Chapter 5
I'm on the school bus, heading for Rockford High. This morning at breakfast, Jessica made it clear that she wouldn't drive me to school in her car, which was very much all right with me. I wouldn't have wanted her to, anyway.
I swear, when I share the same space with this girl, it's like she's aiming these poisonous little darts at me all the freaking time. This entire morning she made sly, nasty hints: basically shredding my taste in clothes, my hair, my skin, everything about me, even my adding a bit of sugar to my chocolate milk at breakfast. If I were to believe her insinuations, I'd see myself as an acne-plagued, overweight hunchback with straw hair and wearing her granny's clothes, and I'd have to put a bag on my face before going out in public. Or even out of my room.
I've tried to ignore her hostility but it's already wearing me out. Before meeting Jessica I'd been proud of my thick skin, always letting insults and mockery go over my head—yet it seems that my previous airtight armor is no match for this girl's toxicity.
I'm looking out the window, my earphones on, but I don't hear the music from my player. I've tried to occupy my mind with Jessica, but the closer the bus gets to Rockford High, the less is that distraction working. So I give in and let myself think of Seth.
Today I'll see him, and I'll finally be able to move on.
For more than five years, I haven't been able to reconcile the image of the Seth with whom I grew up—the sweet boy who cared for me and protected me and held me in my sleep—with the image of the Seth after I left—the boy who broke his promise to me, who cut me out of his life without mercy, who was callous enough to ignore 365 letters I wrote him and the phone numbers I sent him, begging him to call.
This last part is what hurts the most, I think. Maybe I could have understood that he stopped wanting to be my friend. Or at least, I wouldn't have judged him for it. But I don't think I'll ever understand, or forgive, his heartlessness in not contacting me even once. After our years together, the least he owed me was a measly letter or phone call to tell me straight up that he didn't want me as a friend anymore.
This immense contrast, between the Seth who loved me and the Seth who abandoned me, has tormented me all this time. I may have alternated between missing him and hating him, but I've never forgotten him. I'm still tied to him with the heavy chains of all our shared memories, all his smiles, all his tender words to me.
And I need to be set free.
Today I'll look at him and I won't see my childhood friend anymore. I'll see a grown boy, a stranger after five years of no contact, and I'll finally be free of him.
I'll finally see that the Seth I knew and loved is gone forever.
The bus has stopped. I've alighted, and now I'm standing in front of Rockford High, with students all around me. Just like that, I'm confronted with the actual reality of where I am and what's about to happen today. All of a sudden I can't breathe properly anymore. My feet are frozen to the ground, my heart is beating too fast, and I fear I'm about to have a panic attack.
Stop it! I give myself a mental slap. So yeah, possibly I'll glimpse Seth today. That's not the equivalent of the apocalypse coming, right?
Oh merciful heaven, but it sure feels that way, as if I'm about to confront my own personal Armageddon! And did I just say that I'll possibly glimpse Seth? Yeah, right. Way to play it cool, Summer. In truth, if he's anywhere on school premises, I'll make sure I see him, even if I have to sneak into the guys' locker room to do so. And jeez, did I just think that? Eww, am I really that far gone? I don't think so. Or I hope not, though I can't be sure.
Okay, so I probably won't go as far as stalking him into the guys' locker room. But other than that, I don't really think I have any limits. I truly need to see Seth so I'll have my closure. All I need is to sneak a look from a safe distance. I'll be careful that he doesn't spot me when I do.
Though I don't really know why I'm worrying about him seeing me. Frankly, it'd be a miracle if he noticed me. First of all, he clearly stopped thinking about me five years ago, so he's sure to have forgotten all about me by now. He probably doesn't even remember how I look. Second, I'm wearing my tried-and-true "school uniform", whose sole purpose is to make me invisible/unattractive. So there really is no chance that he'll recognize me.
I introduced the "uniform" after I turned fourteen, when I suddenly grew boobs and boys started to take too much notice of them, as well as of other parts of my anatomy. I don't want to draw attention to myself—having boys hitting on me and asking me things is a hassle I would rather do without. I'm not in the market for any relationship nor do I want a meaningless sexual hookup. So that pretty much means I have no use for guys.
