When It Happens

by Susane Colasanti

  “Seriously?” I say.

  “Completely. It’s so you.”

  “It’s way too small. And this desk is just like . . .” I make a face like, Who else has a desk like this?

  “It’s cool. Is that burlap?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Kickin’ it old-school.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  Tobey looks at the things on my shelves. “You have a xylophone?”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  “Random!”

  “Totally. Yeah, my old babysitter gave it to me when I was, like, five.”

  “Can you play?”

  “Sort of.”

  “That’s cool,” Tobey says. “I haven’t mastered the art of xylophone yet. Maybe you can teach me.”

  “Sure.” I quickly check the back of my door to make sure I didn’t leave any bras hanging there. “It’s an experience you don’t want to miss.”

  Tobey smiles at me. “I have a feeling you’ll be showing me a lot of those.”

  I feel my cheeks get hot. “And . . .” I go over to my bed. I’m desperately trying to divert Tobey’s attention away from my burning face. But diverting the attention to my bed was an example of bad decision-making skills in action. Now I’m blushing even more because I’m sitting on my bed. “This is Chez.” I pick up my stuffed koala bear I’ve had since before I can remember. “It’s short for Mr. Chester M. Wick.”

  “I dig his shirt,” Tobey says. Chez wears a vintage Late Night with David Letterman T-shirt. “I’m a total Dave fanatic.”

  “Me, too! Whenever there’s someone good on, I tape him and watch it after school.”

  Tobey goes, “Same. Except now I have so much to do . . . it’s quite possible I’ll never see Dave again.”

  “That is just not true. You already have straight A’s so far. And after your apps are in and your makeup work is done, all you have to do is keep up. It’s easy.”

  “Maybe for you. . . .”

  “It will be for you, too. You’ll see.”

  Tobey goes over to my CD rack. I watch him inspect my CDs. I always thought that if a guy really liked me, he’d at least make an effort to see what kind of music I was into. Dave would only pick out the ones he had and then play those. But Tobey’s really looking at all of them. I hope he likes what I like. Not that we have to like all the same things. I just love how we have so much in common.

  “I can’t believe you have this!” He holds up The Shins. “The Shins are sick!”

  “Why can’t you believe it?”

  “I don’t know. You just seem . . . I didn’t know you were into alternative stuff.” He picks up another CD. “Who’s Nick Drake?”

  “Put it on. He’s awesome.”

  Tobey puts the CD on. Then he comes over and hugs me. I lean my head on his chest.

  “I want to know everything about you,” he whispers.

  “Same here,” I whisper back.

  There’s so much I want to say to him. I’m dying to tell him everything I’m thinking. But I don’t want to freak him out.

  Tobey starts swaying to the music. I sway with him. I love the way it feels like Tobey’s really with me, like he’s not holding any part of himself back.

  The song ends.

  “What are you thinking?” I whisper.

  “Right now?” Tobey whispers.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m thinking I can’t believe we’re finally together.” He moves his hand down my hair.

  That’s when I realize it would be impossible to freak him out with how I feel about him. Because I’m pretty sure he feels the same way.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks.

  “I think . . .” My heart almost stops for a second. “I think . . . I’m falling in love with you.”

  Tobey doesn’t freak out. He kisses me over and over, barely pressing his lips against mine.

  After he leaves, I turn the lights off. I put Disintegration in my CD player and lie down on my bed. I listen to the whole thing, replaying what just happened five hundred times in my head, over and over until I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to think of anything else again.

  The next day is the day I agreed to do something totally out of character for me. Tobey said since I turned him on to a new way of life, he wants me to experience part of his old way of life. It will be the first time for me and the last time for him. Since it’s the last day before Christmas break and most teachers are doing games and stuff anyway, I don’t feel too guilty about our plan. Plus everyone’s all hyper, like wearing tinsel and giving out candy canes and cards, which is annoying and makes me want to leave.

