by Sarah Watson
“I’m not like you,” Ava said. “I don’t have your genes. So let’s just be honest for once. I’m dumb, Mom. I’m dumb.”
“Ava—”
“You know it. Deep down we both know it.”
“Ava. Stop saying that.”
“I’m dumb!”
“Ava…”
Her mom looked at her. With her eyes off the road, Ava saw what her mom did not. The car in front of them had stopped.
“Mom!”
Her mom screamed as she slammed on the brakes. Ava put her hands up and braced for impact. They stopped inches before they made contact. The sensor system in their Mercedes beeped rapidly, telling them just how close they’d come. The shock was too much, and her mom did something that Ava had never seen her do before. She cried.
“Mom?”
The tears tumbled out hard and jarring. Even when the cars behind her honked and someone yelled at her from their car window, she kept crying.
“Mom?”
“I’m doing my best, Ava. All I’ve ever done is my best, and I’m still failing you.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CJ COULDN’T sleep. She felt vaguely unsettled. Like she’d forgotten to turn the iron off or something. CJ had never actually ironed anything in her life. It was just that kind of feeling. She didn’t know what it could be, though. School was fine. Everything with the park was basically on hold. Her friends were good.
CJ grabbed her phone to numb out with Instagram. She wanted to lose herself in the little pictures that always helped put her to sleep. As she scrolled, her eyes started to get heavy. She was half asleep when she saw the video. Her eyes snapped wide open and she sat up. The caption read: The results are in. #SATday #1490 #Yasssss. A junior girl who CJ knew from cross-country was dancing and celebrating to Kool & the Gang while pointing to the enviable SAT score she’d just looked up online.
That’s what CJ had forgotten. Her SAT results. They’d posted today. CJ darted out of bed. How could she possibly have forgotten? She didn’t even bother to put it in her calendar because she’d figured there was no way she could ever forget. And yet she had.
She smacked the space bar until her computer woke and then went to the SAT portal. She typed out each letter, number, and numeric symbol of her password carefully. Her score popped up and CJ stared at it. She felt nothing. Literally nothing. She sat there for a minute or two, and then she did something that she hadn’t done since quitting cross-country. She put on her running shoes.
CJ crept out the back door, the one that didn’t squeak, and quietly slipped outside. She got into her car and turned the ignition. It was almost midnight, so it took her only a few minutes to drive to school. She felt calmer once she was standing on the track. The night air was refreshing and not nearly as cold as it should have been this time of year. CJ knew that it was probably because of global warming and that she should really be angry about it, but in that moment, all she wanted to do was drink it in.
She started out slowly, letting her legs get used to the motion. Soon she fell into the steady rhythm that always felt like a form of hypnosis. She waited for her mind to click off like it usually did. She even mentally called out the footsteps to help it along. Right, left, right, left.
She was trying to forget what had just happened. Right, left, right, left. The way her fingers had clicked against the keyboard as she entered her log-in information. Right, left, right, left. The moment that her results had popped up. Right, left, right, left. The realization that her score had not gone up. It had not remained the same. It had gone down. Ten points lower in verbal. Twenty points lower in math. Right, left, right, left. Her brain wasn’t turning off. Why wasn’t it turning off? Right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left. It wasn’t turning off because CJ couldn’t outrun this. She wasn’t good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough. The words looped in her head.
CJ ran harder. She shifted into a sprint without even realizing it was happening. Her coach would have yelled at her to slow down. She could never sustain this pace for an entire race. But this wasn’t a race and her coach wasn’t there. So she ran harder and harder. Faster and faster. Not good enough. Not good enough. She would run until she collapsed if that’s what it took to drown out the words. She could outrun it all if she could only go fast enough.
That’s when she heard the voice. “Hello?” it said.
CJ slowed. “Is someone there?” she called out.
This time she heard the words sharp and clear. “CJ? Is that you?” She recognized the voice immediately.
It was Logan Diffenderfer.
Ava couldn’t sleep. She was pretty sure she’d taken her Lexapro that morning, but she counted out the number of pills left in her bottle just to be sure. As long as the drug was in her system, she shouldn’t feel like this, should she? She paced her room and the cloud of gray paced with her. She wasn’t supposed to feel this sad over something as small as a fight with her mom. Except that it was so much more than a fight. It was her entire future. Maybe the way she was feeling was normal. She paced some more. She didn’t feel normal.
Ava took the chair from her desk and pulled it over to the closet. She stood on it to reach the shoebox tucked deep into the back on the top shelf. The box held photos and concert tickets and a Denny’s napkin from a particularly wonderful night with her friends that Ava wanted to remember forever. It’s also where she kept the postcard when she wasn’t painting it. The one with the picture of the church in Mexico City. She flipped it over and read the words she’d read a million times before.
Dear Baby Girl,
I’ve tried over and over to write this letter, but I don’t know what to say. I always thought this church was so beautiful. I’ve never seen it in person, only on this postcard that your grandmother kept with her until she died. It’s where she used to pray before she came to America. You have her eyes. I wasn’t expecting that, and it made all of this so much harder. For the brief moment that you were in my arms, I loved you. I’m so sorry.
