Authors: David Levithan
I'll give you that, boy
I promise
I promise
to give you that
Throughout the song, Noah looks at me and looks at Zeke. When he looks at Zeke, I study him like you study a baby, waiting for its next expression. When he looks at me, I quickly look away. I cannot hold his glance, not until I know he's meaning for me to have it.
When the song is over, Noah smiles and applauds. Zeke bows slightly, then leads everyone back to the gym. I am the last one to go, watching Noah fade back behind his blinds. I walk slowly, wondering what to do next.
He catches up to me and touches my shoulder.
"You don't have to do this," he says.
I tell him I do.
"I'm showing you," I say.
"Okay," he says.
We leave it at that.
On the fifth day, I give him film.
I use money I've saved to buy twenty rolls of film, some of them black-and-white, some of them bright outdoor color. On the top of each container I write a word from a quote I'd found from an old photographer:
Whether looking to mountains or studying the shadow of a branch,
it is always best to keep your vision clear.
In order to give the film to Noah in a creative way, I need willing accomplices. Tony, Infinite Darlene, Amber, Emily, Amy, Laura, and Trilby are more than happy to help. Even my brother gets into the act, offering to be a delivery boy after I tell him my plan.
Each accomplice gives Noah the film in a unique way Tony starts it all off by calling Noah's cell phone and leaving a riddle that leads him to the first roll, which I've left sitting atop seat 4U in the school auditorium. Infinite Darlene makes fake-fur stoles for her containers and delicately hands them over throughout the day. Amber creates a Kodak-sized slingshot and fires the rolls into Noah's bag when he's not looking (and sometimes when he is). Emily and Amy draw faces on their canisters and give them to Noah as a family unit. Laura places the film in mysterious places where she knows Noah will find it (like stuck to the bottom of his desk). Trilby paints her canister the school colors. My brother, bless his heart, simply walks up to Noah and says, "Here, my brother wanted me to give you this." Perfect.
Even Ted offers to help. He still looks a little unsteady--rumor has it that he's looking for a rebound from his rebound. I've already distributed all the film, so I promise him he's my #1
sub if anyone falls through. Neither of us mentions Joni, but she's there in our every encounter.
It still feels strange not to have Joni on my side. (It's not that she's joined someone else's side
-- she's just left the field entirely.) I wonder if anyone's told her what's going on. I see her in the halls, always with Chuck, never really looking at me. At this time last year, she was helping me hang signs for the Dowager's Dance, telling me when I'd taped up the posters crooked and helping me fix them. If I could get a sense from her that she missed me -- or, at the very least, that she missed our past--.1 would feel better. But this total shutting off makes even the past seem sad and doomed.
On the sixth day, I write him letters.
I know I only have a day left. I know when he leaves me a note thanking me for the film that the time will soon come to talk to him, to see if I have a chance. But instead of confronting it right out, I decide to write him back. At first it starts as a note, telling him I'm sure he'll put the film to good use. Then it turns itself into a letter. I can't stop writing to him. I barely pay attention in any of my classes, pausing only to notice images and incidents that I can share with Noah in the letter. It isn't entirely different from when I was writing him notes in class, before everything happened. But it feels more intense. A note is an update or an entertainment. A letter is giving of a part of your life -- an insight into your thoughts beyond mere observations.
I finish the first letter. I bum an envelope off my guidance counselor and seal the pages inside.
Instead of relying on my friends, I deliver it to Noah myself. He seems a little surprised, but not un-receptive. I immediately start the second letter, beginning with the moment I handed him the first letter and what was going through my mind. Suddenly the whole week begins to explain itself--I am telling instead of showing, but that seems okay, since I've already tried to show so much.
I am writing my third letter to Noah in study hall when Kyle sits down across from me. Ever since the cemetery incident, he's dodged me. But now it's clear he wants to talk. I cover the letter I'm writing and say hello.
He's nervous.
