Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) (35 page)

Every
time I glanced at Tegan, hoping maybe she’d figured out what was going on, she
had the same blank expression of befuddlement I felt. It wasn’t exactly
encouraging, but it was somewhat comforting not to be the only one who felt
that way.

Before
anything more could be said, the bell rang. Mark heaved a sigh and stood.
“Well, I’ll see you around,” he shrugged before he stalked off.

After
he crossed the cafeteria, I turned to Tegan, who—like me—was still rooted
firmly in her seat. “What the hell just happened?” she asked slowly, brows knit
together.

I
shook my head when I couldn’t come up with an answer. “I thought I was
hallucinating,” I confessed.

Tegan
nodded, “So did I.”

We
both jumped when someone came up behind us and put their arms around our
shoulders. Tegan shrieked, though it went unnoticed as people exited the
cafeteria, but I heard it and was fairly certain she’d busted one of my
eardrums.

“Damn,
I didn’t know you were a banshee.”

Tegan
and I turned, surprised and relieved, to find my brother hunched over, cupping
his ear as he looked between the two of us. For a moment I’d been afraid Mark
had realized the oddness of his own behavior and had returned to set things
straight.

“Hey,
was Mark bothering you again?” Luke asked quietly.

My
eyes widened. I’d suspected he’d overheard my conversation with Mom, but now I
knew for sure. I didn’t think I even registered on Luke’s radar at school, but,
shockingly, I realized he had to be watching and paying attention if he was
asking now. I realized he really had to be concerned since he was actually
speaking to me out in the open where anyone could see.

After
I recovered from the astonishment, I managed to answer, but the words that came
out sounded so strange. “Actually, no, he was being . . .” I searched for the
right word, but the one I wanted to use sounded so strange on my tongue.

“Nice,”
Tegan finished for me. She sounded equally mystified.

Luke’s
bushy eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

I
nodded.

“Was
he stoned?”

I
looked to Tegan for her opinion, but she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Me
either,” I admitted.

“Weird,”
Luke said. He considered for a moment before he finally shrugged. “Well,
whatever the deal is, we need to get going before the bell rings.”

Tegan’s
eyes widened and I made a face. Class was the last place I wanted to go, but
we’d already been late for Journalism a number of times. I didn’t think it
would do to be late again. Tegan seemed to be thinking along the same lines
because we said a quick goodbye to Luke, who I still couldn’t believe spoke me
to at school, before we hurried off to our lockers. 

I
wasn’t sure what to make of the incident with Mark, but I was certain Tegan and
I would be having a long talk about it later. After all, lunch in the twilight
zone could not be ignored.

As if
Mark’s appearance at lunch on Monday wasn’t enough, the weirdness continued on
through the week. Tuesday was much like Monday. There were plenty of blank
stares and uncertain silences between stilted conversations on Tegan and my
part while Mark seemed thoroughly unfazed, as if he hadn’t done a complete
about face. He acted as if it were normal for us to sit together at lunch and
chat like old pals.

Tegan
and I had discussed the situation at length on Monday at Tegan’s house after
school. Though we attempted to make sense of it, the only conclusions we came
to were either Mark lost his mind or we’d really slipped into an alternate
reality.

By
Wednesday I’d decided I couldn’t take another uncomfortable half hour of
sitting across from Mark at the lunch table without getting some answers first,
so before Mark could launch into casual chit-chat, I spoke up.

“Mark,
I don’t mean to sound rude or anything, and I’m not complaining either,” I
began.

He
was holding his sandwich in the air getting ready to take a bite, but he
stopped, waiting for me to go on.

“It’s
just . . . we haven’t exactly been friends.” I grimaced at the understatement.
I rushed on, though, not wanting to set off Mark’s temper. “I’m not saying I
don’t want to be. That’s fine, really.” I glanced at Tegan. She looked
unusually pale, and I saw my uncertainty mirrored in her gray eyes. “The same
goes for Tegan,” I added. She nodded, adamantly. I made a note to thank her for
having my back on this later. “Anyway, my point is . . . I was just wondering
what happened to make you so,” I paused, considering, “well, nice.”

