by Jenny Han
“Elaine, what are you doing here?” I sit up and she releases me.
“Are you okay?” She peers at me closely, like she’s looking for bruises, for any sign of permanent damage. I’m afraid I’m already damaged for life.
“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” I pull the covers up to my chin.
“Everybody’s talking about it.”
Everybody knows? Dread seeps into my bones. “Talking about what?”
“How Jack pushed Mark into the bleachers over something he said about you.”
WHAT? “WHAT? Jack did what?”
“He shoved Mark, and then Mark shoved him, and then Mark was lying flat on his back.” A giggle escapes from her pink lips. “It was kind of funny.”
I lean back against my pillows, and a smile sneaks across my lips. Mama and I were watching an old movie once, and the two guys fought over the girl. They threw punches and everything, and Mama said there’s nothing quite like having two boys fight over silly little you, is there? At the time, I agreed, but I didn’t really understand what she meant. Now I know, a little. The warm feeling spreads across my chest like a sunburn: two boys fought over silly little me. Well, maybe not over me, but because of me, and that’s better than nothing.
“He got out-of-school suspension.”
“WHAT?”
“Yeah, for starting the fight. God, he’s so immature. Even the other guys say so. He likes you, you know.”
“Who?”
“‘Who?’” she mimics, grinning. “You know who. Jack.”
“You’re crazy. We’re barely even friends. Why do you always have to turn everything into a teen drama? It’s not always about that.”
Elaine looks taken aback. “But he does like you, Annemarie. It’s not just me. Hugh thinks so too—”
“Oh, and if Hugh says so, then I guess it must be true, right?”
“Well, yeah, in this case.” She stares at me. “What’s your problem?”
“This isn’t an after-school special, Elaine. I’m not gonna pair off with that idiot Jack Connelly just because everyone in Clementon has to be boyfriend-girlfriend all of a sudden.”
She narrows her eyes. “Everyone, or me?”
“Just forget it.”
“No, I don’t want to forget it. I want to know what you meant by that.”
“Fine!” I burst out. The words erupt out of me like hot fizzy soda spilling all over the place. “Hugh’s all you ever talk about! You used to be interesting! Now you’re so wrapped up in your little ‘relationship’ you can’t even think about anyone else.”
Elaine stands up jerkily. “I came over here because I was worried about you.”
“Yeah, right. You just wanted to have something to report back to your queen, Mairi. All you think about is yourself.”
“You’re the one who can’t think about anyone else! You’re the one who’s selfish. You think you’re the only one with problems? You need to grow up, Annemarie. We’re not in elementary school anymore.”
“Me? I’m not the one who’s playing house with Hugh. Yeah, sneaking around with your junior high boyfriend is real grown up. You wouldn’t know the first thing about growing up!” I’m yelling now. “You have no idea! You don’t even have your period!”
Elaine is trembling as she walks out the door. Breathing hard, I fall back onto my bed and lie there. I’m trembling, too. I’ve lost my last friend, my best friend.
I stay in my room for the rest of the afternoon. I just read.
Near dinnertime I look out my window and see Mark on his bike, circling the block slowly. Around sunset I look out again, and there he is, inspecting a bike tire in front of my yard. He’s waiting for me. But I won’t be coming out. Let him suffer out there in the cold. I hope his guilt gobbles him up. I hope he feels like a nothing the same way I do.
chapter 44
When I get to school, Jack is leaning against my locker. “Hey, Einstein,” he says. He’s the last person I want to see. Besides Mark of course. Hate Mark.
“Hey.” I set my book bag on the floor, and then watch as he turns the combination on my lock. He opens the locker door, hands me my English notebook, and turns back to me.
“So look—”
“How—how’d you know my combination?”
He rolls his eyes. “I know I’m not a genius like you, but give me a little credit, Annemarie. I’ve seen you open your locker enough times to know your combination. So—”
“What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you got suspended.”
“Are you gonna let me finish a sentence?”
