Perfectly Misunderstood (The Perfect Series Book 4) Page 4

  “You’re kidding. I’ve never met someone from south of the border who wasn’t all about tradition,” I replied, a little surprised. Maybe Cuban culture was different. But at our house, everything was about family, or religion, or celebrations. Since both Fernando and Mom were born and raised in Florida, we observed all the American and Mexican holidays. There was always a reason to party at our house. Fernando’s motto was fiesta till siesta.

  “Sadly, I’m not kidding.” She really did look sad. “My father’s parents emigrated from Cuba before he was born. Grandma was pregnant, but they wanted Angelica’s dad to have a better life—filled with opportunity. They made the dangerous trip anyway so that he could be born in America, and it paid off. At least, that’s what my Dad says.”

  “They sound like good parents.”

  “I wouldn’t know; I never met them. They died in a car accident when Dad was fifteen.”

  “I’m sorry,” I echoed her earlier sentiment.

  “Me too. But that’s life.” She shrugged. “Their death had a different impact on my dad than it did on Uncle Luis. According to my uncle, the two of them used to be close. But you wouldn’t know it based on how they interact now, which is barely at all. If it wasn’t for my mom and Aunt Daniella being weirdly tight, they’d probably never see each other.”

  “Why would your grandparents’ deaths drive the two of them apart? Don’t people usually get closer in a situation like that?” I asked, not sure why I was getting personal. That was something a friend would do.

  “Because my grandparents were hit by a drunk driver. The stereotypical American businessman, in a brand-new Mercedes, for whom drinking and driving laws were apparently optional. The guy who hit them was wealthy enough to afford a fancy lawyer. He walked away with minor injuries and only four years of jail time. That’s the minimum in Florida—for one count of vehicular manslaughter. But he killed two people, so to my father and uncle, justice hadn’t been served. It was a slap in the face.”

  I clenched my jaw, suddenly angry for Jayden’s family. Life was so unfair. What a horrible story. I didn’t know what to say, but Jayden continued. “Luis went on an anti-American kick. He probably would have gone to live in Cuba, except that my dad was still a minor and Luis was eighteen, so he took guardianship. My uncle embraced everything Cuban and became resentful of the American ways he was raised to love.

  “My dad leaned the opposite way. He felt like abandoning the American dream was a dishonor to his parents, who had sacrificed everything to make sure they were born here. He decided that he’d be what they wanted him to be…an American. Dad stopped recognizing Cuban traditions, stopped speaking Spanish, went to law school, married a white woman, and moved to the suburbs.”

  Jayden chuckled at her comment, and I felt obliged to do the same, even though I didn’t find the story funny at all. “Why do you think their attitudes were so black and white? Your uncle and your dad, I mean. It is possible to honor both ways of life at the same time. My family does it.”

  “Well, good for you,” she said, sounding hurt.

  “I didn’t mean to be offensive.”

  “I know.” Jayden sighed. “Honestly, I’m jealous that you get to live the double life I’ve always wanted. Instead, I’m a half-Cuban girl who doesn’t understand a lick of Spanish. I know that’s not totally uncommon for someone who’s second generation American born, but I feel like people assume I should know it. Plus, I just really want to learn Spanish. I used to ask my father to teach me, but he always refused. He said that part of his life was in the past. Eventually I gave up trying. My mom is from Wisconsin, where there’s like seven Spanish speakers in the whole state. She’s zero help.

  “The only exposure I get is when I’m around Angelica’s family. But they talk so fast I can’t keep up. It’s humiliating to be failing Spanish when I look like I should already know it. Not to mention the fact that Angelica’s acing it, and she likes to rub it in.”

  “Are you actually failing?” I asked skeptically.

  “Yes! My grade just dropped to a C plus.” She looked outraged, and I had to bite my cheek to hold back my laughter.

  “I believe, that by definition, you’d need to have an F to be failing.”

  Jayden glared at me. “Don’t be smart with me. And don’t think I’ve forgotten that you referred to me as both chica and boo in your little rap-thingy during fifth period. I told you those words were off-limits. If we’re going to work together, I expect you to speak like the intelligent human being I know you hide in there.” She waved her hand at me in disgust. I guess our temporary truce was over.

