Authors: Katie Klein
“Parker,” she repeats, her tone icy
.
“He was riding by Guido’s as I was leaving and recognized my car. We got caught up talk
ing in the parking lot.
” I speak
swift
ly: the words flying out of my mouth one after the other. “That’s all, I swear.”
My body temperature continues
to rise
, i
ncreasing with each new lie.
So I’m not
telling the entire tru
th. . . . The only thing I can hope for i
s that no one witnessed me climbing onto the back of Parker’s motorcycle and riding away with him. That would make an already bad situation much,
much
worse.
“Jaden,” my mother says
, sighing. “I don’t like finding out from your boyfriend that you’re supposed to be home, and, when you don’t arrive, learn that you were out late with a completely different boy.”
“It’s not a big deal, Mom, I swear. You’re complicating things.”
Act
ually, I’m
doing the complicating
. . . and they’r
e becoming more and more complicated by the second . . . this whole me, Parker, a
nd Blake thing . . . but I can’t admit this to her. I
have
to make her understand there’
s absolutely nothing to worry about.
“Yes, Jaden, it
is
a big deal. Your father and I give you a lot of leeway with your curfew. We don’t ask you to come home at an unreasonable time for your age, but we expect you to be responsible.”
“We were talking
in my car in a parking lot, Mom,” I explain, an uncomfortable edge to my voice.
“
We were hanging out. Not spray painting the sides of buildings or shooting up in a dark alley. We were
talking
.”
Though talk
ing,
in many ways
, i
s
becoming
just as dangerous.
“That’s not the point, Jaden.”
“I don’t understand
what the point is, Mom,” I say
, my voice rising. “I
didn’t break curfew.” I stop
. . . thinking
. “Oh, I get it.
This isn’t about me or being out late.
This is about Parker.
”
“Hanging out with some guy who your father and I know nothing about except for what we’ve heard . . .”
“But that’s the point!” I cry
, interrupting.
Her eyes grow wider, flashing angrily.
“Keep your voice down. The baby and everyone else are asleep,” s
he warns
.
I take a deep breath.
“The point is,” I continue
, calmer, “that you don’t know anything about him. No one does. He’s not some evil guy with a horrible reputation, Mom. He’s
not
. He’s smart. He has things to say . . . and what pisses me off the most
is that no one wants to listen.
They do the same thing you’re doing right now: assu
ming the worst.” Salty tears sti
ng my eyes and I’m sad again. I’m sad for Parker. For us. For everyone
who won
’
t give him a chance
.
Because he
’
s worth that much, at least. He
’
s a decent guy; he deserves better than all of this.
Do
not
cry
.
“These last few months are imp
ortant
, Jaden,” Mom says
. “We don’t want some outsider ruining things for you.”
My mouth
plummets
in astonishment.
I scoff.
“What? Are you even
listening
to what I’m saying?” I ask. A tear escapes
,
trickling
soundlessly
down m
y cheek.
I
’
m crying.
I
hate
that I’m
crying
. I hate that I’m
crying
in front of my mom
.
Jaden
McEntyre
does
n’t cry in front of
anyone
. For any reason.
Ever
.
“This di
scussion is over,” she announces
,
arms folded
. “I understand that you have a project you’re supposed to be working on with this boy . . .
but keep your priorities straight
. What would Blake think about this?”
“I thought this
was about my future,” I reply
coolly
,
choking on the words.
“If you think of Blake in terms of your future, then you need to take him into account, too.”
I roll
m
y eyes, shaking my head. I ca
n’t believe t
his is even happening. I do
n’t know how to
explain myself any better. I don’t know how I can make her
realize
she’s
being too
judgmental about Parker—
her
and everyone else.
I don’t know why it’s so imp
ortant
that they understand
where I’m coming from, period
.
“Fine
.
”
Mom disappears into the den. I head
to my room, ta
king the steps two at a time.
When I
switch
on the
light, everything
i
s as it should be:
my pristine room, smooth bedspread, the squeaky oak floors;
the muted fragrance of my perfume—a soft
, powdery floral I
sprayed earlier th
at morning
;
the sink faucet I can
only get running with a wrench. . . .
An
d in the morning, when I twist
open my blinds, the same wintery gray clouds—
dense and opaque
—like every day before it.
“It was so amazing, Jaden, I swear. We like the same music, we hate the same classes, we like the sam
e
sports
. . .
