by Kara Bietz
“Well, I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not.” I scratch my head and she bumps me with her hip.
“You have fun and be safe walking home, now!” Birdie says through the open window.
“Yes, ma’am,” Elijah answers. “Thank you for the ride.”
“And thank you for singing with me!” She waves her arm out the window as she drives away.
“You’re helping me with ticket duty, right?” Camille asks.
“That’s why we’re early.” I smile at her.
I straighten the collar of my shirt and turn to look at Elijah. His collar is still popped, and he’s managed to keep his khakis tight-rolled better than my jeans. On his feet are a pair of my old docksiders and no socks. He looks like a high school kid straight out of one of those movies they play on cable on Saturday mornings. The ones Birdie always claims were my father’s favorites.
We stay outside with Camille until the tallest and loudest pickup truck I’ve ever seen pulls into the parking lot. Bucky jumps down from the driver’s seat and a handful of football players spill out of the passenger door. Bucky enthusiastically volunteers to help Camille at the ticket table, and Elijah and I follow Nate and Darien inside. The gym has been transformed into a spectacle of neon and black lights. Everyone is literally glowing. A loud song with a heavy bass line is playing on the speakers, and a big group of kids are bouncing around in the middle of the gym floor under a huge spinning disco ball.
“Wow, the Guardettes sure know how to put on a party,” Elijah says, taking in the room.
Nate and Darien spot a group of cheerleaders near one of the speakers and leave Elijah and me alone near the door.
“Do you want me to ask the DJ to play some Barry Manilow?” I joke, elbowing him playfully.
“Knock it off,” he says, an embarrassed smile on his full lips. “My uncle Jacob used to play Barry Manilow all the time. We lived with him for a little while when we first moved to Houston.” His smile fades just a little bit.
I want to ask him about his time in Houston. I want to know where he was, what he was doing.
I want to ask him what made his smile fade just then.
Instead, I study the way the bottom of his nose curves gently into his top lip. My eyes travel up his face. The juxtaposition of his sad eyes under the spinning disco ball and neon flashing colors makes it very hard for me to keep looking at him.
“You want something to eat?” I ask.
He nods, and we wander over to the food table together.
“Ugh, look what the cat dragged in. Watch your wallets,” I hear someone say as we squeeze by a group of marching-band kids on our way to the chip bowl. The rest of the group titters behind their hands.
“Who said that?” I turn and face them.
They all look at me silently, eyebrows raised. No one admits to anything.
“You can all go to hell,” I say to them.
“Watch your mouth, Julian.” Evan separates himself from the rest of his group.
“Screw you, Evan,” I say, taking a step toward him. My gut tightens. Just looking at his smug little face pisses me off.
“That’s not necessary,” Elijah whispers next to me, putting his hand on the crook of my elbow.
“Come on, who made that comment? So big and bad until someone calls you out. Was it you?” I pull my arm away from Elijah and put my finger in Evan’s face.
Evan just chuckles and rolls his eyes at me.
“Hey, please don’t make a scene,” Elijah says quietly. “It’s really okay.”
“Maybe you need to learn some manners,” I say, jutting my chin toward Evan.
“Let’s just go dance,” Elijah says, pulling on my elbow a little bit. “Please.”
His please is more of a demand than a polite request.
I walk away, even though it’s the last thing I want to do. The music pounds through the speakers, and Elijah and I join a whole crowd of kids on the dance floor.
“I can’t stand that guy,” I tell Elijah, looking back toward Evan and his cronies.
“He’s not worth getting into a fight with, though,” he says.
“How can you just let him say stuff like that and brush it off? Doesn’t it make you mad? Those stupid rumors are bullshit,” I tell him.
Elijah just shakes his head. “That’s been going on my whole life, Julian. You’re just noticing now?”
I turn to glare at him. “What do you mean?”
“It’s the same thing that happened with Ms. Birdie yesterday. And at bingo,” he says. “Why do you think I was upset earlier about the pills?”
