Secret Life (RVHS Secrets) Page 2

  “I don’t think so.” Seriously, what was he thinking?

  “Rachel, I’m not kidding. I’m desperate and you’re the only one who can help me.” I waited for the Obi Wan reference as he stood there actually managing to look pitiful. “I’m screwed and I’m not sure what to do.”

  “If you think I’m the one to help you with this, you need to think again.” This was so, so not what I needed today. Of course, the list of so-not-needing was getting long and it wasn’t even fourth period. But, when it came to Amy, what I needed didn’t matter. What I needed to do for her did. “You treated her like crap. You almost ruined things with Luke. And now you expect—”

  “Wait.” He waved his hands in front of me. Politely, I did not smack them out of my face. “You think I want you to help me break Amy and Luke up?”

  “What else could you possibly want from me?” I looked at him again, really looked at him.

  He was the guy who’d been off limits since fifth grade when Amy moved to Ridge View and became the best friend a girl could have. She’d lost her mom to some disease that was too long to spell, and a few weeks later she’d lost her heart to Chris Kent over a kindness so small it broke my heart to watch. He’d ignored her as he turned into a god among soccer players. With fresh eyes, I studied him like a new outfit off the rack.

  It could have been his eyes. Or maybe it was his height, making a girl feel feminine but not tiny. My bet was more on the shoulders. That was one thing I liked about soccer players. The shoulders broad enough to be wide but not hulking. Or his lips. It could definitely have been his lips. They were full, but not too much. Not so much like I was jealous they weren’t mine. Or maybe it was the whole deal. He really was gorgeous. On the outside.

  There was no other possible reason he could want to talk to me besides a new get-Amy-back Plan.

  “I need you to tutor me.” A blush so pale it clashed with the yellow polo shirt stretched across those broad shoulders rushed up his neck and over his cheeks. “In History. I’m not doing so great.”

  I wondered how he was doing in English.

  “You want me to tutor you?” When in doubt, repeat. It’s a rule to live by. Boys can be dense and unclear.

  “Yeaaah.” He dragged the word out like he thought I had hearing comprehension issues. Plus, now he looked confused too. Yup, we were moving right along.

  “You can’t possibly be doing that badly. And I’m not exactly Einstein.” I knew what this was really about and I wanted him to just come out and say it.

  Chris’s hand rose and pushed through his short, blond curls, the flush tipping his ears now too.

  “Okay, here’s the deal. I’m not failing or anything. I have, like, a C-, but that isn’t going to get me into Monroe State. There’s no way I’m missing my chance to play there. It’s a good school. It has everything I want. But now that the plan…”

  I cocked an eyebrow. I used to practice this to use on my little sisters, but never was there a time so perfect for it as now. Oh, to reap the fruits of my labor.

  I jumped in before he could backpedal off the completely wrong thing to say.

  “Oh yeah. The Plan. That was the one where you used Amy to get in with Coach to get captains slot, while using Cheryl to get Homecoming King and all those Most Blah Blah Blahs in the yearbook? Right? That plan?” I took a step closer, jabbing a finger into his chest, which just happened to be almost at eye level for me. “And speaking of Amy. There is no way I’m letting you use this as an excuse to get to her.”

  He was shaking his head before I even finished talking.

  “It’s not. Actually, I’d rather she didn’t know. It’s kind of…embarrassing.”

  “That you’re not smart?” Harsh, I know.

  “Look.” I could hear the frustration straining his voice. “She’s the only person who always believed in me. Not just on the field. I know I screwed it up. I know she’s with Parker. Hell, in the end I practically handed her to him. But, I won’t give up the idea that one person, just that one really good person, believes in me…even if she doesn’t want to be with me. So, if you could stop being an overprotective bitch for, like, thirty seconds and consider helping me out, I’d appreciate it.”

  Wow. Aside from the bitch comment I got everything he said. Amy did that to a person.

  If not because of Amy…“So, why me?” Yeah, answer me that.

