by Amy Spalding
“Does she, like, hate music?” I ask.
“Definitely not,” he says. “But she’s, at times, a bit antisocial, and getting her out with people other than Kate and Vaughn is tough. Some of my friends are convinced she’s imaginary, considering they’ve never met her since we’ve been together.”
“Does it bother you?”
“A bit, I suppose. I certainly don’t mind that we aren’t one of those couples that does everything with each other.” He laughs as he puts away his phone. “I don’t love garnering a reputation as someone with a fictional girlfriend, though.”
“Hey, Harper,” one of Brad’s friends calls. “We’re heading back in.”
“You should go,” I say.
“I think I’ll wait a bit,” Brad calls back. At the guys’ semi-disturbed glances between Brad and me, he adds, “This is Reece’s daughter, Devan.”
They both shake my hand and end up sitting down with us, which is fine because they’re friendly and funny and clearly the kind of guys who would think it was gross for Brad to be talking to a teenager who wasn’t his girlfriend’s daughter. But it doesn’t leave the back of my mind that now I’ve been out here for maybe a solid half hour with no sign at all of Elijah or Lissa.
Finally, when Brad’s friends are ready to head back inside to see the next band, Brad gives me a little glance. “Shall we just head back to the house? See if we can at least drag Reece out for a late dinner?”
I nod, getting to my feet. “I mean, if it’s okay. If you want to go back inside—”
“Of course it’s okay.” He says good-bye to his friends while I text Elijah and Lissa to let them know I have a way home, and we take off. We’re still sitting at the very first stoplight we hit when my phone beeps with a text. sorry lost track of time . . . call u l8r? –E
I’m not sure how I want to respond, so I don’t. In my head I type out lots of responses, though. You should be sorry. Lissa’s not the only one who has feelings, you know. How could you just LEAVE ME THERE? Please stop saying ‘l8r’! Aren’t I worth typing the whole word?
At the house, my mother is already in pajamas and curled up with her laptop, so Brad and I make a salad and grilled sandwiches instead of suggesting going out. (I normally geek out only where musicals and clothes are concerned, but the panini maker is pretty great.) After we eat, my phone rings. I start to hit ignore but I’ve probably done enough ignoring tonight already. I take the call.
“Hey,” Elijah says. “I’m sorry about earlier. Liss just . . .”
I give him a lot of time to finish his thought, but he doesn’t.
“Liss felt really bad, too, especially since she was your ride. You got home okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Thanks for making sure. Like, two hours later.”
“Devan, I’m . . .” He sighs really loudly.
“You’re what?” I ask after another endless pause. Is it so bad to need just a little sorry?
“Never mind. Are you busy tomorrow? Do you want to hang out?”
I’m not sure I do, but I agree, and he promises to pick me up at noon. Neither of us sounds very thrilled, but I try not to take that to heart as I lie down in bed.
Chapter Fifteen
Things I know about Reece Malcolm:
31. She’s probably an annoying girlfriend.
Elijah picks me up on Saturday like we didn’t have the most awkward evening less than twenty-four hours ago. Brad asks him a few questions about his band, and he answers them politely and enthusiastically but without the geeky ramble of Sai’s responses. I can’t figure out which I prefer.
“I was gonna check out some amps,” he says as we get into his car. Then kisses me. Then nods at his bass in its case in the backseat. “You cool with that?”
“Sure,” I say, even though the first time we hung out we listened to his demo, and last night I went to his show. I can’t imagine Lissa would mind doing tons of band stuff with him.
Not that I’m competing with Lissa.
Should I bring up Lissa?
Should I bring up the show?
“Then we can do whatever you want.” He slides his arm around my shoulders. “Unless you’re dead from boredom. Then it’s straight to the funeral home for you.”
Okay, I can’t actually be annoyed now. Right? Also I don’t end up just standing by in the music store. Elijah plugs his bass into amp after amp, making sure I hear each one, and gets my opinion (not that I’m some amp expert, but it’s funny how understanding music means you understand a lot more than your little corner of it) before finally deciding on a vintage model we both agree is best at thundering through you.
I watch as he counts off bills from a huge wad of cash in his pocket, and he shoots me a little grin. “I worked all summer, and my mom still gives me an allowance, but it’s taken a while.”
Thanks to my clothing habit, I’ve never been great at saving my babysitting money in any impressive amounts. “Where did you work this summer?”
“Interned at Liss’s mom’s office, filing and stuff, but it paid okay and I didn’t have to wear a uniform or wait tables, so it wasn’t bad.” He thanks the cashier and hoists up the amp from the floor. I hold the door for him and grab his keys so I can open the trunk for him as well. Lissa has a billion things in common with him and got him the job that got him the amp, but I can at least be helpful with doors and keys.
“Hey,” he says to me.
“What?” I’m eager for an apology or an explanation, but instead he says “Hey” again, this time with a grin, and loops his fingers through one of my belt loops to pull me close to him. And there is no way to say that making out in the parking lot behind a music store isn’t completely tacky, so I won’t try.
