Jane elbows me as Brian asks the question for what is apparently not the first time if the looks on the faces surrounding me are any indication.
“Uh . . . think of what?” I feel like I’m coming out of a trance. There are a few laughs from around the table.
“Saturday? My place? Movie marathon?” He repeats the highlights of the conversation I missed.
“Oh, well, um . . . who all is going to be there?” My eyes flick to Trevor, who listens to all of this. Brian knows exactly who I mean, and his eyes follow mine.
“Everyone,” he says, shrugging.
“Oh.” I don’t know how to respond to this. I glance at Jane. “Well, Jane and I actually had plans on Saturday—”
“Only hanging out at my place,” she interjects, and I can see by her smile at Brian that maybe there’s a reason she’s not backing me up. “So we go to Brian’s and then we can sleep at my house as planned.”
“Um, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
Brian, thankfully, understands my hesitation. He nods in acceptance, though his shoulders droop in despondency. Next to me, Jane sighs—a little overdramatically, I think.
“Why not?”
For the second time in one day, two words are able to spin my world upside down. Once again, it isn’t the words; it’s who speaks them. My eyes dart to Trevor’s face, but his expression is difficult for me to read. I have no answer for him. He should know better than anyone why not.
“You guys should come,” he says, and then he grins at me. Not just any grin, but my grin, the one that brings out the killer dimples, the one given whenever he either wanted something or was genuinely happy about something having to do with me. The grin that knocks me to my knees. Good thing I’m already sitting down.
“We should?” I murmur inanely. He only smiles wider. Jane squeezes my arm beneath the table—I can take a hint, so I nod slightly.
“Cool!” Jane explodes next to me. “What time should we be there?”
Brian gives the details. I can only hope that Jane’s listening because my mind is whirling. Trevor holds my gaze for a few seconds longer—a few seconds that feel like an eternity. Then he turns back to someone next to him, sending my mind spinning with all of this morning’s confusion tripled.
So much for chilling out.
35. If Wishes Were Kisses
It’s the dreaded night of Brian’s movie marathon—dreaded for me, anyway. Jane is overly excited about it, though she gamely tries to hide it because she can sense my mood, sense my desire to skip the whole thing. She even halfheartedly offers to skip out on it, to call Brian herself and tell him we can’t come, but I hear in her voice how much she really wants to go.
“So . . . you and Brian, huh?” I tease her.
“Me and Brian what?” she asks innocently, then blows it by beaming a smile at me.
“Since when?” I ask.
“Well, not really at all—yet. But I’ve been picking up some very positive vibes from him for a while, since after the—” She stops dead, and I look at her questioningly. She isn’t looking at me at all and is suddenly busy looking through her vanity drawer for just the right shade of red for her toes. Her face is flushed. Odd.
“After the what?” I ask slowly.
“Nothing, it doesn’t matter,” she mutters, still not looking at me. “What did I do with that Candy Apple Red polish?”
I walk over to her vanity and pick up the bottle, which she had already pulled out five minutes earlier, and hand it to her. She stares at it blankly, then reluctantly meets my raised-eyebrow gaze. She sighs, pulling me down to sit on the bench next to her.
“All right,” she surrenders dramatically. “Since the night of Homecoming, okay?”
I stare at her for a minute, then laugh. She frowns at me.
“Jane, I’m not so fragile that you can’t say those words to me. It’s not like I’m going to forget that night if we never speak of it.”
“Really?” She eyes me skeptically.
“Really.” I put my arm around her and squeeze her shoulder. “I know I was a mess that night, but I’ve been okay since then, haven’t I?”
“Well, you seem okay, but we’re just kind of waiting for the meltdown, I guess.”
“We?”
Now she looks self-conscious.
“Brian and I.”
“So you guys talk about me? Waiting for the next time I fall apart?”
“It’s only because we care about you, and we’re worried about you.”
I watch her, seeing these very emotions flit through her eyes.
“Was I that bad?” I whisper.
She considers her answer, then decides to go with honesty.
“It was bad. I was really afraid for you.”
I laugh again, mirthlessly.
“I talked to him the other day,” I tell her. She’s taken aback.
“You did?”
“I told him I was sorry for hurting him but not sorry about what I had done because I would have missed knowing him and loving him.”
“What did he say?” she breathes.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” She’s angrily shocked.
“Yeah, but that’s okay. I needed to say it. But now he’s being . . . nice, I guess. Or maybe not nice, more like polite. I think maybe it’s worse than when he was ignoring me.”
“Maybe he’s trying to, you know, let you know he wants you back.”
“Hardly,” I scoff. “He knows that as pathetic as I am, all he would have to do is say one word and I’d be back at his side in a flash. No, I think it’s one of two things. Either he’s just met the limit of the amount of rudeness he can dole out to one person no matter how much he hates them—because if Trevor is nothing else, he is the epitome of politeness and manners.
“The other theory—and the one I think is more likely—is that he’s still so angry that he wants me to suffer more than ever, and the way to do that is to remind me of just what I have lost.”
Jane pulls her eyebrows together.
“I don’t think that’s it. Trevor doesn’t seem like he’s that mean.”
