I stared at him. Somewhere far away, maybe up there, on the moon maybe, my leg ached.
“That’s what she meant. In that note,” he said.
“Tell her the truth.” I blinked hard and looked up to the stars. “And so?” I braced myself for the truth.
“So I needed to tell you. I should’ve told you at the ditch. I should’ve told you last year.”
“Wait. No—I mean why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did she do that?”
Nick gave me a puzzled look. “I have no idea.”
“Oh.” For eight months I’d been trying to come up with a decent explanation for what happened that night. I hadn’t been able to do it. Now here it was, and it was more absurd than anything I could’ve ever imagined. “You were going to come?”
“Yes,” he said. “I was getting dressed when she texted.”
“Oh.” Tears rolled over my lids. I just let them. I remembered that when I asked her what to do that night, Syd told me not to text Nick. Boys are idiots, she’d said. And so I didn’t. Syd had so much faith in my obedience to her. She’d simply waited for me to ask her what to do.
“I told my parents your appendix ruptured.”
I wiped my tears. “Ah. My ordeal.”
Nick reached over and put his hand on my knee. It was the first time he’d touched me in a non-first-aid-related way. The first time ever. His hand was warm. “I should’ve just told you the truth.” He gripped my knee. “And I didn’t. And I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” I tried to come to a conclusion about how to feel. But I couldn’t. My natural instinct was to wish I could ask Syd what to do. But Syd was suddenly the very thing I didn’t understand. She was the problem. I felt like I’d been busted open, like a window, air passing through me. Unbelievably, I laughed through my tears.
“What?” Nick looked at me like I was crazy.
“Oh. I just thought about how you asked me if I broke my window.”
He smiled. It was unbearable. “Oh yeah,” he said. “I was confused.”
When I heard Syd had disappeared, it was the worst. But at least I knew how to feel. At least I knew I could begin worrying, agonizing, searching, even if it was all in vain. I knew it was right to feel 100 percent terrible, even if it felt 100 percent terrible. But this? This made no sense.
“Can I see her texts?”
“I erased them,” Nick said. “I wish I hadn’t now. But there was so much dog poop. I finally just erased the thread. After she stopped sending them.”
“I knew you were doing that on purpose.” I looked at him. There was no doubt he was telling me the truth. “You wanted her to see that you’d seen them.”
“It was all I could do. Just letting her know that I knew what she was doing was a lie. It was insane. I thought she was insane.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“I thought you were in on it,” he said. “I mean, not at first. At first I was just like: whoa. She asked me to prom and then she stood me up. That really sucks. But then when Syd started all of that stuff, I thought you had to know what was going on. But when I’d see you, I’d realize you didn’t know. I wanted to tell you. But, I mean, she’s your best friend.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“French has been hell. I don’t know about for you. But for me, it’s been hell.”
“Yeah,” I said, shooting him a glance. “It’s sucked.” I heard my voice waver and I corrected it. “By the way, Will Carey is super-hardcore crushing on you, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Oh.” He smiled. “Yeah, I know. He’s a really nice guy. Not my type. But oh man, he’s not very good at hiding it.”
“Yeah.” I wanted to stop myself, but I just let it go. “Have I been any better?” I looked at his chin, unable to look in his eyes. “At hiding it?”
Silence descended from the trees. When I got the courage to look at him, I found his cheeks pink. But he didn’t say anything.
“So what are we supposed to do now?” I asked, scrambling away from my weird confession. If he didn’t know it before, he knew it now. Syd was right. She likes you.
“I don’t know.” He put his hand to the back of his head and grabbed the scruff of his neck. He was nervous. Had I made him nervous? “I mean.” He glanced at me. “I would really like—to kiss you?”
“What?” A wave of anticipation washed over me.
But then Nick froze. “Oh my god, that was so weird. Why did I say that? I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” I tried not to sound totally deflated. “Yeah.” Why hadn’t I just leaned over and kissed him? I’d chickened out again.