  Chris looked around again like a bad spy in a B-grade movie before answering. “Amy isn’t the only person I don’t want to know. If Coach finds out, he’ll totally support it, but might use me less at practices and on the field.”

  “And?” I ran a headcount through our class. “Stacia does better than I do in History. She’s carrying, like, a 98% average.”

  Did Chris Kent always blush this much?

  “Yeah, that’s not going to work for me.”

  “Why not?” I find it hard to believe he couldn’t charm her into tutoring him…and whatever.

  “We kind of hooked up.” It wasn’t the words that took me by surprise. It was the embarrassed tone. The way his gaze drifted away and down to the rug. The way that flush staining his cheeks wouldn’t go away.

  “You slept with her?” Why was I so surprised? If rumor had it right, every girl in the RV had slept with him. Probably me too, and I’d just somehow forgotten or something.

  “No. We didn’t get to the sex thing, but not for trying. And I really don’t want to go there.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to say Go where? Sex or history? But seeing as they had both, I thought I’d just mind my own business for a minute.

  “So, what are you looking to do here?” I asked trying to get us back from Super-Surreal Land to just plain Surreal Land. Plus, one of my prime weaknesses was nosiness. I always needed to know what was going on and why. Other people’s drama seemed to have a calming effect on me.

  Well, sometimes. I eyed him again wondering what exactly he was up to.

  Chris slipped his bag off his shoulders and threw it on the graffiti covered coffee table before dropping into the patched, overstuffed chair next to it. When he didn’t continue, I lowered myself across from him and leaned my arms on my knees, the standard I’ll-wait-for-you-to-finish pose.

  “I need to get all my grades up. I mean way up. There’s still time to hit fall semester transcripts. I need the grades and a winning season. Show’em I can do it all.”

  Fine, he wanted a tutor? He’d have to get interviewed for the privilege. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs, surprised when his gaze dropped there and jerked away before I could glare.

  Redirect. “Can you?” I asked. “Can you do it all?”

  His head dropped against the chair back and he crossed his ankle over his knee. I couldn’t believe he was actually taking the question seriously. Maybe he was serious. Stranger things have happened.

  Okay, no they haven’t.

  When he finally lifted his head to meet my gaze, I couldn’t help but lean forward until he said, “I don’t know.”

  Wow.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  He shrugged. Well, he shrugged as much as a guy lounging around trying not to look serious could. “I’ve never really tried in school. I mean I’ve had to carry my Cs for soccer, but nothing beyond that. I know that sometimes Cs are work and sometimes they’re a piece of cake. But I don’t know if I can get my grades up much higher.” There went that hand running through his hair again. “Like you said, I’m not exactly smart.”

  Dear Lord. How did I end up feeling like the ass in this conversation?

  “I meant—”

  “Don’t worry about it. You meant I’m not smart. Trust me. I know that. I’ve been told I’m only good for scoring goals my whole life. I’m not expecting you to get me into Harvard, just Monroe.”

  I was not going to feel bad for pretty-boy-soccer-god. He was still ahead in the game of life with Cs.

  “Is History the only thing you’re worried about?” Was
I seriously considering this? Plus, I couldn’t help myself. I really did want to know how deep the ditch he’d dug himself was. I had a hard time believing after all his previous planning he’d ended up here.

  As much as I was telling him he wasn’t bright, I knew he was smarter than that.

  His head dropped back again. “I think we can safely add about half my classes to that list.”

  “Who else are you talking to?” I ran through our other classes. We had Calc together and I think he had English a couple periods before me. I had no idea how he was doing in math, but Mrs. Lester the English teacher was tougher than overcooked chicken.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Lost. I have no idea how that word snuck into my mind, but I was sitting there looking at the guy all the boys wanted to be and all the girls wanted to do—I mean be with—and all I could think was how lost he looked.

  “I’m pretty good at English, too.” I honestly couldn’t believe those words were coming out of my mouth. I didn’t even want to spend enough time with him to do History.

  His head came up and there it was again. That lost look. But now it looked as if I’d thrown him a rope. I knew that feeling. I knew that rope. Ropes save lives.

