“Are you doing okay?” Trevor asks, watching me intently.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You forget—this is old hat for me.”
“Oh. Yeah, right. You just seem a little . . .”
He trails off, and I look at him curiously.
“A little what?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. Never mind. Do you want to go back in?”
“No, let’s stay out here for a few minutes while we can.”
Trevor’s face reflects his relief at my words, though he turns to try to hide it from me.
“Jen! There you are, baby!” Kyle’s too loud words come out the door as he stumbles through. Trevor’s lips tighten at his endearment, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Surely he’s not jealous of Kyle?
“Hey, Trevor, my man, mind if I steal your chick for a minute? I have something I want to show her.”
Trevor’s face tightens at this, and I wonder if he’ll say no. Instead, he looks at me, and I can read his face as if he spoke aloud. He’s asking me if this is what I want. I kind of like this jealousness, so I smile.
“I’ll be right back.” I hand him my cup to hold for me. His eyes flash—or is it just the reflection of the lightning?—and so I give him a little break. I lean up and kiss him, making it clear to Kyle that we have progressed beyond mere friends. Trevor’s eyes widen a little at this unexpectedness.
“Don’t go away,” I whisper, turning to follow Kyle, immediately regretting that I agreed to this when Kyle takes my hand and pulls me back into the hot, overcrowded house. His hand doesn’t feel right in mine, too soft and sweaty. He pulls me into the den, which has been abandoned by his father, who is most likely upstairs in his room by now.
“What is it, Kyle?” I demand impatiently. The volume of the music and laughter drowns part of my sentence and takes the edge from my words.
“I’ve got something for you.” He smiles in his impression of a villain and waggles his eyebrows. I feel the first stirring of discomfort.
“I should go back out—”
Kyle turns away from my words, pulling me further into the room. Suddenly Beth and Ella are there, throwing their arms around me in welcome. We try to have a shouted conversation, but the effort is too great.
Finally, Kyle walks over and closes the glass doors, muffling the music somewhat. Beth pulls me over to sit on the couch next to her.
“I was wondering if you had left your foster family and we hadn’t heard,” she accuses.
“I’m sorry, I should have called. I’ve just been—”
“I know, working on your project. What, did you decide to take a day off?” She looks around to see if she’s missed him.
“Romeo is out back,” Kyle interrupts, sliding down onto the coffee table directly in front of me.
“Romeo?” Ella questions with a laugh as she plops down on my other side, sandwiching me between the twins.
“Either that, or Jen here is into making out with her friends.” He laughs, but I can hear the question in his voice, wanting to know what’s going on between us. I refuse to take the bait, but Beth jumps in.
“Part of the plan, right, Jen?”
I don’t answer as they all laugh. I don’t want to talk about Trevor to them.
“So, you said you have something for me?” I bring Kyle’s lethargic attention back to me.
“Oh yeah, baby. Boy, do I ever. Rick!” he calls over my shoulder. A boy I don’t know ambles over and hands something to Kyle. I stare at the elongated glass contraption, water in the bottom of the glass bowl, the small pipe jutting from the side already loaded. Kyle brings it to his lips and lowers his lighter, inhaling deeply. He hands it to me, and automatically I take it. I stare down at it, numb. It wasn’t all that long ago that I would have taken this from Kyle or anyone gladly, figuring a hit or two never hurt anyone—and that actually sometimes it helped.
Now my mind is filled with other thoughts: the family I’ve nearly decided to stay with who will throw me out if they find out, Todd’s trusting eyes, even Carol, eyes filled with knowing. Mostly though, the most important face pushes all the other thoughts aside, eyes filled with repulsion and hatred.
