Chapter 5

Jake looked at me like I had suddenly sprouted another head. “What?”

I didn’t say anything because of the thick, hard lump that had formed in my throat. I continued to hold the paper out to him, willing my hand to stop shaking. He didn’t take it.

“Are you serious?” He sounded gobsmacked. I was sure that in his entire life no girl had ever told him no. Jake gave me an assessing look, like he was trying to figure me out. He suddenly smiled. He had apparently decided to go back to what had been working for him earlier, and switched gears from disbelief to teasing. “You’re my girlfriend’s sister. Isn’t it like the law or something that you have to cover for me?”

Wrong move. Bringing up Ella made me less likely to help him, not more. But none of this was about Ella. It was about me and what I would think of myself when I looked in a mirror.

I dropped the paper on his desk as my reply. He stood there staring at it, and then shifted his dark eyes back to me. I held in a gasp. He looked furious.

“What’s your problem, Matilda?” He made my name sound ugly and twisted.

Just a few seconds ago I’d been like a timid bunny, too scared to stand up for myself, too afraid of disappointing him. But that one word, my name, said in such a hateful way, was all it took for me to get my self-respect back.

“Don’t call me that,” I hissed between clenched teeth, and I stood up to face him. He had a few inches on me, but it was better than sitting down while he towered over me. “You’ve barely spoken two words to me since we were nine, and suddenly I’m supposed to lie for you?”

He let out a short bark of cruel laughter. “What, are you like keeping track or something?”

I was. I was keeping track. “No.”

Before today, the most he’d said to me had been four words in third grade. I was on the swings, and he kicked a ball that hit me in the face. It knocked me off the swing and square on my back. I vividly remembered how I couldn’t quite breathe, like all the air had been sucked out of my lungs. He immediately came over and said, “Jeez, are you okay?” (I realize that I am probably being generous in counting jeez as a word, but since I count the uh from the Bathroom Incident, I’ve decided to allow it.)

He had helped me to my feet and brushed the dirt off me. He’d patted me on the shoulder, given me a Jake smile, which he had perfected even in the third grade, and gone back to playing.

I’m pretty sure the wind wasn’t the only thing knocked out of me that day. I seemed to have lost all my common sense and ability to control my heart where Jake was concerned. That was way back before he got absorbed into the popular kids’ hive, where everyone thought, acted, talked, and dressed the same.

Back before he thought he could use people and get away with it.

“Do you think you’re the only one who wants to get out of detention?” I asked him, my voice shaking again. But this time it wasn’t from nervousness, it was from anger.

“Oh yeah, what do you have going on that’s so important you have to leave? Some busy study date with your little Goth friend?”

Now was not the time to mention that yes, in fact, Trent and I did have plans to hang out later on.

“At least I have an actual friend that’s not a complete waste of space.”

This was what I had been reduced to? The neener-neener school of argument?

Another angry look flashed across his perfect face. A detached analytical piece of me realized that probably no girl had ever treated him this way. He didn’t seem to be enjoying the novelty of it.

Then my emotional side threatened to take over. What are you doing? she hysterically sobbed. What is wrong with you? This is Jake Kingston! You are so blowing it!

But I shook off those feelings, in part because I’d never seen Jake act this way. I’d imagined he would only use his powers of charm for good, not for evil. And that made me angry. It got my dander up, as my dad would say.

His face settled with a look of indifference. “Whatever.” He turned to walk away. I heard him mumble something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “Goody Two-Shoes.”

I didn’t like being dismissed so easily. He didn’t know me or why I’d made the decision I had. “You know, you signed the same honor code that I did.”

I didn’t know why I said that. We had to sign an honor code every year, and I didn’t even read through it. After I signed it, I didn’t ever give it a second thought. Which meant I shouldn’t have brought it up.

“The honor code? Really?” He let out a short bark of laughter. “You suddenly have some hidden allegiance to this school? Got some secret school pride I don’t know about? You just drift through here without belonging or caring.”

That stung. I didn’t know it was possible to feel that much hurt and anger all at the same time.

“Whatever,” I echoed at him. “Why don’t you just go back to ignoring my existence? You never noticed me before, and you don’t have any reason to acknowledge me now.”

Jake took two steps forward, close enough to kiss me. “Oh, please. You so obviously want to be noticed. If you didn’t, you’d be like every other girl in this school and blend in. You do your hair like that and dress the way you do because you want to stand out. You are dying for me to notice you.”

