Twelve Steps to Normal(58)
My throat is tight. I have to swallow a few times so my voice doesn’t break. “I know,” I say, feeling like a gigantic hypocrite all over again.
We’re quiet for a moment, absorbing each other’s silence.
Finally Alex turns to me. “Is this what you want?”
I’m confused. “What do you mean?”
“The old life you’re trying to re-create,” he clarifies. “Are you sure it’s what you really want?”
I feel my lips part, but I can’t think of the right words to push out. I am trying to re-create my old life. And for what? Because everything will automatically be better? It wasn’t better before my dad left for Sober Living, so why am I so willing to believe my twelve-steps list will make me happy?
Alex’s phone alarm beeps. He shuts it off, then looks across the street. “I better go get them.”
Oh, right. His little cousins. I slide off the bed of his truck. “I should get home,” I say. We’re both well aware I haven’t answered his question.
I hear Alex’s engine start as I walk to my car. I slip into the driver’s seat, but I don’t start it right away. Once I see his truck disappear in the elementary school parking lot, I start the engine. But I can’t seem to shake Alex’s words from my mind the entire drive home.
Is this what I really want?
TWENTY ONE
THE NEXT DAY IN HISTORY class, I don’t spare myself any glances at Jay. At least, not until he taps on my arm, asking to borrow a pen after Mr. Densick hits us with a pop quiz on the Revolutionary War.
I hand him an extra from my bag, noticing he has a dried smear of toothpaste under his bottom lip. Those were the lips I’d imagined kissing over and over while I was living in Portland. I fantasized about him grabbing my hand in a dark movie theater, and how my stomach would flip whenever his steady blue eyes fell on mine.
But then I remember those small memories that tugged at my brain over the past few weeks. He’d never checked up on me when I was in Portland, not even through text. Then there were trivial things, like how he hadn’t put any effort into my Christmas gift and homecoming mum when we were together. Plus, at Breck’s party… it was like talking to a stranger. Not to mention Friday night at Sonic, when he made a not-so-innocent move on me and then ditched me to get drunk at Winsor Lake.
A funny emptiness sits in the pit of my stomach. That’s when I know—it’s different now. I don’t feel like my nerves are on fire when I look at him. Those overwhelming feelings have diminished. There’s a small pang of sadness in my chest, but I know it’s not because he’s with Whitney.
It’s not until after class that I realize—maybe this is what it feels like to fall out of love.
I text my dad after school to let him know I’m staying a little later to watch Lin’s decathlon practice, where they’re having a mock competition to prepare for the Super Quiz, which is an event open to the public that doesn’t happen officially until early next year. But, as Lin says, preparing ahead of time in front of an audience doesn’t hurt.
Mr. Densick is the teacher in charge of the team, so everyone meets in his classroom after school. They’ve managed to rope in two other students to observe, and for the next forty-five minutes they do their best to answer a series of challenging questions Mr. Densick has prepared.
Lin second-guesses herself a lot, and I know the pressure of the time limit doesn’t help. Surprisingly, Breck answers a good amount of them correctly. I can tell he’s proud of himself, too, especially when Mr. Densick compliments him at the very end.
Once they wrap it up, I see her breathe a sigh of frustration. Breck must notice as well, because he holds up his hand in a high five, which Lin dejectedly meets.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he’s saying as I walk over. “You did good.”
“You did good,” Lin replies, and it’s not at all sarcastic. “I’m the one who sucks.”
“No negative attitudes allowed in this room,” Mr. Densick says, shuffling through papers on his desk.
I give her an encouraging smile. “Breck’s right. Also, you both were great.”
Lin gives me a quick hug. “Thanks for sticking around.” She turns to Breck. “Honestly? And don’t get an even bigger head, but I’m glad you’re on the team.”
Breck lets out an exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest dramatically. “Did everyone just hear that?”
“Okay, I literally said—”
“LIN PHAM IS GLAD I’M ON THE TEAM.”
I wave good-bye to both of them. “I should get home.”
She’s trying not to smile at Breck’s enthusiasm, but cracks. “Thanks again for com—”
“LIN THINKS I’M THE BEST.”
“Don’t twist my words!”
I can’t help but grin. It makes me happy to see them succeeding with Breck’s contribution to the team.
When I get home, I don’t go inside right away. I sit in the silence of my car and scroll through old photos on my phone, stopping when I find the section of selfies I’d made Jay take with me after a football game freshman year. We’re both in uniform making silly faces, except for the last one where we’re both cracking up over something.