Deep Green: Color Me Jealous with Bonus Content (6 page)

Although, I don’t have the same nonviolent feelings toward Shawna. Sometimes I actually wish I
could
run into her, as in run her down in the middle of the street with my car—hopefully in her cheerleading uniform, leaving this big red and blue blob smeared across the pavement. Okay, not really, since that’s totally gross, not to mention illegal and actually pretty evil. But sometimes I feel as if I’d really like to hurt her.

Because, believe me,
she is asking for it
. Every single day this week so far, and this is only Wednesday, Shawna has blatantly flaunted their relationship right in my face. Now, I’ve tried to take Ashley’s advice to “just move on,” at least as far as appearances go. And to the casual observer I’m sure that it looks like I have moved on since I go around wearing my little happy mask all day. I smile and laugh and carry on like my heart’s still in one piece, but beneath it all, I am dying.

And does Shawna have one single ounce of sympathy for me? Does she care how I may be feeling? Forget about it! She is one twisted devil chick. I think about how careful I was of her feelings when Timothy and I were together, how I tried not to flaunt our relationship. Well, Shawna seems to get her kicks out of torturing me. Believe me, she’s an expert at twisting the knife she so gracefully slipped into my back the night of Ashley’s party.

“Timothy says that the basketball team is looking really good,” she said to Amber at practice this afternoon, like anyone was asking. Of course, Shawna always saves these comments until she is absolutely sure I’m within earshot. “You should’ve seen their scrimmage last night,” she continued loudly. “Timothy is playing better than ever. It was awesome. I wouldn’t be surprised if we go to state this year.”

I exchanged glances with Ashley and saw her mouth the word “chill” at me, but it was all I could do not to explode into a bazillion hot pieces. I guess I should be thankful for my expertise as a gymnast at times like that, because I simply walked away and acted like I was practicing a series of flips through the gym. Thankfully, it actually helped to relieve a little tension. Amber and Ashley gave me a nice little round of applause when I finished, and I put on my happy mask and gave them a flamboyant bow. I think I saw a slight scowl on Shawna’s face just then, like perhaps she was worried that Jordan Ferguson still had it, like maybe I was still something of a threat to her. And consequently a small, barely perceptible ripple of satisfaction ran through me.

I suppose moments like that fuel the teeniest bit of hope in me. And I start to think that if I really applied myself I might be able to use my talents and charm and perseverance to get Timothy back. It encourages me to think that Shawna knows this too, and I think it worries her. But I refuse to make my move until I have a solid and foolproof plan.

But so far, I think the way I’m handling this is working for me. For one thing, I’ve garnered more support within the cheerleading circle. Everyone thinks I’m being a super good sport, and having Ashley solidly on my side hasn’t hurt anything either. And it all seems to be making Shawna increasingly nervous.

Like yesterday at lunch, after I’d managed for a whole day and a half to act like everything was totally cool, Shawna finally pulled me aside and said, “We’re okay, aren’t we, Jordan?”

I forced a smile to my lips and just shrugged. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

She laughed nervously. “Well, you know . . .”

“Hey,” I said in my most nonchalant tone, taking a quick glance around to make sure that no one else could hear me. “If you have to have sex in a
bathtub
just to win Timothy back, well, you just go, girl.” Then I slapped her on the back, laughed, and walked off to join Ashley. And I quickly told Ashley something completely unrelated but pretty funny, and we both threw back our heads and laughed. Ashley has the best laugh. It just rolls across the room like a bowling ball. Then I glanced back over to where Shawna was standing and gave her a look that suggested we had just enjoyed a joke about her.

I must admit I am slightly surprised by how mean I can be. I didn’t used to be like this. Even when I noticed the hurt look in Shawna’s eyes, I didn’t care. If anything, I was glad. And even though I pretty much know exactly how she feels, I still don’t feel sorry for her. Maybe I should be concerned that I could be turning into a totally selfish and heartless person. But mostly I’m not that worried, because what I did seems like
nothing
compared to what Shawna did to me. And, as Amber says, all is fair in love and war.

