by Donna Cooner
What if she says no?
Just then, Jake pushes his way through the crowd to Nikki’s side. He puts his arm around her and pulls her into his chest. I look away. This isn’t the right time to talk to Nikki. Not with Jake there.
Alex steps out of the batter’s box and takes a couple of deep breaths. I can tell he’s nervous, but not nearly as nervous as me. I take a breath. It is bottom of the ninth and just half an inning away from my chance at redemption.
Alex taps the dirt, repositions his fingers on the tape. When he steps back into the box, he looks the pitcher in the eye. The ball comes in at rocket speed, a little high, but he swings at it, and everyone can hear the unmistakable sound of the bat connecting to the sweet spot. The crowd goes wild and Alex rounds the bases to the sound of the cheering. I jump up and down, yelling like a banshee.
That’s my boyfriend and in a few minutes you are all going to know it.
The noise is deafening, but Taylor cups her hands over her mouth and shouts in my ear. “He’s really good.”
I nod, grinning widely and clutching the rolled-up paper banner in my hand. Everyone showed up as promised. I’m nervous, excited, and so freaking scared.
The game is over and the home team wins once again. Everyone is congratulating Alex out on the field. It’s go time for my promposal team. My pulse is pounding like horses galloping through my body. Alex looks up at the bleachers and sees me. He waves, smiling. The pump of the adrenaline is there, pounding into my muscles and up my spine, but now it is mingled with confidence. I was right to go ahead with the plan.
Taylor, Mia, Blair, Jayla, and I set up down by the backstop in front of the still-crowded bleachers. The news has spread, and a large group of students gathers behind us, waiting for the action.
“Good luck, Linden!” someone yells, and someone else laughs, but it isn’t about luck. It’s about not looking at the ground anymore. It’s about doing something outrageous and public. Something I’ve never had the courage to do before. In this moment, I feel capable of this and so much more. The thought of it all has my pulse pounding again, my smile growing until it takes over my face.
Breathe. Just breathe.
With all my being, I focus on unrolling the paper and not on the buzz building inside my stomach. Jayla and Blair take their places at each end of the banner, and Taylor carefully removes the red and green helium balloons from their hiding places inside a plastic trash bag. Mia positions herself for the best angles with her phone ready to shoot the video that will go out in every possible form within minutes of the answer.
ALEX RIVERA, WILL YOU GO TO PROM WITH ME? the banner reads.
Alex trots off the field and through the gate. I hold a balloon in each hand, waiting with this goofy grin on my face. Alex’s brow wrinkles in confusion when he sees the sign; then it slowly registers. He stops in front of me.
“What are you doing, Linden?” he asks.
“I know we haven’t talked about it yet, but … ”
“Don’t … ” He shakes his head.
“You’re supposed to choose a balloon,” Mia yells excitedly from behind her phone.
“Are you getting all of this?” Taylor asks her.
Alex isn’t smiling. “Let’s not do this now,” he says.
I can barely hear him. Then he leans in to say in my ear, “Can I talk to you privately?”
But nothing about this plan is private. “Sure,” I say. “Just pick the balloon.”
I hold out the green one to make it easy and smile into the camera.
“I can’t go to prom with you, Linden.”
“What?” There’s too much noise. I must have heard him wrong.
He reaches out and takes the red balloon from me. “I can’t.” He’s dead serious.
I freeze, taking it in, but not saying anything at first. My fingers open and the green balloon floats up and away.
My eyes fill up with tears and everything goes blurry. Alex sees the look on my face. “Wait. Don’t freak out. I can explain.”
It is too late. I thought he thought the app was stupid. But he does think Worthy is right. I’m not good enough for him.
Taylor gasps. “Oh. My. God.”
She turns to speak directly into Mia’s phone like she is a reporter at the scene. “He said no.”
Backing out of the parking lot, I catch sight of my face in the rearview mirror. My eyes are wild. Like crazy. And my jaw is clenched so tight there is a muscle pulsing in my cheek.
This isn’t the way it was supposed to go.
My phone starts to buzz. It’s Alex, but I don’t answer. Instead, I turn off my phone and stuff it down into my bag.
I get home. When I walk into the house, Mom is sitting on the couch waiting.
“Can we talk for a second?” she asks me when I walk through the door. “Come sit down.”
“Please, not now, Mom.” I keep walking toward the stairs. “I have a ton of homework.”
“I saw the video,” she says quietly.
It’s already online?
My heart plunges toward my feet and shock floods through my body. I can feel the tears coming, but I swallow them back down. “How?”
“I saw Max outside when I came home. He told me.” She pats the empty spot beside her on the couch and I sit down next to her, sighing heavily. Tears are running down my face continuously, but I’m not making any noise.
“Linden,” my mom says, like you say to a hurt animal to calm it down. “You’re going to be okay.”
“I’m not okay.”
“Not now, but you will be.”
She holds out her arms. I lean in and she pulls me close. That’s when I start to sob—big, ugly, gulping gasps.
