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Chapter 5
30 September 2011
Mr. Jefferson stares out at the class, looking as tired as you'd expect a high school Government teacher to be in 6th period on a Friday. A bunch of teenagers are basically regressing to kindergarten-levels of immaturity here.
"Hey, guys? Can you be quiet, please?" Mr. Jefferson is looking directly at the back row. This happens every class, because basketball players with inflated egos are too cool to pay attention, obviously.
I sigh, leaning closer to my desk as I scribble notes. I hate sitting at the back with them. Assigned seating has never been my friend, and putting me next to Mike Newton proved that indisputably.
Well, almost right next to. The seat on my left was never filled, so I took it over. My old seat is now the buffer zone between me and the moron. I squeeze as close to the wall as I can, doing everything in my power to tune out the constant droning about basketball.
Sometimes I fantasize about telling them exactly where they can shove their precious basketballs, but I don't think that would end well for me. It would also seriously interfere with my need to be invisible at all times.
Mr. Jefferson has just turned back to the board when Austin Marks erupts into loud laughter. The whole class looks over their shoulders, and Mr. Jefferson's nostrils flare. Not once, but twice.
"I'm sorry, Austin, I didn't realize election law was so funny."
Austin shakes his head as the rest of the class titters. "Sorry, Mr. Jefferson," he says. Tyler pushes his shoulder, laughing.
I take a slow, deep breath and count to ten. Today is already dragging - there's really no need for Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest to extend it.
Because I have a mission today: stop being an asshole.
I've had a lot of time to think since Saturday, when Edward made me realize just how bad a friend I can be sometimes. And while I did spend the first chunk of that time berating myself for being awful, I did eventually force myself to take a step back and look at the situation objectively.
What I saw was this: I am selfish and awful and awkward. And it's a totally fixable situation. The first step? Hanging out at Edward's house without being weird.
Totally doable.
I've barely seen Edward all week, and haven't had the chance to ask him yet, but I've decided today is definitely the day. He has basketball practice after school, and I have chess club. We'll end up leaving at around the same time, and if I can just find a minute to talk to him alone, I'll be able to ask him.
Because I can do this. I can not be an asshole.
A slight movement to my right makes me look over. Mike's got his phone out, and he's showing Tyler something. Before I can roll my eyes and turn away, Mike looks up, as if feeling my gaze. His expression immediately goes hard, and with raised eyebrows he mouths, "What?"
Face flushing, I look back down at my notes. Mike whispers something to the others, and they snicker quietly. My cheeks burn hotter, almost painfully so. Shit. My blind spot powers are really crapping out on me lately.
I try to ignore them for the rest of the lesson, doing my best to focus on what Mr. Jefferson is saying, but by the end of it, my notes are half-assed at best, and I'm still wondering what Mike whispered about me. I really hope this won't be the start of one of his 'Pick on a nerd' periods, because I have enough on my plate as it is.
"Right, before you all go," Mr. Jefferson says as everyone starts packing up their stuff in anticipation of the bell, "I'm just going to hand back your tests from last week. I was quite impressed by some of you, so well done."
He turns back to his desk and gathers up a thick bunch of papers. "As always, Bella scored the top marks," he comments, unnecessarily gesturing at me. Half the class throw disinterested glances over their shoulders, and the rest ignore it. "Really well done, Bella."
I bob my head awkwardly, hoping he'll understand he needs to stop.
To my right, another round of whispering prickles against my ears, followed by Mike chortling. I glance at him, and he's looking right at me, a smirk on his face pairing with arrogant eyebrows.
Mr. Jefferson walks down between the desks, handing back everyone's tests. He smiles proudly when he places mine in front of me, rapping his knuckles over the twice-circled A+ in the corner. "Perfect score. Well done."
Mike bursts out laughing over something, leaning over Tyler to give Austin a punch on the shoulder, and Mr. Jefferson sighs slowly as he walks over to their desks.
Placing their tests down one by one, he shakes his head with a rueful smile. "The good thing is that these are definitely not your worst ever scores. Although whether that's something to be proud of I'll leave up to you decide."
Mike doesn't even glance at his test before shoving it into his bag. Mr. Jefferson sighs again. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to make an effort, Newton," he says, clearly thinking this is something Mike might take to heart. "You should try to be a bit more like Bella," he adds, once again unnecessarily gesturing to me with a proud smile.
Mike snorts, pushing back from the desk. "Yeah, definitely no thanks on that one," he says. A few of our classmates snicker, and my face burns sickeningly hot.
The bell rings, and Mike stands, swinging his bag onto his shoulder. He throws me one last smirk before leading the flood of people heading for the door, with Austin clapping him on the shoulder. Mr. Jefferson stares after them with a baffled expression.
I grab my things with slightly shaking hands, pointedly not looking at anyone. "Have a good weekend," I mumble to Mr. Jefferson as I hurry past, letting my hair swing forward to hide my burning cheeks.