As if my thoughts conjure him, Beth and Ella gasp in unison, and I follow their eyes up to the glass doors to see Trevor standing there, watching me holding Kyle’s surprise for me. There is no repulsion or hatred in his eyes; it is far worse. The disappointment and grief I see there cause my heart to stutter to a stop. I stand up quickly, thrusting it back at Kyle; my movements make me look guiltier. Trevor doesn’t move, just watches as I hurry toward the door. I pull it open, then flee past his shocked face, ignoring the hand that reaches feebly for me.
I rush out the front door into the ripping wind and down the steps, thunder rolling across the sky in tandem with the lightning now. Fat raindrops spatter my face as I begin to run, away from what I am, from what I have always been, from what I will always be.
21. The Lightning Strikes
My side aches, and my lungs scream in protest, but still I run. I’m drenched from the storm, which drives down furiously now. I barely notice. I run blindly, unaware of my surroundings, trying to find peace from my guilt, from my breaking heart. I’m not sure how long I’ve been running when I realize there’s no escape.
As if my realization is the permission my body needs, it suddenly gives out. I stumble with legs gone rubber and collapse beneath a tree, landing on my knees and palms with a wretched howl that blends into the roll of thunder overhead. I drop to my side and curl up in a ball in the wet leaves, hating the tears and the pitiful sounds coming from me, but unable to stop them.
And then, like a miracle, he’s there, pulling me up against him, breath heaving, his arms bands of steel that hold me together tight against his hard chest.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I gasp repeatedly as he rocks me. The fact that he’s here, that his kindness runs so deep that he would follow me after what he saw, what he now knows, how much he must hate me . . . his compassion cuts me, amplifies my guilt.
He’s talking as I keep gasping my apology, the words muffled with my head pressed against his chest, his hand smoothing my hair over and over. Eventually, what he’s saying, what he himself is repeating over and over, begins to penetrate.
“It doesn’t matter, Jen. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”
My grief flashes into anger at his words, and I push away from him angrily.
“How can you say that?” I explode at him. “Of course it matters. Of course it’s not okay! I’m a loser, Trev. You have to see that now. This is what I am. It’s all I’m ever going to be! I’m not like you. I’m never going to be like you.”
The sky lights up with a flash as a clap of thunder crashes across us. In the light I see his face clearly for just a second, and if I didn’t know better I would swear he’s smiling. Darkness descends again, and he becomes an indistinct outline. He reaches out, hand sliding down my sodden arm, and pulls my hand into both of his, not even caring that it’s covered in mud and leaves.
“I don’t remember ever asking you to be like me,” he says, threading his fingers through mine.
“Trevor, I know you didn’t. You wouldn’t. You’re too perfect.” I’m sharp with him, but he doesn’t pull away. “This wasn’t supposed to be this way. When I started . . .” I trail off, knowing that now is the time, now is when I need to tell him the truth. I continue, “I never meant for this to be so . . .” A flash lights his face, and I see confusion. “You’re all that is good, Trev, and I’m all that is . . . not.”
He’s silent for a moment, and I know he’s coming to the realization that my words are true, that he’s a fool to have wasted any time on me.
“Says who?” he finally asks quietly, and I almost don’t hear him over the sound of the rain beating against the tree above us. I don’t answer, and he gives my hand a little jerk.
“Who says that you’re not good?” He sounds a little angry. “Who says
that, Jen? Kyle? Beth? Ella? Your mother? You? Who gave any of you the right to decide who’s good and who’s not?”
“Oh, c’mon, Trev. Tell me that before you knew me you didn’t think you were better than me, better than any of my friends?”
“Not better—different,” he says, and I laugh scornfully, or rather I try to, but it gets tangled in my throat. He jerks my hand again, and the lightning reveals the intense anger on his face.
“No, I don’t party; no, I don’t dress in black leather and chains; that’s not my style. That’s how I was raised. I worry about getting good grades and I go to church and I watch sci-fi movies and I generally follow the rules. Most people would call me a geek or a nerd. You’ve called me that many times.
