Paper Planes and Other Things We Lost

by Michele G Miller

  I allow myself a full blown smile and tip my head. “I guess I will.” Carmen isn’t going to be happy about this. Amber might blow a gasket, too. Hope hits me with another wide smile. Oh well, let them be mad. It’s harmless flirting. Right?

  ***

  Growing up Mom told us the stars were wishes made when someone blew out a birthday candle. I like the idea. Amber and I used to search the sky for our old wishes, pointing out stars and claiming them as our own. On our eighteenth birthday we sent twin stars into the sky, asking for our parents to come back. Two more wishes in a sky of hopes and dreams. Tonight, there are wishes everywhere. The sky shows off, thanks to a cold front pushing in and clearing out the cloud cover. I scan the expanse for satellites and planets—and possibly an old wish or two—enjoying some peace as I lay in the snow.

  “I see the Big Dipper.”

  “Hope?” I arch back. What is she doing here?

  “I was told I could find a snowboarder out here. I was hoping to see some moves.” She settles on her knees next to me as I sit. “Hi.”

  “Hi, yourself. You drove out here to see me?” She’s bundled up in snow gear and boots, a teal knit hat covering her hair.

  She scoops snow into her gloved hand. “I didn’t feel like waiting by the phone and being disappointed.” She tosses her snowball before I can reply. “So, hey, I’m new to snowboarding and all, but I could have sworn you’re supposed to be riding that thing down the hill.” She crawls toward the board laying by my feet. She slides it back and forth across the snow then looks at me. “You painted these pictures, didn’t you?” Her fingers hover over the whorls of color decorating my snowboard.

  “Yeah, it’s a mess.” I’ve covered the original design three times over with whatever artistic whim hit me at the moment. The last time I put a brush to it, it was to copy Van Gogh’s Starry Night. The swirls in his painting remind me of snow drifts, so I slapped on red, yellow, blue, and streaks of green across the top of my board, mimicking his masterpiece.

  Hope shakes her head. “It’s beautiful. You could sell this.” Sell my work? Art is a huge part of my life, but it’s a hobby. I’ve never considered . . . “Are you done for the night,” she asks when I don’t reply.

  It must be after 10:30. The last lift went up at 9:30 and the trails closed at 10. By now the lodge and lockers have cleared out. “Yeah. Eddie’s probably ready to shut down.” I roll to my feet, extending a hand and helping Hope up.

  She tugs her cap over her ears. “Don’t tell Amber I drove up here, ‘kay?”

  I wouldn’t mention this to Amber even if Hope didn’t ask me not to. She shivers. “You need muffs if you’re going to be out here. I thought you skied? You should know better.” An image of Amber, Hope, and Lisa in bunny classes years ago flashes before my eyes.

  “Not for years. I’m not sure why I stopped.” She hugs herself, rubbing her arms. “Probably because I was always so cold.”

  I don’t notice the cold. Mom bought me the warmest ski gear she could find on clearance last spring. Snug as a bug in a rug, she teased when I tried it on. She was right.

  I nudge my board toward Hope’s feet. “Okay, get on.”

  “Get on?” She shifts from foot to foot.

  “Yes.” Her eyes flit from my face to the board, and back. I rest a hand under her elbow, urging her to move. “You have on boots, slip them in the straps. I’ll push you back to the lodge. It’ll be like skateboarding.”

  “On snow!” She chokes, shaking her head. Her right foot lifts into the air and she hesitates. “I don’t even know which foot goes in front,” she whines, plunking her hands on her hips and backing away.

  I bite the inside of my cheek as Hope’s lip juts out. The pout and sullen hands on hips stance should irritate me, but on Hope it’s tempting. I step closer and push Hope in the back, my eyes honed in on her feet as she stumbles forward. She curses at me the same way Amber does; no wonder they’re best friends. The levity chases my temptation away.

  “You’re goofy.” I swing the board around, facing the nose in the direction we want to go.

  “And you’re mental.” She crosses her arms over her stomach.

  My chest vibrates with suppressed laughter. “Goofy. It means right foot in front.” I wave at her right leg and point at the board.

  She swipes her gloved hands up and down her thighs as she cocks her head from side to side. She’s so nervous. Finally, she steps forward.