“But okay, can I just say one thing?” he said. “While I’m in the middle of saying weird things? Before this is over and I lose my nerve?”
I swallowed hard. “Say it.”
He looked me steadily in the eyes. “I want a do-over.”
“A do-over?”
“Yes. Where I get to buy you a stupid ice cream, maybe after going to a stupid dinner or something. Or you can buy my ice cream. You know. Because—feminism.”
“Okay.” I laughed. I nodded. “Feminist do-over. Granted.”
He smiled. “Tomorrow?” he asked.
“Tomorrow?”
“Is that crazy soon?” he shot back. “No. Sorry.”
“No,” I said. “No. Tomorrow’s good.”
“Cool,” he said.
We sat there in the silent orchard. I was becoming acutely aware of my bloody leg and the gross wound that needed tending to. I bent forward and folded my pant leg down. After that, I didn’t know what else to do or say. I didn’t want it to end.
“So where are you going? To college?”
“Oh.” He seemed relieved I’d spoken, but unenthusiastic about the question. “Well. It’s kind of complicated.”
“You say that a lot.”
“You don’t know my parents.” He shot me a glance. “No. Um. I’m applying to Harvard. And Tufts. My parents—my dad—really wants me to go to Harvard. Obviously. That’s where he went and it’s, like, this big deal. My brother, Jason, goes to Tufts. So that’s why Tufts. But I’m also applying to UNM. But I’m not telling them.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.” He poked at the ground. “I’m not what my parents think I am?”
“Oh crap, you’re a werewolf,” I said. “I knew it.”
He laughed. “Yeah, no. My dad wants me to study math, like him. He thinks I have a gift.” He rolled his eyes. I could see how hard it was for him to talk about the subject. It boggled my mind. My dad had never once suggested what I should study. “Jason applied to Harvard, but he didn’t get in. So now it’s, like, my turn. On the chopping block.” He cleared his throat. “It’s, like—the test. You know? Who will make my father proud?”
“Math is really hard,” I said. “Not everyone has a gift. I don’t. Camila doesn’t.”
He screwed up his face. “How do you know about Camila?”
I wanted to answer: because I know everything about you, you idiot. Now kiss me. Instead I said, “I’ve seen you guys in the library.”
“Thursdays,” he shot back. “You’re there Thursdays but not Tuesdays.” We locked eyes for a long moment. He swallowed. “I see you too.”
I could feel my face turn red. “So what is it you want to study? Do you secretly want to be a circus clown?” I asked.
He smiled. “I don’t know. There’s a forestry program at UNM. I think I want to work for the Forest Service. I’ve read a lot about it.” He gave me a hesitant look, as if what he’d just said was totally shocking. “Literally, I’ve never told anyone that before.”
“Huh,” I said. “That’s kind of cool.”
“I just—I like it here,” he said. “I didn’t want to move here from Chicago. My mom and I had these big arguments. But then we came here and everything changed. It’s hard to explain. But now I don’t want to leave. You know?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I to
tally know what you mean. This is—your place.” I wanted to say, This is your Goldilocks planet, but that would’ve been way too weird and dorky.
“Exactly,” he said. I tried to sit crisscross, but when I pulled my wounded leg in, a shock of pain made me wince. “This is nice, Miranda. I’m so glad we’re talking right now,” Nick said in his sweet, straightforward way. “But the Eagle Scout in me thinks you need to take care of your leg.”
“Yeah.” I tried to hide the disappointment in my voice.
When I stood up, my leg ached more than ever. We started walking slowly back down the road. I could see in the distance that the lights in my house were off. My father had gone to bed. I tried not to limp, and felt self-conscious about it, but Nick didn’t seem to notice. What he said was still swimming in my head. I don’t think I’d ever heard anyone talk about the future like that, so simply and clearly. It felt strangely freeing, to not know, to not have to be sure.
“I sometimes think I’d like to be a nun.” I laughed as soon as it came out of my mouth. “I’ve never told anyone that.”
