Perfectly Misunderstood (The Perfect Series Book 4) Page 6

  “Love you, too. Night, Mom.” I sighed. Now I had to find a date. Brady would be thrilled. Even if I thought Jayden and I could make it through a dance without killing each other, it didn’t matter. I knew she already had a date, because I’d eavesdropped…I mean, overheard Becca and her talking. I probably wouldn’t have asked her, but the option would have been nice. I know what I told Brady, but I didn’t really want to spend all night with a giggly freshman. Plus, my suburban thug act was getting old, and Jayden would prefer regular me. It could have been a refreshing change.

  Suddenly, an idea popped into my head. Becca didn’t have a date for homecoming yet. I’d eavesdropped…I mean overheard that conversation, too. I know Jayden’s a brat, but I couldn’t believe she was so insensitive. If she’d been a guy, I’d have thrown down just to defend Becca’s honor. Obviously, I couldn’t fight Jayden, but I could still defend Becca. The more I thought about it, the more I wished I’d asked her to the dance right then. But she’s a girl, so she’d have assumed it was a pity invite. Maybe it was better that I hadn’t.

  Becca was as tall as I was, and if she wore heels, she’d tower over me. I know some guys have issues with girls being taller than them. I bet that’s why she hadn’t been asked to the dance. Mike McGinnes was too confident to let a tall girl threaten his manhood. Generally, I preferred curvy girls that looked like girls. Becca was a skinny sack of bones, but she was pretty, and she seemed cool. Plus, there was the bonus that asking Becca would annoy Jayden.

  I headed for bed with my mind made up. But halfway there, I stopped abruptly. I wasn’t any good at this kind of stuff. Sure, I talked like a player, but realistically, I was romantically challenged. I walked back to the couch and grabbed the book I’d hidden behind the cushion. Then I ran into my room and locked the door behind me. If by some small chance my mom came to check on me, I’d tell her I was studying chemistry.

  JAYDEN

  Becca didn’t talk to me the entire way home on Friday. I figured she needed time to cool off, which was totally fine. But then she didn’t answer any of my apologetic texts on Friday night, either. Or Saturday afternoon. So, when Summer called to see if I wanted to swim at her place on Sunday, I made up a story about not feeling well. She told me Becca and Logan would be there, and I knew I couldn’t handle them both at the same time.

  Instead of swimming, I was in my room, fiddling with my violin (pun intended) because there was nothing better to do. Also, I knew it would keep my father off my case. He’d been upset with me ever since he saw my progress report. Five As and one lousy B minus. Any normal parent would have been thrilled. But my father had unreasonably high expectations for his only child. I’d never get into a top tier medical school with a B minus on my records. According to him, anything less than an A in a subject as easy as Spanish I was disgraceful. Again, it was ridiculously hypocritical of him, but I kept that to myself.

  It’s not like he was pushing me to do something against my will. I honestly wanted to be a doctor. And I wanted to get into a good school. The difference between us was that I felt other elements of young adulthood were equally important. What he called screwing around with my friends, I considered social and emotional development.

  My mother always supported me, which is why I had any freedom at all. She was the only person I knew who would go toe-to-toe with Rico Valdez. She’s also the only person who could get away with it. Not that her efforts made a ton of difference. Mom constantly warned Dad to take it easier on me or to lighten up, but he was as stubborn as a mule. It’s a good thing he loved her so much, because she challenged him often. Though, even Mom knew when to pick her battles.

  My phone rang during a marathon of melancholy pieces. I set the violin down and picked up the phone without looking at the screen. I assumed it was Becca, finally coming to her senses. “I’m truly sorry,” I blurted quickly. “I was a giant jerk. I was going to make you apology cookies, but you wouldn’t answer your phone.”

  A male voice chirped happily. “Goody, I love cookies. You’re forgiven.”

  “Mike?”

  “That’s my name, and ballin’s my game.”

  “Ugh. Don’t start with that crap. I don’t have the patience for it today.”

  “You mean, all those other days, you’re being patient with me? Yikes, I’d hate to see you on an impatient day.”

  “Shut up. I thought you were Becca. What do you want?”

