He freed his hand and used both arms to lift her down. But instead of placing her on the ground, he held her close and whispered in her ear.
Merri twined her fingers around his neck and kissed him for three long seconds before hopping back on the bench.
I’m sure she was going to shout his obvious answer, but Fielding didn’t need a pint-size spokesperson. Shocking probably everyone in the hall, he joined her on the bench. He cleared his throat and, straightening his tie, stated, “Of course I’ve said yes.”
The room exploded with whoops and applause and good-natured ribbing. Over it all was the sound of Headmaster Williams tapping his microphone. “Fielding, Merrilee, if you’re done with your antics, I’d like to begin.”
Merri nodded. And curtsied. Then hopped down into Fielding’s arms. His ears were red and his posture stiff, but these were the only indications of how massively far outside his comfort zone he’d just leaped. He kept an arm around Merri, looking down at her like she was the most precious person in the room. And to him, she was.
I hadn’t looked at Toby. I wanted a merit badge for that. Because I’d wanted to see if he was okay or measure how much this had hurt him. But, no. He had to handle his feelings. I had my hands full with my own.
Walking with Toby across campus to his car, even with neither of us talking, felt like the best noise-canceling earphones. It not only muted my awareness of the rest of the world—everything beyond the sidewalk and the guy beside me—but also cranked down the volume on my brain. It hit pause on all the worries and insecurities and racing thoughts that constantly shouted for my attention, and the million other nameless anxieties that were lining up and waiting to announce themselves. Because Toby didn’t make me nervous. My feelings about my feelings for him were obnoxious, but when I didn’t focus on them, I enjoyed being with him. We’d been friends since before I knew what a crush was; I hoped we’d be friends long after I got over my infatuation. I could do this.
“We should go to that,” Toby said, interrupting my contented musings. I blinked and followed his finger to a flyer on a lamppost. It was one I knew well, having watched Clara pose in front of a larger version in the hall before math and having drawn the illustration myself. “I’m dateless. If you are too, we might as well.”
My feet stopped. Like the poster needed closer inspection. It didn’t. I could re-create the falling leaves that gathered into a ball gown in ten minutes. But my feelings did. I should have felt elated—Toby asked me to a dance—but I couldn’t manage an exclamation point on that thought.
“No,” I said, my stomach twisting in knots. “Thanks, but no.”
“Do you have a date?” he asked. “I should’ve—”
“Nope.” I started walking because he was looking at me a little too closely and the corners of my eyes were starting to itch. Stupid boy. Didn’t he know I had a million daydreams about a moment like this? He was ruining them all.
“Hey!” He caught up and stopped on the path in front of me. “Roar, why not?”
“Because—” was all I managed before my voice wavered. “I deserve to be asked on more than a whim. I want better than We might as well go together—like someone who wants to go with me and made me their first choice.”
“Rory. Roar, I—” He shifted his weight on and off that stupid knee brace and opened and closed his mouth.
“It’s fine,” I said. It wasn’t, but I wasn’t either and I couldn’t stand here and listen to him backtrack or offer words in ways that didn’t mean what I wanted them to. Because I’d never be his first choice, the girl he was nervous about asking. I was done being might as well. “But I’m going to walk home.”
“You don’t have to. Let me drive you.”
“It’s stopped raining. I’m good.”
“Please don’t be mad, I didn’t—”
“I don’t want to be around you right now,” I snapped.
His mouth shut and he took a step back. I’d never yelled at him. Merri did all the time, but I was the smoother-over, the peacemaker. Maybe I’d lob a snarky comment occasionally, but never with the heat I’d injected into each of those words. I adjusted the strap of my bag and tried to remember if there were tissues in the pockets. Tried to guess how far I could get without breaking.
He didn’t stop me, but he did meet my eyes and say, “I’m sorry,” before stepping out of my way.
I was tempted to call Huck or Clara or even Lilly. Let anyone’s voice crowd out my thoughts so I wouldn’t have to be alone with them. We’d finished Gatsby today, and now this felt finished too.
At least I’d let go of my green light without the whole murder thing. Jay Gatsby should’ve learned some limits.
