Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac(36)

I would have understood if it had been Ace—maybe he was saving face, or maybe that was how he actually saw things? In any case, I did not go out of my way to set the record straight. People could think what they wanted to. Screw them.

6

I STILL HADN’T TOLD WILL ABOUT THE PLAY. Maybe it was because I felt like I was betraying him; maybe it was plain cowardice. I was late to yearbook about half the time and I let him think I was either with tutors or at the doctor. If my chronic tardiness annoyed him, Will was too much of a friend to let on.

He probably wouldn’t have found out about it at all, if Bailey Plotkin hadn’t shown up to photograph rehearsals. Bailey was the arts photographer for The Phoenix, the same position I’d held my freshman year, according to that year’s masthead. If I’d been paying any attention to yearbook matters, I might have guessed someone from the staff would eventually come.

Bailey was a mellow person in general, and he didn’t appear particularly surprised to see me. “I didn’t know you were in the play, Naomi. Cool,” was pretty much all he said about the matter. Still, I knew I had to tell Will, and preferably before he saw the pictures.

I went to the yearbook office as soon as rehearsal was over, and Will barely glanced up at me when I came into the room. He asked me if I’d had time to look over the cover mock-ups. I hadn’t, so I went to do that. The cover Will liked was all white with just the words The Phoenix in raised black text, all caps, right justified, halfway down the page. It was extremely plain and not the sort of thing you usually see on a high school yearbook. He had mentioned that it was a reference to an album or a book, but I hadn’t been paying enough attention. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it yet.

For the next two hours until yearbook was over, Will said nothing to me about the play. He was all business the whole time: very polite questions and no wisecracks. This was unlike him and only confirmed my belief that he already knew but was waiting for me to bring it up.

At the end of the meeting, I asked him for a ride home. “So that we can talk,” I added. He was quiet on the walk out to the parking lot. It was the end of October and I felt a chill, but it wasn’t from the weather. That fall had been particularly mild, and I was wearing a hoodie and a parka besides. I think the chill might have been something like déjà vu. I felt as if I had taken this very same walk before. Of course, I had. I had gotten many rides from Will since I’d been back at school, but there was something specifically familiar that I couldn’t quite identify.

“Are you cold?” he asked me when we were halfway to the parking lot. “I should have offered you my gloves.”

I shook my head. Will was always so concerned about me—even now, when he likely knew I’d been lying to him for weeks. It made me feel like the smallest person in the world.

When we got to the car, he stood there for a second without unlocking the doors.

“So?” I said.

“So, you’re the one who wanted to talk, Chief.”

“Well, um, in the car’s fine,” I said.

“I’d rather hear it here,” Will said.

I told him. “I’m in the play. I don’t know why I didn’t mention it before. That thing about the additional therapy was a lie.” I glanced over the roof of his car to see his reaction. He didn’t have one really, so I rambled on. “It happened almost by accident,” I continued, “but it’s only another two weeks, and then I’ll be back full-time.”

Will nodded for a second before replying, “You had sure as hell better comp me, Chief.” He loosened his school tie and then he laughed, so I asked him what was funny. “The thing is, I’d been afraid you were going to quit.”

“Why?”

“For the last couple of weeks, we’ve barely spoken. At least now I know there was a reason.”

I assumed he meant the play.

“And your heart hasn’t really been in it for a while. It’s only natural that I wondered. I want you to know I would probably have understood if you had quit with everything that’s happened to you, but I’m relieved that you didn’t.”

Will unlocked the doors to his car and we got in.

“The play…is it fun?” he asked me.

“Yeah, it is,” I admitted.

“I’m glad.” Will nodded and then he started the car.

When he got to my house, he asked if he could come in. He said he hadn’t seen my dad in a while.

I asked him why in the world he wanted to see my dad.

“Well, I really like his books. We’re pals, Grant and me.”

I told him that Dad was probably writing.

“Come on, Chief,” he said. “I haven’t been over to your house in eons.”

We went inside, but Dad wasn’t even there. Instead of leaving, Will sat down at the kitchen table. “I heard you and Zuckerman broke up,” he said.

“Yeah.” I didn’t really want to talk about it with Will, but he wasn’t taking the hint.

“Why?” Will asked.

“Because he hated my hair,” I said.

“I always thought he was a dick,” Will said.

“A dick?”

Will blushed for a second. “Maybe not a dick, but not good enough for you.”

“He’s okay.”