More Than Good Enough(36)

“It wasn’t like we planned it,” I said, stabbing the pen into my shoe. “It just happened.”

“Did you guys play kissing games and stuff? I bet you got caught. You know. Show me yours, I’ll show you mine … ”

I glanced at the sliding glass doors, where Alvaro was throwing ice down a girl’s shirt. After all this pointless drama, I thought Michelle would drop the subject.

I thought wrong.

Michelle took out a giant hair clip, the sharp-toothed kind that reminds me of bear traps. She clamped it on her head, leaned forward, and said, “Does she know that you’re pretending to be Indian now?”

“What do you mean, ‘pretending’?”

She unclipped her hair and tied it back into the same exact shape. “You didn’t grow up on the reservation. Are you even allowed to be there? Or are you just crashing at your dad’s because your mom got tired of you?”

When she said it, a rush of heat crawled up my neck. “It’s really unfair to judge.”

“I’m not judging. Honestly. Just trying to help you out.”

“You don’t really know me, Michelle,” I said. “You have no f*cking clue what’s going on with my life.”

“Oh, your friend told me all about it.”

“Alvaro told you?” I was starting to feel sick.

“He said you’ve been missing in action lately. It must be hard for you.”

“What’s hard?” I asked, falling right into it.

“Living with your dad. I hear he drinks a lot. But I guess that’s pretty typical. I mean, where you live.”

I slowly got up from the table. Maybe I should’ve stuck around and defended myself. Or my dad, at least. But it didn’t seem worth the effort. Michelle was too busy shredding my soul.

“Maybe that’s why this girl stopped talking to you,” she said. “Your family situation is just too … different.”

When I reached the sliding glass door, I yanked, but it wouldn’t budge. On the other side was Alvaro, laughing his stupid head off. I pounded on the glass until he finally let me inside.

“Yo. Mr. Pow-Wow.” Alvaro was up in my space, making a big deal about blocking the way out.

I pushed him. Hard. He stumbled backward, sloshing his beer. Half of it soaked my shirt.

“Whoa there. No reason to get violent,” he said.

Everybody was acting like this was ultra hilarious. I was a joke to them. My life was a joke, the punch line to a cartoon. I tugged down my hood. As I walked to the Yeti, I took my out my cell, just so I didn’t have to acknowledge anyone’s existence. I turned it on and scrolled through my old messages. No word from Pippa.

On the way back, I drove by my mom’s place. The For Sale sign was still on the lawn, along with the drooping balloons. I pulled up next to the sign, rolled down my window, and grabbed a balloon. Then I untied the string and let it drift away.

The lights were on at Pippa’s house. I thought about how many times I’d walked down that block. I was missing that girl so bad, I tried to send a message to her inside my head. Yeah, I knew this was crazy. But I always felt like she was listening.

Please let me know if you’re okay.

This silence is freaking me out.

I want to tell you so many things. We never got a chance to talk. I mean, really talk, the way we used to … back when we believed in the Wendigo and I taught you the secret language of knots, the way they told stories about rabbits and trees.

Back then, our parents controlled our lives.

They didn’t control us now.

I parked on the side of the road. Got out and took a walk to the canal behind her house. The lights were shining in the water. I studied their reflections—what Mr. Bones called “the rule of thirds.” You lined up everything in the camera until it looked perfect, the way stuff never does in the real world.

No way could I march up to her front porch and knock. Not after all the drama that went down with my dad. I could only imagine her mom’s reaction when the cop drove Pippa home. It made me sick, the more I thought about it.

I couldn’t knock on the door. So I did what I used to do in fifth grade. I searched in the grass for the smoothest rock I could find. Then I drew a smiley face on it with my Sharpie and dropped the rock close to shore. That way, Pippa would know I’d been there.

“You forgot to write a message.”

She was standing near the water. For once she wasn’t all dressed up, wearing stuff that reminded me of a costume. Just her Jack Skellington hoodie and jeans. Not skinny jeans, like 90 percent of the female population at school. And I couldn’t help thinking that she’d never looked more beautiful.

Maybe my dad was right. I was an idiot. Because only an idiot would think they had a chance with this amazing girl. I wanted to hold her forever, block out the world and make the bad things go away.

Pippa stuffed the rock in her back pocket. “Bet you didn’t know. I saved them all. My favorite one said, The stars are already ghosts. Those little messages were so cool, Trent. Almost like song lyrics.”

“I suck at writing lyrics.”

“Who told you that?”

“Myself.”

“You should stop listening to that guy.”

“Good idea.”

We walked to the front yard, past the rusty swingset. The Yeti was parked a couple feet away. Yeah, it wasn’t exactly in stealth mode.