Catalyst (The Best Days #1) (2 page)

He wasn’t just easy on the eyes.  Carson also had a quiet confidence that Rory found very attractive.  It was like he was self-assured enough to not feel the need to gloat about it. 
Despite his popularity, he seemed almost introverted, as though he preferred to hang back from the crowd and people watch. 

The fact that Carson was a bit standoffish attracted Rory to him, maybe because that was so different from her own personality. 
Rory was animated and bubbly enough that she needed someone like Carson to balance her out.  Being with an outgoing, life-of-the-party sort of guy just wouldn’t work.  It would be like he and Rory were in competition or something.  But with Carson, it seemed like the dynamic would be perfect.

Rory had noticed him watching her on occasion – at least she hoped she hadn’t imagined it.  He didn’t leer the way some of the creepy high school morons did, their eyes crawling over Rory’s curves like she was just a piece of meat.  No, Carson seemed to actually
see
her.  Every time their eyes met, little shockwaves of excitement exploded in Rory’s body.

She liked to imagine that somehow, Carson saw past her
giggly demeanor.  At the end of the day, it was all a façade.  Not many people knew that about Rory.  They thought she was just naturally drawn to the limelight, always eager to have all eyes on her.  But that wasn’t the case…not really. 

The truth was that Rory was deeply insecure.  She couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment in her life when her confidence had plummeted.  Most likely it was the result of a million little things – her brainy
younger sister’s A+ report cards hanging on the fridge, her athletic older brother’s room full of sports trophies...it was difficult being the only unremarkable child in the family.

But the popular kids preyed on the weak.  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that and Rory had figured it out early on.  That’s why she’d made sure to wear the right clothes, say the right things and hang out with the right people when she’d started high school.  It had been a survival mechanism, really.  And it had worked.

But sometimes when Carson was absentmindedly looking in Rory’s direction, she liked to imagine he was looking past her meticulously applied makeup and carefully styled but infuriatingly uncooperative hair.  (The cruel reality was that some days it looked better when she did nothing to it than when she spent half an hour styling – and cursing at – it.  It was almost enough to make her throw her hands up in defeat and resort to boring, low-maintenance ponytails like her sister’s…almost.)

In reality, Carson
was probably just wondering why Rory was such a dull, boring person.  Or maybe he thought she was standoffish and rude because she never really knew what to say to him.  She hated that he might think those things of her, but she could understand if he did.  Rory didn’t think she was dull or boring and she knew she wasn’t usually standoffish or rude, but Carson brought out something strange in her.

Rory had conversations with Carson in her head a million times a day, but whenever the opportunity to actually talk to him presented itself, she found herself at a loss for
words.  It was highly unusual for the normally spirited, talkative social butterfly, but he had a peculiar effect on her.

Rory
always seemed to clam up around Carson.  In fact, she doubted she’d ever said more than ten words to him.  Truth be told, even though they’d hung out in a group on occasion, she wasn’t sure he even knew her name. 

“I
said
,” Hilary repeated herself impatiently, “Are you finally going to make a move?”

“I don’t know,” Rory mumbled, suddenly very intent on studying her plastic bag full of carrot sticks.
  They were so...orange.  And they tasted like carrots.  Gross.

Hilary
pursed her lips disapprovingly.  Rory hated when she did that as it usually meant she was going to go off on someone.  Oftentimes, that someone was Rory.  For a so-called friend, Hilary was kind of a bitch.

“
You’d better do it.” Hilary informed Rory bossily.  “It will be your last chance.  He’s graduating this year, dummy.  Next year he’ll be off to college and you won’t have a hope in hell of getting with him then.” 

Rory sighed. 
Even though the advice was really just a giftwrapped insult, Hilary was probably right.  “Do you think I have a shot with him now?” Rory asked hesitantly, suddenly feeling even more insecure than usual. 

