by Tracy Wolff
Me: Busy right now
Me: ttys
Then I put my phone aside and turn back to my cousin, who is currently scrolling through her own phone. She quits as soon as she realizes I’m done texting and then says, “Tell me the truth, Grace. Do you like Jaxon?”
“Like” is too insipid a word for the emotions Jaxon stirs up in me. There’s something about him that calls to me on a soul-deep level, something broken in him that somehow fits with what’s broken in me.
I know Macy doesn’t see it. She’s too busy being afraid of his darkness and social status to pay attention to what’s under the surface. But I see it—all the grief and pain and fear roiling around in him just beneath the blank face and empty eyes. I see him in a way I don’t think anyone else at this school does.
I don’t tell her any of that, though—it’s not my place to share Jaxon’s suffering. Instead, I answer, “What does it matter if I like him or not?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Because I don’t have an answer!” I groan. “I’ve been here three days, Mace. Three days! Everything feels upside down and backward, and I have no idea what I think about anything…or anyone. I mean, how am I supposed to know how I feel about a guy I barely know? Especially when he ignores me one minute and carries me home the next. He’s different than anybody I’ve ever met and—”
Macy’s snort interrupts my diatribe.
“What?” I beg. “Why do I get the feeling you know something you’re not sharing?”
“I have no idea. Go ahead.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “It sounds like you know something.”
“Sorry.” She holds her hands up in very obvious surrender. “I just…agree. Jaxon is definitely not like anyone you’ve ever met before.”
“You say that like it’s such a bad thing. I get that you don’t want me to like him—”
“Hey, I told you to stay away from him because he’s not an easy guy to be around. Or at least, he never was before. But with you…”
“What?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “It sounds like every cliché in the book, but he’s different when he’s with you. He’s somehow less intense but also more intense, if that makes sense.”
“It doesn’t. At all.”
Macy huffs out a laugh. “I know. But you’re the one who asked. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m wary about you and Jaxon doing whatever it is you’re doing, but I’m not totally against it. Not like I would have been if I hadn’t seen him with you today.”
I want to push her on that, want to ask her exactly what she means. But there’s a part of me that’s sure I already have a pretty good idea. She’s talking about the Jaxon I saw in the hall that first day, after Flint carried me up the stairs. Or the Jaxon I saw at the party, the one who looked so cold, so grim, that it sent me running in the opposite direction. Literally. If that’s the only Jaxon she’s ever seen, no wonder she felt the need to warn me off him.
“I still don’t know what we’re doing,” I admit, slumping into my pillows. “Or even if we’re doing anything. I just wish I knew what he thought about me, you know? Like, is he playing with me, or is he having some of the same thoughts I’m having?”
“What thoughts are you having?” She asks it so casually that I answer without thinking.
“I feel like I am obsessed with him. I think about him all the—” I break off when I realize what I’m saying. “You tricked me.”
Her look is all mock innocence. “I just asked you a question. You didn’t have to answer it.”
“You knew I was preoccupied and wasn’t thinking about guarding my words.”
“Good. I’m glad you weren’t censoring what you say. You don’t have to do that with me.” She reaches out and grabs my hand. “Seriously, Grace. Things are going to be weird here for you for a while. But we’re not going to be weird.” She gestures between the two of us. “Even if you can’t trust anybody else, you can trust me to have your back—even with Jaxon. We’re family.”
Suddenly, there’s a lump the size of Denali in my throat, and I swallow a couple of times, trying to clear it. I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear those words until she said them, didn’t realize how much I was missing having someone I can just count on—no questions asked—to be in my corner.
“You know that goes both ways, right, Macy? You can trust me, too.”
She grins. “I already do. I just want to make sure you remember what I said. And that I’m here, no matter what, on your side.”
There’s something intense in the way she says it—and the way she looks at me afterward. Like she’s trying to warn me and reassure me at the same time. It’s so bizarre that a frisson of unease runs down my spine, taking away the toasty warmth that comes with lying under my blanket and replacing it with a chill that has nothing to do with Alaska and everything to do with the feeling that I’m in way over my head here, even if I don’t know it yet.
I try to ignore the feeling, tell myself I’m probably just being paranoid. I’m smart—and honest—enough to acknowledge that lately I tend to expect the worst in every situation.
But instead of dwelling on the discomfort, I just nod and say, “Good. I’m glad.”
Macy grins. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, there is something I want to talk to you about.” She gets up, crosses to her mini fridge. “But I’m pretty sure you’re not going to like it.”
23
Never
Bring an
Ice Cream Scoop
to a Gun Fight
I eye Macy warily as she opens up the fridge and rummages around. “Exactly how much am I not going to like it?”
She holds up a pint of Cherry Garcia with a triumphant sound.
My stomach drops. “It’s so bad that we need Ben and Jerry’s?”
“To be honest, I always need Ben and Jerry’s.” She pulls the top off the brightly colored container, then grabs two spoons out of the bright-purple utensil cup on top of the fridge. “This just seems like a good time to indulge.”