When I can finally talk, I say, “I had a plan, but it all went wrong. And Alex and I were on this app called Worthy … ”
“Max told me.” She wraps her arms around my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “It’s a stupid game. They’ll move on to someone else soon. That’s how these things work. Just ignore it.”
“I wish I could. People are saying Alex and I don’t go together.” I gulp in air, trying to talk through my tears. “But I like him a lot and Worthy has ruined everything.”
“You can’t fix what other people think,” Mom says.
Tears roll down my cheeks. “I wish I were as strong as you,” I say.
“Nobody’s perfect,” she says. “Especially me. I’ve been so caught up with this new job.”
She looks so guilty, I instantly feel sorry for her. “You had a lot on your mind.”
“That’s no excuse.” She takes my hand and holds it in hers. “Don’t live your life based on other people’s judgments, Linden. It will just end up making you miserable long after this silly app fades away.”
Mom pulls me into her side and we sit like that a moment in silence. Finally, she says, “You can still go to the prom, you know.”
I shake my head. “No, I can’t. But it’s just one night. No big deal.” I’m lying and we both know it.
“But it’s prom.” She says it like it is heaven or something. I’m surprised. Mom’s never cared much about dances and dressing up. “Everyone wants to go to prom.” She pauses, a smile growing on her face. “I went with your father when we were seniors in high school.”
“And it was magical … ” I say, rolling my eyes just to tease her.
“No, it was horrible.” She shudders dramatically. “He had a bad reaction to the lobster we ate. He’d been saving up to take me to that restaurant for months, and it just ended up with him throwing up all over my shoes in the parking lot.”
I laugh. I’ve never heard that story before.
Mom pats my hand in her lap. “I’m sorry if I’ve been so crazy about recipes and the new job and … everything. I haven’t been paying enough attention to you.” Her voice breaks, and I feel a lump in my throat. “You mean everything to me.”
My body relaxes, and I give her a watery smile. “I know that, Mom.”
&n
bsp; With her other hand she touches my cheek. Then she says, “Go get cleaned up for dinner. You’re a mess.” And we both laugh.
Murphy follows me upstairs and jumps onto the bed, his brown eyes watching me as I stalk back and forth across my room. I stop at the window and look down at the front yard, where Alex stood talking to me on the phone. Back before I made a fool of myself in front of the whole school. The tears return. I blink them away, angrily.
“I have to pull myself together,” I mutter under my breath, and Murphy’s tail thumps against my bedspread. I sit down on the bed beside him and rub his soft brown ears. He rolls over on his back so I can reach his tummy. “It’s not like we were dating that long,” I tell him, but I know I’m just trying to convince myself. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”
If I keep saying it out loud, maybe I will start to believe it. I shift back against my headboard, push my earbuds into my ears, and turn up my saddest playlist to full volume. I pull my journal out of my nightstand and start to write, the words pouring out on the page.
The internet creates beasts who don’t have the nerve to say anything to your face, but speak their poison in typed messages behind computer screens. There is no beauty hiding there, and the ugliness is so much more than skin deep.
My pen stops moving and I stare down at the words I wrote. I wonder what Alex would think if he read them, but I know he’ll never get the chance. I scribble more words on the page.
Regret. Pain. Heartrending.
I almost jump out of my skin when Dad suddenly appears in my line of sight, interrupting the music pounding into my brain.
“You’re supposed to knock,” I say, after I remove one earbud.
“I did. You didn’t hear me.” He taps the top of my head for emphasis.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“There’s someone here for you.”
I remove the other earbud. “Who?”
“It’s Alex. He said he wants to talk to you.”
I chew on my lip. “Tell him I’m not here.”
He shakes his head. “He knows you’re here, Linden. I told him I would come up and get you.”
When I get downstairs, Alex is standing inside our foyer, his brows knit together. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, preparing myself for the unavoidable conversation. When I open my eyes, he’s still standing there with this sad smile on his face.
“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”
I lie. “My battery is dead.”
“Can we talk?” I nod, and he opens the front door. “Out here?”
I follow him out to the front steps and sit down. Alex sighs heavily. “I wanted to explain about this afternoon.”
“You don’t have to explain,” I whisper, biting my lip and bracing myself for what’s going to come. I try to control my voice, making it sound like I’m not about to cry. “I guess Worthy was right after all. We don’t belong together.”
“Nobody belongs to anyone,” Alex says.
Neither of us says anything for a moment. My fingers are itching to reach out and touch him, but his eyes are so sad. This is the part of the movie where a breakup song would start playing. But there is no soundtrack. No canned laughter. No happy ending.
He finally speaks. “My sister’s quinceañera is the same night as the prom. That’s why I can’t go with you.”
I blink at him, not sure I heard him right. He’s not breaking up with me.
“I was going to ask you to go with me, but I didn’t want you to miss out on the prom. I know how hard you’ve worked on it.”
Relief floods over me. “I thought the verdict made you think … differently about me.” My voice breaks.
“I told you I didn’t care about Worthy.” He’s scrutinizing me, his long, dark lashes flickering as his eyes search my face.
