Falling Away
Page 18
“Everything okay here?” Penley stopped at our table as she circulated.
My chest fell with a hard sigh. “You might want to say ‘For eight hundred and forty-two million people in the world,’ ” I continued to Jake, “ ‘the solution to hunger proves more difficult.’ Using words like ‘is,’ ‘was,’ and ‘am’ is weak, so we try to use other verbs to make it sound better. Do you understand?”
Penley moved on to the next table, and I glared across the table to see that all the girls were concentrated on something out the window.
Jake shrugged. “I guess. So I have to go back and rewrite the whole thing?”
I shook my head, smiling. “Not today.”
“Oh, my God!” Christa bounced off her chair and leaned across the counter underneath the window, peering out. “He’s got his shirt off!” she whisper-yelled to her friends.
They scrambled out of their seats, Ana nearly falling in the process as they raced over to the window, giggling.
I shook my head, slightly amused, to be honest. I kind of missed being boy-crazy.
Sydney turned to her friends. “My sister says he’s even better without his pants on.”
One of them bounced up and down, while the other whimpered.
I wondered who they were talking about, and then I remembered Principal Masters saying something about the lacrosse team practicing every day.
Walking to the windows, I stood next to the girls and looked outside.
My shoulders sank, and I groaned. Fuuuuuuck. My heart suddenly felt as if it were too big for my rib cage as I watched a half-naked Jaxon Trent running around and rolling on the field as everyone horsed around with the water bottles.
“Damn, he’s hot,” Ana whispered, smoothing her hair as if Jax could actually see her. I felt like yanking her by her collar and sitting her ass down. He wasn’t a piece of meat.
But I swallowed that urge. Gazing out the window, I watched Jax and the rest of the team grab their Gatorades and collapse on the grassy field, the sweat on their chests shiny from the sun’s angry glare. His hair was wet, and he worked those long black shorts like a pro. I clamped my mouth shut before I whimpered.
He sat there, smiling and talking to a teammate, and I loved how even from here I could see his heart-stopping blue eyes.
He seemed oblivious that three teenage girls were gawking at him before he fell backward onto his back, resting.
“Girls,” I choked out, my mouth as dry as jerky. “We’ve got work to do. You’re here for a reason. And I’m here to help.” I held out my arm, gesturing for them to come back to the table.
But Sydney didn’t budge. “No, you’re here because you’re a fuckup, too,” she shot back. “We’re going to the bathroom.”
And I watched as all three of them grabbed their purses and left. Scowling up at the clock, I gritted my teeth, noticing that I still had three whole hours left.
Luckily session two passed more smoothly. After Jake and the girls left, I got a group of three male students, and I relaxed right away, noticing that boys were a hell of a lot easier. Men simply wanted to do whatever you wanted them to do so you’d shut up. There was no arguing, no cattiness, and no chitchat. Other than some minor flirting, the only problem was disinterest.
It was going to be a long-ass summer.
At noon, all the students filtered out of the room to enjoy the rest of their summer day, and I finally reached into my bag to check my phone.
Four texts. No, five.
Tate: Jax not happy! You blew out his speakers? LOL!
Great. I’d given her hell about cutting Jared’s electricity to shut down one of his parties. I was never going to hear the end of this.
Another from Tate. Heads up. Jared will be calling when he gets time. He needs to ask you something.
Hmm … okay.
Nik: Bored. Sooooo bored. Where are you?
I giggled quietly, missing my friend. I was about to dial her but decided to check my other messages first.
Mom: We need to meet for lunch this week. Call this evening.
Lunch? I grabbed the bag, swinging it over my shoulder as I walked out of the room, staring at my phone. Why did my mother want to have lunch?
When I got in trouble, she did nothing to help me. She had spoken to me only as much as she had to to let me know that I was not staying at home while I completed my community service. I’d felt alone and abandoned.
Now dread sat in my stomach like a ton of bricks, and the last thing I wanted to do was call her.
Checking the last message, I halted in the middle of the hallway.
Liam: Jax jumped me last night. Keep your new boyfriend away from me, or I go to the cops!!
Huh?
I dropped my arm and just stood in the empty hallway, probably looking as confused as I felt. Holding up the phone, I read the text again.
Jax jumped Liam?
Why? And why was Liam complaining to me about it?
Fisting the phone, I shook my head. Whatever. This was their problem. Not mine.
If Jax wanted to act like a child, that was on him. If Liam wanted to have the police laugh in his face, since they were obviously in the palm of Jax’s hand, then let him.
Dumping the phone in my purse, I grabbed Tate’s iPod, tuning it to Bananarama’s “Cruel Summer,” and stormed down the stairs and down the corridor to the rear of the school. Exiting through the back was a shortcut to Tate’s house, and since I was already annoyed, I figured I might as well book back to the house and get changed for the one o’clock kickboxing class.
