Collateral Damage (25 page)

Closer.

Closer.

She's studying her phone, typing a text message. I ease next to her just as she yawns.

"Good morning, Sunshine." I bend my head low, whispering the words directly to her ear. She shifts, and I catch flowers. Like her pillow. Like last night. It leaves me reeling, my head spinning from a natural high—the best kind of high.

She closes her phone and faces me. Traces of insomnia linger. Her eyes are glassy, tired, the skin beneath her lashes a faint purple.

"No thanks to you," she replies. And for a second I can't quite read her expression. The tone of her voice. I begin to imagine she's sorry for everything that happened—that she wishes she never let me climb through that third floor window. "When I finally got to bed," she continues, removing a book from her locker, "it was like, three-thirty in the morning. My alarm goes off at six-thirty. That means if I fell asleep right away, I'm running on three hours of sleep. And I'm gonna be honest with you. I didn't fall asleep right away."

The words send a shiver skittering up my spine.

She didn't fall asleep right away.

She was there.

I lean against the locker beside hers, adjust my backpack, run fingers through my hair. I glance around us to make sure no one is eavesdropping, but everyone is distracted, fully absorbed in their own little worlds. We might as well be the only two people in the hallway. The only two people on this planet. "Yeah, well, you didn't have a ten-minute walk or a twenty-minute drive home. I'm running on two hours.
If
I fell asleep right away."

"We should've just stayed up," she says.

I smile at the idea. "Scandalous."

She throws her bag over her shoulder and skims the crowd, and for the first time I wonder where Hanson is. Why he's not here. If we're safe. But Jaden doesn't seem concerned. "I feel sorry for everyone around me, because by lunchtime...it's over. I'm going to be a total beyotch."

I laugh. Jaden? A bitch? "I doubt that."

"Don't," she replies, voice serious.

No. The words
Jaden
and
bitch
don't even belong in the same sentence. "There's no way Jaden McEntyre gets bitchy in public," I say, shaking my head. "That's just not happening."

"Believe it, because it happens."

"Not in public. You might go home and yell into your pillow or freak out in the mirror, but you don't lose your cool in front of people, even if you
have
come dangerously close."

Her eyes roll dramatically. "I hate how you think you know me," she mutters, swiping her fingers across the Harvard crest before shutting her locker door.

"Yeah, well, give me fair warning if you
really
plan to go postal on someone today, because I'd
pay
to see it."

"If you're lucky you'll be on the receiving end. Oh, that reminds me. Here, take this."

She holds out her purse. A tiny black thing. With fringe. And this moment—me standing next to her in this hallway, us talking to each other—becomes a little more surreal. Jaden, holding out her purse, confident, asking me to take it like we've done this very thing a million times before, on a hundred mornings exactly like this one.

"It's just for a second," she assures me.

I take it from her, hesitant. She slides her backpack off her shoulder and unzips it, then removes a brown paper bag. She trades the bag for the purse. Just a second—just like she promised.

"What's this?" I ask, opening it, peering inside.

"Lunch."

"So we're beyond the soda and potato chips?" I ask.

"Sun Chips—there's a difference—and yeah, I packed you everything I packed for me."

"I can't believe you're bringing my lunch now."

"Would you rather eat pork rinds and beanie weenies? God, Parker, it's no wonder you don't bring any food to school. And I'm sorry, but I'm officially foregoing the sodas. First, because they're bad for you, and second, Phillip was pissed the other night because they keep disappearing. But, more importantly, they're bad for you."

"First, I didn't tell you about the pork rinds so you'd feel sorry for me. And second...you were right. You really are kind of bitchy."

She rubs her eyes, exhales an exhausted sigh. "I told you if you weren't careful.... I swear...sleep deprivation brings out the worst in me."

"You know," I say, examining the contents of the bag, "It's okay. Because ham and cheese is my absolute favorite...and an apple? It's like, the lunch of champions."

"It doesn't get much better than that, right?"

"Only if you were eating with me." The words escape my mouth, pass my lips, before I even realize what I'm saying.

Did I just ask her to eat lunch with me?

She giggles, but it's nervous, unsure. "I'd love to, except I got so much flack last time. If I do it again I'll be forced into some kind of intervention. Why don't you eat with me?" Her fingertips brush the sleeve of my jacket, sending a chill rippling up my arm. "Come on, I'll introduce you to Savannah and Ashley. They're
so
great."

