by Katie Klein
I frown, eyes dropping, hesitating. “Yeah, well, what’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong with that is that it’s not how the real world works. That’s why, sometimes, it’s good to be flexible. When you don’t get what you want, you make other plans.”
I don’t respond to this. So yeah, maybe I’m not used to hearing “no,” but that’s because I don’t wait for things to happen; I make them happen. Getting into Harvard is the first big thing I haven’t been able to make happen, and it sucks.
I pick up my cheesesteak and take a bite. The meat and cheese melt in my mouth, dripping onto my plate, delicious.
“Can I give you a little free advice?” Parker continues, lips pressed in a cautious line. “Do with it what you want, but I think you should forget Harvard and move on. Yeah, it’s a huge bummer, but you can’t just up and abandon everything because one little thing didn’t go exactly as planned.”
I set my sandwich back down and wipe my mouth quickly with my napkin, digesting everything he’s saying, feeling my temper flare. “Speak for yourself. I mean, speaking of abandoning things. You’re just going to bail, anyway. Why should I listen to you?” I ask, still chewing.
“That’s different: I’m not bailing.”
“What do you call it then, Parker? You said yourself you’re leaving. What are you going to do? Where are you even gonna go?”
“I call my plans moving on, too. Just in a different way.” He scoots to the edge of the chair and reaches for his own sandwich, tone defensive.
“I know. And I get it. I just . . . I don’t understand why college can’t be part of that.”
He frowns. “I thought this whole day was about you. We aren’t supposed to be talking about me and my problems.”
“It’s just sad, Parker, that’s all,” I say, voice softening. “You’re so smart.”
“Yeah, well, so are you.”
“So where does that leave us?” I ask.
“Two very smart people without an absolute, concrete plan for the future,” he confirms.
I smile.
“But before all of that, two very smart people who are probably going to be in the deepest shit imaginable when they get home,” he clarifies, brow creasing. The words are left hanging in the air between us. “But you know,” he continues after a few, quiet seconds, “the moment—good, bad, whatever it is—doesn’t last forever.” He shrugs. “You’ll figure something out. I’ll figure something out. Life goes on.”
* * *
We return to school just after four o’clock in the afternoon. Parker’s motorcycle is the only vehicle left in the student parking lot.
“Back to reality,” I mumble as he pulls my car into the space beside it. “But the bright side is I had a really great time today.” I clutch the postcard of the tree-lined street Parker paid twenty-five cents for at one of the gift shops. It’s of the same neighborhood we ate at and shopped in. The photo was taken early in the morning, the streets are empty, and a few rays of sunlight peek through a low-lying fog. “One of the best days I’ve had in a long time, even,” I finish.
“I’m glad.”
We climb out of my car, stretching our legs. Parker leaves the engine running. He was right: I’ll have to stop by the gas station on my way home. He grabs his bag and helmet from the back seat as I circle to the driver’s side, thinking that this was one of the most perfect days I’ve ever had. And not necessarily because of what I did or where I went . . . but who I was with.
I spin around to face him. “It’s just that, I know I’m gonna have to explain everything now, and I don’t know what to say.”
He looks up at me. “About Harvard?”
“Yeah,” I reply, folding my arms.
He moves in, standing almost on top of me, his dark eyes grasping mine. “Tell them that Harvard made the biggest mistake imaginable and didn’t admit you. But it’s okay, because you’re still gonna go on and do great things.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple. No one is going to think any less of you—especially not your family and friends. And if they do . . . their priorities are screwed up, not yours,” he finishes, voice soft and eyes gentle. His words send flutters rippling through the pit of my stomach.
My breath hitches in my throat as Parker tucks my hair behind my ear for me, tracing the contour of my face. My eyes close, and I lean into his hand. His thumb moves across my lips, brushing them, and when I open my eyes he’s inching closer. I feel that familiar pull—that part of me I keep failing to silence—and let myself imagine what it would mean to kiss him.
Then, like Ethan and Mattie on the sled, rushing toward that tree, an image of Blake . . . my mom . . . Savannah . . . flashes through my mind. I swerve, jolting to reality.
I spring back, bumping into my car door, heartbeat erratic. I steady myself, and clear my throat. “Um, thank you. Again. For everything.” I go to tuck my hair behind my ear, but Parker has already done it for me. I run my fingers through it anyway, cheeks simmering with an excited, embarrassed, and frustrated heat all at once.
He smiles ruefully, backing away. “Any time.”
Chapter Twenty
On my way to the gas station, I finally pull out my cell phone. When I turn it on, I have twenty-one missed calls and nine voicemail messages. I groan. Maybe I should’ve left it on. The first is from Savannah. She speaks in hushed tones, and I can hear school hallway static behind her.
“Okay, I’m just warning you that Blake is about to call. It’s second period and come to find out you have apparently bailed today, and rumor has it some people saw you leave with Parker Whalen. I’m not judging you, Jaden, but your boyfriend is pissed. Half the school is talking about it. Just . . . get your story straight, first, I guess.”
The message beeps.
The next is from Blake, short and to the point. “It’s Blake. Call me.”
The message beeps.
