My Clueless Broken Heart (School Dayz #3) Read online

  “Great job, Ave,” Dad says, when we meet her backstage after the show.

  “Exquisite, Avery. You’re still my princess,” Mom adds.

  Gran and I hug Avery, and Travis lifts his hand for a fist bump, sending her into a fit of giggles. While Avery’s ballet teacher praises my sister’s talent, Travis and I make a run for it.

  “When can I give you your presents?” he asks. Puffs of our breath hang in front of us like mini-clouds, drifting up to the velvet sky.

  “Presents? How many?” Thank goodness I bought him two things. Two small and pitiful things, but maybe he’s more into quantity than quality.

  He takes my hand. “If I were you, I’d lower your expectations. I’m a starving college student, remember?”

  Excellent. Quantity it is, then. “Are you and your dad coming for Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow?”

  He shakes his head. “We usually just stop by on Christmas day. Will you be wearing those cute reindeer pajamas this year?”

  “The ones with the fuzzy red ball on Rudolph’s nose that stuck out from my chest? Was that the last time you saw me in pajamas?”

  A mixture of horror, embarrassment, and the urge to break into hysterical laughter threatens to break me apart from the inside out. Five years ago, Travis was a teenage boy. He probably liked to look at real boobs on girls, not my braless starter set flopping around under Rudolph.

  He grins. “Those reindeer pajamas were cute. They made a lasting impression.”

  “You do realize that any chance you had of seeing me in reindeer pajamas was ruined when Avery caught us kissing, don’t you?”

  He heaves a sigh. “It’s a tough choice, but I’ll pick kissing over reindeer—for now, anyway.”

  “Me too.” I squeeze his hand. “Can you stop over in the morning?”

  “Whenever. I don’t want to interfere with your family time.”

  I blow out a steady breath and watch the wisp of white float away. “I’m sure my mom and dad will be busy with their movie stuff. But, I’ll text you.”

  When we arrive home, Travis parks on the grass behind the carriage house, the best spot for privacy now that we’re dealing with my parents lurking around every dark corner. In one fast movement, he tucks my body against his.

  “Do you want me to call you to say good night?” he asks, resting his chin on top of my head.

  “No, you can say it here. It’s late enough.”

  “Good night, Becca.”

  “Good night, Travis.” I close my eyes and wait. Frosty air glides over my lips. I open my eyes and tilt my face up to his. “Are you going to kiss me or something?”

  A corner of his mouth jerks up. “I was told kissing is inappropriate.”

  “Inappropriate when we’re in public.”

  “But you liked kissing me tonight.”

  “I didn’t like it in public,” I lie.

  “Admit you liked it, or no kissing.”

  “What do you mean?” I’m incredulous. “You’re not going to kiss me unless I admit that I secretly enjoyed your inappropriateness?”

  He stares me down, blue eyes unblinking.

  I draw in a shaky breath. “Fine, you win. I always like it when you kiss me. Even when you’re inappropriate.” Then I narrow my eyes and drop my voice to a whisper. “But next time, you’d better be ready to wage an all-out make-out war.”

  He shifts closer, his mouth hovering over mine, leaving the barest glimmer of space between us. “Bring it on.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next morning, I stumble across Dad’s phone, left on the counter. When I pull up the photo stream, a single dark, blurry image of Travis and me appears.

  “Crap!” I zoom in and out, to no avail. Dad didn’t even care enough to take a nice picture. I should have insisted on Avery taking the shot.

  “Language, Rebecca Jane.” Mom glances up from a copy of The Journal of Primatology, her idea of light reading.

  I set the phone down and reach for the coffee pot. “Sorry, it slipped out.”

  Mom watches my every move. “You shouldn’t be drinking so much caffeine.”

  I wave her off. “Everyone drinks coffee. My friends and I go to Starbucks after school all the time.”

  “Based on your last report card, I would suggest you spend less time at Starbucks and more time on schoolwork. Your B+ in science is unacceptable.”

  “Honors chemistry is hard. Mrs. Elliot doesn’t even grade on a curve.”

