She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not(22)

Maybe it’s for the best; it’s not really a plan. More like a gesture. And a lame one at that, considering how epically I messed up, but it’s all I could think of as a way to show Kenny I’m on her side, that I’m so freaking sorry, and I’m still here. Not because I have to be, not because of an assignment, but because of her.

Joss looked at me like I was a crazy person when I told her my plan involved a grocery bag full of raisins, grains, and off-brand cereal, but she’s twelve and kind of arrogant, so what does she know about groveling?

Probably about as much as I know, but I’m willing to do it anyway. Kenny’s just that important. I wipe my damp palms on the thighs of my shorts, and click the power button on my phone for the fifth time in three minutes.

Where the heck are you, Kenny?

I’m so engrossed in my thoughts that it takes me a minute to notice that someone is next to me. A glance and I double take, staring at Kenny while she unloads her backpack.

Ms. Cool, she barely acknowledges me except to slap some notecards in front of me. “Those are for our presentation.”

I glance at the neatly printed, bright pink notecards. I raise my brow. “Pink?”

She nods, eyes still cast down. “It was the closest thing to red.”

“And I would want red notecards because…”

Now she looks at me, eyes wide and maybe a little unsure. “Because it’s your favorite color—all of your favorite teams in every sport have some sort of red in them,” she stammers on when I don’t answer. “And you wear your red baseball cap more than most others. You like red.” The last words are thrown at me like a challenge—to dare and defy her. I want to, on principal, because I know for a fact that my favorite color is blue, but… Kenny noticed something about me, and, damn, if red isn’t quickly becoming my new favorite color.

“I do like red,” I say. She nods and turns back to her backpack, staring at it for a minute before pulling something else out.

“Christensen-Russo—is your group ready to present?”

I raise my brow at Kenny. “All set?”

She nods. “Go plug this in. It’s under the Life Science folder.”

I take the thumb drive she hands me, and stand to plug it into the Smartboard. It takes no time to navigate the scary organization that are Kenny’s electronic folders, and I set our project to full screen before turning around. Kenny is standing there, my old baseball jersey hanging near to her knees, and a bag of kiwis in one hand.

She catches me staring, and rolls her eyes. “Let’s go, Christensen. You’re speaking first.”

The class laughs, and so do I. When I step up to her, I can’t help but reach out and run my finger across the newly minted name on the back. “Christensen-Russo. Aren’t I supposed to be last?”

She shrugs, a pink tinge to her cheeks. “I like the equal opportunity of this. Now speak. Our clock’s ticking.”

Taking her hand, I link our fingers and turn to the class. “Everyone, we’re the Christensen-Russo’s, and this is our five-week life story. It includes sacrifice, love, a little sleep deprivation, and one big mistake. Mostly, it includes us together.”

“Read the script, Gage,” Kenny sighs. I smile at the audience.

“Kenny loves a script—me, I prefer a good story. Anyone else want to hear our story?” Hands shoot in the air, and, despite her groan, Kenny grips my hand tighter and stays next to me the whole time, letting me know we’re in this together.





Epilogue


If this was a movie… screw it, I like reality today.

Kennedy

Gage grabs my hand again when we’re done with class, tugging me through the door and into a secluded corner of the busy hallway.

People are staring, but, at some point in the last week, I’ve come to the conclusion that the majority of them aren’t really looking at me, just at me and Gage. I might not like it, but I understand it—especially since I’m wearing our jersey, and he’s carrying a bag of groceries. Halfway through our off-script presentation, he presented me with a twenty-five-dollar bag of groceries with all of the exact ingredients from my Google list. No one else seemed impressed, but it almost brought me to tears. And Ms. Moyer seemed to think it showed commitment. That counts for something.

“You’re wearing my jersey.”

He rests his hands on the wall on either side of me, getting so close all I can see is him. “You mean our jersey?” I shrug like it’s no big deal, mentally high-fiving Cam for such an ingenious idea. “It seemed like the day to do it.”

“Buying me kiwis?”

“Still a girly fruit… but they’re your girly fruit.”

He waits, raising his eyebrows when I don’t go on. “Do I really deserve them?” His face turns serious. “After what I did…” He shakes his head, and I see the regret all over him.

“You messed up really bad,” I say. He nods, stepping back a little, like he’s waiting for me to walk. A part of me wants to, because I know it’s safer alone. The other part, though… she isn’t ready to quit. “But, maybe, I understand that everyone makes mistakes… even huge ones like that. Once,” I say. “I understand this once.”

“Never again,” he says. “Jesus, Kenny, never again.”