Kate in Waiting

by Becky Albertalli

  Ryan points his spoon at me. “You mean Tony the Tiger.”

  I scowl at him, but Brandie smiles as sweetly as ever. “Want to come be our Minstrel?”

  “Your what?” He looks horrified.

  “Not the racist kind,” Brandie says quickly. “Like those medieval musicians who walk around playing the mandolin.”

  “Hashtag: jammin’,” I add.

  Ryan side-eyes me intensely.

  I pat his head and turn back to Brandie. “You ready?”

  “Okay, wait, what do you need me to do?” Ryan starts to stand.

  I stare at him, stunned. He’s not . . . serious. Right?

  But Brandie just nods, like this is just some normal occurrence. Ryan. My brother. Filling in for Lana freaking Bennett. “Yeah. I mean, if you want to give us our cues, that would be great. You don’t have to sing or anything.”

  Ryan shrugs. “Okay, sure.”

  Nope. This is too weird to be real. Either Ryan’s trolling us, or I’m dreaming. Unless—

  It hits me with the force of a volcano. Holy shit. Holy holy HOLY shit.

  I have to text Andy. Right now. Right this second.

  I don’t even wait until we’re upstairs. I trail behind Brandie and Ryan, frantically typing.

  ANDY YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS.

  I’m just

  I think Ryan has an actual crush

  ON BRANDIE

  This is not a drill

  Brandie and Ryan head into my room, but I pause in the doorway, peering down at my phone. No response. Which is fine. It’s not like I’m about to explode all over Mom’s hardwood floors. You just take your sweet everloving time, Anderson Walker.

  Brandie takes her usual spot on my bed, but Ryan wimps out and goes for the desk chair. So I stick my phone in my pocket and settle in next to Brandie—but I barely last a minute before I whip it out again to check. Nothing.

  I scoot out of Brandie’s screen-reading range.

  Anderson where are you???

  Andy he’s helping us rehearse. And hanging out with us voluntarily. RYAN!!!

  Like THIS MAKES SO MUCH SENSE. He’s been hanging out with me so much more than usual and NOW I GET IT

  He’s IN LOVE.

  Are you getting these??

  No response. No ellipses. Just nothing. A giant box of nothing.

  Scene 57

  Anderson doesn’t write back for hours, and even then, it’s just a halfhearted lol. Not even an LOL with exclamation points. I’m sorry, but that has to be the most severe underreaction in all of human history. It makes me feel like I’m being punched in the face every time I look at my phone.

  It’s just so totally not like him. It’s the antithesis of Anderson.

  Unless, of course, he’s mad at me. But why? I keep reading and reading the whole series of texts, trying to crack the code. Like, did I say something creepy? Or problematic? Is he just opposed to the Good Ship Bryan? Maybe Andy’s got Ryan pegged as a fuckboy. Maybe he loathes Ryan the way I loathe Eric Graves.

  So I try to steer us back to neutral with a link to some irresistible content about Disney prince hotness rankings. But Anderson never writes back, and I honestly feel a little sick about it. I spend all of Sunday on tenterhooks, practically magnetized to my phone.

  I text him again after dinner, and I swear, I actually feel shy. Which is more than weird. It’s unnerving. I spend ten minutes tweaking the wording to make it sound extra chill and casual.

  Hey, am I still riding with you tomorrow?

  He writes back instantly. Of course!!

  Followed by a full line of emojis.

  So gloriously normal, I could weep.

  Matt’s not quite back from Alabama, so it’s just Andy and me this morning. The OG duo. My triumphant return to the passenger seat. And maybe Anderson’s a little subdued, but at least I don’t get a vibe that he hates me.

  So we’re good. Normal ride, normal Monday, normal us. I mean, it’s approximately normal. Round-up normal, at least as long as I keep doing most of the talking. By the time we reach Hardscrabble Road, I’ve already walked Anderson through my theory that Ryan and Brandie have been secretly texting for weeks.

  “I’m getting to the bottom of this.” I press my lips together, nodding. “Maybe if I photograph Ryan’s phone screen and zoom in, I could make out the name—”

  “Or you could just ask him,” says Andy.

