7. Ghost of Childhood Past
seven
Ghost of Childhood Past
“ D on’t those two ever come up for air?”
I don’t bother following Taryn’s gaze. I know who she’s talking about. Brad and Lexie make it a point to be overly affectionate whenever I’m around. I keep my eyes on my salad, rearranging it with my fork.
“Funny how Lexie wasn't interested in him until...” She sets her lunchbox down. "Sorry Jess."
I shake my head and spear a piece of lettuce, maybe a little harder than I need to.
“Don’t worry. I couldn’t care less what those two are doing.
” I don’t look up from my tray, but I can feel sympathy oozing across the table.
I can’t take Taryn’s pity. No matter how much she loves me.
She sighs and opens her milk and her latest romance novel. She knows I’m not in the mood to talk.
“Jess, hey, Jess.” Jasmine bounds down the last two stairs towards our table. She’s waving and talking loudly, like I can’t see her or hear her. Like there’s any way I can ignore her—any way anyone can ignore Jasmine.
She slides into the chair beside Taryn and sets her lunch—a diet soda and a candy bar—on the table in front of her. “I just got a text from Chris. He wants us to come with him to a party tonight.” Chris is Jasmine's boy of the month. He goes to the school across town.
“Not interested.” I pick the apple ?off my tray and roll it between my hands. One party in my whole life was enough. Jaz doesn’t understand. She keeps bugging me to get out, to show Brad that he hasn’t crushed me. But maybe he has.
I gave my friends the bare minimum of information after the party.
Brad was being a jerk. We got into a fight.
I scratched his face. End of story. No one knows what really happened.
Not even the kids at the party. They all thought I was drunk or stoned when I clawed Brad’s face and then stumbled outside and made myself throw up in the bushes.
I’m not even sure I know what really happened.
Jasmine works her long red fingernails around the top of her soda and pops it open. “What are we going to do with her?” She stretches her perpetually tanned legs out along the bench. “Maybe we could get her to go if we told her there would be guys in uniform there.”
My head snaps up, and my face flames. Am I that transparent?
Jasmine continues talking to Taryn like I’m not here. “She’s got this thing for Army guys lately. Have you noticed? We were at the mall on Saturday and saw a bunch hanging out in the parking lot. She made some lame excuse to go over and check them out.”
Taryn meets my eyes behind Jaz’s back. I can’t answer the question I see there.
Jasmine reaches over and steals a carrot off my tray. “So, what’s the deal with guys from base, Jess? You have a secret boyfriend, or are you just looking?”
She’s watching me now. I wonder what she would say if I told her about Jacob.
Beautiful, outgoing Jaz who can have any guy she wants.
What could I tell her that wouldn’t sound completely desperate and crazy?
I slip my fingers into my pocket and curl them around the locket.
What seventeen-year-old girl still obsesses about her childhood crush?
The kind that spends Saturday night curled up with a good book.
That’s not me anymore. I worked too hard to get past that.
But it didn’t work. The ghost of Jacob haunts my dreams almost as much as Brad plagues my nightmares. Mom must have forgotten about him being here; so far there hasn’t been a dinner invitation. I’m not going to be the one to bring it up.
“Leave Jess alone.” Taryn looks across the quad to where Brad is lying on the bench, his head on Lexie’s lap. Lexie is leaning over him, feeding him grapes. “I hope the next one he gets is rotten.”
Taryn, loyal to the end. Bless her porcelain skin and tightly curled mane of dark hair. She’s the only one who would know anything about Jacob. The only one who has been with me since the early days of geek-dom. Even after I ditched her for Brad’s crowd.
“You know I’m just teasing.” Jasmine pats my shoulder like I’m a little girl. “No one believes those things he’s been saying about you. Now, about the party...”
The bell rings so I pick up my tray and stand up. “I have to work.”
“Your class is over by what, six? You can still make it,” Taryn says.
“The Nag is dead again. I have to take the bus home.”
“When are you going to get a car that runs?” Jasmine sips the last bit of soda out of her can and stands up next to me.
