What If

by Rebecca Donovan

  She turns it on. "Does it have your numbers in it?"

  "It does," I tell her. Then I reach into my back pocket, pulling out my wallet. "And here's a couple cards to add minutes to it. It comes with some, but not much."

  She takes the cards. "No offense, because this is a really thoughtful gift, but I don't plan on using it. So don't expect me to start sexting you or anything."

  I grin. "I won't. But will you keep it with you, just in case... for emergencies?"

  She nods, bowing her head.

  In a burst of unexpected enthusiasm, Nyelle's eyes light up. "Ooh, I love this song." She sets the bag and whipped cream on the side table and turns up the radio, then jumps up to stand on the bed. "Dance with me, Cal."

  "I don't dance," I tell her, holding my hands up with a shake of my head.

  "But you know how to jump." She begins to hop, jostling me on the bed.

  "Cal, jump with me!" She holds the skirt of the dress up, exposing her bare legs, and jumps higher.

  "Fine. I'll jump," I concede, standing up on the bed with her. I begin jumping up and down, but not with nearly as much vigor.

  Nyelle bounds in the air and spins, her skirt flaring around her. When the beat of the song speeds up, she lifts her dress and runs in place really fast. By the time the song ends, I'm laughing so hard my stomach hurts.

  We crash down on the bed, sprawled on our backs in an attempt to catch our breath.

  She sighs contentedly. "Thank you for today, Cal," she says, still focused on the ceiling.

  "I think we ended up showing the dress the best day of its life." I shift to look at her, taking in the infectious smile on her face. I can no longer picture her as anyone other than who she is in front of me. She exudes so much life. I can't imagine what could have made her need to start again. To me, she's always been Nyelle. And whatever happened to Nicole doesn't matter anymore. Because I'd rather have this girl here... with me.

  I stand, and she accepts the hand I offer to lift her from the bed. Her cheeks are flushed, with a few loose curls clinging to them. I brush my thumb along her jaw, freeing the strands. She looks up at me in expectation, her eyes so blue, it's impossible to look away. She runs her hands down the front of her dress nervously. And in that second she's the young girl I once knew, and I can't breathe.

  "I'm going to kiss you now," she says ever so softly.

  My pulse quickens as she extends on her toes, pressing her lips to mine. They're warm and soft, and taste like chocolate. With the gentle touch of lips, my entire body ignites. I slide a hand around her waist. My world stands still in that moment--her in my arms and her lips connected with mine. Too soon, she slips away, with her eyes still shut and her mouth shifting into a blissful smile.

  Even in its brevity, that kiss was everything. When her dark lashes finally flutter open, I still can't move.

  "That was the perfect first kiss," she says, letting out a slow breath. Then she steps back. "You should probably go before you get snowed in."

  "Right," I say, wishing for an avalanche to keep me trapped in this room with her. I slide on my jacket and she walks me to the door, opening it for me.

  "So... I guess... I'll see you," I say, anxiety flooding my stomach as I look into her eyes, trying to read what she might be thinking. She's acting so casual, like nothing just happened between us.

  "Yeah. I'll be around," she responds without committing--as always.

  Just before she closes the door, I quickly say, "Nyelle."

  She opens the door wider. "Yeah?"

  I stuff my hands in my jacket pockets nervously. "There is something you can do, you know, as your gift."

  "What's that?" she asks with an eyebrow raised assumingly.

  "Don't disappear on me."

  Nyelle stares at me for a second, her mouth opening like she's struggling with how to react. She nods once and answers quietly, "I won't."

  I exhale in relief. But right before the door closes behind me, I hear her murmur, "Not yet."

  NICOLE

  January--Sixth Grade

  "It's so nice to have you over for dinner," my mother calls to Richelle from the kitchen while we set the table in the dining room.

  Richelle places the silverware at each setting. As I set down the plates, I rearrange the forks and knives, one thumbnail from the edge of the table, like they're supposed to be. I don't correct her. It's easier to just do it myself.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Bentley," Nicole says. "It smells great."

  My mother comes in to set the trivets on the table.

  "Your father should be home soon," she tells me. "We need to be ready."

