If only my friends knew how good they have it with regular parents who don't surveil and interrogate liars for a living.
“I need to go find my phone,” she says, even though she's still sitting next to me on the step. “Let me ask youâwhat did you think of that guy at the bodega? Hot, right?”
“So the only thing you want to discuss about what happened yesterday is the hot guy?”
“I told you we were never in any real danger. That meth-head just wanted a few dollars for his next fix.”
“Junkies are the most dangerous kind of thief. Besides, how would you know about that dude needing a fix, Cherry Creek girl?”
“You know by now I wasn't always Cherry Creek, so stop trying to game me.”
Is she finally going to tell me what her deal is? I know she's rich, and that she got all her money from the lottery even though her parents are trying to pretend they got it from being in the oil business. I know she wants Langdon Prep to think she's poor until she can figure out a way to tell them she scammed her way into the school. I know she hasn't been in Colorado as long as she claims because her accent has plenty of South in it no matter how she tries to hide it. I found out all of this on my own. But what I haven't figured out is what she's hiding behind all those lies.
“Sure, if
you
stop gaming me. I know you weren't raised here. Where are you really from? Texas, maybe?” I always figured Texas since she came up with that family oil story. We have a few drills around Colorado, but nothing like Texas.
“See, that's what I mean about you always trying to get in somebody's business.”
We're quiet for a second, watching two little boys who have come up to admire her car.
“What about that guy, though?” she asks.
“He was cute.” I don't add that he was the one who almost got us killed, trying to act all heroic just when the perp was about to leave the store.
“How about the way he protected me when the meth-head pointed his gun my way?”
“At us. He pointed it at
us,
but your hero only tried to save you.”
“I know. Isn't that romantic? Too bad I never got his name.”
Only Bethanie could recall a near-death experience and regret not getting some guy's number.
“Don't you feel bad about not sticking around to talk to the police?”
“Please. The cops never did anything for me.”
“Not so much to help them, but to help the owner, and all the other owners that dude might rob next.”
“Grow up, Chanti. We're all in this for ourselves. The bodega owner knows that. I know it. You're the only one who seems not to understand how it works. Living around here, I'd think you'd know. Those kids probably do,” she says, pointing to the boys still checking out her car.
She's right about that. If they were old enough to see over the steering wheel and reach the gas pedal, I'd be concerned they were doing more than admiring the car. Even then, you never know if they might be casing it for someone old enough to drive. Bethanie must realize the same thing.
“I gotta bounce,” she says as she gets up from the step. “See you in school Monday.”
“Maybe. If I'm over my illness.”
“I thought you weren't really sick.”
“I wasn't, until now.”
It was true. As I watch Bethanie drive away, I actually do feel sickâabout running from the scene of a crime, about lying to Lana, but mostly about the uneasy feeling I get whenever Bethanie and I spend more than a few minutes together.
Chapter 3
M
onday morning, Lana deems me well enough to go to school, which I expected because I was never really sick. I didn't miss Langdon, but I definitely missed Marco Ruiz. He's the one who gave me the kiss that I'm sure I could subsist on forever ... well, along with water and Reese's cups. But I wouldn't know because we haven't kissed again since that first time. It happened in the days right after the burglary ringleader almost killed me. He almost killed Marco, too, so his mother has forbidden him to date me, even before we've gone out on a single real date. Something about how I'm a menace to her son's well-being and leading him down a dangerous path. Blah, blah. She even called my mom and got her in on the plan. Lana says I'm a catch for any guy, but I have to respect his parents' wishes. It doesn't matter that I saved Marco from jail and worse. I suppose Mommie Dearest could say he wouldn't have been in trouble if he didn't know me, and she'd have a point.
The thing I won't admit to anyone is that I'm kind of glad Mrs. Ruiz doesn't like me and wants to keep me away from Marco. Before we kissed, I must have imagined it happening a thousand times, and when we finally did, it was pretty much perfect. So I'm not averse to it happening again. The problem is what comes after. If Marco and I go where Mrs. Ruiz doesn't want us to go, he'd be my first real boyfriend. Outside of a couple of bad dates, I'm a complete amateur when it comes to boys. Being younger than all the kids in my class does nothing for my confidence, either. Marco's seventeen and I'm not even sixteen yet. I bet his old girlfriend isn't the complete noob I am. What if he compares me to her? Unless he needs her to solve a case for him, I'm sure I'd lose that contest.
