“Yep, I’ll be fine.” I dug into my pocket and pulled out my keys. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“Hey, Q?”
I stopped and glanced back at Jake, lifting my eyebrows in question.
“Uh, I was thinking, maybe, if you wanted, we could go out. You know. Have dinner.” Jake sounded casual, but I noticed that he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and his eyes were intent on my face.
I bit the side of my lip. “I’m sorry, Jake. Tonight’s not good. I have to go check on Nate, and I’m just tired. It’s been a long couple of days.” I stretched my neck. None of that was a lie; I was suddenly exhausted.
“Next week, then? How about Friday? I’ll pick you up, and we can eat dinner and then maybe, I don’t know. See a movie. Play mini golf. Bug the campaign offices of our political opponents.”
I smiled for real then. Jake was so dang nice, and it was a welcome change from . . . other people. “It sounds fun, but I don’t know.”
“What’s not to know? I’m not asking you to elope, Q. Just a date. One little date.”
When he put it that way, it would’ve been silly to say no. Besides, why the hell should I say no to a guy I liked, even if it was only as a friend at this point? Maybe once we’d spent time together, I’d realized there was something more. Maybe if Jake kissed me, I’d find that same spark I had with Leo.
And maybe pigs would sprout wings and fly.
But I’d never know if I didn’t give it a shot. With that in mind, I finally nodded. “Okay. Dinner on Friday sounds good.”
Jake grinned, his whole face lighting up. “Awesome. You just made my whole night.” He reached down to take my hand, giving it a quick squeeze before letting it go. “See you Monday, Q.”
I watched Jake jog down the sidewalk toward where I assumed his car was parked, surprised despite what he’d said that he wasn’t going into the diner if I weren’t there. He really was a pretty great person. I owed it to him—and to myself—to give our date a decent shot.
But now, tonight, I just needed to go home, climb into bed and rest my bruised heart.
Nate
By mid-morning on Sunday, the pain in my head had subsided enough that it could be controlled with regular over-the-counter meds, and the doctors agreed that I could be released. I’d just gotten dressed and was sitting on the edge of the bed when I heard a noise at the door.
“Knock, knock.” Dr. Randall stepped into the room. “I hear my favorite patient of all time needed a little staycation at his number one resort this weekend.”
I snorted. Dr. Randall had been monitoring me and coordinating all of my care since I was four years old. At this point, he was almost like family.
Leaning against the door jamb, he skimmed my file on his ever-present tablet. “So the bad news is, that new protocol we introduced last summer? Apparently it doesn’t give you the ability to fly.”
I rolled my eyes. “It also doesn’t make your jokes any funnier, either.”
He clutched his chest as though wounded. “Now that one hurts.” He lowered the computer to his side. “Looks like you’re going to be okay. I’m just here to ask you a few questions about how this happened.”
“All the other docs already did that.” I turned to reach for my phone, hoping he got the hint that this conversation was over.
“Yeah, but none of those bozos—I mean, those esteemed medical personnel—know you the way I do. I know what to ask. What happened in the minute before you fell? Ten minutes before? Did you feel at all off when you woke up that morning?”
“No.” I sighed. He wasn’t going to drop this, and I knew from experience that it would be better to come clean. “If I give you some insider information about what made me fall, can we put it under the heading of doctor-patient confidentiality?”
“As in, I don’t share it with your parents? It’s possible, unless it’s something medically significant that they need to know.”
“It isn’t.” I scrolled through my phone, checking to see if Quinn had answered my last text. “Truth is, I didn’t fall down those steps so much as I was shoved.”
Dr. Randall didn’t react. It was one reason he was so good at his job; nothing seemed to surprise him. “Okay. And since you haven’t given this information to anyone else, I’m assuming you don’t want to implicate whoever did the deed.”
“Nope.”
“May I ask why?”
I trusted Dr. Randall, so I didn’t hedge. “The guys who did it are on the football team. They’d get suspended at best, kicked off the team at worst. Everyone at school would hate me. And maybe by not ratting them out, they’ll give me a break. For a while, anyway.”
