by Cecily Wolfe
“You did what? Are you kidding?”
Chapter Eleven
I don’t know why he doubts me, but he hunches over, pulling his legs back so he’s sitting cross legged, and I relax my own to imitate his pose, turning so I’m facing him more.
But I stay quiet, waiting for him to calm down and explain his reaction.
“Josh didn’t like getting dumped. What a surprise.”
He shakes his head and rolls his eyes.
Everyone likes Josh, or so I thought.
“Do you have a problem with him, Eli? I can’t remember anyone saying you two got in a fight or anything.”
It’s hard to avoid rumors at our school, even when we were in middle school and supposedly more sheltered by teachers.
Since I moved here, Eli has been on his own. No group of friends, always getting into trouble.
Did something happen before I came?
“He’s a jerk, that’s all. One of those people who always gets what he wants. I’m happy he didn’t this time.”
Josh has never been anything but incredibly sweet to me, so . . .
Except for last night, when he didn’t get what he wanted.
I look away, back at the flames and the little sparks they shoot off again and again, wondering at how quickly Josh’s temper flared, how his face flushed and his features scrunched up like a disappointed child.
But he’s not a child, and the way he kissed me . . .
“Mia?”
Eli’s voice is gentle and quiet, and I blink away my thoughts, clearing my throat as if that might help.
“I did see a different side of him when I told him I just wanted to be friends. I mean, I understand, I guess.”
He grunts, but doesn’t say anything, so I go on, surprised at what I’m hearing from my own lips.
“I’ve had a crush on him for like a year, and he seemed so unreachable. But Megan and I met on the newspaper staff, and her boyfriend is best friends with Josh.”
Now that I think about it, how many times have I seen Alex tug Josh aside and whisper to him, as Josh would pace or cross his arms, his eyebrows furrowed.
Does Alex calm him down when he gets mad?
I’m probably reading too much into it.
Eli continues his silence, and I turn to face him again.
He’s staring into the fire, his expression stony.
“I’m sure it was obvious I was interested in him. Maybe I was too interested, or excited. Anyway, I probably led him on, and now I’ve realized my feelings aren’t romantic. I hoped we could be friends, especially because Megan and Alex . . .”
“Oh, no. The kiss of death.”
Eli’s tone is sarcastic, but I can’t stop the tiny laugh that bubbles up inside me, releasing some of the tension in my chest.
I hold my hand over my heart, feeling it rush under my palm as my breath comes in short pants.
“Hey, are you okay?”
When I close my eyes, Eli leans in and touches my arm as I nod.
I wish Kayla was here. I wouldn’t have to explain any of this to her; she would understand.
She would know what I should say, how I should act.
What am I going to do in school on Monday?
Band room. Monday. Before lunch.
The words of the mysterious text leap from my memory, and I’m tempted to tell Eli about the note and how we’re trying to reach the person who wrote it through the newspaper.
My breathing evens out as my attention shifts to the teacher and student situation, and I smile at Eli.
He looks worried, so I shake my head and roll my eyes.
“Sorry, got carried away there, I guess.”
I have no idea what I mean by that.
Carried away by worrying about how to deal with Josh?
By wanting my sister here to help me?
“Does that happen a lot?”
Now that he asks, I take a moment to consider this.
“No, I don’t remember it happening before. But I’m upset over this Josh thing, so I’m sure that’s why. Also, I miss my sister.”
That last part was not something I planned to share with him, or with anyone, but it’s out in the open now, and I wait for the questions.
But he doesn’t ask, and we both watch the fire in a companionable silence as I realize his hand is still on my arm.
It falls to the carpeted floor after a bit, and then his mom comes in with two cans of A & W root beer, my favorite.
I find myself wishing winter was over and we could go to the root beer stand and get root beer floats.
We.
“You kids are so quiet. I was worried you might have fallen asleep.”
I look around the room, suddenly aware I’ve been here for a while.
“Thanks for this,” I tell her as she slides the cold can into my hand. “Do you know what time it is?”
She shrugs.
“Let me check. Do you need to be home at a certain time? We can always drive you, although I suspect you live pretty close.”
I thank her again as she walks away, and she calls out the time a few moments later.
When I blow out a breath in relief, Eli cracks open his root beer and taps on the side of the can a couple of times.
“I love this place. We always go the first day it opens every spring, although it's later and later each year.”
I hold the can close to my chest, although it’s icy cold and my hand feels numb.
“The coney dogs. I haven’t had one for a couple of years, but I love that sauce. And onions.”
“And cheese.”
We both laugh at the same time, and Eli nods to my root beer.
“Drink up.”
He holds out his can as I pop the top from mine, and lifts his to tap the side of it.
“To coney dogs, and opening day.”
I smile at him before taking a sip, the sweetness and chill of it hitting my empty stomach like a reminder of better days, of something safe and happy, of my sister and our life before she died.
