Goodbye Stranger

by Rebecca Stead

  “Of course I’ll be your date,” Em said. “We’ll sit front row center.”

  “Or maybe back row center,” Tab said. “The two of us should probably lie low for the rest of the year.”

  “Lie low?” Em made her hands into guns. “Who are we, Bonnie and Clyde?”

  Tab made a face. “According to my parents? Yes. We might as well have robbed a bank.”

  “Okay,” Em said. “We’ll sit in the back.”

  “Did I tell you guys about this flower-delivery thing they do at Celeste’s high school on Valentine’s Day?” Tab shook her head. “It’s sadistic. All the popular people walk around with a million flowers and everyone else feels like crap.”

  “Jamie’s school does that too,” Bridge said. “Isn’t it a fund-raiser for the library or something? Maybe it’s not so bad.”

  “It’s terrible!” Tab said. “When I get to high school? I’m gonna start a petition against it. Freshman year.”

  Em and Bridge looked at each other. “What happened to lying low?” Em said.

  “I am lying low!” Tab said. “But that’s just for now.”

  —

  When Bridge got home after Tech Crew, there was a flyer taped above the elevator button in the lobby.

  SPECIAL DEBUT TONIGHT!

  Our own Jamie Barsamian

  aka “J-Bar”

  performing

  @ the Bean Bar

  6:30 p.m.

  **NOT TO BE MISSED**

  She read it four times before the meaning sank in. Then she turned and ran.

  HAPPY BIRTHDAY

  When Bridge shoved open the door of the Bean Bar, Alex and Jamie were already there—Alex smiling, Jamie, in jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt, looking at his feet. Alex was wearing Jamie’s Rolling Stones T-shirt.

  Bridge felt a surge of frustration. She needed a plan. And maybe a cookie.

  Adrienne was behind the cash register. “Hey there, Finnegan.”

  “My dad’s not here, is he?” Bridge asked.

  Adrienne shook her head. “I think he’s getting your mom at the airport. Hey, who’s that kid with your brother?”

  “That’s Alex.”

  “Is he your brother’s friend? Because he’s always coming in here and asking me out. He’s what, fifteen? It’s creepy.”

  Bridge smiled. “I’ll tell him you said that.” She wondered if she should warn Adrienne that Jamie was possibly about to take off his clothes and sing her a song. Then she noticed Jamie, sitting on a chair and calmly taking off one of his sneakers. The other one was already on the floor.

  She ran up to him. “Are you sure you have to do this?”

  Jamie smiled. “A bet’s a bet. Are you sure you want to be here?” He stood up and undid the button of his jeans.

  “Wait—I want to help. Maybe I have something Alex would take instead. I have that weird purple crystal Mom brought me from New Mexico. Maybe we could tell him it has, like, powers or something.”

  “Hey!” Jamie called over to Alex, who was standing near a couple of kids he’d obviously talked into coming. “Instead of me doing this, you want a weird purple crystal from New Mexico?”

  “No thanks.” Alex grinned like a drunk pirate. Bridge wanted to kick him.

  “Didn’t think so.” Jamie started peeling off his jeans.

  “Jamie!” Bridge yelled, which only attracted attention. Several people turned to look at him.

  “Thanks for that,” Jamie said. And in one motion, he brought his jeans to his ankles.

  That was when Bridge finally shut up. Because underneath his jeans, Jamie was wearing his heavy-duty long underwear. The thick black ones he wore camping. They looked a lot like running pants.

  “Hey!” Alex called. “We said ‘underwear’!”

  “Yeah.” Jamie smiled. “But we didn’t say what kind. Check your contract.” He folded his jeans neatly, stacked them on his chair, and then, dressed head to toe in black, walked over to Adrienne.

  She cocked her head and did an up-down gesture with one finger. “What’s this?”

  “I’m going to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you,” Jamie said. “It’s the shortest song I know. Please don’t hit me or call the police.” He went down on one knee.

  Adrienne crossed her arms.

  And then Jamie sang “Happy Birthday” to Adrienne. It took about ten seconds.

