Jerk Magnet, The (Life at Kingston High Book #1) Read online

  And now her dad was not only asking her to start over at a new school—where she’d have to learn all over again how to slip beneath the radar—but he was bringing his own picture-perfect “soul mate” into their previously comfortable little world. Really, could life get any worse?

  After nearly a week of serious sulking, in which she’d gotten fairly sick of herself, Chelsea decided it was time to be a good sport. Really, it was pointless to protest since, like so many other things in her life, she had no control over the outcome anyway. Why not just go along with it—or at least pretend to. She consoled herself in thinking that someday she would be an adult and she’d move out on her own, and then she would live life according to her own rules.

  “I really want you in my wedding,” Kate was saying to Chelsea as they ate dinner together. This was Dad’s recovery plan for Chelsea—take her to dinner with her stepmother-to-be and see if he couldn’t get the two females to bond over a chocolate dessert.

  However, they’d been over this I-want-you-in-my-wedding topic several times already tonight, and Chelsea felt certain that she’d made her position completely clear. “Thanks anyway,” she told Kate, “but like I said, I’m just not into that sort of thing. I don’t like standing up in front of a bunch of people.”

  “But it’s going to be a very small wedding,” Kate said.

  Chelsea looked at Dad—like, help!

  He turned to Kate. “You know, I’d love for Chelsea to be in the wedding just as much as you would, sweetie. But only if Chels wants to do it.” He held up his hands. “And it seems that she doesn’t.”

  Kate’s pretty pink lips twisted into a disappointed pout.

  “Sorry, Kate.” Chelsea lowered her eyes as she took a small sip of water. If only this torturous evening could come to a swift and painless end. Suddenly she felt tempted to slip off to the bathroom . . . where she would pull the fire alarm and act completely surprised as the patrons were evacuated from the restaurant—and she could go home.

  Unless Chelsea was imagining things, Kate’s pout suddenly transformed itself into a rather catty smile. She pushed a thick strand of silky blonde hair over a tanned shoulder, then pointed a perfectly manicured shell-pink nail at her soon-to-be stepdaughter. “I think I know what’s troubling you,” she said. She leaned forward, peering intently at Chelsea, studying her closely as if she were taking some kind of inventory. Similar to the way some girls, particularly mean girls, would look at Chelsea at school.

  A prickly heat climbed up Chelsea’s neck and flushed her cheeks. This was her normal reaction to embarrassing situations. She loathed being the center of attention under any circumstances, but feeling like a biology specimen in a public place, especially a restaurant, was way beyond freaky.

  Kate nodded with a knowing expression. “Chelsea, I understand you better than you realize,” she continued. “In fact, I know exactly what your problem is.”

  Well, of course Kate knew what Chelsea’s problem was. Everyone at Chelsea’s school knew what her problem was. Even the guy waiting their table knew what her problem was. She was just plain unattractive, bordering on ugly. To make matters worse, she was painfully shy, along with a bunch of other unfortunate things she’d rather not think about. Seriously, did they really have to discuss this right here and now?

  Chelsea shot her dad another pleading look, but he wasn’t looking at her. No, his eyes were locked onto his gorgeous fiancée’s face, staring at Kate as if totally mesmerized by her loveliness. The phrase “the sun and the moon rises and sets on her” passed through Chelsea’s head. It was obvious Dad was in deep.

  “You simply lack confidence, Chelsea,” Kate stated with absolute certainty.

  Chelsea stopped herself from saying “duh” and rolling her eyes.

  “And I know exactly what you need to get you past this.” Kate gave Chelsea a smug little smile, like she thought she’d just discovered plutonium or the cure for colon cancer.

  It took all of Chelsea’s self-control not to bolt out of the restaurant, or go for the fire alarm. Instead, she took a deep breath and silently counted to ten. Sometimes that worked.

  Kate pointed at Chelsea again. Didn’t she know it was rude to point? “You and I are going shopping tomorrow.” Kate turned to Dad. “That’s okay with you, isn’t it?”

