Girl Against the Universe

by Paula Stokes

  I don’t want to be like this. Ever.

  Jordy pulls me into his arms, and my face ends up in his chest. His shirt is drenched with sweat, but I don’t care. Beneath the fabric he’s solid, a wall to lean on, and I am in danger of collapsing. I wrap my arms around his neck. His heart beats gently in my ear.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he says. “And it’s no big deal. Penn texted me on the way to the ER to say Mom was overreacting and she was fine.” He strokes my back gently. “Please don’t cry.”

  I peek up at him. “But you were competing for money and now you had to forfeit and your parents are probably mad and I’m so sorry. I’m messing with your future.”

  “I didn’t have to do anything. I wanted to because my sister means more to me than a tennis match. Plus I was losing anyway.” He sits down on the floor next to me. “I’m tired, Maguire. I feel so out of it lately. I don’t know what my problem is, but I would’ve lost tomorrow if not today. So please don’t be upset.”

  I nod. “Go see your sister.”

  “I am.” He squeezes my hand. “You want to come with me?”

  I shake my head. “I can’t. Not right now. I’m too freaked out. I don’t even want to drive by myself for a little bit. Tell her I’m sorry.”

  He gives me a long look. “Are you going to be able to get home okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m just going to sit here for a little bit and calm down.”

  “Good idea,” Jordy says. “Call Daniel, maybe. See if he can fit you in. I think he works two weekends a month.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “I’ll call you later and let you know what the deal is,” Jordy says.

  I watch him leave and then lean back against the wall, rubbing my temples with my fingertips. Jordy shouldn’t call me. He should stay away from me. And if he won’t, then I should stay away from him, for his own good.

  CHAPTER 20

  Jordy calls me twice in the afternoon, but I let the calls go to voice mail. Then I turn off my phone. I want to call him back, but I’m afraid to, like maybe every conversation we have brings me one step closer to really hurting him. Mom made me an appointment with Daniel tomorrow. Hopefully, talking to him will help.

  Only I should’ve known better than to think I could avoid Jordy by turning off my phone. He shows up at my house around 8:00 p.m.

  I hear someone knock on the door, and immediately my stomach crashes down into my feet. I slip out of my room and tiptoe down the hallway to see Jordy standing just inside the front door. He’s dressed to impress in jeans and a collared shirt, his hair looking professionally disheveled.

  “I apologize for coming over so late, ma’am,” he says. “My name is Jordy Wheeler. I’m friends with your daughter. Is she around?”

  Ma’am? Late? It’s 8:00 on a Saturday. He’s kind of laying it on thick.

  Mom’s got Jake in one arm. My sister is sitting on the floor looking up at Jordy like he’s some sort of storybook character.

  I slide around the corner. “I’m here.”

  “You have a visitor,” my mom says with a smile.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hey,” Jordy says.

  “Why are you so tall?” Erin asks.

  He smiles at her. “I’m a giant.” He turns to me. “Can I talk to you?”

  Erin’s eyes get wide. “Like from a fairy tale?”

  “Sort of,” he says. “But I’m a nice giant, not a mean one that steals your gold and livestock.”

  “What’s livestock?”

  “Cows,” I tell her. I turn to my mother. “Mom, we’re going to go outside for a few.”

  “Okay.” She flips on the TV to distract my little sister so she won’t try to come with us.

  Jordy follows me through the front door, and we sit on the porch. The sky is mostly clear, the stars glittering high above our heads. Dear Universe, I think. Fight fair. Mess with me all you want, but leave my friends out of it.

  “You okay?” He bumps his shoulder into my shoulder. He smells good, like maybe he splashed on a little cologne for this occasion.

  “Yeah.” I stare out at the grass.

  “Any particular reason you dodged all my calls?”

  “I know what you’re going to say, and I’m afraid hearing it won’t help.”

  “Fair enough. I don’t have to say anything.” He taps one foot repeatedly. Now we’re both staring at the grass. “Go for a walk with me,” he says after a couple of minutes. “Just around the block.”

