Make It Count (20 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

I
WANT TO
eat candy and watch football with you while we make jokes about tight ends.

The voice reading the text on her phone sounded nothing like Alec’s, but Kat could picture his eyes sparkling, his full lips sounding out the words.

It was Friday of spring break and this was the fifth text message she’d received. They’d started Monday. Yesterday’s was,
Despite what you think, I bet you look hot in yellow.

She had no yellow shirts, but she dug a yellow bra out of the bottom of her drawer and wore it. Just for Alec.

She loved the texts. They warmed her heart and made her laugh. But she still hadn’t heard the words she wanted to hear from him.
I’m sorry. You don’t need fixed. I see you
.

Until then, she had to stay focused on forgiving herself. On seeing herself.

On loving herself.

“Ready to go?” Tara asked as she pulled a T-shirt down over her head.

In a moment of lunacy, Kat had agreed to try running. After she told Tara everything—about her possible dyslexia and fight with Alec, she’d been near collapse with stress. Tara had shoved a pair of leggings and T-shirt at her and told her to grab her earbuds and mp3 player.

“Running has a way of clearing out the clouds so nothing’s hiding in shadow,” she’d said.

Kat mumbled something about sunscreen but she’d changed and now she stood uncertainly in the middle of their room, shifting from foot to foot on rarely used sneakers. The last time she’d worked out regularly was in ninth grade. She had a gym membership and quit after she contracted ringworm from the locker room.

And Tara had finished her marathon the previous weekend with a great time. Kat figured the least she could do is get off her sorry butt and run with her friend.

Tara glanced over at her as she tied her shoes. “We’ll go easy okay? A slow jog.”

They started out on a path that looped around campus. Tara said she didn’t like to talk while running, so Kat shut her mouth and turned on her playlist she’d made special, really quickly just for the run.

Britney’s breathy voice rolled into her ears and Kat eased into the rhythm of the run. Beside her, Tara shot her a thumbs-up and Kat returned it.

March was a toss-up in Maryland. Some years, the month dumped a last blizzard on them. Other years, tulips began to poke through the ground in response to warm temperatures.

This was a tulip year.

As her feet pounded the pavement, Kat’s mind did clear. Maybe it was the music in her ears or maybe it was because the physical act focused her, disallowing distractions. Because all of the tasks she hoped to accomplish next week didn’t seem so daunting anymore. Her appointment with the learning center on campus was first thing Monday. And she’d made an appointment with her advisor on Wednesday to talk about declaring her major.

The thought of being on the “other side,” standing in front of a group of students, as the teacher and not the “teachee” was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

And then there was Alec  . . .

She shook her head and blew out a harsh breath, following Tara around a bend in the path. Tara smiled over her shoulder and Kat smiled back. This running thing wasn’t so bad. If she ignored the stitch in her side.

When they got back to their apartment, Kat braced herself with her hands on her knees as Tara opened the door. “So, how was it?”

Kat followed her roommate in and shut the door behind her. “You were right. Running has a way of bringing out the sun, doesn’t it?”

Tara grinned. “Told you.”

After their showers, Tara waved Kat over to her bed. “Sit down. I want to show you something.”

Kat flopped on the bed, comfortable in pajama pants and an oversized T-shirt Alec had left at her house. God, she was pathetic.

“Why do you run?” Kat asked.

Tara pulled her laptop on her lap and opened it up, a chime sounding from the speakers as it woke up. She twisted her lips. “Well, I like feeling physically fit. And it was something I could do that didn’t cost any money. I mean, just a pair of sneakers and I could take off. You know I live with a bajillion people. When I’m running, I can hear myself think. I’ve worked out so many of my problems while running.”

Kat picked at the frayed hem of the T-shirt. “That makes sense.”

“Thanks for that, by the way,” Tara gestured to her ceiling above her bed. Kat had cut out “26.2” in posterboard and sequined the crap out of it with a glue gun. It was tacky and gaudy, but Tara laughed so hard when she saw it.

