Not Today

by MC Lee

  “My dad’s fine. He’s looking around for other work.”

  “And your mother?”

  I threw a panicked look at Noah, but he gave a tiny shake of his head to let me know he hadn’t said anything.

  “She’s doing her best,” I replied carefully.

  “It must be very hard for her,” Mrs. Davis said quietly.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

  “I don’t know how you stand it. I don’t think I could go on living if my brother was killed.” Hannah’s dramatic declaration startled the room into silence. I swallowed down an unexpected lump in my throat.

  Mrs. Davis read my agitation and threw a pointed look at her daughter. “I think we should probably change the subject. Emmett has answered enough personal questions for one night.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t think it was meant to be rude.” I wasn’t quite sure why I jumped to Hannah’s defense, except that I totally understood the confused look on her face. Negotiating the rules of adult conversation wasn’t easy.

  Hannah flashed me a grateful smile, and I felt my lips twitch in response. I could imagine she was a total pain in the ass to have around all the time, but she obviously loved her brother.

  Luckily for me, Noah stepped in. “Enough with the third degree. Emmett, do you want some more potatoes?”

  We got through dinner, which was delicious, with no more awkwardness. Noah’s parents were charming and thoughtful, and they talked easily and laughed frequently. It was so different to my own dinner table, and I couldn’t just blame that on my dad’s recent slide.

  We’d never been much for family meals. Sure, there had been a fixed menu of decent, though bland food that was served at exactly six o’clock every night. You could set your watch by the time we all sat down to dinner, just as you could figure out the day of the week by looking at the food on your plate. There was always a jug of water on the table and a bottle of beer beside my father’s fork. When Jamie turned twenty-one, his glass of water was replaced with a long-necked Bud. The TV was always on, the only conversation any of us needed.

  When dinner was finished, I offered to help with the dishes, but Mrs. Davis waved me off. “You boys go enjoy yourselves. Noah, give Emmett a ride home later.”

  “Will do, Ma.” He turned toward Hannah. “We’re taking the family room tonight.”

  Hannah screwed up her nose. “No fair. There’s a movie on Netflix I want to watch. And I want to hang out with Emmett too.”

  “Not tonight, Hannah,” Mrs. Davis said. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing lots of Emmett from now on, won’t we?”

  “I hope so, Mrs. Davis,” I said. A huge part of me was anxious just saying the words out loud. But that part was at war with the little voice inside my head begging to be allowed to return.

  Hannah pouted, but she cheered up when Noah said, “If you quit whining about it, you can go watch your movie in my bedroom.” She had spun on her heels and was halfway out the room before I even registered that she’d moved. “Don’t snoop through my stuff!” Noah yelled to her retreating back.

  I followed him into a surprisingly intimate room that was dominated by a TV with the largest screen I’d ever seen. Noah threw himself down onto a couch, tugging at my hand so that I went down with him. He reached for the remote and clicked through the channels, stopping at an old black-and-white horror movie that had probably not been scary to its original audience and hadn’t improved with age. I threw a sidelong glance his way.

  “No accounting for taste.”

  “It’s The Pit and the Pendulum,” he said, as though that should have some kind of significance for me. I shrugged.

  “Sacrilege!” He shoved my shoulder, and somehow the movement turned into a hug, which transformed into a kiss. His lips were soft, and I found myself slipping my hand up and into his hair and loving the feel of it against my fingers. The kiss was sweet and a little desperate, but just when Noah started to moan into my mouth, sending an electric thrill straight to my tight groin, I gasped and pulled back.

  There was no way I could do this here. Not after his mom had cooked me a beautiful meal; not after his dad restrained himself so heroically from asking me awkward questions; not with his sister only one flight of stairs away. It felt like I was betraying them.

  Noah let me pull away, although he looked momentarily bewildered. “They obviously know I’m gay,” he said. “If that’s what’s bothering you.”

  “I don’t want to get too carried away,” I mumbled.