I sigh. “Maybe you’re right. I just don’t know anymore. So it probably is the first theory, but the bad thing is, it’s working on me in the second way.”
Jane wraps her arm around me and grins wryly.
“You really are pathetic, aren’t you?”
“I am,” I agree. “So let’s get this pathetic girl ready so I can go sit at Brian’s house and be even more pathetic while I pine away and pretend I’m not.”
⊕⊗⊕
I’ve been to Brian’s house several times before, of course, but always with Trevor. This is my first time back since he started hating me. Brian’s mom is one of those people who accepted me the first time I walked through her door—even though I looked scary—and has never treated me any different throughout my whole transformation.
Tonight is no different as she pulls me in for a hug, telling me how much she’s missed me. When I introduce Jane, she winks at me with a grin, and I know Brian’s been extolling Jane’s many virtues to his mom.
When we walk in, almost everyone is already there since we had to wait for Jane’s toes to dry before she could slip her sandals on. I think it’s ridiculous, but then I see the look on Brian’s face when he spies them and decide maybe she knows what she’s doing. Not that she needs painted toes to capture his attention—his attention isn’t anywhere else, which is highly unusual for Brian because he generally can’t be distracted from the TV when there is a sci-fi movie running.
Of course, my eyes unerringly seek out Trevor first thing. This is a mistake because now my stomach is in knots. He stands at the fridge, handing out drinks. As if he can sense me there, he straightens and looks right at me. I freeze—but so does he. He only stares at me for a few seconds, then turns back to the fridge. I wince—guess the politeness is over.
But then he closes the fridge and walks right over to m
e, handing me a diet Coke. He doesn’t say anything as I numbly take it from him, just offers me an unreadable look, turning away as soon as I have it in hand. Just like that, I’m off-center again.
I watch the movies blindly. My entire focus is on Trevor, who laughs and talks with his friends and who always seems to be near enough to me that I can’t ignore him but far enough that it’s clear we aren’t together. He even talks to two of the other girls that Brian has invited, making my stomach roil.
He’s definitely not ignoring me, though. Because I’m so focused on him, I see each time that his eyes flick my way. It’s fairly frequently. If I was confused before by his behavior, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now.
Finally, the eternal night ends, and people begin leaving to go home, except for us—Jane’s trying to lengthen her time spent with Brian—and Trevor. Like there could be a more uncomfortable grouping.
“Hey, did you guys walk?” Brian asks Jane.
“Yeah,” she tells him. Brian only lives a few blocks from Jane, and neither of us has a car, so how else would we get here? Fly?
“Want me to walk you home?” he offers gallantly. I would have said no, but Jane glows at the suggestion, so I just shrug.
“I’ll come with you,” Trevor suddenly offers, and my heart flip-flops. Why would he even want to?
“Okay, let’s go then,” Brian pipes in before I can say anything.
We walk through the house so Brian can let his mom know where he’s going, then out the front door. The sidewalk is not wide enough for three across but not narrow enough for only one, which means that Brian and Jane go ahead, holding hands, leaving me and Trevor side by side. I figure it goes beyond Trevor’s ability to be so rude as to walk in front of or behind me when it would be so obvious, which explains why he falls into step beside me. Our arms swinging by our sides accidentally brush—we both flinch. Trevor immediately shoves his hands into his pockets; I fold my arms across my belly.
Brian and Jane are in their own world, walking close, heads together as they talk quietly. Their intimacy makes for an uncomfortable silence between us.
“So . . . how’s Tamara liking school?” Trevor finally asks. I guess he’s as uncomfortable in the silence as I am. Odd question, though, since he’s seen her recently.
“Good. She’s doing all the typical Tamara stuff—sorority, clubs, that kind of stuff. She’d be a cheerleader if she had the time, I’m sure.” I smile.
“Yeah, that sounds like her. Seems like you guys get along a lot better these days. I remember when you used to call her ‘cheerleader’ like it was a bad thing.”
I’m stunned that he’s bringing up anything from our time before. I take a breath to calm my heart.
“There were a lot of things I thought were bad back then.” I shrug nonchalantly, though I’m feeling anything but. “Tamara’s not so bad. I like having her for my sister.”
“That’s good,” he replies. Silence descends between us again.
“I think you—”
“I wanted to say—”
We look at each other and smile uncomfortably at having both spoken at the same time.
“Go ahead,” I say.
He clears his throat.
“I just wanted to say thanks—you know, for coming over to see Todd. It means a lot to him. He doesn’t talk about anything else for two days after you’ve come.”
I think about the precious time I’ve spent with Todd—and seeing the trampoline in the backyard, bleak and empty. Kinda like me.
“Oh.” I don’t quite know how to respond. “That’s okay. I like Todd.”
“He’s easy to like. Still, you don’t have to do that.”
It occurs to me that maybe he’s trying to tell me not to come to his house anymore.
“If you don’t want me to . . .”
“No—no, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s . . . it’s fine. It’s a good thing. It’s . . . Todd likes having you there.”
I take a deep breath again. My heart aches for the days when it was easy between us, when I could reach out into that small space between us, take his hand, and have him glad of it. Not this strained awkward politeness. I look away and quickly wipe the tear that spills.