  When he was done, a few people clapped. Jamie bowed once, walked back to his clothes, and started getting dressed.

  Alex was trying to look smug, though Bridge was pretty sure he’d had something a lot more humiliating in mind. She couldn’t wait to tell him that Adrienne thought he was creepy.

  Bridge walked up to Adrienne, who was still standing there. “He lost a bet,” Bridge explained.

  “To the creep?”

  Bridge nodded.

  Adrienne looked over at Jamie and Alex. “It’s not my birthday!” she called.

  “It’s not?” Alex said. “But I thought all angels were born on Valentine’s Day!”

  Idiot, Bridge thought. Adrienne wasn’t the type to fall for a stupid line. And anyway, Valentine’s Day wasn’t until Friday.

  Adrienne glared at Alex. Then she came out from behind the counter and walked right toward him with a furious look on her face, bouncing on her toes a little with each step. Bridge enjoyed the way all the confidence drained out of Alex’s smile. He looked like he was fighting the urge to run. But at the last second, Adrienne turned to Jamie, took his face in her hands, and kissed him on both cheeks.

  “Thanks for the song,” she said. “I enjoyed it. Kind of.”

  Jamie smiled and said, “I also brought you this. It’s a birthday present. Kind of.” He held out a closed hand and dropped something into Adrienne’s hand. It took Bridge a couple of seconds to realize what it was.

  Adrienne smiled. “Who’s this?”

  “That’s Hermey,” Jamie said. “He’s an elf who wants to be a dentist.”

  “Man,” Alex said. “You are so weird.”

  Jamie turned to him. “You can’t fire me,” he said. “I quit.”

  THE SECOND DEFINITION OF PERMISSION

  Bridge and Jamie walked home together in a sharp wind that froze Bridge’s nose. She cupped her hands over her face. “Why didn’t you explain the whole thing to Adrienne ahead of time? I told you she boxes. She might have actually hit you!”

  Jamie smiled at her. He seemed not to feel the cold. “It would have been a violation of the contract.”

  Bridge dropped her hands. “There’s really a contract?”

  “Yep.” Jamie was walking quickly, and Bridge had to jog a little to keep up.

  “You could have told her anyway. He wouldn’t have found out.”

  “It was better this way. You know what someone said once? It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to get permission.”

  “Huh.” Bridge wasn’t sure she got it.

  “Which reminds me.” Jamie pointed with one thumb over his shoulder at his backpack. “I stole another rock for your fake moon.”

  Bridge and Sherm had been lugging rocks to school for two weeks, trying to make a moon floor for the Talentine show. Mr. Partridge had said it was okay to take rocks from the park as long as they returned them later.

  When they got home, Jamie showed up in Bridge’s room holding a large gray rock with jagged edges.

  “Wow, nice one.” Bridge added it to the pile next to her desk. “Thanks.”

  “Thanks for being there tonight,” Jamie said. “I didn’t think I wanted anyone to see me, but it was nice. Like I had someone on my team, you know?”

  Bridge almost said, “Hey, what do you say we both be independent together, huh?” Instead, she grabbed her backpack from the floor, pulled out two soft black bundles, and tossed one to Jamie. “I got you something too.”

  He shook it out and held it up in front of him.

  It wasn’t the official Rolling Stones 1981 North American Tour shirt. It was just a black
T-shirt with one word across the back: CREW.

  Bridge held up her own shirt. “See? They match.”

  Jamie smiled. “Thanks, Bridge. I think it might be my new favorite T-shirt.”

  She grinned at him. “It was the least I could do. You paid for them.”

  He threw his T-shirt at her. “Hey,” she said, removing it from her head. “You gave Hermey away.”

  “Yeah,” Jamie said. “It was time.”

  Bridge made her face serious, put her hand over her heart, and recited her number-one favorite Rudolph line: “ ‘Good-bye, Hermey. Whatever a dentist is, I hope, someday, you’ll be the greatest.’ ”

  —

  She was almost asleep that night when she heard her mom’s cello, low and beautiful. Then the music stopped, and she heard her parents’ murmuring voices, and Jamie’s. After a minute, Jamie laughed loudly. She hadn’t heard him really laugh in a long time. She rolled over and stared for a while into the box of rocks on the floor next to her bed. Then she reached for her phone and texted Emily: Start practicing. You’re singing on Friday.

