Some Girls Do Jennifer Dugan [Dugan, Jennifer]

ALSOBYJENNIFERDUGAN
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Copyright?2021byJenniferDugan
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Names:Dugan,Jennifer,author.
Title:Somegirlsdo/JenniferDugan.
Description:NewYork:G.P.Putnam’sSons,[2021]|Summary:“Anopenlygaytrackstarfallsforacloseted,bisexualteenbeautyqueenwithapenchantforfixingupoldcars”—Providedbypublisher.
Identifiers:LCCN2020039410(print)|LCCN2020039411(ebook)|ISBN9780593112533(hardcover)|ISBN9780593112540(epub)
Subjects:CYAC:Dating(Socialcustoms)—Fiction.|Bisexuality—Fiction.|Lesbians—Fiction.|Highschools—Fiction.|Schools—fiction.
Classification:LCCPZ7.1.D8343So2021(print)|LCCPZ7.1.D8343(ebook)|DDC[Fic]—dc23
LCrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2020039410
LCebookrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2020039411
EbookISBN9780593112540
Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Anyreferencestohistoricalevents,realpeople,orrealplacesareusedfictitiously.Othernames,characters,places,andeventsareproductsoftheauthor’simagination,andanyresemblancetoactualeventsorplacesorpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.
Coverart?2021byJeff?stberg
CoverdesignbyKelleyBrady
pid_prh_5.7.0_c0_r0Toanyonewho’severhadtheirlifeturnedupsidedownbyloveCONTENTS
Cover
AlsobyJenniferDugan
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
1:Ruby
2:Morgan
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Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor1
RUBY
There’sanarttotheextraction.First,ItakeTyler’sarm—heavyacrossmystomach—andslidemyfingersbeneath.Iliftitslightlyandmovecentimeterbycentimetertotherightsideofthebed.AndwhenI’mmostlyfree,Igraboneofhispillows—warmedbymyownoverthinkinghead—andslipitunderhisarm.IfI’mlucky,he’llsnufflesoftlyinthemoonlightstreamingintohismessybedroom,hugthepillow,andstaysleeping.IfI’munlucky,he’llwakeupandaskmewhereI’mgoing:Ruby,juststay.Ruby,please.Ruby,itwon’tkillyoutocuddle.Idon’thavetheenergyforthat.
Tyler’smessybrownhairfallsintohisfaceashesmilesinhissleepandhugsmypillowreplacementalittletighter.Igotluckytonight—ineverysenseoftheword.Igrabmyboots,leftoversfromoneofthetenmillionWestern-themedpageantsI’vesmiledmywaythroughovertheyears,andcreepoutthefrontdoorbarefoot,carefulnottoletthescreendoorslamandwakehisparents.
Themotion-sensorlightclicksonasIshovemyfeetintomybootsandmakeabeelineformycar,mysoul,mylifeline:mybaby-blue1970FordTorino.Yes,it’soldashell,butit’stheonethinginthisworldthat’strulymine.Iboughtit,rustedandrotten,offmygreat-auntMaeve’sestateforthreehundredbucks.Ipainstakinglyputitbacktogether,scavengingpiecesfromjunkyardsandfleamarkets.Irestoredittoitscurrentstateofsplendor.Me.Ididthat.
Okay,somaybeIhadalittlehelpfromBillyJackson,thetown’sleast-crookedmechanic,butstill.
Iclimbinsideandshiftitintoneutral,takingofftheemergencybrakeandlettingthecarcoastbackwarddownTyler’slonghillofadrivewayandintothestreet,whereIfinallyflicktheignition.Itrumblestolife,thesoundclosertoagrowlthanapurr.Iresisttheurgetorevtheengine—god,Ilovethatsound—andpointmycartowardhome,feelinglooseandboneless,relaxedandhappy,contentinthewayoneonlycanduringthattinyglintoffreedombetweenchoresandobligations.
NotthatTylerisanobligation—orachore,forthatmatter.He’sniceenough,ourtimetogetherfunandconsensual.Inanotheruniverse,we’dprobablybedating.Butweliveinthisone,andinthisuniverse,Iloveexactlytwothings:sleepandmycar.
Tylerisagreatstressreliever,anitchtoscratch,agoodtimehadbyall.Nothingelse.Wehaveanarrangement,afriends-with-benefitssortofthing.Nostrings.Ifhecalledmetomorrowandsaidhewantedtoaskagirlout,I’dsayGoforitaslongasitisn’tme—andI’dmeanit.Ihopehe’dsaythesame.WhichiswhyI’mdrivinghomefromhishousetwohoursaftergettingatextthatsimplysaid:biggametomorrow,youaround?
Bestillmyheart.
Butthen,acoupleweeksago,Itextedhim:pageantintheAM,comedistractme?Andhewascrawlingthroughmywindowwithinminutes.
See,it’snotanall-the-timething;it’sanas-neededthing.Somepeoplegethigh;TylerandIgettwentyminutesofconsensual,safesex—alwaysuseacondom,people—andasubsequentawkwardexchangeabouthowmyleavingrightaftermakeshimfeelweird.Thus,thesneakingoutoncehefallsasleep:theidealcompromise,atleastonmyend.
Ipullintothedirt-patchdrivewayinfrontofmytrailer.Itmightnotseemlikemuchtosome,butit’soursandit’shome.Justmeandmymom.Well,someofthetime,anyway.Thebettertimes.
Butthelightsarestilloninthekitchen,theTVflickeringinthelivingroom,andmyheartsinks.Momworkstheovernightshiftcleaningoffices,andhercar’snothere,whichmeansthiswillnotbeoneofthose“bettertimes.”Literallynothingcoulddragmedownfromagoodmoodfasterthanhavingtobearoundherboyfriend,ChuckRathbone.
Chuckandmymomhavebeentogetheroffandonforthepastfewyears—andunfortunatelyforme,latelythey’vebeenmoreonthanoff.“Gettingmoreserious,”Iheardhersaytoafriend.Whichiswhyhehasunrestrictedhouseprivileges.Alongwitheatingourfoodandwastingourelectricityeventhoughwecan’tafforditprivileges.
IgetwhyChuckcan’thelpchasingmymomaround—mymomisthekindofbeautifulthatevenhardjobsandtoughluckcan’tdull,abeautyqueenandMissTeenUSAhopefulrightupuntilthatsecondlineshoweduponherpregnancytesteighteenyearsago.(Sorry,Mom.)
ButIdon’treallyunderstandwhymymomalwaystakeshimback.Chuckis,objectively,theworst.
I’dcrashatmybestfriendEverly’shouseifIwasn’tsosureChuckhadheardmycar—myengineislessthanstealthy,andnormallyIlikeitthatway.ButifIleavenow,he’lldefinitelytellMom,andthat’soneguilttripIdon’tneed.Onascaleof“needsanoilchange”to“engine’sseized,”beingrudetomymom’sboyfriendratessomewherearound“blownheadgasket”—notafatalblow,butlikemostthingswhenitcomestomymother,expensiveanddifficulttofix.
Iturnoffmycar,listeningtothetickoftheengineasitcoolsdowninthespringair.Thecurtainsinthelivingroommove,nodoubtChuckstumblingaround,tryingtoseewhatI’mdoingandwhyI’mnotinside.IreachintothebackseattograbthebagofstagemakeupMommademepickupearlierandgetout.
OurdoorcreaksasIyankitopenandignorethesidingfallingoffnexttoit,thenstepoveraparticularlysuspiciousstainonthecarpet.FiveyappingJackRussellterrierscometearingdownthehallway.Mom’sotherprideandjoy.Please,god,donothavelettheminmyroom;they’rebarelyhouse-trained—andby“barely,”Imeannotatall.
“Shutthosemuttsup!”Chuckyellsfromthekitchenashepullsopenthefridge,asifIhaveanycontroloverthem.Asifanyonehascontroloverthem.Momlikesthemalittlewild;shesaysit’smorenaturalthatway.I’dpersonallypreferiftheir“wildness”couldbelimitedtotheroomswithvinylflooring.
IcrouchdownandpetasmanyofthemasIcan,asfastasIcan,whilebeingtackledbytheothers.Tinypawsdigintomysidesandlegsastheyfightforattention.“Shh,shh,shh,”Icoax,calmingthemasmuchasit’spossibletocalmfiveunderexercisedterriersthatrarelyseetheoutsideofourhome.
“Goddamndogs,”Chucksays,carryingtwocansofbeerovertothereclinerinfrontoftheblaringTV.FoxNews.Asusual.Hedropsintotherecliner,dripsofbeerfallingontohisfadedblackT-shirt,whichreadsDON’TTREADONME.Helookslikehehasn’tshavedindays,flecksofgraypokingthroughhisbrownstubble.“You’rehomelate.”
“Yeah,sorry.Iwasstudyingwithafriend,”Isay,standinguponcethedogsdecidethatsniffingoneanotherismoreinterestingthantacklingme.IwonderiftheycansmellTyler’scat.
Chuckraiseshiseyebrows,thelastwispsofhaironhisheadfloppingcomically.“Yourmommightfallforthatgarbage,butIknowwhatgirlslikeyoudoatnight,andit’snotstudying.”
“Whatwouldyouknowaboutstudying?”Isay,hatingthathe’srightbutdeterminednottogivehimthesatisfaction.
“Iknowyoudon’tgethickeysfrommathhomework.”Helaughs,andhiseyesflicktothetalkingheadontheTV.
Goddammit,Tyler,nomarksmeansnomarks.Myhandreachesuptomyneckasmycheeksflame.
“Hey,hey,it’sallright,Iwon’ttellyourma.”
Ilookathim,waitingforthecatch.
“Comehere,darlin’,”hesays,butIstaywhereIam,poisedforaquickescape.Heleansforward,aconspiratoriallookonhisface.“So,whatdidyoureallygetuptotonight?”
“WhattimeisMomcominghome?”Ichangethesubjectwithasmilethatshowstoomanyteeth.
Hefrownsslightly.“Idon’tknow.It’sslowthisweek,shesaid.Theylostanotherclient.”
“Soanytime,then?”Iask,andhelooksbackattheTV.“I’mgonnaheadtobed.Night.”
“Yousureyoudon’twantone?”heasks,gesturingtowardthebeercanbesidehisonthetray.Anddidhe,what,thinkI’dgetwastedandspendthenightwatchingconservativeshitheadsspoutliesoncableTVwithhim?No,thanks.
“It’saschoolnight.”
“Doesthatreallymattertoyou?”OntheTVbehindmethehostblabsonandon.Istareatthewall,takingadeepbreath.
Iwon’ttakethebait.
“Thisshit’llrotyourbrain,Chuck,”Isay,grabbingtheremoteandclickingitoff.
BecauseIwillnotbeintimidatedinmyownhome.IwillnottakecrapfromanystupidmansittingonthereclinerthatIgotMomwithmyLittleMissSunBonnetwinningsyearsago.IwillnotbescaredoftheChuckRathbonesoftheworld.
“Fuckoff.”Helaughs,chugginghisbeerandturningtheTVbackon.
Iscampertomyroomandlockthedoorbehindme,prayingtoanygodthatwilllisten:Pleasedon’tletthisbemyfuturetoo.2
MORGAN
“Doyouhaveeverything?”
“Yes!”
“Doyouhavelunchmoney?”
“Yes,Ihavelunchmoney.”
“Yourtrackschedule?Practicegoesuntilatleastfivethirtymostdays,theysaid.”
“Yes,andthenI’mgonnajogorwalktotheapartmentafter.”
“Okay,I’musuallyattheshopuntilaboutsixthirty,soifyoubeatmehome,don’tworry.”
“Ohmygod,I’mnotworried.Icanhandlebeinghomealone.”
“Ijustwantthistobegoodforyou.Youdeserveitafter—”
“Canwenottalkaboutthat?Freshstartandall?”
“Okay,well,whatwouldMomsay?”
“Idon’tknow.‘Iloveyou’?‘Haveagoodday’?”
Dylansmiles,aseriouslookinhiseyes.“Iloveyou.Haveagoodday.”
“Holycrap,Dyl,(a)yourimpressionofMomneedswork,and(b)you’retakingthis‘inlocoparentis’thingalittletooseriously.”
“Ijustdon’twanttoscrewanythingup,”hesays.“MomandDadwillkillmeifIbreakyouorloseyouorwhateveryoudowithkids.”
“Dude,I’mseventeen.”Igroan,pullingmylongbrownhairupintoaponytail
Thecarbehindusbeeps,andsomeoneshouts,“Thedrop-offlaneisfordrop-offs.Getoutorgetmoving.”
“Yikes,”Dylansays,lookingintotherearviewmirror.
“Yeah,hellhathnofurylikeasuburbanmomlateforherlatte,”Isay.“Butdon’tworry,I’mgoingtobefine.Andyouneedtogo.”Igivehimaquickone-armedhugandthendartoutofthecarbeforehecanstopme.
ButdespitewhatItoldDylan,IhavenocluewhatI’mdoing.Abunchofkidsbustlepastme,laughingwiththeirfriends,completelyoblivioustothefactthatI’mnew.Ishiftmybackpackhigheronmyshoulders—oratleastItryto,whichisexactlywhenIrealizeit’smissing.Crap.
“Dyl!”Icall,butofcoursehecan’thearmeontheothersideoftheparkinglotwithhiswindowsup.SoIdowhatIdobest:Irun,fast.Iflythroughtheparkinglot,weavingbetweenrows,hopingtocuthimoffashemovesslowlythroughthetrafficjamthat’sformedinfrontoftheschoolentrance.I’mjustaboutthere,onemorerowtogo,whenaloudhornandthescreechofbrakesmakesmefreezeinmytracks.
Andthere,afootawayfrommyhip,isthebumperofaveryshinybluecar.Seriously?IlookbacktoDylan’scarjustintimetoseeitpulloutanddisappeardowntheroad.
“Dammit!”Ifitweren’tforthisstupidcar,Iwouldhavemadeit.Iwouldn’tbestandinginthemiddleoftheparkinglotofanewschoolwithoutmyschedule,anotebook,orevenafriggin’pencil.“Whatiswrongwithyou?!”Ispinaround,slappingmyhandsonthehoodofthecar.“Watchwhereyou’regoing!”
IlookuptoglareatthenodoubtmachoassholedrivingthisstupidmusclecarandamstruckwiththebrightestpairofblueeyesI’veeverseen—whichpromptlynarrowandglarebackatme.
“You’retheonerunningthroughthemiddleofaparkinglot,”shesays,hoppingoutofhercarandshovingmeoutofthewaytoinspecthercarhood.“Ifyousomuchasputascratchinthis—”
“Youcouldhavekilledme!”
“ItwouldhavebeenyourfaultifIdid,”shesays,straighteningupsowe’renearlynosetonose.“Wherewereyouevengoing?School’stheotherway,ifyouhaven’tnoticed.”
And,ohno.Oh.No.She’s…very…cute.AndbeforeIknowit,mybrainisunhelpfullymakingalistofeverythingIshouldnotbewonderingabout.Likehowherperfectlytannedhandmightlooklinkedwithmylighter,peachierone.Andwhethertherearetanlinesunderneathherfittedgrayhoodieandobscenelytightjeans.And,ohgod,Iamacreep.
Itwouldbesomucheasiertostayangrywithherifshereallyweresomeassholedude,butthisisacomplication.OnethatwillrequireafullsystemrebootifIwanttogetoutofthiswithoutembarrassingmyself.Stepone:closemymouth,whichiscurrentlyhangingopenlikeI’mwitnessingamiracle.Steptwo:pullittogetherwithaquickness.
Like,theobjectivepartofmybrainrecognizesthatshestilltechnicallysucks.Butthenonobjectivepartofmybrainstillreallywantshernameandnumberandtoknowifshe’ssingleandhowshewouldfeelaboutdatingamarginallydisgracedtrackstarofthefemalepersuasion.
“Hello!Iaskedyouaquestion.”Shewavesherhandsinfrontofmyface.And,yes,thatwashelpful.Pleasekeepbeinganasshole,cargirl.
“Iforgotmybackpackinthecar,”Ianswerthesecondmybraincomesbackonline.“Iwastryingtocatchhimbeforeheleft.”
“Whydidn’tyoujustcallhim?”Shelookspointedlyatthephonestickingoutofmypocket.And,okay,goodquestion.
“Instinct?”Isay.“I’marunner.Irun.It’swhatIdo.”
“Yeah,well,don’trunhere.Thisisaparkinglot.Forparking.It’swhatit’sfor,”shesays,mockingmytone.
“Itwasanemergencysituation.”
Thegirlhuffsandpullsherhair—longdirty-blondstrandsthatlooklikethey’vebeenhighlightedtowithinaninchoftheirlife—intoamessybunontopofherhead.“You’reluckytherearenoscratchesfromyoupunchingmy—”
“Ididn’tpunchyourcar.Ilightlypressedmyhandsagainstitinfrustration.”
“Sure.Well,thegoodnewsisallit’sgoingtocostyouisacarwashtogetyourgrubbyprintsoffthehood.”Shesmilesinameankindofwaythatshouldnotmakemystomachflipdowntomytoesbutabsolutelydoes.Andseriously?Seriously?!CanIjustforoncenotbeattractedtosomeonewholooksliketheycouldeatmefordinnerwithoutbattinganeye?
“IamnotpayingforyoutowashyourcarjustbecauseItouchedit.”
Sheshrugsandwalksbacktoherstill-opendoor.“Itwasworthashot.She’sdueforoneanyway.”
Andnowwhenmymouthpopsopen,it’swithannoyanceinsteadofawe.“Worthashot?Areyou—Youalmostkilledme!Youalmostkilledme,andthenyoutriedtoscammeintopayingforacarwashyou’realreadygetting?Whatkindofamonsterareyou?”
“Thekindthatdidn’tforgetherbackpackandisn’tgoingtobelateforhomeroom,”shesaysbeforeslidingintohercarandreversingdowntherow.
“Asshole!”Iyell,flippingheroffforgoodmeasure,butshejustrollshereyesandlaughs.
Ihavethegoodsensetowaituntilshe’soutofsightbeforeadmittingdefeatandpullingoutmyphone.Dylananswersonthefirstring,soundingtotallypanicked.OnceIreassurehimthat,yes,I’mfine,theworldhasnotended,nothingirrevocablybadhashappenedinthefiveminutesorsosincehedroppedmeoff—barringalmostbeingrunoverbytherudestgirlinrudetown,whichIdefinitelydonotmention—hecalmsdownenoughtopromisetobringmemybackpack.
Ifindabenchnearthetrackwithagoodviewofthepark-inglotandwait.Somuchforcomingearlytofindmyclasses.Thereareacouplegirlsrunningonthetrack,nodoubtmembersoftheschoolteam,andIwonderifthey’remakingupapracticeorifthey’rerunningpenaltylaps.MyoldcoachatSt.Mary’swasbigonthose.Cominginearlywasgoodforthesoul,sheusedtosay,althoughmybodywholeheartedlydisagreed.
Irecognizeoneofthegirlsassherunsby:AllieMarcetti—we’verunagainsteachotherafewtimes,andIkindofknowher.She’sfast,butnotasfastasme,anddefinitelynotforaslong.Nooneis.Well,noonearoundhereatleast.Iheardarumorshewasswitchingtosprintingforherfinalseasonanyway.
Theyrushpastme,theirmatchingponytailsstreamingbehindthem,andIbouncemyleg,wishingIwererunningtoo.Ican’twaituntillater,whenit’sfinallymyfeetslappingthetrack,pushingmyselfuntilmymusclesburnandmystomachshakesand…Istop,remindingmyselfI’mtechnicallynotanofficialmemberoftheteamyet,notuntilmywaivercomesthrough.
Ifitcomesthrough.Butwithmypastranking,Coachhadnoqualmsaboutlettingmepracticewiththemforthelastcouplemonthsofschool.Ievensignedanearlyletterofintenttorunformydreamschool—althoughatthemomentit’s“onpause”whilethey“evaluatetheincident.”
I’vespentalotoftimeconvincingmyselfthisisallfineandnoneofithurts.ThatgoingfromstarathletetohighschoolscandalisatotallynormalprogressionthatIambothequippedforandtotallysawcoming.But,yeah,Ilookawayasthegirlscrossthefinishline,tryingreallyhardnottothinkabouthowthatshouldbeme,atmyoldschool,withmyoldfriends.
Mymomkeepssayingit’sjustamatteroftimebeforeI’mclearedtocompeteagainandeverythingissortedwithmycollege.Apparently,beinggiventhechoicetowithdraworbeformallyexpelledfromyouroldschool—aschoolyourparentsarecurrentlysuingforamyriadofreasonsincludingbutnotlimitedtodiscriminationandharassment—makesitseemalotlesslikelythatyournewschoolispoachingeliteathletes.Let’sjusthopetheHighSchoolAthleticAssociationagreeswhentheyfinallyruleonmycase.
Coachdidn’tpoachanyone.Webothjustgotluckythatmybrotherhasanapartmentinaschooldistrictwithadecentrunningprograminthesameconference,andtheschoolhappenstohaveaspotforadistancerunner.Ifitwereuptome,I’dstillberacingwithmyoldcrewatSt.Mary’s,butit’snot.
That’swhathappenswhenyouloseitonateacherwhotellsyouthatbeingqueerisagainstthecodeofconductatyourstupidprivateschool…andthendecidestomakeyourlifealivinghellbecauseofit.
Wetriedthehomeschoolingroutewheneverythingfirstwentdown.Wenaivelythoughtwecouldjustremovethatonepartofmylifeandeverythingelsewouldstillbethesame.Butthenthelocalnewspickedupthestory,andIstartedtofeellikeeveryonewaswatchingmeorsomething.Maybeitwasinmyheadatfirst,butthenmyfriendsstoppedcalling,andtheirparentsstoppedtextingmyparents.AndthenIjusthadtogetoutofthere.
Whatever.Nowallowing.Freshstart.Newme.Outandproud.Takingastand.Sofun!Thiswaiverjustbettercomethroughbeforestates,orthey’llhavetochainmetothebenchtokeepmefromcompeting.Iwillnotmissthefinaltrackseasonofmyhighschoolcareer,sohelpmegod.
Thefirstbellrings,andeverybodyrushesinside,theparkinglotandschoolgroundsbecomingaghosttowninseconds.AndIstaysitting,waitingforDylan.Lateformyfreshstartalready.3
RUBY
Ilaughwhensheflipsmeoff,becauseme?I’mtheasshole?She’stheonedartingbetweenrowsofparkedcarslikeasquirrelonspeed.Ifanybodyiswronghere,it’sher.Definitely.SowhatifIdidtrytoscamacarwashoutofit?Thegirlslappedherhandsonmybaby.She’sluckyIdidn’tcutthemoff.
Ipullintoaparkingspace,farenoughawaythatIdon’tthinkshecanseeme,butwhereIcanstillsortaseeherandherveryangrybigbrowneyes.Therewasasecondthere,whenthesunhitjustright,thattheyalmostlookedamber.NotthatI’mreallyinterestedinherorherkindaamber,mostlybrowneyes.Moremildlycurious.It’saprettysmallschool,andI’veknownmostofthesekidssinceIwaslittle.It’snotoftenwegetnewkids,especiallynotthislateintheyear—there’sgottobeastorythere.
Ataponmysidewindowpullsmyattention,andIturntoseeEverly—literallytheonlypersononearthclearedtotouchmycarbesidesme—givingmeafunnylook.Ipopmydooropenandshestepsback,runningherfingersthroughhertwists.Oneoftheboysfromthelacrosseteamwhistlesashewalksbywithhisteammates,flashingheragrinandtackingona“Lookinggood,ladies”toroundthingsout.
Everlycluckshertongue.“WishIcouldsaythesameforyou,Marcus.”
Marcusgrabshisheartdramatically,walkingbackwardastherestoftheteamfallsintoachorusof“ooooh”and“ouch.”
Everlygetsthatalot.Imean,whenyou’reHarringtonFalls’sanswertoAmandlaStenberg,it’dbehardnotto,butstill.I’lltake“Lookinggood,ladies”anydayoverwhatpeoplesaytomewhenshe’snotaround.Iguessthat’swhatyougetwhenprettymucheverybodyconsidersyouatrashytimebomb.Likeit’sonlyamatteroftimebeforeIstartspittingoutkidsandruininglivesorsomething.
Ipushmyseatforward,shovingapairofheels,mytapshoes,andsomegarmentbagsoutofthewaytograbmybackpack.“Youknowhe’sintoyou.”
“Ido.”Shesmiles.
“But?”
“Butnothing.Hehasn’taskedmeout,andI’mnotabouttoaskhim.”
“Wow,”Isayaswestarttowalktowardthebuildingentrance.“Waytosetbackwomen’srightsabouttenbillionyears.Ifyoulikehim,youshouldgoforit.”
“SaysthegirlwhosneaksaroundwithTylerPortmaneverytimehetextsherforahookup.”
“Hey.”Iholdupafinger.“There’snothingwrongwithowningyoursexuality.Itexthimasoftenashetextsme.Andit’samutualunderstanding.Nopining,nofeelings—”
“Theboylikesyou.”
“Hedoesnot!”
“Thathickeyonyournecksaysotherwise.”
Isnapmyhanduptocoverit.“Iputmakeuponit!”
“Yeah,well,notenough.”Shelaughs.“CredittoTyler,though—it’samazingyoucanevenseeitwithallthatspraytanyougoton.”
“Thatwasmymom’sdoing,”Isay,holdingoutmyarmsandfrowningwhenInoticeasmallstreak.
“Yeah,well,tellyourmomifshemakesyourwhiteassgofullKardashian,I’mgonnastopshootingyouonprincipleuntilyouturnbacktotheshadeofskingodgaveyou.”
Ihuff;Idon’tevenrememberwhatshadethatisanymore.MyskinandnailsandhairhavebeentannedandpaintedandbleachedsinceIwasalittlegirl.Sometimes—allthetime?—IwishIcouldpeelitalloff,justtoseewhoIamunderneath.
“YouthinkI’mplaying?”Everlysmirks.“MaybeyourmomwillleaveyoualoneifshehastostartpayingforthoseInstagrampics.”
Everlyisobsessedwithphotography,anditshowsinherwork.She’sfantastic.She’sbeendoingmyheadshotsforthelastcoupleofyearsandprovidingcontentfortheInstagramaccountmymommanagesforme.Momthinksitwillleadtomodelinggigsorsomething,butallit’sledtosofariscreepydudesinmyDMs.
Butforgetposedpicturesandpromotedposts.Everlyisthequeenofcandids.She’salwaysgotherNikonaroundherneck,shootingwhenweleastexpectit.Herentireseniorartprojectisbasedontheideathatcandidscanshowyouwhoapersonreallyis,withouttheirguardup.
Iwouldn’tknow;myguardisneverdown.
Ipullmyhairoutofitsmessybunandfluffitaroundmyshoulders,coveringmyneckasbestasIcan.“Better?”
SheflickshereyesovertowhereTylerhasjoinedMarcusandtherestofthelacrosseteam.“Iguessthatdependsonwhoyou’reasking.”
“Ohmygod,Everly.Ahickeyisasignofanoverzealousnight,notalastingdeclarationoflove!”
“Uh-huh,well,whataboutwhenyoucombineitwithhiswholePleasedon’tleaveme,Ruby,whycan’tyoustaythenight?”Sheclapsherhandstogetherlikeshe’sbegging.
“Neverhappening.”Igiveherashove,butI’mlaughing.
“Uh-oh.”Shegasps.
“What?”Ilookaround,tryingtofigureoutwhatjustfreakedherout,buttheonlythingremotelyoutoftheordinaryIseeisthenewgirlpoutingaloneonabench.
“Oh,nothing.Justyourdaddyissuesshowing.”
“Screwyou,”Isay,butIdon’treallymeanit.Ifthere’sonepersononthisearththatcananddoescallmeonallmybullshitontheregular,it’sEverly.“It’snotdaddyissues.It’sIdon’twanttobetieddowntoadumbboyinhighschoolandenduplikemymomissues.”
Everlyopenshermouthtosaysomethingelse,butIcan’thearitoverthesoundofthebellsignalingthatweallbetterdragourselvesinsidebeforewegetmarkedasabsent.
“Savedbythebell,”EverlysaysaswecatchuptoMarcusandtherestoftheguys.Heslingshisarmaroundherandwhisperssomethinginherearthatmakeshergiggle.
Tylerstandsontheothersideofhim,watching.Hehangsbackfromthecrowdalittle,slowingtomatchmypace.He’sacatchbymoststandards—sixfootone,allleanlacrossemuscle,withfloppyhairandakindfacethatlightsupwhenhesmiles.
I’drun,honestly—anythingtoavoidthisawkwardmorning-afterdance…excepthe’sinmyfirstperiod.
“Youleftagain,”hesayswhentheothersareoutofearshot.
“Ileaveeverytime.”Istilldon’tunderstandwhyhe’ssosurprisedbythat.“Andyouleftamark,”Iadd,shiftingmyhairjustenoughforhimtosee.Idon’tmissthehintofasmirkonhisfacebeforehepullshisfeaturesbackintoplace.“Didyoudoitonpurpose?”Iask,loudenoughthatEverlyturnsherheadtolookatme.
“Relax,itwasnothing.Ijustgotalittleoverexcited.”
“Well,ifyoucouldnotgetalittleoverexcitedonmybody,thatwouldbegreat.”
Heleansin.“Doesn’tthatdefeatthepurposeofourwholearrangement,then?”
Ishovehimawaywithmyshoulder.“Justdon’tdoitagain.Okay?”
“Itwasanaccident,Ruby,”hesays,histonebecominglessplayful.“You’renotgonnamakemefeellikeanassholebecauseyoucameovertogetsomeandIdelivered.”
“Jesus,Tyler.Don’tbeadick.”
“I’mnottheonebeingadick.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”Idropmybagontomydesk.And,okay,Iguessthisisgoingtobethethemefortheday.FirstI’mtheasshole,andnow,apparently,I’malsothedick.Perfect.
“YouknowexactlywhatImean,”hesays,andcrossestheroomtohisseat.
ExceptIdon’t.Ireallydon’t.
Unlesshemeanstheleavingthing,which,no.
Iglanceoutthewindow,aheadachealreadyformingbehindmyeyes.IwatchthenewgirlgetoffthebenchandwalkovertoashittyHondaCivic—gray,withlittlespotsofrustonthebumper.Icatchaglimpseofthedriverasheleansovertopassherabookbag.Definitelynotherdad—waytooyoung—butthewayherufflesherhairwhenshetakesthebagmeansnotaboyfriendeither.Ateeny-tinypieceofmerelaxesatthatrealization.Itrynottothinktoohardaboutwhatthatmeans.
Isearchmybackpackforapencil,anythingtotearmyeyesoffthegirloutside,gratefulwhenmyphonevibratesinmypocket.IpullitouttofindaboutadozentextsfromMom,remindingmethatIhavetapclasstonightatsixthirty,andtowearthegoodshoes,andtosmile,andtobesuretopostdatethecheckaweek,and…and…and…Therearealwaysmoreinstructions.Momlikestosay,“Theonlythingbetterthanbeingapageantqueenisbeingapageantqueen’smama,”exceptIfindthatreallyhardtobelieve.
Buttherearesomethingsyoucan’tsayoutloud:likehowherdreamisn’tmydreamanymore,hasn’tbeenforawhile,nomatterhowhardItrytoforceit.LikehowIwishthatpostdatedcheckwereforbillsandgroceriesandnottaplessonsIhateandspraytansthatwon’tdoanybodyanygood.LikehowI’vebeenfakingmysmileforsolong,I’mscaredIdon’tknowwhattherealonefeelslikeanymore.4
MORGAN
I’dliketosaytherestofthemorningwentbetter,thatafterforgettingmybookbagandalmostgettinghitbyacar,itwasallsmoothsailing.Butitwasn’t.Thehallmonitorgavemethethirddegreeforbeinglateandthensentmetotheoffice,seeminglynotconvincedthatIwasanewstudent,because“newstudentsdon’tstartattheendoftheyear.”Which,fair,butIam,andIdid.
Afterthatwasstraightenedout,Iwenttomylocker,wherethecombinationdefinitelydidnotwork,andbythenhomeroomwasoverandfirstperiodhadstarted.Ithinkthehallmonitorfeltmorepitythanannoyanceasshewalkedmebacktotheoffice,wheretheprincipalsaid,“Missusalready?”Onelatepassandnewcombinationlater,Iwasonmyway.Sortof.
BecauseIwasalsolatetothirdperiod.Sillyme,Ithoughtallthe200roomswouldbeonthesecondfloor,butitturnsoutthatroom215isactuallyinthenewwingofthefirstfloor.Andwhynot?
Miraculously,Imakeittomyfourth-periodclass,Government—thelastbeforelunch—early.TheteacherintroducesherselfasMrs.Morrison,handsmeatextbook,andtellsmetositanywhere.WhichiswhenIrealizethedesksarelinedupinasemicirclearoundtheroominsteadofinrows,likealltheroomshadbeenatmyoldschool.Clearly,ordermeansnothinghere.
“Youdon’thaveassignedseats?”Iask,lookingaroundasallthestudentsfilterin.
“No,Ms.Matthews,notinmyclassroom.You’refreetopickanydesk.”
Iscantheroom,selectingaseattotherightandtowardtheback,onewithagoodviewoftheteacherandeveryoneelse.Notthatthere’smuchchoice;withthewaythingsaresetup,everyoneisvisibleatalltimes.Clever.It’sgoingtobenexttoimpossibletotextorzoneoutwithoutherseeingit.
Alliecomesin,givingmeanencouragingsmileasshewalksafewstepsintotheroom.ShetakesanemptyseatnexttosomeoneIcanonlyassumeisherfriendbythewaytheyinstantlystartchatting.It’sfine.Oritwillbe,afterschool,whenIcanmeettheteam,whichwillhopefullybemoreacceptingthanmyoldteam—theydroppedmelikeahotpotatoafterIcameout.OrmaybeitwasafterIcalledthecoachamisogynistichomophobe.Eitherway.
Iduckmyheadandflipthroughthebook,scanningthepagesandwishingIcouldbeanywherebuthere,untilsomeonekicksmychair.Ilookupandfindmyselfface-to-facewiththegirlfromthecar.Themessybunisgone,herhaircascadingbackdownaroundherface,whichIhaveabsolutelybeenstaringatfortoolong.
Sheclearsherthroat.“You’reinmyseat,”shesays,notexactlyrudely,morelikeextremelyfirmly…withnoroomfordiscussion.
“Ithoughtthereweren’tassignedseats,”Isay,eventhoughmyinstinctistograbmystuffandrun.ButI’mdonebackingdown.Thisisthenewme.
Shegritsherteeth.“It’simplied.”
“How?”
“Look,Iappreciateyou’renewandall,butthisismyseatandhasbeensinceSeptember,soifyoucouldgorunovertosomeoneelse’s—”
“Funnyyoushouldsay‘runover.’”Ismile.“That’skindofyourthing,right?Runningthingsover?”
Isweartogodhernostrilsflare.Itwouldbecute,ifsheweren’tsodamnannoying.Scratchthat,it’sdefinitelystillcute,butI’mtryingtoignoreit.Unlessangrynostrilflaringcountsasflirting,inwhichcase—
“Youalmosthitmycar,nottheotherwayaround.”
“Isthereaproblem,ladies?”Mrs.Morrisonasks,turningfromthewhiteboardandraisinganeyebrow.
Iopenmymouthtosayyes,thereisaproblem,averybigproblem,actually,nottheleastofwhichismylevelofattractiontothisperson,whoisclearlythequeenofallassholesever,butI’mcutoffbyanothervoiceacrosstheroom.
“Morgan,right?”Alliesays,andIsnapmyheadtowardher.“Sitwithus.”Shetapsherpencilontheemptydeskbesideher.
Iflickmyeyestothegirlhoveringoverme,hesitanttoletherwin,butshelooksmoreboredthanannoyednow,soitdoesn’tseemlikeit’sworthtakingastand.Atleastnottoday.Igrabmybooksandslideoutofthechair.
“Toughfirstday?”AllieaskswhenIdropintotheseatbesideher.She’schangedoutofherrunningclothesandintoasoft-lookingsweater,thesleevespulleddownoverherhands.Herbrightrednailspeekout,instarkcontrasttothewhitenessofherskin.
“Somethinglikethat,”IanswerasMrs.Morrisonannouncessheleftahandoutintheofficeandwillberightback.Shetellsustoopentopage106andthendisappearsoutthedoor.
“So,thisisLydia.She’salsoonthetrackteam.”Alliepointstothegirlbesideher.
“Hey,Coachisampedyou’rehere,”Lydiasays,pushingbacktheblackhairthatfallsinloosewavesaroundherface.She’scutofftheneckofhertoo-largesweatshirtandslidonesidedownhershoulder,exposingevenmoreofherlightbrownskin.Theteachersatmyoldschoolwouldhaveaheartattack.
“Yeah?Howdoeseverybodyelsefeel?”JustbecauseCoachis“amped”doesn’tmeantherestoftheteamis.I’mabitofacontroversialrecruit.
AllieandLydiasharealookthattellsmeallIneedtoknow.
“Thatgreat,eh?”
Lydiatwirlsalittlebitofherhair.“Forthemostpartit’scool.Andtherestyoudon’thavetoworryabout.Youclearyourwaiverandgetustostates,andpeoplewilllooktheotherwayabouteverythingelse.”
Right.Everythingelse.Likethewholesuper-gaything,andthewholetransfer-or-be-expelledthing,andthewhole“gettingoneofmyD-Ioffersrevokedandtheotherput‘onpause’forgoingtothenewsaboutit”thing.But,hey,anycollegethatdoesn’tacceptme—allofme—isn’taschoolI’dwanttobeatanyway,right?Atleastthat’swhatItellmyselfwhenIwakeupeverymorning.
“Theyjustdon’twanttogetinvolved,”Alliecutsin.“Like,wedon’tcarethatyou’regayoranything.”Shewhisperstheword“gay”likeit’ssomekindofhorriblesecret.Which,no.
“Cool,well,Iactuallydocareaboutthat,”Isay,whichmakesanawkwardsilencestretchbetweenus,butIfigureit’sbettertogetthatoutintheopennowratherthanletmyselfbeshovedintothecloset.
Allielooksmortified.“Ohmygod,thatcameoutsowrong.Ofcourseyoudo.OfcourseIdo!It’scool!It’s—”
“Allie,shutup.”Lydiasmiles,leaningfartherforwardtofaceme.“Look,sinceweallmadethisweirdalready,I’lljustcomerightoutandtellyouthat,one,Allieputsherfootinhermouthalot,andtwo,I’mpan,soyou’renottheonlyqueergirlontheteam.WhenIsaidpeoplewilllooktheotherwayabouteverythingelse,Imeant,like,thebeing-kicked-out-of-your-schoolstuff.Nobodyontheteamcareswhoyou,me,Allie,oranybodyelseishookingupwith,aslongasitstaysoffthetrack.Atthispoint,we’realljustlookingtonailourmeetsandsurvivetheselastcoupleofmonths.AndIthinkit’sprettycoolthatyoufoughtyouroldschoolonthis.Itwasbullshitwhattheytriedtodotoyou.”
Ihadn’trealizedhowbigofaweightIhadfeltinmychest,untiljustnow,whenitalllifted.Ismileforthefirsttimealldayastheteacherreturns,wavingaroundabunchofpapers.
“Who’sreadytolearnaboutamendments?”sheasksinasingsongvoice.
???
“Sowhat’sherdeal?”Iasklaterthatafternoon,aftersportsstudyhall,whenwe’rewalkingonthetrackforwarm-ups.
AllieturnsherheadinthedirectionI’mlooking,wherethegirlfromthismorningissittingsurroundedbyagroupofotherkidsonthebleachers.“Who?”
Ishrug.“Idon’tknow.Thegirlfromclass,theonewhosaidItookherseat.”
“Yeah,that’sRubyThompson.I’drecommendstayingawayfromher.”
“Why.”
“Becauseshe’strouble?”AlliesaysatthesametimeLydiasays,“Becauseshe’samess.”
IglancetowardRubyonemoretime.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Um,whereshouldIstart?”Alliesays.“Besidesher,like,generalairofIwillkillyouifyoulookatmewrong?Let’ssee,she’sobnoxious,she’salwaysindetention,shekindofsleepsaround,shebarelytalkstoanyoneexceptfor,like,EverlyJones,andIsweartogodshehasTylerundersomesortofaspell.He’s,like,inlovewithher—”
“Wait,who’sTyler?”Iask.
Lydiashakesherhead.“TylerPortman.He’salacrosseboyandAllie’scrushsincesixthgrade.”
Itiltmyhead.“Soisthislikeamean-girlthing?Youtwodon’tlikeherbecauseofwhoshe’shookingupwith?”
“No,”Lydiasays.“Ignorethatpart.HerreputationforbeingtroublelongprecedesherandTyler,trustme.”
“Seriously,”Alliesays,takingmyhandandpullingmeclosertothetrack.“Avoid,avoid,avoid.Anddefinitelydonotdoanythingelsetogetonherbadside.”
“Shealmosthitmewithhercarthismorning.”Iwince.“AndthenImayhavesortofslammedmyhandsonthehood,soI’mprettysureI’malreadyonherbadside.”
Lydia’seyesgowide.“Youtouchedhercar?”
“Shealmosthitme!”
“Yeah,Iwouldhavejustlether,”Lydiasays.
Allienods.“Atleastit’dbeoverfaster.”
BeforeIcanrespond,Coachblowsherwhistle.
Practicehasbegun.5
RUBY
Icatchthenewgirl,alongwithLydiaRamírezandAlliefriggin’Marcetti,staringatmeastheystarttowarmup.I’msuretheythinkthey’rebeingsubtle,butthey’renot.Iwonderwhatthey’retellingher—probablysomethingalongthelinesofRuby’strash,stayaway,whichisfine.I’mnotastrangertopeopletalkingaboutme;Ijustwishtheywerebeingalittlelessobviousaboutit.
“Hey,Ruby,”Marcussays.Hegivesmyshoulderalightshoveashedropsontothebleachersbesideme,runninghishandsoverhisfadebeforepullingouthisAirPods.“Youthinkyoucouldtakealookatmymom’scarthisweekend?It’smakingarattlingsoundthat’sgotherstressingout.”
“Yeah,noproblem,”Isayasthevarsitygirlsstartrunningslowlapsaroundtheturfbelowus.“Youknowthedeal,though.”
Marcusnodssolemnly.“She’salreadygottheingredientsonthelist.”
Igrin.I’veknownMarcusWilliamssincewewerekids.Heandhismomliveontheothersideofthetrailerparkfromme.HismomusedtobabysitmesometimeswhenIwaslittleandmymomwasworkingdoubleshifts.Idon’trememberatonaboutthoseyears—it’skindofablurofpageantsandrandomsitters—butIrememberMrs.WilliamsmakesthebestmacandcheeseI’veevertastedinmylife.
Onetime,IworkedupthenervetoaskherifitwasVelveeta,becauseitsureashellwasn’tthestore-brandpowderedcheeseandpastathatIwasusedto.At$3.99abox,Velveetaalwaysfeltlikethisglorious,unobtainablething.Mrs.Williamsjustlaughed,though,andsaid,“No,baby,Imadethisfromscratch.”
Idon’tthinkI’deverreallyhadamealmadefromscratchbeforethat.NotthatMomdidn’ttry.Imean,shecantwirlameanbatonandsmilelikeamodelandtalkaboutwantingworldpeace,butherpageanttrainingdidn’treallycoverskillslike“howtoraiseababyatsixteenwhenyourmomkicksyououtandyourboyfriendditchesyou”or“yourtoddlerandyou:howtomakenutritious,homecookedmealsonatwo-dollarbudgetafterworkingadoubleshiftunderthetablewhenyou’rebarelyoldenoughtovote.”
Andevennow,theonlytimeIreallyhaveagoodmealiswhenMrs.Williamsneedsmetofixhercarup.SheandMarcussayIcancomeoveranytimetoeat,butInevertakethemuponit.Eatingotherpeople’sfooddoesn’tseemright,buttradingforitseemsfairenough
Everlycomesupbesideus,givingMarcusagood-naturedshovebeforedroppingdownnexttome.Hestaresatherwithbigpuppy-dogeyesasshepullsouthercameraandtriestokeepfromsmiling.They’vebeendancingaroundbeingtogetherforafewmonthsnow,andasmuchasitkillsmetosayit,Ithinkthey’dbeperfecttogether.We’rejoinedasecondlaterbyafewlacrossegirlfriendsandsomestragglers.
Thelacrosseteamhasa“friendly”scrimmagewithanotherschooltoday,andnormallyMarcuswouldbedownthereonthefield,buthe’s“notprogressingfastenough”throughtheconcussionprotocol,sohehastosititout.Technically,it’safriendlymatch,butIknowTyler’sstillgoingtogoallout.HewouldeveniftheguywhopeggedMarcusintheheadwithaball—costingthemtheirbestdefender—weren’tontheopposingteam.
Andmaybeitblursthelinesalittlebitformetobeheretocheerhimon,alongwiththerestofourcrewandtheslewoflacrossegirlfriends,butI’vegotnothingbettertodothisafternoon,andgodknowsIdon’tfeellikegoinghomenowthatChuckhastakenuppermanentresidenceinourlivingroom.
“Wemissanything?”oneofthegirlsbehindmeasks,andIrollmyeyesbecauseclearlytheguysarejustwalkingontothefieldnow.
“Justtherunnersstartingtheirdrills,”Everlysays,soundingbored.Sheraiseshercameraandstartssnappingpicsasthelacrosseteampoursoutofthelockerroomandontothefield.Tylerisinthecenteroftheherd,grinonhisface,helmetinhishand,whiletherestoftheteamping-pongsaroundhimlikegiant,sweatyversionsofmymother’sdogs.Idon’tknowhowhestandsit.
Iflickmyeyestothetrackjustintimetoseethenewgirlfinishfirst.Lydia,who’sbeenthefastestintheschoolsincetrack-and-fielddayinfourthgrade,finishesseveralfullsecondslater.Huh,Iguessthenewgirl’sactuallygood.Shefoldsherhandsupoverherheadasshewalks,hercheeksflushedfromtheeffort,herchestheaving,andthenshelooksrightatme.Isweartogodthewholeuniversefallsaway,andallIcanthinkofiswanting
Click.
Isnapmyheadtowardthesound.Everlylowershercameraandstudiesitsscreen.“Wow,thisisbeautiful.Ididn’tthinkI’devergetacandidofyou,whatwiththatstickyoukeepupyourassallthetime.”
“Deleteit,please,”Ibeg,andshefrowns.
“Why?Lookatit.”Sheholdsthecameratowardme,butIlookaway.Idon’twanttoseeit.Idon’twanttoknowwhatIlookedlikeinthesinglesolitarymomentIletmyselfgetcaughtupinher.Lockitdown,Ruby,Itellmyself,shovingthoughtsofthenewgirl,sweatyandbreathinghard,intothebiggestlockboxinmyheadwithahardnope
“Wow,she’sprettyfast,”oneofthelacrossegirlfriendssays.Idon’tbotherlearningtheirnames;theguysneverkeepthemaroundlongenough…andyetsomehowI’mtheonewiththereputation.
“Ithinkhername’sMorgan,”Marcussays.
Everlyturnsbacktohim.“It’sweirdthatshetransferredinsolateintheyear.”
“Iheardshecamefromsomerich-bitchprivateschoolinConnecticut,”anothergirlsays.
“IhearditwasaCatholicschool,andshepunchedanunorsomething,”thefirstgirlsays.
Marcusshakeshishead.“Nah,IheardAllietalkingaboutherlastweekinprecalc.She’ssomebig-dealtrackstarorsomething.She’sjustheretofinishouttheseasonandtakeustostates.AlliemadeitsoundlikeshemightgoD-I.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”Iask,becausetheonlyD1IknowofisthemakeandmodelnumberofthesparkplugsIhadtocustomorderforoneofBilly’sclientstheotherday.
Everlygripsmyshoulderandscrunchesupherfaceindisbelief.“HowcanyouwatchyourboytoyplaythismuchlacrosseandnotevenknowwhataDivisionIschoolis?”
“He’snotmyboytoy.”Ipushherhandaway.Sheknowsbetterthantodothis,especiallyinfrontofhisfriend.Andexcusemefornotknowing,butIguaranteeifIaskedhertoexplainthedifferencebetweenacupcakedressandanA-linegown,she’dbejustaslostasIamrightnow.
“Youhookupwithhim,don’tyou?”Marcusasks,pullingmefrommythoughts.“Andyouareheretowatchhimplay.Can’tblameanybodyforgettingideas.”
IlookatEverly,pleading—butinsteadoffindingsolaceinmybestfriend’sface,shejusttapshercamerascreen.“Imean,hehasapoint.Candidsdon’tlie.”
And,Oh,shit,Ithink,lookingatthepicture.IlooklikeI’mreadytojumpthefenceandpropose.
“Deletethat,”Isay,towhichEverlyreplies,“Nuh-uh,”clearlythinkingthisissomekindofjoke.
Butit’snotajoke;it’snot.EvenifEverlythinksIwaslookingatTylerwhenshesnappedthat,Iknowthetruth.AndIdon’tneeditstaringmeinthefacelikethis.
Suddenly,Ifeelclaustrophobic,thebleachersfillingupwithparentscomingtowatchthescrimmage,andI…Ican’tbehere.Igrabmybagoffthestepbesidemeandtrompdownthestairs,fightingagainsteagermomswithbabiesstrappedtotheirchests,andnearlytrippingoveradiaperbagintheprocess.
“Ruby,wait!”Everlysays,bouncingafterme.“Iwasjustmessingwithyou.Everybodyknowsyou’rejusthookingup.”
“Ohmygod.”Igroan,becauseshoutingthatdoesn’tmakethingsanybetter.“Canwedropit?”
EverlyscrunchesherfaceupintoherpatenteddidIgotoofar?pleasedon’tbemadlook.“Postgamemeetupatthediner?Ordoyouhavetoworktonight?”
“No,butIhaveataplessonatsixthirty.”
“Afterthat,then?”AndIdon’tmissthehopefulliltinhervoice.
“We’llsee,”Isay.IflipheroffasIwalkbackward,slappingonwhatmymomcallsmy“realistic”smile.Nottobeconfusedwithmyplease,judges,lookhowmuchtimeIspentbleachingmyteethsmileormywho,me?smile,whichIreserveforthepervierjudgeswhoprefertheircontestantscoy.
Everlylaughsandrespondsinkind,reassuredthatwe’restillcool.Butshedoesn’tseehowmyfacefallswhenIturnaroundorthewaymyeyeswellupwhenIgettomycar,google“divisionone,”andrealizethatit’sjustanotherthingoutofmyreach,likeVelveetamacandcheeseoramomwhoactuallylistens.
???
Billy’sgarageisonlyaboutaten-minutedrivefromschool.It’sarusted-outoldbuildingwithtwobayshousingcreakyliftsandglassonthedoorssodirtyyoucouldn’tseethroughitifyoutried.Outbackareabunchofoldjunkcarswescavengeforparts,andoutfrontaretwoten-year-oldpickuptruckshe’stryingtosellandacoupleclassiccarshewouldn’tpartwithevenonhisdeathbed.Isweartogod,he’sgonnaasktobeburiedinone.IfIgetasayinit,hewillbe.
Billy’sbasicallymydad.Well,stepdad.Ex-stepdad,technically.Myactualdadismoreofaspermdonorthanafather,soBilly’stheclosestthingIgot.HeandMomweremarriedforalmostsixyearsbeforethearguinggottoomuchforhimandtheysplitup.Idon’tblamehim;mymomisahardpersontolivewith.Hegaveitagoodrun.
Billy’stheonewhotaughtmehowtoworkoncars,andheletsmehideoutherewheneverIneedto.IfMomknewhowmuchtimeIspenthere,she’dprobablytrytoburntheplacedown.SheneverreallygotoverBilly—Ithinkshethoughthewasgoingtobetheonetostick.Andhehas,sortof,justnotforher.AddittothelistofthingsIfeelguiltyabout.
Ipullintomyusualspotoutsidetheoffice,feelingtheweightoftheday—andMarcus’scomments—slideoffme.Sure,thisplaceisashithole,butIcangetmyhandsdirtyandfeellikeI’mdoingsomethingwithmytime.Fixingsomethingbrokenjustfeelsgood.
IshutmycardoorasBillystepsout,wipingthesweatoffhisfacewithagreasyragandspittingintoanemptybottleofGatorade.Billydoesn’tsmoke—hesayshisshopistooflammable—buthedoesdip,whichisjustasgross.He’sfitforaguyinhisforties,andunlikemecomesbyhistannedskinnaturally.It’snotunusualforhimtopickupoddjobs—landscaping,roofing,whatever—whentheshopisslow.BillyandIarealikeinthatway.Webothprefercars,butneitherofusreallycareswhatwe’redoingaslongaswe’reworkingwithourhands.
Mymom,ontheotherhand,spendshertimetryingtokeepmestillandyellingaboutmymanicures.
“Ruby,”hesays,asmileonhislips.“Ididn’texpecttoseeyouheretoday!”
“Yeah,well,she’spullingalittletotheright,”Ilie.“Thoughtmaybeyoucouldtakealookwithme.”
Helooksmeupanddown,narrowinghiseyesbeforenodding.WebothknowI’vedoneenoughalignmentstofixthiswithmyeyesclosedifneeded.“Let’sgetheruponthelift,then,”hesays,notpryingorpressingtheissue.Healwaysgetsit—justbecauseapersondoesn’twanttobealonedoesn’tmeantheywanttotalkaboutit.6
MORGAN
“Hey.”Allieboundsupbehindme,flickingmyshoulder.I’mstudyingthelistofclubstackedtothebulletinboardinthemainlobbyoftheschool.Thefinalbelljustrang,andwhilemostkidsareheadingtotheirbuses,we’resupposedtobeonourwaytosportsstudyhallbeforepractice.
We’vefallenintoaneasyroutine,evenjustintheweekI’vebeenhere.IthoughtsomeofmyteammateswouldbepissedthatIshowedupoutofnowhere,butthey’vebeenmostlyreallynice.Ilow-keywonderifthelawsuitmyparentshavegoingagainstmyoldschoolhassomethingtodowiththat,butItrynottothinkaboutittoohard.
“Heyyourself,”Isay,pullingaPrideClubflyerdownandshovingthepinbackintothecorkboard.
“Youcomingtostudyhall?”
“Ikindofwanttocheckthisout,”Isay,becauseasidefromLydia,Ihaven’treallymetanyoneelsethat’squeerlikeme.Notthatit’sexactlyeasywhenyou’rethenewkid;youcan’tjustwalkuptosomeoneandbelike,Hi,I’msupergay.Areyou?despitewhatmymotherseemedtothinkwhenweFaceTimedlastnight.
“Ohh,veryonbrand,”Alliesays,eyeingtheflyer.
“Youwanttocome?”
Herfacefalls,justforasecond.Justlongenoughformetocatchit.“That’snotreallymykindofthing,”shesays,herdiscomfortcuttingmelikeaknife.
“Itsays‘allieswelcome,’”Ipress.“Whichyouare,so—”
“Iknow,andit’scoolandall.Idon’thaveaproblemwithanyonewhogoes.It’sjustnotmyscene.”
“DoesLydiago?”
Allieshakesherhead.“Uh,no,herparentsareverymuch‘looktheotherwayandpretendit’snothappening’whenitcomestowhoshe’sdating,andshe’sprettyquietaboutitatschool.Plus,Idon’tknowhowtheteamwouldreactifshereallyputitoutthere.”Shesaysitsortofoffhandedly,likeshe’stalkingtosomeoneelse—notsomeonequeerandontheteam.
