I felt like I was smothering. Quinn hated Trish. I knew that. Trish was always a bitch to her. And then abruptly, I had a flash of memory of Trish at Matt’s house the night before. I saw her through the haze of booze, lifting her shirt up to display her impressive rack. And she was asking me if I wanted to do my next shot off her tits.
I’d said no. I was sure I had. God, I hoped I had.
I stood up. “You know what, Nate? Get out. Go home. Get the hell out of my house. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re jealous because Quinn loves me. You’re jealous because it’s me she wants. I got there first, and it’s killing you, isn’t it? Well, fuck you, Nate. You don’t know shit.”
“I know Quinn. I know you’re forcing her to change. For once in your life, Leo, think of someone other than yourself. Do this for Quinn.” He hesitated. “Quinn didn’t tell you about the scholarship from Evans, did she?”
I searched my memory. It sounded a little familiar, but . . . “I don’t know. I guess not.”
“Ms. Nelson, the newspaper advisor, nominated Quinn for the scholarship. It’s huge, and it’s prestigious. If she won it, she’d get a full ride to Evans, for their journalism and media program.”
I remembered now. Evans was a small, exclusive college in Massachusetts, and when Quinn had mentioned it and the scholarship, I’d remarked that they didn’t even have a football team.
Maybe Nate had a point about my selfishness.
“It’s not too late, is it? For her to get the scholarship? I’ll tell her—”
“She didn’t want you to know. She’s turning down the nomination, because Evans isn’t anywhere near the schools you’re looking at.” Nate’s lip curled. “No decent football schools in the area.”
I covered my eyes with one hand. “Fuck.”
“You need to think about her future. Not just how it relates to yours.” Nate’s voice softened. “Quinn used to be this quirky, happy person who didn’t care what people thought of her. She was . . . just her. And now she’s not. It’s like I said, Leo. You ruined her.”
“That’s bullshit, Nate. I love her. I’d never—”
The front door slammed, and we both turned as my dad came in. “Boys.” He frowned at both of us, and I thought distractedly that he looked tired. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Nate’s just leaving.” I walked toward the door, and after a minute, Nate followed.
Just before I slammed the door behind him, he turned back for a minute. “Think about it, Leo. If you love her like you say you do, if you want her to be happy . . . think about it. In the long run, what’s the kinder thing to do?” He gazed at me, eyes steady, and then stepped awkwardly down the steps of our porch.
“What was all that about?” My dad was in the kitchen when I went in, opening and closing cabinets at random. It was his nightly ritual; I suspected he thought one night he might come home to find a meal magically prepared. We’d eaten so much pizza and Chinese takeout since my mom had been in the hospital that just thinking about that food made me queasy.
I dropped into a chair. “Nate thinks I should break up with Quinn. He says I’m not making her happy.”
“Ah.” My father nodded.
“That’s all you have to say?”
Dad sighed and sat down across from me. “Leo, son, I’m not surprised Nate thinks that. Matter of fact, I’m only surprised it took him this long to say it. And I’m sorry that he thinks you’re not making Quinn happy.”
“But . . .?”
My father smiled a little. “But. But I’ve been planning to talk with you for a while about Quinn and what you planned to do. Listen, Leo. I like Quinn. Hell, I love her like the daughter you were supposed to be.” He smirked at his own joke. “And I know you kids think you’re in love. But you’re young. God, you’re so damn young. You, particularly, have the kind of future ahead of you that would make maintaining a long-term relationship at this point . . . difficult, if not impossible. You’ll end up putting stress on yourself and on Quinn that neither of you needs. And in the end, the result might be a lot messier and more painful that it would be to just end it now.”
Panic gripped me. “But I don’t want to break up with Quinn, and she doesn’t want to break up with me.”
Dad cocked his head. “That’s what you tell yourself, but I’ve noticed a change in you lately. And if I notice it, you can be damn sure Quinn does. I think maybe there’s a part of you that already knows what you have to do, and that part is making decisions to force the issue.”
