The Truth About Letting Go (8 page)

“It’s not the same. Colt’s a separate person. And they have the same interests, he runs. It was like… I thought he might be an angel or something.”

Charlotte bursts into a tittering laugh. “From what I’ve heard, that boy is no angel.”

I nod, looking down, feeling stupid. “I know. And I don’t even believe in that.”

“But he doesn’t look like your dad to me. He looks like… trouble.”

There it is. She said it, too. I’m still looking down as my eyelids automatically press together. I know where this is headed, and I know I’m not going to stop it. I’m going to be with Colt. And it’s not going to be angelic or good or anything to do with my dad, and I’m not going to care who gets hurt.

“I’m sorry about Jordan and me,” I say, to both of us.

“It’s okay, I guess. I’m proud of him for actually asking you.”

My eyes flicker to hers. “Why?”

“Well, you’ve never been very approachable.” She glances sideways at me. “I mean, before now. Before your dad died. Jordan’s braver than I thought.”

I nod. It’s true. He is brave. About a lot of things.

I've got to stop thinking about him like that. “You approached me,” I say.

“I saw you were having a weak moment.”

“You see a lot of things.”

I wonder what she’d see in my future. If it would be the same thing I see. I wonder if it would scare her, too.

Chapter 7

My cheerleader uniform is hanging by itself in the back of my closet. It’s Friday, the last home game, and standing alone in the large space staring at it, the memory of my old life is so close. It’s on the edges of my skin. I hold my breath, and I can almost feel it, that comfortable routine of pulling on the scratchy polyester, brushing my hair into a smooth, high ponytail, and then going through my day in that privileged, insulated bubble. Coming home and Dad’s here, working or waiting for me to help him try some new project.

I feel hazy as I take it off the hanger. I’m not on the squad, but I doubt Coach Taylor will order me to go home and change. I don’t know, maybe I wouldn’t care if she did. My eyes close as I slide the thick uniform top and skirt over my body in the most familiar way. I don’t do the ponytail, but I do brush my hair into smooth submission. When I open my eyes, standing in front of my bathroom mirror, for the first time since spring break, I look like the old Ashley.

It’s a lie. That girl is gone.

* * *

Mandy glances at me when I climb into her car. “I’m sure Coach T would let you back on the squad if you asked her. It’s understandable to have a transition period after you… you know.”

I don’t want to talk about it. Now I’m regretting even putting this stupid thing on. What was I thinking? I told Jordan not to make a big deal of it, and here I am wearing the stupid thing. I’ve been working so hard not to be this person, and then in a moment of temporary insanity, I dive right back into the costume.

Like it’s going to change anything. Like it’s going to bring anybody back.

“All my jeans were dirty,” I say, and look away, out the window. She doesn’t push it.

My transformation doesn’t completely register until I see Jordan at our lockers. He’s wearing the cords he bought and that blue shirt, and I notice his hair, thick and glossy. He looks so good. I do not touch him.

I stop in front of my metal door, and his ears go all pink when he looks up at me. I’m not sure how I feel about him responding to me that way, like he wants to touch me, too. I ignore the flutter in my stomach. Pointless flutter.

“You picking me up tonight?” I ask.

“Oh. Yeah, right.” He looks away quickly, fumbling to shove some books into his ground-level locker. “It’s weird they planned it on a game night.”

“This year’s class just has to be different,” I say through a sigh, twirling the dial on my lock. Jordan stands and slouches against the metal door beside mine.

“You look good.” He smiles, and I think about what Charlotte said about him being brave. I think about his quirky confidence and the glasses still trapped in my locker. That’s when I get it. He really doesn’t care what anyone thinks. He’s just doing his thing, following his heart.

“Thanks,” I say, looking back at my locker and wondering if it’s my heart I’m following. That’s certainly where my ripped-up emotions are trapped, and they seem to be calling the shots these days.

“And, I mean, thanks for going with me still,” he says, looking down at his books. “I know things got weird, but maybe if we spend some time together—”

“I won’t come around, if that’s what you’re about to say.”

