The New Girl (5 page)

“Calm down, Baby,” she interrupted. “You'll
be eighteen in just a few months, and you're a year older now than
I was when you were born. You're beautiful, mature,
intelligent—”

“I'm not disputing
my good qualities
,”
I interrupted. “I'm questioning
your quality of judgment
.
This is highly irresponsible—”

“It's one night, Baby. Calvin had already
made plans with Alex. He didn’t want to bail on him, so he asked
him to tag along. Just help Mommy out, k? If nothing else, keep him
company.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
“Mom, stop. I need you to listen to me—”

“He's cute, huh?” She turned on her heels and
disappeared back into the foyer.

“Yeah,” I said to no one but myself.
“Absolutely gorgeous.”

I walked out of the living room, past the
front door, and into the kitchen. Calvin leaned over the stove
tasting Mom’s pasta. She stood with her hands pressed to her sides
and fingers crossed.

“It's delicious.” He kissed her cheek before
turning to meet my stare. “Baby?”

“Steph.”

“Steph,” he noted. He studied my face for a
few minutes—reminding me of how Nate had done on my first day of
school—and then extended his hand to shake mine. “It's nice to
finally meet you.”

Calvin was handsome— much like his brother—
though built a little larger and possessed a much stronger
jawline.

“Alex has moved on to the dining room, Baby.
You should go ahead and join him and we'll be in soon with the
food.”

I took a deep breath and pushed through the
door separating the two rooms. Alex sat facing me with his back to
the window. He shook his head and bit his lower lip, making my
heart pound a little too hard. Screw
handsome
. Screw
good-looking
. Alexander Rivera was, hands down, the sexiest
man I'd ever met in my life.

“Miss Ghijk,” he said, wearing a grin. “This
may very well be the strangest thing I've ever let my brother talk
me into—”

“I have a proposition to make.”

“Yes?”

“If you don't tell them, I won't kill
you.”

His eyes widened. “You drive a hard bargain,”
he said. “Why the secrecy?”

“Call me selfish, but I'm starting to like
the life I have in Webster Grove. Mom, however, doesn't need much
persuasion to pack up and leave on a whim.”

“And where do I fit in to all of that?”

“Caroline Ghijk lives in her own world, Mr.
Rivera,” I said. “She can't handle humiliation or rejection and she
views any negativity as ammunition to uproot and start over.
Imagine how she'd feel if she found out she set her teenage
daughter up on a blind date with her English teacher—”

“Technically, not a date,” he corrected me,
seemingly impressed that I thought so. “I’m just tagging along with
Cal—”

“But it’s my responsibility to keep you
company—”

“Okay,” he said. “If that’s what you want,
then we don't say anything. It's only one night.”

“Really?” I asked, and he nodded. “Okay… so,
I call you...?”

“Alex.”

“Right.”

“So,” he said, looking at the chair next to
his. “You going to sit?”

“Um....” I eyed the empty spot and shook my
head. “Nah, I’m good—”

“You should probably take a seat, Steph.
It’ll make this evening a lot less awkward—”

“You know, I’m fine standing.”

He lowered his head and glared at me.
“Steph.”

Great
. His teacher voice worked on me
even when we
weren’t
in the classroom.

I took his order, sitting next to him and
staring at the empty plate in front of me. I tapped my foot on the
floor and threw a quick glance in his direction. As he often did,
he bit his lip.

“So, your brother,” I finally said. “He's a
good guy?”

“The best.”

More silence. I don't know how long it
lasted, but it felt like hours. Realistically, my bet was on sixty
seconds.

“Mr. Rivera,” I said quietly, finally finding
the nerve to speak. “How are you able to be here this evening?”

“I know it’s hard for students to make the
distinction,” he said. “But I only teach during the daytime,
Steph.”

“No, I mean...where does Miss Holt think you
are?”

“I suppose she thinks I'm home grading papers
or drawing up lesson plans—”

“But aren't you two—”

“Contrary to popular belief, Steph, Karen’s
not an object of my affection. She and I are not together—”

“But everyone says—”

“I know what they say,” he said, shifting in
his seat. “You’re in high school. You should know by now that you
can’t believe half of what you hear. Rumors are nasty, nasty
things—”

“
Dinner
!” Mom yelled as she and Calvin
busted into the room carrying salads, pasta, and bread. After they
took their seats, and the food was passed around and portioned
evenly across the four plates, the familiar routine began.