  Mom sniffs. “High school chemistry is basic mathematics and memorization of the Periodic table. Advanced chemistry can be challenging, possibly even difficult. If you need extra practice, incorporate a chemical experiment into your spring science fair project.” She digs her spoon into a bowl of granola resembling dry twigs and gray pebbles.

  I clank my mug on the counter. “No offense, Mom, but I haven’t competed in the science fair since middle school.”

  Her eyes zoom back to me. “What a waste of talent. With your natural grasp of science, you could easily win every year. Just like your father.”

  Oh, right. Dad. The person who lacks the ability to shoot a phone photo. Amazing. “I guess I just don’t like science.”

  “You mean you don’t love science, Becca,” says Gran, coming to my rescue. “You do well in all of your classes, but you prefer history and English, correct?”

  I nod in agreement, not trusting myself to elaborate.

  “You need to think long term. Build your science resume for college,” Mom continues. “Maybe you should take a break from sports.”

  No. Freaking. Way. “Soccer season ended. Basketball starts next week, and I’ve already committed to the team. It’s no big deal, just a few hours a week.” I take a seat at the table and flip open my own reading selection, a time travel novel, my Christmas gift from Val.

  “Is Travis coming over tonight?” Gran asks. Jeez, I thought she was on my side of the boy wars.

  Mom’s nose wrinkles. “You’re spending Christmas Eve with a boy?”

  “No, not tonight.” Because clearly, he’s not invited. “He might to stop by this morning. We still need to exchange gifts.”

  “Becca.” Mom sets down her Primatology magazine. “What’s going on between the two of you?”

  Silence looms between us. Even Gran manages to hit her internal mute button.

  I gulp the last of my coffee, searing my tongue in the process. “You’re never home anyway, so why do you care?”

  “Because I’m your mother, that’s why.”

  “Travis is my friend. I bought Mel and Val presents, too.”

  Mom’s eyebrows arch higher. “Who’s Mel? And Val?”

  I choke back laughter before rephrasing. “Melinda Banner and Valerie Villanueva. My best friends.” I notice worry lines pop up in Gran’s forehead.

  “Oh, Valerie. And Melinda. Girlfriends are different. But you shouldn’t buy gifts for boys. You’ll send the wrong message.”

  “What wrong message is that?” I slam my book shut. “Travis knows I like him and he’s mentioned once or twice that he likes me too. I don’t hide my feelings.”

  “No, Becca, your feelings are always obvious to all of us. But you don’t want this boy to think whatever’s going on between you is more than a casual thing. You can’t possibly be serious about him. You’re sixteen. And he’s … not your type.”

  “Because we … come from different circumstances?” Travis’s words come back to haunt me.

  “Something like that … you’ll understand one day,” Mom says, flipping through her magazine.

  Horrified, I open my mouth to protest, but Gran quickly presses her hand on top of my shoulder.

  “Marlowe, in some respects I agree with you. Perhaps Becca shouldn’t be serious with a boy at her age. But Travis and Tim Brennen spend every holiday with us. They’re like family. And I refuse to tell someone who has been nothing but devoted to helping us for years that he isn’t welcome in my home.”

  Without waiting f
or Mom’s comeback, I shake free of Gran’s grasp and fly out of the kitchen, knocking my chair over in the process. My bare feet pound the steps. I turn the lock on my bedroom door and fumble for my phone.

  Travis picks up on the first ring and yawns. “You’re awake already?”

  “I need to tell you something.”

  “Okay. Shoot,” he mumbles.

  “My mother is being a witch about us.” I wait for anger. Fury. I’ll even take irritation. I get nothing. “Travis. Can’t you see what’s happening? Christmas is turning into a complete disaster.”

  “Chill, Becca. We’ll work it out.”

  “How?”

  Travis answers with another yawn.

  I sigh. “I want to see you today, but I don’t want to stir things up with my parents.”

  “Then stop over here, if you can get away. I’ll be home, but text first to make sure I’m decent.”

  His comment draws a laugh out of me. “What can you possibly be wearing that’s indecent? Reindeer pajamas?”

