by Meg Jolie
I got up and followed my friends out of the room. I heard Tristan get up as well, though he was probably headed off to his bedroom.
“You know he plays that piece just for you,” Jamie told me. She started peeking inside of holiday containers as Willow and I took our usual seats at the granite bar.
“He does not,” I scoffed. “Why would he? He has no idea how much I love it.”
“That sappy smile you get on your face every time you hear it tells him exactly how much you love it,” Jamie said as she rolled her eyes at me. “Cookie?”
She slid a snowman tin our way. Willow and I each plucked out an enormous, glazed molasses cookie.
Willow flipped her long, curly white blond hair over her shoulder. She took a bite of her cookie as she gave me a wary look. Jamie was leaning across the counter from the other direction. She was watching me, too.
“What?” I finally asked after I swallowed my own bite. “Why are you both staring at me like that?”
“She doesn’t know,” Jamie said decisively.
“Know what?” I wondered. My gaze darted back and forth between my two best friends. They finally settled on Willow. “What don’t I know?” I cautiously demanded.
“About Corey.”
My stomach did a painful little twisting-into-a-knot feeling. I shrugged as I ignored it. “What about him?”
“He’s dating Tara Robinson. We saw them last night.” Jamie informed me. “At the movie.”
“Oh.” I shrugged. “So what? I don’t care. I’m over him.” It wasn’t considered a lie if I was willing it to be true. Was it?
Willow let out a disgusted sound from beside me. “He didn’t waste any time did he? When Corey said he wanted to see other people, I guess he must’ve meant it.”
“Guess so,” I muttered. I stared at the cookie in my hand, no longer wanting it.
“I was just glad you weren’t there,” Willow said with a grimace.
“Yeah,” Jamie tacked on. “It worked out well you had to do a belated Christmas with your grandparents. Because the two of them were really—”
“Not important!” Willow interjected.
Jamie blinked. “Oh, right. Yeah. Not important.”
“We need to find you someone new,” Willow decided.
“I don’t want someone new,” I reminded her.
“Ugh, I know, sweetie. You just want Corey,” she said sympathetically.
I shook my head, realizing, to my surprise, it actually wasn’t true. I didn’t like the thought of him with Tara. Yet, I wasn’t sure I wanted him back, either. Things had not ended well.
“No. That’s not it. I just think I need a break from the whole dating thing.” It was true. I’d started dating Corey junior year. He’d dumped me nine months, one week, two days later. Sadly, I could probably figure it down to the exact hour but thus far, had been able to refrain from such obsessively neurotic behavior.
“You’ve had a break,” Willow informed me. “Now you need to quit moping—”
“I’m not moping!” I interjected. She shot me a look and then her green eyes narrowed at me. “Not anymore,” I muttered as Tristan came into the kitchen. He seemed to be ignoring us as he started checking out the contents of the fridge.
“Good. Then you shouldn’t be opposed to us finding you a new boyfriend. The winter dance is going to be here before we know it,” Willow said as she sat back. A conniving smile spread across her face.
“I’m available,” Tristan offered as he shut the fridge. He threw us a teasing grin as he twisted the top off of his bottle of iced tea.
“Over my decomposed, rotting corpse,” Jamie told him. “Besides, Britta’s so far above you that you’d need a rocket launcher to get there.”
“Hey, be nice,” I said as I scowled at her.
Tristan didn’t look the least bit offended by the insult coming from his sister. I assumed he was used to it. I just didn’t want to be the reason for it. He winked at me and grinned before turning to leave.
“Whatever,” he called over his shoulder. “Don’t ever accuse me of not offering to help out a friend.”
Before anyone had a chance to respond, he poked his head back through the archway that connected the kitchen to the front hall. “You know Jamie…I do actually own a rocket launcher. So—”
“No!” Jamie snapped at him.
I giggled, remembering all of the homemade bottle rockets we’d launched in the back field when we were kids.
