Everyone was watching me. They knew something was going down. Malcolm and Frankie had probably told everyone they knew, which was everyone, that I was asking Nell out, so the whole crowd of “cool kids” was standing in the hallway, not even pretending not to watch.
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I couldn’t puss out now. Damn it.
I swallowed the ball of dry nerves and clenched my trembling hands into fists at my sides. “So, Nell. I was thinking. You wanna go out with me tonight? Seven o’clock?” My voice hadn’t shaken or squeaked, and I’d sounded suitably nonchalant.
Nell’s eyes widened and she sucked in a surprised breath, then let out an excited squeal before chomping her teeth together to stop it. “Yes! I mean, yeah, sure. I’d love to. Where are we going?”
I had actually done some prep for this, thank god. “I was thinking Bravo. ”
She grinned again. It was an expensive place for high schoolers, and you had to have reservations, especially on a Friday night. I had an agreement with my dad: I would focus on my grades and football, and he’d make sure I didn’t need to work. I got a two-hundred-dollar bonus for every game we won, plus twenty dollars for every touchdown I scored. Our team was undefeated so far this year, and I’d already scored six touchdowns in the four games we’d played.
Yeah. My dad really pushed me to succeed at football. Winning was everything, second only to being “a real man. ”
“Don’t you have to make reservations to get in there on Fridays?” Nell asked.
I just grinned cockily and shoved my fist in my hip pocket. “Yep. ”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “How could you be so sure I’d say yes?”
I grinned even more widely, mainly to cover my hammering heart. “Well, you did, didn’t you?”
She couldn’t hold the serious look for long. “I’ll see you at seven, then. ”
I nodded and pushed past her into our classroom, ignoring the hushed whispers. I slumped into my seat in the back by the window and pretended not to see Nell doing the girly whispered freak-out with Becca and Jill. I wanted to have a whispery freak-out myself, but I couldn’t, because I was a man, and men didn’t show emotions.
Nell settled gracefully into her seat a few rows over and in front of me. She set her backpack on the floor beside her foot and bent over to open it, using the opportunity to steal a glance at me, blushing and smiling when she saw me looking right at her. I wondered in the back of my head if she would let me kiss her.
Probably not, but it sure would be cool if she did.
* * *
Fortunately for me, Coach made us watch a film instead of running drills. He let Kyle skip the film, knowing Kyle would study it at home on his own. The rest of us weren’t so lucky, so we were stuck watching Brighton games until almost six-thirty.
I’d planned on picking Nell up right after practice anyway, so I’d smuggled some jeans and a button-down shirt in my backpack. The shirt was wrinkled, but there wasn’t much I could do about that. I showered after the guys all left and then hopped into my truck. I’d bought the truck myself, saving my earnings from all of last year’s football season plus my end-of-year straight-A bonus to buy it. It was a ten-year-old F-150, black, long-bed, manual transmission, four-by-four. It was my baby. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. Dad couldn’t and wouldn’t take it away from me no matter what I did, since I’d saved and paid for it myself. He respected that.
He had his own kind of honor, in a warped way. He had no qualms about beating me until I pissed blood, but he respected my space and my things, and he paid my way as long as I earned it. He’d cut short his lessons if I fought back. Of course, the lesson would be shortened via me getting knocked out, but it would be less of a beating, so I’d started fighting back more regularly.
I drove to Nell’s house, my tires crunching on the gravel road. My nerves were wreaking havoc on me now. It was finally happening. I was going out on a date with Nell Hawthorne. I could picture her wearing a demure but sleek knee-length skirt, some kind of top that couldn’t disguise her incredible rack. Long strawberry blonde hair loose around her shoulders, just the bangs pinned back behind her head like always. She liked to paint her fingernails bright colors, usually red or orange or pink. Sometimes blue or green, but never black or gray or any dull colors.
