Maybe Me Page 15

  I was fully ignoring him, or at least trying very hard not to listen to his poem. But then I heard him reading/romanticizing something about Burdmon Street, and yellow daisies, and his heart pounding, and then suddenly the poem ends with, “And the car crash is owed to Jane.”

  Blinking, I sit in stunned silence, staring at Hunter as he peeks up at me from his paper. Slowly he leaves the stand, though he does a little bow as people whoop and applaud his poem that I missed most of, but now wish with all my heart, desperately bad, that I had heard.

  Meanwhile, I can feel Skank’s eyes boring into me from across the classroom, shooting me daggers with her glare. After class, she “accidently” bumps into me.

  She growls, “Hunter only wrote that lame poem in class to annoy me.”

  I scoff at her reasoning. “Why would he want to do that?”

  She narrows her eyes, like she’s “annoyed” to tell me. But finally she snarls, “Because we broke up—for the moment.”

  Though hearing this does alarming things to my heart, the news that they broke up really shouldn’t do a thing to my heart, or my spirits, or anything inside me. Because they break up all the time. They break up, then get back together on a continual basis. They’ve been doing that ever since they got together in the first place—over a year ago. It’s a pattern with them. Not that I’ve been paying attention. (Well, I try not to.)

  … however, things are different this time. For one thing, Hunter has never gotten me involved in his spats with her before. In fact, until Hunter suggested I wear different clothes when I run in the mornings he hadn’t said a single word to me in the past year unless it was rather cold and a quite cryptic. Other than that, he seemed to avoid me and wince if he saw me around. Like the mere sight of me was unpleasant for him—or maybe he just knew Skank and I would come to verbal blows if we were anywhere in the same proximity to each other.

  So … the poem thing was new.

  Very new.

  And so was the mere fact Hunter had actually come near me, and voluntarily spoke to me … though it was just to tell me that I blend into the street (and daisies). Still though, it wasn’t at all the way Hunter had behaved towards me in the past. The other night instead of wincing at the sight of me, he had stared.

  And now he wrote a poem about me.

  “He’s just trying to get me back,” Skank snarled.

  I grinned, though she was probably right. Still, this was fun. “Who are you trying to convince, snarly-girl?” I asked her. “Me or yourself?”

  Then I skipped away, for once actually happy I blend in with the street.

  CHAPTER 5

  Almost immediately after my confrontation with Skank, where she was quite adamant that Hunter was only trying to get her back into their demented couple-dom with his romantic/puzzling poem about me making him crash his car (or something!) (whatever that poem was about), anyway right after my confrontation with Skank, I’m in a total mystified cloud (once again) about Hunter. As I round the corner to my locker—whoa! There’s Hunter. He’s down the hallway coming my direction from the opposite end of the corridor. My heart thumps wildly seeing him.

  Just go back to forgetting him, I instruct myself. Get a grip, Jane!

  As I jag to the left to not walk directly into his path, he follows my jag. So we’re still on the same path. Although he’s still down the hallway quite a ways, I jag to the right anyway, but then so does he. My heart does a jolt as I realize he’s doing this on purpose. I’m trying to get out of his way, but he’s making sure he’s in mine.

  As he whimsically strolls straight towards me (no matter which side I choose, meandering that direction) he acts like he doesn’t even see me. So, I try to pass him without a word. But he blocks my way as I try to squeeze by him. He cages me against the wall and breathes into the curve of my neck.

  He murmurs in a deep throaty whisper, “I miss that,”

  I can barely breathe. I choke out, “What?”

  His lips brush my ear. “Your smell.”

  He breathes into my neck again, then he pushes himself away from the wall, away from me, and continues down the hallway.

  For a moment I can’t speak. His closeness took away my breath, and dissolved all my brain-cells.

  But then I call after him, “I know you’re only using me to get Skank mad.”

  He turns back to me, “Am I?”

  “Yes, and knock it off. Leave me out of your evil love spat.”

