by Jay Asher
9://Emma
I’M COMPLETELY DISTRACTED in band. After I miss my cue for the fourth time, Mr. Markowitz points his baton at the horn section and says, “How about everyone take a five-minute break? Flutes, come see me to talk about solos.”
I glance toward percussion, but Graham isn’t here yet. Sometimes he gets held up meeting with the swim coach, which is fine by me. I’m still dreading seeing him. I set my instrument on my seat and head to the water fountain. As I lean over the arc of water, I think about what happened on my computer. It all seems less real today, especially the part about Josh marrying Sydney Mills. That’s like matching me with Leonardo DiCaprio.
“Guess who?” Graham covers my eyes with one hand and wraps the other around my waist.
I wipe my mouth and then turn to face him. As soon as I do, my breath catches. He shaved off his hair! All that beautiful blond hair is gone, and now his scalp is prickly and pale.
“What did you do?” I ask.
He grins and rubs his hands over his head. “Greg and Matt came over after Ultimate Frisbee and we buzzed our heads. Do you like it?”
All I can do is stare.
“Admit it,” Graham says, lacing his fingers into mine. “You want to run your hands over my big, smooth head.”
I’m not in the mood for this. When he presses against me, I back away.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say.
Neither of us says anything more. Sometimes it feels like if it weren’t for making out, we’d have nothing to do with each other.
“IT’S TIME TO END it with Graham,” I say, looking into my paper lunch bag.
We’re in the cafeteria so Kellan can load up on her daily special, french fries and Sprite. Kellan is an inch shorter than me, with shiny black hair and perfect skin. And she can put away fries without gaining a pound.
“Weren’t you going to break up with him in the park yesterday?” she asks.
I smile at a few girls who walk by us. “I never ended up seeing him.”
“Well, what’s stopping you from doing it today?” Kellan pays the cashier and heads to the condiment station. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not stopping you.”
“Did you see his hair yet?”
Kellan shakes her head.
“It’s shaved,” I say. “He and Greg and the swim team guys did it yesterday. I swear, guys in groups are capable of the stupidest things.”
“Like war,” Kellan says, heaping napkins and ketchup packets onto her tray.
“And jumping off rooftops.”
“And lighting their farts on fire,” she says.
I laugh. “Do you know anyone who’s done that?”
“Tyson,” she says. “Next to the Dumpster behind GoodTimez, while you were visiting your dad last winter.”
Tyson’s father owns GoodTimez Pizza, a restaurant that specializes in birthday parties and cheesy deep-dish pies. Because of the arcade and the prime parking-lot skating, Josh and Tyson spend many hours there.
“Was Josh with him?” I ask.
Kellan considers it for a moment. “Actually, he filmed it. But he didn’t light anything.”
“Good. Because I would never let him forget that.”
As we push through the side doors of the cafeteria, Kellan asks, “So how does Graham look without his golden tresses?”
“Truthfully, his hair was the only thing that made him hot,” I say. “Now he looks like a peach lollipop.”
It’s sunny outside, even warmer than yesterday. We start across the campus to our usual lunch spot, and I turn to Kellan. “Can I ask you a physics question?”
Her face brightens at the mention of physics. She’s currently taking physics at Hemlock State on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. It’s part of the same enrichment program that she tried to get me to apply to, so we could take college biology next fall.
I shift my paper bag to the other hand and say, as casually as possible, “What do scientists think about time travel?”
She lifts her tray up to her chin and pinches a fry with her teeth. “Why?”
“I’m just curious,” I say. “Back to the Future was on cable last night.”
Kellan pauses in front of a muddy patch in the grass and launches into an explanation of time dilation and special relativity. I try to follow, but I get lost somewhere around wormholes.
“Nothing’s proven,” Kellan says. “But nothing’s ruled out, either. My personal opinion is that it’s possible, but I wouldn’t want to do it.”
“Why not?”
