"He's just a boy / And I'm just a girl / Can I make it any more obvious? / We are in love / Haven't you heard / How we rock each other's world"
—Skater Boi, Avril Lavigne
If there's one thing I can say about Scuz, the man delivers. Sunday morning, when I found myself back at Java the Cup, working on homework while sipping a cappuccino, I was approached by a very well-dressed man somewhere in his early 50s. His grey suit was perfectly tailored, with a crisp white shirt underneath. Silver cufflinks that twinkled like stars held the look together. He introduced himself as Mr. Ruben Julius. Then he handed me a lovely green velvet box with a gold latch and a hand-written note on card stock taped to the top.
Better than new, cuz.
— Scuz
Though I'd told Calvin to meet at headquarters—the massive treehouse Keith put together in our yard, if you can call it a yard. It's an enormous space with a garden, a pool and a deck. The stone path that weaves in and out of the yard leads to the back fence, lined with massive sycamore trees that hide it. The trees reach high, providing the perfect shade on hot summer days. After my mom and Keith married, he commissioned a treehouse for me and Aidan, saying it was meant to be our own space.
I absolutely hated it. What was I, five years old? It was only when Riley, back when we were friends, pointed out that it was the perfect place to get drunk away from the 'rents I started to see its use. In those days, we'd hang out drinking bottles of WKD and Smirnoff Ice purchased by someone's older brother or downing whatever booze we could sneak out of our parent's liquor cabinets. Mom was so busy with Keith and the twins that she never realized what we were up to.
Now, I use it to meet with Calvin and to hide from the twins, though they try desperately to climb in at every opportunity.
After Mr. Julius dropped off the package, I waited around, finishing my drink. And yeah, okay, maybe I was waiting to see if the cute barista, Cole, was working again. I wrapped things up after half an hour and 10 texts from Calvin.
I don't know how Scuz knows Mr. Julius, and quite frankly, I don't want to, but the man is a miracle worker. The egg looked perfect. No one would know it had ever had a date with the floor.
So when Monday morning came, I entered school with a considerable amount of pep in my step. I'd managed to rock the Benjamins by taking out Dylan, and I walked away with a crazy payday all because Madison Parker has more dollars than sense.
Since my first class was a spare, I managed to make it to my locker without running into any of the Benjamins (another score), yet as I grabbed the books for my morning classes, I couldn't help but notice a strange feeling in the hallways—the school was buzzing. Kids ran back and forth between lockers, whispering excitedly when the bell rang to signal the end of first period. Maybe there was news about Homecoming. With just a week to go, the daily announcements are a constant stream of updates about the big, dumb dance.
As I have the misfortune of being only three lockers down from Madison, I knew my lucky streak would come to an end imminently. As soon as I started to pull books from my locker, Taylor and Cherry Vasceccio, a second-tier Benjamin and Taylor's latest lackey, descend on Madison.
"Did you hear the news?"
"About Dylan? Oh my God, Taylor, that was so last week." Madison says, rolling her eyes. The two of them are more frenemy than friends. I don't think Madison ever forgave Taylor for stealing Dylan from her last summer. She's probably full of glee at his downfall.
"Dylan, who?" Taylor says, returning the eye roll. Honestly, not to sound like my mother here, but if they keep this up, there's a strong chance their eyes will get stuck like that.
Standing on the opposite side of Madison's locker, Cherry gives an affirming nod. I bite back a smirk. Taylor is one vicious chick. Two weeks ago, she would tell anyone who would listen how much of a shoo-in she and Dylan were for Homecoming Court; now, she doesn't even know she's giving him the Mariah Carey "I don't know her." Listening to Taylor's conversation was never a good idea, but I can't help myself. What can I say? I'm a nosy bitch.
"Anyway," Taylor continued, drawing the word out as she flipped her sheet of long blonde hair over a shoulder to reveal the dark lowlights underneath. After dallying with intense side bangs all last year, she started this school year with a new ombré look. If there's a trend to follow, you can be sure Taylor will be on it. No doubt, next week, there will be a sea of girls at school walking around with varying degrees of high and lowlights. "I was talking about the new kid. He drove up about twenty minutes ago, in a sick ride. He's gorgeous. And apparently, he was, like, a big-deal footballer at his old school. According to Nick, he's pretty much guaranteed to fill the hole on the Varsity team."
