She Loves You, She Loves You Not... (14 page)

“For thinking I was the one who broke it off.”

Wow, I know how much it hurts to get dumped. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

Arlo shrugs. “I was replaced.”

My eyes must widen. Major heartache.

He rolls back a little and folds his arms across his chest. “You know, I don’t get you. You’re awfully judgmental, and toward your own mother, no less.”

“She’s not my mother. I mean, she is. But she wasn’t around for me when I was growing up. Did she ever mention that to you? Did you even know I existed before I showed up here?”

Arlo says, “She talked about you.”

“Really? What did she say?”

He opens his mouth and then clamps it shut. He’s lying. She never told him she had a daughter. “I’m sorry she hurt you too,” I say. “Her specialty is abandoning people.”

“Do you have any idea what her life’s been like?” Arlo drops his arms. “What she’s been through?”

He sounds like he admires her or something. “Childbirth and desertion. Big whoop.”

He snatches my plate out from under me and stacks it on his, along with our napkins and glasses, sets them in his lap, and rolls into the kitchen.

Now he’s pissed. Why? I get up and follow him. “She doesn’t need to degrade herself by being a stripper.” And if she actually does do massage and personal training, she must make enough money to live on. “She doesn’t need that ginormous house and—”

Arlo whirls on me. “Do you know about Jason?”

My blank look must answer the question.

Arlo sets the dishes on the counter. “Get out of here,” he snarls.

Fine. I’ll go. At the exit, I say, “Thanks for the sandwich. It was the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my whole entire life.”

That seems to soften him. He glances up over the counter and says, “Ask her about the house. Ask her about Jason and… the rest.” His voice catches. “Just ask her.”

Carly doesn’t leave me her ATM card, but she does leave two envelopes stuffed with cash. There’s a note on one:

The envelope for me is full of twenties and fifties. Eight hundred dollars exactly. I wonder if these are bills that guys stuck in her thong, paid her for lap dances, or worse. Ew. The other envelope has four hundred fifty dollars in it, according to her deposit slip.

A pang of guilt stabs me as I drop the envelopes into my purse. I vow to pay Carly back as soon as possible, even if she doesn’t need it.

On the way to Breckenridge, I pass a sprawling school.
SUMMIT HIGH SCHOOL
, the sign reads. I think,
That’s where I’ll be going next year.

It hits me hard. I won’t be graduating with my class. All my friends. Ex-friends. In sixth grade my best friend moved away. I remember crying for weeks and weeks. Over time, the memory of her faded, and life went on, but every once in a while a face or a voice reminds me of her. I wonder if anyone at home will remember me, or miss me for very long. There’s no one who’d cry over my leaving. No one who did.

I deposit Carly’s cash in Breckenridge and take a mini tour. Pretty cool town. You can walk to the ski lifts from the parking lots and lodges. One day I’d love to learn how to ski or snowboard.

As I’m nearing the intersection to turn back toward Majestic, I imagine the scene. Me handing the money to Finn. Her eyes lighting up. Her hugging me. She might even—

It’s happening again. I’m losing control. Soon I’ll be obsessing and won’t be able to stop.

Have I learned nothing? A car honks behind me, and I flinch—the light’s turned green. Instead of driving through Frisco, I make a U-turn in a hotel parking lot and head for Blue Spruce Road.

The drive up the mountain isn’t as scary as the first time. I roll down my window and breathe in the sweet mountain air. The river is soothing; the sound of rushing water has a calming effect. I reach the parking area at Caribou Lake and pull in.

Retracing the route Finn and I took, I scrabble up the rocky path to the top of the boulders. A soft breeze rustles the aspen leaves, and I sit, extending my legs and leaning back on my elbows.

I love the peace here. Even the screech of a blue jay seems
part of the pastoral symphony. I feel this amazing sense of destiny within the universe, like I’m meant to be here at this time and place in my life.

Arlo’s words swirl in my head. I wonder who Jason is. Arlo’s replacement? Carly’s never mentioned the name Jason—at least, not that I can recall. And what’s “the rest”?