  “Yeah?”

  Now it was my turn to try out that whole honesty thing. “But Calc is out of my league. I’m the definition of average.”

  For the first time he cracked a grin. “Actually, math is kind of easy for me. It’s just a big puzzle.”

  “Really?”

  I felt bad as soon as his grin slipped a little.

  “Yeah. You know.” He shrugged as if I hadn’t just called him stupid again. “It’s like soccer in a lot of ways. Logical. You just have to know how to read it.”

  I wasn’t going to bother asking how a ball bouncing all over a huge field was logical—I mean, he’d just compared it to math, so I probably wouldn’t have gotten it anyway.

  “Alright.” I couldn’t believe I was even considering what I was trying not to consider considering. But, if he wasn’t kidding about Calc being easy…“What about science?”

  “I’m in Mr. Stevens’s class. I’ve already arranged with my lab partner to help me out with that. You know, win-win situation and all.” He pushed himself forward to the edge of his seat and leaned over the table toward me. “Is math out of your league as in a B or are you struggling with it? You know, maybe I could help you out with Calc if you wanted, or something.”

  “Are you that good?” As soon as the words fell off my lips that cocky grin of his came back.

  Okay, now who felt stupid?

  But it also reminded me of just who I was dealing with.

  I shook my head. “This isn’t going to work.” I kept going, talking over him when he started to argue. “It’s not the math thing. It’s the Amy thing.”

  I reached for my bag and stood as I slung it over my shoulder, ready to make my escape. Amy was already watching me like a hawk. If she knew I’d agreed to this insane plan, she’d be watching me like a hawk with binoculars. Closer scrutiny and suddenly I’d have to explain a lot of things better left unsaid. Panic attacks, obscure diagnoses, therapy…my entire summer. You name it.

  “Plus, I don’t like you.”

  “You will.” He fell back in the chair again. “Girls like me.”

  I rolled my eyes and moved in for the verbal smack down, but then I noticed he wasn’t grinning. He wasn’t even looking cocky. He almost looked…resigned.

  And, I hated to admit I was still thinking about Calc. If there was a way I could get it back under control that would be one less stress factor going on.

  Chris rose and hefted his own bag. “Why don’t you give me a chance? You don’t have to like me. You just have to get me into college. The scout comes next week, but I need to deal with the school end too.”

  Which oddly sounded like the easier thing to do. Through twelve years of forced co-mingling in the public education system, I’d never seen Chris look this serious without a ball involved.

  His hand wrapped around my arm again, heating my skin through the new Anthropologie layered T-shirt I wore.

  “A week. Give me a week. Hate me. Don’t hate me. Doesn’t matter. You get me through History and English. I get you through Math. No one needs to know. It’s all good.”

  “No one needs to know?” Could we really pull that off? Honestly, I needed the help with Calc. And, for some odd reason, his resignation that girls liked him made me feel guiltier than all the other stuff. “Promise?”

  He nodded as the late bell sounded.

  “If no one will know—especially Amy—and you’re sure you can help me with the math stuff?”

  At the thought of Amy, my mind flipped again. Maybe it was the scene earlier. Maybe it was the lack of meds in my system. But, making a decision about something this big was epic. There was no way this could be a good idea. Not for her and not for me…probably not for Chris either, but who cares about Mr. I’m-Too-Sexy-For-My-History-Class.

  “You know…” How could I get out of this?

  “Don’t even think about it. You already said yes and I’ll pay you back with math help.” He headed toward the doors, ignoring my sputtering.

  Before I could take it all back and not add sneaking-around-tutoring-bff’s-evil-ex to the list of things I was already dealing with this fall, he glanced over his shoulder and winked. “And yes. I am that good.”

  Chapter 3

  Can you give me a ride home? The note slipped to me from behind, ending my Avoid Amy At All Costs Plan.

  Crap.

  You’re not going with Luke? I scribbled with my signature green gel-pen.