“Hmmm. Okay.” The doctor pushed off the wall and came over to me, casually beginning his typical basic exam.
“That’s it? Just ‘okay’? You don’t want to give me some sage advice?”
He shrugged. “Nah. You seem like you’ve got it under control.” He stepped back, grinning at me. “You can’t tell because I’m so freaking cool, but I’m actually doing a happy dance inside. I’m sorry you got hurt, but how you’re reacting, how you’re handling it, is completely age-appropriate. You’re normal, kiddo. Or at least in some senses you are. Color me pleased.”
“Glad I could help you out. Are we done?”
“Pretty much, but out of professional necessity, I have to ask if you feel like you’re being bullied on a regular basis or if you feel unsafe in your current environment.” He made a face. “It’s a thing. I have to document that I asked you so you don’t come back and sue my ass someday.”
I barked out a laugh. “I’ve been bullied as long as I’ve been in school. Most kids are, and that’s the hard truth no one wants to hear. But no, it’s not any worse now than it’s ever been, and no, I don’t feel unsafe.” I managed to stand up without swaying. “Thanks for stopping by. See you next month.”
“All righty then. Here’s my hat, what’s my hurry?” Dr. Randall dropped one hand on my shoulder. “You know how to reach me if you need anything, Nate.” He paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. “All joking aside, bud, try to stay away from the physical stuff. You’re okay now, but anything like this has the potential for setting you back. Or triggering an advance in the disease. So . . . do your best to stay on your feet.”
***
I humored my mom and stayed home from school on Monday. The truth was, for once I wasn’t eager to see Quinn. I had a hazy memory of a conversation we’d had on Friday before she left the hospital, and I was pretty sure I’d said things that I shouldn’t have.
Since then, we’d only communicated by text. She hadn’t seemed any different, and she’d offered to come over to my house on Sunday afternoon, after my discharge from the hospital. But I’d begged off, saying I was tired and wanted to rest. It was true, but I was also too scared to face Quinn that day. I was afraid that she’d feel compelled to bring up what I’d said, and if she did, I was fairly certain it wouldn’t end well for me.
When I got to school on Tuesday, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Quinn had texted me that the truth about what had happened was an open secret; everyone seemed to know, but no one was talking about it to the administration. I’d texted her back:
Did Leo say anything to them? To Brent, I mean.
Quinn didn’t respond for so long that I was just about to resend mine when she finally answered.
Have no idea. If you want to know, ask him yourself. I’m done with him.
I’d read that line over a few times, frowning. Quinn’s patience with both Leo and me was something I took for granted. If she said she was ‘done’ with Leo, something really serious must’ve gone down while I was still in the hospital.
Everything began to fall into place after I’d stopped at my locker and turned around. Across the hall, Leo was leaning against the wall, and Sarah Jenkins stood in front of him, her arms around his neck and her lips locked to his. Leo’s hands rested on her butt. There was an inti
macy between them that didn’t leave much to the imagination.
The fact that it was Sarah in the lip lock with Leo must’ve especially hurt Quinn, I thought. She’d been crushed a few years before, when the two had dated. I’d actually liked Sarah; she was friendly, willing to include us, and never made me feel like I was the ‘special’ friend. But Quinn seemed to sense something between Sarah and Leo that threatened her, and although she wasn’t ever outright mean to her—that wasn’t Quinn’s way—neither was she especially warm or welcoming.
Quinn herself came around the corner at that moment. If she saw Leo and Sarah out of the corner of her eye, she didn’t give any indication. Instead, she greeted me with a bright smile and one of her signature Quinn hugs.
“I’m so glad you’re back.” She stood back, checking me out with narrowed eyes. “You’re feeling better?”
“Hundred percent,” I lied. My head was still a little achy, but she didn’t need to know that. I hated for Quinn to see me as weak and sickly; there were times when it was unavoidable, but if I could help it, I would. “So you want to fill me in on what’s been happening since Friday afternoon?”
She shrugged. “We won the football game. It was the typical scene at the Starlight afterwards. Oh . . .” She lowered her voice. “And Gia thinks I should write a piece for the newspaper about bullying and what happened to you.”