An acrid odor pinches my nose, and I sit up. I sniff and the smell is faint, stolen away by a gust of wind. I relax again, close my eyes. The lapping of the water reminds me of Paulie wanting to go to the beach, and Tanith saying, “Let’s all go. I’ll pack a picnic.” Dad had to work or something, so Tanith said, “Why don’t you both invite friends.”

Paulie said, “Do I have to?”

If Paulie had any close friends, they never hung out with him. I don’t think he had a secret stash of friends, the way I did. Immediately, I thought of inviting Sarah and Ben and M’Chelle. No. Not M’Chelle. For Paulie’s sake, I didn’t ask anyone. It wouldn’t be fair to go off with my friends and leave him behind.

That wasn’t the real reason.

April

You were walking in the quad before school when M’Chelle caught up. “Are you okay?” she asked, linking her arm in yours. “You seem—I don’t know—distant.”

You tend to ignore your friends when you have a girlfriend, which is terrible, but M’Chelle was the one who’d been keeping her distance. She didn’t have to tell you outright that she didn’t like Sarah. You felt her
chilly demeanor whenever the three of you were together. “Anything wrong?” M’Chelle asked.

“With me or you?”

M’Chelle unlinked your arms.

That came out sounding dismissive. “I’m fine,” you told her. “Just stressed about stuff.” Spring break. Florida.

“Are things okay with you and Sarah?” M’Chelle asked.

“Yes,” you snapped at her. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

“Okay.” M’Chelle hesitated a moment, and you wanted to apologize. It wasn’t her fault. You wished you could confide in her. She gave your hand a squeeze and said, “You know if you ever need to talk…”

You nodded quickly. A lump rose in your throat, and you swallowed it down. M’Chelle kissed you lightly on the cheek and then took off, flying up the stairs two at a time and leaving you behind.

You did need to talk, but not to M’Chelle. You’d dated M’Chelle the summer between your frosh and soph years—kind of a summer fling. A short one. It never got beyond kissing. The chemistry wasn’t there, and you both knew it.

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask Sarah or Ben about Florida, because you were afraid it’d come out sounding like an accusation. Or paranoia. Or jealousy. Anyway, your suspicions were ridiculous. A coincidence. Florida is a big place, and a lot of people go there for spring break.

Not to mention Ben is gay.

You saw Sarah waiting for you at your locker, and your spirits lifted immediately. But when you went to kiss her good morning, she turned her face away. “We need to talk,” she said.

The first bell rang, and she headed off for class.

You caught her arm. “How about now?”

She cast you that look of irritation, impatience. “Alyssa, I can’t. I have a test this period.”

Her eyes, those blazing blue eyes, bore right through you. “Later,” she whispered.

You sat through American lit and history and psychology, churning up an ulcer. The last time she’d needed to “talk,” she told you not to call her anymore, that her mother was monitoring her cell phone history. You told Sarah then, “Just delete my calls,” and she said, “Please, Alyssa. This is hard enough.”

At passing period you saw Ben in the hall hanging with his friends, and you thought,
This is stupid, worrying about something that never happened; that never
could
happen.
You needed to get it out of your system. Coming up behind Ben, you waited for a break in the conversation. When there wasn’t one, you touched Ben’s arm, and he spun around. “Hey,” he said. “ ’Sup?”

“Can we talk?”

He told his friends he’d catch up with them.

“I heard you went to Florida over spring break.”

You detected a slight rise of color in his cheeks. He said, “You heard right.” His nose was peeling from sunburn.

“Did you go with Sarah?”

His eyebrows arched. “Was she there?” He snapped his fingers. “Damn. We coulda dissed on Alyss for a week.” He stuck out his hip and rested a hand on it. With his bent elbow, he jabbed you. “Places to haunt, people to taunt.” Ben strutted off.

He was so totally gay. At least when it was “convenient” for him.

Behind the retaining wall where you always met between first and second periods, Sarah waited. The moment you saw each other, the rest
of the world dissolved. She smiled broadly, and you shrieked, “You got your braces off!”

She smacked your shoulder and said, “You
finally
noticed.”