  Em texted back right away: ???

  Bridge: Trust me.

  Then she dialed Sherm. “You awake?”

  “Yeah. Hi.”

  “Have you ever heard this thing about forgiveness and permission?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Sherm?”

  “Actually, I lied. I wasn’t awake.”

  “Oh. Sorry. But listen.”

  SHERM

  February 12

  Dear Nonno Gio,

  Here are the answers to the texts you sent me this week:

  1. Yes, I know there was a supermoon on Wednesday. It was too cloudy to see anything, so I doubt that you looked at it and thought about me.

  2. I don’t believe that your heart is in pieces. I think if your heart were in pieces, you would be dead. I can double-check with Dad if you want.

  3. I know you miss me and you’re sorry that everything is different. Me too.

  Sherm

  P.S. Two days till the big day.

  VALENTINE’S DAY

  Who’s the real you? The person who did something awful, or the one who’s horrified by the awful thing you did? Is one part of you allowed to forgive the other?

  Adrienne sends you home with three dollars and an extra-large hot chocolate. She doesn’t hug you or even really say goodbye, but you can see her watching you, standing at the window with her arms crossed, until you walk away.

  THE OTHER DOOR

  On Valentine’s Day, Bridge met Sherm on their usual corner. Each of them carried a box of rocks.

  “I was hoping you’d have a cart or something,” Bridge said. “My fingers are getting numb.” She tried to wiggle them without dropping the box and could barely feel anything. “Whose dumb idea was it to collect a mountain of rocks?”

  Sherm smiled. They both knew it had been Bridge’s idea.

  They started toward school.

  “Hey, remember that riddle with the two brothers and the doors to heaven and hell?” Bridge said.

  “Yeah.”

  “I asked my brother. He says the one question you have to ask is ‘What door would your brother say is the door to heaven?’ ”

  “But which brother do you ask?” Sherm leaned into Bridge a little bit as they walked. She glanced at his box and realized it held a lot more rocks than hers did. Maybe he didn’t know he was leaning into her?

  “It doesn’t matter which one you ask. Either one will point you to the wrong door.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, because the liar will lie about what his brother would say, which is the truth. And the truthful brother will tell you the truth about what the liar would say, which is a lie.”

  “So you get the wrong answer no matter what,” Sherm said.

  “Yeah,” Bridge said happily. “Whichever door they tell you is the one to heaven, you just pick the other one.”

  “There’s Patrick,” Sherm said, just as Patrick saw them and waved.

  “Let me get that,” he said, scooping up Bridge’s heavy box. Tab would have had a fit, but Bridge just shook out her sore arms and said thanks.

  Patrick smiled at her. “Your ears are crooked.”

  “Oh!” Bridge felt for them and realized they were almost falling off.

  Sherm smiled into his box of rocks. “I was going to tell you. But it looked kind of cute.”

  “Em’s been practicing,” Patrick said. “She’s good.”

  “I know, right?” Bridge smiled at him. “So good.”

  Sherm looked at Patrick. “Let’s drop the rocks off backstage. Mr. Partridge said we could use the side door.” He turned to Bridge. “You coming?”

  “There’s Tab,” Bridge said, pointing. “I’ll go in with her.”

  He nodded. “See you at lunch?”

  “Yeah.”

  —

  The line of kids waiting outside the school doors was longer than usual, even though it was freezing. The teachers and staff always stayed late the night before Valentine’s Day, decorating the school according to the secret Talentine theme. Bridge and Sherm and everyone on Tech Crew had stayed late too, helping with the decorations and finishing the set for the show. Before the night was over, Mr. Partridge had ordered at least six pizzas.

  When Bridge and Tab crowded in together, the first things they saw were Sherm’s banners, hanging over their heads:

  REACH FOR THE STARS!

