"So, how was your day?" asked my mom. We were eating McDonald's on account
of my mom forgot dinner again. I grumbled something incoherent about it
being fine. "Anything exciting happen?" she asked, making a last stab at
conversation. I had refrained from telling my parents about the asthma
attack. It would only make them worry. I shook my head and stuffed the
last of my Big Mac into my mouth. I chugged the last of my Coke, collected
all of my trash, and got up from the table.
"I'm gonna go read for a while," I muttered, shuffled to my room.
After washing my face, brushing my teeth, and getting into my PJ's, I snuggled into my quilt and opened my current book, White Oleander. Gwen read it and wanted to see the movie, so I decided to do the same, having a habit of always reading the book, if there was one, before the movie. I had been reading for about an hour when I felt a prick and a sharp pain on the underside of my wrist. I looked, bewildered, at where it hurt and found a humongous (well, I thought so at the time) spider. I gave a loud yelp and jumped out of bed, flinging the ugly thing against the wall. My mom and dad burst through the door with alarmed looks on their faces.
"What? What happened?" asked my dad, looking around my room frantically. I shook my head, suppressing a smile. My parents get so worked up over things.
"Just a spider, dad," I said, pointing to the now deceased creature on the floor. He squatted and peered interestedly at it.
"Fascinating," he muttered. I snorted.
"Dad," I began, rolling my eyes. "I have no problem with what you do for a living. But please don't observe your specimens on my floor." He grinned. "Ok, one sec," he replied, rushing out of the room. "Don't move it!" I heard him shout. I snorted again. As if I would touch the bloody thing. I glanced at my mom, who was smiling fondly at some thought in her head.
"That's how I first met your father you know," she said confidingly. I sighed mentally. Oh, great. I was dreading this moment. She continued. "We were on a field trip, and he took my picture next to one of the spiders, for the school newspaper. There were fifteen cases, supposedly with fifteen spiders, but one was missing." Her face clouded over, but the look disappeared when my dad came back into the room, holding a piece of paper and a Tupperware container. He scooped the spider up with the paper and plopped it into the container. My mom made a noise of disgust. My dad looked up, then at the dead spider, then sheepishly at my mom.
"Sorry, hun," he said. She waved him off.
"It's OK. I was going to through that thing away anyway," she replied, wrinkling her nose. I frowned jokingly and put my hands on my hips.
"You guys are worried about the Tupperware while I'm standing here in pain?" I said, grimacing theatrically and cradling my wrist. My mom rushed to me and put an arm around my shoulder.
"You're hurt, baby? Here, let mommy see," she said, taking my hand. I giggled and pulled my arm back.
"I was just kidding. It's just a spider bite. You guys are so gullible," I said. "I'm not gonna die from a little bite," I added. My mom objected and made to take my wrist for a closer look.
"She's right, dear," my dad put in. "It's not poisonous. It's just a little- " I cut him off before he could give us the Latin name and web-spinning style.
"OK, parents, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to Astrid's new foster home?" I said, hustling them out the door. "Don't worry. If my spider wound starts to fester, I'll call you."
It was around three o'clock in the morning when I woke up in a cold sweat. I couldn't tell what was wrong with me, I just didn't feel right. I rolled over onto my right side, intending to ignore it and go back to sleep, but when I flopped onto my right arm, I almost cried out. A bolt of pain shot up my arm and made my whole body shudder. My other side felt strange too. I felt very light-headed and not well at all. I tried to get up to go to the bathroom, but only succeeded in sitting up before I passed out.
"Sweetie? Jessi, wake up! You're going to be late," said a voice. It sounded slightly muffled. I opened my eyes with a struggle. I was lying on my left side with my feet hanging off the bed. I turned my attention to the voice. It was my mom, outside my door. It sounded as if she had left to do something for the moment. I groped on my bed-table for my glasses and put them on, standing up. I stretched and groaned, my back cracking from last night's sleeping position. I was going to have to wait until after school for my shower; I was already late. I looked into the mirror and frowned. It was blurry. I squinted and instinctively took my glasses off. I saw everything clearly, as if I had 20/20 vision. I put the glasses on again. Blurry. I took them off and set them on my dresser. Strange. I stumbled to the bathroom, rubbing a hand over my eyes.
