He lifts a hand to his heart. “No, I swear. My source confirms. Nora doesn’t hate you. You still have a chance.”
Apparently, he’s not ever going to stop talking. “Abby? Is that who you’re talking about?”
He says nothing but tips his head in confirmation.
“I didn’t know you even knew her,” I say.
Kov doesn’t respond right away, which is not like him. He’s actually thinking about this girl. “Only in a matchmaking capacity. It’s a goodwill effort. Although she is sexy as hell.”
“Hey, Koviak, a word of advice about females like them, Abby and Nora? They hear you talk like that and they’ll rip your nuts off.”
“Dude,” he says. “Don’t worry about me. All I know is that Nora will be at the bonfire tomorrow night, and you will be, too.”
“No. I won’t.” I watch the TV, hoping he’ll get the hint. “No way. We’re not a thing. We can’t be. I’m not going.”
There. Argument over. Shut the hell up.
He half shrugs. “Then you’re an idiot.”
“Oh yeah? Why am I an idiot, Kov?”
“You really want to know?”
That shit-eating grin of his is pissing me off. “Yeah, please enlighten me with your wisdom, oh Jedi of love.”
He leans forward, in my face. I’ve only ever seen him look this serious when we’re on the field.
“Dude. Life…is like lacrosse.”
It’s hard to keep a straight face. “Really?” I chuckle. “Didn’t realize that.”
“Then it’s about time you did, son,” he says. “In lacrosse, you defend your team, you play hard, you make some goals, miss some goals, but in the end, no matter what you do, how hard you play, how much you give, it all ends in sixty damn minutes. When the buzzer goes off, it’s game over.”
“Wow.” I raise an eyebrow. “What the hell have you been smoking?”
He leans back on the cushion. “I’m just saying. Come to the bonfire. Don’t let the buzzer go off, dude. You won’t always have another chance to score.”
I can’t listen to this. “You’re such a dick,” I say.
He lifts a finger. “Ah, but a wise dick I am,” he says, trying to sound like Yoda.
I don’t respond, I turn all my attention to SpongeBob. Or I try. Kov’s not right, I don’t have a chance. She’d never give me a chance.
He kicks his feet onto the coffee table. “Dude, it’s the iron butt episode! I fucking love this one.”
Ari comes back in after a while and Koviak sticks around to watch a bunch of episodes with us. I barely see the screen. I’m thinking about Nora the whole time.
Eventually he leaves and I make my way upstairs to go to bed, stopping at the landing window that looks out to her house. It’s dark over there, and my mind goes to places that it shouldn’t. Up the stairs in her house, into her room, where I haven’t been for years. That big, soft bed. I imagine her inviting me up there—I wouldn’t go uninvited, because she’d kick my ass if I did—but in this scenario, she’d ask, and I’d lay her back onto that bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows and posters of Albert Einstein and the periodic table. Then I’d kiss her. Hard. And there’d be lightning and thunder and torrential rain. Hell, together we’d make a whole category five hurricane. Catastrophic damage would occur in that bedroom.
Now it’s never gonna happen. I blew it. Didn’t I?
As I hobble up the rest of the stairs, somewhere in those same dark corners of my brain, I hear a timer counting down. I’m pretty sure the game is over. Maybe it should be. Or maybe the clock’s in overtime, and it’s worth one last Hail Mary play before the buzzer goes off and she’s gone forever.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nora
The next morning, Mom pops her head into my room.
“What’s up, buttercup?” she asks in her dorky Mom way. I don’t hold it against her, though, because she looks wrecked. It’s midterms in dental hygiene school this week and she’s been at study groups late, trying to get this certificate that will allow her to get paid to clean people’s teeth.
“Nothing,” I say. Not entirely true, of course I’m not about to share with her that I had dreams last night that should disturb me about a certain boy next door. At this point I wonder if it’ll ever be possible to completely exorcise Eli from my life, from my brain, from my heart.
Then I remember, like a light flickering on. I hold back a smile. “Oh yeah,” I say. “I got an email from Emory.”
