Authors: Katie Klein
I pick up my
cheesesteak
and take a bite. T
he meat and cheese melt in my mouth
,
drippi
ng onto my plate
,
delicious
.
“Can I give you a little free a
dvice?
” Parker continues, lips pressed in a cautious line
. “D
o with it what you want, but I think
you should forget Harvard and move
on. Yeah, it’s a huge bummer, but you can’t just up and abandon everything because one little thing didn’t go exactly as planned.”
I set my sandwich back down and wipe my mouth quickly with my napkin, d
igesting everything he’s saying,
feeling my temper flare.
“Speak for yourself. I mean
, speaking of abandoning things. Y
ou’re just going to bail, anyway. Why s
hould I listen to you?”
I ask, still chewing.
“That’s differe
nt: I’m not bailing
.
”
“What do you
call it
then, Parker?
You said yourself you’re leaving. What are you going to do? Where are you even
gonna
go?”
“
I call my plans moving on
, too. Just in a different way.” He scoots to the edge of the chair and reaches for his own sandwich, tone defensive.
“I know. And I get it. I just . . . I don’t understand why college can’t be part of that.”
He frowns
. “I thought this whole day was about you. We aren’t supposed to be talking about me and my problems.”
“It’s just
sad, Parker, that’s all,” I say
, voice softening
. “You’re so smart.”
“Yeah, well, so are you.”
“So wh
ere does that leave us?” I ask
.
“Two very smart people without an absolute, concrete pl
an for the future,” he confirms
.
I smile
.
“But before all of that, two very smart people who are probably going to be in the deepest shit imaginable w
hen they get home,” he clarifies
, brow creasing
.
The words are left
hanging in the air between us.
“But you know,” he continues
after a few, quiet seconds
, “the
moment—
good, bad,
whatever it is—doesn’t last forever.” He shrugs
. “You’ll figure something out. I’ll figure something out. Life goes on.”
*
*
*
We
return
to school
just after four o’clock in the afternoon. Parker’s motorc
ycle i
s the only vehicle left in the student parking lot
.
“Back to reality,” I mumble as he pulls
my car into the sp
ace beside it.
“But the bright side is I had a really great time today.”
I clutch
the postcard of the tree-lined street Parker paid twenty-five cents for
at one of the gift shops. It’
s of the same neighborhood
we ate
at
and shopped in. The photo was taken early in
the morning, the streets a
re empty, a
nd a few rays of sunlight peek
through a low-lying fog. “One of the best days I’ve had in
a long time, even,” I finish
.
“I’m glad.”
We climb
out of my car
, stretching our legs
. Parker leaves the engine running. He was right
: I’ll
have to stop by the gas st
ation on my way home. He grabs
his
bag and helmet
from the back seat as I circle
to the driver’s side
, thinking that this was
one of the most perfect days I
’
ve ever had.
And not necessarily because of what I did or where I
went . . . but who I was with.
I spi
n around to face him.
“It’s just that, I know I’m
gonna
have to explain everything now, and I don’t know what to say.”
He looks
up at me.
“About Harvard?”
“Yeah,” I reply
, folding my arms.
He moves
in,
standing almost on top of me,
his dark eyes
grasping mine
. “Tell them that Harvard made the biggest mistake imaginable and didn’t admit you. But it’s okay, because you’re still
gonna
go on and do great things.”
“You
make it sound so simple
.
”
“It
is
simple. No one is going to
think any less of you—especially not your family and friends. And if they do . . .
their priorities
are screwed up, not yours,
”
he finishes, voice soft
and eyes gentle
.
His words send flutters
rippling
through
the pit
of
my stomach.
My breath hitches in my throat as
Parker
tucks
my hair behind my ear for me, tracing the contour of my face.
M
y eyes
close
, and
I
lean into his hand.
His thumb moves across my lips, brushing them,
and
when I open my eyes he
’
s inching closer
. I feel that familiar pull—
that
part of me I keep
failing
to silence—and
let myself
imagine
what it would mean
to kiss
him
.
Then, like Ethan and Mat
tie on the sled, rushing toward
that
tree, an image of Blake
. . . my mom . . . Savannah . . .
flashes through my mind. I swerve
,
jolting
to reality
.