You grabbed her and kissed her, and she melted in your arms. After a minute, though, she broke it off. She said, “We still have to talk. We can’t be out in public anymore.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because I’m afraid it’ll get back to my parents.”

“You weren’t afraid before. What happened?”

“Someone at church told my mom they saw me kissing a girl.” Sarah shook her head. “No doubt I’m going to hell.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know. Why does that matter?”

It didn’t matter. You understood completely her fear of exposure. You lived it every day. You almost started crying right there because of how much her decision was going to cost you. School was the only place you could ever live your truth.

At the time you wished the truth about
you
would get back to your parents because then you wouldn’t have to tell them—ever.

Unfortunately, there are wishes that do come true.

A breeze sings through the trees, and a pinecone drops near my hand. I pick it up and crack off a brittle scale. Sarah was pulling away. I could feel it; I knew it. I just didn’t know how to stop it.

On my way through Majestic, I can’t help checking to see whether Finn’s mountain bike is at the Emporium. It’s not. I wonder if she’s listed in the phone book; if I could call and tell her I have the money, or even drive to her place—

Stop.

Shut it down right now. I don’t even know her last name. Good thing. Giving her this money is risky. It’s acting on impulse, and I need to consider the consequences.

It’s a loan, an act of kindness between friends. That’s all it has to be. That’s all it is.

Carly’s in her workout room, running on the treadmill. I guess she has to keep her body toned to shake her booty.

Our eyes meet and I smile. “Thanks,” I say. “I’ll pay you back.”

She slows her pace, and the treadmill’s speed decreases. “I thought we were going water-skiing today.”

Was that today? “I’m sorry. I forgot.” I never agreed to go, did I?

She takes a long draw from her bottle of water, still looking at me. “Paulie called,” she says. “Twice.”

Shit. “Okay.”

She adds, “It’s too late. He said they were leaving for their trip.”

Paulie. I send him a mental message.
I’m sorry, I’ll call you at Grandma’s.

“I talked to Tanith for a while.” Carly walks over to the bench outside the sauna and dabs her wet chest with a towel. She’s breathing hard, and a sheen of sweat glistens on her skin. “Come sit with me.”

“I really need to shower,” I tell her. I fan the front of my own stinky tee and turn to leave.

“Tanith told me some things I didn’t know,” she says at my back. “About the stalking?”

I spin around. “I never stalked her.” My sharp voice echoes in my ears.

Carly heads toward me fast, and I step aside to let her pass. “What’s her name?” Carly asks.

My heart hammers. I thought we were forgetting the past. “How did you know I was a lesbian?” I ask instead. “Did Tanith tell you that?” I follow Carly to the main level.

She replies, “I’ve always known.”

“How?” I didn’t figure it out until I was thirteen.

Carly pours herself a glass of red wine. “You never talked about boys, and the few times I asked if you had a boyfriend, you clammed up fast. Plus, look at you.” She takes a drink of wine.

What do I look like? I don’t flaunt it. I’m just me. I don’t make myself up to look like a dyke, if that’s what she means.

She adds, “I’m not as dumb as your father. And I’d
never
be anything but accepting and supportive of you, no matter what. I expect the same from you.”

I can’t hold her eyes. Carly pours another glass of wine and hands it to me. “What’s her name? Your girlfriend.”

I take the wine but don’t drink it. “Sarah. She’s not my girlfriend anymore. She… we… broke up.”

Carly makes a pouty face. “Tell me about the stalking,” she says.

“I didn’t stalk her,” I repeat.

Carly tilts her head to one side.

“I just wanted to talk to her. She wouldn’t return my calls.” After what happened at my house, the whole fiasco.

“I can tell you need to get this off your chest. Don’t bottle it up inside the way I do.” Carly motions me to a bar stool.

I’m not sure I want to talk to her.

She scoots the bar stool closer, but I hold my ground. “Fine.” She sounds defeated. She gets up and brushes by me to open the cabinet drawer. I almost ask,
Who’s Jason?
but before I can get the words out, Carly’s beside me, handing me a box. “I got you something,” she says.