Speaking of love, Timothy did apologize to me on Monday. And I could tell he was really sorry too, like he’d been caught up in something that hadn’t been his real intention.

“I feel really bad, Jordan,” he told me in the parking lot after a full day in school, where it felt like he’d been avoiding me like the plague. I’d never thought of Timothy as a coward, but I suspect he felt pretty uncomfortable.

I stood up a little straighter, actually hopeful that this could be the moment I’d been waiting for. I looked into his eyes with an expression that I hoped conveyed just how deeply wounded I’d been. And his features seemed to soften as he looked down at me. I was thankful that I’d taken care to dress just right, every hair in place, makeup perfect.

“Yeah, I feel bad too,” I told him in a very gentle voice.

“I honestly didn’t mean for that to happen, Jordan. I guess I was just mad that you went to the party without me, and then I was drinking way too much. I never meant for things to turn out this way.”

I shook my head in a sympathetic way. “Me neither.”

“Because we really had something, Jordan,” he continued. “You and me. I really felt like my relationship with you was different.”

I nodded without speaking.

Then he shoved his hands into his letter jacket and looked up at the sky for a moment as if he was trying to figure things out. “But maybe it’s for the best, you know?” He sighed deeply. “I mean, maybe it was just meant to be like this.”

I felt a wave of disappointment break over me, but just the same, I managed to maintain my best poker face and simply said, “Maybe so, Tim.”

“So, you’re really okay with everything, Jordan?” He looked hopeful now, like he thought he was getting off the hook really easy. And I suppose after all Shawna had put him through a few weeks back, I must’ve seemed like a real pushover.

“Well, you really hurt me, Timothy,” I told him. Now this was true enough. “And I guess you showed me that you’re not the guy I thought you were.”

He frowned slightly. Had I hit a nerve?

“So why should I have a problem if you want to go back to someone like Shawna?” I made a face like I was smelling a pair of dirty socks. And that’s when I lied to him. “I mean, why would I want you back at all after that?” Then I kind of smiled in this sad way as I opened the door of my car. “Have a nice life, Timothy.”

Somehow I managed to drive away in what I’m sure appeared a perfectly calm and controlled manner, but inside I was hurting and furious and actually seething by the time I was half a block away. And when I was two blocks away, I was actually screaming at the top of my lungs. Of course, I realized I had totally forgotten cheerleading practice after school. And so I pretended like I was simply driving to the local convenience store, where I went in and bought myself a huge Coke and a big package of Whoppers to share with the other girls. No one seemed to notice how hoarse my voice was at practice.

So this has been my little game plan—playing it cool—and so far it is better than nothing and has probably kept me from totally losing it. But I still feel like I’m getting nowhere and I wonder if I need to take it up a notch or two.

As a result, I have to ask myself,
What does Timothy Lawrence really want?
I know he and I really had something, and although I must admit that a part of it was physical attraction, there was something more too. I mean, when we talked, we
really
talked. He confessed to me that he’s worried about what happens after high school, and he can’t decide which college to go to, and he’s afraid he won’t play ball well enough to get a scholarship. He told me sweet, sensitive things—things I’m sure he doesn’t tell anyone else, things I would never dream of repeating. And I also remember him telling me, right after he broke up with Shawna, that their relationship had been empty and shallow and how he wanted something more—someone who really understood him, someone who knew how to listen and really care, something that he told me I had and Shawna didn’t.

So after cheerleading practice I went home and made a list. I know I should’ve been studying for my history exam tomorrow, but somehow I just couldn’t focus. Instead I made this list and taped it to the back of his picture, which I still keep on my dresser.

What Timothy Wants

1. A girlfriend who really listens to him. Someone who cares. Someone he can talk to about important things
.

2. A girlfriend who’s popular, since he’s in with the “in” crowd.

3. A girlfriend who’s available when he needs her around. He’s one of those guys who really enjoys having a girl hanging on to him a lot of the time
.

