Deep Green: Color Me Jealous with Bonus Content (12 page)

I ran across the street through the pouring rain. It felt like sharp needles as it hit my face, and I could tell there was ice mixed in. Maybe my mom had been right after all. But I didn’t have time to think about that as I shook my hair off. Then, holding my head high, I walked into the coffee shop, smiling and confident and ready for anything. But as I glanced around, I didn’t see Timothy anywhere.

I did notice a guy who looked a lot like Brett Hawkins, at least from the back. He was standing at the counter ordering something. I stepped closer to see that it was indeed Brett. And that’s when I figured that Timothy must be on his way. Or perhaps he was in the restroom or hiding somewhere and waiting to pop out at me.

“Hey, Brett,” I said with a friendly smile.

“Jordan!” He turned around with a pleased smile. “You made it!”

“Yeah.”

“Man, I thought with the cruddy weather and everything—”

“No problem.” I waved my hand and glanced back to where the restrooms were located, hoping to see Tim emerging any minute.

“Can I get you something?”

“Sure, thanks. I’ll have a double espresso.”

He grinned. “Cool.”

I nodded. “Might as well get wired, right?”

He nodded. “Why not?”

“I guess I’ll go sit and wait,” I told him, unsure as to whether I should ask about Timothy yet or not. Suddenly, I wondered if perhaps Timothy had chickened out and sent Brett over to tell me I’d been dumped—again. But then Brett seemed to be in a pretty good mood. He didn’t exactly look like he was playing the bearer of bad news.

Finally, he came back over and sat down with our two coffees. “So, how’s it going?”

“Okay, considering.”

“Yeah, it’s been kind of a hard year for you.”

“You could say that again.”

He grinned. “Well, maybe it’s about time it all turned around.”

I nodded. “Fine by me.”

I was just about to ask him about Timothy, but he spoke first. “That was a really cool email you sent last night.”

Had Tim actually let Brett read my email? How humiliating! Even so, I sort of nodded, unsure of the correct response under these circumstances.

“You haven’t changed your mind or anything?” He looked slightly troubled.

“Changed my mind?”

“Yeah. About me and you.”

“Me and you?”

He smiled. “Well, that’s what you said in your email.”

“My email?”

Now he shook his head. “Are you okay, Jordan? You seem a little loopy.”

I took a big sip of the espresso to hide my confusion, scalding my tongue as I did but keeping my eyes on Brett the whole time. What on earth was this guy up to? What kind of game was he playing?

“I’m kind of lost,” I confessed.

“Yeah, that’s sort of how I felt at first. But then after I considered it, I wondered why I’d never thought about it before. I mean, I like Ashley okay, but she’s not anything like you, Jordan. Sometimes I actually think she’s a little depressed or something. But you always seem so cheerful and up. Think about all the crud Timothy and Shawna have put you through. You just keep bouncing right back with that sweet little smile on your face.” He grinned now. “I really like that.”

Okay, Abbie and I used to watch these ancient reruns of this totally lame old show called
The Twilight Zone
, and I seriously felt like that was exactly where I had landed tonight. Like, who am I? And how did I get here? Still, I hate looking totally stupid and ignorant, so I continued to just play along.

“Now, I can’t remember exactly what I wrote in that email, Brett. You know how you just whip something out and send it?”

“Yeah. I’ve sent stuff that I wished I hadn’t. But mostly you just said how you’d been watching me and thinking how we belonged together. But what really got my attention was when you told me that Ashley is tired of me and about to dump me for Caleb Andrews.”

I’m thinking this is total bunk because I know without a doubt that Ashley is head over heels for this guy. But feeling thoroughly confused, I don’t say this.

“And which email address did I send it from?”

“Huh?”

“You know, I have a couple that I use.”

“I don’t remember it exactly, but it did have the word ‘blondie’ in it.”

