“Are you okay?” he asks.
I slide my thumb over his bottom lip. “Yeah. I’m a lot better than okay.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re not. You’re amazing.”
“I’m not sure about you, but I think I like ‘whatever this is.’”
I smile. “Me too.” He interlaces his fingers with mine, and I’m surprised that such a simple thing can make me feel even more connected to him.
Afterward, we lie there for a long time, face to face, talking and laughing and wondering if we’re the first ones to lock ourselves inside the room this way.
“I don’t know,” I say jokingly as I play with his fingers. “I think you’ve dramatically overstepped your role as keymaster.”
“I blame the couch,” he says. “I told you it was inspirational.”
That cracks me up. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at it the same way again.”
“Yeah,” he says, crinkling his nose. “They probably wouldn’t want it back in the prop room now.”
“No,” I say, laughing harder. “I can’t imagine they would.”
I kiss him, feeling completely alive and totally normal—saner than I’ve ever felt before—and now I can’t wait to walk through the halls with AJ, holding his hand, kissing him good-bye between classes. I want to know him. Really know him. And I want him to know me the same way.
The few lamps we left on softly illuminate the walls, and I think about all the paper around us, all this love and pain and fear and hope. We’re surrounded by words. Nothing about this moment could be more perfect, because I’m absolutely in love with this room and the people in it, on the wall and otherwise. And with this one boy in particular.
I still have no idea where Caroline eats lunch. I asked her once and she said, “Places,” and when I asked her if she eats alone she said, “Sometimes.” So I don’t expect to see her in the cafeteria today, but I stop at the door and scan the entire room anyway.
I haven’t been able to find her, not even at her locker this morning, but I’m still buzzing over what happened with AJ last night, and I can barely stand to keep it to myself another second. I have to tell Caroline first. I wouldn’t have known him or any of the Poets if it weren’t for her.
Where is she?
The Eights are already sitting at our usual table, Alexis and Kaitlyn on one side, Olivia and Hailey on the other. Olivia moves over to make room for me at the end of the bench.
“Dieting?” she asks as I slide in next to her. I’m confused until she points to the empty spot in front of me. “Where’s your lunch?”
“I’m not very hungry,” I say, but that’s not entirely true. I’m too excited and nervous and elated, too everything to eat right now.
“So, what are we doing tonight?” Olivia asks. “I haven’t heard about any parties or anything.”
“I know. It’s too quiet,” Kaitlyn says. She takes a sip of her soda.
“Hey, I have an idea.” Alexis rests her elbows on the table and looks at each of us. “My parents are going out. Come over to my house. You guys haven’t all spent the night in ages.” I catch Hailey raise her eyebrows as she takes a big bite of salad.
“I’m in,” Olivia says. Kaitlyn follows her with a “Ditto,” and Hailey says, “Sure, why not?” Then there’s silence. They’re all looking at me.
I wasn’t expecting to find a perfect opening quite so quickly, but here it is. I dig my fingernails into the back of my neck three times and take a deep breath. “I can’t tonight. I have other plans.”
Alexis doesn’t even try to hide the surprise in her voice. “Really? Hot date?” she asks jokingly as she sips from her bottled water.
“Actually…yes.”
Now I have their full attention. Kaitlyn pushes her soda away, Olivia returns her sandwich to her plate, and Hailey’s jaw drops, along with her chip bag.
“With?” Alexis’s eyes are wide as she asks.
I run my thumbs along the edge of the bench three times. “AJ Olsen.”
Kaitlyn starts laughing, and at the same time Alexis asks, “Who?” Everyone else looks at her and nods like they’re wondering the same thing.
“Wait,” Olivia says. “I know him. He’s in my English class.” She looks at me. “I mean, I don’t know him or anything. He never says much. But I know who he is.”
“You’re serious?” Kaitlyn looks at me. She’s still laughing. “You’re going out with Andrew Olsen? You’re k-k-k-kidding.” She slaps her hand on the table, cracking up at her own joke. “No w-w-w-way.” She looks around the table, but I keep my eyes fixed on her. My hands ball up into fists by my sides.
“You guys remember Andrew. From elementary school.” When they shake their heads, she sings that fucking Chia Pet jingle again, and then elbows Alexis. “You remember that kid, don’t you? He stuttered so badly he couldn’t even say his own name.”
“Kaitlyn. Stop. Now.” Alexis says it like she’s scolding her. I’ve never heard her speak to Kaitlyn that way. I’ve never heard anyone speak to Kaitlyn that way.
I wish I’d been the one to call her out, but I’m too stunned to say anything. Still, I have to speak. It’s my job to defend him. I can’t just sit here and let her mock him. “I-I…” I choke on my words.
“See? It’s contagious.” Kaitlyn starts cracking up again but stops when she realizes everyone’s staring at her and none of them are joining in. “Oh, lighten up. That was funny.”
After a deep breath, I press my palms into the table and lean forward, closing in on her. My voice is shaking. “We were horrible to him, Kaitlyn. We teased him so much, he switched schools.”
“Oh, so you’re pity-dating him?”
I look at her soda. I consider throwing it at her.