“Baby, do you have any questions for Calvin?”
I took a bite and ignored her question. “Anything at all?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” I said, pretending to think
hard. “Are you a serial killer?”

“No,” Calvin said, widening his stare. Mr.
Rivera chuckled next to me and Mom pursed her lips.

“Rapist?”

“Of course not!”

“Married?”

“No.”

“Homosex—”

“That's enough, Baby,” Mom yelled. She took a
moment to compose herself and then said, “I meant
serious
questions.”

“In my defense, none of those questions were
intended jokingly—”

“It's okay, Caroline,” Calvin said.

“No, it's not,” she said. “You both mean a
lot to me, and I’d appreciate it if you would really take the time
to get to know each other.”

Pain flickered through her eyes.

“Where are you from?” I asked, humoring my
mother. Plus, Bridget would be thrilled to know that I'd finally
nailed down Mr. Rivera's ethnicity; she grovels in the knowledge
that lessens his mysteriousness.

“Right here in Webster Grove,” Calvin said,
taking a bite of the salad he'd helped Mom prepare. “Born and
raised.”

“On a larger scale, though. What about your
parents? Where are
they
from?”

Mr. Rivera smirked and lowered his head. “Our
grandparents
are Cuban.”

And with that, thirty minutes passed slowly.
The handsome teacher and I barely spoke a word to one another or to
Mom and Calvin. The love birds never looked away from the other;
they were seemingly head over heels and completely unaware of the
world around them.

“Who's ready for pie?” Calvin asked after the
dinner plates were clear.

“Me!” Mom bounced in her seat and clapped her
hands, doing an uncanny impression of Rachel Canter— better yet,
Bridget. Mr. Rivera and I shared a glance that told me he’d been
thinking the same thing. With a small laugh, we turned back to
Calvin and placed our orders.

Calvin collected the dirty dishes and
disappeared to the kitchen. He returned moments later, balancing
four small plates with a single slice of apple pie on each. He
passed them around and reclaimed his chair next to Mom. “Eat up,
hon.”

“Cal makes incredible pie,” Mr. Rivera said
with his mouth full. Unsurprisingly, he was beautiful even when he
was sloppy.

“I agree,” Mom said, squeezing Calvin’s hand.
“He's a genius in the kitchen...
and the bedr
—”

“Don't say it, Caroline,” I warned her.
“
Don't—you—dare—say—it.”

The room fell silent again as the Rivera
brothers stared between the Ghijk women. The quiet lingered for
another two minutes. I savored every bite, knowing that the quicker
I ate, the sooner Mr. Rivera would have to leave. Truthfully, I
enjoyed having his company.

I lifted the fork and took the final bite,
knowing it couldn't last forever. But without a moment's notice, a
searing pain ripped through my mouth.

“
Holy crap
!”

Mr. Rivera's hand landed softly on my back.
“Steph?”

“Blood,” I said, only intending a silent
observation. The painful throbbing and bleeding of my gums
distracted me from enjoying what could’ve been a magical moment of
comfort from the man sitting next to me. He rubbed his hand across
my back and watched with concern. I spit the chewed up pie into my
hand and found—mixed into the crusted apple bits—a large diamond
ring.

Calvin buried his head in his hands.

“
Idiot
,” he scolded himself.

“I think
this
belongs to
you
.”
I passed the ring to Mom and cleaned my hand on a cloth napkin.

“Calvin?” she questioned the jewelry with
wide eyes.

“Caroline,” he said, kneeling on the
floor.

“Oh,
come on
,” his brother said. “Cal,
get up.”

“Caroline,” Calvin continued, ignoring his
brother’s objection. “I know we haven't known each other long—”

“
Three weeks
,” Mr. Rivera interjected
again.

“But no one else in the world will ever
captivate me the way you do, love me like you have, and complete
every inch of my heart and soul—”

“Again,” I said. “
Only three
weeks
—”

“Baby, please,” Mom pleaded.
“
Hush
.”

