"Oh God!" slipped out of my mouth as my eyes unwillingly traveled up to the brunette's hair, which was covering Jordan's face and keeping me from seeing their mouths locked together. "Sorry— God...uh...totally sorry."
I dove into the safety of the kitchen, wanting nothing but to crawl under the table and never come out. Instead, I knelt down on the floor and stuck my head in a cabinet full of pots and pans, pretending to look for something really important. I could hear voices talking softly, then the girl's laughter, followed by the front door closing. A few seconds later, Jordan was in the kitchen, flinging open the fridge as if nothing had happened.
My face was hotter than hell and I must have looked like one big mess of chalk dust and sweat, but I wasn't too chicken to at least apologize. I mean, this was his house and I'd just walked right in. I should have knocked or something. The key was probably for emergencies, like when nobody was home. Why else would Jordan lock the front door while he was inside? Obviously he had wanted to prevent situations like these.
"Um, sorry," I said, standing quickly and turning to lean my back against the counter. "I should have knocked or rang the doorbell or something."
He shrugged and tossed several items from the fridge onto the counter. "Don't sweat it. She had to leave, anyway."
"It won't happen again," I promised, crossing my fingers that he wouldn't find something to complain about to Coach Bentley and have me shipped off to the Grandma's or Blair's house. Mrs. Martin was too much of a mom and Mr. Martin too much of a dad. I wouldn't last a day in that house.
Jordan gave me a lopsided grin that was too genuine to be fake. "It's fine. Really."
It occurred to me, right then, that maybe he was concerned about me getting him in trouble. He had gotten caught in a pretty intense make-out session.
Coach Bentley had left a huge stack of forms for me to fill out, finalizing my change of address and insurance and a whole bunch of small details that no one ever thinks about when they decide to live with a nonrelative. I grabbed a pen and sat at the tiny kitchen table, which I just noticed had only two chairs, and went to work on filling in my social security number five hundred times. My stomach continued to grumble as I worked. I hadn't eaten since eleven thirty, right after morning practice, and it was now nearly eight at night. I gulped down half of my water bottle while Jordan continued to mess around in the fridge and kitchen cabinets.
Eventually, he sat down across from me, holding two plates, each containing a sandwich. He slid a plate over to my side of the table. "I made you one, too. Thought you might be hungry."
Okay, he's definitely worried about me squealing on him. I stared at the deadly-thick, forbidden slices of white bread wrapped around cheese and meat. Would it be rude to ask for whole wheat pita bread?
Jordan jumped up and grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge, offering me one. I shook my head and nodded toward my water bottle resting beside my plate. He drank half the soda in about five seconds and started on his sandwich.
A hunger headache was already forming, along with an allergic reaction to paperwork. I rubbed my temples and sighed before finally conceding, throwing out any amount of manners I'd been taught in my sixteen years. I tossed the top piece of bread off my sandwich and removed both slices of cheddar cheese, setting them beside the bread before picking up a slice of turkey and munching on it, my focus still on the paper in front of me.
I could feel Jordan's gaze on me, but he didn't comment. Not a word. Not that I was really surprised. You could practically hear his internal debate in the near silence, always returning to the same words that followed me everywhere...dead parents, dead parents, dead parents. It wasn't like he could ask me why I was acting so weird and get a better answer than...dead parents.
And nobody wants you to actually say that answer out loud. In fact, most people would do everything in their power to avoid hearing me speak those words. I could probably get away with murder. Or kidnapping. Or underage drinking.
Coach Bentley came home when I had just finished my third slice of turkey and Jordan was down to only the crusts of his sandwich. Bentley stood in the kitchen, sifting through a stack of mail in his hands, not looking up at either of us.
"Did you make it to practice okay?" he finally asked me. "Jordan was here when you got home, I hope?"