Jamie didn’t find it as funny as I did. Her hand dove into the fruit bowl that rested on the countertop. Before I could blink, an orange was soaring through the air at Tristan’s head. He easily caught it.
“Now go away!” she commanded.
He went. But not before making another face at me. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You know, that’s really not a terrible idea,” Willow said as she raised her eyebrows at me.
“It’s a horrible idea! Nerd boy would just drag her down with his intrinsic nerdiness. I mean, his GPA is almost perfect without him even trying. There’s just something a little too perverse about that,” Jamie fumed.
That wasn’t true. He did try. Tristan, I knew, studied. Constantly. He deserved his good grades. There was a good chance he would be next year’s valedictorian, or at least salutatorian.
Willow smiled sweetly. “See, then he’s perfect for Britta. Her grades are disgustingly high, too.”
At least she didn’t say it came easy for me, because it didn’t. Mom had high expectations as did my teachers. I think it was a result of having a parent with a doctorate. But like Tristan, I studied a lot. I was the first to admit I should attribute my GPA more to study habits than any sort of brilliance.
“No,” Jamie said, cutting into my thoughts. “This isn’t even up for discussion.” She looked at me.
I shrugged.
I hadn’t started this conversation. I hadn’t even participated in it.
It didn’t really matter to me what Jamie’s thoughts were. Because I wasn’t interested in Tristan. Furthermore, I was pretty sure his interest in me was nothing more than a scheme to annoy Jamie. It was only logical that since Tristan excelled at everything, he’d also excel at that.
“But he’s cute,” Willow pressed. “I think that boy grew a foot since last year. He also grew some biceps. Has he been working out? He must’ve started working out,” she mused. Then she turned to me. Her grin was devious. “Did you check out his—”
“No!” Jamie cried as she glared at Willow. “Nobody needs to be checking out my baby brother’s anything!”
“Hey, I’m just saying…” Willow explained.
“Well, don’t,” Jamie calmly ordered. “We’re not having this conversation because there is nothing to discuss. Tristan doesn’t even really like Britta.”
“Hey!” I said. I’d known Tristan as long as I’d known Jamie, since back in grade school. We’d always gotten along just fine.
“Not like that,” she clarified. “You know he only pretends because it annoys me.”
I nodded. She had just mirrored my thoughts from moments ago. I wasn’t sure then, why it stung just a little to hear her say it out loud.
2
“Why are we still talking about me?” I grumbled. “What about you? Do you have a date for the Valentine’s dance already?” I demanded of Willow. They’d let the subject drop briefly but now they’d thrown it at me again. “I mean, there’s lots of time. It isn’t for another two months.”
As usual, Willow was busy knitting away. She swore that knitting was an underappreciated and nearly extinct art form. Considering that her parents were actual artists, I took her word for it. I figured if anyone would know, it would be Willow. The girl knit constantly. It had started as a hobby but she’d gotten incredibly good at it. Now, she had a display in the corner of her parents’ gallery where she sold her work. Unique scarves, mittens, hats, slippers, baby blankets. If it could be knit, Willow had probably tried it. It was like a po
rtable part-time job that she brought with her everywhere.
I was watching her knit and watching Jamie paint her toenails. I had tossed myself on the bed because I had nothing else to do.
Willow shrugged. “I’ll just go with Grant. If I have to.” The guy was head over heels for Willow. Everyone knew it but she just considered him a friend. A friend who was constantly on standby in case she ever needed a date for anything. “And it’s not two months away. It’s only like six weeks or something.”
“We need to go dress shopping,” Jamie chimed in. I could swear her dark eyes sparkled just at the thought of shopping for shoes and dresses. “Maybe Friday? We could take a shopping day before school starts. Does next Friday work for you two?”
“Maybe,” Willow said noncommittally.
I shrugged. “I’m not even sure I want to go. Maybe I won’t.” The Valentine’s dance was our winter formal. It used to be around Christmas time but too many parents complained about the cost so close to the holiday season. Now it’s in February and a semi-formal instead of a full-blown formal.
