The Start of Me and You (14 page)

“Oh, totally.” Ryan nodded, as if what I said was a legitimate contribution to the conversation. “Perfect game-day food.”

I was talking to Ryan Chase about hot dogs. Hot dogs. I assured myself it was better than nothing, but I had to think of something better.
Okay
, I told myself.
I don’t have to craft deeply meaningful banter here. I just have to string together words. Any words.

“Did you ever think about playing football?” I asked. “Since track’s in the spring?”

“Nah,” he said. “Not really.”

Cue crickets. If I couldn’t think of anything, what did Leanne Woods talk to him about for two years? Maybe they just looked into each other’s eyes for hours, occasionally remarking at their own attractiveness.

“What about running cross-country in the fall?” I asked.

Apparently, my idea of chatting with Ryan Chase meant conducting an impromptu interview about his interest in sports. But maybe this would turn into a British sitcom—painful awkwardness somehow becomes humor. And then those two awkward people fall adorably in love.

“Eh. I like the speed of track and field, the different events and all that.”

I already knew this of course, from obsessively eavesdropping in English class for the first week. “Cool.”

A loud whistle blew overhead, and a roar erupted from the crowd as the team took to the field. Ryan cheered, with one hand on either side of his mouth, and I clapped, trying to fit in. Max pushed his way back toward us with a stack of hot dogs wrapped in foil.

“Thanks, man,” Ryan said, his eyes glued to the field. He had rotated his body away from me, already engrossed in the game.

I took my hot dog and mustard from Max. “I should probably get back to my friends. Thanks for the hot dog.”

“No problem,” Ryan said.

“Thanks, Max.”

“Yep. See ya, Janie.”

“There you are!” Morgan called as I apologized to the at least twenty people I had to climb over.

“Did you go down to concessions without us?” Tessa pointed to the foil-clad hot dog in my hand.

“No.” I paused for a minute, deliberating. I couldn’t keep it to myself, so I blurted out, “Ryan Chase bought it for me.”

Morgan gasped. “Jealous!”

“Ryan Chase bought you a hot dog,” Tessa repeated, her voice flat.

I bobbed my head happily as I sat between them. “Yeah.”

“Are you going to eat it?” Morgan glanced at the hot dog.

Tessa’s face crumpled in disgust. “As opposed to
what
?”

“I don’t know! Saving it, as a memento or something.”

We both stared at her. Tessa found words first. “That is sick, Morgan.”

I made a show of unwrapping the foil and distributing the mustard. I chewed exaggeratedly.
“Mmmm.”

“Kayleigh!” Morgan yelled near my ear. She waved her arms wildly until Kayleigh spotted us and jogged up the bleachers. They’d bounced back from their tiff, like they always did. The people in our row parted to let her through, and Kayleigh shimmied over them. Her tote bag was bloated with, I assumed, pajamas and sleepover supplies for the night we had planned at Tessa’s house.

“God, finally,” Tessa commented as Kayleigh sat down.

“I know,” she said. “It’s my brother’s fault. What did I miss?”

“Ryan Chase gave Paige a hot dog,” Morgan said.

Kayleigh looked confused. “Is that some sort of metaphor?”

“Kayleigh!” I shrieked, reaching over to smack her leg. “No! Perv!”

I shrank into myself with embarrassment as they burst into giggles. They could laugh all they wanted. Ryan Chase had purchased a gift for me. And now the foil was wadded up in my pocket, proof that it had happened.

I hardly paid attention to the game, sneaking glances down at him. My friends chattered through most of the game, pausing to clap along with the school cheers, and it felt wonderfully normal. I, Paige Hancock, was hanging out at a football game with my friends.

“So,” Morgan said as we filed down the bleachers. “Has the hot dog charmed you into a crush on Ryan Chase?”

“No,” I lied. “It was nice, but it was just a hot dog.”

“Ryan Chase’s hot dog isn’t enough for Paige.” Kayleigh snorted with laughter, and so did Tessa. “Oh, Morgan, don’t look at me like that. You make it too easy.”

“Whatever,” Morgan said. “Besides, Ryan Chase is busy going after the one girl who couldn’t care less.”

“Me?” Kayleigh fluffed her hair. “I don’t blame him.”

“No,” Morgan said. “Tessa.”

Tessa rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I’m just an ego bruise to him. The less I care, the more he tries to win me over. And I know this because yesterday, he said, ‘Tessa, the less you care, the harder I’m gonna try to win you over.’”

