Me, Just Different

by Stephanie Morrill

  Jodi’s eyes sparked with jealousy. “I don’t know. Skylar?”

  “Like I told Alexis—nothing,” I said as Lisa’s head fell back with laughter. She touched Connor on the arm, one of her favorite flirting moves. I narrowed my eyes. “I can’t believe Connor would let her do that. Obviously, she’s using him to make John jealous. Connor hates games.”

  Jodi swiped the maraschino cherry from Alexis’s drink. “Maybe not when they involve girls who look as good as Lisa.”

  “Red is a lousy color on her,” Alexis said.

  Jodi responded with a hearty nod. “Absolutely. It washes her out.”

  “She could maybe get away with a deep red, like crimson.”

  “Or brick.”

  “But not bright red. On Oprah last week, they were doing makeovers and—”

  That’s when I heard it—Connor laughing.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m getting another Coke,” I interrupted as I walked away.

  An actual laugh from Connor was rare. He smiled constantly and chuckled when he found something amusing, but the only people who made him laugh were his brothers, his dad, and me. Now he dared to do it at my birthday party because of something Lisa said. Lisa! The girl wearing glitter eye shadow as if this was a game of dress up rather than my eighteenth birthday party.

  I headed for them, determined to break up their conversation, though I had no idea how to achieve this. Halfway there, Eli stepped in my path. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Beyond him, Connor excused himself from Lisa and headed for the food table. Finally.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Eli pushed his hands deep into his pockets and rocked onto his heels.

  With Connor nearby debating cookie options and Lisa wandering toward Jodi and Alexis, I could focus. “Sure. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I just haven’t had much of a chance to talk to you tonight. How’s your birthday been?”

  “Fine.” I took a sip of my Coke. “My dad was out of town most of today, and Mom was over here getting ready for the party, so Abbie and I just hung out.”

  “That sounds great.”

  I shrugged. “It was okay.”

  “You look beautiful, by the way.”

  I smiled and fiddled with an earring. “Thanks. You look nice too.”

  He didn’t respond for a moment, just gave me that smile, the one that could confuse a girl’s heart. “So, listen—”

  “Picture!” Abbie interrupted. She waited a second before snapping the shot, then pranced off.

  I blinked away the spots the flash left behind. “What were you saying?”

  Eli shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Just that I’ve been thinking a lot about us recently.”

  I gripped my cup tighter. “Are you breaking up with me at my own party?”

  He laughed. “Of course not. The opposite, really.”

  “What’s the opposite? Asking me out again?”

  Eli reached for my hand. “I think we should tell your mom about us. I think we should ask for permission to be a real couple.”

  I pulled my hand free and glanced at my mom. She fussed with votives at a table across the room. No way could she hear this conversation, but still I lowered my voice. “Eli, I can’t do that. My mom would go crazy.”

  He leaned closer. “Isn’t it worth the risk if we can be together? Skylar, I love you.”

  I needed to do something, say something. I couldn’t just blink at him with my mouth hanging open every time he said he loved me.

  Connor materialized at my side. He took hold of my arm. “Skylar, I need to talk to you.”

  I glanced at Eli, who looked as off-kilter as I felt. “I’ll be right back.”

  Connor dragged me to a relatively private corner. “Whew, that was close, wasn’t it?” He gave my back a friendly slap. “I could tell you had no idea what to do.”

  I took a deep, calculated breath. “What are you talking about?”

  “Eli. I heard him saying all that stuff about telling your mom. That’s just crazy. I mean, doesn’t he realize your mom would kill you?” He stopped talking when he noticed I wasn’t exactly thanking him. “You did want out of that conversation, didn’t you?”

  I crossed my arms. “As a matter of fact, no, I didn’t.”

  “Skylar, the guy just blindsided you at your own birthday party.”

  “Well, at least he’s talking to me.”

  His forehead creased. “Do you mean me?”

  “Of course I mean you.” I kept my voice as low as I could. “You’ve hardly said a word to me all night. I thought you were in a lousy mood, but then I heard you laughing with Lisa. Laughing, Connor. Laughing.”

  “Why do you keep saying ‘laughing’?”

  I pressed my fingertips to my temples, hoping to relax my left eye before Connor noticed it twitching. “What do I have to do to get your attention?” I could feel the tears building. This was not good.

  “Lisa and I were just talking.”

  “What about earlier when you blew me off? Did I do something? Are you angry?”

  “Of course not,” Connor said, his voice soft.

  “Then why won’t you talk to me? Why won’t you even look at me? It’s my birthday, Connor.”

  He hesitated. “Let’s not talk about this right now, okay?”

  “No.” I grabbed his arms, desperate to keep him there with me. “Best friends talk to each other, and aren’t we best friends?”

  “That’s my problem, Skylar,” he snapped. “You’re my best friend, but tonight you look so incredibly beautiful I can hardly function around you.”

  Two seconds ago, I wanted to hit him. Now I laughed, overjoyed.

