All That and a Bag of Chips Page 16

  And would it happen to me?

  “Remy?” Nick asked, his brows raising in question.

  The gentle way he said my name almost made me cave.

  Almost.

  But not quite.

  “What do you say?” He smiled that confident, charming, magnetic smile of his. The one that usually made me swoon.

  But I couldn’t let it today. Nick didn’t get it. He didn’t know how much I cared about him. We had this whole history he knew nothing about. And, yeah, maybe he had a weird sense of déjà vu around me, but that was it. He hadn’t experienced all I had. He didn’t know me the way I knew him. And I was certain he was into me the way I was into him.

  The way I’d always been into him.

  He’d taken pity on me once before, helping me make the cheer squad. Was he doing that again? Was I some weird form of redemption for him? Like some Make-A-Wish gesture, but for nerds who had crushes on popular boys? It was the new thing. Guys making girls wishes come true, and splashing it all over social media for attention.

  Although, I hoped Nick’s motives were purer than that. I knew about his past. About being bullied. I knew he had a good heart and that he meant well.

  But it wasn’t enough for me.

  I was pretty sure I was in love with him.

  And I couldn’t go to homecoming with him unless I was sure he really liked me. Right now I wasn’t sure at all. This all felt too convenient. Too staged.

  Shaking my head, moisture filled my eyes. “I can’t,” I whispered, scooting away from him.

  His smile slipped, his eyes darkening.

  My insides twisted until they were so tangled I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to unknot them. It was so painful I struggled to breathe. “I’m so sorry. I can’t go with you.” My eyes blurred. Nick resembled an impressionist painting. I was grateful I no longer had to see the tightness in his face, the hardening of his eyes.

  He stared at me a few seconds, disbelief in his eyes. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, pretty sure I was about to hurl. “I can’t.”

  “But the other day…we talked about homecoming…you said…” His eyebrows drew together.

  Ahh, so I was right. He had felt sorry for me.

  After staring at me a few more seconds, he stood. Shoulders sagging, he stalked off. I finally released the breath I’d been holding.

  “What the hell?” Ava sank down next to me. Sam watched warily from a few feet away. Whispers circled us. I couldn’t make out their words, but I could feel the disbelief in the air. “Did you really say no?”

  I nodded, swallowing down the thickness in my throat.

  “Why would you do that? I…I… don’t understand.”

  “It was a pity invite, Ava.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” she insisted. “Nick really likes you.”

  My eyes burned. With trembling hands, I scooped up my backpack and stood. “I have to go.”

  “Well, hold on.” Ava hoisted herself up.

  “I need to be alone,” I said, and then hurried down the hallway. It wasn’t until I was all alone that I allowed the tears to fall.

  I knew everyone thought I was crazy. And maybe I was.

  But Nick wasn’t just my neighbor or the quarterback or the hottest guy at school to me. Nick was a boy I cared about. Maybe even loved.

  And if I was nothing more than a pity invite, it would kill me.

  It was one thing to be betrayed by Ian. That I could come back from.

  But to be betrayed by Nick was something I wasn’t sure I could survive.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The week following Nick’s proposal was brutal. He completely ignored me. When we passed each other in the halls at school he never even glanced in my direction. It was like I was invisible to him.

  And it physically hurt.

  Everywhere.

  There wasn’t a part of my body that didn’t ache.

  I thought that being his pity date would be the worst thing in the world, but I was wrong. This was way worse.

  And I had only myself to blame.

  “Remy!” Ava caught up with me in the hallway while I was on the way to English.

  “Yeah?” I turned. A couple of girls glanced over, whispering. It was nothing new. Everyone had been talking about what happened between Nick and me. The entire school thought I was crazy, and I didn’t blame them. Who turned down Nick Sinclair?

  “Guess who I just ran into in the bathroom?” Ava asked, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed.

  “Who?”

