I think about what he’s just said, and then, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know you didn’t. But put yourself in her place.”
“Is that really possible?”
“Probably not. But most of us don’t like feeling like we need a handout.”
“So should I just forget it?”
“She might change her mind.”
“I guess I’m not very good at not getting what I want.”
“Maybe this will give you some practice.”
“Excellent.”
He smiles at this, standing. “Past my bedtime. ‘Night, son.”
“‘Night, Dad.”
I sit there for a while after he goes upstairs, wondering why I’m wanting something I’m probably not going to have. Is it just the challenge of it and the fact that I’m not used to hearing no?
If it is, then that pretty much makes me a jerk.
The truth is I think it’s actually way more than that.
*
Ann-Elizabeth
THE NEXT MORNING, I wait until I hear Lance’s truck roll down the driveway before I leave my room for the kitchen. “Morning, Mama,” I say, sitting down at the table.
She looks over her shoulder from her spot at the stove. “Morning, Ann-Elizabeth. The bus will be here in a few minutes. I’ll feed Henry this morning. You go on and eat.” She places a plate with two eggs and a piece of toast in front of me.
“I’m not really hungry,” I say.
“You have to eat before you go to school. Your brain needs fuel for all that work you do there.”
I pick up my fork, cut off a bite of egg and put it in my mouth with little enough enthusiasm that Mama stares at me for a second and says, “Are you sick? And what happened to your face?”
“Tree branch,” I say, amazed how smoothly the lie slides from my lips. I wonder if this will be my new thing. Becoming a practiced liar. But then if Lance weren’t in our lives, I’d really have no reason not to tell the truth.
“Did you put anything on it?” she asks.
“Yes.” I take a sip of my orange juice and slide back from the table, walking over to the cabinet where I keep Henry’s food. “I’ll feed him on the way out,” I say, grabbing my backpack.
“Ann-Elizabeth. What on earth has gotten into you?”
“Bye, Mama,” I say, heading out the door. “Have a good day.”
Outside, Henry waits at the end of his chain, his tail thumping at the sight of me. “Hey, sweetie,” I say, putting the bowl down in front of him.
He digs in. I hear the bus coming, lean down and give him a hug as I say, “See you after school.”
I take off running, reaching the edge of the driveway just as it rolls up. The door pops open. Mr. Bowles, the driver, gives me the same cheerful greeting he gives me every day. “And how’s Miss Ann-Elizabeth this morning?”
“Good morning, and good, thanks,” I say, climbing on and walking to the back. I take the seat I always sit in.
A mile or so down the road, Brandi Stone gets on and slides in beside me like she does every morning.” Hey, Ann-Elizabeth,” she says.
“Hey, Brandi.”
She goes to the middle school where our bus stops before dropping us high schoolers off. She’s been sitting with me since her first day of kindergarten when she walked down the aisle with a terrified look on her small, grimy face.
Most kids get the benefit of a parent’s need to make their child shine for their first day of school. But not Brandi. Her mom, Crystal, had sent her off that morning, looking as if she hadn’t had a bath or washed her hair in a week or more.
There were no pink ribbons setting off Brandi’s pigtails. Instead, her hair had been a mass of tangles, matted so tightly in the back that I had first thought the only thing to fix it would be a pair of scissors.
When I slid over that first day and offered her a spot beside me, Crystal had taken it as if she had been thrown in a pond with no idea how to swim and I had just tossed her a life jacket. “What is school like?” she had asked me in a quivering voice.
“Kindergarten is the best year ever,” I told her, seeing that she needed some reassurance. “The teacher will read stories to you a lot and you’ll get to take naps and have snacks.”
She had smiled hopefully at this. And I noticed that her teeth, like her hair, looked like they hadn’t had much attention either.
“Does she beat you if you’re bad?” she asked, her voice still unsteady against the words.
“No,” I said, trying to hide my shock.
“Oh,” she said. “My daddy said if I act like I do at home at school, I’ll spend most of my day getting beatings.”
“That’s not true,” I said with a frown, certain now I knew what kind of a dad she had.
“But you get snacks?”
“Yeah. Usually stuff like goldfish crackers and apple juice.”
“That sounds good,” Brandi said, looking out the window of the school bus.
I noticed then too that she was awfully small for her age. I wondered if she got enough to eat at her house.
I reached down and picked my back pack up from the floor board, unzipped it and pulled out some cheese crackers I had planned to have for a snack that afternoon. “Would you like these?” I asked.
Her eyes lit up instantly at the sight of them. I could tell she thought she should refuse, but clearly, she wanted them too much to give in to politeness.
“Thank you,” she said.
I opened the pack and handed it to her. The crackers disappeared so fast that I wished I had more to give her.
I did have a hair brush and some rubber bands so I said, “Would you like for me to do your hair before we get to school?”
“Would you?”
“Sure,” I said, hoping I would be able to get through the tangles.
