Rumble

by Ellen Hopkins

  as I could have expected. Bet

  the first primitives to develop

  language enough to express

  their feelings ended up spit-roasted.

  Plan B. Caveman up and call, not

  text, Hayden. She answers immediately,

  as if expecting the communication.

  She is. What did you say to my dad?

  He told me I have to break up

  with you to save my eternal soul.

  “Already? It’s only been, like, sixty

  seconds since your front door attacked

  my face. And mostly what I did was ask

  why he doesn’t like me, then I listed

  all my best points. Including the fact

  I’m not gay, by the way. That really

  seemed to impress him.” Too far?

  You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t, Matt.

  Guess that means too far.

  But How Far Is Too Far?

  Have I crossed enough lines in the past

  twenty-four hours to have thrown away

  everything I struggled to build and maintain

  with Hayden, despite the odds? “So, does

  that mean you’re breaking up with me?”

  If she is, I’m certain it has little to do

  with any edict from her father. Oh,

  Matt, I just don’t know. I still love

  you so much, but it seems like you’ve

  changed, and it makes me wonder why.

  What? “You think I’ve changed? It isn’t

  me who’s different, Hayden. It’s . . .” Stop.

  Don’t do this now. “Please. Let’s talk face

  to face. Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

  Please don’t say no. Please don’t say no.

  If she does, we’re totally through, and I’m

  not ready for that. Apparently, she isn’t,

  either. I’m at Joce’s. Give me an hour.

  Fifty-Nine Minutes Later

  I pull to the curb in front of Jocelyn’s house,

  wait the extra sixty seconds so Hayden can’t say

  I tried to rush her, then give two beeps. She’s out

  the door immediately. She was ready for me, and

  the rare winter sun burnishes the crown of her hair,

  and I fall in love all over again. I can’t lose her.

  I pop out of the cab, haul around to the far side

  of the truck, and open the passenger door. The closer

  she gets, the more I want to kiss her. But should

  I do it here? Now? Will it embarrass her? Should

  I wait, or will she freak out if I do? Jesus, when did

  we, she and I, become such a complex puzzle?

  When she reaches me, I have no clue if I’m

  doing the right thing when I hold out my hand,

  a simple request that she honors. I pull her

  as close as we can get without actually touching,

  plunge into the smoke of her eyes. “I love you.

  Damn if I can figure out if that’s enough for you,

  but it’s the absolute truth. I don’t want to say

  too much, or too little. I don’t want you to feel

  offended if I ask if I can kiss you, because I’m

  not sure what you want anymore, and it’s scaring

  the hell out of me, Hayden.” I can’t read a single

  signal in the smoke, so I just ask, “Can I kiss you?”

  I Hope She Answers

  The way I know

  she would

  have a year ago,

  or six months

  ago, or even just

  a few weeks

  ago—with a tender

  brush of her lips

  against mine,

  flint to fire the kiss

  that could bring light

  to the blackest corner

  of the darkest room.

  I search her eyes,

  wait for that response,

  or something close

  to it. Instead, she says,

  Not here.

  I step back, offer to

  help her up into the truck,

  and as I do, notice

  the black leather jacket

  on the console between

  the passenger seat and the driver’s.

  No Way Around

  The explanation that must come,

  still I hurry to secure both doors,

  start the engine, and take off down

  the road, so I’ll at least have the chance

  to give it. I keep asking what’s wrong

  with everyone else, when maybe

  the real question is what the hell’s up

  with me? Was this some subconcious

  stab at confession? Hayden picks up

  the jacket, sniffs the signature perfume

  permeating the leather. Alexa. Jocelyn

  said she saw the two of you together

  yesterday. Don’t tell me. You gave her

  a ride home, and it got a little hot in here.

  I was going to offer the ride home

  excuse, minus the rest. But now I’d

  better come closer to the truth, minus

  any mention of getting hot. “Not exactly.

  I’m sorry, but I needed someone to talk

  to. About you. We talked about you.

  I’m just trying to figure you out, Hayd.”

  I Don’t See Hayden’s Temper Often

  But it swells to bursting now.

  Figure me out? With Alexa?

  What does she know about me?

  Why didn’t you talk to me instead?

  I couldn’t have asked for a better

  opening. “I’ve tried to talk to you,

  Hayden, begged you to stop closing

  yourself off from me. Alexa knows

  what it’s like to lose you. I’m doing

  everything in my power to make sure

  she and I won’t have that in common.”

  That quiets her for a second or two.

  I keep driving away from town.

