What If

by Rebecca Donovan

  The clock reads after ten in the morning. I really want to go back to sleep, but I have a paper to write--and a hangover to conquer. Not necessarily in that order.

  I throw on my flannel shirt and find my way out of the fraternity house. I have to walk a few blocks back to where I parked my truck for the Halloween party last night. Taking a sobering breath of the cold, crisp air, I start the truck. The freezing vinyl seeping through my jeans and the chill in the air does little to clear my head. I need coffee.

  *

  I'm in desperate need of caffeine to kick my ass as I wait in line at Bean Buzz. Especially today. I lived up to the role of "the drunk college guy" last night. I don't do it often. But it was such a messed-up night.

  I thank Mel behind the register as she hands me my cup. I'm half convinced I'm sleepwalking as I head toward the door, my eyes barely open. I focus on the light coming from the exit and concentrate on moving my body in that direction.

  "Cal?"

  I stretch my eyes wide and inhale deeply through my nose in attempt to focus. Carly is standing in front of me. How did she know I'd be here? I never brought her here. I never bring any girls here. I picked the most inconvenient coffee shop off campus so I could avoid accidentally running into them.

  "Carly, what are you doing here?" I ask, too surprised to be filtered.

  "Uh, getting coffee," she answers, holding up the cup.

  "Right," I say with a slight nod, feeling like an ass.

  "Do you have a second? I was hoping we could talk."

  "Uh..." I hesitate. Right now just standing is a challenge, forget about talking.

  "It'll be quick. I promise."

  "Okay." I reluctantly follow her to a table that opens up in front of the large picture window. I have no idea what I'm walking into. I'm assuming she wants to apologize for how she ended things last night.

  "I think I made a mistake," she says as I lower myself onto the chair. "I shouldn't have broken up with you."

  I definitely didn't see this coming.

  My stunned silence encourages her to continue. "I guess I freaked because I'm starting to have feelings for you. But after you left the party last night, I realized how many douche-wads there are on campus. You're not like them. I screwed up, and I want to give us another chance."

  Shit. I am not coherent enough for this. So I stall and take a slow sip of my coffee, looking everywhere but at the girl sitting across from me waiting for an answer. That's when I see those same damn blue eyes from last night, staring at me from the leather sofa on the far side of the cafe--without the mask.

  "Cal?" Carly calls to me.

  "No way," I murmur, transfixed.

  "What?" Carly questions, a hint of panic in her voice. "No?"

  "Sorry." I recover quickly, reluctantly looking away. "Um, I thought I saw... Never mind." I shake my head and try to focus. She gave me an out last night. So I'm taking it. It's not like it would've lasted much longer anyway, especially if she wanted more from me.

  I take a quick breath and say, "Yeah, no. I can't get back together with you."

  "Uh... what?" Carly's eyes narrow. "Why?"

  "Sorry, Carly. I just can't." I stand and walk away before I can see her reaction. I really should keep walking out the door. But I don't. Instead, I cross the cafe to the brown leather sofa where the unmasked girl from last night is reading with her feet propped up on the coffee table.

  Then I just stand there and stare at her. She doesn't notice me, and that's probably a good thing because I know I look like a creep hovering above her. I have no idea what to say because I'm standing in front of Nicole Bentley. But this girl looks... different. She doesn't look exactly like the girl who moved into my neighborhood fifteen years ago. So maybe she's not her. It doesn't make sense for her to be here. Except... those are her eyes.

  "Nicole?"

  She doesn't look up. I'm about to call to her again when someone brushes against my arm.

  "Here you go, Nyelle," Tess says, reaching over the coffee table to hand Nicole a mug. "Hot chocolate with two pumps of mocha and whipped cream. How can you drink that much sugar in the morning? It makes my stomach hurt just thinking about it." Then Tess looks up at me and smiles brightly. "Hey, Cal."

  "Uh, hi," I reply, completely confused. I glance from Tess to Nicole and back again. "Um, you're Nyelle?" Maybe I'm still drunk.

  Nicole smiles gently. "Yeah. Nyelle Preston." She reaches out her hand. "Sorry I was a bitch to you last night." She's looking right at me, waiting for me to take her hand, which is covered by a knit glove with the fingers cut off. There isn't a single hint of recognition on her face. "I was a little drunk and wasn't having the best night."

