“Mr. Davies said you and Fletcher took to the hallways and streets like little monsters to collect the donations for the drive.”
“Yeah, we put in quite a few hours,” I said. “Fletcher has been tackling most of the heavy-lifting on his own for a couple of weeks, so I stepped in the moment I found out I was staying in Sugar Creek. I’m just trying to help lighten his workload.” She placed a protective arm around my shoulder as I continued, “You might want to give double-thanks to him if you can track him down. I know he already had a lot collected before I stepped in to help, but he still managed to get a lot this week, too. And I don’t know how, with having dress rehearsal every night and all.”
She smiled kindly, giving me a small squeeze.
It was strange. It was almost like nothing had ever happened, like nothing had changed . . . even though everything had changed. Still, even with the comfort in Lashell’s smile, I wasn’t sure what else I was supposed to say. Having her so close, I could’ve said or done anything. I could’ve even asked about Gabe because she would know better than anyone how he was doing.
“He’s okay,” she said quietly, giving me a little nudge with her hip. Her protective arm slid down to my waist as she hugged me a little tighter. “He’s sad and down in the dumps. Poor kiddo has consumed himself with so much guilt.”
“What?”
“He never meant to hurt you.”
“Yeah,” I nodded.
And although it should’ve given me a little solace to know that Gabe was still feeling the sting of our falling out, I wasn’t all that comforted by Lashell’s words. I mean, it’s not really what I’d hoped to hear. I didn’t want to hear that he was sad because he’d hurt me. If Gabe was upset, why couldn’t it be because he missed me as much as I missed him? Maybe it was selfish, but if he had to be sad, I wanted to hear that it was because he felt as unfulfilled as I felt. The last thing I wanted to hear was that his guilty-conscience had gotten the best of him.
“So.” I balled my hands into fists, trying to muster the nerve to ask about him without sounding too desperate. “Is he . . . is he going to be here today?”
I doubted it. He wouldn’t show up if he knew I’d be around.
“He was just outside a few minutes ago,” she said, nodding to the front doors of the gymnasium, the ones that led into the south side of the school’s parking lot. “I’m sure he’ll be in soon.”
“Oh,” I said again. “That’s great.”
And then I found my head subtly turn away from her, my eyes scanning the room for his familiar face.
“Mandy, look, look!” A high-pitched voice called over, and my head snapped down to little Amanda’s level. She ran down the center of the gym, dragging her mother behind her, and then she stopped only a foot away from me and Lashell. My RI leader finally loosened her grip on my waist and took a step to the side. “Mommy found a coat, and it’s pink like mine!”
“It sure is,” I said, looking to the coat clutched in the mother’s hands. “And look.” I turned back to the table and snatched up the hat and scarf I’d found. “I’m still browsing for some gloves, but I thought you might like to try these on and see how they fit.”
Staring wide-eyed, she reached for both pieces and took them in her hands.
“Are these for me?”
“You can have one,” her mother told her.
“No, no,” I insisted. “There’s plenty to go around. She can take all she wants.”
“Thanks!” the little girl said, and it drowned out the quiet tone of her mother’s same sentiment.
I finally found a pair of tiny gloves in one of the boxes, and after a quick round of goodbyes, the two turned away and headed for the front doors.
“Such a cute kid,” I said, watching her tug at her mother’s arm as she talked non-stop.
“And you just made her day.” Lashell nodded up at a coat rack at the middle of the gym. “I’m going to check in on Fletcher, see how things are going up front. Keep up the good work, hon.”
She disappeared into the crowd of people, coat racks, and tables, and I finally turned back to the two boxes I’d picked up off the floor only a few minutes ago. I pulled a dozen hats from the first box and laid them out in an organized fashion on the empty table, displaying them a little better for the passersby. It wasn’t until I’d unloaded both boxes that I heard Carla’s girlish giggle echo past me, and I snapped my head to find her in the crowd.
If she was nearby, then I might finally have the chance I needed to swoop in and talk to her about the finale fundraiser.
When I turned around and spotted her lurking behind a coat rack, my heart lurched into my throat. She was organizing coats on the rail, pulling some and rearranging others as she circled the rack.
And then there was Gabe—tall, brooding, silent Gabe, standing only a few short feet away from Carla’s station. He kept his arms folded at his chest as he listened to her ramble. Every now and then, and very rarely, he’d respond, and she’d react like she always did: smiling, giggling, and twirling her hair. She turned into a completely different person around him. It was, in the simplest of terms, entertaining.
I watched her for the better part of two minutes, carrying on that way. And although I couldn’t hear what they were saying or read their lips in any way, I could tell that Gabe wasn’t remotely interested in their little exchange. He only pretended to listen—being nice, because that’s what Gabe did best. At one point I even saw him check his watch as she turned her back to him. There were a couple of bored glances up at the ceiling, a few looks over his shoulder, and then one straight look forward—right at me.
Our eyes locked and my chest tightened.
