Forever for a Year

by B. T. Gottfred

  “It’s okay,” I said, before she could decide to tell me or not, “I get mad at my parents too.” She shook her head, but not really up and down or side to side. Shook it all directions. So I asked her about how she liked her first week of school, and even though it was a boring question, I could tell she appreciated it. She told me about her classes as if I wasn’t in half of them, but I didn’t mind since I liked hearing her talk. Then she asked me what I thought of school, and I pretended it wasn’t pointless, because if she knew how much I hated it she probably wouldn’t like me. That makes me a liar, but I don’t know, I hope that Carolina will make school not as pointless, so maybe I won’t be a liar in the future even if I’m a liar today.

  * * *

  Her dad arrived sooner than I would have liked. I wasn’t going to kiss her—I liked her too much to kiss her so soon—but I would have liked to just be close to her, just by ourselves, for longer. Her dad drove a Prius, the old model, and it had a big dent in the side and no hubcaps. I guess Carolina’s parents don’t have that much money. I suck. I shouldn’t think about that. But I can always tell how rich people are by what their cars look like and then I can’t not think it. I don’t care that Carolina’s family doesn’t have as much money as mine. They’re probably a lot happier without it. Money sure as hell never made my mom happy.

  “Scott, this is Trevor. Trevor, this is my dad, Scott,” Carolina said as she got in the front seat and I got in the back. Had to push aside three fast-food bags and some books so I could sit. Calling her dad “Scott” made Carolina seem really mature. Maybe I should call my parents by their first names.

  “Nice to meet you, Trevor,” her dad said, then started driving. “What part of town do you live in?”

  “Covered Bridges,” I said, and I hated that I had to say it. It was the wealthy part of town. Carolina was going to think I was a snob, which I probably was because I suck, but then she said, “Kendra lives there! It’s very nice. Scott, isn’t it really nice?”

  “It is very nice. Did you grow up in Riverbend, Trevor?” Carolina’s dad had longer hair for a grown-up. Not as long as mine. But a lot longer than my dad’s. It looked cool. It also made him look younger. He wore jeans and a T-shirt—not old, boxy jeans and shirts like my dad, but designer stuff. Hip. He must be a fun dad. Don’t see how Carolina could be mad at him.

  I said, “No, we just moved here from California over the summer. My mom grew up here, though.”

  “I grew up in Gladys Park, the next town over. What’s your mom’s name?”

  “Ashley Santos.”

  “Is that her married name?”

  “Oh yeah. No. Her name was Ashley McCarthy,” I said, and as I said it Carolina’s dad grinned. I didn’t like that he grinned. He knew my mom when they were kids. I didn’t like that he knew her. Not at all.

  “I knew your mom,” he said. Yeah, Scott, I knew that already. “She was so beautiful—”

  “She still is,” I said. Why did I say that? Who cares? I wanted out of this car. Not away from Carolina. No. We should run away together, forever.

  “I bet she is. Tell her Scott Fisher from Midnight Dogs says hello. She’ll know what that means.” No way was I telling my mom hello for him. But I would. I’d have to. Carolina and I were going to be … Yep. I’d have to.

  Carolina, always knowing the right thing to say, said, “Trevor and I have three classes together.”

  “Well, Trevor,” he said, “I hope you can help Carolina take school a little less seriously.”

  “I like how Carolina does everything,” I said, which I didn’t mean. Maybe I meant it. But I didn’t know for sure. My brain wasn’t focused. It was tied up about Scott and my mom. And I don’t know. I couldn’t really … I don’t know. Carolina liked what I said, though. She smiled at me from the front seat. This glow surrounded her. Like she was an angel. That’s lame. Like she was a ghost. A ghost angel. I don’t know. It all sounds lame. But she and her glow were the opposite of lame.

  “I stand corrected,” her dad said. “I respect that. Okay, then.” We had turned into the Covered Bridges development. I told him what turns to make to my house. You know how many covered bridges are in Covered Bridges? Zero. Yep. Zero. That is why this world sucks!

