Hearts Made for Breaking

by Jen Klein

  “Please.” Cooper jabs a hand into his hip. “I haven’t ever stopped looking.”

  “Speaking of which”—Katie nudges me—“after the game on Friday, there’s a party at Jonathan Lee’s house. His parents are in the Bahamas. All the football players are going.” Belatedly, she looks at Cooper. “Crabby Pants can come, too.”

  “Gee, thanks,” he says, sarcastic as always.

  “I’ll let you know,” I tell her. “I kinda want to see how the week goes.”

  Katie’s perfectly arched brows dart down in a frown. “You’re, like, a minute in, and you need permission to go to a party?”

  “No.” That’s not it at all. I don’t need Ardy’s permission. It’s more that…I don’t know if I want to go to a party with Katie right now. She’ll hook up with someone and expect me to do the same. “My three months just started,” I tell her. “I’m off the market.”

  “Whatever.” She looks from me to Cooper. “It’s high school. No one said marry him. The bell’s about to ring.”

  And then she’s gone.

  All through Calculus and World History and Art, I can’t stop thinking about Ardy. I picture the way his eyes were serious when he first showed up on my porch. How he touched me with one finger. I even find myself replaying the angle at which he carries his bag, with the strap slung diagonally over his body. It’s like the sun is shining brighter today, and if I were outside, I’m pretty sure I would hear birds singing just for me.

  Yep, I’ve turned into a Disney princess.

  Lunch can’t get here soon enough.

  * * *

  When I walk into the cafeteria, the very first person I see is Hope. She brought her lunch today, so she’s already planted at the table where she and Ardy and Evan usually sit. She waves me over. “Eat with us,” she says, which of course I was planning on doing anyway.

  “Okay.” I drop my backpack on the chair beside her and head to the lunch line. By the time I return with my turkey-and-arugula sandwich and bag of kale chips, Ardy and Evan are there, too. I bump my backpack to the ground and drop into the chair between Ardy and Hope. Everyone—including Ardy—gives me a halfhearted wave and then continues the discussion.

  “No way the student body votes for bowling,” Evan is saying. “Even if it’s not a prom—”

  “It’s definitely not a prom,” Hope says.

  “—no one wants their commemorative senior-year activity to involve sticking their fingers in someone else’s ball holes.”

  “Don’t say ball holes,” Ardy says.

  “Agreed,” I chime in. “With Ardy, I mean. I don’t know how people will vote.”

  “How will you vote?” Evan asks me.

  “Probably for go-karting.”

  “Oh, right.” He makes a face. “Daddy’s place.”

  “I agree with Lark,” Ardy says. “It’s the most pleasantly scented.” He glances at me. “Like popcorn and burnt rubber.”

  “What?” Evan looks outraged. “What do you think roller-skating and bowling smell like?”

  “Feet,” Ardy and I say together, and then smile at each other.

  “They’re not wrong,” Hope says. She’s smiling, too.

  “Whatever,” Evan says. “The whole thing is bullshit. We should be having a normal prom like normal schools.”

  “Because you want to be crowned king,” Hope teases him.

  “You’d be a hot queen.” Evan leans over and kisses her on the mouth. Ordinarily, I would be revolted, but now I find myself wishing Ardy would do the same thing to me.

  Hope pulls back from the make-out session and glances at me, then at Ardy. It makes me wonder what she knows.

  Unless it’s nothing because, against all odds, Ardy didn’t tell Hope. And if that’s the case, why not? Does he have feelings for her, as I have suspected all along? Am I merely a means to an end, a way to make her jealous? Sure, it was romantic when he showed up on my porch, but what if that’s all it was? Fifteen minutes of romance and then…nothing.

  I have no idea. All I know is that while I have certainly been into a new boy before, it’s never felt like this.

  Ardy stretches in his seat, and his knee brushes against mine. It’s like an electric shock, jolting me into awareness. At first I jerk away, but then I wonder whether he did it on purpose. I allow my left knee to drift back, very slowly, until it’s resting against his, just barely, under the table. So, so lightly, like it’s hardly there. Ardy might not notice it, it’s so faint. In fact, it’s possible that I’m only flirting with his slim-fit denims right now, because although Ardy doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t make a move toward me, either.

  Ardy and I stay in that position—our knees kind of touching, neither of us budging—while the four of us talk about homework and Evan’s upcoming soccer game. But even as I’m making casual conversation, I’m tingling. Every fiber of me is focused on that one spot—the very outer edge of my left knee—that is resting against Ardy.

  If only I could know for sure that he’s feeling the same way.

  Or that he knows it’s happening.

  * * *

  After English, although I don’t see Ardy for the rest of the day, I spend the remaining classes thinking about him, wondering if this is going somewhere, if I even know how to get somewhere with another person. He’s not in my locker hallway (I go to my locker between all my classes, just in case), and I don’t run into him anywhere else, either. I’m resigned to spending my evening wondering WTF is going on.

  School’s over and I go out to the flagpoles to meet Leo…

  And Ardy’s waiting for me.

  I stop a couple of feet in front of him, and we smile at each other. “Hey,” I say.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Are we driving you home again?” says Leo, walking up.

