Let Me List the Ways

by Sarah White

  “I stand corrected.” He grabbed his backpack from the end of his bed and swung it onto his shoulders. Taking two small steps, he came to stand right in front of me. I could smell the fresh scent of his soap and see the smooth expanse of the skin on his chin where he’d shaved that morning. His fingers reached for the bottom of my shirt, his eyes falling to the hem as he tugged it lightly away from my stomach.

  “It’s a shame you didn’t realize turtlenecks were the new thing.” He shook his head a bit and then left me standing, unable to make my knees move as he touched the tip of my nose with his finger and headed downstairs to grab breakfast.

  I didn’t really understand how, after all the time that we’d spent together, Nolan could still take my breath away simply by standing close to me. I shook my head to clear it and made my way to the kitchen to find Nolan grabbing bacon without taking off his backpack. I pulled my phone from my pocket and saw that school started in ten minutes. He grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and tossed one to me also. “Did you eat breakfast?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “I got up early to finish studying.” Slipping my backpack on, I tucked the water into the side pouch and headed to the kitchen door to follow him out. He nodded and moved down the steps. We made our way along the small side area between our houses before he unlatched a gate that led us to the front of the property.

  He unlocked his truck from the passenger door like always, opening it as he took my backpack to toss into the bed. It was quickly turning to spring, so we both rolled down our windows as soon as he turned the key in the ignition. It was too early in the morning to have a conversation, so we just listened to the radio, Nolan’s hands tapping out the beat of the song on the wheel.

  Nolan’s and my mornings had become a finely honed routine. Even on the days it was clear we were going to be late to our first classes, he still made sure to wait by my locker as I exchanged books and dropped my lunch off, and then I did the same for him.

  “What article did you decide to write for this week’s paper?” he asked as his strong fingers spun the dial of the combination lock, deftly stopping at their mark before spinning in the other direction. With the loud sound of metal clanking, his hand pulled the latch up and the door swung open. He moved his backpack to his front, leaving his history book in exchange for his English text.

  “I decided to do the interview with students who have part-time jobs as refs for Little League sports teams. It should be a fun story to investigate. I have the feeling they’re going to have plenty of stories about crazy parents getting upset about the calls they make.” I smiled ruefully at Nolan but noticed that he had suddenly become distracted by the sight of a folded piece of paper lying on his books. My stomach dropped. Over the last few weeks, someone had been dropping off notes in Nolan’s locker. Someone with feminine writing. Nolan had finally confessed to me that they were from Erin, a girl in the year below us who was not only a rising star on the volleyball team, but had that kind of wholesome, girl-next-door prettiness that I, Nolan’s actual girl next door, must lack.

  Nolan didn’t notice my face fall as he smiled and grabbed the note before closing his locker. “Sounds like you’ve got another great story on your hands.” His voice was peppy and I forced myself to smile back at him.

  “Thanks, Romeo,” I teased. He chuckled and patted his back pocket, where he’d tucked the note safely away.

  “I’ll give you all the juicy details at lunch,” he said in a playful girl voice. Then when we got to my classroom door, he turned around and waved good-bye. I watched him walk down the hall, his fingers dipping into his pocket to retrieve the note.

  My friend Evan bumped my shoulder gently with his and said, “Earth to Mackenzie.” I pulled my eyes away from Nolan and gave Evan a playful shove back. I stepped farther into the classroom and sat down at my desk near the window. Sometimes I wished that correcting the feeling of jealousy were as easy as correcting my blood sugar on a good day, but it never would be.

  Three

  “HOW DID YOU think the test went?” Regan asked me after we walked out of history together.

  “Who knows?” I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and closed my locker. “I hate essay tests. Why must they torture us like that?”

  “They’re brutal. I bet I failed and UC Santa Barbara is going to rescind my college acceptance.” Regan was always worrying about failing tests even though she had maintained a perfect 4.0 average her entire high school career. “We’re eating out on the grass today.”

