There Will Come a Time (15 page)

My phone rings with an unknown caller, and I answer, expecting Lily's voice.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mark.”

Mom's voice comes across a little too peppy. She's calling from a number I don't recognize. Smart.

“Hey.”

“Is this a good time?”

“Yeah, sorry, it's been crazy busy. New school year and all.” I lie, but I know she doesn't want to hear the truth. The truth is I don't want to talk with her.

“How's school going?”

I force myself to answer. “Good.”

“And your music?”

“Good.” I stand in front of my window facing the street. Hanna's light is on.

“I'm glad. It would be nice to meet up soon. Maybe you can come down to the house for dinner?”

I don't answer right away. The drive to her house would be at least an hour. I don't want to go that far.

As if she can sense my debate, she says, “I could come up and take you out if that's easier. There's a really good sushi place downtown I've been wanting to try.”

Downtown. That'd be meeting her halfway. I lie on my bed, not wanting to deal with planning a dinner with Mom. I can't avoid her forever, though. “Yeah, sushi's good.”

“How's next Friday night?”

Friday is so soon. I also might have a rehearsal, but I don't check my calendar. “Um, I have something going on.”

There's a pause on her end. “Why don't you think about it and call or text me a date.”

“Okay.”

“Mark, I . . .” Her voice cracks, and I suppose it should make me feel something, but I don't allow it.

“I'll let you know,” I say, closing my eyes and squeezing my temple with my free hand.

“Thanks, Mark. I'll see you soon.”

“Bye.” I hang up the call. She sounds down, but I can't help her. I'm not strong enough to carry her through this. I can barely lift myself.

When Mom left, she didn't even say good-bye. She just took off and didn't see us for a long time—months. Grace used to cry about it. I had to be strong for her. I'd hold her and try to comfort her. What Grace didn't know was that I cried too. It
was a silent kind of cry, into my pillow, so no one would hear me. When it was clear Mom wasn't coming back, I made a vow that I wouldn't cry over Mom again. And I've kept it ever since.

In fact, I never cry. Not about Mom. Not about Grace. Not about anything. Chris said I'm emotionally detached. I experience emotions, I'm just selective about showing them. I don't see how tears will help me. They don't change anything. They can't bring someone back. If they could, Mom would have picked up the phone years ago.

I grab my electric bass and begin messing around. I play until I'm in that space where I have no concept of how long it's been, but it doesn't matter. I keep playing and playing, safe inside the music.

H
anna invites Sebastian and me to a football game. I'm a little wary of it. The last time I was at her school was for a track meet with Grace. We had watched River win pretty much all of his races, which I admit was fun. I'm worried now I'll just be reminded of Grace. But Sebastian really wants to go, probably because this is a novelty for us. We attend an arts high school, so we don't have a football team or any other sports team. We don't have a mascot. We don't have pep rallies. We have art. And artists don't usually charge each other in the middle of a field, trying to rip each other's arms off.

I like football, but I don't get as into it as the guys who memorize stats and follow teams. I watch it when it's on, but I'm not a fanatic. What I really love is ice hockey. When it's hockey season,
you can usually find my whole family in front of the TV, especially if it's the Kings. Dad tries to get tickets to at least one home game.

When Sebastian finally parks, what seems like miles from the stadium, Hanna asks us, “You guys ready for this?”

“What's this sport called again?” Sebastian says in a sportscaster voice. “Where young men risk their lives in the arena? Where they engage in an epic battle of courage and warfare?”

“You're kind of snarky,” she says.

“Snarky? That's a new one.” He takes it as a compliment.

Hanna already has our tickets, so we bypass the line at the booth and enter the stadium. At the top of the bleachers, I survey the field. The floodlights illuminate the turf, like it's a huge stage. The air is crisp and charged with anticipation. Old-school AC/DC is blaring. People of all ages are in attendance, not just students. A blond girl calls and waves to Hanna from lower in the stands.

