You'd Be Home Now (49)

I look at myself in the mirror.

Plain.

Maddie would be in here dusting her face, contouring, lining her eyes, arranging her hair, and would emerge flawless, perfect.

But I’m not Maddie.

Downstairs, Joey is munching his sandwich, spilling daintily sliced strands of lettuce on his lap.

“Hey,” he says. “Can you help?”

“Um…” I hesitate. “What’s up?” I don’t want to be late to get to Gage’s, so I’m speaking fast.

“I don’t get these problems in Nicholson’s class. I just don’t…like, the problems are confusing.”

“I’m kind of going somewhere.”

Joey puts his sandwich down. He frowns. “Where? It’s a school night.”

I take a deep breath. “Over to Gage’s. He wanted help on a paper.”

Joey’s eyes widen. “Gage? Like, next door Gage?”

“Yes.” I hold my breath, watching his face.

“Why would he ask you for help?”

“What?”

“He has an academic tutor. All the athletes do. So they can stay on the team. He doesn’t need you.”

    “W-well,” I stammer. “I mean, we were talking and he asked, is all.”

“Emmy, he’s Gage Galt. It’s just weird that he would ask you.”

There’s a tiny sliver of suspicion in my brother’s voice and it hurts me. I knew it. Even though he said anyone would be lucky to have me, he doesn’t think it’s possible “anyone” would include someone like Gage.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask him slowly.

“Nothing. Sorry.”

Joey pushes the bread of his hoagie with a finger. “I just really need your help, Emmy. I wouldn’t ask, I know I’m supposed to be doing it all myself, but I’m so tired. You got to do your homework at Hank’s. It’s almost nine-thirty and I’m just starting mine.”

His shoulders sag. He drops his head in his hands. I think back to when he first got home from Blue Spruce, how his head was high.

It seems to have been dropping lower and lower the longer he’s been back.

“Can’t you…can’t you text your tutor or something?”

“I can’t text her this late,” he says softly. “Just forget it. It’s fine.”

My phone pings.


U coming



I look at my brother, hunched over the table, his sandwich forgotten, the circles under his eyes prominent from working late and studying late. My mom is working him too hard, and it isn’t fair. And here I am trying to get away from him so I can go kiss a boy in his bedroom.

    I take a deep breath. “It’s okay, Joey. It’s all right.”

My heart deflating, I take off my sweater, hang it on the back of the dining room chair, and sit down.

“Show me,” I say. “Show me where you’re having problems.”

Joey pushes his iPad to me.

My phone lights up, but I turn it off.

“Here,” Joey says quietly. “This stuff. It makes no sense to me.”

My brother smells of oil and onions, and he’s so tired, he can’t even finish his sandwich and his eyelids are drooping.

“Let me,” I say. “I’ll do it. Just go up to bed, okay? I’ll finish.”

“I can’t let you do that, Em. I won’t learn it. I have to learn it for the test.” He’s whispering.

“You can ask Amber about it tomorrow. She can talk you through it.”

“Emmy.”

“Go, Joey. Just go.”



* * *



—

I finally get to bed at midnight after finishing Joey’s math and then the flashing of my phone wakes me up. It’s 2:14 in the morning and my eyes struggle to read the text.


Come to the window

Why

Just do it



I get out of bed and limp to my window, parting the drapes. Fuzzy snuffles and rearranges herself on my bed.

Gage is in his own window, looking back, wearing a white T-shirt and gray pajama pants.


I missed you tonight

You did?

Yeah

I missed you, too



He holds up his phone and takes a photograph of me, the flash pinging like a star.

Hey! What was that for? I type.


Because I missed you. You look cute all sleepy like that



Okay then. I smile.

I hold up my phone, take a picture of him.


How do you like it!



He’s looking at his phone.


Raise your shirt a little

What



I stare at him. Take a step back.


Like with your hand, so I can see your skin No

I’ve seen it before. It’s just a picture. I have to go to a pitching camp this weekend. Need something to remember you with. For…you know.



I stare at the words of his text.


Just raise it a little



    There’s a warmth spreading through me that’s kind of confusing but also feels good. I put my phone on the windowsill, take a fistful of my T-shirt, and raise it along my belly.