His arms snake around my waist and draw me against his solid body. A body so different from Mitchell’s slim, non-muscular build. “Since he won’t be home for a while, maybe we could hang out here for a little bit and take advantage of the alone time.”
My heart beats faster than a jackrabbit running from a coyote. “We could. Or we could go to your house.” Why did my voice have to shake?
“Or we could stay here,” he says against my neck. Uh. His mouth inches down my neck. Whoa, whoa, whoa. His hands inch underneath the back of my shirt, drawing me flush against his body. Umm . . . umm . . .
“You smell so good.” His breath is hot on my skin as he presses his lips to my collarbone.
I tense. Oh gosh. Where does he think this is going to go? I didn’t mean to give him the wrong impression. I’m not ready for this. Why did I let him in the house without Dad here? Oh, I know. Because Mitchell never would’ve expected anything. Why do I keep assuming he’ll be like Mitchell? Mitchell is books and band and innocence. Jimmy is athletics and popularity and experience.
“Jimmy?” Stop quivering, voice! Be firm. Speak your mind.
“Mmm?” His tongue slips out. Is he giving me a hickey?
No, no, no. “I really do want to go swimming. Let me go change so we can go.”
He brings his lips back up and presses quick kisses across my cheek until he meets my mouth. He slows his pace, his tongue tracing the curve of my lips. I gasp. “But we won’t be able to do this at my house with my mom there.”
I kiss him back because I like kissing Jimmy, but I’m not ready to do more than that. His hands running up and down my bare skin scorch a trail up my back. When I look in the mirror will I have a burn marks? Aren’t I supposed to like what he’s doing?
“You’re so beautiful. Have I ever told you that?” His mouth keeps moving against mine, teasing my lips with his teeth.
“Umm . . . no, but it’s been implied.”
He chuckles and brings his mouth over my earlobe. When his teeth trace the edge, I gulp. Oh goodness. I have to stop this.
“Jimmy, can we slow down please?” My voice comes out all breathy and shaky as I gently push against his chest.
He slowly draws back and looks confused, “Okay.” It’s not a normal okay. He works his jaw from side to side as disappointment paints his eyes. He pulls his hands from under my shirt, and I start to find a regular breathing pattern again.
He buries his hands into his front pockets, puzzled by my rejection. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s just . . .” I swallow. “I need more time.”
He nods and offers a gentler smile. “We can do this at a slower pace, okay? Go change, and we’ll go swimming.”
There’s something off about the way he sounds. His words are reassuring and respectful, but his tone is forced. Is it because I made him so worked up? Did I make him angry? It didn’t feel right. I can’t feel bad about saying no, and yet . . .
***
After Jimmy drops me back off at home, I head straight for the mailbox. The rest of the afternoon was so awkward, I couldn’t relax and Jimmy was standoffish. Every time I swam closer to him, he’d swim away and make a lap across the pool. A letter from Brett would make me feel so much better. Please let there be a letter.
As I sift through the stack of mail, the disappointment creeps in when I don’t see his white envelope and handwriting. It would’ve been too convenient. I’m not that lucky. But then, behind all the junk mail and bills, there’s a bigger envelope, and I recognize Brett’s handwriting across it. What did he send me? Jogging inside, I set the mail on the console by the stairs and run up to my bedroom.
Breaking the seal, I pull out a neatly folded paper plane made of his usual notebook paper.
It’s as if the planes were made of nothing more than paper and disintegrated into the water, impossible to collect all the broken pieces.
But those were my thoughts. I never told him. Did I? How did he know? There’s an inscription on top of it.
To Ruby,
This plane brings you wishes for your birthday. Growing up, my mom convinced us birthday wishes were stars in the sky. I want you to make a wish and send it up to where your mother is. The only plane I think about is the one that took our families away. This one is much better. This one represents the wishes we lost.
—Brett
I blink back tears before they wet the paper. It is, Brett. It’s so much better.
Swap pictures?
