Secret Heart

by Dreger,Danielle

  SECRET HEART

  Copyright ©2016 Danielle Dreger

  Cover design: Alex Kahler

  Formatting: Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, event or location is entirely coincidental.

  Lyrics to “Secret Heart” ©1995 Ron Sexsmith and used with permission.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any capacity without the written consent of the author, except brief quotations embodied in reviews or critical articles.

  ISBN 10: (ebook) 0-9977659-0-9

  Published by DDB Press

  7511 Greenwood Avenue North #607

  Seattle, WA 98103

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  AVERY’S PLAYLIST

  LINER NOTES

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  I dedicate this song to Megan, for that time with the baby bird.

  And to Ian and Theo, for being part of my band. I love you.

  “This very secret

  That you’re trying to conceal

  Is the very same one

  You’re dying to reveal

  Go tell her how you feel”

  —Ron Sexsmith, “Secret Heart”

  “DON’T WALK OUT on me, Avery. I need you.”

  “You don’t need me to pull this off. You got this,” I tell Scott as he breathes into a paper lunch sack. “People will come.”

  Scott lifts his head from the bag and glances around the empty drama room. “But what if they don’t? Then I did this all for nothing.”

  “Not all for nothing,” I say and push a bag of Double Stuf Oreos across the table at him. “Have a cookie.” He takes one and untwists it without messing up the icing in the middle. “If no one comes, no one comes. You try again next week. And the week after.”

  “This is why you have to stay. So I’m not alone.”

  “You won’t be alone. You have Ms. Hawkins,” I stand and gesture at the faculty sponsor playing minesweeper on her computer in the corner. She doesn’t look up from the screen.

  “But you’re supposed to be my co-chair,” Scott argues. I think he might cry. “This will only work with you here.”

  I hover at the door to the classroom. Last November, Scott and I were drinking lattes at The Bean Tree, our town’s answer to a shitty Tully’s, when he decided to form a Gay-Straight Alliance called Lion Pride (after all, we are the Oak Bluff Lions. Roar Lions, Roar!). I was tired of my asshat classmates keying “dyke” into the paint on my car, so when I tentatively agreed to it, Scott had stood on a rickety café chair and exclaimed, “It is time for our shitpit of a high school to unstick itself from its antiquated heterosexual ways and accept the fact that it’s no biggie that there are questioning and queer kids in our hallowed halls. Lion Pride!” He raised his arms in the air in victory and the barista clapped. Then the chair tipped over and he fell into my lap.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t,” I say. “I’m allergic to extracurriculars.” I point to my neck. “Look, I’ve already got hives.”

  “That’s a hickey, not a hive. Colleges love this shit. It’s probably not too late to apply, you know.”

  I shake my head. I don’t want to think about graduation, or next year, or college. “You need to stop hanging out with my mom. She’s a bad influence.”

  “But then I’ll starve.” Scott holds up the package of cookies. “Come for the Oreos, stay for the girls.”

  “Oreos aren’t my jam. I’ll see you later,” I say and stick my earbuds in and get ready to blast some Tacocat. I’m halfway down the hall, scrolling through my playlist, trying to find the perfect feminist punk anthem to match my mood when I bump into someone. I stumble and lock eyes with Madison Shea, captain of the soccer team, student council president, and the hottest girl at Oak Bluffs High. “Sorry,” I mumble. “Music emergency.” I wave my phone in the air as the opening chords of “This is Anarchy” start.

  “Are you okay?” She bites her bottom lip and something inside of me shifts.

  I turn off Tacocat. The music no longer matches my mood. I give her a slow, lazy smile. “Just trying not to ruin my street cred with an after-school club.”

  Madison nods in the direction of Ms. Hawkins’s classroom. “Isn’t that where Lion Pride is meeting today?”

  “Yeah. Scott’s in there waiting for people to come. So far no one’s shown up.”

  “He’s in luck. I’m headed there now.” Madison’s face bursts with joy when she grins. What I wouldn’t give to be the teeth in her mouth right now. “It’s pretty cool of you and Scott to start this.”

  “This is all Scott,” I say. “So are you on official student council business? Do you have to vet all the new clubs or something?”

  She laughs, and my knees turn into bacon jam. “Maybe I came here on my own accord. It is a Gay-Straight Alliance, right?”

  “Right.”

  “All clubs now have to have a student council liaison and faculty sponsor after the Hula-Hoop/hacky sack club fiasco last fall, so I volunteered to represent Lion Pride.”

  I snort at the memory. Basically, the school stoners banded together to make a club where they all sat around and got high in the middle of the track during lunch. It took three weeks before administration discovered they didn’t have a faculty sponsor and that they were just smoking weed. Three juniors and a freshman were expelled since they had so much pot on them. “So are you coming?” Madison asks as she moves toward the door.

