37 Things I Love (In No Particular Order) (12 page)

“Sure.” Not.

We pull into my driveway.

“Thanks for the ride.” I reach for the door handle.

“Hey,” he says, laying his hand on my arm. My heart pounds in anticipation. “So, I’ll pick you up Friday?”

I breathe. “Yeah. Great. See you then.”

He smiles, and I vault out of the car. I hurry up the driveway, feeling very relieved that he didn’t try to kiss me.

25

The Last Days of School

I can’t wait for it to be over.

IT’S OFFICIALLY
the last half week of school, and today is Yearbook Day. The peppy posters are up everywhere, reminding us each to pick up our own glorious copy before the day is out. I groan as I stroll up the sidewalk toward the building.

I don’t even want to go inside. I duck around the corner, to the parking lot side of the building, away from the front doors. The rough bricks feel good against my back. Cars pull in and out of the parking lot, dropping people off, while others zoom into parking spaces. A couple of seniors are sneaking a smoke on the side lawn, glancing furtively around like they’re spies or something.

I could skip, I guess. All it would take is a few steps to the side, then a few more, until I got across the street to where the public bus stops. It’s never more than a fifteen-minute wait. I could be anywhere by the time the homeroom bell rings.

But I don’t go, and now my chance is over. Evan’s Jeep pulls into the lot; he and Cara hop out. That gets me moving. I edge my way back around the corner, blending into the flock headed for the front doors.

The yearbook tables are right inside the atrium. It’s a wash of electric blue—a high wall of spines, with covers to match. A perky blond girl with a high ponytail checks names off the list. I think she’s a cheerleader. Or if she isn’t, she should be. I snatch a copy and give her my name.

She marks me down with a flourish and grins. “Enjoy!”

“Mmm-kay!” I mimic her cheery tone, bouncing my head side to side. Her smile seems genuine, even though I’m mocking her. She’s probably nice enough. I smile back.

I deliberately do not look for my picture as I head toward my locker.

*   *   *

ABBY’S LOCKER
is across the hall from mine and down a bit. I see her coming out of the corner of my eye, but I spin the dial on my locker and pretend not to notice.

The hall is crowded and not at all quiet. Maybe I’m just attuned to her, because I hear her gasp over and above the noise. I can’t help it. I turn in time to see her glancing side to side down the hallway, cheeks quivering like she’s about to burst out crying. She gapes into her locker and claps a hand over her mouth.

I move toward her automatically, parting the crowd with my shoulder. From somewhere close by, a guy’s voice starts singing, “Shake, shake, shake.”

Abby kind of jerks her head toward the sound. The first voice is joined by another. “Shake, shake, shake.”

I come up close behind her, close enough to see over her shoulder. Strewn across the bottom of her locker is a mess of Jell-O Jigglers and humongous bras.

Several members of the wrestling team emerge from the gathering crowd.

“Shake, shake, shake. Shake your boobies,” they chant. The hallway erupts with laughter as they repeat the chorus.

Abby flees the scene. She charges through the crowd and disappears into the girls’ bathroom.

“You fucking assholes!” I shout at them, tearing after her. They laugh uproariously.

At the edge of the crowd, I brush by Colin, craning his neck to get a look at the commotion. “What the hell—” he says.

“Just leave it,” I bark at him, racing into the bathroom.

Abby’s crouched on the floor beneath the paper towel dispenser, bawling. Not that I blame her. I ease down next to her, and she leans her head on my shoulder. The girls at the sinks just go about their business, applying lip gloss or whatever, occasionally glancing out the corner of their eyes to see who’s melting down today.

“Dennis. I can’t believe he told everyone,” Abby wails. “I hate him.”

“Um, maybe he didn’t,” I say. I have to tell her. I don’t know how I thought I could avoid it.

“Of course he did,” she sobs. “How else would they all know? It’s the wrestlers.” She waves her hands, and the tears get worse.

“Yeah, but … he wasn’t … I mean, I think other people saw, too.”

“What are you talking about?” She sniffs. I reach up and ratchet down a waterfall of paper towels. She blows her nose.

“Um … I heard that, maybe, you might have done a … sort of dance.”

