I Wanna Be Where You Are

by Kristina Forest

Eli barely seems bothered in his basketball shorts and T-shirt. He’s leading the way up Third Street, urging Geezer to keep up his good pace. He starts to slow his walk, and we pause at the corner of Third Street and Madison Drive.

  “Let’s walk up Madison,” he says.

  “What’s this way?” I ask, although my question is answered when I see the museums lined up ahead of us.

  “The National Mall.”

  “Mall?” I repeat, thinking of department stores and food courts. “This doesn’t look like a mall to me.”

  He laughs a little. “Not that kind of mall.”

  We hover over a map that we grabbed. I want to do all the things, see all the museums. We’re only here for one day so we need to act fast. I suggest we see the National Museum of African American History and Culture, the Holocaust Memorial Museum, and the Museum of American History. In that order.

  Eli scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, there’s just one problem. We have Geezer with us.”

  “Oh yeah.” Well, that excitement was short-lived. I could just leave them, but it’s not fun going to museums alone. “There are lots of memorials outside. If we stick to those, we’ll still have a lot to see.”

  We walk to the Washington Monument. It looks like a gigantic white pencil pointing up toward the sky. I take a picture and almost post it on Instagram, but then I remember I shouldn’t leave any evidence that this trip ever happened.

  We pass by the reflecting pool, and I watch as two little kids make wishes and throw their change into the water. I dig in my bag and throw a nickel into the pool, wishing for acceptance to Avery Johnson’s conservatory. I probably should have wished for Mom not to be mad at me once she finds out what I’ve done behind her back.

  Eli snorts when I catch up to him. “You really believe that throwing change into water will make your wishes come true?”

  “It can’t hurt,” I say.

  “But you don’t believe in my philosophy that everything happens for a reason?”

  “Nope.”

  He smirks and shakes his head like I’m just a silly girl, which annoys me.

  Before he can say anything else, I pick up my pace. “Let’s walk faster. There’s still a lot I want to see.”

  We come upon the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. It’s definitely the most crowded spot on the National Mall. We climb the steps until we’re standing on the middle platform. I turn around and look at the reflecting pool and the Washington Monument in the distance. This reminds me of that scene in Forrest Gump when Forrest is giving his speech on the Vietnam War, and then Jenny, the love of his life, runs across the reflecting pool, calling his name. It’s one of Reina’s favorite movies. I take a picture of the view and send it to her. She texts back, JENNY! *Forrest voice*. I laugh.

  “What’s funny?” Eli asks.

  “Nothing. Forrest Gump,” I say.

  He blinks and tilts his head to the side. “Why are you so weird?”

  “Why are you so weird?” I push past him and pause in front of the inscription on the ground dedicated to Martin Luther King Jr.

  I HAVE A DREAM

  Martin Luther King Jr.

  The March on Washington

  for Jobs and Freedom

  August 28, 1963

  “I’m going to the MLK Memorial next,” I say. I don’t wait for Eli and Geezer to catch up.

  But I regret my fast pace once I reach the memorial, because it’s a good walk from the other parts of the National Mall, and by the time I get there I’m a little winded. Poor Geezer is so tired of walking that he plops right on the ground to take a break and tourists have to maneuver around him.

  The memorial is a statue of Martin Luther King Jr. carved out of a mountain. His arms are crossed over his chest, making him look assured and prepared. I stare up at his large stone face and try to imagine what advice he’d have for me about my audition.

  Eli walks up beside me and pulls out his sketchbook. In fast, deliberate strokes, he begins drawing the statue. His art style is still the same: realistic and detailed. It’s like the sketch he drew of my face last year. When he handed it to me, the likeness was so exact. That was when my crush was born. I had no idea back then that I was setting myself up for failure.

  When he notices me looking over his shoulder, he quickly closes his sketchbook and narrows his eyes at me. He was like that when we were kids, too. He never wanted anyone to see what he was drawing.

  “Stop being nosy,” he says. “Can we eat now?”