  "I know," I murmur, placing the glasses directly above the dinner knives. Eyeing the clock, anticipating the sound of his car in the driveway at any minute. "I just need to put the napkins out." I don't make eye contact with Richelle. I should have prepared her for this. I mean, I tried to... but it's not easy to describe. I just hope she doesn't say anything that will make my father upset. He won't care that she said it--it will be like it's coming out of my mouth.

  I remove the linen napkins from the drawer of the credenza and set them on each of the plates.

  "Am I going to need to remember my manners?" Richelle whispers to me, eyeing the napkins.

  "It's just my dad," is my response. "He has a thing about dinner."

  "Gotcha," Richelle replies. "Best behavior, I swear." She smiles, trying to make me relax. I can't.

  I'm grateful she gets it without me having to say anything. But she has no idea what it's really going to be like. It wasn't my idea to invite her over. It was my father's. He's never really met Richelle because I'm always at her house. I prefer that. But for some reason, after two years, he wants to know more about my best friend, other than that she lives next door.

  My mother sets the platter with the roasted chicken on the table just as we hear his car pull up in the driveway. The little relief I had has disappeared, replaced by a stone in my chest. Please let tonight go okay.

  My mother rushes to the door as it clicks open.

  "Good evening, darling," she greets him, taking his jacket and briefcase as she does every night.

  I stand in the dining room by Richelle in anticipation. I don't look at her as I wait for him to enter.

  My father is an intimidating man in his height alone. I don't think I look like him, although people say I have his eyes. I hope not. When he looks at me sometimes, I feel... cold. I don't want anyone to ever feel that way when I look at them.

  "Good evening, Daddy," I greet him, waiting for him to take his seat at the end of the table before approaching and kissing him on the cheek.

  "How are my girls?" he asks as he does every night, but there are no answers, because he doesn't really expect them. My mother and I pull out our chairs and sit. Richelle follows our lead. I keep my eyes on my father, afraid to see Richelle's reaction. I know this is nothing like her family dinners, and I'm so afraid of what she's thinking.

  My father's attention falls on Richelle. "So, you're Richelle," he says in his deep voice that I swear sounds like thunder. "It's nice to have you over for dinner."

  "Thank you," Richelle says. Her words turn my head. There isn't a hint of timidness in her voice. She sounds just like she always does--no fear. Her eyes connect with mine, and she smiles slightly, almost like she's trying to tell me everything's going to be okay.

  Richelle reaches for her fork, but my mother subtly covers her hand to stop her. Confusion appears on Richelle's face for a split second. My mother reaches out to take my hand, and I place my other in my father's large, expectant hand. I know Richelle is looking at me, or at least it feels that way, but I'm focused on my father.

  "Thank you for all you do to put the food on our table, for all the hours you work to make our lives comfortable. We are grateful for everything you do for us."

  My father lifts his head as my mother concludes and says, "You're welcome."

  I'm holding my breath. Richelle is frozen.
I want to slink under the table. I wish I could erase the stunned look on her face. I didn't realize just how different my family dinners were until recently, after eating over at Richelle's and Cal's houses.

  We wait for my father to fill his plate before serving ourselves.

  "Nicole," he says. My chest can't pull in air. I had hoped he wouldn't talk about it tonight. Not in front of Richelle.

  "Yes, Daddy," I say, connecting with the icy blue eyes that send a chill down my spine.

  "What happened with your history exam? An eighty-nine? That's not acceptable."

  The chicken in my mouth is tasteless.

  "I tried my best," I answer.

  "You didn't," he responds. His voice has no indication of just how disappointed he is in me. It's never his voice. It's always his eyes. And I'm too afraid to look into them now.

  "I got an eighty-two," Richelle announces, like she's proud. "It was a really hard test. I mean, I think the highest grade was a ninety-one."

  My father is silent. I can't swallow.

  "Interesting," my father says. Now he knows that I wasn't the best. Disappointing my father is the last thing I ever want to do.

  The rest of the meal is eaten in the most awful silence. I stare at my plate, afraid to face the eyes looking at me, because I know they all are.

