Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) (33 page)

I
had to heave myself off of the couch because I’d been lying there for so long.
I stretched as I threw the magazine down on the coffee table and walked stiffly
toward the front door. I stifled a yawn and, although I knew the chances were
pretty slim, half hoped it was Tegan coming to surprise me and tell me her
family arrived home early.

I
opened the heavy door and felt a cold breeze make its way into the house and
shivered and chided myself for not wearing something warmer than my thin cotton
scooped necked tee.

The
first thing I noticed, after the cold hit me, was a grass green t-shirt with a
clipart picture of a lawnmower with the words “Push It. Push It Real Good.”
underneath.

I
felt a lump in my throat instantly and wanted to slam the door shut and run
away, but, instead, I looked up to confirm my assumptions and met Jackson’s
multicolored eyes. Today, they looked greener with a hint of gold around the
edge.

He
smiled as he greeted me. “Hey stranger.” Then he mused, “That rhymes with
Granger.”

Despite
my uneasiness, the sight of his grin still left me feeling a little winded.
“Hi,” I said, quietly.

“Can
I come in?” he asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It’s kind of cold out
here.”

“Oh!
Yeah!” I instantly felt stupid as I stepped back, opening the door wider so he
could step inside. I felt my face grow warm as I closed the door. “Sorry,” I
muttered. His unexpected presence left me feeling caught off guard and at a
loss for words. I leaned against the door as I turned to Jackson. “So,” I began
uncertainly. “What brings you by?”

“I
actually came by to make sure you hadn’t fallen off the face of the earth.” He
grinned to show he was teasing, but my heart stuttered.

“Why
would you think that?”

“Well,
you were online Monday, but then you left and never came back. Then I didn’t
see you at school Tuesday or Wednesday, and you haven’t been online but for a
few seconds over the weekend,” he shrugged. “When I saw you last Monday in the
library, you seemed upset when you left, so I just wanted to check on you.”

“Oh.”
I wasn’t sure how to reply to that. It made my belly fill with butterflies to
hear Jackson say he wanted to check on me. That meant he was worried, right? If
he was worried, that meant he cared about me, right? 

“I’ve
just been busy,” I finally said. It was a big, fat boldfaced lie, and as soon
as I said it, I felt just as guilty as I did after I blew Jackson off and
signed off of the Internet without a word.

Jackson
nodded and after a moment, he finally asked, “So, you’re not mad at me or
anything?”

My
mouth went dry, and it felt as if all of the blood drained from my face and ran
cold; I had to have gone pale. I didn’t know how to respond. His question—or
was it worry?—had to be in response to me blowing him off. I couldn’t think of
any other reason for him to ask.

I
swallowed the lump in my throat and dodged the question with a non-answer. “Why
would I be mad at you?”

Jackson
shrugged and looked around. “Honestly, I don’t know, but I guess it just seemed
like you were avoiding me.”

“Why
would I do that?” I knew by not actually answering his questions directly, I
was probably only making his suspicion grow, but I was curious. I wondered what
he thought he could have possibly done that would result in me growing upset
enough to avoid him.

“I
don’t know!” Even though his stance was causal and relaxed, his tone belied his
ease and gave proof of his exasperation. “That’s why I’m asking.”

The
scrunched look of sheer confusion that appeared on his face intensified my
guilt. Jackson and I were friends. If showing up to check on me wasn’t
confirmation of that, then I didn’t know what was. I felt like a terrible
person. I usually didn’t lie to anyone—especially those I considered
friends—but I didn’t know how to dig myself out of this hole of deceit I’d
mined.

“Well,
if you haven’t done anything to upset me, then there’s no reason for me to be
mad at you, is there?” I shrugged with a small smile of reassurance as I
glanced up, meeting Jackson’s kind eyes. The uncertainty I found in them had me
looking away quickly. 

“So
you’re not mad at me then?” He still sounded a bit unsure, but there was a hint
of hope in his voice.

I
shook my head and smiled fully for a second before biting my lip to keep from
giggling. The guilt was still present, but Jackson’s worry about whether or not
I was mad at him made me feel giddy with hope of my own.

