Kissing Ted Callahan (and Other Guys)

by Amy Spalding

  * * *

  On Monday morning I’m not sure how I can act like a normal person when Ted walks toward my locker. We grin at each other, and I hug him because I’m so washed over with happy Ted thoughts I forget I don’t want Reid to see us. Of course, I’ll end things with Milo when I get the chance, but I’ll worry about that later. There’s nothing but Ted I want to think about today.

  Still, I pull it together and act like my usual self for the rest of the day. After seventh period I wait by Ted’s locker and force myself not to tackle him as he walks up.

  “Hi, Riley.”

  “Hi.” I grin like we are in on the best inside joke the world has to offer. I get why Lucy and Nathan are so annoying. “Do you want to hang out?”

  “Now?” he asks.

  “Yeah, now,” I say. “Do you have work?”

  “I’m free, yeah, we can hang out,” he says.

  “My little sister’s going to be home,” I say.

  “No one’s home at my apartment,” he says. “Not for a while at least.”

  “Okay.” I wait as he takes almost every book out of his locker. It seems like Ted is taking twenty classes instead of seven. “Do you really have that much homework?”

  “Yeah?” He laughs like I’m funny, which I love. “I just want to make sure if I want to study I can.”

  He is dedicated and nerdy and it’s awesome.

  I drive to his apartment, and as he lets me in I think about how this is the first time I’m going inside and not just dropping him off at the door. It’s crazy that not long ago he was just a guy I obsessed over and now this is a real thing. We’re a real thing.

  “Do you want soda or something?” he asks as soon as we’re through the door. I’m too busy looking around to think about beverages yet. Everyone else I know lives in a house and not an apartment. But now that I’m inside it seems just like anyone else’s place: cozy, with family photos and certificates of achievement framed on the walls.

  I sit on the overstuffed green couch while Ted gets us Cokes, and he sits down next to me and turns the TV on to Blind Love.

  “This one is great.” Ted points to the TV. “He falls in the hot tub at some point. His blindfold gets all wet and stuck to his face, but he can’t take it off.”

  “Oh my god, I haven’t seen it.” I love that he watches this show and remembers I watch it, too.

  The episode is as good as Ted promised, but of course I’m also thinking about sex and if it’s going to happen again and how I’d really like it to happen again. And then as soon as the episode’s over Ted kisses me and it’s like I Just Know.

  We stay on the couch kissing for a while, but once the clothes-coming-off stage arrives, Ted leads me down the hallway to his room, and this time is way better. Last time was amazing in that it was amazing that it happened, but right now is less awkward and uncomfortable, and of course it’s nicer being in Ted’s bed versus the guesthouse. And I planned ahead today; my underwear is plain and black and normal! It still came in a three-pack Mom bought me at Target, but it’s a move up from the Tuesday frogs. The condom also flummoxes us way less this time, and we seem like we’re lined up better or something.

  Also somehow I like Ted even more than I did only three days ago.

  Afterward we get dressed right away just in case we lose track of time and his mom gets home. Ted wants to go back to the living room and watch TV, but I have to be nosy and look around his room first. He has an FYF Fest poster tacked up, and a framed old-fashioned drawing of trains. I notice then there are also a couple of miniature trains on top of his bookcase, which is full of classics and graphic novels and essay books by smart-ass people.

  “What’s with the trains?” I ask.

  “I don’t know—I used to be into trains,” he says. “It’s geeky, I know.”

  “Everyone’s geeky in some way.”

  “My dad used to buy them for me,” he says. “When I was little. Our house had this small basement, and he set up a track to run around the whole thing. It was pretty cool.”

  I haven’t ever asked anything about the pronounced lack of a dad in Ted’s life, since there are things like Reid’s dad living in Chicago and having that be no big deal because he calls a lot and they FaceTime while watching the Cubs play on TV. But I guess sometimes it can be a big deal.