“But that isn’t everything that defines me. I mean, look at me, sitting here in a rainstorm under a tree that’s probably going to kill us when the lightning hits it, holding the hand of a pretty cool girl who really is the opposite of me, a girl that I happen to be in love with. A girl I couldn’t have imagined would want to be with me. But here she is, letting me hold her hand, trying to tell me why she isn’t good enough for me. That’s crazy.”
The rain is tapering off, slowing while Trevor is giving me this amazing speech, but I can’t respond. My mind is stuck on one thing he said, the one thing that glares in the night brighter than any of the lightning that has come before. As if in answer, the lightning chooses that moment to streak across the sky, followed in quick succession by three more. It gives Trevor a clear view of my stunned expression.
“What?” he sounds defensive.
“Trev, what you just said . . .”
“Yeah?” Now he’s wary.
“Did you say . . . in . . . love . . . with?”
His outline shrugs, and he shifts uncomfortably.
“Yeah, so what? Tell me you didn’t know that.”
The sky lights once more, the thunder rolling again, further away now.
“Wait, you didn’t know?” he asks when my silence grows between us.
I shake my head, stunned by this revelation, especially after tonight’s events.
“How could you not know?” he asks softly, squeezing my hand.
“I didn’t think you . . .” I trail off, and Trevor leans toward me intently.
“It doesn’t change anything, Jen. I’ve felt this way for a long time now. No pressure, I don’t expect anything to cha—” His words cut off with a grunt as I launch myself against him, flattening him against the wet leaves beneath us, his arms instinctively coming tightly around me. I kiss him, not an easy task with the big grin on my face.
He reaches up and traces my face, pulling back when he feels the wetness there.
“You’re crying?” he asks gently.
“I seem to be doing that a lot lately. Sorry.”
“Did I make you cry?” He sounds horrified.
“Yup,” I laugh. “Thank you.” I kiss him again.
“Okaaay,” he draws the word out. “I’m confused.”
“Trev, I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, I swear I didn’t. But I couldn’t help it. I’ve been so mad about that.”
“Mad? . . . Really? Why would that make you mad? Because your friends wouldn’t like it?”
I laugh again.
“I quit caring what they think a long time ago. I was mad because I figured there was no way you could ever love me, and that meant I had to bring you down to my level just so I could deserve you.”
Trevor flips me over, and I find myself pinned down while he straddles me, my arms held above my head. He leans down so that his face is right above mine.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” His voice is softly menacing. I smile at him. A flash of lightning reveals he’s also grinning down at me.
“We’re both idiots, Trev.”
He grunts in agreement.
“Maybe that’s what makes us perfect for each other.”
“Maybe so,” he says just before planting a firm kiss on my mouth. He pulls up, drawing me with him. He scoots back against the tree trunk, pulling me against him and wrapping his arms around me against the chill air. I thread my fingers through his, pulling his arms tighter.
“Trev, I want you to know, I wasn’t planning to smoke Kyle’s—”
“It doesn’t matter, Jen,” he cuts me off. “I’m not asking you to change.”
“It does matter. I want you to know. There was a time when I wouldn’t have even thought twice about it. But since I’ve met you, I haven’t wanted to do anything like that. I’ve watched you, I’ve hung out with your family and friends, and I don’t want to do things that are self-destructive anymore. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I want to be someone who your mom wouldn’t be horrified to see show up on her doorstep for her son.” A strangled sound comes from Trevor, but I put a finger on his mouth to stop his words.
“I want to be someone who my family would be glad to adopt. Mostly I want to be someone who deserves you. And I think that’s a good thing, don’t you?”
I can feel the tension in his shoulders, feel him wanting to argue. Finally he sighs.
“If you think it’s good, Jen. But only if it’s what you want. I don’t want you to do it because you think it’s what I want.”
“Seriously, Trev, I think for the first time in my life I want to have a future, a good future, and I can’t get there by living the way I have been.”
He doesn’t answer, just pulls me firmly against him. After a few silent minutes, he speaks.