  “He’ll deny it.”

  My phone buzzes, and the sound alone makes my heart flip. I guess I spent so long obsessing over texts yesterday, my brain got stuck there. But then again, maybe the heart flip is justified. Because the text is from Matt.

  Hey, I’m so sorry if that was weird on Friday. I shouldn’t have just shown up.

  I grin down at my screen. There are ellipses. He’s still typing.

  A moment later: I feel so bad!

  OMG, don’t feel bad! I write back. You’re fine. How’s Alabama??

  Ehh. It’s

  Oh no! I’m so sorry!!! You okay?

  I look back up at Andy. “Yikes. Sounds like Matt’s not having the best weekend.”

  “Yeah . . .”

  My phone buzzes again. I’m fine. My dad’s just a lot. One more night. I’ll be back by rehearsal tomorrow. We’ll talk this week, okay?

  As promised, Matt arrives around dismissal on Tuesday, just in time for rehearsal. He plops into the seat beside me. “Hi.”

  I smile up at him. “You made it.”

  “So glad to be home.” Home. I like that when he says that, he means Roswell. He means us.

  “Did things get any better with your dad?”

  “I mean, not really? My dad’s kind of . . .” He trails off, smiling, like he always does when he talks about his dad. Over Matt’s shoulder, I see Anderson enter through the far side auditorium door, cutting straight to the front row of seats.

  Which is weird. I’m sure he saw us. It’s not like we’re hidden.

  So maybe Anderson really is mad at me. I’ve been going back and forth about it all day. In history class, he just seemed quiet. He didn’t show up to lunch. And now this.

  My eyes keep drifting toward him, but he seems to be pointedly ignoring us, thumbing through his script like he’s practicing his lines. Even though we all know Anderson’s had the whole play memorized since the first week of rehearsal.

  “—missed the game,” Matt says—and only then do I realize he’s been speaking this whole time. I look back at him with a start. “But it is what it is,” Matt says, and I nod my head vaguely.

  My brain’s on a loop. Anderson’s mad at me, Anderson’s mad at me, Anderson’s mad at me. He’s not supposed to be mad at me, per the ground rules. But I think he is. I’m almost positive. And it’s giving me that verge-of-explosion feeling in my throat.

  I guess if I were a perfect friend, I’d nip the Matt issue in the bud. I could end the whole thing right now. He’d have to understand, right? Matt would never want to come between my friendship with Andy. Though if I even mention Andy, that’s basically telling Matt to his face that Andy has a crush on him. Which would be an earth-shattering, almost unspeakable betrayal, a full and flagrant violation of the Code of Secrecy. Putting Anderson’s heart on the line, opening him to the full humiliation of publicly confirmed unrequited love.

  I’m not a perfect friend, but I’m a better friend than that.

  Scene 58

  But Wednesday morning, something finally shifts.

  We’re all pretty quiet on the ride to school, but the silence feels softer somehow. Then, when Matt’s a few steps ahead in the parking lot, Anderson holds me back with a tiny elbow grab. “Hey. Can we talk?”

  I look up at him, startled. “Sure.”

  “Kate.” He exhales, looking me right in the eye. “I’m so sorry.” And then, before I can even process it, he gives me this massive, tight hug—so sudden and forceful, we almost bang into Matt’s car. “I love you so much,” he says. “I’ve been so weird. I’m sorry
. I’m so sorry.” He disentangles, peering closely at my face. I feel my eyes start to prickle. “Are we okay?”

  “Of course.” My voice breaks, just slightly. “I hate the weirdness. It’s the Matt thing, right?”

  Andy nods, and for a minute, I swear he might burst into tears. “I’m not handling stuff well.”

  “No, I’m the one who’s not handling stuff well!”

  He does this choked little laugh. “Katy, how does anyone ever fight with you?”

  “I love you so much,” I say, and now I’m crying for real. I don’t deserve Anderson. I honestly don’t. He could hate my guts right now, and under the circumstances, I’d understand it. Anyone would understand. He’s too good. “You’re the most important person to me, okay? I’m not going to let anyone come between us.” I hug him again, burying my face in his chest, and he wraps his arms around me tightly.

