by Amy Garvey
“Jess.” I touch her shoulder, because somewhere in there her eyes started darting down the hallway, through the big windows that overlook the courtyard, at a point past my right shoulder. “No. I totally wanted it. And I still do. This Friday, okay? For real. I can guarantee that nothing will happen this time, I promise.”
She considers this silently, chewing on her lip the way she used to chew on her fingernails before her mother starting putting some nasty no-biting stuff on them.
“I’m still so mad, you know?” She shakes her head. “I mean, I won’t be forever, but I don’t think I’m ready to stop yet?”
I can’t help laughing a little at that. It’s so Jess. And me, too, if I’m honest. “I get it. I’ll wait.”
Darcia nearly cries in World Lit after we talk, which is a little alarming, but she hugs me, too, a crushing bear hug that doesn’t seem possible from a girl as reedy as she is. By the time school is over, I’m exhausted.
I’m twirling the dial on my locker when someone taps my shoulder, and I turn around to find Gabriel standing there, tall and stiff and beautiful. His face is as stony as Danny’s, and I resist the urge to close my eyes so I don’t have to see it.
“I want you to listen to me,” he says, and he’s not even trying to keep this between us. Across the hall, two sophomores turn around, curious, and I fume.
“And I want you to back off.”
“No.” It doesn’t seem possible, but he straightens up another inch, as if sheer size is going to convince me. “You’re being reckless. You don’t know what you’re doing, and you could get really hurt. Not boo-hoo, broken-heart hurt, either, but hurt. You need to let me take care of this for you.”
I don’t care how big he’s trying to seem—fury makes me feel seven feet tall. “Are you kidding? Who are you, my knight in faded denim? I am not some lame princess in a tower who needs to be rescued, thank you very much.” I don’t even need to put on the scorn; it’s completely honest.
He’s immovable. “You weren’t exactly refusing my help the other night.”
If he can’t feel the power gathering strength like a storm cloud in me right now, he’s a sucktastic psychic. “So? I asked for help because I thought you were a friend. And now I’m telling you to back the fuck off. Because I don’t need your help with this, no matter what you think.”
His cheeks are hot with frustration now, and his eyes are darker, as stormy as the roiling power in my gut. “You are barely five feet tall. He’s six feet. And I don’t think he’s exactly going to be down with your plan for the evening, Wren.”
Everyone passing is slowing their steps to listen, looking over their shoulders at the two of us, and I can’t help the furious zing of power that slams a locker shut two doors down. A freshman girl jumps back with a gasp and shoots me a strange look as she hurries down the hall.
But before I can say anything else, another hand on my shoulder startles me, and I find Jess there, Darcia beside her. They’re glowering, and Jess lets her voice carry when she says, “I think she told you to drop it, new boy. What part of that didn’t you understand?”
Across the hall, Yuri Fiske snickers, but Gabriel just rolls his eyes. “You actually don’t know anything about this, so…” He spreads his hands as if this explains everything, and for a minute I actually feel sorry for him.
“What I know is that my friend is telling you to leave her alone, and you’re not listening,” Jess says steadily, and Gabriel might not understand what it means when she gets that calm, but I do, and so does Darcia. She actually swallows and takes a step back, although I’m pretty sure Jess won’t take a swing at him. “I also know that guys with testosterone poisoning are gross, and need to walk away and go lift metaphorical weights somewhere that is completely else.”
A few lockers down, Sera Fine and Jilli Beckett clap. Yuri grins, leaning against the opposite wall and looking Jess up and down like he wants to eat her for lunch, which is gross, but whatever.
“Wren,” Gabriel says, and I can’t tell if it’s a warning or a plea, but I don’t really care at the moment.
“I’m doing this,” I tell him, standing up straight and looking him directly in the eye. I know speculation about what “this” is will be all over school in less than ten minutes, as well as hotly discussed between Jess and Dar, but I don’t care about that, either. It’s not like anyone will ever guess. “And I don’t want your help, not this time.”
