Here i am, p.9
Here I Am, page 9
He’d hold my hand and share my peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, and neither of us would care who was watching or what they said.
I should have known better, of course. But the only person who sat near me was Jason. He sat across from me at one of the picnic tables the janitor moved outside on nice days.
When I bit into my sandwich without looking up from my phone, which was infuriatingly silent, he asked, “Everything OK?”
“Why do you keep asking me that?”
“Because you seem like maybe everything’s not OK, I guess.”
Everything was not OK. I had no idea what Lou wanted. And it was driving me crazy. I hated to admit that, even to myself, and there was no way I was saying it out loud to Jason. I made myself remember how good I’d felt all weekend. My muscles were still sore, so that was easy.
I looked at Jason’s lunch. Two ham sandwiches, a bag of chips, a banana. He had it all spread out like he didn’t care who saw him. He probably didn’t.
Jason pushed his books over and leaned closer to me, across the table. “He’s not worth—“
I grabbed the first thing that caught my attention—the corner of a flyer of some kind that was sticking out from between Jason’s geometry and chemistry books. “What’s this?”
Jason grabbed it back. “Nothing.”
I tilted my head, reading upside down. I recognized the logo for a local band I loved. I’d seen them play a couple of times.
“Soiled Dove is auditioning lead singers?” I looked up at him. “I wonder what happened.”
He shoved the paper into his geometry book. “He quit.”
“Are you going to audition? Can you sing?”
“Probably not.”
“Probably you’re not going to audition, or probably you can’t sing?”
He shrugged.
“So, you’re just carrying around an audition flyer for the hell of it.” I wanted to snag the flyer and pull it back out, look at it more closely, but he looked so uncomfortable. “Can you sing, for real? Do you play an instrument?”
“The guitar. But it doesn’t matter, because I can’t do it in public. I really can’t sing in public.”
“Why not?”
“I choke.”
I leaned back, taking in Jason’s obvious discomfort, trying to figure out what to say to him. I was a little embarrassed that I hadn’t known he could sing or play the guitar. I’d been so focused on myself ever since we started hanging out. Just as I opened my mouth to suggest that maybe I could come over after school to listen to him do his thing, my phone buzzed.
After school, your house.
And then: Please, Celly.
The last two words made my next breath catch in my throat.
Jason stood up. “I’ll see you after school?”
I hadn’t taken the bus since the day of the Morp disaster, and Jason walked with me every day, even though he could ride his Vespa. I looked at my phone again.
Lou drove his mom’s Honda to school every day. Maybe he’d start picking me up.
Right. And on Thursdays, he can drop me off at fat-girl counseling.
“Celly?”
I looked up again and put my phone in my pocket. My face was burning. Jason was taking in my distraction and analyzing it—I saw it in his face. “I’m sorry. Yes. After school.”
Jason looked at where I’d stuck my phone, and then back at my face. I thought he was going to say something more, but he just walked away.
Jason’s house was before mine, so usually we said goodbye at the end of his street, and I walked the last block on my own. Today, of course, when I was desperate to get home, Jason said, “So, you want to come over?”
“Hmm?”
“I think Suzy wanted to talk to you about training this week.”
I did, actually, want to go to Jason’s house. To talk to Suzy. To hear him sing. A genuine pull in a direction away from Lou made me feel good. Like maybe I wasn’t as much of a loser as I was afraid rushing home to wait for him made me.
That didn’t stop me from saying, “I do, but I need to get home.”
“Oh.” When Jason smiled, it elevated that woodland creature thing he had going on. He had a gap between his two front teeth that was lethally cute. Unfortunately, he wasn’t smiling right now. “OK, well—”
I hated how obviously his feelings were hurt. Somehow, he knew why I needed to get home. It shouldn’t have bothered him, and I shouldn’t have felt like I needed to keep the fact that Lou was coming over this afternoon a secret. But I did. “I’ll come by later? After I check in with my parents and do some homework?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
Jason turned down his street and I watched him until he got to his front yard. He didn’t look back. I shook myself and started walking toward my house again.
Lou’s mom’s blue Honda was parked two houses down from mine. My heart clenched—both in excitement that Lou was sitting in it, waiting for me, and in irritation that he didn’t just pull into our driveway.
“Do you really think someone’s going to recognize your car in front of my house?” I asked when I reached the passenger door.
“Your sister will be home soon, right?” Lou looked through the rearview mirror, like he was making sure Jenna didn’t sneak up on him. “I just want a little privacy.”
“I’m pretty sure she has dance practice.”
“Let’s go for a drive.”
That was a new development. I opened the door. I was so preoccupied with wondering where he planned to take me that I didn’t realize until it was too late that the last person who’d sat in this seat had pulled it all the way up. My knee banged against the glovebox and I couldn’t get my ass into the car.
Vivi. I stood up again, my face burning for the second time in the last twenty minutes. I reached down for the lever to push the seat back.
“Sorry.” Lou looked embarrassed for me.