  “So now I’m intelligent?” I asked, with one eyebrow raised.

  “Shut up. And while we’re on the subject, why do you act like you’re dumb as a stump, when clearly you’re not? That makes absolutely no sense to me.”

  “Look at the time!” I exclaimed dramatically, pulling out my phone and glancing at the clock. I still had twenty minutes before I needed to leave for practice, but I wasn’t about to tackle the subject of why I acted the way I did. Especially if Jayden was back to her regular, awful self. “I’ve got to get going. Coach will kill me if I’m late. He’s a stickler for punctuality.”

  Jayden frowned. “But we didn’t even study. That’s two days in a row. If you can only stay for half an hour, we need to use our time better.”

  “We’ll study tomorrow. Promise. I’m excited to hear how crappy your Spanish is.”

  She huffed before a mischievous smirk turned the corner of her mouth up. “It’s not any crappier than your haircut. See you later, Stumpy.”

  My answering grin was just as wicked. “Same to you, Brat.”

  I went through practice with a mix of jumbled emotions, and I had six long miles to think about them. For the briefest moment, I’d had an emotional connection with the one girl who was a gigantic pain in my butt. And I really hated that. But, on the other hand, I’d had an emotional connection with a girl. That was something that hadn’t happened in a long time. I hated that, too.

  Why did it have to be Jayden Valdez? Even if we could learn to tolerate each other, it was unlikely we’d ever be friends. This sucked. Now I had to spend my precious free time having a non-friendship with a spoiled brat who thought I was a loser. Welcome to my life. Mike McGinnes—son, brother, athlete, manny, closet intellectual, and, new to the list…sucker.

  JAYDEN

  I’d driven home with Becca yesterday, and we spent the entire ride discussing what could have caused Mike such monumental brain damage. My conclusion was that he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Becca thought I was being dramatic, but I insisted she couldn’t understand unless she’d spent some time with him. Then she offered to come to our study session. As they say, en español, no way, José. Okay, they probably don’t say that. Two afternoons with Mike, and I was already getting dumber. Good thing it was Friday. I’d have to do something smart over the weekend.

  Becca and I were standing outside the Spanish classroom. We were a little early, and the door was locked, so we’d been revisiting the Mike-is-an-alien hypothesis. I felt a tap on my shoulder as someone cleared his throat behind me. I tensed, worried he’d overheard all the extraterrestrial talk, but I turned to find Logan instead. “Hey, Becca.” He skipped over me and greeted my friend instead.

  “Hi, Logan. What are you doing all the way over here? Do you have a foreign language class this period?”

  “Um, no.” Logan hesitated for a long pause before continuing. “I was hoping I could steal Jayden for a minute. I needed to talk to her about something.”

  At that moment, Mr. Thompson walked up, waving hello. “Early to my class? You two must be excited to get your quiz grades back,” he teased with a smile and a wink.

  “Thrilled,” I deadpanned as he unlocked the classroom and went inside.

  Becca laughed and looked back at Logan, who was fidgeting. “Sure, you can talk to her. Just don’t let her man catch you together, or he might get jealous.
” She snickered and left us.

  “Your man?” Logan asked. A little of the color drained from his face as he cleared his throat again. “Are you dating someone?”

  “No. Becca’s being a dork.” I waved my hand dismissively, trying to ease whatever awkwardness he was experiencing. He’d had his tongue in my mouth, for heaven’s sake; not sure why talking to me was suddenly so difficult.

  “Oh.”

  “So, what’s up?”

  Logan stared at me for another couple of seconds before releasing a sigh. “Listen, Jayden, I’m sorry if I made you feel like I wasn’t into you. It’s not true. I know we weren’t serious or anything, but I was disappointed that you ended…whatever it was we had going on.”

  I bit back my shock. No wonder he was fidgeting. Expressing emotion wasn’t Logan’s strong suit. My instinct was to be snarky, since I was betting he didn’t miss me so much as he missed making out with me. It took everything I had to react kindly instead. “It’s okay, Logan. I just don’t think we’re very compatible. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. I want to be friends, even. You’re the one who’s been standoffish.”