I clamp my mouth shut before finally admitting a lame “Oh.”
A little bit of guilt starts to chew at my insides. My dad was really well-liked in Meridien. So is Birdie. I don’t really carry any of the burdens that Elijah does, mostly just because of his last name. Maybe he was right earlier—I really don’t understand.
“Hey, let’s have fun,” he says. “Don’t worry about Evan or any of that stuff. I’m rocking this shirt and these sunglasses, and I’m not letting them go to waste.”
An old Wham! song comes over the speakers, and Elijah starts moving his hips and his feet in time with the music. A bunch of kids bounce around us in a big group, and the lights flash and pop. I try to copy Elijah’s moves. I am not a natural dancer.
He notices and starts to do more intense steps. He’s laughing, and I’m laughing when the song ends. Someone bumps into me, and I lurch forward just a half step toward Elijah.
“Oh,” he says, just an inch away from me. I look at the bright disco lights reflected in his dark eyes. The fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, the small dark blond curl that he tucks behind his ear. His face is so close to mine. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.
There’s a growing buzz in my head that reaches down to my fingers. I feel it in my bones and in my lips and in my intestines and in my cheeks.
“Isn’t this the best?” Camille and Bucky come up behind me just as the next song starts pounding through the speakers. She grabs my shoulders and spins me around, Elijah disappearing from my vision. I look for him, but he’s disappeared into a mass of our dancing friends. My stomach is still buzzing, and I don’t answer Camille. Slowly the feeling starts to come back to my fingers, and I spot Elijah dancing just a few feet away. I meet his eye through the crowd, and he gives me a tiny private smile.
Bucky stays close by and starts doing some country steps in his scuffed cowboy boots. To Bucky, “dressing up” includes shaving, jeans without holes, and his nicest belt buckle. I watch Elijah try to learn Bucky’s moves while Camille and I goof around doing ballet positions in time with the music. Well, Camille does ballet positions. I try desperately to keep up.
Eventually, Nate and Darien and a few of the cheerleaders join the group, and we just widen the circle. We’re having a blast, sweating our asses off in the decorated gym. Elijah is opposite me in the circle, and I watch the disco ball throw dancing white light across his cheeks. His whole face is smiling, and it’s the first time I’ve seen that since he got back to Meridien.
The DJ puts on a slow song, and all around us, our friends are coupling up. I watch Camille wrap her arms around Bucky’s neck, and I raise my eyebrows in Elijah’s direction. He mirrors my expression.
“Want to go outside?” he asks.
It’s dark in the circle drive outside the gym, with a few students standing here and there laughing. Elijah sits down on the concrete planter. I sit down next to him.
“So, Bucky and Camille?” Elijah says with a chuckle.
“Bucky’s been waiting in the wings for years.” I laugh. “Maybe he figured tonight was finally the night he was going to stop thinking about it and just go for it. Good for him.”
“She looks pretty happy, too,” Elijah says.
“She deserves to be,” I answer. “In the past, she hasn’t exactly had the best luck in the romance department.”
Elijah doesn’t a
nswer, and the crickets and bullfrogs fill the silence between us.
“I’m surprised no one has asked me about Taylor tonight,” I finally say.
I hear Elijah swallow hard next to me. “The night is still young.”
I chuckle. “I suppose that’s true. You feel ready for the game against Stephens City tomorrow?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he answers.
I hear a catch in his voice. It’s something I remember about Elijah, that when he’s this quiet for this long, he’s working up the courage to say something or ask something. I let the darkness fill the space around us, knowing that he’ll spill whatever he’s got in his head when he’s darn good and ready. I just need to give him the space.
My breathing falls into the rhythm of the night noises around me, and I can almost forget Elijah is sitting next to me. He’s so quiet and still. Behind us, muffled voices and music seep through the gym doors and spill out into the driveway.
“Our dads were friends,” he finally says into the darkness.