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Oh!”shesays,hereyesgettingwide.“Ididn’tmeanyou.Nobodyfeelsweirdaboutyouoranything!Iswear!It’sjustLydiais…Lydia.Wegrewupwithher.It’sdifferent.”
“Okay.”I’mnotreallysurehowit’sdifferent,butalsoIdon’twanttolose50percentofthefriendsI’vemadesincemovinghereoverthiseither.
“We’reproudthatyou’reproud,butI’mnotproud.”
Inarrowmyeyes.
“Imean,I’mproudofyou!Obviously!ButIdon’thave,youknow,pride.”Shewhispersthelastword,and,ah,okay,Igetit.
“Iknowthatyou’restraight.That’swhyIpointedoutthewhole‘allieswelcome’thing.”
Sheseemsrelieved,likemaybeshethoughtIwasgoingtohitonherortrytoconvertherorsomething.AndeventhoughI’msmiling,insidemystomachhurts.Becausewhydoesthisalwayshavetobethishuge,awkwardthing?JustbecauseIlikegirlsdoesn’tmeanIlikeeverygirl.
Isighandspinaroundtorepintheflyerwhen—likethecherryontopofmysolidcrapsundae—RubyThompsonpushesthroughthethrongsofkidsaroundus,andIsmackherspectacularlywithmytrackbag.
“Jesus,Matthews,watchwhatyou’redoing,”shesaysasshestompspast.Iwatchhergo,tryingtostayannoyedandnotcareatallthatsheknowsmyname.Well,mylastnameatleast.Don’tcare.Notonebit.Whocares?Notme.
Dammit.Whydoesshehavetobesocute?
“Sorryaboutthat,”Alliecallsafterher,likeshecanactuallyapologizeforsomeoneelse.
Ishovethepininalittleharder,wishingIcouldstickapininmywholestupidcrush.“Isitjustme,orisRubyperpetuallypissed?”
“Wetriedtowarnyou.”Allietakesmyarm.“Avoid,avoid,avoid.”
“Itwouldbeniceifshedidn’thatemefornoreason,though.”
“Youdidtouchhercar.”Allielaughs.“Butseriously,don’ttakeitpersonally.TheonlythingsthatRubydoesn’tblatantlyhatearethatcarandTylerPortman’sdick,so.”
I’msocaughtoffguardthatIliterallychokeonmyspit.
“Whatdidyoudonow?”Lydiaasks,walkingupandfakeglaringatAllie.
“Nothing,Iswear.”Sheholdsupherhandsinsurrender.“Ithinkherbodyjustfull-onrejectsanymentionofdick.”
LydiasmacksAllie’sarm.
“What?It’strue!AllIsaidwasRubylikedTylerPortman’s—”
“Anywaaaaay,”Isay,desperatetochangethesubject.
LydiaholdsupherGovernmentbook,throwingmeabone.“Youready?”
“Um,actually,”Isay,slouchingalittle,“IthinkI’mgoingtogotothePrideClubmeetinginstead,butI’llmeetyouatthetrackforwarm-ups…unlessyouwanttocome?”IfocusonLydia,tryingtotelepathicallybeg.
Shehesitatesforhalfasecond,flickinghereyestoAlliebeforeshakingherhead.“No,Ihaveatonofhomework.SoI’llseeyouatpractice,then?”
“Yeah.”Iwatchthemwalkaway.“Seeyouatpractice.”
???
IhavenoideawhattoexpectwhenIwalkintothePrideClubmeeting.Wedidn’thaveanythinglikethisatmyoldschool.Justthethoughtofaclublikethisexistinganywhereprobablykeepstheheadmasterupatnightinacoldsweat.
MymouthgoesdryasIstepintotheroom.I’mdesperateforthespringyfeeloftartantrackundermyfeetorasphaltundermysneakersorliterallyanythingcomfortableandexpected.Running—runningIget,butthis…Idon’tknowwhatthisevenis.Whatdoesonedoinaprideclub?Isitahangout?Orisitlikegrouptherapy?ShouldIevenbehere?
Atmyoldschool,pridewasnotsomethingIwasallowedtohave—evenacceptancewasapparentlypushingtheenvelope.Itakeadeepbreathandthenanother.Thisisyourfreshstart,Iremindmyself.Youpromisedyourselfthis.Nomorehiding.Nomoreblendingin.Nomorerunningawayfromthetoughconversations.
Butthatdoesn’tmeanI’mreadytositfrontandcenterforthemeither.
Iheadstraighttothebackoftheroomandslideintoaseatintheverylastrow,tryingtoremaininconspicuouswhileIfeelthingsout.Thereareaboutadozenkidssittingupatthefront,somecross-leggedontopofdesks,someeatingsnacks,butotherthanafewcuriousglances,theymostlyignoreme.Idon’tknowwhatIwasexpecting—notagrouphugoragiantwelcomebanner,butmaybe,like,atleastalone“hey”or“hi.”
Ipulloutmyphoneandstartcheckingmytexts,notthatIhaveanygoodones.Mostofmyoldfriendscutmeoff,eitherbychoiceorbecausetheirparentsmadethem.Itwasliketheythoughttheycouldcatchthegay—ortheexpulsion—fromme.Atleasttherearelikeathousandtextsinthegroupchatbetweenme,myparents,andDylantocatchupon.IjumpinjustlongenoughtosayHi,I’malive,yes,I’mhavingagoodday,andno,Idon’tneedanyonetodriveoutandcheckuponmejustbecauseItooktoolongtorespondtoday.I’llseethematourregularfamilydinnerinafewdays—oneofmyparents’conditionsformymovinghere.
Myparentsareadmittedlykindoffreakingoutwithmegone.WhichIget.Ihadtomove;theydidn’t—orcouldn’treally,notwiththeirjobs.Butwithcollegeloominganyway,thisispracticallyatrialrunofasemesteraway…atleastthat’showI’mtryingtothinkaboutit.And,hey,peoplelosetheirfriendsbackhomeandmakenewonesincollegeallthetime.It’snormal.Thisisnormal.Istaredownatmynow-emptytextalerts.WhathappenedatSt.Mary’swasjustanaccelerationoftheinevitable,that’sall.Friendsmoveonafterhighschool.
“Oh!Wehaveanewfacetoday!”theteachersaysasshewalksin.It’sMs.Ming,myEnglishteacher.Iwasnotexpectingthat.“Happytoseeyouhere,Morgan.Iwashopingyou’dturnup.”
“Thanks,”Isay.
“Whydon’tyoucomeuphereandjoinus.”
Ihesitateforasecond,becausethisfeelsimportant.Thisfeelsbig.LikeafirststepIcanonlybarelyunderstandand—
“Wedon’tbite,”oneofthegirlssayswithafriendlysmile.ShehasoneperfectdimpleanddeepbronzeskinthatpopsagainstthebrightwhiteofherHarryStyleshoodie.IthinkIrecognizeherfrommysecond-periodclass.Anika,maybe?
“Speakforyourself,”anotherkidsays,lobbingacandywrapperatherandgnashinghisteeth.He’sEastAsian,Ithink,andwhenheturnstowardmewithawink,Irealizehe’swearingaHamiltonshirt.Ilikehimalready.
“Enough,Drew,”Ms.MingsayswithanimpatientsmileasItakeaseatnearthefront.“Brennan,willyouleadusofftoday?”
Theboysittingbesideme—Brennan,I’mguessing—flashesmeaneasysmilebeneathamountainofbrightredhairandfrecklesandthengrabsanotebookoffhisdesktojoinMs.Mingupfront.
Hestartstorunthroughwhathecalls“oldbusiness.”Apparently,he’sreviewingtheclub’sexpendituresandremainingbudgetafterarecentfieldtriptoseeThePromontour.Thewordswashoverme;I’monlyhalflisteningasIlookaroundtheroom,takingintheideathatallofthesekidsfromacrosstheentirehighschoolsocialscenearehereworkingtowardthecommongoalofacceptanceandunity.It’severythingIeverwanted,maybeevenneeded
ButIcan’thelpbutfeelthatsomething’snotquiteright.Something’smissing,andittakesmeaminutetofigureitout.Everygroupintheschoolseemstobehere,representedinthisroom,exceptone.Exceptmine.Iwaitforthemtowrapuptheupdates,andthenraisemyhand,notreallysurewhattheprotocolisbutwantingtogetMs.Ming’sattention.
“Youdon’tneedtoraiseyourhand,Morgan.Thisisn’taclass;it’saclub.”
“Sorry,”Isay,loweringmyarm.“Iwasjustwondering,um,ifanyschoolathletescometothesemeetings?”
Agirlturnsandglaresatme.“What,arewenotgoodenoughforyou?”
“No,that’snotwhyIasked.”
“Uh-huh,”shesays,andturnsbackaround.
“SportsandPrideClubdon’talwaysmixatthisschool,”aboysays,almostapologetically.
“Well,Idosports.Sport,really.Irun.Well,sportspluralifyoucounttrackandcross-countryastwodifferentthings,”Imumble.“Butyeah,IdosportsandI’dliketomix.”Acouplekidslaugh,andIblush.
“Lethertalk!”Drewsays,shuttingthemup.
“Wedidn’thaveanythinglikethisatmyoldschool.AndI’mstilltryingtofigureoutwhereIfitatthisnewone.Butifyou’resayingsportsandPrideClubdon’tmix,then…”Mywordstrailoff,myfaceburningasIstruggletoworkoutwhattosaynext.
AshortwhiteboywithdyedblackhairandthedarkestgreeneyesI’veeverseenstandsupandmovestotheemptyseatontheothersideofme.“Hi,I’mAaron,”hesays,holdingouthishand.“Gay,trans,he/him,andImaynotbeasportskid,butIcandefinitelykickyourassatkickball.”
Ishakehishandforwaytoolong,utterlycaughtoffguard.Andthenthegirlinthewhitehoodieraisesherhandwithalittlewave.“Hi,I’mAnika,queer,she/her,andIhatemostsports,butIcandoameandoggypaddle.Andyoumixwithus.Youdo.”
Istareatherforasecond,justkindofflooredbytheniceness,beforesheadds,“Now,areyouevergoingtotelluswhoyouare?”
AndwhoamI?It’ssuchaloadedquestion.OneI’vebeenrunningfromjustashardasI’vebeenholdingontoit.Butinthismoment,itfeelsright.Inthismoment,Iwanttoclaimit.Loudly.Andhopefullyneverstop.
Inthismoment,Ifeelproud.
“Hi,I’mMorgan.”MyvoicebreaksasIswallowbacksometears,becauseforthefirsttime,maybeI’mexactlywhereIneedtobe,exactlywhereIfit.“I’malesbian.She/her.AndIliketorun.”7
RUBY
“Shit,shit,shit.”Islammycardoorandsquealintoreverse.I’msolate.Momisprobablyalreadywaitingbackstageatthepageant,havingrushedtherestraightfromhernightshifttomakesureIdon’tscrewanythingup.AndIalreadyhave.Ineedtogetthere.Ineedto—
Iglanceattheclock.It’seightforty-fivea.m.,becauseIoversleptbecausemyphonediedbecauseitcouldn’tchargelastnightbecausemymomdidn’tpaytheelectricbill—again—andsincewe’reoutofthecoldestmonths,theelectriccompanycanlegallycutusoffnow.Whichisjustfabulous.
IknewIshouldn’thavepickedupthatnewdanceleotardshe’dputonlayaway.Iknewtheelectricwasdue—buthowdoyousaythattoyourmom?Howdoyouevenbegintosuggestthatmaybeyouknowbetterthanshedoeswheretoallocatethefewbucksyouhavetoyourname?HowdoyoutellherthatthisMissAmericapipedreamshehasisdelusionalatbest,consideringyouhaven’tmadeitfartherthanthirdrunner-upinapageantsinceyouwereten?
Simple:youdon’t.
Youswallowitdown.Evenifyouchokeoneveryword.Youlendheryourbodytochaseherdreams.Andyouactgratefulforit,becauseifyoudon’tshe’llremindyouofwhatshegaveupforyoueverychanceshegets.
IplugmyphoneintotheUSBchargerIinstalledinmycigarettelighterandhopeitbootsupfast.There’sagoodsongontheradioandIturnitup,tryingnottonoticetheclockhastickedoverto8:46.ItakeasharpleftontoMainStreet,mytiressquealingalittleinthecoolmorningair.Check-inendsat9:15,andParksideHall—homeoftheParksideBeautyPageant—isahalfhourawayeveninthebesttrafficconditions.IfImisscheck-in,I’llbedisqualifieddespitethefactthatwe’realreadyregisteredandpaid.
Okay,breathe.Icanmakeuptimeonthehighway.
Itakeanotherhardturnandflickmyeyestothedressrockingprecariouslyonitshangerintheback,prayingitdoesn’tfall.Idon’thavetimetostopthecarandpickitup,andgodknowsthewrinklesfromspendingthirtyminutescrumpledonthefloorwouldbeenoughtolosemethecompetition.
I’mslowingtoarollatastopsignwhenthehangerfinallylosesitsgriponthetinyhook.Thedressslidesdown,andI’mreachingbehindme,afutileattemptatavertingdisaster,whenIcatchmovementoutofthecornerofmyeye.
Islamonmybrakes,dramaticevenatthreemilesperhour,andfeelasmallthumpagainstmybumper.Myeyesgowide.Iovershotthestopsign.Oh,shit,shit,shit.There’ssomethingonthegroundinfrontofmycar.Pleasedon’tletitbeadog.Pleasejustletitbeoneofthoselawnbagsofleavesoragarbagecanorsomethingthatjust…happenedtobeinthemiddleoftheroad.Fornoreason.Shit.
Ishoveopenmycardoorandrunaroundthefrontjustasaverypissed-off-lookingMorganMatthewspushesherselfofftheground.
“Oh,thankgod!”Iyelp.“Ithoughtyouwereadog.”
“Whatthehell,Ruby!”Asmalltrickleofblooddripsdownthesideofherleg.Whichiswhenithitsme,likereallyhitsme,thegravityofwhatjusthappened.Ijusthitapersonwithmycar.MorganMatthews,tobeexact.
“Areyouokay?”Itakeastepforward,butshemovesbackwithawince.
“Getawayfromme.”Shelimpstothesidewalkanddropstothegrass.Isweartogodshelookslikeshe’sgoingtocry,and,ohgod.Oh,shit.Ican’tdealwiththis.
“Ididn’tseeyou.Iswear.”
“Iwasinthecrosswalk!Howdidyou‘notseeme’?”shesays,herfingersflyinguptomakeairquotes.
“Mygownwasfalling!”Okay,that’sprobablynotthebestexcuse.Sheglaresatmeandrubsherhip.
Ilookatmycarandthenather.Ireally,really,reallyhavetogo,butIcan’tleaveherlikethis.
“Oh,don’tletmeholdyouupjustbecauseyoumowedmedownwithyourstupidcar.”
Myannoyanceattheword“stupid”flaresup,butIletitgo.Notthetime,lizardbrain.
“Hangon.”Irunandgrabahandfulofnapkinsoutoftheglovecompartmentandthencarrythemovertoher.“You’rebleeding.”
“Thanks,Inoticed.”Shesnatchesthemfrommyhandsanddabsattheroadrashrunningupthelengthofherrightthigh.
“Areyouokay?”Iaskagain,onlytobemetwithyetanotherglare.Yeah,Iprobablydeservethat.
“Justgo.”Hervoicebreaks,andyikes,I’veneverbeengoodwithemotions.It’stoouncomfortable;it’stoomuch.I’mtemptedtoleave.Infact,everyinstinctistellingmetodojustthat;she’seventellingmetodothat.Plus,there’sstillachanceIcanmakeittothepageant,smallandfleetingasitmaybe.
Butthenshesniffles,andit’slikemywholeheartclenchesupforasecond.Idropontothegrassnexttoher,feelingalittlebitlikeI’mgoingtothrowup.“Look,I’mreallyfuckingsorry,Matthews.Areyou…CanItakeyoutothehospitalorsomething?”
“ExcusemeifIdon’ttrustyourdriving,”shesnaps,dabbingatherlegalittlemore.AndIdidthattoher.It’smyfault.Thistotallynicenewgirlissittingherebleedingbecauseofme,becauseIscreweverythingup.AndnowI’mgoingtomissmypageant,andmymom’sgonnaloseitand…
Andnowit’smewhofeelslikecrying,whichabsolutely100percentcannothappen.Iburymyforeheadinmyhandsandtakeadeep,shakybreath,waitingforthestingingbehindmyeyestostop.
“Hey,”Morgansays,herhandonmyarm,“Iwon’t,like,sueyouorcallthecopsorwhateverifthat’swhatyou’refreakingoutabout.”
Iscoffandlookather—justthefactthatshethinksmyfamilyhasanythingworthcomingafterproveshowlittlesheknowsme.ButthenIremembertherumors,thatshe’ssuingheroldschool,heroldcoach.Maybethat’sjustwhatshedoes.Once,acreditcardcompanysuedMomandtookhalfherpaycheck.Halfofnotmuchstillfeltlikealotofeverything.
IlowermyheadbetweenmylegsandfeellikeI’mgoingtopassoutbecauseIwon’tsueyousoundsalotlikewhatsomeonesayswhentheyaregoingtosueyou.Ihavetofindawaytofixthis.
“I’msorry,”Isay,lookingupatherwithasmuchsincerityasIcanmuster.BecauseIamsorry.Iam.“Butyoushouldknowifyousueus,youwon’tgetveryfar.”
Morganraisesaneyebrow,likeitwasadareorathreat,andIcantellshemisunderstood.
“Idon’thaveanythingforyoutoget.That’sallImeant.Wedon’tevenhaveelectricityrightnow.”Idon’tknowwhyIjusttoldherthat,andshit,herecomethewaterworks.Irubatmyeyes,andshe’spoliteenoughtopretendshedoesn’tnotice.
“It’sgoingtobeokay.”Shesqueezesmyshoulder,andI’mnotsureifIshouldleanintoitorpullaway,buteverythingIlockedinthatlittleboxinmybrainlabeledMORGANMATTHEWSissuddenlytryingtoclawitswayout.
Morganletsherarmdrop,andIsettlemyhandinthegrassasclosetohersasIdare.ItrytoforceoutaperfectMissCongenialitysmile,butitfaltersonmyfacewhenoureyesmeet.She’slookingatmelikesheactuallycares.Likesheactuallywantstomakeitbettersomehow.
“It’sreallynot.I’msupposedtobeatapageantinliketenminutes.Mymomisgonnakillme,andwereallyneededtopaysomebillswiththemoneyshespentontheentryfee.EvenifIpickupextrashiftsatmypageantcoach’sstudio,it’sstillnotgoingtobeenough,and…Jesus,fuck,whyamItellingyouthis?”Isuckbacksomesnot.“Idon’teventellpeopleIlikethis.”
Shehuffsoutalaugh.“I’llpretendyoudidn’tjustsaythat.”
“Ididn’tmean…Ijustdon’treallyknowyou.Youknow?”Andyouconfusethehelloutofme,Ialmostadd.Itakeadeepbreath,pullingmyselftogetherasmuchasIcan.“Look,areyousureyoudon’tyouwanttocallthecopsorsomething?Jailmightbebetterthanfacingmymom.”
“Doyou…CanIhugyou?”
“What?”
“You’refreakingout.AndwhenI’mfreakingout,Ialwayswantah—”
Morgan’scutoffwhenapolicecruiserpullsupnexttomycar,turningonitsflashersandlettingoutalittlewhoopwhoopofthesirenasthedriverputsitinpark.Andofcourse,it’sDeputyDavis.MyelementaryschoolD.A.R.E.officer…andalsotheguywho’sbeencalledtoourhouseonmorethanoneoccasionfordomesticsbetweenmymomandChuck.Sometimeshetakesher;sometimeshetakeshim.Iguesstodayit’sfinallymyturn.
“HowdidIknowitwasyou,Ruby?”heasksashewalksover,puffingouthischest.“Wegotacallaboutanaccidentinvolvingapedestrianandan‘oldbluesportscar.’”
“It’snotasportscar;it’sa—”
“Miss,”hesays,cuttingmeoffandturningtoMorgan.“CanIgetyourname?I’llgetsomemedicsonthewayforyou,andthenwecanfigureoutifthisisgoingtobeaticketorachargeforourfriendhere.”
Oh,god.Iwaskiddingaboutthewholejailthing.Idon’t…Ican’t…IgrabMorgan’shandwithoutthinking,squeezingitalittleasItrytotampdownthefear.Shefreezesbesidemebutthengentlysqueezesback.
“I’msorry,Officer,Ithinkyouhavethewrongidea,”Morgansays,hervoiceslicingthroughmypanic.“Iwasrunning,andIsteppedoffthecurbwrong—Rubystoppedtohelpme.I’mjustluckyshecamealong.Pleasedon’tcallanambulance.It’sjustascrape,Iswear,andyou’llgetmyparentsworriedfornothing.”
DeputyDavislooksfromhertome,suspicionstillclearinhiseyes.“Areyousureyoudon’twanttoatleastgetcheckedout?”
“Onlyifyoucovermycopay,”shesayswithafriendlysmile.“Ireallyappreciateyourhelp,sir,butthisjustcallsforsomeNeosporinandaBand-Aid.”
“Doyouneedaridehome?”heasks,andmyjawalmosthitstheground.Iknew,theoretically,thatsomepeopleactuallygotthe“serve”partof“protectandserve.”I’vejustneverseenitbefore.
“I’mgivingherone,”Isay,feelingsuddenlyprotective.“Iknowher;wehaveaclasstogether.”
Hetakesonelonglookatbothofusandthennods,headingbacktohiscar.Idon’tdarebreatheuntilhepullsaway.
“Youdidn’thavetodothat,”Isayquietly.“Butthankyou.”
Sheshrugs,likeit’snobigdeal.Exceptitisabigdeal.It’saverybigdeal.NowIoweher.Andwe’re…stillholdinghands.
Ipullmyhandaway,watchingherface.“Whydidyou?”
“Idon’tknow,”shesays,hercheeksgettingalittlered,andthenwe’rebothquiet.
“Comeon,let’sgetyouhome.”Istandupandholdoutmyhand.
Shehesitates,butthenletsmehelpherup.“It’sfine.Icanwalk.Ifyouhurry,canyoustillmakethepageant?”
“Nah,I’llgiveyouaride.I’llfigureoutthepageantthinglater,”Isay,eventhoughthere’snothingtofigureout.It’stoolatetomakeitontime,themoneyspentnowdoublywasted.MystomachchurnsatthethoughtofaskingBillyforanotherloan,butIpushitdown.That’saproblemforfutureRuby.PresentRubyneedstogetMorganhome.
Ipullopenthesidedoor,notmissinghowshewinceswhenshesitsdownasIcrossovertomysideofthecar.
“I’minMelbourneApartments,”shesays,andInod.That’sareallydecentapartmentcomplex,rightinthecenteroftown.Figuresshewouldlivethere.Sheshiftsinherseat,clearlyuncomfortable.
“Yousureyoudon’twanttoatleastgotoanurgentcare?”Ihandheranothernapkinforherleg.“Isthecopayreallythatbad?”
“Ican’triskmybrotherfindingoutandtellingmyparents.”
“Yourbrother?”
“Yeah,he’sbeentryingtoactlikesuperdadorsomethingsinceImovedinwithhim.IfIendupinurgentcare,he’llflip,andthenmyparentswillflip,andprobablymynewcoachtoo.AndifadocsaysIcan’trun…Ican’triskthat.Notthisclosetotheendoftheseason.Notwhenwe’restillfightingforthewaiver.”
“Whatwaiver?”
Shefrowns.“Longstory.”
“Butyoucanbarelywalk…”
Morgantiltsherhead.“Doesn’tmeanIcan’trun.”
“Yeah,itsortadoes.”
“I’verunthroughworse,”shemumbles,reachingforthestereo,probablytosignifytheconversationisover.Normally,Iwouldloseitonsomeonedaringtotouchmystereo,butforsomereasonIlether.Itellmyselfit’spenanceforalmostkillingher.
WhenwefinallygettoMelbourne,shedirectsmetoherapartment.It’smoreofatownhouse,really—itevenhasagarage.Ican’timagine.IfIhadgaragespacetomesswithmycarathome,Idon’tthinkI’deverleave.
“Thisisreallynice.”
“Thanks,”Morgansaysinacasualwaythattellsmeherparents’houseisprobablyevennicer.“Youwanttocomein?Mybrother’satwork.”
Definitelynot,Ithink,buttheboxoffeelingsinsidemybrainrattles.Ibitemylipbeforeanswering,“Yeah,sure,”andturningoffmycar.Shegetsoutwithatinygrunt,shiftingalittleextraweightontothecardoor.IhatethatIcausedthis,butIalsoweirdlyrespectthefactthatshe’sdeterminedtopretendnothinghappened.
Herhouseissparselydecoratedbutclean.Youcantelladudeputittogether,butalsothatthedudeisn’tatotalscumbag.Likethere’sabeerbottleontheendtable,butit’sonacoaster.There’saleathersofatooneside,andahugeTVwithacouplegamingsystemsontheothernexttoagiantautographedpictureofGigiHadid.Ifighttheurgetoaskherifthepicturebelongstoherorherbrother.Therearerumorsaboutheratschool,butit’sreallynoneofmybusiness.Godknowshalftherumorsaboutmearen’ttrue.
Morgankicksoffhershoesbythedoorandlimpsintotheroom,slumpingonthecouchwithasigh.Istandawkwardlybytheentryway,notsureexactlywhattodonowthatI’mhere.Iwanttobehelpful,but…
“Wantmetogetyousomeice?”Iask,andshesmiles,likeIwasn’ttheonewhojusthitherwithmygoddamncar.
“That’dbegreat.It’sinthefreezer.”
Iletoutalittlelaugh.“Ifigured.”
Shedropsherhead.“Right,yeah.”
Islideoffmyshoesandheadintothekitchen.It’sbiggerandnicerthanmine,withasparklingsilverfaucetandnotasinglestraycrumbonthecounter.Thefridgeisoneofthosewithdoubledoorsandagiantslide-outfreezerunderneath.Iopenit,justtotakeapeek,andammetwithmorefreshproducethenI’veeverseeninmyentirelife.There’slikeamonth’sworthofgroceriesinhere.
“Everythingokay?”shecallsfromthelivingroom,andIhearherturnontheTV.
“Yeah,yeah,great.”IslideopenthefreezerandgrababagofNOWTOTALLYORGANIC!flash-frozenpeasoffthetopandthenaLaCroixfromthefridgedoorforgoodmeasure.AlittlethrillrunsthroughmeasIwalkbackintotheroom,becauseforonce,Iamnotscrewingup.
MorganarchesaneyebrowwhenIsitonthecoffeetableandhandherthepeas.
“Foryourhip,”Isay,likeitshouldbeobvious.I’mnotsurewhyit’snot.
Shetakesitfrommeandanglesherselftorestitacrossherside.“Thanks.”
Icrackopentheseltzerandpassittoher.“Ifiguredyoumightbethirstyafteryourrun.”
Shesmilesalittlewiderandreachesforit,whichmakesthebagofpeasslip.Igrabthemquickandtuckthemaroundher.Myhandaccidentallycatchesontheedgeofhershirt,myfingertipsgrazinghersoft,warmskin.Ilingerwithoutrealizingituntilthesoundofherbreathcatchingsnapsmeoutofit.
“Sorry,Ijust—sorry.”
MorganclearsherthroatasItuckmyhandsintomypockets.“There’sanewrom-comthatjustdroppedonNetflix.Wanttowatch?Iguessit’saboutthisgirlwho—”
IglanceattheTV.“Iknowwhatit’sabout,”Isay,gratefulforthesubjectchange.“Everly’sobsessed.ShehasthismassivecrushonNoahCentineo.”
“Validchoice,butIhavetosayMadelainePetschismoremystyle.”
Hereyesmeetminewhenshesaysthat,butIlookaway,becauseasmuchasIwanttostayinthisstrangelittlebubblewhereaccidentallyhittingherwithmycarleadstousbothsmilingandwatchingNetflix,Idon’twanttoleadheron.IknowIcan’thavethis.Whateverthisevenis.
EventhoughIescapedDeputyDavis,Idefinitelyhaven’tescapedmymom.
“Ihavetogo,”Isay,soundingsadderthanImeanto.“CanIgetyouanythingelsefirst,though?”
“Yousureyoucan’tstay?”
“Someothertime,”Ilie.
“I’mgoingtoholdyoutothat.”
Youcantry.8
MORGAN
I’monmythirdNetflixrom-com—andstilltryingtodecidewhetherRubyhittingmewithhercarandhandingmeabagoffrozenpeasthismorningconstitutesameet-cuteornot—whenmyparentsgethere.Dylanisn’thomeyet—hehadtopickupthepizzasfortonight’sfamilydinner—soIgetthehonorofflingingthedooropenandgettingsmotheredbytheirhugsfirst.
Mom’swearingherwoolcoateventhoughit’salmostspring,andIinhalehard,tryingtocatchthescentofhome.
“Wemissedyou,kiddo,”Dadsays,droppinghisone-armedhugandcarryingabagovertothecounter.“It’sbeentooquiet.”
Iuntanglemyselffrommymomandfollowhim.“What’sinthebag?”
Hepullsitopentoshowmeamassivecontainerofhisfamoushomemadepeanutbuttercookies.Dadpeelsupacornerofthelidwithasmile.“Freshfromtheoven!Stillwarm.Orrather,theywereanhourandahalfago,whenwegotonthehighway.”
Idon’tevencare.I’vemissedmydad’scookingsomuchIcan’tstandit.Dylanispracticallyuseless,whichmeansI’vebeensurvivingmostlyontakeoutandfrozenfoodsinceIgothere.Ireachmyhandout,practicallydrooling,butDadsnapsthelidshutandpushesthecontainerbehindhim.
“Notuntilyou’vehaddinner,”hesays,pointinghisfingeratmesternly.
Hemakesitabouttwosecondsbeforewebothdissolveintolaughter.
“Wow,Dad,soconvincing.”
“It’snothisfault,honey.He’soutofpractice.”
“Yeah,there’snooneathometosneakcookiesbutyourmother,”hesays,kissingheronthecheek.
Dylanwalksinrightthen,alargepizzaboxwithseveraltakeoutcontainersbalancedinhishandsandatwo-literoforangesodawedgedprecariouslyunderneathhisarm.
“Littlehelp?”hecalls,andweallrushoverashekicksthedoorshutwithhisfoot.
DadandItakethefoodintothekitchenandstartsettingupthetablewhileMomandDylansharealonghug.
Itdoesn’ttakelongoncewe’reallsittingaroundthetablefortheconversationtoturnfromday-to-daycatchinguptotherealelephantintheroom.MainlybecauseIcan’thelpbutbringitup.It’sbeentwoweekssinceImovedinwithDylan,andupdatesonthelawsuithavebeenalmostnonexistent.Dylansaysthey’reprobablyjusttryingtoshieldmefromit,butIdon’twantshielding;Iwanttobeapartofit.
“Soooo…”Idragthewordoutuntileveryonelooksup.“AnyupdatesfromBrian?”
BrianMasterson,partneratMasterson&WilcoxAttorneysatLaw,istheleadonourcase.He’stheonewhosendsmequestionsandrequestsforstatementsandstuff—well,hisassistant,anyway.Butanytrueupdatesarefilteredthroughmyparentsfirst,likeI’manafterthoughttohim,eventhoughthiscaseisforandaboutme.
“Nothingimportant,”Momsayscheerfully,grabbinganothergarlicknot.
“Howabouttheunimportantstuff?”Iask.
Dadsighs.“Thesethingstaketime,Morgan.Youcan’texpectresultsovernight.”
“Idon’texpectresultsovernight,butI’dliketobekeptintheloopthewayIwaswhenIwasstillhome.I—”
“Thewholepurposeofyoucomingherewastogiveyouafreshstart,”Momcutsin.“Ifyou’rejustgoingtobeworryingaboutitallthetime,thenyoumightaswellhavekepthomeschoolingwithus.”Shesqueezesmyhand.“We’reonlyacouplemonthsin,andBriansaidthesethingsmoveincrediblyslow.Iwantyoutoenjoywhat’sleftofyoursenioryear.”
“I’mgood.Itoldyou.I’msettlingin.I’mmakingfriends.I’mdoingasmuchnormalkidstuffaspossiblewhenyou’rearunnerbannedfromrunningandyourcollegedecisionisupintheair.Iknowwhatyou’retryingtodo,butnotknowingwhat’sgoingonisjustfreakingmeoutmore.”
Iglanceatdad.Hiselbowsareonthetable,hishandsclaspedinfrontofhismouththewayhedoeswheneverhe’sthinkinghardaboutsomething.
“Dad?”
Heclearshisthroatandsitsupstraighter.“St.Mary’sofferedusadeallastweek.”
IcantellbyhowhardMomexhalesthathewasn’tsupposedtomentionthis.
“Adeal?”Dylanasks,hiseyesshiftingfromDadtomeandbackagain.“Whatkindofadeal?”
“They’llsupportthewaivergoingthroughandgivea‘positivereference’toanyorallofyourofferingcolleges.”
“Inexchangefor…?”Itrailoff,mykneestartingtobounce.
“Droppingallcivilactions.”
Iletoutanervouslaughandrubmyhandovermyforehead.“Yousaidno,right?”
“We’restillconsideringallofouroptions,but—”
“WhatdoesBriansay?”
“Brianthinksit’safairoffer,”Dadsays.“You’dgetbackeverythingtheytriedtotakefromyou.You’dbeingoodstandingagain.Youcouldrun—”
“Afairoffer?AfterwhatIwentthrough?”
“Maybeyoushouldconsiderit,”Dylanpipesup,butIshoothimalookthathashiminstantlydivingintothepizzaboxtoavoidmygaze.
“Iwantthistomeansomething.Ineedsomethinggoodtocomeoutofit,notjust‘Morgangetstorunagain.’Whattheydidtome,howtheymademefeel…nobodyshouldhavetogothroughthat.Andthereareotherqueerkidsatthatschool…”
“Iknow,baby,”Momsays,andmyeyesstarttowellup.
“DoesBrianthinkwehavetotakethedeal?Dowehavetogiveup?”Iask,myvoicewavering.
And,god,hereIreallythoughtgettinghitbyacarwasgoingtobetheworstthingtohappentometoday.
“No,no,”Momsays,rubbingmyarmreassuringly.“We’renotgivingup.”
“Beth,”mydadsays.
“Wearenotgivingup,”mymomsaysagain,lookinghimintheeye.“Therearejustafewhiccupswehavetodealwith.”
“Like?”
“Forone,Briansaystheharassmentclaimisn’tgoingtogoanywherebecauseyougaveasmuchasyougotatfirst,andweneedtomakeyoulookassympatheticaspossible—”
“That’shardlythebiggestissue,”Dadinterrupts.
Ilookbetweenthem.“Thenwhatis?”
Dadpurseshislips,likehe’sdecidinghowmuchtosay.“BecauseSt.Mary’sisaprivateschool,allthetypicalfreedomofspeechanddiscriminationlawsdon’tapply.”
“Areyouserious?”Angerwellsupinsideofme.“Sothiswasallfornothing?”
“No,”Dadsays.“No.Thepublicityfromthislawsuitputtremendouspressureonthem.They’rewillingtobackoffonthewaiverstuffnow,andbeforetheywouldn’tevenconsiderit!Icallthatawin.You’dgetyourlifeback.”
“That’sit?”Ishout.“Theyjustgetawaywithit,then?”
Dadsighs.“Morgan—”
“ThereisprecedentinCalifornia,”Momcutshimoff.“Thestateruledthatprivate-schoolstudentsdon’tlosetheirconstitutionalrightsatthedoor.Wecantrytorunituptheladderhereandseewhathappens.Briansaysit’saslimchance,butpossible.”
“Okay.”Itakeadeepbreathandtrytocalmdown.“Okay,thenwekeepfighting,right?Aslimchanceisbetterthannone.”
“Wecantry,honeybun,”Momsayswithasoftsmile.
Dadgetsupandclangshisdishesloudlyinthesink.Hestandsthereforamoment,headhung,fingersclenchingthecounter,butwhenheturnsaround,afamiliarsmileisfixedonhisface.“Isthereagameon,Dyl?”
“Um,yeah,”mybrothersays,carryinghisownplatetothesinkandthenpullingacouplebeersoutofthefridge.“YankeesversusRedSoxstartedaboutfifteenminutesago.”
Dadcracksopenabeerandgulpsdownhalfofitinonesolidswig.“Go,Yankees.”9
RUBY
MymotherspendsalldaySaturdaycrying.
Isitinthedarkwithherandapologizeoverandoverformissingthepageant.Ipromisetogetthemoneytocoverboththeregistrationfeeandtheelectricbilluntilshefinallyfallsintoafitfulsleep.Tonightishernightofffromwork.Sheonlyallowsherselfoneaweek,andnowI’vegoneandscreweduphersleepschedulewithallmydrama
AtleastChuckisn’there.HetoldMomhewasgoingonsomehuntingtripwithbuddies.Shebelievedhim,eventhoughIdon’tthinkit’shuntingseasonforanythinginthisstate.Whatever.Notmyproblem.
Ituckherinandgotomyroom,tooembarrassedtocallEverlyandtellhertheelectricity’soutagain,andnotwantingtoriskwastingmyphonebatteryanyway.It’stoodarktoreadnow,andthere’snothingelsetodoandnowheretogo,soIliedowninmybeddrowninginmythoughtsasthemoonlightglintsoffallthetrophiesIwonwhenIwaslittle.
Momkeepsthemondisplayonashelfinmyroom.Shewon’tletmetakethemdown,despitethefactthatthelastoneIearnedwasnearlysixyearsago.Idon’tknowwhyshelikesthemsomuch.Maybebecauseit’sproofwewerehappyonce.Weweregood.Wewerewinners.Ormaybeshejustlikestolookatshinythings.
Thebiggesttrophyloomsoverallofthem,tallandimposinginawaythat’ssupposedtoinvokepridebutreallystrikesfear.ExceptIdon’thateitthewayIhatetheothers.Becausethatone…thatonewasfromwhenitwasstillfuntoputontapshoesandsmileforthejudges.Iwasonlyeight,andwhenMomtoldmeIwasgoingtobeMissAmericasomeday,Istillbelievedit.Istillwantedit.
Whentheyputthatcrownonmyheadandhandedmethattrophy,allIcaredaboutwashowbigmymomgrinnedandhowrareofasightthatwas.Butitdidn’tstopthere.Therewereribboncuttingsandfundraisers,andonceIeventhrewthefirstpitchataminorleaguegame.Iwassoproud.Momwassoproud.
Itdidn’tmatterthatwelivedonramenandpancakes.Ihadn’tyetcaughtonthatsomepeoplealwayshadhotwaterandphonesthatworkedandTVswithtoomanychannelstocount.Ihadn’tyetfiguredoutthatwewerelessthan,notequalto.
Butthenthingschanged.
Notrightaway,orallatonce,butinquiet,subtlewaysthatweresomehowjustasjarring.ItwaslikemywinningLittleMissHolloransetsomethingonfireinmymother.Atfirst,itwasextrapageantsatthemalls,themeaninglessones—“Onlyforpractice,mysweetgirl,”shewouldsay.Andthencamethepageantcoachesanddanceinstructorswhothoughttoughlovewastheonlylove.
AndthenIgrewtallerandolder,andmakeupwasn’tenough.Itwastanningandbleachingandwaxing.Itwasfakeeyelashesandhairextensionsandshoesthatpinchedandhurt.Itwasdancelessonsuntilmylegsburned,andinterviewprepuntilImemorizedtheanswertoeveryquestionfrom“Whatsetsyouapartfromtheothercontestants?”to“What’sthebiggestissuefacingoureducationsysteminthiscountry?”
Andallthetimethefireragedinsidemymomuntilitburnedbothofusdown.GonewasSweetgirlandinitsplacewereStopcomplainingandDoyouknowhowmuchthatcostme?
Evenwhenthetrophiesstopped,thepageantskeptcoming.AndnowI’meighteen,olderthanmymomwaswhenshehadme,andI’mstilltryingtomakeituptoher.Deepdown,I’mscaredIneverwill.ThateverybreathItakefortherestofmylifewillbelongtoher.ThatI’llneverbeanythingmorethanabrainstuckinsideabodymoremymother’sthanmyown.ForcedtoliveoutthelifeIstolefromherforever.
???
IwakeupearlyandgotoBilly’s.Heisn’tinyet,soIsitonthestoopandwait.I’mnotevensupposedtobeheretoday.I’mdueatthestudiosoontohelpmypageantcoachwithherclasses—afutileattempttoworkoffmyownever-accruingbill—soheknowssomething’swrongwhenheseesme.AndeventhoughItrytogetaroundit,askingforextrahoursortopawnsomepartsfrommycar,hefiguresmeout,sendingmehomewiththebreakfastsandwichhepickeduponhiswayinandenoughcashtocoveralltheexpenses.
Hecallsitanadvanceonfuturepay,butwebothknowitisn’t.
Idriverealslowthewholewayhome,lookingbothways,goingunderthespeedlimit.IcometothesamestopsignwhereIcollidedwithMorganandcan’thelpbutthinkofthewayherlipscurvedupwhenIhandedheradrink.ThewayshesqueezedmyhandbackwhenIwasscared.
ButthenwhenIpullintomydriveway,IhearmymomandChuckarguing,andIrememberalltenthousandreasonswhyIshouldn’tevertalktoheragain.10
MORGAN
RubyThompsonisavoidingme.
Atfirst,IthoughtIwasreadingtoomuchintoit.Butafternearlyaweekofherskippingoutoneyecontactandmetryingnottogetcaughtstaringatherinclasswithpuppy-dogeyes,thereisnomistakingit.It’sdeliberate.
God,whydoIalwaysgoforgirlslikethis?
Ishouldhavelearnedmylessonatmyoldschool.Ididlearnmylessonatmyoldschool.ButhereIamanyway,sneakingglancesatthebleachersasIrunlapsaroundthetrackwithLydia,hopingsheshowsupagain.Whichshehasn’t,notonceallweek,eventhoughherfriendshavebeenhereandthatguyTylerisalwayspracticinginthecenterofthefield.
Realtalk,Rubycouldbestraight.Imean,Iknowlogicallythat’sapossibility.Astrongpossibility.Thestrongestofpossibilitiesever,ifweaccountforthecaptainofthelacrosseteam.MaybeI’mreadingtoomuchintoeverythingthathappened.Maybeshejustfeltguiltyforalmostrunningmeoverandwastryingtobepolite…butthenagain,maybeI’mreadingthingsexactlyright,andthat’stheproblem.Maybeshe’sscared.
IglanceattheRuby-lessbleachersagain,justasLydialaughsandpullsaheadatthelastsecond.Webothcrossthelineandbendover,handsonourhipsaswetrytocatchourbreath.
“You’reelevensecondslate,Matthews,”Coachbarksasshewalksover.Irubmyhipwithoutthinkingaboutit,andsheraiseshereyebrows.“Youstillsore?”
“No,Coach,”Ilie,straighteningup.“I’mgood.”
Shescribblessomethingdownonthepagesofherclipboard.“Iwantyoutorestit.Taketheweekendoff.”
“Idon’tneedto.”
“I’mnotasking;I’mtelling.”CoachlooksmeintheeyebeforeturningherattentiontoLydia.“Goodworktoday,Ramírez.”
“Ugh,”LydiagroansafterCoachwalksaway.“Runningwithoutyouthisweekendisgoingtobesoboring.Alliecanneverkeepup.”
“Atleastyougettogo.”Isigh.Missingevenourunofficialrunsmakesmewanttocrawloutofmyskin.
“Hey,adayortwoofffromrunningisn’ttheendoftheworld.Weallseehowhardyou’retryingnottolimpinfrontofus.”
“Amnot.”
Lydiaarchesaneyebrow.“I’mstillnotbuyingthatwhole‘steppedoffacurbweird’excuseyougaveCoach.”
Ishrugbecausethisislikethefifthtimeshe’striedandfailedtosniffoutthetruth.“GuessIjustbruiseeasy?”IsayasIsneakanotherglanceatthebleachers.
“Whoareyoulookingfor?”Allieasks,trottingovertojoinus.“Isyourbrothercoming?”Sheflashesahopefulsmile.She’sbeensemi-crushingonDylansincecomingoverafterpracticeafewdaysagotohangout.ItwouldprobablybedisturbingifDylanactuallynoticed.Fortunately,he’scompletelyoblivious.AndI’mprettysurehe’ssuperintothiswomanwhobringsherthree-year-oldintohisshopforhaircuts—evenifhewon’tadmitityet.
“Sorrytodisappoint,buthe’sworkinguntilseventoday.”
“Thenwho?”sheasks,apuzzledexpressiononherfaceasshefollowsmylineofsight.
“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.Iwasjustzoningout.”Crap.Ididn’tthinkIwasbeingthatobvious.
“Maybeshe’slookingforthereasonshegainedelevensecondsontheeighthundredtoday,”Lydiasays.
“No,she’sdefinitelylookingforsomeone.”Allietapsherchin.“Ifit’snotyourdashingbigbrother…Ohh!IsitsomeonefromPrideClub?”Shestudiesmyface.“Ohmygod,youdidmeetsomebody,didn’tyou?Weretheysupposedtocomewatchtoday?”
“Ididn’t.”Ishakemyhead.“Well,technically,Idid,butnotthewayyoumean.Trustme,I’mnotseeinganybody.Andnobodycameheretoseeme.”
“Well,obviously,orIwouldn’thaveepicallybeatenyou,”Lydiasays.“I’veseenyoushowoffbefore,andthatwasn’tit.”
“Iwasholdingback!Itwasjustatrainingrun.”
“Wait,youseriouslybeatMorgan?”Allie’sfull-ontransitionedtosprinternow,whichmeansshepracticesontheothersideofthetrack.GuessshemissedLydia’sjustbarelypassedmeaswecrossedthelineatthesametime,supposedly“epic”win.
“Ididanditwasawesome,”Lydiasays.
Ithrowupmyhands.“Iwasholdingback!”
“Uh-huh.Fine,keepyoursecretsfornow,butI’llfindout.Iknow,like,everyoutgirlintheschool.Oooh,butwhatifshe’snotout?”AlliewhisperstoLydiaconspiratorially,“Whatifshe’slikeyou?Mostpeopledon’tevenknowaboutyou.”
Lydiarollshereyes.“JustbecauseI’mnotoutout,doesn’tmeanI’mnotnotout.”
AllieandIjustblinkather.
“YouknowwhatImean.”Lydiagroans.
“I’mjustsaying,maybeMorgan’smysterygirlis‘notoutout’but‘notnotout’too.”
“There’snomysterygirl,”Iinsist,mycheeksgettinghot,becausenotonlyisRubyThompsonnotoutout,byallaccountsandindicationsshemaynotevenhaveanythingtocomeoutabout.Butthewayherhandslippedagainstmyskin…
“Uh-huh.”Allielaughs.
“Look,justdropit,okay?”
Theyseemtosensemyshiftinmood,andAllieimmediatelygoesbacktocomplainingabouthowitmustsomehowbeaviolationofherconstitutionalrightsforCoachtoforcesprinterstodoweeklydistanceruns.She’sfiveminutesintoramblingaboutthedifferenceinstridelengthswhenmyphonegoesoff.
It’satextfromAarontellingmethatheandafewotherkidsaremeetingupatthedinerlaterandofferingtopickmeupifIwanttocome.ItextbackthatItotallydo,butI’dratherjustridemybikethere.It’snotlikethistownisthatbig,andascrappyasitprobablyistosay,Iwantanoutifthingsgetawkward.Otherthanafewrandomtextsthisweek,I’vebarelytalkedtohim,andifthere’sonethingIlearnedaftertheSt.Mary’sdebacle,itistoalwayshaveanexitplan.BettertobringabikeandwishIhadn’tthantositthroughtwoawkwardcarrideswithastranger.
Lydialeansovermyshoulder,readingmytexts.“Oh,fun,Ilovethatdiner.AndAaronisreallynice.Ithinkyou’llgetalongforsure.”
Iglanceupather.“YouandAlliewanttocomewith?Imean,Iknowit’sjustkidsfromPrideClub,butIdon’tthinkthey’dcare.Andit’snotlikeyouwouldn’tfitrightin.”
Herfacefalls.“No,Ican’ttonight.Butthanks?”
“Okay,”Isay,morethanalittledisappointed.“IguessI’lljustseeyoutomorrow,then.”
“No,youwon’t,”Lydiateases.“Becauseyou’rebannedfromrunning,andIexpectyoutospendtheentireweekendonthecouchresting.”
“Don’tremindme.”
???
AaronandAnikabeatmetothediner,alongwithtwootherkidsIrecognizefromPrideClubbuthaven’treallygottenachancetotalkto.Anikaisinoneofmyclasses,butIdeletedallmysocialswhenImoved,andwe’veyettoexchangenumbers.TheothersI’vereallyonlyseeninthehalls.
TheyscootovertomakeroomformeasAarongesturestowarduswithhisfrenchfry,likeaconductorleadingaband.“Morgan,yourememberBrennanandDrew,right?”
“Yeah,hey,guys,”Isay,andI’mmetwithwarmsmilesandhalfwavesasIslideintomyseat.
“How’slife?”Aaronasks.
“Fine,Iguess,”Isayasthewaitressbringsoutplatesofchickenfingersandquesadillastogowithourapparentlybottomlessfries.Ispinaroundtoaskherforketchup,whichiswhenInoticeRubysittingwithafewofherfriendsatthecounter.WemakeeyecontactandIsmile,butshejustslowlyturnsherstoolaway.
“Weusuallysplitapps,”Drewsays,savingmefromspendinganymoretimestaringatthesideofRuby’shead.“Butifthatfreaksyouout,feelfreetoorderorskip.”
Igrabachickentenderandtearapieceoff,calculatingwhatmyshareofthebillwillbeandprayingIbroughtenoughcash.MomandDadhavebeensendingmoneytoDylanfortakingcareofme,andhe’sbeengivingsometome,butIfeelbadspendingitknowinghowmuchthey’repayingthelawyers.IfeellikeIshouldbepayingthem,honestly.
Aaronisstilllookingatme,though,andIrealizebelatedlyheprobablywantsmorethana“Fine,Iguess”answertohis“How’slife?”question.
“Imissmyoldfriendsandschoolandlife.”Isigh.“ButIreallylikethetrackteamhere,AllieandLydiaespecially.Itriedtogetthemtocomeheretonight,but…”Idon’tmissthelooksharedbetweenAaronandAnika.“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No,really.WhatdidImiss?”Everyoneatthetablesuddenlybecomesextremelyinterestedintheirfoodandphones.
“Nothingimportant,”Anikasays.
Ishiftinmyseat,clearlyuncomfortable.
AnikalooksatBrennan,whojustshrugs.“It’sjustyouwererightatthemeeting.Schoolathletesdon’treallyhangoutwithus.SoIwouldn’ttakeitpersonallythattheydon’tcome.You’remoretheexceptionthantherule.”
Irollmyeyes.“They’renotlikethat.AllieandLydiaare,like,thefurthestthingfrombeingstuck-upI’veeverseen,andIdealtwiththatalotatmyoldschool.”
“Wait,whosaidanythingaboutbeingstuck-up?”Aaronasks,scrunchinghisfaceup.
MyearsgethotbecauseIjustassumed…“Ithoughtyoumeanttheywouldn’tcomebecauseofsomesnottysportspopularitything?”
Brennanputshishandonmyarm.“Idon’tknowwhatthesocialhierarchywaslikeatyouroldschool,buttheteamsaren’tnecessarilyatthetopofthefoodchainhere.”
“Oh,okay.Sorry,”Imumbleintomyglassofwater.
“Youarehalf-right,though,”Drewsays.
“Idon’t—”
“They’renotlikethat.Butthey’realsonotlikeyou,”hecontinues.“Allie’ssweet,butthisissonotherscene.AndLydia,well,she’sthequeenofIcanneitherconfirmnordeny—sodon’texpecthertobehittingupPrideClubmeetingsandhangingoutafterschoolwearingapinthatsaysANGRYLESBIAN.”
Ireachforthelapelofmydenimjacket,touchingmypinwithalaugh.“Yeah,IguessI’mnotsupersubtle.”Notanymore,atleast.Infact,thispingraduatedfromdeskdrawertofavoritejacketrightaftermyparentsleftlastweekend
“Youcameherealreadyouttoo,”Drewsays.“Ofcoursethey’regoingtogiveyoumorelatitudeorwhatever.Butjustbecausemostofthestudentpopulationiscoolwithanewstudentbeingoutdoesn’tmeanthey’regoingtobecoolwithitwhenit’ssomeonethey’vebeensharingcrayonswithsincekindergarten.Trustme,Iknow.”
“IhadpeoplechangetheirlockersingymafterIcameoutbecausetheythoughttheywere,like,god’sgifttoqueergirlsorsomethingandIwouldn’tbeabletoresiststaringatthem.”Anikahuffs.“Andthat’sjustlosersfromgymclass.It’sprobablytwentytimesworsewhenit’sateammate.”
“Butyourschool—ourschool,”Icorrectmyself,“hasanactivePrideClub!It’sevenopenlyadvertised!There’ssomuchmoresupportherethanatSt.Mary’s.Ithoughtitwasdifferenthere.”
Drewnods,swirlinghisquesadillathroughadollopofsourcream.“Well,itis,probably,foryouatleast.Buttherealityisthatthisplaceiskindofadeadzonewhenitcomestoliberalideals.Likethetownputsonagoodshow,butit’sstillprettyconservativeunderneaththerainbowflagstickerstheyslappedonsomeofthebusinesses.Alotoftheadultsherearestillstuckinthestoneage,andthatkindoftricklesdowntotheirkids.Ifyourparentsareshitheads,you’regoingtofeelalotfreertobeashitheadyourself.Andifyourparentsareshitheadsandyouhappentobegay,Ipromiseyou’regoingtobeahellofalotlessloudaboutit.”
“Well,that’sgarbage,”Isay,maybealittletooloudasIshredmychickenfingertobits.Ididnotcomeoutatmyoldschooljusttobeshovedbackintheclosetatthisone.“Isitreallysoradicaltothinkpeopleshouldbeabletodatewhotheywantwithouthavingtohideortransferorsuesomebody?”
“Hey,hey,you’repreachingtothechoirhere,”Anikasays.
IsneakapeekbehindmejusttoseeifmaybeRubyheardmeandwasgoingto,Idon’tknow,jumpoutofherchairagreeing.IlookawayquicklywhenI’mmetwithaglare.
“Youshouldcomedowntothecenter,”Aaronsays.
“Thecenter?”
“Yeah,there’sanLGBTQ+resourcecenteroutsideoftown,nearthecollege.Oneofthethingswedothereispeercounseling,andthereareacoupleathleteswhowouldprobablyreallybenefitfromyourstory.YoushouldtalktoMs.Ming—she’stheonethatcoordinatesvolunteers.ItcountsforHonorSocietyhourstoo,ifyouneedthem.”
“See,thetownisn’tallgarbage,”Anikapipesup,slurpingthelastofhersodathroughastraw.“It’sjustmostlygarbage.”
“Thecentersoundscool,”Isay.“I’dlovetofeellikeI’mdoingsomethingtohelp.Rightnow,it’slikemyparentsandtheirlawyersaredoingeverythingandI’mjustalongfortheride.”
“Awesome,”Aaronsays.“Ithinkyou’dbeasuper-goodfit.I’mgoingtobethereSundayifyouwanttocome.”
“Yeah,soundsgreat.”Ismileandgrabanotherfry,lettingtheconversationdriftontootherthings.I’mjustscrapingthelastbitofketchupupwhenRubywalksby,headingtowardthebathroom.
Igetuptofollowherwithoutthinking.Imean,Ishouldwashmyhandsaftertouchingallthatgreasyfood,right?Right.
