by Zac Brewer
Derek grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the row of lockers. The Sharpie fell to the floor and rolled several feet away. My feet were frozen in place. Derek hissed into Eric’s face, “You think that’s funny, asswipe? Reminding somebody of a goddamn tragic moment in their life? You are one sick fu—”
“Back off!” Miller appeared out of nowhere, dragging Derek off Eric by his collar. “That’s enough!”
Eric stood as still as stone with his back against the lockers. His face was pale and his hands were shaking. As Miller pulled Derek away, Derek met my gaze. His eyes looked dark as sin, his skin flushed in heated fury. Maybe I should have felt protected, but mostly I was frightened. Of the situation. Of the violent reaction. Of Derek.
Last night, he’d been gentle and sweet. Last night, he’d kissed me and made me feel safe. What had happened between then and now?
I didn’t see Derek for the rest of the day—most likely because any kind of violence got you a one-way ticket to suspension. As usual, Duckie gave me a ride home after school. We pulled into the driveway and Duckie asked me for the hundredth time since Derek’s outburst, “Are you okay?”
Of course I was. What girl wouldn’t be okay, knowing her (crush? Boyfriend? What exactly was Derek to me? Did he need a label? Did he want one? What if the very word boyfriend scared him away?) friend was willing to risk suspension in defense of her? I was totally cool. Just peachy. Not freaked out at all. “I’m fine. Really.”
He didn’t look like he believed me, which could probably be attributed to the fact that I was lying my ass off. “I could always reschedule my dentist appointment if you need to talk.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m fine.” I grabbed my bag and exited the car. Maybe I was fine. Totally fine. It’s not like Derek had done anything to me. He was just trying to protect me.
I made my way inside through a mental fog, where I was greeted by my mother’s overly cheerful voice. The one that she used whenever she was trying to make things seem perfectly normal, not the uncomfortable shit show that I seemed to inspire. “Hey, sweetie. I’ve been baking all day. Want something?”
“No, thanks.” The last thing I wanted to do was eat. I couldn’t get the look of absolute fury in Derek’s eyes out of my head. “By the way, I’ve got rehearsal tonight. Duckie’s picking me up later, after his appointment.”
“You decided to work on the play after all? That’s terrific!” She smiled at me, but her smile wilted some with concern. Her tone changed to one not resembling a sitcom mom’s. “Are you okay? You look a little tired.”
“Just a long day. I think I’ll go upstairs and lie down for a while.” I wandered upstairs to my room and sat on my bed. Above me, the cranes were looking uneasy, but I didn’t want to hear their thoughts on the matter—any matter—at the moment. I grabbed my phone and texted Derek, but there was no response. Then I lay on my bed, reliving that moment by my locker over and over again, until Mom called me down to dinner.
Tonight’s fine meal consisted of burgers and fries. I would have killed for a salad. Of course, I’d have to locate a knife sharp enough to chop up veggies first, which wasn’t exactly an option in the Danvers household at the moment.
“Did you tell your father where you’re going tonight?” My mom’s voice was chipper as ever again. I was waiting for cartoon animals to dance into the room. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they had.
Dad’s face was hidden behind his newspaper once again. I cleared my throat and said, “After a lot of thought, I’ve decided to attend the first rehearsal of the school play.”
To my immense surprise, he emerged from his newspaper fortress of solitude to join the conversation. “That’s good. It’ll get you out of the house. Give you something fun to do.”
My chest tightened with anxiety as I opened my mouth to ask a question to which I was certain I already had the answer. “Can . . . I mean, would it be okay if I stayed over at Duckie’s tonight? I know it’s a school night, and I know—”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “That’s fine. I think you’ve earned it. But check in with one of us once an hour, okay? Just so we can be sure you’re all right.”
Mom looked nervous about Dad’s decision, but all she said was “And don’t miss your therapy appointment tomorrow after school.”
Surprise filled me. Maybe the doors to Alcatraz were opening up at last. “I won’t miss it. And I’ll be sure to check in.”