“Really?” he said.
“Yeah.” I couldn’t stop laughing. “But I mean: it’s totally ridiculous. I don’t go to church. I don’t even know if I believe in God.” I thought about telling him about my zero God from childhood. He was a math genius. If anyone could understand, it was him. But no. It was too weird and personal and screwed up. If I started there, I could end up telling him the real reason I’d been reciting the Gettysburg Address at the ditch that morning. And there was no one who needed to know that, especially not Nick. “Now that I’ve said it, it sounds insane.”
“Still,” he said. “It’s cool.” I remembered, talking to him like this now, what it was that had drawn me to him freshman year, and what I’d missed so much in our silent standoff the last eight months. Nick was never put off by anything. He never judged anybody. He was open—even his face was open. I could see right into him through his eyes. It’s probably exactly what Will was crushing on too. Nick was as close to a character refined by many mutations of fan fiction as Las Cruces High School would ever see. He was reserved and shy, but once you got to his eyes, you were in. In this way, he was the complete opposite of Syd, who trusted her own ideas and opinions to a fault. She was right about nearly everything, and brutally honest, but she wasn’t open. I’d never have told Syd what I’d just told Nick. She would’ve laughed in my face. Then she’d have launched into a tirade on the patriarchal structure of the church. Dude, you don’t want to be a nun. Nuns get screwed. Be a priest. Oh right, YOU CAN’T. She’d dispose of the whole notion within minutes.
I realized that in some screwed-up way, this was what had made my friendship with Syd so easy: I never really had to be myself. I only ever had to be Syd’s friend.
“I don’t know,” I said. “My dad wants college to be this life-changing thing for me. He’s been saving my whole life so I can go to some great school and have this big—Whatever.” I shrugged. “I don’t even know if I want to go to college.” I looked at him. “I’ve never told anyone that, either.”
“I’ve thought about that too,” he said. “Just running away. I could live in a tent. You know, like just walk into the Gila one day and never come out.”
“You could be one of those guys who’s totally off the grid and eats berries and rattlesnakes and wears nothing but leather underpants.”
“Exactly.” He smiled.
“You could come into civilization, but only to visit me at my convent.”
“Deal,” he said. We both laughed.
“Syd was dying to get out of this town. Get into a good school. Get away and be the best. Make a million dollars. She was obsessed. Now she’s gone and I realize I never really formed an opinion about it either way. You know?”
“Kinda. I think so.”
“I’m just saying: I’m sure it sucks. With your dad. I totally get that. It does sound very complicated. But I also think it’s cool you’re not just—on autopilot. You know? Just plowing ahead out of fear or whatever.”
“Yeah, right,” he said. “I’m not scared of leather underpants.”
We laughed again. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” I said. His eyes hit the ground. I’d made him self-conscious. “That’s a good thing,” I said.
“Okay,” he said. We stopped walking before we arrived at my house.
“I’ve got to get back in there,” I said, nodding across the road to my window.
“Do you want help?” he asked.
“Not at all,” I said. “Actually, will you promise me something?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Promise you won’t watch me try to get back in my bedroom window. It’s not going to be pretty. There’s going to be so much ass involved. Like, way too much ass.”
“I promise,” he said, smiling. “Promise me something?”
“What?”
“You won’t become a nun.”
I smiled. Then I laughed. “Oh god.” I rolled my eyes.
Nick turned so he was standing in front of me. It was clearly going to happen now. We were clearly going to kiss. There was no other way this ended.
But then it didn’t happen. Again. The two of us were the worst ever at this. Nick swallowed and put his hands in his pockets. “So I’ll text tomorrow.” He then extracted a hand, raised a palm, and forced me into the world’s most awkward high-five.
“Great,” I said. “Good night.”
Nick smiled. My heart swelled. My leg ached. “Good night.”
He turned and walked away and I stood watching until he got in his car and waved and was gone. I hopped over the wall and looked up at my open window.
