“And that’s it. I think it’s pretty damn obvious she likes you.”
I frowned as I sat next to him. We made eye contact, and I saw the Lance who wins track meets. The guy who had fire in his gut and used running to extinguish it. “I don’t like her, not like that,” he said. “I know she’s yours.”
I was shaking my head before he finished. “She’s not mine. I’m with Jade.” I didn’t even know if I wanted Holly to be mine.
“Yeah, you are. But should you be?” Lance shrugged. “It just seems like there’s a Mitch Houser I know. This guy who doesn’t judge me, who knows how much I hate my dad, and who would’ve asked what college I’d be attending next fall.” He flipped his phone over. “And then there’s a Mitch Houser who’s dating Jade. He’s pissed all the time, he skips class and forgets his homework, he sneaks out in the middle of the night, and he treats all his friends like they’re second-class citizens.”
“That’s not—”
“I’m just telling you what I see, man,” he said. “There’s two of you, and sitting here, I’ve got the first guy. My best friend.” He looked at me, and I found the emotion in his eyes easily. “But if Jade came in, you’d morph. You’d cut me off, or make an excuse for why you have to go, or simply go off with her without even saying ‘see you later’.”
I wanted to be both guys, a blend of the Perfect Mitch I’d been before, and the New Mitch I’d become. I wanted to hang out and be friends with Lance and Omar, as well as kiss Jade under the light of the moon. I wanted to be able to relax on Holly’s roof without feeling guilty, or switch phones without worrying if my conversations were inappropriate.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said.
Lance stood up and took off his shirt, replacing it with his jersey. “Wanna run?”
“Yeah,” I said. “So if you don’t like Holly, why are you kissing her?”
Lance groaned and tied his shoes. “Too much talking. More running. I’ll tell you later.”
I didn’t understand why he and Holly were kissing if he didn’t like her. I didn’t get why Holly was telling me how she felt now, when she knew how happy I was with Jade. I ran and ran, but I couldn’t get away from the questions.
28
When 3:10 hit, Charity was a nervous ball of energy. I’d showered after training with Lance, and had been waiting with her for twenty-five minutes. When the clock clicked to 3:11, she emitted a high-pitched moan, and I put my hands on her shoulders and spun her toward me.
“Stop it,” I said. “Or I’m not auditioning with you.”
Her eyes went wide and she clamped her mouth shut.
“It’s going to be fine, and if you don’t stop freaking out, I swear—”
The door to the choir room opened and the pair that had been auditioning exited. Mr. Sellers stepped out behind them, clipboard in hand, and called, “Mitch Houser and Charity Williams.”
I slid my hand into Charity’s, because she seemed rooted to the spot. I practically dragged her into the choir room. She held the CD in a protective sleeve, and I had to pry that out of her fingers too.
When the music started, she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Look at me,” I whispered, taking both her hands in mine. She opened her eyes and stared, pure panic in her face. “Sing,” I said. “Just sing.”
And sing she did. Beautifully, if a little shaky at the beginning. Once I joined my voice to hers on the duet part, she let the caged sound inside her free.
After I’d dropped her off—she didn’t stop talking the whole way to her house—I turned the car toward Jade’s. She’d texted to say that we should meet at the supermarket parking lot about a half-mile from her house. I wasn’t entirely sure why, but I didn’t really care. Lance’s words ate at me with every passing second. There I was, bending the rules to be with her. I never would’ve done something like this three months ago. Now, if I wanted to see her alone, I had to.
It’s not like I enjoy the sneaking around, I thought. The way my heart rippled was proof enough. My mom shopped at this store, she could easily catch me.
When I pulled into the parking lot, I saw Jade’s navy LandRover waiting way out by the sign. I parked next to her and got in the passenger seat of her car. “What are we doing again?” I asked.
She leaned over and kissed me quick. “I told my mom I was going to your house. You text your mom and tell her you’re coming to mine.” She smiled and sat back, clearly satisfied with herself.
