The Best Possible Answer

by E. Katherine Kottaras

  “You don’t want to talk?”

  I do, I think. Desperately. And I feel like Evan’s someone who could listen, who could ask the right questions, who maybe even understands.

  He moves closer to me. “I’d really like to get to know you better.” He places his hand on my forearm, and my promise to Sammie floods back, along with the dizziness and nausea.

  I pull my arm back, shake my head, and try for something cold instead: “I don’t need you to save me. Thanks, though.” I start to climb up the ladder. My clothes, heavy with water, feel like they’re trying to pull me back into the pool.

  “Oh God. I’m sorry. I never said I was here to save you.”

  I turn around. “Isn’t this part of your job? Saving flailing victims from drowning? Do I look like I’m that pathetic?”

  He doesn’t answer at first. Instead, he just sort of stares at me, stunned, like I’m not making any sense. Probably because I’m not.

  “Seriously, Viviana. I just wanted to see if you’re okay,” he says, finally. He climbs up to the top rung. “Look. I just have to say it. I like you. I do. And I’m here for you, if you need anything. Is that the worst thing in the world?”

  Yes, I think. For so many reasons, it really, really is.

  But I don’t say this. I don’t say anything. Instead, I leave him there in the water and head out of the pool and back upstairs, the complete, dripping mess that I am.

  * * *

  Thankfully, Sammie doesn’t hate me. In fact, she’s the one who texts me first. She writes that (1) she’s sorry she walked out on me, (2) she wants to know if I’m okay, and (3) can we meet up on the roof after dinner. I write back (1) It’s okay, (2) I’m okay, and (3) Yes, please, ASAP. I decide that instead of trying to apologize via text, I’ll tell her what happened with Evan in the water, and I’ll say I’m sorry in person. It’s time to lay it all out on the table, be completely honest with her.

  When I get upstairs, Sammie has two mugs of hot coffee and a brand-new package of Oreos ready for us. It’s dark, but the entire city is lit up and alive. It’s the perfect time to tell her everything—and I do want to—but I’m not sure exactly how to start or what to say. Where do I even start? Sorry, it sucks, but he likes me, not you? How do you even say that to your friend? What words do you use to break your friend’s heart, even if it is just a crush?

  So we sit mostly in silence on the plastic lounge chairs and spend the night working our way through half the cookies. We spy on apartments across the street and braid each other’s hair, and I’m grateful for the fact that she’s not asking me about what happened yet. She gives me a crown braid, so that my hair wraps over my head, which I can never do myself, and I braid hers into a half waterfall. Sammie plays with a new app that lets her take artistic night photos and then has me take some shots of her hair for her Instagram. She hovers over her phone while I lie on my back and look up at the sky. I count four stars, two airplanes, and one helicopter, and then I close my eyes and listen to the buzz of the city below us. I love being up here with her. We’re twenty-eight stories into the sky, away from everyone and everything, but perfectly good together.

  “My hair looks so good,” she says. “This will get a lot of likes. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” I open my eyes and look over at her.

  Sammie finally puts down her phone and breaks the silence: “Okay, what was that?”

  I sit up. “I don’t know.”

  “But, like, what happened? Why did you walk off like that?”

  I shrug. “I guess I was just offended. I mean, what an ass. How dare he say we don’t know about life.”

  “I get that. But what’s with the dramatic exit? That kind of performance is my specialty.” She laughs quietly. “You know that.”

  I have to tell her. “Evan jumped in after me. After you left.”

  “What do you mean he ‘jumped in’?”

  “He got into the water with all of his clothes on.” I force a laugh to make it sound like it was something silly, something light. “He was playing lifeguard or something, I think.”

  “But Vanessa was on duty,” she says. “Ugh. This is ridiculous. He likes you, not me.” She can see straight though me.

  I try a different route. “Well, even if he does, I’m pretty sure that I’ve sufficiently convinced Evan that I’m certifiable, so I don’t think he’ll be expressing any further interest in me. Now he’s really all yours.”