  He makes a low grunt noise, his lips parting slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t deny it. He just tilts his head watching me silent a moment, then slowly nods, like confirming it’s true. He was using me. Toying with me. Being cruel to me as usual. Well, usual for this past year. (He used to be kind to me. Exquisitely sweet. But that was a long time ago.)

  He slowly nods his guilt or resign, then turns away from me and continues down the hallway.

  I watch him go with my heart in my throat, wishing so bad that things were different. That things hadn’t gone so horribly heart-shattering awful between us. That he was still my everything.

  Hunter had once been my hero, truly my everything.

  Key word: HAD been.

  Once upon a time.

  But then he ripped out my heart.

  CHAPTER 6

  The very next day after his poem, Hunter practically runs me over as I’m running down Burdmon street. I tumble into the ditch beside me as he squeals on his breaks.

  He jumps out of his car, then squeezes his eyes shut as he sees me glaring up at him from the ditch. With a sheepish grin, he murmurs softly, “Sorry.”

  “I’m wearing PURPLE!” I growl, gesturing at my outfit. “Purple!”

  He glances up at the sky a moment. “Yes, I know you’re wearing purple, Jane.” After a moment, he adds, “I prefer that color on you really, by the way.”

  “Then why’d you run me over?” I growl.

  He flicks his jaw muscles, like he doesn’t want to answer, then he says softly, “You take me by surprise, Jane.”

  His soft voice does something to my heart, but I try to ignore it, since I’m bleeding—and it’s his fault.

  “Get in,” he says gently, gesturing to his car. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

  I narrow my eyes, suspicious and bitter. “So you can run into Skank?”

  His jaw muscles flicker. He’s silent for a moment, then says, “No. If I wanted to run into her, all I’d have to do is answer her texts. Or let her in the guarded gate—you remember the gate-guard, right? He’s still there. Still does his job.”

  I tilt my head. “And you have him keeping her out?”

  Hunter’s jaw muscles flicker again. Slowly he nods. “Get in, Jane. It’s not like the gate-guard will let you in either, so relax. I’m just taking you home—not making a play for you.”

  When I don’t move, he sighs. “Look, I realize almost mowing you down with my car probably appears super smooth and romantic—but I swear it was an accident, and it’s not actually how I pick up girls. Really. I promise. If you weren’t now bleeding, I’d drive on by. Just like I do every day.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “You wrote a poem about me,” I remind him.

  He deadpans, “Did I? I don’t recall. Look, get in, Driver-distraction. I’ll take you home.”

  “Not going to happen Hunter,” I tell him and start running again, though my scraped knee hurts like a mother.

  He calls after me amused-like, “I wasn’t picking up on you Jane. I’m just a bad driver.”

  Only a few moments later he’s in his car again. He drives slowly beside me, and rolls down his window. “Jane, you’re limping,” he says in exasperation. “Get in.”

  “No thanks,” I mutter. “You and your poems and car should stay away from me—crazy stalkers!”

  He groans around an amused grin, “Jane, you adorable ego-maniac little freak, I’m not hitting on you. You’re bleeding.”

  I roll my eyes. “Look, Hunter. I don’t want to get in
the middle of your demented love thing with your skank. Veer the crazy away from me.”

  He gives me a look I can’t read. “Jane, I’m not getting back together with her.”

  I scoff. “Yeah. Right.”

  He draws out a loud dramatic breath. “Let’s get this straight—I’m not hitting on you, and I’m not getting back together with your enemy.” He adds, “But don’t be offended that I date half the female population at the school.”

  “You mean before you get back together with Skank.”

  He looks into my eyes, “What?—are you jealous?”

  “Not at all. I just know you, Hunter.”

  “Or you think you do.”

  I give him a dramatic wave, then cut through the woods. I don’t look back, but I know he’s watching me still, so I dart into a thick of trees.

  I don’t know what’s going on with him suddenly—but I need him to stop.

