A Tragic Kind of Wonderful(55)

I love HJ and she’s the closest anyone comes to being like Nolan and me, but she doesn’t get it as much as she thinks. Mom gets it less and Dad doesn’t get it at all. Nolan was just like me, or I’m just like he was, and sometimes I can’t bear how much I miss him. He was the only one who would have completely understood.

Something occurs to me. I can’t believe it never has before. I take out my phone, turn it on, and take a picture of Nolan’s scratches. Now I’ll still have it if the city ever repaves this sidewalk. As I move my finger to quickly switch the phone back off, I see Zumi sent me an e-mail, a reply to the big one I sent this morning.

I’m sorry Mel. I can’t even tell you how much. I don’t know how.

Connor has been pissed at me for only two days and it’s unbearable. It makes me think how you must have felt except I was pissed at you for over a year. God I’m sorry.

I hope you never have to hear Connor shout at you. Sunday after we left your house he yelled at me all the way back to my place and it was awful. I hadn’t told anyone I liked Annie. I hadn’t even come out. I can’t blame you for hooking up with her when I never said anything. Especially when she was the one who came on to you and you didn’t even want to, but just sort of had this thing happen to you.

And me not figuring it out wasn’t even what made Connor so angry. I didn’t want to admit it was my fault so I tried to argue. I said I mostly hated how you went behind my back and kept it a secret. That’s when he really blew up.

He said something like “Mel could have thrown Annie under the bus to stay friends with us, but she knew it would hurt you too much to find out Annie DID like girls but just not YOU, that she was NEVER going to love YOU!”

I said I’d rather have known the truth but he just got angrier because you DID try to tell me back then and I ran you out of my house!

The last thing he said was “If you can’t see how big a sacrifice she made for you then fuck, Zumi, I don’t know, I really don’t know.” Then he drove away and wouldn’t answer my calls for two days. It was terrible. The next time I saw him was this morning when he showed up at my house and made me read your email about everything and how hard it’s been for you.

Typing all this is making me sick. God I feel horrible. I’m so sorry. Please let me make it up to you. You’re a better friend than Annie ever was and I don’t want to lose you again.

Please?

I drop the phone in my lap.

Seeing Zumi this upset after being exposed to the real me for less than a day, how can I stay friends with her? I hate drama and now with everything out in the open, it can’t be avoided. It was my fault, letting people get too close— “Are you okay?”

It’s some guy in his thirties, on a bike. He wears multicolored Lycra shorts and a jersey.

I stand up. I don’t want to alarm anyone. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I just … lost somebody.”

He frowns. “I’m sorry. There’s going to be netting under the bridge soon. I know it’s too late for whomever you lost, but …”

I smile and walk back the way I came. I try to concentrate on what to do now. Mom and Dad are probably close and if they find me they’re going to put me in a hospital. I need to hide someplace and figure out how to switch off the phone tracker so I can talk to them without them finding me until I can convince them to just let me come home.

Maybe I can call Connor to come get me. He’s the only one I can think of who might be able to help but also stay a safe distance. And I can trust him … except … he didn’t know the truth about me before. That changes everything. I remember from when Nolan would ramp up, how everyone seems to think it’s okay to lie to people like us if it’s for our own good. Now that Connor knows the truth, maybe I can’t even trust him anymore— My phone rings. It’s David.

Perfect. He doesn’t know what’s going on.

I answer. “Hi, David.”

“Hey, Mel. Sorry I’ve been out of touch. I busted my phone on Sunday. I got a new one today and I’m … ah … calling to see how your spring break is going.”

“Where are you?”

“In the city. I’m just about to head home—”

“Can you pick me up? I’m at the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“Um, sure. How’d you get up here?”

“I’ll tell you later. I’ll be at the café in a few minutes. You know where that is? Below the—”

“I know it. I can be there in a couple minutes, maybe before you if you’re not already there.”

“Great, thanks.”

I turn off my phone and start jogging.

In a few minutes, I trot down the stairs to the parking lot. David was right; he got here before me. I hop in his car.

“Nice shirt,” he says. “Are those zombie teddy bears?”

“Yeah.” I tuck my feet to the side so he can’t see I’m barefoot.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Take you home?”

“No! Can we … can we go to your house instead? I’d like to see it.”

“Um, okay.” He combs his fingers through the hair over his forehead, checks for traffic in the mirrors, and then puts the car in gear. We pull away from the curb.