by Anne Eliot
“Come on. It's not as bad as you're making this out to be. That other guy—you don't understand. It's not what it seems…or…it's just confusing, that's all. As for the long nights. I'm sorry if you couldn't sleep. You know I can't control that.”
Kika's face crumbles into complete worry and anguish and she starts to cry. “I don't care about sleep. Do you know I've been trying to stay awake in case you need me? But you don't. You never ask for help. You never come to my room anymore.” She gulps. “You haven't talked to me—you haven't even looked at me—since I saw you at the sports complex. I miss you. I'm scared for you.”
My heart sinks. We hardly ever fight. And, she's right. I've never shut her out of my life before. “I know—” I start, but she won't let me finish.
“What I don't get is why you've played this really weird boyfriend prank on our whole family. I can only think you're, like—doing drugs. Or you're in some sort of trouble. Are you pregnant?”
I gasp. “This is not a prank. And this is definitely not me on drugs. I can't believe you'd think I was pregnant! Not even close. My entire future is at stake right now. It all rests on how things go for me this summer. Sue me if I've been a bit distant, but I've been busy working on my future. And it's not going very well. That's all. It's not personal, or against you, or Mom or Dad. Nothing like that.”
She shakes her head and her eyes are icy cold. “Give me one reason not to tell on you right now. Say something real. Honest. If you even know how what that means anymore.”
How could I let things get this out of control? I hate myself right now. Mostly at myself for breaking my sister's heart like this.
I sigh, knowing I can't lie to her anymore. “You want real? Fine. Let's start with the fact that I'm in love. Head over heels, hopeless love. And with the absolute—most gorgeous guy I've ever known. He's perfect actually. You saw him at the rink.”
“I knew it. I knew I was right about him and you.”
“But you aren't right. Truth is, I'm paying that guy to be my pretend boyfriend for the whole summer. And he's done an amazing job making everyone believe he and are the real deal. And I've fallen for him, like an idiot.”
Kika's chin drops. “No way. What's his name?”
“Gray Porter. His best friend is Corey Nash, the other dude you met that night. We just traded their names to keep you and Mom confused. Corey and Michelle—they don't even know what we've done. No one does. Except you. I can't let Mom and Dad find out none of this is real.”
“What about the internship? Please tell me you've been driving to a real job every day.”
I grimace. “The internship's legit. That's why I'm so tired. Why the nightmares are so strong. No time for car naps. I was thinking about quitting a week early. I just want to finish out this week. Make it to Sunday. But if you tell on me today, you'll ruin everything I've worked so hard to set up.”
She throws her arms wide. “How can I ruin everything, if your nightmares are back and your boyfriend isn't even real. Sounds like your pretty much a total disaster, right here and right now.”
I sit on one of the benches and let out a long sigh. “Yeah. I know.” I lean back and meet her gaze. She sits on the bench across from me as I continue, “If Mom and Dad find out what I've done—if this information leaks at school—I'll die from the humiliation. I've pulled back from everyone because I'm trying to salvage some of the situation. My self respect, and my plans for college at the very least. But now, I don't even know if I have what it takes to make to college. Maybe Mom's right. Maybe I'll never be able to move out of this house.”
“Oh. My. God. This is so messed up.” Kika pulls in a ragged breath.
“I stayed away from you because I didn't want to admit that you were right about the dreams getting worse. I knew you'd worry too much. You always do. I'm going to ask for help. Soon. I'm asking you to wait three more days. You have to believe me, by Sunday's BBQ the entire thing with Corey Nash and Gray Porter will be solved. Over.”
“How?” She arches one brow.
“I'm planning on breaking up with my boyfriend before the barbecue starts.”
“But which one will you break up with? Corey? Or Gray?”
I feel my cheeks grow hot. “Both. Gray, I guess, and Michelle too. You'll never see any of them again so it doesn't matter. And I'll be back to—normal. Back to my kind of normal, anyhow. I'm begging you. Give me the next few days. Real or not, my they are all I'm ever going to have with this guy. Heck, with any guy, and I know it's selfish of me, but I really want those days.”