“Oh, yeah.” I nodded, although I had no such email address. Someone, and I could guess who, was playing a really bad joke on me. And Brett too. But how was I supposed to get out of this stupid mess gracefully? I didn’t want to hurt this guy’s feelings. And I suppose I was just slightly flattered that he was actually interested in me. I mean, who would’ve thought someone like Brett Hawkins would like
me?
But at the same time, I was totally infuriated that it wasn’t Timothy sitting here with me right now. And why had he sent me that email inviting me to meet him tonight? Of
course
, I suddenly realized, he
hadn’t
sent it at all.
Shawna had
.

“Brett, I need to tell you something.”

He nodded. “Shoot.”

“I think I may have made a mistake in coming here tonight.”

He frowned.

“Yeah, it was one of those things that seemed right at the time. You know, like sending an email and then regretting it? And I think you’re a totally cool guy, and I would be so lucky to have someone like you. But this is the wrong way to get you.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I kind of know what you mean.”

“And besides that, Ashley really
does
like you.”

“How do you know?”

“She talks about you all the time, Brett. You’re the only thing about high school that she doesn’t seemed bored with.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“And you’re pretty good friends with her?”

“Sort of.”

Now he really frowned. “Well, if you’re such good friends with her, why did you come here tonight?”

I sighed. Good question. Why had I come here tonight? If I told him the truth, he’d feel stupid and used. If I lied, I’d look like the backstabbing tramp that Shawna accused me of being. As it turned out, I didn’t get the chance to do either.

“See!”
cried Shawna as she and Ashley walked into the Starbucks and quickly came straight to our table.

The look on Ashley’s face was like nothing I’d ever seen before—a mixture of deep hurt and pure white rage. I mean, if I thought I’d had jealousy problems with Shawna, I knew I’d hit the mother lode with Ashley. I stood up and tried to explain. “It’s not what you think—”

“Save it for someone who gives a—”

“It’s really not,” said Brett, trying to grab Ashley’s hand. “She was just telling me—”

Then
smack!
Ashley slapped Brett right across the face. I couldn’t believe it. And fearing I would be next, I took a step backward and headed toward the door. I considered saying something to Ashley to straighten things out. I wanted to shout, “This is all just a setup!” but I had a feeling my words would be lost on this crowd. Now Brett was yelling at Ashley and Shawna was throwing the blame at me. All I could think was,
I better get out of here, and fast
. Hopefully, Brett and I would have a chance to sort things out later after tempers had cooled.

I knew that the temperature had dropped drastically when I went outside and immediately slipped on the ice that was quickly building up on the street. I glanced back to the scene in Starbucks and could tell they were still fighting. I think I expected them to come after me at any moment. I hurried to unlock my ice-encrusted car and then, without bothering to scrape off my windshield, turned the key in the ignition. It was clear that the wipers were useless and I could barely see, but somehow I drove down the street and managed to find the highway out of town.

By then my little defroster had managed to burn two small holes through the ice on my windshield. Hunching forward like an old woman, I slowly made my way onto the highway. But my hands were still shaking uncontrollably. I tried not to think about what had just happened. Instead, I told myself to focus on the highway ahead of me. I knew the roads were slick and suspected that I should move slowly in my frosted blue Bug. To my relief, the other cars were keeping their speed down too. And because I had absolutely no experience driving on ice—and not a whole lot of experience driving, period—I figured I’d better follow their example.

My head was being scorched by my defroster, which I had to keep running on high in order to keep the ice off my windshield, and my stomach was tied in so many knots that I honestly felt like I might need to pull over and throw up.

How have you gotten yourself into this stupid mess?
I asked myself as I crawled along the highway like a frozen turtle.
How could you be such a total fool?

Of course, I had no answers for myself—only more and more questions. And it wasn’t long before my questions turned into hateful accusations.

“You are such a totally worthless loser,” I told myself aloud. “You are the worst friend on the planet. First you totally ditch your best friend just so you can hang with a bunch of kids who probably hate your guts. But still, you don’t give up, do you? You’re playing this game, thinking you can win, and all you do is make more messes out of everything. And then you go and make those messes bigger and bigger.”

I figured I was pretty much like the Cat in the Hat. No matter what he did to clean it up, the pink-spot mess he had made only got worse and worse—well, until he pulled out Little Cat Z. But I didn’t happen to have a Little Cat Z under my hat. All I had was stupid old mess-making me.

