Meg & Linus

by Hanna Nowinski

  “Did you find her?” he asks.

  I breathe in, breathe out, and slowly shake my head, my eyes stinging just a bit. “No. She was already gone. Alyssa says she went home. I think she hates me now.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “She wasn’t happy with me. You should have heard her. I’ve never seen her that upset before. And she was right. I should have told her. I can’t believe that I didn’t. She’s my best friend. I don’t think she trusts me anymore.”

  “That is entirely possible. But she doesn’t hate you. It’s impossible to hate you.”

  “That’s very sweet of you, thank you.”

  “Just telling it like it is,” he says, and starts the car.

  We have some hanging out to do with some of his—our—friends. I don’t really feel up to it, but I can’t say no to this. Danny seemed really excited about it and I guess it is a nice thought. It’s not their fault that I had a fight with Meg.

  I need to apologize to her. I think she also needs to apologize to me, but … well, we just need to talk about this. If she still wants to talk to me. But we’re not going to accomplish anything tonight. Maybe I’m still too angry.

  Anyway, I promised that I’d go out with the drama club people after the performance and I don’t like breaking my promises and I don’t feel like explaining why I can’t.

  But tomorrow, I’m going to have to really find a way to fix all of this.

  Once we’re seated around the table at the pizza place I get out my phone, and then I just sit there and stare at it. I could text her. But what would I even say? I feel bad for looking at my phone while in company, but I just can’t stop thinking about this. I’ve never fought with anyone like that before. I don’t like it.

  “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?” Danny asks quietly.

  “Well, yes. She is my best friend.” I shove my phone back into my pocket and take a sip of my water. “If she hates me forever now, that would just really, really suck.”

  “I still don’t think that she hates you. I think you both just need a little time. You’re not going to solve this tonight. But I don’t think it’s possible to hate you.”

  “Why are you always being so nice to me?” I want to know, lowering my voice so that our friends can’t hear us, even if they do seem to be deep in conversation themselves. And dammit, I am blushing again.

  He props his head up on his arm, looks at me with an expression I can’t quite decipher. “Have you really not figured that out yet?”

  I don’t think I have. But the way my stomach does this weird little swooping thing tells me what I want the reason to be.

  Chapter 53

  Meg

  MOM HAD TO GO TO the museum because she needed to use the computer there, so my house is empty pretty much all Saturday. I’m grateful for that, because I have some serious thinking to do and I would like to not be interrupted while I’m doing that. There are performances today and tomorrow night, so the weekend isn’t completely mine, but I’m good at keeping to myself when I want to. And I’ll do my best to get most of my thinking done before I have to meet up with the others backstage.

  I have the coffee ready and have even opened a fresh box of cookies, and with that and my laptop I sit down at the kitchen table and then don’t quite know what to do.

  This is all my fault and I’m well aware of it. If I hadn’t had the genius idea of interfering and meddling in my best friend’s love life, none of this would have happened. But if I broke our friendship, that means that I have to find a way to repair it. And I’m just not sure how to do that, because I’ve never had a fight like this before. I’ve never had anyone be mad at me like this. I’ve never given anyone a reason to.

  Maybe, I think, the best place to start is to make a list. Lists help. And while I’m at it, I can try to figure out whether I need to apologize to Sophia as well because I dragged her into all of this and I’ve pretty much been ignoring her texts and e-mails ever since I found out she’d been talking to Linus.

  I still just don’t get why they had to do that. But they are the only friends I have. If I don’t forgive them for this, then I’ll really be alone. And as much as I value my quiet time, I’m really just not good at being alone.

  * * *

  Monday morning I feel tired—I’ve spent my entire weekend thinking but I haven’t really been able to come up with a solution to anything. Maybe I’m still too angry. I don’t actually feel that much like apologizing. At least I managed to come up with a good excuse why I couldn’t go for pizza with everyone after the play on Sunday night. It’s December. Everyone tends to just believe you when you tell them you’re coming down with something. And I didn’t want to spoil Linus’s fun. So I went home instead.

  I should have found a way to make up with him by now, but I don’t know how. Every time I tried to text Linus, I couldn’t do it at the last second. I have no idea how many text message drafts I deleted over the course of the last few days. But there were a few. And after the performances I managed to avoid him so things wouldn’t be awkward. The silence between us is seriously getting to me.

  I see Linus by his locker, and he’s alone, and I do think about walking up there to talk to him the way I do every morning. But I can’t.

  So I look away and walk off toward my own locker, but I can see him watching me as I look back before turning the corner.

  We have another three performances this week, Wednesday night, and then Friday afternoon and the last one on Saturday. It’s going to be a busy week.

  “Good morning,” Alyssa says, and I look up, surprised to find her walking next to me.

  “Morning.”

  “We missed you last night,” she says.

  “Yeah, sorry, I just—”

  “Homework, yeah,” she says. “I get it.”

  “I know it’s super lame, but—”

  “Hey, no.” She grins. “You have to defend your valedictorian spot. That’s not lame. But … you’re coming to the party after our last performance on Saturday, right?”