  Never mind. It’s boring to be so negative. I don’t want Carolina to see that. I’m going to be more positive. For her.

  * * *

  After Scott stopped in front of my house, I thanked him and said to Carolina, “Thanks, Carolina,” even though I don’t know what I was thanking her for. Not literally. I got out of the car, started moving toward the front door, and it felt wrong not to hug her good-bye. Damn. My body just wanted to hug her. But I couldn’t hug her in front of her dad. Not after our first date. This wasn’t even a real date! Trev, you probably are imagining that any of this will mean anything. By Monday, everything will probably go back to what it was. Strangers. Or worse.

  But then I heard a door open and turned. Carolina ran toward me. Not fast. But faster than walking. And she was embarrassed, and could barely look me in the eyes. She opened her arms and wrapped me in them. And I hugged her back. Tight but not so tight. Then she pulled back a little, and we were staring at each other. So close. Her face was so close. Her lips were so close.

  She wanted me to kiss her.

  Crap.

  Did she?

  What if I was wrong? I couldn’t be wrong about this!

  Help!

  Kiss her!

  No.

  Don’t. So dumb, Trevor. She smiled, said, “Thank you,” and turned before I could kiss her, or before I could not kiss her longer, and got back into her dad’s car.

  * * *

  After I got into bed, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Carolina. About kissing her. About holding her hand. About her being my girlfriend. After thinking about this, obsessing about it actually, I realized my mouth had been stuck in this dorky frozen smile. Man, I’m such a loser. But I still went back to thinking about her. I sure as hell wasn’t going to sleep.

  25

  Carolina gets a text

  “He wants to kiss you, Carolina,” my dad said as I watched Trevor walk toward his front door.

  “No, he doesn’t. Shut up,” I said. Trevor had such a nice house. It was fifty times bigger than ours. Gosh. He wouldn’t like me anymore once he saw how we weren’t as rich as he was.

  “Look how slow he’s walking.”

  “Shut up, Dad!” But I liked that he said it. My dad always treated me like I was his friend, not like a little girl. Which was amazing. Sometimes.

  “Just go hug him good-bye, you’ll see.”

  “No, he’ll think—” But then I stopped talking, opened the car door, and ran after him. But I didn’t want to look too nervous, so I think I slowed down, but I was too nervous so I’m not sure what really happened. I hugged him because—wait, gosh, what was I doing? This was so weird. I’m so weird! I don’t know how this works! He’s going to be able to tell and then my life will be over. STOP BEING SO DRAMATIC, CAROLINA. I just hugged him for two more seconds, and then I pulled back a tiny, tiny, tiny bit. Because if we were hugging we wouldn’t be able to kiss. Wait.

  Wait.

  Wait a minute. He was going to kiss me. Our faces were, like, an inch apart, we were the only people in the universe, except I couldn’t stop thinking about how my dad was watching, and maybe his parents, and how I would tell Peggy then Kendra, or maybe Kendra then Peggy, and then, wait …

  Wait a minute.

  He wasn’t kissing me! He didn’t like me! He didn’t like me at all!

  Wait a minute.

  He was nervous. Oh. Gosh. He was as nervous as I was! Which was amazing. That meant he really liked me, didn’t it? But I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t kiss him first. So I said, “Thank you,” and then turned before I died from love or something.

  * * *

  “I guess I was wrong,” my dad said when I got back in the car.

  “No,
you were right. He was just nervous.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “Because…” And I was going to say, we’re in love, but that would sound crazy, even to my crazy dad, and then I was going to say, because I know him, but that felt like I wouldn’t know what I was talking about even though I did, and so I said, “I just can.”

  After we had driven across town, my dad stopped in front of our house. I had almost forgotten he didn’t live with us. So I said, “Mom and I are going to have sushi tomorrow night. Do you want to have it with us?”

  “If you think your mom would like me there, yes.”

  “Of course she wants you there. You were really nice to me this week. So I want you there too.”

  “I love ya, kid,” he said. And I almost told him I loved him too, but instead I hugged him and went inside.

