The Accidentals(47)
“That would be correct,” Jake grumbles. “If the center could only—” He stands. “Breakaway, baby!” One of the Claiborne players is sprinting toward the opposing side. “SHOOT!”
The player shoots. And misses. And when the game ends, the score is 0-1.
The following weekend, Aurora packs an overnight bag. She’s headed to Boston for the evening, to see her father who’s in the country on business. She has a few minutes until it’s time to leave for the bus, and she spends them texting with someone.
“Who are you talking to?” I ask peevishly. I’m annoyed at having to spend a Friday night alone.
“It’s my old boyfriend in Spain.”
“Isn’t it the middle of the night in Spain?”
“Si. He is in a club, and his friends have all hooked up and ditched him.”
“You never told me about a boyfriend. Do you miss him?”
Aurora tucks her phone into her pocket. “No, not really. He’s a great guy. Really great. But we are totally wrong for each other. One of the reasons that I chose Claiborne was to make the breakup happen.”
“Aurora, seriously? I wouldn’t have thought you’d ever done a cowardly thing.”
My roommate inspects her fingernails. “I’ve done a few.”
I’m floored. “Well, I’m glad you did. If you liked him more, I would have missed out.”
She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “See, I don’t understand why you can say nice things to me, but you won’t tell Jake how you feel about him.”
“Maybe I don’t have anything to tell.” That’s a total lie, which is why Aurora rolls her eyes when I say it.
But Jake is too special to risk. If I make it awkward, he might disappear.
Aurora gets to her feet. “You two deserve each other.” She picks up her bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Have fun!”
Our room is too quiet once she leaves to meet her father. So I pull out my phone and call my own. I haven’t seen Frederick all week.
“How you doing, kid?” he answers.
“Good. I just called to see what you were up to tonight.”
“Tonight?” There’s a pause. “Well, I assumed you’d be busy with your friends. So I planned to stay in. I think I’m fighting off a cold.”
“Okay…”
“Can we get lunch tomorrow or Sunday?”
“Sure.”
After moping around for a couple hours, I remember there’s something I need from the bookstore. So I put on my coat and open the door.
Lucky for me, Jake is just coming down the stairs.
“I’ll come with you,” he says, when I explain my errand. “I just need to drop this in a mailbox.” He holds up an envelope. “For the parents. My mom writes me these letters, and I never seem to reply.”
“Can we speed walk?” I ask. “I think the bookstore closes at eight.”
We walk together through the cool night. Jake chatters beside me. He’s all fired up about the astronomy club, which gives me an excuse to admire him under the pretense of listening. “We’re looking for unidentified planets,” he says. “Amateurs find planets all the time. It doesn’t matter that the telescope isn’t powerful enough to see them.”
“Really? Then how do you know they’re there?”
“Well, gravity. Stars travel in smooth orbits, unless they have a planet around them. They wobble. The size of the wobble tells you something about the planet. So you can prove they’re there, even if you can’t actually see them.”
“Cool.” I love how animated his face becomes when he’s talking about telescopes.
“Why are you going to the bookstore at eight on a Friday night, anyway?” he asks.
Ouch. I know my social life isn’t exactly setting the world on fire. I don’t need a reminder. “Why are you walking me to the bookstore on a Friday night?” I counter.
Jake shrugs. “It beats playing another level of Black Ops.”
“Well, there’s an endorsement,” I say under my breath.
“What?” he asks, his eyes wide.
I shake my head. “Nothing. I left my copy of Anna Karenina under Frederick’s couch in California. And the lecture is Monday. If they don’t have one, I’m screwed.”
“I thought you read it already.”
“Didn’t memorize it, though. But you’re right, I should probably find something better to do with my Friday night.” As hints go, it’s awfully weak. But I can’t tell Jake how hyper I feel just walking with him. Or that I’ve memorized the shape of his smile.
“I suppose you could download a digital copy,” Jake suggests. “If they’re sold out.”
“True.” Sigh.
On Main Street, we pass a bar called Mary’s. Something makes me stop and take a closer look at a couple who’s seating themselves at a high table near the front. Maybe it’s an oblique glimpse of his leather jacket, or the set of his shoulders as he arranges himself on the stool.
It’s my father. The same one who just told me he was spending a quiet night alone.
I stare. Opposite him sits a woman with shiny brown hair. They’re already deep in conversation. As I watch, he puts his hand on the woman’s arm, and then she laughs at something he’s said.