Maybe she was fooling herself.  M
aybe Carson was out of her league.  After all, why would he want Rory when he could be with a skinny cheerleader, the age old cliché? 
That
coupling made sense.  Carson and Rory, the unremarkable blonde girl with a muffin top who just happened to sit at the cool kids’ table, didn’t. 

She bit her lip apprehensively, braci
ng herself for Hilary’s answer.

Hilary
shrugged noncommittally as she inspected her picture perfect manicure and then pulled a nail file out of her canary yellow carry on suitcase sized purse.  “You’ll never know if you don’t try.  I mean, the worst that can happen is he laughs in your face and rejects you in front of everyone, right?” 

A loyal, kind, supportive friend was one thing
Hilary was not.  But she
was
fun.  A bright smile lit up her pretty face again.  “The party is going to be amazing!” she proclaimed confidently.  “Just wait, you’ll see!  Everyone will be talking about it for years to come!”

Rory didn’t answer. 
Even though she hated to admit it, Hilary’s cavalier comments had stung.  While she was excited by the prospect of a killer party, she also couldn’t help but wonder whether Carson would ever be interested in her or if she was wasting her time. 

* * * * *

It was fifth period.  Rory was supposed to be in algebra class, but was bored out of her mind – not to mention starving to death.  Thankfully, her algebra teacher had slipped out of the room halfway through the class like he normally did. 

That had provided Rory the opportunity to ditch the class herself.

There were all sorts of theories about where the thirty-something year old algebra teacher went and what he did during that time when he disappeared from Room 103.  Speculation ran rampant amongst the students.  Masturbating in the janitor’s closet was a top contender, as was getting high in the teachers’ lounge. 

Of course, it was more likely he was just chatting with colleagues
in the teachers’ lounge or enjoying a long, leisurely smoke in an empty classroom, but those theories weren’t nearly as scandalous and therefore, they were quickly discarded.  The Belleview High gossip mill’s motto was the more outrageous, the better.

The point was
that Rory was able to slip out of the classroom at precisely 2:31 p.m. like usual.  She immediately made a beeline to the vending machine outside the cafeteria. 

Who could sur
vive on carrot sticks and diet soda?  Glancing over her shoulder, she hurriedly bought two bags of chips and a chocolate bar, her stomach growling angrily.  She then quickly made her way to the girls’ bathroom located outside the school gym.  She always went to that one because it was usually deserted so she could enjoy her mid-afternoon junk food break in privacy.

Rory slipped into the furthest stall from the door, dropped her
oversized purse and algebra textbook on the floor and tore into the wrapper of her chocolate bar frantically. 

“Mmm,” she moaned as she sunk her teeth into the forbidden chocolaty goodness. 
It was gooey and dripping with caramel.  It was heavenly.

The diet that Rory
and her friends were on was crazy, she concluded, pushing away thoughts of guilt and inadequacy.  She always ended up lightheaded and woozy by mid-afternoon if she didn’t have a snack.  The only reasonable thing to do, Rory had eventually concluded, was to cheat on her diet.

How could her friends do it?  She wondered if they secretly ch
eated on their diets, too.  Maybe a few of them did, Rory decided, but not Hilary.  Hilary was supermodel thin, to the point where Rory hated to stand next to her lest their asses be compared.  Rory wasn’t exactly fat but she definitely had curves – too many, in her opinion.

The chocolate and potato chips probably didn’t help.

When Rory had polished off her hoard of junk food, she wandered out of the stall and thoughtfully studied her reflection in the mirror above the sinks.  She didn’t look like she binged on junk food every afternoon, she decided, even though like every teenage girl she thought she could stand to lose a few pounds. 

Rory wishe
d she was tan like Hilary, but she had what her mother referred to as a “peaches and cream” complexion.  At least she didn’t suffer from acne the way that one sophomore girl did…Rory didn’t even know her name as everyone simply referred to her as Pizza Face. 

