Out of Tune Page 2

  ‘Oh, come on, Ashley. Do the poor kid a favor; it’ll be his first day at a new school, the least you can do is—’

  ‘No way! I’m sure he can handle himself. He’s not twelve.’

  ‘Did I ask you to be his new best friend? Look, I’m not saying you should walk him to all his classes and be—’

  ‘Mom. What part of “no” didn’t you understand? Was it the N or the O?’

  Her retort to that is a cutting look, and she plants her hands on her hips. ‘Just give him a ride to school. That’s all I’m asking. Besides, he lives next door, it makes sense that you two carpool.’

  ‘I’m not driving to school tomorrow though, Josh is. I’m doing the kid a favor by not giving him a ride – he’ll only feel like a total third wheel.’

  ‘I’m sure Josh will understand.’

  I snort cynically.

  Mom’s voice then takes on a pleading tone – ‘I’ll give you gas money to fill up the tank if you take him to school. Just for this first week. Five days. Then he can make his own way there if you’re going to be so stupid as to insist on not carpooling.’

  My ears have pricked up at hearing the first sentence. Gas money to fill the whole tank . . . And my fuel gauge is looking pretty low at the moment . . .

  I am sorely tempted.

  ‘Maybe he doesn’t want a ride with me, did you think about that?’

  ‘Ask him, then, no harm in trying. If he says no, then you don’t have to drive him.’

  ‘Fine, fine,’ I sigh heavily, glaring still, but caving in at last. ‘But only – only – for the gas money.’

  ‘Sure,’ Mom agrees, trying hard not to laugh. ‘Not because under all that cynicism is a lovely girl, or anything.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  She lets out a laugh then and shakes her head at me. I huff and stomp back up to my room, although by the time I slam my door shut, I only do it for the sake of it. The initial irritation has ebbed away and now I’m just dreading having to walk over later and speak to Todd.

  The thing about houses on Maple Drive is that they are all pretty much identical in design, but someone thought it would be a nice idea to build them in sort of symmetrical pairs. My bedroom has a large window on the side of the house with a window seat (which is a feature I absolutely adore). And the house next door, which my bedroom faces has an identically constructed bedroom facing mine.

  Which has never been a problem before.

  This morning, I got out of the shower and walked back to my room with my towel wrapped around me. I ran a brush through my damp hair, singing to myself, and picked out some underwear from a drawer. I was about to drop the towel and get dressed when I heard a loud, ‘Hey!’

  Frowning, I looked around, before realizing it had come from outside my open window. Clutching my towel tightly around me, I moved to the window seat to see Todd leaning out of his window.

  ‘You might want to shut the drapes or something,’ he yelled over, with a pointed look at my towel.

  ‘Pervert!’ I shouted back.

  ‘Protecting your modesty!’ he retorted, then sat back in the window seat, closing the window behind him and pointedly turning his head away. With a huff of anger, I yanked the rope on the shutters and they clattered down to cover the open window.

  Now, I find myself walking over to next door and really hoping that Todd won’t want a ride to school tomorrow. I just feel completely humiliated after this morning.

  I ring the doorbell and bounce on the balls of my feet, my stomach twisting into knots. Maybe Callum will answer, and he’ll say, ‘No, don’t worry about it, I’ll drive Todd to school tomorrow,’ and I won’t have to be subjected to this ordeal.

  Todd opens the door. His eyebrows go up, surprised to see me.

  ‘Oh, hi.’

  ‘Look, my mom told me I should offer you a ride to school tomorrow, so if you want a ride that’s fine, I guess, but don’t expect me to be all buddy-buddy with you, got that?’

  I don’t mean to sound so horrible, but I want to get out of here as quickly and painlessly as possible. He saw me in nothing but a towel this morning and I’m worried that image might still be in his head. Not in a vain way, but seeing your neighbor almost naked probably isn’t the kind of thing you easily forget. And I’m still cringing over it, hours later.

  ‘Uh . . . sure, yeah, a ride would be great. I don’t know my way to the school yet.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll be outside at eight, school starts at eight thirty.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  I nod briskly. I turn on my heel and start walking down the path because I really don’t want to hang around there any longer – but then he calls out to me. I stop and turn back.

