Just Friends

  “Omar—a”

  “No, I gotta say this. She’s changed you, and I don’t think it’s into something better. Just think about it. Since you started dating her, you’ve spent more time alone, started skipping school, sneaking out, fighting with Drew and Holly—not to mention Lance—and who knows what else.” He paced away from me, his voice going hoarse. “I used to see you as the guy who had everything together. Now I see you’re just as messed up as me. Worse, even.”

  I carefully set my glass in Holly’s sink and turned to refute what Omar said. I find I can’t. He’s right, but as I watched him walk out the front door, I thought that maybe I didn’t care. Maybe I didn’t like who I was before. Maybe I didn’t have to be the guy who had everything together. Maybe that guy was boring and needed his best friend to tell him how to do the simplest of tasks.

  Livid was the best word to describe Mom’s mood, especially when I kicked off my expensive running shoes and didn’t put them in the closet when she growled.

  “I’m going to shower,” I muttered, but she blocked my exit from the kitchen.

  “You are not, young man,” she said. “You’re going to stay here and explain to me why you skipped all your classes, sent Holly into a panic, and then show up here in your running clothes.”

  “I just needed a day off,” I said. I was taller than her by a good ten inches, but I felt like cowering when I looked into her eyes.

  “Mitch,” she said in the tone of voice that said I better tell her everything, and fast.

  “Mom, I don’t want to talk about it.” I couldn’t tell her about the great Make-Out Debacle, or about the consistent sneaking over to Jade’s, or about seeing Holly kiss Lance. Couldn’t admit that I wasn’t sure college was for me. Couldn’t explain that something so seemingly small as seeing my picture in a collection of art titled “Friends” had pushed me over the edge. I realized now that I’d been carrying a boulder for weeks, and the tiniest pebble had tipped me.

  “Drew said you were fine before school.”

  “I was,” I said. “I just couldn’t go.”

  “Charity’s called five times.”

  “I’ll call her after I get out of the shower.”

  “Holly came over here in a panic. She said you were crying.” She peered into my face, and I deliberately didn’t look into hers.

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  “I don’t think you are, Mitch.”

  My shoulders slumped as I exhaled. “Please, Mom, can we not talk everything to death?”

  “Is it Jade? Has something happened with her?”

  “Nothing’s happened.” That was the honest truth, despite the many times I’d snuck over to her house in the middle of the night.

  “Dad said he talked to you about Drew.”

  “He did.”

  “Then what—”

  “Mom, please.”

  She threw her hands up. “Fine. Go shower.”

  “Thank you,” I said as I slipped past her.

  After showering, I barricaded myself in my bedroom and flipped Holly’s phone over and over. She’d said there was nothing on it, but I wasn’t sure I believed her. I finally turned it on and checked the Post-It note app. Nothing.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. She had new texts, and I saw they were from me. Or from my phone. Holly had sent them.

  First, I’m sorry.

  For the kiss.

  For whatever your mom will do.

  I’m going to read your note now.

  My heart squeezed as I thought about what I’d written to her. I couldn’t remember all of it, but I knew I’d said something about how it sucked that she couldn’t be friends with me while she had a boyfriend. And that I hadn’t been able to talk to her about Jade, or plan Homecoming, or tell her about the thirteen I’d earned on my history essay.

  I’d told her about all the college applications on my desk, and what Mr. Roskelley had said about career schools, and that I hated that I hadn’t been able to talk to her about those things.

  I’d said that while Charity was a good singer, she wasn’t who I wanted for my partner.

  I told her everything about Drew, and how it made me feel—at least what I could find the words to explain.

  I’d told her everything about the news reporters and track recruiters, and how confused I was about what I wanted to do with my life after we graduated.

  I knew it was brain vomit, but if anyone would be able to make sense of the mess of my life, Holly would.

  Her texts had come a half an hour ago, and nothing since. I didn’t know if she’d read it all yet, and just needed time to digest, or what.

  I had nothing to pass the time as I’d left my backpack at school and my parents didn’t allow me to have a TV or computer in my room. I lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, holding Holly’s phone and waiting for her to text.

  I put on a pair of sweats, didn’t turn on the lights, and ignored whoever knocked on my door at ten o’clock. When I couldn’t stand the confining walls of my bedroom anymore, I climbed onto the roof.

  November had claimed the weather and a fierce wind blew the hair out of my eyes. I looked next door, and found Holly perched on her roof too.

  “Can I come over?” I asked. I’d never had to ask before.

  She slid over so I’d have room to make the leap. When I settled next to her, I saw that she had my phone clenched in her fist.

  I nodded toward the phone. “Did you read it?”

  She nodded, her body folded into itself as if she were cold and her eyes trained on the street.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “Well,” she said. “I find Omar’s interests disgusting, but he really likes Drew. That girl needs a watchdog, so I’d keep hounding her.”

  I laughed, and it felt so good.

  “Congrats on your thirteen,” she said. “I still haven’t received a fifteen.”

  “Yet,” I said. “The year is still young.”

