Like I mentioned earlier, after my dad died, my mom and I became regular church-goers. And believe it or not, I loved it. I wasn’t so big on the whole religion side of it, but it was the one day of week full of relief, so different from our life at home. At home, anything and everything set my mom off: the sound of a car’s tires squealing off in the distance, a forgotten pill hidden in the corner of the bathroom, or even something invisible that I couldn’t see or hear.
I was walking on tiptoes through the house, trying desperately to distract her from her memories with little success. I’m not saying she was much better at church, but at least I wasn’t the one in charge of taking care of her there. At church, when she burst into tears for seemingly no reason, she was surrounded by her friends who hugged and comforted her. They swept me away to play with the other kids or talk about school, so I didn’t have to see her break down. I loved those days.
Things between church and me started to go downhill few years after my dad died, when I was ten. It was around Christmastime, which was the worst time of year for my mom. She was okay for most of the year then, but around Christmas, she started shutting herself in her room and quietly crying again. I was a nervous wreck for most of the holiday season and I think everyone at church knew it, because they paid me an extra amount of attention.
Like probably every church everywhere, we were holding a Christmas show where they picked a bunch of the kids to sing in front of everyone, dressed up like angels. I was one of the angels (with a solo, even) and I was ridiculously excited. Part of it was the attention, but most of it was just seeing how my mom’s face lit up as she listened to me practice. If I could just practice hard enough, be perfect enough, maybe we would actually have a happy Christmas.
It was an awful lot of stress for a little kid.
During the first couple practices, Asher and his mom faithfully sat in the second row, listening to us all sing our little hearts out. I watched them as we sang and noticed how irritated he looked, but shrugged it off. He nearly always looked that way. The important thing was that he was there. And then, just like that, they were gone. No warning, nothing. It might not seem like that big of a deal, missing a rehearsal, but I had come to rely on their faces. I was frozen in fear without them. I managed to mumble my way through it all, but even my mom commented on the way home that I hadn’t been myself.
I went over to Asher’s house that night, two days before Christmas (Christmas Eve eve as I’ve always called it). His mom greeted me with a plate of gingersnaps and a kiss on the cheek as I entered the front door. “I’m sorry we missed your rehearsal,” she said, but I detected something strange in her voice, something hard. “We just weren’t able to make it today. Take these cookies in to Asher, will you?”
I nodded wordlessly and hurried down the hall to his room. He was lying on his bed, arms folded under his head, facing away from me. He jumped when I tapped his shoulder and offered him the cookies. “They’re from your mom,” I said simply. He nodded and sat up, taking a cookie, but just fingered it without taking a bite. I clambered up next to him and set the cookies between us. Even for Asher, he was being unusually morose, especially for Christmas Eve eve. “So why weren’t you at practice today?” I asked. He turned away again and I could tell something was really wrong. “What’s wrong?” I asked, scooting closer to try and get him to look at me.
“I couldn’t stand watching you sing,” he said, flopping back on the bed.
He might as well have reached into my chest and squeezed my heart until it popped. “I’m that bad?” I asked, my voice trembling.
He shrugged. “How should I know?”
I rubbed my fist roughly against my eyes, fighting back tears. Knowing it was a losing battle, I quickly slid off the bed and headed for the door. “I’ll just go.”
“No, wait.” Something in his voice caught me and I turned around. He sat up and I could see he was also crying. It was the first time I had ever seen him cry.
I stood still for a moment, unsure what to do. “Why’re you crying?” I sniffled, forgetting my own tears for a second.
“Do you believe in God?” he asked.
I was silent for a moment. Did I like the idea of a God? Sure. Believe in him? That was an entirely different question. “I don’t know,” I admitted finally. “Why?”
“Because I did,” he replied. “I bought all that crap in Sunday school, that with God believing in me, I could do anything.” I nodded. We heard that line every week. “So I asked Pastor Robbins if I could be on the choir, if I could sing with everyone.
