The Keeping Score Box Set

by Tawdra Kandle

  She crossed her heart. “Never would. Not my circus, anyway. It’s all yours, Katherine Graham.”

  “That’s a good one—Katherine Graham.” Jake leaned against the desk. “Does that make me Ben Bradlee?”

  “In your dreams, buddy.” I waved. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Later, Q. Bye, Nate.”

  Nate answered only with a curt nod, letting me pass him through the doorway before he slowly pushed off and walked alongside.

  “You need to stop at your locker?” His tone when it was just the two of us was much gentler, less defensive.

  “Nope. I’m good.”

  We walked toward the side doors of the school, both of us silent. I slowed my steps to accommodate Nate’s, as I always had. Anyone watching us might think we were a typical couple, taking our time as we meandered down the hall, but I could still see the slight stutter and the occasional jerkiness of Nate’s gait.

  As soon as we were outside, on the sidewalk, Nate glanced down at me. “Want me to carry your books?”

  “No.” I brushed up against him, not quite shoving into his side, but almost. “I’m a strong, independent young woman, Nate. I carry my own damn books.”

  “Nice. I was just offering. Being a gentleman.” He grinned, shaking his head.

  “Duly noted and appreciated, but no, thanks.” I stepped onto a cluster of acorns, relishing the satisfying crunch beneath the rubber sole of my sneaker. “The trees are so pretty, aren’t they? If only they could stay like this and not fall. I hate winter, when they all look so dead.”

  A shadow passed over Nate’s face. “Yeah, me too. But then spring comes. You just have to hold on long enough to get through the winter.”

  “I guess. Still. I’d be okay if we went right from fall to spring, with maybe a little bit of snow just on Christmas day.”

  “Customized weather, huh? Someone should get working on that.” He kicked a pile of dried leaves. “Quinn, what happened with Trish?”

  “Oh.” A strand of my brown hair fell over my eyes, and I blew up a breath to brush it away. “It really wasn’t anything. She didn’t like what I wrote, and she tried to intimidate me. That was it.”

  “She just backed down?” Nate, all too familiar with the ways of bullies, sounded skeptical. “Really?”

  “Well . . . no. It might’ve been worse, but Leo showed up and got her to leave.” I tried to keep my own frustration out of my words, but it was impossible, especially when I was with Nate. He was the only other person who truly understood what it was like to see one of our best friends—the third in our Trio—change so much that he was more like a stranger these days.

  “What did Leo do?”

  I didn’t miss the heavy irony. Nate’s resentment of Leo was even greater than mine; on the rare occasions I was around both of them, I felt like the rope in a game of tug-of-war.

  “Oh, he just sort of diffused the situation. Told Trish to cease and desist.” I paused, wondering how much more I should share with Nate. “And then he basically told me that I was wrong for having written that op-ed piece.”

  “So it’s your fault that Trish attacked you?” Nate shifted his backpack from one shoulder to the other, and I noticed tiny beads of sweat on his upper lip. I must’ve been walking too fast without realizing it. I gradually slowed my steps.

  “He didn’t come out and say that, but that’s the way I took it. I might’ve gotten a little pissy with him. I think I hurt his feelings.”

  Nate scoffed. “Yeah, I doubt that. I know you try to give him the benefit of the doubt, Quinn, but Leo hasn’t had feelings for a long time when it comes to us. He always looks at me like I’m . . . I don’t know. The old teddy bear his mom refuses to throw away. Like he’s outgrown me.”

  “I don’t think that’s true.” The mad that had carried me after I’d turned my back on Leo was giving way to hurt. Misery was a band around my heart, squeezing until I felt like I was going to cry. I kept seeing Leo’s face when we were arguing in the hallway. His expression had been almost one of . . . pity. Maybe Nate was right. But admitting that to myself was excruciating, since apparently some small part of me had been clinging to the belief that some day, Leo was going to fall in love with me. He was going to see me the same way I saw him, and he would realize that we really were meant to be together.