Fortunately, Marco's the kind of guy who respects his parents
and
their wishes. I knowâI picked the one guy on the planet who actually stays away from what his parents forbid instead of running to it like smelly freshmen boys run to a bottle of Axe body spray after PE. But he's still a guy, and even if he won't officially date me, he tries everything else he can in the limited time and space we have together. He's thinking I'll eventually win his mother over and we can pick up where we left off a few weeks ago with that kiss in the library. I'm hoping by the time his mother changes her mind, I'll have a clue what
pick up where we left off
actually means.
For now, I have an excuse not to get too close. Marco and I used to work together at a moving company, but we both quit that job since we didn't get along so well with the owner's kids. Mostly we just text and talk on the phone, which he figures is not the same as dating me, and his parents specifically said no
dating.
They didn't say anything about no communicating. I give good talk and text because they're done at a distance and perfectly safe. But what to do when he wants more? WorseâI imagine all this almost-dating is creating anticipation on his part that I absolutely won't be able to manage when and if Mrs. Ruiz decides she loves me.
I even catch a break at school. Marco and I have a couple of classes together and share one-minute conversations in the hall between bells, but nothing more than that because the hallways have eyesânamely those of Headmistress Smythe. She's had it in for me since I started Langdon, so she has no problem honoring Mrs. Ruiz's request to keep an eye on Marco and me to make sure we don't get together. I figure it's only a matter of time before I somehow win Mrs. Ruiz's heart, get over my first-boyfriend jitters, improve my woefully inadequate skills of seduction, and take Marco down that path of sin his mother is so worried about. If only she knew I'd need a GPS, a map, and a tour guide just to
find
the path, much less navigate it.
“How was your weekend?” I ask when I find him at his locker.
“All right. Better when I was thinking of you.”
Oh man, does he know what to say. I wish I did.
“Any change on the home front?” I ask, keeping up the charade that I'm as eager as he is to move beyond hallway dates.
“Not yet. But she'll come around. Just give it some time, okay?”
He puts his hands around my waist and looks at me that way he does and I forget about everyone around us and even how nervous the whole boyfriend thing makes me ... until I hear my nameâmy full nameâbeing yelled at me from across the hall, in a completely fake British accent.
“Chantal Evans! In my office, now.”
Where did
she
come from? I swear, I need to put a bell on her.
“Headmistress Smythe, waitâI'm as much to blame,” Marco says in my defense.
“Oh, I doubt that. Get to class, Mr. Ruiz. Miss Evans, come with me.”
I follow her, wondering what story I might give to keep her from calling Lana. Oh yeah. She won't be calling Lana because Smythe thinks my mother is in jail doing time. For what, I don't know. All I've been able to figure out is that Lana was able to get me accepted into Langdon by calling in a favor, and the favor has something to do with Smythe. Which means Smythe had something to do with a crime that occurred while Lana was undercover as whatever criminal Smythe thinks she is. Of course Lana won't give me the dirt, not that I haven't tried to get it out of her. Having that kind of information could make my life at Langdon so much easier.
“Chantal, can't you stay out of trouble for more than a week?”
“Headmistress Smythe, with all due respect, I really haven't been in trouble for at least two weeks. Besides, I solved those school thefts and got the real thieves arrested, didn't I?”
“Well, yes.”
I can tell that admission was as painful as if I'd asked her to admit that she really isn't British, her hair really isn't auburn, and that she really did something illegal enough to make her owe Lana a favor.
I try to reason with her. “This thing going on between Marco and his parentsâit's just a classic misunderstanding, like the Capulets and the Montagues in
Romeo and Juliet,
except one-sided.”
“And we know how that turns out, don't we?” she says.
I could stand there and argue with old Smythe because I like a good debate, but I hate confrontation. There's a fine line between the two and I don't plan on crossing it. At least now I get to see Marco a little bit. If I push too hard, his mom might send him back to North High and far away from me.
“You're right, Mrs. Smythe. Marco and I will do what his parents want.”
“I'm glad you're being sensible.”
That's me, sensible. That's all I ever am, but it still doesn't seem to keep me out of trouble.
Â
After school, Bethanie is hanging out with me near the gym entrance where I hope to catch Marco on his way to football practice. I got a message from him last period that maybe we could hang out for a few minutes between last bell and the start of practice. When I tried to text back, the teacher caught me and took my phone until the end of class. So I couldn't answer until a few minutes ago, but I haven't heard back from him. I feel a little like a groupie, but I don't care. As pathetic as my love situation is, Bethanie's is worse, which is why she's willing to wait with me until he shows, if he shows. I think she's living vicariously through the barely there relationship Marco and I have. Or through
Romeo and Juliet,
which we're currently reading in English Lit. Now
that
story is tragic, and makes pathetic look not so bad.