I don’t want it to mean good-bye, but it’s up to Gabriel to decide how to interpret it. I have to say good-bye to the first boy I ever loved tonight, for real this time. If I’m still standing by the time it’s done, I’ll be relieved.
But as I walk away, locker and books forgotten, the outrage in my chest is already melting because Jess and Dar are right behind me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MOM DOESN’T QUESTION ME GOING OUT later that night, and I don’t try to hide it. She’s still up watching TV, and when I tell her that I have one last thing to take care of, she just looks at me for a long moment before nodding.
“Be careful?”
“I know,” I say. “I will.”
She pushes hair off her forehead and takes a deep breath. “Back to whatever passes for normal after this?”
I shrug. There’s normal and then there’s normal, and then there’s the big question mark of my father still lingering between us, punctuating the one thing I still need an answer to. “We can try?”
I know she knows all of that. It’s there in the tilt of her head, her clear, warm eyes. “I’m willing if you are. School tomorrow, remember.”
When I shut the door behind me to walk to Gabriel’s, I almost feel good.
Almost. Because now I have to see Gabriel, and after our confrontation in the hall earlier, my feelings for him are snarled so messily, I’m not sure they’re ever coming untangled. I never knew you could want to curl up on a boy’s lap at the same time you wanted to hit him really hard on the head until he got a clue.
I’m not even processing what will come after I leave Gabriel’s apartment, not yet. It’s too big, a mountain of grief and regret and more than a little fear, and I figure it’s probably better to climb it when the time comes rather than imagine climbing it now.
I know Mom reminded me about school, but I’m pretty sure I won’t be getting out of bed tomorrow unless someone uses a cattle prod. And, like, a rocket launcher for backup.
It’s cold and clear as I walk, and the moon is just as full as promised, a cool silver coin laid on the dark cloth of the sky. I huddle into my coat as I turn the corner onto Gabriel’s block, breathing in the smokiness of dry leaves and dying earth, and center all my power in my chest, where I can feel it.
I asked Mom about it after dinner. Robin had gone up to her room, and I was clearing the plates from the table.
“How do you … focus?” I said, and turned around to face her. She was frowning. “The power, I mean. How do you keep it under control?”
For a moment, I was sure she was either going to explode or turtle up the way she always used to. Instead, she stood there with a dish of leftover rice in one hand and studied my face.
“There’s not a simple answer to that, babe,” she said finally, and put the bowl in the fridge before coming to stand next to me. “It depends on what you want to do.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, because there was no way I was going to explain why I needed my power to be completely under control tonight.
When I didn’t answer, she tilted her head sideways and bit her bottom lip. “It’s a matter of wanting something enough, I guess. Being able to clear your mind of everything else and concentrate specifically on making something happen.” She glanced at the kitchen table and scowled. Robin’s cat was standing there, licking a plate very delicately. “Like this.”
She drew in a deep, slow breath and looked at the cat, very steadily, and for a second I swore her eyes got darker, deeper. She raised her right hand slowly, palm
up, and the next thing I knew the cat was levitating over the table, eyes wide, hissing.
She set him down with a little bit of a thunk, and smirked. “Is that what you mean?”
I couldn’t help laughing, and for a second it all poured out—surprise, fear, love, grief. I probably sounded a little hysterical. But I managed to nod. “Yeah, sort of.”
It wasn’t really all I needed to know, but it helped. I’d been doing it ever since, concentrating, focusing, letting myself feel the power inside, smoothing it into a tight, neat ball with no rough edges, no jagged pieces. I want to be able to throw it exactly where I need it to go.
I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be by the time I climb the stairs to Gabriel’s apartment. I have to be. Time’s up after tonight, at least for another month, and that’s not even on the same planet as possible.
Gabriel answers the door after I knock once, softly. It’s eleven o’clock, and despite the muted hum of a TV I can hear in the apartment downstairs, it seems dangerous to break the night stillness.
