by E. Lockhart
Ag again. I am completely Rabbity. I have Rabbit Fever. That’s what’s wrong with me.
That and panic attacks. And being a roly-poly, of course. And being a rotten friend.
“Ruby?” Doctor Z was leaning forward.
“Yes?”
“Try to be here, now, okay? You have my attention.”
This is something Doctor Z has taken to saying often. “Be here, now.” Like when I start thinking of all kinds of stuff that I’m not telling her and tune out that I’m even in therapy and that someone’s even there waiting for me to talk. Be here, now.
“Okay,” I told her. “I’m here.” And I burst into tears.
1 David Lee Roth: Fronts retro-metal band Van Halen. The man has been known to wear studded chaps without pants underneath and to pair that article of clothing with a gold breastplate and an off-the-shoulder shirt. I think that’s all you need to know.
I Should Resist, but I Do Not Resist
Dear F-SHAN,
I am sorry I wrote you that note about my hooters. Completely inappropriate.
Suspect I am possessed by strange demon.
Am researching quality exorcists.
Please, please, forget it ever happened.
—written on a half-sheet of notebook paper and folded in quarters.
the day after my therapy appointment, I put the note in Noel’s mail cubby. After Chem, he grabbed my arm and pulled me down the hall and up the stairs. “I want to show you something,” he said, but when we got to the painting studio on the top floor, it was empty. The room had a skylight and cool winter sun shone into the room, which was filled with easels and half-assed student paintings. It smelled like turpentine.
“What?” I said. “I didn’t think you were taking painting this term.”
“I’m not,” said Noel. Then he put his hands on my shoulders and said, “Really, I want to tell you something, and I knew we could be alone here.”
“You’re not showing me anything?”
“No.” He laughed nervously.
“What do you want to tell me?”
“Well.” I took his hands off me and walked around the room.
“What?”
“Anything I say is going to come out stupid.”
“You brought me here,” I told him. “You might as well say it.”
“Okay.” He kept pacing back and forth. “I—I’m dying to hear about your hooters.”
“Excuse me?”
Noel wiped his hand across his forehead. “That came out wrong.”
“You think?”
“I mean, you don’t have to say sorry about that note you wrote me.”
“Thanks,” I told him. “But I talked to my shrink about it and she pointed out that if I don’t want people to think I’m a famous slut, I shouldn’t, you know, do slutty-type stuff.”
“It wasn’t slutty,” said Noel, standing still, finally.
“Yeah,” I said. “It pretty much was.”
He took a step toward me. “It wasn’t slutty. It was sexy.”
Oh.
He thought I was sexy.
“I want to hear everything about you, all the time,” Noel said. “Hooters-or whatever.”
“You do?”
“I really do,” he said.
I felt so dizzy-happy that he told me this, though I knew I shouldn’t even be there with him, though I knew Nora would be mad, though I knew there were so many things wrong about all of it.
Because I wanted to hear everything about him all the time too.
It all rushed over me, the happiness and the guilt and the confusion. I put my hand out to steady myself on the counter, and as I did, Noel leaned into me and put his lips on mine.
He didn’t ask if he could kiss me, the way he had last time.
He just did it, so I couldn’t say no.
His mouth was so soft, much softer than anyone else I’d ever kissed, and as I put my arm up to touch his neck he seemed frail, underweight, vulnerable. And yet also, a little bossy. I mean, he had just decided to kiss me, when he knew I’d said no for good reasons before, but he was not taking no for an answer this time.
I pulled away, in what I fully admit was a lame attempt to protest, and Noel pushed his whole body against mine as I leaned back against the art table.
Then there was nothing to do but kiss him some more.
He wrapped his arms around me like he was hugging me, not trying to cop a feel or whatever, and I just surrendered to the dizziness and kissed him, with all the tension draining out of me. Forty weeks of Noboyfriend and all my anger about Ariel and all my guilt about Nora and confusion about Jackson and Gideon, all my Rabbit Fever and everything—just washed out.
I was happy.
Noel pulled back. “That’s what I wanted to say, actually,” he breathed.
“I didn’t quite hear you,” I told him. “I think you need to say it again.”
So he did, and we were kissing and the world was spinning—and then the door to the art studio opened and Ariel Olivieri was staring at us.
Ariel.
My dizziness left me abruptly and the art room seemed sordid.
I had been kissing Noel.
Whom I had resolved not to kiss.
Whom I had promised not to kiss.
Whom Ariel had kissed.
Ag.
Ariel would be furious, of course.
Then she’d tell Kim and Cricket.
Kim and Cricket would tell Nora.
I would lose all my friends.
I deserved to lose all my friends.
He was off-limits; I had said so myself.
Ariel turned and slammed the door behind her, and I hate myself even more for what I did next: I took off my glasses and kissed Noel again. And again, and again. It was like the Rabbit Fever took over and I couldn’t help it. I felt bad while I was doing it, but I also felt fantastic. I had been wanting to kiss him for so long, and he wanted to kiss me, and the room spun again and the sordidness disappeared and it was just him and me, together. I jumped up to sit on the table and wrapped my legs around him and blocked out everything else but the feel of his body against mine.
