Leah on the Offbeat

by Becky Albertalli

  “Toward the aviary?”

  “Other left,” says Simon.

  “Okay.” He nods resolutely. “I’m going to just . . .” He starts to stand.

  “Nope. That’s a really bad idea.” I tug him back by the sleeve.

  “I have to make sure she’s okay.”

  “I guarantee she doesn’t want to talk to you right now.”

  Nick presses his hands down on the table. “Well, someone needs to go check on her.”

  “Fine,” I say quickly. The boys all turn to face me, and I feel my face burning. “I’ll go check on her, okay?”

  Then I push out my chair.

  There are trails veering away from the pavilion in every direction, and for a moment, I stand, frozen. I have no clue where to begin. Simon said she went left, but left could mean the picnic tables, or back through the trees, or she could have circled back behind the aviary. I have to put myself in her brain. If I’d just watched my ex-boyfriend kiss Taylor Metternich, which path would I take?

  Probably the one leading straight to the bathroom, so I could spend the rest of my life vomiting.

  But okay.

  I need to not overthink this.

  I pick the path through the trees, and it’s like stepping into a fairy tale. Girl in a gown walks into a forest. It’s strange how secluded this feels, even with the pavilion directly behind me. The trees are so thick, they’re practically a curtain, and the music sounds like it’s beaming in from another galaxy.

  A twig cracks beneath my shoe, and I shriek like it’s a bone.

  Then, out of nowhere. “Who’s there?”

  I freeze.

  Abby’s voice, slightly nervous. “Hello?”

  How nice: my body’s decided to mutiny. My feet are like barbells, my voice is nonexistent, and my lungs are totally checked out. But my heart’s beating like a hummingbird. I just stand there, staring into the foliage.

  “Okay, I know someone’s there.”

  “Abby?” I manage.

  “Oh, thank God.”

  “Why can’t I see you?” I’m peering all around.

  “I’m behind you.”

  I whirl around, and now I don’t know how I missed it: a wooden observation deck, up a short ramp, overlooking the lake. There’s a bench in the middle, and Abby’s sitting on it sideways with her legs tucked up. She waves when she catches my eye. I head up the ramp to meet her.

  “Way to scare the crap out of me,” she says, scooting down the bench to make room. But I walk straight to the railing and lean against that instead, my back to the lake.

  I peer down at her face. “What are you doing here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” I picture her on the ledge in the American Girl store bathroom. I can’t believe that was tonight. It feels like centuries have passed. “You keep running away.”

  “You keep finding me.”

  For a moment, I’m speechless.

  “Did you get my texts?” I ask finally.

  “You texted me?”

  “I was worried.”

  She pulls her phone out of her clutch and taps into her messages. Then she glances back up at me. “I mean, yeah, Nick’s an asshole.” She pauses. “But Nick isn’t the problem.”

  My heart flips. “What’s the problem?”

  “I swear to God, Leah.” She shakes her head, smiling faintly. “And you think I’m the dense one.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She just stares at me with an expression I can’t begin to decipher. Then she looks away, tapping back into her phone.

  I feel weird watching her type, so I turn to face the lake, resting my arms on the railing. It’s a quiet spot, with trees overhanging so thickly, you can only see a tiny pool of inky black water. But the effect makes it look like a wild, untamed lagoon. Distantly, in the pavilion, the song changes tempo. Something different but familiar. I shut my eyes and try to place it.

  “Check your Tumblr,” Abby says suddenly.

  My eyes flutter open. “What?”

  “Just check it.” Then she tucks her face into the crook of her elbow.

  I tap into my phone, staring into the brightness of my screen. My app is still logged into my art page, and I can see right away that I have a new ask. I don’t know how Abby knew that. Unless—

  I tap into the message, feeling like the ground just tilted. I have to read it three times before the words sink in.

  Commission request: two girls kissing on prom night.

  The whole world seems to freeze, and my lungs empty like a balloon. Two girls kissing. On prom night. I look at Abby, but her face is still buried.