After splashing my face and brushing my teeth to get rid of mouth fuzziness, I returned to my room to get dressed. I glanced out my window. It was a sunny day, and would probably get hotter. I searched through my closet and found some jeans, a tank top, sweat jacket, and sneakers. I changed into this glamorous (Ha.) outfit and surveyed myself in the mirror attached to my closet door. I froze. I looked different. My arms were bigger, more muscular. I had always been scrawny, but now I had muscles. What the-? I thought. I lifted up the front of the tank top and made a sound of disbelief. I felt a smile slowly growing on my face as I poked and prodded the rock hard abs I had somehow attained overnight. I giggled nervously. How did this happen? I shook my head and reached for the brush. This was unbelievable. How could I be flabby and skinny one day, and the next morning have abs of steel? I was grinning for ear to ear. I threw my hair into a ponytail and skipped to the kitchen.
"What's got you so giddy?" asked my dad, taking a sip of coffee. I plopped into a chair next to him. He poured some Cheerios and milk and slid it over to me. I thanked him and took a spoon. I shoved the cereal down my throat in record time and stood up, placing the spoon lightly on the table. It was stuck to my hand. I stared at it. I tried to shake it off, but it was stuck there, on the palm of my hand. I pried it off and it flew across the room, hitting the wall with a twang. Orange juice squirted out of my dad's nose and mouth. I giggled and put a hand over my mouth. "What was that Jessi?" asked my dad slowly, juice dripping from his chin. He had a weird look on his face. "Must have been glue or something sticky on the table," I mumbled, suppressing a smile. He shook his head, as though brushing away a bug. He wiped his mouth and blinked a few times, but seemed distracted. "You didn't answer my question. Usually I have to drag you to school, today you're, well, frolicking," he commented, wiping up the mess with a napkin. He was silent for a few moments, but his eyes were open wide.
"Nothing," I replied, frowning at him. "And I am not frolicking." Something I did had upset him. I shoved a piece of toast in my mouth, ignoring it. "Can we get going? I'm gonna be late." I had to talk to Gwen.
I met Gwen at our lockers, but didn't get a chance to tell her my strange news. When I spotted her, she had her back to me, digging through her locker. I tapped her on the shoulder.
"Hey!" I said, ready to tell her to squeeze my biceps. "You'll never guess what-" but I got no farther. Gwen turned to face me and I almost gasped. Instead of her usual suave, perfect appearance, her eyes were puffy, her mascara running, and a tissue clutched in her right hand.
"What happened? What's wrong?" I asked, putting an arm around her shoulders. She let out a sob, but sniffed and fought for control of her emotions.
"It's Papa," she began, then started bawling her eyes out. I patted her on the back and led her to the ladies room, making soothing noises and trying to get her to calm down.
"Ok, now tell me what happened to Papa," I said, handing her a wet paper towel. She took it gratefully and began fixing her disheveled appearance.
"He had a stroke," she said shakily. 'Papa' was Gwen's grandfather. They were very close, and I liked him a lot too.
"Oh, no," I said sympathetically. "Is he going to be OK?" Gwen shrugged.
"He's in a coma right now," she replied, her lower lip trembling. She bit it stubbornly and began taking out her make-up utensils. Within seconds, she looked beautiful as usual, with only the slightest sign of puffiness around the eyes. The bell rang.
"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "Let's go to homeroom." I had completely forgotten about my news.
I realized I had forgotten to get anything from my locker, so I had to leave Gwen and run back. I tried the combo and it didn't work. I was becoming frantic. I knew there was only about thirty seconds left until the tardy bell, and I had never been late to a class in my life. I tried and retried the combination, but it just wouldn't click. I twisted the lock until all the correct numbers were entered and pulled. Nothing happened. I lost my temper and yanked as hard as I could. The whole lock came off. I stared at the twisted metal and assorted springs sitting in my palm. How the hell had I done that? I opened the locker slowly and pulled out my books, feeling strangely detached. I, Jessica Parker, the nerdiest weakling in the whole school, had ripped a lock clear off with one pull. I stared at the lock in my hand, completely useless. I hooked it onto the locker with difficulty, finding it dimly amusing, and turned to walk back to homeroom. I was snapped out of my stupor by quizzical grey eyes, belonging to none other than Nick MacKenzie. I blinked stupidly at him and groped for an explanation. The last thing I needed was for the preps to know who I was because I was a freak.