  "Yeah, uh, no problem," I say slowly, reaching over and taking her thin hand in mine. "Nice to meet you." I'm convinced I'm either sleeping, drunk, or in some fucked-up episode of The Twilight Zone. I swear I'm staring at the face of Nicole Bentley, the girl I spent way too many hours of my life thinking about. But she's looking at me like she has no idea who I am. It's freaking me out.

  "I'm sorry, but don't I know--"

  "You're such a fucker! You should have told me there was someone else. I can't believe I begged you to take me back!"

  I turn just as Carly thrusts her coffee cup in my direction. I bow away, but it's too late. My body clenches in pain as the hot liquid collides with my chest. Stunned, I watch Carly's blond curls bounce out the door.

  Sucking in through clenched teeth, I pull the soaked T-shirt away from my skin.

  "Omigod," Tess gasps. She grabs napkins from the coffee table and begins to frantically blot my shirt. "Why would she do that? Are you okay?"

  Mel appears in front of me and hands me a fistful of napkins. "Do you need anything?"

  "My dignity," I mutter. Nicole laughs. I'm suddenly wishing I was still passed out on Eric's couch. "I look like an idiot, don't I?"

  Nicole smiles. "Well... kinda. But she looked like a psycho. So she wins."

  Just shoot me already.

  "Oh, Cal, I can't believe she did that. Who was she?"

  "An ex," I grumble, taking the napkins from Tess. "Thanks for your help. But I'm going to go." I can feel every pair of eyes on me, including the ones that kept me from taking that exit I should've made earlier. "I'll see you later."

  I dump the napkins in the trash before I walk out the door. I look over my shoulder to find the girl who looks like Nicole Bentley still watching me.

  NICOLE

  June--Before Fourth Grade

  I watch the houses go by out the window, wondering when we're going to stop and which one will be ours. I'm nervous. I'm not going to know anyone. What if they don't like me?

  I flatten the skirt of my yellow dress, trying not to think about it. Mom says that they'll like me, so I have to believe her because I really want them to. I had two friends in our old town. Our moms would visit each other, so it was easy to be friends. They liked to play with dolls and make believe like I do. They were my friends at school too.

  "Well, here we are," my daddy announces, turning onto the street. I see the big moving truck in front of a sunshine-yellow house. It matches my dress, which makes me smile.

  "Who's that?" my mom asks, watching a girl with brown hair run toward the car.

  "She probably lives next door," my daddy says. She has on blue polka dot shorts and a white T-shirt. Her hair is in a ponytail that swings behind her head as she hurries toward us.

  "She's very... forward, isn't she?" my mother says, opening the car door. The girl is standing by the car, breathing fast like she just ran a race. I can't take my eyes off of her. I slowly unbuckle my seat belt and open the door.

  "Hi. I'm Richelle. I live next door in the blue house," she announces without the tiniest bit of fear. My mouth pops open because she may be the bravest girl I've ever seen.

  "Hi, Richelle. I'm Mrs. Bentley." My mother reaches back to urge me forward. I take a slow step and grab my mom's hand, standing close beside her. "And this is
my daughter, Nicole."

  "Hi," Richelle says to me with a wave. Her eyes are big and brown, and she smiles like she's excited to see me. "Do you want to play?"

  I look up at my mom, not sure what to do. I wasn't ready for this. I know just a few minutes ago I was scared that I wouldn't make friends. But now I'm not sure I'm ready to leave my parents.

  "That's very nice of you, Richelle," my mom says, "but we have a lot of unpacking to do. Maybe tomorrow would be better. You're welcome to come by then."

  Richelle switches her eyes from me to my mom. She's still waiting for me to answer, but I never say a word.

  "Okay," she finally says. "Bye, Nicole. See you tomorrow!"

  Just as I turn toward the house, I notice a boy and a girl across the street on the sidewalk, watching the whole thing. The boy has brown hair and is wearing black glasses. And the girl has blond hair that's in a messy braid. She narrows her eyes at me like she's trying to decide what kind of animal I am or something. I turn away quickly and walk with my mom into the house, not letting go of her hand until we're safely inside.

  Chapter Two

  "Wha--tha--no..." Rae is laughing so hard she can't form a single word. I yank my shirt over my head and wait impatiently for her to calm down.