I go to my locker, dumping everything inside before I duck into the bathroom. Locking myself in one of the stalls, I sit down on the closed toilet lid and check my watch. I can stay here for five minutes, let the hallways clear out as everyone rushes home. Then I'll have just enough time to get to the classroom on the other side of the building where we meet for chess club.
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees with a deep sigh. Seriously crappy blind spot powers today. Fucking Mike Newton.
I push the five minutes as thin as I can, listening as the bustle in the hall steadily quiets. I finally force myself to slip out, but not before taking another minute to wash my hands and run my fingers through my hair to get a knot out.
I'm relieved to find the hallway empty, and I go back to my locker to grab my bag and chess set. I check my phone, chewing my lip as I deliberate whether to text Edward. I could ask him over text if we can hang out.
I shut my locker and head down the hallway. I don't know if I should text him now, or after the meeting. What would be best? I bring up our messages and stare at the keyboard. Texting's fine, right? I wanted to ask him in person, but maybe banking on seeing him in between when practice ends and he goes home is being a bit optimistic.
As I approach the corner, someone comes hurtling round it and smacks right into me. I yelp and drop my phone as the force propels me backwards and a shoulder catches me on the chin. I hear an "Oof!" next to my ear. Hands clamp down around my waist, and as the person stumbles forward, I catch sight of familiar auburn hair inches from my face.
Oh god.
We stagger backwards, the momentum bringing him too close. All I can imagine is falling and splitting my head open. Blood and brain matter everywhere.
But then Edward plants his foot, and with a jolt, we go from teetering on the edge to standing steady, his leg in between mine and a firm arm around my back. Breath caught in my throat, I stare wildly, clutching his shirt.
Laughter immediately erupts behind him.
Fumbling, I step back, pulling away from his hands. His eyes are wide as they meet mine.
"Dude, nice one!" Emmett says. I glance over at the group of guys standing behind him, all laughing.
Of course Mike Newton would be one of them. Of course Tyler and Austin would be there, too. Of course it's practically the whole freaking basketball team.
Well. Today kind of sucks.
"Sorry, I—" I croak out, purposefully not looking at either him or his teammates. My chin throbs dully. Christ, I could've bitten my tongue off.
"No, god, that was my fault," Edward says. "I shouldn't have been running. Are you okay?"
"Dude, did you see that?" Mike crows, and I clench my jaw.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, bending down to grab my phone. Shit, please be okay.
Edward's eyes widen. "Oh shit, I'm sorry. Is your phone okay? Guys, would you shut up?" he snaps, glaring over his shoulder.
I turn it on - it seems fine. The screen's not broken, thank god. "Yeah, it's fine. Thanks," I mumble, glancing at him with a strained smile. Mike's still laughing to himself, and I've immediately had just about enough of his dumb face for today.
I swallow, edging around Edward. Now that he's here, I don't really want to go; we've seen so little of each other this week. But I can't talk to him in front of his friends, and when his eyes meet mine for a split second, I know he understands.
"I, uhm, sorry. Again. I wasn't— I didn't see where I was going," I mutter, and it's so hard to treat him so politely, so not like I normally would.
Before he can say anything else, I walk away, tucking my phone away in my bag. Guess I'll be texting him after the meeting.
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Chess club is excruciating. Ben and Eric won't stop arguing about whose car we should take to a tournament in Port Townsend in two weeks, Angela's ignoring them and doing her homework, and Garrett's reading War and Peace in Russian, for fun. I'm just sitting here, not texting Edward.
"But your car smells like Cheetos!" Ben yells, for the fifth time. I rub my temples. This is going well.
At the end of the meeting, all we've accomplished is putting the car-issue to a vote where Ben wins, leading to Eric sulking gracelessly. While everyone starts putting their stuff away, I suck it up and grab my phone. I keep it nice and short:
Meet at my locker?
I don't expect a reply, and put it away again.
"See you guys later," I say as we all file out of the room.
Angela hooks her thumb over her shoulder, where the guys are already heading for the front doors. "Aren't you coming?"
"Yeah, I just have to grab some stuff from my locker."
"Oh, okay." She hesitates, looking as if she's going to say something else, but then just smiles, and gives me a nod. "Okay, well… Have a nice weekend."
"Yeah, you too," I say, feeling torn as she waves and walks after the guys; she hurries up to Ben and takes his hand, leaning into his side a little. It's probably not the best sign that none of them offered to wait for me. I would've told them not to, of course, but still.
I know it's partly my fault. I'm not the best at encouraging friendship, and I've learned never to expect people to offer it when they get nothing in return.
But still.
I hate when Mom's right.
Shaking it all off as best I can, I head back towards my locker. Rounding the corner - cautiously - I'm not expecting Edward to already be there, so the sight of him leaning against it makes my stomach jump in surprise. His hair is still damp from showering, and his gym bag lies in a heap on the floor. I feel myself smiling genuinely for the first time today.
