by Sarah Sutton
“Ha-ha,” she tried to mock, but it fell flat, her eyes distant. “I’ve had such a long day. How on earth is it still Monday?”
I smiled a little. “Well, Mom, the days of the week work in a pretty obvious order—”
“Kathleen called me today.”
It was all she had to say to stop my train of thought in its tracks and turn the calculus problem in front of me to gibberish. One would think in times of a crisis, people would pull their friends and family closer. But two weeks ago, when Terry’s plea deal was being worked over, Mrs. G had done the equivalent of ghosting Mom. Stopped answering her calls, ignored her when they saw each other outside. Much like how she treated me Thursday night, barely aware I was there. “Mrs. Greybeck calling you is a good thing, isn’t it? That means things are going back to normal between you two.”
Mom unwound her small ponytail, letting her locks fall around her shoulders in a bumpy, wavy mess. “No, she wasn’t calling for me. She asked for your father’s number. She said she wanted to fact-check what their attorney told them about Terry’s case.”
“His case?” I asked, my brow furrowing. “What do you mean? I thought everything was decided. He took the deal to lessen his sentencing and all that, right?”
“He did. He got an accomplice charge instead of larceny involvement. Thirteen months in a correctional facility and community service once he gets out. Cut and dried. Pretty good for what he faced originally. But you also know that Kathy, she…isn’t taking it well.”
Despite the fact that Elijah never went into details about Terry, I knew a handful of information. It was hard not to in a small town like this. Terry and a bunch of his friends had thought it would be a great idea to rob a drug store, and then a gas station, in the middle of the night. Someone made an anonymous phone call, a phone call that ultimately got them caught. One brought along a BB gun and nearly got them all felonies for armed robbery. Geniuses right there.
Terry and another guy were parked in the getaway car and had been able to get a lesser sentence through some legal mumbo jumbo. Dad didn’t represent him in trial but had recommended a great lawyer.
I remembered last Thursday, Mrs. Greybeck’s fixation on the law firm’s webpage. “Did you give her Dad’s number?”
“I gave her his office number. I wouldn’t give out his cell without his permission.”
The house quieted while both of us stewed in our thoughts. If Mrs. Greybeck was still worried about Terry’s case, I wondered how Elijah’s home life was. Were they still talking about it at dinner every night? Did they even have family dinners anymore?
Something seemed to occur to Mom because she lifted her tired gaze to mine. “How did your evening out go?”
I shrugged a shoulder, trying to force my focus back to my homework. “It was all right.”
“Did Elijah go?”
Elijah was too busy locking lips with his girlfriend in his driveway. “No.”
But Mom hadn’t finished prying. “Are you two okay? Have things been strained since everything happened? I haven’t seen him around lately.”
“I’ve got homework, Mom,” I said, a little snappish, but I didn’t want to talk about Elijah or his family anymore; I didn’t feel like talking at all.
“Did you get any dinner? I ate while I was out.”
“I warmed up leftovers.”
“I’m going to get ready for bed, then,” she replied quietly, pushing off the counter. “If you need anything, you know where I’m at.” She stopped halfway down the hall. “I love you, sweetheart.”
My lips felt tight when I spoke. “Love you.”
There were three unanswered questions on my math worksheet, but I closed the book and covered the numbers, kneading the heel of my hand into my forehead. So many things ran through that stupid brain of mine in a way that only added to the pounding. I could account for three names in the cacophony of pain: Jeremy, Mrs. Keller, Elijah. Three names that caused my brain to work overtime. Three seemed to be the magic number of the night. Three math problems, three names, three reasons my life was stressing me out to the max. Perfect.
I hardcore avoided Elijah the next morning, and it went well—until school actually started and we were in homeroom together. American History. And of course, we sat by each other. His pestering proved unavoidable.
“How did it go?” he whispered, leaning in slightly to avoid suspicion. We were watching a documentary about World War II, and the dimmed lights and film noises covered up his attempt at conversation. “You never texted me.”
