Authors: Katie Klein
"They were really happy for us," she says, smiling. "I mean, they knew it was coming. We were actually thinking it would happen at Christmas. In fact, they want to throw us an engagement party this spring, but I don't think Chris is interested."
"I didn't say I wasn't interested," I explain. "I said it was a bad time for me."
Wait, did Callie say they were expecting a proposal at
Christmas?
"There will always be conflicts, Chris," Mom reminds me. "In your line of work..."
"Let the boy do his job, Meg," Dad interrupts.
"I'm sure he can get away for one night..."
I reach for my drink, tuning them out. Between Callie and the wedding and Dad and my job....
Frozen pizza in an empty apartment never sounded more appealing.
I don't want to risk running into Jaden or her boyfriend, so I ask for the pass in third period and move quickly down the hallway—past that long row of lockers. It's so easy for me to rationalize this away. We have a project to do. We have to work on it, right?
Truth is, I want to see her.
I scan the numbers.
One hundred and fifty-seven.
One hundred and fifty-seven.
When I reach her locker I pull on the handle and there she is, gazing back at me, smiling.
With Blake.
I suppress the urge to blacken his face with my Sharpie.
I set the card—
Library: 3:00?—
on the shelf and close the door quickly, before the devil on my shoulder prevails and I do something I might regret later.
Might
regret.
I stop at my own locker just before lunch. I'm changing out books for the last periods of the day when I see her. I shut the door and merge into the crowd, moving closer, then break free, leaning against a wall between two classroom doors—far enough away to remain inconspicuous.
When she opens her locker, she immediately breaks into a grin. Lifts the card. Reads the words. But then Blake is there, right behind her. She slams the door shut, spins on her heel, turning to face him.
My jaw smarts, tightening.
Pretentious asshole.
Should've blackened his face, anyway. Sent them
both
a message.
*
*
*
I'm already waiting for her at our table in the library when she arrives. I don't immediately notice the frown she's wearing, only the brown boots that reach her knees, with a heel that leaves her towering over me.
Sexy as hell.
I greet her with a single word. "Winter."
She tosses her bookbag to the floor, her jacket to the table and pulls out a chair and sits down, leaving only one empty space between us. "I hate winter," she grumbles. "What about it?"
That's when I notice the tired eyes, cheeks that could use some sun, but I'm too proud of this discovery. This connection. The realization that everything bad that will happen to Ethan occurs on miserable, winter days.
"It's crucial. Everything that happens takes place during the winter."
A long stretch of sunless cold.
"Winter sucks."
"Exactly," I reply.
She sighs deeply, removing her notebook from her bag. "I'm not following. Are you talking about now or the book?"
Something about her tone—the frustration in it—is unsettling. This isn't normal Jaden behavior. I can deal with perky Jaden. I can even deal with the annoyed, argumentative Jaden. It's already proven I have no idea what to do with a sad one. And my first thought is that something happened between her and Blake. That he found the note I left her. That he said something to upset her. That they broke up.
My next thought?
Good.
"What's up with you?" I ask, trying not to sound too concerned.
"Nothing...it's just...one of those days." The response is so vague that I'm no better off than before. I don't know if it's Blake or Savannah or a teacher. But I follow her gaze to the dark, bleak sky, anyway—the clouds hanging low outside the window, to see what, exactly, one of "those days" looks like.
"Anyway," she continues, "I have this thing against winter. It's like...after Christmas life stops or something. There's nothing to look forward to. The days are short and cold...it never snows here. It's just...my least favorite season, that's all. It depresses me."
I lean back in my seat, arms folding, amused. "You mean to tell me that Jaden McEntyre gets
depressed
?"
Her cheeks flush pink, the hint of an embarrassed smile playing at her lips. "Sometimes, believe it or not, yes. I get depressed."
"No way. I never would've guessed. You've got that whole 'life is perfect come save the world with me' act down pat. Who'd have thought you could use some therapy?" I tease.
