Effortless With You

by Lizzy Charles

  “Let me guess,” Marissa continues. “You had an entire burger for dinner?” Marissa waits for an answer which, thankfully, Sally doesn’t provide. “You did, didn’t you? Honey, if you want to look great like me, you can only eat a few bites.” Marissa’s heels click toward the door and then the door squeaks closed. Finally.

  The sniffing starts. I watch the Converse shoes cross in front of my stall. The stall next to mine creaks open and shut. Her sniffing grows more urgent. The toilet-paper holder clangs against my stall’s wall. She sobs and blows her nose.

  I want to give her privacy but I can’t. As far as she knows, she and Marissa were alone. The thought of being fourteen and having a senior rip you apart while her junior friend listened is enough to destroy any girl. She doesn’t need to know I was here.

  I wait with my arms hugging my legs up on the toilet seat, barely breathing. Sally sniffles and her occasional sobs sound like they could be my own.

  The toilet-paper roll clangs against my stall’s wall. One last sniff before Converse shoes walk out to the sink. Water splashes, the best way to calm a tear-stained face. The door squeaks open and shut. I’m alone.

  I release my grip on my knees and my insides collapse. I should have opened the stall door and told Marissa to stop the moment she said “Excuse me.” I should have given Sally a hug and comforted her or at least explained how Marissa works. But no, I picked up my feet, hugging them to my chest on a toilet seat. How have I come to this?

  I wash my hands out of habit and return to the pool room. My gut churns. Sally sits on a stool, Alex standing behind her giving her a slow, rocking hug. A smile is plastered on her face, trying to hold it all together. Alex whispers in her ear and she temporarily drops her smile, nodding. He takes her hand and leads her from the room. I’m impressed. He’s an in-tune boyfriend.

  I jump when a hand suddenly rests on my shoulder. It’s ridiculous how easy I jump. But after that year of the seniors torturing me in the locker room, I just can’t help it.

  “Marissa and I are going to run out to her car.” Zach rubs his chin.

  “Yeah, you know my front tire? How it screeches when I turn left? Zach says he’d take a look at it.”

  “Oh, okay.” Her front tire did squeak. “I’ll come watch.” I’d love to see Zach looking over a car. Guys like that.

  “No need.” Marissa points me back to the pool table. “Stay, play, have fun.”

  “Yeah, you can stay here, Lucy. It’ll be totally boring.” Zach pulls me to him, his hands around my waist, and gives me a kiss. “I want you to have a good time tonight.” He smiles down at me and my knees go weak. “Go play pool. I’ll be right back and then I can show you how to throw darts.” I nod. “Just you and me.” He kisses my cheek and then he and Marissa are gone.

  I end up at the pool table, fighting a daze. I don’t want to play pool. I want to hang out with Zach and Marissa, watching Zach work on the car. His kiss threw me off. No. I want to be with him. I should be with him. As I turn to leave, I bump into Matt.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He has two pool sticks in hand. “I was just coming over to see if you wanted to shoot with me?” Matt holds out a pool cue.

  I relent. Zach will be back soon anyway. “Okay, I suck though.”

  “Doesn’t matter. We’re just going to shoot. Any ball, any time, any pocket.”

  I smile back at him. That, I can do.

  I like shooting pool with Matt. He is quiet and simple. He says exactly what he is thinking but never too much. We talk about math class and the final exam. He got a B+ in the class. I tell him I got a C.

  “What?” He straightens up in disbelief. “You always aced every pop quiz and test.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “My last name is Yates. Y before Z. I always correct your exams.” No wonder I always corrected Shaun Anderson’s paper. “So, how did you get a C?”

  I cringe. It is one thing to have your parents call you out on your grades, but a classmate?

  “Homework.” He looks at me with one eyebrow raised. “I hate busy work.” It’s a lame excuse.

  “Yeah, busy work sucks. I get that. But, I figure, if you can’t bring yourself to do it now, you’ll just have to do it later. Life happens that way.”

  Is he talking about homework or is he being more philosophical? Maybe he’s saying I won’t get into college, so I’ll have crappy jobs the rest of my life. Or does he mean that life is always filled with busy work, so get used to it?