Instantly, her forehead crinkles up in worry. “Oh? And?”
I have to force my mouth not to turn upward. “I did get some scholarship money.”
“What?” She’s still worried. “Oh my God. How much?” She presses her hands together, holds them up to her mouth, like she’s praying. “Oh my God, tell me!”
That’s it. I can’t hold it in. “Most of it, Mom, and I qualified for work study, which they say should cover the rest. For four years.”
Then my mother screams. “Ohmygod! You did it! You did it!” She throws herself on my still-horizontal self and grabs me in a hug. “You did it! You did it!”
I start laughing and can’t stop. Mom has always been my biggest cheerleader, and right now she’s acting like I won a gold medal in the Olympics or something, which it feels like I sort of did.
She climbs onto my bed, sits cross-legged and starts to cry.
I sit up, swipe a tear off her cheek, and tug on her pajama sleeve. “Mom? What’s wrong?”
She sniffs and rubs at her eyes. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong! I’m just so proud of you, and amazed by you. You’re amazing.” She sniffs again. “You know that?”
“I’m just a good student, Ma, not amazing.”
I lie back, head on my pillow and she flops down at my side. She wraps her arm around me and pulls me to her, then kisses the top of my head. I feel like a tiny girl again, and I don’t mind at all.
“You are a good student, but you’re so much more, honey. God, I’m so happy for you. You have the world at your feet, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you—the adventure is about to begin!”
She squeezes me tighter and cries some more, and I’m surprised to find myself with tears in my eyes, too. This time I don’t feel like they are a waste of time. This time, they feel good.
Suddenly, she sits up. “Hey, let’s celebrate, let’s go get breakfast!” As she shimmies off my bed, her happy face turns back to me. “We can ask Eli, too!”
My smile is gone. “Eli?”
“Yeah, I mean, both of you—going away to school! I can’t believe it!” She must see in my face that I don’t know what she’s talking about, because she frowns. “Wait. You don’t know? Are you still in a fight?”
My nonanswer is her answer.
I swallow hard. “Eli is going away to school?”
She edges closer. “Yes? Oh, honey, I assumed you knew. He got a call from the UNF coach. They want him to play lacrosse.”
It feels like I just got punched in the stomach. I sit up, my back to Mom, so I can pull myself together. “Oh. Jacksonville?”
“I’m sorry. I assumed you two had patched everything up.”
“No.” I bite my bottom lip. “But good for him!”
My voice is high, and barely recognizable. I’m trying to take the high road for my mother’s sake, and be the bigger person. Except I don’t feel bigger. All I feel is my heart break a little bit more, and here I’d thought it was already shattered into microscopic pieces.
To make matters worse, after a slice of subpar blueberry pie at the Mermaid for breakfast, we go to see Gigi, who doesn’t remember us at all.
I almost cancel with Abby. I don’t feel like going to the bonfire. I don’t want to see all those people. I don’t want to hear the sneers of the girls who think I’m cold. I don’t want to hear them say that Eli is hot. I don’t want to see his teammates. I don’t want to go.
Oh hell no, Abby texts me when I let her know my feelings.
At six
sharp, she pulls up to the house, ready to go, not taking no for an answer.
One thing that’s good—I’m glad that Abby and I have started to hang out again, even if she is only using me as a cover for being perpetually grounded. I’ve missed her. We have a lot in common, and when I tell her I got the scholarship, her reaction is pretty much just like Mom’s.
“We are so getting you drunk tonight,” she says once we’re inside my car.
My body stiffens and I wonder if she’s serious. I’m not going down the vodka-orange juice road with her again. “You don’t even want to drive with me when I’m sober,” I joke, trying to calm myself. Even though I’m legal now, there’s still a wave of anxiety that sweeps over me every time I buckle up. I can still hear that poor woman scream, and I can also still imagine Eli beside me, trying to calm me down.
None of that is good.
At least his new piece of crap car—is that duct tape on the bumper?—is still in the driveway. Which means he isn’t going to the bonfire. Good. That’s exactly what I hoped for.