“I thought you already finished that,” I say when Bethanie pulls Shakespeare out of her backpack and starts reading.
“It's so good, I'm reading it again. Can you imagine having a love like they had?”
“Their whole forbidden love thing is definitely familiar. I just hope my story turns out better than theirs did.”
“I'm telling you,” she is saying, “the minute you give it up, he'll forget what his parents look like, much less obey their rule about not dating you. That's how guys are once you put it on them. They can't think straight, and
you
make the rules, not Mommy.”
“You've been misinformed. Once you give it up, they forget your number and move on to the next target,” I say, thinking of some girls I know on the Ave.
“So ignore me. I'm not the one crying into her pillow every night.”
“I have not cried even
once
into my pillow. When Marco and I do it,
if
we ever do it, I want it to be because we both want to, not because I'm trying to manipulate him.”
“So all the other women before us who have been using it as collateral, for likeâcenturiesâhad it wrong? I don't think so.”
“You might be right, but I won't play it like that.”
“Yeah, well, you won't be playing at all, at least not with Marco, if all y'all do is meet for thirty seconds at your locker every day. A boy that hot will find other means.”
Bethanie doesn't know how right she is. If Marco and I ever get together for real, I could be joining the ranks of those girls on the Ave. This year my old high school merged with North High, where Marco used to go and where I'd be going, along with Michelle and Tasha, if I hadn't gotten the scholarship to Langdon. According to Tashaâwhose gossip is usually dead-on, as much as I hate to admit itâMarco was something of a player at North.
But he wasn't like your average player running games and telling a girl's business all over school. The way Tasha heard it, he was still the same sweet guy I know, mindful of his parents, respectful to teachers, and always a gentleman with girls. He was so sweet, in fact, girls everywhere were willing to drop the panties for him. And like I said, no matter how sweet Marco is, he's still a guy. So you can see why I'm a little intimidated. Between his rep and my rookie status, the score stands at Chantiâ
one,
Marco's ex-girlfriendâ
infinity
.
Just then, the
boy that hot
steps out of the gym door, fully dressed in his football gear.
“Hey, I just saw your text,” Marco says.
“Ms. Hemphill caught me and took my phone. I couldn't send an answer until the end of school.”
“Aw, man, I didn't get to spend any time with you,” he says, stepping closer to me until he notices Bethanie staring at us.
“Bethanie, don't you have to be somewhere?” I say.
“Nope.”
I could knock her out. The deal was she'd hang with me until Marco showed. The least she could do is keep reading Shakespeare instead of gawking at us. Just then, a bunch of players comes through the gym doors behind Marco.
“Maybe tomorrow,” Marco says, trailing his fingers down my arm, grabbing my hand and holding it for just a second before he leaves to join his team. I watch him jog toward the practice field until he's hidden behind the gym. I want him; I want him not. No, I really do want him, I just don't know what to do with him.
As we head for the front of Langdon and the long drivewayâBethanie to her secret parking spot, me to the bus stopâshe says, “You do know how sad this is, right?”
I'm about to ask how she knows so much about men since in the time I've known her, she's never mentioned a boyfriend past or present and she's a whole year older than I am, when we see a guy leaning against the railing of the stairs that lead from the drop-off circle at the top of the driveway to the main entrance. We can't help but notice him. Not only is he gorgeous and not wearing the Langdon uniform, but he has this style about him that lets you know right off he isn't a Langdon boy, like he's older. He's probably in college, maybe even a junior or senior, and looks totally out of place at Langdon even though he's wearing all the preppie gear. It's the guy from the bodega robbery, the one who almost got us killed. I had an uneasy feeling about him then that I couldn't place. It just got a lot stronger.
When he spots us, he smiles and starts moving in our direction.
“Chanti, that's the guy,” Bethanie whispers. If she weren't trying to play it cool, she'd be squealing.
“You've been talking to this guy?”
“No, but I've been dreaming about talking to him, all the things I'd say if I ever got the chance.”
“Let's pretend we didn't see him and go inside Main Hall.”
“You must be kidding,” she says, heading straight toward him.
I look around and see that there are plenty of people still hanging out waiting for rides home, plus a group of teachers talking just a few feet away. I know I get a little paranoid, but I can't help it. I mean, how did this guy even know where to find Bethanie?
“Hiâit's Bethanie, isn't it?” he says when he reaches us.
“She goes by Beth,” I say, just to establish from the start that I'm standing right here. Back at the bodega, I don't think dude even knew I was there.
She rolls her eyes at me and says, “I go by
Bethanie
. With an
ie
. You're the guy from the store, right?”