Twelve Steps to Normal(74)
Saylor’s typing everything I’m saying, and it hits me that he’s helping me even though I pretended not to know him when I saw him at 7-Eleven with Lin. I never apologized for that, but I never felt like I had to. It’s my business what I choose to tell my friends, isn’t it? I shouldn’t feel bad about that.
Nonnie comes back with a bowl of frozen grapes, and when Saylor reaches for one I allow myself to look at him. Why is he being so nice to me? Peach too, even though she hasn’t been around much the last few days. She definitely deserved an apology that never came, and yet they haven’t held any of this against me.
By the time I’m done making a compelling argument, Saylor just stares at me.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he says, but he doesn’t look at me as he hands my laptop back to me. “You have a very interesting essay, that’s all.”
The front door unlocks, and a second later I hear my dad call hello. Once a week he’s agreed to take later janitorial shifts so he can meet with his therapist in the morning.
Wallis is the first one to the front door, greeting him enthusiastically.
“We’re in here!” Nonnie hollers.
When my dad sees the three of us sitting in the living room, he smiles. “Has Kira convinced you all to start watching Crime Boss?”
“I missed it,” I admit. “My quick nap turned into a four-hour coma. Saylor was just helping me finish an essay.”
My dad doesn’t hide the impressed look on his face. “That was nice of him.”
“Thank you,” I blurt, turning to Saylor. Because he’s right—it was nice.
“It’s no problem, but I’m going to head to bed,” Saylor says, shooting me another strange look. “I’ll see y’all in the morning.”
It’s not until I read it over the next day that I realize why Saylor was looking at me strangely. My essay is interesting, but only because I was never talking about John Proctor living out a lie. I was talking about myself.
TWENTY NINE
WHITNEY AND I ARE THE last ones in the locker room after rehearsal on Tuesday. I know she’s killing time waiting for Jay to be done with basketball practice. It’s what I used to do, which is why I’m taking advantage of this rare one-on-one time I have with her.
“Whit?”
She glances at me in the mirror, carefully applying her lip stain.
I sigh. “Will things ever not be weird with us?”
She considers my words for a moment. Ever since I didn’t show up for the homecoming dance, she’s been treating me like she’s better than me. At practice, she’ll only talk to the seniors, leaving Raegan and me to break on our own. And the other day at lunch, when I said I was thinking of dying the ends of my hair purple, she sneered and said, “It’ll clash with our uniforms.”
When she wasn’t looking, Lin glanced at me and rolled her eyes.
But that’s the thing. I don’t want Whitney to be someone I roll my eyes at behind her back. She was someone I told everything to, including my crush on Alex freshman year. Our one-sided friendship isn’t just frustrating, it’s infuriating.
When Whitney speaks, her voice is soft. “I don’t know.”
This is not the answer I wanted to hear, but if I’m being honest with myself, it was the one I expected.
I don’t try and hide my annoyance. “Okay, well when you do know… you know where you can find me.”
I walk out of the locker room before she can say anything else. It doesn’t feel good, but I’ve already apologized. Her insecurities are out of my hands.
I’m pushing open the double doors to the junior/senior lot when I spot someone standing by my car. My heartbeat quickens. He has a different beanie on today—this one’s dark blue—but I’d recognize him from across a football field.
“Hey,” Alex says, his smile warming me to my core. Before I can reply, he gently takes my hand and drops something inside.
I immediately open it. There are three strawberry banana Starbursts, the best kind.
The corners of my lips turn up into a smile as I start to unwrap one. “You saved them for me.”
“You sound surprised.” He smiles. “But actually, I was just about to text you. Want to stop by the restaurant for dinner?”
I nearly choke on the candy. Alex looks startled. I hold up a hand to tell him I’m fine, but I’m not sure if I am. Because I know he’s talking about Rosita’s, his parents’ restaurant. So does that mean Alex is asking me on a date? Or is this, like, a casual oh-we’re-just-getting-burritos thing?
“Sure,” I say, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice.
I used to go to Rosita’s with Alex in middle school to do homework. The last time I remember going with him was freshman year when we were working on an English essay, but something tells me that we’re not going to work on algebra.
Alex smiles at me, and a slow tingling spreads from my belly to the tips of my fingers. It’s been a week since our kiss, and I haven’t been able to forget it. I want to tell him I feel the same way, that I want our friendship to be something more, but I can’t seem to find the opening words.
“Cool.” He unlocks his truck, which is only a few spaces over from mine. “I’ll drive?”