  “Okay.”

  We get halfway around the block before Jordy finally breaks the silence. “Like I said, my sister is fine. So if you’re blaming yourself, you can stop.”

  And just as I thought, hearing that doesn’t make me feel better. “Yeah, but she still got hurt. And you had to forfeit your match.”

  “I didn’t have to. I chose to.” He sighs. “Why are you so upset about me forfeiting, anyway? It’s just a tennis match.”

  “Because I’m sick of people getting hurt in my presence. I’m sick of feeling like I can’t do anything or go anywhere without having it end in some kind of disaster.”

  “Too bad,” Jordy says.

  “Too bad what?” I snap.

  “I was hoping you were going to say you got so upset because you like me.” He jams both hands in his pockets. His shoulders slump forward.

  “You know I like you,” I protest. “You, Penn, and Jade are basically my only friends.”

  His eyes latch on to mine, and for a few seconds neither of us speaks. “You know that isn’t what I mean,” he says finally.

  I look away, feigning interest in something across the street. Weird tingly moments and wobbly stomachs aside, I can’t handle the idea of Jordy really liking me. I don’t want to hurt him by rejecting him, but I don’t want to hurt him with my bad luck either. Plus he’s not allowed to date and I’m not interested in being . . . whatever. He still manages to get plenty of action. What does that mean? Why do I even care?

  “How’d you get out of the house?” I ask. “I thought you weren’t allowed to go anywhere.”

  He flushes. “I told my parents I was going to the drugstore to get stuff for Penn.”

  “Oh.”

  “I already got it. I just wanted to stop by and make sure you’re okay.”

  I kick at a pebble on the sidewalk. “I’m okay.”

  “There’s something else—something I have to tell you,” Jordy says.

  A red convertible pulls up to a stoplight nearby, and the driver looks over at us. Farther down the block, a couple of kids on skateboards are heading our way and show no signs of slowing down. Jordy steers me off the sidewalk and into the parking lot of a gas station. It’s not very private, but at least we won’t get mowed down by middle school kids.

  I cross my arms. “What is it?”

  Jordy turns me to face him. He rests one hand on my waist. I tense up a little as I wait for him to speak.

  “This has never been so hard before.” He rakes his other hand through his hair. “Probably because I know what you’re going to say, and it’s not going to make me feel better.” He forces a smile. “I like you, Maguire. I like you a lot.”

  “Jordy . . .” I trail off. A lock of hair blows in front of my face, and he brushes it away. He leans in, resting his jaw against my temple, his lips somewhere in my hair. I can’t feel them, but I know they’re there. All I have to do is turn my head, lift my chin, and he’ll kiss me.

  No one has ever kissed me before, but that’s not the real reason why my chest hurts and my hands are shaking. “I like you too,” I say finally. “You’ve been great to me, and you make me laugh. You make me forget the things I worry about. But what if I’m not ready to forget, you know? I’ve been okay by myself for so long and now I’m doing this therapy stuff and it feels like maybe even that’s too much for me and . . . I’m scared.” I pull back from him and train my eyes on the ground.

  “I know you’re scared,” he says. “I want to help you.�
��

  “I don’t know if you can. I think I have to do some of this stuff on my own. I’m sorry.”

  He nods. “Okay. I understand.”

  Wordlessly we both turn back toward my house.

  My brain takes note of every single thing we pass. A fire hydrant. A Navy guy walking a dog. Three girls wearing suede Ugg boots with short skirts just like Kimber did the first day of tryouts. A handful of leaves blows down the sidewalk. I watch them tumble end over end, my stomach matching their motion. This isn’t a five-second check. This is an endless check, a way not to have to feel the disappointment radiating off Jordy. We get back to my driveway, and he pauses at the end of it.

  “Nothing else to say, I guess?”

  I glance over at him. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “Forget it,” he says. “It’s probably just a stupid crush. I’ll get over it.”

