I know what you look like. I saw your picture in an old yearbook. It's nice, being able to see you in my head while we're talking.
I wish I could see you.
It hit her then that he had no idea what she looked like. He didn't know how pretty Amanda Beeson was. He'd fallen for her personality--her attitude and feelings. She was momentarily dumbstruck. Never in a million years would she have thought that those would be qualities a boy would find appealing in her. She was pretty, she was popular--those were the aspects that pulled in the boys. That was how she got attention.
Do you want me to describe myself?
No, that's not important. I feel as if I know you, as if you're imprinted in my heart. That's enough.
They talked like this for hours, until Amanda started yawning and knew she was going to fall asleep. They made a date to "meet" after school the following day. And she floated away to sleep on what felt like clouds of love.
The next morning, before homeroom, she went to her own locker and waited. A few minutes later, Other-Amanda showed up.
"Hi, Ken," she said.
Amanda recognized her own flirty voice. Other-Amanda fiddled with her locker combination but kept her eyes expectantly on Ken. What would Ken say to her at a moment like this?
She didn't care. She had something to give herself.
"I wrote something for you." It was only a little white lie. After all, she had typed it.
Other-Amanda looked puzzled. "What did you write? A letter?"
"No. It's a poem. For you."
Now she looked confused. "Why did you write me a poem?"
"To express my feelings." She pulled the envelope from Ken's backpack and handed it to her. Other-Amanda took it gingerly, as if she were afraid it would bite.
"I'll see you in class," Other-Amanda said, taking off.
But she saw Other-Amanda before that. She went to the school library during her study-hall period and saw her at a table in the back, with Katie and Britney. They were looking at a sheet of paper, and they were laughing.
She edged closer, staying behind a bookshelf so that they couldn't see her. Peering through a space between some books, she got a better look at what they were doing.
She couldn't really say she was surprised when she saw that the paper was her poem--Rick's poem. Other-Amanda was making fun of it and encouraging her friends to do the same.
"Is this unreal or what?" she was asking them. "Can you believe I ever wanted to hook up with him?"
"Do you think he's, like, had a nervous breakdown or something?" Britney wondered.
"I don't know and I don't care," Other-Amanda replied. "This makes my skin crawl. It's so, I don't know, emotional."
She made it sound like "emotional" was something disgusting.
"'I want to drown in my tears,'" she misquoted in a squeaky voice. "Ew, this is so weird! Who would have thought someone who looked like Ken Preston could be such a dork?"
Amanda was in pain. It literally hurt to hear these words, and not because she was Ken Preston. The words were difficult to hear because she knew this was exactly what she would say if any boy gave her a love poem. Or what she would have said, before Rick.
Thank goodness Rick couldn't see this Other-Amanda. How could she be so shallow, so unfeeling?
Who was she, anyway? Was this the real her, this Other-Amanda she was watching? Or was she the girl inside Ken who was in love with a poet?
Maybe they were one and the same. Maybe Amanda or Other-Amanda or whoever the real person was just talked like that to impress her friends. Because it was the way they behaved. No, she couldn't blame her friends. It was the way she behaved. Because she was "cool."
At least Rick would never know this girl. He could talk only through Ken. But she had to go back inside herself sooner or later. That girl over there, making fun of a guy who showed his feelings--that was her.
For the first time in her life, she didn't like herself very much.
Chapter 14
THERE WAS A SURPRISE waiting for Jenna after school on Monday Just as she and Tracey emerged from the building, she spotted the now-familiar yellow car at the curb.
"It's my father," she cried in delight. She ran over to the car.
Stuart rolled down the window. "How's my girl?"
"Fantastic!" Even as she said the word, Jenna was thinking that this was probably the first time she'd ever responded to a question about herself with that word. On the other hand, who had ever called her "my girl" before?
"Just thought you might be interested in an after school snack," he said.
"Sure!" She waved to Tracey. "C'mon, my dad's taking us out for something to eat." She was pleased-- this was the perfect opportunity for Tracey to get to know Stuart and see for herself what a great person he was.
Tracey seemed to be walking unusually slowly, and she didn't look particularly thrilled at the notion.
"Jenna," her father called, beckoning for her to come closer to the window. When she did, he spoke quietly. "Listen, I'd rather this was just the two of us, okay? I need to talk to you."
He looked unusually serious, and at first she was puzzled. Then a disturbing thought occurred to her, and the pessimism she'd pushed to the back of her head returned to the forefront. He wanted to talk to her alone. Why? Because he'd changed his mind about hanging around. Because he was leaving town and he wanted to say goodbye.
She looked back at Tracey. Her friend couldn't have heard him, but she'd stopped approaching anyway.
"Thanks, but I've got tons of homework," Tracey said. "I need to go straight home. Have fun." She turned away and walked off in the opposite direction.
Jenna frowned. Tracey could at least have said hello to Stuart. It wasn't like her to be rude. Jenna joined her father in the car and they headed off. Already depressed, she watched him, waiting for the bad news. She should have known her fantasies were just that--fantasies. Ex-husbands and wives didn't reunite after 13 years--not when they hadn't had any contact at all during that time. There wasn't going to be any little house with a backyard. All those silly dreams she'd had were going to stay just that, dreams. Her father was going to leave, and another 13 years might pass before she'd see him again.
She pressed her lips together tightly. She would not cry. At least, not in front of him. After all the experiences in her life, why hadn't she learned that people always ended up letting you down? She wanted to be angry. But all she could feel was this enormous sense of disappointment.
Stuart pulled into a fast-food restaurant and ordered a couple of drinks from the drive-through window. "Want something to eat?" he asked her. "Some fries? A burger?"
"No thank you," she said stiffly. Five minutes ago, she'd been hungry Now food was the last thing on her mind. Without a word, she took the drink he handed her. They left the parking lot, and he drove silently for a couple of minutes. Turning down a pretty street lined with trees and cute bungalows, he pulled alongside the curb and stopped. As he turned off the engine, jenna asked, "What are we doing here?"
He didn't answer the question. "There's something I have to tell you," he said.
Jenna looked out the window on her side so that she wouldn't have to face him as she replied. "I know. You're leaving."
His silence confirmed her suspicions. Then he said, "I want to explain . . ."
She interrupted. "You don't have to. Could you just take me back to Tracey's?"
"Only if you're willing to leave tomorrow."
Slowly, she turned toward him. "What?"