Art Geeks and Prom Queens (18 page)

The next day I’m walking home from school. Can you believe it? The most popular girl in the junior class (okay, after Kristi) is walking. I mean, Kristi, Kayla, and Jen Jen all had individual family obligations, JC left school early ‘cause he’s spending the weekend at his dad’s place in Palm Springs, and my mom is in L.A. being photographed by Mario Saldana.

It was supposed to be me, but I just couldn’t go through with it. It’s like, despite all the other changes in my life, the one thing that remains the same is that I don’t want to be a model. So I told her I wasn’t ready, which didn’t really make her back off. So then I spoke in a language that she could understand. I told her I was feeling too fat to be photographed.

“Well, you don’t just cancel an appointment with Mario Saldana!” she said. “He is very much in demand. Michael did us a huge favor by setting this up!”

But I just shrugged and said, “So why don’t you go instead?”

And right after she scowled at me, her eyes lit up. Then she picked up the phone.

Apparently they’re collaborating on a possible comeback.

Great.

So I’ve only covered about a block since the bell rang (because it’s hard to walk fast when you’re busy feeling sorry for yourself), when this black SUV with dark tinted windows pulls up next to me.

I don’t recognize the car so I pick up the pace, hoping it’s not some pervert intending on making me the next Amber Alert, when I hear someone go, “Hey, slow down.”

And when I look over I see purposely messy blondish brown hair, big blue eyes, and like the sexiest smile ever. It’s Tyler. So I don’t just slow down, I stop.

“Where you going?” He smiles.

“Home.”

Then he leans all the way across the seat and opens the door. “Get in, I’ll take you.”

I don’t even hesitate. I just slide in next to him.

“Why are you walking?” he asks, pulling away from the curb.

“Everyone’s busy, and I don’t have my license yet,” I say, staring at his gorgeousness while wishing he’d turn down that stupid Eminem CD.

“You’re kidding? How old are you?”

“Seventeen.” I bite my lower lip and rub my arm, ‘cause I’m feeling kind of nervous.

“Don’t you at least have a permit?”

I shake my head.

“Have you ever driven?”

I shrug.

“Wanna learn?”

“Okay” I say, assuming he means sometime in the distant future.

But he pulls over right then and goes, “Ready for your first lesson?”

By the time he dropped me off (after teaching me the basics and letting me drive for a block or two, he wisely took over again), I was convinced it was time to break up with JC.

And after he leaned over and kissed me good-bye, I was positive.

“See you Monday?” he asks, his face still close to mine.

I’m so overwhelmed I don’t trust my own voice. I just bite down on my lower lip and nod. Then I get out of the car, run into the house, and try to instant message Kristi, Kayla, and Jen Jen. But they’re not online. So I call. But they don’t answer. So I send a group e-mail.

Then I lie back on my bed and try to close my eyes, and replay everything that happened with Tyler. But I’m so full of energy that I can’t lie still. So I keep trying to call my friends, over and over and over again, but no one answers.

And then right when I give up, the phone rings. So I pick it up and go,
“Hello!
”

But it’s only JC. “Do you miss me?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” I say.

“That didn’t sound very convincing,” he says, laughing nervously. But I don’t say anything. I just sit there, trying to think of a good excuse to get off the phone. Because talking to him makes me feel guilty.

“Rio? Are you there?”

“Um, yeah. But my mom needs me to help her with something so I have to go.” Then I hang up before he can say anything else.

By the time my mom does come home I’m exhausted. I took all that guilt-fueled nervous energy and put it into finishing my homework, organizing all of my drawers, and rearranging my entire closet. And now as she sits on the edge of my bed going on and on about her stupid photo shoot, I can barely keep my eyes open.

She leans across the duvet, pats me on the knee and goes, “Poor baby, you’re really overbooking yourself these days, aren’t you?”

I just nod.

And after that I can’t remember.

My dad got home really early on Saturday morning, having taken the red-eye from New York. Usually when he does that, he heads straight upstairs for a nap since he says he can never really sleep on the plane. But this time when I came downstairs for breakfast he was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, and reading the paper while my mom was upstairs showering.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says.

