Identical (24 page)

Out of my mouth, and the strange

thing is, I really mean it. But still,

I feel all jumbled up inside,

like someone put my brain in

a blender, turned it to “crush.”

Ian’s eyes tell me he feels the same

way.
I love you, too, you know I do.

But you always have me walking

on eggshells. Oh, if you would just

let me love you the way I want to…

Fire. Ice. Honey. Salt. Eiderdown.

Iron. Every fiber of me twitches

confusion. I love him, and he loves

me. So, then, “Why did you tell

your brother that I sleep around?”

He draws back, but only a little,

only enough to look deep into

my eyes, show me the sudden

anger in his.
I never said any such

thing. Did he tell you I told him that?

“He said he heard you say I’m

into other guys. Why would

you say that? And who did you

say it to?” Before he can craft

an answer, the second bell rings.

On smirking. But noticing

how the smiles drop from both

Shaun’s and Madison’s faces,

I can’t seem to

help

it. Booyah! Major smirk.

It gets better. Madison is no

more than two feet away

when Ian bends down to kiss

me

good-bye. I so totally let him,

even though a very, very big

part of me needs him to give

me a plausible explanation so

I

can get beyond his brother’s

knife-edged words. “Talk to

you later,” I say as he walks

past Madison. I can’t help but

think

she’s responsible, and I’m not

sure what to do about it if Ian’s

story involves her. Ian. All

thoughts of Madison evaporate.

I’m in love.

And I like how that feels.

And I hate how that feels.

Because love is an invention

of fiction writers.

Means more than “How’s it going?”

Not that I’m a smile expert or

anything, but something about

that one sure reads “Damn, you

look fine.” Even correctly

interpreted, though, it doesn’t

necessarily mean, “Let’s sneak

on outta here and do the dirty.”

Whatever it means, as he passes

out Monday’s graded pop quizzes,

he bends just enough for me to make

out the thick ropes of muscles

beneath his trousers. Abductors.

Hamstrings. Gluteus. Mm-hmm.

Oh yeah, I remember human

anatomy. Especially his.

Committed to memory. He works

his way down the aisle, and now

his cologne settles around me,

a soft, masculine cloud. When

he reaches my desk, he leans

slightly forward, and I notice

the not-too-massive, totally

hot patch of blondish hair

peeking out of the open

buttons just below his collar.

His eyes smile.
Great job,

Ms. Gardella. If only everyone

in here cared about history

the way you do.
He holds

out my quiz, a big red A+

at the top. When I reach for

it, our hands touch. Definite

fireworks, and I’m 90

percent sure it’s mutual.

I try to say thanks, but

my voice feels like a wad

of gum in my throat and it

comes out all hoarse and weird,

“Th…nksss.” That makes me

snort a little laugh. “Sorry.

Not sure what’s in there…”

I leave the rest hanging.

And he so totally gets it.

I mean, how many guys do I need on the line?

I haven’t seen Mick in several days, but he left

a voice message on my cell:
Are you mad

at me or what? Call me. You’ll like what I’ve got.

I assume he’s talking weed. It’s been a couple

of days and the truth is, I’m so wanting a buzz.

I could call Ty, ask for a bit steeper high (low?).

Oh yeah, how low can we go? Loaded question.

But even without those two on my “available”

list, why would I even consider Mr. Lawler?

He’s not only “mature,” but a frigging teacher.

Cute teacher, sure, but that’s not the point.

The point is: Why do I think he’d consider me?

And I’m good at games,

and betting Lawler is good

at them too. I watch him

lecture, trying to reach these

dimwads who couldn’t care

less about why yesterday

influences today, thus creates

tomorrow. He’s so sincere,

so well-learned (so disgustingly

cute), and I seem to be the only

one who even bothers to notice.

More power to me, I guess.

And power, after all, is what

I’m after. At last, the bell

rings and once everyone leaves,

I decide to up the ante a little.

(Okay, a lot.) I corner Mr. Lawler.

“Excuse me. I’ve got some

questions about the term paper.

Could we possibly get together

to discuss the direction I’m taking?”

That’s the name of this game,

old as the Garden of Eden.

I lead. “I’d appreciate your

advice. Maybe after school?

His eyes flash interest.

After school? Why not now?

I shrug. “Have a lunch date.”

He smiles.
I see. Well…

“Please? I’ll buy you a cup

of coffee.” I lock his eyes.

He does not look away.
I can

give you some time, I guess.

Ka-ching! Damn, he is fine.

Where should we meet up?

“How ’bout the library in town?

I’ll be doing some research.”

Sounds like a plan. Maybe

around four o’clock?

“Perfect.” He so totally is.

And he so totally knows it.

Have a lunch date. I haven’t

seen Mick since the scene

with the cop. Can’t believe

I miss him, but I do. He’s not

the brightest guy out there,

for sure. But he knows how

to show a girl a good time.

Truth is, more than missing

Mick, I miss catching a lunchtime

buzz. I wish I could just

buy a personal stash, keep it

around. But no way do I dare

take that kind of a chance. Not

sure who would kill me first

(or worst)—Daddy or Mom.

Not to say I won’t taunt fate

just a little. Or maybe a lot.

I refuse to smoke in transit.

That cop probably looks for

the Avalanche. And me. So

after Mick and I rendezvous,

we will take a little spin to

the Gardella residence, which,

hopefully, will be vacant.

I will not taunt Madison, who

seems ever more determined

to interfere in my life. Not to

mention Kaeleigh’s life, like
she

needs any more drama! I couldn’t

help but notice her with Ian

this morning. If she could be

like that with him more often,

they both just might find a big

scoop of happiness with each

other. But that won’t happen

if Madison has her way. Guess

she thinks fucking with Kaeleigh

is fucking with me. And she’s right.

Anyway, I’m not in the mood

for her stupidity, so instead of

Mick picking me up at school,

I told him to pick me up at

El Rancho. The market has

served the fine folks here in

the valley since before I was

born. Glad to know some things

have staying power. In my

admittedly limited realm

of existence, El Rancho has

outlasted every relationship

I’ve ever had. Then again, in my

realm relationships are meaningless.

A hundred or so yards, pause

before crossing the highway.

And who should happen to go

screaming past but my unique

(if meaningless) relationship, Ty.