Chapter Five
Jared
I can safely say Juliet Valentine is not the sweet girl I knew before Mark happened to her. It’s like she hates all guys now for what he did. I’ve got no idea what in the world I could have possibly done to her to have her unleash all her hatred on me. Thank God there aren’t sharp tools around us because I’m pretty sure she would have murdered me.
She’s seething across from me, and all I wish now is for the bell to ring so I can bolt from this nightmare. What’s completely messed up? I thought she was finally starting to notice me during winter break. Not this bite my head off shit.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe Juliet will never like me in that way because she really doesn’t like me as a person.
I’m afraid to look at her even though I can feel her laser-glare on me. When the bell chimes, I dash out of the room as if my dad blew his whistle and screamed at me to run.
“Whoa man,” Tyler says as I knock into him. “No need to tackle me in the halls, bro. Running from your Dad again?”
“Not really. More like Juliet. Does she look like she wants to kill me?”
“Um, kill you?” He looks back, laughs, and turns to me. “What did you do, break one of her wands?”
“What? No. We um … May have gotten a C on our assignment.” I consider cutting my second-period class, which Juliet is also in. I don’t think I can handle her death stare for another ninety minutes.
Tyler laughs harder. “Come on, seriously. What was it? Because you haven’t gotten a C since hell, I don’t know, ever.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, well; today we did. She acts like I’m the one who poured the chemicals and caused a foaming mess.” I am about to say more but a backpack smacks against my side. I spot her zipping past me. “Great.”
Tyler pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry, man. You’ll figure out a way to fix it.”
Or make it worse.
I have every stinkin’ class with Juliet. Normally, this would thrill me, but I’m not exactly enjoying her glare in my direction in every single class.
After the day from hell basically kicked my ass, the only thing I want to do is get into my truck and drive. That’s not going to happen though because I have to do drills when I get home. Which better be in the next twenty minutes or my dad will make hell seem like a jolly place.As I make my way to my truck, I hear, “Jared! Jared, wait a second,” Rachel says.
Part of me wants to pretend I don’t hear her, but she’s persistent; I will give her that. Taking a deep breath, I turn toward her. She beams at me, and I fake a smile. “I’ve got a quick question for you,” she says in a super giddy tone.
I sigh. “I’ve got to get going, Rachel.”
“What sounds better chocolates or candies?”
I shrug. “Do I have to choose?”
She laughs and tries to shove me. “Yes, silly, we’re having a meeting on it today.”
I shake my head. “Either is good. I gotta go.” I turn back to my truck, but she keeps babbling.
“That’s not really a good answer. Do you need samples to better inform your decision?”
I’m about to say something but Adaline Frost beats me to it. “Rachel, they’re both food,” she says.
I smile at Addy as she strolls by with Juliet and Chase. Chase has his arm slung around Juliet’s shoulder again, and it really bothers me. Even if I could possibly get Juliet to stop hating me, it won’t do any good if she’s seeing him. Not that Chase is a jackass but dammit I want to be the one with my arm around her.
My jaw tightens as I yank the handle of my truck. “Well, I’ll catch you later then,” Rachel says then heads toward the backend of the parking lot.
I slide into the seat, close my door, and grip the steering wheel imagining it’s Mark’s neck. This is his doing. She used to smile and talk to me. Then that mother-effer had to mess it up. I slam my palm against the wheel and growl.
Something hits the driver’s side window jerking me from my dark thoughts. I look over and Tyler shouts, “Roll down your window.”
I do. Juliet’s twin is beside Tyler holding his hand with her head tilted toward his chest. “Is she dating Chase?” I blurt out.
Layla gives me a puzzled look and Tyler shakes his head. “Nah man.”
“Who are you talking about?” Layla asks.
“Juliet,” I say.
Layla burst with laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, my temper rising.
“She’s not dating anyone,” Layla says. “And if she were, it wouldn’t be Chase.”
“Why’s he got his arm around her all the time then?” I snap.
Tyler makes a noise. “Whoa, bro. Chill. Chase isn’t into her. Trust me on this.”
