I sigh. "So what should I do?”
“Sorry to tell you,” Mike says. “But this time? The guru is fresh out of plans.”
If you looked up “desperation” in the dictionary, there would be a picture of me. Lying on my bed. Staring at the ceiling. Thinking about what to do.
I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I’m entirely unable to concentrate on anything. Even writing music. The band is the only thing that’s been keeping me from calling Sara every second.
I reach over and pick up the phone. I dial.
I slam the phone back down.
If I call her, I won’t be respecting her need for space. She tells me she needs space and then I call her? That would be wrong.
But if I don’t call her, she’ll think I don’t care.
I have to call her.
When her answering machine comes on, I almost hang up. But then I start talking.
“Hey. It’s me. I know how you said you needed some space and I respect that but I also want you to know that I miss you. A lot. And I’m sorry I lied to you but I didn’t want to hurt you and I was so wrong. I swear it won’t happen again. And when you said you needed space I should have said this and I just wanted to say that . . . I love you.”
I slam the phone down. I realize I’m sweating.
And then suddenly I have an idea. I grab two CDs and my boom box.
I almost dislocate my knee racing downstairs. I fling the door open and run out into the night.
CHAPTER 43
time
march 22, 8:18 p.m.
I just got Tobey’s message. He told me he loves me. It’s only like the third time he’s said it. Which is kind of weird because Tobey’s the most sensitive guy I know. But I’ve always thought it was because when he says it, he really means it and it’s a big deal to him. My stomach is all butterflies. I want to call him back, but I must have said I need space for a reason.
I get up and open my window a little. The cool air calms me down.
I get into bed and stare at the ceiling. I think about living in New York City. Maybe even with Tobey.
And then I hear it.
At first, I don’t know what it is. It sounds like the neighbors are playing music. But when I recognize the song, I know where it’s coming from.
I get up and look out into the backyard. Where Tobey’s standing. Holding his boom box over his head.
Playing a song about the light and heat in my eyes.
I open my window all the way and watch him. He must be the only boy who actually remembers the details of his girlfriend’s life. Not only does he remember my favorite movie scene, but he gets it enough to do this. And he’s doing it today because he also knows how I’ve been waiting for spring all winter and today is the vernal equinox.
As usual, Mom is out late with Howard. So it doesn’t matter when Tobey climbs through my window.
I hug him as tightly as I can. He hugs me back. Then he pulls a box out of his coat pocket.
“Make-up gift number one,” he says.
It’s a blue lightbulb. Just like the one in his room. It’s just like that John Mayer lyric about blue lights on a black night, how there’s something about them that makes you feel more.
“I’ve had this for a while.” Tobey unscrews the regular bulb from my lamp and twists the blue light in. My entire room glows blue. Now my room is just like his.
Tobey takes off his coat and sweater. “I brought that live Dave Matthews I was telling you about.” He puts the CD in my stereo. “There’s this one song you have to hear.”
“Which one?”
" ’Say Goodbye.’ ”
“Oh my god! I love that song!”
Tobey puts one hand on my waist and holds out his other hand for mine. “Wait till you hear it live.”
We dance in the blue light. And we kiss in the blue light. And most of my clothes come off in the blue light. Time disappears. . . .
And then I remember how I visualized all of this, exactly how it’s happening right now, way back in October. So the universe obviously decided that we belong together.
All of the reasons why we belong together come racing back. And right then, I forgive him. And I believe that he won’t lie to me again.
When Tobey takes off his T-shirt, he has a gray tank top on underneath. He’s wearing that and jeans. I’m only in my bra and panties. The universe told me to avoid my ratty old ones when I got out of the shower. Now I know why.
In this new world where anything is possible and dreams really do come true, we dance. And when it gets to that point of no return, the place I’ve been so scared of, it doesn’t feel scary anymore.
And I let him take me there.
CHAPTER 44
heavy info—part one
march 23, 4:09 p.m.
“Have you noticed,” Josh says to Mike, “that Tobey looks suspiciously happy today?”
“I have. Wanna fill us in, man?”
We’re working on some new song lyrics at Jim’s, but so far we’re blocked. Jim is not a guy. It’s this coffeehouse that rocks. They have the strongest coffee anywhere, and you can stay for as long as you want, even after you’re done with your drink and it’s obvious you’re not getting another one anytime soon.
“Not really.” I try to hide a smile.
“Is he smiling?” Josh says.
“It would appear so.”
They look at me.
“What?”
Josh smirks at Mike.
“What happened last night?” Mike says.
“Nothing. I mean, I was at Sara’s. . . .”
“Did you guys make up?” Josh says.
“Oh yeah.” I can’t hide the smile this time.
Mike looks at Josh. "Our boy is concealing some heavy info. I wonder what it could be?”
“Haven’t got a clue,” Josh says.
“You can give it a rest, because I’m not talking.”
Josh is about to press me, but then two girls who he’s been eyeing ever since we got here get up to leave. As they pass us, Josh says, "What’s up, ladies?”
The girls don’t even look at him.