She shrugs. “The past is over. We can read about it in history books. And what if in the future we’re at war again, or we still haven’t elected a non-white or non-male president, or the Rolling Stones are still dragging their tired old butts on stage? That would depress me way too much.”
“I hope the future’s better than now,” I say, though I’m not sure it will be.
“You know that cute guy I told you about in my physics class?” Kellan asks. “I ran into him downtown yesterday. Seriously, Emma, you’ve got to take biology with me there. You won’t believe the guys at Hemlock. They’re men.”
“So you’re saying I should take college bio for the guys?”
Kellan shakes her head. “You should take college biology because you’re smart and there aren’t enough women working in science. But you and I can help change that. The guys are the icing on the cake.”
“Maybe,” I say, but I’m more concerned with what Kellan said about time travel. If it was definitely not possible, she would have told me. But that’s not what she said.
“Besides improving the gender ratio in science,” Kellan says, “I want you to fall in love before we graduate. That’s a personal goal of mine.”
“You know how I feel about love,” I say. “It was invented to sell wedding cakes. And vacations to Waikiki.”
“My parents have been in love for nineteen years,” Kellan says. “And look at Tyson and me. We were probably the two most—”
“He broke your heart! How can you call it love when he hurt you so badly?”
Kellan pops another fry into her mouth. “It was love because it was worth it.”
10://Josh
I’M THE FIRST ONE to the oak tree, our usual lunch spot at the far end of the campus. I set my lunch bag at my feet, pull my sweatshirt over my head, and cram it into my backpack. Then I prop it behind me as a cushion against the tree.
My peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are squished after spending hours buried in my backpack. But I’m not tasting much today. All of Emma’s talk about that website has me nervous about Peer Issues, my last class of the day. It’ll be impossible to look at Sydney Mills without visualizing her emerging from the warm Hawaiian ocean in a skimpy bikini.
That’s not the kind of thing you tease a guy with!
Sydney Mills and I are in completely different orbits. She’s a Mercury, with the full hotness of the sun beating down on her. I’m a Pluto. Sure, my friends appreciate me, but I’m barely holding on to the far reaches of the galaxy.
“Incoming!”
A Subway sandwich shoots through the air, smacking the ground near my feet. Every day, Tyson tosses his lunch like a bomb, though I’ve never understood why. Kellan says it’s because his dad raised him without a female around to civilize him.
“You’re a dork,” I say.
“Have you seen her yet?” Tyson asks, tearing through his plastic bag.
My heart races. Did Emma tell him about Sydney?
“I know she’s been talking crap behind my back,” he continues. “When she’s around me, she acts all cool. But when I’m not around—”
He’s talking about Kellan. “No, I haven’t seen her.”
Tyson and Kellan are such opposites that Emma and I never imagined they’d get together. The four of us have always hung out, but last July, an intense flirtation sprouted out of nowhere. They kept it up for the rest of the summer, but on the
first day of school Tyson called it off. Then they got back together, but eventually Tyson dumped her again. They were like two magnets who couldn’t decide whether to attract or repel. After the last break up, Kellan was so crushed she didn’t come to school for two weeks. Yet somehow, bizarrely, we all remain friends.
“She’s never said anything bad to me,” I say, reaching in for my second sandwich.
Tyson pulls a slice of turkey out of his sub and pops it in his mouth. “That’s because she knows you’ll tell me.”
I spot Emma and Kellan walking toward us, their heads leaning in close.
“See,” Tyson says. “They’re talking about me.”
The girls smile as they get closer, and then sit down. Kellan squeezes ketchup over her fries while Emma peels back the lid of her Tupperware.
“Aloha,” Emma says, grinning mischievously at me. She stabs a cucumber slice with her plastic fork. “Have you seen her yet?”
“Seen who?” Kellan asks.
“Apparently Josh has a crush on Sydney Mills,” Emma says.
Why is she doing this?
“Who doesn’t?” Tyson says, his mouth churning with turkey and cheese.
“I never said I have a crush on her,” I say.
