Last Year's Mistake

by Gina Ciocca

  “Hey, don’t apologize. He said it himself; you’re not his babysitter.”

  “But it’s getting to the point where he needs one. We’re too far away to come running every time he screws up.”

  “Where are you from, by the way?” I started toward Uncle Tommy’s back door, David walking at my side.

  “Originally Portman Falls, Connecticut,” he said.

  “Oh, not far from us. We live in Norwood.”

  David stopped in his tracks. “No way. My dad and I are in the middle of moving to Norwood.”

  “Shut up!” I stopped too, and gaped at him.

  “I swear. Your uncle helped us find the house.”

  “That makes sense,” I said. “It is what real estate agents do. What street are you moving to?”

  “Meadowbrook?” He said it like he couldn’t quite remember, but I knew exactly which street he was talking about.

  “That’s right around the corner from us! The house next to the big empty field, right? Kind of purplish?”

  David grinned. “You mean purplish, scary-ish, and dilapidated-ish? That’s the one. But we’re gonna fix it up—it won’t be an eyesore for long.”

  I tilted my head and gave him a quizzical look. “You really need to stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault. Our place doesn’t exactly look like the White House either. None of the houses in our neighborhood do.”

  It wasn’t that Norwood was known for being poor on the whole. But the deeper into it you got, the more obvious it became that someone had forgotten to post a NO BOTTOM-FEEDERS ALLOWED sign. Beautiful houses on generous plots of land eventually gave way to narrowing, woodsy roads; shrinking, unkempt properties; and houses that could fit inside the master suites of the ones you’d driven past five minutes ago.

  That was the part we lived in.

  “Anyhow, I’m going to Norwood High,” David said. “Are you? Or will you be at one of the private schools?”

  “Ha! Private school.” Maybe if I really wanted to feel like a bottom-feeder. I shook my head. “Norwood Public High is good enough for me. If you want, I’ll introduce you to my friends.”

  A genuine grin lit his face. “Cool.”

  “Kelsey, hurry up!” Miranda called from inside the house.

  I wrapped my fingers around the door handle, then paused. “I should warn you—I usually win.”

  “Then I should warn you that you need to kiss your winning streak good-bye, because this is the end.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  We headed into the house side by side. David was wrong, of course. It was only the beginning.

  Three

  Rhode Island

  Senior Year

  “Kelsey! Kelseeeeeeeey!”

  Crap.

  Miranda hurried through the outdoor lunch area as fast as she could on her skinny legs. Her enormous book bag slapped against her back as she ran, and honey-colored wisps that had escaped her forever-disheveled ponytail fluttered in the breeze. Her hair was the exact color mine used to be, before I kicked it up a notch with some platinum-blond highlights. Though I had never allowed mine to look like a tornado had taken up residence on my head.

  Miranda came to a halt in front of our lunch table, wide eyed and breathless. “Did you see who’s here?”

  Ryan tensed next to me. He hadn’t exactly appreciated my earlier reaction to the “who” in question. Candy coughed and focused on stabbing a cherry tomato.

  “I saw him,” I said, taking a bite of my pretzel in an attempt at nonchalance. And failing, because I nearly choked on it. “Shouldn’t you be inside with the other freshmen? The picnic tables are only for seniors.”

  Miranda ignored my attempt to get rid of her, plowing ahead with barely a pause for air. “Can you believe he’s living here in Rhode Island? In his grandfather’s house? Or that his grandfather died? I mean, that part I can believe because he was always drunk, but holy crud, Kelse, we were just talking about him in the car this morning!”

  Ryan’s head snapped up. “Wait. That’s who you were talking about?” His leg began to bounce beneath the table, and he readjusted his cap for the umpteenth time.

  Nice, Miranda. It had taken me the entire morning to lower Ryan’s level of suspicion from red to orange, and she’d sent it flying off the charts again.

  “Anyone wanna tell me who we’re talking about?” Matt Crowley, Ryan’s baseball buddy, called out from the other end of the table.

