Save Steve

by Jenni Hendriks

  “That is not at all—Kaia can take care of—”

  Steve cupped his hands around his mouth. “Does anyone know where this Kaia is so Cam can save her?”

  “I’m not here to rescue anyone!” I wasn’t. Kaia was obviously the last person on earth who would need rescuing. Not that Steve would be able to wrap his mind around the idea that there were girls out there who were as strong and independent as her. The only person who needed rescuing right now was me. From Steve. I just needed to get off this table and go home. At this point I was pretty sure Kaia wasn’t here. It was obviously not her scene. We could laugh about it at the next Save the Shark meeting.

  “Kaia’s in the kitchen!” A girl ran into the room through another archway, waving her arms in drunken excitement. Behind her, I could see the glow of overhead lights and the corner of a granite countertop. My heart stopped. “I found her!” she continued excitedly. “She’s in the—” The girl vomited on the floor in front of the table. People leaped out of the way, shrieking.

  “Oh my god! This is so exciting!” Steve squealed. “Our long journey is finally at an end. Just one more obstacle to surmount. The lake of vomit!” He said this last bit in a low booming voice and then gave me a shove, pushing me toward the edge of the table. “Go get her, big guy.”

  Holy shit. Kaia was here.

  I didn’t need Steve to push me. I jumped off the edge of the table and over the vomit and stepped through the archway.

  Kaia. It took me a second to process that she was really there. But she was. Kaia was bent over a trash can, pulling out recycling and stuffing it into a bag, and I was pretty sure my heart was going to pound out of my chest.

  Okay, this was it. I was here. The reason I came to this party was happening right now. All I had to do was walk up and say hi. She’d smile at me like she always did. I’d try not to explode with happiness. We’d talk about the party and the protest today and then I could mention how we first met at the wetlands. She’d remember that and laugh. And then I’d just . . . ask her out. And she’d say yes. Right? Of course she would. And if she didn’t—Nope. I definitely wasn’t going to imagine that endless black void. Not this time. Because everything was going to work out. It was. There were no misspellings. No stains on my shirt. Nothing that would make Kaia think less of me. I was ready. It was simple. Hi. Party. Protest. Wetlands. Date. Hi. Party. Protest. Wetlands. Date. Now walk.

  But my stomach clenched. My legs braced. My chest seized. And for some reason breathing was no longer a thing I knew how to do. Shit. It was happening again.

  I just needed to walk to Kaia.

  I put one foot forward. Toward the void.

  My shoe squeaked on the shiny tile floor. Kaia looked up.

  “Cam?” She dropped the bag of recycling with a clatter. “You came!” The smile on her face was so wide and real it hurt. And, oh my god, her shirt had a tree on it. My shirt had a tree on it! I’d picked the right one. So why did my body hurt so much? I’d finally found the moment. The perfect moment. We were both wearing tree shirts. At this disaster of a party. Alone together. And still I gasped for air as she approached.

  Hi. Party. Protest. Wetlands. Void.

  No!

  Hi. Party. Protest. Wetlands. Date.

  “Hi, Kaia.” Even speaking was painful. But I urged out a few more words. “This party is awful, isn’t—”

  There was a whoosh of air as something swooped past me.

  Kaia’s eyes swung from mine. Her smile grew . . . brighter. And she extended her arms toward . . .

  Steve.

  And then he was there, lifting her up off the ground. Swinging her around. I heard laughter. Clear and happy. Was it hers? It had to be. It wasn’t mine. Then she was wrapping her legs around his waist. Her arms around his neck.

  No.

  No no no no no no no no no.

  She tilted her face down toward Steve’s, her smile softening. Steve answered her with his own, gazing into her eyes. She leaned down and . . . kissed him.

  Kaia was kissing Steve Stevenson.

  She was kissing him. And I was standing there in Steve’s kitchen with empty cans rolling around my feet, not kissing her. Because she was kissing Steve. Why was she kissing Steve?

  “There you are!” Steve said to her when they finally broke apart. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

  That. Asshole.

  Kaia laughed. “Oh, sorry. I just saw that people weren’t separating their trash and I got distracted.”