Kika sputters, “So—no one—no one at all is coming to this BBQ except for our family?”
I nod, working to swallow the lump in my throat. “Just us.”
“What in the heck do you plan to say to Mom and Dad on Sunday?” Kika jerks her head toward the kitchen. “Mom's been cleaning the house and acting like a crazy homemaking freak. She's making me plant more flowers with her out front! What are you going to say to make any of this okay?”
“Easy.” I shrug. “I'm going to tell everyone the truth. Then, I'm going to shell out the answer I always use: I'm sorry. Because, Kika. Shit. I am sorry. You know I am. Then, our family can have a nice talk about all the shenanigans I've pulled. How I've actually made no progress at all. And what a sad, messed up, mental-case I'll always be.”
I look away from her astonished gaze as I go on, “Dad will retreat into his office, Mom will cry, and you'll try to make everyone happy by being the nice, perfect one—as always. My college will be on hold, of course. I'm sure Dr. Brodie will have me back on his couch by Monday afternoon.”
I stand, keeping my face a mask of serenity. But inside, I've become so heavy I'm amazed the weight of my permanently messed-up life doesn't simply push me through the wood floor. I wish it would. Being sucked in to the center of the earth has to feel better than this.
Kika crosses her arms. All of her angst fades away as the realization of what I've said sinks in. “OMG. That completely sucks. I think you completely suck.”
“Yep. You're always the last to believe the crap-ass truth about me. I'm glad you've finally ramped in. Newsflash: I've sucked for three years. I'm sorry I lied to you, though. I won't do it again. Of course—I won't expect you to believe in me for a long time. It's only fair.”
I head out of the alcove, but Kika grabs my shoulder. She's shaking her head back and forth as though she wants me to deny all that I've said. As if she wants to say more. But she knows what I've said is true. Her face has mottled to patchwork pink and white. A signal that she's about to have a major cry session so no more words are going to come out of her mouth.
My heart breaks to look at her. I soften my tone. “Don't tell on me. It's only three more days. I want a chance to say goodbye…to Gray…to the job. To the best summer I've ever had. Gray and I have plans to hang out all afternoon tomorrow. And then, Saturday is ThunderLand. I've never been there. Even though it's totally fake, every second with that black haired, green-eyed boy is better than anything I've ever known. You must understand a little why I don't want to let it go. For me, this is all I'll ever get to have. Just go upstairs and put away the laundry. Plant the darn flowers Mom wants you to plant. Play along, Kika, please. Let me have just a couple more days of being in love before I have to go back to square one. Please.”
Without a word, she shoots me a tear-filled glare and runs upstairs.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gray
Jess. IK ur reading these. Txt me bk. Txt me bk. Plz.
I click send, and then cut and paste the same message into my phone and send it again. And again. No response.
“Damn her,” I mutter.
“She's still sick? What does she have? Chicken pox? The plague?” Michelle leans on the rink snack counter. Her smile tells me she knows there's something bigger connected to Jess's absence.
“Yeah. She's got it bad.” I pretend to check my email, unable to meet her eyes.
“Dude, you're ma
jor whipped. I think you've checked that phone a total of sixty times in the past two hours.” Corey shoves a dripping nacho into his mouth. “Send her some flowers, make up already. I miss the girl bossing me around.”
Michelle punches Corey's shoulder lightly. “Shut up, would you. They're fine. You guys are not breaking up are you?”
I open a can of cheese sauce to refill the pump, thankful the complex isn't busy tonight. “It's—not what you think. We're not fighting. She's been really run-down. The girl's not used to so much activity. We've had some long days on the tradeshow project, and she's been moved into the shipping department until the tradeshow next Monday. All the new info has overwhelmed her. I'm going to see her tomorrow. We've both been given a half day off for good behavior. We just need to hang out. Reconnect. You know how it is.”
“I've never seen you actually moping after a girl,” Michelle says. “It's so cute.”