“It’s, um, it’s nice of you to come to the senior center too.”
My stomach clenches at his words. I know he isn’t happy about my continued appearance there.
“If that makes it bad for you, having me there, I could maybe come a different time or something.”
He’s quiet for so long that I begin to regret my words. While I would come a different day rather than not at all to see my friends there, it’s also one of the few times I get to see Trevor still acting like the old Trevor.
“No, it’s okay. We need all the help we can get.”
Not exactly the enthusiastic response I might have hoped for, I think. But also not the harsh rejection it could have been—only a mild one. We arrive at Jane’s house, and I’m both relieved and disappointed. From the sound of Trevor’s sigh, he’s only relieved. I try to ignore the cracking of my heart at the sound.
Trevor reaches out and grabs my elbow, and I stop cold. He releases me almost as soon as he touches me, pulling his hand back as if burned. He looks embarrassed but nods toward the porch where Brian and Jane stand close together.
“Uh, maybe we should give them a sec.”
We stand in the taut silence. Trevor is standing close to me, and I can’t help but think about the dance and the kiss—and all of the kisses that came before that. I’m torturing myself with these thoughts when I glance up at him and see him staring at me intently. He’s remembering as well.
The air around us is charged. Trevor leans in a hairsbreadth. I match him.
“Trev,” I breathe—like an idiot because that breaks the spell. He takes a step backward. “Trevor, I—”
“What was that?” he interrupts. “Before, what was it that you were going to say?”
I blink a couple of times, trying to clear my head, wondering how I almost had him kissing me again and now he’s stepping away.
“Oh, um, I was just going to say . . . I think you’re doing a really good job as the student body president.”
He looks at me oddly.
“Really? That’s what you were going to say?”
I shrug. “I didn’t know what else to talk about.”
Sensing dangerous territory again, he takes another step backward.
“Okay, well, thanks, I guess. Hey, Brian!” he calls. Brian turns toward us. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” he calls back, reluctant. He gives Jane’s hand a squeeze, then bounds down the stairs toward where we stand.
“Bye, Trevor,” Jane says.
He waves at her, then turns and begins walking back down the sidewalk. I stare after him, hurting. Brian gives me an odd look as he hustles to catch up with Trevor.
“See ya, Jen.”
“Bye, Brian,” I say.
“Bye, Trev,” I whisper.
36. Playbills and Pianos
Three miserable weeks later, I’m standing in front of my lonely, messy locker, trying to locate a paper that I know I put in here yesterday, or thought I did anyway—kinda hard to know for sure without any organization to speak of going on in here.
“There you are,” I grumble as I catch sight of the paper. I pull it out from beneath the stack—which then goes tumbling to the floor. I growl as the rest of the papers hit the floor and scatter around my feet. I’m still scowling at them, as if that would cause them enough fear to quickly jump up, reassemble themselves, and fly back onto the shelf in my locker when I hear laughter behind me—laughter I know better than my own.
I slowly turn around and see Trevor standing a few lockers down, leaning against one of them casually, hands in his pockets.
“Think that’s funny?” I mean it to come out sounding sarcastic, but it sounds pathetically whiney instead.
“Yeah, I do.”
He grins as he
straightens and walks toward me, the grin that brings out the dimples and nearly takes my knees out. I’m such a marshmallow. He stops right in front of me, stooping to gather the papers into a quick, tidy pile. He hands them back to me, still smiling while I’m trying to play catch-up with this new development. Then he pulls a paper out of his nicely organized backpack and sets it on top of the stack in my hand. I give it a cursory glance, but none of the writing registers. I’m much more interested in looking at him.
“I’m playing at the Theater Group’s show this Saturday.”
At the what? He reads my silent confusion and taps the paper that he has given me. I look back down and see that it’s a flyer, the same as all the others that are hanging around the school. I know about the Theater Group, of course, and am dimly aware that they have some kind of event coming up. Beyond that I haven’t really paid attention.
“You’re playing in the show?” I repeat inanely.
“Yeah.” He smiles at me again, scattering logical thought.
“Oh, cool,” I mumble.
At least, I think that’s what I say.
“Will you come?”
“Come?” I echo. “Where?”
He rolls his eyes, grinning.
“To the show.”
“To . . . the . . . ?” A flicker of intelligence lights in my brain, and I glance back down at the paper. “Come to the Theater Group’s show?”
For the first time, he looks a little uncomfortable.
“To see me play,” he says with a wry grin, shrugging.
“Oh. Yeah. Okay. Sure. I’d . . . I’d like that.”
“You don’t have to—”
“No!” My interruption is a little sharp. “I mean, no, I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
“Good. I’ll see you there.” His grin is back as he glances past me into my wreck of a locker. “You should clean that out,” he laughs as he walks away.
I watch him go, my mouth hanging open. I begin chiding myself for my lack of clever conversation while I had the chance, then suddenly it sinks in. Trevor just invited me to come see him play this weekend. A slow smile crosses my face as I turn to shove the papers back into my locker. It stays even when I realize that the paper I had been hunting for is now buried somewhere back in the stack.
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