He was right; I hadn’t texted him back for a lot of reasons. Many included the fact that I hated myself and those stupid butterflies I got whenever I thought about him. Because now, with him so close, those butterflies were impossible to ignore.
“It was fine.”
“Fine? No sparks, no fireworks?” A pause. “Did you kiss him?”
“Nosy much?”
A cough rendered both of us silent, and we pretended to be engrossed in the film as several seconds ticked by.
Elijah glanced over, folding his hands on the top of his desk. “Are you going out again?”
“Probably,” I whispered back. “I thought we were going to double date one day this week.”
“I didn’t know if you’d want to. I wanted to check with you before I asked Sav.”
I didn’t know how to respond so I kept quiet, rubbing the pad of my thumb over the tops of my fingernails. Did I want to double date with him and Savannah? After last night, I really wasn’t sure. Seeing them together, thinking about them together…it made knots form in my stomach. Tight knots. Could I really survive a double date with them?
I rubbed the edge of my nail, trying to screen my thoughts. I really needed to get my nails painted. It’d been a while since I’d gotten a proper manicure, and the hangnail on my thumb was starting to bother me. If I keep focusing on my nails, maybe I’ll stop thinking about everything else. I hated that he knew me so well, that he had a free pass to speak to me when I tried to ignore him.
Every small part of me, every thought and nerve and cell, short-circuited when Elijah laid his hand on mine, stopping my movements. The edge of his thumb felt worn down from sculpting, nails short. I jerked, but he held fast.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, and I didn’t realize he was leaning close enough for me to be able to feel his breath against my neck. “You’re acting weird.”
Weird, huh? Nothing weird at all about the fact that my armpits are starting to sweat like it’s the middle of summer just by you touching my hand, right? No. Not weird at all.
“Is this because I talked to Jeremy yesterday?” he went on in the same tone, fingers ever so gentle against mine. “I just wanted to set him straight, that’s all. Make sure he treated you right. No funny business and—”
“Mr. Greybeck and Ms. Beaufort,” a voice snapped from the back of the classroom, and Elijah immediately jerked his hand away, pushing it through his hair. It was a quick movement, too quick for anyone’s darting eyes to notice. But I caught the rigid pose of his spine, the stiffness to his shoulders. “Quiet.”
We were both silent as we watched the film, though I didn’t really take in any of it. I pulled my hand into my lap, running my fingertips across where Elijah’s had rested, the pressure still tingling my skin.
Before, I’d thought that it would be impossible to hate Elijah, but in that moment, I felt a rush of anger. The kind that made my body tense, the acrid taste lingering in the back of my throat. Anger with Elijah was about unheard of, one of the rarest things on earth, and yet there it was, potent and piping hot. It was Elijah’s fault that all of this was happening. For putting these thoughts in my head, for our stupid closet kissing, for my stupid concussion. All his stupid fault.
I should’ve shoved the feeling down, forced it away, but I latched onto the emotion, almost choking on it.
“Remi,” Elijah whispered again.
“Shut up,” I hissed, settling back in my sea
t and all but glaring ahead. I tucked my hands underneath my armpits, folded and stern. It didn’t stop the tingling. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”
For the rest of the hour, Elijah didn’t utter another word, sitting beside me in my stiff silence. I had no hope of focusing on the documentary, not when I could hardly sit still.
When the bell rang to switch classes, I practically bolted from the room.
Eloise popped her gum loudly beside my locker, waiting for me to grab my things. In addition to her noisy gum-popping, she shook her car keys back and forth, the chittering sound loud against my skull. “Are you nervous or something?” I asked her, pulling out a book for English. “Why are you fidgeting?”
The popping and shaking stopped. “I’m not.”
“You definitely are.”
She gave a falsely bright smile. “There’s a quiz tomorrow in world history. I’m…thinking about it. Running through the glossary terms in my head. That’s all.”
Eloise was a junior, a year under me, so we didn’t share any classes. Even so, I had a strong feeling that there wasn’t a quiz in world history tomorrow.