  “Kelsey knows the new kid.” Ryan jerked his head in my direction and then ripped a bite from his sandwich in a way that made me feel bad for it.

  “Ooooh, Kelse. An old flame?” If the tone of Matt’s voice hadn’t made me want to punch him, the smirk on his face would’ve.

  “No.” I crumpled my bag of pretzels. “An old friend. Ex-friend.”

  “I know exactly who you’re talking about!” Violet ­Kensing squealed before I could reiterate that he was a friend I didn’t speak to anymore. “He’s in my homeroom! Oh my God, Kelsey, he is so hot! Can you introduce me?” She tossed her hair like she expected him to materialize at the mere mention of his existence. Candy rammed an elbow into her ribs, and Violet promptly shot back a death glare.

  “How well do you know this kid?” Ryan asked, his eyes narrowed.

  Miranda snorted. That sound, that death knell, made me turn back to her so fast, I thought my neck might snap. The panic on her face didn’t stop my own from welling up inside me. She and my mother were the only ones who knew what had happened between David and me, and I’d made her promise never to tell. I’d always thought Miranda could keep her mouth shut when it counted most, and watching her stare at her feet and bite her lip, I knew she’d thought the same thing. Both of us must’ve had our heads lodged firmly up our rear ends when we’d come to that conclusion.

  Heat prickled the back of my neck. I glared at Miranda even though she wouldn’t look back at me, silently threatening her life if she dared to take the things I’d told her while drowning in uncertainty and awash in my own tears and let them slip like a greasy bowling ball. “He was a friend,” I repeated through gritted teeth.

  Ryan tore another bite from his sandwich and threw it down without looking at me. The whole table shook from his leg bouncing beneath it, and he mumbled Sure. A loaded silence settled over the group, and my friends appeared extra fascinated by their lunches.

  “Bye, Kelse.” Miranda turned on her heel and hightailed it out of there. She’d sold me out, even without saying a word, and she knew it. Thanks, little sister.

  “Ryan, I—” A quick glance down the length of the table reminded me that I didn’t want to have this conversation there. Even with every set of eyes trained downward, I knew all their ears were primed and ready. I tugged at his shirt. “Come for a walk with me. Please?”

  Ryan’s jaw tensed. He balled up his sandwich wrapper and threw it into his lunch bag. But he took my hand and rose from the bench, and I knew he’d at least hear me out.

  I could only imagine the conversation that exploded the moment we were gone.

  I pulled him by the hand through the main doors, and then into the deserted hallway that led to the chorus room. The moment the doors closed behind us, Ryan let go of my hand, leaned against the wall, and folded his arms across his chest.

  “I’m listening.” He stared down the hall, refusing to meet my eyes.

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “I’m not an idiot, Kelse. You’ve been lying to me all morning, haven’t you? Something happened with you and this kid.”

  I twisted my hands. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

  “I knew it!” He pulled his hat tighter to his head and paced back and forth like a caged animal. “I knew there had to be more to it. No girl reacts like that to a friend. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Ryan, I didn’t ev
en know you when—” I bit the inside of my cheeks and looked at the floor.

  He stopped pacing and jammed his fists in his pockets. “When what? When you were with him?”

  I stepped closer to him and put my hands on his upper arms. “Ryan.”

  He backed away from me and against the wall, his shoulders hunched as he frowned at the floor. “I can’t believe you lied to me.”

  I let out a sigh of resignation. Normally I would’ve given him hell for throwing such a ridiculous temper tantrum, but I needed our fight to be over more than I needed to be right. The sooner I could rebury all this, the better.

  Pressing myself against the length of his unyielding body, I sandwiched him between me and the wall. “Why are you being like this?” I grazed my nose against his cheek. “I was never with him—not like that. He . . . he liked me, but I freaked out when he told me. We haven’t talked since.”

  True enough.

  Ryan searched my face. “Because you didn’t like him back?”