  Steve shook his head, smiling, and gently twirled a piece of her hair around his finger. “God. You are amazing.”

  That. Fucking. Asshole.

  Kaia giggled. And then she leaned forward and kissed him. Again. Steve pulled her more tightly against him and deepened the kiss. Oh god. They were using tongues. Kaia was touching her tongue to Steve Stevenson’s tongue. I thought I was dying before but this was worse. This was so much worse. Because there was a giant hole inside me now. And it was filled with tongues.

  As they kissed, Steve turned them so Kaia’s back was facing me. He peeled one arm away and raised his hand. And then slowly, ever so slowly, he uncurled his middle finger.

  I made a sound. A sad, pathetic sound. And then I left.

  Propelled by rage, I stomped across Steve’s front lawn. He had played me. From the moment I’d asked about Kaia, he had played me. Steve must have been laughing the whole time. Every single room I’d entered, every time he’d coax me to ask where Kaia was, he’d been laughing. And he’d gotten the whole class to laugh with him. Because everyone must have known she was dating him. Of course they did. He was Steve Stevenson. The most popular guy in school. God, I was such a colossal idiot.

  But worse than the rage was the other feeling. The one that threatened to overwhelm me every time the white-hot anger started to fade. Because once I stopped thinking about Steve, I started thinking about Kaia. Playing through my mind on repeat was every single moment I’d almost asked her out. By the lockers. In a meeting. At the coffee shop. At the protest. On that Wednesday. It had never been the right moment. I’d wanted it to be perfect. I’d waited for it to be perfect, but now . . . she was with Steve. When? How? Why? The questions tumbled through my head.

  I squeezed my way through cars parked practically on top of one another, some even pulled onto the grass, searching for my faded blue Prius.

  Tongues.

  The image of Kaia and Steve kissing flashed through my mind and I wanted to die. Dammit. Where was my car? I had to get home. I was losing it.

  Tongues.

  No. I wasn’t thinking about that. I had to think of something else. An oil slick. A forest fire. Glaciers melting. Steve exploding like one of those aliens in the video game. Anything but Kaia’s face pressed against his. Finally, I spotted my car, miraculously not boxed in.

  “Giddyup!” a distant voice slurred. Across the street a guy with a towel slung around his waist and no shoes was yanking on his car door. “Giddyup. Gotta ride . . .”

  Oh shit. He was going to try to drive. I dashed across the street. “Hey!” I waved my hands, trying to get his attention. “Hey!” The guy turned. I stopped, out of breath. “You’re too drunk to drive. Get in. I’ll give you a ride home.”

  Five minutes later, Giddyup was plastered against the passenger window, singing a country song I didn’t recognize as we coasted along the nearly empty streets. Except for a few pockets near Main Street, the town was pretty quiet past nine p.m.

  Tongues.

  “Fuck!” I slammed my hands against the steering wheel.

  Giddyup lurched forward, startled. “Dude! Not cool. My head’s not doing so great.” He belched. “Or my stomach.”

  “Sorry.” I waited to see if he’d vomit. But once he slumped back against the window, we seemed to be in the clear. I had to ask him. “How long has Steve been with Kaia Gonzales?”

  “I don’t know. A couple of weeks?”

  Well, it wasn’t months. It was a new relationship.
That was good, right? She couldn’t be in love with him. Not after two weeks. Of course, I wasn’t sure how anyone could fall in love with Steve, especially Kaia. He wore an American flag Speedo, for fuck’s sake. But did that mean I’d missed my chance? If I’d asked her out earlier, would it have been me in the kitchen kissing her instead of Steve? Would that have been my tongue?

  “She’s lucky. Steve’s the best.” The guy gave a weak thumbs-up.

  My head spun so fast I almost sprained it. “The best? Seriously?” All I could see was Steve’s stupid smiling face as he asked me if Kaia was a Kardashian or a Swift.

  “Yeah.” Giddyup smiled and gave two thumbs-up. “Such . . . the best.” It was too much.

  “NO!” I slammed my hands on the steering wheel again. The guy jumped. “He is not the BEST!” I kept going. “You know who’s the best? Me.” I thrust my finger at my chest. “I’m the one driving you home. I’m the one keeping you from getting killed. Would Steve do this? Hell no! He’s probably doing Jell-O shots off a pool floatie right now! I’m saving your life!”

