My breathing slows, and I rise and lean against the wall, drinking from my water bottle. At that moment, a man and a woman exit through a sliding glass door and step onto the patio of a house next door. I hop off the wall and step away, feeling like a trespasser, but my mind insists it’s seen something familiar. I turn back and see Ryan’s dad kissing a very tall brunette who is not Ryan’s mom. It’s dark out and my mind is admittedly cluttered, so I lean in and stare harder. But this picture is crystal clear. Ryan’s dad, dressed in fancy work clothes, has his hands all over this other woman in a long silk robe. Something bursts inside me, sending a stinging sensation in every direction. What do I do? How is this happening? He hasn’t seen me yet, so I could just back away quietly. I’m frozen in shock, though.
In my indecision, they sense my presence and look over. I’m spotted. For a single held breath, I lock eyes with Ryan’s dad. Then I whirl around and race back the way I came. I run as fast as I can for as long as I can, as if the more distance I put between us, the more I can believe that it hasn’t happened. I run and run until I can no longer breathe. I stop and double over, dropping my water bottle to the ground, and I grab my head. I squeeze my eyes shut and will the image away, but it’s still there, cemented in my mind. I rise and recognize what burst inside me. It was a bomb that just blew up Ryan’s life.
Chapter 18
Fortunately, on late-start days, the schedule is shuffled, so I don’t have to face Ryan after English. Still, I skulk in the halls and lean around corners to avoid running into him. I text Mari and tell her to meet me in the library right away at lunch. I need to tell her, to tell someone.
“What’s the hurry?” she asks as she approaches the table where I sit. She looks left and right. “And what’s with the table all the way in the corner?”
As the words are about to come out of my mouth, I realize that once I tell even one person, I no longer have control of this information. I don’t think Mari would say anything, but I can’t risk it. Ryan could find out somehow. “No hurry,” I say instead. “Sorry if I made it seem that way.”
“We’re going to miss the rally. What do you need from the library?” She still hasn’t taken off her backpack.
“I... uh... I need to... uh... finish some homework for my government class next period.” It’s all I can think to say.
Mari raises a suspicious eyebrow. “You always do your homework.”
“Yeah, but last night there was this thing with my grandma, and I didn’t get to it.”
“Okay...” She’s still skeptical. “But I certainly wouldn’t miss my boyfriend’s rally before the Finals for one homework assignment.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I blurt out.
She raises her hands. “Fine. Sorry.” She sits down, but I make her change seats because she’s in my line of sight to the door.
“So, what’s this important homework?” she asks after I’ve made no move toward my backpack.
“What? Oh yeah.” I unzip my backpack and take out a spiral notebook. I don’t actually have any government homework, so I open to a blank page.
Mari stares at my notebook. “So, um, what’s the homework?”
“I, we—” A tall dark-haired boy in a black Union High T-shirt walks inside. “Ihavetogofindabook,” I spit out and rush off, nearly tripping over my chair. I take cover in the aisle between two tall bookcases and wind my way through the other shelves to the front to get a better view of the boy who came in. I’m pretty sure the rally is happening now, but I can’t take any chances. I sneak around from the side and see the kid’s shirt has a water polo ball screen-printed on it. He’s not Ryan.
I have to come back with a book, so I wander through the shelves looking for something government-related. I see a book that says “Politics” in large lettering on the spine, so I grab it and walk back to our table.
“What is wrong with you?” Mari asks when I return.
“Nothing, why?” My intended breeziness comes out more like a boy going through puberty. I put the book on the table and lean over to grab a pen from my backpack.
When I sit up, Mari has slid the book in front of her. “Quotes from famous politicians? This is your homework?”
Oops. Not a great choice. “Uh, yeah. We have to find some quotes to support the arguments in our essay.”
“What’s the essay about?”
“It’s just about... like... government and politics and stuff.” The more she grills me, the worse I get. I’m a horrible liar. “Just let me get some quotes, then we can get out of here and go to the rally.”