  I’m about to tell her that I’m not a joiner, but Jessica appears in the hallway with some of our classmates. “Sorry we’re late. Some asshole tore down all the signs and we couldn’t tell where the meeting was. I should have guessed it’d be in the drama department.” She grabs mine and Madison’s hands as she passes and drags us into the classroom. I’m too surprised by her strength to pull away. “Let’s get this party started. I have shit to do and a boyfriend to go make out with.” She takes a seat at the far side of the table and takes four Oreos. “Sweet. I’m starving,” she says as the rest of the crowd filters in.

  If Scott is surprised by my return or the appearance of Madison, he doesn’t let on. Instead he’s grinning like he just won the lottery. I glance around at the dozen or so students seated around the room. His best guesstimate was five recruits, so I guess he won the lottery after all. “I now call the inaugural meeting of Lion Pride to order.” He bangs a purple sequined high-heeled shoe from Ms. Hawkins’s costume closet on the table to ge
t everyone’s attention.

  I tune out his speech out, partially because I listened to it seven times already. I could stand up and recite it along with him, but I don’t do speeches. Mostly I am distracted by Madison.

  She is so goddamn gorgeous. All that blonde hair flowing over her shoulders like she’s a mermaid. I’ve been secretly crushing on her like crazy since last fall when she showed up in my Spanish II class. It goes against my no crushing-on-straight-girls rule, but I can hardly pay attention because I can’t stop staring at the back of her head or her shoulders or her ponytail and wondering if the creamy skin at the nape of her neck is as soft as it looks.

  Even in an alternate universe she’d never go for someone like me. I’ve been out since eighth grade. No one really fucks with me to my face, but I’ve had my fair share of passive-aggressive bullying. I try not to worry about it because I’ve got my band, Detonate the Gazelle, and I do pretty good with the ladies. DTG is made up entirely of lesbians: me, on guitar, Janet on drums, and Monica on bass or keyboard depending on the song.

  Janet and Monica want us to relocate to Austin after graduation. I love this band something fierce but I don’t know if we’re ready to take it to next level, mostly because Janet refuses to experiment with our sound. Besides I can’t just move away and leave Scott when he still has another year left in this socially-progressive sinkhole.

  Madison turns her head and catches my eye. She flashes a shy smile and my stomach is now in my Toms. Hell, I think my heart dropped to the floor, too. I give her my best lady-killer smile, the one that worked on that college freshman at the Tegan and Sara show in Tampa last weekend. And she blushes.

  Scott gestures to me. “You all know Avery, right? She’s pretty much the lesbian equivalent of Taylor Swift.” He pauses and raises an eyebrow, “And just like Taylor she’s currently in between romantic conquests. So ladies, here is your chance to be a muse.”

  I fake smile and mentally flip Scott off. No one is supposed to know I like Taylor Swift, let alone subscribe to her methods of inspiration. I ought to revoke his BFF card for sharing that with the world. Too bad we didn’t sign a blood oath back in middle school. We started hanging out after I saved his scrawny ass from a bunch of miniature homophobes, who have since grown into giant assclowns. And Madison happens to be dating Miles, the ringleader.

  I give a little wave to the new club members as Scott waxes on about our mission. I start to tune him out but then he says, “Avery and I are co-chairing Lion Pride and we’re beyond excited to shake the shit out of this school.”

  “Co-chair?” I mouth at him, horrified, but Scott quickly averts his eyes. He picks up an Oreo and untwists it.

  “Actually, I’m not—” I start but Scott throws his cookie at my head and talks over me. The cookie misses by a mile and rolls under Ms. Hawkins’s desk. She doesn’t look up from her game. I flip him off and he pretends to grab my middle finger and then pockets it.

  “I know this is our first meeting, but we need to go all out this year. That’s where you guys come in. We want your suggestions. Maybe we can do a float for St. Pete’s Gay Pride Parade in June? Throw a party? The point is we need to do something epic that gets everyone talking.”

  “Hells yeah,” Darren yells and pumps a fist in the air. Darren should be Scott’s co-chair, not me. I’m not cut out for this level of involvement.

  Madison is studiously taking notes on everything Scott is saying. It’s pretty adorable how seriously she’s taking her job as liaison. She glances up in time to catch me watching her and we share a smile and for a brief moment I forget that I’m still at school. The moment is shattered when Scott says, “So we’ll meet again next Thursday after school. Send Avery all your ideas. She’s in charge of all the events.”

  I shake my head and brainstorm ways I might kill Scott for making me get involved in a school club. It’s senior year, and the last thing I want to do is coordinate events for Lion Pride.

  “Thanks for coming. Let me know if you have questions. And take the Oreos with you. If I eat one more I’ll explode.” This is not true. No matter what he eats Scott looks like he could join the women’s Olympic gymnastics team.

  Everyone is collecting their shit to leave when I overhear him tell Darren, “Without Avery always having my back, this club wouldn’t exist,” and while he still owes me, he sounds so grateful that I forgive him a fraction for putting me on the spot like that. Jessica grabs the package of Oreos and heads to the door and everyone else files out. Madison gathers her black messenger bag, which is identical to mine. “Later,” I call to Scott, as I follow her out the door.