“What?” Abby exclaims, leaping to her feet. “There’s no way I did that.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

She paces, silent. “I remember making out in his car,” she says. “Oh, God.” She covers her face with her hands.

“Sorry,” I say.

Her head snaps up. “You knew all along?” she says. “You knew that they knew, and you didn’t tell me? You let me come here like nothing happened!” She lurches forward like she’s gonna kick me, or hit me or something, but I flinch and jump to my feet, and all she does is pound the paper towel dispenser with the open palm of her hand.

“How could you?” she shrieks.

“Hey, it’s not my fault!” Anger bubbles up inside me, from someplace deep. I will not let her put this on me.

“Yes, it is,” she says, hands on her hips. “Why weren’t you there? You were supposed to keep an eye on me. You should have stopped me.”

“That is not my job or my interest. Don’t confuse me with Colin.”

“I can’t believe you let this happen.” Abby steams on. “The wrestlers! I danced in front of
everybody
?” She’s screaming now, and it hits me like a punch in the throat. But I get it. She can’t handle being at fault, needs to be mad at someone she can yell at. Fine.

I take a deep breath. Somewhere in me is a pool of calm. I let myself sink into it. “I’m sorry this happened to you. But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, you tell yourself that,” she says.

The warning bell rings, marking the end of the fight. At least, this round.

“I have to get to class,” I say.

26

Love Itself

It doesn’t look like I thought it would. But it’s going to be interesting.

WE LEARNED
in class that when a nuclear bomb goes off, there’s a cloud that forms over the top of everything, a giant mushroom of dust and radiation that keeps on poisoning you, as if getting blown up wasn’t bad enough to begin with.

Well, we’re in it now. The mushroom cloud.

I load up my lunch tray until it’s full to overflowing. The plan: keep my mouth full as much as possible so I cannot be called upon to comment. On anything.

I take a deep breath and emerge into the fray, headed for our usual table. The whole long length of it is empty except for where Abby sits, arms slack, with her head upon the table. Colin approaches her at breakneck pace, balancing two trays of food. Leave it to him to serve Abby in her hour of need.

Two tables away, Evan waves me over to the wrestlers’ table.

I am torn. Abby: best friend or today’s pariah? Evan: savior of the hour or he who may try to feel me up?

Compromise: I’ll blow by Evan’s table and then go try to patch it up with Abby. I shouldn’t have walked out on her. Later, when this whole day blows over, she’ll forget what we said in the bathroom. It won’t matter whose fault she thinks it was. It’ll all be past.

“Hey,” Evan says as I draw near. “Pull up a chair.”

“No, thanks. I gotta check on Abby.” Besides, I’m feeling none too kind toward the wrestling team today.

“I figured, but—”

“I don’t want to talk right now,” I say. “I can’t believe what you guys did.”

“Wait, it wasn’t all of us, okay?” He shakes his head vehemently. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. Dennis wants Abby to know he didn’t have anything to do with the locker thing. Scott and Todd started it.”

“And that’s supposed to make her feel better?”

Evan frowns. “Well, yeah. He still wants to take her to the dance. Will you see if she’ll go?”

“Whatever.”

“C’mon.” He puts a hand on my waist, real familiar, and gives my side a little squeeze. “We can double.”

“Okay, I’ll ask her.”

After today, Abby owes me big time.

I start to walk away, but turn back. “Hey, Evan, did you happen to tell Cara about us going to the dance?”

He looks puzzled. “No. Why would I?”

“No reason.” I smile, strangely and immensely relieved.

*   *   *

I DROP INTO
the seat beside Colin, offering a deep sigh to the table.

From the other side of him, Abby lifts her head long enough to say, “Why were you talking to Evan Horton?”

“Um … he asked me to the graduation dance.”

Colin looks up from behind a mound of deep-dish pizza. “Really?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” I say, frowning. Though I’m not sure why he shouldn’t. It surprises the hell out of me.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

Abby glares up at me. “But … he’s a wrestler.”

“So? He wasn’t in on the locker thing.”

Abby moans, dropping her head again. Her tray of pizza looks untouched. Never fear, Colin will take care of that.

“And neither was Dennis, Evan said. I guess he reamed out the other guys pretty good for that. And apparently he wants to know if you’ll still go to the dance with him.”

