I WAS GREETED AT THE door by my dad when I got home. “Bixby,” he snarled,”why did I get a call from your school saying you skipped out on your last class?”
Linc was behind him in the door way making dramatic crying faces, encouraging me to lie. I ignored him and went with the truth. “I had a bad day with everyone questioning me and when I got pulled into the office, I had had enough. You know what a moron Mrs. Tort is, I couldn’t take it. So I left.”
Dad didn’t seem to know how to argue with that. Mrs. Tort had gotten on his bad side after she tried to make a home visit after the accident. “Well, you’re grounded,” he said.
“Okay,” I replied, pushing past him.
“Um, from going out.”
“That’s what I figured, Dad.” I never went out.
“And the TV,” he added.
“No problem there,” I thought.
“And books,” he shouted, finally coming up with something he could take away that was actually a punishment to me.
“I have to read four Flannery O’Connor short stories for English tomorrow. But I promise not to enjoy them,” I said, rolling my eyes safely out of his vision. I had already read them but didn’t mind reading them again for class.
I tried to get into the bathroom to see my hair for myself but Linc was hovering in the kitchen, snitching cut up veggies, grated cheese and fried sausage as I put the lasagna together. “So how was school?”
“Fine,” I said absently. “Don’t eat all the cheese.”
“No, really,” he pressed. “Was everybody bugging you?”
“A little.”
“I told them to be nice to you,” he said.
That explained it. “You don’t have to do that, Linc; they’re your friends, not mine.”
“Makeup!” he suddenly burst out. “You’re wearing makeup, aren’t you?”
I made a face at him. “Right, cause I even own makeup.” My hands started shaking as I layered noodles into the pan. If anybody would notice a difference in me it would be Lincoln.
He was still peering at me. “Oh. It just looks like you have blush on, or mascara or something.”
“Pretty sure those are two totally different things,” I said. “Besides, maybe I just look a little different because you haven’t really seen me in two weeks,” I lied with a little pang of guilt.
Lincoln just shrugged and wandered off to the living room but I was starting to panic. Was Jack right? Was Jordan doing something to change how I looked?
I dumped the rest of the cheese in the pan, threw it in the oven and ran to the bathroom. I flicked on all the lights and looked into the mirror. Nothing seemed any different. I leaned over the counter, looking closely at my eyes and cheeks. Same brown eyes, same pinkish skin. Even the hair falling in my face was the same darkish, blah color.
I turned my face to the left and the right, ran my fingers through my hair and stared at myself two inches from the mirror. Whatever Jack and Lincoln were seeing, I thankfully didn’t.
Satisfied, I went back into the kitchen to finish dinner.
Everyone enjoyed it, Lincoln especially. Even my dad was in a good mood despite getting a call from the school.
After dinner, I dutifully did the dishes and put the food away. It should have been a relaxing night, reading some of my favorite short stories on the opposite side of the couch where Linc was trying to catch up on his missed school work. Even Grandma was peaceful, casually flipping through her cookbooks over and over again.
But I wanted to see Jordan again and wanting to see him was scaring me. I still wasn’t completely convinced I hadn’t had a psychiatric break and was a newly minted schizophrenic.
Just thinking about how sweet he had been the night before made my face flush. But he wasn’t human and I didn’t know him, part of me argued. Most of me agreed. But still, I couldn’t help but glow over the idea that a guy like that wanted to get to know a girl like me. If I didn’t know it was impossible, I would think he had a crush on me. That thought caused my face to catch fire and I hid behind my book, praying Lincoln wouldn’t notice.
I certainly didn’t have a crush on him. Boys and dating weren’t really my thing. I had never had a boyfriend, never been on a date and never even had a guy interested in me. And when I was interested in someone all I was able to do around them was blush and stutter. And I didn’t do that around Jordan. Well, not as much as usual.
I looked up from staring at my book to see Lincoln staring at me. “What?” I asked defensively.
He just shrugged and went back to his school work. I flipped a page to keep up my pretense of reading.
I didn’t even bother trying to focus on the words, just went right to analyzing every word Jordan had ever said to me. I knew he wasn’t interested in me; he had made it pretty clear he was just looking for someone’s brain to pick. And that was pretty much the only reason any guy ever talked to me, they needed help with homework or wanted to be in my group for group projects.
And then there was his admission of spying. Part of me knew that was creepy but another part was a little flattered he was so curious about me. And it was nice to think one person, or not-person, thought my vibrant dreams were interesting and not just weird.
And he had hugged me. Just thinking about it made warm flutters explode in stomach. I tried to push them back down. A hug didn’t mean anything, maybe he was just a nice person. Well, not a person exactly.
“Hello?” Lincoln yelled, pulling my book down.
“What?” I snapped, willing my cheeks to return to their normal color.
“Geesh, did you not hear me tell you ten times Grandma wanted to go to bed?”
“Sorry,” I muttered, getting off the couch.
Getting Grandma into bed was easy for once and I jumped into my own as soon as heard her snores.
I lay in bed forever, looking at the bright blue numbers on my alarm clock and glowing orange street lamp outside one of my windows. I didn’t even notice when I finally drifted off, just suddenly realized I had been hearing a fire burning for some time.
Chapter 12