“So what’s up with your bad boy act?”
The question comes out before I know I’m going to ask it, and I wish I could take it back.
But he’s answering before I can apologize.
“I'm not interested in whether or not other people like me. Or in socializing, that kind of thing.”
He shrugs, but he’s not looking at me, so I don’t know if he’s telling me the truth or not.
“What’s wrong with that? Making friends, getting along with others? It seems like you want attention.”
His bark of laughter surprises me, and I take another sip before considering I might want to take it easy, since one can has more calories than I need to be inhaling this late in the day.
“You have me there. I just want to have a good time, see how everyone responds, maybe. I don’t know.”
That makes no sense. If he doesn’t care about socializing or having anyone like him, why would he want to have anyone’s attention in the first place?
“Everyone is the same. It’s boring, and I don’t want to be a part of that.”
“So you’d rather be alone?”
My voice is quiet, soft like Eli’s was earlier when he was the one questioning me.
His smile is slow and sweet.
“I’m not alone, am I?”
I set the can of root beer down a few inches away from me so I won’t knock it over, and rub my damp hand on my jeans.
“No, not now.”
He sniffs a little, then turns to me.
“And neither are you.”
I realize I don’t have an answer to the Josh question, except maybe I do.
As far as Eli is concerned, Josh isn’t worth worrying about in any regard, so I suppose he thinks I should leave things as they are after last night.
But I’m not comfortable with that.
Just because Eli doesn’t care what anyone thinks doesn’t mean I can be like that, too.
“I wis
h there was a way to smooth things over with Josh, though. I know you think he’s a jerk, and after what happened, I’m wondering if you aren’t wrong."
His eyes narrow and he lifts his hand as if he might touch my arm again.
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
I stare at his hand as he pulls it back, and I wonder if my reaction is giving him the wrong impression.
“No, not . . . exactly.”
As I scrunch my eyes closed, I wonder why I had to answer like that.
Why couldn’t I have just said no?
It’s too easy to talk to Eli, and I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about anything important since Kayla.
I swallow hard and turn my head, finding a wall of framed photographs of Eli growing up, along with a few family portraits of him with his parents.
“What did he do, Mia?”
Josh didn’t really do anything. Kissing me like he did . . . it was just a kiss, and I’m freaked out by it because I’ve never been kissed like that before.
That’s all. It’s not a big deal, certainly nothing to get Eli upset about.
“He kissed me, but I didn’t want him to. And it wasn’t . . ."
Ugh, what am I saying?
The last thing I want or need is for Eli to say something to Josh at school. Eli has had detentions and suspensions already this school year for a variety of rule violations, and from what I can tell, taking the fall for others who do the same.
Why does he do that?
“It wasn’t what? I suspected he was pushy with girls, but I’ve never heard a definite confirmation.”
He sounds like a detective, and the image of him sneaking around in his black jacket, hiding from the light as he collects clues, makes me smile again.
“It was just a kiss I didn’t want, that’s all. It wasn’t like him, and it freaked me out. But it’s done and over with, and I guess I’ll have to figure out a way to deal with him on Monday.”
Eli sighs heavily, and I watch him rub the top of his head before threading his fingers through his hair.
He leaves his hand tangled in the dark mop as he turns back to me.
“Can I ask about her? It’s none of my business, but I can see she’s really important. I think we all knew you had an older sister before you moved here, but I’m not sure how we found out. We also knew we shouldn’t ask you anything.”
I watch the fire again as a small piece of wood tumbles to the ashes, and wonder how much I should tell him about Kayla.
Although I was relieved he didn’t ask about her earlier, I realize it doesn’t bother me so much that he’s doing so now.
Maybe I need to talk about her, because it’s been so long, and I’m not allowed to say her name at home.
Maybe that’s what I need most right now.
Chapter Twelve
“Kayla was seven years older than me, so she was always there. I thought she would always be there.”
The room is so quiet I can hear the bubbles in our root beer pop and fizz, and I smile at a memory that stops my train of thought.
“She loved Diet Coke, and I could never understand why. Once, she let me take a sip, and it must be what battery acid tastes like.”
Eli is smiling when I glance over at him, his gaze on me so kind and open I want to close the distance between us.
I want to lean up against him and feel his warmth, take his hand.
But of course, I don’t.
“The carbonation in it made it easy to hear when she had one, because it was so loud. Louder than this,” I nod towards his can. “I don’t know if it has a different formulation that makes it happen, but we always thought it was funny.”
I sigh, letting myself breathe in long and slow at the end of it.
“We found a lot of things funny. Kayla could do that, could find the humor in any situation. She made everything easier to deal with, easier to understand.”
When I shake my head, I think of the last time I talked to her, just the two of us in our kitchen the day she died.
“She had a knee injury from soccer, and it hurt her more than she let me know. That morning, that day . . . she was assuring me it would be fine, as she had her usual breakfast, a can of Diet Coke, in her hand, and she put it on her knee, as if the cold could help it.”