“Hey,” I say, feeling groggy.

“I thought we could go over to Roger’s Gardens today and pick up some more plants for the back.” He smiles.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and go, “I can’t. I’ve got a paper I’ve got to finish by Monday.”

“We’ll only be gone for an hour or two,” he says, trying to convince me.

“Yeah, well, I really gotta get this done.” I feel kinda bad about not wanting to hang out with him like I used to but it’s not my fault he’s never here when I need him.

I hop onto the counter, and I’m sitting there drinking my coffee when he goes, “So how’s your art project coming along?”

“Okay.” I shrug.

“Just okay? I thought you were really excited about it. I thought this art show was some kind of big deal?” He looks at me closely.

“Well, it turns out it’s really not that big a deal,” I tell him. “It’s actually pretty small-time. So while I’m still turning in a project for a grade, I’m not submitting anything for the show. And I’m not helping to organize it either. I’m just superbusy with bigger things.”

He looks at me and nods. But there’s something more in his eyes that I don’t really want to see. So I quickly finish my coffee, place the mug in the dishwasher, and go back upstairs to my room.

On Sunday night, after I finish my paper, I go to Kristi’s. Kayla and Jen Jen are already there, and I’m really starting to regret that e-mail I sent, because now that two days have passed, the thrill of being kissed by Tyler has pretty much worn off.

Yeah, I still think he’s totally hot, but the fact is I already have a boyfriend. And even though it was just one kiss, I know JC would be totally crushed if he ever found out. I mean, he told me he loves me! But I just don’t love him, and I know we should probably break up before things go any farther, but I don’t really know how to do it without hurting him.

Anyway, I was really hoping my friends would just forget all about
it, so we could talk about other stuff, but they’re totally grilling me. So I’m trying to make it sound awesome (because I want to impress them), while also trying to downplay the significance (which is not as easy as it sounds).

“Oh, my god, I can’t believe you kissed him!” Jen Jen says. “He’s
so incredibly hot!
”

“What are you gonna do about JC?” Kayla asks.

“Nothing.” I shrug. “I mean, it’s not like I’m going out with Tyler or anything, it was just one kiss.”

“But you said he said, ‘see you Monday’ ” Jen Jen says.

“Well, yeah. We go to the same school, right?” I pick up the latest issue of
Lucky
magazine and start flipping through it, desperate to change the subject.

“I think JC has a right to know,” Kristi says, casually inspecting her cuticles.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because he’s your boyfriend.” She looks at me.

“Listen,” I say. “It was just one kiss. It’s really no big deal.” I look back at the glossy page, and try to focus on “Fifty Great Handbags!”

“That’s not what you said in your e-mail.”

“I was caught up in the moment!”
God, why won’t she just let it go?
“Well, I still think you owe it to him.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this.” I drop the magazine and shake my head. “You, of all people!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She gives me her infamous death stare.

“You’re like this firm believer in the random hookup!”

“This isn’t about me. It’s about
you.
And JC happens to be your boyfriend who told you he loves you,” she says firmly.

“Yeah, and you’re the one that said he probably didn’t mean it!” I glare at her. She’s really starting to piss me off.

“I don’t recall saying that. And if I did then I was probably just joking, and you took it seriously.”

“You weren’t joking. You guys heard her say that, right?” I look at Jen Jen and Kayla, but their eyes are fixated on the ground.

I shake my head and go, “Just let me handle it, okay?”

“Whatever. It’s not like it’s any of my business.” She rolls her eyes and shrugs.

The next morning I’m kind of dreading the ride to school with Kristi, because I don’t want her to get all judgmental about the JC-Tyler situation.

But she doesn’t even mention it. Instead she just goes on and on about how Drew called her after we left, and how she snuck him into her house and they totally hooked up right there in her room.

“Jeez, how many times have you guys hooked up now?” I ask.

“I lost count.” She shrugs.

“Are you guys, like, dating?”

She pulls into the student lot and goes, “He totally asked me to commit, but I’m just not ready to get myself all tied down like you. So I said we should just keep things the way they are.” Then she looks at my purse and goes, “Oh, my god, where did you get that?”

