The Girl Who Fell (13 page)

“I don't want to see this on eBay,” I tell Gregg as I pass the pen and article back to him. He gives me a wink and I don't know what it means. Are we okay now? He's dating Lani so now I can have Alec guilt-free?

“You should have been there,” Lizzie tells him. “Zee's goal rocked.”

I pop a cube of cantaloupe into my mouth, force my teeth to chew. I want to ask Gregg why he couldn't put all this stuff between us aside and watch me compete in the playoffs. A month ago I could have asked him anything.

“Gregg was with me,” Lani says, squeezing Gregg's biceps in a way that makes the fruit in my mouth hard to swallow. “Cheerleader party. You know, to celebrate the start of hockey season.”

I want to gag, but Gregg lifts his orange juice and pins his stare on me. It seems impossible that he can be three feet away when a universe wedges between us. A canyon crammed with all the things we aren't saying.

“Sounds like it was a blast.” Lizzie's tone tells me she's aware of the tension sharing a place at our table.

The waitress appears and I recognize her as Steph DeLuca, a sophomore girl on the JV field hockey team. She barely registers my presence; her gaze is glued on Gregg's face. I watch her carefully. Her eyes flicker over Gregg's broad shoulders, the number on his sleeve.

“C-can I get you anything else?”

“A refill of OJ?” Gregg raises his empty glass.

“Sure thing, Slice. It'll be on the house.” Steph flirts the cup from his hand and retreats.

“You've got fans everywhere,” Lani says.

Gregg laughs it off. He's used to it, after all. “Hey, we're going go-cart racing after breakfast. You guys wanna join?”

“Go-carts?” Lizzie says.

“What, too childish for you?” Gregg teases.

“Um, no. Go-carts are the ultimate level playing field. I can kick your all-star ass,” Lizzie says.

“Challenge accepted,” Gregg says.

Am I the only one who thinks this is completely surreal?

“It'd be great if you guys came,” Lani directs her words at me.

“We're so there,” Lizzie says.

“Sounds fun.” The lie grates over my tongue.

“Great,” Lani says, though her tone makes me question if I'm totally welcome.

Steph brings Gregg's orange juice, along with the bill. Lizzie and I reach for cash, but Gregg waves us off. He sets a generous tip onto his overturned paper placemat and pulls out his trusty red Sharpie to write: “Steph, stay fierce. —Slice/17.”

Lizzie and I slip into her car. She turns over the engine, cranks the heat. I watch Gregg open the passenger door for Lani, hold out his arm to help her into his giant truck.

“There is a good chance I will slip into a food coma, so be prepared to take the wheel,” Lizzie tells me as she searches the radio stations.

“Maybe we shouldn't go, then.”

She cuts me a look. “Why?”

“If you're not feeling well . . .”

“Don't put this on me, Zee. If it's too weird for you, you're gonna have to name it.” Lizzie backs out of the parking lot. Gregg waits for us before pulling onto the main road.

“You
don't
think this is a little weird?”

“Gregg and Lani? Yeah, it's odd. I mean, she's not exactly known as a brilliant conversationalist, but whatever. He's moved on. So have you.” She merges onto the road, the rear chrome bumper of Gregg's truck reflecting the bright sunlight. “You have moved on, right?”

“There was nothing to move on from.” I stare out the window, wondering what Lani and Gregg are talking about, if they're holding hands.

“The kiss was meaningless.”

“Yes, Lizzie, why are we rehashing this?”

“Not rehashing. Just trying to establish a clear timeline of factual occurrences.” She brakes for a red light, stops directly behind Gregg and Lani. “You're digging on Hockey Boy, right?”

“Totally.”

“I assume he's the one helping you process all the Jimmy and Olivia chaos?”

“Yeah, he's been great.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

In front of us, Lani casts her arm over the lip of Gregg's bucket seat. She slides next to Gregg and takes his chin in her hand. She rotates his head, kisses him on the lips. For a long time. Like, until-after-the-light-turns-green long time and Lizzie has to beep. Lani pulls away from the kiss and turns toward us. But it's not Lizzie she's staring at. It's me.

