by Karole Cozzo
I attempt to focus, wishing I could talk to him, but I never get the chance. I have to stay ten minutes into the lunch period to finish my test, and he’s out the door the moment the bell rings.
I really don’t feel like walking into the cafeteria, certainly not this late, after everyone else is already there. But internally repeating my mantra about only delaying the inevitable by avoiding it, I tighten my grip on my paper-bag lunch, and stride purposefully toward our table. Erin is noticeably absent, but my seat beside Tanu is still open.
I feel a smidgen of relief as I sit down and she offers me a quick smile. She seems rather oblivious, which is strange. Again I find myself wondering if the news about Phillip being my brother has truly been overshadowed by something bigger.
I unwrap my sandwich. “Where’s Erin?” I ask cautiously.
“She’s doing a test review with some people from her French class. I dunno. Weird.”
Tanu is distracted and I can tell she’s leaning to her right, keeping one ear toward the middle of the table. The girls from my grade are still whispering together instead of having a normal lunchtime conversation. They have their backs turned to the guys, who are carrying on as normal. With the exception of Alex, that is, who glowers down at his meatball sandwich instead of eating it. Sometimes he turns his angry stare toward the gaggle of whispering girls, shaking his head before dropping his gaze again.
That’s it. I have to ask the question out loud.
“What the heck is going on around here today?”
Tanu finally gives me her full attention, and her eyes widen in surprise. They hold a trace of excitement, because Tanu loves sharing gossip. “Oh my God, I assumed he told you. That you would know, of all people.”
“Know what?”
She glances toward the end of the table, then twists around in her seat to whisper into my ear. “So people are saying that Alex broke up with Leighton.”
It’s just about the last thing I expect to hear and I’m too surprised to react, to feel much of anything about this news. It all comes together—the murmurings about changes in Facebook status . . . Alex’s mood in class . . . maybe that wasn’t about me, after all.
Tanu awaits a reaction.
“Seriously?”
She nods, adamant. “Yeah. No one’s really confirmed it, because I don’t think Leighton’s talking about it, but you know, stuff gets out. I think they had some big fight last night.”
“About what?”
Tanu shrugs, and digs her fork back into her Rubbermaid container. “Don’t know. Trying to find out.” She returns to leaning toward the middle of the table, only pretending to eat her lunch as she tries to get the rest of the story.
I struggle to eat, too. Between my late arrival and the unexpected news, I barely manage to choke a couple of bites down. I can’t really wrap my head around it. Alex and Leighton being together caught me totally off guard, but the sudden demise of their relationship is even more startling.
But as the junior class exits the cafeteria and the senior class filters in, there is a very noticeable distance between Alex and Leighton. They make no attempt to close it, and they definitely don’t look at each other. Leighton laughs loudly with her friends, without a care in the world, and Alex just stares stoically ahead as he marches forward with his teammates.
The rumors are clarified, once and for all, in the locker room before practice.
Leighton climbs atop one of the low benches, clad only in her cobalt sports bra and mesh shorts. She claps twice and then stands there, hands on her hips, staring down in challenge at the group. Her eyes are narrowed into slits, and her mouth is a flat line. She doesn’t bother with preliminaries.
“I best not hear anyone talking behind my back. I don’t get down with that, okay? You want to know what happened, fine.” She lifts and lowers her shoulders once—she is thin enough that I can make out her ribs with this slight movement. “Alex and I broke up. Big whoop. People break up every day around here. Now, moving on.”
She hops off the bench and finishes dressing. Within moments, she is talking a mile a minute with Dana and Jamie.
I observe her out of the corner of my eye. Something is off. The thing that I always ruefully admired about Leighton was the authenticity of her confidence, which came off as more than bravado. What I see now is not confidence. It’s a show. I sense that Leighton is hurting, and it’s no fun watching someone hurting, even if she’s not the nicest person in the world.
