“Imagine that.” Mike shakes his Etch-A-Sketch.
“What if . . .” Josh walks over to the tiny window.
“What if what?” I say.
“No, it’s just . . . what if I tell Maggie how I feel about her, and she doesn’t feel the same way?”
“You have to take the risk. If I didn’t, there’s no way I’d be with Sara now.” I want them to know exactly how Sara’s changed me in ways I never thought possible. But instead I say, "Just go for it, man. Whatever happens happens.”
“You know what? Yeah. I’m calling her.” Josh takes out his cell phone. “And I’m telling her exactly how I feel. I’m nice, yo!”
“Don’t call yet,” Mike says. "Let’s plan what you’re saying first.”
Josh looks at me. We crack up.
“What?”
Mike says.
The garage door is open. Light spills out into the night.
“When’s your mom coming home?” Josh says.
“Late,” Mike says. “We have time.”
During our tree-house meeting, we decided that the band is on an unofficial hiatus. Lately we’ve been getting together only to jam and stay sharp. I finally realized that it would be impractical to continue this as if it were going somewhere. So this is our last jam.
“From the top,” Mike says.
We’re playing this old Bob Seger song called “Night Moves.” It’s a good song for us because the guitar and bass and drum parts are equally fierce.The song’s all about being young and free and making out in your car with the girl you love. The things that matter in life.
CHAPTER 47
into the unknown
april 24, 4:25 p.m.
Technically, it’s not spying if you’re looking into your neighbor’s window—and you can see stuff inside—if they don’t even have their curtains closed. It’s like, come on. How are you not going to look? But I have a valid purpose here. I’m sitting in my yard, working in my sketchbook. My neighbors have the best windows for miles around. Each window has this little crank inside and you turn the crank to open or close the window. I wish I thought of that first.
I love these warm spring days. The anticipation of everything.
I switch to a thinner pastel stick. Drawing the angle between the windowsill and the side of the open window is harder than it looks.
Mom drops my mail on top of what I’m doing. Don’t mind me. I’m only trying to prepare for my future career.
She goes, “Here’s your mail.”
“Hm.”
After she leaves, I sift through a catalog and a letter from my pen pal from camp and something from NYU and—
Oh my god.
It’s here.
I hold the NYU letter in front of me and stare at it, hoping for a telepathic message. It’s thick. That’s supposed to be a good sign. I hold the envelope up in front of the sun. I can’t see through it. Of course I can’t.
It’s too thick!
I have to open it. I’m dying to open it. But I can’t do this alone.
Mom’s in the living room.
I sneak into her bedroom and close the door. Then I dial.
“Hello?”
“It’s here,” I tell her.
“Did you open it?”
“I can’t.”
“You have to open it,” Laila says.
“I know.”
“Is it thick?”
“It’s thick.”
“Yes! You totally got in! Open it!”
“Okay,” I breathe.
I slide my finger under the seam of the envelope and rip it open slowly. I peek inside.
“Well?” Laila goes.
“I’m still opening it.”
“You’re in. You’re so in.”
“Okay,” I tell her. “I’m taking the letter out.” I’d be less flushed if I’d just run twenty miles.
“Well?” Laila screams.
I scan the first sentence of the letter.
“I got in!” My eyes tear up. “I got in!”
“Congrats! But, like, obviously.”
“Yes!”
I’m jumping all around like a maniac.
“It would appear that we’re destined for greatness. But this we knew.”
I sit down on the bed to catch my breath.
“If they didn’t take you, they’d be seriously wrong.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Why? You earned it.”
“No, it’s like . . . it’s all working out.”
“Not while we still have all this calc,” Laila complains. “Could this homework be any longer?”
“No,” I tell her. “It definitely couldn’t be.”
But I don’t have to care anymore. I’ve already gotten into college. High school is now officially irrelevant.
Tobey’s coming over in half an hour. He says he wants to take me out to celebrate. Of course I don’t have anything to wear. It’s going to take me at least that long to get something together. I briefly consider stealing that fierce halter top I like since I’m already in Mom’s room, but she’ll see me leave with it on.