Lizzie gives a quick, short laugh. “Now that kiss looked like it had some meaning.”

“Gross. Can we please move on?”

“I thought we already had.”

I did too. But I hate the way Gregg never bangs Lani's go-cart when we're on the track, despite him purposefully crashing into me and Lizzie about a hundred times. I see the small ways he protects her, watches out for her. And all I can think about is how he used to watch out for me. Maybe even without my realizing it.

When I get home I almost call Alec a dozen times, but I don't press send. Mostly because I can't wrap my head around my own thoughts and no one needs to see me be this kind of mess.

Mom's left a note on the island the following morning. In her perfectly symmetrical script:

Zephyr, I'm sorry. I've handled this all wrong.

Can we talk after work tonight?

Luf,

Mom

“Luf” was the way I'd spelled “love” on a Mother's Day card when I was six. Mom and Dad have signed their notes to me like that ever since. It is our secret family handshake. But now the word looks like a promise that's been broken. I leave the note and head to school, where Alec, my beautiful escape, is leaning against my locker, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. When I reach him he gives me a quick peck on the cheek.

“I hope that's okay,” he says. “We haven't really discussed the rules on school PDA.”

“It's all good.”

“Great.” He steals another peck. “I thought I'd hear from you yesterday, you know, to tell me how things went with your mom.”

“I should have called, but Lizzie woke me up for breakfast and then it turned into a whole thing with Gregg and Lani and go-carts. I didn't even get a chance to talk to my mom.”

“Gregg, huh? So you guys have patched things up.”

“I guess so. Who knows. But I did discover Gregg's dating Lani Briggs, which makes exactly zero sense. I mean, have you ever talked to that girl? There's not a lot going on in that head. Why would Gregg date her? It's beyond weird.”

Alec laughs.

“What?”

“You're not dating Lani, so what does it matter?”

He's right. It doesn't matter. It's none of my business and affects me exactly zero. So why am I letting it? “You're so right. Excuse the mini rant.”

“Well, I'm bummed I missed go-carting with you. But I did the next best thing.”

“Yeah? What's that?”

“I stayed in and pined away for you.”

“Funny.”

“And bought this.” He hands me an envelope. “I'm glad things didn't blow up with your mom. I—”

“Zephyr!” Someone shouts, followed by a lot of someones. A dozen upperclass girls from the field hockey team run at us, nearly knocking me over.

Karen surveys Alec up then down. “We interrupting something? Were you two sucking face?” I laugh, wishing I could be as bold as Karen, bold enough to say whatever was on my mind.

“Just heading to class,” Alec says.

Karen links her arm in mine. “Well, Zephyr gets a pass from study hall. We're surprising Coach in the gym and we need our captain.”

“But—” he says.

“No buts. And no boys allowed,” Karen adds.

“Come on Zeph!” Melissa Hines shouts.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, let's go, go, go,” Samantha Railey chants.

A cloud of whooping starts, sounding like a human engine.

I look to Alec. “I really should go.”

“Yeah, no. Of course.” He thrusts his hands into his pockets. “See you in French.”

“See you.” I throw him apologetic eyes as my teammates steer me down the hallway.

We barge into Coach's office, where she looks impossibly small behind her desk, not the big presence she is on the field when she's yelling at us.

Coach eyes us suspiciously. “What's all this?”

Karen bursts, “We came to tell you how much we love you.”

Coach's eyes narrow. “Where was that love when I made you run sprints with your goalie gear on?”

“Bygones, ladies,” Melissa says.

“We really do love you, Coach,” Samantha says. “And some of us won't be here next year, so we wanted you to know we couldn't have won State without you.”

“Or Zee.” Karen hugs my shoulder.

I lean into her. “Right back at you.”

Coach stands, adjusts the whistle that perpetually hangs around her neck. “It just goes to show you how hard work and dedication will pay off. Remember that next year. It's been an honor to watch you grow into remarkable women.”

“Thanks Coach,” a few girls whisper.

