Dare to Fall

by Estelle Maskame

  I’m surprised at how casually he talks about the fact that I’ve been avoiding him, looking down at the ground. But he’s right, we’re making progress. Or rather, I’m making progress.

  The past three nights have shown me that Jaden Hunter hasn’t changed at all from the Jaden Hunter I knew last year. And that’s both a relief and a terrifying realization at the exact same time, because the Jaden Hunter I knew last year was the Jaden Hunter I was falling for.

  10

  Lane twelve is set up and ready for us when we reach it. We’re sharing a booth with a group of young couples on lane eleven, though I’m pretty sure they’re all tipsy given the amount of loud laughter and off-balance bowling that’s going on. Back on our side of the booth, Terry is already over by the ball return machine, picking up different balls and testing them for weight, alternating between the two that he finally narrows it down to. There’s a competitive grin on his face as he practices swinging with his bowling arm, and Nancy rolls her eyes and gestures for Jaden and I to come closer, so we sit down either side of her on the couch.

  “Can we agree to let him win?” she whispers gently. “It’ll make his week!”

  Jaden and I exchange a glance, then snicker before we nod in agreement. His grandparents seem young at heart, and I don’t mind messing up a few turns to let Terry win. It’s just a game of bowling, after all, and Jaden’s up first. Shrugging off his jacket, he grabs the first ball that comes to hand and positions himself in front of our lane, looking rather ridiculous in his white and red bowling shoes. He’s definitely not pulling them off, but I decide not to point this out because I’m pretty sure he’s already aware of it. I’m not one to laugh, though. I look pretty ridiculous myself, still wearing my awful work pants and a hoodie. I can’t take it off, because the second I reveal my uniform beneath, customers will begin asking me to put up bumpers and fix stuck pins. And my eight hours of work here are done.

  Jaden swings his arm back and hurls the ball down the lane, though it heads straight for the gutter. Terry points at him, cackling with laughter. “Give me a second to get into it,” Jaden defends, flashing me a smirk. Dramatically, he rolls his neck from side to side until it cracks, and then he grits his teeth and grabs the ball again. He takes up position directly in front of the lane once more, hypes himself up for a few seconds, and then swiftly shoots the ball toward the pins. It careens left and only hits one.

  I’m not sure if Jaden is trying to miss on purpose or if he just genuinely sucks at bowling. I can’t remember if he’s good at it or not. We did go bowling together once, just the two of us, back in the spring of last year. It feels so long ago now that we were last here together, constantly laughing as we battled it out to be the winner, enjoying the competition against one another. I can’t remember which one of us won, because I was more focused on Jaden than I was on the scoreboard.

  As Terry passes him with a smug grin, ready to take his own shot, Jaden pats him on the back. He doesn’t seem to mind that he’s messed up his turn, and he walks back over to the couch and sits down by my side. Nancy looks over at us, smiles, and then gets up to join Terry, leaving the two of us alone at the booth.

  “Are you really that bad at bowling?” I ask Jaden.

  “No!” he says indignantly, and then he tries to hold back a smirk as he adds, “I usually hit three pins on average.” I pull a face and push his shoulder away from mine, laughing lightly. Jaden’s always been one for cracking jokes, and it is such a relief to see that his sense of humor hasn’t changed despite all that he has been through.

  “You came here just before six on purpose, didn’t you?” I ask him, nervous even though the answer feels obvious.

  “Maybe,” he says slowly as color rises to his cheeks. He drops his gaze to his hands in his lap just as Terry shatters all of his pins except one. “I thought I’d try my luck. You’re actually talking to me for once this week, so I figured I’d take advantage of it before you cut me off again.”

  “Jaden . . . ” I swallow, no longer smiling. Even though his tone is friendly, his words feel as though they have a hard edge to them, and it’s even worse because I know that everything he’s saying is the truth.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he says, holding up his palm to stop me from attempting to explain. He shoots me a tight smile. “I’m just glad you’re playing with us, otherwise I’d have been playing alone with those two.” He nods ahead to his grandparents, who are celebrating Terry’s spare with high fives to one another. Nancy’s up next, and Terry helps her find a ball of the right size and weight. I suddenly feel a pang of envy at their closeness, their ease around each other. I wonder if my parents will ever get back to that place.

