Dare to Fall

by Estelle Maskame

  Frustrated by how oblivious she is, I grab all eight glasses and carefully carry them over to the table, but not without muttering, “I think it’s getting a little too comfortable,” under my breath.

  Of course, Mom hears me. “What was that?”

  “Nothing.” Giving up, I set the glasses in place and then leave the kitchen. I love Mom to death, but trying to get through to her is nearly impossible. Dad tried at first, but he gave up a long time ago, and I can’t bring myself to blatantly ignore it the same way he does.

  As I make my way down the hall, I smile at Grace’s frame, and then keep walking to the front door. I can hear the sound of the lawnmower growling and vibrating outside, so I pull open the door and step out onto the porch, barefoot. Dad’s tracing a pattern around the lawn with our rusty old mower as he wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead. It’s warm enough outside today, so I stand and watch Dad for a few minutes until he finally notices me, but only once he’s done and once he’s switched the machine off.

  “So you’re finally awake!” he calls across the lawn.

  Shrugging innocently, I smile and then joke, “Last-minute maintenance before Grandma gets here?”

  “Exactly,” Dad says, laughing as he begins to drag the mower around to the back yard. Just before he disappears around the side of the house, he adds, “We don’t want her to call us trashy for having an overgrown lawn again!”

  I roll my eyes and am just about to head back inside when I hear the sound of a car turning into our cul-de-sac. Stepping out further onto the porch, I spot my uncle Matt’s old Corvette approaching. It makes a hell of a sound, and even though it’s at least three decades old, he loves the damn thing. He pulls up and parks behind Mom’s Prius, then pushes open his door and steps out, waving over to me.

  “Hey, Uncle Matt,” I say as he crosses the freshly cut lawn, locking his car behind him. It’s not often that we see him in a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt I always find it strange whenever I see Matt wearing anything other than his uniform. He’s much less intimidating when there isn’t a gun and handcuffs strapped around his waist.

  “What’s up? I thought I’d come by early and catch the end of the Panthers game,” he says once he reaches me. He’s Dad’s youngest brother, and unlike Dad, he still has his hair. He runs a hand through it and smiles as he dramatically inhales. “Mmm. Smells good.”

  I follow him back inside the house, closing the front door behind us, and we make our way toward the kitchen. We walk in at the same time as Dad walks in through the back door, so I’m mostly ignored for a few minutes as the adults talk between themselves. I linger at the door until Dad excuses himself to go shower before everyone else arrives and Mom returns to organizing the food.

  “C’mon then, Kenzie, let’s get this game on,” Matt says, walking over and throwing his arm around me. We head into the living room, and I sit down on the couch, pulling my legs up to get comfy, as he stands in front of the TV and gets up the second half of the Panthers game. They’re winning against the 49ers, and Matt fist pumps the air. “Hell yeah!”

  He walks backward, his eyes locked on the TV screen, and sits down on the couch next to me. I really like Matt, mostly because he’s only nine years older than me and easy to joke around with. We get along well, and even though I couldn’t care less about the Panthers game, I don’t mind chilling out and watching it with him while he offers a running commentary. I listen to him for about five minutes before I tune out and my mind drifts to Jaden.

  I had a great time last night with him, but now I find myself wondering just exactly how many good times we may have missed out on over the past year. If I had just been stronger, if I had just been braver, then I wouldn’t have distanced myself for so long. I wouldn’t have thrown away so many opportunities, but I did. All I know right now is that I do like being around him, and now that I’m aware of this, I want to be around him. Nothing may ever come of it. We might just be friends, but right now, I have nothing to lose. I’m curious about the possibilities.

  I look over at Matt for a few minutes as I wait for a commercial break, and as soon as one begins, I swallow and say, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” Matt says, quickly glancing sideways at me with a flash of worry and then back to the TV. “What is it?”

  “Do you remember the Hunters?” I ask quietly. “That accident last summer?”

  Matt glances back at me, but this time his gaze remains locked on mine. He’s quiet for a moment as he attempts to read my expression, confused by my question, before he finally answers, “Sure I do. Trust me, there ain’t no forgetting that. The car didn’t even look like a car anymore. Why?”

