I bit my lip as an effort to smile at his joke, but I had too much on my mind to actually find it funny. "Trace," I said before I could talk myself out of it, "you didn't ask me to dance last year at the Valentine's dance."
Trace's lips fell as he took in what I was saying.
I continued with a nervous laugh, "You probably don't even remember this, but my friends Clarissa and Nina asked you... "
"I remember." Trace hugged his arms around his chest and narrowed his eyes as he spoke, "Of course I remember that."
"So why are you paying all of this attention to me when you obviously don't like me?"
"Who said I don't like you?"
I threw my hands up in the air. "You didn't ask me to dance, Trace! If you liked me you would have asked me to dance!"
"I was planning on asking you dance." He leaned closer to me with a sense of urgency in his voice. "It took me a minute to find you, okay? But by the time I did find you, you were already dancing with Jess Tyler."
I swallowed as I recalled that day. I supposed I hadn't given Trace much time before practically leaping into Jess's arms. "You could have cut in," I said flatly.
"And take you away from Jess Tyler?" Trace shook his head. "I watched you two together that day. There was something going on there."
"Maybe there was," I said gloomily, "but not anymore."
I wasn't talking to Drew either. Or maybe she wasn't talking to me. I wasn't sure anymore. I noticed in German class that she always sat alone in the back. Carmen, Stella, and Stephanie sat on the opposite side of the room, and Trace usually found a seat somewhere around me. I liked talking to Trace, and it was great to have someone to walk with through the halls, but despite what everyone in our class was thinking, we were just friends.
It was almost noon on the last day of school. The halls were mostly empty since everyone was let out early to go sign yearbooks on the soccer field. I was running late though, mostly because I still hadn't cleaned out my locker and partly because I didn't know who I would possibly ask to sign my yearbook.
I was walking through the halls with my hands full of old notebooks and a few pop cans that I had just scoured from my locker. I was sauntering slowly past the lockers, soaking in my last day as a junior high student when I noticed a familiar shadow at the end of the hall. It was Drew, and she was at her locker. She was squatting on the ground, stuffing the last of her things into her backpack when she turned to the sound of my footsteps echoing in the hall.
"Hi," I said as I approached her. I stopped next to her locker and waited to see how she would respond.
She stood up slowly and looked me in the eyes. "Hey."
"Can I ask you a question?"
Drew bit the side of her cheek as she considered it. Eventually she nodded.
"Why did you become friends with me?"
Drew folded her arms. "Truthfully?"
"That would be nice."
She watched me carefully as though trying to determine whether I could handle what she was about to tell me. She stood perfectly still, barely moving her lips when she said, "You looked lonely."
I pitched my head forward in shock. "Lonely?"
Drew shrugged her shoulders. "I thought you could use a friend."
Nothing she could have said would have surprised me more than that. I had always looked at Drew as a selfish person-there always had to be something in it for her. For the first time ever, I felt like I was seeing the real Drew. And it was answering a lot of questions. It explained why she had been so insistent on me sharing her locker with her even though there was barely enough room for my notebook. It explained why she wanted to throw a party with so many people at my house. It may have even explained why she stopped being my friend when the party was a bust.
I watched Drew as she picked up her heavy backpack and shut her locker one last time. I was sad that I had let so much time go without knowing the truth about her.
Drew started walking down the hall and then paused to see if I was going to follow. When I fell in stride beside her she asked, "What are you doing this summer?"
The thought of summer made my heart ache. "Not much. You?"
"I'll be at my dad's in Atlanta."
"Oh yeah." She had told me that back in March when we were friends on a daily basis.
"You'll probably hang out with Jess, right?"
I sighed heavily, "No. He's going to California."
"California? Why?"
"Same reason as you, to be with his dad."
"I didn't know his parents were divorced. He always seemed like he had a perfect life."
"I don't think anybody has a perfect life," I responded. I opened the door that led outside, and we both stepped out into the sunshine. "Are you going to the yearbook signing?"
