Four-Letter Word

by Christa Desir

  “I still don’t get why, though? What is this game buying her?”

  Mateo shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe she met Cam at summer camp when they were fifth graders and he was mean to her and this is her way of getting back at him?”

  Mateo looked at me like I was nuts. “Chloe.”

  “Or maybe she’s a student from the college and this is a sociological experiment about how obsessive teenagers can be?”

  “Chloe, stop,” Mateo said, his voice low and gentle. “We’re not going to figure out her motives. Just . . . please play the game tonight. I need you there. It’s the only thing I can think of that might stop her. Please, Chloe, please.” My whole life I’d never forget Mateo’s voice and how he said my name and please. God, he made everything inside me grow so warm.

  “Mateo,” I whispered back. “I . . .”

  “If we have three of the four letters, we’re almost guaranteed a win. We can figure out the word. Eve and Holly are on board. They have a stake in this too. Please. We need you.”

  I shook my head. “She probably won’t let me play again. She froze me out with everyone this week. Why would she take me back?”

  He put his hand on my thigh and squeezed. “She’ll let you play. She’ll love it. She’s mentioned it a bunch of times to me this week—speculating about how long it’ll take you to come crawling back. It’ll feel like a victory to her, you groveling to play again.”

  “I’m not groveling.”

  “I know you don’t want to, but still. You were the only one she couldn’t break with secrets. She wants you to want to come back. To tell her she was right all along. It shouldn’t be that hard to talk yourself back into the game.”

  I almost told him the only way she’d want me back would be so she could watch me lose Mateo to her, but it felt stupid and needy and nothing Mateo would be interested in hearing.

  “Trust me,” he said.

  I wanted to ask Mateo just how much he knew about everyone. I wondered about all the back-channel conversations he’d had to orchestrate this plan. But asking him meant telling him everything I knew and just how I came to know it and I wasn’t prepared to do that.

  “This all feels very high drama for Grinnell.”

  He laughed once. “Maybe. And maybe she doesn’t even completely understand what’s at stake for us, but it doesn’t really change things. Chloe, my family, I keep thinking maybe I should tell them everything. But we’d have to leave. They wouldn’t want to risk it. I need this chance for us. For you and me.”

  My heart flipped. “I know. I know.” I released a long breath. “You’d still have to figure out the word. Three letters isn’t a for-sure win. And she’ll probably pick an anagram.”

  He grinned wide and leaned forward to kiss me, all sure of himself again. His smooth varsity kisses felt good even if I missed the desperate, unhinged side of him. Finally, he pulled back and said, “With you playing too? I have to believe we’ll win. I’m not giving up on hope.”

  Then all my misgivings went out the window because he pulled me onto his lap and fumbled to get my shirt off again and unbuttoned the top of my jeans, his kisses growing sloppier with each press forward. And it turned out I didn’t have to pee after all, that it was the other thing.

  22

  Mateo left me at the end of my block at six o’clock, claiming he needed to get the truck back, but I guessed it was more likely he was ducking the dinner invite from Nan. She didn’t hide her disappointment when I walked in the door alone.

  She eyed me throughout dinner—pork chops and applesauce—and Pops grumbled more than usual, but he didn’t point-blank ask me what was up with Mateo. Nor did Nan speculate more about any possible future children of ours. Thank God. Instead, they grilled me about my decision to join my parents in Burkina Faso. I fidgeted in my seat, not only because I hadn’t come to any decision, but also because my bra was digging into my back since I’d accidentally twisted the strap when I was trying to rehook it in the truck right before Mateo dropped me off. Adjusting it would only lead to a third-degree grilling I wasn’t interested in, so I let it be.

  After I did the dishes, I put on my most neutral face and said to Nan, “I’m going to Melissa’s to watch a movie tonight.”

  “Melissa McGrill? The pregnant one?”

  “She’s not pregnant.”

  Not anymore.

  Nan tilted her head. “Is that why you were acting all out of sorts at dinner? Were you afraid to tell me about these plans? I thought it might have been because of that boy.”

