Determination (36 page)

Dozens of students passed me as I sat alone and drank my soda.

The sugar and caffeine gave me a nice little jolt while I waited for my next class. The hall where I needed to be was just around the corner from where I sat. I pulled my syllabus out of the bag and started to write my reading and writing assignments in the day planner I’d picked out at the bookstore. Between the brain damage and the hectic schedule of my new life, I’d never remember all of the assignments, meetings, and other commitments I had without it.

My hand shook slightly as I finished writing the last assignment in the book. I took another drink and tried not to think about it.

Checking the time on my phone, I saw I only had about ten minutes to get to class. The class, English 201: An Introduction to Shakespeare, sounded as if it would be interesting. The next day, I’d have an introduction to poetry. Mr. Stewart had wanted to sign me up for two additional classes when I met with him, but I didn’t want to overload myself the first semester since I didn’t know how my body or my brain would react to college.

“We’re one short. Could I move your bag onto that table?”

I looked up to see a small group of people, maybe in their late teens or early twenties, starting to sit down around me. The girl who’d asked about my bag had soft-looking brown hair and kind, friendly brown eyes that reminded me of Brian’s eyes. Quickly, I grabbed my messenger bag and pulled it onto my lap so that she could sit down.

“Thanks,” she said, but rather than turning toward her friends, she continued to face me in her chair. Tossing her long hair over one shoulder, she pulled the hem of her T-shirt down over the top of her jean shorts and crossed her legs. It almost looked flirtatious. When she smiled at me and bit her bottom lip, I knew she was flirting. To be honest, I was flattered, but it reminded me of Emma back in Alabama Determination

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and what happened to Brian as a result. “You were just in Stewart’s freshman comp class, right?”

“Yeah, I have an intro Shakespeare class next,” I said absently as I started packing my syllabus and planner back into the bag. She turned to her right and grabbed the hand of the boy sitting next to her. He was clothing-commercial pretty, generic and preppy, with cropped brown hair that barely touched his ears. The polo shirt he wore pulled a bit of green out in his otherwise brown eyes, but the way he pulled the collar to stand up made me want to fix it for him, and not in a “I just wanted to touch you” kind of way.

“I’m Kate, and this is my boyfriend, Greg,” she said, and the boy turned to nod and give me a quick “hey” before going back to his conversation with another guy. It sounded like they were talking about sports, but Kate started talking again, so I couldn’t be sure. “This is our first semester too.”

“I’m Jamie,” I said and pulled my messenger bag to my chest.

With the introduction of her boyfriend, I felt more comfortable talking to her. I didn’t have many friends in California, just Alex, Em, and Mike. In Alabama, I’d had a lot of friends, or at least casual friends I hung out with when I wasn’t with Brian. Looking back, it seemed I spent most of my time with him growing up, isolating myself. Pulling my bag tighter against my chest, I stopped the pain thinking about him brought and focused on the girl in front of me.

“Your accent sounds kind of Southern. Where are you from, Jamie?” She sounded genuinely interested, which surprised me. I wasn’t used to people taking such an active interest in me. On the street, people spent a lot of time treating me like the invisible man.

“I moved to California a few years ago, but I grew up in Alabama,” I explained. Our first meeting didn’t seem like a good time to get into
why
I moved to California or what happened afterward. No one needed to hear that little horror story.

“That’s awesome. Greg and I have lived here, like, forever,” she said as she picked up her brown-and-pink floral backpack from the floor where she’d dropped it when she sat down. Then she stood up and bumped her boyfriend’s arm.

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“We should head to class, guys,” she told the group. “Come on, Jamie, you can sit with us.” I stared at her for a second and felt so many different emotions rise up in my chest I couldn’t process them at first. It had been a long time since someone wanted to be friends with me because of me, rather than because of what I could give them or do for them. Mike and Em became friends because of Brian, not because they liked me. I also felt panicky. Back in Alabama, making friends was easy, but now I was a gay, seizure-laden, recovering addict who used to do gay porn. Plus, I had to sit in the front if the lecture hall had stairs, so what point was there in agreeing?

I made a noncommittal noise and followed the group to a small classroom off the next corridor. Because it was easier than arguing, I took a seat next to Kate and pulled out my tape recorder, pen, and notebook.

It seemed I had met my first college friends.

“LINDA, he said that we were supposed to read those sonnets for the next class. We can’t go out tonight,” Kate said with a laugh as we sat around a table in the school’s cafeteria eating lunch. With my classes over, I had a lot of open time until my dad picked me up after he got off work. Originally, I had planned to use that time to read or work on homework. It never occurred to me that I would meet people who wanted to hang out with me on my very first day. It made the experience much easier to deal with. I wasn’t the junkie. I wasn’t the porn star. I wasn’t the freak. I could just be Jamie, and that was okay.

“I read those in high school. They haven’t changed,” Linda replied as she rolled her eyes. She adjusted the high ponytail of blonde curls on top of her head. “Besides, how are Shakespearean sonnets going to help me get an internship with
Vogue
? They aren’t. Going out, being seen, following the trends—that’s how I’m going to write for them.” Though I normally wouldn’t advocate skipping assignments or class, I had to admit her logic sounded solid.

“Fine, but I’m not staying out late. The last time you dragged me to that club, we were out until almost noon the next day,” Kate replied.

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It didn’t take her long to relent, so either she wanted to go out in the first place, or she had a problem saying no to her friends. I suspected it to be a bit of both.

“What about you, Jamie? You want to go out with us tonight?”

Linda asked as she speared another forkful of salad. She turned in her chair and propped one foot up on the seat next to her. “It’s just a club where we can dance and maybe drink a little.”