Probably I should bring up last night at some point, but my anger has faded. If it were really a big deal he wouldn’t have texted and called later, right? And we wouldn’t be here now. (Well, not here, specifically, but out with each other.) I’m more than willing to let it go for today. Maybe for forever.
Elijah has plans to hang out with the rest of Killington Hill that night, and the house is empty when he drops me off. There’s a note on the counter from Brad, who has handwriting so perfect it looks like a font, saying there are leftovers in the refrigerator for me, and an addendum to the note from my mother in her crazy scrawl, letting me know they’ll be out late and to text if I need anything.
I let myself into my mother’s office, but there’s nothing of note. My goal of figuring her out is still important, but I’m realizing how it isn’t like you can totally judge a person by her stuff, even her email. Unfortunately email is really all I have to go on.
After I microwave leftovers (grilled chicken and asparagus over quinoa), instead of worrying about my mother, I go up to my room and open my computer to worry about other people instead. Thanks to Facebook, I figure out that Travis is with a bunch of other people from Nation and Honors Choir who are in the Merrily chorus, which sucks. I guess part of me did worry our immediate friendship was too good to be true. Maybe I was right.
And even though I don’t like explaining my feelings to people, if Travis wasn’t being this way, maybe I’d have someone to talk to about this whole Elijah/Lissa situation. I pick up my phone and start to text, delete, start to text again, delete again, and then finally just click on her name. Probably she won’t have time on a Saturday night anyway.
“Devan?”
“Oh, um, hi. Yeah. Are you busy?”
“Not at all, Noah and I were going to go out, but he’s sick with food poisoning or something like that,” Justine says. “Hopefully he’s not lying.”
I don’t feel, like, great about things with Elijah right now, but at least I’m confident that if he told me he had food poisoning, I’d believe him.
“I got a role in the fall musical,” I say.
“I figured,” she says. “I saw people congratulating you on Facebook.”
“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” I say. “It’s been,
like, a really weird week.”
“Bad weird?”
“No. Yes? I don’t know. Things are—”
“Hang on, someone’s calling.”
Justine pauses, and it’s like I can feel exactly what’s about to happen.
“Hey, it’s Noah. Can I call you later?”
“Sure.” I wonder if there’s one right thing to say when you feel your friendship isn’t what it’s supposed to be anymore. “’Bye.”
Justine doesn’t call back, but I distract myself by watching approximately two billion clips of different productions of Merrily online. Also Elijah starts texting me about the weird things his bandmates are up to (parker just got his foot stuck in a cheez-it box) and it feels way less like I’m alone as I guess I am. Also less like he’s going to end things so he can be with Lissa.
My phone beeps again, but this time it’s not Elijah. It’s my mother. Just checking that you’re behaving. xo
I grin and text back. Of course. Tell Brad thanks for dinner.
Did you have fun with the boy? xo
I feel like my answer is way more complicated than yes or no. But also, I guess I did. And even though there are kind of a lot of crappy things going on—like how everything is clearly not the way it used to be with Justine, and how maybe Travis and I won’t be friends anymore, and how probably maybe I don’t know possibly Lissa wants Elijah back—I’m kind of okay for the moment.
Sai walks up to me Monday morning while I’m still at my locker. He looks really good in a just-rolled-out-of-bed way, but I try not to notice that.
“Hey,” he greets me with a grin. “Good weekend?”
I shrug. “It was okay. How was yours?”
“Not bad. So I was wondering, you busy after Nation rehearsal tonight? We could get started on our scene.”
“No,” I say. “I mean, no, I’m not busy. I can check with my mother and find out. Probably it’ll be okay, though.”
“Awesome,” he says. “Let me know later.”
Travis walks by as Sai walks away, and I try to make eye contact. Travis very obviously looks away and keeps walking. I slam my locker shut and head over to the Music Hall where of course the first person I see is Mira. Apparently today is just going to keep getting more annoying.
“Hey, are you okay?” she asks me. “You look extra dour.”
“Don’t,” I say.
“I’m not doing anything,” she says. “Seriously, what’s up?”
Fine. I will continue treating Mira like she no longer hates me, even if nothing actually happened for her to change her opinion. “It’s just Travis.”
“Ugh, I know. He’s been completely snotty to me, too. Don’t take it personally.”
“Did this happen with the spring show?” I ask.
“I signed up as the accompanist last spring,” she says. “I realized recently I’d rather be in the show. So Travis was the only one of us to actually be in Spring Awakening, so even though it was only the chorus, it was different. Sophomores don’t really ever get roles.”
“Back at any of my old schools, Travis probably could have gotten the lead as a freshman,” I say.
“Yeah, New City’s great, but then I think about how if I went somewhere else I might actually end up with more opportunities.” She shrugs, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “But I guess I’d rather deal with real competition now than think all of this is easy until I go to college.”
“Right? Me, too, totally.”
Lissa rounds the corner, and her expression goes blank when she sees the two of us standing there.
“Hey,” Mira says. “Why is everyone acting weird today?”
You can tell she expects us to laugh, but obviously we do not.
“Can we talk?” Lissa asks, and it’s obvious Mira thinks this is directed at her. But I nod and take a few steps farther away from the Women’s Choir room. Mira gives us a look I can’t interpret at all before heading into the classroom.
