Based on #5 of my own advice, I’d better take down the painting. Should I punch my fist through it, like someone on TV might do? Throw it in the fireplace and dance before the flames while doing a cleansing chant? But I can’t destroy the painting, I know that. It reminds me of what a talented artist Jared is and why he deserved that art scholarship. And it’s proof that the love between us had been real. To destroy it would be like saying that the love never existed.
I take the painting down and put it in my closet, facing the back wall. Then, since my closet is messy anyway, I throw a cardigan over it so I won’t have to see it.
A bleep comes from my computer. It’s an instant message for the Oracle. Forget it. I’m not in the mood to answer questions. Right now I’m having trouble dealing with my own life.
I try to turn my mind to other things, but then my conscience kicks in. What if it’s important? What if someone really needs me?
Oracle: Good evening.
NYCgirl224: Hi, Oracle. My family hates my boyfriend. They’re doing everything they can to make me break up with him. They won’t tell me when he calls or stops by. It’s to the point that I have to meet him in secret.
Oracle: That must be really difficult for you. Have you talked to your family about why they feel this way?
NYCgirl224: Of course. They think we fight too much. But all couples fight, don’t they? It’s normal. They just don’t know him like I do. They don’t see how sweet and loving he is.
Oracle: Maybe your family’s concerned you’re not happy with him.
NYCgirl224: They’re so judgmental. Yeah, he’s made some mistakes, but he’s always apologized for them. He’s not a bad guy.
Oracle: What type of mistakes do you mean?
NYCgirl224: Our fights have gotten physical a few times. My BF’s got a bad temper—it runs in his family.
Oracle: Has he hit you?
NYCgirl224: Yeah, but it doesn’t happen often. Just when I make him really angry. And my family judges him on that, like he’s beating me up every day or something. You can’t blame him. He had a really screwed-up childhood.
Oracle: It sounds like your family is afraid for you. Do you think it’s okay that he sometimes hits you?
NYCgirl224: No. I’m not stupid. But sometimes he can’t help it. He’s working on his anger issues. He says he’s going to get counseling.
Oracle: It’s not your job to stick by him while he gets help. It’s not acceptable for him to hit you—not even once. Let him work out his own problems.
NYCgirl224: *Groan* You sound like my parents. Are you really a teen?
Oracle: I am. But I strongly feel that anyone who hits you has lost his right to be your BF.
NYCgirl224: You just don’t understand, Oracle. No one does.
She disconnects. It’s the first time a client has ever hung up on me. Did she really think I would support her in staying with her boyfriend? Usually I try to be diplomatic, but I couldn’t this time.
Talk about perspective on my situation. A breakup isn’t so bad compared with having an abusive boyfriend.
I hope I’ll hear from her again, but I doubt it. I can only hope she comes to her senses before it’s too late.
That night, as I lie in bed, I can’t stop thinking about it: the moment I fell in love with Jared. The moment I knew that my feelings weren’t just a trick of teenage hormones, but the real thing.
It was back in January. The school day had just ended, and Jared and I were getting our stuff from our lockers when we saw a crowd gathering in the hallway. We went over to see what was going on, and saw idiot jock Declan McCall giving Evgeney Vraslov a wedgie as a bunch of people cheered him on. Evgeney’s glasses had skidded off on the floor, and his face was bright red with humiliation.
Jared dropped his book bag, strode up to Declan and grabbed the collar of his shirt, hoisting him backward. Evgeney dropped to the floor, and Declan stumbled. A hush came over the crowd. No one could believe that someone would dare challenge Declan.
“What the hell?” Declan glared at Jared, rubbing his neck where his collar had bit into it. “You promised me a wedgie, Dec.”
Now no one, I mean no one, called Declan “Dec,” apparently due to his dislike of being compared to patio furniture. Since Declan was a little slow, it took him a few seconds to realize that now he was the one who looked like a jackass in front of everyone.
Declan got up in Jared’s face. I felt my heart pumping with fear. He was big and brawny and had made mincemeat of plenty of guys on the football field. A ripple of excitement went through the crowd as everyone braced for Declan to throw a punch. Several guys started chanting, “Fight!”
Jared held his ground. Didn’t even flinch. I realized that although Declan was the bigger guy, Jared had something far more dangerous. He had a quiet, deadly confidence about him. A please take a shot at me because I’m just dying to hand you your ass look in his eye that made Declan stop in his tracks.
After a few tense moments, Declan turned and walked away. The crowd, revved up for a fight, erupted in boos.
If ever there was a romantic hero, it was Jared at that moment. He was a guy who’d known trouble in the past—had even been in juvie—and wanted nothing more than to avoid it now. But he’d put himself on the line for Evgeney.
How could I not have fallen in love with him?
two
Sunday night is Glamour Girl night for me and my friends. It’s our favorite show about rich, spoiled teens and their world of brand names, booze and love triangles. As usual, we’re in Viv’s basement in Park Slope. Some might think we’re a strange mix because we’re all so different. Viv, who’s from a strict Indian home, is an honors student. Amy is a blonde bombshell who’s always looking for a party. Ryan is a metrosexual—a guy who isn’t afraid to add frosty blond tips to his hair and doesn’t mind being compared to Ryan Seacrest. Sharese is a church-going debate-club member who’s never shy about sharing her opinion. As for me, I’m not sure, but I think I’m the one in the middle who brings their different personalities together. I’m also the Oracle of Dating, of course, but Viv is the only one who knows that (and I’d like to keep it that way).
I break the news. There’s dead silence for two seconds. Then…
Viv: “That jerk!”
Ryan: “Good-for-nothing ass clown!”
Sharese: “May all his Jonas Brothers hair fall out!”
Amy: “You’re way better-looking than him anyway.”
At that, I’m slightly comforted, even though I know it’s not true.
“We always thought he was weird,” Sharese says.
“You did?”
They all nod.
“He was too quiet,” Viv says. “It was kind of creepy sometimes.”
“He didn’t know how to dress,” Ryan points out.
I’m surprised by their reaction. I thought they liked Jared. “If you guys didn’t like him, you should’ve told me.”
“It’s not that we didn’t like him,” Sharese says. “We just thought he was weird.”
“No offense, Kayla,” Ryan says, “but you weren’t much fun when you were with him. You never went to parties.”