My mouth dropped open. “You wanted to be an angel? You’re like, the least angelic person I know.”
Even through his tears, he smiled. “It was kind of my mom’s idea. Anyway, at first he said no and I told him that it was okay, that I didn’t mind when people laughed at me, that I just wanted to stand up there with you and the others.”
“Yeah? So what’d he say?”
Asher crossed his arms and glared at the wall. “He said no, that it was nothing personal, but people come to the show expecting a certain sound. He offered to let me paint the scenery instead.”
I was at his side in an instant, wrapping him up in my arms, my forehead resting against his. That old fierceness returned, the one that made me defend him against all else. “I don’t want to be in his stupid choir,” I declared. “If they don’t want you, I don’t want them.” Even as I said it, a pang of guilt forced its way through me and my stomach clenched. What would my mom think?
He shook his head, making my own head move with his. “No, you have to go. I don’t want anyone to know-“ he trailed off.
I sank away from him. “I won’t tell anyone,” I promised, “but I won’t sing either.”
“Really? Promise?”
Promise, I signed.
He smiled and then turned away abruptly, rubbing his face. “I’ve got some stuff to do. I’ll see you later.”
I never did tell my mom why I refused to sing in the choir after that. Maybe I should have. Maybe it would have abated her disappointment. Maybe she would have understood why I stopped going to church after that. Maybe maybe maybe. She knew it had something to do with Asher, but that’s all. When her disappointment turned to anger and accusation, I just told her that I didn’t believe in God and it was a waste of time. It’s true, that’s how I felt, but it was more complicated than that, really. She thought Asher had convinced me to stop believing but if anything, it was the other way around.
All that ran through my mind as Jason asked me why I never went to church anymore. Of course, I couldn’t explain it to him any better than I did with my mom. Instead, I just shrugged, my dress feeling heavy on my shoulders. “I guess I just got busy with other stuff. School and all.”
“Well, you should come sometime. You’re missing out.”
“Sure.” I let out one of my weird, awkward laughs that always popped out when I was lying. Clamping my mouth shut, I stood up. “I’ll go ahead and get changed back into my clothes.”
“’Kay.” He left while I changed again. I stood for a second in just my underwear, looking around me. What would my mom think if she knew I was standing half-naked in some guy’s bedroom? The thing is, it didn’t feel weird. Well okay, it was kind of awkward, but not sexually weird. When I was around Jason, those kinds of thoughts didn’t really cross my mind. Did my mom really think I was capable of doing those sorts of things already? Sure, I was in high school, but I still felt so young. Not innocent exactly, just too embarrassed to think about it yet. If only everyone my age felt the same way, but that’s skipping ahead a bit.
I quickly slipped into my clothes, triple-checking to make sure my fly was pulled up, then stuffed my dress back into its bag. When I opened the bedroom door, I didn’t see Jason anywhere, but I heard a cupboard slamming in the kitchen. “Do you want a peanut butter and jam sandwich?” he called.
“Alright,” I agreed, venturing back into the kitchen and sitting down in a folding
chair.
“I live off these things,” he said seriously, setting one down in front of me. “When I was a kid, I tried going vegetarian once, just so I could eat these sandwiches all day long without my dad forcing other meals on me. He didn’t really know how to cook anything vegetarian, so he let me fend for myself and this was all I ate. It was heaven.”
I laughed, taking a bite. “So what happened?”
He grinned. “I only lasted a day. My dad made bacon and eggs the next morning and I couldn’t resist the bacon. He caught me sneaking some and that was that. Back to solid square meals.” He said the last part in a deeper voice, sounding goofy. On cue, the front door opened and a man entered. He looked a lot like Jason, just older: narrow glasses framing a thin face, his dark hair just starting to go gray on the sides.
“Hey kiddo,” he greeted Jason, then glanced at me. His expression suddenly turned from relaxed to rock-hard as he studied my face, but Jason didn’t seem to notice. He wasn’t glaring at me exactly, just silently disapproving. You could see it in the way his eyes lost that crinkle on the sides and his mouth turned down slightly.
