Some Kind of Normal

by Juliana Stone

  Ugh. Insta love is annoying.

  It wasn’t until I read Hailey’s last text that I realized I’d been waiting in the library for nearly twenty minutes. I sent Trevor a text—he was super late—and waited another five before scooping up my bag. I was irritated.

  I thought of that slow crooked smile and the way he’d looked at me. I was irritated, and—there was no other word for it—I was disappointed. For some stupid reason I thought we’d connected Saturday. We lay beside each other at Baker’s Landing for a long time, not touching, but somehow it felt as if I was wrapped up in Trevor Lewis. And that had felt…nice. No. Nice is too easy of a word to describe what it felt like, but for now, I guess it would have to do since I had nothing else.

  Tossing my bag across my shoulder, I marched out of the library, wincing when I walked into the sunshine. I checked my phone one last time and muttered to myself as I took off down the sidewalk.

  He could have at least called to let me know he wasn’t going to make it. That’s what you did so as not to inconvenience someone. And that’s what I was feeling. Very inconvenienced.

  I’d taken maybe ten steps when something tingled along the back of my neck. Some invisible radar that made me hyperaware. Slowly I yanked the buds from my ears and glanced across the street toward the park.

  A guy leaned against one of the big old oak trees, hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, a bag at his feet. His head was down so he didn’t see me, because his hair covered most of his face while his one foot tapped the ground furiously.

  Trevor.

  I must have said his name out loud, because he raised his head. Or maybe I hadn’t said anything at all and it was coincidence.

  But as I stared across the street at him, I couldn’t deny the little bit of happiness I felt. Chest tight, I waved again and then lifted the hair off the back of my neck.

  I felt like I was back in sixth grade, staring across the closet at this boy who was larger than life. A boy whose gravity pull was so strong, it was enough to suck me in.

  He lifted his chin as if to say hey and gave a small wave.

  I could have done one of two things at this point. I could have given him the sort of salute he deserved. You know, the big old bird salute. Or I could let his gravity work its magic and pull me in.

  Two guesses as to which one won.

  “Everly,” he said, a hint of gruff in his voice.

  I’d crossed the street and stood a few inches away, wary of his pull and not entirely sure I’d made the right choice.

  “You’re really late,” I retorted.

  For a moment his eyes dropped, and I felt like a shit.

  “Sorry, I just…” His voice trailed off as he stared across the street at the library. “I’ve been out here for almost half an hour. My dad dropped me off on his way back from lunch, but I just…”

  A few awkward moments passed as I watched him, and it was then I knew.

  “Mrs. Henney can be a little overwhelming. I get it.”

  His eyes shot back to mine, and for the first time since we started this whole thing, I felt as if I was seeing the real Trevor Lewis. Sure, he looked like he had his shit together, but he was scared and kind of messed up, and I was pretty sure he didn’t want to talk about what had happened with Mrs. Henney. We both know as soon as she saw him, she’d be all over that.

  “Do you want to study at my house?”

  I did not say that. What the hell?

  His eyes softened, and the way he tilted his head to look down at me had my heart leaping all over the place like a fistful of jumping beans.

  “Are you sure?”

  No. My dad was home, and being around him was about the last place I wanted to be. Pretending that all was shiny and happy in my world wasn’t exactly easy, at least not lately. But pretending in front of a crowd? That would be plain awful.

  A slow crooked smile was making its way across Trevor’s face, and there went those jumping beans again.

  Trevor Lewis might be damaged, but he was also dangerous, and I knew him well enough to know that his smile wasn’t exclusive. The power of that smile was legendary. I had to remember that even though a direct result of the power of said smile was a stomach full of butterflies, we were only study buddies. Nothing more.

  Today, he was relieved that he didn’t have to face his demons. There would be no Mrs. Henney. No one staring or asking inappropriate questions.

  I totally got that, and I knew his beautiful smile wasn’t one hundred percent for me.

  As we slowly headed down the street to my home, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be the girl on the receiving end of that smile and to know it was all for her.

  Chapter Nine

  Trevor

  Everly’s family was a lot different than I expected. For one, her mom doesn’t look anything like the woman I remembered from when I was younger. Not surprising. When I was twelve, I wasn’t checking out my classmates’ mothers because I was more interested in frogging and football than girls.

  But I wasn’t twelve anymore, and right now it was a fact that Terry Jenkins was hot. I’m not talking “she looks good for an older lady” kind of hot. I’m talking she looked like she could have starred in one of those CW shows that my sister watches. As a mom, of course, but an insanely hot mom.

  I totally saw where Everly got her looks.

  Her dad seemed like a really nice guy and not overly churchy at all, which was a relief, because the last thing I needed was to be grilled about my family’s absence. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and we chatted about football while he grilled up some burgers. Mrs. Jenkins had come in when I was packing up my laptop and invited me to stay for dinner. I said yes, because truthfully, I wasn’t ready to go home yet—being around Everly made me feel good—and these days, I’d take some good when I could get it.