  “Is this . . .” My voice shakes. “Are you joking?”

  She lifts her head to peek up at me. “Why would you even think that?”

  “Because. I don’t know.”

  “Leah, I’m just. I’ve been losing my mind.” Her whole body is tense and still, skirt trailing to the floor of the platform. And I swear, I’ve stopped breathing. Abby Suso wants to kiss me. At prom. Right now. My whole body feels electric: chest and stomach and everywhere below. It feels like having to pee, except it’s not actually pee. It’s lightning.

  She laughs nervously. “Please say something.”

  My hands fall to my sides. “I mean, obviously.” I swallow. “Obviously, I like you.”

  Her face falls. “But.”

  “It’s just the timing,” I say.

  “I know.”

  “Like, you don’t even.” I shut my eyes. “I just. I really like you.”

  “Me too. God. I think I’m . . .”

  “Me too.”

  We just stare at each other. My heart is pounding out of my chest.

  “I mean, the good news is that we’ll be at the same school,” I say finally.

  “We’ll be roommates.” She sniffs, and then smiles.

  “Yeah. That’s probably not a good idea.”

  “I don’t care.” She stands, suddenly, brushing her skirt down. Then she walks over to the railing beside me, hanging her arms over the side.

  I tilt my head toward her. “I just think we should let some time pass.”

  She sucks in a breath. “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I mean, you’re right. You’re very practical, Leah.”

  “I know.” I swallow. “This will be good, though. Nick will have moved on—”

  “Wait, are you talking about Taylor Metternich’s face barnacle?” Abby asks. “Because I’m pretty sure that Nick has moved on.”

  I smile sadly. “See, I don’t think he has. Not even close.”

  I turn to look at her, but she’s staring out at the lake.

  I keep talking. “It’s just that everything’s a mess, you know? With prom and graduation—and you’re right, we don’t want drama. Nick would be so—”

  “I know,” Abby says quickly. “Yeah. Nick would lose it. He’s already losing it. And Garrett too, probably.”

  “God.” Garrett. “Yeah.”

  “It just sucks.” She sighs. “I mean, I get it. I totally get it. And I shouldn’t have even—it’s not.” She covers her face. “I don’t know. I’m an idiot.”

  “No you’re not.”

  She laughs flatly. “Yeah, but I am. This is so—just. I mean, I screwed this up a long time ago. We could have been—” But she cuts herself off.

  For a moment, we’re silent. I feel my eyes start to prickle.

  “We could have been what?” I ask finally.

  “We could have been like Simon and Bram,” she says, her voice quivering faintly. “I was so—like, this whole time, this could have been us, you know? Being the cutest girlfriends and kissing and grossing everyone out with how in love we are.”

  And there it is: that runaway tear. I wipe it away quickly, but it regenerates. I hate crying. I hate it more than anything in the world.

  Abby sniffs. “We need a Time-Turner.”

  I laugh, and it s
ounds like a hiccup. “God. Are you like the biggest Potterhead ever now?”

  “Not really,” she says, smiling tearfully. Then she sighs. “I’m literally just trying to impress a girl.”

  “Oh.” My heart thumps.

  “So, yeah. This sucks.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And obviously I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  “Me neither. I mean, we just can’t. We can’t do this to Nick.”

  “I know.” Her voice cracks. “I know.”

  It actually hurts to look at her. “Abby, I’m so—”

  “Just don’t. Okay? It’s fine. We’re fine.” And even though her eyes are wet, her smile lights up her face. “This is totally my fault, and I get that, and just . . .” She turns around, leaning her back against the railing. “I don’t know, Leah. Maybe you should get back to your date.”

  “Abby.”

  “It’s fine! We’re good. I just need a minute.” She presses the corners of her eyes. “I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”

  I nod quickly. And holy fuck. I am dangerously close to sobbing. I can’t even form words. I just cut down the ramp and flee back down the path, without a backward glance.

  Of course, I’m back at the pavilion approximately ten seconds later, but I’m nowhere near ready. I can barely breathe, much less speak. It’s weird, but all I want to do is lie on the ground. Sleep in the dirt. I don’t even care about the dress.

