I Know It's Over

by C. K. Kelly Martin

  “I don’t know.” Sasha put her concentration face on. “They probably get on the honor roll, get a scholarship for a good school, and end up with a PhD—something like that.”

  “Yeah, probably,” I agreed. “Sounds boring, though, doesn’t it?” Don’t get me wrong, I have okay grades. I’ll get into university, without a doubt. There has to be more to life, though. I’m thinking one day I’ll visit the pyramids, go on safari, get stoned in Amsterdam, and hook up with a French girl with a sexy name like Anaïs or Solange, some cool girl who walks around with a guitar on her back.

  “You have a better idea?” Sasha pressed her hair back behind her ears although it hadn’t come loose again. “Forget I said that,” she added. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Hey, now I’m offended,” I said lightly.

  “No, you’re not,” she countered, still smiling, and she was right. At that moment she could’ve said anything and not offended me, as long as she kept smiling in my direction.

  Nathan grabbed the table and chuckled. “Looks like your dirty mind is showing, Nick.”

  Sasha wiped her fingers on her napkin. “Everybody’s got a dirty mind,” she said indifferently.

  Tell me more. Was that my line? Instead, I leaned across the table and said, “I meant to tell you before—I really liked your story.” Ms. Raines, English teacher extraordinaire, was always saying that she wanted to keep us thinking for ourselves, not just force-feed us Shakespeare. That led to a lot of creative assignments. The particular one I was talking about was supposed to be about home. No other instructions. Just a story about home. Ms. Raines read a few of them to the class after she’d marked them and Sasha’s was the best of the bunch.

  “Thanks,” Sasha said, sounding surprised. “I liked yours better. It was so…I don’t know…so natural.”

  Normally English isn’t one of my better subjects. Obviously, I speak the language, but I’m not into picking stories apart for the sake of it and I don’t give a shit about metaphors or whatever. In fact, I don’t even read outside of class. Math and art come a lot easier. Somehow that story turned out all right, though. The guy in it, Terry, had quit university and was on the train home, feeling completely relieved—even though he’d pissed his parents off—because he’d finally made the decision. I thought Ms. Raines would like something like that. I didn’t think I would, but I was wrong.

  I meant it about Sasha’s story being better, though. Way more profound. Like something you’d read on an exam and afterwards there’d be questions about character motivation. Basically it was about this family immigrating to Toronto and having a tough time settling in. None of them could speak English, for one thing, and they had no idea how to get on the subway or anything.

  “Mine was trying too hard,” Sasha said. “Yours sounded like it really happened.” She made me feel like pulling my story out and reading it over. She also made me wish we were somewhere else, somewhere I could test the vibes between us. I guess that meant she was right about dirty minds.

  We didn’t get into it any further that day, though. Sasha announced that she was going to call her dad to come get her and Nathan and I sat there arguing about where to go next. There are only three places in the mall that don’t bore me: sports stores, entertainment/electronics stores, and the place we were sitting just then. Nathan, on the other hand, could spend an hour in the bookstore or trying on watches and holding his wrist up to me for approval.

  I don’t want to make him sound like a stupid stereotype or whatever. He wasn’t obsessed with clothes or anything, he just enjoyed whatever he happened to be doing at any given moment in time—even if it meant eating bad fast food at Courtland Place with two people who usually ignored each other. Nathan and I had known each other since we were eleven and had played on the same hockey team for the last three years. Me, him, and Keelor, that’s how it was. You play the game with someone for long enough and you know exactly what they’ll do next on the ice. That’s the way it was with the three of us up until this year when Nathan surprised us by packing it in. Said he didn’t love the game the way he used to.

  Keelor, the Courtland Cougars team captain, took it kind of personally. To tell the truth, so did I, but I figured Nathan had other things on his mind. See, I’d noticed some things about him by then. He’d never come out and said anything, but I’d caught him giving other guys the look. It was always lightning-fast, but I’d seen it often enough to know it meant something. I suspected that Keelor had caught on too. So there were three of us walking around not talking about that because sometimes it’s just easier not to, I guess.

  The only other thing I remember about that day was Sasha leaving. Her dad called back and let her know he was out in the parking lot. “So I’ll see you guys at school,” she said, getting up and staring down at Nathan and me.

  “See ya,” I said, forcing myself not to look at her T-shirt again.

  I watched her drop her cell phone into her pocket, turn, and walk away. At the time I figured we probably wouldn’t really talk again anytime soon. I thought it was one of those moments in life when you get a glimpse at a possibility just as it disappears. It was too bad, I guess, but I can’t say it actually bothered me much. I barely knew Sasha Jasinski, and nice-looking girls in tight T-shirts were everywhere in June.

  three

  The last week of school was too hot to think. I felt restless in my skin. Like summer had started without me. We were all impatient that week. Keelor, Gavin, and the rest of the guys lingered in the hallways, bouncing off the walls and each other, talking in the kind of loud voices that sound annoying when you hear them coming from someone else. Part of that was a pre-party rush. Dani was having one of her infamous sleepovers on Saturday, which meant no climbing through windows after dark. Her mom, unlike the rest of our parents, had the enlightened viewpoint that unisex sleepovers were nothing to be afraid of and that we were all, in fact, a lot more innocent than we looked.

