zippers and buttons to even think about—

My spiraling thoughts were cut short when a cold finger poked my cheek. I blinked a few time, stepping back into reality. "And she's back," Kimber giggled.

"You looked like your brain was caving in," Riley described, giving me a concerned look.

"If you're spooked about the short time frame, don't be," Jem said, nudging me a bit with her elbow. "You have an entire cheer squad at your disposal."

"Well, almost an entire cheer squad," Riley said, looking off into the distance. "I doubt she'd be any help."

Glancing over my shoulder I saw Vivian, her eyes glued to her phone as she weaved her way through the students. To my surprise Miles wasn't following behind her like a puppy.

"What's her problem anyway?" I asked, looking back at the girls.

"We have no idea," Riley said.

"She's been acting weird since school started," Jem explained, her lips turning into a frown.

"We've tried talking to her, but she just pushes us away," Kimber added.

So, Vivian wasn't always a mean girl? What could have happened to make her change like that?

+ + +

As I stood at my locker putting my World History book in its place, someone cleared their throat behind the opened door of my locker. When I peered behind it I was greeted by a smiling Cameron. His tall, lanky frame leaned against the locker next to mine, his hands hidden behind his back.

"Three hours. That's how long it took me to find this," he announced and I felt my lips twitch up into a smile. "But if anyone asks, you didn't get this from me." He handed me a small, white envelope containing a DVD. On the back written in green marker was: 3rd GRADE X-MAS PLAY.

During our drinking game I told Cameron about Nikki sharing my embarrassing stories with Miles and he offered to help me level the playing field. I had almost forgotten about it with everything thing else going on.

"Miles is coming," he coughed and I quickly slipped the DVD into my bag.

"Dude, lunch started two minutes ago. What are you doing still hanging in the hall?" Miles laughed, joining us at my locker. He had a square, white Band-Aid on his forehead and looked a lot more lively than he did last night.

I almost felt bad for him until I remember how he left me.

"Good point. I'll catch y'all later." With that, Cameron practically sprinted down the hall, dodging people as he went.

Miles turned to me, flashing that perfect smile of his at me. "What's up, Mermaid?"

Shutting my locker with more force than necessary, I began to make my way to the quad where I was supposed to meet the girls. They were not kidding when they said we had to move fast with the fashion show. They wanted to start immediately.

"That was some party last night," he chuckled, falling into step beside me.

"How would you know? You left before it even started," I bit, sounding harsher than I intended to. Sure, it stung a little when he left, but I didn't want him to know that.

"You did say that I needed to see a doctor."

I wasn't falling for his smile or his charm. Not anymore. Staring straight ahead, I pretended he wasn't even there.

"How about I buy you lunch," he offered as we stepped out of the building and into the outside eating area.

"I'm busy," I said with enough venom to make him stop in his tracks. Getting my point across was supposed to make me feel better, instead my mouth filled with the sour taste of bitterness. I swallowed it down as I made my way over to the girls.

+ + +

"It wasn't a date," I told Nikki for the fifth time. Switching the phone to my other ear, I chop vegetables for my soup. Normally, I didn't eat soup, but the picture in the magazine made it look delicious. I was a sucker for random magazine recipes.

"That's what your mom said it was," Nikki sang. "And that's what it looked like in the picture she sent."

I nearly chopped off my finger along with the celery, too mortified by what she said to pay attention. "She sent you that?"

"Yep," she laughed. "But, hey, if you don't want him I'll take him."

"Maybe you should," I told her. "Then his girlfriend can harass you."

I dumped the celery into the pot with all the other ingredients, stirring everything together with a large metal spoon.

"What girlfriend?" she demanded.

I stopped stirring, letting the soup cook as I leaned against the adjacent counter.

"Well, he claims they're not dating," I said. "Actually, he keeps making it a point to tell me that their just friends. They're always hugged up together, but they're just friends. And he keeps telling me this like I care if they're friends or lovers or whatever. Because I don't care. At all. I have more important things going on. I don't have time to worry about -- why are you laughing?"

She didn't answer me, just continued to laugh at whatever it was she found so amusing. It went on longer than necessary, so I ended the call.

My hand started to hurt and that when I realized how tightly I had been holding onto the spoon. The flowery design on the handle had been imprinted in my palm.

The phone rang a couple of seconds later and I answered, already knowing it was Nikki.

"Why you hang up on me, Heffa?"

"Because, you sound like a damn seagull when you laugh," I told her, setting the spoon down on the counter.

She laughed again. "If you want to know what you sounded like during that rant, just refer to your costume last night."

I glanced down at the design on my hand that had started to fade. It was like a bright neon sign that read: YOU LIKE MILES.

Jerrell was the last guy that I liked. I forgot how invasive having feelings for someone was. It was like Miles not only occupied my thoughts, but pulsed through my veins. Attacking my central nervous system and making me act like a total lunatic.

Damn it.