I
spri
ng
back, bumping into my car
door
, heartbeat erratic
. I steady
myself, and
clear
my throat. “Um, thank you
. A
gain
. For everything.”
I go to tuck my hair behind my ear, but Parker has already done it for me. I run my fingers through
it
anyway
, cheeks simmering with
an excited, embarrassed, and frustrated
heat
all at once
.
He smiles
ruefully
, backing away
.
“
Any time
.”
On my way to t
he gas station, I finally pull
out my cell phone. When I turn it on, I have
twenty-one
missed calls and nine
voicemail
messages. I groan
.
Maybe I should’ve left it on
. The first i
s from Savannah. S
he speaks
in hushed tones, an
d I can
hear school hallway static behind her.
“Okay, I’m just warning you that Blake is about to call. It’s second period and come to find out you have apparently bailed today, and rumor has it some people saw you leave with Parker Whalen. I’m not judging you, Jaden, but your boyfriend is pissed. Half the school is talking about it. Just . . . get your story straight, first, I guess.”
The message beeps
.
The next i
s from Blake
,
short and to the point. “It’s Blake. Call me.”
The message beeps
.
T
he next i
s Ashley. “Hey
,
girl. Did you seriously skip school today with Parker Whalen? Because if you did, I don’t know why I wasn’t informed. Cell it.”
Beep
.
Another messag
e from Blake. “It’s Blake again. J
ust trying to figure out what’s going on today. Call me.”
Beep
.
“Jaden, honey, it’s M
om. The school called wondering if you were sick. I told them you weren’t feeling well this morning, but went to school anyway. Where are you? Give me a call back.”
I groan
.
“Jaden, it’s Mom again. You’re not at school and you haven’t come home. Where are you and why isn’t your cell phone on? I better hear from you soon.”
Beep
.
“It’s Savannah, again. C
all me.”
Beep
.
“Jaden, it’s Blake. Why aren’t you returning my calls?”
Beep.
“Jaden, it’s past lunch and I haven’t heard from you. You’re grounded
the moment you walk through the
front door.”
My cell phone trills just as I’m
pulling into the
gas station. Savannah’s name lights up the screen. I answer
it.
“Oh my God
, Jaden!
We’ve been trying to call you
all day
!”
I move
the phone away from my head,
ears ringing.
“I know.
I just . . . had a moment, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry . . . does
‘
moment
’
m
ean ‘
complete and tota
l loss of
discretion’
?” she asks
.
I smile
. “Yeah, something like that.”
“So you were with Parker?”
“
Yes, I was with Parker.” There’
s no
sense
lying. It sounds like everyone already kno
w
s
,
anyway, and it’s not like I can
keep something like this from my best friend.
“And?”
“And what?”
“Do you mind explaining this a little better? I mean, Blake is going crazy, a
nd your mom called—she’s totally freaked
. I don’t know why you couldn’t of just left a note.”
“It wasn’t planned.”
“
What
happened
to you?” she asks
.
“I was. . . .” I trail
off, and let out a huge sigh. “I was having a bad day, and Parker, I don’t know, took me away for a while.”
“Where did you go?”
“Hamilton. The zoo. Lunch. We did some shopping.”
“Oh my God,” she mumbles
.
She let
s
out a tiny laugh,
like she ca
n’t trust her own ears
. Parker Whalen? Lunch and shopping?
I sm
ile
. “I know.”
“I don’t get it, though.
Skipping school?
Come on, Jaden. That’s
not like you at
all
.”
I take
a d
eep breath. At some point, I’m
going to have to start t
alking
. “I got my letter from Harvar
d yesterday,” I finally
tell her
.
Her tone
instantly
li
fts. “Really?” she asks
.
She pauses
for a moment,
getting it. “Oh. Really.”
I sigh
. “Yeah. R
eally.”
“So, um, I guess things didn’t exactly work out like you thought?”
“You could say that.”
“Oh
,
no! Jaden, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I re
ply
, shrugging. “That’s life, right?”
“But I know how important it was to you. Does, um, anyone else know?”
“N
o. And that was
kinda
the problem, I guess. I didn’t tell anyone, so when I got to school this morning I was already upset. And then I ran into Parker, and it was obvious I was upset . . . so he was the first person I told. You’re the second.”