  “Just wondering,” I mumble, then glance down at my hands in my lap as I add, “I’m hanging around with their kids again.”

  “Really?” Matt sounds surprised. “How are they doing? God, what were their names again?”

  “Jaden and Danielle,” I tell him, looking back up. I don’t know why I feel awkward discussing them, but all I can picture in my head right now is the car that didn’t even look like a car anymore and it makes me feel a little nauseous. “Jaden’s doing great, actually. But Danielle . . . I mean, she’s getting there.”

  “Man, poor kids.” Matt shakes his head and exhales loudly, looking past me at nothing in particular as though he’s reflecting back on that fateful night last August. “That accident totally had me fucked up for a couple days afterward,” he admits. “Like, if they’d just left their office a minute later, or if they’d just taken a different route home, then they would have missed whatever the hell ran out in front of them. Sad, really, the way that the right timing can make things so wrong, ain’t it?”

  As the game resumes and Matt turns his attention back to the TV, I think about his words over and over again in my head. It’s a terrifying thought that so many tiny things had to perfectly align in order for that accident to even happen in the first place, and if one of those things had been different, then the outcome may have been different too. But I quickly realize that it works both ways.

  Bumping into Jaden at 7-Eleven while posing as my mom was most definitely the wrong timing, yet we both ended up at that register at the exact same moment, and talking to him that night seemed to kick-start something between us again. The right timing can make things go wrong, but the wrong timing can also make things go so right.

  I focus back on the game, listening to Matt’s commentary again as he groans and cheers, though it’s a struggle to actually concentrate. In between his “aw c’mon!”s and “hell yeah!”s, all I can think about is Jaden. Jaden Hunter. Even just saying his name in my head is enough to give me goosebumps.

  “Kenzie,” Dad says, peering around the living room door after ten minutes. He has just gotten out of the shower and changed into a nice dress shirt, and the rest of the family should be turning up any second now, which explains why he looks anxious. “Can you help me out with the food?”

  Matt is so engrossed in the game on TV that he doesn’t even pay attention to me as I get up and walk over to join Dad in the hall. He looks as though he is about to break out into a sweat any second. “Where’s Mom?” I ask. Dad never cooks. He sucks at it, so I’m concerned that he is asking me to help him out.

  Dad gives me a tight, apologetic smile and squeezes my shoulder, guiding me to the kitchen. Mom isn’t here anymore. “She’s just . . . just getting some fresh air,” he says.

  I knew it. I knew Mom was already tipsy, I knew she’d already been drinking today. She does this all the time, and it’s getting embarrassing now. I shake my head at the ground in anger, and then I glance out of the window above the sink. Mom is sitting outside in the yard on her own, huddled over our old wooden table with both her hands pressed to her forehead. In front of her, there is a glass of water. It pains me to admit it, but she looks pathetic out there. I wish I could just shake her. I wish she could just look at herself and see what the rest of us see.

  “Your mom migh
t need to go and lie down for a few hours, so looks like it’s you and me doing the dinner!” Dad says to me with false cheer, snapping some kitchen tongs in my direction. I turn away from the window and join him by the oven, and I grind my teeth together while I pretend that I haven’t noticed the empty bottle of wine that’s peeking out from the trash can.

  14

  By Thursday afternoon, I’m struggling to stay awake and focused in AP Lit. I’ve been working eight-hour shifts every night this week in exchange for getting both Friday and Saturday off for homecoming, and the late-night finishes are beginning to take their toll on me. Mr. Anderson has been discussing our answers to the questions on our summer reading assignment, and I’ve pretty much been snoozing during the majority of it. The only thing that’s keeping me sane today is that I have an off period next, which means I have an extra hour to spare before my shift at 4PM.