  “Lacey Thomas!” She practically shouted. My eyes widened. “Sorry,” she lowered her voice. “Anyway, she mentioned something about you turning Nick down.” I frowned. Great. Even she was talking about it. “So, I asked her whatever happened with them. And she said she’d kinda been using him to make her ex jealous. Must’ve worked, too, cause she’s with him now.”

  Ahh, yes. The boyfriend. He’s in, like, all her pictures. Must’ve been why she hadn’t posted any of Nick. My heart kicked into high gear. If I’d been wrong about this, could I have been wrong about everything? “Nick did like her then?”

  “She thinks so.”

  “Okay, but that doesn’t mean he likes me.”

  “Rem,” Ava spoke softly. “Just because Ian hurt you doesn’t mean every guy will.”

  An unsettling whirl of emotions kicked up in my stomach. It was all too much. When I said no to Nick, I was certain it was the right thing to do. I truly believed I was protecting myself.

  Now I wasn’t so sure.

  I wasn’t sure about anything.

  “I have to get to class.” With my head down, I shoved past Ava and hurried down the hallway. By the time I reached my classroom, my entire body shook. I was practically having a seizure by the time I plunked down in my seat.

  We were discussing the Crucible, so I pulled out the book and set it on the top of my desk. I loved English. And I actually was enjoying the book. But I couldn’t focus. Mrs. Sullivan’s words were like white noise. Like the way the teacher sounded on the Charlie Brown cartoons. My mind was racing with thoughts of Nick., Brooke and homecoming.

  I couldn’t help but think I’d made a terrible mistake.

  My stomach churned.

  Mrs. Sullivan took one step down my row, her gaze sweeping over me. Uh oh. She often called me, because I was usually ready with an answer.

  Quieting my thoughts of Nick, I focused on she was saying.

  “What are some themes you picked up on when reading?” She tented her fingers, her gaze roaming the classroom, choosing who to call on.

  “That bitches be crazy,” Derek whispered behind me, and a few guys in the back snickered.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “What’s that, Derek?” Mrs. Sullivan took another step down our row, eyeing him.

  “Um…nothing, Mrs. Sullivan,” he said in a charming way.

  “You didn’t pick up on any themes?” She pressed.

  “Witches?” Was he asking or telling?

  “Okay, okay.” She nodded, her eyes crinkling in thought. “I was trying to get to something else, but maybe let’s try the question a different way.” She tapped her chin. “Why do you think it was so easy for Abigail and her friends to deceive everyone? Why were the townspeople so quick to believe them?” She glanced down at me. “Remy?”

  I bit my lip. “Well… I think they preyed on the people’s fear.”

  “So, would you say that fear is a theme?”

  I nodded.

  She smiled. “Very good.” Walking to the board, she wrote the word “fear” on it in all caps.

  I stared at it, uneasiness settling into my gut. Brooke had done the same thing as Abigail, hadn’t she? She preyed on my fear and insecurities, and I fell for it so easily.

  Man, I’m such an idiot.

  ***

  Before meeting Ava in the quad at lunch, I went in search of Nick. I’d been dying to talk to him ever since English, and there wa
s no way I could wait until tonight. Plus, he’d rarely been home all week, so who knew if I’d even get a chance.

  Still, I wasn’t looking forward to talking with him in front of all of his friends, especially Brooke. That’s why I was super relieved to catch him right outside the cafeteria doors.

  “Nick!” I called out before I could lose my nerve.

  He stopped and turned, his face hard. His hair fell messily over his forehead. Raising an eyebrow, his lips remained shut.

  I swallowed hard, taking a step toward him. It was now or never. “I’m so sorry.”

  His eyebrow lifted further, but he still said nothing.

  My mouth went dry. I swallowed again. Then licked my lips. “I really did want to go to homecoming with you.”

  “Then why didn’t you say yes?” Students shoved past us, many looking over curiously. My face flamed. He moved away from the doors, and I followed.