  “Hey, wait up,” I say, trying to match my pace with Madison’s. She’s got legs that go on for miles and walks much faster than I do. I have to practically jog to keep up. There’s a reason I almost failed gym last year and it’s not because I ditched to watch Emma Stone movies on my iPad in the girl’s B-wing bathroom once a week. It’s because I can’t run a mile to save my life. “It was pretty cool of you to come to the meeting today.”

  “Just doing my duty as student council president and human being. Lion Pride sounds like a lot of fun. I like Scott’s enthusiasm.”

  “Enthusiasm is his middle name,” I say as we near the doors to the parking lot. By now it’s practically deserted.

  “Listen, do you think you could give me a ride to the library?” she asks.

  “You’re not meeting Miles?”

  “No. He’s got plans with his friends and I’m desperate to start on my English essay. Unless it’s out of your way?”

  Why the hell not? “It’s not that far out of my way. There’s my car.” I point to my black Honda Civic with the giant rainbow sticker on the back bumper.

  “Thanks,” she beams.

  I unlock the doors with my key fob and she slides in the passenger side. Before I get in I smooth the bangs of my new asymmetrical haircut in the window. The car already smells like she does, like orange blossoms, and I want to drown in her. I start the car and Tegan and Sara’s “Closer” blasts through the speakers.

  I move to turn it down but Madison stops me. “You can leave it. I like them.”

  That’s it. I’m totally smitten with this girl. As we pull out of the school parking lot Madison mouths the words to another song on the album. I know the odds of this straight girl shattering my heart are good. But my lady parts haven’t hummed with this kind of energy in months and Madison makes a mighty fine distraction. I tell the nagging voice in my head to shut the hell up and sing along with the song until I drown out the doubt.

  MADISON AND I are becoming friends. Or at the very least study buddies. For the last three afternoons I’ve driven her to the library after school. She’s working hard on an English essay and I’m working hard at pretending to study while studying her in a non-stalker way. I have no reason to be here other than to sit two feet away from Madison. I can’t help but fantasize about pushing her up against a bookshelf and trailing kisses along her collarbone as paperbacks tumble down around us.

  I haven’t been inside a public library since elementary school. Earlier today when I told Scott I couldn’t give him a ride home because I was going to the library again, he gave me a horrified look and then raised an eyebrow. “This is about a girl.”

  “No it’s not,” I protested. I can’t tell him about my crush on Madison, at least not yet. He would give me hell for making eyes at a straight girl and wasting my time when there are many more ladyfish in the sea.

  I was at our shared locker after the final bell when he leaned over and sniffed me. “You’re wearing your mom’s Clinique Happy. This is totally about a girl.” Scott assessed my outfit, my standard uniform of jeans and a band T-shirt. Today I’m wearing the Tegan and Sara shirt I got at the concert the other week. “Tell me, are you hot for a librarian? Is it Maura’s mom?” He gasped and put his hand to his open mouth. “Does she know?”

  I shoved the books from our locker into my messenger bag.

  “Fin
e. Don’t tell me. I’ll just mosey on over to the library and see for myself.”

  “Don’t you dare.” I felt the heat creep up my neck, giving me away.

  He smiled wickedly. “Challenge accepted.”

  But we’ve been here an hour and Scott’s scrawny ass still hasn’t shown up. He is all smack talk and no action. He wouldn’t be caught dead in the library. This place isn’t that bad, once you get over the old people smell and all the books. Last Friday when I was wandering the stacks pretending to look for a book on the Industrial Revolution I came across a massive section of old sheet music, which was pretty sweet. Between the sheet music and being near Madison, I’m more inspired than ever. Instead of cracking open a book today, I take out my purple Moleskine notebook to work on some new songs. Janet and Monica will be floored. It’s been awhile since I felt on fire like this with my writing. I’m the songwriter of the group and I haven’t had anything worth sharing since I penned “I Just Wanna Know Your Name,” about Rory, a girl I briefly dated last summer. While my love life has been anything but lackluster this last fall, none of girls I’ve dated have provided any sort of inspiration. They’ve all been vanilla but what I need is some rocky road to fuel my creativity. And while Madison looks like vanilla, I suspect she’s more like rocky road.

  I’m in my songwriting zone until Madison shifts in her seat. She twirls the end of her ponytail around her finger as she reads. Her foot touches mine and sends tiny bolts of lightning up my legs. I try to focus on the lyrics I’ve written today Look at me with your ocean-colored eyes but I can’t stop thinking about her pink flip flop touching the canvas toe of my Toms. I don’t move my foot and pretend for a second that Madison meant to do this.

  Madison flips a page in her book and starts humming the chorus to Bloc Party’s “Modern Love” which happened to be on the radio as we drove here today. She’s slightly off-key but it’s cute. She turns another page and stops humming to scribble down some notes.