Trespassing

Ava's POV

I was trying my best to chew my food instead of swallowing it whole. It was a little hard since I also had to tell myself: breathe. English was up next and sure enough that little quiz we'd done a week ago was going to be delivered into my hands. I could already see myself having a cardiac arrest.

"Don't look know, but Jenna's cheerleading table is all looking this way!" Marcy's whisper was squeaky making me think of a mouse being crushed to death. Sweet baby… was I being morbid. "They are so unbelievably jealous." She snickered patting my shoulder.

I stabbed a piece of lettuce and tomato. Healthy food—yum; the thing about salads was that I hated them two years ago. I still do, but my mouth barely rebels against the taste now, I guess they were an acquired taste. It wasn't like I ate snail-food every meal, but I had to admit that in school veggies were basically the only things I recognized. I could feel my stomach twist at the thought of mystery meat. Who knew what was in there?

"Things with Jessie must be going well then." I said putting in my usual effort for conversation. I was lucky Marcy was an air-head that talked enough for us both. I smiled and looked pretty.

"Ah, yeah, but that's not why they're staring, dumb-dumb." She chuckled making a high pony that made her look infinitely perky—how was that possible? "They're all staring at you."

I didn't feel any gazes on my back, maybe I was already used to being the center of attention when someone was photographing me. Great, now I'd lost the human ability of knowing when I was being watched… what more was I going to lose? There wasn't much more my parents and the society they wanted me to fit into could rip from me. I couldn't talk about what I loved—it was all about dating, gossiping how fat or ugly some guys or girls were, modeling, Track, Football—it went on. I hated that—what I didn't mind was Track…

"I said don't look," Marcy forced my head to turn to her after I spied a look to see if she was right—she was. I was about to get a lecture on how she knew how to do things and I should follow her lead, but her big eyes widened and I swear she was bouncing. "Jessie's coming here!" Another squeal… I hid a grimace smiling brightly. "How do I look?" What did it matter? I'm sure he'd already seen her.

"Great like always." She pretended to be flattered running a hand through her curly golden hair.

When Jessie sat down a chill ran up my spine. Jenna was not going to like the competition. I had been at this school for two years, my parents made me transfer after my sister died, and I had quickly caught up with the gossip coursing the halls. Jenna and Jessie were a perfect match. They were both blond, blue-eyed; their built were great—they had everything to be Prom King and Queen, until Cole came along and called out Ms. Cheer-of-the-year's attention. She broke up with Jessie but lately, since Cole wasn't paying her any mind, she had turned around. Let's just say it was Jessie-hunting season, only this time, there were two hunters instead of one.

"Hi," Marcy greeted in a sugary tone.

"Hey," They both knew monosyllables. "I've got tickets to a concert tonight." He grinned obnoxiously. I couldn't believe there was someone worst than Thomas—and this guy was only famous inside these walls. "Cold War Kids," he waved the two pieces of paper in her face. "I need a plus one, any idea where I can find someone?"

Marcy scooted closer. Her fingers travelled up his arm, tracing the broad line of his shoulder. Her eyelashes batted. Oh dear God—I made my eyes fall to my leftovers, yes, because after watching this scene I wasn't hungry anymore.

"I'm going to my locker so I can pick up my books." I informed Marcy who was too occupied to answer, or answer even. "Right…" I muttered taking my stuff. As I walked across the cafeteria I tried to keep the usual swagger from happening. All those lessons about catwalk had stuck to my brain like they'd been branded. The looks I got were more than suggestive, from the guys. I kept a small happy smile, though all I wanted to do was yell and say nothing they were seeing was real, then I'd like to crush the heads of a few people—like the guy who had just whistled.

"I liked your dress." My heart plummeted. I just exited an ocean of kids gawking at me, I expected the hallways to be empty. I wanted to have a little me-time. But no, that grace couldn't be given to me.

"I'm glad you did." I tried to bypass the person without looking to it was. I ceased a step when he got in my way purposely. I did my best not to scowl. "Do you want an autograph?" My voice went fake-happy mode.

"No," Cole Carson leant his bulky shoulder on the wall. "A picture lasts longer, doesn't it?" Exactly, so why don't you take one right this second and let me leave? I itched to say that.

"It does," I shifted my lips into a polite smile. He blocked my path again. "Look I need to get to my locker. Say what you want and do it fast." I was this close to snapping, I think I already had a little.