,
” Savannah gushes
. She has
n’t stopped talking abou
t her ride with Tony since she
arrived at my locker.
“Since w
hen do you like sports?” I ask, interrupting, search
ing
in vain for
my c
hemistry notebook. I growl in aggravation. It’
s bri
ght pink. It’s not like it can
hide from me.
She plants
her free hand on her hip. “I happen to love sports, thank you
,” she replies
.
“Savannah, the only sport you have any interest in is shoe shopping, because God knows when Macy’s has a sale it becomes an endurance event.”
She frowns
. “You’re just mad because I found
that pair of Jimmy
Choo
heel
s on eB
ay for prom last year.”
“They didn’t fit,” I remind
her
, shifting my hair over my shoulder
. “You took them off after two dances because you had the biggest red welts on your feet anyone had ever seen.”
“Yeah, well,
speaking of prom,” she continues
, ignoring me, “I was thinking that maybe Tony should ask me. You think he’ll go, right? I mean, how could he not go to our senior prom?”
I shrug.
How am I supposed to know?
I mean, I’m not psychic. I have no clue what
Tony’s
plans a
re concerning
prom. After this weeken
d, I’m not entirely sure what
my
plans a
re
concerning prom.
“Okay. What’s wrong with you?”
she asks, curious.
Not something I can get into right now
.
“Nothing,” I reply
. “I have
the last of
our money from the raffle. We’ll let Mr. Anderson pick a number this week, and then this thing will be over.”
“This
thing
?” Savannah repeats
. “Jaden, you were so psyched about this project. And now it’s just a ‘thing’? What’s
happened
to you?”
“Nothing
.
”
A
heavy
sigh.
“Okay. I may have selfish tendencies in that I generally only focus on me, my problems, and what I want . . . but I know when something is going on with my best friend. Spill it.”
“T
here’s nothing going on.” I
moan
, fee
ling my forehead. The hallway is warm
,
anyway, but I’m kind of hoping I have
a fever. At lea
st that would explain why I feel
absolutely wretched.
“You’re lying.”
“I know.”
“So tell me.”
“It’s complicated.”
“So let me try to help you.”
“You’re not going to like what I have to say.”
“You won’t know unless you tell me.”
We go
back and forth
like this until she finally wears
me down
.
“You have to swear . . . this doesn’t leave the two of us.”
I survey
the busy hallway, watching for eavesdroppers.
Savannah holds
up her hand. “I solemnly swear.”
“Don’t be sarca
stic. This is serious,” I warn
, pushing her hand down
.
“What’s up?”
I let out another huge sigh
,
stomach heavy and twisted
. “It’s this
thing with Parker,” I confess, shaking my head. I can’t believe I’m
admi
tting this out loud. It just mak
e
s
it more real, and at
this point I’m not sure I can
handle real.
“What about him?” Savannah pries
.
“Well . . . I kind of spent some time with him on Friday night . . . after you all left, and Blake was gone. I was about t
o leave and he showed up. I, um . . .
went for a ride on his bike, and we talked for like, ever in my car.”
H
er mouth drops
, forming a perfect oval
.
She blinks
a few times.
“Wha
t? Are you
serious
?” She lowers
her voice. “Jaden. . . .”
“I know! I know!” I
cry
. “I am so completely confused right now.”
“Does Blake know?”
“No,” I say
quickly. “And you
cannot
tell him.”
“Does anyone else know?”
I finally locate my notebook, and cram it into my backpack.
“I didn’t get home until midnight. My
mom met me and told me Blake
called. She asked where I was and I had to tell her. I mean, she knew I wasn’t with Blake. I told her that Parker and I hung out for a while. I didn’t tell her about the motorcycle
thing. S
o rea
lly, you can’t let that get out, Savannah.
”
She
moves
in closer. “Was she mad?”
“L
ivid,” I reply
. “She said I needed to get my priorities straight. She doesn’t want me going anywhere near Parker.”
“If it wasn’t for this stupid English project it w
ouldn’t be a problem,” she muses
.
“I know. . . . But Savannah . . . I like Parker. I’m glad I got the chance to know him. I just wish everyone else could see him the way I do. He’s not weird or scary . . . he’s just . . . I don’
t know. He’s Parker.” I shrug
.
“Jaden
, you have
to tell me the truth,” she begi
n
s
, her blue eyes wide.
“
Do you like Parker? Or do you
like
Parker?”