  I shoot the number four ball into the left, back pocket. Or, maybe, just maybe, I’m thinking too much.

  “I bet your parents were pissed, huh?” he asks.

  “Yup. Grounded.”

  “Is that why your mom crashed Watson’s party? You snuck out?”

  I blush. I didn’t know Matt had been there.

  “Exactly.”

  Matt takes a shot, sinking two balls. “Then what happened?”

  “Oh.” Other than the nurse, no one has asked me that before.

  “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  “No, it’s just. No one’s really wanted to know.” I hate that this is true.

  Matt looks at the door that leads to our cars, where Zach and Marissa are. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well then,” he rests his chin on top of his pool stick. “What happened?”

  “They made me get a job.” And so I start my story. Matt nods and “uhuh’s” with me through my whole story. When I get through the hospital part, he simply says “that sucks,” and he means it.

  It feels so good to tell someone who listens. Before I know it, I’m telling him about Justin and how he is driving me crazy mad.

  “Oh, don’t sweat it. Justin’s awesome.”

  I scrunch up my face. I was worried he’d say that. My respect for Matt falls a few notches. Why can’t regular people see how Justin is only crazy in love with himself?

  Matt opens his mouth to explain but I never hear it. Marissa and Zach walk in together. Marissa announces, “Ten o’clock, Lucy. Curfew. Gotta get you home or your mom will kill me.”

  I want to crawl under the pool table and die.

  Matt scrunches up his nose, studying Marissa and me. He walks with me to the door, pulling me aside as Zach and Marissa leave. “Why her?”

  “It’s a long story. She’s not that bad. I mean, she is, but she isn’t. She saved me.”

  “Saved you?”

  “Again, long story.” Marissa honks her horn. “I’ll see you later?”

  “Yes. At my birthday party, okay? Don’t miss it. I’ll text you.”

  Honk.

  “Absolutely.”

  Zach waits for me outside Marissa’s car. He opens his arms and I wrap myself in them.

  “Thanks for the dinner,” I say, trying to sound intriguing.

  “Yup. No sweat.” He pulls out of the hug and looks down at me with a relaxed grin. “I had a fun night.”

  “Me too.” I lie.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow night, okay?” He opens the passenger door for me and I slide in.

  “Oh, okay.” The goodbye is too quick. Marissa starts pulling away and I haven’t even had a chance to kiss him. Oh, okay is the best thing I can come up with. Mental note: plan boyfriend goodbyes in advance.

  “I so need a boyfriend.” Marissa hits the steering wheel.

  “You will snag the right guy, soon.” She looks at me like I’m crazy. “The Justin plan.” I smile, thinking about how annoyed Justin will become with her reckless pursuit. He deserves it.

  “Of course. But that’s not now. With my calculations, it’ll be a month before I can seal that deal. That’s like half the summer.”

  “But it’s worth it, right? I mean, Marissa, we’re talking about Justin here.” I suppress my gag. Marissa looks mad and lonely. If I can eliminate at least one of her emotions, the drive will be much more tolerable.

  “You know what? You’re
actually right. Justin is worth the wait. I need to focus, set my eyes on the prize, you know?”

  “Exactly. Pursue him with all you’ve got.”

  “Hell, yes.” Marissa giggles and puts her foot on the accelerator. Crisis averted.

  How does Marissa live with her emotions constantly oscillating? Flirtatiousness. Jealousy. Loneliness. Excitement. Keeping ahead of her exhausts me. I can’t let her dwell; it’d be too easy to slip onto her bad side. I don’t want to be the lame friend with a ten o’clock curfew. Will I ever achieve a status she is happy with?

  But then I think of Sally and wonder if I even want to.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Justin’s white truck sputters up my driveway. His door flies open and I wave him back. No way am I letting him come in. I can’t let him infiltrate my life further. Who picks up people at the front door anyway? Normal people wait in the driveway. Somehow Justin stays on top of the social pyramid when he clearly doesn’t play by the rules. It pisses me off.

