Trouble from the Start (10 page)

When the bell rang, I was ready. I couldn't escape the four walls of algebra class fast enough. I hated the subject, disliked the teacher. He disliked me.

When I saw Avery, I just kept on walking. She fell into step beside me. There weren't many girls who could keep up with me, but she had legs that went on forever. She had no trouble at all.

“I ran into Morgan Anderson earlier,” she said, not even breathing heavily.

“Hope you didn't hurt her too badly.”

“What?”

“When you ran into her. I assume you were in your car.”

“Can you stop?” she asked.

“Not really. I'm ready for lunch. I'm hungry.”

She grabbed my arm. “Morgan said—”

I swung around. She closed her mouth, backed up a step. I could imagine what my face showed. I was pretty sure I hadn't gotten enough problems correct to get the score I needed to pass algebra. Without algebra, I wouldn't graduate. The last thing I wanted to deal with was some stupid reputation crisis.

“She thinks something happened between us,” I said. “She doesn't believe that all I did was take you home. What does it matter what she thinks or what she believes or what she's telling people? All of this”—I flung out my arms—“it doesn't mean anything. What all these people think doesn't make any difference. We know the truth of what happened. That's all that matters. Why can't you just care about that?” I wanted someone to punch me in the mouth, to shut me up. People were staring, but I couldn't seem to stop ranting. “In two days you won't ever walk these halls again. After graduation, you won't see most of these people again. Do you really think any of them are going to remember any kind of gossip that was going around about you? Not all of us are smart like you, Einstein. Most of us just want to get through it and get out.”

She blinked with those blue eyes of hers, only now they were bigger and rounder than I'd ever seen them. I took a deep breath, let it out through my mouth. Took another. Then glared at the kids standing around. “What are you
doing? Get out of here. Go eat lunch.”

They scurried. I took another deep breath, plowed my hands through my hair. “Sorry.”

She smiled, actually smiled. It wasn't much of one, but it was enough. “We had quite the audience. I'm pretty sure that now no one is going to think anything happened between us.”

I scoffed. “Yeah.”

She looked down at her feet, her white sandals. Her toenails were painted pink. I didn't know why I noticed. She finally lifted her gaze to mine. “She said you told her that you liked me.”

I slammed my eyes closed, opened them. “Don't read anything into that.”

“But you did say it.”

“She was making some snide comments and I wanted her to know I didn't appreciate it.”

“About me?”

I didn't want her to know what Morgan had said, didn't want to have this conversation. “What does it matter?”

“About me.” She nodded like she was answering her own question. “She wanted me to make sure you knew I wasn't interested, so she can date you.”

“I don't date. I get together with girls, we have a good time. She knows that.”

“Do you like her?”

I thought of a hundred things I could have said that would have had her heading down the hallway, but they would have all been lies, and for some reason I couldn't lie to her. “I used to. But again, what does it matter?”

She shrugged. “One more question.”

I sighed in resignation. “Sure, why not?”

“Did you blow the algebra test? You looked really unhappy when I was in the room earlier.”

Not what I was expecting. Not one I really wanted to answer. “Let's just say it was more complicated than I was prepared for.” Like you, I thought.

She nodded. “I'll let you go enjoy lunch now.”

“Maybe you should tell me where you're going so I can avoid it. Don't want to end up with tea all over me again.”

“You won't. Today I'll be drinking a shake.”

She started to walk off. I watched as she pulled her cell phone from her jeans pocket. A couple of seconds later, she was holding it to her ear.

“Hey,” I heard her say. “You free for lunch? Okay, see you soon. You know where. Love you.”

My gut twinged at the final words. She quickened her pace and I tried not to wonder who she was meeting, who she loved, or why I cared.

Jo-Jo's Diner was one of my favorite places, not so much because of the greasy food, but because of the memories I had of the place. When I was much younger, Mom and I would meet Dad here when he took a break from patrolling the streets. Sometimes I still met him here.

He was already sitting in a red vinyl booth when I arrived. He slid out and gave me a hug, before giving me a steely-eyed assessment.

“I'm fine,” I assured him before I slipped into the booth and opened the menu.

“You don't have that memorized yet?” he asked as he sat across from me.

“I was thinking of ordering something different.” I looked up. “Am I boring because I always order the same thing?”

“You're not boring.” Dad was wearing a dark brown suit. He'd been promoted to detective a few years back. Sometimes the patrol officers called Dad in to handle difficult cases. I still wondered how Fletcher had gotten into his orbit, but I didn't think he'd tell me if I asked.

The waitress came over and I asked for the pimento cheese sandwich and potato salad. Strawberry shake. The same thing I always ordered. Dad went with meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Coffee. Sometimes he went with pot roast. After the waitress left, he crossed his arms on the table. “So what's up?”

“Can't I just want to have lunch with you?”

“Avery, you're my daughter. I know you. When you call me for lunch, it's because there's something you want to discuss—usually without your mother around.”

We'd met here to plan a surprise party for my mom's fortieth. I'd met Dad here the first—and only—time I got a C on an exam. I'd met him here to discuss guys, grades, and college applications. I'd even met him here shortly after they'd adopted Tyler and I was struggling with no longer being an only child. Eventually I talked everything over with Mom. But Dad was almost always my first stop. Before I could drive, if I called him, he'd pick me up at school. He was always there.

“We won't be able to do this next year, when I'm off at college,” I told him.

“Find a diner you like in Austin. You can go there, I'll come here and we can video chat. It'll be almost the same.”

Almost. But I wouldn't smell my dad's Obsession aftershave. I wouldn't feel his large, warm hand cover mine with reassurance when the things we discussed were difficult, like when my grandparents died or a guy I was tutoring had overdosed.