  I hope this works. Even though he may be into me, which I’ve just admitted, I’m absolutely determined not to go for him. I’m absolutely determined not to go for anyone. If Sammie knew that I even remotely like him, she’d back off, which would be pointless. As far as I’m concerned, he’s fair game.

  Sammie gives me a half-skeptical, half-hopeful look. “So you’re saying you think I should go for him? That it’s okay if I go for him.”

  “Of course,” I say. And I’m being honest. It really is okay.

  “I mean, he wasn’t as much of a jerk today,” she says. “All that talk about true love and his dreams and that stuff with his dad. He seems really sweet, actually.”

  “That’s true.”

  She picks up her phone and opens his Instagram page. “Look how cute he is, with his guitar.”

  She clicks on it and plays a clip of him strumming a Bon Iver song. “He’d make a good boyfriend, don’t you think?”

  “I wouldn’t know what a good boyfriend is.”

  She doesn’t respond to my pathetic burst of self-pity. Instead, she just sighs and puts away her phone. We lie under the clear, dark sky a little longer, and thankfully the conversation shifts to finals and senior year and then to less important stuff, like the pros and cons of fried Oreos and our lack of plans for my upcoming birthday, which is on the Fourth of July.

  At midnight, we head back downstairs and climb into her bed, where Sammie continues to play on Instagram while I lie awake, trying not to think about my most recent Episode and why I reacted the way I did. Or Evan. Or how much Sammie likes him. Or how cute he was in that clip.

  * * *

  Sammie’s off today on a mysterious errand with her mom, one that she won’t tell me about. I assume it has something do with my birthday in a few weeks. Even though I told her she doesn’t have to do or get anything for me, she always plans some extravagant surprise, like baking me two dozen cookies from scratch or setting up a citywide scavenger hunt. She goes so far that when her birthday finally comes in August, I feel lame for not knowing how to match hers.

  Since she’s gone, and it’s slow today, I’m actually able to get some studying done. Hardly anyone has come, since it rained all morning, just a few of the hard-core lap swimmers. Virgo thought he was going to have to close the pool, but there hasn’t been any lightning, just a sprinkle here and there, and there’s still another hour and a half until closing. Still, poor Evan’s under an umbrella on deck, waiting for an eighty-something-year-old woman to finish her water aerobics.

  Virgo sits down next to me and opens the schedule binder. “Ciao, bella. Mind if I join you?”

  “Not at all.”

  He looks at my book. “Aren’t you done yet?”

  “Nope. Three more finals.”

  “I do not miss high school.”

  “Don’t you still have to take finals?”

  “Sure, but a college semester’s only sixteen weeks, so we were done almost a month ago. Plus, you don’t have to be at school seven hours a day. You actually have time to study.”

  “Sounds glorious.”

  “I mean, it’s a lot of work, but you’re going to be amazed at how much easier it is than high school in a lot of ways. Especially since you’re a nerd.”

  “Hey, I’m not a nerd!”

  He flips to the back cover of my book. “You’re studying for a health final. No one studies for health finals. So, yeah, you’re a nerd.”

  “I don’t want to mess up my GPA.”

  Virgo laughs. “You’re a nerd. But
believe me, that’s a good thing. You’ll rule the world one day.”

  I thank him because I know he’s saying it to be nice, not to mock me, but I can’t help but feel a little self-conscious.

  A few minutes later, Evan approaches the desk. “Last person just got out, finally,” he says. Then he jumps on the counter and sits so his legs are right next to my book. He tries to catch my eye, to offer me a smile that reads like maybe a request or an apology, or, at the very least, a plea for a truce.

  I slide a few inches away, close my book, and slide it under the counter.

  “God, I hope no one else shows up,” Virgo says.

  “Can we close this place yet?” Evan complains. “I mean, look how dark the sky is.”

  “Sorry,” Virgo says. “Only if you see lightning, or if a kid hurls in the pool.”

  Evan looks at me. “Don’t you have a little sister? Any fake vomit upstairs you can bring down?”

  I laugh. “Somewhere in her disaster of a room, I’m sure.”

  Right then, the sky lights up with a flash and then a few seconds later everything vibrates with the booming echo of thunder.

  Evan claps his hands and jumps off the counter. “There’s your lightning! Bennett Tower Pool is officially closed!”

