by Amy Clipston
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She pointed down the hallway. “There’s some Pepto in my medicine chest. Just help yourself.” She looked at my dad. “Are you coming to church?”
He turned to me. “Do you need me to stay home?” “Don’t be silly.” I waved toward the door. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”
He crossed to the bed and kissed my forehead. “I hope you feel better.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, overwhelmed by the gesture.
“You take care, dear,” Darlene said. “Call us if you need anything.” She turned toward the hallway. “Logan! Let’s go! The car is leaving.”
“See you later,” my dad said. “Take it easy.” He disappeared through the doorway, closing the door softly behind him.
The rumble of an engine drew my attention to the window. I sank onto the window seat just as the Camaro backed out of the driveway next door. I watched as my family left, Whitney and her parents in her mother’s SUV and my dad and Logan in the Suburban. I crawled back in bed, yanked my book bag up next to me, and spent the morning finishing up homework.
While I worked, my phone chimed and rang, receiving three text messages from Chelsea asking me how the party was. I ignored the texts, deciding I would fill Chelsea in at school tomorrow. It would be easier to explain it in person.
Around lunchtime, I heard the back door slam followed by the echoing of footsteps and voices entering the kitchen.
Footsteps continued up the stairs, and I sat up straighter in bed, hoping that the sound would continue down the hallway. A light knock on the door destroyed my hopes.
“Come in,” I said, finger combing my mess of curls.
Whitney appeared in the doorway. “Hey. Can I come in?”
“Sure.” I motioned for her to sit on the bed.
She closed the door behind her and sat on the window seat across from me. “How are you feeling?”
I shrugged. “Okay, thanks. My stomach’s a little better.”
“I’m glad.” She crossed her legs. “I guess last night was bad for all of us, huh?”
“Why do you say that?” I asked, not wanting to admit I heard part of her conversation with Chad.
She shook her head and glowered. “Chad and I broke up last night.”
“Oh no.” I frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”
She sniffed. “He said he has to concentrate on school or he won’t get into college,” she said.
Confused, I raised an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with you?”
“I’m a distraction.” She threw her hands up. “Is that the flimsiest excuse you’ve ever heard? How can his bad grades be my fault?”
I nodded in agreement. “That’s pretty lame.”
“You want to know the kicker?” she asked, her eyes shining with fury.
“What?” I sat on the edge of the bed across from her.
“I saw him talking with Monica Barnes at the party, and they were getting pretty cozy.” She blew out a frustrated sigh. “I feel so used.”
I shook my head. “I know the feeling all too well.”
“You do?” She looked intrigued.
“Yeah.” I ran my hand over my bedspread. “When Tyler broke up with me, he said he wasn’t attracted to me.” She gasped. “He didn’t!”
“Oh yeah, he did.” I scowled. “He said I was a cool girl, but he just wasn’t attracted to me that way.”
“No!” Whitney looked shocked. “He’s an idiot. You’re a gorgeous girl.” She touched my arm. “Don’t let that bring you down. Guys are stupid.”
Surprised by Whitney’s support, I laughed. “Thanks. And for the record, Chad’s stupid too.”
She smiled. “Thanks.” She paused for a moment, and her smiled faded. “Zander wasn’t at church today.”
“Oh?” Frowning, I twirled a curl around my finger.
“Did you guys have a fight?” she asked. “I didn’t see you leave the party, and Tiffany told me that you left in a hurry.”
“My stomach hurt,” I said quickly, not wanting to add fuel to any gossip spreading about Zander and me.
She paused. “You know, I think it’s great that you and Zander are together.”
“We’re just friends.” At least we were friends until last night.
“Oh, please.” She waved the comment off with a laugh. “You guys are such a cute couple. He’s crazy about you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s obvious, Emily, by the way he looks at you.” She glanced out the window, and I wondered if she saw him out there. “I can just tell. He’s a nice guy.”