  My eyes flicker back over to Jaden. He’s staring straight ahead, watching Nancy take her first shot with a glossy expression on his face, his eyes shining with amusement as Terry stands behind her, helping her with her swing. I take the opportunity to study Jaden as he sits by my side. His hair is styled with gel again, and although shaved short on the sides, the top is tousled to create a sort of messy look. I can see his face clearly. What I always found attractive about Jaden was not only his long, dark eyelashes against the sky blue of his eyes, but the small, tan birthmark on his neck, right below the left side of his jawline. He once told me he hated it, but I think it’s pretty cute.

  Jaden turns back to me and I can’t help but watch his full lips move as he says, “Kenz, you’re up.”

  I tear my gaze away from his lips and glance up at the screen above our heads. Nancy only hit four pins, and now my name is highlighted on the screen as all of the pins are reset, so I quickly jump to my feet and head over to the ball-return machine in a daze, fumbling to grab a ball. I don’t hang around searching for the ten-pound ball I like, and instead grab a six-pound ball that’s far too light for me and so small that my fingers almost get stuck inside it as I numbly throw it straight into the gutter. Did Jaden just call me Kenz? Did he?

  I love when people call me Kenz, but only a few do. My parents do, sometimes. Darren does, though I wish he’d stop. And Jaden used to, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he still does, but for some reason, it sounds foreign hearing his voice say it after so long. Foreign, but strangely intimate.

  Not even remotely focused, I toss my second ball down the lane and knock out a couple pins, and then I twirl around in the ugly bowling shoes that I just spent the past four hours staring at and make my way back to the booth, still asking myself if I heard Jaden right or not.

  Jaden takes his shot as quickly as he possibly can, and then joins me back at the booth as Terry and Nancy get up to take their own turns, the pair of them giddy and enjoying this way more than Jaden and I are.

  “So,” he says, hunching forward. He cracks his fingers—a bad habit of his—and then looks up at me again from beneath those dark eyelashes of his. “Did I ruin your plans for tonight?”

  “I didn’t have any,” I admit, shrugging. “And I like bowling, actually, so this isn’t too bad. Better than falling asleep in the back of Will’s Jeep, that’s for sure.”

  “Really?” He sounds unsure. “Because if this sucks and all you want to do is leave and go home, then you can. You don’t have to feel forced to stick around.”

  “I’m not leaving, Jaden,” I reassure him with a laugh. He looks relieved to hear this, and it calms me to see him relax. I tilt my head down and throw my hair forward, gathering it up into a high, loose ponytail that I secure with the hair tie on my wrist. Then, I get to my feet and step forward to the ball-return machine as Terry is finishing up his turn. This time I’m feeling competitive and I need the correct ball to do my turn justice. “Now where’s the ten-pounder?”

  “That’s more like it,” Jaden says, standing up to join me.

  We search through the balls already sitting in the machine, but they’re all either too light or too heavy, and I even study the group next to us to see which balls they’re using, but there isn’t a ten-pound ball to be found
. Most people don’t care and just grab whichever ball they find first, but after working here for over a year, I’ve become fussy about my selection. Jaden turns to check the rack behind us, which contains several rows of backups, and just as I spin around to help him look, he says, “Here it is.”

  The neon blue ten-pound bowling ball that I love so much is on the bottom row of the rack and I spring forward, bending down to reach for it at the exact same time as Jaden does. He grasps it in both hands a fraction of a second before I do, and so my hands end up on top of his. His hands are large, his skin warm, and my breath catches in my throat. I am paralyzed for a fleeting second, unable to take my hands away, my cheeks flushing with color. I still remember the way he held my hand in his on long, late summer-night drives to the middle of nowhere, massaging his thumb in soft circles against my skin. Finally, I remove my hands from his, though I don’t think I want to. I miss those times.

  Jaden’s eyes mirror mine and we both straighten back up, standing a little awkwardly in front of each other with only the bowling ball between us. Slowly and carefully, he places the ball into my hands. “There you go, Kenz,” he says quietly, his eyes never leaving mine.