  * * *

  When I woke up in the morning, there was a giant thing in my stomach that sort of felt like it could be pain but then I thought it was excitement, and then, I don’t know, it was maybe both. I didn’t look at my phone for as long as I could stand because I wanted to give Trevor as long as possible to text me, so, like, twelve minutes later, I finally looked at my phone. There was no text. This was sooo horrible I wanted to cry, but instead I breathed deeply, told myself it was okay and that everything was fine. I’m really getting better. I am.

  I called Peggy, but her phone went straight to voice mail. I remembered she had been sick, and the police, and felt selfish for wanting to talk to her about Trevor. So I called Kendra and I told her what happened and then she asked, “So is he your boyfriend now?”

  Oh. My. Gosh. Maybe? Oh. Maybe. “I don’t know,” I said.

  “You should ask him.”

  “You can’t ask someone that, Kendra!”

  “Then how are you supposed to ever know if someone is your boyfriend?”

  This was a stupid thing to say!

  Then I thought about it.

  Maybe it was an amazing thing to say. Kendra was so smart. I’m smart. So is Peggy. But Kendra was smart in a way I had never seen before. “You’re right,” I said. “I’ll ask him. But, like, in two weeks. He might not even like me anymore today.”

  “I think he likes you a lot,” she said.

  “Me too,” I said, then giggled without making a noise. After I hung up with Kendra, I saw there was a text message. It hadn’t beeped. I held my breath and opened up the text and—

  It was from him!

  I sound like I’m ten. Gosh. I’m not ten. So I went mentally back in time and when I saw the text, I tried thinking: “That’s nice that Trevor texted.” But that sounded like a robot, so I stopped pretending I wasn’t me and just read the text.

  It said:

  TREVOR

  Hope you have a great Saturday, Carolina

  Which was so kind. And sophisticated. But also like HE WAS A ROBOT and I wasn’t going to respond right that second because I didn’t want him to know how much I wanted to respond, but then I typed:

  ME

  You too :)

  And pressed send before I could do anything else. Then … he didn’t respond. And I was going to explode. I hated myself because I never listen to what my smarter, older self says, and I knew I would ruin everything I ever wanted, but then—

  He texted back. It was a minute later. That sounds like a short time, but it was forever. Trust me.

  TREVOR

  Thanks ;)

  The ;) made me think he was flirting with me—WHAT ELSE COULD IT BE?—so I didn’t even pause and texted back:

  ME

  This is weird but suddenly

  I’m so much more excited about

  school on Monday

  This was super insane for me to text, because it basically said, “I love you, Trevor,” but, you know, I don’t care. Or maybe I couldn’t stop myself even if I did care. So I don’t care because I can’t stop.

  And then? He texted back (and reminded me it was Labor Day so we wouldn’t have school until Tuesday, but it was cute how he told me) and it was amazing and I texted him and then he texted me, and guess what? We texted, like, the whole day, and by the time dinner came around, we had texted back and forth three hundred and nineteen times. I counted. How did people get to know each other before texting? It must have been so hard.

  * * *

  Sushi with my parents that night was really nice. My dad was being amazing. And my mom was so happy, and she was so happy for me for being happy, and I was happy for her being happy because I was so happy. I mean, maybe Trevor and I getting together would save my parents’ marriage. It could. We were that amazing together.

  Then I said, “Dad knows Trevor’s mom from high school,” except my mom didn’t like hearing it.

  “We were just friends,” my dad said. He was lying. I can always tell when Dad lies because he leans over and opens his eyes very wide and tries really hard to prove he’s telling the truth by not blinking as he stares right at you. My mom can’t tell when he lies, which is good, because I want my mom and dad to get back together. I want to have a normal family so Trevor doesn’t get scared away by all our problems. My dad learned his lesson. Right? Anyway, now that I know what love is, I can explain to my dad how to not hurt my mom again.

  And I don’t care if my dad and Trevor’s mom were, like, boyfriend and girlfriend fifty years ago. If they were serious at all, they would have gotten married. But I do think it was just another sign that Trevor and I were meant for each other.

  WHICH IS CRAZY.

  But amazing.

