The Best of Fools (Jane Austen Book 2) (2 page)

"It's not official yet."

She looked at Mr. Slovak. "We'll have to get together for dinner soon." She waved us away. "Go on and have fun for a bit while I finish up."

Donovan disappeared upstairs and jogged back down with a huge smile on his face. He was ten seconds from teasing me about my British lover boy. I just knew it.

We plopped back into the car when he finally made my guess a reality.

"So, when will you be moving to your English cottage with Alistair?" he said with his best English accent. Pretty much the worst version you'd ever hear.

I elbowed him. "Drop it."

He shrugged. "You aren't going to go back to the airport, are you?"

"Doubtful. He got the year wrong anyway. Said four years when I turn twenty one, but I'll be twenty two in four years."

"I don't like math either."

I stopped at the stop sign. "Usual place for sky catching?"

"You bring the box?" he said.

"No. Did you want me to?"

"Well, I want you to open it before we die."

I laughed and accelerated. "Guess it's the usual place, then."

We arrived after a short drive. I parked and met Donovan on the hood of my car. We reclined and watched the clouds stretch into long streaks across the blue background.

"You know," he said.

"Uh oh. A Donovan lecture is coming. Let me hide!"

He laughed. "Just saying one day you'll need to stop avoiding everything."

"Maybe tomorrow." I flashed him a smile.

He smiled back.

"So what happened with what's her name?" I said.

"Glad what's her name made such an impression that you remember her name so clearly."

"Hey, it's not like I met her!"

"Yeah, yeah. Everything was perfect until I was saying goodbye. She got real serious and told me it wouldn't work. She hates long distance. I was willing to move there, but I don't know. I get the feeling she still loves her ex."

"But then why..." I cut myself off and tousled his hair. "It'll be okay. Plenty of girls would love to be yours, Don."

"I don't want just anyone." He put his arms behind his head. "We're young. Plenty of time to figure things out. I had a great time though and it did help me figure out what I want in a woman."

I swallowed. Why was my mouth dry all of a sudden? "And what would that be?"

He tapped the roof of the car. "Can you believe we still come here as adults?"

"That's right, we're adults now. Eighteen. Wow. I feel like a kid still."

"I hope you always do." He pulled my wrist. "Come.”

Why did I suddenly feel trapped in a movie of my own life? Reeling on by as I watched from the couch.

He wrapped his arm around me and pulled my head toward his chest. We were weird best friends who for years had odd platonic cuddle sessions. This one made me nervous though. Shy, even.

He held my head while I listened to his heartbeat. Then his breathing slowed. I watched my hand rise and fall on his chest until he did his twitchy thing. That's how I knew he was either asleep or very close to it. He fell asleep so fast. It always took me way longer.

He jerked and woke himself up.

"Whoa," I said. "You okay?"

"Plane was falling."

I laughed. "Do you think it's weird that we do this?"

"Do you?"

"I asked first."

He laughed, bobbing my head with his chest. "I don't know. I guess it could be to some people, but we've been doing this for years."

I perched myself on one arm and stared at him. He looked back. We were so comfortable together, even inches from each other's lips. But since my day with Alistair something changed. Something in me. Maybe my hormones were reawakened.

Just fantastic.

"You aren't in love with me?" I said. "Seriously. Are you?"

He looked at me for a few seconds, calculating his response, then finally said, "Do you want me to be?"

I slapped his arm and sat up.

"What?" He sat beside me and pulled his knees to his chest, then hung his arms over them. "What's the right answer? Does Jane Austen want me to fall in love with her?"

"You are so annoying." I shook my head. "No, she doesn't. I just wonder how we can do this year after year, in between your girlfriends, and not have feelings for each other. It is kinda weird, isn't it?"

"I'm not complaining." He pulled me toward him. "I love you. Our friendship might be a little strange, but it works for us."

"You don't get the slightest bit turned on when you're here with me?"

He laughed.

"What?"

He shook it off and changed the subject, "You're in a bizarre mood."

"Are you saying I'm not attractive to you?" I teased.

"You're pretty much the opposite of beautiful."

I laughed. "I don't know. This Alistair thing has me screwed up. I mean, I felt things. His arm brushed mine and I felt things. When he walked away I almost went after him. Seriously, Donovan. This is sickening."

"Normal."

"Sickening."

"Normal. Welcome to the world of normal people with normal feelings."

"I don't want to be welcomed. Take me back to my world of abnormal feelings."

"Want to go get the box and open it?"

Oh, there they go again.

Donovan and I walked into my house to find my parents gazing into each other's eyes in the living room. Maybe even doing some kind of slow dance to music only they could hear.

"Hello," I chimed in. "Other people exist in the world."

They laughed and turned to us while holding hands.

"Oh, Donovan," Mom said. "You're back. How was your trip?"

He leaned back on his heels. "It was good, thanks."

"Missed you around here, son," Dad said. "I had a project and could've really used the extra hands."

"Oh yeah? What project?"

Mom interrupted, "It's a surprise for Janie."

"Mom, don't call me Janie."

She laughed. "You're still my baby Janie."

"Okay, okay," I said, walking toward the stairs. "Come on, Donovan, before they brainwash you and sweep you into a BBC film."

They all laughed. Donovan followed me to my room and sat on the bed. I pulled the box out of my closest and sat beside him, staring at the ... the thing in my lap.