Mom refilled Dad’s coffee mug and returned the pot to the coffeemaker on the counter. When she came back to her seat at the table, she said, “Anything new going on at work?”
Dad folded the paper up and set it next to his plate. He seemed lighter somehow. “Same old, same old. I swear, there are days when I wanna take a sledgehammer to those cubicle walls, just for some space.”
The image of him wigging out and smashing his office to pieces made me chuckle. “Don’t forget the outer walls, Dad. You might want fresh air too.”
He leaned with his elbows on the table and smiled—for the first time that I could remember in a very long time. “Do you remember the last time we had some really good fresh air together as a family?”
After the briefest of pauses, my mom and I answered at the same time. “The cabin.”
For a moment, all three of us sat there smiling. The cabin was this rustic, four-room place up north where we used to go all the time when I was younger. The nearest neighbor was two miles away. It had its own small lake and a pier; I used to sit on the end of the pier at night, watching the stars and the fireflies sparkling on the surface of the water. We’d grill fish that Dad and I would catch and clean, and we’d make s’mores every night. And when they thought I wasn’t looking, Mom and Dad would steal kisses while the cicadas sang all around us.
Dad said, “We should go back there this summer. Get some good time together before Brooke starts college.”
I’d almost forgotten that I’d sent an application to the University of Michigan last November. Truth be told, I’d just done it because my parents had pressured me about applying. But I knew I wouldn’t be attending. I’d had other plans—plans like not living anymore. It was weird how they were acting like I was definitely going to college, considering that I only applied to the one school and hadn’t heard back from them yet. But then, it was also kinda weird to still be alive.
Weird . . . but good.
Mom placed a hand over one of Dad’s and gave it a squeeze—something else I hadn’t seen in forever. Then she looked at me, her eyes bright with something that resembled hope. Even if it was fleeting, it was nice to see. It was nice to feel. “Oh, I’m so torn about you starting college. It’s such a fun time, but can be so dangerous.”
“Just major in martial arts. You’ll be fine.”
I laughed so hard at what Dad had said that I swear I almost shot a french fry out of my nose.
“You know, your father and I met in college. He shared the suite next to mine with three other guys.”
The smirk on Dad’s face said it all. “Hmm. Maybe you should go to a community college. Or a convent.”
“Dad, we’re not even Catholic.”
“Even so.” He picked up a fry and pointed it at me before taking a bite. “Just don’t get so mixed up in the fun that you forget your reason for being there, okay?”
“Well, it would be nice to see my daughter enjoy a little romance.”
It was a subtle gesture, but Dad slipped his hand out from under Mom’s. “She doesn’t need romance. She needs to focus on her grades and graduation.”
Something in the air was changing. I couldn’t define what it was, exactly, but I didn’t like it.
Mom said, “I’m just saying, college is about a lot more than studying and writing term papers. It would be nice if she got the full experience.”
New tension filled the air. “Just because that was your experience doesn’t mean it needs to be hers, Joanne.”
“Hey!” They both looked at me with utter surpri
se when I raised my voice. Neither seemed pleased. I couldn’t give a crap. “She is sitting right here. And she doesn’t appreciate having her life planned out for her. And if you’re going to talk about her, you could at least try talking to her like a goddamn person.”
“Go to your room, Brooke.” Dad said the words so calmly. Then, as I stood, he retreated back behind the comfort of his paper. News columns were far better companions than family members sometimes, it seemed. So much for the cabin.
“I was planning on it.” I stormed out and up the stairs to my room. Anywhere was better than dinner with my parents.
At quarter to seven, I heard the Beast’s telltale backfire. Slipping on my sneakers and denim jacket, I stuffed a change of clothes, a few toiletries, and some jammies in my backpack and went downstairs, ready for my dad to read me the riot act. But Dad was nowhere to be found. My mom was sitting in the living room, quietly watching some documentary about the history of quilting. She didn’t say a word to me as I walked out the front door and shut it behind me, which was very weird. When I sat down in the Beast, Duckie flashed me a look of concern. “Trouble in the Danvers household tonight?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” It was a lie. Well, a partial lie. I was handling things precisely as my father had been. By avoiding them. “Oh, but here’s a bit of happy. My dad said I could crash at your place tonight.”
