Chapter 17: Chapter 17

The days are getting longer, and daylight saving time will soon begin. No more old snow on the side of the road and waking up in the dark. We hang out after school a little longer each day by the deck, waiting for spring to hurry and show up. I find Beth by Arielle’s locker on the second floor after I receive her text. Beth has double-stick tape in her bag and a pile of condoms on the floor, including the ones from my locker.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m teaching you how to spell Bitch.”

It’s wicked, but I want to do it badly. I place tape on the back of the foil packets as Beth tapes them to Arielle’s locker. She even puts a fancy loop on the top of the capital B.

“Do you think maintenance will take it off?” I ask.

Beth shakes her head. “Did they ever peel it off your locker?”

I hand her another condom. And when she finishes, we take selfies in front of our handiwork.

“Don’t post these,” I warn her.

“Don’t worry. I’ve learned my lesson.”

We head out toward the parking deck and shout as a cold wind whips around our legs. We hurry to the door as Troy and Vicki enter the deck. Troy holds the door as we walk through, not that the deck is heated, but we’re out of the wind.

“Hi, Vicki,” I smile hard, but Vicki looks me up and down with a cool glance. “Did you enjoy your first day at Montlake?”

She snorts back a short laugh. “You sound like my counselor. Yes, Ms. Page, I had fun today, and they taught us not to run with scissors.”

“Victoria,” Troy’s voice is hard, as if he’s had more than enough of her snarky attitude. “Natalie’s being nice.”

Vicki shoots me a pouty look. “And I’m just teasing. She knows that.”

Actually, I didn’t, but I play it off. Maybe, I shouldn’t, but Troy looks like he’s had enough for one day without me sassing back. I smile, not because I think Vicki is funny, but Troy’s expression looks like my dad’s used to after a long car ride. It’s apparent that Arielle has been talking shit about me.

Troy walks faster while Beth walks alongside Vicki and asks her about her boots. I run to catch up with Troy, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Troy pauses for a split second; his blue eyes look startled, then appreciative. The wind blows his blond hair back as he smiles. He wraps his arm around my waist.

“Thanks, Nat,” he whispers. “It’s been a rough day.”

“Rough or ruffled?” I whisper.

“Man, I’m dreading school tomorrow.” He shakes his head. “I’ve never dreaded going to school before.” His gaze is serious with intent. “I am so sorry for what I did to you.”

He looks at me again, and I catch my breath. The expression in his eyes is so sincere, and though he’s apologized before, this time, I know he really means it.

Beth and Vicki chat as we skip the elevator and hike up the ramp. Sometimes, it’s quicker than waiting in line, especially when there’s a crowd. Bits and pieces of their conversation drift past my ears. And I hear a word or two—music, bands, and of course, clothes are discussed. But then I hear a change in tone, and a chill shoots down me.

“She warned me that you don’t like her,” Vicki says to Beth in a harsh tone. “But I’ve known Arielle since I was a kid. And I don’t take kindly to you talking shit about her. She may not have time to put you in your place, but I will.”

Vicki picks up speed toward Troy’s car, leaving Beth behind. I let Troy go and wait for Beth to catch up.

“What was that?” I ask.

“I tried to tell her that Arielle is tricky.” Beth talks to Troy. “But she’s not hearing it.”

Troy starts his car with his fob, and Vicki whips the passenger door open, hops in, and slams it shut. Safe inside, she turns up the music and shuts us out.

“I thought I was going to enjoy senior year,” Troy walks toward his car. “I better go before she drives off without me.”

“Wow,” says Beth. “Meet the woman that can tame Troy.”

“She gets it from her mother,” I reply as Troy pulls off.

Beth and I quick-hug before she heads for her car. I finish walking up another ramp as my legs ache, and I wish I had taken the elevator. But I perk up when I see Jacob’s Hummer parked beside my Audi. He’s leaning on his car and poking at his phone while he waits.

Jacob wraps his arms around me, and I cuddle next to his warmth. He feels so good as my body warms from his touch. I tilt my head, and as if on command, Jacob kisses me, pressing his soft lips against mine. I hold him tighter as if my body wants to be even closer. I only break away because my knees are trembling and I need air.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” I sigh.

He smiles. “I’m glad to see you too. So,” he says. “What did you learn?”

I smile. “Vicki’s been admitted as a freshman, and she’s already driving Troy crazy.”

“She wasn’t like that even a year ago.”

“I was thinking.” I don’t know how to say what I want to say, so I just launch into it. “Greg Saunders wants to offer me a job, and maybe, I can get something for you.”

Jacob averts his gaze and steps toward the low wall of the deck and looks at the campus. I stand beside him, afraid that I may have ruined more than just the moment between us.

“I just want to help.” My voice falters.

“Natalie,” Jacob gazes at me with soft eyes. “I appreciate you looking out for me. But I can’t work for another family, especially not the Saunders. I might as well apologize to my old man and work for him instead. I’m not stupid. I’ll figure something out.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you were.”

“I know.” He stares out into the distance over the muddy fields. “I’m in a rough place, but I’ll get through it.”

We stand in silence, looking down on the campus from the top floor of the deck. It’s a bird’s-eye view of our little world, a world that means too much to us. The art building is completely gone, replaced with a fenced-in pit. And the field houses are far off in the distance, almost as if they’re out of reach. Jacob stares at them, and I wonder what he’s thinking. The sun is about to go down, taking the last bit of remaining light with it, and our silent musing is disturbed by the sound of bickering below us. I can distinguish the shadows of two people as the gloomy figures approach the door leading into the deck.

Arielle’s voice is a screech that drowns out Lucas’ low and agitated hisses. It makes me tremble to see it. Not just because I hate to see Lucas in pain, but because I hate to see anyone so unhappy, even Arielle. Even if she deserves it.

“Do you think we’ll ever fight like that?” I whisper to Jacob, wondering if our talk could have taken an ugly turn.

“Never,” he replies as he wraps his arms around me.