by Ruth Houston
Poor Zack, I thought despairingly. I wondered how he would take all of this. I really did feel bad about breaking up with him.
But really, what was Winter's problem, anyway? I'd been home for a total of ten minutes, and already I had gotten my best friend pissed off and dumped my boyfriend.
That, folks, is what we call time management.
Tristan popped his head into my room. "Hey Eva, how was your weekend?" He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his temple just slightly, reminding me again how tired he looked these days. His blonde hair was rumpled and he was flexing the right fingers of his hands, a habit of his when they were cramped from writing. He must have been doing homework in his room (which was right next to mine).
I sighed. "Alright, I guess," I mumbled, but still glad all the same that my big brother was here asking me how I was, no matter how busy or hectic his own life seemed at the moment. "Mom was really glad to see me."
"I'll bet," he said, entering my room and cautiously sitting down on my comforter, near the end of my bed. He picked up Bunny and fiddled with her ears idly. "Were you… just on the phone with someone?" he asked carefully, his azure eyes focused on the stuffed toy in his hands.
I paused. "Yes," I admitted.
"With Winter?"
I nodded, and even though he wasn't looking at me, I knew that he already knew what my answer was.
"Was she giving you a hard time?" Tristan asked lightly.
Again, I nodded, and again, I got the sense that he already knew the answer and was on the brink of telling me something. I waited patiently.
"She yelled at you, huh? And you yelled back." At this point, his questions were more statements than inquiries.
"Yes," I said softly.
He paused, then turned his gaze onto me. "She had a right to, you know."
"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that Winter had the right to yell at me, her best friend, just because I wanted to break up with Zack," I exclaimed hotly, sitting up.
"You haven't exactly been much of a best friend lately," Tristan said, evaluating me calmly.
"I – " What?
He cocked his head slightly, gave me a small, almost imperceptible nod, replaced Bunny, stood up smoothly with that athletic grace he was blessed with, and left the room. I stared after him. Okay, would someone care to explain that to me?
Screw him. If I didn't know any better, I might have speculated for a moment over how possible it was that Tristan had finally cracked and given in to doing some form of drugs. Now that would definitely kick him out of UCSD's good graces.
But instead I lay back down, thinking over what he said. Tristan usually chose his words very carefully; therefore, his statements were usually worth second ruminations, whether there was the threat that he was high on something or not.
So, apparently I hadn't been much of a best friend lately…
Nope, not true at all. Absolutely not.
'Wait…' I thought. Was it possible that it was true? Well, anything is possible. Consequently, it is possible that I haven't been a good best friend lately, but on the other hand, it's also not necessarily possible either because I, Eva Westley, have always been a very good best friend to Winter Bruin…
Woah. I frowned. That didn't make sense.
"Okay, slow down Eva," I whispered to my empty room.
Deep breath. Okay. Now. Have you been a good best friend to Winter, Eva?
…Ponder. Speculate. Contemplate…
The answer was no, I realized miserably after a short moment. I hadn't been. Tristan was right, and I sent him a silent apology for ever thinking he was on drugs. I hadn't spent very much time with Winter lately, I hadn't been talking to her at school, I hadn't really been sitting with her at lunch, I didn't say hi to her in the halls at Branner anymore, and for the past month, if she had ever needed me to listen, I hadn't been there for her.
'God Eva, what have you done?' I thought. A gloomy feeling overtook me, and added to my tiredness, it wasn't a good thing.
Suddenly, I couldn't stand the quiet in my room, the confining silence that left too much room for thoughts that kept chasing themselves in circles in my head.
Homework. I frantically scrambled off my bed and swiftly crouched down on the carpet next to my backpack, shuffling through my binders and books. Please, let me have something to do so I can get my mind off this…
With a grim smile, I pulled out my Pre-Cal book triumphantly. I could work ahead! I loved math. Math was good. Everything was set straight; there were rules, and if you broke the rules, everything was Wrong. Wrong, with a capital W, just like most things in my life. There were no in-betweens or uncertainties. Everything either was, or wasn't. Some would argue that it was boring, but I preferred to think of it as stable and in control.