  Virgo heads off to tell the eighty-something-year-old woman that she has to get out of the water, and then he goes to lock up all the bathrooms. Evan and I work on putting away a few chairs and cleaning up the office.

  I shut down the computers and close up the sign-in binders while Evan organizes the pH test kits. Even with the pounding rain and Virgo’s operatic voice reverberating down the hall, there’s an awkward silence between us. It’s the heavy weight of an unfinished conversation, one that I don’t want to have. I can tell he wants to talk to me because he keeps looking over at me, trying to catch my eye. Part of me wants to talk to him, too, to explain what happened the other day and why I can’t get involved with anyone right now and maybe even drop hints about how Sammie likes him. But I decide that the best thing to do right now is focus on cleaning up—that is, on keeping my mouth shut and eyes forward.

  He locks up the last cabinet and then breaks the silence. “So we have this surprise gift of an hour or so. We should hang out or something.”

  “Um, no. I need to study. Three finals this week. But thanks.”

  Virgo comes into the office, drenched and smiling. “I love rain.”

  “Let’s do something, yeah?” Evan says. “Viviana is going to call up Sammie and tell her to come hang out with us.”

  “I never said I was going to—”

  “Come on,” Evan says. “You need a break. See if Sammie’s home yet. Tell her to come.”

  Now I’m totally confused. Why is he telling me to call Sammie? Is this part of his appeal for a truce? I really want to say no, but Sammie would kill me if I passed up this opportunity for a health final.

  Evan looks at me. “We could all just hang out. Tell her to come.”

  “Okay, yeah, I guess. Hold on.” I text her: URGENT. Lover boy wants to know if you’re home yet. Pool is closed due to lightning storm and he wants to hang out. Where are you?

  I get an immediate text in return: HELL YASSS. Stuck in traffic but will be there sooooooon. Say yes and I will join you.

  “Sammie’s in.”

  “Excellent,” Evan says. “Virgo, you in?”

  “Sure.” He shrugs. “I’ve got nothing to do.”

  Evan looks at me. “Could we go up to your place?”

  “No, my mom’s studying and my sister’s there, probably finding ten million ways to distract her. We could go to the roof of my building. There’s an indoor room. It’s used for parties, but when it’s not rented out, it’s open to anyone. And it’s actually great during a storm. When it thunders, the whole building rattles. But it’s even better up there. Mila says it’s like being inside a drum.”

  “That sounds like absolute perfection,” Evan says.

  Virgo agrees, and we run through the rain to the back door of Bennett Tower. I pull out my key and make a silent prayer to the gods of precipitation and other random occurrences that I don’t run into my mom or Mila in the elevator.

  Thankfully, the gods are in good spirits today. We arrive at the top floor, to find the windows of the party room encased in thick gray clouds.

  The room is empty except for some folded chairs and a Ping-Pong table. “Fantastic,” Evan says. “I haven’t played in years.” He finds a couple of paddles and balls under the table and motions to Virgo and me. “Two against one?”

  I take a paddle. “I have to warn you. I’ve spent many hours up here. I’m a bit of a pro.”

  “A pro, huh?” Evan picks up a ball and dribbles it on the table. “That sounds like a challenge. I’m in.”

  Virgo takes his paddle and stands next to me. “I’m on her team.”

  I text Sammie to let her know where we are, and then I take my position.

  As it turns out, I am better than both Evan and Virgo, but generally speaking, we all kind of suck.

  Evan is about to serve the ball to us when he stops. “Time out. Have you ever played Extreme Ping-Pong?”

  “No.” Virgo and I both laugh.

  “I am not familiar with Extreme Ping-Pong,” I say.

  “Well, it’s a game where only the chosen few, only the truly daring, triumph,” Evan says. “The goal is to keep the ball off the floor, by any means possible. Other than that, there are no rules. Only survival. Do you think you two are brave enough to survive?”