Cole's eyes chased mine. I bit my tongue so I wouldn't flat out say some very unpleasant things to him. I couldn't breathe a bad word to these people; I was someone else here, at home. I couldn't speak my mind, it was like they'd brainwashed me. I couldn't imagine what Trip lived through… the media wrote and talked about him—and other people like him—as they wanted, misinterpreting their words and actions on purpose most of the time.

"Go out with me." He said without missing a beat. Me on the other hand, lost many heart beats—not because I liked this situation. "Tonight, me, you and a movie. What do you say?" Huh. No? My Mom would jump off a cliff if she knew I turned down the new most popular guy in school.

I shifted my Calculus books, chewing the words around in my mouth. I blinked cutting our gaze. Thank you for modern technology! I retrieved my cell from my purse.

"I have to take this." I mumbled not bothering to look at Cole, hoping he'd go away.

"It's fine, I'll wait." He flashed a smile I could feel it.

With a roll of my eyes I perked an eyebrow at who was calling.

"Hey?" I asked taking a couple of steps from Cole.

"You sound—" there was a yawn. "Surprised…"

"That's because I am." All of the times I'd talked to Trip I'd texted him, never called. "And… did you just wake up?" He sounded asleep.

"No, I just had lunch." So did I. "My Mom came home from France two days ago," I read that in People. I hadn't talked to Trip about it—well, I hadn't talked or seen him since my breakdown and our… huh… friendly fest. I wasn't sure what to do around him now. Did I act like popular-Ava or the real-Ava? "She threw a party to announce her return and the start of the spring collection—" he paused abruptly; somehow I knew he was yawning to the side. I smiled. "And it was at our house so the music and chattering didn't let me sleep for more than three hours." Something wanted in me wanted to say 'sorry' but it wasn't even my fault. And since when did I care about Thomas? "How did you sleep?" Since apparently he cared about me.

"Well," I mumbled softly. "So… why are you calling?"

There was a pause on the other side where I could hear Trip's muffled voice and another guy's.

"Sorry," he said with sigh. He cleared his throat then, "Wanna meet up today?" I felt like my heart was going to explode. First Cole asks me out, now Thomas asks me if I want to meet for our therapeutic moment. What was next, a trip to Milan?

"Today?" I whispered doing my best not to look over my shoulder and see if Cole was keeping to his word, I sure hope not.

"Yeah, what time do you get out?" After four… I had practice.

"I have Track today, so after four."

"You're in shape. Skip it." He taunted making me smile because of the compliment, and then I shook my head.

"I can't skip, the coach will be angry if I do." Sure Trip didn't have to worry about people having great expectations for him, but I had to live up to a huge number of them.

Thomas snorted.

"Stop worrying so much, the wrinkles will stay away longer if you do and you might live a lot longer." There he was with his dismissive behavior, couldn't he understand I had a lot on my plate? Even more now, that Mr. Popularity was knocking on my door. "If you say 'yes' you'll have a nice surprise." What paparazzi following him around, snapping photos so my Mom and everyone else could find out? No, no way.

"No, I can't—I won't skip. That's final."

"Okay, how about after practice?" He sounded slightly disappointed to have to move his offer down the time slots.

"After…" I peeked over my shoulder, yep. He was still there. "Afterwards I'll be too tired and… I have a lot to study. So, no."

"But—"

"No means no, Trip." I hissed before hanging up. I thrust the Nokia into the Mulberry purse. Taking a short, deep breath, I spun on me heel knowing what I had to do. Cole was surveying our surroundings with mild disinterest—when I reached him his eyes snapped to mine. "What time?" I tucked a hair behind my ear, smiling flashily and tried not to be sick with myself.

"Awesome," he winked a brown eye. "I'll pick you up at eight—"

"Can I meet you at the movies? It's better for my schedule." And if it turned out that I hated him—as I think I did—my Mom would never have to know I had a date with him.

"Sure, whatever works for you." He winked departing into the lunch room. As I watched him from behind, I didn't see the appealing in all that exaggerated muscle built, the sheer broadness of his shoulders—why did I have to go out with a guy who reminded me of an ape? At least he had an attractive face.

On the way to my locker I thought about the wink Cole gave me, then, out of nowhere, Thomas sapphire eyes showed up and I saw him winking at me—not once, but twice. I gulped suddenly. Why did I feel get a… a chill in the back of my neck? The kind of chill you felt in a hot summer day. It left me rattled with myself. Trip had been nice to me that day at the office and I took advantage of his comfort. Ultimately, Thomas was the one who I could tell about my lie of a life. That was all. Then why did I feel guilty…? Like I had just turned down something more important than a date with the hot quarterback? The only answer I could find was loneliness. I had been in need for someone to talk to for so long and now that I had one, I was sending them away. But I couldn't skip. I was lonely, that was why I felt this way. There was nothing more to it.