The next is Ashley. “Hey, girl. Did you seriously skip school today with Parker Whalen? Because if you did, I don’t know why I wasn’t informed. Cell it.” Beep.
Another message from Blake. “It’s Blake again. Just trying to figure out what’s going on today. Call me.” Beep.
“Jaden, honey, it’s Mom. The school called wondering if you were sick. I told them you weren’t feeling well this morning, but went to school anyway. Where are you? Give me a call back.”
I groan.
“Jaden, it’s Mom again. You’re not at school and you haven’t come home. Where are you and why isn’t your cell phone on? I better hear from you soon.” Beep.
“It’s Savannah, again. Call me.” Beep.
“Jaden, it’s Blake. Why aren’t you returning my calls?” Beep.
“Jaden, it’s past lunch and I haven’t heard from you. You’re grounded the moment you walk through the front door.”
My cell phone trills just as I’m pulling into the gas station. Savannah’s name lights up the screen. I answer it.
“Oh my God, Jaden! We’ve been trying to call you all day!” I move the phone away from my head, ears ringing.
“I know. I just . . . had a moment, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry . . . does ‘moment’ mean ‘complete and total loss of discretion’?” she asks.
I smile. “Yeah, something like that.”
“So you were with Parker?”
“Yes, I was with Parker.” There’s no sense lying. It sounds like everyone already knows, anyway, and it’s not like I can keep something like this from my best friend.
“And?”
“And what?”
“Do you mind explaining this a little better? I mean, Blake is going crazy, and your mom called—she’s totally freaked. I don’t know why you couldn’t of just left a note.”
“It wasn’t planned.”
“What happened to you?” she asks.
“I was. . . .” I trail off, and let out a huge sigh. “I was having a bad day, and Parker, I don�
��t know, took me away for a while.”
“Where did you go?”
“Hamilton. The zoo. Lunch. We did some shopping.”
“Oh my God,” she mumbles. She lets out a tiny laugh, like she can’t trust her own ears. Parker Whalen? Lunch and shopping?
I smile. “I know.”
“I don’t get it, though. Skipping school? Come on, Jaden. That’s not like you at all.”
I take a deep breath. At some point, I’m going to have to start talking. “I got my letter from Harvard yesterday,” I finally tell her.
Her tone instantly lifts. “Really?” she asks. She pauses for a moment, getting it. “Oh. Really.”
I sigh. “Yeah. Really.”
“So, um, I guess things didn’t exactly work out like you thought?”
“You could say that.”
“Oh, no! Jaden, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I reply, shrugging. “That’s life, right?”
“But I know how important it was to you. Does, um, anyone else know?”
“No. And that was kinda the problem, I guess. I didn’t tell anyone, so when I got to school this morning I was already upset. And then I ran into Parker, and it was obvious I was upset . . . so he was the first person I told. You’re the second.”
“You should’ve called yesterday! I would’ve come over!”
“I know, I was—I am, actually—really bummed out about it.”
“So . . . is this something I should keep to myself?”
“No point. I’m going to have to tell my parents. I know my mom is furious. And well, I guess the fewer people I have to tell the better.”
“You know I can help with that,” she replies. I can tell she’s smiling, trying to make me feel better.
“I know. I’m counting on you. Just let everyone know I don’t really want to talk about it. No apologies or pitiful looks, k?”
“Got it.”
“So, um, what did Blake say?” I ask after a few, quiet moments.
“Nothing. He didn’t say a word all day. It was really awkward.”
“He knows,” I confirm.
“Everyone knows. Please be honest with me, Jaden. Do you like him?”
I know she’s talking about Parker. I sigh again. I want to give her a complete and honest answer to this question. I want an answer, period. But in the end: “I don’t know,” I confess.
“You can’t do this to Blake,” she says calmly. “If you need time to think about things . . . or whatever . . . you can’t just keep leading him on. It’s not fair to any of you.”
“I know,” I reply, inhaling deeply. “You’re right . . . I just . . . I don’t know. I mean, I might not have anything to worry about after today. It’s probably not even my decision to make. I’m probably as good as dumped.”
“Possibly.”
Another silence falls between us. At that moment, Blake is the least of my problems. I still have to get gas, and face whatever wrath waits at home. I tell Savannah I’ll see her in the morning and turn off the phone for the last time that day.
* * *
I didn’t anticipate how nervous I’d be when I finally park my car at the street in front of my house. I also didn’t count on Sarah being home—or Daniel, or Phillip. I just assumed it would be something they’d hear about later—not be part of. I take a series of deep breaths, trying to calm my racing nerves. There is nothing I cannot handle. My hands tremble as I reach for the front door knob, but before I can turn it, the door swings wide.
I open my mouth to speak, but the words become trapped in the back of my throat: nothing comes out.
“Get inside,” Daniel demands.
His voice is like ice on my skin, the chill escalating. My mouth clamps shut, and it’s all I can do not to burst into tears at the sound of it. He’s livid, noticeably worried . . . which, knowing him, probably pisses him off even more. I’m not sure which is worse: my mom and dad being mad at me, or Daniel. No one has ever been this kind of angry at me. Maybe that’s the worst part of all this: if I’ve never been told no before, I’ve also never been in serious trouble.