  "Would you mind if Nicole comes over to my house for a little bit after dinner?" Richelle asks. "I need... help with math. And she's the best in our class."

  I glance at her real quick and she grins. We're not in the same math class. I'm in the highest level class, and Richelle hates math.

  "For just a short time," my father agrees. "She has to study for history tonight."

  "Great!" Richelle exclaims. My mother's fork scrapes her plate. "I mean... thank you."

  After my father withdraws into his office, we're allowed to leave the table.

  We bring our plates into the kitchen.

  "You girls go ahead over to Richelle's," my mother tells us in her fake, sweet voice. I know she wants tonight to be over as much as I do.

  "Are you sure, Mama?" I ask, feeling guilty leaving her with the mess.

  "Absolutely. Come back in twenty minutes," she tells me. "Then go straight to your room to study, okay?"

  I nod.

  Richelle grabs my hand, practically dragging me to the door. She picks up our jackets but doesn't even give us time to put them on.

  "Richelle..."

  But we're out the front door and cutting between the small evergreens before I can finish my thought.

  "Mom! I'm back," Richelle yells as she opens the door.

  "How was--" Mrs. Nelson begins, looking up from the computer on her lap. Her eyes widen. "Oh."

  "Yup," Richelle responds, continuing to drag me through the house and into the kitchen.

  "Hi, Nicole," Mrs. Nelson calls to me as we rush by her.

  "Um... hi, Mrs. Nelson," I reply over my shoulder.

  Richelle drops our jackets on a chair at the kitchen table, opens the freezer, and pulls out a tub of chocolate ice cream with marshmallow swirl.

  "What--"

  "Don't. Just eat it," Richelle demands with all seriousness, removing a spoon from the drawer and thrusting both at me.

  I take the ice cream and the spoon, not knowing what she expects me to do.

  "Go ahead," she encourages. "Take a bite." I've never eaten straight out of the carton before. She stares at me in anticipation.

  I scrape the spoon over the surface and put it in my mouth. I close my eyes with a sigh, letting the sweetness melt over my tongue. I take another spoonful. Richelle joins me and we eat in silence for a moment.

  "Better?"

  I nod.

  "Ice cream makes everything better. Even dinner with your father."

  Chapter Eleven

  "She never went to Harvard," Rae says over the phone.

  I'm walking across campus, running late again because I waited for Nyelle too long at Bean Buzz, like I've done for the last three days. Three days. And I haven't seen her. Considering I want to see her every day, if feels like three months. I don't think I'll ever get used to this.

  "What do you mean?" I ask, narrowly dodging a girl who cuts in front of me, texting.

  "Well, I did something I never do and actually talked to people. I started to ask around about her. I found out from Nina and Courtney that Nicole never enrolled last year."

  "How do they know?"

  "They go to Boston University, and when they went to visit last year, they convinced a guy who works in housing to look her up. He told them that she was never assigned a dorm. Freshmen stay on campus, so..."

  "She said she was traveling. Maybe she was," I say, trying to find a path of logic in all of this.

  "Or she was locked up in a padded room in some hospital."

  "Rae," I say sternly, wanting her to stop questioning Nyelle's sanity.

  "I'm just sayin'," she defends. "Cal, I like her, remember? I don't want her to be crazy. I just haven't ruled it out yet."

  "Cal!"

  I stop short, about to slam into the petite brunette standing in front of me.

  "Uh, Rae, I have to call you back." I hang up without waiting for a response. I need to get this over with or else I'll be late... again. "Uh, hey, Jade. How are you?"

  "I thought you were going to text me when you got back," she says, trying to sound casual, but there's nothing casual about the accusation.

  "Oh, yeah, uh... I've had a busy week," I say, willing a way out of this.

  "So, are we going out this weekend?" Her eyes flutter in expectation.

  "Sure," I blurt without thinking. Shit. I shouldn't have said that. Now I'm stuck. "How about... Friday night?"

  "Perfect. I'm in Fredericks Dorm. Text me what time, okay?"

  "Okay, I will," I reply. "I'm late for class. I'll see you Friday."

  She reaches up, expecting a hug that I return awkwardly. "I can't wait," she whispers in my ear before releasing me and continuing on her way.