We follow Hanna down the stairs. As we do, a man's voice booms over the speakers, inviting us to welcome the opposing team to the field. Yells come from the opposite side of the stadium, where their players burst through a large paper sign that their cheerleaders hold. They run single file and form a circle, beginning their warm-up by doing jumping jacks.

“Hey, Stacy!” Hanna says to the girl.

“Hey! We saved you seats. Scoot,” she says to a couple of people.

They shift over and we file in. Sebastian and I are split up.
I'm next to Hanna and on the other side of her is this black guy she introduces as Tyson. The bleachers are a gray, cold metal that I can feel through my jeans. I pull my beanie down, wrap my black scarf tighter around my neck, and stuff my hands in my jacket pockets. It's going to get cold.

“Everyone, this is Mark and Sebastian,” Hanna says.

We give the obligatory male head nods. Tyson, Stacy, Rachelle, Jamal, Freda, and Vince. Their names stick in my memory like tacks on a corkboard. I think I recognize the girls, but I can't place why. Maybe they knew Grace.

The announcer calls out the home team and everyone jumps to their feet like a single organism. A male cheerleader comes out doing a series of flips, which makes the crowd cheer even louder. The team runs onto the field after him and circles up like their opponents, but their warm-up is a little more exciting. They run in place, then drop to the ground and do push-ups, then jump back up.

When we sit back down, Hanna is beaming at me. “Fun, right?”

I nod. “Think the Eagles will win?”

“I don't know. I hope so.”

“They'd better,” Tyson says. I peg him immediately as one of those guys who overly cares about stats and draft picks.

The players are done warming up, so they take their positions on the sidelines. The cheerleaders perform a cheer for us,
which most of the crowd seems willing to follow. Cheerleaders. This is something our school needs. Girls in short skirts and tight shirts, jumping up and down and kicking their legs in the air. I could get used to that. They could encourage us right before recitals or productions. Yeah, they could cheer in between performances. Instead of “Be aggressive,” they could chant, “More vibrato,” or “Stay on pitch.” It would be pretty good motivation, I tell you, especially if they looked like the girl down there with the short black hair. She's all legs.

The teams take the field. We're not superclose, but I can see their breaths coming out in short spurts, as if they're horses being held at the line before battle. The whistle sounds and the Eagles have the ball. The first play is a running one that gets them a couple of yards. I'm not invested in either team, but I hope it's going to be a good game.

Hanna and her friends chat around me, laughing, sharing jokes and an intimacy that comes from attending the same school. Sebastian has no problem engaging. He fits right in, talking to Freda and Jamal about the galaxies. I imagine that I've been plucked from one of his parallel worlds. In my world, Grace would be sitting here at the game with all of her friends, laughing, and talking about stupid things. As if I'm part of some cruel joke, I've replaced her. It feels wrong. Hanna keeps trying to get me to engage in small talk. She can't see that I'm struggling, or if
she does, her way of helping isn't working. I want to be left alone.

“Tyson just moved this year,” Hanna offers.

“Oh yeah? From where?” I ask, trying to be polite.

“Boston.”

He sits hunched forward. His eyes never leave the field, as if he's completely mesmerized with the game. He's a big guy, probably an athlete too.

“You play?” I ask.

“I used to, but I had to pick between football and basketball. I chose basketball.”

“What position?”

“Center.”

“Tyson's starting this winter,” Hanna says.

“Too bad you don't like basketball,” I say.

“You don't like basketball?” Tyson seems disappointed.

“Well, it's not that I don't
like
it,” she says, shooting me a look. “I haven't really watched it much.”

“Really? I've heard you say watching basketball is as boring as waiting for paint to dry.” I'm picking a fight, and I don't even know why.

“Mark, you're funny.” She laughs nervously.

“Hopefully you'll come to my games,” Tyson says, smiling at her before going back to watching the field. I don't like what he's implying, but it's stupid because why the hell should I care
about the way he looks at her? I let my eyes linger on the cheerleader down in front.

