42. Stranger
forty-two
Stranger
“ Y ou’re back with Brad now?” Jasmine is waiting for me at my locker after school.
“Yeah,” I can't quite meet her eyes. Brad announced the change in our relationship status the same way he did the first time, by meeting me in the parking lot, holding my hand all the way to first period, and then kissing me at the door.
“When did all of this happen, and honestly, what the hell?” Jasmine looks like I’ve lost my mind. “I don’t trust him and you shouldn’t either. Do you know what rumors are flying around school about him?”
“No,” I slam my locker door shut. “Because I don’t live and die on high school gossip like you do.”
A hurt look crosses her face, but she keeps going.
“The whole thing with Lexie leaving school is coming up again. The rumor is that he put something in her drink and that she’s going to press charges and then he’ll lose his football scholarship.
My guess is he's trying to get back together with you because he doesn't want you to say anything about what happened at the party at the begining of the year.
If you're on his side then who's going to believe Lexie? "
I turn to face her. A knot of shame and horror presses into my throat.
I didn’t tell Jasmine anything about that night.
She’s never asked me about it, but obviously she’s heard something.
I didn’t realize that rumor still existed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.
” I say it coldly, hoping she’ll get the hint and drop it.
"Why can't you just believe Brad likes me for me? Are you jealous."
"Jealous of you and Brad?" Jasmine puts her hands on her hips and turns to face me.
"Jealous because your long line of Jasmine worshippers have disappeared and you're all alone. When was the last time you even hung out with a guy?"
She opens her mouth and then closes it again without replying.
"You can't remember, can you?" I can see the hurt and anger boiling inside of her. I wait for the onslaught of venom I know she's capable of, but she just stands there. I turn to walk away, because I know the kind of venom I'm capable of, and I don't want to say something worse.
She grabs my arm. “I’m worried about you, Jess. You’re on this weird self-destructive kick and I don’t like it. Going back to Brad isn’t going to get Jacob’s attention and it’s not going to make anything better.”
I jerk away from her. “I’ve had all the advice from you I can stand.
" An avalanche of anger cascades over me. I think of all the times Jasmine told me what to do when it came to Jacob, how she told me to play hard to get, just when things were getting good between us. I’ve taken her advice time after time, and time after time it’s backfired.
"I’m done with Jacob and I’m done with you. ”
She looks like I slapped her, “Jess, don’t–”
“Sorry I’m late,” Brad puts a possessive hand on my back. “Hey Jaz.”
She doesn't answer him. She gives me a look, something like sympathy and anger and pain all mixed together.
"I have a surprise for you," Brad says, "Some of my soon-to-be teammates are taking me to a club tonight, and you're coming with me."
Jasmine's interest is piqued. "What club? Where?"
I'm not sure what she's getting at. Brad hesitates, but after a couple of long seconds he says. "It’s a new one, in downtown Tacoma, the Gator or something like that. Why? Do you want to come?"
"No," she slams her locker door. She turns to me. "And you shouldn't go either, Jess. I have a bad feeling about this." She nods toward Brad. "All of this."
"Didn't she just say she was done with you?" Brad moves closer to Jasmine, forcing her to take a step back toward her locker. She glares at him.
I slide my hand into his and pull him away, "Let’s get out of here."
"Whatever you want, babe," he kisses me and smiles at Jasmine like he's won. I don't look back as he wraps his arm around me and we walk away.
I’m standing in front of my closet trying to decide what to wear.
“What about me?” I’d asked when Brad told me his new friends had promised they could get him into the club even though he’s underage. “I don’t have a fake ID or–”
He laughed. “You don’t need a fake ID to get into a place like that, you’re a chick and you’re hot, but just in case, wear something sexy. Do you still have that skirt I saw you try on at the mall?”
It took me a few seconds to figure out what he was talking about. Then I remembered the skirt Jasmine bought me for New Years Eve. It’s in the back of my closet. The tags are still on it.
It’s as short and clingy as I remember it, but I put it on.
Without Jasmine to direct me how to dress it takes me forever to decide what to wear with it.
Finally, I pair it with a satiny red camisole that I usually wear under a jacket or sweater.
My high heel boots lie in the neglected heap in the back of the closet where I left them in the last time I wore them, to the football game, and the after party.
I run my fingers over the leather speckled with water spots, remembering.
Fear clutches my stomach. How did I end up back here?
Brad swears that he’s innocent of everything that happened at the party.
He said it was all Lexie. Convenient for him, she’s fallen off the face of the earth, so she can’t tell me her side of the story.
A tiny voice inside me says that Jasmine is right and he's setting me up to be his back-up in case Lexie accuses him of something.
I push that thought away and apply makeup with a heavy hand.
I spend a long time on my hair, pulling it up in a style that I hope makes me look sophisticated, sexy, but especially older.
I reach into my jewelry box for something to embellish the long swatch of bare skin between my collar bone and the low-cut v of the tank top.
My fingers close around the locket Jacob gave me.
I squeeze it until the metal hinge cuts into my palm, then I drop it and close the lid.
My neck can stay bare.
A stranger stares back at me from the mirror.
She looks every bit what I was going for–older, sophisticated, sexy, but mostly lost. I close my eyes and turn away.
My parents are out of town for the night.
Matt has been home from basic training for a week, but he's spent most of that time at Kendra's.
Tyler is staying the night at a friend's.
No one is around to comment on my outfit or talk me out of this.
The doorbell rings. I pull on my boots and ignore the lump of dread that presses against my chest. Tonight is about having fun, about remembering what it feels like to be wanted. It’s not like my high standards have brought me anything but rejection and grief.
Brad steps back and lets out a low whistle when I open the door. He obviously approves of what I’m wearing. He puts his arms around me and leans into my ear. “You look so hot right now. Maybe we should just stay here.”
“Thanks,” I pull away, then reach to get a jacket to cover my bare arms, to show him that I am not staying in tonight.
Brad stops me, “You don’t need that. I’ll keep you warm.” He leans over and kisses me on the neck. I turn and kiss him back, long and slow. It feels good to be held and told I’m beautiful. It feels good to be wanted, even if I feel like a stranger in my own skin.
He takes my hand and spins me around, appraising.
Then he reaches up and removes the clip so my hair spills over my shoulders.
He runs his fingers through it, straightening the pieces I spent an hour trying to get just right.
Finally he steps back. “I like your hair down. When you wear it up it looks too much like that stupid ponytail. Tonight is important to me. You need to look good.”
I close the door behind me. A shiver runs down my spine–a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold air that hits my bare arms as we walk out to his truck.