Day Two, 7:19 p.m.
I don’t know what else to do, so I head over to Jordan’s brother Adam’s dorm. Maybe I could tell them Lloyd and I are fighting? Or that he proposed to me, and when I said I wasn’t ready to get married, he kicked me out of the room. Hmm. It’s going to be challenging, trying to come up with an explanation that makes sense as to why I have nowhere to sleep tonight.
Adam’s building has the same swipe card system as Lloyd’s did, but for some reason, there are no people coming in and out. Maybe Lloyd’s building is like, the party building, where people are just coming and going all the time. And Adam’s building is the studious building, and all the kids are in their rooms studying.
A girl in a pink tank top and tons of eyeliner walks up the steps, and I try to follow her into the building, but she turns around and gives me a death glare. I am a master at the death glare (I perfected it even more just for this trip), but this girl is really, really good.
“You can’t come in without your card,” she says.
“I forgot my card,” I say.
“You forgot it?” She tosses her hair over her shoulder.
“Yeah,” I say. “I forgot it in my room.”
“Not my problem,” she says and starts shutting the door. “Go to the student center and get a temporary.” And then she shuts the door in my face. God, I hope she’s not leading the prospective student tours around this place. Who would want to go to school here? So far, I know three people here. Lloyd, Adam, and Pink Shirt. Lloyd is currently pissed off at me because I won’t hook up with him, Pink Shirt was just a bitch to me, and one time, Jordan’s brother told him he should break up with me because I had no tits. This place is so great.
I pull out my cell phone, which for some reason is on silent. Oh. From when I made that big show about putting it on silent when Jordan dropped me off here. So that Lloyd and I could hook up. I take a deep breath and contemplate what I’m going to say. Something to make it look like I ditched Lloyd? But then I realize that this whole time, this whole game I’ve been playing about the Lloyd thing is kind of pointless. Because I was hoping to make Jordan jealous by using Lloyd to make him come to his senses—i.e., realize MySpace Mercedes was a total slut, while I, on the other hand, was so obviously desired and cool that I was moving on at the speed of light. But now that I know the MySpace girl is made up, it kind of ruins it. He just doesn’t like me. Or love me. So it doesn’t matter if I have a boyfriend or not, because he doesn’t care.
I feel like I’m going to cry, so instead of calling Jordan, I follow the signs to the student union and order a pink lemonade, which I drink while sitting on a bench outside and trying to figure out how long I have until it gets really dark and I’m forced to do something. My cell phone rings. It’s my dad.
“Hey,” I say, trying to sound like everything’s fine. Must not sound like I am stuck with no place to spend the night after getting attacked in Lloyd’s dorm room. Okay, not really attacked. More like accosted. But still. I can’t let my dad know I have nowhere to sleep.
“Hey, honey,” he says, and something in his voice makes me nervous.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Listen, Courtney,” he says. “I have something that I need to tell you.”
17 Days Before the Trip, 6:23 p.m.
“I’m breaking up with her tonight,” I tell B. J. We’re on the phone, and I’m waiting for Courtney to come over to my house. “I can’t keep doing this. It’s ridiculous.”
“Okay,” B. J. says uncertainly. “But I don’t understand why you can’t just tell her.”
“I could just tell her,” I say. “But the thing is, B. J., what if she’s never supposed to find out? What if this thing with her dad and my mom runs its course, and what she doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt her unless I tell her?”
“Well,” B. J. says, “if she’s never going to find out, then why would you break up with her? It’s not going to hurt anyone. Especially if she’s going to start giving it up. Don’t give up a piece of ass just to spite your face.” He sounds smug.
“I’m not even going to address that,” I say, leaning back in my chair and running my fingers through my hair. “This is going to be bad.”
“Damn straight,” B. J. says. “I hope she doesn’t go psycho.”
“Thanks,” I say sarcastically. “You’re such a good friend.”
“Hey, I’m here for you, bro,” he says. “But I think you’re making a mistake.”
“She loves me,” I say. “And I can’t be with someone who loves me when I’m lying to her. I’d rather have her hate me for thinking I’m a typical male asshole than by keeping something so important from her.”
“Does she know it’s going to happen?” B. J. asks.
“I told her we needed to talk tonight,” I say, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “So I think so.”
“You’re a better man than I am, dude,” B. J. says. “And may the force be with you.” He clicks off, and I stare at my phone incredulously, partly because the fact that my conversation with B. J. is over means I’m going to have to deal with this whole Courtney thing, and partly because my best friend is quoting
Star Wars
when I’m in the middle of the biggest romantic crisis of my life.