What if he sees my picture and doesn’t want to write me anymore? No. Brett isn’t shallow. I would’ve picked up on it in our letters if he were a jerk.
But what if he doesn’t think I’m pretty?
What does it matter if he does or not? I’m with Jimmy. Brett and I are friends. Pen pals. Nothing more. He doesn’t have to think I’m pretty to be my friend. And I don’t have to think he’s cute to be his friend.
I am curious about what he looks like though. I’ve envisioned the boy without a face for so long, I forgot he isn’t a figment of my imagination. He’s not some fuzzy blob in Pennsylvania behind a desk, writing me letters.
Does he have blonde hair or brown? Or maybe he’s a redhead. Are his eyes green or blue? It’s possible they’re brown like mine. Does he smile with all of his teeth, or does he offer side smirks and half smiles?
Okay. Fine.
TAKE A LITTLE TRIP
Brett
FRIDAY, APRIL 2
I’m living a double life. Each night I write Ruby notes and each day I meet Hope at her locker with a bright smile. Two girls occupy my mind. This can’t end well.
“I can’t believe you two are leaving for the entire week!” Hope throws a pretzel across the lunch table at Amber and leans closer into my side. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Catch up on some television?” Amber flings an MandM back.
“Television? You’ll be staring at hot guys on the beaches of Florida and all you can say is watch some television? I hate you both!”
She’s so pitiful poking out her bottom lip and frowning at the two of us. I wrap my arm around her back, side-hugging her. “I know it sucks. I’m sorry.” But I’m not sorry. It’s Florida, and the beach, and sunshine. It’s not Palmer, Pennsylvania. I’m ecstatic, but I do hate that we’re leaving her behind.
MONDAY, APRIL 5
“Hey, Gram, think I could live here next year and go to school?” I call out, entering Gram’s house after a jog.
“Is the school located on the beach?” I follow her laughter to her bedroom where she’s sitting at a desk, sorting paperwork.
“Sounds like the perfect college.” I kiss her grey head of hair. My mother was a clone of Gram. Same eyes, same shaped face and nose. Their hair was even the same texture, so much so that my brain registers a familiarity as my lips touch Gram’s head. My eyes pour over Gram’s profile. If Mom had lived, this would have been her fate. It makes Gram more beautiful. And much harder to look at.
Ruby,
Spring break ’93! I’m in Florida with my gram. It was a last minute decision because she doesn’t travel much and we hadn’t seen her since Christmas. Amber and I drove over to the beach today. Cocoa, home of Ron Jon Surf Shop. I was pretty much in Heaven. Ron Jon’s is a surfer’s dream, two stories of boards, suits, and beach gear. You name it, they have it. I rented a board and tried my luck at the waves. I’m better on snow, but man do I love being on the water, too. Maybe I should re-consider college in the Sunshine State. I was accepted.
TUESDAY, APRIL 6
“Don’t be such a baby,” Amber accuses, jogging to keep up with me as we pass the pond on our second trip around Gram’s community. “I don’t think they can catch us. How fast can they run?”
“It’s an alligator! I’m not sticking around to find out.” Sweat covers my forehead and drips down my back by the time I’ve reached the safety of Gram’s screened in porch.
Ruby,
There ar
e alligators living in the pond at the place where Gram lives. Alligators! Maybe I won’t move to Florida after all.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 7
Ruby, the people living in Florida are nuts! Sure, they have theme parks and white sandy beaches, but they also have things called palmetto bugs. I swear they are the size of your palm and they chase you like a watchdog chases a thief. Speaking of chasing, Amber seems to think an alligator couldn’t catch us in a foot race. You don’t happen to know how fast they run, do you?
If you never hear from me again, you’ll know I was eaten by the rabid creatures of this so-called Sunshine State. I say so-called because it rains every afternoon. Monsoon-like rain storms with lightning and thunder. It’s crazy, then the sun comes out and the steam cooks you! I repeat, people who live in Florida are nuts!
