The Art of Taking Chances Read online

  Ugh! Teachers could be so frustrating. I stormed out of the classroom, my fists clenched.

  Thankfully, Mia was waiting for me outside the door. “That’s rough, Jessi.”

  “Tell me about it," I grumbled, continuing toward the parking lot.

  Her perfect messy bun bounced as she fell into step with me.

  “What did Mrs. Jacobs say?”

  “That I’m stuck with Mr. Douche Canoe.”

  “Who knows? Maybe you guys will end up having…chemistry.” She giggled at her joke, and I gave her a playful shove.

  “Don’t ever say that again.”

  “Why not?” Mia shrugged her shoulders. “They say there’s a thin line between love and hate. Maybe being lab partners is that line.”

  I snorted. “I pretty sure JesMageddon was that line, and I am firmly planted on my side.”

  "Are you sure there's no going back?"

  I sighed. "I don't think so.”

  “Poor Jessi,” she said with an exaggerated pout. She linked her arm with mine and started walking faster toward her car. “Then let’s go get some ice cream. My treat.”

  I certainly wasn’t going to argue.

  Two

  Unfortunately, I had Chemistry four days a week, and that meant spending almost every day partnered up with Mason.

  Determined not to let him win, I woke up earlier the next morning and used the extra time to make myself look perfect. If I was going to be forced to sit next to my enemy, I was going to look good doing it. Show him what he was missing because of our fallout.

  Even though it was mid-October, I was able to wear my favorite dress, a short fit-and-flare number. The humidity might be killer in Florida, but at least I could show off a little skin in the middle of autumn.

  The first part of the day went by without a hitch. My Tuesday classes were no-brainers, and no one mentioned anything about what happened in Chemistry the day before. When I sat down for lunch, I checked all my social media feeds. They were also surprisingly clear of drama.

  I let out a sigh of relief and started eating my school lunch.

  A couple of minutes later, Mia flopped down in the seat beside me. She pulled out a bag of chips from her backpack. Her lunch usually consisted of that and a can of soda.

  Around a bite of food, Mia said, “I’m still not sure how you can eat that mystery meat.”

  “It’s probably closer to real food than the orange powder they coat your chips with,” I retorted. “And besides, the chicken sandwich isn’t so bad.”

  “It’s debatable.”

  I opened my mouth, giving her a view of the food she was protesting.

  Mia covered her eyes. “You, Jessi Jones, are one disgusting woman.”

  “I don’t know about that,” said a familiar voice from behind me.

  I turned to see Mason standing with a lunch tray in his hands. I felt tempted to spit my food on it, just to see his reaction. Instead, I quickly swallowed my bite and asked him what he was doing at our table.

  “I just thought, since we’re lab partners and all, it might be a good idea to figure out how we’re going to approach the lab today.” His face was frustratingly blank, and gorgeous as always, as he took a seat next to me.

  “First of all, I’d rather eat glass than talk to you during lunch.” I felt my blood pressure rising. “Second of all, there’s nothing to prepare for. We read the instructions yesterday. And third—"

  “Hey Mia,” Mason interrupted my tirade.

  The coy smile on her face made me feel oddly betrayed. “Mason.”

  “You look positively stunning today.”

  Mia blushed, and I sat up a little straighter in my seat. The thing was, Mia did look stunning. She always looked amazing, and usually, I wasn’t jealous of her. Especially not because of Mason’s attention.

  Today was different though. I had spent way too long perfecting my eyeliner. My hair was smooth and straight—no small task in the muggy weather.

  I cleared my throat, causing both Mason and Mia to face me. They both wore looks of pure satisfaction.

  “You look nice too, Jessi,” Mason said.

  “That’s not why I coughed.” I grabbed my milk carton and took a sip. “I was choking.”

  “Uh huh.” Mason nodded his head slowly.

  I lifted my brows in defense. “It’s true. Probably from that little display between the two of you.”

  Mia laughed and stood up. “I gotta go use the restroom. I’ll see you in English.”

  “I’ll go with you.” I started to get up.

  “I think I can handle it all by my lonesome, Jessi. Seriously, I’ll see you in a few.”

  Traitor.

  I plastered a plastic smile on my face and turned in my chair to face Mason again. His smile looked genuine as looked back at me. He lifted his sandwich to his mouth and took a bite, never taking his eyes off me.

  I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. “Mason, what do you want from me?”

  He shrugged. “I just want to spend some time together. Is that so weird?”

  I looked at Mason. “Yes, it is weird. Mostly because we haven’t spoken in two months. Mrs. Jacobs pairs us together, and all of a sudden you want to be besties?”

  “Maybe I want to make amends.” He almost looked apologetic.

  “Maybe it’s too late.” I checked to see if anyone was watching us. They wouldn’t hear what we were saying—the cafeteria was too loud for that. That didn’t mean some of the nosier students wouldn't pick up on our body language.

  I swore Melissa had been looking in our direction, but I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t want her to catch me staring, so I brought my gaze back to the boy sitting beside me.