  “Same. Oh, Kate.” He releases me, then wipes his cheeks with the heels of both hands. “You’re the most important to me too.” He exhales. “I love you so much. More than anything.”

  And I know it’s stupid, needing that validation, but I’m almost giddy with relief.

  Scene 59

  Andy’s got an intensive rehearsal today, so it’s just Matt for the ride home from school. My heart does this little jolt as soon as I shut the car door. It’s officially our first moment alone together since he showed up on Dad’s doorstep, and I just feel so larger-than-life about it. I feel like a verse in a poem.

  We haven’t even left the school lot when he asks me if I want to grab ice cream. “Wasn’t there a place near Taco Mac?”

  “Bruster’s.”

  “Okay, cool.” He does this quick, eager nod, and it’s so cute, I feel dizzy.

  It’s about a five-minute ride from school. Neither of us says much on the way there. I keep glancing sideways at Matt without meaning to. He’s staring dutifully at the road, but his jaw keeps clenching. It’s so hard to know what he’s thinking.

  The lot’s almost entirely empty. There’s only one other customer hanging out on the benches—an older white guy working on a giant rainbow waffle cone. We follow the old guy’s lead on the cone, but Matt gets chocolate, and I get cake batter. And a bowl to put my cone in.

  “Want to sit by the tree?” Matt asks, pointing to a little bench on the other side of the parking lot.

  “Sure.”

  The minute we sit down, I get the same anticipatory feeling you get when you step onto a stage. That little heart palpitation chest hiccup.

  “So I know we never really got to talk after last weekend,” Matt says.

  “Right.” My heart beats another notch faster. “What’s up?”

  “Okay. Here I go.” He nods, smile flickering. “Sorry. You can probably tell I haven’t done this a lot.”

  “Take your time,” I say, trying to sound calm.

  He keeps fidgeting with his napkin, wrapping and unwrapping his cone.

  “I know we haven’t been friends for that long,” he says. “Which is crazy to me, because it really feels like we have. I feel like I knew you in a past life or something.”

  “Me too.”

  “I don’t even know why I’m nervous. I’m just going to say it.” He blinks and then inhales and then looks right into my eyes. “So I’m sure you already guessed this, but. I’m gay.”

  I freeze. My whole body. Heart, lungs, every cell, every organ.

  “Oh,” I say simply.

  “Okay.” He grips his ice-cream cone with both hands, smiling hugely. “I did it.”

  “Wow.” I nod. Really fast. Like maybe if I nod quickly enough, my eyes will stop prickling. “Yeah! Wow. I’m just—wow. Thanks for trusting me.”

  “I mean, of course. You’re best friends with Anderson. Obviously I knew you weren’t, like, a homophobe.” He’s still smiling. “I feel so—” He sighs. “Wow. I can’t even tell you how good this feels.”

  “So you haven’t told a lot of people?” I ask, and Matt shakes his head.

  “I’m telling my mom tonight. And your mom, I guess.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “Oh, God no.” He does this choked little laugh.

  “I’m really sorry. That’s so shitty.”

  “I’m just glad I don’t live there anymore. Last weekend was just . . . unbearable.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “Oh, no. Yeah, nothing in particular.” Matt pauses, swallowing a bite of his cone. “It’s just so much better here, which made it hard to go back, even for the weekend. I hated my old school so much. Like, I didn’t know a single queer person there. Or maybe I did, but no one was out. And then I came here, and there are so many of us. And you’ve got Andy, who’s just, like, almost nonchalant about it, you know?”

  I take the last bite of my cone, and set my bowl on the bench. “I don’t think people usually describe Andy as nonchalant.”

  Matt laughs. “Okay, true. But you know what I mean. He’s so sure of himself, and he’s out to everyone, and I’m just in awe of that. I didn’t even know I could want that.”

  “Yeah. I mean, I think it took him a minute, but, you know. He’s had time to figure it out. You will too.”

  “Thanks, Kate.” He smiles at me.

  It makes my throat catch.

  “You know what’s funny?” he says. “That whole time at camp, I thought you and Andy were dating.” He studies my face for a moment. “Okay, you’ve got a little bit of ice cream . . . here, I’ll just—”

  He swipes the corner of my mouth with two fingers.