Kellan glares at Tyson. “Everyone has a crush on her? Really? That is so cliché. Sydney Mills is a skanky rich bitch.”
“Guys, chill,” Emma says. “I wasn’t trying to start anything.”
“I don’t even know her,” I say. “I know who she is, but I wouldn’t—”
Tyson ignores me and looks at Kellan. “Yes, Miss Judgmental, I absolutely have a crush on Sydney Mills. In case you haven’t noticed, she’s hot.”
“Only if you like skank,” Kellan says. She drops a straw in her Sprite and takes a long sip.
Emma catches my eye and mouths that she’s very sorry.
I bite into my sandwich, pretending not to care. After all, that website is just a prank.
I WALK PAST the open door of Peer Issues and glance anxiously inside. Sydney Mills isn’t here yet.
I go straight to my seat. My fingertips drum against my desktop while students pour through the doorway. Each time someone enters, my hands and my heart beat faster.
Rebecca Alvarez walks in and I give her a quick smile. Rebecca and I went out for five months our freshman year, my longest relationship ever. We still talk at school sometimes, but never on the phone or anything.
From her seat across the room, Rebecca mouths, Why are you staring?
I turn back to the door. And there’s Sydney!
I grip the sides of my desk, unable to look away. Her chestnut brown hair flows over her shoulders and down her back. A green knit sweater hugs her chest, the top two buttons left open. She wears a gold necklace dotted with tiny diamonds. She moves up my aisle, sliding her cell phone into a pocket of her tight jeans. My palms sweat just watching her.
Sydney looks at me and it feels like she might smile, but then she lifts her eyebrows. My face must be rearranged into something goofy.
After she passes, a backdraft of coconut floats by my nose, snipping the threads holding my heart in my chest.
TYSON AND I set our skateboards on the lowest bleacher facing the track. I suck down a cherry Slurpee while Tyson freezes his brain on blue raspberry. The cardboard pizza box at our feet is now empty. Because Tyson’s dad owns GoodTimez, we get all the pizza we want for free. In exchange, sometimes I help with the birthday parties, which can mean anything from monitoring the ball pit to dressing as a smiling slice of pizza and handing out goodie bags.
Last year, Tyson and I brought pizza to every home meet. We never paid much attention to the events, but it meant a lot to Emma knowing we were there. When the first meet came around this year, I told Tyson I had too much homework. At the next meet, I said I had to help my dad clean the gutters. Eventually Tyson stopped asking. But today I need to make sure Emma drives me home after the meet and shows me what she saw on that website.
The team walks out to the field. Tyson and I shout, “Go, Emma!” Once she waves, we grab our skateboards and head to the parking lot. Next to the bike racks are two parking spaces with a couple of loose concrete blocks. Tyson grabs one end of a block, and I grab the other.
“Lift!” I say.
We drag both blocks, one after the other, to the center of a parking space, and then Tyson pulls a chunk of Sex Wax from his backpack and tosses it to me. Surfers use this to keep their feet from slipping off their boards, but skaters love it, too. Especially Tyson, who laughs at the name every time we use it. I rub the sticky wax across the top of both blocks and then step back. Tyson lands his board sideways and slides the entire length, then skates to the next block and grinds across it on his trucks.
“Speaking of Sex Wax,” Tyson says, grinning, “are you really thinking of asking out Sydney Mills?”
I walk my board a few feet out of the parking space and set it down. “I don’t know why Emma brought that up.”
I skate up to the first block and grind its length with only my rear truck. On the next I try a nosegrind, but I can’t keep up the momentum.
“You have Peer Issues with her, right?” Tyson asks.
“With Sydney Mills? Why?”
Tyson pushes his board a few feet ahead, jogs after it, and then jumps on. “So when you talk about sexual issues, you’ve probably heard her say ‘vagina.’”
I laugh. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He skates up to the block and stops. “It’s cute when girls use proper words like that.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I say, kicking my board into my hand, “but I’ve never heard her say ‘vagina.’”