  That's not how that was supposed to go.

  *

  Jade reaches for my hand in the dark. I unwillingly wrap my fingers around hers. My back stiffens when she leans her head against my shoulder.

  I shouldn't be here with Jade. She's not the one whose hand I want to be holding, or whose head I want on my arm. But because I was put on the spot and didn't have the balls to reject her to her face, I'm sitting with her in a crowded movie theater--and the rolling credits can't come soon enough.

  Jade wasn't impressed when she found out we were going to the movies. It's the worst possible place for a first date. There's no talking. No chance for intimacy. No interest in getting to know each other. I'm hoping it's a dead giveaway that this won't go beyond tonight. But this girl is determined to make the most of it, or... can't take a hint. I silently groan when she runs a thumb over my hand.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket and I shoot out of my seat. Jade pops her head up in surprise. "Everything okay?"

  "Sorry, I've got to take this," I blurt, without knowing who's calling. Her eyes widen and I hear some guy demanding I sit down. I instantly feel like an asshole. "I'll be right back."

  I start up the aisle, checking my screen to see who I should be thanking for interrupting my date. Nyelle. My stomach drops. She swore she'd never use the phone. Assuming the worst, I answer before I'm through the doors to the lobby.

  "Nyelle?"

  "Cal!" she yells way too loudly on the other end of the phone. "I got in a fight. You should have seen it. I punched him!" She laughs hysterically. She's drunk.

  "You punched someone? Are you okay?" I'm standing in the middle of the lobby. A little kid bumps into my legs, spilling popcorn on my shoes.

  There's silence.

  "Nyelle? Can you hear me?" I head for the doors.

  There's a heavy breath. "Um... I don't know if I'm okay." Her voice is suddenly so somber, I falter in my steps. "Cal, can you come get me?"

  "Yeah," I answer
automatically, practically at my truck. "Where are you?"

  "I don't know," she answers quietly. "I'm sitting in a tree. Oh. I'm sitting in the frosting tree."

  I think for a moment, trying to recall exactly where that is. "Okay. I'll be right there. Wait for me, okay?"

  "I tried to forget, Cal," Nyelle says barely audibly. "I really wanted to forget."

  I don't know what she's talking about, but I can feel her slipping away. I need to get to her. "I know. Stay on the phone with me, okay?" I can't dig the keys out of my jeans pocket fast enough.

  "I wanted to leave tonight," she says quietly. "I didn't really care where. I just wanted to... go away. Disappear." Her voice drifts away, like she's lost in her head. And my nerves are shot, knowing I'm nowhere near her yet.

  I turn on the engine and back out of the space in practically the same motion. I have the phone tucked under my chin as I shift into first.

  "What made you stay?" I ask, not sure if that was the right question to ask. But at this point, my only concern is to keep her talking.

  "You," she answers. It isn't the answer I expect, but it's the one I wanted to hear. There's a brief silence between us as I pull onto the road, heading toward campus. "I promised not to leave yet."

  "And I don't want you to leave yet," I respond with the faintest smile.

  I turn down a road leading toward the park, where I hope to find the tree Nyelle is sitting in.

  "You should tell Rae I'm on the drug phone!" Nyelle says with a sudden burst of laughter.

  "Yeah, I'll tell her," I reply, the sudden mood change taking me by surprise. "I'm glad you used it to call me. Now tell me about this fight. What happened?"

  Nyelle breaks out into another fit of laughter, edged with hysteria. It makes me nervous.

  The laughter stops abruptly and then she's yelling into the phone, "Because I want to, so fuck off!"

  "Nyelle? What's going on?" I ask, concerned by the hostility in her voice.

  I hear a man yelling back in the distance, but I can't make out what he's saying.

  "I'd like to see you try, fucker!" Nyelle hollers and laughs. "Cal?"

  "Yeah, I'm still here." I make a rolling stop at an intersection, estimating I'm another five minutes away. "Everything all right?"

  "Just people giving me shit," she responds. "Like they've never seen someone in a tree before. Stupid." I can imagine her rolling her eyes. "What were we talking about?"

  "What you were up to tonight. Where were you--"