I sighed.
~Zack~
Eva had just dumped me. If I were the type to consult people whenever my life was out of balance, my counselor would probably reassure me that life would go on, that I shouldn't think of it as "being dumped", and that thirty years from now, I would have my life perfectly figured out, defined and thoroughly analyzed the meaning of life, and that I would look back on this moment and laugh at my young, foolish stupidity.
As matters stood, I was not the type to consult people whenever my life was out of balance, because up until this afternoon, there was not a single person in this universe I knew I trusted (other than Victoria, but what respectable, middle-aged widow wants to hear about the trifling hardships of a sixteen year old?); and if I were to bother someone with all my worries, there would be a couple of old geezers that call themselves counselors who would find their precious, remaining time on this earth constantly being wasted by a person probably less than a fifth of their age. And as it was, I highly doubted that thirty years from now I would have my life perfectly figured out and defined and thoroughly analyzed the meaning of life. Furthermore, why shouldn't I think of it as "being dumped"? Because really, that's what it was. Perhaps there were nicer ways to put it, but in the end, you're just lessening the blow of the truth. Because at this moment, I – had – been – dumped.
Go me. Wave little flags. Cheer for Zack, "hurrah!", he's the best! Not the first and certainly not the last boyfriend Eva had broken things off with. That's a reassuring thought, at any rate. It sucks to be the first and last, because you're the most remembered. I was probably now just a little page in her journal of boyfriends. How very excellent.
Bitter? I prefer to think of it as dealing with troubles in a sarcastic and subtly resentful way.
Hmm, I really should work on my vocabulary. Sometimes it pays to be a tad more eloquent. It makes you sound all the more sarcastic… Now there's a thought to keep in mind, Zack…
I sighed and shifted in my seat. Thinking these thoughts would get me nowhere. With a small, humorless smile, I realized I was becoming more and more like Winter every day. Sarcasm had always been a bit of an art form with her.
But let's not think about Eva. She wasn't here right now, so I didn't have to deal with her. Thank god.
In fact, I was still at home, still in the smallest living room, still sprawled out on the couch… and Winter was still in my arms. But she was asleep.
Her head was resting perfectly in the crook of my neck, and I had slid down a little, more into a laying position so we could be more comfortable. I had been holding her for the past half hour or so, thinking all these bitter thoughts of mine that probably wouldn't help my mental state at all (even though we all know how precarious it is anyway).
It was getting late. The round clock above the television was ticking closer and closer to ten. I really could have cared less. I breathed deeply, and for a moment, allowed myself to blank out, to not think, but just to feel. The room would have been cold, but Winter's body provided more than enough warmth for me. Her breath was playing softly on my neck and the underside of my chin, calm and steady. I watched her for a long while. Deep in sleep, her features were smooth and serene. She had been so
compassionate to me today. Sometimes I wondered about her. At times, she could act like she really disliked me and that I wasn't worth her time and energy, but in the case of today, she could also be… something else. I found my eyelids drooping, my body relaxing, hearing her voice in my head, picturing that smile on her face. Once in a while, I would trail my fingers through her hair, to keep myself awake and to make sure she was still there. It might have sounded childish, I know, but her presence was comforting… I almost wasn't sure she was there.
I was really tired. A whole day with Winter would be enough to tire out anyone. And then, there was that phone call my dad gave me.
My mind was muddy, sinking deeper and deeper, becoming heavier and heavier. I struggled to keep my eyes open, but it was just too hard…
"Zack… Zack?"
"No," I mumbled. "Stop…" Someone was poking me gently.
"Zack, wake up," a familiar voice said. Very familiar. 'And very pretty,' my tired mind noted.
