Letters to Nowhere(62)

“I just figured we’d park somewhere and make out in the backseat,” he said as he put my car in reverse. My eyes must have gotten huge because he laughed really hard. “Jesus, I’m kidding. We’re going bowling.”

“I don’t think I’ve been bowling since I was old enough to stop using the bumper things.”

“I know. Blair told me.”

Butterflies flapped inside my stomach. I didn’t know why I was so nervous. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been alone with Jordan. It just seemed like forever since I’d kissed him, and he was acting so formal and official.

Once we got to the bowling alley, Jordan left me with old smelly bowling shoes while he went to order us some food, returning a few minutes later.

After eating at the end of the bowling lane, we were finally ready to play. I picked out a heavy pink ball.

“Do not drop that on your toe,” Jordan instructed, standing behind me.

I rolled my eyes at him. “Thanks, Coach.”

The ball was tossed down the lane after it landed with a ground–shaking thud. It rolled into the gutter before reaching the halfway point.

“Nice try…” Jordan said.

I gave him a shove toward the lane. “Okay, go ahead if you’re so good.”

“You get two turns, Karen.”

I managed to knock a few pins down on my second turn and got better with each one that followed. After two games, we were back in the car.

“There’s a play at my school at eight,” Jordan said, adjusting the mirror. “It’s kind of lame, but we could probably make it in time if you want?”

A school play? That could be an item for a Normal Teenage Activity Checklist. “What’s the play?”

“Some twisted version of The Wizard of Oz, I think.” He grinned at me and I didn’t have any answer except yes.

***

“I got that the wicked witch is the old man, but what’s the deal with the kids dressed as birds?”

Jordan laughed and guided me outside of the school building. “No idea. That was the weirdest play I’ve ever seen and it’s only intermission. No wonder I haven’t been to a school theater performance in nearly four years.”

“The head old man has a great voice,” I pointed out.

“He’s the choir director,” Jordan said, laughing even harder. “He’s not even a student. I think they ran out of students to fill all the roles. They kept announcing all these additional auditions after the initial one, so I kind of figured they were hunting for more people.”

“Well,” I said. “I bet the choir is very good.”

“They are, actually.” He nodded toward a different building across the grounds. “Want to skip the rest of the show and I’ll give you a tour?”

“Sure.” I stuffed my hands inside my pockets, enjoying the nearly forty–degree weather—a nice shift from the freezing temperatures in February. Jordan walked me around, pointing out buildings and telling me funny stories. I think I could have walked that campus all night, but eventually he stopped in front of a building that had windows lit up all over the place.

“Dorm,” he said.

“Ah…where the meningitis lurks.”

He glanced around, looking nervous all of a sudden. “Do you want to go in? I have the key to my old room.”

“Doesn’t someone live there?” I bit my lip, staring over his shoulder, not wanting to look him in the eye.

“They’re both home for the weekend. They don’t care if we hang out there.”

“Okay,” I said, even though I wasn’t quite ready to decide yet. It seemed silly to stand outside and contemplate something that probably wasn’t a big deal to Jordan at all.

He removed a card from his wallet and stuck it inside the slot on the door. We walked through a hall with boys milling around everywhere. Several waved and said hi to Jordan, but no one looked too surprised to see him or said anything about me coming in with him.

Before I could even absorb this hallway, Jordan was leading me into a small dorm room and closing the door. A twin bed sat on each side of the room, blue comforters neatly spread over them. I recognized the uniforms hanging in the closet since they were identical to the ones I’d seen Jordan wear every day to school. At the end of each bed sat a desk.

I shuffled around the room, picking up random objects and looking them over—trophies and scrap paper, anything to keep me busy and keep me from biting my nails. My hands had even started to shake.

“We can go if you want.”

I turned around to face Jordan. He looked like the most vulnerable, worried boy ever, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes not meeting mine. Then he finally did look at me and let out a long sigh. “I’m totally giving you the wrong idea here, aren’t I?”

“Kind of.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”

My admission seemed to give him confidence, because he stepped closer and took one of my hands. “Just tell me what to do, Karen. I like us. I really like us. And I don’t want to screw it up.” He smiled at me. “In fact, if you could just give me a list of all the possible ways that I can screw this up, that would be extremely helpful.”

Feeling brave all of a sudden, I took a step in his direction, closing the gap between us. “I’d say it would be an epic failure on your part if you brought me all the way here and didn’t even kiss me at least once.”