Moment of Truth

by Kasie West

  That wasn’t a bad idea. It wasn’t really a good idea either. Because if Robert wasn’t Heath Hall, then I’d be stuck at the movies with Robert.

  “How about we both go to the bridge, and while we’re watching Heath Hall, I call Robert on the phone.”

  “Yes. Brilliant. Then you don’t actually have to go out with the loser.”

  She pulled up in front of my house. “I will sit here for five more minutes and face the wrath of my mother for one more story.”

  I wanted to talk about the Jackson/Eric connection that was still plaguing me. I hadn’t told her before and now I was regretting it. But that would take more than five minutes. I needed her full attention and her advice and I wanted to be able to vent for as long as I needed. So I settled for the other story I hadn’t told her yet. “When you abandoned me at school the other day, Jackson drove me home.”

  “Home? Here?”

  “No, one of my other five homes. Yes, of course here.”

  “So you had to tell him the story of the truck?” How was that the first thing she thought of when it didn’t even cross my mind until we were almost to my house? Maybe because I saw it every day and it was as common to me as the grass or the driveway or the mailbox.

  “That’s the thing. I didn’t have to tell him. He just assumed it was my dad’s and I let him.”

  “Wait, he doesn’t know about your brother?”

  “I guess not.”

  “You don’t think that’s going to be weird when he’s talking to your dad and it comes up?”

  “Why would he be talking to my dad?”

  “I don’t know. Why did he talk to your dad before?”

  I groaned.

  “It’ll be fine. Just tell him . . . or don’t. It’s not like you’re friends. Now, out of my car. Aunt Faye awaits.”

  “Have you asked your mom about the bungee jump event? You’re going to be able to come, right?”

  “I will be there. Even if I have to bring my aunt with me.”

  Seventeen

  I brought my headphones to the meet this time. But no matter how loud the music was, as I sat on the cold cement bench, elbows on my knees, I couldn’t block out the fact that Jackson and my dad were sitting in the stands together. Why was he at the swim meet anyway? I scanned the group of guys warming up for the next race. Was one of his friends on the swim team?

  He was going to ask about the truck. My dad was going to tell him about my brother. Then my dad would think I was ashamed to talk about it or too sad to tell the story. And Jackson would think I was a liar. It didn’t matter. Amelia was right. Even if Jackson wanted to be, we weren’t friends.

  I concentrated on the ground beneath my feet. I couldn’t think about this right now. I had a race to swim. My last one. Of the entire season. And I was going to be distracted. I clasped my hands behind my head, my forearms pushing my earphones in even more.

  A hand on my shoulder had me sitting up straight. It was DJ, saying something I couldn’t hear. I turned off my player.

  “What?”

  “Are your shoulders okay? You look like you’re in pain.”

  They were killing me. “No. I mean, yes, they’re fine. I’m just trying to get in the zone.”

  “You don’t want to ice them for a little while? You probably have twenty minutes before you need to warm up for your next swim.”

  “Yes, I should go sit in the office for a little while.” Out of sight, out of mind. That’s how I hoped it would work.

  He walked with me toward the building. “You’ve been swimming great today.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re definitely on track for a scholarship.”

  “I hope so.”

  We arrived at the office, and he strapped a bag of ice onto each shoulder. The cold seeped into my skin and I relaxed a bit.

  “I guess they were tighter than I thought. Thank you, DJ . . . DJ . . . What does that stand for?” I laid my cheek on one of my shoulders, letting the ice cool my cheeks that seemed to be a little warm now too.

  “Let’s just say that I go by DJ for a reason.”

  “A name you don’t like, then? If I guess, will you tell me?”

  “You won’t guess.”

  “Dwayne?”

  “Did someone tell you?”

  “No. Is that it? Did I really guess it on the first try?”

  “Someone told you.”

  “No, I swear.”

  He shook his head with a smile. “You’re just good at everything you do, huh?”

  The ice didn’t keep my cheeks from blushing.

  “It’s my father’s name and his father’s.”

  “And what about the J?”

  “I’m sure you already know that one too.”

  “I don’t,” I said.

  “Jeremy.”

  “Dwayne Jeremy. It kind of rolls off the tongue.”

  He laughed. “Right? It really doesn’t. That’s why I’ve gone by DJ forever.”

  “Well, your secret is safe with me.”

  He held my eyes for a moment, like I’d said something significant. Had I?

  His gaze dropped to the floor, and he changed the subject. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as wound up before a race as you were a few minutes ago.”

  “Just a little distracted.” And I thought I’d be less distracted away from everything, but back here I was worried I’d miss the race. “I better get out there.”

  We walked side by side to the pool. My gaze immediately went to the stands. Not only was Jackson still sitting by my dad, who was laughing, but on his other side was my mom. I thought she’d left after my first two races but she was back in her seat, no phone in sight, full attention on Jackson. They looked like a perfect little family. It was like I’d been transported back twenty years and was getting a glimpse of exactly what it had been like. What they’d lost.

  “You okay?”

  I was gripping DJ’s arm. He might’ve been the only thing keeping me upright. “I’m fine. Good. Perfect.”