Since the start of the school year, I’ve been forced to think about how much it would suck to lose Alex from my life, and it seems she’s experiencing that loss now. Maybe she did really care about him, even if she had a different way of showing it. It’s hard not to sympathize, just a little bit.
Then practice starts.
Midway through a drill, Jamie’s stick somehow gets caught under my feet, and I end up sprawled out on the ground, the wind knocked out of me.
When transitioning to the next activity, Leighton calls me out, loudly, for not hustling, even though I’m right in the middle of the pack.
Then I’m replaced in the starting lineup for the scrimmage. Given that it’s two days before a game, I have a feeling I’m losing my starting position for the remainder of the season.
I know my performance in our last game was atrocious, but Leighton’s decision to “switch things up” has a personal edge, there’s no doubt about it.
Things go from bad to worse when I emerge from a bathroom stall after getting changed and find Leighton and Dana waiting for me. “Come into the lobby with us for a minute?” Leighton asks, even though it’s not really a question.
I swallow hard and follow them, ending up in the dimly lit lobby with my back against a wall. They stand in front of me, arms linked casually, like this is going to be a friendly exchange. Somehow I doubt that.
“Like I said earlier,” Leighton starts, “I don’t like stuff going on behind my back. So . . . I just want you to know I know.”
She slides her arm from Dana’s—who, for the record, seems to have no purpose there whatsoever other than making sure the odds aren’t even—and reaches up to tighten her ponytail. “I don’t even know what I know, but for the record, I do know. Nobody makes me look stupid, okay? And that’s what you two are doing.” Her eyes harden, and I know that she will never be nice to me again. Not for show. Not at all.
It’s a terrifying feeling, having that girl at school turn on you so obviously, like being thrown to the wolves. I feel like I’d do anything not to have their teeth at my back.
“I don’t get it,” she says, “but I say one little thing to Alex about the situation with your brother here at school, and suddenly I’m the bad guy. Suddenly, he’s breaking up with me.” She shakes her head and huffs. “I have to believe it’s about more than that, more than him having such a strong reaction to this idea of me ‘picking on people who don’t deserve it.’ I know what a fucking Good Samaritan he is and everything, but there’s no way he got that fired up about my suggestion we actually do something about these kids being in our school. No way. There has to be more going on here.”
I have to speak up, because she’s wrong. She’s just wrong. I’ve never come close to crossing any lines with Alex. The truth is, I’ve barely had the nerve to even think about it.
“There’s not. I don’t . . . I didn’t even talk to Alex today, so I have no idea, but, Leighton, I swear to you . . . it’s not like—”
“I’m not going to let people make me look stupid, Jordyn,” she cuts me off bluntly. “Like I said, I don’t know what it’s about, but I’m not an idiot. And the more times you stand in front of me and lie to my face and act like you have no idea what I’m talking about, the worse you’re making it for yourself when I eventually get proof that I’m right. It’s pretty stupid on your part. Just thought that should be known.” She gives me a final stare, and then tugs on Dana’s arm, leading her back toward the locker room. “Have fun with my boyfriend,” she
calls over her shoulder. “Hope he’s worth it.”
It sounds like a threat. I’m pretty sure it is.
I stay in the dark, pressed against that wall for a long time, shaky and upset. When I finally manage to move, my legs feel like Jell-O and my hands are trembling at my sides.
This is way worse than people knowing I’m Phillip’s sister. The last thing I want is to spend the remainder of the school year with the girls from the senior class turned against me because of the misconception that I was involved in Leighton and Alex’s breakup. I hadn’t even heard about it, for crying out loud!
I retrieve my belongings from the empty locker room and slam my locker shut. The Phillip situation and the Alex-Leighton situation are, on one hand, unrelated. On the other hand . . . they’re not. Phillip coming to my school started the whole chain of events. If Phillip had never come here, Leighton never would have been bothered by his presence. She never would have said anything to Alex, and he never would have broken up with her.