It was like being hit out of the swing all over again, lying flat on my back trying to catch my breath.

He stood there for a moment, staring at me with that angry intensity. I could feel his warm breath on my face and decided I was seriously demented because I couldn’t decide what I wanted more in that moment—to slap him or kiss him. Then he stalked off to the desk farthest away from me. He pulled out his phone and began furiously texting.

I sank slowly into my seat. I was pretty sure Jake had been speaking rhetorically, but it pierced me all the same. I did want Jake to notice me.

Just not like this.

* * *

Jake did as I asked and proceeded to ignore me for the rest of detention. As soon as it ended, he practically jumped out of his seat. He logged out on the laptop without even looking in my direction and left. I sat there for a while and finally forced myself to get up.

I didn’t call anyone for a ride. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it through the call without crying.

I wasn’t exactly the crying type, and I didn’t want any questions or awkward conversations. Walking home felt like slogging through knee-high mud. All physical activity—walking, holding my bag, breathing—seemed slower and harder than usual.

I told myself I wouldn’t think about him. So, obviously, I thought about him the whole way home.

When I finally got to my house, I did have a moment when I worried about what my dad would say. The school would have called him to let him know that I had detention. But he’s one of those clueless, daydreaming, in-their-own-little-world artists. Like the type that had just sat down to eat dinner when his eyes glazed over. Without taking a single bite, he’d get up from the table and be back in his studio all night. He was a good dad, but he was easily distracted.

I could see that he was in his studio, so I knew I had nothing to worry about. I wouldn’t be getting in trouble. Although it might be nice to get yelled at and/or lectured just so I could blame my tears on my dad’s attempt at discipline.

My dad’s studio faced the beach on the east side of the house. The bedrooms were on the opposite side. I didn’t even have to walk past him. He wouldn’t know that I had come home or that I was late. I watched him paint for a minute and then went through our living room, which had floor-to-ceiling windows that skirted the outdoor infinity pool. I nudged my bedroom door open, dropped my bag on the floor, and then collapsed on my bed.

Stepmom Number Six had been an interior decorator and had done my entire room in shades of puke pink with white, girly furniture. Then she’d apparently liked it so much she’d decorated Ella’s in exactly the same colors. My dad had given her what he called “carte blanche,” which meant she could do whatever she wanted and he wouldn’t let me change it no matter how much I whined and complained because it would “hurt her feelings.” The same feelings that, I might add, he didn’t much mind hurting when he’d divorced her four months later.

Next to my closet I had attempted to put up some of that chalkboard paint, but it was way too much work, and I was way too lazy to finish. Instead I just covered every square inch with posters and cutouts from magazines, divided by category. I put my manga on the left wall, hot guys on the right, and my framed retro eighties movie posters behind my bed. They were mostly for John Hughes films.

Ella had left her room alone, so it still looked like a Pepto-Bismol bottle had gone nuclear in there. She’d only added a whiteboard to keep track of her schedule and to write down inspirational sayings.

I had once wondered whether she’d left it that way in case Stepmom Number Six ever returned. I tried to explain to her that they never came back. She didn’t listen. I think she still hoped for some kind of stable maternal figure in our lives before we graduated, that we’d get some woman in here who cared about us. But none of the ex-wives ever liked me. They all pretended to at first, but they didn’t really.

To give them some credit, even though they didn’t like me, they were never mean to me. Just indifferent. Like Jake used to be toward me before today.

I sighed. I’d been trying hard to think of something, anything, besides him. I wanted to understand why he had been so angry. How could something so small and stupid set him off like that? Why had he reacted that way to me?

I sat and thought about our interaction, and one of the things I hated most was that he tried to use me. That he’d thought he just had to talk sweetly to me and I’d be putty in his hands. That I actually was putty in his hands was beside the point. I felt dirty. I didn’t like it.

Then his words about how I secretly wanted to be noticed burned through me. It felt like he had cracked my brain open and looked inside for a while. I mean, who expects that kind of depth and understanding from a football player?

If I was being honest with myself, I had to admit that I didn’t know what bothered me more—that he had been so mean to me or that he had been right.

And the cherry on top of all the hurt and confusion was the fact that I loved him, and he’d treated me like dirt under his feet.

I clamped my eyelids shut. I would not cry. I would not.

So of course I cried. Hot, angry tears escaped from my eyes, running down the sides of my face. I threw an arm over my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the tears. Just like I couldn’t stop the sobbing sound that tore out of my chest.