“Areyoustalkingmenow?”Rubyasks,narrowinghereyesinthemirrorwhenIstepinsidetheladies’room.She’sfixinghermakeup,slidinganinkyblacklineacrosshereyelidwithnear-surgicalprecision.
“No.”Kindof.
“Right.”Shedoesn’tlookconvinced.
Irushintooneofthestallsandboltthedoorbehindme.Ireallydidn’tthinkpastcominginhere.IguessIjustwantedtoseeifshewouldlookatmethewayshedidatmyhousetheotherday—asifIwassomeoneshekindoflikedinsteadofsomeoneshecouldn’tstand.
Exceptshedidn’tlookatmelikethatatall,andnowwe’resurroundedbyautomaticflushingtoiletsandthescentofwetpapertowelsandbadairfreshener.ThisisnothowIimagineditgoing.MaybethefactthatIimagineditgoinganywhereatallwasamajorerroronmypart.
“YouknowIcanseeyourshoesbythedoor,right?”sheasks.“Iknowyou’rejuststandingthere.Ifyoucameinheretosaysomething,justsayit.Otherwisequitbeingcreepy.”
“Oh,”Isay,becausethat’snotembarrassingatall.Whyisthissohard?
MaybebecausewhenIfinallyputmyheartonthelineforSoniaDelecourte—afterourthirddate,mindyou—shetoldmekissingmewasjustanexperiment,justtoseeifshelikedit,whichshedidn’t.
AndthenthenextdaysheranandtoldtheheadmasterthatIcameontoher.
AndthenIwascalledupforaconductmeeting.
It’sbeenalong,painfulseriesof“andthens”eversince,whichsomehowledmetothismoment,standinginatoiletstall,possiblymakingthesamemistakealloveragain.
“Look,ifyou’regearinguptosuemeorwhateverforhittingyou,justtellme.Idon’thavetimetostressoverthisanymore.”Ihearherzipupherpurse.“IhavetheMissTulipeventtomorrow,andmissingthatlastpageantseriouslyscrewedstuffup.Ihavetofocusonthat,andnotWhyisMatthewslurkinginabathroomstall?”
Wait,doessheseriouslystillthinkImightsueher?Isthatwhyshe’savoidingme?Notbecauseshe’sweirdedoutbutbecauseshe’sworried?HopesurgesupintomythroatasIslamthelockbackandpracticallyfalloutofthestall.
“I’mnotgoingtosueyou.Ijustwantto—”
ButI’vemissedmychance.Thedoorclicksshutbehindherasthesmileslipsoffmyface.
ThenIseeit:hereyelinerpen,forgottenbesidethesink.Andablooming,wildsenseofhopesurges,becausetomorrow’sanewday,adayIhaveoff…adaythatIknowrightwhereshe’llbe.
AndIhavesomeeyelinertoreturn.11
RUBY
ThelastthingIexpecttoseeasIstepforwardtobecrownedsecondrunner-upintheMissTulipeventisMorganfriggin’Matthewssittinginthethirdrowofthisrapidlyoverheatingpop-uptentthingthetowndugupfromsomewhere.Shegivesmealittlesmileandwave,andInearlystumbleasIcollectmyrosesandsash,becausewhatthehell,Morgan?
Itwasweirdenoughthatshefollowedmeintothebathroomlastnight,butthisisnextlevel.Whatisshedoing?Isthissomekindofrevengeforlastweekend?Isshegonnaservemepapersinfrontofthiswholeaudience?Imean,Igoogledher.Iknowherparentsarewillingtosueanythingthatmoves.
Shit,Ithoughtitwasbadenoughshe’sbeenhangingoutwithmyneighborAaron,whichmeansI’minevitablygoingtorunintohergoingnextdoorsomeday.IneverthoughtI’dhavetoworryaboutherpoppingupheretoo.
Myfakesmilefaltersforhalfasecond,andIfighttheurgetolicktheVaselineoffmyteeth.IflickmyeyestoMominstead,tryingtogroundmyselfinherpresence.She’sstandingupnow,herfingersstuckintothecornersofhermouth,pullingherlipsuplikeanextra-derangedversionoftheJoker.Ismilebigger,lettingmyperfectlybleachedteethhavetheirmomentinthespotlight,myredlipstickpulledtightasIclutchmyroses.
Thehostkeepsgoing,deemingLilyCarterfirstrunner-upandcrowningMelanieChothenewMissTulip,andIstayfrozen,staringblanklyatthebackofthetent,makingmymotherproud.BesidemeLilytakesmyhandandsqueezes.Pageantspeakforhelpmenotloseit
Iletmyself,foronesecond,rememberwhenitwasMorgan’shandinmine,andthenIstuffitbackdown.She’snothereforanygoodreason.Therewon’tbeanymorehand-holding.Therecan’tbe.
“Dammit,”Lilysays,thesecondweleavethestage.“IthoughtIhadthisone.”
LilyandIhavebeendoingpageantstogethersincewewerebabies.Inanotherlife,onewheremymomwasn’tinherentlysuspiciousofeverythingandeveryone,we’dprobablybebestfriends.
Asitstandsnow,we’remorelikeverypolitecoworkers.
“Sorry,Lil,”Isayasweheadtothedressingarea.“Ithoughtyouhadittoo.”
Sheshrugsanddisappearsintoabluroftaffetaandcryinggirls,andIheadstraightforthecornerwhereIstashedmystuffearlier.IfIcangetoutofthechangingroomandintomycarassoonaspossible,I’llminimizetheriskofbothmymothercomingbackstageandmeltingdown(afrequentandembarrassingoccurrence)andhavingtofindoutwhateverhorriblereasonMorganhasforbeinghere.(Whichhastobebad.Because,whyelse?)
Igetchangedasquicklyaspossibleandgrabmykit,pushingpastadozenorsogirls.IgiveMelanieaquickcongratulatoryhug,wipingherobligatoryhappytearsoffmycheek,andyankopenthecurtainseparatingusfromtherestofthetent.ThenIliftanemergencyflapandduckouttheback.
“Hey,”MorgansaysthesecondI’moutside.Andshit,we’realonehere.Behindthetent.Wherenoonegoes.Howdidshe…?
“Justgetitoverwith,”Isay,holdingoutmyhand.I’veneveractuallybeenservedwithpapersbefore,butIimaginealonebehindatentworksjustaswellasstandinginmydriveway.
Morganscrunchesupherface.“Okay.”
Sheslapssomethingintomyhand,butit’sdefinitelynotpaper.It’smyluckyeyeliner,theonlyrealsplurgethat’sjustmine.Theydon’tevensellitatWalmart;IhavetoorderitstraightfromSephora.Iwasfreakingoutallmorninglookingforit.
“Where’dyoufindthis?”
“Youleftitatthedineryesterday.”
“Andyoucameallthewayherejusttogiveitback?”Itiltmyhead.“Why?”
Morganlooksattheground,toeingapatchofdeadgrass.“Iwantedtothankyoufortheotherday.FortakingcareofmewhenIwashurt.Iknowyoumissedapageant,andtheyseemreallyimportanttoyou.Iwashopingthiswouldmakeuseven?”
Andthatissomisguidedlysweetthatmystomachdoesalittleflip.
“Thanks,”Isay,turningtogo.“Formyeyelinerandfornotsuingme.”
“Stillwiththesuing?WhywouldI?”
Ilookbackather,eyebrowsup.“Ihityouwithmycar.”
“Ifell,remember?”shesayswithalittlesmile.“Youjusthappenedtobethere.”
Ishakemyhead.“What’syourdeal,Matthews?”
“Nodeal.”
“Didyoureallydriveallthewayoutherejusttogivemethis?”Iask,holdinguptheeyelinerpen.
Sheshrugs.“MaybeIalsowantedtoseewhothenewFlowerPrincesswasgoingtobe.SeemslikecrucialinformationtohavenowthatIlivehere.”
Ismile;Ican’thelpit.“MissTulip,”Icorrecther.“Andit’sMelanieCho.”
Hereyescrinklealittleassheleansforward,closeenoughthatIcanfeeltheheatofherskinagainstmycheek.Herbreathagainstmyear.MyheartthuddingsohardIswearthewholeworldcanhearit.
“Youshouldhavewon,”shesays.
Iswallowhard.“I—”
“Ruby,Ihavebeenstandingouttherewaitingforyou.Whatareyoudoing?”Ijerkbacktofindmymotherwalkingupbesideus,herfacepinched.
Inearlydropmydress.“Nothing!”
“Who’syourfriend?”
“Justsomeonefromschool.”Ishiftslightlybetweenthem.
“I’mMorgan,”shesays,holdingoutherhandaroundmeandclearlymissingthepoint.
Mymomshakesit,askepticallookonherface.“Ruby’sneverinvitedanyschoolfriendstoherpageantsbefore.”
“Oh,well,Iwasn’tinvited,perse.I—”
“We’rejustaboutdone,”Isay,cuttingMorganoff.“I’llmeetyoubythecar,Mom?”
Mymotherstaresatmeforasecondbeforepullingthedressoutofmyhandsandturningtowardtheparkinglot.“Don’tbelong.”
“Yourmomseemsnice,”Morgansaysassoonasshe’soutofearshot.
And,shit,thatfakepoliteness—thatattempttopretendmymotherwasanythingbutrude—ismortifying.Idropmychin.“Whyareyoureallyhere,Matthews?”
“Ijustwantedtoreturnyour—”
“Well,youdid.SoIguessthat’sit,then?”Itrytomakemyvoicesoundhard.
Thesurprise—andhurt—onMorgan’sfacemakesmyheadbuzz.Ihatethis.Somuch.
ButnotasmuchasIhatethetalkIknowI’llbegettingfrommymomonthewayhome.
“Yeah,Iguessitis.”Shelookspissed.And,ohgod,Ideservethat.
???
“Whowasthatyouwereyoutalkingto?”mymomaskswhenwe’rehalfwayhome.“Youtwoseemedfriendly.”Idon’tmisstheaccusationinhervoice.
“Justsomeonefromschool,likeIsaid,”Imumble,becauseifthere’sonethingIdefinitelydon’twanttotalkaboutwithher,it’sMorganMatthews.
“Whatwasshedoingthere?”
Isigh.“ShewasjustreturningsomethingIforgotatthedinerlastnight.Myeyeliner.”
“Youtwowerestandingawfullyclose.”
“Icouldn’thearwhatshewassaying.Itwasreallynoisybackthere.”
Momhumsalittletoherselfandlooksoutthewindow.“Ijustdon’twantanyonetogetideasaboutyou,Ruby.Iknowhowyouget.”
HowIget.
Isqueezemyhandsalittletighteronthesteeringwheel,rememberingwhenIwasthirteenandmymotherdecidedIwasgettingalittletooclosetoKatieSeawell,afrequentflieronthepageantscenejustlikeme.Katiewasdifferentfromtheothergirls,atleasttome.Hersmileslookedreal,andshelaughedloudandoften.Icouldn’tdecideifIwantedtobeherbestfriendorifIjustwantedtobeher.I’dfindexcusestomakesurewealwaysgotreadytogether.We’dfixeachother’smakeupandmakefunofthejudges,anditwas…nice.
Afteraparticularlytoughloss,mymomcamebackstageandcaughtherwipingmytearsandtellingmeoverandoveragainthatIwasbeautifulandthatitwouldallbeokay.Andmaybeitwouldhavebeenifmymomhadgottenenoughsleep,orifBillyhadn’tjustleft,orifIhadn’tletmylatestcelebrity“girlcrush”slipoverbreakfast.Butshedidn’t,andhedid,andIhadn’tyetlearnedtheimportanceofkeepingmymouthallthewayshut.
That’swhenitwasdecidedthatIwasnolongerallowedtogetreadywiththeothergirls.OrevertalktoKatieagain.AfterthatIjustkindofshutmyselfoff,andalltheotherpageantgirlslearnedtostayaway.
Momtapshernailagainstthearmrestandthenfixeshergazeonme.“Enoughaboutthat,though.Would’velovedtoseeyougetawintoday.”
“Sorry.”Ikeepmyeyessteadyontheroad,clenchingmyjaweversoslightly.
“Youhesitatedduringyourinterview.”
“Ididn’thesitate;Iwasbeingthoughtful.”
“Itlookedmorelikeyoudidn’tknowwhattosay.”
Ibitemytongueuntilithurtsandthenforceoutasmile.“Ididknow,though.Ipaused,Mom.Ididn’thesitate.”
“YouneedmoresessionswithCharleneifwe’regoingtotakethistothenextlevel,”shesays.“Andyouweresloppyduringtalenttoo.Maybewecangetsomeprivatetaplessons,becausethosegroupclassesdon’tseemtobeworking.”
Ishakemyhead,swallowingdownthetruththatit’snotthetaplessons,it’sme.Icanbarelystandtopracticeanymore.Everyclapofmyshoeagainstthefloormakesmefeellikeoneofthosemarionettepuppets,withmymotherholdingallthestrings.
“Ineverdidlikegrouplessons,”Momcontinues.“Ifyouwanttoexcel—”
“Wecan’taffordprivatelessonsrightnow,andbesides,theytoldmelasttimethattheywon’ttakeanymorepostdatedchecks.”Isigh.“Maybethereisn’tanextlevelforme.”
“I’mnotthrowingawayyourfuturejustbecausewe’rebroke.I’llpickupextrashiftsifIhaveto.WebothknowI’msittingnexttothefutureMissAmericarightnow.”
Irubmyhandovermyforeheadandletitdrop.Becauseeverytimeshesays“throwingawayyourfuture,”thelikeIhadtowhenIhadyouisimplied.NothinglikespendinganotherSaturdayafternoonfeelingguiltyforbeingborn.
“Hey,”shesays,messingwiththestrapofherpurse,“Ijustwantmoreforyou.”
“There’snowayI’llmakeitto—”
“YoudeservetohavewhatIdidn’t.”
Andwhatshedidn’thavewasalucrativecareerasabeautyqueen,apparently.Momwaswinningeverypageantsheenteredtheyearshegotpregnantwithme,andshehadhersightssetonMissTeenUSA.Shewassomehowevenmorebeautifulthen,beforehermomkickedheroutandcutheroff,beforemydadlefthersixmonthspregnantandalone,beforetheweightoftheworldfoughtwithFatherTimetopresscreasesintoherskin.
MaybeIdoowehermyfutureforstealinghers,nomatterhowmuchIwishIcouldgetlostinsideofanoldmusclecarandneverlookback
“WhatifI’mnotsupposedtobeMissAmerica?”Iask,likeaprisonerbeggingforakey.“Ihaven’twonanythinginages.Noteventhemallpageants,whichdon’tcount.Idon’teventhinkI’dqualifyforastatecompetition.”
“Oh,Ruby,”shesays,pattingmyleg.“Don’teverdoubtyourself,baby.”
“I…”Itrailoff,lettingthemisunderstandingride.There’sneveranyusetalkingtoheraboutthis.Buthowdoesshenotseeit?How?
“Iknowwedon’thaveasmuchassomeoftheothergirls,butyou’vegotamomthatlovesyouandwilldoanythingtogetyouwhereyouneedtobe,”shesays,tuckingsomeofmyhairbehindmyear.“Andthat’shalfthebattle.”
Inodandturnuptheradio,hopingalittlemusicwilldrownoutallthechaosinmyhead.I’llbeworkingoffthisdebtaslongasIlive.
“Speakingof,I’vegotgoodnews!”shesays,twistinginherseatsofastIalmostslamonmybrakes.
“Whatgoodnews?”
“Iwasabletoregisteryouforthecountypageantafterall.”
“Youwhat?”Thedeadlinewasyesterday,andIknowwecan’taffordit.It’soneofthemoreexpensiveones.
“Therewasmoneyleftoverfromlastweek.”
“Thatwasfortheelectricbill.”Igroan.“How’dyougetthemtoturnusbackon,then?”
“Chuckputitinhisname,saidhe’ssublettingtheplace.Iputalittletowardourclosedaccountandtheresttowardtheregistrationfee.”
“Thatmoneycouldhavebroughtuscurrent!”
“That’snotforyoutoworryabout,”shesays,likeit’sthatsimple.“Youwantsomethingthatwillqualifyyouforstate.Well,hereitis.”
“That’snotwhatImeant,”Isaythroughgrittedteeth.
“Thiscouldopenupalotofdoorsforus,Ruby.Alot.You’realreadytherightageforMissAmerica,baby.Nowwejustgottagetyouthosetitles,andthisisagreatfirststep.”
???
“Thisonedoesn’tactuallyseemsobad,”Everlysays,slidingthelaptopacrossherbed.She’sgotthecountypageantwebsitepulledup.
“Itdoesn’tmatter,Ev.”
“Butthisonehasaprizethatyourmomcan’truinforyou.”Shameheatsmybelly.NomatterhowmuchItrytokeepheroutofit,Everlyalwaysseesthroughthebullshitstraighttohowbadthingsare.
“Doubtful,”Isay.
“Well,ifshedid,thatwouldbereallyimpressive,becauseit’sascholarshiptoHudsonCommunityCollegeforthetopsixfinishers,anditincludesastipendforthedorms.Itcouldgetyououtofyourmom’shouseforgood.”Shetapsthescreen.“Thiscouldbeyourwayout.”
“Ican’tleavemymom.”
“She’dbefine,Ruby.”
“Okay,inthatcase,letmejustgetrightoncrushingherdreamsandabandoningherlikeeveryoneelsehasbecauseEverlyJonessaidshe’dbefine.”I’mbeingdramatic,butIcan’thelpit.
“Whataboutyourdreams?”
“Idon’thaveanyofthose.”Ismirk,clickingherlaptopshut.
Sherollshereyesandflopsdownbesideme,lookingatmeoutofthecornerofhereye.“You’resuchaliar.”
“Comeon,I’maboutaslikelytogotocollegeasIamtowinMissAmerica.YouandIarenotthesame.”
“Ruby,Iloveyou,butcutitout.Itakepicturesofpeoplewhenthey’renotlooking.Yourestorecarsandkeepthemrunning.Ifoneofusismoreequippedtohaveacareer,it’snotme.”
“Youreallythinkso?”IaskbecauseIneverreallythoughtofitthatway.
ShecrossesherarmsandstaresatmeuntilIreluctantlyagreethatshemaybehasapoint,andthenIreopenherlaptoptodistractherwithNetflixmovies.
Butlater,afterMarcuscomesoverwithapizzaandeveryonebutmeisasleep,Iclickbackovertoreadaboutthescholarship.BecausemyguidancecounselordidmentiononcethatHudsonhadakillerautomotivetechprogram.AndifIdidhaveadream,itwouldprobablybethat.
IalwaysfiguredIwouldendupworkingatagasstationorsomething,scrappingpartsforBillyinbetweenpageantswithMom.Itdidn’tseemlike“more”wasreallyanoption.ButEverlyisright;theprizecoverstuitionplusroomandboardinthenewstudenthousingbuildingtheyputuplastyear.Finishingeventopsixcouldbetoughinacounty-widepageant,butitmightbedoableifIreallytry.Iclickthroughtothewebsite,tryingtofindtheloopholeorfineprint,butitalllookslegit.
ItevensaysIcanapplyforgrantstocovermytextbooksandmeals,butIdon’tneedallthat.Booksmaybe,butI’vebeenlivingonramenandvitaminsforaslongasIcanrememberanyway.I’msureIcouldgetenoughsideworkatBilly’stoatleastcoverthat.AndI’dbecloseenoughtokeepaneyeonmymom.Maybewecouldcompromiseeven,likeIstilldosomelocalpageantsorwhatever.Maybethiscouldbethefirststep,justnotinthewayshemeant.
Everlysnufflesandrollsover,andIpowerdownherlaptop,poweringdownmydreamsrightalongwithit.Itwasstupidtoeventhinkabout.I’vegotresponsibilities.I’vegotaduty.I’vegot…toomuchenergyrightnowandnoplacetoputit.
Ipulloutmyphoneandtypeoutatext.Tylerrepliesrightaway.12
MORGAN
Aaron’sstandingnearawhitewomanwholookstobeaboutthirty,bywhatappearstobeahastilyarrangedbookshelf,whenIwalkintothecenter.
Dylanenthusiasticallydroppedmeoffonhiswaytowork,callingme“quitethejoiner”andtellingmehewas“proudofme”andto“getinthereandchangelives”untilitgotembarrassing.Iessentiallyhadtoshoohimoutoftheparkinglotjustnow.IfI’mbeinghonest,though,Imaybedidn’ttotallymindit.IthinkIneededsomepositivereinforcementafterthewayRubyplayedPing-Pongwithmyemotionsyesterday.
“Morgan!”Aaron’sfacelightsup.Hesetsdownapileofbooksandcomesovertogivemeawelcominghug.“Youmadeit!”
“Wouldn’thavemissedit,”Isay.“Thanksforinvitingme.”
“Forsure!Um,thisisIzzie.”Hepointstothewoman,wholooksslightlyexasperatedwhenafewbooksfalloverbesideher.“And,Izzie,thisisMorgan.”
“Hi,Morgan.Sorry,forthemess.Wegotapileofnewdonationsthismonth,andI’mtryingtogeteverythingorganized.”Sheblowssomeofherdarkbrownhairoutofhereyes.“It’ssonicetofinallymeetyou.Aaronreallytalkedyouup.”
“I’dlovetohelpoutherehoweverIcan.”Ieyeonebookinparticularthathasaboyandadogonthefrontcoveredinwhatappeartobe…Post-its?“Allthesebooksweredonated?That’sawesome.”
“Yes,wehavesomeverygenerouspatrons.EachbookfeaturesamaincharacterthatfallsundertheLGBTQ+umbrella.You’realwayswelcometoborrowthebooksyourself,ifsomethingcatchesyoureye.”
“Cool,”Isay,pickingitup.“Idefinitelywill.”
“Perfect.Iknowtheendoftheyearcanbestressfulonstudents;it’salwaysgoodtosneakinsomeself-care,”shesays.“Thelibraryisavailableanytimewe’reopen,andit’sanhonorsystem,sononeedtosignthemoutoranything.Wetrustyou.”Sheleanscloser.“Andhonestly,ifsomeofthemdon’tmakeitback,wedon’tmind—aslongastheyfindagoodhome.”
Igrinbecausethat’sridiculouslycool.I’mthetypeofpersonthatwould200percentreturneverybookIborrowed—Idon’tevencrackspinesordog-earpages—butI’mkindofobsessedwiththeideathatifakidreallyfellinlovewithone,itwouldbeokayiftheykeptitforever.
“So,whatexactlydoyouguysdohere?”Iask.
“Whatdon’twedo?”Aaronsays.
“He’sright;wehandlealittlebitofeverything.”Izzieshrugs.“Counseling,support,schoolvisits.WehelpwiththeestablishmentofPrideClubsandGayStraightAlliancesinplacesthatdon’thavethem—AaronandIactuallysetuptheoneatyourschoolwithMs.Ming.Wehelpputteensintouchwiththeresourcestheyneedifthey’reinanunsafelivingsituation.ButwealsohandlePridePromsandotherfunevents—”
“It’skindofyourone-stopshopwhenitcomestothegay.”Aaronthrowsupsomefingerguns,andItrynottolaugh.“Comeon,we’llshowyouaround.”
Ilookineachroomdutifullyastheypointoutthedirector’soffice,thelounge,thekitchenarea,themainrooms,thepeercounselingspace,andtheplaygroundinthebackyard,likethey’retryingtoconvincemehowgreatitisorsomething.ButIalreadyknewbeforeIgotherethatIwasdefinitelyin.
“SowhatexactlywouldIbedoingasapeercounselor?”
“Peercounselorsarestudentswhovolunteerhere,eitherforNationalHonorSocietyhours,orsimplybecausetheywantto,”Izziesays.“Wematchthemwithotherteensthatwefeelwouldbenefitfromtheirexperiences—andoftenitturnsintoamutuallybeneficialmatch.Ourcounselorstendtogetasmuchoutofitastheygive.
“Ifyou’reinterested,we’dhaveyoustudyouronlinehandbook,andwe’drunabackgroundcheck,ofcourse.We’llhaveyousitinonafewsessionswithAaronormyselfuntilyoufeelcomfortable.Aaronisourseniorpeercounselor,sohe’salwaysheretohelpansweryourquestionsorpartnerwithyouforadifficultsession.”
“Sowejust…talk?”
“Sortof,”Aaronsays.“Sometimespeoplecomeinandjustwantsomeonetolistentothem.Othertimes,theywantadvice.You’llgetthefeelforitasyougo.”
Izzietiltsherhead.“IactuallyalreadyhavesomeoneinmindI’dliketopairyouwith.Ithinkitwouldbeanexcellentmatchgivenbothofyourhistories.”
“Thefootballplayer?”Aaronasks.
Shenods.“Wehaveaboythatcomeshereeverysooften,anathletelikeyourself.”
“Hegivesusafakenameeverytimebutdoesn’tseemtorememberit,soit’sneverthesame,”Aaronsays.“Definitelydoesn’tgotoourschool,sowhoknowshowfarhetravels.Somepeoplecomealongwaytogethere—lessofariskofsomeoneyouknowseeingyouwalkin.”
“Igetit.Ihateit,butIgetit,”Isay.
“Ithinkyouwouldbeinauniquepositiontogivehimadvice.”
“Yeah,”Isay.“Ireallywanttofindawaytoworkwithstudentathletes.It’smessedup.Peopledon’tunderstandthechallengeswefaceiftheyhaven’tlivedthem.”
“Well,Ithinkyou’llfindworkingatthecenteragreatfirststepinyouradvocacy.You’llbeabletogetyourfeetwethelpingpeopleone-on-one.”
“Thatsoundsgreat.”
“Welcomeaboard,then,”shesays.“Aaroncangetyousetupwithanonlinelog-intoreviewallthematerial.Hehasanappointmentlaterthisafternoontoo,ifyouhavetimetostay.”
“Ido,”Isay,wantingtogetgoingonthisstuffassoonaspossible,tofeellikeI’mdoingsomethingthatmattersforonce,insteadofhidingbehindmyparentsandlawyers.
???
Lateron,aftersittinginonanappointmentwithAaronandthisgirlCaroline,fillingoutcopiousamountsofpaperwork,andtakingacoupleonlinequizzes,Iamofficiallyapeercounselor.Istillhavetositinonafewmoresessionswhilewewaitformybackgroundchecktoclear,andIzzieisgoingtobedroppinginonmeonceIstartcounselingonmyown,butitfeelslikeabigstep.
Attheendoftheday,whenmybrothergetshomewithcelebratorycake,hegivesmethebiggesthug.
“What’sthatfor?”Iaskwhenhefinallyletsmego.
“Nothing,”hesays.“I’mjustgladyou’remysister.”13
RUBY
CharlenesmileswhenIwalkintothestudiothatsheshareswithhertwinsister,June.She’stall,nearlyfiveeleven,withgleamingwhiteteethanddarkhairdyedtohidethegray.OverthirtyyearsremovedfromherMissUSAtitle,andabitolderandsofterthansheusedtobe,she’sstillaforcetobereckonedwithonthepageantcircuit.
“Hello,Ruby,”shesays.“You’realittleearly.”
“Iknow.”Iduckmyhead.“Iwashopingwecouldtalk.”
“Ofcourse.Whydon’twetalkinmyofficebeforeyourstudentsgethere?”Shesetsthepapersshe’sholdingdownatreceptiondeskandheadstowardtheback.
Charleneisn’tjustmypageantcoach;she’salsosortofmyboss.Sheandhersisterrunasmallbutrespectedbusiness—Charlenerunsthepageantcoachingside,andJuneoffersballetandmoderndance.Therewassomuchoverlapintheirclientsitjustmadesensetoopenupshoptogether.
IfollowCharleneintothesmallerofthetwooffices—shesaysit’shercurseforbeingthreeminutesyounger—andtakeaseatacrossfromher.
“WhatcanIdoforyoutoday,love?”
“Iwanttowinthecountypageant.”Thewordssliceoutofme,feelingmorelikeanadmissionofguiltthanadeclarationofintent.“Iwaswonderingifyou’dbewillingtodosomeextralessonswithmeifIpickupmoreclassestoworkitoff.IknowI’mbarelycoveringwhatwealreadyoweyou,butIneedthis.”
“MayIaskwhy?”
“Ineedittobeeligibleforstate,andIneedtowinstatetogettoMissAmerica.”IhatelyingtoCharlene,butIcan’triskhertellingmymotherthetruth—thatwhilesheseesthisasanimportantfirststep,Iseeitasanescapehatchonanotherwisesinkingship.
Charleneshiftsforwardinherseat,studyingmyface.Ifighttheurgetoshrinkdown,conjuringmybestpageantpostureinstead.“Youcan’tbullshitabullshitter,”shesays,steeplingherhands.
“I’mnot,”Iforceout.“Ineedyourhelp.”Atleastthatpart’strue.
“Webothknowthat’syourmom’sdream,notyours.”
“Please.”Icanfeelitslippingaway.Thedoorslamminginmyface.Noautomotiveprogram.Nowayout.It’llbethird-ratemallpageantsandcountyfairsfortherestofmylife.
Charlenesighs.“June’sassistantisoutonmaternityleave.Iwasgoingtobringonasub,butifyoucanbeasecondsetofeyesontheStruts&Stridesclasses,alongwithteachingyourusualmakeuplessons,wecancalliteven.Oneprivatelessonaweekplushomework,butyouhavetomeanit,Ruby.You’vebeenphoningitinforyears.Ifyourmotherhadn’tbeenoneofmybeststudents,Iwould’vedroppedyoualready.Iknowwhatyou’recapableof.Iknowwhat’sinyourDNA.Itcouldallbeyoursifyouwanteditbadenough.”
“Yeah.”Ilookdown,rubbingataspotofgreasestainingtheedgeofmythumb.Howcomeeverybodyseemstoknowwhat’sinmyDNAbutme?
“Nowgogetready.Thegirlsaregoingtobeheresoonforyourclass,andwe’vegotthesix-to-eight-year-oldscominginforStruts&Stridesafter.Youstayforboth,andwecanstartyourextralessonsnextweek.”
“Deal,”Isay,shakingherhand.IwasplanningtogotoBilly’safter,butI’llshoothimatextlettinghimknowIcan’t.Ashort-termlossforalong-termgain.14
MORGAN
I’mfloppedoverabrightredbarberchairinmybrother’sshop,watchinghimsweeptheblack-and-whitecheckerboardfloor.Hejustfinishedcuttingallmyhairoff—well,heleftalittleonthetop,enoughtosayit’sapixiecutorwhateverwhenMomcallslater.ThefactthathealsodyeditpinkissomethingImayneedto…easemyparentsinto.Godknowsitwouldneverhavebeenallowedatmyoldschool.EvenDylanwashesitantatfirst,butwhenIsaidI’djustdoitathomewithsomebleachandKool-Aid,hislittlehair-lovingheartgotonboardrealquick.
IcouldtellbyhissmilewhenhedustedoffallthestrayhairsandspunmearoundtofacethemirrorthathelovesitjustasmuchasIdo.
Butstill,eventhoughcuttingoffmyhairanddyeingitacolorIcouldonlydaydreamaboutbeforefeelsexciting,likeareal,actualchange,deepdownIknowit’snot.Oratleast,it’snotenoughofone.
Itoemychairaroundinlazycircles.Nexttome,Dylan’sbestfriend,Owen,isshavingahardpartintoatwelve-year-old’shairwhilethekid’smomandsisterwatchfromarowofsubwayseatsalongthewall.OwenandDylanmetinbarberschoolandbecame“acceleratedbestfriends”asDylansays.Theymaynothaveknowneachotherforever,butapparentlytheintensityofbarberschoolcreatesabond.Theywenttheirseparatewaysrightafter,butthesecondtheycouldaffordtoopenashoptogether,theydid.
Ispinthechairaroundafewmoretimeswithasigh.Dylancocksaneyebrowandshovesmyfootoutofthewayasheslidesthebroomundermychair.“Youknow,ifyou’resobored,youcansweepupyourownhair.”
“I’mnotthatbored.”
“Thenwhat?”Owenasks,pullingthesmockofftheboyandbrushingthehairfromhisneck.“Becauseyoursighingisscaringthecustomers.”
TheboylooksatOwenwhenhesaysthat,andthemomlaughsandhandshimsomecashbeforedisappearingoutthedoor.
“See,lookhowfasttheyranoutofhere,”Dylansays,restinghisarmandchinonhisbroom.“Okay,I’llbite.What’sup?”
“Don’tgetallfatherlyonme.”Isnort.
“Firstofall,whenhasDadeversaidWhat’sup?Secondofall,I’mnotgettingfatherly,I’mgettingbrotherly,whichbecamemyrightwhenyoufilledmyspareroomwithallyourstuff.”
“Oh,likeyoudon’tlovehavingmehere,”Itease.
“Ididn’tsaythat.Isaidhavingyouheregivesmetherighttopry.”
“It’strue,”Owenadds.“It’sinthebrotherlybylaws.”
“Hmm,”Isay,“Ihaven’tseenanybylaws.”
“Well,youwouldn’thave,becauseyou’reasister.”
Isuckinmylipsandletthemoutwithapop.“Youknow,sometimesIfeellikeIcouldsearchtheentireworldandstillneverfindtwobiggerdorksthantheonesstandingrightinfrontofme.”
“Morgan,”mybrothersays,“enoughdeflecting.What’sgotyousighingandthrowingyourselfovermychairslikeaDisneyprincess?”
Idon’twanttosayit,really.IkindofjustwanttoletthismomentoflevitysinkintomybonesuntilIdon’tcareanymore.Butit’sDylan,andItellhimeverything—regardlessofthe“brotherlybylaws.”
“Honestly?”
“Honestly,”hesays.
“Itturnsoutalotofthekidsheredon’tfeelanysaferaboutcomingoutthantheydidatSt.Mary’s.Especiallytheoneswhoplaysports.IguessonceIfinishmytraining,I’mgettingpartneredwithsomefootballplayerwhodrives,like,forevertogettothecenter.Andthenthere’sLydia,whowon’tevencometoaPrideClubmeetingeventhoughtherearestraightalliesthere.She’sstuckinthishalf-in/half-outgrayarea,anditsucks.”
Owentiltshishead.“Didshetellyouitsucks?”
“Well,no,”Isay,spinningtowardhim.“ButI’vebeentherebefore,andIknowitdoes.”
Dylannarrowshiseyes.“Ifshedoesn’tseembotheredbyit,thenIwouldworrylessaboutherandmoreaboutthekidswhowanttocomeoutbutfeelliketheycan’t.”
“AndI’llfindthemallhow?”
“Itsoundslikeyou’vealreadyfoundonethroughthecenter,andyou’vebarelyevenstarted.”
Isigh.It’safairpoint,but…“Itdoesn’tseemlikeenough,though.Imadethisbigstandatmyoldschool,andnowI’mhereanditfeelslikenothing’sreallydifferent.It’sthesamestuff,justadifferentsetting.”
“Well,it’schangingforSt.Mary’s,thankstoyourlawsuit.”
“Maybe.Andagain,that’soneschool.”
“Itcouldhelpalotofkidsinthefuture,maybesetaprecedentstatewide.”
“SomethingtellsmeeveniftheyputoutanofficialwetolerategaykidspolicyatSt.Mary’s,noone’sgoingtofeelsupercomfortablecomingoutatanultraconservativeprivateCatholicschool.Iwanttodomorethanjustchangethingsonpaper.”
“Iknow,”Dylansays.“Andthat’swhyIthinkhelpingoutatthecenterisgoingtobereallygoodforyou.”
“Yeah.Probably.”
“Wait,”Owensays.“Thatdoesn’tsoundconvincing.”
Dylanscrunchesuphisforehead.“Itreallydoesn’t.”
“IthinkwehavetodoubleDadheruntilshesmiles.”Owenstalkstowardme.
“Ohmygod,stop.”Ilaugh.
Dylanmovesbesidehim,andtheybothbringtheirhandstotheirchinsinmatchingfake-thoughtfulfaces.
Irollmyeyes.“I’mfine.Ipromise.”
“I’msorry,Morgie.That’sjustnotgoodenough.”
“Yeah,”Owensays.“We’rehereforyou.Yougotaproblem,yourbrotherdadswillsolveit.”
Iblinkatthem.“Nope,notdoingthis.”Buttheykeepstaringatmewithexpectantfacesliketwogoldenretrieverpuppieswhosomehowmanifestedthemselvesintopeoplerightbeforemyeyes.“YouhonestlythinkI’mgonnavomitmyfeelingsaboutschoolandthewaiverandRubyandstuffjustbecauseyoukeeplookingatmelikethat?”
“Ruby?”DylanlooksatOwen.“Wait,who’sRuby?”
“Yeah,we’vedefinitelyneverheardofRuby.”
Ugh.Ican’tbelieveIletthatslip.“She’snoone.Justagirlfromschool.”
Owengroans.“Howdoyouhaveagirlfriendalready?I’vebeenheretwoyearsanddon’thaveone.”
“That’sbecauseyou’reannoying,Owen,”Dylansays,clampinghishandonhisshoulder.Ilaugh;Ican’thelpit.“Doyouhaveagirlfriend,Morgan?”
“Yeah,no.Ihaveapersonwhocan’tdecideifshelikesmeorhatesme,butshealsocouldbestraightorsofarintheclosetshehasn’trealizedshe’snotyet.”
“Oooooh,someonehasacrush,”Owensings,clutchinghisheart.Iresisttheurgetosmackhim.Havingonenosybrotherwasbadenough.HowdidIendupwithtwo?
“Morgan,”Dylansays,hisvoicegettingserious.“Promisemeyouwon’tsettle,okay?Findsomeonewhorespectsyourfeelingsandyourtime.”
Theunlikethelastgirlyouwereintoisimplied,butIhearitloudandclear.
Iswallowhard.“Don’tyoubothhavehairtosweep?”
BecausenomatterhowbigofacrushI’mfighting,Iknowhe’sright.Iwon’tmakethatmistakeagain.Ever.Ideservetobewooed.IdeservetoknowthatthepersonI’mfallingforisfallingformerightback.Ideservegrandgesturesandromanceandallthatothergoodstuff.
IfRubyThompson—oranyoneelse,forthatmatter—isinterestedinanythingwithme,thenthey’regoingtohavetomakethefirstmove,andit’sgoingtohavetobebig.15
RUBY
Idon’tmeantooverhear.
Iwouldn’tevenbewalkingbyrightnow,undertheseominouscloudsthreateningtorainonmeanysecond,ifIdidn’thavedetentionforcominginlate.Atleastitwasforagoodreason—Mom’scarwouldn’tstartafterherovernightshiftandIhadtogogether.Icouldn’tjustleavehersittingthereallday.GodknowsChuckwouldneverspendthegas.
BythetimeIrememberedIneededanexcuse,Iwasalreadylateandhalfwaytoschool.Goingbackwouldhavemademeevenlater,andIwouldhavehadtowakeMomuptowriteit.Icouldn’tbearthat.Iknowshereallyneedsthesleep.
SoIwaslate.Again.Automaticdetention.Nothinglikesittinginalittleroomandwritinganessayabouttheimpactoftardinessonthestudentbodyasawholetogetthebloodpumping.
ThenIhadtomeetMrs.Morrisonrightaftertotalkaboutmygrades.I’mnotfailing,thankgod,butI’mnottoofaroff.It’sjustthatGovernmentputsmetosleep.SodoesEnglishand,okay,mostclasses,tobehonest,exceptfor,like,shop.I’mprettygoodatlunchandgymtoo,tobefair.Ijustneedtobemoving,doingthingswithmyhands.Ican’tconcentratewhenI’msittingstill.
Butthatdoesn’tmatteranymore.Ihavetotakethingsseriously.Ihavetonaileveryassignment.Ihavetograduateontime,notoptforsummerschoolinstead.BecauseI’mholdingontoEverly’squestionlikealiferaftnow:Whataboutyourdreams?AndifImanagetoplacehighenoughinthepageanttowinthatscholarship,Idon’twanttoloseoutbecauseofsomelittletechnicalitylikenotactuallygraduatinghighschool.
Inanotherlife,IwouldalreadybeatBilly’sshoptroubleshootingtheproblemwithMom’scar,orhangingoutwithEverlyandMarcus,ordoinganythingotherthanwalkinguponMorganMatthewsandacoupleofassholesfromthelacrosseteam,ChadandClaytonMiller.Iwouldn’thaveheardthemcallhernames,orseenherandthatnewhaircutthatmakeshercheekboneslooklikecutglassintheverybestway.
ButI’mnotthatlucky.SoIstopandwaittoseewhathappensnext,duckingnearthefieldentrancejustbarelyoutoftheirlineofsight.
Ihopeshewalksaway,becausethenIcantoo.Icanjustheadstraightformycarlikenothingeverhappened.Butthat’snotherstyle.That’snotMorganMatthewsatall.Ididn’tevenneedGoogletotellmethat.
“Whatdidyoujustsaytome?”sheasks,herhandsalreadyballedintofists.
“Isn’tthatwhatyouare?”Chadasks,puffingouthischest.
“Maybe,”Claytonsays.“Ormaybeshejustneedsalittledickinherlife.”
Irollmyeyes.Thetwinsbothsuck,butI’vealwayshatedClaytonalittleextra.AtleastnowIdon’thavetofeelbadaboutit.
Shetakesastepforward,andno,no,Morgan,go.Thesearenotpeopleyoutalkbackto.Thesearepeopleyoudon’tleaveyourfriendsalonewithatparties.
“Well,youdefinitelyareadick,”Morgansays,tryingtomovepastthem,“butI’mnotinterested.”
“Fuckyou.”Claytonshovesher.
“Don’ttouchme!”Sheshoveshimrightback.Hebarelymoves,asmallrunnernomatchfortheoversizedmidfielder.
“Clayton!”Ishout,jogginguptothembeforeitcangetanyworse.“Whatthehellareyoudoing?”
“Whatdoyoucare,Ruby?Shegotyouontherainbowridenowtoo?”
Igritmyteethand,forahalfsecond,panicthathe’sactuallyfiguredoutwhatI’mtryingsohardtoignore.ThethingI’veworkedreallyfuckinghardtohide.
ButthisisClayton.He’snotclever;he’sjustanasshole.
“Nice,”Isay.“No.Butifshereportsyouandyougetsuspendedforthis,thenIhavetolistentoTylerbitchingfortherestoftheseasonaboutlosingtwoofhisbestplayers.”IshoothimaglarethatIhopelooksconvincing.“NowgetoutofherebeforeIpopyouralternatorandgiveyousomethingtoreallycomplainabout.”
“Youdon’talwayshavetobesuchabitch,youknow?”HebumpsintomyshoulderashewalksbywithChadintow.Ifollowthemwithmyeyes,firsttomakesurethey’rereallyleaving,butmostlytogiveMorganachancetocomposeherself.WhenIfinallylookbackather,asmallsmileofreliefonmyface,I’mmetwithfivefeet,threeinchesofpurerage.
“Ididn’tneedyourhelp,”shepracticallygrowls.
“Clearly,”Isay,annoyanceroilingupinmyheadattherealizationthatshethinksIscrewedupagain.“Youweretwosecondsfromgettinginafistfightwithalacrossemidfielder.Youdefinitelyhadthingsundercontrol.Sure.”
“Idid.”Shebendsdowntofuriouslyretiehershoe.“I’vedealtwithwayworsethanhim.”
“Yeah,notwithoutlawyers,though.”
Shelooksupatme,eyesflashing.“What?”
And,damn,thatwaskindofalowblow.Ibackpedalalittle,rubbingmyneck.“IwasjusttryingtofindyourInstagram.It’snotmyfaultabunchofnewsreportspoppedupinstead.”
“Great,”shesays.“Doeseverybodyknow,then?”
“Imean,probably.IdoubtI’mtheonlypersonwhodecidedtogooglethenewgirl.”
Sheopenshermouthtosaysomething—whichistheexactmomentthedarkcloudsaboveusfinallyopen,raincascadingdowninsheets.Fuckingperfect.We’redrenchedinaheartbeat,dartingundertheoldsnackbarawningtoescapetheworstofthedownpour.
“Great.”Shegroans,wipingthewateroffherface.Ipullmyhoodiealittletighter,doingeverythingIcantoignorethewaytheraindipsandpoolsoverherskin.Toomuchskin.God,doesn’tthisschoolhaveadresscode?Howisthistinytrackuniformevenallowed?
Morganclearsherthroat,and,shit,whoknowshowlongI’vebeenstaringatherlegs,herneck,herarms,her…
“Youwantaridehome?”Iblurtout,eventhoughIknowit’sabadidea,acolossallybadidea,anevenepicallyworseideanowthatthecoldismakingher—
“No,thanks,”shesays,andjogsoutintotherain.Istandthereforasecond,stunnedbyherquickexit,beforeIsnaptomysenses.
Fine.Letherrunhome.SeeifIcare.BecauseIdon’t.Idon’t.
Iheadtomycar,slammingthedoorwhenIgetinandnotevencaringthatI’mgettingtheseatwet.Islidethekeyintotheignition,anditrumblestolifeasshecutsoutoftheentrancetotheschool.
It’sfine.MorganMatthewsisnotmyproblem.She’snothingtome.Noteventhatnewhaircutcanchangethat.She’sjustthenewestdistractioninalonglineofdistractionsthatdefinitelydon’tmatter.Idon’tevencare.
Ipulloutoftheparkinglot,tryingnottothinkabouthowharditistoseeorhowMorganhasahabitofrunningintotraffic.
“Dammit,”Isay,tappingthebrakes.
Ishouldkeepgoing.Ifshewantstorunallthewayhomeinthisstupidrainstorm,Ishouldleavehertoit.SowhyamIstoppingthecar,then?WhyamIpoppingthepassengerdoorrightassherunsby?
“Idon’tneedyourpity,”Morgancalls,pausingjustlongenoughtoshoutthroughmyopendoor.
“It’snotpity.”
“Thenwhatisit?”Hereyesmeetmine,anditfeelsforasecondlikeshecanseerightthroughme.
“It’s…”IhesitatebecauseIdon’tfuckingknow,andIcan’tthinkstraightwithherstaringatme,soakedandshivering.Howdoesshestilllookhot?Thisisn’tfair.
“It’s…”shesays,wavingherhandsaroundlikehurryup
“Mycivicduty?”
Onesideofhermouthquirksup.“Yourcivicduty,”shedeadpans.
“I—”
Butshe’salreadyslidingintotheseatbesideme,bucklingup.“Seemslegit.”
Iwaitforhertoshutherdoor,andthenIhitthegas,mycarbuckingforwardwhenIslamthepedaldowntooquickly.
“SowasstalkingmyInstagramyourcivicdutytoo?”sheasks.
Shit.
“Iwas…curious?”Iflickmyeyesovertogaugeherreaction,butshe’sjuststaringattheroad,indifferent.
“IdeleteditbeforeImovedhere.”
“Clearly,orelseIwouldn’thavehadtoclickthroughtothehorrorthatispagethreeofGoogleresults.”
Shelaughs,andit’ssmall,andIprobablyshouldn’tfeelgoodaboutit,butIdo.Igripthesteeringwheelalittletighter,tryingtofocusontheroad,onthesoundofmywindshieldwipers,onanythingelsethatisn’tthegirlsittingnexttomeandthewayallthetinyhairsonherarmarestanding—
“Whatwereyousocuriousabout?”sheasks,whichfeelstooloadedtoanswertruthfully.
“Juststuff,”Isayfinally.
Shehumsandlooksoutthewindow,andIfeellikeIfailedatest.
“Iwascuriouswhatyouwerelikeatyouroldschool,”Iblurtoutwhenthesilencestretchestoolong.
“Why?”
“Iwaswonderingifyou’vealwaysbeenthisloud.”
“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”
“YouknowwhatImean.”Isigh.“You’realways,like,runningaroundwithAaronortherestofthePrideClub…”ItrynottosoundjealouswhenIsayAaron’sname.Therewasatimehewasoneofmybestfriends—untilmymomgotinvolved.
“Whycan’tIhangoutwiththePrideClub?”
“Youcan,”Isay.“But,like,you’realwayswiththem,or,like,eventhatshirtyouhadonearlier—”
Sheglaresatme.“Whatwaswrongwithmyshirt?”
“ItsaidICAN’TEVENTHINKSTRAIGHTingiantrainbowsequinletters.”
“And?”
“Iwasjustwondering…doyoualwayshavetoadvertiseit?Becauseweallgetit.Youlikegirls.Haveyouevertriedbeingmorelike—”
“Likewhat?”shesnaps.
“Idon’tknow,likeLydia?”
“Youmeaninthecloset?”
“No,just…whydoesithavetobeathingthatyoushoveineveryone’sface?TheMillertwinsprobablywouldn’thaveevendonethatshittodayif…Imean,Idon’tgetwhy—”
“No,clearlyyoudon’t.Stopthecar.I’llrunfromhere.”ShepopsherdooropenbeforeIcanevenpullover.
“Jesus.Closethedoor.You’relettingintherain.”
“No!”
Ipinchthebridgeofmynose.“It’snotsafetoberunninginthis!”
“Whydoyouevencare?”Morganshouts.
“Justplease.I’lldropyouoff.Youdon’thavetotalktometherestoftheride.”
“Whatever,”shesays,pullingherdoorshutasalowrumbleofthunderandaflashoflightningripsthroughthesky.
“Thankyou.”Wedriveinsilenceforawhile,butIcanfeelherwatchingme.Tryingtofiguremeoutmaybe.
Finally,whenwegettoherapartment,shesighs.“What’syourdeal?Seriously.It’slikeyoutakeeverythingIdopersonallyorsomething.OnesecondIthinkwe’regettingalong,andthenextyou’retearingapartmyfriendsandchoiceofclothing.”
“Iwasn’t.I…”Istareahead,tryingtodecidehowmuchI’mwillingtoadmitorifIevenwanttoanswer.“Don’tyouthinkyourlifewouldbeeasierifyou…Can’tyoujustbequietaboutthingssometimes?Atleastuntilyougetoutofhere,andyou’reatyourfancycollege,whereguyslikeChadandClaytoncan’tgettoyou?”
“TherearealwaysgoingtobemoreguyslikeChadandClayton.”Shegetsoutofmycar,pullingherbackpackafterher.“I’mnotspendingmylifepretendingI’msomethingI’mnot,ormakingmyselfsmallerandquieter,justbecausesomeoneelsethinksIshould.”
Ishutmyeyes,swallowinghard,herwordsspiralingaroundmyheadinwaysthatsomehowinspireandconfusethehelloutofmeallatonce.Ilookather,wordsonmytonguethatIdon’tevenrecognize,rightassheshutsthedoor.
Morgandartsupthesteps,flashingmealittlewavethatIdon’treturn.Andit’sfine.It’sokay.Ishovethewordsdowndeep,wheretheycan’thurtanybody,leastofallme,andliftmychin.It’sbetterthisway.
Ican’tletonegirlandherstupidperfecthaircutandherstupidperfectfaceandherstupidperfectbrainderailtheoneshotI’vegotatmakingsomethingofmyself.Peoplemightbewillingtolooktheotherwayforanout-of-towntrackstar,butcrowningaqueerbeautyqueenwillneverbeinthecardsaroundhere.
Notifpeopleknowthey’redoingit,anyway.16
MORGAN
Icouldn’tsleeplastnight.
Mymomcalledafterdinnersayingtherewasyetanothercomplicationwiththe“St.Mary’sthing,”asshe’stakentocallingitlately,andthatmyteamneededanotheressayaboutwhathappenedandtheimpactithadonmy“emotionalwell-being.”
BetweenthatandmyearlierconversationwithRuby,IwassoriledupthatIspentthenexttwohourswritingcountlessdrafts,untilitturnedfromashort,professionalstatementintoarage-filledten-pagemissiveabouteverythingeffedupatSt.Mary’sandhowthecultureofconservatismandhomophobiainsuchaneliteacademicatmosphereimpactednotjustmebutotherkidsthatIwon’tnameoutoffearfortheirsafety.Kidsthatturnedtheirbacksonmesofastwhenthingswentdown.KidslikeMollyValentine,myfirstkissandlongestfriend,whoseparentsmadeherblockmynumberbeforetheinkwasevendryonmytransfer.
Turnsout,spiteisapowerfulmotivator.
ButwhenIfinallyclosedmylaptopandregainedsomesemblanceofcalmness,Istillcouldn’tstoprunningthroughmyconversationwithRuby.Ilayinbed,tossingandturning,tryingtoshoveallthepuzzlepiecesofourinteractionstogether—thoughatthispointI’mnotevensureifthey’refromthesameset.
Bymidnight,Iresolvedtoaskherflatout.Butbytwoa.m.,thedoubtslippedback.Whatifyoumakeafoolofyourselfagain?itwhispered.Orworse?
Andyetthismorning,I’mstillsearchingthehallwaysbetweenclasses,hopingforaglimpseofher—asifseeingheragainwillsomehowmakeitallmakesense.Ormaybethetruthis,Idon’tcareifitallmakessense.Ijustwanttoseeher.ItrytowillawaytheexcitementasIwalkintoGovernment,ouronlysharedclassandtheoneplaceshecan’tavoidme,becauseIknowDylanisright.Ideservemore.But…
Alliesitsdownbesideme,andI’monlyhalflisteningasshegoesoverthelogisticsofournextmeet,whichI’mstillnotallowedtocompetein.Therehasbeenabsolutelynomovementwithmywaiver—it’slikeSt.Mary’shitpauseonmyentirefuture—butIreallycan’tthinkaboutthatrightnow.
Itrytokeepupwiththeconversation,noddingandsaying“uh-huh”atappropriateintervals,whilekeepingmyeyesfixedonRuby’semptyspot,myheartthrummingdoublespeedwhileIwaitforhertoappear.
Sheeventuallybustlesinwithherheadphoneson,herbackpackbumpingagainstmyelbowasshepushespastwithoutsomuchasanapology.Iwanttoknowwhatshe’slisteningto.Iwanttoknowwhatshelikes.
Mymindwanders,imagininguslyingsidebyside,sharingherknockoffAirPods.Rubywithherhairsplayedoutbeneathher.Meonmyside,proppeduponmyelbowtoseeherbetter,waitingforjusttherightmomentinthesongtoleanforwardand—
What?Rubymouthsfromacrosstheway,herforeheadcrinkling.Crap,I’vebeenstaringthiswholetime.Ilookaway,squirminginmyseatandturningmyattentiontoAllie.
“So,um,willCoachputLydiainthesixteenhundredagainsinceI’mout?”
“Hello,Morgan,welcometotheconversation.”Sheraiseshereyebrows.“GladtoknowI’vebeentalkingtomyselfforthelastfiveminutes.”
“Sorry,Iwaszoningout.”
“Yeah,Icaughtthat,”shesayswithapointedglanceinRuby’sdirection.Myfacemustlooknothingshortofterrified,becauseshequicklyadds,“Orwhatever,”andpullsoutherbook.Lydiadropsintotheseatbesideusjustasthebellrings.
“Okay,class,let’sgetstarted,”Mrs.Morrisonsayswithahugesmile.“Youknowwhattodayis,right?”
Acouplestudents,includingRuby,groanintheirseats.IleantowardAllieandwhisper,“What’stoday?”
“Groupproject,”Alliewhispersback.“She’sbeenteasingitallyear.Luckyyou,youtransferredinjustintime.”
“Groupprojectforwhat?”Iask,tryingtofigureoutwhatwecouldpossiblybedoingforaneasyclassthatIwastoldonlyrequired,like,onemoreessay,max.
“That’sright!It’sthebesttimeoftheyear,teamworktime!”Mrs.Morrisoncontinues,passingbacksomehandouts.“Fornow,I’llletyouchooseyourowngroupsoftwoorthree,butifyoucan’tfigureitout,I’llassignyoutoone.Now,drumroll,please.”Shepauses,likewe’reactuallygoingtodoadrumroll,beforecontinuingon.
