My Only (3 page)

Of course, that didn’t happen. The next day at school I was struck stupid again and just watched her for most of the day. Right before P.E., Casey and I stopped at my locker to put away my books when Olivia turned the corner. Whatever we were talking about ceased. I watched her, and even though I could feel Casey watching me, I didn’t pay any attention.

After she’d passed and turned down the next hal , Casey said, “Oh, my God, Adam! You like her! You’re total y in love with the new hottie!” I was sure I was a deep crimson color now, total y embarrassed about being caught staring at Olivia, I said, “Shut up. I am not!”

“Yes, you are!” Casey said. “I
saw
you! You were practical y drooling al over yourself.” He turned as I closed my locker. “She
is
pretty hot, though.

Not as hot as Hannah, but completely lust-worthy.”

“Shut up,” I said again, trying to adopt a bored tone, but unsure if I’d succeeded.

“You love the new girl!” he said.

As I picked up the pace to the locker room, I rol ed my eyes. Now that he’d found a hook, Casey wasn’t going to let up.

By the end of the week, it was clearly obvious that once you’d noticed someone, there was no unnoticing them. I wished I’d never seen Olivia dancing in the Cartwrights’ house. I wouldn’t feel so spun, and absolutely ridiculous.

Casey told me I should just go talk to her, but there was never any time. She was only in one class with me, and she was always surrounded by people now. There wasn’t any way that I was going to break through the gaggle of interested guys and confidently introduce myself. I didn’t think she would choose
me
to hang out with. Not when there were guys like Nathan Prescott with his bulging biceps, or Cooper Smith with baby-faced dimples, or Liam Donovan who was the lead in every school play and could make girls giggle and swoon with his theatrics.

And definitely not when Aaron, king of getting girls, was
always
by her side. I wasn’t a social leper, I had friends, and I was in a band which might be considered cool, but I stil didn’t think I was anywhere near worthy of someone like her.

By Friday, it was just depressing. I wanted to curl into myself until there were no vulnerable spots left, but I didn’t have time to be depressed.

Tonight was our first home game, so the band was playing at halftime. It might have been stupid, but I always got nervous before stepping onto the field with al the spectators.

Depression over a girl I didn’t know didn’t sit wel with nervousness. I felt pul ed in every direction.

While Casey played guitar in our pitiful garage band, he played trombone in the marching band. It was amusing to watch since his arms weren’t very long. He was only about five foot four, so the instrument was almost as big as he was, but he got the job done. Unlike me, he always seemed to be in a good mood. When he realized I was conflicted, he punched me on the shoulder and gave me a reassuring smile.

“WoW tonight, right?” he asked, referencing our favorite online role-playing game.

I buttoned up the white vest that went over our black dress shirt and pants. Unlike the rest of the band, the drumline got to wear simpler uniforms.

We had set up a raid tonight with some of the other guys who liked
World of Warcraft
. I wasn’t feeling it, but it was already planned. “Yeah, fine.” I’d never been overly jealous of my brother before, but as I finished dressing and thought about the differences our Friday nights held, I felt a pang within me. After the game, win or lose, he would go to a party with his friends. I’d be at home playing some kind of role-playing game with my friends. Mostly it was over the Internet, but sometimes we gathered together to play the traditional
Dungeons & Dragons
,
Talisman
, or one of the other older predecessors to the online gaming fads.

“Adam!”

I tugged on my vest and sighed at myself when I looked into the mirror. “What?”

“Maybe she’l be in color guard and you can stare at her al night.”

It didn’t make me feel better, but I knew that was what he was trying to do, so I said. “Yeah, maybe she and Hannah are best friends now, and we can fol ow them around like puppies looking for scraps.”

Casey pul ed on his gloves with the same smile he normal y wore. “Girls like puppies. And Hannah’s scraps are more than enough for me.” Saturday morning was like al Saturday mornings. I was up before my brother, and my father had yet to get home from his shift at the factory. One of the things I did was make breakfast on Saturdays. Dad was always hungry when he came home, and even if he didn’t get up for hours, Aaron could annihilate food the day after a game.

The pancakes were almost done when I heard my dad at the door. His routine was always the same; I didn’t have to look into the foyer to see what he was doing. He closed the door, threw his union jacket up on the hook by the door, kicked off his boots, and then sighed as he stretched. I might not have been as close to my father as Aaron was, but I loved my dad.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“Breakfast,” I answered, holding up the plate of rapidly cooling flapjacks. As I took them to the table and got the syrup, Dad washed his hands.

“How was work?”

“Eh,” he said with a shrug. “Doesn’t real y change much from day to day. Just petty drama that would piss me off if I got involved in it.” He joined me at the table and slapped cakes onto his plate while I loaded up mine. This was where we ran into trouble. We never knew what to talk about. He seemed content with eating in silence. I should’ve been as wel , but I always felt the urge to be closer to him, even though I never real y thought it would happen.

He liked sports, so I decided to talk about the game. “Aaron was good last night.” My dad chewed and nodded. “Yes, he was. If the team hunkers down, they might actual y do something this year.” He meant that they might make it to championships. Even though I’d sat through enough footbal chatter that I should’ve understood, I didn’t know exactly what went into “doing something,” so I could only say, “It would be nice, since he’s a senior and al .”