And I never would have fallen victim to a set of circumstances that were beyond my control in the first damn place. I’d still be flying under the radar. As it stands now, I feel like I have a huge bull’s-eye on my back.
It’s not fair.
I exit the locker room through the parking-lot door. It’s dark outside and the sky is spitting; I huddle inside my unsubstantial windbreaker against the wet chill. As I hurry toward my car, I make out another lingerer in the lot: Alex, tossing his equipment into the backseat of his car, which is parked in the row behind mine. As I get closer, I see his expression still looks sour. He’s sort of scary looking in general, like a boxer, in baggy sweatpants and a sweatshirt with the hood up.
But he looks up and turns to me as I approach, and I detect the tiniest of smiles in the shadows of his hoodie. “Hey, M.J.,” he greets me tiredly.
It’s encouraging and I exhale a huge sigh of relief. Maybe his mood in history class didn’t have anything to do with me after all.
“How are you doing?”
He averts his eyes before answering me. “Pretty crappy day.” He taps his fist against the driver’s-side window, shakes his head, and laughs once, mirthlessly. “Being talked about all damn day . . . it’s a lot of fun.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I respond, fiddling nervously with the frayed strap of my book bag. I didn’t expect the topic of his very recent breakup to be out in the open like this.
He turns toward me, leaning against the side of his car, squinting into the light rain. “Well, shit happens. Hopefully people will lose interest soon.”
I’m worried that’s not going to be the case, at least not as far as Leighton letting me off the hook.
I clear my throat, hemming and hawing a bit before I’m able to spit out anything resembling a coherent sentence. “Alex . . . look, umm . . . Leighton, she told me part of the reason you . . . you know . . . was because she brought something up about Phillip.” I shake my head frantically and my words tumble out faster. “I appreciate you being nice about the whole thing and maybe trying to look out for me and my family in some way, but you didn’t . . . you don’t have to do that.”
He stares back at me, expression unreadable, and I babble on, uncertain of the territory I’m stumbling into.
But I continue anyway, thinking about how I just lost my position on the team in a flash, thinking about all the ways she can turn my social life hellish. I can’t do third grade all over again. By high school, girls have developed tactics way nastier than forming clubs against one another. Next to Leighton, Caroline’s antics seem like child’s play.
“Please don’t break up with her because of me . . . because of Phillip. She’s blaming me, Alex, and I . . . I just really don’t want that.”
Alex’s eyes don’t stay expressionless for long. They widen in surprise and then I see the surprise morph into a low, seething anger that’s unfamiliar and unexpected. His hands ball into fists at his sides and his upper body stiffens. “Are you joking?”
I feel heat work its way into my chilled cheeks. Maybe I’m off base here. Maybe Leighton set me up to look like an idiot in front of him, and maybe their breakup had nothing to do with me whatsoever. I might be reading this all wrong.
I backpedal frantically. “Oh . . . oh . . . I’m an idiot.” My palm goes to my forehead and I wince in embarrassment. “I don’t mean to pry into your business. She said . . . and I thought . . . but if it had nothing to do with your conversation, or me, I’ll butt the hell out.”
I offer half a smile, but Alex’s eyes only darken further, and the muscle in his jaw twitches with irritation.
“Jesus Christ, Jordyn, can we please have an honest conversation for once?” he explodes. “My God, don’t act like you don’t know. I wasn’t alone at the playground.” When I just stand there, silent, he throws his hands up and pushes his hood back. “Of course it has to do with you. It is about you in a way you seem to be completely freakin’ clueless about!”
I am frozen, shell-shocked, as his loud voice reverberates in the empty lot.
Alex takes a step toward me and I can feel the angry energy pulsing around his body. “I told you I wasn’t in love with her.” His eyes pierce mine. “And I’m pretty sure you know the other side to that story, even if we never talk about it. You know there’s no way I could ever sit there and let her try to get at you or your family. But come on, Jordyn.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Don’t act like you don’t know that this breakup had a lot less to do with the type of person she is than the type of person I think you are.”
