Chapter Seven

Jesse spent the night in, watching TV with Aunt Jenny and chatting with her during the commercials.

"So how come you agreed to take me in?" he asked, wiggling his can of Coke between his fingers. "I'm a pain in the ass."

Jenny chuckled.

"No, you're not," she replied. "It all fit and worked out nicely. I would much rather have you here than have some stranger come in and take care of me." She shrugged. Jesse hesitated.

"Am I going to even be any good at it, though? I mean when it… y'know, comes to it?"

She turned to him and smiled.

"Jesse, you worry too much. You'll do fine." Jenny gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder before turning her head back to the TV. "Would you like some popcorn?"

"Nah," Jesse replied. "I'm fine." His head was still reeling a little bit. Sure, this was fine. Of course this was fine, in fact it was nice. Jenny wasn't up his ass the way his parents had always been, telling him what he should be doing and what he wasn't doing well enough. But he was vaguely aware of some kind of feeling in the air that didn't quite sit right with him, like a ball that kept circling a basket but hadn't gone in yet.

After all, there was a separation between knowing that Jenny was sick, that she had cancer and was unlikely to make it through another year, and the reality behind it. Jesse had never been up close and personal with death, and he preferred to keep it that way. It had always chilled him to the bone, the thought of being there one second and then simply gone the next.

He didn't want to think that it was going to happen to her.

Jesse brushed off those thoughts and looked ahead at the screen. Family Feud was on.

"Is it just me," Jenny commented, "or has this show grown considerably more risqué in recent years?"

Jesse craned his head.

"What was the question?"

"Something you don't want your partner to talk about while having sex."

Jesse blinked.

"Yeah, I think you're right. Maybe they're trying to keep up with Newlywed Game, though."

Jenny grinned and picked her own soda off the coffee table.

"Good point. And at least this isn't that awful show… what was it called? What's the one I hate, Jesse?"

Her nephew grinned widely.

"Goddamned Tattletales."

She snapped her fingers.

"That's it! That's the worst. I don't even understand the appeal."

"That one is really stupid," Jesse agreed. "I don't know, I like the one where the contestants have to stay up late. Cram. I learned the stupidest stuff from that show." He grinned again. "Would you go on a game show with me?"

Jenny chuckled.

"Maybe. It would depend on what I'd have to do! Nothing that has to do with eating bugs."

"Okay, deal," Jesse agreed. "I will never make you go on a show where either of us has to eat any bugs."


Jesse spent the rest of the week trying to figure out how exactly he was going to win Christy Morrison's heart. He had begun to focus on and daydream about her in Mr. White's class, instead of paying attention to the man's lectures about carbons and proteins and whatever else he seemed to be on about on that particular day.

She was truly pretty; he was drawn to her oval eyes and soft-looking hair. He could imagine looping his arms over her shoulders and pulling her near, breathing in her scent.

But perhaps what was most intriguing about Christy was the fact that she didn't seem to regard Jesse at all. It wasn't as if she noticed his interest and simply ignored him; he'd had that happen more than once and it had made him feel about an inch tall.

Christy, on the other hand, would respond to his smiles with a nervous turn of her head, as if she shouldn't be caught talking to him. He didn't understand it.

Maybe, Jesse considered, she was being held captive by some kind of evil overlord, from whom only Jesse could save her. She slowly began to figure into the comics he drew, a damsel in distress.

But from what?


"Hey, guys," Jesse began as he plopped down at the cafeteria table on Day Four of Operation Christy-Watch. Paul, Gia, and Kayla looked up with vague interest. "Do any of you guys know Christy Morrison?"

Kayla snorted.

"Are you trying to hit that?"

Jesse looked mildly offended.

"I just like her," he replied.

Paul cocked his head to the side.

"I wouldn't."

"Wouldn't what?"

"Wouldn't bother," Paul explained. "Christy's got issues. Loads of 'em."

"What kind of issues?" Jesse inquired. He reached down and scooped up a bag of Funyons.

"Well, I don't know the whole story, but last year she went out with some senior guy who my brother knows. Anyway, he… beat her up or hurt her or something and, well, no one's getting near her. So don't bother. Find some other girl to try your game on, Pinkman, because you're not getting anywhere with Christy Morrison."

Jesse bit his lip and considered it.

"We'll see about that."


Jesse liked challenges. Actually, no, he didn't. He hated challenges, because he had a distinct tendency to fail at them.

So why, exactly, had he decided that he was going to keep on trying to get the girl's attention, even after Paul had warned him against it?

Because I'm an idiot, Jesse told himself. And because I just like her.

And he did. On Day Five of Operation Christy-Watch, Jesse flipped open the notebook that he had set aside for Chemistry and which contained within it exactly three lines actually about Chemistry.

He noted that Christy seemed friendly with a few of the other girls in the class – she'd waved hello to Deanna and Maya but seemed to talk the most with Pacey Anderson, the girl with short blonde hair and bright blue eyes, who was in turn, as far as Jesse could figure out, a good friend of Maya and Deanna's.

Keeping track of girls was exhausting.

Jesse knew Pacey; or rather, he knew of Pacey. They were two people who had never and would never travel in the same circle. She was extremely religious – in fact, as Jesse sketched in his notebook, she was in the midst of an argument with Mr. White about evolution. How had they gotten on the subject?

Jesse had missed that part.

"I shouldn't have to learn this if I don't believe it. Or we should teach both and let the students decide, Mr. White. Don't you think so?"

"Miss Anderson, if you want to debate the merits of Darwinism, I think you'd best do it in Biology class with Miss Franklin," Mr. White was telling her. Jesse looked up at him, and was struck for just a moment at how completely tired the man looked. As if he'd been up all night, every night of his life.

Jesse figured it was the price to pay if you decided you should become a high school teacher.

We're all a pain in the ass, he told himself, thinking of the conversation with his aunt.

Well, it was unlikely he'd get an introduction to Christy through Pacey.

He'd just have to approach her himself. Which might turn out to be easier said than done.

Jesse looked back down at his notebook. Life was way more complicated than Chemistry, anyway.