One Lonely Degree

by C. K. Kelly Martin

  “Fuck off,” I tell him.

  “Fuck you,” he says back, smiling. “Gee-zus, chill why don’t you. It’s the last fucking day of school.”

  I give him a Medusa stare until he turns away and then sneak a peek at Audrey. Couldn’t she at least have hidden her bike in Jersy’s garage? She made it so easy for Steven.

  “You don’t understand what it’s like, Finn,” she says. “We’ve hardly had any time alone since April. I thought they were easing off with the phone calls. I’d never have done it if I thought they’d call you.” She pulls her hair down around her face. “I know you were sick of all that. I wanted to leave you out of it.”

  Her explanation sounds like a half-truth. Mostly she was just in a hurry to get over to Jersy’s house and mess around while his parents were out. I was the last person on her mind—just a convenient alibi.

  Now the three of us have to suffer all summer long. Steven’s already arranged to ship Audrey off to her aunt’s house in Gatineau, Quebec, for the summer. He and Mrs. Lepage are going to drive Audrey over there two days after her last exam. Audrey’s mom tried to pass it off as a holiday, but Audrey protested that holidays are usually optional. Then Steven started yelling that they obviously couldn’t keep track of her twenty-four hours a day in Glenashton.

  “I want to be out of it,” I cry. “But it seems like every single aspect of our friendship now is just about you and Jersy.”

  Our homeroom teacher strides into Portable G before Audrey can reply. My hands are shaking, and if I wasn’t sitting in homeroom I’d already be crying. I don’t want to be mean to Audrey. I want to work next to her at some nothing summer job for the next two months, joking about our shitty bosses. I know she’d be with Jersy every chance she got, but there’d still be some time left over for me—especially if we worked together.

  I glance over at Audrey, but she’s looking straight ahead, pretending to listen to announcements. We stand for prayers and I stare straight ahead too, hoping she’s glancing over at me and that she’s not angry.

  Then I realize I’ve forgotten my locker combo again and that I threw away the scrap of paper I’d written it on two days ago, thinking I’d never need it again.

  My gaze shoots over to Audrey, who is dedicated to the idea of not looking in my direction, and then down at the corner of my desk where someone has carved the letter “G.” I never noticed it before, and now I don’t know if I’ve been missing it all year long or if it’s brand new.

  The bell rings and Audrey’s halfway to the door. I’m both missing her and mad, and I have no idea what to do, except follow her out of Portable G. She’s waiting outside, her lips puffy and her eyes small. “What you said is not true,” she protests. “I’ve never forgotten about you.”

  “These last couple of months have sucked,” I say honestly. “I feel like your pimp.” Audrey’s mouth drops, but I keep blabbing. “And now you don’t even care that we’re not going to be together this summer. It’s all about Jersy. It’s completely gross the way you guys are always crawling all over each other.” I want to bite back the words, but they’re already gone, and Audrey yanks her head away like we were never friends to begin with.

  “I’m sorry.” I grab for her arm, and then I’m crying, like a complete moron, blubbering away in the space between Portables F and G like I’ll never be able to stop.

  Audrey sucks in her breath and hugs me. “Calm down, Finn.

  It’s okay.” She smoothes her hand over my back. “This isn’t fair, you know. I’m the one that’s being sent away for the summer like some kind of juvenile delinquent. You should be comforting me.”

  “I know,” I mumble. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Yeah, you did,” Audrey says. “You think I don’t know you?” She pinches my arm. “Look, we’re both going to survive this summer. You can work your ass off and buy your own record store.” I smile at her through my tears, disgusted with myself for being such a suck. “Hang out with Jersy,” she adds. “Make sure he hangs on to a couple of brain cells.”

  “What about you?” I sniffle. “What’re you going to do in Gatineau?”

  “I don’t know.” Audrey pouts. “My cousins are thirteen and twelve, and my aunt and uncle are the kind of people who go to church every Sunday. Maybe I can join Abel’s Youth Group when I get back.”