  “Yeah,” I say, turning my face away. Even though there’s no way he’d know I was thinking about the stupid crush I used to have on him, my face feels hot.

  * * *

  We stop at a falafel food truck and find a place to sit under a tree in a nearby field. Eli pulls bowls for water and food out of his duffel bag to feed Geezer. After I finish eating, I lean back in the grass and close my eyes. The sun is shining, and a cool breeze blows by us. I haven’t felt this free in … well, in forever.

  Just imagine, if I get into the conservatory, I can lie on the great lawn in Central Park and feel this kind of freedom every day. Freedom I won’t be able to experience if I stay home with Mom for the rest of my life. I pull out my phone and stare at my screensaver. It’s a picture of us before last year’s winter recital. We’re hugging each other and smiling into the camera. When we’re side by side like this, we still look alike, but while her face is a little flatter and round, I have my dad’s cheekbones and pointy chin. She told me that his cheekbones were the first beautiful thing she noticed about him.

  She says that falling in love with my dad and having me are the best things that ever happened to her. For years, all we’ve had is each other, but now she has Jean-Marc, too. I really hope she’s actually relaxing and enjoying her vacation with him.

  Eli pokes me in the arm, and I open my eyes. “I gotta go smoke. Watch Geezer for me?” He doesn’t wait for an answer and takes off across the field, pulling out a cigarette along the way. I think back to how Trey said Eli was going through some stuff. Is that the real reason he started smoking? And what “stuff” is happening with him? I wouldn’t even know how to go about asking Eli for an explanation. He’ll probably just tell me to mind my business.

  I turn my attention to Geezer and pat his head. Instead of grumbling, he actually nuzzles up against me.

  When Eli returns, he looks a lot more relaxed now that he’s had a cigarette. He plops down beside me and smiles.

  “My mom just called me,” he says. “I didn’t answer and texted her instead. She hates when I do that.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’ll win Child of the Year for sure.”

  “You’re one to talk,” he says. “Have you figured out how you’re gonna tell your mom about your audition?”

  “No, but I have time to think about it. And who knows if I’ll be accepted. I might not even have to tell her.”

  He leans forward. “Let’s role-play. You be you, and I’ll be your mom. Pretend you already got accepted, and tell me about your audition.”

  I frown. “What is it with you and role-playing?”

  Ignoring me, he says, “Hey, Chlo,” in a weird, high-pitched voice that definitely doesn’t sound like Mom’s. He props his chin in the palm of his hand. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”

  He bats his eyes—something Mom never does—and waits.

  I know he won’t let this go until I play along. Sighing, I say, “Mom, do you remember over spring break when I told you I stayed at Reina’s?” Eli nods. “Well, I didn’t actually stay there.”

  He gasps. “What? Where were you?”

  “I can’t do this, Eli! It’s too hard to take you seriously.”

  “Eli?” he says in his high-pitched voice. “I don’t see Eli here. It’s me, your mom. Carol Pierce.”

  His earnest expression makes me want to laugh, so I look away as I say, “I went to an audition for Avery Johnson’s conservatory.”

  His eyes get wide. “WHAT? H
ow could you do this behind my back?! You’re a terrible daughter! TERRIBLE.”

  The people sitting near us look over, alarmed. I can’t stop laughing.

  “Be quiet,” I whisper. “You’re embarrassing me.”

  He continues to pretend he’s Mom. “So what happened? Did you get into the conservatory?”

  I think about my dream last night. The way my heart sank once I fell over. The sound of my ankle snapping. Even in this pretend situation, I can’t bring myself to say yes. I look away. “I don’t want to role-play anymore.”

  I can feel Eli staring at me. His voice returns to normal when he asks, “Are you nervous?”

  “No,” I lie.

  “You shouldn’t be, right?” he says. “Aren’t you really good? That’s what my mom and Larissa always say. My mom is still pissed Larissa quit ballet forever ago.” He starts to laugh. “Can you believe that?”

  “Yes, I can.” I try to change the subject. “What’s the name of the hotel we’re staying at?”