The waitress brought us our food. I slurped on my shake, thought of the mess it would make if I poured it over Fletcher's head. He'd gotten off easy with the tea. Although I wasn't sure he'd deserved that either. It wasn't his fault what everyone thought.

Dad was watching me, waiting patiently. He never hurried his investigations. Never rushed me to tell him what was on my mind.

“So how important are reputations?” I asked.

He studied me while he finished chewing his bite of meatloaf, took a sip of coffee. “They're crucial. A good reputation can take you a long way.”

“But what if they're wrong?”

“Are you thinking of any in particular?”

There was so much that I didn't want my dad to know about Saturday night—that I'd lied about where I was going, that I'd been drinking, that I'd gotten a ride home with a guy I barely knew. It didn't matter that I knew him better now.

“A rumor was going around school about me. It wasn't true, but people believed it. I couldn't stop it from spreading, and it altered my reputation. It made me wonder if other reputations aren't true.”

“There's usually some seed of truth in a reputation,” he said.

I could see that. The seed in mine was that I
had
gotten a ride with Fletcher. I wondered what the seed was in Fletcher's, because he just didn't seem as bad as I'd always believed.

“But you shouldn't judge a person solely on their reputation,” Dad said. “Take Fletcher, for example.”

I sat up straighter.
Yes, let's take Fletcher as an example.

Dad tapped his fingers on the table, and I knew he was weighing his words. “He has a reputation for getting into trouble, truancy, not always following the speed limit. You have to dig a little deeper. Maybe he just had some tough breaks.”

“Like what?” I asked.

Dad gave me his Fort Knox look, which meant I wasn't breaking into his vault of confidentiality.

“I see some ugly stuff, Avery. It's part of the job. A lot of it I can't change. Thought I could change some things with Fletcher. Is it causing problems for you at school because he's living with us?”

“Oh, no,” I assured him. “I haven't told anyone.” I grimaced. “Well, except for Kendall and Jeremy. They know. But they're not saying anything. I don't think Fletcher has either.”

“Yeah, the kid has a lot of pride. Too much maybe. Makes it hard to help sometimes.” He grinned slightly. “But we were talking about
your
reputation, I think.”

“Kids thought something happened that didn't, and they started looking at me differently, expecting me to behave in ways I never would. I was just wondering if I was worrying about it too much. I won't see these people after graduation. Does it matter what they think?”

“It would help if I knew what they were thinking.”

“I'd rather not say.”

He mulled it over. “Just do the right thing, stay true to yourself. Your mom and I will always be proud of you.”

Which was what I wanted. Or at least what I thought I wanted. A part of me wished I was a little more like Fletcher and didn't care what people thought. It seemed like it would be so liberating.

“So you're almost finished with school,” Dad said, taking me away from things I was tired of thinking about. “How does it feel?”

“Great. And speaking of being finished with school, I thought maybe we should renegotiate my curfew once I graduate.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “In what way?”

“Could do away with it completely,” I suggested hopefully.

“I'm not willing to go that far. I don't think your mom will be either.”

“But I don't have to get up for class. And in a few months I'll be on my own. Seems like I should be getting ready for that big step. Practicing, setting my own limits for how late I stay out.”

He drummed his fingers on the table. “We'll try this. Let your mom know when you think you'll be home. Call if you're running late. But we retain the right to set a curfew anytime we think it's called for.”

That was more than I'd hoped for. “Deal.”

Then we started talking about sports and reality shows. As ready as I was to graduate, to move on, I also knew I was going to miss this so much.

When I got back to school, I discovered Fletcher leaning against my locker. People were hurrying by, getting to their lockers, heading for their afternoon final.

“Hi,” I said as I got closer.

“Hey.” He held out a package of cream-filled cupcakes.

I took his offering. “Tell me you didn't have lunch at a convenience store.”

“Grabbed a few things. Needed to ride for a bit. I'm sorry about earlier.”

“It's okay. I might be a bit obsessive about my reputation, about what people think.”

“I probably don't care enough.” He shook his head. “Nah, I'm fine not caring what people think.”

He glanced around.

“You know people are going to think you like me if you hang around at my locker,” I said.

Pushing away from the locker, he swung his gaze back to me. “I do like you.”

Then he walked away as though the world still spun on its axis.

“He said he likes you?” Kendall asked.

I'd held it in as long as I could. It was late the next afternoon. She and I had met up after our last class and were presently at a salon sitting beside each other in recliners while we got pedicures. We'd finished the manicures and our fingernails were now sporting purple and white stripes, our school colors, so we were ready for graduation.

“In what way?” she mused.

“I think in the way that I like rain.”

“You love rain.”

She was right. If it rained every day, all night, I'd be happy. “Okay, that's not a good example. I don't know. The way I like leaves in fall. They're pretty but I wouldn't miss them if they didn't change color.”

“How's he been acting since he said that?” she asked.

“That's just it. I haven't seen him. He wasn't at supper last night. And I didn't see him at school today. At all.”

She gave me a puppy dog look. “Then, yeah, you're probably an autumn leaf. Did you want to be more?”

I shook my head. “We don't have anything in common. Not like you and Jeremy. You study together, you're going to the same college, you have plans, you talk about things. Fletcher doesn't share things. Sometimes I think he's going to but it's like there's this wall and he just won't go over it.”

“He doesn't trust you. You can't have a relationship without trust. That's what my mom says. You need to find someone else.”

She made it sound like I'd found Fletcher, like I was breaking up with him or something. One of the nail technicians dimmed the lights. It was time for my favorite part of the pedicure. Sighing, I settled back as she began massaging my feet. My mind started to drift to Fletcher working the cramp out of my calf, kneading my muscles. Why did I keep thinking about him? Especially when I knew Kendall was right. Fletcher wasn't the one. He would never be the one.