  He shook his head, but he didn’t push it. We spent the rest of the evening watching the cheesy movie and occasionally touching, and for the moment it was enough just to feel the warmth of another person close to me.

  On the way out, Mrs. Davis gave me a huge plastic bag filled with Tupperware containers stuffed with food.

  “For your parents,” she said. “I hope they won’t be insulted by leftovers.”

  I felt bad compounding my lies with another layer of bullshit, but I pasted on a smile. “Thanks. They’ll really appreciate that you thought of them.”

  “Perhaps next time they’ll be able to joins us,” she said kindly. “You’ll come again, won’t you?”

  “Ma, give him a break,” Noah groaned.

  “You’re always welcome,” Mrs. Davis said, waving Noah away. “I mean that, Emmett. We’d love to see you again.”

  I stammered my thanks and stumbled out of the house, climbing into the passenger seat of Noah’s Jeep.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, sounding sheepish. “Hope she didn’t come on too strong.”

  “No, it was really nice,” I mumbled.

  Although I’d never admit it because it was irredeemably square to voice the emotion, it had been amazing. I used to push my mother away when she tried to coddle me, thinking myself too cool, too grown up, too manly. After Jamie died, so much of her seemed to fade away right in front of my eyes: her crooked smile, the light in her eyes, the blush on her cheeks. I’d have given almost anything to have her fuss over me then, to touch my face or muss my hair or just look at me without that deep dark pain behind her eyes. But she couldn’t pull it together, and there was nothing I could do to help her.

  When we reached the end of my street, I said, “Pull over here.”

  Noah threw a confused glance at me, but he did as I asked. I gathered up my jacket and shirt and the bag full of food, and reached for the door handle.

  Noah’s lips compressed into a tight line. “Who are you afraid will see me?”

  I thought about lying, but the look in Noah’s eyes killed the lie on my lips. “Mrs. Sweeney thinks you’re a girl,” I said.

  “And you’d prefer it to stay that way.” His certainty made me wince, because he was absolutely right.

  “She’s not exactly the progressive type.”

  “You’re not giving her a chance. Maybe she’ll surprise you,” Noah suggested.

  I tried to maintain a neutral tone, though it was hard in the face of Noah’s irrationally naive view of the world. “You’ve lived here, what, three months, and you already know the place and the people better than me?”

  “It isn’t that,” he retorted. “You just seem to believe that everything will always be the same, that everybody is fixed. People change, Emmett. They learn. They grow—”

  “Maybe the people you know,” I cut in, abandoning neutrality for sarcasm. “Maybe the people who can buy their way out of their problems—”

  “Shit, this again!” Noah shook his head in frustration. “One day you’ll figure out that the truth is the only thing worth living for.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” I countered. “You’re not living my truth.”

  I climbed out of the Jeep and slammed the door shut, feeling like a dick but knowing I wasn’t in a position to do anything differently. Me and the truth were no longer on intimate terms, and no amount of moralizing from Noah Davis was going to change that.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I WA
SN’T surprised when Noah texted early on Monday morning with the excuse that he was running late and wouldn’t be able to pick me up. I knew I’d disappointed him, that he’d believed I was something different, something honest and upstanding just like he was. But I wasn’t those things, and I hadn’t been for a very long time.

  Which didn’t make the rejection any easier.

  My morose mood wasn’t improved when I ran into Foster as I padlocked my bike to the rack. I realized I was in for a dose of his special brand of bullshit when he smirked at me knowingly.

  “I knew he’d figure it out sooner or later.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t care.” I tried to brush past him, but he stood his ground.

  “I’m talking about Noah Davis, of course.”

  “Get out of my way, Foster,” I snarled.

  Foster carried on blithely. “I get it. He’s been around. He’s seen some shit. He feels guilty and wants to help the underprivileged so he pays your way. I guess it’s a bonus for him that you give good head.”

  “You about finished?” I said tightly. “Because what’s between me and Noah is none of your business. Now get out of my fucking way.”