I’d reached mine.
25
I’d barely made it off campus before Toby pulled up beside me and lowered his window. “Roar, can we talk?” I stopped walking and he continued. “I get it . . . I mean, I don’t get it completely, but I get that I hurt your feelings and I’m sorry.”
“I know.” I wasn’t quite sure if his explanation made things better or worse.
He put on his hazard lights, then leaned forward and rested his head between his hands on the steering wheel. “I’m messing everything up lately—Merri’s barely talking to me and I hurt you. I never meant to do that, Roar.”
But he had. And I was done. It didn’t matter what my heart felt watching his agonized face. I’d decided. And I was stubborn; once I made my mind up, I didn’t quit. Just ask ice cream. I may have cheated sometimes, but I didn’t quit. I couldn’t tell him all that, so I did the next best thing. I walked around his car and got in.
Toby’s face went soft with relief for the space of an exhale, before he tipped his head back against the seat and asked the ceiling, “What’s going on lately? Everything’s changing.”
“It’s called growing up,” I teased. The last time I’d seen him sit in that posture, with the same I won’t cry expression, he’d been seven, I’d been five. We were on his back patio and Major May had cooked us dinner. Toby had been forbidden from leaving his chair until he cleared his plate. But there was a green obstacle in the way—Toby’s personal nemesis: broccoli. He thought he’d have to live in that chair from then on out: “Will you bring a blanket when it’s winter, Roar?”
I’d done one better. I’d eaten his broccoli when Major May went to get matches for the citronella candles. Toby had caught me lightning bugs as thanks.
“I don’t want to lose you.” His eyes were as wide and vulnerable as they’d been when he’d talked about his dad at Mockingburger. “Am I going to?”
“You couldn’t if you tried—don’t you remember what a good tagalong I am? Merri says I’m like burrs on a dog’s coat.”
“Thank God for that.” Toby gave me a half smile and a half hug, leaning over the console to put an arm around my shoulder and rest his cheek on top of my head. He might have been thinking about me, or the people he’d lost lately: his dad, my sister, his team . . . Either way, I stiffened and pulled away. There were limits to what I could handle while forcing my heart to play this friendship game.
“Want to do something? Let’s go somewhere. A movie. Mockingburger—it was good, let’s go back. We can dig out old costumes and trick or treat, or you can keep me company while I hand out candy—I promise you don’t have to answer the door.”
I shook my head, then reached over and unpressed the hazard button. “You can drop me at the store. I have to work tonight.”
My shift started with me working beside my parents. Mom asked about my day and hummed as she flipped through the unsold Howl-ween costumes. “These’ll get marked down tomorrow. Might as well pick one for Byron. What do you think, pirate or pumpkin?”
I’d learned long ago that the correct answer was not “Neither,” plus there was the strange fact that both Byron and Gatsby liked wearing clothes. Well, Byron did. Gatsby liked it for a few minutes until he decided to eat them. I glanced at Byron, who was currently sleeping on a bed
Dad had strategically positioned in sunlight. “The lobster.”
“Good call! I think I have one in his size out back.” She hurried off to check, sliding her feet into the loafers she’d taken off while crouching beside the display.
During slow times, Dad quizzed me on French. His accent was dismal, but he made up for it in enthusiasm. “Jay nest says pass.” He pointed at me and started a timer on his phone. “You know this one! I bet it’s the first thing every French student learns.”
“Can you spell it?”
He looked disappointed that my tip to not pronounce the last sound on every word still hadn’t made him fluent. “Here—” He held up the card to show me my scrawl.
“Je ne sais pas,” I said with a laugh. “I don’t know.”
“But you did know,” he joked. “And I knew you would.”
Dad’s jokes were the best—in small doses. And I was more than ready when Lilly arrived and he handed over flash card duties. Cheeks were kissed and “See you at homes” exchanged. The bell over the door chimed with my parents’ exit and Lilly shoved the cards aside and pulled out dinner.