  “Funny. You must have some form of an imagination.”

  My already active mind kicks into overdrive. “I’ll be there in an hour. Is that enough time for you to put on some clothes?”

  ***

  I lock myself in my room for exactly sixty minutes, afraid of losing my temper again. Then I sneak out the back door, carrying Travis’s presents under my arm.

  At the carriage house, Mr. Brennen greets me, blue eyes twinkling, grinning widely, like a normal father who’s happy to see his child’s friend. I need one of those.

  “Merry Christmas, Becca. Did you buy me something special this year?” he asks in his booming voice, nodding toward my gifts.

  “Merry Christmas, Mr. Brennen. No, I’m sorry—” I stumble out an excuse, but he just laughs.

  “Travis! Becca’s here,” he bellows. “I’m on my way to the hardware store for rock salt. Tell your grandmother I’ll be over later to shovel the walkway. It’s only an inch of snow, but I don’t want anyone to slip.”

  “Is the hardware store open on Christmas Eve?”

  “For another hour or so.”

  “Just your luck, Dad. You’re never guaranteed a day off when you work for Becca’s family.” Travis appears at the top of the stairs, wearing ripped jeans and a gray T-shirt. When he notices the wrapped boxes in my hands, he disappears into his room. Mr. Brennen plants a kiss on my cheek before stepping out.

  Travis hikes down the stairs, carrying two gift-wrapped boxes. “Are we doing this now?”

  “Please. I need something to remind me that Christmas is fun. And the suspense is killing me.”

  He leads me into the small sitting room in the front of the house. “Come in and say hello before you tear into everything.” We settle on opposite ends of a faded blue sofa, not exactly shabby, more worn and comfortable.

  Travis grins. “Hi, Becca.”

  “Hi, yourself. Me first.” I lunge for his boxes.

  “Hey, don’t rip my arm off.” He tosses me the smaller present. “Here you go.”

  I turn the gift over in my hand, studying the crisp folds and coordinating red and green ribbons. “Did you wrap this yourself?”

  “Hell, no. I paid the girls at the mall.”

  With that, I tear into the paper and uncover a velvet box. Major jaw drop. Inside, I find a silver charm bracelet with a soccer ball and a crystal star dangling. The ball and star clink together when I fasten the clasp.

  “It’s beautiful. I love it.” I lean closer, intending to hug him, but he throws his arms around my waist and falls back on the sofa, taking us both down. The distraction works for about ten seconds.

  Tearing my lips from his, I shove my hair back, away from my face. “Time to move on.”

  He tries to pull me down again, but I bat his arm away.

  After some fake grumbling, he hands me the second box. “You have a one-track mind. And it’s not on the right track right now.”

  Ignoring him, I unwrap the gift. It’s a flashlight.

  “A top of the line waterproof, rustproof, LED model with an adjustable beam. That sucker gives you spot to flood capability,” Travis says. “The so-called flashlight you carry to the treehouse belongs in the Smithsonian. It’s going to die on you any minute.”

  I twist the black cylinder back and forth. “This is great. Thank you.”

  “You like the bracelet more.”

  “No, the flashlight is so you. Practical, yet quirky. I love both gifts.”

  “Good. Merry Christmas, bah humbug, whatever.” He rubs his palms together. “Where’s mine?”

  He pages through the book about surviving medical school, even smiling at one of the supposedly funny stories, and promises he can’t wait to read the rest. Then, he opens the box with the empty frame and laughs. “Is this why you wanted the picture of us?”

  “Yes, but I checked my dad’s phone this morning. The shot was blurry. I’ll ask Avery to take another one.”

  “I have a picture to fit this. Come here, I’ll show you.” He takes my hand and leads me upstairs. His bedroom is half the size of mine, and neat enough to be bordering on scary perfectionism. Every book arranged in perfect alignment on wooden shelves handmade by his father. A college pennant hangs on the wall, along with a picture of Travis and his dad wearing matching baseball caps and holding fishing poles. In a small gold frame on the desk I glimpse a grainy picture of a young woman with ash blond hair, light blue eyes, and a familiar smile.

