The Beginning of Everything (9 page)

“When can I take this off?” I asked.

“When you tell me where you're applying to college,” she said mischievously.

I shrugged. That question was easy.

“Probably here, maybe some other state schools.”

I could tell instantly that I'd said the wrong thing.

“So that's it?” Cassidy asked. “You're fine with spending your whole life in the same twenty square miles?”

Wordlessly, I took off the crown and examined it.

“Well, it isn't as though I'm going to be
recruited
anywhere.”

“Oh.” Cassidy's cheeks reddened, and she fiddled with her napkin for a moment. “Sorry. I hadn't realized.”

“No, it's fine. One state school's as good as the next. I wasn't exactly aiming for the Ivy League.”

“Why not?” Cassidy asked curiously. “Everyone from Barrows is.”

It wasn't the sort of question I was used to encountering: why not Harvard or Yale? The answer was obvious: because no one expected me to attend schools like those. I'd never shown a serious interest in academics, and I'd played tennis hoping our team would make All State, not training for the Olympics. The vast majority of my classmates, myself included, had never even seen it snow.

“I don't really think I'd fit in,” I finally said.

“No, of course not.” Cassidy's tone dripped scorn. “You'd prefer to fit in with the brainless jocks who win high-school popularity contests and the vapid girls who worship them.”

“In case you hadn't noticed, I don't exactly fit in with them, either.”

Cassidy started laughing.

“Ezra,” she said slowly, “
everyone
has noticed.”

I leaned over and placed the crown of flowers onto her head, letting my hands linger in her hair just a moment more than was necessary.

And I suppose I should have tilted her face up toward mine and kissed her then, but I didn't. I couldn't tell if she was just trying to see if I would, or if she really wanted me to, and I didn't want to find out.

Instead, I told her about how it had been for me ever since the accident. I told her how I'd spent nearly two weeks in the hospital while the rest of my classmates finished junior year without me; how I'd missed prom and the student government elections and the Junior-Senior Luau; how the first surgery hadn't worked and my mom had cried when she found out I had to have another; how my tennis coach had come by the hospital and I'd heard him fighting with my dad out in the hallway, blaming me; how my so-called friends had sent a cheesy card they'd all signed, rather than visiting; how the doctors made such a big production of telling me that I'd never play sports again that I thought they were going to say I'd be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life; how the worst part was having to go back to school with kids I'd known since kindergarten, and the only thing that had changed was me, because I didn't know who I was anymore, or who I wanted to be.

When I finished, Cassidy didn't say anything for a long time. And then she closed the short distance between us and brushed her lips against my cheek.

They were cold from her diet soda, and it was over in an instant. But she didn't move away. Instead, she sat down with her jeans touching mine and leaned her head on my shoulder. I could feel the flutter of her eyelashes against my neck with every blink, and we sat there for a while, breathing quietly together, listening to the thrum of traffic on University Drive and the gurgle of the creek.

“There's this poem,” Cassidy finally said, “by Mary Oliver. And I used to write a line from it in all of my school notebooks to remind myself that I didn't have to be embarrassed of the past and afraid of the future. And it helped. So I'm giving it to you. The line is, ‘Tell me, what is it you plan to do/With your one wild and precious life?'”

We stared out at the creek, watching the couple across from us gather their things and head back to the path.

“Well,” I said. “What are my options?”

“Let me consult the oracle,” Cassidy mused, leaning forward to pull up a blade of grass. She examined it in her palm as though she was reading my fortune. “You can sound your barbaric yawp over the rooftops . . . or suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune . . . or seize the day . . . or sail away from the safe harbor . . . or seek a newer world . . . or rage against the dying of the light, although that one doesn't start with
s
, so it sort of ruins the poetry of it all, don't you think?”

“And here I thought you were going to say doctor, lawyer, or business executive.” I laughed.

“Honestly, Ezra.” Cassidy stood up, brushing the grass off her jeans. “You'll never escape the panopticon thinking like that.”