I open the door. Mom’s standing right there.
“Were you listening?” I say.
“No.”
“Well . . . I just found out I got into NYU.”
Mom says, “Really?”
“Yeah.”
And then something really weird happens.
She hugs me.
Okay, so it’s not one of those warm and fuzzy hugs where you bond and cry and go make s’mores around the campfire. But at least it’s something. At least she’s trying.
“I have to figure out what to wear. Tobey’s coming to pick me up.”
“Well, here,” Mom says. She goes over to her closet and takes out the halter top. “You liked this when I showed it to you before, right?”
“Yeah?”
“You can borrow it.” She holds it out tentatively.
“Thanks.”
Getting ready in my room, I put on this old Chicago song, “If You Leave Me Now.” It’s so overwhelmingly romantic, which is exactly how I feel right now. And I feel good. I’m thinking that it might actually be possible for things to work out sometimes. Definitely not everything and maybe not the way you imagined. But sometimes, when you least expect it, life surprises you.
CHAPTER 48
end of familiar
june 15, 5:10 p.m.
“Like, what kind of sadist invented these hats?”
Josh is struggling to keep his mortarboard on. He tried to do this thing with hair product today, and it’s not exactly working for him.
“Someone who obviously didn’t graduate from high school,” Mike says.
I’m sitting in the row of wobbly chairs behind Mike and Josh since I’m taller. It’s crazy hot out here on the football field. The person who invented these ridiculous hats also forgot to come up with a material for these gowns that lets air circulate.
I search the girls’ side for Sara. She’s focused on Laila’s speech, which is a lot more interesting than the fifteen hours of other speeches. Laila was valedictorian by some absurdly microscopic quantity of GPA points.The rumor is that Michelle tried to OD on Tylenol when she found out she was only salutatorian.
When they start calling our names, I’m relieved that it’s almost over.
“Sara Tyler!”
There’s applause from the bleachers. I clap, too. I watch her walk across the stage, with her NHS rope. When she put it on, she joked about how it looked like a tie for curtains. Watching her get her diploma, all of these images flash in front of me like a blur. The prom, the senior luncheon, the awards ceremony . . . it’s like we’ve just been through so much so fast. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by everything. Maybe it’s exhaustion from cramming for finals. Or maybe it’s the heat.
I stand up straight. I’m next.
“Tobey Beller!”
There’s less applause for me, but that’s cool.The important thing is that it’s over.
I walk across the stage and shake hands and grab my diploma in a haze. And when I’m walking down the stairs on the other side, I see Mr. Hornby and Ms. Everman sitting together. They’re both smiling at me. And I feel something I’ve never felt before. I’m proud that they’re proud of me. And I’m proud that my hard work really did pay off.
After it’s over, parents start filtering across the field to take pictures and stuff. Our group is hanging out, waiting.
“All I want to do is go home and take a cold shower ten minutes ago,” Maggie whines.
“The best part of graduating is the knowledge that I will never have to take gym again,” Sara says.
“We also don’t have to subject ourselves to any more of Mr. Carver’s ties,” Laila adds.
“Damn, yo,” Josh says. “What was it with those ties?”
“I know,” Maggie says. “How can people have such different tastes? What, is taste genetic?”
“Clearly,” Laila says.“Name one possible environmental influence that could make someone like those ties.”
“Early head trauma?” I guess.
“Seriously,” Maggie agrees. “It’s like, nineteen forty-seven called and they want their wardrobe back.”
I’m going to miss this. I finally have a decent group of friends beyond Mike and Josh and it’s already over.
Sara’s mom comes over. She fans her face with the program.
“Sara,” she says. “Well . . . congratulations . . .” Then her mom gives Sara a quick hug.
“Oh,” Sara says.“Thanks.” She looks embarrassed. I guess I would be, too, if my mom was so out of it she didn’t even know what to say to me right now.
We all stand there, shifting awkwardly in the hot sun.
But then all our parents come over, and it’s a whirlwind of hugs and kisses and pictures.
