Believe in Us (Jett #2) (15 page)

I hold it in pretty well. I smile and laugh and revel in my victory of pretending to be the District Attorney’s assistant and saving the day. Jett doesn’t even suspect that anything is wrong, and that’s how I know I’m really pulling this off.

Normally he can read me like a freaking book, but tonight he just hangs out, being all romantic and fun and he doesn’t even mention once that something might be wrong with me. Maybe he was just too preoccupied with the horror of finding that shit posted online about him. Or maybe I’m just becoming a really good liar.

I hold his hand all the way back to my house, where we kiss at the back door and I tell him I love and he says he loves me, too. It’s a normal goodbye for us. As soon as he starts walking back home, I go inside, close the door behind me, and let the tears fall.

“Keanna!” Becca’s voice makes me jump, and I realize with humiliation that I’m not the only person in the kitchen, despite the fact that most of the lights are off. Only a glow from a light underneath the cabinets is on, but I see Becca sitting at the breakfast table, holding a package of Girl Scout cookies. She stands and rushes over to me. “What’s wrong, honey?”

I wipe away my tears and change the subject. “Are you eating cookies in the dark?”

She shrugs and glances back at the table, where her half-eaten package of Thin Mints waits. “I guess, yeah. But it’s not what it seems. I was just too lazy to bring them back to bed with me.”

“Can I have some?” I ask.

“Of course, but you’re going to tell me why you’re crying.”

Becca joins me at the table and we share the cookies in the near dark of the kitchen. I’m pretty sure she’ll never drop the subject, so there’s no point in trying to escape her inquiring gaze. Plus, the tears keep threatening to spill out of my eyes again, so I guess I should talk about it.

“Just some drama happened with Jett today,” I begin, biting into another cookie. “Some girl posted a story about him on a website, saying he can’t be trusted and then she went on to insult me because I’m his girlfriend.”

That’s the part I hadn’t told Jett about. Since he didn’t want to read the post himself, I’d only skimmed it out loud, but I read the whole thing to myself. They called me a
rat face
, and
desperate
. And
anorexic
. Whatever the hell that means, since I eat all the time.

Becca listens intently while I tell her all of this, summarizing all the points of the post for her even though I’d left them out for Jett. He would have just gotten mad and made things worse by trying to stick up for me. Luckily, I can stick up for myself, at least in public. Internally, I feel like shit.

“The post is gone now,” Becca says, handing me another cookie. “So you don’t need to worry about it anymore. I bet not many people even saw it.”

I shake my head. “That’s not the problem, really. I just—every single time I start thinking I might be worth it, that I might actually deserve happiness and a good relationship—crap like this happens and it slams me back into the real world where I don’t deserve anything good.”

“Honey, that is not true.” Becca’s eyes light up with that fiery mother look. It’s a similar look that Jett would have had if I’d told him what the article said about me. Protective. “The girls who post stuff like that online are the ones who don’t deserve happiness. And trust me, they won’t ever find it. They’ll bounce from guy to guy, get divorced a million times, and never be happy. They’re petty, jealous, and stupid. You are so much better than that. You can’t let them get to you.”

I smile, and it’s actually genuine. “Thanks, Mom.”

The words just kind of come out of me. Becca’s smile lights up the whole darkened room. “I like the sound of that,” she says, sitting straighter. She grabs another cookie. “We should have these talks more often.”

I laugh. “Once that baby is here, you’ll be getting called mom all the time.”

“And I’ll love it!”

When the cookies are gone, I’m feeling a little better from the mother-daughter chat. It still sucks deep down, and I know it’ll be hard for me to handle all of this pathetic drama from other girls at school. I still have to endure the occasional rude words or stuck up glare in the hallways.

“You know, you could look into homeschooling,” Becca says. “Hell, you and Jett could both do it. He used to beg to be homeschooled so he could focus more on motocross and now that he’s close to going pro, it might be a good option for him. That way you two could be happy together and not worry about those idiots in the school.”

“Isn’t that just running away from the problem?” I ask while I trace the chevron patterns on the placemats.

She shrugs. “Probably. But it could also be argued that you’re choosing a healthier way to live your life and be happy without letting the negativity of others get you down.”

I give her a pointed look. “That sounds like something on one of your paintings.”

She grins. “That doesn’t make it any less true. But think about it, okay? High school is overrated and you two could totally homeschool yourselves if you want. They do it all online now.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say. And then because she’s the greatest adopted mom in the world, I get up and give her a quick hug before heading to my room.