  Where was Amelia? I needed Amelia. I scanned the deck and saw her sitting on the side, staring at me . . . and DJ. I dropped his arm. “Thanks for the ice,” I said, then made my way to her, weaving through Speedo-clad guys and coaches holding clipboards. When I reached her, I sat down with a sigh.

  “I didn’t realize your shoulders were bothering you.”

  “Yeah.”

  She poked at the ice. “Or did you just need an excuse to see DJ?”

  “What? No. I needed to get out of here. Do you see my parents?”

  She looked. “What about them?”

  “That’s Jackson.”

  “Oh yeah. It is. Weird.”

  “What if my dad tells him about my brother? The truck?”

  She shrugged. “Then you wouldn’t have to.”

  “Don’t you think my parents look happy up there?”

  “Your parents always look happy.”

  She wasn’t getting it. Not that she should’ve. I hadn’t filled her in on what my dad had said. But seeing her reaction made me think that maybe I was overreacting. Yes, I was overreacting. Especially right now, before a race, before the relay where three other girls would be depending on me to have my head on straight.

  “Do you like DJ?”

  I ripped my gaze away from my parents. “What?”

  “DJ. Do you like him?”

  I shook my head. “No. Not at all. You still like him, right?”

  “Yes. A lot. And I really don’t want to have to compete against you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I mean, every boy you give the tiniest amount of attention to falls at your feet.”

  That was so untrue, I didn’t even know where it was coming from. “Like who?”

  “DJ.”

  “He was just icing my shoulders.”

  “Robert.” She pointed to the stands and I looked up and saw that he too was up there, watching the meet. He wasn’t here for me. Lu
ke was on the swim team. He was here for Luke.

  “He broke up with me, in case you forgot.”

  “Jackson.”

  “The guy who is single-handedly trying to drive me crazy?”

  “Heath Hall.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Heath Hall? He’s not even real.” I took her by the shoulders. “Amelia, if those are your only examples, then I reject your statement. None of those guys are anywhere close to falling at my feet.” I looked her straight in the eyes. “I promise I don’t like DJ. He’s all yours.”

  She smiled and hugged me. “I’m sorry. I just get so jealous.”

  “I know.”

  She shoved me away with a laugh. “You love me anyway.”

  “Always.”

  A whistle blew by the timing table. “Let’s get your shoulder pads off. It’s time to swim a relay.”

  Amelia swam the best relay of her life. I swam the worst of mine.

  Eighteen

  I tried to forget about the awful swim. About the way everyone congratulated me like it wasn’t an awful swim. About how Coach didn’t even mention it. About how my shoulders hurt so bad that I feared I wouldn’t be able to swim for a week. It was over. The season was over. There was nothing I could do about it now, so I wasn’t going to dwell on it.

  I was also trying to avoid my parents. I didn’t need to hear from Mom that she agreed with my dad about Jackson. So I shrugged off an after-swim celebration, claiming exhaustion, and had been holed up in my room ever since.

  Now I was showered and dressed, with ten minutes to spare before Amelia picked me up for the Heath Hall event. And even though he wasn’t real, as I had stated very confidently to Amelia earlier that day, and even though he was probably already on his way to the bridge, I found myself on the computer again typing out a message.

  Good luck tonight.

  I was surprised when he quickly replied, Are you going?

  Of course.

  It’s nice to have support when facing fears.

  So this was about a fear. He was afraid to bungee jump. Don’t you always? It seems like these things are pretty packed.

  Not always. Sometimes it’s something that needs to be done alone.

  I wondered what things he had to face alone. Do you still wear the mask even when nobody is there to watch?

  There’s power in the mask.

  Like Dumbo’s black feather?

  Yes, but a lot hotter.

  Do you mean temperature wise or looks wise?

  You tell me.

  Hmm. Not sure I find rubber masks appealing.

  Now you’re just trying to hurt my feelings.

  I smiled. Is the mask now a part of you?

  He’s a part of all of us.

  You’re a dork.

  There was a pause. One that made me regret calling him that.

  What happened today? he asked.

  I analyzed that question. Was he just asking me about my day? Was he asking about the swim meet? He was there, then? Someone on the swim team? No, him jumping into the pool with the mask on didn’t support that. I tried to remember who’d been at the meet but could only remember a few people. Jackson. Robert.

  I choked, I responded.

  Why?

  It was my turn to pause. There were so many reasons. Talking to DJ. Amelia grilling me. My parents. Jackson. My shoulders. I let too much in. I should’ve kept the headphones on like I had planned. Stared at the pool. Shut it all out. Kept my walls up. I got distracted.

  I can’t always be perfect.

  Before he could respond, Amelia honked her horn out front and I quickly typed, See you later, and shut the laptop. On my way out the door I grabbed a sweatshirt. It was supposed to get cold once the sun went down.

  The bridge was even more crowded than the museum. Partly because people unrelated to the Heath Hall thing were there to jump and support their friends and partly because of Heath Hall. We’d been there awhile and the Heath Hall crowd was getting a little antsy—constantly looking toward the parking lot, their watches, their phones. I tugged on my hood because I was cold.

