Our Tuesdays and Thursdays were becoming a regular thing, for at least an hour after practice every time. The guys would say hi to me in the halls at school, and Sienna and Sarah were delighted to flirt with a few upper classmen. A few times, they even joined me at Reed’s house, sitting around the table and, while I never did, they also drank a few of the Reed family beers as well. Sarah was a joiner, and she had been to a few high school parties in junior high where she had gotten buzzed on shots with her older sister. Sienna was a bit more cautious, so she nursed her beer, participating, but not really experiencing.
As the project afternoons progressed, I realized I was pretty much handling the entire thing on my own. But while I usually resented it and did it anyway, this seemed different. I didn’t feel taken advantage of, and I liked that the project gave me something to distract myself with when Reed and I were alone, before his friends showed up.
We were fast on our way to becoming friends. I was finally ready to admit to myself that I had a bit of a puppy crush on him for sure, but that I wasn’t really interested in anything beyond that. I liked how he made me feel—like I was a part of something, socially accepted, almost cool. I fantasized about our high school years, me catching rides with him, waving at him while he was on the field for a game. One day, after I’ve finally met his dad, he’d know me, too. I would pop over to visit and he’d welcome me in, ask me to stay for dinner. Yes, Reed and I could become great friends. And that would be enough.
“Oh. My. God. Your house is so huuuuuuuge!” I heard a squeal come from the front door. That’s when I was thrown back into reality.
Tatum was here. In this house. With me and my new group of friends. She showed up with Cole and Devin and threw her purse on the table next to our nearly done project, not even casting a look in my direction. Her heavy and clunky keys slid out the top of her purse, knocking over several toothpick structures I had set aside to dry from gluing. Thoughtless and selfish, was all I could think as I pushed her crap from the table to a nearby chair and reassembled the toothpicks.
“Reeeeeeeeeed,” she giggled, in a little-girl voice that I thought wasn’t fooling anyone. The fakeness oozed from her, and it was utterly transparent—far from attractive. But just then, she threw her arms around Reed and nuzzled her nose into the corner of his neck. She was two years older than him, and she could have any guy in our school. But she wanted to lay claim to Reed. And I was furious.
At first, I thought maybe Reed would be as annoyed by her childish voice and overt flirtation as I was, but he seemed to be eating it up, picking her up and twirling her around in the kitchen, touching her legs with his feet on the couch in the living room and admiring “how cute she was” when she stole his hat from his head and put it on her perfectly tussled head of hair.
For the first time in weeks, the guys didn’t sit around the table with me. I continued to work, listening to the conversations in the living room. Tatum giggling at their sports conversations, and asking them what they thought of her hair: Should she cut it? Does it look better up? Should she wear more hats? She had a loose over-shirt on and I watched as she strategically removed it in front of Reed, her back to him as he sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. She looked over her shoulder, asking him if he could tuck the tag in on the tight tank she was now revealing.
“Yeah, I got it,” he said, a bit taken with her. I could tell he was feeding off of her. Who wouldn’t. She was 17 going on 26 and was built like a Hooters waitress. I thought of myself trying to pull off that same move…I would look idiotic, I disappointed.
For two hours, the giggling continued. At one point, she had jumped up on his lap and had wrapped her arms around his neck. He was stroking up and down her back with his hand, his thumb flicking the straps of her tank top. He had a smirk on his face and she knew she had him. While I was only a room away, I was an entire world apart.
My phone made me jump, and I knocked over the stack of note cards I had been making about our various model pieces. I told my dad I would meet him outside when he came, fearful that I might start crying at any moment. I bent down to gather the note cards and my eyes started to sting. I saw the bottom of Reed’s tattered jeans on the other underside of the table. I begged myself to stop the tears and wished with all my might that he would just leave it at a “see ya next time” or “goodbye.”
“Was that your dad?” he asked.