After a shower, where I let the hot water wash away my tears and the stresses of the day, I crawl in bed and call Jett.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says. The sounds of the Xbox roar in the background. “Hold on a sec.” I hear him shut off the TV. “What’s up?”

I try to sound neutral as I tell him all about Becca’s suggestion of us becoming homeschooled. Truth is, I’m not even sure how I feel about it. Part of me thinks it’d be awesome to sleep in late and teach myself, maybe even graduate early. The other part of me says the only reason I even went to school without getting a GED was to appease Jett, so we could have this fun high school experience together. So quitting it all would be kind of stupid, right?

“So what do you think?” Jett asks, when I’ve finished telling him everything.

I laugh. “I don’t know. I was hoping you’d tell me what
you
think.”

“I’ve already said how I feel about wanting to share high school with you,” he says, but his voice is strained. “Of course, focusing more on motocross and less on spending eight hours a day at school would be amazing.”

“So what do we do?” I ask as my head sinks into my pillow and I stare at the ceiling.

“I don’t know. Let’s just think it over or something. I think we could be strong and face this together. But if school gets worse over time, maybe we should quit and be homeschooled.” His voice turns seductive. “After all, we’d have a lot more time together . . .”

My stomach tingles at the thought of being next to him. “That’s always a good idea.”

“Okay so, we’ll think it over,” he says. “And we’ll just see where this crazy life takes us.”

“Sounds good. I miss you.”

He chuckles, but his voice is quiet. “I miss you more.”

There’s a soft knock on my bedroom door. “Hold on, someone’s at my door,” I say, hoping Becca doesn’t want another long chat right now.

“I’ll just let you go.”

“No! I’m not done talking,” I say, scrambling out of my sheets to go to the door.

“Neither am I,” he says. The door swings open and Jett stands there, cell phone to his ear, cheeky grin on his face.

I hang up my phone and give him a hug. “Becca didn’t complain about you being here so late on a school night?”

He shrugs. “She wasn’t around.”

I lift an eyebrow. He grabs my hips and backs me up until we’re inside my room, then he presses his forehead to mine and closes my door with his foot. “I have a house key, remember?”

“Sneaky,” I say, feeling blood rush to my cheeks. He smells like he’s just showered and his body wash is intoxicating. It’s like a magic spell that pulls me under every time.

“So,” he says, pulling my hips close against his. “Do you still miss me?”

“Mmhmm,” I murmur against his lips.

He kisses me, running his tongue across my bottom lip. “Great, because I’ve got just the remedy.”

Keanna’s jaw drops as I tell her about Ashley’s latest assault on my poor innocent butt today. We’ve successfully made it another week at school, and even though Keanna and I feel like pariahs sometimes with the way a select group of girls leers at us in the hallways, things are okay for the most part. Except of course, for History class with Ashley Lubbock.

“So she just
grabbed
it?” Keanna says, taking a bite out of her carrot stick. Recently she’s sworn off fries, because she eats way too much junk food with me.

“Yep,” I say, taking a sip of my orange soda. We’re the first in our group of friends to sit down in the cafeteria today, so we have a few minutes to talk to ourselves. “I was walking by, holding my poster board and she just reached up and grabbed it.”

“Like, the whole butt? Just one cheek?” Keanna asks. Her lips twist like she’s trying to hold back laughter.

“Like . . . one handed, one cheek. A full cheek cup.” I mimic the motion with my hand.

This makes her burst out laughing. “Wow. Just wow. I feel like I should be mad at her, but it’s just too hilarious.”

“You should apologize to my butt,” I say, leaning over so that part of my butt lifts off the seat. “Tell it you’re sorry for laughing at its pain. It was
assaulted
today, Keanna Park!”

She only laughs harder. D’andre walks up holding a tray with his and Maya’s food. Maya bumps into his back because she’s staring at her phone. “Whoops,” she says, backing up. “Wait, what’s going on here?”

She eyes Keanna and then me. “Is there hilarious gossip that I don’t know about? Spill it!”

Keanna moves her purse off the seat she’d been saving for Maya. Ashley Lubbock grabbed Jett’s precious butt cheek in class today.”

Maya’s hand flies to her mouth. She gasps extra loud and looks appalled, but in this exaggerated making-fun-of-me way.