I wanted to believe her, but still couldn’t stop thinking that he was using me as his witnessing tool. Although I’d believed he cared for me, I couldn’t get past his comments from last night about how I don’t let God speak to me. He’d had no right to talk to me that way.
“J2A was fun today,” Whitney said. “We started watching a movie, and we’re going to discuss the parallels to Jesus’ life.”
“Cool,” I said.
“Jenna asked about you,” she said. “She said if you need anything, you can call her to chat.”
“Thanks.” Again, I felt overwhelmed by the compassion, and for a split second I wondered if Zander had been right, that I don’t let people in.
Whitney stood. “Why don’t you get dressed and come to the mall with Kristin and me? I need to do some serious shopping to get out of this funk Chad put me in.”
“No, thanks.” I pointed toward my bag. “I have a project due in History on Thursday.” That was true, but I didn’t mention that I had finished it earlier today.
“Are you sure? We’d love for you to come. You never join us when we go out.” Whitney looked disappointed.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass this time. Have fun.”
She headed for the door. “Do you need anything?”
“No, thanks.” I stood and stretched. “I think I may get dressed and clean the bathroom. It’s my turn, right?”
She waved it off. “Forget the bathroom and come shopping. The bathroom can wait.”
“No, I’m good,” I said. “Have fun.”
“See you later.” She disappeared through the door, and I sighed. I knew she was trying to reach out to me. She’d definitely changed since the funeral.
Without thinking, I jumped up and hurried to the doorway. Glancing down the hall, I saw her stepping into her room. “Hey,” I called.
She spun. “Yeah?”
“When are you leaving?” I asked.
“In about ten minutes. Why?” She looked hopeful.
“I’ll come,” I said. “I just have to throw some clothes on and do something with my frizzy hair.”
“Awesome,” she said with a grin. “Your hair looks fine. Just put on some shorts.”
chapter sixteen
I sat down at the lunch table on Monday and unpacked my usual sandwich, bottle of water, and apple. I glanced toward the door and dreaded seeing Zander. I’d gotten up early and caught the bus in order to avoid riding with him or Whitney. While I’d actually had a good time shopping with Whitney and Kristin, I didn’t want to admit to Whitney that Zander and I weren’t speaking. I planned to take the bus home too.
I assumed Zander would corner me at lunch, but I didn’t want to face him. I knew I’d said awful things to him, and I didn’t know how to take them back. Besides, the accusations he’d thrown at me still stung, and I didn’t know if he would ever apologize to me.
“Well?” Chelsea sat across from me and frowned. “You still haven’t told me what happened.”
I gnawed my bottom lip while debating how to tell her the truth. I’d avoided the subject in English and gym, and I knew Chelsea deserved an answer, especially since I’d never called her back. “I just don’t want to go into it.”
“Just tell me. I’m your friend, remember?” Chelsea said.
I sucked in a deep breath and gathered my thoughts. Then I hit the issue head on. “Why didn�
�t you tell me that Zander had dated Whitney?” I asked.
Chelsea blinked, surprised. “I figured you knew. Besides, I didn’t think it really mattered.”
“I didn’t know, and it does matter. A lot,” I said. I started to tell her what I’d heard through the door at Kristin’s house and what it had made me wonder, but stopped when I spotted him crossing the cafeteria, frowning. “Here he comes.”
But instead of crossing to our table, he stood in the food line.
My shock must’ve registered on my face because Chelsea raised her eyebrows. “What?”
“He hasn’t even looked at me,” I said. “He got in the food line and didn’t glance over here.”
Chelsea grimaced. “That’s not good.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention that Whitney and Zander had dated. From what I heard, they didn’t date very long.” She moved a fry through the pool of ketchup on her plate.
“So their relationship wasn’t a big deal?” I asked, looking toward the food line. Zander was nowhere to be seen, and I assumed that meant he’d moved into the kitchen to choose his meal.