I stopped in the middle of the road a mile from her house and tried to pull myself together. It was just a date. We were just two friends going on a date. Nothing else. There was no reason to think I’d get to kiss her. I wouldn’t even try to hold her hand. Just…hang out and talk. No need to get excited.
But I was. I was wired, I was so excited.
I let out a long breath, slapped my steering wheel with both hands, and whooped as loud as I could, releasing some of my built-up excitement. I was pumped, so worked up at the prospect of going on a date with Nell that I didn’t even feel my bruises.
I put the truck back in drive and pulled up to Nell’s driveway. My cell phone rang just as I was stopping in front of her house. I glanced at the screen, sliding the “answer” key when I saw Kyle’s name. The digital clock readout at the top of the screen read 6:54 p. m. , so I was a bit early. I’d been ignoring the fact that I’d have to tell him I was going out on a date with the girl who was closer to him than a sister. Now that he was calling, minutes before the date, I almost didn’t want to tell him.
“Hey, Kyle, my man! Whassup!” I faked enthusiasm to cover the rush of nerves.
The hesitation on the other end was louder than a shout. “Actually, Jason, this is Nell. I’m calling from Kyle’s phone…I—I forgot mine. ” Nell’s voice hit me in the chest like a ton of bricks.
Then her words registered. “Forgot yours? Where are you? I’m pulling up to your driveway right now. ”
An even longer hesitation. My stomach shriveled and sank at her next words: “Listen, I’m sorry, but I can’t go out with you. ”
Shit. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. “Oh, I gotcha. ” I tried to cover my disappointment, but I was sure she could hear it anyway. “Everything okay? I mean—”
“I just—I may have said yes too quickly, Jason. I’m sorry. I don’t think…I don’t think it’d work. ”
“So this isn’t a rain check, is it. ” I couldn’t disguise my hurt at this point.
“No. I’m so sorry. ”
“It’s fine, I guess. ” I laughed, realizing how stupid that sounded, especially since she could obviously tell I was upset. “Shit, no. It’s not. This is kinda shady, Nell. I was all excited. ” I had to get it together. I clenched my fist around the steering wheel and squeezed my eyes shut.
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“I’m so, so sorry, Jason. I just realized, after really thinking about things…I mean, I’m flattered, and I was excited that you asked me, but—”
I interrupted her. “This is about Kyle, isn’t it? You’re with him, on his phone, so of course this about him. ” I should have known. I really should have. Everyone always thought they were together anyway.
“Jason, that’s not—I mean, yeah, I’m with him right now, but—”
“It’s fine. I get it. I think we all knew this was coming, so I shouldn’t be surprised. I just wish you’d told me sooner. ” I sounded like a dick, but I just couldn’t help it.
“I’m sorry, Jason. I don’t know what else to say. ”
“Nothing to say. It’s all good. I’ll just…whatever. See you in chemistry on Monday. ”
I was about to hang up when her voice stopped me. “Jason, wait. ”
“What. ”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but…Becca has had a crush on you since seventh grade. I guarantee she’ll go out with you. ”
“Becca?” Shock laced my words. “Wouldn’t that be weird? I mean, what would I say? She’d think she was my second choice or something. I mean, I guess that’s true, but not like that, you know?”
Nell answered after a short pause. “Just tell her the truth. I backed out on you, last minute. You already have reservations, and I thought she might like to go with you instead of me. ”
“Think it’ll work? Really?” Becca? She was cool, but she wasn’t Nell. Out loud, I said, “She is pretty hot. ”
“It’ll work. Just call her. ” She rattled off Becca’s number, and I repeated it back to her, scribbling it on a receipt from a gas station.
“Thanks…I think. But, Nell? Next time you’re gonna break a guy’s heart, give him a bit more notice, would you?” I tried to inject some playfulness into my voice.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jason. I didn’t break your heart. We hadn’t even gone out yet. But I am sorry for standing you up like this. ”
“No worries. Besides, maybe something will work out with Becca and me. She’s almost as hot as you. Wait, shit, that didn’t come out right. Don’t tell Becca I said that. You guys are equally hot, I was just—” God, I sounded like a moron. Someone stop me.