“Okay,then,sincewe’vebeenstudyingthedifferentwaystheAmericangovernmentworksallsemester,I’mgoingtoaskthatyouchooseamajoractoflegislationthatwassuccessfullypassedfromourhistoryandexploreitmoredeeply.You’llseealistofapprovedoptionsonthehandout,alongwithimportantdates.Now,remember,asyoudothis:I’mnotjustlookingforinformationontheactitself.Iwantyoutouseyourcriticalthinkingskills,whichmeansIwanttounderstandcontext.Iwanttoseethereasonsitcametobeandsociety’sreactionstoit.Iwanttoknoweverything.We’llbeintheresearchphaseforthenexttwoweeks,whichwillculminateinawrittenessaybyeachstudent—soifyou’rethegroupprojectslacker,Iamgoingtofindout—andalsoinasharedpresentationtotheclass.”
IglanceacrossthewayatRuby,whoislookingveryuncomfortableinherseat,andthenatAllie,who’salreadyeagerlycirclingactsandmakingnotesinthemargin.Ilookdownatthepageinfrontofme,seeingeverythingfromtheJudiciaryActof1789tothelegalizationofgaymarriage.
“Thepresentationshouldrunabouteighttotenminutesinlength,”Mrs.Morrisonsays.“UsevisualaidslikeaPowerPoint,orwriteasong,recitepoetry,reenactkeymoments!Thesky’sthelimit!”
Iscantheroom.Mostpeoplearealreadyfranticallygesturingtooneanothertosecuretheirgroupsforthisexerciseinridiculousness.Whowouldevervoluntarilyrecitepoetryinfrontofthewholeclass?
“Okay,I’llgiveyouamomenttosplitintoyourgroups,”Mrs.Morrisonsays.“Ialsohavesomebooksupheretohelpyouchoose,althoughItrustyouallhaveyourphonesinyourpocketsandthusaccesstoGoogle.Youhavetherestoftheperiodtosettleonpartnersandtopics,andthenIwantonememberfromeachgrouptocomeuptohaveitrecorded.Ifsomeoneelsehasalreadyselectedyourtopic,youwillbeaskedtochooseanother,sodecidefast.”
Alliegrabsmyarm,alongwithLydia’s.“Gotmygroup,”shesays,andLydianods.“Sowhatdowewanttodo?I’mthinkingtheNationalMinimumDrinkingAgeActortheAnimalWelfareAct,butI’mdefinitelyopentoanyoftheothers.Thosetwojustsoundedthemostfun.”
IflickmyeyesovertoRuby,stillsittingtherealone,asLydialooksoverthelist.“IliketheEndangeredSpeciesAct,”shesays.
“Ooh,”Alliesays,“that’sanothergoodone.Whatdoyouthink,Morgan?”
“Hmm?”Iask,stillwatchingRuby.Shedoesn’tgetup,though,doesn’teventrytojoinagroup,andthat’ssofrustrating.Justgetup,Ruby.Getup.Goafterwhatyouwant.Isthatreallysohard?
“Class,dowehaveanygroupoftwowillingtotakeonathirdoragroupofthreethatwillpossiblysplitoff?”Mrs.Morrisonasksafteraminuteortwo.Whennoonesaysanything,shesighs.“Pleasedon’tmakemeassigngroups.”
MaybeIshouldtakesomeofmyownadvice.
Ishootmyhandupintotheair.“I’llswitch,Mrs.Morrison.”IgrabmystuffwithaquickapologytothegirlsandthenmovenexttoRuby.Andyeah,maybeworkingonapresentationtogetherisn’texactlythesameasaskingherifshelikelikesme,butit’sastart.Oritwouldbe,ifRubydidn’tlooksopissedrightnow.
“Idon’tneedapitypartner,”shegrumbles.“Icandoitonmyown.”
“It’snotpity,”Isay,rememberingherwordsfromyesterday.“It’smycivicduty.”
Herlipscurveupforasecond,likeasmiletriedtoescapebeforeshethoughtbetterofit.“Sowhichonedoyouwant?”
“IwasthinkingabouttheMarriageEqualityAct.”
“Ofcourseyouwere.”Sherollshereyes.“Andno.”
“Letmeguess,youwantDon’tAsk,Don’tTell?”Imeanitasajoke,butherfacegoeshard.
“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”
“Iwas…Youknow,whatyousaidyesterdayinthecar.”
Shenarrowshereyes.
“Aboutmebeingloudandquietbeingeasier.Itwasajoke.Sorry.Ijustpickedasuper-gayone,andyesterdayyouweretellingmetoshutupaboutbeingsupergay,andsothejokewas—”
“Pleasestoptalking.”Shesighs.“We’lldotheEndangeredSpeciesAct.”Shesaysitsomatter-of-factlythatIalmostagreerightonthespot.“Almost”beingthekeyword.
“IthinkAllieandLydiawanttodothatone.Maybewecoulddo—”
“ThenIbettergetuptherefirst.”Rubystandsup,andIsweartogod,she’snotfull-onstompingtoMrs.Morrison’sdesk,butit’sclose.
Mrs.Morrisonglancesatmeandthenwritessomethingdownwithasmilebeforehandingherapacket.Rubycarriesitover,lookingsmug.
“What?”
“Wegotit,”shesays.“TheEndangeredSpeciesAct.Allours.”Andshe’sabsolutelypreeningovertheideaofgettingoneoveronAllieandLydia.Ishouldfeelguiltyaboutthat,probably.EspeciallywhenIseethemwalkuptoMrs.Morrison’sdeskafewminuteslaterandsheshakesherheadno.ButIkindofdon’t.IlikeseeingRubythisway.
“So,what’sallthis?”Iask,gesturingtothemammothpacketofpapersinfrontofus.
“Wehavetofillallthisoutfortheresearchportion.There’sabunchofdifferentquestionstoguideusorwhatever.”
“Gotit.”Iscanthroughthemquickly.Theyseemprettystraightforwardbutalsolikealotofwork.Itclearlysaysonthetopthatwhileclasstimewillbegiventocompletetheassignment,studentsareexpectedtomeetoutsideofschoolorduringactivityperiodinordertocompletewhateverwedon’tfinishinclass.“WanttomeetmeatthelibrarySaturday?There’sameetthatday,andIcan’tgo.Icouldusethedistraction.”
“I’m…busySaturday.”
Iwonderifit’sanotherpageantbutdon’task.Shewasn’texactlyreceptivewhenIshowedupatonethefirsttime.“Iguessthenanothertime?”
“Yeah,maybe.”
And,oh.Oh.NooooowIgetwhynobodyelsewantedtopartnerupwithher.Well,it’snotmyfirsttimedoingalltheworkinagroupproject,anditprobablywon’tbethelast.Mrs.Morrisonwillhavetofigurethatoutonherownduringtheessayportion,though,becauseI’mnotabouttoletRubysinkmygradeontheresearchend.
“Youknowwhat?I’llgetajumponthingsbymyself.It’sfine,”Isay.“Wecancomparethoughtsduringactivityperiodorsomething.Ineedtheinfoformyessayanyway.Itdoesn’tmatter.”
“Obviously,itmatters.”
“Look,Iknowhowitworks.Idon’tminddoingalltheresearchstuff,butI’mnotwritingyouressayforyou.Andyouhavetopullyourweightduringtheactualpresentation,soyoudon’tscrewovermygrade.Deal?”
“I’mgoingtohelpwiththeresearch.Ijust…”Shetrailsoff,shakingherhead.
“Isaidit’sfine.”
“Willyoustop?”Shehuffsoutabreath.“I’llbethere,okay?It’sjustgottabelater,likefour.Canyouatleastwaituntilfourtogeta‘jumponthings’?”
“Yeah,Icanwaituntilfour,”Isayslowly.BecauseIthoughtIatleasthadthispartofherfiguredout.Butnope,RubyThompsonremainsanenigma.
“Okay,awesome,”shegrumbles.Itdoesnotactuallysoundlikeshethinksit’sawesome,though.
“It’sadate,”Isaycheerfully,outofhabitandinstinctandnothingelse,Iswear.Butshescowlsanyway.“Imeannotadatedate,obviously.Justadate,asinadateandtime.Moreofanappointment,really.Anappointmenttocompleteanassignedtask.”
“Stoptalking,”shesaysagain.
And,right,yes.That’sprobablyagoodidea.17
RUBY
“Oh!”MorgansayswhenIunceremoniouslydropintotheseatacrossfromheratthelibrary.“IwasstartingtothinkI’dbeenditched.”Shelooksatmeforhalfasecond,hercheeksflushingwhenoureyesmeet,andthenquicklylooksaway.
Iscrunchupmyforeheadandthenrememberthemakeup.Asin,themetrictonofpageantmakeupcurrentlycoveringmyface.I’mstillpickingupextraclasses,andtodayIwasstuckworkingwithCharlene’slittleststudents.Ibribedthembyofferingtoletthemwatchmedoafullfaceattheendofclassiftheybehaved.Tothem,it’snotaburden.Tothem,it’smagic.Unfortunately,italsomademelate.
“Yeah,sorry.IknowIlooklikeaclown,”Isay,pullingapenciloutofmybackpackandtryingtoshovedowntheembarrassment.“IwouldhavebeenanotherhourifIactually—”
“Ilikeit,”shesays,allquiet,andforasecondtheembarrassmentmixesinwithsomethingelse.“Youdoapageanteveryweekend,then?”
“No.”Iscribblemynameontopofthepacketandslideitbackovertoher.“ThiswasactuallyforaclassI’mteaching.I’msortofbarteringwithmypageantcoachrightnowforextralessons.Ihelpherleadclassesanddemonstratemakeuptechniques,andinexchangeshehelpsmenotbombtheinterviewportionsofmycompetitions.”
“Wow,that’sdedication.”
“Hardly,”Imumble.
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Don’tworryaboutit.”
Shewriteshernameneatly,rightundermine.“Ifyoudon’treallyloveit,thenwhydoyoudoit?”
Herquestionstartlesme,boththeassumptionthatIhavearealsayinthematterandthesuggestionthatifIdid,Iwouldn’tchoosethis.
“WhosaysIdon’tloveit?”
“Theexpressiononyourface.”
Isigh.“Fine.Mymomwasabeautyqueenbeforeshehadme.ItmeansalottoherthatIfollowinherfootsteps.”Itackonthatlastpart,likethatcoversit.Likewe’lljustskateoveralltheothercomplicatedcrapthatgoesalongwithlivingwithandlovingmymomandjustleaveitatthat.
“Doyoualwaysdowhatpeoplewantyoutodo?”Herfaceissosincere,sohonest.She’snotjustmakingboringconversation;shereally,trulywantstoknow.
“Onlywhenitcomestomymother.Life’saloteasierthatway.”AndI’msogratefulthatmycaked-onmakeupcoverstheshamethatcomeswithadmittingsomethinglikethat.EspeciallytosomeonelikeMorgan.Someonewholivessoloudandreal,inwaysIcouldneverdare.
“I’msorry,”Morgansays,turningbacktothebookinfrontofher.
“Don’tbe;it’sfine.”
“Okay,thenI’mnot,”shesays,andflipsoneofthepages.
Ibetshe’sgivingmeachancetochangethesubjectorchallengeheronitorsomething.Andforsomereason—Idon’tknowwhy—IdesperatelywanthertoknowthatIdotry,butIhavetoworkwithwhatIhave,tofightthebattlesIcanactuallywin.
“I’menteringthecountypageant,though,”Isay,andshelooksup.“ThatoneIdowanttowin.Forme.”
“Really?”Shetapsherpenagainstherlipslikeshe’stryingtofiguremeout.Ialmostthinkaboutlettingher.
“Yeah.Thetopsixfinishersgetascholarshiptothecommunitycollege.There’sanautomotiveprogramthere,andifIgotacceptedandcouldaffordtogo…”Itrailoff,losingmynerve.I’veneversaidthisoutloudbefore,noteventoEverly.WhatisitaboutMorganthatmakesmymouthrunofflikethis?“Forgetit,it’sstupid.”
“Itdoesn’tsoundstupid.”Sheleansbackinherseat,stillstudyingmyface.Icantellwhenhereyescatchonmylips,overglossedandbrightlycolored,lingeringjustalittlelongerthannecessaryandsendingajoltofelectricitydowntomytoes.Herexpressionrightnow…Idon’tknow.It’slikeshe’sfascinated.Likeshe’sdiscoveringanewspeciesorsomethingandreally,reallyexcitedaboutit.LikeI’msomegreatfindorsomething.
IlookawaybeforeIdosomethingwe’llbothregret.
“What’sstupidaboutit?”shepresses.
“You’reprobablygoingtoareallygreatschool,so.”
“Itsoundslikeyouaretoo.”
Iraisemyperfectlypainted-ineyebrows.“I’msittingheretellingyouthatI’mtryingtoscammywayintohavingapageantpayforanautomotiveprogramatacommunitycollege,andyou’re,like,aD-Iathleteorwhatever.”
“Notyet.AndmaybenoteverifIdon’tplaynicewithmyoldschool.”
Iflickmyeyestohers,aquestiononmylips,butshewavesmeoff.Fine.Lether.Weshouldbekeepingthisconversationtotheassignmentanyway.
“Ithinktheautomotiveprogramsoundsawesome,”shesayssuddenly,herfacebreakingintoasmilesowarmandgenuineittiesmystomachupinknots.“I’mguessingbyyourcaryouhavetheskillstopullitoff.I’m,like,completelyinaweofyourightnow.”
“Why?”
“Becauseyou’redoingsomethingthatmatters!Youfixthingsandmakethemwholeagain.That’simportant!It’skindofamazing.”Sheblushesandbitesherlip.“AllIdoisrunreallyfast.”
Iclearmythroatandlookaway,herattentionsuddenlyfeelingtooheavy.Idon’twantittostop,butIneeditto.
“Okay,theEndangeredSpeciesAct,”Morgansays,turningtothefirstpageofthepacket.Likenothingishappening.Likewe’rejusttwostudentsworkingonaprojectagaininsteadof…whateverthatjustwas.
Ormaybethatwasnothing.
Maybeheatdoesn’tpoolinherbellywhenshelooksatme,thewayminedoeswhenIlookather.Maybeshedoesn’tthinkofmeatnightwhenit’squiet.Maybethisisallinmyhead.
Thatwouldbeforthebest,honestly.Becausethealternativeisthatshe’sjustthatperfect.Thatshecanreadmealready,cantellwhenIgetlostinmyownhead,andknowsexactlyhowtogetmeoutofit.Thatsheknowswhentopushandwhentogivemespace.
Ipulloutmyphone,notwillingtofallanyfartherdownthisrabbithole.
“Here,”Isay,pullingupsomewebsitesIsavedlastnightandramblingoffsomefactsIlearned.Shesmilesagain,occasionallylookingupasshewritesdowntheanswersIalreadyfound.
“What?”Ifinallyaskwhenhersmirksandglancesbecometoomuchtoignore.
Shekeepswriting,notevenmissingabeat.“Nothing.”
“No,seriously.What?”Iaskagain,thegoodfeelingbleedingintoself-consciousness.
Shestilldoesn’tlookup.“You’rejustreallyfullofsurprises.”
Andyeah.
Ikindoflikethesoundofthat.18
MORGAN
“IsworkingwithRubytheworstorwhat?”Lydiaasks.She’swalkingmetothePrideClubmeetingonherwaytosportsstudyhall.
“Weactuallygotalotdone,”Isay,feelingmarginallydefensive.
Shescoffs.“Youmeanyougotalotdone.”
“No,shehelpedalot.”
“RubyThompsonhelped?Asin,pulledherweight?Asin,actuallyshoweduptothelibraryanddidn’tjustsittherecomplainingandwaitingforyoutofindtheanswers?”
“No,”Isay,pausingbythedoor.IstillwishLydiawouldcomein,butI’mtryingreallyhardtogetoverthefactthatshewon’t.
“Really?”
“Really,”Isayinaslightlyexasperatedtone.“Wegotthroughmostofthepacket,andsheprobablydidmorethanIdid.Itwasactuallykindoffun.Shewassupernicethewholetime.”
Andthat,thatsendsLydia’seyebrowstothesky.“RubyThompsonisnotsupernice.Wait,didweslipintoanothertimeline?Isthissomebutterflyeffectthing?Areyoufeelingokay?”Sheputsherhandtomyforehead.“Hmm,nofever.”
Ipushherhanddown.“Ohmygod.Nofever,noslippedtimelines,seriously.Ithinkyou’vegotherallwrong.Ievenofferedtodoitonmyown,andshewasprettyfirmabouthelping.”Ileanagainstthedoorframe,shiftingoutofthewaywhenAnikaandAaronwalkintogetherlaughing.“Idon’tthinkyouknowheraswellasyouthinkyoudo.”
Lydiasnorts.“I’veknownRubysincethefourthgrade.Maybeshecanfakeyououtforalittlewhile,but—”
“Butwhat?”
“Justbecareful,okay?I’dhateforyoutogetallcaughtupinherdrama.”
Ms.Mingwalkspastmeandintotheroomthen,herpresencecuttingmeoffbeforeIcanrespond.
“Areyousureyouwon’tcomein?”Iask.Lydiashakesherhead.“Evenifyoudon’twanttobeout,youcouldstill—”
“Don’t,”Lydiasaysasshewalksaway.“Havefunatyourclub.I’llseeyouattrack.”
Idon’tmissthewayshesays“yourclub.”
“Yeah,seeyouattrack.”
???
Brennankicksthemeetingoffwiththeusualthings—approvingminutesfromthelastmeetingandgoingoveroldbusiness,bywhichImeandesigningsomenewbulletinboardsandclubpostersfortheschool—andthenturnsthefloorovertoMs.Mingtogoovernewbusiness.
Shehopsupontoherdeskandclapsherhandstogether.“Okay,it’stimetogetseriousaboutourend-of-the-yearserviceproject.Thoughts?”
Everyonegoesquiet.
“Itdoesn’thavetobesomethinghugeorevenfullyplannedout.Justsaywhateveryou’rethinking,andthenwecanbuildfromthere.Ithinkwe’vehadanexcellentyearoverall,butarethereanyopportunitieswemissed?Arethereanywayswecouldexpandourreachorourfocustohelpothers?”
Aaronclearshisthroat.“Idon’treallyknowhoworwhatyet,butIwouldlovetodosomethingthataddressestheissuesthattranskidsface.Myparentshavebeensupercoolaboutit,butthat’sreallynoteveryone’sexperience.”
Anikasitsupstraighter.“Andtheclubcoulddefinitelybedoingmoretoaddresstheimpactracehasonthingstoo.Likethewholecenteringofwhitenessinqueerspacesandstuff.”
Ms.Mingnods.“Thosearebothexcellentnotes.Howcanweturnthemintoaserviceableproject?Whatcanwedoonourleveltoaddtotheconversationandbepartofthesolution?”
Wesearchoneanother’sfaceslikewe’llfindtheanswersthere,andthatsinkingfeelingcomesback,thatutterlyhelplessnot-doing-enoughfeelingIcanneverseemtooutrun.
“Noclue,”Drewmoans,breakingthesilenceandmakingafewpeoplelaugh.
“Okay,”Ms.Mingsays,hoppingdownandwritingWhatistheissueandhowcanwehelp?onthewhiteboard.“Canourschoolclubsolveallofthecomplicatedissuessurroundingtransnessorracialinequalityinthequeercommunityduringoneafternoon?Ofcoursenot.Solet’strytobreakitdownintosomethingmoremanageableinstead.Cananyonethinkofaspecificproblemrelatedtothesetopics?Onceweidentifythat,itshouldbeeasiertobrainstormsolutions.”
Anikatapsherfingersonherdeskassheconsidersthis.“Homelessness,”shesaysfinally.“ItreallyimpactsLGBTQ+youthingeneral,butIwasreadingsomethingtheotherdaythatsaidithitsthetransandqueerPOCcommunitiesthehardest.”
Ms.Mingwriteshomelessnessontheboard.
“Yeah,that’strue,”Aaronsays.“Wehavealotofpeopledropinatthecenterlookingforresourcesforthat.Kidsgetkickedoutbytheirparentsorrunawaybecausethey’rescaredoftheirreaction.”
Ishiftinmyseat,thinkingaboutallthebooksthatIzziesaidwerefromvariousdonors,andithitsme.“Whatifwedo,like,aclothingandfooddrive?”
Ms.Minglooksthoughtful.“Andhowdoesthatanswertheproblemofqueeryouthhomelessness?”
“Wecouldaskfordonationsoffood,clothing,toothpaste,giftcards,whatever,”Isay.“AndthenAaronandIcantakethemtothecentertohandouttoteenswhocomeinneedinghelp.”
“Thatactuallysoundsreallycool,”Anikasays.“Maybewecouldevengetpeopletodonatetheiroldbackpackstoo.Wecouldmake,like,bug-outbagsforteens.”
“I’msureIzziewouldloveit,andshedoesn’thaveaprogramlikethatgoingyet,”Aaronadds.“She’dprobablyletushaveadisplayinthemainareaforpeoplethatjustwanttocomeinandgrabstuff.Like,evenifyoudon’twanttoformallysayyouneedthehelp,youcanhaveaccess.”
“Won’tthatleadtopeoplejuststealingthestuff,then?”Brennanasks.
Aaronshrugs.“Ifsomebodyseriouslywantstostealtoothpastefromaqueercommunitycenterinourcrappytown,thenletthem.Theyprobablyneedit.Andeveniftheydon’t,it’sariskI’mwillingtotake.”
“Couldweputupdonationbinsinthecafeteria?”Anikaasks.
Ms.Mingnods.“Ithinktheschoolwouldbeamenabletothat.AndIcanalsoreachouttoMrs.HalltogetsomeofherNationalHonorSocietykidstopitchinifweneedhelpsortingstuff.They’realwaysscramblingforextravolunteerhoursthistimeoftheyear.Whatdoyousay?Shouldwevoteonit?”
“Hellyeah,”Drewsays.AndIgrinbecausethisfinallyfeelslikemakingadifference.
“Allinfavor?”Mrs.Mingasks.
Everysinglekidraisestheirhand.19
RUBY
Ilookdownatmyphone,frowningatthetextfromTyler:youbusytonight?
Iknowhe’sgotanotherbiggamecomingup,whichisourusualarrangement,butIheardarumorthathe’sbeen“blowingoffsteam”withAllieMarcettieversinceIstartedditchinghim.Iwishhe’djusttextherandkeepmeoutofit.
“Somethingimportant?”Morganasks,andIflipmyphoneoverbeforeshesees.
“Nope.”Ismile.
We’relyingonagiantfuzzyrugonherbedroomfloor,face-to-facewithourbooksandlaptops—well,herlaptop;Idon’tactuallyhaveone—spreadoutbetweenus,alongwithsomepapersandtherestofourpacket,whichisjustaboutfinished.
Ihaveanotherpageantinalittlewhile,oneofthosecrappymalloneswhereyoujustgetdressedupandstandinaline.We’resupposedtolookhotandhopemaybethere’samodelingcontractinitforsomeofus—butthereneveris.Momsaysit’sgood“forexperience.”IfIcouldrollmyeyesanyharder,Iwould
WhenMorganheardIhadonetoday,sheofferedtocometomyhousetostudyinstead.Shethoughtitwouldbeeasierthanmecartingallmystuffhere,butIsaidno.Shemightliveinalittleapartment,butit’sanicelittleapartment.Quietandmeticulouslyclean.Andmyplaceisrarelytheformerandneverthelatter.EspeciallynotwithbothChuckandmymomaround.
“Okay,soIthinkwehaveeverythingweneedtowriteouressays,”Morgansays,fillinginthelastanswer.“Whichmeansweofficiallyneedtofigureoutwhatwewanttodoforthepresentation.”
Isigh.“Notlookingforwardtothatpart.”
“Seriously?”Shebitestheeraseronherpencilwithanincredulouslook.
“Wait,didyouthinkIactuallylikedclasspresentations?”Icrinklemyforehead.“Nobodylikesthem.”
“Well,notnormalpeople,butIthought…Imean,you’renot…”
“I’mnotwhat?”TheimplicationthatI’mnotnormalinstantlyraisesmyhackles.
“Notlikeeverybodyelse,”shesays.
“How?”Iask,myheartnose-divingintothedirt.EverybodyelsearoundhereknowsI’mtrash;IguessitwasjustamatteroftimebeforeMorganfigureditouttoo.
“Oh,comeon.”ShesitsupandkindofwavesherhandsinfrontofmelikeIshouldknowwhatthatmeans.“You’re…Youdopageantsandstuff.Isawyouonstage;you’reabornentertainer!Itwas…Youwereamazing.”
Ilookaway,blushcreepingupmyneck,myears,mycheeks,anddowntomytoesfromthesoundofhervoice.Because“amazing”isnotawordusedtodescribeme,andshekeepsthrowingitaroundlikeit’snobigdeal.
“Thanks,”Imumble,sittingupquick.Itsuddenlyfeelsalittlewarminhere,alittletooclose,withhersofteyesandhersmilejustafewinchesawayfrommine.IscramblebackwarduntilIhithernightstand,grabbingmynotebookafterandtryingtomakeitseemdeliberate.
Sheletsoutalittlelaughasshepullsoutafreshsheetofpaper.“So,Ithinkforthepresentation—”Thealarmonmyphonecutsheroff.
“Shit.”
“What?”
“Ihavetogetready.Sorry.”Ican’ttellifshe’sdisappointedorrelievedwhenIjumpupandgrabmybag.Ican’ttellwhichoneIameither.
“CanIwatchyou?”Morganasks,paddingaftermetowardthebathroom,andherquestionsoundssoinnocentbutfeelssoheavy.
“Sure,”Isay,likemyheartisn’tpoundinginmyearsatthethought.Sheperchesontheedgeofthetub,watchingmeintentlyasIpulloutmyarsenal:mycontouringtools,eyeshadows,settingsprays,primers,blushes,lipsticks,lipliners,lipglosses,andeverythingelseittakestotransformmefromregularRubytoPageantRuby?.
“Wow,”Morgansays,readingthebackofabottleofsettingspray.“Thislooksintense.”
“Yeah,Iguessittakesalottomakeagirllikemelookpresentable.”Imeanitasajoke,butitclearlydoesn’tland.
“No.”Shefrownsandsetsthebottleofsettingspraydown.Herresponsehangsintheair,andI’mnotsurehowtorespond.
Instead,Isettoworklayingthefoundationandcontouringmyselfuntilmycheekboneslooksharpandmynoselooksperfect,andthenIfillinmyeyebrows,changethecolorofmyeyelids,andglueonfakeeyelashestoboot.
Morgan’squietatfirst—watchingmelikeahawk—butsoonstartschatteringaway,tellingmehowstir-crazyshe’sgoinghavingtositoutmeets,andfinallyfillingmeinonthewholewaiverthing.
Ihateheroldschool.
Halfwaythrough,IworkupthenervetoaskMorganwhyshelikestorunsomuch.Myquestionismetwithalongsilence.
“IsortoffellintoitaftermygrandmadiedwhenIwaseleven,”shesaysfinally.
Mybrushstills.“Thatseemslikeaweirdwaytogetintorunning.”
“Wewereveryclose.”Morganshrugs.“Shelivedontheedgeofthisamazingpreserve.Sheusedtosweartherewerewolves,butIneversawone.Weusedtomakelittlefairyhousestogetherandthenwanderthroughthedeertrails,hidingthem.Iwasconvincedthepreservewasmagical.”
“Cute,”Isay,tiltingmyheadbackandforthinthemirrortomakesureI’mblendedwellfromeveryangle.
“Itwas,untilmygrandmadied.”
“Right.”Iforgotwhereweweregoingwiththis.
“Afterthefuneral,Iranbacktothepreserve.Dylanchasedmeasfarashecoulduntilthewoods‘swallowedmeup.’Hiswords,butthat’swhatitfeltlike.HenevercamewithGramandmeonourwalks,sohedidn’tknowthetrailslikeIdid.Iwashappytogetlostinthere.IcouldpretendGramwasjustaroundthecornerorbeyondthenextfork.Butofcourse,shewasn’t.IranuntilIcouldn’tanymore.AndthenIwalkedoutexhausted,withmyfuneralclothesallmuddyandsweaty.Dylwaslyinginthegrasswaiting.Hewasn’tmadoranything.Hejustsaid,‘Comeon,Usain,let’sgethome.’Andthat’swhenIrealizedIwasfast.”
“Youdefinitelyarethat,”Isay.Oureyesmeetinthemirror,andshesmileslikeit’sthemostnaturalthingintheworld,andIsmileback.Likeit’sfine.LikeI’mallowedtoo.Ilookaway,messingwithallmybottlesandcontainers.“Doyoustillruninthewoods?”
“Forcross-country,yeah.OtherwiseIsticktoroads,unlessI’mupset.Gettinglostinthetreesstillcalmsmedown,Iguess.”
Myeyeslingeronhersforasecondtoolong.Onsomelevel,IknowI’monlyheretodoschoolwork,andthatI’mdoingmymakeupthesamewayI’vedoneittenthousandtimesaroundtenthousandothergirls—butIcan’tshakethefeelingthatthisisdifferentsomehow.
Ileanclosertothemirrorandputthetiniestdabofhighlighteroverthelipstickonmybottomlip,makingitlookextraplumpandkissable.I’mplayingitup;Iam,butIhaven’tbeenabletostopthinkingabouthowshelookedatthelibrary,nomatterhowhardItry.Iflickmyeyestohers,andhermouthpopsopenwithalittlehuff,telegraphingherfeelingsloudandclear.She’salways,alwayssoloud,evenwhenshedoesn’tmeantobe.Especiallywhenshedoesn’tmeantobe.
Irevelinherexpression,justalittlebit,beforeshovingmyhighlighterbackintomykit.
WhatamIdoing?
Thisisjustagroupproject,Iremindmyself.Forschool.That’sallitcanbe.Shecanpretenditdoesn’tmatterthatshe’sagirlwholikesgirls.Shecanactlikeit’sfineandnormal.Butthat’snothoweveryoneseesit.Nothowmymomseesit.Nothowthejudgesseeit.AndyetlookingatMorganMatthewsrightnow,andthewayshejustlickedherlips,Ialmostwantto—
“Whatareyouthinkingabout?”sheasks,andIdesperatelytrytoshoveeverythoughtofkissingheroutofmyhead.
“Just…”Itrytoshakeofftheconfusionthat’sspinningspiderwebsinmyhead.WhatifI’vebeentheflyandnotthespiderallalong?
“Just…?”
Ilookdown,pretendingtotakeaninventoryofthemessI’vemadeofherbathroom.AndIhaven’tevendonemyhairyet.“JustthatIforgottheclipsIusewhilecurlingmyhair.Youdon’thappentohaveany,doyou?”
“Ihave,like,bobbypins,ifthathelps.ButIdon’treallyhavehairanymore,youknow?”Sheanglesherheadandpointstoherpinkpixiecut,whichonlyservestomakehernecklookextradelicateandtouchable.
I’msoscrewed.
Iscrunchupmyeyesandexhale,cuttingoffthatlineofthought.“No,likethebigclips,”IsaywhenI’mfinallybackinthedriver’sseatofmybrain.“Theonestheyuseathairsalonsandstufftosectionoffyourhair.”
“Peopleactuallyownthose?”Morganasks,lookingalittlebitscandalized.“Ithoughtthatwasstrictlyasalonthing.Idon’tevenknowifDylhasthemathisshop.You’resayingthisis,like,acommonhouseholdgood?”
“Maybenotcommoncommon,butyeah,peopleownthem.Alotofpeople.”Ilaugh.“Itmakesitahundredtimeseasiertocurlyourhairwhensomeofit’soutoftheway.”
“Ifyoujustneeditoutoftheway,thenIcouldholdit,right?I’mhappytobeyourliving,breathinghairclip.”
“Sure,”Isay,eventhougheverythinginsidemeisscreamingthatthisisabadidea.Ipluginmycurler,waitingforittoheatup,andcordonoffpartofmyhair.Shestepsupclose,socloseIcansmellthespring-freshdryersheetsonherclothes.
“Letme.”Shesweepsthehairupfrommyneck,andIshiverfromhertouch—Ican’thelpit.Inthemirror,Iwatchherfingerscardthroughmyhair,hereyesfixedonthelittlescaronmyshoulderthatIgotfromtrippingatapageantwhenIwassixandhadn’tfullyrealizedhowslipperynewtapshoeswereyet.
Morganlooksup,andIlookaway,pickingupmycurlingiron.Ittakesusaminutetogettherhythmright,butbytheend,she’santicipatingmynextcurlbeforeIam.
“Wow,”shebreatheswhenI’mfinallydone.AndIthinkIwanttolivehere,inthespaceofthat“wow,”inthatonelittlesyllableshe’smanagedtostuffsofullofadorationandjoy.
Butmyphone’sseriouslynow,youhavetogoalarmscreeches,burstingthelittlebubblewe’vemade.Iexcusemyselfandgrabmydressoffthehangerinherroom.Shefollowsmeout,sittingonherbedwhileIdisappearbehindcloseddoors.Ishimmyintomybodyshaperbeforetapingandtwistingmyselfintoasmuchofanapproximationofthisindustry’s“idealfemaleform”aspossible.
“Morgan,”Icall,pullingthebathroomdooropen.“Canyou?”Igesturetomyback,wherethezipperisstillundone,asifclosingmydressisn’tsomethingI’vebeenabletodoblindfoldedandupsidedownsinceIwasfive.
I’mplayingwithfirehere,andherhandsarelikegasoline.
Iturnaroundwhenshecomescloser,holdingmybreathassheslowlypullsthezipperup,oneagonizingsecondatatime.Azingripplesdownmyspine,settingthebabyhairsonmyneckonedgeasIimaginewhatwouldhappenifIaskedhertopullittheotherwayinstead.
Aheavybreathbrushesagainstmyneckasshefinishes,andIleanback,justalittle,intohertouch.
“Peoplekeeptellingmetostayawayfromyou,”shesayssoftly,andsomeofthewarm,fuzzyfeelinginmyheadclears.
“Right,”Isay,puttingspacebetweenus.
Shetugsmyhandgently,turningmeuntilwe’reface-to-face.“DoyouthinkIshould?BecauseIreallydon’twantto.”
Idon’twanthertoeither,butwhatrightdoIhavetosaythat?
Ipullmyhandbackslowly,notsurehowtoanswer.“I’mgoingtobelate.”20
MORGAN
Myparentssurpriseusandcomeupforbrunchtodayinsteadofdinner,whichI’mactuallyhappyabout.Withmyvolunteerhoursatthecenterlater,Iwouldhavemissedthemotherwise,andIreallyneedahugfrommymomaftermyconfusingstudydatewithRuby.There’snothingnewtoreportwithourcase,soforoncewegettojustrelaxandlaughinbetweenbitesofmymom’sFrenchtoastcasseroleandmydad’sscrambledeggs.It’skindofperfect.
Whentheyheadoutfortheirlongdrivehome,IflopontomybedandgobacktoobsessingovermylatestinteractionwithRuby.It’sbecominganunwelcomehabit,whichiswhyIdecidetoditchmybikeinfavorofanicelongjogtothecenter.Nothingclearsmyheadbetterthanrunning.
Iturnthevolumeuphigheronmyheadphonesandpushmypace,doingmybesttoforgetaboutRubywitheveryslapofmysneakersonasphalt.Butthenagain,watchingheressentiallyputdifferentdotsofpaintonherfacetoturnitinto,well,awholeotherface,wasprettydamnimpressive.AndthewayherbreathcaughtasIpulledupthatzipper
Ishakemyheadandkeeprunningbecauseeverythingafter—thewayshepulledback,thewayshedidn’tanswerwhenIaskedifIshouldstayaway—sucked.Andgod,Ineedtostop.Ineedtofocus.Therecanbeabsolutelynomorestar-crossedloversstaringinabathroommirrorcrap,nomoresearchingforherinthehall.She’sbeingdowngradedfromgirlfriendmaterialtorandomstudentthat’snicetolookat.Becausethere’snodenyingsheisreallynicetolookat.Andtotalkto.And…
Irunevenfaster—alloutsprintingnow—tryingtooutrunanythoughtsofRuby’scompletelydreamylowerlip.Ineedtogetagrip.Thisisjustaridiculouschemicalreactioninmybrain.That’sallitis.That’sallI’mlettingitbe.
ExceptI’msoutterlylostinmythoughts,tryingtoconvincemyselfthat’strue,thatInearlyrunrightpastthecenter.Ibankleftandcutintotheparkinglotatthelastsecond.
“Hey,”AaronsayswhenIwalkinallsweatyandoutofbreath.Runninghere,thougheffective,waspossiblynotmybestidea.
“Hi.”Ibendoverwithmyhandsonmythighs.Definitelyshouldhaveskippedthatwholesprinting-at-the-endpart.
“Youready,ordoyouneedaminute?”heasks.“Yourappointmentisalreadyhere.”
Istandup,bolsteredbythenews.Today,I’mmeeting“Danny,”thestudentathletetheytoldmeaboutbefore.WhileAaronisgoingtopopinandoutafewtimes,I’mgoingtoberunningtheshowmostlyonmyownfortheveryfirsttime.
“Iamdefinitelyready.”Igrin.
Aaronleadsmeintothecounselingroom,whereaboyaboutmyageisseated.HenodsbeneathathickmopofbrownhairwhenIwalkinandthenfixeshiseyesdirectlyonmine.Hisbodyistense,hiskneebouncingamileaminute,likehisentirepsycheisdecidingbetweenfightorflight.
“Danny,thisisMorgan.Morgan,Danny.I’llletyoutwogettoit,butI’llbejustoutsideifeitherofyouneedanything.”Aaronleaveswithalittlewave,andIdropintothecomfychairacrossfromDanny.
Theroomissmall,butnottoosmall,theoverheadfluorescentlightsflickedoffinfavorofwarmfloorlamps.Ithasadeskandchairinthecenterofit,butI’vebeensittingintheseoverstuffedreclinerswhenIobserveAaronandIzzie’smeetings,andIlikethembetter.BeingnexttothepersonI’mtalkingtofeelsalotmorenaturalthansittingonoppositesidesofadesk.
Dannyshiftsinhisseat,andIsmile.“So,whatdoyouplay?”
Helooksatmesuspiciously.“Doesitmatter?”
“Iguessnot.”Idon’tbothertellinghimthatIalreadyknowit’sfootballandthathisname—eventhoughI’mnotsurewhatitis—definitelyisn’tDanny.Ialsodefinitelydon’ttellhimthatI’veseenhimplayagainstmyoldschool,morethanonce.“Whatwouldyouliketotalkabout,then?”
“Why’syourhairpink?”heasks.
“Youwanttotalkaboutmyhair?”SomehowthisisnothowIenvisionedthisgoing.
Hesmirks.“Peopledon’tdyetheirhairweirdcolorsiftheydon’twantanyonetonotice.”
“Fairenough.”Icrossmyarms.Hehasapoint.“Itransferredfromasuperstrictprivateschoolthatdidn’tallow‘unnaturalhaircolors.’Unfortunately,italsodidn’tallowgirlskissingothergirls—something,youknow,Ireallylikedoing.SonowI’mhere,livingwithmybrother,whohappenstoownabarbershopfullofhairdye,tryingtograbontomyfreshstarthoweverIcan.”
Dannyraisesaneyebrow.“Andpinkhairdoesthat?”
“Kinda.It’ssomethingcompletelynewtome.Besides…”Itwistmyfaceupinmockconfusion.“Doyouseehowcutethislooks?Everyoneshouldgopink.Infact,Icantextmybrotherandseeifhehasanopeningifyou—”
Dannylaughsandshakeshishead.“No,I’mgood.”
“Okay,”Isay.“Well,ifyou’renothereforamakeover,maybeweshouldtalkaboutwhatyouareherefor.”
Hesucksdownadeepbreathandbraceshimselfashenods.Andthenthewordspouroutofhim.He’sgay,hesays.Andhe’sfreakedthatifhecomesout,histeammateswillbeallweirdaboutit.IresisttheurgetoreassurehimwithplatitudeslikeTheywon’t,orItwillallbeokay.Iknowthatmaynotbetrue.Peoplemightbeweird.Theywillprobablybeweird.Theywereweirdtome.
SoinsteadItellhimwhatmymomalwaystellsme:“Ifsomebodydoesn’tthinkwedeservetoloveandbelovedthewaywewant,withwhateverpersonwewant,thentheydon’tdeserveourtimeorattentionanyway.”
Hedoesn’tlookconvinced.
Idon’tsugarcoatit.Itellhimitprobablywillbehardanduncomfortableatfirst,butthateveryoneshouldlivetheirtruth.Andthatifhefeelsreadytocomeout,heshould.Aaronsmilesfromthedoorway—oneofhisquickpop-ins—andgivesmealittlethumbs-upbeforedisappearingagain.
“WhatifIcomeoutandtheykickmeofftheteam?”
“Theycouldtry,”Isay,“buthopefullytheywouldn’tgetveryfar.”Helooksatmeinconfusion,andthenItellhimmystory.Hesayshe’sheardofmeandseenmyfamilyonthenews.IpretendtobesurprisedwhenhetellsmehegoestoaprivateschoolnottoofarfromwhereIusedtolive.
AndthenItellhimthathopefullyoneday,oncethislawsuitissettled,schoolswon’tdarepullthiscrap—notevenoverpriced,overblownprivateschoolslikeours.Hesayshewishesthatdayweretoday.
And,yeah,metoo.
???
Dylancomeshomelatewithapizza.Heexcitedlytellsmethathefinallyaskedoutthatwomanhe’sbeencrushingon,andshesaidyes.ItrynottothinktoohardabouthowmuchIwishthatweremeandRuby.Heheadsofftobedearly,butIstayupwatchingNetflixallnightandobsessing.
Andthen,sometimearoundmidnight,throwingcautiontothewind,Igrabmyphoneandsendheratext:Hopethepageantwentwell!?21
RUBY
Ireadhertextabouttenthousandtimes,thinkofaboutahundreddifferentwaystoanswer,butintheend,Idonothing.Notevenaquicklow-key“thanks.”Ijustleaveherhanging.Likeanasshole.
OnMonday,wehavetheentireclasstimetoworkonourpresentation.Mystomachisinknotswaitingtoseewhatshesays.Butshesaysnothing.Morganactslikethereisn’tanythingbetweenus.LikeI’mjustanotherclassmateorcoworkerorsomething.Shedoesn’tgetmad.Orcrackajokeaboutit.Oracknowledgeitatall.She’sjust…completelyfine,andIhateit.
IknowthatIdon’thavetherighttohateit,thatIdeserveworsethanthisforbothrushingoffandnotreturninghertext,butI’dtakeannoyanceorangertothisindifferenceanyday.
OnTuesday,sheflat-outignoresme,lookingrightthroughmeinthehalls,andIcan’ttakeit.Igetlostonmywaytomycarafterschoolandaccidentallyendupatthetrackwatchingherpractice.Everlyistheresnappingpicsoftheguysandgrabsanothercandidshotofwhatshecallsmy“moony-for-Tylerface.”
Good.Letherthinkthat.
Unfortunately,thisconfusesthehelloutofTyler,whoseemstothinkIreallywastheretowatchhimpractice.Thatnight,Ireplytohisbooty-calltextwithapictureoflotionandsometissues.
Oh,andMorgan?Shedidn’tlookatthestandsoncetheentiretime.
ByWednesdaynight,afteranotherlongdayofbeingignored,Iloseitalittle.ItextheranarticleIdugupaboutsomerunnerwhodidanultramarathon.Idon’tevenknowwhatanultramarathonis,butIfigureshe’lllikeit.
Shedoesn’trespond,becausekarma.
Meanwhile,EverlyisupmybuttaskingmewhyI’msuchasadsack,andevenBillycalledmetocheckinsinceIhadn’tbeenaroundtheshopallweek.Iadmittoneitherofthemthatbesideshomework,workingforCharlene,andpageantprep,I’vejustbeenhomelickingmywounds.
InclassonThursday,IaskMorganifshegotmytext.Shesaysyesandthatitwasinteresting,butshesoundsweirdwhenshesaysit.Like,notunfriendly,butpolitelyunfeeling.LikeI’dsaid,Nicedayout,eh?insteadofgooglingfiftydifferentrunningarticlestotrytoimpressher.She’snotevenaskinghoworwhyIfoundit.
It’sdifficulttofocusonaspeechabouttheEndangeredSpeciesActwhenIfeellikeatimebombabouttoexplode.
Thatnight,Itrythetextangleagain:Readyforourpresentationtomorrow?
Thistimeshewritesback,justasimpleone-wordanswer,butI’lltakeit:Yes
Thenextmorning,I’mthrough-the-roofantsy.LikeIjustdrankadozenblackcoffeesandtoppedthemoffwithaMonster.Idon’tknowwhy.Scratchthat,Iknowexactlywhy.BecauseMorganresponded.
Butitwasonlyoneword,andIcan’tworkoutthetone.Areassuringyes?Oranannoyedyes?Theperiodattheenddoesn’tinstillconfidence.
Imaynotknowwhatshe’sthinking,butIknowwhatIwanthertobethinking,whichisthatshedefinitelyshouldnotstayawayfromme,evenifit’sforthebest.IflipbetweenwishingIhadtoldherthattoherface…andwishingIhadletherrunhomeintherainthatday.
Butherhands,Jesus,herhandsonmyback.Andthewayherbreathhitmyearfeatherlight.AndnowwehavetotalkaboutprotectingendangeredspecieswhileI’mfrustratedandconfusedandtiedupinknots.
“Areyouokay?”shewhisperstomeasLydiaandAlliewalkuptopresenttheAnimalWelfareAct.
Ishruglikeit’snobigdeal,eventhoughitis.BecauseIrealizedlastnightthatshemightneverspeaktomeagainafterthisgroupprojectends.Whogoestoapageantbychoiceandalsodoesn’twantadumbgroupprojecttoend?Thenewme.Apparently.Butonlyfornefariousreasons,soitstilltracks.
I’msolostinmyheadthatIdon’tregisteritatfirst,Morgan’shanddriftinglightlyovermineandsqueezing,likeshedidwhenIwasscaredofthecop.Myeyessnaptohers,searching.Becauseindifferentclassmatesdon’tholdhands.Notevenunderthetable.Asmallsmilecrossesherlips,andshewhispers,“Relax,we’vegotthis.”
Isqueezeback,noddingeventhoughIknowshe’stalkingaboutthepresentationandnot…us.Thewarmthfromherhandspreadsupmywrist,swirlingthroughmyveinsuntilitpoolsdeepinsideme,intheplacewhereallmy“girlcrushes”stickthelanding,thatlittlecornerofmethatgetsalittleswoonyandmaybealittlesomethingelsetoo.
Isitverystill.Ican’tdecideifourhandsshouldmoveorstay,butIdon’twanttobetheonetomakethatdecision.
Morgansqueezesoncemoreandthenpullsaway,organizingthenotecardsintotwoseparatepilesinfrontofher.Oneformetoreadandoneforher.Liketwogirlscanjustholdhandsandthengoonwiththeirlivesorsomething.
Andthat’swhentheshamecreepsin.ThatawfulIshouldnotwantthis,mymomisgoingtokillme,whatthehellamIdoing,peoplewillgetideasshameforhowmuchIlike—
“Ruby?Morgan?You’reup,”Mrs.Morrisonsays,andholyshit,IjustobsessedthroughLydiaandAllie’sentirepresentation.
Morganlooksatmesortofexpectantly,soIscoopupthenotecardsandmarchuptothefront.Mrs.Morrisonhasalreadyloadedourpresentationontothescreenandholdsoutthelittleclickerthingtochangetheslides.ItakeitwithslightlyshakinghandsasMorgancomestostandbesideme.
Butshestandsalittletooclose,likeIcansmellhershampootooclose,andallrationalthoughtleavesmyheadwhenIinhalealittlemoredeeply.Isteptothesidejustalittlebit.Justenoughtorememberwe’resupposedtobetalkingaboutendangeredanimalsandnotwritinglovesongstofruityshampooandlavenderbodywash.Butthenshefollowsme,smilinglikeIwasmakingroomandnottryingtoescapethescentof…Whatisthat,even?Peaches?Canpeople’shairreallysmelllikepeaches?
“Ruby?”shewhispersoutthesideofhermouth,smilingattheclass.Right.Ihavethefirstcard.
Itrytoflipthetitlecardandreadthenextone,butIdropthemallinstead.Theyspilloutinfrontofme,andIkicksomeinmyrushtoscoopthemup.Afewpeopleinclasssnicker.Mycheeksflame.
ThisiswhyIdon’tdopresentations.
ThisiswhyIdon’tdogroupprojects.
ThisiswhyIhaveabarelypassingaverage.
I’majokehere.Amildlyamusingpieceoftrashthatmakeseverybodyelsefeelbetterabouttheirlives.
It’sdifferentonthepageantstage.I’mgoodatthat.Aswitchflips,andIbecomesomeoneelse.Confident.Smart.Witty,even.ButthisisinsecurityandindignityandeverythingIsuckat,allatonce.
Mrs.MorrisonshushestheclassasMorgandropsbesidemeandhelpsmeorganizethecards.Shehooksherpinkiearoundminejustforasecond,soquickIalmostthinkI’veimaginedit,andwhispers,“Youcandothis,Ruby.”
AndIdon’tthinkIcan,butIalsodon’twanttodisappointher.
Itakeadeepbreathandstandupalittletaller,alittlestraighter,pretendingI’monastage.Ismileandfocusonaspotonthebackwallafterglancingatmynotecards.AndIperform.
???
Idon’tseeheragainuntilafterthefinalbell,whenI’mrushingtomycartogettoaclassI’mcoveringforCharleneandshe’swalkingtotrack,herspikesdanglinglooselyoverhershoulder.LydiaandAlliearewalkingahead,butMorganslowsherpace,droppingbacktomatchmineassoonassheseesme.
“Youwereamazingtoday,”shesays,tiltingherheadtowardmeaswewalk.
Andthere’sthatwordagain.Amazing.“Youdidthehardparts,”Isay,becauseit’strue.SheassembledthePowerPointandkeptmefromlosingmyshit.
“Nuh-uh,youdon’tgettodothat.”
“Dowhat?”
“Downplayhowhardyouworkedonthisandhowmuchyoukilleditupthere.Iwasawreck,andyounailedit.”
“Youwerenervous?”Iask,archingmyeyebrows.“Icouldn’ttellatall.”
“Well,good,thenmaybewe’llactuallypulloffadecentgrade.Youturnedinyouressay,right?”
“Yeah.”IleaveoutthefactthatIhadtostayafterclasstwicethisweektogethelpfromMrs.Morrisononit.
Shestopswalkingandgesturesoverhershouldertowardthetrack.“Well,Ihaveto…”
“Yeah,Ihavetotoo.Ihavetocoveraclassformypageantcoach,andthenafter,Ihaveanothersessionofmyown.”
“Soundsintense.”
Iflipmyhairbackwithanexaggeratedsigh.“Ittakesalotofworktobethisamazing,youknow.”
“Nope,”shesays,andwhenIlookather,hereyeslooksoserious.“Idoubtthatverymuch.”
“Matthews!”thecoachcalls,blowingherwhistle.“Getyourassoverhere.”
Whateverspellwewereunderisbroken.Again.Everytime.
“Ibetter…”shesays.
“Right.”
“Hey,areyougoingtobearoundthisweekend?”Herquestioncatchesmeoffguard.
“W-Why…?Theproject’sover,”Istutterout,andherfacefalls.Ididn’tmeanitlikethat.Ididn’t.Iwasjustsurprisedthatshestill—
“Yeah,true,”Morgansays,walkingbackwardtowardthetrack.“Iwasjustthinkingofstudyingorsomething.”She’sactingallnonchalant,butIcantellshe’sembarrassed.
“There’salacrossepartytonight,”Iblurtout.
“Ohyeah?”
“Youshouldcome,”Isay,whichearnsmeaheadtilt.“Imean,it’sopentothegeneralpublic,soyoudon’tactuallyneedmyinvitation.Butitbeatsstudying.Imean,ifyougetbored.”
“Yeah,ifIgetbored,”Morgansays,andbitesherlip,whichjust—
“Matthews!”Coachshoutsagain.
“Youbettergo.”
Shesmilessobighereyescrinkle.“Yeah,Ibetter.”22
MORGAN
“Whyarewegoingtothelacrossepartyagain?”Lydiawhines,swipinganothercoatofmascaraonhereyelashes.
“Comeon,it’sariteofpassage,andMorgan’sneverbeen,”Alliesays.“Everybodyshouldexperiencethesplendorofhangingoutwithabunchofdrunklacrossebrosatleastonceintheirhighschoolyears,right?”
“ButwhydoIhavetosufferalongwithyou?”
“Wow,youguysarenotexactlysellingithere,”Isay,tryingtosoundcoolaboutiteventhoughIreally,reallywanttogo.JusttheideaofseeingRubyagain,especiallyNaturalHabitatRubyandnotFreakingOutOveraGroupProjectRubyorBeautyQueenRuby,hasmeridiculouslyintrigued.Soridiculouslyintrigued,infact,thatI’mwillingtoriskrunningintotheMillertwinsagaintodoit.
“Lydia’sjustbeingdramatic,”Alliesays,shimmyingintoatightgoldtanktop.“They’realwaysfun,plusfreeboozeforthegirls.Onlytheguysgetcharged.”
“Thatpartisnice,”Lydiaadmits.“Thoughself-servingandmildlytomoderatelydangerousatthesametime.”
“So…whatareyouwearingtonight?”Allieasksme,pointedlychangingthesubject.
“Uh,this?”IgesturetotheclothesIhaveon.
“Uh,no,”shesays,teasingme.“YoucannotgotoapartyintrackshortsandabandT-shirt.Sorry.”
“IliketrackshortsandbandT-shirts,”Isay.ExceptthenIthinkaboutRubyandhowshemightwanttoseemeoutofmyuniformjustasbadIwanttoseeheroutofhers.Wait,thatcameoutwrong…Ormaybeitdidn’t.Idon’tevenknowanymore.
“I’vegotsomethingbetter,”Lydiasays,disappearingintoherclosetandcomingoutwithskintightblackjeansandatanktopthat’sbarelythere.
“Ithinkthisistoosmall,”Isay,andthenrealizeitlacesupthewholeentireback.“It’snotevenashirt.It’slikehalfashirt.That’s—”
“Entirelythepoint,”Lydiasays,shovingmeintoherbathroomtogetchanged.
Twentyminuteslater,we’reallpiledintoAllie’scar.
“Whereisthisparty,anyway?”Iask.
“Oh,notfar,”shesays.“WecouldwalkthereifIweren’tintheseshoes.”
“Yeah,it’satTylerPortman’shouse,”Lydiasays.“Hisdadtravelsatonforwork,andhismomusuallygoeswithhim,soit’sjusthim.He’sbeenhostingkillerpartiessincewewerefourteen.”
“TylerPortman?”Iask,mystomachtwisting.AsintheTylerPortmanthatRubywas,andpossiblystillis,hookingupwith?
Itugatmyclothes,suddenlyfeelingevenmoreexposedandoffmygame.AtleastifIwerestillwearingmyoldstuffIcouldhopoutandrunaway.Inthis,I’meffectivelytrapped.Butseriously,whatisRubytryingtopull?
“He’sanepicdude-bro,butwhatcanyoudo?”Alliesays.“Hehasthebestparties,andhe’sactuallyprettysweetonceyoutalktohim.”
“Sincewhendoyouactuallytalktohim?”Lydiascoffs.
“Sincesometimes,”shesayswithasmirk.
“Ohmygod,areyouhookingupwithTylernow?”Lydiagroansandshakesherhead,butAlliejustlaughs.