  Heat crawled up my neck and spread to my cheeks. I eased back a little, praying he couldn’t feel the suddenly erratic beats of my heart. “Because it never would have worked. He and I, we were good friends. And then we were nothing at all.”

  “Then why did you hug him like that?” Ryan’s hands settled tentatively on my hips, and I knew the worst was over.

  “It caught me off guard, that’s all. I haven’t seen him since I moved here. Knee-jerk reaction, I guess. But you saw how awkward it got after that.”

  Ryan smirked, undoubtedly recalling the red-faced detangling of limbs and general uneasiness as he and Candy joined our little private party. To call it “uncomfortable” would be like calling a sumo wrestler “sort of chubby.”

  “You really didn’t know what hit you, huh?”

  You mean it wasn’t a frigging Mack truck?

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and managed a tiny smile back. “No. Like I said, it caught me off guard. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Ryan’s hands roamed up my back and he moved his lips closer to mine. “I didn’t like seeing you in some other guy’s arms,” he murmured.

  Our lips brushed together. “I’m in yours now.”

  “And you won’t keep things from me anymore?”

  I kissed him, knowing he’d take it as a yes. Or a no, however you wanted to look at it. Right as the kiss became entirely inappropriate for school, the metallic sound of the double doors opening made us jump apart.

  David stood in the hall, one hand curled around the shoulder strap of his bag, and the other clutching a piece of paper. And just as it had earlier that morning, my gut folded in on itself like an accordion.

  “Um, sorry,” David said. “I still don’t know where I’m going.” He held up what I assumed to be his schedule. “Think I took a wrong turn.”

  He made a move to retreat but stopped when I started toward him. “It’s okay. We were . . . talking. Where are you headed?”

  The bell signaling the end of lunch sounded. David glanced at the paper. “Chemistry? Room A one-oh-one.”

  “Oh. You were close. If you go back into the main hallway—”

  “I’m headed that way.” Ryan sidled up behind me and rested a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll walk with you.”

  My head snapped toward him. “I—um. You will?” My palms grew sweaty at the suggestion. Two seconds ago he’d wanted to rip David’s head off, and now he wanted to walk him to class?

  “Yeah.” Ryan draped his arm around me as he moved to stand at my side. “Like I said, I’m going that way anyway.” He kept his eyes on David as he answered, and I could’ve sworn frost formed in the space between them.

  David stared right back, his posture rigid. The corner of his mouth twitched. Whether it was the beginning of a smirk or a frown, I couldn’t tell. “That’d be great,” he said, a hint of sarcasm edging his words as he eyed Ryan’s cap. “We can talk baseball.”

  If I’d looked down at that moment and seen my stomach land on the floor with a huge splat, it wouldn’t have surprised me in the least. “You’re joining the baseball team?” I croaked.

  What a stupid question. He was obsessed with baseball, and he’d played at Norwood. Clayton would be lucky to have another pitcher as good as Ryan.

  Not that Ryan would appreciate it. Oh, God.

  Ryan strode toward David, almost like he’d forgotten I was there. “Sure.” He looked back at me when I grabbed his wrist, trying my hardest to make him read my mind. What the hell are you doing?

  Half of Ryan’s mouth crooked up into a grin. “Don’t worry.” He bent and smacked a quick kiss on my lips. Under his breath he added, “I’ll be nice.”

  The image of the two of them walking away together made my brain go haywire. I never imagined I’d see David again, period, let alone see him strolling down the halls of Clayton High, side by side with my boyfriend. It seemed inherently wrong, like the world should implode at any second from the sheer wrongness of it.

  There was no implosion, though. Just the terrifying realization that my two worlds had finally collided.

  Four

  Rhode Island

  Summer before Freshman Year

  “It’s Shake It Till You Make It tiiiiiime!” Dad bellowed as he burst into the living room.

  “Yes!” Miranda pumped her fist, promptly abandoning her video game remote on the couch cushion and running over to him. “I’m getting the Chocolate Disaster!”

  From the kitchen, my mother groaned. “Kevin, why do you insist on doing that challenge every year? Then I have to listen to you moan about how sick you feel for the rest of the night.”