This could be our opportunity—our chance to see how things would go. If he came over here now, then maybe we could put this negativity to rest, once and for all. Maybe we could talk, work past whatever it was that had scared him away, whatever it was that was keeping us apart.
But that couldn’t happen. Not here, not now. There were too many people and too many risks. I couldn’t expect him to walk over and say anything more than a simple hello. I needed to accept that exchanges with Gabe would remain very minimal, at least until the program was over at the end of the month.
The moments drifted slowly as we watched one another, neither of us moving or breaking eye contact. His breathing seemed to have slowed as quickly as mine because we were both frozen in time.
Do something noncommittal, Mandy. Something friendly but evasive.
It took every ounce of energy and strength I had to move again. I lifted my hand in a subtle wave, mouthed a silent hi, and forced my lips into an awkward smile.
And that was all it took.
He finally moved, but not in the direction I was hoping for. He leaned over and said something to Carla, something that looked an awful lot like “sorry, but I’ve gotta run,” and then he did just that. He turned on his heel and walked away, but then his limp turned into a brisk jog, and before I knew it, he was out the door and out of sight.
So I finally knew for sure.
As far as Gabe and I were concerned, he was going to run away at every hello, and I would have no choice but to sit back and wait for him to stop.
It was going to be a long, despairing wait.
The clothing drive ended at sundown, and Lashell stuck around to help Fletcher and me clean up while the other volunteers disappeared into the night. We had one more opening to the public the next day, so it was necessary for us to get a clear idea of inventory. Not to mention, it gave us a perfect opportunity to take estimate of what we’d already sent away with grateful owners and to really take stock of how much the clothing drive had already impacted Sugar Creek in only a few short hours.
“Shelly,” Gabe’s voice echoed through the gym, bouncing off the wall and resonating through my body. It was gentle, sweet—everything I knew he was.
I turned from my table in the back and watched as he stuck his head through the double doors up front, c
atching Lashell’s eye.
“What’s up, hon?”
“I have another load of donations out in the car,” he said. “Leftovers from the Desden drive. Should we unload those tonight or wait for morning?”
“Sure. Bring ‘em in, we’ll get everything set up before we lock down for the night. Fletcher, Mandy,” she said, turning to us, “you want to give him a hand?”
Gabe’s head snapped in our direction, his blue eyes widening further the longer he stared between the two of us. It was as though he was realizing for the first time that he and Lashell were not alone in the gym.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, lifting a hand. “I can get it.”
“Nonsense.”
“I can get it,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Stop being stubborn and lose the attitude.” She pointed a finger at him. “Let them help you. You’ll get it done faster, and we can all get out of here before it gets any later.”
He dropped his shoulders and turned back out the door, not giving the three of us another look before he disappeared back outside. Fletcher and I headed out the door behind him to find his black Corolla parked off in the first row of the lot. The trunk was wide open and stacked with cardboard boxes. The backseat, I noticed, was piled just as high.
By the time we reached the car, Gabe was already headed back toward the school with a stack of boxes in hand, avoiding a look at either of us as he crossed our paths and headed back into the school.
“You know, I’m really glad to see you two have finally passed that awkward, silent phase of your break-up,” Fletcher said, lifting two boxes from the trunk.
Break-up? Not really. It was hard to give it any kind of title. Seeing as Gabe and I were barely anything more than friends, I just kept thinking of it as a falling out. It was the only label that seemed to fit. But it was hard to explain that to someone on the outside, someone who didn’t really know what Gabe and I shared. They just assumed that what they saw on TV summed up the final moments of whatever kind of relationship we had. I spilled my soul, and he ignored every heartfelt word. The end.
But that wasn’t the end. I refused to believe it was anything close to the end. It was just a pause, a break . . . but not a break-up.
“It wasn’t a break-up,” I mumbled under my breath, and then I opened the back door of the car. Leaning in, I pulled a box off the top of the pile, but Gabe’s faint, familiar smell stopped me dead in my tracks. I closed my eyes and savored it, taking one slow breath in and one slow breath out.
“You need help?”
I tried to stand straight but thumped my head on top of the car ceiling.
“Umph,” I held the back of my head as I backed out of the car, finally turning to look at Gabe. Fletcher was already inside with his first stack of boxes.
“You okay?” he asked, deadpan. He might as well have tacked on the words not that I care. The look he gave me said enough.
“You scared me.”
“Sorry,” he said, his apology unconvincing.
And those were the only words he said to me for the rest of the night. Between the three of us, we were able to carry the boxes out of his car and into the gym in no time at all. It was the unpacking, sorting, and hanging part that took so long.
Very little conversation took place in the half-hour that the four of us worked. The room was thick with tension, and I was beginning to feel it even from Lashell and Fletcher. I hated that they were getting the raw end of something that had nothing to do with them. I hated it, but what could I do? Gabe had taken it upon himself to set the mood, and the rest of us were just going along with it.
“That’s the last of it,” I finally said, emptying the final box. Fletcher took it and started flattening the cardboard.