  Logan cringed. I wasn’t sure if it was the use of the word friends or because I’d called him standoffish. “I’m sorry about that,” he replied. “I’ve never been dumped before. I wasn’t sure how I should act around you.”

  “I didn’t dump you. We weren’t even dating,” I objected. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mike approaching. He looked at me, looked at Logan, raised an eyebrow, grinned impishly, and did that limp-walk-thingy toward us. Oh, brother. Now was not the time for his antics. I tried to ignore him, hoping he’d go right past us. But I knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Hades I’d get that lucky. He was sagging his jeans, wearing a bulky gold chain, and sporting a baseball cap turned to the side. I swear, if he started rapping again, I’d kill him.

  “Hola, chica. ¿quién es el asta de bandera?” Mike asked smoothly and rapidly. He made it sound so easy. I hated him. It wasn’t fair. I searched my brain as quickly as I could for a translation. Quién means who. I think bandera means flag… Who’s the flag? No, that didn’t make any sense. Wait, this was Mike. It didn’t need to make sense; it only needed to make me annoyed. Mission accomplished.

  “This is a Spanish-free zone. English only until you walk through that door.” I pointed toward it and tried to sound bossy.

  “Well, in that case…” Mike took three steps until he’d crossed the threshold, then turned and faced us from two inches inside the room. “Diviértete con tu amante,” he said suggestively before leaving. Oh. My. Gosh. I hoped Logan didn’t know Spanish. Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks. Diviértete was a conjugated form of to have fun. I was 100 percent sure that amante meant lover becuase Uncle Luis always called Aunt Daniella mi amante, which I thought was sweet…until Angelica explained what it meant. Now it grosses me out.

  “Who was that guy?” Logan asked.

  “Nobody,” I answered, relieved that he didn’t ask what Mike had said.

  Logan looked as if he didn’t believe me, but he dropped the subject in favor of getting down to business. “I have to get to class, but I came to see if you wanted to go to the homecoming dance with me? Summer said she didn’t think you had a date yet, and I figured we’d have fun together.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I also think you broke up with me before things got good. But I’m willing to go as just friends, if that’s what you want.” He used air quotes when he said just friends.

  Before things got good? Did I even want to know what he meant by that? “I don’t know, Logan…”

  “I promise I won’t look at my phone the entire time we’re together,” he added with his cute, lopsided goofy grin. I could never say no to it.

  I laughed as the one-minute warning bell rang. “No phone? I’m that important to you, huh?” Logan’s eyes got wide, and he nodded in mock seriousness. His sense of humor was my other weakness. “Then how could I say no?”

  A look of relief washed over him, and his cheeks regained their normal sun-kissed pallor. “Cool. I’ll hammer out the details with the guys and let you know the plan.”

  “Sounds good. Now, get going. You’re already late.”

  “See you, Jayden,” Logan called over his shoulder as he jogged away. I headed to my desk, shaking my head.

  “What was that all about?” Becca asked anxiously, waiting for a juicy story.

  I tried to play it cool. “He asked me to homecoming.”

  Becca squealed loudly. Luckily, the sound was muffled by the bell. “That’s so exciting!” she answered, clapping her hands before her smile quickly turned into a pout.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Now everybody has a date but me.” As she said it, her frown deepened.

  I patted her arm and gently turned her to face forward in her chair. Mr. Thompson was giving us the are you done talking yet? look. Then I whispered, “Don’t stress. There’s still over a week to find a date. Even if you don’t, none of us will care. There’ll be plenty of guys to share. Lucas will probably even offer to take you as his second date. His ego is more than big enough for two girls.” I chuckled at my own joke.

  Becca scoffed in quiet outrage. “I’ll care.”

  “I have your quizzes graded,” Mr. Thompson announced gleefully and started handing them out.

  Noah raised his hand, then spoke without being called on. “Mr. Thompson, why do you make us take so many quizzes? This was two in one week.”

  “Nonsense. We had a quiz and a test, not two quizzes. Totally different.” He set Noah’s quiz facedown on his desk.