I swallowed my last bite of turkey, washing it down with a large gulp of water, while Jordan's eyebrows lifted, waiting for my answer. "I got to practice just fine. And he was here when Stevie dropped me off."
I could have sworn I heard Jordan let out a breath, but I wasn't sure. Coach Bentley nodded his approval and started to walk out of the kitchen. He stopped suddenly and moved toward the table when he saw me picking a fourth piece of turkey out of my sandwich.
"I'm sorry," Coach Bentley said quickly. "I didn't think to ask what you liked to eat. McDonald's is around the corner. I'll run and grab you something else."
Wow, he really is the complete opposite of Coach Cordes.
I scrambled to put the sandwich back together and tapped the pen nervously against the table. "It's not that I don't like it." I spun halfway around to face him. "But some of it's not on the diet and..." I trailed off, hoping this would spark some kind of recognition.
"Diet?" Bentley's forehead wrinkled and he scratched the top of his bald head.
"The team nutritionist's diet. She meets with the elite girls and our families every six months and we get detailed menus to follow." How did he not know about this? And here I was worried that he'd crack the whip on the food issue and he was seconds from buying me a Big Mac and fries.
"Maybe I do remember someone mentioning the nutritionist," he said finally. "Does Stacey know the details?"
"Uh...yeah." She was the one who got on us when any of us tried to cheat, like at competitions when we traveled as a team and went out to dinner together. Stacey was convinced that one meal without a leafy green food would ruin our immune systems forever. And white bread would make us all fall off the balance beam instantly. "It's just empty calories," she always said, and, "It doesn't leave any room for good food."
I could honestly say that I've rarely cheated on my diet. I liked all the foods that were recommended to us. But I've seen Blair go home after practice and eat nothing but two candy bars and a bowl of Lucky Charms, then work out again for four hours later that day. Everyone else cheated, but we'd never rat each other out. Ever. It was part of the teammate bond.
"I'll talk to Stacey," Bentley said. "She can fill me in."
Jordan rolled his eyes and got up from his chair, tossing his plate into the sink with a loud bang. Coach Bentley sighed as his son left without a word. Obviously, this wasn't a hugging kind of father/son relationship.
January 29
Mom,
Complete and utter humiliation. That's what happened to me tonight. I hadn't even been close to prepared to walk in on Jordan and his prep school girlfriend. Maybe if they had been vertical instead of horizontal it would have been twenty percent less embarrassing? Now I have to think about that every time I see him. This is going to be so much fun. If you could answer this, I know you'd have something funny to say that would help me feel a little less like an ignorant homeschooled girl. I'm not ignorant, it's just new to me. Boys in the house. Boys in the house kissing girls...
Love, Karen
***
After finishing all the paperwork, I finally made myself walk up the stairs. Jordan's bedroom door was open, his body stretched across the bed, textbooks and notebooks spread out in front of him as he scribbled on a page. Remembering Blair's concerns, I knocked lightly on the door frame and he looked up right away.
"Is it okay if...if I use the shower? You don't need to go in there now...do you? Because I can totally wait or whatever."
He looked mildly amused with my obvious distress. "The bathroom's all yours, Karen." As I started to turn away, he added, "Just don't mess with those magazines under the sink."
My eyes widened. Jordan laughed and looked down at his notebook again. "Kidding."
I let out a breath before walking away.
"I removed all traces of porn this morning before you got here," he said to my back.
Being an only child had left me highly unprepared for a number of situations. I was clearly in over my head. Not something I felt often.
The shower went without any indecent exposure, but even gobs of fruity shampoo and body wash couldn't keep the smell of home out of my nostrils the second I walked into my new bedroom. It hit me right in the gut and for a minute, I thought I might be sick. I didn't dare open the box that held my sheets and comforter. Instead, I opened the door to my new bedroom closet. With an extra blanket and pillow from the upstairs hall closet, I slid the closet door shut, pressing the blanket into the tiny space under the door, before curling up on the tan carpeted floor.
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