“This isn’t about her anymore. It’s about us.” Jason pulls me closer to him. “And I don’t care who knows.”
Then he kisses me.
Right here, in the middle of the hall, with everyone looking.
He kisses me.
I thought I remembered what it felt like to kiss him. But this is unreal.
Jason says, “I love you.”
Everyone watching us stopped talking when he kissed me. Which means a whole bunch of people just heard Jason say that he loves me.
“Stop being like this,” Jason goes. “What are you so afraid of?”
I’m totally shocked. Way too shocked to say anything.
Everyone’s staring. Some of my stuff is still on the floor. I’m late for class.
“Um . . .” I quickly scoop up the rest of my stuff, throw it in my locker, and slam the door. My hand shakes as I click my lock shut. “I’m late for class.”
I know Jason wants me to say that I love him, too. And that we should be together and I don’t care what Erin thinks anymore. But this is just too much.
Jason watches me, waiting to hear the things I can’t say. Walking away from him is the last thing I want to do, but I don’t see any other way.
Being late for English is not fun. Ms. Bigelow makes this whole production of taking off points if you’re late. Not that it matters. My English grade is so bad that a few more points off will hardly make a dent.
Ms. Bigelow is like, “I’ve already collected the papers.” She waits for me to pass mine up. So now I have to admit that I can’t find mine. There’s no way she’s going to believe me.
“I can’t find mine,” I say.
“I’m sorry?” Ms. Bigelow goes, even though she totally heard me.
“It was in my binder, but now I can’t find it. That’s why I was late.”
“That’s too bad.”
She doesn’t believe me. She starts the lesson anyway.
I don’t know exactly what makes me start crying. Maybe it’s the frustration of knowing that I really did my paper, but now I look like a liar all over again. Maybe it’s how Jason kissed me and told me he loves me in front of everyone and I just walked away. Or maybe it’s coming to school every single day with so many people still hating me. That can wear a person down.
Of course I always have a pack of Sniff tissues in my bag except for today. I can’t stop crying, even though I’m telling myself to quit it.
Ms. Bigelow stops teaching. She says, “Lani? Are you all right?”
I nod. I try to look like I’m calming down. But her asking me just makes it worse.
Someone in the back does this snorting-laugh thing.
Ms. Bigelow picks up the bathroom pass and gives it to the person sitting in the front of my row. “Pass this back, please.” When Marnie turns to give me the pass, she’s totally smirking. No one feels bad for me. They’re probably all thinking,
This is what you get for being such a slut. Oh, and we don’t believe you about your paper
.
What if Erin never forgives me? What if I stay away from Jason and it’s all for nothing?
Maybe everything that happens in our lives isn’t already decided by fate. Maybe we have some influence over the outcome. If you want something badly enough, can you change your fate? Or will the thing you want the most come true anyway, no matter what you do?
41
Blake finally had
a decent day at school.
Ryan Campanelli got in trouble for spray-painting his locker.
I was worried that whoever did it would get away with it because nothing was ever proven. But Sophie totally turned Ryan in. Ryan was suspended for a week. He should have been expelled, but his mother’s on the school board.
Sophie suspected that Ryan was the one who did it, but she didn’t have any proof. So she kept watching Ryan to see if he’d screw up. When a pile of books slid out of Ryan’s locker in between classes, Sophie looked in and saw a spray-paint can wedged in the back. She went over and yanked the can out of Ryan’s locker. Of course it was the same shade of yellow used on Blake’s locker.
“You’re the one who spray-painted Blake’s locker!” Sophie yelled. She held the can up so everyone could see.
The hall got quiet. Everyone stared at them.
Ryan looked around at everyone staring. He knew it would be pointless to deny it.
“So?” Ryan went.
“How could you do something like that? It’s disgusting, even for you.”
Some of the kids who were watching snickered.
Ryan was all, “Who cares? People were talking about him last year. It’s not like I outed him or anything.”
Sophie got right in his face. “Um, actually? You did.”
Then Sophie asked why Ryan waited so long to do anything if he knew about Blake since last year. Ryan didn’t have to explain anything to her. He could have just walked away. But in some warped way, I think he’s proud of what he did. So Ryan said that if he told people last year before school ended or during the summer, it wouldn’t have had the same impact. He wanted to wait until the first day of school and slam Blake with the full force of everyone talking about it at once. That way, Blake would be burned way harsher than if the rumor trickled out over the summer. Sophie told me Ryan was practically bragging about the whole thing.
It’s scary how powerful hate can be.
Taking the train to Uncle Rick’s house after school is more fun than I thought it would be. I hate that Blake has to spend so much time alone on the train every day, so I promised I’d go home with him sometimes.
The train rattles. I watch the landscape zipping by. I’m thinking about all of the history here, all of the hidden treasures that might never be discovered. And about how much Jason loves the train tracks. I totally get what he sees in them. It feels like I’m on my way to a new destination. A place I don’t really know yet, one I can’t see from here. A place I’ll recognize from somewhere deep within my soul when I get there.
“So I heard some action went down in the hall today,” Blake says.
I groan. “Don’t remind me.”
“What, you didn’t want to be kissed?”
The truth is that Jason’s kiss rocked me so hard I’m still shaking. I just can’t get into it yet, so I say, “Not in front of everyone, no.”
“I talked to Erin.”
“You
told
her?!”
“Like I would do that. She’d already heard about it, along with the rest of the world.”
I groan some more.
Blake goes, “I talked to her about you and Jason.”
“There
is
no me and Jason.”
“Exactly. That’s the problem.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“Am I? Or are you a little bit crazy?”
“I can’t be with Jason when—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Blake flutters his hand in my face. “Erin saved your life and now you owe her. But can I just ask—how is staying away from Jason paying her back?”