I turn my head to him. “What do you mean?”
“I found some pictures of them together in the shed last night when I got the pans for Ms. Birdie. Completely by accident,” he says. “You didn’t… you’ve never seen those pictures?”
“No. I didn’t…” I shake my head. “I knew Birdie had a box of his things in the shed, but I never looked through them. I couldn’t really… I just never did. I don’t remember him having any pictures of people other than family up in our house.”
“I don’t know if they were real close or anything, but they were definitely buddies. Football buddies,” he says.
“I wonder why no one ever told us,” I say. I try to wrap my head around it. My father was a football hero in Meridien. The only thing I know about Eric Vance is that he’s been in jail since just before Elijah and I started middle school.
Elijah is quiet after that. The crickets and bullfrogs seem even louder when we’re not talking.
“I’d never hurt you on purpose, you know,” Elijah says.
I turn to look at him in the dark. His face looks sad.
“That day in the locker room,” he says, looking down at his lap. “Things were complicated for me at home and… I didn’t mean…”
He lets out a heavy sigh and runs his hands through his hair before looking back up at me.
“I screwed up,” he says, reaching his hand across the concrete planter and finding my fingers. He loops his pinkie around mine.
“I thought you hated me,” I say.
“Not even close,” he answers without turning his head.
“You didn’t even say goodbye.”
Elijah shakes his head. “I couldn’t.”
“But that doesn’t even make any sense. Why couldn’t you talk to me? What did I do? You just… disappeared, Elijah. And I spent all these years just wondering what happened to you!”
Inside the gym, the music stops, and we hear the DJ on the microphone telling everyone to drive home safely. Elijah lets go of my pinkie as groups of kids spill out of the gym and into the parking lot.
Bucky and Camille come out holding hands. Darien and Nate are with them. I want to tell them to go back inside. All of them. I want to finish talking to Elijah, but I know he’s going to clam up now that everyone else is here.
I don’t have all the answers yet. What if I never do?
I thought he hated me.
Not even close. His words just a minute ago replay in my head and turn my insides to Jell-O.
“Can I drive you guys home?” Bucky asks while we all stand outside the gym. He grips Camille’s hand tight.
Elijah hangs back away from the group.
“We’re going to walk, thanks,” I tell Bucky, hoping to get a few more minutes alone with Elijah.
“I’m going to walk with them!” Camille says, dropping Bucky’s hand.
“Wait… are you sure?” he says, looking lost without his hand in hers.
“Yeah, are you sure?” I say. I know Elijah won’t talk if Camille is with us.
“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiles and stands on her tiptoes to give Bucky a kiss on the cheek.
“But…”
“Bye, Bucky,” she says.
He walks backward into the parking lot with Darien and Nate. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Camille.
“So that’s new,” I say to her.
She shrugs one shoulder and smiles all sly. “He’s nice.”
“He’s been pining for you since kindergarten. Since when did you start thinking of him as nice?” I use air quotes.
“Since tonight, I guess.” She smiles again, never taking her eyes off of Bucky walking backward through the parking lot.
Elijah slides up next to us while the other three climb into Bucky’s truck. “Must be the belt buckle,” he says.
We laugh until we can’t breathe.
· eighteen ·
ELIJAH
We watch Bucky’s truck pull out of the parking lot and wave as it turns onto the road in front of the school, random laughs still erupting from all three of us.
“What happened in there, anyway?” Camille turns and asks Julian. “I heard you almost got into it with someone?”
“Ugh, it was just that asshole Evan. Running his mouth again,” Julian says.
I hope he doesn’t tell Camille the details. It’s not a big deal, and I just want to forget about it.
“Best thing I ever did was kick that kid to the curb last year,” she says, shaking her head.
“You’re telling me.” Julian laughs.
We walk for a block and a half in silence, and Main Street is starting to come into view just past Crossroads Church.
“Want to grab a burger?” Julian asks.
