Moving Neutral (29 page)

I looked around the room, stunned with relief. No matter how broken I felt, my parents would manage to get me to college, stocked and packed like a regular freshman who hadn’t had the best and worst summer of her life. Complete with mouthwash and pencil sharpeners and toothpaste. Looking around the room, I didn’t really have to ask whether they’d sent the tuition check. For better or worse, I’d be a college freshman in just a few weeks.

I took out a pair of pajamas from my dresser and pulled them on, looking around at everything on my bed and desk. They’d bought me an alarm clock that would play my iPod, and next to it, a sheet of rolled up paper. Curious, I picked it up and pulled off the rubber band.

Unrolling the poster, I suddenly wished I hadn’t. My thoughtful, oblivious parents had decided that the thing I would want most to decorate my dorm was a poster . . . of Moving Neutral.

April was in the center, airbrushed unnecessarily, staring out with a vulnerable expression on her face that I’d never seen in real life. Blake was next to her, looking out from the poster like something had just surprised him, as if he wasn’t ready for the photo when the camera clicked.

I looked at his eyes, flat and emotionless in the poster, and tried to remember how I felt when Blake Parker only existed in posters and on CD jackets, when he was just a picture and the lyrics of his songs.

I rolled the poster back up, and padded down the stairs to our kitchen. I could hear my dad’s voice from the top of the stairwell, Trevor excitedly talking over him, the scrape of forks on dishes. For a moment, I felt glad to be home.

I slept until mid-afternoon the next day, curled up on the fraction of my bed that didn’t hold linens or towels for college. I woke up to the sound of the doorbell. It was Monday -- my parents were at work, and Trevor was at his last week of camp for the summer.

It rang again.

I looked at my cell phone, which my parents had finally returned to me after dinner the night before.

You’re un-grounded, my dad had said, looking at me like he’d been waiting to say it for a while.

I can still be grounded, I said. It didn’t matter much now, anyways.

No, he said. We know you’re an adult, Casey. This is just what parents do -- they try to teach their kids about consequences, and sometimes that means punishment.

Consequences, I thought. Mission accomplished.

I pulled on a sweatshirt and walked out of my room. Madison hadn’t called, so I didn’t think she’d randomly ring our doorbell. But maybe.

I looked around our empty house as I made my way to the door. This was all I’d wanted from this summer -- no responsibilities, just day after day of lying around, watching movies, relaxing. Be careful what you wish for, I thought to myself.

I pulled open the door, expecting to be face to face with Madison. Instead, a giant flashbulb exploded on the other side. I blinked, half blinded, as someone shoved a magazine into my hand.

Casey, are you trying to take April’s place in the band?

Did you set out to break up Moving Neutral, or did it just happen?

What happened with you and Blake?

Of course, I thought. It was Monday. The day the tabloids came out, and I was probably big news for the last time. I shut the door without saying a word, wishing I’d thought to put on some makeup before opening it.

I looked down at the magazine, and my eyes widened. The cover photo was of me, standing next to Blake onstage at the acoustic show. The caption read, CASEY SNOW: ROCK STAR?

And then below that, Blake’s Girlfriend Takes Over as Moving Neutral Lead Singer.

And then, April: She Took Everything!

None of it was true, obviously. The magazines had gotten wind of the concert and taken the story to a complete extreme. I flipped open to the article and choked back a laugh. Some girl outside the last show was wearing a pink Team Casey shirt, while her friend sported one in blue that read Team April.

There was a picture of Blake outside his house, looking like he hadn’t slept in about a week. My heart broke a little bit, looking at him, and I closed the magazine without reading the rest of the article.

Madison showed up twenty minutes later, pulling her car all the way into my garage to avoid the photographers.

Man, when did you become such a paparazzi magnet? she said incredulously, pulling the curtains of our front windows closed. This is insanity.

It’ll die down, I said, completely confident. In a day or two, once they realized that Moving Neutral hadn’t broken up, they’d stop writing articles comparing me to Yoko Ono, and start forgetting I’d ever existed.

Fine, Madison said. So, we’re stuck here until Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise file for divorce. Or have another baby. Either way. I smiled weakly, and she continued. And your parents have already outfitted your entire dorm room. And you have no job and no little brother and really nothing to do for the next week and a half, right?

I looked at her, wondering what she was getting at.

Come on, Case -- Gossip Girl marathon, duh. She pulled a set of DVDs from her shoulder bag. No popcorn, though. I’m totally starting a juice fast today.

I grinned. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do. Are you kidding me? We have less than two weeks until a whole year of miserable dorm food. I’m eating every single leftover in my parents refrigerator.

Madison slipped the first DVD into the player, and I came up with a batch of chocolate chip cookies in a plastic container. I set them on the coffee table and hugged a pillow to my chest. If there was anything I needed for the next two weeks, it was distraction.

But as the days went by, I didn’t start to feel better. I felt worse.

By the weekend, I was replaying, over and over, the last conversation that I’d had with Blake, torturing myself with everything I hadn’t said, and now it was too late to say.

I fell asleep every night dreamless, wishing some reminder of him would sneak into my subconscious, to play out some happy ending that I could at least enjoy in my imagination. But every morning I woke up in my bed with the Barbie pink comforter, and it felt like even the memories were fading.

Matt said he’d have people over to his house tonight, Madison told me on Saturday afternoon as she evaded the lone photographer still camped out on our curb. I think it would be good for you to get out.

I looked down at the pajamas I’d barely taken off since the night I’d gotten home. After two months of Sophie’s designer clothes, it felt a little silly to put on my Gap jeans and head out to a party at Matt Andrews house.