I inhale and exhale, channeling my inner capable driver, and we’re off, my mother waving from the driveway, tears still rolling down her face.
The bonfire is at someone’s grandparents’ beach house. It’s a long way off the main road, it’s dark, and I have no idea where I’m going, so by the time we get there, I’m frazzled.
I park and Abby swats my arm. “That was some first-class driving, girlfriend,” she says.
I guess she’s right, but there’s still a giant ball of anxiety in my stomach. It’s not just about the driving, it’s everything. Especially Eli. I’ve never done one of these things without him around.
Abby opens her door. “Come on, Nora, let’s own this bonfire.”
I’m not owning anything, but I follow her anyway.
We walk a few blocks to the house. It’s obvious that retirees live here. There are vases full of fake plastic flowers and plastic on all the furniture, which actually makes it perfect for a high school party. Go ahead, puke on the chair, it’ll wipe right up!
Almost immediately, Abby gets sucked into a group of girls that includes Veronica. When I think of her nasty comments at O’Dell’s, I make a beeline to the sliding glass doors at the back of the house.
It’s cooler tonight, the heat wave of the last few weeks finally lifting. I go out onto the deck, past a bunch of patio furniture where there are several couples making out. It’s impossible to tell who they are, and it would be weird to look too closely, so I pass through them quickly.
Out at the keg a few of the lax guys are filling their cups. “Hey, Nora,” one of them says. It’s Koviak, who hands me a cup. “Here, just poured this for ya.”
Even though I’m the designated driver, Koviak is a friend of Eli’s, and he’s being nice to me. I decide to keep my mouth shut and take the beer.
“Thank you,” I say.
He starts to pump another cup. “So, did you come with your boy?”
I might have spoken too soon. “My boy?”
“Yeah. Eli?”
I raise my cup, take a tiny sip, and cringe. God, beer is so gross. “Not my boy. And no, he’s not with me.”
Truer words were never spoken.
I turn away. The beach is in front of me, a wide stretch of it, filled with people I’ve known since I was nine years old. Friends, acquaintances, strangers, maybe a nemesis or two.
But no Eli, who at the moment feels like a mix of all those things.
Out on the sand, there’s a group trying to start the bonfire, and I see Caleb in silhouette. I guess I should probably go ahead and kiss him, except my hypothesis is in pieces, and the truth is, I still don’t want to.
I walk down the wooden deck stairs, take off my shoes, and let my feet sink in as I gaze at the sky. I’m pretty sure no one else here knows that the moon is in a waning gibbous phase, just after a full moon. That’s why it’s so bright, lighting up the sky and reflecting off the mirror smooth Gulf water.
It makes me think of the picnic, and being with Eli out in the water. Our first near-kiss since the actual kiss when we were kids. I shiver thinking how badly I wanted it to happen. I know this much—when I go to college in the fall, I have to toughen up. I can’t be so naive. I can’t let myself fall so hard. Even if my hypothesis has changed, I can still be rational and keep my head.
What other choice do I have if I don’t want a life filled with this kind of heartbreak?
I have to say, it totally sucks.
Chapter Thirty
Eli
I have a new plan.
My Hail Mary.
I went to the store today, bought some blueberries, and worked on a pie. The first one was crap. The second one’s crust burned. I guess the third one was okay. I’m not making a fourth damn pie, not even if it’s my last chance with Nora.
Ari’s been bugging me all night because he wants to eat it. The only thing that’s holding him back from taking a slice? His love for all things Nora.
We have that much in common—we both love her. When I told him it was for her, he smiled really big like he knew what I was thinking. He isn’t usually keyed in to other people’s emotions, so I might be wrong, but my brother surprises me all the time.
My plan is whack, and I’m fucking terrified. I’m taking it over there when she gets home from the bonfire. I’m doing it—telling her what I should have told her the other day. Yes, I should have kissed you. Yes, I want a second chance. Maybe I’ll get one.
Or at least maybe I can convince her to be my friend again, even though I know that won’t be enough. I want more and I have to tell her so. That’s why I’m nervous as hell.