4. Lots of friends. He loves having his friends around him.

5. Lots of laughs. He likes being the center of attention
.

6. Fun. This is a guy who loves to have fun.

7. To star in basketball. He adores this sport.

8. To get a scholarship in basketball. It’s possible.

9. To graduate. He told me he can’t afford to lose a single credit this year
.

10. To have sex. Okay, no beating around the bush here. This seems to be pretty important to him
.

And that was where my list abruptly ended—on number ten,
To have sex
. Wouldn’t you know it?

In all fairness, Timothy isn’t
just
about having sex. Like I said, we had a great time for more than two weeks of dating without ever feeling too much pressure to go to bed together. We talked and laughed and totally enjoyed being together. It was only toward the end of our short-lived relationship that this came up, which made me wonder,
Had he and Shawna been having sex all along?
Duh. Why hadn’t I ever thought to ask her about this while we were still friends? Sheesh, I can be so totally naive sometimes.

And so I called Ashley. “Did Timothy and Shawna have sex?” I asked somewhat abruptly.

She laughed. “You’re the one who caught them in the tub.”

“No, I mean
before
that. When they were going out together
before
the Harvest Dance breakup.”

A long pause. “Why are you asking me this?”

“I just want to know.”

“What do
you
think, Jordan?”

“I think they did.”

“Bingo.”

Now I paused.

“Does it really matter, Jordan? I mean, I thought you had moved on and were just dealing with it. We’ve all been really proud of you.”

I realized it was time to put on my happy mask again. “Yeah, I have moved on, Ashley. I guess I was just curious is all. Now I know. No big deal.” And then I started asking her about her mom’s shop in the mall. Ashley had told me that I could probably work there if I wanted, especially during the Christmas season.

“You really interested in a job?” she asked.

“Kind of. I wouldn’t mind having some extra money. And it’d sure beat babysitting my little brother and sister.”

Finally, sure that I had convinced her I wasn’t obsessing about Timothy and Shawna, I hung up the phone and immediately began wondering how far I would really go to get Timothy back.

I flashed back to that scene of the two of them floundering around in that stupid oversized bathtub, and to be perfectly honest, it was pretty disgusting. But then it wouldn’t have to be like that. Would it?

eight

I
DON’T THINK I’VE EVER REALLY HATED ANYONE BEFORE. I MEAN, I REALLY
disliked Miss Jones, my third-grade teacher, especially after she humiliated me by making me sit in the hallway for talking. But I don’t recall experiencing this venomous emotion, the kind of thing I would describe as real honest-to-goodness hatred, that I presently feel toward Shawna Frye.

She completely and thoroughly disgusts me. I can barely stand the sight of her. Even the sight of her streaky blonde hair flashing down the hall makes me want to barf. Of course, she’s not a real blonde, and judging by her roots I suspect that her natural hair color is kind of a boring, muddy brown. No wonder she wants to cover it up. She’s such a phony. I don’t see how Timothy can stand her. I cannot believe I ever considered her my friend or thought that I was hers. She is a manipulative, lying, stealing, cheating hypocrite. And it’s plain to see she’s still got her sights set on me.

I mean, isn’t it bad enough that she stole Timothy from me? Any normal person would call it even at this point. But no, it’s like she’s got to keep this personal vendetta going. I think her goal is to knock me down so low that I will just tuck my tail between my legs and crawl under a rock somewhere, whimpering as I go.

“You’re not doing that move right, Jordan,” she told me at cheerleading practice today.

“What?” I put my hands on my hips and stared at her.

Then she demonstrated—or showed off, depending on how you look at it—exactly
how
the move is “supposed” to be done.

“Is that right?” I asked Amber, since she calls the shots.

She nodded.

“Well, fine.” Ignoring Shawna, I proceeded to do the move “correctly” for Amber.

“That’s better,” said Amber.

“Well, a little,” said Shawna in her snootiest voice. “But Jordan still needs to work on it.”

“It looks okay,” said Ashley.

“Yeah, if
okay
is good enough,” said Shawna. “But Ms. Brookes says we have to be absolutely perfect if we want to make it into finals at Flair Fair next month. That means we have to be a whole lot better than just
okay.”