Her shock meter didn’t appear to budge in the least.
“So, does this change how you see me or validate exactly what you think you already know about me?”
“No and Yes. No, it doesn’t change what I think about you, and yes, it validates you’re still an ass**le.”
8 I Need A Broom Fast
Claire
As I walked to my locker after Humanities class, I could only think of Jessie Boone’s severe inconsistency. He was unguarded and sincere for a brief moment when he temporarily forgot to be a jerk. I thought the assignment was successful for a minute and I might be seeing him in a new way, then the thought dissipated as quickly as it formed while I watched him shift back to his former self. I found myself wondering which Jessie was the real one because he couldn’t be both.
The moment I realized he was in my class and sitting behind me, I felt breathless. When I tried to sneak a peek at him, he saw me and grinned to let me know I was caught. The realization of him knowing I was checking him out made me want to die right then and there.
He was probably the most handsome boy I had ever seen. I struggled with calling him a boy because the way his black T-shirt stretched taut across his chest and around his muscular arms clearly proved why the term didn’t fit him.
While I stood at my locker swapping out my books for my next class, I was thinking about the way Jessie’s black tattoo peeked out of his sleeve as he reached to pick up his pencil when it rolled off of his desk. I guess I was in deep fantasy mode because I let out an embarrassing squeal when Payton walked up behind me and began speaking. Mr. Grisham was in the hall and gave us that look-the one we all know that says, “Ladies, keep it down.”
I spun on my heels and said, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, Payton.”
“I did not sneak up on you. You just didn’t hear me because you were off in La La Land…with Jessie Boone,” she whispered in ear.
“I was not,” I lied.
“Oh, my dear Claire, you know you are the worst liar ever. I don’t know why you even try because you practically have a lie meter across your forehead and right now it’s telling me you just told me a big, fat one,” she teased.
“Okay. You’ve got me, but I was only thinking about him because we had second period together and we had to be partners on a class exercise,” I explained innocently.
“Your lie meter is registering a half truth because you were thinking about him as a partner that included exercise, but not on a class assignment. It’s more like the horizontal tango.”
I gave her a shove and said, “No, I’m not. You are so crude you should have been a guy, Payton.”
“Hey, somebody’s gotta keep it real,” she laughed.
Forbes walked up and joined us at our lockers. “What are we keeping real? Payton’s need for Penicillin?”
Payton spun to face Forbes and said, “You are seriously stroking my urge button to pimp slap you, so you better back it up.”
The job of refereeing the two of them was exhausting. I pointed to Payton and said, “You. U.S. History. Now.” I shoved Forbes in the direction of his next class and said, “Go, before you exceed the limits of her restraint to push her pimp slap button.”
I walked into Mr. Buckley’s U.S. History class and sat on the back row with Payton because it was our other thing. Since we didn’t disrupt class, teachers never said anything about us sitting on the back. I was, after all, in the running for Valedictorian and Payton was a fair to good student. On test day she was an even better student when she could see my answers.
We were seasoned note passers and read lips fluently. I guess you could call it our gift. Our favorite trick was to write a note using heavy pressure and pass the blank page underneath, so if taken up, the teacher only saw a blank page. One of us would claim the other needed to borrow a sheet of paper. That little trick had saved us on more than one occasion.
While waiting for Buckley’s class to start, Jessie Boone walked in. I silently prayed he would sit on the opposite side of the room, but he took the seat in front of me. He peered over his shoulder and whispered, “You took my seat.”
I made a show of searching the desk for his name and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t see your name on it anywhere.”
He turned around and begin to write his name across the desktop with his pencil and I hoped it rolled off his desk so I could get another peek at his tattoo as I watched him reach for it. I came to my senses and mentally slapped myself across the hand for thinking such a thought because I’m pretty sure that made me a sucky girlfriend.
“There. Now my name is on it.”
“That’s called destruction of school property,” I sarcastically warned.
My statement amused him and he laughed before he turned around in his seat. I looked down to erase his name and saw it didn’t read Jessie Boone. He had written, ‘U should smile more.’
I leaned forward and whispered, “Why do you say that?”
He peered back over his shoulder again. “Because it looks good on you.”
There it was again; that mysterious inconsistency making me think about Jessie Boone more than I should. Mr. Buckley began class, but I couldn’t hear his words over the fluttering in my stomach. I felt Payton’s stare and turned to look at her, seeing her mouth the word, “Foreplay,” and I laughed to myself while I shook my head.
I hoped Jessie wouldn’t turn around and say anything else to me because I didn’t need another reason to think about him. He left class without looking at me, and although it was what I wanted, I found myself foolishly disappointed.
Payton and I didn’t make it out of Buckley’s class before she had me cornered. “Now, tell me he’s not hot for you.”
“He’s not hot for me, Payton. He’s just having a little fun with the Princess. That’s all,” I said as I dodged around her to go to my locker.
I opened my locker and heard Payton whisper, “News flash, Claire…We just had this conversation an hour ago about what a terrible liar you are and it’s true; I can see it all over your face. He may call you Princess, but he doesn’t treat you like one and you like it.”
Her theory was unbelievable. “Why would I enjoy the way he treats me? He’s an ass to me, so that doesn’t even make sense.”
Payton looked at me like I was a dumbass. “Omigod, Claire, you can be so dense for someone so smart. I guess I’m going to be forced to spell it out for you. He can’t stand you because he thinks you’re a spoiled rotten little princess, but he can’t help but be hot for you. This is the first time you’ve ever met a guy that didn’t want to put you on a pedestal and you’re fascinated by it.”