Through to You

  “But why?”

  “Why is he from that part of my life?”

  “No, why does there have to be a before and after?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “There just does. And Jackson’s from before. So now I need to start making new memories.” He gives me that sexy little grin of his and then scoots his chair over so it’s right up against mine. He pulls my legs up and drapes them over his lap.

  I lean back and look at him. “You’re really frustrating, you know that?”

  “How so?”

  “You won’t tell me anything!”

  “I just told you what you wanted to know.” He slides one of my flip-flops off, and it clatters onto the deck. Then he starts rubbing my ankle. His touch sends sparks all up and down my body.

  “No, you didn’t. You talked around it.”

  He sighs and doesn’t say anything for a second. He looks back at the fire, and the colors of the flame swirl in his dark eyes. His hand is still rubbing my skin. “It’s complicated,” he says. “Baseball is . . . Baseball was my life. It defined me. So when I couldn’t play anymore, all of that stuff had to go away.”

  “Including Jackson.”

  “Including Jackson.”

  “Why?”

  “Because being around him was too hard, I guess.” He shakes his head, seemingly confused. “Wow, I’ve never said that out loud before.”

  “Not even to him?” I’m shocked. I can’t imagine just getting rid of Anna and not at least giving her some kind of explanation. I always thought Jackson was just being a dick, but if my best friend blew me off with no explanation, I’d probably be pretty pissed too.

  “Nope.”

  “Wow.” I shake my head. “No wonder you guys almost got into a fight tonight.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you just stopped talking to him. He’s obviously angry. And holding it in must be extremely frustrating for you. All those feelings are just sitting inside you, building up with nowhere to go.”

  “I don’t have anything building up inside me,” he says.

  He doesn’t sound defensive, though. Instead he sounds kind of sad. I sit up in my chair and move closer to him so that our knees are touching. He reaches out and takes my hand, his thumb moving in little circles against my palm.

  “Penn,” I say. “I’m . . .” I want to say that I’m really sorry, but I don’t think that’s going to go over so well. I don’t think he wants anyone to feel sorry for him. And the thing is, I don’t really feel sorry for him. I just feel sad that he feels he needs to keep everything inside.

  “You don’t have to say you’re sorry,” he says. “It’s a shitty situation, but it’s not your fault.”

  “What happened?” I ask softly. “You know, to your shoulder?”

  This time, he turns and looks at me when he talks. “I tore it,” he says. “It’s . . . it’s kind of shredded.”

  “And there’s nothing you can do? No surgery or anything? No other doctor you can try?”

  He opens his mouth to say something, but then changes his mind. He shakes his head. The pain in his eyes is so overwhelming that in that moment all I want to do is take it away. So I move toward him, my finger reaching out and tracing the hard line of his jaw. There’s a little bit of stubble on his cheeks, but other than that his skin is smooth and soft. His lips are so tempting that it’s only a second before I can’t take it anymore. I lean over and kiss him softly.

  He shifts himself over, so that we’re both on the same chair, and we fall back onto the chaise, our legs tangling as our kiss deepens. His hands move down my sides, and I feel dizzy and light-headed, almost like I’m about to lose control of my own body. He tastes like peppermint and orange juice, and it’s a heady combination, one that’s making me realize what people are talking about when they say they’re losing themselves in someone.

  I’m losing myself in Penn.

  We kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss, and this time I don’t try to resist it.

  Penn

  I didn’t tell her.

  About Dr. Marzetti.

  Harper asked me, point-blank, if there was any chance my shoulder could be fixed, if there was any chance I could get a surgery, or a new doctor, or something. The sad thing is, she’s the only one who’s ever asked me that.

  Even my dad, the day the doctor at Mass General looked at my X-rays and said there was no way I was going to ever play again, never asked if we should get a second opinion. Instead he disappeared for eight days. When he came back, we didn’t bring it up, unless it was him taking little jabs at me about how I had lost my chance at a scholarship, or to let me know that he thought it was ridiculous for me to be spending time at the batting cages.