  There was a beat of silence. For a moment, the only sound in the car was my panting. The guy’s face scrunched up. “Who are you?”

  Enraged, I shoved all my stupid T-shirts off the bed.

  “Gaaaaah!!!!” I stood in the middle of the rainbow of fabric and a terrible realization flickered to life. Steve had probably told Kaia everything. Why wouldn’t he? It was too easy to imagine him leaning over with his stupid smirk, telling her how I was obsessed with her. That I was some sort of stalker who’d wandered around the whole party looking for her. I was so stupid. So fucking stupid! I deserved it. I’d waited so long. Why had I waited so long? I crashed onto the bed and screamed into my pillow.

  I had to get back at Steve. Somehow.

  I chucked my pillow across the room and brainstormed the worst thing I could do to him. Get a nationwide ban on Solo cups? Crash the Grand Theft Auto server? Block all porn?

  “End his party.” The idea was so good I’d said it out loud. I sat up, inspired. “I should call the police. There’s underage drinking, weed . . . They would shut down his stupid party in a second! Even with his dad there.”

  I grabbed my phone and pulled up Ventura PD.

  “Not afraid of anything, huh? I bet you’re afraid of the cops showing up at your door.”

  But as I was about to hit call, my signed photo of Michelle Obama caught my eye. On the top she’d written the words, When they go low, we go high, Cam. Her warm, smiling visage stared back at me, asking if this was who I really was. Was I going to be just like Steve? Petty? Cruel? Selfish?

  Was this where I went low?

  “Goddamn it, Michelle!” I clicked off the phone and flopped back on my bed. I could only imagine Steve’s giddy laughter if he ever saw her photo on my dresser. But screw him.

  This wasn’t the first time Michelle had stopped me from doing something stupid. That photo had watched over me since the day my mother and I had waited four hours to get it. That day I was one of the only teenage boys in the entire line, which was pretty common for us. I was also one of the only teenage boys at the Ventura Women’s March and the local Planned Parenthood fundraiser. My mom and I always joked about it. Actually, I was pretty proud of it, even if my mom would always find a time to proclaim to the crowd, “I’ve got the best boy in the whole damn world!” I shouldn’t have been surprised that when we finally reached Mrs. Obama, she had clearly heard my mother’s unsubtle brag. “So, this is the best boy in the whole damn world?” she asked with a mischievous smile. I blushed and made a lame joke. And she laughed. Michelle Obama freakin’ laughed at my joke! Then she signed my photo and told us how heartened she was to see me. When Michelle Obama looks at you with those deep thoughtful eyes and tells you she is heartened to see you, that shit stays with you.

  “Okay, I can rise above it. I can go high,” I assured Michelle.

  Though now I felt even worse because I saw how weak I was. How quickly I was willing to ignore my own values because of some moronic proto frat boy with a shit-eating grin.

  “I’m so stuuuuppiiidd! I’m the worst!” I screamed.

  Knock. Knock.

  I shouldn’t have screamed.

  “Cam?” My mom, her worry evident even through the closed door.

  “Sorry, Mom.”

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  But she opened the door anyway and peeked in. “You sure?”

  “I’m fine.”

  She tilted her head, confused, and motioned to the crumpled pillow on the floor. “Oh, okay. Because your pillow called and wanted to file an assault charge.”

  “Very funny.”

  She smiled and walked over to my bed. “What’s wrong?” she asked, looking down on me like I was a wounded baby bird.

  The last thing I wanted to do was tell my mom I went to some generic high school drinking party. It’s not like she would have any sympathy for that. She’d tell me it served me right for even wasting my time on something so pointless. Instead, I covered with a different truth. One she could get behind.

  “The protest didn’t go as well as I hoped. People have a hard time understanding that Channel Islands Aqua Park isn’t an aquarium. It’s a theme park. They don’t care about conservation. Sure, they may say the shark’s living in an open water sea pen. But it’s really a cage. Sharks need to swim forty-five miles a day.”

  “Hey, Superman, you can’t change the world in a day, okay?”