  “Hey, man. I didn’t make the rules. That’s just the way it is,” Foster said, throwing up his hands. He stepped aside, but he followed me into school, his voice grating on my nerves as he continued a steady stream of drivel. “He pays your way, you suck his dick. Whatever. But it doesn’t change a goddamned thing. He’s one of us. Everybody knows that. And deep down inside, you know it too, Easy.”

  I stormed into the classroom with Foster on my heels. Noah looked up, the smile freezing on his face when he saw my thunderous expression. He raised a hand to beckon me into the seat beside him, but I wasn’t in the mood to explain or try to find excuses, so I purposefully ignored him and hurried to the back of the room.

  I felt his eyes on me as I lurched blindly toward an empty seat, and it was no surprise when I sat down hard to see that Foster had slid into the seat beside Noah and was gesticulating wildly.

  I tried to put them both out of my mind and concentrate on the lesson, but it was no use. Noah kept turning his head and sliding looks at me, and I felt shame and guilt burning in my gut. Foster was a dickhead and an asshole, but that didn’t make him wrong. Noah deserved better than a dishonest coward with a chip on his shoulder and a mess of a life.

  At the end of the lesson, I shot out of my seat, hoping to get out of the classroom as quickly as possible. But sitting at the back of the room had been a stupid move, and Noah was waiting for me at the door.

  “What did Foster say?” he demanded.

  “Nothing.” I pushed past him and into the hallway.

  Seconds later Noah was walking by my side. “Talk to me, Emmett,” he said.

  “Just a few home truths. Nothing I didn’t already know.” I picked up the pace and took the stairs two at a time. When I got to the chemistry lab, I hurriedly slid into a seat in the front row, next to Gerald Yuen, a skinny, nervous kid who looked startled that anybody would actually choose to sit beside him.

  Noah barreled through the door and stopped when he saw me. He then strode purposefully to where I was sitting and smiled down at Gerald.

  “Hey, man. Do you mind moving? Emmett and I have to talk.”

  “We really don’t,” I said.

  Gerald, who had already started to gather up his books, froze in place.

  “Am I moving, or not?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “If you don’t mind, Gerald,” Noah said smoothly.

  Gerald muttered something under his breath and then grabbed his books and stood up. Noah slipped into the chair he had vacated and turned his head.

  “I don’t know what that idiot Foster said to you, but you know it has nothing to do with me, right?”

  I threw him a tight smile. “He didn’t tell me anything I hadn’t figured out for myself.”

  Noah reached out and gripped my arm. “Foster doesn’t speak for me. Nobody does. So, whatever he said to you is his shit, not mine.”

  “I’m not talking about this here,” I said curtly. I’m not sure if he would have backed off, but he had little option when the chemistry teacher walked through the door.

  At lunchtime I stormed past the football team, waving off Cal when he called out to me and ignoring Foster’s smug smirk, and I found an empty table as far away from them as possible. When Noah walked in, there was no hesitation, he sailed straight past the team and slid in beside me, depositing a full tray on the table between us.

  “So, what’s going on?” he demanded.

  “Nothing’s going on.”

  Without missing a beat, Noah edged the tray closer to me, and when I didn’t make a move, he picked up one of the wrapped sandwiches and deposited it in front of me. Foster’s ugly words rang in my head, and my spine stiffened.

  “How can I help if you won’t tell me what’s wrong?” Noah asked, his brow furrowing. “Look, if it’s about what I said on Saturday—”

  “I never asked you for anything,” I blurted. “Not the food you’re always buying, not the rides into school, not even a fucking cup of coffee. Nothing.”

  “I know that, Emmett,” he said, confusion written all over his face. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

  “Let me make this real easy for you, Noah. I’m not here to make you feel better about yourself. I’m not your fucking charity case.”

  His eyes grew round, and he bit down hard on his lip. And maybe it hurt just a little bit when he picked up his tray wordlessly and walked away.