  * * *

  So Trevor and I texted all day Sunday. I was hoping he’d say something like, Want to go study at Starbucks together? or call me even, but texting was still great.

  I didn’t hear from Peggy until Sunday evening. She called and said, “Hi.”

  “How are you? You okay? I was so worried.” And I was worried, I was, I just hadn’t thought about how worried I was because of Trevor. I’m a horrible person.

  “My mom is taking away my phone, but she went to the store, so I’m using it now.”

  “Is she super mad?”

  “Yeah, but she’s always super mad, so I don’t care. But I’m never drinking again. You were so smart. I’m sorry. I was so sick yesterday. Last week was so strange. I can’t wait for things to go back to normal. You’re the best friend in the world, Carrie.”

  I didn’t correct her. But I did say, “You are too, Marguerite.”

  “I’m sorry. Carolina,” she said.

  “I don’t care.” I did care. But I didn’t want to make her feel bad.

  “Don’t you think our new names sound dumb? I think we should just go back to Peggy and Carrie.”

  “Those were our junior high names.”

  “Don’t you wish,” Peggy said, then stopped, then started again, “we could just go back to being in junior high? Things were so much better there.”

  “Yeah,” I said, but then I said, “but I like high school. I think it’s good that we got older.”

  “I want to be Peggy,” she said, and I could tell she was mad at me.

  “Okay. But I want to be Carolina.”

  “I want to call you Carrie.” This made me mad. But I had done a horrible job of calling her Marguerite both in my head and to her face, so I just said, “Okay, but I want everyone else to call me Carolina.”

  “Like Kendra?” she said.

  “Yes. And … everyone.” I didn’t even want to tell her about Trevor. She was in the worst mood ever.

  “That’s fine. I’ll be special. I’ll be the only one that knows the real you.” This used to make me feel so good, but Peggy didn’t say it to make me feel good, I don’t think. We talked a little bit more, about unimportant stuff like homework, and then we hung up and I felt really sad and I didn’t really know why, but then I saw a text.

  TREVOR

  Are you free next Saturday?

  So I texted back within one second:

  ME

&n
bsp; Yes :)

  TREVOR

  Want to hang out with me?

  ME

  Yes :)

  TREVOR

  ;)

  So. Like. (Don’t say “like” so much, Carolina. Really.)

  So. Next Saturday would be … a date, right? Yes. My first high school date. My first real date, EVER.

  This was the most amazing thing in the history of the universe. I’m exaggerating, but I’m doing it on purpose because I’m funny. But really. It was really the most amazing thing that ever happened to me, and my dad says we each live in our own private universes, so it’s funny and true, sort of. Never mind.

  But really! I had a date! But it was literally six billion years away. I could never wait that long. I’d think about it every second and not be able to study or walk or probably even breathe. Gosh. Really, Carolina. Stop being such a silly little girl who makes such a big deal out of everything. You’ll be fine. It’s just a week. Six days.

  OH MY GOSH. That’s so amazing. And forever.

  26

  Trevor has a seat saved

  On the way to school Tuesday, despite Carolina and I texting constantly all weekend, I was sure, just goddamn sure, that when she saw me again in biology, she was not going to like me anymore. Or forget what I looked like. Not who I was. But more like, “Oh, wait, you don’t look anything like the boy I said I liked on Friday night.”

  Yeah, I’m sort of obsessed with worst-case scenarios. You know why? Because it’s a lot better than thinking everything is going to be great and then something, anything, going wrong. You know why else? Because bad stuff always happens!

  But you know what? After I got off the bus, as I was walking through the front doors of the school, my phone beeped with a text.

  It was from Carolina:

  CAROLINA

  I got to class early and saved

  you the desk next to me.

  My face snapped into the goofy-ass smile. How. Did. I. Find. The. Most. Awesome. Girl. On. The. Planet? Then, because I’m the weakest, worst jerk on the planet, I started thinking that when I saw Carolina I wouldn’t like her. I’d be like, “Oh, wait, you don’t look anything like the girl I said I liked on Friday night.” Crap. Crap! This was gonna happen, I just knew it.