What If

by Rebecca Donovan

  "Sure," I respond, weaving my way to the front of the house. There's a dog gate at the top of the stairs, blocking the landing, with an Off Limits sign taped to it. I release the handle so it swings open and close it behind me.

  Reggie's door is obvious, decorated with Keep Out and Will Shoot on Sight. Just as I'm about to open the door, I hear someone talking. Great. I really didn't want to find anyone up here.

  I'm about to turn around and wait in the hour-long line downstairs when I hear what sounds like... screaming, but muffled. I freeze. Now I can't walk away without checking to see if everything's okay. I slowly open the door enough to peek in. It's dark, but Reggie's aquarium casts enough light to make out the silhouette of person... a girl, sitting on the edge of his bed with a pillow on her lap. Alone.

  She bends over and thrusts her face into the pillow and screams. It's such a painful sound, even muted, it sends a cold chill down my spine. I watch as she replaces the pillow and stands, fixes her hair, and runs her shaking hands along the front of her skirt. It's Nicole.

  I close the door and duck into Reggie's sister's room until I hear her leave.

  "That was fast," Rae comments when I return. "Did you just go outside?"

  I shake my head, searching the crowd for Nicole Bentley. I find her across the room, surrounded by the elites. She smiles at something someone says, appearing composed like she usually does. But just for a moment, our eyes connect, and her brows dip for an instant. Or maybe I imagined it.

  Kyle comes up beside her and wraps his arm around her, and she startles when he kisses her cheek, but she doesn't say anything. I watch for just a few seconds longer.

  "She never... talks," I say quietly.

  "Who?" Rae demands. "Who are you staring at?"

  "No one," I answer, sitting back in the chair.

  *

  Nyelle looks up and inhales quickly, finding me motionless in the doorway. I don't know what to say. Her eyes flicker, trying to read mine from across the room.

  She stands and walks toward me. I release the handle, pushing the door open. She places a hand on my chest, glancing up at me sorrowfully before walking past me to the bathroom. My insides feel like they've been fed through the shredder.

  I sit on the bed and collapse forward with my elbows on my knees. I can hear the shower turn on in the bathroom. I screwed up. She wasn't ready. And now... she regrets it. Or more like, she regrets me.

  I know I should say something to her when she comes back in the room. The awkwardness is going to kill me if I don't. But where would I even start? The thought of apologizing makes me break out in a cold sweat. Because I'm not sorry. I've slept with girls and had it end soon after. Not everyone's compatible. I get that. But this, I don't regret. Not a single second of it.

  I wish she didn't either.

  I rest my head in my hands and search for whatever it is I need to say.

  "You weren't supposed to see that."

  I sit up. Nyelle is standing within the doorframe in just a tank top and underwear. Her wet hair is slicked back, and her skin is still damp. I think she's trying to kill me.

  "Sometimes I just need to let things out," she explains, moving slowly in my direction. "I've never been very good at it. I let it build until I feel like I might explode. So... I do. It's how I cope."

  She sits next to me on the bed, resting her head on my shoulder.

  "You weren't supposed to see it, though," she sighs. "I'm sure I looked crazy."

  My mind is racing, trying to put this all into perspective.

  "Was it me?" I ask quietly. I swear I can feel my heart beating in my throat.

  "Is what you? The reason I lost it?" She tilts her head up at me, scrunching her brows together. "Oh no, Cal. No. It wasn't you at all."

  A realization flashes across her face. She crawls over me and straddles my legs. "I'm sorry I was being weird this morning." I rest my hands on her thighs as she drapes her arms over my shoulders. "Last night was a big deal. You know that."

  I nod.

  "Well... it hit me that I'm leaving in two weeks. And then I couldn't sleep, so... I watched you sleep. Which only made things worse because... I don't want to leave you..." She slumps forward and hugs me. I run my hands up her back. "But I have to."

  "Why?" I ask, my face pressed against her neck.

  "I don't belong here, Cal. You know that," she answers quietly.

  "But you don't want to leave, and I don't want you to go. So, it's easy. Stay."

  She sits back on my legs with a laugh. "I wish. But I can't."