Maybe it did help.
But not enough.
“I’ve never lost anyone close to me, so I can’t imagine what it would be like.”
Everyone has always said they’re sorry when they hear I had a sister who died.
Eli doesn’t say this in addition to this admission, and I’m relieved I don’t have to hear it.
“Her friends are so cool. I wish we hadn’t moved away so I could see them, or at least, I could have seen them a lot before they graduated.”
Sarah and Cassidy will be around during winter break, I remind myself, and the warmth that spreads through me at the thought has nothing to do with the fire a few feet away from us.
“Would she have put up with a boyfriend who acts like Josh?”
I’m not expecting this question, which is loaded in ways I’m not prepared to answer.
Not now, maybe not ever.
“I shouldn’t have asked. None of my business.”
His voice stops as his mother’s rises from another room.
“What time do you need to be home?”
How long have we been talking, I wonder, and although I’m not sure what time my parents will return, I figure I should get back in case they get back earlier than I estimate.
“Are you afraid of them, your parents?”
Before I can answer his mom, Eli surprises me again with a question I should be able to answer, but I can’t.
It’s not fear, is it?
“Come back anytime, honey.”
After I’m bundled back up and Josh’s mom shakes her head at his usual outdoor attire, she pats me on the shoulder and points at the dark red scarf looped around his neck.
“Is this your influence?”
I nod and shrug as he looks around, as if he’s avoiding her gaze.
Her laughter makes me want to stay, and his easy way of telling her he’ll be back in a little bit only adds to that desire.
“If you want to talk more, let me know.”
Eli holds out his hand when we reach the end of my driveway, our walk back to my house silent and comfortable, although I’m dreading heading back inside alone.
I realize he’s waiting for me to give him my phone so he can put his number in my contacts, so I dig it out of my coat pocket and swipe up, noticing there are several text messages.
All are apologies from Josh.
Fortunately, none are from my parents, so they aren’t back yet.
“Thanks, for everything.”
My voice sounds loud in the still of the cold night, an echo in the sky that surrounds us from one side to the other.
His fingers are pink from the icy air.
“Anytime, I mean it.”
When he hands the phone back to me, he speaks again before I can tell him goodbye.
“Don’t worry about Josh. Let him go. Any attention you give him will just feed his ego.”
He’s right, I know, but what about the attention Eli gets?
How is that different?
If Eli kissed me, it wouldn’t feel like an attack. He wouldn’t want me to feel pressured into it, and he would think of me before himself, before his own feelings about it.
I open my mouth but it takes me a minute to form the word I need to say, because I can’t believe I’m thinking about Eli kissing me.
“Goodnight? I’ll see you Monday?”
His own words sound like questions, and I realize I’m standing here with my mouth open while he’s waiting for me to tell him I’m fine, that he can go back to his cozy house with the warm fire and interested, loving parents.
I don’t begrudge him that.
I really don’t.
“Sure. Be careful going hom
e.”
He nods and starts to back away, so I do the same.
Our gazes stay locked until I reach my front door and he’s partway down the street, his soaking wet feet stopped by a chunk of ice in front of him on the sidewalk.
I wave and turn away, sorry I had to come back home at all.
Homework takes me longer than it should on Sunday, as my mind drifts from my time with Eli last night to the newspaper note, along with the anonymous text.
The sender hasn’t texted any additional information, and it occurs to me tomorrow is Monday, and I'll need to check out this new clue in less than a day.
The band room isn’t in use for most of the day, just during the three band periods and sometimes after school for private lessons.
If I’m not mistaken, the implication from the text is the teacher is using it for private time with a student, which is gross as well as inappropriate.
What if the band director knew?
I cringe, forcing the images out of my mind before they can take solid root.
Besides, I don’t know for sure this is what is going on, if that is what the text means.
If, in fact, it is even from the person who wrote the original note.
I wonder if I should have told Eli about all of this, since I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t share it with anyone else, but I don’t want to break my promise not to involve anyone else.
My phone buzzes as it rests in the middle of my bed, and I leave my desk to see who’s calling and if I should answer.
Josh has continued to text apologies, although there are fewer of them than there were yesterday, and I hope he isn’t trying to actually talk to me now.
I’m not ready for that, but I’ll have to do it face to face tomorrow whether I’m prepared by then or not.
“Hello?”
Eli hums a little on the other end, and I smile to myself as the tone of his voice relaxes me.
I realize now I really needed a break from everything I’ve been thinking about today, and he somehow managed to call at exactly the right time to lead me into it.
Even if he is unaware of this.
“How’s your day going, Mia? Do you need a root beer or anything?”
I fall onto the bed and stretch out, groaning involuntarily.
“I’m fine. My mom would never let me have root beer, so while I appreciate the thought, it would be a pointless endeavor.”