"Look," he says, "I don't want it to be this way again."
"Neither do I."
"So what are we going to do?"
I realize at this moment that Kyle is brave, too. I want to be worth his courage.
"We're going to be cool with each other," I say carefully. "We're going to be friends. And I really mean that. Just because I don't think we'd be good together doesn't mean we have to be apart. Does that make sense?"
Kyle nods. "Yeah. The last couple of days I've been talking to Tony. But you probably know that. At first when he called, I thought, what's going on here? It was probably the first time he'd ever called me, except for the times you were over and he was calling for you. I didn't know what to say to him, and he totally understood that. We've been talking a lot now, and the funny thing is that part of me is glad that all this happened, because if I become friends with him and I'm really friends with you, then it's like the good coming out of the bad. And the bad isn't really that bad. I feel silly about the other day. I thought something was there that wasn't. But now maybe I think something's there that's actually there."
"It is," I tell him.
I can't let him know that the something he thought wasn't there wasn't
entirely
not there. I can't tell him that some of my feelings for him will always be unresolved, and that part of the desire to have him back in my life was to disprove all the reasons he left in the first place. I can't point out to him that right now I like him more than I did in the dowager's crypt--even though I'm not liking him in the way that he wanted me to (Noah has the monopoly on that), I
am
liking him enough to know that a different time and a different place might have led to a different outcome. But since I'm not planning on leaving this time or place anytime soon, it's not a point worth making.
We start talking about the dance some more. Now that the awkwardness has lifted, Kyle's going to start showing up again at our committee and help with the final architecture.
When Kyle's gone, I finish my third letter to Noah. The fourth I slip into his hand
as
he leaves school. The fifth is the one I take home with me, saving it for the next day.
Instinct and Proof
On the seventh day, I give him me.
I do this by going over and saying hi. I do this by dissolving the distance between us. I do this not knowing how he'll react. Perhaps this will be the one thing that I give to him that he returns.
I find him in the morning because I don't think I can wait until the afternoon. He hasn't even hit his locker yet--I wait for him on the school steps, the morning light still new. He sees me and I walk over. I hand him my fifth letter and say hello. The envelope is green. When he holds it up, it brings out the green of his eyes.
"Paul. . .," he begins.
"Noah. . ." I begin.
"I don't know what to say." The tone of his voice is more
I
don't know what to say because
I'm speechless
instead of
I
don't know what to say because you're not going to like what I
have to say.
This is a good sign.
"You don't need to say anything."
We sit down next to each other on the steps. Other kids walk into the school around us.
"Thanks for the letters. I re-read them all last night."
I imagine him in his wonderful room. I'm glad my words have been there, even if I've been banished.
"I wanted to write you back," he continues. "But then I decided to do something else instead."
He pulls an envelope out of his bag and hands it to me. My hands are shaking a little when I open it. Inside I find four photographs. They are snapshots from our town, flashes from the night. Each one is a single word, but I am so familiar with the town that I can tell where they come from as well as what they say.
From the sign outside the Jewish Community Center:
wish
From a Lotto advertisement outside the stationery store:
you
From the inscription on the cemetery gates:
were
And then, the last photo -- Noah reflected in a mirror he's placed in his studio. One hand holds the camera to his eye. The other is holding a sheet of construction paper, with a single word written on it.
Here.
I look at these images and it's like they're the only thing I've ever wanted. How could he know that?
"Serendipity," he says. "I was up all night developing. I took photos of a hundred words, and these were the ones I wanted. That's what my instinct told me."
"And what's your instinct telling you to do now?" I ask him. I feel entirely undeserving.
There's a pause.
Then he says, "It's telling me to ask you to the dance on Saturday."
I twinkle. "So what are you going to do?"
"Do you want to go with me to the dance on Saturday?"
"I'd love to. It's not that kind of dance--people don't have to ask dates or anything--but I would love to be your date anyway." I can't leave it at that. I have to add, "I'm sorry about everything."