My throat was tight. “So you think—what do you think I should do?”
My dad got to his feet and patted my shoulder. “I’m not going to tell you that, son. I think you’re smart enough to figure it out.” He paused before he left the room.
“But I’m here if you need me. Remember that.”
***
I didn’t sleep well that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Quinn’s face. I heard her voice. I felt her body under mine.
And then I heard Nate’s words, and my father’s, too. I wanted to stop hearing them. I wanted to forget what they’d said. They were both wrong, I knew they were. They had to be. Quinn and I were right together. We belonged with each other. We’d both made that clear.
But I thought about what my dad had said. College was going to be hard. College football was going to be a full-time job, if I wanted to get into the pros. How would I juggle that along with making Quinn happy, if I couldn’t even manage to do that when we were only in high school?
And Quinn wanted to be a writer, wanted to be a journalist. Was I justified in denying her that chance, just because I needed to go to a college that would help funnel me into the pros? She could still study journalism wherever we went to school, and I was sure that was what she’d tell me if I brought up the scholarship. But we’d both know that she’d be giving up something huge. For me.
Everything went around in my head, until the sun rose. By then, I’d given up. I knew what I had to do. It was going to kill me, but I knew I had to do it.
***
I walked into the school the next morning, feeling oddly removed. Everything around me seemed far away, and not quite real. People spoke to me, but I had trouble responding. I was only focused on getting through the day.
I hadn’t heard from Quinn, and I hadn’t texted her again. I made a point of avoiding her during the school day; I came in a little late, I didn’t go to the cafeteria at lunch, and I went right to practice after school.
After practice, I didn’t stop to chat with anyone. I walked down the hallway, straight to the newspaper office and stuck my head inside.
Quinn was there, of course, sitting with Jake and Gia and two other people I knew only vaguely. They all looked up when they saw me. Quinn’s eyes brightened for a moment and then shuttered, as though she’d remembered our last conversation.
“Hey, Quinn. You got a minute?” I couldn’t believe how normal my voice sounded.
She frowned and then nodded slowly. “Yeah. Sure.” She stood up and walked toward the door, following me as I moved down the hall a little way, far enough from the office that no one would overhear us.
I’d put a lot of thought into where I was going to do this. I’d heard of guys who planned out proposals with such precision, who chose the spot where they’d first kissed or had their first date. I could imagine that the place was important, because years later, they’d remember—that was where our real life together began. Place was important.
It mattered to me that I didn’t ruin any place that was special to Quinn. For the sake of privacy, I’d considered the playground, the place where I’d given into her and to myself, where we’d become us, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sully that memory.
So here we were, in a nondescript hallway of the high school we’d be leaving in about a year. This was where I was going to say the words I didn’t mean, where I was going to break her heart. Where I was going to end us.
“What’s up?” She was still pissy from the spat we’d had the other day, and that worked in my favor. If she’d come to me with smiles and kisses, I’d have lost my nerve, for sure. But she stood there, arms over her chest, scowling.
I still wanted to kiss her senseless, but it was easier to keep my distance when she looked prickly.
“Quinn, listen.” I mirrored her pose, arms folded. “I’ve been thinking. And the thing is, this isn’t working.” I sounded so calm. No one would ever guess how much this was hurting me.
Her forehead wrinkled. “What isn’t working?”
“This.” I pointed at her and then at myself. “You and me. We gave it a good shot. It was fun for a while. But the reality is, I’ve got big plans. I need to focus on football, on getting into the right college, and even then, when I’m there, my whole life is going to be about football. I want to play in the pros. That’s my dream. I can’t have any distractions.”
Realization was beginning to dawn on her. I could see it in her face. “And I’m a distraction?”
I sighed, as though I was dealing with a small child. “Honestly, yes. I know that sounds cruel, but it’s the truth. And you don’t understand me. You don’t understand what I need, what my life is going to be . . . you’re not a good fit, Quinn.” There it was. The brutal cut, the one that would make her hate me.
