Not If I See You First(49)

They weren’t standing all around us; they were hiding in cabinets and he didn’t know. He didn’t know…

He must have told me, through the bathroom door, or later when he tried to talk past the Sarah-Faith blockade. I don’t remember but he must have and I wouldn’t listen. He says now he doesn’t think it matters but it does because he’s right; I didn’t care if anyone saw us. It never occurred to me that people might look in the window—it’s easy for me to forget about things like windows—I never thought we were hiding. It’s just obnoxious to do in the middle of the cafeteria.

It’s so clear now I can’t even remember what it was like to not see it. When someone tricks you, like taping a sign on your back or sneaking up behind you to dump water on you, or tricking you into a room to kiss in front of a secret audience… all those things hurt because they mean the people doing it don’t give a shit about you. Not just indifferent, but cruel.

But when I ran away crying, he didn’t waste a single word on them. He ran out the door after me, trying to explain that he wasn’t one of them. Not an *. He loved me, he cared about me, and two and a half years later he’s ready to pummel those same guys just for playing keep-away with my phone, enough that Jason needed to get between them.

I’ve always been so worried that everything around me is just one big setup… In my head Scott became an * like the rest of them and I shut him out until you told him to leave me alone.

I was grateful for that, but you knew him, too… Did you know I was overreacting? That my freak-out would end and then you’d help me understand that the problem wasn’t just that Scott was only thirteen but that I was only thirteen too? And when I grew up I’d see people can’t be defined by just one thing? Were you waiting for the right time, but months turned to years and then…? If you were really here now, would we be having this conversation for real, now that I’m ready?

Thank God for Sarah. For asking me to imagine how Scott felt. I wish I had asked it myself… that I were a better person…

I want to think about it now, about what it meant to him to lose not just me but also his friends who turned out to be *s, plus Sarah and Faith when they chose my side… but it’s too much to hold all at once. And if that’s not bad enough, this isn’t the person I’ve become, it’s apparently the person I’ve always been.





I don’t know how long it takes, maybe half an hour, before Sarah quiets, sprawled across my lap, her breathing steady. She takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it go.

“Wow,” she says.

“You held that in way too long. It’s a wonder you didn’t explode.”

“I did explode,” she says and snorts a little. That’s closer to a laugh than it deserves and I’m glad for it.

“It’s ironic that you broke up with Scott over something he didn’t tell you,” she says in her miserable voice. “Then I didn’t tell you all this because I was afraid you’d break up with me, too.”

“We’ll never break up. But I don’t want us to get cancer either. Let’s just drive to Bingo when we’re seventy, okay?” I lean over and hug her, awkwardly since she’s lying crossways on my lap. She squeezes me back tightly.

“Jesus, Parker, I think I’m going to cry again.”

“Go ahead. You’re already not getting a gold star today.”

She snorts. “Ha, ha.”

“Sad, but true. And I intend to. Number ninety-two.”

Sarah shifts her head in my lap. “I told you all this stuff but you haven’t said anything. What are you thinking?”

I feel like I’m made of lead. A twisted lump of cold lead.

I hug her. “I’m thinking I have the best friend I could possibly have.”

“Me, right?”

I nod, my cheek pressed against her forehead.

“Good answer,” she says. “But that’s not what I mean.”

“I know.”

“So what else?”

Thinking it is one thing… saying it out loud is another…

I whisper it into her ear. Maybe saying it as quietly as possible will keep it under control.

“I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”





TWENTY


Ten minutes later we’re in Sarah’s car but I can tell she’s driving under the speed limit.

“I said this is a bad idea, right?” she says. “I didn’t just think it?”

“I’m going to start counting. Your ass is covered, and not just by those new yoga pants.”

“How’d you know I’m wearing them?”

“Lucky guess. You remember how to get there?”

“Yeah, but there’s still time not to. We can turn around and text him instead. He might have friends over or not even be home. Or he might be working; I think I heard he has a job.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know—don’t change the subject.”

“I want to talk to him face-to-face. I want to hear his voice and his answers without him getting time to think about them too much.”

“That’s what phones are for.”

“What are you so worried about?”