  “Leo.” I might kill him.

  “What?” My little brother clearly doesn’t have a problem with being dead.

  I shoot him a don’t be a jerk glance, and then—when he shrugs—I dig my car keys out of my purse and toss them to him. “Wait in my car. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Leo walks away, and I turn toward Ardy. He’s smiling, and it’s that same smile from before. The sunshine one. The one that twists me upside down. “I like your outfit.”

  Just like that, I know he got my message, the one I was sending when I got dressed this morning. He’s paying attention; he’s been paying attention. So why…

  Why.

  WHY.

  And this time, I don’t give him a pass. In fact, I set my hands on his arms and give him a little shove. “Dude.”

  Which makes Ardy look really confused. “I…what?”

  “Is this your thing?” I ask him, exasperated past all exasperation. “You’re confusing for hours on end, and then you suddenly show up at the end of the day to be all dashing and romantic when I’m not expecting it?”

  Ardy looks taken aback. “Is that what I’m doing?”

  “Yes!” I explode at him. “Get a new move!”

  Ardy folds his arms and seems to be considering. “That’s a fair assessment,” he finally says. “It’s just that it takes me a minute to sort through things.”

  “Things?” I’m at the end of my rope.

  “What I’m feeling.”

  I wait, tapping my foot.

  Yes, literally tapping my foot, the one that’s encased in a tan suede sandal. Going from toe to heel in my pattern.

  “I don’t think we’re supposed to move too quickly,” Ardy says. “Like we shouldn’t jump straight from quail leg to committed relationship…right?”

  If Cooper were here, he would be like, Why is quail leg a relationship step? But he’s not, so I ask a different question. “You’re saying we should take it slow?”

  “I guess so?” His brown eyes are
pleading. “Let’s be friends.” Before I can answer—because I’m nearly choked by the instant pain bubbling up in me—he takes a step closer, setting his hands on my shoulders. “Not just friends. I’m not saying that. I mean…let’s be that, too.”

  I relax a little. It’s not a before-it-starts breakup. “You want to get to know each other?” I clarify.

  “Yes.” The pressure of his fingers on my shoulders increases. “A lot.” His voice is so low and gentle that—somehow—it makes me clench inside.

  “I want that, too,” I whisper. Because it’s true. Because I’m dying to know everything about him.

  “How do we make that happen?” he asks.

  “Tomorrow night,” I say. “I’m working at Wheelz.”

  He cocks his head. “And…?”

  “Come by. I’ll hook you up with a race and some popcorn.”

  “I’ll be terrible,” Ardy says. “I mean, not at the popcorn. I’m pretty good with popcorn.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “Are you sure?” He’s looking at me in a way that tells me he’s not only talking about the racing. “I really might not be good at it. I might not know what I’m doing.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” I tell him, 100 percent meaning it.

  “Okay.” His smile shines all over me, warming even the most cynical of places. “Tomorrow, then.”

  * * *

  I glare at Cooper over our booth at Bob’s Big Boy in Toluca Lake, then take a sip of my Oreo milk shake to try to cool off. It doesn’t work, so I set it down and continue my glare.

  “Do not,” I tell Cooper. “Please do not make me feel bad about the stupid game right now. Not when I’m actually happy.”

  “How do you know you’re happy?” Cooper rests his elbows on the table, leaning toward me. “You’ve been here before. Like, a lot.”

  “Can’t you let me enjoy this?” I ask, frustrated. “Aren’t you supposed to want me to have a decent relationship?”

  “You’re calling it a relationship now? Today—this actual day, like a few hours ago—you said you needed a minute.”

  “A minute to enjoy it!” A man in a checkered shirt across the aisle glances at me, and I lower my voice. “Cooper, I really like him. Let me have this. Please.”

  Cooper takes in my pleading and the anger behind it. Then he reaches across the table and slides both his hands over both of mine. “I have to tell you something.”

  My heart sinks. “What?”

  “You know Ian goes to the public school. Katie thought I should ask him about Ardy.”

  “Really, now you and Katie are on the same side?”

  “Never,” Cooper says. “But we did agree that Ian might know something about Ardy’s reputation.”

  “Everyone has some sort of reputation.” I frown, pulling away from him. “I have one, you have one. What?” Because Cooper is looking at me with something approximating sympathy.

  “People there think he’s weird.”

  “Weird? Is that the worst Ian can come up with? What does that even mean?”

  “Ian says he’s one of those guys who don’t get invites to parties.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s different or something.”

  Well, that’s just stupid. The reason I even like Ardy in the first place is because he’s different. I glare at Cooper. “Isn’t the point that I’m supposed to be with someone different? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “That’s what Katie wanted,” Cooper clarified. “I wanted you to like a boy you make out with.”

  “Mission accomplished,” I tell him. “So stop bugging me about it.”

  “That’s not all.” Cooper looks more earnest than before. “They say that Ardy’s breakups go…bad.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I cannot—cannot—believe that I’m getting this crap from Cooper right now. Now, when I’m at the very beginning of something that could be awesome.