He glanced at the box, then me, then the box, me, the box. "Want me to open it for you?"

I waved his hand away and opened the top. Then stared at it. And ... stared some more.

"Uh." He reached for it. "Let me handle this for you."

I swatted his hand. "Patience, my friend. Patience."

I stared.

"You're kidding, right?" He reclined on my bed. "I'll just take a nap. Wake me next month when this is finished."

"Do you ever feel like you're in a glass box?" I ran my finger along the inside and lifted the hidden compartment. "There on the other side is everything you want and it seems so easy to touch, but when you reach out with a smile on your face, ready to wrap your fingers around it ... you hit glass. "

He sat up and looked at me, but I didn't look up, only felt his eyes on me as he cleared his throat and said, "What are you reaching for?"

I shook my head, not wanting to tell him. Or myself. I didn't want to admit what my dreams were. They seemed so childish. So stupid in a world full of starving families and destitution beyond my wildest imagination.

My dreams were petty. And I knew that. Which is why I shoved them in the box and buried them years ago.

I flipped it open and took a deep breath.

Donovan peeked inside. "It's ... a paper? A note of some kind?"

I lifted it in my hand. The paper shook like the last fall leaf on a sleepy tree. I fanned myself with it, inhaled again, then handed it to Donovan.

"You want me—“

I nodded.

"Okay."

The paper crinkled as it unfolded and the Polaroid slipped out on to his lap. I looked away, embarrassed to even have it. What would Mom and Dad think?

Mom and Dad.

Donovan lifted the photograph and turned it to the back side. No writing.

"She looks like you," he said. "What is it?"

He looked over the paper for some kind of hidden note, but there wasn't a note. Just the picture. The picture I buried, but never forgot.

"It's my mother," I said, finally exhaling.

"Your...."

I pat his knee. "Yup."

This is the point where Autumn would ask for every last detail in the known universe. She'd stop at nothing and ask questions I never knew the answer to and probably never would. And she'd try to convince me that I knew, somewhere deep inside, if only I just thought harder. For her sake, you know, because she liked stories and she liked to turn everyone around her into one.

But honestly, I didn't always know.

And sometimes what you need isn't a friend who wants details, but a friend who sits there, in the opaque silence, listening to you breath while feeling—yes, feeling so deeply and so intensely—every last good or bad emotion coursing through your mind and heart.

That is why Donovan would forever be my best friend. That is why I wanted him there when I saw the picture for the first time in over a decade.

He set it on my lap and I touched her face, then my eyes rested on her stomach. My first home. The place where it all began.

No matter how many times I played the situation over in my head. The fifty thousand possible scenarios that could have been the story of
why
. Why? Why didn't she want me?

"See, Don," I said shyly. "I'm not really Jane Austen anyway."

Autumn and Donovan sat next to each other in Honors English and I sat right behind them, next to Joey, our ultra strange class clown. I secretly hated sitting next to him because he would randomly stand on his chair and blurt out weird random movie quotes no one could figure out. Not that I cared much about that, but he did it so fast that he'd jerk my desk and I'd end up with a huge line of ink down my paper or a notebook with the rings popped open as it hit the floor. Not really my idea of funny, but the guy had some kind of major ADHD going on and I kinda felt bad for him so I'd laugh even if it wasn't funny.

Like, oh I don't know, right now as he jumped on top of his desk and yelled, "Badges? We ain't got no badges! We don't need no badges! I don't have to show you any stinking badges."

I held my desk in place as Mr. Granger lowered his glasses and huffed.

"Joe, please have a seat."

Joey took a bow and landed back in his chair.

Yes, my friends, this is Honors English I'm talking about.

Donovan slipped me a note. I pulled my notebook onto my lap and propped it against the desk, unfolded the note, and smoothed it over top of my notes from class.

TWO THINGS, well, make that three actually.

1.) Ready for finals tomorrow?

2.) Go to prom with me?

3.) Busy tonight? I have an idea.

I wrote back:

1.) Ready as I'll ever be.

2.) I'm going with Autumn. You don't have a date??

3.) Meet me at the ice cream place. 5pm.

I tapped his shoulder and his hand twisted behind his back, grabbed the note, and disappeared. A few seconds later he handed it back.

No date. Guess I need to find one. Any ideas? Ice cream place it is.

The bell rang. Everyone stood as Mr. Granger tried to speak above the squeaking chairs and yapping faces. Not a clue what he said. Something about tomorrow's finals that I dreaded.

Donovan had taken off and vanished. His next class was at the complete opposite end of the school, three floors up, and being the good boy that he is ... he just couldn't be late. So Autumn and I walked to our next class together. She had Psych in the same wing that I had theatre. Worked out well. She went on about prom dresses and prom song and prom prom prom.

"Glorified homecoming." I popped her bubble. "Chill out. It's not that special."

"It is though, if you want it to be."

"Eh."

She shook her head. "And the award for most cynical of all goes to...."

"Funny." I laughed. "Does one need to have an affinity toward dancing to be considered optimistic?"

She smiled. "Nice come-back."

I stopped at the door to the theatre. "I'll see you tomorrow. Mr. McShea wants me to stay after class today for some reason so I won't be out right away."

"Kay. Love you. Text me."

"Will do."