I take the spoon she holds out to me. “I didn’t even know they sold Ben and Jerry’s up here.”
“It’s ten bucks a pint at the closest store, but they sell it.” She smiles at my look of horror.
“Wow. That’s…”
She grins. “Welcome to Alaska.”
“Guess what you have to talk about really is serious if it needs ten-dollar ice cream.”
She doesn’t say anything to my blatant fishing attempt, just holds out the open container so I can take a spoon of it. Which I do. She does, as well, and we do an ice-cream toast—mostly because toasting with the first bite of ice cream is a ritual we created the summer we spent together when we were five—before taking a bite.
I wait for Macy to tell me whatever’s on her mind, but she just scoops up another spoonful of ice cream. Then a third and a fourth, until I give up and do the same.
We’re about halfway done with the container before she finally says, “I need to warn you about something.”
Okaaaaaay? “Haven’t you already warned me about Jaxon? I thought that’s what we just did.”
“This isn’t about him. Or, I mean, I guess it is, but not like you’re thinking.” I must look as confused as I feel, because she takes a deep breath and blurts out, “If you like Jaxon—and I’m cool with it if you do, honest. But if you like him, Grace, you can’t keep hanging out with Flint, too. It won’t work.”
That’s so far from where I expected her to go that it takes me a second to actually assimilate her words. And even after I decide I understand them, they still don’t make any sense. “What do you mean, it won’t work? I’m not actually dating either one of them right now, and even if I was…surely I can be friends with the other one?”
“No.” She shakes her head emphatically. “
You can’t. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
I’m half convinced she’s messing with me—because how could she not be?—but she looks so serious, I have to ask, “What do you mean I can’t? What is this? The Breakfast Club?”
“Worse. Way worse.”
“Obviously, because even in The Breakfast Club, they figured out it didn’t matter what group you belong to.”
“Isn’t The Breakfast Club also the movie where Judd Nelson sexually harasses Molly Ringwald by reaching up her skirt when he’s hiding under her desk?”
When she puts it that way… “Okay, so maybe it’s not the best example.”
She rolls her eyes. “You think?”
“Even so, this whole Jaxon and Flint can’t be civil to each other because they head up different groups argument you’re making is ridiculous. Do you know how many people have been nice to me since I got here?” I hold up four fingers and tick off the names as I say them. “You, Jaxon, Flint, and Lia. That’s it. Four people. Which is why telling me that I can’t talk to one of the four people in this entire place who doesn’t treat me like I have the plague is total bullshit.”
“Oh, Grace.” She looks heartbroken. “Has it really been that bad?”
“Well, it hasn’t exactly been a picnic—even without the near-death experiences.” Still, she looks so distraught at my words that I can’t help but walk them back a little. “Don’t worry about it, Mace. I haven’t even started classes yet. I’m sure people will loosen up and stop staring once they have a chance to get to know me.”
She jumps on the walk-back. “They will, Grace. I swear. They just need to spend some time with you. We don’t get a lot of new people here, and most of us have been together a long time, even before Katmere.”
“I didn’t realize that.”
“Yeah. There’s another school that most of us went to before this one, starting in fifth grade. So if we seem aloof, that’s part of it, you know?”
“Yeah, but shouldn’t knowing one another that long make it easier for all of you to get along and not harder?”
“It should. And for a while, even, it did. I don’t know how to explain why things went bad, except to say that some awful stuff happened about a year ago and things got completely out of hand. I mean, on the surface it looks like everything’s fine, but once you dig a little, the damage is all right there. And part of what happened makes it nearly impossible for Jaxon and Flint to be on the same side of…anything.”
It’s pretty much the vaguest explanation anyone has ever given me about anything. And still it has me thinking, trying to piece together the very few things I’ve learned since I’ve been here. “Is this about what happened to Hudson Vega?”
The question is out before I can think twice about it, and judging from the look on Macy’s face, I definitely should have thought twice. “What do you know about Hudson?” she whispers so quietly that it feels like she’s scared to say his name out loud.
“Lia told me that her boyfriend died, remember? But then Jaxon mentioned his brother, and I put two and two together after I saw them arguing.”
“Did Jaxon tell you Hudson was dead?” I don’t think she would look this shocked if I told her I was flying back to San Diego under my own power, and suddenly all kinds of doubts assail me.
“Isn’t he?” If Jaxon was lying to me about something like that, I don’t know what I’ll do. I mean, what kind of person—?
“He is. Yes. It’s just that he doesn’t talk about it much. The whole thing almost destroyed him, and I just couldn’t imagine him discussing it with…” She trails off.
“A total stranger?”
“Yeah.” She looks a little guilty to be admitting it. “Not that you guys are strangers, I guess—”
“Sometimes it’s easier,” I interrupt. “Talking to your best friend about the worst thing that ever happened to you is excruciating. Talking to a stranger who doesn’t have any kind of vested interest…sometimes it doesn’t hurt so much.” It sounds weird, but it’s true. Just one of the things I’ve learned in the last month.