  In homeroom, I’m ignoring Caitlin & Co. They’ve been ignoring me since Dave and I split anyway, so it’s not that hard. But it’s pathetic that whether Caitlin talks to me depends on who I’m going out with. So I’m focusing on drawing a blue door in my sketchbook. The thing about this door is that it also comes with two blue porch lights. They symbolize a source of pure blue energy. I swear I was a moth in another life. I’m drawn to lights, any lights, especially at night. But blue lights in particular always make me get this intense feeling.

  On my way to gym, I throw my stuff in my locker. There’s a neon orange Post-it note stuck up. It says:

  I peel off the note and stick it inside my sketchbook. It’s already obvious that I’m going to do a page about this day. Whenever something major is happening in my life, I mentally design the sketchbook page to document it later. But I’m still in the moment, feeling everything, so I put my sketchbook away.

  This is too exciting. And also scary. What if we get caught? I don’t know how I’m supposed to function like a normal person until ninth period.

  I can’t eat my lunch.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Laila asks.

  “Nerves.”

  “Relax,” Maggie says. “It’ll be fab.”

  “Are you actually going through with this?” Laila squints at me.

  “Yes. I promised Tobey.”

  “I don’t know why it’s so important to him,” Laila says. “Isn’t he reformed?”

  “The point is to share something about his past life so I can understand where he’s coming from better. And he says I’ll have a ridiculous amount of fun.”

  “Hmmm.” Laila bites into her soggy cafeteria pizza.

  “And it’s the last time I’ll get to do something like this,” I say. “I don’t want to graduate and be sitting around on some random porch ten years from now, regretting. You have to live in the moment. You can’t let experiences pass you by without doing anything about it.”

  “Preach it, sister girl.” Maggie waves her hand in the air.

  “Can I sit with you guys?”

  We look up at Josh. He looks like a lost puppy.

  “Um.” I look over at Laila and Maggie. Sometimes Tobey sits with us, but we haven’t advanced to the stage of combining lunch tables yet.

  "Uh...”

  Laila mouths No! to me.

  Maggie jumps in. “It’s just that we’re talking about . . . girl stuff. It would be boring for you.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that would be boring at all. In fact, it’s one of my favorite topics.” He has this big cheesy smile.

  “Where’s Tobey?” I ask him.

  “I don’t know. Somewhere with Mike. They like spending quality time alone together.” Josh gives me a look. “I’d be worried if I were you, Sara.”

  I laugh. Josh is such a case.

  “Grimy,” Maggie says.

  There’s that big cheesy smile again.

  Maggie smiles a little.

  He goes, “Anyway . . . later.” He lopes off toward the drama geeks’ table.

  Laila scrutinizes Maggie’s face. “What’s up with you?”

  "What?” Maggie sips her lemonade. "Nothing.”

  “Nooo,” Laila presses. “Something is definitely up. I mean, other than Josh’s Mr. Happy.”

  “Oh my god!” Maggie yells. “I so do not li
ke him!”

  “Are you sure? Because it looked to me like—”

  “Of course I’m sure. Come on. Josh? Ew.”

  “Whatever,” Laila says.

  “Like we don’t have more important matters to discuss. ” Maggie fans her face with a napkin, which is completely ineffective. “What’s the story with later on?”

  “We’re going after eighth period.”

  A roar of general chaos emanates from the jock table. We look over. Dave is doing something juvenile involving his straw and his nose. How could I have missed the part where he’s so fifth-grade?

  “Hideous,” Laila decides.

  “Abhorrent,” Maggie adds.

  “Ooh!” I say. “More reading of the dictionary?”

  “But of course.”

  My nerves twang for the rest of the day. But in a good way. It’s like I’m actually starting to have real experiences. Ones that actually mean something.

  By the time I meet Tobey at our lockers, I couldn’t be more nervous.

  “Ready?” Tobey says.

  I used to have this problem with listening to myself. My soul would be screaming directions, and I’d always do the opposite thing. Normally I would back out of a plan like this. And I do feel the old me trying to ignore my heart. But the new me goes with the flow.