“I was going to say you might understand better.” He picks at the metal spiral on his notebook. “I know what I told you is sort of…”

“Ridiculous?”

His eyes flicker to mine, and I know he’s being sincere. Again I want to touch him, but I don’t.

“I was going to say
unexpected
,” he says. “I don’t really understand it myself. That’s why I’m doing the thing this summer.”

“Becoming a missionary?”

“It’s more working with a group of missionaries, seeing what they’re doing, and being their helper. Seeing if I connect. If I’ve got what it takes.” He turns his back to the lockers and looks down. “Committing to a lifetime of service is a pretty big decision.”

“Which you’re too young to make. Nothing’s happened to you yet.”

He nods. “I know. And that’s why you’re one of the only people who knows about it. That I’m seriously considering this. But it’s something… I’ve got to try.”

Our eyes meet again, and his are so earnest. My thumb touches the silver ring on my middle finger, and my memory flashes back to me sitting at the bar in my kitchen with Dad. The way he’d look those days he’d talk to me about his work.

“Sometimes when Dad would finish an article, he’d say he felt it.”

Jordan’s brow creases, and I’ve got his full attention. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know exactly. I mean, I kind of did.” My whole body is shaky and afraid. Going down this road, back to those days with Dad, even carefully, has the potential to bring it all crashing in on my head. But I know I’m safe with Jordan.

“It was like he felt like his job was to encourage people to get healthy or something,” I say. “To find the key, whatever it took, to inspire them to make a change. He said that was one of the hardest things in the world. But sometimes, he’d write something he felt got close.”

“It was his calling.”

All of my books are in my hands, and my eyes are too damp. “Whatever. I gotta go.”

I take off without looking back. I don’t want to talk about these things with him. I don’t want him trying to lure me back to some phony way of life that’s all a lie. I did what was expected for years, and all it got me was to this place of pain and loneliness and anger. I want to lose these bad feelings and find that other one, that good one I felt in his bedroom.

And it didn’t have anything to do with Jordan. It was all just chemicals and hormones. If I’ve learned anything in the last six months, it’s that our bodies do what they want. We can’t control them or how they react. Being healthy, making the right decisions, it’s all a lie. Life is simply random.

I’ve managed to argue myself off the emotional cliff when I round the corner and spot Colt leaning against the lockers. My heart jumps. Mandy’s pressing into his chest, and he’s listening to her with a bemused expression on his face. She’s on maximum-flirt-overdrive, and I slow my pace to get my breathing back under control. I try to focus on Mandy’s rapid blinking and not my skittering pulse.

Random. No explanations. I get closer, and he looks straight at me. He straightens and moves away from her that grin back on his face.

“Hot Ash. Where’s your boyfriend?”

“I told you. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“And I have great timing.”

My heart beats faster, and I catch Mandy’s arm pulling her to me, realizing I probably look as flustered as Jordan did when he first saw me just minutes ago. I feel my face getting hot.

“We’re not going to double with you guys. It’s too weird,” I whisper, hoping no one hears me. Especially not one person in particular.

“God, at last!” She cries loudly. “Another sign you’re coming around.”

“Shut up!” I hiss. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Whatever, and for what it’s worth, I’m glad you found your hairbrush. It’s a sign you’re getting back to normal.”

That’s what she thinks.

Colt slides up behind us and puts his hands on both our waists. “Mmm… care to make a sandwich?”

Mandy giggles, but I jump away and start backing up. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

This morning has almost been too much, and I hurry to chemistry, thankful for the chance to hide behind a book and be quiet. Focus on something solid, science, numbers, and not all this crap in my head.

By lunchtime, I still don’t feel like talking or even being at school as I stare at my salad. Mandy’s piled it high with croutons, nuts, dried cranberries, bleu cheese. She considers herself a salad artist. A loud laugh from a table near the front of the room draws my attention, and I see Charlotte and her friends holding their mouths. It’s been so long since I laughed that way. I want to laugh that way again. This misery, this thinking about it all the time is exhausting. It’s wearing me down, and I’d give anything just to let it go, to lose this pressure for good. Instantly a wave of guilt passes through me.
How can I even think that
?

