Chapter Ten

Selena

Got That Sinking Feeling

I didn’t want to go to school today.

As the warmth of sleep left my body, memories of yesterday came as sour as my morning breath. Mr. Rock-Star-National-Geographic insulting my intelligence ate at me. I hadn’t expected to see him at the bookstore. Arguing with him had been irritating. The humiliation of losing said argument unsettled my stomach. It was good I left when I did. Before that afternoon, I’d never come so close to pummeling someone until he bled senseless on the floor.

Then when I got home, I spent most of the night on the Internet finding answers for the electricity zinging through our bodies every time we touched. The closest I got was this study that showed some people more predisposed to generating static. Why would Dillan hate me for that? Okay, maybe he didn’t know about the study. I debated whether to risk telling him about it or just avoid him altogether.

Speaking of avoiding someone, my vision of running into Bowen at school today resurfaced. I sat up, wondering if I could skip.

I shook my head. Bad idea.

Grams would never allow it.

One time, I pretended to have a fever to get out of a math quiz. Grams came into my room with a foul-smelling soup and ordered me to finish the whole bowl. I remember it smelled like skunk spray. It inspired a miraculous recovery. Unfortunately, my room stank for a week after that.

Shuddering at the memory, I slapped my cheeks lightly to get the rest of my sleep-haze out of my system before scrambling to the bathroom.

At breakfast and in the car afterward, I focused on the radio. The Morning Show was a part of my daily routine for as long as I could remember. Today, Jeanette Morris interviewed Committee Chair, Betty Hillsgrove, about the Fall Festival preparations and what Newcastle could expect this year.

Bowen and I always went to the festival together, along with Penny and Kyle. He’d been MIA since the afternoon he’d left me at Miller’s. I said a silent prayer of thanks for small miracles. But, according to my vision, my luck had run out.

No matter how hard I tried to think of other things, all roads led back to him. Through the years, I’d come to realize that my visions eventually came true. I could stay away from my locker, but eventually, I would forget and end up there anyway, and the vision would play out. Even Grams’s excited chatter about the widow, Mrs. Nixon—spotted at the movie theater in the middle of the afternoon with a certain younger gentleman—couldn’t keep my mind from what was about to happen. Thankfully, being late for her shift meant my furrowed brow went unnoticed. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and left me at the school’s parking lot with only a “Have a nice day.”

With apprehension, I stared at Newcastle High’s double doors for a good five minutes. I had to face Bowen and make him understand we were over, and I’d moved on. Why Dillan’s face chose that moment to pop into my head, I had no freakin’ idea.

…

Outside American History, I hesitated. Dillan was in my first two classes. What a way to start the day. My heart pumped like I’d just finished a marathon, and my palms practically dripped sweat.

“What’re you doing out here?”

“Kyle!” I whirled around, eyes wild. “Jeez, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Ease up on the caffeine in the mornings.”

“You know I hate coffee.”

“Then something tells me you don’t want to go into class,” he teased. “Does it have to do with a certain teacher’s nephew who’s been giving you hell since he set foot into Newcastle?”

His amusement irritated me. “Please, let’s not get into that.”

“Come on, he’s harmless.”

I gave him my best withering glare. “Weren’t you on the receiving end of a million texts yesterday?”

“My phone’s practically bursting. I get it. He’s a jerk for insulting you at the bookstore like that. Don’t let him get to you.”

“Too late for that.”

“Oh, this is good! You are letting him—” he finished with a grunt when I stuffed my fist into his side.

“I’d say you’re right.” His voice roasted my cheeks beet-red.

Ladies and gentlemen, the thorn on my side, the pebble in my shoe, the bane of my existence had arrived.

“Shut it before I cut you.” I poked Kyle on the shoulder, and then turned to glare at Dillan, who stood by the door with a book in one hand and his schoolbag in the other. I narrowed my eyes at him and said, “Don’t ruin my morning by being a jerk, please.”

“Is that the way you greet people around here?”

“Why you—” I hissed, the rest of my words garbled by the first period bell. If Kyle’s arm around my waist hadn’t kept me in place, I would have jumped him.

“Oh, stop staring like you plan to go in for the kill,” he said to Dillan. “It makes me think you actually like each other.”

Dillan and I glared at him and denied his accusation simultaneously.

Unfazed, he gave us his most charming grin. “Class is about to start. Mr. Sloan just rounded the corner.”

With a non-committal shrug, Dillan walked into the room. I took two more breaths and glanced at Mr. Sloan’s smiling face as he walked toward us before I let Kyle nudge me past the door.