  “This summer is going to set a new record for shittiness,” I say vehemently.

  “Yeah.” Audrey shakes her head. “I can’t believe you said we were gross—after all the drooling you did over Record Store Guy. You would’ve been on him like a rash if you’d had the chance.”

  “I know,” I say humbly. “It’s just—being around it all the time is weird. Every time I’m with you two, it’s like you’d rather be alone.”

  “That’s only because we can never be alone. You know it wasn’t like that before my parents banned me from seeing him.” Audrey tugs at my sleeve and gets us walking in the direction of the main building. “Anyway, it’s not something you’ll have to worry about anymore. They’re never going to let me see him now.”

  I stop walking and stare at her. “So that’s it? You’re giving up.”

  “I’m not giving up.” Audrey stops too. “But what can I expect?

  You think Jersy’s still going to be waiting for me come September? And even if he was, we’d be caught again by October. So I don’t know what’s going to happen, but this feels like we’re saying goodbye. That’s why …” She turns, crossing her arms in front of her. “That’s why it’s so hard. You and me won’t have this summer, but me and Jersy might not have anything.”

  I’m the worst friend in the world; I’ve only been thinking about myself. I’d never have survived this year at school without Audrey. Then it hits me that this is the final day of class. I could still run into Adam during exams, but it’s unlikely. After today I’ll probably never see him inside these walls again. An enormous weight lifts from my shoulders, and I apologize and wrap my arms gratefully around Audrey.

  At lunch she disappears with Jersy as usual, and later in art class he shuffles by me. “Hey,” I say, grabbing his arm. The stupid thing is that I have nothing to follow it.

  “Hey,” he says blankly. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Sure.” I’m surprised he bothered to show; Billy Young and the other stoners are nowhere to be seen. I feel bad for Jersy, sitting there in art on his own, and I lean over and whisper to Jasper that I’m changing seats.

  Jasper gives me a puzzled stare, but I slide out of my chair, cross the room, and pull up a seat across from Jersy. He eyes me expectantly, but I have nothing to say. “Audrey wouldn’t skip class,” he complains, shifting his legs restlessly under the table. “She’s been warned by her parents.”

  “What’d yours say?” I ask.

  “That going behind her parents’ backs isn’t right and we have to respect their decision.” He shrugs as he squints in Mr. Ferguson’s direction. “It’s bullshit. What do her parents think they’re going to do—lock her up every time she meets a guy?”

  It’s weird to hear Jersy mention future guys while he’s still in the picture, but I nod, trying hard to be good and make up for my outburst this morning. “I can’t believe they’re sending her away. It totally sucks, but it’s just one summer. You can make up for it in September.”

  Jersy stares past me like he’s thinking something that he’s decided not to share. He folds his arms in front of him and slumps in his chair. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Finn. Audrey and I have been through it a hundred times already. There’s nothing else to say.”

  “Sorry.” Doesn’t he know he’s supposed to let me be big about this? “I just thought—”

  “I know. It’s okay.” He shifts in his seat. “I think I’m gonna take off anyway.”

  “Are you sure?” I don’t know if I’m supposed to let him go or not. It’s a basic thing and I have no idea. “Where’re you gonna go?”

  “Anywhe
re,” he mutters. “Wherever.” He stands up and brushes past Mr. Ferguson without saying a word.

  Mr. Ferguson pats his hair and stares after Jersy, bewildered. I feel every bit as confused as he looks. One minute I’m so relieved about Adam that I could kiss the ground, and the next I feel lonely, thinking about the two months ahead without Audrey.

  When I get home, there’s a message from Play Country telling me that they’d like to hire me for the summer, if I’m still available, and to give them a call to let them know when I can start. That messes me up even more, because I’m sure they’ve contacted Audrey too, and I stay up flicking through late-night talk shows long after my parents have gone to bed, trying to shake myself out of it. Samsam naps on the floor in front of me, his paws twitching lightly, as I watch David Letterman, then Conan, and finally the second half of Casino Royale.

