Winter Longing

by Tricia Mills

  I saw Patrice walking toward us with her minion, Skyler Thornby. I couldn’t get to Lindsay before Patrice, to drag her away from whatever Patrice was up to. Ever since the day she’d given me the narrow-eyed look in the hallway when I’d been talking to Jesse, I’d been avoiding her as much as possible.

  But as I prepared to jump to Lindsay’s defense, Patrice walked by, giving Lindsay’s arm a gentle squeeze. Lindsay looked surprised. It was only a moment, however, before Patrice gave me the same ugly look she usually kept under wraps. It had definitely never been seen by adults. How she’d kept the not-so-nice part of herself hidden in Tundra, I’d never figure out. Maybe she’d made a deal with the devil.

  “What?” I asked, more aggressively than I’d intended. I was tired of her.

  She glanced around the hallway before taking a step closer and narrowing her eyes. But she didn’t speak in a low voice as I’d expected. “You think you’re suddenly something since Jesse noticed you, don’t you?”

  Shock slammed into me. What did she know? How did she know it? How could she have even expected?

  Damn, this was Tundra. Why did I even ask those questions?

  “We’re just friends.” I ignored the tug inside me that insisted we could be more if I only let it happen.

  “Good. Because when I decide I want him back, I’ll be able to get him like this.” Patrice snapped her fingers in front of my face. I resisted the violent temptation to grab them and bend them backward until she begged for mercy. For taunting me. And for betraying Jesse. Patrice was used to getting whatever and whomever she wanted and enjoying the kudos of parents and teachers in the process. I suddenly and fervently hated her.

  But what had the gesture of support to Lindsay been about? They certainly weren’t in the same social circle, and that small act of kindness was so at odds with the angry queen bee in front of me.

  Lindsay stepped forward, edging between Patrice and me. Despite the hint of kindness Patrice had shown her, I was still her best friend—she’d defend me, just as I would her.

  Some new emotion flitted across Patrice’s face, oddly like hurt. But she backed off and gestured for Skyler to follow her down the corridor.

  “Sheesh,” Lindsay said. “Someone needs to tell those two they’re living in Tundra, Alaska—not Upper East Side, New York.”

  “I feel like—I don’t know—something’s going on with her.”

  “Yeah, she’s insecure.”

  We retrieved our books for first period and headed to our own classes. Maybe it was my imagination, but the gossip seemed to have turned in my direction now. I could sew Patrice’s lips together for mentioning Jesse and me in the same sentence. I didn’t know how I felt about Jesse, or if I would ever act on it, so the last thing I needed was the whole school gossiping about it.

  For now at least, we were friends. Nothing else, just like I’d told Patrice.

  I kept telling myself that as I walked into lunch three hours later and sat with Lindsay in our spot. I tried not to feel disappointed when Jesse sat in his. What was wrong with me? I was the one who’d pulled away from him when I’d thought he might kiss me.

  Did everyone filing into the cafeteria think I could forget Spencer so easily? Was he already a distant memory to them? I stared down at my hamburger, wishing things could just go back to the way they’d been the day before Labor Day. Spencer and I would be together and happy. Jesse would just be the next-door neighbor I was forced to acknowledge only when we crossed paths. Patrice would be so far off my radar I’d barely even be thinking about her.

  But things couldn’t go back, and I had no idea how I wanted them to go forward.

  “What do you think he ever saw in Patrice? ” Lindsay nodded in Jesse’s direction.

  I shrugged. “He’s a guy, and she’s beautiful. Been happening for millennia.”

  “I would have given him more credit than that.”

  I finished eating the french fry I’d shoved in my mouth. “Really? ”

  “Yeah. He gets big points for coming over to check on you last night.”

  I looked outside at the snowflakes as I replayed the previous evening. The conversation with Jesse, the near kiss, and his look of genuine concern when he’d shown up at the door. If I let go of my sorrow over Spencer, I got the feeling it’d be very easy to fall for Jesse.