“Oh, sorry,” I say. “Well, what do you want then?”
Funny how I never noticed he has green eyes.
He says, “I’m here to pick up my assignments. Hey, are you mad at me or something?”
“Yup.” I slam my locker door shut and walk away. I don’t have to turn around to know that he’s watching me go.
chapter 45
Losing a boy best friend is one thing, but losing a girl best friend, your true best friend, is a whole different story. It’s like losing a rib. There’s something missing inside of you that you didn’t even realize was there, and it makes it hard to breathe.
At school Elaine won’t even look at me. I keep thinking, if she’ll just look at me, everything will be okay. Our eyes will meet, and we’ll both smile sheepishly. But when we pass each other in the halls, she doesn’t look at me; she looks right through me. I eat lunch by myself in the girl’s bathroom. It’s the last day of school before Christmas break, and I should be happy. Instead, I’ve never felt so alone.
When I get on the bus at the end of the day, I’m not expecting to see Elaine, but there she is—sitting in our old seat. Alone, perched at the edge, as if to say Don’t sit by me, don’t even think it. When I walk by, she doesn’t look my way. I’m not brave enough to sit next to her. Instead I sit behind her.
The bus starts moving, and soon we’re riding along. I just sit there, staring at the back of her head.
To the back of her head, I say, “Where’s Hugh?”
Elaine doesn’t turn around. “Orthodontist appointment. He’s getting braces.”
“His teeth seem all right to me.”
“He has an underbite.” She turns around and looks at me then. “You know, he’s not the only thing I think about.”
Swallowing, I say, “I know.”
“What you said to me was mean.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.”
She nods and turns back around, and I feel like I could cry. Then, slowly, she scoots over, closer to the window. Making room for me.
I pick up my book bag and move up to her seat. Neither of us says anything at first, but then Elaine says, “Annemarie, my life’s not perfect either.”
“Sure it is,” I say. “Well, I mean, it’s not perfect, but it’s close. Your parents like each other. You’re pretty. Boys like you.”
Shaking her head, she says, “All of that isn’t as easy as you think. Being here, in Clementon, hasn’t been easy. Honestly, it sucks a lot of the time. It’s harder than I expected. … And, Annemarie, you are pretty. I wish you could see that.”
“Ha.”
“Do you know how many times I’ve wished I look like you?”
Bewildered, I say, “Why would you want to look like me?”
“Think about it, Annemarie. I’m the only Korean American at our school. I’m the only Asian at our school.”
“So?”
“So you have no idea how hard that is.”
“But you’re popular; everyone likes you.”
Elaine shrugs. “It doesn’t mean anything. They could have hated me just as easily. People will love you or hate you for being different, but who’s to say which way it’ll go? You never know. It’s completely arbitrary. And anyway, it’s not like no one’s ever called me names.”
I suck my breath in. “Like what?”
“Like ‘chink.’” She says this word like it is nothi
ng, like it can’t hurt her, but I can see that it does, that it has.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” I am sorry too, sorry that my Clementon, the place I call home, could be as mean as people say. I knew it wasn’t perfect, but I guess I never dwelled too long on the why, or the how. I never thought how it must be for Elaine. Here I was thinking she had it so easy.
“Don’t be sorry. Don’t you get it? That’s why me and you are special.”
I don’t get it. “What do you mean?”
Elaine says, “We’re different. You like me for me, and I like you for you. The rest of it’s all a bunch of crap.”
“Yeah,” I say. “It is.”
Walking home from the bus stop, I see Mrs. Findley picking up the mail. I feel a funny clutch in my stomach, and I’m hoping she won’t see me so I can go home without speaking to her. I keep my head low, walking fast.
But she does see me. “Annemarie!” she calls. She waves at me.
I look up like, who, me? “Hi, Mrs. Findley!” I call back, but I don’t slow down.
“Come over here a minute!”
I trudge over to their mailbox. It’s a good thing Mark had to stay after school for the Student Council Christmas party today. Otherwise I would have kept right on walking.