It was even better than retro metal.
I spent the rest of the day experiencing delicious jolts of happiness alternating with long periods of self-loathing. Noel was crazy about me! And I was crazy about Noel.
I was a bad friend.
My love life was sorted out, I had left the state of Noboyfriend, he would call me tonight like he said he would and we’d go to the movies and there would be more kissing and everything would be wonderful.
No. That couldn’t happen. I was a crazy leg-wrapping slut who kept on making out with a guy even when I’d told my closest friend I wouldn’t steal him.
Noel was crazy about me!
I was afraid of running into Nora, even though we had no afternoon classes together, so I hid out in the library. But then I had a panic attack.
Full-on. Couldn’t breathe.
I went into the bathroom and was kneeling on the tile floor, trying to slow my heart. I found myself wishing with all my soul that Doctor Z would give me a diagnosis of panic disorder so I could get some pills that would straighten me out. Life would be so much easier, so much better, if I could just pop a little green pill each morning that would make me act like a normal person. Normal, like I’d have consideration for the feelings of others, sound judgment and healthy friendships. Normal, like I wouldn’t be so selfish and slutty. Then maybe I could also have a purple pill to calm me down when I felt panicky, something that would short-circuit my brain? That way I wouldn’t have to sit on the floor of the bathroom holding a damp paper towel and crying because I couldn’t breathe.
Maybe I could talk Doctor Z into a prescription. Medication would make all of this go away.
Then I got scared of myself for wishing such a thing. Not that medication is bad if you need it, but wishing for it to solve all your problems? That’s the attitude that makes peop
le start drinking at two in the afternoon and then they wind up a sick alcoholic like my uncle Hanson.
I leaned against the cold door of one of the bathroom stalls and tried to get my breathing under control, but tears were running down my face. I wanted Noel. I had always wanted Noel.
Now I wasn’t going to get to have him.
Or if I did get to have him, I’d lose Nora and Meghan.
I was a backstabbing slut and I wanted pills and I’d lost my zoo job and Ariel was going to make everyone hate me and why couldn’t I disappear out of the Tate Universe and never see any of these people ever again?
Couldn’t I move to Australia and commune with koala bears?
No, I had SATs in a month. And I had History of Europe starting now. There was going to be a quiz on Friday.
I ran the cold water and splashed my face. Blew my nose repeatedly and got myself into some kind of shape to reenter society. Though to be honest, my nose and lips were still completely swollen from the crying, I had no eye make-up on anymore, and I was not at my most attractive.
I left the bathroom and headed to the library doors, my eyes on the floor.
“Whoa, Roo, what’s wrong?” someone said.
Jackson, heading in with a book tucked under his arm. I was next to him before I even saw him.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.” We were standing in front of the circulation desk.
He squinted at me. “You look upset.”
I shook my head.
Jackson reached out and touched my cheek with his spare hand. “Come on. I can tell you’ve been crying.”
I shook my head again, and tears spilled silently across my cheeks.
“What happened?” Jackson set his book on the floor and hugged me, his puffy parka soft and comforting, like a pillow.
It felt so familiar and so strange at the same time. I had a rush of déjà vu, because of course I’d hugged Jackson more than I’d hugged anyone else on the planet in the last six years.
“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong,” Jackson said. “But you’re crying. I’m not going to let you tell me you’re fine.”
I turned my head because I was scared I would get snot on his jacket. It felt good that he cared.
I don’t know how long we stood there, but eventually he pulled away from the hug, patted me on the back.
“I’m okay,” I said. “Really.”
“You sure?”
I nodded.
“You sure sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then.” Jackson bent to pick up his book. “Feel better.”
Then he headed for the stacks and was gone.
I had wished on the magic cookie for all the badness between us to disappear, and now, maybe, it had.
When I got home that afternoon I took the cordless into my room and called Noel.
“I can’t go to the movies tonight,” I told him.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Noel, I’m so sorry, but I can’t go anywhere with you. Today was …” I didn’t have the words. “Today was, it was… I think it was a mistake.”
“Why?”
I started babbling on about the thousand reasons not to kiss him, and how I liked him but I couldn’t betray my friend Nora and did he realize Nora liked him too? Because it was probably obvious, but I wasn’t supposed to tell, and here I was betraying her again by telling but I wanted to be a good friend to her.
I was in no shape to be going out with anyone because I was unbalanced, and he knew I had the panic attacks and they weren’t getting better, in fact they were getting worse, and I was really sorry, I should never have kissed him back and had he ever heard of Rabbit Fever?
“Ruby.” Noel interrupted me.
“Huh?” I hadn’t finished explaining.
“Look. I understand if you can’t go out with me. But you could at least tell me the truth about it.”
“What?”
“Tell me the real reason. I mean, haven’t we been friends long enough that I deserve the truth?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The problem is not the situation with Nora.”