  So I nod.

  I can’t believe I’m going to cut class.

  I’ve never cut class in my life.

  I love how we walk down the hall, like we own it. Like we can leave anytime we want. It doesn’t matter that we have to go out the side door and sneak to the parking lot so no one sees us.

  It feels incredible to be outside when I’m supposed to be inside. The sensation of freedom is intoxicating.

  We drive until we get to the way-back roads. The dirt road we turn onto is a dead end. There’s nothing but trees everywhere you look.

  Tobey turns the car off. He reaches over and takes something out of the glove compartment. It’s crookedly wrapped in the Sunday comics.

  “Merry Christmas.” He holds the gift out to me.

  “Wow. Did you wrap this yourself?”

  “Of course not. I had it professionally done.”

  “Impressive.”

  “You deserve the best.”

  I take his gift out of my bag. We agreed to exchange gifts today since we’ll be stuck doing family things for the next few days. I made him a mix CD and gave him a blacklight bulb.

  I unwrap my gift. Of course he made me a mix CD, too. But then he also gave me the new White Stripes.

  Tobey pushes around all these tapes and CDs covering the backseat.

  I look at them. “Is there any kind of music you don’t listen to?”

  “No. Well, opera maybe.”

  “Who’s Jane’s Addiction?”

  “They’re phenomenal. You can borrow it.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  He goes, “Here’s that R.E.M. I was playing before.”

  I love how he said “before.” I love how we have this history.

  Tobey hands it to me. “Borrow it for as long as you want.”

  I examine the cover. “Why’s the cover orange if it’s called Green?”

  “Stare at it.”

  “I’m almost positive it’s orange.”

  Tobey takes the CD and holds it in front of my face. “Just stare at it.”

  I stare at it. I try not to laugh.

  “Now look away really fast.”

  I refocus on the glove compartment. A splotch of green hovers over it for a few seconds.

  “Oh! Cool!”

  “Complementary colors.”

  “Yeah.”

  We both sneak a look at each other at the same time. Then we quickly look out at the trees.

  “So, um . . . I hope you like the mix CD,” he says. “I put ‘You Are the Everything’ from Green on there— that was the one you liked—and there’s some Journey and live James Taylor. . . . Oh, and some of that Led Zeppelin you liked—”

  “Yeah!” I love how he always remembers what I like. “Thanks.”

  Suddenly I feel that pull toward him. A tingly feeling spreads along the back of my neck when he kisses me. My brain fizzles.

  “Want to get in the back?” Tobey says.

  “Okay.” I don’t even care that it’s freezing.

  We climb over the seat into the back. The backseat is huge. His whole car is huge. I remember how Matt made fun of it one day in the parking lot. He was like, “What’s this Titanic joint supposed to be? His car?”

  Tobey says, “I’d turn the heat on, but if my battery dies we’re screwed.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Wait.” Tobey runs out to the trunk. He runs back in with a blanket. “This blanket kind of smells,” he says. “Sorry.”

  The blanket smells kind of like gasoline, but I’ve always liked that smell.

  “It’s fine.”

  Tobey spreads the blanket out on the seat. He kisses me.

  “Are you comfortable?”

  I forget the word for yes. I nod.

  He starts kissing me again. His lips feel amazing.

  It seems like five minutes later, but I know it’s more like an hour at least. It’s getting dark out. Plus the windows are all fogged up and my lips feel puffy.

  I love how his hands feel on my body.

  “Sara,” he whispers. “You feel so good.”

  I kiss him over and over.

  He moans. I want to take his clothes off . . . to know what it feels like. But it’s still too scary.

  He says, “I can’t take it anymore.”

  I love how I’m making him this crazy. And the best part is that he never pressures me to do anything.

  Tobey stops kissing me. I put my arms around him. We lie next to each other for a while.

  Eventually he says, “I don’t want to do this, but . . . I guess you have to go home.”