  It really was unfair how good looking he was. Why was it that the cutest guys always had the worst personalities? Mason Alexander was a walking cliché.

  Neither of us spoke, while I continued watching the clock on the wall. It was the old-fashioned kind that had an hour and minute hands, and I knew they were somehow mocking me. The longer I stared, the more stubborn the minute hand became. At one point, it almost looked like it ticked in the wrong direction.

  When the bell signaled the end of lunch, I hurried to get up with my tray in hand. Mason walked beside me, carrying his own.

  I slammed my tray down in the small window of the kitchen, earning a frown from the lunch lady on the other side.

  Turning to face my archenemy, I whisper-yelled, “Are you trying to stir crap up again?”

  It had taken months for the drama to die down. Our falling out had been a social media nightmare, our dirty laundry littered all over Twitter, Snapchat, and Facebook. We even had our own hashtag. #JesMageddon

  It wasn’t the most creative thing I’d ever seen, but once one person used it, everyone in our high school followed along. Tweets of the fights we had in the cafeteria, screenshots of comments we made back and forth. And one stupid text message that somehow became public.

  What was it about a feud that had everyone rallying on one side or another?

  Mason’s smile was sad as he set his tray down. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. Not that I cared. “I’ll see you in Chemistry, Jess.”

  With that, he turned and walked away.

  Three

  I barely made it to class in time, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to Mia again. The fact that she sat on the opposite side of the room only added to my frustration.

  I glared at her from my spot, but she didn’t look in my direction during the entire class. As soon as the bell rang, I stormed over to where she sat at her desk. “You really are the worst, you know that?”

  She closed her notebook and looked up with an unrepentant grin. “But you love me.”

  “Something like that,” I grumbled. “Why did you leave me alone with Mason at lunch? Why aren’t you backing me up? He’s sitting with us at lunch, and you’re acting like it’s normal—”

  “It used to be,” Mia interrupted.

  �
�Yeah,” I answered slowly, “but not anymore.”

  Mia took her sweet time packing her bag. She stood up from her desk and looked me directly in my eyes. “Sometimes people make mistakes. Did you ever stop to think that this thing between you and Mason is one giant misunderstanding?”

  I lifted my brows. “That lasted for two months?”

  “You can be intimidating when you want to be. And you said a lot of hurtful things directed at Mason. Just remember, there are always two sides to every story.”

  “Whatever.” I left without looking back and made my way toward the science wing.

  Of course, every story had two sides, but he was the one who called me pathetic when I finally expressed my feelings via text message. Rejection would have hurt, but not nearly as much as the rumor mill that had followed. I kicked myself every day for sending something that could have a screenshot taken and be shared with everyone in the school. I should have told him face to face.

  When I walked into Chemistry, Mason was sitting at our desk. It was covered with vials of different liquids for that day’s lab, an assortment of glass beakers, and a small paper bag that looked completely out of place. It had a small bow attached to the top. As I got closer, I saw my name written on the front of it.

  “What’s that?” I asked, stealing a quick glance at Angel and Melissa.

  They both had their heads down, and yet somehow, I knew they would be paying attention to everything that was happening.

  Mason tilted his head slightly to the side, his expression innocent. “I guess you’ll just have to open it to find out.”

  “Is it a bomb?”

  He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound.

  I told my stupid heart to cool its jets. There was no reason to get excited by Mason Alexander.

  He didn’t say anything, but continued watching me expectantly, a smile stuck on his face. I opened the bag just get it over with. When I did, my breath caught in my chest. It was a cupcake from my favorite bakery.

  I looked up at Mason in confusion. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a cupcake.”

  “I know it’s a cupcake,” I said flatly, earning a smile. “I want to know why you gave it to me.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Consider it a peace offering.”

  I lifted the treat to my mouth. The lemon scent hit my nose just as the frosting touched my lips. My eyes closed in blissful anticipation. I was just about to take a bite when I thought better of it and stuck it out to Mason.

  “You first.”

  His hands went to his chest in a dramatic fashion. “I’m honored you want to share with me. Is it altruism or a secret plot to swap spit with me?”

  “Gross.” I crinkled my nose. “It’s more of a self-preservation tactic. I figure if there’s laxative mixed in, I won’t be the only one running to the bathroom.”

  A smirk played across his face. “As lovely of a visual as that is, I promise I didn’t put poop powder in your cupcake. It came straight from Patty’s Cakes, and she wouldn’t take a bribe.”

  I found my lips curling into a small smile, much against my wishes. It had been so long since I’d talked to Mason. I had forgotten how fun it was to tease each other instead of ripping one another to shreds.

  Falling into that way of thinking came far too easily. Between the teasing tone of his voice and the cupcake, it was like we were friends again.

  Why did he have to go and mess everything up like this? He was the one who told me I was pathetic, that he wanted nothing to do with me. And now, he was stirring up feelings I thought were long gone.

  I covertly took one last whiff of the sugary goodness in my hands, then got up and threw it in the garbage can across the room. Anyone in class would see. If Angel and Melissa wanted to report to the student body that Mason and I were flirting, my little show of defiance would set everyone straight.