  I was more innocent than I wanted to be, that was for sure, even after countless unauthorized coed sleepovers at Gavin’s, Keelor’s, or Vix’s. The first of those parties had begun as a casual midnight hockey game over at the arena. Victoria had come up with the inspired after-hours visitation idea—giving you some understanding of how she got her nickname, Vixen. She was after Keelor mostly, but she liked to party in general, if you know what I mean. Anyway, it was a good idea, as long as no one got caught. All we needed was someone’s basement (or similarly private space) and a string of alibis. Like when one of the guys was having the party, the girls would say they were sleeping at Dani’s, Vix’s, or whoever’s and would slip into the guy’s house undetected after the rest of the family had fallen asleep. Vix’s sister caught us at her house one night, but Vix had more than enough dirt on her sister’s extracurricular activities to keep us all out of trouble.

  So the upcoming party was on all our minds, that and general thoughts of summer freedom. I’d have enough hours at work to keep me in cash, huge amounts of unregulated time, and if I was lucky, maybe I’d even have Dani. We’d definitely been getting closer lately. We nearly always ended up huddled together in a sleeping bag at parties, and the last time I’d even convinced her to take off all her clothes. She’d made me keep my boxers on so we wouldn’t go too far, but she was warm and trembling next to me and I knew that part of her wanted to do it too.

  I did my best to work on that part, but she complained about everybody being there, although Keelor’s sleeping bag was the only one I could see from our spot behind the couch and he was busy with Vix.

  “They’re probably all doing it too,” I told her.

  “No, they’re not,” she said, still letting me touch her. “They would’ve told me.”

  “Eljeunia and Gavin,” I whispered. We could both hear them and it wasn’t the first time.

  “They could be doing anything,” she said, and I knew then I’d lost. But you don’t just give up, do you? Not when this completely hot girl with long blond hair
is naked in your sleeping bag, her skin warm under your hands.

  “Okay, how about something else, then?” I said softly.

  Dani stopped breathing next to me. She knew exactly what I meant, and for a second I thought she was seriously considering it. Then she pinched my arm and whispered: “Do you ever give up?”

  At least she didn’t sound mad. That was something, right? “You like me,” I said. “I know you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

  “Yeah, but the answer’s still no, Nick.”

  Answers can change over time. My parents are a prime example—first yes, then I don’t know, and finally, never in a million years. Nothing is ever final. People try to nail things down—make vows and sign contracts—but in the end they can’t be regulated. So I had hope when it came to Dani. She called my house every week, always sounding really happy to talk to me, and she acted different when I was around, hyper-interested in everything about me. Sometimes I thought I’d get further with Dani if I invited someone else into my sleeping bag for a change, but I wasn’t sure I could do that to her after she’d put in so much time with me.

  That was the kind of thinking that had me jumpy that last week of school. There were other things in the back of my head, sure. Dad’s girlfriend was becoming an unwanted presence in my life—answering his cell when they were in the car together, signing her name on my birthday card, and inviting me to come down and see them more often. Holland had the easy way with her high road. She didn’t have to suffer the bullshit. There were enough people I was obliged to be nice to without adding Bridgette to the list.

  Mostly I was thinking about good summer times and that party, though. And if that wasn’t enough to wind me up, there were Keelor’s words out in the hall. “Hey, man.” He lowered his voice as I neared. “There’s something I gotta tell you later.” His lips arched up into a closed-mouth grin. “You’ll love it.”

  “Tell me,” I insisted.

  “Later.” He nodded at the surrounding gang. “This is for your ears only.”

  Our very own Vix made an appearance at that moment—cutting through the gathered group like she was strutting a catwalk. You had to hand it to her, she really knew how to play it. Every last one of us was hot for her.

  Keelor, always the boldest, stepped forward and tapped her miniskirted ass. “Looking good, Vix, baby. You got twenty minutes for me?”

  We all erupted into laughter, instantly twice as boisterous. “Twenty minutes,” Gavin said, smiling with his teeth. “Since when is that, Keelor? Trying to break your record?”

  Keelor laughed as hard as anyone, and Vix, spotting one of her friends at the other end of the hall, smiled and disappeared into the crowd, catcalls trailing behind her.

  Just then Sasha swung out from somewhere behind us. Normally I wouldn’t have said anything to her, but we’d had that conversation at the mall only days before and I figured that warranted something a little extra.

  “Hey, Sasha,” I said, expecting a similar response or at least the traditional nod.

  She spun to look at me, then continued to pass as though she’d thought better of it. A new low for the two of us. I didn’t get it. I was positive she’d heard. Keelor scrunched up his face, offended on my behalf, and confirmed it. “She heard you, man. What a bitch.”

  Exactly. I felt my face getting hot. My throat was tightening the way it did before a fight. I’m not a violent person, but if you slewfoot me on the ice, you’re asking for trouble. This felt just like that, like someone had kicked my skates out from under me, sending me down fast and hard.