"I, ah, I was just-" I stuttered, but he put a hand up to stop me.
"I saw," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off mine. I couldn't think of anything intelligent to say, so I remained silent, our eyes still locked together. The bell rang, making me jump. I looked around embarrassedly and pushed invisible hairs behind my ears. Nick looked around.
"You're in my homeroom. Let's go," he said, taking my arm. He paused and looked back at me, squeezing my arm slightly. He frowned, but shook his head and let go. I trotted up to his side and walked in step with him. He cocked his head at me.
"How did you do that?" he asked me with a suspicious look.
"Do what," I said unconvincingly, avoiding his gaze. He grinned wryly at me.
"You know what. That new way of opening a locker? And going from, ah, you know...to Xena warrior princess, overnight?" he replied. I shrugged, hiding a smile at the visual that came to mind at the Xena remark. Me in leather. I almost laughed out loud. Instead, I answered.
"I honestly have no idea. I just woke up this morning and... well..." I trailed off helplessly. I don't know why, but I knew that he wasn't going to tell anyone, or think I was scary. We were silent for a moment, and I was walking in step with him, fighting the urge to sprint to homeroom.
"You're in two other of my classes," Nick said suddenly. I nodded. "Math and P.E. You're really smart, I don't know why you're in that dumb class," he went on. I didn't know what to say again, so I shrugged.
"You'd be good at school too if you'd show up to class on time," I replied tartly, forgetting for a moment that this was the guy I had worshipped since 9th grade. He laughed surprisedly, and I turned red. He glanced appreciatively at me.
"We've been at school together since 9th grade and I've never heard you say more than two words," he said, still chuckling. We reached the classroom and I stood beside Nick, grateful that I wouldn't have to go through Ms. Stanford's wrath alone.
"MacKenzie!" she shouted, looking slightly apoplectic. I glanced at Nick, who looked rather bored. "It is only the second day of school and you are dangerously close to detention, young man." Her eyes flickered to me and she did a double take. She grabbed her roll sheet, shaking her head. "I would expect this from him," she paused, nodding sharply at Nick, "but not from you, Ms. Parker. Take a seat, both of you." I walked calmly to my seat next to Gwen, enjoying the wide-eyed look on her face. Ms. Stanford called the class to order before I could explain anything. When the lunch bell rang, I met Gwen at our locker.
"What happened?!" Gwen asked, grabbing my arm and leading me toward the cafeteria. She frowned and her jaw dropped. She squeezed my arm slightly and looked at me, thoroughly confused. I giggled and almost let myself go hysterical, but instead took a deep breath and grinned widely. "It's not just that you were late, but that you walked in late with Nick MacKenzie," she said, still astonished. We sat down at our usual table in the corner, me with a soda from home, because there wasn't a machine at school, and money to buy lunch, Gwen with sushi and lemonade. I nodded, and proceeded to tell her about my locker incident and the walk with Nick, conveniently leaving out the only thing I couldn't possibly explain, my ripping the lock off. When I was finished, she just sat there with her mouth open. "You have never even said something that sarcastic to me." She looked at me slyly, and nudged me in the ribs. "Didn't I say this was your year?" I rolled my eyes. "And by the way, did I mention you are lookin' buff today!"
"I know, it's weird," I said, examining my biceps. I held them out for her to squeeze. She did, and giggled. "I woke up this morning, put on my glasses, and everything was blurry. I took them off, and it was clear. Kinda creepy," I ended, my skin prickling with goosbumps. Not because I was cold, but because something very strange was happening in my head. Like a memory, I "saw" someone trip and his lunch tray go flying. I saw Nick MacKenzie, standing directly in the line of fire and get grape juice and mashed potatoes spilled all down his front. He looked mortified, an emotion I had never seen on that face. I tried to shake the strange and unwelcome feeling, but it sat there like pot roast for dinner that you know you will have to eventually eat. I pushed away my Coke and got up suddenly. I frowned.