  "I don't understand. There's a lot I don't understand about you," I say, caressing her cheek, silently begging her to tell me. "Help me understand." I know this is a risk. But I feel like I've been fighting to keep her every day since I first saw her here, and now that I have her, I'm not willing to give her up that easy.

  "You can tell me anything."

  "I'm sorry," is all that she says. "I'm so sorry."

  Then Nyelle pushes my shoulders, forcing me onto my back. She places a hand on either side of my head and holds herself over me. "Do you think we could... you know," she says with a seductive grin.

  My eyes widen. "Really?"

  "You look adorable when you're sleeping, by the way," she murmurs, lowering on top of me, kissing my neck up to that spot beneath my ear. "So I'm here... with you... for two weeks." Then her lips find mine, and in that moment, nothing else matters.

  NICOLE

  October--Sophomore Year of High School

  "My mom should be here in a few to pick us up. Thanks for coming with me," Richelle says, stuffing her books in her messenger bag. "I know this is not exactly how you want to spend your weekend."

  "Of course it is. Besides, I had an assignment I needed to get done too," I say, zipping my backpack. Leaning back in the plastic chairs, we wait for Richelle's mom to pick us up before I have to take the train back to Renfield.

  "You never told me how the piano performance thing went the other night," Richelle prompts.

  "It was okay," I answer. "My dad liked it, so I guess that's all that matters."

  "Sadly," Richelle replies. I avoid her eyes, knowing how she feels about him and his need for perfection. "Does Rae still play the drums?"

  "Yeah. I hear her in her garage every night. How come you don't talk to her like you do to Cal?"

  Richelle lets out a quick burst of laughter. "Rae and I never really talked."

  "True," I say, remembering them pretty much always arguing about something.

  "But it'll be like it always was when we move back."

  My heart skips a beat. "Really?"

  Richelle shrugs. "My parents say it's a possibility. Depends on how everything goes."

  I close my eyes, wanting nothing more than to have her back in Renfield. It'll mean everything will finally be better.

  "We can start our own band. For real this time," Richelle says, balancing her chair on two legs. "You can play the keyboard. I'll sing. Rae will be on the drums, of course. And Cal will play the guitar. Do you know if he's any good? I hear him messing with it sometimes when we talk, but I can't tell if he's--"

  She stops, knowing there's no way I can answer that.

  "Don't say it," I say sternly, having heard it too many times. "I made a promise. And that's more important than being friends with them."

  "But not being friends with them was never part of that promise," Richelle argues, the same point she makes every time. It doesn't matter. I know if I remained friends with them, I'd end up breaking the promise. And I can't do that. No matter how much I miss them.

  My silence makes Richelle roll her eyes. She recognizes the conversation is over... again.

  "Oh! Listen to this," Richelle says, crashing her chair back on the linoleum. She pulls her earbuds out of her sweatshirt pocket and plugs them into her phone. She hands me one of the earpieces. "I heard this song and thought Rae could kill it on the drums. We could totally play it."

  I sigh, knowing she'
s not going to stop talking about them like I wish she would. I stick the earbud in my ear to listen. Richelle runs her finger along her screen and selects the song. It starts with a bass guitar, and within a few seconds, the beat kicks in and Richelle starts bobbing her head with her eyes closed.

  I can't help but nod in time too. At the anthem-like chorus, Richelle suddenly stands up and thrusts her fist in the air. I laugh at her unexpected move. She's starting to draw attention from other people in the room, but she doesn't seem to care.

  The next time the chorus comes on, she starts singing. My mouth opens, releasing a shocked laugh. She takes my hand, demanding I stand, and spins me around. The song ends with the squeal of a guitar chord. And Richelle collapses onto the chair, winded. My face is bright red, because everyone is staring at us.

  "Excuse me," a stout woman says to us. I think she's in charge or something. "That's not exactly appropriate--"

  "Are you serious?" Richelle challenges her. "Just trying to have a little fun."

  A mother with her son sitting on the other side of the room shakes her head in disapproval. The boy grins, thinking it's as funny as I do. The woman hovering over us appears shocked with enlarged eyes.