  I can’t even say thank you. He did say Kenz. I lower my eyes and tighten my grip on the ball, holding it close against my body and carrying it back over to the couch just as Nancy finishes her turn. There may be four of us, but at the moment, it only seems Terry and Nancy are actually playing. Jaden and I aren’t even paying attention, but I’m up next, so I quickly shift my focus back to the game, congratulating Nancy on her great shot as I pass her. I don’t even know if she hit any pins or not.

  I take my turn, trying my hardest to give it my best shot because that’s what we’re here for, after all. I’m here to bowl and not to accidentally hold hands with Jaden. I line up, make a good run up to the lane, and then send the ten-pound ball whirling down the glossy floor. I hit eight pins, and then I knock out the final two for a spare. Now it’s on.

  After this, Jaden and I don’t talk about anything else other than the game, which I’m grateful for because it’s actually pretty fun hanging around him and his grandparents, all of us encouraging one another whenever we’re taking our turns. It feels so normal bowling with them, and the entire time I don’t even think about the fact that all three of them have suffered a tragic loss—because they’re not thinking about it. We’re sharing a laugh at Terry’s competitive nature, and we’re helping Nancy pick out a ball of the correct weight, and Jaden is making a fool of himself to entertain us by taking each of his turns using the most embarrassing technique ever, which involves an awkward run-up and throwing the ball into the air rather than along the ground. I’m just glad he’s doing it on purpose, and the entire time, I’m laughing and rolling my eyes at him. I forgot how carefree he was, so secure within himself that he really doesn’t care all that much about what others think of him. He’s confident enough to embarrass himself in public, surrounded by all these people, just to make us laugh. I forgot how much I liked that about him.

  By the end of the game, it’s only really between Terry and me. Nancy and Jaden fell behind a long time ago, and I’m up last to make the final shot of the game, which will determine who wins. I only need to hit five pins to beat Terry, but I know I’m not going to let that happen, because I want him to win. He’s standing behind me, hovering in anticipation as I line up. I’m not much of an actor, but I’m able to feign deep concentration as I prepare for my turn. I purposely send the ball flying to the right so that it’s enough to hit a couple pins, but not five. And then, with Terry growing even more worked up, I promptly throw my second ball straight into the gutter.

  “Yes!” Terry yells, throwing his fist into the air in celebration. Nancy shuffles over to squeeze his shoulder and she flashes me a gracious smile. The same goes for Jaden.

  Picking up his jacket from the couch, he slips it back on as he walks over to me with his full-blown crooked smile. “Thanks for messing up your turn like that,” he says quietly.

  “No problem,” I say. Above us, Terry’s name is flashing on the screen, and then a moment later, the screen resets itself with a new list of names for the next group of players.

  “Kenzie,” Terry says, calling me over with a beaming grin. Teasingly, he says, “Great player, but not great enough to beat me. How about you join us for dinner?”

  “What a great idea!” Nancy exclaims, and her face lights up. “We have barbecue ribs. Plenty of them! Enough for seconds each. What do you say?”

  Jaden steps forward to join me in the circle that’s formed, watching me carefully as he waits for my answer. “Yeah, Kenzie. Would you like to join us? I’m not being biased, but Grandma’s barbecue ribs are something you just don’t turn down.”

  The three of them are looking at me with hopeful smiles and my cheeks heat up with the pressure. “Thank you, but I can’t,” I murmur, and Jaden’s face is the quickest to fall. “I mean, I can’t come for dinner, because my mom’s already made dinner for us. But I can come over later if that’s still okay?”

  Within a heartbeat, Jaden’s smile is back, though now it’s a wide, dazzling grin. He throws his grandparents a quick glance, searching for agreement. “That’s okay, right?”

  “Of course!” Nancy says, and the next group of players arrive before we have the chance to say anything more.

  So far, my Saturday evening has—surprisingly—turned out alright, and now I’ve agreed to hang out over at Jaden’s grandparents’ house later, not because I felt inclined to take up the offer, but because I actually want to. All this time, I’ve been avoiding Jaden in fear of him acting differently, too overcome with grief to function as he used to, but he hasn’t changed at all, not even one bit.