  I waited for Mrs. Lester to turn away and tossed it back to Amy. This would be so much easier if Amy’s phone didn’t beep as loud as a Mack truck’s horn.

  And she would get a freakin’ QWERTY keyboard.

  Scratch scratch scratch from behind me and then under my elbow.

  No. He and Ben are doing some guy thing before the game.

  Again with the crap. This was going to get sticky fast.

  Sure. Meet me at my locker?

  Wait and slide.

  Scratch scratch and over the shoulder.

  Cool. Thanks.

  She was going to ask. Of course she was going to ask. It was just a sign of how different we were that she hadn’t jumped me in the hall outside the library and demanded to know what Chris had wanted. I really didn’t want to lie to her about this. I needed to work that into the Chris Bargain some how. That if it came down to it, Amy was going to find out I was tutoring him.

  Then I’d have to deal with the fall out on my end and he’d deal with his ego. There were a few more periods until the end of the day. Maybe I could cough up a kidney or something fairly vital and be rushed to the hospital.

  Another note slid over my shoulder.

  Are you going to the game tonight?

  The game. I’d gone from being sick of Chris Kent to tutoring him and being amazingly sick of him, and I hadn’t even seen him in a few hours. But Amy hated sitting at the stats table by herself, the only girl besides the Rah-Rahs in front of the crowd. She felt very visible.

  Which of course she was, but Amy had this theory for years that she’d been pretty much invisible. Until Luke. Then she just decided that Luke had superpowers and could see invisible objects.

  I thought they were both nuts, but who was I to knock true love.

  Of course, I scribbled back. Want to ride there with me?

  I knew she’d let Luke drive her home, but she’d been really careful about girlfriend-time since they’d started dating. Especially after Jared dumped me.

  And, I don’t get dumped. Ever.

  Okay, I guess now I do.

  Absolutely. I’m not sure what we’re doing afterwards. Do you want to hang out?

  I love her to death. But, no. I did not want to hang out with Super Couple.

  As if you could say that straight to them.

  Maybe.<
br />
  Mrs. Lester glared at us and maybe was going to have to be the end of the discussion. Fine by me.

  We typically flew under the radar in the far back corner of the room. It was one of the few great things about having last names that started with W. In elementary school, there might never have been any dessert left by the time we got to the front of the lunch line, but we pretty much got away with anything else. No one looked at the back of the room.

  Well, until the giggling started. Then we were screwed.

  When the bell finally rang, Amy scooted around to my desk and waited while I packed up my stuff. “So, I’ll see you after seventh period?”

  “Absolutely.”

  And then she was gone, leaving me to wander to class on my own.

  I scooted across the back of the math room hoping to avoid Chris at all costs. I couldn’t believe I admitted to him I struggled with Calc. I wasn’t failing or anything. But a C was way lower than the rest of my grades and it was only getting harder. I felt like I was trying to build a skyscraper with tree house tools the further we got and it was really ticking me off.

  I knew what everyone thought of me. Different boyfriend every few weeks. Fun. Flirty.

  Flaky.

  But that wasn’t true and that C was killing me. It was also going to keep me off the Dean’s List. I was carrying three As and a B besides the Calc-C-of-Annoyance. I knew if I focused I could bring it up. Focus was the key to way too many things, and mine was spread pretty thin already. I wanted at least a B+ by the end of the semester, and tutoring Chris was not the distraction I needed.

  I must have been the stupid one in this scenario because I’m pretty sure there was nothing that blond ball-juggler could do to help me with my grades.

  Dropping into my desk-slash-seat-welded-together-thing and propping my feet on the bookrack below the chair in front of me, I pulled out my notes from the previous day and studied them like it was finals week. Mrs. Wolfson was famous school-wide for her pop quizzes.

  She was famous Rachel-wide for confiscating my Berrylicious lip gloss. I still think she just wanted to know what color it was.

  From the middle of the room, a high-pitched giggle stretched over the conversations. Don’t ask me why I looked. I knew what I’d see. But the odd thing was, it wasn’t what I expected.