Tyson raises his eyebrows suggestively. “Maybe you would if you asked her out.”
On the track, someone must’ve crossed the finish line because the crowd on the bleachers applauds.
11://Emma
CODY SET A SCHOOL RECORD in the hundred-yard dash today, leading the Lake Forest Cheetahs to victory. I, on the other hand, placed fourth in the sixteen hundred and was the second slowest leg of my relay. I’m usually a stronger link, but I’m going on practically no sleep, and my brain is scattered. Before last night I’d never heard of Jordan Jones Jr., and suddenly I’m in a bad marriage to him.
It made me feel better to see Josh and Tyson in the stands, clapping and waving as we took the field. I know they don’t actually stay to watch the meets, but I’m still glad they came. They’re probably skating over those concrete blocks in the parking lot.
The meet is over and the visiting team is heading toward their buses. I’m sitting on the grass, sipping Gatorade and watching Cody chat with a girl from the other team. She’s tall and tan and they’re standing close, laughing and touching each other’s arms. I wonder if they’ve ever hooked up, or if that’s coming soon. The word on the team is that Cody can be quite the stud.
I personally have never had sex. It’s not like I’m waiting for love because who knows if that will ever happen, but it always felt like I would be giving too much of myself to a guy. Like Graham. I definitely wouldn’t want him to be the one I lose my virginity to. Cody, though, is in a different category. If he and I ever got together, I can imagine myself not wanting to stop. The guy is seriously gorgeous.
“Is the meet over?” Graham asks, plopping down next to me. He has on the blue gym shorts and white T-shirt he always wears when he goes to the weight room. And he’s sweaty, which makes his newly shorn head shiny and slick.
“It just ended,” I say. I stretch my legs in front of me and lean forward until my forehead touches my knees. “We won.”
“You’re very flexible,” he says. “It could give a guy some ideas.”
Maybe he caught me in the wrong mood, but I sit up and snap at him. “Why do you always go there?”
“Where?”
“You know where.”
Graham shrugs. “Hey, my buddies are hanging out on the baseball diamond. Do you want to go?”
I look around for Josh and Tyson, hoping they’ll rescue me. Josh and I didn’t make specific plans, but I figured we’d meet up here and drive home to check out my computer.
I look over at Cody again. He’s still with that girl, but now he’s jotting something in a notebook. He tears out a page and hands it to her. She smiles and hugs him goodbye, her hand lingering on the small of his back. They are definitely going to have sex.
“Sure,” I say to Graham. I grab my gym bag and hoist myself to my feet. “Let’s go.”
GRAHAM’S FRIENDS ARE GONE by the time we get to the baseball field, so we settle on a wooden bench in the dugout. My head is resting in his lap and he’s running his fingers under my shirt, trying to reach up my jog bra. I keep swatting away his hand.
“I’m too sweaty,” I say.
“I don’t mind. You always look hot after your meets.”
I push his hand away again. I’m wearing my orange mesh tank top with the cheetah on the front, and my black shorts. They’re faded and wrinkled from years of Cheetah girls before me.
Nothing about me feels sexy right now. Maybe I’m just tired from last night. Or maybe it’s because I can’t stop thinking about Emma Nelson Jones, and whether I really become an unhappy person with a husband who doesn’t come home.
Graham runs his hand back under my shirt. “You have an awesome stomach. Your belly button is so sexy.”
Maybe this is the best it gets.
This time, when Graham’s fingers touch my bra, I don’t push him away. I sit up and lean into him and we start kissing. His hand slides beneath my bra, and I turn to make sure no one can see us.
That’s when I notice Josh. He’s standing frozen near second base. I pull back from Graham and tug down on my top, but Josh is already sprinting away.
12://Josh
IT’S ALL TYSON’S FAULT! He went on and on about Sydney Mills, which made me want to hurry up and get back to Emma’s computer. So I left my board with Tyson and went to find Emma. She wasn’t on the track, but Ruby Jenkins told me she saw Emma heading toward the baseball fields.