As she talks, I know my time with the team is over. I mean really over. This moment makes me see that every relationship I have is in flux, which is by far the strangest part of senior year limbo. I won't have Coach watching over me next year, pumping me full of confidence for my work on the field. My stomach unstitches with the pull of a dark, distant thread. That string that's tied to the ache I feel when I think about Dad leaving. I take a deep breath and shove that murkiness down to my feet.

Coach comes to me and gives me a small hug. When she releases, I feel her familiar claw-grip penetrate my shoulder. “You've been a real leader this year, Doyle.” I nod, but it's hard to reconcile this emotionally charged coach with the hard-ass I've known. “I want you and Karen to accept the trophy for the team on Alumni Weekend.”

Alumni Weekend is this huge fall event in Sudbury, when alums come back to town and the football team plays on Saturday and there's a parade the whole town turns out for. It's the Super Bowl mashed with the queen's visit, Sudbury style.

“You should do it,” I tell Coach. “It's your team.”

“Don't fool yourself, Doyle. This team belongs to you and Karen.”

The girls throw up a low hoot, thundering the concrete wall with their palms.

“Okay then. I'd be honored.”

“Me too,” Karen says.

Maybe it's the closure I'll need before saying good-bye to all the parts of Sudbury I never thought I'd miss.

When I return to my locker, I realize I'm still holding the envelope Alec gave me. I tear open the flap and remove the card. It's bright white with a simple, small cupcake in the middle. The cupcake is decorated with a smiling clown, complete with a pointy hat. The caption: “Life is better with a sugar buzz on.” The word “sugar” is crossed out and Alec's written “Zephyr” instead. I bite my lip and beam.

I flip the card open and there is a heart scrawled next to his initial. I study the lines of the heart, how he drew it for me, and I'm unable to tame my smile, even when Lizzie sneaks up from behind. “Heavy,” she says.

“Where did you come from?”

“I saw you walk by the common room. I was covertly researching teen study habits for a new piece I'm writing and thought I'd see what had you skipping study hall.” She nods toward the card. “I give Hockey Boy mad respect. An old school card
and
the proper shout-out to sugar.”

The faint heat of a blush colors my cheeks and I wave the card in front of my face like it's a hot day in July instead of a chilly November morning.

“He seems pretty great.”

“He is. I mean think about it. Alec had to go to a store. Pick out a card. Search for the perfect one. Modify it so it was even
more perfect
. That might be the definition of ‘pretty great.' ”

“I already gave him a shout-out. No need to sell me on him.”

I tuck the card back into its envelope and can't help having an Alec buzz on.

“I guess this means you're definitely not hung up on Slice dating Lani?”

“I told you, I never cared about that.”

“Okay. Just as long as you're sure.”

•  •  •

When I see the back of Alec's head in the hall on the way to fourth period, I race to catch up to him, dodging students in my quest. I grab his arm and he slows enough for me to lean into his side. “Hey there.”

“How was your coach?”

“Good. Sappy.” I shake my head. “Whatever, look—”

He jerks his arm away. “I gotta do a thing before calc, Zephyr. I can't be late.” He turns too fast, doubles his stride down the hall. I watch the back of his head disappear into a sea of students. A body slams into me and a tall kid apologizes. I wave it off, aware only of a small bit in my middle sinking with more force than gravity.

•  •  •

At lunch, I search for Alec but he's nowhere.

“Earth to Zee.” Lizzie's voice reaches me from the valley of some outlying place. “You look like you're on a totally different planet.”

“I need to talk to Alec.” I didn't imagine Alec pulling away from me, did I? “I think he might be mad at me, or annoyed or something.”

“I'm sure everything's fine. He just gave you that card, like, this morning.”

“True.”

But Lizzie's eyes hang on me. I avoid her gaze and hate the questions that fill my head.

When Alec arrives late for French he has a hall pass. He and Mrs. Sarter exchange hushed words as he hands it to her. I find myself leaning forward wanting to know where he was, what teacher wrote the excuse for him. But he doesn't give me any clue. He doesn't even look at me, keeps his legs tucked squarely under his desk. I could physically reach over and touch his knee but his forced posture defends his space. This I'm not imagining. He bolts as soon as the bell rings. I don't even have my books gathered before I see his empty chair. Just like Gregg's.