To Be Honest

by Maggie Ann Martin

  “Oh my gosh, this is amazing!” Grace said. We each took a pamphlet from Mrs. Brandt’s hand with our official invitation resting on top. It read that there would be journalism professors brought in from across the country looking for students who might be interested in their programs.

  “So you’ll think about going?” Mrs. Brandt asked.

  “We’ll more than think about it,” I said. “Consider me signed up.”

  Grace bounced as we left the room, and her excited energy totally rubbed off on me. I couldn’t contain the smile that crept on my face. I’d never been so invested in a project or worked so hard on it in my life, and to have it recognized on a large scale was overwhelming and thrilling.

  Possibly just thrilling enough to lead me to a future that no longer involved Indiana State’s engineering program.

  chapter TWENTY

  Dad insisted on coming along to Ben’s house to take pictures of me for homecoming, and even though I pretended to be very embarrassed, it felt magical having him there. Especially since Mom couldn’t be. I felt like I was really living out a normal teenage moment, and everything else that might be so not normal about me disappeared for the night.

  Cole was a perfect gentleman the whole night, even when I accidentally stabbed him in the chest with the boutonniere pin. Thankfully, someone’s mom had a Tide to Go pen to get the tiny bloodstain out of his nice shirt.

  We piled into Ben’s car, and I tried my best not to buckle up the excessive amounts of tulle from my skirt. Dad waved at me from the front door, and I waved back. He mouthed for me to “be safe,” and I mouthed back, “Love you.”

  Ben drove us to the Marriot downtown, which had transformed one if its ballrooms into our “Evening of Stars” homecoming. Gold, glittery stars hung down from the ceiling, and plastic glow-in-the-dark stars were scattered all over the dance floor. It was the perfect level of cheesy.

  Grace wrapped her arm around my waist and pulled me in to her.

  “I’m so glad you came,” she said.

  “Me too,” I said.

  “How are you doing, Savvy?” she asked. Her question held more weight than just a quick check-in. She knew how badly I wanted to come here with George, and how guilty I felt worrying about boy drama when my family drama was so much more important at this time. She knew I was a big flurry of confusing feelings that I could hardly wrap my own mind around, let alone share with another person.

  Since she knew all that already, I lied.

  “I’m doing okay, really.” I smiled. It didn’t quite reach my eyes.

  “It’s okay to admit that he hurt your heart,” she said. “It might take a while to get past it. But I swear you will. Who knows, maybe you’ll be head over heels with Cole by the end of the night. That’s the beauty of being seventeen—you aren’t tied to one person forever.”

  “I just feel so silly being upset about it with all the stuff going on with my mom,” I said.

  “Just because you’re going through some family shit doesn’t mean that your feelings turn off in the meantime. And it sucks, because that’s what you want to focus all your energy on, but it’s not something you can switch on and off. It might take time. But it will get easier,” she said.

  I wrapped her in a big hug before dragging her out onto the dance floor. Ben and Cole joined us, and I found out that Cole was actually a pretty good dancer. We did some school-dance classics like the “Cupid Shuffle” and the “Cha-Cha Slide,” and Cole even danced with me for some of the slow songs. He was an A-plus perfect date, and I was so glad that Grace had talked me into coming.

  As the festivities wound down and the homecoming king and queen made their final rounds on the dance floor, our group decided it was time to head out. Our next destination was Ben’s basement, where we’d play video games and eat junk food until we all passed out. The boys walked out first to the car, and Grace and I were close behind, replaying a moment on the dance floor, when Ben dropped it low and just about ripped his pants.

  We both stopped dead in our tracks as we took in George standing in the middle of the parking lot. His hands were in his pockets and he shrugged at me, a silent plea for me to talk to him. Grace started her angry walk toward him, but I grabbed her arm.

  “I’ve got this,” I said.

  “Are you sure?” she asked. I nodded, and she looked in between us, her eyes resting on George’s for a few beats. I like to imagine that she sent him a warning through their telepathic cousin bond.

  I approached him slowly, being extra careful not to trip in my high heels. I knew that I should have practiced walking in these more. When our eyes met, I forgot about all the disappointment and hurt that I’d felt because of him. All I could see now were the beautiful moments we shared together in Sandcastle Park. I wanted more of those beautiful moments desperately.

  “So.” I stared at him, the silence hanging between us. He was still looking at the ground, at my abnormally fancy feet cramped and uncomfortable in the heels Grace convinced me to wear. I suddenly felt ridiculous for painting my nails a sparkly pink.

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t agree to come to the dance with you in the first place,” he said.

  “Don’t apologize,” I said, tapping my feet. “It was weird of me for being so upset about it. Of course you didn’t want to go to the dance—it’s not your scene. I get that now. I’m sorry I flipped.”

  He sighed heavily, looking up at the stars. Here we go. Here comes the speech where he tells me that he’s not interested in me the same way that I am. That I was right, but he was too much of a coward to admit it when I first asked. The pre-rejection bumblebees in my belly stirred and stung as I waited for him to speak again.