  I wasn’t going down that path again.

  Mason refused to look at me as I sat back down.

  I told myself I didn’t care, that it was what he would do in my shoes. I told myself I wasn’t the jerk in this situation. But, for some reason, the silence between Mason and me as we worked on our lab project had me questioning the last couple of months.

  We measured different liquids, then combined them to see what the results were. For a lab, it was pretty tame, and I was thankful for the ease of the work considering the friction between my partner and me.

  We finished with plenty of time, and I brought our papers to Mrs. Jacob’s desk. I stuck them out, but she didn’t grab them. Instead, she took a quick glance at my lab station, then looked back at me. “Are things going any better today, Miss Jones?”

  I forced a smile, willing her to take the paper from my hand and be done with it. “Totally.”

  The smile she returned was much more genuine. “Well, I’m glad neither of you is letting your personal lives get in the way of your assignments.” She finally took the papers. “Go ahead and clean up your workstation. If you finish that, you can start reading chapter six.”

  Mason and I cleaned up as our classmates, did the same. Everything looked good except for one loose piece of paper on Mason’s side.

  I tipped my chin at it. “You going to throw that away?”

  The bell rang.

  “Actually, it’s for you. Put red cabbage juice on it when you get home.”

  “What the…” I started to ask, but my voice trailed off. He was already out the door and out of sight.

  I turned to see Mia standing near the classroom door, obviously waiting for me.

  “You ready to go?” she asked as I walked over.

  “Yeah, but we need to make one quick stop on the way home.”

  Four

  “What is that smell?” my mother asked, walking into the kitchen. She was home from work early.

  That was unfortunate. I had hoped to finish my mystery project before she got home.

  “Cabbage,” I answered as if having a pot of boiling cabbage on the stovetop was an everyday occurrence.

  My mom was right about one thing though—it didn’t smell great.

  “Yes, honey, I know what cabbage looks like. What I want to know is why you are boiling it. You aren’t trying to make dinner, are you?”

  I snorted. “No, I was just trying to make cabbage juice."

  She leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms. “Why?”

  “Because apparently, I need to put it on that.” I pointed to the blank piece of paper on the counter next to her.

  She picked it up and looked at it. “Oh, like invisible ink.”

  “I guess.” I was only slightly aggravated that she knew more about the mystery paper than I did. Okay, maybe more than slightly.

  My mom’s brows crinkled together. “Jessi, why didn’t you buy canned cabbage or cabbage juice? It would have been a lot faster. And easier.”

  Probably because I didn’t know those things existed, I thought, but simply shrugged in response.

  “Is it part of an assignment?”

  “You could say that,” I mumbled, stirring the pot.

  I was pleased to see the water was a deeper color than it had been even minutes earlier. I ladled some out into a bowl to cool.

  “What does it say?” The smile on my mom’s face was bright.

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t have to boil cabbage, now would I?” I was teasing, and thankfully my mom knew that.

  She laughed. “I guess not. You’ll have to let me know later, because right now I’m heading upstairs for a bath.”

  “Sounds good.” I was glad she wouldn’t be standing over my shoulder when I uncovered the secret message Mason left for me.

  After everything, I couldn’t be sure what it would say. It could be anything from I hope you die to Next time there will be laxatives.

  I grabbed the pastry brush from the drawer and began painting cabbage juice over the paper. I would never have guessed what it really said.

  Five

&nbs
p; When someone breaks your heart, there are certain measures you can take to keep yourself from doing something stupid.

  Delete their number. Unfollow them on social media. And never, ever, under any circumstances, meet them somewhere to talk.

  Unfortunately, I hadn’t deleted Mason’s number. I hadn’t unfollowed him, and I was on my way to meet Mason at the local park like he’d asked me to in the note.

  The park was more than a playground. It also had several walking trails surrounding the large, grassy expanse—trails Mason and I had walked many times over the last couple years.

  I found him at the trailhead where we used to meet, and without greeting each other, or saying anything, we started walking, both of us careful not to get too close.

  “Jessi,” Mason’s voice broke the silence after several minutes of walking side by side.

  Holding the still damp paper in my hands, I asked, “What do you want from me?”

  “I don’t know how things got so out of control between us.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe when you called me pathetic?”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Or when you told everyone I drool in my sleep?”

  “Only because you told people I fart when I get nervous!”

  “Yeah”—I sped up to match his angry strides—“but I said that after you told everyone I was still afraid of the dark.”

  “And I said that because you told Mr. Anders I plagiarized my paper on Madame Bovary.”

  Now our paces had quickened so much we were practically speed walking.

  “Well, you did.”

  “You didn’t have to tattle on me like some twelve-year-old girl.”

  I froze on the sidewalk.

  I still remembered going to our English teacher’s office after school. To that day, telling on Mason wasn’t something I felt proud of. It was right after Mason had told me how pathetic I was for thinking we might try going out. I was hurt, and I had lashed out. He’d gotten in trouble and had to rewrite his paper. His parents had grounded him. That had been the beginning of the end.