“Jess won't text you back. She won't pick up your calls, and you are saying things like you need to reconnect?” Corey sticks his finger down his throat and fake-gags. “Smells like trouble in paradise to me. You kiss her, yet?”
I shake my head and open the next can of cheese sauce.
“Porter, you've held back all summer long on that move. Go for it, show her some skills. That should cure her from whatever she's got. You should just mmm….and mmm, and then—ooh, yeah.”
I don't have to look behind me to know that Corey's making faces and being a complete ass because Michelle's giggling like he's the funniest thing ever.
He goes on, “Plant a big one—right smack on her lips and then—”
“Dude. Shut up. I told you—she's sick.”
Michelle coughs. And then coughs again. I realize she sounds really odd. Corey coughs too. Something's up. I turn, surprised to find Coach Williams standing at the counter next to my friends.
“Hullo, Coach,” Corey stutters, fidgeting with the napkin holder.
I meet Coach Williams' steely, accusing gaze with a small nod. “Can I make you something, Coach?” I ask, pasting on a tight smile, wishing I could punch Corey.
“Nash. Miss Hopkins. Good to see you both.” Coach Williams nods. “Mind if I have a word with Porter, alone?”
“Sure, Coach.” Corey shoots me a look as he grabs his nachos. He's all but running to a table with Michelle. Traitors.
“Is she really sick, or is it true you're having some sort of fight? “
“It's true that I've never tried to kiss her yet,” I offer.
“That's something.”
“I had an interesting phone call from Jess's father this week. After what Corey just said, I'm not sure what's going on. I thought maybe you could enlighten me before that man ambushes me again?”
My heart feels it was tossed in a blender. “No. What did he say? Did you out me? Did Jess tell him about our contract?” I ask, wondering if this is one of the reasons Jess won't text me back. “Would have been nice if you'd warned me.”
“The guy called me, and he has no idea about the contract. In fact, the guy sounds happier and more hopeful than I've heard him since…since…you know.” He looks away.
“Still afraid? I'll say it for you. Almost raped. Since his daughter was almost raped by your star player.”
Coach clears his throat and leans over the counter so only I can see his face. “Jess's dad told me you were going to their house for a BBQ day after tomorrow. Only there seems to be a bit of confusion on the invite. He told me Jess is bringing a kid named Corey Nash to the party He asked me what I thought about him.” Coach flips a glance at Corey and Michelle who are currently holding hands and pretending, very badly, not to watch us.
“Shit. I'd forgotten about that barbecue. What did you say to that?” I hold my breath and try not to blink.
“I told him Corey is a great kid. A bit goofy, but nice enough. Thankfully, that's all the man asked. Had his questions gone any deeper, I don't know if I could've lied to him. You attending a BBQ at the Jordan house this Sunday, or is that dumb-ass standing in for you?” He shoots Corey a doubtful glance.
“Jess and I already have a plan in place. No one is going…thanks to some future food poisoning. At least, I think that's the plan.”
“Jesus, Porter. Maybe I'll call her dad back and tell him what I know.”
“Don't. Please.” I run a hand through my hair. “I need to handle this carefully. I've fallen for her. Seriously.”
“Why are you telling me this? It only makes me want to kick your ass from here to Kansas.”
“I don't know. I guess I'm asking for your blessing, or help. I want to tell her the truth. About me, about that night. And I'm scared to death I'm going to mess it all up. Mess her all up. You know?”
“Are you out of your mind!” Coach Williams roars, causing everyone in the room to stare. He lowers his voice and leans in. His fists clench on the snack counter and his eyes are spitting fire. “Hell yes you could mess her up! You could put the girl over the edge. You have no idea what you're doing. She's going to need a therapist standing by or something more serious than some misguided, love sick Boy Scout opening a can of worms all over her head.”
I don't even flinch. “I've already witnessed her flipping out after a nightmare. It can't be worse than what I saw her go through the other night. I've never known anyone as strong or as brave as Jess. Don't you think she should know the truth?”
“I can't let you do it. Why do you think you have the right?”
