0 6
a suicide mission
Today started out pretty normal, now that I think about it.
Mornings in the Hale house were interesting as ever. I had my bowl of cereal, which was the third flavour I've tasted this week. It was disgusting. Even more than that other one I ate a few days ago.
(I mean, it was called Raisin Blazin' — if that wasn't a red sign for me, I didn't know what was.)
Penelope was in the living room watching reruns of Hannah Montana. I told her she should be grateful that the channel still aired their episodes, because most of the new Disney shows sucked. She threw the remote at me.
Mom was in the kitchen sipping a cup of coffee, a giant canvas statued on one of the counter stools, per usual. She's a painter; a really good one at that. I didn't inherit that trait sadly.
What I did inherit was the competitive trait. That's why Dad and I are pretty much mirrors of each other. Around the house were medals, trophies and certificates of all the things we either won or participated in. There's a variety in them — a Mathletes competition (me), Best Student of the Year (him; and this was after he graduated), a skateboarding race (I was thirteen), and the list goes on.
That morning, he was bent towards the table, focused on a crossword puzzle he found on the newspaper. Never the one to back out of a challenge.
I know the feeling.
"Bye, my blood people," I called before leaving school. They all bid me goodbye and, as I stepped out of the porch, I knew what's about to come. Even when I thought nah, this is going to be different.
Then I tripped.
Like every other day.
"Dad!" I yelled, kicking away the demon. "Your gnomes are terrorising the place!"
He decided to shroud the front garden with gnomes — little, sharp demonic gnomes — just because a rude neighbour of ours had commented how our garden was the most "boring" one in the neighbourhood. Dad, of course, retaliated in the most weirdest way possible.
He chose gnomes, out of everything.
"Love you too, honey!" he answered back.
From the car that was parked right in front of our driveway, Liv smirked. "Did I tell you how much I adore those gnomes?"
"Shut up."
When we were about five minutes from school, my phone rang. I instantly groaned seeing the caller's ID.
"Trey," I said tightly.
"Addie," he greeted, no doubt smiling.
"Let me see. Got new plans for me?"
"Oh, Addie, the ever most curious," he teased, knowing what had transpired between Jude and I. He couldn't stop laughing about it. "I just have one question."
The car engine died down, and I blinked. I hadn't realised we'd arrived already. Liv pulled the keys out and opened the door, and I slowly opened mine. "What is it?"
Right when I stood up, the view of the school and students consumed my vision. Noise and chatter penetrated my ears. But my eyes were fixed on the tree near the parking lot; incidentally the one Liv and I hid behind before I talked to Jude.
Leaning over that very tree was Trey.
He was looking right at me, still holding the phone to his ear.
Grinning.
"Have you ever gotten detention?"
***
I think I'm cursed.
Truly, I believe I am. And I'm beginning to accept that the universe just hates me.
And also because Jude Reynolds is staring at me like I'm a freak.
Don't look at him. But I do. I can sense him looking at me, even when I'm not looking at him. He's judging me, I know it. Because who would've thought Adelaide Hale would land herself here?
No one. Exactly. Except for one person.
One of Trey's brilliant plans is to get me as close to Jude Reynolds as possible, and a way to do that is through detention. Somehow Gonzalez knew Jude would get it today, and the genius knew I couldn't possibly land myself here alone, so he did it for me — the classic paper-throwing trick. Of course I'm the culprit. The charming and straight-A prodigy Trey Gonzalez would never do that.
The longer Jude stares at me, the longer I can't keep quiet.
"What?" I demand, but my attempt at being snappy turns cracked.
"Who put you up to this?"
I gulp. "I threw a paper ball at Mr. Portman. What's your excuse?"
"Some douche cornered a freshman and I decked him in the face," he says unflinchingly. He keeps his eyes trained on me. "But that's not what I meant. Who put you up to this?" He gestures to us.
"What?" I stall. "What do you mean?" A quick impulse invades my mind: Bieber's song. That would be funny. But I don't think Jude would appreciate my singing skills.
He glares at me, as if reaffirming that statement.
I shrink in my seat.
"I've never seen you in detention my whole fucking life. And you've never tried talking to me until that day. Clearly you didn't want to talk to me at all. Why is that?"
Jude's harsh tone almost jolts me back. "Y-you're exaggerating."
"Bullshit."
Oh God.
"My best guess," he continues, like I haven't just froze, "is that you're trying to get close to me so you can get close to my sister. For some reason."
"What?" I squeak. "Why would I do that?"
What I'm really asking: am I really that obvious?
He glares harder. Jeez, he can't take a break. "You think I'm stupid? Everyone in this school is obsessed with her." There's no resentment in his tone, though. He just states it like it's a fact.
"Not everyone..." I pause. "Okay, almost everyone."
Jude waits for my answer, his expression still demanding.
I can't tell him the truth. If he knows that I'm trying to hook up his sister with one of the school's biggest players, he'll never let Trey touch her. Or any guy in that matter.
I raise my hands up quickly. "You're right. I just want to get to know her."
"So this isn't because you're helping some guy bone my sister?"
I flinch. Is it smart to lie to this guy? "And if I was?"
"Well, I don't like him already. Only because you're here doing all the work and not him. Makes him look like a pussy."
"He's not a — " I stop. "Shit."
Why do I always do this?!
Jude doesn't even look surprised. "Who is he?"
I sigh, giving up. "You'll find out soon enough."
He finally lies back against his seat, giving me a break to recover from those godforsaken green eyes. "Whoever he is, he's not going to last." Again, the third time I've heard that. "Justine's stubborn."
"He's more stubborn."
"We'll see about that."
I blink. "Wait, so you approve?"
"No," he snaps. "I'm the overprotective brother. I'll never approve. But she's a big girl and she can take care of herself." He glances at me. "I won't tell her about your genius fucking plan. As long as you two don't hurt her."
I gulp. "W-we won't. I think he genuinely likes her."
He has to.
Because if not, Trey is signing both of us to a suicide mission.
Jude peers at me again, but this time I can't tell why. "I'm surprised you're not asking for my help."
I pause. "No," I drag out. "I usually don't."
"And why the fuck not?"
His constant f-bombs makes me more nervous than I look. "I-I don't want the answers given to me on a silver platter."
Silence. And then, "What did you say your name was again?"
Swallowing, I say, "Addie."
"Addie," he repeats, contemplating. "You don't happen to be that chick everyone likes to talk about, do you?"
I let out a humourless laugh. "That's me."
"Huh," he mutters plainly, looking me over. But it feels like he isn't just looking at my looks this time. "Thought you'd be more self-absorbed. Or at least the snob that everyone's painted you to be."
"Sorry to disappoint," I try to say lightly, but it comes off as defensive.
I'm used to all the snickers in the hallways. I've managed to put all of it aside, like something I would see from my peripheral view and not have it bother me one bit. But for him to state it so candidly is another thing.
Jude chuckles, and for the first time, he gives me something that's almost close to a smile. The annoyance in me slowly disappears as I wait for his next words.
"Trust me, sweetheart, you didn't."
A/N: This chapter reveals more insight of Addie's character, which is important. Also, don't you love it when Addie and Jude talk? Their dynamic is hella interesting.