I follow Daniel into the dining room, where everyone except for my dad is sitting around the table. The wall clock, slowly ticking the moments away, reverberates throughout the room.
I take a brief inventory. Daniel? Fuming. Mom? Mad. Sarah? Concerned. Anxious for me, even. Phillip? The same as always—leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, only wanting a front row seat to the show. I will myself not to roll my eyes and take another deep breath. “Mom,” I begin.
“No. You sit down,” she commands.
I swallow hard, and pull out the chair at the head of the table. Daniel sits down beside me.
“Before I say anything else, I want you to know that you are grounded,” she says.
My eyes well with tears. I bite into my lower lip, nodding.
“You are forbidden to do anything outside of school. Anything that is not related to school. There are no extracurricular activities. You’re done . . . for the rest of the school year. That means no Blake, no Savannah, no ball games, no walks, or charities, or fundraisers.”
I nod again, the warm tears spilling over to my cheeks.
“Do you have an explanation for what happened today?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest, face grim. “At this point it doesn’t even have to be good.”
I shake my head, wiping my runny nose with the back of my hand. “No.”
“You can imagine how surprised I was to get a call from the office, Jaden. You didn’t look well this morning, but being sick never kept you from school. This is the first time you’ve ever missed perfect attendance and, good excuse or not, I’d like to know what was behind your decision to skip classes and not tell anyone.”
I can’t lie. It’s a small town. They’ll find out one way or another. It’s better for me to tell them everything than for them to find out through a third party. Besides, there’s no telling what kinds of rumors will circulate around school. My reputation as a conscientious Bedford citizen is officially over.
“I, um, was having a bad day,” I begin quietly, “and decided I couldn’t go to school.” I offer a small shrug, as if it were this simple.
“And you didn’t come home?” she asks, not understanding.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because. . . .” I swallow hard. “I thought I needed to get away for a while. So . . . I left town.”
Mom shakes her head in disapproval. I can’t read her expression. Disappointment, maybe? It’s as if she’s seeing me—truly seeing me—for the very first time, in all my disgrace and imperfection.
“I’m afraid to even ask this, because I think I already know the answer, but does this have anything to do with Parker Whalen?”
“You better say no,” Daniel interjects.
“Daniel,” Sarah says.
I lower my eyes, unable to meet anyone’s gaze. This is where it gets ugly. “Yes,” I murmur, lip trembling.
Daniel slams his fist on the dining room table. I jerk to attention at the sound. “I knew it! What the hell is wrong with you, Jaden?” he shouts.
“Daniel, stop,” Sarah begs.
I burst into fresh tears, sinking under his anger. “I . . . I know! I probably shouldn’t have done it!” I cry.
“Probably? Probably? You are so effing naive sometimes! What were you even thinking?” His eyes flash, jaw tightening.
“I . . . I wasn’t. I just . . . I couldn’t go inside.”
“Why not?” he demands to know.
I open my mouth to tell them about Harvard, the words poised on my lips. But seeing their faces . . . Mom and Daniel so angry, so disappointed. . . . “I just . . . I needed to get away, that’s all.”
“This had to be his idea,” Daniel states.
“It was mutual,” I correct, not wanting Parker to take the entire fall. “I went with him.”
“Where did you go?” Sarah asks.
�
�Hamilton,” I whisper.
Daniel shoots to his feet, chair scraping across the hardwood floor, holding his head in disbelief. “You let a guy you don’t even know drive you all the way to Hamilton? That’s over an hour away, Jaden! What if something would’ve happened? Jesus Christ! No one could even reach you today!” His voice grows louder with every panting breath.
“You know,” Phillip interjects calmly, “this isn’t the first time one of us has skipped school.”
I look over at him, surprised. We all do.
“That’s not the point,” Mom says, eyeing him suspiciously. “I punished you boys for the same.”
“Yeah, the days you knew about.” He sits up and folds his hands, resting them on the table. “Come on, you had to know we skipped school way more than that.”
“That’s not the point,” Daniel repeats. “Jaden is better than that. We were stupid. She knows better. She’s going to Harvard for God’s sake.”
I flinch, cringing, but before I can correct him . . .
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Phillip replies. “Maybe she’s tired of being Good Little Jaden all the time. I mean, God. No one can be that perfect. I don’t think she’s ever been grounded in her life. She’s never made a single bad decision. When were we not proud of every little thing she’s done? At least she’s acting like a normal teenager.” He sits back in his chair. “Frankly, I’m relieved. I was beginning to think she was a freakin’ prude.”
I feel a half-smile tugging at the corners of my lips, appreciating the effort he’s making in defending me.
“She’s grounded now,” Daniel says, matter of fact.
Phillip rolls his eyes. “She’s eighteen years old and this is the first time she’s ever been grounded? Come on, you guys. So she skipped school with a guy we don’t know . . .”
“Who has a pathetic reputation,” Daniel points out. “She was warned about him, and now he’s bringing her down.”
I notice this argument is no longer focused completely on me; they go on as if I’m not even here.