  With her feet strapped in, I settle my hands on either side of her waist and give her a gentle shove. The board glides over the compact snow effortlessly. Every few steps, she wobbles, her fingers clutching at my wrists for balance. She giggles. Too bad I can’t see her face. Does she look like I feel when I’m snowboarding? Riding is the one thing keeping me sane these days—I’m glad she’s enjoying it.

  The steepled roof of the lodge comes into view on the other side of a snow bank, and I slow my steps. “Why did you drive up here, Hope?”

  Her muscles stiffen beneath my fingers. “I was worried about you. Amber’s been such a mess and I just . . . well I wondered if you weren’t a mess, too. I haven’t seen you around much lately.”

  I drop my hands as she shakes her boots from the straps of my board. We lock eyes for a long minute. Silent, narrow-eyed stares. She exudes uncertainty. Her shoulders curve in as her small hands play at the sleeves of her jacket. She inhales, her eyes scanning the space around us. She’s either worried about stray animals attacking us or she’s nervous. I search for words to fill the awkward silence between us.

  “You’re right. Amber is a mess. It means a lot that you care so much.” Hope nods. “As for me, I’m okay. Things are hard, but life goes on. Right?” I ask, dismissing her worry over me.

  She hugs me. Steps right in and wraps her arms around my waist as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is. The snowball on top of her knit cap tickles my cheek as we stand there.

  A strip of light appears across the dark snow, and I look past Hope’s shoulder. The lights inside the lodge flicker—Eddie’s way of warning me he’s locking up. I release Hope, and her arms fall to her sides as she steps back. Her eyes focus on the snowy ground and a chill runs up my spine. I wasn’t cold until now. Until Hope stepped away from me.

  “Let me run inside and grab my bag and keys, then I’ll follow you home.” I offer, leaning in to—whoa, what am I doing? It’s too late to abort the motion. I kiss her cheek, landing close to her lips while avoiding them out of fear, or uncertainty, or maybe I’m employing self-preservation. I contemplate the answer as I run inside to grab my things.

  I’m gone two minutes, but evidently that’s long enough to scare Hope. I step outside, my gear in tow, in time to see Hope’s taillights waving goodbye as she drives away. Great, this has the potential to be messy.

  IF YOU ASKED ME TO

  Ruby

  MONDAY, FEBRUARY 1

  When I’m dancing, I get me time. It may not be time alone with my thoughts. It may not be peace and quiet, but it’s the dance floor and me. Pirouette after pirouette, I don’t think about anything but the music and my body. With one note, my limbs give in and let the music take over. There’s no thought. I’m weightless, soaring across the wood floors. I’m invigorated and free.

  I crouch, hitting my final pose as the song ends, and look up to see Janet beaming by the stereo. “Beautiful, Ruby. The form of your renversé jump is flawless. With DRA in three weeks, you’ll be ready for the competition in no time.”

  “Thanks, Janet.” Lifting myself off the floor, I walk to the back of the room to get my water bottle.

  “Guess who is going to ask you to Sweethearts!” Kamry pops up behind me. I internally groan.

  “Kamry—”

  “Jimmy Hoffman.” Swiping away the sweat trickling down her forehead with the back of her hand, Kamry’s blue eyes shine, gloating, as she ties her hair into a ponytail.

  “Jimmy Hoffman.” I have to repeat it slowly because I don’t t
hink I heard the right name. The Jimmy Hoffman I know wouldn’t be seen in the same room as me, no less be my date to a school dance.

  “Jimmy Stinkin’ Hoffman.” Her hands perch on her waist like she’s a superhero saving me from the humiliation of not having a date to the dance. Funny, considering I didn’t want to go in the first place.

  “Is this a joke? A pity date? Am I going to get ready and walk outside to have my house egged by him while I’m standing on the front steps?”

  “What? Why would anyone do that? No. He actually wants to go with you.”

  Uncertainty spreads through my body. Instantly, it turns to Morse code, tapping an SOS. This is a trap. I walk toward the exit. “Why in the world would Jimmy Hoffman want to go to Sweethearts with me?”

  “He thinks you’re cute, and his date bailed on him.”

  “Danica Baisler ditched him? Why would she do that?”