“Hi,” Lissa says. “So I’m really sorry about Friday night.”
It flies out of her in a big jumble, just like words betray me sometimes, and even after everything, I feel this weird kinship with Lissa, who days before I would have dismissed as way too cool for me. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” she says with a groan. “What’s wrong with me? I was completely over whatever we had, but the second he’s with you I turn into some girl on a reality show. And—because crying at freaking Molly Malone’s isn’t bad enough—I had to tell him.”
“What did he say?” I ask, even though it isn’t technically any of my business. I can’t believe how open Lissa is, how she could just say all of this to me.
“Not much.” She shrugs. “I think he was too surprised to know what to say.”
“Right,” I say.
“Also, he likes you, Devan. I’m old news.”
I laugh at that, even if I don’t know how much of it I can believe.
“I’m really sorry we ditched you,” she says. “I’m such a bitch.”
“You’re not.”
“I am. I ditched you and tried to hook up with your boyfriend.”
Boyfriend. Wow, I’m not prepared for that word.
“Anyway, we should get to class,” she says. “I’m glad you got home okay.”
We walk silently into the choir room. I feel how it’s different between us now than it was on Friday night before everything unfolded. It’s not like I actually think Lissa is a bitch—just that she can be so honest with me right away feels foreign from how Justine had never freaking come out and said that she needed to, I don’t know, prioritize The Tenor now. When her best friend’s life had totally fallen apart.
Ugh, I don’t want to spend today thinking about Justine or her tenor or Friday night. Time to take out my sheet music and let that clear my head.
By lunchtime things are officially weird. Travis is being quiet—well, quiet for Travis, which means speaking only to Lissa and Elijah. Lissa is avoiding eye contact and conversation with Elijah, and that means Mira is soaking up all her extra attention. Also Mira is clearly happy to pretend Travis isn’t snubbing her, and clearly unaware that something totally awkward went down on Friday night.
I seriously want to hide. But instead I am next to Elijah, wondering if he’s technically my boyfriend now, and if Lissa will keep telling him she wants him back, and if things here can ever just be normal. I don’t need everything to be perfect, but sitting here it’s hard to ignore how freaking weird everything has gotten.
“What are you doing after school?” Elijah asks me. “No, wait. Monday is Nation. Can I pick you up after so we can hang out?”
“I, um, might have to work on this acting thing.”
I’m not doing anything wrong by working on a class project with Sai, but I still feel the need to hide information. Is that bad?
“Something for Acting One?” Travis asks like I’m a little kid. Now I wish he’d go back to fully ignoring me. “You’re lucky you have a good voice. They don’t like casting people in leading roles who aren’t at least in Acting Two.”
“Well, she has a kickass voice,” Elijah says. “And she already got the part. So your point’s pretty moot.”
Everyone ends up laughing at Elijah because moot seems like such an odd thing to say, but I squeeze his hand under the table and smile at him. Because he’s great. Because no matter what happened on Friday, and even though I hope I get better at defending myself, someone here who is new to me cares enough to say something.
And thinks I’m kickass.
“I wanted to tell you something,” Elijah says as we’re walking to class from lunch. “I know I keep asking to hang out and you keep having Nation and your show—”
“I’m sorry, it’s just that—”
“No, listen, I want to make sure you know that I get it. Trust me, wish I could get my band together for more practices.”
“Why are you so great?” I ask, and he actually blushes. Oh my God, it’s s
o cute I can hardly handle it. I kiss him there, right in the middle of the hallway, without checking that Sai or Lissa or anyone else is around. I don’t care. I’m full of feelings I never expected to have for a boy I didn’t even know last month.
And I could lie, but I won’t. After Nation, when Sai and I let ourselves into the spare rehearsal studio (we’re allowed to sign up for it, so it doesn’t exactly replicate letting myself into the choir room with Justine), I’m suddenly full of feelings again. With Elijah I feel safe and special, which is seriously more than I thought I could feel for a boy. With Sai I don’t even know how to name what I feel, but my head buzzes with it. It feels like a betrayal of Elijah but I’m not sure if it actually is. I would kill to suddenly have boy experience to draw from.
“Your phone’s beeping.” Sai sits down on the floor with the script for Proof. I wonder if he picked a scene for us already, and I wonder if it’s the one where Hal is kind of drunk and kisses Catherine. Is it possible to want and not want that, badly, all at the same time? “Probably Cross, needs help at the makeup counter.”
“Why would he need help?” I ask. “Elijah knows what he’s doing.”
“He’s gonna branch out,” Sai says. “Needs more glitter, probably.”
“Shut up,” I say, getting my phone out of my purse. The text is indeed from Elijah, so I act like I’m on my own working on my acting project before I go home for homework and dinner. All of it’s true, just leaving out the one tiny detail sitting next to me. I hope that doesn’t mean I’m becoming a good liar or anything.
“Kennedy still acting weird to you?” Sai asks, and I shrug.
“Yeah, unfortunately. You, too?”
“Me, too. Honestly, bet the guy’s just confused because he thought his audition went so well.”
It’s nice Sai wants to believe something good about Travis.