  When some of Lindsay’s basketball team came over to discuss that night’s game against Dillingham, I let my gaze drift to Jesse. Today, he was wearing a light-green shirt that complemented his dark hair and eyes. Why had I never really noticed how incredibly good-looking he was before? Was it simply because I’d only had eyes for Spencer, or was Jesse more attractive now that I knew more about who he really was?

  So he’d gone out with Patrice. So what? We all made mistakes. And maybe, as much as it pained me to admit it, she had a good side that wasn’t fake. I nearly gagged even contemplating it, but stranger things had happened. And I couldn’t discount what I’d seen earlier that morning. Something about Patrice’s kind gesture toward Lindsay nagged at me, but I couldn’t pinpoint why.

  Part of the conversation from their table met my ears, something about Jesse’s party on Saturday. Patrice might have thought she was steering me out of the way with her little accusations, but they’d only fueled my decision to go. If for no other reason than to spite her.

  I realized there was nothing worth much in the way of birthday gifts for teenage guys in Tundra, and it was too late to order something. Unless . . .

  “Hey, I’ll catch you all later. Got to run to the ladies’,” I said to Lindsay and the other girls.

  When I reached the hall, however, I walked past the restroom and found a quiet spot on the bleachers in the gym. I dialed Mom’s cell number.

  “Hey, honey, is something wrong?” she asked.

  “No.” I was surprised someone hadn’t told her about Lindsay already. “I need you to pick something up for me while you’re in Anchorage.”

  “Okay.”

  “Jesse invited me to his birthday party on Saturday, so I was thinking maybe a Canucks shirt.” I tried to sound casual, as if deciding on my own to go to a party, and a guy’s party at that, was no big deal.

  Either it worked, or she was wise enough not to comment. “Got it. I’ll add it to the list. See you tonight.”

  When I hung up, I sat in the quiet of the gym and wondered when the fact that Vancouver was Jesse’s favorite hockey team had sunk into my brain. Well, it was, so maybe he’d like the present more than something I could buy at Shaggy’s Trading Post.

  I smiled. “Take that, Patrice!”

  “Why love if losing hurts so much? We love to know that we are not alone.”

  —C. S. Lewis, Quote-a-Day calendar

  CHAPTER 23

  Despite my determination to go to the party a few days earlier, by Saturday, I’d started second-guessing the decision.

  “If I go, it’ll just add fuel to Patrice’s accusations,” I said as Lindsay and I ate the French toast Mom had made us. Not to mention, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should steer as far away from Jesse as possible. Something was happening, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.

  “Who gives a flying caribou turd what she thinks,” she said.

  My inner questioning disappeared as I snorted and choked on my syrupy bite. When I managed to swallow, I took a different approach.

  “It’s not really my crowd anyway, and I don’t want to go without you.”

  “I’m working today. Plus, I’m not the one birthday boy sat with for two hours the other night.”

  “Do you have to keep bringing that up?”

  “Yes.”

  For a moment, it felt like old times. But then I saw her bruised cheek and remembered the dream that had woken me that morning. In it, I’d been standing in the fog, waiting for an approaching plane to land. I’d known it was Spencer, coming back safe and sound. The plane they’d found on the mountain hadn’t been his after all. But when the plane h
ad emerged from the thick, gray, low clouds, I could see Spencer’s skeleton in the pilot’s seat.

  I’d jerked awake only to realize that a real plane had taken off from the airstrip and was flying over our house. Luckily, Lindsay had been in the bathroom, so I didn’t have to go into an explanation for my abrupt awakening.

  Mom walked into the kitchen and placed a gift-wrapped box on the table next to me. “Here’s the shirt. I had them gift wrap it for you.” Because I am horrendous at wrapping gifts. It’s like my IQ suddenly plummeted when I had to figure out how much paper a certain box would require and how best to fold it at the edges. “Oh, and I had to get a jersey, because I couldn’t find a tee.”

  Yikes, jerseys weren’t cheap. Was it too big a gift to give him? No chance to change it now.

  Lindsay waited until Mom left the room again before she gave me a curious grin. “You had your mom bring him a present all the way from Anchorage?”

