Between You & Me (17 page)

The autumn sun is not yet overhead but it looks like you have something of a day planned. You're talking about taking
a picnic up the hill this afternoon—to the highest point around. We used to sit there for hours when we were younger, lying on our backs on the grass on summer nights and looking at the sky. I'm only in a light jacket but it's warm enough for the day, and I wrapped a silk scarf around my neck on the way out the door. It makes me feel grown-up—it's just like one of Mia's. You seem intense today. Something's on your mind. Watching you from the corner of my eye, I get the impression that somehow this day started out more important to you than it did to me.

ME

You all right?

You give me a friendly nod, so I leave it at that.

We pass school on the way to the road up the hill and I skip ahead to the gate, feeling suddenly adventurous. I turn to see if you're feeling it too.

ME

Let's climb the gate like we used to.

Before we were in high school, we would climb over the gate during the summer to play football on the playing fields. We enacted whole sports events, and on this breezy Saturday
for old times' sake
appeals. Plus, being at school makes me feel close to Mia. Most people break out of school, not in, but I feel like peeking at the past from a complex present.

You look less enthused. I wrap my hands around the bars of the gate.

ME

Come on, we've done it before.

You shake your head, crushing my sense of adventure.

YOU

We shouldn't. We'll get in trouble.

Really?!
Trouble!

And we kind of had a plan.

ME

A plan!

—I imitate, not completely unkindly, craving some spontaneity, and I reach for your hand but you ignore it.

YOU

First you forget—

I let my hand drop.

ME

I said I was sorry about that.

YOU

—And now you're acting like we don't already have something to do.

My urge to climb the gate and clear my head by tearing across the grass like we used to is a strong one, and I reach for you one more time but now you really pull back.

ME

You are so cautious, damn it. Just live a little!

I know right away I went too far. You're walking off. And for some reason, today, as if I haven't said enough, I keep talking.

ME

Look! If I'm pissing you off, at least stay and tell me so.

You spin around and I realize you're even angrier than I thought.

YOU

No, Phyre. Because then I might say something hurtful. Like
you
always do.

Stupefied pause. Like I
always
do. I stand uselessly, watching you walk away. This entire interlude has caught me off
guard. I'm not even sure what I was pushing for, and now my heart feels heavy with guilt as you turn out of sight with your carefully packed picnic. How did this go
so
wrong
so
fast? I messed up today before it even started. We've never had a fight before this year, and now here's another. I feel a twist of unease in the pit of my stomach.

Mia, Kate, and I are here for a rehearsal after school. She suggested that the two of us explore emotion memory to help us relate to our characters. My heart shudders at even the idea of spending more time with the thoughts in my head. She sits on the desk in front of us. I look at her fingers curled around its edge and my mind swings from her soft skin to the way you walked away from me on Saturday. We haven't spoken since then. It's been harder to concentrate than I would have expected. My gaze returns to Mia's delicate wrists disappearing into her lilac shirtsleeves. She has patiently waited until she has my full attention.

MIA

Think of someone you have feelings for.

I look at her perfect face, flushing pink. She speaks more quietly than usual without the roomful of people to be heard over, leaning forward, swinging her legs thoughtfully.

MIA

Remember exactly how it feels to be around them.

Hot. Airless. Exhilarating. Cheeks burning, butterflies in my chest, and, underneath it all, pain.

Think of what you're self-conscious about when you want to impress them …

I steal a look at Kate. She's glowing with her own private thoughts of someone and I smile, feeling united by the feeling. I'm sure my own thoughts are playing across my face like a mini–projector screen. I wonder if Mia is thinking of someone, the same warmth spreading through her chest. She tucks her hair behind her ear. She
is
swept up in her own imagination. I watch the split second it takes for her to wet her lower lip before forming words.

MIA

… How it feels when they're close, if they touch your hand, catch your eye. How everything moves slowly around them but time goes so fast.

We sit in silence, thoughts playing behind our eyes. She's talking about my every moment around her. I try to imagine who she has felt this way about, and familiar envy seeps into my bloodstream. She has felt it, of course, everyone has, but I can't imagine anyone could make her feel as vulnerable as she makes me.

MIA

Every emotion you feel around someone you love is heightened.

My thoughts find their way back to you and our untouched picnic, and I realize how true it is. I'm closer to you than anyone else, and you're at the receiving end of every one of my emotions. When I look up, Mia is watching my projector-screen face. She smiles. I blush. Now all that registers on her face is an interest in the thoughts that she can see tinting my cheeks pink.