I forced my eyelids open and saw a fuzzy image of a beautiful girl.
"Zack, it's four AM," she said. "I have to go."
Unh. I couldn't keep my eyes open. It was Winter that was in my arms right now, right? My mind was too muddled to think straight. I shook my head, eyes shut tight. "Nope… You have to stay, I'm too… tired…"
"Zack, please," Winter said. "My dad's going to kill me if I don't show up tomorrow morning. I – have – to – leave."
I groaned. "Five more minutes, please?" I begged, sighing.
"Fine… five more minutes," she relented.
~Winter~
I couldn't help smiling just a little. He sounded so much like a little kid bargaining with his mom on a school morning.
Shoot… we had fallen asleep. I didn't really want to get up. It was too comfortable; Zack was so warm. I knew my parents wouldn't stay up to wait for me to arrive at home, because they trusted me. But if I failed to make an appearance at breakfast, there would be hell to pay.
I looked up at Zack, who, apparently, had fallen back asleep. We were almost lying down completely on the couch. In the dark of the room (had Victoria come in to turn off the lights?) his features were cast in shadow, and once again I was reminded about our conversation last night. What a mystery he was to most people.
I watched him for a while, also keeping an eye on the clock. Those enigmatic golden eyes of his were concealed at the moment, but still framed by dark, soft-looking eyelashes. I reached up and tugged ever-so-gently on a lock of his curly hair. Zack turned his head slightly in his state of half-sleep, and I resumed watching the clock. They say you learn something new every day. I had just learned my "something new": five minutes ticks by remarkably slowly at 4:17 in the morning.
When his five minutes were up (I had waited two eternities in the last minute and half, I was sure), I nudged him again.
"Come on, get up sleepy head," I said gently. "I'm going to get in trouble because of you."
He grumbled something under his breath, then said, "Okay, alright, I'm up."
There was a rather awkward moment when we both got up (I think I might have squished his arm on accident), but otherwise we made it out of the house without any trouble.
"I am so tired," Zack mumbled as we drove. His voice was low and husky, and, I couldn't help thinking, a little sexy at the moment. My breath caught in my throat.
"Me too," I replied, looking out the window. The drive would be pretty far – Galvest Street was on the other side of town from my house. "Thanks for driving me."
"Anytime," he said, his eyes of dark gold glancing at me. "I'm the one that owes you."
I shook my head. "I think we're pretty even," I said slowly. There was a short pause, then I asked timidly, "How do you feel… about Eva?"
He sighed. "Are you still mad at her?"
"Just a little pissed off," I said, knowing that he was avoiding the subject on purpose and feeling bad for bringing it up in the first place. I did want to know how much damage Eva had inflicted this time around, but took Zack's feelings into consideration at the moment too, and allowed him an easy route out of the topic. "She hasn't really been an ideal friend lately. We haven't had chances to talk."
"I see," he said softly. "Still busy with her siblings?"
"It's a little better now," I muttered. "They all have their own activities, and Tristan and Eva are holding up pretty well. Most of the Westleys can take care of themselves, anyway. I still go over maybe three to four times a week, but I don't stay for the whole afternoon."
"I always thought that it was really good of you to help them out," Zack said. "I'm not sure I would have offered them so much of my time had I been in your position."
I shrugged. "Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the ones you love."
He tilted his head thoughtfully but said nothing. "Let's listen to the radio," he said after a moment. He turned it on and allowed me flip channels. Light rock – pop – rap (what station plays rap at four in the morning?) – classical – heavy metal – mix. I stopped on a jazz station.
"You like this?" he asked, looking at me curiously.
I flushed, embarrassed. "Well, yea," I said defensively. "It's relaxing. And it's neat listening to how they can improvise so quickly…" I trailed off.
"I know what you mean, I think," Zack said.
"Do you play any instruments?"
He shifted uncomfortably. "Lots," he finally replied.
"Really?" I said, my eyes widening. "Piano?"