My chest fell with a hard sigh. “You might want to say ‘For eight hundred and forty-two million people in the world,’ ” I continued to Jake, “ ‘the solution to hunger proves more difficult.’ Using words like ‘is,’ ‘was,’ and ‘am’ is weak, so we try to use other verbs to make it sound better. Do you understand?”
Penley moved on to the next table, and I glared across the table to see that all the girls were concentrated on something out the window.
Jake shrugged. “I guess. So I have to go back and rewrite the whole thing?”
I shook my head, smiling. “Not today.”
“Oh, my God!” Christa bounced off her chair and leaned across the counter underneath the window, peering out. “He’s got his shirt off!” she whisper-yelled to her friends.
They scrambled out of their seats, Ana nearly falling in the process as they raced over to the window, giggling.
I shook my head, slightly amused, to be honest. I kind of missed being boy-crazy.
Sydney turned to her friends. “My sister says he’s even better without his pants on.”
One of them bounced up and down, while the other whimpered.
I wondered who they were talking about, and then I remembered Principal Masters saying something about the lacrosse team practicing every day.
Walking to the windows, I stood next to the girls and looked outside.
My shoulders sank, and I groaned. Fuuuuuuck. My heart suddenly felt as if it were too big for my rib cage as I watched a half-naked Jaxon Trent running around and rolling on the field as everyone horsed around with the water bottles.
“Damn, he’s hot,” Ana whispered, smoothing her hair as if Jax could actually see her. I felt like yanking her by her collar and sitting her ass down. He wasn’t a piece of meat.
But I swallowed that urge. Gazing out the window, I watched Jax and the rest of the team grab their Gatorades and collapse on the grassy field, the sweat on their chests shiny from the sun’s angry glare. His hair was wet, and he worked those long black shorts like a pro. I clamped my mouth shut before I whimpered.
He sat there, smiling and talking to a teammate, and I loved how even from here I could see his heart-stopping blue eyes.
He seemed oblivious that three teenage girls were gawking at him before he fell backward onto his back, resting.
“Girls,” I choked out, my mouth as dry as jerky. “We’ve got work to do. You’re here for a reason. And I’m here to help.” I held out my arm, gesturing for them to come back to the table.
But Sydney didn’t budge. “No, you’re here because you’re a fuckup, too,” she shot back. “We’re going to the bathroom.”
And I watched as all three of them grabbed their purses and left. Scowling up at the clock, I gritted my teeth, noticing that I still had three whole hours left.
Luckily session two passed more smoothly. After Jake and the girls left, I got a group of three male students, and I relaxed right away, noticing that boys were a hell of a lot easier. Men simply wanted to do whatever you wanted them to do so you’d shut up. There was no arguing, no cattiness, and no chitchat. Other than some minor flirting, the only problem was disinterest.
It was going to be a long-ass summer.
At noon, all the students filtered out of the room to enjoy the rest of their summer day, and I finally reached into my bag to check my phone.
Four texts. No, five.
Tate: Jax not happy! You blew out his speakers? LOL!
Great. I’d given her hell about cutting Jared’s electricity to shut down one of his parties. I was never going to hear the end of this.
Another from Tate. Heads up. Jared will be calling when he gets time. He needs to ask you something.
Hmm … okay.
Nik: Bored. Sooooo bored. Where are you?
I giggled quietly, missing my friend. I was about to dial her but decided to check my other messages first.
Mom: We need to meet for lunch this week. Call this evening.
Lunch? I grabbed the bag, swinging it over my shoulder as I walked out of the room, staring at my phone. Why did my mother want to have lunch?
When I got in trouble, she did nothing to help me. She had spoken to me only as much as she had to to let me know that I was not staying at home while I completed my community service. I’d felt alone and abandoned.
Now dread sat in my stomach like a ton of bricks, and the last thing I wanted to do was call her.
Checking the last message, I halted in the middle of the hallway.
Liam: Jax jumped me last night. Keep your new boyfriend away from me, or I go to the cops!!
Huh?
I dropped my arm and just stood in the empty hallway, probably looking as confused as I felt. Holding up the phone, I read the text again.
Jax jumped Liam?
Why? And why was Liam complaining to me about it?
Fisting the phone, I shook my head. Whatever. This was their problem. Not mine.
If Jax wanted to act like a child, that was on him. If Liam wanted to have the police laugh in his face, since they were obviously in the palm of Jax’s hand, then let him.
Dumping the phone in my purse, I grabbed Tate’s iPod, tuning it to Bananarama’s “Cruel Summer,” and stormed down the stairs and down the corridor to the rear of the school. Exiting through the back was a shortcut to Tate’s house, and since I was already annoyed, I figured I might as well book back to the house and get changed for the one o’clock kickboxing class.