Her brows furrow, drawing together, the smile vanishing. "Shut up. It's not an act. And I don't need therapy. It's important to think about things bigger than yourself—to try to make a difference. You only get one chance, you know? Why not do everything you can while you've got it?"
"You say that like there's something bigger and better out there."
She shrugs. "So what's your deal with winter? Are we talking about me or Ethan?"
"Actually," I begin, "I was talking about Ethan...and winter."
"What about it?"
"Well, it's a central element to the novel. I mean, think about it. It's cold, business is bad, Zeena is sick. Everything is moving at a snail's pace. He's kind of like you in that sense. Who
wouldn't
be depressed?"
Mattie is all the man has, and he can't even have her.
I don't say this out loud, but she gets it.
"Everything is so much worse because it's cold and dark and problems seem never-ending," she confirms.
"And didn't Ethan say if his mother would've died in the spring he would have never married Zeena?" I remind her.
She ponders this for a moment before a bright smile lights her face. "Parker, you're fairly brilliant," she says, writing in her notebook. She scribbles furiously at first, then slows, the smile all but disappearing. Her pen stops. She stares at her paper—not even at her paper, but past it. A million miles away. Lost. Thinking.
She pales, color draining from her cheeks. I'm about to ask if she's okay when...
"Oh my God."
"What is it?"
She gasps, covers her mouth with her hand. "Ohmigod." She pulls her hair away from her face and closes her eyes tightly. "Tell me today's not Thursday," she whispers.
"Um, yeah. It's Thursday."
"Oh my God!" she cries.
The librarian shushes us from across the room. I glare at her, part of me wanting to jump over that desk and shove every last book she's checking in to the floor. But Jaden is already on her feet, grabbing her coat and her bag and her purse.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"I missed my meeting!"
"What meeting?
"
She shoves notes into her bookbag, wrinkling them, rushed.
"At the elementary school. We're raising money for the library and I'm in charge. Jesus! How could I let this
happen
? I never forget
anything
!
"
I struggle to connect the pieces. She missed a meeting? To work on a school project?
"I think you're being a little hard on yourself.
"
"No. I'm not. You don't sign up to do something and then bail on everyone. People are
counting
on me,
"
she replies, voice laced with a mix of panic and anger.
Holy shit. Is she freaking out?
Jaden McEntyre is freaking out on me.
Over a meeting. How is this even possible? She does more at this school than anyone I've ever seen. I'm sure she's overlooked
something
before now. This can't be the first meeting she's missed—the first thing she's forgotten. No one is that perfect.
I check the clock on the wall above the door. And she has to get to the elementary school? There's no way. "Well there's no point going now. It'll be over by the time you get there.
"
"Thank you for conveying the obvious,
"
she snaps.
Shit
.
Did she just
yell
at me?
I take a deep breath, lean back in my seat, and try to rationalize with her. "Look, Jaden. It's one meeting. It's not the end of the world.
"
There's this saying:
if looks could kill....
If looks could kill, I am dead. As of this moment. I have been cast into Hell—withering under icy green eyes like none I have ever seen. "Maybe not to you, but it's the end of
my
world. I don't miss meetings. I don't sign up to do something and not follow through. I'm
better
than that.
"
"Please keep your voice down,
"
the librarian says.
"I
am
keeping my voice down,"
she hisses.
Shit.
Did she just yell at the
librarian
?
When she turns back to me, her eyes are glistening. Tears—angry tears—fill her eyes, her entire world falling apart.
Guilt jams my throat, forcing it closed.
I'm the one who wanted to meet. I'm the one who put that note in her locker. I
wanted
to see her.
I stand, moving closer. "Jaden,
" I beg.
"I have to go,
" she says, voice breaking between words.
"We can do this tomorrow. At my house. I'll, um...I'm
really
sorry.
"
She hurries to the exit. Disappears. The door clicks shut behind her. I fight the urge, forcing myself to stay still—to not bolt after her. If I could convince her to let me drive, she might get to her meeting a little faster. If I could go back in time, I would've never....
I stand there, frozen, thinking a hundred things I could've said. That I should've said. Something that would've made a difference.