Not Another Love Song

by Olivia Wildenstein

  “What are you doing here?” Nev’s soft voice tiptoes into my ears.

  I shift my attention back to her. “They ran out of food in the high school cafeteria.”

  She blinks. “They did?”

  I smile. “No.”

  “So why did you come?” she asks a tad louder. Which isn’t saying much. The sound of her friend crunching on his chips largely overpowers her voice.

  “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “You came here to see me?”

  “That’s what friends do. They check up on each other.”

  Emotion ripples across her features.

  “Also, I might’ve heard you were giving Ten the cold shoulder.”

  She knots her skinny arms in front of her, bones jutting against her shirtsleeves. “He doesn’t deserve to be talked to.”

  “Boys are clueless.”

  Muncher looks up from his textbook, then licks his fingers before dipping them back into his extra-large bag.

  Even though I’m still angry at Ten, I don’t want a rift to form between sister and brother. “I was thinking we could go shopping on Saturday. With Ten.” I wasn’t thinking this at all. “That way, you’ll get to pick your own clothes, but both he and I have to approve of your choices. Does that sound fair?”

  Nev’s eyes light up like the QB-sized blow-up ghost my neighbors always stick by their front door on Halloween. “Yes!”

  I don’t want to talk to Ten, but here I am suggesting shopping with him? “Great.”

  She nibbles on her lower lip. “He probably won’t approve of anything I choose…”

  “He can’t be that pigheaded.”

  She lets out a little giggle. “Yeah. He can.” Her cheeks have become all rosy.

  I lean over the table. “So, which ones made fun of you?”

  The color in her cheeks spreads to the rest of her face. “Uh…” She picks at the label on her juice bottle. “It doesn’t matter. I’m over it.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  “Angie, it’s okay. I promise.”

  “I’m not going to make a scene.” I might, though.

  She tears off a piece of the plasticky paper and rolls it between her fingers, flicking it onto her tray.

  Her “friend,” whose nose is still wedged in his book, surprisingly denounces them—or perhaps unsurprisingly … he doesn’t seem to care about school politics at all. “Jenny and Crystal,” he says, jutting his chin toward the table of glammed-up girls.

  “Mark,” Nev hisses.

  “What? It’s not a secret. Even I saw that snap of you in the locker room, and I don’t even have Snapchat.”

  Nev has gone so pale that she matches the laminated tabletop.

  “I didn’t like it or anything,” he reassures her.

  Nev knocks over her juice bottle, and a translucent yellow stream trickles onto my lap in time with the anger coursing through my veins.

  “They snapped a picture of you in the locker room?” I grab a paper napkin from her plate to stanch the flow of juice.

  “All you could see was her back and legs,” Mark the Muncher supplies, sucking the orange powder off his fingers.

  “Angie. It’s no big deal,” Nev murmurs.

  But it is. My thighs harden against the bench. All of my muscles harden. “Does Ten know?”

  She shakes her head. “And you can’t tell him. Or Dad. I don’t want to be homeschooled again.”

  Homeschooled? Nev was homeschooled? “I won’t tell them. I promise.” Tossing the wet napkin back onto her tray, I spring off the bench, and then my black combat boots devour the floor.

  I think I hear Nev calling my name, but I could be wrong. Too much anger is swooshing against my eardrums. I stop next to a blonde whose lips are so shiny they reflect my face.

  “Jenny Barnett,” I grumble.

  She blows a large pink bubble that snaps against her lips. “And you are?”

  Does she really not recognize me? Whatever … “I’m someone who has something to say to Jenny. And to Crystal, too.” My fingers ball into fists at my sides. I relax them, because it isn’t like I’m going to clock anyone, even though the desire isn’t lacking.

  A girl with almond-shaped green eyes and hair as black as Laney’s lowers a blinged-out smartphone to peer at me. “I’m Crystal.”

  Her voice doesn’t waver, her expression doesn’t flinch. She’s not scared of me. None of them are. Why would they be? Because I’m a high school senior? I suddenly wish Rae were here. She would’ve inspired fear in them and would’ve known what to say.