  “What was I supposed to get him, thermals from Shaggy’s?”

  The present, wrapped in its dark-blue-and-yellow-striped paper, guilted me into going to the party. Lindsay hated that she had to go to work and couldn’t help me get ready, but secretly I was glad. There was no way I was going to dress up and primp in hopes that Jesse Kerr would notice. Especially not when that morning’s dream still lingered in my room like a ghost, shaming me.

  But that dream also helped me make the decision to go. I needed to get out of the house, forget. So after pulling on jeans and a red turtleneck and pulling my hair into a low ponytail, I headed next door.

  My procrastinating meant the party was already in full swing when I arrived. I placed the present on the table with the rest, then wandered through the crowd. Everyone was playing Guitar Hero on the big screen, eating nachos, and sitting around talking in groups.

  “Hey,” Monica said as she popped in from the garage. “Want something to drink?”

  “Sure.” I followed Monica into the kitchen. I grabbed a Coke and one of the now-familiar brownies.

  “Come on,” Monica said. “Jesse’s smoking everyone at air hockey.”

  I followed her toward the sound of music cranked in the garage. A dart game between Monica’s brother Charlie and Alex Mifflin was going on in one corner of the garage. I looked away, suddenly embarrassed by the memory of how close Jesse had stood while giving me dart pointers.

  In the other corner, Jesse and Drew Chernov were bent over the air-hockey table, their faces intent at slamming the puck back and forth. As if these two didn’t get enough hockey already.

  Jesse made a fast move and sank the puck in Drew’s end of the table.

  “Damn it!” Drew slapped the edge of the table.

  Jesse raised his arms and gave an evil-mastermind laugh. “Is there no one who can challenge me?”

  I saw a spark of annoyance in Drew’s eyes. Sore loser.

  “You’ve played everyone,” Drew said.

  “Not Winter,” Monica, beside me, said.

  I stared at her with embarrassment—I hated being in the spotlight. Only when Drew gave a derisive snort did I find myself heading toward the table. Only when I’d grasped the pusher did I meet Jesse’s eyes.

  “Hey,” he said. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Wait until after the game to say that.” I had no idea where that attitude came from, but it won me a few hoots from the crowd.

  Jesse smiled, and the beauty of it hit me with unexpected force. I knew I was in danger of embarrassing myself. He placed the puck in front of his pusher. “Game on, then.”

  I’d played air hockey before, but it’d been a few years, so I was surprised by how well I did. In fact, I scored first.

  “Oohhhh!” the guys in the room, almost all members of the Tundra/Jasperton team, said in unison.

  I couldn’t help the smile that stretched my lips. It felt foreign, but nice. I still wasn’t used to smiling again.

  “Ah, I see I underestimated you,” Jesse said.

  The beat of the music and the desire to shove one of the pucks down Drew’s throat drove me, and I scored again. Of course, then Jesse tied it up within thirty seconds.

  The slap back and forth got faster and faster, the ribbing of Jesse by his teammates louder each time I sank a puck.

  I had no idea how much time had elapsed, but when I sank the final puck to win, I jumped up and actually screamed. That’s when I noticed the garage was a lot fuller than when we’d begun. It looked like everyone in the house had filed in to watch our game.

  I placed my pusher on the table just as Brenda called from the other room: “Pizza’s here!”

  As people started vacating the room in search of gooey cheese and zesty pepperoni, Jesse sat his own pusher on the table. “You’re a shark,” he said, then laughed.

  “Too bad we weren’t playing for money.”

  Like everyone else, I grabbed my pizza and milled about, talking.

  Soon after we finished the pizza, someone tossed Jesse one of his presents.

  Ten minutes into the unwrapping, I felt like I was going to pass out. Every package revealed something I hadn’t bought for Jesse—a gag gift. In light of Grocery Checker Barbie and the homemade Guide to Tundra Nightlife—the cover of which was illustrated with a pole-dancing, lipstick-wearing moose in high highs—my present was too much, especially since Mom hadn’t purchased a simple tee. Suddenly, the Canucks jersey seemed like a gift a girlfriend would give. At the very least, I didn’t want him to open it in front of everyone camped out in his living room.