I panic as he wrenches the lid off Pandora’s box. “Alex, don’t—”
But he’s on a tear and I don’t think he even hears me. He kind of looks like he wants to throttle me, actually.
“You didn’t give me a chance to finish the other day. You took off like you always do.” He shakes his head. “Sometimes I really don’t get you, you know that? Most people try to make themselves look better on the outside than they really are on the inside. People like Leighton. Then there’s you. It’s like it’s the other way around, like you don’t want people to notice what’s special about you. You pull away every time they try to.” Some of the anger dissipates in his expression and I think I can see a trace of the Alex I know . . . and love . . . again.
“Why doesn’t anyone know the girl who chose to work at Camp Hope last summer? Why doesn’t anyone know how you went out of your way to make the bathroom at the playground special? It’s like you hide that person away and it’s sad, Jordyn.”
My chest constricts and my throat tightens, but if Alex notices, he still doesn’t let up on me.
“So I just want to be honest for a minute,” he finishes quietly. “You were special.” His eyes meet mine and they look pained. “You are special. But for whatever reason, you don’t want me to acknowledge that. You won’t let me close enough to. Why?”
A lump rises in my throat and I feel sudden tears against my lower lashes. My voice is a hoarse whisper, because if I try to out-and-out speak, the tears will surely garble my words. “You remember getting noticed in the wrong way more than you remember getting noticed in the right way, you start just wanting to blend in. You start not wanting to be noticed at all.”
The emotions of the week—the embarrassment, the shame, the fear—consume me and the tears crest and break over my cheeks.
Alex reaches up, brushing a tear away with the pad of his thumb. His voice is low and soft. “Yeah, well, too bad I’ve always noticed you. From day one. I noticed the way the sun changes the color of your eyes.” He smiles, remembering. “I noticed the way your skin smells like cinnamon and sugar on warm afternoons. I noticed the way your voice sounded when you talked to your campers, how patient it was, how it calmed them.”
His throat tightens and the pain in his eyes is familiar. It’s the same pain I’ve seen reflected in the mirror every time I’ve allowed myself to think of how I’ve missed him.
“I noticed how easily
our hands fit together the one time you let me touch you. I noticed that you seemed lonely, really, really lonely, even though I didn’t know why.” His eyelashes flutter as his eyes meet mine. “Which is the most ridiculous thing in the world, considering how badly someone wants to spend time with you. Every single day.”
I close my eyes against the crippling onslaught of emotion and feel new tears spill down my face.
“I guess I understand why you walked away last year.” Alex shakes his head. “But there’s nothing to hide anymore and there’s no reason to. If you had a chance to do things differently . . . look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t take it.”
When I don’t answer right away, he grasps both my biceps, bringing me even closer, and my eyes fly open. His voice becomes insistent. “Be honest. I know you told me you didn’t want that choice, last summer in the closet.” His lips press together in frustration and his eyes are demanding. “Look me in the eye and tell me, right now, that you wouldn’t choose differently.”
I think of how many times my heart has nearly split in half with aching and regret. I consider the power of my memories of last summer, how they badger me, and still hurt over a year later. I feel the energy it takes, every day, to push the feelings away, to keep the words locked behind my lips, to fight the magnetic draw I have toward this boy.
I want to hold his hand. I want to touch his face. I want to memorize his expression when he’s sleeping, all over again. I want to feel the pressure of his lips against mine.
I just want him.
But I didn’t have the option of choosing differently then. He’s asking me to make that choice now. Now, I can’t shake the more recent memory of the nasty expression on Leighton’s face in the silent lobby and her very thinly veiled threat. And I’m terrified of her.
I’m terrified of being treated like a leper again.
I’m terrified of gaining attention not only as “Phillip’s sister,” but as the girl who stole Leighton’s boyfriend. I’m scared of the cruelty that will ensue, because I know how cruel people can be.