Her words set off a little alarm in the back of my mind. A new kid, smoking hot—what are the odds there are two new smoke show Juniors starting on the same day, a month into the new school year? She has to be talking about—
"Cole Jacinto!" Madison's voice pierces my thoughts, bringing me back to the hallway. I turn just slightly, following her gaze, and there he is. Cole. He's wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, a Dead Kennedy's t-shirt over a long-sleeved white shirt, and black Osiris D3s. A slouchy black beanie hides his dark hair. He looks good. Heads turn as he walks down the hall, a skateboard tucked under his arm. I eye him from behind my open locker. My heart and head are at war with each other. There's no way Cole is a footballer. He's too cool, too...not a dick. I flick my gaze back at the Benjamin girls; they take him in with excitement and desire.
"You know him?" Taylor asks, her thin eyebrows shooting up. I can tell by the turn of her mouth that the possibility that Madison and Cole have some kind of history annoys her.
"Anyone who's anyone knows Cole Jacinto. He's one of the youngest-ever All-Americans. Scouts from major universities, including Notre Dame, USC and Ohio State, have come to watch him play, and he's only now entering Junior year." She pauses, giving Taylor what can only be considered a stank eye. "I guess you're only into ballers, eh? Doesn't matter the sport."
"Bitter much?" Taylor shoots back.
I feel like my brain is turning to mush listening to them. Considering they'd gone this long without noticing me, I decide to not push my luck. Cole's stopped now, chatting with two seniors—Braydon Williams and Justin Waller—footballers. I fight back a visible shudder. Of course, he was too good to be true.
He looks away from the jocks, casting his gaze down the hall, his eyes landing on me. His lips quirk into a half smile, and my dumb heart stutters. I place a scowl on my face, slam my locker shut and turn my back on him; of course, that brings me face-to-face with Madison, Cherry and Taylor.
"What are you looking at?" Taylor sneers. I guess she's still pissed about me calling her out last week.
"The embodiment of insecurity." I retort as I push past her.
I stomp down the hallway, forcing students to jump out of my way as I go.
All through second and third period I'm in a lousy mood. Between each class change, I found myself evading Cole, who seemed to have some supernatural ability to suss me out. He called after me twice in the hall; each time, he was surrounded by Benjamins. Jocks mostly, but when I saw him just before third period, he was standing next to Riley. Her chunky blonde highlights pulled into a low-riding side ponytail. She was smiling up at him, laughing at something he said.
By lunchtime, I'm fuming. If I were a normal person, I'd have gone home and Googled him after our initial meeting at Java. But no, I had to get my work done.
"You all right, Dodge?" Calvin asks as we make our way through the cafeteria line. I wave him off. He's used to my relatively dour mood. For him to ask after it means I must really be projecting. Feeling bad for being such a Grinch, I do my best to give him a smile.
"He is SO hot. Maybe even hotter than Nick."
"Oh, he's definitely hotter than Nick."
I turn my attention to the girls in front of us, from the look of them, I'd say they were sophomores. Glossed lips and Juicy velour tracksuits tell me they're Benjamin wannabes.
"Who's hotter than Nick?" Calvin asks. I frown at him. His natural curiosity is forever forcing me into conversations I don't want to be part of.
The girls turn and together give him a once-over.
He's wearing massive bright yellow pants, best described as gauchos, held together by a purple rope belt. His electric purple socks are pulled up so you can see them with every step he takes. Yet, it's his sweater, black with a smiley face bleeding from the eyes, that gets him the most stares.
The girl who spoke first, strawberry blonde hair flipped out so much it looks like wings gives him an appraising look.
"The new kid. Cole Jacinto."
"There's a new kid?" Calvin asks, genuinely shocked. He looks at me for confirmation. The sound of Cole's name has pushed me further down my rage hole. All morning his name has cropped up like cannons shot from enemy camps, poking massive, burning holes in my castle's walls. Soon enough, one of them will implode.
"Have you met this guy?" He asks me.
I shake my head at him. Before he can ask anything more, Ms. Bhatnagar sidles up to us.
"Mr. Johnson, this shirt is...wow." Calvin turns to flash her a big grin. She's my favourite teacher, I won't have her until I take English Literature next semester.
"Thanks, Ms. B! I made it myself." She gives him a smile before turning to me.
"Hiya Kit."
"Dodger."
"Sorry, Dodger. I was sad that I didn't have you this semester for calculus."
"Me too." I say, "But I have you for English Lit next semester."
"Something to look forward to," she pats me on the back. "But don't be a stranger, okay? My door's always open." With that, she heads off with her lunch in hand.
"So this new kid," Calvin begins.
"Can we not?" I ask as we make it to the top of the line.
- - -
We leave the cafeteria and head out to the quad. The sun is shining, and the breeze is nice and warm. It's hard to believe it's the start of October.