  "At least be respectful of other people and keep it down." She turns and storms away, obviously frazzled.

  Richelle looks to me and laughs. "I can't believe people. They need to relax. And live a little!" she suddenly hollers, making the mother's mouth drop in offense. The boy giggles. "Right?"

  "Very true," I say, giggling too. "That's what life should be about. Having fun."

  "Finally!" she exclaims, like she's made a breakthrough. "Just be happy, Nicole. No matter what. Be happy."

  Chapter Seventeen

  "What would you like to do tonight for New Year's?" I ask Nyelle, pouring cereal into a bowl.

  "You want to make a big deal out of it?" Nyelle asks, sitting on the arm of the sofa.

  I lean against the counter with the bowl in my hand. "Not a big deal, but I feel like we should do something."

  Nyelle scans the ceiling, thinking about it. "Okay. We'll do something."

  "Are you going to tell me what it is? Because the thought of showing up unprepared to whatever you come up with scares the hell out of me. And for the record, I'm wearing my own clothes."

  Nyelle laughs. "Fine. I'll put away that sequined outfit I had picked out for you."

  "You're hilarious, but I have a feeling that this sequined thing exists."

  Nyelle grins, then pulls her knees up under her chin. I have no idea how she's balancing on the end of the couch like that, but she looks adorable. I continue to eat my cereal while her mind goes to work.

  "I've got it," she declares when I'm rinsing out the bowl. "Let's go back to Camp Sunshine."

  "I'm not ice diving," I tell her.

  She makes a face. "No. We'll build a fire. Make s'mores. And go tubing on the frozen lake."

  "Tubing?"

  "You know. We'll buy a couple of those inflatable, doughnut sleds and slide across the ice."

  I pause, considering it. Doesn't sound that crazy. "Okay. I'm in."

  *

  Nyelle holds her inflatable sled in front of her, her cheeks red, as we both stare at the frozen lake. "Ready?" I nod. "Set. Go!"

  We run along the snow toward the lake's edge. I hesitate for just a step before throwing my body out onto the ice on top of the tube. That one moment of sanity gives her the edge she needs to slide out in front of me, stopping about five feet ahead on the frozen lake--that a little more than a month ago we were sinking in.

  "I won!" she declares, thrusting her arms into the air.

  "Because I suddenly had a clear image of landing face-first on the ice," I claim in defense. "There was blood. And a broken nose. It wasn't pretty."

  She just shakes her head at me.

  "Try pushing me," Nyelle requests, turning over to sit on the doughnut.

  I carefully stand on the ice. With the thin layer of snow blowing across it, it's not too slick. But I'm not about to try sprinting on it either. I place my hands behind her on the tube and plant my feet as best I can before giving her a hard shove.

  Nyelle yells out like she's taking off on a roller coaster, sailing across the lake. Not as fast as when she had a running start, or as fast as a roller coaster for that matter, but she still travels a decent distance.

  "Now I'll push you," she says, lying on her stomach and using her feet to scoot back to me.

  "You're not going to be able to push me," I say, sitting down on the tube.

  "I feel bad," she says, bumping into me. "You were always the one who pushed us on the tire swing. You almost never got a turn."

  I know she's slipping up again, talking about our childhood. Before I allow it to sink in too much, I lean over and kiss her. In my head I can hear Rae yelling at me for missing the opportunity to interrogate her. But it's not what I want tonight to be about. A new year is about starting again, not looking back. Right?

  "Race you again?" I challenge, standing up and grabbing the rubber handle of the sled.

  "Best two out of three?" she suggests. "Winner gets..."

  "Anything they want," I propose.

  She lifts an eyebrow. "Name it first, so I know what's at stake."

  My mind is suddenly all over the place, and so are my eyes. She swats my arm. "Cal! I knew it was going to be something... naked."

  "Of course it is," I say with a laugh, not even about to deny it. "If I can get anything I want, and one of those things is you naked, then that's easy. Trying to decide how I want you naked is the hard part."

  "Fine. Naked it is. In the shower." She pauses, waiting for my reaction, which is complete stillness. "In the dark. And we actually have to wash each other, with shampoo and soap and everything."