  Connor’s cheeks burned crimson. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not laughing at you.” I pressed his hand between mine. “I’m just surprised. I’ve been hoping—”

  The rising chorus of “Happy Birthday” floated across the room and drowned out my admission. Abbie walked toward us carrying a glowing ice cream cake. She grinned at me. “Make a wish.”

  I didn’t need to. I’d just gotten what I wanted.

  13

  Connor and I had only a moment’s privacy during the remainder of the night. He used it to say, “Wait to open my present until you’re alone.”

  “Okay,” I said, and that was it. We didn’t even have time for a private good night. Several minutes after I opened gifts, I caught sight of his Tahoe pulling out of the parking lot.

  I hunted down Abbie, who had gone to Mom’s car for a box of trash bags. “Did Connor and Chris just leave?”

  “Yeah. Pretty suddenly.” She offered a careless shrug. “Who knows?”

  I eagerly awaited the party’s end so I could rip into Connor’s gift. I stared at its generous size and fantasized about what the tidy wrapping job concealed. Of course, I knew I should ground my hopes. Gifts from guys often left something to be desired. Case in point, Eli gave me his old baseball jersey. He claimed he thought I’d like something “fun” to wear to his games, but clearly he meant it to brand me as his.

  How had I ever thought I could make it work with him? Eli was a nice enough guy, and he’d been a great friend. For some other girl he’d be perfect, but he’d never be right for me. Of course, with two unreturned “I love yous,” he likely understood that now. Maybe he too realized we weren’t good for each other. Maybe things between us could go back to the way they were before that stupid party.

  In the privacy of my room, as I ripped away the silver paper, I couldn’t help thinking of that summer night when I’d first met Connor. He’d been so aggravating, the last guy I ever thought I’d fall for. And maybe that’s how it happened. Because I never viewed him as a prospect, I didn’t worry about keeping him at arm’s length. I allowed him to see me—the real me, not just the Skylar I was in front of my friends—and because he accepted me despite my flaws, he’d proven himself worthy of my heart.

  My breath caught when I tore away t
he paper. Connor hadn’t disappointed. I ran my hand along the lid of the sewing box crafted with glossy maple wood. My name was stenciled on the lid, and the note inside read, “Something to help you make your crazy outfits.”

  It was perfect. Just like him.

  My cell phone buzzed and I grinned at the sight of Connor’s name. “Thanks for the sewing box,” I answered his call. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Oh, uh . . .” It appeared I’d thrown him off. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I love it. So . . .” I couldn’t stop smiling. “Quite a night.” “Can I come over?”

  I looked at the clock. “It’s kinda late—”

  “This won’t take long. I just . . . I need to see you.”

  I clutched a hand to my chest, afraid that otherwise my heart would burst right out. I’d never felt this way with Eli. “I guess I can sneak out.”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  “Okay, well I’ll—” I stopped talking when I realized he’d hung up.

  I examined myself in the mirror. Of course my hair looked frightful since I’d just unpinned it from its elaborate style. I did my best to smooth it, then tugged on a stocking cap. After two coats of mascara and a dab of lip gloss, I crept downstairs and out the front door.

  Connor stood on the sidewalk, blowing on his hands. He appeared to have walked.

  “Thanks for doing this.” He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. “I know you could get in a lot of trouble.”

  The smile glued to my face all night widened. “I guess you’re worth it.”

  “Look.” He swallowed. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

  Just like that, my smile evaporated. “What do you mean?”

  “I think you took something I said the wrong way.”

  My teeth ground together. “I know what it means to have a misunderstanding. I don’t know what I misunderstood.”

  But that was a lie. I could see it on his face.

  “When I said you were beautiful, I didn’t mean . . .” Connor trailed off. I’d never seen him so uncomfortable.

  “Just say it, Connor.”

  “I didn’t mean I wanted to be your boyfriend.”

  I glared at him, but my cheeks still ached from smiling. How quickly things could change. “You said you were attracted to me. If you’re attracted, why wouldn’t you want to be my boyfriend?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “No it isn’t. If you like someone, you want to date them.”

  Connor held eye contact with me. “Not necessarily.”

  “You’re just scared,” I said. “You’re afraid of ruining the friendship, but things will be even better. You’ll see.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  He looked around the dark neighborhood and lowered his voice, as if someone might be listening even this early in the morning. “Please don’t make me say something that’s just going to hurt you. Let’s leave this alone, okay?”

  I planted my hands on my hips. “You know that’s never going to happen.”

  Connor paced the width of the sidewalk. “I’m such an idiot.” He tugged at his hair. “Why did I tell you I think you’re beautiful?”

  “I already knew you thought that.”

  He didn’t say anything, just continued pacing. I tried to be patient, but I had limits. “So . . . what now?”

  He stopped moving, looked at me. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what happens now?”

  “We’re friends. Best friends.”

  I clamped my teeth over my lower lip until I knew I could speak without crying. This was embarrassing enough without an emotional breakdown. “I don’t understand. If you’re attracted to me, then what’s the problem? Is it my mom?”

  “No.”

  “Jodi?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then what?”

  Irritation seeped into his voice. “Stop pushing, okay?”

  “I won’t. I want you to tell me, honestly, why you won’t date me.”

