The Trouble with Emily Dickinson (23 page)

“With some other guy, right?”

“It was a girl, if you must know. A
friend.”

“A friend?” Kyan forced a laugh. “Would this
so-called friend be the tutor you’ve been spending so much time
with lately?”

“Have you hired a private investigator or has
Christine been filling your ears with gossip again?” Kendal looked
at him with distaste. “Either way, you’re pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” Kyan snorted and pointed a lazy
finger at himself. “You think I’m pathetic?”

Kendal laughed sweetly at him. “I’ve got a
little news bulletin for you since you’re so interested in gossip.”
She hovered over him as if she were about to share a secret. “The
entire student body at Sampson thinks you’re pathetic. You are the
biggest self-centered, egotistical moron I’ve ever met. It’s been
said, pretty much by every girl you have ever dated at this school,
that you spend most dates complimenting yourself with every other
sentence you utter. Have you ever noticed why the girls you hook up
with suddenly stop talking to you? Or did you actually think that
you were the one playing them?”

“I—”

“Oh—you did, didn’t you? How sad.”

Kyan stared down at the blanket. His charisma
had melted away, and his confidence had been deflated like a popped
balloon. “I just came here to ask you why you don’t like me,” he
confessed. “You didn’t have to be so mean about it.”

“Well, now you know,” said Kendal.

Kyan stood up, his mind in a daze as he
stepped aimlessly around the blanket. “I thought I was just doing
what was expected of me,” he explained. “I’m the captain of the
soccer team, so I’m supposed to get all the girls. I take care of
myself physically, I get good grades, I’m one of the most popular
guys in the whole school, and I’m going to college next fall to
prepare for law school. I’ve done everything right.”

“Not everything.”

He looked at her, desperation in his eyes.
“Then tell me, what am I doing wrong?”

Kendal’s own eyes softened. She suddenly felt
sorry for him. “You aren’t doing anything wrong. It’s not about
what you do. It’s about who you are. And apparently you aren’t
being yourself. You act so conceited, it turns people off.”

“I can be a nice guy,” Kyan maintained.

“Then why do you act like such a jerk most of
the time?”

“I guess I always thought that’s how I was
supposed to act.”

“Who says? If people knew the real you, the
insecure and sincere person you are behind closed doors, they might
respect you more.”

“Who said I’m insecure?” Kyan said
quickly.

Kendal stared at him firmly.

“What? Guys aren’t supposed to be insecure,”
he told her.

“Where did you get all of these ridiculous
rules from? Is there some book out there that states what guys
should or shouldn’t be?”

“My father’s in the military,” he said.
“They’re his rules, not mine.”

“Maybe it’s time to make a new set of rules
then.” Kendal approached him, setting her hands on his shoulders.
“That’s the real point of going off to college, isn’t it? It’s
about finding out who you really are, no matter what other people
think. Do you really want to be the same person in college as you
are now? You’re going to meet a whole new set of people and
friends. You might as well let them see the real you.”

Kyan didn’t answer.

“I know that I’m not going to pretend to be
something I’m not, anymore,” Kendal continued. “It isn’t worth it.
High school is such a small part of our entire lives. Once we
graduate, it doesn’t matter anymore anyway. Who’s going to brag ten
years from now that they were on the soccer team or the
cheerleading squad at Sampson Academy? I’m not. That’s why I don’t
care who says what about me anymore, or who disapproves of what I
do or even who I like.”

“So it’s true, then. You really are a
lesbian?” Kyan asked.

Kendal laughed and dropped her hands to her
side. “I don’t know what I am,” she said. “But does it really
matter?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Look, I’m in no position to tell you what to
do. But if you’re so concerned with what people think about you,
how can you ever really be yourself? Aren’t you always going to be
afraid of what everyone else is thinking?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“Because I was doing the exact same thing
before I met—” Kendal paused because she thought she heard
footsteps. She peered into the shadows, but there was no one
there.

“Before you met who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m just
saying I know how you feel. Look, I’m really sorry but I’m kind of
waiting for someone, and it’s important to me, so if you don’t
mind—”

“It’s okay, really.”

