Читать книгу Send Pics - Lauren McLaughlin - Страница 12

I should probably confess that I’ve had a crush on Suze Tilman ever since she moved here. And it’s not because she’s beautiful. It’s because she’s different. She seems to come from a separate universe. Not Munich, some place even farther away.

I feel like I come from a separate universe, too. And I’m pretty sure my fellow students would agree. They think I’m strange, shy, introverted, off-kilter. They have a hundred different ways of describing what they don’t understand. And I don’t care. They leave me alone, and I leave them alone. That arrangement works fine. But I’ve always hoped that at some point Suze’s universe and my universe would collide.

Unfortunately, according to Marcus, Suze is with Tarkin Shaw now. At least that’s the gossip at school. She got drunk at Tara Budzynski’s party and threw herself at him. I don’t listen to gossip, but Marcus does. In this case he’s hoping to pick up something “newsworthy” from Tara’s party, like a drug angle or some arrests. But all anyone wants to talk about is how Tarkin Shaw finally “landed” Suze Tilman, like this was inevitable, like this puts their social universe in order. King of the Jocks with Coolest Girl in School. They don’t see. Everyone thinks Tarkin and Suze belong together because they’re both good-looking. But Suze’s beauty is different from his. Hers comes from within. It’s a glow that emanates outward, like a spell. Tarkin looks like he spends hours in front of a mirror, swapping out Hollister shirts and gelling his blond-tipped hair just so. He’s always flexing to accentuate his pecs and he’s definitely on steroids. You don’t bulge like that from doing normal human activities. I should know. I’m pretty strong myself and I don’t look anything like that.

Even Marcus doesn’t get it. In third period English, he shows me an article he’s written with the headline: “Cool New Girl Gets Drunk at Kegger, Throws Self at Jock.” It’s a joke between him and one of his colleagues at the Bugle, because they’re always complaining about how nothing newsworthy happens in Jonesville. But I don’t find that joke particularly funny.

Also, I don’t believe the rumors. After English class, I spot Suze walking alone through the hallway. She looks better than she did in that photograph, which means at least she wasn’t hurt at Tara’s party. But she doesn’t look like her normal self. Usually she breezes through the halls with this luminous smile like she’s just seen something interesting and she can’t wait to share it with her friends. Now she walks with her head down and she keeps pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her hands.

I follow her around a corner from a safe distance and there’s Shaw, hanging with his wrestler buddies by the water fountain. When he spots Suze, he peels away and swaggers over with that cocksure pose, like he’s the center of the universe, like no matter who else is around, he’s the most interesting and important. Suze smiles at him, but it’s not her usual smile. It’s lifeless and fake, full of teeth. Not that Shaw notices. He’s still looking at his buddies. And his buddies are impressed, which I guess is the point. Everything for him is a performance. It kind of makes me sick. The guy has his arm around Suze Tilman and he can’t see her at all.

When they head off down the hall together, I decide to keep following them. I don’t have a plan. I just know that something seems off here. I stay at a distance, making sure there are at least three other kids between us, because the last thing I want is to make a scene.

When they get to Mrs. Naylor’s classroom, Shaw grabs Suze’s face and plasters his mouth over hers like he wants to swallow her whole. She kisses him back, sort of, but only with her mouth. Her body angles away like it’s trying to escape, like if she could detach her head from her body, she would. When he finally unsticks his mouth from hers, she giggles weakly then walks away, tugging at her sleeves again. I guess you could mistake that for nervous flirtation—a lot of girls giggle nervously around Tarkin Shaw—but you’d have to work pretty hard to see it that way. To me, she looks traumatized, like she’s disgusted by what just happened and she’s already trying to erase the memory.

It fools Shaw, though. He eyes her body up and down like he’s sizing up his next meal. Total predator. When he heads into the classroom, I make a quick decision and run after Suze. Once I’m right behind her I realize that I have no idea what to say. I’ve never spoken to her before and I would not describe myself as skilled in the art of conversation, because I don’t do small talk. I mean I can talk up a storm with Marcus, but that’s different. He doesn’t do small talk either. I wonder if Suze does. While I’m thinking about all of this, and making myself more nervous by the second, Suze stops suddenly to look into her backpack and I crash into her.

