Someone Else (17 page)

“How’s it going?” Jill asked me in this low, conspiratorial voice, the kind people use when inquiring about your health after a long, serious illness. I had a flash of the holiday dance two months before, where she’d given me a look that held that same unspoken concern.

“Fine,” I said, and my fatigue must have short-circuited my brain then, because I added, “Is there something you want to say to me, Jill?”

A look of surprise crossed her face. She opened her mouth to respond, but shut it quickly when Jessica came up behind us.

“Taylor,” Jess said, stringing her arm through mine. “I forgot to ask you if you wanted some cake. Come on, I’ll get you a slice.” As she led me away I looked back at Jill, who was slipping into the bathroom, a frown creasing her forehead.

“What is her problem?” I said. I hated it when someone acted like they knew something I didn’t. Like right now with Jess, for example.

“Jill has lots of problems,” she said, running her hands over her shiny hair. “Pick one.”

“She acts like she wants to tell me something. What’s that about? She doesn’t even know me.”

Jessica sighed, as if the whole topic was too ridiculous to even entertain. “You know the girl Dylan dated before Breton?”

I shook my head. Dylan and I hadn’t discussed exes yet. We were still at the “What’s your favorite movie?” stage.

“Well, he went out with this girl Anna for a few months last year. She dumped him back in July and he was crushed.”

I made a keep-going motion with my hand. “So?”

“So Jill is like best friends with Anna. Maybe she has something against the girls Dylan dates, out of loyalty to her friend.”

I glanced over at Dylan, who was standing against the wall, watching us with a guarded expression. Turning back to Jess, I asked, “Why did Anna dump him?”

She shrugged. “He was too intense for her, I guess.”

Intense
. Jessica used that word a lot with regard to Dylan. And with good reason, I understood now. Only two weeks into our relationship and already I could see it.

“What about Breton?”

“What about her?”

“Did she dump him too?”

“Breton didn’t count, Taylor. He was just using her to make you jealous. They barely even went out, except when he knew you’d be there. Like at the holiday dance.”

I wasn’t sure what to do with this information. All I knew was that using someone to make someone else jealous seemed cruel and immature, two things I never thought Dylan to be. Then again, his plan had worked beautifully. I
had
felt jealous of Breton.

“I’ll get you some cake,” Jess said, propelling me toward Dylan, whose eyes had never left us the whole time we’d been talking.

“No thanks,” I said over my shoulder. “I don’t want cake.”

“Don’t be silly. Everyone wants cake.” She moved toward the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

I sighed and took my place next to Dylan. He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. “What were you and Jess talking about?”

“Girl stuff.” It was an answer that would have appeased most guys, but Dylan still looked unsure, so I added, “Gossip. You know Jess.”

He nodded, his face relaxing. We both knew Jess. So, when she came back downstairs with my cake a few minutes later, I knew better than to refuse again. I thanked her politely and ate the cake.

Chapter 15

“Taylor, when are you and Michael getting back together?”

I turned the music down and glanced over my shoulder at my sister, who was sitting in the backseat. Our mother claimed it was safer for her to ride in back, but having her behind me instead of next to me always made me feel like a taxi driver.

“What?”

She repeated her question and I could feel her staring at my profile, waiting. We were on our way to school, and as usual Emma liked to cross-examine me as we drove.

“I don’t think we are,” I said.

“Why not?”

I braked at a red light. “Because we broke up for a reason and nothing’s changed.”

“Will it ever change?”

The light turned green and I accelerated, thinking that this question was an easy one. “Probably not, Em.”

“Is Dylan going to be your new boyfriend?”

I laughed a little. This kid was relentless. “Maybe. Why? You don’t like him?” Leave it to me to seek approval from an eleven-year-old.

“He’s not as cute as Michael. And not as nice either.”

“He’s just quiet, that’s all. It doesn’t mean he isn’t nice.” We pulled up alongside the curb in front of the elementary school. “Give Dylan a chance,” I said.
Like I’m trying to do.

“If you say so.”

She grabbed her backpack and jumped out of the car, not looking back as she sprinted up the walkway to the school. I sat there for a moment, watching the rain pelt against the windshield and trying not to let the bleak weather—along with the mention of Michael—dictate my mood for the day.

