Love and Other Secrets

by Christina Mandelski

  Actually, as I watch back the interviews, it hits me how much importance is put on lots of things in high school. Like prom, for example. Why do so many people set this one event up as the pinnacle of the high school experience? It’s one night that requires tons of planning. It’s super expensive. When it all comes down to it, Edna was exactly right, it’s only a dance. Seriously, what’s the appeal?

  There’s a knock on my door, and I wait for Mom to bust in, but it’s not her, it’s Dad. I stare at him suspiciously. He doesn’t usually come in here. His big frame practically fills the whole space.

  “Raven Girl,” he says. He’s called me that since I was a baby because a tiny part of his family tree, and mine, is Native American. He doesn’t know much about our heritage, but he’s studied the culture and how the raven is a sign of transformation. He said it was the perfect name for a dark-haired baby who changed a little bit every day, and who changed his life completely. He actually wanted to name me Raven, but luckily my mother had a say in that decision.

  Yet another private detail of my life Alex Koviak knows.

  “Hey, Dad,” I say. “You okay?”

  “Me? Of course. Heading out to work in a few.” He sits on the far end of my bed with a creak. The mattress sinks several inches. “Gotta bring home the bacon so my brilliant daughter can make great cinema.”

  He says “great cinema” with a flourish. This is a regular speech of his.

  If it were only that easy. I plan to do everything possible to make my goals happen, but it all feels a very long way from here.

  I have to admit: last week when I woke up in Alex’s arms, I thought, for the teeny tiniest second, that maybe he would be a part of my future, as more than a friend. I let myself imagine a red carpet, where he might be beside me wearing a tux and looking impossibly handsome.

  “Hello?” Dad asks as I sit in silence. “Earth to Bailey?”

  “Yeah, I’m listening.”

  “So you know, your mother’s going batty. She wants to know what happened.”

  I inhale and pull my knees up to my chin. I don’t want to worry them. “Dad. It’s a long story, but I’m really okay.”

  “This have to do with that doofy kid?”

  I narrow my eyes. “You thought he was doofy?”

  “Yes ma’am, I did.” He crosses his arms.

  I start to defend Alex, but I catch myself.

  “He didn’t break your heart or anything, did he?”

  I stare at my father. His eyes are light gray, like mine. My heart swells with affection for him. “Maybe a little. But Dad, it wasn’t really his fault. I should have known better, and I’m already over it.”

  “You are?”

  I smile. It’s not really a lie. I’ll be over him one day, hopefully soon. “Yes.”

  He reaches out with his bear paw hand, messes up my hair, and smiles back. “Good. We’ve only got you for another year and a half. I don’t want to share you with some dumb boy.”

  I roll my eyes, and he laughs. “You can tell Mom she can stop worrying,” I say.

  Once they’re both gone, I get back to work and pull out a box of Sno Caps I bought at work. They taste like cardboard in my mouth. Nice. He’s ruined Sno Caps for me, too?

  My room seems smaller since Dad left it. The A/C is only sort of working, and the air is stale. The cheap brown wood paneling mocks me. I want to paint over it, but we rent this place, and we’d have to get the landlord’s approval.

  The landlord’s name is Earl. He’s about ninety-eight and very cranky. Things we ask Earl to do are usually necessities. Like plumbing issues, or when the freezer goes out, and even then, Dad and Mom try to fix things first.

  It makes me cringe again to think of when Alex was here. I can’t imagine him being able to live in a space this confining.

  I don’t care. Screw him and his ninety-four thousand square foot house.

  It’s almost midnight by the time I change into pajamas. I put aside the laptop, discouraged by what are really lousy interviews. I’m gonna need a lot more material.

  I switch off my lamp and stare at the ceiling in the dark. For three nights now, I’ve done this, replaying scenes between me and Alex. The closet dance. The kiss. The promposal. The lecture where I gave him the dress back and ripped him a new one.

  I regret nothing, but I can’t stop the creeping sadness that overcomes me when I think of him. I can’t help but miss us, what we were, or what I thought we were.