  “Sounds cool,” I say in a voice I hope isn’t sarcastic. “Where’s your dad now? If it’s okay I asked! Sorry if I shouldn’t have—”

  “Riley, it’s okay,” he says, but there’s a note of something in his voice that makes me put my hand on his arm like he needs steadying. “He died three years ago.”

  “Oh,” I say. It is all I know to say to him. It must have happened right before high school, because we didn’t go to middle school together, and I hate that I didn’t know this fact about Ted Callahan, and I hate that I don’t have more to say to him now.

  “Yeah,” he says.

  And I somehow know it’s all he can say, too. I give him a hug, and he leans into it really snug. It’s nice to feel like you’re exactly enough for what someone needs.

  “Anyway, I know trains are kind of dorky, but I still like them.”

  I should tell him I like that he’s a dork, but it doesn’t sound like a compliment, so I say nothing instead. “Do you want to go to the Unacknowledged Parrot show on Friday? I think you’d like them. I can send you some MP3s.”

  “I have work,” he says, “but I think I’ll get off in time. I can meet you there if that’s okay.”

  “It’s totally okay, yeah.” My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I take it out, I see that it’s Milo calling. Bad timing, Milo!

  “Are you okay?” Ted asks.

  I realize I am wearing the expression of a reaction shot in a movie about diseases. “Fine, sure, yes, sorry.”

  “Let’s go watch TV.” He takes my hand and gets me out of his trains room. After a couple more episodes of Blind Love, Ted’s mom calls and lets him know she’s running late. Obviously, we head back to his room to do it again.

  It’s late by then, and I figure Mom and Dad are annoyed with me, but I text and say I’m studying with a friend from Yearbook—only partially a lie—and we order a pizza. I could sit with Ted watching dumb TV and eating delicious cheesy pizza and messing around forever, but after the pizza’s gone, I kiss him good night and go home.

  I dig around in my purse for the Passenger Manifest while I’m checking my email in my room—awesome, Ted has sent me a YouTube clip of the hot-tub fall—and can’t find it. After a couple of viewings of the clip, I turn my full attention to my purse and, still, it’s nowhere to be found.

  “Crap,” I say aloud. A cold sweat appears on the back of my neck, like the time I came down with the flu out of nowhere. I dump out the contents of my bag, and while I locate my missing lip balm, there is no notebook.

  Oh, it’s probably just that Reid took it without asking. Yes! He’s gotten very comfortable with the contents of my bag. I grab my phone from the pile of discarded purse stuff and call him.

  “Yo,” he says.

  “STOP DOING THAT. So you have the Passenger Manifest, right?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m positive.”

  “Reid,” I say. My heart is pounding in every single part of my body, and not in the good, sexy way. My mouth tastes like foil. “It’s gone.”

  “You’re sure?” he asks in a calm voice. “Did you check your purse?”

  “OF COURSE I CHECKED MY PURSE,” I say. “WHY WOULDN’T I CHECK MY PURSE.”

  “Okay, okay,” he says. “What about your backpack?”

  “No. Good idea.” I unzip it and dump out its contents. There is no notebook, though I do find the granola bar I thought I lost last week. “Wait, check your backpack. Just to be safe.”

  “Hang on.” There’s a long pause and then the sound of a bunch of stuff hitting the floor. “No. What about your locker?”

  I let
relief wash away all the heart-pounding and foil-tasting and faux-flu-having. “I’m sure it’s there.”

  It’s never been anywhere but with Reid or in my bag, but right now I have to be sure it’s there.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  I AM POSITIVE THE PASSENGER MANIFEST IS IN MY LOCKER.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  The next morning Reid and I approach my locker with cool and calm attitudes, like this is CSI: Edendale High. I spin the dial to 23, then 17, and all the way around to 13. The lock clicks open just as it should.

  The Passenger Manifest isn’t sitting on top, but I decide that means nothing. I hand each textbook to Reid like a pro. Before long, the locker is empty and Reid is holding a stack of books and folders that tower almost past his head.

  The Passenger Manifest is nowhere to be found.

  “It’s lost,” I say. “It’s officially lost, Reid.”