My skin burned with envy. I couldn’t master this kind of apathy, no matter how hard I tried. I was built to care—to notice, to overanalyze, to try—in a way that felt inalterable.

When we finally hit the track at the bottom of the bleachers, Kayleigh announced that she needed a bathroom stop.

“Me, too,” Morgan said. “Meet you guys by the concession stand?”

Tessa and I made our way into a more open area where we could walk side by side. I parted my lips to say something, but the words dissipated in my mouth.

Across the walkway, I saw … Aaron. Standing with some friends. The people between us went blurry, moving past.
Not possible. Am I hallucinating—did I hit my head?
My hand flew to my chest, as if I could hold my racing heart inside of me. I almost cried out and ran to him.

But no. Of course not. It was Jacob. His younger brother. My thoughts became disjointed. The dark hair, the same chin and nose. But he was a little shorter, a little skinnier. Longer hair. Of course it was his brother. But the Rosenthals moved. Homecoming. He must be here visiting friends. A freshman now.

I wanted him to disappear. I’d only ever met him a few times, so I had nothing to say. I didn’t even want him to see me. But I stood, paralyzed.

Without warning, Tessa linked our hands and said, “Hey, I’m kind of chilly. Let’s go back to the car.”

She pulled me forward before I could respond.

“Do you know what I was just thinking about? The Fourth of July carnival when we were twelve—do you remember?” she asked, chattering in this weird, nervous way.

I blinked, confused by the tangent, but she kept going, tugging me. “Remember how I wanted to go on the Ferris wheel because I’d never tried it?”

We were already at the edge of the parking lot, hurrying past the crowds. I wanted to ask why the hell she was being so frenzied, but she didn’t stop talking long enough for me to try. “We got all latched in and, even though I didn’t think I was afraid of heights because I’m in airplanes all the time, I got woozy before the ride even started. Do you remember?”

“Yeah. We couldn’t get off because people were still getting loaded on the ride. But, Tess, I—”

“By the time we’re stopped at the top, I was almost hyperventilating, so dizzy and sick … and you leaned over the edge of our cart and yelled to the guy running it, asking if we could come down.”

“And he ignored me.” I was breathing hard from our pace.

“He ignored you,” Tessa agreed. “I begged you to distract me from how panicked I felt, and so you recounted the entire—”

“Ferris wheel scene from
The Notebook
,” I said. “I remember.”

“And it helped for a while. Then you tried to yell down to the guy again, and when he ignored you again, do you remember what you yelled?”

My mouth formed a shaky smile. I did remember.

We had reached her car, now standing right behind it. Tessa said, “‘Excuse me, sir … WE HAVE A BARFER UP HERE.’ And he let us right out. I ran off the ride, so overwhelmed with adrenaline and relief that I started sobbing. You walked me over to the area behind the snow-cone stand, so no one would see me cry. You stood with me and hugged me until I was done.”

“I remember,” I said, shivering against the chill in the air. “What does this have to do with anything, Tess? I just … I just … saw …”

My voice broke, imagining his face again, and tears filled my eyes.

“Jacob Rosenthal,” she said. “I know. And I was getting you to the snow-cone stand, where no one would see you.”

I was crying into my hands before she’d even finished talking.

“I thought he was a ghost,” I whispered, between breaths like hiccups. “He looks … so much … like Aaron.”

“I know.” She hugged me, letting me lean against her shoulder. “It startled me, too.”

I couldn’t believe how easily my brain believed it was him. That single second felt like how the world should be,
and I wanted that feeling back—wanted
him
back. We stood there until I felt cried out, and I straightened, wiping my eyes. We both leaned back on the bumper of her SUV. Tessa slung her arm around me.

“Can you talk to me about something again?” I asked. “Literally anything. Just to keep my mind off it.”

“Sure,” she said. “Question: do you have a real crush on Ryan Chase or just an oh-he’s-so-cute crush, the way Morgan does?”

Well,
that
took my mind off it. There didn’t seem to be a point in totally denying it, so I just sighed and settled on a fib. “The latter. He’s just nice and fun to talk to. Nothing else.”

Tessa opened her mouth to ask more, but I was saved by a familiar voice, angrily calling out.

“What the heck, you guys?” Morgan demanded. Kayleigh was right beside her. “You just took off!”