Minutes passed, and even in the radiant presence of Mr. Sloan, I couldn’t concentrate. Every time I tried to focus, my eyes flicked toward Dillan, who sat a few desks in front of me. Desperate, I resorted to staring at Mr. Sloan, but my anger, confusion, and anxiety clung like a cotton shirt on a muggy day.

My distraction eventually turned into embarrassment when I totally missed the announcement that class was splitting into groups. Mr. Sloan had to remind me twice to pick a number out of the glass bowl he held. I couldn’t look at him while I fished out a folded piece of paper.

I hadn’t even finished unfolding it when Kyle pulled me to his group. He grabbed a brown-haired boy’s paper and exchanged it with mine. “You don’t mind, do you, Peter?”

Peter blinked twice.

I smiled in apology.

Since grade school, Kyle and I had been groupmates on anything and everything. Even when we got into a fight, he still insisted I be in his group. When teachers suggested we split up, he always charmed his way into getting them to look the other way. This time around, the group consisted of a blond named Constance and the boy I wanted to throw into a well.

Of all the rotten…I bit the tip of my tongue. Why couldn’t I get a vision of this?

“Yes, you’re in a group with him. Deal.” Kyle interrupted my train of thought.

We brought our desks together so we could brainstorm. Dillan’s lack of discomfort made my situation worse. He sat there talking with Constance about a part of the instructions he’d missed as if the world only consisted of white rabbits and pink flowers and happy thoughts. It grated on my nerves like squeaky sneakers.

“Selena! Pay attention.” My best friend elbowed my arm.

Unfortunately, his dumb move caught Dillan’s attention. He watched me with a mocktastic grin. My chest tightened then expanded in panicked breaths. I wanted to flick my pen his way and hope it poked an eye out. But with my luck, the pen would probably just bounce off his inflated ego.

“Is there a problem here?” Mr. Sloan stood right behind his nephew with a charismatic smile on his old-Hollywood-leading-man face. The kind Grams swooned over on movie nights when she got to pick the flick. Always something black and white.

“I have two third graders in my group, Mr. Sloan. Don’t worry…I’m a pretty good babysitter.” Kyle returned our teacher’s smile.

Mr. Sloan gave Dillan an all-knowing glance. Suppressing a chuckle, he moved away to check on the progress of another group. Dillan muttered something about uncles under his breath. It didn’t sound respectful at all.

“Ouch!” I rubbed the arm Kyle had pinched. “What was that for?”

“You,” he pointed at Dillan, “stop annoying her.”

“What’d I do?” His face said shocked while his eyes mocked.

“Don’t you dare say anything, Selena.” Kyle gave me his famous librarian stare. I shut my mouth and squirmed in silence. Then he turned back to Dillan. “I’m not sure what you have against her, but unlike the rest of the world, who thinks you’re charming, I see through your attitude, Mr. I-think-I-know-everything. And before you interrupt me, I’d just like to remind you that you’re not the only one being graded here. I don’t know about you, but I have an A with my name on it for this project. I don’t care if Mr. Sloan is your uncle. Grow a pair, and suck it up! You’re stuck with her just as much as she’s stuck with you.”

Constance clapped. “Nice! Saying all that in one breath. My mom can’t do better.” Her admiration sparkled from her eyes to her pearly smile.

My cheeks burned. Kyle had never lectured me like a child before because he never had a reason to…until now. I scowled at Dillan. He seemed unaffected. It was gonna be a long forty minutes.

By the end of class, our group had agreed to construct a diorama of the Boston Tea Party over the weekend.

“Can we have a sleepover?” Constance gave everyone in the group an expectant look.

“I don’t mind,” Kyle said. “We can have it at my place.”

“Umm…this is a mixed group, Constance,” I reminded her. Someone had to be the voice of reason. Plus, the idea of spending the whole weekend with Dillan appealed less than a tetanus shot. “Won’t your parents mind?”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” Excitement had her bouncing in her seat. “My cousins are coming over this weekend, and I don’t really want to share a room.”

“What makes you think Kyle has room to spare?” Dillan asked.

Before Constance could think of a reply, Kyle said, “There’s room.”

“There you go!” She clapped again. “What about you, Dillan? Would Mr. Sloan mind?”

He glanced at his uncle, who’d been erasing the blackboard. “He could care less,” he whispered. It seemed only I had heard him, and I didn’t know how I felt about it. Dillan Sloan and family drama didn’t fit my image of him.

“What?” Constance tilted toward him.

He shrugged. “I said he won’t mind.”

“It’s settled then.” Kyle gathered his things.

