Page 35 of The Second Kiss
“Sorry,” Jasmine wrinkles up her nose. ‘You want to see my bruise?” She lifts up the edge of her skirt and shows me a big, target shaped bruise on her hip.
“Yikes,” I say.
“At least my cheer skirt will cover it, well mostly. You have a couple on your neck and your arm too.”
“Great.” I was so worried about the cast that I didn’t realize how bad my bruises looked. Now I wish I were wearing a turtleneck, or at least a long-sleeved shirt.
"They're not that bad." I know she's lying by the way she flips her hair and changes the subject. "So, what's the deal with you and Brad?"
I shake my head. "No deal."
Jasmine raises her eyebrows. "Are you sure? The way you were cuddled up by the fire–"
"Absolutely no deal." I shut my locker hard–too hard, and with the wrong hand. I bite back a curse of pain. "A lapse in judgment brought on by pain, pain meds, and a lack of seating."
"I didn't think so. It's just..." Jasmine looks around like she doesn't want anyone to overhear, "I saw Lexie by the counseling office this morning. She looked like she'd been crying. I thought maybe you and Brad got back together and he'd dumped her."
I suck in a breath. "Not my problem. I'm more than through with both of them." Even though I'm trying to come off as nonchalant, my hand shakes and my binder slips out of my grasp. It crashes to the floor and scatters my papers all over the hall.
I kneel down to collect everything with my good hand. Jasmine leans over to help me. "I don't know what Brad's game is, but he's up to something." She takes my binder and puts the papers back inside for me. "He's not the kind of guy that likes to lose, at anything." She puts her hand under my elbow to help me stand. "Just be careful, okay?"
I try to laugh off her concern. "I doubt whatever happened between Brad and Lexie has anything to do with me. He probably just moved on to the next girl in line."
"You're probably right.” Jasmine checks herself in the mirror she keeps in her locker. “See you in gym?”
I wave my cast. "Not today. I have a note."
"Lucky you." She closes her locker and heads in the opposite direction.
It’s my imagination. People aren’t actually turning their heads and whispering about me while I walk to class. I’m being paranoid, but I'm not imagining Brad, leaning against the wall outside my class like he’s waiting for me. He catches my eye and winks. I pretend not to see him. Lexie isn’t around. Maybe they are through. That might explain the way he was acting at my house.
My day only gets worse. In English we have a test with a bunch of essay questions. I write as fast as I can with my casted hand, but when the bell rings I’m still not finished. My teacher lets me stay to finish it, since I can't go to PE anyway. I forgot that Brad had the same class the period after me until he plunks down into the seat next to mine.
"Hey," he starts. I don't look up. He slides his chair closer. "How's your wrist?" I lean over my test, hoping he’ll get the hint and leave me alone.
"Jess, are you okay?" His voice is soft, almost concerned.
I write faster, and then erase everything when I realize my answer doesn't make any sense.
He puts his hand on my shoulder and I jump. I shrug him off and give him a death glare. "What?"
"We need to talk."
I open my mouth to remind him that we've already had this non-conversation and I don't want to talk to him, but my teacher steps between us. "You'll have to talk later. Jess is finishing the same test you need to get started on."
Brad scoots his chair back to his desk. "Lunch?" he whispers when she turns her back.
I make the mistake of looking up from my test. Brad looks like a puppy begging for the last bite of my sandwich. What if the whole thing was a big misunderstanding? What if all of this is Lexie's fault? What if she set us both up? I touch my locket, safely concealed in my pocket. No. Brad is still Brad.. I shake my head fiercely.
I finish my test without looking up again, even though I feel Brad's eyes on me. My arm is throbbing as I walk out of class. I have a headache now too.
“Jessica Roberts?” The vice principal calls as I wander the hall, trying to decide if I should go home. I stammer an excuse, expecting him to give me a hard time for being in the hall without a pass. Instead he says, "Your counselor has been trying to find you. She wants to see you in her office."
I’ve only been in my counselor's office a couple of times and that was to change classes. I barely know her. She welcomes me with a sympathetic smile. “Jessica, it’s good to see you.” She says it like we’re old friends. “Please have a seat.”
She doesn’t give me any clue about why I’m here. All I can think is that someone in my family got into an accident and she's trying to figure out how to break the news gently.
“How have you been?” She doesn’t act like it’s urgent, but the sympathetic look hasn’t faded. “I heard you had some bad luck with your arm.”