  But it was too late. The gift was already in the pile, wedged between others. There was no way I could surreptitiously snatch it and run.

  As the gifts dwindled, I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t watch the reactions of my classmates, but I was on the wrong side of the room to escape. Roughly a quarter of Tundra’s high school students stood between the door and me. Left with little option, I eased my way up the stairs and hid in the bathroom. I’d go back downstairs when I was sure all the presents had been opened and everyone was back to partying. Then I could slip out the door with little notice and continue hiding at my house.

  I must have been a pathetic image, sitting there on the closed toilet, trying to estimate how long it would take Jesse to open the remaining presents. Timing was crucial. Why had I allowed myself to think coming to this party was a good idea? It clearly wasn’t. This had to be my punishment. I was already dreading Patrice’s reaction when she found out what I’d given Jesse.

  The minutes stretched like an unbreakable rubber band, but eventually the music level went up. I stood, taking a deep breath and preparing my escape.

  I eased out of the bathroom and started down the hallway. That’s when I heard the voices. Curious, I inched closer to a bedroom door, which was partially cracked.

  Patrice stood in Jesse’s room with her shirt unbuttoned and running her hands up his chest. Jesse noticed me, but I quickly averted my eyes. That’s when I saw the blue, green, and white of the Canucks jersey thrown on his bed.

  “Excuse me,” I said as calmly as possibly, confused by how upset I was. I walked at a normal pace down the rest of the short hallway, ignoring the “Wait!” Jesse had called out. I was afraid he’d seen the disappointment in my eyes and taken it the wrong way. It was his business whom he dated, though I thought he could do better than Patrice. That was the root of my disappointment. It wasn’t that I liked him. Because I didn’t!

  The twisting of my heart and the pounding in my head threatened to convince me I was lying to myself.

  I quickened my stride, but it still took centuries to reach the stairs. When I did reach them, I hurried toward the door. My brain was functioning enough for me to grab my coat before I headed out into the cold. I had to get away. I didn’t belong here.

  Patrice had won. She’d snapped her fingers and gotten Jesse back, just like she’d predicted. And I had to convince myself I didn’t care. After all, why should I care?

  Enough of my common sense
remained that I didn’t run. That would just instigate even more gossip. I wondered if Mom and Dad would consider sending me away to boarding school for the rest of my senior year.

  The decision not to run came back to bite me in the butt when Jesse caught up with me. I had just stepped onto my front porch and was beating the snow off the bottom of my shoes.

  “Hey!”

  I let any emotion fall from my face before I turned toward him. “You’re not wearing a coat.”

  “I was in a hurry,” he said. Then, after a beat: “That wasn’t what you thought.”

  “What wasn’t?”

  “Don’t play dumb, Winter.”

  “You and Patrice making out? Jesse, seriously, that’s none of my business.”

  He frowned. “We weren’t making out.”

  I couldn’t help it; I raised my eyebrows.

  “We weren’t,” he insisted. “She showed up—uninvited I might add—wanting to get back together. But I don’t want to. And she doesn’t, either—not for me anyway. It’s a control thing with her. She likes to get whatever she wants.”

  I shoved my ungloved hands into my pockets. “She has a pretty good track record of getting exactly that.”

  “Not this time.” The intensity in his dark eyes made me want to believe him. I just didn’t know if I could, or whether I should care one way or the other.

  “Why did you date her?”

  He sighed and looked up at the sky. “Will you think I’m a creep if I say because she’s pretty? At least at first. That, and the fact that our parents are good friends; they kind of pressured us together.” He lowered his gaze back to mine and shrugged. “She’s not all bad. She’s capable of showing genuine caring sometimes, but . . .” He hesitated, shifted as he looked back toward his house. “I’m not saying this excuses her behavior, because it doesn’t, but her parents put a crazy amount of pressure on her.”

  “Please don’t tell me the poor-little-rich-girl story.”

  He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Even if it’s partially true?”

  I stared, then finally shrugged.