Supposedly.
Most girls went all out anyway.
It took me a bit to realize silence had filled Jamie’s bedroom.
“Oh, no. You’re not pulling that,” Jamie told me. “You are going. We’ll find someone for you.”
Find someone for me? That just sounded bad. Like a pity date or something.
“You know, maybe skipping it isn’t such a bad idea,” Willow decided.
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean for you to skip it!” I didn’t want her to miss out because of me. Because I might not be going. “You love this kind of thing. Just because I might not be able to find a date doesn’t mean I want you to miss it.”
“Who said it’s because of you?” she asked in a teasing tone. “It just seems silly to go and spend that much money when you aren’t even going with someone you really want to go with.”
“So who do you really want to go with?” I wondered.
“No one,” she said. “That’s the problem.”
Apparently, Willow was in between crushes at the moment. Not unusual for her. She kept herself pretty busy with her crazy knitting fetish and working for her parents.
“Are you both delusional?” Jamie demanded. “There is no way I’m letting you miss this. You’re going. Both of you,” she said as she jabbed a finger at each of us.
She, of course, had a date. She had Evan. They’d started dating at the beginning of the year. Not that I begrudged her or anything for it. I just didn’t want to think about it. Used to be…I was the one that never had to worry about finding a date.
I decided to not worry about it right then. It wasn’t like the dance was the following weekend or anything. Instead, I kept quiet as I watched them work. Willow definitely took after her parents with her creative abilities. I watched, envious of her.
I kept hoping someday I’d discover a hidden talent. But I if I had one, I knew it was buried pretty deep. I spent most of my spare time reading. And obviously, reading isn’t a talent.
It’s an obsession.
There was a knock on the partially opened door and Tristan poked his head in.
“Mom just called. I’m supposed to remind you it’s your night to make dinner,” Tristan told her.
Jamie’s face fell into a pout. “Why can’t you make dinner?” she demanded.
“Ah, because she asked me to go shovel the sidewalks,” he told her. “Do you want to trade?”
“No,” Jamie told him.
“Didn’t think so,” he replied. His gaze slid over me for a second. At first I was surprised. Then I realized it was possibly because he felt me watching him. Why I was doing that, I wasn’t sure. He gave me a smile before he shut the door and disappeared again.
Willow had a smug look on her face. “There’s the answer to your problem, right there.”
“No,” Jamie said without even looking up. “I’m not spending the night hanging out with my brother. It’s just not happening. I don’t care how good of friends he and Britta are. We’ll get someone else to go with her,” she said decisively.
Before I could respond, Willow was diving into the conversation again.
“Come on,” she pushed as she smirked at Jamie. “They might have fun. I mean, it’s obvious that boy’s had a crush on her forever. Or at least ever since he realized why boys and girls wear different bathing suits.”
Jamie scowled at her. “Tristan doesn’t even date!”
“That’s not exactly true,” Willow countered.
Jamie narrowed her eyes at our friend. “What do you mean?”
“He dated Stacie Fredrickson for a while,” Willow told her.
“No he didn’t,” Jamie scoffed.
“Yes,” Willow argued, “he did. I know it for a fact.”
“When?” she asked. She was clearly not convinced.
“Last fall.” Willow placed her knitting needles in her lap as Jamie closed the bottle of nail polish she’d just finished with. They both looked like they meant business.
“How do you even know if that’s true?” Jamie demanded as she got up to put the nail polish back in the basket on her dresser. “And if it is true, why am I just hearing about it now?” she demanded. She balled her hands up and wedged them into her hips.
Willow smiled knowingly. “It is true. Stacie was late for volleyball practice one night. Coach Gallagher sent me to look for her. I found her under the bleachers. She and Tristan were—”
“Stop!” Jamie held up her hand in a halting motion as she let out a sound of disgust. “Stop right there!”
“And that,” Willow said with a satisfied grin, “is why I didn’t tell you about it.”