13

THAT NIGHT, I
took Cooper out to the end of our cul-de-sac and tossed a ball for him. It wasn't the same as taking him for our run down the hiking trails, but he seemed to enjoy it all the same. He even found a wild rabbit to chase, although I don't think the rabbit particularly appreciated the game, or being hunted as game.

When I brought Cooper back to the house, my mom was at the kitchen table with a mug of tea at her elbow, flipping through the
TV Guide
even though we have On Demand and streaming.

“Where'd you go?” she asked.

“End of the block,” I said, pouring fresh water into Cooper's bowl. “Tossed around a ball.”

“Off the leash?” She looked horrified. “Ezra, it's dark outside! He could've been hit by a car!”

“It's a cul-de-sac, so I highly doubt it.”

“
Tone
, young man.”

“Sorry.” I took a pack of cookies out of the pantry and opened them. “Want one?”

“Not this late,” she said. “Bring those to the table and tell me about school.”

I suddenly regretted my foray into the pantry.

“School's fine,” I said through a mouthful of cookie. “Although these are terrible. I thought they were chocolate chip.”

“Carob chip. It's healthier. How are your classes?”

“Good. I need you to sign a permission form for debate. There's an overnight tournament in San Diego next weekend.”

“An
overnight
field trip?” She shook her head. “Honey, I don't know. Don't you have physical therapy on Saturdays?”

“I can call Dr. Levine and reschedule,” I said impatiently. “And it's not a field trip, it's a tournament. I joined the debate team.”

Cooper whined for a cookie, and I shot him a look that said
Trust me, you don't want to try these.

“Is that what your friends from student government are doing this year?” Mom asked cheerily. “The debate team?”

“Not exactly.” I tried not to grin at the thought of Jimmy Fuller, our sports team liaison, or Tiffany Wells, our social events chair, hanging out with my new lunch crowd. “Toby Ellicott asked me to join. He's captain this year.”

“Oh, Toby! I haven't seen that boy in ages.” Mom closed the
TV Guide
and leaned across the table, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Tell me, did he turn out to be gay?”

I choked on the carob cookie.

“Mom!”

“What? I'm just curious, honey.”

I stared at her, appalled. It was one of those questions you don't go around asking about people.

“Are you going to sign the permission form or should I ask Dad?” I pressed.

“Leave it on the counter for me in the morning. I can take you to Nordstrom after school.”

I'd just gotten up from the table, and when she mentioned shopping, I froze.

“Well, you're going to need a suit for debate, aren't you?” Mom went on, warming to the idea. “And we can get you some new clothes as well. Your jeans are a bit baggy now, and I don't want you tripping over the hems.”

She was smiling as though the men's department of Nordstrom was a perfect opportunity for us to spend some quality time together. And then I came up with an idea.

“Actually,” I said, “I'll go with Toby. He'll know what I'll need for the tournament.”

“That's a great idea.” Mom beamed. “Just use your father's credit card. Gay boys have such wonderful taste in clothes!”

 

“YOU CAN'T JUST
buy a suit
off the rack
.” Cassidy gawked at me, horrified.

That same Vampire Weekend song from the Back to School Pep Rally seeped through invisible speakers, permeating the men's department of Nordstrom. I sighed, overwhelmed by the endless stretch of clothing racks.

“Toby,” Cassidy whined. “Tell him.”

“Seeing how all of
my
suits came from the fine atelier of Messrs.' Salvation and Army, I wouldn't know.” Toby grinned, enjoying my discomfort. “But he definitely needs a pink button-down.”

“Like hell I do. You guys suck.”

“Do we need some help over here?” A smiling saleslady who could have been one of our classmates' mothers asked.

“We do, actually,” Cassidy said brightly. “Do y'all do complimentary tailoring on suit jackets?”

An hour later, I had a trunk full of shopping bags and a tailoring slip for a new suit, which I could pick up in a week.

“It could've been worse,” Cassidy said, patting me on the shoulder as we climbed back into my car. “You could have spent two hours trying on different types of trouser pleating with your mom.”

