John stares at me.
“Oh!” Sadie goes. “I almost forgot.” She digs around in her massive bag, pulling out some Bliss Body Butter samples. “For you.”
“Thanks! I love this stuff.” I rub some body butter into my hands.
“Smells nice,” Scott observes.
John stares some more.
Things get worse when the next round starts. We were doing pretty well before the break. John knows a lot of random facts. There was a Literary Classics round that I rocked. Not because I’m into literary classics, but because I remember most of that tedium from English classes past. Between Scott and Sadie, we knew a few more answers. But now things are different. No one knows anything about dead presidents. The round after that is Science in the City. John was just telling me about Manhattanhenge the other day, so when Bill asks, “On which two dates will Manhattanhenge take place next year?” I shove the answer form at John, all excited that we finally know something again.
Except John just sits there, staring at his pencil.
“Hello?” I say. “You were just telling me about Manhattanhenge the other day.”
“Was I?”
“Come on! I know you know this!”
John gives me a defeated look. “Give it a rest,” he says. “We’re not in tutoring.” He doesn’t write anything.
I try to figure it out based on what he told me. Everyone else sips their coffees.
This isn’t awkward at all.
“Did you guys arrange the matching before?” Scott asks, pointing at me and Sadie. I have on a shiny silver shirt with a black cardigan and Sadie’s wearing a sparkly black shirt with a gray, cropped sweater.
“No,” Sadie says. “There’s a lot Brooke forgot to tell me before.” Her eyes are screaming, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about Scott! I try to make my eyes say, Dude, I’ll tell you later. But it’s really hard to communicate that in a look.
The next round involves a basket of peppers. Each one is labeled with a number. We have to identify each type of pepper.
“Please tell me one of you knows something about peppers,” Sadie begs.
“Sorry,” Scott says. “I’m out.”
“Number four might be jalapeño,” I offer.
John scowls at the peppers.
“Wait.” Sadie picks up number seven. “I think this one’s cayenne. My mom sometimes tortures us with them when she’s in a culinary mood.”
We write down our best guesses. John slides the paper in front of him and writes serrano for number nine.
When the last round starts, I’m relieved that it’s almost time to go. John has completely shut down. I mean, he probably seems fine to Scott and Sadie, but I know something’s wrong. His energy level has dipped. He’s actually sitting still.
This one’s an audio round, where Bill will play three-second clips of each song. We have to record both the title of the song and the musician. The first two clips are impossible. When the third song comes on Scott and I both go, “I know this one!” Then we’re cracking up and yelling for the answer sheet and fighting over a pencil.
It would have been sweet if Two New (we never thought of a better name) bested everyone else. But we didn’t. Not even close. Those trivia-night teams are hardcore. It also would have been sweet if I got to spend the rest of the night alone with Scott. But his brother’s supposed to call soon and Scott said he really didn’t feel like hanging out. I was hoping he’d kiss me before he left. That didn’t happen, either. He just gave me a quick hug and took off. John was still in a stank mood when he left. So it’s just me and Sadie, walking home together.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Scott?!” Sadie yells.
“It was too late to call you last night. I was going to tell you on the way over.”
“It’s so cool that you guys are together.”
“I know.”
“How did it happen? Tell me everything.”
I tell her everything.
“That,” Sadie says, “is intense. You freaking moved here for him! How romantic is that?”
“I’m just relieved it worked out.”
“You totally belong together. Not that I’m surprised or anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that I knew you liked him.”
“How?”
“Um, because I’ve seen you in the same room with him? It’s kind of obvious.”
This is news. I thought I was being discreet.
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?” I ask.
Sadie takes out a pack of gum. It’s that rainbow-stripe kind with the giraffe. “It wasn’t any of my business. I figured you’d tell me if you wanted me to know. And after you agreed to be a tutor, I really didn’t want to push it.”
“After you harassed me to be a tutor.”
“Did not.”
“So did.”
Sadie chews her gum. She offers me a piece. I take a green one. “Okay, maybe I went after your big brain because I knew you would rule. You have to admit it’s fun, right?”
“Hmph.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Maybe.”
“Oh, you like it!” A biker zips past us at the corner, narrowly missing our noses by about two millimeters. My heart races at the near-death encounter. Sadie is unfazed. “You’re so lucky. I wish Carlos would show up at my door and kiss me.”
“Well, maybe he would if he knew you liked him.”
“Why should we have to do all the work?”
“Not that Scott said he likes me. I mean, I’m assuming he likes me because he kissed me, but then what was with tonight? He didn’t even touch me the whole time. And when he left he was all like, ‘See ya.’ Like I was just a friend or something.”
“At least you’re friends with him. Carlos doesn’t even know I exist.” Sadie darts across the street in the middle of the block. I run after her. I’m getting used to her frenzied walking habits, but it’s still impossible to predict where she’ll zigzag next.