  Away from her father, her friends,

  her minister, out into the countryside.

  She watches the landscape shimmer

  beyond the window. Finally, a whisper

  escapes her mouth. What did she say?

  I have to stop and think about it.

  Not sure I should bring up the part

  about the reason Alexa and Hayden

  are no longer friends, and that’s really

  about all she said before . . . Better make

  up something. “She said you hurt her.”

  Hayden Sniffles

  Is she crying? Oh man.

  Not that. I hate it when she cries,

  hate it more when I’m the reason.

  I hurt Alexa? What about me?

  She quit being my friend because

  she was jealous you liked me better.

  Slight distortion of the facts

  there, girl. Not that I’d say so.

  “That’s not exactly how she put it.”

  Oh really? she hisses. Tell me

  how, exactly, she did put it, then?

  I pull off the main road, onto

  a gravel logging track, but don’t

  dare go far. The woods-shadowed

  mud would swallow us whole.

  I turn to Hayden, whose entire face

  is puffy from tears. “Please don’t cry.”

  I reach for her hand, afraid

  she won’t give it, but she does,

  and I kiss each finger, one by one,

  on the very tip. “Alexa doesn’t matter.”

  Pretty sure that’s not one hundred

  percent true in the larger sense,

  but in the context of this conversation,

  it’s valid. “Look. Until a few weeks

  ago, you and I were solid, or at leastr />
  that’s what I believed. Something

  has changed, and it isn’t me.” I take

  her other hand, kiss those fingers,

  too. And it’s only the tiniest interior

  voice whispering that I’d never have

  to go to such lengths to prove my love

  for Alexa. If I did love Alexa, that is.

  I guess I have changed, she admits,

  but not in a bad way. I’m growing

  deeper in my relationship with the Lord,

  is all. I love you, Matt, I do. But spiritual

  love is more important than love born

  of the flesh, and that’s what we have.

  She’s Trading Me In

  For Jesus. Can’t imagine whose

  idea that was. “I thought all love

  came from God. What happened

  to that? Don’t tell me. Judah,

  who’s given you a whole new

  understanding of the scriptures.”

  That’s right. Her eyes fill with

  something very much resembling

  adoration. But for the Lord, or for

  his earthly messenger? Remember

  the last argument you and I had,

  about why you never tried—

  “Of course I remember. To be

  clear, however, my only problem

  was about your ‘discussing’ my

  probable homosexual predisposition

  with your friends and pastor.”

  I know, Matt. And when I told Judah

  what happened he said to put myself

  in your shoes, as Jesus would have

  us do. And then he laid the blame

  totally on me. He said I was at fault

  for believing my worth was determined

  by the artificial standards of man.

  Insane

  The man.

  The message.

  The way she believes every word.

  The control that gives him.

  But I don’t dare argue.

  Mustn’t contradict.

  I can’t fight him long distance,

  even though I know those

  artificial standards

  he expects her to eschew

  are his own.

  He is a two-faced prick,

  and the only way to expose

  the one he so skillfully hides

  is on his home turf.

  “You’re not to blame

  for anything, Hayden, except

  wanting to feel valued. I try very

  hard to do that for you, but obviously

  sometimes I fail. Still, I’m glad

  he’s making you look at things

  through a wider lens. In fact, I’m impressed.

  Do you have a youth group meeting

  on Friday? I’d really like to come.”

  Unconvinced

  Doesn’t quite cover

  her expression. Skeptical

  isn’t strong enough, either.

  She studies me, as if looking

  for my own hidden face,

  or the alien crawling beneath

  my skin, seeking egress.

  Why?

  “Why do I want to go? Why not?”

  Matt, you’ve never shown one

  tiny bit of desire to go to church

  with me, let alone youth group.

  So, why? What do you want?

  “Wow. What a cynic.

  Okay, Hayden, I want

  to see your Judah

  in action; to try and wrap

  my brain around the way

  you feel about him;

  to comprehend the power

  of his message. I want

  to understand.”

  Not Exactly a Lie

  Though I hope she misses

  the nuanced meaning,

  and she seems to.

  I’ll ask Judah, okay?

  “Okay, but it’s his job

  to win me over, right?”

  Go ahead, dude. Convert

  me and I’ll shave my head

  and relocate to Tibet.

  Finally, a smile. I guess it is.

  “So, we’re okay, then?”

  Can’t believe I pulled it off.

  “Is it okay for me to kiss you

  now?” Please, please, please

  don’t say no. “No one will

  see but that bear over there.”