“You haven't met his mom.” Toby laughed. “It would have been three hours. And a surprise haircut.”

“When did you two join forces?” I grumbled.

“Not soon enough, apparently.” Cassidy grinned. “Now who wants to study for Mr. Anthony's quiz?”

Toby's schedule was a flip of ours; he had English first and then history.

“How about you just give me the answers at break tomorrow?” Toby suggested.

“How about I glue your bow tie around your neck?” Cassidy retorted.

“I'd like to see you try.” Toby laughed and turned on the radio. “Now let's get the hell out of the Prism Center now that we've got what we came for.”

“Are we studying somewhere, or am I dropping you back at the Fail Whale?” I asked.

“We're studying.” Toby sighed.

We drove over to this giant sprawl of superstores near school called the Legacy. It was nice spreading out our stuff in the Barnes and Noble café, drinking coffee and studying with other people like it was some sort of social activity. I'd never done it before.

Well, I mean, I
had,
when Charlotte insisted we do our homework together in Starbucks back when we'd first started dating, but that was mostly her rubbing my pant leg under the table until we had to give up on studying and go back to her house, since her parents were never home. So I suppose I'd never studied
effectively
with other people. Sure, Cassidy teased me, pretending she'd messed with my drink when I came back from the bathroom (she hadn't; she just wanted to make me suspicious), but we actually got work done.

By the time we were reasonably prepared for the quiz, it was getting late.

“So Faulkner,” Toby said. “I might be wrong, but I think you want to buy me dinner because I was so much help picking out a tie.”

“Fine,” I said. It had always been like this, even when we were kids. My five-dollar-per-week elementary school allowance had financed the bulk of his Sour Patch Kids and Pokémon Cards addiction. “Let me tell my mom I won't be home for dinner.”

I took out my phone, stepped into the magazine section, and quickly assured my mom that no, we weren't having fast food, and yes, I'd bought everything I needed.

The conversation wasn't ending anytime soon, so I sat down on the bench and flicked through a copy of
Rolling Stone
someone had left, wishing she'd just learn how to text.

“Yeah, I got, like, loafers or something . . . with rubber bottoms, I remembered that part . . . I don't know, sort of red brown.”

I sighed, wishing she'd lose interest.

“
Mom
,” I said forcefully. “Everyone's waiting, I have to go . . . Yeah, I'll be home before nine. Okay . . . okay, bye.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said when I got back to our table in the café.

“I didn't say anything.” Toby grinned broadly.

“Your silence is judging me.”

“That's probably true,” Toby admitted.

We walked across the parking lot to In-N-Out Burger, which doesn't technically count as fast food, since you have to wait for it.

“Do you know about their secret menu?” Toby asked Cassidy. “Because you can order all sorts of things. Root beer floats, animal-style fries . . .”

“Obviously.” Cassidy rolled her eyes. “I
have
lived in California before.”

“No! Really?” Toby mocked.

“Well, do you know about the palm trees?” I asked.

Both of them stared at me. I grinned.

“There are two palm trees planted in an X outside of all the In-N-Outs,” I said. “It's from some old movie the owner liked, because in the film a treasure was buried there.”

“That's terrible,” Cassidy said. “Pretending a fast-food place is a buried treasure.”

“I don't know,” I said. “I think it's cool. Most people don't know about it, but when you do, you look for the X every time you drive past an In-N-Out.”

“Like IHOP,” Toby said. “My cousins call it ‘dohi,' since that's IHOP upside down. It gets in your head. You'll just see an upside-down dohi sign next time you pass one, trust me.”

Immediately, I thought of the hydrocarbon chains in organic chemistry; the same thing upside down, and how knowing to look for it changes your whole perspective. I almost mentioned it, since Cassidy would know what I was talking about, but I didn't. Not because they'd think I was weird, or nerdy, but because the moment was so perfect that it just didn't need anything else.