  But I didn’t tell Harper about Dr. Marzetti. I was going to, I was about to, I was saying things out loud that I’d never said out loud to anyone, things I hadn’t even really admitted to myself, but I couldn’t tell her about Dr. Marzetti.

  First, it’s such a long shot that it’s not really worth talking about. I don’t even have an appointment with her, and it doesn’t look like I’m ever going to be able to get one. Second, if I did tell Harper, she would definitely start asking me about it. And I’m not sure I can take that. I don’t want to have to worry about her bothering me about what’s going on, or if I’ve heard anything, or what the chances are that I’m going to get an appointment. Most of the time I just want to forget about baseball. And if I give Harper an invitation to ask me about my shoulder, she can bring it up anytime she wants, forcing me to have to deal with it.

  And that’s something I definitely do not want.

  For a second I was afraid she was going to push it, but she didn’t.

  Instead she kissed me.

  And I kissed her back, and it was the best kiss I ever had in my life. It was weird—the kiss was great, but it’s what was behind it that made it amazing. There was emotion. We kissed for what seemed like forever. With any other girl I’d have pushed for more. I would have wanted more. But with Harper, just kissing was enough.

  I had to leave at midnight when her mom called out the window and told us it was probably time for me to go, since it was a school night. Luckily she didn’t come downstairs, since we were pretty disheveled at that point.

  When I left Harper’s house, it was hard to tear myself away. I wanted to stay with her, wanted to hold her close and never let her out of my sight. She walked me to the door, and I kissed her goodbye. Her lips were swollen and bee-stung from everything we’d done, and her hair was all tangled in this sexy way that was driving me crazy.

  When I got into my car and started driving home, I immediately missed her.

  With Harper everything was different.

  So different.

  Everything just felt completely right.

  Being at her house.

  Her mom calling downstairs and telling us it was midnight and that I had to go home. All of it was so normal, it just felt . . . I don’t know, natural.

  When I get back to my house, no one else is awake. I climb into bed, and for a while I can’t fall asleep. All I can think about is her—the way she tastes, the way she feels, the emotions she stirs up inside me. But when I finally do fall asleep, my sleep is sound and restful.

  When I wake up the next morning, the house is quiet. I’m not sure where everyone is, and I don’t care. All I can think about is getting to school and seeing Harper. I think about sending her a text and seeing if she needs a ride, but then I have this moment of uncertainty. What if Harper isn’t as into what happened last night as I am? What if she thinks I’m crazy for what I did at the Sailing Burrito, and so she decided that, make-out session or not, it’s best to stay away from me?

  The thought is kind of shocking. I’ve never had to worry about a girl not being into me. It just doesn’t happen. And if it did, I wouldn’t even ever know about it, because by the time they’d start to have doubts, I’d be on to the next girl.

  When I pull
into the student parking lot, all I can think about is finding Harper, and I wonder if maybe I should send her a text to find out where she is.

  But then I spot her, over on the lawn, sitting with a couple of her friends.

  She’s wearing this adorable little yellow summer dress. I’ve never seen her in a dress before. As she leans over, the bottom of the fabric rises up, giving me a view of her legs. Jesus Christ. What was I thinking, just kissing her last night? I walk over, not sure exactly how this is going to go.

  One of the friends she’s with is Anna. But the boy, I don’t think I know him. Nick or something?

  As I get closer, Harper looks up and smiles.

  And in that moment I know it’s going to be okay.

  “Hey,” she says, standing up and walking toward me. She takes my hand. “Come and meet my friends.”

  Anna and the boy look up from where they’re sitting in the grass. Their heads are bowed down, and it looks like maybe they’re looking at sheet music.

  “This is Nico,” Harper says.

  “Hey,” Nico says. He gives me the head nod that guys give each other.

  “Hey.”