As Kyan leaned forward to hug her, Kendal
backed away and gave him her hand to shake instead. He stared at it
blankly, and then took it in his hand.

“Would you do me one favor?” he whispered.
“Can you not tell anybody about this? I don’t want to ruin my
reputation or anything.”

CHAPTER 33

Christine watched helplessly as Kendal packed
her books into several pink plastic crates. Her clothes were spread
across her bed, ready to be carried away to some other closet.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” This
was the fifth time Christine had asked since Kendal had started
packing.

“Nope,” Kendal replied.

“Because I can help you carry your clothes up
to Mya’s room if you want. I’m not doing anything, and—”

“I can do it by myself.” Kendal lifted one
crate of books on top of the other, calculating in her head how
many trips it would take to cart her stuff up to Mya’s room on the
fourth floor of the dorm. She had decided to move in with Mya the
week before, hoping that after winter break she could start the
spring semester off fresh and new. New semester. New classes. New
living space. New Kendal McCarthy.

“Aren’t you ever going to forgive me?”
Christine whined. “I’ve already been scolded by Mya and she’s
making me help her organize some gay and straight alliance group or
something at school. Is that enough?”

“Personally, I think you got off easy,”
Kendal said as she turned and faced Christine head on. “If it were
me, I would have kicked you off of the squad altogether.”

“Kendal, I said I was sorry a billion times!”
Christine slid down on her bed as if she were too weak to stand. “I
did what I did because I just wanted my best friend back.”

“You lied to my face and you made me think I
was getting kicked off the squad just so I’d stop hanging out with
someone you disapproved of. What kind of best friend does
that?”

“Can’t you understand?” Christine
pleaded.

“No, I can’t understand,” Kendal said. She
turned her back and resumed packing.

After realizing she was getting nowhere,
Christine hopped off the bed in a huff. “You’ve changed, you know
that?”

“I have changed,” Kendal agreed. “The problem
is that you’ve stayed the same.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kendal picked up a stack of crates and held
them evenly against her chest.

“Go look in the mirror,” she advised. “Then
you’ll see what I mean.”

She pushed past Christine. Steadying the
crates in her arms, she made her way up the two flights of stairs
and down the hall to Mya’s room.

It would have been easy for her to blame
Christine for ruining her chances with JJ as well, but Kendal knew
she’d done that all by herself. It was painfully obvious that JJ
wanted nothing more to do with her since she never showed up under
the scorers’ box that night.

Kendal had waited in the cold, sitting on top
of a damp blanket and flicking the flashlight off and on for almost
two hours before she’d finally given up hope. And though Christine
wasn’t directly responsible, she sure was an attractive
scapegoat.

“How much more stuff do you have?” Mya asked,
as Kendal entered her room.

“Not much,” Kendal grunted as she set down
the crates on the floor. “Just a few more crates and my
clothes.”

“Let me help you.”

“It’s okay,” said Kendal. “I can do it.
Letting me move in here is help enough.”

“I have plenty of room. It’s not a big deal
at all.”

“Good. Because I needed to get as far away
from Christine as possible.”

“How is she taking it?”

“Poorly.”

“If it’s any consolation, I know she feels
bad about it.”

“Right. I can tell how broken up about it she
is by the way she whines in her satin sheets.”

Mya helped Kendal unpack some of the books
from the crates on the floor. “Honest. She does feel bad about what
she did.”

“She feels bad because you are making her
help form a gay and straight alliance,” said Kendal. “That’s what
she feels bad about.”

Mya lifted a volume of Emily Dickinson’s
poetry out of the crate and began to thumb through it. She turned
to one particularly dog-eared page with a highlighted poem. The
margins of the page were covered with notes and doodles. She
noticed that JJ’s name was scribbled along the margin more than
once.

“Is it possible,” Mya asked gently, “that
your frustration with Christine is more about your feelings for JJ
than anything else?”