 

“DUDE,” TOBY WHISPERED
as we took our order receipt. “Did you know that Justin Wong worked here?”

I shrugged. “Must pay well.”

Justin was in my math class. He was a pretty forgettable guy, except for his car—this ridiculously souped-up Honda, the kind kids at school referred to as a rice rocket.

We were filling our drinks from the soda machine when I first heard it: a familiar peal of laughter. My shoulders stiffened.

“Oh, kill me.” Toby leaned against the soda machine, staring at them.

Sure enough: Charlotte, Evan, and Jimmy were in the good corner booth, the big one by the windows, where we always used to sit when we came here.

“Do you think we should just get it to go?” Toby muttered.

“Go where?” I asked. “There can never be burgers in my car, because then my car will
smell like burgers
, and trust me, that's a risk I'm not willing to take.”

“We could put them in the trunk,” Toby suggested desperately.

“I'm not eating a burger that's been in anyone's trunk,” Cassidy said.

“We could eat them in the parking lot,” Toby said.

“Because that isn't obvious.” I rolled my eyes. “They're sitting right by the window.”

We clustered around the ketchup pump, eyeing the table. They'd just gotten their food and clearly weren't planning to leave anytime soon.

One of the In-N-Out employees, some kid from a different school, dropped off three more burgers and fries at their table.

“Hey, Ezra?” Justin Wong called. “I had Angelo bring your food over to your table.”

I stared at Justin, not comprehending. And then I realized: those burgers were
ours
.

“Awesome,” I said hollowly. “Thanks.”

“Shit stickers,” Toby swore softly.

“Well, come on.” I said it as though we were standing outside of the funeral service and might as well go in.

“Oh good, you mean I get to hang out with your old friends?” Cassidy grinned hugely.

“Be nice,” I warned.

“You'd think I brushed my teeth and sharpened my tongue every morning, the way he goes on,” Cassidy complained.

“More like brushed your teeth and dulled your wit,” said Toby.

 

IT WAS EVAN
who spotted us first. His surfer's baritone carried across the restaurant as he raised his soft drink in the air like some sort of toast and called, “Yo, Faulkner! Get your gimp ass over here!”

“Hey,” I said sheepishly as we shuffled toward the table. “What's going on?”

“Just chillin',” Evan said.

Jimmy nodded enthusiastically. He was eating a 4 x 4 Animal Style, a gooey, thick stack of meat patties oozing sauce. There was another identical burger on his tray, because apparently one wasn't enough. He took a bite, and it reminded me of this video I'd seen on YouTube of a mountain lion devouring a gazelle.

“So, funny story,” I said, “but Justin sent our food over to your table.”

“Who?”
Charlotte asked blankly.

“Justin,” I repeated. “The guy behind the counter? He's in our year at school.”

I couldn't figure why she didn't know who I meant. And then I realized that
Charlotte had always done this—pretended not to know which classmate you were taking about, as though she was above remembering certain people.

“Oh.” Charlotte frowned, disinterested. “Well, whatever. You're here now, so join us.”

“Yeah, dude, plenty of room. Pop a squat,” Evan said.

We hadn't discussed it, but I knew the plan was to get our food and calculate the physics of which table was the farthest from this booth, that table being the optimal place to enjoy our dinner. But I couldn't exactly refuse. Not after the way I'd blown everyone off without explanation ever since school started.

“Sounds good,” I said with a shrug, sliding into the booth.

I could feel Cassidy's hand on my sleeve, as though she wanted me to know that she'd slide in first so I could take the end, but I gritted my teeth and scooted along the pleather seat, not wanting my old friends to see how useless I was.

“Where's Jill?” I asked, unwrapping my food. I dumped half of the fries onto my tray and wordlessly passed Cassidy the little paper container, since we were sharing.

Charlotte watched me split the container of fries as though it meant something significant.

“She's stuck doing some Student Government crap, I don't even know. But it'll give us a chance to know your new friend.” Charlotte's smile dripped venom as she stirred the straw in her milk shake.