Vibes (19 page)

Actually, it doesn't sound half bad.

I hear footsteps behind me. David knocks his knuckles on my table to get my attention and beckons over his shoulder. He leads me to a conference room, sits down at the little table, and points at a chair across from him. I sit down, and he says, "Are you okay?"

I shake my head and shrug at the same time. I guess that means "no" and "I don't know."

"You're not looking like yourself."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"What you said just now—"

"I don't really believe I can read minds."

"Really?" He narrows his eyes at me, and I hear him thinking,
Maybe I can get her into special ed and out of my class.

"I was just screwing with Hildie."

"Whether you actually believe you can read minds or not, Kristi, you must recognize it's a pretty odd thing to say. Right?"

"Absolutely. That's me. Zany sense of humor."

He leans toward me, knitting his fingers together. "Just the same, I think we'll probably call your parents, okay?"

"That's really not necessary. I'm fine."

"I think it's best for me to err on the side of caution."

"What's on the other side? Indifference? Because I think you should lean toward that."

He takes my hand and holds it until I meet his eyes. "I'm not going to say anything bad about you. I just think your mom needs to know about this, okay?"

I probe him for any weak spot in his thinking, but his thoughts come at me loud and clear.

She needs help.

I hate Hildie Peterson. She keeps ruining my life.

Only Jacob is loyal. Only Jacob is true.

He pounces on me just as I'm walking into the Bistro. "Hi, Kristi! I hear you had a weird episode in Explorations of Nature—is that right?"

"Yeah." I look around. The Bistro is especially quiet today, and everyone is looking at me. Hildie is squinting meanly as she whispers into Red Hutchins's ear. They both snigger, and then all the people around them start sniggering.

"Can you really read minds? What am I thinking right now?" Jacob closes his eyes tightly and scrunches up his nose, trying hard to send me a thought. He opens one eye. "Well?"

It is probably best not to mention the embarrassing image of my breasts coated in delicately placed bite-size mounds of mascarpone cheese, so I hazard a guess. "You are hoping I notice your new shoes. They're nice. Very retro chic."

"Wow! That's amazing!" he says, but I can't tell if he's humoring me or not.

The truth is, I'm not totally sure what he was thinking.

I get to the food line and that nasty little freshman spits at me, "Guess what I'm thinking right now."

I wait for her thoughts to ebb over me, and then I tell her, completely straight faced, "You're jealous of how big my boobs are, and you wear overalls all the time so no one can tell how flat chested you are."

That shuts her up completely. Bull's-eye.

I get a tray full of baked ziti and minestrone, which actually look appetizing for a change, but as I turn, my tray bumps Mallory and a dab of red tomato sauce lands on his white leather jacket. He gives me a look as if I did it on purpose and strides over to Hildie and sits down.

It is a strange alliance. It is a dangerous alliance.

Mallory catches me looking and glares. Head down, I run for my seat. Jacob is close on my heels.

"What am I thinking now?" He screws his eyes shut again, putting his thumbs in his ears for some reason, and bounces in his seat, waiting for me to guess.

That's when Gusty walks in the door and joins the lunch line. The nasty little freshman doesn't say a word to him when she plops ziti onto his tray, but she watches with longing as he passes by.

"Gusty," I whisper, almost without realizing it.

"That's amazing!" Jacob squeals. "How did you know that?"

"Know what?"

"Who I was thinking about. Sly thing!"

I ignore Jacob and watch as Gusty walks back toward the table where his sister is sitting, but stops short when he sees Mallory next to her.

"Gusty!" Jacob yells. "Come sit with us!"

"Jacob! Don't!" I try to stop him, but he is already waving Gusty over with his long, skinny hand.

"You bad girl, reading my mind—you've known all this time!" he hisses at me.

"Known what?"

"About my feelings!"

"Jacob, we're just friends, okay?"

"You and Gusty? I know! Because he's gay, right?"

This totally blind-sides me. I stare at him. "Why would you think Gusty is gay?"

"Tell me he is!
Please!
" Jacob whispers just before I feel Gusty's presence next to my right shoulder. "Hi, Gusty!" Jacob calls. "We have room here if you want to sit with us." Jacob flashes him a milky white smile. I don't mean milky because his teeth are white. I mean milky because he's drinking milk.