  “Can we go somewhere to talk?” he asked.

  “Whatever you have to say to me you can say here,” I said, crossing my arms.

  “Savannah, please,” he begged, his voice almost a whisper. The bees that had turned in my stomach froze along with my heart. Something was wrong. I nodded, following him to his mom’s Jeep that he’d been able to borrow for the night.

  “Fine. Let me go tell Grace that I’m headed out with you,” I said.

  My hands were shaking as I approached Grace, who had a stern look on her face. I’d never seen her go into protective mode like this, but she was definitely not happy to see her cousin in this moment.

  “I’m going to go talk with George for a minute. You guys go ahead, I’ll have him drop me off at Ben’s later,” I said.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, resting both of her hands on my shoulders. “We’re having a fun night. I don’t want him to ruin this memory for you.”

  “It’ll be fine, Grace,” I said. Maybe if I put that sentiment out into the universe it would be true.

  “If you’re sure,” she said. “Text me if anything goes wrong, and we’ll come get you. Promise me you’ll text?”

  “I promise,” I said. She pulled me into a tight hug, and I could only imagine the glare she was sending to her cousin. A good tip to everyone ever: don’t get on Grace Moreno’s bad side.

  My lilac heels made a loud clomping sound as I approached George again, and I tried my best to emulate Grace’s stern face. I walked past him as I approached him and went straight to the passenger’s side of his car.

  He drove in silence, and I started to unpin my hair from its fancy updo, sighing in relief as the pins unhinged themselves from my scalp. Bobby pins were the work of the devil himself.

  I recognized the trail into Sandcastle Park from a mile away. Was he taking me back to my spot to let me down? He was not allowed to ruin this for me. Absolutely not.

  Our feet crunched in the grass and my footsteps quickly matched up to my hammering heartbeats. My heartbeat pulsed through my entire body, and the old saying “The anticipation might kill me” had never been more true. He motioned for me to join him on the ground. I tucked the ridiculous pink tulle under my legs, but it still fanned out around me, creating a five-foot radius around us in every direct
ion.

  “Savannah, I haven’t been completely honest with you,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. How I managed to form a coherent sentence while simultaneously holding my breath seriously beats me.

  “I did want to take you to the dance. I want to do everything with you. I just—I’m scared,” he said.

  “What are you scared of?” I asked.

  He put his head in his hands, taking a few beats to find the words that seemed to swim around his mind, just out of reach. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he leaned into it, lifting his eyes to meet mine again.

  “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. You were all I could think about, and that night when we were at the party, when I figured out that you’d been hurt and I didn’t know … It made my stomach sick thinking that I did nothing to make you feel better. It scared me how in such a short amount of time, you’d become this integral part of my life.

  “And then it scared me even more to think about you leaving for college next year, especially whenever you’d talk about how hard it was having Ashley away at school. I don’t know if I could bear getting even closer to you knowing that it all might end in nine months. And then I felt ridiculous for thinking of an us nine months from now because we’re only sixteen and seventeen and—”

  I grabbed his hands, like he had grabbed mine the other time we were in this alcove together. The last time that we’d had such a monumental miscommunication because of our fear of how much we truly liked each other.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me that?” I asked. “I was so convinced that I had been making this all up in my head, that there was no possible way a guy like you could like a girl like me.”

  His eyes blinked open, dumbfounded. “What do you mean? It’s me who should have been worried. You’re so smart and driven and funny—what were you doing wasting your time with me? If you haven’t realized yet, I think you’re pretty rad. And there’s no one on the planet I’d rather spend every second with more than you.”

  “Well, that’s good,” I said, taking his hand, “because as far as people on this planet go, you’re pretty high up on my list, too.”

  He squeezed my hand. “I didn’t freak you out, did I?”

  “No way,” I said. “You could say pretty much anything to me at this point and I would still be obsessed with you. You know you’re one of my favorite humans, right?”

  He nodded. “Same here.”

  “Right now, I’m super content hanging out with George, my more-than-friend who I occasionally kiss. Let’s not get freaked out by the future, and let’s just enjoy what we have right now. Because nine months is a lot of time,” I said.

  “I don’t want to hold you back,” he said. “I don’t want to influence your decision on where you go to college, because you deserve to go somewhere wonderful, even if it’s not close to Springdale.”

  “I am happy now here with you, just as we are. I’m not worried about what might or might not change in the future. I want to be here, with you now, in our favorite place to co-not-exist. We deserve to let ourselves be happy now.”

  He cupped my face in his and pressed the sweetest kiss to my lips, and I had never felt more connected to another person in my life.

  epilogue

  Mom was being discharged on the same day that Grace and I were making our big adventure to the Indiana State Journalism Convention, so Ashley came up to make sure that everything was sorted. Dad booked a hotel room down the street for the next week while Mom got back on her feet around the house. I made sure that everything was clean and that Fiyero went to the groomers the day before she’d be back so that he was the most handsome boy around when she got to see him again.