  That faith was beginning to waver, though. It died a little each time I saw Leo walk off the football field with his arm around one cheerleader or another, and when I heard stories passed around school about how Leo the Lion—that was his nickname on the team—was more accurately Leo the Lover.

  “You don’t want to see it, but that’s the way he acts. When you’re around, it’s not so bad, but when you’re not, he ignores me. Or worse.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what worse meant. Fortunately, we’d just reached my house, and I turned down my front walk. “Come on. Let’s sit down for a minute.”

  Kicking the leaves from the brick step at the edge of the porch, I sank down, dropping my books onto the ground next to me. Nate took a minute to hook his backpack on the railing, and I turned my back on him for a moment, pretending to check one of my notebooks, intentionally giving him some privacy as he joined me. Going from standing to sitting and back again was always a little bit of a process for Nate, and I knew it embarrassed him for me to sit gawking while he made it happen.

  Once I heard him exhale loudly, I knew it was my cue to shift attention back to him. I picked up the thread of our conversation while delicately skirting what he’d said last. “Nate, I’m not defending Leo. I think the way he treats us is shitty. I’m just saying, I don’t think he actually realizes it sometimes. He looked genuinely surprised and hurt today when I said he didn’t know me anymore.”

  “You said that to him?” Nate sounded both surprised and pleased.

  “Yep.” The errant strand of hair fell into my face again, but before I could blow it out of the way, Nate reached over and gently tucked it behind my ear. He trailed one finger over my jaw, just barely skimming the skin. I froze, painfully aware of how close he was sitting to me and the brush of his breath on my neck.

  It was getting more and more difficult to ignore the hints Nate dropped about his feelings toward me. More than once, he’d acted as though we were already a couple. Even this afternoon, when he’d stopped at the newspaper office, there had been an air of possessiveness that transcended our reality—that we were best friends, and nothing else. But until Nate actually made a move, I couldn’t very well tell him I didn’t feel the same way about him. And I didn’t want to hurt him—the very thought of that made my stomach clench and roll.

  So I fell back onto my old stand-by: ignore and deflect. With a half-laugh that sounded forced even to my own ears, I ran both hands over the top of my head, pulling back my hair and holding it in ponytail form.

  “God, I swear, this hair drives me nuts. I should just cut it all off.”

  “No way.” Nate shifted back, and if there was disappointment on his face, I chose to ignore it. “Your hair is so pretty.”

  “Oh, you’re sweet, Nate.” I rolled a hair band off my wrist and secured it over my hair. “Don’t worry. I don’t think I could ever get rid of it. I just like to complain about how much it bugs me.” I tightened the band and then scooted over just a little, so I could swivel and bend up my knee as I faced Nate.

  “Listen, I know Leo’s said and done some things that hurt you. And me, too. I’m not sticking up for him, but I’m not willing to make him our enemy either. We have too much history, the three of us. Our families have been friends since our moms were pregnant with us and in childbirth class together. We were each other’s first playmates. Every milestone we hit, we did it together. When I look at him, I try to see that boy instead of the football star. You know?”

  Nate shrugged, but his eyes never left my face. “It always was easier for you to forgive Leo. You’ve always been willing to think the best of him.”

  “I’d do t
he same for you.” I covered his hand where it rested on the warm brick of the porch.

  “I’d never put you in a position where you’d have to do that.” Nate pushed himself to his feet, teetering just slightly. He grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “I gotta go. See you tomorrow, Quinn.”

  I watched him walk down the block with his careful precision, never sparing me a backwards glance. I’d thought I was miserable after my spat with Leo at school—and I had been—but now, with both of them unhappy with me, everything in my world felt wrong.

  I buried my face in my hands and wished I could turn back time.

  Nate

  “Nate. Hello? Earth to Nathaniel. Your mother’s been talking to you for the last five minutes.”

  I glanced up from my plate. “What?”