  Noah rolled his eyes but let it go. Mr. Thompson turned to me with a smile and said quite loudly, “Much better this time, Jayden. The tutoring must be paying off already.” Nice, Mr. T. You’re supposed to be discreet. I wanted to scold him, but he looked so proud of me that I didn’t have the heart to burst his bubble. I knew Mike was watching from a few rows over, probably listening, too. I looked at the huge B written at the top of my quiz and sighed in relief.

  “Yep, I’m sure it’s all that studying. I’ve got an excellent tutor.” I said it sarcastically and loud enough for Mike to hear. Then I glared at him.

  “Wonderful!” Mr. Thompson smiled proudly again. “I knew you two would complement each other.” Odd choice of words. Complement? I don’t think so. More like contradict. Mr. Thompson patted my desk and moved on to the person behind me. Mike was openly laughing at me. In a fit of immaturity, I wrinkled my nose and stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed even harder, and I shook my head before turning away. I didn’t want him to see that I was having trouble with my scowl. My stupid lips wanted to smile. They always betrayed me.

  When class was over, Mike stopped at my desk. Becca and I looked up at him. “I believe a thank-you is in order,” he said to me.

  Yeah right. “Oh, you don’t have to thank me,” I answered sweetly, knowing it wasn’t the response he was looking for.

  “I wasn’t going to. You should be thanking me. For being such an excellent teacher.”

  I snorted. “I’ll consider it. When you actually teach me something.”

  “Woman, I’ll school you so good, I’ma knock ya socks off.”

  “It’s well. I’ll school you so well,” I corrected him. “Don’t even get me started on the problem with I’ma. And to think I was starting to believe you were normal.”

  Mike glanced toward Mr. Thompson, whose back was to us, and his grin turned wicked. “Chica, you wouldn’t know normal if it bit you in that tight little booty.” As he said the words, he reached out and flicked my butt.

  He flicked my butt! He didn’t grab it or squeeze it; he flicked it. It’s like the gesture was meant to be more annoying than perverted. “What the hell?” I shouted, then slapped my hand over my mouth. Mr. Thompson turned around and looked at me with wide eyes. I wasn’t one to use that type of language, and I’d obviously surprised him and Becca, too. Mike’s eyes twin
kled with mischief. He was going to get it now. Payback was a very nasty word.

  “Is everything okay, Ms. Valdez?” Mr. Thompson didn’t yell at me, but he whipped out his stern teacher voice.

  “Sorry. Yes, everything is fine. It’s just that…” I smirked at Mike, ready to exact my revenge. “…Mike and I don’t really have enough time to study after school. He’s always leaving early so he won’t be late to practice. He says you’re a real meanie about that kind of thing.”

  “He did?” Mr. Thompson asked, sticking out his bottom lip. I nodded innocently, and Mike kicked me in the foot. Who knew being a tattletale could feel so rewarding? I waited for Mr. Thompson to lecture Mike on being rude. Instead, he appraised us carefully.

  “Being prompt is important. But, so is your education. I’ll tell you what, Michael has my permission to be at practice fifteen minutes late until you have your grade up.”

  “He does?” I asked at the same time Mike said, “I do?” Though he sounded more disappointed than surprised.

  “Absolutely. If you feel like an extra fifteen minutes will make a difference. But I don’t want him sacrificing practice if it won’t help you.”

  Well, that backfired. I was a total jerk if I didn’t take him up on his offer. “I think fifteen minutes will be plenty. In fact, I think it will be more than enough.” I overemphasized the word more.

  “Then it’s settled. Now hurry up, before you’re late to sixth hour.” Our teacher sat at his desk and shuffled through some papers, ending the conversation. I glared at Mike and stomped out the door toward my last class. I hated losing. And I’d just lost—big time.

  “Jayden, will you wait up?” Becca called, jogging out behind me. I’d completely forgotten she was there. Once she caught me, she grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop.

  “What on God’s green earth was that?” she asked in bewilderment.

  “That was me getting kicked in the nuts by karma,” I replied with an eye roll.

  “You don’t have any nuts to kick,” Becca pointed out, trying to make me smile. It worked. We continued to class at a brisk pace. Her sixth hour was much closer than mine.