  I’m so exhausted by the time I go to bed that I fall asleep instantly, but when I wake up I’m already thinking it: I’ll be alone this summer. Maybe it’s my own fault for having one friend at a time, but this is what I’ve always been like. My old best friend, Josephine, moved away near the end of sixth grade, and the one before that, Linnea, started hanging out with all these popular kids that I hated halfway through fourth grade. That time with Linnea was really hard. For about two months I didn’t have anyone to eat lunch with or hang out with at recess. One of the popular girls felt sorry for me and asked me to eat with her and her friends one day, but the next day I couldn’t do it; I didn’t feel like myself when I was with them. It’s not easy being alone but it’s not the worst thing. The worst thing is to be surrounded by people that you don’t feel true around.

  Audrey is the closest friend I’ve ever had. Closer than Linnea or Josephine. I’m the closest friend she’s ever had too, the only one aside from her mother that knows her real dad isn’t MIA like she tells everyone but an alcoholic who still comes to visit once a year or so, always with a gift she’s years too old for. I wonder if she told Jersy, and I wonder if he knows about that day back in sixth grade when we found out that our substitute French teacher of seven days had drowned in her pool. Every girl in our class cried— except for Audrey and me. It was seven days; we hardly knew her. The boys didn’t know what to do with all the emotion in the room, and we didn’t either. How could it possibly be real?

  Later that day I went up to Audrey in the parking lot while she was waiting for her mom to pick her up. We haven’t stopped talking since, and summer feels like a waste without her, like something to rush through to get to the other side.

  I start by calling Play Country and telling them when I can start. Then I study like a brainiac for my English, civics, and science finals. Not so much because I care, but because it gives me something to focus on.

  On Saturday Dad gives me an illegal driving lesson (I’m four months too young for a learner’s license) in a public-school parking lot. It’s supposed to be a thrill, I guess, and it’s okay, but Daniel’s more impressed by the experience when he hears about it later than I am. Some nights I watch South Park with him, and I must be losing it because Cartman seems funnier every time.

  Because I’ve studied so much, the exams are no hassle. I easily recognize the formula for calcium hydroxide and faithfully sketch out a diagram detailing the stages of mitosis. Explaining the main features and functions of the various branches of government is a snap. If it’s possible to lose it and get smarter at the same time, that’s me. If I get any more diligent, I’ll have to invest in a better calculator and sit with the brainiacs next year.

  I don’t run into Adam Porter at school during finals. If I’m lucky, I’ll never lay eyes on him again. The relief of that is still with me, but the other feelings stay too. If I could claw them out of my skin like a tumor, I would.

  Once Audrey leaves, I’ll be the only person who knows what happened that night. It makes me extra lonely, and thinking about Play Country doesn’t help. Dad’s right, I should’ve applied at an art supply store. I could call Play Country and tell them I’ve found another job, but the thought of putting out another round of résumés solo is even more depressing, and if I stay home with Dad and Daniel all summer I’ll turn into one of those people who write Internet fan fiction and don’t get out of their pajamas until three in the afternoon.

  I’m sinking.

  But I try to be supportive when I’m around Audrey, like she’d be in my place. I’ve already screwed that up once. Her parents let me come over a few times before she leaves, and we paint her room pastel orange, to cheer her up when she gets back. It looks Willy Wonka-esque, without the candy, and her parents hate it but they don’t say anything.

  The last time I see her, we both start to cry and Audrey says, “I’ll e-mail you as soon as I can.” She’s leaving early the very next morning, and her mom’s suitcase is open beside the bed, waiting for last-minute items.

  “I’ll e-mail you so much you’ll be bored with me,” I tell her, trying to smile. “And I expect detailed responses to all my pathetic Play Country news.” Tomorrow’s my first day as a trainee team member. I cringe as I picture the next nine weeks, my boobs bouncing around in a Play Country shirt as Suzanne frowns at my lack of team spirit.

  “Oh, God.” Audrey winces. “Why did we apply there?”