  When I was with Everly, I didn’t think about the word seizure or picture contorted freaks in my head. We studied the constitution, debated certain merits, and though I’m sure I skipped words or said some things wrong or backward, she didn’t point it out or make me feel like a loser.

  I’d been doing that a lot more since Thursday, but the doctor told me that it could happen when I was under stress, and if having a seizure isn’t something to stress about, I don’t know what is.

  Speaking of stress, I was getting the feeling that I wasn’t the only one who was dealing with it. Something was off with Everly. She’d gotten real quiet when her mother came home, and a couple of times I’d caught this weird look in her eyes when she was looking at her father, like she was halfway to sad. And halfway to anywhere other than happy wasn’t a great place to be. I should know. I’d been halfway to somewhere else for the last year.

  “Burgers are ready,” Mrs. Jenkins said as Everly’s dad walked in from outside.

  Mrs. Jenkins insisted that I sit beside Everly, and after we said grace, her little brother Isaac kept the conversation rolling with 101 questions about music and football and Mustangs. The kid had noticed my dad’s car that first day I’d picked up Everly, and like most boys under ten, he had a one-track mind. Now it was cars, but when he got to my age? Yeah. We won’t go there.

  Isaac asked me at least three times if I would take him for a spin, and each time, I’d told him that the car was in the shop. Technically, it was true. Dad was fixing the carburetor, and I didn’t feel the need to share the fact that I had to go six months without another seizure before I’d be able to drive again.

  “The salad is great,” I said, nodding to Everly’s mother.

  She smiled this great big smile, and I sat up a little straighter.

  “You’re so sweet,” she said, reaching for the wine bottle. “Isn’t he sweet, Eric?” She poured herself another glass, took a sip, and then settled back in her chair, eyes on me before sliding to Everly and then ba
ck to me.

  “The caramelized walnuts and goat cheese are what make this salad a standout.” She giggled and I thought that maybe she’d been into the wine while Pastor Jenkins had been outside grilling up the burgers. “It’s always been one of Eric’s favorites.” She took another big sip of wine, “You still like it, don’t you, Eric?”

  A pause. I glanced around the table.

  “My salad?” Mrs. Jenkins asked, emphasizing the words as if they meant something other than what they really did. That was the thing about adults. Why don’t they just say what they mean?

  An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as Pastor Jenkins frowned and took a few moments to answer. “Of course I do, Terry. You’re a wonderful cook.”

  “Yes,” she said softly, and for one second, I thought she looked as sad as my mom used to look, back when I first woke up. It was fifty percent unsure and fifty percent afraid. “Yes,” she said again. “I should make it more often.”

  We ate in silence, though when I say we ate, I mean that Isaac and I dug in with gusto. Everyone else just kind of picked at their food, and I don’t think Everly ate more than two bites of her burger.

  Pastor Jenkins cleared his throat and looked my way. “So, Trevor. I understand Everly is helping you out with your government exam.”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir. I…ah…I need it to graduate.”

  “What are your plans after you get your diploma? Everly here has been accepted to Brown.”

  Huh. She hadn’t mentioned that to me. I shot her a quick look, but she was staring at her plate as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

  “I plan on heading to New York, sir.”

  He shook his head. “Please, call me Eric. What’s waiting for you in New York?”

  “Music,” I replied. “There’s a liberal arts college I want to go to, but that’s not for sure just yet.” Which meant I had no idea if I could do college.

  His eyes softened a bit. “You’ve had quite a year. Your parents must be proud of how you’re handling things. Working hard, moving on. Chasing your dreams.”

  I’m not sure if proud was the exact word I’d use to describe what my parents felt about my situation. Relieved would be a better choice. Grateful even better.

  “They had it way worse than me.” The words came out before I could stop them, and Pastor Jenkins gave a knowing smile.

  “There is nothing more stressful for a parent than feeling helpless because your child is suffering.”

  I couldn’t be sure, but I thought that Everly snorted when he said that. A quick glance to the side told me she was still more interested in picking at her burger than eating it. Maybe I was hearing things.

  “Trevor.” That was Mrs. Jenkins again. “Am I mistaken in thinking that you enjoy singing as well as playing the guitar?”

  “I…”

  My brain rolled back to this morning when I’d grabbed my Les Paul and tried to run a few scales. They sounded like crap. I’d been too distracted and eventually had given up, playing a few chords over and over again until Taylor screamed at me to shut the hell up. She was still mad and blamed me for the fact that Mom had grounded her an extra two days because of her epic meltdown.

  Maybe she didn’t deserve it, but then, she’d apparently dropped the f-bomb more than once. My parents are fairly tolerant when it comes to certain things, but the f-word wasn’t one of them. The f-word was not allowed. Ever.

  “I’m slowly getting my chops back,” I eventually replied.

  She was filling up her wineglass again, and I caught the way Everly’s bottom lip stretched thin as she stared across the table at her mother.

  “Eric used to play the guitar for us, but it’s been a long time. Honey, why don’t you get out your acoustic and play us a song after dinner? That would be so nice. Don’t you think that would be nice?”