THURSDAY, APRIL 8
Okay, I was over dramatic yesterday. Florida isn’t so bad. The beach makes up for the crazy creatures and confusing weather patterns. I surfed on and off all day today. It was amazing!
FRIDAY, APRIL 9
Ruby, usually I write to you at night so I can recap my day, but you get Morning Brett, today. On the way to the beach we drive through this cool tiny town. The local vibe is great, lots of pastel stucco buildings and neon painted signs. There are tourist shops on every corner, but they sell cool local items like shells, shark teeth, and alligator claws, of course. Gram is taking us to a few of her favorite places this afternoon. There’s a post office in town, so I’ll stick this letter in the mail, making it my last Spring Break letter for you.
We fly home tomorrow afternoon. Leaving Gram is hard. I wish she could live in PA, but it’s too cold there and she has so many friends here. It wouldn’t be fair to ask her to move. She offered after Mom and Dad died, but we wouldn't let her. That’s when Cole stepped in. Remember back when I wrote to you about good and bad days and getting my acceptance to State? I left out the bad day information. Gram’s been helping Amber and I figure that stuff out this week. I have a feeling I’ll explain it to you one day.
Why is that? Why do I have this feeling that someday I’ll tell you everything?
“Crap!” My pen hits the floor as the reality of my written words startle me. I scrub my hand through my hair. What the . . .
“Brett, let’s go!”
I fold my five notes, written on small notepad paper with flamingos—thanks, Gram—into paper planes. On each one I write a dedication: “This one is for the security we lost.” “This is for Chatty Brett—I lost him, but I’m slowly finding him again.” “Letter three is for the hugs we lost.” “Four is for you and Amber for losing the advice only a mother can provide (Amber tells me that’s the hardest part for her).” “Five is for the laughter lost.”
Stuffing them into an envelope, I hurry from my room, meeting Amber and Gram at the front door. We head out for our last day in Florida. I drop Ruby’s envelope into the mail after lunch.
Oh crap. I left her hanging. My hand wrote words I didn’t expect it to write, and I mailed them. Without thought. I can’t believe it took me until dinner to remember.
I wrote Ruby Kaminski five notes describing my days on break, but I barely thought of Hope all week. I’d call her, but she’s visiting her family for Easter weekend. Monday. Monday I’ll make things up to her. I’ll give her the attention she deserves. Ruby is a friend, a pen pal, nothing more.
I go to bed fighting back the need to write to Ruby before I can fall asleep.
WHERE’D YOU GO
Ruby
Saturday, April 10
“Kelby is so much hotter than Trevor.”
“He is so not. Trevor is hotter.”
“How can you say that?”
How is this conversation still going on? Were Gaby and Valerie always this annoying? I’m gradually remembering why I distanced myself. Who cares who’s hotter? Who cares if Trevor made the soccer team and Kelby didn’t? Who cares if Kelby made the honor roll and Trevor didn’t? It doesn’t matter. Either one of them could die tomorrow and all the drama and insignificant debates wouldn’t matter anyway! Where is the perspective?
Oh right. They have none.
“But Trevor has that huge birthmark on his neck.”
“And Kelby has that bump on his nose.”
Gaby and Valerie sprawl out on my bedroom floor, and my head is starting to hurt. Why did I invite them all over for a girls’ night? I should’ve only asked Kamry. Girls’ nights were never my thing before all of this. Why did I think it would be a good idea? Even if I am trying to be Ruby the Optimist, it doesn’t mean I have to be Ruby the Extrovert. Ruby the Extrovert does not exist and never will.
“You guys,” Kamry snaps. “Is there a reason why this debate is happening? Isn’t it a good thing that you two don’t like the same guy?”
Defensive walls shoot up. “I don’t like Trevor,” Gaby retorts.
“I don’t like Kelby,” Valerie snorts. “Gross.”
Kamry lifts her gaze to me as she paints my toenails with the silver glitter polish she brought over, and rolls her eyes. So, I’m not the only one. Thank goodness.