  He shrugged. “If Chelsea wants to.”

  “Because I know how to help her,” Kate told Dad. “If Chelsea will let me, I can help her to change her life.”

  Dad’s brows drew together. “By shopping?”

  Kate laughed. “Well, that and some other things. But she has to trust me implicitly.” She pointed at Dad. “And so do you.”

  He leaned forward, looking intently into Kate’s big blue eyes. “You know I trust you, Kate.” He touched the solitaire ring on her left hand. “How much more could I trust anyone?”

  “Good.” Kate patted his cheek. “And that’s why we’ll be using your employee discount to do some serious shopping tomorrow.”

  He looked interested. “You’re going to shop at our store?”

  “Why not go where ‘designers’ best costs you less’?” She quoted one of the lame advertisement lines of the discount clothing chain that Dad worked for. “How do you beat Best 4 Less?” she chirped. “Combine their already low prices along with your discount—and we’re talking bargains with a capital B.”

  Chelsea couldn’t help but groan. Dad tossed her a warning look. But Kate continued in oblivion. “I couldn’t help but notice the new shipment in the back room when I met you for lunch on Thursday. It should all be on the floor by now. In fact, I’d like to do some shopping myself—with an employee discount.” She winked at Chelsea like they were sharing some special sort of secret.

  Chelsea knew that Kate had managed one of the discount outlet stores until she and Dad began dating, and due to the company’s no-dating policy, Kate had been forced to find a different job. Of course, Chelsea had learned of this—and so much more—only recently.

  “We are going to give you a total makeover this summer,” Kate told Chelsea. “And then we’ll start working on your confidence and self-esteem, which is the real key to beauty.”

  Chelsea shot Dad another look, but she realized she was on her own in this. Clearly in over his head, Dad was too smitten to be of any help.

  “Trust me, Chelsea,” Kate assured her, “by the time you start school in San Jose, you will be a completely new woman.”

  Chelsea experienced a schizophrenic conglomeration of emotions—primarily an enormous pile of extreme humiliation topped with a thin layer of unreasonable hope. Mostly she wanted to come up with a good excuse, any excuse, to escape Kate’s big makeover plan. To her relief, Kate turned her attention back to Dad. As they discussed the boring details of their wedding plans—how they needed to sell their homes, how Kate needed the summer to finish her job, how they needed a time frame for relocating to San Jose, and other miscellaneous plans for the future—Chelsea mentally checked out. She wished she’d brought a book along.

  After dinner, Dad drove Kate to her condo, where he walked her to her door and remained there for exactly seventeen minutes. As Chelsea waited, watching the clock on the console, she wondered what could actually transpire in seventeen minutes . . . or perhaps she didn’t really want to know.

  “Kate said she’ll pick you up at ten tomorrow morning,” Dad said as he pulled out of the parking lot.

  “Oh, I can hardly wait.” She folded her arms tightly across her front, glowering at the street ahead.

  “She just wants to help, Chels.”

  “She wants to make me over, Dad. What does that mean? That I’m not good enough as is?”

  “Of course you’re good enough as is. You’re perfect, honey. You’re smart and kind and generous and thoughtful and—”

  “Just not pretty.”

  “I never said that!” He glanced at her. “I think you’re very pretty. Your eyes, your bone structure, your mouth. Really, you’ve got a lot g
oing on that you don’t even know about. You’re just not one of those shallow foo-foo girls—”

  “You mean like Kate?”

  “Kate’s not like that.”

  “Yeah, right.” She turned away so he couldn’t see her eyes rolling.

  “She’s not like that, Chelsea.”

  “If you say so, Dad.”

  “She’s really not. You just don’t know her well enough yet.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll admit that Kate likes fashion and all that sort of thing, but she’s not shallow or superficial.”

  Chelsea knew enough to keep quiet by now.