  “Yeah, I got the text. The barbecue gets Declan every time.” I laughed as I finished zipping up my backpack. They start cooking lunch during fourth period, and Declan’s classroom was right above the grills.

  Regan and I slowly made our way through the crowd to her locker, stopping a few times to chat with friends and let them know where we’d be sitting. I leaned against the other lockers as she got herself organized. She grabbed her lunch and slammed the locker shut, turning the dial to clear the combo. We headed out to the big tree between the math and science buildings, where many of our friends were already sitting.

  Nolan flopped down on the grass as I was opening the front pouch of my backpack to pull out the worn purple canvas bag that I always carry with me. He watched for a moment and then opened his lunch bag, pulling out his sandwich as I got everything ready. I swiped my finger with the small alcohol swab and put the test strip into the meter.

  I glanced at Nolan as my number popped up on the screen a few seconds later. He reached inside his bag and pulled out a cold diet soda and a few Hershey’s Kisses, which he set in front of me. I gave him a small smile in gratitude as I added a few more carbs to my total lunch count. There were days when my numbers were very high that he’d leave the Hershey’s Kisses at the bottom of the bag. He didn’t make a big deal over it or even let on at all that they were in there, just ignored them and shoved the entire bag into the trash when our time was over.

  I wore my insulin pump in a soft belt around my waist, but I could control it from the meter I used to check my blood glucose. I gave myself enough insulin for the contents of my lunch and then tucked the meter back inside my kit and brought my sandwich to my mouth.

  “I heard you have a secret admirer,” Nisha sang playfully.

  Nolan swallowed his bite and nodded. “She’s not a secret.” I noticed the way his lips curled up slightly as I tried to swallow down the tiny lump in my throat.

  Nisha rolled her eyes. “Well, that takes the fun out of it.”

  “Sorry,” Nolan replied. “You know I don’t keep anything from Zie.” He reached over and gave me a playful push.

  I cocked an eyebrow as I told him, “And you should know I don’t tell everyone your business.”

  “She’s no fun either,” Nisha complained. “I tried asking her about it all week. She won’t spill the beans.”

  “Maybe because it’s not your business,” Declan pointed out as he tossed a Frito at her.

  Nolan quickly jumped in. “Erin and I are just talking.” He shrugged casually. “I don’t think it’s a big deal.”

  “Why doesn’t she just text you?” Declan asked as he tipped the chip bag up and poured the rest into his mouth.

  “I guess her mom reads everything she does on her phone.” Nolan cracked open his soda and took a long sip.

  “What is she writing that she doesn’t want her mom to see? And do you write her back?” Nisha asked as she leaned in closer, her eyes wide with curiosity.

  “Jesus, Nisha. Simmer down,” Declan playfully scolded. I watched the interaction like a spectator at a tennis match. Declan and Nisha were legendary for getting into fights at the drop of a hat and then passionately making up five minutes later. Half our friend group thought they were going to get married and the other half was worried they would kill each other.

  “I’m not much of a writer—I write her back, but my responses are more memos than novels,” Nolan answered. “And she just writes random stuff.” He look
ed over at me as if I could elaborate.

  I shrugged at him, then set my sandwich down on my bag and pulled the water from my backpack. From what Nolan had told me, it sounded like she mostly wrote to him about what she did the day before, what her plans were for the weekend, and how much she was looking forward to the class they have together. It wasn’t exactly scandalous, but it was enough to get the little green monster inside me growing and trying to scratch its way to the surface.

  When the identity of the author was known to only Nolan and me, it seemed contained. Now that our friends were finding out, it made it feel more real.

  “Well, I think that sounds romantic,” Regan said. “I would love it if some girl was leaving notes in my locker. It’s like something that would happen fifty years ago.”

  Nolan pulled the note out of his pocket and flipped it between his fingers. Then he let it rest on his flat palm. Nisha reached for the small folded paper, but he curled his fingers around it and pulled his hand away before she could snatch it. “There’s nothing in them you need to read.” Nolan and Declan both chuckled at Nisha’s squinted eyes. I tried to hide my amusement too. Nisha’s eyes moved to mine immediately.

