Читать книгу Another Day - Дэвид Левитан, Рэйчел Кон, David Levithan - Страница 7

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Mom is up before me, as usual, in the same place at the kitchen table. It’s like she thinks Dad or I will steal her seat if she doesn’t beat us to it – and if she loses the seat, where will she spend the rest of the day?

“You look nice,” she tells me. Which would be a compliment, if she didn’t sound suspicious.

I don’t tell her that I made sure to look nice because it’s the one-day anniversary of everything getting better. She’d shoot that down real quick.

“I have to give a report,” I tell her. “In class.”

I know she’s not going to ask me what report, or what class.

Eager. I want to get to school as soon as possible, to see him. I hope he’s feeling the same way over at his house. I could text him and ask, but if things are going to change, then I can change, too. I don’t need to know everything all the time.

Mom and I say more to each other, but neither of us is really listening. I want to go, and she wants to stay. It’s the story of our lives.

I have to take the bus because my car is still at school. I could ask Rebecca or someone else to drive me, but then I would have to spend the whole ride talking about things instead of thinking about them.

His car isn’t there when my bus gets in. In fact, he doesn’t show up until almost everyone else has pulled in.

But this time he notices me waiting. Walks over. Says good morning.

I am trying hard not to barrage him with happiness. It’s still early in the morning. He’s barely awake.

“Sure you don’t want to run away?” I ask. Just to pull a little bit of yesterday into today.

He looks confused. “Are you serious?” he asks.

“No,” I tell him. “But a girl can dream, right?”

“Whatever.” He starts walking, assuming I’ll fall in step right beside him. Which I do.

I get it. Kind of. Since it’s not like we’re going to do it again today, it’s probably best not to think of it as an option. Otherwise, whatever we do today will feel pathetic in comparison.

I reach for his hand.

He doesn’t take it.

“What’s gotten into you?”

Yesterday, I want to tell him. But from the way he looks straight ahead, I figure now’s not the right time.

He doesn’t even wait to hear my answer to his question.

He just keeps moving.

I tell myself it’s not Angry Justin. It’s Lost Justin. It has to be.

When you picture someone lost, it’s usually in someplace like the woods. But with Justin, I imagine a classroom. It’s not that he has a learning disability or anything. That would be a good reason. But no. He’s just bored. So he doesn’t keep up with what’s going on. And it only gets worse, and he only gets more lost, which only makes him hate it more.

I am trying to stay on the beach. As the teachers talk and as Justin and I barely say hello between first and second period, I am reminding myself what it was like. I am turning my mind into a time machine, because I need to.

I know Rebecca’s going to pin me down third period, when we’re sitting next to each other in art. And that’s exactly what she does.

“Where were you?” she whispers. “What happened?”

Art is one of the only classes we have together, because my school likes to keep the smart kids away from the not-smart kids, as if being in class with me might hurt Rebecca’s test scores. In art, some of the not-smart kids get their revenge. I like that it gives me and Rebecca a chance to be together.

Mr K has put a car engine at the front of the room, and has asked us to draw it in charcoal. He always says we’re not supposed to talk while we’re working, but as long as we’re not too loud and we’re getting our work done, he doesn’t really mind.

Rebecca’s engine is turning out worse than mine, and I feel bad that this makes me feel better.

I tell her that Justin and I escaped to the beach. I tell her it was an in-the-moment thing, and that it was wonderful.

“You should have asked me and Ben to come along,” she says.

Ben is her boyfriend. He’s smart, too. Justin doesn’t like him at all.

“Next time,” I tell her. We both know it’ll never happen, but we’re okay with that. Our friendship doesn’t need her to skip school, and it doesn’t need Ben and Justin to get along. She and I have enough history that we don’t need to make a whole lot happen in the present to be close.

“Wasn’t it cold?” she asks.

“Too cold to swim,” I say. “But warm enough to be there.”

She nods. Whatever I say to her usually makes sense.

I’m just leaving out some of the details.

I wonder if I’m supposed to meet him at his locker like yesterday. But lunchtime habit takes me to the cafeteria first, and there he is, at our usual spot.

“Hey,” I say.

He nods. I sit down.

“Has anyone said anything to you about yesterday?” I ask. “I mean, you haven’t gotten into any trouble, have you?”

He dips a French fry into some ketchup. That’s all he’s having for lunch.

“It’s all good, I think,” he says. “You?”

“Rebecca was curious. But that’s it so far.”

“Rebecca? Curious? Now there’s a shocker.”

“She said next time she and Ben want to go driving with us.”

“I’m not sure Ben would let us inside his Mercedes. We’d have to take our shoes off first.”

This one time, we went over to Ben’s house and he asked all of us to take off our shoes before we came inside. Justin and I found that hysterical. “Doesn’t he know that our socks are much nastier than our shoes?” Justin asked. It became one of our jokes.

“Don’t say anything to Rebecca,” I make Justin promise. He pretends to be zipping his lips. I relax.

I go and get my lunch, and when I come back, Rebecca and some other friends are at the table, so Justin and I are part of the big conversation instead of having our own. When the bell rings, I ask him if he can do something after school, and he says no, he has to work. He says it like I should have his work schedule memorized. But Target sends the email to him, not me.

I do not point this out. Instead, I remind myself that I am lucky I don’t have to work yet. I remind myself that Justin hates his job. I remind myself that yesterday was all about a choice, but not every day allows us to make our own choices.

The important thing is that when he had a chance, he chose me. And I have to hope that next time, he’ll choose me again.

He texts me when he gets home from work. Two words.

Long day.

I text him back one word.

Yeah.

Patterns. The next day, I think about patterns. Or, really, I think about ups and downs. I am used to ups and downs. Monday, when we were at the beach, was an up. I can see that.

But now – it’s neither an up nor a down. It’s like we’ve disappeared from the chart.

He’s not mad at me. I can feel that. But his love has gone passive.

I don’t understand. And there’s no one to talk to about it. Not Justin. Every time I mention the beach, it’s like it never happened. Not Rebecca. If I told her more, it might sound crazier than it really is. Not my mom. She and I don’t talk about ups or downs, as a way of not having them.

I know what he and I had on Monday is worth fighting for. But I have no one to fight, so I turn on myself instead.

I know I wasn’t imagining things.

But I seem to have been sent back to my imagination now.