It wasn’t signed. There was no name. No return address. Just a postmark from California.
CJ didn’t need to ask Logan why he was at the track in the middle of the night. It was pretty obvious that he was doing the same thing she was. So when he said, “Feel like doing a few more laps?” she said, “Definitely.”
After they’d fallen into a steady rhythm, CJ asked, “So… what problem are you trying to outrun?” She couldn’t see his expression in the dark. She only saw his head swivel in her direction. “Diffenderfer,” she said. “It’s the middle of the night. You’re not out here for fun. What’s up?”
“Nothing specific,” he said. “Just everything. You?”
He was being guarded. That was his choice, but she felt like being honest.
“I got my SAT scores and they’re not good enough. There’s pretty much no way I’ll get into Stanford.”
His head turned back toward her. “Sorry,” he said. Then he laughed slightly.
“Did you just laugh at my crap SAT scores?”
“No. No. That wasn’t about you. Sorry. It’s just… I’ll sound like an asshole if I say it out loud.”
“Say it.”
CJ’s legs were starting to feel the ache of running after a long period of time off. It felt wonderful.
“When you said you’ll never get into Stanford, I had this flash of… oh, what’s the word…”
“Schadenfreude,” she offered. “It’s an SAT word. It’s when you delight in another person’s misfortune.”
“Oh,” he said. “Then definitely not that. No. Not at all. Opposite, actually. I felt jealous.”
Now it was her head that turned. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want to go there. I was just thinking how relieved I’d feel if I didn’t get in.”
CJ resisted the urge to run him right off the track. She knew that Logan’s SAT scores were good. Every year the principal sent out a newsletter congratulating all the McKinley High School s
tudents with the highest SAT scores. His name was on the list. Hers, of course, was not. Because she wasn’t good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough. She ran faster.
“Whoa, slow down,” Logan said. “It’s not a race.”
Everything was a race.
“I can’t help it. I hate you right now, Logan. My whole life, all I’ve ever done is what I’m supposed to do. I did all the right things. And now, because I did bad on one test, my dream is basically over.”
“It’s not over. You still have a chance.”
CJ didn’t want just a chance. She’d worked too hard, she’d sacrificed too much, for just a chance.
God, it felt good to run again. There were a million stars out that night and they made her feel small. In a good way. Like her problems weren’t so significant in the grander construct of the universe. She remembered when Martha used to be obsessed with the stars. She’d point them out and claim that she would fly to them one day.
“Hey, Logan?” CJ said.
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever had a transformational experience?”
“You’re talking about that Stanford essay topic?”
She nodded. It was one of the application essay prompts that they had to write about. Describe a transformational experience and how it has shaped you into the person you are today.
“I don’t even know what that means,” Logan said.
“I think it’s like stepping outside of yourself. Having an experience that totally alters the way you see your life.”
“Then definitely not. You?”
“No,” she said. But she wanted to. Not just because of the essay. Not just because it was her only shot at getting into a school that otherwise would have nothing to do with her. She wanted to have an experience so profound and so completely significant that it would shift everything into spectacular, amazing, electric color. “I’ve been volunteering at this after-school program. There’s this guy there.”
Logan looked over at her. “A guy, huh?”
CJ could feel her cheeks turn red. “Not like that.” At least she didn’t think it was like that. “He’s just blunt and honest and…” She didn’t know how to say it without sounding weird. “He makes me wish I could see the world differently. Actually, you might—”
“CJ. No offense. But I don’t want to hear about some dude.”
But Wyatt wasn’t just some dude. She was about to tell Logan that, when he turned to her and interrupted her train of thought.
“Now,” he said. “I have a question for you. It’s a serious one.”
CJ looked over. “Yeah?”
“Feel like racing?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He took off at a sprint. CJ, never one to turn away from a challenge, kicked up the pace. She sprinted faster and faster. Harder and harder. She sprinted with everything she had left in the tank. As she caught up to him, they collided in the dark. It didn’t feel entirely awful and neither of them said sorry. They kept running, and their arms bumped into each other again. CJ wanted to win, she was desperate to win, but Logan was faster. He pulled ahead, and she watched his lead on her widen. It made her want to cry. Not good enough. Not good enough.
That’s when Logan’s phone rang.
“Shit,” he said, slowing to a walk. CJ caught up to him, then slowed down too. “That’ll be one of my parents, I’m sure. Wondering why the hell I’m not in my bed.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked completely confused when he saw the caller ID. “It’s Ava.”
CJ peered at the screen. “My Ava?”
Logan answered somewhat tentatively. “Hello?”
CJ leaned in so she was close enough to hear. Ava’s words were quiet, but she could still make them out.
