Keep Holding On (21 page)

This week has been excruciating. Waiting to find out if Julian still wants to be with me is the worst. Lingering after class every day. Willing the phone to ring every night. It’s obvious Julian hates me. He’s never going to talk to me again.

So why does it look like he’s coming over to my locker?

This is the part where Julian tells me we’re done.

“Hey,” he says.

I can’t talk to him. If I talk to him, then he will talk back. And what he’ll talk about is how he never wants to talk to me again.

I shove my notebook in my bag. Or I’m trying to. It’s not going.

“Here.” Julian untangles the frayed lining of my bag from a notebook spiral.

“Thanks.”

“Do you want to go to the city tonight?”

“What?”

“The city? The place with all the buildings?”

“Uh. Yeah. Of course.”

“Sweet. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Okay,” I agree in a daze.

Maybe this is the part where my life gets good.

Could I possibly be more stoked for tonight?

No. No, I could not possibly be.

Julian is taking me to the city. On our first date. Aka the Most Epic Date Ever.

Sherae insisted that I come over so we could figure out what I’m wearing. She filled a big shopping bag with clothes I can borrow. I majorly owe her for that. I mean, it’s the city. I have to rock an actual look. Somehow I pulled off getting ready in time. I might even look halfway decent.

I still don’t feel 100 percent over Matt, but I know it’s time to move on. Matt was never the kind of boyfriend I wanted him to be. Deep down, I sort of knew it all along. I just didn’t want it to be true.

Mother’s not home yet. I leave her a note saying that I’m going to the movies with Sherae. Sherae is on board with this plan in the highly unlikely event that mother calls her.

There was no way I was letting Julian pick me up at home. I told him I’d meet him on the corner a few blocks away. Which is why I’m loitering on the sidewalk in front of the big house with pretty window boxes. Their yard has lots of purple flowers. The air smells like purple.

Julian’s car pulls up. I remind myself not to slam the door
when I get in. Mother’s old VW is so busted that you have to slam the door really hard on the passenger side. So I’m always slamming other people’s car doors harder than I should.

I can’t imagine ever fitting into Julian’s world. It’s hard to believe that he wants me there. But I want to trust him. At least, I want to try.

“Ready?” Julian says.

“Totally.”

He pulls away from the curb. I don’t know what music is playing, but I already like it.

“So … where are we going?” I ask.

“To the city.”

“I know, but where are we going when we get there?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Really?”

Julian nods. “You’ll love it.”

“Do I get a hint?”

“Nope.” Julian turns the music up a notch. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

“I like this song.”

“You know Bright Eyes?”

“No.”

“Stick with me and you will.”

I never knew you could have so much fun just riding in a boy’s car. It’s already the best time ever and we haven’t even gone anywhere yet. When we get to The Road, it’s way more exciting than the other times I’ve been on it. With the music playing and
windows down and streetlights zipping by, that familiar rush of driving into the night hits me harder than ever.

I sneak looks at Julian. I like the way he taps his wheel to the music. Talking with him is really easy. I was worried that we’d run out of things to talk about. But we’re discussing music and shows and art and architecture and just everything.

Every time we pass an exit, I imagine all of the places out there where I could live. There are so many places to set up a new life, so many different ways to be in this world. How do you know which one to choose?

When we get to the city, Julian finds a parking garage. I silently freak over how expensive it is. Julian is unfazed.

We walk to a cool coffeehouse called Nightfloat, where all these kids are hanging out. Some of them are definitely older, like in college, but some of them are our age. Everyone has their own original style. Not like back home where everyone wears the same standard outfits. The kids here look like they’re having deep conversations about meaningful things.

“What can I get you?” Julian asks.

“Oh, I can—” I take my wallet out of my bag.

“No way. It’s on me.”

“Well, thanks. I’ll have a coffee. Decaf.”

“What size?”

“Small.” I’m too nervous to deal with anything bigger.

“Find us a table?”

“I’ll try.” The place is packed. I manage to score us a little table against the wall right when two other kids are leaving.

I sit down. I try to relax. I can’t decide what to do with my hands.

The more I look around, the more I get the feeling that this is a coffeehouse where the stranger you are, the more you fit in. Just the way I imagined the alternate universe would be. Nightfloat is obviously a magnet for cool kids. The authentic kind of cool—being true to yourself regardless of how different you are or what anyone else thinks of you. Not the plastic suburban kind where cool is defined by blending in.

The people here get it. These fringe teens are perfect for the zine. How awesome would it be if Nightfloat let us put some copies out? They already have piles of free papers stacked on the windowsill.

Julian comes over with our drinks. I’m so nervous my hand shakes when I take my mug from him. Coffee spills on his arm.

“Sorry!” I jump up and grab some napkins at the back counter. Then I actually start wiping off his arm. Which of course makes me blush because now I’m like attacking his arm.

“No worries.” He takes the napkins from me.

Our table is really small, so we have to scrunch in. I scoot my chair in some more. But then my legs are totally touching Julian’s legs. I scoot back. But I don’t want to scoot back too far because then he’ll think I don’t want to touch him. Which I totally do.

Sitting at a table has never been this complicated.

“Cool place,” I say.

“I’m glad you like it. It’s charged and laid back at the same time, you know?”

“I was just thinking that.”

Julian leans over the table. “Check out that guy’s hat,” he says quietly.

I blow on my coffee and look casually around first. Then I steal a look at the guy. He’s wearing an electric-pink fedora with a bright red feather sticking out from the side.