  “Because it’s across from the mall,” I remind her. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “A lot of things seem like a good idea at the time.” Audrey’s face is blotchy, and I bet mine’s the same. “My mom let me talk to Jersy earlier. To say goodbye. I think she knows I’ve been calling him while they’re at work anyway.” She wipes her damp cheeks. “But today was so sad that I wish I didn’t call.”

  “What’d he say?” I ask.

  “He said summer’s short and that I should just try to have the best time I can. He told me he’d see me when I get back and that I should e-mail him when I can.” Audrey’s shoulders sag as she looks into my eyes. “It wasn’t what he said, so much. It was how his voice sounded—like things were different.”

  Between the two of us, I know I’ll miss her the most, and I get this twinge of sympathy for Audrey, wondering if maybe she was right about Jersy not hanging on until September.

  Mrs. Lepage’s voice zooms up the stairs, jolting us out of the moment. “Finn, your father’s here to pick you up.”

  Audrey pulls the door open and shouts, “She’ll be down in a minute.” She kicks her mom’s suitcase as she shuts the door. “Stupid thing won’t even close.” Her fingers tug at the zipper, but it only shifts a couple stubborn centimeters. “You see.” She presses her lips sourly together and looks up at me. “Maybe I’ll get knocked up with twins by some French guy while I’m away. That’d show them.”

  “Some guy in his forties,” I add. “With a wife and five kids.”

  “Yeah.” Audrey chokes out a laugh. “They’d probably ship me to Greenland.”

  “Yeah.” I peer at the door, but my feet don’t move.

  “So I guess you have to go.” Audrey stands up next to the suitcase. You’d think we’d be smiling, what with the overwhelming amount of pastel orange in the vicinity, but her bottom lip is shaking and that makes me feel worse.

  “Yeah.” I blink back tears and murmur, “It’s only two months, right? It’d go by in a flash if you were here.”

  Audrey nods doubtfully. “I know.” She reaches out and folds her arms around me. “Thanks for everything.”

  I hug her to death, feeling guilty for every negative thought I had about her and Jersy The room is so bright that I have to press my eyelids together to keep from going blind. It feels exactly like the summer neither of us will have.

  DaD FrOWnS as I climb into the front seat. His hands are gripping the steering wheel like it’s a life preserver, and one of his live jazz CDs is on the stereo. “It’s one lonely degree out there tonight,” a woman says, introducing the next song. “So let’s keep the atmosphere warm.” Her voice hangs on the last word, melting it into honey.
There’s a smattering of applause as I buckle my seatbelt and watch Dad back expertly out of Audrey’s drive.

  My eyes smart and I’m sure I look like shit, but Dad is silent, concentrating on the route he’s taken a zillion times. I wait for him to ask how it went or tell me I’ll be fine, but he just keeps staring out the window like he’s drugged.

  “I can’t believe she’s really going,” I say finally. “Now I have all summer alone at that stupid toy store.” Dad gives me two seconds of his full attention and then fixes his stare back on the road. “And we were gonna take the train to Toronto this summer and walk around Chinatown and Queen Street and check out cool secondhand record stores.”

  “You can do that anytime,” Dad tells me. “The city’s not going anywhere.” That’s the exact same response he gave Daniel that night in the restaurant, and a lightbulb flicks on in my head: this is no different to him. This is me wanting to play some useless video game.

  “That’s not the point.” My voice is prickly. “The whole summer is ruined, Dad. We were gonna go to Ontario Place and Wonderland and the sidewalk sale here and everything.” I can’t believe I have to spell it out for him. He knows Audrey and I were Siamese twins until Jersy came along.

  “It’s two months,” Dad snaps. “Get a grip, Finn.” My skin burns as I turn away, shocked. He was always the one who understood about Audrey. “She’s not moving to New Zealand, for God’s sake.”

  His words sting so much that I want to rip his CD from the stereo and fling it out the window like a Frisbee. What I do is different. I scowl and stare decisively out the passenger window, ignoring him with all my energy.