"What are you doing?" she asked. "Oh, buying lunch, well, hurry back, I want to hear more about your day." I stumbled away, blinking stupidly at the continuous picture in my mind. I joined the line of students waiting patiently for the line to move forward. I remembered my dad saying something about "cows" when we went shopping for Christmas gifts, standing in lines out the door and huddling together for warmth. I saw a latecomer out of the corner of my eye and turned to see who it was. The wave of a premonition came over me, stronger than before, as I recognized it to be Nick. I also saw the guy in my dream, the memory of something that I had never really saw. As though in slow motion, the guy turned to walk out the door, still laughing and talking with his friend, not seeing who was in front of him. Nick, who was searching for his group of friends, hadn't seen the person about to crash into him. I stared, wide-eyed, at what was happening before my eyes. Without thinking, I shoved through the people who had formed a line behind me, moving more quickly and deftly than I had thought possible. Nick saw me coming toward him and smiled with recognition. I didn't smile back, intent on my mission. I reached him and jerked him forward. He tripped slightly, but caught his balance.
"Hey, what the -," he started to say. I vaguely saw over his shoulder, the guy tripping, his tray flying across the threshold of the cafeteria. I realized that I was still holding onto Nick's jacket, a bit closely. I let go, finally coming down to earth. He turned around in time to see the tray crash against the wall, the guy get up and brush himself off, still laughing with his friend. He stared at the food splattered on the wall for a few moments, realizing that I had just saved him from public embarrassment. He groped for words. Katelyn was suddenly at his side, her arms around his neck, all concerns and sympathy.
"Oh, Nick are you all right?" she asked, making her lips pout, something I had never bothered to learn. "Come sit down. Jay brought Pepsis today." He resisted her for a moment, still trying to say thank you. Suddenly, the scene was making me sick. I could no longer stand her graceful, flawless arms stroking the edge of his jacket, the acrylic nails toying with the zipper. I stared into Nick's eyes, silently questioning him. How can you stand her? I asked him. As though he had heard me, his cheeks turned slightly pink. He turned his eyes away. You wouldn't understand, he replied silently. "Thanks," he muttered. I turned away, quite rudely, but I couldn't stand it anymore. I resumed my place at the back of the line and heard them walking away. Her fake concern, the click of her platform shoes on tile. It wasn't herself exactly that repulsed me. It was the thought that deep inside, I wanted to be her. She was the special person, the beautiful one, the one everyone else worshipped. I envied her, though I knew I shouldn't. She had no brains, no substance to her life. But she also had the body, with a flat stomach and perfect tan. Well, I had the flat stomach thing down, I thought ruefully. I would show all of them, I retorted stubbornly. I would be the one on Leno, talking about my latest novel, while she watched me on a 58-inch television with her drunk husband and five kids. I would be the one envied. I got my lunch, not paying attention to what it really was, paid for it, and walked back to where Gwen was sitting. She spread her hands out on the table as I picked at my half- pizza, half-grease.
"Did I just see, what I think I saw?" she asked, staring at me with wide green eyes. "You just saved Nick MacKenzie's life!"
"You're over exaggerating again, Guinevere," I said grumpily. I saw her cringe. She hated that almost as much as Amanda.
"Ooh. Touché hun," she replied appreciatively. I smiled slightly. She let it go. "So. What do you want to do this weekend?"
I shrugged, and she went off in a long list of movies she had been dying to see, things she had to do at the mall. Some days Gwen Fortunato could really get on my nerves, but right now, I needed her to talk. To fill the silence that was a reminder of my lack of social, well, lack of social anything. My eyes drifted across the room, looking at the students laughing and chattering. Were they trying to fill the emptiness too? Every once in a while, I would make eye contact with someone. Someone who noticed the change in my appearance, or was just randomly staring. They all averted their eyes embarrassedly. My gaze was drawn to that of Nick MacKenzie. He didn't look away though. Oddly enough, I wasn't embarrassed, didn't pretend that I wasn't looking at him. He raised a can of Pepsi, silently toasting, offering apology and thanks. I held up my Coke, smiling slightly. I forgave him. Gave him a chance to make a new impression, correct the one of snobby popular jock with the 'I'm-better-than-you' attitude. I found it a bit strange that he would give me the time of day, that he cared what I thought of him. The bell rang, and I looked at Gwen, who was still chattering away about her plans for the weekend. I dumped my barely touched lunch and walked tiredly to fifth period. This teen stuff was making me very weary lately.