“Yeah, he’s on his way. I’m just packing up and then I’ll be out of your hair,” I said, a bit snarky. I hated myself for letting it get the best of me, and then also dreaded the direction I knew this would go, and the fact that I was taking it there.
“What the hell does that mean, Noles? Something wrong?” Reed said, squatting down to help me with my note cards. Just then, I heard Tatum calling from the living room, “Reeeeeeeeeeeeed, come back here, I’m cold.”
He smiled a little, turning his head sideways, almost as if he was imagining just what he could do to warm her up.
I snapped. “You know, if I was going to do this entire thing by myself, I could have just done it at home, saved us both a lot of hassle. It’s not like I need your table to hold up the card board,” I shot the words at him, though they were merely a mask for what was eating at my insides.
“Noles, I totally didn’t mean to leave you with all of this. I just figured you liked doing this part and you were so good at it. We always have fun, and laugh, and I can totally jump in whenever you need me to. You just never seem to want me to. … I’m sorry, dude,” he rattled that last part off, just as Tatum let out another cackle of a laugh. And that finally broke me.
“Dude? … Dude?” I stood as he did, getting close enough to him so I could say this last part with enough force but just out of earshot of what was in the next room. “I’m not a dude, Reed, like Cole or Devin. At least …” I looked around as I stepped closer to whisper in his ear. “I haven’t had a sex change,” I gritted through my teeth. Then, picking up his wrist, I formed his hand into a fist and pounded mine against it, looking straight into his eyes the entire time, unflinching. “Booooom!” I said plainly, with as little emotion as possible, pursing my lips. Staring into his eyes for a few more uncomfortable seconds, I saw realization wash over his face. I had heard the entire thing—and I had heard him.
I grabbed my bag from the nearby chair, headed straight to the door and left, never turning back. I walked down the driveway as my dad was pulling up, willing myself to hold it all in until I could lock myself in my room. Reed knew exactly what I meant. He got it all, and I knew it. And as proud as I was of myself, I also silently scolded myself for being surprised that he would cuddle with Tatum in his house while I was busying myself with clay and glue … like a child.
I let the tears fall as soon as I pushed my face into my bed, and I cried until finally falling asleep well after midnight.
4. Words
I wouldn’t call it moping, but I walked to my homeroom that morning with a certain sense of hopelessness. I was exhausted from the previous night’s cry fest, and dreading my science class with Reed. As Sienna and Sarah bounded into the classroom, full smiles, I sank further into my seat. We had planned on going to the football game tonight, but that was before I made an ass out of myself in front of our cool new group of friends and lambasted the boy who had repeatedly broken my heart in a matter of weeks. I had to try to get out of this, and so as soon as they sat down next to me I put on a coughing act and said I wasn’t feeling very well.
“Like hell,” Sarah started. “Girl, you better suck it up and start taking some vitamin C, cuz there’s no way we’re missing that game tonight. Cole invited us to the desert party after, and we are going, because he is way hot, and I want him.”
“I don’t know,” I started, but was quickly cut off.
“You’ll feel fine as soon as we start having fun. If not, my sister will totally drop you off at home on our way to the party, ok?” Sarah said. There really is no reasoning with her when her mind’s
made up.
“OK,” I shrugged, slumping down even more in my chair.
Sienna just looked at me with a soft smile. I think she sensed that there was something more to it, but she was also sweet enough to know when I didn’t want to talk. She just squeezed my wrist and whispered, “we’ll have fun!”
My morning classes flew by and I was on my way to science, walking alone. I spent extra time at my locker to avoid the chance that I might have to walk in with Reed. I scanned the quad on my way to the room terrified that I would still run into him. When I entered the classroom, I snapped my focus right to his seat. I wanted to see him first—before he locked eyes on me. For some reason, I thought that might help me prepare myself and square up my irrational emotions. But his seat was still empty.