  “I forget,” he says. “But wait, you must still be really good, because otherwise you wouldn’t be going through all of this trouble to audition.”

  I start to answer him, but then I realize I shouldn’t have to explain anything at all. If it weren’t for him, I never would have broken my ankle. And I wouldn’t be doubting myself.

  So I state it plainly, just in case it wasn’t clear to him. “I feel this way because of my ankle, you know.”

  “I know.” He averts his eyes for a brief second.

  I wait for him to continue, but he just sits there.

  “Do you have anything else you want to say to me?” I ask.

  “It sucks.” He clears his throat. “I wish it never happened to you.”

  “That’s it?” I feel the anger brewing deep in my gut. “Don’t you want to apologize?”

  He jerks back in surprise. “Apologize for what? It’s not my fault you got hurt.”

  “Not your fault? I wouldn’t have been walking to the dance if you’d given me a ride like you were supposed to!” I don’t realize I’m yelling until Eli puts his finger to his mouth to shush me, casting a nervous glance around the field. It only makes me angrier. “And you never stopped by after I had surgery to see if I was okay. You ignored me at school and went on about your life while I struggled to get back to ballet, and all you can do is sit here and say it sucks? Yes, it sucks because of you!”

  I jump up and storm away from him. I don’t even know where I’m going. I can’t remember where we parked.

  “Chloe!”

  I turn around and see Eli waving his arm, beckoning me to come back. I start to run and make a random right once I reach the crosswalk, immediately finding myself at the edge of a crowd. Music is playing and people are clapping. It must be a street performance.

  Eli calls my name again. This time, he starts to run after me. I push through the crowd so he won’t reach me. Maybe I’m being childish by running, but all I know is that I need to get away from him.

  Chapter 12

  Frenemies: A History

  In order to tell the story of how my friendship with Eli fell apart, I have to begin by telling the story of when I felt the closest to him.

  In September of my sophomore year and Eli’s junior year, his parents officially got divorced. A few months earlier, Eli’s dad moved out and got an apartment in Philly to be closer to his office. It was supposed to be temporary. They were trying to work things out in therapy, but they eventually gave up. The night that Ms. Linda came over to give Mom the news, she was armed with a bottle of champagne, ready to celebrate. But instead, they sat in Mom’s room with the door closed. I could hear Ms. Linda crying as I did my homework in the kitchen.

  Ms. Linda had been at our house for hours by the time Eli came looking for her. Wordlessly, he sat down across from me at the kitchen table. He looked so sad, and I had no idea what to say to him. We could hear the muffled sounds of our mothers’ voices above us.

  “You know what’s funny?” he said suddenly. “All they’ve ever done is fight. I don’t think they ever really loved each other. Why do I feel so surprised that they’re divorced now?”

  He sighed, long and deep. I was startled when he wiped his eyes. I hadn’t seen him cry since we were kids, and back then he used to cry over falling off of his bike or accidentally breaking one of his toys. It was never because of something serious like this. These quiet tears were foreign to me.

  I walked around the table and sat down next to him, gently resting my hand on his arm. “I’m really sorry, Eli.”

  He turned toward me then, and laid his head on my shoulder, surprising me. I sat there frozen, but instinct kicked in and I wrapped my arms around him. He cried quietly, and I kept repeating that everything was going to be okay.

  I don’t know how long we sat there like that. But eventually we heard the sound of our mothers coming down the steps. Eli pulled away from me, and mumbled a quick “See you at school.” Then he and Ms. Linda left.

  During school, I never saw him walking down the hallway alone. He was always with some of his teammates, and the most we ever did was acknowledge each other with a quick wave or head nod. But the next morning, there he was, standing at my locker, holding his sketchbook.

  “Hey,” he said as I approached.

  I stared at him. “Hey.”

  Quietly, he said, “I wanted to thank you for yesterday. For being there for me.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t have to thank me.”

  “Yes, I do.” He ripped out a page from his sketchbook and handed it to me. “Thank you.”