“I can’t,” I said automatically. “I have plans tonight, but thanks.”

Of course I didn’t, but with the seizures, I didn’t want to go out with a group of people I didn’t know. If I were going to test going out dancing, it would be with Em, Alex, and Mike, because I knew if something happened, they would take care of me until I could care for myself. The same level of trust just wasn’t there with my new school friends, no matter how nice they seemed.

“Okay, cool, maybe some other time,” she said with a shrug and started talking to Kate about a movie they’d seen together over the weekend. I noticed that Kate’s boyfriend, Greg, was absent from the lunch gathering, and I wondered if he had another class.

“Hey, where’s Greg? Is he in class?” I asked, more because I was curious than because I actually cared. Hanging out with them was nice in a superficial way, but I didn’t see us becoming the best of friends.

“Oh, he’s at practice. They have an intramural wrestling team.

Greg went to state last year so they’re lucky to get him,” she answered and beamed around her straw.

They must have thought I had a head injury after that, because I spent the rest of our time tuned out and thinking about nubile young men writhing on a mat in the gym. Thankfully, my jeans were loose, because the raging hard-on I got while sitting at the table would have been rather uncomfortable otherwise. For a long time, I imagined spandex over muscle, hips pumping into the air as a boy tried to break his partner’s hold, strong legs wrapped around another boy in frenzied movements.

“You okay, Jamie?” Kate asked as she stood up to leave. “You look a little flushed. Are you getting a cold or something?” I shook my 236

Jamie Mayfield

head, trying to dispel the thought of Em in a hot little wrestling uniform, humping his hips against the mat.

“I’m just tired, thanks,” I replied as I felt my cheeks heat up just a little with the lie. After giving my body a few minutes to settle back down, I grabbed my bag and headed for the library. There were some comfortable-looking couches in there where I could sit and read the assigned sonnets. I also had a couple of intro writing assignments to do, and I wanted to map them out. I had a meeting the following night, and Em had mentioned something about going out for his birthday on Friday night.

When I got into the library, I pulled my day planner from my bag and checked to make sure that was all I had going on during the week.

The doctor’s appointment scheduled for Thursday morning surprised me, and I tried to remember if I’d told my father so he could take me.

Not being able to drive was infuriating. My class started at eleven, and my appointment was for nine. If my dad dropped me at the doctor’s office on his way to work, I could always cab it to school. At least then he wouldn’t have to take any more time off.

I finished entering all my assignments into the planner while I waited for the text from Dad to tell me he was on his way to pick me up. The classes I’d attended that day didn’t seem like they were going to have a ton of work to them, but the Shakespeare class made me nervous. A lot of memorization and reading comprehension would be required, and I wasn’t sure I could still do that. I’d just take that one step at a time.

Mr. Stewart explained during his long and tiresome reading of the syllabus that we would need to keep a sort of writing journal over the semester. It should include anything we found interesting: clippings, pictures, snatches of conversation, bits of scenes we came up with, dreams, or anything else that might or might not inspire us to write. We could use any format we wanted, like a leather-bound book, spiral notebook, or typed into the computer. If we were going to use the computer, he recommended a program called OneNote from Microsoft, but I decided to stop by a bookstore on the way home with my dad and pick up a nice bound journal. For those of us who would be writing for Determination

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a living, Mr. Stewart said that book would become our best friend. I wanted something that inspired me.

My phone chirped, so I pulled it out to let my dad know I was at the library, but the text wasn’t from my dad. Em’s name appeared on the display.

[Emilio]
Hey, babe, I can’t wait to see you Friday night. Wear
something sexy for me?

A barking laugh escaped my chest, and a few annoyed library patrons looked over at me with identical scowls. It reminded me of synchronized swimming, only with facial expressions instead of backstrokes. I waved at them and tried not to grin.

[Jamie]
Like what?

I typed the reply and made a mental note to pack an extra set of clothes in case I had a seizure at the club. A month ago, I never would have gone, but with the new medication, I’d had fewer and fewer problems. Of course, the threat never went away, but at least I could start to function again.

[Emilio]
Shirtless with tight jeans and go commando.

Snorting again, I threw my stuff into my messenger bag and headed for the door. My dad would be there any time to pick me up, and I didn’t want to make him wait.

[Jamie]
Dude, I have scars. Besides, I haven’t been to the gym in
forfreakingever. I’m not going shirtless.

Life had been so chaotic since I’d gotten to my dad’s house I hadn’t even thought about the gym. The campus had one, and as a student, I got a membership, but I wanted stuff to settle down before I considered going over there. One of the things Christian had repeated to me the last time we talked was that I could only do what I could do.

He wanted me to slow down and enjoy my second chance at life. More than once, he’d emphasized to me that I didn’t want to stress myself out. Stress would make the cravings worse, and they were bad enough already.

My phone chirped again.

[Dad]
I’m leaving work now. I’ll be there in about 15 min
.

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Jamie Mayfield

So I responded to my dad just as another text came in from Em.

[Emilio]
You’re gorgeous, and come on, it’s my birthday.

I was still laughing when my dad pulled up outside the library.

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Twenty

“OH MY God, do you remember Brian dancing with us like this?” Em yelled over my shoulder as Mike’s fingers skated across my stomach underneath the tight T-shirt. The ache in my chest intensified at the mention of his name. It killed me that he didn’t come to celebrate Em’s birthday with us. While no one needed to say it out loud, he didn’t want to be near me. To be perfectly honest, it pissed me off. Em deserved better than his indifference.