  Kamry grabs the end of her ponytail between her fingers. Oh man, it’s about to get dramatic. No juicy story is ever told by Kamry without the ponytail twirl. “Well, technically Jimmy found out Danica was cheating on him with some sophomore in college. He was absolutely heartbroken. Dumped her last week.”

  I groan. “Kamry, please leave me out of this drama.” I want to go home. It’s seven, and if Dad hasn’t made dinner tonight I’ll have to think of something to whip up for us. I’m not in the mood to think beyond that, and getting in between Jimmy and Danica—Irving’s very own Homecoming King and Queen—is the last thing I want to deal with.

  “What?” She snatches my hand. “No, no, no. Jimmy Hoffman wants to go to Sweethearts with you, Ruby. Why would you pass that up? He’s the hottest guy at Irving. And he thinks you’re cute. You have to go with him!”

  I carefully pull the rubber band from my tight bun and let my hair fall down my back. “There’s barely two weeks until the dance. He has slim pickings. Of course he’ll find the only girl in school who doesn’t have a date so he can go.”

  This is the first conversation Kamry and I have had in forever that’s lasted longer than five minutes. Clearly, there’s a reason. Recently, all she’s done is get on my nerves.

  Kamry pulls me back, preventing me from walking outside and causing a traffic jam at the class door. Her hand grasps my wrist, pulling me to the side so the other dancers can exit. Their prying eyes are hungry with curiosity as they pass by. “Would you shut up and listen to yourself?”

  I blink. “Excuse me?”

  “Stop pushing people away.”

  “I don’t push people away.” They run from me. Or leave. Or die. In any case, it boils down to the fact that I unintentionally repel all human connections.

  “Yes, you do. Ever since you lost your mom you’ve shut us all out. Gaby and Valerie. We’ve all tried being there for you, but you won’t let us. So we’ve stopped trying. And I get it. I’ve given you space. Life sucks. I have no idea what you’re going through. You’ve told me enough times, but you’re not only pushing away people, you’re pushing away opportunities and experiences. This is our senior year, the last year before real life begins, and you’re squandering it.”

  I keep my mouth shut. If I say something, I’ll yell. Kamry has no idea how hard it is to get through my day without crying. How hard I’m trying to keep Dad from falling back into his dark depression. How everything I do in my day is to keep myself afloat. If I don’t immerse myself in school and research and dance, I’ll be as useless as Dad was after Mom went missing. I might blame Dad for keeping me busy, but I’ve let it happen. In fact, I’ve encouraged it. I need these things to keep myself from sinking.

  When I don’t reply, Kamry sighs. Her pursed lips and dissatisfied eyes travel away from me. The guilt trip isn’t going to work. Her jaw works back and forth, potentially concocting a different angle before she looks back at me. “At least think about going with Jimmy Hoffman. Who knows? Maybe you’ll actually enjoy yourself. If you’re lucky, it might turn into something amazing, and you could let it all pass right by you. And for what? You won’t know unless you try.”

  TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 2

  As much as I don’t want to be asked, if Jimmy Hoffman plans on doing it today, I want to look presentable. I lace up my Doc Martens over my black tights and peer at my reflection in the mirror. Short overalls, white tank, and my favorite flannel—check. My go-to outfit. Maybe I should’ve worn my plaid skirt and Mary Jane’s. Jimmy Hoffman probably likes a girl who dresses up. I mean, he dated Danica Baisler for a year. She’s the epitome of a woman. I don’t feel like changing though, so he’ll have to accept me as I am. Messy bun and all.

  Kamry did say he thought I was cute. Cute. I’m not sure that’s what I want to be referred to as, granted cute is better than ugly. I don’t think I’m ugly, but I don’t exactly try to impress anyone anymore. What’s the point?

  Awkward hardly touches what physics class is like with Kamry. Normally, she at least smiles at me. Today when I walk in she’s already sitting at our table, flipping through her binder. The straight strands of her hair create a curtain between us, fanning down the side of her face. She doesn’t look up when I sit. She doesn’t say a word, for the entire class. Aren’t I supposed to be the mad one? I haven’t done anything to her, and yet she’s treating me like I did something wrong. That’s not how this works.