And he looks at me and says, "I know."
"I've missed you so much," I say, reaching up to touch his face.
He leans in and kisses me once. He says he's missed me, too.
I know this is right. I know he's not going to be amazing all the time, but there's more amazingness in him than in anyone else I've known. He makes me want to be amazing, too.
I float through the day. Of course everybody who helped me out over the past week wants to know how it ended up. All they need to do is take one look at me and they know.
"Way to go!" Amber cheers.
Ted punches me on the shoulder. It hurts, but I know he means well.
Infinite Darlene says, "Don't mess it up again, honey."
I tell her I won't.
I swear that I won't.
Even Kyle hears. He doesn't say anything to me about it, but when we pass in the hall he gives me a silent nod of approval.
After school, I meet up with Noah and we head to the I Scream Parlor. He gets a blood-red sundae while I get the sorbet with gummi worms in it. He tells me what's been going on with him (his parents were in and are now back out of town), and I tell him what's been going on with me. I tell him about the whole Joni saga, and about what Tony's been through.
"We should go over there, cheer him up," Noah suggests.
"Are you sure?" I ask. It's not like he and Tony are friends, really.
"Yeah. We have to stick together, right?"
"Absolutely."
We call my brother, who's more than happy to take us to Tony's. (He also seems happy that I'm with Noah; I didn't know Jay had it in him.)
Tony's on the phone with Kyle when we get there. Caught up in the happiness of things, I almost tell Tony to invite him over. Then I realize what a colossally awkward move that would be (with Noah there) and keep my big mouth shut.
Even though Tony's parents aren't home, we stick to the kitchen. This works well, because we're all in high snacking gear. If we'd been stranded in the dining room, we'd be in big trouble.
"I have some news," Tony tells us. I love how he's welcomed Noah as if it's natural for him to be here. I love how Noah fits right in.
"What's your news?"
"I want to go to the Dowager's Dance."
This is news. Last year, Tony's parents wouldn't let him go.
"Great," Noah says. "You can come with us."
Tony sighs. "It's not that easy. You see, my parents say I can't go. But I want to go anyway. I don't want to sneak out--that would be a bad scene."
"So what are you--what are
we
going to do?" I ask.
"Here's the thing. I figure if enough people come to pick me up -- if my parents see it's a whole big group of girls and guys--then maybe they'll let me go."
"Sounds like a plan," I say. "We can gather everyone up."
"I'm in," Noah volunteers.
"As am I. Jay can drive us. I'm sure we can get Laura and Emily and Amy and Amber--"
"Who's Amber?" Tony asks.
I've forgotten how new Amber is to my life.
"She's this girl on the committee. You'll love her."
"Oh yeah--Kyle's told me about her."
I have to ask. "So will Kyle come, too?"
Tony nods. "He's in."
"And Joni?"
Now Tony's look wavers.
"I don't know," he says.
"Have you asked her?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
"She wants to. . .."
"But?"
"I don't think Chuck wants to."
"I don't see what one thing has to do with the other," I say. But of course I do. I know exactly what's going on, and it makes me furious. I am so angry at Joni right now. Words can't describe it. I don't mind her dissing me. Dissing Tony is beyond excuse.
I know Tony will feel even worse if I show him how bothered I am. So I start talking about the dance itself. Noah reaches into his book bag and takes out some of the photos he took in the cemetery. They are extraordinary--spooky but in a spiritual way. I can tell Tony's as impressed as I am. At one point when Noah has to go to the powder room (we figure this is allowed, even if it isn't in the kitchen), Tony gives me this all-knowing look and smiles.
"It's all because of you," I say. "You told me to show him and I did. Honestly, I wouldn't have trusted myself to do it if you hadn't suggested it."
"It was all you," he says back. "And was it worth it?"
I nod as Noah comes back into the room.
"What?" Noah asks, sensing he's walking into the middle of a conversation.