Dad had probably considered changing his mind after our big fight, but even if he’d wanted to, I’d made it a point to get out of there without giving him a chance.
Duckie looked just as surprised as I’d felt when Dad had agreed. “Wow. Guess that means things are getting better.”
Better. Now that was a relative term.
Duckie backed out of the driveway, and as we barreled down the road, I stared out the window, wondering exactly when my life would belong to me so I could do with it as I pleased. Maybe never. Maybe that’s just the way things were.
After a minute or two, Duckie said, “What’s goin’ on with you? You’re so quiet.”
I didn’t know what to tell him. I mean, he was my best friend, so of course I could tell him anything. But honestly, I just wanted to put every word my parents had said tonight out of my head. “It’s not important. Just parental drama.”
He accepted my answer with an understanding nod, which I was grateful for. After we parked at the school, I said, “Are you going to chicken out on asking Tucker to prom?”
Duckie rolled his eyes. His body language portrayed him as cool and collected, but I knew Duckie. Inside, he was seriously freaking out and already planning what to say if and when Tucker turned him down. “I’m not chickening out. I’m just . . . waiting for the opportune moment.”
We walked into the gym, which was full of our fellow theater geeks as well as a few upperclassmen who were just looking for something extracurricular to add to their college applications. Claire Simpson was there, looking so out of place that it actually gave me a smile. People like Claire never felt out of place. Maybe it would be good for her.
The accordion walls that hid the stage along the end of the room underneath the basketball hoop had been pulled back, revealing giant red velvet curtains. The sight of those curtains was comforting, in a way. They’d marked my best times at this school, and I was taken aback by how much seeing them now really struck me.
As I scanned the crowd, one face stood out. Michael Stein. We’d headed up makeup crew as a team our freshman and sophomore years, before Michael had moved to Nebraska. He’d been dating the female lead for two years. The first night of rehearsal she’d dumped him right in front of everybody. It was mortifying for him, and we’d spent the rest of the play talking about their relationship issues. Michael was a good guy. I shouted, “Michael!”
He turned his head, and the moment he saw me, he grinned and ran over. He hugged me, picking me up off the floor a few inches before setting me back down.
“What are you doing here?” I grinned and hugged him back. I’d missed our talks. We were strictly friends, but good ones by the end of that play. Grease. Poor guy had his heart broken by Sandra Dee.
“I just moved back this week! What play are we doing?”
“Romeo and Juliet.”
Michael wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. No musical?”
“Sadly, no.”
Michael looked more than a little distracted by someone or something near the stage, and when I turned my head, I saw he was looking at Claire. “So . . . into cheerleaders now?”
“I’ve had a crush on her since the third grade.”
I nudged his shoulder. “It’s our senior year, dude. Take a risk and say hi.”
As Michael beelined for Claire without another word—maybe he was worried he might lose his nerve if he didn’t make his move right away—Duckie turned back from one of the sound guys and said, “Holy crap, is that Michael Stein?”
“The one and only.”
“Hey, Mercutio!” Duckie and I both turned to see Tucker standing across the gym, waving an arm in the air in Duckie’s general direction. I could almost hear Duckie’s heart rate increase. When Tucker smiled, I was certain Duckie’s heart stopped completely. “Can I have you for a minute?”
“Just a minute?” I waggled my eyebrows at Duckie, who burst out laughing and shoved my shoulder with his.
He took a deep, shaking breath and said, “I guess that’s my cue, eh?”
I plucked a bit of fuzz from his vest and smoothed out some of the wrinkles before patting him on the shoulders. “Go get him, Duckman.”
