Keep Holding On

  “I like fun.”

  I like fun? Seriously?

  “Cool, so—”

  “But I can’t go.”

  “Oh.”

  I desperately want to say yes. But even if we just went as friends, it wouldn’t be right. I could never do that to Matt. I’d hate it if Matt hung out with some girl he liked.

  “It’s just … it’s complicated,” I say.

  “Bummer. Well, I guess I’ll just have to have fun without you.”

  I can’t believe this is really happening. I can’t believe Julian doesn’t know he’s too good for me. Maybe he doesn’t see it now. But eventually, he will. And he’ll realize he’s better off without me.

  nine

  thursday, april 21

  (41 days left)

  Ms. Scofield is extra perky today.

  “Inertia!” she cheers. “Bet you didn’t know that our optics unit relates to Newton’s Laws. But it does. Everything is connected. So. Who remembers Newton’s First Law?”

  We all avert our eyes to prevent getting called on.

  “Like I’m really going to believe you guys forgot Newton’s Laws? You’re smarter than that.”

  I hear someone flipping through their notes in the back. Jolene DelMonico raises her hand.

  “Yay!” Ms. Scofield says. “A sign of life! What can you tell us?”

  “An object in motion remains in motion and an object at rest remains at rest unless acted upon by an outside force.”

  “Exactly. So things keep doing what they’re doing unless something comes along to change that. That’s inertia.”

  She grabs the Gumby and Pokey figures that are always smiling at us from her desk. She’s had them since she was in high school. One time she said how she wished she had more stuff from high school to show us and how she regrets not keeping her journals. I wonder why she got rid of all those things.

  “Gumby and Pokey will now demonstrate inertia.” Ms. Scofield places them on the demo table.

  Then she just watches them. We watch her watch them.

  “What’s happening?” she asks.

  “Nothing,” Warner calls out.

  He’s sharp, that one.

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “They’re just sitting there.”

  “Why?”

  “Because nothing’s making them move.”

  “Aha!” Ms. Scofield yells. Ali’s book falls off her desk with a loud smack. “So something has to happen to change their inaction. They’ll keep being still like this until something comes along to change their static state. For Gumby and Pokey, inertia means that they’ll stay exactly like this unless an outside force makes them move in some way.”

  I know all about inertia. This town is squishing me down like a bug it really wants to kill, but is having too much fun torturing.

  “But then!” Ms. Scofield smacks Gumby. Gumby goes flying toward the door. “An outside force puts Gumby into motion.” Gumby skitters across the floor and stops. “And now he’s at rest again. What made Gumby stop moving?”

  “Friction,” a few people offer.

  “Nice. You guys sound tired. Feeling tired today?” Ms. Scofield picks up Pokey. She puts him on her head.

  “Awesome,” Simon declares. He snaps a picture of Ms. Scofield with his phone.

  “That phone’s not on, is it?” she asks him.

  “Of course not. It’s on airplane mode.”

  “Doesn’t ‘on airplane mode’ mean it’s on?”

  “It’s not on on,” Simon clarifies. “Just minimally on.”

  I love how Ms. Scofield is having a regular conversation like a rubber pony isn’t standing on her head. She’s never afraid to look like a nerd. On the first day, she told us that she’s the nerdiest person in the room. And that no one should even try to have a dork-off with her because they would drastically lose that battle. Her corny, zany teaching style works. I’m pretty sure we’ll always remember inertia after watching Gumby go zinging across the room.

  Inertia and I go way back. An object remains at rest unless acted upon by an outside force. Story of my life.

  I wonder what my outside force will be.

  I tried calling Sherae last night right after I got off the phone with Julian, but her phone was off. She’s been turning it off a lot lately. At first I thought it was to avoid Hector’s calls, but she said he stopped calling her so I don’t know. She wasn’t online, either. I left a message saying I had something major to discuss at our daily meetup.