“This is just what you deserve,” I yelled at myself. “After all, you only think about yourself! You are pathetic and shallow and selfish and totally stupid. And do you know why you’re stuck with your own company tonight, Jordan? It’s because no one else can stand to be around you.”

But even though it was a form of venting, and most likely quite true, these harsh accusations didn’t make me feel one bit better. I considered calling Kara just then and pouring out my guts to her, although I felt pretty certain that talking on my cell phone while driving on a road that was slicker than a giant ice rink would be pushing things a bit. Plus, I didn’t see any place to pull over at the moment.

But if I could’ve called Kara just then, I think I would’ve asked her about this whole God thing. I would’ve said, “Okay, Kara,
where
is God when I need him? Because I’m telling you, I could use some serious help right now. I’ve made a total mess of everything, and like those kids who needed Little Cat Z, I could really use some real live assistance right now. So tell me, Kara, is God like Little Cat Z? Can he clean this mess up? And if he can,
where
can you find him when you need him?”

“Help me, God!” I finally screamed at the top of my lungs. “Do something about my pathetically messed-up life!” Then, in pure frustration, I socked the steering wheel. Big mistake.

When I came to, I was still inside my car, but my car didn’t look anything like it used to look. It’s like the outside had come into the inside, and I was pinned somewhere in between. I was shivering with cold and feeling extreme pain everywhere, but mostly in my right foot. I could tell by headlights moving off to my left that I had gone off the highway and hit something, maybe a tree, although it was hard to tell since my own headlights were knocked out. But I was far enough from the road that I didn’t know if anyone would ever notice me, and I couldn’t see my purse, which of course held my cell phone.

“Oh, God,” I cried out. “I mean it this time. Please, please, help me. I’m sorry I’ve made such a mess.” Then I think I must’ve passed out again.

The next time I came to, I was in another kind of vehicle, or maybe it was a bubble, because it was filled with this bluish sort of light. And it was warm and I was wrapped in something and there was this young woman looking down at me. “How you doing, sweetie?” she asked in a voice so kind that I thought maybe she was actually an angel.

“I’ve been better,” I said, but it sounded like someone else, or maybe a frog. Then I closed my eyes and prepared to meet my maker or, more likely, someone else who ruled in another sort of place. Despite the comforting warmth of the blanket, that thought chilled me to the soul.

seventeen

M
Y PARENTS WAITED UNTIL I WAS FEELING A LITTLE BETTER BEFORE THEY
popped the big question.

“Jordan, we need to know something,” my dad said in a tightly controlled voice. “What on earth were you doing sixty miles from home last night?” I had to admire his restraint since I suspect that he really wanted to yell.

“Especially after I told you there was going to be an ice storm,” pleaded my mom. “You said you were going to Ashley’s. What were you doing?”

“And what were you thinking?” demanded my dad.

I closed my eyes and leaned back onto the hospital bed. They’d finally moved me from the emergency room when they discovered there was nothing life-threateningly wrong with me and that I’d miraculously suffered only a broken ankle and a blow to the head—well, that and lots of cuts and bruises. Some miracle if you ask me.

“Are you okay, honey?” My mom’s voice was softer now, like the empathy factor had just kicked in again.

I opened my eyes and looked at them. I could tell they were still freaked about this whole thing. And I’m sure it must be awful to get a phone call like that from the state police. “Like I said, I am really, really sorry about this. I feel bad to have worried you guys.”

“We’re just relieved you’re okay,” said Mom.

“And extremely curious as to what you were up to.”

“I know. And I’ll tell you, but it’s a long story.” I sighed. “And I’m not sure I can even get it straight right now.” I closed my eyes again. “I’m just so tired.”

“You might as well get some rest,” said my mom. “They want to keep you here for observation until morning anyway.”

“You guys go home,” I told them with eyes still shut, probably trying to play the brave victim for their benefit. “I’ll be fine.”

“No.” I could tell that my mom felt it would be wrong to leave me here.