Every Other Weekend(76)

My eyes fell shut in relief. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then tell me you know I’m right.”

But she didn’t, and I realized that she couldn’t, not after everything that had happened with her mom and Mrs. Cho. I was going to keep telling her though. And I’d show her, too. “I am right. About all of it. Even you sobbing as I leave to catch my flight.” I told myself that that last part made her smile. “And I’m sorry about Mrs. Cho.”

Jolene let out a sigh that was an acknowledgment of the sympathy I offered, but not much else. I probably had pushed her too far and, more than anything, when we hung up, I wanted her to feel better than when I’d called her. I wasn’t doing a great job of making that happen yet.

“Leaving aside your wretched mom, you know that Mrs. Cho isn’t the only one who cares about you just because, right? I mean, I’m right here on the phone. At least wait until we’ve hung up before you dismiss me out of hand.”

Jolene laughed a little. “I forgot about your fragile boy emotions.”

“And we’re back to making fun of me.” I hoped she could hear me smiling.

“You want an ego boost?”

I wanted anything she wanted to give me. “Sure.”

She laughed again, but when she started talking, she sounded completely serious. “I like that you’re such a huge nerd that you sat up watching the clock so you could call me the second it was officially my birthday.”

“Anytime you want to start with that ego boost.”

“You want me to tell you that I like talking to you better than I like sleeping? You want me to tell you that no one has ever given me a midnight birthday call and that fact that you did means I don’t think I’ll ever be as cool as you are to me right now?”

“For starters,” I said, going for a lame joke because my face felt so hot that it was borderline uncomfortable, which meant I was reaching record-breaking blushing territory. Since I knew Jolene would like hearing that, I told her.

“Yes!” was her response, hissing the word so that it tickled my ear through the phone. “You did that just for me, didn’t you?”

I did blush for her. I almost always blushed for her.

When she spoke again, her voice started to crack, and she had to swallow and start again. “You’re a really good friend, Adam Moynihan. Better than the best.”

“You’re worth being a really good friend to, Jolene Timber. I hope I get to be there when you realize that.” For some reason, that made her cry, though she tried to hide that from me, I could hear it. “You know, if you lived near me, or I had a license, I’d be at your window right now with one of those gross banana cupcakes that you like. Wait, no, I’d be wearing a trench coat, and I’d have found a giant old stereo in a pawnshop or something and I’d be holding it above my head playing...playing...” I smacked my palm against my head trying to remember the song from the John Cusack movie she’d made me watch a few weeks ago.

“It’s Peter Gabriel’s ‘In Your Eyes.’”

“‘In Your Eyes.’”

“That’s pretty much the biggest romantic moment in movie history,” she told me. Her voice was back. So was my blush.

“It’s possible I might have fallen asleep during part or all of that movie.”

Her laughter was a little shaky, but it told me she wasn’t mad about my narcoleptic tendencies. “I’m surprised you remembered even that one scene.”

“You rose up on your knees at that point, and you were digging your nails into my arm the second the song started. Not real sleep conducive.”

“I love that scene. I love that whole movie, but can I still get the cupcake?”

“The fake cupcake that doesn’t exist? Sure, you can have it.”

“Did you put a candle in it?”

“I put sixteen candles in it. You can’t even tell it’s a cupcake anymore. It basically looks like a wrapper full of fire.”

“Sounds perfect. And you’d sing to me?”

“Nope, because that sounds as far from perfect as you can imagine. But I would sort of speak the words to you in an almost singing way that you’d really like.”

“I think I would like that.”

“Next year,” I told her, making a promise to myself as much as her. “It’ll be just like that—your birthday, midnight, me at your window, a gross banana cupcake, but with seventeen candles in it.”

“I actually believe you’ll do that.”

“If I wasn’t chronologically challenged at the moment, I’d do it now.”

“Thanks, Adam.”

“Happy birthday, Jolene.”





   Jolene

Shoes in hand, I tiptoed down the stairs and slipped out the front door on Tuesday morning, my first as an official sixteen-year-old, sighing with relief when I made it down the driveway without Mom noticing I’d left. I rounded the corner and sped up with a grin when I saw Gabe’s minivan only to slow when I noticed Cherry in the back seat.

I couldn’t afford to stand there feeling confused, so I kept walking and let myself into the passenger seat. I said hi to Gabe, then immediately twisted in my seat, and addressed Cherry. “Hey. So no more grounding?”