  My heart can’t take another round with him.

  The dude had totally owned my heart. Then he stomped on it.

  There are no second chances with that sort of thing. When someone slaughters your heart—no. No second chance. But the thing is—he never even acted like he wanted one before.

  … not that he exactly did now either, actually.

  But something has definitely changed with him. He hadn’t even talked to me for over a year. Now he’s writing poems about me?—and breathing on me?

  I make a vow not to let it get to me—whatever he’s doing.

  He’d once been kind and sweet. I trusted him completely.

  But then, like I said: he slaughtered my heart.

  These days it’s hard to believe he was my first kiss, let alone my first love.

  Life is weird.

  … and sometimes it majorly sucks.

  CHAPTER 7

  Even though it hurts, I’ll take you back to that time—back to when I first met Hunter.

  It happened when I became an orphan. I lost my family in a car accident. My parents were dead on the spot, but my little brother held on to life a little longer. He was in a coma for months. But he never came through.

  So yeah, that car crash took my whole family. Lucky for me, I’d been at my friend Ally’s at the time. Or maybe it was unlucky. Back then I wasn’t sure. Not going to lie: I did NOT feel lucky. Not in anyway.

  After my family died I had to move in with my aunt and uncle. They weren’t exactly pleased to have me. To be fair, they weren’t exactly mean (well, okay they were) but the thing was, they already had their own kids: my cousins—Gia, Ellie, and Judd. None of them liked me. We seriously didn’t get along. So, I guess that was why my aunt was thrilled when she got a strange (aka: scary) request. It was insane! What was the request?—that I go live with some hoity-toity rich family for the summer. A family I didn’t know. At all. Never even met.

  “You’ll be like the rich people’s nanny,” my aunt explained when I about keeled over learning she was willing to shill me out to complete strangers.

  I gulped. She’d really send me away?—to strangers?! I wiped away a tear, trying not to let my voice quiver. After all, I’d tried my hardest to act tough ever since I’d come to live with them. Like their unkindness didn’t bother me. Like I didn’t even care. But well, I was only fifteen. And fragile as broken china. So really I did care—immensely. So much.

  It was like a sword slashing through my heart every time I caught them complaining about me living with them. And now? Now they were sending me away? I swallowed, trying to sound incredulous rather than wounded and terrified. “But—but they don’t even know me. Why would they want me?”

  My aunt explained again, “Apparently the workers at the hospital told them about you. You know, from when you used to visit your little brother in the coma. They said you would make a fine Candy-striper. And the people that want you to stay with them—they just need you be like you were for your brother.”

  “But—but my brother was in a coma.”

  My aunt patted my arm, almost sympathetically (almost). “I know sweetie, but look, these people are willing to pay you for the things you had done for your brother for free. Plus, these people are extraordinarily rich. They will pay you well and you’ll get to live in a mansion—and they have a pool. It will be like a vacation! Plus, you and Gia haven’t been getting along so well since you stole her boyfriend.”

  Heat swamped my cheeks. I gasped out, “I didn’t steal him! I didn’t even want him.”

  The boy was horrid and a perv.

  “Fine, fine,” my aunt said dismissively, though she didn’t believe me—ever (about anything). “It’s all forgiven and forgotten—well, it will be if you go off and do this fortuitous job. While you’re away I’m sure Gia can patch things up with her little love and by the time you come back, who knows? Maybe she will have forgiven you.”

  For what?—being attacked by her boyfriend’s tongue? (Shudder!!!!)

  “Fine,” I whispered. Anything was better than having to see that boy again. Or have my mean cousins continue with their mean pranks on me. Pranks that they called “revenge.” Yet I’d done absolutely nothing wrong.

  “Get me out of here,” I added.

  My aunt frowned. “Gladly. You have a very poor attitude, Jane. I hope it improves while you’re away.”

  “You mean on my vacation?”

  “Yes,” she said through clenched teeth. “That’s what I mean.”