  I didn’t even really consider Nan’s disapproval of Melissa, but I was glad it worked to my advantage, even as I simultaneously felt crappy that I’d have to bail on my plans with Melissa and Seth.

  “First, don’t call him that boy as if he’s carrying a terminal illness. His name is Mateo. And before you started fretting over our future half-Mexican babies, you were actually excited that I was spending time with him. Second, you haven’t been the nicest to Melissa at church, so I think it’s only fair you make up for that by letting me watch a movie with her.”

  My words came out too sharply, and Nan flinched a little. I instantly regretted my tone. Part of returning to Grinnell when my parents stayed in Burkina Faso was this unspoken contract that I wouldn’t give my grandparents a hard time. For all that my parents were constantly at odds with Nan and Pops’s politics, it was a gift having them agree to keep me, and all of us knew it. So I almost never snapped at my grandparents, but the game was stressing me out.

  Nan crossed her arms and straightened her spine. “I’m looking out for your well-being, including monitoring the influences around you. That’s what family does. That’s what I told your mother I would do when she asked me to look after you.”

  My shoulders slumped. “I know, Nan. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

  “You wanted to live here with us.”

  I nodded and felt my chin tremble. “I know. If you don’t want me to stay . . .” I looked down, unable to choke out the rest.

  Nan sighed. “Of course we want you to stay. I didn’t mean to imply we didn’t want you. This isn’t your fault.”

  I shrugged. Honestly, it actually was. My fault for not being able to cut it in Burkina Faso, and begging to come home. My fault for being afraid of too many things, because my fear had proven such a roadblock in my parents’ efforts to save the world. My fault for being the child who survived but was a disappointment rather than the baby who was full of potential but had died. We don’t always get what we want, Chloe. But maybe sometimes what we get is the right thing anyway.

  “So can I go to Melissa’s?” I asked in a quiet voice.

  Nan tsked. “Where’s Eve? You haven’t seen her in a while. She has that good Lutheran mother.”

  I rolled my eyes with a ridiculous amount of exaggeration, knowing it drove Nan bananas when I donned my petulant-teenage-girl cape and hoping it’d diffuse my sharp words from earlier. “Melissa’s mom goes to church too. You’ve seen them there.”

  “Fat lot of good Pastor John has been for that family.”

  “Nan,” I said, my voice more of a plea now. “Melissa doesn’t really have anyone. Isn’t this what grace is supposed to be?”

  “The Lord is in charge of grace. It’s not up to teenage girls.”

  “Nan,” I pleaded again. I couldn’t believe I was begging to fake-hang-out with a friend. Nan would go ballistic if she knew about Chloe Donnelly and the game.

  “Fine, but Pops will wait up for you. No drinking or vaping or doing molly or whatever it is you kids do these days.”

  An unexpected laugh burst from my mouth. Vaping? Molly? In an actual display of granddaughter affection that I instigated, I hugged her. “Nan, you have to stop watching Access Hollywood when Pops is playing bridge with his pals. It’s given you a skewed perspective of the world.”

  “Nonsense,” Nan replied, shaking out of my hug. “I watch for the celebrity outfits.”


  I squeezed her shoulder. “Thanks,” I said. “For everything.”

  Nan smiled. “God, family, then everything else, Chloe. Those have always been my priorities, and I’m too old to change them.”

  “I know, Nan. I know. I love you.”

  I grabbed a hoodie from the closet but didn’t bother changing my clothes otherwise. First, because Nan would get suspicious of an outfit switch only to watch a movie with Melissa. And second, because my clothes apparently didn’t factor in much when it came to Mateo’s interest in kissing me or my ability to fluster him. My cheeks heated as I thought about all the stuff we’d done in that truck, how anyone could have peeked in but somehow it didn’t matter because it all felt so good. It probably was considered PDA, which until now seemed horrible and show-offy. I wished I had someone real to tell about it, but Eve and Holly were out of the question, and explaining getting fingered to Melissa seemed awkward times a million. We weren’t at the stage where we could talk about that kind of stuff.