“I’m never speaking to Dennis. Ever again,” Abby says.

“None of us will,” Colin says.

I know what I’m supposed to say. Something along the lines of
solidarity, sister.

“I don’t care about Dennis. He’s a jerk. But I already told Evan I would go. Anyway, you’re the one who wanted me to find a date in the first place.”
And now I’m stuck with it, and I’ll be damned if I’m the only one.

“Yeah, well, that was before. Now we can’t go. Obviously.”

“So find another date,” I say. “It’s not like there’s a shortage of good-looking senior guys around here.”

“But Dennis is the hottest,” Abby cries. “And everyone good got matched up this weekend. Only pathetic loser types won’t have a date by now.”

Colin shovels a slice of pizza into his mouth so fast and for so long that I think he’s trying to eat it all in one bite. If he keeps this up, he’ll either choke or pass out.

“Oxygen,” I say, nudging his shoulder. “The body needs oxygen.” He lowers the pizza; I watch his nostrils flare twice before I shove back from the table and stride away.

*   *   *

WHY DID I SAY
yes to Evan?
Mistake, mistake. Danger, danger! Steep cliff ahead.

The thing is, it’s going to look to Cara like I lied. Despite whatever weirdness happened between us, I don’t want her to hate me. I have to tell her, have to do it now. I have to let her know it was just a mistake, before she hears it from him, or someone else, or sees a picture, or another of the hundred things that could cause the beans to spill.

I find Cara sitting on the same outside stoop where I found her before. Her sketch pad’s open on her knees, her pencil skimming back and forth, and her head bent over it like if she leans far enough into her art, she can leave this whole mess of a life behind her.

The sun shines toward her, and in the light she looks kind of glorious. It frames her, makes her glow around the edges. Beautiful, but totally alone.

I stand at the foot of the stairs until she notices me.

“Hi.”

Long pause.

“I wish we hadn’t had a fight,” she says, shading her eyes from the sun.

“Me too.” And there’s nothing I can say about Evan that won’t make it worse.

“Yeah.”

“I thought we could be friends again,” I say.

“I want to be friends,” she says quickly. “I’m sorry. Really.”

I start to climb the stairs. I think maybe I’m going to sit beside her. I think maybe I’m going to put my arm around her. We’ll see what happens next.

“What are you doing talking to
her
?” Abby says from behind me.

I freeze. Half turn.

“I need you right now. And you’re out here.” She tosses me a look of disgust, which pales in comparison to the one that follows, to Cara.

“I’m thanking her for driving us home on Friday.” The lie is out before I even decide to tell it.

Cara’s expression slams shut.

Abby kind of flinches at the reminder. “Oh, yeah,” she says bitterly. “Well. Thanks.”

“Oh, anytime.” Cara’s voice overflows with sarcasm.

Abby hardens her glare for two seconds, then she dismisses the whole scene with a flick of her eyes, away.

“C’mon, Ellis. Let’s go.” Abby strikes out across the lawn, so certain I’m going to follow her that she doesn’t even look back.

Cara sits frozen, maybe just waiting to see what happens. I don’t even realize I’ve moved until she sighs, and I’m looking up at her from one step lower.

“You’ll always choose her, won’t you?” Cara murmurs from above.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe.”

A little flame burns in her eyes. “It was fun while it lasted, Ellis.”

The slight scratching sound resumes. Her pencil on the page. I back down the steps and start moving away.

“How hard did you try?” I say as my feet hit grass again.

Her pencil pauses. “What?”

“How hard did you try back then? To stay friends with me.”

She glares. “Don’t try to act like it’s my fault.”

“Yeah? Well, then don’t put it all on me, either. Maybe you didn’t try hard enough.”

“Maybe I didn’t,” she says. “But at least I tried.”

“Yeah?” I cross my arms, waiting.

“Do you really want to know?”

I nod. Cara lays her pencil on the pad. Her forehead creases, and she opens her mouth as if to say something thoughtful. I wonder how long I can stand here before Abby misses me and comes storming back to retrieve me from Cara’s grip. I glance over my shoulder, but there’s no sign of her.

When my head comes back around, Cara’s expression is utterly changed. She’s swallowed whatever she was going to say and replaced it with a bitter, spitting silence.