Willow and I burst into giggles at that. Jamie shot us both warning looks. Willow had told me all about it. We both knew this was exactly the kind of reaction Jamie would have to it. Therefore, we’d both decided it would be best if it just never got brought up.
Jamie shook her head, ignoring both of us. “It’s irrelevant. Britta can do so much better than my brother. I mean, she’s not desperate for a date. Not yet anyway.”
It bothered me when she talked about Tristan that way. But I’d decided a long time ago it was a sibling rivalry thing. Or maybe just a flat-out sibling thing. I wouldn’t know, being an only child and all.
“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” I told her. “I mean, I get he’s your brother and you two don’t really get along. But if he wasn’t, you wouldn’t talk about him like that.”
She shrugged. “You don’t know that.”
After that, Jamie worked at keeping the conversation far, far away from her brother. She started rattling off plans for the dance we may or may not all be attending. The afternoon passed quickly and a short while after Willow’s mom came to get her, I decided I should start for home, too.
“Do you have to leave already? If you go, that means I’ll have to start dinner.” She was awfully close to pouting.
That was exactly why I needed to go. If I didn’t leave soon, I’d end up helping her with dinner. I knew this from past experience.
“Yeah, I should,” I said as I got up. “We have bags of stuff to put away from this morning.” Mom had probably already put the majority of it away. But I kept that to myself as Jamie followed me out of her room.
“Willow has to work tomorrow, but you can come over if you want,” Jamie told me as we made our way down the steps.
“Maybe,” I agreed. My mom had planned on going into her office, too. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hang out with Jamie or not. I’d gotten a nice stack of books for Christmas and I was anxious to dive into them.
I heard Tristan’s door open behind us and then I heard his footsteps following us down.
“See you later,” Jamie said.
“Bye,” I told her as she disappeared into the kitchen.
I stuffed my feet into my boots and noticed Tristan was doing the same. I raised my eyebrows at him.
“It’
s almost dark out,” he stated. “I’m walking you home.”
Sweet thought but, “I walk here all the time, Tristan. It’s not that far.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t say it was far. I said it was dark. Big difference,” he said as he gave a lock of my hair a tug. “So you can just agree to let me walk with you. Or you can argue and I’ll just follow along behind you like some creepy stalker.”
“Let him go the creepy stalker route,” Jamie said from the doorway that led into the kitchen. “It’s what he usually does.” She smirked at him and he ignored her as he pulled his coat out of the closet.
She wasn’t serious. Was she? Did Tristan usually follow me home? Doubtful. She was just trying to annoy him. He had his back to me so I couldn’t tell if it had worked.
“Fine,” I said with a laugh as he shoved his arms into his jacket. “Please, walk me home.”
“See you later Brit,” Jamie called from the kitchen. I heard her banging around, starting dinner as I zipped up my coat.
When we stepped outside, I realized Tristan was right. It was pretty dark. This far out of town, we didn’t have streetlights. Just the good old-fashioned light from the moon and stars. The temperature had dropped significantly, too. I shivered despite my sweater, bulky jacket, thick boots and gloves. I stuffed my hands into my pockets for added warmth. I scrunched up my shoulders because frigid air was creeping down the neck of my coat. I really ought to wear a hat and scarf. The cute, cream set that Willow had made me for Christmas would’ve been good to bring along.
He cleared his throat slightly as our boots crunched down on the snow. Things with Tristan had always been easy. But lately…things seemed different. I couldn’t exactly say how. They just were. I realized it had started when Corey and I ended. They weren’t awkward or tense…just different in a way I couldn’t quite comprehend.
We talked about nothing in particular as we walked. Once we rounded the curve in the road, my house was in plain sight. I almost told Tristan he’d walked me far enough. But then I wondered if that would be rude. I didn’t want him to think I was dismissing him or trying to get rid of him. And I wasn’t. So I didn’t say anything. I decided if he’d wanted to turn around, he would’ve. So I let him continue to walk me, unnecessarily, down my driveway.