"I'm gonna go read for a while," I muttered, shuffled to my room.
After washing my face, brushing my teeth, and getting into my PJ's, I snuggled into my quilt and opened my current book, White Oleander. Gwen read it and wanted to see the movie, so I decided to do the same, having a habit of always reading the book, if there was one, before the movie. I had been reading for about an hour when I felt a prick and a sharp pain on the underside of my wrist. I looked, bewildered, at where it hurt and found a humongous (well, I thought so at the time) spider. I gave a loud yelp and jumped out of bed, flinging the ugly thing against the wall. My mom and dad burst through the door with alarmed looks on their faces.
"What? What happened?" asked my dad, looking around my room frantically. I shook my head, suppressing a smile. My parents get so worked up over things.
"Just a spider, dad," I said, pointing to the now deceased creature on the floor. He squatted and peered interestedly at it.
"Fascinating," he muttered. I snorted.
"Dad," I began, rolling my eyes. "I have no problem with what you do for a living. But please don't observe your specimens on my floor." He grinned. "Ok, one sec," he replied, rushing out of the room. "Don't move it!" I heard him shout. I snorted again. As if I would touch the bloody thing. I glanced at my mom, who was smiling fondly at some thought in her head.
"That's how I first met your father you know," she said confidingly. I sighed mentally. Oh, great. I was dreading this moment. She continued. "We were on a field trip, and he took my picture next to one of the spiders, for the school newspaper. There were fifteen cases, supposedly with fifteen spiders, but one was missing." Her face clouded over, but the look disappeared when my dad came back into the room, holding a piece of paper and a Tupperware container. He scooped the spider up with the paper and plopped it into the container. My mom made a noise of disgust. My dad looked up, then at the dead spider, then sheepishly at my mom.
"Sorry, hun," he said. She waved him off.
"It's OK. I was going to through that thing away anyway," she replied, wrinkling her nose. I frowned jokingly and put my hands on my hips.
"You guys are worried about the Tupperware while I'm standing here in pain?" I said, grimacing theatrically and cradling my wrist. My mom rushed to me and put an arm around my shoulder.
"You're hurt, baby? Here, let mommy see," she said, taking my hand. I giggled and pulled my arm back.
"I was just kidding. It's just a spider bite. You guys are so gullible," I said. "I'm not gonna die from a little bite," I added. My mom objected and made to take my wrist for a closer look.
"She's right, dear," my dad put in. "It's not poisonous. It's just a little- " I cut him off before he could give us the Latin name and web-spinning style.
"OK, parents, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to Astrid's new foster home?" I said, hustling them out the door. "Don't worry. If my spider wound starts to fester, I'll call you."
It was around three o'clock in the morning when I woke up in a cold sweat. I couldn't tell what was wrong with me, I just didn't feel right. I rolled over onto my right side, intending to ignore it and go back to sleep, but when I flopped onto my right arm, I almost cried out. A bolt of pain shot up my arm and made my whole body shudder. My other side felt strange too. I felt very light-headed and not well at all. I tried to get up to go to the bathroom, but only succeeded in sitting up before I passed out.
"Sweetie? Jessi, wake up! You're going to be late," said a voice. It sounded slightly muffled. I opened my eyes with a struggle. I was lying on my left side with my feet hanging off the bed. I turned my attention to the voice. It was my mom, outside my door. It sounded as if she had left to do something for the moment. I groped on my bed-table for my glasses and put them on, standing up. I stretched and groaned, my back cracking from last night's sleeping position. I was going to have to wait until after school for my shower; I was already late. I looked into the mirror and frowned. It was blurry. I squinted and instinctively took my glasses off. I saw everything clearly, as if I had 20/20 vision. I put the glasses on again. Blurry. I took them off and set them on my dresser. Strange. I stumbled to the bathroom, rubbing a hand over my eyes.
