SURVIVAL KIT

by Donna Freitas

  “Tamika gets bossy when we throw a party,” Kecia explained, and led us down a long hall to the back of the house. We turned right into the bathroom, which was palatial. The floors and countertops were marble, the fixtures crystal, and there was a giant hot tub below the windows. Fluffy towels were piled everywhere and five sinks lined one wall, each with its own set of mirrors, where Mary and Tamika were fixing their makeup.

  “I guess we don’t have to fight for space,” I said.

  Kecia shrugged. “My parents are over the top. Pick any spot you want.”

  “I don’t need one,” I said. “I came here ready.”

  Tamika turned. “Rose Madison, you are not going to our party dressed like that.”

  I looked down at my sweater, jeans, and boots. “Why not?”

  “I have the perfect thing for you,” Kecia said, and ran out of the bathroom, returning with a long, red, frilly top dangling from her fingers by spaghetti straps. She held it out to me.

  “Um, that’s nice,” I said, when inside I was thinking there was no way I was wearing something that flimsy. “But isn’t it kind of summery?”

  “The party is indoors,” Mary said.

  “But—”

  “Just try it,” Krupa urged. “If it doesn’t work, you can wear what you have on.”

  “Or something else from my closet,” Kecia said quickly. “Rose, trust me. It will look amazing.”

  “Fine.” I held out one finger and she let the satiny straps, thin as threads, slide onto it. “As long as I can keep the jeans.” I slipped inside the changing area and pulled my sweater and T-shirt over my head. I stared at the fancy tank top—it looked so tiny and not at all warm.

  “I can’t wear a bra with this, can I?” I called.

  “You don’t need one. It’s tight,” Kecia explained.

  “All right, all right.” Off came my bra and I shimmied the shirt down over my torso. I was already tempted to throw a sweater over it, but then I saw my reflection in the mirror. Each short layer of red chiffon cascaded from one to the other. It reminded me of a 1920s flapper dress. And it was the very same color as the daisy Will had given me. “Okay,” I said, thinking that maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “You guys were right. I kind of like it.” I peeked my head out from behind the door.

  “Show us,” Kecia prompted, and I stepped outside.

  “Oooh,” everyone gushed.

  “That heart pendant is perfect,” Krupa said, and reached for it to get a closer look. “I’ve noticed you wearing it lately, but this outfit really shows it off. It’s beautiful.” She looked hard at me. Maybe she thought it was a gift from Will. “Perfect for a V-Day party,” she added, just as the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the first guests.

  One after the other we headed downstairs, a train of five girls—five friends—ready for a party. Happiness coursed through me. For a long time I’d thought this part of high school was over for good, that I’d never want to do things like be at a party or fuss over an outfit with friends, that after my mother died it just wouldn’t seem right. But here I was, doing just these things, and with each step the crystal heart bounced against my bare skin. Tonight I was wearing my heart on the outside, in plain view, for anyone to see.

  Krupa joined me on the soft white couch, where I’d been sitting for the last half hour, my eyes focused on the sliver of front door I could see from here. People milled around the room, cups of beer from the keg in their hands. A group of girls nearby were whispering, and a burst of deep laughter came from some guys in the corner. Krupa laid her head on my shoulder, her long, thick black hair cascading down my arm. Her wide eyes blinked up at me. “Who are you watching for? Hmmm?” she asked.

  “Like you really need to ask.” I shrugged her off me. “He isn’t here yet and maybe he won’t come at all.” The longer the party went on without Will’s appearance, the more disappointed I became.

  “Why don’t you text him and see where he is?”

  “Will and I don’t communicate like that.”

  Krupa looked at me. “What do you mean?”

  “We always settle everything in person. When we see each other we make a plan for next time and that’s it—nothing happens in between. It’s sort of this weird, unspoken rule we have. I’m not sure why.”

  “But half the fun is in the constant messaging.”