I’m pacing around the house like a caged animal on crutches when a text comes through from Koviak.
Dude, you better come and get ur girl
There goes my pulse again, skyrocketing. What’s that mean? I don’t text him back. Instead I check my phone. There are plenty of posts about the party. It’s probably gonna get busted—these things usually are—and what if Nora gets caught? Who will driver her home if she’s been drinking? I know she drove, I saw her and Abby leave. What if Tex takes her home? Or anyone else? Anyone but me?
I stalk across my bedroom, at least, as much as I can with this knee. I have such a clear picture of her in my mind, tears falling down her face while I yelled at her.
I’m such a dick!
That’s it. I can’t stay here anymore. I fly downstairs, somehow without killing myself, into the kitchen, where Ari’s sitting doing the New York Times crossword puzzle. Kid’s so smart, he finishes it every day.
“Ari?”
“Eli.”
Mom and Dad went out to a movie, and I can’t leave him alone at home.
Everything in me wants to run out of here, but I need to keep my brother calm. I’ve got my eyes on the pie, which he still hasn’t touched. “You wanna go for a drive?”
He puts down his pen. He does the damn New York Times crossword in pen.
“To where?”
I steel myself for this last play, for my last chance to win the heart of the girl next door.
“I gotta deliver a pie.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Nora
I’ve walked down to the neighboring beach house, out of sight of the group of kids around the bonfire, which is blazing now. Lying on my back on the dry sand, legs stretched out in front of me, I stare at that amazing moon. I think of physics, and gravity, and the laws that govern the world. I’m trying to not think about Eli, but inevitably it all comes back to him.
“Hey, Nora.” I hear a familiar voice from behind. “Want some company?”
It’s Caleb. He found me. He sits down, and I can’t say I don’t welcome the distraction. Plus if we’re actually going to be friends, I suppose there’s no time like the present.
“You wanna come hang out by the fire?” He takes a sip from the plastic cup he’s holding and looks down at me. The drink that Koviak gave me is
beside me in the sand, untouched except for that first sip. I want to keep my wits about me and not do anything I’ll regret.
I sigh. “Nah, I’m good.”
“You okay?”
I shiver and sit up, hugging my knees to my chest. The temperature is dropping and without a word, Caleb takes off his hoodie, puts it on my back, and props it up on my shoulders, like the stand-up guy that he is.
“Thank you.” I wonder if I made a mistake, not kissing him, and then remind myself that I didn’t want to, and I still don’t want to. I still want…
A voice carries across the sand.
“Nora Reid?”
I jerk my head backward in disbelief, and push myself up to standing.
“Ari?”
There he is, trundling down the sand.
I gasp. Behind him is Eli, trying to navigate the beach on crutches in the moonlight.
God, he’s perfect.
No. He’s not. He’s mean and he broke my heart. I focus on Ari. “What are you doing here?”
He hits me with the bottomless dimple, just like his brother. “I brought you a pie.” He holds out his hands, which are, like he said, holding a foil-covered, pie-shaped object. “Eli made it,” he says. “It’s for you. Can I have some?”
I look at Eli. He’s stopped about ten yards away.
I glance at Caleb, feeling the weight of his jacket on my shoulders.
“Hey, Eli,” Caleb says, slow, with the drawl.
Eli nods at him. “Caleb.”
He turns back to me. “I’m just gonna go back over to the fire.”
I start to take off his hoodie.
“Nah.” He stops me. “You keep it, it’s cold out here.” He sticks his hands in his front pockets, looks to Eli again, then walks away.
I feel a weight lift off me. Eli brought me a pie. But what does that mean?
Eli takes an awkward step backward. “No,” he says. “He doesn’t have to leave. We should go. Come on, Ari,” he says. He turns around, then walks away—or tries to.
Wait, that’s it?
A wave of anger hits me hard, like a riptide pulling me under. “So, what, you just came to drop off a pie and leave?” I yell at him. Everyone at the bonfire hears me and turns toward us, and I don’t care. “What do you want, Eli?”
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