Not to mention, boys paying too much attention to me often equals, in my unfortunate experience, having the popular girls giving me too much attention as well: mostly in the form of nasty looks aimed at me and attempts to trip me in the hallways. Which I would also rather do without.
Besides, as an orphan girl living in foster homes, I quickly decided that the smart thing to do (besides locking my door at night) was to make myself as unappealing as possible. I've had a couple of shady foster fathers and brothers who looked at me in a way that made me uneasy, so better to be safe than sorry, right?
Which is why I wear my "uniform": consisting of baggy, worn jeans, and sweaters and hoodies that are several sizes too large. My long hair I put up in an unsightly bun. Plus, I have perpetual dark shadows under my eyes because of how little I sleep, and I never wear makeup.
Even so, every once in a while my face brings me some unwanted male interest—maybe because my hazel eyes are too striking contrasted against my pale skin and blond hair?—but it's nothing I can't handle.
Well then, if I plan to remain invisible at Rockford High, I should probably get going. I've been standing in front of the school like a statue for almost five minutes, and some of the students are beginning to stare at me. So I duck my head and walk toward the entrance.
* * *
After picking up my schedule in the main office, I reach my first class, Honors English, seconds before the bell rings. I go up to the teacher, Mrs. Roberts, a kindly looking forty-something woman, and introduce myself. She gives me a book and points out a free seat near the window, next to a brown-haired girl with glasses. I'm thankful that Mrs. Roberts doesn't ask me to introduce myself in front of the entire classroom. I'm already drawing far too many curious glances as it is.
I go and take my seat. The brown-haired girl offers me a broad, friendly smile, which I return with a much smaller one. I look at the book and groan mentally. Not this again; it'll be my third time studying The Importance of Being Earnest.
That's just another unfortunate consequence of my having gone through seventeen foster homes in five years. Ms. Walker in particular tried very hard to place me with families living in the same school district so I wouldn't have to change schools too often. But sometimes there really was no other option or I'd exhausted all the local foster families, and I had to move further away.
In total I've changed eight schools. Although I suppose it could have been worse—considering my history of seventeen foster homes—still it's made things difficult for me, especially with having to adapt to different school curricula so often. The only reason why I'm still in any Honors classes is because I sleep so little, so I have lots of time for studying.
That, and I have no social life.
At any rate, everything that the teacher is currently saying I've already heard twice before. I let my mind wander. Sooner than expected, the bell signals the end of class.
The brown-haired girl turns instantly and sticks her hand out to me. "Hello there. I'm Marcie Lauren, and you're new here." She's smiling widely.
God, I don't want a friend. But she's so nice and earnest-looking that I can't bring myself to reject her as I know I should. I shake her hand once, then release it quickly.
"Hello, Marcie. I'm Summer, and yes, I'm new. How did you guess?" I joke, smiling slightly.
She snickers as we rise from our seats and head for the door. "Please, like there was any chance for you to get lost in the crowd. Pretty much ninety percent of the kids at R.-High have always lived in this area. We all know each other. So trust me, new faces really stick out." Drat! That's not good.
"Plus, you're gorgeous," she adds casually. Then, giving me a swift, all-encompassing look and biting her lip: "Though your taste in clothes could kinda use some improvement."
We've reached the hallway by now, and on hearing her blunt candor, I can't help myself: I start to laugh. Which is unfortunate, as several passing boys turn their heads to stare at me.
I quickly tug Marcie away and tease, "So you don't like my style? Why ever not?"
She smiles brightly again. "My best friend Dana and I can help you out with that, no problem." She throws a quick glance at the schedule I'm holding in my hand and says, "Hey, you're in Lunch C too. Neat. You should come sit with me and my friends."
I open my mouth to refuse but she speaks before I can. "Oh crapety, look at the time. If we don't hurry, we'll so get a tardy slip. Know where to go for your next class?"
I nod, though I have no idea.
"Okay, see you at lunch!" She's already moving away with the flow of students.
I head in the opposite direction and arrive late for French. Fortunately, the teacher takes mercy on me on account of my being a new student and lets me off without a tardy slip.