“No.” I put as emphasis into that one syllable as I could. “I mean it, Quinn. I don’t want you to do that. I just need for this to go away. For everyone to forget. You understand?”
Quinn drew back, frowning, a tinge of hurt in her eyes. “Yeah, I understand. You don’t have to get all upset about it, Nate. It was just a thought. I didn’t even say I wanted to do it. It was Gia’s idea.”
“Okay.” I nodded, as the bell rang. “I need to get to class.” Still, I didn’t move quite yet. Leo and Sarah had separated and were strolling away from us, hand in hand. I waited until they’d passed before I spoke again. “Um, I wanted to say . . . thanks for coming with me to the hospital. I was pretty out of it, you know? But I kind of remember you being there. I hope I didn’t say anything . . . you know, crazy.”
Pink washed over Quinn’s cheeks. Crap. She knew exactly what I was getting at. “Of course I was going to be there for you. We actually didn’t get to see you that much, though. You talked to Leo and me, and then you were taken up for your scan. By the time you came back down, your mom had arrived. And then my mom did, too, and I went home with her.” She lifted one shoulder. “No big deal. I was just glad you were all right.”
“Ah, okay. Good, then.” I twisted my neck, looking away from Quinn so she couldn’t see the disappointment on my face. I hadn’t meant to say those things to her at the hospital, but at the same time, part of me wished that she’d acknowledge them. Answer me.
In my perfect fantasy, Quinn would loop her arms around my neck, just as Sarah had with Leo, and she’d say, “You told me you loved me, Nate. Which works out great, because I love you, too.”
Only this time, she’d mean it the same way I did. This time when she pulled me tight, it would be to kiss me, with her mouth open and seeking.
I gave a ragged sigh and began to make my way toward class, glad that my T-shirt was long enough to hide the bulge under the fly in my jeans.
Quinn
I’d pictured my first date for years, probably since I was ten or eleven. And ever since that time, every time I’d thought of it, Leo had been the guy across the table from me.
The fact that Jake Donavan was in that seat tonight was more than a little disconcerting. Still, if it had to be anyone but Leo, Jake wasn’t a bad second choice. He’d been a good friend of mine since we’d met on the newspaper, and I felt comfortable with him. Maybe a little too comfortable; there wasn’t the same delicious tension and heat I felt when Leo was near me. Which was crazy, considering how long and how well I’d known Leo.
I’d been a little nervous before he picked me up—which wasn’t helped by my mother, who was playing it casual even while I was pretty sure she was taking notes to document ‘Quinn’s First Date’ in my baby book—but all the anxiety evaporated as we drove to the restaurant. Jake was low-key and friendly; he didn’t act any different than he did when we were together in school. I found myself laughing at his jokes and actually enjoying myself.
The pizza place was busy tonight, but not too loud, which I also liked. I’d just finished my second slice, listening to Jake tell me a story about his little brother, when someone called his name.
“Hey! Donavan.” The tall blond guy detached himself from the group of people passing us and paused by Jake’s chair. “How’s it going?”
“Hey, Scott. What’s up?” Jake turned a little in his seat, balling up the paper napkin in one fist. Scott Murray covered some sports for the paper, and from what I’d heard, was the best pitcher our baseball team had. He was that rare person who seemed to be able to straddle two worlds; he was well-liked by just about everyone in the school, both athlete and geek. I didn’t know him well, since he didn’t hang out in the newspaper room very often, but he was a friend of Leo’s, so I was aware of him in that way.
Scott noticed me, and his eyebrows rose a fraction. “Hi, Quinn. You guys having a working dinner? Plotting the next issue?”
“Uh—” Jake glanced at me. “Not really. More like a date.”
“Oh.” Scott sounded so surprised that I wasn’t sure whether I should be confused or offended. Was I considered such an odd choice as a date, or was it that he didn’t expect to see me with Jake? I couldn’t tell. “I didn’t know you guys were together.”