  Sherae is violently ripping up a piece of paper at her locker.

  “Another note?” I ask.

  “The dumbass strikes again. So what’s going on?”

  “Oh, nothing.” There’s some white Nimbus fur on the sleeve of her black cardigan. I brush it off. “Just that Julian asked me out.”

  “He asked you out?!”

  I nod.

  “When?”

  “He called me last night.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I tried. Your phone was off and you weren’t online.”

  “Dude. He is so in love with you.”

  “Hardly.”

  “What did you say?”

  “What do you think?”

  “That you realize Matt is a skeeze and of course you’ll go out with Julian?”

  “First off, Matt is not a skeeze. It just takes him a while to open up to people. And I couldn’t go out with Julian even if I wasn’t with Matt.”

  “Why not?”

  I give Sherae a look like, Isn’t it obvious?

  “Why not?” she demands.

  “I’m not … enough for him.”

  “How can you think that? He totally likes you. I told you that fight with Warner was about you.”

  “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m with Matt.”

  “But you have a choice. You don’t have to be with Matt. You could be with Julian.”

  “Maybe I want to be with Matt. Maybe that’s why I’m with him.”

  “Or maybe you’re afraid to have something real with a boy who clearly adores you.”

  “Matt adores me.”

  “Really? Because last time I checked, he stood you up. Oh, and he refuses to be seen with you in public.”

  Why does Sherae have to be so nasty about this? Just because Matt isn’t acting the way she wants him to doesn’t make him unworthy. I know he cares about me. He just needs more time, is all.

  Not that I’m about to explain all this to Sherae again. It’s better just to drop it. I cannot get in a fight with her about this. Or about anything. She’s the only person I can completely count on to be there for me.

  Hooking up with Matt is hotter than ever. I wish we could stay out here at our place forever. I love how it’s like we’re hidden from the rest of the world. I love how nice it is out. And I love how Matt is making me feel. I can’t remember the last time I felt this good.

  Matt kisses me with fierce intensity. I kiss him back even harder.

  We so need to get a room.

  It’s hard to believe that having sex with an actual boy is a possibility for me. My relationship with Matt is nothing like what I wish I had with Julian. It’s not like Matt’s about to come over after school for fresh-baked cookies. We’d probably just end up doing it in the back of his car or something. Matt totally wants to do it. So do I. I think. I mean, my hormones definitely want to. But something is holding me back. We haven’t even been together that long. I just don’t want to rush into anything before I absolutely know for sure that I’m ready.

  Not that deciding to wait makes me want to do it any less.

  I’m really nervous about seeing Julian in class. What do you say to the boy you rejected last night? Do you smile at him to see if he’s mad? Do you ignore him so he won’t be embarrassed? Do you pretend like nothing happened?

  Julian’s already at his desk when I get to Spanish. He doesn’t look at me. When class ends, he’s out the door before I even have my stu
ff together.

  I take my time walking to lit mag. It’s not like I’ll get in trouble for being late. If I wanted to, I could even go the long way down the hall where Julian’s locker is. Not that I’d see him. The way he raced out of class, he’s probably at lunch already.

  I go down his hall anyway.

  And there he is.

  Two of Julian’s friends are at his locker. I’ve had classes with them, but we’ve never talked or anything. Still, you can tell they’re not like all the standard obnoxious boys who go here. They might even like me if Julian and I were together. It could be this whole new world of friends.

  Julian’s laughing at something one of his friends said. His glasses frames are catching the light in that way that makes them glint electric blue. Right before he slams his locker, I see his messenger bag inside with the orange star on it. Everything about Julian Porter shines.

  Sherae declared the need for some serious mall time after school. I’m looking forward to zoning out in that groggy daze induced by artificial foliage and the comforting aroma of Auntie Anne’s pretzels. The mall we go to is forty minutes away. It’s massive. The smaller mall closer to town is where Matt and I were supposed to go. Most kids from school go there. Which is why we come here.