Nell laughed, cutting me off. “Jason? Shut up. Call Becca. ”
The line went dead, and I stared at the rectangular bit of receipt paper with ten digits scrawled messily across the back. Becca? I wasn’t sure if asking her out was a good idea. I didn’t know much about her, now that I thought about it. I had the feeling she came from a pretty strict household, but I was just judging by the fact that she always dressed super-modestly, never showing much skin beyond short-sleeve shirts and knee-length skirts. Nothing low-cut, nothing up past her kneecap. She never hung around guys, never acted flirty, never showed up to parties. She was quiet, studious, kind and polite when spoken to, and people tended to leave her alone or be nice to her simply because she was Nell Hawthorne’s friend.
She’d had a crush on me? Really? How had I never noticed that?
I sat in the driveway for another few minutes, thinking. I nearly peed myself when someone knocked on my window. I rolled it down. Mrs. Hawthorne’s gentle, pretty face was scrunched up in confusion.
“Jason? Is everything okay? Nell isn’t here. She went out running with Kyle. ” Mrs. Hawthorne was the kind of woman you wanted to be your mother. Slender, with fine blonde hair and pale skin, she was the epitome of wonderful, always smiling, showing up to football games to cheer us all on, and she usually had baked goods. She knew almost everyone in town by name, and she liked to hug people. She usually smelled like cookies and faint perfume.
My own mother was barely a person, hiding out in her room and watching soap operas and reality TV, staying away from the battleground that was the living room. Dad knocked her around sometimes, but as soon as I was old enough to take it, he turned his fists on me and left her alone except for the twice-weekly thumping of the headboard against the adjoining wall between my bedroom and theirs.
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Everything’s cool. I thought we were hanging out, me and her and Kyle, but I got the times wrong. ”
Mrs. Hawthorne frowned at me. “Now, it’s not nice to lie, Jason Dorsey. ”
I grinned at her. “Me? What would I have to lie about?”
She frowned ever more at that. “I’ve known you since you were in diapers, Jason. I know when you’re lying. ” The corners of her lips turned up in a smirk that reminded me a lot of Nell. “I also know Nell and Kyle had some kind of argument, and I suspect I know what it was about. ”
“They argued?” This was news to me. “I just talked to Nell on Kyle’s phone. They didn’t sound mad at each other, I can tell you that much. ” I think I might have sounded slightly bitter.
She glanced at the ground, almost awkward, if such a graceful creature as Mrs. Hawthorne was capable of awkwardness. “I think they made up. ” She met my eyes. “You’ve always liked Nell, Jason. I know that, but she doesn’t. ”
I blew out a breath of frustration. It seemed like Frankie really had been right when he said everyone knew I liked Nell but Nell. “Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. I have a feeling she’s with Kyle now. ”
Mrs. Hawthorne nodded. “Yeah, that’s my thinking. It wouldn’t surprise me. I’m sorry, Jason. I know that must hurt. ”
I shrugged. “It’s fine. It always did seem kind of inevitable that those two would end up together, though, you know?”
Mrs. Hawthorne nodded again. “Yeah, I’ve always thought so. ” She turned a sharp gaze on me. “What are you going to do now?”
I fiddled with the gearshift knob, tracing the white lines and numbers. “I dunno. Nell said I should ask Becca out, but I don’t know about that. I don’t want Becca to think I was just doing it because I had no one better to ask, you know?”
“Hmmm. That’s not a bad idea, actually. I think if you told Becca the truth, she’d respect that. It might be awkward at first, but she’s a very understanding girl. She’d understand where you were coming from. Make it casual, though. Just go and talk to her. ”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“I’m sure. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” She touched my hand. “Jason? You know if you ever need anything, you can come here, right?” There was an edge to her voice, something deep and sharp. As if she knew something no one but Kyle would know.
