When It Happens

by Susane Colasanti

  It’s 2:17. Why doesn’t the boy call?

  I throw my pencil down on my desk. I stomp into the living room, fling myself on the couch, and pick up the remote. Seventy-three channels and nothing’s on! Not even a repeat of Dawson’s Creek makes me feel better.

  3:05.

  I try to eat an apple. But I’m too nervous to eat it all. I throw the other half out.

  3:11.

  Maybe I should take a nap. Why don’t boys come with a user’s manual?

  I lie down on my bed and toss my blanket on top of me. I close my eyes. Tobey is all my eyes can see. Even when they’re closed. Which just reminds me that he still hasn’t called.

  By the time I get up, the clock says 5:48. I’m going to be insane if the phone doesn’t ring right now.

  Right now right now right now.

  No response from the phone.

  Does he even remember who I am?

  Trying to do my homework would be pointless. I camp out in front of the TV for the next few hours.

  Then the phone finally rings.

  I try to adjust my voice so it won’t sound like I think it might be him. “Hello?”

  “Hey,” Tobey says.

  This tidal wave of relief crashes over me. “Hey, you.”

  “Sorry for calling so late. My dad was going over college stuff with me all day.”

  “Oh . . . that’s okay. It’s not that late.” I glance at the clock. It says 9:25.

  This was officially the longest day of my life.

  “I wanted to tell you that I had a great time yesterday, ” Tobey says.

  I swear, he’s, like, the perfect boy.

  “Me, too.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cool,” he says. “So, what’d you do today?”

  “Not much. Just . . . work and . . . stuff.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, I was wondering. If . . . you were thinking about . . . like, do you think you should tell Dave about . . . um . . . ?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  "Yeah?”say. "year?"

  "Yeah.”

  “Cool.”

  I think I just agreed to break up with Dave.

  So the next day at the arcade, I go, “We need to talk.”

  Maggie taps the eight ball. It falls into the corner pocket.

  “Let me guess,” Laila says. “No, wait. I don’t have to. I’m sure it’s about Tobey.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought you decided—”

  “Can I just tell you what happened?”

  “Something happened?” Maggie says. “Like, happened happened?”

  I bite my lip to stop the smile, but the smile wins. “Yeah,” I tell the orange ball.

  They race to my side of the pool table and crowd around me.

  “Tobey called me last night. And I agreed to break up with Dave.”

  Maggie’s eyes are huge.

  Laila goes, “So when are you dumping him?”

  “I’m seeing if he can drive me to the mall after school tomorrow. I’m going to do it there.”

  “Good,” Laila says. “I like the public-place approach. That way if he gets in your face, he’ll look like a psycho.”

  “Anyway, it’s not like he’ll be surprised,” I say. “Things haven’t been right between us for a while.”

  Maggie nods. “It’s a case of fake love. It’s classic. I used to do this all the time.”

  I go, “Huh?”

  “You know, fake love. As opposed to real love.”

  “Define.” Laila puts down her pool stick.

  “It’s like fake love is what you had with Dave,” Maggie explains. “You wanted to be in love with him so badly that you convinced yourself it was possible. And he’s not really who you wished he was, but you wanted a boyfriend so you settled for him. But all along you were like, ‘I want the whole package. I know he’s out there.’ And then Tobey comes along, and everything clicks. And now you realize he’s what you wanted all along.” Maggie taps her pool stick on the table. “That’s real love.”

  “The thing with Tobey and me is . . . we’re just so connected.”

  “Sounds like something real.” Laila clears her throat.

  “You love that,” I say.

  Laila smiles. “I’ll admit it’s sweet. But the whole idea of true love is ludicrous.”

  “I disagree!” Maggie says. “Anyway, I’m psyched for you! Everything you want is finally happening.” She hugs me. “Too bad . . . my life is over.”

  And just like that, she’s crying.

  Laila shoots me a look.

  I hug Maggie back. “What’s wrong?”

  She sniffs. “I found out something last night. . . .” She starts crying even harder.

  I’m paralyzed with fear, imagining what it could be. Laila digs in her bag for a tissue.

  Maggie takes a shaky breath. “It’s my dad.”

  “What happened?” Laila asks.

  “Is he okay?” I say.

  “Sure. He’s just great.” Maggie blows her nose. “Him and his whole other family in New York.”

  “What?” I say.

  “My dad has this whole other family in New York. We found out last night. He came back from one of his business trips, and Mom started yelling at him. She knew something was going on the whole time. But she never said anything to me.”

  “Shit,” Laila says.

  “They went into their room, and I could hear them fighting. Well, more like Mom was hysterical and Dad was trying to calm her down. Then he left with his suitcase. He didn’t even say bye to me or anything.”

  “That is so messed up,” I say.

  “And get this. It turns out every time he went to New York overnight, which was, like, every time, he would stay at his other house with his girlfriend and her two kids.” Her voice cracks. “They don’t even know about me.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mags.” I hug her again while she cries. Laila shakes her head at the pool table. Eventually, Maggie says, “Let’s bail.”

  So the one relationship I looked up to was a mirage all along. Like what I’ve had with Dave. And what I hope I never have with Tobey.

