Aspen (15 page)

We find a new shirt to for me to wear to the homecoming game. It’s a white peasant blouse with red, blue, and orange flowers embroidered around the neckline.

“Hippie chic,” Suzy calls it. “It’s totally you.”

Ninny’s ten dollars covers about one sleeve of the shirt, but it’s better than nothing.

At one point on the drive back to Boulder, Suzy turns to me and says, “Just because someone is dead, doesn’t mean that they’re gone. I think after death might just be the time when we’re most alive to people.” She looks back at the road.

“Maybe.”

“You know you can talk to me about what happened. That’s what friends are for,” Suzy says.

I turn toward the window, unable to look Suzy in the eye, and play with the hole in the knee of my jeans. “I know.”

The night of the game, I pace around my room practicing the smile I’ll need to produce if I win queen. I’m pretty sure I look like I’m struggling with a bad case of gas. Pulling on the bags under my eyes, I examine the scar on my forehead. A straight faded pink line that will never go away.

When the pacing verges on manic, I sit down in front of my computer and flip through the pictures of Katelyn on her Facebook page. After she died, her parents memorialized it. People posted pictures and notes and condolences to the family. Her face was a constant in my newsfeed. It was enough to drive me not to log onto Facebook. That and Facebook is officially archaic. But after shopping with Suzy, I pulled up Katelyn’s page again and went through the pictures like a hundred times trying to see what everyone else sees.

I pause on a picture and click to see the comments.

I look for a comment made by Suzy but can’t find one. I lean into the screen, examining it closely. I try to see a beautiful angel. Putting my finger on the computer, I touch Katelyn’s blue eyes.

Her blue eyes.

A chill goes up my spine as something flashes in my peripheral vision. I turn my computer off quickly and glance around for Katelyn; she’s here somewhere, even if I can’t find her.

“It’s just a crown,” I say to her. “Don’t be so superficial.”

Ninny and Toaster are waiting on the couch when I walk downstairs. Ninny makes me twirl in a circle to show off my outfit. I’m in my bell-bottoms and the “hippie chic” shirt Suzy helped me find. I put cover-up under my eyes and some pink cheek dye I picked up at Walgreens and my hair is pulled half back in two braids Ninny helped me do earlier, with a few loose curls around my face.

“Beautiful, baby,” Ninny says.

I smile. I don’t care how often Ninny says it; I’ll never get sick of my mom calling me beautiful.

“Like mother, like daughter,” Toaster says, wrapping his lanky arm around her shoulder. I roll my eyes. I still hate him.

Kim and Cass meet at my house, and we all pile into Ninny’s van. Cass sits on the floor, picking chocolate chunks out of the melted mint chocolate chip ice cream stain on the upholstery, and Kim and I take the back seat. It’s starting to smell. I bite back the urge to yell at Ninny and tell her to clean her damn car.

Uncle Toaster sits shotgun and gives Ninny a neck massage with his gross long fingers the entire drive. I gag, and Kim giggles into her sleeve.

We park at the football field parking lot. At the gate, Cass gives me a big hug, spinning me around in a circle.

“Don’t forget us when you’re queen,” he says.

“Don’t forget to smile,” Kim adds.

“And wave.” Cass imitates a Miss America wave.

“You look stupid.” Kim knocks his arm.

“You look Asian,
Kim
.”

I walk away as they both start singing, “Bye-bye, Miss American Pie, drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry.” Ninny and Toaster join in, laughing.

“It’s just a crown,” I say to myself.

I walk through the crowd to the spot where Ella instructed us to meet on the opposite side of the field. Football players run up and down the field, knees high, doing warm-ups. The band plays as people take their seats in the stadium, the lights bright on the field. Most of the trees are bare now, their gold and red leaves scattering on the ground. An icy chill fills the air. I pull in a cold breath and shake my hands out at my sides.

A huddle of people stands at the exact spot Ella Vega told us to go. The scents of expensive perfume and powder fill the air.

My stomach growls. I didn’t eat anything before we left.

“Hey,” Ben says, coming up behind me.

“Your ugly shirt.” I point to the blue button-down he’s wearing, the one from the beginning of the school year.