I walked over, lopped my backpack over the chair and pulled out my notebook and a pencil. Intently counting the second-hand clicks on the clock, I started to fill with concern that Reed wasn’t here. He was skipping school, either because of the dressing down I had given him or because he was off making out with a 17-year-old hoochie. Caught up in the drama in my head, I didn’t notice when he slipped in at the last second and slid into his seat next to me.
I could feel the blood rushing to my head. In fact, I could hear it passing over my eardrums in waves, making it almost impossible to hear our teacher. I refused to pull my gaze up from my notebook. I didn’t want to see if he was frowning. I didn’t want to see if he was furious or sad. I just wanted to shrink down to microscopic size and scamper off unnoticed. The only part of Reed I could see was his feet. They were bouncing up and down, propped on his toes. He was clearly just as affected sitting next to me, but I was pretty sure that he was just counting the seconds that he could be free from me. He smacked his notebook on his desktop and pulled a pen out ready to take notes for the class.
I wrote down various bits of our lesson. Cell structures and mitochondria. It seemed pretty simple so I wasn’t too alarmed at my own lack of attention. Reed, however, seemed to be writing down everything our teacher said, word for word. His pen was busy and he kept stopping and scribbling every few seconds. He slowed down some near the end of class and started drumming his pen on his leg to match the tempo of his bouncing. I expected that when we heard the bell he would be off with a sprint.
Finally, after 50 torturous minutes, the bell rang. I slid my notebook sideways on my desk into my backpack and zipped it up. I heard Reed ripping off a page from his notebook and standing up to leave. I thought I would just sit still for an extra minute or two to let him get a head start. I was starting to imagine the pattern of doing this for the next eight months of school and was wondering if I could handle the stress of it when I saw Reed slide a folded piece of paper over to me on top of a blue pocket folder.
Confused, I looked up at him, pursing my lips and crooking the corner of my mouth.
“Just take it and read it, OK?” he said shortly. And then he was walking away.
I flipped open the folder and saw my note cards tucked into one pocket with a rubber band around them. They had been highlighted and numbered. In the other pocket was a typed and stapled paper. The top sheet was titled “A Sustainable Society: By Nolan Lennox and Reed Johnson.” I pulled the paper from the folder and realized it was a full four pages, single spaced. I read the first few paragraphs and they were exactly as I would have written them, minus a few word choices.
Reed had finished our project. By himself. Last night.
I didn’t quite know what to make of this. I was equal parts offended that he hadn’t included me in our work and awed by his gesture. I was fairly confident that the note he had folded and placed on top of the folder he had given me would provide me with clarity. I started to unfold and read it where I sat, but the next class was already filing in. I was going to be late for PE. Also, as much as I wanted to know what he had written to me, I also was afraid. Was he angry? Is that why he had written so manically during our class? Wondering if I had just bided my time, waiting to yell at him and embarrass him in front of his friends. Did he finish the paper just to be rid of me? Or, maybe they were kind words? And at that thought, part of me wanted to savor it and read it just a few words at a time.
Walking slowly through the grass to the gym, I held the note close to my chest under the folder, my arms crossed over it. When I got to my gym locker, I tucked it inside my backpack and changed for PE. As I sat on the bench waiting for our class to begin, I stared at my locker, wanting to unlock the combination immediately, crawl into a bathroom stall and feign menstrual cramps. But I left it where it was.
We did aerobics for PE and practiced various stretches on the mats upstairs. I could hear the weight room on the other side of the gym and knew Reed was there. Most of the football players had weightlifting as their elective. I felt like I was holding onto a burning secret, but I only knew parts of it. My lack of awareness must have been apparent, too, because I was still laying flat on my back when the rest of the class was folding up mats and carrying them to the stack at the end of the room.
“Nolan, are you OK?” Sienna leaned over and asked. “Are you sick?”
“Huh? Oh, uh no. Sorry, just daydreaming I guess. Thanks for snapping me out of it!” I sat up and started folding my mat. My head still imagining the words that were waiting for me and listening for any hint of Reed’s voice just across the basketball court.
