Never Enough (6 page)

He surveyed the junk. “Huh. Not much here to work with,” he said. “You ever used one of those?” He motioned to some big tool in the corner that I didn’t even recognize.

I shook my head, thinking it wasn’t a great sign that he called the contraption “one of those” and was looking for
my
expertise here.

He met my eyes and, for just a second, I felt like he didn’t want to look away. Like he was trying to convey something serious, but I was horrible at reading those looks. I blinked and that seemed to bring him back to the task.

“Well, I guess we’ll think of something,” he said, and led the way to the school doors.

*   *   *

I stressed out all through my afternoon classes about my drama grade. I always counted on that B to pull up my average, but now Marcus and I had to build an entire set, which seemed to carry a lot more responsibility and room for error. Just after the last bell of the day, I stood at my locker, trying to look occupied, while students swarmed past me toward the exits. If my nervousness about our stagecraft assignment wasn’t enough, now I also had to think about going for coffee with Marcus. We hadn’t made any detailed plans. Were we supposed to meet here?

“Hi!” Claire suddenly said from behind me.

I clutched at my chest. “You scared the crap out of me.”

She giggled. “I’m off to watch Josh’s football practice.” She looked down at her nails. “Jaz is busy with Laz. Hey, do you want to come with me?” She said it like she’d just thought it up on the spot, but I could tell by her quick words this was the reason she’d come to find me. “Their practice starts in fifteen minutes.”

Sure, I was second choice, but she wanted to watch a football practice with me?
Josh’s
football practice? I nibbled my lip. What if he’d seen the turquoise paper?

As if she could read my mind, Claire said, “Josh told me he thought you were so cute the way you got all embarrassed over the birthday fuss.”

Cute? Had he really said that about me?
If he had seen the quiz, he obviously wasn’t disturbed by it.

“Come on, Loey. We have to hurry.”

“Shh. Don’t call me that here.” “Loey” was a nickname Claire had given me when I was a baby and she was just learning to talk. I didn’t mind it at home, but at school it made me feel childish.

“Oh, right. Hey, Josh wanted to know if you liked the camera.”

My palms moistened. They’d had an actual conversation about me? I hadn’t seen him in the halls since my birthday. The truth was, it would be much easier to face Josh now, with Claire, than it would be if I saw him with his friends while I was all alone.

She looked at me seriously, with her eyebrows raised, and I could tell she was anxious to go. But Marcus . . . I’d never actually been invited out for coffee before and even though I was nervous, I guess part of me had really been looking forward to it. I glanced down the hall. “I kind of have plans with someone,” I said finally.

She threw me a doubting glance and stuttered a little when she said, “I-I thought we could, you know, hang out.”

I didn’t quite know what to do with the sudden sisterly interest. Or
her
nervousness. Claire didn’t get nervous around anybody, least of all me. My heart sped up at the thought of
watching Josh from the sidelines. Or of him coming over to talk to us. Maybe I could chat him up about all I was learning about photography. Maybe he didn’t mind that I’d had an all-consuming crush on him in sixth grade.

Not to mention now.

Marcus appeared from out of nowhere and sidled up to his locker, interrupting my thoughts. I wondered if he could do coffee tomorrow instead.

“Hey,” he said quietly, like he was trying to get away with talking in class.

I knew I should probably introduce him to Claire, but part of me didn’t want to. What if I did, and Marcus liked Claire more than me?

“Whoever it is will understand, I’m sure,” Claire said. “Come on, we have to go.”

Marcus kept his eyes down and started rearranging his books in his locker. His shoulders slumped and he already looked rejected. How would I introduce these two, anyway? Loner Marcus and my gabbing, popular sister? It didn’t compute.

“Don’t you have ballet?” I blurted.

“No, it’s Tuesday.” She rolled her eyes like I should have known that. And yeah, if my brain hadn’t been on autopilot, I would have. I’m that girl that knows her whole family’s schedule because I don’t have enough going on in my own life.
“Come on, you know you want to.” She grabbed my books and slid them into my locker.

I
did
want to. But I also wanted to hang out with Marcus. I just couldn’t explain that to Claire. Her eyes bore into me. She hadn’t even glanced in Marcus’s direction, which was quite a feat, considering his proximity.

I stared straight into the cavern of my locker and said, “I don’t think I can go.” But even as the words came out of my mouth, I couldn’t figure out who I was saying them to.

Marcus closed his locker, then turned and walked away without another word.

Claire tapped her foot. “Oh, come on, Loey. We have to hurry. I want to say hi to Josh before it starts.”

Marcus was almost at the exit.
Why was she doing this? Why now?

She took a step in the other direction and pulled at my hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”

I couldn’t do it. Suddenly I didn’t want to go to the game.

“Marcus!” I yelled, just before the door clacked shut behind him. He paused on the other side of the threshold. “Sorry,” I said to Claire. “Can we do it another day?” I gave her hand a squeeze and plunked on my lock. Avoiding her eyes, I ran for the door and didn’t look back.

When I caught up to Marcus, he kept his face straight ahead. “Let’s go,” he said, and started walking.

I followed him through the parking lot without a word. Not a
Glad you decided to come
or
Thanks for choosing me
. Nothing.

Which made me wonder . . . did I make the wrong choice?

My sister was my
sister
. We’d always looked out for each other, and the more I thought about it, maybe she really needed me today. Maybe all her other friends were busy too and she really didn’t want to go to the game alone.