When I’d come through that window, my life was an entirely different life.
I walked behind the giant agave and used the little stubby faucet as a foothold, then swung my good leg into my open window. I hung there for a moment, all ass, just as I suspected. I had to will myself to lift my wounded leg. The pain was agony. I sat with both legs inside the window for a moment, recovering. Then I slid down to the chair and stepped to the floor. I closed the window as quietly as I could. Because I’d left it open, my room was freezing.
The first thing I did was take out my phone and stand by the window. I needed to text Syd. I had to do it now. This was the wound I needed to attend to first. I pulled up her text thread, and the column of blue messages sent a flare of anger through my body. I’d been texting all week, begging her to be in touch. She didn’t give one crap that her disappearing act had upended my life. I hadn’t slept. I’d hardly eaten. She didn’t even care enough to let me know she was alive. The cursor pulsed. I thought of the dress in my closet. I thought of Nick having to take off the last tuxedo on Earth and hang it back up, having to explain to his parents he wasn’t going to prom after all, and then having to make up the stupid story about my appendix. I thought of the months that followed, the sting I’d just this morning experienced as I walked past him in French class.
I thought of Syd, rushing in, wearing her dress, irate. I told him I’m going to destroy him. I’d cried into her hair. She’d stayed the night, and in the morning she’d slapped my butt and told me to get out of bed. She was healing the wound she’d inflicted herself. But why had she done it?
YOU’RE DEAD TO ME, I typed into the box.
The cursor pulsed, asking me if I was finished.
I was finished. There was nothing else to say.
I held my thumb above send.
But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring my thumb down. I thought of Ray. Fucking Tonya. I thought of my dad, with his pages of scrawled notes. I sent the cursor back and it ate the message, letter by letter, until the space was blank again.
It was complicated.
I needed sleep. I needed to turn off my phone, let it be dead. I needed to stop waiting for it to ding and change my life. But just as I held down the power button, it dinged.
It was JERK-ASS DIPSHIT.
&nb
sp; Get in okay?
Yes. I pressed send.
I wish I’d told you the truth earlier.
Let’s just forget it.
Also wish I’d kissed you.
My heart flipped. Me too.
I’ll text tomorrow, he wrote back. Tomorrow: the word was flawless, so frickin’ profound. It glowed in my dark room, floating in its silver bubble, meaning everything.
Another text. SNAP. The reason I texted! Kept wanting to tell you. Your shirt is rad. Love R.E.M. I stared into my phone. It was impossible that only an hour ago I hated this person. Here he was saying exactly everything I’d ever wanted him to say.
Cool, I wrote. I waited. Maybe he’d remember some other compliment he needed to pay me. Your breath smelled so minty. I’m glad you took off your makeup. Your wound was cute and I liked wiping your blood.
When nothing else came, I went to his contact information and changed it.
First name: NICK. Last name: ALLISON.
I looked at it a long moment before pressing save.
I’m going to kiss him, I thought.
Tomorrow.
9
My leg still hurt the next day. I peeked under my Band-Aid and nearly puked. I wondered if I should show my dad, but I didn’t want him to ask how I’d managed to acquire a wound like this in my sleep. Anyway, the little jolt of pain I felt every time I put my left foot down let me know last night was real. It wasn’t a dream.
My father was delighted to see me looking groggy. “You slept!” He was folding a mountain of laundry on the kitchen table and playing the Smiths on the stereo. I checked the clock on the stove and was shocked to see it was nearly 10:30 A.M.
“Oh. Crap.” I looked to see that he’d left me a cup of coffee. I shuffled to the fridge and found the milk. “Did you go running already?”
“Yep. I went alone. You needed sleep.” He tossed a folded towel onto one of his many piles. “So what’s on your agenda for the day?” I remembered right then that Nick said he’d text me tomorrow.
It was tomorrow.
“Oh shit,” I said, clunking down my coffee mug and running into my room. I grabbed my phone and turned it on and saw he’d already texted.
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