“I am not pity-dating him,” I say, picturing AJ on stage in Poet’s Corner, guitar swung over his shoulder, singing some line that makes my heart race and my whole body melt. I think about what happened last night, the way he looked at me before, during, and after. “I’m in love with him.”
I just blurted it out. I can’t believe I did. I look around the table, watching for reactions, but they don’t come, not right away at least. The four of them are dumbstruck.
“You’re in love with him? Do you even know him?” Alexis finally asks.
Olivia jumps in before I can answer. “Wait, does he have anything to do with where you go during lunch?”
Everything gets quiet again, and I watch my friends process Olivia’s words, seeing their expressions change before my eyes as they clue into the fact that this thing with AJ tonight isn’t simply a hot date or even a first date. It’s probably one of many. And that I might have been serious when I said that thing I just said.
“We’ve been hanging out together for a few months now. First as friends and more recently as, well, more than that.”
They all look at each other, but none of them will look at me.
“Well, this explains a lot,” Alexis finally says. “We’ve all been talking about how you seem so different lately. Right?” She looks around the table, addressing them individually. Kaitlyn nods in agreement. Olivia, too. Hailey stares at her food. “You’ve been acting like a totally different person.”
Hmm. Or maybe it’s that I’m not acting.
Alexis reaches across the table and rests her hand on mine. “You’ve changed, Samantha. And I think I speak for all of us when I say that it’s not for the better, sweetie.”
Not for the better? How could they not see that I’m a better person? I told Shrink-Sue I felt healthier, more in control of my emotions than I ever have. I’m no longer a slave to their words and actions, and that means there’s something wrong with me.
“We don’t feel like we even know you anymore,” Olivia adds.
“You’re right,” I say quietly. “You guys did know me, but I don’t think you do anymore. Not really.” I look around the table as I talk, realizing, maybe for the first time, that I don’t kn
ow much about them either.
The words are right on the tip of my tongue, and I start to tell them the truth: I need to get some distance from them. But then I take one look at Hailey’s face and think about what she said in the bathroom that day, about how she needed me and she didn’t know what she’d do if I left like Sarah did. I can’t say it. Not today.
I look right at Kaitlyn. “You owe AJ an apology.”
“For what? Something I said when I was in fourth grade?
“No,” I say as I stand. “For something you said five minutes ago.”
That cafeteria door seems like it’s miles away, but I throw my shoulders back and march toward it, holding my head a little higher than it was when I walked in here.
I walk quickly to my locker, glad to be alone in the corridors and back in the fresh air. I’m not sure what made me head this direction, I was sort of on autopilot, but it turns out to be the right call.
As I turn the corner, I let out a relieved sigh when I see Caroline working her combination lock with one hand and holding her backpack strap in the other.
“There you are! I’ve been looking for you all day.” I rest my shoulder against a neighboring locker and come in close, keeping my voice low. “I have so much to tell you.”
She continues loading books into her backpack, and I keep talking.
“I told the Eights about AJ, and Kaitlyn made an insanely cruel comment I can’t even repeat, but I totally stood up for him.” I shake my hands out by my sides. I’m all jittery.
Caroline zips her backpack and hoists it over her shoulder, and when she turns in my direction, I can see her T-shirt: YES, IT REALLY IS ALL ABOUT ME.
“I know,” she says. “I was there. You were brilliant.”
“What do you mean, you were there?” She couldn’t have been. I didn’t see her anywhere. I looked. “Where were you?”
She rests her hand on one side of my face. “Close enough to hear everything.” Then she steps away and tugs on her flannel shirtsleeve, looking at her beat-up watch. “I have to go now.”
“Go where? The bell doesn’t ring for another twenty minutes.” She stares at me with the strangest expression on her face. “Wait, are you angry because I didn’t tell them about you? I meant to. I will. I promise.”
“No, I’m not mad. And please, don’t tell them about me. Ever.” She leans in closer. “But you should tell AJ.”
What?
My phone chirps and I pull it out of my back pocket and read the message.
how’d it go?
“Go ahead,” she says. “Answer him.” Caroline gestures with her chin to the phone. How did she know it was AJ? I give her a funny look and type back:
really good. where are you?
I press SEND. And when I look up, Caroline’s gone.
“Caroline?” I call out, but there’s no response.
I run to the edge of the locker bank and look down the corridor. Lunch is far from over, but it’s starting to get a little more crowded out here. I walk down the path that leads to the student parking lot, and then double back to the one that leads to the front entrance. I don’t see her anywhere.
My phone chirps again.
downstairs practicing
It looks like he’s typing another message, so I don’t reply right away.
playing at open mic tonight
I smile at the screen and type:
!!!
I take another spin around campus, still looking for Caroline, and then start heading back toward my locker, typing as I go. I think about what I said to my friends today. What I blurted.
lots to tell you :)
The first bell rings and the halls become more crowded. At my locker, I dial my combination and lift the latch, and then I peek at the far end of the row, hoping to see Caroline.
I’m gathering my books for class when I feel hands sliding over my hips. “Hey,” AJ says. My first instinct is to check our surroundings to be sure we’re alone, but then I realize I don’t have to do that anymore. I recline into his chest, pull his arms even tighter around my waist, and kiss him, knowing that people might be walking by and watching us, but not caring at all.