“Yeah, well . . . you here with the team?” Jake looked over his shoulder at the table Scott’s friends had taken over, a not-so-subtle hint, I thought, that the other guy needed to move on.
“Ah, yeah, some of us. We’re grabbing something to eat before we go to Anders’ party. You going?”
“Mike Anders? I hadn’t heard about it.”
Scott shrugged. “He found out he got into Penn State, so his parents gave him their credit card and the house for the night.” He shook his head. “Crazy, right? Anyway, everyone’s invited, so you guys should definitely come over.” He knocked on our table. “I’ll let you get back to your food. See you over there, maybe.”
After Scott had moved away, Jake raised his eyebrows at me. “So. You up for that?”
I frowned. “For what? For Mike Anders’ party?” Distaste was clear in my voice. Mike was a football player, one of Leo’s buds, but he was also one of the guys who seemed to take great joy in torturing Nate. He was a year ahead of us, but even back in junior high, Mike used to stalk behind Nate, chanting, “Gimp! Gimp! Gimp!” as they walked down the hallway. Nate ignored Mike, the same way he did everyone who teased him, but I knew he detested him. One of his bigger resentments about Leo these days was that he was still friends with Mike.
“I know.” Jake sighed. “He’s a dick, right? We don’t have to go. I just thought maybe you’d like to hang out with everyone.”
I hesitated. I didn’t really want to go, but at the same time, I didn’t want Jake to think I was a loser who couldn’t handle a party. We were juniors in high school. Partying was supposed to be part of our lives, wasn’t it?
“If you weren’t out with me tonight, would you go?” I took a sip of my water and rested my elbow on the table.
He lifted his shoulders, but the expression on his face told me the truth. Of course he would.
I took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
Jake’s face brightened as though he couldn’t help it, but when he spoke, his voice was cautious. “Are you sure? We really don’t have to. We can . . . I don’t know, go get ice cream or something. Just hang.”
“Full disclosure: I’ve never been to a party. I mean, not one like this. So this is my chance to experience a high school rite of passage, isn’t it? If I’m going to be a journalist, I have to learn to broaden my horizons. I want to go. Really
.”
***
Five minutes inside Mike Anders’ front door, I wasn’t so sure I was ready for this, after all.
The wide foyer opened into a great room, which was wall-to-wall people and blaring music. The door had been propped open when we approached, and the front porch was crowded, too. A couple of guys had greeted Jake with typical shoulder punches and fist bumps, and someone had what had appeared to be a short conversation with him, pointing in a few different directions. Maybe explaining where to find drinks? Food? A reliable fire exit? I wasn’t sure, since whatever he said was lost in the thump-thump-thump of the bass.
“Are you okay?” Jake touched my shoulder and leaned down to speak right into my ear, which was the only way I was going to hear him. “Someone said they’ve got a fire going in the backyard. It’ll be quieter out there.”
I hugged my arms around my ribs. “Yes, please!” I had to yell to be heard.
Jake nodded, jerked his head toward the kitchen and offered me his hand. I hesitated only a second before I took it. When his fingers closed around mine, I waited to feel the same zing I’d experienced when Leo touched me, but it didn’t happen. Jake’s hand was warm, and his grip was firm, but it only felt . . . friendly. Comfortable. Like when Nate held my hand.
But still and all, I was grateful for someone to hold onto as we pushed through the throngs of people in the kitchen. Near the table, a group was chanting something as a girl who stood on a chair chugged a bottle of . . . was that whiskey? The label looked familiar. The girl, not so much. I wondered if she was from another school.
We finally made it to the back door, and Jake managed to get us both through it. When he closed it again, I heaved a sigh of relief at the relative silence.
Small clumps of people stood on the deck. Some were smoking, and I was pretty sure not all of the cigarettes were straight tobacco. A few of them were making out, although it might’ve been more accurate to say they were hooking up. One girl’s shirt was hiked up so high that it looked more like a scarf. She was wearing a silky purple bra, and I thought distractedly that it was pretty. Another girl was perched on the deck railing while the guy she was kissing stood between her spread legs.
The Keeping Score Box Set Page 16