I caught on and pulled out my phone. “Where are we really going?”
She laughed, the sound wild and free. “Wherever you want!” She backed out of the space and drove while I completed the text of lies to Mom. She answered with Home by dinner. Be careful, and I felt a rush of guilt. The New Mitch I’d become buried it behind the exciting opportunities of being alone with Jade.
She made random turns, saying, “Sometimes I just like to go wherever. Get away from my parents, you know?” She laughed and turned up the radio. The LandRover handled the snow pretty well, though Jade didn’t really seem to care that there was probably ice under the three inches that had accumulated during school.
“Ice cream?” she asked.
“It’s winter,” I said.
“Fine.” She giggled. “Hot chocolate?”
“Yeah, hot chocolate.”
Jade drove past two 7-Eleven’s and an Arctic Circle. “Do you know a special place for hot chocolate?” I asked.
“I just don’t want to stop yet.” She drove clear across Bellvue and swung into a Juice ‘n Java. “Two salted caramel hot chocolates.” She paid, we got our drinks, and Jade re-entered the flow of traffic.
When she got back to the supermarket, we sat in the SUV, sipping hot chocolate and talking. We watched the sun sink lower and lower, and then I leaned over and kissed her. It was one of the better afternoons of my life, even if I had to be a guy nobody but Jade liked to experience it.
November slid by, with dinners at Jade’s house under the watchful eyes of her parents, and show choir practice before school, and daily runs in the afternoon with Lance. He was good company because he made me push myself. But he was a constant reminder that I didn’t know what I was going to do after graduation, that I never really settled into myself until it was just me and him out on the track, and every time I saw him, my thoughts boiled around Holly.
We didn’t discuss Homecoming again. I didn’t see him and Holly acting all kissy-kissy at school, and his Mustang didn’t appear in her driveway. If they were seeing each other, I didn’t know when or where—which was just fine with me.
Charity and I had made the show choir as a partnership. Mr. Sellers had planned a holiday extravaganza for the week before Christmas, and his nervousness over our “lack of preparation” bled into every practice.
I was exhausted before first period, what with his theatrics and then Charity yakking my face off on the way to Senior Row.
Because Holly had said to, I renewed my vigilant watch on Drew and Omar. When I thought they were being inappropriate, I said so. Drew rolled her eyes a lot of the time, but Omar actually backed off for a while afterward. I made a conscious effort to talk to him during the dinners he ate at my house, and to make sure I told Lance I’d see him later before I wandered off with Jade.
Holly and I exchanged phones during history on A-Days, and wrote non-committal, light-hearted messages to each other the way we used to. Her purple Post-It disappeared. She’d never answered it. I didn’t know if she felt it or not, but I sensed something large between us. Something that, if poked, would explode and stain us for life.
So we didn’t poke at things.
She went to Kansas City for Thanksgiving to visit her dad and brother, and I stayed home and helped my family prepare two Thanksgiving dinners. One for the members of the church who had no family close by, and one for my grandparents who came in from Oklahoma City.
I texted Jade, who had gone to Denver to visit relatives, and I washed dis
hes, and I slept late.
When school started again, I got the first inklings of what college would be like—getting up after a weekend of cooking and cleaning and ignoring homework—and for the first time, I admitted to myself that I might not want to go to college. I couldn’t quite dismiss it completely, because I had a great opportunity to go almost anywhere I wanted. The recruiter cards in my orange folder testified to that.
So maybe I’d go. It would be great to have a passionate collegiate running coach. I didn’t fill out any more applications, and Jade didn’t mention them either. I didn’t remove the career school brochures from my folder. I told myself I still had time. Dad had asked me a couple of times about colleges and applications, and each time, the New-Mitch inside of me had blown him off. Sometimes I caught him watching me at dinner like he wanted to say something.