  Reid’s face, at least what I can see of it, turns the palest shade of white, and the books spill out from his arms onto the floor in all directions. Ted rounds the corner and notices, which I’d normally love. But this is not the time for Ted’s help.

  “Hi, Riley,” he says. “Hey,” he says to Reid.

  “Ri.” Reid is in serious business mode. “We have a situation to deal with.”

  Ted is scrambling around picking up my books and folders. I wish I could enjoy his being gentlemanly.

  “Ri!”

  “Sorry, yes, I know, Reid.” I take my stuff from Ted and give him a smile I hope explains it all except not because he cannot know what’s going on. “Hey, we have to deal with this Gold Diggers thing, so I’ll see you in history class.”

  “Okay.” He gives me a smile I hope Reid doesn’t notice. Not that Ted and I can’t smile at each other, but I’m afraid we don’t look casual. I’m afraid we’re blasting True Love to the universe, and until Milo is officially in my past, I can’t blast anything to anyone. “See you, Riley.”

  I watch Ted walk away, and when I look back to Reid, I have a feeling he did notice. The whole world’s painted with signs pointing to Ted and me and our insane happiness with each other—or at least that we’ve seen each other naked.

  “What’s with that?” Reid stares at me. “I thought you said you didn’t know how things were going with him, and that’s why you’re still with Milo. It seems like things are going fine. And considering you apparently don’t even like kissing Mi—”

  “THE BOOK IS GONE,” I say. “Can we not talk about guys right now?”

  The first bell rings, and we stare at each other. We might be Rock Stars but we are not truants.

  “See you at lunch,” I say. “We’ll figure out where it is, right?”

  “Yes,” he says, but he is not smug Reid or calm Reid or any of the Reids I feel safe and solid around.

  In class I try to pay attention, but instead I unzip every section of my purse and backpack, even the ones that are barely big enough for my lip balm.

  “Are you okay?” Garrick asks me.

  “I’m fine,” I say in a way no one would believe. The Passenger Manifest is missing, and I have to accept that. I have to accept someone knows I messed around a lot with Garrick. Someone knows Garrick and Sydney had sex, even though I was sworn to secrecy over that. Someone knows even once I was falling hardcore with Ted I was afraid to end things with Milo because everything about him was so perfect and straightforward.

  Reid sits with Madison at lunch, so we can’t discuss THIS GIANT TRAGEDY. I don’t feel like sitting with Lucy and Nathan, and I don’t think it’s the day to start sitting with Ted at his table. So I go to the library and listen to Andrew Mothereffing Jackson on my iPod and hope the Passenger Manifest magically appears.

  It doesn’t.

  I have Yearbook after school, which I can’t skip, even though Reid texts me three times in seventh period to do so. I don’t want to slack off on my only extracurricular responsibility, but also I want to sit next to Ted and sneak him secret looks. Ted gives me a Batman Pez dispenser, which I make talk to him instead of paying much attention to our adviser, Ms. Balsavias. Ted is such a responsible student and person, but he has to cover his mouth, and there are tears in his eyes after the third time I make Pez Batman say, “ALFRED, THERE’S CANDY IN MY NECK.”

  “What are you doing now?” Ted asks me as we’re heading outside.

  “I can give you a ride if you want, but I have to go deal with a band thing,” I say, because Reid texted me from the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf on Hillhurst, where he’s waiting to talk to me. “I’m sorry, I would totally rather hang out with you.”

  “Band things are important,” he says.

  And it’s okay because we still get a little making out in before I drive him to his mom’s office. I do my best to fix my hair and unsmudge my lip balm so I don’t look like I’ve been doing exactly what I’ve been doing. When I get to the Coffee Bean, I spy Reid on the patio, but I go in to get a hot cocoa first.

  “This is bad, Ri,” Reid says as I walk out and join him.

  “I know, Reid, I know.” I exhale as I think of something wonderful. “At least the big stuff isn’t in there.”

  Reid’s eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean, ‘the big stuff’?”

  Oh, crap.