  “I’m confused. Do you want me to shut up or tell you what I want?” Mike asked. He was trying to annoy me, and it was working.

  I was in a bad mood, so the chance to take it out on him was welcome. “Tell me what you want, then shut up.”

  “Does this mean you aren’t making me cookies?”

  “Oh my gosh, just tell me why you called already.”

  “Weeeell,” Mike dragged out the word, pretending to be thoughtful. “I hadn’t been verbally assaulted in a few days, which made me realize that I missed you,” he answered, and for a second, I wondered if he meant it. But only a second.

  I snorted. “Sure, you did.”

  “Okay, you got me. What I really miss are your cookies.”

  “You’ve never had my cookies,” I pointed out.

  “Not yet. I assumed that’s why you answered your phone with an apology and offer to make them for me.”

  “Arg!” I yelled into the phone, and he laughed.

  “Fine. I called to say I won’t be able to meet you for tutoring this week.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Some stuff came up,” he answered vaguely.

  “Stuff?” I prompted, hoping he’d elaborate.

  “Yeah, stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff?” I prodded.

  “Noneya.”

  “Noneya?” I repeated the non-word as a question.

  “As in noneya bizz-ness,” he explained.

  “Yeah, that’s not going to cut it. If you’re bailing on me, I deserve to know the truth. My future as a doctor depends on it.”

  “That’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think?”

  “Tell that to my father,” I answered, my words laced with venom. Mike must have realized he hit a sore spot, because he stopped pushing my buttons.

  “I have to babysit after school this week, so I can’t stay to study.” Right on cue, thousands of crickets chirped. I was speechless. “You still there?” he finally asked.

  “Yeah, sorry. You caught me off guard. I was expecting you to say you had a big drug deal going down or something.”

  “Funny.”

  “I thought so.”

  Mike sighed. “My mom’s class schedule is all messed up for the next couple of weeks and the babysitter is going to be out of town, so I’m stuck with my brother and sister.”

  “And a rational adult trusts you to take care of them?” Oops. There I went again, a flaming ball of unprovoked rudeness. I was a glutton for punishment.

  “Does that surprise you?” Mike asked, less chipper than he’d been a second ago.

  “Yes, but I suppose it shouldn’t. Now that I know what a big phony you are.”

  “Boy, you really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

  “No.” I groaned. “I’m sorry. I’m just in a bad mood, and you canceling on me isn’t helping. I really need to get a good grade on Tuesday’s quiz. Too bad I don’t know what it’ll be on so I could start studying.”

  Mike was quiet for a long time. “How badly do you want to study?”

  “Pretty bad,” I answered honestly.

  “Bad enough to make me cookies?”

  “That’s extortion,” I pointed out.

  “Yep,” he agreed, but didn’t rescind the request.

  “Possibly. But I don’t see how that helps the situation.”

  “You could come to my place after school. My house is tiny and the twins are crazy, but I’m sure we could get a little studying done amid the chaos.”

  “You want me to come to your house?” I choked out in shock, t
hough it might have sounded more like horror.

  “Or don’t…” he replied sheepishly. “It was only a suggestion. No big deal.”

  “Wait, no. I mean, yes. I’d be fine coming to your place. As long as you don’t mind.”

  “If I can handle my siblings for an afternoon, I’m pretty sure I can handle you.” Mike’s mocking tone had returned, and I was relieved. I’m not sure why, but I’d been worried that I’d hurt his feelings, which had never bothered me before. I chalked it up to my current squabble with Becca, since I didn’t want to be in anyone else’s doghouse. Especially someone I needed. Did I just admit that I needed Mike McGinnes? What was this world coming to?

  “What’s your sixth-hour class?” Mike asked.

  “Applied Physics,” I answered.

  “Good, you’re close. I’m right up the hall. Don’t worry. We can meet at a concealed location. How about in front of the teachers’ lounge? Students avoid that place like the plague.”

  “How thoughtful of you,” I drawled.

  I could hear his smile through the phone. “I’m nothing if not sagacious.”

  “Nice.” I laughed. Did he just pull these words out of thin air?