  It just sucks, and it sucks harder because it was so painfully close to being wonderful. Imagine if the kiss in Athens wasn’t an awkward mistake. If I were a little less stubborn. If Abby were a little less clueless. What if she’d never dated Nick at all? What if we were out and happy and as famously in love as every other obnoxious Creekwood couple?

  Maybe Abby would have talked me into trying out for the play. Maybe I’d have spent a little less time watching the action from the back of the auditorium. Maybe I’d have spent more time making out in the back of the auditorium.

  Instead, I’m standing here watching prom happen from twenty feet away.

  My eyes land on Simon and Bram at the edge of the pavilion, in their jacketless tuxedos, leaning against the railing. They’re not dancing—just standing—and I can only see their backs. Simon’s arm is hooked around Bram’s waist, their bodies so close they practically blur together. And Bram’s hand sweeps smoothly over the nape of Simon’s neck.

  Sometimes watching them makes my throat hurt.

  The song changes again, and I instantly recognize the opening bars. Stevie Wonder. Mom’s song. Awesome, because what I really need right now is to feel Mom peering over my shoulder.

  Except. I don’t know. It kind of feels like a sign. Like a whispered secret message: don’t overthink this.

  Stop obsessing. Don’t overanalyze. And don’t cry.

  But it’s hopeless.

  My hands fly to my face, but these are full-body sobs. I can barely catch my breath. Because here are Simon and Bram, with their arms around each other, and they’re so fucking brave in ways I’ll never understand. And now we’re about to graduate, and all I have to show for it is the saddest crush of the century.

  And God. It would be so sensible to wait until college. To let Nick bounce back to normal. To let Garrett down gently. Let the dust settle. Let our friends know. Dip our toes in first, and let everything evolve slowly. We could ease into dating in a couple of months, if we wanted.

  But I don’t want to wait for months. And I don’t feel like being sensible.

  Don’t overthink this.

  Suddenly, I’m running, almost tripping over my dress, hair falling in my face. And it’s reckless and stupid, and probably pointless, too—because I doubt she’s even where I left her. I bet she disappeared entirely. I bet she—

  “Leah?” Abby says.

  And then I barrel straight into her.

  “Oof.”

  “Wow.” She grabs my shoulders to steady me. “Are you—” She stops short. “Leah, you’re crying.”

  “No I’m not.”

  “So, you’re going to stand here gushing tears, telling me you’re not crying.”

  “Yes,” I say. Then I take a deep breath. “No.”

  “Okay—”

  “Because I’m not just going to stand here.”

  The whole world stops, and I can hardly hear the music. All I hear is my heartbeat. I cup my hands around her cheeks.

  “I’m going to do this,” I say softly.

  And then I kiss her.

  Really fast.

  And now she’s gaping at me, her eyes huge and startled.

  My hands fall. “Oh God. You were—”

  “No.” She cuts me off. “Don’t you dare freak out.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Good.” She smiles, and then takes a deep breath. “Let’s try this again.”

  When I nod, she pulls me closer, threading her fingers through my hair.

  My heart thumps wildly. “My hair’s a mess.”

  “Yup. And it’s about to get worse.” Her thumb grazes my ear. “So much worse.”

  And suddenly, her lips are on mine, and my hands are on her waist, and I’m kissing her back so fiercely, I forget how to breathe. I feel like a campfire, like I could burn for days. Because the thing about Abby is that she kisses like she dances. Like she’s totally there. Like she’s handing you her heart.

  She pulls back, resting her forehead on mine. “So, this is happening,” she says.

  “I think so.”

  She exhales. “Wow.”

  “Is that a happy wow or a holy shit wow?”

  “It’s both. It’s holy shit, I’m so happy.” Then she kisses me again, and my eyes flutter shut. I feel everything at once: her thumb tracing my cheekbones, the quiet pressure of her lips. My knees are jelly. I don’t even know how I’m standing. I slide my hands up over her shoulder blades and pull her even closer.