  “It’s not okay to bully people.” Jeez, I sound like my mom. Worse than my mom … I sound like Mrs. Larue. I wedge my lips shut before I quote the Buddha.

  Crystal smiles, but it isn’t kind. And then her eyes rove over the cafeteria, finally settling on someone beyond me. Probably Nev. “Whatever are you talking about?”

  That elicits snickers from the girls around her.

  She knows exactly what I’m talking about.

  Whom I’m talking about.

  Anger simmers in my veins.

  Vicious. They are so vicious. Some go back to scrolling through their feeds, some keep eyeing me.

  Come on, Angie, think of something that will make them shrink … But not a single solid comeback slots into my mind. If they knew whose daughter Nev was, they would all be sidling up to her, but obviously I can’t tell them who Nev’s mom is. Besides, people shouldn’t be kind because of who you are or who you know.

  I curl my fingers back into balls. “If you ever hurt her again, I’ll hurt you even more.”

  Jenny grins so wide I can see her tonsils, but then her smile wilts as her eyes settle on a spot higher than my head. I turn, expecting to see a figure of authority, but it’s not a supervisor.

  All of the girls stop smirking at me to stare at Ten, who stands behind me in his track attire. He glowers down at them, sweat glossing his forehead and neck.

  “What are you doing here?” I choke out.

  His eyes surf over the stunned, pinkening faces. He hasn’t said a word, yet he’s somehow chastened them. “My sister is off-limits. If I fucking find out any of you bully her, I will involve the principal and your parents.”

  Cheeks turn scarlet, and eyes go wide. Ten’s no-shit demeanor and crisp tone has their gazes bouncing off one another nervously. Had I said the same words, would their ears have gone flat too?

  Probably not.

  They probably would’ve kept simpering.

  I look for Nev, find her spot empty. I step around Ten to get a clearer view of the incredibly quiet cafeteria. Everyone’s staring, but I don’t care. All I care about is finding Ten’s little sister.

  “Where is she?” Ten’s voice is low and raspy.

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “You have your phone?” he asks.

  I nod, rushing back over to the bench where I left my tote. I dig my phone out and, fingers shaking from the confrontation, dial Nev’s number. Ten stalks over to me. Like magnets, people’s eyes stick to the knight in moisture-wicking armor.

  “She’s not answering.” The apple juice pooled on the tabletop seems to quiver, like my harried pulse.

  I’m hoping she had to meet with a teacher before classes resume, but I’m pretty certain she left because I embarrassed her. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek as I text her: Where are you?

  Ten looks behind me at Mark the Muncher. “Sam, right?”

  “It’s Mark.”

  “Mark, where did my sister go?”

  “No clue.”

  I sling my tote over my shoulder. “What’s her next class?” I ask, not expecting Mark to be familiar with her schedule, but it can’t hurt to ask.

  “We have history together.”

  “Which classroom?”

  “E7. By the gy—”

  I don’t wait for him to finish his sentence. I remember where E7 is. I bolt down the hallway, then down a flight of stairs. My chest hurts, my lung
s are on fire, and my muscles burn. Unlike Ten, who’s already caught up to me, I wasn’t born to run or to confront people.

  We bypass the entrance to the gym, then burst into E7.

  33

  Ten Facets of Ten

  Even though the lights are off in the classroom, the pink puffiness of Nev’s lids and nose are unmistakable. I dig my heels into the floor, afraid to come any closer, afraid my presence will just make her cry more.

  She sniffles and looks up.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, at the same time as she squeaks, “Ten?”

  Ten looks at me. “Why would you be sorry?”

  “Did you tell him to come?” Nev scrubs her shiny cheeks.

  I shake my head.

  Ten waits another second for an answer from me. When none comes, he strides to the back of the room and drops into the chair closest to Nev’s. “Nev, why didn’t you tell me people were being mean to you?”

  “Because—” She lets out a sigh that’s as weak as the air wafting through the vent over my head.