Mandy’s studying my face. “It must be that wounded kitten thing you’re doing that’s so irresistible,” she says, stabbing a forkful of salad into her mouth.

“What?”

“I’m saying, look at us. In these uniforms, we’re practically the same person. What else could it be?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know. You really don’t.” She stabs more salad. “I’m over here practically stripping trying to get Colt’s attention, and you walk up and it’s like… I don’t even know what. Static cling?”

“It’s not on purpose.” My uniform feels like it’s suffocating me. I just want it off.

“I know! That’s what’s so crazy about it. I’m like right here, ready to go, and it’s all wasted.” She shakes her head, stirring her greens. “I bet you don’t even know who he is.”

I shake my head, looking up at her now. I want to know.

“P.J. Sterling’s son.” She takes a big bite and watches me, waiting. “That’s what I thought. No idea, do you.”

“Nuh uh.”

“P.J. Sterling was the lead developer for practically every office park in Glennville. He has either a house or an apartment in every major city. Flies off to cool stuff like the opening of that new hotel in Japan? The tallest one in the world?”

“I thought it was in one of those Arab countries. Dubai.”

“My point is, he’s like an insider celebrity. Serious big deal in the engineering and development world.”

“So why’s his son here of all places?”

“You’ve
got
to start listening. I told you. He got expelled, held back. I think this is like his last stop before military school. His dad’s a State grad, and I guess he thinks Creekside’ll teach him values or something.”

That sounded familiar. “How do you even know all this?”

“Dad. They met at a big developers’ dinner, and he was bragging about his pride and joy Shadow Creek. Mayberry U.S.A.”

“So you should be the one to help him find his way around?”

“It’s practically my civic duty.”

I shrug and take a bite of salad. “I’ll do my best to keep out of the way.”

“No. That’ll just make you more interesting. Be easy, do whatever he wants, and then he’ll get bored with you.”

“Seriously? That’s your advice?”

She exhales loudly, as the bell sounds. “No. Hell no. I don’t know.”

“I wasn’t trying to get him to ask me out.”

“And yet he’s so ready to do it anyway.”

“Are you mad at me?”

I watch her collect her things. Her lips tighten, and I know she is. But she shrugs. “Your life’s been screwed up enough this year. Being mad at you’s like kicking a puppy.”

“But you still are.” And in a strange way, I want her to be. I want out of the bubble.

Her eyes flick to mine. “I’m going to the luau with him, and you’re going with Jordan. And whatever happens, happens.”

I pack up my half-eaten salad and follow her to the front. “That’s what I’ve learned.”

After school, Jordan is waiting for me at his mom’s old Corolla. He probably wonders why I never drive my shiny year-old Audi, but I hate being alone in that car. I should probably offer to let him drive it.

When he sees me, a smile warms his face and my stomach tightens. The fact that I warm up at the sight of him when I know it’s going nowhere is more proof of how messed up my brain is.

I speak first. “Hey, you want to take my car Friday night?”

“You too good for the old Corolla now?” He’s still smiling, and my silly stomach is still tight.

“Actually, I kind of like this old antique.”

“Then no way. I’m driving it.” He steps to the side and opens my door. I toss in my bag and hold the back of my short skirt as I sit. I can’t wait to get out of this thing.

My conversation with Mandy has been on my mind all afternoon, the randomness of her dad meeting Colt’s and him ending up here. The way it all just happened by chance, coincidence, no great plan or design. It fits perfectly with my new personal philosophy, with how I want to live now. Only I can’t think of it that way, like it was meant to happen, or that screws it all up.

Jordan slams his door and gives me another smile. He pauses a split second as if he’s considering leaning forward and kissing me, and I quickly look out the window, breaking the moment.

Jordan wants to keep me safe, to help me get through this. But I don’t want to be safe.
Safe
is a lie. The safest person on the planet can still choke to death or trip over their dog or get cancer. I don’t want that. Dreams and callings get you nowhere, and when you need them most, they disappear.

I want escape and random and chance. And Colt.