"Hi," Gusty says. He makes himself smile at me. He really tries.

"Hi," I whisper at him.

He sits down next to me, casting me little side-glances. He picks up his fork and stabs at a limp ziti.

"Gusty, I'm—" I start.

"Don't apologize." He searches my face, the corners of his lips turned down.

My heart feels suddenly weak, and I can feel my face melting as I look at him. He's staring into his baked ziti with those green eyes of his. He feels so far away. I reach out to him with my mind to try to read him, but all I can get is a heavy feeling of regret.

"Gusty," Jacob busts in, "I was interested in learning how to skateboard. Do you think you could teach me about it? I don't have very good balance, but I think I could learn if I tried really hard. I wouldn't want to do it on stairs or anything. Not right away. But ramps would be okay. And sidewalks, of course."

"Sure, Jacob. If you want me to," Gusty says before standing up with his tray.

"Okay, great!" Jacob says to Gusty, positively glowing.

"Let's talk later, okay?" Gusty says to me. His eyes flutter at me, but he can't look at me.

"Okay," I say. I lean my head into his line of vision, but he only smiles vaguely in my direction before he walks away.

I watch as Gusty sits down with his skate buddies. He opens his milk carton very slowly, as though he's too sad to do anything quickly. Everyone else at his table is talking and laughing, but he's on the other side of the planet.

This can't be the end. If he's this sad, he must still want me. I just need to explain everything. I need to figure out how.

I turn back to my food and start picking at the pasta. I can't eat, though, and I put down my fork. "Want my lunch?" I ask Jacob.

He doesn't hear me. He is smiling across the room at Gusty Peterson as though he's trying out for the Olympic Smiling Team. He sees me looking at him and blushes like crazy. He twists happily in his seat as he stabs a ziti with his fork and nibbles on the end of it. "I guess I have a little crush." He's so happy, he's spitting again. "What do people wear skateboarding? I mean, I want to look good, but I don't want to try too hard."

"What are you talking about?" I ask as I wipe his spit off my shoulder.

"My date! With Gusty!"

"Jacob, two guys hanging out is not a date."

He tilts his head, offended. "I never expected this attitude from you, of all people."

"What attitude?"

"What Gusty and I do behind closed doors is our business." I stare at him with my mouth open while it all clicks into place.

Jacob Flax is gay?

How can he be gay? I've caught him imagining my breasts in a million different ways. It can't be. "You don't mean that you want Gusty?"

"Come on, Kristi. To see Gusty is to want Gusty."

It takes me a minute to process all this, and while I do, I stare at Jacob. He's wearing a crisply ironed blue shirt, perfectly fitted jeans, and a black leather belt that matches his lace-up oxfords perfectly. His book bag is made of canvas with leather trim that also matches his belt, and for the first time I notice he's wearing a musky cologne. As he eats he takes small bites and chews them thoroughly, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with his napkin, which he keeps on his lap.

Jacob Flax is totally gay.

"Jacob, Gusty is straight. Believe me. I know for sure."

"Haven't you ever noticed he never has a girlfriend? I'll admit he's pretty masculine, but no one with hair like that could be straight."

"His hair is naturally curly."

"No way, Kristi. There's got to be some gel involved, at least. And a diffuser attachment on his blow dryer. Probably an ionic one."

"Jacob, Gusty is not gay."

He stares at me as his lips droop farther and farther toward the floor. "Then why would he teach me to skateboard?"

"Because he's a nice guy?"

"But he must have known I was hinting for a date!" Jacob says. He is seriously dismayed.

"Oh, Jacob, how could you think he's gay?"

"I don't know. I hoped!" He picks up his napkin to hide his face.

Jacob Flax is trying not to cry.

"Jacob, pull it together!"

He sniffles, looking at me with completely bewildered, tearful eyes.

"If you weren't so far in the closet, maybe Gusty would have known you were asking him out!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" He throws down his napkin and levels a glare at me. "The whole school knows I'm gay, Kristi."

"No they don't."

"Uh, yeah, they do."