“Okay.” Her stare lets me know that I haven’t fooled her. “I’m going to get a magazine.”
She wanders off, and I copy down meaningless quotes into my notebook, keeping one eye trained on the door like a sniper. My heart rate increases as the end of lunch draws closer. Mari eventually returns as a crowd of students enters the library. The rally is over. My writing slows as both eyes stare down the door. Moments later, Ryan walks through the door. I drop my pen and say, “Uh, I have to get another book. I’ll be right back.” Mari doesn’t even look up from her magazine.
I dive back into the bookshelves and weave around until I’m near the front of the library. The bathroom seems like my only choice, but to get there undetected, I must perform a near-army crawl through the low shelves. I make it inside and hide in the farthest stall. Ryan will probably see Mari and stay at our table until the end of lunch. So I wait them out. The bell rings, and even then, I linger until I’m sure they’ll be off to class.
When I return to our table, my stuff is still there, but Mari and Ryan are nowhere in sight. I grab my notebook to put it away. Mari has written, “What’s with you?” and circled it. I wish I could tell you. I zip my backpack and set off to earn my first tardy of the year.
By the end of the day, the mountain of lies I’m scaling and this secret I’m carrying around like a backpack full of concrete have worn me out. Even though I’m tired, I hardly sleep. I roll out of bed and take an early morning walk around the neighborhood with Grandma, but I’m still jittery like I’ve ingested a gallon of coffee. So I decide go on another long run. I don’t even care that it’s not good for me to do this two days in a row, especially when I have a race coming up. I put on my gear, and this time, I walk to the beach. Maybe I can find some answers in the extra miles.
I don’t, and when I get to the beach, my head is so clogged with Ryan’s dad and the Paris bridge and Finals and all the lies I’ve told during the past twenty-four hours, my legs won’t run properly. My mind is a malfunctioning switchboard that can’t fire off the correct commands. I slow to a walk and try to let the morning sun and rhythmic crash of the ocean waves clear my head. It seems to help until I approach the house that started this whole nightmare.
I consider speeding past it, ignoring it and pretending it doesn’t exist. But my feet stop, and my eyes lock on that sliding door. It’s like in that one crime drama my dad loved where they said they were sure to nab the killer because a killer will always return to the crime scene. I can’t tear myself away. I move to the side and lean against the wall separating the beach from the path. Even though it was dark yesterday morning, there’s no mistaking this is the house.
In the daylight, I can see and feel its magnitude. A flower bed with deep red and purple flowers lines the wall all the way around the property. It’s on the corner of a walk street, so the patio wraps around to the side where there is a fire pit and patio furniture. It’s beautiful, but it doesn’t fit in with the modern architecture and Italian-style houses surrounding it. The white trim and white railings against the light gray paint remind me more of the east coast beach houses we saw on vacations when I was little.
I step closer, searching for signs of life inside. I want to see this tall brunette bomb that could destroy Ryan’s life. I want to study her and try to figure out how I could have seen what I saw yesterday morning. But there’s no movement. In fact, the house looks as unnoticeabl
e as it has every other Saturday I’ve run past it.
In the next breath, a spark of anger replaces my curiosity. I should never have seen this. White body bags fan the flames inside me. If it weren’t for the stupid terrorists, I wouldn’t have been sleepless on a Thursday night and wouldn’t have needed to go out for a run. Running brings more flames. If I never started running, I would have never been out that early. I would have been tucked away in bed or binge-eating cookies like normal people do instead of out in the 5:00 a.m. shadows. But really, it’s my mom’s fault. The fire is out of control now. Why couldn’t she have had another goal? Why couldn’t she have been one of those moms who played tennis or sat around doing crafts all day? I could have been safe at home decorating mason jars at 5:00 a.m. Or why didn’t she have a job that kept her so busy she didn’t have any dreams?