Josh leans back and stretches his arms over his head. “Oh yeah, they want me.”
“So,” Mike says. "Did you finally—”
“What’s the story with you and Maggie?” I ask Josh.
“I’m asking her out tomorrow. No—I’m doing it now!” He takes his cell phone out and presses buttons.
“Whoa!” Mike says. “When did you decide this?”
“Just now. This whole thing . . . it would make an awesome song.”
“Brainstorm!” Mike yells.Which is what he always yells when someone has an idea for a song.
I click my pen. "Okay...”
Josh listens and snaps his phone shut. "Voice mail.”
“Okay,” Mike says. "You see this girl across a room or a club or whatever, and you don’t even know her, but she gives you a look, and you know you have to know her . . . and you can’t explain why or anything. . . .”
“Yeah,” Josh says. “It’s, like, magnetic . . . and then she’s, like . . .”
They tell the story and I take notes. I wonder if they realize they’re telling my story. But it doesn’t even matter. Because finally, we have one of our own that’s good enough to tell.
CHAPTER 45
heavy info—part two
march 23, 4:09 p.m.
“You mean you’re not dating for the rest of the year?” I whisper.
“No,” Maggie whispers back. “I mean I’m not dating again ever. As in ever again in my life. What’s the point? It never works out.”
We’re in the library doing homework. But I haven’t had a chance to talk to Laila or Maggie all day, so they still don’t know about last night. I was going to tell them when we got here, but Maggie started talking right away. The deal with her fatalistic attitude is that her parents are going though their divorce proceedings and they’re being nasty about it. She’s given up
all hope of finding something real.
“You’re just dating the wrong guys.” I scooch my chair closer. “You’ll find the right one.”
Laila leans over. “Or maybe it can be arranged.”
“What? Like a blind date?”
“No. Like an arranged marriage.”
“Where are we?” Maggie says. “Beirut?”
“I recently discovered news that is both hilarious and disturbing.” Laila motions for us to lean in across the table. Then she whispers, “My parents still have sex!”
“No way!” I go. I’d be less shocked if Jake Gyllenhaal emerged from the stacks and asked me out. Laila’s been referring to her parents’ celibate lifestyle for years.
“Unfortunately. Remember how I was supposed to sleep over at your place last Saturday? Well, they thought I was there but I was really studying in my room. And then I went to the kitchen for a caffeine fix, and I heard them.”
“Oh my god!” Maggie yells. Some girls at the next table snap their heads up and grill us with these irritated looks. “They were doing it in the kitchen?”
“Ew! No! I heard them in their room.”
“Bad times,” I say.
“Wow,” Maggie says.
“I know. I’m damaged for life. It’s too offensive for words. We need to talk about something else now.”
“Hey,” I say to Maggie. “I was trying to call you last night. But then—”
“Oh, sorry. I was IMing with Josh.”
“What?” I go. “Since when?”
"Um . . . since he started IMing me?”
"I knew it.” Laila turns the page of her calc book. "You so like him.”
“Have you been listening to me at all? I just told you I’m not dating anymore. Hello!”
“So you say . . .” Laila sets up a new problem in her notebook.
I go, “Do you . . . like, feel it with Josh?”
Maggie opens her notebook. “I feel . . . something. I don’t know what I feel. And anyway, we’re just friends.”
“For now,” Laila says.
“It’s just that he understands about the divorce. His parents got divorced a long time ago.”
“Hmmm.”
Maggie gives up. It’s almost impossible to win an argument with Laila. Especially when you know she’s right. Even if you don’t want to admit it.
Maggie’s cell phone rings. The girls grill us again.
“Sorry!” Maggie yell-whispers to them. She takes her phone out and turns it off, looking at who called.
“Who was that?” I say.
“Jake called. He wants to know if this weekend’s good for you.”
“Duh, he already knows I have a date with Marshall.”
“Who’s Marshall?” Laila says.
“Hello!” I yell-whisper. “As in Mathers!”
She still has this blank look.
“As in Eminem!”
“Oh right,” Laila says. “Naturally.”
“No, really.” I glance at Maggie. “Who was that?”
Maggie picks up her pen. “Um . . . Josh?”
“Aha!” Laila says. “Admit it already. The two of you have been secretly dating since sophomore year, and now you’re planning to elope to Mexico.”
“No way,” I say. “We have to be in the wedding.”
Maggie writes in her notebook like we’re not even there.
We all go back to doing homework. But I can’t concentrate. I have to tell them.
“You guys,” I whisper.
Laila keeps working. Maggie looks up.
“Something happened last night,” I say.
Laila looks up. “What?”
“Well . . . Tobey came over . . . and we . . .”
“Oh my god,” Maggie says. “I knew it!”
“What?” Laila says.
“Start from the beginning,” Maggie instructs. “And don’t leave anything out.”
Which is exactly what I intend to do.
CHAPTER 46
into the night
april 23, 12:32 p.m.
Josh runs over to our table. He slams his backpack down. He yells, "I got into Rutgers!”
“Genius!” I hold my hand up for him to slap.
“Was that your first choice?” Sara asks.