  I rushed down the hall after her and cut her off in front of Ms. Raines’s English class before I had time to think. She must’ve been a full six inches shorter than me. My head bent down towards hers, my jaw square with my shoulders. “Sasha,” I said irritably. “What? You don’t say hi?”

  “I didn’t see you,” she said, crossing her arms and clutching her notebook in front of her.

  “No, you did see me,” I corrected. She seemed angrier than I was and I had no idea why. I looked into her angry face and noted that it wasn’t identical to her concentration face after all, not quite. She was pouting at me like a kid, like Holland used to when I’d been ignoring her. There was this force field of bad vibes between us, running all the way up to the ceiling.

  “Okay, I did see,” she said flatly. “You were all being such assholes I didn’t feel like saying hello, okay?”

  “What? You mean with Vix?” What else could she mean? I was stunned. What was the big deal?

  “Victoria, yeah, I mean her. You’re standing there laughing your ass off at Keelor being a moron and then you turn around and say hi to me like the whole thing was nothing.” She glared at me like I was toilet paper, or something worse, stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

  “It was nothing.” I frowned. “If she’s not offended, why should you be? We’re all friends. You know that, right?” Shit. I didn’t need that kind of bullshit from this girl.

  “I’m just sick of it happening all the time around here.”

  She looked genuinely worn out, and I forgot to defend myself. “Is someone messing with you or something?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Forget it, okay?” Embarrassment crept into her face as she stared past me at the open English room door.

  I wanted to escape then too. I couldn’t decide whether to move aside and follow her into English class or what. In the end I said the only thing that came into my head: “You going to English?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “You?”

  “Uh-huh.” We were still standing by the door, people filtering into class around us.

  Sasha unfolded her arms and held her notebook down by her side. “Look, it’s not just you guys specifically. It’s everyone, you know? All the time. Making these comments or grabbing at girls and all that.”

  I guess I knew what she was talking about. A lot of guys around school were like that. I considered explaining just how close Keelor and Victoria were, but I didn’t. I hated that she made me feel like defending my friends and myself, and I had a sneaking suspicion that the information wouldn’t make much difference anyway. “So what did you want?” I asked. “Me to come running after you to apologize or was I never supposed to talk to you again?”

  “I don’t know.” Sasha bit her lip and stared at my chest. “It’s not like I planned this. I just…didn’t like it.” She looked lost standing there, her shield down and her eyes avoiding mine. Me, I could’ve stood there pawing the ground in front of her, trying to figure out whether I felt angry or guilty, but the bell pealed through the hall, jolting me into action.

  “Class,” I said simply, pointing over my shoulder. I made for the doorway, resentment pumping through me as I slid into my seat. People shouldn’t be allowed to say things like that when they don’t know you. Act all disappointed like you were being a prick when you were only kidding around. People have no right.

  I was so sick of people being disappointed, you have no idea. Mom was disappointed when Dad left. Holland was disappointed when I wouldn’t blow him off. Dad was disappointed that Holland wouldn’t talk to him anymore and that I couldn’t spend more time with him over the summer. There was an ocean of disappointment flowing cold between the four of us. Sometimes I felt like it made me numb, or maybe that’s what getting older was like. Maybe pure excitement, pure happiness, and pure fear were just for kids. Maybe I was jaded.

  I spied Sasha’s head swiveling to glance back at me from her seat near the front of the class. She did it quick like she didn’t want me to see, but I felt an invisible connection all through English—like that force field from the hall had followed us into the room and wedged itself between us. I felt it the way you feel someone following you, and I knew I was right.

  I had a decision to make when the bell sounded again, and I made it fast. Sasha was on her feet already, racing towards the door. I bolted after her, determined not to lose her in the crowd. I didn’t call her name; I
didn’t need to. She stopped about ten feet ahead of me and waited for me to catch up.

  “Hi,” she said. The word landed with a thud.

  “Hi,” I repeated. “Is that you actually talking to me?”

  “You’re making this awkward.” Her serious brown eyes were peering into mine this time, which was a start.

  “You started it.” The words rolled off my tongue the way they did when a pretty girl came into Sports 2 Go. But that wasn’t the right tactic to take with Sasha. Her eyes stared straight through me. Bullshit, they said. You’re so full of it, Nick. Who do you think you’re talking to? It was hard to say anything else with her performing that little invisibility trick on me. I was silent for a few seconds, looking for an angle, anticipating responses, and reviewing the past hour in my head. What was I doing here? How did this happen? “Look,” I began slowly, “I guess I know what you’re saying, okay? But I’m not really like that. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. So…” I sized up the hallway, planning my escape route. “Okay. I’m gonna go. I’ll see you around.”

  I started to swing around, to disappear for real, but Sasha grabbed my arm. Gently like. She had little girl hands, hands that could never really stop anyone from disappearing. “Wait,” she said.

  I stopped, my body half turned towards the hall. I glanced down into her eyes and I could see that she hadn’t planned that either, that she had no idea what to say next. She let go of my arm, trying to make the movement seem casual. “So what’re you doing this summer?” she asked. “Are you going away or anything?”