“Does your offer still stand? Because I want to find my birth mother.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JORDAN STOPPED by Dunkin’ Donuts on her way to school. She’d woken up to two texts that morning, both addressed to her and Martha. The first was from CJ, saying that Ava had made a rash decision to find her birth mom and that CJ was worried. Then, less than an hour later, there was a text from Ava saying that CJ had gotten her SAT scores, they weren’t good, and that Ava was worried. Jordan wasn’t sure which friend she was supposed to be more concerned about, but either way, it seemed like a good day for doughnuts. She ordered a dozen.
The weather had shifted overnight, and there was frost on the lawns and rooftops. It was too cold to meet up in the quad like they’d originally talked about, so Jordan sent a group text telling everyone to meet in her car. CJ was the first one to climb in. “Hey,” she said. “I know I look like crap. Long night. Lots to tell. Ooh. Doughnuts.”
Jordan held out the box and CJ took a cinnamon sugar.
“Sorry about your SATs,” Jordan said.
CJ sighed, inadvertently blowing some of the sugar off her doughnut. “Ava told you?”
Jordan nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. I can’t even process it. I think I’m still in shock.”
CJ’s phone beeped and she grabbed it out of her backpack.
“If that’s Ava or Martha, tell them to hurry,” Jordan said. “It sounds like we have a lot to cover.”
CJ looked at the text and laughed. “It’s not.” She held up her phone for Jordan to see.
The text was from CJ’s boss at the volunteer program. Jordan squinted at the tiny picture that accompanied his name. “You failed to mention that he’s hot. And is he asking you out?”
CJ shook her head. “No.” She giggled. Which seemed strange given the fact that ten seconds ago she was in a complete fog about her SATs. “It’s just how he talks.”
Jordan read the text out loud. “‘Clarke. Would you do me the kindness of accompanying me on a reconnaissance mission tomorrow night? Just say yes and I’ll provide details as they become pertinent.’ That’s how he talks?”
CJ shrugged. “Yeah. He’s… I don’t… goofy. Smart goofy. He’s funny.” She grabbed her phone back and typed out a reply.
Yes.
Jordan peered over CJ’s shoulder. “Why is he in your phone as Wyatt No Last Name Provided?”
CJ laughed. “It’s a dumb inside joke.” Her phone chimed with his response.
Aces. Pick me up at eight and don’t wear anything restrictive.
CJ laughed again.
“Clarke,” Jordan said. “What is happening?”
Both back doors opened at the same time, and Martha and Ava climbed in. The mood in the car shifted quickly. CJ silenced her phone and turned it facedown in her lap.
“Okay,” Jordan said. “Only ten minutes until the first bell. We have to triage. Who has the bigger crisis? Second girl gets pushed to lunch. CJ seems okay, so I’m thinking we do Ava first.”
“Fine by me,” CJ said.
Ava yawned. “I’m okay. Just tired. I don’t really feel like talking.” Jordan offered her the box of doughnuts. She waved it away. “Honestly,” Ava said. “CJ texted you before she called me. I’m fine. She made way too big a deal out of it. No offense, CJ.”
CJ turned around so she could look at Ava. “Oh, pardon me for thinking that calling Logan Diffenderfer at one AM seemed a bit concerning.”
“Wait,” said Jordan. She felt her entire body stiffen. “You called Logan at one AM?”
“Ho-lee shit,” said Martha. “We’re going to need some more details.”
“He offered to help me find my biological mom,” Ava said. “It’s a long story.”
“Which you will tell,” said Martha. She turned to Jordan. “Did you know about any of this?”
Jordan shook her head. She didn’t like the way this was making her feel. She’d noticed a comfort between Ava and Logan that day at Ava’s house when he’d taken her photo. It had seemed weird at the time. And now, to know that Ava and Logan had been talking late at night. She didn’t feel jealous exactly, but it wasn’t far off. Jordan knew that Logan wasn’t hers, and even if he was,
which he totally wasn’t, she’d spent the last three years wishing that Ava would finally get over this grudge she had against him. So this was a good thing. Totally a good thing.
“Wait, I’m still confused,” said Martha. “So after you talked to him, you called CJ?”
“Not exactly,” said Ava. She turned to CJ and gave her a look. “I guess CJ left a detail out.”
“It’s going to sound weirder than it was,” CJ said. “I was with him at the time.”
“What?!” Jordan and Martha blurted out in unison.
“Dude,” said Martha. “We’re going to need to skip first period.”
“I can’t,” CJ said. “You can’t either. Physics quiz. Anyway, it wasn’t a big deal. It was just a bizarre coincidence. We both went out for a run and ended up at the track at the same time.”
“In the middle of the night,” Martha said, somewhat dubiously. She turned to Jordan. “Are you believing this shit?”
Jordan didn’t say anything. A memory sprang up from somewhere deep inside her, and it was so vivid that it was like it just happened. She was remembering the first time Logan held her hand. They were on the sidewalk outside her house. He’d been so nervous that he asked before he did it. It was so sweet and so kind that she thought her heart might burst into a million little pieces.
Ava looked at the time. “The bell’s about to ring,” she said. “Talk later?”
Jordan nodded. She hadn’t thought about the moment with Logan and the hand holding in years. She wondered why it came to her just now.