“I’m glad you came into my life, Jen. I still don’t know why you did, but I don’t care. I’m just glad you did, glad you turned my world upside down, which is really right side up.”
I swallow the lump of guilt in my throat. Someday, I think, someday I’ll tell him. Just not right now.
“I am too, Trev. Who knew that you would be The One.” I smile. “Which I guess makes me your Trinity.”
“My Amidala.”
“Your Zira.”
“My Sylvia.”
“Your . . .” I scour my brain, trying to remember some other great sci-fi love interest.
“My what?” he laughs.
“Ha! I’m your Saphira.” I settle back smugly, only for Trevor to start laughing.
“What?” I demand.
“Saphira is a dragon.”
“I know, but Eragon needed her, and she needed him.”
“Okay, I’ll concede that.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “But I don’t think she’d be much fun to kiss. I’d rather you were my Arya.”
I turn into him, running my finger over his lips lightly.
“Maybe I’ll just be your Jen,” I tease.
“Sounds about right to me,” he says, leaning down to show me how much better it is to kiss a human than to kiss a dragon.
22. Adopting a New Lifestyle Isn’t for the Weak of Heart
The adoption is going pretty easily and quickly. I guess between my mother’s willingness to sign me away yet again and the fact that the Grants were already state-approved to be my foster parents moved things along. I’m guessing my advanced age also has something to do with it. The Grants want to have a party on Saturday, the day it will be official, to celebrate. I’m pleased that they think it is something worth celebrating, because I definitely think it is.
Weird.
I’m also nervous about it because of my natural pessimism and sense of doom. Something will go wrong like it always seems to when my life is going too well.
I decide to call Beth and Ella and invite them over since they are my only real girl friends, and maybe this will be a way to make things right with them.
“So,” I begin hesitantly when they pick up two separate phones on the same line at their house. “I was wondering if you both want to come by my house on Saturday, around five.”
“Five? Isn’t that kind of early for a party?” Beth asks.
“Not for this kind of a party. It’s a family thing.”
There is dead silence on the phone. Beth and Ella are really the only two real friends I’ve had since living in this area, but in their silence I realize that we’ve never really been friends, definitely not the kind of friends who go to one another’s “family things.” I clear my throat uncomfortably.
“Actually, it’s a kind of celebration. I didn’t want to tell you until it was done, you know, the whole didn’t-want-to-jinx-it thing. But actually, the Grants want to adopt me. It’ll be all signed and done on Saturday.”
Another heavy silence, then Ella speaks.
“Soooo,” she draws the word out, confusion lacing her voice, “you’re saying that you’re not planning a big blow-up? You’re sticking around?”
“Well, yeah.”
“So, when did all of this happen?” Beth sounds angry. “You haven’t said anything to us.”
“I know. I’m sorry about that. It’s just been kind of wild, I guess.” I feel like I have to defend myself. “It’s all happened really fast. After I went to see my mother, I—”
“You went to see your mother?” Ella interrupts. “When was this?”
“Not that long ago, Ella. I just really didn’t want to talk much about it.”
“To us, you mean? You didn’t want to talk about it to us? Who then? Who did you talk to about it, Jen? Your science project? Is he the one you confide in now?” Beth’s voice is rising, and I feel myself flush with mortification. Then I hear her slam the phone down. There’s only silence.
“Ella?” I ask, hesitant.
She sighs.
“Don’t mind her, Jen. She’s been fighting with her boyfriend, and she’s got PMS all at once.”
“Are you mad at me?” I ask.
“No, not really. I mean, I wish you would have told us sooner, but it doesn’t really matter, I guess.”
“I really wasn’t trying to keep it from you. Things have just been weird for me, you know? No one has ever wanted to adopt me before.”
“Yeah, but that was kinda your fault, right? I mean, you told us about some of the things you did to get yourself kicked out. You can’t really blame any of them.”