“I know. I’m sorry.” I misjudged him. “But everyone thinks … ”
“Forget it,” Alex says. “It doesn’t matter what everybody thinks.” I look at him, trying to discern whether he is being truthful. His eyes are steady on mine and he doesn’t look away. “You’re important to me, but so is my family.”
“I wasn’t trying to make you choose,” I say. “But if we could just explain to the people at school that you didn’t say no because of Worthy … ”
“It’s none of their business.”
So you’re not going to do anything? Are you ashamed of me?
“Evidently, it’s everyone’s business now,” I say. “The video of my promposal is being posted and shared everywhere. It’s validating everyone’s vote on Worthy. It’s humiliating. Have you seen it?”
“No, I haven’t, and I’m not going to look. Whatever’s between us has nothing to do with everyone else, and nothing to do with some video online,” he says.
“The thing is,” I start to say, then stop. “Maybe we could film a little explanation or something?”
He turns to face me, reaching out to put his hands on my shoulders and staring directly into my eyes. “It doesn’t matter to me what other people think, Linden. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”
But I can’t give up. I stepped out of my comfortable shadow in a big way with this promposal. He could step up, too. “Or you could leave the quinceañera a little early and we could go to prom later?” I offer. “That way you could go to both.” There’s a long silence, and I know what he’s going to say.
Alex shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Linden. You know I can’t do that.”
I glance away from the intensity of his stare. I can’t look at him looking at me anymore. If he really cared about me, wouldn’t he want to fix things?
“Evidently, this Worthy decree matters to you,” he says finally. “A lot.”
“It’s not that … ” My voice trails off, and I realize I have no idea what to say next.
It does matter. The thought makes my heart hurt.
“You’re not going to do anything?” I whisper.
“To fight Worthy?”
To stand up for me.
I nod.
He shakes his head.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I say quietly.
“What?”
“Us,” I say. “Maybe we aren’t right for each other.”
Quietly, he asks, “Do you really believe that?”
I don’t. But everyone else does.
He stands up. “Are you going to write down how it feels to break someone’s heart? I think that’d make a great story.”
My heart stops. I broke his heart? Me?
“I’ll see you around, Linden,” Alex says, and now my heart doesn’t just hurt—it shatters into a million different slivers of glass. But I don’t say anything and he walks away, back straight and never slowing down.
I turn to go inside, not wanting to watch him leave. When I am sure he must be gone, I lean in to rest my forehead on the door and close my eyes.
The next morning is Saturday, and even though I have to go work at the library, at least there is no school. It’s the only thing that gets me out of bed. The thought of walking through the halls after Friday night’s fiasco at the ball field is bad enough, but I know seeing Alex will be even worse.
If things could get worse.
When I turn on my phone, I can’t help but check Worthy. There have been no new posts since I was deemed unworthy.
There are no messages from Alex.
But there are two missed calls from Nikki, and three texts.
NIKKI: HOW ARE YOU?
Then, an hour later: HELLO? ARE YOU THERE?
Finally: I MISS YOU.
I miss her, too. So much. But I’m not ready to write back yet.
That afternoon, I help Mrs. Pirtle Skype with her grandson, Justin, a young marine in a camouflage uniform. He is standing in front of a Humvee.
“How are the treatments going?” Justin asks. I look over at Mrs. Pirtle. Today she’s wearing a tulip-covered scarf to cover her bald head. The red flowers are a stark contrast to
the paleness of her skin, but her eyes are bright with excitement as she leans in to see the computer screen.
“Dr. Patterson told me there are little soldiers inside the chemo. So when they put them in your body they have to fight real hard to kill off the cancer. All that fighting inside is why I feel so bad right now.”
The young marine laughs. “Just close your eyes and imagine them blowing up all those cancer cells. I’ll help.” He closes his eyes and makes loud explosion noises.
Mrs. Pirtle smiles weakly, then closes her eyes, too. Suddenly, there is the noise of engines starting up and yelling in the background. Justin looks offscreen. “I’m going to have to go now. Don’t worry about me, Grams. I’ll be fine.”
“Promise?” Mrs. Pirtle asks.
“Absolutely. You just concentrate on blowing up those cancer cells.” He looks offscreen again. “I have to go for now. I love you and I’ll be home soon.”
His hand is raised to wave good-bye when his side of screen goes black.
“Stay safe,” Mrs. Pirtle whispers. Her open hand moves to touch the screen, then she wipes away tears from her eyes.
I’m struck by how much power there is to hurt and heal within that screen.
Afterward, I sit cross-legged on the carpet in between the shelves of books, trying to soak up their comfort. I’m rereading Graceling to channel all of Katsa’s strength. But I know none of the stories would feature someone like me. I’m definitely not hero material. For once, being surrounded by books only makes me feel worse. I screwed everything up.
My eyes shift away from the shelves. Kat stands at the end of the aisle with her hands on her hips. Her curvy body is silhouetted from the window behind her. I’m sure she’s there to scold me about escaping from the front desk, but instead she comes down the aisle and sits on the floor beside me.