“Nicely done, guys.” Lashell took a minute to sweep her gaze across the restocked gym. “Tomorrow’s a new day. I’m sure it’ll be another great success.”
“Let’s hope.” Fletcher rubbed his tired eyes with the back of his hand before depositing the flattened box into a growing pile near the door. “I’m headed out. See you guys tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Fletcher,” Lashell and I said in unison, and Gabe just nodded in his direction.
“I think, if that’s all for the night, then I’ll go ahead and make my way home, too,” I said, looking to my two RI leaders, but Lashell was the only one who met my stare. Man, I had to give him credit; when Gabe said he was going to back off, he really meant it. He wouldn’t even throw me the slightest glance. Giving up hope that he’d finally look up, I turned back to my other team leader. “Lashell, you still have the keys to lock up?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She patted her front pocket to double-check. “Yup.”
“Okay,” I said, dropping my shoulder as I walked by them. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” she said, and then she lifted her chin to look at Gabe. Her stare was an obvious say something kind of hint, but just like he’d done with Fletcher, Gabe only nodded.
I guess he’d decided to stick firmly to what he’d said back in the hallway on Wednesday. He was just going to carry on acting like what I’d said had never happened. Entertaining the idea of being with me—or even talking to me, apparently—was nothing more than bad exposure for him, the group, and even me. If he wasn’t going to say anything, though, I felt like it was my responsibility to make sure he knew that I was still open, ready, and willing to communicate with him. So I made the first move.
“Goodnight, Gabe,” I said, leaning just far enough down to steal his gaze from the floor. His head remained low, but he peeked up through the top of his eyes and studied me. “Thanks for everything tonight.”
Again, he just nodded and then diverted his stare back to the floor.
I closed my eyes for only a second, trying not to let his silence get the best of me. I couldn’t. He’d already made it perfectly clear that he was putting a wedge between us, so I knew better than to expect anything more. I wasn’t going to push him. I wouldn’t.
I turned out of the gym doors, stopping just as the cold air hit me. I heard Lashell say, “Oh, for crying out loud! You could at least talk to the poor girl. All she wanted was a simple goodnight!”
I grinned. That was Lashell, always looking out for everyone. And as much as I appreciated it, I didn’t need her to concern herself with my wellbeing; I was really okay with letting Gabe bide his time.
Chapter Three
I left school and went straight home to send a text to Carla, asking her to meet me for breakfast at Maurine’s Diner the next morning. Sharing the success of the clothing drive with Fletcher and having the idea for the dance finale to take credit for in the end, I was confident that things were right on course. All I had to do was steal five minutes of Carla’s time, take control of the finale fundraiser once and for all, and I’d finally have myself positioned in a really great spot to win the RI scholarship.
After sending the text, I fell asleep waiting on a response, one that I didn’t get until the following day. I woke up to a message reading okay, sure. Had I known how horribly things would go when we sat down together for our breakfast the next morning, though, I might’ve just preferred to skip it altogether.
“I’m keeping it.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, feeling a heavy force knock the wind out of me. I struggled to find my breath. Listening to her declaration . . . it was like having my own worst fear realized. Was she serious?
“I’m sorry, Mandy, but it’s not fair. You had your chance,” she said, bringing the notebook—my notebook!—closer to her chest. If she’d really meant what she said, that she was keeping it and had no plan to give it back, then I was at a complete loss as to why she’d even bothered bringing it in the first place. Was it just to taunt me? “You turned it over to me, remember? You said you were counting on me to make the dance a success, and then you handed me the reins. You gave up.”
“I didn’t give up,” I said, somehow managing to keep my
voice reasonably calm. “We were moving to LA, Carla. The only reason I turned the dance over to you was because I was supposed to be in California. But plans changed, and we’re not going anywhere. I thought you’d understand.”
“I do understand. I understand just fine,” she said. “You gave it to me, I accepted, and now it’s mine.”
She clutched the notebook to her chest even tighter as if she feared that I might actually reach across the table and rip it away from her. At one point I actually thought I might, but I was too shocked to act irrationally. I was still trying to digest the fact that someone I’d befriended and trusted could turn on me so quickly.
I’d always known that Carla was highly competitive, and there was no secret that she wanted the scholarship as badly as I did. But the sickening part was that I’d trusted her, and she turned right back around and slapped me in the face for doing so. I’d never seen it coming. I’d never witnessed anything but a nice, calm, nurturing side of Carla. And in spite of those irritating times she’d flirted with Gabe at our district events, I’d still respected her.
“Carla, please,” I pleaded. I slid a little closer to the table and steadied my breath. I didn’t want to fight with her. I didn’t see that there was any reason to fight. “I just thought that since the dance was my idea—”
“Listen,” she said, shrugging an unapologetic shoulder, “I’m sorry, but I’m not changing my mind. You have no idea how much work I’ve put into this already. I went business-to-business picking up the donations this week, and I put in a lot of calls to find a company to donate the refreshments. I’ve picked up the invitations from the printer— ”
Breaking Walls Page 3