* * *
It's finally lunchtime and I'm walking on shaky legs in the direction of the cafeteria. Normally, I wouldn't be caught dead in that crazy hub of student activity. I'd just spend my lunch period hiding out in isolated spots where I'd be sure to be left alone. Today however, I don't have a choice.
To my mingled relief and frustration, I have yet to catch a single glimpse of Seth. This even though after each bell, heading for my various classes, I observed the student traffic with avid eyes. I know I'll pay for not sticking to my usual routine of keeping my gaze on the floor in order to avoid eye contact with other people. I've definitely attracted more than a few curious glances, but right now I really can't bring myself to care about this.
I enter the cafeteria, careful this time to keep my head lowered, and discreetly look around. I spot Marcie sitting at a table just a few steps to my left and approach her hesitatingly; I'm positive this is a bad idea. She sees me before I reach the table and smiles her wide, friendly smile. How alien it is to me, this constant cheerfulness shining so brightly on her face.
"Hey Summer, so glad you could make it." She sounds genuinely excited at seeing me. Then she introduces the three other people at her table. "These are my friends Dana and Robbie, and Will, my boyfriend. We're all Juniors. Everyone, this is Summer, also a Junior. She'll join us for lunch. Summer, sit down already!"
Muttering an awkward, "Hello, everyone", I sit down next to Marcie, with my back half-turned to the cafeteria's entrance. Marcie's friends all mumble hellos as well and proceed to study me with open curiosity. I do the same to them.
Dana is a very attractive girl. She has strong, exotic features, though maybe just a bit too irregular for true beauty, and thick red hair. She's a real knockout and the complete opposite of Marcie in physical appearance. I hope she's not too stuck-up to be a good friend to her.
Marcie's boyfriend, Will, is a lanky boy with messy blond hair and a lively expression. His sharp eyes seem to miss little, if anything.
Finally, Robbie is a smallish guy sporting an even worse dress style than I do currently. I meet his gaze, and he instantly blushes and looks away. He must be the shy type.
Dana seems to have finished analyzing me. "So, Summer, what brings you to our wild, exciting mega-city?" She grins at her irony.
I keep my face noncommittal. "I'm in foster care, and my current placement is in Rockford, with the Andersons."
The girls both groan.
"The Andersons? So you're sharing the same roof with Jessica Anderson?" Dana asks with wide eyes. "Girl, I pity you."
My lips twitch in reluctant amusement. "I gather Jessica is not very well-liked?"
"Well, it depends by who," mutters Marcie. "Her cheerleader gang and the jocks, or... well, the rest of the free world?"
"Come on, girls, she's not that bad," says Will, but sarcasm infuses his voice.
"You're right, Will. She's not just bad, she's the worst," Dana agrees acidly. "She's a total bitch who's made it her mission to make life miserable for every pretty girl outside her posse. And don't even get me started on her posse—total airheads, the bunch of them."
"Mean, too," whispers Marcie. The way she says it, it sounds as if she's experienced some of that meanness first-hand.
"Besides,"—Dana again—"Jessica's a total man-eater." She wrinkles her nose in apparent disgust. "Anyone left in the football team she hasn't banged yet?"
"Doubt it," says Robbie. "Doesn't matter, anyways. The one she really wants is still Lewis."
The name hits me like a punch to the stomach, knocking the breath out of me. I lower my head to hide my reaction.
Luckily, Dana is all fired up to offer her opinion and draws everyone's focus on herself. "Yeah, Robbie, everyone knows that. As if. Jessica has not a chance with him. He's already had her for, like, two weeks Sophomore year, and far as I know, he never goes back for seconds. And seriously, why would he? And with Jessica? He can have anyone else he wants, in and out of this school."
I am barely listening to her anymore.
The door had opened a few seconds ago, letting through a group of five tall, athletic-looking boys. They're now heading for a table at the other end of the cafeteria, where all the other beautiful (and probably most popular) students are sitting—Jessica included, I notice in a daze.
Helplessly, my gaze returns to the five guys. A force stronger than gravity draws my eyes to the boy walking in the middle of the group.
Seth.
My first, somewhat incoherent thought upon seeing him is: Good God, he's hot! He's always been beautiful, but maturity seems to have further refined his features and given them an air of aloof distinction. His face is beyond gorgeous and it is perfectly matched by his body.