  “And you know Anna,” Harper says. She points at Anna, who looks up at me and narrows her eyes suspiciously.

  I’m used to the friends of girls I’ve hooked up with not liking me. What I’m not used to is caring.

  “Hey, Anna,” I say, giving her a friendly smile. “Nice to see you again.”

  She purses her lips. “Hello, Penn,” she says. “You’re looking very relaxed for someone who’s the talk of the school.”

  “I’m the talk of the school?” I ask. “Why?” Is it possible that everyone already knows about me and Harper? Just from one night out at the Sailing Burrito?

  “Well, when you throw a glass at a wall in front of everyone, people think it’s kind of a big deal,” Anna says, all snotty like.

  “Oh,” I say. “That.”

  “Yeah,” Anna says. “That.”

  “Anna,” Harper says warningly. She turns to me. “It’s not a big deal, Penn. You know people. They just like to talk about stuff.”

  “Yeah, stuff that’s crazy,” Anna says. “Stuff that insane people do.”

  I swallow. “I got angry,” I say, shrugging. “It happens.” Now I’m starting to get a little annoyed. Why should I have to explain myself to this girl? She doesn’t even know me.

  “Not to me,” Anna says. “If I got angry, there’s no way I would throw a glass across the room.” She leans back on her hands, locking her elbows behind her. “People are saying that you were this close to throwing it at Jackson.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I wasn’t going to throw it at Jackson.”

  “That’s good,” Anna says. “Because if you were, that would indicate you have a serious anger problem.”

  “Relax, Anna,” Nico says. “You don’t understand, because you’re not a guy.”

  Anna looks shocked by this, like Nico has just declared that a woman can’t be president or something. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It just means that girls are different. You all talk behind each other’s backs and gossip about each other. Sometimes men just need to get it out. The old-fashioned way.”

  “By punching each other?” Anna says incredulously.

  Nico shrugs. “If that’s what it comes to.”

  Anna’s mouth drops. “I cannot believe you’re taking his side.”

  “I’m not taking anyone’s side,” Nico says. “I’m just stating facts.”

  Anna’s face is turning red, and I’m wondering why she’s getting so worked up. I mean, I get that she and Harper are like OMG BFF or whatever it is the girls are calling it these days, but come on. Can she really be that upset with me? She hasn’t even given me a chance.

  But then I catch her looking at Nico, and I get it. She has a thing for him. She has a thing for Nico, and so yeah, she’s annoyed with me because she thinks I’m not good enough for Harper, but now she’s getting doubly annoyed with me because she thinks that Nico is siding with me instead of her.

  Jesus, this is getting into, like, soap opera shit.

  “You never take my side,” Anna says. She starts to pack up the sheet music that’s sitting in front of her, shoving it into a folder angrily.

  “What are you talking about?” Nico asks. He sounds perplexed in the way that guys do after girls say something that makes no sense whatsoever. “I always take your side.”

  “Not today!” she fumes. “Where is my music for Wicked?” she demands. “I just had it!”

  “I saw Wicked in New York a couple of years ago,” I offer. “I took my mom for her birthday.” I don’t mention that it was a family trip, and that my dad left at intermission to go to the bathroom and then didn’t come back until after the show, completely shitfaced, and then he and Braden got into a fight, and so Braden and I ended up wandering around Times Square at night like a couple of vagrants because we had no money and couldn’t stand to be around my parents. That was before Braden discovered the wonderful allures of marijuana.

  “You went to Wicked?” Anna asks. “That figures.”

  I frown. “Why does that figure?” Wicked is very girly. It would make no sense for me to be at that show. I should have been at something a little more manly, like a comedy show, or maybe that Spiderman show everyone was so worked up about because the actors kept getting hurt. That I went to Wicked shows that I’m actually very in touch with my soft side.

  “Because Wicked is the show people go to when they want to make themselves feel all cultured. But in reality they have no idea that Wicked is overproduced fluff.”