Rory also
had her long, stick straight blonde hair going for her - people were always complimenting it even though some days she felt like it was the bane of her existence. Her eyes looked even bluer than usual under the florescent lighting and her generous application of black mascara made them pop.

She
smiled tentatively at her reflection and then scrambled to wipe chocolate off her front tooth.  She didn’t look so bad, although her opinion might inexplicably change at any moment.  She was beginning to feel hopeful that maybe Carson could be attracted to her after all.

Suddenly the bell rang, signalling the end of the school day. 
Had she really been in there that long?  Pulling herself away from the mirror, Rory collected her belongings from the bathroom stall.  She threw the crumpled junk food wrappers in the trash and, satisfied that all evidence of her binge had been concealed, hurried out into the hallway.

Ten minutes later,
Rory stood by her best friend Sheck Jackson’s locker, impatiently waiting for him to show up.  Even though she was frequently tardy herself, Rory couldn’t stand to be kept waiting!  Sheck jokingly called her a diva.  Rory retorted that she simply knew what she wanted.

Rory’s parents were good friends with the
Jacksons.  The families were also neighbours, with the Jacksons living three houses down from the O’Neils.  For as long as Rory could remember, the children had moved freely between the two homes. 

Every summer
her brother Justin, Sheck and their dads would block off the road and play street hockey late into the night.  It had become a long standing tradition and was something Rory had always looked forward to even though she didn’t play herself.  The friendly rivalry was fun and there was something nice about just hanging out on the front porch cheering on her team and heckling the opponents.

Ever since he
’d gotten his driver’s licence last year, Sheck faithfully picked Rory up in the mornings for high school and drove her home in the afternoons.  He was ridiculously proud to be cruising around in his parents’ old station wagon.  It wasn’t glamorous but he had a car and at seventeen years old that meant independence and freedom.

It worked out well because Rory
didn’t have her licence yet.  After failing her first driving exam, she’d refused to try again; the only thing more embarrassing than failing once would be failing twice.  And she hated taking the bus.  Thank God for Sheck.

Of course, it would
be even better if Sheck was punctual.  He was probably off flirting with that little redheaded freshman who’d caught his eye.  She was cute, Rory guessed, if freckles were your thing. 

“Hey Rory” came a voice from behind her. 

Wait – she knew that voice.  She dreamed about that voice!  Rory spun around, dropping her textbook in the process, and came face to face with Carson Keller.  His dark hair was sexily askew and she longed to reach out and brush it out of his handsome face. 

“Hi,” she croaked, her voice suddenly failing her. 
Why did that always happen?   Her voice, just like her hair, was a dirty, stinking traitor.

“What’s going on?” Carson asked,
effortlessly picking up her textbook and handing it to her.  Her heart fluttered at the tiny, insignificant act of chivalry. 
He was so gorgeous.  He could be talking to any girl in the crowded hallway right now, but he was talking to
her. 
Ohgodyes. 

Rory swallowed hard, praying she wouldn’t make an ass of herself.  “Just riding on my wait,” she blurted out and then immediately cringed. 
Shitshitshitshit.  He was going to think she was an idiot – and she
was
an idiot!  How could she have said that?  Not only were her hair and voice traitors, but apparently so was her brain!

Carson’s blue eyes twi
nkled with amusement and a grin played over his perfect, oh-so-kissable lips.  “I see.  Your boyfriend’s running late,” he observed over his shoulder as he turned away and began fiddling with the combination on his locker.

A look of confusion passed over Rory’
s face.  “Sheck?  Oh no, he’s not my boyfriend,” she informed Carson quickly, anxious to clear up his misconception. 

“He’s not?”

“He’s just a friend.  I mean neighbor…well, he’s my friend
and
neighbor,” Rory babbled nervously, unable to stop talking even as her brain screamed at her to shut up.  “He lives three houses down…our families are friends.  We’ve, uh…we’ve never dated,” she finished lamely, cursing herself for getting tongue tied.