  "What?" I balk. "I better win because that sounds almost dangerous. Besides, what's the point of showering together if I can't see you naked?"

  "Well, what's yours then?" she demands, with her arms crossed.

  "I'll keep with the same theme, but we take a bath together... with the lights on. And there's no need for washing, just--"

  "Bubbles," she interjects.

  I grin, liking that idea. "I can do bubbles."

  "You're on." Nyelle sticks out her hand. I grin at her competitiveness, taking hold of her hand. But instead of shaking it, I pull her to me and wrap my arms around her, kissing her.

  "That's not fair," she breathes. "You're trying to make me lose focus."

  "I think it's a good strategy," I murmur, running my lips along her neck.

  Nyelle pushes back. "Oh! Really? That's how it's going to be?" She stomps back to the snow-covered beach and takes off her scarf, followed by her jacket. When she yanks her sweater over her head, she pauses to see if she has my attention, which she definitely does. And then she slowly peels her tank top off, revealing a black lace bra and a whole lot of flesh.

  I exhale slowly. "You're evil."

  She smirks with her hands on her hips. "Bring it."

  I smile, taking in every inch she's unveiled. I should tell her to put her clothes back on. It's about twenty degrees out here. But I'm enjoying this way too much to be practical.

  "Wow, boobs make guys dumb," she says with a roll of her eyes.

  "I'm not arguing," I say, still admiring the view.

  "Stop staring and get over here," she demands, picking up her sled.

  I shake my head, trying to regain my composure.

  "First win doesn't count," I tell her when I step on land. "Best two out of three, starting now."

  "Deal."

  *

  Nyelle hugs herself, shivering. "You must be freezing," I observe, tossing some wood on the fire to help warm her up.

  "And do you know what will make me warm? A nice hot shower, in the dark," she gloats.

  "You got lucky," I claim, shifting the logs.

  "No, I had a good strategy," she boasts. "You kept tripping over yourself trying to watch me
run."

  "Can you blame me? And for the record, this showering in the dark thing is going to be a disaster. It still doesn't make sense to me."

  Nyelle pops her head through the hole of her sweater, suddenly looking serious. She opens her mouth, then closes it. I stop messing with the fire, giving her my full attention.

  "Would you still be attracted to me if you couldn't see me?"

  The question comes out of nowhere. "I'm not sure how to answer that."

  "Forget it." She zips up her coat and wraps the scarf around her neck. "How's the fire coming?"

  "Come stand by it. It'll warm you up," I say, studying her carefully. She tries to smile, but I know there's something more to that question. I've seen the way she reacts to anyone who calls attention to her looks. Hell, she punched a guy in the face--granted, he did grab her ass, but still. I have yet to comment on how attracted I am to her. Every time the thought reaches my mouth, I silence it. For some reason it offends her, so I don't tell her.

  *

  Sitting next to each other on our tubes with blankets on our laps, we roast marshmallows on sticks we found in the woods--that I then carved into proper marshmallow spears.

  Rolling the marshmallow over in the fire, I keep thinking about Nyelle's question. And wonder why the way she looks upsets her so much. She was friends with three of the most superficial girls in high school. Their whole world revolved around appearances. So why did she choose them?

  *

  "Cal!" Rae hollers to me as I'm walking down the sidewalk. "Where are you going?"

  I wait for her to catch up. "To Nicole's. She's supposed to be back, but I haven't seen her yet."

  "Where was she all summer again?"

  "I don't remember," I reply. "Some ballet thing, I think."

  Just as we're about to walk up the driveway, the front door opens and out come three laughing girls, all dressed up.

  On either side of Nicole are Ashley Kinsley and Victoria North. I know them because their older brothers are friends with my brothers. They don't go to McDermott with us. They're in the other middle school, Canton. But the way they're dressed--short skirts, hair curled, lots of makeup--they look like they're trying to be high schoolers.

  "Hey, Nicole," I say, when she doesn't see Rae and me standing behind her mom's car.

  "Who are they?" Victoria asks. She inspects us with a disgusted look on her face. I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose and ignore her.