Dad hands me a small box wrapped in gold foil.
"Congratulations, Tobey,” he says. "We’re...very proud of you.”
Mom dabs under her eyes with a tissue.
I open the box. It’s a really expensive-looking pocket watch.
“It belonged to your great-grandfather.”
I get that overwhelming feeling again, like it’s all too much when really it’s no big deal. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
“Thanks,” I tell him.
Mom keeps dabbing.
I look around at everyone else. It seems like half the people here are related to Laila. Everyone swarms around her, fighting for the chance to stand next to her and have their picture taken. Mike and Josh and their families all look happy. Josh is jumping around like a lunatic, hamming it up for the camera. Maggie’s talking to her mom, but I don’t see her dad anywhere. And Sara’s mom is trying to make small talk with some of the parents, looking off into the distance sometimes. Sara looks miserable.
“Hey, Dad?” I say.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going over to talk to Sara, okay?”
“Sure,” he says. My parents can’t stop gushing about Sara.They think she’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I was kind of scared they wouldn’t like her after the time Dad walked in on us, but it’s like they forgot all about it once I got into MMA.
Sara watches me walk over. She smiles a little.
My parents are taking me out to dinner. Everyone else is going out to dinner with their parents, too. Except for Sara.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” she says.
I look at her mom. We’ve only spoken a couple times. She knows that I’m Sara’s boyfriend, but she hasn’t made much of an effort to get to know me. It’s so weird.
"Hi, Tobey,” her mom says. “Congratulations and all.”
“Thanks. Um, I was wondering? If Sara could come to dinner with me and my parents tonight.”
“I think that sounds fine,” she says.
“Okay. Good. Well um . . . bye.” I grab Sara’s hand and take her away. It occurs to me that I didn’t ask my parents if it’s okay with them. But I know it will be.
“If you hadn’t rescued me just now, I don’t even know,” Sara says.
“What else would I do?”
“You’re my hero.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” I say.
Seeing everyone I grew up with for the last time, leaving this school and never coming back . . . it all feels really strange. But I’m ready to make things finally happen.
CHAPTER 49
edge of possibility
july 11, 7:23 p.m.
“The Boys of Summer” plays through the Putt-Putt Mini Golf speaker system.
“Exclusive!” Josh yells. “Check out this huge Slurpee! Did you guys know they’re only seventy-nine cents right now?”
“It’s changed my life.” Maggie is so obviously love-struck. Even though she’s still pretending to be aloof.
We’re all here to celebrate Laila’s last day with us, since she’s moving to Philly tomorrow for her summer internship. And Maggie’s leaving for Florida State in two weeks.
“Could it be any bigger?” I ask.
“The correct answer,” Laila says, “is no.”
“Dumb big!” Josh yells.
Laila also got a drink at 7-Eleven on our way over. I can’t remember the last time I saw Laila drink something other than coffee.
I go, “Why are you drinking that?”
“Didn’t you hear?” Laila says. “It was only seventy-nine cents.”
“No, like, there’s this huge Starbucks right across from 7-Eleven.”
“I’m off coffee.”
“What!” Maggie and I yell together.
“If I don’t start training myself to stay awake without artificial stimulants, they’re going to have to keep me hooked up to a caffeine IV drip at Penn.”
“Sounds delicious,” Mike says.
“It’s normal to get tired,” Tobey tells her.
“If I got tired like a normal person, my dad would probably bribe my roommate to sneak crushed up NoDoz into my dinner every night,” Laila says. “That is, before I become wildly famous for inventing a cure for sleep.”
It’s my turn. I smack my ball way out. It lands in some bushes by the fence overlooking Route 78.
“Bummer,” I say.
“Yeah,” Tobey says. “Weren’t you winning?”
“I still am.”
“What? No way,” Josh says. “Your ball’s like in Greenland. You’ll never find it.”
“I Just Want To Be Your Everything” comes on.
“Who is this?” Laila says. “The Bee Gees?”
“God!” Maggie says. “It’s Andy Gibb!” She rolls her eyes.