"Piano," he said. "Violin and viola. Cello. Double bass if called to on occasion."
"What else?" I asked, amazed. I was pretty sure that was just the beginning.
He looked at me sideways. "I'm sure you don't want to hear about all the instruments I can play," he said.
"I'm sure I do," I said.
He sighed. "Fine. Sax – all of them. Clarinet. Flute, but not often, and I've never tried piccolo."
"Percussion?" I asked. "Drums? Mallets? Xylophone? Timpani? Glockenspiel?"
He nodded. "And I can play set too."
"Nice," I said. "Trumpet?"
"Yea," he said resignedly, realizing I wasn't about to give this up easily. "Guitar too. Acoustic and electric. And bass."
"Oboe? Bassoon? French horn? Trombone? Tuba?" I rattled them off.
He seemed impressed. "You seem to know your symphony orchestra pretty well," he said mildly.
"You seem to know most of the instruments," I replied.
"Yes to all of the above except for French horn. I tried once. Too hard," he said. "And no harp or contrabassoon."
"Did your parents make you take lessons for all those instruments?" I asked, already anticipating the answer.
"Yes."
"Will you play for me sometime?" I requested.
Zack shook his head.
"Oh come on," I said. "Please? You must be really good at all of them. Musical prodigy, probably."
He laughed. "Far from it," he said.
"I knew you had lots of hidden talents," I said matter-of-factly, settling back in my seat.
"Right," he said, eye brows raised. "Hidden talents."
~*~*~*~
Chapter Fourteen: Little Changes
Winter
"Will you come with me next Sunday? To the airport."
"If you want me there, I'll come with you," I said simply.
Zack gave me one of his half-smiles. We were sitting outside, eating our lunches on the lonely bleachers all the way at the opposite end of the football field from where the jocks chose to spend their lunch hour. They were there now, most of the football team, and a few basketball players. I could spot Martin and Tristan easily.
I was pulled out of my thoughts when Zack asked me, "Did Eva say anything to you this morning?"
I glanced at him but didn't answer right away, buying time by pulling a piece of lettuce out of my sandwich and sticking it in my mouth. I had seen Eva once this morning. It didn't seem like she had been trying to catch my attention or apo
logize, so I ignored her. It was alright though. I had figured that this would happen. If you think I'm proud at times, you have yet to see Eva's pride in action. It didn't matter if she realized she owed me an apology or not – either way, she wouldn't approach me until I made things easier for her to accept.
"No," I finally said after I swallowed. "I didn't."
"I'm sure she'd like to apologize," he said as carefully as he could through a mouthful of apple.
"I think she owes you an apology more than she owes me one," I muttered. "We're friends. We'll get over it."
~Zack~
I stayed silent. Eva was still a topic fresh in both of our minds, though not a pleasant one.
I looked sideways at my lunch companion of the day. If you had told me a month ago that one day I would be sitting with Winter Bruin at lunch, I would have deemed you crazy – she probably would have preferred gutting me and watching as my entrails oozed out, Dark Ages style. Now I don't remember why the notion seemed so absurd in the first place. She seemed a little moody today, but had agreed to my request that she come with me when I went to pick up my parental units.
Half-way through November, the northern coastal winds of California were definitely picking up. We were sitting next to each other with our backs to the wind, letting our jackets take the brunt of the cold. Winter's hair was down today, and wisps of it were constantly being picked up by the wind. Once in a while, she would turn around to face the wind, frustrated, and sweep her hair back so it wouldn't get in her face. She did so now, and I chuckled.
"What?" she asked me defiantly, twisting her hair up in a bun but promptly letting it go in defeat anyway. "Stupid wind keeps getting my hair all over the place."
"You should just leave it alone," I said. "You look like you're in a music video or something."
Suddenly Winter grinned. "Like how they always blow wind in their faces as they sing so their hair will do sexy stuff?"