Five minutes later, Courtney knocks on the door to my room. “Come in,” I say, putting up an away message on my instant messenger that simply says “Away.”
“Hey,” she says. She’s wearing a pair of red-and-white-checked shorts and a strappy red tank top. I can see the straps of her bra peeking through, and her hair is up in one of those sloppy ponytail/bun things girls always wear. She looks sexy.
“Hi,” I say, not moving from my computer chair. She sits down on my bed and looks at me expectantly. Things with Courtney and I have not been the same since we got back from Miami. I’ve been slightly avoidant of her, and she’s been standoffish with me, too. Once I didn’t say “I love you” back to her, and once she made it clear she was ready to sleep with me and I didn’t act on it, it’s been awkward between us.
“Listen,” she says. “I don’t know what’s going on with us, but I’m starting to feel really horrible about it.” She bites her lip, and I look away from her. If I have to look at her, I’m not going to be able to do this. And it needs to be done.
“I don’t want you to feel horrible, Court,” I say truthfully. “And I don’t want things to be weird between us.”
“I’m sorry about Miami,” she says. “I shouldn’t have put pressure on you to have sex with me, and I shouldn’t have told you I love you. I’m just…I just…I just got caught up in the moment, and I’m sorry.”
I want so badly to take her in my arms and tell her it’s okay, that I love her, too, but I can’t. I look away, and don’t say anything.
“But it doesn’t have to change anything,” she rushes on. “It’s not a big deal. I mean, I don’t need you to feel that way about me. Everything can go back to the way it was before, it doesn’t have to be different. It doesn’t have to change.”
“It does change things, though, Courtney,” I say, still not looking at her. “It does.”
“It only does if we decide it does,” she says. A note of worry has crept into her voice, like she knows this is something that can’t be fixed, but it’s for a different reason than she thinks, and it’s killing me. “It doesn’t matter to me, Jordan, really. I just want to go back to the way things were before.”
“I can’t,” I say simply. “Courtney, on the beach I realized that I don’t want to be tied down right now. I want to be able to be young and date other people.” Oh, my God. I sound like a really old, annoying uncle who’s trying to convince someone they should date while they can.
“You want to date other people?” she asks, her voice cracking a little bit.
“I’m not a relationship person,” I say, shrugging. I still can’t look at her, because I know if I do, I’ll lose it.
There’s a moment of silence, a pause, and I expect her to start screaming, or maybe to beg me to change my mind, or to start crying or something. But instead, she gets up from my bed and walks out my door. In a way, it’s almost worse than a big scene. Because now she’s probably never going to want to talk to me again. I wait until I hear the front door of my house shut before I give into it and start to cry.
Day Two, 8:03 p.m.
“Where’s Courtney?” I ask when Lloyd opens the door, not bothering with any pleasantries. I knew I was going to get into a fight with Lloyd at some point on this trip. It was inevitable. I thought maybe I’d be able to avoid it if I didn’t see him, but now, when he answers the door to his room with a shit-eating grin on his face, I want to rip it off. His face, I mean.
“Well, well, well,” Lloyd says, leaning against the door frame. “What’s up, Jordy?” Lloyd is such a tool that he actually sometimes thinks he’s cooler than me. Which is ridiculous. Especially since he’s wearing a polo shirt. You cannot be cooler than anyone, especially not me, when you’re wearing a polo shirt.
“Where’s Courtney?” I repeat.
“Why?” he asks suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. “If you’re here to do one of those last-minute things where you rush in and save her, you’re a little too late.” He smiles. He actually fucking smiles at me. I’m done with this dude.
I push him out of the way and walk right into his room. She’s not there.
“She’s not here,” I say.
“Good work, Captain Obvious,” he says. He crosses the room and sits down at his desk.
“Where. Is. She?” I ask. I wonder what will happen if I punch him. I’m so pissed off at everyone right now, the thought of getting into a fight with Lloyd actually scares me. I don’t know if I could stop at just punching him. We’d probably get into it pretty good, and campus security would come and arrest me.
“I don’t know,” Lloyd says, shrugging. “I assume she’s out looking for you.”
“Why would she be out looking for me?”
“Because she left, and since she doesn’t know anyone else here, I would assume she’s looking for you,” he says, rolling his eyes. Is this kid for real?
“You just let her leave?” I ask. “Why would you do that?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “She freaked out a little bit, and I figured she needed her space.”
“You’re an asshole,” I say, pushing past him and outside. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and dial her number, but she’s not answering. Fuck. Where would she go? I head back toward the truck and dial her cell phone number on the way, hoping maybe she’s turned it back on.