“That makes a strange kind of sense.” She puts the ice cream down and leans over to hug me.
I hug her back for a few seconds—until I feel the tears that are never far from the surface start to well up in my eyes. Then I pull back and give her a grin that says I’m totally fine, even if I’m not. “Maybe that’s why it seems like Jaxon is different with me. Because he knows I’ve lost someone, too.”
“Maybe.” She looks doubtful. “But if the attraction between you and Jaxon is because you’ve both lost someone… Just be careful, okay, Grace? The last thing you want is to become the chew toy in a game of tug-of-war between him and Flint. Because in the end, you’re going to be the one who gets ripped apart.”
I try to ignore her words—and do a pretty good job of it for the rest of the night. But once I’m in bed, with the lights out, I can’t help but think about what Macy said…and how it feels more like a premonition than a warning.
A heaviness creeps into my bones at the thought, pushing me into the bed, weighing me down until the simple act of rolling over and curling into a protective ball feels impossible. I settle for wrapping my arms around my waist and telling myself that she’s wrong. Even as a little voice inside me warns that she’s not.
24
Waffles
Are the Way
to a Girl’s Everything
I wake up slowly to the sound of a text coming in. I groan as I think about ignoring it, about staying wrapped up in my covers where it’s warm and comfortable and perfect. But I’ve been slow in responding to Heather’s texts since I got to Alaska, and that’s not cool.
Except when I roll over and grab my phone, I realize two things. One, it’s after ten in the morning, which means I slept right through first period. And two, the text isn’t from Heather.
And it’s not from Macy, either. Instead, it’s from a number I don’t recognize.
Unknown: How is your ankle?
Flint? I wonder as I brush my hair out of my eyes and sit up. Or someone else?
For a moment, Jaxon’s eyes—deep, dark, fathomless—come to mind, but I can’t believe it’s him. Not when he’s been so hot and cold the entire time we’ve known each other. And definitely not when he told me last night that we were going to do things the hard way—whatever that means.
Deciding to play it safe, I text back:
Me: Who is this?
There’s a long pause. Then:
Unknown: Jaxon
It’s only one word, and yet it somehow all but crackles with indignation. Like he can’t imagine that I don’t already have his number in my phone, just waiting for him to finally get around to texting me. I should be annoyed at the assumption, but I’m amused instead. So amused that I can’t help answering:
Me: Jaxon who?
Jaxon: I don’t know the punch line
Me: To what?
Jaxon: Whatever knock-knock joke you’re setting up
I burst out laughing, because he’s funny over text in a way he hasn’t shown me in person.
Me: I’m terrible at knock-knock jokes
Jaxon: Finally some good news
Me: Hey!
Me: How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?
There’s a long pause, where I can totally imagine his face. Then:
Jaxon: I didn’t realize octopi laughed
Yeah, that’s pretty much the response I expected.
Me: eye roll emoji
Me: Come on. Play along.
Jaxon: I just wanted to know how your ankle was
Me: Take a guess and I’ll tell you
Another long pause.
Jaxon: 17
Me: 17?!?!?!?!?!
Jaxon: Well, it’s obviously not 8 or it wouldn’t be a j
oke
Jaxon: And I don’t have a clue otherwise, so why not 17?
Me: double eye roll emoji
Me: Let’s try this again
Me: How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?
This pause is so long that I’ve just about convinced myself that I’ve blown it and he isn’t going to answer. But then:
Jaxon: How many?
I nearly drop my phone in excitement, and I’m grinning so hard that my cheeks hurt. Which is ridiculous, but I’m learning that when it comes to this boy, I’m ridiculous.
Me: Ten-tickles
Jaxon: That’s…actually pretty good
Me: Wow. High praise
Jaxon: Don’t let it go to your head
Me: Believe me, I won’t
Me: Triple eye roll emoji
Jaxon: What do you get when you cross a vampire and a snowman?
What? A joke? From the perennially serious Jaxon Vega? I can’t answer back fast enough.
Me: I have no idea.
Jaxon: Frostbite
I laugh out loud, because who is this Jaxon? And how do I keep him around?
Me: Halloween and Alaska all rolled into one, huh?
Me: Color me impressed
There’s another long pause, but this time something tells me not to give up on Jaxon quite yet. That he isn’t not texting because he’s put down his phone but because he’s trying to figure out what to say next. Which…can you say mind-boggling? I can barely imagine a Jaxon who doesn’t know exactly what to do and say in any situation.
Finally my phone dings again.
Jaxon: You promised to tell me about your ankle
It’s not a great segue from the fun conversation we were just having, but I go with it, because the alternative is not answering, and I don’t want to do that. At least not yet.
Me: I don’t know. I’m just waking up. My uncle must have decided I don’t have to go to class again today.
Jaxon: I’d say lucky you, but…
Me: What, falling out of a tree not lucky enough for you?