Oh God, I realized, he knows who I am. My heart sank as I wondered what he would say, how Jason would react. I reached down for my dress as I prepared to get kicked out. What would I tell my friends? The school? There was a strange rushing sound in my ears and the world seemed to go a little gray. But to my surprise, his dad just turned away and began cleaning up the dishes in the kitchen.
“Hi Dad,” Jason returned. “This is Paige.”
“Nice to meet you, Paige,” he murmured over the clinking of silverware. “I hear you’re going to the dance with my son.”
“Yes,” I said shortly, rising from my seat and leaving my sandwich mostly untouched. “I should probably go. I’ve got a lot of homework to do this weekend.” I rushed out of the house, bag in tow, not waiting to see either of their reactions.
“Wait,” Jason called from the door. “Do you need a ride home?”
“I’ll be fine!” I hollered, walking quickly enough to leave a slight dust trail behind me. “See you Monday.”
“Okay, see you Monday.” He sounded slightly mystified, but I heard the door slam shut and I managed a sigh of relief. Wondering if his dad would tell him and what kind of reaction I would receive on Monday, I slung the bag over my shoulder and plodded down the road, kicking a pinecone in front of me. I was halfway down the block before I heard a car pull up behind me. My breath caught in my throat and I turned to see Jason’s dad, silently waiting in his car. He motioned me over and the passenger side window rolled down. I slunk over to the window, feeling like I might wet myself at any moment.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.” We were silent for a moment, then he gestured toward the door. “Why don’t you hop in.”
“’Kay.” I opened the car door and slid into the seat, laying my dress on top of my knees and staring at the dashboard.
“When my son told me he was taking a girl named Paige to the school dance, I didn’t realize it was you he was referring to.” I nodded silently. “You know who he is?”
“Yes, sir.” I had never called a man “sir” in my life before, but if any time was the right time, it was then.
He absorbed the information and his response was slow in coming. “It’s clear he’s not quite as informed as you, but I suppose that’s your decision. I’m not going to get involved in this.”
“You won’t tell him?” I finally met his gaze in astonishment. “Why?”
He looked at me for a few moments before speaking. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re just a girl who lost her dad.” He shifted the car into drive. “Now put on your seatbelt. I’ll drive you home.”
I didn’t really understand what he meant at the time, but I think I get it now. Some things, you just can’t control and it’s not fair to hate someone because of the family they come from. I don’t know if he was right not to let his son in on what was going on, but I guess he just wanted Jason to be happy. Whatever the reason, his dad kept his word. Sometimes I think it would have been so much simpler, so much better if Jason found out right away, but that just didn’t happen.
Chapter 5
The homecoming dance was like a dream. I think when most girls say that, they mean it was too perfect to be true, but for me, it literally felt like a dream – totally fake. We all waltzed in, arms interlocked with the boys, music thumping through our bones, intermeshing between all the other bodies. The farther we stepped into the gym, the tighter the crowd became and I was pressed up against Jason, close enough to smell the piney, earthy scent that came from his body. We all jostled around against each other, squealing when our favorite songs came on. We weren’t dancing exactly, just bouncing, feeling the floor move under our combined energy.
I felt Jason putting his arms around me, but I found it surprisingly difficult to look up at him, to meet his eyes. I kept wondering what Asher was up to, if he was still annoyed that I had blown him off for lunch last week in order to see Jason. He found out, of course. He always found out. He hadn’t said anything to me, but I could feel it just the same. We still switched the notebook back and forth and earlier that day, I had found the notebook in my locker. To my irritation, I hadn’t had a chance to read it, what with all the dance preparations. Instead of focusing on Jason, I found myself yearning to catch up on the story and I hated myself for it.
Look at him, I ordered myself. This is way more important than any old story. This is your purpose. I looked up at him, beaming, and he brushed back my hair.