Drew squinted into the light. "I don't think there's any point. I can't think of one person who would want to sign my yearbook."
"I know what you mean."
Drew looked up at me and with a hint of hesitation asked, "Do you want to come over to my house?"
I was caught off guard by her invitation but somehow not all that surprised. "I would, but I promised my mom I'd be home this afternoon to help her with some stuff."
Drew pursed her lips and looked down at the ground beneath us. "Well, I guess I'll see you next year?"
"Maybe we can be locker partners."
Drew bit her lip and nodded. "That would be good." She shot me a half smile before turning toward the road that led to her house. I watched her as she walked away, and as I did I thought about the past few months since we had become friends. We went through a lot in that time, and I figured if we had made it that far, maybe our friendship was stronger than I thought.
I turned the opposite way and headed toward mine and Jess's shortcut home. Even though he hadn't been there to walk it with me for an entire year, in my mind, it would always belong to both of us. I made my way across our old soccer field, through our hole in the fence, and around our concrete jungle. It seemed so much smaller now than it used to. I sat for a while on our block wall and looked out over our trees and our lake. And as I made my last steps home on my last day in junior high, I felt a little bit older, a little bit more mature, and a little bit more comfortable in my bra.
"What are you doing here?" I asked callously when I was within a couple feet of him.
Jess pulled himself to standing and stuck both of his hands deep in his jean pockets. "I just wanted to say goodbye," he replied. His eyes were turned down at the corners, and I thought he looked a bit pale.
"When are you leaving?" I was dying to know, but I shielded my emotions by speaking as flatly as I possibly could.
"Tonight."
His answer stung my ears and the tips of my toes. But I shrugged my shoulders and walked passed him up the stairs. "Have a nice summer."
"Gemma." Jess's voice was firm as he called after me.
I turned around when I reached the top of the porch. "What?"
"Why are you so mad at me? You haven't talked to me in weeks. Is this really all because I didn't tell you I was going to California?"
It was a valid question. One I had thought about many times since that night on the street. I was hurt that he hadn't told me, but no, that wasn't why I was angry. I was angry at him for not caring. I was angry at him for not wanting me the same way I wanted him. But I didn't say that. Instead I said, "It really doesn't matter. I've hardly thought about it."
Jess lifted his chin and stepped backward toward the lawn. "Really, that's good. I was afraid you were mad."
"I've had a lot going on so... " I waved my hand at a bug as my lie floated away with the breeze.
Jess nodded and puffed out his bottom lip. "How are things going anyway, with Drew and Trace and all that?"
I faked a smile. "Trace kissed me at that party." I leaned against the porch railing. "It was just a game, but no one else got kissed on the lips."
Jess flexed his jaw and looked down at the grass. "Sounds like thi
ngs are working out for you then."
No, not at all actually. I didn't even like the kiss. I wish it had never happened. I wish the person who kissed me was you. "Yeah, I guess.
Jess looked at the house behind me, then at the ground again, then at a nearby tree. He couldn't look me in the eye. He hated me for letting Trace kiss me. He always said I was too immature for stuff like that. And now he couldn't stand to look at me.
"Well I got to go," Jess said as he backed away farther toward the sidewalk. "I need to pack still."
I turned toward my house and opened the front door. I spoke to the doorknob as I muttered, "Have a good trip."
I stepped through the door and closed it behind me, but just before it shut I heard his soft voice say, "Bye, Gemma."
"What you thinking about?" Dad asked.
I waved my hand at the television with a smirk. "Cowboys and Indians, obviously."
Dad pointed the remote control at the screen and hit pause. "Come on, what's on your mind?"
I scowled at the piece of hair I was twisting between my fingers. "Jess."
"When does he leave for California?"
"Tonight sometime." I looked out the window toward his house. It was starting to get dark. "He could be gone already."
"Did you say goodbye?"
"I guess." I slouched into the couch. "Things between Jess and me are just... " I paused to think of the right word, "confusing."