  An hour later, still wide awake, I pick up my phone. Apparently letting myself fall for the wrong boy means that I will be an insomniac for the rest of my life. I flop onto my stomach, which churns when my eyes lock on the YouTube icon.

  I have not watched any of the promposal videos, but I know that people are still talking about it judging from the frequent cow-calls I get when I’m at work or on campus. I don’t need to see it—not at all—it’s more than enough to know that it’s out there, gaining views and likes on a daily basis. I head to Snapchat instead, where I can lurk and hopefully not relive the promposal nightmare.

  The first story I see is one of the lacrosse guys talking about the shitty refereeing at tonight’s game.

  So they lost. Instinctively, I think about what that will do to Alex. He hates to lose. When I yelled that nothing is a big deal to him, of course I was wrong. Lacrosse is a big deal and something that he’s passionate about. Not that I’m ready to take back all that I said to him. All the rest was true.

  Next I see Devon’s story. She’s at a party, on a Wednesday. I flip onto my back. How do these people live like this?

  Oh, right. No jobs.

  She’s doing a shot of something and standing by a few familiar Table Three faces. I check out a few other stories, and then I see Alex’s. My finger hovers over his icon as I try to decide if this is a good idea or not.

  I do it anyway. I don’t care if it’s a good idea. What’s the worst that can happen?

  The second I click on his story, I know the answer to that. The worst that could happen is happening right now. There’s a picture of him, surrounded by people, grinning wildly with a beer can in one hand and an arm around Devon McGill. Behind him is the sofa in their family room.

  I think I’m going to be sick.

  I throw my phone to the end of my bed, disgusted. I was actually starting to feel sorry? For him? Clearly, he doesn’t feel the same about what happened. God!

  I kick my feet under my covers and let out a scream. I hope he has a marvelous time, the jerk, and then I hope he gets the hangover from hell.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Alex

  The more I drink, the more I realize that this party is exactly what I needed.

  The house is full of people I know and a lot I don’t know, and I should probably be making sure that no one is upstairs going through my mom’s jewelry, but I don’t because the best part of being Alex Koviak is this:

  Nothing fazes me.

  I keep it all casual. I don’t take anything too seriously.

  I say “Dude!” as often as I want. Just ask my friend Bailey Banfield. Ex-friend, I guess should say. So what? It’s all good!

  “Yo,” I shout to some guy over by the beer cooler. I don’t recognize him, but it doesn’t matter. “Right here, man!” I hold up my hands, ready to catch a can, but he frowns and curls his lip at me.

  “Dude, I don’t know you. Get your own beer.”

  “Hey! It’s my house!” That’s what I intend to say, but it comes out all slurred.

  I make my way to the kitchen, ready to fight him, but by the time I get there, the guy is gone and I’m not even sure I remember what his face looks like. Damn, I’m drunk.

  “Kov?” Someone, a female, slides an arm through mine. I don’t know who it is.

  “Hey…” I laugh and sit down at the kitchen table. It feels good to sit. Slows the spinning room down a little.

  “Hey.” Her voice is soft, forcing me to move closer. “You want to go upstairs?” />
  I look up, but she’s too close and I can’t focus.

  The word “okay” starts to form in my mouth, because why not, it’s a party, right? I’m young and supposed to be having fun. The Love Guru deserves to have fun. The mystery girl says something in my ear, but she’s too close and it tickles. I pull away from her, and my eyes land on the surface of the table.

  What is that?

  I seriously can’t focus, which might freak me out if I wasn’t wasted, but something is on the table and I want to know what it is. I pull out of this person’s grip and push my finger down on the thing that’s caught my attention. What is it? I lift my finger again, and whatever-it-is is stuck to it. I hold it close to my eyes. It’s tiny, square, and my inebriated brain is having a hard time putting a name to this thing.

  Oh! That’s right.

  It’s glitter. A single square of shiny, red glitter.

