Playing the Player(49)

“I know.”

“Just tell me.”

She sighed. “He’s trying to figure out…he wants to know why…”

“Why I’m such a freak?” I flopped face down on the couch and buried my head in the cushion.

“He never called you a freak. Or any other name.” She paused. “Honestly, Trina, I’ve never seen him act this way before.”

A loud car horn sounded through the phone.

“I’ve gotta go before my dad kills Trey for honking.” Desi’s voice was rushed. “Call you tomorrow!”

I tossed my phone on the coffee table and buried my head deeper in the couch cushion. Slade figuring out the Freaky Trina show was not going to happen. No way.

Why did he care, anyway?

I headed into my bedroom and booted up my computer. I stared at my screen, willing it to swallow me whole and send me into its circuitry, like that weird Tron movie. I’d rather battle video game characters who could kill me than write my weekly report for Slade’s mom.

Or think about why Slade was asking prying questions about me.

Even worse, another paycheck had arrived in the mail from Dr. Edmunds. I’d shoved it in my desk drawer because I couldn’t bring myself to deposit them anymore. Not when my feelings about Slade were such a jumble.

The cursor blinked at me, daring me to put on my “mentor” hat and document all the things Slade had done wrong. Or right.

What about me? What about all the things I’d screwed up? Maybe I should write a report about myself. I sighed heavily and started typing.

The kids are bonding well with Slade.

I paused. What about Slade and me? Were we bonding? Something had shifted at Jungle Fever. There’d been that moment under the tree, when I thought maybe….

This was the problem with me going so long without dating, or going on blind dates from hell courtesy of Desi. I’d forgotten how to be normal around guys.

I jumped up from my chair. Mom was working a twenty-four hour shift, so the rest of the afternoon and night were completely mine. I needed to do something to get out of my head. I didn’t want to turn into one of those stupid obsesso-girls who couldn’t talk or think about anything but some guy.

The bus ride to the shelter would put me there in less than an hour. Sharon was always happy to see me, and there had to be something constructive to do there. Maybe it would absolve a little bit of my guilt about those stupid paychecks sitting in my drawer.

And keep my mind off Slade and his prying questions.





Chapter Twenty-Three

Trina

Monday, June 17

I woke up exhausted. Besides a nightmare about my brother, something I hadn’t had for a long time, I’d also dreamt about Slade. We’d sat under the tree at the park and he’d kissed me, but then he’d pulled away, laughing, and suddenly we were surrounded by a bunch of kids from school, laughing and pointing at me.

Yesterday, before he’d stalked Desi at the mall, Slade had texted me his idea for the day. He wanted to take the kids to a park that had outdoor rock walls for climbing and fountains that shot out of the ground. He’d surprised me by suggesting he pick me up first, and then we’d get the kids.

I’d refused, using my sleeping mom as an excuse, but the truth was I didn’t want him seeing Brian’s shrine, which Mom had set up for this week’s anniversary.

After I showered, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror blow-drying my hair. I yanked my fingers through it, pulling out the ends to make wispy spikes around my face.

Desi had to be wrong. I wasn’t blow-drying long, blonde waves of hair. I didn’t have ginormous boobs or wear tons of makeup. My eyes were brown, not blue or green. I was pale, not suntanned like a beach goddess.

It didn’t make any sense that Slade would turn into the Miss America judge who preferred the girl who won the talent competition instead of the swimsuit contest.

Mom had left a note by the toaster. See you tonight. Pizza and movie? XOXO.

Like I had any other plans?

I made a cup of nasty instant coffee while my Pop Tart toasted. I’d rather have awesome coffee from Starbucks, but I was trying not to spend any extra money. Even though I could afford it, what with the extortion money and all.

I couldn’t stop yawning as I walked down the three flights of stairs from our apartment to the parking lot. Our ancient Honda had seen better days. Sometimes I envied Desi’s newer SUV, with its Bluetooth and GPS. And Slade’s Jetta that he didn’t think was cool enough.

Slade and I had agreed to meet at the park; he’d bring Max and I’d bring Gilly. As I drove, I tried to clamp down the hope bubbling inside of me, but it filled me up just like music did when I danced in my room, when no one was watching.