Kat shrugged. “It was fun.”

Tara pulled up Skype and a dial tone rang out in the room. “So, I’m calling Amy. She wants to show you something.”

Kat leaned forward and looked at the screen. “Oh really?”

The call connected and Amy’s vibrant, six-year-old smile filled the screen. She waved, her movement blurry and too fast for the program. “Hi Kat!”

Kat waved back. “Hey sweetie!”

Amy’s hair was pulled back into a bun held in place by a pink ribbon. Her lips looked redder, like she wore lipstick, and then she stepped back from the screen so Kat could see her whole body. She twirled and her pink skirt swirled around her hips and thighs. Kat had worn that same skirt long ago.

“Hot stuff! Looking good,” Kat beamed.

“Go ahead, Amy.” Tara turned to Kat and whispered, “She wanted to thank you herself, for the lessons.”

“But I didn’t—“

Tara elbowed her and she shut up.

Amy stopped her twirling. “This is what I learned so far.” She pulled over a chair and held onto the back of it, like it was a barre. The she brought her heels together, little brows furrowed as she bent her head and watched her feet. Then she looked up, beaming. “First position!”

“Excellent!” Kat squealed. “Now make sure you keep your knees straight.”

Amy immediately complied. “Better?”

Kat gave her a thumbs-up.

Then Amy spread her legs, toes pointed out. “Second position!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful form, Ames.”

The little girl smiled as she completed third, fourth and fifth position. Then she ended with a plié, her arm movement fluid and very well done for a six-year-old. When she finished, she blushed while Kat and Tara whooped and clapped.

“If I was there, I’d be throwing flowers onto your stage, Ballerina Amy,” Kat said.

Amy took another hesitant plié and then sat down in front of the computer. “Thank you, Kat.”

It was amazing how watching Amy show her the things she learned was all the thank you Kat needed.

The knowledge that something she’d done, no matter how small, had a made a positive impact on this little girl’s life filled her heart. And she knew she wanted that feeling again and again.

“You’re welcome, sweetie,” Kat said, her voice thick.

After they said their good-byes and Tara shut down her computer she looked at Kat. “Are you finally starting to see yourself the way we all see you?”

Kat nodded. “I think I am.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

T
HE NEXT DAY,
Kat stood outside of Danica’s door, wringing her hands.

Even though she’d initially been angry that Danica and Alec had talked about her behind her back, she now had the perspective that the whole situation had opened her eyes. She owed Danica a thank-you. And maybe part of her wanted to fish to see if Danica knew anything about Alec. The day’s text had said,
I want to lay in bed with you and eat non-soggy PB & J sandwiches.

She knocked and after some muffled muttering, Danica flung the door open. She was surprisingly casual, in a pair of black sweatpants and pink camisole. No wig. Surprise flashed over her face, then she smiled. “I knew you’d come around. Just thought it would take you longer than a couple of days.”

Kat’s eyes drifted over Danica’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Stone isn’t here.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, you were.” Danica left the door open and turned to walk back into her apartment. “Come in.”

Kat took a deep breath and followed Danica, shutting the door behind her. In the kitchen, Danica was scooping cookies onto a cookie sheet. Every five or so, she plopped a hunk of dough in her mouth. Kat wondered if her cookies were as good as Max’s.

Danica dropped her cookie scoop in the batter bowl and slid the cookie sheet in the oven. She set the time and turned to Kat, drumming hot pink nails on the counter. “So, I want to apologize. Alec told me about the e-mail, and I’m really sorry. I don’t even remember how it happened, but Alec and I were talking about tutoring you, and then he mentioned some things, and since my dad has dyslexia, I mentioned it to him.”

Kat sat down at the stool at the counter and swiped her finger along some batter at the top of the bowl, then stuck her finger in her mouth. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not angry with you. In fact, I wanted to say thank you.”