“Icanneitherconfirmnordeny.ButifIwere,itwouldjustbeasuper-casual,no-strings-attachedthing.Like,we’renotexclusiveoranything.Notyet,anyway.”
“Youlittleshit,”Lydiasays,punchingherarm.“Ican’tbelieveyoudidn’ttellme!”
“It’snew.Verynew.”
AndIflopagainstmyseatwithasmile.Maybeit’sacoincidencethatRuby’sfirstrealinvitetomewastohishouse.Maybeshe’sdonewithTyler,andthisisherwayoftellinghimthat.Maybe,maybe,maybe.
???
Granted,I’veneverbeentoahousepartybefore,butIthoughtIhadaprettylowbarforbeingimpressed.NowthatI’mhere,Irealizeitshouldhavebeenevenlower,liketothebasementfloor.It’ssupercrowdedaswepushthroughthehousetothekitchen,Allieleadingtheway,laughingandshouting,“It’sbeertime,bitches!”
Themusicthumpshardenoughtomakethewallsrattle,andeverything’sstickyandsmellslikesweatandstalebeer.Ihaveneverwantedtobesomeplaceless—andthat’sbeforeInoticeRubygrindingagainstabunchofthelacrosseguys.
Okay,scratcheverythingIthoughtinthecar.I’mout.
Iturntoleave,butAlliestopsme,twobeersinherhands.Shegivesmeoneandraisestheotheroneintheair,dancingintothemiddleofthelivingroomtoachorusofcatcalls.Charmingplace,really,thishousefullofdumbboys.
Lydiacomesupbesidemethenwithherowncup,raisinganeyebrowatourdancingfriend.“Allieeatsthisshitup,”shesays,takingaheftyswigofbeer.Ifollowsuit,tryingnottocoughwhenthewarm,foamyliquidhitsthebackofmythroat.
“Isitalwaysthisgross?”Ishiftmyweighttounstickmyfeetfromthefloor,notentirelysureifI’mtalkingaboutthebeerorliterallyeverythingelse.
Lydianods,downingtherestofherbeerinagulpwhilewatchingAllieinthecrowd,herjawslightlytense,headtilted…andalonginginhereyesthatnearlymatchesmine.
“Holyshit,Lydia,doyoulike—”
“I’mgoingtogetmorebeer.”ShecutsmeoffwithalookthatsaysDropitbeforedisappearingintothecrowd.
Interesting.MaybeI’mnottheonlyqueergirlwithahopelesscrushtonight.
AnikaandDrewareoffinthecorner,andassoonwenoticeoneanother,theystartbeckoningmeover.I’mmovingthroughthecrowd,gettingjostledhereandthere.WhenI’malmosttothem,Idoalittlehalfwavethingingreetingattheexactmomentsomekidstepsback,sendingwhat’sleftofmybeersloshingalloverusboth.
“Whatthehell!”heshouts,turningaroundlikeheintendstomaulme…whichistheexactsecondahandwrapsaroundmywaistandpullsmebackward.
“Sorry,Travis,”Rubycallsoverhershoulder,leadingusaway.“Shedidn’tmeanit.”
Thekid,Travis,apparently,shakeshishead,pickingathisbeer-soakedshirtandwringingitout.
“Youcame!”Rubyshoutsoverthedinofthemusic,pullingmetotheoppositecornerofthedancefloor.Icantellrightawayshe’sdrunk,butItrytoignoreitbecauseshelookssolegitimatelyhappytoseeme.IglanceoveratAnikaandDrew,whogivemetwinpuzzledexpressions,andmouthaquickapology.
“IguessIwasbored,”Ishoutback,andthesongswitches,thebeatthrobbingagainstthedancefloor.RubysmilessobigandwideIalmostdrowninit.Iamsoscrewed,soabsolutelylostinthisgirlinfrontofme,thisgirlwho’sgrinninglikeseeingmeisthebestthingthathappenedtoherallday.
Rubycatchesherlonghairinherhands,pullingituptothetopofherheadandlettingitcascadedownoverhershouldersasshestartstodance.Thanksforthat,universe.I’mdefinitelyneverforgettingthismomentforaslongasIlive.
“Ilovethissong!”sheshouts,movingevencloseruntilshe’sbrushingupagainstmewitheverymove.Istandstillandawkward,notsurewhattherulesareinthissituation,ifthisperformanceisforme…orforeveryoneelse.
“Dancewithme,”shewhispersinmyear,spinningmearoundsoshe’sbehindme,andafull-bodyblushshootsfiredownmyskin.
Sheputsherhandsonmyhips,pushingandpullingmeuntilIfindtherhythm,herbodypressedagainstmyback,herbreathonmyshoulderasshesingsalong.Sheslidesherfingersfrommyhiptomyhandwithoutwarning,interlacingourfingersandthenrunningthemacrossmystomach.Mybreathcatchesasshedipsthemalittlelower,justbeneaththewaistbandofLydia’stoo-tightpants,beforetwirlingmearoundtofaceher.Ilosethebeatthen,laughingasshebitesherlip.Shereleasesmyhand,grazingherfingersupmysidesandthendownmyneck,herhandseverywhereandnowhereuntilit’sjustusonthedancefloor,herlegslottedbetweenmineasthewholeworldfallsaway.
“Iknowyoulikeme,”shewhispersintomyear.AndI…Idon’tknowwhattodo.Shepullsmyhandsaroundherneckanddipsherheadontomyshoulder,aflickofhertongueagainstmyskinbeforeshepullsback,wipingherliplikeitwasjustastraydropofbeer.Iamlost,utterly,inthefeelofherbodyundermyfingertips…
Andthenpeoplestartwhoopingandcatcalling,andIrealizejusthowmanyofthelacrosseboysarewatching,cheeringandclappingatthespectacleofus.Ihateit.
Rubyisstilldancing,revelingintheattentionandnotnoticingI’velostthebeat.AndthenTylercomesupbehindher,turningourtwosomeintoathreesome,andIstopdancingaltogether.Thebeerchurnsinmystomach,drowningallthebutterfliesashishandstouchherskin.
TylergrabsRuby’shipsandpullshertowardhim.Shelaughs,nevermissingabeat,andIdartoffthedancefloorandupthestairs,likesomegirlinahorrormovie,notknowingwhereI’mgoingbutjustneedingtogetaway.Fittingforthisnightmarescenario.Ifindanemptyroomandruntothewindow,flingingitopenandgulpingdownthecoolnightair.
Ahandcomesupandrubsmyback,andIjump,mystupidhopelessbrainprayingit’sRuby.Butit’snot.It’sAnikastandingthere,withDrewbehindhershootingmeaknowingglance.
“It’sokay,it’sokay,”Anikasays,andIdon’tevenrealizeI’mcryinguntilshepullsmeintoahug.
“Ijust,Idon’tknow.”Isniffleintohershoulder.“Idon’tgetit.Ithoughtshelikedme.”
“She’samess,Morgan,”Drewsays,squeezingmyshoulderwithasympatheticlook.
“Butwhatdoesshewant?”Iwhine,likethey’regoingtoknow.Idon’teventhinksheknows.“IsaidIwouldneverdothisagain—fallforthegirlwho’llmostscrewwithmyhead.AndIdid—like,textbook.Whatiswrongwithme?”
“Hey,hey,stop,”Anikasays.“There’snothingwrongwithyou.Whydon’twegetoutofhere?We’remeetingtherestofthegangatthediner.Comewithus.”
“IdraggedAllieandLydiaherejustsoIcouldseeRuby.”Ilaugh,shortandbitter.“Ican’tditchthem.”
“Really?”Drewasks,lookinghesitanttoleaveme.“I’msurethey’llunderstand.”
“Ican’t.”Idon’twanttoadmitthatatinypartofmeisstillhopingRubywillmagicallyappearandapologize.
AnikaandDrewexchangealook.“Iknowwearen’tbestfriendsoranything,”shesays.“ButevenIcantellhowmuchthisisupsettingyou.Justcomewithus,please?We’lltalkitoutoverbadfoodandworselighting.Aaron’scomingtoo.Hecangofullpeercounseloronyou.”
Ishakemyhead.“Ijustneedaminutetopullmyselftogether.Butgo,havefun.I’mgood,Iswear.”
Anikapullsmeintoanawkwardhug.“Okay,well,textusifyouneedus.”
“Willdo,”Isay,andIforceoutasmile.
Itturnsout“aminute”wasapoorestimation.Itakemorelikefifteen,actually,sittingonthefloor,calmingdownmystomach,nursingmywhiplashedlibido,andtryingreallyhardnottocryoverthefactthatthemostintenseromanticexperienceofmylifemayhavejustbeenashowRubywasputtingonforherbangbuddy,Tyler,andhisfriends.
ThehopelesslynaivepartofmestillhopesthatI’mwrongandthatRubynevercameupbecauseshe’sstilldownstairslookingforme.MaybeshealreadytoldTyleroff,butIhavenoideabecauseshecan’tfindmewhileI’mupherepoutinginsteadoffightingforthegirlIwant.
Iscrapemyegooffthefloorandheaddown,takingadeepbreathasIturnthecorner,onlytoimmediatelybumpintoLydia.
“Thereyouare!”Shelookspissed.“I’vebeenlookingeverywhereforyou!”
“What’sgoingon?”
Shelinksherarmaroundmineandpulls.“We’releaving.Now.Allie’sinthecarsobbingherbrainsout.”
“Why?Whathappened?”Isweartogod,ifanyoftheseboystouchedherorhurtherinanyway,I’ll—
“Thathappened,”shesays,pointingbehindus.
IturnmyheadjustintimetoseeTylerdipRubyonthedancefloor,nuzzlingherneckandkissingherbehindherear.Herheadturnsashepullsherup,hersleepyeyesmeetingmine,wideningjustabitbeforesqueezingshutwhenhekissesthecornerofhermouth.
“Thatfuckingasshole,”Lydiasays,glaringatTylerasshepullsmeoutthedoor.“LeadingAllieonlikethat,makingherthinkitwasmorethanitwas.”
“Yeah,”Iwhisper.“Thatasshole.”23
RUBY
IwakeupthenextdayinTyler’sbed,myheadpounding,myclothesfromlastnightstickingtomeinuncomfortableways.Shit.IscantheroomwithsluggisheyesandrunthemathonwhetherIcanescapeoutthewindowwithouthimnoticing,whichiswhenIrealizehe’snotevenhere.
Andthenitallcomesrushingback,thedancing,Morgan,thelookonherfacewhenshesawTylerandme.Shit,shit,doubleshit.
Footstepsatthedoorhavemescrunchingmyeyesshutandfeigningsleep,butIopenoneatthesoundofacupbeingsetdownonthenightstandandthescentofcoffeewaftingintomynose.
“Iknowyou’reawake,”Tylersays,crouchingdownnearthebedandpushingmyhairoutofmyfacewithalevelofaffectionwedon’ttypicallyshare.
“Morning,”Isaywithalittlewince.
“Youstayedthenight.”Hehandsmethemug.“Thismustbesomekindofarecord.Shouldwealertthemedia?”
Isipmycoffee,eyeinghim.“Yeah,sorryaboutthat.Didn’tmeantobreakprotocol.”
“No,itwasniceforonce,”hesays,standinguptogrababottleofAdviloffhisdeskandtossitontothebedbesideme.“Oritwouldhavebeenniceifyouweren’tcryinghalfthenight.”
“Um,”Isay,mystomachsinking,becauseIdon’trememberthatpart.“Ihadwaytoomuchtodrinklastnight.”
“Inoticed.”
Ishiftuncomfortably,wrappingtheblanketalittletighteraroundmyself.“Didwe,youknow?”
Helooksabsolutelyhorrified.“Jesus,Ruby.DoyoureallythinkI’dtrytohookupwithyouwhenyouwerethatdrunk?”
Ilookaway,becausethetruthis,Idon’treallyknowhimallthatwell.Wedon’ttalkmuchoutsideofthewholequick-releasethingwe’vehadgoingforthelastyearortheoccasionaltextorhighfiveinhomeroom.
“Wow.”Tylerpullssomeshortsonoverhisboxerbriefs.“Onthatnote,I’mgoingtothegym.Whydon’tyouslinkoutlikenormalbeforeIgetback?We’llpretendlastnightneverhappened.”Helooksactuallywoundedrightnow,andIhatethis.IhatethatI’mhurtingeveryonewhoseemstohaveevenamodicumofconcernforme.
I’mthefuckingworst.
“I’msorry,”Isay,“butIhadtoask.Noteveryoneis—”
“Iwouldneverdoanythingwithoutyourconsent.”Helooksserious.“Andlastnight,youwereinnoshapetogiveit.”
Ilookdownagain.
“Youdon’trememberanything,doyou?”heasks.“Christ,howmuchdidyoudrink?”
“Alot,”Isay.EnoughtodrowneveryconflictingthoughtIhadinmyhead,oratleasttryto.“Fillmein?Please?”
Hesighs,staringatmeforasecondbeforesittingonthebed.“Well,youbasicallydry-humpedthatgirlMorganinthemiddleofmylivingroom.”
“Irememberthatpart,”Isay,becausethat’snotsomethingIwillever,everforget.
“Andthenwestarteddancing,whichpissedoffAllieandconfusedtheshitoutofme.”
“AllieMarcetti?Shewashere?”
“Yeah,Ididn’tevenknow.We’vebeenkindofhookingupsinceyoudroppedme.Ilikeherandall,butshe’snotyou.Whenyoudancedwithmelastnight,Ithoughtwewerebackinthegameorwhatever.UntilIrealizedhowdrunkyouwerewhenyoustartedbawlingonthedancefloorafterIkissedyou.”
Iwince.“Sorryaboutthat.”
“Yeah,thatwasnotgreatformyegoormyreputation,”hesays,butwithenoughteasinginhisvoicethatIknowhe’snotmad.Atleastnotaboutthatpart.
“Ibroughtyouuphereandtriedtoputyoutobed,butyouwerereallyupset.Iendedupstayingwithyouuntilyoufinallyfellasleep,butbytheneveryoneelsewasreallydrunk,andIgotworriedsomeonemightcomeinherewhileyouwerepassedout,so…”Hegesturestoasleepingbagandpillowonthefloor.“Idecidedtohangclose.”
Ilookaway.ShowingweaknesstoTylerandhimactuallybeingcoolaboutitsomehowmakesmefeelevenmorevulnerable,likemaybeIlostalittleskinwhenhewaspeelingbackthelayers.
“Listen,Ruby,wedefinitelydon’thavetobefuckbuddiesorwhateveryouwanttocallitanymore,butyoudon’thavetoshutmeouteither.Idon’tmindbeingyourfriend.I’dactuallylikethat.”
Mystartledeyesmeethis,surethisisjustaplottokeepmeclose,butIfindonlysincerityinthem.“Really?”
“Really.Itsucksalittle,becauseyou’rereallyhotandwe’vehadalotoffuntogether,butlastnight…Look,Idon’tthinkI’mtheoneyouwant,andbeingfriendswouldn’tbetheworst.That’sallI’msaying.Ifyoueverwanttotalkaboutwhathadyoucryingyourbrainsoutlastnight,I’mhere.”
Iscratchthebackofmyneck.“Thanks,I’llthinkaboutit,”Isay,becauseIhaveareallygoodideawhatIwascryingaboutlastnight,butI’mnotreadytosharethatwithanyoneyet.
Exceptmaybeher.
???
MyhairisstillwetwhenIgettoherapartmentandringthebuzzer.Itriedpullingitintoamessybun,butthatjustleftthebackofmyT-shirt—aborrowedoneofTyler’sthatI’veknottedupabovemyhipaftermyshower—soakedfornoreason.
Everlyhastextedmeaboutadozentimesthismorning,andI’msupposedtomeetupwithherinanhourandahalftohelpherpickthroughsomephotosforherseniorproject.ButIcan’tshakethissenseofdoominmychesteverytimeIthinkofMorgan,likeIruineditallbeforeIfiguredoutwhatitevenwas.Andit’sthatfeelingthathasmestandingonherporchrightnow.
Ihitherbuzzerasecondtime,andfinallytherearefootstepsontheothersideofthedoor.Iwaveatthepeephole,figuringsomeone’sstaringatme.Idon’tknowifit’sherorDylan,butjudgingbytheamountoftimethatpasseswiththedoornotopening,I’mguessingit’sher.
“Hey,”Isaytothestill-shutdoor.“Canwetalk?”
Alockclicks,andthedoorcracksopen.Shedoesn’tundothechain.
“Hey,Ruby,”shesaysslowly,eyeingmewarily.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“CanIcomein?”
“Why?Thegroupproject’sover,”shesays,repeatingmywordsfromyesterday.
“Ithoughtmaybewecouldstudy,”Isay,echoinghersrightbackwithahopefulsmile.Shejuststares.“Ornot?”
“Whatdoyouwant,Ruby?”Hervoiceishard.
Ibitemylip.“Ijustwanttotalk.”
Sheclosesthedoorjustenoughtoslidethechainoff,andshamecreepsupmyspine—notforlikingher,thistime,butforlettingherdown.Again.“What’stheretosay?”
“NothinghappenedbetweenmeandTylerlastnight,Ipromise.”
Sheswingsthedooropenwiderbutstilldoesn’tletmein.“WhywouldIcarewhathappensbetweenyouandTyler?”
“Youknowwhy.”
Shenarrowshereyes.“DoI?”
“Icango,ifyouwant,”Isay,turningtoleave,caughtbetweenthesuddenpanicthatIreadeverythingwrongandthesuddenpanicthatIdidn’t.
Eitherway,thisisn’tworking.
“Iguessyoucancomein,sinceyoudroveallthisway,”shesays,likeherapartmentisn’tsmackinthemiddleoftown.
I’mfourstepsfromthesafetyofmycar,fourstepsfrommaintainingthestatusquo,fourstepsfromlyinglowandgettingthrough…butI’veneverspunaroundsofastinmylife.
Morganholdsthedooropenforhalfasecond,givingitagoodshovesoIhavetimetocatchitaftershedisappearsinside.Ifindhersittinginthelivingroom,theTVonmute.She’sgotaperfectviewoftheparkinglotthroughhercurtains,whichmeansshedefinitelysawmepullin.Isthatbetterorworse?Like,shehesitated,butalso,sheultimatelyunlockedthedoor.
Morganstaresatmeexpectantly,andIdon’tknowwhattosay.Idon’tknowwhyI’mhere,beyondthefactthatIfeeltotallyguiltyaboutlastnight,eventhoughItechnicallyhavenoreasonto.Butalso,Ihavealotofreasonsto.Myheartjumpsintomythroat.
“Itakeitnopageanttoday?”sheasks,flickingthroughchannelsonthestill-mutedTV.
“No,nottoday.”Icanhardlybelieveshe’seventalkingtome.“IhavetomeetEverlyinalittlewhile,though.”
“Oh,”shesaysnoncommittally,nottakinghereyesofftheTV.“Iguessthatdoesn’tleavemuchtimeforstudying,then.Weshouldgetstarted.”
“Ididn’treallycomeheretostudy.”Imovetothecoffeetable,blockingherviewoftheTV.“Butyouknowthat.”Ineedhertolookatme,IneedhertoseehowsorryIamforlastnight.IneedhertofeelwhatIcan’tsay.
Morganjustsighsandlooksaway.“Whatdoyouwant,Ruby?”
“Idon’tknow,”Isay,answeringhonestly.Whatdootherpeoplesayinmomentslikethis?Idon’tgetcrushes.Idon’tdorelationships.Especiallynotwithgirls.Thisisunchartedterritoryformorereasonsthanone.
Morganstandsup.“Cool,well,thanksforstoppingby,then.”
Iscootforwardonthetable,reachingforherhandandtrappingherlegsbetweenmine.Morganhesitates,searchingmyeyes,andthensighs.“Ican’tplaythesegameswithyouanymore.Notafterlastnight.”
“I’msorry,”Isay.“I’msosorry.Ishouldneverhave—”
“Ifeltgross.”
“Oh,”Isay.Idropherhandandslideback…because“gross”wastheoppositeofhowIfelt.Ilikeddancingwithher.Morethanlikedit,even.
“Howcouldyoudothattome?YouobviouslyknowhowIfeelaboutyou.Youevensaidit!”Sheshakesherheadanddropsbackontothecouchwithcrossedarms.“AndthenyoustillusedmetogetTyler’sattention?That’sscrewedup,Ruby!”
“Wait,what?”BecauseIdidn’t.Ididn’t.ImaynothaveknownwhatIwasdoing,butitdefinitelywasn’tthat.
“Thiswholetime,wereyoujustlike,Oh,lookatthispatheticgirlwhohasacrushonme.IbetIcanusethattomyadvant—”
Icutherwordsoffwithakiss,tryingtoshowherwhatIfeel,tryingtopoureverythingIcan’tsayintoherlipsonmine,soshecanfinallyunderstand.ButI’vebarelystartedwhenherhandsareonmyshoulders,shovingmeaway.
“Whatareyoudoing?”sheshouts.
“Ithought…”Itrailoff.Idon’tknowwhatIthought.Ididn’tthink,actually.And,ohno,ohno.Hereyeswellwithtearsbeforesherunsdownthehallandslamsthedoor.
Isitthereforasecond,tryingtofigureoutwhattodoandhowIreadallofthissowrong,andthenIfollowher,knockingsoftlyonherdoor.
“Goaway,Ruby,”shesays,andIcantellshe’sstillcrying.
Shit.
Ireachforthehandlebutstopmyself,rememberingmyconversationwithTylerearlieraboutconsent.Iturnaroundinstead,slidingdownthedoorwithmybackagainstit.Istretchmylegsout,andIpickatmynailpolish.Isuckatfeelings.Isuckevenmoreattalkingaboutthem.Whywon’tsheletmejustshowher?“Morgan—”
“Whyareyoustillhere?Go!”
Itipmyheadbackagainstthewood.“Iwillifyouwantmeto.ButIreallydon’twantto.”
“Whatdoyouwant?”sheasks,hervoicemorefrustratedthanI’veeverheard.
Itakeadeepbreathandcutopenthatlittleboxoffeelingsinsideme.Ifsheneedsmetobleedforher,I’llbleed.“I’venever…TylerandIusedtohookuporwhatever,butIdon’t…”Isigh,alreadyfrustratedwithmyself.“Imean,Idon’tworryabouthimwhenhe’snotaroundoranything.Butyou?AllthetimeIwanttoknowwhatyou’rethinking.AllthetimeIwanttobearoundyou.Everyotherthoughtinmyheadisaboutyounow!AndsometimesIhateit.AndothertimesIlikeit.Toomuch.AndIdon’tknowwhatIwant,Idon’t,butIdoknowthatIdon’twanttobetheonetohurtyou.Ididn’tdowhatyouthinkIdidlastnight.Iwouldn’t.I—”
Thedoorclicksopen,andIsprawlbackwardontoherbedroomfloor.
SheletsoutahuffthatcouldmaybeturnintoalaughifIplaymycardsright.Butit’sgonebeforeI’mevenupoffthefloor.
“Explainthatlastpart,”shesays,crawlingontoherbedandwipingathereyes.
“IswearIdidn’tuseyou.AndI’msorryformakingyoufeellikethat.Itwasn’tmyintention,Ipromise.Ihadwaytoomuchtodrink,andyouweretherelookingso…”Ishakemyhead.
Morganscrunchesherforehead,waiting.
“Sogood.”Ilookaway,myneckandearsgoingcrimson.
“ThenwhydidyoudancewithTyler?”
“Idon’tknow!Everythinggotsojumbledup!”
“Whydidyoukissmejustnow?”
“Iwantedtoshowyou!”Isay.“Icanbarelyeventalkrightaroundyou.Youmesswithmyheadsomuch.”
“Imesswithyourhead?”
“Notlike…Thatcameoutwrong.Letmeshowyou,”Iplead,takingastepcloser.Maybeanotherkiss,abetterkiss,willfixthis.Itakeanotherstep,andanother,untilI’mrightinfrontofher.“CanIkissyouagain?”Ileandownsoourfacesareonlyinchesapart.
“Why?”sheasks,andIfeelthewordonmyeyelashesasmyhearttapsIdon’tknow,butIwanttoagainstmyribs.
Itipherfaceupuntilournosestouch,smilingathershakyexhale,andsay,“Ijustwanttotrysomething.”
Morganjerksherheadbackatmywords,herentirebodyfollowingsuitasshescramblesawayandclimbsoffthebed.“Youneedtogo.Now,”shesays,hervoicecold.
Myhazysmileisreplacedbyalookofconfusion.“What?Why?Morgan—”
Butshe’salreadymarchingoutofherroomandtothefrontdoor,holdingitwideopenbythetimeIgetthere.Andthistime,thistimeIcantellshemeansit.
“Morgan—”
“I’mnotsomethingtotry.I’mnotyourlittleexperiment.Stayawayfromme,Ruby.Okay?Thisisamistake.”
Idon’tevenhaveachancetorespondbeforesheslamsthedoorinmyface.24
MORGAN
“Shecalledyouanexperiment?”Anikaallbutshrieksmidbiteintoherchickentender.
We’reallatthediner—mightaswellcallitanunofficialPrideClubmeetingatthispoint—andDrewandAnikahavebeenniceenoughnottopryaboutwhyIshowedupsnifflingandtearstained,eventhoughI’msuretheycanguessafterlastnight.
It’stakenmeanhourtoworkupthecouragetofilleveryoneelsein.
“Seriously?”Drewasks.“Thatseemsridiculousevenforher.”
“Shedidn’tusetheword,butthatwasthegist.Shesaidshewantedto‘trysomething’andthenwenttokissme.”Igrabasoggyfrenchfry.“AfterseeingherandTylerlastnight,evenifshesaysnothinghappened…”
“Yeah,shecango‘trysomething’withsomeoneelse,”Anikasays.
“Dude,whatifitjustcameoutwrong?”Aaronasks,andIsnapmyheadtowardhim.
“You’restandingupforher?”
“What,becauseshe’syourneighbor,you’regoingtotakehersidenow?”Drewsnorts.
“You’reherneighbor?”Ipracticallyshriek.Sure,I’veneverbeentoAaron’shouse,butstill,thisfeelslikecrucialinformation.
“Yep,”hesays,poppingtheplikeit’snobigdeal.“Andlook,ifI’mstickingupforher,it’sonlyalittle.I’mjustsaying,Ididalotofmessed-upthingswhenIwasworkingthroughmyidentitystufftoo.Iwasclumsyashellaboutit.I’mnotsayingshe’snotamegabitchorthatyouhavetobetheonetoputupwithit,butitsoundslikeshe’slegitimatelyfloundering.Andhermomisjust…”
“What?”Iask.Ruby’smotherhasalwaysbeenabitofaquestionmarktome.
Aaronlooksuncomfortable.“Idon’twanttoseemlikeI’mtalkingshit,butyouhearalotwhenyou’relivingasclosetogetherasweare.Let’sjustsayourupbringingscouldn’tbemoredifferent.Wewereactuallyreallycloseonce,butwhenIcameoutastrans,hermomstoppedlettingmeover.Shedidn’twant‘thatstuff’aroundherkid.”
“Wow,”Brennansays.
“Theyhaveaweirdrelationship.Hermom’ssupercontrollingandclosed-minded.Idon’tknowwhatRuby’sdoing,butifsheispartofourteam,itcan’tbeeasyinthathouse.I’msurethat’sconstantlyinherhead.”
“Wow,”Drewsays.
Aaronslidesthechickentendersclosertome.“Noteverybody’sjourneyfromAtoBcanbeasclear-cutasyourswas,Morgan.”
“Clear-cut?”Isnap.“Ihadtoswitchschoolsinthemiddleofmysenioryear!Noneofmyoldfriendswilltalktome!Ican’tevenruntrackrightnow!ItookachanceonowningwhoIam,andIcouldloseeverythingforit.Howcanyoupossiblysayitwaseasy!”
“Ididn’tsayitwaseasy,”Aaronsays.“Isaiditwasclear-cut.Anditwas,becauseyouknowwhoyouareandwhatyouwant.Youhaveparentswhoarebehindyou,abrotherwholetsyoustaywithhim,and”—hegesturesaroundthetable—“newfriendswhowillalwayshaveyourback.Igotreallyluckytoo;myparentsarethemostsupportiveandopen-mindedpeopleintheuniverse!WhenItoldthemIwaschangingmynametoAaronwithanA,mymomliterallyorderedabunchofblanketsandornamentsandeverythingshecouldfindwiththenewspelling.Sheevenwantedtohaveoneofthosestupidgenderrevealpartiestoannounceittotheextendedfamily—youknow,theoneswherealltheblueballoonsshootout?Luckily,Isquashedit.”
“God,Iloveyourmom,”Brennansays.
“Metoo,”hesays.“Butweneedtorememberthatnoteverybodyhasthat,especiallynotfromthejump.Imean,ourend-of-the-yearPrideClubprojectisliterallyafoodandclothingdrivebecausesomanykidsgetkickedoutoftheirhousesforthisshit.”
Icrossmyarms.“WhydoIsuddenlyfeellikeI’mtheonebeingjudgedhere?”
“You’renot,”Aaronsays.“AllI’msayingis,ifyoucareabouther,andshe’sworthittoyou,cuthersomeslack.ThisisthefirstI’veeverheardofherhavinganinterestinanybodybutguys,andI’mprettypluggedintotherumormillatthepark.”
“Yeah,andshe’scertainlyhadplentyofinterestinguys,”Anikasnarks.“Norumorsneededonthatfront.”
Aaronraisesaneyebrow.“Whatwe’renotgoingtodoisslut-shameher.”
“Whatareyou,like,herprotectornow?”Anikasnorts.“She’smessingwithMorgan’shead!”
Ifrown,myheartsinkingjustalittlebitmore.BecauseeventhoughI’mreallypissedatRuby,hearingAnikatalkcrapaboutherisn’thelping.
“Howlonghaveyouallknownher?”Iask,tryingtochangethesubject.
“Sincekindergarten,”Brennansays.
Drewtiltshishead.“Same,Ithink.”
“Uh,basicallysincebirth,”Aaronsays.“Ourparentsmovedintotheparkatthesametime.”
“Sincethirdgrade,”Anikasays.
“Andshe’sreallynevershownanyinterestinagirlbefore?”
Aaronshrugs.“NotthatIknowof.Butthenagain,shedoesn’treallydateguyseither.”
“Yeah,shejusthooksupwiththem.”Anikagrimaces.“Alot.”
“Willyoucutitout?”Aaronasks.“Please?”
“Sorry,”shesays,lookingproperlyadmonished.“You’reright.I’mbeinganass.I’mjustpissedforMorgan.”
“Thiswassupposedtobemyfreshstart.”Isigh,droppingmyheadintomyhands.“Andinsteadit’sjusttheexactsamethingalloveragain.Fallingforyetanothergirlwhodoesn’tknowwhatshewants.Goodjob,Morgan.”
“Wait,fallingforher?Likefallingforherfallingforher?”Brennanasks,hiseyebrowsscrunchingtogether.
Ipeekupovermyhands.“Whyisthismylife?”
“Becauseyou’resupercute,”DrewsayswithalittlesmirkwhenIlookupathim.“Oh,woeisMorgan.Allthegirlswanttokissyou,eventheoneswethoughtwerestraight.You’llprobablyfindAnikaonyourporchnext,bangingonyourdoor.”
Anikapuncheshimonthearm,andtheneverybodystartslaughing.EvenIdo,forasec,beforethedreadofWhat’sitgoingtobelikeseeingheratschoolMonday?comesback.Atleasttheprojectisover,soIcanmovemyseatbacknexttoAllieandLydia.Butnowthatherlipshavebeenonmylips…
“EarthtoMorgan,”Anikasays,flingingafryatme.
“Sorry.”Ifakeasmile.“IthinkI’mgoingtogoforarun,actually.”Itosssomemoneyonthetableandslideoutofthebooth,gratefulthatmydailyattireconsistsofrunninggearandlittleelse.
“Butthere’sstillfood!”Drewsays.
“Ineedtoworkthisoutofmysystem,youknow?I’llfeelbetterafter.”
“Areyousure?”Aaronasks.“Ididn’tpissyouoffwithmytruthbombs,didI?Iknowsometimestheydon’tland.”
“No,we’regood.Youmadeasolidpoint.Ijustdon’tknowhowtodealwithityet.”
Henudgesmewithhiselbowandgivesmeareassuringsmile.“Hopefully,you’llfigurethatoutonyourrun.”
“Yeah.”Ihopesotoo.
???
Myfeethitthepavement,theirsteadyrhythmagainsttheasphaltasfamiliarasmyownheartbeat.Istartoffslow,warmingupmyhipuntiltheendorphinssqueezeouttheache,andthenIpushmyselfharderandfasterthroughthetown,tryingtoforgetthetingleofherlipsonmine,andhowIletmyselffeelthem,justforasecond,beforeIpushedheraway.
Irununtilthebusinessesgivewaytohouses,whichgivewaytotrees,andthenIdartintothewoods,cuttingthroughwhatlookstobeapath.Ican’ttellifitwasmadebyadeerorarunnerormaybe,hopefully,both.
Iperformbestonthetrack—alotofusdo—butthere’sjustsomethingaboutracingthroughthetrees,branchesflyingpast,squirrelsjumping,andsnakesslitheringoutofmyway.Nothingelsemattersexceptmyfeetandmybodyandthedirtthatholdsmeup,asIstrikeandpushoff,mypacequickeninguntilfinallytheworldfadesaway,ablurofnothingbutadrenaline,endorphins,andpeace.Ilingerthere,allthoughtschasedout,justabodyinmotionstayinginmotion,swimminginthechemicalsinmybrain.
Butthenmyleftfootsnagsaroot,whichsendsmesprawlingontotheground.MyheadphonesflyoffasIshiftmyfalltosavemyankle,smashingmycheekontoarockasIcometoahaltinabigpileofleaves.
“Ouch.”Igrunt,slowlysittinguptoassessthedamage.Myheadalreadyhurts,andI’mprettysuremycheekisbleeding,butI’mmoreworriedaboutmyankle.Islidemyfootupandtouchitgingerly.It’sgoingtobruise,definitely,butnothingseemsbroken.Amildsprainatworst.Ifloptotheground,smiling.I’verunwithmuchworse.ThisiswhytheuniverseinventedKTTapeandiceandibuprofen.Finally,somethingIactuallyknowhowtohandle.
It’snearlydarkbythetimeIlimpallthewayhome,myanklescreamingastheblooddriesonmycheek.IfindanotefromDylansayingthathewenttoaconcertatabarcalledtheScreechingWeaselinthenexttownover,andthatheleftmemoneyforpizzaintheusualspot.
Theusualspotisunderthebreadontopofthestove,because“breadhidesdough,”apparently.Butwhyhethinksheneedstoleavecrypticnotesandhidecashisbeyondme.Ifaburglarbrokein,they’dprobablybealotmorelikelytostealhisgiantTVandgamingsystemsthantotrytopuzzleoutthecluesandhuntfortwentybucks.
Ireachintothefreezerandstop,myhandspausingatthebagoffrozenpeas.
Nope.Notgoingthere.
Ishovethemoutofthewayandgrabmyfavoriteicepackinstead,beforeheadingtothebathroom.Ineedaquickshower,someantisepticformycheek,andsleep.
Tomorrowwillbebetter.Ithastobe.25
RUBY
I’mdrunkagain.Ididn’tmeantobedrunk.Especiallynottwonightsinarow.ButIam.Sodrunk.Drunkerthandrunk.Allofthedrunk.Verywickedlydrunk.
“Youknowyou’resayingthatoutloud,”Everlysays,pokingmewithherfoot.Wespentthelastfewhourspickingoutphotosforherseniorportfolioproject,whichshe’scallingHeartEyes.She’sbeensnappingpicturesofpeoplewhenthey’renotpayingattention,specificallywhenthey’relookingatsomeoneshethinkstheycareabout.Apparently,it’snotaninvasionofprivacyaslongasshedoesitinpublic.Great.She’smostlygotagoodmixofparentslookingattheirchildren,peoplelookingatthepeoplethey’redatingormarriedto…andthenthere’sme.FuckinghearteyesfordaysoverMorganMatthews.NotthatEverlyknowsthat.
She’scurledupbehindhernow-officialboyfriend,Marcus,herchinrestingonhisshoulderasheplaysXboxwithhisheadsetonandoccasionallytakesaswigofwhiskey.Livingtheheterodream,Iguess,whileIsithere,lonelyanddrunk.Drunk.Dunk.Dink.Dank.
Irolloveronmybackandstareatthesky.Theceiling.Whateveryoucallit.Idon’tevenknow.Ijustlookupandtrytothinkaboutanythingelse.Becausesomehow,aroundhourtwo,Everlyconvincedmetoletherputmypictureinhershowcase.ShestillthinksIwaslookingatTyler.I’dbelaughingifIdidn’tfeelsomuchlikecrying.
SohereIam.Onherfloor.TryingtoforgetMorgan’ssoftlipsandangryface.Andthefactthatphotographicevidenceexistsofhowshemakesmefeel.
“Wait,whoselips?”Everlyasks.
Shit,amIstilltalkingoutloud?Ireachoutmyhand,takingthebottlefromwhereitrestsonMarcus’ship,andgulpdownsomemore,wishingthealcoholcouldburneverylastthoughtoutofmyskull.
“Morganwho?MorganMatthews?”Everlyasks,sittingupalittlestraighter,whichjostlesMarcus.
“Damn,baby,”hesays.“Youmadememissmyshot.”Buthesmileswhenshekisseshistemplebeforecrawlingovertositbesideme.
Iturnmyheadawayfromher,butsheturnsitback.
“MorganMatthews?Really?That’swhohasyoushowinguponmyporchwithtwobottlesofwhiskey?IthoughtthiswasaboutTyler!Ruby,Morganisagirl.”
Itakeanotherswig.“Don’tIfriggin’knowit,”Isay,curlingawayfromheragain,becauseIwillnotgetemotionaloverthis.Ican’t.
“Ohmygod,”shesayssoftly.“Thatpicture…”Everlytriestopullmetowardheragain,butIrefuse,jerkingmyshoulderawayandstaggeringtomyfeet.“Wereyoulookingather?”
“No,it’s…Forgetaboutit,”Imumble.
“Ruby,it’scool.Iwasjustsurprised.Don’t—”
“Igottagetoutofhere,”Isay,pickingupthestill-unopenedsecondbottleofboozeandmykeysfromthecoffeetable.
“Uh,no,”shesays,snatchingthekeysoutofmyhand.“You’redefinitelynotdrivinganywhere.”
“I’mfine.”Ireachforthemagain,butsheshovestheminherpocket.
“Stop.You’renotthinkingstraightrightnow.”
Ilaugh,andwhenshelooksconfused,Iadd,“Punintended?”
“Ohmygod,”shehuffs,butIdon’theartherest.Istompupthestairsandoutthefrontdoorofhersplit-levelranch.Unfortunately,she’srightbehindme.
“Ruby,stop.”Shedartsforwardandcutsinfrontofme,mirroringmewhenItrytosidestepher.Damnhersoberreflexes.Everlydoesn’tdrink.Itusedtoannoytheshitoutofmeuntilshetoldmeitwasbecausebothherparentsareinrecovery.She’sscaredifshestarts,she’llneverstop.Howresponsible,Ithink,untwistingthecaponthebottle.
“Whatdoyouwantfromme,Ev?”
“I’vebeenyourbestfriendforsevenyears.Don’tyouthinkit’sfinallytimetoletmein?”
“Youarein,”Ishout,raisingmyhandsandthenslappingthemdowntomysides.“Youknoweverythingthereistoknowaboutmyshittylife.Whatelsedoyouwant?”
“Oh,Idon’tknow.Hypothetically,let’sjustsayyouhadacrushonthenewgirl.Itwouldbeniceifwecouldtalkaboutthat.Youknow,likebestfriends?Insteadofyoucomingoverandgettingallangstyandshit-facedinmybasement.Ifyou’reafraidI’mweirdedoutorsomething,I’mnot.”
“Idon’thaveacrushonher,”Isay,whichistechnicallynotalie.She’smorethanacrush,she’sagoddamn…Idon’tevenknow.Achair-stealing,car-hitting,loudmouthedliferuiner.Itakeanotherswig.
“Fine.”Everlysighs.“Butifyoudidoreverdointhefuture,I’mhereforyou.”
“It’sfine.I’mfine.Idon’tneedyoutobe‘here’formeorwhatever.YouandTylerandeveryoneelsecanjusttakeallofthispityandconcernandthrowitrightinthetrash,becauseIdon’tneedit!”Ipunctuatemywordswithatiltofthebottle.“Doyouhearme?Idon’tneedanything!”
Everlystepsforward,wrappingherarmsaroundmesotightthatIalmostlosemybalance.Iwillnotcry.I.Will.Not.Cry.
“Shh,it’sokay,”shesays.
IburymyheadinhershoulderasMarcusopensthefrontdoor.Thelightfrominsidethehousespillsoutontothedriveway,swallowinguswhole.“Yougood?”hecallsout.
Istepbackintotheshadowsandwipeatmyeyes.“I’mgoing,”Isayquietly.“Butthanks.”
“Comeinside,”Everlysays.
Ishakemyheadbutholdthewhiskeybottleouttoher.“Takethisaway,andpleaseletmego.I’mgonnawalkitoff.”
“Letmedriveyouhomeatleast.It’sliketwomiles.”
“We’lltalktomorroworsomething,okay?Ijustwanttowalk.”
Shelooksunsurebutdoesn’tmovetostopme.AndIwonder,isthiswhatcomingoutfeelslike?Isitalwaysthisbadanddrunkandconfusing?Doesitstillcountifyoutrytotakeitback?
I’mbarelytotheendofEverly’sstreetwhenIstarttogetmad.MadthatMorganmakesmefeelthesethings.MadthatshemakesmequestionthingsthatIthoughtIknewrightdowntomybones.ThingslikeI’llonlycrushonfamousgirlsI’llnevermeetandI’llneverwanttobeanyone’sgirlfriend.Ever.Screwherforstirringthisupandthenshuttingthedoorinmyface.She.Shut.The.Door.
Idon’tneedher.Idon’tneedhershit.Hergoddamn…
Thereareotherhotpeopleintheworld,isall.AndifI’mgoingtoenduponthefloor,drunk,confessingthatIlikegirls,thenit’sgonnabeoversomeonewhowarrantsit.AndMorganMatthewsdoesn’t.Ideserve,like,KristenStewartorTessaThompsonor,like,everygirlinthecastofRiverdale.Gobigorgohome,right?That’sbig,notMorgan.Morganistiny.Ablip.Aminusculethorninmysidethatjustkeepsdigginganddiggingand…Ishouldtellherthat.Rightnow.Justmarchuplike,Oh,youdon’twanttokissme?Well,guesswhat?Idon’twanttokissyouanymoreeither.
There’sateeny-tinypartofmybrainscreamingatmethatthisisbadidea,butIhangarightanywayandfindmywaytoMorgan’sfrontporch.BecausethereisamuchbiggerpartofmybrainthatwantshertoknowthatI’mdone.ThatItried.Thatshe’sthemessthatIcan’tbeapartof,andnottheotherwayaround.
Iknock.Andwhenshedoesn’tcometothedoor,Iknockagain,harder.AndthenIpushthebuzzeruntilthedooriswrenchedopenbyaverysleepy-lookingMorgansaying,“Jesus,Dylan,didyouforgetyourkeysor…”Herwordsdropoffwhensheseesme.
Istandupalittlestraighter.“Hi.”
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Iscratchmyneck,concedingtothelittlevoiceinmyheadthat,yeah,maybeshowingupdrunkonMorgan’sdoorstepinthemiddleofthenightwas,infact,aterribleplan.Butohwell.
“Ruby?”Morgancrossesherarms.She’sinaT-shirtadvertisingsometrackinvitationalandthetiniestpairofsleepshortsthatIhaveeverseen.Icantellshe’snotwearingabra,andIknowIabsolutelyshouldnotbenoticingthat,soIlookawayhardandfastbeforeIstaretoolong.
ItrytotellherthatIdon’twanttokissher.Thatshe’snoKStew.Buteverythinggetsjumbled,andwhatcomesoutis“IwanttokissKStew.”
Shescrunchesupherforehead.“Okayyyyy?Cool?”
Itakeadeepbreathandhangmyhead.“No.Well,yeah,butno.Iwastryingtosaythatit’sfinethatyouslammedthedoor.Becausetherearetenthousandotherhotpeopleintheworld,andyou’rejustablipor…or…aspeedbump,youknow,becauseofthewhole…”
Sheraisesaneyebrow.“Hittingmewithyourcarthing?”
“Exactly.Youremembered!”Agoofysmilespreadsacrossmyface.“Anyway,I’mofficiallyraisingthebar.So,yeah.You”—Ipokeherchest—“areout.”
“Okay,thanksforlettingmeknow,then.”Shestartstoshutthedoor.
“You’rewelcome,littleblip,”Ianswer,tiltingmychinupasIturntowalkdownthesteps.ButImisjudgethedistanceandendupskiddingdownallthreeofthemonmybutt.
Itrytopushmyselfup,scrapingmyarmintheprocess,whichiswhenMorganappearsbesideme,barefootinsharpgravel,andno,no,no,sheshouldn’tbeoutherebecauseofme.Sheshouldbeinsideinherlittlesleepshorts,sleeping.
“Quiet.You’reverydrunk,”shesays.It’snotaquestionbutastatement.Shewrapsherarmaroundmeandhaulsmeup.
“Sowhat?”Imumble,andtrytoshrugheroff.
Morgantightenshergrip,steeringmeinsideherapartment.There’salittlescrapeonhercheekthatwasn’tthereearlier,andIreachoutmyhand,grazingitgently,untilsheunceremoniouslydropsmeontothecouchandleaves.
I’mnotsurewhatI’msupposedtobedoing,soIsitstill,rightwheresheleftme,hopingwe’llbothhatemelessinthemorningifIbehave.Iregretleavingmybottle.NotthatI’manywherenearsober,butIwouldliketobedrunker.Alotdrunker.Like,won’trememberanyofthistomorrowdrunker.
Shereturnsasecond,aminute,anhourlater—whatistimewhenyou’rewastedonstolenwhiskeyonyourcrush’scouch?—withawashclothandalittlefirstaidkit.ShedabsatthescrapeonmyarmandshovesaBand-Aidinmyhandwithaclipped“Here.”
“Thanks,”Isay,chokingonasmile.BecauseIshoulddefinitelynotfindMorganplayingnursethishot.
“Anythingelse,orarewedone?”sheasks,puttingdistancebetweenus.
Iduckmyhead.“Iguessnot.”
Shesighsandheadsdownthehall,disappearingintooneoftherooms.I’mnotsureifIshouldstayorgo.Probablygo,right?
I’malmosttoherfrontdoorwhenshecomesback.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Leaving,”Isay,turningtoseeherholdingapillowandablanket.
“Notlikethis,youaren’t.”Shedropsthestuffonthecouch.“Pleasetellmeyoudidn’tdrivehere.”
“Everlytookmykeys.”
“Everlyshouldhavetakenallofyouandputyoutobed.”Shespreadsouttheblanketandfluffsthepillow.
“Shetried,butI’mstubborn.”
“I’venoticed.”
“Youdon’thavetodothis.”
Morganputsahandonherhip.“I’mnotlettingyouwalkhomealone,andmybrotherisataconcertwiththecar.It’sthisorIgetdressedandbikeyouhome,andIreally,reallydon’tfeellikedoingthat,okay?WillyoupleasejustliedownandsleepthisoffsoIcangobacktobed?I’mbegging.”
“Okay,”IhalfwhisperasImoveovertothecouch.“I’msorryIwokeyouup.”IsearchhereyesasIsayit,hopingsheseeshowseriousIam.Shemustseesomething,becauseherfacesoftens,justalittle.
IthinkIhearherwhispergoodnightasherbedroomdoorclicksshut.26
MORGAN
Atfirst,IthinkI’minmyoldroom,atmyactualhouse,withmygiantyellowlab,Dusty,sprawledacrossme.Healwaysusedtosneakinwhenevermymomforgottoshutmydooraftershepeekedinbeforeworkeverymorning.
ButthenIhearDylanshout,“I’mout,”thewayhealwaysdoesbeforeleaving,anditallcomesrushingback:whereIam,whathappenedlastnight.Theweightshiftsagainstmewithalittlehum,anarmsnakingitswayovermyside.DefinitelynotDusty,then.
IcrackopenmyeyesandfindRubytangleduparoundme.I’mtrappedundertheblanketswithherontopofthem.Itakeinherstill-sleepingform,tornbetweenbeingfuriousshe’sinmybedandmarvelingathowpeacefulshelooksrightnowwithherfacerelaxedandherhairspillingoutaroundher.
ButIcan’tletthishappen.
Itakeadeepbreathandleanintoherwithasortofhalf-stretch,half-shovegesturethatknocksherjustenoughtowakeher.Icantellwhenshereallyregisterswhat’sgoingon,hersleepyconfusiongivingwaytobig,wideeyes.Herentirebodygoestenseasshescramblesbackwardtotheendofmybed.
Ipushuptomyelbows.“Yep,”Isay,lookingdownather.
“I’msorry.”
“Forcomingherelastnighttotellmethatyoudidn’tneedme,orforendingupinmybedafterIputyouonthecouch?”
“Both?”Sherunsherhandoverherface.“IpanickedwhenIheardyourbrotherdriveuplastnight.Iwasplanningtosleeponyourfloor,Iswear.Idon’tknowwhathappened.”
“Why’dyoupanic?”
“Ididn’twantyoutogetintroublebecauseIwashere,”shesays,wrappingonearmaroundhershoulder.
Itiltmyhead.“Itextedhimtolethimknow.Itwastotallyfine.”
“Oh,”shesays,andthenwebothjustsitinsuper-uncomfortablesilence.
“I’mgoingtohopintheshower,”Isaywhenit’sclearshedoesn’thaveanythingelsetoadd.“WillyoustillbeherewhenIgetout?”
“Probablynot.”
Inod.It’snotlikeIwasn’texpectingthatanswer.
Itakemytimeintheshower,tryingreallyhardnottothinkaboutthefactthatinthelastthirty-sixhoursorso,thegirlIlikekissedsomeoneelse,kissedme,showedupdrunkonmydoorsteptotellmethereareotherhotgirls—whichisthepartI’mreallytryingnottoclingto,becauseforhertosay“other”impliesthatshemightactuallybeincludingmeinthe“hotgirls”category—andthensleptinmybedallnight,whichIamtoomuchofaheavysleepertoevenhavebeenabletoappreciate.
ColdwaterforcesmeoutoftheshowerbeforeI’mreadytofacethetruth:RubywillbegonewhenIgetbacktomyroom,andlastnightwilljustbeanothermemorytotossontopofthemixedmessagesfromgirlsIlikepile.
Iwrapmyselfinatowelandpadtomyroom,hesitatingbeforeIwalkin.It’sfinethatshe’sgone,Iremindmyself…exceptRubydidn’tactuallyleaveafterall.
“You’restillhere,”Isay,clutchingmytowelalittletighteraswaterfrommyhairdripsdownthesideofmyface.
Sheswallowshard,hereyeswideningbeforeshelooksaway.“I’llgiveyouachancetogetdressed,”shemumbles.“CanIborrowyourbathroom?”
“Sure?”Isay,stillsortofshocked.
IdressfasterthanIeverhaveinmylifeandthenflyaroundtryingtostraightenupbeforeshegetsback.NotthatIdidn’tjustleaveheraloneinmymessofaroomforfifteenminutes.I’msittingonmybed,tryingtolooknonchalant,whensheopensthedoor,herhairinamessybunontopofherhead.
“I,uh,borrowedsometoothpastetoo,”shesayssheepishly.
“Youcankeepit,”Isay,likeanabsolutegrade-Adork.
Asmallsmilespreadsacrossherface.Shestartstocomecloserbutthenseemstothinkbetterofit,foldingherarmsbehindherandleaningagainstthewallnearmydoor.
“Morning,”shesays.
“Youdidn’tgo.”
“DoyouwishIdid?”
“Idon’tknow.Imean,I’msureyouandKStewwillbeveryhappytogether,so.”
Rubyhangsherhead,chewingherlipforasecond.“Sorryaboutallthat.”WhenIdon’tsayanythingelse,shelooksatme,hereyeswild.“Youconstantlymakemefeel…”Sheshakesherhead.“Morgan,sometimesyouarethemostfrustratingpersonI’veevermet.”
“Wow,thanks.”Ifrown.
“I’mjustbeinghonest.”Sheshrugs.“Whathappenedtoyourcheek?”
“Ifell.”
“When?Where?”
“Yesterday,inthewoods.”
“Ithoughtyouonlywenttrailrunningwhenyouwerereallyupset?”Shehuffsoutalittlestartledsound.“Wait,didyouruninthewoodsbecauseofme?”
Icrossmyarmsandlookaway.
“Morgan…”
“Whatdoyouwantmetosay?ThatIlikeyou?Youalreadyknowthat.ThatithurtwhenyoumademefeellikeIwassomekindofanexperiment?Fine,youwin.Ithurt.Anythingelse?”
“No,that’snot—”
“Noneofitmatters,though.Itdoesn’tchangeanythingbetweenus.”
“Itmatterstome,”Rubysays,pushingoffthewall.
“Why?”
“Becausethisdoesn’thappentome!”
“What?Kissinggirls?”
“No,relationships!”Rubypracticallyshouts.“Idon’tdorelationships.Period.Withanyone.Butyou’vegotmesomessedupoverhere.Idon’t…WhatdoIevendowiththis?”
“Nothing,”Isnap,standingupto,Idon’tknow,kickheroutagainorsomething.“Mydaysofbeingsomeone’sexperimentareway,wayover.”
“I’mnotexperimenting.Ireallyfuckinglikeyou,okay?!”Rubyshouts,takinganothersteptowardme.“Whydon’tyougetthat?”
Irollmyeyes.“Maybebecauseyoushowedupdrunkatmyhouselastnight,cryingandtellingmehowmuchyoudon’t.”
“Iwasn’tcrying.”
“Well,youhadbeen,”Isay,justtogetinajab.
Sheshakesherhead.“Whatever.ItoldyouIwassorry.”
“‘Sorry’doesn’texplainithappeninginthefirstplace!”
Rubylacesherfingersoverherforehead,neverbreakingeyecontact.“Itriedtokissyou,andyouslammedthedooronme.”
“BecauseI’mnotplayingyourgames!”Ishout.“Youcan’tjustlikemewhenyou’redrunk.”
“Iwasn’tdrunkyesterdayafternoon!”
AndthatIdon’thaveananswerfor.ButIknowthis:Wearen’tworking.Wearen’tinsyncatall.“Ican’tdothiswithyou,Ruby.”
Herfacefalls,alltheangerdrainingaway.“Whynot?”
Andthesinceritybehindherquestionknockstheairoutofme.EverythingIknowandfeelaboutthisabsolutetornadoofapersonstandinginmyroomrightnowstartsspinningaroundmyheadalongwitheverythingAaronsaidyesterday,punctuatedbyherbigpuppy-dogeyesandthesadslumpofhershoulders.Sowhatifshe’samess?Maybeweallare.Butwhatifshe’smeanttobemymess,andI’mmeanttobehers?
“Doyoureallylikeme?”Iask,myvoicesosmallandunsureitbarelysoundslikemeatall.
“I’mnotallowedtolikeyou,”shesays,bitingherlip.“ButIdon’treallycareaboutthatrightnow.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
Shetakesanothersteptowardme,soclosewe’renearlyface-to-face.“ItmeansIdon’tcareaboutanythingexcepthowmuchIwanttokissyouandhaveeverythingbeokaybetweenus.”
“Justrightnow?”Iaskasshecomesevencloser,hernoseskimmingagainstmycheek.
“Wegottastartsomewhere,don’twe?”