  "Rae, focus," I demand, examining the red blotches on my chest.

  "You really picked a good one this time," Rae says, still laughing. "God. I wish I could've seen that."

  "Great," I grumble. "But that's not the point. Nicole Bentley is here, at Crenshaw."

  "And now I think you're delusional," she says, slowly sobering from her fit of laughter. "Nicole got into Harvard. Unless she flunked out, which we know she'd never do, she wouldn't choose Crenshaw... ever. It's in the middle-of-nowhere upstate New York. There's no way she'd be there."

  "Then she was separated at birth from her identical twin, because I swear to you, I saw her. Besides, do we know she's really at Harvard? No one's seen or heard from her since graduation."

  "I know she got in. I saw her acceptance letter, along with everyone in the entire school. She wouldn't shut up about it." She sighs heavily. "It can't be Nicole. And I'll tell you the same thing when I come visit you next month. I think you've convinced yourself that this girl, who looks kinda like Nicole, is her. And it better not snow this time. I can't deal with the snow."

  "Fine. You'll see when you get here." I realize there's no use in trying to convince her.

  "Cal, did you even ask her if she's Nicole?" Rae asks.

  "Uh... I tried," I reply slowly. "We were interrupted by the coffee, remember?"

  This sets Rae off in hysterics again. I hang up on her.

  I toss the phone on my bed and walk into the bathroom to dig around in the cabinet for a tube of ointment that claims to be for burns. I have no idea how old it is since it was here before we moved in, but I'm hoping it'll help. I gently dab the clear gel on my tender skin.

  Returning to my room, I sit on the edge of my bed and run my hands over my face, trying to picture the girl in the coffee shop again. There's definitely something different about her. Her face looks like Nicole, but... not. Nicole Bentley was always flawlessly put together, like she'd just stepped out of a magazine. The girl calling herself Nyelle doesn't seem to care what she looks like, wearing her brown hair wavy, like she's just stepped out of a shower and let it do whatever it wanted--a sexy mess. Nicole is a perfectly wrapped present tied in a nice neat bow. And Nyelle is wrapping paper strewn across the floor on Christmas morning.

  Maybe Nyelle isn't Nicole. I try to compare them again, putting them side by side in my head. But it's hard, because I haven't seen Nicole since graduation. I still can't remember what happened that night. I was drunk... Okay, I was wasted. But I know I heard her screaming at her parents inside their house.

  "You can't make it go away by pretending nothing happened. Because then you might as well erase me too, Daddy."

  What the hell happened that night? And what would've happened if I hadn't walked away?

  *

  I don't see Nicole--or Nyelle, or whoever she is--the next day. Or the day after. But I do have a couple of close calls with Carly at Bean Buzz. As I pull up to the coffee shop on Wednesday morning, I wonder if I'm pushing my luck. She's left a couple ranting voice mails on my phone. I deleted them after listening to the first ten seconds. She's crazy. And I don't do crazy. The girls I usually date are the nice girls. The kind guys take home to meet their mothers. Except I don't stay with them long enough for it to get that serious.

  Just as I approach the large picture window with Bean Buzz arched across it in large white font, I notice Carly's curly blond hair inside. I slam my back up against the building, hoping she didn't see me. I do not want to deal with an overly emotional girl this morning.

  I tentatively look back up. Carly's staring out the glass. I quickly press my head back against the brick. "Shit."

  I remain flattened against the building, trying to decide my next move. There's always a chance she's not waiting for me. I glance up as she cups her hands on the glass, scouring the sidewalk. Yeah, I doubt it.

  "Who are we hiding from?"

  I turn with a start.

  Nicole is leaning against the chipped brick, with a dark brown knit cap pulled low on her brow. Her hair is sticking out from under it, flowing over the shoulders of a thick navy blue sweater. Her nose is red from the cold, and clouds of air pass through her lips as she grins up at me. Despite the differences, I still see Nicole looking back at me.

  "Is Psycho looking for you or something?"

  "Uh, it appears that way," I fumble, looking away when I feel like I've been staring at her too long. "I guess she's still pretty pissed."

  She peeks up and laughs when she finds Carly posted in front of the window. "What did you do to her?"

  "She broke up with me, and I wouldn't take her back."

  "Are you sure you didn't run over her cat too?" Nicole snickers.