  I am just. Holy fuck. I am kissing the girl.

  “You’re giggling,” she says, lips still flush with mine.

  “No way. I don’t giggle.”

  I feel her smile. “That’s such a lie.”

  “Maybe I only giggle around you.”

  “Oh, really?” She grins and draws back, hands falling to my shoulders. “God, Leah. Just look at you.”

  “Hot mess?”

  “Beautiful,” she says. “I hope you know that.”

  The way she’s looking at me makes me lose my breath. I press my fingertips to my mouth. I swear, my lips have a pulse.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asks.

  “You.” I don’t even pause. God. I’m never this unfiltered. But I feel giddy and wild and twenty times braver than usual. I kiss her again softly. “It’s like you give off light.”

  She shakes her head, smiling. “You are out of your mind.”

  “I seriously am.” I feel breathless, almost loopy. I press my hand to my cheek.

  And then suddenly, my eyes are drawn to Garrett’s corsage on my wrist.

  “Oh, hell no,” Abby says, following my gaze. “Don’t you start questioning things.” She takes both my hands, clasping them between us.

  “I’m not,” I say quickly, but I feel my stomach lurching. I just kissed a person who isn’t my prom date. I just—holy shit. I kissed Nick’s ex-girlfriend.

  “Leah,” Abby says warningly.

  “Okay, but—”

  “Nope. Just. Kiss me, right now.”

  “Just right now? On command?”

  “Leah,” she says again, rolling her eyes. Then she kisses me so hard that I practically unravel.

  Time stops.

  And something in me unlocks.

  “Okay?” she says finally, her voice cracking slightly. “Stop thinking about Nick, stop thinking about Garrett, and definitely stop thinking about if it’s a cliché to kiss on prom night.”

  I sniff. “It is a cliché.”

  “Whatever. Clichés rule.”

  I just look at
her. I can’t believe I’m allowed to do this. I can just stare at her face without it being creepy. I want to memorize every single inch of this Abby—the shine of her cheekbones and the brightness of her eyes. There are tears in her lashes, and her lips are sort of puffy. I don’t know how this girl can go from laughing to crying to kissing and back, and still come out of it looking like an actual moonbeam.

  I am done for. Totally, utterly, irreversibly done for.

  “So, I think I’m going to like having a drummer girlfriend,” she says.

  “Girlfriend.” My heart flips.

  She looks suddenly nervous. “Or not.”

  “Just give me, like, a second to process this.” I squeeze her hands. “Girlfriend, huh?”

  “And roommate.”

  I laugh. “That’s literally the worst idea ever.”

  “Like I care.” She smiles.

  “You are trouble, Suso.”

  “You have no idea.”

  I can’t even form words, so I shut up and kiss her. I swear to God, I could make a career out of this. Professional kisser of Abby Suso. She tugs me closer, hands falling to my waist, and I still can’t believe it. I’m wearing a prom dress on a dirt trail on a starlit April night, kissing the nerdiest fucking cheerleader in the whole entire world. This can’t actually be real.

  But then I hear it: the crunch of twigs beneath shoes, and the quietest gasp. Abby stiffens, and we quickly disentangle.

  Someone’s standing right behind me, watching. I slowly turn around, my stomach clenched with dread. I mean, what the fuck kind of day is this? What does the universe even have to say for itself? I forgot to buy a bra. Our car broke down. Our restaurant was bright pink. Martin Addison showed up in a powder blue tux, so now that’s forever burned into my brain. Everything’s a mess. Abby and I are the biggest hot mess of all. I don’t even know what we were thinking, kissing so close to the pavilion. Literally any Creekwood asshole could have stumbled up the trail and found us. Anyone.

  Except.

  Maybe the universe doesn’t hate me after all.

  Because when I look up, there are only two people staring at Abby and me with their mouths hanging open.

  Simon’s hand flies to his face. “Wait,” he says faintly. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say more, but then he just snaps it shut. Bram doesn’t say a word.

  Abby laughs nervously. “Surprise.”