She took one step forward, stopped, and lifted her hands to her mouth, covering it. Her chest was moving up and down rapidly. “You don’t really mean this, Leo. We had a fight. We’ll get over it. We need to talk—”
“No, we really don’t.” I shook my head. “This isn’t about a fight. This is about . . . both of us getting on with life. You’re not like me, Quinn, and I’m not like you. We were friends in grade school, but then we grew apart. That was natural, and when we tried to force it—it was fine for a while, but it’s not a long-term thing.”
Her face was wet now with tears streaming from her eyes. “You’re serious. You’re ending us.”
“Yes.” I couldn’t speak any louder than I did. And when she turned, her face in her hands as her back shook with sobs, I knew I had to get out of there, fast, before I dropped to my knees and begged her to forget what I’d said. Begged her to forgive me. Begged her to love me forever, no matter what.
“I’ll see you around, Quinn. I hope . . . well, I hope you can be happy.”
“Happy? You hope I’m happy? You just destroyed my life, and threw everything I ever said to you back in my face, and you hope I’m fucking happy? Fuck you, Leo. Fuck you.” She spun around again, and I fled, sprinting down the hall and out the nearest doors I could find. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Every fiber of me screamed out how wrong this was and told me to go back and tell her the truth.
But I couldn’t, because I loved her too much.
I got to my car and lifted my phone with trembling hands. “It’s me. I’m coming over. For the love of God, have something strong waiting for me. And line them up. It’s going to be a long night.”
Quinn
The crazy thing was, life went on.
I wasn’t sure it would, or that I could. I left the school that day, walked home—I’d walked to school that morning, since Leo hadn’t texted about picking me up—and I locked myself in my room. I cried until my eyes were too swollen to see out of. When my mother knocked on my door to tell me dinner was ready, I told her I didn’t feel well and didn’t want to eat. That was understandable, given that I’d claimed food poisoning the day before. When she pushed the issue, worried, I claimed killer cramps, which I knew would buy me as much alone time as I needed.
I slept badly that night, when I did sleep. Since the next day was Saturday, I didn’t have to go to school. I had another two days to hide and figure out what my life was going to look like now.
Once the shock wore off and the tears had stopped, I came to a few decisions. I wasn’t going to tell my mom and dad what had really happened. I couldn’t. I loved Lisa and Mark, and I didn’t want my parents to feel awkward around their friends, particularly when Lisa needed all her friends so much right now. I’d handle it casually. We’d decided to take a break. We needed space. That was all. If they guessed the truth, well, there wasn’t anything I could do about that. I didn’t think Leo would say much to his own parents.
I wasn’t sure I could sell it, but I was damn sure going to try. I couldn’t stand the idea of everyone feeling sorry for me, for poor Quinn who got dumped by Leo. I didn’t want to see my parents to think less of him, either. I wasn’t sure why that mattered to me, but it did.
I finally went downstairs at lunchtime on Saturday. My parents were already at the table, eating subs, and they looked up at me in surprise.
“You okay, honey?” My mom pushed out a chair with her foot. “Feeling better?”
“Mostly.” I sat down. “Look, I’m going to tell you both something, and I don’t want either of you to freak out or make it a big deal, okay? I’m fine with it, and you should be, too.”
They exchanged alarmed glances, and I imagined what my words must’ve sounded like, especially when I’d been sick the day before. They were going to think the worst. I hurried to go on.
“Leo and I decided to take a break. We’re not . . . together anymore. I’m fine, so is he, everyone can still be friends. But we’re not dating. Not anymore.”
My mother let out a long breath. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry.”
“Mom.” I held up a hand. “I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want sympathy. I don’t need to eat chocolate ice cream and listen to Alanis Morissette. I’m fine. Now let’s just move on, all right?”
There was a beat of silence, and then she nodded. “All right. We understand.”
