by James Ramos
Chapter 30
After the performance my parents insisted on us all going out to eat to celebrate. Naturally, we ended up at IHOP.
“My boy deserves an Oscar,” said Uncle Gardiner as he sipped at his coffee.
“You mean a Tony,” said Aunt Gardiner as she spread butter over a stack of pancakes.
“Who’s Tony?” asked my mom.
“It’s the Broadway version of an Oscar,” explained Dad.
“Seeing as it was a play, not a movie,” added Aunt Gardiner, who was now drizzling syrup over her plate.
Uncle Gardiner leaned back and added more sugar to his coffee. “Oh.”
I gave a knowing look to Jake, who was nestled between his parents, and he shook his head before popping another piece of bacon in his mouth.
“Elliott, you haven’t touched your plate,” said my mom.
I tapped my plate with my finger.
“Very funny. Are you sick?”
I shook my head. “I’m not all that hungry right now.”
“Well, it’s a lucky thing we’re at a restaurant then, isn’t it?” said Dad.
Jake gave me the “what’s wrong” face, and I shook my head again. The better question was, “what’s right?” And the answer was, basically nothing.
* * *
The next day was the worst. I lay awake long after my alarm went off, staring up at the ceiling. I’d had another Darcy dream. This time I was chasing her, and she kept running from me, and no matter how much I pleaded with her, she wouldn’t stop.
Not a good sign.
I turned my head and saw the poster hanging on the wall next to my closet; Ten Things Star Wars Taught Me. I read the first entry.
Do or do not. There is no try.
Master Yoda was right. I had screwed up. Royally. Now, I could either fix it or do nothing. Either way, I wasn’t doing any good sitting here wallowing in my feelings. And it felt icky.
I read the next quote. The truth sometimes depends on our point of view.
Obi Wan Kenobi said that. Sort of. Reading that quote always made me frown a little, because it wasn’t verbatim. Still, the point was valid. What type of person Darcy was depended heavily on who one asked. To Bridget, she was the best friend anyone could ever hope to have. To Gabby, she was the worst. Different point of view, different person.
But what was she to me?
Darcy defied categorization. Just when I thought I’d figured her out, she changed. I wasn’t used to that. But I liked it. She was unpredictable. And she was smart, and in her own weird way she was funny, and she could be thoughtful when she wanted to be. Not to mention her strange habit of becoming slightly more attractive each time I saw her.
And I liked her. That much was clear to me now. I liked everything about her. I liked the way she chewed her lip when she was thinking about something and the way her brows pulled together whenever I said something she didn’t understand. I liked that impish grin she got when she thought she was being clever. I liked that are-you-serious look she gave people when they’d done something ridiculous. I liked her hair, her eyes, her skin, her scent. I’d never liked a girl the way I liked Darcy. It was almost more than—
Wait a second. Was I in love with Darcy?
All signs pointed to yes. Thinking her name was enough to make my heart flip. Picturing her with anyone else made me sick to my stomach. Knowing that I had hurt her—in all likelihood destroying whatever feelings she had for me in the process—was more painful than anything I’d ever felt. It was even worse than the time I broke my arm in two places jumping off the roof when I was ten, which until now had been the benchmark for me as far as painful experiences went. I wanted to fix things, for her sake, not mine.
But could I?
Another glance at my poster. The fourth quote was Han Solo’s.
Never tell me the odds.
Han had a point. Odds meant nothing. Odds were Darcy hated my guts. That would make sense. Darcy was sensible. But she might not. She had been polite at the play, to me and my friends. She hadn’t needed to be. She hadn’t needed to show up at all. But she had. Maybe that counted for something.
I looked at the poster one more time, hoping for another helpful tidbit of advice.
Be careful who you make out with.
Nice. No worries in that department. Darcy was most definitely not some long-lost sister. And I highly doubted I’d be making out with her any time soon. But, the thought of it made my pulse stagger.