  CHAPTER 28

  different direction

  november 10, 10:10 a.m.

  While Mr. Perry waxes rhapsodic about derivatives, I’m checking out my new day planner. Ms. Everman gave it to me last week when I was freaking out about getting all my apps done and doing makeup work and writing my audition piece. She said that organization is the key to success. So I’m getting organized. Or at least I’m trying.

  “Mr. Beller!” Mr. Perry shouts. “Is there a particular reason your book isn’t open?”

  Since I have to get straight A’s now, a bit of ass-kissing is necessary.

  “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  Mr. Perry’s expression changes from expecting me to retaliate to utter disbelief. “Uh ...good.” He looks at me as if he’s never seen me before. “That’s good to hear.”

  I open my book and turn to the page everyone else is on.The book makes this crackling sound like this is the first time it’s ever been opened.

  One thing I’ve perfected over the years is appearing to be enraptured by a teacher’s lecture while thinking about other things. Which is probably true for most of us. I take a look around the room.You can tell that half the guys are thinking about sex right this second. Same with me.

  Sara’s breaking up with Dave at the mall after school. Then she’s calling Maggie to pick her up. I can’t because I have practice. Battle of the Bands is next week, and we’re still arguing about the damn drum solo Josh wants to add. But this afternoon, Dave will finally be out of the picture.

  And then Sara will be all mine.

  I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I feel like I’m wired on thirty cups of coffee and ten Red Bulls.

  School is eternal. Too bad Einstein’s dead. I’m sure he would have appreciated
my latest discovery within the space-time continuum.The closer you are to experiencing a monumental event, the longer time stretches out. It makes you feel alone.

  I still feel alone later in practice. Josh is trying to convince Mike and me that there should be a semi-improvised drum solo at the end of the song we’re doing. It’s “Feel Like Making Love,” this old Bad Company song. It was easy to agree on. It has this hard jam session near the end that you could take in a lot of different directions. Only Josh wants to take it in this way different direction.

  “It’s gonna get out of control.” Mike’s trying to talk Josh down from the ledge of public humiliation.

  “That’s the whole point! That’s what we want!” Josh springs up from his stool behind the drums. “Out-of-control chaos!” Josh waves his drumsticks in the air. “And the crowd goes wild!” He makes excited crowd noises.

  “Dude.” Mike wipes his hand across his face. “If the sound gets disorderly, no one will be into it. We have to reel them in slowly, and then build up gradually. We can’t just bust out all loud like that.”

  “I agree,” I say.

  The song has this strong drumbeat during the choruses, and there’s this crashing climax at the end. Josh wants to take the climax over the top and run with it. Like something you’d hear at a Metallica concert. But it’s too risky for a high-school showcase that we’re trying to win. For a second, I regret shooting down the ideas to do “Heaven” or “D’yer Mak’er.” But “Heaven” is this old Bryan Adams song that is way too safe and standard. And Mike’s vocals on “D’yer Mak’er” are scary. Let’s just say we’re not all that with the Led Zeppelin.

  “The sound is strong enough just covering it the way it is,” I say. "If we OD, it’ll blow up.”

  “He’s right,” Mike says. "Let’s run through it once as is, and then we’ll see what’s up.”

  Josh makes a tooth-sucking sound. “Fine.” He retreats to the drums, outnumbered.

  The song sounds great. It should by now. It’s only, like, the zillionth time we’ve practiced it. I do backup vocals with Mike.The harmonies sound awesome. And Josh totally kills on drums. We’re good to go. As we’re playing, I imagine blowing everyone away with our performance. Most of the kids at school have never seen us play. More important than winning is impressing everyone. I don’t know why I care. I don’t usually care what other people think. But for some reason, now I do.

  When I pull into my driveway that night, I notice a car parked across the street. Which is kind of weird since no one lives across the street. It’s just these woods. I briefly consider investigating, but I want to get some lyrics down that I thought of on the way home.

  The anxiety over what happened with Sara and Dave is killing me. Should I call her right now? Or should I wait for her to call me? But that’s ridiculous. I’ll call her.

  But I never get the chance to call her. Because as I’m walking across the yard, someone jumps out from behind a tree. And runs toward me.

  CHAPTER 29

  finally found

  november 10, 5:53 p.m.

  The mall is all tacky atmosphere and bad lighting and uncomfortable places to sit. It’s awkward. Just like the conversation we’re about to have.

  I was planning to take Dave to the food court and do it there. But I can’t wait anymore.

  “Dave?”

  “Hmmm?” The window of Victoria’s Secret is distracting him. As usual, anything that’s even remotely about sex is more interesting to him than I am. The frigid virgin.

  “We need to talk.”

  Dave shifts his backpack. “About what?” he says.

  I stop walking near the escalator. “Us.”

  I guess he can tell from my face that this conversation is about to get ugly, because he goes, “What’s with you lately, anyway?”

  “That’s what I want to talk about.” It’s occurring to me that planning out exactly what to say, although it seemed like a good idea at the time, was actually useless. “Look . . .” I don’t want to hurt his feelings. But how can he not get hurt? “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to go out anymore.”