Chelsea shook her head. “Not really. I mean, everyone knew they were a couple, but no one called them the homecoming king and queen or anything.” She shook her chocolate milk. “I can’t believe Whitney and Chad broke up. Everyone figured they’d be together forever.”
“What do you think Monica meant when she said Zander and Whitney had been hot and heavy?” The question slipped from my lips before I could stop it.
“Monica’s a witch,” Chelsea quipped. “I wouldn’t put stock in anything she said. She told my eighth grade history class that I practiced kissing my teddy bear for when I finally got a date.”
“Yikes.” I winced. “I bet you were teased for months.”
“You have no idea.” She rolled her eyes and sipped her milk.
“Zander said they were really more like friends than boyfriend and girlfriend,” I continued.
“And you don’t believe him?” she asked, reading my thoughts.
“It’s more complicated than that.” I looked over just as Zander crossed the cafeteria with a tray full of food. He nodded at the folks at Whitney’s table and then kept walking out the door toward the courtyard. “Oh no,” I gasped.
“What?” Chelsea’s eyes widened.
“He bought his food and went outside to eat alone,” I said, cupping a hand to my forehead. “I guess that’s it. I lost him.”
“Don’t say that,” Chelsea said. “He really cares about you.”
I shook my head. “Too bad I never saw that. We had an awful argument after the party, and we both said some really nasty things to each other that we can’t take back. It’s over.”
Chelsea gave a sympathetic look. “You can always apologize, Em. It can’t possibly be that bad.”
I shook my head. “No, it was bad. I told him he was spoiled and had everything handed to him.”
She scowled. “Ouch.”
“Yeah,” I said, staring at my uneaten turkey sandwich. “He told me I was bitter, among other things.”
“Hey.” Chelsea touched my hand, and I looked up. “You can always say you’re sorry and you didn’t mean it. We all make mistakes. And I still say he really cares about you. He may even love you.”
I blinked, letting the words soak in. “Love me?”
“He gives you some pretty intense looks. Don’t give up on love.” She laughed. “Don’t I sound like an old, experienced woman? What do I know about dating? I’ve never been out on a date, unless you count running to the grocery store with my neighbor.” She chewed a fry. “Speaking of love, you need to give me advice sometime on how to get a guy’s attention. There’s this really hot senior on the stage crew. I don’t think he even knows my name. What should I do?”
“What do I know?” I asked. “I messed up what I had with Zander.”
“I told you,” she began with a huff, “you can fix that if you apologize.”
“Sorry. So, tell me about this hot senior,” I said, eager to change the subject. I bit into my sandwich.
We spent the rest of lunch discussing the senior she liked. She then filled me in on her weekend, telling me all about how she finished making matching pumpkin costumes for the twins. Her stories were background noise to the heartache that haunted me. I knew I’d messed up with Zander, but I didn’t know how anything I could say would ever fix it.
The rest of the week, I felt as if I were walking through a fog. Although I took the bus to and from school, I passed Zander in the hallway several times and saw him in the cafeteria, and received a halfhearted nod or wave from him.
Thursday night, I rode to and from youth group with Whitney, and Zander didn’t show up. She’d asked me what was going on, and I told her that we’d had an argument. She didn’t ask for any details, and I was thankful.
Each night, I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling while contemplating what to do. While I couldn’t take back the horrible words I’d said to him, I also couldn’t go on with the silence. It was eating me alive inside.
Friday afternoon, I padded up the driveway from the bus stop and climbed the steps to the deck. Glancing next door, I spotted the Jeep in the driveway with the garage door up, and my stomach flip-flopped.
Entering the kitchen, I found Darlene standing at the counter while studying a cookbook. She smiled at me. “How was your day?”
“Pretty good,” I said, dropping my backpack on the floor with a thump. I swiped an apple from the fruit bowl and bit into it. “How about yours?”