The atmosphere at school felt electric the first Monday back, what with Christmas vacation only three weeks away, and a thousand performances between now and then. Charity wanted to practice outside of our early morning rehearsals, but I turned her down. Every teacher had a final planned, and I needed the time to study. I’d quit sneaking over to Jade’s—at least physically. Dad would never buy me sitting outside in the below-freezing temps, and I couldn’t put Drew through covering for me.
I stayed under my quilts, texting her late into the night. We pulled our I’m-at-her-house / she’s-at-my-house trick a couple of times, sampling cupcakes, and grilled cheese sandwiches, and anything else Jade wanted to.
With the promise of the holidays in the air and all the sweaters and coats that December in Kansas required, the mood at school was loud and bright.
One night while I was staring at the orange folder of college applications instead of studying the biological process of mitosis, Mom yelled up the stairs that I had a phone call. I automatically looked for my cell in its usual spot next to me. It wasn’t there.
I concealed the panic as I went downstairs. I’d lost my phone. I couldn’t believe I’d lost my phone. I racked my brain, trying to remember the last place I’d had it and came up blank. Jade and I had gone to a sugar cookie shop this afternoon, wasting an entire afternoon at a tiny table that had her knees banging against mine. Could I have left it there?
Mom held the cordless phone toward me. “Jade.” From the look in her eyes, she already knew I’d lost my phone. I’d been dating Jade for over three months, and never once had she called the home phone.
“I’ll find it,” I said as I took the cordless and turned away for some measure of privacy. “Hey, Jade.”
“Your phone was in my car,” she said. “I have it.”
I spun around to face my mother. “Oh, you have my phone.” I shouldn’t sound so gleeful; Mom knew I’d left my phone behind. And I certainly didn’t want to perpetuate the lie and tell her I’d left it at Jade’s house.
Mom rolled her eyes and folded her arms.
“Do you need it tonight?” Jade asked.
“Nah,” I said. “I can get it from you in the morning. At my locker? Do you have time?”
“Yeah, sure,” she said. “Do you? Don’t you rehearse until the bell?”
“I can cut out early,” I said.
“Okay, well, great,” she said, and this was where I’d hem and haw and tell her I’d text her later. I still wasn’t great at live-conversing with girls, even Jade. She did most of the talking when we were together, or there was very little discussion as our mouths were busy with alternate activities.
“Great,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”
The next morning, I told Mr. Sellers that I needed to leave early, and I snuck out with ten minutes until the first bell. I spotted Jade standing at my locker from the corner, and I dodged between moving students so she wouldn’t see me.
I managed to sneak up behind her and wrap my arms around her. “Guess who?” I asked.
She turned, and everything in the world went black for a second.
She was crying.
Right there in Senior Row, tears streaming down her face. I realized there was a five-foot bubble around my locker, and Lance and Omar stood on the fringe, watching. I glanced at them like they knew what to do with crying girls—Lance probably did—swallowed, and looked back at Jade.
“What’s wrong?” I moved closer to shield her from the prying eyes passing by. I couldn’t fathom what would unseat her. Sure, I’d seen her a little sad before. Once on my porch when she said her dad was tight, and in her room when she pulled out her notebooks of poetry. On the bench in her backyard when we held hands at midnight. Each of those demonstrated controlled sadness. This was messy. This was water running down her face, which was blotched and angry. My stomach squirmed.
She wiped at her tears with shaking fingers. While she composed herself, I said, “It’s okay.”
“It is not okay, Mitch,” she said, her voice filled with barely-suppressed rage.
“Okay,” I said, every sense on high alert. “What’s not okay?”
“This.” She thrust my phone at me, striking me in the chest with it.
“My phone?” I took it and slid it in my back pocket so it was out of sight.
Black rivers discolored her cheeks, and I sensed a crowd gathering behind us. “You—and her—you said you were just friends.”
Lance stepped forward, but I held up my hand to keep him back. I spoke low to Jade, hoping to diffuse this, and fast. “Can we talk about this privately?”