  “You know I suck at writing, right?” She nudged me with her shoulder. “My scores have gotten worse and worse. You were actually helping me, not the other way around.”

  She handed me my phone. “Charity is a great partner,” she said. “I don’t even like show choir.”

  “You loved it last year,” I said, thinking that everything about my life had morphed. When Holly and I were best friends, everything worked. Track. Show choir. Homework. Without her, cracks had webbed into all my activities, making them completely suck. “You made me try out.”

  “Yeah, but sometimes you don’t know if you like something until you try it.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “I didn’t really like show choir, so I probably wouldn’t have tried out this year anyway.”

  “And Greg Matthews had nothing to do with that?”

  “No, he had nothing to do with that.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. There were still college applications and trade school brochures to discuss. The kiss. Jade. Lance.

  “So is that why you kissed Lance?” I asked. “Wanted to see what that’s like?”

  She bristled for half a second before bursting into laughter. I pictured his arm around her in the van, and the way she’d cuddled up to him in the hall. I didn’t see what was so funny.

  I waited for her to finish laughing before asking, “That bad, huh? I knew that guy isn’t as great as he thinks he is.”

  She nudged me with her shoulder again. “He’s not that bad. He just wants someone to love him.” She got a far-off look in her eye. “I know how he feels.”

  “And do you?” I asked. “Love him?”

  She laughed again, but this time it felt forced. “It’s not what you think it is, Mitch.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Holly half-glared, half-smiled at me. “If I was asking you all these questions about Jade, you’d get pissed and storm through your window.”

  “Whatever, I—”

  “Ran away when I tried asking you about her on
Homecoming.”

  “That was different. That was you making fun of me. I couldn’t stand to hear you say molasses one more time. This, this is me genuinely wanting to know if you and Lance are for real. Because, Holly, he’s not for real with any girl. Trust me, I’ve heard about every one of them.” I balled my fists. “And I don’t want him talking about you like that.”

  Her eyes had widened with every word. She looked at me like she couldn’t figure me out.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, returning her gaze to the storm clouds. Holly didn’t say anything else. After a few minutes I squeezed her shoulder and stepped back to my own roof.

  I climbed in my window and slid it almost all the way closed. I left about an inch of space so the breeze could waft in, and more importantly, so I would know when Holly went inside her house.

  I heard her whisper to the sky, “Star bright, star bright, first star I see tonight, wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”

  A pause. I held my breath.

  “I wish Mitch wasn’t dating Jade.”

  27

  I met Charity the next morning before school, after a silent ride alone. Drew had been riding with Omar for a while, and as much as I hated to admit it, I missed having her in the car. Rather, I missed having someone to ride to school with, especially at 6:45 in the morning. Last year, Holly—

  I cut off the thought, because she hadn’t ridden with me even before show choir started. Greg picked her up. Everything I used to do with Holly now sucked.

  Charity paced in the choir room, wringing her hands and muttering lyrics under her breath.

  I started out with an apology. She waved it away and dove right into a warm up. By the time the bell rang, we’d rehearsed A Little Fall of Rain six times, and I’d listened to Charity freak out for twenty minutes.

  Our audition was after school, and I assured her that I wouldn’t be leaving today and that everything would be fine.

  I didn’t see Lance or Holly before school, because I’d left my backpack in my gym locker. By the time I’d retrieved it, gone to my locker to switch books, and made it to AP history, I had another pink slip for being in the hall after the bell, and my history essay for the week was two days late.

  Holly didn’t look up as I passed her to get to my seat, but her phone was waiting on my desk. Because Mr. Thompson had already started the lecture, I couldn’t turn in my essay or check the phone. Instead, I pulled out my notebook and poured my attention into taking notes. It was the only distraction method that wouldn’t get me in trouble.

  After class, Mr. Thompson glared at me as I clutched my essay in my hands. “I was sick yesterday,” I said. Not entirely true, at least not in the physical sense. But no one could argue that I was messed up mentally. Mom had refused to call and excuse me for yesterday’s absence, a little argument we’d had this morning over Pop-Tarts.

  “Fine,” he said, brandishing his hand so I could turn in my essay. “But you’re starting at minus one point instead of zero.”

  “Okay,” I said, though I thought that was totally stupid. I didn’t care about history, and the thought that there would be no essays to write in a trade school for cabinetry or car repair crossed my mind.

  Because of my mini-argument with Mr. Thompson over my essay I didn’t have time to check Holly’s phone before shop. Lance was waiting at the door anyway, and I shoved her phone deeper into my pocket as if he didn’t know I’d have it.

  “Hey,” he said.

  I grunted in response and tried to go around him. He stepped directly in the doorway so I couldn’t pass.

  “Do you mind?” I asked. “I’m already having a crappy day.”

  “Look, man,” he said, exhaling. “I’m sorry about Holly.”

  I couldn’t believe Lance Higbee was apologizing. He never did, because everyone knew who he was and what he did. No apology necessary when he acted exactly the way he said he would. Besides, I was the one who needed to apologize for my comments at the press conference.

  “It’s my fault,” I said. “I was way out of line at the press conference.” Shame forced it’s way up my throat. Was I going to cry? In front of Lance?