Technically, we were supposed to take turns and eat in the backroom, but I refused to be the only staff on the floor. “Black bean soup—dairy-free, I checked—baked potato topped with salsa, and a side of green beans sautéed in olive oil and garlic. Did I do okay?”
“Perfect,” I said, and she beamed. “Thank you.” It’d been two years since I’d gone down my plant-based nutrition path, but Lilly had been at college—and going through her own food issues. No one ever told me directly, but I’d overheard her and Merri and my parents talking about “disordered eating” and “treatment.” Not that I’d been oblivious—all my sketches from that time captured her hollow face, dull hair, cracked nails, patchy skin.
I scanned her now: rosy, round, beautiful, healthy. But underneath her perfect makeup, I’d bet her eyes and nose were as red as mine. Last night after Merri’s epic crying session, I’d heard Lilly pacing her room until one o’clock in the morning. She’d been on the phone with Trent, and I couldn’t tell what they were talking about, but her voice was pitched high and her footsteps fast.
I was about to ask—for an update on the wedding, if she was okay, if I could help—but before I could find the right words, Merri bounced in. “Sorry I’m late, cross-country ran long—I got lost. I got my whole running group lost. This is what happens when Eliza goes for her driving test and leaves me behind.” Merri took a sip of whatever was in Lillian’s to-go cup, then frowned. “Gah, that needs sugar. Then I stopped at the senator’s office to pick up more buttons to bring to school. It’s too bad three-fourths of the Hero High population isn’t old enough to vote. She’s way more popular on campus than Mr. Stratford.” Merri grimaced like the taste of her ex-boyfriend’s father’s name was bitter—though that could’ve been the second sip of Lilly’s coffee she’d tried to choke down. “I bet you can’t wait until the election is over. Senator Rhodes looked stressed. Oh, and she said to say hi to her favorite future daughter-in-law.”
Trent was an only child and Lilly was her only future daughter-in-law, but I didn’t point that out because the lines on Lilly’s face looked more pronounced. I yanked the coffee out of Merri’s hand and gave it back to Lilly.
“Only one week and the election will be over. Then no more talk of polling numbers and canvassing.” She sipped from the cup I’d put in her hands. “Six. More. Days.”
“Then it’ll be all wedding, all the time!” Merri whooped. Lilly gulped until the cup was empty.
I picked up my flash cards, because I didn’t want to see the clash between Merri’s excitement and Lilly’s stress. I made it through a dozen before Merri got around to describing her Convocation adventures. I knew it was coming. She was squirming with impatience like an un-housebroken puppy, and finally she climbed on the counter and swung her legs as she announced, “So, I have news.”
Which was my cue to leave. Anything Fall Ball related made me want to dive headfirst into a box of tissues. After last night, my nose couldn’t handle another cry fest—not unless I wanted to be Rudolph for Halloween.
I stacked the cards and dug out an elastic band from the drawer below the register. There were plenty of things I could do—check inventory, neaten displays, sweep, decorate. Anything that had me not here, hearing “And then I climbed right up on the bench—they’re a lot higher than they look. And Fielding, he told me later—”
We were almost out of the small size of Indestructibones. It’d be irresponsible for me to stay and chat instead of saving customers’ couches and shoes from teething puppies.
“Headmaster Williams is starting to like me. Rory—” Merri called, and I froze at the stockroom door.
“Yes?” Maybe she wanted me to fetch her a cream soda. I crossed my fingers.
“Did you notice Headmaster Williams didn’t interrupt until after Fielding answered? And he came up to us after Convocation and invited me to dinner this weekend. That’s got to be progress.”
Lilly squeezed her arm. “It sounds promising. Want me to make a manicure appointment for us?” Merri nodded and Lilly grabbed a coupon from the stack on the counter and jotted down Nails with M.
I waited for my name to be added. I mean, sure I complained about the smell and the sitting, and I’d end up chipping them in art, but they’d at least ask, right? Instead, Lilly folded the note and stuck it in her planner and Merri bounced and added, “His dad asked what I’m allergic to.”
“Maybe so he could cook it,” I suggested, because Headmaster Williams reminded me of the Grinch. His shoes and heart were definitely too small and his smile looked rancid.