  Nolan followed her gaze to my face and then shook his head. “She just proved she keeps all my secrets.”

  “But we have the Girl Code,” Nisha proclaimed assuredly.

  Nolan considered it for a moment but then tucked the note into the pocket of my jeans. “I’ll take my chances. Now tell me about your game,” he commanded right before shoving the rest of his sandwich in his mouth, the subject effectively changed.

  Nisha perked right up, forgetting all about her quest for Nolan gossip. “We are going to kill them.” Since our school’s varsity softball team was undefeated this season, she was right to be confident.

  “How’s your pitch count?” Nolan rubbed his shoulder and I wondered if it was an unconscious movement or something he was aware he was doing. Was it hurting him again?

  “I’m good. I probably won’t pitch this game since Coach will want to use me against South.”

  I listened as the four of them talked about the season and the games that were coming up, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the letter in my pocket. I let my gaze drift across the field, taking in all the other students as they ate and talked in their groups. Before I knew it, the bell rang, letting us know it was time to pack up our lunches and get back to class.

  Nisha and Declan headed off together in the direction of their shared fifth-period history class while Regan dashed off to math. Nolan turned to me with a smile and said, “Do you have a minute to read that letter for me? I want your advice.”

  “Sure,” I answered, although I felt anything but sure.

  I unfolded the letter, taking a minute to flatten it out and slow the jittery feeling that had taken over my stomach. I read her words on the paper, saying everything I wished I could say to him. Flirty little comments about how cute he was and how fun it was to sit by him in class. I hated the small heart she put before her signature and I hated that she was actually too nice of a girl to really hate at all. But it was the words at the bottom of the page that made my stomach turn. She asked why he and I had never dated. The thought of him writing an answer down, making it clear he had no interest in me, made my heart hurt, but I tried not to let it show.

  As I folded the letter back up again, I could see the small tremble in my hand and wondered if it was from my blood sugar dropping or the letter I was holding. Nolan seemed to notice it too, and he took the note and handed me some cookies from his lunch. “Twelve each,” he said automatically, to which I nodded and gratefully accepted them. Twelve meant the number of carbs each cookie contained. Nolan spoke my language.

  “Should I take her out?” he asked.

  I popped a cookie in my mouth to save myself from having to speak. Instead I nodded before reminding myself that I had to work on being a better friend when it came to this kind of stuff. I swallowed the cookie and forced myself to give him the advice I’d give a friend like Evan or Declan. “You should take her to the new restaurant that opened up outside the movie theater. I heard the food is pretty good and it would be easy to grab a bite to eat before a movie.” There. I’d offered friendly advice. It almost killed me, but I threw it out there.

  “Okay. I’ll ask her out for Saturday since you and I have a date planned for Friday night. Above-average men in football uniforms, right, Sugar?” A giggle bubbled up and I felt relieved that he wouldn’t be missing our night together to go on a date with someone else.

  “Five bucks says my mom gets drunk before nine thirty.” It was a bet I couldn’t lose. Nolan extended his hand to mine and gave it a little shake.

  “It’s a sucker’s bet, but I’m in.” The bell rang loud again and we both scrambled to our feet. We were late. We didn’t have to separate again; our last three classes were together. If I didn’t think about the weekend, I could almost pretend everything was normal. Almost.

  Four

  NOLAN PAUSED THE movie and we listened to the screeching sound coming from downstairs. “What time is it?” he asked, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone.

  “It can’t even be nine yet,” I laughed, turning my face so I could see the bright screen of his phone as he held it above us: 8:53. “That was a fast five bucks!” My mom’s drunken laugh rang out again and both of us erupted in our own laughter. My mom was normally very serious. She worked at a bank in town part time and always followed every rule ever written. But once a month, when our parents got together for a game night, she and Nolan’s mom would have a few glasses of wine and my mom would forget about all of them.