  She jumps. But there’s no

  bear. Matt! That was mean.

  “Allow me to make it up to you.”

  Unpredictably, she softens, lukewarm,

  into my arms. Let the kissing begin.

  This Kiss

  Is a shallow winter

  pool—watery,

  much too cool.

  It makes me shiver,

  and not in a good way.

  I try to dive deeper,

  find the hot spring

  I suspect lies hidden

  somewhere

  inside this girl I love.

  I give it my best shot,

  but she keeps reeling

  me back

  to the surface,

  where the scent

  of citrus-perfumed

  leather

  is overwhelming.

  Sunday Morning

  I wake earlier than usual,

  no doubt due to the sunshine

  flooding the eastern window.

  A second sunny day in a row

  demands a celebration. But first,

  I text Hayden. DON’T FORGET

  TO ASK JUDAH IF I’M WELCOME

  ON FRIDAY. I PROMISE TO BE

  THE PERFECT GENTLEMAN.

  What I don’t promise is that

  I won’t change my mind.

  When I open my bedroom door,

  breakfast aromas smack me

  square in the nose. Mom’s still

  gone, so it’s Dad who’s claimed

  the kitchen. Weirdly, he’s wide

  awake and smiling around his eggs.

  Enjoying the silver morning, too,

  I guess, and some strange air

  of nostalgia engulfs me. “I’m going

  to the range today. Want to come

  along?” Holy hell. Did I just invite

  my dad to go shooting with me?

  Holy Hell

  Is what his body language

  screams, too. And in the span

  of about thirty seconds, his

  expression segues from surprise

  to pleasure to disappointment.

  Seriously, thanks for asking, son.

  But I’m afraid I’ve got plans.

  The tone of his voice is odd.

  Husky. And I understand

  immediately that his plans

  do not involve his buddies.

  He’s doing something with her.

  But next time, give me a little

  warning. I’ve been meaning to

  hang out with Jessie. The two

  of us aren’t getting any younger.

  And Luke will never grow older.

  “So you know, I’d give my left nut

  to spend one more day with my brother.

  Next time you should come along.”

  I Retreat

  Before he can respond, exit the house

  without turning around. When I start

  the truck, I notice the leather jacket

  on the backseat. Damn. I forgot to drop

  it off. Oh well. Lex’s house is on the way,

  so it will be a quick stop. I’m almost there

  when I notice the little tremor of nerves.

  What does she think of me? What does

  she expect of me? And a bigger question—

  what do I expect of her now? I glance down

  at the speedometer, which holds steady

  at thirty-eight in a fifty mph zone.

  My subconscious, reminding me I really
/>
  don’t want this meeting, hope it won’t turn

  into a confrontation, or even worse,

  a tear-fest. I hate when women cry.

  Only Fitting, Then

  That Alexa answers the door,

  puffed red eyes feeding the black

  streams striping her cheeks.

  Déjà vu to the nth degree.

  “Uh. Hi? I came to retu—”

  She pushes straight past the offered

  jacket and rushes out the door,

  not much differently than I just did

  at my own home a short while ago.

  I need to get out of here.

  The words are tossed over her shoulder

  as she hustles to my truck and jumps

  up inside, like I’d invited her to do

  exactly that. I can only watch, half

  choking on a silent protest.

  My head swivels toward a flick

  of movement behind the window.

  Déjà vu to the nth degree, except

  the scowling face belongs to a woman.

  She is Alexa, only twice her age.

  Okay, What Now?

  I retreat toward the truck, backward,

  just in case the shrewish woman

  decides to come after me. But I reach

  my vehicle safely. Alexa stares out

  the far window, not acknowledging

  my presence. “Hey, lady. What’s up?”

  Nothing. She doesn’t turn toward

  me. Would you please just take

  me somewhere? Anywhere but here.

  Would it do any good to say no?

  I submit to her request. “Parental

  problems?” I steer in the general

  direction of town, hoping she has

  a destination other than “anywhere”

  in mind. “They seem to be in the air.”

  Mom found out I didn’t spend

  the night with Lainie. Now, she’ll

  probably suspect I spent it with you.

  I’m over eighteen, and technically

  able to sleep with whomever I please.

  She hasn’t played Mama in too many

  years to think she can step in and

  start orchestrating my life now. She

  actually believes she can ground me!

  “Maybe she’s feeling neglectful.

  Anyway, her plan for total Alexa

  domination didn’t work out so well.”

  She half laughs. As if. The worst

  part was the names she called me.

  Okay, it was probably the tequila