Aspen (24 page)

Suzy walks out of the bathroom and notices the rose in my hand. “Do you still have yours?”

“No.” I spin the stem around in my fingers.

“I actually meant to give it to Katelyn, but I forgot.”

“Give it to Katelyn?”

“For her grave.” Suzy’s voice is soft. Her eyes get sad for a moment.

“Oh.” I set the rose down.

She sits on her bed and slips a pair of brown knee high boots over her jeans. “Mrs. Ryan had us all go visit her on Christmas. It was Katelyn’s birthday.”

“Christmas?” I perk up.

“I know. It’s such a shitty time to have a birthday. You don’t get nearly the number of presents you would on any other day.” Suzy laughs. “Katelyn hated it.”

“Was something wrong with Katelyn?” I blurt out.

Suzy gets stiff and scoots back from me on the bed. “Why do you ask?” I ease back, feeling bad that I made my friend so tense.

“It’s nothing. I just . . . ” I stand and pick up a lipstick from the pile on Suzy’s dresser. I can’t I think of what to say. Suzy doesn’t move.

“I had to wrestle scissors out of her hands once,” she says.

“What?” I look at Suzy’s reflection in the mirror. Her eyes aren’t on me. They’re fixed on her knotted, white fingers.

“Katelyn wanted to cut all her hair off. I grabbed the scissors just in time. She only managed to snip a few strands.”

“But she had such nice hair.”

“She sliced me, she was so mad. I had to get stitches.” Suzy spreads her palm out on her lap, turning her hand to face me. She runs her finger over the light scar. “It was an accident. She apologized.”

“Suzy . . . ” I begin, but she cuts me off when she notices the shocked look on my face.

“Don’t tell anyone. Mrs. Ryan would kill me.”

I nod slowly, still clutching the lipstick.

“That color would look good on you.” Suzy points to it.

“It’s not really my style.” I set it down.

“I’m wearing a tie-dye. You can wear lipstick.”

Suzy paints my lips with rosy pink and tells me when to press together.

“It’s totally you.” She turns me toward the mirror.

I don’t look at my lips. I can only focus on the girl standing behind me.

“You’re a really good friend,” I say.

Suzy’s eyebrows rise. Her chin starts to shake, like she’s holding back a waterfall of tears that want to break free. “Thank you.”

Tom’s house looks totally dead. From the street, it looks like no one’s home. No lights are on. We tiptoe up the driveway—and I hear someone whispering our names from the side of the house.

Tom’s blond hair shines in the moonlight, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He needs stock in hair gel. He motions for us to come around back.

“It’s good to see you, locker buddy.” He pulls me into a hug, his cigarette smoke going up my nose. “You too, Suz.” She curtsies as he offers me his cigarette. “You want a hit?”

“No thanks.”

He tosses it on the ground and rubs it out with his shoe. “Let’s get you guys a drink.”

The inside of Tom’s house is a stark contrast to what it looks like from the outside. Music blares; people stand around his kitchen, drinking and talking too loudly. Someone yells Suzy’s name the second we’re in the door and she gives me a hug before disappearing into another room.

The inside of Tom’s fridge is lined with condiments, beer and shots. He hands me a silver beer can.

“Happy New Year, beautiful.” Tom pops the top of my beer, and it foams, almost dripping down the side. “Why don’t you take off your coat and stay awhile?” He moves to help me out of my jacket.

“That’s okay.” I step back. “In case of a quick getaway,” I add.

Tom taps his temple. “Good thinking.”

I glance around the party, as more people walk in the back door.

“You look hot tonight.”

“Did you just call me hot?” I ask.

“Maybe.” Tom puts his arm around me.

I peel it away and say, “I’m gonna go find Suzy.”

“Find me at midnight,” he hollers after me.

People are scattered everywhere in the house, laughing and talking loudly over the music. I look for Suzy’s shirt in the crowd and see she’s not the only one wearing tie-dye. There are at least three other people. I shake my head and chug the rest of my beer, setting the empty down on a table. Through the windows, I can see a beat-up old teeter-totter in Tom’s backyard. I make a quick exit out the back door.

In the cold, I push the air out of my lungs. I sit down on the teeter-totter and gaze up at the stars. The cold air makes everything seem clearer and brighter. The moon hangs in the sky, half full, lighting the black to grey. Almost like a light shining down on everything. It gives the trees a shadow even in the darkness.

“These things usually work better with two people.” Ben sits down on the other end of the teeter-totter, lifting me into the air.

“I was actually saving that for Tom. He just needed to gel his hair first.”

Ben laughs and pushes off the ground. I come down, my knees pulling up toward my stomach. We ride back and forth like this for a while, and then he says, “I’m sorry again about Christmas.”

“Don’t be. Are you going to do it again tonight?”

“I’m off the hard stuff for a while.”

“Bummer. How am I supposed to get you in my bed again?”

Ben floats back down to the ground as I rise in the air. He’s smiling.

“I like long walks on the beach and a band called Beta Particle, but you’ve probably never heard of them.”

“Never. They must be new.”

“It was Katelyn’s birthday,” he says, practically into his shirt. “Her mom made us go to her grave. I hate cemeteries.”

“I think that’s a good thing. You’re not supposed to
want
to be there.”