  I shiver when the air hits my skin.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she mutters.

  “The fuck it doesn’t!” Ten snaps.

  I finally unglue the soles of my boots from the floor and inch toward them. “Please don’t be mad at me, Nev.”

  She picks at her purple nail polish, which is already peeling. “I’m not mad. But it’ll probably just get worse now.”

  Ten’s gaze ping-pongs between us. I can tell the moment he finally understands the reason for my apology, because he sits up straighter. “You’re mad at Angie because she went to talk with those girls?”

  I lean against the table behind me. “She asked me not to make a scene, and I made a scene.” A lame one at that.

  “It’s okay,” Nev murmurs weakly.

  Breaths pulse out of Ten’s nostrils. “How long has this been going on?”

  She shrugs.

  “Nevada Dylan, how long—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” She pulls on her hair as though she’s trying to tighten the fence around her face.

  “Because you think I’m going to give you a choice? If someone’s bullying you, you have to tell me. I’m your brother. I’m here—”

  “For now!” Nev’s voice is so sharp that Ten shrinks back. “You might be here for the next few weeks, but then—then you’ll be gone.” Her voice wavers, losing its bite but not its sting. “Just like Mom.”

  Ten goes as still as a corpse.

  A charged silence brews between the siblings and thickens the air.

  Barely moving his lips, Ten says, “I’m going away to study. I’m not abandoning you. It’s not even remotely the same thing.”

  “But it feels the same,” Nev croaks.

  He palms his hair. “Fine. I won’t go, then!”

  Her eyes fill up and leak big, fat tears that make her narrow chest heave.

  Ten mutters something under his breath, then his chair legs scrape, and he leans over and envelops her in a hug.

  How am I supposed to stay mad at someone who loves his little sister so damn much? I push away from the desk and start toward the door. I don’t feel like things are resolved between Nev and me, but I also don’t feel like I should be intruding on this moment.

  “Wait for me outside, Angie,” Ten calls out.

  I halt, cast one last look at Nev, then nod before leaving. I stand outside the door like a vigil. I check the time on my phone, figuring the first bell should ring soon.

  I sigh. It will. In this school and in ours.

  Five minutes later, the door to the classroom snicks open. I’m half expecting to see both Ten and Nev, but it’s only him.

  “She decided to stay?” I ask, trying to glimpse her through the door, which Ten left ajar.

  “Yeah.”

  “Is she okay?” I murmur.

  “Not really, but she doesn’t want me to take her home. She says it’ll just give them ammunition against her.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Fuck. I’m so pissed she didn’t tell me what was going on.”

  I wonder if she told him everything. “She didn’t want to worry you.”

  His hand stills on his taut neck. “But she told you after one weekend.”

  “It’s easier to talk about certain things with strangers.” I want to go back in the room, but it’s probably best to leave Nev alone. I favor solitude when I’m processing emotional stuff. “We should head back. We’re going to be massively late.”

  Ten glances over his shoulder, as though hesitant to leave his sister. In the end, though, he strides alongside me toward the school entrance, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his gym shorts.

  When I can’t stand the silence any longer, I say, “So … will you stay?”

  He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “I don’t know what to do anymore. Nev said it was just her anger speaking, that she didn’t mean it, that I should go.”

  “You might not want my advice, but if you’re going to be miserable here, it probably won’t help her.”

  He raises his eyes off the flagstones and sets them on the brick building in the distance.

  “Anyway, I’ll see you in class,” I say.

  When he frowns, I nod toward my bike.

  “You biked here?” he asks.

  “It was quicker.”

  “You’re one strange girl, Angela Conrad.”

  “No, I’m a practical one.” I undo the U-lock, then walk my bike back up the path toward him since it’s easier to cycle on stone than mud. I don’t climb on right away. “Are you free on Saturday?” Before he assumes I’m asking him out, I add, “Because I told Nev we’d take her clothes shopping.”

  His face goes through a myriad of emotions before settling on cautious amusement. “Clothes shopping?”