After splashing my face and brushing my teeth to get rid of mouth fuzziness, I returned to my room to get dressed. I glanced out my window. It was a sunny day, and would probably get hotter. I searched through my closet and found some jeans, a tank top, sweat jacket, and sneakers. I changed into this glamorous (Ha.) outfit and surveyed myself in the mirror attached to my closet door. I froze. I looked different. My arms were bigger, more muscular. I had always been scrawny, but now I had muscles. What the-? I thought. I lifted up the front of the tank top and made a sound of disbelief. I felt a smile slowly growing on my face as I poked and prodded the rock hard abs I had somehow attained overnight. I giggled nervously. How did this happen? I shook my head and reached for the brush. This was unbelievable. How could I be flabby and skinny one day, and the next morning have abs of steel? I was grinning for ear to ear. I threw my hair into a ponytail and skipped to the kitchen.
"What's got you so giddy?" asked my dad, taking a sip of coffee. I plopped into a chair next to him. He poured some Cheerios and milk and slid it over to me. I thanked him and took a spoon. I shoved the cereal down my throat in record time and stood up, placing the spoon lightly on the table. It was stuck to my hand. I stared at it. I tried to shake it off, but it was stuck there, on the palm of my hand. I pried it off and it flew across the room, hitting the wall with a twang. Orange juice squirted out of my dad's nose and mouth. I giggled and put a hand over my mouth. "What was that Jessi?" asked my dad slowly, juice dripping from his chin. He had a weird look on his face. "Must have been glue or something sticky on the table," I mumbled, suppressing a smile. He shook his head, as though brushing away a bug. He wiped his mouth and blinked a few times, but seemed distracted. "You didn't answer my question. Usually I have to drag you to school, today you're, well, frolicking," he commented, wiping up the mess with a napkin. He was silent for a few moments, but his eyes were open wide.
"Nothing," I replied, frowning at him. "And I am not frolicking." Something I did had upset him. I shoved a piece of toast in my mouth, ignoring it. "Can we get going? I'm gonna be late." I had to talk to Gwen.
I met Gwen at our lockers, but didn't get a chance to tell her my strange news. When I spotted her, she had her back to me, digging through her locker. I tapped her on the shoulder.
"Hey!" I said, ready to tell her to squeeze my biceps. "You'll never guess what-" but I got no farther. Gwen turned to face me and I almost gasped. Instead of her usual suave, perfect appearance, her eyes were puffy, her mascara running, and a tissue clutched in her right hand.
"What happened? What's wrong?" I asked, putting an arm around her shoulders. She let out a sob, but sniffed and fought for control of her emotions.
"It's Papa," she began, then started bawling her eyes out. I patted her on the back and led her to the ladies room, making soothing noises and trying to get her to calm down.
"Ok, now tell me what happened to Papa," I said, handing her a wet paper towel. She took it gratefully and began fixing her disheveled appearance.
"He had a stroke," she said shakily. 'Papa' was Gwen's grandfather. They were very close, and I liked him a lot too.
"Oh, no," I said sympathetically. "Is he going to be OK?" Gwen shrugged.
"He's in a coma right now," she replied, her lower lip trembling. She bit it stubbornly and began taking out her make-up utensils. Within seconds, she looked beautiful as usual, with only the slightest sign of puffiness around the eyes. The bell rang.
"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "Let's go to homeroom." I had completely forgotten about my news.
I realized I had forgotten to get anything from my locker, so I had to leave Gwen and run back. I tried the combo and it didn't work. I was becoming frantic. I knew there was only about thirty seconds left until the tardy bell, and I had never been late to a class in my life. I tried and retried the combination, but it just wouldn't click. I twisted the lock until all the correct numbers were entered and pulled. Nothing happened. I lost my temper and yanked as hard as I could. The whole lock came off. I stared at the twisted metal and assorted springs sitting in my palm. How the hell had I done that? I opened the locker slowly and pulled out my books, feeling strangely detached. I, Jessica Parker, the nerdiest weakling in the whole school, had ripped a lock clear off with one pull. I stared at the lock in my hand, completely useless. I hooked it onto the locker with difficulty, finding it dimly amusing, and turned to walk back to homeroom. I was snapped out of my stupor by quizzical grey eyes, belonging to none other than Nick MacKenzie. I blinked stupidly at him and groped for an explanation. The last thing I needed was for the preps to know who I was because I was a freak.