  Pops stood at the door as I headed out. “Watch movies with your friends here next time, doll. I’ll make snacks and tell old-man jokes.”

  He laughed and for a second I considered saying something to him, explaining about Gestapo and Chloe Donnelly manipulating everyone. The thought of having Pops to work through with me what to do was so appealing, but then I remembered Mateo. Pops might not be as vocal as Nan, but he certainly had thoughts about the undocumented. Stealing American jobs. So instead, I hugged him too, and said, “Sure, Pops. Next time.”

  He held on to my arm for a second and said, “Make good choices, Chloe doll.”

  It was something my mom would’ve said, and for the first time I understood how she could be the child of these two. All three of them loved their family and valued integrity—the problem was they couldn’t agree on what exactly that meant.

  “Okay, Pops. Love you.” Then I hugged him again and headed out toward the college campus.

  * * *

  A weird calm settled over me as I got closer to Burling Library. I didn’t bite my nails or let my hair fall in front of my face. I walked with purpose and a certainty that, no matter what, everything would be resolved tonight.

  Chloe Donnelly didn’t even look surprised to see me when I stepped into the pool of light by the library. She wore a purple dress with large outer pockets that matched the ring on her right-hand finger, and her hair was pulled back in a scarf that looked exactly like the one she’d stolen for me, the one that was still tucked away in Pops’s tidy closet, waiting to be returned or paid for. She was even more ghostly pale under the glow of the library lights. Her blue eyes shone in victory as soon as she met my gaze.

  “Well, well, look who decided to turn up. Isn’t this pink?”

  I didn’t even glance at Mateo before I answered, the calm burrowed so deep inside that I didn’t need his reassurance. “I was wrong, Chloe. I’m sorry. I still want to play.”

  Her eyes lit up even more, but she adjusted the scarf on her head completely casually. “You think it’s that easy?”

  Of course it wasn’t that easy. She wanted to make me beg and she wanted to gloat.

  “I’m sorry, Chloe,” I repeated.

  I could see the anger in her face. My simple apology was ruining this for her. “Try harder. That’s not going to work.”

  “Well . . .” I glanced around. “You don’t seem to have another girl to play in my place tonight, so we could stand here and have it out, or you could take the high road and forgive me now so we can get the game started.”

  She shot a look to Mateo but he didn’t react. He looked at me as if I were just another girl. For a second I felt his coldness cut through me, but then I remembered the afternoon and how his hands got shaky and he had to catch his breath after kissing me.

  “Don’t you want me to be around to see you win your platinum favor?” I hedged. Mateo glanced at me in confusion, but Chloe Donnelly stared at me as if I’d just planted my surrender flag at her feet. I’d been right, her platinum favor 100 percent involved Mateo. Probably Mateo naked. I shut the door on that image and focused.

  Cam stepped forward, a layer of disgust on his face that overshadowed his usual boredom. “Just let it go for chrissakes and let’s play the game.”

  For a second I felt bad for him, for his small life filled with detention and post-lunch make-out sessions with his girlfriend. For his grudging promise to Holly of “no more girls” that made me wonder if he’d fooled around a lot, and why. He was never going to leave Grinnell, no matter how often he took off in his car. High school was probably going to be the best time of his life. He’d be stuck in this town till he became like one of the old guys Pops hung out with at the farm store. Cam was nothing like his brother. All that wasted singing talent he’d never do anything with. Aiden would give up everything to get out of here, but not Cam. Too lazy or too defeated. It was sad, really. But before I could spend more time on the pity train, I shook myself and remembered how easily he dropped to his knees in front of Chloe Donnelly, and all my compassion stalled out.

  “Cam’s right,” Mateo said. “Let’s just play.”

  It was a risk, Mateo taking my side. And I wondered if he’d pay for it later, but Chloe Donnelly huffed and said, “Fine.” Then she pointed at me. “But you and I need to hash a few things out before we get back to school on Monday, Other Chloe.”

  I faltered. Other Chloe. I’d almost forgotten after a week of near silence. My gaze darted to Mateo, who gave me an imperceptible nod. I shrugged and pulled out all the stops on my confidence. “Whatever. I’ll hash it out with you tomorrow. You can come over and I’ll put on a full show of groveling. Okay?”