“He knows you exist,” I say. “You can’t get all flustered the way you do around him without him knowing you exist.”
“What if he doesn’t, though? What if I ask him out and he’s like, ‘Have we met?’ ”
“You’ll never know unless—”
“Or worse! What if he has a girlfriend? I would totally be humiliating myself for nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
“It is to him.”
“Only because you’re not giving him a chance to make it something. If I assumed that nothing would ever happen with Scott, I wouldn’t even be here right now. Don’t you think I was scared moving here, starting at a new school, not knowing anybody, living with my dad after not even seeing him for six years? We’re all scared that people will disappoint us. You think you know someone and then ...”
“I can’t believe you followed Scott here. You took this major risk. You’re so much braver than me.”
“No I’m not. I just never stopped believing that what I wanted could be real.”
This dream came true. The possibility that other dreams could also come true makes me want to turn my life into everything it can be.
Nineteen
Those couples that celebrate ridiculous things like one-month anniversaries used to irritate me. I mean, really? Does being together for one month really deserve celebration? How is that such a profound accomplishment?
But now that I’m part of a couple, things are different. I don’t think celebrating our one-month anniversary is ridiculous at all. Not that I told Scott that’s what we’re doing today. I was hoping he’d bring it up. When he never did, I decided to keep the celebrating to myself. I’m not sure why I didn’t tell him about it. Maybe I was worried he’d think it’s stupid.
The middle of November isn’t normally the best time for outdoor stuff. But today is freakishly warm. Scott and I have this thing where we explore a new area every week. Today we’re doing Union Square. We’ve been walkin
g around for half an hour and it’s already proven itself to be highly explorable territory.
That whole weirdness when Scott wouldn’t kiss me or hold my hand is over. All I can think about is making out with him. All I look forward to is the next time we can make out. The parts of my day when I’m not kissing him are unbearable.
“Let’s go in here,” Scott says.
“Where? The playground?”
“Like you never get an urge to swing.”
“All the time. How did you know?”
Scott gently presses me back against the fence. “Because I know you,” he says. He presses up against me. Then he kisses me.
A mother passing by with two kids eyes us sharply.
“We should probably wait,” I say.
“I hate waiting.”
“I know.”
At the entrance to the playground, there’s a sign that says you can’t go in unless you have a child with you. But no one’s watching, so we slip in.
“No way!” Scott runs ahead. I follow him. “Talk tubes!”
“Oh, I love these!” I haven’t played with talk tubes in forever. Every time we went on a field trip to the science museum, I’d hog them. How cool is New York for having them in playgrounds?
We take over the talk tubes. I tell Scott how I used to hog them at the science museum. He tells me what he’s going to do to me when we get back to his room.
If we could stay in his room permanently, I would have absolutely no problem with that.
Well. Maybe I would. We already spend pretty much all our time in either his room or my room. My room is better because Dad always works late, but I love being in Scott’s room. Only, we have to be more creative with our excuses about why we’re in there. I’m not sure his mother believes we’re spending that much time on homework.
When I used to imagine what it would be like to be Scott’s girlfriend, I pictured things a lot differently. We’d have tons in common. We’d never run out of things to talk about. We’d be out all the time, having those exciting city night dates I used to dream about. But things aren’t like that. We hardly go anywhere. Sometimes we run out of things to say, which is incredibly awkward. And it doesn’t feel like our relationship is moving forward at all. Can I even call it a relationship if it’s mostly a physical thing?
I want to tell Scott how I feel. I just don’t want him to get mad. The leaving part comes after the getting-mad part.
No one’s on the spinning dish. I sit on it while Scott grabs hold and runs to get it going.
“We should go out more,” I suggest.
Scott jumps on. “We go out.”
“Yeah, but—”
“We went to the movies.”
Yeah, one time. It doesn’t make sense. Shouldn’t two people who love living here as much as we do go out more? I love being alone together, but sometimes it feels like Scott only wants to be with me physically. We don’t really have much of an emotional connection. We don’t talk about things the way I thought we would. I guess it’s because we don’t have that much in common. Which people always say is so important, but I don’t think it has to be a problem. We have chemistry. Isn’t that the most essential part of a relationship? Without chemistry, you’re just friends. We definitely have spark. And the making-out part is what I look forward to the most, so why do I even care that we don’t do more stuff together? So what if things aren’t the way I imagined they would be? When are they ever?
Maybe I should focus on what I have instead of what I don’t have. Like how we just got to Scott’s place and no one is supposed to be home for two hours.
As soon as he opens the door to his building, we’re kissing. I go up the stairs backward with Scott kissing me the whole time. When we get to his door, Scott digs around in his bag for his keys, still kissing me. I hear the keys hit the floor.
“I might have to stop kissing you to pick those up,” Scott whispers, his lips still on mine.
“I’ll give you three seconds.”
He bends down, grabs his keys, and immediately starts kissing me again.