  “I am pretty nice, aren’t I?”

  “No, you’re a butt. I meant your use of the word sagacious was nice.”

  Mike chuckled. “Thought you’d appreciate that. It’s been real, but I gotsta git. Stuff ta do. Drug deals ‘n’ all dat.”

  “Right.” I laughed. “Don’t let me keep the hoodlums of Franklin High School waiting.”

  “Very prudent,” he agreed.

  I was amazed. The boy had a gift. A big, dumb, stupid gift. “If you aren’t going to tell me why you do it, will you at least tell me how you do it?” I begged.

  “Do what?”

  “Switch it on and off so fast. One second you’re Lord Illiterate, and the next you’re King…” I paused, searching for the right term.

  “Sesquipedalian?” Mike offered.

  “That’s not a word.”

  “Is too, look it up.”

  “Hang on.” I pulled open my Internet browser and typed the word. I even got close on the spelling. “Sesquipedalian,” I mumbled, “Given to using long words. Exactly! Lord Illiterate or King Sesquipedalian. You’re an enigma.”

  “No, I’ma playa.”

  “No, you’re a moron, and I’m done here.”

  He chuckled, and so did I. Then we went back to silence. It was almost like we’d shared a moment. Weird.

  “Hey, Mike?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What class do you have sixth hour?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

  “AP Calculus. Why?”

  “No reason. See you tomorrow.” I hung up the phone before he could say good-bye. AP Calculus. Sheesh. There had to be something going on there. Nobody pretended to be stupid when they weren’t, unless they had major issues. So, what were Mike’s issues? That was the million-dollar question. Too bad he didn’t always act like the person underneath the unlaced high tops, gold chains, and bleach-tipped hair. If he did, I might not have felt compelled to meet up in a secret location. Or wait there for fifteen minutes so nobody saw us get in a car together.

  My phone rang again. I answered quickly, “What in the heck do you want now?”

  “I knew it was too soon to call. You haven’t learned anything, have you?” Becca asked, sounding more defeated than angry.

  “Crap! Sorry, Becca. I wasn’t expecting you. I thought you were…someone else.”

  “Who? Doesn’t it say Becca on your screen when I call?”

  “Yes. But I didn’t look before picking up. And I’d just been…never mind. I’m sorry. Like, really, really, super incredibly sorry. I was a big jerk. I was annoyed and took it out on you, and that was unfair. Please forgive me.”

  “Stop groveling. You’ve been forgiven. The only reason I didn’t call back sooner was because I wanted you to sweat it out a little. Think about things, for once.”

  “Well, it worked. So, you’re not mad at me anymore?”

  “No. If I stayed mad at you, I wouldn’t have anyone to help me find a homecoming date.”

  “Summer could help,” I offered.

  “Summer’s useless right now. I love her to pieces, but she’s in Levi-La-La-Land. Life’s all rainbows and unicorns and emojis with heart-shaped eyes. I need someone grounded in the reality of high school boys. Not someone living the teenage dream.”

  “Are you saying I’m not living the teenage dream?” I scoffed, pretending to be hurt.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I think Logan is dreamy, but it’s obvious that you don’t. The only other guy you really talk to right now is Mike. So, unless you think Mike’s dreamy…” She trailed off, waiting to get a rise out of me.

  “Yeah, he’s a dreamboat and a half,” I said sarcastically. “If by boat we’re talking gigantic oil tanker, overflowing into the ocean, killing millions of aquatic animals and ruining pristine beaches.”

  “I was thinking more like a tiny little tugboat,” Becca said thoughtfully. “You know, not much to look at, but surprisingly useful.”

  “Your analogy is better.” I laughed. “Let’s start by figuring out who you want to go to homecoming with.”

  “Besides Brady Jones?”

  “Yes, someone more available would be good.” I chuckled. Becca had been crushing on Brady since our freshman year when he made the varsity basketball team, which her father conveniently coaches. Brady was a rare find among high school boys. He was nice, smart, and hot. Unfortunately, so was his girlfriend Beth. Those two were like high school royalty, without all the awful clichés. They were so nice, you couldn’t even root against them.