  I met his eye. He blinked. “I’m sorry about what I said there too. At least the papers thought it was harmless banter.”

  I held up my fist for him to bump. He did, and thankfully, my heart settled back into my chest.

  “You talk to Holly yet?” he asked.

  “A little,” I hedged. We stared at each other, each of us not quite sure what to say.

  “You don’t own her, you know,” he said.

  “I never said I did.”

  “You act like you do.” Lance finally moved as the bell rang.

  I followed him to his seat. “I watch out for her.”

  “She doesn’t want you to be her father.”

  I slammed my backpack on the counter. “I know that! Freak, why does everyone keep telling me I’m not their father?” I didn’t care that I was yelling. “Is it so wrong of me to want to watch out for her?”

  Lance shook his head, clearing the hair from his eyes. “She told me about Homecoming.” His voice was ultra-low, and the five other guys in the room leaned toward us to try to hear him.

  The bottom fell out of my stomach. My heart started beating real fast. “She told you what about Homecoming?” I was barely breathing, so the words sounded like a gasp. The late bell rang, covering most of them anyway, so I was sure no one else heard.

  “To the shop!” Mr. Roskelley boomed. “Projects due before Christmas and you sorry lot will barely finish on time as it is.”

  Lance broke eye contact with me and put on his work gloves. He walked away without telling me what he knew about Homecoming.

  I skipped lunch, knowing I’d regret it once show choir tryouts hit. But I needed time to read Holly’s messages, and I wanted to be alone to do it. After shop, I practically raced to the parking lot and turned on the car so it would start to heat up.

  Then I pulled out Holly’s phone. The Post-It note she had started weeks ago that began Mitch we need to talk about had been revised. It no longer discussed whether the unicorn was superior because of its single horn.

  It now said: Mitch we need to talk about us. I think I’m falling for you in a way that’s more than friendly, and I’m so scared it’ll ruin everything.

  I just stared at the words, re-reading them again and again. I couldn’t believe this was what she’d wanted to type back in September. I tried to imagine how I would’ve responded if she’d done it. I’d had it bad for Jade since last May. Would I have stuffed that away to experiment with Holly? Or would I have told her I didn’t want to ruin everything between us to see if she could be my girlfriend?

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said to myself. “Everything is still ruined.” I typed exactly what I’d said into the message and saved it. I wanted to give her a multiple choice list, as she hadn’t done that for the first time, but this conversation was outside the realm of our normal notes.

  I then typed: What now? I’m dating Jade, and you seem to be dating Lance, and I don’t know what to do about any of this.

  That was it. No other notes from her, no advice, no explanation about her and Lance. I checked her text threads, but there were only two. One between her and her mom, and one between her and Lance. I remembered Jade saying Holly had texted her, but it had been erased.

  Lance’s first text asked Holly how she was doing, and their conversation felt superficial. It certainly didn’t reveal anything I didn’t already know, so I spent the rest of my lunch period staring out the windshield, wondering why I hadn’t seen Holly properly until Homecoming, and wondering if I liked her too.

  After lunch, I steeled myself to see Jade. I’d stopped by her house—half-naked—and said a lot of weird things to her mom. Then I’d ignored her texts for twenty-four straight hours.

  But now, I squared my shoulders, entered my English lit classroom,
and went to sit behind her. It felt awkward, the way it had at the beginning of the term when I barely knew her and wanted to get to know her better.

  “So your audition is today, right?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t return any of your texts,” I said. “I had a rough day yesterday.”

  She looked at me, her deep eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite name. “I heard,” she said.

  “My audition is at 3:10,” I said. “I should be home by 3:30, maybe we could hang out. Will your mom be home?”

  “She told me what you said,” she said, and I loved how we were having three different conversations at once. Maybe things weren’t so awkward between us. “I wish you would talk to me instead of me having to hear everything from someone else.”

  I nodded, finding it hard to swallow. “I know. Yesterday was not my best moment.” I remembered Mrs. Montgomery’s shocked expression as she’d taken in my half-naked body standing on her front porch.

  Jade cracked a smile. “Maybe not. But my mom said I could go over to your house—if your parents are home.”

  I smiled too. “Great. Maybe I can stop by and pick you up on my way home, after the audition.”

  “I have a better idea,” she said. “I drove my car today. How about we go for a drive? Then I’ll come to your house after. My mom will never know.”

  “So I’ll go home, and you’ll pick me up, and then we’ll come back?”

  “Something like that.” Jade’s lips kicked up in a half smile and she turned around.

  I waited by Lance’s gym locker until he showed up. He was fifteen minutes late and seemed to be wearing lip gloss. We still had track fourth hour until the semester break in January, but Coach wasn’t worried about us. He was working in the gym with the sprinters and hurdlers.

  “Tell me what you know about Homecoming,” I said as a way of greeting.

  Instead of firing back with his usual banter, Lance flopped onto the bench and wiped his mouth. “Holly told me she kissed you.”

  My chest didn’t seem big enough to contain my beating heart. “And?”