He looks up when I get close, and the way he smiles back at me makes my lungs feel funny, like they're filled with feathers, tickling soft.
"Hey," he says, straightening up and tucking his phone back in his pocket
"Hi," I say. "Did you get out of practice early or something?"
"Yeah, apparently Coach's dog-sitter had to bail on him, so he had to cut things short."
Coach has a corgi named Henning; they take a walk around town every day, and the dog legit has a little bow tie on his collar. It's hilarious.
"Oh, cool," I say, opening my locker so I can grab my things.
"Yeah. So why am I meeting you here, exactly?"
My stomach jumps again. I've rehearsed this moment so many times during the week, but I can't remember anything I settled on now.
I look up at him. With his hair slightly darker, the green in his eyes stands out more than usual. He leans against the locker next to mine, and he seems very tall, all of a sudden.
"I, uh… Well, I wanted to see if— if, you know, if maybe you wanted to hang out. Today." I grope blindly inside my locker. I'm fucking this up. I was supposed to be all cool and relaxed. "At, uh, at your… house?"
He slowly breaks out in a wide grin. "You wanna come over to my house?"
"If that's all right," I say, finally grabbing the notebook I was looking for. "If you're not busy."
"I'm not busy, and that's more than all right," he says. "Mom went grocery shopping at that new store in Port Angeles yesterday, so we have so much food. She got these insane bagels, you have to try them."
"Not really the reason I wanted to come over, but okay."
He's still smiling. "Okay."
"Okay." I wait for something more to happen, but he just… keeps smiling. Several seconds pass. Still smiling. "I'm so confused right now."
"What? I'm just excited about the bagels. Got all your stuff?" He leans forward, peeking inside my locker.
"Yeah, I think so."
"Great. Let's go." He pushes off the lockers and heaves his gym bag over his shoulder. I open my mouth, ready to stop him, to tell him we need to wait a few more minutes, because there's no way the whole basketball team have left yet, and the guys from chess club are probably still there, and what if they see us?
But he stops and turns back to wait for me, still smiling, still so excited, and the words slowly dissolve into nothing. I close my mouth and smile back, instead. This is where I don't freak out.
This is where I don't act like an asshole.
I fall into step beside him, taking a deep breath to prepare for what I'm about to do next. "I, uh, I'm going to stop by my house first, to drop off my stuff."
"Okay," he says, seriously still smiling. I find this cuter than I probably should.
"And to, uh, tell Mom where I'm going." I glance at him, pressing my lips together as I wait for his reaction.
Impossibly, his smile gets even wider, his eyes squinting happily. He watches me for a few seconds, shaking his head. He totally gets it. "Where is this coming from?"
I shrug. "Nowhere. I've just been thinking a lot this week—"
"You should try that more often."
"Shut up. I've been thinking a lot this week, and everything we talked about on Saturday made a lot of sense. And it just… I know this is important. To you. So now it's important to me too, and if we can not make a big deal about it, that would be great." Fuck, I'm blushing. Ignore it, he can't tell.
He gets a slight strut in his step. "All right. I can do that."
"Good. Thanks."
He bumps my shoulder with his own, that barely contained grin still on his face. I'm tempted to tell him he's ridiculous, but I can't deny it makes me happy to see him so happy. The feathers make another swirl through my chest, and I take a slow, deep breath.
"I'm sorry about earlier," he says, when we turn the last corner before the doors. "When I bumped into you."
"I think you mean crashed."
"I didn't hurt you, right?" he asks, ignoring me. Giving me a critical once-over, he points at my jaw. "Felt like I got some of that with my shoulder."
I shake my head, touching the skin lightly. "No, I'm all right. I mean, you cracked a few of my ribs, but I've had worse."
"Ha-ha." He rolls his eyes, and reaches for the door. Stepping through, he holds it open for me. I cast a quick glance across the parking lot; it's magically empty. "I'm being serious."
"I know."
He grumbles something I can't hear, and ambles down the steps ahead of me.
His car is closest to the entrance - I always park my truck as far away as I can. When we reach his, he stops, jingling his keys in his palm. "So…"
"I was thinking that we could go to my house, first." I say it quickly, because otherwise I'm going to chicken out. "D'you wanna just… I'll leave my truck and everything, and then we can head over to yours."
The sun breaks out between the clouds for a moment, and he grins in a lopsided kind of way, one eye shut against the brightness. "Okay."
"Okay." I nod awkwardly. "So, uhm… Right. I'll just…" I point to my truck. "And, uh… Okay."
I don't wait for him to tease me, and instead turn on my heel and head over to my truck. None of this is going how I rehearsed it. But Edward seems happy, which really was the whole point, so maybe me making an ass of myself isn't the worst thing.
I glance back at him once I've climbed into my seat, and he's still just smiling. He gives me a little wave and gets into his car, idling as he waits for me to drive out first.
Definitely not the worst thing.
As always, thank you so much for reading.