  “Wait for it; my mom’s own cackle isn’t going to be far behind.” His voice was laced with humor, and I bit my bottom lip, trying to hold in a laugh. Sure enough, within seconds we heard her laughter mix with my mom’s, followed quickly by the deep male voices of our dads trying to warn the women they might want to slow down. They could warn all they wanted; our moms wouldn’t listen, and they knew our dads enjoyed their buzz as much as they did.

  “Should we go get a snack?” I asked, pushing myself up on my palms. Nolan’s phone chimed. I moved off the bed and to my feet as he shifted and slid his phone into his pocket. He followed me down the stairs into the kitchen, and my dad rolled his eyes when he saw Nolan and me exchange knowing looks over the box of instant popcorn. “They haven’t had that much,” my dad said unconvincingly as I opened the plastic wrapping and popped the bag into the microwave.

  “Just getting a snack,” Nolan replied with equal conviction.

  “Mackenzie, your hair is getting so long,” Mrs. Walker said, resting her chin on her hand as if her head had suddenly grown too heavy to hold up on just her neck. “It’s very pretty. You’re growing up to be such a beautiful woman.” She patted my mom’s hand and gave her a smile.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Walker,” I said, turning red. I could hear the quick pop of the popcorn in the microwave as all the eyes seemed to move to me.

  “Nolan,” she continued, “don’t you think she’s getting so beautiful? She’s always been pretty, but there is just something about growing up that she seems to be doing so well.” I grew redder as Nolan took me in. His eyes moved from my bare feet, slowly up my legs, and then up farther, until they met my own.

  “Yeah, Mom, she’s beautiful.” He gave me a small smile before pulling the microwave door open and retrieving the bag of popcorn. I felt a totally different kind of warmth flood me as I replayed his words in my head, but almost immediately, any feelings of happiness were washed away by what my dad said next.

  “You guys are practically siblings,” he said, pulling a long sip from his beer. Nolan nudged me with his elbow and lifted his chin toward the stairs, signaling to me to head back to our movie. He seemed completely unbothered by what my dad had just said. As I waved to our parents and made my way up the stairs to my room, my heart felt heavy with the knowledge that everyone, including Nolan, saw
us that way. Maybe it was because we had known each other for so long. I’d never regret our friendship and the years of happiness and support it had provided me, but if I was honest, in some small moments, I wished Nolan and I had met on different terms. Maybe if I had just sat next to him sometime in a high school class, our relationship could have been different.

  I sat on the edge of my bed as Nolan opened the bag of popcorn and gave it a little shake to let the steam out as I quickly tested myself. He set the popcorn down on my desk and took a seat next to me.

  “We should hurry up and start the movie again,” he whispered playfully. “I don’t want you to miss a minute of Channing in those tight pants, and I know you’re going to be asleep long before it’s over.” I nodded and reached for the remote, drowning out the happy sound of our moms laughing with the soundtrack of the movie I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus on. Instead I would be playing the scene downstairs over and over again in my head, trying to figure out whether he really meant it when he said I was beautiful, and wondering if I would ever be brave enough to just ask him.

  Five

  IT WAS A beautiful day down at the Little League field. The sun was up, but the grass was still wet with morning dew when I pulled up behind the snack stand, careful not to park where the foul balls could hit my mom’s car. I didn’t see Eduardo yet, but the first game on the major field was not set to start for another thirty minutes. I grabbed my notebook and began to flip through the pages so I could find an empty one to take notes for my school paper assignment.

  I flipped past the week’s history notes and stopped when I found the familiar penmanship of my best friend. The list was titled TOP TEN REASONS NOLAN WILL NEVER WEAR TIGHTS. His title alone already had me laughing, and I could only guess that he’d written it after I fell asleep last night. Unfortunately I didn’t have time to read the list because Eduardo tapped on my window and I unlocked the doors so he could slip inside and answer my questions.