“You should come too,” he says to me.

“Maybe,” I say.

Leaning into me from behind, her knees pressing into my back, Stacy says, “Mark, how are you doing?” She says the words as if we are close friends.

“Great, you?”

She bends near my ear. “Grace was a friend of mine.” She squeezes my shoulder. “We had English last year. She was such a good writer. I didn't get to tell you at the funeral, but I wanted you to know she is very missed.”

That's why she looks familiar. There was a whole contingent of Grace's school friends at the funeral. Some guys dressed in barely worn black suits and girls walking awkwardly in heels as if they were playing dress-up. I avoided them. I take a deep breath and hold it, counting before I release it slowly.

“You okay?” Hanna asks me and puts her hand on my thigh. Maybe in any other situation I would love for Hanna to be touching me, but right now it chafes.

“Perfect.” I remove her hand.

One of the Eagles players receives a red card. “Boo!” the fans cry out.

“How was bungee jumping?” Tyson asks Hanna.

“Crazy! I was so scared, but once I got over the fear of the actual jump it was fun. The hike in was the hardest.”

“What's next on the list?” Stacy asks.

“Spoken word, I think. Right, Mark?”

Suddenly I'm in a nightmare. Discussing Grace and her Top Five with total strangers? I can't believe Hanna told them.

“Who's going to do it?” Tyson asks.

“Me,” Hanna says.

“I want to come,” Tyson says.

“Sure, I'll let you know the plans.”

“I think it's awesome what you guys are doing,” Stacy says. “Grace would have loved it.”

“I'm sorry about Grace,” Tyson says to me. “I didn't know her, but from what I've heard, she was an amazing person. I can't imagine what it'd be like to lose a sister.”

“No, you
can't
imagine.” I churn out the words like I've got dirt in my mouth. Inside I'm seething. I try to turn the switch off, set it to neutral, but it's too late. I don't give him the chance to say anything else. “I'd rather not talk about it.”

He turns his attention back to the game. Now there's something more than excitement in the air between us.

Hanna does that nervous chatter thing, but I'm not listening anymore. I'm sitting there, but I'm not here. I'm not really anywhere. I stare at the field.

Hours or minutes later, Sebastian taps me on the shoulder. “It's halftime. Want to get something to eat?”

Hanna has her back to me and is listening to something Tyson's saying.

“You okay?” Sebastian asks.

“I'm fine. Actually, I've got to go. You ready?” I don't wait for Sebastian to answer. I get up and cross over Hanna and Tyson. “Hanna, you can get a ride with Tyson or someone, right?”

“You're leaving?” she asks, surprised.

“Yeah, I've got to do something.”

I don't bother waiting for her reply. I climb the steps, anxious to get away from all the people and the noise.

Outside of the stadium, I hear Hanna calling my name.

“Mark!”

I don't turn around; instead I keep walking toward the car.

“Mark! Where are you going?”

I stop, confused for a moment about where I am. The cars blur and my head feels fuzzy. “I'm sorry, but I forgot I have to practice. It's a good game. Really. Thank you for the invitation.”

“What's wrong?” She says the words like
I'm
the one who's ruining
her
night.

“Nothing. I've just got something to do.”

I head down a row, but I can't find the car.
No, it must be the next row.
I turn around.

“Can you wait?” she asks. “You're not making sense.” Her voice is shaky, and I can't tell if she's angry or going to cry. Sebastian is next to her.

“Why'd you tell them about Grace's Top Five?” I say louder than I intend, practically yelling at her.

“I didn't think it was a secret,” she responds.

“You act like we're running around earning Brownie patches for doing good deeds.” I pace in front of them.

“That's not true. We never said we couldn't tell other people.”

“It's private. You shouldn't just go blabbing about it to anyone. You should have asked me first.”

“I'm sorry.” She holds out her hands like a peace offering. “I didn't know it would upset you. They're my friends. They were
Grace's
friends.”

I grunt. “They barely even knew her.”