  ‘For the record, I don’t expect you to help me try to fit in. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself.’

  I give him a small smile. ‘Good. Glad to hear we’re in agreement on that.’

  He returns my smile with one of his own, and then steps back and pushes the door shut; I take that as my cue to leave.

  Beeeeeeeeep, beeeeeeeeep!

  I slam my hand on the snooze button and bury my face in my pillow. When the alarm goes again five minutes later, I’m tempted to shut it off and go back to sleep – then I remember why my alarm is going off: it’s the first day of school.

  Dragging myself out of bed and into the shower, I try to plan out what to wear today. Everyone makes an effort on the first day, even if they end up wearing sweatpants the next week.

  I tease my curly hair back into a ponytail and stand in front of my wardrobe, eyeing everything as critically as other people will today. I settle on denim cut-offs that give my butt some lift, and a sleeveless, pale blue blouse with a black Peter Pan collar, and I grab a sweater to toss in the car, in case it gets colder later.

  Cute, but not too over the top, I think with a smile as I look myself over in the mirror.

  I put some eyeliner on, and cover up my freckles with concealer and powder. I hate my freckles. I don’t have a couple of cute ones over the bridge of my nose like some people; my face and even my shoulders are covered in freckles. I hate it.

  It’s three minutes to eight, so I grab my satchel and head downstairs, tossing my book in my bag at the last minute in case I’m lucky enough to have a free period today. I swallow a piece of toast Dad has made for me as quickly as is humanly possible and call goodbye to my mom, who’s in her office upstairs. Dad’s sitting at the breakfast bar reading the biography of some footballer I’ve never heard of, and I give him a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Have a good first day back,’ he says.

  ‘Thanks.’

  My car, the old red Buick with the bad paint job, grumbles to life as I turn the key in the ignition, my keychains jangling together noisily. The exhaust sputters when I stop outside Todd’s house. I honk the horn in two short bursts to get his attention, and a moment later he wanders down the path and climbs in the passenger seat, his legs splayed awkwardly in the tight space. He reaches behind him to try and find the lever to move the seat back, and it jerks back a whole foot and a half in one go.

  ‘Nice car.’

  ‘Is that sarcasm?’ I ask sharply, scowling a little as I drive down the street. I know it’s not the best car – but I bought it with my own money, from Old Man Davies down the street, and I’ve got to save up for college, so unless this old thing catches fire, I’m not paying out to have it fixed up while it still gets me from A to B.

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘It’s a nice car.’

  ‘Oh. Well. Okay, then.’ I feel a blush creeping over my face for snapping at him.

  He smiles a little – I see it out of the corner of my eye, and realize that’s the first time I’ve seen him smile. It makes him look so much warmer, and less sulky.

  I turn on the stereo and the Imagine Dragons disc whirs to life and starts to play from where it left off mid-song. I don’t care what he thinks about the music, I just can’t bear a whole car ride in awkward silence.

  ‘You have go
od taste in music,’ Todd comments.

  ‘Duh.’

  He chuckles, but it’s very quiet, and he stops himself, fighting away the smile on his face.

  It’s pretty busy when we get to school. People are buzzing with excitement at seeing their friends after the summer, gossiping and chattering like they’ve been somewhere with no Wi-Fi, no social networks or cellphones. I roll my eyes as some girl squeals to someone she probably saw just last week that it’s been ‘way too long’, and I carry on walking past. I know where my friends will be hanging out.

  I don’t know what to do about Todd though. Should I introduce him to my friends, or stay here with him for the next seven minutes until the bell rings?

  ‘Um . . .’ I hesitate, gnawing on my lip.

  ‘Could you at least tell me where to find my homeroom? They mailed me a bunch of papers – like the school rules, dress code, map – and told me which homeroom I’m in. It’s okay, you don’t have to babysit me, but . . .’

  ‘If you have a map, why do you need me to tell you where it is?’ I smile though, so he knows I’m not being mean.