  “Don’t forget, we’re on Ponderosa Drive,” Jaden reminds me as we’re walking out into the cool September air of the parking lot. It’s only just gone 7PM, but the sun is slowly dipping behind the Rockies, creating streaks of orange and pink that light up the sky. Jaden’s grandparents walk a few feet in front of us, hand in hand. I spot their black Toyota Corolla just ahead. “Do you remember which house?”

  “The one with the boat.”

  Jaden smiles, giving me a small nod. “The one with the boat,” he says.

  His gaze drifts off into the distance and I wonder if he remembers that night in August out on the lake. I had my hopes up back then. I was hanging out with his parents, joining in on their family outings, and I felt like finally, finally Jaden and I were becoming serious. It was only a matter of time before we made it official, transitioning from sort-of-dating to Actually Together. Unfortunately, that never ended up happening. Two weeks later our priorities had changed. Jaden needed time and I needed distance.

  He comes to a momentary pause and turns to face me directly. Mom’s car is to my left and I reach into the front pocket of my hoodie to grab the keys as Jaden confirms, “So, see you later?”

  “I’ll be over in an hour,” I tell him, and the words sound odd as they roll off my tongue. I haven’t told Jaden that in a while. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

  He shakes his head and laughs to himself.

  “Errrm. What?”

  “I’m just surprised you still have my number.” He looks nothing less than elated as he turns to leave. “See you soon, Kenz.”

  11

  Mom’s sober when I get back to the house, which is a relief, though she’s not impressed that I’m home an hour later than expected. Both her and Dad have already eaten the mac ’n’ cheese she’s actually made for once, but there’s a plate left for me to heat up in the microwave, which I eat as Mom washes dishes in the sink, her back to me.

  “I’m going out again,” I tell her after I’ve filled her in on how my shift went, claiming that Lynsey asked me to stay back an hour. I don’t want to tell her I went bowling with Jaden and his grandparents. She’ll ask too many questions.

  There’s the squeaking of a wine glass as Mom cleans it thoro
ughly. “With Holden and Will?”

  “No,” I say. There’s a small amount of pasta on my plate that I’ve given up on finishing, so I move it around anxiously with my fork, staring at the plate rather than at Mom. “I’m going over to see Jaden.”

  There’s a pause. Mom sets the wine glass down on the drying rack and turns around, the soapy water dripping from her hands and onto the floor. “Hunter?” I nod and she reaches for a towel to dry her hands on as she studies me for a moment with confusion written across her face. “I didn’t know you were talking to him again.”

  “Me either,” I say with a forced, awkward laugh. My chair screeches against the floor as I stand up, picking up my plate and bringing it over to Mom. I stop just in front of her, shrugging. “I don’t really know what’s going on right now, but I figure there’s no harm in finding out.”

  “Hmm,” she says, taking the plate from me and turning back around again to scrape the leftovers into the trash can under the sink. Her hair is clipped back, but loose strands frame her face. There’s no sign of makeup tonight. “He was a nice boy,” she muses. “I always liked him better than Darren anyway.”

  “Who’s a nice boy?” Dad cuts in, approaching from behind as he enters the kitchen. He opens up the refrigerator and scours its contents for a moment, before finally grabbing a can of Coke and cracking open the tab. He crosses his arms across his chest, staring at me with a teasing expression.

  Dad’s always been pretty laid back when it comes to guys. When I was thirteen, I had my first kiss with Ethan Bennett—who now sits behind me in AP Statistics, chewing gum way too loudly—in the parking lot after school when both our parents were late to pick us up. When Mom did finally collect me, I told her exactly what had just happened, confiding in her about such a crucial and, at the time, life-changing event. Six months pregnant and highly hormonal, Mom got so happy that tears broke free and she rushed home to tell Dad. I felt humiliated and terrified back then at the fragile age of thirteen, half expecting Dad to yell at me before he hunted Ethan down, so I ran upstairs in tears and hid under my comforter. A minute later, Dad knocked on the door and sat down on the edge of my bed.