“I thought you said it looked weird, not ugly.”

“It’s the same thing. And I thought you said you hated it.”

We stand quiet for a moment, neither of us moving toward the crowd.

“I got the stain out,” Ben says.

“Baking soda?”

“Worked like a charm.” He winks. And we wait. “Well,
you
look nice tonight.”

“I didn’t say
you
look ugly. I said
that shirt
is ugly.”

“And weird.”

“Yes.”

“Aspen!” Suzy yells, and bounds over to us, her cheerleading skirt flying up as she bounces. “And Ben.” Suzy gives my arm a squeeze and smiles a naughty grin.

“Suzy,” Ben says and takes a step back.

“Well, now that we’ve all announced ourselves,” I say, and walk over to the group of nominees. Olivia gives me a sideways glance and says something to Claire in Spanish. The only second language Ninny ever taught me was stoner lingo.

Judging by the snarled look on Olivia’s face when Ben stands next to me, whatever she’s is saying isn’t all peace, love and happiness.

“I’m putting you next to the person you’ll walk down the field with!” Ella yells over the commotion like a drill sergeant. She walks down the line, shifting people like chess pieces. When she grabs my shoulders, I move to stand next to Tom Ingersol. He’s dressed in his purple and gold football uniform. In his pads he looks about seven feet tall. Even more like a video game avatar.

“First down the field is freshman court, followed by sophomores and then juniors,” Ella says. She hands roses to each of the girls. “Seniors will be announced one couple at a time. When you hear your name, walk down the fifty yard line and stop halfway.”

Across the field, people shuffle to their seats in the bleachers, filling the entire “home” section. I look for Ninny in the crowd, but everyone blends together into colorful blobs.

“I guess we’ve gone from locker buddies to a couple,” Tom says out of the corner of his mouth. “A step in the right direction.”

“Don’t tell my boyfriend,” I say.

“You have a boyfriend?”

“No. I was making a joke.”

“Oh.” Tom forces out a fake laugh.

“No laughing,” Ella yells. “This is serious.”

Tom buttons his lips closed. I can’t help but chuckle.

“When Mr. James announces the king and queen, those two people will come to the center of the group to get their crowns. Smile and wave, you got it?”

The group nods in unison.

“Let’s do this,” Ella says.

She sends the underclassmen down the field two at a time until all that’s left are the seniors. I look down the line at Ben. He’s paired with Claire and they’re holding hands. I get the urge to hit her in the forehead with a giant spitball. When he catches me staring, I stand up straight, eyes trained down the field.

“Aspen Taylor and Tom Ingersol.” Our names echo around the stadium.

“That’s us.” Tom offers me his arm. As we walk, the noise from the crowd becomes muted in my ears, like I’m swimming underwater. I sing “American Pie” in my head.

We stand in a line, in front of hundreds of people who live in my town, who until this past summer probably didn’t know my name. Now, all eyes are on me.

I find a good-looking family sitting in the front row of the bleachers. The little boy has popcorn.

My stomach turns. I should have eaten.

Ninny used to take me to drum circles on Pearl Street when I was little. But no football games. And Uncle Jose took me to the rodeo once. I fell off a horse.

The little boy offers his dad some popcorn. The dad takes a handful and passes it down the line to the mom. She shakes her head.

“This year’s homecoming king is—” Mr. James takes a dramatic pause.

The mom holds the bag of popcorn in her lap. She doesn’t offer it to the girl sitting at her side.

“Ben Tyler.”

I stare blankly at Katelyn sitting with her family in the bleachers. She’s crying.

I cough to clear the lump in my throat. The lights on the field are so bright. I blink three times in a row.

“God, can someone turn down the wattage?” I mutter.

Katelyn doesn’t go away. She doesn’t stop crying.

“What?” Tom whispers.

White spots fill the corners of my vision. “No wonder we suck at football. How can you see anything with all these lights?”

“Suck at football?” His voice gets louder.

I rub my temples and close my eyes. “Yes. But it’s not your fault. It’s these damn lights.”

“And this year’s homecoming queen is . . . ”

I can hear her crying. Tears from her blue eyes.

“Aspen Taylor.”

