Part 10 (1/2)

”Well, you go on. We'll handle the clean up,” Mom says, beaming as wide as Kika.

I have this odd sensation that if I asked them to give me a new car right now or twin pet monkeys-I think they'd do it. As I exit the kitchen, I search for some shred of comfort in the fact that two out of three of my last lines to my parents are true: 1. Finals are tomorrow, and after 24 hours of being awake, I'm so tired there's no way I'm going to be able to avoid sleep tonight, no matter how hard I fight against it. Eventually, my body will betray me, so 2. Yeah, unfortunately, I'm going to sleep.

As for number 3. Texting Gray Porter my new friend-or employee or whatever he might be to me?

That, of course, is not going to happen.

Chapter Eleven.

Gray Corey drops his backpack next to mine and slides into the desk on my right. ”I hate the thought that this math final is going to kill our friends.h.i.+p.”

”Huh?” I ask, only half-listening.

”I fail, and you go on to college leaving me behind. Will you still hang out with me when my career tops out as the a.s.sistant manager of Taco Delights?”

”Only if you give me free gelato-tacos. Besides, I think you could make manager.” I don't look up. I'm texting Jess. I want this sent before Mr. Madsen, the math teacher, arrives and catches me with my phone out.

”The managers have to be able to count past their fingers. Come on man, I need you front and center for my pity party. Don't you care that I'm about to go down in flames? You've been texting non-stop. What's up? Who is up?”

I toss him a look and realize the guy is a little pathetic today. His dishwater colored hair is rumpled like he just rolled out of bed. There's also not much spark to his trouble-making blue eyes either.

”Sorry. I've got a new crush, and I'm trying to work it. You'll rock the final, don't worry,” I say as I send the text.

He nods toward my phone. ”That text was long enough to be a novel. And again-who's the girl?”

Mr. Madsen's still nowhere in sight. The rumor flying around the room is that the main office copy machine broke. There's a chance our final might be rescheduled. During lunch. ”What do you think about me having a real girlfriend for the summer? As in long term,” I ask.

Corey laughs so loud tears come out of his eyes, and half the room turns to look. ”Jesus, you almost sounded serious,” he adds when I hold silent.

”I am serious. What would you say if that text was to Jess Jordan?”

Corey laughs even louder. ”Dude! I'd freak. I'd check if you had a belly b.u.t.ton just in case you'd been switched out by an alien race. I'd stage an intervention and get you the help you need. Tell me you're joking. Tell me you, acting like a complete weirdo yesterday and wearing her pink sweats.h.i.+rt around after she lost it at lunch, was not about you wanting to hook up with that girl.”

I shrug. ”Not hook up. Date. She's hot as h.e.l.l. You even said so.”

”Yeah... meaning hot and ice cold. Or should I focus on the fact that you also said the word h.e.l.l for the rest of this conversation? Dating that chick, even for a second would be absolute h.e.l.l. Do you have a death wish?”

”Hot and sweet actually. She's different. Not how everyone thinks at all. I like her. Like, like her. I swear.”

”Dude. Show me your belly b.u.t.ton right now.”

Mr. Madsen saunters into the room holding a stack of stapled tests. ”Sorry. Had to run these on the music department's machine. Pencils and erasers are the only things I want to see on your desks. Once you complete the first two pages, turn them into me and I'll hand you the last part of the test and a calculator. Mr. Porter, when you've completed the entire final, report to Coach Williams. He has a bone to pick about something that might have been done to his personal copier-by you?” The teacher shoots me an accusing look.

My heart slams up and sticks behind my eye sockets. It's still beating fast, so that means my eyes must be bugging out with a beat everyone can see. ”Right. Sure,” I choke out, already planning my escape out the side doors.

Mr. Madsen nods like he can read my mind. ”He told me to tell you he'll be waiting, no matter how long it takes. If you don't show, he's going to call your grandmother.”

”If I weren't a teacher who valued my career, I'd drop you with a punch so hard it would put you straight into the emergency room!” Coach Williams shouts when I enter his cla.s.sroom.

”Bring it,” I bluff, walking slowly toward him. ”I'd love for a chance to help get you fired. Oh, and great to see you too.”

”Explain this.” Coach shakes the original copy of the contract I copied yesterday in my face.

I wince. I'd forgotten the original in the machine. s.h.i.+t.

I'd have forgotten a screaming baby on that copier with that blue-eyed girl shooting me winks and calling me boyfriend.

Anyone would have.

”You know Jess Jordan is off limits. This is a contract that has you dating? Dating! Jesus Christ, Porter. What in the h.e.l.l are you playing at?”

I eye the contract, wondering if I can just grab it and run, but I don't. I'm way beyond letting this guy intimidate me. I'm actually thankful it was Coach who found the contract and not anyone else. The guy knows as much as I do about Jess's situation. He was part of her situation, and mine. Part of not prosecuting the a.s.shole senior that created her situation.

I level him with a stare. ”I suppose I could ask you the same question, Coach. Why in the h.e.l.l is Jess working every afternoon for your music program? You talk. I'll talk. I have a feeling her being in here every afternoon has nothing to do with her craving for college application credits.”

”She's been working for me since freshman year-at the request of her parents. And she doesn't really work-mostly she-she-” He lets out a long breath and shakes his head. ”We aren't discussing my arrangements-or hers. I want to know what you think you are up to even talking to that girl. You must have done at least that because you both signed this idiotic paper. What happened to your promise?”

”Jess does what in here? What?” I insist. ”I'm not coming one-inch clean unless you go first. During the music program, Jess Jordan mostly does what?”

”She sleeps.” Coach glowers and crosses his arms. ”If she's having a good day, she helps out or does homework. If she's having a bad day, I give her free access to nap behind the stage curtain. Mostly, she has bad days.”

”Holy s.h.i.+t. You aren't kidding.” I let out a long breath and shake my head.

”Of course I'm not kidding. The girl has serious problems and you know that. You shouldn't be considering even one second of what's written on these pages. Your turn. Start talking.”

He slaps the contract onto my chest, so hard I swear my heart rhythm goes off beat. I grip the paper and crumple it until it's smashed into a tight ball.

”This,” I hold the destroyed contract in Coach Williams' face, ”was her idea. It's a done deal. We mean to go through with it. I'm going to be her pretend boyfriend for the whole summer, and we're both looking forward to it.”

Coach Williams lets out a long, low whistle. ”Holy s.h.i.+t,” he mutters not once breaking my stare. ”You aren't kidding, either. Are you?”

I shake my head.

He sighs. ”Does she know everything? About me-and what happened? And she remembers you and-s.h.i.+t. Is that why she's absent today?”

He suddenly looks way older. He's also shorter than I remember. That, or I'm just taller. It's been a long time since I've been anywhere near this guy.

”I don't know. I don't know what she knows or remembers,” I say. ”I'm 99% percent sure she doesn't remember me or anything that happened. She texted me earlier. She's sick. That's all. I can vouch for how terrible she looked yesterday. Said she had a headache and a bad lunch. Maybe she got worse?”

”Jess is not the type to ditch finals for no reason, so you must be right. But, if you messed with one hair on her head, I'll personally destroy your entire life.”

”Whatever. That's already been done-thanks to your lameness. Which reminds me, isn't this about the time you suck up and offer me a spot to play on the hockey team next year? Let's just get that conversation over now, so you don't have waste my time and hunt me down before the last day of school.”