  “What? You mean the waiting around to see if he texted or didn’t, and then what he said if he did, and then what to say back, and blah, blah, blah to infinity? Honestly, it’s kind of nice, having a friendship without all that extra drama to worry about.”

  Krupa scoffed. “Friendship? Please. Admit it, you are completely in love.”

  “Shhhh,” I hissed. “Nothing has happened—” I began.

  A mischievous look crossed Krupa’s face and she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Well, I’d better go refill this drink,” she said, and popped up from the couch, grabbing her glass off the coffee table.

  “But we were—”

  “Back in a while,” she said, and disappeared into the next room.

  When I turned back, I saw Will on the far side of the room, looking uncomfortable, his thumbs hooked into his jeans pockets, something I knew by now that he did when he was nervous. His expression was blank, closed off, even as people said hello. Sometimes he mustered a small smile that would disappear the instant they moved on. But when our eyes met he smiled for real and started making his way through the crowd toward me.

  Butterflies took flight inside me. “You’re here,” I said, returning his smile with an even bigger one. It was becoming difficult to hide how I felt.

  “We’re all here,” he said, and sank down into the cushions next to me, leaving quite a bit of space between us.

  I considered shifting toward him but stayed put. “We?”

  “The hockey team. We almost never get to go to parties during the season so everyone jumped at the chance to go to this one. Though, soon all of my weekend nights will be free,” he added, looking at me with curiosity. Next weekend the play-offs for the state hockey championship would begin, marking the end of the season. Maybe Will was nervous about what would happen between us once our regular routine was gone.

  “I think it’s a good thing,” I said, staring right back. “Won’t it be nice, to be able to do whatever you want again? Whenever you want?”

  “It’s not like I go to parties much anyway. I haven’t been to one in …”—he paused, counting—“over two years.”

  “Seriously?” I asked, though I shouldn’t have been surprised since I didn’t ever remember seeing him at one.

  “When was the last time you went to one?” he countered.

  The answer was last March, almost a year ago, but before I could respond a bunch of hockey players rushed by us. “Will’s got a girl,” one of them said, and punched him in the shoulder. Will tried to grab his arm but his teammate was too quick and was already on his way into the next room. When he turned to me again there were two red spots on his cheeks. “Don’t mind them,” he began, but was interrupted again.

  “Will, Will, Will,” Tim Godfrey, a senior I’d seen after games but had never formally met, was chanting Will’s name over and over like a fan at a game. He squeezed onto the couch between us and put an arm around Will’s neck, in a friendly sort of headlock—if a headlock could ever be considered friendly. Tim grinned at me. “Rose Madison, I don’t believe we’ve ever had the pleasure. Will doesn’t like to share.”

  I tried to hide my smile. When I went to shake Tim’s hand, he brought mine to his lips and kissed it. “Nice to meet you,” I said, and laughed.

  “Come on,” Will said to him. “Don’t you have other people to harass?”

  “Don’t you just love this man?” Tim asked me, a goofy look on his face.

  “Quit it,” Will said, and punched him in the shoulder. To me he mouthed “Sorry” and “He’s really drunk.”

  Tim was undeterred. “Let me give you som
e advice about Will,” he went on. “He is very shy and sometimes he just needs a little push.” He pressed a single finger on Will’s upper arm to demonstrate.

  “Ah, I think I get it,” I said.

  “Will.” He leaned closer, like he was going to tell him a secret. “Girls like it when you ask them to dance,” he whispered, but loud enough so I could hear. “Many other men have done the same with ladies in the next room.” He stood up and yanked Will with him, who looked like he might die on the spot. Tim turned to me. “Rose, you’d love to dance with Will, wouldn’t you?”

  If he wasn’t acting so clearly out of affection, I might have felt more embarrassed, but the intent was obvious: to give Will that little push. Something I knew all about myself. Maybe we both needed this. “I would love to,” I said, and stood up. Tim took my hand and passed it to Will. Our fingers automatically wove together, like we’d held hands a million times before. The noise and lights and people around us disappeared and all I knew was the feeling of his palm against mine and the tingling of skin touching skin.

