* * *

  At the end of the day, I walked through the quad to the parking lot. I watched students hanging out at the tables, laughing. I found myself, again, wishing I was one of them—a carefree teenager without a thought in the world. No, that wasn’t me. It would never be me. I was never really one of them and I know I could never be that in the future.

  A bunch of Patrick’s crew were meeting in the usual spot in the quad. I saw Patrick head over to them. Becca saw him instantly and threw her arms around him. She seemed happy to see him, bubbly actually. I thought about her reaction, another reason why I wouldn’t be a typical teenager. I always felt better when I saw Patrick, but I couldn’t understand her response. I’ve liked guys before, but never felt the need to jump all over them. I couldn’t understand the need for big, grandiose public displays of affection. It was like she was marking her territory, why didn’t she just pee on him?

  Patrick always looked like he tolerated it, but could do without it. I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t really paying much attention to her antics. He didn’t look very comfortable with her hanging all over him. He was letting her get her way. I wondered if most guys did that. It’s easier to let your girlfriend get her way than it is to argue with her. Then again, I guess if you argued with her, she wouldn’t be your girlfriend for long.

  I made my way to my car and turned up the volume. I didn’t want to hear anything but the music. I needed to focus on the now—like driving home in one piece and not getting distracted. Once I got home, I got dinner started. I figured if I said I’d eaten because I made dinner, then I could avoid actually eating dinner with my parents. I left a note on the fridge simply stating that I would be home late tomorrow because of the trial in San Francisco. I knew after they read it, they wouldn’t want me to have dinner with them.

  I ironed my clothes for the trial and packed my backpack for the day. I got ready for bed, then went to my room and locked the door. I put in my ear buds and cranked up my MP3 player. I didn’t want to think tonight. If I did, I might talk myself out of going tomorrow. I crawled into bed with my MP3 player and my cell phone. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Patrick since this morning in physics. During math, he saved me from total humiliation by giving me his solution. But, we hadn’t really had the opportunity to talk about the details of tomorrow. I wanted to avoid any real details, and he was with his friends and Becca at lunch and after school. I figured that I’d call him tonight to let him know the flight information.

  I felt my cell phone vibrate in my hands. “Hi, Liz.” It was Patrick.

  “I was going to call you, but you beat me to it. So, tomorrow…” I wanted to give him the chance to back out.

  “Yeah. I’m good. I told you I was going. That I wanted to be there for you. You’re not going to talk me out of it.” He knew me pretty well. But he really didn’t. He’d find out how much tomorrow.

  “I know. I know.” I shared with him the flight information.

  “So, we should leave by 6:30am. I can pick you up.” He offered.

  “No. My parents would wonder why I left my car, they don’t know you’re coming with me. It would start a whole new thing with them. I’ll pick you up. If that’s okay…”

  “Yeah, no problem. I don’t have a problem with women drivers.” He laughed. “I can leave my car. My folks know I’m going.”

  I was shocked. If the roles were reversed, I could never tell my parents. “What did you tell them?” I was worried that something might get back to my folks.

  “The truth. I said that a really good friend had to go to San Francisco to testify in court, but her parents couldn’t go and that I told her that I’d go to support her.” He was so matter-of-fact about it.

  Wow. “What did they say?” I was curious about their reaction.

  “They were proud of me, being a good friend. They wanted to know if I had my ticket or if they should get it for me. I told them that they gave you an extra ticket.” He chuckled, “Then my mom said, ‘Call your sister, I’m sure she can pick you guys up from the airport. Oh! And you can give some things that I was going to send to Lindsey for me. Save me a trip to the post office.’ Then she headed to the kitchen to make Lindsey’s favorite cookies.” He laughed.

  I couldn’t help but laugh with him. It felt good. Today had been so hard. “That’s funny.”

  “Yeah, that’s my mom. She’s great.” He paused. “It’s good to hear you laugh. I was really worried about you in math.”

  “I was kinda preoccupied. I talked to the DA at lunch and let her know you were coming with me. And she reviewed some stuff with me. I kept going over and over it in my head. Anyway, thanks for your help. I drew a total blank and couldn’t have answered the problem.”

  “Anytime. I noticed that you weren’t exactly paying attention. Then Ms. Adams called you. You had this blank look, I’ve never seen you with that look in class. Anyway, you seemed to have snapped out of it a bit afterwards.”

  “More like scared into paying attention. The one place I felt like I had control and I was losing it. It took a lot to focus. But I did it. I had to.” I started getting that sick feeling in my stomach and my mind started racing. “Well, you should call your sister to let her know what time we’ll be coming in. I should try to get some sleep. I’ll come by around 6:30.”

  “Okay. Get some rest. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

  “Night.” Patrick hung up. I closed my phone, put my ear buds back in and blasted my music. I didn’t want to think about anything. I finally fell asleep with the image of Patrick’s mom frantically making cookies.

  15. DE
Shirley Miranda's Novels