Which brings me to my second thought: Good God, he's tall! He is at least 6'3'', at a considered guess, and moves with predatory grace. He's leanly muscled, not as bulky as some of his companions but stronger than any of them, I'd wager. Not to mention faster. In a fight against the others, I have no doubt that he would be the winner without breaking much of a sweat. He just exudes that kind of confident ease and self-assuredness. And an unmistakable edge of danger.
He has the face of a fallen angel, the body of a warrior and the presence of a prince. And, I instantly realize, he is now utterly unreachable to me. At this thought my heart jerks painfully inside my chest.
Seth has arrived at his table and sat down with his friends, turned in profile to me. I let myself stare at him unashamedly. All the other girls in the cafeteria seem to be doing the same thing, and with so many eyes trained on him, one extra pair will hardly matter.
Following the direction of my gaze, Marcie smiles at me, a little sadly. "Yep, that's him, all right. Seth Lewis, Senior, star quarterback of the Rockford Rams, and pretty much the king of R.-High."
"Lewis is an awesome quarterback for sure," Will confirms in a half-admiring, half-envious tone. "He's had scouts looking at him since his Sophomore year, and I heard he was offered at least ten football scholarships at colleges all over the US."
"Shit," says Robbie sotto voce. "Why can't we ever have lunch without football talk, for freak's sake?" Then, at normal volume: "All right, Will, so Lewis is okay at football. Whatever. Other than that, what's so damn special about him? I don't see why everyone keeps singing his praises."
Will gawks at him in disbelief. "Jeez, Robbie, did you hit your head hard when you fell out of bed this morning? Lewis is a hell lot more than just 'okay' at football. Dude, he's the linchpin who's won our team the state championship these last two years."
"Yeah, yeah, and for that he can get away with anything here in school short of blowing up the whole damn building," says Robbie, aggravated. And I thought this guy was shy? "Even then, probably the principal would just pat Lewis on the back and go, 'That's all right, son, we're insured. You just go on making us proud on the field.'"
Marcie grins. "That's funny, but you may be kinda right too." She turns to me to explain. "Principal Adams is, well... pretty much a football fanatic. And while Seth was captain of the team, it just so happens that the Rams had the most fantastic seasons of the last twenty years. The principal all but bows and scrapes whenever he sees Seth."
"And the other teachers are just about the same!" Robbie adds explosively. "Like, Lewis used to skip school a lot. But did the administration or anyone, really, ever give him any flak for it? Hell no, they didn't, not to their damn golden boy. Then there's most of the students here; they're the worst with their stupid, star-struck awe of Lewis." Robbie aims a meaningful stare at his friends.
"Hey, why are you looking at me?" Marcie whines laughingly. "I don't hero worship Seth Lewis. I might be tempted to worship his body—but that would be, say, my constitutional right as a free American citizen." She twinkles at Will, who shakes his head in amusement.
Dana gives her a playful shove and smirks at Robbie. "Yeah, it's unbelievable how things sometimes happen. Like, take this A-mazing quarterback who's done the school and the whole town proud by leading his team to win state championship. Twice. Plus, he's gorgeous and smart besides. But instead of people hating him for all that—you know, like they obviously should—his teachers like him, and gasp, he's even the most popular guy at his school. What total unfairness!"
Robbie practically skewers her with his glare. "Like I said, I'll never understand why Lewis is so damn popular. The guy's scary. Weren't there rumors at one time about him hanging out with gangbangers? And everyone knows how he used to get into those God-awful brawls and beat everyone who challenged him to a pulp. These days, no one would dare take on Lewis in a fight—they'd be too damn scared! For freak's sake, there were even some rumors about him being in underground fights."
"Uh... I don't think those were just rumors," says Will excitedly. "I mean, Lewis has been supporting himself for at least four years, right? He has no family to help him or anything like that. And don't tell me that, on his not-worth-talking-about salary as a part-time mechanic at Joe's Garage, he could've afforded that sweet BMW he drives."