Duckie walked over to Tucker, looking all confident and aloof even though he was a quivering pile of goo inside. As they chatted, I was trying to figure out their conversation based solely on body language, but it wasn’t easy. Then at one point, they both grinned the biggest grins I think I’d ever seen. I really hoped that Duckie hadn’t lost his determination and had asked Tucker to prom. Someone deserved happiness, and of the two of us, that someone was definitely Duckie.
After a few more minutes, Duckie returned to where I was now sitting, on the edge of the stage. He appeared just as casual. Just as aloof.
I waited for a beat, but he didn’t speak, so I smacked him lightly on the bicep. “So?”
“Hmm? So what?” He looked at me in a way that would have convinced anybody who wasn’t me that he had no idea what I was talking about.
If he wasn’t my best friend in the whole entire world, I might have strangled him right then and there. But somehow, I managed to resist. “So did you ask him or what, you brat?”
He nodded, his eyes glancing about the room before finally lowering to focus on his zebra-striped shoes. “Yep. And I have bad news.”
My heart hurt. It hadn’t been easy to watch my best friend go through years of heartbreak and loneliness and not be able to do anything to help him. Tucker had been the major object of Duckie’s affection for so long now. I’d been certain he’d say yes. Being proved wrong made me feel like absolute crap for pushing Duckie to ask him in the first place. What kind of friend was I? “Oh, Duckie. I was so certain—”
“It would appear that you no longer have a date to the prom, Brooke. Because I’m going with Tucker.” He raised his eyes to meet mine, a small smile on his lips.
It took a moment to register what he was saying. I was so relieved that I wasn’t even mad. Putting my hands on his shoulders, I jumped off the stage and hugged him. He spun me around before setting me back on the stage with a grin. “Hey! Stop that or he’ll get the impression I’m excited or something.”
I couldn’t stop smiling. “But you are.”
“I so am.” He hopped up to sit beside me. The teachers were still getting organized, so they wouldn’t be ready for us for at least another ten minutes or so. Duckie leaned close so no one else would overhear. Not that anybody else was really paying attention to us. “It was perfect. I just asked him, and he said he’d been trying to figure out a way to ask me.”
Sighing, I laid my head on Du
ckie’s shoulder. Maybe there was some good in this world after all. “I love this moment. I want to freeze time for you right now, so you can stay here and feel all happy floaty.”
“I don’t want you to freeze time for me. Because if this moment is this good, what’s coming up in the future?”
Duckie was such an optimist, even if he never wanted to admit it. Why on earth had he picked me to be his best friend?
I sat up straight and nudged him. “Your postprom kiss, for one.”
“Oh my god! I totally forgot about that!” All the color drained out of his face, as if I’d just given him terrible news. It slowly returned, and when it did, his cheeks were blushing. “I may lose my mind. This is just so great. So crazy.”
“Maybe you need a little crazy in your life.” He definitely needed a little romance, that was for certain.
“Maybe you do too.” He flashed me a knowing look. “Have you talked to Derek since his meltdown earlier?”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked at the screen. Not one new text or call. “No.”
People were starting to gather at the center of the gym, which meant that practice was on, and all things Derek would have to wait until later. We both hopped off the stage, and as we walked over to join the crowd, Duckie said, “I could swing you by his house on the way home after practice, if you want.”
I bit my bottom lip in contemplation. “I don’t know. Let me think about it.”
And I did think about it. I thought about it all through the initial addressing of the crew. I thought about it as scripts were handed out and schedules were explained. I thought about it as the various speaking parts were introduced and applauded. I thought about it while I agreed to head up makeup crew once more. And during every other moment of our first rehearsal of the year.
An hour later, I hopped down from the stage and made my way to Duckie, who was engaged in what seemed like a really involved conversation with Tucker. He managed to tear his attention from Tucker for a moment, but I wasn’t sure how long that would last. I said, “Hey, Duckman. Can I take you up on that offer to stop by Derek’s on the way home?”