I crawled out of bed, suddenly anxious to get to school.
Mom was already in the kitchen, dressed in her I’m-going-to-be-out-all-day clothes. “Good morning, sweetheart—gracious, when’s the last time you shaved?”
I ran a hand across my prickly jaw. It had only been two days. “Nice to see you, too.”
Dad came into the kitchen wearing his version of Mom’s outfit. “Morning, Elliott. Out of razors, I presume?”
“What are you doing here?”
He chuckled. “You mean what am I doing in my own house?”
“Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Took the day off,” he announced proudly. “First time in a long time, too.”
I fished a box of cereal from the pantry. “I’m going for the caveman look. It’s all the rage these days.”
“Just as long as you don’t adopt the caveman intellect,” Dad said dryly.
Mom reached over and gave my face a squeeze. “You shouldn’t hide that handsome face under all that fuzz.”
“Yeah, right.” Did Darcy think I had a handsome face?
“We’re going to Tempe Marketplace.” Mom said excitedly.
“Why are you going there?”
“Sunbathing,” Mom said with a straight face. “Honestly, Elliott, why do people typically go to marketplaces?”
Dad chuckled. “Honey, it’s early and he’s a teenager, let’s not confuse the boy.”
“Maybe all that hair is weighing your brain down. You should get a haircut, sweetie.”
Did Darcy like my hair? “You guys want to critique my wardrobe, while you’re at it?”
“Now that you mention it,” said Mom, “wearing Star Wars every day is a tiny bit juvenile. What do you think a lady sees when a boy wears cartoons all the time?”
“A guy who wears cartoons all the time.” I suddenly wondered what Darcy’s exact opinion was as far as my clothes.
“That’s sure to earn you plenty of respect,” Dad said through a chuckle.
“What witty old people you are this morning. Don’t the two of you have somewhere to be?”
Once my parents were gone I rushed to the bathroom, where I quickly showered and shaved. I had no choice but to acknowledge a terrible truth: liking Darcy—or being in love with her, which I was becoming more and more sure was what I actually felt—was changing me. She had become the center of my tiny universe. Everything tied to her, even things I knew had absolutely nothing to do with her.
Like what I wore, for instance. She’d noticed my shirts before. She’d even asked about them. Not that it meant she cared. People I ran into at the mall asked me about my shirts. That just happened when everything you wore had some obscure sci-fi and/or pop culture reference.
But today was different. I opened all my dresser drawers and stared at them. Putting clothes on wasn’t supposed to be difficult. Heck, putting clothes on was the easiest thing I did all day. Pick a shirt I hadn’t worn the day before, throw on whatever pants weren’t dirty—or were the least dirty—and slip on whichever shoes I found first. But now, I was standing around in my boxers because I couldn’t decide what to wear.
Weird.
I shuffled through my shirts, one by one by one, and over and over again I saw the same things. A Rancor, the USS Enterprise, Darth Vader, Klingons, Vulcans, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Captain Benjamin Sisko . . .
I found a black shirt nestled at the very bottom of the lowest dresser. I yanked it out, and for a mo
ment I hoped it was untainted by geekdom. That hope was quickly smashed to bits when I unfolded the shirt, only to be greeted with the face of Captain Malcolm Reynolds and the rest of the crew of Serenity.
I groaned and pulled the shirt over my head. It would have to do. I picked up a pair of khaki pants and caught myself wondering if maybe they were too wrinkly.
I was becoming my father.
I threw the pants on and left. Before I hit the stairs I stopped, backpedaled, and went back to the bathroom, where I spent an unheard of two minutes messing with my hair.
Darcy’s reach didn’t end with my clothes. All the way to the bus stop I was plagued. How am I walking? Does Darcy like how I walk? Maybe I should stop slouching. Maybe I should start working out. How’s my breath? I need mints. Is there anything in my teeth? What if there is? I shouldn’t talk or breathe too hard. Does she like my smile? Is my face too oily? Man, I need chapstick—
“Ow.”