  My head is resting on my crossed arms on the table, my eyes are half shut, and I’m wondering how I’ve lasted in this position for so long without being yelled at. It’s probably because I’m at the back, hidden behind other students, completely out of view. Just as I begin to yawn, the bell rings out and startles me. Voices rise and chairs scuff against the carpet as everyone races to the door. It’s Spirit Week, the week leading up to homecoming weekend and the only week of the year where being at school isn’t hell on earth. Each day is filled with activities to get us all hyped up for the game tomorrow night. And generally, everyone is pretty hyped up and excited, but I’m too exhausted to be one of them.

  I don’t have a class to rush to next, so I pack up my stuff slowly and keep my head down as I pass Mr. Anderson. He doesn’t say anything as I leave, so I breathe a sigh of relief as soon as I’m in the hallway. It’s loud and packed as everyone switches classes, the hallways nothing more than a sea of colors for today’s Spirit Week theme, and I swiftly weave my way through the crowd as I make my way to my locker. En route, I spot Holden and Will approaching from the opposite direction. There’s no room to stop and chat without being knocked to the ground during passing period, so I quickly throw my hand up and wave over to them instead. Only Will waves back as he sticks his tongue out at me. Holden has his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground, but he does glance up for a split second and gives me a small smile.

  It feels like I haven’t seen them in forever, because it’s only here at school during lunch that I’ve been able to catch up with them this week. I miss hanging out with them, so I’m excited for the game tomorrow night and the dance on Saturday. I still haven’t told them the full details about my night with Jaden on Saturday, other than that it went well. Until I know just what exactly is going on between Jaden and me, I’m going to continue keeping it on the down-low.

  My steps are slow as I continue to head for my locker, and even though I try my best to stay as close to the wall as possible, everyone barges into me anyway. The rush dies down after thirty seconds or so as they begin to split up into their classes, and by the time I finally reach my locker, there’s only me and a few remaining stragglers left. The hallways are almost silent again apart from a guy cussing to himself as he runs past me, late for class, but I ignore him and pull open my locker. Casually, I begin switching textbooks around and stuffing the ones I need to take home with me into my bag.

  Suddenly, someone presses their hand against the metal locker next to mine, and I instantly jump. I don’t even have to look to know that it’s Jaden. I haven’t seen him too much this week besides the occasional exchange of smiles as we pass each other in the hallways, which is always exciting every time it happens, given that a week ago I never did smile back. Other than that, I haven’t had much of a chance to actually talk to him, so I’m thrilled to have him standing in front of me now.

  “Hey you,” he says, grinning widely, eyes smoldering. I can tell he’s in a good mood by the expression on his face, and although he’s wearing black jeans as usual, he’s also sporting a bright orange hoodie in support of the senior color. “I figured I’d catch you here.”

  So he came looking for me? After last weekend, this is a good sign. I feel giddy, but I try to play it cool. “Yeah, I have an off period,” I tell him as I step back and shut my locker, swinging the strap of my bag back over my shoulder. I don’t own a single piece of clothing that’s orange, so I’m not as committed to today’s theme as he is. “Do you?”

  “Nope,” he says, popping his lips on the “p”. He leans his shoulder against the lockers and then he shrugs. “I have calculus, actually. None of my teachers want to yell at me if I’m late. It used to piss me off, but then I just decided to start taking advantage of it, like taking a quick detour past your locker just in case you’re here.” Sheepishly, he glances down at the ground. “Luckily, you usually are.”

  Until now, I always believed it was just a coincidence that Jaden and I ended up passing each other every time I was at my locker after AP Lit. Apparently, it’s not as random as I thought it was, and there’s something endearing to me about the thought of Jaden walking past my locker to see me, even when I kept my head down and couldn’t bring myself to smile back. His honesty has me smiling from ear to ear as my cheeks heat up. I’m blushing, I know it, but at this point, I don’t care if Jaden notices or not.

  “Yep, always here!” I joke, then nod to his attire, still smiling. “Nice hoodie. Ready for the game tomorrow?”