For
a moment I was scared I’d pissed him off because Mark sat, unblinking for what
felt like an eternity, without saying anything. I half expected him to jump
across the table and rip my head off, or something equally painful, at any
moment. Instead, he finally blinked, bringing his dark eyes back into focus,
and shrugged his broad shoulders. “That conversation we had last week before
Thanksgiving,” he said.

I
waited, expecting him to say more, but, instead, he took a bite of his
sandwich. The smart thing probably would have been to let it go at that, but I
couldn’t stop myself from asking, “What about it?”

“It
just made me think,” he said. “I realized maybe you’re not so bad after all.”

I’d
had no idea how he might answer, but I certainly wasn’t expecting that. Then he
added with an uncomfortable chuckle, “And I noticed you were starting to look
sickeningly skinny. I figured you needed your lunch money more than I did.” He
leaned back away from the table and said with a sideways grin as he rubbed his
stomach, “After all, look at this gut.”

I
laughed without thinking, and before I could worry that it was the wrong thing
to do, Mark and Tegan joined in.

I
could feel the eyes of the people at the surrounding tables watching us. It had
been that way all week. I couldn’t blame them. It was an odd situation. I
thought the biggest shock was probably that Mark Moses was actually sitting in
the cafeteria with the rest of the students and faculty, acting like a normal
human being, but I was also pretty sure the company he was keeping probably had
something to do with it as well.

Despite
the weirdness, it was nice to hear Mark say I wasn’t so bad. I didn’t know what
I’d done to make him think I was in the first place, but at least I was able to
change his mind without even trying. I wasn’t sure if gaining acceptance from
the resident bully should be cause for celebration or concern, but I decided,
either way, I’d take it.

On
top of trying to figure out the Mark enigma, I’d spent the past three days
avoiding Jackson. My anger from our last encounter was only forgotten during
short intervals of time, which were usually dedicated to trying to figure out
what was going on with Mark. I still wasn’t speaking to Skylar either, unless
it was absolutely necessary. Even then it was usually just to relay a message
from one of our parents.

Even
though Tegan played her role as the understanding best friend perfectly, she
was also the voice of reason I needed. She refused to let me sit around and
stew, and she made it her mission to continually point out, once I’d had some
time to temper my anger, that we didn’t really know Jackson’s objective.

She
remained optimistic, not sold on Skylar’s theory, pointing out that Jackson
never actually aimed conversations toward Skylar. “I’m sure Jesse’s asked
Tierney about me when the topic of siblings has come up,” Tegan said. “And that
guy only has eyes for Tierney.”

I
couldn’t argue that line of reasoning. It wasn’t as if Jackson ever asked me
point blank what he should do to woo my sister. Still, it didn’t change the
fact that he seemed to forget I existed as soon as Skylar swept into the room
and stole center stage. I knew, on some level, it was probably hard for him to
ignore her presence since guys most generally thought more with their nether
regions than their brains. It was just hard for me to allow for the lapse of
judgment—especially with Skylar putting ideas in my head.

The
more Tegan forced me to talk things out rationally the more sense she made. It
also didn’t hurt that, while I was trying to my hardest to avoid contact with
him, Jackson just kept showing up. On Tuesday, he stopped by my locker to talk.

Naturally,
his first question was, “What happened on Sunday?”

Too
embarrassed by my behavior to admit the truth, I gave the same lame excuse I’d
used time and again with Mom about not feeling well. Even though a part of me
was happy to see him—it was just so hard not be stunned by his good looks and
charm—I told him I had to go, claiming I needed to speak to the teacher before
class started, before I scurried off like a frightened rabbit.

When
I finally worked up the nerve to tell her about that exchange on Wednesday
during Journalism, Tegan was none too pleased. With the Mark mystery
tentatively resolved, I knew the focus would return to my recent avoidant
behavior.

Tegan
was usually a very patient girl, but, apparently, the time had come for her to
put her foot down. “Silly, you can’t keep doing this,” she whispered as she
thumbed through a stack of worksheets we’d been handed to read over before
answering the questions. “You have no proof that Jackson is using you, and the
only way you’re going to figure this out is if you actually talk to him.”