That shouldn’t even matter, though, because my mom should still be here with or without dreams. My thoughts spiral out of control as the wildfire rages inside of me. My head swirls, and thoughts of Connor’s insistence at going to that minor league game and one red light that may or may not have saved their lives and my stupid idea to come to California crackle and snap like burning branches. I pick up a tiny rock—the only one I can find—and hurl it in the direction of the house.
Everything is ruined.
I had finally pieced myself together just a little. I should be excited for Ryan and planning for tonight’s game with Mari. I should be worried about things like prom and what to get Ryan for his birthday. Instead, I’m strapped to a ticking time bomb and wondering how I’m going to keep from blowing up someone’s whole world or having my own obliterated. Again.
I take one last look at the house, and I turn around and walk back. Tick. Tick. Tick. All the way home. There’s no way I can go to the Finals and risk facing Ryan or his parents. I’ll have to think up yet another lie.
Ryan isn’t very happy that I miss the Finals, especially because they won. I told him Grandma had one of her spells and I couldn’t get away. I told the same lie to Mari. She actually went by herself anyway. I think she’s started to enjoy being more involved at school.
Ryan’s anger doesn’t last long, though, because he knows how important my grandma is to me, and he’s experienced one of her spells firsthand. All this does is make me feel worse. To atone for my lie, I resolve to pretend I don’t know anything at all, and I invite him to the movies on Sunday night, my treat. As his fingers gently interlace with mine in the darkened theater, I nearly tell him everything. But my guilt re-erects its barrier when I realize it would only be to lessen my own suffering. The night ends with an open-eyes kiss that sends me slithering out of his car.
So I return to avoiding Ryan, and I convince myself it’s best if we go our separate ways. I’ll be back in Ohio, hopefully, next year anyway. At school, I alternate racing out of English class with lingering to clarify homework with Ms. Novak. My lunch location is equally as erratic—the library, counseling office for fake counseling, teachers’ classrooms for help I don’t need, wandering the halls. I’ve ditched Mari so much that she doesn’t even try to find me anymore. She sits at our usual spot and texts me that she’s there and I can show up if I want. It’s just as well that I’m on my own because I’ve told so many lies, I can’t even remember all of them.
Out of school, it’s been a bit more challenging. I take on more shifts at the animal shelter during the week to avoid Ryan after school. Now that basketball is over, he has a lot more free time. I snooped around at work and found his weekend schedule, so I requested the opposite days. Last weekend when he came to work on Saturday, I suggested to Lynn that the filing really needed to get done and spent the whole day in the office. I feel awful, and I miss Ryan, but I can’t blow up his world. And I don’t know how to pretend not to know what I know.
After two weeks of this, I’m no longer the artful dodger, and Ryan finds me in the hall at lunch on Friday.
“Loukas!” I hear him call from behind as I lurk in the science wing. I slow to a stop but don’t turn around.
“Hey.” He’s out of breath when he catches up to me.
“Hey.” I plaster on a smile.
“Finally,” he exhales. “It feels like we’ve just been texting and I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Yeah, I’ve gotten slammed on a few things,” I say to the ground. I don’t dare look at him.
He lifts my chin with his fingertip. “Is everything okay?” His bright blue beautiful eyes search my face for answers I wish I could give.
“Yeah. I’m just busy.” I shake my chin loose from his touch and broaden my fake smile.
“Okay.” He grabs my hands and interlaces his fingers with mine. “Remember, my birthday dinner is tonight. The secret got out,” he laughs. “My mom is really excited you’re coming. Like overly excited.” He playfully rolls his eyes.
I pull my hands back and let them dangle by my side. “Yeah, um, about that.” My heart pounds. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to go.”
He flinches as though I’ve punched him in the gut. “What? Why not?”
“It’s my grandma.” I give him one of the sad head tilts I despise.
“What? You can’t come for a little while?” His voice is laced with hurt.