“You guys are hilarious,” I say. I turn to D’andre who is too busy diving into his cheeseburger to care about what the girls find ridiculously funny. “I think our girlfriends should quit their day jobs and go on the road as comedians.”

He nods. “If all their material is just making fun of you, they’ll probably get rich as hell.”

I roll my eyes and focus back on my food. Keanna leans over and kisses my cheek. “You’re a good sport, baby.”

I give her a silly smile. “You know . . . if you were a good girlfriend, you’d beat up my bully for me,” I say, throwing her a wink.

Keanna shrugs. “Eh, I think Ashley would like that too much. The bigger punishment is to just ignore her and let her wallow in the painful realization that she’s not the center of attention.”

I nod. “Harsh. I like it.”

“So, you two thought more about quitting school?” D’andre asks. I’ve told him all about our possible-maybe-kinda-sorta idea to quit high school and be homeschooled. Of course, I spun it as a way to practice on my bike more and left out the main reason—that Keanna and I are the subject of severe scrutiny from all the girls in my past.

“I think we’re waiting until the Christmas break to decide,” Keanna says. She eats another carrot stick and then crumples up her face and reaches for one of my fries.

“Cool, cool,” he says. “You should stay for senior prom though. “Don’t make me go by myself.”

“Excuse you?” Maya says, slapping him on the arm. “You’ll be with
me
at prom.”

“I know, baby. I meant I need a guy friend with me, too.”

Maya rolls her eyes and gives Keanna a look. Keanna nods, affirming whatever thing they’re saying in girl language.

The conversation soon turns to the epic racing win I had last weekend. D’andre is both impressed and a little envious of my wins, so he’s been bringing it up every day this week.

It was the State Championships, which are a big deal in the amateur motocross world, and the fact that I won both of the classes I raced in is a pretty big deal. I’m just trying not to let it get to my head. The best part though?

Seeing my beautiful girlfriend cheering me on from the sidelines.

Of course, she had been standing next to my mom, so that took some of the sexiness away, but I loved it anyway. I love how excited Keanna gets when she watches me ride. I love that she practically jumped my bones after I’d thrown her a sign language
I love you
sign as I flew over the finish line jump.

That little move had been an unplanned last minute decision, but a photographer caught a picture of me doing it, and now all the major Texas motocross websites have a front page article of me and that glorious photo. Dad says it’s going to be epic for my career and that all I need to do is keep bringing in win after win and all of the upcoming races. People don’t really care about kid racers, but once you’re close to being eighteen, people take notice.

In three months, I’ll be seventeen and that will start the countdown until I can go pro. Sponsors and teams will be looking at my racing record and it’ll be very important that I have my shit together. So homeschooling is starting to look better and better every day.

*

After school, Keanna and I head over to The Track, where Keanna has agreed to pick up an extra shift so Becca can go with Mom to get the first baby ultrasound. Mom’s only two months along so she said it’s too early to see if the baby is a boy or girl, but they’ll be able to tell if it’s healthy and all of that other good stuff.

“I want pizza for dinner,” I say. I’m standing behind Keanna at the front desk, rubbing her shoulders. “Is pizza cool?”

“Are you ever not
thinking
about food?” she says, turning around and poking me in the stomach. Joke’s on her because I tighten my abs and all she gets is a finger of pure muscle. She rolls her eyes. I stick out my tongue.

Her silly expression turns into something more adoring. “I love that I can be a dork with you.”

“I love everything about you,” I say, kissing her.

The bells on the front door jingle and we both jump. The mail guy walks in holding a stack of envelopes over his eyes. “Don’t mind me, you lovebirds,” he says, slowly lowering the envelopes and winking. He’s a cool guy, barely older than we are, so I know he doesn’t care that he saw us making out. But it could have been a customer and that would have been bad. I need to keep my insatiable desire to be with Keanna in check, especially when I’m at work.

“Here ya go,” he says, handing over the mail.

Keanna thanks him and he leaves. She flips through the letters casually, and I run my finger down her neck just to mess with her.

“Um, Jett?” she says, handing me an envelope. It’s tan and the paper feels expensive, like someone’s graduation invitation. “I’ve never seen you get mail here before.”

I study the envelope, which has my name written in pen on the front. “That’s because I never have.”

I rip it open and pull out a few papers that look like some kind of registration form. My heart kicks into a higher gear as I skim over the first page. “This can’t possibly be what I think it is . . .” I say, handing the letter to Keanna. “Is it?”