“My little magpie,” he said, pulling me closer. A slow song came on and everyone decelerated around us, gently rocking back and forth. I felt my heart beat faster. Was it normal to feel so awkward, so clumsy around your date? Why did the other girls do this, if they didn’t have to? I had always been so jealous of those girls, walking hand-in-hand with a boy around town, giggling at little inside jokes, acting so reluctant to part. Now here I was, one of those girls and there were a thousand other places I wanted to be.
Forcing those thoughts out of my head, I fastened my arms around Jason, slowly rocking in his arms. He draped himself over me, head in my hair. I felt him kissing my neck, slowly working his way up to my mouth. Tipping my chin up, I let him press his lips to my mouth. This kiss was different than the one at the bowling alley. Slower, more forceful. I pulled back, suddenly feeling something pinging at my heart. Something felt off. Wrong. “Where’d everyone go?” I asked. Strangers surrounded us and even standing on my tiptoes, I couldn’t see over the tops of their heads. The song changed and everyone began bouncing again, further obscuring my view.
“Don’t know,” Jason shrugged. “Probably off dancing. You want to get a drink?”
“Sure.” I let him forge a path through the crowd, toward the tables lined with punch bowls. An older woman stood watch nearby, arms crossed, probably guarding the bowls against anyone who tried to spike them. I filled a plastic cup with some punch and noticed Sammy and Kandice at the other end of the table. “Where’s Grace?” I hollered at them, still feeling weirdly anxious.
Kandice glared at me. “Who cares,” she mouthed back.
They both looked angry and I noticed a distinct lack of a particular two boys at their sides. Jason seemed to notice the same thing and pulled me back into the crowd, making a face. “Let’s catch up with them later,” he shouted in my ear. I nodded and chugged down the punch, tossing the cup into the garbage. I still felt a twinge at my heart, a sense that something was not right in the world, but there was nothing I could do about it. Shrugging, I immersed myself in the energy of the crowd, determined to have a good time.
I’ll spare you from the details. Yes, there was more kissing and yes, we might have even been separated by one of the chaperones and told off for too much making out. I didn’t exactly enjoy it, but it was new and fascinating at the same time. And now I’m sure you’re pointing back to the beginning of the book and saying, “But Paige,
you said you would tell me the truth of what happened, even if it’s harder…or more awkward.” So yes, yes, we kissed a lot and got in trouble. But even the chaperone had a smile on her face when she chided us. Anyway, that’s not the important part. The important part happened after the dance ended and we all stood out in the parking lot, catching our breath and looking for our rides.
It was a clear night with a touch of frost in the air and I shivered uncontrollably in my dress, desperately rubbing my arms. “We have to find the others,” I managed through my chattering teeth. Jason spotted Robert and Matt (minus their Sammy and Kandice counterparts) across the parking lot and he waved at them as we dodged in between the cars that slowly drove away from the school.
“Hey,” he called. “Where’s everyone else?”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Have we got a story for you.” He glanced at me and grimaced. “You have quite the pair of friends, you know.”
“Something tells me I’m not going to like this story,” Jason laughed. “Where’s Patrick? Isn’t he riding with us?”
I saw Sammy and Kandice further down the line of cars and I gave Jason’s arm a quick squeeze. “I’ll text you later.” He nodded, scanning the area for Patrick and I dashed off. Never one for fashion, I was especially thankful then for the sneakers on my feet. I wasn’t envious of all the girls teetering to their cars in high heels. “We ready to go?” I slipped between my friends.
“If we can ever find Grace,” Kandice snapped. “God, who does she think she is? My mom’s going to be waiting in the car for ages because she takes her dear sweet time to get out here.”
I shared a glance with Sammy, certain I would hear the whole story later behind her foul mood. I scanned the night for Grace, wishing she had chosen something a little brighter than a black dress. “There!” I shouted, seeing someone move in the shadows of the school. I wasn’t positive, but it looked the right height and shape for Grace.
Regret List Page 6