  “Huh,” I say to no one.

  I will never be able to avoid Bailey Banfield. She’ll always be here, in my house, here in my head. My heart thumps hard in my chest. Yeah, in there, too. Like glitter, she’s everywhere. There’s literally no getting rid of her.

  “Alex?”

  Oh, it’s Devon.

  “What is that?” she asks.

  “Dev, I gotta go.” I stand up, unsteady as hell, holding on to that single piece of glitter. Damn. There are a hundred people in the kitchen, three people standing on the coffee table in the family room.

  Somewhere, deep in the inner core of my brain, I know this party is going to be the end of me. Somewhere in there, I hear Miriam tearing me a new asshole, going on about how hard she works to keep this house “just so” and how I don’t give a damn about all her hard work. Somewhere I can hear the distant echoes of Dad from a foreign country, telling me how disrespectful I am, how I don’t care about anyone but myself.

  I do care, Dad. I care about someone a lot. I just can’t do anything about it.

  I push my way through the house. I hear my name being called. I feel people smacking my shoulders. The room is hazy, but I can see the stair rail ahead. I set a target for it. On the way, I glance up at the chandelier that I imagine scoffing at me.

  You’re drunk, kid, and you’re letting this place get trashed. You remind me of your great-great uncle what-was-his-name. Oh yeah, I can’t remember because he was Such a Loser.

  I stumble up the stairs, past a few people in the halls, and toward my room. But before I get there, I notice the doors to the Blue Room standing wide open. I somehow make my legs work faster, and when I go in, I see that the closet door is open, too. I run, or at least I think I’m running, I’m not 100 percent on that, and I yell. I think. I’m not exactly sure it’s working. I can’t hear my voice over the roar in my head. I see a girl, I don’t know her, holding up Bailey’s dress.

  I don’t know what comes out of my mouth, but the girl drops the dress, and runs out past me. Everyone runs out. I think they’re screaming. Or maybe they’re laughing at me. I don’t know, but I chase everyone out of there. No one should be in here, in the place where I danced with Bailey. No one should touch her dress.

  I close the doors, leaving Granny Helen’s room in peace. Up and down the long hall, there are people going in and out of my parents’ room and my dad’s office. Which reminds me—this night will not end well. So what do I do? I ignore them and go to my room. It’s all my pickled self can come up with. I have to chase out a few of my teammates who are sitting on my bed playing the Xbox. They look amused and leave without an argument. They’re laughing at me too, I guess.

  “Closhe the door,” I think I say as I flop backward onto my mattress. The ceiling is turning in slow circles, though, so I heave my body onto my side and close my eyes.

  The world is still wobbly, but I don’t care. I’m drowning in an ocean of bad beer mixed with bourbon. I’m alone and thinking her name or screaming her name or whispering her name. I can’t tell. It doesn’t matter. The point is, Bailey is there, floating on the edge of my mind, at the edge of my life, just out of reach.

  “Kov? Kov?” Someone is pushing my shoulder, and I have no idea where I am.

  I come to, blinking my eyes in the bright overhead light. “What? What is it?”

  “It’s me, you idiot.” Eli says this as though I don’t know it’s him.

  “Why are you here?”

  “To save your ass,” he says. “I called my dad. Everyone’s gone.”

  “What?” I shoot upright. Oh shit, instant regret. I fall back down and cradle my head, which feels like a cracked melon. “No cops, man!” I hiss at my friend, or the dude who is supposed to be my friend but called his police chief dad on me.

  “Relax. He was off duty. Brought the cruiser to get everyone out fast.” He shakes his head. “What were you thinking? On a Wednesday?”

  I squeeze my head, hard. “How bad is it?”

  “Your house is trashed, man. Half those people I’ve never even seen. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  I move my hands and open one eye, barely. “Shit.”

  “Yeah, you should probably empty your savings account and run away now. Seriously, get out.”

  “Dammit.” I moan. “Miriam’s gonna kill me.”