I look up to the evening sky as I get pushed down the line. I stumble over my feet. I can’t breathe.

“Aspen, look at me.” Ben’s voice sounds in my ears. I squint my eyes at him.

“It’s so bright.”

He grabs my hand. It’s balled in a ninja-tight grip at my side. Like I’m ready to punch someone. Claire, maybe. But I can’t feel anything in my hands.

Ben peels each of my fingers open. One at a time. My pale white skin flushing back to life. Until my palm is free. He slides his hand into mine.

“Just breathe,” he says.

I look back at the crowd. Katelyn is gone. And finally someone turns down the lights.

“Smile and wave,” Ella says, pushing a plastic tiara onto my head. It pinches as it presses through my hair and into my skull. An underclassman snaps a few pictures for the yearbook.

“Are you okay?” Ben asks through his smile.

“I didn’t eat anything.”

“Are you sure that’s it?”

I pull my hand free from Ben’s and nod.

Ella ushers us off the field as people congratulate us. Ninny runs over, Cass and Kim following close behind. She flings her arms around my neck, squeezing to near-suffocation levels. “You did it, baby!” she yells.

“Is that real?” Cass touches the tiara on my head; I swat his hand away, but Kim doesn’t say anything. She looks from me to Ben and back again, a discerning look on her face. I try to ignore it.

Ninny goes right up to Ben and plants a kiss on his lips. “You can
study
with Aspen anytime, Benny.”

“Thanks.” He laughs uncomfortably as Ninny steps back. “Aspen, I need to talk to you.” He pulls me away from the group of people, drawing me over to a corner next to the bleachers. People still stare at us, but Ben doesn’t seem to care. “What the hell just happened?” He leans into me as he speaks.

“I didn’t eat.”

“I know that. What else?”

I close my eyes and for a second I hear her again. “I just thought . . . ”

When I look back at Ben, his eyes get big and the blood drains from his cheeks. He takes a step back as a woman approaches us.

“I wanted to congratulate you.” Katelyn’s mom wraps her arms around Ben, giving him a hug. Not a strong hug, but the kind when people lightly tap your back.

“Thanks,” Ben says into her ear.

Mrs. Ryan brushes Ben’s shoulder off like she’s dusting a mantel, and then leaves her hand, resting there. He looks frozen. “You’re wearing the shirt Katelyn gave you. She always loved you in that,” Mrs. Ryan says. “I’m only sad it couldn’t have been Katelyn standing next to you.”

Ben nods slowly.

And then Mrs. Ryan turns to me. “You look very nice, Aspen. That’s an interesting shirt.” Her gaze is blank. “Why don’t you come and sit with the family for the game?” she says to Ben.

“I don’t—”

But Mrs. Ryan cuts him off. “It’s only right we should be together, don’t you think? For Katelyn. You know I truly believe that she can still see us. I bet it would make her smile, knowing we’re all together.”

I stare at Mrs. Ryan’s hand, perched on Ben’s shoulder.

“I’ll see you later, Aspen,” Ben says to me before walking away.

I don’t move. All I can feel is the tiara on my head. Ninny comes over a second later. “Mickey said free shakes at Shakedown Street,” she whispers in my ear.

“What?” I turn to her, my head cloudy.

Ninny scans my face as if she’s trying to read my mind. “You’re pale, baby.”

“Did you say something about food? I need food.”

“Then let’s get out of here.” Ninny wraps her arm around me.

As we’re walking out of the stadium, I can’t help but glance over my shoulder one more time at Ben. Mrs. Ryan’s hand hasn’t left Ben’s shoulder. Like a bird clawing on a tree branch. And as if Ben can sense me looking, he finds me in the crowd. For a moment, our eyes lock.

Then he turns back away and tucks in his shirt, like he did at the beginning of the school year. He straightens, pulling his shoulders back. Like a proper king.

Ninny cooks for Kim, Cass, Jason and me before the homecoming dance. She spends all day in the kitchen, making weird noises and cursing. At one point it sounds like a symphony of pots and pans, and I ask Ninny if Toaster is over. When it gets so bad that a mini fire breaks out, she gives up and runs to the grocery store for frozen pizza.