  But I don’t want to go, either. I want to stay here with him, like this, forever.

  He holds my hand the whole ride to my house.

  And now we’re supposed to go back to our normal lives. That’s what people do. They have these amazing experiences with another person, and then they just go home and clean the bathroom or whatever.

  CHAPTER 34

  shocking facts

  january 5, 10:04 a.m.

  Shocking Fact #1: I still do my math homework.

  And my grades are still decent. I’m determined to show Sara that I’ve changed.That I’ll be as successful in college as she wants me to be.

  I feel so good that I’m also determined to do something crazy in pre-calc. Mr. Perry is picking people to put homework problems on the board.

  “Twenty-three?” Mr. Perry growls. “Who wants to put up number twenty-three?”

  Five kids are having conniptions, their hands straining to punch right through the ceiling.

  Shocking Fact #2: I am currently raising my hand right along with them.

  I’ve never raised my hand in math. Ever. Not even to answer a simple question. I’ve been doing all my work, but that’s as far as it goes. Nothing extra included.

  Everyone stares. One girl barks out a laugh.

  Mr. Perry thinks I’m joking. "Yes, Tobey? What can I do for you?” he says in this weary tone.

  “I’m volunteering to put up twenty-three.”

  Everyone freezes like they’re in a game of Red Light Green Light and I just screamed “Red!”

  Mr. Perry is not amused.

  “Very funny.” Mr. Perry starts to call on someone else.

  “No, I’m serious. I did my homework. See?” I wave the paper around over my head. “And I want to do twenty-three. ”

  “Very well.” But he still looks uncertain, like I might run up to the front of the room and rip some math posters off the wall. “Twenty-nine? Anyone?”

  As I walk up to the board I’m grinning like crazy. I can’t help it. It’s Sara’s influence. Even when she’s not around, she’s st
ill with me.

  I know twenty-three was the hardest problem. And I know I got every step right.

  Shocking Fact #3: If I didn’t know better, I would think that look in Mr. Perry’s eyes is something like hope.

  There’s been tension between us ever since Battle of the Bands. Our momentum has changed. And we’re so stressed out with everything else going on.

  “What key is this in?” Mike squints at the sheet music I wrote around two in the morning.

  “F-sharp,” I say.

  Mike squints some more. "Oh yeah duh. I see it now.”

  Josh is sprawled out on the garage floor. “This floor is cold.”

  “So maybe you should get up,” Mike says.

  “I’m trying. My body just hasn’t responded yet.”

  Mike pinches the bridge of his nose. He puts the sheet music on top of the amp. "You sound more exhausted than I feel.”

  “There’s no contest in the exhaustion department,” I say. "I already won.”

  “Now you know how we’ve felt all year,” Josh says. “I can’t believe how much effort it takes to maintain a C average.”

  “That’s because you’ve been smoking the chronic again,” I joke.

  Josh tries to throw a crunched-up Coke can at me. He slowly lifts his arm a few inches off the floor like it’s too heavy to be attached to his body. The can lands next to him with a tinny clank.

  “Take that,” Josh says. He looks like he’s about to fall asleep.

  “What’s happening to us?” I say. Lately it’s like we barely have enough energy to get through half of our set list. And we’re not playing up to our usual standards.

  I don’t want to be here as much as I used to. And I don’t think I’m alone.

  “We’re in a rut,” Mike says.

  Josh yawns, still on the floor.

  “Maybe we should . . .” I want to say maybe we should take a break for a while. I’m still making up work from last marking period, and I only have like a week left to get it all done. Plus now that I’m maintaining an A average, I have to do all of these stupid projects and reports and stuff. And after the Battle of the Bands fiasco, it occurred to me that maybe we’re not going to be famous after all.

  Maybe we’ll even break up.

  “Should what?” Mike looks at me.

  “I don’t know. I was just thinking . . . we’re all so busy and tired, and . . . it’s not the same. Practice, I mean. Maybe we should . . . take a break?”