I can feel the blood draining from my face. “My independent study is tied to an internship,” I say.
“I’m sorry to say that you’re going to need to replace your internship with another class. There are openings in driver’s ed and hospitality, that I know of.” Mr. Crawley says this like it isn’t a huge deal. Just changing a course. But the idea of not volunteering at the hospital takes my breath away. I hadn’t realized how important it was to me. I was counting on showing up this weekend. On meeting new moms and babies.
I really need to figure out if nursing is for me. Because it feels like it just might be.
Evita must see how gutted this news makes me. “That is so unfair!” she wails. “Her internship is important. Isn’t a suspension enough?”
“Those are the rules. We take these things seriously,” Ms. George says. “I wish you had heeded my warning.”
“Ms. George will accompany you to your lockers while I notify your parents. Do you have transportation, or do you need to wait for rides?” Mr. Crawley asks.
“We can drive ourselves,” Theo says.
“You can gather your things,” Mr. Crawley says. “I hope this is the last time I see the three of you.”
“We hope so, too,” Evita says cheerfully.
Ms. George leads us out of her office. The halls are empty. Everyone’s in their after-lunch classes. I’m so glad no one can see us marched through the halls with our heads hanging low.
“Our suspension starts with missing senior seminar,” Evita says. “So that’s something.”
We stop at Theo’s locker, then Evita’s, and then mine. I’m self-conscious when I unzip my backpack, because I also have condoms in mine. I try to cram every textbook into my bag. I don’t want to get behind in any classes. With my now-heavy backpack on my shoulders, Evita grabs my hand. I must look shocked or upset, because Theo grabs my other hand.
We have to walk past our senior seminar classroom on our way to the main entrance. The door is open, and I can hear Mrs. Einhorn talking about credit scores. She pauses her lecture when she sees us walking past her door. I swear she has a smug, satisfied look when she turns back to her class.
I catch a couple of our classmates looking at us with wide eyes. I’m so far from invisible right now, and instead of making me feel proud to have taken a stand, it just makes me feel small. I want out of this particular spotlight. Especially when I see one of my classmates raise her phone and snap a picture.
Twenty-eight
We pile into my car. I get into the driver’s seat and just kind of process everything for a second. I’m a jumble. I’m shocked. I’m exhilarated. I’m embarrassed. I’m beyond pissed about the internship. Evita slides into the passenger seat and turns to face me.
“Lacey, you still with us, babe?” Evita asks.
“Babe?” I say, turning to her. I don’t know what possesses me to make a joke, but in true Evita style, I mime vomiting.
Evita laughs and then so do I, all my tenseness just bubbling out in laughter.
“What is so funny?” Theo says.
“We just got suspended!” I say. “But do you think maybe they’ll change their minds about our independent studies?”
“Honestly, I’m okay with switching to hospitality. Or whatever. The quartet—or trio or whatever—is so over.”
“But I really like mine,” I say.
“Listen. We’ll figure that out. But right now, we need some music!” Evita says.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. “Hold the music for a second.”
“Hello?” I answer.
“Lacey Elizabeth Burke,” my mom says.
“Yes?” I say.
“Put her on speaker,” Theo says.
“Get your butt home right now. You are in big trouble. And I am so freaking proud of you. Was it just you?”
“We got suspended, too!” Evita says.
“Okay, well, we need to discuss everything,” my mom says. “Are you coming home?”
“My mom’s calling me, too,” Evita says, reaching for her phone.
“Yeah. I’m coming home.”
“Tell Janice she’s welcome here. And Theo’s folks.”
“Thanks,” Theo says loudly from the backseat. He shakes his head at me. No way will his parents be as supportive as mine.
Theo’s mom and Janice go way back. They were friends in high school. It kind of baffles me that anyone who has been lifelong friends with Janice wouldn’t be more supportive.
“See you in a bit,” I say.
Evita wraps up her conversation with her mom. When I fire up the car, Evita turns to Theo. “Do you need to call your folks? Or are we ready for some music?”
“I’ll just text them,” he says.
Evita wastes no time putting on one of her favorite singers.
I keep glancing at Theo in the rearview mirror. I thought he’d be more excited, like Evita, who is dancing and singing. But he’s just tapping furiously on his phone.
“Everything okay?” I ask him. The look on his face. I just want to climb back there and hug him.
“Yeah. My dad is not too happy,” Theo says. “I thought maybe having a son caught with loads of condoms would make him proud. What could be manlier?”
“Your dad is a jerk. It isn’t like you were doing the condom project to get his approval,” Evita says. “So, what? Are you grounded?”
“I’m in ‘big trouble,’” Theo says, using air quotes. “But I’m the fourth kid, so they probably won’t even remember to follow through on that. They were so hard on my oldest sister. Then my middle two sisters just got away with more and more. So I’m lucky, really.”
“My mom will be happy to smother you with extra parental attention if you want,” I say.
“And you know my mom will,” Evita says.
“Anyway, we love you,” I say. This makes him smile. It’s a small smile. And since Evita is back to dancing, it’s a smile just for me. And I realize what I just said and that even though it’s in a different context, it’s the first time I’ve told him I love him since he said it to me.