“No, my safety. But I didn’t even think I’d get in there!”
“So you’ll all be near New York!” Maggie says.
“We don’t know for sure yet.” Sara stresses. “Don’t jinx it.”
I keep trying to convince Sara that nothing else will go wrong with NYU. She’s usually so good about staying positive and her whole visualization stuff, but she’s been majorly stressing this. She just wants this one thing so badly.
“We’ll be neighbors,” Mike tells her. “The New School’s right next to NYU.”
“And Manhattan Academy’s, like, three subway stops away.” I got my acceptance letter last week. My parents still haven’t stopped smiling.
Now that it’s real, I’m kind of stoked about college. And not just to impress Sara or my dad. I’m excited for myself.
Mike looks at Laila. “Are you psyched about Penn?” Laila got her acceptance letter a while ago because she applied early decision.
“Of course. But only because I find Yale way too pretentious. ”
I laugh. Laila’s a trip.
“What about you?” Mike says to Maggie.
“Oh,” Maggie says.“I’m still waiting to hear from Florida State. It’s either that or California.”
Josh comes racing back from the lunch line with this huge piece of chocolate cake. “They have cake!” he announces.
“So we see,” Laila says.
“Yeah, but is it any good?” Maggie scrunches up her face.
“Let’s see.” Josh peels the plastic wrap off the cake. Icing gets stuck to the wrapper. He swipes his finger through the icing and tastes it. "The icing’s good.” He holds the plate out to Maggie. She shakes her head.
“You better watch your cake fetish,” Mike tells him. “You’re at serious risk of the Freshman Fifteen. And I hear Rutgers has an outstanding cafeteria.”
“Do you want a piece?” I ask Sara.
“Okay, but only if you’re getting one.”
“Yeah,” I say. "I was getting more iced tea, anyway.”
In line, I inspect the cake section. I want to make sure I pick the biggest piece with the most icing. It’s the little things that make Sara happy.
After school, Mike and Josh and I are up in our old tree house. We used to have really important meetings here about which CDs were missing from our collections and which girls might possibly be wearing training bras.
Somehow I remember it being a lot bigger than this.
“How did you talk me into this again?” I say.
“Dude!” Mike yells from inside the secret compartment. "I found my old Etch-A-Sketch. Righteous!”
I shift my weight on a rotted-out board.“I think I’m too tall for this.”
“Come on,” Josh says. “Live a little.”
I sit down on a stool that’s older than me. “So what’s the latest with Maggie?”
“I don’t know. We’ve only gone out twice. It’s like she’s avoiding me or something.”
“Imagine that.” Mike shakes his Etch-A-Sketch.
“What if . . .” Josh walks over to the tiny window.
“What if what?” I say.
“No, it’s just . . . what if I tell Maggie how I feel about her, and she doesn’t feel the same way?”
“You have to take the risk. If I didn’t, there’s no way I’d be with Sara now.” I want them to know exactly how Sara’s changed me in ways I never thought possible. But instead I say, "Just go for it, man. Whatever happens happens.”
“You know what? Yeah. I’m calling her.” Josh takes out his cell phone. “And I’m telling her exactly how I feel. I’m nice, yo!”
“Don’t call yet,” Mike says. "Let’s plan what you’re saying first.”
>
Josh looks at me. We crack up.
“What?” Mike says.
The garage door is open. Light spills out into the night.
“When’s your mom coming home?” Josh says.
“Late,” Mike says. “We have time.”
During our tree-house meeting, we decided that the band is on an unofficial hiatus. Lately we’ve been getting together only to jam and stay sharp. I finally realized that it would be impractical to continue this as if it were going somewhere. So this is our last jam.
“From the top,” Mike says.
We’re playing this old Bob Seger song called “Night Moves.” It’s a good song for us because the guitar and bass and drum parts are equally fierce.The song’s all about being young and free and making out in your car with the girl you love. The things that matter in life.
CHAPTER 47
into the unknown
april 24, 4:25 p.m.
Technically, it’s not spying if you’re looking into your neighbor’s window—and you can see stuff inside—if they don’t even have their curtains closed. It’s like, come on. How are you not going to look? But I have a valid purpose here. I’m sitting in my yard, working in my sketchbook. My neighbors have the best windows for miles around. Each window has this little crank inside and you turn the crank to open or close the window. I wish I thought of that first.
I love these warm spring days. The anticipation of everything.
I switch to a thinner pastel stick. Drawing the angle between the windowsill and the side of the open window is harder than it looks.
Mom drops my mail on top of what I’m doing. Don’t mind me. I’m only trying to prepare for my future career.
She goes, “Here’s your mail.”
“Hm.”
After she leaves, I sift through a catalog and a letter from my pen pal from camp and something from NYU and—
Oh my god.
It’s here.
I hold the NYU letter in front of me and stare at it, hoping for a telepathic message. It’s thick. That’s supposed to be a good sign. I hold the envelope up in front of the sun. I can’t see through it. Of course I can’t. It’s too thick! I have to open it. I’m dying to open it. But I can’t do this alone.