It wasn't until his thumb began to rub my
shoulder that I realized Mr. Rivera's hand was still planted firmly
on my back. I looked at him, looking at me, sparking an undeniable
moment of attraction. I needed comfort, and something about his
touch told me that he understood that.

Calvin’s voice brought me back to
reality.

“Caroline Ghijk,” Calvin said. “Will you
marry me?”

The moment the word
yes
slipped off
her lips, I was out of my chair and leaving the room.

No way. Not happening. Over—my—dead—body.

Tuesday, September 27

“What's up, Steph?” Bridget asked.

I'd rushed upstairs and called her on the
webcam as quickly as my fingers could move.

“You won't believe the night I've had,” I
said through tears. “He proposed to her, Bridget!
Proposed
!”

“Whoa, Steph.... What’d she say?”

“Yes!”

“No… she
didn't
,” Bridget said,
lowering her head. “Oh, Steph. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

With three light knocks on the door, Mr.
Rivera stuck his head in. “Steph? Everything okay?”

I shifted the computer on the desk, facing it
toward the window. On the other end of the room, he bit his lip and
leaned against the doorframe as I stared at my hands in my lap,
praying Bridget hadn't seen or heard him.

“Who was that?”

“Huh?” I said, now looking back at the
screen.

“At the door,” she said. “Someone just came
in—”

“Oh.” I shook my head. “It was just the
radio.”

Mr. Rivera restrained a laugh and mouthed
“
the radio
?” I shrugged and turned back to Bridget just as
she shook her head.

“No, Steph. I
swear
I just saw Mr.
Rivera in your room,” she said. “Are you sure he's not there?”

I laughed nervously, glaring at him over the
computer. He was still leaning in the doorway, willingly
eavesdropping on my conversation. “Bridge, come on, why would he be
in my room?”

“Beats me, but I swear I saw his face—”

“Oh, well, yeah.... his
face
, sure...
but not....
him
.” Holy crap, where was I going with this? He
must’ve been wondering too because he stood a little taller and
listened intently. “I… took a picture of him in class the other day
and... made a full-sized poster for the wall.”

“No way!” she said, practically hopping in
her chair. “But I don't remember seeing it earlier—”

“I hung it up after you left. I didn't think
you'd understand.”

“Understand?
Honey
, that man is the
father of my future children—”

“Bridge,” I warned as Mr. Rivera cupped his
hand over his mouth to restrain laughter.
“Don't—say—another—word.”

“Oh, come on! Even
you
admitted that
he’s sexier than—”

“
Bridge
!”

“Okay, okay,” she said, throwing her hands
up. “You called dibs.”

“I
never
called dibs,” I said, more
for his benefit than hers.

My eyes met his again and I stared at
Alexander Rivera. Bridget kept talking, but her words were lost on
me. I couldn't make sense of anything except how incredibly
beautiful the man standing in my doorway was.

“Steph?” Bridget said. “
Hel-looo
.”

“Huh?” I brought my attention back to
her.

“Staring at Mr. Rivera?”

“I told you, Bridge.
He’s not
here
—”

“I meant the poster, Steph. Geesh. Is
everything okay?”

“Fine.” I nodded. “I'm just flustered.
Listen, I gotta go. Tell Nate I said hi and don't forget the
designs tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said. “Call back if you need
anything—”

“I will.” I ended the session and signed off
the computer as an extra precaution. I looked up at my teacher and
pursed my lips. “What are you doing in here?”

“Caroline asked me to come up and check on
you—”

“Ha! Sucker,” I said, shaking my head. I
walked to the bay window and sat down. “She didn’t want you to come
up here and check on me. She just wanted to get
rid
of you
so she could be alone with Calvin.”

“I figured,” he said, nudging himself off the
doorframe. “Mind if I join you for a second?”

“Might as well.” I stared outside at the
large oak tree, wishing I had the guts to jump out. Problems would
be so much easier to run from if I had half the nerve it required
to open the latch, jump out, and shimmy down… but I, unlike Mom,
never really cared much for starting over. But tonight, for some
reason…the idea of leaving Webster Grove in the dust had never
sounded better.