“Always up for Burger Barn,” Camille says.
“Sure,” I say even though all I have is a five-dollar bill in my pocket. I can at least sit with them. Maybe have a Coke or something.
We go inside this time, piling into a turquoise booth under the buzzing fluorescent lights. Menus are already on the table, but no one even glances at them. I look across the table at Julian and catch his eye while Camille digs in her purse beside me. He smiles with one side of his mouth, and I try to smile back.
I’m still hiding the big thing from him. Coley.
I probably would have told him if Camille and everyone hadn’t come outside at the dance. It was on the tip of my tongue. I would have just apologized later and explained myself. Frankie would understand. Maybe.
But then there were Camille and Bucky holding hands and Nate and Darien and the whole school spilling out into the parking lot, and the moment was gone.
I’ll tell him. I will.
I have to.
He thought I hated him, and I can’t let him continue to think that.
“Cheese fries?” Julian says when Camille pulls her head out of her purse.
“Cheese fries are always the correct answer,” Camille says. She turns to me in the booth. “Cheese fries?” she asks.
“Oh, um… nothing for me,” I say, pretending to be completely engrossed in the end of my fingernail.
“Nonsense,” Camille says in a fake British accent. “There’s a rule. Cheese fries before every home game. It’s the only way you’ll win. Duh.”
“I don’t have any—”
“Hi!” The server, a pretty sophomore girl with a high ponytail and a nametag that says MERRI in block letters comes over just then with a tray full of sodas and sets one down in front of each of us. “Daddy says y’all better win tomorrow afternoon.” Her voice shakes, and she nods toward the kitchen. A tall man with a hairnet stands flipping burgers at a huge grill. “Dinner’s on him tonight.”
“Thank you, Mr. Brannigan.” Julian raises his soda glass toward the kitchen. “First touchdown has your name written all over it.”
Mr. Brannigan salutes Julian with his spatula.
Camille leans across the sticky table and whispers, “We never pay at
Burger Barn the night before a game. Julian’s like a local celebrity. And I’m guessing after tomorrow, you will be, too.”
“I don’t know about all that.” I laugh.
“What? Are you nervous about tomorrow or something?” Julian asks, peeling the paper from a straw. His eyes are soft. He’s looking at me differently than he did at the beginning of the week.
I stretch my legs out under the table and let my foot rest against Julian’s ankle. He doesn’t move. “Maybe a little. I haven’t been out on the field in a game since eighth grade,” I remind him, meeting his eyes. He moves his foot a little so that his shoe strokes my ankle lightly. “I was gone before our first game freshman year. That’s a long time to go without touching a football. Or wearing cleats or strapping on pads or any of that stuff.” The more I talk about it, the more my stomach ties itself in intricate knots.
Or maybe that’s because of the feel of Julian’s foot on my skin.
“You’ll be amazing,” Camille says. “Once you get out there and hear the crowd cheering, you’ll fall right back into it.”
I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s going to go, but I appreciate Camille’s optimism. In my head, there’s a lot more sweating, vomiting, and dizziness involved.
Merri brings a big platter of cheese fries and three small plates to the table. “Careful, they’re hot,” she says, speaking only to Julian.
“Thanks, Merri,” Julian says, smiling at her. Her cheeks turn three shades of pink, and she can’t look him in the eye.
Camille waits until Merri turns and heads back toward the kitchen before she whispers, “Should we tell her you’re gay or just, I don’t know, let her stumble upon that massive heartbreak all on her own?”
“Knock it off.” Julian rolls his eyes, but I laugh out loud.
“Oh! Someone who appreciates my jokes! You’re my new best friend, Elijah,” Camille says, throwing her arm around my neck and pulling me close for a big, noisy kiss on the cheek.
Julian makes a face while he drags a fat French fry through the cheese sauce pooling on the giant plate in front of us. “Not that either of you care, but I have come to a decision about the Taylor prank,” he announces.