I scowl. His words are not making my mood any better. I’m not entirely confident that Layla or Tyler know if Chase and Juliet are really dating or not. “Whatever. I gotta get going.”
“All right. Layla here, was wondering if you could help decorate the halls?”
I shrug. “I don’t know if I can, man.” Layla frowns slightly. “Sorry, Layla. I’ve got to get home for drills. My dad has me on a tight schedule this week.” More like my whole life. Heaven forbid if my brother or I break his precious schedule.
“No problem. Want me to come over and do some drills with you?” Tyler offers.
I shake my head. “Nah. Thanks though. My dad has been on a total power trip lately.” It’s bad enough I had to spend most of my winter break watching hours of game footage tape. I also had quizzes on the shit.
Only Tyler knows I have no desire to play football in college.
“If you can, we will start at five. Juliet will be here decorating,” Layla says.
This answer should be easy. With Juliet’s resounding hate toward me and the greater possibility of being stuck with Rachel at my side the entire time, I cringe at the thought. I rub the knot forming at the back of my neck. “I’ll see. I’ll text you when I’m done,” I say to Tyler.
“Opportunities like this one only come every so often. Take advantage while you can,” Tyler says as he slaps the hood of my truck and waggles his brows. He’s my best friend but what a dick for using my dad’s favorite phrase on me. Even if it is exactly what I need to hear.
“Pick up the pace!” My dad yells from across the yard.
I’m panting and ready to pass out, but it doesn’t matter. Pro football players push through the pain. NFL players don’t whine, they do what needs to be done. This is all the shit my dad repeats to me day in and out. He had his shot at playing professionally but he sustained a permanent knee injury that ended his career.
That didn’t stop him from pushing me and my brother to continue his dream.
I hurry to the end of the obstacle course, but my dad’s scowl lets me know I messed up. And he’s going to let me know how bad.
“Where the hell is your head at? Because from that shitty run, it’s obviously not here.”
I drop my gaze to the ground. “Sorry, sir.”
“Sorry doesn’t get you top school picks for your future. Sorry doesn’t cut it during the draft. Sorry isn’t going to work at a professional level. Get your head out of the clouds or would you like me to sign you up for ribbon dancing at the local Y?”
See. He’s total d-bag. I can’t freaking stand him. “It won’t happen again, sir.” Inside I’m screaming, “I hate this! Why can’t you just let us be?”
“Better not.” He shoves a ball into my chest. “Again!” He blows a whistle, and I run the course.
My younger brother Justin is off to the side watching in silence. We’re not allowed to cheer each other on. We’re not allowed to tell the other good job. Dad doesn’t want us commending the other when there is always need for improvement. He’s not raising a bunch of pansies who need gratification when we’re doing something good. His words, not ours.
I rip through the padded posts; the ball is still in my clutches. Next is the tires. I hate tires. My size fourteen shoe gets caught on the lip of the rubber and I almost trip. I right myself before I slam to the ground. My dad does care because he screams, “Move-move-move!”
Rushing through the next set of the course I finally reach him, and he clicks the stop clock. “That was worse. You don’t want it enough. Go inside. I’m sick of looking at a quitter.”
I hand the ball off to my brother who looks just as miserable as I feel. I shouldn’t care about the stupid drills or the fact I screwed up numerously. For some reason though, I do. I think the fact my dad labeled me a quitter has me messed up. There have only been three times I’ve ticked my dad off enough that he sent me to the house without finishing daily drills. All those times I’ve been sick with the flu. I’m not coming down with something, at least I don’t think I am.
As I step inside the kitchen, my mom looks over at me with a smile. “How did it go out there?”If I were my brother, I’d ignore her and head directly to my room because that’s what he always does when she asks about our drills. “Not good.”
“You know he loves you and your brother. He just wants you to expand on your gifts because he knows if you do you’ll go far,” she says. I love my mom, but wow is she blind. My dad only cares about one thing: getting his sons into professional football. He’ll disown me and Justin the moment we stop playing football. Dinner will be ready in an hour.”