“I don’t want to hurt her any more than I already have.”
“Um, it’s called life. Erin’s a big girl. She can handle it.”
“What did you say to her?”
“Just that you can’t keep soul mates apart forever.”
“You
said
that?!”
“Like it’s a lie? Anyway, she has to know by now, she’s just not admitting it to herself. It’s not like she hasn’t seen you guys together.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing. She was leaving and I had to catch the train with you.”
This is bad. Really bad. Now Erin probably thinks that I made Blake talk to her. Like I was too afraid to talk to her myself or something.
“No worries,” Blake says. “It will all work out the way it’s supposed to. If you and Jason are meant to be together, which you obviously are, then it’ll happen.”
I wish it was that easy.
The good news is that Uncle Rick has an extensive movie collection. Blake and I argue about which one to watch.
“Why can’t we watch
The Puffy Chair
?” I say.
“Because it’s boring.”
“It is not! How can you not think it’s so good?”
“Um . . . maybe because it’s boring?”
“Do you have a better suggestion?”
“What about
Juno
?”
“I just saw that again, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Well, how about
The Safety of Objects
?”
“I’ve seen that, like, five times.”
“So? It’s still awesome, right?”
“Agreed.”
I pop some popcorn while Blake starts the movie. We set up on the couch.
“That’s cool.” I point to a delicate glass vase on the coffee table.
“Thanks,” Blake says. “I made it.”
“Dude, you have immense talent.”
“Not really. It took me forever.”
We watch
The Safety of Objects
. We’re blasting the TV since there’s no one home to tell us to turn it down. Uncle Rick won’t be home from work for at least another hour.
When the door opens, we don’t even hear it.
Something moves in my peripheral vision. I grab Blake’s arm.
Blake’s dad is just standing there.
Watching us.
No one ever locks their doors around here during the day. Especially in an area like this, which is even more remote than ours.
“What are you doing here?” Blake goes.
“I wanted to see you.”
“Why? So you can yell at me some more? So you can rant about how worthless I am?”
His dad glances at me. I’m not going anywhere.
Blake goes over to his dad. I’m not sure when it happened, but Blake is taller than him now.
“You,” Blake says, “will never hurt me again.”
“You lied to me,” his dad says.
“When?”
“For years. You said . . . You lied all that time.”
“About what?”
His dad doesn’t say anything.
“About
what
, Dad?”
“You know what.”
“You can’t even say it, can you? About me being gay?”
No response.
“Because I’m gay, Dad? Is that your problem? That I didn’t tell you? Why do you think I hid it?”
“Hey—” Blake’s dad grabs his arm.
Blake shoves his dad back, hard.
“Why do you think?” Blake yells. “Because you’d hate me if you knew! Because you’d say disgusting things to me until I’d wish I were dead!”
His dad stays quiet.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to know your own father hates you?” Blake yells even louder. “You’re supposed to love me! That’s your job! I’m gay and you can’t even say it. You can’t admit who I really am.”
I want to run over and hug Blake and never let him go. I could not be more impressed with him. He’s finally saying all the things he’s wanted to say for so long. He’s overcome his fear.
Now would be a good time for Blake’s dad to tell Blake that he loves him and he’s here for him, no matter what. That he accepts Blake for who he is because Blake is his son. That Blake should come home.
Blake’s dad doesn’t say any of those things.
He just leaves. Just walks right out the door.
“Good thing I have Uncle Rick,” Blake says. Then he sits down on the floor and cries.
I go over to Blake and hug him. He’s shaking.
“I’m here for you,” I say. “Whatever you need.”
It’s such a relief that Uncle Rick is taking care of Blake. He accepts Blake for who he is unconditionally, the way you’re supposed to with family. Uncle Rick respects that Blake’s dad is his brother, but he hates the way Blake has been mistreated.
That’s the tricky thing about being bonded to someone for life. Blake and his dad are bonded like I’m bonded with Erin. We’re irrevocably tied together by history, a history that can never be erased. Even if you want to deny it, even if you want to pretend it never existed, it will always be a part of you. It will always, in some way, define who you are.
42
According to most
people, fall starts on the first day of school. I disagree. I think that fall starts when you feel it in the air. Like today, how it’s all crisp and cool outside.
It’s official. Every last part of summer is over.
It’s been hard to stay in my room for more than a few minutes. It’s like I can’t deal with confined spaces anymore. I need wide open areas, where I can run far away if I have to. That’s why I’m doing my homework on the front porch, spread out on the wicker couch with a blanket over my lap.
I think about how Blake stood up to his dad. He was so afraid of his dad for all those years. Then yesterday, everything changed. Blake faced his worst fear. If he hadn’t finally confronted his dad, Blake’s future would probably be a lot different.
Which means that we do have at least
some
control over our fate. If Blake can finally say all the things he’s been keeping in for so long, after so many years of heartache and pain, then I can definitely deal with this. My fear of facing Erin is nothing compared to what Blake went through. I can change my fate just like Blake did.
If I want things to change, I can’t just sit around wishing they would change. I have to
make
them change.
I jump up and run inside. When I call Erin, I’m surprised that she actually answers.
“Where are you?” I say.
“Why?”
“Just where are you?”
“The Fountain.”
“Meet me at Green Pond in fifteen minutes.”
“What do—”
I hang up. This can only be done in person.
Green Pond is too far away for me to get there in time on my bike. Of course Dad’s car isn’t here, so I have to take the stick.
Driving over to meet Erin, I get angrier by the minute. I’m so angry I stall like seven times. The last time I restart the car, I practically rip the stick shift out and smash it against the windshield.
When I get there, she’s already waiting for me. I can’t tell anything from her expression.