In Sight of Stars(33)

“Sure.” She folds her arms to her chest and shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m not sure why you’re so angry at me, Klee. I was hoping this wasn’t going to be a full-blown thing, that you were going to be okay, that you’d be out of this place by now. That you might…” She trails off, swallowing hard. Finally, she says, “But I understand it’s best that we wait until you’re ready.”

“Right. Great. That’s what we’ll do.”

“Okay. Let me know what I can do … If I can help.” She pulls the door open, then turns to me again. “I want to help, son. I don’t want to make things worse. You’re all I have.”

“… I shouldn’t print them, I know, but I can’t bring myself to delete them. Sometimes they’re all I have…”

I don’t look at her, don’t respond, and she leaves.

“You should have thought of that fucking sooner!” I finally call out, but not until she’s gone, my words rendered impotent against the wall of the mostly closed door.

*

I drive the two miles to Sarah’s house from mine, turning down Old Basin Road. I don’t remember what day it is. I can’t keep track anymore. Maybe mid-November. It’s a weekday, Superintendent’s Day, this I remember. And that it’s the first time things with her go really bad.

Come over, she texts. Mom at work. Whole house to ourselves. ;)

The past few weekends, we haven’t had much time together. There always seems to be a football game, and everyone goes, no question. Northhollow is undefeated, 7–0, and you’d think each game was the Super Bowl. Everyone is there to support Abbott and Dunn. Everyone is there to cheer on Northhollow.

And, of course, there’s some party after.

I don’t go to the games, can’t bring myself to. And, the parties? Yeah. I definitely can’t bring myself to go to those.

But in school, at least, I’ve been trying. Trying to be cool and friendly to Abbott and Dunn.

“Maybe next one,” I tell Sarah, making up one lame excuse after another.

I don’t fit in. I’m not one of them. So why would I stand around drinking and bullshitting? We have nothing in common. They know it. And I know it. The two of them are like some fucking Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

Okay, maybe that’s not fair. But I’m sure they don’t give a shit about me either. What do I have to offer them? They already think they’re God’s gift to Northhollow, simply because they know how to hike a ball. And maybe they are. But it’s not like two players from Northhollow are ever going to be making the NFL. They’ll never get near the pros, let alone a Division 1 college, any more than I’m going to be the next Van Gogh.

But I care what Sarah thinks, and I know she already has her friends. I’m the new guy here. So I’m not about to stop her from hanging out with them. I’m guessing I’m not going to change her mind about them, either.

Maybe I’m just jealous. Maybe that’s why I don’t like the way they hang around her. All possessive, like they own her. Abbott, especially.

“We’re just friends, Klee,” she reassures me. “I told you, we’ve been friends since kindergarten. He gets me. I’m like a sister. He doesn’t ask anything of me. He doesn’t want anything from me, either. He just lets me be who I am.”

And I don’t? Besides, she’s being totally na?ve. It’s obvious that dude would put the moves on her in a hot second if given the opportunity.

“Besides, Klee,” Sarah said to me the other day, “you’re the one who thinks you’re too good for everyone. Because you lived in the city. Because you’re an artist. Because you’re going to some Ivy League school.” All of her sentences are spit out like she has a foul taste in her mouth.

“That’s not true, Sarah,” I say. “It’s not fair. And it’s not Ivy League.”

“Whatever. Museum school. Same difference. You know what I mean.” She’d pulled me in then and kissed me hard, like she wanted me to know she was just joking. But sometimes it’s hard to tell. Sometimes, no matter how hard I try, I feel like an outsider. Like I’m competing with them for her affection. “And those guys?” she’d finally added, “I know they can seem like assholes, but they’re not. I promise you. It’s all they’ve got. They’re not trying to impress anyone but themselves.”

But, here, now, rolling Dad’s car down her driveway, I want to forget all of that. I just want to spend one whole day alone with Sarah.

In daylight, the house shocks me. A gray clapboard cottage with peeling paint and an overgrown, weed-filled lawn that doesn’t look like it’s been mowed in over a year. I couldn’t really see it that first time in the dark. But now that I can, the windows need fixing, as do the front steps. A freestanding shed or garage has half its door bashed in, a large gaping hole in the side, as if someone didn’t see it was down and drove a car through it. We may live only two miles apart, but the houses here might as well be a million miles apart from the new construction water views where I live. It might as well be another country.

By the time I turn off the engine, Sarah is skipping outside.

Seeing her makes everything better. The grin on my face must be huge.

“What are you smiling at, Alden?” She pats the hood of the car.