“Because I have everything to lose if it goes badly! I'm the one who's in love with her. Because I was in love with her freshman year when it all went down. If the truth about me trickles down into her head from the mouths of her over-protective parents, or even from you, I'm sure it will be twisted forever. You'll ruin all the good stuff between us. And believe me, it's there. It's fragile as hell, but it's completely real. She hasn't said anything, but I think she feels the same.”
“I don't know, son.”
“Please. Either way, when she finds out she's going to flip out some, right?”
“Probably.” He swallows.
“Wouldn't you want her to flip in my arms where I can catch her? If she has to go through finding out what happened that night alone, it will hurt her even more. I'll do everything in my power to not let her fall. If she does, then I'm going with her. All the way.”
Coach sighs. “When are you planning to tell her? And where?”
“Tomorrow. We have a lunch date.”
He grabs a pen and scrawls two phone numbers onto a napkin and shoves it at me. “You call me and her Dad if anything goes wrong. And, would you please call me when everything goes right so I don't have to worry? I'll be pulling for you…and I'll add in a prayer or two. Or three. Deal?” Coach Williams starts away.
“Coach?” He turns back. His brow has furrowed, giving his face the look of a crumpled piece of sandpaper. He nods once for me to continue, as though he can't talk. As though the guy is choked up and about to cry!
“Thanks,” I say. My heart is slamming into my chest with relief and with something that feels like respect. “Just, thanks.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jess
I can hardly wait to have lunch with Gray this afternoon. I'm starving…but more for him than for the sandwiches he's promised. I hadn't seen his car in the parking lot when I'd pulled up this morning. I figure that's because he's trying to give me the space I'd requested.
I feel half excited and half scared that we're going to have this talk. I'm even hopeful that he might be right. That we can be friends after this is all over. Despite my secret crush on him, of course. But he doesn't need to know about that. Even when—if—we do become real friends.
I've dashed to the bathroom after my shift to apply some make-up so I won't look pasty when he shows up. Now, like a vain weirdo I can't stop myself from trying to decide if I should wear my hair up, or down, or back for the rest of the day.
For him.
My h
eart flutters because I've imagined his face. I watch in the mirror as red heats my cheeks. He'd been so happy that I'd agreed to talk to him. I frown at my reflection and undo the tenth ponytail. I shake it all out and settle on wearing my hair down with a small clip holding back the front layers. In case I'm tempted to primp even more, I run out, making it into our tiny office at exactly 12:00PM.
Then like a dork, I sit there, staring at the back of Gray's computer monitor, and drawing in a little breath of excitement each time I hear a footstep in the hallway.
After an entire half hour has passed and still no sign of Gray, I break my own rules and text him: YGTS—OW? I wait sixty seconds and try again: That means: You Going To Show — Or What? Where RU?
My tummy's rumbling. Sitting in this office chair is getting dangerous. To stay awake, I head on to Google and randomly type: Where in the HELL is Gray Porter?
I slam the return key, enjoying the satisfying ‘click’ the keyboard makes. While the results load, I grab my iPhone and check the battery. It's green. Gray simply isn't responding. I figure he's giving me a dose of my own medicine for ignoring his texts all week.
I know I deserve it. But heck, the land of ‘No Text Back’ is truly a cruel and lonely place. Turning back to my monitor, I'm surprised by the search results.
There are tons of pages featuring Gray Porters!
One appears to be a back issue of our high school's news journal. It's actually got the title: Where is Gray Porter? Weird. And WTF!
I click the link and stare at the photo in the article. The kid in the shot is so scrawny and hidden in gear that it could have been anyone. But, because of the pictures I'd seen at Gran's house, I know it has to be Gray. The puny, freshman him, anyhow. The text under the photo reads: Star red line winger, Gray Porter, chooses club inline over varsity ice leaving our team in the lurch.
Before I can delve into the article, someone enters the room.
“Finally,” I say, popping my head out from behind the monitor. It's not him. It's Michelle? “What are you doing here?”