  Tim patted our backs, like Will and I were little boats he wanted to send floating across the water. Still holding hands, we headed into the next room, where one slow song after another had been playing all night. Without looking at me Will said, “You don’t have to do this, you know. They were just playing around. They like to—”

  “I want to,” I said, not letting him finish, “dance with you, I mean.”

  “Okay,” he said, seeming relieved and beginning to relax. The two of us moved toward the crowd of couples swaying under a ceiling of white twinkle lights. Will stopped. “Middle or edge?” he asked, surveying the floor.

  “Middle-to-edge,” I decided, and led him into the crush of people.

  “At least here maybe the guys will leave us alone.” Will shrugged his shoulders, his smile sheepish. “Tim meant well.”

  “I got that much,” I said, and put my arms around his neck.

  Will hesitated a moment, but then I felt his arms slide around my waist. As we swayed, turning slowly, I breathed in the scent of his skin. Occasionally my attention was caught by the fact that we weren’t alone in the room, when I noticed Kecia smiling at us and when Mary passed by and whispered “Nice” in my ear.

  “I’ve been meaning to thank you,” I told him after a while.

  “Thank me?” He pulled back a little, to look at me.

  “For the flower. On Valentine’s Day.”

  “Oh. That. It was just a little—”

  “I know what it was. It was perfect,” I said, drawing him close again. “I loved it.”

  “I’m glad,” he said. “I hoped you would.”

  I rested my head on Will’s shoulder, enjoying the feel of his sweater against my cheek and his hands on my back. The only thing that mattered was where I was and who I was with now, and when Will’s arms tightened around me I knew I was right where I needed to be all along.

  29

  MY HEART

  The day for game one of the hockey championships arrived and everyone at school was excited. First thing in the morning I caught up with Will in the hall at school. “You didn’t tell me I needed to plan for this! I heard it’s impossible now to get tickets for tonight.”

  His blue eyes widened. “Do you really think I would leave you out? That I wouldn’t make sure that you could go?” He leaned against the wall of lockers, and slid his hand into mine. Our faces were inches apart, close enough to kiss. I forgot that we were at school, that we weren’t alone, that I should be breathing. “Rose?” he pressed.

  I snapped back to reality. “Sorry. The tickets. So you have one for me?”

  “It helps if you know a player. We get a block.”

  I tried to count how many I’d need in my head—Krupa, Kecia, Tamika, Mary—but became distracted again by the fact that we were holding hands and publicly so. “Um, so how many can you spare?”

  “How many do you need?” he asked, and I did my best to go down the list.

  Later that night when we arrived at the rink, people were streaming in the doors, past scalpers outside selling tickets. A light snow was falling, and the weather report predicted it would become heavy and continue through tomorrow. The approaching storm only intensified the anticipation all around us.

  Fans cheered louder than ever as the players shot out of the team boxes onto the ice at the start of the first period, skating in circles while the refs conferred in the corner of the rink. When Krupa joined Kecia and me a few minutes into the game, she nudged me. “Why aren’t you watching?”

  I was covering my eyes, so I widened my fingers to peer at her through the gaps. “I’m nervous,” I admitted. “If they lose, it will be awful.”

  Krupa drew my hands away from my face. “Will you just admit that you are in love with him already?”

  “It’s pretty obvious,” Kecia said from my other side.

  I didn’t respond.

  “And it’s obvious the feeling is mutual,” Krupa added.

  Will skated to the penalty box, hoisting himself over the boards to wait out his three minutes, and the clock began counting down. “You don’t know that.”

  “Have you considered asking him if he wants to be more than friends?”

  “No. I can’t.”