  “It’s why they say he’s Undateable,” Cooper says. “It’s not about being with him—it’s about breaking up with him. He’s like the opposite of you. Ian said that, in good conscience, he needed to tell me about it.”

  It makes me hate Ian even more. Not only is he the most boring boyfriend who’s ever existed, but also he apparently lives to ruin other people’s happiness.

  “Except you’re not telling me anything. You’re giving me a stupid adjective—Undateable. Like that means anything. From what you and Katie say, people should be calling me Undateable.”

  “I don’t know anything else,” Cooper says. “Ian didn’t have details. But he says everyone knows it at his school. It’s one of those things that’s spoken about in hushed tones. Like, he leaves dead squirrels on his exes’ porches. Or sets fire to their cars or something.”

  “What?”

  “It’s bad,” Cooper says. “Like, cops-are-involved bad. But you can’t Google it because of juvenile privacy laws.”

  I’m so angry and resentful and worried that I don’t know what to say. Cooper can obviously see it all over my face, because he sighs. “I don’t know a lot of details, and neither did Ian. But—seriously—it’s a thing there. Everyone knows it.” He follows it up with, “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  Screw the messenger. I’d rather go straight to the source. “You’d better get me some names,” I tell Cooper. “Ian had better have solid freaking data if he’s going to throw crap like that around.”

  “Larks.” Cooper looks at me beseechingly. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but then you started talking about actually liking him. I don’t want you to get mixed up in something that’s going to end up really bad.”

  “You started a game that’s all about how I can’t end things badly!” My voice scales up, and once again Checkered Shirt Guy glances over. This time he scowls. I scowl right back, and he returns his eyes to his newspaper. “You want someone to be heartbroken!”

  “I didn’t,” Cooper assures me. “And I don’t. I’m only letting you know what Ian said.”

  God, Ian sucks.

  “I’ll get names,” Cooper says. “Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe they’re just rumors. I’ll ask Ian.”

  “You’d better.”

  I grab my milk shake and start drinking it again, two thoughts racing through my head. The first: I loathe Ian to the core of my being. And the second…

  Oh shit.

  I’m in first period when the morning announcements tell us to vote for the Not-Prom location. We all use the phones we’re supposedly not supposed to have in class to vote on the school website. At least the people who care about the Not-Prom do. As I look around after casting my vote for Wheelz, I realize there are plenty of kids ignoring the summons to perform their civic duty.

  See, this is what’s wrong with America.

  I take different hallways to get to my classes so I can avoid Cooper and Katie. I just need a few hours without being judged and watched by them. At lunchtime, I grab a poor excuse for a meal from a vending machine—cucumber-infused water, Marcona almonds, kale chips—and head for the first-floor stairwell. To my chagrin, Wade Collins is already here with Keeshana Pierce. They’re doing exactly the same thing I did the last time I was here with Wade: making out against the wall. “Oops, sorry,” I say when I round the corner and almost run right into them.

  “Oh, hey.” Keeshana brushes a dreadlock away from her face and grins at me. “I hope go-karts win, don’t you?”

  “Duh,” Wade says. “Her parents own the place.”

  “Really?” Keeshana’s eyes get big. “You can race whenever you want?”

  “Pretty much.” I back away, not wanting to intrude. “Come by when I’m working sometime. I’ll give you a discount.”

  “Cool!” they say simultaneously as I make my escape.

  Luckily, one o
f my other romance spots is empty: the storage closet on the third floor. I close the door behind me and sink to the floor between two computer carts to eat my vending-machine lunch.

  Given last night’s revelation—or potential revelation—I’m not ready to see Ardy. Not quite yet.

  * * *

  I come into English as the bell’s ringing, so all I have to do is flash Ardy a quick smile over the desks before sitting down. I register his quizzical look but then keep my eyes forward for the rest of class. I pack up my things well before the end of the lesson so that when it’s over I can bolt from the room with only a quick wave first.

  Votes are announced while I’m sitting in sixth-period Advanced Biology. Ms. Wilkins comes on the loudspeaker to let us all know that the Spring Fling Thing will be held at…Wheelz. I accept a handful of thumbs-ups and high fives before holding my phone under my lab desk so I can text congratulations to my dad.

  Then I go back to trying to pay attention to the workings of the nervous system.

  It’s difficult when my own nervous system is in overdrive.

  * * *

  Even though everyone here has their own reusable water bottle—and I mean they’re literally handed out on the first day of the school year—I dork around in the hallway by the French classroom, pretending to get a drink from the fountain. Hope finally comes out, and she all but tackles me as I conspicuously wipe water from my mouth. “Lark! Where were you at lunch?”

  Okay, I’ve shared a cafeteria table with her, like, five times. We have not leveled up to forever-lunch-buddy status.

  “Around,” I tell her. I’m here to see if she wants to hang out, to try to wiggle my way into her confidence so maybe she’ll drop secret information about Ardy.

  What’s wrong with me?

  Luckily, I’m saved by Hope herself. “I was going to text you anyway.” She twirls one of her shiny black pigtails between her fingers. “Do you want to spend the night this weekend? Maybe Friday?”