"Besides," says Dana, "he dresses well. Not designer stuff but definitely nice clothes. Still, he could probably wear a sack and still look hot. Seriously, just look at that body... yum, yummy!" She licks her lips mischievously while eyeing Seth. I stare at her—hard—until she stops undressing him mentally. But judging by her grin, she's completely unrepentant.
Meanwhile, I try to process everything I've just found out.
Seth plays football—exceptionally well, it seems. No shocker there; the boy I used to know definitely had the physical attributes and the drive to be an amazing athlete (unlike me). And yes, he was always popular (again, unlike me). The fact that he's grown even more so and that Rockford High is apparently his playground or "kingdom" or whatever doesn't come as a surprise either. I'm also not surprised that Seth works as a mechanic. He always did like cars and was good at tinkering with them (yep—unlike me; I'm also technologically challenged).
But what about the rest: the alleged gangbanger connections and the second "job", as a fighter? Can those be discounted as no more than malicious gossip? His car, for example, he could've simply gotten on a good deal.
"Come on, guys," says Will, "let's not fill Summer's head with thoughts of Lewis being some underground fighting champion." Then, winking at me: "He doesn't need the extra boost to his reputation."
"Speaking of reputation..." Marcie meets and holds my gaze. She isn't smiling anymore. "Seth is pretty well known as a heartless player. He's had the most beautiful girls—more, I'm sure, than he can even remember—but he's never been in a real relationship. And he's never been exclusive. None of his girls kept his interest for longer than, say, a couple of weeks."
The ache in my chest grows sharper. Has he really become such an utterly rotten guy, seducing and abandoning girls all around?
"Oh, Marcie, don't be dramatic." Dana rolls her eyes. "More girls than he can remember? Please. Seth hasn't had nearly as many girls as he could've. He's much too selective. And he may be a player but he's not heartless. He never leads girls on and he's made it perfectly clear that he's not, like, in the market for a relationship. So if, knowing this, girls still want to be with him—you know, deluding themselves that they will be the one to melt his frozen heart, or God knows what romantic bullshit... That's on their heads alone. It's not his fault that girls are always throwing themselves at him."
"Riiight, Dana," says Will, almost chocking on his sandwich. "Dude has it so bad."
She grins ironically. "I know, right? But seriously, just look at that skank Jessica just now: she's almost falling out of her halter top—if that scrap of material can even be called a top—leaning into him. And on his left, Elle is practically trying to climb on his lap."
I don't look at either Jessica or the unfamiliar Elle. I still can't tear my gaze off of Seth. I'd hoped that I would see him from a safe distance and instantly be free of him. God, I'm stupid. I'll never be free of this boy. I'll always yearn for his presence in my life.
Seeing him, hearing my table companions gossiping about him, he seems to bear little resemblance to the boy I used to know. But even so, for some illogical, unexplainable reason, he still feels like my Seth. He still feels familiar and longed for and safe. I still feel the old bond between us, tugging at me as if demanding that I go to him, that I erase the distance between us. How can I feel like this and how can he not feel the same? I cry to myself in silent despair.
And it is at that exact moment—almost as if he's felt my presence, felt my eyes on him, and cannot ignore the feeling any longer—that he turns his head and looks straight at me. Our gazes connect, and even with the distance separating us, I sense flames leaping to sudden life in his eyes. Mere seconds pass but I feel as if I've been drowning in him for an eternity. My heart is no longer aching but is singing in recognition and utter joy.
Then one of the girls at his table, obviously frustrated at his lack of attention, puts her hand on his arm with a sinuous caress. And just like that I have a volcano churning inside me, dripping lava and burning me with the fires of jealousy.
But I have no right to be jealous, for he's not mine.
And with that painful reminder, I've reached my limit. I can't take any of this any longer. I stand up and, ignoring my table companions' bewildered looks, storm out of the cafeteria.
The hallways are empty and I'm walking aimlessly, with the only thought of finding a place where I can sit down and have a good cry. Then I hear the sound of footsteps following me, getting closer to me. Panicked, I start running. But whoever is pursuing me is fast and swiftly gaining on me; they're just a few paces behind me now.
And then I hear a simple name, and I know that I cannot run anymore.
********************************************************************************
Please don't forget to vote and/or comment if you've read and liked this.