Shepausesrightbeforeourlipstouch,lettingmebetheonetoclosethedistancethistime,tobetheonemakingthechoice.AndIdo.
It’sourfirstkiss,thefirstonethatreally,trulycounts,andmytoescurl.
Shenudgesmylipsopen,herhandtanglinginmyhair,aswedissolveintoamessofsmilesandteethandtongues.Anditfeelslikenothingexistsbeyondwhereourbodiesmeet.BecauseRubyThompsonistheverybestkisser,andthiskissisonefortheages,andIwantittolastforever.
Rubywalksmebackwardtowardthebed,gigglesescapingusbothaswefallontothemattress.Herhandsandhair,herlipsandnails,areeverywhereatonce.Shekisseslikeshe’sdying,likeit’sourlastmomentonearth.Shepushesupmyshirtandbrushesherlipsagainstmysidesandmystomachsodesperately,andthenshe’sbackinfrontofme,socloseIcancountherfrecklesbeforeshedisappearsagainstmyneck,myentirebodytremblingasherhandsnakesdown,pastthebandofmyshorts,andthen—
“Wait,”Isay,myhandonherwristbeforeshecangoanyfarther.Shestills,lookingatmewithamixtureofconcernandlustthatquicklyturnstofearandrejectionasshejerksaway.
“Sorry,sorry,”shesays,tryingtogetoutofthebed,butIpullhercloseuntilsheburiesherheadinmyneckandfinallybreathes.“Ishouldn’thave.”
“It’sokay,”Isay,runningmyhandupanddownherback.
Rubypushesherselfuptoherelbows.“Wasitnotgood?”
Ifrownatthefearinherfaceandtouchhercheek.“No,itwasamazing.You’reamazing.I’mjustnotreadyforthatyet.Areyou?”
“Yes,”sheinsists,lookinglikeshehassomethingtoproveassheleansinforanotherkiss.
“Ruby,”Isay,tuckingsomeofherhairbehindherearwithasoftsmile.“Iknowwhatyou’redoing.”
“I’mmakingoutwiththepersonIlike,”shesays,andsticksouthertongue.
“Idon’twantitlikethis,”Isay,andshelooksconfused.“Idon’twantyoutohideyourfeelingsbehindsex.”
“I’mnot,”shesays,distractingmewithanotherkissbehindmyear.
“Thenwhat?”Iask,whenIregainmysenses.
Shelooksdowntowhereherfingersaretracinglazyinfinitysymbolsonmyarmandtakesadeepbreath.“IwanttoshowyouhowmuchIlikeyou.”Shelooksupatmethen,hereyesalittleglassy,herlipsalittlewobbly.Iopenmymouthtosaysomething,butshejustshakesherhead,lettingoutaself-deprecatinglaughasshepushesherselfoffthebed.
“Ruby,wedon’thavetohavesexformetoknow…”
Sheturnsaround,shruggingassheraisesherhandsanddropsthem.“Whatdoyouexpect?BecausethisiswhoIam.Idopageants,Ifixcars,andI…Ifyou’relookingforanother,deeperRubyorsomething,shedoesn’texist.SoIdon’tknow,Morgan.Isthisjustpointless?”
“Ruby,”Isay,moresternly.
Sheturnstome,lookingutterlylost.“Yeah?”
“Iaminterestedinthat.”
“What?”
“Thecars,thepageants,the…rest,”Isay.“I’mveryinterested.”
“But…”
“ButIwanttoknowmorethanthefactyoulikecarsandwerearunner-upMissTuliporwhateverbeforewegofartherthan,like,kissing.Iwanttoknowwhatthosethingsmeantoyou.It’snotthatI’mnotinterested;it’sthatI’mnotready.Iwanttotakeitslow,andIreally,reallyhopeyoucanunderstand.”
Shehesitatesbeforeanswering,likeshe’sreallythinkingitover,andthennods.“Allright,Matthews.Wecantry.ButI’mgonnaneedmorehintsaboutwhatyou’relookingfor,okay?”
Ismile.“Idon’thaveanywheretoberightnow,doyou?”
Sheshakesherhead.
“Takemesomewhere,then.”
“Where?”
“Somewherethatmatterstoyou,”Isay,andherface,itjustlightsup.
“Icandefinitelydothat,”shesays,leaningcloser.“ButcanIhaveanotherkissfirst?”
“One,”Isay,holdingupmyfingerwithalaughasshetacklesmeonthebed.“Onekiss.”
“Onekiss.”Shegrins.“Fornow.”27
RUBY
IforgotthatIleftmycaratEverly’suntilIsteppedoutsideMorgan’sapartment.AndwithMorgan’ssoreankle—itdoesn’tmatterthatshe’stryingtohideit;Inoticedrightawaywhenshegotoutoftheshower—nowayamIlettingherwalkallthewaytoEverly’swithme.Instead,Iconvincehertoletmeborrowherbikeandsetheruponthecouchwithfrozenpeas—despiteherprotestations—andpedalmyheartout.
Everlyisn’thomewhenIgetthere,butaquicktexttellsmethatsheleftmykeysunderthefrontseatofmycar.Itextherbackaquickthankyou,alongwithakissyface,beforeshovingmyphoneintomypocketandgoingforthekeys.
There’ssomethingelseundertheretoo,andwhenIslideitout,Iseeit’sthepictureEverlytookofme,lust-struckonthebleachers.ShemusthaveprinteditoutafterIleft.There’sahotpinkstickynoteonitthatsays,Weneedtotalk.Loveyou.AndIknow.Iknow.Irunmyhandovermyfaceandheadbehindthecar,safelydepositingthepictureinthetrunk.Idon’twantMorgantoknowitexists,toknowhowfargoneIwasonherfromthestart.It’ssaferthisway,IthinkasIshutthetrunk.
IreclinethepassengerseatandhitthequickreleaseonthefronttireofMorgan’sbikebeforeslidingitinside.Ihavetotakeacouplereallydeepbreathswhenalittlemudgetsonmyniceleatherseats,butMorganisworthit.
WhenIgettoherapartment,though,Iaskherifshe’scoolwithhangingforalittlebitsoIcangetitcleanedup,usingalittleofthecarinteriorcleanerIkeepstashedunderthepassengerseat—okay,alotofthecarinteriorcleaner.Shelaughsandsaysyesbeforedisappearingbackinside.
WheneverythingissaidanddoneandIfinallygoin,marginallysweatybutfeelingathousandtimesbetter,Morganiscarryingplatestothetable,pizzaandsaladalreadysittingonit.
“Youdidn’thavetodoallthis,”Isay,tornbetweenmarvelingandpanickingattheutterdomesticityofitall.
“Notrouble.”Shegrabssomenapkinsoffthecounterandslidesintooneoftheseatsatthetable.“Ijustreheatedsomeoldpizzaandopenedabagoflettuce.”
“Iknow,but—”
“Eat,”Morgansays.“Thisismoreofaprecautionthanagooddeed.”
Iraisemyeyebrows.
“Igetvery,very,veryhangrywhenIdon’teat.AndIskippedbreakfast.”
Ilaugh.“I’msureIcanhandleyoualittlehangry.”
“Oh,it’snotalittle.It’slikeDEFCONone—runforcover,scorchedearth,thewholenine.YouwillcowerinthefaceofahungryMorgan.”
“Goodtoknow,”Isay,passingherthesalad.“Eatup,then.Ididn’tleaveanytimeinthescheduleforcowering.”
???
“Sowhereexactlyarewegoing?”Morganaskswithinminutesofusbeingontheroad.
“You’llsee,”Isay,desperatelytryingtoignoretheconstantthrumofWhatifthisisaterribleidea?spiralingthroughmyhead.
“Ican’twait.”ShesetsherhandovermineasIshiftgears,givingitalittlesqueeze,andforasecondmyfearfliesoutthewindow,disappearingintothewarmspringair.
I’maloneinthiscarwiththepersonIlike.Andshelikesmeback.Andrightnow,that’senough.Iflexmyhand,catchingherfingersbetweenmine,andherlipscurveupinasmile.
Roughlytenminuteslater,we’repullingupinfrontofBilly’sgarage,thecomfortingscentofgreaseandgasolinewaftinginthroughmyopenwindows.IglanceatMorgan,whostaresinquisitivelyatthebuilding.
“Comeon,”Isay.“Iwantyoutomeetsomeone.”
Billyishunchedoverhisdesk,wrestlingwithajammed-upstaplerandlettingoutanimpressivestringofswears,whenwestepinsidehisoffice.
“Here,letme,”Isay,takingitfromhimandusingoneofmylongnailstopryoutthepileofstaplesfromwhenheobviouslyjustkeptsqueezingitandhopingforadifferentresult.
“Whatareyoudoinghere,kid?”heasks.Hewipeshishandsonaragandthenleansbackinhisseat.“Ididn’tthinkI’dseeyouuntil…”Hestopsmidsentence,finallynoticingMorganhoveringinthedoorway.ShegiveshimalittlewaveasIsetthenow-fixedstaplerdowninfrontofhim.“Andwho’sthis?”heasks,lookingthoroughlyamused
“Thisismy…”Ihesitate.Mywhat,exactly?“Friend”doesn’tseemtocutit,butIdefinitelycan’tsay“girlfriend”either.
Billyeyesme,curiositydancingacrosshisface.Morganstepsforwardwithherhandout.“I’mMorgan,”shesays.“Niceplace.”
“Yourfriend’saliar,Ruby,”hesays.“Apoliteliar,butaliarnonetheless.”
“Hey,inherdefense,shedoesn’tevenhaveacar.Sheprobablygenuinelythinksyourshitholeiswhatgaragesaresupposedtolooklike.”Ismirk.
“Youneedtoteachherbetter,then,”Billysays,narrowingoneeye.“Can’tsendheroutintotheworldthinkingthatway.”
“Iwill.”Ilaugh.Andthiswouldbetheperfectmomenttograbherhand,toshowBillyexactlywhosheistome,butI’mnotready.Morgantuckshersinherpockets,almostlikesheknowsittoo.
“WhatcanIdoforyougirlstoday?”Billyasks.
“MorganwantedtoseewhereIhangout.IthoughtshecouldmeetyouandI’dshowheraroundalittle.”
“Well,I’mpleasedtomeetyou,Morgan.And,Ruby,youknowyoudon’tneedmypermissiontogopokingaroundinhere,”hesays.“I’vegotaboutfiftyinvoicestostaplenow,though,soItrustyoucanhandlethegrandtouronyourown?”
“Yeah,”Isay,reliefwashingoverme.
Idon’tknowifhegetsit,ifherealizesthatthisisascloseasI’veevergottentobringingsomebodyhometomeetmyfamily,butifhedoes,heseemsonboard—andevenfiguredoutawaytogiveusprivacytoboot.Billyhasn’thadfiftyinvoicesthismonth,letalonethisweek.
Istepintothemainbay,pullinghisofficedoorshutforgoodmeasure.Thegarageiseerilysilent—notevenBilly’sfavoriteBestofJohnnyCashCDisplaying,ararityforthisplace.ItakeMorgantothefarcornerofthegarage,awayfromthelifts,whereIhavealittleworkspace.
“Thisismyarea,”Isay.ShestopsatthebulletinboardI’vefilledupwithpicturesofmodelsposingwithcars.Allofthemarewomen.
Shelooksatme,asmirkonherface.“Nicepics.”
“Ijustreallylikethecars?”Isaywithafakewince.
“Mm-hmm,yeah,allofthesewomenhavereally,reallynice…cars,”shesays,thenburstsoutlaughingsohardshesnorts,and,ohmygod,Iloveher.Imean,notreally,butstill.
Islideopenoneofthedrawersoncewe’vereineditin.“Thesearemytoolshere,andthesearesomepartsI’mworkingon.Billyletsmeworkoffstuffformycar.He’saflipperontopofhisregularwork.He’llbringinthesereallygarbagecars,andthenIworkonthemwithhimuntiltheycanpassinspectionandbesold.That’showIfixedupmycar,actually.”
“Thereisnowaythatwaseveragarbagecar,”shesays,gesturingtowardtheparkinglot,wheremybabysits,itsfreshpaintjobglintinginthesunlight.
“Yeah,shewas.”IreachintoanotherdrawerandpulloutwhatBillycallsmy“beforesandafters”—picswetakewhenwefirstbringacarinandthenonthedayit’ssold.IflipthroughthepileuntilIfindthe“before”pictureofmycar,allrusted-outandruined,anddropitonthetableinfrontofher.Shepicksitupandholdsitinviewofmybaby,squintingasshelooksbackandforth.
“Thereisnowaythatisthesamecar.”
“It’samazingwhatyoucandowithananglegrinderandtoomuchfreetime,”Isayaswewalktogetacloserlook.
“Idon’tbelieveyou.”
“Look,”Isay,pointingtoatinylittledentonthesidefenderinthepictureandthenpointingtoitonmycar.“Samedent.”
Shescrunchesuphereyebrows.“Ifyoucouldturnthatrustbucketintothisincrediblecar,whydidn’tyoufixthatdent?Youfixedeverythingelse.”
“Iwantedtoleaveit,”Isay,ablushrisingtomycheeks.
“Why?”Shestandssocloseherpinkiefingerbrushesagainstmine.
“It’sstupid.”
“GoodthingIlikestupid,then.”
Irollmyeyeswithagood-naturedsigh.“Fine,Ileftitasareminderofitsroughtimesorwhatever.Youcanbuffthemoutandpaintoverthem,butthey’restillthere.Stillapartofyou,andthathastobeokay,right?Youhavetolivewithit,butit’snottheendoftheworld.”Ibitemylip.“LikeIsaid,it’sstupid.”
“No,”shesays,lookingatmesoearnestlyithurts.“It’sreallynot.It’s…”Shetrailsoff.
“What?”
“It’sjust,youdothewholepageantthingandthenallofthis.Idon’tknowalotofgirlswhocouldpulloffbothatthesametime.”
I’dbemarginallyoffendedifshedidn’tsoundsosincerelyinawe.“Well,somegirlsdo.”
“Yeah,”shesays,bumpinghershoulderagainstmine.“Iguesstheydo.”
AndIsweartogodImightexplodeifIdon’tkissherrightthissecond,butIknowIcan’t.Notinpublic,notinplacesthataren’tjusthersandmine,thataren’tsafe.Notyet.Ilookather,andshesmiles.Ihopeshegetsit.IhopeshecanfeelhowmuchIwantto.
EvenwhenIcan’t.28
MORGAN
Idon’tknowwhatMondayisgoingtobring.
IhalfexpectRubytobewaitingtodrivemetoschoolwhenIgetoutoftheshower,andIhalfexpecthertojustnevertalktomeagain.Neitherisquiteaccurate,itturnsout—thetruthissomewhereinthemiddle.
Shesmilesatmeinthehallsinsteadofscowlingandevensayshiasshepassesmeonherwaytogym.IcatchherfriendEverlystaringatmemorethanonceduringtheday.DidRubytellheraboutus?Istherean“us”?ButwhenIsmileatEverly,shedoesn’treact,soIdecideit’sallinmyhead.
Whenit’sfinally,finallytimeforGovernment,I’mpracticallyburstingfromnervesandanticipation.Igettositnexttoher,withatotallydiscreetandsociallyacceptablecover…orIwouldhave,ifAllieandLydiahadn’tgrabbedmeassoonasIwalkedin.
“Oh,Iwasgoingto…”Isay,gesturingtotheothersideoftheroom,buttheirexaggeratedsadfaceshavemetakingmyoldseat.
Rubywalksinafewminuteslater,andIswearshelooksalittlehurt,oratleastasdisappointedasIam,whensheseeswhereI’msitting.Igesturetowardmyfriendslike,Whatcanyoudo?andhopesheunderstands.Atleastthisway,we’redirectlyacrossfromeachother,whichshouldmakeiteasiertowatchherinclasswithoutgettingbusted.WhichIprettymuchdotheentireperiod.
TherearealotofthingsInevernoticedabouther.Likethewayshechewsherpen,whichusuallyIfindsuperannoyingbutsuddenlyfindkindofendearing.Orthewayshescrunchesupherforeheadwhenshe’stakingnotes.Orthewayshebitesherlipandlooksupatmethroughhereyelasheseverytimeshecatchesmewatch—
“You’restaring,”Lydiawhispersintomyear,startlingmeenoughtosendmypenspiralingoutintothemiddleofthefloor.Rubysmirksandputsthetipofherpencapbetweenherteeth,oneeyebrowraised,bothhereyesonthepaperinfrontofher.Idropmyheaddownsofastitthudsagainstthedesk.
“Issomethingwrong,Ms.Matthews?”Mrs.Morrisonasks.
“No,”Imumble,rubbingmyforehead.
“Inthatcase,isthereanythingyou’dliketosharewiththeclass?”Ivigorouslyshakemyhead.Rubylaughs,andLydiahandsmeanotherpenwithaconfusedglance.
Iboltthesecondthebellrings,lostsomewhereintheconfusingmiddlegroundbetweenturnedonandmortified.Isprinttomynextclass,slippingintomyseatandtakingaminutetoregroupbeforetherestoftheclassgetsthere.Myphonevibrates,andIpullitout.It’sfromRuby…asinglesmirkemojiandnothingelse.
Idropmyheadandstifleagroanbeforepullingoutmyprecalcbook.
Therestofthedayslipsbackintonormalcy,forwhichIamatleasttemporarilygrateful.Besidesanoccasionalheadnodorsmileinthehallway,nothingisnoticeablydifferent.
It’sonlywhenI’minthelockerroombeforetrack,pullingonmyrainbowglitterCLOSETSAREFORCLOTHEStanktop,thatIstarttoworryyetagainthatthislastweekendwasjustaone-off.Whatifwe’vepeakedatsmirking-across-the-classroomfriendswhooccasionallykiss?
“Hurry,”Alliewhines,tappingherfootbythedoor.“Idon’twanttobelateagainandgetstuckdoingpush-ups.”
IopenmymouthtosayI’mcoming,butthenIseeit—orher,actually.Ruby,peekingoutatmefromtheshowersinthebackofthelockerroom.Nooneusesthemhere.Idon’tevenknowiftheywork.Sheholdsherfingertoherlipswithasmileandthendisappears.
IlookatAllie.“Goahead.Igottascrewinmyspikesstill.”
“Ohmygod.”Shesighs.“You’readisaster.”
Iflashheranexaggeratedwinceasshedisappearsoutthedoor.Ilistenforasecondtomakesurewe’realoneandthentiptoetowardtheshowers.Icreepupbehindtheedgeofthestallwallandthenjumparoundit,growlingwithmyhandsup…butshe’snotthere.“Ru—”
Myvoiceiscutoffashandssnakearoundmymouthandwaist.Ikickandbiteandtrytoscream,myinstinctscrowdingoutallrationalthoughtasI’mdraggedbackwardintothedarkestcornerofthelockerroom.
Thehandsletgo,andRubyletsouta“Jesus”alongwithatinypainedlaugh.Ispinaroundtoseeherdoubledover.
“Ruby!”
“Holyshit,youkickhard.”Shehuffs,herhandsonherknees.
“Areyouokay?”Myhandsgoflying,fussingovereveryinchofheruntilshestandsup,somehowsmiling.“Whatwereyouthinking?”
“Youweretryingtoscaremefirst!Iwasjustreturningthefavor.OrsoIthought.ExceptthenyouwentallRondaRouseyonmyass.”
“Sorry,ohgod,sorry,”Isay.Shepullsmecloserandtipsmychinupsowe’reface-to-face.
“Don’tbe,”shesays,andthenleansintokissme.Andthereitis,thatkindofeuphoric,kindofterrifying,tinglyupside-downfeelingIgetwheneverI’maroundthisgirl.Evenaboringdayofhighschoolcouldn’tdullit.“I’vebeendyingtodothatallday.”
“Same,”Isay,grinningbecauseRubyThompsoniskissingmeinthegymlockerroom,andthat’ssomehowabsurdandperfectallatonce.
Shegentlytouchesthescrapeonmycheek,studyingmyfaceintently.“Areyousureyou’reokaytorun?”
“Yes,Mom,”Isnark.
“Youwerelimpingyesterday.”
“Yeah,butIdistinctlyremembersomeonemakingmeputitupandiceitafterdroppingmeoff.Sonowit’sbetter.”
Rubylooksatmesuspiciously.“Thenwhy’sitallcoveredintape?”
“Preventativemeasure.”
Shefrownsbutthenleansinforanotherquickkiss.
“What’sthatfor?”
“Preventativemeasure.”Shesmirksandthenwalksout.
???
Aftertrack,IrunhomeforaquickshowerandaFaceTimewithmydad—whodecidedlydoesnotwanttotalkaboutthelawsuitatallandquicklyputsMomoninstead—andthenIbikeovertothecenter.IhaveanothermeetingwithDannylatertoday,andI’mreallyhopingthatthiswillbethetimewhenhereallyopensuptome.I’velovedgettingtoknowhim;I’mjustnotsureifI’veactuallybeenhelpinghim.
“Everythingokay?”IzzieasksmewhenIwalkin.She’sstandinginthecommonroom,fussingwiththefurniture.SheandAaronhavebeenworkingonsettingupaspaceforthebagswe’reputtingtogetherwiththedonationsfromPrideClub.AnikaandIjustputthebinsoutandhungtheposterstheotherday,butwe’realreadygettingsomecoolstuff.Ican’twaittoseeitallhere,whereitcanactuallyhelppeople.
“Yeah,”Isayfinally,becauseitis.Ithink.Mostly.
Shestudiesmyface.“Youknow,Morgan,youcanalwaystalktomeifsomething’sbotheringyou.You’vebeendoinggreatworkasapeercounselor,butthatdoesn’tmeanwearen’taresourceforyouaswell.”
Isigh.“AmIthatobvious?”
Izziesmiles.“No,butI’vebeendoingthislongenoughtobeabletotellwhensomeonehassomethingontheirmind.”
“It’s…”Isay,notsureexactlywheretostart.Iglanceoverattheemptyspaceshejustmade,andithitsmewhat’sreallywrong.“It’sjustthatI’mnotsureifI’mdoingenough.”
“Morgan,”shesays,“youhavebecomeanincredibleassettoourcenter!I’msorryifIhaven’tmadeclearhowhappywearewithyou.”
“Thankyou,thatmeansalot.ButI’mnotjusttalkingabouthere.”Ilookupather.“Here,IfeellikeI’mmakingadifference,butthenIgohomeandthelawsuitismovingsoslowly.Sometimesitfeelslikemovingherewastheequivalentofrunningaway.Likeyeah,mywaiver’supintheairandallofthatstuffisamess,butIcan’tstopthinkingaboutthekidsatmyoldschoolorevenDanny.WhatamIreallydoingtochangethingsforpeoplelikeme?Shouldn’tIbeoutthere,loud,likethoseParklandkidsorNupolKiazoluorGretaThunbergorsomething?”
“Icanunderstandthatfeeling.”Izzieleanshershoulderagainstoneoftheshelvesandgivesmeanothersoftsmile.“Butyouaredoingalot—you’reveryinvolvedinPrideClub,youvolunteerhere,you’reinthemiddleofalegalbattleevenifitdoesn’tfeellikeitdaytoday,andyou’reanincrediblerolemodel.Youriskedeverythingtotakeastand,andyou’rejustgettingstarted.Ihavenodoubtthatyouaregoingtodobigthingsforourcommunity,butIneedyoutodomeonefavor.”
“Anything,”Isay.
“Don’tsellshorttheworkthatyou’realreadydoingandthethingsthatyou’vealreadyaccomplished.You’renotGreta,butyouareMorganMatthews,andthatmeanssomethingtoo.IpromisethatI’llhelpyoufindmoreopportunities,butactivismisn’tsomethingthathappensinjustonewayorinjustoneplace.Therewillalwaysbemorebattles,andbeatingyourselfupaboutnotbeingabletodoitall,allatonce,doesn’tdoanyoneanygood.Pleasetakethetimetohonorwhatyou’realreadydoing,becausethat’simportanttoo.”
Thedooropensbehindusthen,andDannywalksin,givingmethepatentedbronodashepullsoffhishat.
“AndI’msureDannywouldbethefirsttoagree,”Izziesays.
“Aboutwhat?”heasks.
“Basically?ThatMorganisawesome,”shesays.“Tellher.Shedoesn’tbelieveme.”
“Ohmygod,”Igroan,mycheeksheating.Thisisalmostmom-levelembarrassment.“Youdonothavetotellmethat.”
Heflashesmeaconfusedlookasweheadtowardthecounselingroom.
“It’strue!”Izziecallsafterus.
“Sorryaboutthat,”IsayasIshutthedoorbehindus.
“It’sfine.Idon’tknowifI’dsay‘awesome’…”HetrailsoffasIdropintothechairnexttohim.“ButIcanagreethatyoudon’ttotallysuck.”
Ilaugh.“Fairenough.”
Andthatfeelslikeawin.29
RUBY
Today,MorganMatthewsisgettingaproperdate.Shedoesn’tknowityet,butIdo,andI’mpracticallybouncingoffthewalls.
It’salmosttheone-weekanniversaryof,well,whateverweare,andIwanttomarktheoccasion.There’salottobegratefulfor:It’sbeenaweekofstolenkissesinhiddendoorways,ofmakingoutinemptyclassroomsandlockerrooms,ofFaceTimingallnighteverynightafterChuckfallsasleep,ofholdinghandsunderdesks.
IthasalsobeenaweekofdodgingEverly’squestions:“Whatareyoutwoexactly?”Istilldon’treallyknowyet.Butwhateverthisisandwhateverit’sbecoming,we’reoneweekclosertoit.
Whichmeanstonightisgoingtobeabigstep.Tonightisarealdate,atanactualrestaurant.We’regoingtoholdhands.Flirt.Kiss.Doallthethingsthatothercouplesdo.Thingsthatmakemystomachflipingoodandbadways,butIknowhowmuchit’sgoingtomeantoMorgan,soit’sworthit.
I’vebeencountingdownthesecondsalldaywhileI’vebeenstuckatthestudioworkingforCharlene.Bythetimeclassesaredoneandit’stimeformyprivatelesson,I’mtoodistractedtoreallyfocusonthepracticeinterviewquestions.
“Whatisonemomentinyourlifeyou’dliketoreliveandwhy?”Charleneasks
Ittakesallmywillpowernottoanswer,WhenMorganfinallykissedmeback.Instead,Imumblesomethingaboutpastpageantduties,andshefrownsandtellsmetospeakup.
Eventually,shetakespityonmeandofferstocheckmywalksandtalentroutineinstead.Tapisn’ttechnicallyherjurisdiction—Ihaveawholeotherinstructorforthat—butshesaysshewantstomakesureitall“flows.”IthinkwebothknowI’muselessuntilIburnoffsomeofthisjitteryenergy.
IpracticallyruntomycarafterwardandbarelyevengetitstartedbeforeI’mtextingMorgan.IremindherI’mpickingherupandtellhertowearsomethingcasualbutnice-ish.Shejokes:Iguessthatmeansnographicteesthen?AndIdon’tknowwhattosay,becausegraphicteesaretotallyfineforwherewe’regoing.IworrythatmaybeIsetherexpectationstoohigh.Idebatecallingthewholethingoff.ThenIrushhometostress-dressinstead.
“Wheredoyouthinkyou’reoffto?”mymomaskswhenI’melbowsdeepinmyclosetlookingforclothesthatsayI’mtryingbutnottoohard.
“Outwithfriends,”Isay,settlingonacutetopandjeanssotightIcanbarelybreathe.IhopeMorganappreciatesthewaytheyshowoffmy…assets.
“Youhaveapageanttomorrow,”Momsays,leaningagainstthedoorframe.Andgod,IhatewhenshefindssomestupidSundaypageanttoentermein.They’realmostalwaysthemallmodelingonesthataren’tevenworththecostofentering.Momwatchesme,waitingformetosaysomethingnegative,daringme,maybe.She’sholdingacoffeemug,butIsmellthesharptangofalcoholcomingfromit.
“Jesus,Mom,don’tyouhavetowork?”Ipullthemugoutofherhand,settingitonmydresserasIturnbacktomyclothes.
“Whatthehell,Ruby!”
“Don’tletChuck…”Itrailoff,becauseitdoesn’tmatter.Chuck’sgoingtodragMomdownifsheletshim,andforwhateverreason,she’stoolovestrucktodoanythingaboutit.
“Mindyourownbusiness,”shesnaps.
“Kindofhardtomindmyownbusinesswhenyoursislivinginourhouse,gettingyoudrunkbeforeyourshift.”
“Watchit.”Andthere’senoughfireinMom’seyestotellmetoleaveitalone.
“Sorry,”Isay,softeningmytone.“Ijustworry.”
Someofthehardnessslipsfromherfaceasshepatsmyarm.“Youdon’thavetoworryaboutme,baby.Youjustfocusongettingusthewintomorrow.”Shesmileswhenshesaysit,likeit’sapeptalkandnotaleasharoundmyneck.
“Iwill,”Isay.“Butrightnow,Igottago.”
“Wait.”ShestopsmeasIwalkby,mydateoutfitballedinmyarms.
“What?”
“Youtellthatboynohickeysthistime.”
???
I’msittingoutsideMorgan’sapartment,tryingnottofreakout,twentyminutesbeforethetimeIsaidI’dbehere.
Ifoundagasstationhalfwaybetweenherhouseandmineandfinishedgettingreadythere,underthedingylightsofitsoldbathroom.Thescentofcheaptoiletcleanerandchemicalairfreshenerstillclingstomyskin.Worthit,though,togetoutofmyhousewithoutansweringanymorequestions.
ThenIstoppedatthegrocerystoreandboughtMorganaflower—asinglepurplecarnation—tokilltime.Iwould’vedrivenaroundlonger,butIwasworriedaboutwastinggas.ItriedtocalculateifIcouldputmoreinandstillcoverdinner,butitseemedsafertoparkhereandwaititout.
ButthecurtainkeepsmovinginMorgan’slivingroom,andI’malmostpositivesomeonekeepscheckingtomakesureI’mstillhere.
Idebatewaitingforhertocomeout.I’msureshewillwhenshe’sready.ButIdon’twanttobethetypeofpersonwhowaitsinthecar,orworse,beeps.Iwanttobe…respectable,ifthat’sevenpossible.BecauseI’veneverdonethisbefore,butIbetshehas.AndIbetitwasclassyandwithsomeonewhocouldaffordmorethanonestupidgrocery-storecarnation.
Thecurtainmovesagain,forcingmyhand.Ipopopenmycardoorwithareluctantsighanddragmyselfupthestepstoherapartmentwaytooearly.ThedoorswingsopenbeforeIcanevenknock,andDylanstandsthere,waiting.
“Uh,hi,”Isay,awkwardlyduckingunderhisarmandintothelivingroom.IrealizetoolateIwassupposedtowaittobeinvitedin,butohwell.Hereweare.
“YoumustbeRuby.”Heshutsthedoor.“I’mDylan.Haveaseat.”Istaystandinguntilhecrosseshisarmsandarchesonebighairyeyebrowatme,andthenmybutthitsthecouchfast.“Thankyou.Ihearyouwanttotakemybabysisteroutonadate.”
IshakemyheadnooninstinctbecauseIdon’tknowwhat’ssafetoshareorwhatheknows.
Dylantiltshishead.“Youdon’twanttotakeheronadate?Becauseshe’sinherroomgettingreadyundertheimpressionthatthisis,infact,adate.Ifitisn’t—”
“Iwasn’tsayingit’snotadate,”Icuthimoff,worriedshemighthear.
Hepuffsouthischest.“YoushookyourheadnowhenIaskedifyouweretakingherout.”
Iwince.“Ididn’tmeannono.Imeantno…Idon’t…notwanttotakeyoursisteronadate.”
“Youshookyourheadnobecauseyoudon’tnotwanttodateher?”Dylanasks,andIswearhe’stryingtoholdinasmilewhenherubshisforehead.“Let’strythisagain:Doyouwanttotakemysisteronadate?”
Inodslowly,realizingwithreliefthatitdoesn’tfeelweirdtosaythat—oratleastimplyitwithanod—toanotherperson.Itfeelskindofgood—infact,reallygood.Toogoodtoberelegatedtoanodonly.
“Yeah,Iwanttotakeheronadate,”Isay,andthenIsuckmylipsovermyteethbecausesayingitoutloudfeelsbiggerthanIexpected.
“Good.Andwhatexactlyareyourintentionswithher?”
“Mywhat?”
“Yourintentions.Whatdoyouwanttogetoutofthis?”
“Um.”Iswallowhard.“Somefood?”
I’veneverbeengrilledlikethisbefore.Butthenagain,firstdateever.Firstalmost-one-weekanniversaryever.Maybethat’sjusthowitworks.
Dylanshiftsalittleandclearshisthroat.“Imeantmorelike,wheredoyouseethisrelationshipgoing?”
“Oh,”Isay,“uh…”
Isheaskingmeifwe’regoingtohavesex?Idon’t—
“Whatareyoudoing?”Morganasks,boltingintotheroom.Shelooksincredibleinblackleggingsandasilkypinkhaltertopthatmatchesherhairandshowsoffhershoulders.Andshit,thosearesomeperfectshoulders.Itry—andfail—nottostare.
Morgansmilesatmeandthenturnsherattentiontoherbrother,hereyesgoingcold.“Seriously,Dyl,whatareyoudoing?”
“Idon’tknow!I’mwingingit!”hesays.“Keisha’sfatherdidthistomebeforeourfirstofficialdate,andIwasjusttryingtopickuptheslacksinceDad’snothere.”
Shegroans.“Whyareyousoannoying,andhowcanImakeitstop?”
“It’sokay,seriously,”Isay,worriedshe’sreallymad.
“Annoyingyouispartofmyjobasyourbrother.”Dylanmussesupherhairandearnshimselfanotherscowl.“Andpissingyouoffispartofmyjobasyourtemporaryguardian.”HepointsatmeoverMorgan’sshoulder.“Youseemcool,Ruby.Don’tmessthisup,anddon’tbreakmysister’sheart,orI’llbreakyour—”
“Dylan!”Morganshouts.
“Toofar?”
“Toofar.”
Heshrugs.“Fine.Havefunonyourdate,begood,andRuby,haveherhomebyeightfifteen.”
“Eightfifteen?”Morganshrieks.“Firstofall,Idon’tevenhaveacurfew,andsecondofall,ifIdiditwouldn’tbeeightfifteen!That’sinliketwohours!”
“Allright,Igiveup,”hesays.“Parentingistoohard.Justcomehomesafebeforetomorrowmorning,okay?”
“Thankyou.”Morgansighsbeforesteppingforwardtogivehimahug.“Ipromisetobesafeandtobehomebeforemidnight.”
“Great,”hesayscheerfully.“Oh,andI’mtakingKeishaoutagaintonight,soIwon’tbeherewhenyougethomeregardless.”
Shepuncheshisarm.“Yousucksomuch.”
“Loveyoutoo,Morgie,”hesaysinababyvoiceassheyanksmeoutthedoor.
???
Morgandoesn’tuncrossherarmsuntilwe’reonthehighway,andeventhen,it’sonlytoadjusttheair-conditioningvents.She’shadadeathgriponthecarnationsinceweleft.“I’msorryaboutthat.”Shelooksatmenervously.“Ihopeitdidn’tfreakyouout.”
“Ithoughtitwascute,actually,”Ilie,well,halflie.Itwasalittlecute,asidefromthewholeutterlytraumaticthing.Ismileatheranyway,ashardasIcan.Iknowwhatshe’sreallyaskingisAreyougoingtoditchmebecauseofthis?andI’mnot.
“NothingaboutDylaniscute,”shehuffs,goingtorecrossherarms,butIgrabherhand,pullingitintomylapandlacingourfingers.Izipintothefastlane,acceleratingjusthardenoughforherheadtohitthebackofherseat.Ifeellikeanabsoluterockstar,zoomingdownthehighwayinthebestcarwiththeperfectgirl.
Icouldgetusedtothis.
Morganraisesaneyebrowatthedingyrestaurantwhenwepullinforty-fiveminuteslater,andIcan’thelpbutthinkofherbrothermakingthesamefaceasheaskedaboutmyintentions.Ihopeshe’snotwonderingaboutthattoo.Ihopeshe’snotpissedordisappointedthatourfirstrealdateisthreetownsover,whereIknowforsurewewon’trunintoanybodyfromschool.
“Thislooks…nice?”Morgansays,hervoiceliltingup.
Yeah,somaybeaskinghertodressnice-ishwasmostlyformybenefit,butstill
“Ihaveitongoodauthoritythefoodhereisamazing.”
“Whosegoodauthority?”
“ThathyperchefguyonTV.Hecamehereoncetofilmacoupleyearsago.See,theyevenhaveasignaboutitrightthere.”Ipointtoaplaquenexttothewheelchairrampboastingtherestaurant’sstatusasa“DedicatedDivineDiner,”justlikethenameoftheshow.
“Well,ifthere’sasign,”shesayswithanamusedglintinhereye.
“Comeon,let’sgocheckitout.Actually,wait.Don’tmove.”Morganwatchesmerunaroundthefrontofthecar.Inearlytripwhenarockwedgesintomyflip-flop,butIpullittogetheratthelastsecond.Iflingherdooropenwithanexaggeratedbowandholdoutmyhand.
“Ohmygod,whatareyoudoing?”Shelaughs,puttingherhandintomine.
“Iliterallyhavenoidea.”Ismile.“Butthisiswhattheydointhemovies.”
“DoyougetallyourdatingideasfromTVandmovies?”
“Prettymuch.”Iblush.“I’veneverdonethisbefore.”
“Neverdonewhat?”Morganasks,followingmeinside.
“Goneonarealdatewithanyone.”
Ourservershowsupbeforeshecanrespond,grabbingtwomenusandleadingustoalittletableatthebackoftherestaurant.Itaketheseatfacingthedoor,justtobesafe.IhatethatIcan’tturnitoff,theconstantworryofbeingseen.
Morganglancesatthemenuandsetsitdown.“Doyouwanttoorderforme?”sheasks.“Theydothatinthemoviesalottoo.”
“Uh,Ican?”Isay,feelingthepressure.TheonlythingsI’veeverseenhereatarepizzaandsalad.
“Ohmygod,youshouldseeyourfacerightnow.”Shenudgesmyfootunderthetable.
“Thatbad?”
“Purepanic.”
“Wow,Isuckatthis.”
“Youdon’t,”Morgansays,tappingmymenutomakemelookup.“Butisthisreallyyourfirstdate?”
Inod,stillstaringatthemenu,determinedtogetthisright.
“Ruby,”shesays,andwaitsformetolookup.“Idon’tneedmoviedates.Ijustwanttobewithyou.”
Ifmycheeksweren’tredbefore,theyarenow,becausethatis,like,thenicest.Whyisshethenicest?Andhow?
TheservercomestotakeourorderbeforeIhaveachancetospintoofarout.Morganorderschickentenderswithfries,andIgetaburgerthatwindsupbeingthesizeofmyhead.
WebothlaughwhenIbiteintoitandhalfthecondimentssquirtout.
Morganmakeslaughingfeeleasy,likehappinessisthedefaultinsteadofsomethingalwaysjustoutofreach.Forthefirsttimeinmylife,mycheekshurtnotfromforcingasmileonstage,butbecauseIlegitcan’tstopsmilingatthepersonacrossfromme.It’skindofnice.
Halfwaythroughdessert,abrowniesundaewedecidetosplit,IaskMorganabouthercommitmentletterforcollegeandrunningDivisionInextyear.Sheseemssurprised,andIadmitI’vebeengooglingalotaboutrunningandcollegeandhowitallworks—andmaybemoreabouthertoo.Ican’thelpit.
Shegetsquietandmesseswithhernapkin.
“What’swrong?”
“Nothing,”shesays.
“Something.”NerveswellupinsidemeasItrytofigureoutwhatIdidtoveerusoffthefasttracktohappytown.
Morganshrugs,diggingherspoonintotherapidlymeltingicecream.“It’sjusteverythingiskindofupintheairwiththat.”
“Butyousignedaletterofintent.ThepicturecameupwhenI—”
“Yeah,Idid.”
“I’mlost.”
“Soaletterofintentislikemepromisingtogototheirschoolandthempromisingmemoney,right?”
Inod.
“Well,apparently,theyputloopholesinthepileoftinylittlelettersattheend,which,inmyexcitement,Ididn’tbothertoread.Soitwentfromasurethingto‘pendingbasedontheoutcomeofmywaiver.’Basically,I’mscreweduntilfurthernotice,everything’sonhold,andI’msosickofit.Ijustwanttorun.”Sheshakesherhead.“Sorry,I’mdumpingmyproblemsalloverournicedate.”
“Don’tbesorry,”Isay,reachingovertoholdherhand.“Igethowthatfeels.”
“Youdo?”
“Withthepageantsandstuff.Ilovemakeupanddressesandallthatcrap,don’tgetmewrong,butIhatethepageantsthemselves.AndIhatehowmuchmoneymymomspendsonthem.”
“Couldn’tyoujuststopdoingthem,then?”
“NotifIwantaplacetolive.”IlaughuntilIseeherhorrifiedface.“I’mkidding.Probably.It’scomplicated,andyeah,mymomandIhavealotofissues.Butshecould’vebeenMissTeenUSAifIhadn’tcomealong.Herwholelifewouldhavebeendifferent.Shemadealotofsacrificestohaveme,youknow?I’mworkingonawaytogetoffthecircuit,butIdon’tknowifIcouldevercompletelytakepageantsawayfromher.Ioweherthatmuch.”
“Youdon’toweyourmomyourfuturejustbecauseyouthinkshegaveuphersforyou.”
Ipullmyhandback.“It’snotwhatIthink.It’sthetruth.”
Morganfrowns.“Iknow,butthisisyourlife!Andthewayyoutalkaboutthisversushowyouabsolutelylitupatthegarage?It’slikeyou’retwodifferentpeople.Youdon’thavetolivelikethat.Youhaveoptions.”
“Whydoyoucaresomuchaboutmy‘options’?”Iask,makingairquotes.Likeanasshole.
“Iwantyoutobehappy.”
“Areyouhappy?”Becauseitdoesn’tsoundlikeit,andshehasplentyofoptions.
“Rightnow,atthismoment?”Shetipsherhead.
“Sure,”Isay,eventhoughImeantingeneral.ButnowIreallywanttohearheranswer.
“Yeah,actually.I’mhavingareallygreattimewithyou.”
“Good,metoo,”Isay,battlingagainstherspoonforthelastbiteoficecreamuntilshegrinsandletsmewin.“Let’sbehappy,then.Wecanworryabouttherestanotherday.”
Morgan’squietforasecondandthenreachesformyhand.“Tellmemoreaboutfixingupcars?”
SoIdo.Andshelistensthewholetime,addinglittlecommentshereandtheretoletmeknowshe’spayingattention.
Andthistime,Idon’tletgoofherhandonce.30
MORGAN
Thatdate.
Idon’tevenknow.
Thatdatewillgodowninhistoryasoneofthebestdatesinthehistoryofalldatesever,evenifIdowishshetookmywholeit’sokaytonotdopageantsthingmoreseriously.
ButthenMondaycomes,andwe’reinschool,backtooccasionalsecretstolenkissesindarkeneddoorways,andnomatterhowmuchItrytoshoveitdown,itstartstofeelliketheabsolutebestandworstallrolledintoone.Becausewe’renoteventwoweeksinandRuby’sallIthinkabout.Sheseemsjustasobsessedwithme…butalreadyI’mdyingtoholdherhandinthehallwaysandnotjusthercar.Iwanttocallhermygirlfriend.Iwantpeopletoknow
ImakeitawholeotherweekbeforeImusterupthenervetoaskherifshe’sinthesameplace.We’rebothwalkingtowardthetrackafterschool,herpretendinglikeshe’stheretowatchlacrossewithherfriends,metoactuallyworkout.LydiaandAlliehavegottenusedtoherjustbeingaround,butIsayitlowsonoonecanhearanyway:“Whatarewedoing?Whatarewe?”Andthewayshefreezesupisnotexactlyreassuring.
“Doweneedalabel?”
IlookherrightintheeyesandsayprobablythemosthonestthingI’veeversaidtoanyoneever.“Wedon’tneedalabel,butI’dreallylikeone.”
Shefrowns.“Ilikeyou.Youknowthat,right?”
Ishrug.
“Welikeeachother,right?”sheasks,thistimeconfusionlacingthroughhervoice.
“Yeah,but—”
Shetakesmyhandandleadsmebehindthebleachers,awayfromanybody’spryingeyes.“What’sgoingon?Ithoughtweweregood.”
“Wewere,”Isay.“Weare.Ijust…”Ishakemyhead.MaybeI’mbeingselfish.MaybeI’mbeingunreasonableforwantingmore.ShouldsneakingaroundschoolandhavingsleepoversafterDylangoestobedbeenough?
Rubyleansforward,kissingthewordsaway,andthenrestsherforeheadagainstmine.“Aslongaswe’regood,let’snotworryabouttherest,yeah?”
“Yeah,”Isay,slippingunderherarmanddartingofftotrack.
AndIwishImeantit.
???
Rubystaysforpracticeandevengivesmearidetothecenterafter.WebothvaliantlytrytopretendIneversaidanything.Ruby’sprobablyhopingtoavoidtheconversationaltogether,andI’mwishingIneverstarteditinthefirstplace.
IshouldbehappywithwhatIhave.Atleastthat’swhatItellmyselfoverandoverandoveragain.Webothsmilewhenwekissgoodbye,butitfeelsemptysomehow.
Mybrotherpicksmeuponhiswayhomeaftermyshiftandtellsmethere’ssomethingwaitingformeathome.WhenItrytopry,hejustsmilesandsays,“It’sasurprise.”Ihopeit’sRuby,butIknowshehastoteachacoupleclassestonightandthenhasanotherpracticesessionwithhercoach.I’msureshe’llbefriedbythetimeshegetsdone.
WhateverIthoughtitcouldbe,Ididnotexpectthesurprisetobemyparentsstandinginthekitchen,fourdaysearlyfortheirnextvisit.They’reunpackingbagsoftakeoutfoodlikethisisbusinessasusual,butthesuitcasesinthelivingroomsuggestthisisn’tjustoneofourusualdinners.
“Surprise!”mymomshouts,rushingovertopullmeintoahug.Shesqueezesmetight,andwhenthescentofherperfumedriftsintomynose,ithitsmehowmuchI’vereallymissedher.ShesmellslikesafetyandhomeandMom,andevendailyFaceTimesjustaren’tenough.
Webothwipeatoureyeswithwaterylaughsassheleansbacktolookatme.“Oh,Ineededthat,”shesays.
Mydadletsoutacheery“Hey,sport”ashesetssomeplatesonthetable,politelyignoringthatfactthatI’mablubberingmess.I’vebeensofocusedoneverythinggoingonwithRubyandthecenterandthelawsuitthatIforgotwhatitwasliketojustbeafamilyforaminute.
Thesoundofnailsonthehardwoodflooralertsmetosomeoneelse’spresence,andIturnjustintimetoseemydog,Dusty,barrelingoutofthebathroom,waterdrippingoffhisface.Heprobablyjustdrankhalfthetoiletbowl,butI’msohappytoseehimIdon’tevencare.Hetacklesmewithhisgiantretrieverpaws,andwebothgosprawlingbackwardontothecouch.
“Down,boy,”Momsays.DadgrabsDusty’scollar,tryingandfailingtopullhimoffmeashissniffsandsnortsallovermyneckandface,histailwaggingamileaminute.
“No,he’sfine.He’sagoodboy.”Ilaugh,scratchingmyfingersthroughhisfurandmakinghisbacklegthumpwildlyasIpushusbothup.And,okay,myarmsandlegsarealittlescratchedup,butit’sworthitforsuchanepicdoghugfromDusty,theverybestboy.
“Hemissesyou,”Dadsays.
“Wealldo,”Momadds.
“Takeher,then.”Dylansnorts.“Sheleavesherdamnhaireverywhere,finishesthemilkwithoutsayinganything,andthinkseverypeanutbuttercupinthehousebelongstoher.”
Istickoutmytongueathisgrumbling,andmydadpretendstobeannoyed.
“Damnkids,alwaysfighting,”hesays,whichearnshimawhaponthebackofhisheadfrommymom.
“What’swiththesuitcases?”IaskonceDustyditchesmeforaKongtoymybrotherhashelpfullyfilledwithpeanutbutter.
“Doweneedanexcusetovisitourkidsforafewdays?”Momasks,andIlookstrickenbecausethatwasn’twhatIwasimplying.
“No,thatactuallysoundsincredible.Netflixdroppedlikethreenewrom-comsjustsinceI’vebeenhere,sowehavemajorTVtimetocatchupon.”Ipulloutthechairacrossfromherandstartshovelingfoodontomyplate.“Youjustdidn’tmentionitonthegrouptext.”
“Musthavebeenontheothergrouptext.”Shewinks.
“Whatothergrouptext?”Iask,soundingutterlyscandalized.
“Theonethat’sjustusandyourbrother,”Dadsays.“Wherehewarnsushedyedyourhairpinkandwemakesecretplanstocomevisitforaweek,nodoubtthwartingtonight’sattempttosneakyourgirlfriendin—whichyouthinkDylandoesn’tknowabout,buthedoes,andsodowe.”
“Ohmygod,Dyl!”Ishout.
Hejustshrugsandgrabsaplate.“I’veneverraisedakid!Idon’tknowifyou’reallowedtohavesecretgirlfriendsleepovers!WhatwasIsupposedtodo?Guess?”
“You’reweren’tsupposedtoaskMomandDad!”
“Well,Icouldn’taskyou!”
Igroan.“Howlonghaveyouknown?”
“It’saneight-hundred-square-footapartment,Morgan,andyou’reaboutassubtleasanelephantwhenyouopenthefrontdoorinthemiddleofthenight.”
“Whatthe—”
“Kids,”Dadsaysinhissternnomorefightingvoice.
“Noweat,”Momsays,pickingupherfork.Webothshutupanddoaswe’retold,butImakeitapointtoelbowDylantwiceasIreachforanapkin.
“Areyouheretogroundmeorsomething?”Iaskonceeveryonehashadachancetodigin.
“No,”Dadsays.“Notreallyanypointtothat,sinceyou’llbeleavingforcollegesoonanyway.Butwedowanttomeetthisgirl,andwe’llallbehavingaserioustalkaboutboundariesandappropriatebehaviorwhenyou’relivinginsomeoneelse’shouse.”
“Youdon’twantRubytocomeover?”IaskDylan.“Ithoughtyoulikedher.”
“No,she’sfine,”hesays,rubbinghisforehead.“Idon’tcareifyoucomeheretobangorwhatever,butIdon’twanttohearit,andIdon’twanttowakeuptothefrontdoorslammingwhenshesneaksoutatfiveeverymorning.That’sall.”
Mydadchokesonsomeofhisrice,andmymompatshisback.“Armsaboveyourhead,honey,”shesays,andthenturnstowardme.“ImayhaveputitalittlemoreeloquentlythanDylandid,butyes,yourfatherandIrecognizethatyou’realmosteighteen,andwetrustyoutomakegooddecisions.Ifyouwantyourgirlfriendtospendthenight,youneedtoaskDylanfirstandberespectfulaboutit.AndyourfatherandIbothhopeyou’repracticingsafesex.Ifyouhaveanyquestions…”
And,ohmygod.Ohmygod.Pleaseletmedisappearintothispileofbeeflomein.Please,god.Please.It’sallIask.“Justtobeclear,we’renot,”Imumble.
“You’renotpracticingsafesex?”Momsays.“Justbecauseyou’rebothwomen—”
And,ohmygod.Ohmygod.Makeitstop.
“No,Imeanwe’renot…”Isayslightlylouder.“We’renot…Wedon’tdothatwhenshesleepsover.Wejusthangout.”Threesetsofeyebrowsraiseinunison.“Fine,okay,wemakeout!Isthatwhatyouwantmetosay?Butwehaven’tgonefurtherthanthat.Hermomworksnights,andhermom’slive-inboyfriendisacreep,andthat’swhyshesleepshereallthetime.We’renot,like,constantly…youknow?”Istabmyforkintomyfood,mycheeksgoingbrightredastherestofthetableeruptsintolaughter.
“Wow,TMI,”mybrothersays.
“Shutup,Dylan!”HehowlswhenIkickhimunderthetable.
“Look,ifRubyneedsaplacetocrash,Idon’tcareifshecomesover,”hesays.“ButIwanttoknowshe’sheresoI’mnotwalkingaroundinmyratty-assboxerswhenthere’sarandomgirllurkingaroundtheapartment,okay?”
Isnort.“I’dpersonallylikeitifyouneverwalkedaroundinyourboxers.”
“AndI’dlikeitifIdidn’tknowwhatitsoundedlikewhenmylittlesister—”
“Okay!”Dadpipesup.“MovingonbeforeIhavetoshovethesechopsticksintomyearssoIdon’thavetohearwhatevertheendofthatsentenceis.”
MomandDadexchangealook.Hegivesheralittlenod,andshesighs.“Thereareotherreasonswe’rehere,Morgan,”shesays.
“Besidestraumatizingmeforlife?”
“Yes,”shesays,andhersomberlookwipesthesmilerightoffmyface.
“Okay?What’sup?”Iglanceatmybrother,buthe’sstaringdownathisplate.Hedoesn’tevenlookupwhenInudgehisankle.
“Well,forone,thereasonwehavesuitcasesisbecausewe’restayingstraightthroughforyourmeetthisweekend,”shesays.
“Mymeet?”Iask,andshesmiles.
“Yes,yourfirstonewiththenewteam.”
“Ohmygod!Thewaiverwentthrough?”Inearlyknockovermyglassinarushtohugher.“Icanreallycompete?”
“Yes,”mymomsays,bothofoureyestearingup.
“Ican’tbelieveit.Wedidit!St.Mary’scaved!”
“Beth,”mydadsays,reachingoverandsqueezingmymom’shand.“Tellhertherest.”
Ishiftmygazebetweenthem,themoodofthetablegrowingseriousagainasIsitbackdown.
“Andalso…”Shetakesadeepbreath.“YourfatherandIhavedecidedtodropthecaseagainstSt.Mary’s.”
“What?Why?”
“Ourlawyersaretellingusitwouldbeexceedinglydifficulttowinatthispoint.It’saprivateschool,areligiousschool—theycouldtakeitallthewaytotheSupremeCourt.Andwiththewaythiscountryisrightnow…”Shetrailsoff.
“It’scostingusalotofmoneytokeepthisgoing,sport,”Dadsays.“Wepickedupsomesteamforalittlewhileafterthenewsinterviews,butpeoplehavemovedon,andthesponsorswehadbeforecan’tcommitwitheverythingstackedagainstuslikethis.It’smoneybetterspentonyourfuture.”
“AndSt.Mary’shasalotofveryinfluentialdonorssupportingthem.Wedidn’treallyhaveachoice,”Momadds.“Butthegoodnewsisthat,inexchangeforusdroppingthelawsuit,theydroppedtheirpetitiontohaveyoubannedforunsportsmanlikeconductandretractedtheirclaimwiththeathleticboardthatyouwereinvolvedinanysortofrecruitingscheme.They’reevensendingafavorablereporttoyournewcoach,andshecansendthatontothecollegessowecanputthisallbehindus.Iknowyou’redisappointed,honey,butweaccomplishedthemostimportantthingforyou—”
“Whataboutthekidsthatcomeafterme?”Iask,andtheylookdown.“Whataboutthequeerkidsatthatschoolrightnow?Youknowthey’rethere.Youevenknowwhosomeofthemare!Howcouldyoujustgiveup?”
Dadtakesadeepbreath,likehe’sdecidinghowmuchtosay.
“What?”Iask.“Whatelsearen’tyoutellingme?”