I shake my head and stare off at a kid closing his locker down the hall.
“Is something going on, Emma?” He steps into my line of sight.
“What do you mean? No.” I dismiss his words with a wave of my hand.
“Are you mad at me? Or...” His voice halts. “... or sick of me or something?”
The hurt in his eyes pierces my heart. I’m anything but that. I don’t want to stop seeing him. I want to spend every minute with him. But I don’t know how. I don’t know how to see him and carry this huge secret. “No, what? That’s crazy.” I reach out and hold his arm awkwardly, trying to reassure him.
“Well then, I don’t get it. We’ve hardly seen each other, and now you won’t come to my birthday? I really wanted my girlfriend at my birthday dinner.”
One word. That’s all it takes for him to lasso me back in. I’m his girlfriend. My skin tingles and a cloud of glitter sparkles around me. “I know. You’re right. I’m just being stupid. Of course I’ll be there. I’ll work something out. Maybe one of my grandma’s friends can come over.”
His eyes brighten and soften. “Thanks. I really want you there.”
The bell rings. “I have to go. I can’t be late.” I lean in for an uneasy hug, wishing I could hold on and never let go.
My shaky hand rings the doorbell at Ryan’s house later that night. I smooth out my black dress and adjust my headband. Ryan answers, and I lose my breath for a moment. He’s dressed in khakis and a plaid button-down shirt, and his hair is still wet from the shower except for the messy part on top that has started to dry. He is beautiful like one of those catalog models who don’t even seem like real people. He hugs me, and I nearly trip in my high heels because his fresh, clean boy smell jumbles my mind.
He holds my hand and leads me inside to a cluster of adults lingering in an open space that is both the kitchen and the living room. Ryan introduces me to a slew of aunts, uncles, and cousins, and to his grandparents. I smile and answer their questions while one eye looks out for Ryan’s dad. Ryan leaves me momentarily to get us drinks, but I’m deep in conversation with his cousin who went to Xavier so I don’t mind.
After an hour or so, I’m starting to think that Ryan’s dad isn’t even here. My muscles relax a little, and I even genuinely laugh at a childhood story Ryan’s grandmother tells me about him. But soon his dad appears in the kitchen with Ryan’s mom. He sneaks up from behind and wraps his arms around her. Both their heads fall back in laughter, and she kisses him on the cheek. I wonder if maybe this whole thing is just a figment of my imagination. Maybe I saw it wrong.
Soon we’re seated for dinner around the large dining room table. As luck would have it, I’m placed on the corner between Ryan and his
dad at the head of the table. I sit rigid in my seat and manage to swallow a few bites of beef and a few spears of asparagus. I’m forced to pass the prime rib to Ryan’s dad, and he avoids eye contact. He utters only a handful of words throughout the meal, and I’m sure now that what I saw was real. After cake and ice cream, I tell Ryan I have to get back to my grandma. I thank his mom, and she engulfs me in a hug that seems to last forever. Ryan’s dad is nowhere to be seen.
“Thanks for coming,” Ryan says to me at the door of my car.
“Yeah, it was fun,” I say and fumble to find my keys in my purse. I get the door unlocked and open it, sort of pushing Ryan to the side. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
“Sure.” Ryan leans in, but I’ve already started to get into the car. I freeze, and his kiss lands on my cheek.
I get in the car and shut the door. It’s only when I’m halfway down his street that I realize I didn’t even wish him a happy birthday.
Chapter 19
No matter how hard I try, I can’t quit Ryan. My life without him is a party with no music or a beach with no sun. Okay, but not spectacular like it could be. So I force myself to pretend I know nothing. I start by apologizing for my birthday blunder and treat him to a belated birthday dinner and laser tag, his choices. I’m successful for about two days. The problem with knowing something is that you can’t un-know it. So slowly, the barrier rises, and I’m back to being a half girlfriend at best.
The Brilliance of Fireflies Page 16