Maybe
Tegan was right. She’d tried to convince me he liked me for me and perhaps not
only as a friend. I hadn’t taken her claims seriously; it seemed too
unbelievable. Gorgeous, funny guys like Jackson didn’t go after girls like me
when they could have someone like Skylar, who was equally gorgeous and
confident.

Even
though it went against the grain, Jackson was standing here, in front of me,
making sure I was okay and I wasn’t upset with him. For the first time, I
allowed myself to rethink things and take Tegan’s seemingly ridiculous ideas
into consideration. Maybe it really was possible that Jackson could really like
me.

Of
course, just as these thoughts entered my head, and I started to let myself
believe them, Skylar chose that moment enter the picture. She descended the
stairs, waving like she was some kind of pageant queen, as she said, “Hey
Jackson!”

“Hey,”
Jackson smiled, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he rocked on his heels.

“What’s
up?” Skylar asked as she reached the landing and walked over to Jackson and I,
looking back and forth between us.

“Not
much,” he shrugged. “Just talking to Silly.”

“Oh,”
she said, glancing at me briefly before her eyes flickered back to Jackson.
“So, did you have a good Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah,
it was pretty good,” he nodded. “Lots of great food. How was yours?”

“Oh,
you know,” she shrugged, smiling to reveal her perfectly straight pearly white
teeth.

The
sight of that smile caused a sudden intense feeling in my chest. It was like a
heavy, thick fog filling my lungs with dirty, black anger. Who’d asked Skylar
to join in on this conversation? Jackson wasn’t here to see her. Who did she
think she was flashing him her perfect smile?

I
had half a mind to blurt out that Skylar had to wear braces for close to three
years because her teeth were so crooked. I wanted to tell him she used to get
food stuck in them all of the time so he’d laugh at her the way Luke used to
when it happened. I knew it was mean and childish and chances were Jackson
wouldn’t laugh just because he didn’t seem the type to do that, but I half
wished he would. I just wanted Skylar to feel small, stupid, and insignificant
for once. Why did she always have to be in the spotlight?

I
missed most of what Skylar said and Jackson’s response to it as I let my anger
boil inside. Neither of them was even paying any attention to me. It was as if
I were no longer there. How did that happen? Jackson came to see me. Why wasn’t
he talking to me? Why wasn’t he asking me questions about Thanksgiving and
smiling broadly at whatever answer I gave?

It
all seemed so unfair, and jealousy reared its ugly head. I felt myself glaring
daggers at both of them as they spoke. Words weren’t even registering anymore.
I didn’t even care what they were saying. All I knew was Jackson was staring at
Skylar with that stupid look of admiration guys always gave her.

What
was there really to admire? Once you got past her looks, there wasn’t a whole
lot of substance. Not really, anyway. Skylar’s favorite topic was usually
herself, and the most interesting thing about her was her artistic ability, but
even that got boring pretty quickly. Dark, depressing drawings that made me
want to kill myself weren’t exactly worth getting excited over, were they?

The
longer I thought about it the more I began to wonder if Skylar even had any
talent at all. I knew it was mostly just anger making me harbor these feelings
toward my sister, but I couldn’t help myself. It seemed so unfair. Why did
Skylar always get everything? Why couldn’t I just have this? Why couldn’t
Jackson just be mine? I didn’t care if it was only as friends. I just didn’t
want Skylar butting in. It felt like as soon as she stepped into the room, I no
longer existed.

Any
feeling of guilt I had for ignoring or lying to Jackson no longer existed
either. In fact, I felt angry for letting him off the hook so easily. I should
have just confronted him about what Skylar said. I had half a mind to just jump
in and ask if this was the real reason he had stopped by—use the excuse of
coming to see me as a way to strike up conversation with Skylar. I chided
myself for being so stupid. I should have seen it sooner. Why would Jackson
care about me? He wouldn’t. He just missed having me as a means to get to
Skylar.

I
could feel myself starting to crumble. I’d allowed myself get my hopes up only
to have them smashed seconds later. I felt stupid, used, and just wanted to
crawl into a hole and die. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as I
watched Jackson and Skylar for a moment longer.