I bumped into something semi-rigid. It was Jake.
“Not enough sidewalk for you?” he asked.
“Sorry.”
He shrugged casually.
Lucas caught up with us, huffing and laughing. “Bro, my alarm clock? Totally betrayed me. Whoa, Elliott, what’s up with your hair?”
I spent the bus ride formulating something to say to Darcy. We got to school, and I still had come up with nothing. But before I could start looking for Darcy, I was intercepted by Christian, who was waiting by the front doors to the main building. “Elliott, I’ve been looking for you. Might I have a word in my office?”
“You mean the bullpen?”
“That’s what I said.”
I was too worked up to point out that the bullpen was in no way his office. “As long as it’s quick.”
“Why? Do you have something important to do?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
He scrutinized me, but then led the way back to the media center.
The office was empty. Christian took a seat behind the editor’s desk, his face lit by the glow of the laptop screen in front of him. He gestured lazily to the door. “Close that. Come in, please, and have a seat.”
Frowning, I closed the door, but I didn’t take the seat at the desk. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be that close to him. “Does this have anything to do with my work?” I asked. I’d suspected he wasn’t done nitpicking, and I was ready to defend my work again. But to my surprise, he shook his head.
“No, of course not. Your work has always been acceptable,” he said, but it sounded like he meant the exact opposite. At last he closed the laptop and focused his eyes on me, clasping his hands sternly in front of him. “I’ve been hearing things, Elliott. Rumors. Untrue though they may be, I’d feel much more comfortable hearing them denounced from the horse’s mouth, as it were.”
I fought the urge to tug at my wristband. I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing I was nervous. “What kind of rumors?”
He shook his head and massaged his temples, as if what he was about to say was too much. “I’ve heard it said—speculated, rather—that you and Darcy are . . . an item. A ridiculous notion even to you, I’m sure. But my inner journalist compels me to personally hear it denied from the source. You understand?”
I gritted my teeth. “Actually I’m not sure I do.”
Christian sat up straight in his chair, his eyes flashing with indignation. “Answer the question, Elliott. Are you and Darcy dating or not?”
I gave him a perfectly patronizing smile. “I’m really not sure that’s any of your business, Chris.”
“It is absolutely—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed, making his Adam’s apple bob like a lure at the end of a fishing line as he struggled to recompose himself. “It is absolutely my business. Darcy is my friend, a friend I have taken it upon myself to look out for. Believe me when I say this; the two of you are not fit for each other. Your dating her—or even entertaining the thought of dating her—when she has so many more reasonable options is selfish. That much should be obvious, even to someone like you.”
“What exactly does that mean?” I demanded. Now I was getting angry. Who the heck did Christin think he was?
“You’re a smart guy, Elliott. Don’t get me wrong. But you’ve always had trouble with the big picture. We’re about to graduate, and when we do, we all go our separate ways, and for some of us, that means going on to bigger and better things. But for most of us, it’s the beginning of what’s going to amount to an average life. Very few of us are special enough to make any real impact on anyone or anything in the real world, but Darcy is one of those special people. My brother is one of those special people. But you . . .” He leaned back in his chair and slowly shook his head. “Let’s be honest here. I think we both know that’s not what you are. All you could do is hold her back. Don’t you see that? Now please, give me your word that you will not—for any reason—pursue a relationship with Darcy.”
For a moment my mouth wouldn’t move. I could feel my blood pumping in my head. All I could see was red. I had never in my life wanted to hit someone so badly. My hands curled into fists, and I imagined what it would feel like to slam one of them in to Christian’s arrogant little jaw. But then a new thought hit me, one so powerful that it washed all my anger away.
If word was getting around about Darcy still having feelings for me, than maybe, just maybe, there was truth to it.
Christian cleared his throat. “Well?” he said impatiently.