  Tomorrow might suck. Agreeing to a weekend of possible misery and kissing butt was a gamble, but maybe the outcome of tonight would prevent it. Maybe Chloe Donnelly’s wings would be clipped.

  “Okay. Fine,” she sneered. “Then you can help me plan out my platinum favor.” She tilted her head slightly toward Mateo and I wanted to barf, but I nodded like I’d already given up in defeat to her.

  Eve and Holly both looked slightly relieved when I joined them, and it helped me feel more sure of my decision to play again. Mateo clearly had talked to them. And while I wasn’t 100 percent certain the guys would win, I did feel confident this was the last time any of us would play. Cam and Chloe Donnelly made a big show of stepping away from the group to write their words on slips of paper. She put her folded paper in her large pocket and I caught Mateo’s gaze as it lingered on the pocket. I hoped he wasn’t contemplating looking for her so he could steal it. He glanced at me and shook his head slightly as if to assure me.

  Chloe Donnelly rejoined us and practically snarled a K at me when she gave me my letter next to the front door of Burling. I offered a benign smile and nodded. A couple of college students pushed out of the library doors and looked at us with a Can we help you? stare, but they didn’t say or do anything.

  “Back here at ten thirty,” Chloe Donnelly said when we all circled up again. “Make it pink, everyone.”

  Make it pink? Pink. That stupid word. I wouldn’t have put it past her to have made up the slang. And when once I’d thought pink sounded trendy and elite, now it sounded silly.

  Holly whispered in Cam’s ear and then kissed him. For a moment after he stepped back, the sleazy gross version of him slipped away and I saw his scared and vulnerable side. The Cam who’d been devastated to lose the student council election to Aiden in elementary school and couldn’t hold back his tears in class. The Cam who sang “40” as if he really were waiting for God. The Cam who said It fucking kills me when you cry to Holly. He wore the same identical face I’d seen on Aiden when Josh suggested maybe he shouldn’t go to the Naval Academy. Maybe the two brothers had more in common than their looks.

  But then the vulnerability was gone and Cam’s smirk was back. He tapped Holly on the butt in this really obvious way. God, he was so messed up. Then he slapped Aiden on the shoulder and said
loudly, “Aiden, try to find a girl this time.”

  Chloe Donnelly grinned and Josh flinched, but neither Eve nor Holly seemed to understand the dig, which meant the secret had stayed with his family. I looked at Mateo, but he didn’t react to Cam’s words. Instead, he was watching my face. I thought he might have winked before he turned away, but I couldn’t be completely sure and it didn’t really matter. After tonight he’d be able to wink at me whenever he wanted.

  I zipped my hoodie up and fisted my hands in the pockets, ready to go. I headed in the direction of East Campus and didn’t bother looking back. The college was eerily quiet, and I wondered if there was some big campus event that kept everyone inside. When I was younger, my parents told me constantly about all the great opportunities the college gave to its students. They called me a “Grinnell Chip” as if I was guaranteed to follow in their footsteps. I’d dodged the conversation, continued to dodge it, even as graduation loomed a year closer and I’d have to tell them eventually. There was no way I was staying in Grinnell. The school might be acclaimed as the “Harvard of Iowa,” but I wasn’t intending on sticking around to find out.

  My phone buzzed with a text when I was halfway to the JRC, going a longer roundabout way to get there. I pulled it out and saw Melissa’s name.

  So are you still up for movie night?

  Guilt swamped me, but I shook myself. Eye on the prize. I barely hesitated when I typed back: Something came up. Can’t make it.

  She didn’t respond and I felt like crap all over again. She was probably my only real friend in the world right now, and I hated that I was blowing her off for this. But the memory of Mateo’s hands and kisses and the way he guided my hands and whispered, Please, Chloe, in the truck was enough to tamp down my regret. I was doing this for him. I promised myself I’d make things up to Melissa at lunch on Monday. I’d sit with her even if I was invited back with Holly and Eve.