  “Oh, she already came and left. Said you’re on your own, said she was gonna quit.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Why’d you do it, man?” he asks.

  My head is throbbing, and my entire body hurts. “Because, E, everything is shit. This week has been bad—really bad, and then we lost and that was it.”

  He pulls up my desk chair and sits down, leaning his crutches on the dresser. “You know something?”

  “What?” I mumble.

  “I have a theory about you.”

  “What, you date a nerd and you think you can come up with theories now?”

  Eli nods. “Yeah. I do. So. The cow girl. You wanna tell me about her?”

  I wince. “Don’t. Call her that.”

  “All right. Bailey. Spill it.” He leans back and puts his bum leg up on my nightstand, like he’s settling in for story time.

  “No.” I squint at him. “How do you know?”

  “I watched the video. I’ve never seen you act so nuts.” He laughs. “Man, I’ve never seen anyone act so nuts. And then your face when she’s walking away? You looked like you were gonna cry.”

  I lift my hand and stick out my favorite finger. “No, I didn’t.” I sound defensive, but then I remember that he’s right. Watching her walk away and not knowing what to do tore me up. I was a wreck. A total wreck.

  “How do you even know her?” he asks.

  I rub my eyes. I’m still a little drunk, and my head feels like it’s going to explode. “We met in the express lane at Publix.”

  I reach for my pillow, punch it, and cover my eyes. How do I still remember that day so clearly? Gray eyes. Dark, shiny hair. Ugly-ass green vest. The best smile. “We started hanging out, friends only.” I don’t know why I’m telling him all this, but I don’t stop. “I mean, at first, I thought, yeah, she’s hot, but then it was good, and I didn’t want to ruin it. She’s not like anyone I’ve met before.”

  “Holy shit!” he says.

  I move the pillow. “What?”

  He leans back in the chair and claps three times. “You’re in love!”

  I try to shake my head, but it hurts. “No. Nope. We’re legit just friends. We were, anyway. Then I had this crazy idea to ask her to prom, and the same day, she asked me to help her prompose to Tex and…” I cover my eyes again. Way too bright in here. “And I said sure, because that’s what idiot friends do. I helped her plan it, set the whole thing up, and then I ruined everything. Totally. Completely. And on purpose.” I lift the pillow. “I didn’t want her to go to prom with him. I didn’t want it. Didn’t think about what she wanted. So I wrecked it, and now she hates me, which she should, because I’m a selfish son of a bitch.”

  I groan.

  Eli laughs.


  “What?”

  “It’s funny to see the Love Guru squirm like this.”

  My stomach rolls. I know there’s truth to what he’s saying, but it doesn’t matter now. “Glad I can entertain you. I’m not a guru of anything. I’m full of shit.”

  “No, you aren’t. You just need to take your own advice.”

  I listen, waiting for him to throw my words back in my face. “What are you talking about?”

  He pauses. “What you told me when I was being a complete moron, scared to ask Nora out? Remember what you said?”

  I pull a pillow over my head. “Shut the fuck up?”

  “No. That’s not it. You said that when the clock runs out, that’s it. You miss your chance and sometimes you don’t get another one.”

  Shoulda known that gem would come back to haunt me. “Not applicable in this situation. You and Nora were mad hot for each other; anyone could see that except for the two of you. It was mutual. Bails doesn’t give a shit about me.”

  “Come on, Koviak. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I have no idea how she feels about you since all this went down, but these last few months, you’ve changed. For the better, too. And if that was her having that effect on you, maybe you need to try. Ask her to the prom. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Uh. Worst thing that could happen is that she could say no. And she probably will. She wants to go with Caleb. She likes Caleb. And Caleb told me he was gonna ask her. Dude hates me, too.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Yeah.” I say. She originally said she wanted to do the promposal for her film. She said Caleb was handsome, available, and she said she thought he was a good guy, because I said he was a good guy. She said she wanted a boyfriend, but it’s not like she was in love with him.

  If anything, my asshole behavior has pushed them together.