  I shrug. “My mom picked it.” If Anna doesn’t like Wicked, why does she have the music for it?

  “Yeah, well, people like your mom have no taste.”

  “Anna!” Harper exclaims.

  But I don’t really care that Anna said that. She’s right. My mom doesn’t have that much taste.

  “No, it’s okay,” I say. “But why do you have music from Wicked if you hate it so much?”

  Anna sighs. “You wouldn’t get it.”

  “Anna’s trying to get into Juilliard,” Harper explains. “And she needs to do an audition piece.”

  “And one of the songs from Wicked has been assigned to me,” Anna says. “So I have to learn it.”

  “Oh,” I say. “That sounds fun.”

  “It’s not fun,” she says. “It’s extremely stressful and overwhelming.”

  I nod. It doesn’t make any sense, but I’m not even mad that she’s being a bitch to me. It’s like I’m excited for the challenge of winning her over. She doesn’t know me, so it’s not like she can really hate me that much. I’ll just have to show her the real me.

  But obviously connecting with her over this whole Juilliard thing is a bad idea. Not only is the world of music foreign to me, but I just can’t relate to the college admissions process. Once I got hurt, I completely forgot about college. I’ve hardly even thought about it. It’s probably something I should think about—I mean, what am I going to do after graduation? Get a job? I guess I’m going to have to.

  Suddenly I’m depressed. What’s the point of even graduating? I’m probably going to end up at some shitty job making shitty money. Harper’s going to Ballard. It’s in Rhode Island, just far enough away for her to meet some other guy.

  I force myself to focus back on the conversation. But no one’s saying anything. We’re all just sort of standing there with tension in the air.

  There’s tension between me and Anna, tension between Anna and Nico. There’s even a little bit of tension between me and Harper.

  And that’s when the school nurse decides to descend on our little group.

  I’m very familiar with the school nurse, because back in the day I’d fake a lot of illnesses. I’d go down to the nurse’s office clutching my stomach and pretending I’d just thrown up in the bathroom. They have to let you go hom
e if you’ve thrown up. It’s, like, a rule or something. And since no one could prove I hadn’t, they’d have to let me go.

  It wasn’t even that big a deal. The nurse didn’t really care that I was lying. She’s actually kind of cool, in an old, doddering-woman kind of way.

  “Penn!” she exclaims when she sees me. “I haven’t seen you in a while!” She sounds like I’m an old friend she’s missed, and not just a delinquent student who misused her trust to get out of going to class.

  “Yeah, well,” I say, shrugging. “I’ve gotten my stomach issues worked out.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet.” She purses her lips and looks at me knowingly. “Anyway, I’m looking for a student, and I’m hoping you can help.” She waves a list of names in front of me. “These students are trying to get out of getting their physicals, so I’m trying to track them down.”

  Next to me I feel Harper stiffen.

  The nurse glances down at the paper. “Do any of you know Harper Fairbanks?”

  Nico averts his gaze and stares down at the paper in front of him. Anna lets out this big sigh, like she can’t believe the jig is up.

  And then, before I even know what’s happening, I say to the nurse with a straight face, “No. I don’t know Harper Fairbanks.” I add in a little shrug for good measure.

  “It’s the strangest thing,” the nurse says, shaking her head. “I swear, I cannot find this girl. I’ve tried everything, and I just cannot find her.” The nurse seems flummoxed, which is a nod to Harper’s stealth avoidance skills, obviously.

  “I think she moved away,” Anna says. “Didn’t she move away, Nico?”

  Nico frowns. “Harper Fairbanks? Yeah, I think she might have moved away. She used to be in my science class, but then I think she moved to Florida. She had allergies or something, so her parents moved her right out.” He makes a miming motion, like her parents physically picked her up and set her down in Florida.

  “Yup,” I agree. “Right out.”

  “Because of allergies?” The nurse seems shocked. “I didn’t know allergies in New England could get that bad.”