  When the bell rings, she turns in her seat to me. “Did you think about what I said?”

  Is she scolding me? Is this the part where we discuss my punishment? Do I need to go sit in timeout? Maybe if I go stand in the corner with my back to her she’ll get the message. “Which part, exactly?”

  “Are you going to say yes to Jimmy?”

  Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy. “If he asks me, I won’t say no.” Mom taught me it was rude to say no when asked out by a perfectly nice guy. “It takes a lot of courage to ask a girl to a dance,” she’d always said. Though I doubt Jimmy Hoffman is nervous to ask me to Sweethearts, I won’t be the one to bruise his ego.

  “Really?” Her smile lights up as she claps way too enthusiastically. “Yay!”

  I pick up my bag from the floor and fill it with my books. “Kam, he might not even ask me. How did you find out he wanted to go with me in the first place?”

  She follows me out into the packed hallway. “I was with Eddie, and he was hanging around Chad and Jimmy when Chad mentioned Danica screwing Jimmy over. So, I—”

  My eyes widen. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

  Her hands go up defensively. “All I said was you weren’t planning on going, but if he wanted a date, he should ask you.”

  Staring up at the ceiling, I groan loud enough for the entire school to look my way. Thankfully, they don’t. “Kamry. Why?” Of course he’ll feel like he has to ask the girl with the dead mother. He’ll look like a jerk if he doesn’t.

  “When I described who you were, he perked up immediately! He said he thought you were cute. Eddie told him he should go for it, so Jimmy said he would.”

  I stop and the person behind me slams into my back, shouldering past me. With an apology, I push Kamry to the side of the hallway. “You had to describe who I was to him? We’ve been going to the same school since kindergarten!”

  “He knew who you were! He just didn’t put your name to your face.”

  I’m mortified. Completely mortified. How many Ruby’s go to our school? Umm . . . oh, that’s right. One. Me.

  “Once I said, ‘Ruby Kaminski, the dancer,’ he knew who you were. That’s all it took.”

  I want to go home. I shouldn’t have come to school today. I could be curled up in bed with a book, avoiding all of this.

  My stomach instantly coils into knots. Jimmy Hoffman is at the other end of the hallway, walking toward us. He tosses his head back, flipping his perfect wave of blonde hair to the side. He’s like Moses. The sea of students parts for him. They need to all dress in red to complete the scene. I want to walk in the opposite direction, but he’s already looking at us. Or me, rather. Jimmy Hoffman is looking at
me and smiling. Oh my gosh, I’m going to be sick.

  Kamry’s manicured nails dig into my forearm, her voice close to my ear. “Here he comes. Be nice. Act normal. Don’t spout off any weird facts.”

  “You know I can’t help it when I’m nervous.”

  “Save it for the dance.”

  Bile. It’s coming.

  “Don’t puke,” she says before letting go.

  “I don’t think I can help it.”

  She doesn’t respond. Where did she go? I search for Kamry. She’s already being swallowed up by the mass of people. With one look over her shoulder at me, she lifts two thumbs up, and then she’s gone.

  “Hey.” He came up too quickly.

  I freeze. There are supposed to be words coming out of my mouth, but what are they supposed to be?

  Jimmy looks uncertainly at me, one perfect eyebrow lifting higher than the other. “Ruby, right?”

  Uh. What’s my name? Ruby. Right. That’s me. “Yes. Hi.” Finally. Stupid lips. Don’t say anything awkward. Please. I fidget with the collar of my flannel and draw my bag further up my shoulder.

  “I mean, I know you’re Ruby. And I know we’ve gone to school together for years, but we’ve never actually talked. I’m Jimmy.”

  We were in Mrs. Peterson’s second grade class. We sat at the same circular table. I used to stare at him all the time when he wasn’t looking. Jimmy Hoffman was cute even then. All the girls had crushes on him with his big green eyes and cheeks that always look like they’re blushing. We had a kissing club and chased him around the playground at recess, trying to tackle and kiss him. I’m surprised we didn’t scar him for life. Please don’t remember I tried to hunt you down at recess and kiss you.

  Jimmy Hoffman tilts his head to the side and looks at me expectantly. He’s waiting for a response. Did he ask me a question? Say something!