  Crush? On me? I am so completely unprepared to process this information that I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. “What about Kimber?”

  “What about her?”

  “I thought you two . . .”

  “No,” he says sharply. “You thought wrong. We kissed once, but that’s it.”

  The idea of this near-perfect boy having a crush on me is almost laughable. Not that there’s anything wrong with me, aside from my curse, but Jordy could have almost anyone. Why not pick from the pool of willing girls instead of go for the one who’s too screwed up to let herself care about anyone? He’s a competitive athlete—it has to be about the challenge. But what if it’s not that? What if he really likes me? “Maybe we should stop helping each other.”

  “I don’t think we should.” He crosses his arms. “And I don’t think you do either.”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I hate the thought of hurting you.”

  “You didn’t—”

  “So you say. But next time could be different.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” The wind blows his hair forward into his face.

  Behind him, the moon shines almost full in the sky, its glow illuminating the sloping edges of the nearby roofs. Across the street, Jordy’s car is a glimmer of black on black.

  He fishes his keys out of his pocket and turns to me. “Look, whatever. If you don’t want my help anymore, then I’ll back off. But don’t give up on your therapy challenges over what happened at the tournament, okay? I can already see changes in you, Maguire.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you drove my sister across town, and she said you did fine.”

  “It was scary. I had to tell her about my phobia to make her be quiet,” I say. “But yeah, I do feel a little less scared about driving with other people.”

  “I’m glad,” Jordy says. But he doesn’t sound glad. He sounds hurt.

  I hate knowing I’m the one who did that to him.

  That night I dream I’m in psychology class, and Jordy is there too. Ms. Haynes starts talking about survival instinct, about how we’d all behave differently if we were in a plane crash together. How some of us would find inner strength and others would succumb to baser instincts and weaknesses.

  Kimber raises her hand and says that in order for anyone to survive, the weak people would have to be left behind. “Like Maguire,” she says. “She’s so scared of everything. All she’d do is bring everyone else down.” Jordy is sitting next to her in Colleen’s usual chair. He turns around to look at me and nods in agreement. His expression is exactly the same as it was when he left me in my driveway. Disappointed. The whole class starts nodding and pointing at me—even Jade. Ms. Haynes makes two columns on the whiteboard: “SEEK RESCUE” and “LEAVE BEHIND.” She writes my name in the second column. She starts writing everyone else’s name in the first column.

  I wake up, relieved to find myself tucked beneath my comforter. It’s still dark so I try to go back to sleep, but I can’t stop thinking about Jordy, about what I gave up because I was afraid. I remind myself that I’m supposed to be focusing on Ireland, not boys. On getting stronger so I can honor my family. But still, the look in Jordy’s eyes reminded me of my mom’s look when we talked the other day. I hate knowing that I’m letting people down. Curling onto my side, I squeeze my eyes shut again. But the tears come anyway, silent and then louder.

  There’s a soft knocking sound. My eyes flick open as my bedroom door creaks inward. Tom is standing in the doorway wearing plaid pajama pants and a Doctor Who T-shirt.

  I sit up in bed. “What is it?”

  He steps inside my room and closes the door halfway behind him. “I got up to feed Jake and I heard you from the hallway.”

  “Oh.”

  He rubs at his beard. “Do you want me to wake your mom?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand. “Just stupid girl stuff.”

  Tom pulls the chair from my desk over to the bed and sits down so we’re eye to eye. “I’ve never been very good at stupid girl stuff,” he says. “But I can try. Your mom told me you had a visitor tonight. Does someone need to kick that kid’s ass?”

  It’s weird, Tom being here like this. He’s the polar opposite of my dad in so many ways. Bearded, broad-shouldered, nerdy, a little overweight. He met my mom when she backed into his car in the parking lot of a grocery store. I wonder if it was this gentle, comforting side of him that won her over. “Apparently someone needs to kick my ass.” I bury my head in my hands.

  “Why’s that?”

  I peek at Tom through my fingers. “Jordy is a good guy. No, he’s an amazing guy. And he told me he likes me.”