“I take it you told your friends about us?” he asks when we finally pull away. He’s wearing a ski cap pushed back on his head, and his hair is poking out underneath. He looks adorable.
“The Eights know. And everyone else…” I crane my neck to see what’s happening behind us. People are slowing their steps as they pass, and whispering to each other. “I’m guessing they’ll know by the time the final bell rings.”
“Wow. That’s an amazing picture of you,” he says, bringing my attention back to my locker.
“Thanks.” I settle into his shoulder, watching his expression change as he scans over everything. He smiles when he reads the little pink Post-it. His eyes shine when he sees the picture of Cassidy and me, taken the day I broke her butterfly record. He’s more straight-faced when he looks over photos of me and the rest of the Eights.
“Wow, you’ve been to a lot of concerts,” he says.
After today, I’m pretty sure my collection won’t be expanding.
“Is that one of my guitar picks?” he asks.
“Maybe.” I smile.
“Robber.”
I turn to face him and hook my fingers in the front belt loops of his jeans. “Hey, you didn’t happen to see Caroline on your way over here, did you?” I gesture toward her locker. “I just had the strangest conversation with her.”
“Caroline?”
“Yeah. It was weird. First she said she heard my discussion with my friends, but that’s impossible. She was nowhere in sight. And then she said she had to go. And now I can’t find her anywhere. Did she seem upset last night?” I ask.
AJ’s expression morphs from confusion to concern. “What?”
“She was the only one who didn’t read, but she never does. She didn’t seem bothered by it or anything.”
The bell rings. AJ doesn’t move away from me. There’s no one around, but I lower my voice anyway. “I came clean to the Eights. I thought that’s what she wanted. She’s the one who said I needed ‘new friends’ and introduced me to all of you. She’s the one who brought me down to Poet’s Corner in the first place.”
I think about all the times Caroline listened to me read my poems and gave me words that she thought might help AJ see me in a different light, like my own personal Cyrano de Bergerac.
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“Who’s Caroline?”
“Caroline.” I say it with a laugh, but he doesn’t join me. “Caroline. Caroline…” It takes me a second to find her last name. I haven’t thought about it since the first day of school. “Caroline Madsen.”
His eyes grow wider and I watch the color totally drain from his face. “What did you say?” I feel the tug on my fingers as he starts to step away from me, and I release his belt loops, letting my hands fall to my sides.
“I said, ‘Caroline Madsen.’ As in, our friend Caroline. AJ, what’s wrong?”
“Wait. Did you just say that Caroline brought you downstairs?” He doesn’t stutter, but his voice shakes and it scares me.
“Of course,” I say, trying to understand why he’s asking. “She was with me that first day, remember?” I’ve thought about it a million times. I can picture it like it was yesterday. “You weren’t going to let me stay, but then Caroline grabbed my arm and you changed your mind.”
He stares at me for the longest time.
“She’s the reason you let me stay,” I repeat. But I can tell by the look on his face that maybe I’m wrong, so I add, “Wasn’t she?”
“No.” His voice is so faint. He takes a real step backward this time.
Now I’m frightened, and I don’t know why, but I know I’m right to be. My heart starts racing and I want to get out of here, bound for a dark, quiet room where I can catch my breath and think, but I can’t leave without hearing whatever it is AJ’s t
rying to tell me.
He takes his cap off and combs his fingers through his hair. “Sam, she wasn’t the reason I let you into Poet’s Corner that first day.”
Yes she was.
“The first time you came downstairs, you were alone. I let you stay that day because you said you thought it might change your life, and I liked that.”
I start to tell him that I didn’t choose those words, Caroline did. But I keep my mouth shut because I have a feeling that isn’t the right thing to say. I squeeze my eyes closed and cover my face.
“No,” I say, shaking my head hard. “She brought me there.” I open my eyes again and lock them on his. “How else would I have found that room?”
His lips are pressed into a tight line. Then he says, “I have no idea.”
“I do. I found it because she brought me there.” I say it with more force than I intended to.
He stares at the ground for a long time, and finally, he looks at me again. “Do you know who Caroline Madsen is?”
“Of course I do.”
She’s my friend. She might be my best friend.
“Sam.” I hear a strange hitch in his voice when he says my name. “Caroline Madsen committed suicide…in 2007.”
I laugh. “Shut up,” I say, but he’s doesn’t look like he’s joking. “So, what? You’re saying I’ve been talking to a ghost?” But as soon as the words leave my mouth, I know deep in my gut that’s not right.
Now he’s taking even larger steps, backing away even faster, and his fingers are impossible to miss, flicking against the stitching on his jeans. “I should…I have to…get to class,” he says, and he’s gone before I have a chance to tell him he’s wrong. He has to be.
She was just here ten minutes ago.
Wasn’t she?
I was standing here talking to her.
Wasn’t I?
I slam my locker door and take off running for the parking lot. It takes two hands to start the car, one to bring the key to the ignition, and the other to hold it steady. The engine roars to life and I peel into the street, bound for the only place it occurs to me to go.
Every Last Word Page 19