  Even though the massive mall is in another suburb, it feels like a city to me. The town has a more urban feel. It has actual things to do. There’s a zing of excitement in the air, like you know things are happening all around you even if you don’t know what they are.

  Sherae turns onto the road that leads to the highway that leads to the suburban city and, eventually, the real city. This is The Road. The Road leads to Not Here. Which is the best place ever. It’s the road to freedom. It’s the road to a better life, to a place where dreams have a chance to become reality.

  The first thing we do at the mall is get ice-cream cones. Sherae gets strawberry dipped in chocolate. I get vanilla with rainbow sprinkles. Rainbow sprinkles make me happy.

  I’m relieved we’re here. I knew I should have gotten another box of tampons the last time we were here, but I couldn’t sneak away from Sherae long enough. I’d be mortified if she knew that mother didn’t get them for me. There’s no way I could admit how bad things are.

  It’s hard to be surrounded by everything shiny and new and not buy lots of things for myself. There’s so much I want. But I’ve been very strategic about saving ever since mother stole my money. When I get paid for babysitting, I divide the cash and hide it around my room so mother can’t find it. She doesn’t know that I babysit almost every weekend, so it’s not like she’s wondering where all my money is. I told her that I babysit like once a month and that I spend the money on school supplies.

  We sit by the fountain to eat our ice-cream cones.

  “So … what did Hector’s note say?” I ask.

  “Just that I can’t keep ignoring him forever and why won’t I talk to him.”

  “Why is he acting like he didn’t do anything?”

  “He said he doesn’t even know what he did. Just that I expected him to apologize for something.”

  “How can he not know?”

  Sherae licks her ice cream.

  I feel horrible that Sherae has to go through this. If I could switch places with her to take away her pain, I would. She doesn’t deserve any of this.

  I say, “But do you—”

  “I’m fine.” Sherae gets up and throws the rest of her ice cream out. She didn’t even eat the cone. Which I know is her favorite part.

  Hector used to take Sherae out for ice cream all the time. He only likes ice cream in the summer, but he’d take her anyway. It was obvious that Hector adored Sherae. Every time I saw them together, he was either holding her hand or he had his arm around her. Or he was kissing her and I was trying not to look. He gave her special gifts that boys wouldn’t normally think of, like the palm tree snow globe she loves. Or loved. She either put it away somewhere or got rid of it after they broke up. They had a pretty good relationship. But Sherae wasn’t ready for what Hector wanted. And once you cross that line, there’s no going back.

  Maybe Sherae is hiding from me just like I’m hiding from her. Maybe she thinks that if she keeps saying she’s okay, her emotions will believe her. Like how if you smile enough times you can trick your brain into thinking you’re happy.

  Next up is the drugstore. Sherae never needs anything here. She gets a lollipop with a long stem and a cute pink watermelon bobbing on top. We’re not splitting up, so I try to play off the whole getting tampons thing like mother just forgot to buy more. I hope I sound convincing without trying too hard.

  “Where to next?” Sherae says.

  “What about the pet store?” I always stop by the pet store when I’m here. They have such tiny, adorable puppies in the window. I love watching them, but I can only watch for a few minutes. They make me want to cry after that. If I had a pet, I would be constantly worrying that something horrible was about to happen to him. I wouldn’t be able to just enjoy the time we had together like a normal person. I’d be too worried about my inevitable breakdown after he was gone.

  On our way to the pet store, we pass a group of boys around our age. They all look at Sherae. None of them looks at me. Sherae pretends not to notice them looking. She doesn’t even make eye contact with boys anymore.

  I wish they would look at me. But why would they? I’m a walking freak show of oversized tee and destroyed sneakers and frizzy hair.

  “Let’s go to Forever 21,” I say.

  “What about the puppies?”