“Wedidthinkabouttheotherkids,”Dadsays.“Weevenreachedouttotheirparentstotrytoturnitintoaclass-actionlawsuitwhenthingsstartedtogettooexpensive,buttheydidn’twantto.Thesadtruthofitisthateveryonejustwantstokeeptheirheadsdownuntilgraduation.Nooneelsewantedtoputtheirnecksontheline.I’msorry.Iknowthisisn’ttheoutcomewewerehopingfor,but—”
“I’mnothungryanymore.”Ishovemyplateawayandstormoffdownthehall.
Islammybedroomdoorandthrowmyselfonthebed,shovingapillowovermyheadandhopingthefluffwillatleastmufflemyscream.
Mydoorclicksopen,andIdragthepillowdown,readytoshoutatmyparentstogetout.Exceptit’sDylan,andhe’sgotDustywithhim.
“Hey,”hesays,shuttingthedoorbehindhimasmydogjumpsupontomybed.“I’msorry.Iknowhowmuchthissucks.”
IhugDustytight,buryingmyfaceinhisfur.“No,youreallydon’t.”
Dylandragshishandthroughhishairandthensitsbesidemeonthebed.“Maybeyou’reright.I’vehaditcomparativelyeasy—straightwhiteguyandall.”Hesighs.“ButIhavetotellyousomething,andyouhavetoswearnottotellMomandDadthatItoldyou.”
“What?”Iask,concerndullingtheedgesofmyangeralittle.
“Iknowtheymadeitseemlikethiswasachoicetheymade,butitreallywasn’t.”
“Butthey—”
“Theyalmostlostthehousebecauseofit.Theyremortgagedittogetmoremoneyoutforthelawyerfeesandstuff.Dad’spracticetoo.Iactuallycoveredthehousepaymentlastmonthwhenitwasreallybad.Iknowit’sridiculouslyunfairthattheyhadtodothat,andthatyouhadtogothroughitatall—butyougotoutofthesituationrelativelyunscathed,whiletheywerestillsinkingfast.”
Ishakemyhead.“Butisn’tthereanyotherway?Anythingatall?”
“TheyeventriedtogettheACLUinvolved.Trustme,they’veexploredeveryavenuehere.”
Isigh.“Great,soeventheACLUwouldn’ttouchthis?”
“Whoknows?”Dylanrunshishandsthroughhishair.“Idoubtthey’reevenawareofityet.Apparently,itcantakeforeverforapplicationstobereviewedbecausetheygetsomanyeveryday.MomandDadcouldn’taffordtowaitanylonger.Morgan,youhavetoletthemoffthehook.Theguiltiskillingthem,buttheyweregoingtoloseeverythingiftheykeptfighting.Andyoucouldhavetoo.Ifyoulosethatscholarship,withthestateoftheirfinancesrightnow…”
Iswallowhard.Idon’tknowwhattodowiththisinformation.Ialwaysthoughtofmyparentsasinvincible.Theideathattheysanksomuchintothisthattheyhadtoborrowmoneyfrommybrothermakesmefeelalittlesick.
“Iguess…”Isay,gentlypettingDusty.“IguessIcouldkeeppushingforchangeinotherways.IalreadytalkedtoIzzieaboutwantingtodomore.Thatwayit’snotreallyover.It’sjustsortofpausedwhileIfindanewangle.”
“Yeah.”Hesmiles,relieved.“Thatsoundslikeagreatidea.Andinthemeantime,canwejustbegladyouhaveasafenewschoolandagirlfriendwhoseemswaytoocoolforyou?”
“Hey!”
Hesmiles.“Butseriously,canthatbeenough,justfornow?”
“Ijustfeellikesuchasellout.”
“You’renot.”
“Dylan—”Myphonebuzzes,cuttingoffthemoment,andDustyhopsoffmybedandscratchesatthedoor.
“IsthatRuby?”heasks,gettingupandopeningthedoorforDusty.
“Yeah.”
“Inviteherover,”hesays.“AndpleasetalktoMomandDad.”
“Iwill,”Isay,notsurewhichI’magreeingto.Maybeboth.
???
Rubysuddenlyandmysteriouslycannotmakeitovertomyhousetheentireweekthatmyparentsarethere.Shebegsoff,blaminghomeworkandlate-nightpageantcoachingsessions,andItrynottoletitbotherme.
ShedoesshowuptomymeetonFridaynight,though.Myfirstofficialhomemeetatthenewschool,onewhereI’mfinallynotavolunteerbutanactualparticipant.
Shesnagsmeunderneaththebleachersandgivesmeaperfectlyamazinggood-luckkissbeforemyrace.Ifmyparentswonderwhymylipsaresuddenlythesameshadeofpinkasthelipstickonthegirlsittingintherowbehindthem,theydon’task.IftheywonderwhysheshoutstheloudestwhenIwinthe800andwhenwewinthe4×4,theydon’taskthateither.
Rubytextsmeafterward,sentimentalandproud,fromthequietsafetyofhercarintheparkinglot.Shetellsmeshelovedseeingmerace,andthatI’mthe“bestsecret”she’severhad.AndIconvincemyselfthatbeingher“bestsecret”feelsgood,thattheacheinmychestdoesn’tmeananything.Thatwe’refine,great,even.Thatwe’rejustrestingupforthenextbattle.31
RUBY
“Wherehaveyoubeen?”Mymother’svoicecutsthroughmyhappyhazebeforeI’veevenmadeitallthewaythroughthefrontdoor.
WatchingMorganrun?Fuckingawesome.Cominghomeafter?Killmenow.
“Well?”shesays,herhandsonherhips.
“Youscaredme.”ThedogsyipandpawatmewhileIsetmycarkeysonthecounter.“Whatareyoudoinghome?Don’tyouhavework?”
“Iaskedyouaquestionfirst.Where’veyoubeen,RubyGold?”Ihatewhensheusesmymiddlename.Hateitwithapassion.SheclaimsshenamedmethatbecauseIwassoprecioustoher.Right.“Anddon’tsayyouwerewiththatlacrosseboy,becauseIsawhimdowntheroadwithMarcustonight,andyouweren’tthere.”
“Nowhere,”Ianswer,thehaironmyneckpricklingoverthefactthatshe’sbeencheckinguponme.“Justaround.Butwhyareyoustillhere?”
Sheperchesherselfontheedgeofherrecliner,whereChuckisasleep,theTVstillblaringFoxNews.There’salitcigaretteinhishand,andshegrabsitandstubsitoutallnonchalant.Likeit’snotabigdealhecould’veburnedthewholeplacedown.
“I’mtakingalittletimeoff,”Momsays,juttingoutherchin,daringmetoquestionher.Idon’tbother.I’vebeenonthisearthlongenoughtoknowthat“takingalittletimeoff”meansshegotfiredorlaidoffagain.
Isighandheadformyroom,trailedbythedogs.Theirincessantbarkingaddstomyfrustration.Momfollowsafter,herfootcatchingmydoorwhenItrytoshutit.
“Don’tyouwalkawayfromme,girl.”
“Whatwasitthistime?Skipworktoomuchtohangoutwithyourwaste-caseboyfriend?”Iimmediatelyregretsayingit.It’srarelyherfaultwhenthishappens.She’llworkherselftotheboneifshehasto.It’sjustthenatureofthebusiness.Thereareonlysomanycleaningcontractstogoaround,whichmeansshehastokeepswitchingagenciesforhours.Andwhenthingsdryup,thelastoneinisthefirstoneout.Momisalwaysthelastoneinthesedays.
“Whatisthematterwithyou?”sheasks,raisinghervoiceenoughtotellmeshemeansit.
“WhereshouldIstart?”Isnap.“Wehavenomoney,andnowyoudon’tevenhaveajob!”AndIdon’tknowwhyIcan’tstop.I’mpokingthebeartonight,butsomethingaboutsittingonerowbehindMorgan’sperfectlyperfectfamilytodayhasmeriledup.
Imeethereyesjustintimeforherpalmtoconnectwithmycheek.“Don’tyoudaretalktomelikethat.”
Iputmyhandtomycheek,mynostrilsflaringwithanger.“Thatfuckinghurt.”
“Sodowords.”Shewalkstomycloset,flipsthroughthedresses,andthenflingsoneatme.Itlandswithathumpandarustleonmybed.“DoyouknowwhatIgothroughjustsoyoucanhavethekindofchancesthatIneverdid?HowmuchIsacrifice?”
“Ineveraskedyou—”
“I’myourmother.It’smyjob.”Herwholedemeanorchangesthen,asshemorphsbackintomysweet,tiredmom,herbeauty-queensmileadorningherface.“Putthaton,baby,Iwanttoseeyouwalk.”
AndIhateit.Ihatethatsheslapsmeonesecondandcallsme“baby”thenext.IhatehowbadIwishIcouldmakeherhappy,howeveryangrywordfeelslikemyfault.
“Okay,”Isaysoftly,eventhoughI’mexhausted.Thisisthequickestwaytoendtheargument,theonlywayreally.
Mymomhelpsmeintomydress—theeveninggownhasalwaysbeenherfavoritepart—andthenpullsoutmyponytail.Shegrabsoneofmybrushesoffmydresserandslowlyrunsitthroughmyhair.“Whatwereyoureallyuptotonight?”sheasksmeagain,hergriptighteningjustslightly.
“IwasfixingMrs.Williams’scar.”Notacompletelie.Ididstopthereafterthemeet.
“IwentdownthereatsixlookingforyouafterIsawtheboysdriveby.Shesaidyouhadn’tbeenthereyetbecauseyouwerewatchingsomerunningthing.”
“Ohyeah,Istoppedatthetrackmeetonmywaytoherhouse.Iforgot.”
“Everlydoesn’trun,doesshe?IknowTylerplayslacrosse.”
Iswallowhard.“No,theyweren’tthere.”Iturntolookather.“Ijustthoughtitwouldbecooltocheckitout.I’veneverbeentoone.Haveyou?Wecouldbothgosometime.Itmightbefun.”
Momlooksmestraightintheeye,aslightfrownpullingatherlips.“Iheardarumoraboutyoutoday,babygirl,anditbetternotbetrue.”
Thisisbad.Thisissobad.
“Whatdidyouhear?”
Shesetsdownthebrush,takinghertimebeforeanswering.“Ithinkyouknow,andIthinkithassomethingtodowithwhyyouwereatthattrackmeettoday.”Shesearchesmyeyeslikeshe’slookingforananswerorwaitingformetobreak.Miraculously,Idoneither.“Iwillnothaveanothersituationlikewedidwithyourlittlepageantfriend.Doyouunderstand?”Inod.“Nowputyourshoesonandcomeout,”shesays,andstormsdownthehall.
Shit.
Shit!IfsomeoneknowsaboutmeandMorgan,ifsomeonesaidsomethinganditgotbacktomymom…ButIcan’tworryaboutthatrightnow.There’snotime.Notwhenshe’slikethis.
Myshoeswaitformeinthecloset,twoperfect,shinyremindersofhowI’mnotlivinguptomymom’sexpectations.Istrapmyfeetintothem,thememoryofMorgan’swinstodayturningtoashinmymouth.Itwasarisk.Astupidrisk.WhydidIgo?
Iallowmyselfonequickminutetowallow,thenIstandtall,poisedandpageantready.Thestingofmymother’shandstillfreshonmycheek.32
MORGAN
RubyandEverlyarearguingwhenIwalkintoschool.Imakeamentalnotetoaskheraboutitlater,givingthemawideberthasIheadtomylocker.RubyhashintedthatEverlyknowsaboutus,butsincewe’vestillneverbeenformallyintroduced,itdoesn’tfeellikeit’smyplacetogocalmthingsdownbetweenthem.
Rubywasweirdallweekend,distant.Shestilldidn’tcomeover,notevenaftermyparentsleft.I’vebeensortoffreakingoutthatitwassomethingIdid.ButseeingRubyandEverlyfighting…Maybethishasnothingtodowithme,orus,atall.Maybeanxietyfromtherestofherlifeistemporarilybleedingintoour…well,whateverwehave.Iputonahappyfaceandpretenditdoesn’tbothermehowmuchshecompartmentalizesallofherrelationships.
Rubyignoresmeinfourthperiod.Butthenshedragsmeintothejanitor’sclosetwhenI’mwalkingbyduringsixth.Sixthismyfreeperiod,butshehasEnglish,andIknowshecan’taffordtobeskippingit.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Ihalflaugh,expectinghertokissmeorsaysomethingalongthelinesofIcouldn’twaittoseeyou.Butherfaceissad,pinchedsomehow,likeshehasabadtasteinhermouthshecan’tquiteshake.
“Weneedtotalk,”shesays,andmystomachdrops.Iknowfromexperiencethatweneedtotalkoftendirectlyprecedesthiswasamistake,whichisthenswiftlyfollowedbyIdon’tthinkIlikegirlsafterall
Iwrapmyarmsaroundmyself,bracingfortheworst.“About?”
“Therearerumors.Aboutus,”shesays,lookingabsolutelypanickednow.
“Whatkindofrumors?”
“Youknowwhatkindofrumors,”Rubysays,pullingoutherponytailjusttoputitbackupagain.“Haveyoutoldanyone?Youdidn’t,right?”
“Huh?”MybrainisstilltryingtoprocessthefactthatImightnotbegettingdumpedafterall,butthisdoesn’tsoundgoodeither.
“Haveyoutoldanyoneaboutus?Anyone?BecauseEverlyistheonlypersonwhoknewfromme,andsheswearsonherlifethatshedidn’ttellanyone.”Rubytakesashakybreath.Isshegoingtocry?“ButEverlysaidsheheardstuffonherownanddidherbesttoshootitdownsoIwouldn’tfreakout.Ifitwasn’ther,wasityou?Youwouldn’tdothat,right?Iknowthatyouknowhowimportantthisis.I’manassholeforevenasking,butIneedtohearit.Youdidn’ttellanyone,right?Noonebesidesyourbrotherknows?”
Ishiftundertheweightofherpleadinglook.“Imean,notreally.”
Rubylookssoshocked,sohurt,myheadspins.“Not…really?Notreally?!”
“Acoupleofmyfriends,buttheywouldn’t—”
“JesusChrist,”shesays,turningawayfromme.“JesusChrist.Who?”
“AcouplefriendsfromPrideClub.That’sit.Andtheywouldneversayanything.Ipromise.”
“Whywouldyoudothat?Youknew!YouknewI…”She’spracticallyvibrating.Withanger?Anxiety?Itakeasteptowardher,intendingtowrapherinahug,butshedartsaway.“Whodidyoutell,Morgan?Specifically.Ineedtoknow.”
“Nobody,really.Just,like,Aaron—”
“Aaron?MyneighborAaron?Fuck.Whoelse?”
Ilookaway.“Idon’tknow.Anika,Drew,andBrennanweretheretoo,buttheywouldnevertellasoulaboutus.”
“Whatdidyoutellthemaboutme?Whatrightdidyouhave?”
“Ididn’ttellthemaboutyou;Itoldthemaboutus.It’snotthesamething!It’snotlikeIoutedyouorsomething!”
“Yes,youdid!”shesays,tearswellingupinhereyes.
“Ididn’t.Iswear.Ijusttoldthemhowhappyyoumademe,and…Youhavetounderstand.They’remyfriends.AmIjustsupposedtopretendthatthebestthinginmylifeisn’thappening?That’snotfair.”
“Iamnotyourbestthing!”Rubyshouts,puttingherhandsonherheadwithagroan.
“Idon’tunderstandwhattheproblem—”
“Theproblemisthatpeoplearestartingtotalkaboutuslikewe’redatingorsomething!”
“Oh.”Iexhalehard,herwordspunchingtheairrightoutofme.Ithoughtweweredating.
“Yeah,‘oh,’”shesays,misunderstanding.“Youknewthiswasasecret.Thiswasforusandnotforanyoneelse!”
“No,right.Igotit,”Isay,blinkingbacktears.“Crystalclear.Messagereceived.”
Rubyreachesforme,andnowit’smyturntomoveaway.“Don’tbelikethat.”
Igulpdownanangrybreath.“Idon’twantyoutouchmerightnow,okay?”
“Fine.”Shedropsherhand.“Ithoughtwewereonthesamepagewithallofthis.”
Ipawatmycheeks,wishingtheyweren’twet.“Yeah,IguessIjustmisunderstood.”
“Whatdoyouthink‘secret’means,Morgan?Becauseit’snottellingourbusinesstoanyonewhowilllisten.”
“Mylifeisnotasecret,”Isay,alittlelouder,notevencaringwhohearsontheothersideofthedoor.“AndsorryIgotthewrongideaaboutusdatingfromtheflowersandtheconstantkissingand,youknow,thedate.Andspeakingofkissing,didyoueverthinkthatmaybeIdon’tjustwanttodothatwhenwe’realoneanymore?ThatmaybeIwanttokissmygirlfriendafterwinningaracelikeeveryoneelsekisseswhoeverthey’redating,youknow,withouthidingunderthebleacherslikewe’recommittingacrime?”
“Youknowwecan’t—”
“Yeah,nowIdo.Wecan’tdoanyofthat.Ever.”Ipushpasthertothedoor.“Becauseitturnsout,Idon’thaveagirlfriend.Ijusthaveasecret.”
???
AaronpopsinwhileI’msittinginthepeercounselingroom,myheadonthetableandmyheartonthefloor.BecauseRubyhasn’ttextedortriedtoreachouttomeatallsinceourfight,andhonestly,Idon’tevenknowifshewill.
IthurtswaymorethanIwasexpecting.
“Hey,”hesays,knockingonthedoorframe.“Youokay?”
“Yeah,I’mfine,”Ilie.Butwhenhejuststandsthere,Iadd,“Idon’twanttotalkaboutit.”
“Okay,”hesays.“Ijustwantedtomakesureyouwerestillupforyourappointment.”
“Danny’sherealready?”Iglanceattheclock.Allofthiswallowingmademelosetrackoftime.
“Ifit’sabadnight,I’lldoit.Wejustneedtheroom.”
“No,I’mgood.Sendhimin.”IsitupalittlestraighterandfixmyT-shirt.Maybehelpinghimwithhisstuffwillmakemefeelbetter,oratleasthelpmepassthetimebetweennowand,Idon’tknow,eternity?
Dannyappearsinthedoorwayafewsecondslater.He’sinanoversizedhoodie,withthehoodpulledallthewayup.Therearesunglassesinhishand.It’dbecomicalhowincognitohewastryingtobe,ifhedidn’tlooksomiserable.
“Hey,”Isay,andshovethetrayofcookiesIzziealwaysleavesouttowardhim.Hegrabsasugarcookieandeyesmewarily.
“Youlooklikecrap.”
“Thanks,youtoo.”
Wow,I’mreallynailingthispeercounselorthingtoday.
Igivehimaminutetofinishhiscookie,butwhenhedoesn’tsayanythingelse,Iprodhimalittle.“Didyouwanttotalkaboutanythinginparticular?Oristhisjustasocialcall?”
“Idon’tknow,”hesays,wipinghislips,hiskneealreadybouncing.We’vebeenlockedinthisdanceforawhilenow,talkingaboutsurface-levelfearswhenIcantellthere’ssomethingmuchbiggerchurningunderneathitall.
“Whatpositiondoyouplayagain?”
“Why?”Hesnapshiseyestomine.“Yousuddenlylikefootball?”
“Some.IlikethePatriotsandallthat.”
“ThePatriotssuck,”hesays.
“Theyhateus’causetheyain’tus,right?”
“No,wehatethembecausethey’reevilandhorrible.”
“AndIguesstheotherteamsareallangels?”
Dannyshrugsandtakesanothercookie.Iwaitforhimtosaymore,shiftinginmyseat.
“I’mawidereceiver,”hefinallysays.
“Letmeguess.You’reinlovewithwho?Thequarterback?”
“No.”Helooksoffended.
“Anotherwidereceiver?”
Helooksdown,grumblingtohimself,andsnatchesanothercookie.
“Anotherwidereceiveritis.”Iofferhimasympatheticsmile.
“Howdidyouknow?”
“BecauseyoulookasmiserableasIdotoday,andIthinkonlylovecandothattoyou.”
“Holycrap,that’sdark.”
“Areyougoingtotellmethedealormakemekeepguessing?”
Hesighs.“You’reveryannoying.”
“Ipridemyselfonit,”Isay.“Intra-teamdatingcanbeanightmare.”
“Yeah,Iguessyouspeakfromexperience.Youknow,IreallythoughtyouwereagayurbanlegenduntilIsawyouonthenews.”
“Nope.”Ilaugh.“But,youaretwo-thirdsright.”
Heraiseshiseyebrows.
“The‘gay’and‘legend’parts,obviously,”Isay,fanningmyself.
Hescoffsandtriestohideasmallsmile.“Yikes.”
“Enoughaboutme,though.What’syourdamage?Areyoutwotogether?Oristhis,like,crushingfromafar?”
“You’repushytoo,”hesays.“Annoyingandpushy.”
“That’swhytheypaymethebigbucks.”
“Theypayyouforthis?”Helooksskeptical.
“Imean,no,I’mavolunteer.”Igrabacookieofmyown.“Areyougoingtoanswerthequestionnow,though?”
Dannyleansbackinhischair.“Keepguessing.It’samusing.”
“You’retogether?”
Henods.
“Andsomeonefoundyoutwooutandiscausingproblems?”
Heshakeshishead.
“You’rebothout,andyouliveinthegay-friendliesttownonearth,andeverythingisrosessinceourlasttalk?”
Heshakeshisheadagain.
“You’retheonlyonewho’sout?”
Anotherheadshake.
“He’sashittyboyfriend?”
Helaughsandshakeshisheadhardatthatone.
“You’retheshittyboyfriend?”
“No.”Hesmiles.“We’rebothgoodforeachother.”
“Igiveup.I’mstumped.What’sgotyoudrivingninetyminutestothiscentertoseeapeercounselor?”
Hetapshisfingersonthetableandletsoutalongsigh.“Ididn’tcomeoutyet.ButIdidtellhimthatIwanttobeout,andhesaidhedoesn’t.Andeversince,it’sbeenlike…”Hepauses.“It’sfeltlikeI’msuffocatingorsomething.I’minitwithhim,reallyinit,butnobodycanknow.It’smessedup.”
And,oh,thosewordsdropintomylaplikeapileofbricks.AllthehurtandfrustrationIfeelfromRubyandourargumentflaresupfreshinsideme.“It’sbeyondmessedup.It’scompleteanduttergarbage.”
“Excuseme?”
“Ifyou’rebothinlovewitheachotherandyouhaveagoodrelationship,thenwhyshouldn’tyoushoutitfromtherooftops?Inmyopinion,she’snotreallytakingyourfeelingsintoaccountatall.She’smanipulatingyou.It’snotfair.”
“He,”hesays.
“What?”
“Yousaid‘she.’”
Iwaveitoff.“YouknewwhatImeant.Yourboyfriendshouldwantpeopletoknowthatyou’reinlove.It’spartofbeinginlove.”
“Hesaysit’snotthatsimple.”
“Thenscrewhim.Don’tletsomeonetrapinyouinacloset,literallyorfiguratively.Becauseitsucks,anditdoesn’tgetanybetterthelongeritgoeson.Trustme,Iknowallaboutthattoo.”
Heblowsoutabreath,hischeekspuffingoutasheconsiderswhatIsaid.“Itiscomplicated,though.Webothhaveanotheryearofhighschool;we’reonlyjuniors.Idon’tcarewhathappenstome;I’mnotsomefootballsuperstar.Buthecouldbe.He’sbeingscoutedbycollegesalready.Hecouldgetascholarship,gopro,even.”
“Andwhat,thenyou’llbehissecretincollegetoo?Ifyoutwoevenmakeitthatfarwithallthesneakingaroundandlying.”
“Hey!”
“Yourperfectboyfriendneedstoearnthatlabel.Andyouneedtohavesometoughconversationswithhim.Ifyoumakeeachotherhappy,whydoeswhatanyoneelsethinksmatter?Theywon’tkickhimofftheteamforbeinggay.”
“Didn’tthatliterallyhappentoyou?Wewouldberiskingeverythingifwecameout.I’mready,but—”
“Thenwe’llsuethem.Andwe’llsuethecolleges.Andwe’llsuetheentirefriggin’NFLifwehaveto.Butyou’recomingout.Andyourrelationshipisnotgoingtobeasecretforonemoresecond!”
Aknockonthedoorframesnapsmyattention,andIseeIzziestandingtherewithatightsmile.“Morgan,canIseeyouforamoment?”
“I’minthemiddleof—”
“No,Iknow,”shesays.“I’mgoingtohaveAaroncomeintofinishup.Ijustneedtoborrowyouforaminute.”
“Okay.”IstandupslowlyandlookatDanny.“I’llbebackassoonasIcan.”
“Maybedon’tbother.”Helookspissed.
IopenmymouthandthenshutitbeforefollowingIzzietoheroffice.
“Haveaseat,”shesaysonceshe’sbehindherdesk.
“What’shappeningrightnow?”Isitdownslowly.“I’veneverseenyouinterruptapeercounselingsessionbefore.”
“Iseverythingokay,Morgan?”
“Yes.”
“Itseemslikeyou’realittleonedgetoday.”
“I’mfine.”
Shetakesadeepbreath.“Morgan,yousuggestedsuingtheNFLasaviableoptiontohelpDannywithhisrelationship.”
That’safairpoint.“Okay,maybeI’mnotcompletelyfine.”
“Doyouwanttotalkaboutit?”
“Notreally,”Isay.“CanIjustgetbacktowork?”
“Unfortunately,Ihavesomerealconcernsaboutyourabilitytopeercounselrightnow.It’sfineifyoudon’twanttoconfideinme.That’swhywehaveapeercounselingprogramhereinthefirstplace.ButIwouldloveitifyouwould—”
“YouthinkIneedtherapy?YouthinkI’mscrewedup?”
“Peercounselingisabouttalkingthingsoutandfindingsolutionsthatwork.Everyonecouldbenefitfromthat.It’snotanysortofjudgmentaboutyourmentalhealth.Ijustwanttomakesurethatyouhavethesupportyouneed.”
“Iamthepeercounselor.Peercounselorsdon’tgetcounseling.”
“Actually,mostofthemdo.It’snevermeanttobeaone-waystreet,andwitheverythingyou’vehadonyourplaterecently,Ithinkitcouldreallydoyousomegood.”
“Thankyouforyourconcern,butI’vegotthingsundercontrol.Really.CanIgetbackinthere?DannyandIhavemadealotofheadway,so—”
“I’mafraidnot,”shesays,givingmeasadsmile.“YourbehaviortodaycrossedsomelinesthatI’mreallynotcomfortablewith.”
“Ohmygod,areyoufiringme?”Iask,jumpingoutofmyseat.“AmIgettingfiredfromavolunteerposition?”
“No,Morgan.Ofcoursenot.Istillthinkyou’reanassettothiscenter.Butforthetimebeing,I’mgoingtotakeyououtofthepeercounselorprogram.”
“Seriously?”IfeellikeI’mgoingtosnap.FirstIlostthelawsuit.ThenIlostRuby.AndnowI’mlosingtheonlythingthatactuallyletsmestillfeellikeI’mmakingadifferenceatall.
“Iknowhowmuchyouenjoyyourrolehere,andIhaveotherthingsforyoutodo,butrightnowI’mnotconvincedyouhavetheemotionalspacetobegivingtootherpeople.”
“Ido.Ihaveallthespace.Toomuchspace.Please.Ineedthis.”
“Aarontoldmeabouttheoutcomeofyourlawsuitandhowmuchyou’vebeenstrugglingwiththat.Youhavealotgoingonoutsideofthecenter,andIcareaboutyoutoomuchtoriskyouburningout.Itwouldbeirresponsibleofmetoletyoutakeonmore.”
“I’mnot—”
“Wecanreevaluatethisinafewweeks,butfornowmydecisionstands.I’dloveforyoutostayoninanothercapacity,ifyou’reopentoit.Ifyou’dliketoleaveearlytoday,ortakesometimetothinkaboutit,Iunderstand.”
Isitthereforasecond,mouthopen,foreheadscrunched,lettingherwordssinkdeepintomyskin,wheretheycanminglewithallmyotherfailures.
AndthenIsnapmymouthshutbecausethisday,thisdayisnotgoingtobreakme.“Icanstayforalittlewhile.AnikaisdroppingoffsomeofthedonationswithafewoftheHonorSocietykidstonight.I’llhelpgetthemorganized.”
Izziesmiles.“Thatsoundslikeanexcellentidea.”
???
Rubyiswaitingintheparkinglotaftermyshift,leaningagainsthercarunderthestreetlightandlookingtotallyandunfairlykissable.
“Canwetalk?”sheasks.
“Idon’tknow.Canwe?”
“I’msorryaboutearlier.”Shesighs.“Let’sgoforadrive.Figurethisout.”
“Aaron’smyridetoday.He’sjustfinishingupinside,andthenwe’reheadinghome.Ijustcameouttogetsomeair.”
“Atleastletmebringyouhome,then,”Rubypleads.“I’llmakeitquick.Ijustdon’twanttoleavethingsliketheyare.”
“Areyousureyouwantto?”Iask.“Idon’tknowifit’ssmarttobeseeninpublicwithyoursecret.”
“Youknowthat’snotwhatImeant!”shesays,raisinghervoicerightasAaronstepsoutside.ExceptI’mprettysurethatitisexactlywhatshemeant,butokay.
“Iseverythinggoodhere?”Aaronasks.
“No,”Isay,atthesametimethatshesays,“Yes.”
Aaronwalkstowardhiscar,whichhappenstobeontheexactoppositesideofthelotfromRuby’s.“Youstillwantaridehome?”
Inodandfollowhim.
“Please,”Rubysays.“I’mbegginghere.”
Aaronopenshiscardoor,andIwalkalittlefaster.Icandothis.Icanholdmyground.ButwhydoesitfeellikeI’mbeingrippedintwo?
“Morgan,”shesays,andshesoundssopitifulIstop.
AaronwatchesmefromhiscarasIhangmyhead.“Actually,IthinkI’mgoingtocatcharidewithRuby.”
“Yousure?”heasks.ButIknowwhathe’sreallyasking:DoIfeelsafe?DoIneedhishelp?Isthisagoodidea?Andtheanswertoallofthosequestionsisprobablysomehorriblecombinationofyesandno,butI’mnotreadytoconfrontanyofthatrightnow.
“I’mgood.”Isigh.“I’llseeyouinschooltomorrow.”
HeflashesawarninglookatRuby.“Allright,I’llseeyou.”
Ilurchforwardandhughimgoodbyeashestartstogetinside,feelingweirdlyemotionalafterthisnightmaredayfromhell.Hesqueezesmetightandjokinglywhispers,“Saythewordandwe’llrun.”
IforceoutasmileandthenturntofaceRuby.33
RUBY
“Doyoureallywantmetotakeyourighthome?”Iaskwhenwe’vebeendrivingforabit.Aaronwaitedtoleaveuntilafterwedid,andnowhe’sfollowingus,makingsureIgetherhomeokay.Iknowthere’snothingromanticbetweenthem,butitstillmakesmejealous.Iwanttobetheonelookingoutforher,nottheonecatchingglaresfromherfriends.
“Idon’tknow,”shesays.“Yes,Iguess.Whatelseistheretosay?Youmadeyourpointatschool.”
Irubmyforeheadandturnintoherapartmentcomplex.Aaronflasheshislightsoncebutkeepsgoing,andIrelaxalittle.
“I’msorry.IknowIhandleditlikeshitearlier.”Ipassherapartmentaswedrivethroughthecomplex.
“Um…Iliveoverthere.”Morgangesturesbehindus.
“Ithoughtwecouldgotothepondattheedgeofthecomplextotalkalittle.Isthatcool?I’llturnaroundifyouwant.”
“It’sfine,Iguess,”shesays,settlinginagainsttheseat.
Ipullintoaparkingspacenearthepond.Morgan’soutthedoorandheadingdowntothelittlebenchbeforeIevenshutthecaroff.Shesitsnearoneofthesleepingducks,whobarelyevenstirs.Mymomusedtobringmeheretofeedthembackbeforethingswentofftherails.BackwhenIwasstillherlittleprincess.
ThemoonlightglintsoffthegreenwaterasMorganpicksuparockandtossesitintothepond,sendingripplesshiveringacrossit.Itakeadeepbreathandgetoutofmycar.Idon’tknowhowtofixthis,orifIevencan.ButIreallywantto.
“CanIsit?”Iask.
“It’safreecountry,”shesays.“Sortof.Forsome.”
Istandthere,fidgeting.“Idon’tknowifthatmeansyesor…”
Morganhuffsandscootsover,fixinghereyesonthefountainsprayinginthecenter.
“Iunderstandwhyyou’repissed,”Istart.“Youhaveeveryrighttobe—”
Shecutsmeoff.“WhatamItoyou?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Doyouloveme?”
“Jesus,Morgan,”Isay,diggingmyfingersintomyknee.
“Well?”sheasks.
“Doyoualwayshavetopushsohard?I’mtryingtotellyouIdon’twanttobreakup,andyou—”
“Howcanwepossiblybreakupwhenwe’renotevendating?”
Isigh.“YouknowIdon’tdolabels.”
“Do.You.Love.Me?”Morganasks,andIfeellikeI’mgoingtobesick.
Becauseloveis…well,loveisatrap.Loveisgettingknockedupandabandoned.Loveisahandprintonacheekandyourentirechildhoodwrappedintulle.Loveislettingsomeonehavethepowertohurtyouinwaysyouhaven’teventhoughtofyet.
“It’sasimplequestion,”shesays.
“No,it’snot.”
“How?”sheasks,andIdon’tlookup.Ican’t.NotwhentheonlypossibleanswerIcangiveherissomethingI’llneversay.Ican’t
“Morgan…”
“IfImattertoyou,thenanswerme!”
“Ican’t,”Isay,squeezingmyeyesshutathersharpinhale.Itallgoesquietthen.Eventhesoundofthefountaindimsinmyhead,stuckinthattinyvoidofsilencerightbeforeeverythingexplodes.
“Becauseyoudon’t,orbecauseyou’resostuckonnot‘doinglabels.’”Ihearit,thehurtundertheanger,tingeinghervoicewithpain.I’ddoanythingtomakeitstop.Ileaninforakiss—ifshe’djustletmeshowher,I’vebeendesperatelytryingtoshowherfromthestart—butshejerksback.“Stopit.Youcan’tfixthiswithyourbody.”
“Notthatyouevenletmegetthatfar,”Isnap,mytemperflaringfromyetanotheroneofherrejections.
“WhywouldI?”Morganasks,anditfeelslikeIjustgotsuckerpunchedinthemouth.Idon’tknowwhatsheseesinmyface,buthersneerslipsandshegrabsformyhand.“Ididn’tmeanitlike—”
“It’sokay,”Isay,pullingaway.I’musedtopeoplemakingmefeellikeI’mlessthan,makingmefeelunwanted.Justnother.Neverher.
Igetupandwalktotheedgeofthepond,butit’sstillnotenough.Ineedspace.Anescape.Ithinkaboutwalkingstraightthroughthemiddleofitandouttheotherside,notstoppingtillIhittheoceantwostatesaway.Iwonderifeventhatwouldbeenoughspace,ifenoughspacecouldeverexistbetweenmeandthemomentMorganMatthewsrippedmyheartout.
Shestepsupnexttomeandreachesformyhand,butIshoveitintomyjacketpocketbeforeshegetsthechance.
“Ididn’tmeanIwouldn’thavesexwithyousomeday,orthatIdon’twantto,”shesayssoftly.“Whateveryou’rethinkingrightnow,that’snotit,Ipromise.”
Iflickmyeyestohersandthentothepond.
“ButI’veneverdonethatwithanyone,andI’mnotgoingtodoitjusttomakeyoufeelbetterortoendahardconversation.”
Ifaceher,narrowingmyeyes.“Iwouldneverdothattoyou.”
“You’vealreadytried,”Morgansays.“Morethanonce.”
AndIgobacktostaringatthepondbecausewebothknowshe’sright,evenifIwishsheweren’t.
“It’sjustsex.”Ishrug,notevensurewhyI’marguingthepoint.Imaybeanasshole,butI’mnotthatmuchofanasshole.AtleastIdidn’tthinkIwas
“Nottome,”shesays,andIsnapmyeyestohers.“I’mnotgoingtolosemyvirginitytosomeonewho…”Shetrailsoff.
“Someonewhowhat?”Iask,runningthroughthetenthousandpossibilitiesinmymind:someonewho’ssleptaround,someonewhodoesn’thavehershittogether,someonewho’strash.
“Someonewho’snotsureiftheyloveme.”
And,oof,thathurtsmorethananythingelse.BecauseImaynotbeabletosaythewords,butwhycan’tMorganfeelit?Howdoesshestillnotknow?
Ishakemyhead.“Howdoyounotunderstandhowmuchyoumeantome?Aftereverything!Idon’tgetit.”
“Ineedthewords,”Morgansays,likeit’sthatsimple.
“Whydotheyevenmatter?It’sallbullshit!Peoplesaythemonesecondandtakethembackthenext.”
“Youdon’t!”Morgansnaps.“Youdon’tsaythem.Youdon’tevensayyouloveyourcar,eventhoughIknowyoudo.Itmightnotmeanmuchfrommostpeople,butitwouldmeanalotcomingfromyou.”
“ButyouknowhowmuchIcare.”
“Thenmaybeknowing’snotenoughifI’mtheonlyonewhodoes!”
“Whichisit,Morgan?AreyoumadIwon’tsaytheL-wordtoyou,orareyoumadthatIwon’ttakeoutabillboardtoleteveryoneelseknow?”
“Both!”sheshouts.
Irubmytemples.“YouknewwhoIwaswhenwestartedthis.IfyouwantedPDAandlabels,youshouldhaveaskedsomeonefromyourpreciousPrideClub,”Isay,jealousylacingthroughthoselastfewwords.
Morganglaresatmeforasecondandthenstormsupthepath.
“Whereareyougoing?”Iask,chasingafterher.
“Home.”
“I’llgiveyouaride.”
“It’srightaroundthecorner.Icanhandlethewalk.”
“ButIwantto.”Ireachforherhandtoslowherdown.“Please.”
“No,thankyou.”
“Idon’twanttofightwithyou.ThewholereasonI’mheretonightisbecauseIwantustogobacktothewaythingswerebeforeIactedlikeanasshole.Please!”
“Theycan’t,”Morgansays,shakingmeoff.
Idon’twanttobelievethat.Iwon’t.
Ifollowherasshecutsacrossthecourtyardandaroundthecorner,everythingquietexceptforthesoundofourfootstepsandthestraycroakofatreefrog.Morganslidesherkeyinandunlocksthefrontdoor,hesitatingasshestepsinside.Dylanmustnotbehomeyet,judgingbythelackoflights.
“Willyouletmeinatleast?”Iask.
“Areyousureyouwantto?Whatifsomeonesees?”
“Mycar’sdownbythepond.It’snotlikeanyonewill…”Itrailoff,realizingtoolatethatshewasbeingsarcastic.“Obviously,Iwanttocomein.Please.”
“Suityourself,”Morgansays,pullingopenthedoor.34
MORGAN
Ikickoffmyshoesandflickonalamp.
Usually,Dylanishomebynow,butI’mgladhe’snotthistime.Idon’tneedanaudiencewhilegettingdumpedforthesecondtimetoday,whichiswhatI’mprettysurehashappened—orisstillinthemiddleofhappeningnow—especiallyafteressentiallygettingfiredtoo.
Abunchofmailwasshovedthroughourmailslot,soIscoopitoffthefloor,carryittothetable,andflipthroughitasRubyunlaceshersneakersandleavesthembythedoor.It’smostlyjunkmail,butthenIseealetterfromthedeanofadmissionsatmycollege.Or,well,mypotentialcollege.
“Ohmygod,”Isay,droppingtheenvelope.
“What?”Rubygrabsitoffthefloorandreadsthelabel.“Isthisyourschool?”
“Yeah,”Isay,ourarguingputonholdas100percentofmyfocusisshiftedtotheenvelopeinherhands.
“It’slight.”Shebouncesitupanddownalittle.“Isitgoodthatit’slight?”
“HowshouldIknow?Everythingelsefromthemhasbeenanemail!”
Rubyholdsitouttomewithasmallsmileonherface.“Onlyonewaytofindout.”
“Ican’t.”Ishakemyhead.“Youdoit.”
“Areyousure?Thisiskindofabigmoment.”
“Openit,”Isay.“Please,I’mdying.”
Rubytakesadeepbreath,carefullytearsopenthetop,andthenslowlypullsoutasinglepage.
“Readitfaster!Comeon!”
“Okay,okay,”shesays.Agrinspreadsacrossherfaceashereyesscanthepage.
“It’sgood?”
Rubynods.“It’sreallygood.”
“Letmesee.”Isnatchtheletteroutofherhand,nearlytearingthepaperintheprocess.Myeyesscanitquickly.It’saverykindletterabouttheofficialreinstatementoftheirofferandhowexcitedtheyaretoformallyinvitemetojointheirteam.
Forasecondeverythingclicksintoplace,andallhappinessisrestored.Igettogotomydreamschool;Igettorunformydreamschool.
AndthenInoticethedateontheletter—thedayafteritwasannouncedthatmylawsuitwasformallydropped.
Ofcourse.
Iscrunchthepaperupinmyhand.
Itwasallfornothing.Thelawsuitdidn’thelpanyone;Ididn’thelpanyone.I’mrightbackwhereIstarted,likenothingeverhappened.Itookastandtochangetheworld,andallIdidwasmakelifeinfinitelyharderforthepeopleonmyside.
“Morgan?What’swrong?”Rubyasks,andIjust…Ican’twithheranymore.Ican’twiththistimeloopIseemtobestuckin.Samesituations,differentfaces.I’llloveyou,butIwon’ttellyou.I’llkissyou,butithastobeasecretIfeellikeI’mgoingtoscream.
“Ineedtobealonerightnow.”Irushtomybedroomandburymyfaceinthepillows,tryingnottocry.ThebeddipsamomentlaterasRubysitsbesideme,rubbingmyback.Isnifflealittleandsitup.“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Tryingtohelp.Idon’tknowwhat’swrong,but—”
“Youdon’tknowanything,Ruby.”
“Iknowyoujustfoundoutyou’redefinitelyinatyourtop-choiceschool,andthosedonotlookliketearsofjoy.”Shewipesatmycheek.“Idon’tunderstand.Ithoughtthiswaswhatyouwanted.”
“Ifthere’sonethingI’vebeenshowntoday,it’sthatwhatIwantdoesn’tmatter.”
Rubylooksaway,andIknowmyjablanded.
“I’mgonnaignorethat,”shesays,likeit’sbigofherorsomething.“Butthisisgood.Thisisagoodthing,right?You’rein.Youhaveascholarship.”
“Yeah,”Isay.“Thisisagoodthing.”
“Thenwhat?”
“Lookatthedate,”Isay,gesturingtothenow-smoothed-outletterinherhand.“Theysentitrightafterthelawsuitwasdropped.RightafterwecavedtoSt.Mary’s.I’mbeingrewardedforgivingupmyprinciples.IthoughtIcould…”Ishakemyhead.“Whatever.”
“Notwhatever.Talktome.I’mhere.Iwanttobehere.”
Ilookupather.“IthoughtIcouldchangetheworld.Isn’tthatstupid?Ireallythoughtthatstandingupformyselfwouldmakeanimpact.Butitwasallfornothing.”
Rubygivesmethesoftestsmileandtucksastraypieceofhairbehindmyear.“Notfornothing.Youinspiredalotofpeople.Andyou’rehelpingpeopleatthecenter.Eventoday,Ibetyou—”
“Igotfiredtoday.”
“Yougotfired?How?Why?”
“BecauseIwentoffonsomebodyaboutcomingoutandsuingtheirschool.Likeactualfull-on,stressed-outyelling.”
Rubyrubsmybackagain.“Thatsoundslikealot.”
“Yeah.”Ihuffoutabitterlaugh.“Apparently,I’monlyqualifiedtodestroymyparents’financesandstuffbackpacks.”
“Okay,well,youhavetimetofigurethatallout.It’snot—”
“Wow,evenmygirlfrienddoesn’tbelieveinme.”Irollmyeyes.“Oh,wait,no,Iforgot.Idon’thaveagirlfriend.”
“Idobelieveinyou!AndIalsobelievethatyoudeserveonlygoodthings.Youdeserveeverythingyouwant.Butsometimesintherealworldwhatyoudeservedoesn’treallymatter.I’msorryyou’rejustfindingthatoutnow.”
Mymouthfallsopenindisbelief.“YouthinkIdon’tknowwhattherealworldislike?Igaveupmyschool,myfriends,mywholelife,justtotakeastand!”
“Andnoonecanevertakethatawayfromyou.Butnoteveryoneisbravelikeyou.”
“Theyshouldbe,”Isay,grittingmyteeth.“Ifeverybodywouldjuststandupforwhatwasright,then—”
“It’snotalwayssafetodothat!Andtheignorantpeopleyou’refightingagainstthinkthey’rerighttoo.”
“Sowhat?Ishouldjustgiveupuntiltheworldreachesaconsensusonwhetherornotit’sokayformetolikegirls?”
“Ididn’tsaythat,andIdefinitelydon’tthinkthat,”Rubysays,runningherhandsupanddownmyarms.“I’msayingitdoesn’tmatterifyoudidn’twinthelawsuit.Youarehelpingpeople.You’vehelpedme.”
Isnort.“How?Alittlewhileagoyouwerebasicallytellingmethatwecan’tseeeachotherbecausepeoplearestartingtotalk.”
“Ididn’tsaywecouldn’tseeeachother.Wejusthavetofindawaytokeepitquiet.MaybeifIhangoutwithTyleralittlemore,it’llbalanceoutthegossip.”
Myjawliterallydrops.“Areyouserious?”
Rubysmiles,apparentlyoblivious.“Yeah,peoplewillprobablyassumethat—”
“Thatyou’refuckinghim,”Isay,surprisingevenmyselfwithmyharshness.ButI’mmadandI’mhurtandI’minnoconditiontofightfairrightnow.
Shewinces.“Don’tsayitlikethat.”
“It’strue,isn’tit?”Ishootoutofbed,standingoverher.“Whywouldyouevensuggestthat?AnddoesTylergettobeinonthisplan?Orareyougoingtohurthimtoo?”
Shehangsherhead.“Idon’twanttohurtanyone!Ijustwanttofindawaywecanbetogetherwithoutpeopleknowing.”
“Iwantpeopletoknow.”Igroan.“IwantlabelsandPDAandsomeonewhodoesn’tcalllove‘theL-word.’AndIdefinitelydon’twanttheentireschoolthinkingyou’rescrewingTylerPortmanifwe’retogether!”
Shelooksaway,bitingherlip.“Ireally,reallydon’tknowwhatyouwantmetosayhere.”
“Iliterallyjusttoldyou!”
Rubysighsandlooksatme.“ButyouknowIcan’tgiveyouanyofthat.”
“Ifyouadmirehow‘brave’Iam,”Isay,whippingoutairquotesforgoodmeasure,“whycan’tyoubebravetoo?”
“Youknewthedeal!Youknew.Youcan’tchangetherulesnow.”
“Sometimeschangeisgood,”Iplead.“I…Ineedthis.”
“Youneedthis?Morgan,mycomingoutismine.It’snotsomethingtoslapinyourwincolumnsoyoucanfeelbetteraboutyourself.”
Icrossmyarmsandlookaway.
“Doyouevenhearyourselfrightnow?Thisismylifewe’retalkingabout.Youdon’tgettoturnitinsideoutjustsoyoucanhavetheshake-upyou’relookingfor.”
“That’snotwhatI’mdoing.”
“Maybenotintentionally,but…Look,foralotofreasons,Ineedpeoplenotinmybusiness.Okay?Itcouldmessalotofthingsupforme.”
Ilookherstraightintheeyes.“Ifyoudon’twantanyoneknowingyourbusiness,thenwhyisitokaytomakethemthinkyou’rehookingupwithTyler?”
“Youknowwhy,”Rubysays,settingherjaw.
“No,Idon’t.Ineedyoutotellme,”Isay,eventhoughIdoknow,andhearinghersayitmightbreakme.
Sheshakesherhead.“BecauseTylerisaboy,”shesayssoftly.Resigned.“Andgirlsaren’tsupposedtolikeothergirls.”
“Well,somegirlsdo,”Isay,echoingherwordsfromtheshop.
Ourwordshangheavybetweenus,neitherofussurewheretogofromhere.
“Youdon’tunderstand,”Rubysaysafterwhatfeelslikeaneternity.“Ifmymom…”
“No,Ido.”Idropmyhead.“Ido.AndI’mnotgoingtobethepersonwhoforcestheirpartnertocomeoutorissuesanultimatum.”
“Thankyou,”shesayswithatinysmile.“Iknewifwetalkedwecouldfigure—”
“ButIdon’tthinkIcankeeppretendingeither.”Ilookaway.“IpromisedmyselfIwouldneverletanyoneshovemebackinthecloset,butIreally,reallythoughtIcouldmakeanexceptionforyou.Or,honestly,Ireally,reallythoughtyou’dcomearoundtotheideaofbeingout.Iknowthat’snotfair.”
Thesilencestretchesonsolouditmakesmyearsring.
“Sowe’rejustover,then?”Rubyfinallyasks.AndIdon’tanswer,becausewebothalreadyknow,andonceIsayitoutloud…Rubydropsherheadagainstmyshoulder,hertearshotandwetagainstmyskin.
“Iloveyou,”Isay.Andshelooksupatme.“I’vebeeninlovewithyousinceyouhandedmethatbagofpeas.”
ThesaddestsmileI’veeverseensnakesacrossherfaceasshewipeshereyes.“Yeah?”
“Yeah.Iwishthereweresomeway…”
Carheadlightsdanceacrossmywall,probablyDylancominghomejustintimetowitnesstheabsolutecatastropheofus.
“Metoo.”Rubysniffs.Shepressesherforeheadagainstmine—justforasecond,justlongenoughformetofeelthatherheart’scrackingtoo.“Seeyouaround,Matthews.”
Andthenshe’sgone.35
RUBY
“Dammit.”Igroan,slidingoutfromunderthecarandslammingmywrenchontheground.
Billyglancesatmeandthengoesbacktotinkeringwithamotorcycleengineontheothersideoftheshop.
Isitup,hangingmyelbowsoffmykneesasthesweatdripsdownmyface.Wewerehitwithanearlyheatwave,whichmeansit’saboutabillionandahalfdegreesinhere.AndI’mstuckinglovesbecauseIcan’triskmessingupmymanicurethisclosetothepageant.Perfect.
Awaterbottleappearsinfrontofmyface,Billy’sgrease-coveredhandsgrippingittightly.“Areyougonnatellmewhat’sgoingon?”
ThebottlecrinkleswhenIgrabit.Hetossesmeacleanrag,andIpoursomewateronitandwipeitovermyfaceandneck.“Thebrakecaliperpistonseized.”
Hetakesasipfromhisownbottle,seemingtoconsiderhiswordscarefullybeforemovingonwithasimple“Youknowthat’snotwhatI’mtalkingabout,kid.”
AndIknowit’snot.HewantstoknowwhyI’vebeenhereattheshopeverysparesecondthatI’mnotatschoolordoingpageantprep,butIcan’ttellhim.Hewouldn’tunderstand,andifItoldhimeverything,hemightevengetfreakedout.Icouldn’tbearthatontopof…well,ontopofeverythingelse.
“Comeon,what’seatin’you?”
“Nothing,”Isay,walkingovertotheradio.Billyhasitsettosometerribleclassicrocksongaboutpaintingthingsblack,whichisperfectformymood.Icrankituploudandgrabafreshragandacarburetorthatneedstobecleanedfrommyworkbench,pointedlysittingwithmybacktohim.
Iassumehe’sgonebacktoworkingonthebike—Billy’sneverbeenonetopush—untilIhearhimturntheradiodown.Ispinaroundinmyseatslowlyandfindhimwatchingme,completelyamused.
“What?”Ipout.
“Iwasjustthinkingthatpeoplehaveprobablybeenthrowingfitsandblastingthatsongsince1960,butthisisthefirsttimeI’veeverseenithappeninreallife.”
“Youweren’tevenaliveinthesixties.”Isnort.
“Doesn’tmeanI’mwrong.”HesquirtssomeGOJOintohishands,scrubbingoffthegreaseintheindustrialsinkbesideme.“Comewashup.”
“I’mstillworking,”Isayrightasadeliveryguypullsuptothedoor.
“Notwhendinner’shere,you’renot,”hesays,goingtopaytheguyandgrabthebagsoffood.They’refromMama’sRestaurant—Icanalreadytell—whichmeansit’sprobablyMama’sroastbeefsandwichspecial.Mymouthwatersatthethoughtofit.At$8.99asandwich,it’sararesplurge.
IpulltheglovesoffmyhandsasquickasIcanandthenduckintothebathroomtocleanupalittleextrabeforejoininghimatthepicnictablebehindtheshop.He’salreadyhalfwaythroughscarfinghisdownbythetimeI’mout.
BillyslidesmyboxovertomeasIdropintomyseat.
“Thanks.”ItakethebiggestbiteIpossiblycan,mycheekspuffingoutlikeachipmunk’s,butIdon’tevencare.Billydoesn’tgiveashitaboutmebeingpresentable,pageant-ready,orladylike.Hedoesn’tcareifIinhaleroastbeefandlovegreaseandloud,fastcars.Hedoesn’tgiveashitaboutanythingatallaslongasIkeepmyworkspacecleananddoagoodjob.
OrsoIthought,butthenhesighsandgivesmealookI’veneverseenbefore.Itseemsalmost…worried?
“Allright,I’veletthisgoonlongenough,”hesays,likeit’sactuallykillinghimtosaythis.“Yougottatellmewhat’swrongbeforeIgetanulcer.”
“Nothing’swrong.”
“Ruby,you’retalkingtoaguywithtwoex-wives,okay?Iknowwhatitlookslikewhenawoman’supset.AndIalsoknow…”Hehesitates.“Iknowyourmomcanbe…alittledifficultaboutthings.Ifyouwanttotalk,I’m—”
“Idon’t.”
“Well,ifyoudo,”hesays,pickingastraybitoflettuceoffhiswrapperandchewingitthoughtfully,“I’mnotsayingI’mthebestatadvice,butyoucoulddoworse.That’sall.I’mhereforyou,wheneveryouneedme.”
Istaredownatmysandwich,blinkinghard,becausethat’sprobablythenicestthinganyadulthaseversaidtome,andIamnotequippedforthis.Idon’tknowwhattodowithit.Idon’tevenknowhowtobegintofeelaboutit.
Becausethetruthis,Iwanttotellhim.Iwanttotellsomeone.Becausethishasbeenhellforme,andnobodyknowsit.I’veevenbeenputtingonabravefaceforEverly,eventhoughhelpingherwithherHeartEyesprojectiskillingme.ButseeingMorganinschool,sharingaclasswithher,actinglikeeverything’sokay?It’stoomuch.
Lastweek,IevenhadtomovemyseatinGovernmentbecauseIcouldn’ttakesittingacrossfromheranymore.ThekidwhoseseatIstolewaspisseduntilItoldhimI’dmakesurehiscarpassedinspectionnextmonth.See,Igetthat.Iunderstandthewholeone-hand-washes-the-otherthing.
ButIdon’tunderstandcaringaboutsomeonejustforthehellofit,evenifithurts.Idon’tunderstandwantingtochangetheworldforpeopleyoudon’tevenknow.AndIsureashelldon’tunderstandhavingenoughfaithtosayIloveyouandmeanit,evenwhentheotherpersoncouldn’tpossiblysayitback.
“Ijustneedtokeepbusyrightnow.”
Billywipeshisfacewithanapkin.“Mm-hmm.”