As I turned around after throwing my mat on top of a stack, I was stopped by Sienna, hands on her hips and a furrowed brow. “What’s up? I know you. I know you really well and have for years. You know you can tell me, right?” she said in her nurturing tone. Sienna was always the friend you could confide in and she often gave the best advice. While Sarah was one to back you up in a fight, Sienna was the one with her head on right. At her words, I let out a huge sigh and leaned back against the wall as we lined up to head back to the locker room.
“It’s Reed,” I said, not sure where else to go with it.
“Nolan, I know that much. I totally know that you like him… more than friends… and I think there’s a part of him that really likes you, too. Did something … happen?” she asked, almost with a look of hope in her eyes.
“Oh god, it’s sooooo not what you think,” I said, stopping her before she went too far. Then, part of what she said sank in and I flinched, squinting my eyes. “You really think he’s got a thing for me?”
“I don’t think. I know,” she said, matter-of-factly. I wasn’t sure she was right on this one, but I was flattered that she would even think that about me. I stood silently, trying to take what she had said in and sorting through the source of my stress for a good place to begin. I decided starting with Tatum’s flirtation was the genesis. Sienna winced when I recanted the scene from outside the gym after volleyball tryouts and hugged me when I told her what I said, inches away from Reed’s face. Finally, I got to the part about the note, and she shook me by my shoulders.
“You seriously have been holding onto his letter for, like, an hour not knowing what it says?” she was dumbfounded.
“Yeah… I was afraid I wouldn’t have enough time to read it, and I’m a little worried about what it says.”
Sienna’s eyes were wide and her mouth was tightly closed, almost like she was holding something in.
“Nolan, you have to go read that. Like… right now!”
She was right. Now was the perfect time. I had lunch after PE, and I could take all the time I needed and hide out if I needed to. Part of me wanted to just ask Sienna to read it for me, just like when I cover my eyes during scary movies and ask her to tell me when the gory scenes are over and catch me up on the major plot points. But this was personal from Reed to me, and I knew it was something I had to do all on my own.
As she slung her bag over her shoulder in the locker room, she looked back at me and said she’d save me a seat at lunch and tell Sarah I had to talk with the coach. Grateful, I smiled.
Finally alone, I straddled the bench, unzipped my
bag and pulled out the note. As I unfolded it, I was first amazed at the length and surprisingly nice penmanship. It was clear that he had written quickly and had a lot to say. Holding my breath, I began:
Nolan:
I don’t even know where to start, but I guess the best place would be with sorry. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please believe me that I am being sincere in asking for it. I am embarrassed ashamed of what you heard and want you to know that that’s not the guy I am. I don’t have any excuses other than sharing with you the only behavior I’ve ever known. My parents hate each other. My mom fills me with stories about my cheating father and my father talks about how greedy and superficial my mom is, not that she’s any different from any other wife he’s had or the many women he’s had affairs with. My brother was the most popular guy in school and I’m supposed to be just like him. Jason was is an asshole. I’ve grown up watching him put people down and have others lift him up for it. Deep down, I’ve always known it was sort of a douche bag way to be, but I guess I got caught up in it. Again, I don’t have any excuses, so I am sorry.
Second, let me just say for the record that you are very pretty. I actually remembered your knee-high socks that you were wearing that first day we met, and they were kinda cute. So, while it might not erase those hurtful things we said that day, I hope it’s at least a start.
I’m sure you’ve noticed that our paper is done. I never intended on having you do all the work. Just so you know, I’m not some stupid jock. I’m actually pretty smart and school has always been easy for me. I’m sure you’ll still read the paper word for word to make sure it’s of ‘Nolan quality,’ but I can assure you that it’s an A. I will bring the model in on Monday so we can turn them in together for our grade.
Waiting on the Sidelines Page 4