  His nonanswer makes the whole situation all the more awkward, so I start down the path, rolling my bike along. Ten’s footfalls are quiet but steady next to mine.

  “Am I going along to pay or do I get a say in what she buys?”

  “I told her she was only allowed to buy what we both okayed.” I glance over at him. “So you’re not allowed to veto everything.”

  A crooked smile lights up his whole, darn gorgeous face. The air suddenly feels a hundred degrees warmer, and yet the sun is playing hide-and-seek behind the clouds.

  I train my eyes on my handlebar in an attempt to cool off.

  “A shopping trip with two headstrong girls … what’s there not to look forward to?”

  My heart feels like it’s made of a trillion guitar strings. Each smile and glance from Ten plucks at them. I think of my double date … pray it will quiet my body’s reaction to this boy, because nothing else seems to work.

  “By the way—” he starts.

  I can feel his eyes call to mine but don’t meet his gaze.

  “Thanks for having her back.”

  “I think I made it worse. I suck at confrontations.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  I peek at him. “About having made it worse?”

  “No. About the last part. You’re incredibly good at making a person feel like crap.”

  “Are you kidding? I was totally pathetic back there.”

  “I wasn’t talking about back there. I was talking about earlier.” He juts his chin toward our building, which is looming larger even though we still have a ways to walk.

  “Oh. Well, you were a jerk yesterday.”

  He fixes his gaze on the sinuous path. He’s no longer smiling. He’s contemplative and serious. So serious. “Sometimes I forget she’s growing up, because she’s still so small.” The weight of his confession presses down on the usual taut line of his shoulders, making him stoop.

  This shows me yet another facet of Tennessee Dylan, and like most of the others that constitute him, it’s shiny and beautiful.

  “I really wish you could make it easier for me to dislike you.”

  He stops walking and pulls his shoulde
rs back, pulls his head up. “Why?”

  Oh …

  No …

  I said that out loud.

  “Um. Because—” I rack my brain for something. Anything. “Because you don’t like music, and I don’t want to be friends with someone who doesn’t like music.”

  A smirk tugs at his lips. “I thought we established that I do like music.”

  “Your mom’s music, I mean,” I add quickly.

  His expression shutters up so fast I flinch. I almost apologize for bringing her up, but realize that perhaps it isn’t such a rotten argument. However much he wishes his mother were dead, she’s not.

  She’s alive, and I’m entering her contest.

  How deeply will he hate me once he finds out?

  “I’ll see you later,” I say as I hop onto my bike and pedal away before he becomes a roadblock on the path to my success.

  34

  A Fleck of Light

  Since Monday, Ten has acted extraordinarily cold toward me, and I can’t fault him for it. It’s what I want.

  No … Not what I want. What I need.

  Thankfully, Nev’s thawed out completely toward me. All week, we’ve texted. We mostly sent each other song recommendations and screenshots of cute outfits that she hopes to find at the mall this weekend. I sense Saturday’s going to be painfully awkward with Ten, but I also sense it’s going to be incredibly important for Nev, which is the whole point of the expedition.

  It’s funny how quickly I connected to Ten’s sister. Perhaps it’s because of our shared passion for singing. Or maybe it’s because Rae’s been sort of absent from my life, so I suddenly have room for other people. Or maybe it’s because I see a little of myself in Nev. A little of myself and a lot of Mona.

  My fingers freeze on the U-lock of my bike.

  Is that it? Is this why I’ve gotten close to Nev so fast? Because getting close to her somehow feels as though I’m getting closer to her mother?

  I snap the lock in place around the railing of Lynn’s house before ringing the doorbell.

  That can’t be it.

  This can’t be the sort of person I’ve become.

  Piano music resounds from inside, and then a voice joins the instrument and harmonizes. As the scales escalate to high tones, the voice breaks. Nev mentioned she was taking a class today. Even though she didn’t tell me what time she’d be here, I’m almost certain she’s the one practicing. Every voice has a specific signature, and the gritty growl of this one tells me it’s Nev’s.