  I nod. “Of course.” I can’t miss everything. And I’m still hoping for a part in the next play. I should probably stay on their good side. Also, making a few more friends can’t hurt. Maybe I’ve been wrong to stay in the background so much to give Linus some room to hang out with them. I’m just not good at this.

  “Good,” she says. “See you later?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  She smiles again and I stop by my locker, watch her walk away. I don’t know if we’re friends. But at least she keeps talking to me, and she’s nice. And … kind of cute, with her crazy long hair and that constant amused sparkle in her eyes and the way her smile always starts off a little crooked, the left corner of her mouth always twitching up first. Even if all of that’s completely irrelevant because I don’t need another disaster like Sophia and the way that ended. But … I’m almost looking forward to meeting her backstage tomorrow and working with her. That’s something, I guess.

  Monday crawls by slowly and Tuesday is a blur of activity with an extra rehearsal to keep things fresh in our minds and trying to squeeze in some studying in the library between classes and drama club. Wednesday is much of the same, only that we have a performance that night instead of rehearsal. On Thursday I’m so exhausted I just get through my classes and then go straight home to take a nap before getting started on my assignments. Even with the play going on, we still have exams and the holidays coming up and I’m starting to feel a little stressed out. Maybe it’s good I didn’t get a part. I can’t imagine how Linus gets it all done.

  But now all that’s left is just Friday afternoon and then Saturday afternoon and then it’s finally, finally over and the world will go back to normal.

  I haven’t had a chance to talk to Linus all week and I really miss him so much, but maybe I’ll figure out a way once all of this drama club stuff is over. I hope so. I just want my friend back. Nothing’s the same without him.

 
Chapter 54

  Linus

  THE WEATHER IS GETTING COLDER all the time now and it’s snowed a few times already. Not so much that I can build a snowman or a snow alien. But enough to look pretty when you open the blinds in the morning and look outside.

  I love winter. I am already looking forward to winter break, to snuggling up under a mountain of blankets with a cup of hot chocolate and a pile of books or a nice game or a movie. Even being inside is more fun when the weather outside changes.

  It’s Thursday and I’m meeting Danny in the library again—we haven’t gotten much tutoring done since that Saturday after Thanksgiving, what with the play and everything. I feel a little guilty for that because I know how important it is to him to catch up in math. But we don’t have a performance today and no other clubs or appointments or anything, so we can get in one more afternoon of tutoring before the holidays.

  I’m first in the library today since I have hurried here, and I start spreading books and notes strategically across the tabletop. I am prepared! Danny has been so nice, constantly telling me that I am a good teacher, the least I can do is try to live up to it. I haven’t really felt nervous about spending time with him for a while now, but today I am feeling a little fluttery again. I can’t stop thinking about what he said at the pizza place, about me figuring out why he’s being so nice to me. I just wish I knew for sure what he’d meant by that. Wanting to spend time together is something that friends do, but—it’s also something that more-than-friends do, and I just wish I could make sense of all of this without feeling silly for daring to have hope.

  He enters the library just minutes later, and I offer him a wide smile as he quickly crosses the distance between the shelves and slides into the chair next to mine.

  “You’re here before me,” he says.

  “I have a reputation to uphold! I am always ridiculously early everywhere; it was seriously starting to hurt my pride that you kept showing up earlier than me!”

  “I wasn’t aware that we were in competition over who was the most punctual.” He sounds amused.

  “Everything can be a competition if you have the right attitude,” I inform him.

  “True.”

  “Are you ready to do some calculus?”

  “Actually—” He squirms a little in his seat, lashes fluttering as he looks past my head at some spot on the wall. “There’s, um. I wanted. I was wondering—”

  “If today’s not good for you, we can meet up anytime over the weekend,” I offer. “It’s not a problem! Well, I mean, Saturday afternoon we have the play, but I’m free in the morning and on Sunday and—”

  “No,” he says. “I mean, yes, I would like to meet up over the weekend, but—uh.”

  “You’re just full of ambition, aren’t you?” I laugh proudly. “If you don’t end the school year in the top five percent of the class—”

  “I wasn’t actually thinking—I mean, I don’t want to study over the weekend.”

  I frown at him. “Okay. Then what—”

  “I was hoping we could see a movie on Friday. After the play, since it’s a matinee. And maybe do dinner after?”

  I nod enthusiastically. “Oh, of course! Absolutely! Who else is coming along?”

  “No one, I hope,” he says.

  “What do you mean?”

  He sighs, turns a little in his chair so that he’s facing me, takes another deep breath. “Linus, would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow?”

  “I—don’t understand. Like, just us? As in—” It hits me out of nowhere what he’s asking me and I can feel my eyes widen, breath hitching in my throat. “You—oh. You mean—”

  “I am trying to ask you out on a date, you doofus!” He lets out an embarrassed little groan, hides his face behind his hands. “And it’s not going well, apparently. I’m so sorry. If you don’t want to, we’ll never have to speak of it again—”

  “Of course I want to,” I manage, a little breathlessly. “On what planet would I not want to?”

  “I, uh—really? You want to?”