“I’m a foot taller than her.”
“I know.”
I settled into the seat, now that my legs would fit under the dash. “Where are we going?”
Lou drummed his hands on the steering wheel. We never went anywhere but my house or Belly Busters. “Actually, we don’t have to go anywhere.”
Maybe he’d decided that me being pretty sure my sister wouldn’t stumble on me sitting in his car made staying near my house the safest choice.
“OK. Want to go inside?”
More drumming and now his left leg bounced. “I just wanted to talk a minute.”
“About what?” I was equal parts irritated and fascinated. I’d never seen him nervous before.
“You didn’t answer my texts.” He beat a little rhythm on the steering wheel. “I was worried, I guess.”
Was he, really? I turned a little, leaning against the car door, so I could look at him. It was so easy for me to slip into elaborate daydreams that involved him. “Why do you even want to talk to me at all, Lou?”
He reached for me. I had enough time to imagine him cupping my cheek, looking deep into my eyes, before he pulled his hand back without touching me. “I wish you could understand—”
“Right. The rules. I have to understand the rules.” Something had shifted. I’d lost the will to do whatever it took to spend a few minutes with him, and suddenly the rules made even less sense. “Screw your rules.”
“Celly.”
“Why do you want me at all, Lou?”
“Come on—”
“Why?”
He closed his eyes and I had another micro-daydream. Maybe he’d tell me he loved me, invite me to a party this weekend so that he could show his friends that we were together. When he opened them again, he didn’t look at me. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Not being embarrassed to be seen with me would be a great start.”
“I have a girlfriend—”
I opened the car door. “You should go find her, then.”
Walk away, Marcella. Just walk away. Each step felt like wading through knee-deep mud. Don’t look back.
I probably would have made it, too, except I heard his car drive away and couldn’t stop myself from turning to watch it go.
Jason’s room was clearly designed for someone much younger. The walls were covered in dinosaur wallpaper, left over from some unknown kid who’d lived here before he moved in.
“Suzy put her boys in two sets of bunk beds in one room so I could have my own space,” he said. “I shared with Royce until we moved here.”
Suzy had four sons. The youngest was a toddler. The oldest, who must have been Royce, was twelve and had cerebral palsy. “That was sweet of her.”
He nodded, but his face tightened a little. Like the idea of it made him sad. “Yeah. It was.”
Maybe he was thinking about whatever made him need to live with Suzy and her family in the first place. I was curious, but couldn’t make myself ask.
“What’s your favorite color?” I asked instead. He sat in the chair in front of a beat-up drafting table that served as his desk. I sat cross-legged on his bed.
“Blue, I guess.”
“Do you think Suzy would let us paint over Jurassic Park?”
He laughed, which is what I was going for. Anything to break the tension that apparently followed him home after I went to meet Lou. “Yeah, maybe.”
“You should ask her.”
Another awkward moment of silence, and then he finally said what was on his mind. “So, did Lou come over?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t even know how to begin telling him what there was between me and Lou. I didn’t really understand it myself. I wasn’t proud of allowing myself to be Lou’s big fat secret.
“Did he say anything about those bruises?”
That took my breath away. Truth was, no one but Jason had said anything about my bruises. Not even my dad, after we got home from the doctor’s office. Not my sister. My mom thought I’d gotten them at the Hive.
Jason bent over and fiddled with some electronic equipment I hadn’t noticed tucked under his desk. When he was done, he took off his shoes and socks. He wiggled his long toes as he lifted a guitar from where it leaned against the wall and plugged it into the electronics.
He picked out a tune I didn’t recognize. “I don’t want—I mean, if you’ve got a thing with Lou, whatever.”
He stumbled over his words, but his fingers made the tune he played more intricate. He did something with his toes, flicking switches on the equipment on the floor, and the chords he’d just played came back through speakers that sat against the wall.
“It’s complicated,” I said.
He plucked another set of chords, using his foot to record that as well, then drummed a beat on the side of the guitar and added that to the mix. The result was the room filling with music that sounded like three musicians were playing instead of just one.
I closed my eyes.
“He has a girlfriend,” Jason said.
“I know that.”
“A girlfriend that isn’t you, right? Vivi.”
Stupid Vivi. “I said it’s complicated.”
“I know what he likes about you, but—”
I bristled and looked at Jason again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He started to pick out the melody of his song over the chords and the drumbeat. The apples of his cheeks went dark pink. “I know you’re awesome. I don’t know what exactly you see in him. He’s cheating on his girlfriend. That kind of makes him a scumbag, yeah?”
I rubbed a hand over my eyes. “Come on.”
“What?”
I stood up. “Look at me, Jason.”
He did, without skipping a note on his guitar. It was like his fingers weren’t connected to the rest of his body. I didn’t think I could ever multitask that well. “I look at you all the time.”
He wasn’t in the stratosphere, though. He didn’t have anything to lose by being my friend. “I better go. I have homework.”