Scott’s room has a powerful effect on me. Just going inside triggers this overwhelming anticipation. Every time I come over, it’s like I still can’t believe I’m finally here.
I love all the pictures Scott has of his family. He’s about four years old in one of them, hugging his dog, Snuffleupagus. That one always makes me want to cry. There are pictures of Scott white-water rafting and snowboarding. He has a PJ Harvey poster and ticket stubs to a Demetri Martin show. Scott insists Demetri Martin is the funniest comedian in the world. I watched his show at Town Hall online and I agree. He draws these hilarious sketches and plays weird instruments and understands things the way I do. The way we do.
We’re a we now.
As soon as we get to Scott’s room, he shuts the door. I lean back against it.
“What’s that smile?” Scott says.
“What smile?”
“Like you have a secret or something.”
“Oh, it’s not a secret. It’s totally obvious.”
Scott presses up against me and starts kissing me again. I love how he’s always pressing up against me. I think it’s extremely hot.
“What music do you want to hear?” he asks.
“Whatever you want.” Lots of times when we’re making out, I don’t even notice what’s playing. It’s like my body can only take so much input, so it blocks out the music to prevent sensory overload.
While Scott goes over to put some music on, I get on his bed. There’s something about lying on his bed and looking out the window that feels so familiar. His navy-blue comforter. The heavy curtains on his two windows. The soft glow of the lamp in the corner. It’s almost as if I knew what his room would look like before I even got here.
He has a cool view. The building across the street has a penthouse with an enormous patio. A line of electric purple lights runs along the patio’s wall. I stare at the purple line, thinking about this new project Mr. Peterson assigned. We have to figure out our optimal career path by researching the things we’re most passionate about. It’s making me realize that the passion I have for New York might be the key to figuring out what I want to do with my life. What if I can channel my love for New York into a career? Like doing something to help make the city a better place and preserve all the things I love the most about it? Preserving what defines the character of this city must be some kind of job. And creating new ways to connect the city environment to the people who live here is probably a real job, too.
“Have you started that new project?” I ask.
“For the Box?”
“Yeah.”
“Uh, no. I’m putting it off for as long as possible.”
“Why? It sounds fun.”
“Fun?” Scott is still searching playlists on his computer. “What’s fun about a project that forces us to decide what we want to do?”
“It might work for you. I’m already getting some good ideas.”
“I’ll pass. There’s plenty of time to figure it all out. I really don’t need the pressure. I thought you felt the same way.”
“I did, but ... I don’t think it’s a bad thing to start figuring out what I want to do with my life.”
Scott stays focused on the screen. “Whatever,” he says.
I can’t believe he’s not happy for me. He didn’t even ask about what I might want to do. I get where Scott’s coming from, though. We’re like the only two people in our class who don’t know where we want to go to college or what we want to do when we get there. We’re bonded by indecision. But I’m relieved that I finally have an idea about what I might want to be, even if I don’t know exactly what that is yet. Everyone’s been spinning around us in this whirlpool of activity while we’ve been stuck in place together. A couple weeks ago, they all morphed into these academic freakazoids, fretting over application essays and worrying that they might not get into their first-choice college. At some point, I stopped feeling s
orry for them and started to envy them.
How can everyone else know exactly where their lives are going? Did they all have an epiphany that Scott and I missed? John has this special social work program picked out at a college that doesn’t give grades. Sadie wants to be an elementary school teacher, which she will rock at. She can get in anywhere she wants.
This could be the answer I’ve been looking for. Waiting for my real life to start is no excuse to waste the life I have right now. The only reason I’m with Scott is because I took control of my life and changed it to make what I want happen. I created that change myself. Why can’t I do the same thing with figuring out my career?
When Scott comes over and gets on top of me, I stop thinking.
Our relationship might not be everything I want. But when we’re together like this, everything is perfect. Right here, right now, this is all that matters.
Twenty
The past two months could not have flown by any faster. The holidays were a blur of turkey and tinsel, divided between here and back home. Mom had Christmas at our house this year, so it was the whole extended family of aunts and uncles and cousins invading our territory. All I could think about was getting back to Scott.
I was hoping that Mom would lay off the criticism since it was a special occasion and all. Not so much. We had variations of the same conversation every day. A typical one went like this:
Mom: Did you finish those college applications?
Me: You asked me that yesterday.
Mom: I’m asking again.
Me: I only have two more with late deadlines.
Mom: What are you waiting for? You’re on break; this is when you should be working on them.
Me: [silence]
Mom: April’s applying early decision to Worthington University. Did you know that?
Me: Uh, yeah.
Mom: She’s going into premed. Her mother must be so proud.
Me: [silence]
Mom: It must be exciting for her, knowing what she wants to do with her life.
And on and on. It was beyond annoying how she assumed I’m always going to be this directionless loser. I didn’t bother telling her that I’ve been getting so much closer to figuring out what I want to do.
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