  “I haven’t played in ages, Terry.”

  “No,” she answered, rolling out the one word. “No, there are a lot of things you haven’t done lately.”

  Okay. Now she was saying what she meant, and I was wishing she’d kind of kept that one to herself.

  “Jesus,” Everly muttered.

  “What was that?” her father asked, though his eyes never left her mother.

  “Nothing,” Everly replied. “Nothing,” she said a little louder before turning to me. “Are you done eating?”

  There was still food on my plate, so technically I wasn’t, but the look in her eyes said that I was.

  “Yeah.”

  She pushed her chair back. “I’ll take you home.”

  I had no idea what was going on with her family, but there was a weird vibe I hadn’t noticed before. Mrs. Jenkins was reaching for the nearly empty bottle of wine, eyes on her husband, and I could almost hear the f-word falling from her lips. It was like she was daring him to say something.

  From my experience, limited as it was, alcohol and weird vibes meant trouble. It was time to go.

  I thanked Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins for dinner, and though they protested strongly and said dessert was going to be delicious, I think they were probably relieved when I left. Or at least the pastor was. Everly’s mother was already searching for another bottle of “God’s juice,” I think she called it.

  I scooped up my stuff and followed Everly out to the car, and we took off toward home.

  Except we didn’t go to my place. She kept driving, and I kept quiet. It just kind of felt right to sit there and not say anything. Eventually she pulled into Baker’s Landing and cut the engine.

  “Do you want to…” Her eyes were shiny, her voice a little wobbly. I nodded.

  “Yeah. We can sit by the water if you want.”

  I followed her to the edge of the pond and sat my butt down beside her. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but something had happened back at her place, and I could tell that she was upset.

  “Hey, are you all right?” I asked, nudging her with my knee.

  She took a few seconds, shook her head, and whispered, “No.”

  Shit. I wasn’t real good at this kind of thing. Most of the girls I’d dated—and not that Everly and I were dating, so this was just a general snapshot of what I knew—but when those girls got all emotional, it was usually because (A) I hadn’t paid enough attention to them, or (B) they thought I liked someone else (hell, I can’t help it if a guy and a guitar is all it takes for some random girl to send you inappropriate text messages), or (C) I’d just broken up with them.

  For each of those scenarios, I was good. I knew what to do, how to act and how to react. But this here? What was going on with Everly? This was new territory, and I wasn’t sure of the right protocol. I guess it’s because I’d never really been friends with a girl. Sure, I’d done the friends-with-benefits type of hookup, but this was so not that. This was something more. Something undefined, at least for me.

  Did I put my arm around her? Did I just shut the hell up and listen?

  I thought about it for a few moments and opted for the shutting up and listening, because those shiny eyes of hers were now filled with tears and I didn’t want to do something wrong and make them spill.

  “Remember what I said on Saturday?” Her voice was so soft and low, I had to bend close so that I could hear her. “About the hiding?”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “There’s stuff going on…stuff that I know…stuff that I think my mom kind of knows but isn’t really sure about, you know? And I don’t know what to do. About the knowing part. If that makes sense.”

  Okay. That was both vague and telling at the same time. She turned toward me and looked so incredibly sad that I couldn’t help myself. I reached for her, because I wanted to and because this girl who normally had it together looked more lost and afraid than anyone I knew.

  My arms went around her shoulder, and she half collapsed,
half crawled onto my lap, her face buried in my neck.

  She was warm and soft and hurting. And suddenly I wanted to be the guy she confided in. The guy she turned to. It was hard to explain, but there was this rush of something that settled in my chest. It was tight and emotional and real. I knew it was real because it kind of hurt.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked carefully.

  She shook her head and settled in some more, the entire weight of her body sunk into mine. It was a weird time to think it, but the thought crossed my mind that we sort of fit together perfectly.

  “No,” she replied. “Can we just stay here for a while?”

  Stay here for a while? Everything about this felt good, and I’d stay the whole damn night just to be her guy, the one she needed.

  “Whatever you need.”

  “You must think I’m the most pathetic girl on the planet.” She moved and glanced up at me.

  I reached for a single, solitary tear that had slid from her eye and lay against her cheek. Carefully I wiped it away and shook my head.

  “Nope, that’s not even close. I think that like you said, you’ve got some stuff going on. Stuff that you’re having a hard time dealing with, and I get that. I’ve been there. I guess we all get there sometime. It’s just some of us get there first and some of us stay there a long time. You need someone right now.”

  Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes slid away. I grabbed her chin so that she could see me. Really see me.

  “And I’m glad it’s me.”

  For a few moments neither one of us said anything else, and then she kind of shuddered and melted against me.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  I’m not sure how long we sat there, but it was long enough for me to realize that I wanted to know this girl in a way I’d never felt before. This wasn’t about partying and hooking up. It wasn’t about sex either (though I’m not going to lie, I’d be all over that if she was willing).

  It was about meeting someone who kind of knocked you on your ass. A girl who wasn’t anything like I imagined. A girl who was hiding stuff, and just like me, she was hoping no one would notice.