Jason stopped playing and let the recorded part of the song continue on its own. “Can you stay another minute? I wanted to play you the song I was thinking about using to audition for Soiled Dove.”
I sat back down on the edge of his bed. “You’re really going to do that?”
He shrugged. “Probably not. But just in case.”
He started playing the song I didn’t recognize again, simple at first, then getting more and more complicated as the recorded chords and beats were added in.
Then he sang.
By the time he finished, my heart thumped in my throat. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t get the words to come out.
He used his foot to turn off the recorded tracks. He didn’t look at me. “Did it suck?”
“Don’t be an asshole.” Heat rushed to my face. “You know it didn’t suck.”
He stood up and put the guitar away. “So, you think I should audition?”
I stood up as well. “I think you have to.”
“Will you come with me?” he asked.
I nodded. “You’re going to be a rock star, Jason.”
He smiled, and something shifted in my chest. He was so close to me. One of his hands moved into my hair. Too much. Oh, God. I pulled away before he kissed me.
Jason had been about to kiss me.
CHAPTER 10
It surprised me how much I didn’t mind heading downtown to Betsy Hamilton’s greenhouse of an office for our second appointment. I hadn’t cracked open her book, but I figured there wasn’t much she could do or say about that.
I expected to feel, at best, ambivalent about meeting with her again. The truth was, though, I had a lot on my mind, and I was OK with having someone who was paid to listen.
She came down to open her door in a pair of blue jeans cuffed at the ankle, what looked like a man’s white button-down shirt tied at the waist, and a pair of black ballet flats.
How very Breakfast at Tiffany’s of her.
“Marcella!” She said my name like we were best friends who hadn’t seen each other in ages. “Come on in.”
We took the stairs up to the third floor again. Sneaking in that exercise.
“You’re looking much better this week,” she said.
I’d probably looked like I’d been hit by a truck the previous week. “Thanks.”
She kicked off her shoes and sat cross-legged in her chair. I sat with my feet on the floor. She just looked at me, and that feeling like it wasn’t so bad to come to her office started to fade. Quickly.
“So, what’s on your mind?” she finally asked.
It took everything I had not to squirm in my seat. “Aren’t you supposed to ask me questions or something?”
“That was a question, wasn’t it?”
I stood up and walked over to the windows where most of her plants lived. It was like a mini rain forest in her office. “You must spend a lot of time on these things.”
“They’re my babies.”
“I remember.”
“Celly.” I turned back to look at her. My dad must have told her my nickname. “Come sit down and talk to me.”
“Are you going to ask better questions?”
She smiled, and the affect was kind of startling—her face changed completely, brightening, making her look younger. “I’ll try, I promise.”
I sat down again.
“What’s one good thing that happened this week?” she asked.
That was better. “I started working out at the Hive.”
She leaned forward, like she was really interested. “What’s the Hive?”
I told her about the warehouse and about Suzy and the other women. “I’ve been there almost every day this week.”
“How did you meet these people?” she asked.
For no real reason, I didn’t want to share Jason with her. So I just said, “Through a friend.”
“Another girl who works out there?”
I was the one who asked her to ask me questions. Now I wished I hadn’t. “No.”
She tilted her head. “A boy, then?”
“Gender isn’t binary, you know.” Where did that come from?
“I do know.”
Fine. Fine. “Jason brought me there. He’s Suzy’s foster son.”
She just looked at me.
I was compelled to fill the silence. “It’s no big deal. He just started at my school last week.”
She nodded, and I knew that calling him no big deal gave away the fact that he kind of was. “So, he lifts weights, too?”
“Yeah, I guess, but he’s really a musician.”
She leaned back in her chair, getting more comfortable like maybe I was about to tell her a story. “Is he?”
“A good one.” Why did I care if she believed me?
She smiled again. “I’m glad you have such a good friend, Celly.”
“Me, too.”
“Can we talk about what brought you to me in the first place?” Her tone didn’t change, but suddenly we were done with the small talk.
I straightened my back. She absolutely wasn’t going to make me talk about losing weight or her stupid book. “I don’t mind coming to talk to you, but I’m not reading your book.”
“That isn’t exactly what I was talking about.”
Oh. Shit. My throat tightened when I realized what she was talking about. “We don’t have to talk about that, either.”
She didn’t say anything else, just watched me as I got more and more uncomfortable.
“Someone hurt my feelings, and I just—I snapped, OK? But I hurt myself. I guess. And now I know for sure I don’t want to…” I couldn’t say die.
“Who hurt your feelings? The kids who vandalized your locker?”
I shook my head. I didn’t know how to describe Lou to her, so I just said “my boyfriend” even though Lou wasn’t really that.
“Jason.”
“No. Not Jason.”
“Tell me about your boyfriend.”
Why was I screwing this up so badly? “He’s not really—I mean, we like each other, but there are rules, you know?”
“What kind of rules?”
All right. If she wanted to know, I’d tell her. “No one can know.”