  Krupa sighed and we sat in silence for a while. The last seconds on Will’s penalty disappeared and he was back on the ice in a flash. The crowd jumped to their feet, and between woolcovered fingers I watched as the Lewis players passed the puck between them, the opponents checking them into the boards so hard it made me wince. When they neared the goal the cheers intensified. After no one scored, everyone let out a collective breath, and the teams raced to the other end of the rink. As the tension eased I put my hands in my lap, but the relief didn’t last long. Soon the crowd was up again as two Lewis players, one of them Will, passed the puck back and forth, gliding in between the opposing players like they weren’t there, and Will’s stick came down like lightning to slap it into the goal.

  The score went to Lewis 1, Jackson 0.

  I jumped to my feet with the rest of the crowd. As Will extricated himself from the pile of teammates hitting him on the back in congratulations, he skated a quick lap around the rink and when he was right below our spot in the stands he stopped. Even through his face mask, I could tell he was searching the crowd. When he saw me, he nodded ever so slightly, then skated away.

  My cheeks burned red.

  “Oh. My. God. Rose!” Krupa squealed. “Did you see that!”

  “I think I’m going to cry, that was so cute,” Kecia said on my other side.

  “Right, like he’s not in love with you,” Krupa said.

  For the rest of the game I endured smirks from my friends, but I didn’t really care, and when, in between periods two and three, the techno music blared like always and everybody got up to dance, for the first time all year I danced along with them.

  By the time we left the arena snow was falling heavily and several inches had piled up. The weather report was now predicting at least a foot, so the celebrations for Lewis’s win would have to wait. Will drove me straight home, his eyes glued to the road. When we arrived at my house, there wasn’t any sitting and talking in his truck because he was immediately heading out to plow the driveways Doniger Landscaping was responsible for during winter.

  It was difficult to hide my disappointment when we said our quick goodbyes.

  But later that night, Will surprised me with a text.

  I’d been asleep and when my cell first buzzed I grabbed it off the bedside table, annoyed. Then I saw that it was Will, and I sank back into the soft pillows on my bed. The entire world looks like the inside of a snow globe, I read, smiling dreamily in the silent darkness. Minutes later he sent another text, and then another, and I drifted in and out of sleep between them.

  Mr. D’Angelo’s pine tree looks like the abominable snowman, Will wrote, and sent a photo.

  There are snow angels in the
park. Again, a picture, three winged figures already disappearing beneath a cover of white.

  Maybe they will cancel school on Monday. The school entrance was obscured by a drift so high it reached the top of the door.

  The next time my phone buzzed Will’s message was different. Come outside. Wear boots. Bring an extra scarf. And maybe a corncob pipe. The photo was of Will, one hand reaching away from his body to take the picture. He stood next to the beginnings of a snowman, and a tall black lamppost rose up nearby, outlining him in light.

  He was here. In the front yard.

  My heart pounded out the words Will is outside, Will is at my house and I scrambled to get up, hunting my room for snow gear, but came up with nothing.

  Then I remembered Mom’s teacher closet.

  I grabbed the crystal heart from the dresser and tiptoed through the living room and the kitchen. The floor of the mudroom was slick with water from the snow that Dad and I trekked in earlier that night and I did my best to avoid the puddles. I took a deep breath and opened the closet door. Among Mom’s paint smocks and aprons I found what I was looking for: puffy snow pants, her sky blue down jacket, and her bright yellow boots, the outfit she wore to play with her kids in the snow at school. I pulled the pants up over my pajamas and put on Mom’s jacket, stuffing the heart deep into its left pocket. I took an extra scarf and hat from the shelf and ran into the kitchen to grab a carrot from the fridge. After shoving my feet into my boots, I trudged to the door, wrapping a scarf around my neck and pulling on mittens as I went. The second I was outside I stopped.

  The snow came up above my knees.

  The world was completely silent under a thick white blanket glowing as if it were made of light. The soft wet flakes came to rest on my nose and lips, and my breath caught. It was beautiful. In the middle of this moment of awe, a fat, wet, icy snowball landed splat across my cheek, and it took all the restraint in me not to scream.

  “Hey, Rose,” Will called out as I wiped my face. Shielded by my arm from another attack, I turned in his direction. He stood a good twenty feet away, too far for me to fight back, grinning wide.