My jaw dropped. Settled? Didn’t I have a say? Apparently, the conversation was over when everyone stood up. Kyle’s pointed stare spoke volumes about not changing his mind.

…

Head still spinning because of the upcoming American History project weekend from hell, I almost didn’t spot the familiar back that walked ahead of me in the hallway before the next period. The project distracted me enough that I moved toward my locker without really thinking. My stomach tumbled. There really wasn’t a point in avoiding the inevitable. If we had to settle this then there was no better time than the present.

“Bowen?”

He turned. “Hey, you.”

His words flew above my head. The warm pools of black coffee eyes and that carefree smile confused me. Shouldn’t he still be pissed?

Faster than lightning, he grabbed my hand. His long fingers wrapped around my shorter ones. He pulled me the last couple of yards to my locker. I yanked my hand back when my brain caught up with what was happening.

“What was that about?” I asked.

He leaned his shoulder on the locker beside mine as usual and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I just wanted to remember how it felt. We always used to walk to your locker holding hands after class.”

“Bowen—”

“The location’s different from last year’s, but the feeling’s the same.”

“That’s not fair.” I punched in my combination and pulled open the door, using it as a shield against having to look at him. “Look, about what happened at Miller’s—”

“Did you get home alright?”

“Mr. Sloan gave me a ride.” I unzipped my bag, snatched a heavy textbook, and shoved it in with the rest I didn’t need for the day.

“With the new guy?”

The book I held remained suspended for a second before I stuffed it into my bag. This was gonna be harder than I had thought. “He was there. It’s his uncle’s car.” I tugged the zipper shut and slammed the door.

Bowen went stilled. His massive hands clenched into tight fists. Good, the anger was back. I could work with that.

“Bowen…” I cleared my throat and sifted through my options. “It’s really over.”

As if I snapped my fingers, the heat in his eyes dissipated. His face fell, and his shoulders slumped. In the years I’d known him, I’d never seen him less than confident. This destroyed imaged was beyond me. My heart squeezed. Penny’s voice echoed in my head, warning me not to be nice.

But before I could over think, I said, “Fine.”

The hope that blossomed on his face killed me. “What?”

“Friends.” I raised a finger to stop him from saying anything more. “Just friends.”

The force of his joy came in the form of a bear hug and booming whoop. I barely had time to process being lifted off the ground. His laugh filled the hallway, startling the few loitering students. I stifled a groan.

…

“I think I just made a huge mistake.” I dropped my head on top of my folded arms on the table. The cafeteria conversation swallowed the rest of my regret. Bowen sat with his teammates. Thank God! I couldn’t take any more of him today.

“What did I tell you about being too nice?” Despite her disapproval, Penny rubbed circles between my tight shoulders.

“I don’t know what happened. I really did tell him we were over. Now, I just want to disappear.” I slumped lower into the cradle of my arms. “Kill me now. End it before I make a bigger fool of myself.”

“Nope. You put yourself in this mess, and you have to get yourself out.”

My shoulders dropped, my limp arms hung down my sides like spaghetti. “How was I supposed to know Bowen’s sad face was my kryptonite?”

“Him cheating on you is a dick move.” She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. “But you have to admit that in the two years you were together, there weren’t any sparks. Wait!” She held up a hand just as I opened my mouth. “I think you like his company more than anything else. The sad part is…”

Her lips pursed.

I waited.

She sighed.

“Spit it out, Penny.”

“He fell in love with you.”

Shocker. “Bowen never said he loved me! He cheated, remember?”

“He was a love sick puppy with nothing but you on his mind. It was sickening to hear him talk about you all the time. Just ask any of his teammates. Don’t you think that maybe he cheated because he wanted you to get jealous? The Stop and Pump is like the worst place to hide a make out session. Even if you didn’t see him, the news would have eventually gotten back to you. Unfortunately, his plan backfired.”

I slapped the table. “Don’t put that crap in my head.”

“It was you and swimming.” A pause. “My point is…the fact that you didn’t see how Bowen was with you shows you didn’t feel the same way. When he held your hand today, what did you feel?”

I considered it, opening and closing my hand. “Like the old days.”

“No giddiness? No butterflies? No blush?”

“I’m a horrible person!” My forehead hit the table.

She patted my arm. “You’re not. You just don’t love him the way he loves you.”

“I shouldn’t have let his reaction affect me like that.” My voice picked up a notch. “You’re right, I’m too nice.”

“Something tells me this won’t the last time you mess up a relationship. Chalk it up as experience points.” She inched closer and wrapped her arms around me. “Now, tell me about this weekend project at Kyle’s.”

I actually felt tears well up at that.