  My parents exchanged a look I was all too familiar with: worry and anxiety thinly veiled with amusement. They were wondering if me being preoccupied meant something was brewing inside me, something that could threaten my health and possibly land me in the hospital for days. And of course, along with that concern came the fear that this could be a symptom that my disease was progressing. I knew it was what they dreaded. Hell, I did, too. I’d been maintaining for so long, rolling along on a careful regiment of meds, monitored exercise and an enforced eight hours of sleep each night. It would be easy to fall into the trap of complacency, but after seventeen plus years of battling this motherfucker, health was nothing I ever took for granted.

  “I’m fine.” I stressed the two words. “I feel great. Not hiding anything. I’m just in a bad mood. You guys have to remember I’m a teenager. Aren’t you, like, supposed to be ready for me being sullen and rude?”

  My dad nodded, his expression solemn. “Sher, this is the day we’ve been waiting for. Get out his baby book. Mark down the day. Our son is being a moody teenager.”

  “If you think this is a first, you haven’t been paying attention.” My mother shook her head and resumed eating. “He’s been surly and mopey before tonight.” She winked at me. “On occasion, of course.”

  “I must’ve missed that.” My dad took another serving of carrots, but I could feel his eyes on me. “Practice go okay today?”

  “It was canceled.” I dragged my fork through the white sauce my mom had made for the chicken.

  “He walked home.” My mom was trying to keep her tone casual, but I detected that underlying curiosity. “With Quinn, right?”

  “Yeah.” I pushed the plate away from me, my appetite gone. I knew that if I asked to be excused right now, it would only ramp up their worry. Instead, I leaned back in my chair, stretching out my legs beneath the table.

  “Hey, Sheri, don’t you have your chick meet up tonight? It’s almost seven.” My dad glanced at the clock on the microwave.

  “Crap.” My mother slid back her chair and jumped up. “I didn’t realize it was so late. Can you guys—”

  “We got clean up here. Go on, get going. Don’t forget the wine, and tell Lisa and Carrie I said hey.”

  “You two are my heroes.” Mom dropped a quick kiss on my dad’s lips, patted my shoulder, snagged a bottle of wine and her keys from the counter and dashed out the back door. My father grinned at me, shaking his head.

  “I swear that woman would be late to her own funeral.” He stood up, carrying his plate to the sink. “You cool to scrape and load if I clear and wipe?”

  “Sure.” That was our normal mode; any time I could stand still to do something, it worked out better for everyone.

  We handled the dishes in comfortable silence, until I couldn’t take it anymore. “Dad, can I ask you something?”

  “Ah, are you finally going to break down and ask me to teach you my killer dance moves?” He executed a spin in the middle of the kitchen floor, complete with jazz hands. It was the kind of stuff that cracked my mom up, and I just shook my head, sighing.

  “Sorry, no. How did you know Mom was the one?”

  He brought me two empty bowls and leaned a hip against the counter. “The one what?”

  “The one. You know. The one you wanted to marry. To love forever. Your soul mate, or whatever.” I ran a plate under the water.

  “Nate, you know, I’m not sure I believe in that stuff. The one? Like if I hadn’t met your mother, I’d never have fallen in love with anyone, ever, and I’d have been alone my whole life? No, I don’t buy that.” When I shot him an incredulous look, he laughed. “That doesn’t mean I don’t love your mom. I do. She’s awesome, and she’s hot.”

  “Dad. Ew. God, who wants to hear that?”

  “You asked, bud. Okay, I’m assuming you mean how did I fall in love with your mom.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “It was the way she stood.”

  That made no sense at all to me. “What do you mean?”

  “We were both working on a float for homecoming. My fraternity and her sorority were co-sponsoring it. I walked into this garage, down the college motor pool, and it was crowded with people milling around, drinking beer—hey, it was college.” Dad smirked. “Tons of people there, but I headed for the trailer where they were building the float. They had the chicken wire up already, and all these girls were stuffing it with tissue paper. Some of them were cute, but there was this chick standing off to the side, watching them, and she had her hands in the back pockets of her jeans—” He demonstrated. “And there was just something about the way she stood there. I’m not going to lie about it. A good part of her appeal was physical. I was twenty years old, and my first thought was, hey, I’d tap that.”