“Hey.” He stands back to let me in, and slips my backpack from my shoulder as I walk past. It’s heavy with everything I need, and I don’t mind the gesture, since he just sets it on the table by the door. “So.”
Awkward isn’t even the word for the moment, although he seems to have accepted that I’m taking Danny to the graveyard and doing this thing on my own. He’s not bristling anymore, anyway, and I’m grateful for that.
He leans against the wall, hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans, and I can’t help thinking it makes him look like he’s trying to keep himself from reaching out to touch me. I cram the small part of me that wants that into a box and hide it deep in the back of my head. I have to.
“Are you ready?”
I want to say I hope so, because that’s the raw truth, but instead I nod, as slow and as calm as I can. “I am.” I can stop lying for good tomorrow.
“How are you going to get him over there?”
“I have a spell.”
He nods, and his hair falls into his eyes as he looks at the floor. His feet are bare, long and pale beneath his jeans legs, and they’re so naked, so vulnerable, I melt a little.
“I worked on the spell all last night and this afternoon. It’s pretty good, I think. I mean, as good as something like this can be, considering what it’s supposed to do. And I have everything I need.”
He looks up halfway through my impromptu little speech, startled, but by the end he’s nodding along, and it’s not clear even to me who I’m supposed to be reassuring.
“Explain it to me?”
So I do, sitting on the sofa facing him, our bent knees touching. It’s good to talk it through one last time, and with every step I can feel how right it is, all the pieces sliding together with a series of neat clicks.
“Can I tell you to be careful?” he says when I’m done. He bumps his knee against mine. “Or are you going to slug me?”
I bump back, and smile. “I’m not going to hit you.” I swallow, gathering the right words the way I gathered all the elements for the spell. “But I do want you to know, I’m doing this alone because I have to. I did this … thing. And no one can fix it but me. No one should fix it but me. I have all this power and I have to figure out how to use it. You can’t change that. And you can’t really help me with it, either. And I’m not doing this for you, but … would like to think you’ve got my back, just like Jess and Dar did today.”
The apartment is silent except for the distant hum of the refrigerator and the soft rush of wheels on the street outside. For a moment, Gabriel is as still as Danny, his gray eyes fixed steadily on my face, unmoving.
And I want so much to study them, sometime after tonight, to see what they’re like when he’s laughing, or when he’s about to kiss me, or when he’s falling asleep, or reading something he can’t put down. I want to know him the way I knew Danny, inside and out, and it’s scary. No, it’s terrifying, because the last time I let myself do that, I ended up down some rabbit hole where I drank from every bottle and never once thought about the consequences, just so I could cling to something that wasn’t only mine.
Love is the ultimate two-way street. I’m just a little nervous about getting behind the wheel again.
“All I want is for you to be okay,” he says finally, and I have to lean forward to catch each word because his voice is pitched so low. “Actually, no, that’s a lie. That’s not all I want. But it’s the first thing. It’s just … I like to fix things. And when you can see inside someone, when you know what they need, it’s hard not to give it to them. Like my mom, when she was dying. All she wanted was for my dad to tell her this one thing, to make this one promise to her.” He pauses to clear his throat, and even though I want more than anything to reach out and take his hand, I just wait for him to finish. I can’t help him with this any more than he can help me with Danny.
When he opens his mouth again, his voice is even rougher. “And my dad didn’t know that. He never would have thought of it, and she wasn’t going to ask. But I knew. And that meant that I could tell him. And even though he lied to her, she heard him say what she needed him to say before she died.”
That’s … horrible. Horrible and sad and not something I ever want to happen between me and someone I love. But it’s also not really what’s happening here.
“I’m so sorry.” I press my knee harder into his, and he gives me a tight smile. “But … if you really looked, and I’m guessing you at least tried, you know that I don’t secretly want you to go all superhero and do my dirty work for me, right?”