  "Probably should've. I hate that cat," I mutter. She smiles bigger.

  "Dammit. I'm going to be late for class." I check the time on my phone. "Forget it. I can't keep standing out here hoping she'll leave. This is stupid. I guess I'll go without."

  "What?! That's just crazy talk," Nicole says. "If I tell the girl at the counter 'Cal's usual--'"

  "Mel," I interrupt.

  "Mel will know what that is, right?"

  I nod.

  "Okay. Wait here," she instructs. "I'll be right back."

  I don't wait in that exact spot. I mean, I feel like an idiot crushed up against the building, hiding from an ex who barely comes up to my shoulders. So I pace back and forth in the alley next to the coffee shop. I keep expecting Carly to whip around the corner. I'm being paranoid. I know this. And I'm not proud.

  I start thinking again about how much this girl looks like Nicole, except she acts nothing like her. Nicole never said a word to anyone outside of the elites when we were in high school. And Nyelle has no issue voicing her opinion. These girls are too different to be the same. Unless... something happened to Nicole. Maybe she was in an accident. Or hell, perhaps she really was separated at birth.

  "Here you go."

  I spin around quickly, startling Nic--Nyelle. Shit. Now I'm getting confused.

  "Geez, Cal. Relax. I'm unarmed." Then she looks down at the cup of coffee and laughs. "Well, sorta."

  "Thanks," I mumble. She's making fun of me. Great.

  Nyelle smirks and hands me my cup with a napkin folded on the side. "Mel asked me to give this to you," she says, before blowing on her hot chocolate.

  I unfold the napkin to read, Dignity will not be found in the alley.

  Nyelle laughs when I crumple the napkin and glare at the brick wall in offense. Thanks, Mel.

  "Did you read it?"

  "Of course," she admits without hesitation. "If I'm going to be passing a note in the alley, I want to know what it says."

  Her continued amusement isn't helping with the whole dignity t
hing.

  "I'm going to be late. Thanks for getting my coffee." I start past her, then pause. "Do you need a ride anywhere?"

  "Nope. I like to walk."

  "We're pretty far from campus."

  "I know," she replies, walking with me to my truck. As I open the door, she asks again, "Are you sure you didn't do anything to her?"

  "I swear," I answer, then add after a moment of thought, "I guess I wasn't who she wanted me to be."

  "Are we ever?"

  Nyelle smiles weakly and continues walking down the sidewalk, taking small sips from her cup without looking back. I watch until she turns the corner, with her last comment stuck in my head.

  *

  Over the past week, I've looked for Nyelle everywhere without bumping into her once. We have a pretty large campus, so it's easy enough to avoid someone. I know. I've mastered it over the past year. But if you look hard enough, you usually find the person you're searching for eventually. I've even run into Tess a couple of times, but Nyelle's never with her.

  "Not hiding in alleys anymore?" I hear beside me as I'm waiting in line for my coffee. I turn my head to find the girl I've been looking for.

  "Hey. Uh... yeah, I haven't seen her in a while, so I figured it was safe to come back inside." Carly left a voice message and a few drunken texts over the weekend, but she seems to have given up.

  I step up in line as Nyelle waits for her order at the end of the counter.

  "Good morning, Mel."

  "Cal." She greets me in her monotone voice like she does every morning. She hands me my cup with my name written on it while swiping my card.

  "Thanks," I say and walk away.

  I'm trying to come up with any excuse to talk to Nyelle, so I say the first dumb thing that comes to mind. "Haven't seen you this past week."

  "I've been... around," she answers evasively. "Hey!" She eyes the cup in my hand. "How do you have your order already?"

  "I guess because I get the same thing every morning," I answer with a shrug.

  Her order is called out and she takes the cup that's handed to her. I walk beside her toward the door, stealing glances at her like maybe I can figure her out if I look hard enough. Her dark brown hair is tossed on top of her head, sticking out of a messy bun. There isn't a trace of makeup on her. And she's wearing a sweater that's too large for her, hanging low over her hips and sliding off her shoulder, exposing the thick strap of a tank top. She's cut holes for her thumbs to stick through since the sleeves practically cover her fingers. Her jeans are faded and torn, and her brown boots are scuffed and broken in. Despite the lack of effort, she's still unmistakably gorgeous, like Nicole, without actually being anything like her. I don't get it.