Discovering Tess

By Renae Oakes

Tess is invisible—and not the cool superpowers kind. No one can remember her name, let alone acknowledge her existence. Including the gorgeous, unattainable Dean Thomason.
But this summer that's about to change when an unfortunate misunderstanding launches Tess into instant popularity—and Dean's affections.
Tess will embark on a journey of self-discovery filled with new experiences; a new job, a new love, new mysteries, and an unlikely friendship with a brooding girl with blue-tipped hair. But when Tess's popularity comes crashing down around her, will her quirky friends and family be able to show Tess how perfect she already was? Or will it be too late...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Renae Oakes
• Release date: Sep 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311233943

Book preview

Discovering Tess

Renae Oakes

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Copyright 2014 by Renae Oakes

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author.

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Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. The characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to actual persons, places, or events is coincidental.

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Acknowledgements

Thank you Mom, DeLancey, Dad, Rhiannon, Jenny, and Ellie for letting me bounce my crazy ideas off of you, and for your brutal honesty. Thank you for believing in me and my dream. This book would not have been accomplished without your unwavering support.

Special thanks to my amazing writing group for their critiques and feedback. It’s nice to have comrades in this unpredictable business we call writing.

Thank you to my editor, Diane Piron-Gelman, for improving the quality of my story. I appreciate your hard work.

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Dedication

For Banana, Bookey, and Hot Mama

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Discovering Tess

Chapter One

Three things determined my fate: a car, a jar of tomato sauce, and a quarter.

The day started mundane enough. The doors closed on my freshman year of high school, and the boredom of summer hung around me like a haze—and it had only been two weeks!

I had already watched every episode of my favorite television show and run out of ideas to entertain myself. So without any further distractions, I contemplated my presence in high school, or lack thereof. In all actuality there was only one person I wanted to make an impression on… Dean Thomason.

At the end of the school year, I was just the stringy brunette in pep band with the hot cheerleader sister. I faded easily into the background and most students, including teachers, called me Bess instead of Tess. The only positive outcome was the removal of my braces, which was a relief. I’d had to endure two miserable years of Bernie Hubble calling me ‘Silvertooth’. Now he just called me ‘Legs’, which is a testament to his lack of creativity.

Bernie loved to make rude and ignorant comments in regards to my height. I mean, I was tall, but not freakishly gigantic. Bernie would spout ridiculous comments and a cluster of people would laugh, including Dean Thomason, who was usually swarmed by giggling blondes. Once my face turned the color of a cherry tomato, Dean would say, Come on Bern, leave Bess alone. And everyone would obey him, like the god he was. As they walked away, Dean would flash me his dazzling white smile. Every time, I reacted the same way. It’s Tess, I’d mumble stupidly, my knees buckling at the sight of his toothy grin.

This year things would be different. Dean Thomason would finally notice me. Heck, I was going to make the whole school stand up and take notice. Well, mostly Dean…

I chewed on the end of a curl while I flipped through one of my sister’s magazines, still pondering how I was going to change things around, when the solution to my teenage woes finally dawned on me. There on the page was a blonde, the embodiment of beauty, sprawled across the hood of a very expensive car. She was positioned in a suggestive manner, and a group of muscular men gaped at her in amazement. This, I thought, was the definition of cool.

A car. How perfectly simple. This would elevate my status from geek to chic. My sixteenth birthday was mere weeks away, and with Driver’s Ed completed I’d be one of the few sophomores sporting hot new wheels come September. Wouldn’t Dean find an independent girl able to drive herself around attractive? Sure, he would. At least, that’s what I told myself.

Normally, the thought of driving terrified me. If I could, I would use public transportation until the day I died, but if I wanted to stand out amongst the masses, a car was my ticket to some recognition. With wheels I’d be more than just Babs’ weird little sister with frizzy hair.

I’d found my action plan for the summer. Now all I needed was to get my parents on board.

Pans rattled downstairs, the sound drifting up from the kitchen. Mom was canning her legendary tomato sauce, but its infamous reputation stemmed from how utterly terrible it tasted. If she’s making preserves, that means she’s feeling productive, I murmured, then clicked my tongue and contemplated my odds. Usually, that means she’s in a good mood…

I decided now was my chance.

I bounded down the steep wooden steps, my bare feet pounding against the worn pattern in the wood. The living room and dining room blurred past me as I swung the kitchen door open with a resonating thud.

Tess? Mom looked up from the sink, drops of red sauce splattered on her pink polka dot apron. Where’s the fire?

I, uh, I stammered. Shizbuckets! I should have thought of a cover story before deciding to confront her. Need help? I asked, trying to recover.

Mom squinted at me for a moment. She definitely suspected something, but she must have decided to go with the free labor, and pointed toward the cutting board.

Smells good in here, I said, trying to sound chipper, but my voice cracked on the word ‘good’. In actuality, the kitchen had the gagging odor of dirty feet. She should really stop making her tomato concoctions.

But now wasn’t the time for criticism.

Mom arched an eyebrow in my direction. Cut up the horseradish. She handed me a knife.

Is this a new recipe? Bet it’ll taste great. I tried not to breathe in the smell of the wrinkled white vegetable in front of me. Honestly, why she thought this would add to the flavor was beyond my comprehension.

Mom turned to face me with her hands on her hips. Cut the crap, Tess, what do you want?

Does a girl need a reason to help her mother in the kitchen? I batted my eyes at her.

Yes, especially when you and your sister usually avoid my cooking like the plague. So spit it out. What you’re after, not my food.

I let out a long breath, conjuring up some form of courage. Well… I studied the black granite counter tops. I’ve been thinking about school.

Silence filled the kitchen.

I decided this was a good sign and continued. Yeah, and I’ve been thinking about driving.

Really. Mom sounded surprised, but in a good way. I decided it was now or never.

I want a car to drive to school.

Then the strangest thing happened. Mom threw her head back and her shoulders started shaking. From anger, I thought at first, but it was much worse than that. She was laughing.

A car? she said between giggles. Really, you? You didn’t even like Driver’s Ed and now you want drive to school? You hit a bird and ran over the hydrangea bushes in Mrs. Kleppe’s yard.

In my defense, the bird was the one who hit my windshield, I said. Mom kept laughing at the memory. I chose to forget it, just like all my other driving disasters. My face burned and my voice rose an octave trying to explain my plight. Well, now that I’m getting older and taking on more responsibility...

Tess, you can hardly count walking Mrs. Pearce’s mini-poodle once a day for fifteen minutes a huge endeavor. Besides, how would you make car payments from the five dollars she pays you a week?

This floored me. Pay? That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I was just kind of expecting you and Dad to buy the car.

The comment popped out of my mouth before my brain filtered the content. I should have just said I would ask Mrs. P for a raise. That would have been the responsible answer.

Tess! Mom’s blue eyes bugged out of her head.

You and Dad bought Babs a car when she turned sixteen. Why not me? I couldn’t believe I was pulling the Babs-is-the-favorite card, but my options were dwindling.

That was different. Babs had play practice and cheerleading. Besides, she kept her good grades and your father and I knew it wouldn’t distract her. Mom avoided my gaze and scrubbed at invisible spots on the counter with a ragged kitchen towel.

I couldn’t believe they would throw my grades in my face. Granted, mostly B’s peppered my report card and my parents thought that was just as bad as flunking.

Of course Babs gets everything she wants, and I’m reduced to grovelling for scraps,