His smile is a little warmer now, but I think it would probably taste bittersweet if I pressed my mouth to his. “Yeah, I do. And I think that’s what’s really tough to swallow. Being helpless sort of sucks, Wren.”
The surprised snort that escapes makes us both laugh a little. “I get that, believe me.”
Gabriel glances at his watch. “It’s almost eleven twenty. You should probably start the show, you know?”
I do. I take a deep breath and get up off the couch, and when I turn around, Olivia is there.
“I only listened a little.” She shrugs, but then she crosses the room to put her arms around me. “Good luck seems like a crazy thing to say, so I’m just going to say do your thing, kid. I’m sorry you have to.”
I let her hold me for a second, my nose buried in her hair, but then I push away. I can’t waste time now. Gabriel squeezes my hand and kisses me, but I have to give him credit—after I go into his room, he disappears. He doesn’t ask to watch me as I whisper the words to get Danny to his feet, and he doesn’t watch as I lead him out of the apartment and down the street, his steps carefully measured as he walks beside me, his hand in mine.
This time is for me, to say good-bye to Danny. And I can’t help but be thankful that this docile, silent boy is the one beside me, because if I had to face the Danny I remember, the one I fell in love with, right now, I’m not sure I could do what I have to.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
IT’S APRIL, AND IT’S RAINING, THE KIND OF gray, sliding, icy rain that won’t stop, until everything feels damp and clammy, even the curtains when I pull them shut against the slicked window.
Danny is warm. His soaked jacket is downstairs on the coatrack, and even though his hair is wet against the back of his neck, even though he has to rub his chilly hands together for a few minutes to get the blood pumping into them, when I run my hands up under his shirt, his back is warm. When I rest my cheek against his chest, nuzzling into the faded cotton, he’s warm. I want to wrap myself in him. And I’m going to. Right now, this minute, I know that.
My mom is at work, and Robin is at a weekend soccer camp upstate, and I don’t know where Danny’s mom thinks he is, but it doesn’t matter. It’s Saturday and it’s just noon, and no one is going to be looking for us for hours.
We haven’t talked about this, not in so many words. I’m not even sure Danny knows what I’m thinking. But
we’ve been edging closer to it for weeks, months, and there aren’t a lot of boundaries left between us when we’re tangled up together anymore.
I want to erase them all, finally. I want … That’s as far as I think, really. I just want.
“Wren?”
My name is muffled, because I’m kissing him, but I’m also pulling him down onto the bed, unbuttoning the flannel he’s got over an old Weezer shirt. I’m about four steps ahead of him, and I need to let him catch up.
I drag in a shaky breath and kneel beside him on the bed, running my thumb over his cheekbone. I don’t know what he can see in my eyes, but he blinks and says, “Yeah?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“But I don’t, um, I don’t have—”
“I do.” The condoms Mom bought me—and God, I am never telling him that—are in my bedside drawer. “We’re all set.”
“Oh yeah?” He cocks an eyebrow, pulls me off balance and into his lap. “What if I say no? Ever think about that, Miss I’m All Set?”
“I really hope you’re kidding.” I kiss his collarbone, the smooth slope of his shoulder where it arches into his neck.
“I don’t think you have to worry,” he says, and the words tickle my ear as his tongue paints a light stripe against my cheek.
We don’t talk after that, not really. And it’s not perfect, I mean, there aren’t, like, rainbows and fireworks and sirens going off, but it’s perfect anyway. Because it’s Danny almost toppling over when he wrestles out of his jeans, and it’s Danny laughing into the skin of my belly when I hit my head on the wall hard enough that we both hear it crack. And it’s Danny who tangles our fingers together when we’re finally there, holding on tight, watching my face, and it’s Danny who lets me touch and explore and whisper and press smiling kisses into his hair and his cheek later, after.
I hope he remembers it the way I do. Or that he remembered it that way before I gave him memories he was never meant to have.