"I, ah, I was just-" I stuttered, but he put a hand up to stop me.
"I saw," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off mine. I couldn't think of anything intelligent to say, so I remained silent, our eyes still locked together. The bell rang, making me jump. I looked around embarrassedly and pushed invisible hairs behind my ears. Nick looked around.
"You're in my homeroom. Let's go," he said, taking my arm. He paused and looked back at me, squeezing my arm slightly. He frowned, but shook his head and let go. I trotted up to his side and walked in step with him. He cocked his head at me.
"How did you do that?" he asked me with a suspicious look.
"Do what," I said unconvincingly, avoiding his gaze. He grinned wryly at me.
"You know what. That new way of opening a locker? And going from, ah, you know...to Xena warrior princess, overnight?" he replied. I shrugged, hiding a smile at the visual that came to mind at the Xena remark. Me in leather. I almost laughed out loud. Instead, I answered.
"I honestly have no idea. I just woke up this morning and... well..." I trailed off helplessly. I don't know why, but I knew that he wasn't going to tell anyone, or think I was scary. We were silent for a moment, and I was walking in step with him, fighting the urge to sprint to homeroom.
"You're in two other of my classes," Nick said suddenly. I nodded. "Math and P.E. You're really smart, I don't know why you're in that dumb class," he went on. I didn't know what to say again, so I shrugged.
"You'd be good at school too if you'd show up to class on time," I replied tartly, forgetting for a moment that this was the guy I had worshipped since 9th grade. He laughed surprisedly, and I turned red. He glanced appreciatively at me.
"We've been at school together since 9th grade and I've never heard you say more than two words," he said, still chuckling. We reached the classroom and I stood beside Nick, grateful that I wouldn't have to go through Ms. Stanford's wrath alone.
"MacKenzie!" she shouted, looking slightly apoplectic. I glanced at Nick, who looked rather bored. "It is only the second day of school and you are dangerously close to detention, young man." Her eyes flickered to me and she did a double take. She grabbed her roll sheet, shaking her head. "I would expect this from him," she paused, nodding sharply at Nick, "but not from you, Ms. Parker. Take a seat, both of you." I walked calmly to my seat next to Gwen, enjoying the wide-eyed look on her face. Ms. Stanford called the class to order before I could explain anything. When the lunch bell rang, I met Gwen at our locker.
"What happened?!" Gwen asked, grabbing my arm and leading me toward the cafeteria. She frowned and her jaw dropped. She squeezed my arm slightly and looked at me, thoroughly confused. I giggled and almost let myself go hysterical, but instead took a deep breath and grinned widely. "It's not just that you were late, but that you walked in late with Nick MacKenzie," she said, still astonished. We sat down at our usual table in the corner, me with a soda from home, because there wasn't a machine at school, and money to buy lunch, Gwen with sushi and lemonade. I nodded, and proceeded to tell her about my locker incident and the walk with Nick, conveniently leaving out the only thing I couldn't possibly explain, my ripping the lock off. When I was finished, she just sat there with her mouth open. "You have never even said something that sarcastic to me." She looked at me slyly, and nudged me in the ribs. "Didn't I say this was your year?" I rolled my eyes. "And by the way, did I mention you are lookin' buff today!"
"I know, it's weird," I said, examining my biceps. I held them out for her to squeeze. She did, and giggled. "I woke up this morning, put on my glasses, and everything was blurry. I took them off, and it was clear. Kinda creepy," I ended, my skin prickling with goosbumps. Not because I was cold, but because something very strange was happening in my head. Like a memory, I "saw" someone trip and his lunch tray go flying. I saw Nick MacKenzie, standing directly in the line of fire and get grape juice and mashed potatoes spilled all down his front. He looked mortified, an emotion I had never seen on that face. I tried to shake the strange and unwelcome feeling, but it sat there like pot roast for dinner that you know you will have to eventually eat. I pushed away my Coke and got up suddenly. I frowned.