"Jacob,
I
didn't know you were gay!"

He stares for a minute before he finally finds his voice. "You?
You
didn't know? You're like my best friend!"

"Well, if
I
didn't know, how can you be sure everyone else knows?"

He is completely taken aback. "You are really self-involved, Kristi, you know that?"

"So the whole school knows you're gay, is that it?"

"Yes, Kristi. The whole school knows I'm gay."

"So prove it." I fold my arms over my chest and stare at him meanly.

He stares back at me just as meanly. "Fine, I will," he says. Suddenly he stands up on his chair and claps his hands over his head. "Excuse me! Excuse me! Everyone! Could I have a moment of your time please?"

Slowly the noise of competing conversations trickles to a murmur, and people turn to look. Hildie has a cranberry juice halfway to her mouth. Mallory has turned to watch Jacob, but when I catch his eye, he looks away.

"Is there anyone in this school who does not know that I'm gay?" Jacob booms over everyone's head, and I realize that his voice has begun to change. Yelling at everyone like this gives him a certain ... dignity. "Please stand up if you didn't know I'm gay. Anyone?"

People start glancing around the Bistro. Gusty turns to look, too.

"Seriously, everyone knows I'm gay, right?"

I see Mallory shrug, and reluctantly he stands up. "I'm new," he explains. This gives a couple other people courage. A freshman who wears plaid every day stands up, along with a girl who compulsively draws hearts on her notebooks. But that's it.

Jacob turns to me, one eyebrow arched. "Kristi? Shouldn't you be standing?"

I can't stand. I don't have the energy to stand.

I don't understand this. If Jacob is gay, why the hell is he always picturing my boobs?

Why didn't I know my mom is a secret smoker?

Why did I think Dad left because of the lawsuit?

Why do I always hear Gusty thinking I'm sick?

If I'm so damn psychic, why couldn't I see the truth, that Gusty is in love with me, Jacob is gay, and my mom is a semicool cigarette smoker, and my dad...

My dad is a cheating bastard.

When I come home from school, a weird van is parked outside our house and Mom is smoking a cigarette on the front steps. She's wearing blue jeans rolled up above her ankles and an old Rolling Stones T-shirt with a huge tongue on it. When she sees me she beams like a halogen bulb. "Hey, honey."

"Hey, what's this?' I point at the van, which has big yellow letters on the side: H
EAVEN
S
CENT
C
LEANING
S
ERVICE.

"Having the carpets and upholstery cleaned to clear out the cat dander. Also, I have a surprise for you."

She waves me over, and I follow her around the house. I try to search her thoughts, but then I remember that I might not be psychic and so I stop, but not before I hear her voice in my mind saying,
I hope she likes this.
When we get to her scraggly rosebushes, she stops and watches my face in anticipation. I don't see what I'm supposed to be looking at, except maybe that the grass is getting leggy. "What?"

She proudly points at my bedroom window. "See?"

A strange hinged contraption is wedged under my window sash. "What is that?"

"It's a kitty door."

"A what?"

"Now your cat can come and go as he pleases!" She watches my face, all hopeful. "Do you like it?"

"She."

"She, then."

I can tell Mom wants me to be thrilled, but all I can think about is my sweet little Minnie Mouse getting eaten by a pack of pit bulls. "Minnie's not an outdoor cat."

Her smile deflates. "She's not?"

"No, she's never been outside since I got her."

"So she stays cooped up in your room all day long?"

"Yeah," I say, feeling guilty about it.

"Well, honey, this is the best compromise I could come up with." She pulls at the little strands of hair at the nape of her neck and starts twisting them, which is what she always does when she's starting to lose patience. "You can let her into your room, but nowhere else in the house, and she can rule the yard."

"I don't think it's safe."

"Not as safe as being inside all the time, but it will sure be a lot more fun for her, wouldn't you say?"

"But she doesn't have survival skills."

"You could've fooled me! It took me an hour to get her into the laundry hamper the other night. She's a vicious little minx." She throws her cigarette onto the lawn and tamps it out with her toe. "Look, it's the best I can do. This is the only way she can live here."

"Can't she just stay in my bedroom full-time?"