“Awesome,” I declare.

There’s a bulletin board near the hat guy. It has a big poster for Mummenschanz.

“I love Mummenschanz!” I yell.

A girl at the next table with heavy glitter eye shadow and a lip ring smiles at me. “They rock,” she confirms.

It’s nice to be around people who are culturally aware enough to know what Mummenschanz is.

“What’s Mummenschanz?” Julian asks.

“Only the best performance art troupe in the world. They dress up as these weird shapes, like a big cellophane sheet or a mouth, and they … just the way they move and everything conveys all this emotion without even speaking.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“They are. My favorite one is probably the tube. It’s this big, yellow tube moving around—someone’s inside it, but you can’t see them—and there’s a huge orange balloon that the tube keeps trying to grab. And then he pushes the balloon out to the audience—”

“Wait. Were they on
The Muppet Show
?”

“Yes! A really long time ago!”

“Dude, I saw them online! They’re outrageous!”

“I know!”

“Those big, green lips—”

“—with the tongue!”

“Exactly!”

How amazing is this? No one ever knows Mummenschanz. But Julian does. And his leg is touching my leg.

He’s not moving his leg away.

I’m not moving mine, either.

“So,” Julian says. “What do you want to be?”

“Like, in general, or …?”

“In life.”

“I’m thinking of doing something with writing. Or teaching.”

“What subject?”

“I’m not sure. You want to be an architect, right?”

“You remember that?”

“Of course. Your designs are unreal.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“Your houses are like … they’re all so different, but they all feel like home. I can totally imagine living in one of them. I can’t wait to have my own home and fill it with pretty things.”

Okay, what am I even saying?
Fill it with pretty things?
I sound like such a girl. But Julian doesn’t seem bothered. We end up talking for what feels like ten minutes but is actually two hours.

“I can’t believe it’s this late already,” I say, then immediately wish I could take it back. It makes me sound like I never go anywhere. Which I don’t, but Julian doesn’t have to know that.

“Come on,” he says. “I want to show you something.”

I know we should be getting home. But I really don’t care. On the way out, I take a card so I can call the manager about stocking our zine.

We walk a few blocks to the mystery destination. Julian won’t tell me where we’re going. I wish we lived here. I’d have to adjust to the noise, though. I’m used to nothing but crickets and quiet. City sounds are all incessant traffic and a million voices and random bursts of music. Even some of the buildings have their own sound, like a humming.

I want to stay out all night. I wish we never had to go back.

“Don’t look over here,” Julian tells me after we cross the street. “Look over there.”

“But I can’t see where I’m going.”

“Don’t worry.” Julian holds my hand. “I’ve got you.”

Keeping my head turned to the side, I let Julian guide me the rest of the way.

“We’re here,” he says. “You can look.”

At first I think he’s talking about the office building we’re in front of. I can’t figure out why he’d bring me here. I mean, it’s a nice building with its glossy black glass and window walls of light, but …

Then I see it. Outside the main entrance between two sets of benches. It’s Brancusi’s
Bird in Space
. Except it can’t be the real one. It has to be a replica.

“How did you know this was here?” I ask.

“I didn’t. I had to do some research.”

We go over. I’m mesmerized by how real it looks. The shiny bronze surface. The distinct curvature. The way it looks like it’s
in motion even though it’s standing still. It’s all here. I could be looking at the real sculpture and not even know the difference.

I reach out to touch it, then pull my hand back.

“Go ahead,” he says.

So I do. I run my fingers down the curved side. The bronze is cool and smooth.

“This is incredible,” I say. “I can’t believe you found it for me.”

“I’d do anything for you. Don’t you know that by now?”

And then.

Julian kisses me.

I kiss him back. His lips are soft. Way softer than I thought they’d be.

We’re totally making out on the street in the city. Like people who live their lives with no regrets. It’s even more intense than all those times I imagined.

I have to step back and look at Julian to convince myself this is actually happening.

“I know things are rough for you,” Julian says. “I hate the way those morons treat you at school.” He brushes some hair away from my face that’s fallen out of its little clip. “I want to protect you from all that.”

“I don’t think you can.”

“Let me try. Let me be the one you can count on.”

I know I’m taking a massive risk with Julian. He could end up breaking my heart just like I was always afraid he would. But maybe not. Maybe he really means what he says.

It’s time to take a big leap and hope he’ll be there to catch me.

The only thing
I could think about all weekend was kissing Julian. The second I wake up, I think about kissing Julian. Getting ready for school, I think about kissing Julian. I even catch myself smiling as I’m waiting for the bus, feeling Julian’s arms around me, remembering how it felt when his lips were finally on mine.

Jasmine gives me a weird look on the bus.

“What’s with you?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re smiling. You never smile.”

“That’s because I never had any reason to smile.”

“Until now.”

“Exactly.”

“What’s his name?”

“Who?”

“The boy who’s making you smile.”

“How do you know there’s a boy?”

“Please,” Jasmine says. “Just because I’m in sixth grade doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

“Julian. His name is Julian.”

“Sexy name. I approve.”

I let myself be taken to school in a daze. The combination of lack of sleep and raging hormones is making me light-headed. If I have any hope of focusing today, I have to stop thinking about the kissing. Plus, I heard that every time you access a memory, you rewrite it a little bit. So our memories change over time. This is one memory I want to keep intact for as long as I can.