She turned so that her back was to me. I started with the bottom of her hair, brushing the ends gently until I could pull some of the mats apart and work my way up.
Her hair was fine so it didn’t take as long as I had feared it would to get it all straight and tangle free. By the time I was done, it hung well below her shoulders, a fact that surprised me since with the knots, it had seemed a lot shorter.
“Braids or pigtails?”
“Braids, please.”
I divided her hair down the center of the back, brushed one side into a pigtail and then began quickly braiding it and snapping one of the bands at the end. I finished the other side just as we pulled up to the school.
“Thank you, Ann-Elizabeth,” she said, looking at me with such adoration that I wished I had a cute outfit for her to meet her new teacher in. But I didn’t, so I assured her she was welcome and got up to lead the way off the bus. She reached up and took my hand, and we walked that way into the elementary school building.
I wasn’t her mama, but it felt like Brandi was proud enough to be seen with me that I could have been. And from that day, it had been like that with us. I bought things now and then that I knew she needed. Nothing expensive or fancy. But compared to Brandi, I was practically rich. And compared to Nathan, I’m dirt poor.
“What are you thinking about this morning, Ann-Elizabeth?” she asks, pulling me out of my daydreaming. “A boy?”
“Now what would make you think that?” I ask, giving her a half-smile.
“You kind of have a dreamy look in your eyes.”
“I do?”
“Yeah, you do.”
“I guess I must have been thinking about Henry.”
She gives me a clearly skeptical look. “Henry’s great, but I haven’t seen this look on your face before.”
“Hm. You’re awfully perceptive this morning.”
“So it is a boy?” she says with a notable amount of glee.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to. Is he cute?”
I smile a little. “Yes. He is.”
“Tell me!”
“There’s reall
y nothing to tell.”
“I don’t believe that. What’s his name?”
I decide I don’t need to hide this from Brandi. “Nathan.”
“How did you meet him?”
“We go to school together. He rode his bike out to see me last night.”
“From where?”
“Town.”
“That’s a really long way! He must really like you.”
“It would never work.”
“Why not?”
“He’s like from a different world. His dad’s a famous songwriter.”
“Well, that’s cool, but he’d be lucky to have you, Ann-Elizabeth.”
I hear the sincerity in her voice and feel a little catch in my throat. “That’s nice, but he could pretty much have his pick of any girl in school.”
“But he came out to see you. Why?”
I look down at my hands, and hear myself saying, “He asked me to go to Homecoming.”
“Oh, wow. That’s exciting. You’re going, aren’t you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t have a dress.”
“There’s got to be some way you can get one.”
“He said I could wear one of his sister’s, but I don’t want to be a charity-case girlfriend.”
“I bet he doesn’t think of it like that or he wouldn’t have offered.”
“I would think of it like that.”
“Then maybe you should change your way of thinking. Ann-Elizabeth, you have to go. This is a good thing. You deserve a good thing.”
I want to act like it’s no big deal and that I don’t really care, but I don’t have that kind of acting ability. “It just seems too complicated. He really comes from a different world.”
“Who could be better than you? You’re pretty and nice.”
“Thanks, Brandi. You are just about the sweetest girl I’ve ever met.”
“I really mean it.”
“I know you do,” I say, giving her hand a squeeze.
She glances out the school bus window, quiet for a moment, before she says, “Do you ever question why some people get better lives than others?”
I consider my answer. Something tells me there’s more than casual interest to the question. “Sometimes. Why?”
She shrugs. “I just wonder if maybe I did something wrong. Something that made me bad.”
“You’re not bad, Brandi. You’re a really good girl. Don’t let anyone make you believe otherwise.” I see the tears well up in her eyes, one slipping down her cheek.
She wipes it with the back of her hand, looks down as if she’s embarrassed.
“Did something happen, Brandi?”
She shakes her head quickly. “No.”
I put a hand on her arm. “Tell me.”
“I don’t want to.”
“What happened?”
“I’m just dumb. I never do anything right.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true.”
“Who says?”
“My dad.”
“He’s wrong.”
“He wishes I’d never been born.” She looks down at her hands. “Sometimes, I do too.”
“Hey.” I turn in the seat to face her. “Don’t say that. You’re going to have a great life.”
“How?” she asks, looking over at me with new tears rising up. “How can someone like me have a great life?”
“Because you’re you. And I just know you’re going to do amazing things.” I turn her face to me. “You’re one of my favorite people in the whole world. I can’t imagine not having you in my life.”
“That’s nice, Ann-Elizabeth. No one’s ever been as nice to me as you.”
“Promise me something?”
“Okay.”
“Will you tell me if it’s not safe at your house?”
She nods a small nod. “But why?”
“You can stay with me.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I wish I could. But my mom wouldn’t let me. Sometimes, I think she just likes having me there so my dad yells at me instead of her.”
I think of my own situation, wonder if there’s any similar truth. “No one should be yelling at you,” I say.
