Oh. My. Gosh! What’s he doing out here with the rest of us rejects? Shouldn’t he be, like, captain of the football team or something? And why do I get the funny feeling him being here isn’t an accident?
My hand was still suspended midair, so Boobtube followed my line of vision. “OMG!” she gasped, mimicking my thoughts exactly. “Is that the hot, new guy everyone’s been talkin’ about?”
“Yup,” I said, cringing at the well-worn adjectives.
“Oh man! I gotta say—the rumors don’t even do him justice!” She started flapping her arm at him like an idiot, a risky move considering her choice of tops. “Oh my God! He’s lookin’ right over here!”
I was still staring back at him when I was on the receiving end of a mocking salute.
“Did you see that?” Goth-girl gaped.
“No,” I lied, dragging my eyes from something that was beginning to mesmerize me. “I didn’t see anything.”
The whistle blew, and we followed Coach Sams downfield to an unused portion of grass to practice kicking soccer balls between neon orange cones. It wasn’t the most athletic bunch, so I kind of dumbed down my skills to match their level. It was so easy that I would’ve been deathly bored except for the fact that the boys’ P.E. class was right across from us doing the exact same thing.
I tried hard not to look over at him, but it was nearly impossible not to. Even Coach Sams stopped yelling at us for one second to stare at Pete. He was bouncing a stray soccer ball from knee-to-knee then foot-to-foot while waiting his turn. Show off. He certainly wasn’t keeping his athletic prowess under wraps for the benefit of his comrades. Feeling inexplicably piqued, I hurried off to the gym as soon as the whistle blew without so much as a backward glance. But I may have been the only one out there not glancing back at him.
In the locker room, I changed back into my street clothes, adding a bell skirt to my ensemble instead of the jeans I’d worn to school. I figured switching back here was the safest bet in case Daddy was actually home for once when we got there. Almost all of sixth-hour just remained in their athletic attire. Not me. If Daddy found out I was even wearing shorts in the presence of boys, he would most likely force me back into homeschooling myself.
After stuffing my gym clothes and jeans into my backpack, me and my bell skirt swung back out the double doors into the milling bouquets of laughing classmates enjoying their afternoon of freedom in the sun. I parked close to the gym this morning, knowing it would give me a quick getaway. Unfortunately, most of the jocks and cheerleaders also parked there and were gathered together now, socializing before heading back in for after-school practice.
One hand over my eyes, I scanned the crowded parking lot for my car and saw an imperious hand waving me over. What does she want? Whatever it was, I wasn’t in the mood. I pushed out a sigh before winding my way through the maze of cars to where my former friends were posing against a convertible Mustang in various stages of undress. I eyed Steph’s blinged-out belly button ring. Guess the dress code is rendered null and void after three o’clock.
She caught me staring. “Do you like it?”
“Um, yeah . . . it’s cool,” I said.
“I got it over the summer—my cousin did it in her bathroom.”
Ashley-Leigh broke in, “Okay, now that everyone’s all caught up . . .” She rounded on me. “Do you mind telling us why you acted like you’d never seen Pete Davenport before when you two, like, obviously already know each other somehow?”
“Yeah, Katie, he was totally flirting with you,” Steph added jealously.
“I wouldn’t exactly go so far as to say he was flirting with her, but,” Ashley’s made-up blue eyes glared at me, “I could totally tell somethin’ was goin’ on.”
Several sets of made-up eyes stared at me expectantly.
“Did you, like, check out a book for him or somethin’?” Ashley-Leigh prompted.
I decided to stick to the same micro-version of the truth I told Miguel. “I, uh, waited on him and a friend a couple of weeks ago.”
“Hold up.” Ashley-Leigh held up one limp hand in front of her. “So you’re sayin’ he went voluntarily into that dumpy dive you work at to, like, actually eat?” The hand moved to cover her mouth in mock horror. I noticed that all her nails were painted purple except one, which was metallic silver with a purple wildcat on it. I wondered how much time it took to do that.
“Katie! How could you? You could’ve, like, killed him feedin’ him that poison!” Of course everyone laughed at her little funny. I didn’t bother to tell her it was a mute point since he didn’t eat anything anyway.
“Hopefully, he has better taste in . . .”—she eyed me over skeptically— “other things.”
“Yeah, well . . .” I pushed past her, “I guess we’ll see”
Ashley-Leigh called after me, “Hey Katie, I noticed you put your nun habit back on—your Daddy know you started wearin’ jeans to school?”
My back stiffened. I spun around, stung. Wow. She was really playing dirty now. How could she? She was the one begging me to start dressing “normally” all these years. The betrayal on my face must have registered in some tiny portion of her heart not yet petrified by getting her own way all the time.
“I’m just kiddin’, Katie-Kat . . . your secret’s safe with me.” She winked then turned back to her friends and began animatedly talking again, seeming to forget about me the second I left her sight.
14
THE MENTOR
Twitchy with impatience, I crawled through the school zone, my mind racing with unanswered questions. Four o’ clock this afternoon I would pick Andrew up at his elementary school. Half an hour. And I would be face to face with Pete Davenport, my enemy and the most intriguing guy I’d ever met.
I was dizzy with anticipation.
He’s here to tear my family apart I staunchly reminded myself as the spire from the Mission style Catholic Church we attended came into view. I drove around to the back of the stucco structure—that looked like it was built solely upon earth and faith—to where the preschool program was located. All the kids were shrieking and going about the serious business of play— except for Mikey. He was sitting alone, on the top stoop, shoulders slumped. Uh-oh.
As I advanced to the playground, I smiled tentatively at his teacher and threw an encouraging wave at him. His face lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw me, then he bolted over, almost knocking me down with the force of his hug.
“Kadee! Mrs. Reyes is mad at me, but it wasn’t my fault! He gave it to me—I pwomise I didn’t take it fwum him, but I still gotted in trouble!” he frantically explained.
“It’s okay, buddy.” I squeezed his sturdy body. “We’ll get it all straightened out.” I was hoping to convey my support without saying too much of anything because Mrs. Reyes began weaving herself our way. She approached with a sad, starter smile on her creased face. I’ve seen worse looks before.
“Hi, Mrs. Reyes,” I greeted, warily.
“Good afternoon, Katie. How was your first day back to school?”
“It was fine, thanks for askin’.” I decided to cut to the chase. “What happened today?”