By the speed of Marcus’s march, he clearly had no idea I was still wavering. I felt like I should apologize for almost jilting him, but really, if I needed to apologize to anyone, shouldn’t it be Claire? It was pretty nice that she wanted to include me when she knows I’m not exactly popular.

But the more I battled it over in my mind, the clearer it became. Claire didn’t
need
me. She’d probably already forgotten she’d ever invited me.

I was lost in my thoughts as Marcus and I plodded over the backfield and cut through someone’s yard to reach Main Street. Even though I’d grown up in Alder Grove, I hadn’t realized how close downtown really was. I’d always thought I needed rides to get anywhere besides school.

Marcus had a long stride and I could barely keep up. His loose black T-shirt and jeans would likely still fit him
twenty pounds from now. We made an odd pair, me being a foot shorter and not nearly as skinny. My face warmed at the thought of us as a pair, especially now, off alone together. Practically a date, even if he hadn’t called it one.

He rounded a corner off of Main Street and headed for an unmarked door. I’d never noticed or been in the building, so a rush of nervousness hit me.
Where is he taking me?

Marcus pushed the thick wooden door open, and the colors inside hit me like a palpable sunrise, calming my anxiety. I stepped into what appeared to be another world.

The strong coffee aroma overtook me as the door closed behind us. The bright yellows and oranges and reds on the walls were unlike colors I’d seen in any kind of business establishment. Artwork, large and small, covered every wall, crammed next to one another like cars on a busy street during rush hour.

There were tables here and there, brown and distressed, not at all matching the atmosphere of the walls. Two old men played checkers at a corner table, but we were otherwise alone. Marcus led me to the counter and one of the old men stopped his checkers game to meet us on the other side.

“You got money?” Marcus asked me. I blinked a couple of times and then fumbled in my pocket for my last few dollars. We both shifted to get our money and our arms touched. It gave me goose bumps. Marcus cleared his throat, ordered us
two large dark-roast coffees with cream and sugar, and put our money in a pile to pay for them. The old man puttered behind the counter, working on our order.

While we waited in silence, I wondered who Marcus had brought here before. It didn’t seem like he had many friends, and I couldn’t really picture him on a date. Did he actually like me, and he was too shy to say it, or was this just a friendship thing? It was hard to tell with him.

Finally the old man put two tall mugs on the counter, and without another word, toddled back to his game. Marcus took one mug, left mine on the counter, and headed to a table near the front window. I waited for a second, to see if he’d turn back for me. Finally, I followed, trying not to spill the hot drink on myself.

Okay, definitely not a date.

We sat and looked at our coffees. Said nothing. Looked out the window at a small walkway and the side of another brick building. Shadows moved across the brick wall as people walked along the main street at the end of the alley. Real exciting stuff. I wondered what Claire was doing now. Was she still at football practice? Was she clapping and shouting to Josh from the sidelines? I waited until Marcus started to drink and followed suit.

I cringed at the burn of the liquid on my tongue and put it down with a scowl.

Marcus snickered. “Sip,” he said. “Coffee is for sipping.”

I was sixteen, not four. And I knew how to drink a hot drink, thank you very much. But I guess I was distracted and nervous. We sat and stared out the window some more.

“I’m not gay, you know,” Marcus said, breaking the silence.

My eyes popped open. He must have seen me in the hall this morning when the jocks were picking on him. Still, I was so surprised that he brought it up that I got tongue-tied. How could he be so casual about it? “I—I know,” I said finally.

More silence. I took another drink to fill the space, this time just a sip.

“I like to come here.” He glanced around. “You see that?” He pointed to a large painting across the room. I nodded. “That’s Michelangelo’s painting of Daniel the prophet. It’s not real, but it’s a good reproduction. At least Armando says so.”

I stared across at the painting, displayed in an old wooden frame. “Who’s Armando?”

Marcus motioned toward the checkers game, to the guy who had made our coffee. “He knows all the art. Which one do you like?”

I studied the walls, recognizing several pieces, but my eyes skimmed over those. I wanted to find something different. Something unusual. At last I settled on a frame behind Marcus.

“The one with the sailboat is cool.”

Marcus turned and studied it for a minute. Nodded. “Looks scary,” he said, turning back.

It did. That’s why I liked it. The tiny wooden boat was weathered, with its sail torn almost in two. It didn’t look like it could survive the swelling wave headed for it. But somehow I knew it could. It just had to stay strong. I always liked rooting for the underdog, the ugly duckling. I guess I felt a kinship with them.

“Yeah,” I answered.

When I brought up the drama set, Marcus gave me the same vague response about figuring something out together. I liked the sound of “together,” but at the same time, “Loann’s like my sister” kept ringing in my head.

I changed the subject and told him about my family to remind him we
weren’t
related.

“Remember the girl who was at my locker?” I asked. “She’s my sister. Claire.”

He nodded in a show of recognition. I braced my hands on the edge of my chair. When other students found out that Claire and I were siblings, a myriad of things followed: wanting to be introduced, needing to know every last detail about her, grasping for some explanation of how I’d come from the same gene pool.

“You don’t look much alike,” he said, eyeing the checkers game again, clearly bored with this topic.

I couldn’t quite think of a response. “Duh,” would have worked, I guess, but somehow Marcus seemed genuine in his response. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever really met anyone so genuine in my life. I kept quiet and waited for him to share something about himself. But apparently he needed some prodding.

“So what about your family?”

Marcus looked out the window and nibbled at his lip.
Had I asked something wrong?
Maybe his parents had split up. Maybe one of them had died. Or maybe I was way off and he just didn’t like to talk about his boring home life.