Hesoundslikehedoesn’tbelieveme,butit’strue.Ithelps.I’vebeenworkingherenonstop,pickingupextraclassesatthestudio,andpracticingmypageantstuff24/7.CharleneandIhavebeenrunninginterviewsandwalksandlooksuntilI’mtooexhaustedtoevenmove,butitstillisn’tenoughtokeepmymindoffMorgan.
Everythingremindsmeofhernow.Ihateit.Ican’tevengotothegrocerystoreforaCupNoodleswithoutwalkingbytheirstupidflowerdisplayandrememberingourfirstdate.I’vebeendoingeverythingIcantoignoretheabsolutehomesicknessI’mfeelingforthatgirl.ButeverytimeIstopmoving,itallcatchesuptome.
Billycrumpleshiswrapperup,throwingitintothegiantbarrelheusesasatrashcanandraisinghisarmsintheair.“Andthecrowdgoeswild!”Heimitatestheroarofpeoplecheeringbeforeheadinginside.IknowBillydidn’trealizehewaspickingatascabthat’sbarelyhealed,butIwishhe’djustleftitalone.
Ikeeptellingmyselfthatthisisforthebest,thatnotbeingtogetherhastobeeasieronbothofus.Andmaybeitisforher.Idon’tknow.EverytimeIseeher,she’soffwithAllieandLydia,trainingorlaughingaboutsomething.Iguess“livinghertruth”hasbeengoodforher.IknowIshouldberelieved,but…
Thestatemeetisthisweekend,andI’mapparentlyamasochist,soI’mplanningtogo.Iknowshe’sgoingtowinbyalandslide.JustlikeIknowthere’sawholesideofherlifethatIwasneverreallyapartof.Ahappylife.ADivisionIkindoflife.
MaybeIwasthethingmessingitupallalong.
Istaredownatthegraininthepicnictable,thegraywoodthatshouldhavebeenstainedlongagoandisjustouthererottingawaybecausenoone’stakingcareofit.Peopleshouldtakecareoftheirthings.Whetherit’sanoldpicnictableor…oryourperson.
Andallofasudden,itfeelslikeI’mgoingtoexplode,wordswellingupinmychest,likeI’mchoking,likeifIdon’tgetthemoutimmediately,I’lldrowninthem.
IwalkovertowhereBillyisworkingonthemotorcycle,anoldHarleyoneofhisbuddiesowns,whichhe’scharginghalfpriceforeventhoughIknowhereallyneedsthemoney.Iclearmythroat,andhestops,leaningbackinhissquatjustenoughtomakeeyecontactandraisehiseyebrows.
“Imightbebiorsomething,”Imumble,thewordsfallingoutofmymouthlikeglassandsmashingonthefloorbelow.Iexpecthimtoactallweirdortellmetogetout,buthejustlooksatmelikehe’swaitingformetosaymore.Butthereisn’tanymore.“I’llgo.”
“Ikindoffiguredthatwhenyoubroughtthegirlhere,”hesays,switchingouthiswrench.“Shetheonewho’sgotyoualltwistedup?”
Ifreeze.“Youknew?”
Heglancesupatmeashetightensabolt.“Shelookedatyoulikeyouhungthemoon,andyouhadthedopiestsmileonyourfacethewholetime.Plus,she’sthefirstpersonyoueverbroughtheretoshowyourstuffto.Iwouldhavesuspectedevenifyoudidn’tsuckatbeingsubtle.”
“Hey,IbroughtEverlyhere!AndTyler!”
“Yeah,onceeach,tousetheliftandpatchuptheirpiece-of-shitcars.”Helaughs.“Nottogivethemanintroductionandagrandtour.Youdidn’tevenletTylercomeinwhileyouworked,remember?Theladyacrossthestreetcalledthecopsbecausehekeptlookinginthewindowsandshethoughthewascasingtheplace.”
He’sgotmethere.
“Youtellyourmother?”
Ishakemyhead.“No,butsheheardarumorandwasn’thappyaboutit.”
“Ibet.”Helooksupatme,studyingeveryinchofmyface.“Youokay?”
Ishrugandlookaway.
“Ruby.”Hestandsup,andIcanseeaflickerofangerbeneathhiseyes.“Isyourmomtreatingyouright?”
Inod.Coveringforherevennow.Protectingthewrongperson.Lovingthewrongperson.Always.
“Thenwhat?”
“MorganandIendedthings.Icouldn’triskMompokingaroundanymore,plusthewholepageantthing.I’dbescrewediftheyeverfoundout.”
Heraisesaneyebrow.“Youhatethepageants.”
“Ido,butthisnextonehasascholarshiptoaplacewithagoodautomotiveprogram.I’mthinkingaboutmaybedoingthat,ifIcanpullitoff.”
“Automotiveprogram,eh?”Hesmiles.
“Yep,”Isay,feelingoddlyproudofmyself.
HehuffsandmumblessomethingIcan’thearintothesideofthebike.
“What?”
“Isaid”—heraiseshisvoice—“Istillthinkyou’readipshit.”
Iletoutastartledlaugh.“Me?”
“Yeah,you,”hesays.“Ifyou’retellingmethereasonyouwerewalkingonairwasbecauseofthatgirl,thenyou’readipshitforendingit,nomatterhowyourmomactsoranyoneelse.Christ,Idon’thavemuch,butyouknowIhaveacouchwithyournameonitanytimeforaslongasyouneedit,andIwon’taskshitaboutshitunlessyouforcemyhand.”
“Really?”
“Idivorcedyourmom,kid,notyou.You’llalwayshaveaplacetocrashandfoodtoeatwhileI’monthisearth.Nowgetyourheadoutofyourassandstartmakingsomerealplansforyourself,insteadofjustrunningscared,doingwhatyourmomwantsallthetime.”
Iopenmymouth,intendingtosay,Idon’tevenknowwhat,butallthatcomesoutisalittlegaspyinhaleasItrynottocry.
“Now,don’tdothat,”Billysayswithanexaggeratedsternface.“Icandealwithalotofthings,butgirlscryinginmyshopisn’toneofthem.Don’tyouhaveacartofix?”
“Yeah.”Inod,wipingmynose.“Yeah,Ido.”36
MORGAN
Ifindmylaneonthetrackamongthepackofothergirlsrunningthe3200.We’rethebestofthebestwhenitcomestodistancerunninginthetopdivision.Ifindmyparentsinthecrowdofspectatorsandwasteafewsecondsscanningtherowsaroundthem,likeRubywillsomehowjustbethere.Butofcourseshe’snot.
Thestartertellsustogetready,andIsinkdownintomystance,mywholebodytautandelectric.I’mtheonlyonefromtheteamthatevenqualifiedforthisheat,andI’mnotgoingtoletalittleheartbreakslowmedown.
ThegungoesoffandsodoI,shovingeverythingIhaveintoeverysinglefootstep.Allofthisheartbreak,allthatI’vebeenthroughandamstillgoingthrough—itfuelsme.IfeeltheothergirlsnippingatmyheelsasIhitmystride.Theythinktheycancatchme?Theycantry.
Outhereonthetrack,thereisnothingbutmeandthesoundofmybreathandtheburninmylegs.
Outhere,Imeetmyexpectationsandsurpassthem.
Outhere,Idon’tletanybodydownwithfailedlawsuitsorbadideas.
Outhere,Iamfree.
Outhere.
Out.
WhenIcrossthefinishline,IcollapseintoLydia’sarms,sobbing,wishingtheywereRuby’s.Mywholeteamrushestohugme,pattingmeonthebackandwhoopingthatItookfirstplace.Andthenmymotheristhereholdingmeup,holdingmetight.
Iletthemallthinkthetearsarefromexertion.Boyspuke,girlscry—that’swhatthecoachesalwayssay.
Nobodyneedstoknowthetruth.
???
“Areyoujustgoingtositinyourroomandmopeforever?”mybrotherasks,leaninginthedoorway.
“No,”Ideadpan,“Ihavetogoschoolinanhour.”
“Nice.Soyourplanistojustdragdowneverybodyaroundyoutryingtolearn?Excellentdecision,”hesayswithagiantmockingsmileandtwobigthumbs-up.Ifighttheurgetothrowsomethingathim.
It’snothisfaultI’mmiserable.Hedidn’tmovehisseatinclassjusttoavoidlookingatme.Hedidn’tblowoffmystatemeet.
“I’mjusttired,”Isay,whichisnotalie.SpendingalldayatschoolsmilingandactinglikeI’mfineisexhausting.
Aaronknowsthedeal;I’vecriedtohimmorethanonce.AndAnikaandDrewkeepsandwichingmeinthehallway,tryingtoblockmyviewofher.EvenAllieandLydiakeepaskingmeifI’mokay.Theanswerisalways“Yes,ofcourse,”andthen“Ican’tbelievewewonstates,”whichinevitablydistractsthem.
ButwhenI’mhome,IcurlintoalittleballandwatchstupidcartoonsonmyiPadandtrynottobreathetoomuch,becausesometimesbreathinghurtswhenyoucan’tbewiththepersonyoulove.
“Yousleepprettymuchallthetime,”Dylansays.
“Yes,becauseI’mtired,”Isaythroughgrittedteeth.
“Isthisaboutthecenter?BecauseI’llcallandseeifIcangetyoureinstatedasapeercounselor.Ifit’supsettingyouthismuch,thenmaybeyoushouldn’tstillbespendingsomuchtimethere.”
Dylandoesn’tknowthereasonIspendsomuchtimethereisbecauseit’stheoneplaceIcanletmyselfwellandtrulyfallapart.I’veevenstartedgoingtocounseling.Izziehasbeenagodsend.
“Canwetalkaboutsomethingelse?”Iask.
“Fine,howaboutthefactthatIhaven’tseenRubyinlikeaweekwhensheusedtopracticallylivehere?”
“Seventeendays,”Isay,“notaweek.”Irealizetoolatethatknowingtheexactlasttimeshewasinmyapartmentprobablydoesn’thelpmakemycaseforhowwellI’mdoing.
“Howhasitbeenthatlong?Thestatemeetwasbarelyaweekago.Ifyoustayedawakemore,maybeyou’dactuallyknowwhatdayitis.”
“WhatdoesRubyhavetodowithstates?”
“Uh,’causeshewasthere,”Dylansays.“Oh,sorry,arewestillnotacknowledgingsheexistswhenwe’reinpublic?”
Iboltupinbed.“Rubywasthere?”
Hesuddenlylooksveryuncomfortable.“Ithoughtyouknew.”
“Whydidn’tyousayanything?!”
“Iassumedyouguyssnuckofftomakeoutunderthebleacherswheneverweweren’tlooking.”
Istareathim,myheadspinningout.WhywasRubythere?Whydidn’tshesaysomethingtome?She’sbeensocold,sogoodatkeepingherdistance.Ithoughtshewashappy.Ifshewentallthewayto—
“Morgan?”Dylanasks,butthebuzzofmyphonealarmsavesmefromanymoreconversation.
“Ihavetogetready,”Isay,rushingtothebathroom.
???
Idon’tknowwhatIexpectedwouldhappenwhenIgottoschool,orwhyIthoughtthesuddenrevelationthatRubyhadgonetomycompetitionaweekagowouldchangeanything.Itdoesn’t.
Iwatchhermovethroughthebuilding,searchinghardforcracksinhercalmexteriororevidencethatshestillcares.ShesitswithMarcusandEverlyatlunch,smilingjusttherightamountandpointedlynotlookinginmydirection.IsitwithAnikaundertheguiseofhelpingherinventorythelastofthedonations—she’ssortingclothing,I’mdoingcannedanddrygoods—butthetruthis,I’mjusttootiredtokeepupthecharadearoundAllieandLydiaanymore.Though,judgingbytheirworriedfaces,I’mnotsureI’mfoolinganyoneanyway.
“Maybeyoushouldtalktoheragain,”AnikasaysafterthetenthtimeIchecktoseeifRubyislooking.Sheisnot.
“Andsaywhat?Nothinghaschanged.”
“Idon’tknow,butyouseemwaymoremiserablenowthanyoudidbefore.”
Ipulloutthreecansofgreenbeansandlogthemonthesheetinfrontofme.“Whatdoyouthink?There’sprobablyenoughfor,what,sixorsevenmorebagswithallthis?”
“I’mhopingforeightsowe’llhavedonatedaneventwenty…Anddon’tthinkIdidn’tnoticeyourlittlesubjectchange.”
“Sorry.”Ipulloutthefinalitem,agiantcaseofmacandcheese,andthendropintomychair.“Ididn’tthinkbeingawayfromherwouldsuckthisbad.Imean,weweren’tevenofficial!”
Anikashrugs.“IttookmeoverayeartogetoverthefirstpersonIeverreallyloved.”
Ilogthemacandcheeseontheformandsigh.“You’retellingmeIhaveeleven-plusmonthsleftofthis?”
“No,I’mtellingyounottobelikeme,”Anikasays.“BreakingupwiththemwasthebiggestmistakeIevermade.”
“Sowhydidyou?”
“BecauseIthoughttheywerecheatingonme,butitturnsoutthepersonIsawthemwithwastheircousin.Ididn’tevengivethemachancetoexplain,andwhenIfinallyfoundoutthetruth,theydecidedthattheydidn’twanttobewithmeanymore.Ibroketheirtrustbyoverreactingandnotbelievinginthem.”
“Butthat’sdifferent.”
“Yeah,”Anikasays,foldingapairofpajamapants.“ButIthinktheregretpartisgoingtobeexactlythesame.”
IpeekagainatRuby,whoisnowengagedinwhatappearstobealivelyconversationwithTyler.Iwonderifthey’rehookingupagain.Iwonderifthat’showshe’smovingonsoquickly.“Well,Rubyseemstobedoingjustfine.”
Anikalooksoverather.“Idon’tknow.Maybeshe’sjustbetteratpretendingthanyouare.Shedoeshaveallthatpageantexperience.Noonecanpossiblybethathappytobestandingonastageinabikini.”
“Hey,I’mgoodatpretendingtoo.”
“Clearly,”Anikasayswithalittlelaugh.
“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”
Anikaliftsupmyinventorysheetandholdsitinfrontofme.“Lookatthelastthingyouwrote.”
“Macandcheese?”Isay,scrunchingupmyshoulders.
Anikatapsthesheet.“Tryagain.”
IwincewhenIreadwhat’sreallythere.“MacandRuby.Onecase.”
“Yeah,”shesays.
“Itcouldbelikeanexperimentalflavor!I’maninnovator.”
“Mm-hmm,sure.”
“I’mhopeless.”Ipullthelogoutofherhandandcorrectit.
“Kinda,”shesaysjustasthebellrings.
Rubygetsupfromhertable,withTylerfollowingclosebehind.Oureyesmeetwhenshewalksby,andshegivesmethetiniestsmile.Itonlylastsasecond,andI’mnotevensureitwasintentional,butI’lltakeit.37
RUBY
“Hey,”Isay,walkingintomyhouse.Ileftearlythismorningtorunanerrandbeforemypageanttoday.Chuckisstillasleep,butMomisalreadyatthekitchentablewithhercoffee.Shelookssleepyandwarm,happyinawaysheonlygetsonpageantmornings…whichmakesthissomuchharder.
“Morning,”shesays.“Wherewereyouofftosoearly?”
“Ihadtodropoffnotesforafriend.”
“Thisaschoolthing?”
“JustsomeonefrommyGovernmentclass.”Ipulloutmychairandsitdowninfrontofher.“ButIneedtotalktoyouaboutsomething.Anddon’tgetmad,okay?Please?”
Momsetshermugdown.“HowdoIknowifI’mgoingtogetmaduntilyousayit?”
“Well,itprobablywillmakeyoumad.”Irunmytongueovermyteeth,bidingmytime,workingupthecouragetosayit.“ButIhopeyouhearmeoutanyway.”
“Ruby,whatareyoutalkingabout?DidthatTylerboygetyou—”
“No,no,I’mnotpregnant.”
“Oh,thankgod,”shesays,pickinghercoffeebackup.“Don’tgoscaringmelike—”
“ButIneedyoutoknowthatnomatterwhathappenstoday,I’mnot…I’mnotdoingpageantsanymore.”
“Nonsense,”shesays,raisinghervoice.“Iamnotlettingyouthrowawayyourlife!Iwantbetterforyou.I—”
Ireachacrossthetableandgrabherhand.“I’mnotthrowingawaymylife.I’vegotaplan.There’sthisgreatautomotiveprogram,andI…Pageantsareyourthing,Mom.Theyalwayshavebeen.Pleasetrytounderstand.”
“You’regood,baby.You’rereallygood.Irefuse.”
“Refusewhat?I’meighteen!It’stimetoletmestartfiguringoutwhatIwant,insteadofjust—”
“Justwhat?”Shepullsherhandback,hereyesgoingcold.
Ilookaway.“Justtryingtomakeyouhappy.Iknowyougaveupalotforme,andI’mgrateful,butyouhavetoactuallyletmelivemylifenow.”
“Andwhatexactlydoyouthinkyou’vebeendoing?”
“Livingyourlife,theoneyoulostwhenyouhadme.I’msorrythathappenedtoyou,butIneedtobedonepayingyoubackforbeingborn.Ijust…Iwanttomakemyowndecisions,evenifyouthinkthey’rewrong.”
“Ruby,quittingpageantryisn’tjustwrong.It’sthrowingawayeverythingwe’vebeenworkingtowardsinceyouwerealittlegirl.”
“ButI’mnot.YouknowI’mnotontracktoactuallyevengotoMissAmerica,letalonewinit.Ihaven’thadamajortitleinyears,andI’mnotevenwinningthelittleonesanymore.”
“We’llworkharder.Youstillhaveafewmoreyearsofeligibility,andyou’llhavealotmoretimeforitonceyougraduate.”
“No.Thisisthelastone.”Imeethereyesandtakeadeepbreath.“But…I’malsonotjusttalkingaboutpageants.”
Hereyesnarrowandthengowide.“What,then?”
“YouknowwhatI’mtalkingabout,Mom.YouevenknowwhoI’mtalkingabout.”
“Getoutofmykitchen.”Shestandsupsofastherchairtipsover.
“Mom—”
“Getoutofmysightrightnow,Ruby,”shesays,herhandsshaking.“Go.”
SoIdo.IruntomyroomandgrabmystuffasfastasIcan,butshefollowsmeanyway.
“Iraisedyoubetterthanthis!Itriedmyhardesttodorightbyyou!”sheshouts,grabbingatrophyoffmyshelfandthrowingittotheground.“Igaveupeverything—everything!—soyoucouldlive,andthisiswhatIget?”Shegrabsanothertrophy.“ThisismypaybackforworkingshitjobsandputtingeverypennyIcouldtowardthesecompetitions?”
“Ididn’taskyoutodothat!”Isay,duckingasshethrowsthenextonerightatme.“Ididn’tasktobeborn!”
“Maybethatwasmyfirstmistake,”shesays,andthenroomgoessilent.Eventhedogsstopyippingasherwordslandlikemissilesallaroundus.
“Wow,”Iwhisper.
“Ruby,honey,”shesaysastherealizationofwhatshejustsaidseemstowashoverher.
Irunoutthefrontdoor.
“Baby,wait,”shecallsfromtheporch.“Ididn’tmeanit.We’llfigureitout.JustlikewedidwithKatie.Youdon’thaveto—”
Islammycardoorshutandpeelout,chokingbacksobsuntilIgettoEverly’s.I’vebarelygotmycarinparkbeforeI’mbangingonherfrontdoor.
Averysleepy-lookingEverlypullsitopen,hereyesgoingwideassoonassheseesme.
“Ruby?”
“CanIcomein?Ijustneedaplaceto—”
ButIdon’tgetanymoreoutbeforeshewrapsmeupinahugsotightthatIcan’tbreathe.
“Youneverhavetoask,”shesaysasIburymyfaceagainsther.Sherunsahandovermyhairandtellsmeeverythingisgoingtobeokay.
Andeventhoughitfeelslikemyentirelifejustgotbounceduponatrampoline,somehow,Ibelieveher.38
MORGAN
Thereisasinglepurplecarnationstuckinthespokesofmybikewheel,apieceofpaperwrappedaroundthestem.Isitdownonmyporchsteps,staringatitlikeit’sgoingtobiteme,notsurewhatelsetodo.
Dylancomesoutafewminuteslater,hiscoffeemugstillsteaming,readyforthelongworkdayahead.“Ithoughtyouleft.Don’tyouhaveashiftatthecenter?”
“There’saflowerinmybike,”Isay,likethatexplainsit.
“Doyou…doyouneedmetogetitoutforyou?”heasks,clearlyconfused.
“Ithinkit’sfromRuby,”Isay,stillstaringatit.
“Ah,okay.”Hesitsdownbesidemeonthesteps,andthenwebothjustlookatitforaminute,sayingnothing.
Iglanceathim.“Aren’tyougoingtobelateforwork?”
“Itcanwait.”Hetakesasipofhiscoffeewhilestaringatmybike.“Thisfeelsmoreimportant.”
Iletoutasigh.“Whatdoyouthinkthenotesays?”
“Probablysomethinggood.”
“Really?”
“Youdon’thideflowersandnotesforpeopleunlessit’ssomethinggood.”
“Okay.”Inodbutdon’tmovefrommyspot.
“Okay,”heagrees,takinganothersipofhiscoffeesocalmly,likewebotharen’tbeingridiculous,likewebotharen’talreadylateforthingsandgettinglaterbythesecond.
Irubmyhandstogetherquickly,tryingtopsychmyselfup.“I’mgoingtograbit.”
“Goodplan.”
“Totallygoingtograbit,”Isayagain,stillnotmoving.
“Smartmove.”
“I’mdoingit.”Istandup.“Forreal.”
“Goget’em,tiger,”Dylansays,andIraisemyeyebrows.“Toofar?”
“Toofar.”
“Howabout‘Godspeed’?Does‘Godspeed’work?”
“Thatworks,”Isay.
“Godspeed,then.”
Ijutmychinandmarchover.MyhandstrembleasIpullouttheflower,nearlydroppingthenoteintheprocess.ThenIrunbacktothesteps.
“Goodwork,soldier,”DylansaysasIunfoldthepaper.“What’sitsay?”
Itakeashakybreath,andmyeyesscanthewordsinfrontofme.“ShesaysI’veinspiredher,andshewantstotalk.ShesayssheunderstandsifIdon’twantto,butshereallyhopesIwill.”
“Howdoyoufeelaboutthat?”Dylanasks.
Irubmythumboverherswoopyhandwriting.Ican’tbeartolookaway.“Idon’tknow.Imisshersomuch.”
“Thenwhat’stheproblem?”
“Isthereevenapoint?”
Dylannudgesme.“There’salwaysapointwhenyoulovesomeone.”
“Butitdoesn’tsaythat.ItjustsaysIinspireher,like,mestandingbymyprinciples.”
“Morgan,it’sanote,notyourweddingvows.”
Ilookathim.“ButIdon’twanttoinspireher.Iwanthertobeinlovewithme.”
“Ican’tdecideifit’sendearingorannoyinghowobtuseyouare.”IfoldupthenoteandslipitinmyhoodiepocketasDylanstandstoleave.“Youwantmetodropyouoffatthecenteronmywaytotheshop?”
“No,”Isay,tryingtoputallthistogetherinmyhead,tryingtofigureoutwhatitallmeans.“Ithinkthebikeridewilldomegood.”
???
Theridetothecenteristooshort,mostlybecauseIpedalashardasIcan,theconfusionmixingwithadrenalinetomakemefeelonestepshortofasuperhero.Averyunsure,cautiouslyoptimisticsuperhero,becausethatnote…MaybeDylanisrightaboutit.Maybeitcouldbeaboutlove,ifyousquint.
AaroncatchesmewhenIwalkin,pullingmeintothebreakroomtohandmeabottleofwater.
“Youokay?”heasks.“Youlookalittleoff.”
“Ifeelalittleoff,”Ianswerhonestly.“Butpossiblyinagoodway.Rubyleftmeanote.”
“Hmm,”Aaronhums,lookingthoughtful.“Shealsohadascreamingmatchwithhermomthismorning.Icouldhearthemallthewayinmyhouse.WhydoIhaveafeelingit’srelated?”
“Issheokay?”Iblurtout.
“Idon’tknow.Shepeeledoutofthedriveway,andthatwasthat.”
“Aaron,”Izziecutsin,leaningherheadintothebreakroom.“Yournextvisitishere.”
Aaronlookslikehewantstosaymore,buthedutifullyheadsout,leavingmealoneinthistoo-smallroomwithabottleofwaterandabrainfullofquestions.
Ipulloutmyphone,notevenhesitatingbeforeshootingRubyatext:Igotyournote.Itwasreallynice.
AndthenIadd:Imissyou.
Threedotsappear,butthentheygoaway.Istareatmyphone,myheartinmythroat,andwaitforthemtoreappear.
Theydon’t.
Frowning,Iheadintothecommonroom.Afterschoolyesterday,abunchofuscameheretodropoffthelastofthebackpacksandcelebratecompletingourend-of-yearproject.Thenewdisplaytablelooksawesomewiththedonationbagsonit.
Nowthatthat’sdone,myplanfortodayisreorganizingthebookshelf.Normally,they’realphabeticalbyauthor,butIzziegavemethegreenlighttoreorganizethembycolorforPrideMonth.Sure,makingarainbowoutofbooksisamindlessjob,butIlikeit.
I’manhourintomyshiftwhenafamiliarvoicepullsmeoutofmywork.“Hey.”
“Hey.”Iturnaround,givingDannyasmallsmile.GuessIknowwhoAaron’sappointmentwaswith.Ilookathim,notsureifIshouldapologizeorifapologizingwillonlymakeitworse.ForallIknow,he’scomingtotellmehowgladheisheneverhastoseemeagain.
“Youhungry?”heasks,holdingoutanapkinwithacouplecookiesonit.Ihaven’thadonesincethedayIlostitonhim.
“Thanks,”Isay,takingone.Hebitesintotheother,athoughtfullookonhisface.
“What’sallthis?”
“I’mredoingthebookshelf,”Isay.“I’mnotdoingpeercounselinghereanymore,obviously.SoI’mjusttryingtobeusefulsomehow.”
“Cool,”hesays.
“Look,I’mreallysorryaboutwhathappened.Ishouldn’thaveflippedlikethat.Itwasn’treallyaboutyou,andIshouldn’thaveletmyowndramacloudmyjudgment.”
“It’sokay,”hesays.“Iknowwhatit’sliketogetsuperoverwhelmed.Forwhatit’sworth,I’msorryyou’renotacounseloranymore.”
Ishrug.“Isuckedatitanyway.”
“No,youdidn’t.”
“WebothknowI’mwaytoomuchofamesstobecounselinganyonerightnow,butthanks.”
“Sometimesthosemakethebestcounselors,Ithink,”hesays.“Besides,whenyouweren’tyellingatmetosuetheNFL,youdidgiveprettygoodadvice.”
“Doesthatmeanyoutoldyourboyfriendhowimportantitwasforyoutobeout?”
Dannynods.“Iwasscared,butItoldhimexactlyhowIfelt,justlikeyousaid.ItoldhimIdidn’tcareifitmeanttheendofmyfootballcareer,butthatIreallyhopeditdidn’t.AndItoldhimIwantedthewholeworldtoknowhowgrosslyinlovewearewitheachother.”
Igrin.“That’sawesome.Nowyouguysdon’thavetohideanymore.”
“Thanks.Butwe’reactuallynotout.”
“Butyoujustsaid—”
“IsaidItoldhimeverythingthatIfelt.”
“Butwasn’tthewholepointthatyouweren’thappybeingasecretanymore?”
Heshrugs.“Kindof?”
“Youlostme.”
“AfterItoldhimallthat,Ilethimtalk.Itgotreallyheavy.Therewasalotofshoutingatfirst,anditwasharderthanIthoughtitwouldbe.Butsomeoneoncetoldmenottoshyawayfromtoughconversations,soIdidn’t.”
“Youguysbrokeup,then?”Iask,becausethissoundsso,somuchlikemeandRuby.
Heshakeshishead,andmyeyeswiden.“Irealizedthatmy‘truth’orwhateverwasn’tmoreimportantthanhisreality.He’snotcomfortablebeingout,andhishomelifeisn’tthemostsupportive.IdecidedthatIlovehimenoughthatIcanwait.”
“Soyouguysaregoingtokeeplying?”Iask,andheflinchesatmywords.
“I’mnotlying.I’mprotectingthepersonIlovethebestwayIcan.Anditmightnotworkout;thepressurecouldgettobothofus.Butweagreedifthatstartedtohappenagain,wewouldbehonestandgofromthere.Rightnow,we’regood.Webothgetwheretheotherone’scomingfrom.Ifmychoiceishavinghimsomeofthetimeornoneofthetime,Ipicksome.”
“Andyou’reokaywiththat?Forreal?”
“Ihavetobe.I’mnotgoingtobreakupwiththepersonIlovejusttoproveapoint.”
Anditfeelslikesomeonejustdroppedananvilonmyheadbecause…That’snotwhatIdid,isit?
“Ohmygod,”Iwhisper.
“What?”
Isnapmyeyestohis.“Imadeahugemistake.”
“No,youradvicewasgreat.Iprobablyneverwouldhavehadthecouragetobehonestwithhimwithoutit.Iwentinthereallfiredup,readytotearthehingesofftheclosetbecauseofyou.”Dannylaughs.“Andeventhoughthatcan’thappenrightnowforabunchofreasons,theconversationmadeuscloser.Ifyouhadn’tpushedme,Iwouldn’thavesaidanythinguntilIwassofedupthatwewouldhavebeenbeyondsaving.Ishouldbethankingyou.”
Iswallowhard,staringatthetable.“Ididn’tlisten.”
“Well,I’mnotgoingtorepeatit.”Hesmirks.“Nowitjustfeelslikeyou’refishingforcompliments.”
“No,Iheardyou.ButnotthegirlIcaredabout.ThegirlIcareabout.Ididexactlywhatyoudid,butthenIdidn’tlisten.Imadeherfeelliketherewasnooption.”Ishakemyhead.“Ithoughttherewasn’t.AndnowIthinkmaybeshe’stryingfixthings.Sheleftmeaflower,andshewrotethisnote.ButIthinkIshouldbetheonetryingtomakeituptoher.”
“Oh,”hesays,“shit.”
“Yeah.”Ilookupathim.“WhatdoIdonow?”
“Youreallystillcareabouther?”
“Iloveher,”Isayfirmly,nohesitation.
Hescratcheshiseyebrow.“Thenitsoundslikeyouhaveatoughconversationyoucan’tshyawayfrom.”
“She’satapageant…Ican’t…ShouldIgo?Ishouldgo,right?”
“Youshouldalwaysgo.”
Inarrowmyeyes.“Waitasecond.Doesthismeanyoujustbecomemycounselor?”
“Probably.”Hegrins.“So…youneedarideorwhat?”39
RUBY
Ifitwasn’tthewaythedoorslammedwhensherushedinduringthefinalroundofthepageantthatgotmyattention,itwasdefinitelythewayshesnaggedthemicrophonewireonherfootasshefoundaseatinthefrontrow,pullingitfromtheannouncer’shand,whichmadehimkindofawkwardlyshuffledowntopickitupwithoutexposingthatthebackofhissuitwasactually“tailored”withfabrictape.
AndsonowI’mstandingonstagebesidetheothersemifinalists—fifteendownfromforty—perfectposture,neckarchedaslongasitcango,legangledtoaccentuatetheslitofmygown,chintippeddown,smilewide—staringintoMorgan’seyeswithmyheartthrumminginmychestlikeahummingbirdonmeth.
I’mnextupfortheinterviewquestion,whichispossiblygoingtodecidemyentirefuture,andhavingMorganherehasmedistracted.Consumed.InabsolutelyzeroscenariosdidIthinktheresultofmynotewouldbehercharginginhere.Iwasn’tevenshesurewouldreadit.Didthelightsjustgetamilliontimeshotter?
“NextwehaveRubyGoldThompson,”theannouncersays,readingoffmybioandallmypastwinsandplacementsasIglideacrossthestage.Thetrainofmygownflutterselegantlybehindme,itsbeadsglintingunderthelights.Momspenttwowholepaychecksonthisdress,andnowshe’snotevenheretoseeit.Iswallowthatthoughtdown,bitterlikebile.
Icometoastopbesidetheannouncerashefinishesintroducingme—perfecttimingasalways—andflashmybestsmileoutintotheaudience.Morganissittingrightbehindthejudges.Somehow,shelooksjustasnervousasIam.
Theannouncerliftsaglassfishbowloffthestandbesidehimandholdsitouttome.Insidearedozensoffolded-upquestions,oneofwhichI’llhavetospontaneouslyanswerwithsomesemblanceofgrace.Historically,Isuckatit,butCharleneandIhavebeenpracticingthispartthemost.
“Now,dear,”hesays,“pleaseselectyourquestion.”
Islidemyhandinside,shuttingmyeyesquickandsayingalittleprayerthatIgetsomethingeasy.SomethingwhereIcanflashmysmileandsayjusttherightthing.Myfingerscatchonone,andIpullitoutandhandittotheannouncer.
Heunfoldsthepaperandreads:“TellusaboutthepersonyoumostlookuptoandhowtheywillbeyourguidinglightduringyourreignasMissTeenPortwoodCounty.”
Hetiltsthemictowardme.Itakeastepclosertohimandfighttheurgetoclearmythroat—thatwouldbeanunforgiveablenumberofpointsdeducted.
Ipraymyscoreisn’talreadydroppingfrommymomentofsilence,thatIseemthoughtfulandcontemplativeratherthantotallyfreakedout.BecauseIknowwhatIwanttosay.AndIknowwhatthejudgeswanttohear.ButI’mjustnotsurethey’rethesame.
“Thankyou,”Isay,buyingmyselfafewprecioussecondstosteelmynerves.
Hesmilesatmereassuringly.
“Thisyear,thisspring,actually,”Isay,lookingatthejudgeswithanexpressionthatIhopeconveysanopenearnestness,“Ihadtheopportunitytomeetsomeoneveryspecial.Someonewhoreallychangedmyperspectiveonalotofthings.SomeonewhoisbraverthananyoneI’veevermetandlivesbyherprinciplestoalevelIneverthoughtpossible.Shehasanunwaveringfaithinherideals,nomatterhowmuchtheworldtriestotearthemoutofher.Mostofus,weseebadthingsandwelookaway,butnother.NotMorganMatthews.She’sdifferent.”
Ilookatherjustlongenoughtoseehereyesgowide.Sookay,maybethisanswerisalittlemoreintensethanI’dhopedfor,butit’sallI’vegot.
“ImetMorganwhenshetransferredtomyschool,andeverydaysincethen,I’vewatchedherworktomaketheworldabetterplace,notjustforherselfandthepeopledirectlyaroundher,butalsoonagreaterscale.
“MorganandIgotofftoaroughstartwhenIalmosthitherwithmycar.Andthennottoolongafterthat,Iactuallydidhither,eventhoughshe’lltellyoushefell.”
Afewpeoplelaugh.Someonecoughs.Morgansitsstonestill.Watching.
“Somehow,despiteeverything,wegrewcloser.Shetaughtmethatloveandinclusivityarewhatmakeushuman,thatit’sokaytobe…tobewhoeveryouare.”Iswallowhard,tryingtostaypoised,tostayperfect,butIcanfeeleveryone’seyesburningintome.“Morganseesthroughme,tothepersonIreallyam,andbecauseofthat,I’velearnedtoacceptmyself,toembraceit.Tobeproud.”IlookatMorgan,hereyeswellingup,andItakeadeepbreath.“AndIlovethatabouther.That’swhyI’mpicking…That’swhyI’maskingMorgantobemyguidinglight,whetherI’mluckyenoughtobecrownedMissTeenPortwoodCountyornot.BecauseevenintheshorttimethatI’veknownher,I’veseenwhataforceforgoodsheisinthisworld.Iwanttobethattoo.Thankyou.”
ThereisasmatteringofawkwardapplauseasIwalkbacktomyspotintherowofcontestants,nothinglikeLilahorHannahgotafterrespondingtosimilarquestionswith“mymother”and“MeghanMcCain”respectively.
Theannouncermoveson,thankingeveryoneandreadingofftheofficialsponsorswhilethejudgestallyuptheirscores.IpasteonmybestVaselinesmileandstareataspotonthewall,doingeverythingIcantonotlookatMorgan,terrifiedofwhatI’llseeifIdo.
Thenamesofthetenfinalistsarepassedup.Somehow,Imakethecut.Itakemyfinallaparoundthestage,smilingandwavingandprayingthatImakethetopsix,beforereturningtomyspotinline.
Ittakesfartoolongforthejudgestojoinourhostuponstage,theirarmsfullofsashesandbouquets,andI’matremblingmessofnerves.Theannouncerexchangeshislistoffinalistsforthreebrightredenvelopes,openingthefirstonewithapracticedsmile.
“Thesecondrunner-upoftheMissTeenPortwoodCountyCompetitionis…PiaRoth!”theannouncersays,callingheruplikeagameshowhost.Everyoneclapsandcheerswhilesheacceptshersashandflowers.
Therestofuswaitnervouslyinourrow.Wegraboneanother’shandsandholdontight.Later,we’llgobacktobeingfiercecompetitors,butrightnow,we’rejustscaredchildrenwonderingwhichofustheworldlovesthemost.
“Thefirstrunner-upis…”hesays,andIsqueezethehandofgirlnexttome.“HannahBronsky!”
HannahwalksoutforhersashandrosesandtakesherplacebesidePia.Itakeadeepbreath.Onlyonespotleftinthecourt.Buttherearestilleightofusintheline.
“NowIwouldlikeyoualltogiveaverywarmwelcometoournewMissTeenPortwoodCounty…AmberValejo!”
Thecrowdgoeswild,cheeringandclappingasAmberiscrowned.Shedoeshervictorylapto“ThereSheIs,MissAmerica”whilepeoplethrowrosesonthestage
It’sallverydramatic—andslow—andIfighttheurgetograbthefinalscoresheetsoffthejudges’table.
Thecurtainsfinallyshut,andthewinnersclearoff,huggingandcrying,whiletherestofuswaitforplacement.Thereareonlythreechancesleftforthescholarship,buttherearesevenofusstillonstage.Oneofthejudgescomesover,checkingourscoresontheclipboardandpointingatvariousgirls.“Four,”hesays.“Five.”
“Andsix.”Thistime,he’spointingatme.
Ohmygod,Ididit.Irushforwardandhughimashepointstoanothergirlandsays,“Seven.”
“Thankyou,thankyou,thankyou,”Isay,beforebundlingupmyskirtasbestasIcanandrunningoffstage.Idipdownthestepsandpeekoutattheaudience,searchingforMorgan,butshe’snowheretobeseen.Thehighofwinningthescholarshipgiveswaytodisappointment,andmyeyesburnfromthewhiplash.
Maybehercomingherewaslikemegoingtostates.Whatifshewasjustplanningtoghostinandout?Buthertext…
Ahandwrapsaroundmywristanddragsmetoalittlehiddenalcove.Suddenly,we’reface-to-faceforthefirsttimeinwhatfeelslikeforever.Iwanttokisshersobad,butIdon’tknowifshewantsthat.Idon’tknowifthischangesanythingatall.Idon’tknowifItooktoolongtocatchup.
“Hi,”Morgansayswithasmile,andImelt.40
MORGAN
Rubydoesn’tsayanythingforalongtime,andIshiftfromfoottofoot,notentirelysureifshe’shappytoseemeornot.Butherspeech,herspeechsaid“love.”Islidemygripfromherwristtoherhand,rubbingsmallcirclesintoherskinwithmythumb.
“Hi,yourself,”shefinallysayssoftly.Herfaceisamixtureofjoyandapprehension.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Iwastryingtopulloffagrandgesture,butnothingcantopwhatyoujustdid.”
“Infairness,Ididn’tplanit,”Rubysays,hervoicefilledwithnerves.“SoIdon’tknowifitcounts.”
Iletoutalittlelaugh.“Itdefinitelycounts.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,”Isay,andahesitantsmilebreaksacrossherface.“But—”
Ruby’ssmiledisappears.“But?”
“ButI’vebeendoingalotofthinking,andIwantyoutoknowIwaswrong.Iwaswrongaboutalotofthings.AndIdon’twantyoutofeellikeyouhaveto—”
“CanIkissyou?”Rubyasks,andthatshutsmerightup.“BecauseIreallywanttokissyou.”Inodsohardshelaughs.
“I’dlikethat.”Ibarelyhaveachancetogetthewordsoutbeforehermouthisonmine,softandreverent,thebeadsofherbodicescrapingagainstmytanktop,andplease,please,pleaseletthismomentlastforever.
“Imissedyoutoo,”shesays,leaningherforeheadagainstmine,bothofusbreathingalittleharderinthequietofthissecretspaceIfound.“Itriedtotextback,butIgotcalledonstagebeforeIcouldfinish.”
“Thanksforthenote,”Isay,tuckingastrayhairbehindherear.“Andthespeech.Itwas—”
“Toomuch?”
“No,itwas—”
“Overthetop?”
Igentlyputmyhandoverhermouth.“Iwasgoingtosay‘amazing.’”
“Thanks,”Rubysays.
“I’msorryyoudidn’twin.Youdeservedit.Youworkedsohard.”
Rubygrins.“Istillgotthescholarship,though.”
Myeyebrowsshootup.“Really?Ohmygod!That’shuge.”
“Uh-huh,”shesays,absolutelyradiatingwithhappiness.“I’llhaveyouknowthatyouarelookingatthesixth-placefinisherforMissTeenPortwoodCounty.That’sabigdeal,youknow.Ifthefivegirlsinfrontofmesuddenlydropdead,thenIassumethedutiesofthecrown.”
“Wow.”
“Iknow.Imighthaveto,like,cuttheribbononanice-skatingrinkonedayorsomething.”
“Oh,shutup,”Isay.“Youdidit!You’regoingtotheautomotiveprogram!”Ithrowmyarmsaroundherwithoutthinkingbutthenquicklystepback.
Rubyfrowns.“Why’dyoustop?”
“AmIallowedtohugyou?Idon’t…Whataretheruleshere?Like,youkissedme,soIthought…Butthen…”
“Depends,”shesayswithalittlesmirk.
“On?”
“Onwhatyourgrandgesturewasgoingtobe.”
“Um,”Isay,wavingmyhandaroundus,“kindofthis?”
“Hidingbackstagewithme?”sheasks,scrunchinguphereyebrows.
“Sortof.”Iwince.“Iwashopingto,like,stealthilylureyouintoaprivateplaceand—”
“Holyshit.Wasyourwhole‘grandgesture’tomakeoutwithmeinsomedarkcorner?”
“Whenyousayitlikethat…”Isay,blushingfuriously.
Rubystraight-upcackles.“That’sthebestthingI’veeverheard.”
“Shutup.”
“No,really,Irespectit.Totalpowermove.”
Ipushhershoulder,tryingnottolaughalongwithher.“Itwasn’tjustthemakingout,althoughIhadhoped.IalsowantedtoletyouknowthatIknowIwaswrong.Igetthatourcircumstancesaredifferent,andifIhavetowait,ifweneedtokeepthingsquiet…”Ilookather,wantinghertoseehowmuchImeanthis.“Youareabsolutelyworthit.I’vebeenmoremiserablethesepastfewweekswithoutyouthanIcouldeverbewithyou.Idon’twanttoloseyou.Ilove—”
Rubykissesmethen,cuttingoffmywords.“Youareperfect.”
Ismileagain—Ican’thelpit—becausethisfeelsalotlikemakingitwork.“I’mreallynot,butI’mhereforyou,andIwanttobewithyou.”
“Good.”Shekissesmyforehead.“IthinkI’mgonnabecrashingwithBillyuntilIfindmyownplaceorIcangetintostudenthousing.”Shetakesadeepbreath,lookingnervous.“HeknowshowIfeelaboutyou,andsodoesEverly.Butforeverybodyelse,Idon’tknowhowfastIwantto…Idon’tevenknowwhattocallmyselfyet.Bi?Pan?Thelabelthingstillfreaksmeout.Ineedtimetocatchallthewayuptoyou.”
“Youhaveit.”Ikissherfaceallover,notevencaringthatIcantastethefoundationandsettingspray.“Wecangoasfastorslowasyouwant,”Isaybetweenkisses.“Whateverweare,Itrustyoutosetthepace.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”Inod,asenseofhopemakingmybraintingleuntilitfeelslikeafull-bodygrin.“Andifit’sgettingtough,I’llcometoyoubefore—”
“Hey,isyourbrotherhome?”Rubyinterrupts.
Ishakemyhead.“No,he’satwork.Why?”
“Comeon,then.”Rubygrabsmyhand.“Icanthinkofsomeotherwaysweneedtocatchup.”41
RUBY
I’mlyingonMorgan’spillows,watchinghersleep,soakingineverylastdetail.Likethewayhereyelashestangletogether,justalittle,whenhereyesareshutlikethis.Andthewayherlipscurveslightlyintoasmile—eveninherdreams,she’shappy.Andthewaythehickeys,whichIsweartogodIdidn’tmeantogiveher,havebloomedintotinyreddotsonhercollarbone.
It’sbeenthreeweekssincethepageant,andalothasalreadychanged.LikeI’veofficiallyretiredfrompageantlife,whichfeelsgreatbutalittleweirdatthesametime.I’mstillveryoccasionallyhelpingCharlenewithhermakeupclasses,butonlybecauseit’sfunnowthatI’mnotbeingforced.Mostly,Iworkpart-time—onthebooks,even—forBilly,withplanstogofull-timeforthesummer.
I’mstillnotreallytalkingtomymom,butIknowI’llhavetosoon.She’sleftmeacoupleapologeticvoicemails,butI’mjust…notreadyyet.Meanwhile,Billycleanedoutanentireroomforme,eventhoughItoldhimIwasfineonthecouch,andlastweekMorgan’sparentscameup,notintheirowncar,butinagiantrentedU-Haul.Theyaskedmetoopenit,andwhenIdid,Ifounditstuffedwithabedroomsettheyclaimedtohavehad“lyingaround,”eventhoughtherewasaninvoicestuckonthemattressdatedfromthatmorning.
Talkaboutgrandgestures.
AndMorgan,well,she’salreadybacktoworkchangingtheworld.Sheandthisfootballplayeraretryingtostartthisstudentathleterainbowcoalitionthing.They’reinthereallyearlystages,butI’veneverseenherthisfiredupbefore.She’sbeengoingtoralliesandevenguest-speakingatrandomschools’GSAsandstuff.Herboss,Izzie,hasbeenhelpingher.Sometimes,Ievengowithher.
Buttoday,thismorning,Ihavesomethingspecialplannedjustforus.
“Wakeup,sleepingbeauty,”Isay,kissingheronhernose,herforehead,herneck,thespotbehindherearthatmakeshersquirm.Hersleepysmirkturnsintoafull-onsmileassheopenshereyes.
“You’rehere,”shesays,herusualmorninggreeting.Itrynottoletitbothermethatshestillworriesaboutthat.Givenourtrackrecord,Isupposeit’sfair.
“Can’tgetridofmethateasily,Matthews,”Isay,whichismyusualresponse.Shetriestopullmedownunderthecovers.“Nope.”Ipushthemaway.“Youhavetogetup.”
“Why?”shewhines,grabbingherphonetocheckthetime.“It’slikeninea.m.”
“Wepromisedyourfamilywe’dgooutforbrunch,remember?”
“That’snottillten!”Morganrollsover,yankingtheblanketoverherhead.
“Nuh-uh,”Isay,pokingherinthesidewhereshe’sthemostticklish.Sheshrieksandjerksacrossthebed.
“Youareevil.”
“Youlikeit.”Istandandwalktohercloset.
“Yeah,”shegrumbles,finallysittingupinbed,andit’skindofcutehowmuchofamorningpersonsheisn’t
Iflipthroughafewshirts,decidingontheKISSMOREGIRLSshirt,whichearnsmeaneyebrowraisewhenIflingitatheralongwithapairofleggings.“Get.Dressed,”Isay,grabbingherbytheanklesandpullingherdownthebeduntilshegiggles.“I’mgonnagofreshenupinthebathroom,andyoubetterbereadywhenI’mdone.Iwanttostopsomewherefirst.”
“Yes,sir.”ShefakesalutesmejustasIpullthedooropenandseeherbrotherinthehallway.
“Idon’twanttoknow,”hesays.
“Goodmorningtoyoutoo,Dyl,”Icallafterhim,buthejustflipsmeoffwithasmile.Rude.
It’snotlongbeforeI’mback,myteethbrushedwithmyfinger—notthebest,butitworksinapinch—myhairupinabunontopofmyhead.She’sdressedwhenIwalkin,flippingthroughpicturesonherphoneofmeatthepageant.She’skindofobsessedwithrelivingour“epicdoublegrandgesture,”asshecallsit.It’sbecomearunningjokenow,whereIpretendI’mtakingnoteswheneverweseeoneinamovie—andwe’veseenalotlatelythankstoherNetflixrom-comaddiction.Morgansaysnothingwilleverbeabletotopmypageantinterview,butwe’llsee.I’mhopingtodaymight.
“Thisdressissobeautiful,”shesays,runningherhandoverthescreenlikeit’snothanginginmyclosetatBilly’sforhertotouchwhenevershewants.
“Youcanhaveit,”Isay.Idon’tevenknowwhy.
“Weshoulddonateit,”Morgansays,alwaysthinkingofothers.“Thecentergivesoutpromdressestopeoplewhocan’taffordthem.Imaginegoingthereandfindingthis.”
“Okay.”Itakethephonefromherhandsandsetitdownonthedresser.“We’lldonateit.Nowgogetreadyandmeetmeinthecar.”
Shegroans,butIcantellshe’scurious,sooffshegoes.Andlessthantenminuteslater,we’repullingoutofherparkinglot.
“Areyougoingtotellmewherewe’reheaded?”Morganasks.
“Nope,”Isay,squeezingherhand.
Wedrivemostlyincontentedsilence,herfiddlingwiththeradio,turningitupwhenaHarryStylessongcomeson.Itdoesn’ttakelongbeforewe’reparkingatthelibrary.
“Okayyyy.”Morganlooksatmecuriously.
“Comeon,”Isay.
Morganfollowsmeinsidetothelittlecommunityroom.Shescrunchesupherforeheadaswewalkpastthesignannouncingtheschoolartshow.“What’sthis?”
ButIdon’tsayanything.Ijustleadherpasttheceramicsandpaintingstoawallofphotographs.Everly’sseniorproject,HeartEyes.Herartteacherwassoimpressedwithit,shechoseitasoneofthefewprojectstodisplayforthewholetown.
“AretheseEverly’s?She’ssofriggin’talented,”Morgansayssoftly,takingthemallin.She’sseenafewofEverly’sphotosbefore—we’veallbeenhangingoutalotlately—butI’venevershownhertheoneofme.
“Yeah,”Isay,waiting.
“Oh,”Morganwhispers,andIknowshe’sfoundmeamongalltheothershots.Shestepsforward,studyingthepicturebeforeturningbacktome.
“Whoareyoulookingat?”sheasks,andshelooksalittleworried,likeitcouldpossiblybeanyoneelsebuther.
Iswallowhard.“Um,you.”
Morgan’sfacebreaksoutintoasmile.“Really?”
Inod.
“Whenwasthis?”
Ibitemylipandtakeadeepbreath.“Thatdayyouhitmycarandstolemyseat.”
“Noway,”Morgansays.“Thatwasmyfirstday.”
“Yep,”Isay,watchingMorganreadthelittletagbesideit.
RUBYTHOMPSON
“FirstCrush”
“Ohmygod.”Hereyeslookalittleglassy.“Ithoughtyouhatedme!”
“Iknow.That’swhyIwantedtoshowyouthis.HowIreallyfeltbackthen.”
“Ruby—”
“Thelabel’swrong,though,”Iinterrupt,andMorgantiltsherhead.“It’snotacrush.”
“Ruby.”Hervoicegoesquiet.
“Iloveyou,”Isay,thewordsrushingoutbeforeIlosemynerve.“AndIknowthisischeesyashell,butI’dliketobeyourgirlfriend.Officially.Ifthat’scool.”
“Whathappenedto‘nolabels’?Youdon’thaveto—”
“Iknow.Iwantto.”Ilacemyfingerswithhers.“Itfeelsright.”
Shesmiles,tearingup.“Well,thisdefinitelytopsthespeech.”
“Isthatayes?”Iask.Because,foronce,it’smewhoneedsthewords.
“Yes,”shesays,movingcloseruntilwe’recompletelyface-to-face.“I’dloveforyoutobemygirlfriend,Ruby.AndIloveyoutoo.”
ItipforwardtillIfeelherlipsagainstmine,andthenIpoureveryounceofmyselfintoourkiss.Mywholelifemightbeanever-endingseriesofquestionmarksrightnow,butthisI’msureof.ThisIwant.
“Comeon,then,”Isaywhenwefinallypullapart.“Iwanttotakemygirlfriendtobrunch.”
Morgansmiles,lookingatthepictureoncemore,thenreachesformeaswewalkout.ItakeherhandandsqueezelikeIhaveahundredtimesbefore.Butthistimefeelsdifferent.
Thistime,Idon’teverwanttoletgo.ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Somanyincrediblepeopleplayedapartingettingthisbookintoyourhands.
Ahugethank-youto:
Myeditor,StephaniePitts,forreallyunderstandingtheheartofthisstoryandhelpingmebringittolife.JenKlonskyforyourongoingsupportandenthusiasm;MattPhippsforallofyourhelp;mypublicist,LizzieGoodell,alongwithFelicityVallance,JamesAkinaka,andeveryoneatPutnamandPenguinTeenforallofyoursupport.
Jeff?stbergforanothergorgeousillustration,andKelleyBradyforpullingitalltogetherintoastunningcoverdesign.
Mywritercoven,KarenStrongandIsabelSterling,whomIwouldbeabsolutelylostwithout.Also,KelseyRodkeyforcontinuallyremindingmebooksneedplotsandnotjustkissingandangst,andRoryPowerforkeepingmesaneandsupplyingmewithconstantcatpics(andScallyforbeingawillingandsometimesunwillingmodel).
BeckyA.foralwaysbeingashouldertocryon/amazingcheerleader/all-aroundfantasticfriend—loveyou!SophieforkeepingmyDMsinterestingandmyskinglowing,andRachelLynnSolomonforraisingthebarandmakingmewanttobeabetterwriter(thatyearbook,though).
Claribel,whoinspiresmetonoend,evenifheropinionsonPennywiseleavealottobedesired;Sarahforalwaysbeingthere;Roseyforconstantcatpicsandlove;andeveryoneinkidlitwhoholdsspaceforqueerauthors,outandotherwise.
ShannonandJeff,whosimultaneouslymanagetopumpmeupandmakesuremyheaddoesn’tgettoobigallatonce.Dennis,whoistrulythebestbigbrotherIcouldeveraskfor,andtoallmyfamilyforyourloveandenthusiasticsupport.Joe,Brody,andLivforconstantlyinspiringmeandmakingmelaugh.
Andlastbutcertainlynotleast,toallofmyreaders,thankyouforshowinguptimeandagain.Thisbookisforyou.ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
AmberHooper
JENNIFERDUGANisawriter,ageek,andaromanticwhowritesthekindsofstoriesshewishesshe’dhadgrowingup.She’stheauthoroftheyoungadultnovelsVeronaComicsandHotDogGirl,whichEntertainmentWeeklycalled“agreat,fizzyrom-com”andPastemagazinedeclared“oneofthebestreadsoftheyear,handsdown.”Thewriter/creatoroftwoindiecomics,shelivesinupstateNewYorkwithherfamily,herdogs,herbelovedbeardeddragon,andanevilcatthatisnodoubtplanningtotakeovertheworld.
YoucanvisitJenniferat
JLDugan.com
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