  Tom clears his throat. “So I do need to kick his ass.”

  I drop my hands to my lap and smile. “No you don’t. Because as soon as he said that, I basically pushed him away.”

  “Yessss.” Tom pumps his fist.

  I frown. “Not helping.”

  “Sorry. That’s just every dad’s dream answer.”

  I don’t say anything for a second. Hearing Tom refer to himself as my dad always tears me up inside. On one hand, I feel like no one but my real dad should ever get to say that. But I know with Tom it comes from a good place, that he’s trying to make me feel included, that he doesn’t want me to feel like an unwanted piece of the past that everyone else is stuck with.

  “And now I worry I’ve offended you,” he says softly.

  “No. It’s okay. I . . . like it. Does it offend you that I call you Tom?”

  He rubs the bridge of his nose. “I mean, I prefer ‘Sir,’ but I can live with Tom.”

  I smother a laugh. “No being funny at two a.m. We’ll wake everyone up.”

  “Seriously, though, Maguire. If you ever have tips, I’m all ears.”

  “You mean like stop wearing black socks with white shoes?”

  Tom snorts. “Now who’s being funny?” He pauses. “I’m always worried I’m being not enough of a dad or too much of a dad to you, that no matter what I try I’m doing it wrong.”

  “You realize I’m going to use this weakness against you now, right?”

  “Noted,” he says.

  “But FYI, you’re doing great.” I smile at him. “You should get some sleep before Jake wakes up again.”

  “Good idea.” He stands up and quietly slides the chair back under my desk. He pauses just inside the doorway and turns back to me. “It’s hard to let yourself be happy, isn’t it?”

  I ball the fabric of my comforter in my hands. “What do you mean?”

  He leans back against the door. “Your mom. You, Erin, Jake. I have everything I ever wanted, but someone had to die for me to get it.” Even in the darkened room, I can see his broad shoulders slump inward a little. “I figure maybe it’s similar for you.”

  My eyes fill with tears again. I slide out of bed, cross the floor to him, and throw my arms around his waist. He’s almost as tall as Jordy, and my head fits right beneath his, my chin quivering in the general vicinity of his chest.

  He pets my hair. “Shit. I gu
ess I should’ve quit while you were making fun of my socks.”

  I hug him even tighter. I never once considered that the past hurt Tom too, but it makes sense. Of course he would struggle with knowing that my mom never would have married him if my dad hadn’t died, that so many of the things he loves are a product of tragedy.

  “It is hard to be happy,” I whisper. “It’s like I’m betraying them. Like I got to live, so that should be more than enough. Like wanting to feel good is almost greedy. God, you’re one of the only people who gets it. I had no idea.”

  He pats my back tentatively. “Yeah, I don’t think we’ve ever talked like this before.”

  I shake my head. “Me neither.”

  “Maybe we can do it again sometime when it’s not two a.m.”

  “I’d like that,” I say. And I mean it.

  CHAPTER 21

  Session #9

  “I can’t believe you do sessions on Sundays,” I tell Daniel.

  He turns off his music. “I don’t have a receptionist on the weekend, but when your clients are kids and teenagers, you have to work around a lot of school schedules.” He takes a sip of coffee. “I’m glad I could fit you in, because your mom made it sound urgent. What’s going on?”

  I swallow hard and start to tell him about what happened to Penn, but tears form in my eyes and I can’t get the words out.

  He hands me a box of tissues. And waits.

  “Tell me about your music,” I say suddenly. I blot my eyes and then ball the tissue in my hand.

  “You’re not here to talk about my music.”

  “I know, but I need a minute. I need to think about something other than me. So that guitar music you’re always listening to—is it you?”

  “It’s my girlfriend,” Daniel says.

  “Is she sad? It always sounds so sad.”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “I guess that’s why I’m always playing it, trying to find her in the chords, trying to understand her. I’m not very creative. Sometimes I feel like our brains are wired completely differently.”