Bright Before Sunrise(42)

“True or false,” says Jonah when Amelia’s excessive cheer dies off. “Being mean to Brighton’s like kicking a puppy.”

“Who is this? Jeremy? Did she go to the party without us? True. Though, not her puppy; Never’d slobber you to death. Who is this? Is she okay?”

“I’m fine, Amelia,” I call.

“There you are! What’s going on? Is someone being mean to you? Hold on—speakerphone—Peter, someone’s being mean to Brighton.”

“What? Our Brighton? Who?” He sounds baffled and angry. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. No one’s being mean.”

“Where are you?” Peter asks while Amelia adds, “Are you sure?”

“Hamilton,” answers Jonah.

“Need us to come get you?” I can already hear Peter’s keys jingling in the background.

“Why Hamilton?” I wince at the insult in Amelia’s tone.

“I’m going to a party here.”

“Party? Whose?”

“A friend of a friend’s. It’s fine. Promise.”

“Which friend? We have the same friends! Who are you with? I feel like I should ask in case the cops are looking for you in the morning.” Amelia’s voice is one part concern and one part melodrama.

“Jonah Prentiss,” he answers.

“Jonah? The new guy, Jonah?” In the pause before she continues I count in my head: 1-2-3-4. “Brighton …”

“I’m fine.”

“I know who that is. He used to be a hell of a baseball player,” adds Peter.

“We don’t know him. We don’t know you, Jonah,” states Amelia. “So you’re definitely a no-go on Jeremy? I really thought you’d like him. Wait, I thought you were babysitting. How’d you end up in Hamilton?”

“I was babysitting Jonah’s sister. It’s fine and I’m fine. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I ignore her Jeremy remarks. I’d told her I wasn’t interested before she set us up on the surprise movie date, after the movie date, and at least five times a day all week. Jeremy’s a great guy, just not right for me.

“No. Wait. Speakerphone off, B.”

I roll my eyes, but take the phone from Jonah, hit the button, and hold it to my ear. “Yes?”

“Do we like him?” she asks in her most serious voice.

“We don’t know him, remember?”

“But could we like him? Please tell me this is not just about the volunteer thing. It’s totally unfair for Mr. Donnelly to put so much pressure on you because he wants his name hanging in the hall. Please don’t do anything stupid over that. Jonah’s cute. Tell me this is because he’s cute.”

“It’s not like that.” Or it isn’t just about the volunteer thing. I wish I could explain what it is like—but then I’d have to understand it myself.

“I don’t believe you. But you’re okay? Safe and stuff? Promise?”

“Yes. I’ll call you tomorrow. ’Night, Ames.” I hang up and start handing Jonah the phone before remembering it’s mine and tucking it into my purse.

“I proved my point. Both of them jumped to your defense.” He’s a few steps farther away than I remember, kicking the curb.

“Of course they did, and not because they think I’m helpless—they’re my friends.” I hope crossing the distance between us emphasizes my next point. “I can’t wait to meet yours.”

We both turn to look at the house. The front door, which had been sealing in the music and conversations, opens to reveal a couple attached at the lips. Their bodies are entangled, and they stumble down the steps without breaking off their kiss.

I look away from them to Jonah. Does he kiss like that, like the only thing preventing him from suffocating is someone else’s lips? Carly’s lips, I mean.

I’m blushing and staring and he notices.

“What exactly were you answering with ‘We don’t know him’? How much of a loser Amelia thinks I am?”

“No! Not at all.” We’re standing far too close, but I’m not backing off now. If he wants space, he can step back. But I can’t answer either. My cheeks are already flaming; if I admit she was asking if I like him, I might combust. “Cross Pointe isn’t evil, it’s not unfriendly. You just need to give people a chance to get to know you. Tonight, I’ll come to this party with you, and maybe next week you and Carly can come to one with Amelia and me. At least think about it.”

He snorts. “Oh yes, we’d love that.”

“Come on,” I say taking a step toward the driveway. “Let’s go inside and I’ll invite her myself.”





23

Jonah

11:03 P.M.


O’CRAP O’CLOCK


The closer we get to Jeff’s door, the more conflicted I feel about Carly. It’s like all my anger has iced over. I don’t know what I want to do anymore. Flaunt Brighton to make her jealous. Apologize. Yell. Pretend I don’t care. Actually stop caring.

It’s just that walking down this driveway, I can practically see the ghost of past parties. We’d be the couple kissing on the front steps. Or fighting on the driveway. Or dominating at Ping-Pong on the old, lopsided table in the basement. Or, most often, I’d be the guy stuck holding her beer so she could use both hands to reenact some gossip for her over-eager and easily amused audiences.