  “Dad, this isn’t what I was talking about.” I loaded the last glass into the dishwasher and closed the door. “I get that you thought Mom was a total babe. But how did you get the ba—the guts to do something about it?”

  “There wasn’t any choice. I couldn’t not walk over to her. I couldn’t stop myself from talking to her. It was a while before she took me seriously, but once she did, I was smart enough not to let her go. Not to screw it up, you know?”

  “Uh huh.”

  My father took the dish towel from my hand and folded it, draping the damp cloth over the handle of the dishwasher. “So. Quinn, huh?”

  “Hmmm?” I pretended to be occupied with brushing crumbs off the counter. “What about Quinn?”

  “Buddy, your mom and I might not be experts in many fields—well, okay, not in any. But we are very proficient in reading our only child. Mom’s been a little worried about your feelings for Quinn for quite a while.”

  My shoulders slumped. “Why?”

  Dad sighed and pulled out a chair, spinning it around to sit backward on it. I wondered if he realized how much I wished I could do the same, but I’d end up tangled up when my legs didn’t do what I needed them to do. I leaned against the sink instead.

  “Nate, like it or not, we’re always going to be protective parents. We gave up apologizing for that a long time ago, and we give each other a lot of credit for the areas where we’ve been able to give you a little latitude. Like crew. But don’t fool yourself—it isn’t easy. We’re always looking ahead to see where there may be danger spots for you. Risks.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “And Quinn is one of those.”

  When I began to protest, my father held up one hand. “Not on purpose. Your mom and I love that girl like she’s our daughter, and we know she loves you, too. But maybe . . . maybe not the same way you love her.”

  My face was flushed; I could feel the warmth spreading down my neck. “How do you know that? Maybe she does and she just doesn’t realize it yet.”

  “Nate.” Dad’s eyes locked on me. “Come on, son. One thing we’ve never done is lie to each other, right? I’m straight with you, and I expect you to be the same with me. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Quinn’s got it pretty bad for Leo.”

  My father was right. This wasn’t news to me. I’d realized that Quinn loved Leo when we were in eighth grade, probably even before she knew it herself. Every day since that time,
I’d waited for her to figure out that he was never going to return those feelings, but that I did. I held my breath for the moment when she looked at me and saw a guy who was going to love her with all he was for the rest of his life.

  But it didn’t happen. To Quinn, I was still just Nate, the kid she’d been sticking up for and championing as long as we could both remember. I’d fantasized about just yanking her into my arms and kissing her until she felt the truth. The only thing that stopped me was the fear that she’d kiss me back out of pity. Out of love for a friend, not out of passion.

  “He doesn’t deserve her.” The words, filled with bitterness and yes, jealousy, flew from my mouth. “He’s not even a good friend anymore. And he’s fucking anything in a skirt.” Any other time, I’d have been shocked at dropping the F-bomb in front of my father, but tonight, nothing mattered. What was he going to do? Ground me?

  But my dad didn’t even blink. He rubbed his forehead, frowning as he looked off into the distance, over my shoulder.

  “Leo’s feeling his oats, for sure. Lisa and Joe are a little worried about him. He’s been partying hard, and his grades are slipping. You know, Simon and Danny were pretty hot on the basketball court, but nothing like what Leo’s doing in football. Joe thinks he’ll get a full ride at any college he likes—providing he doesn’t screw it up.”

  “Which is just one more reason to keep Quinn away from him. He’d make her miserable.”

  “Or maybe she’d be the one to help him turn it all around. We don’t know. But that’s all out of our control, Nate. The only thing I can do in this situation is tell you to be careful. Don’t build up your hopes about Quinn, okay, son? You’re a terrific guy, and there’s a shit-ton of girls who’d love to date someone like you. Don’t tell your mom I said that.” He grinned, but it began to fade as soon as he realized I wasn’t smiling, too. “We don’t want to see you waste your high school years pining away after someone who just can’t return those feelings. Be Quinn’s friend, but please, accept that she’s never going to be more than that. Okay?”