“Do you and Jimmy have plans for prom?” Gaby cocks her head to the side, attempting to look uninterested when I know she’s grasping for even the smallest detail. “It’s in, like, three weeks.”
“We’ve talked about it. I don’t have a dress yet, though.”
“Let’s go tomorrow!” Valerie shoots up on her knees. “We still need dresses, too. We’re down to the wire. We should go before there’s only leftovers to choose from.”
“Are you guys going with Trevor and Kelby?” Kamry asks.
Valerie gasps. “What?”
“No.” Gaby scrunches up her nose, disgusted. “We’re going stag.”
I should be more excited about prom. I mean . . . Jimmy and I had so much fun at Sweethearts, but after last week something tells me he is going to expect more than dancing this time around.
“How does Mitchell feel about you and Jimmy?” Gaby tries to sound nonchalant as she paints Valerie’s fingernails, but nothing is ever nonchalant with Gaby. She’s always digging for gossip.
“I don’t know, and to be honest, I don’t really care.”
Valerie leans forward, as if pressing her ear closer to me will convince me to spill all my secrets. “Has he even talked to you since you two broke up?”
“Nope.”
Once the school year began and Mitchell “discovered” his feelings for Lisabeth, I was already a forgotten pastime. The pain of rejection still lingers, but not because I miss him or want him back. It simply amazes me I was so easily forgotten. Three years together and suddenly I wasn’t important enough for him to stand by me. How insignificant I must have been to him. When I needed him most, he vanished. I guess he showed his true colors a little too late. If only I hadn’t wasted so many years on him.
“Gina was talking to Lisabeth last week, and she said Lisabeth and Mitchell are going to UC Davis together.” Valerie thinks I care. I don’t. Is she trying to get a reaction out of me so she can blab to Gina about it?
There are so many other places I’d rather be. Mitchell and Lisabeth are the last people I want to talk about.
I haven’t heard from Brett, and I can’t stop thinking about it. It normally doesn’t take this long for him to respond. Swapping pictures was a horrible idea. Seeing me probably made this letter writing too real for him. It was going to stop at some point anyway, wasn’t it? I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did. I would’ve been happy with one response in the beginning. But the thought of him never responding now feels like I’d be missing something—something I didn’t even know I needed.
It’s possible Brett took one look at the picture and it shattered whatever image he had of me. Or . . . oh no. What if something happened to him? I’d never know. He could be lying in a ditch somewhere, and no one would know to tell me. He probably never told Amber about us or else he’d have to fess up to the fact that he was snooping in her room.
What was he snooping for in the first place? If I haven’t told anyone about our letters, I doubt he has. I mean . . . I told Jimmy, but that’s insignificant. Jimmy wouldn’t think to tell Brett if something happened to me. Brett would want to know, wouldn’t he?
I’ll wait for another week. If I don’t hear from him before that, I’ll take measures into my own hands.
STANDING OUTSIDE THE FIRE
Brett
MONDAY, APRIL 12
“Where do we stand?”
Uh, hello to you too, Hope. I grab my backpack from the backseat and turn. She has a knack for popping up by the side of my car each morning. It’s as though she’s stalking me. Ruby enters my mind, our freshman stalker banter making me smile inwardly. I clear my throat.
“We stand in the parking lot.” I wink, not entirely sure what she’s asking.
Amber’s door shuts. “I’ll see you two later.” She waves her fingers, hurrying away. Travis Hawk catches up with her, his arm flinging around her shoulders putting her in a semi-headlock. My jaw tightens. She must do something I can’t see because he jumps back and her shout of laughter reaches my ears. I smile. She looks good today. Not as moody and aggressive as I’ve seen her over the last few months. Maybe things are turning around for her. Speaking of turning around . . .
Hope’s back rests against the driver’s side door. “Where do we stand?” she repeats.
Paper Planes and Other Things We Lost Page 10