“Yeah. That doesn’t really change anything.”
The bus slows and turns in at the middle school entrance. Mr. Bowles pulls the lever that opens the door with a soft whoosh. Brandi stands, pushing her backpack onto her shoulder. “Have a good day, Ann-Elizabeth. Hope you see Nathan.”
“Bye. See you this afternoon, okay?”
I watch her walk off the bus, her narrow shoulders too small for her age. And a little flare of rage ignites inside me.
*
Nathan
SO NOW I’M looking for her after every class. It’s as if my brain has been hijacked, its GPS set on locating Ann-Elizabeth, re-setting every time I think I spot her and then realize it’s not her.
It seems like I used to see her a lot. Pass her in the hall. See her at her locker.
But today, she’s nowhere to be found.
I start to wonder if she’s avoiding me. Paranoid or not, I decide that’s the most likely answer.
When Lit class finally arrives, my theory proves true. She walks in late, makes a beeline for her desk and never glances my way.
Our teacher tells us to open our books to last night’s reading assignment. I do so and pull a piece of paper from my notebook, write a note and then fold it into a triangle before passing it to Marshall Rakes and asking him to pass it across the row to Ann-Elizabeth.
I watch from the corner of my eye as she takes it, then slips it under her textbook without opening it. I’m wondering if she’s going to wait until after class to read it, but fortunately for me, curiosity apparently gets the better of her and she places the triangle on her lap before unfolding it. She keeps her gaze on the teacher, dropping her eyes just often enough to not draw attention to herself.
A small smile touches the corners of her mouth as she folds the paper back together, and I swear my heart does a somersault in my chest. She waits several minutes before writing something on another piece of paper and sending it back across the row.
I wait until the teacher is torturing someone with questions about what he got out of the assignment before I open it and begin reading, too eager to see what she said to follow Ann-Elizabeth’s discretion.
Maybe I was avoiding you a little. Busted. Not easy to face someone the morning after you’ve shared your dog and a plastic blue barrel with him. And no, I haven’t changed my mind about the dance.
Not exactly the answer I was hoping for. I practice some reserve and decide face to face is better than another note.
When the bell rings, Ann-Elizabeth slips from her desk and heads for the door. I’d expected this though so I’m right behind her when she steps into the hall.
“Hey,” I say, walking beside her.
“Hey,” she says back, glancing over as if she’s not surprised I caught up with her. “I’m not going to change my mind, Nathan.”
“Even if I promise it’ll be the best date in the history of all dates?”
She smiles but glances off without looking at me. “You’re not lacking in confidence, are you?”
“I prefer to call it determination.”
“That so?” she asks, giving me a glance of disagreement.
“Without it, how are you ever going to get what you want?”
“For the rest of us, there’s a little more required than just determination.”
I reach for her elbow and pull her out of the stream of hallway traffic, landing us both against a row of lockers. I step in front of her, staring down at her with serious eyes. “One date. One dance. If you hate me or the dance, you don’t have to ever go out with me again.”
“You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” she asks in a low voice.
I consider this and then, “It’s not often that I really want something.”
&n
bsp; “So why me?”
“Why not?”
“There’s one obvious one.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not used to not getting what you want.”
“Ouch.” I start to deny it, even as I wonder if there’s any truth to the accusation. “I just think we’d have a good time. That’s all.”
“And I’m back to the dress thing.”
“That’s an easy fix.”
“For you. Not for me.”
“It’s really not a big deal, Ann-Elizabeth. Only if you make it one.”
The tardy bell rings, and she moves away from the locker. “I’m going to be late. I have to go.”
“Can I take that as a yes?” I yell after her as she heads down the hall.
She turns around to smile at me. “No.”
I hear her say it, but something tells me I’m a little closer to yes than I was last night. “I’ll take that as progress,” I call back.
She laughs, and shaking her head, takes off running.
*
Ann-Elizabeth
I’M SITTING WITH my back against Henry’s plastic barrel doing my Trig homework with a flashlight when I hear a vehicle stop at the bottom of our driveway. I glance up to see the lights switch off. The engine goes silent. I peer into the dark, trying to make out who it is.
A door opens, clicks shut. Henry rumbles a low growl.
Feeling a stab of unease, I consider going inside, but immediately decide I’m not leaving Henry to face whoever it is alone.
“Ann-Elizabeth?”
Again, the whisper breaks through the darkness, and relief floods through me. I shine the flashlight in the direction of his voice. “Nathan?”
“Yeah. Can I come up?”
Henry is no longer rumbling, recognizing him from last night. “What are you doing here?”
He’s standing a few feet away now, a garment bag in his arms. “I would have called first, but I don’t have your number, and I couldn’t find you on Snapchat.”
“I don’t have a cell phone.”
Clearly surprised, he says, “Oh.”
“I’m probably the only teenager in America, right?”
The Heart That Breaks Page 5