  I COULD feel Hannah’s eyes on me as I walked down the hallway later that day, and by the time I’d shuffled all the way to the end of the corridor, I was unnerved by her fixed gaze.

  “How’s it going?” I asked warily.

  Her glare was eloquent and not wholly unexpected.

  “Why are you being such a jerk to Noah?” she demanded. “If you’re mad at him because he couldn’t give you a ride this morning, it’s only because he was helping me with a project that was due today.”

  I felt my insides shrivel up. As usual I’d imagined the world revolved around me and my problems. If I’d thought about it for more than a minute, I’d have realized that Noah was way too decent to let me down just because we’d argued.

  “I’m not mad at him for that,” I said.

  “Then why?”

  “Look, Hannah, there are some things you don’t understand—”

  “Explain them, then,” she barked.

  I dragged a hand through my hair. There was no way I was unloading any of this on Noah’s sister. “It’s complicated—”

  “That’s bullshit,” she said, cutting off the cliché midstream. “You’re acting like he’s the same as everybody else. But he isn’t.”

  “I know that, Hannah—”

  “No you don’t,” she snapped. “Because if you really knew it, you wouldn’t treat him like this. He really likes you, Emmett. And you’re hurting him. And if you can’t see that, you’re an idiot.”

  I started at the vehemence of her words. She was right. I was treating Noah like I treated all the rich kids, and he didn’t deserve that. He’d been unfailingly kind and supportive, and he’d never done anything to make me feel I was a drag on him. I’d managed to forget one of the basic rules of Whitmore High—that John Foster was a dick and a douchebag who didn’t know shit.

  “You’re right. I’m being a jerk. What do you think I should do about it?” I asked.

  Hannah’s blinding smile was so like Noah’s it took my breath away. “Figure it out for yourself, dumbass.”

  I FOUND Noah in the library, half-hidden in the back, his head bent over his books.

  “Those last two questions were a bitch.”

  He looked up, startled, and nodded warily when he saw me standing over him.

  “You want to take a look at my answers?” I didn’t sit down, not sure he wanted me to
stick around.

  “You don’t mind?” he asked.

  “Knock yourself out.” I slid my workbook across the table, and when he picked it up, I finally sat. I opened my chemistry textbook and pretended to read, but secretly I was watching him.

  He was frowning in concentration as he read through my answers and then began scribbling into his own workbook. His big, bold writing spread across the page, and I smiled when he stuck his pen between his teeth as he reread his work, making him look like a nerdy kid.

  “My folks were glad you came over,” he said quietly. “Hannah had told them a lot about you.”

  I snorted, wondering what the hell she had found to say that a parent would want to hear.

  Noah answered the unasked question. “She said you were a star football player, an artist, a champion of the underdog, an all-around great guy. You sounded pretty amazing.”

  “I’ll bet you wished you’d met that guy instead of this one,” I deadpanned.

  Noah smiled ruefully. “I like the one I know just fine.” He sobered suddenly. “I’m not like the rest of them, Emmett.”

  “I know.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Do you? Or did you make up your mind about me as soon as you saw me?” He licked his lips and considered me. His gaze was so intense I had to consciously stop myself from squirming in my seat. “They accept me here because my family has money, and that’s what’s important in Whitmore. So I haven’t gotten the kind of shit I’ve had in other places.”

  “Other people have given you a hard time?” I asked.

  “Some places I’ve been, no amount of money could buy acceptance. Some places I’ve been, you have to be one thing or the other. You can’t be both. You understand?”

  I understood. From the things he’d told me, I knew he straddled two worlds. He’d lived black and he’d lived white; he was a rich kid who’d inhabited a poor kid’s world; he was gay when straight was the standard; he was an outsider living on the inside. For the first time ever, I understood that money didn’t guarantee tolerance. It couldn’t buy respect. It couldn’t even persuade a dumb Whitmore hick to accept friendship.