“Go out with a bang.” He took another bite and looked like he was thinking. Then he said with a shrug, “There’s always basketbal . Aaron’s great at basketbal .”

I lowered my head until I could see nothing but my plate. “Aaron’s great at everything.” The kitchen grew silent for a moment. Then my dad said, “The band sounded good last night.” His voice made it seem like he was grasping. I wondered if he’d even real y listened to the band. We were always good. Unlike the footbal team, we’d won the last two statewide marching band competitions. But even if we sucked, he would never be able to tel if I was any good or not. I was just one guy on the drumline.

“Yeah.” I took the last bite of my cold pancakes then said, “The freshmen are pretty good this year.”

“No one fel down.”

I looked up. The edges of his lips were curved up. He meant it as a joke, so I mirrored his look. “No, thankful y we al remained on our feet.” He took a drink of milk, then ran his hand through his short hair and yawned. There was another moment of silence before he said, “You’ve got coordination, Adam. When I watch you, I’m impressed.”

I didn’t know why he said it or if I should be proud at the compliment. It sounded a bit as if he was surprised that I didn’t trip al over myself. I knew I wasn’t as talented as Aaron, but I wasn’t completely useless.

“I couldn’t do what you do. I think keeping a beat is hard enough, but you do it while walking and dancing and carrying a heavy drum.”

“We don’t dance,” I said, correcting him. We marched, yes; danced, no. During the drum breaks, we moved, but it wasn’t dancing. It was more marching in place and a few sways, leans, occasional turns, and a few choreographed arm moves.

“Wel , whatever,” he said. “You were good, okay?”

Again, I looked down at my empty plate and nodded. “Okay.”

Silence. His chair scraped against the linoleum. “Work today?”

“This afternoon.” I stood and picked up our plates. He stretched then left the kitchen, turning on the television in the family room.

I cleaned up the kitchen then padded upstairs. There was nothing better on a Saturday morning than a long, hot shower. When I was finished, Aaron final y emerged from his room, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Morning,” he mumbled as we passed each other in the hal . That was al that passed between us before I went to work

I was always happy to be at the bookstore. My managers were pretty awesome. Al were incredibly smart people who held degrees in specialized areas, but couldn’t get a job in those fields because of the economy. And then there was Delaney. She was so bright—both in intel igence and personality. She wasn’t a “bubbly” person, but when I was around her, it was hard to not to feel the infectious fun and positivity. She was beautiful, too. Delaney had curly, long, brassy hair and usual y pul ed it up into ponytails or braided it into pigtails. Every so often, she’d leave it down.

When I started working at Barnes & Noble last year, she was already there. I hadn’t ever seen her around town before, and I’d been dumbstruck.

It was a similar reaction to the one I’d had when I saw Olivia for the first time. Delaney hadn’t been dancing—just stocking classic books, but when my manager, Dave, introduced me to her, the grin on her face was so bright it melted me.

She was studying English at Northwestern University. She’d just turned twenty-one a few weeks ago, so she hadn’t been working much. Delaney commuted from Lakeside to Evanston, spending her weekends at home, while mainly staying with friends on campus during the week.

It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that I had a little “thing” for her.

“So what’s new with you?” she asked casual y as she slid a book onto a shelf. She walked her fingers along the spines of other books as she alphabetized in her head.

“Nothing.”

Delaney chuckled. “Every time with you, Adam!”

I stopped studying the five books in my hands and looked back up at her. “ ‘Every time’ what?” Those pale rose-colored lips curving up in the way that made my heart beat a little faster. “Every time I ask you what’s new, you always say,

‘nothing,’ as if you’ve honestly done nothing since the last time I saw you.”

I shrugged. I wasn’t like Aaron. My life didn’t include huge events. I turned to the opposite shelf and started working. “Nothing did.” She busied herself again and waited a moment before asking, “Have you thought about which col ege you want to go to next year?” Scratching the back of my head, I answered, “You sound like my guidance counselor. Are you sure that’s not what you want to do when you graduate col ege?”

“Wel , it might be my only option. I can picture it now: my entire livelihood revolving around pushing high school kids into career paths they have no interest in.”

I slid a copy of
The Count of Monte Cristo
between two other books. “I think you’d be good at it.” Delaney would be good at anything. “People would listen to you.”

“Good,” she said, her voice light as always. “Hopeful y, that’l translate into book sales. First, I’ve got to get an agent to accept my manuscript.”

“How’s that going?” One of the things that drew me to Delaney was that she was a creative person. She’d let me read her manuscript—

something she wrote two years ago and it was real y good. It wasn’t like what I normal y read. There was no science fiction or fantasy involved, but the way she painted real life with words on a page was so beautiful.

“Another fifty rejection letters.” She paused. “I’ve rewritten my query letter again. Here’s hoping
someone
likes it.” I turned around and saw that she was holding up both hands, the first two fingers on each crossed. “Someone wil ,” I added confidently. “And then I’l stock your books. You can come in for signings and remember how you used to give away your weekends to this place.” I loved the laugh she gave me. “Thanks,” she said before turning back to finish her work.

The time sped by, as it usual y did on Saturdays. The mal was bustling. Barnes & Noble was one of the main destinations. We were the only bookstore in town, besides the old school, hole-in-the-wal shop. Even though I worked here, I stil loved that store. The owner was this old hippie, complete with long hair and crazy peace sign necklaces. The store even had a cat.