  I’d definitely overpacked for the convention, not sure if I should be rocking a blazer-and-skirt combo, or if people would be more business-casual throughout the whole weekend. Grace had done a bit of due diligence stalking the Facebook page from last year’s convention, but the outfits seemed to be a mixed bag. I’d prepare for whichever scenario seemed to present itself when we got there.

  I shoved one last blazer in my suitcase before I heard the honking of Mrs. Brandt’s car in the driveway. Mrs. Brandt would be the chillest chaperone ever, and I couldn’t wait to start the journey with her and Grace to the convention.

  “Kick some ass, superstar!” Ashley yelled behind me.

  I blew her a kiss as I got inside. Mrs. Brandt used her GPS that she’d programmed to have an Australian accent, and we laughed each time it interrupted our songs to tell us a new direction. Thank goodness we were on this trip together. I don’t know that I could have handled a convention of reporters without them.

  Our top convention priorities included a panel with a reporter from CNN who Grace had a professional crush on, a class on producing the news with just your iPhone, and, of course, the awards ceremony. We’d already prepared ourselves to gracefully accept defeat if our article didn’t end up winning. We’d even practiced our “I’m so happy you won” faces to flash at the team that does win. I felt like we were heading to our equivalent of the Oscars.

  When we made it to the fancy convention hotel, we marveled at the height of the ceiling and the exposed elevators that took you up to the tippy top. Mrs. Brandt went to the front desk and returned to us with two room keys.

  “I’ll be just down the hall from you ladies, if you need anything,” she said, handing me the card. “But you have some free time to explore the convention center while I go to a teachers’ orientation. Want to meet in the lobby after your first panel?”

  “Sounds good!” we said in unison.

  Our room was on the tenth floor, and we hopped into one of the space elevators that rocketed us up at top speed. We watched all our fellow high school word nerds check in and explore the hotel from above, and it really started to sink in that we’d be spending the whole weekend with like-minded students. That, and complimentary hotel breakfast. Both were pretty exciting prospects.

  Grace beeped us into our room that looked just as fancy as the lobby. When you walked inside, you could see a big whirlpool bathtub and floor-to-ceiling mirrors that would be perfect for checking out our morning outfits. We could properly assess our blazer-skirt combos every morning.

  “We’re living like queens this weekend!” Grace exclaimed, flopping onto the bed.

  “Queens who have to share a full bed,” I grumbled.

  “At least the school decided to send us. They still aren’t too happy about the article, and the whole ‘having to open an investigation against Coach Triad’ thing,” she said.

  “Semantics, shemantics,” I said. “I still think it’s cool that we get to be here.”

  “It’s definitely cool. And if we want to get good seats at that CNN panel, we need to leave now. I must have front-row seats for Instagram opportunities!” she exclaimed.

  We made it in plenty of time, beating out most of the other students by a long shot. Grace got her Insta-worthy shot of the reporter, and we continued on to different classes and workshops throughout the day. My nerves started to build as we got closer to the awards ceremony, until it was the last ten minutes of our last workshop and the nerves escalated to peak anxiety.

  My phone buzzed and I looked down to see George’s name flashing.

  George: No matter what happens I’m super proud of you. Don’t be too nervous!

  I smiled, bringing my phone into my chest. How was it possible that we’d only known each other for a little over three months but I felt like he knew me better than myself? He had quickly become the one person I can tell everything, completely unfiltered, and always have it received without any judgment.

  The master of ceremonies called the awards to order, and I snapped my attention up from my phone. It was go time. I purposefully kept my expectations low so that if we didn’t end up winning I wouldn’t be completely heartbroken. But when they got to our category, my palms dripped with sweat, which I wiped down my pant legs.

  I
could barely focus on what the presenter was saying when he explained what qualified people to enter the investigative-reporting category. Grace gripped my hand fiercely, and I thought she might cut off my circulation.

  “In second place … Merrill High School for their story on refugee families in their town,” the announcer said.

  I held my breath as he took out the envelope for first place. You might not win. You might not win, and it will still be okay. You might not—

  “Springdale High School for their story about unethical recruitment practices in their high school baseball program,” the announcer said.

  “That’s us!” Grace yelped. We shuffled our way to the front of the stage and shook hands with the announcer. First-place medals were placed around our necks, and Grace and I couldn’t help but flash giddy smiles at each other. We’d done it. After so many interviews and so many hours doing research and making public-records requests, we won.

  After all the award winners were announced, we were invited to a mixer with the students, speakers, and representatives from different colleges at the convention. Networking wasn’t normally my scene, but I felt like I could strike up a conversation with anyone while I had that medal around my neck.

  A woman in a suit-dress combo started walking my way, and I put on a big smile for her. She reached her hand out and I took it.

  “Hi, Savannah, I’ve been dying to talk to you,” she said.

  “Hi!” I said, feeling my whole body flush at the thought of someone wanting to seek me out.

  “My name is Marlene Jenson, and I’m with the journalism department at the University of Missouri. Mizzou is known for its stellar journalism program, and we’re always looking for students who have a gift for reporting. Ever since I read your story as a judge, I knew I had to keep my eye on you.”