“No, we will not talk about this privately,” she said, quite loudly.
I stood straight and tall, and backed up a step, bracing myself for the worst. Drew had joined Lance and Omar, and she looked scared. The noise in the hall had disappeared while everyone seemed riveted to what Jade might say next.
“I read your texts,” she said.
“Great,” I replied blandly. She was free to read anything on my phone. Anyone could. I didn’t send texts I didn’t want people to read. My parents periodically went through my phone, and so did Holly.
My mind seized, and I closed my eyes in a long blink. This had to be about Holly.
“Jade—”
“You kissed her,” she suddenly shrieked, causing me to flinch backward. “I read it in your text. You said you were sorry about the kiss. Sorry about what her mom would do about it.” Her face was bright red, and she swiped at her tears, only succeeding in smearing her makeup further.
She took a deep breath and straightened. “I can’t believe I believed you. Everyone talks about you and Holly, and I didn’t listen. I thought you really were just friends.” She laughed, and the sound of it made my skin crawl.
“We are,” I growled, so tired of this argument. “I did not kiss her.”
“All this time,” Jade continued, as if I hadn’t spoken at all. “I thought you would open up to me. I told you things I’ve never told anyone. I showed you my art.” She took a shuddering breath. “I thought we could be the kind of friends—” She made air quotes around the word—“like you and Holly were. Now I realize you were using me.” Her bottom lip quivered, but she kept going.
“I was your Holly stand-in, because she had a boyfriend and was ignoring you.”
“That is not true,” I said. “That is not true.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Some of the color drained from her face as the seconds clicked by. I didn’t like this scary silence any more than the crying and shrieking.
“Your text said sorry about the kiss,” she said in an ultra-controlled voice. “What did that mean?”
“I didn’t send that text,” I said, trying to figure out what thread she’d read. I had never apologized to Holly about the kiss. It was not my fault. If anything, Holly should have—
“Oh crap,” I said, my shoulders falling as I realized what had happened. Holly had apologized—using my phone.
“When were you planning to tell me?” Jade asked.
“Uh, I don’t know.”
“Well, then, I’m done here. We?
??re done here.” She pushed past me into the crowd. She paused next to Ivy, who stood gripping her backpack straps. “Feel free to bring him lunch again, Ivy. He’s all yours.” She lurched beyond Ivy, her back ramrod straight.
Somewhere in my mind I registered that Jade had warned Ivy away from me.
“Jade, wait! It’s not what you think!” I called after her, but I didn’t move to follow. I watched her go just so I wouldn’t have to look anyone in the face. At least fifty people were crowded around, and nobody moved until the warning bell rang.
Dim conversations started as students headed to their classes. I turned around and found Drew, Omar, and Lance still standing there, a united force behind me.
“What was that?” Drew asked, her eyes round and wide.
“I think Jade just broke up with me,” I said darkly, reaching to open my locker. A weight settled on my shoulders. Jade could not break up with me. Not when I hadn’t read her poetry, or seen a self-portrait, or finished filling out my college applications.
Omar stepped to the side, a worried look on his face. “You kissed Holly?”
That freaking kiss. “No.” I squeezed my eyes shut, and then opened them again. “Maybe.”
“How do you maybe-kiss someone?” Lance asked.
“You would know,” I snapped.
Lance pierced me with a glare. Under different circumstances he might’ve said, “And I liked it.” Or, “Glad you’ve finally joined the dark side, man.”
I probably should’ve said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Because I didn’t. Neither one of us said anything. Finally he shook his head. “Mitch, I-there’s something you need to know.”
“Really?” I asked. “And you think right now is a good time to tell me?”
He looked over my shoulder at something behind him. “Not so much. But later, okay?” He hitched his backpack on his shoulders and left.
“You kissed Holly?” Omar asked again, like it was front-page news and he needed to know all about it.
“She kissed him,” Drew said.