“Good.” I stood up. “I’m going over to see Nate. I’ll be back for dinner.”
***
If Nate had been able to break into a happy dance without falling over, I was sure he would have when I told him that Leo and I had broken up.
He tried to keep the look of sympathy and sadness on his face, but he’d never been very good at hiding his emotions. Finally, I threw up my hands.
“Nate, I know you’re glad Leo and I broke up. That’s fine. You have your reasons. But I can’t deal with those right now, okay? I need some time. I need you to pretend for a little while that you understand why I’m sad. Can you do that?”
“Of course.” He touched my hand. “What can I do?”
I thought about it for a minute. “You can watch Buffy with me. Season two, after Angel turns. And don’t make fun of it. And if I cry, you just hand me tissues and don’t make comments.”
That’s how we spent the rest of Saturday. I let Buffy be my substitute, and I cried for her pain and loss, because it was easier to do that than to cry about my own any more.
When we finished the final episode of season two, I wiped my eyes and stretched. “Now there was a girl who knew how to kick ass and get over heartache, huh?”
“By sending her boyfriend to hell?”
“Whatever does the trick.” I stood up. “Okay, I need to get home. I told my parents I’d be there for dinner.”
Nate stood with me. “Want me to walk you home?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. I’ll see you on Monday. Should I pick you up for school?”
“Uh, sure. But Quinn . . .” He took a deep breath. “I know my timing sucks. But I feel like I need to tell you this, or I might not get another chance. I might not get up the nerve again.”
I groaned. “Nate, please don’t.”
“I have to. Quinn, I love you. I’ve wanted to be more than friends for . . . well, since junior high. I’ve been waiting for you to notice. For it to be the right time. But I think we could be good together. I’d never treat you like—”
“Stop.” I growled the word through gritted teeth. “Just stop, Nate. I can’t do this. Not now. You’re my friend, and I need you to be that. Nothing else. Please. Can we please just do that?”
I thought he might push me, but after a moment, he nodded. “All right, for now. But you’ll keep it in mind? You’ll remember, in case things change? Once you’re over Le—everything, you might feel differently.”
“I won’t.” I tried to sound definite without being hurtful. “I’m sorry, Nate.”
“You don’t know that. Right now, you’re upset. But when you’re not, maybe . . .”
“Sure, Nate. Whatever you say.” I kissed his cheek. “See you Monday.”
***
I got through dinner with my parents and managed to keep my shit together until I could convincingly say I was tired and wanted to get ready for bed. Pretending that everything was fine was exhausting, so that wasn’t much of a stretch.
I’d just changed into sweats when there was a knock at my bedroom door. I called out an invitation, and my dad stuck his head into the room.
“Hey, sweetie. Got a minute?”
I shrugged. “I guess. I’m really tired, though, Dad.”
“Yeah, I know. I just wanted to say . . .” He leaned against the door frame. “I’m proud of you, honey. I get the feeling there’s more to what happened with Leo, and you could’ve made a big deal of it. But you’re thinking of other people. You don’t want to get between us and the Taylors, am I right?”
I sat down on the end of my bed. “Does it matter, Daddy? It is what it is. Leo—” Those stupid tears threatened again. I’d thought I was all cried out after Buffy. “He’s made his decision, and I’m moving on. Like we all should.”
“Hmm.” He nodded. “Teenaged boys are notorious for being idiotic and short-sighted. I sure was. But I’m not convinced that’s what Leo’s doing here. Not that it’s going to change anything, but maybe someday, it might help for you to remember Leo a little more kindly, if you realize you might not understand all his reasons right now.”
I snorted. “I don’t want to remember Leo at all, Dad. I’ll see him when I have to, until we graduate, and then I never want to hear his name again.” I hunched my back over my knees. “Boys are jerks. Do you know, I went over to Nate’s today for a little bit of distraction, and he actually tried to tell me that he’s in love with me? Why would anyone do that? God.”
The Keeping Score Box Set Page 28