  “What about Mike?” Becca asked hesitantly.

  “Mike who?” I asked. I didn’t know any Mikes other than McGinnes.

  “Really, Jayden?”

  “You mean Mike-Mike?” I asked, appalled.

  “I mean your Mike.”

  “He’s not my Mike. Not now, not ever. Come on, Becca. There’s got to be someone better than Mike.”

  “What do you have against him?” Becca asked curtly. “Because honestly, I don’t get why you’re so harsh. Sure, he acts like a tool sometimes.”

  “Sometimes?” I squeaked.

  “Okay, most times. But he’s never mean to people. He’s not ugly, either. I’d even call him cute. You just don’t notice because you’re too fixated on his clothes. He’s a super good athlete. Not many people letter in three sports, and he did it as a sophomore. I’ve heard there’s more than one college looking at him for a cross-country scholarship. And I know he isn’t stupid, despite what people think. All his classes are in the AP hallway.”

  “Someone’s been doing their homework,” I teased Becca as a lump formed in my throat.

  “I don’t think you give him enough credit,” she replied.

  “That’s because he hasn’t earned it.”

  “Well, for the record, I think your standards are impossibly high,” Becca objected.

  “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” I grumbled, thinking of my father and his own impossibly high standards. “Somehow you’ve managed to exceed them.”

  “That’s because I’m five-eleven. I exceed all the standards.” I could hear the eye roll in her voice. There was silence on both ends of the phone, until Becca cleared her throat. “Would you mind if I asked Mike to homecoming?”

  “Why would I mind?” I asked incredulously. Still, her question resonated with me. Would I mind? Of course I wouldn’t mind. Why should I care whom Mike goes out with? It’s not like I liked him. I mean, we weren’t even friends—he was my tutor. And I was ashamed to be seen with him.

  So why did I care if Becca asked him out? The answer was that I didn’t care. I just didn’t want her to look foolish by going out with a fool. “I don’t care. If you want to ask Mike to homecoming, go for it. But don’t come crying to me when everyone makes fun o
f you for having the only date in a suit coat and a wife beater.”

  “He’s not that bad,” Becca defended, but she sounded unsure.

  “It’s your funeral.”

  “It’s better than being a third wheel.”

  “Whatever makes you sleep at night.”

  “Fine,” Becca grumbled. “Then you come up with someone better.”

  “Fine,” I agreed, “I will. Give me twenty-four hours to think about it.”

  There was a knock at my door. “Jayden?”

  “It’s my dad. Gotta go,” I whispered, then hung up the phone quickly and threw it under my pillow. “Yes?” I answered. My dad opened the door and popped his head in.

  “Who were you on the phone with? You’re supposed to be practicing right now.”

  Busted! “I was just talking to my Spanish tutor. We had to find a new location for our study session tomorrow,” I replied. It wasn’t a total lie. I had been talking to my Spanish tutor. Twenty minutes ago.

  “You know the rules. Homework done, an hour of studying, and an hour on the violin before friends.”

  “But it’s Sunday,” I whined, though I knew it wouldn’t get me anywhere.

  “Jayden,” Dad warned.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “If you hadn’t slept in so long, you’d be done already. Do I need to take your phone?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good,” my father said, “I only want what’s best for you.”

  “I know,” I replied, as he pulled the door shut. Except I didn’t know. My father loved me, but he and I had very different ideas about what was best for me. He never wanted me to have any fun. Teenagers were supposed to have fun. They were supposed to be idle every now and then, maybe even a little reckless and stupid. It was essential to normal development. With my dad, though, it was always study, work, study more. It was exhausting. If he knew exactly how much I’d goofed off in the last few months, or heaven forbid, how much time I’d spent kissing a boy, I’d lose the small amount of freedom I had. Good thing he worked insanely long hours.

  I wanted to be a normal kid, and I hated that I had to sneak around to do it. My dad didn’t forbid me from having friends. He wasn’t an ogre that kept me locked away in his dungeon. But he didn’t approve of youthful frivolity, either. Sometimes it was hard to believe my dad was ever my age.