Mrs. Findley opens her arms and gives me a hug. She’s wearing her thick lumberman’s kind of coat, red plaid on the inside. She smells like cinnamon and wood chips. “How come I haven’t seen you in so long?” she says.
“Oh, you know. I’ve been busy with school and stuff.”
“Still, I wish I could’ve taken pictures of you and Mark for your first dance. I would have loved to have seen you all dressed up. I know you must have been so lovely,” she says, putting both hands on my cheeks. “Did you have a nice time?”
Looking away, I say, “Mm-hmm, real nice.”
“Honey, is something wrong?” Mrs. Findley’s brow furrows. “Have you and Mark had a falling out?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Well, you haven’t been by the house in such a long time. And Mark did mention something …” Her voice trails off.
I’m dying to know what he said, but I don’t ask. Instead I say nothing; I just keep my lips clamped shut.
“Well, I know you two will work it out,” Mrs. Findley says at last. “How about you come over for dinner tonight? I’ll make spaghetti. We can bake those Christmas cookies you love, the pecan crescents.”
I smile. “I wish I could, but I have to be at home for dinner tonight.”
She nods. “All right, then. You know you’re always welcome.”
“I know,” I say. Then I walk home.
chapter 46
The next day I’m finally ready to see Mark. The sun’s just beginning to set, and I go out to the front porch and wait. Meeks waits with me. I think he misses Mark.
The sun’s dipping away when Mark comes down my street on his bike. He slows down when he sees me, and then he rides down my driveway. “Sic him,” I whisper to Meeks, who brightens when he sees Mark. Meeks, the lousy traitor, bounds over to Mark and starts licking his knees.
“Hey,” Mark says. He sets his bike down on the ground very carefully, taking an extra long time. He stoops low to pet Meeks and then faces me.
“What do you want?” I look straight ahead, straight past him.
“I came to say sorry,” he says, and his voice cracks. First time I ever heard it crack. I wonder if it’s been cracking all along, and I just never heard it. “I’m sorry for what I said at the dance. I didn’t mean it.”
“Yeah, you did.” I look at him now, right in the eyes.
Mark looks back at me, and his eyes are watery and scared. He is about to cry. “No, really. I didn’t mean it.”
“Then why’d you say it?”
The corners of his lips turn down, and he thinks hard for a moment. That’s what Mark does when he’s thinking hard—he frowns. He stands there, thinking and looking puzzled, with his hands in his pockets. Then he says, “I don’t know. I don’t know why I said it, but I know I’m sorry.”
I actually believe him. He really doesn’t know. He doesn’t know any more than I do. “Sorry isn’t good enough. Sorry doesn’t take away what you said. Sorry doesn’t mean we can be friends again.”
“I know, but …” He trails off. But nothing. He has nothing to say for himself.
“If you came over here thinking we could just go back to being friends the way we used to—”
That’s what I hope he came over for, anyway. To beg that we could be BFF, best friends forever, like before. And I’ll say no, and Mark’ll keep begging, and then I’ll give in, because that’s what we do.
“No, I know we can’t.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I just came to say I’m sorry.”
“Oh.”
Mark stands there, with the sun setting against his back. Then he pulls his bike up off the ground and starts to ride back down my driveway.
I don’t say good-bye, and neither does he.
chapter 47
All day at school I wondered if Daddy was coming home. That last fight was so bad, I wondered if it was the final straw. I wondered if it meant the D word was right around the corner. I didn’t want to ask Mama. But Celia said not to worry; he’d be there. I hope she’s right. She usually is.
As the clock ticks closer to dinnertime, Mama stays in her room. The door is shut. Celia’s door is shut too. I guess it’s up to me to cook supper.
I’m stirring a pot of macaroni when Daddy strides through the back door. “Hey, Shug,” he says, setting his briefcase on the floor. “What’s cookin’?”