  ‘Because the map looks like something a five-year-old drew. It’s impossible to decipher.’

  I laugh, deciding not to argue, so he tells me where his homeroom is and I lead him there down a few corridors, through the throngs of people.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘That’s okay.’

  He’s fiddling with that guitar pick again. He puts it back in the pocket of his jeans but then takes it out again after a second or two.

  ‘Look,’ I sigh, and grab his hand. I dig into the side pocket of my satchel and pull out a pen. I bite the lid between my teeth and scribble my number on his hand. ‘If you need someone to eat lunch with, I guess, send me a text. Only to be used in case of emergency, though, got that?’

  I can’t help it! I feel bad for the guy. I’ve never really been the new kid, never been ostracized or anything like he might be. I can’t imagine what he feels like. He’ll make friends, I’m sure, and I don’t doubt that there will be girls queued up trying to talk to him by the end of the week, especially with those cheekbones and those eyes. But I feel for him.

  There’s that reluctant smile again, and for once he looks me right in the eyes. ‘Thanks, Ashley.’

  I smile back and shrug. Then I remember to let go of his hand, which falls back to his side.

  ‘Hey! Ashley!’

  I turn at the familiar voice and see the hulking form of my boyfriend making his way down the corridor toward us. I smile and as he reaches us I go on my tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. ‘Hey.’

  ‘You didn’t come to meet us. One of the football guys said he saw you come this way.’

  ‘Yeah, I was showing Todd to his homeroom. This is Todd, by the way,’ I say, pointing between them. Todd scuffs the toe of his shoe against the floor, head down. ‘My new neighbor, you know I told you about him? Todd, this is my boyfriend, Josh.’

  They both nod their heads in acknowledgement of each other with a blunt, ‘Hey, what’s up,’ and the bell rings. Relief washes over me that we can get out of here before things have chance to get awkward. I slip my hand into Josh’s and say, ‘See you,’ to Todd, and we head off down the corridor to our own homeroom.

  ‘Were you giving him your number?’ Josh mumbles, bending to speak in my ear.

  ‘Yeah, just in case he needs some help. It’s his first day. I was just trying to be nice.’

  He grunts. I stop walking and step to the side of the corridor, tugging at Josh so that he steps beside me. I rub my hand up and down his forearm, over the muscles there.

  ‘You’re not jealous?’

  He lets out a sigh and smiles. ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you too,’ I say back. Smiling, Josh tilts my face up so he can kiss me.

  A throat clears loudly, followed by, ‘Miss Bennett, Mr Parker. I think you ought to be on your way to homeroom now.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Josh drawls at the geography teacher, who carries on down the corridor. I’m blushing furiously. Then Josh gives me another kiss, and we walk on to our first class.

  Chapter Three

  Todd O’Connor isn’t the only new kid, of course, but he’s by far the most talked about. I don’t see him for the rest of the morning, but I hear snatches of gossip about him. Although nobody seems to know that much about him at all, not really.

  ‘Where did he even come from?’

  ‘Someone told me he used to go to boarding school in New York. Apparently, they caught him smoking pot in the library. Can you believe it?’

  ‘Well I heard he used to live in California. Got kicked out for selling drugs on the football pitch, you know?’

  ‘No, he moved from a juvie centre in North Dakota, I heard someone telling Olivia Riley.’

  Not that I know much about him – but come on, people really believe all the rumors that are spilling around the school? I don’t pay them any attention. The bell finally rings for lunch, and I make my way to the cafeteria and over to my usual table.

  Josh and Austin are already there with Naomi. Then the twins, Sam and Neil, turn up just as I get there. I glance around the rest of the room, looking at the cliques and the groups of friends joking about, or having playful, yet still heated, debates about something.

  I look back at my usual table as I draw closer, and there’s the usual feeling of disappointment in the pit of my stomach. It’s not that they’re bad people, or anything, it’s just . . . we don’t exactly have much in common. I never have much to say to them.

  Josh pulls me into the empty space beside him and gives me a kiss full on the mouth as I sit down.