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “Brooke had said all these things about you pitying me…and I guess it just got in my head…and…it just…I don’t know…seemed too good to be true…”

  Letting out an exasperated sound, he ran a hand through his hair. “You know what I always liked about you, Remy? That you did your own thing and didn’t care what other people thought or said.” He shrugged. “At least that’s what I thought. Maybe I was wrong.”

  Heat worked its way up my neck and spilled across my cheeks. No way was he pinning this all on me. Yeah, Brooke may have gotten under my skin, but only because it seemed plausible. For years Nick never gave me a reason to think he liked me at all. He completely ignored me like I was nothing. A nobody.

  “You never talked to me,” I said softly.

  “What?”

  “I’ve had a crush on you ever since you moved in next door.” It was scary to pour my heart out like this, but it was time to come clean; to throw it all out there. I was done with games. “But you never talked to me. Not until a few weeks ago. Then all of the sudden you ask me to homecoming. What was I supposed to think?”

  “It’s you who’s been different. Not me,” he said firmly.

  “What?”

  “It’s what I was trying to tell you when I was working on my car. I told you that you were different. You thought I meant compared to other girls, but I meant that you were acting different than how you normally acted. You were the one who never talked to me. I tried. You always shot me down.”

  Shot him down? Was he legit? “I never shot you down.”

  His expression was one of disbelief. “Yes, you did. Whenever I said hi or waved, you looked away and ran off.”

  I went cold. He was right. I’d done that. But only because he made me nervous. I didn’t know what to say; how to act. He was freaking Nick Sinclair.

  “I…I didn’t realize…I…” Oh, god, I seriously had no idea what to say to make this better. To explain myself. Everything I came up with sounded lame. Weak. Stupid. Flimsy.

  “I remember one day you had said goodbye to your dad and I saw you crying on the front porch. My sister had left the week before, and I was pretty tore up about it.” He frowned. I felt sick, knowing what he’d say next. “I wanted to talk to you. Thought maybe we could…you know…be there for each other. But when you saw me, you raced inside.”

  “I was embarrassed. I never wanted you to see me like that. You’re Nick Sinclair! Quarterback of the football team. Popular. Hot.” Oh, geez. Why’d I say that? “And I’m…well…me.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “It means you’re out of my league. C’mon, you have to know that.”

  “I’ve never thought of you that way.” He stepped closer. “And I never pitied you. I liked you. That’s why I asked you to homecoming.”

  “Liked me? As in past tense?” I asked, my heart sinking.

  “You shot me down in front of everyone. I never would’ve done that to you.” With a sad smile, he backed away from me. Then he spun around and walked into the cafeteria.

  I had no idea what to say. Nothing would make this better. He was right. I’d screwed up, and no amount of apologizing would erase that. If only I could go back in time and redo it all.

  A prickling sensation ran up my spine. I froze. Maybe I could.

  Whirling away from the cafeteria, I headed to the nurse’s office. While heading there, my cell buzzed in my pocket. I yanked it out.

  Ava: Where are you?

  Me: Not feeling well. Going to nurse.

  Ava: Oh, no. Flu? Cold? Food poisoning?

  Me: Not sure.

  Ava: Hope it’s not contagious.

  I laughed.

  Me: Selfish, much?

  Ava: Sorry. Need anything?

  Me: Nope. Just home.

  Ava: Ok. Call you later.

  It wasn’t hard to convince the nurse I was sick. I looked like shit.

  I called Mom on my way out to the car (thank god I drove today), told her I was sick and was probably going straight to bed when I got home. My heart pounded faster with each mile I drove. I prayed over and over that my plan would work.

  Once I got home, I raced up the stairs and into my room. Then I snatched up Mom’s old Discman with trembling hands. The same CD I’d listened to when I traveled to 1993 was inside. I figured I should leave it in. I wanted to do everything exactly like I did the times before. So, I changed into the same jammies and slid under the covers. Staring up at the ceiling, I pressed play.

  After wishing myself back to last week, I fell asleep, soft music playing in my ear.

  TWENTY-THREE

  When I awoke in the morning, everything looked the same. Thank god the Discman hadn’t sent me back to 1993 again. Not that it would’ve mattered. Nick hated me in both lifetimes now.