Next, I swung by Ashley’s house to pick her up, something I still did every morning in spite of the fact that we’d grown apart in the past few months. She was always so busy, and I had my job and a whole new group of friends, most of whom she detested. Ashley wasn’t the type to fake it for the sake of social acceptance, so our friendship these days was pretty much contained to carpooling and locker-sharing.

“Have you been talking to Erin lately?” Ashley asked me on the way to school. Erin—along with Brooke and chemistry class—was one of our common-ground topics.

“Not for a couple of weeks. You?”

“She emailed me last night to gush about this guy she’s seeing. She dedicated an entire paragraph to describing his body in excruciating detail. ‘His leg hair is so soft!’” she imitated in a high-pitched voice, making me laugh. “She’s in love.”

“Clearly,” I said, amused by the look of pure repugnance on Ashley’s face.

“As if I wanted to know about her boyfriend’s leg hair. Or about what they were doing to, you know, allow for leg-hair stroking.”

Another laugh bubbled up, but I hid it inside a cough. Ashley shot me a look anyway, knowing exactly what I was thinking—that maybe it was time for her to…well, stroke some leg hair, so to speak. See what all the fuss was about. But then I glimpsed the purity ring on her finger and remembered she wouldn’t be stroking anything until after she said “I do”.

“I feel like I’m the only sane one left,” Ashley whined. “Erin’s in love, Brooke’s practically engaged to Alex, and you and Dylan are suctioned together at the hip.” She sucked in her lips and then released them, producing a loud popping noise. “That’s how you sound when you separate at the end of the day.”

“Funny.”

“Just answer me this.” She opened her door, a teasing smile on her face. “Does he have soft leg hair?”

I concentrated on locking the car, keeping my face passive as if refusing to dignify her question with any kind of response. And I was doing well too, until we met up with Dylan at the side entrance, where he waited for me in the mornings. Seeing him, Ashley snorted and then busted out laughing. I couldn’t help but join in.

“Did I miss out on a joke?” Dylan asked, his eyes narrowing as he tried to determine if we were laughing at
him
. Which we kind of were. But I wasn’t about to tell him that.

“Yeah,” I said, elbowing Ashley in the ribs. She calmed down and the three of us started toward the Dungeon.

When the bell rang, Dylan walked me to French. He lingered by the door, hesitant to relinquish me for even an hour. “We still on for later?” he asked. His hand brushed my cheek before resting on the back of my neck.

“Sure.” There was a chemistry test coming up on Friday, and the night before on the phone we’d made plans to study together at my house after school.

“See you at lunch,” Dylan said. He leaned in to kiss me, but Madame Bedeau appeared in the doorway and cut him off at the pass. She ushered me into the classroom while shooting Dylan a glare that could pierce metal. Once he was gone, she turned back to me and pursed her orange lips. The woman was firmly against fraternization.

“
S'asseoir maintenant
,” she said.

I took my seat next to Jess, who was on time for once. I looked over at her, all set to make a sarcastic comment about old crusty Bedeau, and noticed that her eyes were red. Like she’d just finished crying. Right away, I thought the worst. Her father was sick. Brent dumped her. Brent dumped her for Jill Holloway.

“Are you okay?” I whispered.

She swallowed hard. “Jake Hanson is dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, assuming Jake Hanson was her uncle or something.

“Thanks.” She let out a little sniff. “He was the oldest one. I thought he looked kind of pale the other day, but he seemed to cheer up after a water change. Then this morning I found him at the bottom of the tank. Dead.”

I put down my pen. “Wait. Jake Hanson is a fish?”

“A black neon tetra. I had him for five years.”

I didn’t know quite what to say to a person who was grieving over a scaly creature that lived in its own filth. “You named him Jake Hanson?”

“It’s the name of a character on a show my mother used to watch when I was little.”

“Oh,” I said. Now I understood a little better. It was the fish who represented a memory of her mother, and now he was gone. Flushed away. “That’s too bad.”

“He was a good fish.”