  TAKE OFF AT THE TALENTINE SHOW! 5 P.M. TODAY!

  And Bridge’s favorite, hanging over the bake-sale table:

  HOUSTON, WE HAVE CUPCAKES.

  Tab clapped and jumped up and down. “Outer space! I knew you guys would pick a cool theme.”

  “It’s not outer space,” Bridge said. “It’s supposed to be Apollo 11. The moon landing, remember? One giant step for humankind?”

  “Look!” Tab pointed. “Pretty!”

  There were silver stars hanging up and down the hallway behind the cafeteria, swaying just over their heads. When Bridge looked more closely, she saw that each star had a paper heart glued to its center, with writing on it.

  Love is the most powerful emotion.

  Love is the answer to the world’s problems. It’s about being vulnerable.

  Love is when your heart wraps around something and won’t let go.

  They were all definitions of love.

  “Yikes,” Bridge said. “I didn’t see these last night. I think this is that horrible homework assignment we did in the fall.” She looked more closely. “They cut up our papers! Isn’t that illegal or something?”

  Tab clapped again. “Let’s look for ours!”

  “No,” Bridge said. She happened to be within arm’s length of her own definition—she could read it from where they stood:

  Love is when you like someone so much that you can’t just call it “like,” so you have to call it “love.”

  Bridge shuddered. “At least they didn’t put our names on them.”

  “I’m going to guess which one is yours,” Tab said, running in the wrong direction.

  “Ick,” Bridge called after her. “Don’t!”

  Tab circled back to her. “Bridge, we’ll send each other carnations on Valentine’s Day, right? In high school? Like Celeste told us about?”

  “What about your petition?”

  “Yeah, I mean if I don’t do the petition. I’m going to send you all three—white, pink, and red. Because you’re my friend, and I like you, and I love you. Emily, too.”

  Bridge smiled. “I’m going to send you two of each.”

  SINGING HER SONG

  The Talentine-show plan felt elaborate, but it wasn’t. That was what Sherm kept saying. “Nothing will go wrong. Just remember to run for the lights.”

  Every time an act finished, two or three Tech Crew kids ran onstage, carrying microphones and music stands, dragging extension cords, folding chairs, amplifiers—racing to set up whatever the next performers ne
eded and take away whatever they didn’t. It sounded easy, but there were a hundred little things to remember—one eighth grader was short and needed her mike stand set up very low; the amplifiers had to face out, couldn’t be too close to the speakers, and had different ways of plugging in; and half of the music stands broke into two parts if you tried to carry them with one hand. Bridge had already done that twice, in front of the whole audience.

  They’d decided that Em would sing last. Bridge and Sherm made sure they weren’t assigned to break down the last “official” act, which was a barbershop quartet of eighth graders.

  All Em needed was a microphone, a stand, and a spotlight. Sherm would carry the microphone, spooling out the cord the way Mr. Partridge taught them, and Emily, pretending to be Bridge, would carry the mike stand. It was pretty dim onstage when the lights were off, and with Emily wearing Bridge’s cat ears and Jamie’s black CREW T-shirt as a disguise, not even the other Tech Crew kids would realize what was happening until it was too late.

  Once the microphone was set up, Sherm would run offstage, leaving Em to sing her song. Meanwhile, Bridge would get to the lights.

  “This one,” Sherm had told her the day before, flipping a switch back and forth. “Just a spotlight, set to hit center stage. That’s where I’ll leave her.”

  —

  Backstage, when Bridge put her ears on Em’s head, Em looked at her and said, “I don’t know if I can do this.” The barbershop quartet was working up to its big finish. Bridge had heard the acts all week at rehearsal and knew most of them by heart.

  “You can do it,” Bridge said automatically. She was watching Sherm drag a bundle of microphone cord toward the stage, measuring with his eyes how much they would need.

  “No,” Em said. “You don’t understand. I actually have no idea what kind of sound is going to come out of my mouth. I’m scared.”

  Bridge glanced at Em’s legs—she was wearing a black skirt and black tights. “Are your legs shaking?” she said.

  “I’m falling apart,” Em said. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you!”