  Snatching up my phone, I checked the date.

  My heart sank.

  Flinging the Discman across my bed, I cursed under my breath. Why hadn’t it worked this time? Was it like a one-time only thing? Like how a genie gives you three wishes. Maybe a Discman only gives you one roundtrip time travel.

  Exhaling, I slumped back down on the bed. This was my last hope. My last-ditch effort to make things right with me and Nick.

  I never would’ve done that to you.

  His sad expression from yesterday flashed through my mind. I’d seen that face twice now, and it killed me.

  Homecoming was tomorrow, and Nick was still so angry with me. I’d hurt him. I’d embarrassed him, and there was no way I could erase what I’d done.

  Plus, I was sure he’d asked someone else by now. I’d heard rumors that he and Brooke were going together. That wouldn’t surprise me at all.

  Groaning, I pulled the covers over my head.

  A knock on my bedroom door startled me. “Remy? Can I come in?”

  “Yeah.” I tugged the covers down to my neck.

  “Feeling any better, honey?” Mom asked, walking toward my bed, her forehead a mess of concerned squiggly lines.

  “Not really.” I ran a hand down my sweaty face.

  Mom placed a cool hand on my forehead.

  Nick did that once. It felt so nice. So sweet. God, I missed him. Moisture filled my eyes. I closed them.

  “You’re a little warm. Why don’t you stay home and rest again today? I’ll call your school.”

  Without opening my eyes, I nodded. Then I listened to her feet shuffling on the carpet and the soft click of the door as it closed. Dragging the comforter over my head, I pressed it against my face and cried.

  ***

  Once again, social media was not my friend. Insta and Snapchat were filled with pictures from homecoming. An empty, hollow feeling spread through my chest like a disease. Mom and Aunt Kelly had tried to make me feel better, but it was no use. Unlike when Ian cheated on me, this time I welcomed the pain. This time I deserved it.

  I sat in my room lingering over the pictures and allowing the tears to fall. It was therapeutic somehow. As if I needed this release.

  With Ian, I was angry. W
ith Nick, I was sad.

  Reaching out, I fingered the nearby Discman wires, and I closed my eyes.

  My pink nineties dress.

  Poofy hair.

  Nick in his tux.

  Our fingers woven together.

  Him holding me as we danced.

  My eyelids flipped open, the hollow feeling spreading throughout my body until I felt numb everywhere. I lost Nick that night, and now I’d lost him again. But I guess that wasn’t really true, was it?

  I’d never really had him. Not in this lifetime, anyway.

  Did I cause this?

  By going back in time, had I altered the present?

  Maybe. Who knew?

  Sighing, I looked down at my phone again. Nick hadn’t posted any pictures. Brooke hadn’t either. Were they together?

  I heard Nick’s car leave about an hour ago. I couldn’t bring myself to look out my window, but I knew it was him. I’d recognize the distinct sound of his car engine anywhere. He was probably at the dance right now having a blast with whatever girl he brought. They were most likely pressed against each other on the dance floor…

  I jumped when the phone rang in my hand.

  Huh?

  “Ava? I thought you were at homecoming,” I answered.

  “I am,” she replied breathlessly. In the background I could hear girls chattering and the flushing of a toilet.

  “Are you in the bathroom?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Eww.”

  “It’s not like I’m going or anything,” she said. “I already finished.”

  I cringed. “Please tell me you washed your hands before calling me.”

  “Why do you care? It’s not like the germs can reach you through the phone.”

  “You’re right.” I leaned back, my head resting on my bed frame, and sniffed. “Anyway, what’s up?”

  “Nick’s here, and he asked me about you.”

  The air left me like a deflated balloon. I felt dizzy. “What did he ask?”

  “Just wanted to know how you were. He seemed concerned.”

  “He didn’t seem that way when we talked a couple days ago,” I muttered under my breath.

  “He was hurt, Rem.”