“Right,” Ben says, a smile returning to his face. “Wanna play a game?”

“That’s my line.” I push myself high into the air as Ben floats down.

“I ask you a question and you answer with the first thing that pops into your head.”

“This isn’t a game. It’s a trick.”

“Maybe.”

“Bring it on.”

“Okay.” Ben rubs his hands together. “Favorite season?” he asks.

“Spring.”

“Favorite fruit?”

“Raspberries.”

“Favorite flower?”

“Daisies.”

“Favorite song?”

“Anything by the Dead.”

“That’s cheating but I’ll let it go.” Ben grins. “Run, bike or swim?”

“Swim.”

“Outside or inside?”

“Outside.”

“Warm or cold?”

“Warm.”

“Windows or air-conditioning?”

“Windows.”

“Best thing you did today?”

“This.” I smile and push off the ground.

“The teeter-totter or me?”

“Technically, I didn’t
do
you today.”

Ben wags his finger. “There’s still time. Tom will be disappointed, though.”

I laugh as Ben lands on the ground. He stares down at the teeter-totter, his once relaxed face turning perplexed. “Don’t leave me hanging here,” I say, and tap on the wood.

“I could have answered all of those questions for you.”

“I’m that predictable?”

“I know you that well,” Ben says. He gets off the teeter-totter, slowly setting me on the ground. He paces back and forth, hands stuffed in his pockets. I wipe my pants as I stand, checking behind me to see if I have any residual dirt on my butt.

A moment later, Ben is standing in front of me, almost nose to nose. Instinct makes me want to take a step back, my stomach flying to my throat, but I manage to stay still.

“I’m not supposed to be happy with you.” Ben’s eyes are serious. More serious than I’ve ever seen them. My heart pounds in my ears.

“Why?”

“Because it makes me forget.”

“If you ask me, forgetting isn’t so bad.”

Ben runs his hands through his hair, his brow knitted tight. So tight it might stay that way. He holds my shoulders, like he’s worried I might run away. I suck in a breath when he presses his forehead to mine.

“I can’t make the past go away,” he whispers.

“Even though it’s already done.”

He pulls back. My forehead goes cold. “But maybe it’s not about making it go away. Maybe it’s about moving on,” he says.

Ben’s hands are shaking. He leans in, inches from my face. I can practically feel lips on mine.

“You can’t leave me, Aspen,” he whispers.

And then Ben’s lips really are on mine. They’re warm and soft, and for just a moment, I feel as though I’ve fallen out of my body. That I’m floating somewhere inches above the ground.

“I need you,” he says in my ear.

“Like air.” I whisper back. Ben nods. And we both breathe.

“Look at what we have here.” Olivia’s voice is like cold water splitting pavement. Ben and I separate. She stands with Claire, arms crossed over her chests. Olivia clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “The king and the queen.”

“
Puta
,” Claire spits at me.

I stumble over the words in my head, but I can’t get anything out. Everything turns red . . . then blue . . . then red.

A second passes, then two. Tom’s back door flies open and a sea of people come streaming out.

“The cops!” Suzy yells as she takes off down the driveway. People scatter in different directions. Olivia and Claire dash into the neighbor’s yard. There’s yelling and running and beer cans everywhere. It’s a quick getaway. But somehow in the chaos, Ben manages to grab my hand.

My house is dark from the outside. Ben and I haven’t said anything. I’m not sure I want to.

He stops on my front porch. I can’t read the expression on his face.

“What did Claire say in Spanish?” I ask.

Ben shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“I thought you said your mom was from Mexico.” I nudge him in the shoulder.

“Yeah and she moved here when she was like two. She’s more American than Ninny. The jury is still out on where
she
actually came from.”

I laugh too loudly and then look around like the cops might be following us.

“That was . . . ” Ben trails off, his eyes searching around, looking anywhere but at my face.

“Nice,” I say.

He exhales. “It was?”

“You don’t think so?” I step back.

“No.”

“No, you don’t think it was nice?” I take another step.

“No,” Ben yells and grabs my arms, yanking me back to him. Before I can take a breath, his lips are on mine. My knees give out a little, but Ben holds me steady. When he pulls back, he says, “That was more than nice.”

I smile, my lips warm again.

In my house, we both stand at the end of the bed. It looks different now. Bigger or smaller or sexier. I become acutely aware that there’s a box of condoms in my drawer. Neither of us moves.

“Ninny is at Toaster’s,” I say, flatly.

“Maybe I should go.” Ben points to the door.

“Don’t.” I grab Ben’s hand. When I crawl back on the bed, he takes off his shoes. I pull down the sheets. We don’t say a word as we nestle down in the bed. I rest my cheek on Ben’s chest and listen to his heartbeat.

“I sleep better when you’re next to me,” I say, and yawn.

“Me, too,” Ben says. “Happy New Year, Aspen”

“I hope so,” I say.

I don’t wake up until there’s sunshine spilling through my window. I pick my head up and feel my cheek. The pillow crease has left an impression. My head swims with grogginess. I get lost for a moment, after so many hours of sleep.

When I feel Ben’s chest rising and falling under my head, it all comes back to me. The party, the cops, the kiss. The fact that I’m pretty sure Claire called me a not-so-nice name in Spanish. I turn to glance up at Ben, resting my chin on his shoulder.