“What?” Kendal snatched the book away from
Mya as soon as she saw her looking at it. “No, it’s not!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Maybe,” Kendal admitted, reluctantly. With
her finger she slowly traced the lettering on the cover of the
book. “Maybe it has less to do with Christine and more with the
fact that I know I’m the one who messed things up with JJ.”

“What happened exactly?”

“I don’t know.” Kendal frowned, as she placed
the book on the shelf next to the others. “I asked her to meet me
so I could explain everything. And she never showed up. I guess she
wasn’t interested in my explanation.”

“So what now?”

“Now, nothing.” Kendal stacked the empty
crates in the closet. “Time to move on. New semester. New things to
come.”

“Such as—”

“Well, for starters I’ve decided to pursue
Women’s Literature as my major in college next year. And I’m even
thinking about getting my master’s degree.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you for—”

“A brain? Me, neither. But, things
change.”

Mya sat down on her bed. “I didn’t mean to
imply anything by that,” she said.

“I know,” Kendal replied apologetically. “I’m
a little on edge still. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” Mya opened the
brick-red binder that was sitting next to her, and began sifting
through some papers.

“What’s that?” Kendal asked.

“My obsessive-compulsive organization skills
kicking in,” Mya answered. She picked up the binder and showed it
to Kendal. “It’s basically an organizational tool for the winter
formal.” She flipped over a few pages as she spoke. “For instance,
here’s a list of possible venues, and here’s a list of Deejays and
limo rentals. You name it—it’s on here. I even have a list of who’s
going with whom just to keep on top of everything.”

“You can mark me down as going solo,” Kendal
said.

“Really? I thought Kyan would have asked you
for sure.”

Kendal smiled wickedly. “Kyan won’t be asking
me anytime soon. I can promise you that.”

“I wonder who he’s going to ask then. I think
I’d faint if he ever asked me.”

“You like Kyan?”

“He’s gorgeous!” Mya cooed like a little
school girl. “And have you seen him without his shirt on? I could
scrub my clothes clean on that washboard he calls his stomach!”

Kendal burst out laughing.

“What?” Mya asked innocently. “You don’t
think he’s good looking?”

“Sure, if you like that meathead, jockish
sort of look.”

“Oh. I forgot.”

“Forgot what.”

“You’re into girls now,” Mya teased.

“I’m not into girls now,” Kendal returned.
“I’m into someone who happens to be a girl. And apparently she’s
not into me.”

“Well, I happen to think Kyan is cute.”

“Why don’t you ask him to the winter formal
then?”

“Me? I couldn’t.” Mya blushed. “He’d never
say yes.”

“Why not? You’re cute, popular and the
captain of the cheerleading team. He’d be nuts not to say yes.”

“You think so?”

“I think you’re just the kind of girl Kyan
Stevens needs in his life.”

Mya jumped up off the bed, and took Kendal’s
hand. “Come on. I’ll help you get the rest of your stuff up here,”
she said. “Then you can help me think of what to say to Kyan. If
I’m going to get up the nerve to ask him, I have to do it soon.
Otherwise he might ask somebody else!”

CHAPTER 34

JJ stood in front of The Spot, debating
whether or not to go in. Her stroll, in search of inspiration for
writing, had led her nowhere in particular. She still lacked
motivation to even pick up a pen. And sitting in the back corner of
the coffee shop, listening to successful, imaginative writers spew
out poem after poem, certainly lacked appeal. Yet she continued to
linger, finding it hard to ignore the temptation of a warm beverage
and the stimulation of caffeine.

The sun had just settled in for the night,
and the chill in the air had now turned from a nibble to a bite. JJ
shivered and wished she’d worn a jacket over her Sampson Lady
Yellow Jackets sweatshirt.

“You just going to stand there all
night?”

JJ spun around to see Kyan Stevens standing
directly behind her. His hands were shoved deep into the front
pockets of his jeans in an effort to keep them warm.

“Some of us would actually like to get a cup
of coffee,” said his friend Jason, who was standing beside him.

“Oh, right.” JJ stepped aside to let them
pass.