The warning bell rings. She jumps, startled, jerks her hand away. We head down the hall, walking in step.

"I doubt that would go over very well," I say.

"You mean Blake."

"I don't think he'd appreciate my being there very much."

She considers this. "Probably not."

"But if you change your mind you know where to find me."

We continue walking in silence, hallway chatter filling the space between us, and as we make our way through the crowd I realize: we have successfully managed to draw these people out of their little circles. They're watching us now. Whispering.

Jaden McEntyre and Parker Whalen?

It's like, Beauty and the Beast.

Christine and the Phantom.

Esmerelda and Quasimodo.

Catherine and Heathcliff.

Mattie Silver and Ethan Frome.

If Jaden notices, she doesn't let on, doesn't let it bother her. "So," she says, stopping outside Ms. Tugwell's classroom, "how long do you think it'll take for us to fall asleep in this class?"

"Depends on how warm the room is," I reply, reaching for the doorknob. "Let's at least try to stay awake long enough for her to take attendance." I pull the door open and let Jaden walk through. "She wants us to be
present
. She never said anything about being coherent."

*
    
*
    
*

As much as I want her to, Jaden doesn't join me for lunch. As hard as I watch that cafeteria door, she never pushes her way outside. Not that I expected it. So I sit at my usual picnic table, eating the lunch she made for me, making zero progress on my Biology reading.

Because I can't stop thinking about her—her smile, her eyes, how she sometimes chews on the ends of her hair when she thinks no one is watching—this girl who is supposed to be my English partner who somehow, in the last few weeks, has become something more.

Something important.

Something too important to ignore.

Too important to let go.

And then I think of Callie, and guilt rots my stomach. Callie, who's loved me for the past four years. Callie, who's stuck by me. Callie, who's planning to marry me so we can spend the rest of our lives together.

Everything happened so fast.

What if she didn't find that ring? What if I would've spoken up? What if I would've told her it was a mistake?

What if Jaden wasn't in high school? What if everything we were doing wasn't wrong at all?

I shut my science book, unable to concentrate—to focus on the words.

This isn't normal. It's not
me
.

I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I'm lying to every single person in my life. I'm engaged to one girl and sneaking around with another. I don't know this person—this me I've become. I don't know who I am anymore—only that I like who I am when I'm with
her
, and I like who she is when she's with
me
.

*
    
*
    
*

I'm not looking for her.

I head down the hall, shouldering my way through the crowd, not looking for her.

She isn't at her locker, anyway. She's probably in the lobby, sitting at her table, already on to the next cause. A penny drive for cancer research? Coupon books to help build a church in the Congo? Confirming this, however, is out of the question. I can't turn back now. I can't go searching for her. So I press on, heading toward the exit.

"Parker!"

At first I think I imagined hearing my name shouted above the conversations, the sound of locker doors banging shut. Aside from Jaden, there isn't a soul at this school who'd try to flag me down mid-hallway.

But when I hear it again, I stop, and I turn, and I wait for Brandon Garrels to catch up to me. "Hey, man," he says, breathless. "I was wondering if you had a chance to talk to Vince about me, yet." He keeps his voice low, glancing furtively around us for potential eavesdroppers.

"I haven't," I confess. "It hasn't come up. You know Vince. Timing has to be right."

He nods, understanding, and it dawns on me: Brandon
knows
. He can name names. Point fingers. He knows who's "in" with Vince De Luca. I
need
Brandon.

"You partying this weekend?" I ask.

"Planning on it."

"Cool. Maybe I'll see you around."

I hold my hand out, he slaps it, and we bump fists. "Absolutely."

I push through the double doors and into the afternoon. And as soon as I step onto that sidewalk, I know something's changed. Something's different. The entire world is bright. Glowing. I glance at the sky, squinting back the sun.

The sun.

It's out. It's burning off clouds, warming the air.

And my first thought, when I see this, is of Jaden. I search for her. Every face, every brown ponytail with a bag slung over its shoulder. I want to find her. I want to grab her by the wrist and pull her out here so she can see this, too. I want to see the smile on her face when she looks up at the sky and realizes winter's over. That the sun—it still exists.

My next thought?

I have to talk to Callie.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-F
IVE

"I'm not sure how I feel about playing paintball with first responders with hours of gun instruction," Erik says.

"Relax," I reply, adjusting my facemask. "You're playing on my team, and I don't lose."