  “And Kate’s offer to help you is simply her way of reaching out to you. Naturally, she assumes you’d appreciate some, uh, help. But if you don’t want to go with her tomorrow, I’m sure she’ll understand. Just call her when we get home. Be honest and tell her that it’s not your thing. No one wants to push you into something that’s not you. In fact, I think it’s rather admirable that you’re not into your appearance like that, Chelsea. It shows substance of character.”

  Chelsea wondered if her dad was simply trying to use reverse psychology. It might’ve worked when she was thirteen . . . not so much now.

  “You have to be yourself, Chels.” He continued with his platitudes. “Don’t conform to others. And never ever let anyone force you into their cookie-cutter mold.”

  “You mean like Kate is trying to do?”

  “I honestly don’t think Kate’s trying to do that, honey. I think she simply sees you as a bit, well, insecure in your appearance. She just wants to help you get over it. But it’s obvious that she’s stepped over some sort of line.” He glanced at her. “In fact, if you like, I’ll call Kate myself and tell her that you’ve changed your mind.”

  “Changed my mind?” she asked. “That would infer that I had something to do with the decision in the first place. As I recall, I was kind of railroaded into the whole makeover plan.”

  “Exactly.” He nodded. “And that’s why I’ll call Kate and explain that it’s not such a good idea.” He reached over and patted her knee in a patronizing way. “It’s too much too soon. Besides, I almost forgot, I planned to get a head start on packing. I wanted to go over and pick up some moving boxes tomorrow, and then I want us to get started on the garage. It’s such a disaster area, I’m sure it’ll take us two weeks to get it all sifted down and packed—”

  “I know what you’re doing, Dad.” She let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “Fine, I’ll go shopping with Kate.”

  “Huh?” He looked at her with a surprised expression. “I thought you didn’t want to—”

  “I don’t want to. It’s just the lesser of two evils.”

  Neither of them said anything for a while. Chelsea was feeling a little guilty for acting like such a spoiled brat, so finally she broke the silence. “I’m curious about something, Dad.”

  “Yeah?”

  “What made you fall in love with Kate? Was it because she’s so beautiful?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “It was, wasn’t it? Kate caught your eye and you just couldn’t help yourself, right?”

  “Wrong.” He shook his head. “That’s not how it happened at all.”

  “Right. I’m sure you didn’t even notice that Kate is gorgeous.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. Of course I noticed her. How could I not? I’m sure she caught my eye when she started working for the corporation last fall.”

  “You’ve known her since last fall?”

  “Only professionally. And the truth is I assumed Kate was an airhead at first.”

  “An airhead?”

  He nodded. “Yep. She just seemed too doggone pretty to be able to manage a store. In fact, I even questioned Brad in personnel about hiring her. But he showed me her résumé, and it was impressive. Then I saw Kate in action. I saw the way she worked and interacted with people, and I realized I’d completely misjudged her. She’s smart and thoughtful and kind.” He glanced at Chelsea. “It really is unfair to judge people based on appearances, don’t you think?”

  She let out a loud, nasal sigh, her new substitute for “duh.”

  “Anyway, despite knowing there was more to Kate than I originally assumed, I was still uncomfortable with her looks.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean she was just too beautiful. I’d see other guys gaping at her or fawning over her . . . and it was too weird. I knew I couldn’t handle it. So I stayed away.”

  “You’re telling me you stayed away from her because you didn’t want to be involved with someone that beautiful?” Chelsea was trying to grasp this. Didn’t all guys secretly long for a gorgeous woman on their arm? Wrist candy?

  “Like I said, it made me uncomfortable. Anyway, for a long time I kept a safe distance from her, if you know what I mean. I’d actually see her coming from one way and I’d go the other way just to avoid her.”

  “Why?”

  “Several reasons, probably.” He pulled into their driveway. “For starters, I figured she’d never give someone like me a second glance. Plus she was younger. You know she’s nearly ten years younger than me, but I thought the difference was even greater. So in my thinking, she was out of my league. Too pretty, too young.”