“Good,” she said. “I did the grocery shopping and had a meeting at church.” She turned toward the table, where a pile of books and a binder were spread out. “Would you do me a favor?”
“Sure.” I said, biting into the apple.
“Would you go retrieve Logan from next door? He ran out of here when he heard Zander’s Jeep pull up, and he needs to get back here and finish his homework.” She frowned. “He’s still grounded after getting a D on his math test. I let him go over there to say hi, but he knows he’s supposed to get his homework done and study.”
“Oh.” I bit into the apple, trying to ignore the sick feeling that overcame me at the thought of going to face Zander.
“I would really appreciate it, dear,” Darlene said while pulling some spices from the cabinet above her head.
“Okay.” I tossed the apple core into the trash can, wiped my hands on a paper towel, and headed for the deck.
My heart thumped in my chest as I approached the garage. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and then touched my headband to make sure it was still in place.
Standing at the open bay door, I found Logan sitting on a stool while Zander stood at the tool bench examining a carburetor that was in pieces before him.
“I told him that if he called me that again, I’d rearrange his face,” Logan was saying.
“The best thing you can do with a bully is ignore him,” Zander said. “That really makes them mad.”
“Yeah, but — “ Logan stopped speaking when he saw me. “Hey! It’s Emily!”
Zander glanced over at me, and my stomach twisted. When he gave me a halfhearted nod, my heart sank. “Hi,” he said.
I twirled my finger around a curl. “Hi.”
I cleared my throat, trying to think of something to say. “You’re having problems with a bully?” I asked Logan.
“Oh, it’s no big deal,” Logan said, waving it off. “I’m going to punch him out tomorrow.”
“I think that will earn you a trip to the principal’s office.” I leaned against the rear end of the car. “I have a feeling your mom and dad wouldn’t be too happy about that.”
“I told him to ignore the kid,” Zander said. “That will make the bully mad and keep Logan out of trouble.”
“That’s good advice.” I smiled at Zander, and he looked down at the carburetor. In an effort to break the ice, I stepped over to him. “Doing a rebuild?”
“Ye
ah.” He kept his eyes on the parts. “I figured I might as well since I have everything else rebuilt.” He grabbed his gloves.
“Can I help?” I offered.
“That’s okay,” he said, avoiding my stare. “I’m good.” He put safety glasses on and held the pieces over an oil pan while spraying them with carburetor cleaner.
Standing with my hands stuffed in my back pockets, I watched him, studying his handsome face and replaying our horrible fight. My heart was breaking in response to his silence. If we hadn’t fought, I would’ve been standing beside him, probably laughing and teasing him while we cleaned the parts together.
“How’ve you been?” I asked, grasping for anything to say.
“Okay,” Zander said, still not looking at me. “You?”
“What are you doing?” Logan asked, hopping down from the stool and stepping over to Zander.
Zander stopped spraying the parts. “I’m cleaning the parts with carb cleaner. Then I’m going to rebuild the carb, putting it back together with new gaskets.”
“Wow.” Logan rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “That sounds pretty hard.”
Zander shrugged. “Not really. It’s actually pretty easy.”
I glanced toward the rebuilt engine on the stand. “Looks like you’re pretty close to putting the engine back into the car.”
“Yup,” Zander said. “Pretty close.”
“If you let me know when you’re going to do it, my dad and I can help you,” I offered with a weak smile.
“Sure,” he said without facing me. “I’ll let you know if I need help.”
My heart sank. He knew as well as I did that he would need at least two people to help him get that motor back into the car. His statement meant one thing: he no longer wanted my help, and it crushed me.
“Logan James Richards!” Darlene’s voice bellowed. “You better get back in here and finish your homework! Now, young man!”
“Uh oh,” Zander said, grinning at Logan. “I think you’re in trouble.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I was supposed to tell you to come home.”
“Man,” Logan whined. “I never get to do anything.”
“Maybe if you do your homework, she’ll let you come out after supper,” I suggested.