Our eyes lock. I open my mouth to say something. Hello, my name is DeShawn Hill and I’m here to help in any way I can, is what I’m thinking, but what I’m saying is nothing. Absolutely nothing. Less than nothing. My mouth is open but only air is coming out. Plus, I’m not one hundred percent positive of my own name.

She’s even more amazing up close. Her eyes are dark brown like mine and there’s a small gap between her two front teeth.

“I’m DeShawn Hill,” I manage to squeak out eventually. I have no idea how much time has passed.

“Wh . . . What do you want?” she stutters.

“Are you . . um . . . I know this is going to sound strange, but are you and Tarkin Shaw, like . . .” I can’t even bring myself to say the words.

“Are we what? Are we dating? Is that what you want to know?”

“Um . . .”

I want to know a lot more than that actually. I want to know what she thinks about right before she falls asleep. I want to know why that incandescent smile has disappeared. But my brain has seized up on me and I can’t get the words out.

“Yes,” she says. “We are. Why?”

“It’s just . . .”

“It’s just what?”

“You don’t seem . . .”

“We don’t seem what?”

“You don’t seem like you’re really into him.”

“Fuck,” she says. “Really?” Her attention is drawn to something behind me. “Yes,” she says quickly. “Everything’s fine. He’s my boyfriend, okay? Don’t talk to me.” She turns away and rushes off.

Behind me, I spot Shaw standing in the doorway to Mrs. Naylor’s classroom, glowering. Flexing and glowering.

AT LUNCH THAT day, I rush to my usual table by the window. Marcus is already there chomping down a turkey sandwich while scribbling into his reporter’s notebook. He never goes anywhere without that thing. I tell him about my encounter with Suze in the hallway, but he shrugs it off.

“No drugs, no violence, no broken laws. No story.”

He’s so full of shit sometimes and this Anderson Cooper routine annoys me.

“No story, huh?” I say. Then I point out that Suze isn’t sitting at her usual table with Nikki Petronzio and her other friends. In fact, she doesn’t appear to be at lunch at all.

“Hold on,” Marcus says, turning to a new page in his notebook. “Girl Skips Lunch. That’s a solid lead, buddy. Thanks.”

“I’m serious, Marcus. Something is up with her and Shaw.”

“It’s called dating.”

“So why isn’t she sitting with him?”

Marcus looks over at Shaw and the wrestlers all the way on the other side of the cafeteria, stuffing giant mouthfuls of chili down their throats.

“Maybe she’s on a diet?”

“Look at Nikki Petronzio,” I say.

Marcus twists around to have a look.

“She looks upset, right?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Word on the street is that Nikki and her friends do not approve of this romance.”

“You heard that?”

“I’m a reporter, DeShawn. It’s my job to hear things.”

“Why don’t they approve?”

“I guess they have higher standards. Plus, I think Nikki has some kind of history with Shaw. I don’t know the details. It happened their freshman year. We were still in middle school.”

“That guy has a history with a lot of girls.”

Marcus glares at me then shoves more of his turkey sandwich into his mouth. Tarkin Shaw is a sore spot with him. Ever since the Amber Laynes incident. Marcus was working on the story for the Bugle. He had Amber locked down for an on-the-record interview. It was going to be his biggest story yet. But then Amber recanted, leaving Marcus with nothing. He took it personally.

“I think you should investigate,” I tell him.

“Amber’s history. She lied to the police. Plus, she lives in California now.”

“Not Amber. Suze.”

Marcus finishes his mouthful then carefully puts his sandwich down so he can look me in the eye. “DeShawn, is this your way of circling around to the fact that you have a gigantic crush on Suze Tilman? Because, buddy, I’m well aware of it. And I get it. I do. She’s infinitely crush-worthy. And she’d be lucky to have you.”

“This isn’t about that.”

“Good, because I think it’s safe to say she’s into jockstraps.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Marcus. She’s not into him. In fact, I think she can’t stand him.”

“How would you even know that?”

“It’s hard to explain. It’s like her words were saying one thing, but her eyes were saying something else.”

“Wait. You talked to her?”

“Sort of. Yes. I did actually. I talked to her.”

“Well, what were her words saying?”

“Don’t talk to me.”

“And what were her eyes saying?”

“Help.”