We stood up, and I looked at Morgan. Her voice went quiet. “Oh no. What’s wrong?”

“Jacob Rosenthal was at the game,” Tessa said.

Neither girl said a word, but they both winced, shoulders drooping.

Before I could tell them I was fine, Morgan’s arms engulfed me and Kayleigh was right beside us, pulling Tessa in, too. I could pick out their scents—the soft vanilla of Morgan’s perfume and the floral of Kayleigh’s hair and
the spearmint gum that Tess chewed any time we were outside of school. With our arms around each other, I almost believed that strength could travel between us like the heat of our bodies. Nothing, not even sadness, could be greater than the sum of us.

Chapter Eleven

“‘Don’t let schooling get in the way of your education.’ Who said it?” Ms. Pepper asked, looking at us expectantly.

Her in-class questions were like daily QuizBowl practice. We’d lost one match and won another since the first, but I hadn’t lost my apprehension. The answer was Mark Twain; I was 99.9 percent sure. Of course, I’d never risk the .1 percent chance of being wrong in front of Ryan Chase. Even after three months of sharing a class with him, I still feared embarrassment at every turn.

Seeing that no one else was going for it, Max—Mr. QuizBowl himself—answered from behind me. “It was Mark Twain.”

“Very nice, Max,” she said. “For a bonus point … know any of his other quotes?”

I turned to look at Max, glad it wasn’t me on the spot. He gave me a quick, private smile before reciting, “A person who
won’t
read has no advantage over one who
can’t
read.”

Ms. Pepper raised her eyebrows. “Impressive! Anyone else?”

To my surprise, Morgan’s hand shot up. Ms. Pepper nodded at her.

“Something like … ‘When red-haired people are above a certain social class, they call it auburn,’” Morgan said, self-consciously touching the tips of her own red hair.

“Excellent. And for the last point, does anyone know Mark Twain’s real name?”

“Mark Twain!” yelled Tyler, which elicited a few giggles.

“Thank you for that, Mr. Roberts,” Ms. Pepper said. “But no.”

I raised my hand before I could change my mind. “Samuel Clemens.”

“Samuel Clemens, indeed!” she said, marking the bonus point down.

Max pushed my elbow with his index finger from behind me. “Nice one, nerd.”

I felt myself smile, even though it was a dorky thing to know, let alone share.

“I’m talking about Mark Twain,” Ms. Pepper said, “because we finished
Grendel
a day early. Since this is an honors class, we will be cramming in another piece of
literature today. And there’ll be another assigned over the weekend.”

Everyone groaned. It was Friday, so this was especially cruel.

“I like your enthusiasm!” Ms. Pepper said. “So here’s the plan. Today, we’ll read one of Mark Twain’s short stories in class and talk about it. Your assignment for the weekend is to read another one of Mark Twain’s short stories, whichever one you want. On Monday, we’ll have a short in-class writing assignment in which you’ll draw from both texts. It might benefit you to read more than one short story, but only one is required.”

More groaning.

Ms. Pepper deflated. “Oh, c’mon, guys. Give Mark Twain a chance. He’s actually really funny.”

By the time the bell rang, I had to agree with her. I was sort of excited to read another short story over the weekend. I had read
Huckleberry Finn
and
Tom Sawyer
, of course, but nothing else of his.

“Surprise assignments are the worst,” Morgan said once we were in the hallway. She turned to Max. “Paige has to plan ahead or she goes crazy.”

Max smiled. “She’s already a little crazy.”

“I know.” Morgan smiled back, as if I wasn’t there.

“Hey!” I said.

“Love ya!” Morgan said, turning toward the hall. “See you in a few.”

Max and I had gotten into the habit of walking together toward lunch and math class, respectively. Morgan always stopped at her locker on the other side of the building, so I was glad to have the company. Walking alone to class often made me think of Aaron. Would we still be together, holding hands in the hall? Sometimes, standing alone at my locker, I half expected to feel a little jab at my waist. Aaron used to come up behind me and poke my side, just to watch me jump. We’d both laugh, and I’d push his shoulder as if I was mad.

“I like your friends,” Max announced. He’d gotten to know them a little better the weekend before. He invited us over to his house, along with a few other people, to watch scary movies and hand out Halloween candy. I was surprised at how well everyone got along and thrilled that I had spent my Friday night with Ryan Chase, sneaking candy and bonding over a mutual hatred of Skittles.