  “Don’t lie,” Jaden says, shaking his head in disagreement as he glances down at the bright orange fabric. He rolls his eyes and tugs at the drawstrings. “It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever worn, but you gotta do what you gotta do, right?” He straightens up again and pretends to brush dirt off his shoulders, and I laugh, forgetting that although Jaden is incredibly attractive, he’s also extremely playful and a little goofy at times. “I’m as ready as can be! Greeley West’s offense better watch out. Are you coming?”

  “To the homecoming game?” I repeat blankly. “No, I think I’ll pass.” As I shrug my shoulders, Jaden’s smile begins to falter, but before it disappears entirely, I quickly drop the act and laugh loudly, rolling my eyes at him. “Of course I’m coming!”

  “You had me there,” he admits, chuckling. Mindlessly, he brushes his thumb over his birthmark as he checks the time on his phone. I watch him, slightly mesmerized. “I should get to class,” he says, frowning. I’m enjoying our quick exchange, so I really wish he didn’t have a class right now, but unfortunately, calculus is calling his name. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “I’ll be in the stands,” I tell him with a small, awkward wave. God, I think. I’ve never gotten nervous around guys before. Hell, I didn’t even get nervous around Jaden a year ago, but for some reason, I’m awkward and embarrassed around him now.

  Jaden turns to head off to his class, then smirks over his shoulder and quips back, “I’ll be looking for you.” He gives me a small wink and pressure builds in my chest as I watch him walk away. I don’t want him to leave.

  We’re the only two people in the hallway now, and with my hand on the strap of my bag, I enjoy watching Jaden wander down the corridor. Just as I’m noticing how perfectly broad his shoulders really are, he pauses and swivels back around to face me. That crooked smile that I can’t get enough of appears, and, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he calls, “Win or lose, will you wait up for me after the game?”

  I part my lips to answer him, but no words seem to find their way to my mouth. Instead, I smile at him and nod. Of course I’ll wait for him after the game. I have to wait for Holden anyway, but even if I didn’t, I’d still wait.

  Satisfied, Jaden nods back and then turns again. I watch him for a few more seconds until he rounds the corner and disappears out of sight completely, leaving me desperate for tomorrow night to arrive.

  Sighing, I decide not to hang around any longer, so I turn in the opposite direction, ready for the dreaded walk home while my shoulder bears the weight of my bag. Walking past the front office toward the main doors,
I notice a familiar face up ahead, turning into the library. It’s Dani, who has pretty much blanked me the entire week during Spanish class, despite saying hey to her several times. She is always quiet and reserved, but that’s not going to stop me from continuing to make an effort with her. I know she’s skipping the homecoming dance on Saturday, but that doesn’t mean she has to skip the game tomorrow night. I want her to go to the game. I want her to have fun. I want her to get involved. I want her to hang out with me again.

  Speeding up, I make for the library door and enter after her. The library is silent with only a few juniors and seniors scattered around, some at the computers, some at the desks, one searching the shelves. I spot Dani settling down at a table in the center of the room, opening up a book and hunching herself over it.

  Mrs. Bolan, our librarian, smiles to greet me as I pass her desk. I don’t use the library at all, so I doubt she even knows who I am. Nonetheless, I smile back and keep on walking toward Dani. She doesn’t seem to notice me approach, because she doesn’t look up from her book. Either that, or she just pretends not to.

  “Hey,” I whisper as I slide into the chair next to her. I reach into my bag and grab the first book that comes to hand—my Physics textbook—and set it down on the table in front of me, opening it to a random page so that it looks like I came here for a purpose other than cornering her.

  Dani glances sideways at me, exhales deeply, then looks back down at her book and continues reading. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to, because hostility is radiating from her. She is impossible to figure out. She says she is sick of no one treating her the way they used to, but when we do, she seems to assume our efforts are fake or out of pity. They’re not. I care about her.

  Feeling awkward, I stare blankly down at my own book, pretending to read a few pages for a couple of minutes in the silence that surrounds us. I spend the time mentally hyping myself up before I attempt to talk to Dani again. She makes it extremely difficult, and this uncomfortable tension is exactly what I was afraid of. I’m trying my best to break through it, but it’s a hell of a challenge. “Are you going to the game tomorrow?”