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I just stared at her, unsure how to respond. “Thanks, Mrs. Hawthorne. You rock. ”
She smiled at me, and I was sure there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. As if she suspected. But it wasn’t like she could do anything, even if she did know, even if I did tell her what happened in the Dorsey living room.
I knew Becca lived in one of the newer subdivisions a few miles away, so I headed in that direction after leaving Nell’s house. I stopped near the entrance to the subdivision and dialed the number that Nell had given me.
TWO: Second Choice; a First Date
Becca de Rosa
September, sophomore year of high school
I swore under my breath as I tried to hurry through the last ten questions of my calculus homework. I hated calculus. It was tedious and difficult, but I had to be in all advanced classes to please Father. Or, rather, to maintain his approval, since pleasing him was all but impossible. The loud bass thumping of my brother Ben’s stupid rap music made it even more difficult to concentrate, especially since he’d turned it up louder after I’d asked him to turn it down. I loved my brother, but he was so very difficult, especially when he was in one of these moods, the depressed, angry times.
I had to finish this calculus, because if I didn’t, I knew I would never do it, and that meant I couldn’t leave the house. My parents were hideously exacting when it came to my academics. They demanded a weekly progress report, including all upcoming tests and exams, completed homework assignments and those due, and any possible extra credit. I was allowed three hours of personal “free” time every day, but only after all homework was completed. Which, seeing as I was in all AP courses, meant that I often did not get even as much as a single hour to myself. I usually labored over homework until nine or ten every night, and after ten I was not allowed to leave the house. I spent much of my time in my room, away from my constantly bickering parents. When I was not doing homework, I would write, read, or watch a television show on my laptop. I had precisely zero social life outside of school.
I had never been on date, nor would I ever, I often despaired. My life would be consumed by studies, words, numbers, tests, and exams. Even as I hurried through the last problem and then opened my notes on required terminology, I found my mind wandering. Calculus terms became something else, became what most things became in my mind:
Poetry.
I watched my mechanical pencil scribble across the page of my journal, which was always open near me, no matter where I was. I did not try to understand the things pouring onto the page. When my pencil stopped moving, I read what I’d written:
THE CALCULUS OF BOREDOM
The average rate of change
Seems to de
fine my axis of rotation.
The area of an ellipse
Definitely defines the constant term
Of my life.
My daily pattern of being
Is the end behavior of my
Bounded function.
Degenerate, derivative, differential,
Essential discontinuity,
Explicit differentiation,
Explicit function:
Exponential Decay.
I have no me,
I have only
The conditional convergence
Of their constant term
Of continuous function
Of disapproval.
Each decision seems to be
Part of a chain rule,
An annulus,
Or,
The region between two concentric circles which have different radii; or,
In other words…
My
Fucking
Parents.
I sighed, feeling a whisper of pleasure at the words. They expressed a part of me. I had four notebooks filled with poetry from the last few years, and the current one was two-thirds filled already. Poetry was my only pleasure in life, the only thing that allowed me any personality, any expression. Everything else was school and speech therapy and piano lessons. I liked the piano, and I knew I was good at it, but it wasn’t for me. It was expected of me, demanded of me.
I shook myself out of my reverie and returned to memorizing the terms for the current lesson, as well as the ones for next week. If I got next week’s homework at least started, if not finished, I might even manage some kind of free time. I finished the calc terms and moved on to economics, which was easy enough that I could put on headphones and listen to music. The first song to come up on my Pandora playlist was “Demons” by Imagine Dragons, and god, it was so apropos. So perfect.
I finished econ and was halfway through my reading assignment for my eighteenth-century Lit class—which actually counted for college credit—when my phone rang. My cell phone was the one concession my parents made toward me having some kind of social life. I was allowed to have a cell phone and an unlimited text and data plan, so I could text as much as I want. The only catch was, my parents would, without warning, take my phone and read through my text messages to make sure there was nothing untoward occurring in my life—where untoward equals fun or exciting or in any way interesting.
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