Still, Madison was probably right. It wasn’t even like I was waiting by the phone -- Blake didn’t know my cell phone number. He didn’t even have my email, I was pretty sure. The unintended side effect of spending every waking moment together for two months -- no way to communicate, now that we were apart.

Not that it mattered. It was either me or the band, April had made that clear. Even if I wanted Blake to forgive me, I had to stop myself. Making this more complicated did neither of us any good.

One of the photographers had asked if I meant to break up Moving Neutral. If I tried to get Blake back, I ran the risk of actually doing it. For his sake, if not for mine, I had to at least try to move on.

Madison picked out my clothes -- a white sundress that I had bought for graduation parties, and tan sandals with chunky heels that were hiding at the back of my closet. It felt strange, wearing my own clothes again.

She drove us both to Matt’s. My parents hadn’t mentioned a curfew since I’d gotten back, and Madison said it was pretty safe to assume they didn’t wait up for me anymore.

Besides, she smirked. I know you’re going to want to go home after about five minutes. If I drive you, at least I’ll keep you out for an hour or two.

I hid in the backseat as we pulled out of my driveway, and the photographer didn’t bother to follow us. They’d all seemed to realize pretty quickly that without Blake Parker, no one cared much about Casey Snow.

It was after eight when we pulled up to Matt’s house, a few other cars already in the driveway. Lights were on inside, and I could see a few people from our Prospect class on couches in the living room. I took a deep breath, following Madison up the path to the front door.

Hey, Matt said, answering the doorbell almost instantly. Hey Casey, he looked at me eagerly, pulling the door wide open. Can I take your coat?

Um, I said, looking at him, confused. It’s the middle of summer.

Right, he laughed, sounding nervous. Ha, okay. No coat.

I shot Madison a look out of the corner of my eye and she shrugged, setting her purse down on a side table. We walked into the living room, and as we got to the entrance, every conversation in the room stopped.

Hi guys, Madison looked around the suddenly quiet room, and I stood there awkwardly as people said hello and resumed talking, this time in whispers.

Maybe we should get a drink, I murmured to Madison, heading back out of the room in the same breath. What’s wrong with everyone? I whispered when we were safely out of earshot.

I don’t know, she said, looking over her shoulder as the conversations returned to full volume. Maybe they’re nervous because you were in magazines all summer.

Matt Andrews reads US Weekly?

I mean, you know, she said, taking two cans of beer out of a cooler and popping hers open, handing the other to me. Everybody thought it was kind of cool, this summer. That you were sort of famous, or whatever.

I rolled my eyes. Getting famous for doing nothing was exactly what Blake had been trying to avoid. No wonder he wasn’t trying to get in touch with me -- I was everything he was fighting against.

I felt my lip tremble, and raised the can to my mouth to conceal it.

Is this going to be awkward all night? I asked.

Madison started to nod, and then she must have seen the miserable look on my face and started to feel sorry for me. I know how we can make it better, she said, taking the beer out of my hand and setting it back down on the counter. She led the way over to a liquor cabinet, jiggling the antique handle until it opened.

We broke into this cabinet for the fourth of July, she said. So some of it might be watered down. But it’ll definitely make things more fun.

I thought about everything I’d been through in the past month, how much I’d gained and then lost, and the way I constantly missed every single moment of being with Blake, like he was tied to me, somehow, in a way that I couldn’t forget.

Pour away, I said, taking two tumblers down from a shelf. I guess my parents won’t care if we have to stay overnight. Madison poured liquor from a clear container into our glasses, and then topped them off with orange juice from Matt’s fridge, to make the taste slightly less unbearable.

We stayed in the kitchen by ourselves for the better part of an hour, not particularly anxious to rejoin the rest of the group. My resolve got me through most of the glass that Madison poured, wincing at each sip. By the time it was empty, I was starting to feel like the awkwardness in the other room didn’t matter.

Liquid courage, Madison whispered as we switched back to beer and returned to the living room. It’s fine, they’ll get over it, I’m sure.

And she was right that the room didn’t silence when we returned. People looked at me nervously, continuing their conversations distractedly as I looked for a place to sit.

Here, Casey, take my seat, Matt jumped up, offering me his spot on the couch.

Thanks, I said, sitting down next to a girl who was the year below us at Prospect.

So, Casey hung out with Brett, in Los Angeles, Madison said loudly, trying to steer the conversation towards a subject I wouldn’t mind discussing.

I did, I grinned. It was so fun, he’s doing great. And then to Madison, I said, actually, we all went out together one night. For a second I thought he and Sophie might hit it off, but she ended up having to go home early.

Who’s Sophie? Matt broke in, and I stared at him for a second. Matt Andrews, with the second row seats, didn’t even know the name of Moving Neutral’s drummer. Madison turned her face away from him, and rolled her eyes so that only I can see.

Just a friend, I said, and a pang of missing Sophie hit me. I knew why Blake couldn’t contact me, April had made that abundantly clear. But Sophie hadn’t tried to get in touch with me either -- and I could only think of one reason for it. April hadn’t threatened her. So she must have been so upset by my lying that she had nothing to say to me anymore.

And if Sophie felt that way, I could only imagine how Blake felt.

After a few minutes, people started talking about college -- Matt was leaving in a few days for some pre-orientation camping trip that sounded absolutely miserable. Madison looked at him as if he’d just grown a third ear.

Great, she said. Just how you want to start freshman year -- with a week of not showering or using deodorant.

New York schools apparently like us to actually look nice when we meet our future roommates, I chimed in, thinking about the yellow sundress that I’d planned to wear for the day we moved into the dorms -- the one I’d abandoned in Blake’s house when I’d left for the airport. Maybe Madison would take me shopping for another one.