Dad let his head rest on the back of the couch. He was looking better these days, but he was still tired. "What's so confusing about it? You two are best friends. You love being together. What more do you need to know?"
I looked at Dad from the corner of my eye. I had never admitted to anyone that I had feelings for Jess. But there was something about the way we were sitting there together, eating pizza and watching a cowboy movie that made me want to open up to him.
"Sometimes I think I want to be more than just friends with him."
"But?" Dad asked with raised eyebrows. He wasn't surprised with my confession.
"But he doesn't feel the same way about me."
"How do you know?"
"I just do," I said more harshly than I meant to. Every time I talked about Jess or thought about Jess I felt rejected. I was beginning to hate the sound of his name. "Dad?" I was hoping to change the subject, though my next question was anything but easy to ask. "Are you going to die?"
Dad turned his head toward me again and took in a deep breath of air. "The doctors are giving us every reason to hope." He brushed his hand over my hair, which fell against my back. "That being said, it is possible that I will die sooner than I'd like."
I stared blankly at the paused movie in front of me while hugging my knees close to my chest. My stomach started tightening, and I felt like I wanted to throw up. "We're never going to go up to the Cape again, are we?"
He dipped his chin toward his chest. "Probably not."
I nodded my head like it wasn't a big deal. I didn't want to make him sadder than he already was.
"I know it's hard, but," he hesitated, "it's kind of like the problem you're having with Jess. Right now it seems earth shattering, like it's the end of the world. But from my point of view, I know that it's not. I know that you're only at the beginning of your story. The experiences you're having with Jess and all your friends are just life lessons for the bigger things that will come later on. And I think that it's the same with my illness. Right now the idea of dying is," he paused for a moment, "well, to be honest, it's downright terrifying. But I have faith that we don't have the whole picture. And I have faith that there's someone out there that does, and he knows that this is only the beginning. He knows that the experiences I'm having here on earth are just preparing me for the bigger things that will come later on."
"You mean, like life after death?"
"Yeah, like life after death." My parents had raised Bridget and me to believe in God and heaven, but now that it was a reality that was staring us in the face, the whole idea became more than a Sunday school lesson. It was real, and for the first time in my life I had to actually decide what I believed in. I bit my lip. "What do you think heaven is like?"
"Oh, I don't know." Dad sighed and folded his hands behind his head. "I think it's a place where there are no bills, no taxes, and no debt." He chuckled. "It makes me wonder why I'm so scared to go there."
"Maybe it's just the not knowing," I offered.
"I'm sure you're right." He brushed my hair again with his hand. "You know what I really think, though?"
"What?"
"I think heaven is just like our road trips to Cape Cod. The windows are down, The Beatles are blaring from the stereo, and you and Mom and Bridge and I are all singing at the tops of our lungs with the wind blowing through our hair." Dad lay his head back on the couch cushion and let a wide grin spread across his cheeks.
"And," I added, "there are endless fields of whistle grass." I couldn't help but think about Jess right then, and his pathetic attempts to make a sound through a blade of grass. I had thought he looked so cute that day, the sun shining in his hair. His lips puckered against his thumbs. I missed him so badly that my heart literally ached.
Dad looked up at the ceiling deep in thought then said, "You know, Gem, this thing with you and Jess ... it will all work out. Jess cares about you, and he'll be back in a few months. There's no need to rush things." Dad's eyes began to slowly close as his hands relaxed on his lap. He was tired, and I needed to let him rest.
I gathered up our plates full of uneaten pizza crusts and dropped them in the kitchen before starting up the stairs to my bedroom. I was startled when dad's voice filled the silent house once more. "That being said," he paused, and I turned on the steps to wait for him to continue, "life is short, and if you don't let Jess know how you feel about him, the moment might pass you by."
"I'll be right back, Dad!" I shouted as I jumped over the last step of the staircase and breezed past my dad. He was watching the cowboy movie again, and he lifted his arm and yelled, "Good luck!" as I flew out the door.