  “Good morning,” Justin says as I open the passenger door and shove my stuffed bag under the seat. Justin snickers. “I see someone decided to come prepared.”

  “Better than not.”

  “Like the other day?”

  “You could have given me more of a warning of what to expect.”

  Justin puts the car in reverse. “Hey, I offered you help. You didn’t want it.”

  “But you knew that would happen, didn’t you?”

  “I hoped not. I was banking on you listening to Alex.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “But you’re more stubborn than I thought.”

  I purse my lips. “I wasn’t stubborn. I was thirsty. You can survive for a month without food but only a few days without water.” He laughs at me. My fingers clench. “I’m serious.”

  He waves my comment away. “Well, despite your survival facts, Alex should have stopped you.”

  “To his credit, Alex tried. He did.”

  Justin shrugs and pulls onto the exit for the Cross-Town Highway.

  “We aren’t going back to the yellow house?”

  “Nope. We finished it yesterday. Starting a big project today, an association of homes. We’ll be based out there for a month or so.”

  “Where is out there?”

  “Minnetonka. About a fifty-minute drive.”

  Forty-six minutes to go.

  “Get comfortable.” Justin turns on the radio to some news station. The news is growing on me and it keeps Justin silent. He’s much more tolerable that way.

  I zone out, watching the people in the cars next to us, all rushing. A man passes us on the right talking on his Bluetooth, already working for the day. A woman applies lipstick and sings while driving a red minivan that looks like an opossum, hood slanted like a nose to the ground. Toys litter her backseat. She seems happy to be having the drive alone.

  Mom got rid of our minivan when I started on the high school basketball team. She called the van her “Tween Bus.” Filled with middle school girls, lip gloss, magazines, iPods, basketball bags, lotions, and ribbons, it earned its name. The van was old, with bench seats and no CD player, which is exactly why Mom bought it. She couldn’t handle our chatter and music. I guess I can’t blame her for that.

  My heart aches. I really miss those girls. I drifted away during freshman year. I didn’t want to have to answer their questions—they were too good at asking them. I stopped answering phone calls and stood them up for our basketball dates. Eventually, the calls stopped coming. Instead of talking on the phone, I sat alone in my room and cried. What did I expect, them to rescue me? No one could rescue me from that situation … except for Marissa, and she did.

  No. I don’t need to feel lost today. What I need is confidence, dignity, and the ability to not fall flat on my face. I scroll through my iPod, skipping Marissa-made playlists and select Mozart. I crank the volume down, the perfect background track. He seems to fit the weather and general vibe of the day.

  I peek at Justin, who sits back relaxed, attentively listening to the newscast. I wouldn’t have pinned him as an NPR listener. He hasn’t shaved this morning so his extra-thick stubble highlights his square jaw. My stomach flips in a girly way, and I make myself focus on the windshield. Okay. So what? He’s gorgeous but still a jerk. I shift my eyes toward the clock, thirty more minutes, and then close them to rest.

  NPR features two doctors and two nutritionists debating the Gluten Disease. I peek at Justin who’s strumming his fingers on the steering wheel, like this is a really great song. The NPR mediator takes a brief break and switches to a commercial. A frail voice cracks through the speakers. “I want to be a football player. Not have leukemia.” Another voice adds, “I was a ballerina … until leukemia.” Soft music begins to play, making my heart ache. Crap. I’m such a softie for these advertisements. I wait it out, listening to the celebrity call for action to help Children’s Leukemia Research. I thumb my phone, feeling guilty. But it’s not like I even have a credit card to give anything with. Heck, if I gave money every time I felt moved, my parents would be broke.

  Justin, on the other hand, grabs his phone off the center console and scrolls through his contacts, pushing SEND.

  Ha. He hadn’t even noticed the commercial. He’s probably calling Jennifer, arranging a hot date for the night. How insensitive! Not that I was planning to call in, but still.

  “Kate, hey!” Justin’s voice is smooth. “Great to hear your voice again too.” He pauses, scratching that fabulous stubble. “Naw. I don’t want to go on air in Phoenix. Just put me down for the usual.”

  On air?