Finally,
I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed myself off from the wall and brushed past
them, wordlessly, and rushed up the stairs.

I
thought I heard Jackson call my name, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I didn’t
know what either of them would think of me rushing out of the room so quickly,
but I realized I didn’t care. In fact, I found it shocking they’d noticed at
all. Of course, it was probably harder to ignore me when I shoved past them,
reminding them of my presence.

When
I made it to my room, I slammed the door behind me, turning the lock for good
measure, before crawling into bed. Finally, I allowed the tears I’d been
holding back to spill over.

What
was I thinking? I asked myself for what seemed like the millionth times. It was
stupid to even hope, allow myself to consider, I could ever hold Jackson’s
attention when he could so easily have Skylar.

Sunday,
November 25
^th
, 2006

Roses
are red,

Violets
are blue.

My
name’s Cecilia.

How do
you do?

Everyone
who knows me calls me Silly.

Growing
up, I was rambunctious,

and not
at all frilly.

I like
a boy;

his
name is Jack(son).

Every
time he talks to me,

I have
a spaz attack.

His
hair is blue-black and eyes green-brown.

He once
gave me a ride home from town.

He’s
older and wiser and cooler than me.

My
sister says it’s plain to see.

He
wants to get to her through me.

I don’t
know if it’s true,

but if
it is, what shall I do?

While I
was often prone to daydreaming, I was usually good about shaking myself out of
it pretty much unscathed—and by unscathed I mean no one noticed the blank stare
that typically came with distant thoughts and wonderings of my imagination
running amuck. However, for first the time, at school on Monday I found myself
wondering if I was caught in a daydream I couldn’t shake myself out of because
the only other possibility was I’d stepped into an alternate reality; quite
possibly the twilight zone. 

The
day started off normal enough with me riding to school with Skylar.

She
asked, “What’s with running off like a lunatic last night?”

I
ignored her, deciding I was no longer speaking to her, and after a moment of
huffing around haughtily, like I’d offended her, she turned up the radio and
sang along with it the entire drive. It wasn’t until that morning I actually
realized my sister couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, and I wanted to rip her
tongue out, so she could never sing again, by the time we arrived at school.

I
immediately went to find Tegan, so I could tell her about what had happened the
night before. I’d wanted to call her, but I’d been unable to locate my handset.
I suspected Luke had likely nabbed it after misplacing his own, and I refused
to leave my bedroom—even when Mom came upstairs to tell me dinner was ready.

Stomach
growling, I’d lied through the locked door, claiming I wasn’t hungry because
I’d snacked all afternoon. It certainly wasn’t one of my best moments, and I’d
fallen asleep a hungry angry, sad liar.

“Oh,
Silly,” Tegan grimaced as she pulled me into a hug once I’d finished telling
her about my evening.

“It’s
just not fair,” I complained. “I don’t know why Skylar feels like she has to
butt in and take over everything.”

“She’s
not even really that pretty,” Tegan commented. I pulled out of our hug to look
at her face. I thought she had to be kidding, but, aside from scowling, she
seemed sincere.

I
might have agreed that Skylar had an ugly personality at times, but not even
Tegan, as much as I’d liked to believe her, could convince me that my sister
was anything but physically attractive.

Still,
the lie made me feel a little bit better.

“And
perk up,” Tegan added. “I’m still not sold on the idea that Jackson was there
to see Skylar.”

I
wanted to argue, but she held up a hand, cutting me off. “Let me tell you about
our trip to see my grandparents,” she said, sighing heavily.

I
raised an eyebrow, in askance, and she launched into the harrowing tale of the
drive that should have been two hours that turned into a four-hour drive. I
knew it was partly a distraction tactic, but I was happy to listen.

Tegan
was pretty great about being there for me when I needed to vent my
frustrations. She might not have agreed with my conclusions lately, but she allowed
me to feel angry and resentful without telling me I was wrong for feeling that
way.  I felt bad, though, because things had been so much about my drama
lately.