  I cover my face with my hands. “I, um, Ted and I are, like, actually kind of serious, I guess, and we… kind of did it.”

  “‘Kind of’?” His voice has gone all pinched. “What does ‘kind of’ mean?”

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” I say. “We did it.” (I don’t say “three times.”) “I didn’t want to make it sound like a big deal.”

  “It’s a big deal.” Reid is mussing his hair all about. The static building in it seems like it’s coming from inside, like electrical anger. “I can’t believe this. What’s the point of the Passenger Manifest if you leave something like that out?”

  “It was private.” Then I hate myself because is that why Lucy never said anything about Nathan? Am I hurting Reid as bad as Lucy hurt me? Am I somehow worse, though, because Lucy never specifically made a pact with me to tell me everything?

  “I shared private stuff with you,” Reid says. “You know that.”

  Tears are pricking my eyes, but I am determined not to have an outburst of emotion on the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf patio. “Reid, I know. But you should understand that’s something you don’t just want to write about.”

  “How would I?” Now it’s Reid whose face is hidden behind his hands. “Just great, everyone but me is—”

  “It’s not like we thought,” I say. “Just—everything’s the same. You know?”

  “No,” Reid says. “I don’t know. The Passenger Manifest is gone, we don’t know who has it and what they’re going to do with it or try to get out of us for blackmail, and I’m not going to be relieved that you having sex didn’t make it into the pages. Me never having sex definitely is all over that book.”

  “At least you got to second-and-a-half base?”

  “Shut up, Ri.”

  It puts me way closer to crying.

  “I’ll call you or email or something.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Reid, I’m—”

  “Whatever.”

  He walks off, so I sit there and finish my hot cocoa and try not to cry. I would text Ted but he’s interning, and also I feel strange going to Ted for comfort when a bunch of this is about him.

  All of this makes me want to barf, so I toss out my half-empty cocoa and head out. At home Ashley and her friends are making too much noise in the living room while Dad grades tests in the kitchen, so I escape to the guesthouse. I try to bang out every horrible fear that’s in me, but I don’t feel any better.

  * * *

  “I have a plan,” Reid says, barely looking at me. He came over after dinner but I know that doesn’t mean we’re already okay. “Let’s just be honest with everyone.”

  I’m not sure if this is his real plan or if he’s just trying to make use of dramat
ic irony. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m going to tell Madison what’s in there,” he says, looking sure of himself. “And Jane and Jennie and Erika.”

  I miss this Reid, actually.

  “If we tell everyone involved what’s in there, nothing worse can happen, right?” he asks.

  Reid has a good point. One day of walking through school waiting for this mystery villain to appear was more than enough. I’m ready for whatever’s next.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  The Passenger Manifest is officially gone, and my life as I know it is probably over forever.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  When I think about it, the easiest person to tell about the Passenger Manifest is Garrick.

  We’ve already officially ended things, and anything I wrote about him was exceptionally complimentary. Okay, he did tell me not to mention that he had sex with Sydney—and I did—but besides that I doubt he’ll be too upset.

  “Hi, Riley.” Garrick opens his door after school. “Syd is over, but you said you needed to talk, so… we can sit out here.”

  “Oh, okay.” I take a seat on the front steps. I want to peek through the windows to see if I can spot Sydney Jacobs being adorable, but that’d be creepy.

  I outline the gist of the Passenger Manifest to Garrick. He blinks in surprise a few times, but he nods and keeps listening.

  “So there’s definitely stuff about you in it,” I continue. “Mostly that you’re freaking awesome at everything to do with making out.”

  Garrick grins, but kind of like that’s old news. “Thanks.”

  “It probably sucks for you that whoever has it knows that happened.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Why would that suck for me?”

  “Just, you know, Sydney’s… and I’m…”

  “My therapist said this would happen!”

  “What did she say would happen?” I ask. “A weird stupid girl would write about you in a notebook?”

  “You’re not weird and stupid,” he says. “Well, you’re not stupid. She said—it might not be easy for people—for girls to know I went out with Syd.” He shrugs. “Because, you know.”