I turned and marched to the door, but I stopped with my hand on the knob. “You know what is obvious, Christian? It’s obvious that you don’t really care about Darcy. You make all these plans for her without ever asking or thinking about what she wants. But you know something? I’m not like you. I do care about Darcy. So no, Christian, we’re not dating. But that doesn’t mean she’ll ever go out with your snot-nosed brother, and for her sake I hope she never does.”
I watched in satisfaction as his jaw fell to the floor, and then I turned and left, slamming the door after me.
Once I was free of Christian I started into the hallways like a bloodhound, inspecting every face I passed. If she was here, I would find her. And, though it would take every iota of my humility, I would apologize to her. I would grovel, beg her on hands and knees if need be, to forgive me, and I could not know peace until it was done. Every black head of hair caught my eye.
Ironically enough, Liam was the first person I ran into. “Have you seen Darcy?”
“Why would you be looking for Darcy?” he asked as he slammed his locker shut.
“No reason,” I lied. “Hey, how are things between you and . . . you-know-who?”
He shrugged. “We’re done.”
“Wait, done, done?”
“Yep, I’m free and clear. Apparently she prefers Kevin ‘the King’.”
“Who?”
“Some six-foot-three basketball god who’s got a face carved from marble and abs to match. Her words, not mine.”
My first reaction was that Liam was doing the same thing Jake had done when Bridget had dumped him. Pretending he didn’t care. Because he didn’t seem upset about it in the slightest. In fact he seemed almost happy about it. I had long given up pretending to be mad at Liam, but I knew the normal reaction would be happiness that he had got what was coming to him, and I knew that normally a part of me would relish it. But I was not in a normal mood, and instead, I felt something else: understanding. Because I knew how he felt.
“Listen, Liam, I’m really sorry. I mean that.”
I used to think that things like relationships were a waste of time. I thought they weren’t worth the trouble or the complications they could cause. But now, I knew differently, I understood that sometimes all that risk could pay off, and that sometimes you could find someone that made it all worth it. And I was sorry that Liam had not found that with Gabby.
He looked at me, and I saw that he had expected me to react the norm
al way. “Wait, What?”
“Seriously, that sucks. And I’m sorry it happened. But what about the, um, picture?”
“Oh, that.” Liam waved away my question. “That’s old news, dead and gone. It’s weird what happened. A couple days ago she calls me up and apologizes. Profusely, mind you. She begs me not to press charges and to call off the lawyers. She even offers to pay me back all the money. I don’t even know any lawyers. But I’m not about to tell her that. So that’s it. We’re done, I’m not broke anymore, and I’m back on the market, so if you have anyone you could put a good word in for me with, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, but I was hardly listening to him, because even though he had no idea what had brought on Gabby’s sudden change of heart, I knew exactly what had. Or, rather, who had.
“Thanks, Elliott,” he called as I hurried off to continue my search.
Kyle and Lucas were hanging out by the foyer when I caught up with them. “You’ll never guess what happened to Liam,” said Lucas when he saw me.
“I would, actually. I just talked to him. Have either of you seen—”
“If you’re looking for your girlfriend,” said Kyle, “she isn’t here. But you can ask Bridget about her.”
I tried to frown, but it faltered. “Bridget’s here? And what do you mean, girlfriend?”
“Sure, why wouldn’t she be?” said Kyle casually. “And don’t act surprised, dude, it’s stupidly obvious that the two of you dig each other.”
I glared at Lucas, who held his hands up in innocence. “Hey, I didn’t say a word, although this pretty much confirms it.” I redirected my glare to Nicole, but she frantically shook her head.
I didn’t have time to argue. “Whatever. Catch you guys later.”
I hurried off, Lucas calling, “Go get her!” behind me.
Bridget was the key. Wherever she was, I was sure Darcy would be close.
If I were Bridget, where would I be? I wondered to myself. Somewhere where there were a lot of people. I’d just come from building one. I rushed to building two and did a quick search. Nothing.