I was crying over a boy. I was a total and complete cliché.

Then the worst possible thing happened—I heard a soft knock at my door that could only belong to Ella.

Why had I left my door open? I turned over on my side so that she faced my back. I held my breath, telling myself I absolutely could not cry in front of Ella.

I opened my mouth to tell her to go away, but another sob threatened to erupt, so I stayed silent, willing myself to be calm.

“I got this new eye shadow today that would go so well with your . . .”

“No.” I cut her off. I could manage one syllable.

“Come on, Tilly, let me just . . .”

“No.”

Ella had had so much fun with her own makeover that it had become her goal in life to make me over too. I kept telling her no, but she kept trying.

I hoped she would just go away, but she must have heard something in my voice because she came into my room, something she rarely did.

“Tilly? Are you okay?” Her voice sounded timid, and she tentatively sat on the bed. She probably expected me to snap at her.

She put a hand on my upper arm and tried to turn me over. I resisted.

“Are you crying?” She sounded shocked as she peered over my shoulder. “I’ve never seen you cry.”

I didn’t respond, squeezing my eyelids together. I was finished crying. I decided there would be no more tears for Jake Kingston.

“Do you want me to get your dad?”

For a second I actually wanted to laugh. “No.” I started wiping old tears away with the backs of my hands. He would be totally useless. He’d say there were plenty of other fish in the sea, or time heals all wounds, or any of those other meaningless things parents say when they have no idea how to help you.

“Then tell me. What happened?”

A short bark of laughter came out. “I can’t tell you. You’re like the one person I can’t tell.”

“I’m your sister. You can tell me anything.”

Stepsister, I mentally corrected her. “Not this.”

“Tilly.” Ella sounded determined. “Look at me.” This time her hand wasn’t gentle, and she forced me to turn over. “Tell me.”

Suddenly I wanted to tell her. It probably wasn’t fair to burden her with it, to let her know how I’d betrayed her, but I so wanted to tell someone what I felt, all the things I’d been dealing with on my own. I’d never told a single soul, and I thought that maybe if I told Ella, it might not be so hard to cope with.

I explained how I had had detention, and gave her all the gory details of how Jake came in and what he’d said and what I’d said.

“Wow.” Ella sat thoughtfully for a moment. “He was out of line, but I don’t understand why it would make you this upset. It sounds like you held your own.”

The moment had come. The one I’d been avoiding for so very long. I’d never thought I would have to tell Ella how I felt about Jake. I quickly sat straight up and looked down at my hands.

This was it.

I was going to just say it.

It couldn’t be that hard, right?

Finally, I let out a long breath. “I was so upset because . . . because . . . I’minlovewithJakeKingston.” The words came out as fast as I could force them out.

Ella blinked several times. Then she said, “What?” Only she managed to take that one word and stretch it out to like six syllables.

I nodded to let her know she’d heard me right. It had been easier than I’d thought. And it helped that her hands weren’t wrapped around my neck choking the life out of me, which is most likely what mine would have been doing had our situations been reversed.

“You’re in love with Jake?” she clarified. I nodded again. “For how long?”

“Since I was nine.”

She looked thoughtful. “And you’ve never been interested in any other guy?”

“I’ve never even kissed . . .” Suddenly realizing what I was admitting to, I looked down and could feel my cheeks turning hotter. “I mean, Spin the Bottle, yes, but not for real.” I risked glancing at her face. She seemed stunned.

“How could I with a mouth full of metal?” I said in my defense. That made Ella smile. I had certainly needed those braces. My dad once said that we have the Austin Powers gene when it comes to teeth, which I didn’t get and had to go to YouTube to understand. “But now that those suckers are off, I make no promises about retaining the virtue of my lips.”

Ella giggled, and the awkward moment was over. Until she said, “I can’t believe that you and Trent have never kissed.”

“Me and Trent? Seriously? Ugh. It would be like kissing a brother.” I mean, I could sort of see the appeal. I knew there had been girls who liked him, but he never seemed to notice anyone in return. It was sort of what made us friends. We both hated everyone.

We sat in silence for a little while. I started to sniff, and Ella got up to grab me some tissues. She handed me the box and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jake mad about anything before.”

“Apparently, I’m the only one who gets to see that delightful side of him.”

She watched me with a weird expression on her face. “No, it just reminds me of that saying about there being a fine line between love and hate.”

I couldn’t help it. I snorted. She was so very delusional. It was just like Ella to take a bad situation and try to spin it into a fairy tale.

