The Best Possible Answer(46)

What is she doing? “Um, sure?”

Evan gives me a funny look. It’s a look of betrayal. Of distrust. Like he knows that the girl who kissed him and then went crazy and threw him away is lying to him. Again.

“Maybe,” he says. “We’ll see.” He grabs his rescue tube and heads toward the water.

“What was that?”

“I know you’re in crisis mode, but I’m not giving up on you.”

“You honestly think that getting into a relationship with someone is going to be the thing that helps me?”

“No,” she says. “I think confronting your parents and demanding that they pay for the many years of therapy they owe you is going to be the thing that helps. But you have to face the truth, Vivi. Besides me, you don’t have anyone else. And I’m leaving the city in a month. So having another friend, someone like Evan, who genuinely likes you, who genuinely cares about you, can’t hurt, either.”

“Ugh.” I slide into my chair. “I really hate you sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know,” she says. “Because you know I’m right. I’m always right.”

*

The rains come again a few hours later, complete with a cold wind, lightning and thunder, and small chunks of hail. Professor Cox doesn’t want to get out of the water, even though he’s getting blasted by ice, and Virgo has to yell at him that the pool is closed and that if he doesn’t get out, he’ll have to call security. That doesn’t work, either, but Professor Cox gets out when Evan finally yells, “Okay, then, Professor Cox, how about the police?”

He scrambles out of the water and runs out of the pool area, leaving his towel on a chair.

Evan and Virgo duck into the office out of the hail.

“I feel bad,” Evan says. “I shouldn’t have threatened him with the police.”

Virgo asks, “Do you think he’ll be teaching in the fall?”

“No,” Sammie says. “He’s going on a sort of emergency sabbatical for a year. My mom’s been helping to advocate for him. But I don’t know if she’s going to help as much after we move.”

“You’re moving?” Virgo asks. “Where to?”

“The suburbs.” Sammie sticks her finger in her mouth and fake gags.

“A new school for senior year?” Evan says. “That sucks.”

“Well, maybe,” Sammie says. “I’m thinking about getting my GED this fall and taking classes at the local community college in the spring.”

This is news to me. “You’re going to do what?”

“I’ve been talking to my mom about it. I don’t want to start over twice—first at a new high school, and then again when I go to college next year. She’s a little worried about me being by myself so much, but she also agrees that I’m old enough to decide for myself. She told me to take a few weeks to think about it. I mean, she hasn’t even rented a new place yet. Our lease is up in September, so I have some time to figure it out.”

I know Sammie is going through so much, like me—losing her dad last year, now moving out of the city—but I can’t help feeling a little bit jealous that she’s dealing with it all so well, that she’s figuring things out.

“That sounds very cool,” Virgo says. “I think you’ve got to do what’s right for you.”

Evan pulls out his guitar and strums a few chords. “Sometimes that’s easier said than done.”

The hail beats down harder now. The chunks are pretty substantial, the size of small pebbles. They crack and burst on the cement. Virgo shuts the office door. “This storm is crazy.”

Evan plucks at his guitar. He plays a few scales and then starts to hum. He looks up at me and smiles.

“Play something for us,” I say. “I want to hear you sing.”

I can feel the surprise in the room, from Evan especially.

“Really?” he asks.

“Yes, really.”

“What do you want me to play?”

“I don’t know. Anything. Something you wrote?”

Evan leans into his guitar and begins with a soft song. It’s so quiet, at first, that I can hardly hear it, what with the pounding of the hail above. But then his volume picks up and he begins to strum at a quick rhythm. He starts to sing. His voice is smooth and clear. I recognize the subject of the song. I recognize the time and the place. I recognize the moment. “Follow me into the water,” he sings, “away from the falling sky, where we’ll dance, maybe kiss, maybe question the world. I’ll swim into your arms. How quiet it will be.”

He finishes the song, and Virgo and Sammie explode into applause.

“Evan,” Sammie exclaims, “I had no idea! You’re amazing!”

“I don’t know about amazing,” he says. “But thanks. That means a lot to me.”

He looks up at me. “What’d you think?”

I want to cry. Here’s this person, this nice, kind, gentle person. He likes me. He asks me how I am. He writes songs about me. Back in June, when we were having real conversations about parents and life and our desires for more, he was nice and funny and kind.

And yet. It’s the wrong time. I can’t return the feeling. I’m empty. I have nothing left inside to give.