  “Tradition, Amanda!” Uncle Tommy called as he galloped down the stairs. “Victory will once again be mine!”

  Three summers ago, Dad had decided on a whim—more like a mutual dare—that he and Uncle Tommy should go up against each other in the Shake It Till You Make It challenge at the Bellevue Ice Cream Shoppe. Store rules dictated that anyone who could drink three of their thick, ginormous shakes got a fourth on the house, but my father had upped the stakes by deciding the loser would get dinner and dish duty the following night. Three years out of three, Dad wound up flipping post-challenge burgers—in Aunt Tess’s pink-flowered apron. That part was Uncle Tommy’s stipulation.

  “Come on, girls.” Dad clapped his hands, my cue to turn off the TV. “Hope you’re hungry.”

  As we headed down the driveway like a little caravan—we always walked to preempt some of the sugar—David’s father emerged from the house next door, holding a big cardboard box.

  “Hey, Jimmy!” Uncle Tommy called. “You guys wanna join us for some ice cream?”

  “Thanks, Tom.” Mr. Kerrigan hoisted the box onto the trunk of his car and fished his keys out of his pocket. “But I have to get this junk to Goodwill before my father changes his mind again. I’ll bet David might like to go, though.” He nodded at Miranda and me. “Why don’t you girls run in and get him?”

  Miranda needed no further coaxing. She took off on her bony legs, leaving me to catch up at the Kerrigans’ back door. The TV was so loud that I wondered if David would even hear her musical little knocks, but a moment later he appeared. When we told him where we were going and asked him to come along, he didn’t hesitate to accept.

  David retreated to the living room, where his grand­father grunted in response to his statement that he was going out with the neighbors. A second later he reappeared, and I stepped aside to let him through the screen door. Before he could shut it behind him, his eyes dropped to my leg and his face filled with horror.

  “Oh, shit!” He clapped his hand over his mouth and apologized for cursing, probably more for Miranda’s benefit than mine, before motioning to the huge purple and blue bruise on my thigh. “Did I do that? The other day, when I hit you with—”

  I shook m
y head and tugged my shorts lower before he could finish the thought. “No, no, that was already there. Tripped over something. I bruise easily. It looks worse than it is.”

  “Besides, that’s not where you hit—,” Miranda started, but I led her toward the steps by the crook of the arm.

  “Come on, everybody’s waiting.”

  Once we got to the ice-cream shop, Dad and Uncle Tommy’s competition drew a little crowd. Probably because we weren’t exactly inconspicuous, pounding our fists on the table, chanting, “Chug, chug, chug!” Among the onlookers were three girls eating cones, looking like they’d just come from the beach, bikini straps tied around their necks visible beneath tank tops and sundresses. My socks, sneakers, and T-shirt made me look like a tomboy in comparison. But after seeing David’s reaction to the bruise on my thigh, I was glad I’d worn something that covered the ones on my arm and foot—the ones he had given me.

  The girls stood behind Mom, and she wasted no time swiveling around to chat them up. The woman would talk to walls if she thought there was any chance they’d talk back. We were similar in a lot of ways, but that wasn’t one of them. A fact she refused to accept. Which was why I slouched in my seat the moment I heard her say, “Oh, you’re the same age as my daughter!” She turned to me with excited, expectant eyes, like she wanted me to burst off my chair and hug them for sharing my birth year. “Kelsey, this is Marisol. Her name means ‘sea and sun’ in Spanish. Isn’t that pretty?”

  I nodded and tried to form my mouth into some semblance of a smile. I hated when she did this. She was forever dragging me into conversations like a reluctant dog on a leash, lecturing me to socialize as if the fact that I preferred keeping to myself was a defect in me she was determined to fix.

  “Marisol,” Mom said, “do you go to school here?”

  “Yep.” Marisol wiped a stray drip of mint chocolate chip from her chin. “But I’m actually going to Costa Rica to study abroad next semester.”