He winks at me, and I can’t remember the last time I was this happy to see him. Dropping the wooden spoon on the counter, I run over to him, my daddy. I breathe in his daddy smell and hug him tight. “Hey, what’s all this for?” he says, smiling and chucking my chin.
“Nothing,” I say, backing away. “Macaroni’s cooking. Mama’s upstairs. So’s Celia.”
Loosening his tie, Daddy says, “Well, I’ll just go get washed up before supper then.” He leaves the kitchen, and as I lean against the counter, my happiness starts to fade away. I wonder what happens next. Did he come home just so he could announce he was leaving for good? Could Mairi’s mother be right? I always thought that I wouldn’t mind if Mama and Daddy got divorced, not truly. I thought, well, maybe it’ll be better that way, maybe some people just aren’t meant to be together. But faced with the possibility, I choose together. I choose us. Even if it is all just pretend.
The four of us sit around the kitchen table, the first time in a long time. For once, there’s no wineglass in Mama’s hand, just iced tea. For once, Celia isn’t rushing off to meet Park, or Margaret, or anybody that isn’t us. For once, Daddy is here.
I keep waiting for Daddy to make his announcement, but it never comes. We eat dinner. There’s not a lot of talk, we just eat.
It’s around 9:30 p.m. when the doorbell rings. Mama and Daddy are watching TV in the den, Celia’s in her room, and I’m doing my homework at the dining room table. Part of me is still waiting for that announcement.
We all look at one another when we hear the door, like, who the heck could that be? We’re not used to late-night visitors. Neither of them make a move from the couch, and sighing loudly, I get up. As I head for the front door, I see Mama put her head in Daddy’s lap, and I feel more okay than I have in a long time.
I open the door. It’s Jack. He says, “Can you come outside for a minute?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess.” I grab my puffy jacket from the coat hook and zip into it. Closing the door, I holler, “It’s for me!” Not that anybody cares.
We sit down on the front steps. It’s pitch black outside, and the sky is swimming with stars. It’s nights like these that make you realize you’re sitting on a planet. We’re on a planet, in an ocean of stars. They’re so close you could reach out and grab one, put it in your pocket for later. If I had a fishing n
et, I’d take them all. I’d line my ceiling with them.
Jack pulls a roll of cherry Life Savers out of his pocket. He takes the one on top, then gives me the next one. If you didn’t know him better, you might think he was being rude, taking the first one and all. But I knew that he took the top piece because the top piece of a roll of Life Savers is always linty and fuzzy from being in your pocket. The ones in the middle are the good ones. I pop that good middle one in my mouth.
He says, “You mad at me for getting out-of-school suspension?”
Clicking the Life Saver on my teeth, I say, “Well, yeah.”
“You still mad at me for getting into a fight with Mark?”
“Yup.”
“’Cause you like him.”
“No, because it was stupid. Why’d you have to go and get in trouble again?”
“I don’t know.” He clears his throat. “The thing is, I’m gonna have to go and live with my dad for a while. I’m gonna leave after Christmas. My mom’s actually going through with it. She already called him and everything.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“For how long?”
“Don’t know.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip. I don’t know how to say this next part. “Are you scared?”
He doesn’t say anything for a minute. “No. I mean, I still hate him. I still hate what he did to my mom. But, I don’t know … I saw him last month. He actually came to see me. He seems … better. I don’t know how to explain it.”
I say, “You don’t have to.”
We sit there, not talking, just staring up at the sky. How many times had Mark and I sat together, just like this, on a night just like this one, saying nothing, just sharing the silence? Too many to count. It’s funny, but this night feels different than all those other nights. Like Jack and I aren’t just sharing the silence, but we’re waiting for something.
Jack’s got that look on his face, the look he gets when he’s standing on the pitcher’s mound. That summer we played softball in the park, he was always the pitcher, and he always had the same expression on his face right before he hit you with a real doozy. That’s how he looks right now. Nervous. He looks nervous. Then he says, “I’m sorry about the way things turned out.”