  I think my brain just derailed.

  I just can’t wrap my head around it. He’s touching my face. But he’s gay. And he was gay when he asked for my number. All those secret smiles and locked eyes, all the moments I stacked in my head like they meant something. All that snowballing romantic tension. All that kissing.

  All that choreographed, staged kissing.

  “Have you ever just been so totally wrong about someone?” Matt says.

  “Yup,” I say softly.

  I think I might burst into tears.

  One day, I’ll tell him. In a year or two, maybe. Whenever the thought of it stops making me want to sink into the floorboards. I’ll tell him over cocktails when we’re twenty-five. Hey, remember when you came out to me at Bruster’s? And I was shocked? Because I thought you were in love with me? Me and my fine-ass observational skills. Queen Kate the Clueless strikes again and again and again.

  Scene 60

  The next morning, Andy’s waiting outside my algebra class, looking frantic. “Hey! I have to pee.”

  “Isn’t the bell about to ring?”

  “Just check in with Ms. Whatshername—”

  “Evans.”

  “Ms. Evans! Great. Just tell her you have to puke or something.” He grabs my hand. “Come on.”

  “You have Senior D—”

  “Kate. It’s fine. Come on.” And the next thing I know, I’m trailing behind him through the arts wing, all the way back to the BTF. I can’t quite read his expression. He seems happy. I think? I don’t know why he wouldn’t be, because clearly Matt just came out to him on the ride to school. And he must know I know. He’s probably bursting to talk about it.

  It is kind of exciting, if you look at it from Andy’s perspective. I don’t want to say Andy’s only ever had crushes on straight boys, but there have been quite a few straight boys. And obviously Matt being gay doesn’t automatically mean he’s into Anderson, but there’s still that possibility. I actually think I wouldn’t mind it, down the line. Once all the dust settles.

  “So Matt talked to you,” Andy says, settling in on his toilet.

  “Yes,” I say, but then I hesitate. Because maybe Andy thinks this conversation is about something else entirely. I don’t want to say more than I should.

  “Yes, about him being gay, Kate,” Andy says, apparently reading my mind. I can tell from his voice that he’s smiling. “I like that you were careful
not to out him, though.”

  “I just—”

  “I’m not being sarcastic. For real. Like, he’s not really out. So you’re right to be careful. I think we’re the only ones who know. Period.”

  “So he told you this morning?”

  Anderson’s silent for a moment.

  “He literally just told me yesterday,” I add. “I promise.”

  “Katy, Matt and I are dating,” Anderson says.

  And that’s when the world stops. Not just me. Not just my body. It’s like the whole entire world just went still on its axis. “I thought . . .” He pauses. “I don’t know. We thought you’d kind of guessed.”

  “We?” I say faintly.

  “Me and—”

  “You and Matt. I get it. I know who the we is.” I stare at my jeans, tucking two fingers into the scraggly denim around my knees. My voice falls. “You’re dating? He’s your—like your boyfriend?”

  “We haven’t said boyfriend. I don’t know,” Andy says.

  “So when?” I feel like my chest is caving in on itself. “When did this happen?”

  “A while ago.”

  My voice cracks. “A while ago.”

  “Kate.”

  “What do you mean, a while ago? We’ve known him for like a month.”

  “Like . . . two weeks ago? Just under. He picked me up after you got back from your brother’s birthday dinner.”

  The memory lands like a punch. Watching from my bedroom window as Matt left right after my brother did. I’d assumed he was going to Michelle McConnell’s party. He’d even changed his shirt.

  “Katy.”

  I don’t reply.

  “Kate, say something. Please be happy for me.” His voice breaks. “Please.”

  “I—”

  “I swear, I really thought you knew. Like when we were talking about it in the parking lot, and you said you weren’t handling it well—”

  “Yeah, because I’m an idiot. I thought you were jealous. I felt so guilty. I thought I was breaking your heart.”

  “That’s ridiculous—”

  “That Matt would like me? Yeah—”

  “No!” Anderson’s voice quakes. “You shouldn’t have felt guilty, Kate, we talked about this. The ground rules—”