Every Other Weekend(32)
Greg hadn’t died in a pond or trapped beneath ice. He’d come home that day half-frozen but exhilarated, laughing as he told Mom about his latest rescue over a steaming cup of hot cocoa.
“Weren’t you scared?” I’d asked him.
“Sure,” he’d said, sucking a marshmallow into his mouth. “But I was more scared of watching a little girl witness her cat drown and seeing the panic in that animal’s eyes and knowing I could have helped but didn’t.” He’d grinned at me. “Plus, I’ve got thick skin. A little ice wouldn’t have hurt me.” But his teeth were still chattering, and there’d been a blue tinge lingering on his lips despite the hot cocoa.
Later that night I’d heard Dad tell him he had to be more careful. Dad said he knew better than to tell Greg to let the next animal go, but to think of all of us, his mom, his little brothers, and how we would feel if he didn’t come home. Greg had given Dad his promise.
But we’d still buried him a year later.
And there I was in Erica Porter’s kitchen, surrounded by the cookie jars that her mom collected, trying not to let tears track down my face. Instead I tried to focus on her, on Erica and the way her gaze kept lowering to my mouth.
Part of me knew what might happen, in that moment when it was just Erica and me and she was much too close and moving closer. The surprising thing was that, even though I’d thought about it for years, once it was happening, something felt off. It was more than the raw memory of my brother still wrapped around me, messing with my head. I’d expected to be more excited. Well, I was, but mostly I couldn’t help thinking that Erica’s hair wasn’t long enough, and that I wished her teeth weren’t so perfectly spaced. But it was one of those foggy thoughts that pass through the mind without any substance or lasting power. It had no sooner formed than it dissipated, and the girl of my dreams was an inch away from me. Only an idiot would have let that moment pass by.
I wasn’t an idiot.
FOURTH WEEKEND
November 6–8
Jolene
Adam had become a parasite in my life, except not the gross tapeworm kind that coils in your intestines and steals all the nutrients from your body. He was like the benevolent kind that massaged your muscles and brain cells simultaneously, making you smarter and stronger at the same time. I didn’t think that kind of parasite existed, but, how awesome would it be if they did? I would call them Adamites.
Adam took exception to my parasitic metaphor.
“I’m the parasite? Me? You’re the one who climbed into my room!”
“After you climbed onto my balcony.”
“Still, you are clearly the parasite in this relationship. Also, I’m pretty sure the Adamites were an early cult of some kind.”
“Why do you have to be such a know-it-all all the time? Fine, we’ll change the name. How about something with worm? A lot of parasites have worm in the name.”
“How about we stop calling me a parasite entirely?”
“Even a muscle-growing, brain-building kind?”
“Yes. And how do you figure anyway?”
“Well. I used to spend my weekends here watching movies in my room. Ever since you moved in, we go places, we talk about stuff. I’m moving and thinking. Those are the exact parasitic perks I attributed to you.”
“Huh.”
“What does huh mean in this context?”
“I’m mildly less insulted.”
“Oh, good. I did mildly mean to insult you as well as compliment you, so...where are we going anyway?”
“What do you mean where are we going? I was following you.”
It was Saturday afternoon and Adam and I were apparently wandering aimlessly around the neighborhood. It was one of those perfect snowy days. Everything was blanketed in white, and the snow had that iced edge to it that made it glitter in the bright sunlight and crunch underfoot. There was no wind, no clouds. It was the kind of cold that made everything, including the air, feel clean.
Adam hadn’t bothered with a hat or anything beyond his coat with the fleece collar. I was already regretting my scarf. It was almost too warm.
“We could walk around,” I said. “Shoot the breeze, chew the fat, bandy words.”
“That’s all we do anyway. Not all we do, but whatever we’re doing, we always talk.”
“I know, but you realize there is still a ton we don’t know about each other. We sort of skipped the usual Q&A that most people go through.”
Adam laughed. “’Cause we knew we were going to be stuck with each other regardless.”
“Exactly.”
“It worked out though.”
“As far as you know. What if you find out I’m a closeted Trekkie or I discover you’re a Bronie?”
“What’s a Bronie?”
“A guy who likes My Little Pony.”
Adam’s voice boomed, “WHO TOLD YOU?” When I stopped laughing, he said, “See? It’s too late. We’re already friends.”
“I still have questions.”
“I guess I do, too. You never told me much about that film program.”
I hunched my shoulders a little. “It’s not a big deal,” I said, fiddling with the zipper on my jacket. “There’s a thing in LA for high school students. If I get accepted, I’ll get to learn all about moviemaking and, in my case, directing.”