“Incoming.”
I looked up to see Savannah a few paces down the hallway, walking with another girl. We locked eyes, but Elijah wasn’t with her, and I didn’t expect her to stop. There was no time to hide my surprise when she did.
“Hey, Remi,” she said, slowing down to pull up beside me. Her blonde hair hung loose in her face, her curls perfect, of course. A girl from our class stood beside her, eyeing me. “How are you feeling today? Any headaches?”
I remembered to grab my jacket this time, winding my arms through the sleeves. “I’m okay, Sav. Better and better every day.”
“That’s great. You know, I just told Elijah that your head’s as hard as a rock. Nothing too bad will happen to you.”
“Hard as a rock?” Eloise interjected, frowning. “Was that supposed to be offensive?”
The shock that fluttered over her expression seemed genuine. “No! I just meant that you can come back from anything.”
I forced my features into a pleasant expression. Whatever would rush this conversation along. “Thanks for being positive, Savannah.”
Her dark eyes leveled with mine. “You’re welcome. I mean, head injuries just suck, don’t they? I hit my head at Jer’s party too, but I bounced back quick. Hopefully you do too.”
Just from watching her, I couldn’t decipher whether or not she knew the truth. Her face seemed relaxed, her lips formed into a loose smile; if she knew or suspected, she wasn’t letting on. But the thing was that it wasn’t her in the closet. It was me. So why was she lying?
“Yeah,” I said instead of asking that question aloud, feeling like I was caught in a web with no way out. “Hopefully.”
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, lifting her hand in farewell before moving off.
“I can’t get a read on her,” Eloise said from my side, watching her go. “She seems nice, but I can’t tell if it’s genuine or not.”
“I don’t know.” I frowned a little, turning back to my locker. “I had a date with Jeremy last night.”
“What?” she all but shrieked, causing several people to look in our direction. Eloise smacked my shoulder. “And you’re just now telling me? How was it?”
I flinched, torn from my train of thought. “How was what? You slapping me?”
“The date, idiot. I can’t believe you’re just mentioning it now. You should’ve called me.”
“In my defense, I had a headache and homework.” Yeah, both excuses were lame. “I’m a bad friend, I know. We went out for dinner. He talked…a lot.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
Maybe not. It was just that I was so used to doing all the talking. Elijah wasn’t much of a talker, but he listened. More than anyone else I knew, he listened, and he enjoyed listening. At least, I thought so. I shook my head to clear it because I so didn’t need to be thinking of a certain someone. “It didn’t seem like he listened to me much, either.”
Eloise watched as I wrapped my scarf around my neck, folding her arms over her chest. “He was probably just nervous. I mean, you probably looked all cute and mysterious, sitting across from him. Giving him your flirty eyes.”
“My what? I don’t have flirty eyes.” For some stupid reason, my thoughts backtracked to Elijah. His face just appeared behind my lids and I couldn’t shake it. What the heck? “We’re going out again. Maybe it’ll be better.”
Eloise wrapped her arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “It definitely will be. First dates are always awkward. Now come on, I’m definitely driving you home so you can give me the rundown of everything he said.”
“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “But it’s going to be a lot.”
Chapter Eleven
I coerced Eloise into stopping by the craft store on the way home so I could finally begin the snowflakes for the dance. Though a part of me wanted to put the snowflakes off and ignore them until they became a big deal, that was the kind of mentality that had gotten me into this predicament in the first place. This time around, I needed to be smarter. More responsible.
Yuck.
By nine o’clock that night, and after I’d finished all my other homework, I’d gotten seven snowflakes into 150, and my fingers were cramping something fierce. Not to mention that I had glitter everywhere. On my clothes, underneath my fingernails, in my eyes—heck, I probably even ingested some at one point. Mrs. Keller hadn’t said anything about how glitter really was the devil’s dandruff, evil and gross.
She also didn’t mention that the coupons she gave me didn’t actually cover the entire price, only discounted it. I ended up having to pull out my wallet. Yeah, she probably didn’t plan on reimbursing me for that either.