  After a few minutes, the last of our little group arrive – Eliza and Danielle. I sit and pull apart the tuna salad sandwich I bought from the counter. It’s all the usual first-day-back talk: they moan about their classes, or say how relieved they are about the teacher they got for English this year. At least this is one conversation I can actually join in with.

  ‘Have you guys picked an elective yet?’ Neil asks.

  ‘I’ll probably end up choosing Film Studies,’ Austin says. ‘Watching movies for homework sounds like a piece of cake if you ask me.’

  ‘I don’t know. Choir again?’ Eliza is the kind of person who phrases most of her sentences like a question. ‘Totally boring, but the easiest class I’ve ever taken, you know?’

  That goes on for a while. I don’t have any input: I don’t want to tell them which elective I’m planning on taking. They’d only laugh.

  I never really have a lot to say in our conversations. They were all Josh’s friends before they were mine; I started to hang out with them once I began dating Josh, and truthfully, I don’t have that much in common with them.

  In freshman year English class, we’d had a new teacher partway through the spring semester. She introduced a seating chart, and I’d ended up sat right next to Josh Parker. I’d had a crush on him for a while – he had that whole ‘golden boy’ image going for him, what with the blond hair, the dazzling smile, the green eyes that were set just a little too far apart that gave him an endearing flaw.

  Allie used to roll her eyes when I’d say maybe I had a shot with him. Back when she was my best friend.

  I used to blush a lot whenever he joked around with me, but I was never very bold when it came to boys. I tried all the magazine techniques – smiling like I had a secret, talking about other boys to try and pique his interest . . . It seems so stupid now, thinking I used to act like that around him.

  But Josh was one of the cool kids; he just had the right aura and the right look that made him one of them from the off. Allie and me on the other hand . . . we were still trying to find where we fitted in at high school. She’d joined the school paper, and I’d joined the swim team, but neither did us much good when it came to popularity. We were both totally invisible. Irrelevant.

  When Josh finally asked me out, it was like my wildest dreams had come true. He was cute
and funny, and he was popular, too.

  Allie didn’t exactly see it that way.

  I shake myself. I’m being way too nostalgic. It’s the first day back at school, shouldn’t it be like a fresh start? Shouldn’t I have put everything that had gone on between me and my ex-best friend behind me by now?

  I try and pitch in with the conversation at the lunch table, but I seem to have even less to say than usual.

  As we’re heading to our afternoon classes, Josh pulls me aside. I don’t know what it’s about, but he looked preoccupied through most of lunch. Maybe it’s about one of his classes – maybe he has to re-take Algebra I, which he took last year. It wouldn’t surprise me.

  ‘How much do you know about that O’Connor kid?’

  So definitely not about Algebra I . . .

  My first instinct is to point out that he’s not a kid; he’s the same age as us. But Josh wouldn’t exactly appreciate that, I think.

  Instead, I say, ‘Not a lot. He’s not particularly talkative. I don’t know, I only spoke to him a little the other day. Why? What’s wrong?’

  He shrugs, looking around. ‘People are saying all kinds of things about him, that’s all. I don’t know that I like the kid. I know it’s a lot of rumors, but some of it could be true. You don’t know what kind of person he is.’

  ‘What does it matter?’

  Josh gives me a flat look. ‘If you’re going to be driving him back and forth to school all week—’

  ‘Oh, come on.’ I clench my teeth for a second, trying not to let it show how exasperated I am with him. ‘I don’t know much about Todd, but he’s not a bad guy. You’re honestly not paying attention to all those stupid rumors, are you?’

  ‘Those “stupid rumors” have got to start somewhere, haven’t they?’ he argues.

  I shake my head. ‘Whatever. I have to get to class.’

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you, too.’ He leans down to kiss me, but I make sure it’s only a short one; I do have to get to class. As I turn to walk off, he smacks my butt lightly. I glance back just enough to roll my eyes at him. Then I see someone looking at me with a pair of big, gray-blue eyes, from underneath a mess of dark brown hair. There’s a set of headphones around his neck, which he pulls up over his ears. Then he ducks his head back down and carries on walking.