  I lean in to examine the photo. “Is this your mother?”

  “That’s her. It’s the only picture I have. My father packed most of her stuff away.”

  “She’s beautiful. Gran says you look exactly like your dad when he was young, but I see her in you, too.”

  Keeping my hands at my sides, I chance a cautious look around.

  Travis smirks. “What do you think of my room?”

  “You’re very neat. It’s a little intimidating.”

  He runs his hand over the top of his clutter-free desk. “I wasn’t always this bad. But studying, sleeping, and hanging out in a cramped space with a roommate you barely know makes you appreciate having personal space when you’re home.” He opens a drawer and removes a snapshot. “This is from my graduation party. My Dad bought a new camera and decided to bug the hell out of everyone that day. You stopped by with Avery and your grandmother, remember?”

  “I remember the party. I don’t remember being in a picture with you.” I squint at the photograph. “I’m not looking at the camera.” But I must admit the image is flattering. Behind me, Gran’s flowering dogwoods bloom, lush greens and bright pinks. Windblown curls twirl over my shoulders. My smile is natural, not faked or forced. Mr. Brennen even snapped my good side.

  “You still look beautiful, though.” Travis pulls me into his arms, and presses his lips to mine. “Thanks for the gifts.”

  “Is that how you’re going to thank me?” Batting my eyelashes, I manage to imitate Avery’s deceptively innocent voice.

  “I think I can do better.” He leans in and kisses me again.

  We spend the next few hours laying on his bed, holding each other, talking about everything and nothing. For the first time, I allow the bitterness inside me to seep out. But I suspect Travis already knows what I carry deep inside of me, because nothing I say seems to surprise him.

  “My parents aren’t bad people, right? They’ve got all these film awards. They run a huge wildlife charity.” I prop up on my elbow, ready to reveal the truth. “But … I hate myself for hating them.”

  Travis reaches for a loose pillow and tucks it under his head, raising his face closer to mine. “You don’t hate them.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. Sometimes I wish I did, though. I mean, I’m old enough to make my own decisions, but my mom still insists I should be a scientist. And did they think I would never date?”

  “They weren’t ready for … an us. They need some time to adjust.”

  I scowl. “Or
not.”

  He reaches his hand behind my knee and hooks my leg over his side, securing me against him. His lips skim over my neck. The warmth of his touch eases the tightness in my muscles. “Based on your parents’ track record, they won’t be here forever.”

  Will you be here forever? I pull back, letting my eyes search his when the question pops into my head.

  Travis blinks, like he read my mind. “We’ve only been together—like this—for a month. You might change your mind about me.”

  “I know how I feel Travis. Am I missing something?”

  “No, you’re not missing anything.” He kisses me convincingly. “But, like you said, you’re old enough to make your own decisions. Make sure it’s the right one before starting a war with your parents. Don’t trash your relationship with the people paying for your college tuition.”

  I snort. “What relationship?”

  “Becca,” warns Travis. “We weren’t planning on being together tonight, anyway.”

  I push all the breath from my lungs. “Fine. For you—no, for us—I’ll hold back from telling my parents where they can stick their opinions about my friends. But playing their game means we can’t be together much when they’re home.”

  A smug grin spreads over his face. “I think we can beat them at this game.” He pulls me closer and whispers in my ear, even though no one can possibly hear us. “You fail to see the advantage we have, living so close. We can act fast. Sneak around when your parents aren’t paying attention.”

  “You know, I never imagined you were a person who got such a thrill from danger. Should I worry about this?”

  A pounding sound below cuts off his answer.

  “Travis? Is Becca with you?” Avery opens the unlocked front door of the carriage house.

  I roll away from Travis. “We’re up here.”

  Her light steps tap up the stairway. “Mom and Dad are looking for you.”

  “Go home, Becca.” Travis tugs me up from his bed. “I’ll call you tonight.”

  “Before or after Santa comes?” Avery pokes her head in his room.

  “Who invited you in here?” I ask.