  “Later.” I want to see if they have any new tees I can afford. Forever 21 is good about prices. I have fifteen dollars left from the stash I allowed myself to take with me today. There has to be a cute top in there for fifteen dollars. One that actually fits for a change. I’m tired of never being noticed.

  “Can you let me out here?” I ask Sherae as she’s driving me home. There’s a random weekday garage sale a few blocks from my place that I must explore.

  Sherae knows the drill. I scavenge at garage sales for things to make my room look nicer. I found a purple scarf to drape over my ripped lampshade. I painted an old vase and put some fake daisies in it that my neighbor was throwing out. An old photo box holds my jewelry.

  There’s a bin of random fabric scraps. I find a pretty piece of turquoise silk. It looks like it will be the perfect size.

  “How much is this?” I ask an old man with an enormous gut sitting at a card table.

  “Two dollars.”

  When I get home, I clear my milk crate masquerading as a night table. I dust everything off. I shake out the turquoise silk and drape it with a flourish over the piece of wood that sits on the crate. It goes really well with the purple scarf on my lamp. Then I carefully arrange everything on top. It almost looks like I have a real night table now.

  Trying to make things look nice takes a lot of effort. But I will never stop trying.

  ten

  monday, april 25

  (39 days left)

  Good thing every day starts with announcements in homeroom. I’d hate to miss out on any pep rallies.

  The first announcement notifies us of the following vital information:

  “The Bulldogs are away tonight at Lakeview. Game starts at six. Let’s all go out and show our support!”

  Apparently, announcements are now in code. Because I have no idea who the Bulldogs are or what they’re playing.

  Then:

  “Yearbook order forms must be submitted to the main office by the end of the day. Don’t miss out on the memories!”

  Right. I wouldn’t want to forget any of those.

  Simon comes into physics all adult with his polished style and car keys and coffee cup. The car keys clank down on his desk. He takes the lid off his cup and blows on his coffee. I don’t think Simon sees school the same way we do. It’s more like he’s arrived at work, sipping his expensive coffee drink and looking out the window like it’s just anot
her day at the office.

  Simon glances around the room at the other kids coming in as if he’s about to conduct a business meeting. Then he comes over to me.

  “Hey, Noelle,” he says. “You look like you’re in the mood for some extra work.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “I’m intuitive like that. We just got a new stack of submissions that need to be edited by next Monday. Could you work fifth period every day this week?”

  Is he serious? If I could, I’d keep going to lit mag fifth period every day for the rest of the year.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Sweet. So I’ll see you later?”

  I nod. Simon Bruckner has totally saved me from cafeteria hell. Even with all the work I’m doing for lit mag, I still majorly owe him.

  I made out with Matt too long and now I’m late for Spanish. I knew I should have left fifteen minutes earlier, but it was impossible. My lips just did not want to leave his lips.

  Instead of going straight to Spanish after study hall, I had to go see Mr. Gilford. He needed to confirm that I don’t have a class fifth period. He gave me a special pass that says I’m allowed to be in the lit mag office fifth period and after school. Then he gave me a late pass for Spanish. Which is a small price to pay for being crazy with lust.

  Normally, I hate making entrances. Being late is a whole different thing when you’re me. When Pretty Perfect Popular girls come into class late, they’re fine with everyone looking at them. Why wouldn’t they be? They have perfect hair and perfect skin and perfect clothes. If I had any of those things, I’m sure I wouldn’t mind all those eyes on me. But today is different. Today I’m wearing my new top I got at the mall.

  As soon as I saw it on the rack, I knew we were meant to be together. The soft, clingy fabric. The soothing sky-blue color. The low cut that wasn’t low enough to get me sent to the principal’s office. I even had some bangles painted with sky-blue and violet flowers that Sherae gave me to go with it. And I’m wearing my jeans that actually fit.

  I hover outside Spanish. Mrs. Yuknis is saying how a bunch of people didn’t do their homework and so we can’t do the activity she had planned. Or something like that. My Spanish skills really are lacking.