Twelve Steps to Normal(14)
I’m losing him. Whatever connection we had minutes ago is gone. I have to say something to fix it.
“Definitely missed all those high kicks.”
Jay’s eyes move to my legs, then he flushes. OH GOD. I can only imagine the mental image I’ve just provided him. I need a subject change.
“And those—uh—BIG comfy Wavette sweatshirts,” I blurt.
Jay gives me a confused stare.
“AND SWEATPANTS.”
That should do it.
“Uh, you miss… the sweatpants?”
I give a very enthusiastic nod.
“I remember you were wearing those when I came over that one Christmas,” he says. “When it snowed, remember?”
I nod, surprised he actually remembers. We had a very rare white Christmas, and Jay came over to give me a present. I was a little disappointed at the thoughtlessness of the iTunes gift card, but I tried not to let it show. We ended up sitting on the porch swing drinking hot cocoa and watching the short-lived snowfall that had graced the town. It all felt very magical.
“It seems like forever ago,” I say without really thinking.
“Yeah,” Jay agrees.
We make eye contact. I want to tell him I miss him, but I think of Whitney. Lin is right. I can’t expect things to be the way that they were. Especially since I neglected my friends for so long. And Jay. Obviously he moved on. I mean, he’s one of the most attractive guys in Cedarville. It doesn’t hurt he’s grown a few inches, too.
I want to tell him that I hope we can be friends. Before I can get the words out, the secretary calls, “Kira Seneca?”
I turn to Jay and give a light shrug of my shoulders. “That’s me.”
“The one and only.” He smiles. Ugh. Why can’t his smile be less attractive? That would help. “See you at lunch?”
My mood instantly soars. Lunch! That’s one shred of normalcy I can grasp on to. It’s comforting that he still wants me to sit at our usual table. Maybe some things haven’t changed that much.
“Okay,” I say, then smile. “See you.”
SIX
IT TAKES THIRTY MINUTES TO fix my schedule. The process would have been much faster if they could access my Portland transcripts, but the system sucked those down the technological black hole. Everything had to be redone by shuffling through my files and inputting them into the computer. Nightmare.
All in all, my schedule isn’t the worst. I missed first period English III with Mrs. Lee, but that’s fine by me because I’ve heard she’s tough. I don’t have any of my friends in second period Spanish class, which is a bummer. I try not to fall asleep listening to Se?ora Martínez read us our syllabus word for word. She even makes us tape them on our binders so we “never miss turning in an assignment,” as if we’re six instead of sixteen.
The irony of all ironies happens when I walk into third period AP US History and see Jay. I remind myself the divine powers of destiny are not interfering with my life as he motions for me to sit by him. Despite the stares from my classmates, I do. I keep my body language casual because I am so totally cool with Jay and Whitney, even though I haven’t seen her yet.
I’m starving by the time lunch rolls around. Lin texts me as I’m walking to the cafeteria, letting me know she’s waiting for me in the pizza line. Relief eases through me. I’m thankful that our small lunchtime rituals haven’t completely disappeared. I tell her I left my money in my locker, but I’ll be there ASAP.
I make my way through crowds of students until I reach my locker. It’s a lower locker (ugh) so I have to squat to open it. I pull out a few bills that I keep in my dance bag. I don’t know why I brought it today. I haven’t tried out for Wavettes yet and I didn’t know if my Dance III elective would be approved (luckily it was), but it was sitting by my backpack like it belonged there, so normal and familiar. I would have felt naked leaving the house without it.
When I enter the lunchroom, I notice not much has changed. The walls are already covered in this year’s hand-painted cheerleading posters. Drama flyers are taped to the double doors promoting the fall play. The circular tables designed to fit eight (but can fit ten—we’ve done it) stand before me in their blue plastic glory. Even the weird, mixed-food cafeteria smell is unenticingly the same.
Our table is in the left-hand corner near one of the many windows. I’m relieved to see Jay, Raegan, Whitney, Lin, Colton, and Breck already sitting there. From afar I notice Breck’s braids are tied back with a recognizable red-and-black Cedarville cheerleader’s ribbon, and I wonder if he’s begun dating someone on the squad. It’s a minor detail, but it’s a subtle reminder of how much I’ve missed.
As I walk closer, I realize Whitney occupies the seat next to Jay—my unofficial seat. It makes sense. They’re dating now, so she should have the seat next to him. I can’t help the tingle of irritation that courses through me. Am I that easily replaced?
No. I’m being too sensitive.
“Kira!” Raegan leaps out of her seat, bumping the table with her hip as she reaches to hug me. She’s wearing a black skirt and a floral top with a pale green cardigan over it—one of many she owns. Cardigans have always been her thing. “I’m so beyond happy you’re back!”
I squeeze her tightly. Raegan is one of my oldest friends. We used to play together with our Betty Spaghetty dolls when we were little, and she would always make hers run for president. But Betty Spaghetty pantsuits didn’t exist, so she had to dress her up in the standard neon short-shorts. In middle school, she wrote an outraged letter to the Ohio Art Company suggesting they should highly consider evolving Betty from a fashion queen to a strong, independent woman figure for little girls to look up to. That’s just the type of person Raegan is. So it doesn’t surprise me that she’s made Leadership Council President this year.