  Amelia hooked her arm in mine and said, “I know you don’t do sugar, but I want hot chocolate.” We headed toward the concession carts that had become part of the scenery after bungee jumping off the bridge was taken over by Just Jump.

  “When are you going to call Robert?” she asked.

  “I should probably wait until we see Heath Hall come out. Maybe when he’s jumping. That way I can hear his voice and see Heath at the same time.”

  She stopped, making us both stop. “Oh no. I want kettle corn instead.”

  “Why?” But right as I said that, I saw why she’d changed her mind. Jackson stood in the hot chocolate line. Irritation surged through me. He was one of the reasons I swam so badly earlier. His need to hang out with my parents had distracted me. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that, though. I swallowed my irritation to prove I could ignore Jackson.

  “No, it’s fine. You can still get hot chocolate.”

  “You sure?”

  I nodded. “Guess we can mark him off the Who Is Heath Hall list.”

  “He was never on it.”

  “He was my top suspect,” I said as a joke. He wasn’t my top, but he had entered my mind. He seemed like the right personality. The prankster type.

  “Hi, Jackson,” she said when we arrived in line behind him.

  “Amelia. Moore.”

  “Why do you call me by my first name and Hadley by her last name?” I should’ve told Amelia we were ignoring him. But her question was one I was curious to know the answer to as well. I’d just assumed he called everyone by their last names, but hearing him greet us together like that made it stand out.

  “Because Moore is a last-name kind of girl.” Somehow he made even that sound like a joke.

  “What does that mean?” I asked. Apparently, I couldn’t ignore him.

  “I know what he means,” Amelia said.

  “You do?” I asked.

  “In sports they generally refer to people by their last names. And you are the epitome of a sports girl.”

  I looked back to Jackson to see if Amelia’s analysis was right.

  “You are that,” he said, but that response didn’t really confirm her theory.

  Amelia seemed to think it did and beamed. “See?”

  He reached the front of the line and ordered three hot chocolates. Then he turned around and handed one to Amelia and one to me.

  “Thank you, Jackson,” Amelia said, wrapping both hands around her cup.

  I took the cup, not wanting to be rude. Maybe avoiding sugar didn’t matter anyway; the season was over. And even after all my sacrifices, it had ended poorly.

  “Technically, Moore, you owe me, seeing as how I beat you in that swim competition at Sarah’s. But I’m not a sore winner, so this is my prize to you.”

  Would. Not. React. I raised the cup with a smile of acknowledgment.

  We walked toward an open spot, weaving around camping chairs and blankets spread out on the dirt bank running perpendicular to the bridge as if this was some rock concert or fireworks show.

  “Maybe we should have another friendly wager tonight.” Jackson nodded toward the bridge. “Let you win back some of your pride. Should we see who can jump the farthest?”

  Just Jump had set up a measuring pole for the “competitors at heart.” The pole was attached to the railing, extending straight out from the bridge, and they kept records of the people with the ten farthest leaps.

  Amelia looked up at the leaderboard with his mention of a competition. “Hey, you’re number three.”

  My eyes went to the board as well, and sure enough, J. Holt was in the number three spot, which of course made me want to strap on some gear and go charging off the bridge.

  “Is that from tonight?” Amelia asked.

  “Last summer. Think you can beat me, Moore?”

  This time I was going to ignore the desi
re. “I would, but you probably cheated.”

  He gave a small chuckle.

  “Why were you hanging out with Hadley’s parents today?” Amelia asked.

  I shot her a hard look.

  “They seem to like me. I can’t help that I’m so likable.” He met my eyes as if challenging me to contradict him. I couldn’t this time. Even though I had avoided my parents so they couldn’t tell me that very thing today, I knew it was true—they did like him.

  Amelia let out a small yelp. “Look who’s here.”

  I followed her outstretched finger to see DJ standing by a group sitting on a plaid blanket.

  “Did you invite him again?” I asked.

  “No, I swear. But I better go claim my territory before Naomi does.” She skipped off, leaving me behind with Jackson.

  “Isn’t that guy like thirty or something?”

  “He’s eighteen. He graduated last year.”

  “Oh. I was way off.”

  A girl stood on the jump platform of the bridge, all strapped in, her ponytail sticking out from beneath the helmet. She stepped up to the edge, then over it, a scream echoing behind her the whole way down.

  “It’s not very hot,” he said.

  I paused. “What?”

  He nodded toward my drink. “You’re not drinking it. I thought maybe you thought it was too hot.”

  “Oh. No . . .”

  “You don’t like hot chocolate? Are you more of a hot cider girl?”

  “Ew. No. Only people over eighty like hot cider.”

  He smiled big. “I love hot cider, but I can never find it around here.”

  “That’s because nobody likes it.”

  He laughed. “You’re probably right.”

  “Have you tried Starbucks?” I suggested.

  “They only sell hot apple juice. Not the same thing.”

  “If you say so.”

  His attention was drawn to my cup again. “So, seriously, why aren’t you drinking it?”

  Why didn’t I want to tell him? Maybe because people had been making me feel weird about my strict commitment to swimming lately. There was nothing wrong with commitment, sacrifice. “I avoid sugar when I can.”