“Yes it is,” I said. Because it was.
“Ariel saw us. You know she’ll tell Katarina and all those guys, and it’ll get back to Nora by the end of tomorrow. That’s a done deal and nothing we do or don’t do is going to change it. Nora is going to know.”
It wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “Maybe she won’t tell,” I said.
“This is Ariel we’re talking about,” Noel reminded me.
Okay. He was right on that. “But maybe Nora will forgive me if she knows it was just once. If she knows how sorry I am and how I never meant to hurt her.”
Noel sighed. He and I both knew that probably wasn’t true. She had told me outright not to steal him, and back in sophomore year, Nora had been furious at me when I’d kissed the wrong boy. She hadn’t forgiven me for months that time. A second infraction would be even worse.
But I was trying to be a good person. It was completely against my nature—but I was trying. Couldn’t Noel see? And even if Nora wasn’t going to forgive me, at least Meghan might. More important, I had to be able to forgive myself—which I never would be able to do if I became a flat-out boyfriend stealer.
“You’re not being straight with me,” Noel said.
“What do you mean?”
“Be honest with me about why. That’s all I’m asking.”
“I’m trying to be honest!” I said. “I have bad mental health!”
“I saw you with Jackson this afternoon at the library,” he said. “I was on the mezzanine.”
Oh.
Oh no.
“You were making out by the circulation desk.”
“No we weren’t.”
“I saw you,” Noel said.
“We weren’t making out.”
“Okay, let’s call it a clinch. Can we call it a clinch?” His voice was bitter.
“No, it was a hug.”
“Look, if you’re back with Jackson now, whatever, that’s fine. I just want to know now, so I don’t have to hear it through the Tate Universe rumor mill.”
“I’m not back with him.”
“It’s obvious something was going on, Ruby, and it was only like two hours after you’d been with me. I have to say, I felt sick watching you.”
Oh no oh no oh no.
Noel was the only guy in the whole school who didn’t think I was a slut. The only one who said he knew for sure that I hadn’t done all the things people said I’d done.
And now, I knew he was thinking maybe I had done those things. What is more slutty than making out with two different guys on campus in the same day?
“It was a hug,” I repeated. “He was hugging me.”
“I don’t care about the technicalities,” said Noel. “I just know there’s no way I can compete with Jackson Clarke. Not in cross-country, not in popularity and obviously, not with you.”
“Noel, I—”
“I just wish you’d been straight with me. When you called me tonight, I wish you’d said, ‘Hey, Noel, I’m back with my ex-boyfriend. Sorry.’ I wish you’d been truthful.”
“I was!”
“Come on. You made up this excuse about Nora when obviously that situation is already going to be what it’s going to be, and then you talked about your panic attacks, and both of those are just a front. Because what it’s all about is Jackson Clarke.”
“Noel, please.”
“I’m hanging up now, Ruby,” he said. And the phone went dead.
It did not escape my notice that he’d said the same thing to me as Doctor Z.
That it wasn’t all about Nora. It was all about Jackson. Was that really true?
I Encounter Horrible Feet
Roo,
I got all your messages on my cell. I got your e-mail and your note. But I don’t know what to say. I’ve liked Noel for so long, and you were my closest fr
iend. I know you have mental health issues, but I still don’t see how you could do this.
I really, really don’t want to talk about it with you. Please, just leave it be.
Nora
—e-mail, received by me, Thursday morning.
i had left Nora a note in her mail cubby Wednesday after my panic attack. I had called her four times and when I couldn’t reach her, finally, I’d sent a long e-mail explaining that nothing more was happening with Noel and I was desperately sorry.
By way of answer, I got the e-mail above, Thursday before I left for school.
I told Meghan the whole thing while she was driving me to school. The Seattle rain was pouring, like it always does in winter, and we were inching through traffic.
“Wait, back up,” said Meghan, slurping vanilla cappuccino. “You like Noel?”
I nodded.
“You’ve liked him all this time?” I nodded again.
“Am I blind?” she said, pulling onto the freeway. “Because I had no idea. This is a major news flash on the Meghan end.”
“I tried to tell Nora,” I said. “But she just asked me to stop liking him. So I wasn’t exactly advertising it.”
“Oh, that’s fair of her,” said Meghan sarcastically.
“I was trying to be a good friend.”
“You can’t stop liking someone you like,” Meghan reasoned. “Was he a good kisser?”
“That’s what you want to know? I’ve ruined my life.”
“Well, was he?”
“Yes, but I’m never kissing him again anyway, so it doesn’t matter. Ariel will have told the whole school by now.”
“I don’t think Nora will stay mad,” Meghan said thoughtfully. “It’s not like Noel was ever going to like her back.”
“You think not?”
“Obviously not.”
“You were always so encouraging to her about him.”
“I didn’t want to squash her hopes,” Meghan said, “but I could tell by how he acted at Crystal Mountain that he knew she liked him and wasn’t interested.”