"What are you doing?" she asked. "Oh, buying lunch, well, hurry back, I want to hear more about your day." I stumbled away, blinking stupidly at the continuous picture in my mind. I joined the line of students waiting patiently for the line to move forward. I remembered my dad saying something about "cows" when we went shopping for Christmas gifts, standing in lines out the door and huddling together for warmth. I saw a latecomer out of the corner of my eye and turned to see who it was. The wave of a premonition came over me, stronger than before, as I recognized it to be Nick. I also saw the guy in my dream, the memory of something that I had never really saw. As though in slow motion, the guy turned to walk out the door, still laughing and talking with his friend, not seeing who was in front of him. Nick, who was searching for his group of friends, hadn't seen the person about to crash into him. I stared, wide-eyed, at what was happening before my eyes. Without thinking, I shoved through the people who had formed a line behind me, moving more quickly and deftly than I had thought possible. Nick saw me coming toward him and smiled with recognition. I didn't smile back, intent on my mission. I reached him and jerked him forward. He tripped slightly, but caught his balance.
"Hey, what the -," he started to say. I vaguely saw over his shoulder, the guy tripping, his tray flying across the threshold of the cafeteria. I realized that I was still holding onto Nick's jacket, a bit closely. I let go, finally coming down to earth. He turned around in time to see the tray crash against the wall, the guy get up and brush himself off, still laughing with his friend. He stared at the food splattered on the wall for a few moments, realizing that I had just saved him from public embarrassment. He groped for words. Katelyn was suddenly at his side, her arms around his neck, all concerns and sympathy.
"Oh, Nick are you all right?" she asked, making her lips pout, something I had never bothered to learn. "Come sit down. Jay brought Pepsis today." He resisted her for a moment, still trying to say thank you. Suddenly, the scene was making me sick. I could no longer stand her graceful, flawless arms stroking the edge of his jacket, the acrylic nails toying with the zipper. I stared into Nick's eyes, silently questioning him. How can you stand her? I asked him. As though he had heard me, his cheeks turned slightly pink. He turned his eyes away. You wouldn't understand, he replied silently. "Thanks," he muttered. I turned away, quite rudely, but I couldn't stand it anymore. I resumed my place at the back of the line and heard them walking away. Her fake concern, the click of her platform shoes on tile. It wasn't herself exactly that repulsed me. It was the thought that deep inside, I wanted to be her. She was the special person, the beautiful one, the one everyone else worshipped. I envied her, though I knew I shouldn't. She had no brains, no substance to her life. But she also had the body, with a flat stomach and perfect tan. Well, I had the flat stomach thing down, I thought ruefully. I would show all of them, I retorted stubbornly. I would be the one on Leno, talking about my latest novel, while she watched me on a 58-inch television with her drunk husband and five kids. I would be the one envied. I got my lunch, not paying attention to what it really was, paid for it, and walked back to where Gwen was sitting. She spread her hands out on the table as I picked at my half- pizza, half-grease.
"Did I just see, what I think I saw?" she asked, staring at me with wide green eyes. "You just saved Nick MacKenzie's life!"
"You're over exaggerating again, Guinevere," I said grumpily. I saw her cringe. She hated that almost as much as Amanda.
"Ooh. Touché hun," she replied appreciatively. I smiled slightly. She let it go. "So. What do you want to do this weekend?"
I shrugged, and she went off in a long list of movies she had been dying to see, things she had to do at the mall. Some days Gwen Fortunato could really get on my nerves, but right now, I needed her to talk. To fill the silence that was a reminder of my lack of social, well, lack of social anything. My eyes drifted across the room, looking at the students laughing and chattering. Were they trying to fill the emptiness too? Every once in a while, I would make eye contact with someone. Someone who noticed the change in my appearance, or was just randomly staring. They all averted their eyes embarrassedly. My gaze was drawn to that of Nick MacKenzie. He didn't look away though. Oddly enough, I wasn't embarrassed, didn't pretend that I wasn't looking at him. He raised a can of Pepsi, silently toasting, offering apology and thanks. I held up my Coke, smiling slightly. I forgave him. Gave him a chance to make a new impression, correct the one of snobby popular jock with the 'I'm-better-than-you' attitude. I found it a bit strange that he would give me the time of day, that he cared what I thought of him. The bell rang, and I looked at Gwen, who was still chattering away about her plans for the weekend. I dumped my barely touched lunch and walked tiredly to fifth period. This teen stuff was making me very weary lately.