A group of jocks stands on the far end of Redland's courtyard tossing a frisbee back and forth. A group of girls in low-rise jeans and baby ts lay back on the grass, watching and whispering as they watch the game.
No sooner do we sit than the girls start primping and preening. Their whispers are practically shouts, and it's clear they're not even trying to hide their excitement.
I refuse to look up even though I know exactly what's happening. Cole.
"Oh! Is that the new kid then, Dodger? Cole?" Calvin asks, his voice rising above the din. I groan inwardly. The last thing I want is to make Calvin self-conscious about his...voice modulation problems. Still, I silently tell myself off for not spending time teaching him how to whisper.
The sound of his name reaches him across the way, leading Cole to turn his head. I swear it's like watching an Abercrombie & Fitch commercial, but make it punk. He's removed his beanie so his dark hair shines in the sunlight. His shirt rides up as he twists, exposing a sliver of his stomach. He runs a hand through his thick hair, and I swear time stands still as the silky strands slip through his long fingers. A collective moan rises from the grass where the swath of girls stare openly.
He catches sight of me and smiles. It's tentative. He thinks I'm the one who called him.
I scowl—hard. My eyes narrow at him and then flick to the corner of the quad where the Benjamins have entered, Nick in the lead as always.
"Hey, Jacinto!" He calls out, an eyebrow raised as he notices who Cole has turned toward. I shove my half-eaten lunch at Calvin and mumble something about needing to run to the library and boot it.
I make it halfway to the library when the sound of running feet catches up to me.
"Coffee Girl! Hey!" Cole's voice rings through the empty hall.
I spin around on my scuffed-up Chuck's, my face like thunder.
He stops dead in his tracks, his brown eyes growing to the size of saucers.
"What do you want?" I ask, my voice low and full of venom. Why am I like this?
"What do you mean?" He looks so innocent. A part of me wants to believe he could be the same sweet guy I met on the weekend. He's a jock. My inner monologue breaks through. Jocks can't be trusted.
"Tell me, Coffee Boy, are you a lemming or a bully?"
"What?" He looks confused; our conversation from Saturday is a distant memory.
I stare at him.
"Here half a day, and you're already a Benjamin."
Dawning comprehension takes over his face. He runs his hand through his hair again, shaking his head.
"Look, I know a lot of the guys here from football, that's all. I'm not one of them. I—"
"Did Butler put you up to this? Is he trying to She's All That Me or something?"
"What?"
"She's All That, it's a movie staring Freddie Prinze Jun—"
"I know what She's All That is. I have six sisters."
"Six sisters! What the hell? Whatever, it doesn't matter. I have to go. I'm gonna be late for the...library."
"How can you be late for the library?"
"Shut up. That's how."
"Coffee Girl, wait—" he reaches for me, his fingers curling around my bicep. His grip is strong enough that I can't slip out. I yank my arm hard, pulling free from his grasp.
"Let go of me. Stop calling me Coffee Girl. Stop bothering me. Whatever game it is Butler's trying to play; I want no part of it. Got it?"
He licks his lips. His eyes flick back and forth as he takes me in. I can only imagine how I must look to him—like a crazed woman. Probably figures it's that time of the month. Is it that time of the month? No. I'm rattled. I let myself hope he might be different. But he's a footballer. He's one of Nick's boys. I know it.
"I'm sorry," he says, his voice low, his hands up as if trying to calm a rabid raccoon. I half expect him to start backing away in due time. "But seriously, I barely know these guys. I mean, yeah, I've played against them. But they're only being so friendly because they want me to join the team. I—that's it." He finishes lamely.
I scan his face. I want to believe him. Yet, the image of Nick calling out to him. The way Madison practically drooled over the idea of him. It's too much. He's a jock.
He waits me out, a small smile creeping across his lips. "Why don't you walk me to my next class? We can...maybe we can talk some more?"
I make a face at him.
"Aren't you supposed to offer to walk me to class?" I ask. "Or is chivalry truly dead?"
"Oh yeah, it's dead. Besides, I have been late to every class. This place is a maze. If you let me lead, we might end up at the tennis courts."
"We don't have tennis courts."
"Exactly."
I take a tentative step toward him, and then the bell rings. The sound breaks whatever spell I was under. I blink fast and look around as classroom doors bang open and kids spill out into the hallway. They flood the space, walking between me and Cole. I take the opportunity to scamper away because, well, I'm kind of pathetic.
I don't even bother heading to my next class. Instead, I head out the big front doors and enter the still-sunny day. Mondays are the worst. I'll start over tomorrow.