“Oh?”

“Well, long story short, I have an appointment with the learning disability center on campus Monday to get tested.”

The nails continued their drumming and Kat shifted. Maybe Alec had already visited Danica, to tell her all about the situation.

“Did Alec already tell you all of this?”

Danica shook her head. “Honestly, no. He said he went to visit you and that you had a disagreement. No other details were given despite my threats.”

“Really?”

“I solemnly swear. You going to tell me what happened?”

“Do you promise not to talk to him about this? Because I don’t . . . I’m not trying to test him but I’d really like him to figure out why he hurt me on his own.”

Danica swiped some batter, rolled it into a ball and popped it into her mouth. “I promise. And I like your style.”

So Kat explained her meeting with her teacher and how Alec reacted. Danica didn’t hide her wince.

“Oh man, that explains why he’s been so mopey.”

“He’s mopey?”

“Well, he’s not a whole lot of fun to be around.”

“What do you think?”

Danica cocked her head. “About What Stone did?”

Kat ran her hands over the smooth counter. “Do you think that’s all he sees when he looks at me? A project?”

Danica sucked in a breath and then blew it out. “First of all, this is a conversation you should have with him, you get that? This clearly isn’t resolved between you two. And Kat, if he only saw you as a project, why would he be this hurt? Alec isn’t a macho guy who’s upset because his pride is wounded. He’s upset because he cares about you. He wouldn’t be hurt otherwise.” She cocked her head. “You get that, right? You have the power to hurt him because he cares about you so much.”

Kat hadn’t thought of it that way. No one had ever cared enough to give her any sort of power to hurt them. But Alec had, hadn’t he? God, they’d given each other the power. And hurt each other in the process.

When Kat didn’t say anything, Danica kept talking. “I think he said what he did from a good place. He meant well, but he didn’t think about how it would make you feel. And I’m not going to excuse him because ‘he’s a guy.’ That’s bullshit. He needs to see where you’re coming from, too.”

Kat missed Alec with an ache that intensified every day. So hearing Danica’s affirmation this torture was right helped a little.

“You going to give him a second chance?”

“He texts me every day. Really nice, sweet things. And I think he’s trying to show me why he cares about me. But he hasn’t said I’m sorry. That’s all I want to hear, really.”

Danica rolled her eyes. “Men.”

“Anyway, um, I have a meeting with my advisor. To declare my major. Early education.”

Danica jerked her head up from checking on her cookies in the oven. “No way! My roommate’s an education major.” She turned and yelled down her short hallway. “Lea! C’mere!” Turning to Kat, she said. “You’ll like Lea. She’s a sweetheart.”

Seconds later, a door opened in the hallway and a very petite, dark-haired girl slowly made her way toward them. Her hair was long, thick and straight, and a fringe of bangs touched her eyelashes. She had high cheekbones, round cheeks and a small, bow mouth. As she grew closer, Kat noted she was limping. The girl turned large, round dark brown eyes onto Danica, but didn’t speak.

Danica gestured toward Kat. “Kat this is Lea Travers. Lea, this is Kat Caruso, Alec’s . . . something. She’s declaring her elementary-education major. Maybe you can help her out with which profs to get and which to avoid.”

Kat turned in her stool to face the pixie-faced girl and clapped her hands with a squeal. “Oh yay! Really?”

Lea smiled. “Sure, I’d be happy to help.”

Kat grinned. “I already have a BFF, but you can be my MBF, or major best friend. This is awesome.”

Lea’s eyebrows rose into her forehead and she visibly shuddered. “Yeah, sure, but . . . could you go easy on the acronyms? OMG. BFF. TMI. They make me break out in hives.”

Silence.

The three of them remained motionless while Lea’s face reddened, and she clapped her hand over her mouth.

Danica’s snort of laughter was a catalyst for Kat to double over in laughter, slamming her palm down on the counter while Danica stomped her foot on the tiled floor. Through her tears, Kat saw Lea start to giggle, her face still red. When Kat was able to compose herself, she reached for her phone.