  What begins as a serious game with points and careful serves and rules about volleying and double bounces quickly devolves into a ridiculous game of full-room tennis. We’re leaping and diving and running around the room, hitting the ball so that it flies off the walls, off the ceilings, off our paddles two, three, four times, anything to keep the ball from the ground. And we’re on a streak. It has to be a good five solid minutes of the ball moving through the air before a flash of lightning fills up the room and thunder reverberates so loudly that Evan, who’s in control of the ball, drops it and shudders from the bang.

  “Dude,” Virgo yells. “You killed our streak!”

  “Holy crap!” Evan fumbles for the ball. “You weren’t kidding. That is terrifying!”

  “I told you!” I laugh.

  Virgo slams his paddle on the table and high-fives me. “And that means Viviana and I are the triumphant World Champions of Extreme Ping-Pong!”

  “The tournament isn’t over yet,” Evan says. “It’s only just begun.”

  Virgo checks his phone. “Sorry, man. I’ve got to get out of here. Meeting my girl for dinner.”

  I check my phone. Sammie hasn’t texted back yet. I text her again: You on your way? Not sure how much longer we’ll all be here. Virgo’s leaving. Come quick. I’m saving lover boy 4 u.

  Virgo leaves, and it’s just Evan and me and the thunder and lightning. There are patches of blue now in the sky, but the rain’s still pounding down pretty hard. “Want to just watch the storm?” he asks.

  “Sure,” I say. We put the paddles back and sit on the floor at the edge of the window. This very large party room suddenly feels very small now that Virgo’s gone.

  Outside the window, the sky is thick with clouds. On clear days, we can see all of the city from up here—Lake Michigan, the Hancock Building and all of Michigan Avenue to the east, Willis Tower and all of downtown to the south. Now, the entire city’s disappeared behind the storm, and it’s just us: Evan and me, and no one else. I suddenly feel like I’m sitting too close to him. I slide a few inches away, and I make it look like it’s so I can rest my back against the wall.

  “You okay?”

  “What?” I say. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “That was a fun game.”

  “It was.” I look at my phone. No text from Sammie. “I don’t know why she isn’t writing back.”

  “Who?”

  “Sammie,” I say.

  “Ri
ght.” There’s more lightning. Evan presses his head against the window and counts under his breath, and then the thunder rumbles, enough to shake the whole building again. “Ten miles away. Looks like it’s moving this way.”

  I check my phone again: 6:35. Nothing. “I should probably get going soon.”

  Evan lifts his head and looks at me. “I’m sorry Professor Cox upset you. He can be brutal sometimes.”

  “Brutal,” I say with a laugh. “Okay, if that’s what you want to call it.”

  “He’s a good man, really. And he speaks some very real truths that, as much as they’re difficult to hear, can be incredibly enlightening.”

  “I just—you know what? Never mind.”

  “What?”

  “Well—I don’t understand, why you like him so much, I mean. He doesn’t seem that smart to me—brutal, sure—but I don’t see that there’s much to like about him.”

  Evan turns around, presses his back against the window, and thinks for a minute. “I think he’s had a really hard life. He’s told me a few things and—” I’m about to ask him what things, when Evan looks at me. “Professor Cox was the only one who knows that I’ve changed my major to music. Well, now him—and you.”

  “Oh.”

  “He’s the first person who told me that I should do what I want with my life. That it’s my life to live. That I’m not allowed to live according to my father’s logic. My dad’s dream is for me to be a CEO of some corporation. He only signed me up for violin because playing an instrument is supposed to help you be better at math. I could hardly even hold a pencil, and yet he had me holding a violin and a bow and going to classes two times a week and making me wake up every day before school to practice at five A.M. Only it completely backfired on him, because I’m mediocre at math, but apparently I’m a whiz at music.”

  I nod. “My dad makes me untangle all my knots.”

  “What?”

  “He has all these rules. One is called ‘Learning from past mistakes.’ Like, he absolutely hates when my cords get all tangled. Headphones. Computer cords.” I laugh. “And a necklace? God forbid. He says, ‘If you’d just take a minute to do it right, you’ll save yourself hours of frustration later. Learn from your past mistakes, Viviana. Learn, and change your future behaviors.’ But the thing is, he’s the one who’s frustrated by it. They’re my cords, my necklaces, so why do they bother him?”