  “I know. I think we raised awareness, though. The organizers are planning to get a petition started to ban the shark tank. Realistically, the city council’s our best option, even though it may take a while. I signed up for a couple signature shifts.”

  My mom sat on the side of my bed. “Hey, did you hear the news?”

  “What?” I knew the answer, but didn’t want to rob her of saying it.

  “I’ve got the best boy in the whole damn world.” She mussed my hair.

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “And I don’t have to share credit with any other dickwad, because I did it all by myself. I get full credit, right?”

  “Sort of.”

  She frowned. “Hey, your asshole father doesn’t get squat for those seven bullshit years he was barely here!”

  “I was talking about Michelle.” I smiled and motioned to the photo.

  My mom laughed. She then took a deep breath, a little embarrassed at her outburst, and leaned next to me. “Fine. Me and Michelle Obama. I can live with that.”

  God, I hope Michelle never tells her what goes on in here.

  7

  The first week after the party, I spent most of my time on anxious lookout for Steve. I was certain he was going to burst from behind every corner like a deranged fun-house clown and scream out, “Where’s Kaia?” Then he’d cackle, fake punch me, explode into hysterics after I flinched, do a chest bump with one of his friends, pop open a Rockstar, chug it, crush it, and saunter away as cheerleaders danced behind him, chanting, “Steve! Steve! Steve!”

  As for Kaia, whenever I saw her, I panic-ducked behind a trophy case or into freshman algebra. I couldn’t bear seeing a look on her face that would confirm Steve had blabbed everything to her. My current plan was to stay invisible until next summer. Steve would have broken up with her by then, since his girlfriends never lasted longer than a month or two, and Kaia and I could bond over what a jerk he was. Then maybe I could start to paint over the shitty caricature he’d drawn of me in her mind. I’d have to do something amazing, like save a dozen sharks. But it would be worth it.

  The final bell had rung and school was clearing out. I walked with my hoodie up, earbuds in, and eyes down, trying to be as invisible as possible while debating what new cause I could join. Saving the shark would mean running into Kaia, so that had to go. I was pretty sure I would melt into a humiliated puddle if I got within five feet of her. I hoped I could find something on the school’s Wall of Service bulletin board
that would be a good replacement.

  WHAM! Suddenly I was much, much closer than five feet. I wasn’t even five inches. I was on top of Kaia. I leaped back.

  “Kaia! Sorry, I didn’t see you,” I mumbled, ready to run for the bathroom and hide in it until morning if necessary, when she spoke.

  “It’s . . . okay.” Something was off. I looked up, alarmed. Had I really injured her?! It wasn’t that big of a bump. My elbows were bony, but could they really have done damage? Then I heard a sniff and, from my peripheral vision, saw her wiping her eyes.

  “You’re crying! Oh god. I’m sorry! Did I really hurt you?” My words tumbled over each other, in a pathetic attempt to soothe her.

  “It’s not you. It’s . . . It’s . . .”

  There was no need for her to finish the sentence. It could only be one thing. One person.

  “Steve.”

  She nodded and began to cry harder.

  The asshole had assholed her even quicker than I thought he would. And while there were so many things he could have done to hurt her, it didn’t really matter. I didn’t need to know the specifics. But maybe she wanted to talk about it?

  “What did he do?” I asked gently.

  She shook her head, unable to speak. I wondered how Steve could just cast her aside so easily like all the other girls he’d dated. I mean, this was Kaia. Feeling mostly helpless, I reached out tentatively and put my hand on her shoulder. I could feel it trembling. This seemed to release even more pain, and she suddenly swiveled and threw her arms around me.

  Around me!

  Her cascading hair was a soft curtain on my face. As I inhaled, its mysterious scent exploded in my brain, muddling my thoughts. The Wall of Service bulletin board spun around us like a disco ball of community engagement. Thankfully, my shoulder could absorb her tears as I tried to regain my bearings. With great focus, I summoned the basic agility to pat her back.

  “I’m sorry. Whatever happened, you don’t deserve it. You’re amazing. Really, really, really amazing . . .” I sucked in another breath. I wanted to say the right thing. The perfect thing. The blood in my heart crested, overflowing with emotion. I searched for the words until finally . . .