“It makes sense. Boys like girls like me in high school. They like girls like you once they grow up. The good ones do, anyway.”

I didn’t feel like again explaining to Ella about how the real world works for those of us who don’t look like supermodels. Prince Charmings are only interested in Cinderellas.

“This must have been really hard on you.” She gave me a little hug and then said, “So now all I have to do is break up with him.”

Of all the responses I’d imagined Ella having to my confession, I can honestly say that was the only one I hadn’t ever considered.

Now it was my turn to say, “What?” in disbelief.

She just smiled at me.

“Girl-slash-Stepsister Code says that even if you break up with Jake, I can’t date him,” I said. A tiny flutter of hope started up in my stomach, and I knew from past experience it was best to squash it as soon as possible.

Her smile got bigger. “I absolutely promise you I won’t be jealous or care if you two date. It won’t hurt me to let him go.”

“How can you say that?” I couldn’t fathom how such a thing was possible. It was actually beyond my comprehension. “You’re acting like you don’t even like him all that much.”

Ella shrugged, as if she agreed with what I said. “Don’t get me wrong—he’s a nice guy. But we never had much in common or anything to talk about. I mean, it was fun to be seen with him the few times we went out. And I guess he’s cute and everything.”

Cute? Cute? I was insulted, even though I was still mad at him. Jake Kingston was insanely hot. Like, God’s-gift-to-women hot. And fun to be seen with? There was so much more to him than that, but I realized in that moment that Ella didn’t see him the way I did.

Then it occurred to me that Ella had never really had a chance to get to know Jake very well. I didn’t like to think about the two of them as a couple, but what Ella said made me think about everything in a new light. He had spent the entire summer with his family at some château in France. Since he had returned, with her volunteering, schoolwork, and job, and with his extracurriculars, they never spent much time together. Jake had started his pursuit of her last fall, and I’d thought Ella was just playing hard to get, but now it sounded like she had never been interested in him. He’d finally gotten her to agree to go out with him at the end of the school year, where they were oh-so-predictably and nauseatingly crowned queen and king at Malibu Prep’s version of the prom. They were not the PDA type. You would never have even guessed they were dating if you didn’t know better. Everyone at school always speculated and gossiped about it. I had been approached a few times for intel, but I honestly knew nothing. Ella and I never talked about Jake. She had tried once or twice, but I’d always shut her down. I couldn’t bear it. Now I wondered what she would have told me had I ever let her talk. If she would have admitted to how things actually were between them.

If she would have explained why their relationship had been even weirder since he got back. Since around the time of the Bathroom Incident.

Even if it gave me some hope and made my long-standing guilt melt away, I couldn’t do it. “I don’t want you to break up with Jake for me.”

“It would have happened anyway. You just gave me the excuse I’ve been looking for. And I’m not breaking up with him for you. I’m doing it for me.” Ella turned her head to study my manga wall. She suddenly sounded unhappy. “There’s a boy I’ve been sort of interested in, and I’ve wanted to go for it, and I realized I didn’t know how, so I just stayed in something that felt comfortable, which was dumb.” She turned back to face me and took both of my hands in hers. “If I’d known it would hurt you, I never would have even dated him in the first place.”

I realized that I might have to reassess the Ella situation. I might even have to cross off some numbers on my List of Grievances. No wonder everyone loved Ella. She was pretty awesome, even if I had been blindly jealous over something that I apparently didn’t need to even worry about.

“Why did you date him?” I know I had my no-Jake rule with Ella, but I wanted to understand.

She shrugged again. “I guess because everyone expected me to date the quarterback.”

“It’s very high school cliché of you.”

“I know,” she said.

I guess since I was being such a miserable cliché by crying over a boy, Ella might as well be one too. “And if I’m being honest, it was in part because he wanted me to.”

Of course Jake Kingston got everything he wanted whenever he wanted it.

“So what do we do now?” Ella asked.

It royally irritated me that Jake always won. He wanted Ella as a girlfriend, and he apparently wore her down until she finally said yes. He was the star of the football team, probably on track to become valedictorian, and had everything in his life handed to him on a silver platter.

Well, maybe I could take something away from him. Ms. Rathbone and Trent had been right. I needed to take some action in my life. It was time for the ugly stepsister to strike back.

“What are we going to do now?” I repeated with a small, sly smile as I squeezed her hands tightly. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do now. I’m going to run for senior class president.”