I smile and hold up my new Louis Vuitton bag. “My mom scored it for me.”

“Give me that,” she says snatching it. “That is so Louis Faux-ton.”

“No, it’s real. Look inside.”

She unzips and scopes it out, and after using my Stila lip gloss, she hands it back and goes, “I thought there was a waiting list.”

“My mom got it from Mario. They used it on a shoot and she got to keep it.”

“Nice.”

When I get out of the car I look for JC, because he’s usually in the parking lot tossing a football around with the other jocks while waiting for me. But he’s not here. And even though I’m not really anxious to see him, it still feels kind of weird.

By lunch, I still haven’t seen him so I ask Kristi if she has.

“Yeah,” she says, drinking from her can of Diet Coke. “He’s right over there. Are you guys in a fight or something?”

I don’t answer, because I really don’t know the answer to that. What
I do know is that when one of his friends sees me staring, he nudges JC. And then JC looks at me, then quickly looks away.

And it makes me wonder if we are in a fight. And if so, why? I mean, there’s no way he could know about me kissing Tyler because the only people who know about that are my best friends, and they would never tell. So it must be something else. Only I can’t imagine what.

I know I said I want to break up with him, and that’s still true. But the fact that he won’t talk to me kind of bothers me, especially when it might be my fault.

So determined to get to the bottom of this, I get up from the table and approach him. But when he sees me coming, he walks away. And I’m left standing there, staring after him like a total reject.

When I get back to my table, Kristi looks at me and goes, “Wow, looks like you guys are in a fight. I wonder if he found out about you and Tyler?” Then she smiles and takes another sip of her Diet Coke.

After school I’m walking to the student lot with Kayla, who promised to give me a ride home (since my boyfriend won’t talk to me and everyone else is too busy for me—which doesn’t make me feel very popular), when Tyler walks up and goes, “Ready for your next lesson?”

I glance at Kayla and she looks all alarmed and gives me this not-so-subtle head shake.

But I just ignore all that and go, “Okay.”

And Kayla says, “Um, Rio, are you sure you don’t want to go
with me?
” Still shaking her head.

But I just look at her and go, “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll call you later, okay?”

Then I turn my back on her disapproval and follow Tyler to his shiny, black Cadillac Escalade. I mean, if my boyfriend refuses to acknowledge me, then I’m free to do whatever I want, right?

Tyler hands me the keys to his SUV and goes, “You drive.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, hesitating.

“It’s insured.” He smiles.

I drive all the way home. And this thing is so seriously large and expensive that it makes me majorly nervous. I try to go slow and steady, but my hands are all shaky and even kind of sweaty, so when
I stop in front of my house, I discreetly wipe the wheel with the sleeve of my pink velvet shrunken blazer so he won’t be grossed out when he goes to touch it later.

Then I go, “How’d I do?”

“Excellent,” he says. “You’re a natural.”

We sit there smiling at each other, and I can feel my stomach growing all tight and nervous. Then he looks over at my house and asks, “Is anyone home?”

I look at the driveway, scanning for my mom’s car. “Yeah, my mom’s home,” I say, even though her car’s not there. But I just don’t trust myself to be completely alone with him in a house with five bedrooms and no chaperones.

“Bummer.” He shrugs.

And when I look at him again, I wonder if I did the right thing, because there isn’t one girl in my entire school who wouldn’t trade places with me now. Thinking about that makes me want him even more.

He pushes a button on his stereo and the song switches from middle-class, white-boy rap to something softer, less angry. And as he moves toward me I can hear the leather on his letterman’s jacket rubbing across the seat.

And then he’s kissing me, and one of his hands is buried in my hair, while the other is slowly, carefully sliding its way down my shoulder, down my arm, and then over to my left breast.

Then right as he’s angling his hand up under my double-layered Abercrombie & Fitch tank tops, I hear someone go, “Hey, Rio!”

I immediately pull away, and cover my mouth with my hand. And when I turn I see JC, sitting in his dad’s Porsche, parked right next to us.