I take off my practice shoes and place them in the cubby. “I got to get to the school. I told Tyler I’d help him decorate the hallways for the Junior Elites.” It’s kind of a lie but it doesn’t matter. I need to get out of this house before the asshole comes inside and gives me another speech about how I should be grateful … blah blab blah.
“Okay honey. Make sure you’re back by seven.”
I nod. “Yep.”
“Hey man,” Tyler says as he clamps his hand into mine and pulls me against his chest quickly. We slap backs then release.
“Where or should I say, what are we decorating?”
He points at the hallway. “All the lockers.” He picks up a box filled with cut out hearts.
“Dude. I’m not putting that shit on my locker.”
Tyler gives me side-eye. “Bro, I’m with you, but it’s what the girls are doing. Just stick it there for a day and then rip it off.”
Shouts suddenly fill the halls and I turn to the commotion. “Stop it, Layla! I don’t care! Just drop it.”
“Juliet, you do care. And believe it or not, I can’t sit here and watch you mope.”
Juliet jerks her arm free from her sister. “I’m not moping. You’re smothering me with all your mothering. I can handle myself.” She drops her gaze to the box by Layla and sneers. “Let’s put these dumb decorations up before I change my mind about being here.”
Rachel appears in the hall. Shit. “Oh, Juliet. Are you still on your rant about how this is a stupid made-up holiday?”
Juliet looks at Rachel and then walks over to the boxes of hearts near Tyler and I. “Hey, shorty,” I say.
She stamps her foot on mine and I yell, “Oww; what the heck?”
“How many times must I tell you not to call me that?” she snaps.
I can’t help but burst out laughing. Juliet snatches up a box near me and Tyler says, “Brace yourself.”
I don’t pay attention to his warning. I’m still staring at Juliet. Suddenly she’s pushed aside as arms lock around my neck and a squeal of my name rings through my skull. Rachel presses herself to me and I try detangling her from me.
Juliet sees it all. She snorts. As if to say she thinks I’m disgusting or something. I glance over at Tyler for help. He’s obviously occupied with Layla, so I’m officially screwed.
Rachel pokes my chest. “Ready to decorate these halls?”
“Uh.” She picks up a box filled with crap and shoves it in my hands.
Before I can object, she tugs me down the hall. I should breakaway, hoping to become partners with Juliet. Until I peer over at her. I’m greeted with a clenched jaw and a glare that could burn me alive. The look is really no joking matter. I’m six feet five inches tall and can bench four-hundred pounds easily, but this girl makes me feel like a little kid. There is also the matter that Juliet also has scissors, tape, a box full of hearts and possibly looking for vengeance on the whole Lab debacle today. Maybe I should take my chances with Rachel. At least I know she won’t stab me.
I let Rachel guide me down the hall. We aren’t far enough from Juliet for me to miss her snarky comment. “Figures.”
I stop and face Juliet. “What was that?” I ask.
Juliet stands with her box and starts to march toward Rachel and me. “Don’t play stupid, Black. Is your dad getting you extra credit to lift your grades? Why else would you even be here? You’ve never helped before.”
I remove myself from Rachel’s clutches, drop our box, and tower over Juliet. Nothing sets me off more than someone assuming I’m really a dumbass and that my dad somehow influences the grades I get. I earn my freaking A’s. I work my ass off. She along with every other person who thinks otherwise can kiss my freaking ass!
“I have news for you shorty, my dad doesn’t have shit to do with my grades.”
“Sure, he doesn’t,” she fires back. “I’m on to you.”
Rachel jerks my arm. “Come on, Jare. She’s not even worth it. She’s a freaking all-time weirdo.”
“I might be weird but at least I’m disease free. Can you say the same about yourself?” Juliet smirks then she walks down the hallway toward the opposite end.
Rachel shouts at her. “Ooooh. Was that supposed to be an insult? Don’t be jealous people actually want me and not a stupid lesson in how to ride a broom or whatever it is you do for fun.”
I have a feeling I should have stayed home and dealt with the possible ass chewing from my dad than came here for this.
“Let’s get this done. I have to be out of here before seven,” I say to Rachel.
“Awww such a party pooper.” Rachel smiles. “Bet we can find a way to change that.”
Yep. I’m definitely going to regret this.