And then suddenly, I see her. She’s sitting on a bench near where I parked my car. She’s holding her cell phone in her hand, just looking at it. Which is weird, because I’m trying to call her. Her cell phone is ringing in her hand, and she’s just ignoring it.
“Court!” I yell. I start walking toward her and she looks up. Her blue eyes meet mine, and suddenly, I stop. Because I can tell she knows.
“Hey,” I say, walking toward her. She looks up, and the look she gives me is horrible. There are tears in her eyes. “Courtney,” I say. “Let me explain.”
“Let you explain?” She throws her head back and laughs at the absurdity of it. “Yeah, great, this should be interesting. Go ahead and explain.”
“I didn’t do it to lie to you,” I say. “I wanted to protect you. I didn’t know it was your dad, I didn’t—”
“Great job of protecting me, Jordan,” she says, cutting me off. “Do I look like you spared my feelings?” She picks up her bag and slings it over her shoulder, like she’s going to leave. I reach up and grab her arm.
“Don’t touch me!” she says, wrenching away from me.
“Court, please, listen—” I start to say.
“No,” she says, standing up. “I’m done.”
She starts walking away.
“Court!” I yell after her. “Where are you going?”
But she doesn’t answer.
13 Days Before the Trip, 3:30 p.m.
I’m walking out of the mall when I see Courtney’s dad walking in. I try to get out of the way to avoid him, but he’s already seen me, and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me turn around.
“Mr. Brewster!” I say cheerfully.
“Jordan,” he says, nodding at me. “Looks like you’ve had a successful trip to the mall.” The way he says it implies I’ve been on a silly little shopping trip, while he’s been hard at work all day. Which is probably true. I’ve been in Abercrombie for more than an hour, and I’ve spent over four hundred dollars. All on my mom’s credit card. Serves her right.
“I
have
had a successful trip,” I agree.
“Abercrombie,” he says, reading it off the bag in the same tone he used before. Sue me if I need retail therapy. This whole Courtney breakup is driving me insane, and shopping makes me feel better. I’m turning into a girl. Plus I love the feeling I get when my mom’s credit card runs through the machine.
“Yup,” I say. “You look like you could use a trip there yourself.” It’s meant to be an insult, like he has no sense of fashion, but he doesn’t get it.
“Oh, not today,” he says. “I’m here to upgrade my cell phone plan, and then I have to get back to the office.”
“Good for you,” I say, resisting the urge to hit him. “Good luck with that.” I move past him into the parking lot, but he calls after me.
“I heard you and Courtney broke up,” he says. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m sure you are,” I say sarcastically.
“Now, Jordan, that’s not fair. I never wanted to cause you or Courtney any pain.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I lie. “Courtney and I didn’t break up because of you. We broke up because I met someone else.” The last thing I want is to give Courtney’s dad the satisfaction of thinking he broke the two of us up. Besides, this whole breakup with Courtney has spun out of control—I’ve made up a new girlfriend. A fake girlfriend, someone I supposedly met on MySpace. I got sick of everyone asking why we broke up, and I figured having a fake girlfriend is a better reason than “I don’t know.” Plus, it helps me when I get tempted to call Courtney and beg her to take me back.
“Well, that’s great,” Mr. Brewster says. He looks at his watch and glances over my shoulder into the mall. “I should get going.”
“Sure,” I say. Asshole.
“I hope it won’t be that big of a deal to you to drive to school without Courtney. Perhaps your new girlfriend could make the trip with you? It’s an awful long way to go alone.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, frowning. Court and I had planned to drive up to Boston together for school, and I figured it was still on. Actually, that’s not true. I was hoping it was still on, but I was afraid to approach her about it since a) she won’t talk to me, and b) if I brought it up, she might tell me it’s canceled.
“Well, I assumed you wouldn’t still be going on the trip. I haven’t talked to Courtney about it yet, but—”
“Oh, no,” I say. “We’re still going.”
“Really?” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Does Courtney know this?”
“I haven’t talked to her,” I say. “But we’re going.” Suddenly I realize just how badly I want to go on this trip. That it could be my last chance to spend time with Courtney. And that since it’s already planned, it won’t look that suspicious if we still go.
“Jordan, I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” he says. “Courtney’s already going through a lot with the breakup and—”
“We’re going,” I say. “You’ll tell her she’s still going. And if you don’t, well…” I trail off, and I see a flash of panic cross his face. Because now that Courtney and I are broken up, he has no power over me. I could tell her everything if I wanted to. And with that, I turn around, head to my car, and drive home with my four hundred dollars’ worth of Abercrombie merchandise in the trunk and the Beastie Boys on the radio.