  “Do you want to?”

  “I asked you!”

  “Yeah, but—” I wave my hand at him. He’s just sitting there all cute and kind and dreamy and I still cannot really understand what’s happening right now; things like this don’t happen to me. “Are you really sure? I mean—you don’t have to, if you’re just being nice, you don’t have to, I—”

  “Linus!” He leans forward in his chair and I snap my mouth shut, stare back at him, and I don’t even dare to blink because I don’t want to miss a moment of this.

  “Yes?”

  “I do want to. I have wanted to for quite a while.”

  “You—wait, what? Why?”

  “I like you,” he says. “Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

  “Because you’re kind of perfect,” I say before I can stop myself.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Uh,” I say, suddenly feeling shy. “I just meant—”

  “I like you,” he repeats. “And if you want to, I’d really love to spend more time with you, and not just to study or to carpool home after school.”

  “Technically that was never carpooling, that was just you providing a very entertaining taxi service free of charge,” I mumble.

  He laughs. “Has anyone ever told you how entirely adorable you are?”

  I blush darker. “No, I can’t say that they have.”

  “Well, then.” He catches my eyes again, smiles carefully. “I think it’s about time that someone started doing that regularly.”

  I am not sure how we’re supposed to go back to math after this, but I figure it’s his own fault if I’m distracted today—he can’t spring something like this on me and expect me to keep it together afterward. He could have waited until after tutoring if he expected to learn something today.

  Not that I am in any way opposed to this turn of events. Not. At. All!

  * * *

  The rest of Thursday flies by and I’m really surprised that we actually manage to get any studying done. I’m feeling … flustered is the word, I guess. And a bit like I’m sleepwalking. I can’t quite believe what’s happening yet.

  He drives me home after tutoring and this time when he smiles at me as we say good-bye it means something different and I’m so … I don’t have a word for it, but my palms are all tingly and I can’t stop grinning.

  Chapter 55

  Meg

  FRIDAY MORNING I HONESTLY CONSIDER faking a stomach flu and staying home.

  I smack my palm down onto the alarm clock harder than necessary to silence it and pull my blankets up to my nose, curling in on myself.

  I’ve just had it with this week. I’m feeling exhausted. And it’s not the extra stress from having to sit backstage while everyone else is performing. It’s … everything. I’m feeling overwhelmed and lonely and the thought of having to go out there into the world and interact with people is almost too much.

  But on the other hand, it’s just today and tomorrow. And then this play will be over and it won’t be long until winter break, and bailing on them today would probably only make me feel worse than just battling on and somehow making it through this day.

  And, I tell myself, as I miserably stare at the display of my alarm clock, if it turns out that I really can’t do it, I can still fake sickness later and go home. But I know myself and I know I’ll feel horrible if I don’t go at all. I might not have the part I wanted in all of this, but they’re still counting on me. And the thought of actually doing what I accused Linus of secretly contemplating—faking sickness and staying home—makes me feel awful.

  I do feel nauseous, but I guess that’s just the crippling guilt I’m feeling for the whole Linus situation. But I deserve that. I messed up. Badly. I guess it’s only right that I’m feeling like a despicable human being for that.

  No, I decide, throwing off the covers and sitting up on the edge of my mattress. Feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to f
ix this. Even if all I want to do is hide, I don’t think I’ve earned the right to do that.

  And now I’m feeling sorry for myself again. Ugh. What is wrong with me?

  I take a shower and get dressed and do my best to brush the knots out of my hair, which is somehow looking particularly orange today, and even that annoys me. But there’s nothing I can do about it right now, other than put on a hat so my head doesn’t look quite as … glowy. It really doesn’t mirror my mood today.

  Mom is down in the kitchen microwaving a stack of pancakes left over from yesterday by the time I finally make it downstairs.

  “Morning,” she says.

  “Morning,” I grumble back at her, walking over to the fridge to get the syrup. Day-old pancakes are really only edible drenched in syrup.

  “You look cheerful,” she comments, but I can tell from the way she looks at me that she’s worried.

  I don’t want her to worry. I just don’t know how to snap out of this. “I’m okay.”

  “You guys have another performance today, right?”

  “Yeah, this afternoon,” I tell her. “I’ll once again be standing backstage holding a clipboard.”

  “Well, I’m still looking forward to seeing it tomorrow,” she says.

  “You don’t have to. Seriously. I won’t be upset.”

  “I would be.” She looks at me. “You know what you’re doing is important, don’t you? I know it’s not what you wanted, but—”

  “I know.” I sigh. “I do know, I promise. It’s just—maybe joining Sophia’s favorite club right after she dumped me was a stupid idea after all.”

  “Oh, honey.” She gives me a quick side-hug as I walk past her toward the coffeemaker, before the microwave pings and she goes to retrieve our pancakes.

  Maybe it really was a stupid idea. Maybe I’m not mad about not getting a part at all, maybe I’m just upset because everything reminds me of Sophia, everywhere I go. Or maybe I’m upset about everything at once. I really don’t know. But I guess eventually I’ll have to figure it out so I can really work on fixing it.