  The NPR mediator returns, announcing the next segment, a live research conference on Children’s Leukemia Research from Phoenix.

  Holy crap.

  He’s donating!

  “We should definitely catch up. When are you in town again?” He motions for me to open the glove box. He points and smiles at a small black notebook and pen. I hand it back. Seriously? Is he always this prepared?

  “A month? Great. I’d love to help. What’s your cell?” He jots her name and number across his pad. “Fantastic. Thanks for the opportunity. You’ve got my number?”

  Stupid question. Of course she does. He’s freakin’ Justin Marshall.

  “Sounds good. Have a good one,” he says before hanging up.

  That short conversation adds a whole new dimension to Justin. He’s a regular donator. But why? How?

  He hands the notebook back to me. “Thanks.”

  As I place it back in the glove box, a political advertisement for his dad catches on my finger. Ahh, right.

  “So? Are you commissioned to donate to research facilities on behalf of your dad’s campaign or something?” The question flies from my mouth before I can stop it. Horrible, rude. But then again, it is Justin. It’s not like he hasn’t ever been blunt with me.

  Justin’s green eyes snag my breath with their intensity. “No,” he says. “I donate my own money and time to leukemia research.”

  “Are you prepping for your own run for senate soon?” This all makes sense. A future politician. He’s smart, keeping his record clean. Already building a foundation.

  “Ah, I see you have me all figured out.”

  “Pretty much. It’s not a bad thing to be so transparent though. I’m sure you’ll make a great senator someday.”

  “Do I have your vote?”

  Ha. “Probably not.”

  “I didn’t think so,” he says with a slight smile. “I’ll have to change that, huh?”

  “Good luck trying.”

  Justin nods as he switches into the right-hand lane, before slowly pulling off to the shoulder of the road and throwing on his hazard lights.

  “You better not be giving me a campaign speech or something. I’m locked in here. Totally not fair.”

  His green eyes find mine again. “Lucy, what do you know about my family?”

  “Why are we on the side of the road?”

  “Just an
swer the question.”

  I sigh, debating how much it’s appropriate for me to reveal. From Marissa’s obsession, I already know far too much. “Well, your dad’s running for governor. Your mom runs charities.” He nods along. “Doesn’t your sister have a home design business or something?”

  “Sort of. Fashion, actually.”

  “Right. You kind of have the perfect family.” It’s true. Everyone knows it.

  “We all love each other and aren’t afraid to show it.” His words fall gently.

  “You’re lucky.” Bitterness bites on my tongue as my stomach clenches. My family dynamics are so far from that.

  “Yeah, well, tragedy brings a family together.”

  I swallow. “What happened?” My stomach tightens. I can’t believe I asked that.

  He nods to the radio. “My older brother, Jackson, died from leukemia when I was four. He was seven. I was his bone-marrow donor. I gave it twice. … It never took.”

  My hand flies over my mouth. I’m such an ass. Here he’s been being real, and I’ve been a total jerk. I reach out and touch his arm. “I’m sorry for your loss and that that happened to your family.”

  Justin blinks the redness away. “Yeah, well, our family doesn’t really advertise it. We give quietly. It’s not that we aren’t proud or wanting to keep the memory of Jackson alive. It’s just our thing that the media doesn’t need to know about.” He smiles at me, but not his fake smile. It’s real, relaxed.

  “You must think I’m horrible, assuming you donated for political gain.”

  “It’s an interesting insight.” He glances down at my hand still resting on his arm. Oh, right. I pull it back as he says, “You never know what the future may hold. But, preferably, I’ll go into the business of medical research.” He shifts the truck into drive and pulls back onto the highway.

  Silence hangs between us. It sucks. This is the first time I’ve ever wanted Justin to speak to me and I’ve given him every reason to close up. I take a deep breath. He’s got to at least know I care.

  “I really am sorry about your brother.”

  He nods. “Thanks. That means a lot. It’s alright though. I’ll see him again someday.” His confidence surprises me. I don’t know any guy who talks about faith so frankly. “In the meantime, I’ve got my sister and my parents. We’re lucky.” He pulls back onto the highway. “Tell me about your family.”