* * *
“We support you,” my mom says.
“Absolutely,” Charlie chimes in.
“And I’ll raise hell about the independent study thing,” my mom says.
“You don’t think I’ll actually have to stop volunteering, do you?”
“The hospital was pretty clear that it has to be through the school,” my mom says sympathetically. “You might want to give Kelly a heads-up, but I’m going to meet with Ms. George about all of this.”
“Can we maybe not fight the suspension as hard? I kind of want a day off,” Evita says.
“I never thought I’d be okay with you getting suspended,” says Janice. “But I have to say, I love the sound of everything you’ve been doing.”
We’ve been sitting at my dining room table, going through every aspect of our project, filling Janice in on the details she didn’t know. She and my mom have been scrolling through the Tumblr.
“So, what are you guys going to do now?” Charlie asks. “I mean, it’s not that I agree with the school about you distributing lewd content, but you can’t just go back in there and keep it going.”
The baby monitor on the counter crackles as Dylan wakes up. Charlie gives me a smile and excuses himself to take care of the baby.
“I know we can’t keep handing things out,” I say. “But what can we do? I mean, I’ll keep the Tumblr going. Ms. George obviously knows about it now, but I don’t see what she can do about it.”
“But getting the kids condoms is so important,” my mom says. “Or at least creating an atmosphere of respect and responsibility instead of shame and deviance.”
“I don’t know if we did all that,” I say.
“You absolutely have,” Theo says. “Don’t sell yourself short. You made me feel less stupid asking about things or talking about it.”
“That just makes me want to keep going, then,” I say. “B
ut if we are going to be banging our heads against the stupid ‘lewd material’ rule, then maybe the rule needs to change. Or at least lewd has to be better defined so it doesn’t include vital information about health and sexuality.”
“I don’t know if this backward town can get on board with that,” Evita says. “But, yeah, what you’ve said about abstinence-only education being ineffective … It seems pretty clear that more needs to be taught.”
“So maybe we need to make a case with the people at the top,” I say.
“I support this one hundred percent,” my mom says.
“Will they listen to statistics?” I ask my mom.
“Statistics are important,” Evita says. “But what they should be listening to is their students. Like what if Alice gave her perspective? Like how stupid is it that she didn’t feel like she could keep coming to school the minute she got pregnant? And not that you should share confidential stuff people ask you, but maybe some of those kids would share.”
“I don’t know. That’s a bit of a leap. To go from being too nervous to ask anyone about sex, to getting the courage to ask me, to then stand in front of the school board…”
“You don’t know until you ask,” Evita says. “I think you could make a kickass argument. Just look at that shit you said to Ms. George. I mean, Lacey, all of this is, like, your superpower.”
“You’re making me blush,” I say. “We’re going to do this, right? I know we’re leaving this school in … seven months … not that I’m counting. I want to leave it swinging.”
“Agreed. Me, too,” Theo says.
“I hate to be a dissenting voice…,” Janice says.
“What?” Evita asks.
“I don’t want you guys risking anything in the future. I mean, I have no doubt that music schools won’t be as strict as other colleges, but I don’t want y’all to get into a fight you can’t win that might hurt your prospects.”
Evita bites her lip. “Okay. If Berklee doesn’t want a bunch of talented-as-fuck—sorry, Mom—kids just because they didn’t want their classmates to get syphilis, then I don’t want them.”
“Agreed,” Theo says.
“I understand that, sweetheart. Let’s just maybe avoid any more suspensions. One seems like one thing, but more and it could sound a little like you don’t respect institutions,” Janice says. “I know that’s probably not what y’all want to hear.”
“I don’t respect this particular institution,” Evita says. “I’m not about to keep that quiet.”
“I’m sure Janice just wants you guys to be thoughtful and not do anything rash. But I think presenting things civilly and informatively to the school board is doing it the right way,” my mom says. “And, yeah, suspensions don’t look great, but you guys should write letters to your colleges now. Tell them what’s up. Tell them you’ll fight for what’s right and what’s best for your friends. Lacey, from what you told me about UMass Amherst, they’ll be in total support of that.”
“Yeah,” I say. I turn to Theo and Evita. “They even highlighted the work an alum did with Planned Parenthood. Like, right on their nursing school home page. It was pretty inspiring. It really made me realize the stupid ideals we have here aren’t universal. I can really see us in Massachusetts, where things are much more liberal. And, honestly, nursing school could be really awesome.”
“Wait…,” Theo says.
“I’m not saying I’ve decided to go to nursing school,” I say quickly.
“But you’re thinking about it?” Theo asks. “Like, seriously considering it? Amherst is two hours from Boston.”
His question takes me by surprise. Mostly because … I am considering it. I can see myself there. I can see arming myself with knowledge that will really help people.
“I don’t know yet,” I say.
“We were all going to get an apartment in the city! When were you going to tell us you were seriously considering this?” Theo says, his voice getting louder.