Madame Bedeau started talking then, and for the rest of the class Jessica did her fish doodles, filling up two pages of notebook paper. She slid one over to me, a gift for not making fun of her for growing attached to such a fragile creature, one that was pretty much destined for a quick death. I studied her drawings and noticed that all the fish looked sad, as if they were missing their friend too.

****

My house was usually empty in the afternoons. Mom worked until five and Emma attended an after-school program at her school, so on the days I didn’t work, I had the house all to myself for two full hours.

Before our first after-school study session, Dylan had been over few times, but only while my mother was home. All very innocent. And the day we studied for the chemistry test was innocent too, even though we’d been completely unsupervised.

But after that, after all our chaste little study-dates with my mother lurking nearby, after we’d crammed in enough chemistry to ensure each of us a half-decent grade on our test, Dylan started coming home with me in the afternoons when we didn’t have anything to study for at all.

The first few times, we made out on the couch, reclining against the pile of blue corduroy pillows. When the couch started feeling cramped we moved to my bed, where the spark that had been smoldering between us these past few months grew into an inferno. What I felt for Dylan wasn’t even close to what I’d once felt for Michael, but that didn’t dampen the physical attraction I had for him. I wasn’t sure if it was simply my hormones taking over, or if my feelings for him had evolved into something deeper. All I knew was that kissing him helped me feel a little more alive.

On one snowy Tuesday afternoon, we went to my house with the intent to do some actual homework for once, but only got as far as spreading our books out on the kitchen table before heading to the bedroom for a “break”. Forty-five steamy minutes later, we stumbled back out into the kitchen, our eyes squinting against the bright overhead light.

“Let’s try this again,” I said, picking up my pencil with weak fingers. I felt dazed and a little ashamed, like I always did after emerging from the bedroom on these afternoons. Fortunately the shame part never lasted—all I had to do was think about Michael getting naked with some girl and the guilt would evaporate like a fine mist.

“I’ll be able to concentrate now,” Dylan said. His leg grazed mine under the table.

“Okay. Intermolecular forces. List four types.” I slumped against my book. “God, this crap is so boring.”

“We could go back in your room.”

“Nice try.”

I clutched his knee to stop his leg from rubbing against mine and distracting me from this fascinating lesson in solubility. He reached under the table to loosen my grip, wrapping his fingers around mine. I thought he was being romantic until I felt his thumb wiggling against the ring on my right hand.

“When are you going to take this off?” he asked, resting our linked hands on top of my textbook. The ring Michael had given me back in September glinted in the light, its infinite loop more endless than ever.

“I don’t know,” I said. Actually, it had never occurred to me to take it off. It was a gift, and I liked it.

“You guys broke up two months ago,” Dylan reminded me. “You’re with me now. Don’t you think it’s time to get rid of all the sentimental stuff?”

I bristled. Nothing irked me more than being told what I should do or think, especially by someone who had no call to offer an opinion in the first place. “It’s just a ring,” I said, sliding my hand away from his and placing it in my lap. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“To me it means that you don’t really believe it’s over with him.”

Our eyes met and we stared each other down; a challenge. This wasn’t the first time he’d acted possessive over me, and it wasn’t something I enjoyed or appreciated. Sometimes I could reason away his occasional petulance, blame it on his being an only child who was used to getting his own way, but other times, like now, it just pissed me the hell off.

“I’m not taking it off.” I forced myself to maintain eye contact for five seconds, counting down in my head. Five, four, three, two, one, look away.

“Fine,” he said. And just like that he became the old Dylan again, the one with the perpetual scowl that shut out everyone around him. Tension crept through the room.

“We’d better go,” I said. “My mother would kill me if she knew you were here.”

Silently, he gathered his things together and followed me out to the car. We didn’t speak again until we were parked outside his house, a tidy split-level located just a few streets over from Jessica’s house. He’d moved there when he was twelve, when his father got transferred for his job. He was some kind of sales manager who traveled a lot. His mother was one of those Betty Crocker types who baked things from scratch, and when she wasn’t in the kitchen, she worked part-time at the library. I’d met both of them about a week after Dylan and I got together, but hadn’t seen them since. Dylan preferred my house, where cookies came from boxes and mothers worked in the afternoons, leaving teenage children to their own devices.