“After I win the lottery, or your parents decide to adopt me.” Jasmine’s red convertible VW bug was her sweet-sixteen present. She has no concept of what it is to pay for her own gas or to own a car that never runs.
Taryn stands in my way and puts her hand on her hip. “She’s right. You need to get out.” I must be really pitiful if Taryn is telling me to get a life.
I roll my eyes at her but force a smile. Maybe they’re right. One party—with Jaz there to keep me out of trouble—I can handle that. “Okay, I’ll come. I’ll get there when I can.”
***
I’m in the locker room at the YMCA changing my clothes when Jasmine walks in. I’m positive she’s here to make sure I get to the party tonight.
She sets her gym bag on the bench. “I thought I would check out your class. Work on getting my bod in shape.”
I roll my eyes without answering. Jasmine is thin and curvy in all the right places. I’m not about to give her the satisfaction of reminding her of that. Girls who know what it is to be teased about being fat hate to hear girls like Jaz complain about their bodies.
“And this way I can give you a ride to the party, so you won’t be late.”
I make a face.
“It will be fun.” Jasmine singsongs the words, like she’s talking to a two-year-old.
I shut the door of my locker without bothering to lock it. “I have to get to my class. Are you ready?”
“Yeah, give me a sec.” She steps in front of the mirror and starts fixing her hair. Jaz actually cares what she looks like when she works out. My hair is back in a long braid and there’s no trace of make-up left on my face.
Satisfied with her ponytail, she leans close to the mirror, looking for a nonexistent blemish. “So, kickboxing?”
“Yep.”
“Any guys take the class?” She blots her lip gloss with her finger.
“Not usually.” I pick up my music and headset and start for the gym.
Jasmine trots to catch up. “Too bad.”
Kickboxing was my absolute favorite class when I started doing aerobics at the Y.
When the regular instructor quit, they asked me if I would teach the class.
It’s a stretch for them to let a seventeen-year-old teach, but they couldn’t find anyone else who was willing to do it, at least not for what they pay me.
I love it. It’s almost as much of a release for me as running.
There’s nothing like imagining Brad or Lexie in front of me to make my kicks higher, faster, and harder.
I have a lot of frustration to work off, so I work my class hard.
By the end I’m dripping with sweat. The sadistic part of me likes that Jasmine had to stop a couple of times and she’s still breathing hard.
She comes up behind me while I coil the headset around my arm and shut down the sound system. “What did you think?”
“Fun but tough.” She flips her ponytail. “I thought I was in pretty good shape from cheering all year, but you’re an animal.”
“Thanks.” I take a long drink of water and then wipe my face off with my sweat towel.
She glances at the clock across the gym. “We’d better get going. We don’t want to be late.”
“It’s a party.” I hang back. “How can we be late?”
Jasmine starts towards the door. “Don’t worry about changing or showering, okay? Just grab your stuff and let’s go. I have an outfit already picked out for you. We’ll get ready at my house.”
I groan. “Whatever.” It’s not worth arguing with her about it.
Jasmine pauses at the door and looks at me critically. “No sulking, okay. The Brad thing is over, forgotten.”
I wish. He still calls me once in a while, laughs and hangs up, just to torture me. Or texts me. Things I delete before my mom checks my phone. Sometimes I wish I could go back to being invisible.
Jasmine is still talking as she pushes through the door. “There’s this guy I want you to meet...cute, funny, and new. Just moved here from Cali. The perfect candidate to double with me and Chris for homecoming.”
“Wow, you must really like this guy if you’re ready to commit to a formal dance.” Jasmine collects boys. She falls ?madly, passionately, and completely in love every other month. Then she drags the poor guy along until someone new catches her interest.
“I didn’t say I wanted him to take me to our homecoming, but if I get an invite to his—”
I shake my head at her. “Now you’re just being greedy—”
“Jess.”
I look up. It takes a second to figure out who said my name. When I see him, I don’t recognize him.
Not at first.
I stop dead, not sure I can believe my eyes. Somehow, I manage to stay on my feet as I gasp his name.
“Jacob.”