  I stared at it, marveling at the sketch he’d drawn of my face. He’d captured everything: my beauty marks and the flyaway hairs around my bun. The uneven shape of my widow’s peak. “I should be thanking you. This is beautiful.”

  He shrugged. “I draw what I see.”

  I looked up at him, and he held my gaze. My mouth fell open, but no words came out.

  Then one of Eli’s teammates called his name and clapped him on the shoulder as he walked by.

  “I gotta go,” Eli said. “See you later.”

  For the rest of the day, I repeated his words over and over. I draw what I see.

  He never approached me in school again and he didn’t come to my house to talk. But I somehow found a way to glance at his drawing every day, and I felt my stomach tighten whenever I saw him flirting with other girls in the hallway. I always caught him doing that and it had never bothered me before, but suddenly I couldn’t stop thinking that those girls didn’t know him the way I did. They didn’t know he once wore the same pair of Ninja Turtle underwear every day for a week, or that he used to pick his nose and eat his boogers when he thought no one was looking.

  Then it was late October and time for Homecoming. Freshman year, I’d had ballet early the next morning, so I couldn’t go to the dance. But this time, there was no early morning ballet, and I was determined to finally go. Reina helped me pick out a dress and shoes, so all I needed was a ride. Reina was on the Homecoming committee and would be at the gym hours before anyone else, and Mom had to work an evening shift at the hospital. So, unless I took the bus, or walked the mile and a half to school in heels, I was out of options.

  The night before the dance, at Mom’s suggestion, I walked across the street to ask Ms. Linda if she could give me a ride. I found her sitting on the couch, wearing a bathrobe and slippers with rollers in her hair. Usually, Ms. Linda was nothing if not glamorous. Her high heels clicking against the pavement was one of the sounds of my childhood. Seeing her like this now made me sad.

  She was looking through a photo album of her old head shots. She’d moved to New York after high school to be a model, but then she met Mr. Greene and got pregnant, and they moved to New Jersey.

  When she finally noticed that I’d walked into the room, she closed the album quickly like she’d been caught doing something bad.

  “Hey there, Miss Thing.” She smiled and adju
sted one of her rollers. “I had a date tonight, but he canceled on me. What can you say? Men, right?” She chuckled to herself in a way that let me know she didn’t actually find what she said to be funny. “Do you need something?”

  “Yes,” I said, remembering the reason I was there in the first place. “Um, I wanted to ask … if you have time tomorrow night, do you think you might be able to give me a ride to the Homecoming dance? I hate to ask but my mom has to work, and she thought I should ask you.”

  Ms. Linda smiled. “Did I ever tell you that I was Homecoming Queen my senior year?”

  I shook my head.

  “It was one of the best nights of my life.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I have this singles mixer to go to tomorrow night. I won’t be able to take you, honey. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, turning to leave. “Thank you anyway.”

  “Wait. For once, Eli is actually in his room. Ask him if he’ll take you.”

  I froze. I’d been actively trying to get over my crush on him, and talking to him now wouldn’t help. Plus, he always thought school dances were stupid. But then I imagined what it might be like to walk to school in the five-inch heels I planned to wear. “I’ll see what he says.”

  I walked upstairs to his room, as I’d done countless times before, but this time was different, of course. In the weeks since he’d cried on my shoulder, he’d changed. He quit the basketball team, started getting close with Isiah, and stayed out as late as he wanted. He even cut school and got caught twice. Ms. Linda had no idea what to do with him. And I had no idea how he’d react to me showing up at his bedroom door.

  I knocked, and heard him mumble, “Come in.” Tentatively, I opened Eli’s door. He was lying in bed with his sketchbook propped up on his chest, blocking me from his view. It was the first time I’d seen him all day. He’d had in-school suspension earlier for skipping class. He’d been doing that more and more lately.

  “Mom,” he said. “I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

  “It’s not your mom.”

  He moved his sketchbook to the side, and his eyes widened. He sat up. “Oh. What’s up, Chloe?”