“Theo. Relax. She just said she’s thinking about it,” Evita says. “Although, for sure we will be discussing this,” she says to me sternly.
I never thought Evita would be the one to be cooler about this. Theo looks totally stricken.
He goes really quiet. Arms crossed over his stomach, slumped in the chair, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt.
“You guys. We’ll figure this out, right?” Evita fills the silence. “And right now we have a ton of time on our hands. So, we should make a plan, practice some music, write some letters to colleges, discuss college choices ad nauseum and stuff. But I’m actually sort of hungry right now. Right?”
“I’ll make some lunch,” my mom offers.
“I should call my folks,” Theo says quietly. He gets up from the table and goes outside.
“Okay,” Evita says. “Do we know when the next school board meeting is?”
“I’ll check,” Janice says.
“We should write a Tumblr post. Right, Lacey?” Evita asks.
“Yeah. You can. I’m just gonna check on Theo,” I say.
I grab the first jacket I can find hanging by the door, even though it’s Charlie’s and it swallows me whole. It’s getting colder and bleaker outside every day. Theo sits on the far end of my porch, just watching the trees drop their leaves.
I slide down next to him. “Hey.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “You know, I think I got ahead of myself,” he says.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I sort of let myself really fall for you,” he says. He has a wobbly sort of smile. His eyeliner is smudged.
I hold my breath and wait for him to finish his thought. But I want to make him feel better.
“You didn’t tell me you were seriously considering nursing school. I’m totally and completely falling for you, and now I’m not even sure we’ll be together next year.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know when I started actually considering it. I only applied to make my mom happy. But I think nursing school could actually be great. Amherst isn’t that far from Boston. I applied there so we could still be in the Sparrows. Like, see each other every single weekend.”
He nods and sniffs some snot back into his nose. He dabs at his eyes with his sleeve.
“I’m sorry we haven’t talked about this. But when we’re together, it’s not like we’ve been … talking,” I tease.
He lets out a little laugh that’s maybe more of a sob. I would do anything in this moment to make him feel better.
“I do this, though. All the time,” he says. “I’m destined to be more serious about girls than they are about me. And this felt different. With you. Like it’s just so right and you wanted to be with me.”
“I do want to be with you!” I say forcefully. “In fact, I basically would rather us never be apart. If you must know.”
“I kind of want to kiss you. All the time. But now especially.”
I glance around. No one can see us from inside the house. I put a hand on either side of his cheeks where they’re scratchy. I lean in. His breath is warm and sweet. I kiss him slowly. It’s perfect. Kissing him makes every other part of this day seem unimportant.
He leans his forehead and nose against mine. “I was so excited about being together next year,” he says. “We’d be able to kiss all the time!” He pulls me close and I lay my head on his shoulder. “Please tell me when you know what you’re going to do. Not knowing how next year will be really sucks.”
“I don’t like not knowing, either,” I say. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was actually thinking about Amherst. It’s only just recently, thinking about the stuff we’ve been doing at school, and about volunteering. I know I could do music forever. And I will. I just might want to give this a shot, maybe. I mean, that’s what the internship was for. If I still have the internship … I just think I could be really good at it.”
“I know you could. You definitely could. But I just had this picture of us being together, and I don’t
want to lose that. I think about it all the time.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. And I am. So sorry. I don’t want to give that up, either. But I can’t reassure him about something that is still so unknown to me.
His eyes are watering so much, the tears are starting to drip down his cheeks. That sight, maybe even more than his smile or his dimples, makes me want to kiss him more. So I do. I put both hands back on his scruffy cheeks and kiss him.
Kissing him makes me want to forget about Amherst. I want to forget about everything except the way this feels. But my mind is still spinning. Today’s been a lot. I don’t know how to feel about being suspended, about losing my volunteer job, about the fact that going to Amherst would make Theo this upset. I shiver involuntarily.
“You cold?” Theo asks me.
I shake my head, because right now I feel almost too warm. “We should probably go back in.”
He backs up a step. “Yeah. Probably should not be making out on your front porch. Except if we aren’t going to be together next year, I’m not sure I’ll want to do anything but kiss you as much as possible before then.”
“God. Theo. I wouldn’t break up with you. We could still kiss every weekend. All weekend. Music and kissing.”
He sighs. “Okay. But that’s not the same as sleeping in the same bed every night.”
“I know,” I say. “Believe me, I’m factoring that into my decision.”
He hops back onto the porch. “Let’s go in.”
We go back inside, even though, I agree, we could just keep kissing from now until next year.
My mom is setting sandwiches on the table. “Okay. I’m going to call Ms. George and ask about internship stuff. You guys eat up.”
“So…,” Evita says. “Just to be clear … if you went to Amherst, you’d—what?—come to Boston every weekend?”
“Yeah. I think so. But I honestly don’t know what I’m doing. I do know that the Sparrows will stay together, okay?” I tell her.
She’s staring at me. At first, I think she’s studying me to figure out which way I’m leaning between music and nursing school. But her eyes narrow.
“Why are you so red?” she asks.
The Birds, the Bees, and You and Me Page 18