Lilly shot me a Not helpful grimace.
“Well, it’s good I’m not allergic to anything then!” chirped Merri. “Imagine if I were you with all your won’t-eats.”
“Yeah, imagine.” I dropped all pretense of socializing and wandered over to the comfy chair by the front window. Digging out the sketch pad I kept in the drawer beneath, I began to draw the Dalmatian that was scampering after his owner as she examined different bags of dog food. He was actually pretty cute. The mom was holding her dino-suited toddler by one hand and had the dog’s leash looped around the other. Each time she bent over to read the ingredients on a bag, the two of them would meet behind her back for kisses and giggles. It was probably just the dog cleaning off whatever Halloween candy was smeared on the boy’s face—but still. Cute.
The sketch turned out well enough that when she’d picked her bag and dragged it to the register, I ripped off the page and carried it over too. Stammering and red-faced, I said, “Here,” and retreated as soon as her fingers had closed around the paper.
I was halfway across the store before she’d turned it over. “Wait! You drew this?”
I froze. “I hope that’s okay?” Dangit, was it a childhood privacy thing? Was I supposed to ask permission first? Had I offended her?
She stared at me and I curled my toes in my shoes. Finally, she blinked. “This is amazing. I can’t believe you did this.” She shoved the receipt Merri held out into her wallet, then thumbed open the billfold. “How much do I owe you? This is the perfect Christmas present for my husband.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—” I took a step backward, stumbling over air and knocking down half a rack of leashes.
“Yes, she could,” interjected Merri. “Pay whatever you think is fair. And thank you.”
“No, thank you,” the woman said to Merri and again to me on her way out. “How often are you here? I’m going to tell all my friends to come by.”
“Um, usually Wednesday nights and sometimes on the weekend.” I was kicking past-me for my stupidity. Couldn’t have turned to a blank page. Nope, had to be an idiot and do the nice thing, and now I was getting the well-intentioned third degree and Dalmatian fur and sticky handprints on my pants, since the toddler latched on to one leg as the dog rubbed against the other. Hello, claustrophobia in the middle of an open-f
loor plan.
“And what’s your name?” She held the drawing out to me. “Can I get you to sign this?”
“Aurora Campbell,” I mumbled and scrawled, before handing the paper back and disentangling myself from pudgy hands and leashes. “Have a good night.”
Merri handed me the cash but I didn’t count it. I shoved it in the register the next time I checked someone out. She’d gone to bat for me even though I’d been too busy pouting to compliment her Convocation spectacle. So what if it wasn’t something I’d do? No one asked me to.
Mom always said, “Spitting in someone else’s tea doesn’t make yours taste any better.” The same was true for cashew cheese and meatless hot dogs. Well, maybe not the hot dogs—there really wasn’t anything that could salvage those.
But, whatever, Merri was happy. She and Fielding were happy. It wasn’t her fault I’d held on to this crush, or her fault Toby didn’t return it. I’d meant it when I told Merri I’d put some effort into fixing our relationship.
I cleared my throat and called her name. Then hated myself for how quickly she dropped her broom and scampered over. “Hey, what’s up? What are you drawing now?”
“Um, nothing really.”
“You should draw the bed display, then add in the next dog that comes in the store.”
“Yeah, um, sure.” I added a bed. “Sorry if I was a jerk about Headmaster Williams. I’m sure he’s warming up to you. I mean, everyone does. And congrats on Fall Ball. Do you know what you’re going to wear?”
“Thanks!” Merri did a graceless pirouette. “Wear to Fall Ball? Or dinner at the Williamses’?”
“Um, either?”
“Not a clue. But will you do my makeup?”
“Sure,” I said. “And someone once recommended paisley and sparkles—maybe start there.”
She laughed and Lilly joined in. I basked in the moment, fiercely proud of the sound of those giggles echoing off the floor, windows, and rafters and deeply aware that these moments were fleeting—this time next year, Lilly would be married and off to law school. Two years after, Merri would be at college. While we had them, I wanted to hold on tight.
The Boy Next Story Page 15
