We missed the line that day, thank God, because it was totally embarrassing when I had to shimmy through the small space while an impatient line of people watched from behind. There was no way to do it gracefully, and God forbid you should decide to wear a skirt the way I happened to do on that particular day.
“So, what gives?” asked Sunny, leaning into one of the surrounding hedges so she could light her cigarette without interference from the wind. She exhaled through her nose, and the smoke swirling out of her nostrils made her look like an angry bull getting ready to charge. “Why were you and Logan fighting before class?”
I was surprised it took Sunny so long to ask me. I’d waited for the question since leaving class. As a general rule, Sunny didn’t like not knowing things, and when said things involved a guy she was interested in (namely Justin) she really didn’t like not knowing the details.
“We weren’t fighting,” I said, taking the cigarette from her when she passed it to me. I tried to make my eyes big and innocent the way I did when my mom caught me in a lie, but Sunny knew me too well to fall for my act.
She rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, surveying the growing crowd to see if there was anyone worth talking to. I did the same so I wouldn’t have to look at her.
“You were fighting, don’t lie.” She snatched the cigarette back from me and took another drag. “Why did Logan care so much that Justin asked you about The Fields?”
I could tell by the way she blew her smoke in my direction she was only getting warmed up. And I also knew she didn’t give a crap about Logan. What she was really asking me was, “What did Justin do that made Logan so jealous?” Sunny might have acted stupid sometimes, but she was far from it.
“He was just making conversation. God, you sound like Logan.”
I didn’t think about what I was saying, and if I had any hope of holding something back from Sunny, I blew it with that one sentence.
“I knew you were fighting,” she said, her voice turning all know-it-all as she blew another puff of smoke toward my face. She tried to make it look like an accident, but there was nothing accidental in the motion. Classic Sunny.
I opened my mouth to say something back, but in that moment I saw Justin crawl through the hole in the fence, and I forgot whatever it was I planned to say. It was as if the air softened and the fog of secondhand smoke lifted to let the sun shine down on the patch of grass below the water tower. Even the plastic bottles and discarded cigarette packs littering the ground seemed to twinkle with new light at the sight of him. Maybe that made me sound like a cheesy Hallmark card, but I swore the earth heated up fifteen degrees when he came through the fence.
“Jeez, Taylor, put your tongue back in your mouth,” said Sunny, dropping her Camel to the ground and crunching it under the toe of her shoe. She narrowed her eyes at me as if to say, “Game on, bitch,” and gave me final a smirk before heading in Justin’s direction, her hips swinging the way they did when she wanted something.
I turned away from her so I wouldn’t have to watch her flirt with him. I didn’t want to see his reaction in case he decided to flirt back. And really, why wouldn’t he? What was there to stop him? She was a pretty girl, and boys liked pretty girls. It made me feel silly for getting so excited about his invitation to The Fields, or for thinking there was some deeper meaning behind the way he stood up for me in English class. What was I to him besides just another girl in the crowd of girls hovering around the base of the water tower waiting for someone to notice her? Suddenly my inkling that his stares were a sign that he might like me seemed an ocean away from one hundred percent certainty. And that made me feel pretty crappy.
I wandered over to the far edge of the fence, where people were busy admiring Jenny Schlitz’s arm cast. She had wrapped a multi-colored scarf across the sling and pinned little rhinestones all over the fabric so it twinkled and shone in the late afternoon light. People were oohing and ahhing like it was the cleverest thing they had ever seen. I oohed and ahhed with them, even though I didn’t really see what the big deal was. Granted I felt a little crabby about the whole Justin/Sunny thing, but whatever. Anything was better than watching Sunny lean in close and whisper in Justin’s ear, her long lashes fluttering against his cheek the way they were probably doing at that very moment.
Instead of thinking about Justin/Sunny, I talked to Amber about her spring formal dress, Lindsay about what a perv Mr. Thomas was, Mark about why he smoked Marlboros instead of Camels, Sara about the upcoming pre-calc test (although I did this at a whisper so no one would hear), and eventually I forgot about where Sunny was. I even smiled a bit when Logan’s wet lips pressed against my cheek. When Sunny finally came back to join the rest of the circle, I didn’t pause to think about where she’d been or why she was gone so long. I didn’t ask myself why she had that stupid grin on her face; the grin she only got when she’d gotten her way. I let her link her arm through mine and laughed with everyone else when she told Jenny Schlitz how stupid the rhinestone-covered scarf looked wrapped around her cast.
I didn’t know that Justin would still be standing by the rip in the fence when I finally turned around to look for him, but I’ll admit I was curious. Not because I only pretended not to be bothered that he’d been engaged in a half-hour long tête-à-tête with Sunny, but because I was curious to see if he’d stuck around. Really, there was no other ulterior motive behind my decision to turn around and look for him. But I’ll be damned if he wasn’t staring right at me with that is-he-or-isn’t-he-grinning look, like he’d been staring at me the whole time. He didn’t break his gaze when he saw me, even though Logan had his arm around my shoulders and Sunny stood in plain sight. It was ballsy, like he couldn’t give a crap who saw him or what people thought. I added that to the growing list of things I loved about him, because really, who was I kidding? There was no getting over Justin Cobb. Not for me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ALANA JAMES AND WHY I MAY BE GOING TO HELL