“What are you doing?” Danica asked.

“I’m texting Tara to let her know she’s been replaced as my Best Friend Forever. Spelled out.” She turned to Lea. “Okay, Miss Anti-acronym. I need your number. We’re going to be tight. I can feel it.”

Lea’s face was still red, but she also seemed pleased, stepping closer to Kat and reciting her number. She braced herself on the counter, shifting her hips to take the weight off of one of her legs. Kat finished entering her number and set her phone on the counter. She hopped down off of her stool. “Go ahead and take my seat. I’m tired of sitting.”

Lea hesitated, then hopped up onto the stool.

“So, what happened to your leg? Did you trip on that stupid crack in the sidewalk outside of the library?” She turned to Danica. “That happened to me. I e-mailed the maintenance people about it. I was in a crowd of rugby players when it happened and it was like a dandelion falling in a forest of redwoods. No one could see me and I was having flashbacks to that time I saw the running of the bulls in Pamplona, convinced I was gonna get trampled—”

“Kat,” Danica said patiently.

“What? You do know about the running of the bulls, right? Because—”

“Kat!” Danica shouted and Kat snapped her jaw shut. She turned to Lea, who had her mouth open like she was trying to speak, eyes glittering with amusement.

“I didn’t fall,” she said, her soft voice musical. “I was in a car accident when I was younger and my leg got crushed.”

That wasn’t what Kat expected and now she felt a little nuts for going off about that dang crack in the sidewalk. Even if it was a total safety hazard that she needed to call someone about. Again.

“Oh, no,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

Lea smiled and rubbed her leg below the knee. “Thanks.”

Kat took a step closer. “Um . . . can I see it?”

Lea blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Oh shoot, is that rude? I just never met anyone—”

Lea waved her hand. “No, it’s fine. No one ever asks me, that’s all. When I tell people, they usually just look uncomfortable and try to change the subject as fast as they can.” She lifted up the leg of her jeans, showing a series of red and white scars which traipsed up from her ankle and disappeared beneath the denim.

“Oh wow.” Kat stepped closer.

Lea shrugged. “Hey, the scars mean I survived.”

“Does it hurt?”

Lea dropped her jeans back in place and shrugged. “Sometimes. It gets stiff a lot. Depends on how much walking I have to do.”

“Do you have a cane or anything?”

“Not that I use on a regular basis. Sometimes on bad days or rough mornings.”

Kat nodded. “Okay, I’m going to change the subject now, but it’s not because I’m uncomfortable, it’s because I want to ask you some questions about our major before I forget.”

Lea cocked her head. “Acronym usage aside, I like you, Kat Caruso.”

“I know, I’m totally likeable, right?” Kat laughed. “I like you, too, Lea Travers. So, what grade do you want to teach?”

“I’d like to teach high-school English. Eventually, I’d like to get my master’s in library science, to be a librarian.”

“That’s so cool. I have no idea what I want to teach. I was thinking kindergarten, but I’m not sure how good my patience is. And then I was thinking fifth grade, but that’s when my school did sex education and I’m not sure I’m down with handing out Maxi Pads and deodorant and talking to boys about their boners.”

Lea’s raised her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth quirked up.

“I just know I want to teach, you know? For once in my life, I finally feel like I know what I’m supposed to be doing, and it’s awesome.”

The oven beeped, signaling the first batch of cookies was cooked. Danica grabbed her oven mitts. “Great, let’s celebrate this newfound introspection with some cookies, huh?”

“Best way to celebrate.” Kat grinned. “Where’s the milk?”

Kat spend the rest of the afternoon with Danica and her roommate. Lea talked to her about the best advisors and professors in the education major and which campus clubs she could join to connect with other students.

By the time Kat left, she felt better about declaring her major and was prepared to face Monday’s appointment.