  “I’ll send you a postcard,” I grumbled.

  “As long as you don’t send one to Stephen,” my aunt snapped.

  Stephen! That was Gia’s creepy, pervy, yucky boyfriend.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I told her, then added: “But make sure he doesn’t send me one, because I don’t want to puke, and that’s what he does—makes me want to puke.”

  She slitted her eyes at me. “Then I guess you’ll be glad to be leaving.”

  “I am!”

  Well, okay, I wasn’t.

  I was terrified.

  CHAPTER 8

  I got dropped off in front of—well, my aunt was right about that. The house really was like a mansion.

  My aunt had already met the lady that was hiring me. Apparently she met the lady while I was at my dance lessons. Apparently the lady—Mrs. Gilly—had a nine-year-old daughter that took lessons at the same place as me, right after my class. The girl was named Tia and I’d be taking care of her as well—along with her twin brother, Tommy, who had jumped off their roof and broken both his legs. (Who does that?—jumps off a roof?) (Certainly not someone who would be compared to a boy in a coma.)

  So, since my aunt had already met the lady, she didn’t wait around to talk to Mrs. Gilly again. She just dropped me off at the mansion as she was late taking my cousin Ellie to her tennis lesson.

  “Oh my gosh! Look at that mansion!” Ellie had exclaimed when she saw where I was going to be staying. “It has horse stables and a pool—I want to stay here for the summer. It’s not fair.” She slumped back in her seat. “Why does Jane get to?”

  My aunt gritted her teeth, “Because she doesn’t get along with Gia.”

  “Well, neither do I,” Ellie pointed out. She flounced back in her seat. “Jane gets everything.”

  “Jane only gets to see her family at the cemetery,” my aunt reminded her.

  “Well, I wish that’s where I saw mine,” Ellie said with a teasing smile.

  I had already grabbed my bag and hopped out of the car. I wasn’t looking forward to staying with strangers—but I was very glad to be getting away from these people.

  CHAPTER 9

  Mrs. Gilly was a nice enough lady. I mean, for a rich lady. (Rich people make me nervous.) So do adults. So, you know, things went as well as could be expected.

  She showed me around the gigantic house a bit and introduced me to her two children that I would be watching for the summer—Tia and Tommy. They were on their way to chess club, so it was a quick introduction, with Tommy being wheeled about by their driver, and
him wishing me, “Good luck,” as he left.

  Then a third person—a boy—came racing down the stairs after them, announcing to his mom he was going to hitch a ride with the driver, “—to hockey practice,” the boy explained, as he raced down the stairs.

  Oh. My. Gosh!!! The boy was absolutely the most beautiful boy I had ever seen—ever. And he was around my age—probably older, but not toooo much older. Seeing him, my heart thumped as it had never done before in my (almost) fifteen years of life.

  The boy froze when he saw me standing at the bottom of the stairs. I was frozen too.

  “Hello,” he said. Clearing his throat, he said it again, “Hello.”

  I made a noise. It was supposed to be “hello” back, but it was just a noise—a strange one that made me turn red.

  The boy winked with a small but delighted smile, like he knew what I meant and why I was unable to actually speak, like he knew his beautiful eyes on me like that—so eager and hungry—had me breathless.

  Actually, he seemed breathless too—like my stare wasn’t exactly horrible either. In fact, he adored it.

  Mrs. Gilly rolled her eyes at her son’s wink. She said dryly, “You’d better hurry Romeo if you expect the driver to peddle you around.”

  “You mean the chauffer, chauffer me around,” he responded, his twinkling eyes still on me.

  His mother responded wryly, “Whichever the case, I’m not going to send him back to fetch you if he’s left.”

  “Okay, well.” The boy reluctantly dragged his eyes from me and hurried to the door, but after he pulled it open, he turned back to me.

  “’Bye,” he said.

  Then he was gone.

  And I was left with my heart pounding.