7. So Not Right

Nonchalant.

That’s what I’m going for in English class. Calm, relaxed, cool.

But Jocelyn and I both know I’m doing a horrible job at it.

Every time I’ve stared back at her—two rows away, three seats back—I see those eyes on mine.

There’s no elephant in the room. It’s a fox, waiting silently and watching with steady eyes.

Even at the end of the class I find myself moving slower than usual.

My hope is rewarded. I feel a tug at my shirt and hear a warm voice call out my name.

I turn toward her and nearly get trampled by a football player.

“Hey,” I say.

Nonchalantly.

You’re not fooling anybody.

We keep heading out of the room and reach the hallway where I see soft, seductive, sad eyes look at me.

“I’m sorry about the other day.”

“Oh, no. That’s fine.”

The smile Jocelyn gives me is far too mature for a sixteen-year-old.

Even that smile seems to contain an air of sadness.

“That was Wade. My step-uncle. Well, that’s what he calls himself, even though he hasn’t technically married my aunt, whom I live with.”

Every word she says makes me blush a little more. I keep wanting to interrupt her, to say it’s fine, it’s not my business, it’s really okay, I can pack up our things and drive her to California this afternoon if she’d like.

My face feels warm.

I’m such a loser.

“As you could see, Wade is quite the winner,” Jocelyn says.

“I’m just—no—it’s fine.”

Seriously. What is coming out of my mouth? Words, yes, but barely. A jumble of third-grade nonsense.

“I’m sorry he was so rude. Believe it or not, that was Wade on a good day.”

“So you live with your aunt?”

Jocelyn smiles again, brushing that long dark hair to one side and knowing that I’m changing the subject on purpose.

“Long story. I don’t know which is the bigger nightmare: my parents’ sad story or my aunt and her love life.”

“My parents are divorced.”

“Mine passed away. A long time ago.”

“Wow, I didn’t mean—”

“I didn’t say that for sympathy. Really, it’s fine. Aunt Helen—you know, you’d think adults might think things through before subjecting kids to a life of utter misery, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“I better get going, but look—find us at lunchtime, okay? Do you mind?”

“Well, I was planning on having lunch with Gus and his friends, but maybe I can change my mind.”

She laughs. “That’s funny, but don’t go there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mr. Meiners was right, Chris. You don’t want to mess with him.”

I’m about to reply, just to keep the conversation going, when Poe, dressed in all black as if it’s Halloween, comes out of nowhere and puts an arm around Jocelyn and scoops her away.

“See you later,” Jocelyn calls out.

Poe doesn’t even say hi, which I’m already used to, having known her for almost a week now. The only time she seemed reasonably excited to be around me was that first day. Since then, she’s been indifferent. Perhaps she’s decided that I’m not as cool or unique as she thought. Or maybe it’s just Poe. Who knows.

I want to ask what the deal is with Gus and why everybody is so afraid of him.

It makes me curious. And a little more defiant.

Gus doesn’t scare me.

The only thing around here that scares me are those hazel eyes.

“Over here, Chris!”

Rachel’s voice carries over the din of the cafeteria, where the scent of corn dogs and pizza hovers. I see messy blonde hair and animated eyes and a hand flapping, motioning me to come over. It feels like everyone is watching as I take my lunch over to where the three girls are sitting.

Poe is talking to Jocelyn and doesn’t even stop as I sit down.

“Glad you found us,” Jocelyn says.

“Yeah, it was really hard.”

“How’s your second week going?” Rachel asks as she pulls her chair closer to mine.

I can’t help notice all the jewelry adorning Rachel—bracelets and necklaces and earrings. Her hair is curly in a way that looks more bed head than intentional. She’s got a round face and a rosy nose that makes me think she’d be good as Santa Claus’s daughter.

“Fine so far. No drama.”

“Just give it time,” Poe says in a world-weary voice. “There’ll be drama, just not any kind that’s interesting.”

“Just ignore her,” Rachel says. “The witching hour is almost here.”

“Shut up.”

Rachel ignores her. “She’s just angry because her date is taken for the Halloween dance.”

“Halloween dance?” I ask.

“Oh, yeah. They really celebrate Halloween around here. It’s like some big festival. I’m just waiting for the farmers to bring their pigs in to sacrifice.” Rachel giggles and looks at Poe. “For this dance, the girls ask the guys. And Poe had her eyes set on this little freshman boy.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. You told us last week that you were thinking about asking him.”

“Thinking is not asking,” Poe says.

“She was going to until we learned that he was already asked.”

As Rachel and Poe argue, I glance over at Jocelyn. She rolls her eyes and smiles and continues playing with some grapes in a plastic bag.

“So who are you going to ask then, huh?” Rachel eventually says.

“Maybe I’ll be like Jocelyn and not go.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?”

“Have fun with Lee.”

“He’s a nice guy,” Rachel says.

Poe looks at me. “I mean, come on. Lee? Only in the South, huh? The war is over, and you lost. Get real.”

“If you think she’s pleasant now, wait until there’s a full moon.” Rachel makes a baying sound.

I can’t help but laugh.

I also can’t help but notice all the eyes watching me.

A part of me wants to stand up and ask what everybody’s problem is. But listening to the girls talk—especially Rachel, who doesn’t seem to care about being loud—I can see why people are staring.

But I wonder if there’s more to it.

I find myself more and more glad this trio decided to befriend me.

“Maybe someone will ask the new boy here,” Poe says.

I smile and avoid looking at Jocelyn. It would be too obvious. Too clichéd. Too much to look in her eyes.

She already knows.

“I’d be careful,” Jocelyn says, as if reading my mind.

“Why’s that?”

“There are some really scary people around here. Not just the guys. Some of the girls—” She fakes a grimace.

Rachel laughs. “Give me a break.”

“She’s being honest,” Poe says. “Everybody here is just a little different.”

“Good to know I’m hanging out with the right people.”

Poe’s ghostly white face looks serious, almost startled. “Oh, we’re so not the right people, Chris. If you’re looking for those, you’re definitely sitting in the wrong place.”

“I like where I’m sitting.”

Jocelyn takes a grape and starts chewing on it as if to mask the smile on her lips.