  Connor’s hands raked through his hair over and over. Finally, he said, “As a favor to me, I’m begging you to not make me discuss this anymore.”

  “I’m a tough girl, I can take it.” But Connor knew how soft I was inside.

  He tapped his toe against the concrete several times and looked away from me. “You’re just not my type.”

  “I’m not your type,” I repeated slowly. “What makes me not your type?”

  He shook his head. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Of course I don’t understand.” For a moment I watched him, so stiff and distant. “What about when you changed my tire?”

  His eyes met mine. “What are you talking about?” But he knew.

  “We had a moment.”

  “Maybe, but—”

  “Maybe! You know it happened.”

  Connor took a deep breath. “Like I said, you’re my friend. That’s it.”

  “You’re just scared—”

  “No I’m not.”

  “You are. I just don’t know what of. I know you like me. Everyone says you do, and I don’t understand why you’re resisting this so much, when—”

  “Because I’m only attracted to your looks.”

  There. He’d said it. I’d begged him to tell me and now he had.

  “Oh.”

  “After what happened with Jodi, I knew I never wanted to date someone just because she’s attractive.” Connor stayed perfectly still and calm, as if I were a wild animal that might turn on him with one wrong move. “I love being your friend, Skylar, and yes, you’re one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. But I can’t have you as my girlfriend.”

  I couldn’t blink, breathe, or even think clearly. Two options lay before me—devastation or anger.

  “Skylar, please say something.” In the dark, he couldn’t read my face and it had him nervous. I let him stay that way for a little bit. “Skylar,” he said again. This time he reached for me, but I stepped back.

  “No.”

  “I understand you’re upset. I don’t blame you. And I know this will probably change our friendship, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “We aren’t friends,” I said, my voice low and venomous. “We never were.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  I laughed. “When were we ever friends, Connor? You’ve made it very clear tonight that my only redeemable quality is my looks.”

  “That’s not what I said.” Connor sounded furious.

  “Well, don’t worry, Connor. I won’t force you to spend any more time with my horrid personality.”

  I turned as sharply as I could in my pink fuzzy slippers and left him there on the sidewalk with his mouth hanging open, as if he wanted to say more.

  I didn’t cry until I got to my bed. The worst of it was that he hadn’t even tried to stop me.

  In my dream that night, Connor and I sat on the grassy hill at Sheridan’s, like we had right after Fall Ball. He looked at me with tenderness and reached for my hand. Then his face filled with horror, and he scrambled away.

  “Connor!” I called after him, but he kept going.

  Confused, I opened my hand to see what had scared him. My palm bore a gaping hole into my body, into my soul. I ran my finger through it, pulling away cobwebs and a black ashy substance, as if I rotted away on the inside.

  14

  As if it wasn’t bad enough that I couldn’t get out of going to church and therefore seeing Connor, after the service Amy clapped her hands together and said, “You should all come over for lunch!”

  I hoped Mom and Dad would decline. Instead, Mom replied with a warm, “Why, that sounds wonderful,” and we loaded into the cars.

  “You know, I really don’t feel so good,” I said as we drove. “Maybe you can just drop me off at home—”

  Mom turned and gave me such a cross look that I didn’t make another attempt to escape.


  The Rosses’ home smelled like fall, a warm mixture of firewood and the stew Amy had left to simmer while they were at church. Everyone crowded into the kitchen except me. I lagged in the living room, staring at my surroundings. That feeling came over me again, the same one I’d had the first time I entered the Rosses’ house—this home was different than any other I’d spent time in. I hadn’t been able to identify the fitting adjective, but now it involuntarily rolled off my tongue. “Authentic.”

  I glanced around. Had anybody heard me talking to myself? Just Cevin. He pressed his paws against my leg and offered a friendly bark, as if to confirm my conclusion.

  How would it feel to be authentic? To be the same in the dark and the light, the same whether I was with my pastor or with Jodi. To be like Connor and the rest of his family, who weren’t afraid of people coming close to them, because they hadn’t built up an image to hide scared behind.

  There was no question as to why I hadn’t been able to recognize it my first time in this house. I hadn’t known such authenticity existed. Not until Connor called me what I was and so desperately did not want to be—hungry to belong and fit in.

  “Are you okay?”

  I turned. Connor stood in the living room with me. Beyond him, the voices of our families blended into sweet background music. “I’m fine.”

  He stepped closer and pressed his fingertip between my eyebrows. “Your face is drawn right here. It gets like that when you’re about to cry.”

  “Honestly, I’m not about to cry.”

  “You always say ‘honestly’ when you’re lying.”

  I remembered then that I wasn’t supposed to want him standing so close to me, that I’d decided to be mad rather than hurt. Wordless, I brushed past him and went to the dining room.

  “Skylar, how do you like your American History class?” Brian asked as we ate. He and Amy believed in involving everyone in table conversations, especially Abbie and me. Normally I appreciated their efforts, but today I didn’t feel chatty.

  I shrugged. “It’s fine. Better than taking any of the other history classes.”

  “Connor says your teacher can be challenging to work with.”