Trip's POV

I shoved the phone into my backpack before moving into the room with the rest of the cattle—I mean, the rest of my fellow students—whoops. I moved to the back happily. Dropping into my regular seat by the window I braced my head against the cool window. I stared outside. Today was a normal spring day, nothing like the last few rainy days we'd had. I drummed the rubber edge of my pencil on the table tamp. One, two, three…

"You look pissed." Not only that, I looked like I'd spent the whole night awake… which I kinda had. "Something happen?" You know when you save a puppy and then he follows you around? Well, I didn't save a puppy, but it was darn close to one. Finn hadn't left me alone since I shook Christian and his buddy from his case. He kept talking to me about things I didn't care, other things I tolerated and I guess he'd made me laugh once or twice—our relationship wasn't all bad. It wasn't like I hated the kid, I didn't. It was probably the only person I'd have a conversation with.

"More like something didn't happen." I muttered.

My relationship with Ava, on the other hand, seemed to regress. It was like we took one step forward and then made two steps back. Okay, I shouldn't have forced her to skip—but I'd dropped it. She didn't even let me tell her where we'd go. I sighed slumping into the chair. I understood why she didn't want to skip, her parents would get angry. I didn't want that, not after what I saw the other day. Acting like someone you didn't want to be was awful.

"Huh," Finn muttered. "Did you do that essay on Milton?" I scratched my shaved chin. It was the first thing my Mother said when she saw me: shave. "Trip?"

"Paradise Lost, yeah, what about it?" I crossed my arms when Mr. Phil started the roll call.

Finn shook his head holding up a paper with printed writing.

"The biography on Milton, did you do it?" Oh, that. We were supposed to quick off with Paradise Lost in the next week, so our youthful English teacher made us do a report on its writer. John Milton. I didn't understand the reason for this piece of homework, the biographies would all have the same thing—why did he ask for this?

"I did." Of course I'd done it. I copied the details off the web and wrote them with my own words, but it didn't change the fact that the information it held would be the same Finn's did. "What a waste of time that was." I lifted my hand when my name was called out so the short man saw where I was.

We began discussing Milton's poetry, his convictions and beliefs. We covered his love for freedom, the deep self-determination and even if his greatest work—the epic poem Paradise Lost reflected his despair, the fail of the Revolution mixed with the affirmation of optimism in human potential. Half the way into the Miltonic effects, my side got lightly jabbed. I archived in my brain what Mr. Phil was preaching about inversion of the natural order of words—wasn't that an anastrophe?

"What?" I turned to Finn who slipped a prospect into my hands. I made a face. "What's this?"

The lanky shoulders slumped for a moment. You would think I was committing a crime for asking. Finn finally breathed a new fresh mouthful of air, recovering from the dazed disappointment.

"It's a horror movie that premiers today—it's off the hook." I chose not to comment on his excitement. "You have to come with me. I got two tickets—one was for my brother but he had to go with his girlfriend to LA, I think he's going to meet her parents…" He mused in the side-lines. "Anyway, he can't go. Do you want to?" He showed me the tickets in his wallet. I scratched the scar above my eyebrow—that had become a habit. "Come on, man, it has everything a horror movie should have—suspense, a creepy house, supernatural stuff, the hot-blond-bimbo who always dies first?"

Yeah, everything a cliché horror flick needed. I pressed down a chuckle.

"Okay," I said simply. "I like horror movies, so… okay." I elaborated like he couldn't believe it would be that easy. I did like those types of movies, but it wasn't the only reason why I was going. Now that my Mother was back it meant a bigger affluence of girls would knock on my door. I had to be out as much as possible so they didn't catch me so easily, or that my Mom didn't.

I would've preferred to spend the afternoon with Ava or even after, but there was always the risk of being camera-spotted. I got the idea she wasn't alright with it. Even people who weren't tied with the media would start up gossip if they saw us together. The weirdest thing was that I knew all this—but there was a still in a corner in my mind yelling for me to call her again. A part of me wanted to be with her, to see her, talk to her—just the two of us. I should know better, though, the two of us would never be more than this. A tug-and-pull, I didn't know what I wanted to be with her—friends, I guess. Her schedule made it hard, and I think she wanted to keep me away while I couldn't forget she existed for one single minute. I wanted to take her to a quiet place with a view she'd like. I don't know what the hell compelled me to be that thoughtful with her, I just was. I think the only quiet, peaceful time with Ava was the one in my dreams, not that I'd dreamed of her.