  “You’re breaking up with me?” Dave laughs. “That’s rich.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Caitlin was right about you.”

  For the first time, I don’t care what his friends think. Or what he thinks. So I decide to ignore him.

  I’m expecting this huge confrontation with a lot of yelling. And I’m sure Dave wants to know why I’m breaking up with him. But he doesn’t even say anything else. He just turns and walks away. And the whole thing is suddenly over. Like we never happened in the first place.

  So that’s how it’s possible to break up with someone without hurting their feelings. It’s easy to do if they don’t care.

  When Maggie picks me up out front, the first thing I say is, “Go.”

  She swerves around other cars. “Where?”

  “Take me to Tobey’s.”

  “Which way is that?”

  “Turn left up here. I’ll show you.”

  “So what happened?”

  “It’s over.”

  Maggie looks at me. “Was it nasty?”

  “It was mainly just weird. And disappointing. It was like he didn’t even care. I’m sure he’s already scoping out some junior just dying to lose her virginity.”

  “He’s such an ass.”

  “Oh! And he was all shocked that I was the one breaking up with him. Like any day now he was going to dump me for not sleeping with him.”

  “He’s so conceited.”

  “I know!”

  I feel free. All of these possibilities are becoming reality. It’s just like I’ve been visualizing all along.

  “Well,” Maggie says, “you’re officially the coolest person I know.”

  “But who’s cooler than you? You were the one who rejected the popular clones first.”

  “Yeah, but you rule.”

  “Woo-hoo!” I roll the window down. What I just did finally hits me. “Yeah!” I yell out the window. “I did it!”

  “Yes, sweetie, you did. Now could you maybe roll the window up? It couldn’t possibly be any colder in here.”

  I roll up the window. I have that giddy feeling like when your life is going exactly the way you want it, and so you feel like asking someone questions about their own life.

  “Hey,” I go. “What’s happening with you and Rick?”

  Rick is the guy Maggie’s been seeing. They met in Tower when they both reached at the same time for the only 10,000 Maniacs unplugged CD left. Rick let her take it. Then she let him take her to Johnny Rocket’s. Rick is in college at Rutgers, but he still lives around here with his parents.

  “Not as much as I want,” Maggie says. “He only calls me like a couple times a week. I hate when guys play that game.”

  “You could always call him.” I point for her to turn up ahead.

  “No. I want to know how much he’s into me. If I call him, it gets too hard to tell.”

  “Maybe he wants to call but he doesn’t want to come on too strong.”

  “I thought of that.” Maggie clicks on her blinker to make a left turn. “But it doesn’t make sense. When we’re alone, it totally feels like he’s into me. But then . . . he doesn’t call. If he was really that into me, wouldn’t he call more?”

  “If you feel it, he’s into you.”

  “I feel it. But then I don’t know if it’s for real or if he’s playing me. You know?”

  “Yeah.” Maggie and Laila and I have wasted so much time talking about the mixed messages of Maggie’s many boyfriends. Guys she doesn’t even know anymore. But I guess it’s not a waste. If we didn’t spend so much time talking about what we want, how will we recognize it when it finally happens?

  Maggie slows down on Tobey’s street. There’s woods all along one side and houses on the other. She pulls over across from his house and turns the car off.

  “You sure you do
n’t mind waiting?”

  “Are you kidding?” Maggie says. “I’ll take any distraction from the home life I can get.”

  Standing in Tobey’s dark yard behind a huge tree, I don’t even care that I’m freezing. When his car pulls into the driveway, I crouch down. I hear the car door slam. I hear him crunching across the dead grass. I hear his car keys jingle.

  When he walks by me, I run out from behind the tree and throw my arms around his back.

  Tobey yells. He whirls around.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Can I walk you to your door?”

  I can see Tobey smile in the dark. Light from the streetlamp reflects off his eyes. “Sure.”

  I hold his hand. We walk to the porch and climb the stairs. Somehow I know I won’t be left alone on his porch, waiting for the kind of kiss I want.

  I look up at Tobey expectantly.

  “So,” he says.

  “So,” I say.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Okay. Everything’s okay.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tobey smiles at me.

  I smile at him.

  He brushes my cheek softly with his fingers. He leans down. And then it’s happening. Oh my god. He’s actually kissing me he’s kissing me and this is for real.

  Then I relax. And it feels like this missing part of me has finally been found.

  CHAPTER 30

  the only one

  november 21, 7:00 p.m.

  I try to block out everything about the other bands playing tonight. MindFlame rules. And we’ll rule Battle of the Bands. It’s simple. So what if Zack has a better guitar than mine. Or if Fred’s jeans are cooler than Mike’s. We sound better. That’s the bottom line.

  The gym has been transformed into a semi-cool space. It’s all dark with lights changing patterns on the walls. This portable thing our school uses as a stage for stuff that’s not in the auditorium is set up against the back wall. The bleachers are pulled out, and snack tables are set up near the entrance. When the bands start playing, everyone will cram in front of the stage.

  Eddie comes rushing over to me with a flyer. “Check it out,” he says. Eddie’s the emcee tonight. He does all this underground rap that actually isn’t too bad.