I stared up at Jess's big, dark house as I tiptoed around to the backyard. The window to his room was lit, and a spark of excitement filled my chest. I picked up a handful of small rocks and lobbed one at his window. I missed. I threw another one that smacked against the glass. The curtains behind the window fluttered, and soon Jess's sister, Vivian, appeared through the open glass. "You again," she said smugly. "Don't you know you could break the window?"
"Can you go get Jess?" I said with urgency in my voice.
She curled her lips. "He's not here. He and my mom left for the airport ten minutes ago."
Her words fell on top of me like a load of bricks. I had just barely missed him. I hopelessly stepped backward and turned into the darkness. "He left you a letter, though." I jerked around at this new bit of information. Vivian disappeared into the room then came back with a folded up piece of lined paper in her left hand. "He asked me to give it to you. Here." She dropped the paper out the window, and it fluttered down to my feet. I picked it up and muttered, "Thanks." I left Jess's house and walked down the street to the concrete jungle. I pulled myself up onto our usual wall and unfolded Jess's letter. The sun had been down for a while now, but there was still enough light in the hazy gray sky for me to make out the words on the paper in front of me.
Gem,
There's so much I want to tell you that I have never had the guts to say out loud. First of all, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner that I was leaving for the summer. When I found out I had to leave-it was the worst news I could think of. I didn't want to go to California. I didn't want to have to live with my dad all summer. And I didn't want to leave home. I guess I thought that the longer I went without saying it out loud, without seeing your reaction, the less it would hurt. But I was wrong. Because it's not the saying it out loud that hurts. It's not even your reaction that hurts the most. The thing that hurts the most, that makes it hard to sleep at night, is not being wit
h you.
Second, when you first told me that Trace kissed you I was so mad. Not because you had your first kiss, because you're beautiful and you deserve to have your first kiss with a guy that you like. But because the honest truth of the matter is-I was hoping that I would be your first kiss. And even more truthfully, I've always sort of hoped that I would also be your last kiss. There, I said it (or wrote it, actually) but it's out there and now that you've read this far into the letter I'm worried that you are disgusted by what I've said and won't ever want to talk to me again. But this is written in pen so I can't erase it now.
And lastly, the past three weeks that I haven't been able to see you and talk to you have been the longest three weeks of my life. So if this letter freaks you out in any way let's just forget about it. We can just be friends. I can handle the rejection, I can keep my true feelings to myself, but I can't stand to not have you in my life.
Your Best Friend (and secretly more),
Jess
I took in a deep breath and tried to recover from the gush of confessions. I squeezed the letter between my fingers and scanned it once more with glistening eyes. Had he really written those words? Was it true that he secretly wanted to be more than just my best friend? I brought the letter up to my nose and breathed in its scent. Even the paper smelled like Jess. My heart ached to have him on the wall next to me, his arm around me, his eyes gently watching me. But he was gone, and there was nothing I could do but spend the long, hot summer alone, waiting for him to come home.
I folded the letter back up and gently slid it into my jeans pocket. The night was humid, and my clothes and hair were sticking to my warm skin as I made my way off the cement wall. I looked up at the dark sky. Thick gray clouds blocked my view from the stars. It was going to rain. I tried to picture Jess in my mind. What was he doing? What was he thinking? I had no way to get a hold of him. No way to tell him that the kiss with Trace meant nothing. That the only one I ever really wanted was him. I stepped into the street and thought about that day-so long ago-when I thought I heard Jess say that he loved me. Had I heard him correctly? Had he been feeling this way for that long? I felt a raindrop on my nose. As I wiped it away, a clap of thunder crashed against the sky. The smell of a summer storm filled the air, and a million tiny rain drops began tapping the ground around me. I grasped my ruby in my hand, the ruby that was supposedly the most powerful gem in the world-like me, he had said, and like us. Were we really that strong? Were these feelings we had for each other powerful enough to carry us through the summer? I reached into my pocket and caressed Jess's letter with my fingertips. Would he still feel the same way when he returned? Was I ever going to feel his lips against mine?
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