  “Oh, Dad.” Chelsea just shook her head as they got out of the car. “You’re pretty cool for an old dude.”

  “Thanks, sweetie.” He put his arm around her as they walked to the front door. “But besides my personal insecurities, I just didn’t like the idea of getting involved with someone that . . . that beautiful. It just felt wrong.” He unlocked the door, waiting for Chelsea to go inside.

  “Why did it feel wrong?” she asked.

  “It doesn’t make sense now, but I guess I felt like it would make me shallow or superficial.” He tossed his car keys into the wooden bowl by the door. “Besides that, Kate was still working for the company back then. That alone should’ve been enough to scare me off.”

  “So how did you two ever get together then?”

  “Kate would be her usual friendly, outgoing self, and she just started talking to me. I’d be doing a walk-through in the store or checking on something, and she’d come up and just start talking to me like we were old friends. After a while, I began to wish that we were.”

  “Were what?”

  “Old friends.” He sat down in his favorite chair. “So I asked her out for coffee one day, and we just seemed to hit it off.” He picked up the TV remote. “I suppose the rest is history.”

  “One more question.” Chelsea hesitated.

  “Go for it.”

  “What if Kate hadn’t been beautiful?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Would you have fallen in love with her if she’d been ugly . . . or plain . . . or just plain ugly?”

  Dad’s brow creased as if he were seriously considering his answer. “It’s hard to say, Chelsea. I mean, that’s like saying, ‘What if Kate was someone else?’ How do you answer that? To be honest, I like that Kate’s beautiful. I do now anyway. But for the sake of conversation, let’s say something happened to her and she lost her looks.”

  “Okay.” Chelsea watched him closely.

  Dad leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling as though thinking hard. He smiled in a slightly dreamy way. “The truth is I would still love her just as much . . . maybe even more.”

  “Oh.”

  “Any more questions?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Want to watch something?” He held up the remote.

  “Not tonight.” It wasn’t even ten yet, but she feigned a yawn. “I’m kind of sleepy.”

  “Okay.” He turned back to the TV, and she went to her room, closing the door quietly behind her. Then she stood in front of the full-length mirror on the back of her door. Her mom had hung that mirror when Chelsea was going into first grade. The plan had been to help Chelsea in coordinating her outfits
better. Apparently Chelsea had been just as fashion-challenged then as she was now. Eventually, Mom had taken to arranging Chelsea’s outfits for her. Chelsea never minded. She knew some of her friends argued with their moms about clothes, but Chelsea had instinctively known that her mom’s sense of style was superior to her own. After Mom died, Chelsea’s appearance had gone steadily downhill.

  “Don’t worry,” she told her pathetic-looking image, “you will never be loved for your looks.” No, Chelsea was certain she’d never have to second-guess whether a guy was interested in her for the wrong thing. Like a guy would ever be interested in her for anything. Well, except for help with his chemistry or calculus. But she was even pretty good at getting out of that.

  Chelsea tried to see herself as Kate saw her tonight. What made Kate think that there was any hope of changing anything? Chelsea stared at her muddy-brown hair. She’d been trying to grow it out, thinking that if it was long enough to pull back in a ponytail, that would help somehow. But once it got long enough, all she could do was comb the mousy, frizzy curls as straight as possible and tie them back into a tail that looked more like a frazzled mop than anything. But at least it was out of her face. Not that she particularly enjoyed having her face in full view. Although her braces had been gone for more than a year now, her skin still broke out with unsettling regularity.

  In disgust, she turned away from her reflection. It wasn’t something she would ever confess to anyone, but Chelsea could relate to Dracula—she hated mirrors!

  It didn’t take long for Chelsea to see that Kate approached shopping like a sport—make that a marathon. Chelsea should’ve suspected something when Kate handed her a water bottle on their way to the outlet store. “What’s this for?”