I
sighed and sat back in my seat, glancing around the computer lab. Some people
were talking quietly to each other while others were focused solely on the
assignment. Obviously, the assignment wasn’t Tegan’s first priority today. I
considered reminding her of the task at hand, knowing how important her grades were
to her, but I figured she’d accuse me of being avoidant with her as well if I
tried to change the subject. Instead, I sat up a little straighter as I said,
“Tegan, I know.”

“Do
you really?” She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips in a stern look that I
usually only got from my parents. I didn’t like the sight of it on my best
friend’s face, but it was obvious she meant serious business. “You can’t keep
pushing him away like this, Sil. I know you really like him—friend or
otherwise.”

She
paused and raised an eyebrow, as if expecting me to deny my feelings went
beyond friendship. I wasn’t exactly sure why she thought I’d bother to argue
it. We both knew I liked Jackson as more than just a friend. When I didn’t say
anything, she continued speaking. “If you don’t step up and get to the bottom
of all this, he’s going to get pissed and give up, and you’ll lose him
completely.”

I
hadn’t even considered that possibility. I was too busy seeing red to think
about the consequences of my actions. The prospect of pushing Jackson away had
my heart hammering. It was a challenge to find enough breath to ask, “You
really think so?”

Tegan
nodded solemnly as she spoke. “I really don’t think this has anything to do
with Skylar. If it were, I don’t think Jackson would keep coming around trying
to talk to you and checking up on you like he has.”

I
captured my bottom lip between my teeth as I thought it over. Tegan definitely
had a point. Jackson had seemed
genuinely
concerned when he came over on
Sunday, and it wasn’t as if he asked if Skylar was there. She just showed up.
Like Tegan said, most of our conversations had nothing to do with Skylar
anyway.

Besides,
it wasn’t like Jackson really needed help gaining Skylar’s attention. In fact,
whenever he was around, she seemed to be the one seeking him out. It finally
dawned on me that perhaps Skylar was the one lusting after Jackson. I wasn’t
sure why now, of all times, she would be interested, but that theory suddenly
made more sense than Jackson using me to get closer to Skylar. I wasn’t sure
what to do if that were the case, though; besides hope that Skylar would kindly
butt out and stop trying to ruin my newly established friendship with Jackson.

After
my talk with Tegan and my subsequent moment of clarity, I decided it was time
for me to step up and apologize to Jackson for my irrational behavior.

“You
should go talk to him between classes,” Tegan encouraged once I’d told her my
plan.

I
shook my head. “I’ll go at the end of the day. I don’t want to be late for Miss
Barkley’s class.”

Tegan
seemed to deflate slightly, and I suspected she thought I’d abandon the idea if
I didn’t follow through immediately. As fickle as I’d been lately, I couldn’t
blame her for having doubts.

“I
swear, I will go and talk to Jackson after school,” I said to her as the bell
rang, signaling the end of Journalism.

Unfortunately,
that promise was broken.

I
had every intention of following through. After English Composition, I went to
my locker, gathered my things quickly and set out to find Jackson. The halls
were crowded, and I was jostled around a bit on the way, but I finally made it
to the corridor where most of the eleventh grade lockers resided.

As
soon as Jackson’s locker came into view, I was far from enthused. I spotted him
immediately, leaning his back against a locker. As he spoke, he grinned that
grin that I’d seen—and been charmed by—many times before. Something about it
caused a swarm of butterflies to flutter in my stomach.  There was just
something so enthralling about the expression of happiness upon his face and
that little spark of mischief behind his eyes. It was an expression I’d come to
love in the short time I’d known him.

The
swarm of butterflies vanished quickly, though, when I realized he was talking
to Skylar. I cursed under my breath as my heart sunk. Instead of dropping into
my stomach, it felt as if it had crashed down around my feet. For one sick
moment I considered calling Jackson and Skylar over to stomp all over it. After
all, if they were going to break my heart, they might as well do it thoroughly.