I'm in a tree. You haven't spoken to me for a few days. I've sent you a gazillion messages but I can see it's going to take more. This is more. I'm sitting in our tree house, my arms wrapped around my knees, waiting. Waiting for you to follow
the path of tea lights that I started at your front door, that lead all the way down the street to my house, down the path, through the garden, and around to the tree house: 708 of them! I've wrapped fairy lights around the tree trunk and draped them through the branches. And I'm sitting in the middle of it all. I've lined the perimeter of our makeshift tree house with tea lights too and have been hoping since I climbed up here half an hour ago that they won't make for a giant bonfire at any moment. Sitting in the middle of my own constellation, I can't imagine how I'll feel if you don't come. That would be a surefire way to humiliate me: make me blow out 708 tea lights. This evening you had a scholarship presentation at school so by my estimation you should just be home and following my twinkling path at this very moment. I strain to see the gate in the dark. Still no sign of you. Five minutes go by. I rest my chin on my knees, remembering the time I snuck into your room and released a jam jar of fireflies when you were asleep. When you woke up, we lay on your bed watching them light up the room. Then we couldn't get them to fly out the window and you were still seeing them days later. At night, they're magical but in the light they're just bugs. I hope this is more successful!

I'm starting to feel cramped and I'm thinking of all the reasons you might not come, all the reasons you might be home late, and my tea lights will be burned-out shells of liquid wax. I've just closed my eyes when I hear your voice:

YOU

You're a fire hazard!

I laugh, relieved. Happy.

ME

That's me. A Phyre Hazard.

I peer down and there you are, your head tipped back to look up at me, hands on your hips. You're all dressed up and you look perfect in my garden of lights, as if you've put on your best outfit just to walk a twinkling path made in your honor, your own red carpet. My “Sorry” speech has gone out of my head so I go with the short version as I reach out and pull you up into the tree beside me, trying not to set you on fire.

ME

Sorry I'm an ass.

YOU

Me too.

I laugh again, heartily, elbowing you gently, but you make a show of nearly falling out of the tree anyway. I reach for your arm and keep hold.

ME

Missed you.

YOU

You did?

And that's it. We're just you and me again.

The weeks, crammed with rehearsals, are flying by. We've spent the afternoon watching in awe as the set has been built. According to Kate, Mia had her heart set on the play despite the complex set, so she brought in a friend: a handsome guy, not much older than she is—annoyingly handsome, the kind of guy described in books as “flashing a smile.” She's been conferring with him attentively for most of the afternoon. Kate has been flirting. He doesn't seem to mind but he talks to us like we're kids and it reminds me how much respect we get from Mia. Kate stands beside me on the balcony above him (believe me when I say that a plumber's crack isn't flattering on anyone) as he straightens up and slips his screwdriver into his tool belt.

MR. HANDSOME

All right, girls? You be careful up there.

Kate and I look at each other but my look says “urgh” and her look says “dreamy!” Flashing a smile, Mr. Handsome
joins Mia, who is waiting at the door of the auditorium, and puts his hand on the small of her back (double “urgh”) as they walk out. I catch your eye, looking up at us from ground level and I do an impression of him. Loading my imaginary tool belt like a gun into a holster, I do my best Wild West walk and blow the smoke from my fingertips before giving you a wink and a finger point.

KATE

Are you crazy, he was gorgeous!

ME

Yeah, and he thought so.

I picture again the way he ushered Mia from the theater before my attention returns to the upside. I look down at his handiwork from above, and it is amazing. Beneath us, for the second half of the play, he's set a swimming pool into the raised stage. The removable floorboards of the Price house come up and this tank will be a glistening pool. The staircase to Lily's bedroom in the first half becomes the balcony over the swimming pool. We've been appointed the task of set painting for the rest of the afternoon—a forte of yours rather than mine—so here we are.

I've started on the shutters on the upstairs windows. Below me, you and Kate are painting the French doors. I'm trying to create the effect of slats on my shutter with a second shade of green as I catch snippets of your conversation. Kate is
talking about a guy she's seeing.
He's in twelfth grade and really hot—
she hasn't mentioned smart. Now she's asking you. You're mumbling something. I pause to hear better, as if my brushstrokes make too much noise. You haven't mentioned anyone to me, and I've asked a million times! Why wouldn't you talk to me if you liked someone? I can keep secrets too. I stick my head over the balcony to glare at you but you're not looking. My glare goes unnoticed and Kate is busy admiring her work. I go back to my shutter, my attention to detail getting hazier by the minute. Next thing I know, you're beside me. I pretend not to see you at first, tilting my head to evaluate my work. Then I huff.