Since the snowflakes had to be twelve by twelve, it took quite a bit of intricate cutting to match the template Mrs. K had given me. Each snowflake took about fifteen minutes to complete, and that didn’t include the dry time for the glue. At this rate, I was never going to graduate.
I clipped the scissors around the light blue paper, making sure to keep my cuts small and precise to match the template. They needed to be as close to perfect as God would allow. Even though Mrs. Keller was supposed to teach about expression, I had a feeling me half-doing this project wouldn’t go over her head.
Mom drifted through the kitchen with an empty cup in her hand, walking over to the tap. “Do you want any help before I go to bed, sweetheart?”
“That’s okay,” I said, sticking my tongue out a bit in concentration, trying to get the final corner. “I don’t think I’ll be at this much longer. My thumbs are about to fall off.”
Mom smoothed her hand down the back of my head and pressed a kiss against my skull. “Love you, darling.”
I hadn’t told Mom exactly why I was doing this little art project. I imagined that she just thought it was an assignment for class. No way I’d tell her how close I was to failing. She could find out after the fact, when report cards were sent out. She’d see for herself that I had a sixty percent. Yeah, that wasn’t going to be pretty.
A knock on the front door startled me enough that my final cut came too close to the other lines, merging the white spaces together, effectively ruining the pattern. Tape could fix that, right? Ugh.
I all but slammed the scissors down on the tabletop, pushing away and padding to the front door. Whoever interrupted my snowflake time was going to get an earful. Especially since they forced me to ruin one. The porch light made the steps glow, and I peeked out the window to see who stood over the threshold.
“I come bearing gifts,” Elijah called through the door. “A white flag of surrender and Thai takeout.”
I flipped the deadbolt over and tugged on the handle. “This stupid door,” I muttered.
“I think all the damp is rotting the frame, causing the door to stick,” Elijah said from the other side. “It’s an old frame, anyway; it’s starti
ng to rot in the corners and by the threshold. I hate to say it because it’s a crummy time to do this, but it probably needs replacing.”
“Then you need to fix it.”
“If I’m by the hardware store, I’ll drop by and see if I can get some supplies.” Elijah kicked the corner of the door from the other side, and it about knocked me in the forehead as it swung inward.
I moved in front of the doorway immediately, not letting him through, taking in the sight of him. He wore his denim jacket, his hair rucked up from the wind, and from his fingertips dangled a white plastic bag with a yellow smiley face on the front.
“It’s nine o’clock at night,” I informed him.
His face remained determined, eyebrows aloft and hopeful smile in place. “I’m pretty sure there’s no law against eating Thai after nine.”
“I just finished washing tonight’s dishes an hour ago.”
“Then it’ll be great leftovers, yeah? Let me in.” When I didn’t move, he sighed. “Let me in so I can properly apologize for butting into your love life.”
“Oh, if you’re going to apologize, then…” I stepped out of the way so he could pass, a breeze of cool air sneaking in behind him. He immediately slipped off his sneakers and placed them on the shoe rack, handing me the bag so he could take off his jacket. “So this is bribery Thai?”
“More like guilt Thai. I was coming home from Sav’s and thought it would be a good apology present.”
I felt my good spirits wither away in an instant, along with the generosity I had been feeling toward him.
Elijah noticed the change in expression immediately, even though I turned away to try and hide it. “Did something happen with you and Savannah?” he asked, trailing after me as I made my way into the kitchen. “You two were strange in the car yesterday morning. And last night—I saw you, you know. Outside in the snow. Is everything okay?”
I set the bag down on the countertop, bracing myself against the granite. Having my back turned to him was better because I couldn’t see what expression graced his features, whether his face was pulled into a taut frown or open like a book. When I had my back to him, it felt easy to stay like this, trapped in a frozen state of discomfort. Annoyance. Bitterness. Better than the butterflies. “What is this, twenty questions? I’m fine, Eli.”
